Day 41: Rejoice

I feel light.  There is a lot going on in life right now. I should feel heavy, but I don't. Easter is coming.

Today is the start of Passover. A feast celebrating freedom. God's promise. The parting of the ocean and the dry land that God makes for us to walk through. I may find myself backed up against the ocean, but God can part it. Today is the day I remember that and remember the heritage of my faith.

My family is coming tomorrow. We are going to Yosemite for Good Friday. Andrew is getting baptized on Saturday. And Easter comes on Sunday.

Today's word is Rejoice and so I do. With all of creation, I rejoice in what God has done, is doing and will do. For, it is good.

Day 40: Blessed

Today I had the amazing opportunity to view the passion from the eyes of a toddler. In place of Sunday school this morning we had a worship service, where all the kids walked the final steps of Jesus into and through Jerusalem. In order to tell the story at in an age appropriate way, we divided the kids into groups.  I had the honor and the challenge of leading the 5 and under group.

How could I tell them this story? How could they connect with it?

We began the service by waving our palm branches for king Jesus. We pet a newborn lamb. We remembered the good shepherd. We took water bottles and sprayed each other's stinky feet. We got clean for dinner. We shared a special meal, like Jesus did with his disciples. Each of the foods had a special meaning. Jesus tells us that he is always with us when we eat the bread and drink the special grape juice. He shared it with his best friends and he shares it with us.

We went to the garden to pray with our friends. Like Jesus did.
But something was wrong. Bad men came and took Jesus away. They beat him up. Then, they made him carry this heavy cross. They hung him on it. It was hot out. He was thirsty. They left him there. We left him there too.

We are blessed by this story at each retelling. We are blessed by a God that doesn't give up by any measure to reach us. We are blessed to live in a place where we can retell the story freely to our children and not fear the consequences for us or for them. We are blessed by the week that is unfolding. A week of passion, of pain and of suffering. A week of promise, light and Resurrection. Blessed by the cross.

Day 39: It's worth the effort

I spent much of the day cleaning the concrete pad behind our house where our garage should be. Since the moment we moved in here, I have been at constant battle to make this space at least semi-presentable and usable. But, it is the only convenient place on our property to "temporarily" store stuff that we need to get rid of, and hence the battle.

Restoration takes monumental effort. It seems like falling apart is the natural way of things. The house gets messy, buildings and cars get old, gardens get full of weeds or overgrown and so, we roll up our sleeves and get to work. After those hours of working on a project - shining the silver, touching up the wall with new paint, polishing our shoes -- I find deep exhilaration admiring the object of my labor. It somehow reaches a potential I knew it had and makes the world just a little brighter.

Relationships too take effort to restore. I remember my teenage years left me and my mother on far sides of a monumental chasm. We were such different people with such different views on the the world. But I loved her. She loved me. And so, we began the work of restoring, rebuilding and renewing the relationship. It took effort on both sides. Forgiveness. Humility. Acceptance. Effort that was not wasted. I can't even begin to describe how incredible it is to be best friends and the share openly and honestly all the ups and downs of life. The joys and hardships of raising my own two boys with the woman who raised me.

Faith too requires the work of restoration. Finding faith is an amazing experience. Connecting with God for the first time. Taking that leap to reach out and find greater purpose in the universe. But, inevitably, like a garden, weeds start growing. Doubt. Pride. Lack of attention. If we work on these things day in and day out, we can keep them under control. But I find, more often, time goes by and the weeds take over everything. Digging out faith becomes a project. Daunting and dirty. But, diving in. Taking the challenge and forcing myself to wrestle with God, with faith, helps me to loosen the weeds and create space for light, life and love.

Day 38: Alone

Andrew loves to sit on the floor of the living room and play with his pile of toys ... for about 30 minutes. Then, he looks up and gets concerned if no one is around. He begins to make little noises indicating that he doesn't want to be alone. If these aren't responded to, they escalate until they are. If for some reason I can't get to him and he's cried for a bit, he'll absolutely panic.  He gets this deep fear that maybe he's been abandoned and it takes a long time nursing to convince him that he hasn't indeed been forgotten.

I think all of humanity is much like this to some extent. We can do things on our own to occupy ourselves, fill out time. But we begin to notice our aloneness and we decide we'd rather have company. If left too long we get upset about it. And in extreme cases, we panic.

Humans were made in God's image. Born to be in relationship and we know this instinctively. Even before we have the ability to communicate or even our own coherent rational thoughts, we have a need to connect with and bond that is as primal as our need for food, water and air.

But, as much problem as we have with being alone, we seem to have being in relationship. We struggle to know how to connect with each other. We have difficulty fulfilling each other's need for love and affection. We hurt each other deeply and leave scars on the walls of each other's hearts. And yet, for all the imperfection in our relationships, we find that they are a vast improvement over loneliness. That we find meaning in together that we can't find in solitary.

Jesus focused much of his teaching around how to live in unity with each other. With stories about mercy and forgiveness. With acts of openness and compassion. With his silence and his scars. As we come upon holy week, we see his greatest teachings unfold. And if we let them penetrate us we can carry his teachings to a world that is starving of loneliness. We can forgive. We can love. We can be loved and we can reach out to be a source of healing to those who journey alongside us.

Day 37: Home

No matter how far away I've lived, I've never missed Christmas with my family. One year it involved a 30-hour trip through 5 countries on 3 continents and nearly not making it, but I've always been able to get home. We have the best time. My first night in town, I usually arrive late (sometime after 10) but it doesn't seem to stop us from sitting and laughing with each other for 3 hours at a minimum until our faces ache and our bodies hurt from tiredness.

At Christmas, we have a tradition of playing risk together. Which, if you've ever played the game you know what a commitment this can be. It seems  that with all this time playing and knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses and general approach to the game, it would get old. But it doesn't. It gets better. Its like my old jeans -- frayed at the bottom, a few holes here and there, a random stain on the left side but who cares. They are the greatest jeans ever and I will wear them as long as I can.

Home is familiar. It is comfortable. It is a place to retreat to and know that you are loved. A place to laugh. A place to cry. To be yourself. It is the unique geography of family. There are traditions and rules -- spoken and unspoken. There is history, stories and relationships. There is mess. Hurt, tempers, brokenness and forgiveness. And it is the thing we all need most in the world. Having a home to return to gives us the strength to go out. To explore. To work. To fight for change in the world. To be who we are called to be knowing that in taking those risks we have somewhere to retreat to if things get too scary.

In faith, we have a home too. The church is that spiritual family complete with rituals, relationships, healing and mess. We gather on Sundays and holidays to share stories and to laugh and cry with each other. To life each other up and hold each other on this journey. It gives us strength to take risks, to reach out and to be light.

My homes -- the one I grew up in, the one I'm building now and all the churches that have been a part of my journey on the way -- provide the foundation that enable me to do what I can to bring light to the world. They are surely the greatest blessing that God has granted me.

Day 36: Beloved

In 2006, when I flew from West Africa to Davis, California on my way to start a new job and new life, I wrote a letter to my future children. I dreamed of who they might be, when I might have them, with whom. Little did I know that only 2 days later would I run into the man who I would later marry and have these two beautiful boys with.

I had never much pictured myself "settled down." I was driven. Passionate about solving big problems in the world. Alleviating poverty and human suffering or something like that. It was my call and I felt ordained in the ministry of global service.

But that year in Davis, God gave me a great gift. A soul mate. And my course was changed.

I began a new journey, or maybe better said, a new leg of the same journey. A continually unfolding journey into the way of love. I knew love before. I knew compassion. I knew sacrifice. But this call, loving these boys was a call to know a deeper love. A relentless, lift cars and jump over high building kind of love that comes from years of inter-dwelling. I've come to understand God better: Why he calls us his children, his beloved. Why the song of solomon is scripture. Why even God, themselves, are portrayed to us as a perfect relation in the trinity. God is love and not just "isn't that nice" love but the move mountains and split universes to uphold us kind of love. My kids don't always know or understand my love for them,  but that doesn't change anything. They won't understand that some of their pains, I have to let them go through. But it doesn't lessen my love. They won't know how much it hurts me to see them suffer. That love is an ache in the heart unknowable to anyone but me. And so it is with God.
 

Day 35: dream

It is starkly silent. Midnight. The house is dark. Everyone has been asleep for hours. I am up with an odd combination of strange sensations in my body still recovering from a run in with a very unpleasant virus and distorted, half-awake ideas about how Ulrich and I can make a halfway decent go at this business. God is present. At this time of day there are few other noses to distract. The darkness obscures my sight. My mind to sleepy to be coherent. It wanders. God speaks. Will I recognize God's voice? Will I remember it in the morning if I do? Is any of this real? Am I dreaming?

I find God often in times like this. Sometimes I recognize it, sometimes not. Sometimes I imagine it, sometimes not. But a seed gets planned in my heart. I wait to see if it will grow in the morning or fade with the passing of the night.  I hear faint echos of the clear message that I am so certain I felt God impress upon me. Or sometimes, it feels strangely dry and empty, then I doubt and wonder if God is there at all.

I say yes. Like Nicodemus, my best conversations with God are cryptic and under cover of the deep night, only understood long afterwards once the story has played out.

Day 34: rise

Kind of ironic that today's word is rise. I spent the whole day in bed and am posting this from my phone while curled up in a mass of blankets. I'm not getting up anytime soon. Yet I keep hoping I'll just feel better and get up and attend to all the chaos that lies waiting for me beyond my bedroom door. But still, I lay here feeling sick.

Lent isn't over yet. There are still days of darkness ahead. It is not yet time for rising or for the hallelujahs that joyfully greet Easter morning. We must go with Jesus on his final journey through Jerusalem. His bittersweet goodbye to his best friends, his tormented prayers in the garden, the dark sky, the ripped curtain. We wait expectantly for promises of what lies ahead, even if our moments are dark and isolating. We too will rise again, into new selves reformed by the hand of God. And this present suffering and darkness will melt away. Even if we can't grasp it. Even if we can't describe it or understand it. Faith is trust. So we hold his hand and walk into the Passion.

Day 33: Rebirth

Gardening in the spring is one of my favorite sources of renewal. The warm sun. The breath of new life in the air. Watching day by day add new shoots appear on plants as they emerge from winter's sleep.

This year, I transplanted my poor hydrangea plant, hoping to find it a better home. The hydrangea was one of the first plants I planted when we bought our house. When Ulrich and I were first dating, I painted him a picture of some hydrangea blossoms. According to Chinese tradition, hydrangeas are a symbol of something a kin to soul mates. you get lost in each other as you do in the multitude of petals that hydrangea blossoms produce. I had wanted one in our garden as a reminder of love and making space to "get lost in each other" from time to time.

Unfortunately my precious hydrangea had a tough time in our Livermore yard. The intense sun, the dry summer and the rocky soil lead to scorched leaves and wilting limbs. I've transplanted it twice, hoping it would find a place where it could thrive. But at the end of last year, there was nothing left by dry, dead stalks. I was nearly ready to give up, but as I dug it up, I noticed one bud that looked like there might be some life. One last transplant, then I'll give up. I moved it to some of the most fertile, well watered, shady soil on our property. Year after year a bunch of Calla lilies flourish eachs spring. So, carefully, I planted the hydrangea in it's new home. And, after a few weeks, buds are starting to open and new life is sprouting from the dry stalks.

As we grow close to Easter, I grow eager for the appearance of new life. It seems that creating space for new life involves a degree of discomfort, loss and suffering. Those hard months of the 3rd trimester and pain of labor lead to the joy on receiving that precious, amazing new baby. To give birth to our company, we had to go out on a limb and give up a comfortable job and steady income at Sandia. To welcome the new pope, the old one first had to resign. To get to Easter, we must first encounter the cross of Good Friday.

Day 32: A big mess

Andrew is sitting on an obnoxiously huge pile of laundry. My house, more often than not, looks like a tornado has just hit, literally. Eddie likes to use chairs to get up on things so they are often in random places. Clothes stay where they come up -- and for kids that includes living rooms, hallways, where ever I can make it happen.

When it comes to the house, I have a stress meter that raises my blood pressure for each thing out of place. I might seem very laid back, but underneath it I am incredibly type A and even stress about things being out of place that are well out of site in drawers or closets. For me, there is a true peace that comes when my environment is organized.

Our surroundings do a lot to define our state of mind. If you don't believe me go to Michigan in late April, when it's snowing, and see how quickly people snap. Then go back again, two days later when the weather decides to suddenly change and it's 65 degrees out. People are hanging out in tank tops, a stranger will buy you a beer. You would think that the entire state had just won the lottery.

Finding God and the deep sense of peace that comes with faith starts with putting yourself into the right environment. Removing things that deaden your spiritual senses and replacing them with reminders of a life filled with love and light. Lent for me is always a time to refill my space and my calendar with God, and funny, God always seems to show up.

Day 31: I almost lost it

I almost, almost lost it today. My morning started with Andrew waking up in a bad mood and crying until Eddie woke up, late and ... poopy. Lame. I was late for workout class and couldn't find my iPod. So I brought my laptop, which didn't have music. So I tried Pandora, but my flash player needed updating... all while I'm apologizing for being late. I rush home to clean my house for an appointment that got canceled last minute. And I decide, I can use the extra time to get some work done (moms, always have to be prepared to enact plan B) So, I call the babysitter to see if I can drop off kids, and she really was hoping to have the day off. Sigh. Ok, plan C. I try to figure out what that is and while changing Andrew's diaper on the bathroom floor, Eddie leans on me and poops himself again. I'm ready to lose it. I realize there's no use in getting upset. I breathe deeply and try to be positive. I load up the kids and head out to pick up Papa Murphy's pizza just a few blocks away, with the plan of dropping in on the guys at work with Friday afternoon happy hour -- pizza and beer. Andrew was falling asleep, so I parked directly in front of the door and run in to quick order the pizza while leaving the kids in the car. The guy behind the counter is taking his time. I tap a little impatiently. Then a woman comes barging in "Are those your kids?" "Um, ya"

"It's against the law to leave your kids in the car like that. I should call the cops on you. What a terrible mother."

THAT'S when I almost lost it. I walked out. Got in my car and sat staring blankly into space --I let myself smile, at least I have a good story for this blog post.

We really aren't that much better than toddlers on the inside. Frustrations can add up over the course of a day like this and all we want to do it stomp around and throw stuff or scream or punch someone in the face. And then, when so close to the edge, someone -- a stranger -- decides to critique us in a vulnerable place. Like being called fat or ugly or incompetent. It was a shot at the jugular. But I didn't lose it. I bubbled up inside and then, it passed.

Ulrich reminded me this morning that tempered glass doesn't shatter. If treated well enough, it becomes bullet-proof. Every year, Lent is a tempering. A process that deepens me, thickens my skin and yet allows me to become more flexible to take on the journey that lies ahead. I think the faith is a tempering. It keeps us from shattering when life hits us with the hard stuff. Keeps us from breaking down on bad days and gives us strength to forgive and carry on.

Day 30: Sometimes you gotta go...

It was a nice day. Ulrich and I needed to blow off some steam so we left work a little early and took the boys to the park for a picnic dinner. No sooner did we get to the park, set up our blanket and start eating did I feel the sudden and immediate urge to go to the bathroom. I ignored it. Sometimes it will go away. Not this time. Eddie was so happy spending time with us. He wanted, of course, for me to run and climb with him on the playground and go down every slide. By the 5th slide, I was agonizing. "Buddy, mommy needs to go home." "Noooooooooooo! I want to go down the slides with mommy!" To Eddie's chagrin, Ulrich stayed at the park with the boys while I jumped in the car and drove home. It was that urgent.

Sometimes the need to go is urgent. We feel a growing need to go that doesn't stop and only gets louder and more consuming the longer we ignore it. It becomes an imperative and it won't be silenced. Sometimes the need is biological - the need to eat or go to the bathroom or have a baby. Sometimes it's emotional - the need to run off stress or to retreat to a safe place in the midst of self-doubt or vulnerability. And sometimes, the call is spiritual. It is the very breath of the spirit sweeping over you, filling you with a passion that is strange and foreign but none the less an unmistakable call to action as real and urgent as needing to go to the bathroom.

I've seen it in people and in myself, this spiritual call to "go" to follow a new path. People called to ministry. People called to serve. People called to fight injustice. Sometimes we go because we choose to. Sometimes we go because we must and can't choose otherwise.

Day 29: Andrew's getting wet

For the past 2,000 years, Christians have held the tradition of baptising new believers on the Saturday night before Easter. If you haven't been to an Easter vigil service, you should do it at least once.

The service starts dark. silent. by candlelight. Scriptures from the old testement are read. We emerge ourselves simply into the story of our faith. No distractions. No music. Just a silent, candlelit church and the telling of a very old story. Then, we rise. The new believers to the faith make their vows and are baptized. Baptized into the darkness of Good Friday. Baptized into the story of faith. And, baptized into the glory of Easter morning. At the moment of baptism, the service changes. The first light of dawn. The first telling of the resurrection. Like the women at the who came to annoint Jesus's body those dark early hours on after Saturday's sabbath, we are the first to find again the empty tomb.

My heart sings with joy. This year, my little Andrew, will greet his first Easter by going down into the water. He will be surrounded by the grace, the healing and the journey that the water brings. And we will be there holding him and lifting him up. Just as the faithful have done for us.

Day 28: Does life come with a mute button?

I don't get too much silence. In any given day there are countless grabs for my attention. A whining baby who wants to be held. A jealous big brother who also wants to be held. Phone calls. Emails. Text messages. Calendar reminders.

When I go into meetings I am able to silence my phone. I simply ignore the demands of the world to pay attention to the person I am meeting with. I wish I were allowed to do that with life. Just press the "silent" button and ignore everything that competes for my attention. It is not the season in life for me to do that. Those demands are real and they are my duty to respond to. However, God deserves focused attentive time and I try to carve out spaces in my week where I can silence my life. Put it on hold and try to listen to God.

But God is slow and quiet. God doesn't fit into the 15 minute structured block of God time. So in that still silence that I fight to create I don't hear God. I don't hear anything. My mind is jumbled. But just because I don't always hear God in that special moment I've created, doesn't mean that I shouldn't do it. The pause in life allows me to reflect. To try on new perspectives. To ask God questions. It creates in me a space and ability to hear God amist the chaos and noise that accompanies most of my day.

Day 27: Life lessons from a 3 year old

I think Eddie's favorite word is happy. He often asks, "Mama, are you happy? I'm soooo happy."

He's entering that awesome, innocent stage that peaks around four years old. He just recently discovered emotions and empathy. It's made parenting so much easier. I don't have to get angry anymore, I can simply say. "Mama will get angry if you do that." He instantly stops what he's doing and says, "Mama, be happy."

Today we had the most amazing weather. I stayed outside with the boys until the very latest hour. Andrew was dropping his bottle off the side of his highchair. Eddie was laughing so hard, he was nearly crying. They played that way until it was completely dark. I sat and watched. I was happy. I was grateful for the kids, the weather, the opportunities I have. Gratitude creates space for happiness.

I was thinking though, how often do I really find myself permeated with joy the way Eddie is. A few times a week? Maybe, at most, once a day? Eddie must spend at least 75% of his waking hours, filled with an intense joy to be alive. Being deeply happy comes naturally to kids. They aren't yet jaded by life. They don't have better things to do or to worry about. They just live in the moment and swallow up the life, the learning and the love around them with big cheezy grins. I think, as adults, we don't allow ourselves to be happy. We are too busy for that. We have to get stuff done and be important and worry about the future and stuff. So, we don't give ourselves permission to be happy.

I am an offender. Getting into the car. Eddie wants to run around and play tag. I hush him up and hurry him along, we have places to be. In the morning, he wants to play cars or cuddle with me on the couch. I'm thinking about the day. I'm worried about being on schedule. Going over my to-do list. I could take a few lessons from Eddie on soaking up the life, the learning and the love around me with a big cheezy grin.

Day 26: Five Guys

Today, like most Sundays I ate Five Guys (I can't take credit for the pic, BTW, google images can, but this is exactly what I ate). Ulrich and I have managed to carve out a sacred space on the Sabbath day to connect with each other and take a deep breath before the week comes rushing at us. Most of the time we eat a Five Guys. Two burgers, all the way, a bag of fries and a drink that we share. We sit at a table close to the fountain drinks and fill up on diet coke while we meander in conversation and review our calendar strategizing for the week.

I am not one of those people who have been blessed with an amazing metabolism. So I am constantly aware of what I'm taking in. So, I plan my day's intake around our afternoon date. After years of struggling with weight, I am ever conscious of what calories I'm taking in. Back when I first turned my eating habits around, I had to carefully log what I ate and manually tally up my total calorie consumption. I would be hungry at the end of the day. Do my math and say, "Sorry body. Have to wait till tomorrow." And with a frown, head to bed.

With time, healthy eating has ingrained itself into me. I have a running mental calculator that quickly estimates the calories I'm taking in and adds it to a sub-conscious daily total. I've also found myself more deeply enjoying healthy foods. I've found that fat, salt and sugar are often use as a mask for lazy cooking. They make things seem to taste good. But, the flavor quickly tires and eating becomes mechanical. Better, the complicated combinations of natural ingredients and spices that gives food real character.

Spiritually, there are parallels. Unhealthy foods for the soul are the things we digest mechanically. Like processed foods they feel and taste amazing at first bite, but a bit into it and we start to feel a little unwell, but we keep grazing. It's addictive. A diet of prayer, meditation, scripture, worship and nature feel a bit like an extreme detox. But, as the habits build, they become the complex flavors that bring deep satisfaction and peace to the soul.

Day 25: Faithful

Eddie threw up all over me today. Motherhood is messy. It is also not a short-term commitment. For the next 18 years, I will pour my heart and soul into raising these boys. And, even after they are grown, I will continue to love them, worry about them, pray for them and go to the end of the earth for them. That's what being a mom is all about.

Faithfulness is about sticking to your commitments even when it is inconvenient or messy. Getting thrown up on or answering the phone at 2am. There are days, I have to admit, when I'm ready to throw in the towel. I'm tired of crying babies or messy house. I'm tired of inconvenient phone calls from friends in need or working for free hoping to get our business off the ground. But I have to take a deep breath and remind myself to put one foot in front of the other.

It can be that way with faith too. Sometimes God feels far away. There was a 2 year period where I prayed everyday pleading for God's presence. Silence. I had to decide if I would stick it out or give up on faith.

I imagine that there are days when God would assume give up on me. When I'm that annoying phone call at 3am or that tantrum before bedtime. When I insist on living life my way, all the while ignoring the grace and path God has laid out. And somewhere, remembering what it's like to be human, he takes a deep breath and patiently shows me the way I should go.

There is a great joy that comes with faithfulness. It takes the fullness of time to realize. As I watch my boys grow. As I look back at the richness of my relationships. As I lean on my faith and realize how strong it can be, I smile deeply. I'm glad God hasn't given up on me.

Day 24: Find

I seem to be over-scheduled these days. There is more to do than a day, a week, or a month allows and I am constantly looking for minutes to squeeze in extra things. I've found ways to multi-task. To do double and triple duty and give each day my best effort.

I love Fridays. They are almost sacred. At 9am, every Friday morning, I lead an exercise class. I am always stressed about it the night before. "I don't have time.... I need to ..." But, Friday morning comes. I wake up. I drive to the class, still thinking about everything I need to do. I get to the church and turn on my music and begin stretching.

At the end of the hour, I'm happy, sweaty and rejuvenated. Not only is my body happy for being taken care of but I find that my soul is fed. I connect with the women in the group. I find the opportunity to hear about their lives and realize that there is more going on than what I experience in my little bubble of reality.

We find what we make space to find.

Day 23: Shark Tank

Yesterday, I sat nervously in my own personal shark tank. In a non-descript office in a business park across the street from google, Ulrich and I did our best to present our business to a group of investors. They fired questions. We took turns giving our best answers. As our meeting time came to a close, we asked -- so, how does an opportunity like this fit into your investment portfolio?

"Well, step into the hall and we'll discuss that."

My stomach turned. 15 minutes passed. Finally, they adjourned. The investors walked past us and out the door. "The woman will give you your answer." They said as they passed. My heart sank. Finally the woman emerged... Our answer is a definite "NOT No." She when on to give us specific feedback and next steps we need to take.

I think over the course of life, we learn to become afraid of the word "No." At 18 months or so, it's a child's favorite word. It's their first opportunity to exert their opinion into the world. To accept or reject something. At around 2 years, they start to learn that mom can reject things too. Mom can reject the possibility of eating candy for dinner or writing on the wall.

As we grow older we begin to fear the word. We are afraid to ask because we are afraid to be rejected. Especially for things that matter like our dreams or dating. We also are afraid of being asked because we don't want to reject. "Please don't ask me to volunteer. I don't know if I'll be able to say no." Don't ask me to tell you what I really think.

But saying no and rejecting things can change us and the world.  Jesus said no. Jesus said no to injustice, to status quo, and to following the rules. Jesus said no to a world defined by legalism and to the idea that any person was beyond the reach of God's grace. We too can choose to say no and reject the darkness, greed, injustice and hatred in the world. If we can find a way to cast aside our fears of rejection, we can help to fill the world with light.

Day 22: Shadows

As I walk through the shadow of the valley of death, I fear no evil for you are with me....

We walk through many shadowy valleys in life. Grief. Addiction. Getting fired. Illness. Nervous breakdowns. Times where it feels that the sun is gone. When its hard to see and there is a harsh chill that doesn't seem to go away.

But, the thing about shadows is there is always light behind them. When we are in the shadow, we are in the dark. But out there, beyond the shadow, the light is waiting. Getting fired leads to a new job. Nervous breakdowns to new perspective. Grief and illness open opportunity for new relationships.

Beyond winter, the newness of spring.
Beyond Good Friday, Easter is waiting.

Day 21: Sleepless

When I was a little girl, there were more than a few nights when I would wake up to my dad softly whispering. "Sara. Wake up. I got an idea." My dad is a dreamer and often came up with new ideas in the middle of the night. My mom sleeps hard, so sometimes when he just couldn't get back to sleep without talking it out, he would come and find me. It is a special thing we shared that I think I'll always carry with me.

The middle of the night is raw. In spanish, it is called the madrugada. That deepest part of the night that leads to dawn. It is the time we come face to face with the things most intimate and life-changing. When lovers share deep secrets, when mothers nurse and bond with new babies, when we grieve our deepest losses, come up with great ideas, question who we are and what we are here for, decide to move across the country, wrestle with God and faith. It is when I labored with each of my boys. In the darkness of night. In the silence of those early morning hours when nothing else comes to distract and we are left curiously alone with our heightened emotions and sensations. Which seem greater often than we can bear. Bigger than our minds or hearts or bodies can handle. Often, we are alone in those moments. Seeking company means we have to face the awkwardness of seriously inconveniencing someone and drag them out of the bliss of sleep to join us in the intensity of night's emotion. Sometimes we have no choice. Often, we just ride it out alone waiting for our heart to settle enough to let us sleep.

Jesus spent a sleepless night, praying in a garden. With all the stress and anxiety that night brings. He was alone. Waking his friends. Pleading them to join him in the intensity of his emotional and spiritual battle. But, they didn't. He faced the torment alone. God came as man and experienced the rawness of a sleepless night. And in our sleepless nights we can always bring our hearts to him.

Day 20: Bless

 Lent 2010 was a tough one. We were living with my in-laws. Eddie was 4 months old. I missed my community in Davis. So what did I give up for Lent? House hunting. We were planning on buying a house in Livermore but it was really competitive because there was a credit for first time home buyers which would expire in April. I spent that Lent walking with Eddie in his stroller. Going nowhere in particular. I didn't have plans. I didn't have friends. I didn't have anything going on. It was a strange season for me.

Monday after Easter I had a date scheduled with my realtor. Show me everything in my price range. I said a prayer and looked at maybe 15 places. We made offers on a few. We got accepted for one. We bought it. The whole rest of the year I dedicated my life to repairing the house and making it livable. We had to re-do the plumbing, the electrical, the subfloor -- pretty much we had to re-build it from the ground up. I learned so much. I worked side-by-side with the contractor. Tearing apart walls, choosing materials.

With each beam, each sheet of drywall, each screw, I said a prayer. That God bless our time in this house. That God fill it with love. That it be a safe haven and source of renewal for all who come live with us.

In back of the main house is a small studio apartment. We had plans to rent it out to keep our expenses low. Nearly three years have passed since I first laid eyes on our house and I am astounded at the blessing that it has been. Not only to us, but to those who have sought haven here. Each year has brought us a different person to live in our back house and each year I've seen that person grow and take new steps in their life. I feel like that little house was exactly what each of them needed. And, God has used each of them to teach me.

In our big house, there has been warmth, love, laughter and refuge. It has fully become a home and I try best I can to keep the door open and welcome others in. I am very grateful for this house. It was the exact perfect place for us.

Day 19: Red Solo Cup

Like all babies, Andrew screams when he wants a bottle. Some days, when it's really hot outside, and I've been running or biking, I become keenly aware of thirst. I search out water on a quest. Like Andrew needing his bottle, it becomes a single focus. More often however, for me, thirst feels like something not quite right. I can't quite name what's off. Eventually, I fill one of our big red plastic cups with luke-warm water from the tap and take a sip. The water isn't that great, but I down it and refill, and down a second glass.

I think spiritual thirst looks like this. Sometimes, we become aware that we have been lacking faith or a spiritual connection and we seek it out like ice water on a hot day. But, more often, I find that something is not quite right in my life and I stumble into something, church, prayer, conversation about faith and I recognize my parched soul lapping up every last drop.

Jesus said, "I am living water. He who drinks of me shall never thirst again." I wonder what exactly he means by that. Maybe that only God satisfies spiritual thirst? That we can't quench our desire for meaning and purpose with philosophy or spiritual musings.. Or maybe he means that at some point in the future, by remaining in relationship with God, we will find permanent fulfillment and peace and no longer have these deep longings? I'm not sure. For now, I keep coming back and filling my cup. And I am sustained.

Day 18: Leave

Andrew was 5 days overdue. The month before he was born, I had many false alarms. I focused on calming my body down so that he wouldn't come too early. I knew that coming too early would impact his health. But, as the due date came and went, my focus shifted. I started to do activities to encourage the labor to come. I knew that coming too late could cause him to grow too large and make it difficult or impossible to birth him naturally.

It seems that there are moments, timed perfectly, when life transitions from one thing to another. Ulrich and I loved our time in Davis. It was for both of us an oasis -- a time of healing, growth and renewal. After we got married, we knew our time there was limited. The timing turned out perfect. We were able to stay there until Eddie was a few months old. It gave me those first few months surrounded by a really tight knit community to help me transition into motherhood and grow confident that I would be fine on my own. Leaving Davis was really hard. I loved it there. It was home for me. But now, going back, I find that it is not the place where I am supposed to be and I am not meant to go back any more than Andrew is meant to return to the womb.

But as I was getting him ready for bed this evening, I was pondering his cute little belly button. A permanent sign of a time when I breathed for him, when I nourished him directly. Leaving isn't only about moving on to new places and circumstances but being permanently changed and marked by the journey thus far. This Easter, Andrew will be baptized. Marked forever by this part of his journey.

God is before, behind and with us on this journey. We are marked as children of God. No matter where we go. How far away. Somewhere deep inside of us is a small mark, left by the divine to let us know we will always be his children and that we are always invited home.

Day 17: Prophet life

I often get bogged down reading the books of the prophets. With the exception of all the visions of social justice and beautiful descriptions of Jesus in Isaiah, my experience with the prophets are books of doom and gloom and are generally not that uplifting. The prophets had a tough job. They had to speak up and speak out against the pop culture of the time. They had to tell leaders that they were wrong and immoral. Can you imagine someone publicly laying into Steve Jobs about a particular flaw in his character? They had a special boldness and conviction that gave them the fortitude and courage to carry tough messages at tough moments in history.

I had my own tough moment this morning. It was 6:30. I was barely awake. I heard Ulrich and Andrew in the living room and Eddie calling out "Mama" in the distance. I knew it was time to roll my tired self out of bed and start another busy day. Luckily, it was Friday. Workout day. My phone rang. My homeless friend on the line. It was a wall of anxious words. I took a deep breath. She gets herself worked up like this from time to time and I usually have to spend a good hour to talk her down. Eddie was clinging to me wanting his morning time. It took me a while to even get her coherent enough to understand what the issue was.

Piecing it together, I realized its the first of the month. Her welfare check came. She's stressed about not having an apartment yet. She's tempted to drink. She wants me to come get the money so she doesn't mess up. I throw on some jeans and get in the car. I meet her in front of the liquor store where she's hanging out with some homeless dude. She hands me the money, except for one twenty dollar bill. As if I wouldn't notice. "Give me that last twenty." I said. We went back and forth. She refused. Finally, I knew I wouldn't win. "Ok. If you go in that store, don't call me this weekend, I don't want to deal with this." I said. She turned her back and walked in.

Deflated I started the drive home. Then, I got indignant. She had dragged me out of bed and away from my kids because she needed help. An binge of drinking would set her back at least a week and she needs to keep it together if she's going to get into an apartment before the end of the month. I turned around the car and stormed into the liquor store. I grabbed the bag of booze off the counter. "This is not ok." I said. She went off. It was a 30 minute tirade and she was nearly ready to fight. I held my ground. It didn't end well but I had stated my word and I had stood my ground. I spoke truth.

It is so hard to confront. Gently, lovingly, firmly, spiritually stand with truth and testify. It is part of our call. To speak up. Even if our words fall on deaf ears.