It's not easy being green...

If you attend a liturgical church, you may have noticed the alter has a green cloth on it. In the church calendar, we have entered a season called common time. It will last until advent when the church has its new year and decorates the alter blue in preparation for Christmas.

Common time. Ordinary time. The last major holiday in the church year is Pentecost, the receiving of the Holy Spirit, then we are sent out into ordinary time until the church new year, Advent. During summer, most churches get a little quieter. Choirs and Sunday Schools have breaks, people take vacations, attendance is down. There seems to be this ebb and flow that is built into the calendar where God calls us in -- to grow, to learn, to struggle with faith and then sends us out - to serve, to live, to be present in the world.

In my own life, I see a reflection of the church year. I hiked up the mountain during advent, Christmas, epiphany and lent. Pregnant. Struggling with how my life might change. Deep in prayer that God provide strength and wisdom. During Holy Week and into Easter, I found myself on the mountaintop. Transformed and open to the grace of God's call on my life. I gave birth and enjoyed the sacred newborn moments with baby Philip. All I wanted to do was stay there. Stay in the wonder of Easter morning. But down I headed, down into ordinary life.

I am busy with the call laid on me. Loving and caring for my beautiful boys. Being attentive and supportive to my husband. Shining light and leading our company. I don't have much time to be Mary. To sit at Jesus's feet. But, I pray on the way to and from work. I sing hymns in the shower. The meditations of my heart say -- this is the season of green, it is time to be out in the fields. Trusting that the Spirit is with me, it is the season to live out my faith through the work of my hands. During this season of common time, my devotion is to find opportunities to infuse each day with light and love. And that, my friend, is why it is not that easy being green.

Can we just stay?

Moments that touch eternity...

Just before dawn I awoke to the feeling of a small balloon popping. Could it be the day?  I went to the bathroom.  Sure enough my water had broken. Still a bit dazed, I heard Andrew wake up. I went to get him.  We cuddled.  I woke Ulrich. I woke my mom.  Today's the day. Eddie somehow knew something was up and woke up two hours early.  The boys decided to take a shower.  I sat on the stool in the bathroom and told them it was baby peanut butters birthday and that I had to go to the hospital so he could be born.  They were excited.  I said my farewells and we were off.

The sun rising.  Contractions picking up momentum.  Drive through McDonald's for Ulrich. Hospital.  epidural.  10cm. Wait for mom to get there. Mom arrives.  Time to meet my little man.  Everyone tells me they see him.  Doctor asks if I want to catch him. I reach down finding his shoulders, slid my hands under his arms and pull him out and into the world.  I lift him up and draw him to my chest.  He cries. His pink body warm and messy presses into my heart and leaves an imprint that will last the rest of my life.

Moments that touch eternity.

I am standing on a high mountain.  Life stretches out in front of me. I will blink my eyes and this helpless little baby will be walking, running,  going to kindergarten.  Looking back,  I see the births of my other two boys,  my wedding and in the far past,  the moment my mother first held me.

I just want to stay.  I want to stay in this perfect moment with my newborn. With my wonderful 2 and 4 year olds. I don't want life to keep going.  I don't want to climb down the mountain.

When Jesus showed Peter the full glory of God on top of a mountain during the transfiguration, all Peter wanted to do was stay and soak up the moment. But Jesus urged him onward.  Peters call lay in the road ahead.  Surely,  memories from that mountain top experience sustained him when the path got hard.

Life is lived on the trails going up and down the mountain.  My life lived in the 9 months leading up to baby Philips birth and the year forward that he grows into a little boy.

Jesus who walked with Peter on the path up and down the mountain was the same Jesus who appeared in glory on the top.  God is with us as strongly in the path as he is on the summit,  even if his presence hard to feel and glory harder to recognize. 

I will tuck these amazing first days of life deep into my heart. And I know the path ahead is full of beauty and adventure.

Overwhelmed by gratitude

I feel compelled to continue writing into the Easter this year. This blog has been a source of quiet and reflection in an otherwise hectic life and I have been deeply touched by the practice.

I can't help but be overwhelmed by gratitude. My boys came home Wednesday night. I took Thursday off and did nothing else besides be present to them. Friday. they went to school in the morning and we hung out in the afternoon. I was amazed by how much they've grown in the week they were gone. Andrew was speaking in sentences. Eddie had new maturity. Hanging out at home doing the mundane with them was yet another vacation. A vacation to the sacred space of motherhood that I can't begin to express how grateful I am for.

The even more beautiful part was the ability to share the moments and journey with my mom. I don't have any sisters and we moved around quite a bit when I was little, so my mom is my mom, my sister and my childhood best friend. She is the one woman I've had in my life for the long haul. And sharing motherhood with her -- telling stories, laughing at the kids, solving issues, trying to figure out how to best nurture my boys and preparing the house for new baby peanut butter -- is a joy that I don't know if my soul can express in words.

God intends for our calling to be a source of joy. We may get weary in our work. Overwhelmed by uncertainty. Distracted or discouraged. We are human. That is part of the journey. But pursuing the heart of God's call for us and allowing our perspective to be shaped by the Holy Spirit we can find ourselves overwhelmed by joy and gratitude even on the ordinary days.

Easter: I'm Ready...

He has risen indeed, Alleluia!

The greeting of Christians for centuries is nearly always the first words of my heart Easter morning.

This year, we got up in the dark and hurried off back down long country roads to the hills where we greeted the rising sun with the birds, the trees and the green grass. The world always feel so alive on Easter morning. The weather, for as many Easters as I can remember, no matter where I lived has been mild and sunny. Creation is joyful.

My heart sings. The promise of new life, perpetual. I am filled with hope.

As Easter day carried forward, my pensive heart shifted to a ready heart. Ready to greet my children home from their trip to Michigan. Ready to greet my new baby at his birth. Ready to lead my company. Ready to inspire the world to love.

Through the prompting of the Holy Spirit, a plan has been hatching in my mind about how to reorganize my life around the call to mother and nurture. I see opportunities to give both Ulrich and myself more rest and renewal to keep from getting burned out. I see opportunities to work and to mother and allow these roles to co-exist.

Of course, I don't expect life to follow my plan. But in the glory of this Easter morning, my savior offers me the promise of a lighter yolk. Allowing my heart to continually be molded by his gentle Spirit offers the promise of gentle waters and green pastures.

The tomb is empty. God prevails. In faith, we find new life.

Easter Vigil: Defined by love

In the deep dark, we drove the winding country road to the foothills outside of Livermore. Our Easter Vigil this year to be held under the blanket of the night sky.

We came to a turn off and pulled over. Pulling out lawn chairs and a candle, we set up next to the car. We read the readings. We read the Easter proclamation and we stared in wonder at the constellations above us.

Holy Mystery.

Thoughout the day Saturday, we read aloud from the book that I had started on Motherhood. I had wanted to finish it by Easter. As I read, it dawned on me. I have been approaching life the wrong way. I have been trying how to figure out a way to create space for a new baby in my life.

Instead, God is calling me to transform my life around an emerging role that he has for me that is bigger and holier than I initially recognized. One the main message echoing in the book I was reading was permeating your home with Love and letting it be the guiding force behind your daily schedule.

I began to ponder the servant leadership of Christ. What would my life look like if my to-do list was defined by love. If first, I considered the love and care for my children, husband, employees, customers and investors. If instead of orchestrating objectives to be met, I defined myself by the love I offered each day.

I pondered this revelation throughout the day Saturday. I don't know how I might implement it practically in my life, but I was convicted this coming season in my life should be defined by Love.

Good Friday: Surrender

Good Friday.  I started the day a little sour.  The gray sky,  the pain in my body, the somber feeling that lingers in the soul. The day of the cross.

Ulrich and I had made plans to explore the coast in the peninsula so we drove down to Monterrey.  It was still pretty early and the town had not yet fully woken up. We ate breakfast and walked Cannery Row.  I stopped at a overlook of the ocean. Kids were down below playing on the sand and climbing in the rocks.  Behind me, a native American musician set up shop playing drums and a wooden flute.  I stayed there nearly an hour.  Still.

Finally,  we headed back to the car and drove Highway 1 North to Santa Cruz.  We parked downtown.  I was struck by how much you can tell about a town based on the downtown. Monterey was old and sleepy. Santa Cruz was young and liberal. We walked the stretch of downtown, ate a bowl of noodles and headed North again. Another hour on Highway 1 to Half Moon Bay. The views along the highway were stunning,  expansive. 

In the car I read chapters from the book Desperate.  Mediations on motherhood.  More or less quick thoughts on how to survive the struggle of life with young children. I was uplifted.  We stopped at a beach and went for a long walk on a cliff trail.  Maybe 100 feet below was a spanse of perfect sand.  Tiny people walked along the ocean holding hands.  Tiny dogs ran freely,  frolicing as the waves washed in.

We found this cool ledge surrounded by trees,  protected from the wind.  It was a place to rest.  My heart was completely still. 

"It is finished"

I let go of the struggle,  the worry,  the future.  I let go of the pain,  the birth,  the stress.  Rather then dwelling in the agony of the cross,  I found myself at peace with the commitment to obedience.

After the sweat and blood and tears of Gathesemane, Jesus faced the cross with an eery calm.  The world got so worked up around him.  But Jesus was resolved.  The peace of the Spirit dwelled with him in his complete obedience.

On the edge of that cliff,  I found myself embracing the calm. I brought everything to the cross and I left it there. 

It is finished.

Day 38: Staying the course

Our vacation...

So it came to pass that the baby hasn't come. The kids are gone. We said farewells to our staff and we found ourselves free.

Problem.

What kind of vacation can you have when you are 38 and a half weeks pregnant. No hiking, working out, biking, adventures to the wilderness. No wine tasting. No long walks on the beach. Everything hurts and keeps hurting. If I push it, we will be having a baby instead of a vacation so we drove, we ate and we talked.

Talking all day peels back layers and layers of onion. We found ourselves really wrestling with the weight of responsibility. For our kids and for our business. Facing an unknown darkness of doing something the world has never done before, every step feels like inching towards the edge of a cliff in total darkness. You stretch your toes feeling, straining, hoping you find the edge so that you don't just walk off it.

I thought about Jesus. Walking up the hill. Human. Mocked. Abandonned by God. Failed. I thought of moments in my own life when I thought, surely God is calling me to this and then, suddenly at sea I found myself alone with no God in sight. My God, how could you abandon me out here? Jesus shouted it from the cross. I shouted it from a hilltop in Haiti.

But Jesus stayed the course. Jesus clung to a promise of resurrection.

I don't know if our start-up will succeed. I don't know what the right choice is. But I do feel compelled to stay the course. My Easter is out there too. The invisible wind of the Spirit continues to blow. I must trust the mystery, pick up my cross and carry on.

Day 37: Pain

I thought last night might be the night.

After walking around for much of the afternoon, I came home to crash on the couch. Contractions were strong. Intense pressure. I laid there on the couch and breathed through them letting them wash on and over me.

My mother is leaving tomorrow with the kids. It would be incredibly inconvenient to have a baby in the midst of the chaos of them trying to leave.

Pain, life, faith are hard and inconvenient. Left to myself I would rather make my plan and follow it - scheduling baby's arrival for the most convenient moment. It would be nice if God would phone in to the weekly staff meeting and fill us all in on details. Allowing us to schedule births, sickness, and death. It would also be quite a bit much nicer if he could take the struggle out of it as well. Conveniently muting all the hard parts of life and turning up the volume on joy.

We try to do it ourselves. Quickly hush up pain -- take some tylonol, distract ourselves with TV or alcohol. We try to prevent it for our kids. We yell at God in protest against the pain of the world. God, why do you allow it? and for goodness sake, why why why does pain accompany birth and rebirth?

Jesus gathered with his friends for a holiday celebrating freedom, knowing he would be tied in ropes by the end of the night. God is no stranger to pain. It is a holy mystery that I struggle with at the end of every Lent. Why the cross? Why the pain? Why didn't God choose another path for humanity? I think my faith will always wrestle with the gruesomeness of the cross and the beauty and promise of Easter morning. I think it has something to do with ultimate vulnerability creating space within us for love. Jesus became the essence of vulnerability, poured out, broken and abandoned as a testament to the power of God's love.

Day 36: Is it really still snowing?

My kids are leaving tomorrow to go for a week long visit to Grandma's house in Michigan. My facebook feed was filled with lament from over a mid-April midwestern snow. I remember growing up, late snows feeling like the end of the world. Why can't winter be finished? Why can't we just enjoy the warmth and beauty of spring and the hope of summer?

I've never spent Easter without the kids. It feels a little strange to not be with them, but as my mother reminded me, this is not a typical Easter. Our plans are tentative. Maybe we'll have a baby in the quietness of the empty house, or maybe, just maybe, Ulrich and I will sneak away for the weekend and enjoy a few still days without work or kids to be renewed. As I ponder these plans, even though it is just a few short days away both options feel impossibly far from where I am.

Right now, my house is a disaster as we are still trying to clean and re-arrange closets to make room for baby stuff. Contractions wake me up at night and I sit up in the darkness listening to my body and trying to decide if it's time or am I still just doing warm up exercises. Work is in a strange lull waiting on new parts to arrive from the manufacturers and we are all pounding silently away on our computers on important, but not urgent projects. Hoping to be caught up and ready when the next big push arrives.

It is still decidedly Lent, but the smell of Easter is faint in front of us.

In my small world, I feel myself and my life being transformed into something yet unknown to me. The process of transformation still painfully ahead. The ongoing cleaning of my house, the piles of work that continue to line my desk, and the labor and birth of this new little life. For others the dread of winter damping the hope of spring. But somewhere, at the top of the hill new life awaits us all. The beautiful transformation that echos throughout the chapter of John. In this Holy Week may we bow our heads and open our hearts.

Day 35: Staying the course

Palm Sunday.

Jesus makes his way to Jerusalem, knowing it is his last journey. The crowds shouted like he was a rockstar, only to turn on him in a few weeks.

I am always struck by this sudden swing of public opinion. I imagine if there were 24 hour news channels broadcasting Jesus's last days, what the news stories would look like that would sway the masses from a hopeful "Let's make Jesus King" to "Kill him."

Knowing the fullness of God's plan, Jesus rode on. He rode on through the "Hosannas." He rode on through the "Crucify hims." He rode on when his best friends deserted and betrayed him. He rode on -- trusting in the unseen, incomprehensible plan of God.

I think the challenge that we face in "riding on" is that God's plans are hidden from us. We use other people way to discern if we are on the right path. Sometimes, we know -- Martin Luther King, Nelson Mandela, Mother Theresa -- that our unpopular path and fight to bring light to the world is a holy call. But more often than not, we are left with uncertainty and self-doubt that makes it hard to know whether or not we really should be staying the course.

Jesus prayed. Hard. In those vulnerable moments, the Spirit came, ministered and fortified him for the journey ahead. For us too, there is a promise that the Spirit will guide us -- provide wisdom and grant us strength to stay the course.

Day 34: Preparation

Nesting is a natural part of pregnancy. The deep, biological desire to prepare a space to welcome a new baby. This time around, my nesting instinct has taken a back seat with all the other life priorities. But finally, this weekend, with my parents around to help, my contractions growing stronger and coming on 38 weeks of pregnancy, it was time to make space in our house for baby Peanut Butter.

It was a bit of opening Pandora's box. One project lead to another and the cascade meant I spent most of the day cleaning out closet after closet, room after room. Everything had to shift. I really had to clean house both to make space for the new one coming and also to smooth the transition for the older boys.

It seems I am always cleaning house at the end of Lent. I fondly remember my first Lent in California. I was single in a small apartment. Ulrich and I were dating. He and I decided to share our Lenten journey that year -- which we had decided to deeply root in Passover -- giving up leaven for the entire lent and eating bitter herbs at every meal.

On the eve of Easter, I remember getting ready to go to bed and looking around my apartment thinking --- I can't greet Jesus this Easter with a messy house. I stopped what I was doing and went on a frantic cleaning binge that lasted till 3 in the morning. Scrubbing every corner of my house. Then, taking a long shower and scrubbing myself until I also shined with the newness of Easter. I covered my tables and furniture with white.

That next beautiful morning. At daybreak, as the sun rose. Ulrich offered me a ring and Jesus invited the two of us on a journey rooted in the promise of Easter morning.

Tomorrow morning marks Palm Sunday. The Holy Week begins. The slow, painful journey to the cross. It is time to clean house. Time to prepare. To open our eyes and hearts to hear the story again. To ponder our own crosses. To let go of our life and fall hard on grace. Easter comes to break the dark places in each of us.

Day 33: Big Decisions

One stressful part of running a start-up is the number of decisions one has to make in a given day. There is no roadmap. No one telling you which path to choose and you become keenly aware of how limited your sight is.

The problem with all these decisions is -- they matter. At least 2-3 times a week, I have to make a decision that costs 10s of thousands of dollars. I think heavily on my responsibility to the people who work for us and the investors who have placed trust in our ability to pull this off. The parable of the 10 talents assumes that you go out and get a return on the master's money.

There is so much temptation to dig a hole and bury the money in the ground. To back away from the challenge. To say, it's just too much. But, God calls us to be bold in our calls. To have faith that the Spirit is with us helping to guide our minds and our visions.

Many days I feel completely unqualified or uninformed to call the shots. I find strength on my knees.

Day 32: A call to motherhood

I am not ready...

Somehow, thinking that this is my 3rd child I didn't think I would really need time to prepare. I've been through labor and newborn sleepless nights. I have onsies, strollers and baby carriers. Since this is a boy I thought, there is nothing new that I need.

Today marks 37 weeks. The day in my pregnancy that Eddie was born. The baby is officially full term and could come any day over the next 5 weeks. Last night as I laid in bed I started thinking through the logistics. We drive a Prius. Over the course of the pregnancy, we've talked about getting a minivan but haven't done it. Now I'm wondering if I'm really going to try to squeeze baby peanut butter in the backseat of the Prius with the other two boys. I looked at the baby carseat.... need a new one. I was walking to the corner store...need a double stroller. I started thinking about labor -- with each of my previous labors I had a clear birth plan that helped me to deal with the pain. I haven't really thought about it and got a bit overwhelmed thinking about all the decisions that I need to make about that.

Truth is. It almost feels like a 1st baby. I really don't know how my life will change and what type of family we will be, what type of mother I'll be. I'm decidedly not ready.

At work, I have the same experience. Everything I've been doing over the last couple months were focused on last weekend's conference. Now what? In many ways, the business is in process of being born. Our product moves ever closer to being ready to sell. We are growing. Hiring. Expanding. I watch this 4th child of mine through its birth process and feel completely unprepared to mother it.

Ulrich reminds me -- its the season of Lent. Not just any Lent but a John Lent. A Lent of transformation. God is walking with me and transforming me into the mother I need to be for my three kids and for this little start-up. Teaching me the lessons of humility, brokenness and grace that I may dance with the Spirit as I take up an ever growing call to mother.

Day 31: My yoke is light...

My mother is a saint.

She came to help with the kids so I could focus on work last week and is staying to support us until after the baby comes. In and of itself, this is a remarkable blessing. But her gift to me extends further. My mother knows me in and out. She knows my boys in and out as well and so, in her coming she has seamlessly created the sense of order and routine that I have been longing to get into place.

I've been a bit overwhelmed by just how much she is propping me up. By how blessed I am by her presence. And when I ask her, is it ok? It feels like too much. She smiles and replies that she's missed us and is glad to be here.

Allowing the people we love to lift us up when we need it is hard. Our human, American selves want to fight back and assert independence. We don't want to put anyone out. We don't want to use anyone up. We want to stand up at the end of the day and say -- I did it, on my own. But in finding the humility to accept the blessings of others, we recognize the work of the Spirit in our lives. We recognize our brokenness and need. We also create space for relationship, love and authentic gratitude.

I feel light and supported by first finding the brokenness to accept that I can't do this on my own. I think this is what Jesus meant when saying -- "Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light." -- Not that God calls us to easy roads. But rather, by finding the brokenness to accept that we cannot by our own measure be all that God calls us to be, we open ourselves to the Spirit and to the Body to support us in our journey.

Day 30: The fruits of the Spirit

Coming up for air.

The end of last week was a whirlwind. Much as expected I worked very long days, put out many fires and did what I could to keep my body calm so that I wouldn't go into labor.I'm on the other side of that and finally, finally have the space in my mind to reflect and rejuvenate.

Reflecting on the last few days with spiritual eyes I ask myself the question -- Where are the places that needed light? Was I able to be light in those places?

It is times like that, when you are stressed, in "go" mode, and dealing with many stressful relationships that you find out how deeply you have let the Spirit penetrate your soul and how many gifts of the Spirit -- goodness, kindness, patience, self-control -- go out from you. It doesn't take much reflection to for me to realize that I still have much work to do in allowing the important work of the Spirit to supersede my sight-limited vision for what I am to accomplish in a day. I pray that despite myself, the Spirit found opportunities to minister through me and that the Wind continue to blow in and through me that I may find myself more open to the path he sets before me.

Day 23: Drowning

Imagine a 3 day wedding with 2,000 guests and 150 brides. For whatever reason, that is on my plate for the end of the week. Emails keep pouring in with things getting canceled, switched, and people freaking out. As much optimism as I've tried to maintain about this whole thing, I can't help but start to worry that it might be a train wreck -- and I'll be on the first car in.

I look around my house - its a complete mess. I feel like I'm a complete mess.

Covered California, in its absolute glory, lost my birthday and so I've received news that for the moment the expensive insurance plan that I am paying for isn't covering me -- with an impending birth on my mind -- I've sat on hold with various customer service lines for about 5 hours at this point. No closer to resolution.

As luck or maybe Lent would have it, the kids are on spring break so I've been with them constantly trying to tread water but slowly sinking.

Still -- I do not lose hope. I know this present moment will fade. No matter the outcome of any of my current challenges, the Spirit ever guides me. I know that I am where I am supposed to be -- in the middle of my big messy life that God has called me to. I sit down and take a minute to close my eyes and breathe. Letting go our daily concerns. The small things that seem like BIG deals is for whatever reason sooo difficult to do. Praying that God show me the way of patience, peace and grace in the face of stress this week.

Day 22: When blessings fall into your lap

John 9 - A man born blind.

He was just sitting there, minding his business. The disciples noticed him and asked Jesus about him -- who in turn decided to heal him. Social ruckus ensued.

Today's sermon was about recognizing the God will transform our lives but not on our terms. Usually, I take this to mean that we have to let go of our plan and recognize hardships as blessings that reform our souls and carve out space for God. But in today's case -- it was a blessing that fell into a man's lap.

He didn't ask to be healed. He didn't beg. He was minding his own business and a blessing fell into his lap that completely changed his life.

I look at all the major blessings that have fallen into my lap -- the ability to go to graduate school, meeting my husband, leading ministry, getting pregnant, Ulrich's crazy invention that led to our start-up. The list goes on. Most of these blessings were not something that I particularly strove for, begged for, worked for. They, for the most part, fell into my lap and threw my life into complete havoc.

Last August, I stood nearly in tears looking at the positive pregnancy test. I wasn't ready to have another baby. And yet, God blessed me -- he grows a new life inside of me -- and as surely as all the blessings that have come before -- I know this new baby will take my life in a direction that is unexpected and beautiful.

Transformation happens as we allow God to work in us by trusting his grace in our hardships and stepping up to the new opportunity and direction that comes with unexpected blessings. I think this is what Jesus is trying to explain to Nicodemus about being born from above.

"The wind blows wherever it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit."

Closing my eyes to feel the wind...

Day 21: A date with my 4 year old

Andrew has a hard time separating from me and as a result, it is nearly impossible for me to put him to bed. It seems to be easier on him to have daddy do bedtime. So, when we can, Daddy does nap too. (This helps nap to continue to happen).

Needing to leave the house, I packed up Eddie and took him on a date. The two of us went to Denica's cafe. We bought a flower shaped sugar cookie decorated with red sprinkles for the petals and a white center. We found a cozy booth and sitting across from each other, I unpacked his new game -- Cooties. I remember Cooties being one of my favorite games when I was around his age and we happened to find a brand new box of it at the thrift store for $3.

We spent an hour there, eating our cookie slowly and playing the game. Each of us had an invisible gas man filling up our tanks. We needed some good time together and this was just the thing. I keep a journal of all my fond memories of the kids and of course wrote up a detailed description of our special outing to keep in my heart and to share with him when he's older.

We often think of dates as quality time that we spend with our romantic partner and don't make as much space for dates with other key relationships. But as I reflect on dates, they almost always fill my tank and the person with whom I share the moment -- dates with my mom, with my kids. They are a moment to pause. To stop everything and say -- You are important to me. Worth my complete attention. Worth the resource to splurge and do something extraordinary.

I don't go on enough dates. How much love and light could I bring into the world by stopping and taking time -- just an hour even -- and telling people that God has placed in my life that they are loved and important. I perhaps could do myself and the world a whole lot of good by slowing down and buying a few more red sprinkled cookies.

Day 20: Half-time report

Halfway through Lent and as I could have predicted, what my life looks like on Easter morning is obscured in a haze forcing me to trust God's plan and timing.

For the past 5 months I've been helping to put together this major conference -- which will take place next week in LA. The conference could be an amazing success or abysmal failure of colossal proportions. I have been praying very hard and have a sense of peace about it. But it is hard to not be full of anticipation, wondering how a course of events will unfold.

Our little start-up has continued to make strides in growing up and all sorts of big events lie in the near future. I am hopeful about the path that is unfolding, but like everything else, it is obscured in a fog of uncertainty and I take each step in faith.

Contractions come and go. They are stronger than they have been in previous pregnancies and some of them are really starting to knock the breath out of me, but I haven't seen any real signs of labor. So this baby may, like Andrew, hold out until after my due date -- would would mean sometime in May.

Lent has, already, in many ways re-centered me in faith. Wrestling with God through sleepless nights and dreary days. Re-learning the rhythms of grace. Praying through the stress of my in-box (which has been a fabulous practice). Has grounded me. I still question at times my discernment and struggle with with how to balance the call of motherhood and business. How to make those things each truly a ministry. How to infuse grace and God's presence into my every day. But, the holiness and peace of Lent discipline has settled around me like a thick blanket of snow.

Day 19: Help me stay out of your way, Lord

It was eerily quiet on my email today. T-minus 8 days until my big, fat, hairy, important conference and the day at work was almost effortless. Ulrich and I worked out a rhythm to increase both of the time we are able to work by staggering shifts with the kids. When I've come home, I've spent time focused on attending to them and they've maintained a full cup despite not having afternoons with me.

Slowly but surely I am knocking off to-do items and like I said, my in-box is eerily quiet.

I see 100 small miracles. Easily explainable by circumstance. But instead, I choose to know that God is silently filling my cup. Meeting me where I'm at. Taking my offering of trust and showing me what peace that passes understanding looks like and what sufficient grace is.

I don't know if the conference will turn out well. I don't know when the baby will arrive. I don't know how much heartache lay on the road ahead, but I will take today as a gift. God is on the journey with me and so far has been working things out in ways I couldn't have planned. Opportunities, synergies, traction that I was not entirely expecting. Kids falling into a schedule on their own. Helping with the house. All while contractions continue to interfere with my ability to keep myself together.

I throw up my hands and say -- keep doing it God, you are way better at this than I am. Help me to stay out of your way.

Day 18: Just Be

Ulrich took an afternoon shift to give me some extra work time. I came home late. Setting down my stuff and quickly scarfing food, I sat down on the floor to let the boys have some undivided attention before bedtime.

I sat there on the floor of Eddie's room for an hour and half. I didn't move. Didn't check my phone. Didn't take the lead in play. I just sat. In pace with the kids we drifted from one activity to the next. They brought me toys. I played.

As bedtime neared, I asked Eddie to clean his room before we read books for the night. To my surprise, his lately defiant self happily began cleaning. Andrew helped. Then they settled right into story time. Andrew took medicine and bottle and went to sleep easily as I rocked him. Eddie quickly said prayers after books and didn't get up after I left his room.

I pondered it. Why was is so easy tonight?

I filled their cups. Just me. No elaborate activities. No adventures. No high effort on my part. Just sitting, fully present was enough to make them feel loved, acknowledged and attended to.

Faith can be like that too. Sometimes we don't need miracles. We don't need elaborate church. We don't need deep insight or revelation. Sometimes, we just need to sit and be ourselves with God and know that God is fully present with us in that comfortable space.

Day 17: High stakes

In two weeks I'm helping to put on a giant conference down in LA. The stakes feel high. There are a lot of celebrities coming to the event, a lot of investors, a lot of people and a lot of money on the line ... It feels a bit like planning a wedding but on steroids.

I feel all kinds of pressure to make this thing amazing and with the time drawing close I feel like there aren't enough hours in the day to get it all done.

Additionally, Ulrich's folks left for a 3 week trip to Australia. So, instead of my normal 12 hour Monday, I worked 3 hours today and look out to the rest of the week worried that miracle or not -- there's no way this thing is coming together the way it should.

I think through the possible outcomes -- What if I fall on my face? What if the baby comes early and I don't even make it to LA? What if it's a mess? I found myself in prayer a lot today. I meditated on letting it go. On offering it up. Can God take my loaves and fishes and feed the multiples in LA?

Day 16: God Speaks

God speaks on Sundays.

Despite my better judgement to stay in bed for the day, I was eager to go to church today. This is a John year...(see previous post)...and I knew today's reading was about Jesus at the well with the Samaritan woman. The sermon was surely to talk about God meeting us exactly where we are at. I needed some living water and hoped I would get new insights into this favorite and familiar story.

I sat in church and listened to the reading. The thing that strikes me about the Gospel of John is how confused the conversations are. For the 1st half of the book, most of the time, the conversations don't make sense. Jesus, using simple things as metaphors for the deep lessons of faith speaks right past people. Somehow, they catch on to this and the conversations get very cryptic. But the symbols are so basic and universal that I can't help to catch on water, wind, birth, sight, life, death.

We arrived home after a day of trying to keep the kids occupied in a way that I could rest -- McDonalds, playgrounds and libraries. I was starving. The kids had fallen asleep in the back seat. I turned to Ulrich. "What's the plan of attack for the night? What should we do for dinner" My phone buzzed...."I'll be over with italian casserole in like 15 minutes"

Minutes later a minivan pulled in behind us and a beautiful tin-foil tray with our evening meal appeared. Sometimes God speaks in simple ways.... A tinfoil tray... grace to know we aren't alone on the journey.

Day 15: Trust

Deep Breath.

Saturday.

Another day at the beach. The kids lost their minds with excitement -- playing in sand, stomping in the water, splashing in puddles. I laid in the sun resting and my contractions picked up speed and intensity. We were so close to home and yet it felt like we were far away from everything -- from work, from life. I was at peace.

We came home and the kids were exhausted. They went down fairly easily and we had energy to watch a bit of grown-up TV (a VERY rare luxury.) We decided to watch "What to Expect when your are Expecting." Mindless comedy about having a baby. Given that my contractions were continuing, I felt a bit of pregnancy camaraderie would be good. I laughed the whole way through. But, as we neared the end and I watched the labors, I became painfully aware of how close it all is. The labor, the pain, the new baby. I got a bit overwhelmed.

I am not ready. I'm not ready to hurt like that. I'm not ready to welcome a new baby into our chaotic life. Confronted hard that the timing is far out of my control, so is the labor process. I was overwhelmed with the anxiety that I am simply, utterly and completely unprepared for any of it.

As contractions continued, I put myself on alert for signs of labor and did what I could to rest, hydrate and calm my body. I also started playing out scenarios of what life would be like if the baby came on different dates.... and then... I stopped. 

It is lent. Why on earth wouldn't I trust God with the timing of this? I was extended to journey deeply in faith. Faith -- about the pain of labor,  the health of myself and my baby, about the future of our business, about the well-being of my children, the strain on my marriage. The call is to let go of all of it and to trust that the walk that God has called me to leads to Easter.

I lay here letting the pains come and go, breathing deeply and trusting them to pass. Ulrich runs around exasperated after our two crazy boys trying to get them down  on his own. I reach deep to find faith that at the top of this hill, we will be transformed by the Wind that guides our walk.

Day 14: Guilt

The boys had school canceled for parent-teacher conferences. I was irritated that I had 2 days without daycare but I was also eager to get in and get some new insights into where my boys are at that would help me me re-structure what we were doing at home.

Kids change. Just as you think you have it figured out, they grow and change and develop and suddenly you need a new plan for how to parent them. Eddie seems to have entered this time of insatiable desire to learn. I feel like he needs a constant supply of rich activities to support his deep desire and need to explore and learn. He's also gotten a bit more of a chip on his shoulder. Always a complacent child, he's recently decided that he doesn't want to do things I ask of him -- I'm trying to figure out if I'm giving him enough.

I walked into his classroom. His teachers know the same kid I do. He loves to learn. He tunes out when he wants to avoid instructions. He has trouble transitioning from one task to another. I brought up my concerns and asked what I might do. Their response -- "Every mother, care-giver and teacher wants to give children more than we can. You don't need to feel guilty. Eddie is developing well."

As a mother, it's hard to let go and trust that your brokenness is enough for your children. I want to give them the best. I want to love them more than I do. I want to support them in who they will become more than I can. I want the world to be perfect for them when it isn't.

God knows the heartache of parenting and still invites us to trust his plan for our kids. His plan that includes our brokenness and inability to be what they need. Another new baby in our life will further divide my time and attention. Will allow there to be less of me for everyone. But, this baby is part of God's perfect plan for our family. My job is to trust that the Spirit will be present and will guide my children on each of their paths and be open the the wind that blows, allowing it to shape me into the mother that they each need.

Day 13: Contractions

34 weeks. I am drawing near the end. For me, like it is for many women, the end of pregnancy is a rollercoaster of suck that culminates in the awesome, magical experience of labor and birth. I remember being pregnant with Eddie and reading books on natural laboring that described it as "orgasmic" Sign me up for one of those labors. I would describe mine as something closer to 12th century torture techniques.

My body likes to overachieve -- so it starts contracting somewhere around week 20. As I go through the last half of pregnancy, the contractions grow more painful and more frequent until I emerge out of labor with a baby in my arms. By about this time, 34 weeks, contractions are strong enough to hurt - to make me stop and breathe -- and I think -- I've still got a month ahead of me.

The fantastic overlap of Lent with the end of pregnancy means that in a very real way, I am journeying to the Cross with my Lord. Mindful of the pain that is coming. Mindful of the miracle on the otherside. Stepping painfully into it and embracing it. But I knew this journey was coming. When I saw that positive test result and looked up my due date and realized it fell just after Easter. I smiled to myself and said, God is inviting me on a special journey this lent.

Along with all the other storms and winds in life, this quiet march towards birth and re-birth at Easter is happening in my soul and every contraction serves as a reminder and an invitation to focus on things unseen.

Day 12: I am a force to be reckoned with...

All on top of my blogging. A moment of balance in my life. I ended the weekend feeling encouraged that maybe, just maybe I could do this -- then Monday hit. Like a storm.

The rush of emails, the demands of the kids, the disaster of a house and I'm back on my butt.... nope, I can't do it. Help me, God, my life is a mess again -- or maybe still.

I keep thinking -- World, just you wait till I'm not pregnant and my kids are grown. You haven't seen nothing yet.

I want, I need to believe that I am important. That I am talented. That I can do things. I want to think I'm being held back by circumstance and divided priorities. I want to think in a me-centric way. Sitting here in my messy house, with messy kids and a worn out body I want to think I'm better than that. I want to eat from the tree in the middle of the garden. I want to be like God.

Scripture is full of references to the greatness of the weak. God has his mind on the sparrow. He is with the lost and the helpless, the broken and the addicted. I think of my homeless friend and what a mess her life is (and by the way, how much more together I am than she is) but in thinking of that I see the exact point why God favors the weak.

She always says to me -- You know I'm a hot mess, but Jesus just keeps saving me.

What can God do with my pride? In all my togetherness, where do I leave space for Jesus to save me -- daily? hourly? CS Lewis talks about pride being a root sin. Our sense of self importance creating a wedge between us and God. In brokenness, we mend that chasm. We seek God. We fall on God. We've got nothing else to catch us.

Maybe for lent, the call is to give up my pride... maybe I should just let myself in on a little secret -- that I'm a hot mess and Jesus just keeps saving me.

Day 11: Nicodemus

After writing a post on how little I am touched by actual church services, I am compelled to write about this simple, holy moment at church yesterday.

We arrived and the kids decided to be more antsy than usual. Before having a moment to react, Ulrich swooped them up and took them to the nursery leaving me alone in the pew. It was an odd feeling. Andrew does not do well in church nurseries so, for nearly the past year, I've left service with him at some point and gone away to meditate on my own -- either rocking him in the nursery or sitting outside and watching him play in the church garden. I have come to find these moments to be very worshipful as quiet times when I can meditate.

So today, alone in church as a grown-up felt a little different. They began the readings -- John 3. I smiled -- "It's a John year"

The church has a standard set of readings, known as the lectionary, that most of the main denominations use to guide worship throughout the year. There are 3 different sets of readings which rotate annually. Three different Christmas readings, three different Easter readings, etc. Because of this blog and my particular affinity to the season of Lent, I know the Lenten readings well and my favorite set of readings comes when the lectionary focuses on the chapter of John. This year is a John year.

The readings from John reflect deep transformation by way of grace -- Nicodemous in the garden, the samaritan woman at the well, the blind man, the raising of Lazarus. Jesus meets humanity where it is and transforms it with an invitation to step in to grace.

I settled into my seat preparing myself for a sermon that I knew would inevitably focus on transformation and grace. I smiled. A small sign that God is with me on this journey.

Day 10: Made in God's image

Writing this blog feeds my soul in a way that few things do. I've spent the last few days contemplating why that is. I realized that we are made in God's image and each carry a set of qualities that connect us with the divine. Worship,  I think in part, is tapping into those pieces of himself that God has placed in us and while heartedly offering them back. I think of the book,  the 5 languages of Love,  not sure I'd it had been written but I would wager that we are each also wired with a language of worship.

For me,  I've discovered that creative expression engenders a truer form of worship than I can achieve but other means.  In the act of writing this, God speaks to me in surprising ways.  As sentences form,  my brain connects the dots differently and much better than when I sit and simply read a devotion or mediate on scripture. I notice the same thing when I am planning worship,  writing a sermon,  creating music or art.  God is present and the planning itself becomes a deep act of worship. More so even than the final offering.

I see it in others too.  Teachers truly worshiping as they teach.  Thinkers as they meditate. Servants as they serve. On Sunday,  we come together to be church. I think it's OK, if it doesn't entirely feel like worship when you are sitting in the pew.  God may speak a different spiritual language  for you. 

It has taken me years of struggling with faith,  experimenting with different formats of worship and endless walks in the desert to realize - I am not wired to experience God passively. I can't find God easily in a book, a church service or quiet moment.  I've always wondered why as so many spiritual practices recommend things of this sort. Don't get me wrong,  there are moments when I am deeply touched by prayer or scripture or a church service,  but as a rule I tend to not feel as connected to God by these things as I would like to be.

If I look back and think of times where I feel the Spirit most actively engaging me,  they are almost all creative moments.  Writing this blog each lent,  planning worship for Crossings,  a dinner Biblestudy I did once where I challenged myself to cook a meal that reflected scripture.  In each of these things, my brain would churn all day on the topic. I would wrestle it.  I would create in my mind.  Then,  things start to crystallize  and I realize something new and in that moment God changes my heart.

Day 9: Creating community

As part of this Lenten practice of time,  I've decided to take on reading a book.  At this exact moment in life,  the idea of reading a book cover to cover in 40 days is almost as absurd as trying to climb Everest. But, the whole idea is to create space for God to speak -- So, I found an appropriate book - 

"Desperate: Hope for the mom who needs to breathe" 

and  I dove in choking back emotions I hardly give myself time to feel.  In reading it,  I was reminded that no matter the circumstances,  mothering small children is hard and in one way or another all moms could all use support and a bit of grace as they try to dance the dance.

So,  I reached out to mom's I know on Facebook and asked if any wanted to join this Lenten journey of finding God in the every day grind. Not sure if anything will come of it,  but I have long wanted to create a stronger community of women around myself to share the journey of motherhood with. All my attempts over the past few years have not really turned into anything, but I've realized a big part of finding God is looking. We were made for community and I know that somewhere out there I will find opportunities to connect in deep, authentic ways.

There is a part of me that feels like God knew how big my challenges would be in this season of life and how much my heart pushes me to give and decided that maybe full blown community is more than I can handle right now. But we were not meant to journey alone, particularly as mothers. Motherhood is meant to be a supported journey and so, I press on -- looking for creative ways to build relationships, to renew my spirit, to share my journey. 

Day 8: Leaning on Grace

I've been keeping my spirit focused on that verse "my grace is sufficient for you... so that the power of Christ may dwell in you."

Life has been punching me in the face.  Stressful emails continue to line my inbox,  nights are longer than days as bouts of coughing force me to spend more hours awake than asleep and braxton hicks contractions grow more intense and frequent with each passing day.

Most years,  I find myself at this state of brokenness as we near Palm Sunday and the final climb towards the cross,  but this year,  a week in to lent I'm already heavy leaning into grace.What does it even mean to lean on Grace?  How can Christ show strong in these broken moments of life when we are falling apart?  What wisdom does the cross bring?

The moment if finding God in an out-and-out free fall, when there is no plan B, no safety net,  nothing else to catch you is the very moment faith becomes real. Marching up that hill, Jesus had no other plan.  He leaned,  all the way.  He fell,  all the way.  But God was there,  present and faith became tangible on Easter morning.

In this brokenness for me will also come a very real moment when God will show up.  I will recognize it and I will be reminded of what the power of Christ looks like.

Day 7: A thorn in the flesh

I woke up today defeated. For nearly the past two weeks I have been constantly awoken throughout the night -- either pregnancy symptom or Andrew with what I just discovered to be a double ear infection or a constant chronic cough that I just can't seem to shake -- whatever the reason, I have been up just about ever 30 minutes throughout the night.

There has been a bit of the miracle of the loaves and fishes going on, God has been taking the small sleep that I have gotten and somehow made it enough for me to get to somewhere around 7pm before I crash hard. But today, I woke up broken. I just couldn't face the day. I was too tired. I was angry. I just wanted life to be not hard. Throughout the night I had prayed and prayed for some relief. I had prayed to stop coughing. I had prayed for sleep. But, like Paul's prayers to remove the thorn in his flesh the only response I got was -- My grace is sufficient.

Indeed.

I was not in the mood to talk to God this morning. My grace is sufficient felt like another way to say -- suck it up and deal. I've been sucking it up and just didn't have it this morning.

I crawled into my car. Of course, my homeless friend called and asked me to bring some paperwork to help her get into an apartment, so grudgingly I made my way. Late for work. Too much to do. Tired and angry. What uplifting meditation would I ever post about today?

I turned on Pandora to listen to hymns. I tried to look for that ever sufficient grace. God, you are just going to have to deal with my bad mood this morning.

But, somehow my heart melted as I drove. I thought about Haiti. I thought about working in the hospital with folks with chronic illness. I thought about time spent with the mentally ill. I thought about my homeless friend that I was on my way to visit. For whatever reason, as I drove my mind was filled with the deep suffering that is all around and .... what right did I have to be pissed off about an unanswered prayer about a little cough and some sleep. I reached my friend and handed her the paperwork she needed. Her 2.5-year-old daughter climbed up into my lap and snuggled into my pregnant belly. She melted into me and I melted.

I thought further as I left, perhaps this lack of sleep is a forcing dependency. I can surely not claim that I am doing anything by my own strength. It was, and is, a miracle that I made it through today functioning.

"And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness." Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."

A hard pill to swallow. But maybe the promise is true about God showing up in our broken moments.

Day 6: Meditations on Stress

I've been having one of those weeks were I almost dread to check my email. There is a lot of uncertainty in my life and a lot of relationships to manage in my work. The two of those combined makes email a stressful place.

As life would have it, the kids needed my full attention in the afternoon, so I completely abandoned the thought of responding to incoming emails. Of course, I couldn't help but check incoming ones -- so as I played and walked and cleaned my mind churned, trying to make decisions and trying to figure out how I might respond to each situation.

Evening came and the kids finally went to bed. I was exhausted and my mind a bit blurry. I thought about my devotion time with God....How would I spend it?

It dawned on me that each stressor in life is an invitation to prayer. We stress because we fear judgement or conflict. We worry about our lack of control over life. We worry about uncertain outcomes and try to create more certainty for ourselves.

I decided to meditate on my stress. On each situation, leaning into it, poking it and trying to get at the root of why it was stressing me out. I imagined how God might use each situation either to grow me in my walk or to bring light to the world. I explored my call to be light. The herd of elephants melted off my shoulders and I drifted peacefully to sleep.

Praying through the things that stress you, exploring why they cause stress and allowing a moment for God to speak to you about where he might call you to go can most surely lighten the yolk. I had never imagined my inbox as a prayer list, but have just found it to be a powerful way to invite God to be present in every aspect of my life....

And now the hard part... stepping up to the challenge of writing those replies.

Day 5: Blessing my busyness

Monday's are my get-stuff-done days. My in-laws are retired and graciously offered to take the kids every Monday afternoon which gives me the once-a-week opportunity to work a full day. Eager to get started, I usually hop out of bed and into the office.

Not today.

I must have been awaken every hour of the night last night between end of pregnancy biology and my 20 month old, who I am convinced has teeth that are slowly making their way in (I don't think they will actually cut through till the middle of summer, so this could be a long sleepless period for me) Ulrich in his mercy, recognized the signs of a bad night and let me sleep in till just after 7. Problem was, I had a phone call at 8 and after that the day would be off to the races. So, I was behind the moment I woke up. Behind and exhausted.

Even as the day took off, my struggle with how to carve out space for God rested in my head. At what point in this day will I be able to make space? I was scheduled with meetings and loaded down with a long task list which justly deserved my attention. At the end of the day, I would return home to kids who hadn't seen me since they woke up. They would merit my full attention. But -- God too -- merits my full attention.

It's now 9:30, in an exhausted heap I fall into bed. The house is still and finally, finally a moment of silence presents itself. In the quiet darkness, my sleep deprived instinct is to rush hurriedly to bed. But, I pause. I curl up comfortably in a pile of pillows and bury myself in my blankets and reflect on the day.

Where was God? 

Blessing my busyness. Blessing my interactions at work and inspiring creativity. Blessing my scarce moments with my children and enabling me to be present with them when it would have been easy to keep on working or fall asleep from exhaustion. Blessing me in this quiet moment. In truth, sometimes we don't need to give a whole lot to find God in our lives,we just need to become aware that He IS.

Day 4: A breath of life

The week was hard, we all needed renewal.

I looked on my phone in the morning -- 75 degrees -- It's going to be warm. We are going to spend the day outside. I listed options on the white board: yardwork, bike ride, various parks, a trip to the zoo...

Eddie decided the best option was to go to the beach. So we cleaned out the car, packed it up with supplies and headed to Crown Beach in Alameda. For whatever reason, this beach is hardly ever crowded and unlike most California coasts, it is sandy and a gentle place for toddlers to play.

We arrived to a perfect blue sky, a warm breeze and nearly empty beach. Andrew immediately dove into the sand, laying flat, face down, starting to dig. Eddie made "sand angels" I laid out a blanket and smiled from somewhere deep in my soul. After a bit, we headed down to the water's edge. The tide was out and there was a simi-muddy stretch of glorious puddles maybe 30 feet wide. Toddler paradise. The boys took off like rockets - running, splashing and jumped. Andrew shook with excitement, nearly trembling with uncontainable joy. I watched them and my heart melted. I think there was nothing that I could have done, paid for or organized that would have filled them so deeply.

As they ran circles around me I mediated on their joy and on the sunlight, mud and water that surrounded me. I thought about what I might post. I thought of baptism and the freedom we find there - liberation like toddlers running on a beach. I thought about mud and water, life and creation. I thought about how the two were connected. Baptism as a place of new creation, of freedom, of life.

Then, I let myself be. For hours. I let the Spirit wash over me and be a force of life, of freedom and new creation and I was renewed.

Day 3: Struggling for definition

Usually, I give up concrete things and pick up concrete disciplines for Lent. I've given up my to-do list, prepackaged foods, and leaven as examples. Each somehow created a gap in my life to be filled by the Spirit drawing me to God in unexpected ways. In choosing a discipline, I try to think about what am I leaning on and then remove it forcing me to lean on God.

This year, as I've mentioned I feel the need to give up time. To trust God with the hours of the day that I am given and to make time to listen to God's quiet voice. I am struggling a bit with what that means. Does it mean that regardless of the day I set a dedicated period of time - 1 hour, 2 hours, 3 hours to - to spiritual practice? Does it mean I take on a set of practices that take time every day and complete them - like writing this blog, praying, reading? Do I get involved with some church or community spiritual practice that creates a new demand on my time? Do I just simply spend my days awake and alert and be willing to respond to God when God shows up?

I think about if I were to prioritize a different relationship and put direct effort into it over the course of time, what would it look like? Say I wanted to get closer to my mother or build my marriage or engage with my kids. There would be an element of dedicated time -- a phone call or eating together every day. There would be an element of responding to them when they called me. There would probably be an element of doing something together in common.

It would be easy to say for these 40 days I will drop everything else and focus on connecting to God. Let's do a retreat somewhere in the mountain and my life will just "be there" when I get back. But I know that the call for this time is to make space for God while still truly pursuing the other calls in my life - to be a good mother and wife and to support this start-up that has potential to bring healing in to countless lives. So I struggle on...

Day 2: Friction

It has been a long week and I am exhausted. I invited Ulrich to join me as I picked up the kids from pre-school so we could treat ourselves to some In-and-Out Drive-Through. As I dropped him back off at work I could see that tired, "I can't do another day of this" look on his face and I asked him if he was ok. All he wanted was an evening off.

I decided to focus my efforts of the afternoon towards making the evening frictionless. The kids were not cooperating about taking a nap so we took a long walk to the grocery store and stopped at McDonald's on the way back for an ice-cream cone and some play time. The afternoon was beautiful. The weather nice and I had bought a delicious tri-tip and asperagus for dinner. We came home and I set to work to get the evening ready. Eddie helped cook dinner and Andrew, who had fallen asleep in the stroller woke up hungry so I fed him yogurt on the kitchen floor. Things seemed hitchless. 

My evening plans involved a nice dinner together, baking cookies, watching a family movie and getting the kids to bed a bit on the early side. It was a plan that both kids and parents could get behind and usually nights like that feel fairly effortless.

But, for whatever reason, the boys decided to insert friction. Eddie pulled Ulrich's work laptop down from the shelf and broke the screen. He then continued a streak of abnormal bad behavior pushing against me. Testing my authority. Andrew keyed in and joined the movement, refusing to eat and throwing tantrums before and after bath.

I can only think that there are times that God has in store such beautiful plans for us but we thrash them with our own insistence to be in control. Unable to see the plan that I had laid out for the night, Eddie could only see me working to get dinner ready. He didn't know about the cookies or the movie or the night time snuggles that I had planned out. Lent is my best effort at setting aside my tantrums, my insistence on doing things on my schedule, according to my will and listen for the plan that God has laid out. I wish I could say that I never acted like a toddler before God but I am fairly certain that I do. Luckily, like a loving mother -- God takes my tantrums and disciplines me, puts me to bed and wakes up with hugs and smiles the next day. I delay the plans the Spirit has set out for me but I don't abandon them. 

In these days, I will try to listen and obey allowing my spirit to be molded that I may wear a yoke that is light.

Day 1: Broken

Last night we took the kids to ash Wednesday service. I'm always nervous -- a serious, solemn, reflective service right at bedtime most typically spells stress and disaster. We arrived to find a darkened room, stations with symbols, candles. The pastor greeted us and handed us a booklet explaining that the first half of service was a self-guided tour through reflective stations.

Water
Oil
Clay
Ashes
The Cross

These are fairly heavy symbols to explain to a 4 year old but for whatever reason, I decided to take on the challenge. Here is the summary of my conversations with Eddie throughout the service:

Water: We dipped our hands in the baptismal font and talked about baby Dylan's recent baptism - a special bath where God marks you and seals you, names you and makes a claim on your life. When we touch water, we get clean.

Oil: A long time ago, they used to put oil on the heads of the new kings to show that they were special. Now we put oil on the head of each person to show that they are special to God.

Clay: "What happens when we squish the clay?" It changes. That's right and with clay we can make any shape we want. If we are open to listen to God, he can make us into any kind of person he wants us to be.

Ashes: This one was tough. I looked at that innocent face who is so full of questions about the world. I just couldn't tell him that we would all become dust. So pondering it a moment, I said -- These are ashes. Eventually everything breaks. Toys break. Cars break. People break. We put ashes on our forehead to remember that everything can get broken.

The Cross: The cross station had little pieces of fabric that were to be ripped during confession and placed on the cross. "Eddie, why do we have a cross here?" "Because God was on the cross" "Do you know why?" "Tell me." "Because he loves us and doesn't want us to stay broken."

We took fabric and went to our seats. Eddie was engaged and asked what they fabric meant. And, in explaining this to Eddie, he put the pieces together:

Once, a long time ago there was a big curtain. God was on one side of the curtain and people were on the other side of the curtain. But God didn't want to be separated from the people so he ripped the curtain. Sometimes we do things that aren't very nice and that makes God sad, but when we say sorry to God it makes him happy and we rip the curtain between us and God so that we can be together.

Eddie was quiet.

Mom, was Jesus broken on the cross?

Yep, Jesus was in the world and the world is broken. When Jesus went on the cross, he got broken too. But do you know what? Jesus was made out of God and God can't be broken so Jesus didn't stay broken, he got fixed.

Eddie's wheels turned.... Then if God comes through the curtain to be with people, then they can get fixed too.

Yes Eddie, if God comes through the curtain to be with people then we all get fixed too. That is the promise of Easter. God will fix us.

Blessings on your 40 days.

Ash Wednesday: Lent begins again

I pondered what do I need to let go of. What spiritual discipline is God inviting me into to deepen my walk and trust. Looking around in my life, the answer seems to point to time. I have always been busy but with two small children and a start-up, the demands on my time have increased every day and I go to bed at the end of the day wondering if I did it right. Did I give the kids enough? Did I spend enough effort on the business? I look at my growing belly and worry about how will I ever carve out enough time to care for and love yet another new precious life.

Ash Wednesday, the imposition of ashes on our foreheads. The reminder that we are dust and will return to the earth as nothing humbles me to think as important as it is for me to present in my life, that my life will end and the world will go on without me. God is eternal acting and weaving in the human story across time. Existing without the constraints that I have. Inviting each of us into a deeper purpose.

And so for Lent, my discipline is to lean in to that deeper story. To let go of my fears of being enough and having enough time to fulfill all my duties. Rather, I trust that God has a deeper purpose for each of my children, for my husband, for our business, for me. I will take time to respond to God - to listen, to read, to pray, to write, to reflect and to see God in the world around me.

Looking at my life, I don't see time to do this. My to-do list at the start-up is packed. The momentum is building around our product and the business is really starting to take off. I've received so much validation that this is a call that God has placed on my life, giving me an opportunity to be light in places that really needs it. Motherhood is a also a call and a tall one. Sleepless nights and busy days. Eddie is 4, exploding with the need to learn and grow. Andrew is 20 months and in the height of the terrible 2's, demanding schedule and attention -- exerting will. My belly large with the promise of an Easter baby.

In the past year, trying to respond to these calls. I've cut out every bit of wasted time. I don't watch TV. I don't socialize. I don't garden like I used to. I cook efficiently. I've minimized and optimized everything I possibly can. So, I don't really know where this time will come from. Most certainly - something important. But none the less, I will lean in and carve out space to be still and know that God is God. And God, the eternal, not bound by time will make the time that I have enough for his purpose in my life.