Luke 6:31 "Do to others as you would have them do to you."

On Monday evening, there was a near brawl in the street in front of my house. Several neighbors were in the road screaming at each other as cars full of people pulled up and got out to get involved. It culminated in someone almost backing over someone else's child, one lady threatening another with a knife, and a kid pointing his BB gun at a group of girls. I got to watch all of this unfold because they had blocked me into my driveway. So instead of making my way to Nehemiah's for my shift, I got to stand next to my car watching these people I only vaguely knew threaten each other, wondering at what point I needed to call the police. But as quickly as it began, it ended. Someone yelled some final words, mumbled about the fact that I would probably call the cops, and everyone dispersed.

Last night, some of those same ladies filled my dining room as we joked, laughed and got the chance to know one another. We shared a meal, swapped stories, and the two main instigators of the fight Monday night showed up together, not a single ounce of animosity remaining.

I'm learning a lot this year.

I don't want to make it seem like I am this grand martyr for living where I live. I moved there because a friend of mine had a house for rent, it was near the church, and I could (just barely) afford it. It's a very different neighborhood than what I'm used to, and I'm surrounded by a different demographic than I encounter in my everyday life. I work in a predominantly white area of town. The people that live out there are comfortably middle class and above. If people started screaming at each other in the middle of the road in Clear Creek, you best believe cops would be called.

Where I live, most of my neighbors are lower-income, many of them single-parent households. Some are on disability, some work all hours of the day. Some just moved to town, some have lived in Tuscaloosa all of their lives. And I'll just say it flat out - most of them are black.

Tuscaloosa has a long history of racial tension and flat out violence. It's shameful, it's wrong, and it's still something our town is dealing with on a daily basis. In an ideal world, that history and being immersed in it everyday wouldn't shade my personal views. I've lived my life with the intention of never making assumptions about someone based on their race, gender, class, sexual orientation...you get the picture. I intend for my views of people to be based on my direct interactions with them and their character. But we don't live in bubbles. Hearing racist remarks, seeing how people are treated differently is going to affect you.

I say all of this to say that when I moved into my house, I didn't know what the heck I was getting myself into. I didn't realize that I had let so many years surrounded by casual racism color my views. I was nervous when my neighbor was walking down the street late at night. I wasn't sure what to expect when I saw a car full of guys just idling outside my neighbor's house. And I reacted with serious terror when I had that red laser incident a few weeks back. Would I have reacted that way if it happened in my old house? Honestly, it's impossible to say, but I can venture a guess. 

So instead of accepting that I had let society color my views in a racist manner, I decided to do something about it. Or rather, God decided to do something about it. See, I genuinely believe that God placed me where I am today. I spent so many months stressing about where I would live this year and then two weeks before I had to be out of the old house, this opportunity presented itself. When I didn't think I could afford it, God provided a way. And as I prepared to move, I could feel God calling me to reach out to my neighborhood. Not in a superficial way. In a way that pours out His love. Not as the little white girl that moved into the neighborhood, but as the woman of God who recognizes that everyone is called to be a part of His kingdom. It doesn't matter what color you are, how much money you make, how much time you spend walking up and down the street, or what you choose to spend your money on. We are all His children. And I think somewhere along the way it's really easy to forget that.

I'm sure a lot of my neighbors laugh at me. When I see any of them outside, I wave and greet them with a big grin. If I don't know them, it doesn't matter. I can either be afraid of the unknown or turn them into friends. I have to consistently, consciously choose the latter. In doing so, I've come to realize that the cultural differences don't matter. More importantly, they don't exist just because I'm white and they're black. They exist because of the manner in which we all grew up. When my neighbors that had been screaming at each other Monday night walked into my house arm in arm last night, I about hit the floor. But I've come to realize that everyone resolves their issues differently. For them, screaming in the street satisfied whatever need they had. While it may be a misguided way to handle anger, it didn't happen because they were black. And not every black person handles their anger that way. It's when we make these sweeping generalizations that we get in trouble.

So what is the point of this post? Because it sure is getting long. As part of my intentional outreach to my neighbors, I hosted a potluck at my house last night. I normally host a bible study on Thursday nights, so myself, the girls in my study, along with some other friends and another Forest Lake bible study group got together to provide food and community for those that live around me. I printed out flyers and Maleea and I walked around to the eight or so houses closest to mine. It was terrifying, I got some strange looks, but in the end I was so grateful to God for the courage to open myself and my home up to those around me.

And you know what? God is SO good. Not only did my friends fill my house with their warmth and love and of course some seriously delicious food, but some of my neighbors actually showed up! Three different households came, including some that I hadn't actually gotten to meet in person. We talked about work, families, pets, the neighborhood, and everything in between. One of the ladies' granddaughters played Yahtzee with my friends, while I got to bond with a neighbor's daughter over coffee and school projects. We all came together to get to know one another. And they all left with smiles on their faces and the promise to do this again. And I genuinely believe we will. One of the ladies said no one has ever done that, just invite everyone to come together. So it's encouraging that they want it. I want to love the people around me. I'm really good at doing that with food. My friends are really good at doing that with conversation. So if we keep pushing, keep striving to build this community, it's going to happen. And that's a really beautiful thing.

I obviously still have a long road ahead of me. Our town has a VERY long road ahead of it. But I'll continue to give God the glory and authority in my life. But I really believe that if we submit to Him, He will keep us in the center of His will. And my life has never made more sense than when I let go and let Him have control. I will continue to fail, I will continue to try to take control again, but He's got me. He's patient with me, even when I'm not patient with myself. And with His help, I will break down barriers and build up a loving community in my tiny piece of town.

(Oh, and the title? Yeah. I started googling my house number in bible verses and Luke 6:31 is just ridiculously appropriate.)

Yesterday I gave an apple to a homeless man and honestly, it wrecked me.

I was hurrying from work to try to get to Lifeway before I had to be at my shift at Nehemiah's, when I stopped at the red light at 459 & McFarland. I had my windows down, but as I approached the intersection, I noticed a homeless man, so I rolled it up. But when I saw his sign, which simply said "HOMELESS HUNGRY", I realized I still had an apple in my lunch bag. So I rolled my window down and gave it to him. He thanked me, then turned around, rubbed it on his dirty sleeve, and squatted down to start eating it.

The sheer gratitude on his face, for such a simple act, wrecked me. I was overwhelmed by my emotions, by the fact that such a simple act could mean so much to someone, that I was shaking and I couldn't breathe. I have a very "New York" knee-jerk reaction to the homeless, or anyone trying to hand me a flyer for a "free comedy show". Eyes forward, no interaction, ignore their requests. It was sort of drilled into me in my time in the city, and as a young female, society has forced me to be cautious about strangers I interact with. So when I am asked for money, I say no. Even the poor directv guys at Sam's Club have felt the weight of my non-acknowledging cold shoulder. I don't want your flyers, or your tv service, and I'm not going to give you money.

But yesterday I was overwhelmed by the fact that maybe it's time to open up. It's time to stop dehumanizing others. There are going to be people who take advantage of your charity. There are going to be people in this world who are actually trying to harm you. And there are going to be some truly terrible comedy shows. But using a few bad experiences to entirely write off a group of people? To refrain from giving to someone who is truly in need because I don't approve of how they are going to use my gift? That's unacceptable. Maybe the guy on the corner is going to use my money for beer. Maybe his wife isn't ill, maybe he has food at home, maybe his car didn't really break down.

But what if she is? What if he doesn't? What if it did? If I were in that situation, if I were so lost, so broken, so helpless, that I had to stand on the side of the road with a cardboard sign, I would want help. I would want prayer. And I would want that skeptical girl to give me a chance, roll down the window, and give me an apple.

I think the thing that wrecked me the most about my encounter yesterday was the sheer gravity of it all; I can't help everyone. There are so many people in need in this world, and even just in our own city, and I can't help them all. There's very little I can do for any of them, really. And I look at my own life, and the opportunities I've been afforded, and the chances people have taken on me, and I have to do SOMETHING. I don't know what, I don't know how, but I pray that God won't let me easily forget how I felt yesterday. That He will use this yearning in me to make a difference and to reach out to the lost and the broken. I pray for the courage to use the gifts He's given me to brighten their worlds. Jesus came to be a light to this world, to heal the brokenness. As a Christian, I'm called to share his light with the world. And I just pray He gives me the guts to do it.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.

Tonight is the first night I was made to feel unsafe in my own home. And I'm angry, and unsettled, and the only way I can work through it is to write. So here we are.

Someone shined a red laser through my front windows tonight. They tracked me and Rebecca in my house with it, and when I got down on the floor they shined it through the other front window on me. It was terrifying, because I had no idea what it was or who was doing it. I moved to the back of the house, but when I came back up front they started again. I called the police, who said if it happened again they would start knocking on doors waking people up to figure out who did it.

It's very possible it was just one of the neighbor kids messing around with a toy laser. It's possible someone was just trying to be funny. But it's not okay that I had to feel that fear. That I had to feel powerless in my own home.

I'm going to do what I need to do to feel safe here; different locks, heavier curtains so people can't see in so easily, etc. But the realization of how easy it is for someone to hurt me has shaken me a good bit tonight.

There are several things about this neighborhood that are different from places I've lived in the past. For the most part, I'm surrounded by low income families. Mostly single parents, with a lot of kids that have less supervision than they should. But until tonight, I've felt welcome. And I've felt safe. I've made an effort to meet my neighbors, to let them know who I am, and that all I want to do is get to know them and love on them. And this incident reinforces my desire to really get to know them. So I know when there are people around who shouldn't be. So I know who to feel comfortable around.

Maybe I overreacted. Maybe I should have just ripped the front door open and started yelling. But I was scared. Really scared. How do I know someone isn't outside my home that wants to harm me?

I don't know what I'm really supposed to take away from this evening. I've been outside since, and I really do generally feel safe here. I like my neighbors, and I feel like God can use me in this place. As I laid on the floor waiting for the cops to show up, I prayed with my mom on the phone. For God's protection, for the removal of evil from around this house. And really, that's the thing that's keeping me here and keeping me sane tonight. I'm not going to let someone scare me out of my own home. I'm not going to let someone scare me away from sharing God's love with the people around me. This is my home now, too. And I deserve to feel safe and loved and protected.

When did I get so bad at being alone?

First, learn how to make yourself happy.

Not too long ago, I wrote on Fat Gal Fitness about finally loving my body and everything it can do. That was a huge step for me. I've always hated it and felt like it betrayed me, so to finally love it for exactly what it is was like becoming a whole new person.

Loving my body means when I get dressed, I like what I see. I like the way my clothes fit, I like how much I can lift, and really and truly, if I never lost another pound it would be okay. I love my body, whatever weight it may be.

Well, this weekend, something really interesting happened. I started to love the person I am. Not just my body, not what it can do, but me. My personality, my traits, my habits, my interests, all of these things that make me uniquely me. I've had to accept that I don't have a green thumb, I love nature, but not quite as much as I sometimes wish I did, I love dogs but I can't handle the responsibility right now, and while my degree is in fashion design, I don't intend to use it at all right now. For a long time, or pretty much for always, all of those things bothered me. I talk too much, I share too much, I have anxiety about really stupid things. But without those habits, I wouldn't be who I am. And who I am, right now, right at this moment, is pretty damn awesome. For the first time in my life, I genuinely feel like I have something to offer. Yeah, I talk too much, but it allows me to meet people I may have never had the courage to talk to in the past. I overshare, but that also means that I don't have secrets to try to keep up with. I'm not gung-ho to trek out into the middle of the woods to camp and dig a toilet, but I love the chance to get out into nature for the day and truly enjoy God's creation.

What I'm getting at is that even though I'm not the person I expected myself to be, I'm exactly the person I'm supposed to be. I'm awkward, hilarious, ridiculous and I love the people in my life to a seriously fierce degree. I collect interests like they are going out of style, but that means I can learn something from everyone I encounter.

Obviously, if you know me, you know my love life....haha well, it doesn't exist. And honestly, I never thought I had anything to offer. I could hide behind saying boys didn't like me but really, I didn't like myself. What on earth does a fat, awkward sad sack have to offer someone? But I'm quickly realizing that the person I am right now is really freaking awesome. She's learning to love who she is, flaws and all. And I'm not worth loving just because I'm losing weight. I'm worth it because my heart and soul are finally parts of me I'm proud of. I'm not afraid to put myself out there and be stupid and loud and get intensely passionate about stuff. Sometimes I'll be wrong, and sometimes I'll fail, but as long as I keep loving who I am and who I'm becoming, everything will be okay.

So half of you are like duh, Theresa. Stop being so stupid. But every step I take towards confidence and love is a step away from all of the crap that has held me down for years. And I don't plan to ever look back.

Do you remember when you were young and you wanted to set the world on fire?

I've been listening to Against Me! since middle school. My brother's friend Brian was living with us at the time and I thought he and Chris were the coolest people on the planet. My brother has always sort of been my idol; he's cool and kind and a kick ass drummer and he seems to just rock life. They listened to a lot of stuff that was a little too intense for me, but Against Me! just got me. Tom Gabel was angry and yell-y, but the music cut right through all of my teenage angst. When Brian was living with us, they would listen to Against Me! all the time and I would join them, desperate to fit in and to listen to this band that made me feel SO cool when everything else about me was SO awkward.

My love for them has never really left. Against Me! is my angry driving music, it's good workout music, it's the kind of thing I can yell along to and forget any crap trying to bring me down. Long and short, I've loved this band for a really long time. I've never gone to a show because their pits are a little TOO intense for me. And by a little, I mean a lot. BUT they are playing at Workplay tonight, which has a lovely balcony area for me to not be in with all the moshing punching kids.

So why does this matter? Well, you see, I have confidence issues. Shocker, right? Anyway. Part of this whole lifestyle change yada yada has been increasing my confidence and realizing that no one is judging me as harshly as I'm judging myself. When I went to the Frank Turner show, I actually had to circle the venue twice before I parked because I was so afraid all these punk kids would look at me and be like, she doesn't belong here. I KNOW how ridiculous that is. Trust me. But it's rooted very deep inside me and it's going to take a long time to resolve. So while the thought of the show tonight excites me a great deal, I also have this nagging terror that I'm going to show up in my little sweater and boots and get mocked by the punk kids.

But it's time to let that go. I'm not some fairweather fan, I'm not someone who has never heard of them. I don't have to wear all black, have a ripped up leather jacket, or hair that looks like I haven't washed it in days. Against Me! has been a part of my life for a long time. But even if they hadn't, so what? So what if I was just some girl who thought hey, cheap concert, I think I'll go? No one is going to judge me, or ask me why I'm qualified to come to a punk show. And I need to carry that through other aspects of my life; no one is going to think hey, that girl doesn't belong in the gym. She shouldn't be wearing those pants. What is she thinking trying to ski (more on that later)? We assume the entire world is out to tell us just how much we suck and how unworthy we are of all the things in our life. But they really, really aren't. They're trying to enjoy the show, lift the weights, and make it down the ski slope exactly the same way we are.

We can only hope to do a little better than our parents did. To be a little happier, less cynical. To resent our partners a little less, love our occupations a little more. Figure out a decent work-life balance, follow our hearts wherever they may go. Don't get us wrong; we owe who we are, for better or for worse, to our parents. But we don't want to be them. We may want to emulate some attributes, like kindness to strangers and a willingness to give and give, then give some more. We want to laugh like they do, age gracefully like they have, and appreciate the spirit of nature and everything the woods can teach us.

But we hope to do better. Respect the earth a little more, realize the impact our purchases and decisions make on the world. We want to make a difference; we want to destroy the corrupt politics in favor of an honest, open system. We may not succeed, but we can hope. Just like they hoped when they were our age. For no more wars and bringing our brothers sisters mothers fathers home. For news headlines that don't always start with a count of people killed and wounded.

We hope to leave different impressions on our children. To realize the impact our words and actions have on them. The lasting damage remarks about weight will leave. The unhealthy relationships created by cutting remarks about looks, food, diets. We want to show our children they can do anything, be anything. Being fat isn't the worst thing they could be; and it also isn't something they have to be. We want to teach our children that food is fuel. It is important, but so is exercise. So is loving the outdoors and running around until you collapse in giddy exhaustion.

We want more. We can never repay our parents for everything they have done for us. They have shaped and transformed our worlds. They have created these crazy free thinkers, no longer afraid of what the world will think of them. Our generation is a product of their generation; had they not done what they did, we would not stand where we are today.

So we thank them, we respect them, and we learn from them. To one day show our utmost gratitude by building on, improving, revolutionizing everything they've done.