More Than You Could Ask or Imagine

Sometimes...words are just so inadequate.

I have struggled to wrap my brain around what God has done in the last two months. I have expressed it to friends, discussed it with family and tried to compile feeble praise to an Abba who loves to give sweet surprises to His children. I have witnessed the exuberance of friends who have been on this Journey with us and delighted as their uncontained excitement for us has spilled over onto the walls and floors of our new home. And yet, words have often failed me.

How do you describe a God who patiently walked me through the steps of what I thought we needed to work toward sustainability (at least  a 1 acre farm) toward the reality of where He wanted us (a 0.1 acre urban farm)?

How do you find words for a God who prompted an annoying homeowner to walk down an alleyway at precisely the right moment we exited viewing his home, which "coincidentally" steered us to the next home that I didn't even think we needed to view (and where we now live)?

How do you honor a God that I know (after meeting them) inspired the previous owners to pray for the exact family to come along that would appreciate the home they had lovingly tended for 35 years?

How do you explain a God who gave you every minute detail in a home that you've ever wanted, but were afraid to believe you could have?

How do you thank a God who knew you needed a lawn mower, yard tools, a trimmer, a new queen-sized bed, a shower curtain, space for indoor hydroponics, even stakes to hold up your tomato plants...and had the previous owners leave it all in excellent, clean condition???

How do you give voice to the amazement of a God who kept whispering, "Don't worry that the size of the yard is too small. You never know what may happen. There may be an abandoned lot or other space free up someday?"...only to discover on Monday that there is a community garden less than 1/2 a block from our home, and by Thursday, find someone working in it, which prompts my sweet friend to laugh and say, "Let's go talk to her", and the woman graciously contacts the person in charge who seriously offers you one to one and a half of the plots, hesitantly asks if you're okay with using only organic gardening practices AND ALMOST APOLOGETICALLY ASKS IF YOU'D BE WILLING TO SET OUT ANY ABUNDANCE FOR THE NEIGHBORS TO TAKE FREELY????????

There is, as yet, one single heart's desire that I have to find unfulfilled! My husband and children are pleased with the location, we are excited to become familiar with the bus system, and there is low-income housing down the street that others may fear, but expectantly calls me to serve and Love in the Name of my precious Savior and Abba.

I have attempted and failed to express to those around me all that has happened these last eight weeks. I have apologized for appearing docile while their excitement cannot be contained. It has truly been more emotion than I can absorb. It almost feels like I'm beginning to simply "take it in stride".

I never want to take for granted the precious care my Father provides, but yesterday as we walked back from the community garden, I think my sweet friend summed it up best, 'How could the One who shaped and molded your small heart in His hands not know exactly what you needed and wanted?' 

I guess it was just a matter of time, refining in us, and prompting beautiful people to give up their well-loved home before it could all be played out to His glory and honor.

God, please create the words in my heart and soul that express my joy and delight in You. And when words are not enough, may my life be a reflection of Your grace, a witness of Your love and a steady stream of mercy flowing out into everyone around me. You. Are. Amazing. I am blessed to be Your's! Amen!

We're Moving!

Literally and virtually (at least partially-virtual!)...

Confused? Don't be.

Through a series of conversations with friends, strangers and the Holy Spirit, I've realized the next leg of my Journey involves teaching others how to grow their own food and become less dependent on our somewhat shaky (and cancer causing!) food system. Given that God has provided the perfect place for us to become more sustainable ourselves (post to follow soon), I'm packing up my gardening skills and passion for teaching others to my new blog The Beard Cutter's Farm.

I'll still post what God is doing in me personally here, but if you're interested in becoming more sustainable, finding great recipes, or if you're local, finding out what produce and treats we have for sale, then visit the "farm" through the link above, or in person.

We're excited to see what God has in store for us...but we absolutely know it involves loving, serving and teaching others along the Way!

Hope to see you soon!

Why Serving In Our Cities Matters

Houston, Texas, February 2015

I've reached a place in my devotional reading of The Joy of the Gospel by Pope Francis, where he writes about why reaching our cities for Jesus should be a priority. I love how he expresses this and thought you would like to hear it too

"In cities, as opposed to the countryside, the religious dimension of life is expressed by different lifestyles, daily rhythms linked to places and people. In their daily lives people must often struggle for survival and this struggle contains within it a profound understanding of life which often includes a deep religious sense. We must examine this more closely in order to enter into a dialogue like that of our Lord and the Samaritan woman at the well where she sought to quench her thirst." 

Cities are not a "lost cause" or worthy of our fear or disdain. Cities are places the people of God should flock to in order to learn a "profound understanding of life which often includes a deep religious sense."

If the people of God will not go, someone or something else will fill the void. Do we then have the right to judge or complain about the end result?

"Love God. Love ___________ (insert your city name)." This is what the folks of Mission Year do everyday. The beautiful part is, we can too.

Love God. Love Cincinnati.

You CAN Go Home Again...

but you'll be changed.

*******************

I anticipated this. I knew it may happen. It does not make me sad. It makes life real.

I joyfully picked up our oldest Friday afternoon from Indianapolis International Airport, hugged and kissed her sweet little ginger head, had lunch with my parents, sister-in-law and niece and nephews, and started the long drive home.

It's not lengthy...but it was quiet.

My introvert who has had her comfortable, suburban world jolted by the reality of a broken and often hopeless one, needed time to decompress. My usual tactic of pummelling my children with questions until they open up was not appropriate, I had perceived as much.

At some point in the journey I must have asked the right question and the conversation flowed more easily. It has increasingly done so over the last two days...yet, there's one significant change that I have noticed: 

She's no longer set off by the small things that used to light her fuse.

*****************

While I knew maturity would arrive swiftly for an 18 year old (now 19 year old) who's sacrificing comfort and the "norm" for a woman of her tender age, I wasn't prepared for the "untroubledness" of her maturity.

I was fully prepared to avoid her triggers. We all have them. In families we learn to step around them to keep the peace. When I've asked about laundry, food choices, and plans for each day, I think I'm no longer perceived as a nag...but she understands that my genuine concern for her is manifested in the little things.

What I've been asking myself for the last 48+ hours though are questions of myself that I think each Christian should delve into and accompanied by the Holy Spirit, grapple with and mold into our being and modus operandi for daily life:

What can cause us to abandon our priorities?

What can help us not to sweat the "small stuff"?

What must happen for me to put into perspective the minutiae of life?

What changes inside a perfectionist to bring them more calm, peace and joy?

The answer is simple...yet profound...

Love!

It may have been long-distance, but I have seen this beauty fall in love with a city, a neighborhood, a school and the children inside of it. She has talked with prostitutes, shared meals with feeble grandmothers in her new home, made pies and candy for her neighbors, taught children to sing and draw and enjoyed a birthday "cake" made from playground mulch accompanied by a preschool-pitched chorus of "Happy Birthday Miss Abbey".

She has also learned the humility of poverty and dependence upon others. She has found pleasure in the simple things like a free, reconditioned bike, local taco stands and new friends that quickly become family.

She has found new outrage inside of herself. While others her age are frustrated with the latest iPhone update or that their favorite cafe' no longer carries their preferred mocha, she has discovered fury over racism, injustice, deep poverty, and the desperation that drives people to merely survive instead of thrive.

She has found her Voice...and it is a melody of grace.

And the Curtain Closes...For Now

Abbey always tries to bring home a Playbill and a ticket that we find from each performance that we usher.

Last night, Abbey and I ushered for The Phantom of the Opera. It was, as expected, a wonderful performance. We have seen it twice previously and she saw this same production with her friend last week. The staging, costumes and sets were different than in previous years. My in-house Broadway expert tells me that's because this tour came out of the 25th Anniversary commemoration from a few years ago. During our pre-show meeting, the house manager shared that these sets and some of the costumes are from the original West End London production of 1986. In short, it was absolutely beautiful.

But why is this significant?

You see, I graduated from high school in 1986 and by the time I was in my senior year of college in 1990, I owned a two CD set of the original London cast recording. I also had the full libretto in a limited edition that I think came with or was ordered for free from either the full piano score (which I also owned) or the CD set. Either way, I know it was free. To say that I had the score memorized is an understatement. For anyone, like me, that owns these...you are fully aware that by the time the production made the trip "across the pond" many of the words in the big ballads had been changed. Almost 30 years later, the original words still run through my head when I hear the songs sung.

Over the years, I shelved the CDs and I tossed the piano score into a stack of other such works and sadly, I either gave or threw away the free libretto. Little did I know that some day my oldest child would become quite possibly the youngest Phantom-phile ever.

I can't even explain how it happened, but by the time she was 8 or 9 she was in full Phantom-mode. Her passion has exceeded mine for close to a decade now. When we visited New York City last year, nothing could calm her agitation until she stood in front of the theatre where it all began.

Abbey in NYC 2013

But what occurred to me throughout the day yesterday is that somehow, in only the way that God can do, He gave us a beautiful gift last night. The first Broadway show Abbey and I ever saw together with just the two of us was Phantom when she was 9 years old. (To the best of my recollection, that's about the age she was. )

Half of her life later, this was most likely the final Aronoff production we will serve as ushers together. I'm teary just thinking about it. Yet...it is as it should be.

Scripture tells us that "When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me." (I Cor. 13:11) Attending Broadway shows is by no means childish, but now she's ready to leave my side...and share her love of theatre, music, art, beauty, cooking, healthy eating, compassionate ministry, service, giving, people and children in the perfect place where God can use her.

So yes, the melancholy of all that was happening last night (and some mild lower back pain) had me sitting out of the theatre for the second act. I knew full well that this beautiful bookend to my life with Abbey was on display for my heart to see and I couldn't quite take it all in. But I am so thankful for the times we have had to share. In the metaphoric sense, my curtain is closing.

But oh the blessed joy of seeing her curtain arise!

Trying to Put into Words, What is Too Difficult to Speak

Last week I drove to a place I've never been
To meet someone I'd never met
His wisdom I sought
And he was gracious to agree

This place, not far from my beloved
River and Reds and Broadway shows
Was like nothing I've never seen

Boarded windows and empty lots
Broken sidewalks and lonely people
Everywhere I looked brokenness
Brokenness

How can this be so close to hospitals
World class universities, Christian academia,
Art museums and historic homes?

My anticipation of meeting was thick
Delightful interruptions through plate-glass viewing
Were welcome

Human behavior fascinates me
People watching, my favorite hobby
There's a young couple across the room
Probably from the university, visiting "the hood"
Probably cool, probably not intimate
Yet?

We're told to reduce, reuse, recycle
So why is the man in the dirty clothes
Stopping in the road to pick up
Something he can use, an oddity?

That woman in the low-fitting tank top,
Well-endowed with womanhood,
She's either more confident than most women I know
Or can't afford the luxury of a bra

I smile either way

It looks like everyone is going somewhere
And nowhere
But I am here
Beginning to get nervous about
Where the Spirit will lead this conversation

My breakfast partner arrives and is known in this place
I like him already
He knows our server well,
Hugs her tight,
And brings loud sunshine in the room

Introductions and explanations
Why Dale couldn't make it
Maybe next time

He asks my story
My story?

How do you summarize a lifetime of ups and downs?
This is not a chance to air dirty laundry
But a place to share a Journey
And what has brought us here

"The American Dream didn't work for us."

"And we're happy about that."

"Our eyes have been painfully opened
To a world of no American Dreams."

He asks probing questions

How did you get here?
When did it start?
Help me understand your story?
Why urban ministry?
What about your kids?
Do you have community?
No? Why not?
That sucks!

Now hang on and bare with me
Cause here's what I see...

You are not young enough, arrogant enough,
Nor rich enough to serve the Underclass
You are already working amid the Blue-collar Poor.
Why would you go a step lower?

The Blue-collar Poor are the most under-served in America
I know one church
Doing it right
I'll introduce you

Your kids?
Your kids don't stand a chance in streets like these
You'll lose them
They'll feel isolated
Why would you leave the class you already serve?

Single moms, latch-key kids,
Working-class neighbors
Getting Nickel and Dimed (Yeah...read that book!)
They need people like you
Loving and serving

But you need to join with others in community

It will be a small church
An old church
Families that have attended for generations
No dynamic preaching
Just a place to love Blue-collar Survivors

You could befriend polka dancers for all I care
It doesn't have to be a church,
Just join community
Somewhere

You've been hurt
You've lost your net
Look for a place to cast out a new one

I listen intently
And agree with solid truth
I wish everyone had a chance
For penetrating insight
Candid camaraderie
And affirmation of their survival

Mental note-
Affirm others in their survival skills

As we talk and listen
My heart becomes aware of heaviness
I'm as broken as that sidewalk out there
Why?

He speaks truth
I agree with his words
So why am I breaking?

He uses words like underclass and different species.
And I'm sad we've created a sub-level to this life

Why do some never get out of the basement?

And I know he speaks truth,
And I know for our family, he's right
But still, I'm breaking

Why does one baby have a 14-year-old prostituted mother?
And I get an easy ticket in the white burbs?

Why do I have to be young, arrogant or rich
To make a difference in the basement?

He must know my thoughts...
Because it will crush your soul
It will pour you out
Wring you out
Spend you empty
And leave you bare

And I know he speaks truth
And I know for our family,
He's right

But while I'm breaking
Two words keep pushing up against my brain
The pounding rhythm of a throbbing soul

Two little words that nag
Until they won't be ignored

But God!

But God
Could keep me sane
As He keeps me on my knees

But God
Can heal the wings
Of one that never had a chance to fly

But God
Can surround my soul
Through crushing?
Yes, and pain

Doubt
Worry
Evil
Sin
Grief
Despair
Yes-all there!

BUT GOD!

My soul is crying out
I have no money
But God's wealth never ends

I have no youth
But God tells me my marathon never ends
Run the race with Him
When my strength is ending
Fall into Him

I have no arrogance that I am always right
But God would lead and never be wrong
When I join Him in His work
I cannot fail

And I know He speaks Truth
And I know for our family He is spot on
But still my soul is breaking

I choose to drive the city streets
Past the pain
Past the cracks
Past decay
Past a casino that promises big dreams
And a Big River that carries the filth away

Past the million dollar condos
Past the Southern City at the Tip
Past the Basilica where God's beauty is on fire
Past the less urban
Urban town

Past the working-poor neighborhoods
Where one day I think we'll live
Out into commercialization of a beating suburban heart

And I replay
And I process
And I ruminate
And I try to swallow it back down

But my tears are at the edge
They bust through the well of my grief
Spilling down my shirt
Struggling to let go and pull myself together

My kids can't see this weepy puddle
How do I put words to the pain I feel?
Help me God!
I don't understand what is growing in me

It's rage
It's a holy fire
It's indignation at a world
Where the barnacles on the boat of Life
Dwelling under the surface
Are ignored until they've grown so big
We scrape them into a helpless heap.

They pile up
Or kill each other off
We blame them for growing down there
But if we'd just cleaned up
Every now and then
And given them a chance to grow in the Light
We wouldn't have this mess

I don't blame my breakfast guest
He's much wiser
Been walking those sidewalks
Longer than I ever could
He's honest
He's real
And he's kept his tattered faith
And his humor
Both good signs

And I know he spoke truth
And I know for our family
He is spot on

What I can't shake
What clings like dew on my soul
Is that if it were God's Will
And if it's where God wanted us
I'm still just naive enough
To believe

Through all the pain I've known
And the grace I've seen
If it was really the portion He had for me...

But God!