Day 4: Beyond Desperate

When my kids were little, I was overwhelmed.  Working 60 hour weeks,  starting my days at 4 in the morning,  just trying to get through. I can't remember how I ended up with it,  but I read a book called "Desperate: Hope for the mom who needs to breathe." It was the first book I had read in forever. 

It was a series of letters between a young mother of 3 and an older experienced mother who had four kids in middle and high school.  Chapters talked about laundry and beauty,  chaos and joy. It was honest.  It was fresh air. Honestsly I don't remember the specifics that well.  But I remember the relationship. How the women had met at a conference and how the younger woman was ambitious and overwhelmed.  The older woman offered her a retreat in her home and the two decided to write a book together.  

At the time,  I very much related to the young mother.  Trying to do it all.  Trying to be a good mom. Wondering if I was doing anything right. I was in awe of the older mom. How comfortable she was in her motherhood and in her place in the world.  She was full of grace and extra space that she could offer those around her,  like the young frantic mother. 

In motherhood groups there's often discussion of raising children in a "village," where kids can run freely between neighbors homes and many adults bear the load of raising them well.  I think this is a lovely image, it doesn't fully convey the reality of living in a village or right knit community. Community is built on reciprocity.  Giving and receiving. Sharing. Overstepping boundaries and asking forgiveness. I grew up in a big family,  lots of people are around yes, but it is messy and there's a lot of forgiveness involved and a high expectation that you will contribute,  do your part.  Whatever that part might be.  

As I've moved past desperate,  and have stated relating more and more with the older mom, I've had a deep desire to be part a village for other people.  But I've found something surprising.  Many people push help away.  It's a hard kind of rejection.  To work hard to make space and live generously to meet a world that would rather relate in transaction -- here's a simple example: 

It's easier and more convenient to pay doordash -- than to have people from church drop off home cooked meals.  I get it.  Door dash isn't that expensive. You can get anything you want.  Exactly on the schedule you want. And you don't have to expend the energy to make small talk with the driver.  They just leave the food and disappear.  Church ladies bring the wrong thing at the wrong time and really it's more of a hassle than helpful gesture.  

You can pay for child care,  house cleaning,  meals to be prepped and best of all you can dictate the terms for these services. You are paying someone. It is their job.  Then like a good shopper,  you can look for a person who has good reviews and provides good values. 

But then,  how can we show up as the church to each other? The very heart of Christian faith is to live as family.  To love each other as Christ has loved us. To bear with each other in patience and forgiveness. To find unity with each other. 

I'm still busy with my own tribe but in the moments I'm able to look beyond my walls to live out my call in faith,  

I struggle. 

What does it look like to show up in a world that is self sufficient?  

Therapy replaces small group Bible studies.  

Paid services replace acts of service. 

Bureaucracy creates boundaries to volunteerism. 

And the church struggles. 

My heart laments.  Self sufficiency creates isolation and loneliness.  The church has such a potent remedy for the afflictions of modern life -- deep connection, meaning and purpose -- cultivated for centuries. And yet so many people choose self-sufficiency and convenience. 

Is there a way to show up as a village,  as the body of Christ,  in this modern world? 

Day 3: Meltdown

Zander has been having EPIC meltdowns lately. 

I've gone into troubleshooting mode. Looking for patterns.  What is the trigger? What's the difference between good and bad days. My best guess is that school academics are ramping up and he's more tired.  Maybe his body is growing. 

Whatever the cause,  they are hard. And I don't have the easy button.  Snuggle with mom and watch a show.  Nope. Just nuclear meltdown with no backup plan.  

Today after maybe 45 minutes, I picked him up,  put him on my bed and said, "Mom loves you so much and you are safe. Im taking you into the shower to help your brain calm down." 

He went limp and let me take him. 

Slowly he recovered.  He played with the water.  He played with the soap.  He found his footing, his calm,  his smile.   

Sometimes, when I'm spiraling, I push back against God. I fight and argue and rationalize.  In some ways,  like Zander,  I want to stay stuck in my meltdown. Like Job, I have so much to say - maybe even to shout at God. 

But God can mother me,  with strong arms,  lifting me out of my meltdown and placing me back in the water.  Remember who you are.  

Beloved,  if you feel tired or angry or alone or ready to kick someone.... May God bring you back to the water and remind you of who you are. 

Day 2: Lent is destroying my house

My house is destroyed.  

Lent. 

Every year we give up video games. This year we added 2-3 hours of completely screen free time in the evening from 4-6ish. No show for Zander when he's tired. No news or email. No homework. It has to be done (which is why there is a little wiggle room).

There is a moment of blank stare. Ummm... what can we do.... and then explosion. Creativity. Games. Reading as a family with special snacks and blankets. Guys, it's been two days and I feel like we're at least two weeks in already. 

My house is destroyed. I keep cleaning and they keep... whatever it is they keep doing. My broom was in three pieces in three different rooms. 

I'm tired and wondering what do i even say about this beyond the obvious stump speech about screens and modern life. There's more. More to this season than just "doing better."

I think what's magical about Lent is peeling away layers of distraction to see each of my kids more deeply for who they are and who they are becoming. Wrestling with boredom pushes them to reach further and find the image bearing self. Creativity. Relationship. Nature. Curiosity. Storytelling. 

A few moments ago, i sat down to write this post with a heart of lament for so many things in the world. I had in mind to write a post on lament because my heart has been so heavy today. But i watch these little light bearers and steadily clean up the destruction behind them, my heart lightens and the corners of my mouth turn up into a small smile.  

The Holy Spirit is here at work. Teaching me what's next for these boys. I just have to keep watching. And maybe watching them will inspire me for things i can do beyond our walls to help the world that my heart laments for.  

The Kingdom of Heaven is a mustard seed. Small and hidden and unimportant. And yet it grows with love and nurturing into something large and mighty.  

Perhaps 2 hrs of internet free time will grow into something beautiful.  

Day 1: We are all becoming

 

As I entered my 40s, I was struck with an urgency to figure out what life might be like after kids. I could sense that I was starting to enter a new chapter.  

Zander set me back a few years,  but soon we were out of diapers and bottles and bouncers. Soon,  the kids won't need as much of me.  Soon,  perhaps a window will open into "what's next" I had quit my job and became a full-time homeschooling mom of 5. None of which had been on my life bingo card,  but it was a spiritually transformative journey deep into the heart of love. 

This year,  Eddie is 16 and we're studying college level subjects. He's taking classes at the community college.  Andrew is close on his heels and Philip not far behind that. I feel time passing and i feel change happening but not with the same urgency that i felt it a few years ago.  Perhaps I've gained a little wisdom.  

Back then it felt like i was edging towards  gradation and people would show up at the party and ask "do you have a plan for your life?"  I felt like i needed to do some deep discernment and chart a direction - professionally,  spiritually, emotionally -- who am i now and where am i going?

But we are all becoming... day by day,  week by week.  Shaped by our decisions and priorities.  Stuck with the voices in our heads who narrate our story and our identity as we roll through our routines and schedules. 

When I was little,  my parents loved reading a book called "the four little puppies" it was a golden book that followed four puppies through each of the four seasons. In each season,  the puppies had fun,  but as the weather changed "they couldn't play the same games anymore. "

I look around my family room.  Building blocks and trains have been replaced with a piano and a drum set. The seasons are changing and my five puppies don't play the same games. the season is changing again... And yet,  motherhood is still very demanding.  I definitely haven't graduated ... and I'm not sure i ever will. But what does God have in store for me in this moment? In this season? What am I called to be - to them and to the broader world?

I was praying about Lent and felt called to a discipline of letting go of the life that was and reaching into the life I am being called into. My younger self would have interpreted this discipline as an assignment in scheduling and short term priorities. And it may include that.  But i think more, it is a call to name who i have become and who i am becoming. To let go of who I was and the parts of myself that no longer fit with who i am and allowing myself to embrace this season of middle age more deeply.  I may also clean out a few closets.

Ashes on my forehead remind me that i was formed from dust. I was shaped in the womb and I've continued to be formed and transformed ever since. 

A few months ago one of my dearest mentors passed away and a few nights ago her widow husband called me out of the blue to catch up. The call was a treasure. We talked about her and what life was like for her near the end.  We talked about her life, her fire,  our trips together (she founded a short term mission ministry and i traveled with her to several countries and worked in her offices as a teenager). We talked about her celebration of life and what it might be like to "know in full" in the arms of God. We talked about his life now,  on his own after 68 years of marriage. Choices he's working through,  adventures he is having. Joy and grief and what it feels like to be 91. 

I met with the principal yesterday.  Miles is growing into a newer, older,  bigger body and facing new challenges at school.  Since i was there,  we talked about Zander in TK and Andrew in 8th grade.  Philip and his adjustment to middle school. 

We are all always becoming.  We are all dust. Formed by the hand of God and transformed again and again as we journey through life. 

Lent is a time to reflect on that.  To find our way home back to the one who made us. Back to who we are in this moment and this season and to who the Maker is forming us to be. 

If you haven't figured out a lenten practice yet,  perhaps ask yourself what can i let go of so that i can better hear the voice of God or what can i step into that creates space for me to open my eyes to the work that God is doing in my life to form me in this season. 

Whatever your Lent be...

May you find God. 

May you find yourself.  

May you allow yourself to be reformed in this new season of life.  

Advent 1: A Doula to the Kingdom of God

It was her first.  A big baby.  A hard delivery. There were complications and I stared into her eyes,  helping her stay grounded through the pain. I got two inches from her face, her frightened eyes needed an anchor. "Stay with me. " We breathed through it.  We collapsed in tears. 

I've been a birth doula a few times for close friends. It is hard. Birth comes unexpectedly in the middle of the night. The process is long and exhausting.  There is uncertainty,  suffering and then joy,  most of the time. 

We've been doing a series of spiritual practice workshops at our church for Advent. The most recent one focused on scripture.  We used the different practices to illuminate scripture: Ignatius tradition,  Luther's 4 Strand Garland and Lecio Divina. We read Luke 1, using each practice for different sections of the text. 

I was most struck by the reading of the story of Mary. We used Luther's Garland for this text which essentially has you re-read the text several times looking for 1. Instruction 2. Thanksgiving 3. Confession 4. Things to pray for. 

Each time I read I was struck by the juxtaposition of honor and shame.  God was honoring Mary and yet to carry Jesus was a shame. For Elizabeth,  there was shame around infertility and pregnancy was an honor. For both women,  pregnancy was the start of a long,  thankless job of birthing and raising a child. 

And then there's this little phrase at the end... "for nothing is impossible with God. "

This mediation at the beginning of Advent to me feels like an invitation to show up as a doula or midwife to the mysterious work God is doing among us today. 

Since the beginning,  God has called us to participate in the story of redemption. Noah built a boat. Jonah brought a message. Mary had a baby.  With God nothing is impossible and yet God chooses us as image bearers and as vessels to participate in the story of redemption and new creation.  

For me,  to be a doula is to show up.  In the middle of the night, to bear witness to the pain and bloody mess of this birth.  It is to own the humility, that this is God's story not mine. Who, after all,  remembers the midwife or the doula -- we want pictures and stats about the baby and we ask about the health of the mother.  Rarely,  we might ask about dad.  But who really cares about the midwife? 

I can show up and pour my whole self into it or I could stay home and live my life.  The work of God would happen with or without me and yet,  I can use my hands to comfort and care, to prepare and to receive. I can speak words of encouragement. And perhaps,  I can witness the miracle that God is birthing amongst us.  And perhaps that front row seat to God's miracles is the honor dispite the messy,  difficult nights spent holding space for their arrival.  

For Mary, there was a few minutes with an angel but there was a lifetime of sacrifice,  love and grief.  Most of it was ordinary,  cooking dinner,  keeping house and running after children. But in faithfully living out that ordinary life,  she participated in the great work God was doing. May I have the grace to humbly and faithfully follow my call to participate in the work God is doing now even when it feels mundane and wearisome. 

Lord,  whatever it is,  may it be to me as you have said.  

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!