Lessons From Dorothy

Someone told me this past weekend that I reminded them of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. Like the little girl with the ruby slippers, a tornado ripped through our life, picked up our little family, and dropped us smack-dab in the middle of unfamiliar territory. Unlike the destructive Kansas storm, our tornado was not an act of nature, but rather was human caused.

Dorothy wasn't always comfortable on her yellow brick road, and many times she was afraid. But in the end, she learned valuable lessons and was grateful for the experience.

I want to say that I will forever appreciate the lessons I learned and the new friendships I forged during the oft-difficult journey. That, however, doesn't change the fact that our tornado was spawned by careless and thoughtless human beings. Our story is a cautionary tale to be sure.

I've watched as news of the Pennsylvania Sate sex scandal has dominated the news for the past few months. So many people - innocent people - have been caught up in the wake left by the evil actions (allegedly) of one sick man. My heart aches for the victims, their families, other coaches, students, and unsuspecting fans. I'm reminded, once again, that as we travel through life, we are like vessels on the sea. We leave behind wakes and waves that affect everyone with whom we share the journey.

Our devastating tornado hit when three people - three so-called friends - made assumptions, told lies, and stole the reputation I'd worked hard to build. I have no idea what motivates people to gossip and lie with the purpose of undermining another person. I do know, however, that psychologists will tell you that when they see this behavior, it most often stems from jealousies, insecurities, or just plain vengeance.

Our children were 11, 12, and 14 when we were literally kicked out of the church in which they'd been dedicated and raised. We'd made the decision to attend the same church as Tom's family so our children could be surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and an untold number of extended family members. They loved Sunday School, kids choir, and the many and varied mid-week activities. I worked at the church, volunteered in a number of areas, and used my gifts and talents to begin a ministry through which I shared my heart.

And then the tornado hit.

I was accused of saying things I never said and doing things I never did. The fact I worked for the theatre was particularly frowned upon. Then, my 14 year old son was "too hard" for the Junior High pastor to deal with. I was told to take my family and leave the church we loved.

"It's time your family goes."

The world as we knew it changed. A tornado ripped it apart, and we were caught up in the wake left by actions, deeds, and the bad choices of others.

Even if the accusations were true, where was the grace and forgiveness that Christians preach about? Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. But extend that same grace to another wretch? No way!

All my children knew was that they were no longer allowed to see any of their church friends. I tried to be strong, but overnight I lost every single friend with whom I'd shared fourteen years! The security of relationship was gone and I was dropped in the middle of an unfamiliar world.

Our church wasn't just a building with a threshold we crossed once or twice a week, it was our family, our support, our friends….a place called home. I cried every day for a whole year. It would be three years before I could drive by the church without crying.

I would never have betrayed my friends as they betrayed me. I don't think they'll ever understand the grave impact they had on my family.

Is it any wonder our children made the choice to walk away from church, from Christianity, and from God? Like me, our kids were left with empty holes and deep sadness. For a time they used drugs to fill those empty places. Why would they look to God or church when it was God's people - The Church - that caused excruciating pain?

I looked for forgiveness and grace from the people I'd been raised to believe would be the first to extend it, but I didn't find it there. I did find it, however, in the most unexpected of places.

I found unconditional love when it was showered on my daughter by the rehab counselors - most of whom belonged to a religious sect I'd been taught to fear. If I was Dorothy, then they were the lion that turned out to be our healer and protector. We found grace in the person of a tough parole officer who was a tin man with a heart of compassion. Parents of prodigals are like scarecrows - we stand watch over our children, but are sometimes unable to scare away the dark forces that come pecking away at their very souls. We are smart enough to know we can't do it on our own, and I'm blessed to now be surrounded by amazingly wise scarecrow parents.

Yes, I guess I'm a bit like Dorothy. I woke up in a scary strange land surrounded by people whose words and ways I didn't understand. I was initially alone in the dark place, but along the road I met people who showed me the way and who dared to walk with me. When the yellow brick road brought Tom and I back home, we found that no one else would ever really know what we'd seen or what we'd been through. Not even Uncle Henry or Auntie Em. There's no way we'll ever find the words to help them understand.

I know the advantages of moving forward and never looking back, but I implore you to stop occasionally, look behind you, and take note of all you're leaving in your wake. Are you leaving paths of peace, love, and comfort, or are you cutting deep swaths of drama, gossip fueled angst, hurt feelings, broken hearts, wounded trust, physical pain, or destroyed reputations?

Please, please take a moment to reflect back - back on the lives you've touched. Are people better for having known you? Are friends and strangers stronger, healthier, happier, and braver because of the moments, hours, days, or years they spent sharing life with you?

Are there people like us in your past - human beings you could've been kinder to, shown grace and compassion for, or perhaps could've stopped to help now and again? Did your gossip - no matter how true you thought your words might have been - cause someone else to judge a person harshly without benefit of the whole picture?

Please take a moment to look back. It's never too late to help clean up from a tornado you might have spawned. It's never to late to say, I'm sorry, Please forgive me, or I was wrong. Learn from our long and painful journey. We are a cautionary tale from which I pray others learn lessons about grace, compassion, and forgiveness.

I'll take a moment to look back.

How's The Little Missionary?

My friend's granddaughter got into a bit of trouble last week. At first she was disappointed and had no idea what to say to her frustrated and angry daughter – the girl's mama. Then....she thought of me.

Not long ago I was talking with my friend about my own little girl. In seven short years she's gone from troubled teen-ager to South African missionary.

So, Grandma encouraged her daughter with these words, "Your little girl is being prepped to be out in the mission field."

And now whenever my friend talks to her daughter she asks, "how's the little missionary?"

I love this story :)

All things DO work together for good.

Shopping With ME-Monsters

I might never share a word of personal conversation with my fellow Winco grocery shoppers, but I learn more about them during those excursions than I ever wanted to know.

Here are some of my observations:

Some of you are ME-monsters. You live and shop in ME-ville and you don't know the meaning of "share the road". You drive your super-sized shopping carts just as you drive your ginormous SUVs–like you're the only one on the road/aisle.

Is it really so hard to be courteous? Don't park your cart in the middle of the aisle then step away to search for your favorite brand of mayonnaise. You wouldn't stop your car in the middle of the street when you want to check out a roadside stand. Keep moving or get out of the way.

Okay, sidebar about the size of the shopping carts. It seems these days that everything is super-sized. Every once in a while I go into a store with old-school carts, and they are tiny. I mean, they are oh-look-at-the-toy-shopping-carts small. Back in the day, burgers were smaller, fries came in little packages, store buggies were diminutive, and fewer people were morbidly obese. Perhaps there's a connection *gasp*.

Back at Winco. Listen, when you dip your dirty hands in the bulk bins and stuff your face with snack booty, you are stealing. Yes...STEALING! It's also gross when you lick the orange residue from your fingers after eating cheese curls, then grab a handful of bulk animal cookies and leave behind your germs and boogies for the rest of us.

Oh, and parking your kids at the bulk bins while you shop is a very dangerous habit. I can't believe you encourage shoplifting AND leave your child unattended. Yes, I'm the mean woman who told your son he was stealing and that he should go find his mom.

The motorized shopping carts are NOT toys, and the store aisle is not your personal raceway.

I watch some of you move through the aisles painfully and slowly. You lean on your cart as you push it along because your legs want to buckle under the enormous weight of your body. I look in your carts and I see boxed and canned food, which are full of salt, preservatives, artificial flavors, and empty calories. You buy crackers, cookies, white bread, and sugar-laden sodas. The fresh fruits and vegetables are not as "fresh" as they could be, but we are blessed to have access to inexpensive healthy food. We can all make better choices.

Next time you go grocery shopping, leave the ME-monster at home. Keep moving, or get out of the way.

Tap Dancing to South Africa

I've written before about being chastised by the church for working in the theatre. I was even denied reconciliation because of my connection to the entertainment genre'.

My theatre family, however, has always been quick to recognize a need and to respond. I could not love and appreciate you more!

When my daughter was missing, it was my actor friends who saw to it that hundreds of "missing child" posters were plastered all over the city. Now Giana will be teaching tap dance lessons to South African orphans–and theatre moms and kids have once again shown their love and support. They are my shoe heroes!

My dear theatre family, you have blown me away with your resourcefulness and generosity. Together, you donated over 40 pair of new and used tap shoes (and another 20+ pair of jazz and ballet shoes).

So, to Lori, Lynn, Melissa, Tina, Sonja, Nadine, Collin, and Joseph, thank you so much for your donation of time, resources, and SHOES! Your kindness reaches to the other side of the world to the hearts and feet of God's kids in South Africa. How cool is that!

Integrity

On Sunday Pastor Dale taught on Daniel – a man of consistent and continual integrity. I've been thinking about integrity ever since.

That word was used a whole bunch when Giana was in rehab. The girls were encouraged to hold one another accountable by simply saying the word "integrity" when they suspected a teammate of being less than honest.

When Gia got home from rehab, I remember a time when I suspected her of lying to me. I looked at her and said, "Integrity". "Oh Mom," she retorted, "I heard that word every day for seven months. Do me a favor and find another word." I've always loved that she feels free to speak her mind around me.

in·teg·ri·ty

  [in-teg-ri-tee]

noun

1.

adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty.

2.

the state of being whole, entire, or undiminished: to preserve the integrity of the empire.

3.

a sound, unimpaired, or perfect condition: the integrity of a ship's hull.

We often say that integrity is being the same person – whether we're in public, or alone in our own home. As parents we strive to teach and model integrity. I remember being in a store one time when I saw a mom with a small child in tow. She was attempting to cash a personal check. The clerk was trying to tell her that her account had been flagged. Apparently she had, at one time, written a check that bounced. Hey, it happens.

The mom said, "My check is good. I'm a mother – I wouldn't lie." It occurred to me that she had the opportunity to model integrity for her child. Perhaps her check WAS good, but she had to pay the consequences of a mistake she'd made in the past.

As parents, I think we sometimes bully our children into becoming adults who lack honest integrity. Consider this scenario: One of your three kids leaves an artful masterpiece on your leather sofa, and they used a permanent marker for a brush! You march into their playroom and at the top of your lungs you bellow, "Who did this?"

The children cower into the corner.

"Okay, whoever destroyed my couch will tell the truth, or I'll call Daddy and we'll cancel our trip to Disneyland! You have five minutes to confess."

The kids discuss and commiserate and accuse. Perhaps they're all guilty, or maybe there's only one budding Picasso in the group. For whatever reason, however, the child with the artistic (albeit destructive) bent fails to come forward. So, one of the innocent kids throws up his hands, and in exasperation proclaims, "I'll say I did it. Geez! I don't know about you, but I WANT to go to Disneyland."

I was that kid. I took responsibility for a lot of stuff I didn't need to take ownership of. I naively believed that the truth would eventually win out. But here's the problem – I set myself up to be the fall guy. Even when I was innocent, I willingly took the blame, and others were eager to dump it on me.

Several years ago, a boss wrongly accused me. He was sure of my misdeeds because others had told him it was so.

"Why," I inquired, "do you believe them and not me?"

"Because," he replied, "they are people of integrity."

But wait, didn't the fact that these people came to him with gossip automatically mean they LACKED integrity?

Instead of loudly proclaiming my innocence, my naivete' once again prevailed, and I believed the truth would eventually find it's way free. I would be exonerated. It didn't happen that way. I had been groomed to take responsibility – even when it wasn't mine to take.

Look, I'm not perfect. I've made tons of mistakes. I don't hide my skeletons, I dance with them. I take ownership of my wrongs and I've finally learned to stand up to bullies. And, like Daniel, I've been thrown in the lions' den. But guess what? I survived.

I believe having integrity means acknowledging when I've messed up, absolutely. But, does a person of integrity need to carry the burden of someone else's weaknesses and lies?

Hmmmm.... It's food for thought, isn't it.

Makeup, Makeup!

As Tom and I arrived in Lake Tahoe last week, we stopped by the local Safeway to buy a few groceries so we could cook at the cabin. We'd left home that morning later than we'd hoped and traffic moved slowly. It had been a long, hot several hours.

I rarely wear makeup when we travel, and this day was no exception. I mean, no one's lookin' at me except Tom–and he's seen me looking far worse.

So, there we are–standing in the snack aisle looking at microwave popcorn options and I hear, "Hi Liz!" I slowly turn my head as a thousand thoughts run through my mind. Please oh please oh please let there be another Liz standing nearby. Nope...I was the one! The married couple standing to my left go to my mom's church. I hadn't seen them in many years, but I recognized them, of course. Then the man called out, "Hey Gregg, come here."

Around the corner walks a guy I hadn't seen since high school. Worse, he's a guy I once had a crush on - and me without makeup! Aaaaahhhhh!!!!

Gregg introduced me to his lovely wife, and I introduced Tom. They were in Safeway for the exact reason that we were, and they too had just arrived in town. What are the odds? We chatted a bit and wished one another a great vacation.

This morning I was at the gym. Call me crazy, but I don't wear makeup there either! An adorable older woman (who was wearing makeup) stepped off the treadmill and said, "You've got a twin that works at Roger Rocka's Dinner Theatre."

"Well", I said, "I think I'm her. But, you probably don't recognize me without makeup." She's a fan of the theatre and she loved The Dixie Swim Club.

You know, there was a time when I rarely farded (look it up) before running errands. I'm thinkin' those days are over. I'm almost 50 years old and, well...I look better when I glam up a bit.

From now on, if you're looking for me at the gym–I'll be the one wearing lipstick, mascara, and under-eye concealer.

Quicksand of Pride

Oh how sad it is that so many relationships get and stay stuck. They get mired down in the quicksand that is pride, jealousy, unforgiveness, and misunderstanding.

People move on, but relationships can remain interminably stuck.

I wrote a post several months ago about bullies. A friend of mine was buying gas when an almost unrecognizable man from his past walked up to him and apologized for the way he bullied my friend in junior high school.

My friend was relieved and grateful for the man’s kind words. Almost immediately, the old ugly relationship became unstuck. Two grown men were finally able to heal the brokenness and send the old hurts packing.

I recently saw one of my old bullies. We’re grown women – she’s a grandmother – but the relationship is stuck in a muddy swamp of judgmental condemnation. I’m courteous when I’m around her, but I can still see her cold eyes and her gnarled finger pointing at me from across the table during a conversation many years ago.

You’re weak.

You’re not a good friend.

You’re jealous.

God has graciously allowed my family and me to walk through incredible fires. I didn’t come out unscathed, but I learned many things about myself. I discovered I’m stronger than I could ever have imagined and I’m a generous and steadfast friend.

I learned that when we unfairly accuse others of jealousies and hidden sins, we’re actually revealing more about the state of our own hearts. When we point fingers at others, we shine spotlights on our own darkness.

I recently spent a bit of time with another old friend. It’s been years since I had a real conversation with him and the friendship ended badly when he called me a liar. While he and I are both cordial, the relationship is stuck.

Does he still believe I lied? Does he see me for who I really am? Does he care about what my family has been through—the miracles we’ve seen, or the life lessons we can share with the world?

I never lied to him – not ever.

People grow, change, move, mature, and evolve, but pride keeps relationships stuck.

So, how do we find our way out of the gunk and goop that keeps relationships in a bad place? Well, we don’t “find” our way out of it. We FIGHT our way out. We have to confront, tell the truth, chase away misunderstandings, and break the chains of pride and preconceived judgments so that we can be free.

I’m exhausted from trying to single handily pull relationships out of quicksand. I’m not even sure why it’s important to me, when it’s painfully obvious that it’s not important to those who insist on remaining buried in the past.

That’s not true. I know why it’s important to me. I value what once was, and losing you still hurts.