Do You Mind?

We've been trained and been drilled,
learned our lesson so well:
the tenets upon which our culture stands—
keep your hands off.
Every person's an island,
so mind your own business.

But if our own business is all we mind,
everyone else is left behind.
How can we be so blind
to the lonely and hurting,
averting our eyes
from each sight that implies
we may not be quite as self-sufficient
as we want to believe.
We deceive ourselves,
ignoring those who don't have a voice,
who can't make the choice
to cry for help.

When we're so busy with our own business
we don't even notice
when people disappear right from under our noses.
And they're gone,
and they know they were right all along
because nothing really changes.
Relationship was just an illusion.
A delusion
that someone might actually care
if I'm even there.

But they care.
At least, they think they do—
they're trying to,
but how can someone really know it's true
when all you're given are post-it notes
slipped from prison cell to prison cell
with meaningless platitudes
and out of context Bible verses.

We know there should be so much more
than our poor attempts
at reaching beyond the wall we've built
to hide ourselves from discomfort.
While handshakes are nice and all
they tend to fall
a little short
when you are drowning.

How can we even show that we care more
when we're trained to ignore
those we pass on the street
all the strangers we meet
that we greet
and forget.

Good wishes without substance are not very appealing,
and caring isn't just a feeling.
But no one will ever know its there
if we won't dare
to step out of our little box
into the mess of others' lives.

So would you mind
if we could mind
just a little more than we do,
and find
perhaps
we are the lonely and hurting ones
too.

Marbles

Clacking marbles, that's all we are—
Apathetic, bouncing off each other,
Passing by without a care or even waving.
Isolated, that's what we are—
Tombed in splendid homes with gates and shutters,
All-consumed with our own comfort,
Living in excess with bloody footprints
In our wake from those dehumanized for profit.
Selfishness concealed by friendly smiles and Sunday manners
Making us look good without the inconvenience of caring.

Victims of our fear, our walls become our prisons.
Sanitized to death, we lose our souls.

Could there be hope for more than this?
Our lives could grow together, intertwined
More closely than a twisting vine; our hearts
May choose to love—
Unswerving, wildly, recklessly,
Not bound by fear, but leaping headlong into life
In all its broken, dirty, pain-filled glory as
These grapes are crushed together—can't you see?
You were not made to be a clacking marble.

One More Potato

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thought that I would share something else that I am thankful for.

I am thankful for one more potato.

Let me explain.

I was preparing food for the Sunday potluck that we host every week. I had decided to make what I dubbed a "Thanksgiving shepherd's pie", basically a shepherd's pie with a layer of stuffing on top of the mashed potatoes. (It actually turned out really well! I would recommend trying it.) As I was peeling and chopping potatoes and putting them on to boil, I wondered if I had prepared enough potatoes. After some consideration, I decided I should peel one more, just in case. I reached down into the cupboard and pulled out one more potato.

One more potato. That was all. But that moment was very profound for me.

You see, most of us can reach into the cupboard and pull out another potato. It's so normal, we don't even think about it. But I invite you to consider for a moment with me just how amazing that is:

We have so much food. Even though there have been times when money was short, we've never gone hungry.

I get to choose what food I want to prepare. I have access to almost any kind of food I could want.

Food is a thing. Have you ever thought about that? Things grow that are edible, and we can use them to get the nutrients we need to live.

I have a wonderful, large kitchen that I get to use. It isn't a dark cave or very old and dirty like some of the other kitchens in places we have lived.

We have a large household, with an open door. I've always wanted it to be like that. We aren't just a family of two parents and two kids—we have opened our home to so many, and I am thankful for each of them.

One more potato—such a simple thing—but a reminder that I have so much to be thankful for.

What is something normal in your life that has reminded you to be thankful?

You Are Not Alone

Sometimes I feel very alone.  I imagine that you have felt that way too.  It's a side effect of our fast-paced, individualistic culture that we all face to varying degrees. As a stay-at-home mother of a toddler and an infant, my days are often chaotic and overwhelming. I'm tired. And the list of things that I need to do just gets longer rather than shorter. It's easy for me to feel very alone.

But today was a reminder for me that I am not alone. Both of the kids were being extra fussy and demanding attention and I felt like I just couldn't face the after-supper chaos, but a good friend was willing to come without any notice to help with the kids, and I was able to text Jesse at work and ask him to be praying for me. After Steven was in bed, one of our housemates took care of Kenneth so I could have a shower. An evening that I had been dreading became a manageable and even enjoyable evening, because I am not alone.

You are not alone. I promise. There is someone out there that you can call, or text. Maybe they live nearby and can come and help. Maybe they are free to chat on the phone. Maybe a quick text is all they need to start praying for you. Maybe they are there for you in some other way. However alone you feel, I promise you that there is someone who cares about you. Reach out to them; let them hear your cry for help. You are not alone.

What We're Missing

We're missing something.

We live in a culture of affluence and plenty, where the vast majority of us have all we could need and more.  We have conveniences of every kind, entertainment at our fingertips, and food from around the world.  But something is missing.  Something big.  We can see evidence of it all around us.  Even though we think we have everything we need, we feel empty.  We feel lonely, vulnerable, and afraid.  Depression and anxiety have spread like an epidemic.  Whatever it is that we're missing, it must huge!

I think I know what it is.

We're missing connection.  A place to belong, where we are accepted, loved, and cared for.  We're missing a village.

This lack of "village" in our culture is a relatively new phenomenon.  Most cultures throughout history have been village-based, where people live in small communities of families who live, work, and play together.  And as they gathered together, they could talk about their lives and their struggles.  They could get advice, encouragement, and practical help.

Our culture has lost that.  We live within our four little walls, often not even knowing our neighbours. Each family unit is expected to take care of their own needs and to operate independently of everyone else.  But we weren't made to function like that.  We desperately need connection - with God, nature, and other people.

The village gives each person value and a purpose.  There are many people who fall through the cracks of our society.  For example, the elderly people who often spend the final years of their life tucked out of sight in seniors' homes.  For many, that can be a lonely, isolating experience.  But in the village, the elderly had a role.  They cared for the young, watching the children, sharing from their years of experience, and in return they were cared for by the younger generation. 

Now I know that our lives are not completely devoid of human connection.  In fact, some people do have a thriving community around them.  However, that is not the "normal" or the default of our culture.  Many of us feel very, very lonely.  Even though we have "friends", most of the time they are too preoccupied with their own busy life to be there when we really need them.  Knowing people and interacting with people is not the same thing as having a village.

This lack of community affects all of us, at every stage of life.  For me, right now, it is the most obvious to see how it affects young mothers like myself.  My days overflow with the tasks of childcare and homecare.  I often find myself on the verge of tears as I try to clean up a mess on the floor, follow along with whatever game my toddler is insisting that I play with him, get the laundry hung up so we have clothes to wear the next day, and try to make a healthy, timely supper, all at the same time.  I know that there are people out there who care about me and that even might be willing to help if I asked, but most of the time I am too busy and overwhelmed to even look for help.  I need a village, but the task of finding one or making one just adds to my already overwhelming list of things to do.

In the absence of the village, it is the family that has to pick up the slack.  Now family can be and should be an amazing place of support and belonging, but it can't stand the pressure of being our only place of support.  My husband does everything he can to support me, but when he gets home from a long day of work he is very tired.  Sometimes he is able to play with Steven, help with the dishes, or listen to how my day was, but sometimes he can't.  And often I am too tired to provide the support that I know he needs from me.  Having a larger community in our life would help relieve some of that pressure.  Extended family can help, and indeed family has always been an important part of the village, but in our mobile society we often don't live near our families.  Personally, we don't live near either my family or Jesse's family.  They do what they can to support and help us, but the distance makes it challenging.

God's desire for us is that we have a village.  He has even provided one - we call it the Church.  If you think about it, everything that we long for from a village is a part of what the church is supposed to be: a community of people where you can belong and find help and encouragement.  Sadly, the church is often not like that.  Even in churches that seem healthy and open and friendly, something is often missing.  Just like in the rest of society, people are too caught up in their own busy lives.  They smile and shake your hand at church, but then rush home to their jobs and meetings and family dinners.  Church is just one of the things on their to do list, not a real community with all of its messiness, beauty, and commitment to each other.

When we don't have a village, we are left to create one on our own.  And we try.  It's something that is very important to Jesse and me.  We know all too well that we can't manage on our own.  That's a big part of why we like having people living with us, and why we're always inviting people into our home.  But we've found that all too often people are just too busy.  It gets discouraging to keep asking and keep trying.

And I don't think we're the only ones who feel like this.

So what do we do?  I think the best place to start is to be honest - to admit that we can't manage on our own, that we need the help and support of a community around us.  This really goes against the grain of our culture that smiles and says "I'm fine".  It's hard to ask for help.  And asking people to be a part of your life is a very vulnerable thing to do.  They might reject you, or take help and support from you without offering any in return.  But it is vitally important that we take that risk.  Jesse and I are slowly finding a group of people who genuinely want to be a part of our life.  It is a long, slow process, and many of those people have been called to live in other parts of the world and we don't get to see them much.

That's what we are doing.  But just like we can't live alone, we can't build community alone.  It is a task for all of us.  We don't have to accept individualism and isolation as an unavoidable reality.  We can reach out to others and welcome them into our lives.  And if you are one of those people who are blessed with a strong community around you, please open up your eyes.  There are hurting, lonely people all around you who are longing for a place to belong.  Open your hearts and homes.  Together, let's change the "normal".  There is no greater calling than sharing our life and love in the messy beauty of community.

Home

A little place, humble and small,
But still with enough space for all.
It's nothing really grand, you know,
The people in it make it so.
Friends and family, old and new.
We'd love to have you join us too.
So come on in! Fling wide the door.
There's always room for someone more.

You will be so glad you came.
We're always up for another game,
Or watching films on our big screen,
We'll make some popcorn in between.
Sometimes we just sit and talk
And forget all about the clock.
There's always something fun to do,
Or baby cuddles if you're feeling blue.

Let your worries fade away.
It's dinner time, why don't you stay.
There's plenty to eat, so don't be shy.
Maybe we'll cook up an apple pie.
Tell us about what matters to you,
And what you dream one day to do.
We care about both tears and mirth
And living at peace with the earth.

So come from near and come from far.
There's cookies in the cookie jar!
Put on the kettle for some tea.
We're glad you're here, as you can see.
The door is open to our home,
A peaceful place for those who roam.
Come on in! Fling wide the door.
There's always room for someone more.
 

One Hundred Posts!

Dear Reader,

This blog post that I am writing today is the one hundredth post that I have published on this blog!

So I thought that this would be a perfect day to say Thank You!  Thank you for reading and following my blog, for keeping up with my family and what we've been up to, for listening to my rants and poems and prayers.  Thank you for your encouragement.  You have all blessed me, and I hope that through my writing you have also been blessed and encouraged.

Much Love,
Leane