The Water Bottle That Broke The Camel's Back

This is another embarrassing post. Hopefully one day I'll be able to start peaking about how wonderful I am, but for now, it's just a lot of confessions and mistakes.

So here's another one.

I'm working from home right now, staring at a laptop in my parent's dining room.
It's thrilling.


Downstairs, there's another group, also "working." That would be my brother Jordan's band, and true to teenage form, they are LOUD, and even when they finally turn off the amps and stop banging on the drums, they come up to the kitchen (next to the dining room), and turn on the blender, using up all of the frozen fruit that I eat for lunch and the protein powder I drink for breakfast.

I walked in to see what was happening, and that's when I saw it: THEY WERE DRINKING MY FAVORITE WATERS THAT YOU CAN'T BUY AROUND HERE AND I HAD PURCHASED IN TEXAS.

I was livid. Who do these boys think they are, to just come in here and be loud and eat all my food? How dare they??

Forgotten was my mother's request from the previous day:
"Natalie, there are so many boys who come through this house- THIS is my mission field. Will you join me in praying for them?"
"Of course!" I answered quickly, innocently batting my eyes and promising I would be nothing but, well, missionary-like towards this ragtag band of teenage boys who curse and drink and smoke.

And here I was, 24 hours later, storming out of the house practically in tears over something as trivial as a water bottle.

Did I learn nothing this year? Nothing about entitlement, nothing about trusting the Lord to provide, nothing about how at the end of the day, it's not about the stuff, it's about the people?

How could I fail this first test?

There will be many more times when these boys step on my toes, when they mess up my space or bother me beyond the usual brotherly spats.
It's my job- my joy and my calling- to continue to love them despite these trivial imperfections.

Easy? No.
With man, this would be impossible. But nothing is impossible with God.

Please join me in praying for these lost boys, these wonderful brothers and their silly friends, who steal my frozen fruit and don't really care how loud they are. Pray that their eyes would be opened to all of the wonderful things the Lord has done for them, and pray that they would begin to use their musical gifts to glorify His name.

Casting Stones

When they kept on questioning Him, [Jesus] straightened up and said to them, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." John 8:7

 What a picture this scene must have been:  the angry rabbis standing at the head of an uncontrollable crowd, screaming, pushing, fighting, demanding justice. The onlookers at the outskirts, watching the whole thing unfold, too afraid to lift stones themselves but never brave enough to step into the middle, to try to stop the onslaught, to et caught in it themselves. Jesus' followers- like Peter- raring to go, to take out the Pharisees, to make them hurt as much as they made everyone else hurt. Jesus, eyes full of love and pain, saving yet another of His own.

The woman, the adulteress, probably covered in dirt and scratches, ashamed, humiliated, lying on the ground between them all, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her alive (check out Numbers 16:31 for that story).

It's hard to be caught in your own sin.


Last night, I was talking to my parents about my great aunt, my abuelita's sister. In the months since Abuelita died, Grace has been alone, devoid of her best friend and almost her mother, for at 11 years her senior, Abuelita had raised Grace, too. She's been living in an apartment- alone- on food stamps, and yesterday I was going to make some cookies to bring over to her, he last of the living aunts whom I actually like.

But then I found out that my dad's cousin, her nephew, had moved in with her. This guy is a weirdo if I've ever met one. A full grown man, he spends his days on the computer, looking up trash and spreading it around. He doesn't clean up after himself and he's eating the little food she has.

She's too afraid of him to tell him to go.

I was livid.

I demanded justice from my father, who said the most we could really do was invite Grace out to dinner. Nowhere near mollified, I continued to brainstorm ways to get him out, to make him suffer, to see justice served.


Let she who is without sin cast the first stone.




I have become like the Pharisees, more interested in punishment than in loving people, more concerned with the rules than the heart. This man may be there because he thinks she's scared to be alone- and he's right. He may be providing protection amidst his mes. The best thing for me to do isn't to charge in, fire blazing, stones in hand...

The best thing I can do is do what Jesus did.

Love them.

Maybe that does mean taking Grace to dinner. Maybe it means being intentional about visiting. Maybe it means asking my dad's cousin tough questions- not in accusation but in true love.

The way of the Pharisee is easy.
But the way Jesus worked was better, and until I am without sin, it is not my place to cast stones.

Chalita (Grace) y Abuelita (Mercedes), 2010

Rush Hour Ruined the American Dream

On Monday, I decided it was time to make the drive up to Michigan. True to form, I ended up leaving hours later than I meant to, and found myself sitting in bumper to bumper traffic.


With no movement.


For hours.


"Wow," I thought to myself, "This is so cool. I get to sit in some of the most intense traffic in the country surrounding our nation's capitol. This is like living history. Am I lucky or what??"




Ok, maybe that was a lie.
Maybe my first reaction was some serious road rage- that intense hatred for all bright red blinking lights, particularly those snaking their way down the road in front of me for miles and miles with no end in sight. I'm pretty sure that whoever said the road to hell was paved with good intentions had never actually been there. I think the road to hell is going to be 495 during rush hour.


With construction.


And an accident.


And rubber- necking tourists.


And, hey, while we're at it, let's throw in some inclement weather.






I digress.


So I'm sitting in this traffic, and with nothing else to do, and I decide to scan the radio.
Static.
Commercial.
Sappy Christmas song.
Sappier Christmas song.
Trashy talk show.
Commercial.
Static.
"Hot" music... that's code for a song about sex, drugs or rock n' roll. Literally.




There's nothing decent on. I've never really loved the radio, but today I was absolutely overwhelmed with the amount of garbage on there. It's channel after channel of mindless distractions, which serve no purpose other than to keep your thoughts from your present circumstances until you get to new ones... where I'm sure more distractions will be ready and waiting.


And this is the American dream?? 


Where did we go wrong?
When did this happen?
What happened to the adventure in the world? Where are the men who don their armor to go slay the dragon and rescue the princess? Where are the women who make the whole room brighter with the tiniest twinkle in their eye?


When we spend all of our days distracting ourselves from reality, all we're left with are shells of bodies roaming the earth like dead men walking.

Ephesians 5:11-15 MSG 

Don't waste your time on useless work, mere busywork, the barren pursuits of darkness. Expose these things for the sham they are. It's a scandal when people waste their lives on things they must do in the darkness where no one will see. Rip the cover off those frauds and see how attractive they look in the light of Christ.

   Wake up from your sleep,
   Climb out of your coffins;
   Christ will show you the light!
So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times!

I'm not saying it's bad to have a job, or to drive to work, or even to listen to the radio.
But I do think it's time to remember that we are more than the miles we log or the songs we play. We walk this earth as beings created in the image of God, indwelt with His Spirit, with a destiny specifically designed for each one of us.


And that should give weight to our steps and purpose to our days.