A promise I cling to...

It is Easter morning.  A holy mystery that I have wrestled with my whole life and a promise I cling to.  He is risen.

We carried stones into the Good Friday service.  According to Jewish custom,  stones are placed in a pile to mark a new grave. These stones were for the grave of a savior we loved and followed.  Stones that represent the weight of worry, pain,  suffering... death itself.  I bought baby Miles. The ashes and the stones and the dark church. A final boom filled the room.  It was finished.  Andrew carried his small stone and threw it in the pile.  He held my hand.

Saturday,  miles dressed in black came to the church.  The boys carried thier baptismal candles. Water poured.  The christ candle lit for the very first time.  The boys candles lit one after another.  The light spread.  The darkness of Good Friday broken by the new light of Christ.  And here,  miles joined us. Water poured over his head reminding us of a promise that nothing would ever ever seperate him from the love of God. We dressed him in white.  The first witness this year of the resurrection.

I am at peace. I sat in church this morning and soaked in the hymns.   Words with such deep promise. I wrestled again with the holy mystery of the empty tomb.  The promise I cling to.  Miles dressed in white. This Lent, I let go of my ability to protect him from the pain and darkness of this world.  And I brought him to the deep water that carries him into the promise of this holy day that pain and suffering and death do not have the final say in his life or mine. We are both born anew.

Blessings to all who have walked these holy days with me.  May you also receive this unknowable promise that nothing, at all,  can separate us from the love of God.

Day 43: Betrayal

I've spent the day reflecting on the last supper. Usually I focus my thoughts on the servanthood of Jesus,  his words, the layers of meaning in the bread and wine.  Today,  what has captured me is the betrayal.

Betrayal is one of those offenses hardest to forgive.  It rolls around and around in our minds.  Even small betrayals  capture so much off our emotional focus...

getting "thrown under the bus" at work, 

friends siding with other friends instead of us

family disputes, 

a breakup,  

a divorce... 

These things break us in deep places. 

To love or to trust and then to be hurt pushes us to build bigger walls, stronger defenses.  Trust doesn't come so easily the next time around.The betrayals of our lives carve themselves as permanent scars in our identity. But do they have to?

Jesus knew Judas would betray him.  Literally hand him over to death for money.  Ultimate betrayal. Did he know just at the time of the last supper or did he know the moment he met Judas?

Does Jesus have anything to say to us in the midst of or own betrayals? He is often quoted "Love your enemies." Did he feel this in his deepest gut looking over to the friend who he truly loved but knew would eventually betray.

Jesus doesn't offer easy lessons.  His way is wrought with pain and danger. Yet... hope. Is there some greater hope that comes from choosing to walk side by side with those who will tear us down? 

I don't believe that Jesus would advocate for people to stay in abusive relationships or to seek out danger intentionally. I think rather the call is to love deeply and live fully.  Bravely. To not let the fear of being hurt dim your light.  Or to shrink back from who you are called to be because there is a Judas at your work or church or school or neighborhood. The world needs your light. Love on and know Jesus can heal our wounds.  They don't have the final word. 

Day 42: I may have finally run out of things to say

I have been searching my heart for insights for the last 40 days.  If I am to be completely honest,  I think I've run out of things to say.

Reflecting on the day,  it was any ordinary day.  The boys were squirrelly so I turned on meditative music and did some night time yoga to quiet thier bodies.  They laid in bed and I talked them through a guided mediation to imagine that thier beds were clouds and they were drifting over the earth and gently raining on flowers below.  They snuggled into bed.  I grabbed my phone to write this post.

Nothing really came to me.  Silence.  Watch the boys settle into bed. Listen to the waves and flutes from the meditative music softly playing in the background.  The soft glow of the lamp. No words really. 

"Be still and know that I am God."

On many days when words or faith or life fail me,  I come back to these words. They are short and simple but they carry a very deep promise.

So tonight,  as my little guys drift off to sleep,  I will work to still my busy body and busy mind 

to just be still

and know...

That

God
Is
God.

Amen.

Day 41: For some reason I am not cranky today

Every day I feel myself softening. I've been rigid, a bit defensive,  self conscious. But as holy week sets in I've found myself melting into it.

I've stepped up my disciplines a bit and gave up diet soda  among other things which has been a guilty pleasure for the past few years.  Sweet.  Caffienated. Calorie free.  Bubbles to make me feel full when I've been on a diet. Of course, my body feels the effect.  I've not been sleeping due to coughing and children... so I'm tired. Add a mild headache. Hectic day and really I should be at my knees. But I have a strange sense of "this too shall pass. "

I've been thinking about major decisions I have to make for the boys.  I have two IEP  meetings coming up where I need wisdom to advocate the best next step for each of them.  There are lots of uncertain things just in front of me.  But somehow,  I'm finding it possible to let go of the wheel and take in the future that finds me.

The humble part is still a work in progress.  I still have nice long self righteous rants in my mind but they are shorter and less frequent. I haven't found resolution but somehow I'm able to dance to the unresolved cords in my life.  Maybe it's jazz, maybe improv... or some kid is banging on a piano.  Whatever the case,  I've made my peace with it recognizing that for a while life will be a bit uncomfortable.  Tired.  Headache.  Uncertainty.  Too many decisions. Not enough space to think things through.  Coughing.  Cranky children. I can recognize these things are part of life and God will go forth as a pillar before me.  My job is to put one foot in font of the other and follow.

Day 40: Preparing my heart to baptize baby Miles

There is an ancient tradition in the church to baptize new believers at the Easter vigil service following a long journey through Lent where they learn the tenants of faith.  At the vigil,  there is this incredible moment where dark become light. The water covers us and we are sealed in promise of the cross and the resurrection.

My first lent in California altered my life in ways that I would have never imagined. Ulrich and I were dating and together we dove deep into our faith.  He ended up proposing as the sun rose on Easter morning ten years ago from yesterday. And still, our lives find fresh rhythm and meaning each year during this holy season. 

It has only felt proper to baptize each of my boys at this time of year and use the season of lent to reflect on my journey with them to the water.  This year,  I travel with Miles.

The season of lent is hard on a mommy heart.  It starts with ash Wednesday. Placing that dark mark on his little chubby face and confronting that fact that he too will one day return to dust. Ultimately,  I cannot protect him from suffering or death as much as every cell in my body fights against this.

As we journey forward,  I reflected on the faith I will hand to him.  God,  purpose,  eternity, death,  light,  law,  right and wrong... The easy stuff... I think that kids learn most of what they know by watching. They see what we say under our breath. They internalize our stress. They imitate or actions.  Day in and day out.  How I spend my time,  the words I choose to narrate our story, my gut reactions that betray what I really think and feel.

This is a monumental task. At some point during lent,  it breaks me.  I cannot be the perfect guide for my boys.  Some of the stumbling blocks on their path may come from deep flaws in my broken human self.

So I bring Miles to the water, like I brought his brother's before, to realize that he is not mine.  God has a path and a plan for his life. By grace,  God will use me in my brokenness to guide his young life.  The water is a promise to him and to me that there no place he can go that is beyond the reach of God's incredible love. No matter what life brings,  I will cling to that promise for each of my boys

Day 39: How hosanna changed into crucify him....

Palm Sunday is the start of Holy Week.  As a child I found it confusing that people could greet Jesus with a royal parade then turn around and hang him on a tree a few days later. Now that I've lived a few years and watched news unfold it's a bit more understandable. Just think of hero's turned villain and vice versa as "more facts are uncovered..."

I'm not a biblical historian but piecing together a number of great sermons (including one from this morning) and bible studies,  here's my take on Palm Sunday and the passion that followed.

Jesus lived during a bit of a cultural renaissance for the Jewish people.  Various captivities had led to a dark age. But in the years prior to Jesus birth there was a return to the scripture and the law.  The temple was rededicated .  Israel was on track to return to the era of King David.  Except...Rome. Rome was huge. 

There would not be freedom for Israel unless God appointed a new Moses. The Messiah who would usher in a long awaited never ending peace.

Jesus was positioned to be the Messiah they long waited for.  He performed miracles. He spoke as one who spoke to God.  It seemed to be coming together. The Messiah must have come.  It was Passover, the celebration of freedom,  when Jesus rode into town on a colt. He was The spitting image of the Messiah described in scriptures.  Full of hope,  people took to the streets. Finally, God has come to set us free.

But Jesus preached a different freedom.  Water that you drink where you'll never thirst again.  Freedom that transcends the human condition.  Beyond oppression, violence,  physical or mental ailment.  Freedom. This freedom is hard to nail down. What does it even mean? How can you be free if you are sill oppressed? Is it madness? Is Jesus a lunatic?

It struck a strong nerve. This was definitively not the Messiah they had been waiting for.  Not the way the story was supposed to end. Confusion turned to fear. Fear turned to anger.  Anger turned to hate. Sound familiar? It is the story of humanity. We grasp at things to try to control.  To create safety.  To make happily ever after.  When things don't go to plan we get scared and sometimes we lash out. Every "ism" we see is an echo of this same script.

But.... The freedom is there.   Jesus rode on.

Each Palm Sunday I challenge myself to consider what I truly hope for as he rides by. Do I seek freedom created but force or freedom created by love?

As I enter into this holy of weeks,  I have to seek to lay down my weapons and re-embrace the way of the cross. Not to create a life around pushing my way to the front of the line but to accept that grace offers freedom even (maybe especially) in moments of weakness and humility.

Day 38: Preparing for Passover

There is a lot of debate among both Christians and Jews about the role of Passover in the Christian faith.  There are some who see the two religions as world's apart with separate stories and traditions. There are others who see Christianity born out of the Jewish story.  I stand in the latter camp.  For me,  my faith takes on a richer hue and depth if I consider that the story began with Abraham rather than Jesus.

Passover and Easter are intertwined.  They are parts of the same story. God offering freedom to humanity from those things that enslave us. The first Passover was a literal freedom from slavery.  Like Africans brought to slavery in the old south,  Israelites found themselves enslaved in Egypt. Thier suffering grew from generation to generation until God appointed the unlikely character of Moses to lead them out of Egypt back to thier homeland.  God freed the Israelites but sending plagues to the Egyptians, but He passed over the homes of the Israelites. After they were free,  He commanded them to remember the exodus from Egypt by celebrating Passover each year.

And they do.

On Monday night, in Jewish homes around the world they will gather and retell the story of freedom. And they remember that God is able to free is from those things that enslave us today. 

I've read some amazing Hagadahs. Beautiful liturgies that celebrate the freedom God offers. Times that I have been invited to the table have filled my heart with hope.  And so my heart lifts up those who are running around this weekend to prepare.  May this blessed meal remind you of who you are and who leads you into freedom.

Day 37: Far from home

After a long day,  I curled up on the couch to watch American Tail with Eddie. It's interesting to watch movies from childhood as an adult. Fievel was a Jewish mouse escaping Russia to the hope and promise of new life in America. As I watched,  I couldn't help but reflecton the experience of the immigrant. Why do people leave everything behind to search for a new life? For riches,  for freedom, to offer something better to their children? Is it love?

Life as an immigrant is marked with letting go and holding on, vivid uncertainty and intentional hope. The story of faith may be best told through the perspective of an immigrant.  From the exit out of Eden,  we have been looking for home.  Abraham was called into faith through his feet.  To pick up from a nice settled life and go.  No destination.  No planning.  Just go. Generation after generation that followed continued to cross the wilderness with the same hope and faith that guided their forefathers.

We are nearing Passover which captures the heart of this human journey to hope.  God offers freedom.  We respond with courage to leave what we know to embrace our faith,  our freedom and our hope.  God rains down bread for the journey. The story is one of trust and redemption.  Freedom to embrace hope. Take the shackles off my feet,  so I can dance.

It sounds good,  but it is hard to leave the life we know for the promise of something better. Even when the life we know isn't all that great.  It is scary to guess what dangers may lie on the open road or worry that we might lack nourishment. We want life to be safe and easy.

This country was built by immigrants.  And still is.  We are surrounded by people who were brave enough to hope for a better future.  They let go of the familiar to embrace courage to venture into the unknown. My own story is born from past generations of immigrants and entrepreneurs.  I'm feeling emboldened by their spirit that I can venture into the wild spaces of my life to unknown destinations. I can carry hope like a candle to light up those dark places in my world. By faith,  I trust God will join me on the path ahead.  

Day 36: New life

I'm in a season where I know that life is evolving. Kids are growing into new phases. Company is growing into a new phase. And I am listening to hear what my call might be in this new season.

Lent has been an invitation to set down my struggle and my preconceived notions about what I am supposed to do and be and simply listen.  An invitation to allow my heart to be carved and shaped into the next form filled with new passion to ignite love into action.

It's been hard to calm myself and make space for a new season. I had gotten into a groove. I knew what my kids needed and what my business needed  and I juggled those things.  I wasn't perfect and it was a huge sacrifice but I  knew what battles I was fighting. I was confident about the ground I stood on.

As life has evolved, I find myself in new territory. It's harder to know where and how to focus my energy. I can feel transition happening but I can't nail it down.  So quieting the "doer" to listen to my life and to feel the spirit blow in and around me, is a discipline that is more easily said than done most of the time. But it is reconnecting me with the deepest reasons for why I do what I do. It's testing my faith to trust who I am meant to become tomorrow by letting go of who I am today.

"Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life."

Letting go of who you are to be transformed is terrifying.  You can't control the process or the outcome.  You might fail.  People might not respect you.  People might reject the new person you are becoming.  For me,  there is uncertainty in how my roles both professional and as mother will evolve. Given my already tender heart on the subject opening myself to change exposes all my vulnerability. But I must. 

So I will come to the cross and lay down what I know, to pick up new direction for focusing The energy of my heart.  The seasons of Easter and Pentecost often bring an awakening of my soul after the silent discipline of lent. I look forward to seeing new vision take shape in my life.

Day 35: Preparing for a journey to the cross

Grief. Days. Weeks. Months.  Endless.  An ocean on all sides. Waves of self dialog toss you about. Anger. Negotiation.  What if.  Why.  What for?

Grief finds us for many reasons.  Death,  particularly sudden death may be the grief we are most familiar with.  Any major loss or change can bring on a form of grief.  Losing your job,  your hair, a relationship,  a dream of what you could have been, a piece of who you are. We grapple with the unknown and mourn the brokenness.... and when you are in it the sea looks vast with no sign of land.

But grief doesn't have to have the final word.  Good Friday is perhaps the darkest day of the year. It is a day of grief.  Light died.  The world was dark and there was no end to the darkness. A painfully bright light pierced the darkness of eternal grief creating space for hope.

As Holy Week comes we have an opportunity to search our hearts for the broken pieces.  To embrace the endless sea of grief for those who have left us,  for broken dreams and broken relationships, for the pieces of us that have died inside. Gather it up and journey to the cross where the darkness is overpowering and no hurt is exempt. No pain too large. Set it there at the foot of the cross.

"It is finished"

A redemption larger than we can grasp.  Words that calm the hurricane of our grief. The stillness that follows... numbing.

We wait in the stillness,  the darkness.

Early morning Easter comes with a new light,  an undefeatable hope.

May your journey to the cross and beyond be a source of healing for you as it is for me.  Slowly and painfully,  I search my heart for all the things I need to set down at the cross and prayerfully ask for the grace to enter into the promise that lies there.

Day 34: what's next... haven't a clue

I wee talking with my little brother about next steps in his career.  He is thinking about going back to school and trying to figure out how to figure out his next step. "Knock on lots of doors. " I tell him.  "You never know what will open up."

Like me he is lead by passion and good at lots of things.  He's using his head and his heart to try to think about the long game. It's a good exercise,  but life doesn't give you the long game.  It's a mystery.  I didn't set out to build a sperm company.  It came to me.  So did motherhood,  graduate school,  Haiti... in fact every major thing I've done in my life had found me rather than the other way around.

I listened to him.  I heard myself 10 years ago. I wanted the right path to optimize the change I could make in the world.  i still wonder where God is leading me.  I've made so many left turns that I can't really remember how I got here or where  headed next.  Part of my goal for this lent was to step back and reconsider where God is calling me to direct my energy right now and moving forward.  To stop and listen and feel to see if I can sense the spirit moving in or around me.

It's an eery calm. I don't feel the wind anywhere but I did feel like I've been blown apart.  I guess that's lent. Rounding the corner to holy week. It gets real before Easter and I ask myself.  "What has to die before Easter can come? "

Easter is the promise of new life. New hope.  Easter is a holy mystery that I wrestle with and cling to.  But Easter resides on the far side of holy week.  The passion. Suffering.  Betrayal. Death. Why does Gods promise lie past such things. Because nothing is too far from God to redeem. 

Day 33: The human heart is fragile

Today,  a small comment hurt my feelings. And so,  I've been reflecting on the condition of the human heart.

Our hearts are fragile,  so we built up defenses. As children entering the social world we experience rejection. The first crush that doesn't reciprocate,  kids that tease us, bullies,  teachers.  We discover the parts of ourselves that the world doesn't accept and we become sensitive and vulnerable.

With time,  we either bury, defeat or accept those parts of us that imperfect.  For a long time,  my challenge was body image.  I remember hating so much of my body.  Comments about how I looked sent me heart down a path of tenderness as they turned over and over in my head.  I wrestled hard with my health and my body.  I lost weight. I grew strong. 

I remember clearly the first time I looked at myself and was proud of who I was.  Now,  I still wrestle with weight and my body (4 kids does that) but I know what I can be and that weight doesn't define who I am,  it's a reflection of life. Because of that,  I have a much thicker skin about my body. Random comments from children about stretch marks or tummy rolls don't bother me.  I am honest with myself about where I am and can let comments roll off my back (more or less).

However,  I realized in my reflection today that I am not secure with my ability to balance motherhood and work.  Particularly my inability to be what I know I can be at work. I've always been an overachiever did this is hard for me. Whenever I've missed on performance I've buckled down and worked harder. You climb mountains by putting one foot in front of the other.   

For the last several years I've taken a lot of heat and made a lot of sacrifices to be a working mom. I've had to calculate who to disappoint to keep my kids in the right place on my list of priorities. I've had to swallow days where I've fed my kids fast food and throw them in front of a screen so I could get work done.  I've had to miss opportunities to "lean in" or "get myself out there" and therefore don't get recognition for my contributions.  I've learned how to prioritize only the most important things in each sphere and let go of things that matter less. Sometimes that means sowing up to a meeting completely unprepared or missing an important email in your inbox out not responding to Mr important with enough care or not doing enough homework on a subject and looking like an asshole. These types of things leave me wide open for criticism. I can't do it all and it shows.

All this calculated, sub optimal work has made me entirely vulnerable. I know so many things that I've done poorly or left undone that I can't help but feel bad about it. It feels like being fat, and even small comments go straight to the tender part of my heart and sting. 

My kids are young.  They need me.  I don't sleep many nights. I know I'm not going to be as good at work right now as I will be someday when mothering requires as much of my heart but much less of my body and time. But it doesn't make it any easier to let go of my hurt feelings about it.

God knows our vulnerabilities and is able to use our weaknesses. The entire history of judaio Christian faith is built on fundamentally flawed characters.   Abraham,  the father of faith,  afraid to speak truth.  Moses,  God's chosen to deliver freedom,  was an outcast and couldn't speak to crowds.   David, God's beloved,  had terrible affairs. Peter,  the rock of the early church,  deserted Jesus in his darkest moment.

I wish I could just suck it up and stop being so damn vulnerable.  But I rest hopeful that maybe my vulnerability and weakness is useful to God. My inability to be everything I want to be creates an opportunity for grace in my life, a dependence that God will fill the gap and use my life dispite or even because of my limitations.

Day 32: Finding Sabboth

And on the seventh day,  God rested.

Sabboth is an important gift. Stopping, resting,  renewing. We need Sabboth.

The last few years I've had to jump from one thing to the next with very little space for holy rest.  It's the season of life that I'm in. 

I've found creative ways to make that space.  Trips to the beach, giving the kids hoses and letting them run free in the backyard,  taking a jog after preschool drop off. But the past couple days,  God has called me to a deeper rest. Traveling away from the children, my intention was to work like crazy. But my purpose of coning here was to connect.  Connecting with humans is not something you can cram into minutes and seconds or check off a list. It comes from creating space to be present.

So I've given myself permission to be present.... and Sabboth finds me.  A woman invited me to yoga out if the blue. I shared drinks with folks well into the night. I learned things... and I find myself with new energy.

Sometimes when you are busy,  you really need rest.  It allows you to reconnect with who you are and where you are going. Thanks, God,  for helping me find Sabboth.