My facebook has gotten very loud recently. Pictures, cartoons and tweets... status debates and name-calling. I am overwhelmed with the noise of it all, the deafening white noise of an unholy alliance between social media and political obsession.

I am the silent dissenter. Informed, yet searching. Impassioned, yet fallible.

I'm not going to tell you who I will vote for. I'm not going to go on Facebook and bait you into a political discussion. I'm not going to send you email after email about the latest, worst conspiracy. I will not be defined by whom I vote for. My identity is not within one party, but found in - and because of - one Man.

Online political discussions are not worth the time it takes to type a reactionary parting shot. But, if we must, I will tell you in person, a coffee mug or two between us. I will look you in the eyes, answer your questions, and ask you some of my own. I will smile and shake your hand as we stand and part ways. Because people are worth more than politics. 

And if we're going to choose battles, I want to choose this one wisely and fight on the side of grace.

If you'd like to have that coffee, I may just be found here, at Election Day Communion. Find your church, your people - not your party - and eat and drink what's been broken and poured out for you.

"And we’ll re-member the body of Christ as the body of Christ, confessing the ways in which partisan politics has separated us from one another and from God."

How do you cope with election season?

31 days of LIVING in transition :: invite people in {day 13}

Once you've mastered leaving your house, it's time to let people in.



This aspect of life I struggle with most - opening my door and opening my heart - most likely due to just pure selfishness. I like to escape to our shabby little apartment, put my pjs on, and watch Alias for three hours straight.

If I don't invite people over, into my house and into my heart, there's no one there to judge me, no one there to pay attention to, no one there to question my all-about-me lifestyle. But then, there's also no one there to love on my family, no one there to share new stories with, no one there asking questions that need answering.

My other problem: I know I'm leaving. No matter where we are, I know it's not for the long haul. In the back of my mind, the thought that we'll be leaving in one or two years haunts me and tells me it's no use, too much energy, not enough time to actually make a lasting connection with anyone.

And that, my friends, is a lie. 

There is always time for a cup of tea. There is always time to let someone put their feet up. There is always time to love somebody. Do you know how much Jesus walked? A lot! From town to town, up and down Israel, from one mother-in-law's house to the tax collector's. He was constantly on the move. And yet, when the bleeding woman touched him, he stopped and asked her for her story.

If I'm going to proactively live in transition, we simply have to open our home to people. We need them to enter our chaos, understand our stories, pray for us or celebrate with us or mourn with us. And we have to do the same for them... or it's as if we never lived here at all.

No matter your transition - if you're in a moment of pain, or a moment of triumph - invite someone in to share a bit of the burden or the joy. Or at least a cup of tea. Let them see your mess.

Katharina, seeing our mess, which included a dissected baby grand piano in the dining room.

things overheard & seen at the library

A man in search of an English/German dictionary in order to communicate with a new lady friend on Facebook.

A conversation - on a cell speakerphone - between a patron and unknown woman regarding the use of a telephone line to procure internet access. I was left in suspense, however, when he took the call off speaker.

Twin boy and girl - "We're 4 today!" - waiting for storytime.

"$25.95." Amount I paid for missing book. Sigh.

To be continued...

Gifts