Literary Preferences Indicative of the Real Me

I’m always so surprised to learn of how people perceive me. When it comes to my taste in literature, people usually think that I’m a Jane Austen fan. I suppose I do present a composed, prim & proper front and people assume I like to read endearing British romances. Hmmm, I suppose with a title like the one on this entry, it is no wonder where people get their ideas. While I do enjoy Jane Austen movies, I suffered through Pride & Prejudice when I was forced to read it in high school. I never picked up another Austen novel. In fact, I avoid most British literature.
I prefer gritty American novels like Of Mice & Men or Grapes of Wrath by Steinbeck, The Sound & the Fury by Faulkner, or Bless the Beasts & the Children by Glendon Swarthout. One of my favorites is Lord of the Flies by William Golding. I like stark realism. In Of Mice & Men I physically ache with the depth of loneliness in the lives of the ranch hands. I can’t shake free of the layer of dirt caking the skin of all who experienced the dust bowl as described in Grapes of Wrath. I’ll never forget his image of the turtle lying helplessly on its back beside the road—unable to change the fact that it will starve to death because it is powerless to flip itself over. I enjoyed both The Sound & the Fury and Bless the Beasts & the Children because the varying perspectives of the narrators reveal their struggles coming from dysfunctional families. That is a reality that resonates with me. I suppose discussing juicy tidbits from a letter while sitting under a parasol on the well-manicured lawn of a sweeping estate or waltzing with wealthy bachelors is so far removed from my own world that I find little with which to relate.

Happy Birthday, Matthew!

Here is Matthew opening up his gifts. He loved the tissue paper the most!

Happy Birthday, Noah!

Noah opens his gifts. Dwight & I bought him some first word books.

From the Pumpkin Patch

Here are a few more Halloween pics. I figured out how to turn the vertical pictures so that you don't get a crick in your neck trying to look at them.

Birthday Boys

Noah & Matthew, my twin nephews, turned 1 last week. They enjoyed their ice cream cake. Well, actually Matthew ate a pretty large piece while Noah seemed to enjoy the frosting. I don't think he knew what to think about the cold part.
The Cake

Noah

Noah smiles at Mommy

Matthew with grandma

Matthew

Twins 1st Halloween

We went to my sister's house to help pass out candy to the neighborhood kids. The twins wore their Halloween costumes. I share them here. Matthew is the Great Pumpkin and Noah is the Chick-fil-a cow. I thought it was so creative of my sister to make a sign for him to wear that says "Eat Mor Chikin"

Authenticity

Yesterday the house church I’m involved in definitely crossed the threshold to greater authenticity. (When I refer to group members I’ll use their first initial to protect their privacy). I know that J. is a part of our group because he forces us to truly be real with each other even when that might mean tension. He has said that even though we meet in homes we are no different than a traditional church if we continue to hide behind our masks. But living that out—wow it is hard!

We have been trained from childhood to be false—especially in church. Do we really want others to know that we were fighting with our spouse on the way to church? We paste on a smile and say, “I’m fine,” when someone asks how we are doing. For most of us 8 times out of 10 we are dying inside. Lately, when someone asks me that, I tell the truth when I’m not doing fine. Maybe they don’t enjoy the tirade that follows, but hey, maybe they shouldn’t ask if they don’t want to know. I digress.

Someone in our group confessed something to the group. Several members did what we all do when we are uncomfortable with a confession. They placated—denying the truth of her confession. But she admitted that she is a good actor and I could relate. I’m a professional at the “nice girl” façade. But we have to trust that people know themselves more than we do. If they admit something, we should validate them. We are not dealing with the problem when we try to deny its existence. Our response needs to be: praise the person for the bravery it took to be honest, listen to his/her heart on the matter, and help him/her work through it.

J. had the guts to point out that we weren’t really listening or helping her with our responses. He was right. That is the beauty of it. My hope is that we learn how to truly listen and respond properly. Christians are too good at placating one another and patting each other on the back. We shy away from the uncomfortable. As long as we do that, we are merely hiding behind our masks. We will continue to be strangers and won’t enjoy the true intimacy of communion as the church. True communion is knowing the best and worst about one another—and loving each other in spite of it. If we won’t even acknowledge the worst, we will never be authentic. I would like to share the following song written by the late Rich Mullins, my favorite musician. When I first heard this song over 10 years ago, I didn’t really get it. I do now. He is talking about Christians in the church. When we meet and are still strangers, we can instantly love one another because we have Christ in common. But we must lay down our fear of rejection and allow other believers to see the real “us.” If we want to experience authentic communion, we must trust others to love us even when they see us at our worst. When we can be real, the “communion” (bread & wine) will have a deeper meaning and we will understand peace. The second verse talks about how even when we begin to grow in our knowledge of one another, it is still hard to pull off those masks completely. We imprison ourselves and are lonely as a result. I think the struggle our group was having yesterday was that we were blind to her need because we know her mask—we were surprised and uncomfortable with the real person. Truth is we know that we are all wearing a mask. When someone breaks social protocols and removes the mask, the party is over. But true communion begins.

Peace
By Rich Mullins
Though we’re strangers, still I
love you
I love you more than your mask
and you know you have to trust
this to be true
and I know that’s much to ask
but lay down your fears, come and
join this feast
He has called us here, you and me

Chorus
So may peace rain down
from Heaven
like little pieces of the sky
little keepers of the promise falling
on these souls
this drought has dried
In his Blood and in His Body, In
This Bread and in this Wine
Peace to you, Peace of Christ
To you

And though I love you, still
we’re strangers
prisoners in these lonely hearts
and though our blindness
separates us
still His Light shines in the dark
and His outstretched arms are still
strong enough to reach
behind these prison bars to set
us free




This is not Rich Mullins because he did not do a video recording of it before his death. This is someone else singing the song.