Dead Monkey Babies

¹⁴ For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. ¹⁵ But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins. 

Matthew 6:14-15

New International Version (NIV)

What does dead monkey babies have to do with forgiveness? Well, it's a story my sister Claudia once told me. She went to a conference where a priest was preaching on forgiveness. He told the story of of a monkey whose baby had died. The monkey refused to be comforted, or to let go of the dead baby. She fought the other monkeys that tried to get the dead monkey baby out of her arms. The stench got really bad, but the monkey still wouldn't let the dead monkey baby go. Flies began to gather around the monkey with the dead monkey baby. Yet she diligently held on to the dead monkey baby, cleaning maggots off of it, and trying to feed it.

Before long the rest of the monkey didn't want her to come near them because of the grossness of the decomposition of the dead monkey baby. Even though she was hurt and lonely she held on to the dead monkey baby. The priest went on to say that's what unforgiveness is like; holding on to a dead monkey baby.

The day after the door incident, I was more than a little angry at the woman who accuse me of not honoring Jesus in this season. I was also angry at  Ms. Nosy, mainly because she desires my friendship, but more then that she desires to control me. I see the way she controls a couple of other women on the council. She also ostracize another member of the council that she can't control. She tried to create a situation that would show me that she could do the same thing to me(oust me from a candle lighting ceremony that the council members were suppose perform). I got called to do it anyway by the building manager. She wants me to conform to her opinions and ways. It backfired in her face before I know what she was up to. She reminds me of a schoolyard bully, when what she attempted to cause me hurt backfired, she came up to me and gave me a hug after the program and whispered, "Thanks for being my friend," she might as well said, thanks for nothing! We both know I have no desire to be her friend.

The day after the Christmas party the members of the council met to pass out fruit baskets to the residence in the building. I could almost feel the chill coming from her. In my pockets were these two stuffed monkeys. I know I had two dead monkey babies that I was carrying. My friend Susan was also carrying her own unforgiveness. I told her the story of the dead monkey baby. She refused to carry the stuff monkey. My sister and I have used stuffed monkeys as a teaching tool in bible study for years. If someone says something that's bitter, angry or full of hate; we hand them a stuffed monkey and tell the story of the dead monkey baby. It may seem childish but it helps when you are conscious of the fact that you're holding on to a debt that a person can't pay back. Forgiveness is a requirement and not a choice. I carried my monkeys around, not to hold on to them, but as a prayer for grace to let them go. 

By the time we finished passing out the fruit baskets I knew it was time to let my monkey babies go. It was easy for the girl who accused me of not thinking about Jesus. She don't know me, and she's just forming an opinion without facts to back it up. I didn't expect people to understand my reasoning behind my decor. Susan called me to her apartment and let me know that my carrying the monkey babies helped her to forgive the one that hurt her. Abba can use anything as long as you do it with a sincere heart. To be honest I still harbored resentment toward Ms. Nosy mostly because she kept up her childish behavior. The next day after the program in typical Ms. Nosy style she knocked on my door, this time she had a beautifully wrapped Christmas gift. She asked me to open it because it was perishable. I opened it and it was a box of sausage, ham, and cheese from Swiss Colony. Attached to the box was a card once again thanking me for being her friend(or for nothing). I appreciated it, but I have come to realize that everything she does is calculated, and cunning. I wondered what her gift would cost me. I thanked her and told her I would would get back to her before Christmas.

I didn't have much money and hadn't thought to get her a gift. Susan gave me her whole collection of jewelry making supplies since she can no longer make jewelry with her eyes sight fading and arthritis in her finger. I have made beautiful jewelry for my family here and a few friends. I sat down to create something lovely for Ms. Nosy and couldn't do it. Every bead seemed too flawlessly  beautiful to give to her. I grab one of the stuffed monkey babies, and prayed, "Lord please help me forgive her, and love her. I need your help on this one."

The Lord knows how to show up in the most unlikely of time and circumstances. I had promised Susan and her sister that I would go to a craft making program they were hosting at their Church. I didn't want to feel obligated to buying Ms. Nosy a gift, but I knew that it I needed to get her something. I wanted to combat whatever her next move may be. I knew it wasn't from the goodness of her heart that I got the gift. When we got to the church there was one woman there that was setting up the food and door prizes. Susan walked up to a beautiful blue and gold gift basket. It had expensive chocolates, cookies, gourmet caramel corn(my favorite treat), coffee and other gift items. There were six or seven door drawing prizes with a thirty or forty people expected to turn out, the basket was the most desired. Several of the women present including Susan expressed desire for it. I thought it would make a nice gift for Ms. Nosy. Just as nice as the one she gave me. I said a silent prayer, "Lord if you want me to give her that basket then make sure I get it.

I got the basket.

Okay, there sometimes a fine line between doing the right thing and wanting to do it. I wanted to keep the basket. It was gorgeous and filled with mouth watering delights. I didn't want to give her beads and I was given plenty. That's the problem with dead monkey babies, after awhile the smell sticks to you. It was something really ugly festering in my heart. At first I tried to find a loophole. I prayed the prayer in my head, maybe it didn't count(I pray in my head regularly). Or maybe I can take a few of the goodies.  It just got worse and worse. It's times like these that I have to fight my flesh to wrestle away from it's ugly grip. I had to let go of the dead monkey baby and give her the gift.

I gave her the gift the next morning. She was reluctant to take it, at first. She asked if it set me back. I told her, "No it didn't set me back at all, but if she didn't take it, it would set me back." That was the truth, not financially but spiritually. I sit with her and talked for awhile. I told her I was starting a bible study in the building in the first of the year, and I wanted her permission as the president of the resident council. I had already asked the pastor of the church next door that run the building. I don't know why Abba wanted her to have the basket. I do know he used it to break through the rough places of my heart. I actually enjoyed sitting and talking with her. I realized that when you go beyond someone fault you start seeing their needs. She's just lonely, and being president makes her feel worthy and accepted. She need to feel needed. Her children doesn't visit often and she feels abandoned. I hope she joins the bible study. She did seem genuinely excited about it.

I'm glad Abba gave me the grace to forgive. What better way to let go of past hurts then to give something beautiful and mean it from your heart. Isn't that was Abba did when he sent Jesus to die in our place? He forgave us and gave us gifts.

Fearless

Sore Loser

Okay, I'm a sore loser. I lost the door contest. However I'm not a sore loser because I thought my door design the best, although it suits my personality. I'm a sore loser because of the way I was treated the night of the Christmas party. Tuesday night was the night of the annual Christmas party for our building, given by the church next door. They come in periodically to let us know what great Christians they are by doing something mundane for us less fortunate. Don't get me wrong I have nothing against missionary work, and I do appreciate their effort, it's just that their effort are to me a- little condescending. They make statements that says it's us, and then there's you people. I don't think they're aware of what they say. We're their mission field; the heathen, unsaved and society's undesirables. Some have even come to me and asked me if I "Live here?" One woman told me I don't look disabled, of which I replied, "Thank you." I had no other reply. I'm not sure what disable is suppose to look like. I'm not disabled. I refuse to accepted a label my Abba didn't give me. Which brings me back to the night of the Christmas party.

In the last week Abba has given me a great friend in the building. I knew when I met her she loved Abba and her light is bright. I met her on the day the OBC put on an arts and craft workshop. Her and her sister taught the workshop. I sat next to her and we joked and laughed together. I found out that day that she lived on my floor. I didn't see her again until the day of the Christmas tree incident. She's the one that called me a perfectionist. Then the day of the OBC meeting I saw her walking down the hall and invited her to sit in on the meeting. We have been inseparable since. She's very crafty and she taught me how to make jewelry. I loved every minute of it! She's helped me decorate my door. We made the chain in the center of my door decor with the things she had in her possession. She loved my loud pink crazy designed. She knows I'm an original one of a kind miracle of God. My door reflects my love for Jesus. I did my theme of frankincense I wanted it to have that royal mid-eastern look. I have not celebrated Christmas in many years. For one, it's my opinion that it's not Jesus birthday(in the sense that he was born that day), but despite all I have learned about the holiday or any religious belief, I decided I celebrate Jesus everyday. What better way to celebrate Jesus then to be who he created me to be, fearfully and wonderfully made. Even though my door was so beyond traditional Christmas (I didn't want the Nativity scene, Santa or reindeer). I didn't celebrate the baby Jesus. I celebrated the King Jesus. He's my King. I threw in) the bright reef to remember to replace his crown of thorns. I knew that only Jesus understood my reasoning, I knew I would probably not win.

I helped decorate several other doors with the infamous Nosy Lady(President of the OBC) that first knocked on my door. She's healing from her broken hip and not using her walker. I enjoyed meeting my neighbors and helping them out. As I went to each apartment that we helped out, I noticed that she would call them "One of the good ones." Since becoming the secretary of the building council it has become apparent that some in the building are considered acceptable(mostly veterans or people considered intelligent) by her, and some are ostracized (mentally challenged) and the rest ignored completely(physically challenged). The more she talked the more my spirit grieved. So I started suggesting we decorate the doors of the unacceptable in the building. For some reason she desires my attention and time, so against her silent protest we decorated their doors.

The day of the Christmas party it didn't matter to me who won the door decoration prize. However when the time came for the prize, a woman from the church who happened to confuse my action with one of the guys in a wheelchair for my husband. The guy in the wheelchair has from the moment I met him by the mailbox, felt as if he's in the way. He's sad and lonely and for reasons that are obvious to me feels less than everyone else. I simply made his plate and found him a place at one of the tables. She went on to call him my old man. Finally I told her that he's just a resident and neighbor, and my husband is dead. She seemed offended. Little did I know, she's the top judge for the door contest. Boy, did she ever get back at me for correcting her. For the Christmas party we had a live band, catered meal and, a present exchange.

The time for the door decoration prize came at the very end. The woman whose error I corrected got up and asked everyone whose door number is called to step up to the Christmas tree. My door number was called. There were four of us called to the front, Ms Nosy, the other two were women who are faithfully attending the church next door. One women decoration had a K.U. theme. Most people here in Lexington are K.U. fans. One woman's door was strangely nondescript  with Santa Claus, snowmen and anything she could find to put to the door, however she has a plaque that's beside her door with John 3:16 on it. It's been on her door since I lived here and not apart of her Christmas decoration. Nosy Lady did have a beautiful door, I helped her decorate. Her door had red sparkly paper, trimmed in gold. She put a card on her door, mostly because it was gold that said, Glory to God. The lady went on to say, that it was a difficult decision that the judges had to make. I suddenly felt as if I was on some reality series wondering if I made the cut to continue on the series.

I didn't...

Not only did I not make it, she wanted to give me the reason why I didn't make it. With her good Christian condescending facial expression, she looked me right in my face and said, "Your door decoration didn't win because, "you didn't put a scripture on your door. You didn't remember what the season was about. This is a Christian building, it has a scripture on the outside of the building, it's ran by a Christian organization, and it's all about Jesus." I was singled out as lacking a Christian perspective. Santa Claus, K.U, and Nosy Lady's red and gold just showed more love for Jesus. I was the filthy heathen in her eyes. Our good Christian Christmas party had a secular band, booty shaking dancing by the the younger crowd, and apparently me. Somehow only I was the problem. I needed to acknowledge Jesus in his season. I gracefully listened as she continued her assault against me, I realized it was no longer about my door, but my lack of love for Jesus. I walked away from her assessment feeling as if someone had dumped trash at my door. I'm glad I know Jesus, if I didn't I certainly wouldn't want to know the Jesus that she represented. Sometime we can preach another Jesus by or actions. No matter how we see this season the people that profess to be Christian, must show love at all time other than that we're just lying to ourselves, and we don't know Jesus at all.

Nosy Lady won, because she had scripture on her door. She's a good Christian.

Somehow in her assessment of me, I not only lost the door contest, I lost my love for Jesus.
That's what makes me such a sore loser.

She took all that I have....

Fearless

Love your neighbor

²⁹ “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. ³⁰ Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.³¹ The second is this:Love your neighbor as yourself. There is no commandment greater than these.”

Mark 12:29-31

New International Version (NIV)

I Still find myself avoiding people most of the time. Alone is easy for me. I can always immerse myself in something that doesn't require company; Reading, games, internet surfing. My mind is filled with people, places and things that are unreachable to me. I ignore those who may actually desire my time and attention. I'm mostly a prisoner of my self-centered nature. I didn't mean to get like that. Like a lot of people I know the information age has grabbed me in a choke hold and refuse to let me go. Friends on Facebook, Twitter, tumblr, and whatever new social network comes out is easier to maintain. I can write the words love and hugs in the comment section, it's easier that way. Don't get me wrong I have met many really nice people this way, but Abba wants us to love and hug the people close to us. He puts us in places or around people to be salt and light to them. We can't ignore those closest to us. I have been guilty of this very thing too many times to count.

Since moving into this building almost three months ago, I have mostly ignored my neighbors. When I do happen to run across a few of them, I speak and talk to them gracefully. I have helped with groceries, wheelchairs and doors. For the most part we are strangers forced together by circumstance. We can each shut our door and live separated by thin walls. There are a few that refused to let me shut them out. I thought them intrusive, and pushy, but I have come to appreciate them. The week I moved in a woman knocked on my door, and matter-of-factually stated that she heard, "You don't have furniture." I was a little taken off guard, mainly because I have lived in my own little bubble for so long. The last few places I've lived were not neighbor friendly places. We spoke and might have even formed an opinion of each other, but no bond. There was no borrowing sugar, or baking cakes welcoming new-comers to the neighborhood. We were one notch above random strangers passing without barely a glanced. Somehow I got used to that. We were the working class.

This building is different, very few of us still work. We are society's cast-off; the elderly, disabled, and handicap. Some have lost limbs, some have legs that were never able to carry them, some worked on jobs that were so physically stressful, they walk with crooked and bent backs, some are accident victims who never quite recovered, veterans that just saw too much and never forgot the pain, and like me some have been struck down non-expectantly by illness that left their heart weak and fragile. While others have gotten older, and living in this building makes them feel independent, and less lonely for the children that they spent their lives loving; whom now have lives apart from them. We're all sizes, colors and nationalities. The one thing we have in common is are need to be loved and accepted.

Before I lived out my first week in this building the woman that first knocked at my door invited me to our building committee meeting. All the women on the committee that attended that meeting were all older,  and either grumpy, or bitter and gossipy. Oh, did I mention bossy? I was the new kid on the block. I was on display and all eyes were on me. Before long they took me under their wings, because in their words I was "someone's child." I lost my mother, grandmother and adult status. You want to know how bossy old ladies make you feel- like a child. The one thing in my favor is the fact that I passed inspection. Of course I was asked a multitude of questions,(Are my parents alive? Where did I grow up? What kind of upbringing did I have? I guess my answers were satisfactory, because they not only approved of me, but asked me what responsibilities I preferred in the committee, secretary or treasurer. I chose to be secretary in a weak and timid voice, mostly out of fear, and my excessive desire for approval.

The truth is: I had planned on making one meeting, and dodging the committee members for the rest of my life if had to. I had learned to dodge the first woman in my first two weeks as a resident. It was easy she uses a walker for assistant. I would sometimes run or duck back into my apartment when I saw her coming. I tipped toed around my apartment if she knocked. I ignored her as if she were the Jehovah Witness at my door selling Watchtowers.

Since becoming the secretary of the "Old Biddies Committee" or OBC as I call them when out of ear shot or when I'm complaining to my sister. I have had to take on an active role in our little community. Since most in the the building are older or have debilitating illness, I appear to be one of the younger healthier ones. I recently did the majority of the decoration on two of the three Christmas trees. That's the thing about the OBC, they will not let you "NOT" be apart of things, unless they don't like you. What I didn't realize at first is that even the OBC is a blessing from Abba. He has been telling me that relationships are important and he wants me to develop relationships. For the last couple of weeks I decided to do as much as I can for my neighbors; little random acts of kindness.

At first it was rather difficult to sit and listen to some of them. I could feel the bitterness and resentment coming from them. Their mouths were like poison to me. They spoke of family members that had stolen from them or hurt them. They spoke against other residents. I tried my best not to interrupt them, and ask them to forgive. There is a time to keep silent, and a time to speak. I didn't think it was the time to speak yet. Listening is sometimes a problem for me, like most know-it-all's(nice term for dumb-ass). I'm learning that true wisdom listens more then she speaks. Not only am I listening to the people, I'm listening for instructions from Abba. I smile and listen and defended the other residents in the way I have learned to defuse gossip over the years. Love is kind. Instead of preaching to them I mop and clean for them that are not physically able to do it for themselves. I listen and love.

In the building every year at Christmas time we have a door decorating contest. Although it's been many years since I celebrated Christmas; this year I have thrown myself into decorating. It was the day after Abba told me that relationships are important that I decorated the Christmas trees in the building. It's also the day I learned something else about myself. I'm a neat-freak and still a perfectionist. I got together with five of the other women in the building to decorate the trees. One women spoke of her sister being a perfectionist and how much she hated it.  She went on to call me a perfectionist. I explained that I am NOT a perfectionist, I just have a type "A" personality. She refused to do anything without my permission. Neither would any of the other women, except one.  Almost every time the only one that helped did anything, I would either undo it or sweetly tell her it was wrong. She was annoyed with me and the others seemed too nervous of making a mistake to participate. So they unraveled lights or put the hooks on the ornaments. As annoyed as I was with the only one that would help; I realized that all of them must have been annoyed with me. It was that awkward moment when I realized that I'm annoying.

When the one woman that actually helped with the hanging of the ornaments asked me why I keep replacing colors and re-positioning tinsel, I replied, "Because I'm annoying." The next tree I refused to allow myself to be so annoying. Unlike the first (blue and silver) I just went with a multi-colored, anything goes tree. I didn't care if it was three reds in a roll or two many green in one area (okay, I didn't care as much). After that everyone pitched in the ornament hanging. It truly turned into laughter, merriment and relationship building. The women told me that in previous years it took them several days(five or six) to decorate for all the trees. We did it in a few hours.

Since that day many of the residents have asked me to help with their door decorating. Even though I'm annoying and meticulous, and the really bossy one, I'm still accepted. Isn't that what love does. It let you be you, and it realizes that we are all different and we all have something unique to bring to each other. Isn't that a part of loving our neighbor? Isn't loving each others a  proof of loving our God?

Fearless