Being Here…Unedited and Alive

Having the ability to crop pictures to edit out my thick midsection and learning the art of holding the camera at just the right angle to avoid my double chin has allowed me to stay in denial about my escalating weight. But then a picture is snapped and the unedited version smacks me in the face; I am losing the war against my body's apparent desire to go up yet another size.

In 7th grade drama class, a boy asked me if my real butt was in fact my real butt. Apparently he thought I had stuffed a pillow down my pants for effect. Either that or he was just reinforcing his reputation of being a complete asshole. But either way, I became very aware that my body wasn't necessarily going to cooperate with my desire to blend in with my thin friends. Even at that young age, I started sipping weight loss shakes for lunch while my classmates filled their cafeteria trays with nuggets and fries. Please don't misunderstand me; I am aware that I have never been obese. I am thick. Nobody has ever been shocked to find out that I played softball, if you know what I mean. I have so often felt the unfairness of how my skinny friends could seemingly without consequence be able to eat brownies, go for that 3rd or 4th slice of pizza or enjoy a consistent flow of Coca Cola.

In 2009, I rather easily lost nearly 35 lbs. My days were filled with exercise as I trained for my first Sprint Triathlon. I had a best friend full of encouragement and she participated in the journey toward health with me. It really felt somewhat magical. I felt like I had found "the secret" and I felt such joy. In the 7 years since, I have been through a divorce, struggled my way out of the closet, lost friendships, spiritually unraveled and rebuilt, survived a 65mph collision with a parked car, bought a home, made several job changes, stood by my mom's side as she struggled with and lost her life to complications of dementia, had 2 knee surgeries, lost 2 pets that I loved dearly and travelled the rocky road of a second marriage. These are not excuses for why I find myself 40 lbs north of my 2009 weight. I am where I am because I have eaten too much of the wrong things and beer has been my companion on a pretty regular basis as I have faced the reality of this journey called life.

If I were to be completely honest, I would admit that I have been pretty depressed off and on since the death of my mom in October. My day to day emotion isn't necessarily a sadness but more an empty space that nothing seems to fit into. The pull of the empty void feels constant and sometime food and drink allow me to temporarily forget that I ache.

Please allow me to interrupt right here to say what this blog isn't - it isn't a plea for people to tell me that I look great the way that I am nor is it a vanity blog about how I need to lose weight so I can love myself again. This is my story about how something shifted in me. For months, I have been struggling with a feeling of restlessness. I have felt like I was searching for something that just wasn't there. It was like chasing a shadow but not being able to determine the shape. Historically, reading a good book, writing in my journal, listening to podcasts, playing tennis and spending time with friends would be just what I needed to refocus and find joy. But lately, it all has just fallen flat leaving me to wonder why happiness is playing "hard to get".

Fast forward to this past weekend. I won't be able to explain what really happened to me but something lifted in the six hours shared with 200-300 people with a common purpose of deep love, understanding and acceptance at the How To Be Here Experience with Rob Bell. One lady stood and shared about her ache from the loss of her husband and how badly she wants to bypass grief and find her next purpose. One young man shared that he was recently diagnosed with Stage IV lymphoma and he struggled with the weight that his wife carries being both his caregiver and the mother to their young children. And another woman stood to share about her struggle to know how to support her son who finally found the courage to admit that he is gay only to have his father (her husband) disown him. The journey of life is so complex and I think the greatest hinderance to my healing was the feeling of being alone. Hearing these vulnerable stories and feeling the deep love and concern shared among strangers did something to me. A healing happened.

The edited snapshot with Rob Bell

And then as the meeting wrapped, an unexpected picture was snapped. I hadn't had a chance to try to suck in my gut or turn just the right way. There I was in all my glory - pudgy belly, full cheeks, more than one chin...a wave of embarrassment followed by shame came over me as I stared at the picture. How could THAT be how I look? I quickly zoomed in to "fix" it - cropping out my stomach and adjusting the photo so that it didn't include my whole arm in the frame. And then the peace came. I zoomed back out and looked at my belly and cheeks and chins. That's me. I'm a bit of a mess. I've had a hard few years. I have eaten too much and exercised too little. I've been hurting and it shows. I have done the best I could and now I give myself permission to let go and change how I engage with the world and how I take care of myself.

I think I am ready.

So, this is a new chapter in my story. My goal is to be fully alive. It will be a day to day decision to work my way out of my habits to numb the intermittent emptiness that I feel. Some days will be easier than others and that's ok with me. I want to sweat more and reengage with people that challenge me to be my best. I want to eat more good things and less bad. I want to sip and enjoy the taste of a beer instead of rushing through to grab another. Ultimately, I want to get to a place where I don't feel the need to crop and hide. I hope that will come from losing some inches but maybe instead I can learn to be OK with whatever the camera reveals. Time will tell.

No matter how all of this unfolds, I am thankful for this journey. I am beyond thankful for feeling alive again. I have told Jenn for years that she will always know when I'm in a healthy place when I write in my journal or blog and when I have a stack of library books on my nightstand that aren't covered in dust. I bet you can't guess what sits waiting for me on my nightstand as I write these words…dust free books ready to engage and entertain me and I can't wait!

Until next time….

Anne Lamott

52 People Project - My Mom

This past Wednesday something was said on the radio that raised a grammatical question and I reached for the phone to call my mom. She has always been the queen of grammar. Sometimes she filled the role so well that she interrupted even the simplest of stories to correct the storyteller. Often I found myself working out the "I's" and "Me's" beforehand in order to be able to get through my tale without interruption. When I was 8, 12, and 17, this was a great frustration but now as an adult, I feel thankful for the correct grammar my mom instilled in me. I still get it wrong sometimes and I am by no means a grammar nazi but it has given me some confidence in my writing and verbal communication.

Perhaps many don't know the journey my mom has been on over the past few years. Growing up, my mom's mind was a steel trap. I can remember many times my dad quietly asking as acquaintances walked away "who was that?" and my mom was able to recall their names, how we knew them and maybe even finer details like where they lived or the names of their children. Her memory was mind-boggling. She was an avid reader; she likes John Grisham and Nicholas Sparks. History, Science, Math…she seemed to know it all. She attributed that to the wonderful teachers she had at Skiatook High School so many years ago. I often wondered why she didn't make the trip to Culver City to be a participant on Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune. I wouldn't have been the slightest bit shocked if she would have won.

My mom was also very social. When I was young, I remember my mom spending hours on the phone with friends and family. She spoke with her mother almost every day even if only for a few moments to catch up on the gossip from her home town. I moved from under my parents roof over 20 years ago and I could rely on hearing from her at least a few times a week and sometimes a few times a day. She taught children's Sunday School for many years and she would happily host work and church events in our home. She was a member of the choir and attended a weekly women's Bible Study and volunteered serving food at church socials. I don't think she has missed a single one of her High School reunions; often she has been on the planning committee for the weekend events. Even up until 6 months ago, she would gather with some of her high school friends to have dinner and play Mexican Train. Connection was always important to her.

My mom on vacation 4 months ago

I can't put a finger on when things started changing. Maybe it is like the infamous frog in the pot of hot water metaphor. Change came so slowly that we didn't realize what was happening, but nonetheless, it has happened. The mom I once knew is gone.

Slowly my mom has withdrawn into herself. Her appetite has decreased and her hours of sleep have multiplied. There are times when the boys and I go by for a visit and she doesn't say a word. With a great amount of help from my father, she hosted Thanksgiving this past year. She ate quickly and quietly and retired to her recliner as we finished eating and cleaning up. Connection and fellowship seem to be the furthest thing from her mind.

During a recent hospitalization, I went to see her. I spent a little over an hour with her making sure that she was comfortable and settled for the night. We had conversation but only about things that were tangible in the room. We talked about the dry erase board and what it said and about how interesting the ceiling tiles looked. We talked about the bed and whether it was better with the legs up or down. It seemed to be more comfortable keeping conversation in a space where she didn't have to tap into the foggy details of history.

Within the past 2 weeks, she has started taking new medications and there has been some improvement. She is now having some "good" days where she is a recognizable version of her old self but those days are occasional and unpredictable. This past weekend, I was going through my phone voicemail messages and realized that I haven't received a call from mom since December 12th when she called to ask me again what the boys wanted for Christmas…a question I had answered at least a half a dozen times already. I hope I didn't roll my eyes or have a twinge of frustration at her question. I hope I was kind and loving. I hope that I told her that I loved her and that I was here for her if she needed anything. I hope that she will get to a place where she wants to call me on the phone again.

My grandmother (my mom's mom) passed away in 2002 and it drives me crazy that I can't remember exactly what her voice sounded like. I so wish I could remember what she sounded like when she said my name. There must be a part of me that refuses to let this happen again. I have 18 voicemails on my cellphone that I can't bring myself to erase. With a tap of button, I can hear my mom say "Hi baby, this is your mother" and several calls end with "I love you."

I am thankful that I still have time with my mom. I look forward to the moments that feel normal. I have deep respect for my father who, although he is not in the best health, takes care of her day in and day out. We don't know what this journey will look like. I am certain there will bumps along the way. There will be uncertainty and sadness but hopefully there will be some good times as well.

My best advice to anyone who is reading this blog is to take a few minutes and call someone that you love. Memorize their voice and tell them that you love them. Slow down and appreciate the simple things…those mundane things that we take for granted are the very things we may miss the most.

…because there will be a time when you too will absentmindedly reach for the phone to ask a question that can't be answered.

Until next time,
Becca


(Ha! And yes, I wish my mom could check my grammar before posting this blog!)

52 People Project - Clark Brown

Roger Waters "The Wall"

On May 5, 2012, I got to experience the music of Pink Floyd live. I think I was the only person in the sold out arena who was hearing Roger Waters sing for the first time. It was just as I imagined it would be - surreal, bizarre, amazing and unforgettable. The music however was not the best part of the night.

The concert was a perfect excuse for Jenn to gather with some of her best friends from her college years at NSU. They made a mini-reunion of it and I got to tag along. Friends came from across the United States to spend time together. It was fun for me to finally meet people I had heard so much about as Jenn would tell me entertaining stories of her past. What I found most compelling about Jenn's friends that night was how genuine and real they were. Nobody seemed to have anything to prove. It was just about being together, telling stories of the good ol' days, poking fun at each other, having some drinks and bursts of laughter.

Just a few days after the reunion, on May 7th my facebook friendship with Clark Brown began. From the moment I met Clark it was obvious that he was a nice guy. He was down to earth and easy to talk to. His smile was piercing and he found it so easy to laugh. I had never met someone who so quickly made me feel like I had known him my whole life. Clark was from New York and would frequently check in by email to see when we were going to come for a visit. He wanted to do anything he could do to help make our trip amazing. Clark had a way of making sure I knew he was thinking of me. One of my favorite conversations with him began, "Hi five, Becca. How are you?"

On June 8th, 2013, while Clark was getting ready for work, he unexpectedly suffered an aortic dissection. He was airlifted to a New York hospital where he underwent a 7 hour surgery to repair the tear but in the surgery he suffered a stroke. On June 10th, Clark died at the age of 42.

The news of his passing spread quickly through facebook. When I read that he was gone, there was shock and a sudden emptiness. How could someone so wonderful and full of life slip away so quickly? It just isn't supposed to happen this way.

Unfortunately, over the past few years I have had a handful of friends pass away. Facebook has been a fantastic forum to grieve publicly. In a very strange way it allows me to feel that they are still here. My mind has played tricks on me many times over the past week as I have seen pictures of Clark on my Facebook feed. It just seems easier to believe he is still here than to accept he is gone. When I open my last email from Clark sent on May 29th to wish me a Happy Birthday, I have to struggle through the denial process and accept that the conversation is over.

I wish each person reading this blog could have had a moment with Clark. I wish you could read the many messages people have left on his wall. I wasn't the only person who Clark made feel so special. There are hundreds of posts from people who Clark blessed with his life. With each new post, my heart aches at the loss of this amazing friend to so many. A few days ago I learned that even after his death, Clark was able to make an impact on others in a tangible way through the donations of his organs!

I want to be like Clark. I want to pause more often and make sure that people know that I am thinking of them. I want people from every walk of life to know that I accept and love them. I want to be passionate about life and about the things that make me smile. I want to travel to see friends. I want to stop for 2 seconds to send a text just to give a virtual high five. I want to see the value of connection with others and then do something about it. I want to give of my life the way that Clark did by loving people and always having a smile to share.

Rest in Peace Clark.

A long pause was required before writing that previous sentence...I really don't want to accept that you are gone. You were one in a million! Clark Brown, I am thankful for the few steps we got to share in this life; you taught me a lot about the person that I want to be. I'm forever grateful!

Until next time,
Becca

52 People Project - Raegan Smith Robbins

This is the fifth installment of my 52 People Project where I reflect on individuals who I have had the honor to walk side by side with on this journey called life.

This past weekend, we had a wedding in our backyard.

Each Spring, Jenn eagerly plans the layout of our backyard. Who am I kidding...all year long she plans and strategizes to make everything even more amazing than it was the year before. But this Spring, she was even more meticulous with the placement of each plant and flower to make the perfect backdrop for her baby sister's special day.

I met Raegan 4 years ago at a Starbucks when she was in town visiting family. One thing I knew immediately about Raegan is that she is as beautiful on the inside as she in on the outside. She is genuine and although heads turn when she walks into a room, she isn't self consumed.

If I had to be completely honest, I would admit that I sometimes make assumptions about people. I never would have expected Raegan to be so down to earth. When Jenn and I participated in the triathlon in Austin, we stayed with Raegan. She was so generous letting us invade her space and I couldn't help but be in awe as I watched her stand over the stove and eat Macaroni & Cheese mixed with tuna.

Raegan came out to support us at the triathlon. She had to park so far away from the finish line that she got blisters on her feet from her cute shoes. She was in so much pain but smiled anyway. It meant a lot to have someone cheering us on.

I'm not sure how and when Raegan met Jake...but into our lives walked this very handsome and hilarious guy. The first time I really got to know Jake was when we made the car ride to Ada together for the funeral of Jenn and Raegan's Papa. I was nervous to be in the car with him for such a long time...worried that we would run out of things to talk about. However, now I'm pretty sure Jake and I would NEVER run out of words to share with one another. Jake makes Raegan laugh. He is intelligent and works hard. They aren't perfect. They have each had their run-ins with "crazy" but never at the same time and I love how they have pushed through the hard times and have come out stronger as a couple.

Raegan and Jake live in the Oklahoma City area with their 4 "children". Penny, Bristol, Milli and Lil are all dogs that they have rescued. I've never met anyone who loves dogs more. I'm pretty sure Raegan would adopt 30 if it were legal. Raegan is a hair stylist. I think she is one of the very best! Jake is a financial planner for Northwest Mutual. Last year he was awarded the Rookie of the Year for his region as well as recognized as a Top 10 Advisor in his company. He is kind of a big deal :)

Raegan and Jake, your wedding was beautiful. I can't imagine a more perfect picture of love. I have so enjoyed laughing with you and watching your love grow through the years. I can't wait to make many fun memories with you and grow old together as family. Thanks for letting us be part of your special day. And more than anything, thank you for accepting me and accepting us without hesitation. You have always made me feel like part of the family and for that I am humbly thankful! You are two of my very favorite people on the planet. I am so thankful that we get to share steps along this journey called life. Love you both!!!

52 People Project - Alicia Shiever

The Coram girls!

This is part 4 of my 52 People Project where I reflect on individuals who I have had the honor to walk side by side with on the journey called life.

In 2011, I met Alicia Shiever when she came into town to "ride along" with me. She was the new hire for Coram in the Oklahoma City market and I was actually pretty excited to have a new teammate. Little did I know how much I would end up loving her.

Medical sales suits me well. I love relationship building and love the concept of "under-promising and over-delivering". It feeds something deep in my soul knowing that I am helping patients get home where they long to be after a hospitalization. The downfall to sales is that it can be a lonely job. Most days are spent travelling from one account to the next trying to be at the right place at the right time to get a referral.

On the loneliest of days with Coram, one of my very favorite things is when my phone vibrates in my pocket and I see Alicia's name on my screen. She almost always has a story to tell or something to complain about that leaves me in laughter. She not only helps me strategize and problem solve, but she also lends me her ear and offers advice when I need a friend. Although in the past 2 years we have only been together in person 6 or 7 times, through text and phone conversations, she has become one of my closest friends.

A picture to prove it 

She is hands down one of the funniest people I have ever known. She isn't afraid to talk to anyone. A few years ago we were at national conference and coincidentally there was a national baby doll convention going on at the same hotel. Let me break this down so you understand. There were hundred of grown women walking around with very real looking dolls in strollers as if they were real infants. They would feed them, burp them and change their diapers. It was a bit creepy, sort of comical and a little sad at the same time. We tried to be kind and not stare. Alicia, however ended up talking with the ladies and when asked if she wanted to hold one of the dolls, she said "sure!" Alicia is the only person I know who could have done this and made the "mom" feel so proud.

Before and After

Alicia is also an inspiration to me. Less than 9 months ago she hired a trainer and started her journey to healthy living. I have watched in amazement as she has shrunk by over 30 lbs. She went from pulling over in the middle of the day for french fries to a lifestyle focused around healthy eating and activity. What compels me the most is that she is honest with me about her struggles and she makes me feel like I can do whatever I put my mind to. I am so proud of her.

A picture of the hospital after the storm

Today Alicia sent me a text at 2:47 stating that she was in Moore in the path of the larger-than-a-mile-wide tornado. She had stopped by Moore Medical Hospital this afternoon on her rounds and had stayed when a "Code Black" was issued. When I was finally able to get to a television, I ached. Through tearful eyes, I watched the storm engulf Moore and leave devastation in its path. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I heard that she was OK. Just a few moments ago, this was her Facebook post:

"Just letting everyone know that I'm ok. I was in Moore Medical Hospital when it was hit with a straight blow. We had enough notice to move all patients to the cafeteria where myself and all other patients and staff were. We all got on the floor. We clung to complete strangers. We could hear it coming and tearing the roof off overhead. By far the scariest day of my life. So thankful for prayers. For protection."

I frankly don't know what I would do if something happened to my sweet friend.

Just under a month ago, I resigned from my position at Coram to pursue another job in sales with a local long term care facility (LTAC). In the past month, I have learned a lot about myself and my purpose which I will unravel and put in words at another time. But one thing I do know is that home is where my family is and Coram is my family! In about a week, I return home to my position at Coram and I couldn't be more happy.

Alicia, I can't wait to be co-workers again! It is such an honor to walk this part of my journey with you. Your heart of compassion and determination blows me away. I am glad you are safe! I still don't know how I got so lucky to have you as a friend! Love you!!!

Until next time,
Becca

52 People Project - Liliana Gullo Ross

This is part 3 of my 52 People Project where I reflect on individuals who I have had the honor to walk side by side with in this journey called life.


Liliana Gullo Ross

In 2005, I started volunteering at Crisis Pregnancy Outreach. It was around July when I picked Liliana up to take her to see her doctor. She was quiet but engaging. She told me a few details of her story and had an entertaining conversation with my 3 year old, Foster who kept calling her Ms Arianna instead of Ms Liliana. From our conversation, it was pretty clear that she had made up her mind to parent the son she was expecting and she had selected a family as her Plan B. 

Jason and I had chosen to pursue adoption after struggling with infertility. Crisis Pregnancy Outreach is an agency that places children in families through Open Adoption. Birth mothers get to chose who will parent their child and an open relationship is established between the birth mom and the adoptive family. I was drawn to this concept because I believe there is so much power in honesty and openness and adoption is an amazing act of LOVE! 

In December, our phone rang with the news that there was a girl who wanted to meet with us about placement. I was told that I may remember her...her name was Liliana, that I had given her a ride to a doctor's appointment months earlier. She had given birth to Caleb in September. She loved him deeply and felt that adoption was the right choice for her son. There was something so special about the moment we sat down with Liliana, her parents, her sister and baby Caleb. We instantly felt like family.

A day later, we learned that we were chosen to be Caleb's parents. 

On December 27th, several cars pulled into our long driveway. Liliana arrived with Caleb, her parents and her 5 siblings. It was a emotional time as Liliana so bravely handed me her baby boy and trusted that I would love him with as much deep tenderness and genuine love as she did. I was honored and humbled by her trust. 

When Liliana drove away that night with her family and I held Caleb in my arms, I ached. My heart broke for the pain that Liliana must have been feeling. How could I ever truly thank her for this gift? We were not sure exactly what the relationship was going to look like. She asked for time to heal and I respected that. But only a few days later, she called me and we talked. Our friendship began and we developed a genuine love for each other. 

Liliana and I have been friends now for over 7 years. I love her more with each passing  year. She is married to an amazing man who spoils her rotten ;) They have 3 boys who keep her running. We typically find time to spend each holiday with the Gullos...we basically find any excuse to get together and eat good food and laugh. They feel like an extension of us. I love them like family. 

Liliana is an amazing birth-mom. She does a great job making sure Caleb AND Foster know that she loves them. Caleb knows that he was in her tummy and knows that I am his "mom". It seems normal to him. He feels so special knowing that so many people love him. 

There are no amount of words that I could string together to express how thankful I am for the gift Lilana gave us. I love her with all my heart and I am so thankful for the steps we have shared on this journey!

Until next time, 
Becca

Today happens to be her birthday! Happy birthday Liliana. XOXO!!!

52 People Project - Gigi Ferguson Lewis

This is the second installment of my "52-People Project" where I reflect on individuals who I have had the honor to walk side by side with in this journey called life.

Gigi Ferguson Lewis - 

I don't exactly remember meeting Gigi. It just feels like we have always been friends. It was somewhere around 6 or 7 years old at Exciting Eastwood Baptist Elementary School where our friendship started. We later attended Metro Christian Academy together and both graduated high school from Holland Hall. I have always found it funny that she and I were drawn to each other; we are quite opposite. Gigi is petite and somewhat soft spoken. I tend to be more on the "sturdy" side and can be a bit loud. Gigi loved Hello Kitty; I liked G.I. Joe. Gigi always looked cute and her clothes matched; I would throw on the first thing I could get my hands on. In 6th grade, during the president's challenge, she held her chin-up for longer than anyone in the class. I think I help mine for 2.5 seconds. She was up there for hours...not really, but it sure seemed that way. 

At some point, in our childhood, our parents thought it was a good idea to sign us up for duet piano lessons at Trio School of Music. Before going to class, Gigi and I would go to the convenient store on the corner to get our sugar fix and fill our music bags with Jolly Ranchers. After spending a majority of our lesson trying to keep us from talking, wiggling and giggling, our poor teacher, Ms Hern probably had to slip next door to Charlie Mitchell's for a stiff drink to regain some sanity.  

One of my favorite things about my friendship with Gigi is that our sleepovers would turn into 3-4 day stretches. Whether she was staying with me or I was staying with her, we would always beg for "just one more night". I loved when I got to stay with her... especially when her mom would cook Teriyaki Chicken for dinner. Gigi and I would sleep on the hide-a-bed in the den where we would count the rings of the grandfather clock and find reasons to giggle until we fell asleep. Sometimes we would wake up before the rest of her family and we'd cook french toast and watch cartoons. Those were simple times that I loved spending with my best friend. I think I still even remember her phone number. 492-6038 if I am not mistaken. 

Although we had spent a majority of our elementary through high school years together, college took us in separate directions. Gigi met Dan and I stood by her in a hunter green dress and heels as they said their vows. Gigi stood by me a few years later for my wedding. We both later graduated from nursing school. She has 3 wonderful children and is a pastor's wife. She is probably one of the most beautiful people I know inside and out. I don't see her much these days; our paths just don't cross. When they do thought, it is as if not even a single day has passed. I love her deeply and I am thankful I got to spend so many years of my journey with such a sweet friend!

Until next time, 
Becca  

52 People Project - Jenn Smith

This is my "52-People Project" where I reflect on some of the people I have had the pleasure of walking side by side with on this journey of life. I hope to write each week; there will be no specific order.

This project is for me. As far back as I can remember, I have struggled with feeling alone. I look on Facebook and see 500+ friends and it boggles my mind. How can a girl with 500 "friends" ache from loneliness on a consistent basis?

We all tell ourselves stories that validate what we feel on the inside. We tell ourselves stories about why the jeans don't fit right, why we deserve to buy something we can't afford and why that girl doesn't like us. We justify our hate, our prejudices, our insecurites, and our fears with our stories. We are good at it. There are many stories I tell myself but the one I seem to have been telling myself the longest is the one that feeds into the ache of being alone. Perhaps I want to be strong enough that I don't "need" people. Perhaps I just don't want to ache even more when a relationship falls apart or a friend moves away. Perhaps I just long to connect more deeply with people than I feel they want to connect with me. I don't know, but this is my attempt to change the story I tell myself and to focus on the people who have held me up and who have loved me along the way.

I will begin with Jenn Smith

I met Jenn on the tennis court. She had on red shoes. My co-captain and I were trying to build a great 4.0 team and we were scouting out new players. After seeing Jenn hit the ball, we quickly asked her to be part of our team. It took me 6 months before I could remember Jenn's real name. I called her "the girl with the red shoes".

Jenn was quiet and somewhat mysterious. She is not one who opens up quickly. Each time we would spend together it was as if she was slowly opening the pages of my favorite book while I eagerly awaited the storyline to unfold. She was kind and thoughtful. Many nights we would extend just "5 more minutes" until past midnight talking over a cup of coffee at Shades of Brown. Needless to say, I would be the one doing most of the talking. She helped me feel interesting and significant...she still does.

If you don't know Jenn, you are missing out. She is amazing. She is incredibly creative. She can take anything and make it beautiful. If you have been in the gardens of Philbrook Museum of Art in the past 7 years, you have seen some of her work. You should see what she has done with our backyard!!! She is also musical. She sings and can play a mean guitar. To top it off, she is an athlete. We did our first (and only) triathlon in 2009 and she smoked me in all 3 events. She is great at anything she puts her mind to...that is just who she is. This inspires me!


Jenn and I are very different. I am the ying to her yang. Or maybe it is the other way around. While I am more laid back and disorganized, she is much more structured, tidy and aware of every tiny detail. Where I am more likely to be drawn to budget, precise measurements and numbers, Jenn is more likely to feel her way through life and is guided by beauty and balance. I tend to be a planner and sometimes have a hard time letting go and having fun. Jenn has helped me learn how to relax and pause long enough to see the beauty in the simple.


We don't always get it right as we navigate this life together. She has learned what "red-headed temper" means and I have learned what it is like when two incredibly stubborn people try to figure out who is right in an argument. But we find a way to work things out and we continue to learn from each other each day. She loves me in spite of the socks I leave all over the house, the toilet paper holders I leave empty, the times I talk when she longs for silence and the collections of drinking glasses I leave in the bathroom and on my night stand. Jenn knows my secrets...the things I wish I could hide forever or change for good; she knows my struggles and my inconsistencies and she still accepts me and chooses to stay.

I want to grow old with her. I want to sit next to her as we watch the boys walk across stage at graduation or down the isle to say "I do". I want to celebrate retirement and grandchildren with her by my side. I want her hand to hold when life hurts and I need to know that I'm not alone.

Jenn is my very best friend and I am so thankful to be sharing this journey with such an amazing girl!

Until next time,
Becca

"Holy Chicken"

Tomorrow is the infamous and ever controversial Chick-fil-A "Appreciation Day". The thought of many of my friends loading up their kids and proudly standing in line at 71st and Garnett to order their "we are right and you are wrong chicken" makes me feel frustrated and sad. Let me try to explain...

To begin with, I believe in the right to have opinions. And I appreciate the moral code in which the Chick-fil-A company conducts their business. I think it is commendable that they follow their convictions of being closed on Sunday and I am in favor of their right to send their dollars to organizations in which they believe just as I have the right to do the same.

There are things to like about Chick-fil-A. I think they make a damn good sandwich and their ice cream is delicious. I love that they give my parents a senior discount and free dessert and know them by name when they make their weekly visit. If this "Appreciation Day" had not been politically hijacked, I'd be "eatin' me some chicken" tomorrow...I am all for building strong families in America. My sister and brother-in-law have some friends who's marriage was saved by one of the organizations Dan Cathy supports. That is a good thing people! I would be fully behind a movement like that...if only that is where it stopped.

Although most likely unintentional, posts like these are hurtful. I know there are many people who stand behind this cause because they love Jesus and they think that if Jesus were here on earth that he would be in line to support marriage tomorrow. But I beg of each of you who make this assumption to rethink this.

Although not a perfect example to make my point, it at least helps show the character of Jesus - When the men stood with stones aimed at the woman caught in adultery, did Jesus have a stone in his hand? NO! Jesus cared about PEOPLE...He wasn't an issue guy. Whether it is abortion, gay rights, war, religion...I do not believe that Jesus would have ever been a sign holder claiming that his viewpoints were RIGHT. That was the Pharisees obsession and Jesus spent much effort and time trying to convince them of another way. Jesus loved people. His love, grace and compassion is what drew people in, not his opinion.

And here is where Becca's demeanor shifts and my jaw clinches a little. Again, I have to stand by my belief that people have the right to their opinions, but nonetheless, this is hard to swallow. It is very hurtful when Christians take the stance that "the gays" are responsible for the demise of America and "God's judgement on our nation". This firm stance is what makes it impossible to be a gay christian and this political stance plants fear on one side and anger on the other. Until this is dispelled, I fear the gap will not be bridged by love, compassion and understanding.

 (In attempts to not speak for the whole gay and lesbian population, I will personalize this) I have dealt with my sexuality since I was around 9 years old. I felt alone, confused, broken, and afraid. If I could change this part of me that I hid in fear, I would have...I begged and cried out for God to change me. This is my experience and anyone's attempt to convince me that I just didn't try hard enough falls on deaf ears. If you haven't walked in my shoes then you will never understand. My story as it has unfolded has been ridiculously painful but I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't get bullied or beat up. My family continues to love me and I was never disowned. I moved through my hurt and instead of clinging to a destructive addiction I was able to grasp the parts of my faith that confirmed how deeply I am loved just as I am...that my salvation is through faith, not works and that there is nothing that can separate me from the love of God.

I have already gone through so much pain and vulnerability to live my life authentically. Now I am supposed to become the scapegoat for "God's wrath". Seriously??? Give me a break!!!

On my shoulders, I am expected to carry this burden when what I really want is to be treated fairly as a human being and left alone. My days are spent trying to love people - all people - no matter their race, size, socioeconomic status, or sexuality. Each person on this planet has value and I believe if you love them enough, they may start believing it! I want to live a life of compassion, grace and kindness. And to be very honest, many of my gay and lesbian friends live with these same goals. I guess I just don't understand what is so different about us that we should be feared.

 When any individual is defined by an attribute, it is WRONG. We are all human. We are all wonderfully designed and loved by God. We all have parts of us that contribute to the good in the world and all have parts that contribute to the bad. Hopefully, we all have days when our kindness makes a difference in the life of another. And no doubt, we each have days when we pull out in front of a person or make a rude comment and it ruins someone's day. We are part of this human experience together. So why can't we stop finger pointing and start seeking kindness, compassion and understanding. I assure you, we really aren't all that scary. After all, we are just like you.

As I explain it to my boys (ages 10 and 6):
While most people find a best friend of the opposite gender that they want to grow old with, some of us for some reason find someone of the same gender that we want to spend the rest of our lives with...our goal is to love everyone and show respect that their choice is what they felt is right for them. It is not our place to judge. My boys get it. Hopefully everyone else will catch on some day too.

So if you celebrate Chick-fil-A Appreciation Day tomorrow, I hope you see things a little differently. Be part of it because you are FOR strong marriages, FOR running a business according to your conviction...FOR really good chicken. Please don't go because you are against your fellow human beings right to pursue their hopes of freedom and happiness. And please for the love of all that is good and because you love me, please stop saying that people "like me" are the reason for all the bad in this country because it just isn't true! Allow me the decency to live my own life and grapple with God as I work out my faith. I will allow you the grace and time to do the same!!!

Much love,
Becca

Don't Spill The Beans

I’m a pretty considerate driver. I try to stay out of people’s way and tend to just go along with the flow of traffic. The other day, however, everything was different. It began with a slow Texas turn out of a parking lot and a careful acceleration to just under the speed limit. Each lane change was a planned meticulous event that I avoided as long as possible. In that moment, I may as well have morphed into my grandmother barely seeing over her steering wheel as she drove her burgundy Cutlass Supreme down the streets of Skiatook, Oklahoma. The main difference between my Grandma’s careful drive and mine was that I could feel the frustration of the drivers around me. But the fact is, you must drive slowly and with great caution when totting 2 huge trays of beans in your backseat.

I’m pretty sure everyone would have understood it if only they knew the load I was carrying. Perhaps next time, I will hang a sign in my back window “beans on board”.

Doesn’t this happen in life all the time. We expect people to extend grace to us when our load is heavy or potentially messy yet we so easily get frustrated when people cause us to slow down, make changes or God-forbid have to stop what we are doing. We tend to find brilliance in people who respond (or drive) the way we do yet we quickly get our feathers rustled when someone is different. The fact is, we don’t know people’s stories. We rarely slow down to listen before jumping to conclusions.

Just like “beans on board” perhaps we should each carry personal signs - “death in the family”, “I feel alone”, “I long for attention because my parents ignore me”, “I think my spouse is cheating on me“, “I just want to feel like someone cares if I exist“. Wouldn’t this help us see people as people rather that just an obstacle to our day?

I wonder how differently we would conduct our lives if we reached out to people with grace instead of responding to how their behavior affects us! Unfortunately, we will never carry signs. Information about our pain and insecurities is kept hidden and masked. Our life’s circumstances, relationships, secrets, fears, successes and pain have brought us to where we are. Equally, the guy at work who can’t quit talking about himself and the girl who can’t seem to quit talking about everyone else has their own set of circumstances, relationships, secrets, fears, successes and pain that has brought them to where they are. Maybe it would all do us some good to slow down and listen. Maybe if we understood the load that people carry, we wouldn’t be so frustrated by how they differ from us.

Just remember, sometimes you are the one carrying the beans and sometimes you are the person behind the bean carrier. In other words, you are often the one in need of grace and perhaps even more often the one who needs to extend it.



Until next time,
Becca

Just Be

A little over 2 months ago, we got a puppy named Izzy. She has brought much change to our lives. I never imagined spending so much time in my front yard but there I sit, each day on my front step, waiting for Izzy to take care of her business. I assure you, she is never in a hurry. Most mornings begin with a brisk walk around the block to work out some of her pent up energy. This, I really enjoy! And Larry, our 8 year old rescue dog, who used to practically live under the bed has now become very very social.

I have found it interesting to watch Larry change. At the sound of the alarm, he used to just reposition himself in bed. It wouldn’t be unusual for him to sleep 2-3 more hours before slowly getting out of his bed with a long low stretch. His favorite place to spend the day was under the bed where he seemed very content and pleased to have his alone time. Although we have an upstairs, he had only been up there maybe a dozen times in the year we have lived in our home. He was just a content lazy dog who lived a life of luxury on the ground floor…..and we love him the way he is, because he is Larry!

Then came Izzy.

Now, Larry is up at 6:30am ready for whatever the day brings him. He still retreats under the bed but at the first movement toward the kitchen, he bolts out like lightening to make certain no scrap or crumb hits the floor. If anyone bends down to pet the puppy, here comes Larry. He has even managed to squeeze his body into Izzy’s bed at night leaving her no choice but to sleep on the floor or wedge herself into what little space is left (as demonstrated in the picture).

At times I find Larry’s jealousy humorous. At times I find it annoying. And at times I become keenly aware of how pathetic and silly I must look when I do the very same thing!!!

So much pain comes from jealousy. I wonder what life would be like if we just lived the life our heart longs for us to live…from a position of gratitude, never worrying or comparing ourselves with others. I can only imagine how peaceful that would feel.

Recently when I was in Colorado and we were hiking up to Alberta Falls, we came to a drop off that lead down to a roaring waterfall. The waterfall demanded my attention, but then I started looking around at everything around this landscape. It wasn’t just the waterfall that was beautiful. The rocks displayed such power as the water crashed against them. The trees created a beautiful backdrop of green. Some trees even grew almost sideways out of the mountain so they could get sunlight. They were a picture of determination and survival. And the leaves of the aspens danced to the melody of the wind. The whole landscape was absolutely beautiful…every intricate detail played a part in this masterpiece.

As absurd as this sounds, what if the rocks sat all day pouting that they were not a river or what if the trees got tired of their leaves dancing and instead wished they were sturdy rocks. A bit silly, I know. But isn’t this what we do all the time. We obsessively spend our time comparing what we have, what we look like, if we are the best at this or that. We not only just mentally compare, but often we try to be someone we are not, just to feel of value. We so easily get swept away in the game of jealously that we miss out contributing our part in the masterpiece.

So if you are a rock, be a rock. Be sturdy. Be bold. Be a secure place to stand. Just Be!
If you are a tree, dance and sway with joy. Be flexible. Be beautiful. Be a place to find shade. Just Be.
If you are a river, flow. Be glorious as you meander the landscape. Be a place to be refreshed. Just Be.
We are ALL part of this story. Every single one of us plays a part in this masterpiece.

May we each have eyes to see God…not only in the rocks and the trees and the rivers, but also in our brothers and sisters!!!

The Window Seat

If given the choice, I pick the window seat. But even if I am in the aisle, I crank my neck so I can keep my eyes glued out the tiny window. As the wind moves under and over the wings to cause lift from the ground, my mind goes to the same place each time. As I watch school buses become blobs of yellow, trees become patches of green and buildings become dots of gray, I cannot help but think about how little and insignificant I really am.

It’s funny how much time we devote to feeling important. We carefully pick the clothes we wear, schools we send our kids to, cars we drive, and even the phones we carry because we think people are looking. Whatever it takes to get the most positive attention. It seems that we want our gadgets, our hobbies and the people we associate with to tell a story about who we are. And at all cost we want to avoid things that don’t validate that story. We can let a spot of ketchup on our khakis ruin our day. (My gosh, what will people think?) This whole game we play is subconscious.

For some reason though, when I am cruising 550 miles per hour and looking down to see nothing but squares of different shades of brown and green and occasional blue bodies of water, I become very conscious that none of this matters! I am really really really small!

I love watching HGTV. I don’t know why but it brings me pleasure to see the inside of homes and what people do with their space. The other day, I was watching a show about a family looking for a home on a beach overseas. They had a budget of 1.2 million. Seriously, who has that kind of money? Oh well. Happy for them. They saw a few houses and then the realtor snuck in a 1.4 million dollar house to compare to. It had all the bells and whistles. The granite counter tops. The heated tile floor. 9 bedroom. The pool overlooking the ocean. A beautiful grill and outdoor seating. I know this will be shocking, but this couple somehow pulled together an additional $200,000 and bought the house with all the extras. About 15 minutes after I watched the show, I walked into our kitchen to get a drink. Our white tile counters made me roll my eyes; we need some granite. I looked out in the backyard and the broken tiles around our pool shouted back at me, “fix me!!!" Our little $35 charcoal grill looked very sad and out of place on our back porch like a 1982 station wagon in Donald Trumps driveway. The list of things that HAD to be done to our home all of a sudden became very long. Why? Because I was comparing myself to the guy who had an extra $1.4 million to spend. My perspective shifted. My position of gratitude and awe that we get to wake up each day in a home that we love was replaced with a focus on what wasn’t perfect.

Don’t we do that in so many areas of life. You walk out the door feeling pretty good about the 5 lbs you lost and then you end up sitting by your workmate who is a size 2 and now you feel like an elephant. You feel so proud of your kids and then your friend starts bragging about how her son was voted 'most likely to be the next Payton Manning'. Suddenly, the fact that your kids won the Spelling Bee or The Math Olympics doesn‘t seem worth mentioning. Or you finally make that last car payment and it is 100% yours and then your sister-in-law drives up in her new Ford Mustang convertible or even worse a Jeep Wrangler loaded with an off-road package.

Perspective shift…

Yesterday, I got a letter from Frantz. He is from Haiti and we have been sponsoring him through Compassion International for over 5 years. In his letters he asks me questions and I do the same in my letters back to him. In yesterday's letter, he asked if we are taking any vacations this year. As a matter of fact, we are. We are going to Colorado in September and Disney World in November. It is my habit to send him pictures so I sent one of a Florida beach and one of the Colorado mountains but I kept the details to a minimum. With Frantz, I feel embarrassed at the abundance we have. The price of our airline tickets alone is more than I send him each year. Knowing that he lives on a dirt floor with his mother who is in poor health makes me feel ashamed that having granite countertops even matters to me. And how in the world would I explain Disney World to him? It all seems so insignificant…and completely unfair.

The fact that there are even 1.4 million dollar homes in existence when there are people in this world living on dirt floors is a shame. Knowing that I will drop thousands of dollars so we can go hang out with oversized pretend animals when there are people who can't scrape enough together to keep their utilities on is kinda hard to swallow when I think about it.

I am so thankful for my home and the AC that blows non-stop these days. I am thankful for the car that gets me where I need to go and I am thankful for my good health. My perspective should always be from a position of gratitude! My hope is that I never put my desire for granite countertops in front of making a difference to those who don’t have clean drinking water or those who can’t find jobs in this economy. May I never focus on the ketchup stain on my pants instead of the person who needs a friend to listen. And may I never focus so much on what’s in my head that I ignore the stranger who just needed a smile to be reminded that they are not invisible.

And next time I start focusing on what I don’t have, may my perspective shift back to a position of gratitude quickly. Stuff doesn’t matter. After all, from a distance,they are just blobs of color.

Two Ears, One Mouth

We all have opinions - nobody is capable of communicating from a completely neutral position. We all take a posture that is based on both the negative and positive lessons from our past, the pain and circumstances from our present and the fear and hopes of our future. So, when people come together in a relationship, there is no way they will agree on everything. This makes friendships fun, exciting, dangerous and challenging all at the same time. I always thought I was easy to get along with and pretty good at communicating. But there is one thing that plain ticks me off….

If you want to get under my skin, make assumptions about me. If you want to really tick me off and make my Irish red-headed blood boil, ask me a question and then instead of really listening to my answer, start judging how you think that I feel. What hurts me the most is when my intentions are misunderstood and when my feelings are not validated no matter how much the listener disagrees with them. At the very least, I want to know that I have been heard.

Last Wednesday I was sitting across a table from an amazing friend of mine, munching on a burrito and sipping on a Coke. During our conversation, it came to my attention that I do the very thing that I hate. I realized that I carry a chip on my shoulder so to speak. For as long as I can remember, in my desperation for wanting to convince people that my heart is good, I have become defensive. When I am defensive, I stop listening. When I stop listening, I misunderstand intentions and devalue my relationships. I would never want this done to me. This was a sobering discovery and it has been hard for me to swallow.

Perhaps the most heart breaking thing is that I have done this to people that I love the most. Over the past 2 years, I have found my voice but I have used it to shut people down when they are just trying to communicate with me. This makes me sad because what I want more than anything is to live in honest relationships with people. I hate that I have not been a safe place for some people to honestly share their hurt...especially when I am the one who hurt them. Instead of focusing on how the hurt was unintentional, I should have kept my mouth shut and listened. I should have validated their pain and emotion and said that I was sorry. Sometimes I wish that I could re-wind...

I have learned that people’s emotions and thoughts do NOT have to make sense to me in order to be meaningful and valid to them.

As a friend and partner, my job is to love. And in my experience, being heard feels a whole lot more like love than being criticized, judged and critiqued. I am not saying that there is not room for honesty in relationships. I think it is vital! But the moment someone opens up and shares their heart is not necessarily my opportunity to spew my opinions on their life and attempt to solve “their” problems. This should be done sensitively and cautiously and only by invitation.

I am determined to work hard in the future to be more loving in my responses...I know I will fail at times. My “knee jerk” reaction is to defend but I really want to change this in my life. I was created with two ears and one mouth…hopefully I can learn to use my ears twice as much.

Until Next time,
Becca

Thank you Marissa for helping me see this and thank you Jenn for tolerating me while I learn.

The Answer

DISCLAIMER: These are my thoughts...because this is my blog. My passion is my spiritual life so it tends to be what comes out when I sit down to write. I hope nobody ever thinks that I am pointing a finger and thinking I have it figured out. I don't! I am just speaking from my observations and with deep honesty about how I see things. Again, I apologize if I hurt or offend anyone. My goal is to get things out of this crazy brain of mine and perhaps make you think. Read on, you've been warned. ;)

I remember a time when I thought the answer to every question was “Jesus”. Stomach ache? Jesus. Close parking space because my legs are sore from the gym? Jesus. No rain so the tennis match doesn’t get cancelled? Jesus. Rain so the tennis match DOES get cancelled because I have an early morning? Jesus.

I think it is cute now hearing my boys, 5 and 9 years old, say the same things I did for so many years. My oldest hurt his finger the other day and he told me not to worry because Jesus was going to make it feel better. My youngest asked if anyone was strong enough to pick up a building and when I said “No” he said, “You’re wrong. Jesus can.”

The way we view Jesus and our lives is so messed up. We thank him for the front row parking spot as though he orchestrated a miracle so we could be lazy. Funny thing is, if Jesus were driving, he would likely have bypassed that spot to leave it for someone else. We thank Jesus for the unexpected upgrade to first class thinking we have “God’s favor” but he would likely have turned around and offered the upgrade to another passenger. We even thank him when we win football games as though he played a part in making us score more points than our opponents. We pray it doesn’t rain so our hair looks good for picture day yet there are farmers just down the road that depend on that rain for their livelihood and when it doesn’t rain and our hair looks fabulous, we thank him because he answered OUR prayers. Even more sobering, we pray that Jesus turns the storm from our home and then find out that the tornado wipes out an entire town. Oops.

Sometimes I think that we try to sell Jesus. We promote him like he is a “genie in a bottle” who can be rubbed when we really want or need something. Or maybe we promote him more like the “miracle potion” to drink or apply to our pain and everything bad will go away if we have enough faith, of course. I know that’s what my kids think. I am afraid that is what I thought for many many years. Funny thing is, it didn’t work most of the time. In spite of my prayers, Jesus didn’t whisper the answers to the test in my ear, I still got the stomach virus even though I asked for Jesus to protect me from it, and people still died even when 2 or more were gathered to beg for their healing.

Let me set the record straight before anyone thinks that I am going to bag on Jesus. It’s not going to happen. I’m a Jesus believer and a Jesus follower. I’m just not so certain I am in complete agreement with who some say Jesus is. Often times I wonder if he showed up now in 2011 if many of his followers would even recognize him. He wouldn’t be standing on a street corner holding signs condemning the gays. He wouldn’t be driving a new SUV and talking at prosperity conferences proclaiming that all you need is faith in him and you could be rich. He wouldn’t be on any billboard advertising miracle vitamins and encouraging you to go tell your friends. He wouldn’t be at a political rally promoting capitalism and strategizing how to help the rich stay rich while the gap between the rich and poor continues to widen at a shameful rate…I wonder if he would even be in a church.

When will we stop focusing on what Jesus can do for us and start paying attention to the life he lived and the lessons he taught with his life. Jesus didn’t talk down to people. He defended the rejected. He noticed the short guy in the tree. He was annoyed by the pious religious “know-it-alls” and did a good job of annoying them by not validating them or conforming to their ways. He was protective (even of the prostitute who was about to be dodging stones). He loved his friends. He fought against culture. He chose people over religious practices. He wept. He knew how to party and I bet enjoyed some really good wine on occasion...rumor has it, he even made some out of water! Even when he was tired, he paused and made sure people’s needs were met. He looked people in the eye. He washed feet. He took the time to love children. He was the epitome of compassion love and grace. And even at the point of his death, when he was beaten and completely rejected, he had compassion. He recognized that the very people who were spitting in his face and piercing his sides didn’t know what the hell they were doing and he forgave them. GRACE!!!

Seriously what kind of person would not have been drawn to this man?

I think Jesus is more honored when we emulate who he was instead of just sing about how great we think he is. If we sing for hours about his love and amazing grace, it is just a waste of breath if we then just hop in our leased vehicles and hide away in our expensive homes all in the name of the American dream...after all, we have “In God We Trust” on our money so God has to bless us, right? What good is it if we don’t love our neighbors AND our enemies, meet eyes with strangers who long to be notices, and give generously to people who really need not just (or necessarily) in the offering plate. I think if Christians as a whole really lived like Jesus, Christianity wouldn’t be so repulsive to so many in the world. Maybe if we would love each other and not try to control each other with religion, more people would want to take part in the conversation.

Case in point, when I was 35 years old, I stepped foot for the first time in a bar. My marriage had fallen apart and I wasn’t quite sure if God still loved me. That night I sat across from a girl who was raised in my same church background. She opened up to me about her life and how she had been asked to leave her church. Church members had even come to court during her divorce and petition to take her children away from her because her lifestyle didn’t align with their reading of the Bible. I looked her in the eye and even though I was still unsure about nearly everything, I knew to my core that God still loved her. And if God loved her then God still loved me. She didn’t need The Four Spiritual Laws. She didn’t need for me to tell her about how we are born with a “sin nature“. She didn’t need for me to prove to her that religion had all the answers and all she needed was a new crisp Bible and some discipline. She needed to know that she mattered. She needed to know that she was loved. She needed to know that no matter where she was on her journey that she had a friend who would remind her that people sometime suck, but God loves her just as she is!

For me, the message of the cross is the affirmation of God’s incredible love for us. The message of Christianity is confusing and sometimes seems so far from the message of Jesus. If His life and death were all people knew of Him, perhaps more would experience the changing power of knowing that the Creator loves them (PERIOD). There is no stick to measure up to. There is no set of required rules to earn God’s love. God loves everyone - no matter their race, gender, religious beliefs, sexuality, whether their “good” or “bad”, their likes, dislikes, habits, hobbies, family, history or future. God’s love just is! It's our job to believe it!