Day 47: He is Risen!

 

We stood in a solemn circle at the edge of the church's garden. The warm sunlight on our backs and the birds singing all around us. They were all dressed in their frilly dresses

This is a beautiful place.  Often when people die,  we bring them to rest in a beautiful place.  Who has lost a person or a pet? What did you do after that?

They share stories of spreading ashes and funerals.  

Jesus died late in Friday.  His friends were terribly sad.  They could not leave him on the cross. So they took him down and brought him to a beautiful place like this. They set him in a cave.  But they did not have time to bury him properly.  It was too late. So they put a big stone in front of the cave and made a plan to come back to say goodbye. 

What is the day after Friday?

Saturday. 

Do you remember what Jewish people are not allowed to do on Saturday?

Um.... um.... oh. Oh oh oh. They can't work.

That's right.  And burying someone is considered work.  

So on Saturday,  they sat at home thinking about Jesus. Wanting to finish his burial.  They sat and felt sad.  

As soon as the first bit of light rose in the sky on Sunday morning all the women who loved Jesus ran to his grave to finish his burial.  But when they entered the garden they could see from a long way that the big stone was gone.

 Something was wrong.

They were afraid.  Who could have come and stolen his body? Who would even do that? 

They walked cautiously to the grave. Looking for signs of who might have taken him. When suddenly an angel in bright clothes came out and said

Jesus is not dead.  He is alive!

And when they turned.  They saw him.  He was alive! He was there in the garden alive and breathing.  

They ran to him and then they ran back to tell the disciples.

Now somewhere in this beautiful garden,  Jesus is hiding.

But there is something else. 

Jesus is the Good Shephard. And Jesus will not stop until all of his sheep are with him. So our in this garden are also 100 naughty sheep who escaped.  We need to find all of them. 

They dashed into the field. 10 sheep, 20.

34 sheep. 

57 sheep.  

82.

The sheep were tiny.  The garden was silent as diligent lookers looked for sheep.  It was meditative. The warm sun on my back,  my eyes trained on the ground. The sheep were tiny and the grass was tall.  Maybe we wouldn't find them.  

Found one!

Every couple of minutes we'd find another and everyone would cheer.

85.

91.

97.

Jesus won't stop until he brings every last one of us home. 

Alleluia. He has risen indeed. 

Day 46: Holding vigil with children

 We went a few rounds with how to spend the day.  There were house projects that could be done.  Beautiful weather to enjoy.  Easter to prepare for. And 5 boys to consider.  

I went for my morning run, then I took Zander to the grocery store. During the morning errands I had time to think and realized that ending Lent was a big deal to the kids and getting video games back on a day crammed with church and family was probably not going to go over well.  Plus I wanted a less rushed was to usher in Easter.  I wanted to linger in the story.  

So we decided to hold our own vigil.  

The first 3 hours of the vigil was cleaning the property front to back.  We started with clipping bushes and sweeping sidewalks.  We cleaned the porch,  washed windows and moved inside.  Mopping,  dusting,  vacuuming.  Room by room.  The boys worked eagerly.  40 days of waiting for Minecraft will do that to a kid.  

They started losing steam by the time we got to the back yard,  so I decided to skip organizing the shed. But I got a good 3 hours out of them and that felt like a win.  

It felt like a vigil. 

We were making our home ready for the risen Lord. I think the boys felt that in some place.  They were diligent in their work. It felt like a good way to meditate on the coming celebration. 

Supplies for Easter basket were in my room.  I don't usually do Easter baskets but miles had counted down the days of Lent faithfully.  He had read a book about chocolate bunnies and he spied them in the grocery store "look mom,  a rabbit wrapped in cellophane!!!" I had to get it.  So I added a few more treats and a little gift for each boy.  A new train for Zander.  A stuffie for miles.  Books for the older boys and fidgets for the whole group.  

The pile of goodies lay on the floor next to my bed. I assigned the job to miles.  Build the Easter basket.  His eyes widened with joy. And he hurried to get to work.  

Eddie,  grab "The lion the witch and the wardrobe. "

Philip,  Andrew "get snacks for everyone and meet me in the back yard."

The boys rushed off to prepare their jobs for our unconventional family service.  Snacks,  drinks,  a book, and all the boys settling into swings ready to rest and listen. 

I had seen on Facebook several years ago that one of the families from my church growing up gathered together on good Friday to read the appropriate sections of "The lion, the witch and the wardrobe " with the children. I thought it a beautiful way to remember the passion in a way that works for littles. 

At this point,  we've read the whole series 3 or 4 times,  so my boys know the story well.  I cracked the book and started reading. Recognition dawned on them as they heard analogs to the real story.  Sadness in the garden.  Walking on,  alone.  Accompanied by women up the hill.  The jeering and humiliation.  Even Peter, the high king of Narnia and the rock upon which the church would be built.  As I read,  the boys piped up the commentary.  

Lucy and Susan held vigil over Aslan through the night. Cold and sad, they sat with the body. 

"That's the vigil,  mom!" A chorus of boys rang out. 

"You are right." I replied.  And so we switch to the vigil readings. But we are going to do this as a game. I am going to start the reading and you are going to tell me the story and the book of the Bible. And you're going to tell me why you think it would be added to the list of readings for the vigil. Also,  you can guess what story might be next "

And so I read the readings. Creation.  The flood.  Abraham. The parting of the sea.  Psalms.  Isaiah.  Ezekiel and the dry bones.  

I only read a few words to start each before they interrupted with the summary and their ideas about why that story was chosen. 

Finally I started the reading of the resurrection.  I gave a few words at a time. 

"Palm Sunday?" Philip guessed. 

By the second sentence, they knew and they jumped up our of their swings.  

"You're right! Miles go get the Easter basket and bring it out. "

Miles hurried out and came back with the basket of treats. He set it in the middle of the circle. I finished the reading and then switched back to Narnia and read the analogous part.  I read up through the part where Aslan begins to revive the statues in the witch's garden. 

When I finished there were "Aleluias he has risen!" As boys dove into the basket.  Chocolate and everyone talking at once. Zander overcome with joy at his new train.  

We were there.  We came to the dark quiet garden and bore witness to the risen Lord. He was not there where we left him on Friday.  He was gone.  

I told the boys afterward that we now have the same job as those women.  We are going to church early tomorrow to hide eggs and play bells. We are going early to help the church tell the story.  Just like the women.  They ran back and told the disciples.  

They smiled at me.  They loved the job.  They are excited to do it. I am too. 

"Alleluia! HE HAS RISEN! "

"He has risen indeed, Alleluia!!"

See you tomorrow.  It's time to party!

Day 44: My God, My God why have you forsaken me

For many years,  this verse was a deep comfort. 

To tell the story,  we have to go back to my 8th grade self. I had one of those God moments that are written about in books.  That's a story for another day but the main point is - I had the "juice."

I was young and naive and able to trust God beyond common sense.  I walked from miracle to miracle.  The lives of the faithful had all been marked by miracles in nearly all the stories I had read,  so I assumed that's what life lived by faith looked like.  

I had moved to Haiti and started a computer school. I traveled around gathering donations and bringing them to people who needed them. I stayed with strangers. I escaped danger. And I trusted God fully.  

But one day,  things turned. People got angry at me.  Blamed me for problems and turned on me. I found myself alone, far from home, in a big empty Haitian church.  And I prayed my heart out.  I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for next steps.  I prayed to an impenetrable wall.  

The Spirit of God had gone away from me. 

I was cloaked in grief. 

Inconsolable grief.  

Why would God leave me? 

Where had God gone? 

How could I live without the presence of God going before me?

"My God,  My God,  why have you forsaken me?"

I pondered those words from Christ. 

Why had God gone away In the moment of Jesus greatest suffering? 

How could God go away when Christ was God?

I held on to those words as almost a promise.  They were a mystery.  Perhaps one of the deepest mysteries of faith.  

God is with us always.  And yet.  In this moment,  in the hardest obedience, Jesus was alone without the presence of God.  

God was at work in the cross. God can be at work in me in the moments where I cannot find God.  

Next next few years were a haze. I had lost my constant companion and guide and I cycle through the stages of grief. Rage,  bargaining,  despair, denial, acceptance and rage again.  And nothing but darkness and silence from God no matter how much I begged for just one moment of certainty.  

And Jesus said to Thomas.  "Blessed are those who do not see and yet believe. "

I must learn to live out faith in the absence of God.  And so I did.  I continued my work.  I carried on a before just without miracles or certainty or clarity. 

I kept going in the fog of uncertainty.  Placing one foot in front of the other. Jesus pleading to God from the cross affixed in my mind. 

And one day,  God came back.  Differently. More shadowy.  Harder to see.  Harder to know.  But there. 

Those words get me every Good Friday.  I have no way to empathize with Jesus.  The suffering. The separation from God that dark afternoon.  But I had a season where the sun was blotted out from the place where God should have been and my world was dark.  And I thank Jesus for that cry. His words gave me strength. 

 

Day 43: I'll never be satisfied

While fasting, I gave myself one exception.  I could drink anything that was caffiene- free and calorie free (or very low calorie). 

Through out the day I got myself special little drinks, but what would normally be very satisfying fell flat. There was no sustenance and as much as they had lovely flavor and cool refreshment,  they could not quench my need. I almost didn't want to drink them. 

It didn't matter how much I drank, I still felt empty.  My mind started thinking about verses about being satisfied 

 "Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled"

I've had to work a lot on trying to be content.  But nature, I'm restless.  There is so much need in the world.  So much I can and should do. 

Like drinking on an empty stomach,  I can work and do and achieve and still feel unsatisfied.  I want to make the world a better place.  The world is just so damn big and I am just so limited. 

But these two verses offer two very beautiful promises.  

1. In faith,  we can be quenched.  We can find water that satisfies. 

2. We are blessed when we hunger for a just and equitable world, at the banquet we shall be filled. 

During my days of fasting,  I think about my dinner feast and there is that hope of delicious favorite foods that helps me keep pushing through. 

These is a day coming where we will be satisfied. When the world will be healed and whole,  just and equitable.  It will be a feast for the soul that will satisfy. True contentment like post- Thanksgiving pie. 

I look forward to day. Easter is around the corner. 

Day 42: Jesus and Jazz

 I felt my bones ache with homesickness the moment I walked in the room.  I hadn't expected that.  We were early for service,  Andrew was dressed up to help serve Communion.  We had been talking about confirmation,  Easter and the early church.  All my thoughts were on him and on helping him learn the rhythm of this holy week.  

But when I walked in the sanctuary,  the musicians were practicing. The normal chairs in rows had been replaced by card tables covered in crisp white linens with glasses and a candle.  

And I was transported. 

Back to a time before kids when I had all the time in the world for music and good food and experimental worship services.  I remember preaching and living in community so beautifully that it made me think that was what the early church must have been like.  

And then we moved and had kids and started a startup and the memory of that life faded from view.  

I tell stories from time to time or share best practices,  things that worked, different ways to being church. But I hadn't felt it in my bones for ages. I didn't realize how much I missed it. 

As I sat,  soaking it in,  I saw Philip intently watching the drummer quietly moving his hands and feet in rhythm with her.  I saw Andrew uncomfortably,  but diligently playing his role. And I felt a joy of sharing something of my past with boys now old enough to understand it.  

Service began.  It was set in a jazz restaurant.  Four chairs around square tables scattered around the alter. Musicians jamming the prelude behind it. Trumpet, trombone,  piano, recorder, cello, each taking a turn at lead.  Music gave way to the reading of the gospel of John.  

 Heated towels were brought to tables by servers (the confirmands dressed in full formal blacks) and handed to us with tongs. We washed each other's hands. Baskets of bread and casks of wine brought and shared around the table. It felt light and lively and I was transported back in time to those lively early gatherings of the church when people broke bread to celebrate the resurrection.  It was a party. 

The service grew serious as we moved to Gethsemane. Lights went low.  Instruments dropped from the ensemble until we were left with just the cello.  Jesus alone in the garden praying.  Jesus betrayed.  

We stripped the alter in darkness and silence. Strike the candles. Strike the flowers and the white linens.  Hand in hand we carried them away.  The alter bare. The Christ candle alone in the darkness. The music stopped.  The jazz was gone.  

So many things stirred in me.  

The music in my soul. I wanted to be in the band.  

The story,  the service,  the preaching.  

My kids participating.  

Sitting with friends.  Friends who felt like me than acquaintances. Friends who I have shared life with. I was homesick and home at the same time.  

I was content and longing.  

Warm towels delivered by Andrew who was wearing a suit because he wanted to participate in the ancient tradition of catechumens joining worship during Holy week. 

The ancient and the contemporary blending in the room and in my heart.  

The spirit of God hovered over me in all these things and called me forward into some unknown future while connecting me to a rich and beautiful past. 

And in all these things i felt like I had spent an hour with Jesus

He reminded me of the simple command followed me out of the room: Love each other as I have loved you.  

"I'll try, Jesus,  I'll try. "

Day 41: Parenting teenagers

It was just before 6 am. I swear I could hear the front door open and close.  I reached my hand across the bed. Ulrich was still there sleeping. Zander was snuggled in close to me.  He must have shown up sometime in the night.  I was sleepy and confused.  I drifted back to sleep. 

30 minutes later,  Philip came creeping in and all of us were starting to stir. I heard the front door again.  I reached again.  Ulrich was still there.  

"Eddie?" I tried.  

"Yes mom. " came the chipper voice.  

Eddie is always the last one up.  Usually I have to drag him out of bed at 8:00 after the littles have left for school.  My wheels started turning... I was still groggy and waking up.  

"Eddie,  come here.  Were you outside?"

"Ya,  I went for a scoot."

"Were you up all night?"

".... ..... .... um ya. "

It is a common problem among neurodivergent folks to struggle with insomnia.  Eddie has for most of his life. He's pulled more all-nighters in his 15 years than I have in my nearly 45. 

His brain gets ultra- fixated on something and just can't let go. Common culprits include contraband YouTube,  reading,  maybe even math.  Tonight,  it was Pathfinder, his favorite role playing game.  

Suddenly,  I was thrown into toddler parenting.  My goal for the day was to make sure he got lots of light,  de-escalated his brain and made it through with whatever function he can squeak out. 

I was annoyed.  This was a heavy school day.  I had set aside time for teaching and learning together.  But my plans were going to have to change.  

There's a special stress in homeschool.  When kids go to school I have a trust that they are "doing OK. " If I'm not hearing from teachers,  grades are reasonable and the kid isn't complaining,  I generally assume everything is as it should be.  

But education is like making sausage and when i started homeschooling I got a front row seat to the sausage factory. 

On one hand,  I know that homeschool is generally shorter hours and more flexible for the same amount of progress.  In the other hand,  I constantly worry that we don't get enough done. I want to be confident when I respond to people - yes,  homeschool was the right choice, they are doing great.  Here is all the proof. 

Days like today test me.  I feel like throwing the book at him.  "Natural conquences will teach him." I reason. "I need to push him anyways. "

My other voice chimes in,  "He needs to learn to master this disability.  We all have demons,  this is his.  Natural consequences don't show anyone how to fix something. They provide motivation."

I decided to teach. At great annoyance. 

It was a monastic day.  The boys helped me systematically clean the house. Make the beds.  Wash the laundry.  Sweep the floors.  Put away toys.  Clear the table.  Wash the dishes.  Take out the garbage.  After the house was in reasonable shape,  we walked to the grocery store for dinner ingredients. We stopped at the thrift store to pick up a waiter uniform for Andrew to wear to the Maundy Thursday service tomorrow. Andrew pointed out a sign that read "some days success is getting the laundry into the dryer before mildew sets in. " "Ain't that the truth" I thought.  "At least I for laundry done today. "

Then we went to church and stuffed candy into Easter eggs. We listened to the audio book "Life Worth Living" and we had a discussion about people we admired and people we wanted to be like and if those lists were the same or different.  I dropped Eddie at youth group with a scooter and a plan for him to scoot home. 

Bedtime was thoughtful. I reminded him of all the good habits that help sleep come easily and naturally. I took his laptop and many books.  I sat in the rocking chair next to his bed while the boys listened to books. He's not asleep yet but he's on his way. 

I don't have many years left with this boy. And I know this demon will follow him out into the world and he's going to have to learn on his own but I  want to give him a map, a practice,  a ritual to help him find his way back when he falls off the edge. 

Parenting is so hard and it is the thing that helps me know the heart of God. To love so hard and to give freedom at the same time. We're all a bunch of teenagers making poor choices.  And God is there loving us,  trying to give us a map,  a practice,  a ritual to find our way home. 

I have a lot of uncertainty in my theology,  but one thing I trust fully and know is that God will always draw us home.  We may take different routes.  

Each of my kids is different. Andrew doesn't struggle with all- nighters like Eddie does,  neither does Philip or Miles or Zander...  at least not yet. Eddie is different and his struggles are different and the way I parent him and the map and tools that I will try to give him are different than those I will give the others. 

I imagine it is this way with God. 

This week is one of those ever repeating parenting moments God spends on me. Like sitting in the rocking chair next to Eddie's bed,  God walks me through the week, the story,  the same questions I always wrestle with.  Etching ever deeper the way home, those things that bring me back when my life goes off the rails and I don't have the capability to find my way back on my own.  

I'm thankful that God keeps working on me. 

To all of you parenting teenagers (and little people).  God be with you.  Grant you wisdom to find the right tools and rituals to give them a map back from wherever they go that makes you worry.  And may God grant you peace in knowing that you are not alone in parenting that child. God is parenting them with you.  God will be with them even in places you cannot be.  And may,  at the end of the day,  God remind you how very precious that baby is, how they've filled your heart with joy over the years and how they've changed you as much as you have raised them.  

Thank you God for parenting me. And thank you for teaching me through my children. And thank you for teaching me how to parent my children. Continue to focus my heart with love and my mind with wisdom that I may reflect you to them as they reflect you to me.  

Amen. 

Day 40: Freedom

 I braced myself for another hard day. 

For Holy Week I've decided to do a fast until the evening meal.  It's been a daily micro-walk through the passion story. Remembering the passion when I'm hungry or uncomfortable and Easter when I'm tasting the feast at the end of the day.  

Yesterday was hard. I was still having caffiene withdrawal and I haven't done a long fast in a while so my body was not ready.  I was nauseous by like 2pm and clawed my way to the end of the day.  But everything was better with pizza.  

So, this morning,  I braced myself for today.  The hardness of it gave me all the more resolve that it was a good practice even if it meant I didn't get a lot done this week. 

I went about my morning. Drinking my water at McDonald's while the boys had breakfast. I chuckled looking at the cup lid.  Like God was telling me something.

I came home and helped the boys with school and cleaned. I went for a short run.  We picked up Zander and went for a walk,  then we went to the church to stuff candy into Easter eggs. I chuckled again looking at little bag of dark chocolates.  

Then I realized, it was 1pm and I didn't have a headache yet.  Not did I really feel that hungry. Interesting.  But afternoon was coming.  Zander was sure to melt down in the midst of a sudden onset of discomfort.... I was sure of it.

I dropped Eddie off to the gym and Andrew off to bell practice.  They both had scooters and would bring themselves home in an hour and a half.  For now,  it was just me and Zander.  

Zander was hungry so I made him a plate of grapes and chicken nuggets. I vowed that I would be eating chicken nuggets this week or other crap food. If I'm going to eat,  it has to be at least semi resurrection worthy.  It has to make my heart smile to eat it.  

Eddie and Andrew showed up on time and Ulrich came 20 minutes later while Zander and I were building an epic train track.  

I left to pickup miles and Philip from school.  We often go to McDonald's for homework.  It's easier to focus there for miles.  So we got a snack and the two boys went to work.  I pulled out my calendar and started working on hourly plans for the rest of the week. 

As I calendared, it dawned on me. It was 4pm. No hunger.  No headache. 

Maybe I've done it.  Maybe I'm free from the caffiene withdrawal.  

The verse popped into my head "if the son sets you free,  then you shall be free indeed. "

It was a tiny moment of freedom. I felt fine.  Normal. I wasn't in pain or hunger. I didn't feel brain fog.  

I came home to dinner cooking. I expected the scent to bring on the hunger but it never came. When it was time to eat,  I ate and when I finished,  I felt the same. The food was good and I was content but my body didn't feel full,  it just felt done eating. 

"They shall not hunger anymore,  nor shall they thirst."

To be born into the resurrection I think may be an experience of freedom that we could scarce imagine.  A physical, biological existence but one free from the limitations - able, pain free,  addiction free, hunger free,  groggy free, stress free, free from exhaustion. 

Perhaps this is why they didn't recognize Jesus. He was free and he is calling us into that freedom.