Big Buddy, Little Buddy and the Lover

I don't know how to begin. We have a dear friend. To Agent B he's Obi-wan. To me he will always be Big Buddy. When we first started getting close to him, we couldn't fathom calling him by his first name (he's in his 80s and that seemed disrespectful). But to say Mr... seemed too formal. After we had our first child (AO1), Big Buddy couldn't remember his name. One day he called AO1 little Buddy and so we came up with Big Buddy and little Buddy.

The Lover shows up a lot at Big Buddy's. I have often had an increased awareness of the timeless perfect Lover permeating our very presence- when eating together, performing some menial task or most often watching the Buddies together. I'm quite sure that the Lover finds it irresistible to simply watch their interaction and is compelled to come and join in on the duo's affection.

AO1 seems oblivious to the fact that Big Buddy can hardly walk or has little strength. He goes up to him expecting to be lifted into his lap. Somehow Big Buddy draws from a well of strength that is not his own and can always pick up our son. He can hardly manage a cup of water at times, but 30 lbs of energetic toddlerhood is suddenly cuddling him, hugging him, touching his face, hair and hands.

The most recent manifestation, when heaven came down into our midst, was when AO1 ended up massaging lotion into Big Buddy's horribly crippled arthritic hands. Big Buddy said he wished the nurse was so gentle, that the therapist was so loving, that others were so tender as our son.

Inwardly we are writhing as we face change. Big Buddy seems to get weaker by the day. It's becoming a real zoo at his home. Strangers in the health "care" industry have started coming more frequently, walking through our friend's home as if they own the place, talking about their "client", glad to have more hours to work. This is our friend, our adopted grandfather, our neighbor and so much more. It is hard to adjust to change to talk about moving him or about others coming in. Something has to happen and change is never easy. But one thing remains and little Buddy said it perfectly. He walked up to Big Buddy tonight and said: I love you. And no matter what happens, we always will.

Living in reality

I had a dream a few nights ago...

I was on a cliff overlooking the ocean talking to two famous male lead actors. One was Tom Hanks. The other was younger, better looking, someone I admired in the movies. A helicopter flew by as we were on some kind of set. He was talking to me about the final scene in a romantic comedy with someone like Sandra Bullock or Julia Roberts. He was telling me how brilliant it was, how all the pieces came together and it was so poignant. He was so into it that it was like he thought it was reality. Like it was really actually important to life and living.

At this realization, my admiration for him went in a nose dive and I walked away from him even as he continued his soliloquy. I was now at the base of the cliff and felt that I had to walk over 100 peoples feet to get to B (my husband). I thought it would be awful to walk over people, but I went forward anyways. To my relief, through the halls, I only passed by two people, a young girl and a woman and there was plenty of room to just walk by. I didn't actually have to step on them. I was in a locker room, passing the showers where I saw a digital timer. I thought it was counting down the time I had to find B, but as I looked it was counting up, adding time.

I went past there and was headed to the lake, where B was in a boat...

when I woke up to my daughter's real cries.

I had a definite sense from this dream that so often we live in a fake arena, thinking it is reality when the true life is just beneath us. It isn't a race, but a journey of a lifetime, where each minute and day counts. We are fed lies and spurred to invest in illusions, but reality is SO much better.

I have seen a woman throw away her marriage after having warped her mind in the fakeness of romance novels. I have seen people hooked on tv shows while their children or family cry out for attention. I have seen individuals wrapped up in movies and oblivious to the greatness of relationship opportunities in front of their eyes.

Lord, save me from the luring chasm of fiction that I may engage in the realities around me and love deeply, really, truly.

Do you see any other messages in my dream?

spiralling

Miller asked me a few weeks ago where I saw myself in ministry or something to that effect. I basically answered I don't know. I went to school to study missions and discovered that living missionally doesn't require a degree, in fact a degree often hampers relationship and realness. There was good that came out of it however. While in school I started helping at Izzy (a ministry to the working class poor and homeless). Agent B joined me and we thought we had found our nitch forever. Through several years and numerous situations, the CEO whittled us back to where we are today- living in the mother city, waiting and trying to live in love with our neighbors.

While in school, I became passionate about spiritual nurture and seeing people raised up into their giftings to help others. I was also obviously interested in the inner city culture. What I found was that no one or few crossed those two boundaries. I found no books on the poor being missional, nor did I find ministries here who had any concept of this. So I wrote a paper on raising up the poor into ministry. Looking back I find it shortsighted and arrogant. I carried my shortsighted, arrogant ignorance with me to the streets and while my coworkers at Izzy do not see it as I do, I felt in my heart that I had allowed my flesh to dictate the way I ministered (especially near the "end"). I feel that I hurt some of the ones I was trying to befriend and while I tried to seek forgiveness, bridges were already burnt.

Meanwhile the CEO put us in a time of waiting giving me plenty of time to question my purpose, my ministry, my life. Part of me has wondered if I am just to stay on the sidelines and raise our kids. I have learned to listen more and learn from the poor instead of going in as the one with the answers (ironically this is the first and most important thing taught in missions, which I knew in my head, but not in my heart).

What I have noticed is that the Lover has gently led us on the path we are on, both of us. It has been so wonderful to be able to tag team and go out to be with people swapping the kids between the two of us. It has also been awesome to take the children with us to be with others, as they learn and teach us to love. I cringe when people ask me my profession. I wouldn't say I've come full circle and see myself as a minister, although that is what I often reply. I'm just trying to love the Lover and love others.

love yourself

Agent B and Lil Sis have brought up important points concerning the last post and it's brought me to further reflexion, especially in light of a magazine's recommendations that I just read. First of all, I agree with Lil Sis that one has to take care of self to ensure one's health in order to be able to take care of others. There are some who hate themselves or lead very unhealthy lifestyles. The Lover says to love others as we love ourselves (Mk12:31). Loving self is a natural thing, hating self is a twisted trap of the fowler to ruin many lives. Likewise an unhealthy parent can be detrimental to others in the present and future. Sometimes loving others entails taking care of one's health. That being said, I only find it all too natural to not only take care of myself, but to put myself first above others: biggest portion of things I like, wanting my time when others need me, being selfish in so many ways.

It seems to me that our society perpetuates this self indulgence, whereas the lover calls us to sacrifice self for others (see John 15:13, Rom.12:1-2). The magazine I mentioned boldly states: "it's important to indulge in activities that are just for you [...] you can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself first [...] 8 ways to treat yourself: get a hot stone massage, buy yourself flowers, keep a container of your favorite ice cream in the freezer, order in, take a candlelit bubble bath, treat yourself and a friend to a concert, have your palms read, buy yourself jewellery".

I find it disgusting and a lie. If we are always taking care of ourself first, we will never find time for others. Their 8 ways of treating self smack of materialism and self gratification. Only one suggestion even included someone else and I think that was as much as a self comfort (to ward off loneliness) as it was to be kind to another. To top it off, these ideas were framed in the light of valentines, what ever happened to loving others?

What do you think? Are there scriptures telling us to take care of ourselves? How would the lover frame these ideas?

More than meets the eye

I have fasted before, because I chose to, not because I had to do without. I am sometimes amazed by the amount of privilege I enjoy. So much of it has nothing to do with me. I had a "head start" or a boost over much of humanity due to the place I was born, the family I had, the education and wealth I've enjoyed. Even as we live by faith financially, we are heaped with gifts and privilege by family, friends and even the poor. I'm not sure why we are so richly blessed, but I am thankful. At the same time, I am humbled by the fact that I have never had to do without.

My friend May called a couple of days ago. She is a single mom, living with her daughter and daughter's two children (a toddler and infant). She has been an example to me of sacrificial love. Most people would look at her life and say that she hasn't gotten far. They often move as housing gets difficult or they get behind in bills, she usually has a new job every few months or year, vehicles are also revolving doors. But she has been consistent in connecting with us, calling, stopping by to catch up. She used to come for services at Izzy. She also got babysitters so that she could help us out with the overnight gig, often giving us the heads up on who was high or might be an "issue", getting up early to help make breakfast and loving others as herself.

She told me recently that she has been diagnosed with neuropathy in her legs (pains due to her diabetes). She says it makes it difficult for her to get to work all the time because sometimes she is in such pain. She's in her 40s. She told me the reason her legs are so bad is because she can't control her blood sugar well, because she can't always afford her insulin. She explained it to me this way: "If it were just me, I could do without electricity or heat from time to time in order to buy my insulin, but I have my daughter and her kids, so I have to keep up with rent and bills for their sake". Meanwhile she does without.

So often, I find myself taking care of myself first. I have a lot to learn from May.

Lover of our souls, look down on May and give her healing and joy and help through her times of need.

The Princess saga

The first time Princess was locked up in juvenile, she was excited about her room. This was the first time in her life that she had her own room and there was a sink in it. Princess has always slept in the living room. Her first home had 5 of them in it (mom, mom's longterm boyfriend and her twin sisters with her). Soon after a nephew was added to the mix and often the family opened their home to other relatives, an aunt, or homeless people they would run into. Her next home had more space, but she was so used to sleeping in the living room, she had a hard time taking a room for herself, besides her sister was going to come out of the juvenile system at some point and she wanted the room for her and her sister's son.

In a lot of ways, I think Princess wants to follow in her older sister's footsteps. Shonique is beautiful, articulate, socially embraced and the poster child of the juvenile system (not literally, but in every other sense). She too was incarcerated here in Abilene, then sent to long term in Abilene, then sent to TYC. They even gave testimony saying that Princess had told the authorities here, "I don't care *#@!, send me to TYC". Her main problem is that she won't admit to the wrongs she does. She blames it on everyone and everything else. She learned this from her mom, who continues to blame Princess' behavior on her ADD medicine. It's all that medicine's fault! They also want to have more evaluations done on Princess to find out what psychological problems she has (as if she doesn't have enough labels emblazoned on her file).

During our last visit, Princess said she hoped that she would be sent to the same facility her sister was at, have the same probation officer and maybe even stay in the same room. During the trial, Princess took the stand and asked that the courts allow her to leave with her sister for a week to see how she would do there. Her lawyer called her sister to the stand, who testified with tears that she couldn't take care of her sister (she is 17, has a job and 2 kids), that Princess won't listen to her and needs to go to TYC. This practically made the lawyers and judge do cartwheels. They all verbally praised Shonique and gave her plenty of affirmation, saying how wonderful she was and honest and mature. The last words said in court were to Princess, that she would go to TYC and if she worked hard, she could turn out to be just like her (wonderful) sister.

I haven't figured out all my emotions in this, but something in all that was horribly wrong. I wish for once Princess got the kind of positive attention her sister gets. I wish people would see her for who she is in her beauty and intelligence and not just in the shadow of her sister or in light of all her problems and record and misbehaviors. I pray the Lord will bring about deliverance, healing and freedom to this trapped soul, so that she can become all that she is meant to be. Those the Son sets free will be free indeed!

Narrow road

The CEO has been so gracious with my dullness, so patient, but relentless in exposing my wrongs. I remember many years ago, coming under the sudden realization that I was not who I thought I was. When reading the Lover's Manual (aka the Bible) I had always pictured myself on the side of the disciples, or if they were in the wrong, on the side of Jesus. Then I came to the shocking conclusion as I was studying in a class that I had more in common with the pharisees or teachers of the law than I did with the followers of Christ. I grew up in religion, studied it, lived "right" (ie. went to the club everytime the door opened and didn't drink, smoke, party, dance, cuss or socialize with those who drank, smoked, cussed, partied, danced...) I always thought the narrow road was a path with the ditches being all the things we weren't supposed to do, but then I realized that a more accurate way of seeing it is with one ditch being living in the flesh sin (not neccessarily the list I made which was totally biased by my religious upbringing) and the other ditch is not more of the same, but living in the flesh of religion (pride, know-it-all, self-righteousness, looking down on others...) It seems that the minute I overcome a fault like lying for example, I can fall down the other ditch due to my pride of not being a liar anymore.

So what does living on the road look like? I think it is not at all what I used to think. The Lover said they will know we are Christians by our love. It strikes me that it doesn't say they will know we are Christians by our: language, dress, social associations, attendance to a club, by our quoting or carrying around the scriptures, by our bumper stickers or t-shirts or religiosity or efforts to evangelize, but by our love.

My friend said that she is just trying to love God and love others, that she has enough trouble getting those right, and so there is no use spending time worrying about all the rest while those two remain.

I think the road is more humble than I'd ever imagined, more sacrificial, more simple, more compassionate and more filled with life, joy and fulfillment than I have ever known.

Confession 001

I'd thought of putting up a picture of a confessional booth, but they looked so holy and austere. This is my crap we're talking about, there's nothing holy about it- except that maybe I'll get some lifted off if I share it here.

I ran into some of our former club member attenders. I hate what I become around others of my club past. There is so much religion in me and it seems to just blurt out without my intending it to. So I find myself saying things I don't mean like "we'll keep in touch" or "we should really get together". It's so weird for me to see people that we only knew from within the corporate meetings. There is a false sense of friendship and comraderie, I say false because we've never REALLY talked, never shared our lives (apart from stepping into a building together). I'm not saying the shared experience of worship or study or whatever was bad, but I know that Jesus wants more for us, He calls us to relationship, not this one-upmanship I find in me.

When I'm around club people, I watch in horror as a part of me tries to justify our lives by sharing all the things the CEO is doing in us- not to brag on Him so much as to validate our living as we do (without the traditional club framework). I feel like I'm the king who foolishly showed off all the treasures in his palace, boasting in his riches only to be plundered of them thereafter.

I didn't realize what a great performer I was until recently. I excelled in the club arena. It was easy to look good. What is much harder is being real, being honest, having compassion for others, putting others first, serving, admitting faults, admitting that my neighbor, the one I had tried to "witness to" loves naturally, gives generously, shows ME love while I tried to balance all the heavy planks blinding me from realness.

For so many years I looked at people who were not attending club meetings as heathens. In fact if they were not at OUR meeting, they weren't experiencing the "richness" we had. Now those eyes are turned on me if not in reality, at least in my mind and I'm trying to tell myself that those eyes are not the ones that count.

Heavy

In order to draw in and keep readers, I should write a scintillating first report full of hope and triumph, but this blog isn't about drawing in or even keeping readers, it's about sharing our story. Tonight my story is disturbing and my heart is heavy. I'm trying not to take my frustration out on my husband and kids, my tongue is sore from biting it.

I went to see my "little sister" tonight. We were matched 8 years ago this coming month, here in the Fair Mother City. Originally I had wanted a teenager so I could be there during the tough teen years. I was thinking I'd only be here a short while. Joke's on me because only 7 year olds were available and we've stayed here all this time and now "Princess" is 15. I picked a very troubled child out of the "lineup" and have been through the wringer with her ever since (and her with me). We've both learned a lot, I guess. OK, I've learned a lot and I can only wish that she has seen something in us, Someone in us who will take her to the place someday of joining allegiances with the winning team.

So far, the fowler is having his way with her life. He's had it out for her since long before her birth. I'm not sure how many of the gory details I should go into here, but I've lamented long and hard with the CEO how any one person could have so many strikes against her. I could make a list of grievances a mile long, so many reasons why she should not "make it" in this world by any and all definitions, or "make it" in the next world either.

I visited her in juvy tonight, where she will sit another few days before her next court hearing at which they will determine that she no longer has any hopes of "rehabilitation" here in Abilene. She's "used up" every resource available here and spit them out, heart just as hard as always, denying any wrongdoing on her part... as always. It's hard for me to keep dreaming and hoping and aspiring for the best for her when her teachers, probation officer, even our match organization says she isn't worth my time.

I don't believe these 8 years have been a waste. I won't believe it. I don't believe Princess' path is predetermined for a lifetime of crime and incarceration. I won't believe it. The Lord gave me a dream once about Princess and to that I hold, and struggle for and grasp for... that she will be set free.

May her time locked away just keep her from evil on the streets in these formative years and lead her to the One who can take all those labels and generational sins and her mangled past, turn it upside down and draw out of her her inheritance of royalty from heaven, as one who is fashioned by the One who Is, who was and who will be.

She's looking at a minimum of a year after an adjustement period in Marlin, Texas of 10 months- as far as she knows. Please pray, beseech and plead for Princess. She needs a Damascus road demonstration like none I've ever known before.

Coerced

I was trying to lay low for several reasons, but I finally conceded to the gentle proddings of creating an agent wife blog. The reasons I hadn't wanted to play along were many, the biggest of which is that I don't want to glorify what I do and so gain credit, even if it's through stranger's comments (and some not so strange). But I have needed a vehicle by which I could sort through my thoughts, my calling, our journey along this surprising road we travel and also give glory to the CEO for all the miraculous and not as miraculous, but thrilling, stirring and loving, if not difficult ways, He has provided for and challenged us.

I do have a real blog, my gift of sharing our lives with family and friends from afar (yes, the rumors are true, I am an alien from strange lands). But as our lives tend to be controversial, upsetting, unsettling and a possible source of contention, I have refrained from being overtly open as to our spiritual journeying there. All of that to say, I'm not sure how often I will post here.

Agent b is very frank in his reports and likewise I want to be completely honest and transparent (as transparent as a secret identity can be). Transparency is not easy for me. I am a performer par excellence and am trying to let the CEO break me of that. However, another reason I have to add my two bits here is that Agent b has unwittingly falsified reports on occasion, nothing more drastic than the usual failings of shoddy male hearing, as in... I recount a story, or live through an event with a totally different rendering of the memory than he has. Or perhaps this was his subtle ploy to force me into this exposition-- you never know- the agent can be tricky.

I hope these accounts bring you encouragement and challenge you as I'm sure they will me. Welcome to my journey.