bluebirduncaged My Life

Gretchen’s Dad

I saw him from behind. On the sidewalk to my left as I approached the intersection with Peachtree Street. His bright purple sweatpants layered under black basketball shorts with red and white trim stopped at the ankle bones. I don’t remember what socks kind of socks he wore with the shiny white tennis shoes. He moseyed up the hill with the familiar gait of a homeless man; something between a swagger and shuffle.

The light turned red. I stopped. He started toward my car. I avoided eye contact. My window was cracked open a few inches to enjoy the pretty day. “Excuse me, could you help me?” He gestured for me to roll my window down more. I didn’t but gave him my attention. He was tall, relatively skinny. “I’m just a nice, 40 year old man. I used to live in [the nearby apartment complex].”  His thick, straw like gray hair stuck out from beneath a gray beanie. His matching beard was full but seemed groomed. “Could you spare some change so I can maybe get a bowl of soup or something?” He rubbed his stomach and I noticed the muted red cable knit sweater flecked with pieces of lint fit snugly over a gray undershirt.

I turned around to the back seat (wonder if he was thinking I was about to pull a gun or pepper spray or something) and pulled out my last ‘homeless man bag’ left over from Nutcracker. I had been praying for the right person to give it to. The brown paper sack was stapled closed with a label that read, ‘your story matters’ in gray lettering with a little drawing of a typewriter. It was torn on the side from 3 of months sliding around the back of my Jeep. I opened the window a little further and stuck the bag through. “Is that milk?” he asked referring to the Special K protein shake peeking through the rip. “Yes sir” I said. He took the bag and started backing away from the car. “Well, you’re a very sweet, nice young lady. God bless you.” I smiled and rolled the window back up a little. “I’ll tell my daughter, Gretchen, about you.”

He walked back to the curb, I refocused on the light. It was still red. I watched him round the corner and a bush obscured him from sight. A few seconds later he reappeared from around the bush and waved with the shake in one hand and the cap in the other. I gave him a thumbs up. The light turned green. As I turned left I saw him tending a Walgreens bag on the covered MARTA bench. 

I drove off. Thanking God for the opportunity. Wondering about this man’s story. Wondering about Gretchen. Marveling that I had one bag left. That the bag was within reach (for a while it was in the trunk). Thinking it was weird that I knew his daughter’s name but not his. Wondering what he thought about the bag. Wondering if I should have said anything else. Praying for Gretchen. Praying for him. 

It reminded me of the toll booth lady and the blanket man and how each interaction is a divine appointment. 

Pray for Gretchen.

bluebirduncaged Things I'm learning

choosing grace

choosing grace

Grace, it means “favor,” from the Latin gratia. It connotes a free readiness. A free and ready favor. That’s grace. It is one thing to choose to take the grace offered at the cross. But to choose to live as one filling with His grace? Choosing to fill with all that He freely gives and fully live–with glory and grace and God?
I know it but I don’t want to: it is a choice. 
~Ann Voskamp One Thousand Gifts 

 

 

I say I’m extending grace to others. And I feel like I am…
                                                                       …but I’m withholding grace from myself.

She didn’t set her alarm and totally missed the class we said we would go to together. I tell her it’s ok, we’ll find another time. 

It’s three days before and realize I need a sub. I call eight people on the sub list and no one can do it. Emails, phone calls, and texts are flying. Ugh, why do I do this to myself? I should have asked for the schedule from my other commitment earlier. I should have called so and so first. I should have, I should have,…why don’t I have it all together?  

It’s a pride thing. We like to think we don’t need someone else’s favor. Sometimes it seems like pity. We like to get it right the first time. And when someone else messes up, we say it’s okay because at least it wasn’t us. It makes us feel better, more important, like we have it all together. 

Steve Brown writes, “The desire for perfection indicates the presence in us of something or someone who has given us that desire.” The desire to please drives our motivation. And when that motivation comes from something or someone outside of God, we’re always going to fall short. 

We forget that He has already perfected us. Our focus zeros in on the small story and we miss the BIGGER one–the story of radical grace. We have a choice: zoom out and accept the grace extended to us or keep striving towards the temporary acceptance of human beings.  

We can only give as much as we have received. And if we refuse to fully receive, how can we fully give? I have to think that we will never be able to give grace to others until we find the freedom of true grace ourselves. 

That means letting go of the smaller story. It’s the realization that in our pursuit of excellence, we will fall short, we will disappoint people, we will not always have answers. But in that realization there is rest, there is freedom, there is grace–because we know that our perfection does not lie in the outward facade of having it all together but in the One who holds it all together.  

 May you choose grace. 

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness" ~2 Corinthians 12:9

bluebirduncaged Bluebird: uncaged

Bluebird is going to Panama!!

Panama

Bluebird is going to Panama this summer!!!! 

There are so many details but here’s the short story.

I’ve always wanted to travel the world doing good and inviting people into the BIGGER story. As my passion for dance grew, and Bluebird started to hatch, an idea began to take shape. What if we had workshops that culminated in traveling abroad and using dance for the greater good? One day, I thought. Little did I know it would be so soon. 

My friend, Laura, shares the same desire use dance to serve internationally. While she was here for the Passion Conference we tossed the idea around a little. “Hey, your sister lives in Panama, why don’t we do something there?” 

A few weeks later, I knew it was time to organize a Bluebird trip. My parents suggested I contact a local organization to be connected with. I took a shot in the dark, contacted the YWAM base in Panama City and briefly explained what we wanted to do. David, the director wrote back and said they had been praying all month for dancers to visit the base! 

So Bluebird is going to Panama July 30-Aug 13!! We will be serving the local dance community through workshops and performances as well as participating in YWAM’s art festival.

Want to join us? Check out the details here. 

Click here to read my dad’s side of the story.