Governor Palin, Put Away Falsehood

As Americans and people of faith from around the country, we were extremely disappointed in Sarah Palin's divisive, sarcastic, and often deceptive address last night at the Republican National Convention. We call on her not only as a political figure, but also as a prominent Christian, to recommit herself to campaigning in good faith, with a strong commitment to truth-telling.

As Christians, we are called to be respectful and loving toward our neighbors, honoring their intentions even if we disagree with their plans. We are also called to "put away falsehood" (Eph 4:25) and to refrain from slandering, belittling, or speaking out of contempt for anyone.

If these are the standards God has set for us in our personal lives, our church communities, and our neighborhoods, how much more so should they be the standards of those Christians who choose to be in the public eye? Shouldn't we also expect our brothers and sisters in politics to speak the truth in love and to extend respect and goodwill even to those with whom they disagree?

Sarah Palin has shaped much of her life around her Christian faith [1]. Indeed, it has been continually suggested that one of the major reasons John McCain chose Palin as his running-mate was her Christian faith and her ability to energize evangelical Christian voters. Thus, it is no stretch to say that Palin has suddenly become one of the most visible faces of Christianity in today’s political scene.

As such, we believe she has a calling even higher than her responsibility to her party's victory in November - a calling to represent Jesus to the rest of the world. This is why her speech at the Republican National Convention last night was so disappointing to us at the Matthew 25 Network.

In questioning not only Senator Obama’s policies but also his motivations, and mocking his career, Palin went far beyond what could be considered acceptable disagreement and into what seemed like open contempt for a political opponent.

To be blunt, we saw very little of Jesus’ love in Sarah Palin's speech last night, as she heaped contempt on those who disagree with her politically, while offering no vision for how to resolve the critical issues facing Americans today like job loss, health care, growing child poverty rates and the war in Iraq.

Moreover, as has been documented by major media sources including the Associated Press [2], Palin spoke falsehoods not only about her own record, but about Barack Obama's record as a State Senator and as a U.S. Senator. As Christians, we are called throughout Scripture to speak the whole truth, to put away falsehood, to bear true witness even when it hurts our own interests. The name of Jesus should never be associated with falsehoods or deception, but last night, in Sarah Palin’s speech, we believe it was.

Therefore, we in the Matthew 25 Network call on Gov. Palin to repudiate her attitude of contempt towards her political opponents and to tell the whole truth, not only for the sake of a more honorable politics, but also for the sake of our Christian witness in the world.

Senator McCain is no less responsible because he selected Gov. Palin and praised her speech, and he claims to be a Christian as well. It is ill-fitting to use Christian identity and language for one's political advantage without seeking to live up to that high calling. Ultimately, as the Presidential candidate, Governor Palin's tone and infidelity to truth reflect negatively on Senator McCain as well.

Brian McLaren
Author and Pastor

Douglas W. Kmiec
Caruso Family Chair & Professor of Constitutional Law
Pepperdine University School of Law

Rev. Dr. Susan B. Thistlethwaite
Professor of Theology, Chicago Theological Seminary

Vince Miller
Georgetown University

Peter Vander Meulen
Coordinator, Office of Social Justice, Christian Reformed Church

Rev. Dr. Derrick Harkins
Nineteenth Street Baptist Church

Bart Campolo
Urban minister, Founder of Mission Year

Sharon Daly
Former Vice-President of Catholic Charities

Rev. Wilfredo De Jesus
Vice-President for Social Justice, National Hispanic Christian Leadership Conference

Delores Leckey
Senior Fellow, Woodstock Theological Center
Former Director of the Secretariat for Family, Laity, Women and Youth
United States Conference of Catholic Bishops

Add your name here...

Thank you Community Organizers!

Joe Klein: What a Community Organizer Does

Flotsam

My dear friend Deb highlighted a new-to-me blog on her blog today and this quote was enough to add yet another blog to my bloglines - it's heartbreaking to read of her loss and joyous to read of her new baby daughter - and this just says it all:

I may be A Woman With A Troubled Past, but I don’t act the part. I think sometimes we try too hard to fit our lives into the shapes of the stories we know. I doubt we’ll ever really stop doing that, so I believe the best we can do is to make sure there are as many stories out there as possible.

Go read more: Flotsam: Coda.

As far as I get

Back from a wonderful camping trip on the Maine coast with friend. This was the story I found in my inbox this morning and it fit perfectly today:

Thinking the sea is good for not thinking & for some reason,
this is as far as he gets

via Story People

The Secret Life of Bees

Great Losers

I have a confession. I am a scavenger.

I just can't seem to walk past a smidgen of interesting brokenness or discarded story. I am so moved by outsider and found art because deep in my heart I long to be a mosaic artist. I have not yet begun to piece together those precious bits and fragments pocketed along my journey.

As Keith and I were walking to church Sunday he bent to pick up a bright piece of turquoise "glass" at the curb. I exclaimed "Don't! It's not glass, it's a discarded cough drop! I only know because I picked it up yesterday and it was sticky..."

Redemption resides deeply in both of us.

We spend hours at the shore with our noses down hoping to find precious bits of pottery or beach glass worn smooth by sand and waves. All the diamonds in the world don't mean as much to me as a tiny little shard of blue and white pottery or a heart shaped rock found by a loved one.

That is why this quote touched me so deeply. I long to be the kind of friend who gathers great treasure and wisdom by carefully listening and fixing those pieces in my heart.

Fragments scavenged from Bob at The Corner:

Every hour’s talk we have with a friend leaves fragments that we ought to gather up and keep to feed our heart’s hunger or the hunger of others’ hearts, as we go on. When we hear good words spoken or read a good book, we should gather up the fragments of knowledge, the suggestions of helpful thoughts, the broken pieces, and fix them in our hearts for use in our lives. We allow large values of the good things we hear or read to turn to waste continually because we are poor listeners or do not try to keep what we hear. We let the broken pieces be lost and thereby are great losers. If only we would gather up and keep all the good things that come to us through conversations and through reading, we would soon have great treasures of knowledge and wisdom.

J.R. Russell, The Book of Comfort

Families

Join Matthew 25 here

Long, happy dawdling

I LOVE this:

The imagination needs moodling--long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering. These people who are always briskly doing something and as busy as waltzing mice, they have little, sharp, staccato ideas, such as: "I see where I can make an annual cut of $3.47 in my meat budget." But they have no slow, big ideas. And the fewer consoling, noble, shining, free, jovial, magnanimous ideas that come, the more nervously and desperately they rush and run from office to office and up and down stairs, thinking by action at last to make life have some warmth and meaning.

If You Want to Write, Brenda Ueland

via

Tragedy in Afganistan

Four aid workers were killed today in an ambush in Afghanistan, they were IRC staff members, 2 were Canadians.

Please pray for peace and for their families, and the foundations they serve.

International Rescue Committee Releases Names of Victims of Ambush in Afghanistan

Tell better stories

“Neither revolution nor reformation can ultimately change a society, rather you must tell it a new powerful tale, one so persuasive that it sweeps away the old myths and becomes the preferred story, one so inclusive that it gathers all the bits of our past and our present into a coherent whole, one that even shines some light into the future so that we can take the next step forward.”

Ivan Illich (Quoted in Just:Imagine by Danielle Strickland and her co-author Campbell Roberts)

thanks mike

Peace for all

Woe to us indeed if we forget the homeless ones who have no vote, no power, nobody to lobby for them, and who might as well have no faces even, the way we try to avoid the troubling sight of them in the streets of the cities where they roam like stray cats. And as we listen each night to the news of what happened in our lives that day, woe to us if we forget our own homelessness.

To be homeless the way people like you and me are apt to be homeless is to have homes all over the place but not to be really at home in any of them. To be really at home is to be really at peace, and our lives are so intricately interwoven that there can be no real peace for any of us until there is peace for all of us.

Source: Frederick Buechner - The Longing for Home

via

Guantanamo Bay

Esquire has 2 short articles on what it feels like to be at Guantanamo Bay - important read:

Esquire: What it feels like... to be a prisoner at Guantanamo Bay
Esquire: What it feels like... to be a guard at Guantanamo Bay

Major League

Insurance Company Rules

Keith's math

Keith was doing some math the other day and I encouraged him to write it down (and even blog about it) so that others might benefit from the calculations of living on the margins. You can read it here:

2 miles in their shoes

Leaving on a jet plane...

This trip feels like God was our travel agent. It's a gift to be going to Oregon to be reuniting with my family. I am so excited. We are spending a couple of days in Portland, a week with my aunt near the California border and 5 days on the coast. I can't wait. Don't know if I'll have access to the internet while away, so I might not be back until the 20th. Be good to yourself today.

$8.00 hot dog

blame erin

You are someone's favorite unfolding story

Sarah Louise highlighted Ann Patchett's commencement address at Sarah Lawrence this year and it was just what I needed to hear.

The answer to the question What now is never what you think it's going to be, and that is the thing that every writer has to learn. I came to understand that fiction writing was like duck hunting. You go to the right place at the right time with the right dog. You get into the water before dark, wearing a little protective gear, stand behind some reeds and wait for the story to present itself. This is not to say you are passive. You choose the place and the day. You pick the gun and the dog. You have the desire to blow the duck apart for reasons that are entirely your own. But you have to be willing to accept not what you wanted to happen, but what happens. You have to write the story you find in the circumstances you've created, because more often than not the ducks don't show up. The hunters in the next blind begin to argue and you realize they're in love. You see a snake swimming in your direction. Your dog begins to shiver and whine and you start to think about this gun that belonged to your father. By the time you get out of the marsh you will have written a novel that is so devoid of ducks it will shock you. It took me a long time of standing still and being quiet to figure out what in retrospect appears to be a pretty simple lesson: writing a novel and living a life are very much the same thing. The secret is finding the balance between going out to get what you want and being open to the thing that actually comes your way."

Listen here: Ann Patchett Sarah Lawrence Commencement Speech 2008

Google Photo Meme

I just got this meme from renee and thought it sounded fun:

The questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you attend?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. Favorite drink?
7. Dream vacation?
8. Favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you.
12. Your Flickr name.

Photo Credits:

Heidi
Lobster
Badger High School
Cobalt Blue
Jason Bateman
Black Coffee
India
Sugar Free Raspberry Pie
Mosaic Artist
The Turners (my family)
Passionate
HeidiRenee

Be jealous!

Erin's coming to visit today!! Yippee!!

Donald Miller - part 2

Just got Donald Miller's newsletter and it has a link to a free mp3 - YOU MUST HEAR THIS!

Oh, please, take the time to listen to this: Let Story Guide You

This is why I love blogs

Where else in the world can you keep up with people like Donald Miller (Blue Like Jazz) as he rides his bike across America raising money and awareness for Blood:Water Mission who dig wells in Africa giving people access to clean water.

He writes here about getting caught in a huge hail storm and finding shelter in the back of a car driven by two men who spoke no English.

It's like reading a book in tiny little installments - really, the best of the internet right at our fingertips.

DONATE HERE and receive the first chapter of Donald Miller's new book A Million Miles in 1000 Years

Thank you Scot!

Jesus Creed - Dobson on Obama

Non-partisan tax information

The stakes are too high

This video was the first political commercial ever used in the history of politics in North America. It is poignant and only ran once. Somehow we have lost our way.

Brilliant article on this here:

Steve Cone: The Big Bang of Attack Ads

The spot starts with a little girl picking daisies in a meadow and counting aloud as she plucks each petal. She mixes up her numbers, which brilliantly reinforces the innocence of a small child. Then a man's voice is heard counting down from ten. It's official sounding -- like something right out of the Pentagon War Room. As the countdown proceeds the camera zooms in on the little girl's face, and then her eye and finally from her eye the image of an atomic blast appears and fills the screen. Next you heard President Johnson quote several lines taken form a W.H. Auden poem about how "we must love each other or surely we will die." And finally a professional voice over announces to vote for President Johnson on November 3rd. "The stakes are too high to do anything else."

It is there for each and every one of us

May today there be peace within.

May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.

May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.

May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.

May you be confident knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love.

It is there for each and every one of us.

Saint Theresa's Prayer

thanks Suzi!

Funds for Iowans Trying to Rebuild

My favorite daily story comes from The Story People - located in Iowa (why didn't I know people this cool during my three years in Iowa??) I just got today's blog post saying they are wet, but okay. They are located in Decatur, and have had some weather trouble, but nothing like what the cities to the south are facing. This was the poster they offered post-Katrina and they are reissuing it to help their local friends in Iowa rebuild. It reads:

the water washed away everything
but the chance to begin again

so we came from cities & towns,
from long golden fields
& we stood side by side
until we made a bridge to dry land,

back to a place
we have promised to hold safe
for each other's children,

back to a place
called America

by Brian Andreas

Posters are $20.00 and all proceeds go to help the flood victims - purchase here:

The Story People

Remember the mix tape?

Fabulous new idea for the old 80's declaration of love - the mix tape! Thumb drive with a retro gift case - brilliant!!

via

I Dare You

via bob

Erin will you help me make these?!?!?!?!?

These are the COOLEST - only available in France, and I'm sure even if they were here I couldn't afford them - and I want them! Our flat is filled with these rocks in real life - how cool to have them supersized and comfy - Livingstones - brilliant!

JK Rowling's Harvard Commencement Speech

Julie Unplugged blogged JK Rowling's speech to the graduation class of Harvard this year - you can read or watch it here - well worth it:

The Fringe Benefits of Failure and The Importance of Imagination

Best.Pop.Ever.

If you don't have access to President's Choice products, I'm sorry. This is truly the best summer drink ever.

Just good reactions, really...

OnePlusYou Quizzes and Widgets.

thanks Dharma

I Love to Tell the Story

What a wonderful experience Sunday was for me. Other than being sick and hyper from the cold medicine I took I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The picture is of my new storyteller statue that I got for Mother's Day. I used it for the background of the power point slides.

Here's the link to the talk, I'd love any feedback if you do listen to it:

I Love to Tell the Story

60 hours left - please sign!

This just in from Avaaz.org:

The world food crisis is skyrocketing – steadily rising prices are squeezing billions and triggering food riots from Bangladesh to South Africa. Aid agencies say 100 million people are facing starvation.

In response, the United Nations is convening an emergency summit of world leaders in Rome this week. There is a real danger that rich country leaders will push half measures and band-aid solutions – we need a huge global outcry to demand rapid, massive, coordinated action.

The head of the UN, Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon, will receive our petition at the summit at 9:30AM on Wednesday morning. This is a huge opportunity for our voice to reach our leaders directly, but we need half a million voices in the next 60 hours. Click below to sign the petition if you haven't yet, and forward this email to everyone you know:

Sign the petition here

Already over 200,000 Avaaz members have joined our call for emergency food aid and deeper solutions such as investing in food production in poor countries and fixing harmful rich country policies such as burning food as biofuels. Our campaign was launched in response to a personal video appeal to our community from the foreign minister of Sierra Leone, where 90% of the population are facing severe hunger. Click above to watch the video.

The food crisis, like the climate crisis, is a planetary emergency. It's another sign of how interdependent and fragile our world is. And how we all need to work together, across all our borders and divisions, to save it.

Sign the petition here

Yes.... you can!

Thanks Melvin!

Ending the Silence

Growing up in the Plymouth Brethren silence echoed through my life. As a woman I was to be silent with my head covered. This I could and did endure. I thought it made God happy and I lived most of my childhood in confused silence spiritually.

The other enforced silence that few acknowledge is the silence of God. God's written word is THE ONLY way God speaks/spoke to His followers and any supernatural interaction is strictly exposed to be that of self-seekers and people who's faith just wasn't strong enough to "get in the Word". This was the silence that stalked me. This was the silence that confused.

Because you see, if you place a child in silence long enough God meets them there. In those hours of enforced quiet in church, three times a week I learned silence - but God somehow didn't know the rules. Far too often He kept me company, a willing companion alongside my dumbness.

I quickly learned in my teen years that this was not acceptable and spent most of the rest of my adult life in fear of mental illness for "hearing voices" or swallowed in the shame of self importance - who did I think I was that I was so special that God would speak to me? I quickly learned that those silent times needed to be filled with fantasy and day dreaming to keep my mind from sinning and hearing God.

Silence can be golden, but this silence was the shiny, stainless-steel of a bullet that lodged itself in my soul.

The tight fist of control this sect enforced had squeezed the life out of me, it had convinced me that I was completely broken. Born into the wrong body, given the wrong gifts and suffering under the delusion that I was either crazy or so puffed up that God would love me just like He did Moses or Peter - enough to show himself to them, and me. My shame was magnificent and as shiny as that silver bullet of enforced silence.

After we were kicked to the curb in our at the end of our first paid ministry at a Brethren church we were free, we didn't know it yet, but the violence of that encounter would have been the only thing that would have severed our commitment and devotion to that small sect of faithful believers. We loved them. They were our life. They are not mean, evil people, just sincere fellows laboring under a very heavy load of really ugly theology. It is a mean God they serve, and we loved him too, but we were now free we began to explore the big, wide world of the church.

We had spent our whole lives judging other Christians and faith systems. We truly believed WE were the only ones with THE TRUTH and the others were just playing games with their faith and God.

What a wide world exists on the other side of that door. We had no idea how vast and varied the kingdom of God truly was. I am unable to say that every experience we had was grand and glorious. We were still us and that boat we sailed just couldn't seem to stop rocking. We made many friends and found much grace and eventually floated that boat to the shore of a community of true folk. Honest people who don't take themselves so seriously, but do take God seriously. They are all such individuals - no homogenization here.

We had spent our lives trying to look like those around us, chipping away and folding ourselves up - but to no avail, we were horrible at being anything but ourselves. Here we found characters, I guess it's the ocean air - but as we saw each individual honored for their uniqueness and loved for their quirks we realized that we were home. Finally home.

Here we can be us. I can be me. I am so very different than anyone that I have ever met. I have found many kindred souls along the way - but there was just too much Heidi to "knock off" to fit into the cookie cutter. And here I am loved. Truly loved. Quirks and all. I am amazed and honored to be a part of this small group of people who think really B.I.G. thoughts.

This Sunday I will be preaching. It's not the first time, but somehow it feels like it because they know me now. They've lived life with me and they still asked me to teach. You see, I am a teacher. Silence inflicted on those of us who are teachers is brutal. Long ago I was told that if a man learned something from me, as a women, it meant that I was usurping creation order, not that I was a good teacher.

This Sunday I will be given the honor of standing in front of a room of the most unique people - and telling my story. Talking about story and using what God has gifted me with to play my part in this body of believers.

I opened my email this morning to this quote from Margaret Wheatley - it's where I got the blog title from. I didn't awaken with any intention of writing this post - but when I read these words I realized that I was truly beginning this process publicly, in my community face to face, and so following with my virtual community seemed fitting too.

Silence is a beautiful thing, I now embrace it fully as a time to meet with God. I now know that when he speaks to me that I am not crazy, it is a gift and I honor it as such. And I also know that breaking the silence by using the other gift He's given me is just as important.

A gesture of love is anything we do that helps others discover their humanity. Any act where we turn to one another. Open our hearts. Extend ourselves. Listen. Any time we're patient. Curious. Quiet. Engaged.... Conversation does this---it requires that we extend ourselves, that we open our minds and hearts a bit more, that we turn to someone, curious about how they live their life.

Speaking to each other involves risk. It's often difficult to extend ourselves, to let down our guard, especially with those we fear or avoid. When we're willing to overcome our fear and speak to them, that is a gesture of love. Strangely, what we say is not that important. We have ended the silence that keeps us apart.

Ending the silence out of love is right and good. When it divides and keeps us apart silence is anything but golden.

Weezer - Pork & Beans

Weezer takes all of the favorite Youtube.com videos and mashes them up into his newest video Pork & Beans - brilliant and seamless and wonderful how he interacts with each character keeping them true to their own personality - so creative!



thanks NW!

Save or Savor?

If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy.
If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem.
But I arise in the morning torn between
a desire to improve (or save) the world and
a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world.
This makes it hard to plan the day.

E.B. White

via Inward/Outward

Finding my school

Thanks Bob!

Nothing but the truth

One of my favorite parts of Facebook is reconnecting with people from our past. Because Keith and I have moved so much each, stop on our way has felt like a "past life" of sorts. I know that each time we move we change, and morph and grow - so many times we look very little like the people that we used to be.

Reconnecting with friends from college has been fun, but at times it is also difficult. We went to a very conservative, Plymouth Brethren Bible college - and one of the hardest parts about that is that there have been some who have written us off as heretics because we're no longer a part of "the fold". It's incredible though to me because back then my relationship with God was so one-dimensional and mostly just show - now that we've been written off my relationship with God is real, 3-d and dynamic.

Another difficulty happens because many times we don't bridge the conversation with others because of our own fear of rejection. We'll never know that they might be a lot closer to us in their own journey than we imagine them to be - but because of the fundamental "in and out", "black and white"-ness of that denomination it can make conversations awkward.

One of our friends has crossed the divide with enough friendship and courage to ask some questions though and that means so much to me. I have been trying to articulate some real answers, but because they are so foundational putting answers into words isn't as easy as I'd like it to be. I'd much prefer to sit over a cup of coffee and interact with a face, eyes and another's story than to place something in black and white here on my blog. But this is the medium of the day and Texas is just too far away right now, so this will have to do.

He saw my quotes on my Facebook profile and my sidebar here on my blog and asked me some deep questions about truth and what it means to be a "storyteller of redemptive truth". I think if I could/can articulate this I'd be a happy woman - so taking a first pass at this might help me in this reconstructing process.

Here is the quote he asked about:

"You should always follow the one who seeks truth
and run away from the one who has found it".

Andre Gide

I have NO idea who Andre Gide is, and I could look him up - but that would defeat the process of me actually putting my thoughts down, so I will save that for a later date.

This quote articulated for me my much of my deconstruction process. I didn't kick things all apart so that everything would be destroyed. I deconstructed my beliefs and theology because I realized that the very FOUNDATION of what I was taught had fatal flaws and if I didn't get to the roots the regrowth would always have tainted leaves.

This quote gave words to the idea that I have bristled against for so long. I left bible college with a Bachelor of Science degree in Biblical Studies - I spent four years of my life learning everything I could about God, the Bible and theology and left convinced that I had all of the answers, surety and knowledge that would help me face every problem, answer every question and root me into a life of growth that would draw others to it. What actually happened though was the exact opposite.

A decade of trials, loss, depression, addictions, infertility and closed doors that devastated us and left us without community, deep scars from churches who believed these same things, and more questions than we ever had.

Why were the "fields ripe for harvest" and we weren't in ministry? Why were the teenagers we were volunteering with getting pregnant and we were unfit to bear children? Why do people learn when I teach but because I'm a woman I'm unfit? Why is God silent? Why did God ordain all of this mess? Why didn't God stop the violence that happened to me as a child? Why do I have all of this knowledge and so little wisdom? Why is this all in my head and not in my heart? Why, why, why, why?

I began to suspect that the things that I had been told all of my life were "THE TRUTH" might not be the "whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so HELP ME GOD!"

The thing about hitting bottom is that it strips away everything. All I knew is that Jesus said that I could know the truth, and that it would set me free. So the first stone I kept for my new foundation was freedom. Not a wanton "I can do anything I want" carte blanch, but the inner freedom where I actually had solid ground beneath my feet to stand on.

The only way I can articulate what that quote means to me is with story. I have asked God for an image or metaphor to explain what this means to me because my words are so inadequate. So far this is what's come to me.

For me truth is like water - catching it is nearly impossible - the best water, the most life giving water flows free. What so many of the modern theologians and teachers try to do is FREEZE the water into little cubes that can be studied, kept in a safe place and carried out at times as if to say "HERE IS THE TRUTH", see, we found it, it's right here, we can see it, touch it, taste it, KNOW IT because right here we have THE TRUTH.

Those little ice cubes leave me cold. They no more represented the ocean than saying the word "blue" tells you what color the sky is after a storm. I began to realize that the fluidity that truth is, the kind that sets me free cannot be found in those little ice cubes - parts of it might be there, but so much is lost in the specimen. Truth, I found, is to be experienced on the great, grand scale like the Bay of Fundy, not in the little trays I keep in my freezer.

So in keeping with my metaphor I would translate the quote like this:

"You should always follow those who can take you to where the living water runs
and run away from those who trap it in their kitchens."

Heidi Turner :)

My favorite author, Parker Palmer, uses a phrase in "A Hidden Wholeness" that I like, he says "Tell the truth, but tell it slant" He doesn't mean anything shifty by that - what he is talking about is using stories to articulate the truth. Metaphor and images can many times express a thought far more rich and true than our feeble words are able.

This is why Jesus told stories. They're portable. Each hearer throughout the centuries has heard them told again and again - and they are alive and rich and full of life giving water. The first time I hear it I take away something rich and life giving. The next time I am blessed by something fresh and new - each time the story is alive and breathing, not frozen like a specimen in a lab. It's like speaking in italics - making room for the spirit to breathe life into the words.

That is why I run from those who claim they have it all right, figured out and encapsulated for my easy consumption. Those ice cubes freeze my soul.

Beloved Beginner

I guess this is the week for links to my blogger buddies - my friend Elizabeth has been a kindred soul for years. She's a missionary in Montenegro and has also been working on her Masters degree. I hope she doesn't mind, but I'm quoting her post here in toto because it so resonates with what I have recently voiced in Reconstructing Heidi and Leaning into the Fear. Please make sure to go to her blog though to leave comments about her profound words there!

Beloved Beginner - Speaking in My Own Voice

"I just finished re-reading Confessions of a Beginning Theologian (which I’ve quoted before here and have posted a brief reaction to on my Reading in 2008 page). It’s an autobiographical book which describes the author’s journey from a fundamentalist upbringing to becoming a professor of Systematic theology. So much of what Fraser writes about her struggle to find her own voice and to speak confidently (without fear of what other people think) resonates with me. And it resonates not just in the context of being a woman who is venturing into the male-dominated world of theology, but also in the broader context of day-to-day life and relationships. Take the following quote for example:

I began finding my public voice…. I began speaking from my heart. Reluctantly, I gave up my lifelong habit of watching myself out of the corner of my eye. I stopped trying to phrase things so that no one could possibly disagree with me. Word by word, I learned to speak just as I was — not as I thought I ought to be, and not as I thought others wanted me to be. I began paying attention to others’ responses and mine, instead of rushing ahead to the next thing I wanted to say. It was like learning to dance. Practice, practice, practice. Three steps backward, one step forward. (Elouise Renich Fraser, Confessions of a Beginning Theologian, 1998, IVP)

Oh how I wrestle with that same issue: wanting to phrase things in such a way that no one will be hurt or offended, so that no one can misunderstand or disagree. This is not because I don’t have definite, strong opinions about a variety of issues, it’s because I am sometimes uncomfortable with the impact that my words may have on others. Even here, on this blog, there are topics I stray away from because I know that there are those among my dedicated readers who probably disagree with my way of thinking about certain issues. I’m challenged to stop being afraid of my own voice and to learn to join the conversation in a new way. I’m pondering what that might look like at this stage in my life."

Thank you Elizabeth - it is astounding to read my thoughts and fears outside of my own head. I can't wait to read that book you highlighted and learn how to dance myself.

Deep and Wide

I don't want to get to the end of my life and find that I lived just the length of it.
I want to have lived the width of it as well.

Diane Ackerman (quoted in Newsweek)

Inward/Outward

This is your brain on hope

See the winner and other amazing 30 second ads here:

Obama in 30 Seconds

THANK YOU BOB!!

Bonhoeffer on jargon

Just read this in a comment on the Jesus Creed blog by John L and didn't want to loose it:

In his Letters from Prison, Bonhoeffer shared something of great importance,

"I often ask myself why a 'Christian instinct' often draws me more to the religionless people than to the religious, but which I don’t in the least mean with any evangelizing intention, but, I might almost say, “in brotherhood.” While I’m often reluctant to mention God by name to religious people – because that name somehow seems to me here not to ring true, and I feel myself to be slightly dishonest (it’s particularly bad when others start to talk in religious jargon; I then dry up almost completely and feel awkward and uncomfortable) – to people with no religion I can on occasion mention him by name quite calmly and as a matter of course..."

Reconstructing Heidi

This past winter has been emotionally difficult for me. I don't think it was a full blown depression, but a "recess" of sorts. Not the fun recess you always enjoyed in elementary school, but the "backing away" kind of recess that seemed to set me apart, withdraw and tuck in. Starting my degree work, Jacob's diagnosis of juvenile diabetes and the S.A.D. of winter seemed to pull me into myself. It didn't have the ear marks of many of the other deep, dark episodes I have lived through, but I knew I wasn't my best self.

Spring has finally descended on the east coast, and I knew that getting to the shore was a high priority for me. Things kept getting in the way of that and yesterday I finally had the time, the car and the break to get away. I looked at it as a time to restore my soul. Getting near water always seems to do that for me, especially when there are waves involved. Lake Geneva always had beautiful waves, white caps even. For such a small lake it had noisy waves and I always found peace when I was quiet enough to listen.

Our ocean here in the Bay of Fundy has incredible tides, but most of the time they are noiseless. There are a few beaches though that make noise as the tide comes in. Yesterday morning I knew I wanted to be at one of those beaches. The best one, Jasper Beach, is such a long drive, but the music of the waves in the rocks is like no other place on earth.

Gas prices are high and my desire to sit in the car for a long period was low, so I decided to go to our favorite beach combing spot which is the closest to home. The little town was under construction. They are widening the road for the dreaded natural gas line that has railroaded it's way into our serene little spot on the planet. The trucks, construction and dust was everywhere. I wasn't sure I would get into my secret parking spot to walk to my secret beachfront - so I opted for the boat launch instead.

It's a nice little park with a few picnic tables and an expanse of rocks to climb and comb, and I had always wanted to see if it was as rife with beach glass as I had hoped. It was not. But the smell of the sea and the sound of the water was there and I climbed the rocks and toted my camera in case there was anything that moved me.

The noise of the trucks kept interrupting my thoughts and I began to get frustrated. No glass, beeping trucks and that still, small voice of fear in the back of my mind saying that God wasn't going to show up today. That I was really going to be on my own again, that familiar feeling I seemed to push away all winter.

I finished the beach and started to roam the park. Enjoyed the small violets pushing through the leaves and brown grass as if to thumb their nose at the noise and winter. I remember picking those as a little girl in my back yard for my mother when I should have been napping but snuck out of my window instead.They brought back nice memories.

My tummy rumbled and I remembered my packed lunch and thought that sitting at one of the picnic tables in the sunshine might redeem the day. As I sat there I took pictures to show just how amazing the view here truly is. I am blessed. People save their pennies to vacation in such beauty and it's literally right down the road from where I live now. I was grateful.

The thought of opening myself to my surroundings so that I didn't miss anything came to me again and I said a prayer that I be aware.
I watched as about a dozen ducks came into view. I think they were eider ducks, but I wasn't raised around here, so I'm not sure. They were amazing as they would dive deep, for nearly a minute and resurface down the shore, popping up and floating, returning again to the deep, all knowing where the flock was going, all staying in close contact and all resurfacing together to continue down the shore.

I tried to noodle out the deeper meaning of community, fearful this was the message I was supposed to "get" today. Nothing deeper came. Again, frustrated I gathered up my lunch and returned to the trusty, old Volvo to pack up and head down shore to the glass picking beach so that the day wouldn't be a total wash.

As I walked back through the grass I came upon a pile of old, seaworn bricks. All shapes and sizes, collected by someone and set there so purposefully. I walked on to the car imagining the child who saw them as treasure, but the parent who disagreed and made them leave those precious objects behind. It seemed like such a loss. So much work to collect.

As I got to my car I was struck with the urgent need to honor them somehow. Collecting rocks has always been a bit of a silly habit of mine. The thought came to me that I could build an innukshuk with them. I stowed my gear, slung my camera around my back and returned to the pile and attempted to carry all of the loose pieces to a place of honor. I would regard the time and effort that child (because, who but a child would labor so diligently and have their hard work be shunned so carelessly?) put into collecting these precious objects. Just tumbled old bricks that had floated down shore from the factory that used to employ this community.

Now I had a puzzle. Since moving here I have become fascinated with innukshuks. They are monuments that say "I was here." The Inuit in the north use them as markers for winter travel. Their formation is ritualized and the stones are gathered by the whole community. Each type of formation tells something to those trained to read it.

There is water here.

We went this direction.

Civilization is that way.

To those looking for markers along their path they are life savers.

I have always rejoiced at seeing them along the highway. Tiny landmarks that spoke of someone taking the time to signalize their place in history. The ones we have locally are not those of the great tribes, but they still speak of signposts along the path to me.

I have heard that each stone gathered is to be used by the tribe to make the innukshuk. I had 13 pieces (my favorite number since childhood) and they were all shapes and sizes. These were not stones either, they were former bricks, so they were not the types I would have gathered on my own. I would have chosen some long, flat rocks to give stability and arms to my statue, some sturdy legs for a good foundation. Not these random, misshapen lumps. I was tempted to give up. Leave them in a pile for someone else to find. A small ebenezer to still honor the work, but definitely a project that required much less from me.

No. I was determined now. This was my puzzle. As I looked at each one I realized that they were the color of my hair. I had personalized these stones somehow and would feel a measure of failure if I was unable to build them into a statue to stand tall.
As I put the stones together I remembered the conversation I had with my counselor the day before. I went to him in an attempt to untangle the snarls I have had this winter. Getting my assignments and reading done for school has seemed to be an insurmountable task somehow.

I spoke of fear. So much of it unnamed and unidentified. I had told him that sometimes it feels like my head is full of molasses and I am just unable to put two thoughts together enough to build something with. Fear that I wasted my best brain on bad theology, fear that I have nothing "academic" left in me, fear that I will fall back into the bad habit of telling men in authority what I think they want me to say, instead of voicing my own thoughts and ideas; even though these are men who respect and care for who I really am.

And then I spoke of the past few years of deconstruction. How I felt like I had dismantled, torn down and razed just about everything in my quest to find the truth, about God, about myself, even about truth itself.He said that sometimes the deconstruction process is so complete that we sometimes feel like we have nothing left to stand on. That even if we had left a few steps of the old foundation in place that we would have something at least to build on, even if it was a weak foundation. He used that metaphor to talk about building on molasses and slogging through it. He acknowledged that it's a lot of work.

I realized as I played with those bricks that what I was really doing was beginning the reconstruction process. That those bricks were the parts of me that had been dismantled and left strewn about my feet. I puzzled over each piece trying to make them all fit back together. Many times I was tempted to go find those base rocks that would make the process easier, but I knew that would defeat this process.She kept tumbling around me, and I scrambled to catch each piece. I found as I progressed that I had a good solid statue, but that there were some extra pieces left over. I began to feel a bit of a failure and then I realized that as I reconstruct Heidi, and everything I now hold dear, that there will definitely be pieces I won't be putting back into the structure of my theology, belief system and person.
It was okay to leave some of those broken pieces lying at my feet.As I walked away I turned back to see her. To admire my handiwork. I even snapped a picture. Then I realized that I should snap my own picture to mark this place. To say "I. Was. Here."

As I got back to the car another drove in. Up until that point I had the place to myself. As I turned the engine over I saw a father and son get out and a bit of panic crept in. "What if they knock her down?" I just knew she was too tempting to be left standing. And I realized that I had no control over this.

She could be rebuilt and I'm still standing.

New Switchfoot song from Prince Caspian

Jon Foreman writes:

Greetings amigos!

When my brother and I were kids, my dad used to read us CS Lewis books before we went to sleep. So when we were asked to be involved in a movie based on his book, "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" - we were honored to be considered.

I wanted to capture the longing that is embedded in much of Lewis' writing- so I tried to think back to what these stories meant to me when I was six years old and write from that perspective. The song that came out is called "This is Home." It's been quite a journey: a San Diego song with strings cut at Abbey Road in London complete with a video shot in Hollywood.

We are so excited to not only share this song with you, but you can hear the song streaming on our website, myspace, and facebook. The song will also be featured on the soundtrack, which is being released through Hollywood Records on Tuesday May 13th in stores everywhere.

This is our first venture as an independent band- so thank you for being a part of this! And thanks again for all your continued support.

- jon foreman

It's a boy!

Welcome to the world Samuel Joseph Robsky! Yippee! Mom and baby are healthy and happy. Thanks for your prayers!

Sister in hospital, nephew on the way!

My sister Denise has finally gotten the call that a bed has opened up for her at the hospital and she's there and they're starting induction. This is 3 weeks early, but the baby is measuring at 41 weeks already and they're afraid he'll be too big to deliver if they don't start today.

I'm trying to get down there, so prayers for safety, healthy mom & son and traveling mercies for me would be appreciated.

UPDATE: Spoke with her husband this a.m. and the contractions have just started. Ugh, I hated being induced.

My name is Heidi Turner and I approve this ad...

Andrew Johnson

Why do bullies seek to silence such beauty?

This is not the last you will see of this beautiful boy.


HT to Mike Todd

The better we will want to live them

Oh Henri, you're making my day!

One of the arguments we often use for not writing is this: "I have nothing original to say. Whatever I might say, someone else has already said it, and better than I will ever be able to." This, however, is not a good argument for not writing. Each human person is unique and original, and nobody has lived what we have lived. Furthermore, what we have lived, we have lived not just for ourselves but for others as well. Writing can be a very creative and invigorating way to make our lives available to ourselves and to others.

We have to trust that our stories deserve to be told. We may discover that the better we tell our stories the better we will want to live them.

Henri Nouwen

We have to trust that our stories deserve to be told. Love that line.

I received an email yesterday from my friend McNair. McNair is one of THE most amazing people I have ever had the joy of meeting. He is wicked flea market shopper, an inspiration and a former Disney Imagineer who tells the greatest stories and encourages everyone to do the same.

A few years ago I was able to tell my story in such a unique way. McNair was able to participate by being the first person I knew to see that story being told.

I was asked to participate in a documentary called 1000 Journals - the director, Andrea Kreuzhage contacted me to ask me to tell my story about my interaction with the 1000 Journals project. It was not a positive experience for me, I brushed her aside, but she was dogged in her determination to include all of the types of stories, not just the ones that were sunshine and roses.

Andrea & I developed a friendship and she showed herself to be trustworthy and true and safe enough to share my story with. About 3 years ago she came to Beaver County to spend the day with me, her HD video equipment and Ralph Kaechele, her ever talented cinematographer. We spent the day talking, walking, eating and filming and I was able to share with her some of my story.

McNair was able to see the film at the San Fransico Film Festival last weekend and share with me his impressions. I am so honored.

First, and foremost, I honor you for the power, clarity, and courage with which you shared your Journal story in Andrea's remarkable film. You are a major part of this exquisite work. No one has more (or as much) time on camera. Plus it connects with other stories (as so much of the film weaves a tale of connections and relationships AROUND THE WORLD.)

I did not know any of what you shared in the film that had happened as a result of your being a part of the 1000 Journals project. I was VERY moved as I watched and listened to your story unfold and break the hearts of most if not all in the full theatre yesterday.

How great to have Andrea and "SOMEGUY" (Brian Singer) there for Q&A. many were curious about you and how you're doing. IT was a great lesson (and will be for ALL who will see) as to the power of art–even when dashed off casually in a small sketchbook that floats through our lives for a while.

So great to finally meet Andrea after emailing and Facebooking. We exchange bus. cards and I hope to get together with her when she is back in SF this week for the rest of her screenings. Don't know if she'll have time to "cut her away from the herd" for a sip or a bite, we'll see.

She is a talented film maker/story teller and has crafted a piece that not only tells the story of the project in a way that anyone, having never even heard of 1000 Journals, would get it–right away. But far more than that is a film about connections across continents and cultures. It is life-filled as people write (in so many languages) draw, paint, sketch, tape, glue, construct, fold, share, pass-on, mail, or just leave it on a bench, or mountain trail – to be discovered and entered into.

The mind reals thinking about how many thousands of people have touched, read, peeked, and contributed to the (first) 1000 Journals.

My friend Susan ("SARK") Kennedy gave a copy of the book about the books. It was actually the book that Brian Singer (SOMEGUY) sent her to thank her for "Keeping creativity alive." SO, even though he'd already signed it, I asked him to sign it again (see photo). He also had a few of the actual journals there for folks to contribute to. I noticed one book, lying on the table in front of a woman and I asked, "Aren't you going to join in?"

"I'm just a mom." She said pointing to two high school age girls hunched over two books opposite us.

"These books are filled with just moms." I said and pushed a small pile of arts supplies toward her.

She smiled and jumped in...

I am so honored to be a part of this project and I am so looking forward to seeing it. If you do see it please let me know - all of our stories deserve to be told. I can't wait to hear yours!

Weathervanes for Kel

My Ozi blogger friend Kel has a beautiful post on interior weathervanes and compasses - both things we here in the Turner house love. This eastern seaboard is dotted with unique, wonderful weathervanes and we spend much our our travels with camera in hand trying to capture them - these are some of my favorites. Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emergent Politics

I have been thinking a lot about the political race in the states since Obama sucked me in. I had divorced myself of tv news coverage and the bane of the talking heads for quite a few years until I began to hear the clarion call of Barack Obama's message. I must say that not caring what happened was much easier. I now care far too much - and will be heartbroken if America chooses what I consider to be fear, hate and unrest instead of hope, unity and peace.

I believe what is truly at stake here is so similar to what is happening within the modern church and the emerging church. Barack Obama is a politician for a post-modern generation. This is why many of the old guard cannot hear his message while those of us who do cannot hear anything else. Ears trained for modern facts and imperialism aren't able to grasp the nuanced messages of postmodern thought. The old guard cannot seem to get their head around the idea that many in the rest of the world already know.

This article by Frank Schaeffer articulates so well the choice our country must make - old or new - past or future - I for one want a hopeful future:

The Fight for Obama Requires Euphemisms and More Truth

Writing to Save the Day

Daily quote from Henri Nouwen today is pure gold:

Writing can be a true spiritual discipline. Writing can help us to concentrate, to get in touch with the deeper stirrings of our hearts, to clarify our minds, to process confusing emotions, to reflect on our experiences, to give artistic expression to what we are living, and to store significant events in our memories. Writing can also be good for others who might read what we write.

Quite often a difficult, painful, or frustrating day can be "redeemed" by writing about it. By writing we can claim what we have lived and thus integrate it more fully into our journeys. Then writing can become lifesaving for us and sometimes for others too.

I for one am so grateful Henri wrote - he has saved my day many times. Speaking of which, for anyone who cares I haven't broke the chain since November 21 - hard to believe 5 months can pass like that, but it truly has redeemed my days.

Leaning into the fear

I have always wanted to learn how to sail. The excitement of the wind in your hair, the freedom on the water and the romance of the lifestyle the boating crowds I grew up with in my home town of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin spoke of a natural, carefree control.

Watching an accomplished sailor is like watching a talented dancer. Effortless, graceful, knowing the next moves far before they are necessary. I remember whipping across the lake as a child feeling like there was nothing that could hold me back. So natural, so fluid. I know now that sailing is a lot of hard work, reading the wind, instructing your crew, avoiding the other watercraft and years of practice. And it starts with many summers in the Sunflower turtled and paddle kicking it back to the dock because you just can't find the wind. I know it's not all grace and beauty - but when it does work it takes my breath away. I can hear the pinging of the sails on the mast even now if I close my eyes and go back there. As real as the birds outside my window as I type. It is my happy place. The place in my mind I go to when I need calm.

I took this picture last September when Keith and I were celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary on Mt. Desert Island and Bar Harbor. I think it's on Somes Sound and it transported me back to my teen years instantly - watching this sailboat track across the water. It was lightning fast and really playing with the strong wind. This is adventure sailing - not the timid kind I grew up with - our lake was so populated with water craft you could never gain the speed this sailor was flying with. There were times when the sail was nearly sideways. Either he really knew what he was doing or he was just plain lucky he didn't flip. It was a beautiful boat on a gorgeous day. We had to pull over the car just to watch.

I have been frozen lately. Frozen by fear. I shared at our small group on Friday that it's both fear of failing and fear of success that is icing my soul. What if the biggest, best idea I have doesn't have the wheels it needs to even write my thesis, let alone find a publisher. But again, what if it does and changes everything. Both fears loom so large in my mind's eye. I realized that they had crippled me into giving up.

I spoke with my friend Ed the other day about what I had voiced at group and he said these words to me "What if you leaned into the fear?"

The words stopped me short.

Changing perspectives lately has changed everything for me. What if the fear I was feeling wasn't my enemy, but my friend? What if it would provide the energy I need to actually finish what I have started? What if I used that energy the fear creates in me to power me toward doing the work that is in front of me instead of avoiding it. Could it really change everything?

What would leaning into the fear look like? Instantly I saw this sailboat slicing across the waves. The wind filling every inch of it's sails and taking that boat everywhere it needed to go. So today, I am leaning. Resting in the resistance that the fear in me creates. Maybe it is my friend. Maybe I've just been looking at it from the wrong perspective.

Grace

Bob reminds me what is so amazing about grace this morning and ends with this incredible quote:

"Grace that was in the beginning will be at the end as well".
Mother Theresa

Enjoy the whole post here:

My holy story: Grace finds goodness in everything

Blessed are the peacemakers

"To be at peace is to overcome the world"

My friend RWK rises wise this morning:

Blesses are the peacemakers

Attraction, not promtion

When you are interiorly free you call others to freedom, whether you know it or not. Freedom attracts wherever it appears. A free man or a free woman creates a space where others feel safe and want to dwell. Our world is so full of conditions, demands, requirements, and obligations that we often wonder what is expected of us. But when we meet a truly free person, there are no expectations, only an invitation to reach into ourselves and discover there our own freedom.

Where true inner freedom is, there is God. And where God is, there we want to be.

Henri Nouwen

FYI - King, Grisham & Gerritsen Read in Bangor

FYI for local readers - just heard from Stephen King that he, John Grisham and Tess Gerritsen will be supporting Tom Allen for Senator in Maine at an event in Bangor on June 7th:

Please join Stephen King, John Grisham, and Tess Gerritsen for an event to benefit Congressman Tom Allen’s U.S. Senate campaign. These best-selling authors will each do a reading from their recent works and talk about the importance of this exciting race.

Saturday, June 7th at 7:00 pm
Bangor Auditorium, Bass Park Complex,
100 Dutton Street, Bangor, ME
(Doors open at 6:00 pm)

General Admission is $25.00. Way cool way to support a local politician looking to stop the war and bring some accountability to congress. Carpool anyone?

You Are Not Lost

I have been feeling a bit lost lately, so this was very poignant to me today:

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

Source: "Lost", David Wagoner in Good Poems, selected by Garrison Keillor

via

Living in the Liminal

The older I get the more I appreciate "liminal" spaces. Impossible to describe with crisp labels, these are the times marked by both excitement and terror, grief and joy, despair and celebration. They are the times of horrifying loss and isolation as well as tender surprise and intimacy. A tornado sweeps through, drawing a small town close together; a dearly loved one succumbs to addiction and we begin our own journey toward healing; a friend who has loved more freely and fully than any human one has loved before is publicly crucified and now is reported to be alive. It's all so surreal; it's all so normal--in liminal space....

Kayla McClurg

via

That guy burns me up!

That guy burns me up!

My Favorite Artist

My blogger friend Blair has just put the finishing touches on her own website to promote her incredible art. Blair has such a wonderful gift and I am so excited for her first show. Any friends in the DC/Baltimore area please make sure to check it out for me! So wish I could be there!

Blair Anderson Artist

Congratulations Blair!

East Coast Star Gazers FYI

Tuesday, April 8, 9:45 pm (ET), Region-Wide - Looking West - Crescent Moon Pairs with the Pleiades - Tonight, weather permitting, the crescent moon is unusually high at dusk and right next to the Pleiades, the sky’s finest naked-eye star cluster. Normally the Moon overpowers nearby stars, but not when it’s this thin. Lucky viewers in eastern Canada and the northeastern US even get to see the Moon occult (cover) some of the northern Pleiades, starting around 9:45 p.m. EDT. The Moon’s leading limb will be well lit by earthshine but still dim enough that it will be easy to watch the stars wink out.

Courtesy Sky and Telescope. For more information contact Sky and Telescope

Thanks Jude!

Don't get your hopes up!

storypeople tells my story today:

stable as long as nothing else in the whole world shifts (so don't get your hopes up)

We Think

again, thanks Jim!

needharmony.com

Marko @ YS just posted this on his blog - Eddie & Tommy, The Skit Guys made this hysterical mock up of a eHarmony commercial - enjoy!

Something my daughter is teaching me

The Beauty of Shyness

There is something beautiful about shyness, even though in our culture shyness is not considered a virtue. On the contrary, we are encouraged to be direct, look people straight in the eyes, tell them what is on our minds, and share our stories without a blush.

But this unflinching soul-baring, confessional attitude quickly becomes boring. It is like trees without shadows. Shy people have long shadows, where they keep much of their beauty hidden from intruders' eyes. Shy people remind us of the mystery of life that cannot be simply explained or expressed. They invite us to reverent and respectful friendships and to a wordless being together in love.

Henri Nouwen

Too beautiful to be a commercial!

via jim hancock