Love your neighbor. baby steps.

It isn't as complicated as it sounds.

Jesus talks about loving our neighbor, as we love our own self. 

As a young girl, sitting in Sunday school with bright blonde pigtails, and knobby knees, loving my neighbor seemed simple enough. I was not yet old enough to really dislike myself, so loving someone as I loved myself seemed very straightforward. As for loving my neighbor specifically, the girl who sat next to me lived on a farm on which I loved to play, and so loving her was not so hard either.

As I sit here contemplating the world we live in, the horrible things we are doing to each other, the ways we have complicated so much, I am looking to my seven year old self for wisdom.

What does it really mean to love our neighbor? Some might say that Jesus did not mean this literally, but as a general rule to love all others. But why does he use the word neighbor? Why not just say, "love everyone"? 

I won't bother defining the word "neighbor", I think we all get the gist of it. But I think  that Jesus uses the word "neighbor" here very intentionally. That is where it all starts. How can I love the world If I can't even love the person right next to me? How can I care for orphans, If I have no patience for the children in my classroom. How can I love those in need, If I can't love my own family well.

It seems as though Jesus has not misspoken here, or hidden some kind of in depth meaning in these words. He means it literally, because he knows how we are. We need those baby steps. "Go love your neighbor," he says, "and then we can work on loving the world". Smile at the lady  ringing you up at the grocery store. Pay for the couple's dinner in the booth next to yours. Serve in the nursery week after week at church. Bring cookies to your neighbor. Mow the lawn of a friend.

Baby steps.

Jesus knows we are weak in love. And so He meets us where we are and asks us just that we love our neighbor.

Love the person closest to you in each moment.

This is not to say that loving others is always an easy task, or even that you have to like the person closest to you in each moment. But love them. Treat them with kindness, respect, patience.

How different would our world be if we all did our best to live this out?

I challenge you in every moment; turn to your neighbor and love them.

Oh that clock!

As my alarm screeched at me to awaken this morning, I couldn't help but feel like Cinderella talking back to the old clock as its chime tells her once again where she must be;

"Oh that clock! Old killjoy. I hear you. Come on, get up, you say, Time to start another day. Even he orders me around."

 My senior year of college, I spent the month of January in Costa Rica. The day before I left, I made sure to tuck my wristwatch securely into my suitcase, ready to keep me on time and in control. That watched stayed firmly strapped to my left wrist from the time we took off out of Newark airport, to the time we landed, a month later, in Newark airport. With every intention of checking it at all times while out of the country, I had almost forgotten I was wearing it.

San Jose is the capital of Costa Rica; a bustling little city, vibrant with color and culture. Our drive from the airport to our accommodations left me feeling right at home as the traffic was horrendous. Honking and cursing, quick right turns, and nascar-type left turns. "Everyone's is in a rush here",  I thought, "where is the cultural difference?"

The next morning our bus driver showed up 45 minutes late. He was a jovial man in his early 50's, a smile that could have lit the sun. He pulled his faded teal bus up the driveway, put it in park, and hopped out. We waited for him to recognize his lateness, apologize for it even, after all, we were late for our very first outing in this beautiful new place. But he didn't say a word about it. He shook our hands, kindly helped the girls onto the bus and off we went. And wouldn't you know, the tour guide that we were arrived late for, had nothing to say about it either.

That is the culture. Time matters very little, as long as you are doing what is most important in that moment. Right on time or two hours later, it's all the same to them. 

But how can we throw time to the wind when being late could cost us our jobs, our important appointments, even our relationships? If I detach myself from a clock for too long I start to miss things that I can't afford to miss.

And so I have started setting alarms. Sitting in bed with a book between work and bible study? Set an alarm. That way I don't have to constantly be checking the time and can read blissfully knowing that my alarm will let me know when It's time to move on to something else. 

If this advice seems exactly like what Cinderella is ranting against in the quote I shared earlier, that's because it is exactly like what she is ranting about. But I have found, that this is a million times better than frantically checking the clock every two seconds.

Must you always be a slave to the chime?! NO! 

On days where you have nothing pressing to be done, throw all clocks under the bed and follow no schedule. Vacations are perfect for this type of thing, but also snow days, sick days, or even personal days. Allow yourself the space to completely unplug from time and task, to just sit in the moment.

All my love daddy

Economists estimate that over 1 million dollars is spent in the U.S. on Father's Day each year.

According to my novice research, The first Father's day was celebrated on July 19, 1910 in the state of Washington; but it wasn't until 58 years later that Nixon signed the proclamation to make Father's Day a federal holiday. Read more about it here.

But regardless of when it started, or what it means in a culture where everything is a holiday, I must share my favorite moment with my dad.

Fast forward through reading aloud C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien before bed. Fast forward through soccer games, and sparring matches, and dance recitals. Fast forward through the week he spent building a treehouse in our backyard that blows away any treehouse I have ever seen.

Press play my junior year of high school. My first day of boarding school. One of the scariest days of my life.

We had arrived in a cloud of dust and silence. I had no intention of running, but no real intention of staying either. The buildings seemed to morph together as I stepped out of the car, water bottle in hand my mouth was still dry.

After a series of instructions that I will never really remember, we were led to my dorm room. It was small with 2 sets of bunk beds, a bathroom, and a sink. My mom and I unpacked my belongings and made my bed. I remember vividly the smells I took in on that first day, St. Ives apricot face wash and Johnson & Johnson's baby shampoo.

As my family filed out glassy eyed and quiet, my dad held me tightly, "The Lord bless you and keep you," he cooed to my frightened 16 year old self, "The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; The Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace" (Numbers 6:24-26).

That moment is forever in my heart. Those words carried me through until I graduated. Those same he spoke over Eric and I during our wedding ceremony many years later.

A simple moment, that I will never ever forget.

All my love daddy.

No longer "Enns"

Today is Day 1 of my first writer's workshop.

I'm sitting in a tiny little garden next to the chapel at Princeton Seminary staring down at my name tag and wishing it said something else.

My dad isn't famous by any means (he will tell you so himself), but he's written a bunch of books and travels and speaks and a lot of people love him and a lot of people hate him, which means something.

I am so proud of him. So proud to call him father. Proud when people ask me if I am his daughter. Proud to have a close connection with someone whose writing inspires the lives of others.

But now here I am, at a place where many would know his name, and I am a Petters.

I contemplated asking for my name tag to say Elizabeth Enns, anything to start up a conversation in a place where I know nobody.

I am struck by how desperately I feel I need this safety net.

This is a big moment for me.

Who are you Lizz?

Who are you as a writer, with nothing to stand on but your passion for words and a desire to write?

No hiding behind someone else. Just me.

It never ceases to amaze me the ways that little life things challenge us.

My name changing wasn't some intensely God-ordained event so that I could come to this conference and find myself as a writer outside of my dad. It was the natural progression of life: I get married, name change. But isn't it awesome how He's using it anyway, as minor as it is, to guide me on this journey?

Here we go Elizabeth Petters. It's all you.

how to wrangle your preschool class with no voice

As promised, here is my account of what teaching a class of 9 preschoolers is like with no voice.

First things first, we need to lay a little groundwork.  Preschoolers are curious and creative and energetic and loving, they love to learn anything and everything new. They like to push limits and test boundaries and wait until you get to 3 before they follow directions. They test my patience and expand my patience in ways I never imagined they could and they have taught me how to love fiercely and intentionally.

Before I went to work yesterday I sat down on my couch and prayed that God would teach me something, anything in all of this. It seemed like a good learning experience. How exactly do you wrangle your class of preschoolers with no voice? HOW?

Yesterday morning started off well. My sweet little students made me "chicken noodle soup" and "popsicles" out of play dough and the rice in our sensory table. They asked me over and over again why my voice was broken and gave me so many hugs I could barely stand their cuteness. "This isn't so bad", I thought, "My little angles."

Fast forward half an hour to recess...

WALKING THROUGH A PARKING LOT WITH 9 THREE YEAR OLDS AND NO VOICE IS A HORRIBLE EXPERIENCE.

You can't yell STOP or FREEZE or STAY ON THE SIDEWALK or SLOW DOWN. All you can do is try to herd your little stampede across the street and into the welcomed gates of the playground without anyone straying.

30 minutes later, we did It all over again. Me holding the hands of as many children as I could while some of the oldest ones held hands with each other right in front of me.

Back in the classroom my little munchkins had nowhere to run, so I calmed down just a little bit. I forwent the normal days activities and allowed the kids to have center play most of the morning in an effort to save my voice.

In that lull of the day where there was no transitioning and minimal chaos, I found that I almost liked the absence of my voice. Every time I wanted to communicate I had to be so close to my kiddoes that I couldn't help but notice all the tiny little details that make them unique; the colors of their eyes and their knotty preschool hair, their small but able hands, and their baby soft skin.

I welcomed quietly giving them instructions while kneeling in front of them, and listening to them "read" to me because they knew that I couldn't read to them. I revisited all of the reasons I love each and every one of my students and tasted, ever so slightly, Christ's incredible love for each of them as well.

Yesterday was utter chaos, don't get me wrong. In many ways it confirmed, for me, a child's need for structure, and direction. They need to know who is in charge and they need to know that it's not them. But, in so many ways, I was also given a gift yesterday; The gift of stepping out of structure, and seeing my kiddoes in a different light.

While I hope to high heaven that I never lose my voice again on a school day, I also pray that God continues to give me experiences to help me grow more in my ability to love these children like He does and to point them towards Him in everything I do.

"Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."

Matthew 19:14

I'll love you forever

You are correct if you assumed this post is somehow related to mother's day. Because, well, everyone is talking about it...so of course,  I had to too.

I don't really know how I feel about "mother's day", but I know how I feel about mothers, and I know exactly how I feel about my mother in particular.

Basically, what's not to love? She's selfless, and gentle, and generous, and kind. And my favorite thing about her is that I can slide her name right into 1 Corinthians 13.

My mama is patient, she is kind. she does not envy, she does not boast, she is not proud.  She does not dishonor others, she is not self-seeking, she is not easily angered, she keeps no record of wrongs.  My mama does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. She always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

My mama managed to raise me straight through hell and still loves me with her whole heart and for that and many more reasons I am forever in awe of this woman. 

I always knew there was something very special about this woman, even though she wouldn't let me eat ice cream whenever I wanted, or watch TV on weekdays. She would tell us to go play in the yard every chance we could and never said a word when we dug up her garden to make "stew" for our kitchen. 

One summer she let us drag the hose into the basement, wet the entire floor, and pretend we were ice skaters wearing our roller blades. She may not have known about it at first, but she never did seem mad about it, and she even appeared to watch the final performance.

My mom homeschooled us all for first grade so that she could teach us how to read herself. She took us on so many field trips that I can't even imagine how those years counted educationally, but they did, and I've never learned more. We even made applesauce in the kitchen the old fashioned way, wearing pilgrims costumes.

My mom was the first person to ever tell me that I was a writer, and she always encouraged me to submit my stories to contests when I was little. When my bratty little self decided I couldn't stand to be homeschooled for some reason, she put me in public school, and didn't say a word when I came home crying every night because the kids were so mean. Or even when I refused to back.

When I got older she made me tea when I left school and walked home without telling anyone, because she knew exactly what I needed. She never assumed that I was a "messed up kid", even when that's all anyone else could see.

When it came time for her to let me go, 3 years before she had expected to send me away from home, she did so with the love, compassion, and the grace of Jesus Christ. 

For me, mother's day is a ridiculous holiday. It's an excuse to honor our mothers just one day a year. Without this woman that I call mom, not only would I have never been born, but I wouldn't still be living right now. She has been my hope and strength in so many instances when I have had neither. 

I only hope that I can nurture another life the way she has nurtured mine. 

"I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my mama you'll be"

Consumer, not consumed

Today marked the day that Lilly Pulitzer (click here if you have no clue what I'm talking about) designs came to target. But they didn't come to stay, they come for a few fleeting moments and were gone.

I was one of those poor schmucks who waited months for this event and alas came out of it empty handed. Of course I went right to Target's Facebook page and left them a comment letting them know my deep disappointment...I am sure the CEO of Target was greatly moved by my feelings.

Here is Eric and me in the only real Lilly dress I will ever own,

 a gift from my mama for my rehearsal dinner

But this whole thing got me thinking about living in this world of consumerism as a follower of Christ. By the world's standards, we never can have enough. There is always something we are missing, something that we absolutely need to be complete. Perhaps it's a cheaply made, Target brand Lilly Pulitzer dress, or a nice car, or a perfectly Pinterest house. But it will never be enough.

I love clothes. I love putting outfits together and getting compliments when I end up looking decent. I love searching for things and finally finding them in an obscure online boutique. 

Part of my love of clothes is fueled by my need to be perfect, look perfect, be enviable to other women. Oh how I hate to admit that! But it's true...

And so I wrestle with the idea of being consumed by consumerism. I say things like, "I really NEED a new pair of sneakers," or "Eric, we NEED those sham pillows for the shams on our bed," or "I NEED a new dress because the other 100 in my closet won't work for this wedding we're going to."

I throw "need" around like I don't even know the meaning of the word. So, I thought, maybe I really don't. Thus, I consulted my friend Webster on his thoughts regarding "need". Some of the definitions fit right into my selfish idea of need, but this one stood out to me: 

need- a physiological or psychological requirement for the well-being of an organism

Uhoh for me...I actually do not NEED most of the things that I claim I do.

CRAP.

Okay so I had to take a few steps back here. Because technically I already knew this, I just pretended I didn't so I could go on living in my consumerist bubble.

The question becomes this: Is it wrong to have things? Want things? Buy things we don't necessarily need?

Hebrews 13:5 says this: "Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

1 Timothy 6:9-10 "But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs."

Matthew 16:19-21 "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

This next one was hard for me to swallow...

Luke 12:33-34 "Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also."

1 John 2:15-27 "Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions—is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever."

And my favorite: 
Phillippians 4:12 "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want."

I don't know about you, but I am getting the same message every which way I look in the Bible. Consumerism is consuming. You cannot serve both God and money/things. 

Does your consumerism consume you? Does it take you to a place where God is not needed? Do you worship things above your Savior? Let's be honest here, because we all have at some point. But that is where the danger of consumerism lies. 

Lord Jesus help us to be consumed only by YOU. Give us the strength to live in a world where idols are everywhere. You are enough God, help us to feel that in every ounce of our being. You alone our worthy God. Thank you for the many things you have given us, let it not cloud our love for you or our willingness to live out your will for us here on earth. Amen.