Steve's Buddy Marvin

The Priceless Gift of Marvin 

It’s hard to remember exactly when Marvin* melded in to our family becoming one of us. Steve met him when he was a student in his p.e. class in the early 2000s. Marvin was adopted when he was three years old out of an orphanage in Costa Rica. He had an intellectual disability which limited him in our culture’s eyes, but from our point of view now, he had no disability. He was relationally gifted with an amazing ability to live life whole heartedly. This was his normal.

Marvin Keir 1987-2020

Steve has always been naturally drawn to those in the margins. He has the spiritual gift of authentically loving those for whom most of us have very little time. Little kids, older people, and those with special needs draw him in like a magnet. Marvin, and a few of his friends at Liberty High School were no exception. Steve started telling me about a kid named Marvin in his p.e. class that was all heart. While the more athletic students moaned and groaned slogging laps around the track, Marvin gave his all with a smile on his face. He was slow, but he never cut it short and he never complained. Steve was impressed with Marvin's attitude.

Steve’s relationship with Marvin grew quickly and he started bringing Marvin and friends home after school to play basketball, eat snacks and sometimes swim [one of Marvin’s favorite memories to recount again and again was the time he pushed Cabalka in the pool]. I have to confess, I wasn’t always happy to see the carload pull in the driveway, after all I had my task list waiting for Steve. But seeing their faces lit up like Christmas, hearing giggles and unending banter usually won me over pretty quickly. How can you not melt when a car full of young guys are thrilled to be at your house? All it took was a few graham crackers and lemonade along with a basketball and a friend who welcomed them in his heart to make them feel like they’d won the lottery.  And that list? It means nothing now. Eventually, Marvin came alone more and became Steve’s shadow. Their deep affection for one another was palatable. 

Marvin and his best friend, Markie, became the managers of Steve’s soccer team. They’d chase balls, haul water, and stick as close to the coach as possible. Marvin’s favorite spot was within six inches of his buddy Steve. “Hey buddy. We’re buddies huh Cabalka?” would be repeated over and over with Steve teasing back “we’re not buddies! Don’t call me buddy.” To which Marvin would grin and say, “Ya, we’re buddies.” Steve would break out a smile and say, “you’re right, we’re buddies.”  At the end of one soccer season the parents pitched in and bought Marvin and Mark letter jackets. Pride in it’s purest form radiated from them with their jackets on!

Marvin became Steve’s T.A. in his health classes. I wonder what the ‘normal' students thought at first. Steve tells me they loved Marvin. I can’t help but think their love for Marvin was fueled by Steve’s own. Love and acceptance are contagious aren’t they? Marvin would call roll and handout papers and get so excited to sit behind Cabalka’s desk to monitor the class from time to time.

Do you ever stop and ask, “what is normal?” I’m going to share more Marvin stories in the future. But, for now I am sadly aware of how much we will miss our Marvin, and how I wish we could learn more from Marvin’s normal. The other day Steve said, “I want to be more like Marvin,” and I knew exactly what he meant. You’ve probably heard the phrase about how people won’t remember what you taught them, but they will remember how you made them feel. Marvin made you feel like you were the most important person on the planet. That was his normal. A different normal than mine. That was one of his many gifts. Marvin and Steve's friendship transformed our family and we are all richer for it. 

*Marvin passed away of cancer on February 26. He was 32 years old. Steve spent the last weekend of Marvin’s young life at his bedside retelling stories (and, of course, listening to FREE BIRD:) Marvin and Steve either texted or talked on the phone at least 5/7 days of the week. He leaves a big void in our world. We’re very sad, and incredibly grateful for all he brought to our lives. 

Do you LIKE me?

Do you LIKE me?
What if there was no LIKE button?

Would we still post our pictures? Our pithy phrases? Share our opinions or funny memes? Write blogs? Or, share articles?

What’s underneath why we do what we do?

Everyone has an opinion about social media platforms. Some love them and freely express anything and everything. Some never post, comment on, like or unlike anything, but secretly spy on those who do. Some dip in and out, going on and off for all kinds of reasons. Some use it to express anger and hate and divisive views on everything from breastfeeding to refugees. Some use it for campaigning their work or cause. Some avoid it completely.

Whether we like it or not, it’s here and it has impact. I don’t bring this up to deliniate the pros and cons of social media. I bring it up because I’ve been contemplating what’s underneath it all and asking myself: what are we hoping to gain when we engage with it? Probably because I’m putting myself out there more as I revive this old blog. I’m questioning myself .

Is our need for affirmation a selfish thing? Is our need to be seen, known, heard and respected wrong? 

Do you like me?

[I know some of you are hearing Sally Field in your head right now gushing, "you like me! You really like me!" But, seriously, has there ever been a more honest acceptance speech?]

Remember when social media didn’t exist? It wasn’t that long ago. Back in “those days” (sorry kids), you only knew what was going on with someone when you actually saw them, or talked to them on the phone. Listening to tone, seeing facial expressions, and hearing why people were feeling the way they do. Responding with an audible voice, you'd share your perspective in the context of the relationship. And, it didn’t happen with that many people. Relatively few when you think about it. Our vulnerability was reserved for a select few. This still happens, but you have to admit it's a fading experience in our current smart phone culture. Trying to discern tone in a text can be tricky (and dangerous).

Back to my question. What if there was no LIKE button? I think engagement in social media is screaming out what our hearts have always longed for. To be seen. To be heard. And, to be affirmed. To know we’re loved and accepted and that we’re being cheered on as we navigate this bumpy path of life. God designed us to be that voice of encouragement in each other’s lives. Several passages in Scripture tell us to build each other up, use wholesome, edifying words, to encourage* one another, and to walk alongside those who are weak or hurting or wandering. We see that we’re all in process and there is grace for each step, as tense and messy as it may be.

Read the account of almost any Bible character and you will see this transforming process come to life! I guarantee you that if they were posting their opinions and pictures along the way, there would be many posts we would raise our eyebrows at and judge immediately. We’d probably block many of them from our feed! All of Paul’s letters encourage us to be kind, patient, tenderhearted, forgiving and bound together in love. Is there anything more affirming than that? Why did he have to keep repeating the same message? Because we’re not good at doing this. It’s so much easier to criticize and judge. Jesus summed it up in one sentence, “do to others as you would like them to do to you.” As my hubby would say: "BOOM!" Yes, Jesus is the Source of Love, but we are the embodiment of love for each other.

I confess, I need affirmation. I need people in my life that believe in me no matter what. I have a LIKE button that needs positive responses. When people choose to follow me on this blog, it encourages me to keep writing. If I make a brave decision, even if you wouldn't make the same, I need to know you're still for me. I need those voices in my life. And, I think you do too, no matter how thick your skin has become. 

I've decided if I am not close enough to you to have a real conversation, I won't voice an opinion that could hurt you from my keyboard (or from a microphone, or behind a pulpit). Golden rule rules! And, here's a tip, if you just can't help yourself, you can hide or unfollow anyone at anytime. Step away and take some time to do what Jesus said to do: Pray they would be blessed. If I were engaging with you as a spiritual director, and you explained the angst you feel around following some people on line, I would sincerely ask you, "why are choosing to still follow him/her?"

I can tell my self all day long that other peoples opinions of me don't matter, and there's some truth in that. But, whether I'm affirmed or not does. My soul needs true companions just like Jesus' did. Through thick and thin. It's humbling to confess that need, but I do.

Whether we engage in social media or not, or if we agree with one another or not, I pray we can accept and encourage one another with God's help. 

Romans 15:7 says, 

 Accept each other just as Christ has accepted you so that God will be given glory.

 I have fallen short of this instruction far too many times. When I think deeply about how Christ accepted me, I am humbled and grateful. Unconditional, complete acceptance. The more I let that soak into my soul, the easier it becomes to authentically accept others. I pray that this incredible grace overflows from me bringing God glory.

Can we look for ways to press the LIKE button for each other in new, creative, authentic ways? Don't hesitate to affirm someone today. Maybe even someone you wouldn't normally encourage.

What affirms you?  Share this post with someone you'd like to affirm, or be encouraged by. Are you wanting to make a change? Do something brave? Let's cheer one another on. We have enough in life trying to tear us apart. 

*encourage in the New Testament is a verb (parakaleo) and it means to call to one's side (to call near); to comfort; to exhort and admonish or affirm.

Insider Information: Grief and Year of Jubilee

I can handle this

Childhood home torn down October 2016

My childhood home was demolished last October. That image has become a metaphor for me in this process of grief and loss. It was a great home, but its season has passed. Now, something new and more useful for this season is being built. The process is hard, ugly, painful, lonely and messy; but, extremely necessary. 

I've always been independent. I was raised to be. So, I'm not the best at taking advice, or easily believing what others say is true. Six years ago, I took a course on Grief, Trauma and Loss. I learned a lot of great information, but deep down thought, it can't be that big of deal. The teacher kept talking about the hard work of grief.  It's not something you get over, it's something you go through. It's work, it's complicated. I dismissed those words and put them in the category of: yeah, for the poor, weak, and emotional ones! Poor things.

Most chapters in life can't really be understood, until you've lived them. Like studying the map of New York and knowing all the subway lines, but not really understanding the experience until you've gotten lost on one. That doesn't mean you shouldn't enter the conversation with those who have been, or are in, the midst of confusion. 

As I was taking the course, my mom was diagnosed with cancer. Nine months later, she passed. Three months before my mom passed, a very close friend of mine died as well. Here's a summary of my 2012, as far as losses go: 

May: good friend died

August: mom died

September: favorite, and best dog ever died

October: major immediate family crisis

November: sold our home of 23 years and moved to a new neighborhood

December: husband's job changed (I, too, made a huge job move the previous year)

My default is to keep going, others have it much worse, buck up. So, I did. 

My strong, independent dad was alone, after 57 years, and left to take care of himself. I had to be strong for him. I had to keep helping others, I had to serve in the church. I had to...

My dad passed last July 31, 2016. That changed everything.

Even after all the personal work I'd done on leading and living from a place of rest, I put on my soldier boots and kept marching. As you've probably guessed, I hit a ditch, a dark one, and couldn't jump out; I had to climb. One step at a time. Baby steps, one step forward, five back etc. I'm still climbing, but I'm beginning to see and feel the light again. Thank God. 

Here's my list of must haves (in my opinion, and I am the one writing this) when you walk in grief:

Friends who initiate with you:

• A "me too" friend
• A "let's take a walk" friend (because you don't feel like self care!)
• A "let's get a foot massage/pedicure" friend.
• An, "it's okay, you can quit or walk away friend/community"
• A "you can be crabby, and I'll still love you" friend

Insider Tip: Don't wait for your friend to 'call if she needs anything!' Call them, show up.

If you don't have these kinds of friends, become one and they will show up when it's your turn.

Permission to Quit:

     One of the hardest parts for me was to admit, "I can't," or "I'm not able." The energy is just NOT THERE! I couldn't muster it, guilt it into being, or create it through normal practices. It just wasn't there. Finally, I fully admitted it, and basically walked away from all responsibility, giving myself permission to take a year of Jubilee (google it). A year where you let the soil rest, and the deeper work take root. A year free of indebtedness. A year of healing and restoring.

Insider Tip: Applaud these brave steps. They aren't easy to take. 

Good Books: Audible has become a close friend!

Here's  a few of my favs during this process:

• Falling Upward (Richard Rohr)
• The Road Back to You (Ian Cron; Suzanne Stabile)
• Lilac Girls (Martha Hall Kelly)
• A Grief Observed (C.S. Lewis)
• Out of Sorts (Sarah Bessey)
• Present Over Perfect (Shauna Niequist)
• Small Great Things (Jodi Picoult)
• And, of course, the Scriptures. Especially the Psalms. Love 145.

For everything there is a season,

a time for every activity under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die.

A time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to kill and a time to heal.

A time to tear down, and a time to build up.

A time to cry and a time to laugh.

A time to grieve and a time to dance.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

I wouldn't say I'm dancing yet, but the music is getting louder.