The Margins

One of the things Doug and I noticed on our drive from Spokane to Los Angeles was the remarkable civility and warmth we experienced in Washington, Oregon and Northern California. Living in a big city, and maybe especially a place like L.A., there is this shell or crust (or spikes, even) that develops between people: I regularly expect behavior here that is abrasive, self-seeking, and outright rude. It feels perfectly normal here to be waiting to enter a parking space with turn signal on, only to have someone come from another direction and take the space for themselves, never making eye contact. And I won’t even start on driving habits in general…

On our drive, I would repeatedly return to the van, open my door and say to Doug: “Where ARE we?!?” in response to some generosity or kindness from a stranger. There was Maggie, the lady who sold us her van, who insisted on hiding two stuffed animals that had belonged to her kids when they were young in the van for Aaron and Mercy to find. There was Bob, the Tillamook Fred Meyer’s manager who stopped his workday to play catch with my son for at least ten minutes while we stood in line to pay for our “desperation toys” that Grandma Peggy bought for our road trip. There was the entire staff of the diner in Shasta, Oregon who smiled and talked with us and made the kids laugh. And my favorite–the well-dressed luxury car driver with the lady with the giant purse who stopped me in a Starbucks outside of Palo Alto to apologize for honking at us while Doug was pulled over in the parking lot letting Mercy and I out by the entrance (I think we were blocking him in or something-we actually never heard him honk). When he saw me inside the store and saw that I was a pregnant lady with a small child, he was beside himself with apologies for having acted so impatiently.

It just reminds me how hospitality is not simply what goes on inside our front doors, but rather something we carry with us. It is how we choose to bless or curse those around us; whether we choose to see or turn our eyes away; whether we decide to share humanity with another person, if only for a moment, or choose instead to be our own universe. Reading about Jesus, I am struck by how simple so much of his ministry was in terms of choosing to be present to whomever crossed his path. Jesus saw people and welcomed them, in ways that surely made people say: “Where ARE we?!?”

I was sitting in the front passenger seat of our van this afternoon waiting with the kids while Doug picked up some groceries inside Ralph’s. We were on our way home from the hospital where I have been since Friday with symptoms of pre-term labor. I was enjoying my time catching up with the kids when I looked up and saw a young girl, maybe ten years old, standing beside the entrance of Ralph’s. I noticed her because she was just standing there, alone, and she was holding a little sign–something scrawled on a piece of cardboard. When she turned a bit I could read the words: “Please Help”.

I couldn’t leave the kids alone in the car and I was on bed-rest orders from the hospital, and I felt a bit paralyzed about what to do. I couldn’t believe that a parent would drop their child off and have her stand, alone at a grocery store, asking for money. People went in and out of the store, and no one stopped to talk to this little one. I called Doug on his cell phone and told him when he came back out I needed to go and talk with her. I also decided to call L.A.P.D. dispatch to have an officer come out and check on her situation.

When I finally had the chance to talk with her, I asked her what she needed help with. She told me that her family needed money for gas for their car, and she pointed toward the other side of the parking lot where they must have been waiting. By then the Ralph’s security guard had already come out to talk with her as had a few other customers. L.A.P.D. arrived by the time we were leaving, and I wondered at what would happen to this girl and to the adults in her life that seemed so casual (and calculating) in their use of her. I felt that deep frustration as well that comes with situations where I don’t know how to get involved, or where I only scratch the surface by giving someone a bit of cash or calling for some other authority to intervene (which was all I did in this case).

Mercy and I talk a lot about the story of the Good Samaritan. How costly the call to love is, and how regularly I choose, for reasons good and bad, to pass by at a distance.

“Jesus, however, shifts us completely beyond this level of morality and says to us: If in all seriousness you consider how often you have offended God and how he has forgiven you again and again; if you take seriously the literal fact that every morning and every night you can say, ‘Forgive us our debts,’ and that he actually does forgive them; then there is no longer, in any case not primarily, a question f ’self-control’ whether you go on repeatedly forgiving your neighbor. Therefore, please, when your neighbor does something bad, do not say, ‘Now as a Christian I must grin and bear it; now I mustn’t react like a natural man; now I must snap to attention spiritually and maintain an attitude of forbearance.’ When you do this as a Christian you are right back on the moral level again…No, the glorious thing is that with Jesus we become free, at ease, and cleansed of complexes. In these cases we do not alert the will but quietly utter this simple prayer: ‘Lord, how often hast thou forgiven me; how often hast thou not taken me back again…’ It is not a matter of exerting great will power; it is rather a matter of turning our eyes very slightly and looking at the Cross.”

From Christ and the Meaning of Life, by Helmut Thielicke

We arrived safely home last night after three days on the road. The kids traveled surprisingly well, and we felt a deep sense of God’s protection and provision at every turn. Favorite car moments (and good reminders why we don’t want vehicles with DVD players in them) were: Aaron reading “Go, Dog, Go!”; Mercy and Aaron singing “Pharaoh, Pharaoh” together (thank you Shoreline Covenant Church VBS); Aaron singing a song about Ariel from the Little Mermaid (basically repeating her name over and over again–and we though Belle was his true love); Mercy making a pretend phone with her hand and ‘calling’ me in the front seat from her seat in the third row to tell me things; Aaron showing Barret the Bunny (his favorite stuffed animal) all of the important sights like Snorts, airplanes and mountains out his window; playing rhyming games as a family; learning that Aaron can rhyme; those occasional moments of total silence when both children would sleep, heads cocked at matching angles in their carseats.

We enjoyed one night on the road in Medford, Oregon with the family of one of our church members, a former Servant Partner’s intern, who just happened to be in Meford visiting his family. His family was so gracious and hospitable, and the swimming pool, trampoline, and poodle were a hit with the kiddos! The house seemed like it was eight stories high and I lost Aaron a few times (he was in hide and seek heaven there), but Mercy got a great swimming lesson from Richard and Aaron set a record for how many times a kid can go down the pool slide in an hour.

The next night we spent in our friends’ apartment at Stanford where they both begin medical school in the fall. They happened to be out of town but arranged for us to get a spare key so we could crash at their place. Neither of us had ever been to Stanford before and it was fun to see–we couldn’t believe how huge it was! We arrived needing to eat dinner, and with no campus map or sense for where we were, we ended up in this little campus pub at an outdoor table. Doug got a post-long day in the car Guinness, the kids ate noodles, and it was one of those surreal happy moments.

The van did great on the road and, though she looks a bit out of place in the hood here (with her Thule carrier on top and bike rack in the back), we are so grateful for the series of events that allowed for us to make the purchase. After calculating airfare for a family of five, we have realized that any trips home from this point on will likely require driving.

We were surprised to learn that while we were gone, a large chunk of our ceiling came crashing down onto the floor, so today our home is undergoing the final stages of repair for that. We thank God that this happened while no one was here, especially the kids–those chunks of lath and plaster weigh a ton! As a good friend reminded me via email today, we love and serve a God who sees and protects.

Thanks to all who have prayed for our journey. Regular posts resume tomorrow!

There’s nothing like a week at a lake cabin for the refreshment of one’s soul.

Aaron has added a number of new words to his ever-increasing vocabulary since being here: beach, rocks, “in it”, boat, Auntie, shark (aka Uncle Richard), Buddha (his cousin, Jordan), slippery, mud, and sand. He has loved the neighbor’s remote controlled airplane (as has his father), the duck family that visits daily, all the dogs from nearby cabins, and of course the three Snorts that were working on a cabin three lots down from us.

Mercy would live in the water if we let her. She is the first one in in the morning and usually the last one out, even on the day that was cold and quite windy. Her favorite activity by far, however, is canoe rides. Once she sees the boat she’s like a dog who has seen her leash: she shadows the person with the lifejackets and oars, and as soon as the boat is placed into the water she is guaranteed to be found climbing into it.

The kids have been introduced to S’mores and hot cocoa (neither have been big hits), and they have stayed up until previously unimaginable hours beyond their bedtimes (something the Haub parents tend to not be flexible about during the rest of the year). In other words, life has been very good.

Other highlights have included great food, lots of family, watching a snort go up a set of stairs to leave the beach, no cell service and mostly no internet, spotting a giant Tiger Muskie, playing with Laylah (my brother’s Boxer) in the water, celebrating my parent’s wedding anniversary, and seeing my kids enjoy what was such a significant part of my childhood.

There has also been a surprise addition to the family while here, one that did not involve labor or hospitals. We are now the proud owners of a lovely minivan that came to us via Portland (thank you Craigslist!). She’s cute, red, and perfect for our growing family! We have been praying every night for a van, and while this purchase did involve taking out a loan which we were hoping to somehow avoid, the price for the mileage and model is one we feel good about. So now, instead of a three hour return flight we are looking at three days on the road (any advice for those of you who have traveled with small children?)!

This is my first summer out here since my Grandma passed away this past winter (this cabin has been in her family for multiple generations now). This place is soaked in memories of her and my Grandpa, and being here has been a daily reminder of how much I loved them and how much I was loved by them over the years. I can almost sense their joy as the next generation is introduced to life at the lake, creating silly games and new memories in the same bedrooms and with the same sand toys that their mommies used so many years ago. It makes me really miss them. It makes me feel so grateful for all the things this lake cabin represents.

For once, the lack of posting is not due to any medical emergency or crisis! We are taking a bit of vacation and relishing every minute together as a family right now. I will certainly write soon, but for now, there is a nice backyard and a breeze calling my name…

We were at LAX over the weekend, and at one point Doug took Aaron for a little walk before it was time to board. When they got to the big glass windows, Doug asked Aaron how many airplanes he saw. Doug said that he looked carefully out the window and began to count the planes: “Uno…..dos…..tacos!”

While I am not advocating every Christian abandon their rural and suburban neighbourhoods, I believe for communities to be missional they must consider intentionally rooting their lives in specific communities as an essential expression of their missional commitment. One cannot be missional without prayerfully considering their location, not letting it be incidental to the incarnational faith…

The great narrative of God through history as seen throughout the entire Bible seems significantly rooted in location. We cannot assume that we are called to a location simply because that happens to be where we are…

From Jamie Arpin-Ricci 

We spent most of yesterday swimming and eating with good friends whose parents graciously included us in their family’s celebration of the Fourth. They live in a gorgeous house with a perfect pool, and let’s just say the Haub children, not to mention their prego mom who has just about had it with the L.A. heat wave, were in heaven. We have two of the most fearless water babies I have ever met which is pure joy for us (as well as terror sometimes)!

Doug was a lifeguard and swim instructor in his younger days, and he does a great job teaching and training the kids how to enjoy the water. He has a little ritual with them where they get out of the pool, have to walk to a specific spot along the edge (the perfect distance from stairs, etc.) and then say to him: “Coming!” They then have to stand there and wait until he looks at them and answers: “Okay!” And then they jump. Repeat this about eight thousand times, and you have a pretty good picture of our day yestesrday.

This was Aaron’s first time in a pool now that he is walking and able to do the whole jump into the water thing. We actually had no idea how he would feel about it, but after watching Mercy go in a few times, he decided to try it. The first time in was a bit of a shock, but as soon as he spit enough water out of his mouth to speak again, his message was clear: “AAAAAAAAA-DEN!” I tried to do Doug’s little training thing with him, and was occasionally successful, but as his excitement for the experience grew, he started to just run in without stopping or saying a word. At that point, Lifeguard Doug intervened and brought some order to the world.

We made it back home before dark, and got our sleepy children into their beds before the really big explosions started in our neighborhood. Once darkness fell, our street and the streets around us became the war zone of fire and noise that we have come to expect here on the Fourth. I had to go in and comfort Aaron three times due to all the noise, but thankfully Mercy was so exhausted from her nap-less day of sun and water that she slept peacefully through it all. It amuses me to think that it is illegal to set off fireworks here in the city. Who do they think they are kidding with that law?

Yesterday I was reading a woman’s account of her experience in a primarily Anglo Christian ministry in college. She is Mexican-American, and I appreciated her tender honesty concerning how she was made to feel by what I imagine were the very sincere attempts made by one group of people at loving and embracing another. Reading her account caused me to go deeper in considering my own failures in this area that I am certain occur regularly, and I wondered: do I have a friend like this who will speak to me honestly about how I make them feel? Does our church?

It made me think about the ways that we want to be judged by our intentions and not by the actual effects of what we do. I have learned that lesson in marriage, and it is one I at first resisted: even if my intentions were never to hurt Doug, but for whatever reason my actions DID cause him pain, it is my role to apologize for that and to own the hurt that I caused. In some way I am reminded of the many times I have heard Jesus’ commands spiritualized to mean only “what is in my heart”, my “intentions” so to speak, with little to no relationship to any actual expression or outworking of deeds. So as long as “in my heart” I feel all the right things (believe all the right things, etc.), it really doesn’t matter what I actually do, be it with my money, my time, or my possessions.

Reading this woman describe how her Christian group would do certain things in the name of “racial reconciliation” reminded me of some of the ways Doug has struggled with people’s expectations for how he leads worship here at Church of the Redeemer. Doug quite simply refuses to “be Black” for a Sunday or a month or whatever; he instead works with his team (including the three African-Americans who participate with him) on learning new music and bringing to our congregation songs that are meaningful from our different traditions. Doug refuses to “put on” an experience that is not authentic. Does he lead us in singing gospel music? All the time. Does he write gospel music for us to sing? He has written two beautiful pieces this past year. Does he lead songs in Spanish? Absolutely. But he chafes under having a “quota” of how many Spanish songs (or any “type” of song) to include each week.

My friend ended her reflection with a poem she wrote which I quote in part:

“Racial Reconciliation” - a poem
Strategy –
It is all about their strategy…

How do we get them to come to our worship,
- our bible study,
–our god?
We need to sing different songs
We need to have food at events
We need to have more training
We need to have a black only,
- latino only,
- etc. only bible study
We need to reach them on their turf

You just need to be a friend - I say.
You don’t need none of that stuff
You’re being fake
–– people always know a fake
——Why don’t you try to just be real
And…Why is it that you have “white only” friends?

But they just kept on with their trying
Cause no one really wants different friends
—That’s just too much to ask –

Her words haunt me, in a good way: Do we (the majority or those in power) really want different friends? Do we really want different leaders? …power structures? …perspectives? Are we really willing to let go of being the “we” and become the “they”?