What does the Lord require of us?

Bin Laden is dead.

John Edwards' affair has been exposed. 

Casey Anthony is fighting for her life in court. 

And Nancy Grace keeps talking louder and faster and we all look on, glad for scapegoats.

As long as we can call them monsters and label them as evil, we don't have to look inside and face the darkness of our own hearts. As long as we can talk about how awful their deeds are, we feel safe from eyes that might see the hateful, disloyal, and selfish thoughts in our own heads.

And, while a judicial system is in place that responds to death with death, degeneration will continue. In sanctioning violence done in a socially acceptable manner, we create a society in which violence and death are permissible if deemed necessary. 

"Necessary" to a street kid means jumping someone who verbally slighted their cousin.

"Necessary" to a drug dealer means shooting the enforcement officer who is the opposition in the game of making a quick dollar.

"Necessary" to Bin Laden's family and sympathizers might be retaliation.

Is any of it necessary? All this continued pain, fear, and hatred in search an elusive idea called "justice"?

How is justice served in this old, broken model? Is any unity restored to the families and communities affected? Is any healing brought to the victims? Is any chance of change offered the offenders?

In the present judicial system, crimes are seen as offences against the state, the breaking of intangible things called laws... rather than a wounding of the community. The victims have no voice for their devastation. The offender has no opportunity to face the people his actions hurt and no avenue toward righting their wrongs. Instead, he is removed from the community, reinforcing the isolation, anger, and hurt that most likely contributed to the offence.

And it isn't working. Take a look at these numbers from the Bureau of Justice Statistics:

The rearrest rate for property offenders, drug offenders, and public-order offenders increased significantly from 1983 to 1994. During that time, the rearrest rate increased:


- from 68.1% to 73.8% for property offenders

- from 50.4% to 66.7% for drug offenders

- from 54.6% to 62.2% for public-order offenders

What does the Lord require of us?

Maybe change will be conceived when we can look at offenders and see someone just like ourselves.

Next time... the story of my introduction to resorative justice.

What Dryers and Vacation Have in Common

Inside the door of the dryer at work is a fabulous sticker. "Dryer must be exhausted outdoors." Of course it it referring to the hose disappearing into the wall, but a great mental picture of the dryer running a mile on metal legs under a blazing sun makes me snort with laughter every time I heave wet clothes into its cavernous mouth.

People have been asking me why I stopped blogging. The answer is this: I was in a funk. This sort of funk felt a little bit cozy. Just quietly feeling and living without any words to put to it. It also felt a mite exhausted and in need of being, like the dryer, exhausted outdoors.

A reunion of the Fab Five cured me.

Huge changes have charged at us at a dizzying speed since we were celebrating sweet sixteen, but our friendship has been a grounding constant. Just BEING together is refreshing, but being together in Ocean City was idyllic. Since Julie's wee wittle one just arrived, she opted out... but we stopped and saw her anyhow. :)

Upon arriving at our motel, we immediately unpacked and otherwise got organized. True sign we might be grown up. Janelle's darling Katie, with her smiles and bottles and diapers, was another good indication.

That's me with Janelle and Katie at Dumser's restaurant. If you're ever in Ocean City, go directly to Dumser's and order an orange ice cream soda. You can thank me later.

We discussed everything from abortion to how cool gummy monkeys look when held up against the sun and blue sky while lying on the beach. (Alright, that was mostly me. Bessie just laughed at me and kept writing her husband's name in the sand.)

We adventured about town, ate so well that my gut actually protruded a little by the end, and did some serious relaxing on the beach and boardwalk. As someone said, it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun if we lived like that all the time. But we're a pretty ambitious lot and, as a result, enjoyed it immensely.

With three vacation days and one shift being the campus gopher... a few hours on Shelter, then a few on the boys' unit while they woke up, then back to Shelter because their male staff was very unused to girls who are freaking out because of tiny bug bites on their arms and "not having ANYTHING to wear!!" (yes, teen girls are pretty much universally the same), then to another unit to do med pass because they didn't have any med-trained staff on the unit... I wasn't on "my" unit for four days. They were as glad to see me as I was them. My 17-year-old yelled, "Becky! I missed you so freakin' much!" and hugged me. Twice.

In the dull roar of a unit of 13 girls, four of whom are new and needed extra attention to get through the morning, two of my 13-year-olds were not doing their chores. My reminder was met with some attitude from D. I was like, "what's with you?" and she said, "Well, you been gone for so long!" Accusation and vulnerability interchanged in her tone and I realized she needed some reassurance.

"I know. And I missed you guys!"

P. interrupted with, "D., why you talking like that to Becky? It's BECKY."

D. waved her off. "You don't understand. Becky LOVE me, like."
"I sure do! Very much." I replied.

And that must have been what she needed to hear because she jumped off the table where she'd been sitting and proceeded to have an incredible morning... as responsible and respectful as you please.

It's so good to have energy for this again!

opening shop!

My etsy shop is up and running! I have more projects that are nearing completion and should be posted soon, so check back... Also, if you want prints of art pieces that are listed as originals (or vice versa), let me know! 

Here are two new additions:

This is all so vulnerable and exciting...

the joys of spray paint and of sisters

This is the story of a lamp. After having no luck finding a lamp at the thrift stores I haunt, I bought a rather ugly one at Big Lots for $15. Seriously, it was so ugly that I didn't even take a picture of it. But the shape was partially interesting and I thought that, with a new shade and a few coats of spray paint, it would be fine. Then, a week later, I found this sweetie at Salvation Army.

The price? $3

I returned the ugly steplamp to Big Lots, very glad that I hadn't had time to tackle that project. Now I hope I learned that good things really do come to those who wait. :)

I'm infatuated with diversity in decor. Rustic with ornate and modern lines paired with more natural elements. After some primer and Painter's Touch spray paint in "paprika", here she is:

This is an end table beside the couch, and I wanted something that would match the red-orange in the artwork above the couch. 

And yes, the fat birds migrated from the coffee table to the end table.

This was another thrift store find. I loved the design, but the imitation milk glass had ugly gray hair lines through it. 

Spray paint means it won't be used for food again, but how cute will it be when filled with white peonies? For now, pussywillows suffice. :)

I used to use basic, neutral colors... I think spring has intoxicated me with bold accents of COLOR.

Those forsythias were a cool reminder that God really does care about "insignificant" details. I had wanted some, and Carla (without knowing I had) gave me a huge armful. You're a wonderful neighbor, Carla!

A week ago, I was with my darling sisters.

In fact, I got to spend time with all of them but Abby, my older sister. After spending two days giving swing rides, playing games, reading Tolkien aloud, going shopping, and making breakfasts (of which Kelsey, the youngest, said she had "many feedings") and curling up together on the couch to watch movies like "Horton Hears a Who"... I literally cried when I pulled out of the driveway and started the long trek home. The hardest part of growing up and following dreams is being apart from those you love most.

Good Friday reflections

Isaiah 53:4&5

Surely our griefs He Himself bore,
         And our sorrows He carried;
         Yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken,
         Smitten of God, and afflicted.
    But He was pierced through for our transgressions,
         He was crushed for our iniquities;
         The chastening for our well-being fell upon Him,
         And by His scourging we are healed. 

His wounds.

His Love.

We are healed.

We are known.

I'm a bit wordless. A bit overwhelmed. I really can't wrap my head or heart around the depth, patience, and ferocity of God's love for us all. 

Sometimes loving people takes a mad lot of emotional strength. Watching as they make choices that hurt themselves... being pushed away when they seem to want rejection instead of love... Loving even then hurts like lead clogging the bottom of your heart and drains you of emotional vibrance.

If my love is weak and imperfect in comparison to God's, how does He survive, loving every single person in the whole world so passionately?

He watches us sabotage ourselves, hurt ourselves and others, and settle for the cheap version of His good intentions. And still He stays engaged, returning even when we shun Him. 

I might have grasped a tiny corner of his strength. My heart is moved to trust and adoration.

worth waiting for

Spring! Finally!

And it is so immensely worth waiting for.

I can hardly sleep these days. But it's not because of the office chair rolling around on the other side of my ceiling. I've been in Majorly Creative Mode, and my head goes right on creating when the rest of me tries to sleep. It's not a curse, really. Ideas turn into things like this:

These pins are made from an antique, handmade lace doily. I'm opening a shop on Etsy within the next week or two, and you'll be able to buy these and other upcycled goodies there, as well as prints of some of my artwork. I'm excited... hope you find the shop worth waiting for. :) 

Curls and Kindness

"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted." -Aesop "The Lion and the Mouse"

I found this picture in the deep, dark archives of the past few years. I think Kelsey was two years old. Carol was lying on the couch with a headache, so Kelsey was "reading" to her. I came upon them and am glad I had a camera within reach. Those chubby little hands and curls just melt me.

Add a little sweetness to someone's day...