I live with two sweet little girls who have changed my life completely. Their names are Maci-Jo and Lily (or as we call her, "little lily").
Anyone with kids is familiar with the phases of movie obsessions. For almost six months we couldn't get through the day without listening to/singing/watching/dancing to Let It Go from Frozen. Then Lilo and Stitch hit. For two months we watched one of the four Lilo and Stitch movies on Netflix daily, sometimes more than once. After you see enough of one children's movie there are stages, similar to that of grief, that you go through. First, there is denial--"we don't REALLY watch it that much", or, "they'll get tired of it eventually." Second, anger--you don't ever want to see it again. Third, negotiation--what about Aristocats? what about Despicable Me? What about ANYTHING but Lilo and Stitch? Fourth, acceptance--fine, okay, this movie IS awesome. During our Lilo and Stitch adventure, which still isn't quite over, I have become pretty attached to the word Ohana. I researched the word to see if it had any real background. It turns out, that the producers took a field trip to Hawaii as a way of gathering inspiration for the movie. Chris Sanders, the director, heard his tour guide use the word Ohana to tell stories about the many extended families throughout Hawaii. For any of you who haven't seen Lilo and Stitch, Ohana is used in the film to express family values. They say, "Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind." I can identify a lot with this idea of family. Many times in my life, I should have been left behind. But because people around me considered me family, they stuck around. There's something beautiful about people choosing to love you, and live life with you, when you're a piece of work. For the past five years I have volunteered with an outfit called YoungLife. My passion for high-school kids comes from remembering what it was like for me at their age. I wasn't underprivileged, I had a great family, I had good friends, but my heart was in pieces. High-school was spent full of self-hate, insecurity, lies, painful self-discovery, addiction, broken relationships, and depression. I often cringe at the kind of friend, and person I was at 17. My idea of healthy, my idea of love was so twisted. There was a short list of people who made me their family. I didn't become a new person in the wake of their love. Many of them never got to see the results of their selflessness. But they never chose to embarrass me or force me to see the ugly mess that I was. They loved me in a way that made me feel normal, whole, and like I wasn't a total mistake. To me, that's Ohana. Two main examples would be the ministry of love professed to me by Yvonne Karlsson, and the Welch family. When I think about my time with these people I turn very red from humiliation, and am so abundantly grateful for the love and grace they dealt-out to me. It's painful to relive the most broken versions of ourselves, but it's important to remember where we have been. Yvonne treated me like I was normal. She had me come over to her big-girl house and always let me know it was okay to be silly. She cooked in her kitchen with a giant cleaver and took everything I said seriously. Even when I tested her with dumb stuff, and my deepest secrets, it all mattered to her. I still have every sheet of music paper she ever gave me. She was the example of constant faithfulness and grace. The Welch family. What can I say? I think about my time with them, over many years, and I just don't get it. If anything I caused more mischief than I was worth, but their family loved me more than I really thought anyone could. I felt at home, accepted, and wanted even at my most outrageous. They continue to be an example of the type of family I would love to have of my own someday. From the parents to the kids, they're not perfect, but they certainly are some rock stars who know what it looks like to love and have fun. I'm passionate about not leaving anyone behind, because that's how God's love works. None of us deserve to be a part of the family, but we get a seat at the table anyways.
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In the past six months I have spent a lot of time thinking about how my words reflect what's going on in my heart. It's a simple idea but one I needed to give more time to. I have especially noticed grace lacking between women. I don't know why women struggle with loving each other in a genuine way, but we do. I myself am exhausted by my hearts continuous desire to put other women down because of my own insecurities. I justify this by choosing people I know who aren't popular or people who are difficult to give grace to in the first place. In my own personal observations, I have seen many women do the same. I'll go even more specific and say women in the church. Women affiliated with the church hide behind the rules and their own righteousness to justify gossip, judgment, and overall a lack of Grace. I'm not pointing fingers, because I'm part of the problem. This attitude of justified hatred ruins the women around us, even people we claim to be our friends. My guess is, any woman who reads this can think of another woman who has brought her to a point of hopelessness and self-hate. Most women could probably think of several female figures in their life that have deeply scarred them with gossip, lies, and a lack of love. There are specific women I avoid altogether because I know that when I am with them they will make me feel like I don't matter. Christian women who claim to love the Lord and what flows out of their hearts is nothing but self-absorption and lies. I'm terrified that there are women everywhere who look at their friendships with me as a source of damage or gossip. It's always hard to go first. To be the one to say "hey guys let's not talk about her anymore." Or "I think she's awesome and we need to give her a chance." Maybe, you need to apologize when you tear someone to pieces with your words. If you are like me, when a woman pretends to love you- you know it's not real. Love isn't an act, it can't be mimicked. Genuine, heartfelt grace has to come from your heart. Which is what makes all of this so damn hard. My heart is black and blue with more than I even know how to express. My only hope is that despite the messed up parts God can use my heart to live a better story- One that uplifts the women around me with words of truth, acts of love, and a heart of grace. Below is a picture of two women who have been running towards this image of grace my whole life. I'm so thankful for their example of genuine love. |
AuthorMy name is Lily. Archives
October 2016
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