Prostitute, Tax Man, LGBT, and Me

Innocently, the "Lady with Scissors" nonchalantly asks, "So, who are you?"  As I sit perched in the salon chair, I feel like a little hummingbird, with a hawk swooping overhead waiting to snag me for a snack.  Nothing comes out. My mind is suddenly on steroids zinging all over the place! No coherent answer seems to be able to form. I start to panic.  Temporary paralyzation is occurring.  I am sure the contorted look on my face is one that is not easily replicated.  

How could one simple question make my panties bunch up so quickly? The "Lady with Scissors" continues snipping my hair.  I can't blame her.  She is just trying to make small talk; to make the awkward silence pass.  Truly though, she is not interested.  So, why am I so paralyzed?  

An hour later, as I analyze this entire event, I am aware that I could've given her any number of simple, one or two word answers - Teacher, Librarian, Daughter, Mom, Friend, Spotted Zebra, etc., but on this day, in this moment, I just couldn't.  So I said nothing and sat there with salty, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. Instantly a selective mute. (Funny how quickly the haircut is over when silence sets in and the tears start.)

It isn't that I don't know who I am or what I have been called to do.  It is just that I suddenly realized that none of these "labels or titles" really matter in life and death.  So, I sit here asking myself some daunting questions, "How do I live without my own labels and without giving others labels?" "How do I love my neighbor without any of the labels?"  

My ponderance leads me to my most favorite, soft brown leather book. I love the way this book sits in my hands.  It lays open perfectly and brings life to my soul.  My eyes fall to the words, and I have my answer. 

I am to simply love the one who created me and love my "Neighbor". I pause for a moment to let it soak all the way in. He is implying that my "Neighbor" is EVERYONE else - no labels, just people.  

Jesus loved the lady prostitute that the religious elite were going to stone to death.  He protected her.  He ate with the tax collector, before the tax collector knew he would want his sins forgiven. He restored the soldier's ear, the one who had come to take him as a prisoner and to His death.  This is who Jesus called His "Neighbor".  This is who Jesus loved. This is who I am invited to love. His love has no "labels or titles". It is offered to EVERY human without judgement.

My Jesus is for the broken and hurting. Religion says, "Change first and then come."  Jesus says, "Come and let me love you."  He has invited me to be His hands and feet on this amazing adventure of loving people. He offers me the opportunity to love humans the way He loves me.  

So, when you see me hug and eat with my LGBT friends; or the prostitute who just "got off work"; or the biker lady that wanders in; or any other human, please know that I am loving them with the incredible love that has been extended to me and forever changed my life.  

Until We Chat Again,
The Plank-Eyed Girl

The Web of Scandalous Grace

Inhaling deeply and holding it inside my body, I realize that the air has changed.  I can feel it infiltrating every cell of my body.  It is not just cool, it is holding drops of liquid in it.  Moisture that this earth is thirsty for.  Moisture that my soul is longing for.  

My eyes can barely take in all the changes that have silently swept in while the blackness of night provided a covering.  The solid branches of the neighbor's ancient maple tree, relinquishing the magnificently colored leaves of it's cloak.  The sturdy towering sunflowers that now bend their heads and share their bounty with the creatures of the air.  The variegated, brightly

salmon, green pepper, and cauliflower colored pumpkins that now peek out from behind the foliage ready to give themselves for my pleasure.

Everything seems to be emptying itself for this new season.  My thoughts turn inward.  What might I release for others that would allow me to be changed?

The sun is peeking out from its eastern home.  It dances off the delicately woven structures that hang heavy with the morning dew.  

Their owners patiently wait for a gift of nourishment from the sky.  They are not particular.  The gift will be embraced and provide the  necessary nutrients to sustain life.  

It is in this moment, I realize that before me is one of the most amazing masterpieces I will ever have the gift of observing.  Hundreds of threads are interwoven to create a masterfully constructed residence.  Realizing that I am completely mesmerized by this and that many moments have slide by, it dawns on me that I live in a similar environment.   It is an invisible web of scandalous grace.  Each thread precisely placed by the giver of this generous grace.  Each point of overlap, a reinforcement of His mercy towards me.  Each anchor point, securely placed by His strong hands in the rough-hewn wood that He gave His life on.  May I never doubt that this Plank-Eyed Girl is securely held in the web of His scandalous grace.

As the night that has surrounded your soul is gently pulled back, what will you cradle in your soft hands to be offered back to your Creator for His purposes?  Will you let Him weave a web of His scandalous grace for you to live in? 

Here's my hand, let's walk together in His scandalous grace.  May you never walk alone.

~The Plank-Eyed Girl