SheLoves Magazine

How to Run Away. Or: What I Learned from the Wizard of Oz

“It was okay that I desired to run away; I just needed to figure out what exactly I was running away to.”

By Ashley Mandanici | Twitter: @ashleymandanici

Last weekend I ran away. I am not saying that figuratively; I actually ran away. I purchased a plane ticket, packed my cute little purple suitcase and ran as far as my feet could carry me. Apparently, my feet could only carry me as far as Winnipeg, Manitoba.

I’ll be honest; it had been a hard week. No, “hard week” sounds too mild … Last week sucker-punched me in the heart. Yeah, that’s more like it. I was forced to confront some issues at home and at work that I wasn’t really that eager to deal with—and of course, if things are going to happen, they’re all going to happen at the same time.

I felt like a failure. I felt frustrated. And I felt fed up. And when you feel like that many “F” words, you know you need to do something.

I began to identify with Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. I had this insatiable urge to throw all my belongings into a wicker basket, hop onto a bicycle and try and outrun the twister.

However, I couldn’t deny the nagging suspicion that by running away, I was behaving like a complete and utter coward.

“You are under the unfortunate impression that just because you run away you have no courage.”- The Wizard of Oz

On the night of my runaway, a rather wise friend called me up for a chat. As we were talking about our week (sucker punches and all) he made an off-the-cuff remark about how I had “run away” from my problems for the weekend, which followed with me confessing that that was exactly my intention.  This took us along a whole rabbit trail (or yellow brick road if you will) of thoughts ranging from Moses running away from Egypt, to Elijah feeling overwhelmed by leadership, to me trying to explain the entire story of the Wizard of Oz in less than a minute.

Meanwhile, my friend summed up our whole discussion with these simple words :

“Ashley, I guess it’s not about what you are running away from, but rather what you are running away to.”

Off to See the Wizard

I couldn’t help but think about Dorothy again and her quest to see the Wizard. I imagined her happily (and somewhat ignorantly) skipping down the yellow brick road towards the Emerald city. I thought about the characters she found along the way and how they all needed something—a brain, a heart, some courage … a home. I thought about how Dorothy’s problems still managed to find her—the only difference was that this time she was heading somewhere.

The more I thought about it, the more the whole “running away” idea began to appeal to me. It was okay that I desired to run away; I just needed to figure out what exactly I was running away to. I needed to figure out who exactly my Wizard was going to be. You know, just like the fictional movie character I had decided to base my life around.

Just click your heals three times …

The ending of the Wizard of Oz always got me a little angry for a couple different reasons. One, because Dorothy went through all that drama to be told that she had the power to get what she wanted the whole time, and because the movie ends as a dream sequence and I hate when movies end in a dream sequence.

I suppose my weekend ended pretty similarly though, well, apart from the dream sequence thing. (That didn’t happen.) However I needed to run away so I could begin to see “home” more clearly. My runaway put the colour back into my world when I was stuck seeing everything in black and white. My runaway gave my brain a much-needed rest, my heart some much-needed healing, and it also helped me grow a little courage. I was reunited with friends, drove around a new city and got lost a bunch of times. And I smiled so much my face started hurting.

I needed to run away to remind myself where I was going. I needed to run away to remind myself that God wasn’t some Wizard I could only find with the help of a magic formula. God had been with me the whole way. No heal clicking necessary.

And just like my friend Dorothy, I needed to run away to realize I already had everything I needed.

_____________________

My dear SheLoves friends:

• If you could run away to anything or anyone right now, what would you run away to?
• What do you need to find?
• Any other comments or thoughts?

About Ashley:

My name is Ashley and I am the Children’s Ministry Coordinator at Relate Church in Surrey, B.C. My mission is to develop the God-given potential in every child who crosses my path *Insert Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” here*. I love all things jazzy, particularly music, and I tend to break into song throughout the day for no apparent reason. I blog here and tweet @AshleyMandanici

Fear vs Love: My Power to Choose

I believe when we choose to function in love, we choose to step out in courage and break walls of ignorance and indifference …

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

Sometimes, even the most ordinary task can lead to panic. I try to focus on the recipe in front of me and drown out the thoughts swirling around in my mind: “What if I fail?”

From the archives of my brain I pull a memory from the past that has imprinted Fear on my mind. The smell of burnt supper and the image of my husband’s brave face as the beads of sweat form on his brow and he labours through every bite.

I pour some milk into the mixture.

“Was that supposed to be half a cup? Uh-oh.” I messed up the measurements.

As I attempt to juggle tasks, turning from the frying pan to the cutting board, I continue to draw out these fears in my mind. I begin to believe that if I fail at making this meal, I’ve failed as a person, as a woman and as a wife … again.

“What is that smell?”

It’s all downhill from here.

Not only do my thoughts get the best of me, I become an emotional mess, and it starts to show in the way I respond to other people, and the way I hold the knife in my hands.

The thought that my efforts will only disappoint plants itself in my brain, and I begin to feel at first inadequate, then irritated and finally angry. By the time I’m done trying to salvage what I hoped would be an edible meal, I collapse into tears.

“Forget it. You’ll never be good enough,” I tell myself. I’m left feeling hopeless and my evening is ruined.

Thoughts Have Power

Hi, my name is Stephanie and I’m often afraid.

Fear and thoughts of ridicule and rejection, have paralysed me many times in my life. They have kept me from taking risks, reaching out, sharing my heart and even building relationships.

But, I’m learning that God has given us the gift of controlling our thoughts and choosing to function in love, so our lives are not ruled by fear.

In her book The Gift in You, Dr Caroline Leaf explains that our thoughts have emotions attached to them and that all emotions are derived from two root emotions: fear and love. Dr Leaf’s studies have led her to conclude that, because these two emotions cannot function at the same time, at any given moment we are functioning in either fear or in love. And it is our thoughts and emotions that determine our attitude.

“Fear is not a natural part of how we were created … We were created for love and all that goes with it, but we have learned to fear,” says Dr. Leaf.

However, God has equipped us to deal with fear, because we were created with the ability to choose between fear and love. Dr. Leaf explains that this choice happens in the frontal lobe of our brain. She says the frontal lobe allows us to stand outside ourselves and observe our own thinking, helping us make decisions about our thoughts and evaluate information. I imagine this as the part of the brain where I talk to myself.

Making Better Choices

Through my work as a photographer and a writer, I have learned to ask questions in order to understand people and social issues better. I’m finding that it’s also a great way to learn more about myself, so I can make better choices. When I ask myself questions like, “Why are you reacting to making a mistake in this way?” “What are you afraid of?” or “What is stopping you?” the answers lead me to an awareness that can help me choose to operate in love. Obviously, I don’t always make that choice, but I’ve found that asking questions always creates bridges of understanding, whether I’m trying to understand a story, another person, myself, my circumstances or social problems.

As I analyse and understand information, people and circumstances, I can then choose how I am going to react to them. And by controlling my thoughts, I determine my attitude.

I’ve seen how this works in my own life, and the more I practice, the more I find myself analysing situations and choosing to function in love. It’s not easy, because even when I try and perform a simple task, like making a good meal, if I’m not careful, I can let my fears overwhelm, even control me.

I’ve also seen what transformation happens when people learn to realign their thinking. The women at Living Hope in Uganda, have experienced some of the most horrible traumas–abuse, rejection, betrayal. Experiences in their life taught them that they were unwanted, unworthy and incapable. Through discipleship and trauma rehabilitation, they learn to process their traumas and confront their past. They forgive and let go of the toxic elements in their lives. They learn to see themselves and understand their value through God’s lens. Where they once saw brokenness and fear, they begin to see beauty and love. As they realign their thoughts and begin to function in love, their lives, health and relationships improve.

When I hear their stories and try to imagine what it’s like to have travelled their journeys, I sometimes wonder if I could have found the courage to choose to heal in the same way they did.

But they are examples to me that God has given us the key to a great life–one full of purpose–and it all begins with the ability to choose. I believe that when we choose to function in love, we choose to step out in courage, break walls of ignorance and indifference, as well as burst bubbles of isolation. When we choose Love, we become better people and we make our world a better place.

_______________________________________________

About Stephanie:

I believe in the power of storytelling. I’m a photographer and writer for Fakeleft. Together with my husband, we love sharing stories of courage, of strength in the face of adversity, of triumph and hope. I truly believe that by partnering with others who want to bring change and justice to our world, we can actually make a difference.  I’m learning to walk in my nascent faith, but it’s not always easy. It’s an interesting journey.

I am currently living in Uganda, but my heart is everywhere. I’m a proud Latina from Choluteca, Honduras. I wish I had a Latino accent. My favourite meal is dessert and my favourite sport is tanning. I blog at fakeleft.com and tweet at @stephmotz.

Can a Mother Forget the Child She Has Born?

“Just a few weeks ago we had to call the police, because a mother was prostituting her own daughter.”

By Danielle Strickland | Twitter: @djstrickland

Mothers are amazing. At least that’s what Hallmark says.

I’m always a bit conflicted around Mother’s Day. It’s not just the commercialism and sentimentalism and obvious manipulated emotionalism of the day in our culture–it’s also the fact that my own reality and the world of the people where I live and serve are so vastly different.

My mother is amazing.There’s no doubt about that. She’s the spitting image of  Hallmark propaganda–actually, thinking about it now makes me think she might have taken some kind of special training. Always kind and considerate, full of love, understanding and perseverance. Not too soft, not too hard. I mean, really, I’ve been extremely blessed.

On the other hand there are the people I serve and work with every day.They often have a different story: abandonment, neglect, abuse and almost every kind of unimaginable thing. Just a few weeks ago we had to call the police because a mother was prostituting her own daughter. It’s a sick world.

So, my conflict grows.

This must also be on God’s mind because He wrote an incredible verse in Isaiah 49:15 that explains this tension much better than I can. “Can a mother forget the child she has born?” The question is asked by a prophet as a rhetorical one, but it hangs in the air. What you want to do is respond with a big fat “No!” and you even want to believe it. But if we are honest, we know that the answer is “Yes”–tragically, through brokenness or sinfulness, a mother can forget the child she has born. But then the Scripture goes on: “ … even though she may forget–I will never forget you. I have engraved you on the palm of my hand.” God answers with the Truth.

This isn’t Hallmark, but it would make a great Mother’s Day card for a lot of people I know. Even though she may forget, I will never forget. The reality of the situation is that every person who is born, is not born by the will of a human alone. The willingness or goodness of the parent does not determine the value of the child. For GOD has planned and willed that people are born. His desire is to see life grow and prosper.

God is the ultimate Mother. We catch a glimpse of this through Jesus’ weeping over Jerusalem as he says out loud he longs to be like a mother hen who gathers her chicks into the nest (Matt. 23:37) … He longs for us like a mother. He has the ultimate Mother heart.

I first heard about this promise from Isaiah from my Dad. The most fascinating part about this tension in my life, is where my parents come from. They are both supposed to be statistics that reflect the world’s worst news. Both of them were discarded children–my Dad abandoned and my mother a casualty of addiction and violence; a ward of the court at ten years old. In adoption circles, she is a hard case–the kind people talk about with raised eyebrows … everyone knowing that the chances of her wholeness are almost nil because what life had dealt her.

But God intervened. Even though their mothers forgot, God didn’t. And this is true for everyone, everywhere. God will not forget–He cannot. The Bible tells us that He has knit us together in our mother’s womb … He has designed our lives before one day has come to be. This is incredible.

Catherine Booth (co-founder of The Salvation Army) used to tuck her kids into bed every night and tell them, “You were born to change the world.” And she was right. The psalmist says that the cry of an infant puts the enemy to flight–and he is right. Every yelp of life, every glimpse of hope, every small act of kindness and goodness in a dark world is evidence that God keeps his promises. Even though she may forget, I will never forget you. I have tattooed you on me. Forever.

Now take that, Hallmark.

_____________________________________

About Danielle
Danielle serves Jesus as the Corps Officer of Crossroads Community in Edmonton, Canada. Her passion is social justice, including establishing human trafficking response teams in local situations and giving leadership to the global team for the Stop The Traffik campaign. Danielle speaks and teaches around the world and has written several books: Just Imagine: the social justice agenda, Challenging Evil and The Liberating Truth: How Jesus Empowers Women. Danielle is married and has two sons.

You Are Capable of Greatness

“I know there is a Da Vinci in Rwanda and an Einstein in Mozambique waiting to burst free.”

By Desiree Adaway | Twitter: @desireeadaway
________________________________

“You are capable of greatness.”

I have heard my grandma say it a million times: God does not create junk. When I was a child, those words fill me with such warmth. Especially when I was feeling shame for having told a white lie or feeling vulnerable during my ugly teen age years when I found myself lacking in almost every way.

I would hear her voice: You are capable of greatness.

The truth is, we all are capable of greatness. There’s a power in you, in all of us that can do for us that which we cannot do for ourself. THAT spirit lives in you. It is in you but not of YOU.

You are great and you know it. YOU know it. God does not create junk. We act like we do not know, but we do know.

We are capable of greatness.

We KNOW that voice deep within us the one that some days we have a hard time connecting to or hearing clearly. The voice that has guided us so far through valleys of despair and mountain tops of triumph–and always will. We act like we do not know.

Today I want you to own that you do know. You have known all along.

Rest in the knowing and in the anointing of your power.

Think of how much talent has been wasted among women and oppressed people throughout history because social conditions made it impossible for some rise and shine–for some to hear that voice.

I know there is a Da Vinci in Rwanda and an Einstein in Mozambique waiting to burst free. What would our communities be like if we allowed everyone to rise and shine. If we allowed everyone to shine, be beautiful, noble and true.

If we owned the wisdom deep within us.

I wake up every day and ask myself how can I be the woman that God would have me be today?Something and Someone lives within me who is powerful beyond measure. How can I tap into that Source, that sanctuary so I can believe in MY greatness and live and act from that place. The power that was in Moses when he parted the Red Sea lives within you.

So, do not doubt your ability to liberate and free others; to liberate and free yourself.

You are capable of greatness. My granny and my God told me so.

________________________________

About Desiree:

Desiree is a consultant, strategist, coach, speaker, storyteller and explorer.  She uses her superpowers–her voice, sense of adventure and belief in the transformative power of community–to help organizations design programs that create unrestricted revenue, volunteers and advocates.

You can find out more about her at www.desireeadaway.com, or follow her on Twitter at @desireeadaway

Down We Go: Cultivating Creativity

It’s time to quit measuring creativity as talent and celebrate the act of creating, instead.

By Kathy Escobar | Twitter: @kathyescobar

“God is heaven and art.” — 5-year old girl at a Refuge art event

Everyone’s an artist.

God, the most brilliant creative artist of all time, put his image in us from the very beginning.

Creativity often gets buried beneath life, brokenness, circumstance and negative messages. Eventually, if we fail to cultivate it, we lose connection with it.

One purpose of the body of Christ is to help uncover God’s image in each other—to draw out the good, to call people to be who they are created to be, and to restore dignity, beauty, and purpose in others’ lives. 

On the downward path of Jesus, this becomes even more critical because of the amount of brokenness that’s present in people; a central part of our role in relationship with each other is to become dignity-restorers, people who call out God’s image in others.

I love that Jesus embodied dignity-restoration and empowers us to do the same.

As we become women who extend love mercy and compassion, welcome pain, honor doubt, diffuse power, practice equality, and pursue justice as Jesus-followers, others’ (and our own) dignity is restored.

There is also another beautiful and important way we can fan dignity into flame—through helping people draw out and express their natural creativity.

To create is to directly connect with the image of God within. 

The Sufi poet Rumi says, “Inside you is an artist you don’t know about.”

The creativity that is in each person is a natural reflection of God’s creative image inside of us. When it’s stifled, buried, stuck, or ignored, not only do we miss out, but the world misses out, too.

When we have a space for creativity to flourish, we become more and more complete. Through creative expression, we are participating in God’s ongoing work of redemption in this world.

Subtly or directly many have been taught, “We’re not artists,” or “We’re not that good at creative things.” This usually isn’t the original message we were taught as kids. For most of us, when we were younger, we probably didn’t think twice about creating, making, trying, risking and participating. Watching my kids is so inspiring because I see slivers of how free I used to be creatively.

Over time, though, many of us grew older and began to edit ourselves, hold back instead of participate, evaluate and critique ourselves instead of freely sharing. Slowly, many of us became closed to creativity.

We began to take ourselves too seriously.

We began to lose our freedom.

And we get a lot of messages that say creativity is only for “artists” (as in ones who are trained in it) and that we don’t have anything to offer.

Unfortunately, many church systems we’ve been part of have directly perpetuated this kind of closed-door policy to creativity because they’ve adopted a professional, “only the good ones get to play” mentality. Often, average musicians don’t get a chance. Pretty people are the ones who sing on stage. Art shows are reserved for the talented and screened for submissions.

We’ve forgotten that the beauty that’s in each other–whether it’s deemed good enough, or not, by a man-made measuring stick–needs a place to be nurtured, a forum in which to be revealed.

Part of the downward journey is becoming people who cultivate creativity—our own and also the creativity in others.

It seems like one of the most helpful ways we can begin to cultivate creativity is to quit measuring creativity as talent. We have all kinds of imaginary rules about what makes someone an artist and what doesn’t.

Here’s what I keep learning: We’re all artists. Every single human being on the planet. It just looks different for each of us. The way to call it out is to stop comparing ourselves or assume that only the best and the brightest can play.

Most of us default toward self-criticism. When challenged to do something that requires creativity, many of us tend to put a disclaimer on it—”This isn’t that good; I am not that good of an artist; mine is not nearly as good as his or hers.” You name it and we can find a way to self-deprecate! I tested this theory recently at a group experience facilitated by a friend. When she asked everyone to share their very simple pieces, the majority found ways to minimize, compare or somehow put down their work.

It’s so telling!

Shame, fear and lack of confidence invade so many our lives. It robs us of so much freedom.

The Kingdom of God is a place to break the bonds of shame, fear and lack of confidence. 

At The Refuge, our faith community, we try to cultivate a spirit of creativity in all kinds of little and big ways. We encourage people to try things they’ve wanted to try. We host open share creative nights where anyone can play. We call each other out of our creative comfort zones. Each and every time, I see the bonds of shame, fear, and low self-confidence break and God’s image reflected. Not only in others, but in me, too.

In the words of a five-year-old at one of our open share evenings, God really is heaven and art.

_____________________________

My dear SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• What are you learning about the healing power of creativity these days?
• How can you cultivate it in your own life and draw out God’s image in others, too?

About Kathy:

Kathy Escobar co-pastors The Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith. She blogs regularly about life and faith at www.kathyescobar.com and just released a new book called, Down We Go–Living out the Wild Ways of Jesus in Action. She lives in Arvada, Colorado with her husband, Jose, and five kids.

Image credit: bhollar

Reaching Through the Crowd for Holy: The Power of Tenacity

“Like a stranger in a crowd, she reached through life’s thick noise and laid finger on my skin, asking …”

By Idelette McVicker | Twitter: @idelette

vi. Reach: to move toward something in order to touch or grasp it

Girl gets on a bus and travels three days across the country to reach a place where she’s heard she may find Freedom.

Swiss girl ignores noise and naysayers, pushes through red tape and bureaucratic objections and gets on a plane for the country where she believes she’s meant to live.

Woman thinks doors have closed, but listens to the still, small voice in her heart and tries the one more thing. She pushes in, pushes through and the holy doors finally–finally!–swing open wide and welcome.

It would have been easy not to. Easy to give up. Easy to stop for a latte, instead. Not to push and reach and stretch and lean in to touch the skin of the Holy One.

The crowds were so thick.

It would have been fully understandable not to.

It would have been easy to stay right where she’s at.

But what would she have missed?

______________________________

My phone beeped with a Twitter text. Direct Message (Twitterspeak) on a Saturday night from a girl in another city who is both facebook and Twitter friend—enquiring if perhaps we could Skype sometime? Voice to voice. Heart to heart.

Like a stranger in a crowd, she reached through life’s thick noise and laid finger on my skin, asking for an hour of my attention.

I already had to postphone once, so this–her second ask–compels me to look at my calendar. The seven times 24-hours of the week brimming with the demands and joys of life.

Monday. Booking a birthday party for the seven-year-old. Buying invitation cards. Writing invitations. Driving kidlets to and from school. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Same Monday–pushing through the details of booking a three-city trip to Africa. Arrangements and travel plans and emails and phone calls.

Tuesday. Mom, far away, going in for surgery. Calling South Africa on the other side of our day to be “with,” somehow.

Wednesday. One meeting in the morning. Two meetings out in the evening.

Thursday. Hosting ten bookclub darlings at my home with papaya salsa and shiraz and connecting over written words.

All week: Spiritual mom fighting her own fight, a little closer.

And through this life-that-is-a whole-lotta-life, I also make dinner and school lunches and pour Rice Crispies into three blue porcelain bowls and squeeze in a hug for husband on his way to work.

But she asked. And there was something in the asking, the persisting—the reaching through the crowd—that crystallized into an appointment on my calendar.

Friday. 11am.

Speak to the Bones

When Friday morning came, my four-year-old had a playdate. The house fell quiet and I opened my pink Message–time feeling so much like the most delicious luxury–to a favourite passage in Ezekiel. The 37^th chapter.

“Breath of Life,” the heading. About dry bones: a picture of death, finality, impossibility. A story of God and prophet, standing side by side and the Divine directing the human to speak Life to the already-past-hope emptiness.

And as prophet spoke, the bones started to rattle and stretch and move and come together. Until prophet-man saw that the bones had no breath in them and he’s instructed this time: “Prophesy to the breath.”

I opened my exercise book with the blue cover. Black pen moved to curve out sentences of scripture … a quiet practice to calm the rush within and let Spirit speak. Copying, like ancient scribe. I slow down and watch my pen move, writing these holy words on such ordinary paper.

Then it’s time. We Skype and in I hear about a past threaded with both filling hunger and denying hunger.

Moments of decision I know so very well in my own bones: whether I would choose good for my body because I have a body worthy of good things. Or whether I would give in to the inner battle, that wanting to deny deny deny self.

I have heard those words shouting from within: You are not worthy of a good feeding. You are not worthy of the nutrition and the time and the effort of feeding your body of what is good.

I have fought that voice over many feedings—including hasty Mommy days when I would chop veggies for the kids, but would neglect to set a plate for me. Who has time to sit and eat when you’re serving and feeding hungry mouths?

We talked about Jairus’ daughter and she shared how different it was to sit with this story in a room of women who struggled with denying self of good food. And how Jesus specifically instructed those around the awakened daughter to feed her.

“ … he told them to give her something to eat.” –Mark 5:43

With the words from a holy hungry Friday post one week earlier still echoing powerfully in my spirit, I finally asked: May I pray for you?

Yes, please, she said.

We prayed and invocation streamed from lips and heart.

Speak to the Hunger, I heard.

And I thought about Jairus’ daughter and girls everywhere who need to rise up and eat, eat, eat and so I prayed more, all the while doing my best to listen from Above  …  Praying:

That she would eat from the goodness of God

and the feast of friendship

Eat eat eat

from the gift of community.

Eat from a table of purpose and know what she is to do in this world.

Eat from unconditional Love.

Eat, girl, from Value. Even swallow Worth whole, if you like.

Eat from Heaven and be nourished, satisfied, full …

Amen.

Talitha Koum

I dolloped it out in words as best I could from a heart so hungry for more girls to awaken and rise and eat and get well.

The words flowed strong and when I looked up, she was wiping tears.

What gift, I thought. For me as much as her. What gift that we could meet and she could find nourishment in these prayer words. What gift that I could find such inspiration in her faith–this woman-girl reaching through the crowd, asking for what she needed. 

That holy holy holy moment on a Friday morning reminded me:

- What power in this faith-stretched Asking for what we need.

- What power in sharing stories and bending hearts together before Heaven.

- What power, so readily available when we are willing to sink our teeth into the knowing-that-we-know and push through the crowd to find Holy right there at the end of our reach.

______________________________________

My dear SheLoves friends:

• I would love to hear a story of when your tenacity led to a Holy touch.
• What do you need or want to push through the crowd for in this season? Today?
• Who or what represents the crowd keeping you from where you want to go?
• O, so many days I need to eat from patience. Some days I need to eat from forgiveness. Today I need to eat from quiet confidence. What do you need to eat from today?
• Any other comments or thoughts?

_________________________________

About Idelette:
I like soggy cereal and I would like to go to every spot on the map of the earth to meet our world’s women.

I dream of a world where no women or girls are for sale. I dream of a world where women and men are partners in doing the work that brings down a new Heaven on earth.

My word for the year is “Roar,” but I have learned it’s not about my voice rising as much as it is about our collective voices rising in unison to bring down walls of injustice.

I have three children and this place–right here, called shelovesmagazine.com–is my fourth baby. I am African, although my skin colour doesn’t tell you that story. I am also a little bit Chinese, because my heart lives there amongst the tall skyscrapers of Taipei and the mountains of Chiufen. Give me sweet chai and I think I’m in heaven. I live in Vancouver, Canada and I pledged my heart to Scott 11 years ago.

I believe in kindness and calling out the song in each other’s hearts. I also believe that Love covers–my gaps, my mistakes and the distances between us. I blog at idelette.com and tweet@idelette.

Down We Go: Why Prepositions Matter

FROM THE ARCHIVES:

When it comes to serving Jesus in the trenches, there’s a huge difference between “to,” “for” and “with.”

By Kathy Escobar | Twitter: @kathyescobar
________________________________________________________________

Many people I know are tired of just talking about theology or participating in yet another Bible Study that increases knowledge but not practice. They are hopping off the “upwardly mobile” path that’s focused on bigger, better, and more successful and choosing instead the slow, scary path of descent–into the trenches, the margins of life and faith … the places where Jesus seemed to go.

But where do we start? What does it mean to live out the wild ways of Jesus in practice, not theory? To me, it means cultivating a life of extending love, mercy and compassion, welcoming pain, honoring doubt, diffusing power, practicing equality, pursuing justice, expressing creativity, and celebrating freedom. These eight core practices are explored deeply throughout Down We Go: Living Into the Wild Ways of Jesus.

But first, before diving in, we need to continually consider the importance of three prepositions that matter when it comes to a downwardly mobile life–the difference between “to”, “for” and “with.”

Power Shift

I was first exposed to this idea through my friends at the Center for Transforming Mission (www.ctmnet.org). They are dedicated to equipping grassroots leaders who are journeying with people in hard places around the world. Their work is built upon the premise that authentic transformational relationships cannot be built upon power or inequality. Even though many of us would nod and say “of course!” the reality is that many of the missional models we’ve been taught perpetuate a divide between “us” and “them” that is sometimes conscious, sometimes unconscious.

Considering these three prepositions has really shaken up so much of what I believe about living in the trenches with people.

• The Preposition “To” is Paternal and Creates Oppression

In most Christian and typical mission-oriented circles, the most prevalent preposition has become the word “to.”   The style of the preposition “to” is paternal. This idea is built on principles like:

“I have something I need to give to you.”

“I have wisdom I need to impart to you.”

“Here’s the advice, biblical truth or kernel of life-changing knowledge I have to give to you.” 

The problem with the preposition ”to” is that it begins with an “I’m up and you’re down” perspective of power that is patronizing and disempowering. Someone has more resources, knowledge and put-togetherness than the other.  This posture often ends up making the one on the receiving end feel like a project or even a loser.

• The Preposition “For” is Maternal and Creates Codependence

The preposition “for” is another easy reflex for most of us.  The style of the preposition “for” is maternal.  It’s when we want to do things for a hurting person.

“Let me makes these calls for you.”

“I don’t want you to hurt, so let me fix this part for you.”

“Your anxiety is giving me anxiety, so let me do what I can to take care of this anxiety for you.”

This is my reflex and the one I continually have to guard against in the work I do. The problem with this kind of approach to others is that it creates codependence. Helpers get sucked into helping and end in a one-up role where we need to take care of the person, make things happen for them, or remain in a position where we are always “serving.” It stays on those terms and remains a one-way relationship.

• The Preposition “With” is Incarnational and Creates Transformation

The preposition “with” changes everything. It means:

“I am with you in this moment, will stand alongside you, and am not walking ahead of you but alongside you.”

“I am in the same boat; I struggle, too, but my struggle may just look different.”

“I want to share life with you, not just take care of you or tell you what to do.”

“You have some things I need to learn from you, too. Let’s learn from each other.”

“With” removes imbalanced power from the relationship. It recognizes the fundamental dignity of the person and says, “I am here with you.”  It begins with listening for the deeper story that informs the suffering. It waits patiently for the person to ask for help, if needed, because sometimes people aren’t ready for help–sometimes people just need people to sit “with” as they work it out on their own.

Authentic

There is no question—”with” is scarier.  It means I let others know me instead of hiding behind doing good works at a protective distance. I make myself vulnerable and let others into my life, experience and heart, instead of just taking care of them to feel like I’m “helping.” Within the professional, clinical culture, as it is customarily taught, these kinds of “with” relationships may look like bad boundaries.

I understand how easy it is to stick with “to” and “for” modes of relationship. They protect us because they keep us in a place of power. They keep the focus off of us and on the other person. In the end, we don’t need “them;” they just need “us.” Even though that’s easier, I believe that “with each other” relationships create true transformation and are core to a life of downward mobility where there is no divide between “us and them.” 

_______________________________________________________

I’d love to hear your thoughts:

• What do you think about the difference between “to, for, and with” relationships?
• Which one is easiest for you to default toward?

_______________________________________________________

About Kathy:

Kathy Escobar co-pastors The Refuge, an eclectic faith community in North Denver dedicated to those on the margins of life and faith. She blogs regularly about life and faith at www.kathyescobar.com and just released a new book called, Down We Go–Living out the Wild Ways of Jesus in Action. She lives in Arvada, Colorado with her husband, Jose, and five kids.

Image credit: Chairs, by Peter Hellebrand

Swimming Lessons with Auntie Ashley. Or: When to Step Out of the Boat

Do I want to spend my life guarding towels or walking on water?

By Ashley Mandanici | Twitter: @ashleymandanici

___________________________

Life Confession: I cannot swim.

Do not get me wrong, I have tried! I have tried, and failed miserably. Seriously! Never have so many swimming teachers at the YMCA been so disappointed with a pupil than they have been with me. “Back when I was a kid” (which is how I’ll start this story when I later explain to my children why we can’t go to the pool), they used to break the swimming class levels into colours, yellow being the first level. I failed yellow three times.

I say all this to say: even though the thought of swimming makes me want to throw up in my mouth, I love being on a boat! Few friends believe this because they know how pathetic I am when faced with even the possibility of having to swim. However, the truth remains: being on a boat is awesome.

I have compiled my own list of reasons why I prefer being on a boat, rather than actually swimming in the water:

-       Sitting on a boat requires no skill level or effort.

-       For me, the likeliness of drowning gets cut at least in half.

-       You can feel like you’re “experiencing” the sea without taking in the reality of it.

-       I have yet to hear about a person getting attacked by a shark while on a boat.

-       I do not have to wear my bathing suit, but am instead encouraged to wear a large vest that makes even the skinniest people look chunky.

These reasonings only work assuming I do not get myself into some sort of “Titanic” situation. In which case, I would succumb to the power of the seas, and wait for Jesus.

I regret to inform you that the number of friends I have who swim, outweighs the number of friends I have with a boat. This often means that as soon as the sun comes out, I resort to sitting on the sidelines during many social events. I have paid many an admission fee to water parks where I spent the day reading and guarding everyone’s towels.

“You were there?”

The other day I was remembering back on one of these adventures with a friend when she responded, “You were there?”

Um, yeah I was, friend. Don’t you remember coming back to your towel and your purse perfectly intact? Yeah, that was all me.

Apparently my involvement in our adventures has not been as memorable as I imagined it to be. This means one of two things: I need to learn how to swim, or I need to start acquiring friends with memberships to yacht clubs.

Shark-free and story-less

Apart from my literal need to “get out of the boat” and learn how to swim, there are many areas in life I need to take the leap off my comfortable, shark-free boat and start flailing around in the uncharted waters of Risk! I do not love the idea. What if I sink to my death? What if I look ridiculous (like a dog with two legs that can only swim in a circle)? What if I look chubby in my water wings?

I started thinking about the story of Peter walking on water with Jesus. You know the one—where Peter walked on the water with Jesus? (I know. I have a gift of making the Bible come alive!) I have read this passage of scripture many times, but this last time I had one looming question at the end of the story—what about the other guys in the boat?

I wonder if they were choked they did not even try to walk on water. I wonder if they knew that at the end of the day their part of the story would be as interesting as me guarding towels at the water park.

Sure Peter could have drowned, or been eaten by a large whale (it has happened) but he got his part in the story—an honorable mention at the very least.

Abandoning Ship

Matthew 14:28 “Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

In a little under four months, I am embarking on a rather exciting/frightening adventure—I am going to Uganda for five months to serve at Watoto Childcare Ministry. I am abandoning all of my ships—the financial security of my job, the safety of my country, the comfort of my familiar friends—and I am jumping into the water. I am kind of over being the girl on the sidelines holding everyone’s towels. I am going to show up … and people are going to remember I was there!

I cannot give you a timeline on the swimming thing yet. Hey Tina Francis, what do you say to taking up water ballet with me? You’ll learn how to dance, I’ll learn how to swim—two birds, one stone.

_________________________

So, my SheLoves friends, I’d love to hear:

• What are some of the ships you need to abandon?
• Are you finding yourself on the sidelines or in the center of the action?
•  What is one skill you don’t have that you wish you did?

About Ashley:

My name is Ashley and I am the Children’s Ministry Coordinator at Relate Church in Surrey, B.C. My mission is to develop the God-given potential in every child who crosses my path *Insert Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” here*. I love all things jazzy, particularly music, and I tend to break into song throughout the day for no apparent reason. I blog here and tweet @AshleyMandanici

Loving Myself, An Introvert

“I’ve always thought you had to be loud to make a difference and aggressive to succeed.”

By Stephanie Motz Skinner | Twitter: @stephmotz

Photograph by Fakeleft for ©Watoto.

After about two weeks in journalism school, I was sure I’d made the worst mistake of my life. For some reason, when I imagined myself as a journalist, I thought I’d be working solo, wouldn’t need to interact with many people and stories would magically fall into my lap. I didn’t think of group projects, interviews or stopping strangers on the street.”

As I observed the other students, I picked out the ones I thought would become the successful journalists. They were similar in character to many of our professors: outgoing, gregarious, ambitious and even aggressive. It all felt very different from me.

Hi, my name is Stephanie and I’m an introvert.

Often times, a few short hours of mingling and small talk with a large group of people can feel like a whole day. I enjoy meeting others, but it does require a lot of me and can sometimes seem exhausting. I’m soft spoken, and it’s not unusual for me to remain silent during a debate at the dinner table. It may appear as if I’m bored or indifferent, but I’m actually absorbing and processing everything inside my mind. Then it’s not unusual for me to give my opinion a day later–often to the only one who will listen a day later–my husband.

I’m better at making few but long-lasting and loyal friendships, than having a wide circle of acquaintances. I’m out of my comfort zone in large groups. At parties where I don’t know anybody, I feel the urge to hide in the coat closet.

Over time I drilled this idea into my head that if I do not change my personality and adapt to the way the world really works, I wouldn’t ever see my dreams come true. That scared me. So, I felt a certain need to reject these intrinsic qualities that define me.

My Myths

- I’ve always been convinced–deep inside of me–that because of the limitations of my personality, I’d never achieve as much as I might like to.

- I noticed that those who were more assertive, self-assured, outspoken and outgoing were often also the most celebrated.

- And I’ve always thought you had to be loud to make a difference and aggressive to succeed. I guess it’s only natural then that, because of my personality, I convinced myself that my voice is unnecessary.

In trying to conform to other people’s standards, I denied my true nature. It seems that as I try to run my race at the pace and rhythm of others, I’m thrusting aside my authentic and unedited voice, and the strengths and qualities that make me unique.

“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” – Gandhi

Recently, however, I’ve been learning to accept my quiet introversion as an essential part of my identity, and I’m starting to be okay with it. I was encouraged by Susan Cain’s TED talk about the power of introverts, and in Love is the Killer App, Tim Sanders writes about a more compassionate approach to business. At times when I compare myself to others–especially extroverts–I wonder if I can ever be good enough. For me, these writers are opening a conversation that says emphatically, “Yes, you can.” And when I ask, How? the answer seems to be, “By being who you really are.”

I believe that God created each one of us with specific and special personalities for a reason. We all have different experiences and see the world through our own unique lenses. We each have something valuable, something necessary to contribute to life. Maybe, in accepting our personalities as gifts from God, we can begin to come to a better understanding of what it means to live with purpose. By combining His character with the unique perspectives He has given to each of us, perhaps we can live out a life that brings value to our communities.

Ultimately, this reminds me that our individual voices do matter.

For my part, I’m beginning to love the idea of embracing my true and raw voice, and as Susan Cain expresses, “of having the courage to speak softly.”

_______________________________________________

About Stephanie:
I believe in the power of storytelling. I’m a photographer and writer for Fakeleft. Together with my husband, we love sharing stories of courage, of strength in the face of adversity, of triumph and hope. I truly believe that by partnering with others who want to bring change and justice to our world, we can actually make a difference.  I’m learning to walk in my nascent faith, but it’s not always easy. It’s an interesting journey.

I am currently living in Uganda, but my heart is everywhere. I’m a proud Latina from Choluteca, Honduras. I wish I had a Latino accent. My favourite meal is dessert and my favourite sport is tanning. I blog at fakeleft.com/blog and tweet at @stephmotz

What I Learned from Fasting the Internet for 31 Days

SEEKING EVE MONDAY

Sometimes seeking + finding requires stepping out of the game.

By Christina Crook

___________________________

We are little gods on the internet.

Crafting and controlling our image on the world wide web. My sister and I joke that we should start a site called realmom.com where we do weekly photo challenges like: “Go take a picture of your toilet seat. RIGHT NOW.”

It wouldn’t be pretty.

And much of life isn’t. But it is real.

And, like our friend Pam Hogeweide recently reminded us, as followers of Jesus, we should be the most human humans of all.

In an attempt to put things in perspective I felt prompted to take myself out of the online game.

For 31 days I fasted the interwebs in all its forms. No google mapping. No email. No blogging, online news or Facebook. Each day I type-wrote a letter to my friend, Marisa, chronicling the journey.

I was seeking to …

• enliven my real relationships and filter out the extra
• open my ears to God’s voice and my eyes wide to the world around me, while the hum of my online life fell quiet
• remove my go-to time-fillers: contextless information via newsfeeds, Facebook and Google Reader
• challenge me to engage with new ideas, books, conversations, I’d tend to miss otherwise

Here’s what I learned in 31 days off-line:

There is something about the immediacy, the therapeutic clickity-clack of the typewriter that allows for a different kind of writing. The kind that spills from the heart rather than the head. The kind that’s intended for a single, known reader than a large, unknown audience.

Stepping off-line for 31 days got my hands moving, disciplined me to write every single day with or without a four-month-old and a two-year-old clambering about my knees. It was a luxury I could afford, being home with the kids and not bound to online work through an out-of-house job. But it was a sacrifice.

I had to say goodbye to my online comforts.

It made me feel small. It showed me I am small.

It taught me how to trust, that the world keeps on turning without my words, without my likes and dislikes.

It revealed the beauty of unplanned moments, reminding me that chance encounters beat out an online connection any day.

I learned that the smartphone check-ins I make multiple times a day are not actual time-savers but time-suckers. That if I, as a mama-of-two, want to engage with new ideas, read books, study, create — then I have to save up all of those two-minute, one-minute, ten-minute windows and bank them for things I really want to do. Like write poetry. Phone my Grandma. Skype my sister. Read The New Yorker.

I remembered that my children are watching and practicing every move I make. Word and deed. For better or worse.

I discovered the peace, the quietness of mind, I had been hungering for.

And I learned that snail mail gets people’s attention.

______________