Summer is for...

photo by Jose Manuel Rios Valiente

Suddenly realizing I haven't blogged in almost a month.
Unfinished posts rambling around in my head.
Maybe I'll blog tomorrow.
Maybe I won't.
Enjoying time with my boys.
Relaxing and gardening and working and a million other things.

Yes, I'm still here. I've had things to blog about...finally getting my garden in the ground, the lilacs at the farm in full bloom and Indy picking them every time he passes them and heaping the wilting lilacs and dandelions of 6 year old love all over my dirt-grimed hands. But they were posts that begged for pictures and I kept forgetting to have my camera when I needed it. Yes, I am one of only about 2 people in the US under the age of 50 who doesn't have a phone that takes pictures. My husband is the other one.

And then there is the stone with the heart-shaped hole in it that I found in the rock bed the other day, the one that has me thinking over and over again about how God promised his people he would take their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh. And there's words to be said there, because right now I feel like my heart is a little bit stone.

There's posts about grace for myself and my boys, a book review that I've been wanting to write for a few months, and another book that I'm watching the mail for because I get to review an advance copy (yay!). Then there's the post about being outnumbered in a house full of males, all of whom are right now trying to hang NASCAR posters on my kitchen wall. Give it up guys, I may be only one, but I wield the power of motherhood.

So there WILL be more posting soon, I promise! Just as soon as things settle down around here...

Fill 'er up!

When I first started this blog I thought I was going to spend a lot of time focusing on the choices we make as we try to live simply. As I wrote more I realized that part of living simply is tied in to the quest to live authentically, but "Authentically Rea" just doesn't have the same ring as a blog name. Still, simplicity and what that means and how that looks are a big part of my life and shape a lot of the things that I do.

So for today I want to pose this simple thought...

What if we said grace every time we started our car? Or every time we filled up with gas? What if we treated our fuel consumption with reverence? Would it change the way we drive? The way we feel when we swipe our card at the pump?

I first saw this short video yesterday, and today with my tank nearly empty I stopped at the gas station. I swiped my card, pumped my gas, cringed at the total and thought of how little it used to cost to fill my car. And then I got in the car, bowed my head and gave thanks. I gave thanks for a checking account balance that allows us to fill up our car when we need it instead of letting it sit in the driveway because we can't afford the gas. I gave thanks for my smaller car that can still be filled up without cracking the $50 mark (unless I'm SERIOUSLY on empty). I asked for wisdom not to take this resource for granted, but to be a good steward of my driving habits.

And a curious thing happened. I pulled away from the pump happy.

Sometimes the root of simplicity lies in knowing how to give thanks.

First is last

I'm writing this for Rachel Held Evens' "Rally to Restore Unity" this week. The idea is to remind us, with humor if possible, that no matter what we are all one body. I'll admit at first I wasn't sure if I could do this. Lately the gut-punches of being on the wrong side of the Real Christian™ fence have felt like they are coming hard and fast and I can't catch my breath before reading or hearing something that slams me down again. Sometimes I wonder what the point is. This post is simply my thoughts on the matter.


My boys are arguing again. I'm tuning them out because it is the same old argument that they've had for months and they both are right but insist the other is wrong; there is no winning until understanding grows.

The beginning? One of them declares a race of some sort. Who can get to the car first. Who can stand up fastest. Who can say "I win!" first. You know, typical 6 and 9 year old stuff. Nonessentials. And whenever the 6 year old wins the 9 year old says with the full weight of scripture behind him, "Well, first is last and last is first, so I win!" This, of course, sends the 6 year old into a tizzy as he defends his title and me straight into migraine zone if the argument happens on the way to school (as it so often does). This week I had a talk with the 9 year old about his attitude not quite being what Jesus had in mind when he talked about the last being first, but he clearly didn't get it.

As grownups we can be just as childish sometimes. We seem to think that Jesus said we should ACT like little children. Three years ago I read an article about a fracas between Greek and Armenian (not Arminian) priests and worshippers on Orthodox Palm Sunday at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Apparently it began because a Greek priest was present when it was the Armenians' time to hold THEIR service, so in the true spirit of the risen Lord, they kicked him out, pushed him down and started whacking him with palm fronds.

Yes, palm fronds. Which were then also used to assault the police who tried to break things up. Because nothing says "Hosanna in the highest!" like using your palm frond as an assault weapon. Apparently the centuries old 'status quo' of who can be where and when had been upset and all bets were off. And we won't even go into the pre-Christmas fight at the Church of the Nativity when the priests went at each other with brooms.

In some ways it's easy to read stories like that and be almost amused. Imagine that, those priests pummeling each other instead of living out a life of love made flesh, the very reason for the sites they are so jealously protecting.

And yet...and yet...are we that far above all that? Maybe we haven't turned to brooms and stones or palm fronds. But how often do we pummel at our fellow Christians over the insignificant stuff? Over who has the 'right' to do something? Over our worship styles, the formality of our services? Over whether or not one used appropriate language to speak of God? What is the 'status quo' we think we are protecting? Who holds the perfect understanding of every nuance of God's nature? We've marked our territory, we've declared that we own this part of Christendom and then someone comes in and challenges us, enters our sacred territory with different garb. And the fists come up. First is last, last is first...or is it? It depends on how we're looking at it, doesn't it?

So maybe we need to put down the palm fronds and the signs. Maybe we need to figure out where our common ground is. We worship a risen Savior. None of us can fathom the depths of who God is. We love because HE loves.

(apparently Jesus also loves us when we make silly faces)

I don't know how to heal from the slashes of the palm fronds. I haven't figured out how to reach across that divide in love just yet, there's too much risk. All I can do is try to speak love with every word and every action. The only person I can change is me.