This is in response to a series of comments I got recently from someone I don't know in Oregon

Dear Seda,
First, thank you for linking to my blog. I'm always excited when someone likes my blog and adds it. When that someone is one from the exact opposite side of any sort of spectrum, I get even more excited. I love how the internet unifies the world in a way we never imagined possible.

Now, to answer your question. You read my blog about Christians being set apart and said, "When I read sentences like this, I feel scared. I have needs for safety and community that aren't met. Would you be willing to tell me what you hear when I say this? Would you be willing to listen when I tell you why?"

Everything that I do must be done under the base assumption that I am a Christian. As a Christian, I have a duty and obligation-- even a privilege-- to listen when someone wants to talk. I have the duty/privilege to love them regardless of how much we disagree (it can sometimes be harder to love other Christians than those who aren't!).

So, when you tell me that you have needs for safety and community that aren't met, I can only sympathize. A lot of times, my needs for safety and community aren't met either. For me, I realize that this is because I'm looking to other people to meet my need for safety when i should be relying only on God as my source.

As for community, I have to approach the issue differently. This does rely on other people and I have to be involved with them in order to experience community. So what to do when that need goes unmet?

I've learned that community is often what you put into it. If I'm sitting on my couch watching reruns of "The Office", of course my need for community is going to be unmet. I'm not saying that is is what you're doing by any means. I am saying that you can't expect community to come to you. You have to create it. Finding a group of people with similar interests and passions can provide this.

But I'm not living in a perfect bubble. I know that you can get excluded. I know that from experience. I know that sometimes you can feel alone in a huge group. Because you feel like no one truly understands you. Like no one cares the least bit about what you're going through or what you think or how you're doing. Because deep down, in the most fundamental level of personality, you're different. And that's not easy.

So please, let's continue this dialogue. Why do you feel scared?

I'm here.

My Favorite Thing About Kids

In my family, we're all very analytical. This means we spend a good portion of our time trying to avoid the fact that emotions actually exist in the world around us. We figure it makes life a lot easier if we don't have to deal with that crap.

But what I love about kids is the intensity with which they experience emotion. It's the full range, from jumping-up-and-down joy to tear-your-heart-out sadness.

I remember when we first got our dog Max. We'd had him for approximately 3 days. I was babysitting at the time and Peter was maybe three or four years old. Anyway, the dog got out of the yard and I ran around a bit looking for him. But I couldn't leave the house because David was napping and you generally don't leave a 2- and a 4-year-old alone for any length of time. But I had to tell Peter that the dog was gone because he was asking me why I was running around. He helped me call for Max from the front porch for a bit, and then he just sat down on the steps and started crying.
"I miss Max," he said with such conviction that I started crying too. Not because I missed the dog- I'd experienced many runaway dogs in my day- but rather because there was exactly nothing that I could do to make it better.

P.S. This is why I'm such a weirdo.

True Love Waits...

And waits...
And waits...
And waits...