Finding Jesus

Tony Campolo is a man I admire. I share many of his views. Tony once said that the place to find Jesus is in loving service to poor and oppressed people.

Tony's wife Peggy, tells the following story that bears witness to this truth. Under pressure from her family and those at her church, Peggy pretended to become a Christian at age nine. Not only that, she kept up the charade for 38 years. Here, in her words, is how that chapter of her life came to an end.

....I learned first hand that Tony was right about where to find Jesus. It happened at the bedside of my dear friend Helen who was dying. Helen had always said she believed in God but now she didn't have any assurance about heaven or peace about dying and there I was, her best friend in this world, not even remotely in touch with God, with Jesus or any hope of heaven. I felt more inadequate than I'd ever felt in my life. Helen needed God to die and I needed God desperately if I was to be any comfort at all to Helen. So I decided I would tell my friend all that I had ever heard about God and going to heaven. And after all those years in church I knew it well. Helen held my hand for dear life and I know she heard me and as I shared God's grace and love with my dying friend, the presence of God became real to me.

Helen grew too ill to talk after that day but I could talk to her and I did and I believe God did take her home to heaven even as I know God has remained with me. It was in my caring for Helen that I had come to know God. My husband's quest in theology about finding God in those who are in need or being oppressed became a reality to me that day in the hospital. You do stand with God when you stand with and for those who suffer.

Now, none of us can be a loving presence to all of God's children. None of us can even perceive, let alone try to make right, every wrong in this world. But God has chosen for each one of us those particular people that God wants to love through us. http://www.bridges-across.org/ba/campolo.htm

People often ask how I can be a hospice nurse. How can I deal with suffering day after day? Isn't it depressing? Isn't it sad? I'm never sure how to answer those questions. The truth is the job is difficult. Poll a group of hospice workers. Nine out of ten of us either smoke too much, drink too much, eat too much, or fill-in-the-blank too much. Yet we love what we do.

For me it is this one thing that keeps me going back. When I am at the bedsides of my dying patients, Jesus is real to me.

Totally, amazingly real.

And so, as I am drawn to Him, I am drawn to my work, to my patients, to their families, to my coworkers.

I can't imagine giving it up.

PG Post

Spoiler alert: If you plan to read A Bigger Life, skip this post.
Content alert: If you're uncomfortable with a PG-rated topic you might want to skip this post.

In my latest book, Joel, the 27-yr-old main character, cheats on his pregnant wife. Joel's a good man. He didn't intend for it to happen. Yet, even before his wife finds out what he's done, the fall-out from Joel's actions permeates every aspect of his life. Much of the story deals with Joel's guilt over what he has done and his efforts to put the sexual mistep behind him.

Reading readers' responses to the book has prompted me to think deeply about sex and its ability to mark, to change, to bind and to wound.

On the surface, sex is as simple as a few minutes of skin-on-skin friction between two consenting adults. Once the deed is done, it's done. Behind closed doors, it involves only the two people involved in the moment. Barring pregnancy or disease, a quick shower erases all traces of an encounter. Zip up. Button up. Don't speak of the details. Life goes on.

That's how Joel thought it would be. That's how modern society tells us it is.

No big deal.

But the truth is, sex is one of those Very Big Deals.

Married or single. Committed or casual. It marks us. It changes us. In a deeply mysterious way, even the most thoughtless encounters intertwine the very souls of people. There is no way around it. Whether it is intended or not, in the deeply spiritual connection that is sex, we leave a piece of ourselves with our partner. A bit of them stays with us, inside us, on us. Forever.

Is there forgiveness for sexual misdeeds? Of course. But is there a way to go back? Is it possible to become what one was before? I think Joel would tell us no. There is no way to undo what is done. One simply walks forward. Perhaps with a limp, but forward still.

Southern Beauty Secret

Last night, at my hospice job, the staff was treated to a delicious peach cobbler. Since I've been trying to exercise and eat a healthier diet lately, I drooled over the sweet dessert, but decided to pass it up.

"Oh, go on, Annette," my friend Sharon urged. "Have a little bit. It won't hurt you. Besides, if you eat peach cobbler you'll have pretty eyebrows."

You think I'm making this up.

I'm not.

Is it any wonder my non-southern writing friends are jealous of the rich quirkiness I'm surrounded by every day?

Just in case you're wondering, I did have some cobbler. And yes, my eyebrows do look pretty. At least that's what Sharon says. In case you'd like to improve the looks of your brows, here's the recipe. Enjoy!

East Texas Peach Cobbler

INGREDIENTS:

1 stick (1/2 cup) butter
3/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup self-rising flour
2 cups fresh sliced peaches

PREPARATION:
Melt butter in a shallow 2-quart baking dish. Mix together flour, sugar, vanilla, and milk to make a batter; pour over the hot melted butter. Do not stir. Arrange peaches evenly over the top. Bake at 375 for 35-40 minutes, untill browned on top. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.