Here it is, Christmas Eve, and I sit marveling at everything that has happened in the past two years since The Torch’s incorporation. The other day, somebody asked me what happens when we take to food truck out. I know the question was based on curiosity about the logistics of it all, but it caused me to ponder far deeper. A year ago, if somebody had posed that question, I would have looked at her with panic and uncertainty in my face, and a small ball of fear in my tummy. We had a food truck, and I didn’t know what it might be like to take it out. I didn’t know how to light the stove, or hook up the gas. I was unsure where to put the water in to fill the tank. The freezer didn’t seem to work, and I didn’t know how to get that going - or what to do if it wouldn’t. We had reached the goal we were dreaming of achieving, and I did not know for sure how we would make it happen. It was kindof like bringing a baby home from the hospital, then staring at the child with the realization everything had gotten very real, and life was forever changed, and thinking: Oh my gosh. What have we done? What do we do now?
By the end of June, after much trial and error, and arguing and frustration with each other and the food truck, Sarah and I had the logistics down - and the real learning began. What happens when we take the food truck out? A lot. One of the strongest foundations upon which we have built The Torch is the idea that needs come in a variety of packages, and it is not our job to judge whether or not someone else’s need is legitimate. We have fed people whose food stamps ran out, and those who cannot stretch them far enough to cover seven dinners each week. We have fed people who had food, but no companionship - and they have come again and again to fulfill that need. We have fed people who just like the idea of coming to the food truck, and encouraging us to move forward. We have fed people who don’t qualify for other help, but are living on a very fine line financially, and appreciate our no-questions-asked policy. We have had people come to the food truck not for a meal, but to find a listening ear and gentle word. We have learned, and are still learning, so much about ourselves and human nature. Sarah and I are softer and more compassionate. We are letting go of judgment as we champion the underdog, and grasp the reality of pain and heartache many people face. We have realized it is equally important to accept those who have much as those who have little. Sometimes the people we meet who have the most are the hardest for us to love. We have come to understand more fully that they have needs, as well, and our job is to love and accept them wherever they are at in life. And that is a really big and challenging job. We have learned to absorb criticism. You know, even when people are trying to do something to help, to make a difference for others, critics abound. Our no-questions-asked policy comes under fire on a regular basis, yet we know it sets us apart from others, and it is the very reason many have joined us in this adventure. That’s probably the biggest criticism we withstand. We have been told repeatedly we will get taken-advantage of. And often, other nonprofit organizations, whose sources of funding dictate policy, are not interested in working with us. A year ago, their critique would have caused me to question our determination to welcome anyone to our food truck. Throughout this past year, I have grown to realize the beauty and importance of standing firmly for what I believe to be right for The Torch. We have not been taken advantage of, instead we have seen and heard that people are encouraged, and blessed by this endeavor. And that allows us to continue moving forward. It confirms for us we are doing exactly what we are supposed to be doing, exactly the way we are supposed to be doing it. This year, I am not facing the future with uncertainty and fear. I look ahead at the plans we are pursuing, and I realize there is a lot we don’t know about expanding The Torch. I also realize there is much to learn, and opportunity to grow. We will make mistakes, and have setbacks. We will get upset with the truck and each other. We will feel the pains of growing and changing, and, sometimes, we will stop and look at ourselves and realize how far we have come, and how far we have yet to go. We will hold our heads high, fight off our uncertainties, and overcome whatever obstacles we face. And we will continue moving forward, meeting new people, and building new dreams. And, hopefully, The Torch will ignite enough sparks to catch fire and blaze brightly as we strive to change the world for whomever comes our way. That’s what happens when we take the food truck out.
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I look around at Christmas displays and see the words: “Hope”, “Joy”, and “Peace”, and I wonder - where does your hope come from? Hope is one of the foundational elements of The Torch. Hope is the reason Sarah was able to drag herself through the living Hell of homelessness and abandonment, and come out on the other side ready to help others. Hope is the reason I kept moving forward when I had no place to call home - choking back fear and loneliness, and withstanding judgment and hatred from others which was based on false rumors and lies designed to break me. Sarah and I never gave up the hope that life could get better, and that we could show other people that life CAN get better, and that there is always...
Hope! When I talk to people about hope, and observe our society and this world – it isn’t hard to see where people place their hope. Often, hope is pinned firmly to a dream job. We search for, and strive to get to the place where we can finally land that one job which will provide so much for us. We see the job as the key to wealth, prestige, self-esteem, and a better lifestyle. And, undoubtedly, the right job can often provide many of those things. But pinning our hopes on a job can leave us empty in several ways. Companies can be downsized, and jobs can be lost. When that happens, hope can be lost, as well. On the flip side - sometimes the job is everything we hoped it would be - and it brings all those good advantages, which do make life somewhat easier. But, once that is achieved, what is there left to hope for? Another job? A better job? I have known many people who found the job was not enough to sustain a hopeful heart. Sometimes people pin their hope on other people. They think as long as they are in a relationship with this or that person, they will always be cared for. They trust they will never be let down, or left alone, and that that other person will always protect and love them without fail. Pinning hope on people would work if people were not people. I don’t care how awesome you feel the person you have pinned your hope to is - inevitably, human beings cannot reside on a pedestal, and they will come crashing down at some point, unable to be a sustaining source of hope. Working in the schools, as I have for many years, I have noticed sometimes parents pin their hopes on their children. Kids are pushed to be the best athletes, the best scholars, the best musicians. They are encouraged to be the coolest or most popular students. Many times, the most driven young people are striving to achieve their parents’ unrealized dreams, and often this goes unnoticed or even unintended. But what happens to hope when children simply cannot fulfill their parent's aspirations? I had a conversation with a very upset dad many years ago. His son had several pretty significant disabilities, which were not diagnosed until he was in elementary school. The heartbroken dad was mourning the fact that his boy would never be the hockey player he always wanted to raise. His hope was crushed, and he struggled to find a way out of depression. And what about when children’s dreams and plans for life don’t match up with parental hopes? I was guilty of that with my youngest daughter, beautiful Maddy. When she was starting her Senior year in high school, she approached me with the idea that she had a different plan for her last year than the one I had in mind - which was the one all her siblings had followed. We argued about it for several days. Then, one morning, I woke up thinking about her, and I had to face the fact that I wasn’t considering Maddy at all in the argument. It was MY hope that I was concerned about; I needed to unpin my hope for her future to allow her to follow her hope and set HER course. Sometimes people pin hope on Christmas and the holidays. They dream about giving or getting the perfect Christmas gift. They plan the most delicious meal and think about singing Christmas carols as Grandma accompanies on the piano. There is a joyful spirit in the air as they contemplate family and friends with the tenderness that shows up with the season. They believe the Hallmark Christmas is surely within reach. But then, Christmas is over, the shine of the gifts dulls, work and normal daily life resume - and the bills start rolling in. All the sparkling promise that accompanied December 1st tends to flee with the advent of the new year. And where does that leave people? They end up searching for another location on which to pin their hope. Many, many, years ago, I became disillusioned with people, and jobs, and money and education. I hit rock-bottom and felt utterly hopeless. No matter what direction I tried to steer my thoughts, I could not get the fire of hope to rekindle. It wasn’t until I chose to pin my hope on God, and the promises He makes in the Bible, that I discovered a solid foundation for hope. God's Bible is amazing. There is a book called “The Green Machine”. It’s a kids' book I used to read to my two oldest children. We checked it out from the library nearly every single week. It is written with a catchy rhyming pattern and we thought it was so much fun to read. It was published in 1969, and, a few years ago, I decided to find it and buy it. Guess what? It is really rare to find and quite expensive to buy. Compare that to the Bible. Over two thousand years old. Always a best seller. And it is God’s letter to us. Available even in Walmart. The Bible is not going anywhere. I pinned my hope to passages like: I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. And when I come to those times in my life when people, and jobs, and education, and money, and everything else in this world lets me down - my hope sustains. Because what I hope for and believe in and live for is not pinned to anything in this world that can change in a moment. My hope this Christmas, and all the time, is directly pinned to God - and He has never, ever, let me down. The other day we were on the radio talking about the amazing food/dry-goods drive the Howell Community Theater just kicked off for The Torch. The theme of the drive is “be a hunger hero”, and Sarah and I were introduced as, “local heroes”, which fit with the theme, but rattled me a little. You see, I know myself very well. And I know I am not a hero.
I am just - me. Living up to hero status is daunting and intimidating to say the least. I wouldn’t even know how to begin to do such a thing. Google defines a hero as: "1. a person, typically a man (ahem), who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities. 2. another term for submarine sandwich." I just might have more qualities akin to a submarine sandwich, than to that first definition. Heroes are always so strong. But I am not always so strong. My sister is very ill right now, and that makes me feel sad and weak and helpless. The only thing I can do to help her is to pray. And I totally believe that is a very powerful weapon, however, it doesn’t keep me from breaking down and crying at moments when I least expect it. It doesn’t stop me from wishing there was something physically I could do to help her get better. It doesn’t make me not wake up at 3:00 in the morning with a lump in my throat and an ache in my heart. By myself, I am not strong. And that expectation is so hard to live up to. If people think I am some kind of hero, do I lose permission to cry? Do I forfeit the right to acknowledge there are some things in life for which I have no answers, and that leave me in a puddle on the floor? It feels like that could be the case, but I am not that strong. Heroes are always so smart. They always know what to say, and they always know what to do. And I, quite frankly, don’t. Sometimes people share life stories or events with me that take my breath away and leave me speechless. I don’t always have the words to comfort, and I don’t always have the solutions they seek. Occasionally, we get messages for the Torch and I really have no idea what to do about them. We get asked to do things we cannot possibly do, things that are so far outside the realm of having a food truck and taking it to people to cook free hot meals, that I don’t even know how to reply. I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound, and I am not faster than a speeding bullet, and I don’t have all the answers all the time. Heroes don’t get scared. But I do get scared. I get scared when I have to break bad news to someone, and I get scared when I am about to face a confrontation. I get scared of driving in the snow, and in the dark on unfamiliar roads. I get scared at the thought of losing the people I love. I don’t have a superhuman strength to overcome those scary times, although I do have prayer, and that gets me through them. I don’t face life fearlessly; it’s an everyday battle to overcome the things that frighten me through and through. I have to make a commitment every single day to praying and reading my Bible, and preparing myself to face whatever adversaries will come. So you see, I am not a hero. I am just me. But that is actually one of the most beautiful aspects of being part of The Torch. Sarah and I are just a couple of ladies who took a little germ of an idea and with a whole lot of faith, ran with it. I’m not saying it has been easy, and I am not saying we haven’t had to overcome significant obstacles. We have. We have had conflicts, and frustrations, and scary moments galore. Our faith has been tried and stretched and challenged, and it has grown as we climbed over, pushed through, and dodged around the things that threatened to stop us. And we are still here, and The Torch is growing, and opportunities keep presenting, and we will continue moving forward - despite our fears and uncertainties and moments when we completely, totally, don’t know what to do. I'm telling you - if we can do that, anybody can! I think too often we, as human beings, limit ourselves because we compare ourselves to those around us, and we are found wanting. If somebody is looking at me and thinking, “Wow! She’s a hero! I could never do that!”, then he or she can comfortably settle into his or her sheltered life and never step out in faith to do something to change the world. I don’t want my life to be the excuse people use not to help those around them. I want everyone to see - what I truly believe - if I can do it, so can you! So, what is it you can do? How can you make a difference in your home? Your life? Your community? Your world? I give you permission not to be a hero - you are free to be human and make mistakes and have fears and doubts. I won’t look for you to display supernatural powers. So you see? I am not a hero. I am just a person who cares deeply about those around me, and who believes I have a responsibility to reach out and show them I care. And it's okay that I am not a hero. I can live with that. Recently, I found myself sitting in a hospital room staring at a childhood picture taken in Cobden, Illinois a lifetime ago. As I gazed at the beloved faces of grandparents, aunt, uncle, cousins, parents, and siblings, my heart was stabbed with a pain that was poignant and an ache that was deep. In my mind’s eye, one by one five faces vanished from the picture. They were the faces of the loved ones I have lost through the years since that picture was snapped. I looked at myself as a child in that picture. I studied the face of that young girl who had yet to experience the many losses of the years to come. How little I knew. How precious that time was - and I didn’t even realize it.
It seems like it is just too easy to overlook the people in our lives. We make the assumption they will always be there, and sometimes take risks with our relationships that are, as we look back with hindsight, petty. When I was a young mother, my grandfather became angry with me over the church I was attending. I was equally angry with him for judging me in a way that felt very unfair. We grew distant from each other, and after a few years had passed, Grandpa got cancer and died. It happened very quickly, and I never had a chance to make amends with him. Over what? A silly argument about a church. Petty. I never thought about him dying and not being around any more, and suddenly he was gone. If I had the chance now, I would go back and fix that broken relationship. I can look back and see that Grandpa just wanted the best for me. He was truly afraid I had made a decision that would cost me my soul, and his anger stemmed from his love. But at the time, I had to be right, I had to have the last word, winning the argument and not being the first to apologize trumped the value of a life-long relationship. I was so foolish. Ten years ago, I lost a sister the day before Thanksgiving. Ironically, I started to call her the weekend before, on Sunday, but then decided it could wait because I was going to talk to her on Thanksgiving Day. Three days later, she was gone, and I never had the chance to make that last phone call. I know I can’t beat myself up over it, but I don’t think I will ever stop wishing I had made that call on Sunday. After all, I could have talked to her on Sunday and then again on Thanksgiving Day. Or at least on Sunday, because I didn’t know how short her time was. I have learned a few things from losing loved ones to death. First, I need to always remain aware that I never know when it is the last - Thanksgiving, Christmas, Birthday, vacation, or day I will spend with the people I love. I can’t walk around in morbid dread, but I must, must, MUST cherish every moment I get. I must hug a little longer, give an extra kiss, and say “I love you”, one more time. I need to live in the moment, not focusing on events that are coming next, or my texts with someone who isn’t even there, but I need all of me to be fully present and aware of those around me. I need to absorb the precious memories, and experience closely each one so I can treasure the time in my heart when we are not together anymore. I have to listen, not just with my ears, but with my whole being - to the cadence of a voice, the rhythm of a speech pattern, and with a desire to understand the meaning of the conversation. I also must remember to be thankful every single day for the people in my life. Even those who have hurt me have made me stronger. I dig deep to find gratitude for them. But those who have loved me have made me who I am. I am thankful I know them. I am thankful for their thoughts, and ideas, and kindnesses. I am thankful for their presence on Earth, and in my life. I am thankful for love, because even though it can hurt like crazy; without it, life would be raw and lonely. I have to admit, I am pretty sure every time I have lost a loved one there were moments when the pain made me wish I had never loved in the first place, but the passage of time eases the heartache. Just be sure to hug your loved ones tight. Hold onto them a little longer than necessary while you can. Love deeply, and without reservation. Forgive, and restore relationships. Someday the faces in those photographs will not all be there - but the memories of those precious moments you had together will remain. There was a status on the Torch’s Facebook that was a pretty simple, yet thought-provoking statement: “You are enough…” I particularly like that one, I must say. Sarah writes most of the status updates for the Facebook page, and she is a thinker for sure. We live in a society that does not often encourage the philosophy behind that thought. If we fully embrace the idea that you are enough, and I am enough, just by being you and I, then suddenly we have to re-think how we approach fellow human beings who inhabit this planet with us.
What is nearly the first question most adults ask when they meet somebody new? Think about it. They ask, “What do you do?” Meaning, of course, what do you do for work? Why do people ask that? Either consciously or subconsciously it is a measure, or a value-judgment, of those around us. I work with people who have disabilities, and have for nearly my entire adult life. When I answer that question people inevitably say something like, “you must be a really special person to do that.” But I know I am not, I am just me, and regardless of what I do with my time, that should be enough. I never ask people what they do. I am currently exploring a business opportunity, and I realized today that I don’t know what many of my friends (except for those I work with) do as a job. I know about the things I most deeply care about: their families; their characters; their hopes; their worries; the things in their lives that make up who they are. But often I do not know what they do for work. People are not their jobs. Jobs are something they do. People are not their choices in life. Their choices are based on their experiences and what they have learned. Sometimes those things are destructive and harmful, and sometimes they are empowering and beautiful. Either way, they do not increase or decrease the value of a human being. What you can or can’t do for me should not play into how much I value who you are. Neither should what you do or don’t do for me, or even what you have or have not done to me. I always need to be striving to allow my heart to be compassionate enough to accept that you are enough for this world. And so should you. Nobody’s opinion or judgment or attitude should diminish that you are enough, and if you find that they powerfully try to force you to be what you are not, then you should probably consider moving on so you can accept that you are enough. I see how, without even acknowledging it as we worked on all the planning and preparing that has gone into building a foundation for The Torch, we have embraced the philosophy that “you are enough”. Whoever you are, wherever you are at in your life, you are enough. You are enough to deserve our compassion. You are enough to receive a free hot meal. You are enough. You don’t have to bring anything besides yourself to us, ever. You are enough. Just by being a member of the human race, you are enough. We value you, and your family, and your presence in the world. All of you are enough, and you always will be. I think, deep down, we are all a bit rebellious. We want so desperately to make a difference in the world, for our lives to matter, and something about being told we have to measure ourselves against the status-quo grates on our sense of individuality. Early on, when Sarah and I were trying to learn everything we could about food trucking, we met with a man who owned a food-truck catering business. He had had a very successful business, but was winding things down and was in the process of selling all of his trucks so he could move to California. Sarah and I met with him and, as we looked inside his quite-magnificent trucks, we asked him lots of questions about running a food truck. He inevitably asked us what we were thinking of doing - and as soon as we told him we wanted a food truck to take to directly into neighborhoods to cook and serve free hot meals, his countenance and attitude changed. His voice and words gave us the verbal equivalent of a condescending pat on the head as he quickly ended our meeting. I won’t forget his words - “Well, girls, it’s one thing to have a good idea…” He let his voice trail off, and his eyes spoke the rest - “but in reality, it won’t work.”
Something inside me reared up at that, and rebelled against the unspoken challenge. Of course, I can see how he could come to his conclusion. Sarah and I were rookies. We didn’t know hardly anything about food trucks. For him, the food truck business was work - it had proved very lucrative, and he couldn’t see any other purpose besides profit for having a food truck. He also clearly didn’t know about the God factor, which I was relying on heavily. I was surprised at how much I didn’t like his insinuation that what we had was a good idea, and nothing more. It was too far outside his ability to reason, or even care, for him not to dismiss it as if it were nothing more than a whim for us. For me, it was a passion, and his indifference and mocking tone fueled that passion. I spent most of my life trying not to rock any boats. I did what was expected of me and worked hard to keep everyone around me happy. I was hesitant to try new things, and avoided change at all costs. When I was finally forced to make big changes in my life, I was terrified, and completely expected to fail. Poverty, homelessness, crushing rumors, and the loss of friends threatened to overwhelm me. But in the midst of it all - as I began to sense there were many people in my life who were hoping, yes HOPING, I would fail - that I would fall and not be able to get up - I found, deep inside, a rebellious spirit that would not allow me to succumb to all the pressure and to surrender my optimism and faith. I believe God puts that spirit inside us and then uses our circumstances to fan the flames which spread and grow and keep hope alive. We don’t have to be overwhelmed by the bad influences in our lives, or by other people’s opinions, or even by the consequences of our own or others’ stupid actions. We might have to endure some difficult, or even horrible, circumstances, but that rebellious spirit is inside, refusing to let us give up. I look around and I see things that are wrong. I see things that are accepted in the Christian world - and they are wrong, and when I point them out sometimes people get angry. There was a day when that anger would have caused me to scurry back into the safety of nonchalance and casual acceptance in allowing them to believe I was wrong for questioning the status quo. But that day is gone. Instead, I think about how things should be, and I speak up, and I have continual hope things can change. I feel good about myself and my confidence grows. I read an article the other day which was written to a Christian audience. It talked about how some Christians show too much love for others. That’s right, too much love and not enough judgment. When I think about my life, and the things that drove me into a relationship with God, it always points to love. I didn’t really think I was all that horrible when I became a Christian. I was very hungry to be loved, though, and as I started working to get to know God, that is what I found. I had some crazy beliefs, ideas, and thoughts that I held on to for a long time after I began to interact with God regularly. People’s criticisms and judgments didn’t cause me to accept the Bible. A fear of going to Hell didn’t, either. How can you fear what you don’t believe in? It was love that captured my attention and drew me. It was peace I sought, and hope. As I entered into the family, accepting God as my Father, and learned more about His nature, my desires and thoughts, and attitudes changed. I feel the familiar twinge of rebellion when I am told to love less and judge more. If there is no love, there is no hope. If there is no hope, there is no purpose for The Torch. But there is love, there is hope, and I have found my purpose. I had an interesting conversation recently with a friend. We were discussing The Torch, and he had a lot of questions about how we do what we do. He was particularly interested in the fact we have zero strings attached for people to come have some food from the truck. Yes, we do hand out tickets, but that is so we can keep track of how many meals we served so we can responsibly plan for the next week. We count them, and make note of it, and that’s it. We don’t take any personal information at all, although I do like to learn peoples’ names, so I can be friendly. His questions led to a discussion about people and their needs, and I was thinking about it while I ran this morning. We have a lot of different definitions for a "need".
One day when we had the truck out, I was standing outside. A lady came to talk to me. I, of course, explained that the food was free and told her to go to the window and get something to eat. She refused right away, and told me she didn’t want to take the food from people who needed it, and said she was just curious about us and The Torch. We began talking and as we talked, she shared some heavy burdens she was carrying. I listened, because I could relate to her heartache and the painful experience she was undergoing. After quite a chat, I convinced her to take some food, because we pretty much don’t let people escape without feeding them something. As she prepared to leave, we hugged each other. I have never hugged so many strangers in my life as I do now working with The Torch. So, my question is - Did she have a need? And the answer is: YES! Who doesn’t have needs? Her need at that moment was not food - she needed someone to listen, and to care so she didn’t feel so alone in the world. When Sarah and I started talking about meeting people’s needs with the food truck, we acknowledged there is hunger in many communities. There is physical hunger, which we are happy to do our part to alleviate some of. But there are other hungers as well, and those needs are important, too. People need to feel like someone cares. Often they are hungry to be listened to. Sometimes people find themselves suddenly strapped for cash and they don’t qualify for any other type of help. We have had many of those folks give us heartfelt thanks for welcoming them to us without judgment, question, blame, or guilt. They were hungering for acceptance and hope that better days would come. We have quite often encountered a need for community. People need to belong somewhere and to do something that matters; we welcome them to the Torch family. We have made friends with some pretty awesome and interesting people from all over the place through this adventure. We get asked to do some very cool things with some very cool people - and not everyone we end up serving always has financial or food needs - but they do have needs and if we have resources to meet those needs, we will help them. I understand many organizations and people are tied to certain governmental or other types of funding in order to sustain, and in order to keep receiving those funds they have to prove they are serving only one level of need. We have chosen to avoid that path for The Torch. We want to be free to help wherever and whenever people need help with whatever situation they find themselves faced with. If we have the resources, we will do what we can. Most often, the need we encounter is for love and understanding, patience and kindness. Nobody is perfect and nobody does life perfectly. Sometimes we screw up, and sometimes things just go awry for no reason we can discern. Painful situations come, and nobody should have to feel like they must endure all alone. I will give a million hugs to a million strangers if that is a need I sense when I am out trying to be The Torch. I will talk to and listen to and pray for anyone who drops us a line and asks for it, and I will feed, without question, anyone who comes to the truck, because needs are not always physical or financial, and food can open doors to conversations that might not ever happen if we were not out and about doing what we are supposed to do. A hot cup of tea, that is.
I just finished a wonderful jog, had a nice shower and am enjoying my tea as I look outside and marvel at the dazzling sunshine. My Sunday morning routine has changed often throughout the years, but at this point in my life it is far different than it was before. But, I guess so much of life is changed now. Not so long ago, I would wake up early on Sunday morning so I could eat breakfast, do my devotions, and head off to church. If I was really motivated, I would set my alarm an hour earlier than I had to get up - and I would get a run in before church. Now, I don’t go to church on Sunday morning. Nope. Now I go to church on Monday nights. Let me explain how this began. My daughter Madison lives in Ypsilanti. When she moved there, I thought she might naturally be able to find her way into a large church we had visited in the past that was located right near the University of Michigan’s campus. But that didn’t seem to be a good fit after she moved and had settled in. I was attending a very large church in Hartland, which was a great church, and I was content worshiping God there. I actually liked the fact I was pretty much invisible when I attended. Then a pastor from a church in Ann Arbor came one Sunday and spoke. He mentioned the church he pastored in Ann Arbor and it was called “the greenroom”. His message moved and engaged me unlike any message had in a long while, and, even though I know church is not about me, I was curious about the greenroom. So I went home and I looked it up online. Look it up when you get the chance - http://thegreenroom-annarbor.com/. I learned the greenroom is a church that celebrates the arts and artists of all types. The pastor, Scott Crownover, and his wife Denise are actors-turned-pastors. They were called by God to start a church in Ann Arbor that appreciates and enjoys arts and artists, because, after all, God is an artist Himself! One of the interesting things I found out is they meet on Monday nights. I would later learn this is because many actors and actresses work on weekends and cannot attend traditional Sunday morning church. Scott and Denise are not traditional-type people, anyway, so they decided their church would meet on Monday evenings. My daughter Maddy has always been a girl who loved the arts. She has a beautiful singing voice, (although she is too shy to use it), she used to play violin and dabbled in drama when she was in school. She is a hair stylist now and I think that is yet another art form - she is certainly very creative in what she does. So I started thinking about her and decided I would ask if she would like to try out the greenroom with me. She was happy I asked - and was particularly glad she didn’t have to get up early on Sunday morning to go - so we decided to check it out the next Monday. Now, I do not remember ever being nervous before attending a church service in my life. But I have to admit, I was nervous the first day I was heading out to the greenroom. A church for artists? What was I doing? I was being moved out of my comfort zone, for sure! And it never seems like God just eases me out of those comfort zones - I get moved out with a bang! I had no idea what to think. I was expecting an eclectic group of people. I guess I thought the church would be filled with young hippy-types, and eccentric young artists setting up their easels while others strolled around playing their sitars and kettle drums. I thought there might be beads and incense. And I really thought I was going to stick out like a sore thumb. I had a feeling I was going to be the oldest person there - and certainly the least artistic of them all! I have nothing to offer in terms of creativity. I can’t paint, I can’t sing, I can’t dance, I can’t draw, I pretty much can’t create. I don't even scrapbook or make crafts! Those things are out of my league. I can appreciate those who do, though, but that is about it. I hoped it would be a church where Maddy had a place, and then I could move on and find where God wanted me to be. What I found was a group of accepting, loving people who warmly welcomed me through the doors of the big yellow barn where the church meets. I found young people, and old people (some older than me). I found gifted musicians and actors and artists of all sorts, but my lack of talents did not put a target on my back, I was as welcome to be there as anyone. I found something you don’t often see in a church - a multicultural body of people - truly a blessing in itself. I found an amazingly humble pastor and family who are listening to God’s call on their lives and following Him no matter what it costs them. And overwhelming it all, was the presence of God. In this day and age of the mega-church I found a church in which I never get the sense their ultimate goal is to build an enormous building to fill with tens of thousands of people. And the incredible thing about that is - people I talk to who don’t go to church often don’t go because they are tired of the megachurch movement. I sense and believe Pastor Scott is on the cutting edge of God shaking up His Church, and changing how things are done, particularly in America - and Pastor Scott is going to find himself leading the way. If you find yourself looking for something to do on Monday evening, come on out to the greenroom in Ann Arbor. We meet at 7:30 in a big yellow barn. You will find Pastor Scott and a lot of amazingly gifted artistic people. Sarah and Maddy and I will be there - we sit toward the back because sometimes Sarah and I have to skip out a bit early to pick up Panera donations. If it is a truly blessed night - you will get to hear Scott’s wife, Denise, sing a song of worship. Beautiful. But, most importantly, you will find God. And that’s what church is about. We get approached by so many people with so many ideas and thoughts and requests. One of the most interesting requests - often which contains the richest blessings for us - is when small businesses want to partner with us in some way. Sarah and I frequently marvel at the amazingly creative, tenacious, and intelligent people we have met who have reached out and supported and helped us throughout these past two years. There is another side to that, though, and I have been thinking about it a lot this past week. Sometimes people who connect with us do not make very successful partners and end up finding themselves disappointed.
I think I partially understand what happens with those individuals. The successful partnerships we have had have been forged with people who got involved mostly because they wanted to help and support the concept and idea of what The Torch is all about. They understand sometimes people need help, and they want to be part of helping them. If their business is blessed because of that, so be it, but that is not the driving force behind their motivation to support us. That attitude is key, because generosity without looking for reciprocity is what God is all about. And people who are truly generous are willing to sacrifice their time or money or comfort to help others. Sarah and I don’t stand to gain anything personally from the success of The Torch. We firmly believe God is entrenched in every aspect of this organization. He gave Sarah the idea, and He has removed a multitude of barriers, and helped us become better people along the way. He is also the reason behind the blessings. Proverbs 11:24-25 says, One person gives freely, yet gains even more; another withholds unduly, but comes to poverty. A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. Giving in order to get or not giving because you are not getting is a double-edged sword. People who come to us and express interest in partnering with us solely because they think we can help their business become successful are missing the most important part of the whole partnership. Ultimately, this isn’t about any of us. There is a supernatural aspect which involves hearts and generosity and faith. If Sarah and I were to lose the faith part of this adventure, we would lose The Torch. Of that, I am confident. It is not my natural inclination to want to give up what I have so I can give more to others. Goodness, I work hard for my money. But in the end, it’s not about me. It’s all about my attitude and my heart, and my desire to see others develop Hope and to know life can and will be beautiful and positive. And it can be beautiful and positive even if everything does not work out the way I would have it, or if tragedy strikes, or if I lose all my material possessions. That’s where the faith part kicks in and helps me to stick it out. And that’s the part that some people neglect to incorporate when they want to connect with us. I think they look at our Facebook page and read about some of the other awesome sponsors and supporters and the successful partnerships we share, and they think all they have to do is throw a few dollars our way and POOF success will be theirs! People who don’t have the right attitude are pretty transparent to Sarah and me. We don’t want those kinds of partnerships. They are not what we are all about, even if the individuals involved donate money to The Torch. Ultimately, we want to help others. We want to make a difference. We want to be a difference and to show others how they can be a difference, too. We count ourselves successful when we look out the window of the food truck and children and adults are sitting around happily eating and chatting. We count it a success when we have forged a little more community among our fellow human beings, whether they are adults or children or teens. We don’t want to get anything back from The Torch; we want to be an example to others of how to give, how to be content with what you have, and how to love others so much you abandon your comfort zone, turn your life upside down, and work harder than you ever remember working before to make a dream become a reality, so you bring hope to people who can sometimes feel like there is nothing worth hoping for anymore. That kind of success can't be bought, and it can't be gained simply by hitching your wagon to ours. It's a matter of your heart and attitude and whether or not you really care about others and want to make a difference, or you simply want people to think you do. I have learned so much about food trucks this summer.
Did you know Sarah and I are ordained, licensed chaplains? A lot of people don’t really even know what a chaplain is. I can dispel a few notions about it for you right off the bat here - by telling you what a chaplain is NOT. A chaplain is NOT a pastor, priest or minister of a specific church. And it is just as true to say a pastor is not a chaplain. Pastors work within the setting of a particular church - and oversee, teach and lead within the confines of their particular religion. Chaplains are not necessarily bound to any denomination - and they can find themselves working in a variety of settings with a variety of people in a variety of circumstances.
Hmmmm. Sounds like The Torch might be a good place for chaplains, huh? We first learned about chaplaincy when an acquaintance approached me and asked if I had ever heard of it. He said he was going through the ordination process and thought it would be a good fit for Sarah and me. At first, I dismissed the idea because I was pretty fed up with religion and I thought chaplains were basically pastors. I knew God was not calling me to put my time into helping yet another church to grow. Sarah and I talked about it briefly, and let it go for a bit. Then, Sarah did some research into chaplaincy. What she found out is chaplain training is all about preparing people to serve God outside the church walls - at work, at school, through a nonprofit, etc. The training can be very emotional, as it touches on the rawest forms of humanity in crisis - and teaches appropriate ways to respond, support and help those in need. We realized how valuable such knowledge and understanding could be for The Torch, and, hopefully, how we could benefit people we come in contact with - and so we signed up. To be honest, I was not totally prepared for the emotional aspect of the training we received. We both have suffered deep hurts in our lives, and as we learned how to support others in their painful moments, we often came face to face with our own heartaches. Good thing God was with us through the process, because it would have been easy to put all that emotion back into the boxes in our hearts and to just go on living our lives and ignoring our own pain. But we stuck it out and learned much about ourselves and human nature throughout the process. I think all the deepest needs human beings have have a spiritual component to them. The Apostle Paul wrote: I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry,whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:12-13). Paul was a man of God who helped change the world; just think about it - those words were written 2,000 years ago and we are reading them today. That is pretty miraculous. Paul reached a level of spiritual peace and contentment that flowed out into every aspect of his life, and no matter what circumstances he found himself in - peace and contentment prevailed. Sometimes I feel like my heart will break when I hear peoples’ stories and get a sense of the pain in their lives. Chaplain training has helped me to look deeper as I seek ways to help. And boy do I pray. I pray for so many people in so many situations. The training has also taught me to respect people and their beliefs. I used to be so quick to judge and dismiss, and I am sure I hurt many feelings along the way. Sometimes I was trying so hard to make people want to come to MY church I didn’t take time to hear them out or even try to understand why they believed what they believed. I encountered a woman many years ago - and we were talking about God, and faith. I asked her what church she went to and she right away said, “Oh, you won’t like it. You won’t approve of me.” I pressed her to tell me, because I thought it seemed strange for her to say that and it piqued my curiosity. She said, “I’m Mormon.” And right away, I drew back and pretty much had a surface relationship with her after that. I wish I knew then what I know now. I am sure my insensitivity and judgment hurt her. Chaplain training taught me to listen with a heart of understanding. People have spiritual needs and they are seeking to fill them - and we are bombarded in our society with all kinds of solutions. Let’s face it, even in small communities there is a church on practically every corner - and they usually all claim to be the ONE with the ANSWERS. The thing is - there is a very good chance you might not find God in a church. You might not find Him in a religion. Sometimes the activities and rituals and requirements clutter things up so much that even though you are involved and engaged, you still find yourself empty and not acquiring the contentment Paul talks about in Philippians. As a chaplain, I have learned the value of not pulling away from people, and how important it is to keep showing up, and praying that when they see me - when they see us - they will see lives that reflect God’s love. We want to be there for people in a new and fresh way, to throw a lifeline of hope out wherever we go. To smile and love and be strong in our faith, so, hopefully, others will be strong in theirs - or maybe even start to develop some faith if they have none. Chaplains are prepared to go into the world and listen, and love and help meet the needs of the people they encounter. And Sarah and I are chaplains. I just thought you might like to know. I was having a cell phone conversation with someone the other day about The Torch. Judging from the types of questions I was asked, and the conversation, I would guess the individual is comfortably well-off and has not been involved very much with any type of charity work. Having spent most of my adult life volunteering in a variety of capacities for a variety of causes, and working in the schools with individuals who have disabilities - I sometimes feel like I am speaking with a foreigner when I encounter a person who does not, has not, and likely will not volunteer for anything - nor will she ever see a reason to do so. During the conversation last week we finally got to the inevitable why questions. People have a burning desire to know the “whys” of things they do not have the capacity to understand.
Why are you doing this? Why don’t you want to take salaries? Why do you spend so much time on it? I ponder those questions. Why do we do this? Somebody once told me I was probably doing The Torch because it made me feel good. Hmmm. Actually, oftentimes The Torch is very stressful. It without a doubt is the the most challenging thing I have ever undertaken- mentally, physically AND emotionally - and that is coming from a woman who earned her Master’s degree while raising children and working two jobs. When I think long and hard, I seriously am not doing The Torch for me. It isn’t because I have a need to make myself feel good - there are a lot of easier ways I could do that, believe me! And it isn’t because someday I see a vision of hundreds of Torch trucks out on the roads, feeding people all over the place. I am not driven by the desire to grow the organization, and hence, my ego, huge. That seems kind-of self-serving to me, actually. I don’t have a desire to be paid a salary from The Torch’s donations, either. Why not? I don’t think that is the best thing for The Torch. I personally don’t like to donate money to organizations where a significant percentage of my donation is used to pay overhead. It certainly would be easier for Sarah and me to work full time for The Torch, and not have to punch the clock at other time-consuming jobs. Our hearts are in The Torch, but I have a fear of becoming just like other non-profit organizations - and if my livelihood is tied up in getting donations, I feel like my focus could change from feeding people to feeding me. I believe some day Sarah and I will be able to lead The Torch full time without touching a dime of the donations. I don’t know how, or when, but I fully believe the time will come. Until then, we work, and it is not easy to do, let me tell you. It can be exhausting and draining, and our passions run high - and we can’t do everything we want to do. But we are doing what we can. And as The Torch grows, I truly believe it will be because of the help of like-minded volunteers. So, why? So many reasons run through my mind. We do it because it is the right thing to do. We do it because life sucked for a very long time - and even though we don’t have much, we have something that we can share. We do it because we were there and we care about others, whether they have suffered for a long time or are just facing challenges right now. We care. We care so deeply we want to help and to make a difference. We want people to know life can get better. It will get better. We do it because we don’t wear “What Would Jesus Do?” bracelets. I know that sounds weird, but bracelets don’t make things happen, people do. We just try to figure out what He would do - and do it. He was radical and unusual. His love was all-encompassing. We do it because of that. We do it because we want to be different - indeed, we are called to be different. We feel like all-too-often there are so many strings attached to Christian love the love itself is obscured and hard to see. And somewhere along the way Christians got comfortable hiding behind the church walls and counting people, only daring to come out for an occasional activity that might impact the community, but more in the hopes of bringing bodies into the building. We do it to break that mold, to stand up against such comfort zones. We do it because maybe it will inspire someone else to do something different and new, casting off the desire to get something out of it for themselves. We do it because we can’t. Seriously, only God could move the mountains, squash the obstacles, and open the doors we have faced. We do it because we can. We can push ourselves out of our comfort zones, and work until we are exhausted, and listen and love and try to lead the way so others will do the same. We do it because life is not about getting more, or getting ahead, or getting it all; life is about community and love and people. We do it because life is not about us as individuals, it is about us as a group - as an interwoven tapestry of lives all joined together - TOGETHER on this earth. We do it because of you, because of your neighbor, because of your family, your parents, your friends, because of the people who don’t get it and those who do. We do it because there is Hope in knowing somebody cares, somebody is going to smile at us and treat us kindly, somebody understands we truly are all created equal and all have equal and infinite value and worth. We just do The Torch. The intense journey of a single week can sometimes be difficult to capture with mere words. It so often happens when things go wrong from the beginning they quickly spiral out of control. A brand-new generator that wouldn’t start was the springboard for a difficult and rough start to a week punctuated with a multitude of highs and lows. Sarah and I came face to face with our humanity and weakness as human beings in the heat and frustrations Saturday. We are Christians, but that does not make us some type of super-humans. We are works in progress and when our tempers flare up things go South quickly. “Let’s just shut it down now!” was the theme of the day Saturday. And it dragged on through Sunday. And Monday as stubbornness and frustration ruled our emotions.
Tuesday’s arrival brought us face to face with the very large responsibility that lay before us - a mobile back to school event unlike anything either of us had done before. it was so much bigger than we were. Would it work? How would it work? Had we done enough work? Work. Work. Work. But the key was prayer. And we knew that. We prayed and attitudes changed. We prayed many people would come. Hope soared. We prayed people would be blessed. Excitement grew. We prayed for haircuts and food and clothing and for an attitude of celebration. Hope arose. And there was a terrible weather forecast we were determined to pray away. Severe thunderstorms and rain were on the horizon. And still we prayed. We asked for it to go around us. We asked for the rain to disappear. For miraculous intervention and prevention. The sky opened up and rain began to pour, to gush, to roar down upon the truck. For an instant our hopes dimmed. Then, we refocused our attitudes and began to cook. And people came. In spite of the rain, they came, and they came, and they came. They smiled. They chatted. They got drenched, but they ate. The building was packed, haircuts were given, clothing was taken away, and we were blessed. See, God said, I can work no matter what the circumstances are. It was a lesson we needed. A lesson taken deeply to heart. I don’t need to pray the rain away. I need to pray God’s presence into the place. Finite human understanding trying to limit an infinite God. Wednesday’s event was completely filled with curveballs we never saw coming. New people, new faces, new challenges, unexpected circumstances and conflicts. A propane tank that refused to re-light so we could continue to cook. One thing after another seeming to go wrong. And yet people came. People were blessed and they were a blessing. We pushed through. As we cleaned the truck late into the night, we laughed at the comedy of it all, at the realization so much is out of our control, and there was joy in the food truck. Thursday brought a change in the schedule. Food service only that night. We opted to serve cold food for a change of pace. One of the beautiful things about the food truck is the unlimited possibilities for the meals we can produce, and we love the chance to try new foods. The event began and people lined up for snow cones, but nobody was at the truck. I was not worried for even a second. I knew they would come. And then they did. Over three hundred plates of food left the truck in an hour and a half. Faces both familiar and new blessed us with their visits. Time flew by and soon there was no more line, and we were on our way. Friday arrived. It is amazing how bittersweet the final moments of a tremendous challenge can feel. The adrenaline rush brought about by the knowledge of the work that lies ahead is subsided somewhat by an early morning run. Mental lists give way to physical lists and soon everything is packed up and ready to go. The final day has been much-anticipated, but the expected feeling of relief is not there. A melancholy acceptance that something big, something amazing, something beyond your own human abilities has occurred settles in. And soon, it will be over. Unexpected obstacles appear as they have every day, but this time is different. There is so much peace in the knowledge they will be overcome. No matter what happens, this is a day to rejoice and be glad. And all-too-soon it is time to pack up and go home for the last time. You are overwhelmed with the bittersweet melancholy that follows a journey filled with incredible highs and lows. For the first time in a week, you realize you are exhausted: emotionally, physically, and mentally - completely sapped of energy and strength. You savor the memories, pray for the beautiful faces that fill your mind. You know you were part of something that was good. It was very, very good. And you suspect you will never know all the lives that were impacted. You hope beyond your wildest hope that people who came and left and whose lives are now inexorably intertwined with yours feel loved, and that they know you care. What a week. What an event. It seems pretty clear to me our ideas about what makes life meaningful are skewed. If fame, fortune, and the ability to satisfy pretty much any desire we have were the answer, then people who have achieved them would have no reason to commit suicide. It can be a dangerous time when a person realizes the true meaning of life and source of hope does not lie in the things he or she spent many years pursuing. The things that bring us the most pleasure are often the things that provide just enough distraction to prevent us from taking a long, serious, heartfelt look at the parts of our life we are trying to mask. We have been sold a lie when we begin to think our happiness lies in anything this world has to offer, and we decide to ignore our personal spirituality. We are spiritual beings - with a 2,000 year old Bible to attest to that. As long as we ignore that very significant part of our humanity, we will be compelled to search, and what we find will never be quite enough to satiate our need.
The assumption that God will understand as we start putting our time and life’s devotion into work, family, material possessions, and hobbies - and stop or never even begin to put it on Him and seeking His will for our lives is risky and life-threatening. The longing hole in our lives is deepened by a yearning for hope which often drives us to look for things or people or experiences to fill it. Unfortunately, we begin to look for the material to fill the spiritual, because often that is all we know. Or all we are stubbornly willing to do. It doesn’t matter how much you enjoy camping or vacationing or shopping or working or eating or exercising or hanging out with friends or spending time with your family: camping trips and vacations end and you have to go home; the things your bought lose their newness; your job fills your time and is an exchange of your time for money - which can buy things but cannot save a soul; food is quite possibly the shortest-lived provider of pleasure and certainly one of the most troublesome for many people; exercise by itself is a good thing, but even the most physically fit individuals face health problems and aging; and people can help fill loneliness, but they also can absorb us emotionally and mentally, and provide distractions and entertainment which leave our lives when they move on. Neglecting spiritual well-being is costly and painful. You can pay thousands of dollars to a therapist who will listen to you discuss your life as you try to sort out through problems for a few hours each week, but he or she will never post advertising which states “I will never leave you or forget you.” You can try all sorts of medications to alleviate your pain and give you peace of mind - but none of them come with a guarantee to provide a supernatural depth of peace the human mind cannot begin to fathom. You can talk to your friends and complain about your life and work yourself into quite a state of self-pity and sorrow, and it may very well be that your life is unbelievably painful and the most incredible wrongs have been perpetrated against you, but even the best of friends cannot offer to carry all of your burdens for you. They can’t. Most people can barely manage their own, because life is hard. The lives of celebrities demonstrate clearly to us that material possessions and food and alcohol and drugs will not give our lives meaning or soothe the desperate pleas of our souls. They can’t, no matter how much we tell ourselves they can. I remember one night I was at a terrible low point. There was so much pain in my heart - and I was just tired of living with it. I decided that night I would get my affairs in order and take my own life. I remember very clearly lying on the couch and feeling suddenly peaceful about that decision. I wanted so badly to not have to experience any more pain and to feel so utterly worthless. I was living in an abusive situation and felt I had no option to leave, that I mattered that little. I was so confused by the lies and anger that surrounded me. But as I lay there, I could feel God’s presence. He removed the false peace I felt as my children’s faces ran through my mind. He reassured me He would love me the same whether I stayed in the marriage or left - and He reminded me my kids needed me even though it didn’t always seem that way. When I was in the middle of one of the most painful and humiliating periods of my life - I discovered how many pseudo-friends I actually had. Hateful rumors designed to destroy me were spread among the Christians I knew. Christians can be pretty vicious when they spread gossip couched as prayer requests. Many times my stomach sank and my heart pounded when I would see someone I knew as I was out and about. I never knew what they had been told and what they believed. It was a very lonely time - and depression loomed, yet, every single time I cried out to God He was there. He answered prayer after prayer in unexpected ways, and brought me unfathomable peace as I left a lifetime and most of the people I knew behind. My heart was often light when it should have been heavy, and every time a prayer was answered I grew spiritually stronger. My dearly loved friends and readers, please don’t fool yourselves or let stubbornness keep you pursuing things that will never make you whole and complete. Pursue God. Seek Him. All the rest will fall into place. My life is a testimony to that. You can't afford to neglect your spirituality. Want to know more? Send me a message and we will talk. Rhonda It is with keen anticipation I get ready for a three mile run. As I lace and tighten my shoes and stretch my legs, I am happy. I have been running for over twenty years and have learned a lot about long runs. Okay, three miles might not be a marathon, but it is long enough for me.
I feel fresh and ready at the beginning of every run. One of the hardest things to do is to set a steady pace that is not too fast, so I don’t tire myself out too quickly. That means I have to pay close attention to what I am doing until I hit my stride. I love to run in new places and to look around at the scenery as I go by. I have found a pace that allows me keep a steady jog, but not race through so quickly I don’t have time to notice the beautiful life around me. Once in awhile, there is an exceptionally gorgeous vista or unexpected meadow or a majestic stand of trees which causes me to stop and drink in its glory - and the rest is welcome and refreshing - but I always have to get going again. One thing I have learned from running steadily for so many years, is how important it is to keep moving forward and to focus on where I am at at that particular moment. It is okay to look a little bit ahead, but I never want to see too far, or I might get discouraged. Sometimes, I catch a glimpse of a particularly high hill or challenging terrain - and I can be intimidated to know it is coming. It is better to encounter those obstacles one at a time, and deal with them as they come than to try to keep moving forward with dread in my heart. So, I only look a little ahead, just to be sure I am somewhat prepared and don’t trip and fall. I have fallen a few times - and sometimes I get really angry, and sometimes I get really upset. The problem with getting carried away with my emotions is it can really disrupt my run, and as long as I am not too damaged, I need to get going again as soon as I can. I also find I like to look back occasionally to see how far I have come. I have to be careful, though, not to get caught up in looking back, because I might find myself stuck in one beautiful spot on the trail, and it can become harder and harder to leave, especially if it is a restful, peaceful, place. I can keep the beauty of the moment in my memory to treasure, but I can’t go back; I have to keep moving forward. I have also found if I look back too much, I can stumble and fall - just as when I am not careful as I go - but those falls that happen when I look back too much can bring everything to a standstill for a long time. They hurt, and it can be difficult to recover from them. I do, though. I eventually pick myself up and continue moving forward. When I finally reach the end of a three mile run, I usually feel a sense of accomplishment. The trail might have been rugged, or it might have been smooth; either way, I am happy for the journey. I feel healthier and stronger when a successful run is completed. I accomplished what I set out to do - and am invigorated and ready for the next challenge. When I think about it - running is very much like life, isn’t it? Some of the activity on the Torch’s Facebook page these past few days gave me food for thought. First, in the interest of generating some conversation, we asked our followers to share something about themselves they are proud of. We said it couldn’t be children, because that is too easy, and we wanted people to dig a little deeper. Very few people replied. The next day, we asked people, prefaced with “if you have the courage to share” to state something about themselves they would change. That post blew up. If you don’t know what I mean - a LOT of people commented about what they would like to change about themselves. I was trying to figure out what the dynamics were behind this. I hardly think out of the 1800+ followers we have on our Facebook only a couple have done anything to be proud of. Maybe it takes more courage to talk about the hard things we have accomplished than it does to point out what we don’t like about ourselves.
I can name a bunch of things right off the top of my head that I would change: I need more courage to deal with conflict; I should have been a better mom; I would like to be better at interpersonal relationships; sometimes I am offended too easily; and on and on and on. I understand that nobody likes a braggart, but I also get that we are far more apt to criticize other people and ourselves than to encourage. We tend to remember to contact places of business when we have a complaint, and often forget when we want to compliment them or have a positive experience. It is the same with people. We just beat each other up, don’t we? I think we feel better about our own insecurities when we can look at other people and pick apart their weaknesses. The problem with that is, it brings all of us down together, and I think makes us afraid to speak up about the things we have done or currently do well. We need to feel positive about ourselves. We need to cut ourselves some slack and think positively about who we are and what we have done and can do. I am proud I completed my Associates degree. That one was so hard to get, believe it or not. It took me eighteen years of taking classes whenever I had the time and could afford them. When I started the degree there was no such thing as a computer class for students. The last class I had to take to get the degree was a required class on Microsoft Office software. A whole era of technology and educational developments had occurred during those long years. I often felt discouraged and directionless as I changed my major several times and finally settled for a Liberal Studies degree. That basically means a little bit of everything. So I have an Associates degree in a little bit of everything which does absolutely nothing for my employability, but reminds me I can persevere. I am proud I completed my Masters degree. I worked a full time job and a part time job and was raising teenagers when I did that one. There were a lot of late nights, and a lot of stressful mornings as I pushed through it. It took me four days locked in a hotel room to complete my thesis. I was exhausted, but exhilarated when my advisor finally gave her stamp of approval to the finished product. The day I had to defend it went without a flaw - and that was a testament to the hard work of preparation that went into it. I am proud I found courage to hold my head high in spite of being surrounded at times by people who wanted to attack and tear me down. I lived through some desperate years, and it took every ounce of faith and perseverance I had to get through. But I got through, and came out on the other side with a deeper relationship with God and a greater understanding of what I am capable of doing. I think it is the hard things we succeed at which are the things we can be proud of. I fully believe God was with me through each and every one of those events of my life, but I could have given up and walked away from Him and from those efforts at any time, yet I didn’t. I have to take time to remind myself of those things because I too-often find myself dwelling on my regrets and the things I would (or should) change. We need a balance of both. Think positive thoughts about yourself. Stop and congratulate you for doing the hard things and making the tough decisions. Be proud of the good things that you do - grow from them and use them as a launchpad for even greater things. You are a great human being! What’s your story?
Everybody’s life has a story. We all have experienced moments in time which were pivotal in making us who we are, and in bringing us to the places we are at in life right now. What is yours? I think it is important to take stock of the events of our lives, and to pinpoint in brutal honesty the things that have formed our view of ourselves, the world, and others. Sometimes, they are things we have pushed aside, and just hoped they would go away as time passed. Sometimes, they are painful memories of things people did to us when we were younger. Sometimes, they are painful memories of things we did to others, and we would prefer to sweep them under the rug and pretend they never happened. The problem is, once things happen, the consequences don’t go away just because we refuse to think about them. I think back over my life and I acknowledge the were many significant things that happened to me which have brought me to where I am now. There are things I did when I was a teenager that sometimes I regret today, but when I look back over those years, I see how I am who I am because, or in spite of, the choices and decisions of a lifetime ago. Can I go back and change the past? No. Would I, if I could? I don’t know. My story would be different, and even though I didn't have the perfect childhood, and I was far from being a perfect teenager, all the experiences I had taught me tremendous lessons. I think about the shy, insecure young person I was, the one who followed the crowd in hopes of finding acceptance and peace, and I feel for her, just as my heart softens towards the teens and young people I meet today who trying hard to find their places in this world. I struggled mightily with anorexia, and I remember the morning reality struck, and I actually thought I might really have an eating disorder. My mom was pitching a fit as I got ready for work because I didn't want breakfast. I rarely ate, and when I did, I had long periods of anxiety worrying about where the fat would appear on my body. I had gone from 130 pounds to 105 in just a few months. At 5’6, 105 is not a healthy weight. Mom actually chased me around the house with a piece of toast I didn't want, and as I went out the front door, ignoring her, she threw the toast at my back, and started to cry. That got my attention, because we didn't really talk much, and I hardly felt like part of the family anymore, and frankly, I was surprised. That she would be concerned enough to cry caused me to start thinking seriously about the fact I might need some help getting my eating habits back on track. Now, as I look at a nation that struggles with weight issues in so many ways, I sympathize with people who get caught in that battle. I reflect on life as a teenage mom, and remember letting go of the dream of becoming a doctor, as I realized the grave responsibility I had of raising the children I loved so incredibly much. Instead, I spent eighteen years pursuing an Associate’s degree, working, and raising children. The day I received that degree in the mail is marked indelibly in my mind. I vowed the time would come when I would continue my education, although that day seemed unbelievably far away at that moment. I had no idea how or when, but I distinctly remember saying I would do it - and I did eventually, but my dreams of pursuing a career as a physician were long gone by the time I went back. I aimed for something more practical, and which would place far less demands on me to obtain. Yet now, I see the myriad ways the education I got helps me, and I am grateful for the path I ended up on. I spent many years of my life living mostly trying hard to not make other people angry. I learned how quickly people will take advantage of that, and how brutal they can be. Living in fear and dread is not living, but having the courage to change a lifetime is nearly as frightening. I know now who I am created to be, and how I should be treated by others. I also know how fragile people can become, and how easily they can be damaged. I have seen there is restoration and healing and hope available to everyone - no matter how they got to where they are. Regrets? Yes, my story has some regrettable actions and decisions, and sometimes pain and fear, but there were also many wonderful moments of joy and hope. And my heart is not full of regret. I see how all the events of my life are woven together into a story nobody else could live, because it is mine. Yours is, too. Think about it. Own it. Release any regrets and bitterness you might have. It’s your story, it’s important because you lived it and now you are who you are. Maybe you will identify a pattern you don’t like. The beauty of life is that it can be changed. Your story can be changed. Maybe you will gain insight and understanding as to why you are the way you are. Learn from it - and share it so others can learn as well… What is your story? A religious leader once asked Jesus: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments” (Matthew 22:35-40). Everything hinges on loving God, and loving people. It’s a huge and scary commitment to take on, and you don’t have to love my God, or even believe in my God for me to love you. You just have to be a person. I think some Christians are better at loving people than others are, but that doesn't let anyone off the hook. Frankly, it scares me a little bit as my faith gets stronger and I travel further along this spiritual pathway. I know who I am, and my flaws, imperfections, and weaknesses, and I know how quick I am to judge sometimes, and I realize letting all that love in and out is a lot of work. I have to be diligent in guarding my heart, and keeping myself in check. I don’t always even know how to love. It is truly a lot of work. There have been people in my life who I have come pretty close to hating, actually. There are all kinds of jokes out there about loving your haters because they helped you get where you are. I do believe I am a stronger person because of the difficult people in my life, but I usually appreciate them in a sarcastic, rather than loving, way. Yet, I am commanded to love, so I have to commit myself to forgiving them and finding peace so I can love. That is one of the most difficult things I have ever tried to do. It is a struggle I may face my whole life, but that doesn't mean I stop trying, and it doesn't mean I just decide to ignore my feelings and go on with my life. I am told to love people, so I have to figure it out. There is no room for bitterness and revenge in love. We get a lot of messages from a lot of different people at The Torch. I pray for many, many people - often they are people I don’t know personally, or I am just acquainted with them. I find as I pray for people, love for them grows and I become concerned for them. Some people have very heartbreaking stories, and I contemplate those and work hard to understand their lives and their humanity. Sometimes I stop working in the food truck, and I look out over the crowd of people, and I pray for a heart of love and compassion. It’s easy to love the people we know well, much more difficult when we don’t know them at all. When we love someone, really love him or her, we put ourselves out there and take risks to support that individual, because we want the best possible outcome . Working to love others has caused me to realize the importance of setting aside my comfort zones, and making sacrifices in my own life so I can do more for them. It has also softened my heart towards God, and allowed me to experience faith as He moves mountains and helps me to show love in a world that pretty much rejects it in favor of self. Let’s face it, you can’t be selfish and really love others. If you love your family and 100% of your concern is always with taking care of them, that is fine, but don’t tell me you love others when nothing you do shows it. We are called to love more than just our families. We are called to love people as much as we love ourselves. That's huge, and frightening. Loving others is scary, because taking risks is scary. And to love others we often have to take risks. I have huge burdens on my heart for some next steps for The Torch. There is no way we can accomplish them ourselves, but we so passionately want to show an undeniable love and hope to this world we are asking God to move a lot of mountains. I often find myself living with just a little bit of fear deep in the pit of my stomach when it comes to The Torch, because taking steps of faith and striving to love people is often unnerving. I am certainly not the person I would have chosen to lead the way as we blaze this trail, but I am going to do my best to show the world what happens when you love God and love people. Hope is what happens. I promise you there is no situation, no person, who is completely hopeless. She might be frustrating. He might be infuriating. She might be hurtful. He might be spiteful. She might be depressing. But nobody is completely hopeless. People are here for us, for me, to love. I can’t love people and believe in hope for them if I am too busy judging them or making excuses to not get involved with their lives. I know I will never love as perfectly as God loves. But I do know I am trying to develop faith in God that teaches me and leads me to the point where I lose all my fears and take all the risks He sets before me to show people how valuable they are and how important it is they never give up hope. Read these words over and over again: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments” Think about what they mean. Let them soak into your life. Examine your heart and who you are. Take risks. Love. Love. Love. One early morning, Sarah posted a random status update on The Torch Facebook page. She said:
2am thoughts...so many people out there need help and can't get it for one reason or another. Agencies are over extended, they don't qualify, etc. What if we loved each other so radically people no longer had to go to agencies for help? What if we just helped each other out? What if we did with less so others could have more? What if we judged less and helped more? One of our followers answered, “Then people wouldn't feel so completely lost.” That comment resonated with me. What a painful life to walk around this earth feeling completely lost. There have been a few times in my life when I felt lost and completely alone - even though there were people with me. I keep thinking how Sarah’s words shouldn't paint a picture of a Utopian world - that post should not have been a profound status which elicited such a deep response from a reader. This is a very tough world to live in. The struggle to survive beyond existence and to pursue the American dream often takes precedence over everything else. Yet it is possible, even if you appear to be achieving the dream life, to feel completely lost. We are a society which verbalizes the importance of people over material possessions, but in reality, our possessions quite often rank far higher in value than the lives of the human beings whose paths we cross. We don’t love people. Most of the time we don’t even try to muster the tiniest bit of affection for anyone who is not a part of our immediate circle of family and friends. We snarl and swear and curse at the idiots cutting us off in traffic. We often snicker behind the backs of those who are different from us. One time I was on a school trip - with a bunch of eighth graders. We were standing in line to visit the place we were at. It was a very long line, with an hour wait. We were near a park, and there was a homeless man sleeping on a bench in the park. A large group of students decided it would be funny to go pose all around him and take pictures. They were cracking themselves up. Most of the adults in the group were watching them and laughing, too. I told the students to knock it off, but they didn't listen, after all, their mockery was being affirmed by the other adults in the group. None of those individuals saw a homeless MAN there. They saw an object, something abstract and unrelated to them which provided a humorous photo op. So, who was more completely lost? The man who slept on the bench in the park where thousands of strangers passed by uncaring? Or the teens and adults who had no capacity to care - who mocked instead? I don’t know if it is worse to be completely lost in this world and not even recognize it, or to fully know it and fully give up. Both are equally lost. Both are in need of some radical love. I don’t think what Sarah and I have done with The Torch should be an exception, it should be the rule. We should all try to love more. We should try to figure out how to radically love, to the point where it inconveniences our lives and affects our pocketbooks. Our love should be so radical we lose sleep over trying to figure out how to do more. We should walk around focusing our attention on the needs of other people. So what if we have to get up early? So what if we already have to work all day, and then find ourselves committed to helping others at night? So what if we really would prefer to save our money to purchase things for ourselves? So what? Radical love should overcome all those obstacles. Radical love should open our eyes to see there are people walking around completely lost. Radical love should allow us to do with less so others can have more. Radical love should soften our hearts, and overwhelm us with compassion. Radical love should fill us with a desire to make life easier for others. Radical love should not let anyone we come in contact with continue to feel completely lost. Radical love should make our hearts beat with passion to change from a materialistic, selfish, cliquey society - to a community of sharing, acceptance, and wholeness. Radical love shouldn't be radical. It should be the only kind of love there is. Especially if you call yourself a Christian. Yesterday was a very long day. I left the house at 7:00 AM and returned around 9:30 PM. Then I went for a walk. I was so tired when I finally went to bed last night - I planned I would be sleeping late today since I didn’t have any meetings or anything else scheduled. I woke up once early in the morning and refused to look at the clock, just turned over and went right back to sleep. I woke up again somewhat later, and was sure it had to be at least 8:00, which is quite late for me. I blinked several times when I looked at my watch - because it couldn’t possibly say 6:29, could it?
It did! For crying out loud. I felt tired still! I was determined to sleep a little later. I closed my eyes. And I laid there, becoming more wide awake by the minute. I finally couldn’t stand lying still any longer, so I got up. And I went for a run. But I have been pondering all morning about how planning doesn’t always work out how I - well - plan for it to. Take The Torch, for example. We spent hours planning how it would look and what we would do, first on a napkin, and then more formally. We planned how other organizations might get involved with us. We planned how our events would look. We planned the services we would offer. We planned and planned and planned all those essential logistical items long before we actually even had a food truck. Then we got the truck - and things became so real, and often we found we had to abandon the original plan and go with an alternative which would work so much better. The Torch doesn’t look exactly like those initial plans and dreams did. We have been surprised that, while we planned to partner with other non-profit organizations, we have actually found far more fulfilling, enriching, and helpful partnerships with small businesses of all things. Our events look similar to what we planned, yet they are always far better than what we anticipate. And, while we have been able to offer many of the services we originally planned to offer, we have not offered them in the way we envisioned. There are a few things we planned that we have not been able to do yet, but we know the time will come when they will happen, and they might not look exactly how we planned. Life can be like that, as well. Nobody plans to be homeless, or jobless. Nobody plans to have a fall out with family, and lose that familial connection. Nobody plans for life to crash and friends to turn on them. Nobody plans to endure a nasty, painful divorce. Nobody plans to lose loved ones. Nobody plans to find him or herself mired in a sea of hopelessness. Those things are just not in the plans, but they happen. And, unfortunately, in this organized, scheduled, plan-filled society, when those things happen to people there tends to be a lack of sympathy. After all, if people planned better, they could avoid all those bad things, right? You would think so. It seems logical. |
AuthorRhonda Callanan Archives
February 2022
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