I was watching basketball on T.V. yesterday while running on the treadmill (and also reading a book about the human microbiome, checking in on Clash of Clans and texting my team manager to clear up an issue with our TeamSnap account....because certainly it is not wasting time if I am filling it with five different activities at once, right?)
Now, most of you know I love soccer. I have also learned to appreciate American football and NHL over the years, but I have never cared much for basketball. (Thank you Liam for constantly exposing me....as if, like taste buds, that might one day change.)
At any rate, as I was watching this bunch of incredibly fit men run back and forth, taking shots and getting in each other's way, the commentator made the statement: "Look how well he created space there."
A bell went off in my head. As a coach, how many times do I ask my players: what is the importance of all these moves; the change of direction moves, feints, stops and starts? What do these skills do for you?
I ask them repeatedly.
Those that listen know: they create space.
In sports, as in life, we need space to maneuver. And for the most part, it is up to us to create that space. It won't be created for us. More than likely, without conscious work toward creating space, we will be overwhelmed with stuff, with things to do, with responsibilities, with opponents that can overtake us and our time, in one way or another. As I tell my soccer players, plowing through your opponent does not usually work out that well. Making space, however, even if it means changing directions, or stopping and starting again, can put you in the position to move forward and make things happen.
Practicing the disciplines of Lent affords us the opportunity to create space, to allow for the giving up of that which distracts and pulls and tempts and consumes and overwhelms; that which blocks us from our purpose and a steadfast relationship with God. (And no, fasting from parenting duties for Lent is not an option, as space-creating as that might sound.....)
For my family, making room this year means fasting from wastefulness, purging ourselves of worldly clutter, that we may be open to the Divine. It means clearing out that which we do not use in order to create space for the stuff we do. (Man, I hate it when my husband is right!) It means saving our calorie intake for calories that fuel and sustain, not inflame and destroy, the temple that is our body. It means using time on activities that honor our gifts rather than drain us of life. It means living with the discomfort of vacancy, not relentlessly filling the void as soon as possible, as we have done time and time again. It means clearing out to allow God to move within.
We recognize there will be days of success, as well as moments we fall flat on our faces, and some days will include a little of both....but no matter what, we keep coming back to the table, to remove the junk so that we may have room for the Bread of Life.
Try, try again, they say.
Just show up, I say.
Follow me, Jesus says.
And then stop doing what you have always done and make space.
And in your showing up and space-making, your fasting and following, know that nothing we do (or don't do) could ever be enough. And that is the point.
“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God — not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8-9)
2.17.2016
2.16.2016
Grace-Full Chickens
...it is easier to see these spiritual deformities in others than in oneself.....But to spot it in one's self is not only difficult but painful, and no one wants to take the descending path to that naked, unvarnished truth, with all its unacceptable humiliations. It is much more comfortable to stay on the level of plain and ordinary, to go on being just plain and ordinary. Yet it is to this path that Lent invites us.
-- Edna Hong, excerpt from Bread and Wine
I will admit, I often struggle with living a plain and ordinary life. Day in and day out, I do the laundry, prepare the meals, do the dishes, watch the kids (sometimes even wash the kids) and drive, drive, drive, drive, drive, only to come home to more cooking and cleaning and watching and waiting and yearning for that "something more" that I have imagined "should" be my life.
And so I try to fill that void....with kids, with the chickens and the cats, rabbits, dog, and let's not forget the darn one-eyed duck, Bingo, and his fearless body guard, Dawson. I am continually creating something that allows me to be a sustainer of life outside of my own; something that allows me to take part in this beautiful cycle in a hands-on, tangible way. Something that stirs in me excitement, and calms that inner restlessness.
Yet still, there is a sense of longing......longing to do, or be, something more; more than someone's wife or mom or friend or coach or caretaker or driver..... This discontent is the feeling of incompleteness, as if I am missing some vital link to the life I am called to be living, as if there is some great disconnect that I simply have not worked out.
And let's face it, I am a pretty lousy housekeeper, an average mom at best (I think Kurt coined the term benign neglect in reference to my parenting style.....I see it as creating resilient, resourceful kids personally but call it what you will....it seems to work just fine for the chickens, perhaps the kids should glean some pointers from their fowl-feathered friends!) and as for the rest, I certainly cannot claim fame and glory for any of it, not that I am seeking either.
Then enters Lent. And the snow comes down, the school closes, the house fills with busy-ness, the cats jump onto the counters, the bunnies continue to plot their escape, the ducks make a wreck of their home, now covered in ice from the water they cannot seem to keep contained in their excitement..... excitement over water alone....
And the chickens......Oh, the chickens! I honestly do not know how people handle the journey into the depths of their failings without chickens. You see, each and every day, my chickens remind me that Easter is! Every, single, day. Even in this pre-Easter journey, even in the wandering, the searching, the fasting, the failing, the hope, the despair, the longing, yearning, waiting, wishing, doing, being.....each and every day, in the showing up.....it is Easter.
We are a post-Easter people.....at least, we are called to be. We stretch ourselves in Lent, we search our selves, we wrestle with our selves, with God and then come back full circle to the place we started, seeing ourselves, and grace, through new eyes....or as T.S. Eliot so eloquently put it: We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
*****
(SPOILER ALERT)
At the lake retreat, we watched the movie, "How to Train your Dragon 2" in which the main character, Hiccup, finds his mom, Valka. For twenty years he lived under the mistaken belief that she was dead. But then he finds her, living amongst the dragons in a dragon sanctuary; a dragon whisperer so to speak.
As the scene unfolds with this incredibly wild mom, her dragons, the reconnection with her child, the seeking of forgiveness, this is the dialogue that transpires:
Hiccup: This is where you've been for twenty years? ..... You've been rescuing dragons?....Unbelievable.
Valka: You're not upset?
Hiccup: What? No! I....I don't know. I....Well, it's a bit much to get my head around, to be frank. It's not every day you find out your mother is some kind of.....crazy, feral, vigilante dragon lady.
Valka: Oh......well, at least I'm not boring right?
Kurt pats me on the head and says, "Hey, it's you!"
And it occurred to me that perhaps THIS is why my kids were so adamant that I watch this movie with them.....they recognized their mom in this "dragon lady" (insert chicken for dragon and it's hard not to see their point) and they saw how accepting her for who she was, and the forgiveness that followed, brought reconciliation and peace. And perhaps they saw in me that need to be forgiven, too.
In Lent, we are an Easter people, hanging in the balance between what we know to be true, what we learn to be true and what we hope to be true.....a journey that brings us back to where we started, armed with a new understanding of ourselves and of our continual need for grace.
Edna Hong summed it up perfectly in her writing: But the spirit of truth does not seek comfort. The purpose of Lent is not to escape the conscience, but to create a healthy hatred for evil, a heartfelt contrition for sin, and a passionately felt need for grace.
May we all be as passionate about our need for grace as we are about our chickens.....whatever your chickens may be.
-- Edna Hong, excerpt from Bread and Wine
I will admit, I often struggle with living a plain and ordinary life. Day in and day out, I do the laundry, prepare the meals, do the dishes, watch the kids (sometimes even wash the kids) and drive, drive, drive, drive, drive, only to come home to more cooking and cleaning and watching and waiting and yearning for that "something more" that I have imagined "should" be my life.
And so I try to fill that void....with kids, with the chickens and the cats, rabbits, dog, and let's not forget the darn one-eyed duck, Bingo, and his fearless body guard, Dawson. I am continually creating something that allows me to be a sustainer of life outside of my own; something that allows me to take part in this beautiful cycle in a hands-on, tangible way. Something that stirs in me excitement, and calms that inner restlessness.
Yet still, there is a sense of longing......longing to do, or be, something more; more than someone's wife or mom or friend or coach or caretaker or driver..... This discontent is the feeling of incompleteness, as if I am missing some vital link to the life I am called to be living, as if there is some great disconnect that I simply have not worked out.
And let's face it, I am a pretty lousy housekeeper, an average mom at best (I think Kurt coined the term benign neglect in reference to my parenting style.....I see it as creating resilient, resourceful kids personally but call it what you will....it seems to work just fine for the chickens, perhaps the kids should glean some pointers from their fowl-feathered friends!) and as for the rest, I certainly cannot claim fame and glory for any of it, not that I am seeking either.
Then enters Lent. And the snow comes down, the school closes, the house fills with busy-ness, the cats jump onto the counters, the bunnies continue to plot their escape, the ducks make a wreck of their home, now covered in ice from the water they cannot seem to keep contained in their excitement..... excitement over water alone....
And the chickens......Oh, the chickens! I honestly do not know how people handle the journey into the depths of their failings without chickens. You see, each and every day, my chickens remind me that Easter is! Every, single, day. Even in this pre-Easter journey, even in the wandering, the searching, the fasting, the failing, the hope, the despair, the longing, yearning, waiting, wishing, doing, being.....each and every day, in the showing up.....it is Easter.
 |
| A colorful, daily reminder! |
We are a post-Easter people.....at least, we are called to be. We stretch ourselves in Lent, we search our selves, we wrestle with our selves, with God and then come back full circle to the place we started, seeing ourselves, and grace, through new eyes....or as T.S. Eliot so eloquently put it: We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
*****
(SPOILER ALERT)
At the lake retreat, we watched the movie, "How to Train your Dragon 2" in which the main character, Hiccup, finds his mom, Valka. For twenty years he lived under the mistaken belief that she was dead. But then he finds her, living amongst the dragons in a dragon sanctuary; a dragon whisperer so to speak.
As the scene unfolds with this incredibly wild mom, her dragons, the reconnection with her child, the seeking of forgiveness, this is the dialogue that transpires:
Hiccup: This is where you've been for twenty years? ..... You've been rescuing dragons?....Unbelievable.
Valka: You're not upset?
Hiccup: What? No! I....I don't know. I....Well, it's a bit much to get my head around, to be frank. It's not every day you find out your mother is some kind of.....crazy, feral, vigilante dragon lady.
Valka: Oh......well, at least I'm not boring right?
Kurt pats me on the head and says, "Hey, it's you!"
And it occurred to me that perhaps THIS is why my kids were so adamant that I watch this movie with them.....they recognized their mom in this "dragon lady" (insert chicken for dragon and it's hard not to see their point) and they saw how accepting her for who she was, and the forgiveness that followed, brought reconciliation and peace. And perhaps they saw in me that need to be forgiven, too.
In Lent, we are an Easter people, hanging in the balance between what we know to be true, what we learn to be true and what we hope to be true.....a journey that brings us back to where we started, armed with a new understanding of ourselves and of our continual need for grace.
Edna Hong summed it up perfectly in her writing: But the spirit of truth does not seek comfort. The purpose of Lent is not to escape the conscience, but to create a healthy hatred for evil, a heartfelt contrition for sin, and a passionately felt need for grace.
May we all be as passionate about our need for grace as we are about our chickens.....whatever your chickens may be.
2.14.2016
Coffee
Let not your heart be troubled......
--John 14:1
Yesterday was a rough day. (Please recall the flat-tire-missed-practice-frozen-chicken-escapee-bunnies morning.) But, there is something special, perhaps magical, about a frozen lake house. Quiet and calming, it is a place of tranquility, of cozy, simplistic order. Covered in snow, bright and sparkling or dark and hushed, it is the essence of beauty. It is that place where the stresses and problems of the world seem to melt gently away. You can forget your self here. Or find it.
--John 14:1
Yesterday was a rough day. (Please recall the flat-tire-missed-practice-frozen-chicken-escapee-bunnies morning.) But, there is something special, perhaps magical, about a frozen lake house. Quiet and calming, it is a place of tranquility, of cozy, simplistic order. Covered in snow, bright and sparkling or dark and hushed, it is the essence of beauty. It is that place where the stresses and problems of the world seem to melt gently away. You can forget your self here. Or find it.
Arriving is not easy though. After all the preparation and planning beforehand (not my strong suits), there are way too many bags, boxes and backpacks to lug through the snow and into the house, while also remembering to let go of your burdens at the door. Yet, we had managed all of that, had enjoyed a (not-so) quiet day of games, reading, general mess making and bickering over what is more wasteful, eating the chips or not eating the chips, and then sat down for a healthy, life sustaining family meal.
It was during the cleaning up after dinner that I accidentally knocked the coffee carafe into the sink, fracturing it into several irreparable pieces. Now, those of you who have come to love (i.e. NEED) your morning cuppa understand the shock and horror of such an accident. I mean, a flat tire is one thing but this. THIS! The weight was almost too much. Ridiculously, it was as if the shards of glass had pierced my heart. (Perhaps I need to consider my coffee "needs".) Having just discovered Bulletproof Coffee the week before, and having brought all my special stuff to make it, I was at a loss. I went to bed heartbroken that, not only had I broken someone else's coffee carafe, but tomorrow would simply not be what I had hoped (a snuggly Valentine's Day with a cup of warm joe in one hand, a book in the other while curled up next to a cozy fire.) Slumber did not come easily, and my sleep was fitful at best.
Around 12:45 a.m. Madeline woke up, calling for me from upstairs. I eagerly bounded up the staircase, thankful for the distraction from beating myself up. She was cold and implored me to turn the heat up. (Note: She had asked us not to turn the heat on before she went to bed so that she wouldn't be too hot. Kids.) I got her tucked back in, adjusted the thermostat slightly and then went back to bed. While I meditated on our fast from wastefulness, and reviewed the happenings of the last few days, the words "with God, all things are possible" ran through my head and I was struck with an idea: the coffee maker here is so old that it doesn't have that auto pause feature that allows you to pour coffee while it is still brewing. Admittedly, this is something I have grumbled about in the past. Clearly one of those disguised blessings as I now realized I could use ANYTHING to catch the coffee in the morning. My heart leapt like George Bailey at the end of It's a Wonderful Life. I drifted easily off to sleep after that with gladness and thanksgiving.
Thank you, Pyrex! And you, too, old Mr. Coffee who used to annoy me so!
Sunday arrived, and with it, coffee! Armed for the day, we loaded up and trucked into the little town (of like twelve people) to go to a local church. We about doubled the congregation, which we were assured was because of how cold it was that morning which tends to keep both the elderly and the young families at home. But it was what we needed.
In the Children's part of the service, the minister wrote out Valentines cards for each of the kids. He started with the children he knew, wrote their names on their cards and handed them out. He then turned to our children and asked each of them to choose between Star Wars and Avengers, then wrote down their names.
He started with Solomon.
"Hi! What is your name, son?"
Without missing a beat, Solomon solemnly replied, "Steve."
We about fell out of our seats. The minister began writing Steve on the card while the rest of us laughed so hard some of us were crying. The girls explained to the minister that that was not actually his name, just what he currently wanted to be called.
"So, Steve, do you have another name? Maybe an alias? You know, how Spiderman is actually Peter Parker by day?"
He shrugged. "Solomon, I guess."
And so he had his special Valentine......
Ah! happy those whose heart can break
And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from sin?
How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?
--Oscar Wilde
In the Children's part of the service, the minister wrote out Valentines cards for each of the kids. He started with the children he knew, wrote their names on their cards and handed them out. He then turned to our children and asked each of them to choose between Star Wars and Avengers, then wrote down their names.
He started with Solomon.
"Hi! What is your name, son?"
Without missing a beat, Solomon solemnly replied, "Steve."
We about fell out of our seats. The minister began writing Steve on the card while the rest of us laughed so hard some of us were crying. The girls explained to the minister that that was not actually his name, just what he currently wanted to be called.
"So, Steve, do you have another name? Maybe an alias? You know, how Spiderman is actually Peter Parker by day?"
He shrugged. "Solomon, I guess."
And so he had his special Valentine......
And I had mine.
Ah! happy those whose heart can break
And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from sin?
How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?
--Oscar Wilde
Clutching Grace
We ought to approach Lent as an opportunity, not a requirement.
-Editors, from the devotional Bread and Wine
On Day 2 of Lent I received a frantic call from a neighbor whose oldest child is suffering from bouts of severe depression. She has seven kids, a husband out of town and she needed help with two of her younger children so that she could get her son to a residential clinic in another state.
Right away I knew I had been blessed with this opportunity to help someone in a very tangible way. After dropping my kids off at school, I showed up at her house, held her baby while she got her kids ready, and just listened. She warned me that her three year old daughter was her "devil child" and thanked me for my willingness to help her out as none of her friends had answered her call or returned her messages. I assured her it was no problem at all, I mean, what's another couple of kids for a day?
Let's just say that her assessment of her daughter is pretty much on target. I have never seen a child quite like her: she can't stay still for two seconds, is all over the place, and her life's purpose is apparently to break any rule you set in front of her, with a sweet, innocent smile on her face. She is a precious little devil, to say the least.
At one point, she was sitting (and by sitting I mean she was half standing) on the bench at the kitchen table and started leaving with a fistful of pretzels clutched in one hand and a mouth so full I thought she might start spitting crumbs out at any moment.
"B, where are you supposed to eat in my house?" I asked her.
She mumbled something that sounded close to "at the table" and then smiled a huge grin complete with partially chewed up pretzels oozing between her teeth.
I helped her sit back down and as soon as she was done swallowing, she stuffed another fistful in and proceeded to get up again.
"B, please sit back down. You cannot leave the table until you are done chewing AND swallowing your food."
She gave me that devilish grin again. Clearly we were playing a fun game.
After several more rounds of this, she grabbed one more pretzel and started to "slip away" as she watched to see if I was paying attention. She was tickled pink when I held out my hand and asked her to give up the pretzel before she headed off to destroy the rest of the house. And so went the next nine hours.
Two days later, it would be me who needed the help. A flat tire lead to a little panic as I could not make it to the training facility I was supposed to coach at, there were kids and parents waiting to get in and it was single digits cold outside and our trainer had decided not to go that morning but hadn't told me. Furthermore, Kurt had taken his truck to pick up Aidan from swimming and go north to his parent's lake house with the boys (where we would meet up after soccer) and so now I was to get the tire fixed, reload the truck (dog and all) and somehow manage to get to the four hours of scrimmages with the girls after feeding and watering the chickens, where I found our Houdini bunnies roaming the shed, whose door was wide open and the chickens inside were shivering from the deep freeze of the night before!
I took a lot of deep breaths, reminding myself that I hadn't had to check in my child to a hospital for suicidal thoughts, that everyone was well, the chickens were still producing, the bunnies had not left the barn and soon I would be tucked away in the still of a private retreat.
AAA took almost two hours to arrive, only to tell me that my best bet was to blow up the tire and get to the closest tire center to have it fixed, rather than put a spare on and go on a road trip. After he added air and checked the rest of the tires, I thanked him for his time (even though I was pretty annoyed as I could have done that like three hours earlier and been off already). And then I immediately phoned a friend for help in getting the girls to where they belonged so that I could take care of the rest. I will admit, God has gifted me with very good friends in my life. I am utterly grateful.
While waiting in the lobby for the tire to be patched, I had the rare moment of no kids and nothing to do. That is when I received a phone call from a parent in Liam's class. You see, Liam has been invited to his first ever sleep over birthday party. Actually, this is only the second birthday party he has ever been invited to, which is sad when I stop to think about it. But then, I had requested to speak with this mom to make sure she knew how overstimulated Liam can sometimes get and that he might incessantly talk her ear off, if given the opportunity, and could very possibly rile the entire group up, although, I don't know for sure as he had never been given this kind of opportunity. At one point, I told her she was brave for inviting all the boys in the class for a sleepover party but as it turns out, she only allowed her twins to invite 6 boys.
My heart was so full as it sunk in that Liam had been chosen, had been picked out by actual kids his age (whom apparently talk about Liam all the time to their mom because, as she put it, they simply love Liam) and that he would have the opportunity to participate in what is essentially a childhood rite of passage.
And then, perhaps due to the ridiculousness of the morning, tears started edging their way to the corners of my eyes, right there in the tire center. And it occurred to me that with God, we are all chosen, all called upon to participate, all invited to sit at the table and partake of God's everlasting love and grace.
And then, something dawned on me. I am just like my neighbor's daughter: trying to stuff myself as fully as possible while quietly plotting my escape from the table, all the while, clutching grace tightly, as if my life depended on it.
And it does.
As Paul wrote in Romans: 'For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'
Fortunately, God has His eyes on us, knows when we get up to leave and like any good parent, calls us back to stay at the table.
Fortunately, that grace we clutch onto, clutches onto us, too.
-Editors, from the devotional Bread and Wine
On Day 2 of Lent I received a frantic call from a neighbor whose oldest child is suffering from bouts of severe depression. She has seven kids, a husband out of town and she needed help with two of her younger children so that she could get her son to a residential clinic in another state.
Right away I knew I had been blessed with this opportunity to help someone in a very tangible way. After dropping my kids off at school, I showed up at her house, held her baby while she got her kids ready, and just listened. She warned me that her three year old daughter was her "devil child" and thanked me for my willingness to help her out as none of her friends had answered her call or returned her messages. I assured her it was no problem at all, I mean, what's another couple of kids for a day?
Let's just say that her assessment of her daughter is pretty much on target. I have never seen a child quite like her: she can't stay still for two seconds, is all over the place, and her life's purpose is apparently to break any rule you set in front of her, with a sweet, innocent smile on her face. She is a precious little devil, to say the least.
At one point, she was sitting (and by sitting I mean she was half standing) on the bench at the kitchen table and started leaving with a fistful of pretzels clutched in one hand and a mouth so full I thought she might start spitting crumbs out at any moment.
"B, where are you supposed to eat in my house?" I asked her.
She mumbled something that sounded close to "at the table" and then smiled a huge grin complete with partially chewed up pretzels oozing between her teeth.
I helped her sit back down and as soon as she was done swallowing, she stuffed another fistful in and proceeded to get up again.
"B, please sit back down. You cannot leave the table until you are done chewing AND swallowing your food."
She gave me that devilish grin again. Clearly we were playing a fun game.
After several more rounds of this, she grabbed one more pretzel and started to "slip away" as she watched to see if I was paying attention. She was tickled pink when I held out my hand and asked her to give up the pretzel before she headed off to destroy the rest of the house. And so went the next nine hours.
Two days later, it would be me who needed the help. A flat tire lead to a little panic as I could not make it to the training facility I was supposed to coach at, there were kids and parents waiting to get in and it was single digits cold outside and our trainer had decided not to go that morning but hadn't told me. Furthermore, Kurt had taken his truck to pick up Aidan from swimming and go north to his parent's lake house with the boys (where we would meet up after soccer) and so now I was to get the tire fixed, reload the truck (dog and all) and somehow manage to get to the four hours of scrimmages with the girls after feeding and watering the chickens, where I found our Houdini bunnies roaming the shed, whose door was wide open and the chickens inside were shivering from the deep freeze of the night before!
I took a lot of deep breaths, reminding myself that I hadn't had to check in my child to a hospital for suicidal thoughts, that everyone was well, the chickens were still producing, the bunnies had not left the barn and soon I would be tucked away in the still of a private retreat.
AAA took almost two hours to arrive, only to tell me that my best bet was to blow up the tire and get to the closest tire center to have it fixed, rather than put a spare on and go on a road trip. After he added air and checked the rest of the tires, I thanked him for his time (even though I was pretty annoyed as I could have done that like three hours earlier and been off already). And then I immediately phoned a friend for help in getting the girls to where they belonged so that I could take care of the rest. I will admit, God has gifted me with very good friends in my life. I am utterly grateful.
While waiting in the lobby for the tire to be patched, I had the rare moment of no kids and nothing to do. That is when I received a phone call from a parent in Liam's class. You see, Liam has been invited to his first ever sleep over birthday party. Actually, this is only the second birthday party he has ever been invited to, which is sad when I stop to think about it. But then, I had requested to speak with this mom to make sure she knew how overstimulated Liam can sometimes get and that he might incessantly talk her ear off, if given the opportunity, and could very possibly rile the entire group up, although, I don't know for sure as he had never been given this kind of opportunity. At one point, I told her she was brave for inviting all the boys in the class for a sleepover party but as it turns out, she only allowed her twins to invite 6 boys.
And Liam made the cut!
My heart was so full as it sunk in that Liam had been chosen, had been picked out by actual kids his age (whom apparently talk about Liam all the time to their mom because, as she put it, they simply love Liam) and that he would have the opportunity to participate in what is essentially a childhood rite of passage.
And then, perhaps due to the ridiculousness of the morning, tears started edging their way to the corners of my eyes, right there in the tire center. And it occurred to me that with God, we are all chosen, all called upon to participate, all invited to sit at the table and partake of God's everlasting love and grace.
And then, something dawned on me. I am just like my neighbor's daughter: trying to stuff myself as fully as possible while quietly plotting my escape from the table, all the while, clutching grace tightly, as if my life depended on it.
And it does.
As Paul wrote in Romans: 'For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.'
Fortunately, God has His eyes on us, knows when we get up to leave and like any good parent, calls us back to stay at the table.
Fortunately, that grace we clutch onto, clutches onto us, too.
2.12.2016
Really? REALLY?!
True confession: Sometimes, when faced with what seems like an impossible biblical story, I feel a sense of sarcasm outrage.
Don't get me wrong. I have no plans on pulling off some crazy, movie-worthy scene of insanity but I am often left wondering what the H. E. DoubleHockeySticks was God thinking. It's like this intricate little dance we play out, over and over and over. He is who He is, does what only He can get away with and I shake my head in absolute incredulity because really God? REALLY?!
That's right folks. Sometimes I find myself JUDGING GOD! (Please pause for a moment of silent meditation as you think through that.)
Day Two of Lent found me reading the story of Abraham....you know, the story where God asks Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac. So, here's the thing. Abraham was an old guy. Perhaps what God actually said was to sacrifice A Yak and Abraham just misheard him. A YAK! Abraham, A YAK! Not ISAAC!
For the love of......why on earth would God ask someone to kill their own kid?
But Abraham, in all his faith and obedience, showed up. And he didn't waste any time either I tell you. Makes you wonder what kind of kid Isaac was really. But what we do know is that Isaac wasn't dumb because half way up the mountain there's Isaac scratching his head saying, "Um, dad? Wait a second. We have all the stuff to kill and burn the lamb but we have no lamb.....where's the lamb?" (That's right Abraham.....he's on to you.)
And Abraham, very composed, responds: "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son." (Don't trust him Isaac! RUUUUUN!)
The story continues and right before Abraham sacrifices his son, an Angel calls out for him to stop. "Abraham!"
"Here I am," he replies and is then told not to lay a hand on his helpless, bound up son. Phew. Disaster averted. A yak, Abraham! A YAK! (Or a ram, whatever.)
And the rest of the unwritten story is that Isaac becomes the first human needing intensive mental health counseling for the REST OF HIS LIFE! (Many thanks, God.)
But, here's the thing. When you back up and reread earlier in the story of Abraham and Isaac, you read that God promises to establish his everlasting covenant with Isaac and his descendants. God made a promise. The only way I can explain this story and Abraham's response is that he remembered God's promise and he trusted God.
Over and over God makes His promise to us. A promise to remove our hearts of stone and give us new hearts, and a new spirit so that we will be transformed. Into the likeness of God. But first, like Abraham, we must show up. (Watch out, kids.....I'm not old and slow like Abraham....)
****
So there we were, the first morning of our family's Lenten Fast and the kids are all in the kitchen rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator saying, "Well shoot, what CAN we eat?"
You see, our family decided that our journey would be a "Fast from Wastefulness". We vowed to give up wasting time, money, talents, food, stuff, etc. etc....... Easy peasy Mac-n-Cheesy, right? (Well, except for the Mac-n-Cheese part, which would be a waste of calories.....) But this fast is already causing such huge dilemmas that it added twenty extra minutes to our morning routine yesterday and Madeline ended up being 10 minutes late to school. And while I had half a mind to claim religious reasons for her tardiness, I figured having to explain that we were fasting from wastefulness and then managed to waste extra time getting ready was probably not what they mean by Religious Practices. (Uh, strike one?)
But, before you start questioning my motives here, think about all the grey areas in this life. In one day of "fasting" my kids have learned that sometimes you have to choose between bad and worse....sometimes you just can't win. (Do we eat the open bag of cereal that is not healthy and therefore wasting the calories we fuel our bodies with, or do we not eat it and then waste food that we have purchased which means we have to spend, [waste?] more money on something else? There is waste either way.)
I like to think of it as a platform to teach about biblical contradictions (God is Love but then asks someone to sacrifice their only son.....which IS NOT LOVING, GOD! Just sayin'.....) Kurt likes to think of it as a good lesson in economic trade offs. Either way, it's like a win-win, by way of failing. Easy-Peasy, without Mac-N-Cheesy!
Don't get me wrong. I have no plans on pulling off some crazy, movie-worthy scene of insanity but I am often left wondering what the H. E. DoubleHockeySticks was God thinking. It's like this intricate little dance we play out, over and over and over. He is who He is, does what only He can get away with and I shake my head in absolute incredulity because really God? REALLY?!
That's right folks. Sometimes I find myself JUDGING GOD! (Please pause for a moment of silent meditation as you think through that.)
Day Two of Lent found me reading the story of Abraham....you know, the story where God asks Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac. So, here's the thing. Abraham was an old guy. Perhaps what God actually said was to sacrifice A Yak and Abraham just misheard him. A YAK! Abraham, A YAK! Not ISAAC!
For the love of......why on earth would God ask someone to kill their own kid?
But Abraham, in all his faith and obedience, showed up. And he didn't waste any time either I tell you. Makes you wonder what kind of kid Isaac was really. But what we do know is that Isaac wasn't dumb because half way up the mountain there's Isaac scratching his head saying, "Um, dad? Wait a second. We have all the stuff to kill and burn the lamb but we have no lamb.....where's the lamb?" (That's right Abraham.....he's on to you.)
And Abraham, very composed, responds: "God himself will provide the lamb for the burnt offering, my son." (Don't trust him Isaac! RUUUUUN!)
The story continues and right before Abraham sacrifices his son, an Angel calls out for him to stop. "Abraham!"
"Here I am," he replies and is then told not to lay a hand on his helpless, bound up son. Phew. Disaster averted. A yak, Abraham! A YAK! (Or a ram, whatever.)
And the rest of the unwritten story is that Isaac becomes the first human needing intensive mental health counseling for the REST OF HIS LIFE! (Many thanks, God.)
But, here's the thing. When you back up and reread earlier in the story of Abraham and Isaac, you read that God promises to establish his everlasting covenant with Isaac and his descendants. God made a promise. The only way I can explain this story and Abraham's response is that he remembered God's promise and he trusted God.
Over and over God makes His promise to us. A promise to remove our hearts of stone and give us new hearts, and a new spirit so that we will be transformed. Into the likeness of God. But first, like Abraham, we must show up. (Watch out, kids.....I'm not old and slow like Abraham....)
****
So there we were, the first morning of our family's Lenten Fast and the kids are all in the kitchen rummaging through the pantry and refrigerator saying, "Well shoot, what CAN we eat?"
You see, our family decided that our journey would be a "Fast from Wastefulness". We vowed to give up wasting time, money, talents, food, stuff, etc. etc....... Easy peasy Mac-n-Cheesy, right? (Well, except for the Mac-n-Cheese part, which would be a waste of calories.....) But this fast is already causing such huge dilemmas that it added twenty extra minutes to our morning routine yesterday and Madeline ended up being 10 minutes late to school. And while I had half a mind to claim religious reasons for her tardiness, I figured having to explain that we were fasting from wastefulness and then managed to waste extra time getting ready was probably not what they mean by Religious Practices. (Uh, strike one?)
But, before you start questioning my motives here, think about all the grey areas in this life. In one day of "fasting" my kids have learned that sometimes you have to choose between bad and worse....sometimes you just can't win. (Do we eat the open bag of cereal that is not healthy and therefore wasting the calories we fuel our bodies with, or do we not eat it and then waste food that we have purchased which means we have to spend, [waste?] more money on something else? There is waste either way.)
I like to think of it as a platform to teach about biblical contradictions (God is Love but then asks someone to sacrifice their only son.....which IS NOT LOVING, GOD! Just sayin'.....) Kurt likes to think of it as a good lesson in economic trade offs. Either way, it's like a win-win, by way of failing. Easy-Peasy, without Mac-N-Cheesy!
2.11.2016
Lenten Parenting
As it turns out, just showing up is often frowned upon in our culture. It is standard to bring something to a dinner party, to doll yourself up for a night out with friends, to prep for a meeting, to study for the test, to train, to rehearse, to do something before you get to wherever you are going. I can recall one hectic Sunday in which some of my kids were still in their PJ's, hair unbrushed, faces smeared with breakfast, mucus, perhaps some tears, others in sports clothes and just as unkempt, and I probably looked like I had just returned from hours in the coop, when we finally slid into the back row of the church, several minutes late. One older man, a deacon in the church, eyed us with what seemed like utter disgust. Clearly, we were not "church-ready" by his standards. And while I know God doesn't impose those same human conditions on our outwardly self, that feeling that surged through me is unforgettable: one of judgement, of disdain and shame. I wanted to yell at him, tell him he had no idea what the last hour had been like for us, that we were just lucky to have made it at all, and that we NEEDED to be here as much as anyone, possibly more. Instead, I quietly prayed that both our hearts would be softened and mended. And then offered him the passing of the peace. Clearly he needed it as much as I did.
So as I was thinking about Lent, it occurred to me (on Fat Tuesday) that if I was going to make the effort to show up for this season of preparation, and I wanted my family to tag along on the forty day journey, that I might actually need to put something together this time.
So as I was thinking about Lent, it occurred to me (on Fat Tuesday) that if I was going to make the effort to show up for this season of preparation, and I wanted my family to tag along on the forty day journey, that I might actually need to put something together this time.
At any rate, I called the pastor at our former church in Minnesota. (In and of itself, calling to ask for help points to growth at least somewhere in my life! Ooooh, the vulnerability!) I guess my hope was that maybe they had some little family devotional e-book that they could simply email me. No such luck. (But not a bad idea for any church if you ask me!) Nonetheless, the conversation was affirming and renewing and lifted my spirits. And it assured me that I was on the right track at some level.
By mid-day on Ash Wednesday, I finally made my way to Google and found some good free resources.....right after ordering a bunch of family devotionals on Amazon. (Admittedly, my timing is not always what it should be.)
Anyway, I found that by piecing the two free devotionals together, we had something worthwhile to guide us through the rawness of Ash Wednesday, and the whole mess beyond.
That night, we read from Genesis, the story of Adam and Eve and their partaking of the fruit and their eyes being opened to everything. (Poor souls!) And we stopped at the point where God's strolling along and calls out to them: "Where are you?"
Well, that is where I stopped it anyway.....the devotional carried on to consequences and such but I could not get past the fact that even though God knew what had happened, he still searched for them, called for them, beckoned them forward....like any loving parent, He still wanted to be in relationship with His children, no matter how strained it had become.
And so I explained to my family that God is searching for us, too, calling us by name, asking us to show up, wherever and however we are. Even now.
It also occurred to me that this story resonated with me on an entirely different level. You see, God set a rule for his naive children, then took his eyes off of them for like two seconds, didn't bother to vet the company that they kept (darn serpent) and then came back, only to find that they had been disobedient (uh, duh....) And while they were busy pointing fingers at each other (well, you know, except for the serpent who didn't have fingers to point!), he totally freaked out on them.....condemning them to a life of pain, suffering, toil, sweat, bread-eating and finally DEATH. I mean, really! Kind of overkill God, don't ya think? Sheesh. (First time parents....)
But we can glean a lot from this story. I mean, even God felt like inflicting suffering on his children in the name of consequences. I get that. I really do. Which is why next time my kids fall out of line I am just going to calmly repeat in my most ominous voice: "You are dust and to dust you shall return." And then lock them all out of the house.
Hey, if it's good enough for God.....
Day one. We showed up.
By mid-day on Ash Wednesday, I finally made my way to Google and found some good free resources.....right after ordering a bunch of family devotionals on Amazon. (Admittedly, my timing is not always what it should be.)
Anyway, I found that by piecing the two free devotionals together, we had something worthwhile to guide us through the rawness of Ash Wednesday, and the whole mess beyond.
That night, we read from Genesis, the story of Adam and Eve and their partaking of the fruit and their eyes being opened to everything. (Poor souls!) And we stopped at the point where God's strolling along and calls out to them: "Where are you?"
Well, that is where I stopped it anyway.....the devotional carried on to consequences and such but I could not get past the fact that even though God knew what had happened, he still searched for them, called for them, beckoned them forward....like any loving parent, He still wanted to be in relationship with His children, no matter how strained it had become.
And so I explained to my family that God is searching for us, too, calling us by name, asking us to show up, wherever and however we are. Even now.
It also occurred to me that this story resonated with me on an entirely different level. You see, God set a rule for his naive children, then took his eyes off of them for like two seconds, didn't bother to vet the company that they kept (darn serpent) and then came back, only to find that they had been disobedient (uh, duh....) And while they were busy pointing fingers at each other (well, you know, except for the serpent who didn't have fingers to point!), he totally freaked out on them.....condemning them to a life of pain, suffering, toil, sweat, bread-eating and finally DEATH. I mean, really! Kind of overkill God, don't ya think? Sheesh. (First time parents....)
But we can glean a lot from this story. I mean, even God felt like inflicting suffering on his children in the name of consequences. I get that. I really do. Which is why next time my kids fall out of line I am just going to calmly repeat in my most ominous voice: "You are dust and to dust you shall return." And then lock them all out of the house.
Hey, if it's good enough for God.....
Day one. We showed up.
2.10.2016
Ash Wednesday: Showing Up
"I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed." -- Michael Jordan
It is a favorite quote in our house, one that hangs in Kurt's office, one that we make our kids read when they are up against the stresses of life and fear of possible failure. We cling to it like a kitten hanging from a high branch because we so want to believe that in the end our efforts, our failings and eventual successes will amount to something, will lift us up and bring us home to a place of safety and peace.
When I ponder the journey to success through the lens of that quote, I envision a staircase, one that starts off with long, deep steps, whose foundation is made of messes and failure. And each step becomes more and more focused toward the top, yet still resting on that foundation of mistakes. More often than not misery and doubt carpet that early, messy place. But somewhere along the lines, those steps become small successes, and the momentum takes a turn, a new rhythm develops, and the person reaching for that lofty goal, so determined to succeed, fails to even notice that no longer are they tiptoeing around their mistakes and messes but are being uplifted by their own success, no longer needing the stairs at all.....they reach a point where they can take off and soar.
The thing is, most of us, leading ordinary lives, are not basking in the glow of MVP awards, championship trophies, fame, fortune. We do not always even have an end game, cannot even see a goal at the top, and are left wondering if there is one at all. We get stuck in the ruts of the stairs, sliding backward as often as we make progress, and when we read things about finding purpose and calling and thriving, not just surviving, our eyes glaze over as we scroll through our to-do list in the back of our heads and realize we have missed half of it, if we have even begun at all.....and the bacon is burning in the oven and the water is overflowing in the sink and someone clogged a toilet and everyone is hungry......and we realize that WE are hungry too. We simply cannot juggle all the balls we have going. Who has the time to sacrifice for success? And what is success if not the culmination of the many pieces of ourselves, good and bad, all coming together?
This is the place I find myself in as we again begin the Lenten journey. I want to say that, because I am so empty, I do not need 40 days to ponder, to purge, to resist temptations, to prepare myself for the blessing of Easter. But the fact is, since moving here, my spiritual journey has stalled and taken a back seat, leaving me a lost wanderer in an increasingly bare desert.....perhaps the perfect place to find myself at the start of this season; unfamiliar and full of trepidation, yet somehow safe for I know I am not alone on this much needed journey.
We do not show up whole and perfect. We do not need to. We cannot. Instead, we show up messy and fragmented, discontent and consumed and empty, and face to face with as many failings as there are stars in the sky. But we show up anyway. Just as God wants. And we are loved.
And that is why we succeed.
It is a favorite quote in our house, one that hangs in Kurt's office, one that we make our kids read when they are up against the stresses of life and fear of possible failure. We cling to it like a kitten hanging from a high branch because we so want to believe that in the end our efforts, our failings and eventual successes will amount to something, will lift us up and bring us home to a place of safety and peace.
When I ponder the journey to success through the lens of that quote, I envision a staircase, one that starts off with long, deep steps, whose foundation is made of messes and failure. And each step becomes more and more focused toward the top, yet still resting on that foundation of mistakes. More often than not misery and doubt carpet that early, messy place. But somewhere along the lines, those steps become small successes, and the momentum takes a turn, a new rhythm develops, and the person reaching for that lofty goal, so determined to succeed, fails to even notice that no longer are they tiptoeing around their mistakes and messes but are being uplifted by their own success, no longer needing the stairs at all.....they reach a point where they can take off and soar.
The thing is, most of us, leading ordinary lives, are not basking in the glow of MVP awards, championship trophies, fame, fortune. We do not always even have an end game, cannot even see a goal at the top, and are left wondering if there is one at all. We get stuck in the ruts of the stairs, sliding backward as often as we make progress, and when we read things about finding purpose and calling and thriving, not just surviving, our eyes glaze over as we scroll through our to-do list in the back of our heads and realize we have missed half of it, if we have even begun at all.....and the bacon is burning in the oven and the water is overflowing in the sink and someone clogged a toilet and everyone is hungry......and we realize that WE are hungry too. We simply cannot juggle all the balls we have going. Who has the time to sacrifice for success? And what is success if not the culmination of the many pieces of ourselves, good and bad, all coming together?
This is the place I find myself in as we again begin the Lenten journey. I want to say that, because I am so empty, I do not need 40 days to ponder, to purge, to resist temptations, to prepare myself for the blessing of Easter. But the fact is, since moving here, my spiritual journey has stalled and taken a back seat, leaving me a lost wanderer in an increasingly bare desert.....perhaps the perfect place to find myself at the start of this season; unfamiliar and full of trepidation, yet somehow safe for I know I am not alone on this much needed journey.
We do not show up whole and perfect. We do not need to. We cannot. Instead, we show up messy and fragmented, discontent and consumed and empty, and face to face with as many failings as there are stars in the sky. But we show up anyway. Just as God wants. And we are loved.
And that is why we succeed.
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