I like this quote for the vulnerability it calls out. The willingness to lay down our ideas about what we can offer a world. It takes off some of the obnoxious, the know-it-all, the expert.

I like barefoot.

But I do think Jesus was relevant to His community and to His world. Jesus was relevant to the woman at the well. Jesus was relevant to Jairus’ daughter. Jesus was relevant to Mary.

Jesus is very relevant to me today, whether I’m a mommy under a pile of laundry or a woman looking for answers.

Whether relevant or not, today I stand, with nothing to offer but my own vulnerable self on a journey. I’m thankful Jesus meets me here.

Fun can obviously change our behavior for the better.
(Via Leonard Sweet)

“You asked for my hands
that you might use them for your purposes
I gave them for a moment then withdrew them
for the work was hard.

You asked for my mouth
to speak out against injustice.
I gave you a whisper that I might not be accused.

You asked for my eyes
to see the pain of poverty.
I closed them for I did not want to see.

You asked for my life
that you might work through me .
I gave you a small part that I might not get “too involved.”

Lord, forgive me for calculated efforts to serve you
only when it is convenient for me to do so, and
only in those places where it is safe to do so,
and only with those who make it easy to do so.

Father, forgive me
renew me
send me out
as a usable instrument,
that I may take seriously the meaning of your cross.”

© Joe Seramane, South Africa, from Lifelines, Christian Aid, 1987
(Thanks, Danielle, one of the most awake women on the planet.)

I, who had changed one diaper before in my life, was now a mother. My life’s ambitions had been so different, but I had tasted lots of Adventure and was ready for this one. Or so I thought. When seed met sperm, I was just thankful that my little human responsibility didn’t arrive by courier overnight, but that I became expanded, slowly at first, over those nine months of waiting.

Then she arrived and I held her to my breast and we started figuring things out together. I began an adventure into stretching that even my expanded belly couldn’t have imagined.

That first daughter was born a pioneer, always conquering new frontiers. And like on that first day she showed up, she keeps birthing me into these new places.

She was there with me through my first few months of surrender. She pushed me into it. Whenever I wanted to do what I wanted to do, she insisted that we do what she wanted to do. She was not even a few months old and, of course, being the adult, I relented. Finally, when she was about six months old, I laid it all down. I laid down my expectations of what life was meant to look like now. I laid down my dreams, because it had become clear that our lives were now inextricably linked and it wasn’t about to change. My life no longer belonged to myself, but my responsibilities and dependencies crawled around outside of me.

I couldn’t imagine life without her anymore and I didn’t have time to do much else, so I had to change. I had to lay down pretty much every piece of certainty I had carved out about myself in the previous years. What I needed? It didn’t matter. I had to learn to function at the level of absolute necessity. She pushed me to become clear about what was really important in my life and helped me get my priorities straight. I was finally beginning to grow up.

On that day she moved through me and out of me, I had started off on a journey I had absolutely no clue about. I wasn’t a girl who had given much thought to motherhood. I just imagined it would work well with the life of a writer, because I could be at home and the kids would be at home too. So I thought we’d be ok.

As the months passed, I finally began finding my feet beyond diapers, naptimes, feedtimes and laundry. I began adjusting to my new responsible, mothering life. Then, when she was nine months old, we were getting ready to fly off to South Africa—to introduce our daughter to family and friends there—including a ten-day stopover in the south of France first.

Two days before we flew off to the vineyards of Pézenas, Beziers and eventually Stellenbosch, two days before I could taste the brie and every round of unpasteurized cheese that existed in the Languedoc-Roussillon region, I took a pregnancy test.

As the positivity surfaced and became a bold red line across the pee stick, I realized I had more expanding to do. Apparently there was more I needed to learn and still more I needed to lay down, starting with the world’s best red wines and, yes, all that cheese in France.

This question came out of the words in Judges 5: 7
[Life changed dramatically in Israel (my words)]
because you arose, Deborah,
arose as a mother in Israel.”

Today, my “rise up” comes out of a piece of information I have been carrying this past week.

Last week, while sitting comfortably in the stylist chair, catching up on some magazine time, I found this article in Elle Canada of August 2009 called “Out of Africa,” with the subhead: “In East Africa women are paying for a horrific war with their bodies. Can they fight back” (Unfortunately no copy of it available online. So glad I unashamedly asked to take their copy home.)

The horrendous story of what is going on with women in the Congo (DRC) is not new to me. What is new, is this little bit of information that I had somehow not caught onto before and stirs up the warrior in me.

“In 2005, the United Nations passed the Responsibility to Protect, which stipulates that governments must ensure the safety of its citizens and protect them from genocide, war crimes, ethnic cleansing and crimes against humanity. If they fail to do so, the international community can intervene.”

The international community can intervene. The international community can intervene.

“So far, no foreign government has made an effort to stop the rapes in the DRC.”

Why not? I know many answers. Blah-blah-blah. I am so done with the control and greed, the silence and apathy. I am ready for change in the Congo. I am just not satisfied with apathy.

May the righteous anger today and the prayers I am seriously crying out with every part of my being right now, birth change into this injustice. Come on, world. I know Heaven is crying out for change in this story of women in the Congo. And change can only come through us.

As a daughter of Apartheid, I know that pressure from the international community can availeth much. As a daughter of the King, I know the prayers of a righteous person availeth even more.

Our prayers alone are also not enough either, but it is what I can do today. Please pray with me. Stand with me. Rise up with me today. I will not be satisfied until Kingdom comes in the Congo as it is in heaven.

My Amen today is a, Come On!

Lord, hear our cries.
Earth, hear the cries of your women.
Women, hear the cries of our sisters.

Note on the photo: I found the image of the woman fleeing the violence in Eastern Congo here, but it refers to it being accessed at z.about.com I couldn’t find it there, but I couldn’t get this image out of my consciousness, so I decided to use it anyway. I hope that’s okay.

Homelessness has doubled over the past year in Japan as the nation faces economic downturn. Some say once-vaunted community and company support has frayed and many people now sleep in parks or 24-hour Internet cafes.

NEWSCOM

Checking out my “Press This” feature. Mmm. Really liking it.