Chasing After Me

My House

Home is not what my house becomes when people are made comfortable there. Home  isn’t even a destination. Home is bigger than that.

Home is where we’re most vulnerable, but where we’re also the safest.

Home is a where we’re naked and where our dirty laundry piles up, but also where we become refreshed and beautiful.

My Home

Home is where we feel safe crying, but also where someone will be to wipe our tears.

Home is where we’re comfortable being all of who we are, but where we have a family encouraging us to follow our hearts, to take risks and help us grow.

Home is where we love and serve others.

Home is where community flourishes.

Home is where love abounds.

Home is something we experience…a state of mind…a community of friends…for me, home is a made possible by grace and powered by Love. A Love that overflows to, I hope, help others experience HOME.

Empty buckets.

We all deal with them from time-to-time. It doesn’t mean we’re sad or depressed or unhappy. It just means we’re not putting any fuel in our tanks.

For some, fuel is solitude.

For some, fuel is accomplishments.

For some, fuel is adventure.

For some, fuel is exercise.

For some, fuel is people.

It’s important to know what your fuel is. I only know because it took me 35 years to figure out that my tank runs on people.

What happens when you don’t know what your fuel is? You might get depressed. You might get crabby. You likely won’t feel fulfilled.

And, everyone has a different kind of fuel.

The thoughts are front and center for me this week because I was a task machine…got a ton of work done. But, I decided to work from home. And neither my husband, nor roommates were home. For me, one day of solitude is good. Two days gets exhausting. Three days makes me restless. Four days makes me crabby. Five days makes me hypersensitive. And, pretty soon, I find myself in a spiral of not wanting to be around anyone, yet knowing that people are my fuel.

My guess is that the cycle is similar for anyone who doesn’t know what their fuel is…or doesn’t take steps to fill it.

Remember, we all need fuel…and fuel isn’t a crutch. Your fuel is probably tied to the strengths of who you are as a human being.

Sponges will come along and dry up your fuel. And that’s to be expected. But we always want to be sure there’s something in the bucket…otherwise we’ll be left bone dry…with nothing left to give.

Fuel up, my friends.

I had a moment this weekend when I realized that the most in-depth conversations I have, I have with myself.

Seriously.

Admit it. Right now you’re picturing some woman in her car or walking through a store having a robust conversation…with no one. You know, the one where you’re convinced has a bluetooth device attached to her ear because there is no way she could really be talking to herself like that.

For the record, that’s not me.

However, if you could see what really goes on in my brain, you’d think even stranger things.

And, I’m convinced I’m not alone.

Constantly playing out scenarios, conversations, possibilities, ideas…nonstop.

That’s an awful lot of internal conversation for an extrovert.

And it’s sad.

When you talk with yourself, you really don’t have much in the line of diverse perspective to offer. When you talk with yourself, you can’t offer compassion or validation that really means anything. When you talk with yourself, you’re not getting any wiser, smarter or more enlightened.

That’s depressing.

So why do I do that again?

I mean, isn’t your life richer when you’re able to share your soul with others? Or share it with a higher being?

My challenge to myself this week is to stop the conversations with myself and share them with someone else. I’ve caught myself uncountable times this week. In some cases, I’ve shared the conversations with my closest friends. In other cases, it made sense for me to talk with God about them.

And, suddenly, I feel like I can breathe. Suddenly I feel like I can face challenges. Suddenly, I feel like I can let things go. Suddenly I see more opportunity.

We’re relational beings…why fight it?

“My name is Natalie. N-A-T-A-L-I-E. I’m four-years-old. What’s your name?”

“It’s Dawn. D-A-W-N.”

“Hi Dawn! I’m going to call you ‘friend.’”

And she did.

In the hour I spent with that sweet little girl, she called me “friend” probably 50 times…every single time she spoke with me.

I guess if you need a quick reminder of what really matters you should just ask a homeless four-year-old.

She didn’t care about task lists, finances, work, material items or even family drama. She cared about relationships.

Relationships built on a Jesus kind of love. Maybe Natalie didn’t know it was a Jesus kind of love. But I have no doubt.

You see…Jesus loved me through Natalie tonight. Natalie decided to be my friend. She didn’t know me, but it didn’t matter. She smiled at me. She hugged me. She held my hand. She wiped chocolate from my sleeve. She carried my dirty dishes to the kitchen. She introduced me to her family. She shared a million stories with me.

When you think about it, it’s totally backwards. You see, Natalie is one of eight kids. Her family has been homeless since October. She and her family live out of their car and at shelters. She was excited about getting a pair of shoes today that actually fit. Her entire family has to believe in the goodness of people and the goodness of God working through people to see hope for tomorrow.

I was supposed to be there serving her! Yet, she wanted to be a friend to me. Take care of me. Love me.

She probably never will know how much I needed that friendship tonight. She probably never will know that she made a permanent imprint on my heart. She probably never will know that Jesus loved me through her.

Her unconditional love reminded me of the importance of letting what Jesus pours into me, pour into the lives of others…a love that is unconditionally compassionate…a love that smiles at strangers…a love that genuinely cares…a love not impeded by worry or selfishness.

Thank you, Natalie. Thank you for becoming a piece of my heart. Thank you for reminding me what really matters.

And, God, thank you for Natalie.

* * *

Natalie and her family just found out that they’ve got housing. They’ll be moving into a newly remodeled apartment within two weeks. Thank God. You should have seen how excited Natalie’s mom was…seeing her excitement nearly brought me to tears.

The Family Place is a day shelter serving homeless families in St. Paul, Minn. The majority of their guests are children. Forty-seven percent of the homeless in St. Paul are children and teenagers. Often, their families have lost their housing because of medical emergencies, job losses and even landlord defaults and condemnations. They’ve unexpectedly found themselves in a new and difficult world, a world where hope and dignity are pushed aside to make room for daily survival. My church, Bloom, partners with this organization to serve their guests without agenda.