All Things Heathen and Santa III

It's that time of year again when I find myself standing in a ridiculously long Santa line with my 3 and 5 year old. My parents, brother and nephews joined to make it an extended family affair.  We all rotated in line and getting the kids dinner (that was a life-saver and I highly recommend it!).  I started to get annoyed at the 1-2 hour wait and then it dawned on me that I would be doing this for only another 3-5 years before they figure it out.  It was hard to believe that soon enough I would be looking at the line as I shopped with my teenagers, wishing I had little ones again. That thought helped my impatience a bit and finally it was our turn.  The girls sat and showed Santa all their wishes on their list and smiled really big for the camera.  My littlest finally sat on his lap and they truly had a magical time.  My oldest was surprised he talked! All she thought he said was "Ho Ho Ho!" And so commemorated another successful Santa trip.

This year as all of this has come around again, it dawned on me that there will be a time just as I have had where what is "real" becomes questioned.  I know they will figure out Santa has my writing and he looks different at every mall.  I know eventually they will smile and nod when I tell them this gift is from Santa.  They might hear from their school friends that he isn't real and wonder if this could be true.

What I also realized is that they will also do the same for their belief in God.  They will experience this life and wonder if He is who He says He is.  They will question His will and ways.  They will hear from their friends different beliefs or the lack thereof.  There will be a moment/moments when no matter how hard I try, all of what they know will have to be owned and truly believed by them.

You see they can get the foundation, the head knowledge, the stories.....but one day they will have to have their own relationship with God that I can't teach. My girls can watch and observe my relationship with God but I can't replicate it for them nor would I want to. This relationship, this moment where God is real to them is so personal, it's a fingerprint, a sacred secret that I can't wait for them to experience.

This world is cruel, heartless, and hard.  I can't protect them from this.  I know they will wrestle with how God fits into all of it, but another thing I know is He will always be there for them no matter what.

As I've struggled  with my own relationship with God amidst all the hurt, pain, and suffering; I have often felt weak.  Just when my questioning would get to a place of leaving the faith, I found myself surrendering to a deeper place.  Just when I realized, my God was a holy Santa I knew I was living a lie. And I had to dig, dig, dig.  I found amongst my rubble that there was a solid foundation of truth that couldn't be denied.  I may not have understood it at the time, but it was too great and obvious to walk away from.

So as my girls see the holiday magic fade away through the years, I know they will have the foundation of truth poured into their hearts.  As they question this Jesus Christ that they innocently grew to surrender to, I know in their rubble, He will be the foundation to rebuild on.  As they rebuild, I pray that they too will know and love Christ with a fierce authenticity that I am growing to love about my relationship.  I pray they understand that He is more than a wish list and that they can continually surrender to a relationship and not anything else.

So this season I will continue to stand in the Santa line, make their elaborate wish lists, and stuff their stockings.  I know this too will fade and I have a few more years of these kinds of holidays.  They might catch me touching the elf and realize my wrapping paper is the same as Santa's.  They will question how Santa can get down the chimney if there isn't one and how the elf only moves when they are sleeping.

I also know they will question how God can know everyone's thoughts, and care specifically for them and even a sparrow for that matter.  Or how He loves us despite our mistakes and lack of affection towards him.  Or how He dwells within us and in heaven. I could go on, in fact I could do this all day....

Although the month of December has its holiday magic, each day I will pour the truth of Christ into them.  I will continue to lay the foundation that will be there in their pain and struggle and I can't wait for the day that they become personal with Him through their questions and fears.  And although I can't create that relationship for them, I pray I can show them one that is vulnerable, honest, and authentic every day of every year.

Open Cabinets

While putting together a fantastic Pinterest recipe the other day, I opened the cabinets to get out the necessary spices.  After sprinkling the goodness into the pot I needed another saucepan out of the bottom cabinet.  As I read the next set of instructions, I realized I needed to get my serving spoon out of the dishwasher. Then another item out of the pantry, and another out of the silverware drawer.  As I finally finished my last touches on the meal and got it in the oven, I was exhausted.  Feeling accomplished I turned around and saw virtually every cabinet door in my kitchen open with every ingredient and utensil sprawled all over the place.  After all the work I had put into the meal, I had so much more work to do cleaning up the mess.

I realized something that day that I've never known about myself.....I hate putting things away.

I don't mind putting the clothes in the washer and dryer, washing the dishes in the dishwasher, making my favorite dinners, or going grocery shopping.  It's the aftermath of all these activities I naturally dislike.  I wasn't aware of my discontent until I discovered this pattern.  The laundry would stay in the dryer, a pile of hand-washed dishes would grow, and grocery bags would lay in the middle of my kitchen.

The task itself isn't bad, it's the extra effort it takes to follow it completely through that really gets me stuck.

And so it is my life.  I'm getting used to spilling my guts, being real and just letting it all out.  I've got everything laid out like a big fat mess all over the place.  The task of getting to this point has been difficult but now I am able to do it with ease.  Talking to "my people," getting vulnerable and authentic....dealing with my "ish" is starting to feel normal.

The recipe is complete, the hard work has been put into every detail in perfecting my meal but my cabinets are open and the messy counters are indicative of what is going on inside.

Ultimately I've become ok with the disheveled pantry and the unorganized tupperware shelf. I'm able to let my girls play with the utensils and throw them back in the drawer like a toy chest.  I'm accustomed to the chaos inside, but I've also been accustomed to hide it.

I don't want to hide my mess with closed cabinet doors because I know there is a place for everything I've put out on the table.  I almost feel like it's the home stretch, once I figure out a place to put all of my ish away, I will arrive.

But every time I clean out my cabinets, 3 months later the mess comes back, it just looks different. That's exactly how I feel.  I put things away just to find my cabinets open to a whole new mess less than a week later.  And so I become disheartened to come to the conclusion that I will always have a mess and be a mess.

Yet, as I pulled out the Pinterest masterpiece from the oven and took a warm bite of this piece of heaven I created I thought,"it was worth it".  It was worth my time and effort, my sore feet and all.  When I remember that bite of goodness I don't remember the mess I made or the clean-up I had to undertake.  I remember the experience of the final product and that made it worth every blood, sweat and tear I had endured In the creation process.

So every new chapter I face on this journey, every new discovery, post, or pain; it is a new masterpiece......a new mess.  I will take out the different ingredients the next recipe of life calls for and turn around to see the results of making it through.  Putting things away takes time and just when I put it all back where it belongs, it's time to start all over again.  So for every recipe that calls for pain, heartache, and frustration......I will look forward to saying, "it was worth it." Until then, clear the counters......I'm making a mess.

Don't Stay Strong

Don't stay strong

Recently a friend of mine had a tragic loss. After experiencing a miscarriage, was devastated and reached out to me so I could pray for her. She also admitted that several people had been telling her to "stay strong." I could tell that this stung, it slowly tore her down and saddened her inner being. She told me it brought her guilt because she knew she wasn't strong and she couldn't fix that. I completely understood.

Luckily I didn't get that wonderful (or not) nugget of advice when dealing with my own tragedy. Here's the truth, the little nugget I tell others who face hardship/trials/tragedy is "fall apart."  Make sure you cry, make sure you experience every emotion that comes. Fully embrace the anger, frustration, and pain.  Pray with it and through it. Pound the bed with clenches fists and scream in your pillow.  Cry until no more tears come, raise your fist to the ceiling, beg God for mercy. Don't be strong.

I forced myself to so this, I completely fell apart and was a shell of my former self. Screw being strong. There is no way. I would be fake and phony and a complete fraud. I.just.couldn't.

But I battled the "Christian me." I would never allow myself to fall apart. I was strong because I felt I had to be. I felt that I wouldn't be someone that completely relies on God. I really wanted to keep it together so that others would see how awesome God was in my life. I wanted to be a witness, a light....I wanted to be different.

But the grief was too heavy, the pain was too deep to uphold this standard I put upon myself. I completely fell apart and like my friend, I battled guilt for not being stronger. The only thing I was able to tell others was, "this is where the rubber meets the road. I believe what I do, or I don't."

The most amazing thing started to happen. It felt great to be weak. I didn't clench onto my life and rely on my actions, my advice, or my abilities. I wasn't able to be the poster Christian child. I just was.

I realized the selfishness that came with my efforts to "take control" and put on the front that I'm impermeable because I have God. I thought that I had God's job to do.....but He is so much bigger than me. I can imagine that He wouldn't want to build anything on the lie that I had it altogether.

It has been in these moments I have been the most mailable. I realize, it's not up to me to show others how amazing God is. It's up to God to show others how amazing He is. He may happen to use me, or not.

Falling apart has been so freeing. It's been so beautiful and awful. I'm living the "when I'm weak, He is strong." It is so great to know I don't have to be!

I think the best thing I can do, or be, is broken. Somehow, someway, someday God may even use me...the poster child of weak.

Whispers of God

Whispers of God

It all started one afternoon.  The girls were frolicking in the yard behind our apartment and I sat just basking in the sun enjoying the blessings of my life when along came a butterfly.  It was flitting around, dancing all around me on the bench. It was in that moment that I felt like all my kids were there dancing, enjoying the amazingly beautiful day.  I sat and enjoyed them all.

When we first lost our son, we sent out an email notifying everyone what had happened.    I can't remember how I came across this poem but I do remember sending it out:

Butterfly

A Symbol of Hope
A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam
And for a brief moment its glory and beauty belong to our world
But then it flies again
And though we wish it could have stayed…
We feel lucky to have seen it.

Unknown


I've never been able to see a butterfly the same. But this summer;  this summer is, well.... rare. Every second I leave my door, there it is, a beautiful flittering butterfly, often more than one.  If I'm throwing out trash, there it is....taking out the dog, there it is.

I have had the most incredible urge to catch it or have it land on something long enough for me to capture a picture and to try and grasp its essence.  To have something to look at and to remind me of it, to keep it close.

My new obsession was to try and snap a picture of the butterfly.  I found myself throwing the trash away and rushing back in to get my phone.  When the  butterfly would land, I would have  to sneak up to get a closer shot.  As I crept forward, off it would fly and I disappointedly have to wait for another opportunity.  Days would go by with many failed attempts of trying to get a glimpse to burn forever in my memory.

It took several attempts for me to get a picture.  I finally did.  But every time I look at it, it doesn't do the moment justice.

I don't get the same feeling as I do seeing it float like a messenger from above, the joy and presence it brings with it cannot be replaced.  I realized its not the butterfly that is so impressive to me, but the timing of its presence.  Like little whispers from the Father He says, "I remember. I do not forget you or your suffering." Like rays of heaven they meet me and I can't help but smile knowing this is no accident.

Sure, I can capture a glimpse and a moment just like I had captured my moment with Jerin. It reminds me of being pregnant with him.....knowing he was flitting around in the womb, watching him on the ultrasound twitch and move all over the place.  And when I held him in my arms I remembered begging myself to always remember that moment, to burn it in my heart forever....but all I have now is stagnant memories.

The recent flutters of these butterflies have stirred a great movement in my soul.  One of joy and of remembrance.  I come in from a surprise encounter with these flying angels often with tears in my eyes because of the sudden presence of him all over again.  But I also am touched by the sweetness of God, the gentle reminders from Him of His immense love for me.  He knows my heart here on Earth will always have a place for my son that will never be filled, yet He pursues me with His creation and for a second I feel complete.  And in all honesty.....it brings me hope and a renewed spirit in Christ.  I forget so quickly how much Christ adores me and blesses me, and I am reminded in the  quiet motion of a butterfly.

Oh how I don't want it to end.  I know the summer days will fade and the bitter cold of Winter will come.  The surprise whispers will fade and I will lose sight of these glimpses of heaven.  I will have pictures and memories but will live to see another summer of the butterflies.

But for now I "Feel Lucky to have seen it."  I feel like the only girl in the world who gets to see this "glory" in this way.  Because I get a whisper from God that no one else does and I keep it and guard it with my heart.  I lift my face up to the heavens with gratitude and hope.  I may even wish for a chance for one to land on me just long enough so I can hold it before it flutters away just like my Jerin.

So I thank you God for remembering me, for giving me glimpses of your Glory in the smallest of things.  For sending down my son for a visit now and then and the glimpses I get to see of him.  Thank you for loving me so, beyond what I will ever know.  I love your whispers of grace and love, may I treasure them forever until we meet again.

In searching for the above poem, I found this next one and couldn't help but feel moved by its words.  I feel it captures the essence of this post and all I am feeling as of now.

Messenger of God

Oh, Little Butterfly,
Messenger of God,
When I see you in the sky
I cannot help but nod.
You bring me respite
From grief and despair
Every time I see you
Sailing through the air.
You renew my faith
In all God’s wondrous plan,
And I know it’s all in FAITH,
Not in what I understand.

Kathryn Poland

When Personal Becomes Professional

When Personal Becomes Professional

Lately something has been happening and I can't say that I like it so much.  My worlds are starting to collide, to converge, to come together in such a way I'm starting to really laugh at the irony of it all. Looking back over the 10 years of teaching I've had, I can see a trend.....I can keep my professional and personal lives pretty separate.  Of course there are things that naturally overlap like relationships, my beliefs system, and the nature of who I am; but for the most part work has been a place that I can put in its own category.

The role of a teacher has been a comfortable one for me.  I know that this is the case because the position has a sense of control....I love feeling like I'm in control.  I love knowing what's coming next and sailing through the plans of my day like the captain. Little things may throw me off course here and there but the majority of the time, I'm at the helm batting down the hatches.

Just like my students, I thrive in routine and knowing what comes next.  I love the time frames of each day and knowing exactly when my breaks are.  I have become accustomed to this position and title and I truly love and embrace all that it has to offer.

I also love to explore the new "lands" of teaching.  To reach beyond myself and navigate  to unknown waters.  I challenge myself to always evolve and grow and it keeps my job fresh and new......I have found it to be quite a passion of mine.

Over the last year I have been experimenting with a new set of standards that completely changes the way I have been teaching for 10 years.  I picked it up quickly from the moment I saw an example and have slowly re-vamped my teaching across all subject areas.  The results have been indescribable and have ignited a fire and desire to continue on this path.

One trend that has been overtly obvious to me is the fact that the control factor has started to shift and change in a way that has been uncomfortable yet refreshing.  My classroom became a new adventure and a place of treasure hunting for me.....I am loving this process.

One day an opportunity arose that challenged me beyond my abilities.  Sure I had willingly soared through this uncharted land on my own....with the door closed.....I was free to experiment without fear, without scrutiny.  Everything was going great when I was able to fail.

I got the email late Monday evening asking if I would be willing to have our local paper come to take pictures and see a lesson using this new strategy and standards. Of course I was willing!  Eager and excited I sat down to devise my amazing lesson.  Slowly I was realizing that I could only plan so much before losing my "control" over to my students.  It was a struggle, one that I was fighting with this new way of teaching.  I would become facilitator and teach through their discoveries.  I knew very well that this lesson had a very high possibility of not going the way "I wanted it to."


And there it was, it dawned on me, I had to be vulnerable and authentic in the eyes of the reporter....I had to show a lesson that could "fail" or could be epic......either option wasn't in my control.  I had to take a "risk," and be free to make mistakes.  I had to let go and be OK with the outcome.  As I pondered all these things, I realized that these are the foundational pieces I have had to build my classroom on.

I worked on creating an environment where my students try, fail, and build perseverance.  I've had to make the curriculum challenging where they may not know exactly "how," but they have confidence in the process.

So here I was, in the same boat.  I knew, if I don't take this risk, if I'm not real, if I fake my way through this lesson....then I will fail.  I will fail what I stand for, I will fail in my determination, I will fail beyond the credibility of my lesson but the very core of who I am.  I will be a hypocrite.

After this realization, I felt great, I slept great, and for the first time in a long time, I surrendered this to God. I knew that I was ready and willing to fail, even if it cost me the facade of perfection.  I felt secure in being vulnerable and authentic.  I was ready to be real in this setting, to surrender myself and my agenda and "let go."

So the fateful day came, I did my lesson and the student rose to the challenge and performed great; not by me or through me, but on their own, wrestling and excitedly diving into the lesson, and grasping the concept. I had fun, they had fun.

The reporter then started interviewing me on this new set of standards.  I admitted that I really had no idea where the lesson would go, the students wrote down their own words and I had no idea what word they even wrote.  I said, "I have to be vulnerable in these kinds of lessons, letting go of control and letting the students guide the lesson.  It's hard but it's also amazing."

The article was on the front page of the Sunday paper.  I cried.  Not because of some sort of accomplishment on my part but more about the reality that authenticity is taking over.......everything.  It's not always comfortable but it's my reality and I'm learning to embrace it.  It's clear that this is a life lesson for me and a way that is taking over all the categories of my life.  Surrendering to it is becoming a blessing, it's becoming my norm, it's becoming my friend.

So thank you authenticity for tearing me up and ripping through every area of my life.  You suck sometimes but ultimately I appreciate that everyone can relate to you.....even the teacher in me.

In God I Trust?

When it comes to taking a long trip, I'm the kind of girl that likes to get to my destination.  Right at the beginning I think, "I'll feel better once I get there."  I like to know where I'm going and the agenda on how to get there.  It's hard for me to sit back and enjoy the ride.  I hate delayed flights and unexpected bumps in the road.  I force myself to look out the window and "take it all in," even though I'm grinding my teeth the whole time while white knuckling the arm rests as we hit turbulence and buckle our seat belts.


I'll never forget getting the news that my son was dead inside me and having to wait two days before I could deliver him......I couldn't wait to finally deliver him and get it over with.  The anticipation was horrifying, the fear of what was to come or how I was going to feel was sickening.  I hardly ate or slept because I just didn't know what was to come.  I remember finally holding him in my arms, and then being moved to the "trauma" floor thinking, "I'm so glad that's over, now I can move on."  Even then I wanted to move from point A to point Z. Little did I know that my emotional recovery would continue for years after that day.

I fight the recovery process.  I am in a tug-o-war with myself.  On one side it's me, trying to find the "answer" and "fix" everything wrong with me......on the other side, it's me; surrendering to the process and "enjoying the ride." Back and forth I go, it's been a good 4 years of this and recently I'm hitting a layer that's pretty substantial.  This layer of my onion (refer to "the onion" post) is deep.  I've been dealing with it for awhile.  I know that this layer is thick and has been buried for quite some time.  It can be crippling and paralyzing, it stifles my creativity and I somewhat go into "survival mode" as I grapple with it.

This layer, this next step to my core has a name......trust.

As a self-proclaimed control freak I'm realizing that trust is probably something I have never really had.  I'm a pretty independent girl with a decent head on my shoulders.....I tend to take life on.  I'm responsible and driven, I research and put effort into every decision I make.  Slowly I have stared to lose trust unknowingly, falling prey to my efforts as if somehow I can control everything.


 I know the pot boiled over 4 years ago when I lost my son.  What I mean is....I couldn't keep a lid on all the normal "ish" I dealt with from day to day....it was boiling over and couldn't be ignored.  But this particular layer snuck up on me.  I started fearing irrational things more frequently.  I have lost sleep, planning and battling for the worst case scenario.

Embarrassed I brought these fears before my counselor afraid she would lock me up for my absurdity.  Inquisitively she asked, "If these things really did happen, what do you fear the most?"  Tears filled up my eyes and streamed down my face, I knew exactly what I feared but I was ashamed to admit it.  "I fear God won't take care of me....but worse, I fear He won't protect my girls."

It's still hard to admit.......I don't trust Him.

Of course it "makes sense"after-all, I lost a child.  But the deeper reality is I can't say I ever really did trust God.

The layer is peeled, the reality is there and now I want to do something about it. I have been determined, focused, and on a mission to trust Him.  I WANT to trust God, I NEED to trust God......it's broken right now and I want to fix it.

What's wrong with me?  I trust the stop light to work, as much as I trust my husbands word, and as much as I know the Fall season will bring back my favorite TV shows (and football). I trust that I will have my job the next day, and when I flip a switch on my wall, the light will turn on.

And there it is.....I trust a bazillion other things more than the One that gives me another day of life.  It's frustrating, and maddening.... I throw temper tantrums over it.

There isn't a "How-to Trust God for Dummies" book out there for me to read.  There isn't a clear A to Z step by step instructions in the Bible on how to trust God......it just tells us to.  There are plenty of examples in the Bible of those who trusted and those who didn't that I can strive to be more like or avoid.  As I go through these examples I'm realizing every story is different, unique to that person; their trials, relationships, and places in life are pieces to a bigger puzzle .....it. is. A. journey.

Well crap.....I hate journeys.  And because of that, I'm not expecting to enjoy this ride or even come to a final destination of complete trust.  But I am realizing that this journey is unique to me....my layers are like my own fingerprint.  And maybe trusting isn't doing but simply being. Maybe it's admitting that I don't trust that puts me in the arena.

So what do I do now?  Well, I'm not going to pretend or lie that the process through this is all roses.  I will have white knuckles, I will clinch my teeth and probably will be delayed along the way. But more importantly I will do my part in this trust relationship....I will be myself, resign to the fact I can't do anything on my own and remain in Christ. And hopefully at some point I can look out the window along the way and finally "enjoy the ride."

Humanity and Abandon

Humanity and Abandon

Over the last five years of my life my sole purpose has been to find/search/wrestle with authenticity.  In a world that teaches us that we need to be "perfect" or it tells us it's OK to cover-up our imperfections.....it's been a real challenge.  It's easy to blame society or "this day in age," but I've come across a woman in the Bible who is beautifully authentic and speaks so deeply to me.....Mary of Bethany.

We first find her in Luke 10.  Jesus is stopping at her home with her sister Martha.  Martha is the perfectionist and wants everything perfect for her Lord.  She is busy preparing things, cleaning, cooking, doing everything imaginable to make things presentable and worthy for Jesus' visit.  When he comes, Martha continues to serve and work diligently to make him comfortable.  Mary on the other hand is described as "sitting at the Lord's feet listening to what he said." Martha, being the big sister she is, complained to Jesus and asking him to tell Mary to start helping her.....after all, she was just sitting there.  I loved how Jesus responded, " Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken from her."

Mary knew how to have an authentic relationship with Jesus.  She knew how to put the "things" of this world that mattered to the eyes of others, and she abandoned them to sit at the feet of The Lord.  It was very controversial for her to sit at the feet of Jesus.  In "that day and age," sitting there, listening to him was considered a place of a disciple; a woman in that position was unheard of.  She was accepted as a disciple in His eyes.  He was her teacher, her friend, her everything.  She was soaking in every word he said, getting to know him on every level.  I'm sure they laughed and told stories, living life together.  She did choose what was better.....a relationship. Instead of getting wrapped up in perfection, she was herself, pure, and authentic.

The next time we see Mary, she is at the tomb of her dead brother Lazarus. When. Jesus heard of Lazarus' death, he came to the scene.  When Mary met him she falls at his feet saying,  "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." And then she cried, and cried, and cried.  And Jesus cried too..... with her.

Oh how she speaks to me.  I love how human she was here.  She wasn't afraid to be herself.....to tell the truth. She knew this was Jesus.....the one.....and she still was authentic in her pain and suffering.  She wasn't afraid to question him, to show him her disappointment and her grief at his absence.  So many times I find myself holding back my humanity.  I change my prayers to be more "appropriate" or "fit for a King." I hold back the dark and real parts of me as if I'm protecting God from it.  But really, I'm protecting myself from being raw and vulnerable.  Mary shows me that while she has her quiet moments of sitting at his feet, she also had her vulnerable moments of    admitting, "Where the heck were you!?"

 After this, we see her in John 12 anointing Jesus' feet with expensive perfume:

"Six days before the Passover, Jesus arrived at Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus' honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus' feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, "Why wasn't this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year's wages." He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

"Leave her alone," Jesus replied. "It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”

— John 12:1-8, New International Version

Here I love how Mary shows complete abandon.  She doesn't hesitate in her actions.  She doesn't question Jesus, "hey, do you think I should save this for something more important?" Or, "am I going to need this later on?" No, she gives herself over to the cause.....no matter what anyone says.....no matter what the future holds.

I see this and even chuckle at my hesitancy in this world.  Even when it comes to giving things over to The Lord, I question and hesitate.  Sometimes even after knowing and hearing that "still small voice," I sit on it.....fear.....worry.  I wait and pray that extra long time in order to solidify my comfort.  But Mary knew she would face negative talk. She knew she might need this expensive perfume for the future, she knew that Jesus was the Son of God.....she had seen him raise her brother from the tomb.  That's all she needed.  Complete surrender and trust over to her King......her friend.

This wasn't just a man to Mary, it was her Savior.  She shows me a true authentic relationship with God that I can say I've never really had.  Since reading about her I hear my prayers becoming more human.....I see myself abandoning the things that really don't matter.....seeing the feet of Jesus and throwing myself on my knees in all of my humanity.  It's here that I know when I weep, when I question, when I'm myself.....He meets me there.  He weeps with me....He knows me....He's my friend.....He's my Savior.