With Cupped Hands

There is a posture I often emulate to better position my heart to reflect an attitude that I want to project: cupped and open hands.

At the end of every church service, when the pastor reads the Benediction, I cup my hands and hold them open as a representation of hearing the word. accepting the word. internalizing the message. It represents my desire to be open and receive what God has in store for me.

It is not just the physical posture of cupped hands that is important, but rather the heart stance. So, in times and places where it would be just a wee bit strange for me to be standing there with my hands open in my front of me (which is probably most situations) I evoke the image of cupped hands in my head.

Otherwise, just picture me at the cash register with open hands as the grocer tells me my total. Not awkward at all. Or how about in a meeting discussing changes to a project. umm...excuse me, why are your hands like that? do you need something?...oh no, sorry. I am just trying to hear what you say with an open heart. ok crazy!. 

My most recent encounter with needing to conjure up this image was returning home to Kansas City after visiting my family in California this past week.

First off, if you left this...

you would have problems too. Just because. Period. (Also, please note that I predict the following will happen: my parents will give me grief that the photo I post in relation to it being hard for me to leave is a picture of the ocean rather than them. Noted. That is why there is a photo of them here too - oh, and because I love them :)). 

The image I tried to focus on was different than my norm; this time I visualized holding both of my hands separate and loose at my sides. I tried (am still trying?) to posture a representation of appreciating the goodness that both my California and Kansas City homes offer me without clinging to them.

My left hand holds California. my parents. sunshine. ocean. childhood memories. many family friends.
My right hand holds Kansas City. my new marriage. church and community. passion-fulfilling career. snow? (nope...still not really that into it)

I can loosely hold both of them. I just can't cup my hands and hold all of them at the same time. Which means hard goodbyes are inevitable and gratitude is still possible.

My left hand holds the sadness of leaving lots that I love.
My right hand holds the goodness and blessings that God gave to me.

And it is ok to hold both the sadness and goodness at the same time. It is ok to be a 27 year-old who sits at gate C17 at the Phoenix airport during her layover and lets tears stream down her face without caring who awkwardly stares at her because she already misses her parents (to all of the parents and future parents out there, this statement should give you encouragement. there is potential for your child to love you this deeply).

I am beyond blessed to love people and places so much that it hurts to leave. I am beyond blessed to come home to people and places that bring so much joy to my life. So I will hold this posture. I will hold my hands. open. to my side. recognize the goodness of God to give me so much to love. receive His strength to carry me when it feels hard to not cup my hands and hold all that I desire. and rest in His arms knowing my ultimate home is with Him.

Let's Break Bread Together

Breaking bread (no...not breaking bad) is not a commonly used phrase. No one really asks me to come break bread with them. But this phrase means more to me than sharing a meal.

It can hold so many different meanings for so many different people. I believe that breaking bread stems out of a desire for community. It is an offspring of God's goodness in our lives. I believe that breaking bread can look different and I love exploring, experiencing, and hosting opportunities to break bread with people. The whole concept makes me smile ear-to-ear and I relish such a beautiful concept.

My most recent experience with hospitality took place this past Saturday. Grant and I hosted a Valentine's Dinner Party.  Breaking bread with people you love is so sacred and intimate.

Dining Table Setting. I'm obsessed with these gold chargers!

You might be thinking that sacred and intimate are odd word choices to describe a dinner party. I get it. But consider this...

Breaking bread is a timeless activity in which hundreds (thousands? millions?...how old is our Earth? I swear I was never taught science. sigh. judge away) of generations participated. Can't you picture Jesus pouring wine for disciples at dinner? Can't you smell the food that women prepared in the kitchen (Probably ignore the body odor that was also flowing into the scene. I don't think they had our idea of hygiene. This is selective sensory imagination time). Odd sense recall aside, such a lasting act becomes sacred.

There must be a captivating story happening right here...

I love that the tradition of creating a meal and then inviting neighbors to join, is timeless.

Intimate comes to mind for a couple of reasons:

1) breaking bread with friends and family is an invitation to slow down. I think when we put time and energy into the food and environment we are in, we are more likely to pause. and appreciate.



2) breaking bread is an easier-to-accept-invitation for real conversation. There is something about sitting around the table and sharing a meal that invites us to converse over topics that really matter and truly share our hearts and lives with one another. What is more intimate than sharing our personal joys and struggles? (And doing it while you are chewing. I hear true intimacy is created when you talk and chew at the same time! Ya, let me see that spit-filled pork. mhmm)



3) breaking bread creates vulnerability. Come to my home. Eat my home-cooked meal. Let's live life together. I actually love this type of vulnerability, yet I still have a piece of me that worries about my cooking not being good enough or not having enough to say. You can fill in the blank for that statement, because people have different worries, but moving past them is key to truly living life together. (I have to admit- some of the "my cooking won't be good" worry is self-inflicted because I always seem to make the interesting choice of trying a new recipe the night we have company....so...there's that. I will choose to believe that I work well under pressure and like high stakes.  Let's just call it a bold choice of trying a new recipe rather than an interesting one. Yup, bold, that's it!) 



4) breaking bread is messy. Both figuratively and literally. You have people over and the pork is done too soon so you have to keep it warm, but the candles aren't lit, and the welcome drinks you were so excited about are not poured yet. Oh ya, and the champagne popped in the fridge and is running down all of the shelves and across the kitchen floor. And there goes the timer and the doorbell. Acutally, surprisingly, all of that happened on Saturday and none of it stressed me out (yesssss people, progress!). You want more literal mess examples- after cleaning up, I now know the messiest eaters of the bunch and who had their own hair land on their plate. :)

a sign of a great night= lots of mess

Thinking back to some of my most poignant memories of experiencing hospitality reminds me of how different it can look. In middle school, I can remember loving going over to a particular friend's house. It wasn't because it was the biggest or nicest home. It wasn't because the family had everything together. It wasn't because it was the most convenient or the cleanest or anything special, really. But everything about the experience was inviting and safe and welcoming.You could be yourself and make yourself at home.

 

Breaking bread with girls in my Gospel Community group gave way to such beautiful and real conversation.

Nothing fancy about this breaking bread, but it sure was nifty to get together with my cousin and her husband.

I love that hospitality does not mean that you need to have it all together. I love that breaking bread together can be messy. I love that sometimes it means you offer people drinks and sometimes it means they go to your cabinet without asking and pour themselves wine.


Some books that shape the way I feel about hospitality are below:



Bread and Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table with Recipes


Around the Table
 
Community: Taking Your Small Group Off Life Support (actually about to read it. maybe more to come?)

I would love to hear about other good reads :) Send 'em on over.

"It's Not Fair"

I can remember using the phrase "it's not fair" so many times in my childhood. Especially in the middle school days. Ahh...middle schoolers! what isn't fair...that children go through the awkward middle school phase- see below

Photo: 8th grade promotion dance- all of our finest moments. Also, I still have that dress and wear it. #lifewin

On a more serious note than the fairness of middle-school awkwardness, I was reminded of my desire for justice and for fairness (for both small and large issues) in a recent sermon that touched on the verse "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also" (Matthew 5:39). It was so beautiful to be reminded of how much grace we receive from God and therefore how much grace we can extend to others, even when it is not fair. hear the sermon here

Some struggle with not portioning out what they consider to be "just retaliation" more than others do. My husband is one who would admit to struggling with giving grace when it is undeserved.

When I asked his permission to mention this struggle, he said, "yes, but i will retaliate later for it." Gotta love his humor. :)

There have been moments...let's just say hypothetically ;)...where I complain- loudly- about briefcases, shoes, dirty workout clothes being in random places throughout the house (you must be thinking about how lovely I am to live with. yes, thank you. it is lovely to live with me). Grant's reaction is to immediately shut down and give me the silent treatment for an indefinite amount of time (which he just told me is the reaction of a two year old. see, at least we know we are ridiculous human beings).

We can go on for days about why my reaction is not great, but for the sake of staying on topic, we can focus on how we punish people when we are mad/hurt/upset. Even those we love. Especially those we love.

While silent treatment isn't necessarily my go to and retaliation isn't really my biggest struggle, I can feel the damage of it and see the ways that I feel just in responding in a similarly punishing manner.

What a great reminder that even when we are wronged or feel wronged, we can (should) act out of love. It is freeing to know that we are not the ultimate Judge and how dare I, someone just as messed up as the next person, determine what is fair and just. I don't mean to say that we should overlook injustice. In fact, we are called to work towards justice. I am referring to all of the everyday moments that we feel wronged and then consciously or subconsciously determine the "punishment".

When was the last time you gave someone the cold shoulder?
When was the last time you did the opposite of what your husband/wife/friend/coworker asked of you just to "really show them who is in control"?
When was the last time you stewed over your frustration for months without forgiving?

There are endless examples of how we feel entitled to "teach them a lesson".

But friends, this is so the opposite of grace. Where can I, you, we, see areas of our life where we don't need to hold that grudge because we are free to give grace freely and love extremely? Where can we walk the extra mile even when we were unjustly caused to walk the first? Where can we, instead of exclaiming "it's not fair" to our parents (bahaha...silly throwback example), remember the grace that God offers us and extend that to others?