mandy inchaustegui

“It’s the Mayan Club, Mom, but it’s the people that make it a church.”

This comment came out of the blue from Xander a few weeks ago as we were driving up to church. When we moved to LA five years ago, he was a year and a half. He has grown up going to church on Sunday nights at the Mayan. It might have seemed crazy, and not altogether safe at times, to take our kids to the club but I knew that they were getting experiences that would shape their worldview in a way that I thought was pretty important.

Because of our time at the Mayan, Xander has witnessed the power of the arts to communicate truth. He’s watched incredible dancers and artists tell stories through their crafts, asking questions, understanding that there is more to what they are doing than just dancing or painting. He had the opportunity to invite others to participate in a backpack drive, learning that we can do so much more together than we can do on our own. He has learned that not everyone dresses or looks the same and that everyone, no matter what, is a valuable person, loved by God. He has been loved on by so many of our friends at the Mayan as people have watched the boys so Anthony and I could serve with Celebrate Recovery, understanding the value of community as we all live life together.

I am so grateful for the way our time at the Mayan has shaped our kids. Xander had his first big boy potty experience there. It’s where Elijah learned to climb stairs. I’ve had to avoid fully explaining the naughty pictures down in the green room and that lamp by the back bar of the topless lady that is conveniently the exact height of a two year old. They have been “conversation starters” for me with so many people, usually who are there by themselves, maybe not having anyone else to talk to. I could have done without the several times we have lost one of them in the sea of people in downtown LA or Xander almost running out in front of a bus. But other than that, it’s been incredible for our family.

Last night was the last time my boys will be in that building for a very (very!) long time. Driving home, I was a bit nostalgic and crying. We talked about why we wouldn’t be going back there and what we are looking forward to in the future. We talked about how it’s not the building that makes a church or the people that make a building a church. The people ARE the church. We talked about what the church is and who we are to be as the church. Xander started saying all the places we could BE the church: We could be a homeless church, Mom, and be on the street, not even IN a building!

We talked about how being the church means loving one another and that by us being the church, people will know who God is and how much he loves them.

Xander’s final questions of the night: 1. Who were the first people to know God loved them? 2. Who was the person who started the church?

Such fun and important conversations continue! Thank you, Mosaic, for these five years in a place that have shaped my sons in beautiful ways. I am forever grateful.

Growing up in a musical family, taking piano lessons was an understood rite of passage. Beginning in kindergarten and going all the way through my senior year of high school, every week, one day after school, I would have a half-hour lesson. Most of the time, I really liked learning how to play. There was, however, a huge turning point for me at about 6th grade.

Around this stage, the music began to get more challenging and I was really having to work if I wanted to get better. I could keep playing the “kids” stuff or I could push through, learn some new skills and a whole new world of material I could play would be opened up to me.

Both my piano teacher and my parents knew this to be true, knowing how much I would enjoy what was on the other side of this developmental hill. So, they did what good coaches do…they encouraged and pushed me to work hard and press through. Not having something come easily for me was a new and pretty uncomfortable experience. I hated it. And besides that, I wasn’t quite sure that I wanted to press through. Why? Wasn’t where I was at good enough?

I began to get really frustrated and discouraged and felt like the encouragement was pressure. Since I have a natural tendency to want to please people and often really care about what people think about me, I pushed through with the motivation of pleasing my piano teacher or my parents.

Even though I was getting to play more challenging and fun pieces, I still wasn’t enjoying playing because I was doing it to please someone else and not because I wanted it. I brought up wanting to quit taking piano all together, thinking that would solve my problem. Yet, I still really enjoyed playing and honestly did want to intentionally get better. I just wanted it to be for me and because I wanted to play, not because someone else wanted it for me.

I remember processing through all of this as a twelve year old, making the conscious acknowledgment that I did like playing the piano and that I did want to improve. I began to own my reason for playing. I did not want to do piano competitions or perform. I loved playing because it was an escape for me. I loved making beautiful music, expressing my emotions through the songs I played. I would go into our music room for hours, playing and thinking through what was going on in my life. Later, I was able to play in all sorts of places, doing accompaniment for kids’ choirs and being on worship teams. I enjoyed being able to use my talents to serve others.

This was a significant turning point for me. I began to enjoy playing again and pushed through that developmental hump, opening myself up to so much more that I could play and do. Playing the piano was incredibly helpful for me, going through my teenage years. As an adult, I miss having that outlet probably more than I’m even aware of.

All of this was brought to mind as I’ve been processing through my reason to blog. I haven’t posted in a while and I get encouraged to do so by others pretty often. One of my best friends has recently asked me some pretty powerful questions as to why I don’t blog, as I was sharing with them some of the things I was reading and learning. Usually, people encourage me to blog after I share something like that, knowing that the things I’m thinking about and processing through might be helpful to a larger audience. Yet, I’ve been afraid of blogging for a lot of the same reasons I wanted to quit piano: fear of not being perfect, fear of what people will think, and feeling pressure to please and perform. I’ve been “quitting” on this for some time now. How could I have been wiser at twelve than I am at 33? That young woman has been pretty convicting to me lately!

So, here’s the processing now. I need to write for me. Because I enjoy it and it’s a healthy outlet for me. In the same way that my playing and practicing changed when I stopped pressuring myself to be perfect, I can write simply because I enjoy writing. What is perfection in that anyway?

And the truth is, the more I write, the better I will get and the more I will enjoy it. And the more I will be able to serve and help others. If I would have stopped playing in 6th grade, I would have missed out on a lot of opportunities that came later for me that were really rewarding. The same is probably true with this. I will never know what might be missed because I didn’t take the risk to get over this new developmental hump for me.

So, here’s to a new risk. Writing because I want to and I like it. Posting it in a blog because I enjoy sharing what I’m learning and processing through. I really do hope that it is actually helpful for someone. But more importantly, it’s helpful for me. I’m ready now to enjoy the journey!

“What is the greatest predictor of relationship success?”

It’s a great question and one that many researchers have sought to discover. The studies I’ve read often discover the same thing…just communicated differently. I really like the new insight that I gained recently.

In answer to the question, one researcher (Shelly Gable from UC, Santa Barbara) says that the health of the relationship can be assessed more by looking at how a couple responds to good news, as opposed to how they fight. She plots out our options to respond on an Active/Passive and Constructive/Deconstructive grid. The goal for us that predicts success would be an actively constructive response to good news. In a healthy relationship, our excitement should match the excitement of our spouse.

This got me thinking about how I respond to Anthony when he tells me good news. And, if you know my husband, I am fortunate that this is often. Really often. Pretty much every conversation we have. And told with lots of excited emotion. Positivity exudes from Anthony’s pores! But, how do I respond?

The reality wasn’t pretty for me. I tend to mostly be passively constructive (“Oh, that’s nice.”) or actively deconstructive, also known as “bubble bursting.” There’s a reason Anthony used to sing the “Party Pooper” song to me earlier in our relationship. You know the one…“Every party needs a pooper that’s why we invited you!” I’m sad to admit how true it has been.

This also got me thinking about how I respond to others when they have good news. How do I respond to Xander when he is super excited about something he did at school or a Lego thing he built? How do I respond to a friend who tells me about their new job opportunity? How do I internally respond when I read some good news someone shares on Facebook?

I find that I do not respond actively and constructively as much as I would like. This begs the question for me: maybe I am the one who is missing out. If I shared joy as much with others who told me good news, I would be experiencing a lot more joy in my life. Which would probably make others more apt to tell me their good news. Which would cause me to experience more joy . And so on. A pretty beautiful cycle, if you ask me!

When someone tells you good news, how do you respond? Try an experiment for a week of responding actively and constructively. Watch what happens to the relationship and watch what happens to you. I think we will be pleasantly surprised!