Seeking Him

These Boots are Made for Walking...

I have been leading bible study at a day shelter for poor and homeless individuals on Tuesday afternoons since the summer of 2008.  When I first started leading bible study at the Lamb Center, I would prepare my lessons with great attention and careful detail.  I would arrive with an outline of pertinent scriptures to explore and a list of corresponding questions for each scripture.  As I began to have a deeper understanding and love for the community in which I was serving, it became more and more clear that my illusion of control was just that…an illusion.  While I still spend time in preparation, I have come to understand that in many ways, I am just a passenger along for the ride.  And often, it is a very exciting ride!  I am definitely NOT the one in charge. 

This morning, I was reminded of the many places in scripture that it talks about various characters who “walked with God.”.  I particularly connected with one of the author’s descriptions of what it means to walk with God.   She said to walk with God is to “live continually God-aware.”  As I meditated on that concept, I thought about the places and spaces in my life where I already “live continually God-aware” and those places where I might benefit from a greater adherence to that practice.  On Tuesday afternoons at the Lamb Center, I have learned to “live continually God-aware.”  The staff there live that way every day and they are wonderful teachers.

When I began serving at the Lamb Center, I was quickly faced with the awareness….perhaps a better word would be certainty….that I could not do this thing using only my feeble bag of tricks.  My collective wisdom, training, experience and gifts were woefully insufficient.  What wisdom or solace could a middle aged mom with plenty of money in the bank have to offer to someone who was living in the woods and was overwhelmed by despair?  In all honesty, how dare I presume that my words would mean anything in that context?  Yet, because of a series of circumstances, I knew I was supposed to be there and so I went.  At first, I went with a flurry of preparation and planning.  Eventually, I went with a handful of scripture and eyes wide open to see what God was going to do with it.  Like the young boy who offered up his meager lunch of a loaf of bread and a couple of fish, sometimes I feel like more of an observer to the miracles than a participant.

Sometimes during bible study, things seem to be careening out of control.  Perhaps we have more than the usual number of guests who are struggling with mental health issues or are experiencing overwhelming fear or anger.  During those times, I I have learned to get very quiet and listen very carefully; as if my guide on the path has held up His hand as an indication that I should pause.   Sometimes, in that moment, one of the quieter guests will chime in with words of such wisdom and clarity and kindness that I offer a prayer of thanksgiving to God that He put a hand over my mouth at that moment.  Sometimes, I feel a gentle tug on my heart to ask a different question that might lead us down an alternative path- a question that I hadn’t thought of before that moment.  One day, when I saw us heading down a path that I was certain led directly off a cliff, one of our precious guests was reminded of a song and so I asked her to teach it to us and we sang it together.  Because I am no longer attached to my agenda or under the delusion that I am in control, I have been able to witness and experience God work miracles.  But I MUST listen and be willing to be flexible.  And I am personally blessed and changed every week by my fellow sojourners and the ways that God uses them to teach me.

Here’s the thing:  I KNOW I can’t fix anybody at the Lamb Center, so I don’t even try.  I can’t orchestrate their healing or get them housing or keep them sober or undo the pain they have suffered in their life.  So I lean in and follow the one who CAN do those things.  His timing is often not what I would choose and the path He takes often looks like the long way around.  But after 6 years of traveling this road, I am convinced He knows what He is doing and so I spend my days there “living continually God-aware” expecting to see miracles, in spite of myself.

When I walk through the doors of the Lamb Center now, I am blindingly aware of God at work.  With this awareness of God’s presence and provision, I often stumble upon unexpected treasures and wind up following paths I hadn’t planned.  “Living continually God-aware” in this context means seeing the people and situations I encounter as sacred and knowing that God is present in the midst of them.  Each conversation is holy, each person (including me) a sacred work in progress.  Even the ugly and difficult, when seen through God eyes, is somehow a reminder to breath deep and lean into my much stronger and wiser walking Companion like a sturdy walking stick.  Because the situations there are often difficult and the resources are limited, we have no choice but to trust that our Guide is capable and knows the way.    

But here is my point: (FINALLY, you say!)  I don’t want to only walk with God on Tuesday afternoons.  If I am honest, much of my life is out of my direct control, isn’t it?  While I can control my attitude and how I spend my time, I cannot control the people, places or things around me.  I have no idea what the future holds, so wouldn't it be to my benefit to walk with God all week long?  To live every day "continutally God-aware?"  What lessons learned on Tuesday afternoons might I take into the rest of the week?

Perhaps these are a few of the things I am learning:

• Acknowledge that someone else knows the path better than I do.
• Prepare for the journey, but remember someone else is in charge.
• Follow the Guide and listen for directions.
• Pause along the way and notice the beauty of the walk. 
• Be aware of and grateful for the sacred and holy that cross my path, seeing that potential for sacredness and holiness in everything and everyone.
• Be willing to take detours and even to follow the “road less traveled.” 

Proverbs 3:5-6 (ESV)

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding.  In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.

 

 

What Do You DO?

I am a chronic, mostly unapologetic over-explainer.

I tend to go into slightly more detail than technically necessary when purchasing an item at a store, ordering my food at a restaurant, paying for my groceries, talking to the doctor or pretty much any interaction with other human beings.  I make a lot of new friends this way, but I also frequently embarrass my husband and children.  In an attempt not to over explain this, here are just a very few examples:

If you receive a gift from me, you are also likely to get a potentially long winded explanation of why I chose that particular gift, what I considered as an alternative, where I sought to purchase said gift, where I eventually found the gift and even, possibly, instructions on how to correctly use your gift.

My daughter and I visited Ann Taylor Loft one day searching for a pair of business-like dress pants for her to wear as a character in a play.  In our quest to find just the right pair of black pants for her character, I felt it might be helpful if I told the poor unsuspecting sales lady the entire plot of the play.  Thankfully, it was just a one act!

And perhaps my family’s favorite, I once told a waitress that my husband was having a colonoscopy in a couple days by way of explaining why we were ordering a particular modification to our flatbread.  Bless. Her. Heart.  I wish I had a picture of her face....or my husband's....or my daughter and her boyfriend's....

ANYWAY, why this confession?  Because knowing this little tidbit about my character, you will see the conundrum when someone asks me the question, “What do you do?”

I remember when I decided to retire from paid employment right before my youngest daughter was born.  One of the things with which I initially struggled was how to answer the question “What do you do?”  I often went into an unasked for recitation of my resume; the degrees and certifications I had earned, the kind of work I had done in the past, my last position as a clinical social worker in private practice, before finally saying that I was now home with my kids doing the mommy thing. 

Truly, I was not embarrassed or conflicted or even ambivalent (ok, maybe a little ambivalent) about our choice for me to stay home with our kids.  I have never once regretted the decision.  However, at least at the beginning, I had a hard time with the idea of that being my entire identity.  I had worked hard to build my career and I had achieved some success.  I loved my work and I took pride in what I did.  Truth be told, at that point, I was still feeling somewhat over my head and out of my element as a parent.  If I had been a little bolder at the stage of the journey, I would have answered that question by simply saying “trying to keep these two kids alive without them having too much material to talk about in therapy once they are adults..”  We were totally making it up as we went along and I wasn't sure I was going to be very good at it.

Fast forward 18 or so years and here I am again in transition. We did it!  Through the grace of God, a lot of prayer, and a slightly twisted sense of humor, we have managed to raise these two amazing individuals to adulthood.  Too soon to say how much fodder they have for the therapist couch, but they are wonderful human beings and I am proud of whatever contributions I might have made in the process.  They are, in some ways, my finest work to date.  Now they are both off on their amazing adventures, making their own decisions, and equipping themselves for what I’m sure will be lives of meaning and purpose.  I adore them and I have treasured my front row seat in their journey thus far.But that question.  Once again, I find myself often faced with that question.  “What do you do?”

Well, kind sir or madam, I’m not too sure yet.  May I give you a list of my training, job experience, volunteer work, personality traits, the causes I support, my hobbies, my passions, my talents, my loves?  I know I SAID in my previous post that I was giving myself time and permission to BE STILL, but it has already been like 3 whole weeks of this empty nest thing.  Now what am I going to DO?

But here is some really good news that I’ve learned since I was first struggling with this question 18 years ago: I know that as a follower of Jesus, that it is not what I DO that gives me my value, my worth, my identity, my purpose.  I am so much more than what I DO.  If I taught them nothing else, I hope I taught my girls that our value and the value of everyone around us is in our identity as children of God.  I don’t need to DO anything except say YES to be the recipient of that incredible, healing, fulfilling, extravagant Love.  In Him, I am complete, I am enough, I am loved.  I truly believe this to be Truth with a capital T and that knowledge does help me as I wrestle with these questions once again.  However, I also believe that my identity as a child of God is both a blessing and a responsibility.  In gratitude for the grace I have received, I am compelled to DO something with my life, to fulfill my calling, to be a blessing to someone else and to use my gifts and talents for the Kingdom.  The question now is what that might look like in this next season of my life.

But do you think that maybe the two paragraphs above are a bit too much explaining if someone asks me “What do you do?”  :-)

Remix: More Thoughts from An Empty Nest

Yesterday morning, while watching a video with a large group of women, I was surprised to find that I had tears running down my face.  Luckily, one of my dear ones sitting behind me noticed my tears and kindly and quietly handed me a tissue.   Have you ever had the experience when you hear something that resonates with you so deeply…that feels so TRUE…that it literally takes your breath away for a moment?

This isn’t the first time I’ve had that experience while listening to Beth Moore teach on a video screen.  I started her newest study yesterday and, as always, felt like I was reconnecting with a well-loved old friend.   Beth inspires me with her joy in the Lord and her passion for His Word and I am grateful for her impact in my life. 

To make a long story shorter (I seldom say anything “short,”) Beth was talking about loss yesterday.  She was talking about seasons of life where we get comfortable; we like our activities, our group of closest confidantes, our daily routine.  We know who we are and what to do.   And then something happens that blows it up and leaves a gaping hole.  The Greek word was paroxusmos.  And blowing stuff up or being near an explosion can hurt like hell.

For the past 2 decades, my life has largely been characterized by being Alex and Brooke’s mom and by serving in ministry and leadership at our church.  This is what I did every day, but it was also who I was to a large degree.    Thankfully, God pushed me out of my comfort zone once before several years ago, and my ministry at the Lamb Center became the third leg of that tripod.   Through a series of circumstances, both wonderful and difficult, 2 of those 3 came to an abrupt end this summer.   And I’m finding myself feeling a little wobbly as a result.

Don’t get me wrong, I KNOW full well that I am still Alex and Brooke’s mom and I always will be.  I talk (ok, text) with them both frequently and I look forward to them coming home for Christmas and summer breaks.  But honestly, it is just different, isn’t it?

See if this makes sense: the relationship I have with them as individuals continues and hopefully deepens and grows, but the sense of this being “what I do” is irrevocably altered.   For years, being their mom and all that entailed was my purpose, my job, and my focus.  It was how I ordered my days and chose my activities.  I went on mission trips with the student ministry to serve with my girls and to teach them that they are blessed to bless others.  Because of their passion for theater, I was the head Drama Mama and threw myself wholeheartedly into the work of the drama department.  I scheduled my days to be there when they got home to hear all about their day at school or their rehearsal.  I bought food for their friends and invested in their lives too, so that our house often became the destination gathering place.   I loved “my job.”

I’m rambling a bit today, but let me stop for a moment and say that I’m not entirely sure that this singular focus is always completely healthy (fodder for another post perhaps,) but I know it is not unique to me.  While I tried to balance my focus by serving in various aspects of ministry, being mom was still my primary calling.  The online parent groups in which I participate are talking about this, in addition to my group of women friends.  People are hurting.  The overwhelming response I got from my last post on the empty nest was testament to the fact that people are not quite sure how to deal with this transition and others like it.  So I keep writing about it, in hopes that my out-loud processing will bless someone else and keep the conversation going.  My therapy, if you will...

So, back to the moment of connection that I experienced in yesterday’s video.  Beth gave me some new language yesterday that I have been thinking about ever since.   She suggested that God will help us fill the holes left behind in seasons of loss and change by doing a “Remix.”  I looked up the word Remix online and a couple of the definitions really struck a chord with me (excuse the pun:)

• to use some of the same materials, allowing the song to reach a different audience
• to alter a song for artistic purposes
• to provide additional versions of a song for use as bonus tracks

 Don’t you love that picture, hurting empty nest mamas?  Our lives are being remixed because God has a new audience in mind for us.  I suggested the metaphor of the empty canvas the other day and I love that this idea of a Remix takes that a little deeper.  God is working on a new masterpiece and we have the privilege of being co-creators. We are not done yet!  Those same notes God used to help us guide our children into adulthood will now be used to sing a slightly different song for a new audience.  Carefully crafted notes of unconditional love, encouragement, compassion, patience, humor, organization, multi-tasking, and creativity are never wasted.  Those were hard earned skills learned in the trenches of parenting and now we have the opportunity to use them in a new and different way; new jobs, new volunteer opportunities, and perhaps most importantly, new relationships.  I’m not completely clear just how that will look, but I’m getting more and more excited by the prospects.  I am starting to look forward to the Bonus Tracks, how about you?

“Sing to Him a new song.  Play well with loud sounds of joy.”  Psalm 33:3

 

 

 

Sweet Irony and Dirty Dishes

I can not count the number of times that I have stood at the door to one of my children’s bedrooms and thought, with parental self-loathing, “I have totally failed as a parent.  This child will never, ever be able to live in civilized society.”

I’m sure that you, dear reader, have much better trained children.  However, for those of you who can relate to my sense of despair, I hope you will take heart and that one day you too will have a text conversation with your child like the one I am about to describe.

In case you are uncomfortable with me sharing the details of a private conversation with my offspring, this is the same child who regularly took screenshots of our text conversations and tweeted them out to the whole Twitter world….at least until I caught her and threatened to take away her smart phone that I pay for and replace it with a “stupid” phone.  Plus, she is in a really good mood right now because she just got cast in her first college play.  And even she knew it was funny.  So she won’t mind, I swear.

Just to give you some context, when this particular child has something important to say or is feeling strong emotion, I get texts containing ALL CAPITAL LETTERS!  And lots of exclamation marks!!!!!!!  And very little punctuation.  I received one of these texts last week regarding her frustration with her messy suitemates.  I won’t quote verbatim, but it went something like this:

Frustrated Offspring: “NOONE WILL CLEAN EXCEPT FOR ME I AM SO DONE HOW HARD IS IT TO CLEAN YOUR DISHES AS SOON AS YOU USE THEM WHY IS THAT SO HARD”

(So, you can see my dilemma.  Clearly, the child is distressed and needs to feel heard.  But SERIOUSLY…)

What I said:  “Wow, that must be so frustrating!  It takes some adjusting to learn to live in community…blah, blah, blah….insert supportive Mom speak here.”

What I thought:  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Furstrated Offspring: “I SWEAR I AM NOT, NOT, NOT  DOING THE DISHES ANYMORE.  THEY CAN JUST SIT THERE.  I AM DONE” (insert additional ranting and outrage here)

What I said: “Have you shared with them how you are feeling?  Here are some possible solutions: learn to ignore the mess and not let it bother you, continue to do the dishes as an act of love and service without expecting anything in return, murder them all in their sleep….”

What I thought: Good luck with that!  I tried them all…

Slightly calmer, but still outraged offspring:  “It is amazing.  They agree to do their dishes but then they just put them in the sink like they just EXPECT that someone else will come along and do them!”

(Notice that due to my calm, loving demeanor, my listening ear and my gentle, playful and even humorous suggestions, the capital letters have stopped at this point in the conversation.)

What I said:  Nothing, I was speechless for a moment.  Doesn’t happen often and it generally passes quickly, but you can see my amazement at the beauty of this situation.

What I thought:  This. Is. The. Best. There is justice in the universe.

But finally, I just can’t resist.

What I said, and I quote: “The irony of this conversation is just astounding.”

Capital Letters Again Offspring:  “MOM, I KNOW! THOUGH YOU ARE MY MOMMY SO IT DOESN’T COUNT”

What I said: ROFL

And then I said, and meant every word: “You are adorable, I love you and I wish you were here to leave dirty dishes in my sink.”

But I do kinda love college.

Thoughts from the Empty Nest

It appears that I have survived week one of my empty nest relatively unscathed.

A few weeks ago, I found myself with tears in my eyes at the grocery store because the milk I was placing in my cart had an expiration date of September 5^th.  "They will both be gone on September 5^th," I thought to myself sorrowfully.  The milk’s expiration seemed to eerily coincide with the dissolution of my family…foolish, of course, but that’s how it felt in those last emotional weeks.

The last few weeks of preparation for my youngest daughter Brooke’s move to Boston and big sister Alex’s move to London were bittersweet.  Lots of quality time together shopping, planning and packing.  Even an impromptu trip to Cape Cod with Alex on our way home from dropping Brooke off in Boston.  The anticipation of saying goodbye was in many ways worse than the actual goodbye when it finally arrived.  At some level, it was really a relief when we were all settled in our new or much quieter homes.

So here I am.  After 20 years of hands on parenting, my babies have flown the nest and are off having wonderful adventures in far off places.  I am pleased to say that they are both doing well.  In spite of an occasional pang of homesickness, they love their new homes away from home and I love to hear about them making friends, enjoying classes and exploring their new cities.  That knowledge gives me an enormous amount of peace.   So now that I helped them get settled, what’s next for me?  Because of the financial security that my husband's job provides, I am blessed to not have to go out immediately and earn an income, so what will I do instead with this space left behind?

I remember the year that both girls were finally in school full time.  After 7 years in the trenches of babies/toddlers/ preschoolers, what would I ever do with all this free time?  What I did was run out and sign up for WAY too many things.  Room mom for both girls classes, new stuff at church, etc….but I had so much free time, right?  It quickly became apparent that I had over booked and over committed and over reached my personal capacity for juggling.  Trust me, I am NOT a very good juggler.  That was the year I learned to say no.  Looking back on that time, I think there were lessons learned then that might just be applicable for me now:

• Take time to pause and breathe.  After my experience, I have often counseled moms coming behind me to not to commit to anything new that first fall.  Making it through to that stage of parenting is a big accomplishment.  Job well done, mama!  It’s ok to take a moment to reflect, to regroup, to refresh and to renew.  I jumped so quickly into being elementary school mama that I didn’t take time to enjoy the quiet in my house.  It is ok to enjoy the quiet.  And it is ok to do some things for yourself before you immediately jump into the next thing.  In this new season, I am remembering that lesson, with reminders from my husband.  It is ok for me to take a moment now to reflect on the journey to this point and take a deep breath and just be still for a bit.  Since my self-esteem has often been directly tied to what I am accomplishing, sitting still can be difficult.  I am giving myself some time to be still and catch my breath.  Praying is the only way I can do that well. 
• Take time to grieve.  For some moms, it might also be important to take time to grieve.  Frankly, I didn’t miss having babies and toddlers.  I liked it when my kids got big enough to have a conversation with them.  But I am grieving this time.  I miss them terribly and I miss being the mom of high schoolers.  I liked their friends hanging around,  I liked the activities with which I was involved at the high school.  I liked hearing what was happening with all their friends and hearing about their day and bearing daily witness to them growing, evolving, changing and becoming.  I miss knowing them every day.  And so I have given myself permission to be sad for a little while and to cry sometimes.  As a person who is more likely to cry at a Hallmark commercial than about my own life, my tears annoy me a little and they kind of freak out my husband who keeps looking at me like I might break or spontaneously combust.  But luckily we have a sense of humor about this transition and I am learning to be gentle with myself in the process.  Being happy for them and being sad that they don’t live with me anymore are not mutually exclusive.  I hear so many parents say “it would be selfish of me to be sad when I am so happy for them and proud of what they have accomplished.”  As human beings we can have more than one feeling at a time, even feelings that seem contradictory.  Yes, it helps that they are happy where they are, but I still miss them and that’s ok.  Trust me, I have all sorts of degrees in this stuff. :-)  I also have to remember that every person experiences these transitions differently and there is no “right” way to feel, so it does me no good to compare my journey to someone else in a way that makes mine better or worse. 
• Take time to reconnect.  The space, time and energy that once was occupied by that child can now be diverted elsewhere.  Last time, I diverted that time and energy into more activities.  This time, I want to choose connection.  My husband is both excited and terrified by the prospect of my attention being focused on him now.  If you have seen the Lord of the Rings movies, we liken my focus to the eye of Sauron…..mesmerizing and terrifying when it locks on to you.  Brooke experienced it when Alex left for college, now it is Steve’s turn.  I am being playful, but I am excited about the opportunity to reconnect with my husband who often felt like he was low man on the totem pole of my affections during certain phases of our childrearing years.  I am also looking forward to spending more time with other loved ones: more evenings and weekends with couples we enjoy, more dinners with girlfriends, more trips to visit far away family.  I remember the joy of meeting a friend for lunch when my girls were first in school all day.  Now that time has expanded exponentially.  Time with loved ones feeds my spirit like nothing else and I feel blessed to have this time to reconnect.  One of the most healing things I have done in this process was to spend time with other mamas going through these transitions.  Other mamas just get it.
• Take time to dream new dreams.  This is the exciting part and maybe the scary part too.  I am starting to think about this new phase differently, more of an empty canvas, rather than an empty nest.  I am enjoying sleeping a little later.  I am enjoying running the dishwasher once or twice a week instead of daily.  I am laughing at the lack of laundry and mess and noise (and will celebrate and cherish it when it returns in December and again in May.)  I am cleaning out cabinets and throwing away clutter.  I am reading books I have been meaning to read.  I might learn to play the piano or take voice lessons again.  I signed up for the Storyline Conference in late October, including a full day Writers Workshop…a decision which I find both exhilarating and terrifying.  I am tagging along on trips with my husband, just because I can. I am exploring a new church and the potential there for new places to serve and grow and connect.  I am writing again.  I am digging deeper into the activities which I am carrying over from my pre-empty nest life and deciding where my gifts, talents and passions might be leading me to serve going forward.  I am listening patiently to God for His direction, guidance and permission.  I am deciding what I want to be when I grow up this time.

So friends in transition, how are you “taking time” in this next phase of life?  How are you embracing the change you find yourself in?  I would love to hear your ideas!