Easter Vigil: somewhere between the cross and the resurrection

Today was oddly,  perfectly an Easter vigil.

We were planning to hold a garage sale next weekend.  But forecast called for rain,  so last minute wee decided to do it today.

I dragged out thing after thing.  Our last tenents had left so much that I couldn't actually see what was all there until we pulled it out. 

The day was warm and pleasant. A trickle of people came by.  Friends showed up randomly. Ulrichs brother, wife and two kids hung out.  It felt a little like those times after a loved one dies when you don't have a lot going on and people come by and just hang out.

My homeless friend came by. She needed to charge her cell phone.  I can't save her from her demons,  but i can give her a break.  She sat in the shade and colored a picture for me while listening to gospel music and crying out to Jesus.

The house was a disaster.  Everything looked like out had been blown up.  We were all exhausted from the week,  so we just hung out.... And waited for people to show up.

I smiled to myself and tossed up a prayer of gratitude.   God had spent the day with me. We had held vigil together. This holy day was perfectly odd and blown apart.

And God was in it. 

Good Friday: It is finished

"...and by his bruises we are healed."

It reads like the CNN reel of a highly charged,  political story unfolding.  Strong, angry voices on both sides.  Cameras rolling.  Helicopters on scene.  Reporters breaking the latest.  Live tweets by some of pilots close aides. Facebook a long steam of confused heartache...

The world stood helpless to stop it. Glued to the screen for each new detail.  Unable to turn away.  Unable to stop it.  Unable to make any sense of it. 

What is this?
How do we make sense of it?
What side are we supposed to take?
How does this change things?
Are we all in danger?

There was an angry crowd of rioters,
A peace keeping force, 
Various political officials
Allegations
Findings
Testimonies
Actions
Beatings
There was lots of news 
... and silently, 
at the center of it, 
was Jesus. 

They wanted to make an example of him,  so they marched him through the streets dragging the cross behind him.  They made a sign.  This is Jesus,  King of the Jews.

Don't question our authority, 
you will end up on a cross.

He marched on in silence. Unfettered by the frenzy that surrounded him.  The scriptures engraved on his heart. They opened a window into a different view of the events that unfolded around him.

I imagine they were a source of strength. 

It is how it must be.

"All who see me
mock at me;
they make mouths at me,
they shake their heads...
I am poured out like water,
and all my bones
are out of joint;
my heart is like wax;
it is melted within my breast;
my mouth is dried up
like a potsherd,
and my tongue
sticks to my jaws;
you lay me
in the dust of death
...
...
...
All the ends of the earth
shall remember
and turn to the LORD;
and all the families
of the nations
shall worship before him.
For dominion
belongs to the LORD,
and he rules over the nations."

Jesus endured it all with the end in mind. 
His heart carried every word of scripture that he must now see through.  His mind steadfast....

It was the divine birth of a new covenant. The labor was intense but the new life,  the completeness that lie on the other side was the joy set before him.

His eyes were set firm
on the task at hand. 
To carry on. 
To finish. 
To fulfill the scripture.
He progressed
step by painful, unyielding step
until all was complete. 

And then...
he surrendered. 

It was finished.

Maundy Thursday: sharing a table

A thought experiment...

What if Jesus had been killed just following thanksgiving dinner?

Anyone who has lost a loved one during the holidays can tell you how incredibly hard it is to ever have "holidays" again.  It changes everything.  It deepens and sharpens the memory of that last dinner,  that last gathering. The familiar rituals become a reminder of last words and actions.

Passover is that kind of holiday.  It is a season that celebrates freedom and God's miracles. If I were a disciple I might expect Passover to be a time when Jesus pulled out some heavy miracles.

So evenyone gets on their ugly sweaters and shows up.  Jesus is acting wierd.  He comes out in sweats.  He seems to have something in his mind.  He sets to teaching.  Maybe it clued the disciples to pay attention,  like when Grandpa starts telling old stories and you get a pit in your stomach that he might not be there next year.

The disciples tune in.   It feels like this is important. They ask questions.  They savor the meal.  They try to follow what Jesus is saying but it all is so cryptic.

The night turns violent.  It becomes a night none of them will ever be able to shake off.  Tragedy and horror unfolds.  Jesus dies.  It all feels so senseless. Where is God in this?

They hide. The rug has been pulled from under thier feet. Life as they knew it,  the future they dreamed of,  was gone.

Or was it?

Jesus came back and breathed on them saying peace be with you. 

And then he was gone again.

The next year.  Passover came.  That terrible night came back,  clear as day.  The meal came back.  Jesus's words.  What were they? Reliving the meal,  his words etched into their hearts. They weren't as cryptic this time.  In hindsight,  they made more sense. The visceral memory of that last holiday meal forever changed Passover for that band of brothers,  but it also gave life to the teaching he had saved for that night. 

Soon,  they didn't wait for Passover to relive it.  Recreating that terrible holiday meal, enabled them to keep the words Jesus had shared with them alive. As hard as it was,  they needed to meet and remember.  They needed to be together. Especially as the world turned on them and persecuted them for continuing to do so. And so it became the heart of a new faith.

Today,  this time of year brings us into one story with our Jewish brothers and sisters. 

Passover begins tomorrow and around the world Jewish homes will be filled with amazing food,  songs and a retelling of the faith.  Each family has their own liturgy for the meal.  It is a celebration of the freedom that God provides in a broken world and the hope that God will come and fulfill his promises.

Easter will rise with the sun on Sunday morning and Christians will dress in Sunday finest and sing of the freedom that God provides in a broken world and hear sermons with hope that God will come and fulfill his promises.

For me,  the promise breathed in every last detail of this meal is that God is with us.  In darkness. In light.   In broken holidays. In warm family gatherings.  In bread.  In wine. In bitter herbs. In sweet honey.   In the ordinary and the extraordinary. 

Shalom. Peace be with you. 

Spy Wednesday: learn something new every day

Today is called Spy Wednesday.  I just learned this. It is the day where holy week turns dark.

From Wikipedia:

"The New Testament account of Holy Week, after Palm Sunday, the Sanhedrin gathered and plotted to kill Jesus before the feast of Pesach. On the Wednesday before his death, Jesus was in Bethany, in the house of Simon the Leper. As he sat at the supper table with his disciples, a woman named Mary anointed Jesus' head and feet with a costly oil of spikenard. The disciples were indignant, asking why the oil was not instead sold and the money given to the poor. But Judas Iscariot wanted to keep the money for himself. Then Judas went to the Sanhedrin and offered to deliver Jesus to them in exchange for money. From this moment on, Judas sought an opportunity to betray Jesus."

Spy Wednesday remembers Judas and the betrayal. 

The old testament reading for today gets me:

 "I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard; I did not hide my face from insult and spitting. The Lord GOD helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame."

"...I have set my face like flint... "

Badass.

The new testament verse:

"...and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame..."

Beyond the suffering and disgrace,  Jesus saw Joy and so he set his face like a flint and soldiered on.

His friends threw him under the bus, 
He soldiered on.

They dragged him into court and trashed his name.
He soldiered on.

They found him guilty of a crime he didn't commit and gave him a death sentence.
He soldiered on.

They nailed him to a tree and as he hung, suffering,  ridiculed by everyone around him.
He forgave...

And then he let go.

Today is the day that Jesus said game on.  He set his face to flint and he followed the race set out for him.

Holy Tuesday: Re-wiring my instincts

Quick snips from the readings for today...

But I said, "I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity; yet surely my cause is with the LORD, and my reward with my God."

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are.

I came home from work eager to take care of sick kids that I hated leaving behind in the morning.  But as i settled into the couch,  thoughts stirred in my mind. 

The seed doesn't bear fruit unless it dies.  But,  the thing about the threat of death,  it triggers a fight or flight response.  It is our instinct to fight against those things that threaten us or to escape them.  To run away and not turn back. 

Jesus stood there.  He didn't run.  He didn't fight.  He submitted his will.  He re- wired his instinct.  He taught us how to follow.

1,000s of nameless heroes have done the same. To resist Nazis. To resist segregation.  To resist darkness.

My struggle to be humble pales in comparison.  And yet I can feel some of the same basic instincts kicking in.  As I tell myself to choose a way of humility,  my pride kicks up and I can feel my ego flailing. My mind floods with thoughts.  thoughts to fight,  stand my ground,  assert my pride.  Thoughts to run away,  escape and save my self dignity. I have to recognize these thoughts as instinct and then find a way to disarm them.

I go for a walk.
The sunshine should quiet them.
I love on the kids.
Love should quiet them.
I then on music.
I replace words with new words.
I seek gratitude.
I reflect on the readings.

The thoughts dissipate.

I'm no where near as strong as Jesus or the 1000s of others who quieted the inner impulse to save themselves. But I've exercised the same muscles....

I don't always fully grasp how a dead thing bears fruit,  how a low thing can humble a strong one, how God chooses to act through sacrifice rather than force.  It is dissonant with the human experience  where the strong get rich and the powerful are in charge.

Holy week amplifies the dissonance.

Easter resolves it.

Holy Monday: Can I take your place?

In some churches,  holy Monday reflects on the anointing of Jesus feet...

Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair.

I came home from work.  Andrew had stayed home from school sick. So after hugging all the others,  I slipped into his room to check on him. He was miserable.  I could see in his eyes that terrible kind of sick that you can only just wait through.  Nothing helps.  You just suffer.

I asked him if there was anything i could do.  He said no. I asked him if i could get him a drink.  He said he was afraid.  He has thrown up several times and hadnt kept anything down.  Ulrich set to making oral rehydration fluid.  I told Andrew that daddy could use science to make a drink that he wouldn't throw up.  He perked up a little.  He was dehydrated and wanted to drink but was afraid.

Millileter by millileter, I got fluid into him.  He kept it down. He went to bed.

All while I cared from him, I thought how miserable it would be to be that sick and how i would take his place in an instant.

I thought of other moms i know with love fiercer than bullets.  Special needs moms who go to the mat every day to help thier child gain an inch of developmental ground. Who get calls day after day from the school principle, who try therapy after therapy refusing to give up.  Loving harder into every storm. A mom whose heart is so big that on top of her own brood,  she opens her heart and home to a large number of foster kids. She fights for them.  She loves with the ferocity of a Bangal tiger. She dances through days of swimming lessons and social workers with the grace of a  A mom whose son goes in and out of hospice with difficulties breathing... She breathes with him. She celebrates his beauty and shares him with the rest of us... and we are better for it.

I could go on.

Love propels us to do these things.  Without thought or reasoning.  Without a flinch or hesitation.

Love compelled Mary to wipe Jesus's feet with perfume and her own tears. Love compelled Jesus to ride on into Jerusalem.  Love compelled him to tary on under the crushing weight of the tree that would kill him. Love does this.

God loves like this.

Lent Day 39: the thin line between stewardship and slavery

I spent a good portion of my day trying to make progress on cleaning out the part of my house that is designated as the garage.  Most garages have some amount of accumulated stuff that needs to be sorted and processed.  Mine is a little out of control.

Over the past year,  we had a few tenets who were hoarders.  They moved out of the 250sq ft studio with an oversized moving van. Suitable for perhaps a 3 bedroom house.  They left behind roughly an equal amount, and in breaks of the weather I've been slowly going through to find tools that we've needed, throw away garbage and organize the salvageable stuff to be given or hauled away.

Jesus said you cannot serve two masters.  You love one and hate the other.  I used to think that materialism only looked like a wasteful consumerism.  Buying this year's trendy boots when last year's boots are still barely broken in. But watching this couple struggle with stuff made me realize that there are other forms of materialism.

I think the main motives for getting things were good.  They often found things for free or cheap.  They were thrifty and able to fix things. Most of the stuff they had was really nice and they kept things in relatively good order.  But it killed them.

The accumulation of stuff, I believe wss out of fear.  They were broke.  What if they needed something? They couldn't afford it.. so,  just in case,  they were prepared.

There is a fine line between stewardship, carrying for resources entrusted to you and and allowing things to become a source of control.

Give us this day our daily bread.

This is a hard prayer to own.  We'd most definitely prefer today's, tomorrow's and next week's bread if possible.  We can store up items or cash or insurance policies as a means to take control over our lives. But then,  we get bogged down managing it all.  Organizing our finances,  cleaning out sheds... building bigger barns. And our time, the scarcest of all our resources becomes enslaved by things because we are afraid of what might be.

I struggle with this.  Where is the line? Being a good stewart of my resources,  the earth,  my talents and hoarding them up in a feeble attempt to take more control over my life. Can I really accept that God will provide daily? And what if God doesn't provide? These aren't easy questions. 

And so, while I clean out spaces overflowing with extra stuff,  I'll meditate on this.

Lent Day 38: just do nothing

Ulrich and I were driving back from our weekly life planning date where we smash a couple of burgers and lay out logistics for our life. I always hope that we will fall into a deep conversation about what more we can be doing to live out our call... But many weeks,  keeping the trains on schedule is as good as I can hope for.

On the drive back,  I asked "what do you feel is the current biggest pain point in our life right now?"

He thought for a moment,  "Not enough time to do everything at work and home and rest."

"Where would you want to carve out more time?"

I thought about the long task list wee had just brainstormed.  It would be fun to knock some things off this weekend. I thought through how to plan out the evening and Sunday.  I wasn't feeling well and Andrew was also a bit under the weather.

"Let's just do nothing."

There are times and places when doing nothing is exactly what we should be doing. Snuggling sick kids on the couch,  being in love,  waiting for a door to open or close. 

Faith is sometimes a call to let go
of tomorrow
Of control
Of busyness
Of everything

And just wait on God.

Tomorrow is the start of holy week.  May out be a blessing to you.

Lent Day 37: A breath of spring

I sat in the backyard and split a pint of halo top with miles. The sun was shining.  There were moments when it felt like spring.  Then a breeze came and chilled us both.  Not quite...

The weather report shows one more storm this weekend and then a warm front.  High 60s to mid 70s and sun sailing into Easter.

I can't remember too many Easter mornings when the sun wasn't shining... it's almost like the rainbow.  Those perfect spring days a glimpse to the other side of heaven. They fill my heart with inexplicable joy. Maybe it's my Midwestern roots... spring is a big damn deal after the eternity of winter. There's something about sunshine on my face and if possible green things growing around me or the ocean or dirt in my hands... and I feel peace.

When Elijah stood on the mountain,  God was not in the wind or an earthquake or a fire,  but in a gentle whisper.  I would venture to bet,  somewhere on those perfect spring days,  God is there too.

Lent Day 36: God can sing show tunes

I was driving the usual routes after school and listening to the Moana soundtrack this afternoon... and I smiled because inevitably one song or another speaks to the situation of the day.

Last summer,  when Moana hit Netflix,  I watched it almost every day with the kids.   One of Moana's lines that gets repeated through out the movie is

"The ocean chose me."

Moana's relationship with the ocean reminds me of my relationship with God on many levels. There are moments when the ocean clearly speaks. But when Moana seeks the ocean's help, it is often silent. And yet,  for the entire film,  Moana is sailing through the ocean.  It surrounds her.  It carries her on her journey.  It pushes her beyond her comfort zone.  It demands that she grow and learn humility and self sacrifice.  It continually calls her on.

"The Ocean chose you?"
People laugh in disbelief. 
That stuff isn't real. 

God is my ocean.

And so,  I listen to the sound track with the kids. 

God whispers to me in between the lyrics of the songs.

Boat songs.
Journey songs. 
Faith songs.

Sail on. Sail on. I am your ocean.

Lent Day 35: Warm feet

I just got pair of warm,  snuggly boots. It was my first day wearing them.

As I  walked to Andrews school in the morning,  I noticed how content I was walking in the crappy weather.  I realized..  my feet are warm.

My feet seem to have a disproportionate influence on my overall comfort.  Dry feet,  cold feet... God forbid an ingrown toe nail. 

When I put on new tennis shoes,  I feel like I could run 10 miles. When I put on heels,  I feel miles taller.  When I put on work shoes,  I feel determined.

They are just feet.  I don't pay them any attention unless I'm putting on shoes or they are causing me grief.... and even then,  I try to ignore them,  even as they scream at me.

Faith has a lot in common with feet.  Often ignored,  except for Sunday's or holidays... Or if there is a crisis.  And yet,  it has a large influence over the current of my life.  If faith is strong,  I can weather anything.  I have great patience.  Forgiveness.  I become more then I am. I tap into grace and I find myself in a bigger story....

But then,  there are times when faith is weak.  I feel lost.  Even when life is good,  I am restless. I'm missing something.  I'm not plugged in to the life blood that sustains me and I struggle.

Spiritual practices are like a pair of great shoes.  I put them on, then I  go about my day.  But,  if I were to reflect on it,  as I do this season of lent, I find I'm happier.  Even in crappy weather. I don't struggle against life quite so hard. 

My feet are toasty.  I'm good.

Lent Day 34: Taking off the training wheels

We gather monthly to discuss progress.  She pulls out her tablet to show me various graphs as we work through our Q1 goals.  We are right on target and may hit our upside projections. I bring up concerns I have and the three of us put our best thinking to the job.  Can we test our ideas? Read back the notes and make sure we captured all action items.  The 3 of us walk away feeling good about our plan.

It takes an organization to raise my kids.

If you don't know what ABA is,  here's a quick primer.

ABA is an intense 1-on-1 therapy used commonly to help kids on the autism spectrum.  It is most effective with small kids and has been shown,  when done well,  to have an amazing impact on the development of some kids. It changed Philip's life.

But....ABA works because it is intense.  There are 3 people assigned to every child to assess their development, build a custom program to support their growth then implement the plan with something around 20 hours of active therapy weekly with additional parent training and support. 

For nearly two years,  Philip has had his own monthly staff meeting. His team is brilliant and creative.  Loving and professional.  They bring thier A game.

As a parent,  this is really intimidating at first. People are in your house,  watching how you parent for hours at a time. When they are that good... you feel a ton of pressure to be that good as well. But,  with time,  you form a relationship.  They get to know your parenting style,  your kid's personally,  the challenges in your home ... and suddenly they are a partner.  Some one to bring all your questions and concerns...a wealth of resources.

My kid won't sleep
My kid won't eat
My kid just ran down the street naked
I have no idea what the H to do...

They always have ideas.  If idea 1, 2 or 3 don't work,  they show up.  They analyze the situation. And... magic... They fix it.  It takes a lot of work,  but with time,  you take ground and celebrate small victories.

At today's meeting, I heard these words..."We are going to recommend that we start fading services. Philip is doing great. By the end of the year,  I think he will fully graduate from therapy. "

It's everything I've wanted to hear for him,  and yet,  it's a little scary.  Can I raise this kid and give him everything he needs without an army of brilliant developmental specialists? What will I do if he suddenly develops some super strange issue that I have no idea how to tackle... what then?

I remember the first time I rode my bike without training wheels.  My aunt ran along side me on her country road.  Suddenly, i spyied a truck way in the distance.  I panicked.  I fell in the ditch.

Faith is getting on the bike.  Falling and doing it again. Knowing that God goes with you wherever the road leads.

I could call it chance that a woman a church casually mentioned the early start programs available though our county just as I was starting to worry about Philip's delayed speech.  Or good luck that we were assigned to such a brilliant team of professionals who were able to help him achieve 12 months of developmental growth in 5. It might be chance that Philip's therapy started just as I brought newborn baby Miles home from the hospital.

I close my eyes and look back.  I see a single set of footprints in the sand.

I look forward to the mountains ahead and say,  "Bring it.  Take those training wheels off. I'm not doing this alone.  There are some big hands that will catch me when I fall. "

Lent Day 33: A grain of wheat

Andrew and i have been working together on a long project to landscape the front yard.  He has a special place in his heart for plants.... and hard work. He has diligently worked to prepare the soil, plant and weed the garden.

Sunday afternoon we worked on weeding.  As I struggled against the giant clumps of grass,  Andrew gathered them up and threw them in the green waste.

Suddenly,  he stopped. 

"Mom, I found a grain of wheat. We need to plant it.  When we do, it will die and sprout up a new plant that will bear much fruit. "

"Did you hear that at church?" I asked, remembering the sermon.

"Yep....

Eddie,  your pumpkin passed away...

But look,  there are pumpkin plants growing. "

In one breathe he summarized the journey of life and faith. 

Spring is but a few breaths away and dead seeds lying still under ground will find life in the warmth of fresh sunshine. All is still and dark.  Death seems to have the last word....

But then,  Easter.

We're almost there.

Lent Day 32: Left out

Church was packed.  Our usual pew was full.  We found a new seat,  front and center.  The alter was decorated was a row of chalasis. After the sermon, the pastor called up children for first communion. About 10 kids, Eddie's age,  came up with their families.

Did I miss a memo?

I felt like a horrible parent.  Were they preparing this during Sunday school? For the rest of the service I was distracted,  trying to process my thoughts on the matter. Should I be more invested in Sunday school?

Our focus for spiritual development for the kids has focused on introducing them to the service. The hymns,  the readings, the sermon, the liturgy.  Eddie and Andrew have really started to grasp the heart of faith.

I felt a little hurt.  Why hadn't anyone told us about this? I asked one of the moms who's kid had participated how she found out about it.  She said there had been a series of emails for the past few months. I decided to ask why I hadn't been included.  It took a little bit of courage.  I didn't want to rock the boat.  I didn't want to make anyone feel bad.

I took a deep breath.  "I didn't know this was happening." She looked back at me with tears starting to well up.  She hugged me.  "It was a miscommunication.  I'm sorry. "

I forgave.  Deeply I forgave.

The church is a band of broken people trying to find God.  Trying to be light.  Sometimes they nail it.  Sometimes they don't.

A lot of people carry scars from a bad run in with the church.  Exclusion. The feeling that the church is a place for all of us,  or should be,  creates a high expectation that ultimately a band of broken people can't live up to.

I've had my share of bad experiences.  Churches that have asked me to leave.  Churches where I felt out of place. Churches that I felt placed priority on the wrong things.  Churches that I've thought,  "Jesus might have a hard time here. "

That's just reality of broken people gathering together to try to live out faith.  Sometimes they fail at it.

In the wake of a hurt at church,  our instinct is to run away. To leave that church or maybe all churches. To practice faith on our own,  in a safe place.  Good calls us to build up the church.  To take any uncomfortable step forward and amend the wrong.  To forgive and to heal.

I felt bad today,  but maybe my experience can add to a conversation that lifts the church up. It takes courage, humility, forgiveness and wisdom to do it.  But God never said faith was easy.

Lent Day 31: Immense gratitude

We've been reading a series of books on character. Each of them have included several biographies as a way to explore that personality and driving motivations of different people from a range of historical eras.

What has stuck with me over the past few days is how incredibly dark so much of our history is.  We still struggle with darkness.  Mass shooting, addiction,  domestic violence... but so much of human history is really really dark.  Genocide, slavery, war.  persecution and revolutions.  People lived their lives and raised thier children in these dark places and periods. Many of them rose up to face the darkness with courage. Many of them died doing that.

I think of the demands on my life and the courage that is asked of me and I am shamed to think that I ever complain about the state of things.  My children are safe and fed.  There is a roof over our head and I don't worry that someone will come in the night to raid our home.  We come and go as we please. We don't worry that someone will harm us because of our race or religion. We have access to school and books and information. Our life is comfortable.  I take that for granted most days.

It is a gift.  I am fortunate.
Today I feel a deep gratitude for all the ordinary blessings that overflow in life.

Lent Day 30: what am I worth? Let's Google it...

How do we assign value to a person's work?

I've been reflecting today on the concept of compensation and personal value. We expect doctors will have high pay. Presumably for the many years of medical school. The student loans.  The difficulty and stress of the job. But social workers are also highly educated,  work in stressful care giving jobs.  They intervene in crisis and they save people's lives. But they are notoriously underpaid.

Engineers are well paid. 
Biologists are less well paid.
Sales is well paid. 
Customer service,  less well paid.

It is tempting to define our self worth by our job.  We can actually go online, type in our profession and years of experience and get a rough estimate of what we are "worth." It can instill pride... "I deserve..." It can deflate ... "I'm just a... that's not a big deal. "

Placing work at the center of our identity amplifies these messages of who we are and what we are worth and diminishes the inherent value of who we are as human beings and the value of the gifts we offer the world outside of work.

I struggle with this as a working mom.  I am tempted to prioritize professional activities over motherhood,  often because it feels like my social value lies there. I'm also tempted to undervalue the never ending pile of work that awaits me when I get home. My A game at work.  My B game at home.

But,  the work that I do at home is more likely to have a lasting mark on the world as I equip four young boys to become men.

On the flip side,  I work hard to carve out space for my boys and balance my professional demands.  I choose at times to not spend the extra energy to advance my career.  There are times when this really stings.  When I know I could do better if I hadn't devoted the energy to motherhood. 

I've often responded to this internal pressure by just not sleeping. So many women live on so little sleep during this phase. Cheerleaders on the sidelines shout "You can have it all. You can be everything. You can be proud and valuable. " But I'm just exhausted and I just want to feel like I've done a good job at something.

I want to quiet those voices.  They make me feel inadequate.  They shame other women.  Those who choose to stay home and devote themselves to the thankless job of motherhood.  Those who pour their heart into a vocation that is under paid and under appreciated. Those who pass up family for a calling that is deeper than the  financial value the world places on it.

In the silent embrace of grace,  the spirit finally silences the worries of my heart.

You are more than your work.
More than the titles assigned to you.
Mote than the station and season of life that you are in.
More than the paycheck you earn.
More than the list of accomplishments that you've checked off in your planner.

Receive grace and allow the gift well up inside you. Then wake up new tomorrow and bring your light into the world.

Lent Day 29: A new journey for Miles

"You're a boy mom. Look at you. Sitting on the floor while he's been flipping and jumping on you like a trampoline... and you are completely unphased."

It was a small clinical office where I had taken Miles for a developmental evaluation. Like Philip before him, I watched his first birthday pass with no words. As each month has gone by I've stepped up my efforts to see that first word appear. And finally, at 18 months, I hit the alarm bell.

Early intervention for Philip was the best choice I've made as a mother. At 2 years old, he had an 18 month delay. At 3, he had no delay.

As a mother, you carry guilt. Guilt that you should do more for your children. And when there is a problem, that guilt multiplies. Early intervention can feel like an admission of defeat. I failed and I need help to get my kid where he should be.

But it isn't failure. It requires a healthy dose of humility, to accept the help of other people to come along side you and help you better understand your child. But it can transform their lives and them things you just can't.

Accepting help is as much a part of our spiritual journey as giving it. Recognizing our limitations. Owning our brokenness. Empowering someone else to share their light.

The phychologist who evaluated Miles has seen 100s of little guys come though her door. She had the calm of a saint and the deep recognition that each child is a snowflake with their own unique strengths and challenges. She raised a child on the spectrum. She knows what it's like to sit on that side of the table.

"You're a boy mom... and that is exactly what you were meant to be. Your boys were meant for you. Your sweeping gestures, your big expressions, your lively tone. You are exactly what they need.  You are the exact right mom for your little guys. He's got a lot of spunk and he got that from you."

I closed my eyes and took in her words.

Sometimes God shows up in unexpected places with just the right measure of grace.

Lent Day 28: Unexpected reflections on a trip to Safeway

I was just planning to pick up a few groceries.  I wasn't in a rush and didn't have a list so I strolled the aisles. Food marketing is one of my nerdy pastimes.  There's usually a few different categories at any given time that have a hot innovation followed by a 6-12 month frenzy among competitors or other new entrants. 

A recent hot item in food has been healthy, pint sized,  low calorie ice cream.  A new brand called halo top paved the way for a new category and over the last year many new entrants in the category have taken to the shelf,  at the expense of traditional half gallons.

So as I strolled the aisles of Safeway,  I checked all the current hot areas of food innovation and grabbed stuff I needed.

By the end of shopping, I began to feel a little overwhelmed. Sad and unfulfilled. Judged. And yet,  hopeful and inspired. It's an odd combination of experiencing many artificial emotions all at once with a mental exhaustion from being exposed to too many messages and decisions.  It's the same feeling I get when I spend too much time at Costco or Target, or heaven forbid I go to the mall or the outlets.

The bombardment of messages,  subtle but powerful claims on my self hood asserting that I am not good enough, that life is dangerous,  that the world is depending on me to save if.  Calories printed largely to remind me that I need to track them even before I purchase them.  Pictures of well cooked meals with interesting ingredients,  because I need to be healthy and interesting and trendy. Environmental messaging that reminds me we are destroying the planet. Organic,  crunchy children's food to frighten me that I might be ruining my kids health for the rest of their life. I can't live up to the perfect mom, woman, human that these messages push me to self visualize.  And so,  guilt. I fail at life... And all I had planned to do was get some milk and flour.

Marketers prey on two primal human drivers fear and self-centeredness. By pulling these levers, they can get us to do anything. They know us,  they know our desires and our insecurities.  They know us,  probably better than we know ourselves. And they talk constantly in the design of the spaces we visit, through the objects we own or encounter,  and in every space that is up for bids including sometimes bathroom stall doors.

I bring this up as part of lent because today, I felt an overwhelm from all the marketing that pushed in direct opposition to the messages of faith.

Where faith says sacrifice,  marketing says "you deserve it"

Where Faith says "trust God with your life" marketing says "Take control of your destiny. "

Where Faith says "be content with what you have" marketing says "more is better"

Marketing isn't lying exactly, most of these messages in isolation are good.  We should be healthy and environmentally conscious and the like... but marketing puts us in a specific emotional state designed to create the impulse to purchase. It creates an anxiety or crisis within us that is only quieted by a decision to acquire some object or service.  Sometimes we need that motivation.  But,  I think these days, marketing is so pervasive that we never unplug from it.  So we always carry a small, subconscious crisis that can wear on our heart and drown out the small,  but affirming voice of God.

I am whole and I am enough,  even if I didn't have kale infused quinoa chips for lunch.

Lent Day 27: power in weakness

I've been reading an interesting book by Malcolm Gladwell called David and Goliath which posits that weakness can actually be a material advantage. It's been a thought provoking read.  How do you turn the world on its head and see fantastic disadvantages as opportunities?

Lack of physical ability turned into an advantage in basketball
Small size an advantage in a fight
Dyslexia an advantage for education
Lack of empathy strengthen the ability to provide care

It seems paradoxical... But the bible makes this point a lot.  Most of the people held up as "heroes" in both the old and new testament had significant weaknesses or sordid pasts. Moses, David, Mary, Peter, Paul...they all had issues.  They all followed God anyways.

Jesus holds up traits that might be considered as weaknesses in the beaitudes as blessed. Blessed are the meek, the poor in spirit, and those who mourn. Not a group I would expect to be first in line for a promotion.  

One of the best summaries of the biblical view of weakness is in 2 Corinthians:

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 

Some combination of grace and faith can transform our weaknesses into tools of light.

As I've been pondering this,  I've wondered in what ways could God exploit my weaknesses and use them. I'm not sure, but I think time in the wilderness is a good place to open myself to such a possibility. Maybe there's more that God can do with me beyond my obvious passions, strengths or abilities.  Maybe there is, hidden in my weakness, a space for God to work in and through me.

Maybe...

Lent Day 26: Beyond my reach, but not beyond God's

I've loved her for years. I've stood by her blow after blow.  For her,  I've been a lighthouse,  a small light to search out in the darkness.

I got a call the other day. It was bad news.

For some, addiction is a terminal illness.  With ups and downs.  With heartache. With hope.  With small victories and moments of beautiful clarity.  Then,  the disease comes and ravages on. Darkness darker than dark. And even the lighthouse is helpless against the storm.

She's taught me more about the heart of God then perhaps anyone I know.  She taught me grace.  She opened my eyes to the meaning in the parables. She challenged my faith.

God loves her fiercely.
Through her, 
God taught me what love truly looks like.

She calls me mom.
I call her baby.

Right now,  she is beyond my reach.  But she is not beyond God's love.

Lent Day 25: So happy

It is pretty common for our family to spend Saturday or Sunday afternoon ast the beach in alameda.  The boys can run,  play in the sand, splash in the water. We first started it a regular outing when Andrew was little and in great need of the sensory stimulation it provided. As overworked, exhausted parents,  the beach offered a moment of freedom.  To let down our guard and let the kids immerse themselves in nature. It has many times been a healing sauve to our collective soul.

We haven't made it to the beach since last summer and were overdo. Andrew has been asking week after week but it's been too cold or rainy. Finally today there was a break in the weather and we made a go of it. 

The boys were
So.
Happy.

They melted into the sand and water.  They played hard for 4 hours straight and would have kept going if we let them.  It was the definition of childhood... the freedom, innocence and unfettered beauty of play.

My heart welled up as I watched them.  Love continues to carve into my soul, making it a deep vessel for joy.  I could hardly contain it and it spilled out. And I found,  for a brief moment,  eyes to see with the heart of God.

God's love is endless. Birthing each of us into the beautiful creation hand made for us to explore and enjoy.  Giving us freedom to live as we chose, God watches as we live out our stories. Often with grief, as a parent of a teenager who makes bad choices.

But sometimes, maybe even often,  God wells up with deep joy when we embrace the beautiful moments in life... love each other,  find nature, discover a talent or passion within us,  make art, sing in the shower, take in a sunset or dance in the rain.

Lent Day 24: Meeting people where they are

I started out this morning at a strategic planning process for our church. I stayed as long as I could, until running to a bridal shower for a dear friend. I sat next to the mother of the groom and talked about raising kids and watching the first one get ready for marriage. I watched the bride to be blushing and smiling. I remembered my own bridal shower.

One of the conversations from the church retreat churned in my mind... meeting people where they are. Life is a journey and as we travel through it, we find ourselves with different surroundings, different routines, different perspectives on things as basic as eating, sleeping and breathing.

Faith is the same way. The journey pushes us through questions and doubts, struggles, enlightenment, hilltops and valleys. Moments where God becomes clear and comprehensible. Moments when God is obscured, invisible, inexistent. We waiver between believer and atheist. Sinner and saint. Whole and broken. Healed and hurting. Light and darkness.

At our church retreat we talked about meeting people where they are -- in life and in faith.

I think this is hard to do. Our current context is so encompassing that it is hard to set aside our own story to venture into someone else's. It also inevitably changes our own story. Our stories are fluid and every interaction draws down one road or another.

Sitting at that bridal shower I looked back and saw myself a giddy bride to be. I looked forward and saw myself as the mother of the groom. Meeting others where they are reminded me that my current story (both in faith and in life) is only for a season.

Lent Day 23: Not in the mood for this

I've spent the last hour scratching my brain about what I would post tonight.  The thrust of my day was centered around work.  I've pondered spiritual implications of work and vocation.  Couldn't think of anything brilliant to write. 

I looked up the scriptures and pondered them.  John 3:16 is the Gospel lesson.  What could I write that isn't cliche?

I sat and watched miles play in the sand. Sunshine.  Gratitude. But I've written on that.  Life is precious. 

Keep thinking...

So many of the lessons that I've already posted on.... humility,  patience,  perseverance, faith,  wilderness,  uncertainty,  lent. All still in play.  Not much has changed.  I'm still struggling with faith and the maturing of the soul.  I can't claim to have made progress.  I can't say I've figured anything new out. It turns in my head, marinating my heart like smoked meat.  Hoping the end result is some sort of well seasoned soul. 

The middle of lent seems to play out like this.  Things get blurry. I feel like life is transforming or God is starting the blow into my life but I have yet to really perceive it. I wrestle deep questions about who I am and how I should orient my life. But there are still far more questions than answers.

Quiet hope.  I continue to wait... and listen... with patience.  Maybe tomorrow or the next day or next week I'll have a revelation... an inspiration...a call.

But for now. One foot in front of the other.  Lent won't last forever. At least there's a picture of a cute baby. 

Lent Day 22: the Jesus workout

I'm exhausted.

I fell in a pile on the couch after the last of bedtime wondering what I could write about from today. 

I was up at 4:30 in the morning and worked from then till now,  often doing two or more things at once. There were a lot of inputs.  Emails. Texts. Phone calls. Meetings.  Multiple people talking to me at the same time. A giant hour glass hung over my head by the end of the day.

I need to catch my breath.  Regroup.

Jesus often went up alone into the mountains to pray. Crowds of people asking for miracles.  Waiting for him to walk on water. There were always many people asking him different questions at once. I bet there were days that left him exhausted.  He was a caregiver... to humanity.

Care giving is a special kind of exhausting.  It tires you physical,  emotionally, spiritually, mental.  It's like doing squats with heavy weights.  It grows you. And,  like a good day ay the gym,  it can leave you a little tender.

Today... the workout was good. It seemed to be one that worked at the major character groups... patience,  selflessness, compassion, wisdom.  Reps repeated until exhaustion. I can't throw up the big heavy plates that Jesus did.  But I did what I could.  Now,  I'll rest and hit it fresh in the morning.

Lent Day 21: Micro meditations: letting my heart be shaped by faith

The practice of writing this blog pushes me to be more present in my day. Looking for signs of God, lessons in faith, stories of light and darkness, meaning & character. It causes me to have many micro medications.  Flash moments that I reflect on and wonder... should this be the focus on my day's blog?

Here are a few of my micro meditations from today...

1. All work can be done with passion

At 8:15, I dropped Andrew off to school. Every morning as I pull into the school parking lot,  I am impressed by the woman to volunteers to direct traffic.  She uses large sweeping gestures,  almost a dance,  clearly coordinating who should drive and who shouldn't.  I've never seen anyone direct traffic like she does,  but it reduces my stress and inspires me every day.  If this small job can be done this well, then all jobs have the possibility to be done greatly. I must continue to find ways to do my work as elegantly as the school traffic director.  It is a gift.

2. Take a moment to see the person in front of you

It was a busy day in kindergarten.  The teacher was a little stressed because she was on deadline for mid year report card testing. (She's an amazing teacher by the way... does kindergarten like the other lady directs traffic, it's also inspiring to watch her run a class of 26 kindergarteners).

In the midst of her own world though,  she missed an opportunity to be present. One of the kids was called out of class early.  This particular student had trouble with organization and forgot to put things back. The mom waited as she finished gathering school work.  I noticed that she was fighting to keep it together.  I'm guessing something hard had happened.  A tragedy of some sort. The teacher,  however was doing 6 things at moment and didn't look up to see the mom's face. She started commenting on how she needed to help her daughter be more organized. 

My heart hurt watching this.  Knowing the teacher didn't see.  Sensing the overwhelm that the mom was already feeling. Sometimes we look past each other when we are too caught up in our own stories.

3. Love meets people where they are and pushes them to shine

I had several opportunities today to bring out the best in people.  Kids in kindergarten who I was helping to test. Colleagues at work who were preparing new projects for later this spring. Therapists and Nanny who work with my kids. Ulrich. My boys.  I had a focus today of trying to meet them each in their world and offer tools that I thought may help them shine. Some things were little.  Some things were bigger.  But I was really proud watching growth happen... it was like taking my small candle and helping to light or brighten theirs. Many small lights makes the world a brighter place.

4. Life is a string of beautiful events that we need to make space fully take in. It makes gratitude come naturally...

This afternoon the weather was beautiful.  I decided to walk instead of drive to do errands.  I took Philip and miles in the stroller. Sun shone. I listened to music.  I laughed with the kids.

I met Andrew and our Nanny at a salon where Andrew was getting his hair cut.  When he was done,  his eyes widened ads he looked at himself in the mirror.  He made faces.  He liked himself.

We went to the park and miles sat on my lap and we swinged. He snuggled in to me.  My soul melted.  I journeyed through a 1,000 memories that a pinned to my heart of moments like that. Snuggling babies,  being in love,  absorbing the awe of nature. Life is a series of moments to be grateful for. You just have to be present enough to take them in.

Nothing stood out as a particularly strong lead for today's post.  But, the discipline of writing this blog day after day has gifted me with a second pair of eyes with which to view my day. It keeps my spiritual walk at the forefront of my mind and makes me much more pliable to the sculpting of the soul.

Lent Day 20: God is a parent of Columbine

Today, while waiting for a Miles doctor appointment, I was leafing through Facebook and saw a TED talk by a mother whose son was a Columbine shooter.

I had to read the transcript rather than watch the talk,  but I was intrigued. What do you say to the world after living that reality?

Her story was what it is like to live through that...

To wake up one day,  say good bye to your son and then lose him and bear the unimaginable weight of his last day for the rest of your life. She looks at everyone she meets wondering if her son destroyed thier life. Her grief multiplied by the grief of others.

It struck me...God is that parent, bearing the unimaginable weight of the darkness of each of his children. 

The darkness of every genocide, 
every oppressive regime, 
every ism...

God is that parent. Carrying our darkness.  Carrying that grief.

Somehow, the cross was strong enough to bear the weight of that reality.

Lent Day 19: Impatience

This week's lesson from the old testament comes from the period when the people of Israel are wandering in the desert.  As they do,  they grow impatient and begin to complain. God sends snakes to bite them.  They ask Moses to pray for them.  God takes the snakes away.

It is easy to get impatient with life. The grass is always greener. We so easily forget past hardships and overblow the troubles of today.

The wilderness is not the promised land,  but we are called to be patient with our times in the wilderness.  A sucky job,  another grueling semester, a lonely period,  a stressful time,  thankless care giving for a child or parent.  The wilderness can seem endless.  The endlessness creates despair and despair leads to impatience.

Faith is hard.  We don't know when or if the desert will end. Maybe 40 days,  maybe 40 years,  maybe never.  And God asks us to put one for in front of the other and carry on.  Faithful to our current call,  hopeful for the future. And trust that there will be manna on the way.  All we need to nourish us on the journey.

I think marketing would have a hard time selling

"...wandering endlessly in the desert."

And yet we are called to hard things... going back to school to follow a passion, 
making sacrifices to care for a parent,  taking care of foster kids...
The list goes on..

These calls to the desert can suck.  Especially when you are knee deep in it and no one understands. Everyone else seems to have greener grass.

When I find myself in these types of wilderness,  I feel like the Israelites, ready to complain  about how none of this is fair.  I shouldn't have to deal with wilderness.

I've paid dues... time for some promised land.

I mean don't we all deserve the promise land.

We are doing noble things after all. 

Then...
the wilderness breaks me.
I just can't do it anymore.
And I fine myself with
an incredible need for God
just to make it through and
a desperate hope that
the promise land is out there.

And then Easter finds me.

Lent Day 18: A small still voice

I need to get an amplifier.  Sometimes the Spirit of God blows so faintly that it's almost imperceptible. Like walking into a perfectly organized room where one little detail has changed.  My mind perceives something out of the ordinary,  but cannot put a finger on exactly what it is.

I felt that today.  Like deja vu. Something between a whisper and a breeze.

Life was happening at a million miles an hour.  We went to church and I stopped in on a church meeting before heading over to ulrichs folks house to watch his brothers kids.  Coming home to a mountain of housework. I set myself to the task of 6 hours of laundry, dishes, cleaning, food prep and yard work,  stopping to play with kids or read books in between tasks.  

While the day was in constant motion, it was reflective.  Cleaning and playing with kids can be that way.  And in the back corner of my mind I felt a ray of light poke through. I couldn't put my finger on what it was,  but it felt like the germination of a seed that would grow into a new sense of call.

I have been working hard to be faithful to the call at hand.  Our fledgling business,  4 small children,  ministering to various people in my life.  But I've also felt that there is an insight that I've been missing.  A way of being or a ministry or an opportunity to minister that I've not yet put together.  And for the last while I've been at prayer and in reflection of what more I could bring to the table.  How I might grow in my current life roles to bring more light or if there were opportunities to use my life to better bear witness to God's grace.

Like I said,  I wish I had an amplifier so I could better tune in to the signal that I faintly grasped a various points today.

Like groping in the dark heightens the sense of sound,  maybe lent itself is enough for me to turn up the sensitivity of my ears such that I can tune in to the whisper of the Spirit and orient myself to follow where it leads.

Lent Day 17: Lent is tough

The middle of lent is hard. 

The first few weeks of a fast feel like a craving,  a temptation and so it feels like spiritual work. But but now,  I've often moved past that and the fast (or spiritual discipline) feels pointless.

I usually think to myself "I'll stick it out,  out of principle but I'm not getting much out of this."

I remember thinking this a lot the year I gave up to do lists.  Much of that lent was spent wandering through days wondering if it was such a good idea.... looking back,  it was a very blessed season that brought years of growth.

Lent is like the beginning of spring.  Everything looks dead and yet under the gray and brown,  in the viens of trees and the roots of bulbs under ground, life stirs.

I'm feeling today a little defeated but Lenten disciplines.  Wandering in my own wilderness waiting for God or the devil to show up.  Listening to silence. Waiting for the breeze to blow. In the deep part of my soul, I know this wait is part of the journey. 

If you are also questioning the journey or the wilderness around you or are asking yourself "what's even the point of giving things up for lent?" Hang on.  The middle is hard, but like spring... Easter is just around the corner.

Lent Day 16: Bringing back the spark...

Last year,  Ulrich and I celebrated our 10th anniversary.  I decided I wanted to take time to prepare for it.  As we passed the anniversary of our engagement, I re visited in my mind the journey through wedding preparations.  Losing weight to fit into my tiny dress,  making invites,  planning the home I was going to build for him.  I remembered dinners I cooked him and that amazing,  honeymoon 1st year. We had no idea what we were doing,  but we were so happy to have found each other.

Those who know us well know that we aren't really that romantic.  Pragmatic and driven,  we focus on building the better world we want to see.  Date nights are often retreats for how to better ourselves or our lives.  We are firmly partners.  Comrades in a fox hole together, each taking fire to protect the other. It is very deep, mature love... but it isn't terribly romantic.

As we approached our anniversary and I reflected on the difference between new love and mature love I wondered if there was a space to recreate those flutter heart moments of new love when you are sitting in a foxhole. I looked up the definition of romance...

1. a feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love.

2. a quality or feeling of mystery, excitement, and remoteness from everyday life

Combining these definitions felt like a way to experiment with the creation of romance.  It seemed to involve doing unusual things. Mysterious things.  Exciting things. It was an adventure to be caught up in even as ordinary life carried on.

I cooked new types of food for dinner.  Took us to new restaurants.  Watched new shows and read new books. Little things really.  They were fun.  It didn't quite feel like when we first got married,  but there were moments when it felt even better.

I write this as a reflection on faith.  I think it progresses much like marraige.  Some life changing event that draws us in,  creates an encounter with God or the spirit and changes us.  The early faith is magical. And.. It matures.  Long period of faithfulness with a longing to feel that amazing presence of the divine.  Glimpses of glory brief.  But... we've exchanged emotional charged faith for strength of character and the ability to long suffer with love. A recognition of a larger story,  a multi dimentional relationship with the paradoxes within scripture and a full range of spiritual tools to draw from in support of those who fear,  who grieve or who are overwhelmed.

We've committed to living out our faith and in little or big ways, we wrestle with that commitment in our vocation, our family, our church and even in our hearts.  The desire for a romance with God still there.  To go up a mountain on some spiritual retreat for some deep revelation or to run away emboldened by the spirit and offer healing to some dark part of the earth that captures our attention on the evening news.

I think my experiment in marriage also applies in faith.  Taking on the unusual as a new practice to encounter God, stepping outside the ordinary of life in small ways. It's not the same as new faith but if you are diligent,  you may find a spark or an ember that takes you back...

Lent Day 15: Taking inventory of my ability to be patient

I started thinking about topics for this blog mid-day and I thought it might be a fun exercise to reflect on my patience level.  Which activities did I feel more patience and which had less.

Patience
Doing homework with kids
Waiting at doctors office
Responding to customer questions at work
Sitting at traffic light
Waiting in line

No patience
Wanting to turn and waiting for traffic
Dealing with crying children
Waiting for someone to come to the front desk
Waiting for husband to get home from work

This exercise provides some interesting insight into what causes me to lack of patience:

1. Unexpected delays
2. Interruption
3. No idea how long I will have to wait
4. Feeling like someone is making me wait on purpose
5. Focus on a future goal rather than the present

What creates patience in me:
1. Love or compassion
2. Reserving space and being present
3. Recognition that the wait is temporary and will soon pass

As I reflected on this,  I tried the exercise of drawing from the things that create patience in me when in a situation that causes me to be inpatient...

Love when handling a trantrum or a late husband...
Recognizing the wait is temporary when dealing with traffic...
Drawing myself to the present and not focusing so hard on the future goal.

Breathing and simply saying,  "patience" breathed out my frustration and allowed calm to settle over me.

I can see why patience is a fruit of the spirit.  It is a spiritual practice to push back the human instinct to be insulted by getting cut off in line or reach for compassion in the face of a toddler hurtling a world of pain at you.  Most of the time,  my reactions are knee jerk.  Very little space between action and my internal reaction (even if I don't show out). The spiritual practice of patience (ground in to mothers and caregivers by sheer volume of opportunity to practice it) forces a choice to love in the face of insult,  press on in the face of long periods of discomfort and become present in the ordinary of life.

God is present in patience.  The peace that passes understanding.  The hope that reaches through today's suffering.  The love that draws out a meaning in life beyond ourselves.  We encounter God in these moments..  so I guess,  I can be grateful the next time someone pees on the floor.