love and kindness...

I jotted down my grocery list, composed of random items to get us through the weekend, and divided the list between items to buy at Walmart and items to buy at United. I used to despise Walmart and avoid going at all costs, but they've really stepped up their game over the last few years. Plus, mid-morning weekday shopping is much more enjoyable than peak-time weekend shopping. I got Annabeth dressed and buckled in her car seat with the promise that she could take her baby to the store as an attempt to keep her distracted. I drove in front of the store and saw tables set up near both entrances. Each table was being manned by an individual asking for money. "Oh, brother," I thought to myself.  It was a completely ugly and selfish thought, and I knew it. I also knew that I actually had cash in my wallet for once and would be lying if I walked past and said, "Sorry, I can't donate to your cause because I don't have cash on me." And I'd be lying if I said I've only used that excuse at times when I didn't have cash. But I also thought about the fact that I had my daughter with me. My child who watches, memorizes, and repeats EVERYTHING I do. This would be a good lesson for her. I pulled cash out of my wallet and kept it in hand as we walked into the store. The lady asked for a donation and I gave her the bill in my hand. She looked at Annabeth, sitting sweetly in the basket, and said, "Aren't you so pretty? I love your little shoes!" We had a friendly exchange back and forth with the kind woman and I was quickly convicted for being so selfish and petty. We finished shopping at Walmart and drove into the parking lot at United to find a Salvation Army Bell ringer standing outside the doors. "Okay, Lord, I get it. I am hearing you loud and clear. This is a lesson for me." I dug through my spare change, pulling out all of the silver coins I could find. It wasn't much, but the lesson here wasn't really about the amount as much as it was about the willingness to give. Approaching the bucket, I slid the coins in Annabeth's little hands and she dropped them in one at a time. The bell ringer thanked and blessed us, and as we walked inside Annabeth said, "Where'd my money go?" I answered, "You put it in the bucket so that it can help people who need it." 

This is the season of giving and kindness. I think one reason people enjoy the holidays is because our hearts tend to be in the right place for once. (Maybe that's why election season is placed right before the holidays.) We give so much of our kindness and love to people we don't even know, often neglecting those closest to us. The truth is, I don't have a problem giving and being kind to people I don't know. I find great joy in buying gifts for children I'll probably never meet. I am thankful for the opportunity to financially support and donate items causes in which I believe are making a difference in the lives of others. I do my best to remember that from the abundance given to me, I need to be sure to give to generously. And the truth is, it's easy to be kind to a complete stranger for a few short minutes. I have had countless people cut in front of me in lines lately, and I don't care. What's one extra minute of waiting? My kindness to others doesn't require much of me because it's short lived. And a smile and hello is even easier. I'm probably not going to run into said stranger again. And, even if I do, each encounter is minutes long. Anyone can be pleasant and say nice words for a short amount of time. But the kindness I think we're missing isn't necessarily kindness towards people we don't know. It's showing kindness to the people we know best. 

Aaron and I had a difficult first few months of marriage. There were moments when I thought, "Why didn't I just stay single?" Because when you're single, you don't have to put up with anyone else's shenanigans. However, that also means that no one else has to put up with yours. And so our first few months of marriage were frustratingly hard because of how we chose to communicate. When I got upset about something, I would shut down and give Aaron the silent treatment. My justification for doing so was driven by the old saying, "if you can't say anything nice then don't say anything at all." I don't think that saying was intended to give way to the silent treatment. Truth be told, my silence was saying a lot. And the silent treatment is horribly rude, disrespectful, unproductive, and hurtful. Aaron operated under another tactic. He said whatever came to mind no matter how harsh or hurtful it was. He felt it was better to just get all his thoughts and feelings out in the open and not hold back. As you can imagine, this got us nowhere and often resulted in days of misery. And finally after three or four miserable days, something would give and we'd come to a conclusion and do the necessary repair work. A lot of things were said, and not said, during that time. Some things I remember well, and some not so much. But I'll never forget in the heat of one of our falling outs Aaron told me I was mean. Excuse me? Mean? What in the world? I immediately thought of the "mean" people I knew and figured I was nothing like them. Sure, I had it in me to be mean but I didn't think it was a prevalent characteristic. It was one of those statements that caught me off guard and caused me to dwell on my behavior. How could he say that about me? I thought I was a nice person. Well, to the people that didn't live with me or know me as well as he did, I was nice.  But the last thing I wanted was for the man who lived with me, pledged his life to me, and loved me to think I was mean. 

I realized I could be fuming mad at Aaron and if someone called I could immediately pick up the phone and have the friendliest, kindest conversation as if everything was perfectly jolly in my world. I bet you know exactly what I'm talking about. I could force kindness towards anyone I wanted to anytime I needed to. And I began to realize that if I could be kind to people who didn't live under my roof, share a last name with me, or share the same DNA makeup with me, then there was absolutely no excuse for me to treat my own family any different. Why should they be my punching bags and why did I think it was okay to do unto them as I would never dare do to another? Mother Theresa said, "If you want to change the world, go home and love your family." It was a turning point for me. I used to care so very much about what others thought of me, and I realized I needed to care more about what my own family thought of me. If I couldn't live out the gospel of love and kindness in my own home, then I wasn't really living it out in the world. I was pretending, and pretending doesn't get us any credit with the Lord.

In John 13, Jesus spends time washing his disciples feet during the last supper. After Judas leaves, Jesus is left with the 11 men who have been his closets friends and co-laborers. These men have spent a lot of time together and will continue to over their lifetime. And as we all know, sharing your life with others is messy. It's not easy because it requires more than what's on the surface. It requires work and effort, apologizing and forgiving. Time reveals the good and the bad, and Jesus knew the disciples were not coming to the end of their journey. They were going to need one another now more than ever. And so he says, "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this (your love for each other) everyone will know you are my disciples, if you love one another." (John 13:34-35) Notice the emphasis here is on the group, not outsiders. They knew they were supposed to show love to everyone, but Jesus reminds them that their love towards each other would be a testimony that they belonged to him. And it's not a "well, you know I love you regardless of how I treat you or whether or not I tell you" kind of love. No, it's an obvious love composed of intentional action. Something that everyone can see looking in from the outside. And something that was obviously on display to all who were on the inside. 

Holidays can be hard. Family relationships aren't always easy and we often take them for granted, assuming we can get away with our bad behavior because we're bound by blood and oath. But God calls us to obviously love one another. To forgive as we've been forgiven. To apologize and seek reconciliation. To be peacemakers, not pot-stirrers. Because it starts at home. It starts with the people who know us the best. And if we can show love and kindness to those whom we've never met, who've never wronged us, hurt us, wounded us, let us down, or disappointed us, then what a testament to the transforming, grace-filled, merciful love of God when we choose to love our own people in the very same way he loves us. 

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