Hey!
How are you??
No, really: How are you?
Just wanting to check in with y’all (yes, gonna stick with “y’all” since the majority voted against a nickname. sigh.)… I’m wondering how the week has been for those of you who may have typed it all out here last week. Wondering how our hearts are, and if those blood-stained hands were able to do some work.
So, in five words, leave it anonymously or claim it. But tell me: How are you?
The phone rang in the middle of my smoothie-making evening: ”Mandy? We’ve been meaning to ask y’all something. Do you have a second?”
“um… yeah… But, this is making me nervous.” (How else am I supposed to respond to a question like that?!)
“Well, we’re going through our Will, and… there’s no pressure… but we were wondering if you and Drew would be willing to take the kids if something were to happen to us?”
Suddenly, all smoothie-making stops, and I stand expressionless at the kitchen sink.
Because I know the significance of her words.
I remember that long-ago surge of crazy-making maternal instinct; I know that it can take over a woman and make her manic to protect her child. I have distinctly and clearly thought: “I’d give my life for the sake of this life inside me.” And, here she was, thinking of the “what ifs.”
I know how important this question was.
And, she’s not the first to ask us this question.
The irony leaves me nearly breathless. The irony of knowing that others would trust Drew and me, as inexperienced as we are, to raise their children if something were to happen. But, God hasn’t given us that entrustment yet…
In that moment–when I hang up the phone, my heart wide and bare and questioning–I imagine myself shaking my fist at God and screaming “See?!!? We’d make great parents, damnit!!”
But I don’t.
Instead, I sit down and type out this blog post. And I wait for the day when we will be the ones saying to trusted friends: “If something were to happen to us...”
I’ve spent some time this weekend thinking through what to write here next… How in the world do we carry on after what happened last week? But, then again, nothing here has really changed. This is still a tiny little blog with random musings and spewings from my mind to yours… And y’all still add pieces of your own mind, and we still have a conversation.
We just got down & dirty last week, by coming clean. And people are still coming clean, by the way… And I am still amazed and thankful…
So, back to my grand ideas for what’s next for you, my “mind-readers.” (Maybe we will be called mynd-readers. And maybe our theme song will be “Free-Bird”) Well, I had these grandiose ideas for a snazzy new video blog for all of you, especially any new people that decided to stick around after the dust settled. But, my body seems to be taking longer than anticipated to get over the season’s complimentary sinus infection, and I wouldn’t be able to get through three sentences without coughing. (No pity-comments, please.) Needless to say, I’m disappointed.
Then, there was the idea of ….. well….. There is none. That’s the only idea I had. And here’s the part where try to come up with some chatty conversation-starting question or thought, so you will join in the convo and we can read what all the “mi(y)nd-readers” think about whatever is spewing from my mind.
I really think we should have a name. It sort of solidifies the group-experience. A way to say that we belong, & we have read what really is hidden in others’ minds… And we still love each other. Amen?
OH! Look! A thought!! Let’s take a poll: What will we call ourselves? (Warning: this could be the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. Except I had the same thought about that other thing. So who knows…)
And if you hate this naming idea altogether, I’d love some input on what y’all think we should do next. So feel free to comment. 
He said he wanted to talk about my blog.
He said he hadn’t read it, but he’d heard about it. From Drew and another local pastor…
He knew enough to know that unbelievable things were happening. And he said he wanted to make sure I was ok. We talked for a while about the power of confession, as well as what that does to the one doing the listening. And we talked about how I was to best steward the burdens that have been set down here.
I think it’s fitting that these words–your words–have come through the internet and landed in this corner of the blogosphere. Fitting because this blog has always been a type of confessional for me as well. I have laid some of my own burdens down in this blog. And now you, too. I’m glad you did. I’m so glad you did.
I like to think we are all standing shoulder to shoulder right now at the foot of the cross, holding out these secrets with open hands, trusting that Jesus’ blood-stained hands are going to reach down and take them away.
And I believe He will.
Sometimes those blood-stained hands come in the form of a person across the table from us at a coffee shop. Sometimes those blood-stained hands come from a brother or sister in Christ ready to pray when we come forward during Sunday worship. Sometimes those blood-stained hands look like a professional counselor with specific training and skills necessary to reach in our souls and help us remove the bad stuff. Sometimes those blood stained hands come in the form of our own fingers to keys, typing out words that no one will ever read, but that need to be typed out–before hitting delete.
It’s time for His hands to reach down. So, for the rest of this week, I’m going to tend to my own soul. I’ll still check in to see if anyone else has confessed on that post down there; but other than that, I’m going to let those blood-stained hands do the work.
Thank you to those who have confessed.
Thank you to those who have prayed.
Thank you to those who have encouraged.
See you back here Monday.
I’ve never seen anything like this before.
An overwhelming number of us have things locked deep down inside us that are ruling us. That are causing harm to us and to others. And we are paralyzed by shame and fear and guilt. We are silenced. Muted. For fear of rejection. For fear of losing our jobs. Our families. Our lives.
If anything has been made clear to me, it’s that we are bound by the chains of fear. We are enslaved to it. We are silenced by it.
Anonymous internet confessions only go so far. They give us a tiny taste of the freedom that we can know. But, there’s a hitch: nobody knows who you are, so technically you’re still hiding, right?
There’s one thing I’ve wanted to say over and over again: Say this out loud. Confess it to a safe person. To a person who can give you, or help you find, the help you need. It doesn’t have to stay this way. It doesn’t have to end this way. Talk to someone.
James words have echoed through my mind over the past two days: Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.
Please get that healing we so desperately need. For the sake of your soul. And for the sake of your loved ones.
