El Arroyo is a Tex-Mex restaurant in Austin, Texas.  I’ve never eaten there, but I follow them on social media because of the clever sayings they post on their outdoor sign.  Their hilarious quotes have spawned books, magnets, and greeting cards.  Recently, I laughed when I saw this one on a dishtowel: “Nothing is truly lost until your mom can’t find it.”  And that is the truth in my experience.  

I pride myself on my ability to locate most “lost” things in our home.  Once, when I was quite agitated with my boys for losing something, I told my daughter Riley that looking for things that others have misplaced would be her lot in life as a woman and mother someday.  She gave me a look of terror in response.

Jesus told a story about a woman looking for a lost object.  He said, “[I]magine a woman who has ten coins and loses one. Won’t she light a lamp and scour the house, looking in every nook and cranny until she finds it? And when she finds it you can be sure she’ll call her friends and neighbors: ‘Celebrate with me! I found my lost coin!’ Count on it—that’s the kind of party God’s angels throw every time one lost soul turns to God” (Luke 15:8-10 MSG).  The lost silver coin was worth about a day’s wages.  Jesus didn’t identify this woman as a mother, but I can’t help but imagine her as a mom whose child grabbed the coin without her knowledge and lost it.  Today, the woman would text her friends frustrated about both the lost coin and the culprit kid and then again with relief when she finally found it.   

No matter how the coin was lost, the woman panicked because the item of worth disappeared.  Once, I looked down and noticed my engagement ring missing from my finger.  I franticly searched everywhere.  I got lucky when I found it in a plastic shopping bag.  It had slipped off when I’d stuffed a bunch of clear wrapping from the dry cleaner into the larger bag.  Relief flooded my system when I discovered the ring was not gone forever. I felt happy that I’d found the ring that meant so much to me. 

We’ve all experienced the joy of finding something we thought was lost.  But in these stories, we are the thing of value represented by the coin or, in my case, the ring.  We may feel like we are lost, in the darkness, cut off from others.  We wonder if anyone is looking for us.  Maybe we believe shouldn’t be found after what we’ve done or said.  That we are not worthy, and so we hide.

But we are never out of God’s sight.  God knows where we are and will always seek a relationship with us.  God is always present.  We may try to isolate ourselves, but God refuses to give up on us.  And when we finally stop running from God, come out of the shadows, and ask God for help, the celestial celebration begins.  We were lost, but God waited patiently (or maybe impatiently) for us to recognize that his love was and is available.    

If mom (me) can’t find it at our house, there’s a good chance it’s lost forever.  But we are never, ever lost forever from God.  God always has us in his view and eagerly waits to welcome us out of hiding into the light of his love.   

“Ms. Tina are you happy?” asked “G,” one of my son Alex’s friends, who was over for a playdate.  G is a very observant child, so I wondered if he was asking about my general level of happiness in life or if he’d picked up on the fact that I’d had an emotional day.  So, I answered with a simple, “yeah,” hoping to deflect his inquiry.  I knew I was busted when G asked, “Do you lie?”  Not wanting to lie in that instant, I said, “Sometimes.”  He asked, “Are you lying now?  You look sad.”  His intuition was spot on.  I smiled at him and said, “I’ve had a weird day.”  He nodded and looked at me with great care in his eyes.  I changed the subject then, not wanting to ruin the playdate.  G is only nine years old, but he trusted his instinct enough to ask when he felt something was not quite right with me.  And when the conversation was over, I felt seen and heard.   

We’ve probably all been there – we feel down or sad and to compound the problem, no one seems to even notice.  The isolation grows when we don’t think anyone cares.  If someone would just ask how we are really doing in a sincere manner, then we wouldn’t feel like our burdens are so heavy because we wouldn’t have to carry them alone.  

I’m sure we’ve also been on the other side of the equation though.  We realize that someone doesn’t seem like themselves from their countenance or tone of voice or the way they walk.  I’m sure most of the time we stop and check on the person who seems out of sorts. But I know that I for one don’t always act when I know I probably should.  I tell myself I don’t want to bother them or even worse, upset them further.  Maybe I think that someone else who is a closer friend to them should be the one to take the initiative.  Perhaps I decide I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to engage right then. At times, all those thoughts could be true, and at other times, they might just be excuses. 

Our initial reactions don’t have to be our final ones, however.  When I hesitate to approach someone who I think may be having a tough time, I need to ask myself if I have a good reason or just want to avoid my own potential discomfort.  Is there an authentic reason to sidestep the conversation or am I rationalizing my own behavior?  We are the hands and feet of God, and God asks us to demonstrate his love, not only when it is easy and enjoyable, but when it is hard and messy.  God doesn’t ask us to fix everyone’s problems because that’s not possible.  Sometimes, just the mere fact of noticing that someone seems off kilter can be the thing that helps them begin to feel better.  Sitting with another and simply listening may be all we can do in that moment – and that might be all they need.  Knowing that someone is thinking about and praying for them may provide a measure of comfort that they can hang on to.  

G made a difference to me that day. I hope I can return the favor to him in the future, but in the meantime, I’ll try to overcome my reluctance to approach others when I sense their sadness.  Let us all step up to show God’s love to those around us by not only noticing when they might need an encouraging word or a kind gesture but acting on that impulse as well.     

On a recent college visit, my daughter Riley and I had the opportunity to see the juniors and seniors in the dance program perform. Riley plans to further her dance career after high school, so we enjoyed watching these talented young people move with precision and artistry.  When one of the dances ended, the dancers held their poses for several seconds after the music stopped.  The audience fell completely silent, and we could hear the dancers breathing loudly and rapidly, like they’d just run a race, which was essentially what they’d done. Even though I watch Riley and her friends dance a lot, sometimes I forget that dancers are athletes who exert considerable power and energy. I look at the beauty and grace of their dances and don’t always recognize their immense physical effort. Yet, in that moment when the dancers paused on stage and their breathing was heavy and strained, I realized we were all breathing the same air, but the ways in which we were breathing were very different. 

I’ve had this experience before. I have adult-onset asthma, so I know what it’s like to have difficulty breathing. While my condition is usually manageable, there have been times when I didn’t feel as though I could fill my lungs with air, and when you can’t breathe, you start to panic, which only makes it worse. Because of my history with asthma over the last twenty years, I don’t like it when people say “just breathe” to try and calm others. Sometimes, just breathing is not so simple. Sometimes, just breathing in and out is a challenge. I know that my experiences are not as bad as those whose asthma is not controlled or those who’ve suffered from Covid’s effects on their lungs.  We can breathe the same air but have very different experiences.   

Breathing is so basic that we usually take it for granted. Until we can’t breathe, and then we feel desperate. Most of us take the basics in life for granted: having enough to eat, enough money to buy the essentials, enough love and friendship to make life meaningful. But plenty of people lack easy access to the basics, and they aren’t necessarily a world away or that different from us. We can be in the same community, the same school or business, the same room and still have completely divergent experiences. Even when we appear to have similar lives on the outside, our inside lives, mentally and emotionally, can mean we don’t share the same feelings about the exact same events. And it may not help if we tell others to just do something differently, just get over it, or just don’t worry about it. 

God asks us to love one another many times throughout the Bible. Apostle Paul wrote, “Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in love” (Romans 12:9-10). If we are to devote ourselves to each other in love, then we must make every effort to look outside of our own experiences to try and understand what others think or feel. We must understand that things that come easily to us, even the very basics, may present incredible challenges for others.    

When we notice someone struggling to breathe, literally or metaphorically, we need to act in accordance with God’s instructions. Instead of giving trite advice, let us love them in ways that help alleviate their crushing burdens. We can lighten the heavy load for others and help them breathe easier.   

My daughter Riley is a senior in high school, and she asked her school counselor to write a recommendation for her college applications.  In our school district, when a student requests a recommendation, the parents must fill out a questionnaire about their student to help facilitate the process.  These questions included such gems, as “Describe the assets/characteristics that will set your child apart from thousands of college applicants.”  And, “What do you consider to be your child’s most outstanding personality trait?  Describe a situation in which this trait was evident.”  We also had to describe what made us most proud of our child with anecdotal evidence, our child’s role in our family, and the areas in which our child has shown the most growth in the past few years.  No pressure, parents, it’s just your child’s future on the line.

I avoided the questionnaire for about a week until Riley told me I had to get it done.  I wasn’t simply procrastinating though.  I was intimidated by the task before me.  How was I supposed to encapsulate my daughter’s personality?  I think she’s wonderful, amazing, and awesome, but I’m sure every other parent believes that about their child too.  I needed to detail the specifics that set her apart, but how could I choose from her outstanding qualities?  I love this girl and believe so strongly in all of her good and beautiful characteristics.  I finally put together answers for the form, but I felt agitated by the whole concept of reducing her wonderful being into small sound bites.

While I was troubled by the idea of capturing my daughter’s best traits in a few words, I think we do it all the time when it comes to God.  We try to make God as small and digestible as possible.  We say we worship an infinitely powerful God, but then we try to shrink God into our small boxes.  We ask God for simple rules, easy answers for complex problems.  We want God to fix it without asking what God wants us to do to help.  We fail to remember that God is the source of imagination, creativity, and inspiration.  God’s ability to love is greater than we can comprehend, but we often act as though God only loves and approves of the same people we do.   

In Ephesians, the writer prays for the church members and concludes by saying, “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!” (Ephesians 3:20).  Instead of assuming that God shares our limited human view, we can choose to believe that God is a willing and powerful participant in our lives and community.  

I didn’t enjoy minimizing the multi-faceted nature of my daughter.  I don’t want to do that to God either.  Instead of reducing God to trite, simplistic slogans, let’s choose to bask in the expansive wonder of our amazing God.   

One Sunday morning after worship, I held the door from the sanctuary to the lobby open for a friend.  She hesitated before coming through the door and then explained that she waited to make sure no one was coming around the corner.  Her comment made sense considering she uses a cane and therefore needs to be a bit cautious.  I told her that I understood because we have a swinging door between our kitchen and dining room and that I almost got hit by the door the other day when one of the kids came through it as I was about to go through it on the opposite side at the same time.  This has always been a potential problem in our home.  “You could just take it off the hinges,” she said with a smile.  I was surprised by those words because that had never occurred to me in almost fifteen years living in our house. While I don’t anticipate taking the door down, I was struck by the fact that I’d never even considered her suggested approach.     

I was with my writing group this summer when one of my friends said that she thought I give up too easily.  The minute the words came out of her mouth, I knew she was right.  I take rejection hard.  If an agent doesn’t like my manuscript and makes suggestions, I’ll try to make revisions.  Then I’ll send the manuscript out again a few times, but if the rejections continue, I’ll usually put the piece in a drawer assuming that if a small number of agents don’t like it, then all will hate it.  I don’t send it out over and over like some of the greatest writers in history.  No, I give up and move on to another project.  The door slams in my face, and I walk away.  I don’t continue to knock on the door, and never once have I thought so far out of the proverbial box that I’ve figured out a way to take the door off the hinges to get through the publishing maze.  

Sometimes in life it’s hard to know when to keep trying, to continue banging on the door of opportunity, or when it’s time to quit and move on to another season, project, or phase.  For someone who craves certainty, deciding whether to grind it out or abandon the fight is much more abstract than I’d like.      

Unfortunately, God doesn’t typically provide clear indications of when to start and stop.  Even when we pray in earnest, God’s thoughts on the matter may not be obvious to us.  Frustration and confusion may ensue when we don’t know whether to keep up the pursuit.  Because we know how Biblical stories turn out, I tend to forget that there are numerous instances in the Bible in which God’s people experienced long waits, in which they probably wanted to give up.  The Israelites spent forty years wandering until they got to the land promised them.  David was on the run for his life even after he’d been chosen as the future king of Israel.  Throughout their ordeals, though, God stayed with them.  God never abandoned them.  

And that is what I must remember: in a time of searching and waiting and deciding whether to stay the course or move onto something new, God is with me.  God is with us.  God doesn’t leave us or withdraw from us.  We must continue to pray and pursue God and have faith that we will know when it is time to act or refrain or bust down the door.  But in the meantime, we must rest in the comfort that God will be with us as we seek discernment.  God is present in the process, today and always.      

As our nation commemorated the twentieth anniversary of the attacks of September 11, 2001, I listened to person after person tell their stories on television, social media, and in one-on-one conversations.  Everyone who was alive on that awful day knows exactly where they were when the events unfolded, what they did, and how they felt.  In listening to these stories, I realized that while we all experienced the same events, the depths of our experiences varied significantly.  

I relived my own memories of watching the towers fall on television while working at the federal courthouse in St. Louis.  My husband and I waited in line that afternoon so I could give blood, only to learn later that there wasn’t much need for blood.  We joined our church family that night to pray and be in community to help ease the terror and uncertainty we felt.  While I don’t normally compare one person’s pain to another’s, in these circumstances, I knew that my pain paled in comparison to many others.  Then and twenty years later, I ached for the people who died, for those who escaped from the buildings, those who lost loved ones in the disaster, the children who never knew their fathers.  Their heartbreaking experiences filled me with grief.  

Because we lived through the events together as a collective, we all experienced some level of pain.  And we easily believe others when they tell us their stories of 9/11 and the depth of their pain.  Unfortunately, sometimes we tend to discount others’ pain when we haven’t experienced similar circumstances.  When someone tells us of their experience with racism or sexism or other prejudice, we may not believe the person if we have not endured that type of injury.  We may discount another’s pain when they tell us about a rejection they endured if they’re younger than us or if we don’t think the matter was as important as they did.  

Sociologist Brené Brown said, “In order to empathize with someone’s experience you must be willing to believe them as they see it and not how you imagine their experience to be.”  We need to resist the urge to think “it wasn’t that bad” or “they shouldn’t be that upset” when people trust us enough to share their pain.  Jesus commanded, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31).  We never doubt the depth or breadth of our own pain.  And so, if we are to love others as we love ourselves, this love should include the acknowledgement of our neighbor’s pain as they experience it.  

Thankfully, we don’t have to experience the same pain as another to support and empathize with them, we just need to believe them when they tell us about their pain. God believes us when we tell God about our pain.  When we believe others, we not only connect more strongly with them, but we also follow God’s command to love his people.  

I stopped to get a drink at Sonic one morning and offered my server a small tip.  He said, “I appreciate you.”  His response caught me off guard.  He hadn’t said “I appreciate it,” meaning the money or even the act of tipping.  His turn of phrase made me sit up straighter in my car and smile.  Basically, he’d made my day.  His words were still on my mind when a few days later after Sunday lunch, my mother-in-law said, “I’m so grateful for you.”  She gave me this compliment freely and out of the blue, and I felt valuable and worthy as a result.  Obviously, she knows me well, so her comment carried more weight.  But the sentiment of the two was similar because they focused their words of appreciation on me, as an individual. 

Many times, when we thank a person, it is completely right and appropriate to concentrate on their actions.  The Sonic server could’ve thanked me for giving the tip, and I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.  Of course, we should thank people when they do something for us.  But when we constantly thank people for their actions, our gratitude may appear transactional, not relational.  Admittedly, sometimes it’s hard to separate who a person is from their actions because their actions are an outgrowth of who they are.  However, if our coworkers, family members, or friends think we care for them only because of what they can do for us, we may diminish our relationships with them, especially with those closest to us.  Love and gratitude cannot be rooted only in the things one does for another.  

In letters to several churches, Apostle Paul told the congregants that he thanked God for them.  In Philippians, Paul wrote, “I thank my God every time I remember you” (Philippians 1:3).  What a beautiful sentiment that a person would thank God every time another person crossed their mind.  But even Paul occasionally fell into the trap of linking his gratitude to actions.  In some of his letters, Paul said that he thanked God for the people because of their faith.  In his letter to Rome, Paul wrote, “First, I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you, because your faith is being reported all over the world” (Romans 1:8).  When we tie our gratitude to actions, even acts of faith, our love may seem a bit conditional.

God’s love for us is unconditional. God loves us for who we are, not what we do.  While God may be more or less pleased with us depending on how we act or what we say, he doesn’t stop loving us based on our actions or how small our measure of faith may be on any given day.  Even though God appreciates our acts of service, his love is not based on what we do for him.  God is pleased that we are who we are, who he created us to be.

Let’s certainly thank others for what they do.  Let’s applaud them when they do well.  But let’s remind our people that we love them and are grateful for them simply because they exist in our world.  We build others up when we express our gratitude and love for who they are, not merely what they do, and we demonstrate a small bit of God’s infinite love for them at the same time.  

Earlier this summer, we were lounging beside the pool when my seventeen-year-old daughter Riley suggested we get in the water.  She wanted to sit on the steps in the shallow end.  But when I looked at that portion of the pool, I saw young mothers crowding the steps to watch their babies and toddlers splash around.  I told Riley that I would get in the pool but declined to occupy the steps.  I’d done my time in the shallow end.  I’d sat on those steps for years.  Not that I didn’t enjoy the time when my children were small, but I felt relieved that we were beyond that period as a family, especially with respect to the summer season.  

When my kids were little, I experienced a great deal of anxiety during the summer months.  Elementary school was out for the oldest ones, routine disappeared, and with four kids, I usually had a baby or toddler under foot as well. I worried about keeping the kids entertained and engaged, so I arranged swim lessons and numerous day camps that kept us on the move.  I didn’t understand the mothers who simply adored the summer and wrote about that love on social media.  They lamented summer’s end while I rejoiced to see the school supplies arrive in stores.    

But then, a few years ago, my perspective shifted.  I’m not exactly sure what happened.  Maybe it was because all my children were getting older, and no longer needed constant monitoring.  They could entertain themselves.  Maybe it was because all my kids learned to swim, so I didn’t have to hover as much at the pool.  Maybe it was partly because Covid shut everything down, including all day camps, and so we had to be more flexible and go with the flow.  But at some point, I started to relax.  I didn’t feel the need to fill every minute with activities.  I began to understand the other mothers who craved summertime and wished for it to continue indefinitely.  I felt calmer and began to thoroughly enjoy summer with my kids.

We can’t always pinpoint a moment when our perspectives shift because it usually involves a process.  At times, God asks us to engage in the process of change too.  God may want us to reevaluate our views or open our minds to new ways of looking at situations.  When I was younger, I held different beliefs about numerous things, including matters of spirituality and religion.  But as I grew up, matured, moved to new places, and met a variety of people, I also experienced new understandings about God.  I learned that my comprehension of God and the Bible was not the only way to interpret matters of faith.  Everything was not as black and white as I thought.  Different churches, educated clergy, and social justice advocates within religious denominations don’t always agree.    

As someone who likes rules and knowing what to do in all circumstances, I had to shift my perspective about faith.  I came to accept that we will not understand everything about God and that is okay.  Faith is not a math equation.  The writer of Ephesians said, “I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know him better.  I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people, and his incomparably great power for us who believe” (Ephesians 1:17-19).  Developing a relationship with God, learning more about the character of God, and understanding better God’s desire for us is a process.  A process in which God reveals himself continually so that we may know him better.  We must pray that we keep the eyes of our heart open to who God is, how much God loves all of us, and how he hopes we act, especially as to the outcast or oppressed.      

As my perspective shifted over time, I became more at ease with uncertainty and doubt. I became more at peace with developing a relationship with God that allows me to search and change as I understand God better.  No one person or church or denomination has all the answers.  If we stay open to learning, growing, and deepening our relationship with God, then we will more closely follow God’s hopes for us as his people.  And that may require a shift in a previous perspective.  

With God’s help and guidance, we will better follow God’s overarching command to love and care for his people. Then, we can dive deeper into our relationship with God instead of remaining in the shallow end of faith.    

Early this summer I was traveling solo for the first time in over a year-and-a-half when a woman sitting near me at the airport asked, “Will you watch my bags?”  I nodded yes.  There is a social contract that exists among women when we are by ourselves in places like airports.  I’ll watch your bags if you need to go to the restroom or visit the convenience store, and you’ll watch mine in turn.  When the woman came back, she sat down and said, “Thanks, mama.”  I wondered if I’d heard her correctly.  She was younger than me, but she wasn’t a kid.  Instead of taking offense, though, I smiled behind my mask as I realized that I have taken on the persona of mama in my life, not just in relation to my own children, but with almost everyone.  

My daughter dubbed me the “work mom” at the pool that we frequent because I try to get to know the young men and women who work there as lifeguards and servers.  I want them to know that an adult other than their parents is interested in their well-being and what they plan to do with their lives.  I’m a talker by nature, but I try to listen well so that I can follow up with them about high school and college or sometimes more personal matters like their family situations.  My mama instincts are strong, and I’ve accepted my role as mama to many.   

If you’d told me a few years ago that I would embrace this mama moniker for people other than my own children, I probably would’ve rolled my eyes and scoffed.  When my children were little bitty and needed my undivided attention for every detail of their lives, I couldn’t see past my own circumstances.  I didn’t have the time or energy to concentrate in depth on other children.  But then my two oldest became teenagers, and I experienced a shift in my perspective.  I was around teenagers and young adults a lot more.  I could try to be a positive influence without the pressure and anxiety of raising them.  I really want to pour out love and attention to these young people.  My mama outlook became less self-centered and more community focused.  

Most of the imagery we associate with God is linked to fatherhood, but God is a mother too.  In one instance, Jesus himself spoke about God’s mothering side when he lamented the people of Jerusalem’s failure to follow God.  Jesus said, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you were not willing” (Matt 23:37; Luke 13:34).  Even though Jesus scolded the people in this verse, God incarnate compared himself to a mother who longs to gather her children together and protect them.  I can see and feel the direct connection between Jesus’ words and the hearts of the mamas I know. 

God’s desire to bring people together extends beyond the citizens of ancient Jerusalem.  God longs to pull all of us into God’s community where we, as the people of God, can love and support one another.  We can serve God and extend the positive qualities of parenting, especially mothering, to those beyond our immediate families to reach all of God’s people.  We are God’s family.  Let’s take care of one another as if we believe it.