The Red Plate Blessing

Someday, when my brain is working again, and I can write again, I'd like to write about how Generations X and Y are embracing ritual and tradition as they raise their families. I have a long list of ideas I hope to incorporate with my own family.

In a few short weeks--after I return from China--I will be moving in with an amazing family in Ohio. It'll be an adjustment going from a nice-sized home of my own to a room in the home of a family of five. I've been blessed to spend several weeks with this family over the past few months, and though I'm sure there will be adjustments for all of us, I am really looking forward to living with a family, with all the joy and chaos that comes with it.

This family is part of the community to which God has led me in Canton, Ohio. One of the things I most appreciate about this group is their own sense of ritual and tradition. Today, this community is having a blessing ceremony for my host family's oldest child. It's a time of affirming celebrating the person being blessed. This is my blessing for T.

The Red Plate Blessing
for T., on the occasion of his tenth birthday

For most of my adult life, I’ve observed the character and traditions of those I admired and looked to as models. Older women to demonstrate the woman I want to be, couples whose marriages grow stronger even through the seasons of struggle, families who create rituals and traditions to commemorate a collective history of celebrating everyday life.

A few years ago, I heard of the Red Plate tradition. Typically, it’s a red plate with the white words, “You are special today.” The plate is used to celebrate birthdays, awards, good grades, championships, acts of kindness, accomplishments and any event worth noting. At the end of the meal, the act is written on the back of the plate as a way of memorializing it. Other Red Plate rituals include the recipient choosing the evening meal and leading the family prayer.

T., because we are brother and sister in the family of God, I wanted to do something unique to celebrate our Father in this tradition, so I used the words, “You are blessed today.”

And T., as you turn ten years old, you are blessed, and very much loved. I am thrilled to come to live with you and your family. I’m looking forward to watching you grow into a godly young man. I can already see how you are choosing to live your life in a way that makes God smile. When I wasn’t feeling well after the car accident, you volunteered to help me by getting my things from downstairs, bringing me water, taking my plates after meals, and asking me what else you could do to help me or make me more comfortable. I saw Jesus in you. And I know He was smiling.

My blessing for you as you turn ten is to give you a Red Plate and commission you to start this tradition with your family, with your friends, and with us, your church community. Actively look for reasons to celebrate the good around you. As a big brother, recognize when A. or K. are good or helpful. As a son, be kind to your parents, and let them know what you appreciate and love about them. With your friends, be the first to cheer, first to apologize, and first to love. With your church family, help us discover the things we have in common, seek to learn what you can learn from us, and show us what we can learn from you. You are loved. You are special. You are blessed.

Much love,
Jen

I'd love to hear from others what traditions and rituals you've incorporated to celebrate life.

Holy Hospitality

I've been back from Ohio about a week now. The last night I was there, I again visited the Tuesday night group. The agenda for that night was a presentation of a new "church-within-a-church" plant. The core elements of the new church include an emphasis on hospitality, service, community and creativity. For those of you who have followed my blog for awhile, you'll understand my enthusiasm for this new endeavor. I didn't have any intentions of moving to Ohio when I visited, but last Tuesday, I sensed God finally direct my next steps.

I've spent some time this past week talking to friends, praying and seeking counsel. There are a million logistical things to work out--namely, selling my house and figuring out where to live. I've been in GR for seven years and it was been my home, but as one friend said, "God has been pulling the tent pegs for you for months. I have a peace about releasing you to Canton."

Ironically, before the message at church this weekend, there was a commissioning for several church members embarking on a new church plant. Again, the word release was used as we blessed those involved in the new church.

I met a girl in Canton who is buying a home and looking for housemates. I've lived on my own for 12 of the last 15 years. I know this isn't good for me. I yearn to share my life with others. I'm excited about the possibilities. Post-head injury, I'm a new person with new priorities. I need relationships more than I did. Or maybe, I just realize my need more now without that pesky self-reliance and independence in the way. My health has taken a dip again. I haven't been able to work for two months now. It's scary, but I sense God's presence more closely now that I have in months. I'm seeing my neurologist next week. This last headache has lasted about a month now, at times so painful I can't see. All the more reason to have others around me. On good days, I've been having friends over--to talk, or more often, to play Catan. I want to cultivate more of a heart of hospitality. I haven't had many dinner parties since my head injury. I want to start again. When I told my mom about my hope to buy a big, cheap house in Canton at some point, she reminded me that one of the happiest times in my life was when I shared a modest house with three other women. We had game nights, movie nights, theme parties, football parties, late night talks and many, many meals. I miss those days. I look forward to sharing them again with my new friends.

At church on Saturday, our pastor started a new series, Holy Hospitality. I think maybe God is lighting the road ahead.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I'm writing this post from the home of some friends in Ohio. This past Tuesday morning was the day I had been dreading for over a year. My best friends, the family down the street, left for their new home on the other side of the world. The thought of driving back to our neighborhood after seeing them off at the airport was more than I could take, so I was very grateful for the opportunity to head out of town for a few days.

A few weeks ago, the message at my church was about how sometimes, when we pursue God's will, things get worse. I've often said that I'm not afraid to do the hard thing, so long as I know it's the right thing. The challenge of this particular season of my life is not simply that change is here, whether I want it or not, but I don't know what I'm to do next. With the challenges of my health, I've finally accepted the reality that I am unable to do the work I've done for the last ten years. However, I don't yet know what I can do well. I know I can no longer afford to live in the home I love, but I don't yet know where I will live next. I know that it is not in my best interest--physically, emotionally or spiritually--to live alone, but I don't know yet with whom I will live. I feel as though the road I have been traveling has come to an end. There's no fork, no narrower path. Just emptiness ahead. And I wonder if somewhere along the way I got lost, or if this is the next step of learning to trust God. I'm seeking that pillar of fire or clouds to lead me. Someone once said that when you are unsure of your direction, to go back to the last place you felt confident of your route. For me, that place is here in Ohio.

The last few days have been restful and have brought so much peace to my heart, even in the midst of the unknown. Being away from home is giving me clarity to see what I'm missing and to define what I really need. I'm enjoying the conversations I'm having as I reconnect and deepen relationships with friends here. I'm grateful for this oasis in Ohio.