We don't know what to do with love

If you're looking for some solid theological statement or concrete point that will forever change your life, you should probably go read somewhere else.  I would suggest the Bible. This post is going to be full of musings that may or may not lead to something useful because that's how I think things through.  I'm like one of those fox hounds that runs in circles for a long time before smelling out a trail that leads somewhere, or a gold miner who wanders all over a mountain before hitting paydirt.  So consider yourself warned.
At my church, me and my friends like to have what we call Beautiful Wars.  It usually goes something like this:
"Mary is the most beautiful person on the planet."
"No, that's clearly not true, because we can all look right over there and see that Kay is really the most beautiful person on the planet!"
"Pffffft, no way!  You all just think I'm beautiful because you're glowing with gorgeousness yourselves, and I'm reflecting it back at you."
Winner is whoever has the last word and comes up with the cleverest comeback.  Then we all laugh and hug and go get some more of Andy's impossibly tasty soup. 
I've tried several times to introduce Beautiful Wars to my school, but it usually ends with a disbelieving stare and stammered, "Ohh, um, thanks, uh, you're sweet."  And then there's the can-I-really-keep-the-borrowed-pencil look, the are-you-serious-I-can-share-your-lunch look, the do-you-really-do-think-I'm-smart look, and the do-you-honestly-like-me-and-enjoy-being-around-me look. 
I think it's a little strange that all these disbelieving looks come from people who are generally preoccupied with other peoples' opinions of them and getting others to like them.  I've watched my friends feed off the security acceptance gives them and watched them shatter without it. But it seems like when I genuinely like something about them, they can't understand or accept it.  I'm curious why.  I can understand the need for acceptance and the insecurity that naturally comes when people are cut off from an infinite source of, well, everything good.  I can understand why we go to each other to try and slake our dry-soul thirst.  So when love is given to us, why are we unable to accept it?  Why can't we accept the thing we spend our lives searching for? 
Maybe it's because we're afraid of coming off as arrogant.  Maybe we think saying "thank you" will make it seem like we think we're the coolest people in the history of ever, like we think we're entitled to kindness when deep down we know we're not.  That could be part of it. 
Or maybe we're just so lost, our compasses pointing so far from True North, that we don't recognize the presence of God as home and we're thrown off when Grace and Love come near.  Maybe we've become so accustomed to loneliness and darkness that we're befuddled when we encounter light and friendship. 
Maybe it's a combination of everything.  Maybe I'm tracking in the wrong direction, panning on the wrong mountain. 
I really don't know.
Thoughts?

Carpets, Chaos, and Community

8 years of hundreds of feet (both human and animal), spilled salsa, dropped popcorn, upset grape juice and dirt samples from around the country are detrimental to the health of a carpet.  And an unhealthy carpet makes my allergic-to-dust-and-dust-mites mother sneeze, and so, while King Soopers does have a great deal on buying Kleenex in bulk, my dad gave my mom linoleum flooring for Christmas (romantic, right?).  For the last few days we have been hard at work moving the two couches, TV, bookshelves, dining table, computer desk, and other furniture from the main floor to the basement, and cooking portable meals that can be munched without sitting in chairs. 

In other words, we have created the perfect environment for disaster.  Our family of ten is confined to an even smaller living space than usual, and both my parents are preoccupied with laying down the flooring as safely, cleanly, and quickly as possible.  Tempers are a wee bit explosive right now.

I’m naturally a people person.  I love being with people for extended periods of time and anyone will tell you that I have no problems relating to, talking with, and befriending almost every person I meet (to include hippies in Manitou, cashiers at Wal-Mart, kids at playgrounds, waiters in fancy restaurants, Portuguese tourists in Garden of the Gods, and Mennonite farmers in Canyon City).  But when I’m at home, I like to calm down, make myself some tea or hot chocolate, and sit on my bed with a book.  Alone.

That happens about once every year when the stars align and the rest of my family is gone.  When you have 7 little brothers and sisters, you don’t get much time to yourself.  Even my rare “quiet time” includes at least two little sisters sleeping or reading in other parts of our room.  Normally, it’s even interrupted by a barrage of Star Wars Lego weapons from my two rambunctious brothers.   

I love people…but on my terms when I’m ready for them. 

But recently (meaning for about the last year), I’ve been learning a lot about living in community and the priceless gift I have been given in my family. 

I got thinking about this last year on a rabbit trail when I was irritated with God for sending my best friend to college in Oregon (we can talk about that later).  I started daydreaming about how awesome it would be for all my friends and I to build a huge house in the mountains and all live together and have the same fun we always do all the time. 

Then God whispered it to me: Why do you think they’ll be any different than the family you have now?

It’s true.  “Familiarity breeds contempt,” one of my friends likes to say, and she’s right.  The more you get to know someone, the more you see their flaws.  It also doesn’t help at all that you’re broken yourself, and the more broken people you have in one place, the more opportunity there is for disaster…and miracle. 

I’d also asked God for a myriad of different heart changes – make me more patient, more loving, more understanding, more compassionate, more kindhearted, more gentle, more humble, and did I mention more patient?  Teach me how to mediate conflict between people and how to hold my tongue and how to lead people who won’t follow and how to love unconditionally and how to encourage and how to just be like You.  And give me opportunities to demonstrate You to people around me. 

Someone told me one time, “When you pray for patience, God doesn’t zap you with patience.  Instead, He gives you opportunities to practice patience.  So be careful what you pray for.”

Wow.  I am so slow sometimes.

I had in mind something “bigger” when I prayed for all these things – something that would involve a radical zapping and immediate, permanent change and something amazing and world-changing happening as a result.  Red flag of PRIDE?

I didn’t imagine that changes like these are built slowly out of attitudes and choices in the everyday, and that my family is the perfect place to learn.  God has a way of doing things backwards from what I would do.  Oddly enough, though, His ways always work out, while mine…that’s a bit of an uncomfortable subject. 

I realized that I had been viewing my family as annoying interruptions in my life because they frequently got in the way of what I needed to do and what I wanted to happen and what was convenient for me.  How low is that: to see people God created in His image as interruptions because they interfered with what I wanted?  Of course I said I loved them all and I would do anything for them…but my actions didn’t reflect that at all. 

That realization was really the only thing I needed.  It was easy to show love and appreciation afterwards, simply by playing Frisbee with my brother, or thanking my sister for making dinner, or listening to her favorite music instead of mine, or asking how she’s really doing, or even just telling her that I like her scarf. 

And it’s crazy how much I was missing.  Who knew that my family was so much fun?  Or that my sisters are so wise and would become my best friends?  Or that my brother has a non-gross sense of humor and likes watching Pixar movies with me?  Or that in middle school my dad got dared to ride a cow (you should ask him about that one, by the way)? 

So with that in mind, maybe this whole carpet-replacing thing is less a disaster and is really an opportunity for some unprecedented adventure.