Church in the Dishwasher

So I learned something cool when I was unloading the dishwasher at work today. I was taking my dirty coffee mug back to the kitchen and the dishwasher had a note clipped to it that said "clean." There were dishes in the sink under the "DON'T LEAVE DISHES IN THE SINK" sign and it was after 5:00 so I figured I might as well unload the dishwasher and clean things up a bit.
Unloading the dishwasher at work is way different than at my mom's house, or anyone else's house I've ever been to. I took out the plates first. There were three heavy white plates with a thick blue trim. There was one thin off-white plate with ugly floral designs on it. There was one that was kind of squarish. There were a few others that I can't remember now, but I just remember being so shocked at the miss match of it all.
The silverware was the same. I smiled to myself when I unloaded the mis-matched spoons with different patterns and handles, because I've always thought it would be cool to have random dishware instead of matching dishware. That way everyone gets something unique at their place at the table. Some forks are smooth, some are bent, some have fancy designs but there is only one of them.
The mugs were the best. The one I drank from today said "Anchorage, Alaska" and had a city-scape, which, considering the beauty of the Alaskan wilderness, struck me as pretty funny. It had good colors though, which was why I picked it. I unloaded some that matched- I think someone probably donated a set as they matched the heavy white plates with blue trim. There was one mug that had a label on the bottom. "MATHESON." I guess Mr. or Miss Matheson did not want to lose their mug in the dishwasher shuffle, although I put it back on the shelf with the rest of the eclectic collection.
I thought about potlucks while I was unloading the dishwasher. I love potlucks. We had one last week at our church, and even though you might be stuck at the end of the line and have to eat the most suspect casserole, no one goes hungry at a potluck. I used to want to have a potluck wedding reception. I thought that would be so great- everyone brings their favorite food and we all share and are happy and full and smile and dance. Then my mother told me it was very tacky to invite people to a potluck wedding. And I can see why. But I still love the idea that if everyone shares, no one goes hungry.
The office dishwasher is like that. Well, the whole kitchen is, but the dishwasher made me think of it. Everyone brings their extra dishes, or maybe they just bring their own dishes, but they share them. Some people don't bring any dishes. I don't. I don't have any to give right now. I haven't cooked a meal since last spring- I don't have dishes or even a lot of food. But somebody brought an extra "Anchorage, Alaska" mug so that I could drink coffee (made by someone else) while I stuffed envelopes. And I just think that's so beautiful. And it's tacky. Real tacky. Nothing matches at all. But it's so great. It works and the people who have old ugly flower plates and overstock of mugs at their houses are happy to share, and the people who need ugly flower plates and don't have houses are happy to have something to use.
So maybe I won't have a potluck wedding, but I sure want to have a potluck life. I am thankful to the people in my life who have brought more right now when I don't have anything to bring but my appetite. And I can't wait until I have an abundance of suspect casserole to share.

With a grain of salt

These thoughts just spilled out of my head and I haven't really done any clean up, so take that as my disclaimer if you choose to look:

I.
Dear Mr. President.
I was wondering this evening, who do you think Terrorists are? Do you think those people love evil? Do you think those people kill just to kill? Do you think those people hate happiness? Has it ever occurred to you that everyone wants something good? Even if they want something bad or want something in a bad way or try to get something in a bad way, it is usually at the core about something good. That is what terrorists want the same as everyday American citizens. Perhaps they want help and are crying out to one of the richest countries in the world to turn its cold shoulder. Perhaps they are making war on our religion. Perhaps they are trying to get treasure in the afterlife or victory against the empire in this life. But they are motivated by something they consider to be good. They are pursuing their own happiness.

II.
Consider:
A “rich, well-educated, well-fed kid” might get picked on at school by bullies. Is it jealousy? Perhaps. Is it anger at this child and his lifestyle? Yes. Is it anger at God for seeming to have blessed one so much and not another? This also could be true.
The mother of this child is upset- her son has been attacked brutally and unfairly. The mother is justified to seek justice. She goes to the principal, she demands a punishment, she wants to speak to the boy and his parents. These are all good reactions to this behavior.

(Has her son learned anything from this incident? In most cases, wouldn’t cruel words and bruises inflicted by a bully make you think? Even if they tell lies about us to our faces, we have to hear them, right? We have to, for at least a moment, think about what is yelled and spit into our ears- have to consider the truth of them. Have we done that as a country? Or can we not tell what they are saying? Did we even pause to think before we went crying for revenge?)

The mother goes a little berserk. She has already seemingly resolved the conflict with the bullies’ parents. They have received their just reward. But now, in a desperate attempt to protect her precious son, she has gone on a hunt for any children at the school who might have negative feelings about her boy. If others might hurt him again, she feels it is her duty to chase and find them, no matter how long it takes. She goes to every classroom, extensively interviewing all of the children to find out if they know her son, what they think about him, if they have ever hurt him before and if they ever plan on it. She is more haggard than she used to be. Her voice has gotten louder and more overbearing. Life seems to be draining from her each day. Her eyes droop but she is still determined. The teachers whisper to each other and watch from afar as she comes. She has already gotten 2 children suspended and is ever on the hunt for more.

Even at home, she prowls. Her precious boy has brothers and sisters- he is the youngest and gets picked on- or has in the past. In the past, the boys’ parents would allow some teasing- it was healthy for a boy to grow up under a little bit of pressure. After the incident though, the mother decided that this too was debilitating to the young boy. She began to censor jokes and interrupt wrestling matches. She punishes these siblings for being on the side of the bullies from school. “But mom,” they say, “Some of those things they said are kinda true about him!” This cannot be allowed. They are grounded for the rest of the week.

Will I be grounded too?

had a bad dream last night...

Did Abraham have strange dreams of having no son?
Did he set out empty picture frames, did he buy a baseball and mitt?
Did he tell his neighbors, his nephew?

What if?
What if it wasn't true at all?
What if he heard wrong?
What if he had sent away his son Ishmael in vain?

Humiliation.
Faith is walking in the face of humiliation.
Letting God pick up the pieces if it all comes smashing down.

Dreams on the first of the year

I don't know my way home
no I don't know my way
You might be my way home
Can I just stay?

-Kevin McCarthy

My friend is coming back from Nepal.

And I am going to AMSTERDAM!!

Tears fall for dreams held deep and long.
This is the part of my life I call happYness!