Kristin Herdy’s Quest for the Holy Landfill

I’m an auntie! More on that later. On the way to and from the hospital to see my nephew, I drive along a country highway, dotted with several large estates and ranches.

What you notice as you pass are the iron gates, large houses, softly rolling green hills, cattle, pristine estate grounds and long drives, and the signs. Those houses all have signs up right now. STOP THE LANDFILL, they say. The signs are large, professional, and look costly.

I can’t help but think about the “sides” of this landfill issue. I wouldn’t want a landfill in my backyard, either. I wouldn’t want my groundwater potentially compromised by rainwater runoff over mounds of trash. I wouldn’t want the stench. On the other hand, landfills have to go somewhere, right?

Who should bear the brunt of the landfill?

Those who produce the most waste?

Those who can’t afford to stop the initiative?

Who deserves to live in a landfill-free environment?

Those who pay the most for their houses?

Those who bear the lion’s share of property taxes?

Matthew 23:27 “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of dead men’s bones and everything unclean.”

Reading those signs, I couldn’t help but feel that, as human beings, we know our waste, our excess, our sin, will come back to haunt us, but like the Pharisees, we also believe we can keep the facade looking clean and pristine and avoid the consequences.

We might try to hide it away in someone else’s area. We might try to slap a new coat of paint on it. We could rebrand and repackage it. We could recycle it or shoot it into space. We can’t seem to eliminate it, though, not through all our efforts.

No one wants a landfill in their backyard. No one wants to live in their own waste. No one wants the consequences of their sin to pile up and over their fences and spill into their flower beds.

If your sin were represented by a mound of trash… what is the capital of Assyria? how much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood? what is the air speed velocity of an unladen swallow? look! a baby!!!!

In other words, what absurd things do we do to avoid the punishment of our sin, instead of asking forgiveness and accepting the consequences?

To Love A (Wo)Man

It’s a humbling experience to return to a blog after nearly a month and see that the stats are still quite high. I almost cannot fathom that so many days have passed in silence, here, and yet, people still visit and read. In many ways, I’m still speechless, because of what has happened to me while I’ve been away, because of what is still happening to me on my journey.

I’ve taken a break from most of my regular activities. I stopped holding meetings at church. I didn’t attend my life group last time around. I skipped church Council meetings to stay home with my children. I haven’t written much of anything in the last four weeks. I haven’t read much in the last month. I haven’t commented, haven’t logged into Twitter, haven’t passed along many blog posts. I’ve been on a break.

And you know what I found in the silence? in the stillness? in my swing?

I found love.

There’s no big announcement there. I’m not getting married or anything. I’m talking about the love of friends and family and kids and regular readers.

I’ve found that love isn’t some grand romantic gesture but a card in the mail on the day you want to give up.

Love is the friend who humors you with another round of online Scrabble at 2 am, because you need to keep talking to someone.

Love makes you dinner and draws you pictures in crayon (Thanks, Sara!)

Love wakes up early, drags a stool into the kitchen, and pours you a cup of chocolate milk (Thanks, Mia!)

Love gives you big squeezy hugs until you think your head will pop off (Thanks, Wendy!)

Love chases you around the house, and when you’re caught, demands to be tickled (Thanks, Matt!)

Love is the honest assessment of mistakes you’ve made and the just-as-honest assurance that you can meet your goals and achieve yours dreams.

Love brings sandwiches to the homeless, groceries to the elderly, goes door-to-door and makes quilts for people affected by disaster and poverty.

Love shows up to teach students who are eager and those who can’t wait to leave.

Love plans ahead and love is spontaneous.

Love is green in the mail when you are staring at an empty bank account and your kids are in need of school supplies.

I’ve been blessed to have the best friends and family in the world, who know just how to love a (wo)man. I’ve been blessed to have each of those forms of love visit me in the past month, like the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, to show me a better way.

I just want to say Thank You. Thank you for reading. Thank you for sticking with me. Thank you for Tweeting and FB messaging. Thank you for cards and calls and prayers and cares and thank you for the love.

How has someone loved you recently?

 

Death by GPS, part I

The girls and I traveled, along with my mom and sister, to Dallas this weekend for a girly getaway. On the way home, we turned to the GPS to get us back on the road. “Nancy,” our GPS, kept trying to get us on a highway blocked by large orange barrels and flashing lights.

Nancy continued recalculating, instructing us to “when possible, take a left” and (maybe it was my imagination), but seemed to get more and more angry and insistent the farther away from her path we tread. It’s tempting to take the GPS as an authority, and just follow that route.

A few weeks ago, though, I read this piece on NPR, that discussed our over-reliance on GPS and the flaws in that trust, especially in dangerous locations, like Death Valley, which was so named because of a wagon-train’s ill-fated “shortcut.”

Some have found themselves on long-forgotten logging roads, desert paths, ice roads, and a few each year die because help doesn’t find them in time.

Many people have been misdirected by their GPS systems because of over-reliance on the map, and as Korzybski says, “the map is not the territory.”  The green tree icons are merely representations of reality, a cheap simulation of the richness of nature.

‘Somebody had a map, and somebody said, this is a faster way to get to the gold fields,’ Callagan says. ‘Deep down back in the brain, the common sense says, you know, this is not the wisest thing.’

That’s what makes the difference between our trip home yesterday and dying on an unmarked road in Death Valley: common sense.

I’ve got this idea that following a GPS to your death (turning directly off a bridge into icy waters) is a lot like those who elevate Scripture above the Spirit.

“The Letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” – 2 Cor 3:6

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Legalism is following the map, not being guided through the territory. You can use the Scripture as a guide and SHOULD use it as a guide, but call it common sense, call it intuition, call it what it is, the SPIRIT should discern the best way to proceed.

Look for Part II of Death by GPS next week.

Has your GPS ever led you astray?

How do you know it’s the Spirit and not the Letter that guides you?

Picking a favorite baby

Indulge me in a hypothetical, please. Let’s say that upon your death (in the next 30 days), your assets will be liquidated, everything sold and all the money could be given to only one of your children. Which one inherits the green? Is it the eldest? the youngest? the poorest? the one with the most sense? the boy? the girl? the one you love best?

As a parent, I can tell you that choosing a favorite child is frowned upon. I don’t like to see other people do it and I’d be hard-pressed to choose one of my children over the other, BUT, as my uncle pointed out this weekend, it’s easier to choose a favorite from among your friends’ children.

For instance, I teach at a day care. My oldest daughter is in my class, and while she’s obviously my favorite, there are kids I would take home with me instantly, and ones I’m fine seeing go home with their parents at day’s end. That’s not to say I don’t like them, or wish them ill, they just aren’t my favorite.

When you don’t love children like a parent, it’s easier to see their faults and strengths objectively. There is no objectivity with my own children. I can still see faults and strengths, but over that is a layer of unconditional love.

When we join the family of God, we’re not just anyone’s children, we are God’s children. He doesn’t play favorites with inheritance. No matter who we are, what sins lie in our past, what malice we previously held in our hearts, we still gain the same kingdom.

We are heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ. He isn’t going to divide his grace equally, he gives it to each of us fully.

But we aren’t God, so, how would you pick a favorite baby?

You don’t have to have children to play. You don’t have to be serious. What ultimate method  you devise for making that hypothetical choice easier?

 

 

Guest post slumber party- Dating Talk

Today, you’ll find me at Mary Kathryn‘s place, Beauty for Ashes. I’m guest posting as part of her blogiversary party all month long. MK is a single girl, so I thought I would give her a weird dating story for the occasion.

To all the men I've liked before

I’ve dated some quirky guys (and to tell you the truth, they’ve dated AT LEAST one quirky girl…). There was the one who constantly warned me I was going to get fat, the one who turned out to be gay, the one who joined the military and didn’t tell me…. but the quirk of the guy I describe in this guest post might take the cake.

So, join me over there, for this, Say My Name, a blog post about dating, getting a call, and disaster.

Let Him Lead

My tiny dancers got to waltz, two-step and hip hop their shoes off at a wedding on Friday. At first, they danced with one another.

Then, they danced with me.

My mother is not the world's best photog...

**I deeply regret that what I’m about to relay has no photographic evidence: Then, as I was sashaying around the floor with my ultra-handsome date (who felt compelled to go buy something in brown because I said my dress was brown, but it actually looked gray- sorry, Mr.!), I felt a bit of a blur rush past me.

That blur, as it turned out, was Mia, dancing on past me with A BOY! He’d asked her to be his partner and everything. I’d noticed him before, getting his little boy groove on, which was adorable, but dancing with my daughter…

I didn’t have to worry long. Before my green eyes got misty, I could see that even the twinkle-toed Casanova was no match for my bossy baby. She ushered him around the floor like Jack Lemmon’s character in Some Like It Hot.

I leaned over to her after I dragged my placatory partner to the square of floor occupied by the pushy princess and her prince. In her ear, I whispered, “let HIM lead now!”

Ever let something completely hypocritical fly out of your mouth and not catch it until hours or days later? Guilty!

Every instance of not letting HIM lead me came rushing back when I reviewed the scene. Every time I tried a spin or step or flourish without God’s direction, I may have looked like I was dancing, but I was really struggling for control with my infinitely more assured partner.

The steps of a righteous (wo)man are ordered of the Lord – Psalm 37:23

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It’s true that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but backward, and in heels, but, it was choreographed, precise, determined and she trusted where he led. I want to be like Ginger, letting God lead me in the steps he’s ordered.

What’s your go-to dance move?

As a “dance” partner… how well do you follow?

Sleepless over Sprechstimme

Has God ever kept you up late at night, or awoken you from a deep sleep with a thought? It happens to me, sometimes, and it’s always motivational. First, it motivates me to prayer, then, once I’ve discerned the meaning, motivates me to action. Recently, I awoke with one word, not my one-word for 2011: green,  but Sprechstimme.

** This is an illusion**

 

It’s an operatic term, one I haven’t given thought to since approximately 1998, when I competed in Academic Decathlon and we studied opera for our musical selections. Sprechstimme means to approximate speech by messing with the tonal composition of song, there is lilt and rhythm, according to the free online dictionary, but not precise pitches.You can hear an example, here.

Tone markings are something like suggestions. You might sing higher or lower than the note on the page, singing around it, but not on target.

Why in the world would God speak to me through composers like Schoenberg? After prayer and seeking, I am starting to get it. I’ve been getting close, but not hitting the mark.

I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Philippians 3:14.

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It reminds me of a creative writing term: verisimilitude. Verisimilitude means to add enough details to create the semblance of truth in fiction.  Verisimilitude, like trompe l’oeil, it just a picture that stands in the place of reality. It’s an approximation of the truth, but not the Truth at all.

I don’t want to be missing the mark. I want to be hitting the target, shooting for accuracy, following what is written, not playing around with the pitch of my life.

I still need to follow this thought farther. I still need to seek discernment on this matter in my life. What is God trying to tell me? What areas of my life represent simulation and how can I strike the right note?

I wish  there were Spiritual decoder rings available, so I could move some dials and voila! the meaning to my late-night epiphanies would appear! For now, I’m going to be watching my life closely to make sure that my life isn’t a cheap imitation, or even an exquisite imitation, but the true mark.

Have you ever been woken up by a Spiritual message?

What word sounds just too, too, weird if you repeat it over and over?

 

 

Amelia Explains it All: Church Diversity

Mia is talking BIG WORDS today and one word, in particular, she recently learned as I’ve been blogging Scott Williams’ book Church Diversity. She’s also overly fond of a creepy doll she was given. Don’t ask, just watch.

As many of you pointed out, I’m losing my touch on my One Word for 2011, which is green. To be a good sport, I wore a green shirt for this video. Ha!

Your practical solutions to the problem of church diversity probably won’t compare to Mia’s, but… what are they?

 

Rocks will cry: A boobie post

Let’s talk boobies for a moment, shall we? If you’ll recall, I’ve talked about how breasts are precious in God’s sight,  before, but there’s more. In addition, guys, I know how much you hate talking about boobs or reading about them, but this is different, so, keep reading, ok?

A picture of boobies

China is developing a group of cows to replace boobies! You may or may not have “herd” it here, first, but here’s more information.

I’m not a breastfeeding freak, the kind that militantly demand that everyone planning on formula feeding their infant is deranged and abusive (and I’ve met some like that), but I did nurse both of my girls- one for 11 months, one for 17 months. They were not EBF (exclusively breast fed), but got enough of mommy milk to say they were breastfed, certainly*

So, even though I’m not a rampant opinion-giver on the issue of breastfeeding, I say… I think the cow business is bovine, I mean, asinine. Our bodies, our boobies, were made to feed children. Udders were made to feed… baby cows.**

I have no problem with cow udders supplying me with milk – I drink a ton, but, cow proteins are not easily digested by tiny little digestive systems, thus why infants should not be given cow milk.

From the article, the genetically modified milk is “80% the same as human breastmilk.”That’s close, but I’m afraid, close doesn’t always cut it.

My research has found that we share 96% of our DNA with chimps, 60% with mice and 25% with daffodils. With those kinds of numbers, maybe we should stop milking cows and start milking apes? Close is not equal.

I believe what bothers me most is that we’re looking for a substitute, a simulation, because it’s something we don’t want to do ourselves. Even with milk banks, breast pumps, storage systems, heck, even wet nurses, we’re looking to cows to feed our babies.

Now, you might ask, how are boobies like worship? (I know that’s what you were thinking!)

Our worship is organic, comes from within us, overflowing from a full breast in love. Jesus said that if the people would not worship and kept silent, the rocks would cry out (Luke 19:40). Substitutions will be made, but God desires the worship of his people, not the moss-covered green rocks or cracked earth!

Humans won’t feed their children human breastmilk, which is better for mother, baby, the environment, the economy and the bond between human beings, and so we must look to cows. When we refuse to worship, the rocks, like engorged milk-filled breasts, will pour forth praise in our stead.

What’s your favorite flavor or type of milk?

How much would you pay for a gallon of breastmilk from a cow?

*I realize this may disqualify me to speak on the subject in the eyes of many

** Click at your own risk, but I thought it was apt and funny.

Diversity WhoDunIt

Each Monday this summer, I’m blogging Scott Williams’ book, Church Diversity, because I won the book from Michael Perkins’ blog and because I’m puzzled by the phenomenon of segregated Sundays.

As you know if you read here regularly at MessiahMom, I love a good mystery, especially old English country house mysteries by Agatha Christie or Georgette Heyer. In those formulaic mysteries, the body is found in a locked room, everyone present at the weekend party is a suspect, weapons abound, etc. The reader’s task is to discover WhoDunIt before the inspector or amateur sleuth in the novel.

As Scott Williams does in his 2nd chapter of Church Diversity, readers must also face the “brutal facts” of the case. If we are to solve the case of missing diversity, let’s look at those brutal facts.

*According to Mark DeYmaz, pastor of Mosaic, The Multi-Ethnic church, in his podcast, 92.5% of churches are segregated by race and class.

*Curtis DeYoung found that only about 5% of churches are fully integrated (meaning, made of up of ethnic groups that constitute more than 20% of the population of the largest ethnic group).

*Sociologist Michael Emerson found that non-denominational megachurches are much more likely to be racially diverse (and otherwise diverse) than smaller, tradition-bound congregations.

These are the facts of the case. Let’s look at our cast of suspects. People investigating church diversity often point to THESE to identify the cause. So, Who is Kaiser Soze?

Pastor: People like to blame the pastor when their church doesn’t look like they believe it should. Pastors are expected to welcome visitors and drop ’round member’s houses and make hospital visits and create, share and execute the vision of the church. Pressure much? No wonder pastor burnout is a problem!

Sure, Pastors can be a contributing factor in church diversity. Like attracts like. Is he or she reaching out to minorities and actively pursuing diversity? What about Staff?

Staff: Associate ministers, Music Directors, Youth Directors, Church Secretary, Custodial staff, Nursery Director… I’m not asking churches to make hiring or calling decisions based on race, but given that our communities are diverse, it would stand to reason that there would be SOME diversity on staff. That’s something to pray about, yes?At the same time, can we encourage a diverse congregation with the staff we have?

Ushers: Some day, I’ll write about how a rogue usher almost convinced me never to go back to my former church. Ushers are the front lines of greeting in many churches, but they might also be serving as gatekeepers to determine who is in and who is Auf Wiedersehen (pardon my Project Runway ref). For instance, there was the story of the special needs child whose family was escorted out on Easter Sunday, to help create a “distraction free” worship environment.

Congregation: Couldn’t the people in the pews be inviting a variety of their friends and neighbors to church? Shouldn’t the people in the pews have reason to believe their church is open and welcoming to all races, ages, economies, abilities, backgrounds… what about those sex offenders?

Honestly, and I’m about to ruin a great Christie novel for you, so, turn away if you don’t like spoilers… I think that lack of diversity in the church isn’t a matter of WhoDunIt, but, like Murder on the Orient Express, we have ALL contributed to the segregation of congregations across the nation.

Our weapons were apathy, omission, snide comments, cliquishness, nepotism, risk aversion, myopia and distrust. Those weapons are not God’s weapons, they belong to the enemy.

This week, I’m asking you to pray for our churches. Pray for a destruction of the weapons that are so easily available to us.

What weapons would you like to see destroyed?

What’s your favorite mystery novel?