With A Little Help From My Friend

This is my dear friend John Bergin and his “son” Hooch. We have known each other a lot of years (man I am getting old!) and shared ring-side seats to each others trials and triumphs in life. John is on of those great friends in life you can ALWAYS count on, as I did when I needed some assistance picking out wines for the Reckoning event tomorrow night. It was not just about shopping (I could have done that myself), it was about engaging in actions of true friendship.

People like John are tangible expressions of “Love thy neighbour.” Without action, the aforementioned phrase is meaningless; just words on a page. Love is a verb, not a word solely to elicit fuzzy feelings. Love implies, patience, sacrifice, courage, care, joy and endurance to name a few; it is not a one-time decision - it must be tended to regularly and often.

I hope that you, my readers, also have dear neighbours who love you well and are loved well by you. It is this kind of love that makes living worthwhile. Live Well!

I Love A Parade!

Last weekend went to the Gay Pride Parade in Amsterdam with some fellow yanks (sorry Texans and Southerners you will have to cope) to take in the festivities. Now being a California girl, I have been to epicenter of Pride parades in San Francisco and Hollywood; Amsterdam is a much tamer version of reality but the sister cities could learn from their Dutch ally.

Of course the house music was going full steam and the boys and girls were getting’ their twirls on much like anywhere else but there were a few twists on the parade boats that might stop the Americana parade. Firstly, any parade day in Holland is a family affair for all generations, cultures and creeds. I mean you saw just about everyone there and not to just gawk, they were fully invested in having a good time. Grandmothers, grandkids and every age in between lined the canals to cheer and celebrate. The parade may be dramatic but it is not vulgar (well the US boats were the sad exceptions). There was just an air of fun, community and joy.

Another difference, there were no protesters. Churches passed invitations throughout the crowd to join their fellowships offering a message of love. A group of churches even had a boat in the parade with a banner boasting of God’s love for EVERYONE.

Lastly, every high-ranking government office and officer (city, education, police, hospitals, etc) was represented in the parade. It did not seem like an obligation or public relations gig; they seemed to embrace it more as an opportunity to show their support. Many of these official boats created dance routines and skits, which they performed all along the parade route. We sat next to a gentleman who he took the time to point out all the dignitaries in the parade and translated for us. Our private narrator of the parade was there with his two daughters and he was really a wonderful host. Before he left I asked if he been before and he said yes, he comes every year with his kids. I asked him why and he said, “Because it is a parade and it is always fun; it is always a celebration.”

All these elements made me wonder how a country that prides itself on a no nonsense nonreligious lifestyle could foster such a compassionate environment. You may not agree with the practice or lifestyle of homosexuality, but it is something is woven the fabric of our global human existence much the same way as relationships, lying, theft and aging. It is here no matter if you choose to embrace, ignore, criticize or rejoice. I believe a follower of Jesus cannot take the easy out of indignation or self-righteousness to dismiss or by take a perceived moral high ground. After all it says judge not lest you be judged by the same measure (not for the same sin - your sins will be weighed with the same magnitude with which you dole out condemnation on others – ouch!).

Many people wear he WWJD bracelets, but I wonder if they really asks themselves what would Jesus do if he showed up on Gay Pride Day. My bet is that he would approach people much the same way he did when the crowd threw a prostitute at his feet for stoning, or the way he did when he walked among the untouchables – the leapers, the sick and the poor. I would be willing to bet that he would be moved to compassion and from that place act in love, wisdom and restoration. I am not saying that compassion was the aim of the day in Amsterdam, but I sensed a strong undercurrent of it in the crowd. Could that be why the Gay community here does not feel the need to be so militant or defensive in living out their lives because people have made room in their hearts to meet them as people first and homosexuals somewhere else down the line of priorities? Makes me think and wonder. I hope it does the same for you as well.

Hello Goodbye

I spent most of last week at the International Mentoring Network’s Humana 02.08 conference. I had a wonderful time and met some amazing people who are asking questions about how the post-modern church will shape the future and how we might charter a path to get there. I was truly inspired to meet people working all over America, Switzerland, Germany, Scotland and England who are seeking in the same heart, but have so many ways to express the love of God for the world, creation, and mankind. This gathering was also coupled a few music events that featured Jettison Never.

There was also a reunion of with what my new friend Derek (a.k.a “Tangent”) coined as the “trifecta,” Shawna Snow, Ali Watson and myself. It was the first time we had been together since I left Europe. There were many good times filled with deep conversations and lots of laughter. It was great to see them but it broke my heart for us to separate again after such a sweet reunion.

I flew home on Sunday, to make the acquaintance of my new electronic friend, my MacBook Pro! I have not given her a name (yes it is a her – there are ways to tell) but I prefer the American Indian approach where we wait until the character of the child reveals itself.


Last but not least I have had to face one of my hardest goodbyes to date. I sent in my letter of resignation to 13thFLOOR on today. This decision was labored in prayers, consultation and guidance. I will really miss the people and the love I encountered in South Africa. I will miss the students most of all and I am grateful for every second I spent with them. I am happy that what they taught me will always be with me. I think I grew in ways that would not have been possible without being there. South Africa was truly mother Africa to me and she nursed me in ways that I never would have dreamed.

Right now I feel like so much is going in and out of my life. I feel like the moment something ends then something new begins and vice versa. The Beatles' song Hello, Good Bye seems fitting, so I will leave you with this.

You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello

Meeting Isabella

Zambujal de Baixo, in the hills above Sesimbra was my first wandering destination of my sabbatical. Sesimbra is idyllic in views as it is a peninsular beach town nestled in the heart of a one of Portugal’s national forest. Because it is away from most of well traveled tourist spots you have a chance to peak into the daily lives in Portuguese culture. The people are very friendly and treat each other as a collective family. It was also a challenge because no one spoke more than a few sparse words of English. I became know as “Niña” in town by most of the people at the morning fish and produce markets. I am sure that I was comic relief to most as I crudely communicated in hand motions and Spanish.

On my second trip to town, I decided to walk around the local shops before heading back home. I walked into the local haberdashery to see if they sold knitting needles and handmade yarns. The shopkeeper was on the phone as I came in and greeted her. I could tell that this conversation was especially intense and even though she smiled my way as I entered, she was involved with something that was causing her incredible pain. When I looked into her face I could see her struggling to hold back tears and her voice’s timbre was elevated and constricted. Something was very wrong.

I knew that helping a customer at this point was the last things she needed, especially one that would require extra effort to cross the language barrier. But I could not leave either. I needed to stay there – so I waited until she hung up the phone. As she put the phone down, she turned her back to me and I watched her wipe the small collection of tears from the corners of her eyes. As she prepared herself to face me, I summoned all the Spanish I could recall and made a decision to disregard how lame I might sound with mispronunciations and bad grammar because I really felt I needed to speak with this woman. Eventually, she sighed deeply as her final resignation before donning a plastered smile to face the insistent customer in her store.

I swallowed my shame, immediately took her hand and asked her what was wrong. She paused for a moment and looked at her hand in mine, then looked into my eyes as if she was searching for something. She must have found it because she proceeded to tell me her doctor just told that she has breast cancer and was going to have a double mastectomy. Then the tears came. I thought of a million things I wish I could say to her in that moment, but without a translator my words would offer no comfort, maybe words on my part were never necessary at all. The only thing I could do at that moment was let her cry and allow her emotions wash over me as she spoke words I mostly did not understand. I hugged her, and said that I could not speak Portuguese well, but that my heart was full for her and that I was sorry. She smiled at my childish attempts, and said I no speak English pero I see you heart.

We prayed together and continued our conversation of the heart. In those 30 minutes we were undisturbed and got to know and see each other. It was one of the best conversations that I have had in a long time and we barely used words. When both our tears subsided and were ready to face the outside world again, I told her my name and asked for hers. “Me, Isabella,” she said, then I said in Portuguese, “It was nice to meet you Isabella.”

Digitally Enhanced Bliss

Thanks to the inventions of techno-rats, I had some amazing conversations with friends that are part of my emotional family. I do not think that I have felt this content and blissful in a while. Friends that form part of my emotional family have a way of enhancing my life like nothing else. You know those people who just get "it" about you and need no explanation when it comes to that "it" no matter what the circumstances. I feel like a can do and face anything when I feel loved and understood by my friends.

"How's your heart?" That's the question my soul longs to hear and ask. These friends know how to access the fragile parts of me, holding it tenderly and lovingly without reservation. When I do the same for them, I discover joy. We ask in our unique ways with different words but the essence is the same, "how are you doing at the core of all that defines who you are?" That is the question that many long to be asked by someone of significance and to have them listen, really listen with from their core. Something happens when you are seen and see others at this level of reality. It is almost like touching something divine and secret.

So I sip my wine and toast this sweet feeling of genuine bliss.