Coptic Dad & Mom

One last post here. One last whisper into the still of the night to let you know that we have MOVED:
Coptic Dad & Mom the Blog is now over at copticdadandmom.com

There are a few new posts up already...
We've Moved (our moving announcement)
Welcome to Our New Home (a brief history)
God Is Calling (a note to all of us who journey together)

You can check out our About Us page for a brief letter from me.

I'm sure you are all curious... So what happens to all these posts here on Blogger?

I had three choices:
1. Learn how to migrate all the old posts over.
2. Pay thousands of dollars to someone else to migrate them.
3. Just leave them here for now.

I have decided to go with one AND three. I have moved all the posts over, and I will also leave them up here. Since they are not in pristine condition over there, I will try to take the time to polish them. But as I do get A LOT of hits on my old posts, I will also keep this site up for now. I want to keep helping people who look for my vegan Molokhia recipe or like to read my description of the guidelines for fasting.

I hope to eventually rework the best of these old posts into new and even more fabulous posts on the new site.

If you follow me on Bloglovin', I have tried to make the transition seamless, but you may need to add yourself to the new blog copticdadandmom.com.

If you want to subscribe to receive each post, fill out the subscription form. Those who subscribed on the old form have been migrated over and should start receiving e-mails soon!

I think that's all the housekeeping that I need to do.
I want to THANK YOU for all the support and advice you've given me. Please come over to copticdadandmom.com because we need Christ and each other more and more as the world grows darker.

With love,
Tasoni (Coptic Laura/Coptic Mom)

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Dear Tasoni,

A year ago I was fired from my job, and I am still so upset about it. I'm so frustrated because I know how hard I was working. I know my boss was being unfair, and I keep thinking about it. It irks me to no end. I keep wondering WHY did she fire me and what should I have done differently. Honestly? Sometimes I still cry about it. It was kind of a dream job. I was only there for four months. She really didn't give me a chance. I've never even failed a class before. I'm a really hard worker. What should I do? I just can't stop thinking about it.

Fired in Austin, TX

Dear Fired,

In the course of a lifetime, what does it matter?

Your feelings matter. Trust me, as an INFJ, I know feelings matter. But we can't let our emotions cloud our perspective. You can't give your emotions about a particular life event cloud your judgment and color your behavior. Don't give a painful period in your life power over you.

At the risk of sounding cold, my first thoughts were... So she fired you. So what?

Living in the past is incredibly dangerous. It seems like a great idea while you're doing it. "Let me just mull this play over one more time to see how I could have run it," you think. But at some point you need to take a deep breath and recognize that the game is over. It's time to start playing a new one with a clear head.

Being fired from a job is a lot like a failed relationship. You can choose to let a four month whirlwind Paris romance control your entire life, or you can chalk them off as four beautiful painful months in your long and lucrative history. Other things will happen in your life. But not as long as you hold Paris up as the pinnacle of your achievements.

You choose the lenses through which you view your life. You decide whether you are the victor or the victim--long before you are either. If you choose to feel victimized by common everyday occurrences, like being fired from a job, or having been in a failed relationship, or even little decisions you've made in your life, you will be holding yourself back *immensely* from rising and achieving you own personal victorious destiny.

God does not want that. He does not want you held back by your baggage. He wants you to unload it on Him and move forward.

So you got fired. Is it really that unusual? Maybe you believe yourself to be above us mere mortals, but come down from your "Woe is me" pedestal for a bit. We've all been in those situations. We have failed classes, jobs, relationships, Mondays. Your situation is not unique.

If it's been a year and you are still stuck in the past, you need to take the necessary steps to move on. You need to get serious about letting go of your mistakes. The best way I know of to do that is to make NEW mistakes. Yes! You heard me correctly. Dive in, take calculated risks, and live to fail another day. Leave that mistake in the dust of new adventures.

It is ultimately what life is about. Need Biblical proof? Moses made mistakes and excuses left and right. And he was one of the greatest prophets in the history of the entire world. Do you need to give yourself 40 years in the wilderness to figure that out? Or can you try maybe the 43 days of the Nativity Fast that's coming up?

All things work together for good--if you allow God to work unhindered. You either believe He has your best interests at heart or you don't. Trust Him and move forward BOLDLY.

I'm almost scared to ask--are you employed right now? Why ever not? Or if you are employed but not satisfied, start planning your comeback tour. No, not the same job, but to another one--equally as thrilling. Look ahead, plan ahead. Make your life happen.

You are going to do great things! Don't waste any more time on your way there. God is already waiting two steps ahead.

With love,
Tasoni

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Starting November 12, I will no longer be posting new material on my blogger site. Instead, I will be posting on a new, self-hosted site. I am so excited and nervous that I am literally nauseous. This is one of those leap-of-faith moments for me. I have no idea what I'm doing. I just know that this is the next right step.

Isn't it crazy how God works that way in our lives? We only get light for a few more steps... We have to trust the rest of the path will open up in His way and in His time. And there are no shortcuts.

Oh, how we long for shortcuts. Too often we think if we just break this one little tiny commandment, if we just ignore this one little tiny precept, we'll get there faster and less painfully. Abraham and Sarah come to mind. Boy, did they love trying out shortcuts. "Just say you're my sister," Abraham says. "It'll be easier that way," he tells her. "Take Hagar," Sarah says. "Let's make it happen our way," she insists.

You can't take a step in God's way that is against God's commandments. He doesn't ask you to do that. For Joseph, it means he can't fulfill his dream by sleeping with Potiphar's wife. For David, it means he can't become king by stretching his hand out against God's anointed. For Peter, it meant he couldn't just slash Christ's attackers to save his Lord. You can't go against a commandment of God as a shortcut to God's path. He doesn't work that way. When you sin, when you take your own shortcut, you slow God's work in your life dramatically.

Think about the life decisions you face now. Joseph went to jail for years to avoid breaking a commandment of God. David wandered the countryside for years to avoid breaking a commandment of God. Susanna was almost put to death for avoiding breaking a commandment of God. St George was tortured by seven kings for seven years rather than renounce his Savior. What suffering are you prepared to endure for your Savior as He endured suffering for you? What leap of faith are you being asked to take? What situation do you need to entrust to God instead of trying to take your own shortcut through it?

Pray for me as I pray for you. God bless your week!

Remember you can reach me at bloggingtasoni AT gmail.com or by commenting below.

Today, Coptic Dad & Mom will mark an important milestone. We will hit 60,000 unique views. That's an average of 1,500 visits per month for the last three years. This number is HUGE by some standards and tiny by others. I am just so grateful that you come spend some time here each month. God bless you and keep you and help you on your journey towards Him. Stay tuned for more exciting news :).

Update: We have MOVED to CopticDadandMom.com!! Thank you for making it possible! Read How to Be More Loving to Unloving People over there!

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We face difficult people every day. We face people we don't understand, who don't behave towards us in ways we expect, who don't show us love. We face people who make us angry or tired or sad by their behavior, people who attack us or ignore us or hurt us in other ways.

We see these people in school or at work. Sometimes, we live with them in our own homes. Sometimes they are simply rude strangers on the road of life.

But we are Christians. We are required to be Christ-like. We're asked to bless those who curse us (Matthew 5:44). Can you imagine? A guy gives you the finger while driving, and you are asked to *bless him*. And I say "asked," but really it's not a request. Are you a Christian? This is what you're supposed to do. f(A) = B. Period.

But HOW?? How can we be loving towards unloving people?

I always think about David being chased around by King Saul, a man he had loved, trusted, and looked up to, now out to kill him. It's worth it to go back and read those chapters in 1 Samuel. Saul makes himself David's enemy, but David refuses to harm him. He shows him and his family extraordinary love.

So how. How can we be more loving? This isn't a problem with a short and easy solution. My short and easy solution can be found in "You Will Die (So Will I)." To really be more loving requires a paradigm shift. It requires a new pair of glasses to put on to love more clearly.

First, we have to acknowledge that God puts loving people in our lives. He really does. If we open our eyes to them, if we take our eyes off the difficult people for a minute and look around, we see that we are surrounded by examples of love. And they don't have to be loving us--we can look towards people who love their neighbors or their friends well and emulate them. We can soak up all the habits and tricks and ways of loving that also fit into our personality. We can read biographies and memoirs of people who loved greatly. We can open our eyes to all the tiny and GREAT ways that God loves us: the timely rainbow, the well-placed flower, the miracles that take our breath away.

Then, we have to recognize that God gives us opportunities to practice empathy. This takes time to really learn, but it's so important. We need to spend time each day putting ourselves in someone else's shoes. It means when you're standing at the cash register, stop and think about the cashier's tired feet. It means when you're at a red light, sneak a peek at the person in the car next to you. You'd be surprised how often I spot people crying alone in their cars. And then say a prayer for these people. Pray for the traffic cop with his radar pointed at all of you because it's his job and it's how he brings food home for his children. Pray for the professor whose home life you spot spilling into his professional life.

Practice with strangers and work your way in. The hardest person to love is sometimes the difficult person closest to you, but that's the one your love affects the most. That's the one you're most responsible for loving. That's the one you're held most liable for if you don't.

Stop it. I can hear you already. Fight the urge to say, "But shouldn't she be more loving to me first!!" Stop that thought before it poisons you. Even in school we were taught to mind our own business. Our own personal sin, our own lack of lovingkindness, that's where our eyes are to fall.

Maybe you've got the speck and he's got the plank, but you can't see that from where you are. Theory of relativity and all that. Only God can see which of you is less guilty. Because we are all guilty.

But maybe you're perfect. If so, I recommend you stop reading my posts. They're written by an imperfect person for fellow imperfect humans. Here we work towards perfection, knowing that the only Person to bridge the gap in us is God.

Go out and try this today. Try it now. Look up and find someone being loving to learn from and find someone being difficult to practice on. Be generous with your love. Your salvation depends on it.

"For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you." (Luke 6:38 - one of my favorites)

Want to ask a question or ask for clarification? You can comment below or e-mail me directly at bloggingtasoni AT gmail.com If you would like to join my e-mail list, you can do so here: Coptic Dad & Mom E-mail List.

WE'VE MOVED! READ THIS ON OUR NEW SITE: CopticDadandMom.com!!!

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I want to thank all of you who took my survey. I was BLOWN AWAY by the number of responses I received, and I have learned SO MUCH. It is a very big deal for me that you took the time to do that. I have been writing here at Coptic Dad and Mom since early 2009, and I can't believe it took me this long to work up the courage to hear from you like this.

We're mostly women here, though some men did take my survey. We aren't all Coptic Orthodox--or even Christians--and we aren't all clergy wives--or even married. Yet we are deeply connected.

I remember vividly all the dark times I survived by writing here, and I am so happy to be on the other side of those days now. All of your encouragement and love have made a world of difference to me. When you're out in the storm and you hear the voices of loving people--no matter how faint over the crash of the waves--it gives you strength to hold on and to move forward. I feel so blessed that you have been there for me, praying for me, and I am paying it forward both through face-to-face interactions here in my world and through future posts in the online world. I'm really very grateful.

I am working through why I write and trying to understand for whom I write. I want to serve wholeheartedly, the way Christ loves, and the way you all have been there for me. I yearn to serve you better, to encourage you better, and to improve myself as a writer, as a servant, as a child of God, by listening intently to you.

If you would like to contact me directly, e-mail me at bloggingtasoni AT gmail.com. If you would like to join my e-mail list, you can do so here: Coptic Dad & Mom E-mail List.The first e-mail includes the behind the scenes stats from my survey!! (Don't worry--none of the personal writing will be shared in that way).

Get ready for changes--but I won't take away the one thing you all told me you valued most--my raw honesty. I will work to be me in everything I write, so you know exactly who you're hearing from.

P.S. You asked for video in a BIG way, and WOW that is scary. I am trying to work through the fear and figure video out... but WOW that's scary :D!!

P.P.S. I tried to find a picture that captured all of me. I'm also a professional photographer, so I had to fight the urge to "fix" myself in Photoshop. This is me. My trademark smile, my goofy self, the twinkle in my eye, the hair that just. won't. For some of you, this is your first time seeing me. For those of you who know me, what do you think? Accurate representation of moi?

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I like to remind myself that I could die at anytime. Or that my loved ones could die at anytime. Yes, it's a scary and quite literally morbid thought.

I woke up this morning to find an article about a teenager who was dropped off with a friend on a sidewalk and moments later was struck by a hit-and-run driver. Life ended at 19. Below the article was a link to another about a single mom who died of health complications and whose one-year-old child unrelatedly choked on her food and also died. Wasn't there some TV show about all the strange ways people go? How bizzare.

Usually, our own death and the death of those around us is a thought we don't want to entertain. But our lives would take on a much different tone if we kept that in mind.

If our loved ones could die at any moment and under a myriad of circumstances, we can't waste time holding grudges--both for the sake of our relationships and for the sake of our salvation.

Our loved ones could die at anytime. If we can't be pleasant towards the people around us, at least we can train ourselves to think pleasant thoughts about them.

I have a friend who makes me so angry. Just does completely inappropriate things that annoy me. And I can't go more than a few days without saying something nice to this person. Because acting loving generates feelings of love, forgiveness, kindness. And now all my friends are checking their phones to see if I'm talking about them :D!

Is this double-minded? Not at all. I genuinely love my friends. I love everyone. My goal is to grow love between people. And my goal is to daily be a more loving person. If I train my thoughts to be loving, if I deliberately choose to act in love, I will achieve that goal.

I'm really counting on that verse that says, "Love will cover a multitude of sins" (1 Peter 4:8).

So let's stop it with the grudges already. Unless our life goal is to be bitter people, what's the point? Unless our life goal is to poison our own lives, what's the point?

When a begrudging thought comes to our minds, let's imagine it's a balloon that we release. Or picture the thought as a whisper going in one ear as we open the door to let it out of the other.

Then let's replace the begrudging thought with a positive one--about that person if we're able or just a generally positive thought. Let's think "Wow, that cloud looks so cool" or "Oooh, I really like the scarf I'm wearing today" or "Hey, self, remember when so-and-so made you laugh about this-and-that." Before we know it, this "release of the negative and lift of the positive" thought process will become a habit.

And in committing to that we become more Christ-like--which is the whole point of our faith anyway.

You could die at anytime. Pump as much love into the world as you can before you go.

I was going to just close the survey without telling anyone and then the most recent survey respondent just blew my mind. Now I feel guilty if I don't give everyone a fair chance to speak their mind.

So I am giving you all until 11 p.m. EST today (Tues. 10/6/15) if you want to take the survey then it will be CLOSED. Just ten questions [essays ;) optional] but trust me I read every word and pray for each one of you as I do.

Next post on this topic will give you an idea of some of the intriguing results :)!

COPTIC DAD & MOM SURVEY

If you're going to talk about police and communities, if you're going to pretend you understand black and white issues, you better watch this video first. Our white privilege attitudes have to come to an end. We are blessed beyond imagination. Beyond imagination. God is so good to us. We need to learn to build each other up as an entire community instead of tearing each other down. Such a moving video.

Also, This American Life did a two-part piece on integration. They didn't cover all the bases. Still--it was very informative and terribly heartbreaking. I had to stop and take a break to cry every few minutes. I wish I were joking, but as a (former) school teacher this was very difficult for me to listen to.

I have been thinking a lot about the refugees coming out of Syria and other war-torn nations in the Middle East and Africa. Some media outlets would have us focus on the effects they will have on our countries. Instead this morning, I am thinking about how migrating will affect the migrants.

I am an immigrant myself. I moved to the United States at six years old. I was not a refugee. I didn't arrive on a boat. I flew with my mother and my 18-month-old sister across the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean in a spacious jet. Yet it was difficult.

It was the first time my mother had to communicate entirely in English. She was dealing with two squirming kids by herself. She had to navigate customs and border control in a foreign tongue. It was her very first time on an airplane. I think about that journey often.

These days I compare it to the harrowing journey of Syrian refugees. I think about getting on a boat in the dark with men I don't trust to go to a land that barely tolerates me.  To leave a land I love, that I adore, that suddenly hates me--like a mother wrenching a runt from a litter and tossing it aside to die.

I think about Elián González. Back in 1999, Elián and his mother left Cuba on a boat to escape to America. His mother died on that journey, and a few short months later he was sent back to Cuba to his father. I remember how, as a 15-year-old girl, I rooted for him to stay, watching events unfold on television, crying about his mother's sacrifice, dreaming of a life for him here. I think about him on the boat. I compare him to the tiny Syrian boy whose corpse washed up in Turkey. What a miracle it was that Elián made it. What conflicted feelings I have about us as a nation sending him back.

Pulitzer Prize-winning photo of Elian being taken from his maternal relatives to be returned to Cuba (by Alan Diaz of the Associated Press)

The numbers are hard to wade through. SyrianRefugees.eu estimates that 9 million Syrians were displaced both within and without Syria by summer 2014. That's as if all of New York City (plus a million more people) were suddenly homeless and on the run. Three million people had made it out of Syria, mostly in Lebanon and surrounding countries. About 100,000 were in the European Union. Again, these are 2014 numbers.

The UN Refugee Agency UNHCR has its latest numbers (Sept 2015) at over 4 million registered refugees. The number of registered refugees out of Syria has DOUBLED since those summer 2014 stats. If I am analyzing the chart correctly, 50% of them are children. That is 2 million lost and terrified children. Most of them are in Turkey and Lebanon.

When my family moved to the United States, we left behind a fully furnished apartment in an apartment building owned by my grandfather. A back-up plan. A home we could always return to. These refugees... They have no plan B. They have no back up plan. They claw their way out of the darkness into a hostile light. Maybe they left behind homes. But there's no guarantee those homes will every be theirs again, no guarantee those homes will even exist.

“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door.” the inscription on the Statue of Liberty

Wretched refuse. Homeless. Tempest-tossed.

I wonder if today, for only a moment, we can put ourselves in their tiny velcro shoes.

====

We arm our enemies, then we lament as they turn on us.

We arm them when we don't pray.
We arm them when we don't care for the poor.
We arm them when we ignore the helpless.
We arm them when we indulge the self.
We arm them when we harbor grudges against one another.
We arm them when we label an "other."
We arm them when we're negligent in our fasts.
We arm them when we keep one foot in the world.
We arm them when we are afraid to speak up.
We arm them when we tuck our God away for the sake of "peace."
We arm them when we don't know our faith.
We arm them when we don't learn the answers to important questions.
We arm them when we lose our tempers.
We arm them when we hide our tears.
We arm them when we don't submit to one another in love.

I used to rush to answer online questions about Christianity. I thought it was a chance to hone my skills at answering questions and also show off my level-headed and loving answers to insulting and outrageously ignorant questions.

Now I just feel sorry for those who sit on the computer and bash others under the guise of intelligence. What they really need is a hug. And you can't reach through the Internet and hug those who really need it.

It's easy to answer real questions borne of reality and curiosity; it's hard to answer nonsensical questions based on false assumptions and outright ignorance. Where do you start answering a question or responding to a comment that just reveals the asker's limited life experience and worldview? I would have to back up and give a three hour history lesson and define pages and pages of terms and in the end I would have to ask myself, "Why bother?" Is someone who spews vitriol without any knowledge of the truth truly open to it?

Sometimes I just want to wink and point and say, "Hey! Jesus loves you!" But that just makes mad people angrier. If He loves me, they ask, where was He when ... You can't teach someone whose eyes are closed all their life how to open them in the full midday sun. We need to start with a lit match--or just a glow-in-the-dark star. Just a touch of love.

Can people feel loved through the Internet? We live in a world where being rude to people is ok but disagreeing with them means you hate them. Everyone's on edge. Everyone's got road rage. Everyone's trapped in fight or flight. And why?

"Religion should be eradicated! Religion has killed X number of people." Tell me more. Which religion? Under what circumstances? Was that religion or was that greed? Let's go back and study that history together.

For lack of religion, 54,559,615 babies have been aborted--murdered. That's 54.5 million. For reference, 11 million people were killed in the Holocaust. A little under 3,000 died in the attacks on the World Trade Center Towers on 9/11. None of these deaths is small or meaningless. Every life has value. Let's make an effort to be educated before we make loud and angry remarks*.

In the meantime, you are loved by God, your Creator. He walks beside you, and He knows every moment you have suffered. He is not ignoring you. Please don't ignore Him.

*me first

I was going to write some level-headed responses to hateful comments written on Facebook in response to John Rhys-Davies, but I honestly can't keep the bile down. I can't read and respond without an overwhelming nausea. So I'm going to just write his lovely quote and move on with my life. Maybe I can give it a shot in a couple of days when I catch my breath again.

"Basically, Christianity in the Middle East and in Africa is being wiped out. I mean not just ideologically but physically, and people are being enslaved and killed because they are Christians. And your country and my country are doing nothing about it."

From The Blaze

Sometimes the only thing that will fix everything and put everything back together is a hug.

Everybody take note.

I've been having trouble finding my voice lately. Or maybe I have just mastered the art of silence. It's not that I don't have anything to say, I suppose. It might just be that I am so wise now I can quietly look down on everyone else in my haughty zen wisdom (ha!).

It might be that I am feeling so insecure that I don't trust the words that come out of my mouth. Maybe I have just seen the futility of everything I have to say. I have no lesson I can teach. I speak to a friend one day about how important it is not to cause others to sin and turn to find him causing others to sin within the week. I try to teach myself not to judge others, and I find that I am unbearably judgmental of myself as well.

I cannot find the words to say that make everything right, that put everything right. I cannot form the advice that will save one person's life or another person's marriage. All is futile. Why try? Why not turn inward and shut everything else out?

Or maybe I am learning the art of emptying myself to allow God and His Holy Spirit to fill me and speak in my place. His words can save a life. His words can make right our wrongs and clean and iron out my overwhelming mistakes.

And, in the interim, there is a tentative silence.

I'm working on a novel. It's going to be a New York Times Bestseller instant viral hit that solves all of life's problems and tackles all issues facing the Coptic Orthodox church and its youth today and basically does the job of a Sunday school teacher for you. Did I mention the instant part? No pressure yo.

So, of course, the novel is going utterly dismally. Because who can write with all that weight on her back? I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

Add to this that I'm a very post-modern existential writer. I write in vignettes. They go nowhere. They end at the beginning. Nothing happens. No one learns anything. They just are. And then they aren't.

Add to this that I'm a stay-at-home mother of a toddler and feel like I live just left of The Yellow Wallpaper and may lose it at any moment.

Add to this that I'm constantly face-to-face with other people's crises and feel no longer capable of giving advice of any kind. Even indirectly through fiction. Just go and live your lives, people. Nothing to see here.

After years of being one of the kids, one day I suddenly found myself in "tante" shoes. When I got married and had my own child, I--in what felt like an overnight phenomenon--became one of the aunties at church to everyone else.

In a previous post or two, I tried to explain tantes to all the youth out there who think they can read tante's mind.

Recently, as the mother of a toddler, I have started to recall those feelings of insecurity we often get when we feel a tante is frowning at us. We are certain they are judging us, and we assume all their thoughts are hostile.

But as I grow older, I realize I frown in liturgy more often. Sometimes I frown at people coming in to the church. Sometimes I frown at someone passing by. And I wonder to myself what they must assume I'm thinking.

Here are a few things I might be thinking as I frown at you:

1. Did I forget to close the garage?
2. Oh, I love that dress she's wearing. I hope I remember to tell her after.
3. Aww, look at that tiny newborn. Mine are all grown up now. Woe is me! How I miss that age.
4. I am a horrible person.
5. Did I ever return that call from her mom?
6. How come I don't know this hymn?
7. Lord, forgive me, a sinner, and have mercy on me.
8. We really need to change that wallpaper.
9. Uh-oh. Was I supposed to bring a snack for the youth meeting?
10. She's frowning at me. My kid's whining must be bothering her.
11. I miss my mommy.
12. Oh goodness. Am I frowning? I hope I'm not frowning.

I mentioned before how much I loved How to Win Friends and Influence People and how my biggest takeaway from that noble tome is that everyone's thoughts are self-centered. We all worry about ourselves and our situations first and foremost, and we assume everyone else is thinking about us, too. This way of viewing the world is at its most heightened in adolescence (about age 10-19) but can linger all through our 20s.

The likelihood someone is actually thinking what you think they're thinking is so so slim. Trust me. I confront enough people to know that their thoughts are in quite an opposite direction from what I would expect.

If you really want to beat tante at her own game, go up to her after church and say, "I'm so sorry, tante, that I was bothering you in church." I guarantee that in all sincerity she will be completely baffled and have no clue what you're talking about--and will take special care to be extra kind to you from then on.

Yesterday, our congregation prayed a memorial service for the 21 Coptic martyrs killed in Libya. I was surprised at how difficult it was for me. I thought I had put to bed all my inner conflict about the event. I thought I was ready to "rejoice" at their homecoming, singing glorification hymns in celebration of their entry into paradise and their acquisition of holy crowns of martyrdom.

I am not ready. I am not ready to close the book on their lives and relegate them to memory. I need their example before me.

I don't want to debate politics or policy. I don't want to argue about anything (which is completely shocking if you know me at all). I have already forgiven the murderers.

I have not forgiven myself.

For not appreciating God's blessings, His mercy, and the countless "second" chances He grants me.

For ever complaining about missing meat or cheese while He hangs on the Cross for me.

For the moments with my family I take for granted.

For the lack of trust and the wallowing in worry that I do to make myself feel useful.

For the pettiness.

For the selfishness.

That's all I have to say today. I need more time to reflect. The verse that's on my mind is

"But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty..."
1 Corinthians 1:27

Though yesterday I presented my own response to the brutal public execution of Coptic Christian men in Libya, I wanted to share with you other notable responses as they appeared across the web. I will try to update this list as more statements are issued.

Fr. Anthony Messeh
From One Emotional Extreme to Another

His Grace Bishop Angaelos of the UK
The Only Way Forward Is to Forgive

Ann Voskamp
The Wake-Up Call that is ISIS: Who in the Church Is Answering?

WHY I WRITE
I hesitate to add my own voice to the chorus of people responding to ISIS's recent video of the beheadings of 21 Coptic Christians in Libya.

I hesitate because the story is new. The blood hasn't dried on the beach yet. How can I even begin to process this event?

I hesitate because the story is old. Every Divine Liturgy (the Orthodox Church service), we read the day's entry from the Synaxarium (the Lives of the Saints). We all know this story. Christian under tyranny of the enemy. Holds fast to faith. Tortured. Beheaded. Crown of Martyrdom. (Today, it reads, with no irony, "[The governor] ordered that the head of St. Paul be cut off at the seashore.")

I long ago released the urge to have the visceral "Let's go kill all the people who did this" response. I am too tired now for that. I have to point out a different direction of thought. Otherwise, what's the point of writing at all?

THE MASKED MEN
If you saw the video (I did not and have not even linked to it here because I understand it is insanely graphic) or stills taken from the video, you will notice that while all the martyrs' faces are visible, the executioners have their faces covered. I think perhaps this serves two purposes. The first is for ISIS to appear as the terrifying face-less bogeyman of this decade. The second is so that no one person bears the guilt of these deaths. It is not so-and-so who beheaded the man before him; it is ISIS as a whole.

Unfortunately, no amount of face covering can remove individual guilt. There is a person behind each mask, an individual with a story. I am not the type to believe that all the psychopaths of the world just happened to gather on the beach for this massacre. The story is more complicated than that. I'd like to believe the person behind the mask has a name. I'd like to believe the person behind the mask has a family. I would like to believe that he will be haunted by his guilt.

Did he know the name of the man he killed? Did he see in him a man much like himself? How will he explain his actions to his conscience each morning satisfactorily? Does he know he ripped a hole in his soul? Can he feel his humanity seeping away?

Did he do it for money? Did he do it for a sense of "purpose"? Did he do it because all the other guys were up for it, in a show of male bravado? Did he do it because he was bored? One day he leaves his childhood home for a more exciting life as a "warrior"; the next he's on a beach taking part in horrors his heart may never process?

MY WISH
I am sincerely concerned about the individual executioner. The man he beheaded is dead and warmly welcomed into the Father's embrace. The martyr's family will be cared for by the Church and dearly cherished by God every day for their sacrifice. The Church everywhere will reel, but most of us will continue to live our cushy lives.

The executioner lives. The pallor of the murder he committed will lay over him. The shadow of God's vengeance will trail him. The stench of blood will never wash out of his fingernails. Will he go mad with the pulse of the martyr's heart ringing in his ears?

Yet that is not my wish. My wish is that the name of Jesus Christ, shouted by those killed, worms its way into his brain, works its way to his heart, spreads like fire through his nervous system. until he sees Him shining in glory before him. "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?"

Christ knows his name. Christ knows his heart. Christ sees his face. The Lord will reach out to him. Over and over.

OUR CALLING
Christ reaches out to us. He demands we live to a standard higher than that of our enemy. He demands that we LOVE our enemy, that we do GOOD to those who persecute us. He demands that we BLESS those who curse us.

God is testing YOU, dear reader, and me. Can we love this enemy? Can we do good to them and bless them? Can we follow the example of our Lord and say, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34) and mean it?

Today is the first day of Lent for the Coptic Orthodox Church. We have a long journey to the cross and the thorns. A long journey to the glory of the Resurrection. Can we turn our hearts and minds to worship the Creator in truth, by obeying Him?

“But why do you call Me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do the things which I say?" Luke 6:46

(other notable responses)

It's very hard to write with a toddler. It's very hard to think with a toddler. Truly, it's very hard to do any normal human activity with a toddler.

Except snuggling. Snuggling with a toddler is pretty epic. My son's arms are soft and chunky little things that wrap around my neck so tightly. And when he smiles at me... Sigh. Don't get me started.

Then there's laughing. Laughing with a toddler is pretty epic. My son has this incredible deep belly laugh. My daughter and I adore him for it.

Yesterday I tried to copy him. I tried to laugh from deep within my belly and realized I couldn't remember the last time I had done that. When did I get so serious?

Being an adult is a huge waste of time. Being a toddler. Snuggling and laughing. That's where it's at.

I have spent the last two years or so coming to terms with my new life and my new role as the wife of a Coptic Orthodox priest. I remember the darkest moments, but they have become so faint to me now. This blog might be the only record. Even the scars on my heart that I thought were so permanent have faded. Looking back, I can see now God's embrace, His support, His plan. The unknown is so terrifying, but His light illuminates everything.

The very worst moments have now become good memories. I can't believe I am typing that. In the absolute lowest moments, we did the only thing we know to do and relied on God. And the moments passed in peace.

I didn't write about all of those moments. I didn't tell you, dear readers, about the time I thought we would be slaughtered in our beds. Or the time my mother went to the emergency room in critical condition, and I stood with my sisters in fervent prayer as tears drenched their faces ("Merry Christmas!"). Or the time I thought I lost my only two friends forever. Or all the other times.

It has been, without a doubt, an emotional roller coaster. I often felt tested and rarely passed, and yet God was with me through it all. I look back and laugh. Yes, I can laugh! How silly I was to doubt--even for those few hours--that God would care for us. Truly, five sparrows are sold for two copper coins, yet they are not forgotten before God.

So if we were sitting together over a steaming cup of tea, and you asked me if I would do this again, if you asked me whether I would give up my cozy Virginian life for the swamps of this tropical state, if you asked me whether it was worth it all to begin anew and feel so much confusion and pain, I would say, "Yes. Of course."

We didn't dedicate our life to God when we accepted the call to priesthood. We dedicated our lives to Him separately years before. Then we rededicated our lives to Him when we chose to form a family, to marry and serve before Him. And we showed Him again, in our feeble human way, our commitment to His will when we put aside our dreams of a bright future for the reality of a future set afire by His love. Fire burns. Boy, does it ever. But my life, I hope, is not known for stagnancy. I like to stick my heart in the immeasurable heat of the Divine Flame. Like a phoenix, I like to burn down to ashes and rise again in an explosion of color and feathers.

Batter my heart, three person'd God; for, you 
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend; 
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend 
Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new.

Inspired by Priest's wife's post last year, I now ask my daughter once a year the same questions (and new ones) to see how her answers change as she grows.

What is the best part of being a PK?
That I can go to church early if I want.

What is the hardest part of being a PK?
That I have to go to so many events--everything! Or most of the things.

Would you like to be married to a priest? Would you like to be a tasoni?
No. I don't know. (wiggles her finger) Why not? Um, I don't have answer to that.

Who's your favorite saint?
St. Demiana and St. Sophia

Do people look at you differently because you are a PK?
(shakes her head) No, no one treats me differently.

What's the strangest thing you've learned as Abouna's kid?
I learned that every single Abouna has a beard!

What's your favorite church time (feast, season)?
Holy Week. And I mean it. Because we sing my favorite song which is "Thok Ta Ti Gom." It's so hard to remember (laughs).

Do the kids at school notice that your father is different?
Yes. That's a big yes. They ask me lots of questions.

How do you feel about your dad wearing black?
I feel fine. Awesome! Cool. It doesn't really matter.

What's your favorite thing about your dad?
That we go to huge conventions together, like the priest family convention. Because family conventions mean lots more kids to play with.

What's your favorite thing about your mom?
That she's Tasoni. Because tasonis are cool.



Notice that tasonis are cool, but she still doesn't want to be one ;). I should note that she was the one who reminded me that it was time for this interview, and she took the process very seriously.

Two weeks into kindergarten, I made my daughter get her first tardy. We woke up on time, we got dressed on time, we got into the car on time. And then I realized there was no gas in the tank. In order to make the trek to school, we would need to fill'er up. I went to the gas station, filled exactly three gallons, and hopped back in the car, racing to get a spot on the highway. It took three minutes to fill gas total.

Those three minutes put us in a dismal spot on the highway. I could already tell the final outcome would depend on one pesky traffic light a block away from school. As we drove, my daughter and I talked about how important it is to be on time and what the consequences of getting a tardy might mean. During the course of the conversation, I heard myself say, "Getting a tardy doesn't mean you're a terrible student... or a terrible mom."

Suddenly, I realized that internally I was making this tardy out to be yet another sign that I am a terrible mom, an official time-stamped slip. But no, getting this tardy meant nothing more than that the car needed gas. In the broader icon of my life (and hers) this tardy wouldn't even figure.

It ended up taking 12 more minutes than usual to get to school, making us late for drop off by one minute. We could literally see the last few people filter into the building as we raced across the parking lot. But as I stood in the office to sign her in, I was at peace.

This morning, we woke up with less than ten minutes left to get ready for school. "We will NOT get a tardy!" we proclaimed. We bolted all four out of our beds. She was dressed, laces tied, in four minutes, while lunch was packed. Hair done in two.  Out the door. Recycling by the curb.That's called teamwork, dedication. That's called God's mercy, an angel nudging us awake with exactly the minimum amount of time left to get this here morning started.

Getting that tardy had an unforeseen consequence. It galvanized us into a well-oiled morning machine! United for a common cause, we're unstoppable!

Ok, crawling back in bed now... I had a rough weekend. The Lord knows, I need some sleep.

At our house currently, my daughter and I read one chapter of the Bible and a chapter from a children's book every night before bedtime. For the last couple of weeks, she has insisted we read a random chapter of the Bible of her choice. While this has a lot of downsides, it has one upside for me in that I am exposed to completely different parts of the Bible and often to books I don't usually read. But as an overall policy, I explained to her that chapters of books need to be taken as they were written to make sense of the story.

Last night was her first bedtime with her father on this routine. Abouna and I emphasized this point again: We should pick a book and stick with it. But my daughter insisted.

She chose 1 Maccabees 16, and her father laughed.

"This doesn't make sense! You can't start a story from the middle. Look... if I read, 'Then John raised an army...,' what John am I talking about?!"

"John the Baptist!"

"No... not John the Baptist."

"I know, I know! John the Beloved."

"To be honest, these are both excellent answers," he said with a chuckle, "But this is John the Maccabee!"

He took a deep breath, then continued. "And if I read here, 'And Simon said to John'--"

"--Simon Peter!"

"No! This is Simon, John the Maccabee's father!"

And we all collapse into fits of laughter. "I can't do this," Abouna said, "It just doesn't work. We have to pick a book and focus on it."

After we read the chapter in the book of the Bible they chose together, it was time for a chapter from a children's book. She and I usually read from the Junie B. Jones series, seeing how they're both in Kindergarten.

Her father: "Today, I am going to tell you MY story about Junie B. Jones! Junie B. Jones visits the Coptic Church!"

Now I could tell you the entire amazing first half of Junie B. Jones visits the Coptic Church verbally created on the fly last night, but since my daughter wants to write it all out for her dad and publish it... Let me just give you a taste.

For example, when Junie B. gets out of the car and sees the church doors open, she gets very anxious and starts to shout: "The church is on fire! The church is on fire! Look at all that smoke!"

And you should really hear what she does instead of a metanoia (prostration)!

Although he can't often be there for bedtime, Abouna takes bedtime to a whole different level! Junie B. Jones visits the Coptic Church... Can you imagine?

For those readers who are not Coptic, you might not know that there's a big "anti-secular music" push in the Coptic church. Certainly, if you decide to derive your morals from Tyler the Creator, you're not going to be doing too well in a Christian environment. But I am not a big fan of Western Protestant worship music (Please put the rocks down. It's not that serious, y'all. You can like it all you want, no big deal.), and there aren't too many quality, original Coptic Orthodox spiritual songs in English (Some of us are working on it.).

I'm a student of English literature, and I believe that well-written lyrics can be just as valuable as classic poetry. The best lyric poetry is about describing the human experience.

Recently, my baby sister reminded me of Green Day's "Boulevard of Broken Dreams." (I am not going to tackle Green Day as a group, or punk rock as a genre, or marijuana, or whatever platform you expect me to take. I'm going to talk about the lyrics of THIS song and only this song.). This song is fantastic for teen angst or Tasoni drama or whatever ails you. Here's where Coptic Mom Ruins the Song (I wish I could start another blog all about my over-analysis of modern lyrics).

I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone

I walk this empty street
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams
When the city sleeps
And I'm the only one and I walk alone

I walk alone
I walk alone...

Who hasn't felt that way? Who hasn't felt alone and stuck? Who hasn't felt like his/her plans fell apart and dreams were crushed?

I'll tell you who has: David the King and Prophet.

How long, O LORD? Will You forget me forever? 
How long will You hide Your face from me? 
How long shall I take counsel in my soul, 
Having sorrow in my heart daily? 
How long will my enemy be exalted over me? 
(Psalm 13:1-2)

Was King David ever alone? Was he ever forgotten by God? Of course not. God never forgot him. God never left his side. But David was human and felt alone. I don't know how long he was on the run from Saul, but maybe he would've put a little "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" in his earbuds at night as he contemplated his lonely road.

The refrain of the song begins with "My shadow's the only one that walks beside me / My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating." I can't sing those lines without thinking of an Arabic children's spiritual song called (3andy 7ekaya -- "I Have a Story"). Abouna and I recently admitted to each other that the song gave us the heebie-jeebies as little kids. It's a beautiful song, but the first verse is like a horror movie to a five-year-old. This is a literal translation:

Walking in the dark one of these nights
The deceiver came to make friends with me.
He tried to tell me, "You're walking all alone,
And in the darkness you're frightened.
Quick! Give me your hand"
I told him, "Go away! I am not alone!
Jesus is holding my hand,
and He died for me!"

Can you imagine being five and thinking about a demon coming in the night to take your hand? Yeah. Not a happy thought. What can I say though? The devil still comes in times of darkness to draw us away from our Savior. He tells us we walk alone.

"Boulevard of Broken Dreams" is actually a sorrowful prayer, a cry for help. The second half of the refrain states, "Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me." The speaker wants to be found. "How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?"

The human condition makes us feel alone down here. The devil helps things along by claiming that we have been abandoned. But God is always there. Your shadow isn't the only thing that walks beside you. The angels are too. And Christ Himself holds your hand. Now, who's going to go tell Billie Joe Armstrong that?

Marriage is hard. I never understood what people meant by that when I was single. I took it to mean it was a pain in the butt and not worth the trouble and so balked at the phrase. Even now it makes me uncomfortable to say it for that very reason. What if you, dear reader, misunderstand and think it means "Run!"

So I'll start instead by saying riding a bicycle is hard. The first time my father took the training wheels off, I shook in terror and excitement. He held on to the back as I pedaled increasingly fast until he shouted teasingly, "Hey! I let go!" I immediately panicked and crashed and scraped my knee. And every bit of that--even scraping my knee--is one of the fondest memories I have.

That is marriage. Some of us have rockier starts than others, but every bit of it--including scraping your knee--is absolutely worth it.

Some people quit so early. A year or two years in they say, "Enough of this nonsense!" Ironically, marriage is like wine, or... like the stock market. If you quit early, you will lose. You will think you saved yourself, but, unfortunately, you will just never know the millions you could have cashed in later. You'll never know the sweetness that comes with time.

"But my wife/husband is terrible!" Oh, please. Unless he's beating you or cheating on you, take a deep breath. You are far from perfect, cupcake. Some of the kinds of things that have broken up marriages are to me beyond laughable. A marriage isn't a friendship. Enough of this jumping in, jumping out nonsense.

A marriage is a trust. You trust someone else to hold your soul. You open up to someone 100%. They know you like no one else. They hear your farts at night and like it. I can't imagine what divorce does to a person's psyche. To have the person you entrusted your soul to hand your soul back and say, "Ew" and "Uh, no thanks. Your soul is just too ugly for me. I deserve better."

You deserve? Since when? Since when do human beings deserve anything? From dust we were formed and to dust we will return. Don't waste that time on this petty thought that you deserve something.

Marry well. And then let God work. Over years. Like a glacier. Carve each other's souls into shapes acceptable to Christ. And by God, I hope it hurts. I hope you scrape your knee and cry a little and hug each other in the darkness and remember that it's all so worth it. And then cash in in eternity.

I heard a woman talk about her marriage once. She said both her parents and his thought it wouldn't work out. That the marriage wouldn't last. "They were right," she said with a sly smile, "It didn't last very long. After 35 years of marriage, he passed away and left me." Cash in, people. Cash in... At the right time. With the last breath.