Day 27: Into the unknown

 Our RV trips follow a loose plan.  We look at the weather forecast and set out in a general direction.  We choose places to stop based on what the kids are into and how long we feel like driving. We research places on Google as we drive.  We have a few books in the RV on rock collecting that usually take us on wild adventures.  We can never tell what a place is going to be like.  Sometimes they are awesome.  Sometimes they are not great.  Sometimes we can adapt and re-route.  Sometimes we can't.  

Today we visited the valley of fire outside of Las Vegas.  It's a giant natural playground. Rock piles 50 feet tall begging to be climbed.  The kids love it. I work at not being stressed out while they run down the hillsides like mountain goats. 

The campground at valley of fire was full.  There was a nice looking dispersed camping site just outside the park that had been our main plan.  We rolled up and it was not ideal. The day was windy and this campground was exposed. It was also crowded.  Think giant parking lot full of rvs with cool desert views. There wasn't anywhere for the kids to play. We decided to take a gamble and look for something better.  

I had a plan to visit an unmarked gypsum cave tomorrow.  It was only 30 minutes away. We headed that direction.  It was already 4pm, we had limited daylight to work with. 

We saw a sign for a campground on Lake Mead. We turned off and headed down to the lakeside campground.  It was closed.  We turned around and continued driving toward the cave. We passed an interesting jeep road. But of us perked up.  Jeep roads usually lead to the best campsites. But there was nothing marked on the map and i couldn't be sure it wasn't private property. 

We pull into a day use hiking area that is lovely but is full of "no camping" signs.  We sigh. Daylight is running thin. 

We agree,  last resort backup plan is a hotel in Vegas.  But we had one last shot to find a place.  We could either continue on to the gypsum cave which we knew nothing about or turn around and explore the jeep road.

We had a good feeling about the jeep road.  

I put on "into the unknown" and we headed back.  

We turned onto the road and drove along a river wash.  I spotted a fire ring and another. Tall banks shielded us from the wind and the river bank was full of firewood. 

We drove a ways in and found a perfect spot with a smooth flat place for Zander to ride his bike and cool rock walls for miles and Philip to climb.

There is a scene in Nemo where the dad and Dori are hanging on to the whales tongue and it appears like they are about to be swallowed and Dori screams "Let go,  it's going to be alright. " The dad replies,  "How do you know?"

She answers simply,  "I don't."

This is the mystery of faith.  

It is jumping into the unknown. It is trusting even when we don't know things are going to turn out OK.  It takes courage. And it can feel foolish in a world that is marked by information and safety nets. It's really foriegn to just head off into the unknown without a map or Google reviews to help assure we're making the right choice. 

Today,  this camp site was a gift.  An adventure i didn't plan to take.  A little empty piece of wilderness to explore with my kids. 

Onward,  Into the unknown.

Day 26: The Desert

 Growing up, I was not a fan of the desert. 

I couldn't understand why people would go there voluntarily. It felt uncomfortable and dangerous. It was the place people went to suffer in the Bible. 

I preferred green places. Abundant in water and life. 

My first trip to the desert was to take my kids to Palm Springs for a long weekend in the winter. They had cabin fever from weeks of rain and a place with warm weather and a swimming pool seemed like the perfect antidote. 

I grew to love the desert. As a mom of 5 very busy boys, I found an ability to rest in the desert that I haven't found in too many other places. There are no people there to judge my parenting or my kids. No one to worry about inconveniencing. There is a long visibilty and interesting rocks and things to climb. I don't have to worry about them breaking things. I can let them be them. It is a freedom I don't find other places. 

Other people that you run into in the desert tend to be very chill. Often they are also looking for freedom and peace. There's also very few other people so there am unwritten code of helping. Sharing tools. Helping with vehicle issues. Out in the desert, you have to rely on strangers ... there's no cell service. There's no AAA. 

In my ongoing reading of the early church, I've been learning about the very first Christian monasteries. Christians fled into the desert in Egypt. At first, they were completely alone. Single men and women who went into the most remote places they could find to dedicate their life to faith.  

Something was missing. One essential tenant of Christian faith is love. And these early monks could not fully live out their faith alone. And so they began to live in communities where devotion to God was accompanied with love and service to each other. 

What surprised me in the history is what drove them into the desert. If you had asked, I would have guessed it was persecution. But it was the rise of a "Christian state" under Constantine that pushed many to leave the empire and find a way to live more authentically. There was a fear that power and money would corrupt the church. That is was impossible to follow Jesus in a world with ornate churches. 

Listening to this history, I understand the impulse. There are moments when the world, the society and culture that i live in make me feel that the only way to live my faith fully and authentically is to withdraw. To move to a remote place and to develop rhythms of living that are congruent with my beliefs. And the other half of me says, my faith demands that I both love and serve others and that I bear witness to the work of God in my life.

This week, I am enjoying my freedom in the desert. But next week, I go back to work, finding ways to to live my faith in Livermore, California. 

Day 25: leaving on vacation is stressful

 My battery is blinking red. I need a vacation.  A full stop break from all the things. The problem with vacation is that you have to get yourself to vacation - pack,  clean,  prep,  etc and for me that is 7x. 

And so the stress of getting ready.  Cleaning.  Packing.  Feeding chickens.  And the list was endless.  

And the closer I got to finishing,  somehow the more stressful it felt. I think because I felt the anticipation of letting go and being done and leaving early enough to get a ways down the road and the weight of everything undone.  

But them I was done. I stood at the door sure I had forgotten something. Not wanting to let my future self down. Finally,  I had scoured my brain enough.  I locked the door and got into the car.

A million pounds melted off my shoulders in an instant and I noticed and wondered about that.  

Why does the moment before make it hard to think clearly. And the moment after make it hard to care about anything.  

The moment before I started vacation I was so stressed about forgetting to do something. And the moment after I was like "oh well,  I got a credit card and that's all I need. "

 I have yet to find the spiritual epiphany in this and yet it feels like a spiritual experience.  Something about the limitedness of time that pushes me to do the best i can. 

I worry about doing the best I can. Getting the most out of my kids early years before they grow up,  getting the most out of my body before I age and it starts to fail me, making the most of a beautiful day or a time when someone is babysitting my kids and I need to "enjoy" the time off. 

And then I discover that memories a lovely with big kids and whatever i do with a day off is lovely. 

But the question follows me - am I living this one and precious life well? What does it mean to live well? Am I living my faith? Is that the same thing? 

Today more questions than answers but I have a whole week in the desert to spend with them. It will be good.  

Day 24: Bedtime liturgy

Zander recently gave up his nap and his sleep was out of control. He was tired starting around noon but couldn't sleep and by 5 he was past tired and I couldn't settle him down until close to 9. The spiral worsened and I decided we needed a drastic overhaul of our night routine.

I was surprised by his reaction to my firmness. I had expected problems. I found an over tired preschooler who embraced the structure as respite for his tired little body. 

But he is rigid about the routine. Jammies, teeth, floss, 3 minutes in the rocking chair with a cup of water and 3 board books in bed, in the same order. Some nights he's so tired that he starts falling asleep in the rocking chair but he wakes himself and powers through.  

He doesn't even look at the books when I read them. Often he turns on his side, eyes closed and listens. Sometimes he recites them but lately, he just wants me to read them. Tonight, I didn't even open the books, I just recited the words. 

The last book is his bedtime prayer:

Bless the moon, bless the stars

Bless my nightlight, bless my cars 

Bless my trucks, bless my chairs

Bless my table, bless my bears

Bless my bunny, bless my mouse

Bless the family in its house

Bless my pillow, bless my bed

And bless me too from toes to head

Bless the water, earth and air 

And bless the children everywhere. 

As I turned out the light and curled up in the beanbag next to his bed to write this post, I began to ponder liturgy as a kind of bedtime routine.  

I had this image in my mind of church as an intellectual and emotional act of worship. Connecting with the words, hearing them, meditating on them and allowing them to change me. And worship is that... but sometimes, it's like Zanders bedtime routine.  

It's words to a cadence that animates a routine which catalyzes a way of being. 

The lord be with you

And also with you

Life up your hands

We lift them up to the lord 

There are things to ponder in this exchange. But even writing it, I feel the feeling of gathering around a table. Waiting for Communion.  

.... let us pray to the Lord

Lord, hear our prayer or Lord have mercy

I feel the ever expanding concern of the church reaching out in prayer for the world. 

Go in faith and serve the lord

Thanks be to God

I am ready to be done with church. 

I think of myself like Zander.  With a routine in place to repeat week after week.  Reminding me of the main parts of Christian faith. I don't need the bulletin,  the words are the same our close enough to the same that I know what to say.  

It never occurred to me,  that the motions themselves without thought or even heart into it could be meaningful. Some days,  he loves his books.  Or he is into getting his jammies on by himself or connecting with me while we snuggle in the rocking chair.  Some days he doesn't want to go to bed and he goes through the process in protest and yet,  by the end,  without participating at all,  finds himself worked on by the routine and is ready to relinquish himself to bed and drifts off in minutes.  Some days he's so tired,  I have to do the routine to him and plop him in bed.  

I think about liturgical church this way. I, as the toddler, am acted on by the routine whether or not I'm into it.  I come out different than I came in,  at least a little.   

Faith routines - spiritual practices - are a way of allowing God to parent us. Even when we come to them sad,  tired,  angry or apathetic.  God carries us through and feeds us even when we have a fit and throw it on the floor because we wanted ice cream instead.  

Before I even wrote three words of this post,  Zander was asleep.  Blessed are the routines that help little ones regulate their bodies and blessed are the routines that bring us back to God on a regular rhythm. 

Day 23: Seen

 She stands at the doorway of my next season in life.  Her youngest is a senior in highschool and she is transistioning into a time when motherhood looks more like a faith journey than a job. She has embraced this season with a grace that is lovely to ponder and learn from. 

We've only just started getting to know each other.  But her way of being and moving in the world makes my heart joyful.  She is curious and thoughtful.  Slow to judge.  Quick to listen. She listens deeply and I can see her mind spinning and making connections whenever we talk.  

She saw one of my posts on Facebook about the women's retreat churning up questions of discernment and she reached out just to walk with me and help me process my own thoughts. 

It was a gift that was so precious. Time and space to just walk and talk and think and be... myself.  

We met after preschool pickup for a walk along the creek where Zander could play and we could linger in conversation. It was a funny day.  It rained and then it was sunny.  I had a ton of random motherhood moments and things to take care of and she just walked along side of me in the awkward weather and moments.  We laughed at Zander's crazy scooter stunts and she followed him off the trail into the wild spaces as mothers do.  

We talked about the deep things. The things I crave talking about and the conversation meandered across different seasons of life,  ideas and thoughts. 

As I came away I sat in my car for a moment feeling seen. 

And i thought about how she responded to thoughts that I had.  She has once said, " well that's just the kind of thing you do. " She had been listening. She had taken pieces of my puzzle and fitting them together. It was listening to me and watching how i move and easily seeing what kinds of things I might do in a way that is harder to do for myself.

And as I thought about big questions about what lie ahead on my path in the season after this,  that phrase stuck with me. She saw the kinds of things i do without all the narrative of self doubt and over- thinking that happens on the inside.  She reminded me that I just plunge in and do the thing.

I'm long been a strong believer of both call and a process of discernment. Call, to me,  is complicated.  It can be a call to anything - to a vocation,  to a spiritual journey or practice,  to care for a person or community,  to fight a certain injustice. I have deeply resonated with this notion that God gives us calls for our own growth or because we have gifts to offer or because God is working in a way in us that is just unexplainable. 

But call is tricky.  How to know when God is calling us? Or if? And many people have claimed to be doing the work of God in ways that are clearly against the nature of the God they claim.  Because of this I'm very thoughtful about discernment.  To me,  call is affirmed by others who are strong in the faith,  it is affirmed in scripture and in the long tradition of faith.  

"That's the kind of thing you do."

Was a sign post in my discernment.  God has made me to do the kinds of things i do. And it's OK if I keep doing things like that. This feels obvious in stating it,  but it is a gospel lesson with Sunday school words - God made me to be me. And I should keep doing that.  

I would like to pass this beautiful word on to you my friend. 

God made you to be you. And you should keep doing that. Keep doing the kinds of things you do in the ways that you do them. And if there are a lot of voices in your head saying "..but what about..." find a friend who can see you and listen to you and put the pieces together and say to you honestly ... "But that's just the kind of thing you do" and affirm that which God made in you as a beautiful gift to this world that may be hard to see yourself.

Keep doing that thing. 

It's a great thing that you do. 

Day 22: The ones we're given

 

Jesus says we should forgive our brother seven times seventy times. Basically infinitely.  

But how many times do we have to patiently answer the phone to have the same conversation with the same person?

It's halfway between dealing with a teenager and an aging relative with dementia. Years of alcohol abuse have taken a toll on her memory and when she has something important or unusual going on she calls me about it.  

After 7 calls, my hands deep in soil while I patiently try to help Zander plant the garden, I tell her my patience is wearing thin. I told her this was the last call I'd take from her today and then, she called from another number while I was in the middle of putting kids to bed. 

It's ironic really that she should choose today to keep calling over and over. Maybe God has something to teach me. 

I had my spiritual direction call in the morning. I had talked about a lot of topics but one of them was how faith compels us to care for those in need. We think about the wide world out there. All the people out there that we don't know who are suffering. It is very difficult to find them and help them.

But we can start with the ones we are given. 

By ones I am given, I don't mean my kids or my family. I mean, I kind of do. But that not exclusively who I mean. There are "God moments" every day where our lives cross with a stranger in a meaningful way and sometimes we become given to each other.  

My friend with her endless calling was given to me. To change and transform me. To teach and open my eyes. To challenge my faith.... days just like today... how many times do I answer the phone before I draw the line and attend to other matters? She pushes me to wrestle with God. And she sees me in ways others can't or don't. She knows my heart and speaks to me with a tenderness that is a gift. She challenges me to live my faith in a 1,000 different difficult way and that has transformed me as much as anything else. 

The world is hurting and so my prayer is, are there others to whom I am called to serve? The random Haitian kid that messaged me out of the blue because he remembered me visiting his orphanage when he was 5? A teenager from my church? The cashier at the grocery store that I visit every day? 

And what if I JUST prayed for them. 

I have been wrestling with God on the subject of intercessory prayer. How do i know what to pray for? When do we pray for miracles? What if God doesn't show up to answer those prayers? I've gone round and round with God over the past few months. And at the same time, I've had it on my heart to pray deeply and regularly for people that I don't know that well but who are going through some things. 

I've come to the same answer. Some people are given to us to pray for and some prayers are given to us to pray. Sometimes I understand it. Sometimes I don't. 

Honestly, for me, doing something is easier than prayer. Prayer requires vulnerability and trust. Prayer requires faith, hope and love. Prayer is the advanced course of caring for the world. And prayer has made a difference in big and small ways. Prayer unleashes miracles and catalyzes social movements. And so this Lent, I've added a practice of listening for a call to pray deeply for people and situations. And so far i have found that prayer, like service, is most natural for the "ones I've been given. "

How much of the great need of the world could we lift up if we opened our ears to hear the ones to whom we are given. 

Could I be the good neighbor and stop for someone who has fallen on my path, even if it makes me late? Could I have courage to break the ice and go deeper with someone who needs it? Do I have the stomach to open a can of worms when I know it will make my life more complicated? Do I have the courage to be vulnerable in my faith and pray with boldness and belief when my mind struggles with dissonance?

With the growth of violence and reversal in poverty trends, it is easy to see the news and feel so small. This small step of opening my eyes to those who cross my path is a way of engaging the dark world and holding my small light up. If we all did this, the light would be blinding, overwhelming.  

May the light blaze. And me we each have eyes to see those who need it.  

Day 21: Lay my burden down

 It's been a few days since I cut my hair.  I'm still getting used to it. Surprised by how easily my fingers comb through it.  How easy it is to quickly throw it up in a pony tail. 

I feel lighter.  

My head and neck feel the lightness. Like pushing around a wheelbarrow full of bricks,  then dumping it out to see how easy it is to steer without a load weighing it down.  

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

- Matthew 11:28 - 30

What is the yoke of Jesus? 

Why is the burden light?

Many early Christians were martyred for their faith.  

How is this a light yoke?

In my ongoing reading of the early church,  most early Christians believed that martyrdom was a joyous occasion. One woman asked to stop the happenings in the arena because her hair fell down and loose hair was a sign of mourning. She wanted to die in joy.  

During my retreat last weekend we talked about stages of faith.

Chaos - a place before trust. A place before seeking.  The place where fists are tight and God is not an option. A place where we have to be in control. 

Faith - the loosening of the grip.  The openness to something bigger. The seeking and finding. Joining a faith community. Developing spiritual habits. 

Wilderness - the wrestling with God. The dark place where we feel abandoned by God. Where spiritual practices don't seem to work anymore. We are alone. And in the wilderness,  we are transformed.  Our faith takes on new dimension as we find God in places where we previously could not. 

Mystery - the mature faith that holds contradictions in two hands. Where we trust past our ability to explain. Where the cross of Jesus starts to make sense.  Where God is bigger than our theology and we begin to let go even of our idea of who God is because we start to recognize how limited our own understanding is. 

This mystery,  I think,  is the yoke of Jesus. It is tethering to things so monumental as the cross and the resurrection. Things I cannot fully explain or pin down but that hold me when I cannot hold myself. 

Letting go of my very self into the vastness of God is light,  like my haircut. Weights of things I would otherwise carry as part of who I am are laid down before Jesus that I may hold onto mystery instead.