Seeking Him

Hell Week

We are deeply immersed in the wonderful world of theatre this week in my house.  Both of my teenage daughters are in the final week of rehearsal for their middle school and high school plays, affectionately known by the kids as "hell week."  On top of their regular school day and homework, they are each spending 4-6 hours every day after school in rehearsal.  Both girls have done a number of plays in the past, but this weekend is particularly exciting because they each have roles with a bit more responsibility and time in the "spotlight" than they have had in previous shows.  My younger daughter in particular has been rehearsing for this show since mid-September and has put in untold hours both on and off the stage in preparation for this weekend.  It is exhausting and exhilarating and has everyone running on adrenaline to some degree.

Simply, perhaps a bit selfishly, I love it.  I volunteer a fair amount with the middle school productions and I have been somewhat obsessed myself this week with all the last minute concerns.  Because of my involvment in a variety of production details, I have the joy of hanging around rehearsals sometimes.  As I have said before on this blog, I love theatre kids.  They are quirky and smart, creative and playful, exhuberant and demonstrative.  Unlike many of their peers, they don't see conformity as the primary purpose of their existence.  Through their participation in these productions, these kids are learning so many fabulous like skills; teamwork, risk-taking, comfort with being up in front of people, the experience of putting themselves in someone else's shoes and imagining how they might feel in a given situation, insight into human nature and what makes something funny or touching or inspiring, the responsibility of being in the spotlight while still being unselfish and generous with your fellow actors/ teammates, taking direction from an authority figure who has the big picture in mind that you might not be able to see, and the value and privilege of creating something that brings joy and happiness to others.  As I said, I love this process and I'm thrilled my kids have found this place to spend their passion for this season of their life.

I was having a conversation with my eldest last night about how she was handling the stress of having so much to do this week.  I have asked both my kids repeatedly, "is all the hard work worth it?"  Both have answered with a resounding yes each and every time.  While I absolutely believe I have to guard against my kids being over-scheduled and stressed out, I also believe that there are valuable lessons to be learned with a time-limited period of stress-producing, hard work.  Really good things come from hard work. Championship teams or fabulous shows, extraordinary works of art or meaningful acts of service all require us to pour ourselves out and, to some degree, use ourselves up.  If we feel passionate about something, if we really care about something, if we lose ourselves in creating something bigger than ourselves...we are really alive.  And that is a good thing.

One of my favorite songs has a line in it that says "the Glory of God is man fully alive."  Isn't it the best feeling to lose track of time doing something you truly love doing?  Living in a moment so fully that I temporarily forget my obsession with what has been left undone or what needs doing next?   Having fun...real fun, while pouring myself into a creative process that taps into one of the gifts that my Creative Creator has poured into me?  Perhaps, in the process, even connecting with other human beings in ways that cause me to celebrate our common humanity instead of focusing on those things that divide us.

Yes, hell week is stressful.  Yes, hell week is hard work.  Yes, the pressure is scary and the hours are long.  In spite of all that, I think my girls are having the time of their lives and on opening night (or opening day) hell week will be transformed into a little taste of Heaven. 

"The Glory of God is man fully alive."  It inspires me to have a few more "hell weeks" in my life as well.

Thoughts on Simplicity from Richard Foster

We are doing an adult education class on Sunday mornings based on the Christian classic Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth by Richard Foster.  I initially read this book in June and I have really enjoyed spending time going back through it more slowly with friends.  Each week, we discuss one chapter and this week's focus is the spiritual discipline of Simplicity.

As I prepare for class each week, I have been using a study guide also written by Richard Foster.  Here is a very thought-provoking excerpt from this week's entry in the study guide:

Simplicity is openness, unselfconsciousness, naturalness.  It is the opposite of subtlety, cunning, duplicity.  Where simplicity abounds, words can be taken at face value: there is no hidden agenda.  Simplicity frees us from the tyranny of the self, the tyranny of things, and the tyranny of people.

The self clamors for attention, self-recognition, applause.  Through artful deception, it appears to be younger, wiser, richer, saintlier than is actually the case. 

Confront and challenge the tyranny of the self with the following questions:

• Am I pretending to be an expert where I am only an amateur?
• Do I really read the books I quote?
• Do I use rhetoric as a curtain to conceal my true intentions?
• Do I give the impression of being more godly (or more profane, whichever will give more status in the group) than I truly am?
• Do I try to impress people with my degrees, titles or honors?

Simplicity also prevails against the tyranny of things.  Out of fear that others might discover who we are, we create an artificial world of ostentatious display, extravagant ornamentation, and pretentious style. 

Rebuke the tyranny of things with the following questions:

• Am I living contentedly within my income?
• Do I act my age?
• Am I a compulsive buyer?
• Do I try to impress people with gadgets?
• Do I buy what I can afford and what my responsibility to the poor suggests?

Finally, there is the tyranny of people.  What horrendous guymnastics we will put ourselves through just to insure that others will have a good opinion of us.  How desperately and sincerely we labor to create the right impression.  Instead of becoming good, we resort to all sorts of devices to make people think we are good.

Joyfully attack the tyranny of people with the following questions:

• Can I allow an unfavorable comment about myself to stand, without any need to straighten out the matter?
• In recounting events, do I shift the story ever so slightly to make myself appear in a more favorable light?
• Must I always make excuses for my behaviour?
• Do I aim at excellence in my work without regard for what people may say or think?
• Can I accept compliments freely without any need to shrug them off in self-conscious modesty?

Only the simple are free.  All others are tyrannized by the ambitious self, the demand for recognition through things, and a preoccupation with the opinions of others.  Francois Fenelon declared, "Simplicity is an uprightness of soul which prevents self-consciousness.  Verily such simplicity is a treasure!"

Comments, thoughts, insights on these words from Foster?  What do you think?  What does simplicity mean to you?  Is there value in simplicity?  How does it work in an increasingly complicated world?

Lecturing Mommy vs. Loving Mommy

We had an incident recently with one of our daughters that necessitated a "parental" conversation with her.  Because the issue was revealed during the school day, I had a little time to think about the upcoming talk before she arrived home from school.  As I was considering what I wanted to say, I thought it would probably be a good idea to bring her daddy into the loop.  As we talked about the issue and what we wanted to communicate to her, he gave me the following suggestion:

If you want her to listen and not completely shut down, it would probably be a good idea if you approached her as "loving mommy" instead of "lecturing mommy."

As I had been of the persuasion that lecturing mommy and loving mommy were all the same mommy, I asked him to explain further.  He went on to say...and I am going to put this in my own words, although his would probably be more amusing because he was trying hard not to get himself into trouble...that I have two different approaches to the girls when I need to offer correction, guidance, discipline or the opportunity for problem-solving. 

Sometimes I approach them in "lecture mommy" mode; I am not really interested in hearing what they have to say about the topic and I am going to be speaking until I am finished.  In this mode, there is really not an invitation for discussion or other opinions and the solution to the problem has already been determined by me and will be done by them.  Apparently, at other times, I approach them in "loving mommy" mode; this is characterized by the identification of a common problem with the opportunity to work together towards a mutually acceptable solution (keeping in mind that, in some cases, I have more votes than they do...this is not a democracy.)  In this mode, I am all about listening to their thoughts, concerns, and ideas.  In this mode, the process of getting to the solution is as important as the solution...if not more so. 

My precious husband, having known me for close to 30 years, could sense that the emotion behind this issue was moving me towards the selection of the "lecturing mommy" approach.  He also, however, has known the daughter in question for her entire life and has noticed how she responds to this approach, especially as a teenager.  In a very gentle and loving way, he suggested that I was going to lose the opportunity to solve this problem altogether if I approached her in "lecturing" mode and that I might consider a tactical adjustment and choose an alternate path.  To make a long story short, he was absolutely right and it was an altogether different conversation with my daughter than it would have been if he had not offered me these suggestions.  Even today, that conversation is still bearing fruit as we continue to work together towards addressing the concerns that were brought up that day.

Don't get me wrong; there are times when only the "lecturing" mommy will do.  Or should I say the "firm, there-is-really-no-room-for-discussion" mommy...lecturing at any length is probably a waste of energy and breath.  Sometimes, we need to be very clear about where the line is located, communicate that the line has been crossed and firmly indicate the neccessity for and means by which that line needs to be "uncrossed."  Some things are not open for discussion or creative problem-solving.

However, as my girls grow closer and closer to adulthood, I find that those times are less and less frequent.  Although there are many times I can see what I believe to be the obvious solution, I am beginning to understand that now is the time when it is more important for the girls to learn the process of figuring those solutions out for themselves.  As a parent, it is difficult to watch your kids fall down when you might be able to prevent it.  Yet, even as adults, we learn best in the difficult process of getting back up. 

More often than not, the conversations I have with my girls these days are more of a give and take than when they were little.  I notice, I advise, I encourage, I remind, sometimes I brainstorm or share my experience in a similar situation. When I am at my best, what I mostly do is keep my mouth shut and do a lot of listening without commentary.  When I really listen, without rushing to judgement or solutions, I find that my girls are often quite smart, capable, intuitive and wise.  Sometimes my job is just to hold the mirror up for them to see those qualities in themselves. 

I was warned over and over that the teenage years would be particularly difficult with girls, but I am finding the oppositie to be true.  So far, I am thoroughly enjoying these years.  My girls are some of my favorite people in the world and I love being around them.  The hard part is backing off a little, stepping back and allowing them room to grow and learn...which sometimes includes falling down.

I don't know how you could make it through this stage of parenting without prayer!

 

 

The Meaning of My Hair

Over the last couple of days, I have been having some funny conversations about my hair with my friends on Facebook.  After spending my entire adult life with what I would consider long hair, I decided on Monday that it was time for a grown-up haircut.  Experiencing immediate buyer's remorse, I did the mature thing and started whining about it on Facebook.  The "conversation" that ensued has been great fun and I wasted so much time online yesterday that I am "fasting" from Facebook today.  (Blogging does not count because my Typepad account is set up to automatically post everything I write to FB.)

Isn't it funny the things to which we attach meaning?  I know it is shallow, but my long hair was/ is a part of how I see myself...part of the myriad of different things that make me, me.  I grew up in Texas in the 1980s, for goodness sake!  Long hair...big, fluffy hair...is part of being a girl in Texas where I spent the ages 12 to 24.  Besides being a life-long Dallas Cowboys fan and having a bit of a southern accent, the long hair was part of the total package that makes me a Texas girl despite the fact that we have now lived here on the East Coast for 20 years.  That and the absolutely fabulous black cowboy boots that I bought in Texas a couple of years ago.

What else makes me, me?   I am a singer.  I am a blonde.  I am a mom.  I am a wife.  I am a lover.  I am a book lover.  I am a mashed potatoes lover.  I am smart.  I am a sister.  I am a daughter.  I am a loud laugher.  I am loquacious. I am a woman.  I am a friend.  I am a writer.  I am heterosexual.  I am a fanatic about purple.   I am friendly/ obnoxiously overbearing (depending on the mood of the recipient.)  I am a social worker. I am white.  I am a good listener.  I am a Cowboy fan.  I am a Democrat.  I am wealthy.  I am a follower of Jesus Christ.  I am Beloved.

Some of these things are physical characteristics.  Some are preferences.  Some speak to my beliefs.  Some are aspects of my personality.  Some are luck of the draw and some are things that developed over time.  Some are choices, some will never change.  Some have always been true and others are just being revealed.  Some matter a great deal and some are of less relative importance.  Some will be less true in 10 years, some will be with me into eternity.

My point?  None of these things individually is all of who I am.  I am an evolving, changing, growing, learning individual and these things all together make up the tapestry of who I am.  If you made a judgement about what kind of music I liked based on the color of my eyes, you would clearly miss the whole picture.  If you guessed how I vote based on my religious affiliation, you would be jumping to conclusions.  If you guessed what color my hair was when I was born based on what color it is now, you would likely be wrong.  :-)  You get my point..., as humans, we like to categorize and simplify.  If we aren't careful, we fall prey to flash judgements about who a person is based on one thing that we know to be true about them.  People are much more complicated and interesting than that!

Yet, some things do matter more.  Each week when I go to the Lamb Center, I find that many of the parts of who I am that appear meaningful in the outside world, really don't matter much within those walls and around that table.  When I am there, I wear my most casual clothes...jeans, tennis shoes and a Lamb Center or CPC t-shirt.  I pull my hair back in a pony tail and leave the fancy jewelry at home.  How I look, where I live and how I vote aren't really of interest to these people who are so hungry for hope.  The fact that I love the Lord and I love each one of them is enough to belong to this community.  As we share our hearts together and mine God's Word for treasure, I find I am my most true, REAL self and I experience the reality of the most important aspect of who I am...I am Beloved.  Connecting to other human beings to experience that truth; the Kingdom of God drawing near.

So, enough of that, let's get back to my hair.  My husband says that, with my new conservative haircut, people will start thinking I am a Republican.  With the purple streaks that I will be putting in my hair, should I get my nose or my eyebrow pierced??

FOR REAL!!

My daughters and I attended the Revolve Tour this weekend with a group of 50 moms and daughters from our church community.  Along with 4,000 others, we listened, laughed, danced, sang and worshipped.  This event was produced by Women of Faith and was a celebration of all the beauty and promise that is a young woman in her teenage years.  I loved everything about the weekend; spending time with my daughters, spending time with many of my very best friends and hearing from some incredibly talented young women and men who have devoted themselves to letting teenage girls know that God loves them...for real!

Truly, I enjoyed the entire production and I was so grateful that we had made the effort to get this many girls to the conference.  The message, in my opinion, was something that every girl going through these tumultous years needs to hear...be real.  Who you are right this minute, the unique individual that God made YOU to be, is just the person that the world needs now.  Not a version of yourself that seeks to be like everyone else, not the version of yourself that blends in with the crowd, not the version of yourself that looks more like the magazine covers...but the REAL you, with all your quirks, your passions, your talents, your beauty. 

All the performers were wonderful and reinforced the theme message of the weekend.  The girls particularly enjoyed a young man named Chad Eastham who unraveled the mystery of what guys really think.  The girls in my car spent the ride home reading excerpts of his book out loud; much laughter!!  We are all inspired by a 14 year old young man named Austin Gutwein who showed them that even a kid can change the world.  The Drama Team made us all laugh and think.  The musical artists had us on our feet dancing and singing; Group 1 Crew, Stellar Kart, and Britt Nicole.  We truly worshipped and made a seriously LOUD and joyful noise to the Lord!

My favorite speaker was Jenna Lucado, the daughter of author Max Lucado.  Jenna's message struck home for me personally and is the one that I will continue to pray over my daughters.  Jenna started on Friday night by showing us the various ways the world defines us and then making the suggestion that we won't know who WE really are until we understand who God really is.  On Saturday, she expanded on that by relaying to the girls some really important points about who God is.

First, she suggested that we follow a God who really GETS us.  She talked about the special kind of friends who really know us and love us anyway...who know our quirks, our passions, our talents and our weaknesses and love us for all of them!  She said that God is that friend who gets us in ways that other people can't even begin to understand...in ways we can't even understand about ourselves!  He created each of us in unique ways that fit perfectly with the plans that He has for us.  Because of Jesus, He understands how hard life can be sometimes; what it feels like to hurt, what it feels like to be rejected, to be lonely, to be left out. to be disappointed.  He is the God who really GETS us!

She also suggested that we follow a God who has GOT us.  She shared a story with which many of us were familiar to illustrate this idea.  She talked about being scared of the deep end of the pool when she was little and how her dad tried to help her with her fears.  He would stand down in the deep end, hold out his arms to her and say "Jump!  Don't be afraid; I've got you!"  Our heavenly Father is the God who says to us "Don't be afraid!  I've GOT you!"  Scripture tells us over and over that He will never leave us or forsake us; that whatever we face in this life, we will never walk through it alone.  He doesn't ever promise that life will be easy, but He does promise that He will be with us in all circumstances.  This one brought me to tears as she spoke directly to those girls who perhaps did not feel that kind of safety net from their earthly fathers.  This God is the Heavenly Father who's GOT us!

Finally, she suggested that we follow a God who wants to GIVE us a new name.  She used the visual of big name tags with "names" we might give ourselves...names like "defeated," or "nobody" or "not loved."  She shared with us specific scripture verses that refuted those names and gave us the truth about who we are to God.  God names us "more than conquerors."  God names us "daughters of the King."  God names us each "Beloved."  God names us "Forever."  With the names that God gives us, we know who we really are and we begin to live with confidence from that reality. 

Who are we?  We are God's Beloved!  What did we learn this weekend?  God loves you, the REAL you...FOR REAL!!

Words

Words are the currency in which I deal.  Words are what I do.  Words that I offer in encouragement to friends and family, words that I give in guidance to my children or another who seeks my counsel, words that I sing, words that I read, words that I write, words with which another blesses me.  I delight in words...I find great pleasure in a phrase skillfully written.  I am inspired by words written thousands of years ago and preserved in scripture; words written in response to a long ago challenge that are as true today as they were then.  I am entranced by the power of a story well told in language that connects at both an intellectual and an emotional level; words that paint a picture that takes me places to which I have not yet traveled physically.  I am challenged by words from fellow sojourners on this path I have chosen; friends that I have not yet met who also seek to participate in this Kingdom of God of which The Word made flesh spoke when He walked among us.  Words that move me to action, words that entreat me to Be Still and Know.

My journey as this new season begins is a journey of words.  I have missed THIS place for words and I hope that as I invite God to speak His better Words into my life, some of them may overflow here on this blog.  I know that writing down what I hear is part of my journey, even if I am still a bit fuzzy on the details.  I have attempted in this busy time to clear space to listen; to others, to myself and to God.  For when I speak or write without listening, I am just making noise.  I am grateful in this season for a number of new opportunities to listen and teach.  I am saddened that it was time to say goodbye to other places where I have heard God speak in the past.  In all ways, I am aware of His abundant, extravagant grace and I am grateful.

On this day of remembrance, I am also aware that there are some great sadnesses for which there are no words.  A place where words are inadequate, where the only appropriate response is silence and love.  In those places, the ministry of presence knows that the only words that matter are "I love you and I am here."   My prayers are lifted up for those who mourn today for those losses suffered 8 years ago.  We have not forgotten your loss...indeed, our loss.

For those of you who have checked this blog regularly while I have been silent, thank you for your faithful encouragement.  Stay tuned for a rant that I have brewing on the healthcare debate :-)...speaking of the ugly side of words!!

Father's Day

Father's Day has always been something of an awkward, complicated holiday for me...less so beginning 15 years ago when I started spearheading the celebrations here in my own home to honor this wonderful man with whom I am blessed to be raising these two girls.  Even then, there was still that day when I stood in the card section trying to find the appropriate card for my dad.  The Hallmark version of fatherhood really didn't apply in our particular case and my sister and I often joked about the challenge of finding that perfect card to send.  "You were always there for me"...well, not really.  "You set the example..." ummm, well, maybe not.  Ultimately, there would be a card that simply said "I love you, Daddy" and I would know that I had a winner. 

Yesterday was the first Father's Day since my dad's death on the first Sunday of Advent this past year.  As I wrote then, Daddy's death brought a mixture of sadness and relief for all of us who had watched him struggle for so long.  Knowing that he is finally at peace has brought me a great deal of comfort in the months that have passed since then.  Yet, after I called my precious step-dad yesterday to wish him a Happy Father's Day, I found myself surprised by tears that came as I realized that I had no more phone calls to make.   I experienced a similar response in the card section last week as I looked for cards for the other fathers in our life.  This year, ironically, there seemed to be so many cards that would have been appropriate for Daddy. 

People often, particularly in those first few months, asked me how I am...how am I doing, you know, with my father's death?  It is so hard to answer that question in a way that is honest and honors the spirit in which the question is asked.  The simple truth; I am doing fine.  My grief for the loss of my dad began when I was 14 or 15 years old and, to be honest, the hardest work was done in my  20s as I worked to separate myself from the feelilngs of responsibility that I had for him and as I fought with all my might to prevent my trust issues from destroying my marriage.  It is by the grace of God's healing and the steady, patient, deep love of my husband that I walk this path today. 

As I look back over the 6 months since his death, I realize that I don't really miss him on a day to day basis.  I had built such firm, protective boundaries between our lives that he, sadly, was not part our everyday experiences, so it would be false for me to say that I miss his daily presence.  Yet, as we reach new milestones in the lives of our girls, I often think of things that I would like to share with him and I am sad that he is no longer a phone call away.  With a new driver in our house, I look back fondly on the process of him teaching me to drive and I would love to talk with him and laugh with him and hear him tease me about not knowing my left from my right, as I insistently remind him that I have now been driving for 30 years, thank you very much.  I cherish those "normal" moments when I think of those memories and I am grateful for the tears that remind me of the love that we shared for one another.  I have learned that there is no right or wrong way to travel this path of grief and have tried to be gentle with myself when my journey looks different than someone else's or different than I expected it to be.  As I learned from the 12 step program years ago, I must travel this path One Day at a Time and keep my eyes firmly focused on my Heavenly Father.

I don't know if we are still aware of what is happening here once we are with the Lord, but if you can hear me Daddy...Happy Father's Day.  I love you and I can't wait to see you again one day!

Fertile Soil

In my last blog entry several weeks ago, I continued my springtime practice of finding the connections between gardening and my spiritual journey. In that entry, I wrote these words:

Any transformation that takes place, any fruit that my life bears, is entirely His doing, His creation, to His glory.  I can create an environment where I am more likely to see Him work His magic, but I cannot create one single beautiful flower on my own.

Since then, I have thought a great deal about what constitutes the environment of which I spoke...what is the "fertile soil" where God can work His gifts of transformation in my life?  What is my responsibility and what is His?

In the last couple of weeks, I have been reading a couple of books by Richard Foster.  One of them, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, beautifully echoes the discoveries I found in my garden.  Here are a few excerpts:

"When we despair of gaining inner transformation through human powers of will and determination, we are open to a wonderful new realization: inner righteousness is a gift from God to be graciously received.  The needed change within us is God's work, not ours.  The demand is for an inside job, and only God can work from the inside.  We cannot attain or earn this righteousness of the Kingdom of God; it is a grace that is given."

"God has given us the disciplines of the spiritual life as a means of receiving His grace.  The disciplines allow us to place ourselves before God so that He can transform us."

"A farmer is helpless to grow grain; all he can do is provide the right conditions for the growing of grain.  He cultivates the ground, he plants the seed, he waters the plants, and then the natural forces of the earth take over and up comes the grain.  This is the way it is with the spiritual disciplines--they are a way of sowing to the Spirit.  The disciplines are God's way of getting us into the ground; they put us where He can work within us and transform us.  By themselves the spiritual disciplines can do nothing; they only get us to the place where something can be done.  They are God's means of grace.  The inner righteousness we seek is not something that is poured on our heads.  God has ordained the disciplines of the spiritual life as the means by which we place ourselves where He can bless us."

Of course, the term "spiritual discipline" can be one of those church words that needs definition to be useful.  Mr. Foster, in this case, is speaking of practices such as the following when he uses the term spiritual disciplines: prayer, meditation, study, solitude, submission, service, confession and worship, among others. While all of these practices can be used by God to bring growth and healing, we as human beings often have the tendency to abuse that which is good for us.  Mr. Foster addresses this as well:

"The spiritual disciplines are intended for our good.  They are meant to bring the abundance of God into our lives.  It is possible, however, to turn them into another set of soul-killing laws.  Law-bound disciplines breathe death."

"When the disciplines degenerate into law, they are used to manipulate and control people.  We take explicit commands and use them to imprison others.  Such a deterioration of the spiritual disciplines results in pride and fear.  Pride takes over because we come to believe that we are the right kind of people.  Fear takes over because we dread losing control."

"If we are to progress in the spiritual walk so that the disciplines are a blessing and not a curse, we must come to a place in our lives where we can lay down the everlasting burden of always needing to manage others.  This drive, more than any single thing, will lead us to turn the spiritual disciplines into laws.  Once we have made a law, we have an "externalism" by which we judge who is measuring up and who is not...when we genuinely believe that inner transformation is God's work and not ours, we can rest our passion to set others straight."

So, the theme for the summer...what creates the fertile soil in my life?  What is my business and what is God's?  Am I using the good stuff God has given me to get in my own way or in the way of someone else's spiritual journey?  Must run do "last day of school" stuff...more later!!

 

Green Thumb?

  I have been posting a lot of pictures of my flower "babies" online.  While my actual children are even more gorgeous, this time of year I am much more likely to take pictures of my flowers than of my girls...much to the dismay of their grandparents!  With the advent of Facebook in my life this year, there are many more people looking at my flower pictures and I have had several comments regarding the apparent "greenness" of my thumb. SOooooo, that got me thinking...

Is my thumb really any "greener" than anyone else's...do I have a particular "gift" or talent for gardening?  Clearly, I am not creating these magnificient flowers.  I am not imagining these shapes or colors, like an artist painting a picture or a sculptor fashioning her masterpiece.  What is it about me that makes me a "gardener?"  As I pondered this, it occurred to me that there are two primary things that I possess that contribute to the beauty of my garden.  The first is a passion for flowers and the second is the willingness to get dirty.

Simply put, I love flowers.  I delight in flowers.  I find a tremendous amount of joy in looking at flowers, caring for flowers, and watching plants transform from ugly tubers or seedlings into works of art.  My family finds it alternately endearing and/or embarrassing that I often squeal with delight (yes, out loud) when I spot a particularly colorful display along our travels or notice a new baby bloom in our yard when we arrive home.  The amazing fact that some also have a heavenly scent is just too wonderful for words.  I love the varieties of greens that are found in God's imagination and the extraordinary vibrancy of the colors of His blossoms.  I find pleasure in perusing garden catalogues, garden books, and garden websites.  I enjoy doing research to find the perfect plant for that particular spot in the ever-changing, always evolving painting that is my garden.  Except for being pregnant, gardening is the closest thing to participating in a miracle that I have ever experienced. 

Growing flowers, however, requires getting dirty.  Flowers grow in dirt and playing in the dirt is messy.  Digging, planting, pruning, weeding, mulching, feeding and watering will produce dirt, sweat, aching muscles and, eventually, hopefully, God willing, flowers.  While generally fairly well groomed, I get very sweaty and very dirty when I am gardening.  It isn't pretty, but it is worth it.  90% of the time, I am extremely happy while working in the garden, despite the sore muscles and dirty clothes.  The other 10% of the time it is just hard work that has to be done in order to achieve the intended goal, so I grit my teeth and get it done.  Sometimes, especially this time of year, I can't wait to get out in the garden and I am happy from the moment I begin.  Other times, it seems a big hassle to change clothes, get my tools and gloves and set aside my other activities long enough to garden.  Yet, once I get started, I lose myself in the task at hand and find the joy that I knew was waiting there all along.  As the season progresses, the hard labor of the spring transitions into the maintenance tasks of summer.  In the height of summer, a little weeding, a little feeding, and a little watering are mostly just good excuses to be closer to the explosion of flowers and the butterfly friends that they attract.

Passion and a willingness to get dirty is all I really bring to the equation.  The transformation of ugly dirt into colorful blooms is entirely God's job.  No matter how hard I work, I can't create a single flower.  What I can do, however, is provide an environment where God can work His magic.  Providing fertile soil, planting flowers in the appropriate aspect, making sure the weeds don't get too thick and the plants don't go too long without water are my attempts at participating in the miracle of creation.  Because He loves me and He placed a creative spark within me, God allows me to get involved in the details of His masterpiece.  Would daylilies look good next to the coneflowers?  Which attracts more butterflies; shasta daisies or black-eyed susans?  Can I possibly get away with another purple flowering plant without it just being ridiculous?  Sometimes my experiments work out beautifully, other times I learn that certain plants prefer slightly different treatment and I choose to rip them out and move them to another place in my garden or dispose of them entirely.  As I travel further down this gardening path, I become a little wiser, a little more experienced and a little braver about trying something new.  Sometimes, despite my mistakes and neglect, something unplanned and unexpectedly beautiful blooms in the garden and I am reminded once again that I never really was in charge.

I think my walk with the Lord is a great deal like my journey as a gardener.  All I really bring to the equation is a passion for Him and the willingness to do the "dirty work" in my desire to be in His presence.  Any transformation that takes place, any fruit that my life bears, is entirely His doing, His creation, to His glory.  I can create an environment where I am more likely to see Him work His magic, but I cannot create one single beautiful flower on my own.  Somedays, just like in the garden, the weather is fine and the work is joyful.  Other days, the work is just hard and messy...the weeds threaten and it is just too hot to garden.  Yet occasionally, on those especially grace-filled days, in spite of my neglect, the flowers bloom and the butterflies arrive anyway.

Why I Love May

 Some of my favorites are blooming right now AND we have robin babies on the way!  Enjoy!  I just wish you could also smell the lilac and peonies.  Scratch and sniff blog?

Someday

I will be turning 45 this summer.  For some reason, this transition seems more significant than my 40th birthday.  I guess it just seems so very grown-up; closing in on 50 being part of it, I'm sure.  Turning 40 seemed to be something for which I was prepared..."I'm almost 40 years old" was part of my vocabulary of phrases starting shortly after I turned 36, if I recall correctly.  I saw turning 40 as the boundary line for putting up with nonsense...as in "I don't have to put up with that; I am almost 40 years old."  40 said I am free to be my own person...who cares what others think.   40 was a reasonable midway point, 80 being a realistic lifespan for a healthy woman of my generation.  90 seems a little more like wishful thinking, so 45 appears to be on the back side of that halfway point.  45 has kind of snuck up on me and I wonder how 5 years passed by without me noticing.

45 feels more like I better get focused, quit wasting time.  Occasions when I think "someday I will ______" seem more pressing as 45 approaches.  No more allowances for potential, now it is time for "if not now, when?"  I know that people go back to school at 60 and learn new skills at 70, but the likelihood of teaching this "old dog new tricks" decreases as the years pass, especially for a procrastinator like me.  Someday I want to learn to REALLY play the guitar and piano (I mess around a little with both.)  Someday I want to write a book, study Greek, sing that awesome song I've always wanted to sing.   Someday I want to go to Italy and Spain and Greece and a thousand other places I've read about in books.  Someday I want to read the classics that I haven't gotten to you yet.  Someday I want to live at the beach.  You get the picture, we all have those things we want to do "someday." The approach of my 45th birthday makes me wonder when someday begins.

In 5 years, I will turn 50 and send my youngest off to college all in the same month.  These past 5 years simply FLEW by; I am assuming the next 5 years will pass just as quickly.  As I watch my girls grow up exponentially faster with each passing year, it occurs to me that I want to live my life very purposefully and very intentionally while they are still watching.  What are they learning from us about the ways that we spend our time, choose our priorities, live our lives?  What do they know about being a woman from watching me muddle my way through this life?  What will they remember about this part of their journeys that they will carry with them in their emotional and spiritual DNA for the rest of their lives? 

The Joy of the Lord is My Strength

Because it is Tuesday morning, it is my time to consider what God might have me share with my friends at the Lamb Center this afternoon.  Because of a conversation that occurred when I was there last week, I felt led this morning to spend some time seeing what scripture has to say about "joy."  If you had never been there, you might think that joy would be a strange topic to consider when spending time with people who have no place to live.  Yet, I consistently find the opposite to be true. 

What is joy?  Is it the same as happiness?  Does it depend on our circumstances?  What does God say about joy and what did Jesus teach when He was walking amongst us?  These are a few of the questions that I hope we will consider this afternoon.  In the meantime, I have been so blessed by the process of the digging for answers and surprised by the places that God chose to reveal new treasures as a reward for my digging.

For instance, many of us are familiar with the phrase from Nehemiah 8:10 that says "the joy of the Lord is my strength (NIV.)"  I wrote down that verse for us to read this afternoon...just a couple of the verses at first.  In this instance, it would have been easy to just pull the "Hallmark card" approach to quoting scripture....find a verse that I like and separate it from it's context because it works for my purposes.  While I don't generally have a problem with that :-), today I felt compelled to read all of Nehemiah 8 to see just what had happened before Nehemiah made this statement.  I encourage you to read it yourself, but essentially the people's hearts had been split wide open because they had been read the scriptures and "they finally understood what they had been taught. (New Century Version)"  They were so overwhelmed by the Truth of the word of God that they were weeping, although it is unclear whether they were weeping because they were so moved with emotion or because they were convicted of how far they had strayed.  Either way, they are blown away because they finally get it!  Nehemiah then reminds them that hearing the Lord speak through His word is a cause for celebration! 

 ¹⁰ Nehemiah said, "Go and enjoy good food and sweet drinks. Send some to people who have none, because today is a holy day to the Lord. Don't be sad, because the joy of the Lord will make you strong."

 ¹¹ The Levites helped calm the people, saying, "Be quiet, because this is a holy day. Don't be sad."

 ¹² Then all the people went away to eat and drink, to send some of their food to others, and to celebrate with great joy. They finally understood what they had been taught.

For some reason, reading the context in which these words were written changed the whole meaning for me...deepened it, personalized it.  Those moments when God has chosen to reveal Himself to me in a way in which I hadn't understood Him before, those glimpses of Him that bring me to my knees with adoration for His complexity and depth, those realizations that do indeed bring tears to my eyes...those are moments that exemplify "the joy of the Lord" for me.  And how beautiful, how very like Him, to show us in scripture just what it means to revel in that joy...throw a party AND share it with someone else.  By all means, throw a party for yourselves, but go and share your good fortune...go and spread the good news.  Seems like that is what church should be, but I wonder if we get stuck in the "throwing the party" for ourselves part sometimes.  Hmmm...

Reminds me of lyrics to my new favorite song "live high, live mighty, live righteously."  But that is for another day's blog entry...

Guess what I am doing this weekend...

The sun is finally shining.  I am itching to get my fingers in the dirt.  I have all my new babies ready to go.  I think that there will be lots of flowers in heaven, but I think I will get started here on earth.

Validation

How do you know you made the right decision to darken the color of your hair?

When you ask your soon to be 13 year old what she thinks of your new hair color and she says "Your hair looks pretty good, Mom, but I miss your exciting Gwen Stefani look!"

Oh my!  Out of the mouths of babes...

Feed My Sheep

While we were on vacation a couple of weeks ago, I read a fabulous book.  While any book is fairly fabulous when read by the ocean :-), this one really captured my attention and has continued to simmer beneath the surface for me.  The book is called Take this Bread: A Radical Conversion and it was written by author Sara Miles.  

Having grown up in the church, I am increasingly interested in what draws people to the Christian walk later in their lives...what about Jesus is compelling for them?  How does "the church" help in that process of drawing someone to Jesus and how, as it so often does, does the church get in the way?   Sara was a completely secular person who wandered into a church at the age of 46, took communion and fell in love with Jesus.  Her life up to that point, while fascinating and full of adventure (war coorespondent/ freedom fighter/ chef,) did not in any way seem to be that of a person who would be drawn to the traditional church.  Yet, her journey to a life-transforming, world-changing walk with Jesus happened...in spite of her own biases against the church and, frankly, the church's biases against her.  I was taken with her sense of humor, her humility and her tremendous insights into what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ in a broken world.  Most of all, I was moved by her passion for the Lord and her compassion for His children.

Sara's faith journey eventually leads her to open up a food pantry for the "least of these" in an impoverished, multi-cultural neighborhood in San Francisco.  What she learned about herself, her God and her fellow human beings resonated with me on many levels; both in terms of my own love for and frustrations with the church and, more recently, with my life changing experiences at the Lamb Center.  Here are a few of my favorite excerpts from the book:

"Caught up in the moment, every moment, I didn't know that those war years would be formative Christian experiences.  They would introduce me not only to big Christian themes--love, death, fear, and sacrifice among them--but to hard lessons about what it means to be a Christian.  Long before I went to church or ran a food pantry, wars would reveal my weaknesses and mistakes---sins, to use a word that never occurred to me then---and make me find a way to continue working, past shame.  They showed me how helpless I was to save anyone, or to fix suffering, and how it mattered anyway for me to be there with people.  I'd have to learn to receive when I was proud and give when I was burned-out and poke around in strange places without knowing what I was going to uncover."

"...I didn't 'deserve' communion myself now.  I wasn't getting it because I was good.  I wasn't getting it because I was special.  I certainly didn't get to pick who else was good enough, holy enough, deserving enough, to receive it.  It wasn't a private meal.  The bread on that Table had to be shared with everyone in order for me to really taste it....I was not going to get to sit by myself and think loftily about how much Jesus loved me in particular.  I was not going to get to have dinner, eternally, with people just like me. I was going to get communion, whether I wanted it or not, with people I didn't necessarily like.  People I didn't choose...but, the people who God chose for me.      I ate the bread.    Conversion isn't, after all, a moment: It's a process, and it keeps happening, with cycles of acceptance and resistance, epiphany and doubt."

"You can't be a Christian by yourself was a lesson I though I'd grasped...but the conceit of individual salvation remained a powerfully tempting one.  Offering groceries to all comers around the altar, I would discover how painfully like church the food pantry really was: how it asked me to leave the certainties of past behind, tangled me up with people I didn't particularly want to know, and frightened me with its demand for more that I was ready to give."

"I think we are called to something harder than being conventional 'Good Samaritans.'  To understand ourselves, individually and as a church, being rescued by strangers and foreigners, by the wrong people.  To understand ourselves, individually and as a church, as beaten, hungry, hurting, lost at the side of the road.  Called to touch the parts of ourselves that are strange and damaged and needy.  Called to receive love from people we don't know and have no reason to trust.  And only then, in turn, being called to the second part: to go and do the same thing---knowing it will change us in ways we didn't plan and may not like."

"All of it pointed to a force stronger than the anxious formulas of religion: a radically inclusive love that accompanied people in the most ordinary of actions--eating, drinking, walking--and stayed with them through fear, even past death.  That love meant giving yourself away, embracing outsiders as family, emptying yourself to feed and live for others.  The stories illuminated the holiness located in mortal human bodies, and the promise that people could see God by cherishing all those different bodies the way God did.  They spoke of a communion so much vaster than any church could contain: one I had sensed all my life could be expressed in the sharing of food, particularly with strangers. 

I couldn't stop think about another story: Jesus instructed his beloved, fallible disciple Peter exactly how to love Him: 'Feed my sheep.'  Jesus asked, 'Do you love me?'  Peter fussed: 'Of course I love you.'  'Feed my sheep'  Peter fussed some more.  'Do you love me?' asked Jesus again.  'Then feed my sheep.'

It seemed pretty clear.  If I wanted to see God, I could feed people."

Healing Wounds

One of the profound mysteries of our Christian faith is celebrated today on the day we call Good Friday.  I read this scripture this morning and then looked it up in The Message translation:

1 Peter 2:21-25 (The Message)

 ^21-25This is the kind of life you've been invited into, the kind of life Christ lived. He suffered everything that came his way so you would know that it could be done, and also know how to do it, step-by-step.

   He never did one thing wrong,
   Not once said anything amiss.
They called him every name in the book and he said nothing back. He suffered in silence, content to let God set things right. He used his servant body to carry our sins to the Cross so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing. You were lost sheep with no idea who you were or where you were going. Now you're named and kept for good by the Shepherd of your souls.

By His wounds, we are healed.  I love how The Message says "He used His servant body to carry our sins to the Cross so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way."  As I mentioned in my last post, the example Jesus sets for us in being a servant is really resonating with me right now.  I love that Jesus has set us free to be servants and that our wounds, our brokenness, our frailty can be used to bring healing to others.  Nothing is wasted in God's Divine Economy (2 Corinthians 1:3-5)  By His wounds, we have been healed.  His wounds become my healing...set free to love, I can be used for the healing of another.  The Kingdom of God on earth, Amen.

It is a Good Friday. 

Helping, Fixing, Serving

I can't believe that it has been almost a  month since I have posted an entry.  Ideas run through my mind all the time, but I can't seem to make it to the computer to share them here.  The Lord is good and continues to show Himself to me in so many ways.  We are headed to the ocean for vacation for Spring Break and I am hoping to find some time to write while there.  Sitting by the sea always inspires reflection for me.

Probably the most meaningful facet of my life that God has given me this year is the opportunity to serve at the Lamb Center each week.  I see God's presence there so powerfully and I am humbled that He has called me to be part of that community.  Isn't it interesting that the things that mean the most to us can often be the most difficult to describe to others? 

I read this essay by Rachel Naomi Remen in our Lamb Center policy manual.  While I would use the words "Kingdom of God" where she uses the terms "wholeness and mystery of life," her reflections about the nature of service and how it feeds the spirit of the server resonate so profoundly for me.  The truths found in the essay below beautifully describe the service that I see happening at the Lamb Center; a way of seeing life and living life to which I aspire. This season, learning to live life as a servant of the King in all aspects of my life...home, friendships, church, as well as volunteer work...is the focus of God's teaching and guidance to me.  As it says below, service comes from a place of gratitude, not obligation.  I hope you find the words below as meaningful as I did. 

In the Service of Life
In recent years the question how can I help? has become meaningful to many people. But perhaps there is a deeper question we might consider. Perhaps the real question is not how can I help? but how can I serve?

Serving is different from helping. Helping is based on inequality; it is not a relationship between equals. When you help you use your own strength to help those of lesser strength. If I'm attentive to what's going on inside of me when I'm helping, I find that I'm always helping someone who's not as strong as I am, who is needier than I am. People feel this inequality. When we help we may inadvertently take away from people more than we could ever give them; we may diminish their self-esteem, their sense of worth, integrity and wholeness. When I help I am very aware of my own strength. But we don't serve with our strength, we serve with ourselves. We draw from all of our experiences. Our limitations serve, our wounds serve, even our darkness can serve. The wholeness in us serves the wholeness in others and the wholeness in life. The wholeness in you is the same as the wholeness in me. Service is a relationship between equals.

Helping incurs debt. When you help someone they owe you one. But serving, like healing, is mutual. There is no debt. I am as served as the person I am serving. When I help I have a feeling of satisfaction. When I serve I have a feeling of gratitude. These are very different things.

Serving is also different from fixing. When I fix a person I perceive them as broken, and their brokenness requires me to act. When I fix I do not see the wholeness in the other person or trust the integrity of the life in them. When I serve I see and trust that wholeness. It is what I am responding to and collaborating with.

There is distance between ourselves and whatever or whomever we are fixing. Fixing is a form of judgment. All judgment creates distance, a disconnection, an experience of difference. In fixing there is an inequality of expertise that can easily become a moral distance. We cannot serve at a distance. We can only serve that to which we are profoundly connected, that which we are willing to touch. This is Mother Teresa's basic message. We serve life not because it is broken but because it is holy.

If helping is an experience of strength, fixing is an experience of mastery and expertise. Service, on the other hand, is an experience of mystery, surrender and awe. A fixer has the illusion of being causal. A server knows that he or she is being used and has a willingness to be used in the service of something greater, something essentially unknown. Fixing and helping are very personal; they are very particular, concrete and specific. We fix and help many different things in our lifetimes, but when we serve we are always serving the same thing. Everyone who has ever served through the history of time serves the same thing. We are servers of the wholeness and mystery in life.

The bottom line, of course, is that we can fix without serving. And we can help without serving. And we can serve without fixing or helping. I think I would go so far as to say that fixing and helping may often be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul. They may look similar if you're watching from the outside, but the inner experience is different. The outcome is often different, too.

Our service serves us as well as others. That which uses us strengthens us. Over time, fixing and helping are draining, depleting. Over time we burn out. Service is renewing. When we serve, our work itself will sustain us.

Service rests on the basic premise that the nature of life is sacred, that life is a holy mystery which has an unknown purpose. When we serve, we know that we belong to life and to that purpose. Fundamentally, helping, fixing and service are ways of seeing life. When you help you see life as weak, when you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. From the perspective of service, we are all connected: All suffering is like my suffering and all joy is like my joy. The impulse to serve emerges naturally and inevitably from this way of seeing.

Lastly, fixing and helping are the basis of curing, but not of healing. In 40 years of chronic illness I have been helped by many people and fixed by a great many others who did not recognize my wholeness. All that fixing and helping left me wounded in some important and fundamental ways. Only service heals.

Snow Day

Today we are having a snow day and it is March!  What an unexpected blessing!  Ok, so it is not totally unexpected as I have been tracking the storm for several days.  As I have mentioned before, I am a bit of a weather nerd.  I love to watch the weather and my absolute favorite is to track a potential snow storm.  I love snow and perhaps even more, I love anticipating snow.  This winter, in addition to the several weather sites that I usually frequent, I have found a couple of weather blogs.  This is when someone who forecasts weather for a living throws out their latest ideas on what may be approaching and then a whole bunch of people who WISH they did this for a living critique, question and kiss up to said weather expert.  It is extremely amusing and has added this week to the considerable time that I already waste on the computer.

Forecasting weather is a funny thing, isn't it?  While the computer models do a pretty good job of warning us in advance to watch out for a potential weather event that may impact our daily living, it really is essentially guessing about something over which we have no control whatsoever.  Kind of like life.  Our best laid plans can only offer us the illusion of control in a world where there is so much uncertainty.  For me, that is where my faith comes in.  I find comfort in knowing that Someone does know what is coming, does know what will happen and does have my best interests at heart.  We do the best we can to prepare for what life throws at us and then leave the rest to God. 

I hope you are enjoying your snow day as well, if you are among the many folks to whom God said "Stop, slow down" today.

Seriously, you have to go read this...

I have referred you guys to my sister-in-law's blog before, but you really have to go visit again.  Read the one entitled "Hairy Armpits."  It may be the funniest thing that I have ever read.  And yes, those would be my brother's hairy armpits that caught on fire (I knew that would get you there.)  I also think the one called "It is What it Is" is fabulous as well.  Oh heck, just read them all.

Fearful Times

If you read this blog regularly...both of you...then you may have noticed the Bible Verse of the Day application in the column to the left.  It changes daily, by some kind of computer magic, and I often wonder if anyone ever reads them.  Apparently, sometimes they do, as evidenced by an email that I got today regarding today's verse.   Since you might read this entry tomorrow when today's verse is different, today's current verse reads as follows:

I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.  Isaiah 41:13

We watched a wonderful video in bible study last Wednesday that referenced this verse.  Actually, she didn't mention this verse specifically, but mentioned this particular command from God.  According to Beth Moore, the command that God gives His people most often in scripture is "Do Not Fear."   Not 'love one another" or "do not sin" or "feed the hungry"...although He certainly says those things a great deal as well.  If she is correct, God tells His people "do not be afraid" more than any other command, request, suggestion in scripture.

That has stuck with me since I heard it and I have brought it up in every small group or bible study in which I have participated since then, including today.  This bit of bible trivia seems significant to me and I find that I am not quite through wondering about it...which usually means God is not quite through teaching me something about it yet!

After the video last week, I originally thought that it didn't really apply to me that much.  I'm not really a worrier.  I am generally too much of Pollyanna, "rose-colored" glasses type to spend much time looking on the scarier side of things.  In fact, I could probably stand to worry a bit more about some things.  It will all be Ok, right?  Glass half full, count your blessings, etc. etc.

However, Thursday of last week (the day after I heard this new info,) my heart felt particularly heavy.  There were so many prayer requests from our bible study that week, my mom has been sick for months and noone knows why, my children were acting like teenagers in some of those annoying stereotypical ways, my sister's dog had died, and the news on the morning talk shows was dismal.  So many health challenges...what if one of us gets cancer?  So many frightening influences on my girls...what if one of them does drugs, gets pregnant or turns their back on the Lord?  Our country is facing so many obstacles and there seems to be no end in sight...what if Steve loses his job or we are entering another depression?  What if I haven't done all I can as a parent?  What if Steve's plane goes down on a business trip?  What if someone else I love gets sick...or even one of my girls?  What if we lose all our money and I have to quit coloring my hair and getting my nails done? (Just kidding about the last one...really...I will NEVER quit coloring my hair! :-)

Some days, the world seems a long way away from realizing the Kingdom of God.  Some days, the world seems fraught with danger for people I love.  Some days, I am overwhelmed by weltschmerz.  What do we do on those kind of days?  Where do we turn when our best efforts seem laughable in the face of the enormity of the sadness and pain in our world? 

It seems that scripture has an answer.  In the many verses where God tells us "do not be afraid" or "do not fear," He doesn't just leave us hanging.  The verse always goes on to say something like "I will be with you" or "I will help you" or "I will never leave you."  Here is one of my favorites from Joshua:

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9

Several years ago, I found a lump in one of my breasts.  The doctors were concerned enough to do a biopsy on the tissue.  They told me it would take two days to get the results.  As two days passed and we still had no results, I laid awake at night wondering what would happen if I was sick.  What if I had cancer?  My girls were tiny at the time and I was terrified that I might be really ill.  What if they had to grow up without a mother?  Who would teach them "girl stuff?"  Who would help them when they got their periods and broke up with their first boyfriend and....oh my gosh....who would do their hair?  (We already had evidence by then that their Daddy was NOT very good at the hair job! :-)  I was paralyzed with fear and prayed for God to assure me that I would be there to raise my girls.  As I poured my heart out to God...and as two days stretched out to a full week...God did give me an answer, although not the one I thought I wanted.  What I heard from God was this; whether or not I had cancer...whether or not I was sick...whether or not I lived to see my girls grown or had to say goodbye to them while they were still little...no matter what, we would be OK and He would never leave any of us.  What I heard, for those of you who saw the video was "If ______, then GOD."  Even in the face of my worst fear, I heard God say "Do not be afraid, I will never ever leave you or the girls or Steve...no matter what."  I think He might have even reassured me that Steve could learn to do their hair...or maybe that Jenn would just always live next door.  :-)After that night of wrestling with God, I received a peace that passes all understanding, in spite of the fact that I still didn't have the answer I wanted to my question.  The next day, they called with the results that the biopsy was negative and I was just fine.

So when my welschmertz day occurred last week (you will have to go read that old post to learn the definition of that word) I remembered what God said.  I gathered with a bunch of my girlfriends and we prayed together.  We prayed for our kids, our husbands, our parents and our country.  We prayed for ourselves and remembered that we were not alone, no matter what.   God was still in charge and we could lay our concerns at His feet. 

If _____, then GOD.  Do not be afraid.

 

 

 

Around the Table

Last Monday night, my husband and I had dinner with a bunch of "powerful" people.  There were 9 of us for dinner, including the two of us.  I won't give names because I would hate for someone to Google one of these nice people and end up here on my silly blog, where there is a high likelihood of me saying something that could be embarrassing for someone running for high office.  I will just describe it like this: in attendance were three sitting judges, a gentleman who was a member of the Cabinet of two former Presidents, a high level political consultant who served as a senior advisor to Obama in his recent campaign, and our host, the Governor of one of our neighboring states.  We dined in a 54 room mansion that was built in the 19th century, surrounded by treasures dripping with historical significance. 

Initially, I was awe-struck by being in the Governor's Mansion, surrounded by people whose names I had read and whose pictures I had seen.  It was one of those "pinching yourself" kind of occasions.  Yet, as the evening wore on, I found that the people with whom I was dining were just....well, people.  Yes, they had some fascinating stories to tell.  Yes, they were incredibly bright and well informed about politics and government.  But, they also talked about their grand-kids and their kids.  We looked at some funny red spots on their youngest son and did that "mom" thing as we tried to figure out what they were.  We talked about teaching teenage daughters to drive and the high cost of sending your kids to college.  By the end of the evening, we were laughing and talking like old friends sharing a meal around the table...something I have done many times before with many different people.  My primary feeling when I left was "these people are just like me."

The next day, I gathered around a different table, with a different group of people.  As I do every Tuesday afternoon, I joined with my homeless friends at the Lamb Center for afternoon bible study.  The topic I chose for that day was God's strength in our weakness.  We began by singing "Jesus Loves Me," a song we all knew by heart.  We delved into what scripture says about God's strength and power being "made perfect in our weakness" and shared what those verses meant to us.  We explored how difficult it is to admit our weakness and related common struggles that we all have in really surrendering to God's authority, even when we know that His grace is sufficient for whatever we are facing.  Two of the gentlemen shared from the heart about how God's grace and strength had gotten them through a time of great darkness and loss in their lives...they had similar stories and one of them was especially encouraged by this brother of his who was further along in his journey of healing.  Gathering around that table on that day, I was struck by the holiness of that place.  My primary feeling when I left was "these people are just like me."

Two vastly different worlds, neither of which I would consider the place  where I "live" on a day to day basis. While I can try to offer a helping hand and a listening ear to my homeless friends, I can't truly understand what it must be like to sleep in the woods on a cold night.  While I can visit the Governor's mansion, I can only imagine what it is like to live your life in a media fishbowl and have your every move and word analyzed.  Yet, in spite of the differences in our daily environment, the things that connect us are so much more meaningful than the things that separate us.  Our common humanity, our struggle to make sense of the place where we find ourselves, to find meaning in this journey...these things make us human and draw us together.  The people with whom I shared a meal on Monday, the people with whom I shared the Word last Tuesday and again today, each and every one of them are God's beloved creation, made in His image...just like me.  The important thing for me to remember is that God loves each of us...my Monday friends AND my Tuesday friends... equally, completely, passionately. 

Mommy Guilt

Yesterday, I updated you on a couple of areas where I was finding some success.  Important things like winning my fantasy football league...more specifically, beating my sister in my fantasy football league.  Today, it is time for true confessions. 

When we decided that one of us was going to work outside the home to bring in income and one of us was going to stay home to take care of children...and then we determined that we would rather live on a business executive salary, rather than a social worker salary...I became responsible for securing the appropriate healthcare for our precious girls.  You know, taking them to the doctor and the dentist for regular check-ups, getting them their immunizations, etc.  So, mostly I have done that...particularly in the early years when I was still afraid that I was going to break them and when the peditricians were mostly still older than me.  In recent years, my husband and I have debated the importance of flu shots (he always gets one, me rarely.)  Finally, a couple of years ago, one of the girls got the flu and I vowed to get the whole family flu shots from then on.  And I did....for one whole year. 

So, here we are, another winter season upon us.  Steve and baby girl have had the flu shot.  Me and big girl have NOT had the flu shot.  The reasons for this are myriad, but all boil down to my worst habit, procrastination.  And now, guess who is miserably sick with the flu?  You got it; my sweet 15 year old is on her 4th day of fever.  In fact, she performed the last performance of her first play at her high school with a raging fever of over 102 degrees.  I feel horrible, as you might imagine and secretly hope I get the flu as well, just to share in her suffering.  Ok, that is probably a bit melodramatic, but she is SO sweet and never complains and well, I just feel awful for her!!  In reality, I know that me being sick with the flu will probably torture all of them more than me, so I am actually washing my hands until they bleed in an effort to NOT get the flu, but you get the picture!

So, here are just a few of the other things that I feel guilty about in terms of my performance as mom of these two precious girls:  I always mean to do family Advent devotions each Christmas season and don't, I want my kids to see Europe and they haven't yet and conversely, they live with way too much affluence and privilege and we spoil them, they aren't learning how to handle money in a healthy manner because we always forget to give them their allowance, they both have messy rooms and I don't stay on them and make them keep them clean and they will probably both have roommate issues in college and when they get married, I don't play enough board games with them, they don't have enough responsibility, they have too many activities, I never had them try another instrument, I let them quit piano too early, I'm not teaching them to recycle, I haven't mailed the thank you notes that I made them write after Christmas (sitting on my desk for almost a month now,) neither of them eat enough vegetables, and we totally sucked at being the Tooth Fairy.  That is just a really short list of the first things that popped into my head...I am quite sure that I could come up with another couple paragraphs if I took a little more time.

Anybody else?  Fellow mommies, what provokes your Mommy guilt? 

And no comments from any daddies about how guilt is a waste of energy and then all sorts of advice about how to fix it.  This is about venting...us girls need time to process!

Updates of Utmost Importance :-)

With the real Super Bowl coming up this weekend, I know you have all been just dying to see the picture of my trophy that I received from beating my sister in our fantasy football league championship.  I am actually quite impressed with it and have it displayed in a place of honor in our family room for the time being.  You will notice that it has an actual ball...as in real sports...on it.  Isn't this SO exciting??   Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:

Since I am following up on recent posts , you may be interested to know that I have mostly stuck to the new diet and have just about reached my goal.  Actually, I gave up on their specific recipes, but retained the most important tenets of the diet; never go more than 4 hours without eating, include a MUFA in every meal, and stick to around 400 calories per meal (4 meals per day.)  Adhering to those recommendations, along with regular exercise (4 or more times a week,) has me down to a healthier weight where my clothes fit better, I have more energy and I just generally feel better.  As I said in my earlier post, the true secret here, for me, is just being much more intentional about the kinds of food I put in my body.  Although it sounds like this is all wonderful, one of my children is complaining about the lack of some of the foods that they used to enjoy.  Since I am in charge of buying the majority of the food that enters our household, my focus on healthier choices is impacting all of them as well.  Poor things!  :-)

Our Patchwork Heritage

My daughter made this photo art from one of the pictures that she took at the Inauguration on Tuesday.  The words in the photo are from President Obama's speech.  I thought is was really cool!

This is what it says:

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

Witness to History

As most of you know, we live in the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D.C.  From the moment that Barack Obama first announced his candidacy, I told the girls that we would be attending this historic inauguration in person.  And Tuesday morning of this week, we were there with close to 2 million of our American brothers and sisters to witness arguably the most significant historical event of my lifetime up close and personally. 

  Because of the unprecedented crowds expected for the inauguration, we moved into Georgetown on Monday night.  Friends of ours were kind enough to lend us their lovely home in Georgetown, in spite of the fact that they had been offered BIG money for it!  If you don't know, Georgetown is about a 2 mile walk from the National Mall. 

We got up at 6:00 a.m., quickly dressed in MANY warm layers (picture heading for the ski slopes) and hurriedly headed to the local Starbucks on our way towards the Capitol.  As we came out of Starbucks, the soon-to-be President's motorcade sped by us on his way to that morning's prayer service. The closer we got to our destination, the more people we found ourselves walking beside until we were part of a crowd that completely filled the otherwise quiet streets of the city.  It was eerie to see the streets of D.C. with absolutely NO car traffic whatsoever!  As you can see from the picture, as we entered the Mall area, the sun was just rising.  My eyes repeatedly filled with tears as I took in the sights of the many, many joyful people surrounding the historic monuments as we all moved closer to the Capitol.  The red hatted volunteers had clearly been instructed to greet the crowds warmly and that they did!  As strangers greeted one another, many of us agreed that indeed THIS was going to be a very, very  good day.

As we walked towards the Capitol, they began to replay Sunday's We Are One concert on the Jumbotrons that lined the Mall.  One moment that I found particularly moving was the when the National Anthem began to play from the beginning of that broadcast and the many soldiers who lined the area stopped whatever they had been doing and uniformly took the position that you see in the photo (click on it to make it larger.)  In the photo you can also see that there were many, many, many potties on the Mall that day.  In fact, we later agreed that there may have actually been more than they needed!  As the owner of the smallest bladder in my family, I was very pleased with this decision by the planning committee! 

We finally decided to stop moving forward when we found ourselves about mid-way down the Mall.  For those of you who are familiar with this area, we were between the Smithsonian Castle and the Musuem of Natural History.  Although we could see the Capitol building clearly, we could only really see the staging area with binoculars.  However, the enormous Jumbotrons lining the expanse that is called the National Mall made it easy to experience the entire ceremony like you were in the front row.  When we had picked our spot, we settled down to wait.  We had filled the pockets of our ski jackets with newspapers, books, playing cards and snacks.  In addition, the girls had each downloaded a movie onto their Ipods.

The energy in the crowd was incredible!  We met people who had traveled from all over the country to be here for this momentous occasion.  People of every race and generation were represented that day and, in spite of the cold, everyone was in a great mood.  For those who also enjoy people watching, this was a front row seat to the best show in town.  As they began to introduce the dignitaries entering the grandstands, people started to get more and more energized and excited.  We were all on our feet by then and would remain on our feet for the rest of the day.

I could give you all the details of each moment as it unfolded from there, but I am sure that anyone reading this was watching the whole thing right along with us that morning.  It was a series of moments that I will never forget.  It is a morning that I hope my children will relish telling their grandchildren about someday.  By then, I hope the novelty and import of a person of African-American heritage being sworn in as president of the United States is a common place occurence.  I pray so.  But this time...this first time...it was a really important, transformational moment in the life of our country.  As a person with white skin, I can only imagine and attempt to understand the emotion that I saw on the face of the elderly African-American woman who stood next to me, tears streaming down her face.  I would guess that in her lifetime, she experienced first hand the hostility and hatred that builds separate drinking fountains and posts "white only" signs.  I don't think we can overestimate the healing that took place to our collective psyche on Tuesday morning when our nation entrusted Barack Obama with the leadership of this country.   I just hope and pray that we can take this moment and build on it into the future.  

After the ceremony was over, we began the much more difficult task of leaving the Mall.  Although we were trying to go North and West towards Georgetown, it quickly became apparent that we were only going to be allowed to go South.  After a lovely detour by the Jefferson Memorial and then the World   War II memorial, we finally found ourselves heading back to Georgetown to warm up and get something to eat.  We had no problem driving out of the city and were back at home by 4:30 that afternoon.  Obviously, we skipped the parade which lasted well past dark!

I have been talking about my support for Barack Obama here on this blog for well over a year.  I find him to be an inspirational leader unlike any I have seen, listened to or read about in my lifetime.  Based on the sheer enormity of what happened in Washington, D.C. on Tuesday, it appears that I am not alone.  Whether you voted for him or not, I believe Americans are joining together in wishing him well and praying for his success.  I appreciate that he continually reminds us that this is not about him, but about all of us joining together and believing that we can contribute to our collective well-being.  That we all have a responsibilty to be part of the solution.  As a Christian, that begins by committing to pray daily for him and his administration as they begin this journey.  Will you join me?

Thank You, Misters President

This bought tears of joy to my eyes.  These faces, these men of diverse backgrounds, ages and ethnicities, these words of what I believe to be heartfelt good wishes and genuine respect....this is what democracy is all about.

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Beloved, What Do You Want?

This morning, I was spending time with my journal.  As I have not been journaling that frequently of late, I took some time to read back through some of the more recent entries...many of which were from several months ago.  I was particularly struck by my entry last fall when we first began our last bible study.  In the first video session, Beth asked us to spend some time writing a letter to God answering Jesus' question in John 1:38.   In this passage, Jesus finds his soon-to-be new disciples trailing behind him and he turns to them and asks "What do you want?" 

What do I want?  As I pictured myself following behind Jesus, wanting to be near Him in this new year, I wondered again what I would say if He looked me in the eye and said "Beloved Child, what do you want?"  This is what I wrote in my journal last fall and I believe it is still the desire of my heart....perhaps of yours as well.

Dear Jesus-

I want You!  I want more of You...all of You, even though I know I can't even begin to comprehend a portion of Who You are.  I want to be obsessed with You....possessed by You, in the ways that I have experienced before.  Many times, I have visited that place of living completely in, by and through You.  That Spirit-filled place that makes me alive with parts of myself that I can only be in You.  Alive with creativitiy and zeal, awakened with a tender heart of love and compassion.  A place where my spirit is quiet and restful, yet energized and creative.  In this place, I can release my own agenda for Yours.  In this place, I sit back in awe and humility at the ways that You can use me.  In this place, I am aware of Your presence in each moment and I am never alone.  I live in continual relationship, love and cooperation.  I am part of Your Kingdom and I am part of the healing love, mercy and grace that You are pouring out on this broken world.  In this place, Your passions are my passions  It is the state of being for which I was created.  It is home.

Papa God, forgive my wandering.  Forgive my forgetfullness.  I want to return home.  Remind me when I choose independence that I was never meant to live this life on my own.  I was never meant to figure it out by myself.  I am Your child and You are my God.  What do I want, You ask?  I want You.  I want to come home.

New Year's Resolutions or Flat Bellied Sassiness

Like most of America, judging by the morning television programs, I have decided to kick off the new year by going on a diet.  I am also, as always, resolving to pray more, write more, exercise more and read more, but the diet thing is new for me. Through absolutely no fault or virtue of my own, one of the blessings of my particular bag of genetic goodies WAS a tendency to stay thin fairly easily.  Instead of issues with my weight, I was blessed with a tendency towards headaches and stomach problems, premature graying and a HUGE mouth that frequently gets me in trouble.  Hey, we all have our thing, right?  Anyway, I apologize to my friends who have struggled with weight issues all their lives.  I don't mean to make light of it, I know it is a tremendous burden for many people.  For me, it's just one more "special" part of being in my 40's. 

Anyway, here we are in 2009 and I am on my first diet.  For those of you who are being judgmental about my need to lose any weight, here is my reasoning: we all need to learn to eat healthier, 10 (ok, maybe 15)extra pounds this year turns into 20 pounds next year, and my fabulous, expensive skinny jeans look ridiculous on me right now.   My clothes don't fit and I am tired of it.  While Spanx are a lifesaver, you can really only go so far with power undergarments.  I have been exercising faithfully for a couple of years, but apparently I am also going to have to eat differently now as well.  Luckily, I pigged out and ballooned up so much over Christmas that I ought to see immediate results from a return to any semblance of normal eating.

SO, three of my girlfriends and I are jumping on the bandwagon of the latest fad diet, the Flat Belly Diet   We have books, websites, flax seed oil and Sassy Water.  More than that, we have each other and, except for the fact that we are all starving to death, we are having a blast!  Numerous emails and phone calls a day, we have successfully survived 2 WHOLE DAYS together!  Do I look skinnier yet?  My daughters think we need hand signals or a secret handshake or something for our little club. 

Here is what I have learned so far;

I do a lot of unconscious eating.  It has been amazing to see the number of times a day that I have an impulse to grab a handful of something and put it in my mouth...whether I am hungry or not.  Because I am now choosing NOT to act on that impulse, I am acutely aware of it for the first time. 

I am reminded of how important it is to have others to encourage you and hold you accountable when you are trying to make a change in your life.  Someone who is NOT your husband.  This is a job for girlfriends.  Girlfriends who will talk to you numerous times a day about eating unsalted sunflower seeds AND shop with you for new fabulous skinny jeans when you reach your goal.  By the way, the sunflower seeds are better mixed into applesauce.

Any diet, system, plan is only good because it gives structure to what you are trying to do.  There are no magic bullets or quick fixes.  Just like I get more out of my bible study time when I am doing a formal study with other people, using a formal diet is a way to be intentional and focused about the way I eat.  While this diet has many claims, I'm sure the success is found when people eat less and exercise more...just the way it has always worked. 

We all agree that fruit smoothies are MUCH better with ice cream in them.

But then again, I could be wrong about all of it because I am really hungry and probably not thinking clearly!  :-)  Except for the last thing, I am DEFINITELY right about that!

To The Women With Whom I Share This Journey

A friend sent the link to this video to me today.  It is a woman talking about going through life with her girlfriends.  It was and is SO very worth the five minutes that it takes to watch it.  As I watched it, I thought of all the women God has placed in my life and how I have been and continue to be blessed by sharing this journey with them.  Going through the recent death of my father, I have been moved to tears repeatedly by the depth of love and support that I have received from my sister-friends.  I will stop now and let you watch the video.  As I watch the video again, I will thank God for each and every one of you...you know who you are.

Sister Bowl 2008

As I have mentioned before, I have a fantasy football team.  I began playing fantasy football a couple of years ago after I watched from the sidelines during my husband's first season the year before and fell in love with the game.  My brother started a league in his neighborhood in 2006 and graciously allowed my sister and I to join in the fun.  So, here is the news flash: last night, I WON the championship of my league!!!

Yes, Hot Lips Houlihan...this year's team names are 70s TV show characters...beat Bionic Woman last night for the championship!  The best part is that Bionic Woman's team owner is my very competitive sister, Karen.  Karen, who does crazy things like train for marathons and teach exercise classes that last for an hour and a half and begin with a WARM-UP of a 2 mile run, does not like to lose at anything.  There is not one single sporting event where I could even remotely compete with her.  So it is extremely fun to beat her in fantasy football!  AND, rumor has it, I get a trophy!  Considering that I would cry when we played dodge ball in P.E. and once got knocked out cold playing Red Rover (seriously, I did,) I do not have many trophies.  Ok, I actually do have ONE trophy, but it involved a contest in a bar for a sorority charity competition in college and I only won cause Steve put the most money in the jar that determined the winner.  And I am NOT telling you what it says on it.  Let's just say that, should I enter that contest today, I would NOT win it.

Anyway, back to my trophy for a pseudo athletic event.  How cool is that?  And here is another fun thing about it; I barely made it into the playoffs.  My season record was only 6-7, but I was still one of the best 8 teams in the league...barely.  Under the heading of irony of ironies, I beat Bionic Woman last night primarily because of the spectacular performance of one DeAngelo Williams who she traded to me in Week 9.  With the advice of my General Manager of Personnel (Steve,) I countered a trade offer Karen made with one that Steve advised me might just win me the championship.  Karen, who was leading the league all season, had a bench full of spectacular players and she wanted my Brian Westbrook...the only player I had that scored any points.  I said no at first, but Steve encouraged me to look for more balance by giving up one magical player for a number of solid players.  The rest, as they say, is history.  Westbrook only scored 11 points for Karen last night.  Tee Hee Hee!

So kids, what is the lesson learned here by this exciting underdog, David vs. Goliath victory?  I imagine it involves a number of cliches, like "don't ever give up" or "it's not over, until it's over," but I fear for me it probably means that I should listen to Steve more often.  Shhhh, don't tell him I said that!