Washing Dishes

I found out where the Roanoke Mission is yesterday. I've been meaning to get over there for a while now to learn about their volunteer opportunities. But I didn't go in. I pulled up to the curb, my passenger got out, thanked me and in she went.

In an hour and a half we would be under a Wind Chill Warning. The wind right now will take your breath away and it did as I was trying to ask a lady on the street if she was keeping warm (stupid question, I just wanted her to say yes to make me feel less guilty). She wanted directions to a local home that houses homeless people. She handed me her printed directions and I did a crappy job of giving her what little knowledge I have of Roanoke city while Ike was about to break the leash bursting to pee.

Then as I let Ike relieve himself I watched her walk in the wrong direction. Half of me thought, oh you did what you could Meg. It's freaking cold out here and you've got laundry to do. Plus Drew took your car to work today. Never-ending excuses. But something bigger weighed on me.

I ran Ike back upstairs hunted for Drew's keys and headed to the parking garage. I drove around crying frantically, afraid I wouldn't find her. Despite my horrible directions, when I found her she was a block away from where she wanted to go.

I flagged her down and drover her the rest of the way. I went in with her to make sure there was room only to find they don't take "emergency cases." My new friend informed me the Mission wouldn't let people in for another couple of hours.

I offered to take her to lunch, to coffee, to drive her around. But she assured me she'd be fine in the cold until she could return to the Mission. Then I just said it I could hear voices of several sensible family members in my head warning me not to but I said "Why don't you come home with me until time for you to go back to the mission?"

She stepped over the piles of laundry I had separated in the hallway and sat on the couch. She accepted coffee and I heated up leftover pizza. She wanted to know if she could help me with the dishes before I drover her back to the mission. We watched "The Talk" and talked a bit. She ate one piece of candy and said I could drive her back.

I prayed a lot, despite the fact that before me was a harmless old lady who called me ma'am constantly. I had to believe Jesus placed her in my path for a reason. I had nothing to be afraid of.


Unlike others I have met since moving here, she seemed quite capable of independence. She is seeking a mentor. She wants to find an apartment. And our little visit today did little in the way of helping her long term. I need to become more informed about people's options and how they can get help. I need to know where to send people when they express a need because today I was of little help to her. Prayers appreciated as I figure things out here.

Opening My Eyes

On our way camping last weekend we made a pit stop for dinner at Sheetz. We ate at a table outside with Ike under the table begging for french fries. She sat at the next table. Smoking her cigarette and fighting back tears. I wanted to offer to buy her dinner but I was afraid of insulting her (I'm full of excuses like that).

Finally, she spoke. She said Ike was cute and asked what kind of dog he was. That was all I needed, the door opened. We talked about our beautiful state, visiting relatives at the cemetery and our pets.

We were almost finished eating and I didn't want to leave. I asked her if she'd had dinner. She responded no and I took her inside where she asked me if she could get the bigger sandwich. I wished at that moment I could buy her a lifetime supply of the "bigger sandwich." I couldn't leave until I was sure she was squared away for the next several meals.

She cried like a child when we left, she told me not to work too hard when I started teaching and that she had had a nervous breakdown years ago while working multiple jobs. And just like that.....

I insisted on not stopping anywhere to eat except Sheetz, we held out 2 hours to stop for that reason. When we left there I told Drew that I had a feeling that something like that would happen. I'm glad I didn't listen to him when he wanted to stop sooner or listen to the voice of reason that said, drive on and you can eat when you get where you're going.

This, my friends, is how I know God is real. As soon as she sat down across from us I was reminded of my calling. But I was still scared. If she hadn't spoken first would I have done anything except give a friendly smile?

How many times have I ignored that still small voice and not been obedient or aware. All it takes is opening my eyes. When I am conscious in driving around town, eating out, grocery shopping, etc. I see so many opportunities to be Jesus to someone but sometimes I'm distracted. Sometimes I'm tired. And frankly, sometimes I'm selfish.

Jesus help me remember why I'm here.

Life in the Fast Lane

Only not really, it's kind of like life on foot around here lately. I'm down to one more week of my tough summer classes and my formerly rising at 8:00 a.m. to work all day self is back to her old ways. In fact I just got a 96 on a paper I wrote on a book I didn't read. That's classic under-grad Meg peeps. I'm not proud of it but it's summertime and when there's an afternoon thunderstorm like there is today I don't want to be reading about the judicial process in Virginia. I want to either be napping, watching one of the multiple documentaries suggested to me by you fine people or re-runs of The Office on Netflix, or reading something I'm interested in like this little pretty:

Finding the balance of light and heavy content on this blog has been something I've struggled with since starting My Own Yellow Wallpaper. Do I want to pull the serious political crowd whose views of Christianity are evolving like mine? Or do I want to talk about books, birds, and weekend activities. Let's be honest in all reality I'm pulling only one crowd and they are all blood-relatives so they'll read it no matter what I say.

So in keeping with the trend, how about something serious for a while? One of my classes this summer is Multiculturalism and I am riveted by it. We talk about equality for all types of people in our classrooms and how to love. No, we don't call it that in class but that's what we're learning. We're learning how to love children of all races, religions, SES's, abilities, genders, and sexual preferences. Sure we're learning how to teach them as well but the common theme is that we must care about them first and give a crap about where they come from and respect it before they will give a rip about what we have to say.

For some it is easy. I came in knowing which groups I held biases toward and I was ready to face them and move on from them. But I see other people fighting it, I see people who want to hold onto ideals of over-generalizations and stereotypes because they are so deeply ingrained.

I think every person currently in a career and every student should be required to take a multi-cultural class. As teachers, we are not the only ones who come in contact with all different culture types.The content I have learned in this class is more valuable than anything I have learned in school so far and that's not an exaggeration. I just wish I could carry all of you to class with me each week. Your soul would be moved.

My definition of helping has changed.
My belief in the "culture of poverty" has been diminished.
My awareness about white privilege has been raised.
And most importantly I'm once again shown my purpose in this life, to:

Freely you have received, freely give

"I don't even know the last time I had a waffle." It was like a knife straight through my heart. The heart of a woman who fixes waffles for her little family (including her pooch) every Saturday morning.

When I asked one of them what they usually ate for breakfast he said "nothin'." I want to find them wherever they are this morning and fix them more warm waffles because that's all I know to do.

I don't know how to find them a job, to set them back up on their feet again so they can have a place to call their own. I don't have the ability to un-do whatever has happened to put them in this vulnerable situation.

They gave us marriage advice, told big tales, played cards, smoked, drank countless pots of coffee, and complained about the snorers in the group. Now a week later, after only one evening/night spent with them I wake up wondering if they're warm this morning. If someone maybe made them even a warm pop-tart. I wake up wishing for spring, because their lives will be simpler then. At least I hope so.

They impressed their faces upon my heart and I think of them often. But they've probably forgotten me. The lady whose husband hadn't bought her a Valentine's present which they all scolded him for. The lady who none of them could believe would stay all night with them. The lady who fixed them waffles. Maybe they don't remember me but hopefully they remember the waffles. Jesus was in those waffles. And I hope he stays with them, keeping them warm in this bitter cold today.

A Christmas Conundrum

We did Christmas differently this year. Something akin to a John Grisham novel I read years ago. We still put up the tree, had holiday parties and ate enough to carry us into the new year. But we ditched the gifts.

I remember being little and my mom always saying she did not like to receive gifts and as a child I found that very strange. But now I totally get it. It's a lot of pressure to open up a gift in front of the buyer, especially when you have a terrible poker face like me. I was never very dramatic as a child and often came across ungrateful in the gift reaction department.

And even the lack of gift giving wasn't a wholehearted effort. We still bought Chinese Christmas gifts for 3 different parties. But buy and in large we didn't buy gifts. This isn't a completely new thing for us. Drew and I have never done gifts for one another. So we just took it to the next level. No gifts from us and no gifts to us.

The response from our families was varied. From silence, to the rolling of eyes to all out unwillingness to accept the fact that Meg and Drew were scrooges this year. Part of it was money. We didn't really have extra money for tons of gifts this year.

But bigger than that was the realization of how little the two of us need. Christmas is my favorite time of year and not having gifts was not going to affect how excited I am to go home and drink punch until my teeth are red and eat my weight in sausage balls.

The realization was not only about us and how much crap we already have but also the realization of who is really in need. I did find myself trying to rationalize buying my 13 year old brother something, because "he's still a kid." But let's face it, homeboy didn't need anything. The money we put aside each month as giving money we used to give to others this holiday season.

I'm not writing to pat ourselves on the back or condemn those of you who got some awesome new gifts, (I know there are some of you out there who are 26 years old and with child who just love to unwrap gifts and I get it) but I'm writing to inspire. To inform you that it's okay to speak up and say we want to do things differently. You can inspire others, I know many of my family members who came to me and said they were so grateful to be able to give to others this year. And frankly, it's okay to feel guilty. Because for the last few Christmases as I sat in a room full of adults (mostly) opening gifts I couldn't help but think the whole thing was ridiculous. I wonder how my heart will feel when we have little ones but my hope is that it's something similar to this: A Holy Experience

That particular blog post changed my view on so much and I'm so grateful that it's become a part of us.

And in the interest of full disclosure I did receive a beautiful handmade scarf. Along with the most anxiety-ridden gift ever: a sewing machine. (which I asked my grandmother if I could return to her if I can't figure it out).

To which she replied: "well if you take it up there thinking you can't do nothin' with it then I guess you won't." Prayers appreciated as I attempt to make her not embarrassed of me proud.

I realize I use this picture a lot but it just sums so much up. And that cute little bird is just a sangin'

Election Reflection

Monday night in small group we talked about some of the world's perceptions of Christians. Words like: cult, ignorant, judgemental, holier than thou, unwilling to listen, unwilling to befriend non-Christians were thrown around. The next question was: Is there truth to these perceptions? And an overwhelming yes came from all of us. One of our fellow small groupies said "We are called to be set apart and we are. But not for the things we should be. It would be one thing if we were set apart because we were known for being kind, loving, and giving. But that's not how we're known."

I didn't realize it on Monday night but Tuesday would prove to be poster day for all of those negative things we listed. I saw them on my newsfeed one after another. A facebook friend of mine even stated that statements like those made on social networks is why she stays away from organized religion. And who can blame her?

For one thing, it seems people need the welfare system explained to them. And for another, tough shit if people take advantage of it. Should we do away with the whole system because a small percentage may work the system a little? Let me ask you a question, have you never taken advantage of a situation you've found yourself in? It's not an excuse but it points the finger back at you which is the only place your finger should EVER point.
 The welfare system and unemployment are in place to help those in need. And frankly it has to be because the "church" isn't doing it's job of reaching out. Everyone wants to cry "socialism" but without taking it to that extreme why are people so afraid to GIVE?

As a Christian I believe that what I have isn't mine to begin with. It belongs to God. And what would God want me to do with my money? Hoard it all up and keep it from those in need because I'm paranoid that someone might not need it as much as I think they should?

As Christians how do we look when we post things like "I work every day so that those on the draw can have an iphone, a new car and fake nails." (I've seen that from PLENTY of "Christians"). Is that how we win those people to Christ? Judging them when we have no idea what their life is like? Judging them based on their looks or the car they drive or because they're unable to find work.

If all of the scare tactics about coal actually come to fruition some people may find themselves in the position to have to be on welfare or receive unemployment. The harsh reality is that most of us are only a layoff and a couple of overdue bills away from needing help. And how would we feel if people judged us.

As Christians we are called to live like Christ but I'm not sure most "Christians" know who that is. I know I haven't always known. I posted a quote from Jon Cusack a while back on pinterest. When asked who his hero is: "Let's go with Jesus. Not the gay-hating, war-making, political tool of the Right, but the outcast, subversive, supreme adept who preferred the freaks and lepers and despised and doomed the rich and powerful." We have turned Jesus into just that, our political tool.
In response to those bracelets everyone used to have what would Jesus do? I don't claim to know everything he would do but I do know he would love. Because that's what he does. And Jesus probably wouldn't ask questions when people said they needed help. He wouldn't be skeptical or try to judge them by the kind of phone they had or if they smoked a cigarette. He would probably just help. 

I believe Christians can be a part of any political party and have a wide range of convictions. I also understand that Christians come in all shapes and sizes and with different interpretations of the Bible. But I also hope as Christians we are all trying to strive to be like Christ and not like what we think "Christians" are because to be frank I'm not too crazy about what that looks like these days.

Who says you can't go home?

I desperately want to be one of those bloggers who has always has the right words to say. But I'm not. I come from a place where I say "she done it." Especially when surrounded by others likely to do the same. My sister corrected me as if I didn't know I was wrong. Somehow I just think my grandmother understands me better that way. I'm probably not giving her enough credit.

I spent 5 days back home and just returned yesterday. Home is so good. Things about it hurt me though. It feels like home doesn't always understand who I've become or what I'm about but the important ones do. Or they at least try to understand. I appreciate that. I am different. Always have been. Some ways better than others. I was different in bad ways for a lot of years. I was bitchy, cynical, negative and judgemental. And because that was me, I have to start everyday now making a conscious effort to be positive, tolerant, loving and kind. It comes more naturally. I don't have to work as hard at being nice. Being a pissed off teenager actually took quite a bit of effort.

The good things of home were running into an old friend from high school downtown and chatting about "adult" things like money, mortgages and car payments. Getting to snuggle up to a precious baby boy. Fried chicken at my granny's house. Cousins, young and old. Laughing with girlfriends. Laying in bed with my dog and sister. Seeing my brother growing up. Being asked to pray for someone. Sewing. Robo's. Talking religion and politics with people that don't agree with me and being able to still love one another at the same time. Those are things that make me want to stay in Pound forever.

But I do have a husband and a house here in Blacksburg so I returned. Happy to be in the presence of someone I don't have to explain myself to. Someone who understands me and welcomes my opinion. Someone who when I say I feel like people have accused me of losing my faith can look at me and say "so what if you have." He is honest and fair and I thank God for him. (I also thank God that I returned to a freezer full of deer meat!)

My mom is worried about people's perception of me. She says she understands my heart but others are quick to judge. I understand that. Most people cannot understand how I came to the beliefs I hold now from where I once was. But as I said to my mom, those who care about me will ask. I'm not asking anyone to agree with me. But if you love me you will be able to understand where I'm coming from.

You know how on Eat, Pray, Love Liz is trying to find her word. Well I've found mine. It's: give. I believe that's my calling. Give love. Give help. Give hope. Give Jesus. I hope that I can do that daily. If that's my purpose I will devote my life to it. I ask for prayers as I feel disheartened by some but hopeful because of others.

My election prediction: Jesus never fails. I stole a button from a Christian bookstore that said that when I was 2. I still have it and I still believe it. God's will be done. Amen.

A couple highlights of home:

I was not warned that my picture would be taken at girl's night which is why I look so lovely.

My sweet Shelby girl. She is such a hoot.