Tag: connection

Edward* and Jesus

November 12, 2022 /

A grande skim mocha, extra hot, no whip, is one of my love languages and a luxury I indulge in every morning instead of breakfast. I know, I know. Let me live.

Some mornings very early I bike with my coffee to a beautiful spot nearby, but when my extroverted self needs the hum and hubbub of other humans around, I stay for a couple hours at Starbucks – spend time with Jesus and writing or prepping to speak.

There is a socially awkward man, Edward*, who is also there very early every morning. He looks like he should be a clerk at a rare bookshop in London, but his actual job is working at a grocery store nearby here in Minneapolis. I’m guessing he’s on the Autism spectrum. He’s single, bald, with glasses, and always alone. Sometimes he brings a paper bag with a boiled egg from home for his breakfast. He just sits, staring out the window, but his face lights up when I come in.

He seems lonely so I try to be friendly for a reasonable amount of time (60 seconds?). Remember that time I posted on Instagram about seeing something and saying something?

I say “Hi” and comment on the weather and ask him if he’s working today and if he prefers his newspaper to online. Then I make a point of putting my earbuds in and moving on with my day. He returns to staring out the window.

Here’s the thing. On the days Edward doesn’t work, I wonder if I’m the only person who speaks to him. This morning as I put my earbuds in, the Holy Spirit whispered, “As you did it to the least of these, you did it to Me.”

I think about Jesus and Edward. Would Jesus spend unlimited time talking to him? How much time is enough to love Edward well? I mean Jesus had other people to meet and heal too, right? Which of the things on my “to do list” would Jesus think was more important than talking to Edward?

We can’t love people in a hurry.

I thought of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4 – another person, who although she had several husbands, seemed to be isolated, outcast and lonely. Or Matthew the tax collector, or Zacchaeus. Jesus was a first class noticer and an inviter.

Jesus’ life was full of holy interruptions He made time for.

I heard someone say we need to “Walk through life at the speed of love.”

Even when I was super stressed with a long to-do list and two active toddlers to care for, my mentor said, “If you’re too busy to take a pot of soup to someone, you’re too busy.”

Or maybe today she’d say “If you’re too busy to talk to Edward, you’re too busy.”

Yes, I know there are seasons when you’re caring for too many others, or your health is compromised in some way, or your husband is MIA and you’re the one in need of soup. Be gentle with yourself and accept the help or the companionship of Jesus who shows up in the guise of a stranger at Starbucks or a pot of soup on your doorstep.

But if you can, take time for holy interruptions like Edward.

*Not his real name.

3 Ways to Connect in an Isolating World

April 11, 2018 /

This week, John and I are on vacation in Florida.

We step into pick-up games of tennis where we know no one.

I go to Starbucks where (unlike at home), no one knows me.

We go to church and look for connection among a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Whether you’re an extrovert or introvert, confident or shy, we’ve all been in situations where we walk into a social gathering, a work event, the elevator in the building where we live, a church foyer, and know no one.

With so many eyes focused on phone screens,  world is becoming more and more isolating. A Huffington Post article says,

Our time has been called the “age of loneliness.” It’s estimated that one in five Americanssuffers from persistent loneliness, and while we’re more connected than ever before, social media may actually be exacerbating the problem.

So how can you reach out and connect?  It can take intentionality and courage, but it helps if you realize most people are as unsure as you are. Here are some suggestions:

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What Binds us Together

February 15, 2017 /

In 1995 I took my first trip to Africa. It was at the height of the AIDS crisis in Uganda. There was little information, lots of myths, many were dying, and the air was permeated with fear.

Although Uganda has green hills and banana trees, the prominent images I carry with me from that first trip are those of coffins being carried along rust colored roads and the smell of smoke from cook fires.

One day we traveled beyond the hot, dusty nowhere, over lumpy paths to meet a woman who lost her husband, all her family members, and was caring for five orphaned children on her own.

Her name is Josephine – tall, lean, dark, and strong. She and friends greet us with dancing, songs, and the rare treat of an scrawny chicken that they had cooked for us, their guests.

We sit together on stumps next to her crumbling mud hut by an open fire, burned down to coals – her “table” of sorts. Gathered around are her people who are doing life by her side, helping with kids, and gardening, and encouraging. We try not to offend her sacrificial hospitality, choking down what she offers, knowing she will go without. I listen to Josephine share her story of loss after loss after loss, and I marvel at her resilience.

Finally, she turns to me, looks me in the eye, and asks, “What is it like for you, in America?”

I gulp, nervously thinking, how can I tell her? What can I tell her?!” How can this woman possibly understand a broken garage door, or pre-school teachers, or my grandmother who recently died in a comfortable, antiseptically clean hospital?

And then the Holy Spirit gives me some words. I say, “You know…our lives are very different. I don’t experience the day-to-day struggle you do here, but what I’m struck by is what we have in common. We are both mothers. We both have hopes, and dreams, and fears for our children, and we both look to God for help. We both have people He gives us.”

When we compare, we are driven apart. We get sucked into thinking “my loss is worse”, or “your loss is worse” but none of that matters. You may have lost a dream or a husband, and I lost a job, someone lost their home, another lost their sight. Loss is loss. We need each other. To hold hands and hearts. To hug and listen, and just be with each other in our pain. God knits us together with the common threads of hope and loss and joy. Together we read, and together we make choices:

“This day I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live..” Deuteronomy 30:19

I asked some blog readers to send me selfies wherever they are. As I scroll through these I tear up thinking of you – of the challenges and hopes you have today. We may not know each other personally, but we know God, and together we choose the Life that He offers.

Katie in Jordan, building bridges to Muslims  (I love this picture take at Petra!)

Carrie, minister to students in Edina MN.

Kathy, in pink, who is a Community Bible Study Leader (here with some of the women in her small group)

Jane, a world citizen and journalist who splits time mostly between Singapore and Switzerland.

3 generations of love – so much awesome in this picture! Sue, Kit, Ally, and Karen in Florida.

Daughter Maggie, who lives in the San Francisco Bay area and works in HR for Tesla (with Riggins who I’m sure reads the blog too).

Jess, a young mama in Minneapolis (with Greta Sue)

Christine, working with a non-profit in Nazareth

Daughter Katy, working as liaison between USAID and Congress in D.C.

Wherever you are, whatever you are doing today, know that you are not alone!

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