Day 16: How on earth?

When I saw the word of the day, I thought about how I was already 2 days behind on my posting and the only thought I had was -- how on earth am I going to get that done?

How on earth.... On earth we have a lot of constraints. We have physical constraints - time, space, gravity. We have biological constraints -- strength, energy, mental aptitude. But it seems that we have longings to defy these and reach beyond them. We long to fly, to teleport, to achieve more in a day than is possible, to solve impossible problems. We were created in God's image and so, I think, we have a natural desire to be more like God. To operate outside our earthly constraints.

God became man and took on our earthly existence. He became part of our story and understands our frustrations. Still, he meets us right where we are, in the midst of our limitations and invites us to join him on a spiritual journey where we can be freed from some of our constraints. When walking in step with the Spirit, our earthly constraints are blurred. Those moments when God draws near, we can find ourselves drawn up into the supernatural. Somehow a few loaves and fish feed a crowd of 5,000. The storms of life, the winds and rain, are calmed with a word.

Day 15: I wonder what God hears?

Eddie loves to play with a wooden magnetic train set. He particularly loves to connect all the trains into one big long train and pull it along a single loop. He can, in fact, do this for hours on end if left to his own devices. There's one problem. If he makes the train too long, the magnets aren't strong enough to keep it together. When he's well-rested, not hungry and generally in his best state of mind, this presents a learning opportunity to test the strength of the magnets on different trains. However, as he gets hungry or tired, or both, the frustration associated with the train breaking apart is too much to handle and he squeals. From across the house, I can tell by the frequency of the squeals how far he is from a complete meltdown. And that, triangulated with the time of day can provide me a course of action -- feed snacks, put on movie, put in bath, read books.

Other times, he comes up to me with a 2 minute run on sentence about some imaginary thing he's playing. I'm often tempted to ignore him because on the surface, the words don't make sense. But, when I listen, I can piece together a fairly deep thought. Sentence fragments show that he's remembering an event from a prior day, a conversation we had and if I really listen, I can tell that he's telling me with genuine purpose. He's often with a great number of words trying to tell me -- I love you. I want to connect with you. I want your approval. I want your attention. 

Eddie doesn't have a developed sense of self awareness nor does he have the skills to communicate coherent thoughts. But I, in love, can hear what he wants and needs in his incomprehensible squeals. I can piece together the thought that he can't fully form in his mind yet by hearing the fragments that he is able to articulate. 

This makes me wonder. What does God hear when I pray? My attempts to approach the divine like a toddler run on sentence made up of incoherent fragments. I can't articulate or fully even mentally conjure my relationship with God but I still try. I groan in my frustrations and God hears something deeper. I can't imagine what God so simply understands. The responses to my prayers are so often what I need but not at all what I expect. I wonder what God hears underneath it all... 

Day 14: Lifting spiritual weights

Several years ago my body was a mess. I was over-weight and beginning down a path towards chronic disease. My internal signals were confused. Fatigue and stress felt like hunger. A need for activity felt like exhaustion. There was a negative feedback loop that continued to spiral me away from health. The things that made me feel better actually worsened my condition.

To turn this around, I had to push myself to suffer. I had to start really dieting which felt like starvation. I had to start exercising. My first runs made me throw up. It was a hard uphill climb. But I was determined to take back my health. As my new healthy habits became ingrained in me, I found myself awakening to my physical self. I became aware of my body's needs. I felt alive. I felt like a freshly watered plant reaching towards the sun's warm rays. When I ate junk food, it made me feel bad. When I didn't exercise I felt atrophy.

Lately I've had conversations that made me realize that our spiritual health is similar. Years of poor living. Of ignoring faith or the larger questions lead to a deadening of the soul and a misinterpretation of it's yearnings. Deep cries for purpose or a connection to something deeper mistaken for a need for more stuff or to control things.

An invitation to begin wrestling with faith can be like the first workout after a long time. Opening up to the deeper questions can create anxiety, crisis or disillusion. But, as with our physical health, once we journey down the path a while our faith feeds us and builds in us a deeper awareness of life around us. We find gratitude for the simple things, sacredness in the ordinary and a deep acceptance and trust in that bigger something in the universe that allows us to let go and wonder at the beauty of life.

Day 13: Covered in Faith

Andrew was left to his own devices with an avocado. The result, he was covered in it. We get covered in whatever our hands have been into. Work, kids, hobbies, life. What we fill our time with leaves a mark on us, both inside and out. It determines how we dress, our activity level, our mental engagement, or emotional energy.

I think I like Lent so much because it is the time of year that I intentionally seek to cover myself with God. To seep my life and my heart in mediation and prayer. I reach out and try to put my hands around faith and it squishes like ripe avocado and inevitably makes my life a little messier. I'm not all put together. I forget stuff. I miss deadlines sometime. My house gets disorganized. I take forever to get my Christmas and thank you cards out. I need to cut the grass out front. I feel bad sometimes about how much of a mess, but I can't keep myself from squishing into faith. Leaning into love. Following my heart and my call. Like Andrew, I seem to like it. This messy, God-following business makes like feel more vibrant and colorful.

Day 12: Vision

I've always had poor vision. I can remember my first pair of glasses. They changed my world. From some cloudy impressionist painting of blue blended with green, I suddenly saw trees with branches and individual leaves, blades of grass and a sharpness that took my breath away.

When I was 14, I went on my first mission trip overseas to Ghana where I worked for 2 weeks in an eyeglass clinic. In that time I fitted an 80 something year old man with a pair of thick glasses. For those of you who wear glasses, his prescription was -18. He was basically blind. When I put those glasses on him, he hugged me and started to cry. He could see.

But sight doesn't only come from the eyes. We see with our minds. We dream. We imagine. We experience something that doesn't exist anywhere else but within us. Sometimes that vision is so strong that it pushes us to act. To create a change in the world, so that we can see with our eyes and share with others the thing we imagine. Today, I got to do that.

Ever since I gave birth to Eddie, I've dreamed of an opportunity to worship with my kids. A church service where they could run up and bang on the drum. Where I could be authentic and worshipful and they could be themselves and we could experience God together. I want them to grow up seeing the faith in the world that I experience in my spirit. A joyful, exuberant, abundant faith that meets us where we are and journeys with us. Today, we experimented with a family worship service at my church. It's definitely an experiment trying to create an worship experience that speaks to everyone -- toddlers, kids, teenagers, adults. It's a crazy experiment, but amidst the shakers, crayons, and candles I had moments of authentic communion with God and I saw Eddie fully present and engaged in the service. My heart was glad. Vision.

Day 11: Reaching for light

One of the few pleasures I try to carve out time for is gardening. There is something for me that is absolutely holy and refreshing about working in the dirt and growing plants. It is a way for me to meditate in the sunlight while the kids enjoy the fresh air. I have found that is one time that I can authentically be with them while only being half present. I rake. I weed. I till dirt. I plant with Eddie and the activities are so rhythmic that a whole part of my brain can disengage and I can breath deeply and find Sabbath time.

One of the best part of gardening is that even on the days and weeks where life is too busy to attend to them, the plants grow. Day by day they shoot out new buds, new flowers, new fruit. They grow. They fill an empty space with green. With life.

Plants show the tenacity of life. Though they can't move or defend themselves, they fight to live. They come back after being trampled on. If the place where they are growing doesn't have enough light, they send out shoots searching for the light. Bending and shaping themselves to be in the light.

They offer us an image of living faith. Silent tenacity to search out life. To reach for light and allow themselves to be shaped by it.

Day 10: Walking in step with the spirit

"For who among men knows the thoughts of a man except the man's spirit within him? In the same way no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God"

Yesterday was a long, tiring day, which is why I am only posting now. I was at McDonald's letting Eddie run off steam when I had an interesting interaction that has caused me to stop and ponder a minute. When we first came in, the place was empty except for a 2 year old girl and her parents (who were a little on the older side). Eddie ran into the play area and right up to the mom and said "Hi." The mom jumped back a little and I could tell she was getting her feathers raised, quickly judging Eddie to be a hellion. Arms full of Andrew and food, I reluctantly sprang into action and called Eddie to come sit down with me at the table -- a little dismayed that my time to relax was going to be spent on guard.

We sat there and Eddie ate some bites of food, then ran to the playground. He climbed up. The little girl, feeling brave, followed him. "She's never gone that high before." I told her that Eddie used to be afraid of climbing and only recently has started going to the top of the structure. Slowly, her demeanor changed. Her guard came down. She told me how it was always full of rowdy kids which made her nervous.

Then, the place started filling up with the dinner rush. The first to come was a couple of older kids - maybe 7 yr old girl and 10 yr old boy. The boy came up to Eddie and his new little playmate and said "wanna be friends" He repeated over and over. I saw mama's tail feathers ruffle. "He's wierd." she whispered to me. He reminded me of me at that age.... awkward and socially under-developed. I saw brokenness in the room. Brokenness in the fear of the mom at a world she couldn't control. Brokenness in a boy who perhaps knew a type of loneliness

We have such a hard time recognizing and communicating with each other. We are so caught up in our own stories. Our fears, our loneliness, our pride, our tiredness that we don't take the time to really see who's around us and what's going on with them. And even if we do happen to notice each other's words and actions, we can't understand the spirit behind them. I don't know what was really going on under the surface. But in each of them I sensed something deeper going on and had a flickering desire to offer compassion.

God can teach us new ways to see the world, the languages of love and compassion that allow us first to notice and then to be moved by compassion. We can learn to walk in the ways of the spirit and offer light if we just take a moment to be present.

Day 9: The nature of God

LOVE. I could go so many directions with this. Like how I have fallen in madly love with each of my two boys from that first moment they breathed, through those early months nursing them in the middle of the night. Or how love drives out fear. Pushes you to take new steps in your life. How it makes you selfless. Sleeping on the floor of the hospital when your child is sick. But as I pondered a picture to take, I saw love on my messy dining room table.

Despite our crazy hectic life... I decided that Ulrich deserved fancy seafood Italian dinner and a beer. For no reason other than -- why not. Of course, we have kids. Life is a mess. So, I didn't serve it with jazz and candlelight as I would have in years past but it didn't matter. It was still special. We are in the middle of life together.

I am so fortunate to have a great marriage. Ulrich and I are best friends. Two peas in a pod. Working together. Raising kids. Pushing each other to grow. Talking for hours. We never tire of each other. And it seems with every year that goes by I find myself growing into him more. I feel that with each passing day we can represent each other to the outside world. We can cover for each other's weaknesses and highlight each other's strengths. We can make independently decisions that fully incorporate each of our own opinions. Of course, it's not perfect. We are still selfish. We find ourselves in tussles that involve each of our own pride. Each of our own wanting to be first. We hurt each other by not being fully present for the other. We get tired and cranky. We are in a word, human.

God is love. This is more than a tagline. I think it is the essence of God's nature. The being of God, we understand to be the trinity - a relationship. Three separate entities that so perfectly love that they are in fact one. As much as God is eternal and omnipotent so is God love. For me, lent is a season to reflect on what that means. For God came and dwelt among us. Revealing to us their very nature - Love. On a cross. On Easter morning. A way to teach us deeply the nature of God and the way of love. It is a holy mystery that we can grow into. Peeling away layers as we mature in our faith. I doubt anyone truly, fully grasps in whole. But I don't think we are expected to. Rather, we are asked to open ourselves to be transformed by mimicking Christ. Allowing love and light to seep into our being that we too may walk the way of the cross.

Day 8: Penetrating the dark

In my time overseas, I've witnessed child slavery, human trafficking and organized crime. Even here in the States, I've seen pregnant women addicted to crack, abusive relationships and exploitation.  It is hard not to be overwhelmed by the magnitude. By the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you see something awful on the news or even worse in person.  Evil is dark. It sucks hope. It usurps our joy and makes us feel lost and alone.  

Light penetrates the darkness. We can with one small act of light defy the darkness that threatens to consume us. We have to choose light. We have to choose light over convenience, over complacency, over selfish ambition. I think it is easy to dismiss evil by saying it is too big and too far away to tackle. But truthfully, it is not that big nor that far away. It lurks under the surface until it boils up into something big and nasty. And if we had taken time to be light -- to offer a different path, to smile, to listen, to give hope -- then maybe she wouldn't turn to drugs. Maybe he wouldn't beat his wife. Maybe .... we cannot control the actions of others. But equally, we cannot control the ripple effects of offering light to a world that needs it. Sometimes the ordinary acts of kindness are nothing short of a miracle that someone is looking for.

Day 7: Approaching life with wonder

One of the best parts of being a mom is watching the wheels turn in those cute little heads as they learn -- how to move their limbs, what gravity is, how to speak, that animals are living creatures. For them, the world is AMAZING every day.

We age. We learn how stuff works. We get jaded that things aren't really magic. There is always a logical explanation -- for sunsets, for rainbows, for good weather, for laughter. There's science behind it. But does science make life any less wonderful? Being married to a scientist who can explain why anything is the way it is has turned me into a kid again, asking why and wanting to learn more.

Lately, our business has been focusing on building fertility tests. I've been studying everything there is to know about how babies are made. I've been looking at sperm under the microscope. And.... I am in wonder. Life itself an amazing mystery -- chemistry somehow works to give rise to life. I look at those little sperm and just try to fathom for a moment that one of those became that baby in the picture.

And if you zoom out. The world is teaming with life. Microscopic life that we can't see. Majestic creatures that we teach our toddlers about. Cycles of life that happen without our knowing or caring in the depths of the oceans, the deserts, the polar caps. And if you zoom out further.... somewhere...

God is.

wonder.

Day 6: In the world, but not of it

In John 17, just prior to his arrest and crucifiction, Jesus prayed....

 "I have given them your word, and the world has hated them ...They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. Sanctify them in the truth;... As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. "

One of the most challenging calls in faith is to live fully present and engaged in the world while not allowing it to shape who we are. Living out your faith truly and authentically, inevitably will piss someone off. At the heart of this journey is a way of life that is in conflict with society at large -- things like speaking truth and dying to self. For this, Jesus found himself on a cross. These 40 days invite us into a space that is uncomfortable. But by allowing the world's judgement that tries to define who we are and aren't to melt away, we make space for a new identity rooted in the divine. In this new identity we find peace that passes understanding. The calm to face storms. The depth to fight injustice. The unshakable that comes with building upon the rock.

May your journey be blessed and may you know that though you are in the world, it does not define you. Sail on.

Day 5: Settled

This is Eddie's room. It was the first room I painted and organized when we moved into our house. I wanted him to have a space to call home. He was nearly a year old and we had spent that year bouncing from place to place. I had a deep need to nest. A deep need to be settled. So did he.

Two years have passed. Eddie's room is still my favorite place in the house. I feel so much love in his room. The bright colors, the cheery memories, my cozy rocking chair -- a vantage point from which I watch him and Andrew grow day to day and week to week. Between the first day we moved in and now, there has been an accumulation of stuff from birthdays and Christmas and trips down to the thrift store on rainy days. Much like silt settles on the bottom of the river, so we find that with the passing of time, layers of stuff begin to accumulate in the rooms of our lives.

As I meditated on today's word, SETTLE, I found myself searching for the balance between rejuvenation and complacency. In one hand, putting down roots and forming a schedule gives us a degree of certainty from which we can go forth into the world with strength knowing we have a place to retreat back to. In the other, settling can create a form of passiveness - the layer of fat around the mid-section, the rut of going to work and coming home without inviting in the color life has to offer. Settling for the life our teenage selves would have cringed at.

I thought of my two boys. How much time I spent settling them down, particularly for bed.  I can imagine God looking down at me when I'm over-tired or wound up with doubt and anxiety and thinking that I need to be settled down. And, the Spirit comes to mother me. To bring me what I need before I know what or how to ask. To help me find calm even when I'm fighting it.

In faith, we need a home base. A place of calm. A place to return to. One that gives us strength to go out and live out our call in the world. For me, I find that in a quiet communion with God. In moments and prayers that become nearly palatable with peace. In weather that reminds me to live my day with gratitude. But I have to remember that this calm, warm hovering of the Spirit is not my journey's end. Rather, a beckoning forward that invites me to lean into the call I was made for.

Day 4: Injustice breeds compassion

January 2010 - Eddie was three months old. Haiti had a terrible earthquake. Every part of me wanted to get on a plane and help with the relief efforts. Eddie was too young for me to leave him. I stayed home.

I helped every way I could. I organized groups. I translated. I shared my knowledge of Haiti to the droves of people who responded - immediately and with deep compassion. I was amazed at the response. Anarchists working with the UN. Atheists working with Baptist missionaries. Philosophical dividing lines set aside for the moment as a gut reaction to a great injustice moved people with compassion. They were compelled and could find no other way.

A dear friend painted this painting for me during that time. Each day she prayed deeply for Haiti and meditated on an image of a woman's face . She gave it to me as a going away gift as I left our church community in Davis to follow a new call to life in Livermore.

Livermore has caused me to come face to face with a great number of hidden injustices. There aren't blatant starving children here or epidemic disease or crippling poverty. But, I feel injustice, when recognized breeds compassion. Injustice when disguised can breed contempt. My gut reaction to the types of injustices experienced in places like Livermore has been, in a word, "whatever." A failure to recognize the injustice around me creates a false sense of arrogance. Snap judgments lead to an inability to empathize. "If that were me, I would do X and therefore I would never be in that position." But the reality is, the sources of injustice are real. Discrimination, disease, abuse, poverty, societal structures cage people into lives with few options.    I've had to open my eyes to recognize the injustice that surrounds me here in the suburbs and open my heart to the compassion that follows....

Day 3: Seeing injustice

I was so excited about today's word, SEE. I meditated on the sunlight and the happiness of my two little guys during our picnic at the park. I thought about the gardeners that I passed on my bike. I thought about this beautiful weather, the sun, the sky, the warmth of God's hand in my life. I'd like to write about that.

But truth is, I've been looking at this rental application and have struggled with how I might fill it out.

What I see is injustice.

For three years I have been helping a homeless woman get back on her feet. She was every sort of mess and heartache that comes with homelessness. For some reason, God called me to her and with an inability to do otherwise, I have journeyed with her and learned a great deal (which in itself could be the topic of a whole blog).  In 2011, with a lot of help from Upstairs, she finally took the big step and got into an apartment.

I was uplifted to see her do so well. Taking control of her life, exerting a bit of independence, acting responsibly.  Of course, she was far from perfect and she still had days that pushed against social norms that we are all expected to adhere to. But -- that aside -- she was doing pretty well.

Her apartment complex changed management. They switched everyone to month to month and slowly started to evict people. They had good reason. There was domestic violence, drug dealing, and all sorts of unsavory situations in that apartment complex. The buildings themselves were also in poor repair and they were using the opportunity to repair the apartments and rent them out at higher rates to more stable tenants. In November, my friend got a notice on the door. She wasn't blameless, but she was far from deserving -- she paid her rent on time, the apartment was in perfect condition -- my heart sank for her. She has an 18 month old little girl with special needs who has turned her world around.

She cried to me. "I can't let my baby be homeless."

"God will provide." I promised. Hoping in my heart that my prayers would be heard. Though December, January and into this month, I have held on to the promise that God will provide and have been looking for a place.

An apartment opened up a few blocks from my house. $865 a month. The cheapest I've seen in town. Her monthly income is $1,095 plus food stamps. It could work. Its only a few blocks away.

So I've been staring at the rental application and debating how to fill it out -- Evictions? Must have income equal to 3x rent? I have tried explaining the situation honestly to several owners and apartment managers. Once they know the situation, the dialog turns silent and I find myself back on Craigslist. So I ponder the deep ethical questions and ask myself -- what would Jesus do?

Day 2: Returning home

I was talking to Ulrich about this post and he made a great point. Life is cyclical. It has seasons. A time of coming and going, working and resting, action and reflection. There is rhythm in our days and nights, our weeks, our months, our years. We are constantly returning. Returning to work, returning home, returning to holidays and our birthdays. It is Lent. I am trying to return to God.

I have been out all day in the city trying to raise money for our start up. Dressed in uncomfortable clothes and shoes. Thinking hard. Reacting. Working. I came back to my in-laws house to kids who missed me and needed me. After spending some time there, we packed the kids up and headed home.

I had been thinking about this post all day. The word RETURN. All I could think of was my bed. I thought of how hard days and long trips make us miss our beds. We want to come home. In today's case, I had left the house a mess and the lovely young lady who lives in our in-law unit came and tidied up. It was, for me, sheer grace. I had not a single ounce of energy left and I came home to peace.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matt 11:28)

Finding God, at times is like coming home to your own bed. To your favorite pillow and most comfortable pjs. There is a peace in the soul and we find rest. It is part of the spiritual rhythm to be nourished and sent forth renewed.

Day 1: Ash Wednesday. Who Am I?

Last year I posted everyday to this blog as a meditation and reflection for Lent. It was a deeply spiritual practice and so this year, I will attempt to do it again. I am also going to try to incorporate the Photo a Day idea that the Methodist Church had. Its a powerful, simple way to share our stories and have a collective devotion during these sacred days.

As I reflect on the day and the question Who am I, the imposition of Ashes, the squirmy kids at church, pouring my heart into our business, trying to still be a light and feeling somehow not quite enough at the end of it all. I find God. I am a child of God.

Eddie drove a toy truck down the aisle as we received our ashes. He was overtired and had a short attention span. It was a special moment. Andrew received ashes for the first time. This is his first lent and I was drawn into the journey we will take towards his baptism. It was silent and holy. I was messy and holding two small children. Kneeling on the floor. I looked up and the words "From dust you came and to dust you shall return." For me. For Eddie. For Andrew. Calamity meets Sacred. Life meets Death. Every forehead was marked. This moment meets eternity and I was struck by how God could meet me so simply where I was.

Every Lent with my best ability, I try to meet God and despite all my efforts, God bends low and meets me where I am and draws me into himself. Easter is waiting beyond every Good Friday and I hold on to the promise as I press toward Jerusalem.