Day 44: It is finished, but it ain't over

A pastor friend of mine posted on Facebook this week about his pilgrimage to bless and pray over unnamed gravesites of illegal immigrants who died crossing the border.

I live in a very comfortable reality.

There's even a cliche name for most of the problems I face:

First world problems

But every day around the world
people die
due to oppression,
lack of clean water,
preventable diseases,
starvation,
and violence.

The world is a very broken place.

It hurts my soul to think of how many young children die when I look at the healthy happy faces of my own boys.

A lot of Christian songs talk about Jesus dying for me and for my sins. And while I think that's a reasonable thing to think about, I feel like it trivializes a little bit the magnitude of what Christ was accomplishing on the cross.

Christ was broken
for the Brokenness of the world.

He carried the violence and oppression that is still out there.

He carried the weight of human cruelty and of all the historically terrible things we have done across the ages.

I am part of that by what I do and what I don't do.

I wish so much that his cry of passion from the cross:

It is finished!

was a declaration that ended all the terrible things in our world.

But they weren't. Some could interpret the statement it is finished as a recognition of defeat.

That the darkness won and that God died.

Did we kill God?

I think the story doesn't end at Good Friday. It was finished, but the story ain't over.

I think that God didn't want to give us the easy way out. That God wanted us to learn the way of love.

I'm not exactly sure how God intends to finish the story. But I do think we were written in as part of it.

It didn't finish with the cross. It didn't even finish on Easter morning with an empty tomb. There was a band of scared disciples locked up in a room afraid of their world, violence, oppression and without a leader. The story continued with them, and it continues with us ...

Day 43: just show up

I sunk into the couch.
Completely defeated.

Everyone was crying or, as we say "fitting" and I was too exhausted for patience.

The mental check list of all I needed to do ahead of a family road trip,  the failures of the day and the epic amount of crying erupting from my four children left me feeling like "f - it, I can't win. "

I had made a plan to try to take the older 2 to church. We haven't done evening lent services since eddie was a baby due to the sheer amount of struggle, the lack of any meaningful participation that we'd be able to have anc the high likelihood that our noisy clan would disrupt the meditative vibe of evening worship.

But,  as I sat on the couch looking at thur mess and chaos around me,  I decided this just wouldn't be the year to start.

I closed my eyes and started thinking about this blog and wondering if it would make me feel better to write down my reflections.

The maundy Thursday service and the readings for the night played in my head.

The disciples fell asleep while jesus prayed,  Peter denied him three times,  and Judas straight betrayed him. Well,  guess my evening in the couch is pretty par for the course.

Maundy Thursday is the day everyone jumps ship.

And I can't even be bothered enough to show up.

If this were a school event would I go?
Yep.
If it were for work, would I make it work?
You bet.

But church....
Not so sure it's really that big a deal.

My heart had convicted me.  How could I bail with so little effort? I could at least put in a respectable fight before calling defeat.

The disciples at least tried to stay awake, 
Peter lingered nearby even if he was undercover.

I could at least take eddie...

I peeled myself off the couch and rounded up eddie to go.  Next thing I knew Philip and miles are clamoring to get into the van.

We made it to church. 
Horrendously late
(i thought it started at 7:30... not 7)
The kids squirmed through the whole thing.
But I went.

Sometimes just showing up is all we need to do.  God will come the rest of the way.

Day 42: The cross amist the ashes

So many pictures of the Notre Dame Cathedral. So ironic for it to catch on fire during holy week. But in a hard and painful way,  almost fitting.

Nothing lasts forever.

The searing, painful truth of this season is coming face to face with loss, suffering and death.

Things we love. 

Thing that matter.  

Will burn or break down or get lost. 

Our health will fade and our bodies wilt away.  

It's hard to hold this close.  

Hard to speak of it.  

Hard to experience it.

But faith offers us hope.

Of all the images Ive seen this week of Notre Dame,  the one that is burned into my mind is that of the golden cross surrounded by darkness and grays and blacks of smoke and ashes.

This is a blinding,  unmistakable hope that radiates from that image.  It for me speaks the 1,000 words of what this week is about.

In the midst of senseless loss and sadness,  light shines.

 
In the midst of fear and conspiracy,  strength and resilience.
In the midst of the hurt of today, 
An invitation to tomorrow.

Holy week is a mystery.
Easter is a mystery.

My whole life I've struggled with what it all means.  And still I don't have answers.

But that image of the shining cross,  strong and bright in the middle of loss and despair is perhaps the closest I come to articulating the promise of Easter.

 

I keep coming back, year after year,  to wrestle with this week. 

And though my mind can't wrap itself all the way around it.  I come to the same verdict.

There is hope beyond darkness. 
Sunday after Friday.

Day 41: Epic fail

I got an email from a friend yesterday with a confession that her lent discipline had been an epic fail.  Instead of giving something up,  by the end of lent,  she found her self doing it more than usual.

Parts of my lent have turned out to be pretty epic failures as well. I wanted to not yell at all... and while I didn't tell more than usual (i don't think) I don't think I really yelled any less.

Failing at lent has a whole lot of emotions and reflections that goes with it.

Here are some that ive been chewing on that bear sharing:

1. Lent is not a self improvement season.  Lots of times we give up things we shouldn't be doing to begin with.  But giving up something during Lent is supposed to resemble a fast.  Voluntarily obstaining from something we want or need for a set period of time and allowing that gap we feel as hunger or yearning to draw our minds into meditation on God.  Finding connection to something bigger than our hungers and desires.

2. Ultimately, failing a fast,  for me,  had almost the same effect of keeping it.  Everytime I yelled at my kids I felt like Peter listening to the cock crow. I was flooded with a sense of imperfection and in need of grace. God is bigger than my hungers. But God is also bigger than my failures.

Spiritual disciplines are sometimes about us finding our way to God,  but sometimes they are about God finding a way to us.

Day 40: is revenge satisfying?

Ive been reading a book to the kids at night where the main villain finds it more satisfying to get revenge than to forgive people who have hurt her.

As I ponder what to write about tonight,  I wonder about the feelings associated with forgiveness and getting even.

Is revenge satisfying?
Honestly?

For me,  it's certainly fun to fantasize about.  That conversation where I tell someone off so elegantly that they feel terrible for what they've said. Or maybe, a bit of kharma -- even better if the universe punishes them and I can be blameless. 

"It's kharma, man. You had it coming. "

I'm almost tempted to say...
it is.

There is something validating about the words :    "I told you so."

It can feel a little good to be pretty

But...

Two things make me hesitate to honestly say that revenge is satisfying.

First,  it sets me back.  All this thinking and fantasizing consumes me.  Draws me from life filling focuses like love or art. It traps me and gives them even more if my attention,  more of my emotional energy. It doesnt get self satisfied. I don't think the thoughts once and move on... nope... or rolls over and over on a repeating loop.  Taking way more headspace than it deserves.

Second,  in cases where something bad happens. Where some sort of "kharma" actually kicks in or I have a conversation and share a few too many choice words.  I generally feel bad. 
Guilty.

I have way to strong of empathy to watch someone go through something and not feel it in my own heart.

So no.
I don't think revenge is more satisfying than forgiveness.
A shit ton easier to think about
And requires far less courage and self control to pull off.
But in the end,  forgiveness frees me to move on, to heal and to focus my emotional energy on things that are life giving.

Jesus carried forgiveness to the cross.

Day 39: One of my favorite sermons

Our pastor has a spiritual gift of preaching... particularly on off-beat church holidays.  My personal favorites are transfiguration and ascension.  I have literally cried for a few of them.

The last few years, he's iterated his palm sunday sermon around a theme of Jesus's entry into Jerusalem as a parade.  Normally, I don't notice sermon material being reused (except the "doubting Thomas - ants in the pants of faith sermon that I swear every guest pastor preaches the week after Easter)

But...

This particular sermon makes me think so deeply and this morning I sat in the pew hoping he would preach on it again.

He did.

My heart smiled.

On one side of Jerusalem, 
Jesus enters on a humble colt,
on the other
Pilot entered on a war horse.

Jesus preached the kingdom of heaven. Pilot preached the kingdom of Rome.

Casear was considered the son of Apollo. Son of God. 
Rome was bringing Pax Romano.
World peace.

Jesus was the son of God.
Prince of peace.

It's such a strong visual image for me.

Two parades marching through the streets. 

One carried the power, wealth, fame, wisdom and strength of the world.

The other was upside down.  Death,  forgiveness, humility, service.

Which parade will I march in?

Either Jesus is son of God or Caesar is.

This is an either or decision.
Not "a little of both"

Will I pass on the things that the world offers to choose the upside down parade? Honestly,  it's hard to commit.

So much of me wants to join Pilots parade:

"Break the glass ceiling"
"Have it all"
"Go viral"
"Make my mark"
Have a "cute" house, fashionable wardrobe, "perfect" body and Instagram worthy vacations.

I want to have my sh*t together and have everyone like me.

Jesus's parade isn't so inviting. 

Putting myself last
Hanging out with the people on the fringes
Mismatched thrift store furniture
Making things work "behind the scenes"
Silently and relentlessly working in love with no one ever in knowing my contributions.

Too many days I stand in line for Pilot's parade. This week, do I dare follow Jesus as his parade switches from palms and hosannas to nails and thorns.

This holy, mysterious, backwards, foolish wisdom of God.

Day 38: God's sweet whisper

Yesterday I had my head wrapped up in decisions about each of my kids next steps.  I second guessed myself and wondered exactly what I should be doing to shape the future for our family.

Today,  I woke up to the fast pace of a prescheduled day.  We were due to meet up with a group from church at Walmart to let the kids spend money from the children's offering to buy new shoes and books for charity.  Then,  Mcdonald's for a quick breakfast, followed by decorating the sanctuary at church for Palm Sunday, then a host of items including: library,  releasing our pet tadpole who had become a frog,  taking a hike, and cleaning around the house.

As the day unfolded there were so many micro moments that filled my heart.

Kids choosing items to give to other kids who don't have money. 

A discussion on why eggs are a symbol of Easter. 

Taking turns holding our pet frog and observing it before letting it go to its "true home in the wild."

Taking a hike and stopping next to a steam to play in the water for hours. 

Playing a board game as a family with no meltdowns or tears even though everyone was up past bedtime. 

Choosing reading over a movie

And all the kids camping ot in the living room for a "sleepover" while I read the next chapter of their book.

Each tender memory felt like a hug from God. A knowing of my heart and a response to my worries.

"They are each wonders.
I gave them to you
to watch and learn from,
to love and to care for.
You are doing great.
They are just as I made them to be.

They are indeed each wonders.

And my heart felt light watching them today.

Sometimes God finds me exactly where I am and speaks so gently to me.

I wish it always came as a gentle whisper,  exactly when I need it.

But God is a mystery. 

Today I'm grateful for the small whisper to my soul. 

It is well.

Day 37: struggling with parental inadequacy

I spent most of the afternoons in meetings planning out next steps for each of the kids therapies.

I have a torn heart about therapy... For the most part,  they are "normal" kids. They are a bit odd sometimes,  but everyone is,  right? They have challenges, but everyone does. And maybe, I should dump therapy and just mother them.

But other times the are moments when I feel like they really do need the extra help that I have a hard time providing.  They are so good for so long,  then boom - something emerges and I feel really grateful to have a therapy team to help me figure it out.

The other thing is.... once you "graduate" from therapy it can be really hard to get it back.

So a fear comes over me. 

"What if I can't give them what they need?"

I think this is one of the deepest fears parents face.  "What if I fail as a parent?" What if I can't give my kid what they need?"

There aren't any do overs. 

As I plan out therapy goals I ponder the question.  "Is this what's best?"

Faith invites me to set my fears aside.  Lead with love.

Grace invites me to save space for myself. 

To recognize that I probably will fail them in some way, 
but God journeys with me. 
Bigger than my failures and inadequacies.
Filling the gaps.
Using the road we are traveling to build and shape each of my boys.
Using the road we are traveling to build and shape me.

I don't know exactly the best road to close from here for each of the boys,  but I do know that the Spirit journeys with me.

And so
Onward.

Laying down fear.
Picking up faith.
Choosing tomorrow
And leaning hard on grace.

Day 36: The small things..

Small things add up.

Pennies turn into dollars.
Dollars add up over time.
A few extra calories or a few less calories over time lead to a big difference in weight.
Small kindnesses strengthen a marriage.

A habit of making deposits
Of money, 
time, 
energy, 
health, 
kindness
Add up to a big difference.

Each day isn't that big of a deal...
But trending over time is.

I've been working hard to find small opportunities to make these deposits. 

Small savings
Quick runs
Motherhood moments
Prayers

Like other areas, small efforts to work my faith gives me spiritual muscles for hard times.  Sometimes,  I surprise myself to find new strength I never knew I had.

This blog is a good example.
I think this is the 4th or 5th lent that ive maintained this practice. Each day. Each post is a really small reflection that doesn't matter much in the bigger scheme of things. But over time, these little reflections have changed my vocabulary and outlook on life. I am sometimes able to see things differently.

Lent is almost over. Easter is nearly here.
And soon I'll pack this blog away until next year... or maybe advent if i'm feeling bold. But phrases will stick with me speaking grace into my life and strengthening me when I need it.

Day 36: Pain sucks

I was driving the kids around today and they were watching the movie Wall-E.

It got me thinking about how the humans were served everything they could ever want. They rode around in hover chairs and were served food and drink on demand while they watched non-stop entertainment.

I used to hate running.  It was so much effort.  I could barely breathe and threw up most times I ran more than a few blocks.  But over time,  I ran further and further distances. 5k, 10k, 10 miles. It was painful at first,  but it grew into an addiction.

I thought about spending life in a hover chair with unlimited room service.  It felt very appealing for an afternoon.  But then,  my body would grow weary and unhealthy.

We need work. 
We need bits of pain.

I wondered if this physical need for pain or work or effort had a parallel for emotional,  spiritual,  social and mental growth.

Yep. 
It does.

Pain sucks.
I want to avoid it when I can.
But pain often grows me.
Makes me stronger
Makes me healthier.
Make me whole.

Of course too much pain breaks me.

Or does it?

In the darkest,  most painful times of my life,  faith was a shadow ever with me.

Childbirth
Being alone in Haiti
Loneliness as a teenager
When people I"ve loved have passed away
Breakups

Hurting body or heart or spirit, created in me a desperation, an openness to let God work.  The situation was too big.  Beyond my control.  There was nothing i could do and so, in my agony,  I trusted.

Sometimes God was slow to act and I grew angry. Feeling abandoned at the hardest times.

But as I reflect now over my life,  I see that pain as a catalyst for God to work in my life and shape and change me and not circumstances.

... but for the record
Pain still sucks.

Day 35: stupid palms in my front yard

I can't wait until Palm Sunday.

There are a few giant palms that grew invasively in my front yard.  They have razor sharp points that occasionally draw blood when they poke me.

In preparation for palm sunday, I cut all the branches off and take them to decorate the church. 

They are currently both way overgrown and block the side walk with pokey branches that sometimes hit the kids in the face when they run up to the house.

They are perfect branches to enter in holy week.  They look regal and yet,  secretly are thorny branches.

Jesus enters Jerusalem to celebrate passover.  He is received as a king but knows he isn't leaving. It's the last time he'll travel that road. His heart heavy as they pave the road ahead with cloaks and palm branches.

Every time I walk pass these terrible spikey plants I am reminded of this journey. I'm ready to cut them down and take them to church.  I'm ready to follow footsteps of this upcoming holy week and into the blessed promise beyond.

The tomb will be empty and I won't get hit by the pokey branches anymore.

Day 34: Not feeling it

Emotions are funny.

They feel like the are going to last forever...

This morning I went for a run.  The world was green.  New.  Beautiful.  I was inspired.  This is going to be an awesome day.

I went to work and several meetings later I felt disoriented and a bit down hearted.  Uggg this day is such a Monday.

I came home and lost myself in reading with the kids.  We read for like 2 hours.  The book was a complete fantasy.  I felt like I could ask a wish of my fairy god mother by the time I put it down.

I pulled out my phone to write this blog and as I reflected on the day, I  was intrigued by how drastically my mood shifted over the course of the day.  Even more,  I remember feeling,  in the moment,  that the emotions were powerful and unchangeable.

Yet, so quickly,  they changed.

Maturity is rolling with the emotions that seem so large and unchangeable and standing ground despite if them.

Faith tells me to keep going, keep loving,  keep hoping,  even when I don't want to.

Grace is accepting my imperfections today,  knowing I can be better. 

Humility is checking my ego today,  cause tomorrow I'll F it up.

Emotions can stir and move in us.
They are powerful indeed. 

But emotions don't tell me the whole story. God walks with me.  Even when I'm not feeling it.

Day 33: Preach preacher

I've been a little jittery all week.

The last time I remember feeling this way was a few years ago when I pitched our company in front of a huge crowd at a "women in tech" festival.

It wasn't so much getting up in front of the entire church. It wasn't even really the sermon.  It was something about the largeness of leading sunday morning worship.

It was an ordinary sunday. 
An ordinary service.
Everything was written in the bulletin.

Aside from the sermon,  everything I said was written down and even the choreography,  the movements where I stood,  when I raised my hand,  was part of the litergy, the ritual of church.

I think that's what made me a little nervous. I was taking on a part of something really large.  A variation on centuries old tradition. World over priests, pastors and ministers blessed the bread,  led the prayers and read the readings.

It's ordinary. 
But Holy.

I've always felt this nagging question if I should have pursued ordained ministry. I've never felt a clear push towards or away. This morning was the first time I truly felt the weight of what an ordained minister does. And that was what made me so jittery.

There was so much reassurance when I arrived at church. Loving eyes looked into mine. Sensing my uneasiness.  Kind words offered me a measure of grace. "Whatever it is,  it will be great. " I had never felt so much like I belonged.  It was home in way that it had never been.

I was suited up with a wireless mic, said a prayer and followed the cross down the aisle. My inlaws showed up. I greeted the congregation and church happened.

Hindsight is 20/20. There were things I had forgotten to say and things that didn't come out how I had intended,  but all in all the meat of the message came through.

Communion from the other side of the table was so beautiful.  The bread.  The wine.  The table.  Every person came. The old with trembling hands.  The newborns in their parents arms.  Each life beautiful and precious to God.  Each created in God's image.  The weight of leading lifted and I melted into a different form of participation. It was worship for me,  but at a different angle.

The congregation sang "It is well with my soul." And my spirit soared. I sang along deeply lingering in each word.

It is well
It is well
With my soul.

Day 32: Telling stories

I'm reading a book called "The land of stories" to my kids for bedtime.  It's a pretty good story about a pair of 12 year old twins who accidentally fall into a fairy tale book and meet snow white,  Cinderella, red riding hood and many others.

It has me thinking of the power of story. Stories are deeply part of the human experience.  Since we've gathered in families and villages, we've told stories. Most of Jesus's teachings came in the form of story.

Stories give us a richness. Context and characters enable us to pull meaning that would otherwise be very difficult to convey.

I think we can even learn from the retelling of our own stories.  Maybe it's why we repeat them and tell them again and again.  We are sometimes able to pull new meaning from the retelling of our own narrative.

Preparing for the sermon this week,  I've plunged into some of the most meaningful stories from my own life.  Reflecting on them and practicing how zi might tell the story in the context of this sermon has given me new insights.

We all have a story to tell and we all have stories we need to hear. And in the midst of sharing stories we can find new insights into ourselves, faith, love, grief, grace and truth.

Day 31: Grace makes me enough

It's Friday.  I'm tired.

Feeling less accomplished than I'd like.
Working my way through uncertain transitions in life and in need of a little grace.

It's easy to talk about wading through uncertainty when it's far in the distance,  but close up it's a bit more mundane and difficult and unadventurous than it feels starting off.

It's like the part of the hike that isn't particularly hard or interesting.  Five miles through tall grass in the hot sun. Not the climb.  Not crossing a river. Just long and ordinary. It feels like,  "why did I even decide to do this?"

I'm disappointed with myself.
It feels a bit like I'm treading water.
I could be happy that I haven't gone backward but everything in me always pushes ahead and periods of less productivity feel like failure rather than a natural rhythm of life.

I wish I would have worked out more.
There's a long list of house project that are long over due.
I fall short of my expectations for myself.

And yet,  somehow I am enough.

I've often described grace as God filling the distance between who I am and who I was meant to be.  Sometimes that gap is smaller and sometimes it's larger,  but it's always there.  I could always be better.  But God comes and fills the gap and makes me enough.

Day 30: Prayer

I've found more opportunities for prayer the last few days and it's made me think about all the forms that prayer can take.

Songs
Silent prayer
Prayers in church
Recited prayers at meals and bedtime
Prayer journaling
Prayers with touch
Prayers with partners
Rosaries
Candles
Elaborate
Simple
Free form
Structured
Rhythmic
Groaning
Joyous
Sorrowful

Sometimes I experience God in prayer.
Sometimes it feels empty and alone.
Sometimes an answer comes.
Sometimes silence.
Sometimes it makes so much sense.
Sometimes it feels silly.

Yet,  I return.

With my heart, my faith, my doubt, my hope, my skepticism, my anger,  my fear, my dreams and my gratitude.

And the Spirit meets me.  However I come and with whatever I bring.

Day 29: working at night

I have an event in the city tonight.

Ulrich has to do bedtime solo. This is a pretty daunting task in our house. 

I took the afternoon to prep
Dinner in crockpot
House cleaned
Schedule written down
Writing blog now because it will be late when I arrive.

I'm not the person who starts packing 2 weeks before a trip but I also hate doing it 2 hours before leaving.  I've learned that I get over focused on "getting everything done" when i'm up against a deadline like a trip or a holiday event and the stress can make me unpleasant to be around.

If I'm reasonably well prepared I can feel more relaxed and be more present with those around me.

I've had to also learn that sometimes I need to do less.  Skip the decorations or not bring that game on vacation if I'm running to close to deadline.  Letting go of my plan is hard for me but a simpler easy going time is often preferable to a stressed out elaborate one.

Knowing how I'm wired has been a big step into decoding how I can actually achieve my desire to be light in the world.  I can't do it when i'm stressed or depressed or sick or angry.

Knowing how other people are wired also can help me be light.  Getting things organized for my husband will really help him tonight be not overwhelmed and more able to be present for the kids.

So... here's to hoping that everyone has a good night tonight.

Day 28: Mothering instinct

From the moment they were born,  I've tried to anticipate each of my kids needs. Physically, emotionally,  spiritually, academically...
 
It's a moving target. The moment I figure it out, they grow and change.

But love compels me
To watch
And listen
And feel
And somehow know
What they need.

I stumble into it. 

But when I find it,  I see them blossom. And my heart smiles.

Right now,  I'm in the search phase.  I'm watching and trying to put the pieces together... and I don't quite have it.

An amazing woman pastor I know once told me that being a pastor for her is being a midwife of faith.

Assisting in the process.
Learned in the art. 
And witness to the miracle.

There are not many feminine analogies for spirituality, but this one resonates so strongly with me.

There is something so powerful and sacred in birth.. and something that changes so irreversibly.

It is an instinct or force that connects me to each of my kids in a way that is so plain and ordinary but sacred, deep and mysterious.

Faith, to me, is almost easier to describe as the same kind of thing that was born in me that moment I became a mother.

That same kind of invisible, irreversible force or instinct connecting me with God, or the divine, or the indescribable thing that holds the universe together.

I am known...
I am loved.

Day 27: A sad night

AwwwAfter I put the kids to bed and finished my blog post,  I plopped into my big comfy bed. My husband was on his laptop looking up hotels for a possible spring break getaway.  I joined him briefly in the research but soon rolled over to go to sleep.

I had been thinking all day about moments when I was "all in."

Going to Haiti
Getting married
Having kids
Starting a startup
My son's autism diagnosis

Those moments are pillars, chapters in my life story. They are powerful memories.  Suddenly, I was hit by a deep sadness.

Something in my heart ached...

I felt the weight of a career that I worked hard to have but walked away from on my wedding day.

The setbacks I had at work because I  didn't "lean in" enough... choosing to stay up with a sick kid and avoid travel because my little guys needed me at home.

The maternity leave I never took because I was committed to getting the company off the ground... and all the moments I missed with my littles.

My heart ached with the real consequences of sacrifices I gladly and easily made.  Sacrifices I would make again.

Going "all in" can hurt.

Jesus cried in Gasthemane so hard he bleed.

Elijah collapsed under a tree wishing to die.

Paul agonized over a thorn in his flesh.

But they each got up and kept going.

This morning I woke up thankful
for my husband, 
my kids, 
my business. 

Thankful for the life God has blessed me with.

It's ok to save space to hurt.  Our sacrifices, big or small,  often leave wounds. But we make them anyways.

Tonight I am at peace.

Day 26: sermon writing part II

I sat in church today taking notes to prepare for next week when I lead worship.  Every church does things a little different and I paid attention to the little things that the pastor said that weren't written down in the bulletin.

The kids squirmed around and I wondered how they will react to seeing me up front. Wondering if a small person will attach themselves to my leg and how I should best respond. 

I think I'll bring an ergo just in case...

I spent the rest of the day reflecting on stories to tell and words that stand out from the day's readings.

All in...

There have been a number of times when I've put all my chips on the table...

Moving to Haiti
Getting married
Starting a startup
Becoming a mother
Philip's autism diagnosis

The decision in each of these cases was easy. Much easier than trying to decide my bet in a poker game.  In life,  I didn't see any alternative.  Go all in.

Something about encountering God made faith an easy all-in decision.

For Abraham.
For Moses.
For Mary.
For Paul.

Some combination of love, faith and hope propelled them to action. To leave behind one life and take on a new one.

The call was clear.
The decision convicting.
The path forward however was not.

Lent grows hard as we stare down the cross. God's path isn't always easy.

But the Spirit travels
before us,
with us
and within us.

And with each sunset,
we rest in God's rich promises.

Day 25: Melting away pessimism

When you've lived long enough, a part of you recognizes that endings are not happily ever after,  things don't always get better and life isn't fair.

A piece of me always holds on to real truth and possibly that bad things will happen.  But I chose faith anyways.

This morning I went for a run.
It was a glorious run.
The sun was shining.
My body felt healthy.
My mind emptied by the focus on running and the green bursting into life all around me.

At that moment anything felt possible.
The rational, planned piece of me was silenced and I could just enjoy the blessings directly on the path ahead of me.

Day 24: blessed with an amazing family

My house was a bit of a revolving door today.

The kids didn't have school so I stayed home from work. We had therapy scheduled from 8:30 - 5 and I debated how much to cancel so that we could go somewhere and enjoy the beautiful weather.

I started in on the day.  Writing up lists for the kids,  cleaning the house,  getting things in gear.  At 8:30 the therapists showed up (3 of them) and by 10 we had dug up the backyard looking for worms for our wormery and had built a 4 × 8 cardboard city complete with airport that had jetways for little people.

At 10:30, a friend of Phillips came over for a playdate and around 1 my sister in law showed up with two cousins.... who needs to go anywhere? My house transformed into a mini preschool and the kids played hard... for hours.

I hardly spoke to my sister in law.  The two of us soaked in sunlight engaging different groups of kids as they naturally rotated playmates.

For the most part,  they all played nicely.  A few easy to break up squabbles. But it was way easier then it should have been with 7 kids, 5 of whom were under five.

Everyone left around 5 and I threw together a quick dinner and we took a stroll downtown before heading into the bedtime routine.

As I reflect on the day, I think about my sister in law.  And I think..  love is slow.

She and I are two very different people who married a pair of brothers.  We share a deep commitment to family. We show up.  To my mother in laws house nearly every weekend,  to each other's events,  birthdays,  holidays,  vacations.  We let each other discipline each other's kids.  We stand together when if deep down we don't fully agree with each other. 

Today,  I felt the comfortableness that comes from years of showing up and keeping at it.  We had a perfect, ordinary day with seven small children running around and banging into our legs.  We read stories. Played in the sand.  Raced cars and looked at bugs.  We got a few words into each other here and there but mostly we silently shared space in the most intimate, motherly way. Completely at home with each other and ourselves.  Relaxed. Blessed.

Love is a commitment that you work at.  Not just with your spouse,  but with your parents,  your siblings,  your inlaws.... sometimes it's not easy.  Marriage is clearly not easy,  but family isn't always easy either. But it's a blessing.  As we keep chipping away at it... showing up,  saving space,  forgiving,  extending grace,  we can make it work.

And sometimes, after an ordinary Friday afternoon it dawns on me what an extraordinary blessing it is.

Day 23: we all have a story

"I just got done reading a really sweet book to my kids called "The world according to Humphrey."

I could probably write a whole sermon about it.

The story is told from the perspective of a classroom hamster named Humphrey who spends a weekend with each child in the class and learns who they are on a deeper level. In some small way,  Humphrey helps each family he visits with some big problem they face.

It's of course a little overly sappy as the audience is small children but it reminded me a bit of the Sandra Bullock movie "Crash" that connected the lives of strangers in LA.

I took on a project to write a blog during lent for my church. I wanted the blog to be a community project so I've reached out to many people in the church and asked them to share something. Nearly everyone ive asked so far has agreed and I've been blessed to read each of their stories.

This world has 7,530,000,000 people. 
7 billion stories.
7 billion struggles.
7 billion triumphs.

We live out each of our narratives in the rippled waters of other peoples stories.

Each day we have an opportunity to be light.

To breathe peace.
To save space.
To connect.

Even the tadpoles in my living room are able to lift someone's day. Create joy and anticipation. And,  really,  they are amphibians and don't even have fur. Granted... they are entirely fascinating.

But the point is....
We don't have to do amazing, ambitious things to make the world a better place.
In fact, I'd argue, if we all focused our light into the dark spaces that are in our immediate reach, the world would be far less dark.

Maybe a sappy kid's book is exactly what I needed to remember how powerful small acts of kindness really can be.

Weekend goal: bring at least as much light into the world as my tadpoles.

Day 22: Breaking bad news

Telling the truth is hard...

"How much do you weigh?"
"What do you think of my new hair cut?"

Some professions demand personal courage when it comes to speaking truth... pastors, lawyers,  doctors, police,  regulators.

"How long am I going to live, Doc?"

Having courage to not only speak truth but to be present in that truth with tenderness and resolve is fruit if a character long built with years of discipline and a wrestling with the human condition.

The other day I watched a documentary with my kids about the Voyager space probes. There was a section about the Challenger accident and a clip where Reagan addressed the nation.

".. The future belongs to the brave..."

Today I found myself in the place of needing to clarify circumstances for someone. Compared to the gravity of news shared everyday by doctors, military, police, etc.,  it was light. But still,  I needed to reach in for courage to speak truth and wear humanity in that truth.

Jesus often struck this hard balance perfectly offering the bluntest truth with sincerest grace.

It's not easy. I'd prefer to ignore the scale,  and tell everyone it's going to be ok. But life doesn't always go my way.  I need to lose some weight and people need someone to journey with in the dark hours of life.

Lean into love.
Love makes it not only possible but beautiful.
Love transforms.
Love drives out fear.

I'm not sure if I used all the right words,  but I carried a candle in one hand and love in the other...

Day 21: sermon writing

A few months ago my pastor asked if I would lead worship in his absence on April 7th.

I said yes.

I'm both excited and terrified.

About 10 years ago I got a taste of what is like to be a pastor when I took on a lay ministry position at my church. I led an alternative worship service and for all practical purposes served as a jr pastor in most ways.

With those experiences,  I deeply searched my heart to sipher whether I felt a call to ordained ministry. 

The church I grew up in did not have our allow women pastors so I had never considered the possiblity growing up.  I had always had a deep passion for faith and still to this day haven't settled on whether my call is inside or outside ordained ministry... or maybe somewhere in between.

At any rate,  the service in April 7th will be my first time serving in the formal role of worship leader in a traditional sunday morning worship service. And today I jotted down my first notes for the sermon.

The lectionary text gives me a lot to work with.  And at a first read I am impressed with the question...  what would you give up to follow God?

So, i have to start with myself.... what would I give up to follow God?
Is God asking me to give up anything?
What does it mean to follow God and where are we going?

Since I need to give answers to a full Sunday morning congregation,  I'll be thinking a lot about these questions this week....

To be continued...

Day 20: Does our work matter?

Over the weekend Ulrich confessed that it is harder to value his contributions at home or see them equal contributions at work. Which lead to an interesting conversation about society and feminism and what really matters in life. 

The thoughts are far too many for a single post ... but there is a piece that I've been meditating on since then that is worth sharing...

I think we're trained to think that....

"If someone pays for it,  it must be valuable. "

The unspoken flip side, 

"if no one pays for it,  then it must not be valuable."

But this thinking puts money at the top of the food chain. Can we only value what we can pay for?

Does money determine... 
What is precious?
beautiful?
Important?

And our work? Should we only value the work we are paid for?

How can you place a value on love or the time it takes to develop a relationship or maintain one?

How do you value raising children? Walking along side someone with cancer?
Or making art? Playing music? Gardening?

I struggle with this.  I deeply value those things that make life the beautiful journey it is,  but on any given day if I didn't get my list done from work I feel a nagging responsibility to make it up.  Or if I missed work due to unexpected illness of a child I feel tremendous guilt that I should be working.

But the reverse isn't always true.... if I miss a kid thing due to a work meeting,  i just think,  "well that's what happens sometimes."

Seth Godin in one of his books says that we are all artists. That work we do,  is our art.

What if we owned that?

What if we saw the work we do in life as art?

God made man in his image. To be creative. To be in relationship. We are made to make art.

And so, the thought has stayed with me as I made beds and folded laundry.  I am making art.

As I did homework and cooked dinner. I am making art.

As I worked in the garden and wrote this blog,  I am making art.

Even at work today.  As I sat in meetings and planned out projects.  I made art.

And so I breathed out what God breathed into me.

Day 19 : What if life wasn't busy?

I'm going to be honest. If my life wasn't busy,  I would probably make it busy.

I can fantasize about a leisurely life where I had time to make scrap books for each of my kids... I could even lie to myself and say that life will slow down someday.

But honestly. It won't.

It's not who I am or how I'm wired.

I've recently completed a number of personal and professional goals that I had set up back in September and life is transitioning for me. 

I knew that this would happen during lent.  I had looked up the calendar and realized that a number of projects would wrap up in the March / April time frame.

My goal at that point was to transition to a lower speed.  Throttle down. Cook more. Exercise more. Read more books with my kids. Take them on hikes. Put on the calm fun attitude of "summer mom" as days get long and learning happens with campouts, fireflies and days at the water park.

It feels good to throttle down,  but it is also hard. 

I am high octane.

I want to do and be and love so much that I have a great temptation to take on the world.

For me,  this season reminds me that saving space in my schedule allows me to lean into a call of love.

It gives me bandwidth to really listen when people talk to me.

It gives me bandwidth to figure out why tantrums happen and have the patience to help my little guys push through to the next milestone.

It gives me bandwidth to think and feel and hurt for the world and to find a gap to pour myself into.

And then I would throttle back up and throw all the octane I have into whatever new call finds me.

So.

Tomorrow there will be a new to do list.
For this season. 

I work.
I love.
I listen.

And I make space for my heart to take in the world around me.

For the Spirit whispers.

Day 18: That good kind of sore

Today turned out to be nicer than I expected,  so midday we decided to go ot for a quick hike.  Everyone has just eaten lunch. The sun was high in the sky.  The hills were luscious green.

We arrived at the trail head and miles bounded down the path at full speed.  I ran after him only to find he had slid on a muddy patch and was covered head to toe in gloppy mud. Of course the other kids took cue and danced happily in puddles along the way.  Five minutes in and everyone was completely filthy.

We went a little over a mile down the path. I could feel myself recharging. If I had a battery sign,  you would have seen a little lightning bolt going from 30% to 36% to 47%. It was perfect.  My four wild boys, bounding down the trail,  muddy, happy and full of life.  No one to chastise or judge them or me.  We could just be. Breathing in creation. Looking at wild flowers. Playing in the springtime streams.

At a fork in the trail,  miles decided to go full on and wade into the stream water.  We sat and rested.  I let him play for a while and decided we had gone far enough and should probably turn back. Miles could have played there for hours but the other kids were ready to go so I gave him 5 minutes,  4, 3, 2,1.... time to leave.

Epic melt down. 
I mean epic.

I had forgotten to bring the ergo and honestly had no intention of carrying him anyways due to the large amount of mud that covered his body.  But. He was screaming and it was time to leave.

The trail back was completely uphill.

Gripping an angry 2yr old while climbing up a slippery muddy trail is a workout. I was breathing like a locomotive.

We got back to the car and headed home.

I felt ...
Amazing.

Working out is this strange painful thing we push through that makes us feel awesome.

It's hard to get started but once I do, I always feel amazing and the tiredness is a good tiredness, the soreness is a good soreness.

I think spiritual disciplines are a lot like working out.  The discomfort is a good discomfort. The growth of the soul,  the stretch of the heart, the wrestling with faith and doubt and God.  Going rounds and feeling so done,  but a good done.

Every year I look forward to lent,  not because its an easy season but because it's a good hard.

Day 17: lost

Today I was finishing up some major projects and reviewing my task list. I feel a little lost.  Usually,  that feeling prompts me to grab a notebook and zoom out and think about my goals in the larger scheme of life.  Where am I headed? What is important right now?

As is the case on a rainy Friday afternoon when all i wanted to do was go workout and binge watch Netflix,  I  didn't make a ton of progress on "what next..." so a lost,  aimless feeling settled in to the background while I shuttled kids, ran errands and made dinner.

It's easy to get lost.

Conversation takes a turn that I don't quite get.

Take a wrong turn on the way to the airport.

Receive tragic news of the passing of a loved one.

Being lost is a sense of not being able to make sense of one's situation and not knowing how to react.

There are times, like today,  when I am a little lost.  In a moment not sure of what to do.  There are times when I am big lost. When life has shifted and I find myself unable to comprehend or respond.

I was thinking about the words of Amazing Grace today.

I once was lost but now am found.

To be found.
There is a security in being found. 
No longer alone.
And the one who finds us can guide us out of being lost.

Faith can find us when we are lost.

When I can make sense of my world. Faith can find find me and guide me.
When I don't know how to respond or what to do next.
Faith can find me and guide me.

In my big moments of feeling lost and
In the every day small things that set me out of sync and make me feel just a little lost.

And sometimes,  when I can't yet wrap my head around life, when I don't have clarity about my next step, faith can simply let me know I'm found.

I'm not alone. And I can rest with an unresolved heart tonight,  faith will lead me into tomorrow.

Day 16: change can be real hard

Miles has been having a hard time sleeping and we think it's time to toss the bottle.

Our kids are incredibly sensory seeking, so the thought of removing a soothing sensory stimulation is done very lightly.
Andrew didn't give up his bottle till he was five. 

Last night was the first night of trying to go to bed without a bottle. Took about 45 minutes to put him to sleep (cause he was completely exhausted) but he was up at 2am for a bottle and cried until around 4.

He doesn't know how to sleep without the sensation of sucking. Or at least he doesnt think he can.

I rock him.
Sing.
Rub his back.

Soothe him through the fury of the tantrum.

My heart aches.

I think about my post from yesterday.  Letting go of habits is easier when not embedded in a routine.  But here we are at a core routine.  Falling asleep at night.  Change is a battle ground.

Behind the resistance is a fear that we can't. 

A fear that we can't possibly fall asleep without a bottle.

But maybe we can. 

Maybe if I let go and trust the hand that pushes me out of my comfort zone. The hand that comforts and reassures me. Maybe I can set fear aside and trust that I can fall asleep without my bottle

In the meantime, I'll be up with a very unhappy two year old pondering lifes great mysteries greatly anticipating the day that caffiene is an option.

Day 15: changing habits...

I thought giving up beverages would be hard.

I really enjoy the contrast of a sweet drink following a salty or umami morsel.  I love warm tea in the morning.  I need milk after chocolate. Beverages give my life little splashes of satisfaction.

So... let's give them up for lent and see how long i can hang.

Like different forms of fasting,  this practice has given me insight into myself.

I got a new water cup and mostly don't miss beverages....

except...

In routines that they are deeply engrained in...

Sometimes I set up shop at McDonald's and sip on a diet coke while I pound out focus work.

Some meals have particular drinks that go with them and I eat them almost ritually. Drinking perfectly in rhythm. Orchestrating flavors for optimal enjoyment.

In these moments,  there are particular drinks,  textures, flavors that I miss.

But otherwise,  I hardly notice.

It makes me think that if I want to change who I am I need to grow aware of my rituals and recognize how embedded they are in my being.  Change will be easier if I break my routines to new situations.

I think of visiting my parents house with my grown siblings... man,  some things go right back to how they were growing up.

"Wow. I'm being a total teenager right now!!"

Allowing God to work in me may mean constructing new rhythms for me to dance to.

Time to examine what routines I can break down and what new ones I might build up to create opportunity to embrace who God is calling me to become.

Day 14: breathing into uncertainty

Life is always transitioning. Kids growing older.  Old rhythms give way to new ones. Roles change at work and relationships morph. I find myself needing to reinvent who I am to respond to the calls my life place on me. This reinvention creates a bit of inner uncertainty as I grapple with what my course should be moving forward.

Uncertainty is hard.

Medical conditions
An uncertain relationship
Trying to get a job
Trying to get pregnant
Being pregnant

The mind wonders playing out different scenarios.

What if...

We, at least I, want to be prepared for whatever may come. I'm a planner...
And the waiting is hard.

I've made a permanent lenten decision to lean into uncertainty and not press for closure or a clear path forward.  To allow myself to feel uncomfortable by the lack of resolution.

I feel like this,  over time,  has built some spiritual muscles and I have more endurance for periods of life that are beyond my control. I find myself more able to be present in the midst of my uncertainty.

Tomorrow is a mystery.
Today I am.

Day 13: life is messy

As I walked in the door coming home from work today. I was greeted by four small people each needing something different.

Miles was tired and fixated on looking for ladybugs in the front yard.

Philip had been waiting for me to come home to plant carrots.

Andrew was finishing therapy and wanted to do additional chores to earn more screen time.

Eddie was plowing through homework and trying to finish a science fair project that was due.

Additionally,  my wonderful in laws were working on getting dinner ready.

I wanted to split myself into a starfish.  Hold the baby,  help with dinner,  work on homework and play with the middle two. But instead,  everyone got pieces of my split attention as i tried to quickly switch between one thing and another.

At the end of the evening,  it was late.  We were exhausted.  The science project was built and we were eating dessert as I got kids into jammies.

Tonight...
Life was colorful.
Life was messy.
Life was life.

But my dad was there to build a model earth with my son.

My mother in law danced gracefully through the rhythms of an evening routine and got dinner put on and cleaned up before I had blinked.

And we all sat around the table the ulrich grew up with laughing at how hard this whole messy business of raising kids is.

We are family.
Relationships can be hard.
Feelings can get hurt.
People all have their own little things.

But in the messy and the rub we find love and grace and forgiveness and gratitude and joy and hope.

My house is an epic disaster and I am way too tired to think about cleaning up tonight.  But my heart is full.

Immensely grateful for the family I was born into, the one that I married into and the one that I birthed. There are a lot of people to keep tabs on but I love them each so and am grateful to be part of the messy story we share.

Day 12: Honesty check

I've been having a debate with myself all day.

Is it possible to be driven and not be a jerk?

At a surface,  I feel, yes,  it absolutely is.  But in experience,  I'm having a harder time.

I intentionally gave up yelling at my kids and saying negative things to my husband for Lent as part of a push to slow myself and my life down.

It's easy to be patient with the kids on Saturday morning.  Much harder on Monday morning.

Easy to be patient with my husband Friday night,  much harder Wednesday night.

The more I have on my plate.  The more focused I am on getting it all done and the more justified I feel in pushing others in my life to tow the line with me.

There are positive aspects of being driven.  I've built new things. Started a startup.  Moved around the world.  Got my kids the support they need.  Making things happen can often lead to a better world.

But there is a cost.
Emotional stress. 
Personal space.
Self care.
A grind at the character.

Things that leave me with less in the tank than I want and, as a bonafide extrovert,  often this leads to the wrong words coming out of my mouth.

Interestingly,  I see the impact on my husband completely differently. He doesn't snap.  He shuts down. Focuses in and ignores the world around him as he reaches for the next goal.

And so... my debate...

Is it possible to push hard and drive at goals and become self absorbed?

Possibly, but definitely not without a lot of self-awareness, self-forgiveness and a whole lot of try again.

I've cut back on the amount of yelling and unnecessary remarks, but I'm not yet achieving what I set out to do this lent.  The struggle is, however,  pushing me to have hard conversations with God and with myself.

And that,  Charlie Brown,  is what lent is all about.

Day 11: The spiritual need to work

Today was a project Saturday.

The first nice weather weekend and we cruised around the house Friday night seizing up a list of priority to do items that have been piling up for a break in the weather.

I had also wanted to take the kids for a hike and just enjoy the weather unbridled by thoughts of productivity.

But Andrew woke up this morning and said,  "mom,  we're gardening." It was funny because he got impatient that we were burning daylight as I got the other kids ready.

First trip to Lowe's and home by 9:30am we were on a mission.

Three adults in the house each tackling a project of passion.  My dad building is a wooden bench for the table as we've run out of seats now that miles uses a chair.  Ulrich fixing the garbage disposal and polishing DVDs. And I hung out front with kids and pulled weeds all day while they built themselves a bug habitat occasionally stopping to help me plant a new flower.

The day was leisurely but effortful.
Work but relaxing.
Tiring and satisfying.

Made in God's image,  we are creative beings. And in the creative work of my hands,  I find myself in silent communion with God.  My thoughts slow down or sometimes I stop thinking as I focus on the work. I breathe in a meditation and breathe out a satisfaction in being part of the creative, beautiful force that has shaped the world into what it is.

And. 
Following a good work. 
I find true sabbath.
A rest for my soul.

Day 10: Today was a gift

There are some days,  

some moments 

that are gifts. 

Today was one of those.

I brought the kids home from school and Andrew randomly decided to pull weeds,  wash dishes and clean windows. I turned on jazz, cleaned the kitchen and put a turkey in the oven.  We then ended up spending the evening in the front yard, pulling weeds and listening to jazz pouring out from inside the house. Andrew brought his terrarium out to gather bugs for miles to look at.  Miles discovered roly-polys and was poking around the front yard looking for them saying "poly poly."

His perfect tiny voice.
His joy.
The warm sun.
The new life springing forth in the garden.
Andrew's enthusiasm.
My hands in the dirt.

All I could think was 

"life is a gift. This is a gift. "

My dad is visiting and he pulled out the grill and made burgers.  We watched a documentary about bugs. Miles was fascinated and watched the whole thing.

There is such an amazing diversity of life on earth.  Down to the curious world of insects. 

Life is amazing. 

Some days God doesn't hide behind the clouds.  Some days God is right in front of you showing you the amazing beauty in every detail of creation. 

And it's an amazing gift.

Day 9: Gratitude sparks joy

The weather was beautiful today and the flowers in my garden are starting to bloom.  I was overwhelmed with contentment.

It was a bit of a disaster of an evening.  I was trying to cook a nice italian dinner. Kids had lots of homework.  In the end,  the house was destroyed.  Dinner was a success.  Homework was completed by 9pm and I was too tired and sore to deal with the aftermath.  Guess who will be scrubbing the kitchen at 6am...  this girl.

But none the less I found myself completely unphasied. Two squirrelly boys having a hard time with homework.  Cool.  Crying and fighting at my feet while i'm handling boiled water.  Yep,  I've done it before.  I was magically cool though what seemed to be a hard evening. But why?

The weather.
Gratitude sparks joy.

In Michigan,  where I grew up the first 50 degree day is celebrated with bbq, frisbee and shorts. It's like a holiday.  Everyone in the whole state is happy.

I had to check out Marie Kondo. I have my own random obsession with organization,  especially of clothes and toys and I was curious to learn if there would be any tips for me.

I was struck by her concept of items striking joy.

I was struck by my calm happy demeanor stemming from the beautiful weather.

I pondered this while i put the kids to bed and realized how deep the connection between gratitude and joy really is.

When things suck for a long time and suddenly they stop sucking... getting a new car after not having one,  starting a relationship after being lonely,  a job when you are broke,  good weather after winter,  health after sickness. 

There is joy.
Deep joy.
Because there is gratitude.
Authentic,  unabashed gratitude. 

In those times I don't choose to be grateful.  I can choose nothing other than gratitude.

It is hard to find gratitude when things are generally ok. Or at least the all encompassing gratitude that sparks joy.

I think life has to slow down enough for the heart to search out gratitude and to be moved to joy from it.

When I move slower,  my heart can meditate on those things that mean the most to me. 
I can find gratitude. 
Joy follows. 

Day 8: Parenting under a microscope

One of the hard parts of parenting children with autism is the demands of therapy.

ABA therapy is amazing.  10 - 30 hours a week each child has a one on one therapist who works on a variety of goals including improved language skills,  social skills( eye contact,  being a good sport,  making small talk),  life skills (like getting dressed or eating a wider variety of foods) behavioral problems (dealing with aggression or tantrums) and the list goes on.

Not only does the child receive those dedicated hours but there is also a clinical team that come regularly to observe and look at the child's progress compared to developmental norms and works with the parent to determine new goals and next steps.

The outcomes for our family have been amazing.  Philip learned to speak and play with other kids. it has changed the trajectory of his life in a way that I have a hard time putting into words.

But it is a commitment. There are a lot of rules. Your schedule revolves around therapy and your parenting is under a microscope. How well do I follow through? Am I able to create structure and opportunities for my kids to have successful growth? How do I respond to tantrums?

Parenting is a natural place of vulnerability.  I think every parent recognizes that the job is too big and that it is impossible to get it right every time. You sweat and pray and come back and try again.  They push your buttons and you wonder how such a small person can tie you up in knots.

Having a group of therapists there to give me advice and tips is really helpful but it also can easily put me on the defensive or remind me of all the small ways that I suck as a parent.

Slowly, but steadily,  Gods has been chipping away at my pride. Humility is hard.  It's a discipline that will take a lifetime of work.

Accepting my limitations.
Recognizing the gifts in others.
And embracing that I am special but so is everyone else.

This work becomes easier with love.

Love for my children gives me strength to be open and vulnerable in front of therapy team so I can become more of what they need.

Love for my spouse gives me courage to set aside my agenda for his when it's needed.  

Yesterday I choose hope.
Today I chose humility.

Day 7: Hope is a decision

Over time I've learned well that love is a decision far more often than it is a feeling.

Quietly sitting up at night with a sick child.
Picking your husband's clothes off the floor for the millionth time.
Calling a friend to let them vent.
Flying half way across the country to be there when someone needs you.

Love is an action. A verb. A call.  A discipline. Love is hard work.

Hope,  I've come to realize,  is similar.

I hope I get new shoes for christmas.  Is not far from loving those shoes when they show up under the tree.

Those emotions are real.  But there is a deeper hope just as there is a deeper love. Hope saves space for God to work. Hope is not giving up on someone. Hope is recognizing how messed up the world is but living into the possibility that God is present anyway.

Tonight I got a call from my dear friend who struggles with alcohol. She stores up so much grace and yet,  just as hard,  she falls. She is a living parable and teaches me how to see with God's eyes.

I watch her struggle. I see her heart. I carry her pain. I know the demons that follow her.

As I watch her life unfold I am invited to greet every new day as a new day. I am invited to be hope.

So many days I want to throw in the towel. I want to stop choosing hope. I want to give up and say this is hopeless.

But,  as I am called to love. 
So I am called to hope.

So,  today,  again,  I chose hope.

Day 6: Interceding with groans

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.

Everyone was a little out of sorts.  Time change is hard on small kids and even harder on parents of small kids.

Little children rely on the rhythm of life to help them have a level of self awareness. When the schedule gets off,  they cry.  They don't even know why.  They just do.

As a parent sometimes this routine disruption catches me off guard.

"Why on earth are you crying?"

But eventually,  I put two and two together.

"You need food. You need a nap. You need me to hold you. Your little world is broken and you need me to fix it. "

I realize my overwhelm doesn't look too different. I'm melting down at the end of a day and I don't know why. I don't know what I need. My little world is broken and I don't know how to fix it.

In those moments, the Spirit intercedes. Knowing my heart,
my mind,
my soul,
my needs,
my weakness.

The Spirit meets me right where I'm at.

In the middle of my tantrum.

This meditation is making it way easier to deal with all the crying children around me. Sometimes someone needs to be our rock when the world is big and overwhelming.

Day 5: Marriage

Sunday afternoons are a time set apart for checking in on the marriage.

Every week, we drop the kids off at my mother in laws and we go out for lunch.  Some weeks we sort mail and discuss finance,  others we plan next steps for the business and sometimes we go on long walks and do hard communication about issues between us.

It's a kind of maintenance like doing laundry or changing the oil. If we miss a week or two,  no big deal but if too many weeks go by we can feel the strain somewhere. We get out of sync and begin to rub.

Sometimes life is stressful enough that even our weekly outing isn't enough to cover all the things we need to cover to keep the marriage healthy and we find ourselves emotionally overdrawn. In those times I find myself wanting to take Sunday afternoon for myself. A little "me"time is far more inviting than continuing to push through and talk it out, work it out and plan it out together.

Ulrich never lets me off the hook.

"We're doing this."

And so we do.  Week after week. Issue after issue. Compromise. Communication.  Togetherness.

God calls us into relationship.  God calls us to love.  And I've found no better place to practice and live this call than in my marriage. It's easier to love people if you don't have to deal with them day in and out. Loving someone who leaves towels on your clean floor is harder. And the practice of extending grace to the person who can most easily press your buttons makes it easier  for me to save space for people I meet in passing.

This Lent I've decided to commit to giving a bit extra to this loving endeavor. Not nagging,  even when I'm fully justified to do so.  Not pushing my agenda. And fully showing up on sunday afternoon ready to give first and receive second. Not gonna lie, biting my tongue doesn't come easy.  But it's lent.  It's not easy.

Day 4: Bedtime fears

My kids are at the age of night time fear. On various random nights, a small face appears by the side of my bed following a nightmare or unable to sleep due to scary thoughts.

I remember being that age and creeping into my parents room.  It was like magic.  No matter how scary the dream was it seemed to melt away if I crawled into their bed.

The other night my oldest lingered in the living room long after bed while I cleaned up. 

"Go to bed. "

"I can't. I'm too scared. "

"What are you scared of. "

"I don't want to talk about it.  I know it's going to happen eventually. "

"Are you scared of someone dying?"

"I know it's not for a long time,  but i'm going to die some day. "

I remember the first time I pondered that.  I remember thinking that some how I would understand it when I grew up and it wouldn't scare me anymore.  I remember growing up and being completely pissed that it still bothered me.  I remember talking about it with someonewho was aging and realizing that it is something we wrestle with our whole lives.

Eddie and I talked.  I shared some of the thoughts that helped me when I wrestled with those night time fears. He smiled at me, relieved not to have to hold in all the heaviness of his heart.

I wish God had a bedroom somewhere that we could creep into in the middle of the night when the thoughts are too loud to sleep.

Faith is trusting into the unknown.  I've made the decision to lean into faith even when I don't know what lies ahead.  God has shown up and walked along side me up until this point and faith is trusting that in those moments when my soul is most in need of peace that passes understand,  it will be there.

Day 3: Judgement

I just finished a 4 day audit of our company's manufacturing documentation.

I sat on one side of the table, the auditor on the other.

He requested documents.  I gave them to him.  He asked questions.  I responded.

Have we followed every regulation? Do I have documented proof of every decision made? Every product built? Properly documented inspection forms for every wire, screw and battery we bought?

Judgement is uncomfortable. I knew somewhere in the paperwork there would be typos or missed spaces. I knew there would be issues. But I still had to sit,  calmly and own every mistake, even if they were made by other people. With time I've gotten better.  Less defensive. Less stressed. Ive come to accept that there will always be things to fix and if I am open,  I can learn from the process.

But today as I sat there,  I imagined what an audit of my soul might look like.

God on one side of the table, me on the other. 

He pulls out the file of my life.

"Explain why you made that decision... "

I think many moments would leave me speechless.

"Um,  well,  I don't really have a great explanation for that. "

"Can you show me evidence of the kind of person you intended to be?"

"Well there were these six events where you can clearly see that I did a great job implementing my intentions to love and forgive and be generous."

"And on these days?"

"Well,  that day i was tired and that day I was overwhelmed.  I mean look at everything that was going on. Clearly I couldn't have been at my best. "

"Let's open to May 13, 2004. You woke up at 8:30am. Let's walk through the entire day. Who did you talk to? What did you say? What words were left unsaid? What did you do? "

And so it would go.

I tend to think of myself as pretty together.  Generally of good character. I can justify myself and my actions.  But if my life was held to an audit where random days were selected and analyzed in detail, chances are high that I would have said or done something that I would be embarrassed to have to explain.

Audits are a healthy part of organizations and, I think, a good spiritual practice.  To find the courage to open ourselves to an honest reflection of who we are and what we've done opens us to possibly of learning from our past to grow us into the future of who we want to become.

Not easy though. Looking in the mirror is hard. Accepting judgement on whether you've lived up to who you want to be is super uncomfortable.

Day 2: Forgiveness

This morning my patience was tested.

I was doing good on the morning routine. Lunches in progress, snuggling babies, plenty of time to get ready for school. 

I got Eddie up.

I got Eddie up again.

I got Eddie up again.

At 7:30 Eddie was still dragging and I yelled. 

“GET UP! YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL.”

Andrew looked at me. “Mom, you broke your lent. That was a rude voice.”

My heart sank. 24 hours in an I had yelled. I felt bad. I also felt the urge to justify.

“He’s not moving. He’s going to be late from school. I needed to prompt him to get going? Is there another way I could have done it?”

“You’re right, Andrew. I’m sorry.”

Later…

I had a long drive to visit our manufacturer for an on-site audit. During the hour ride, I decided to take a crack at responding to an email I had gotten a few days ago.

It was an apology.

It was one of those situations that get us all twisted up. It was broken. Dysfunctional. The kind of situation we sweep under the rug and forget about. And yet, years later…. An apology arrives in my inbox and I am invited to respond.

Emotions swept over me.

“What should I say? How much grace do I extend? Do I also need to apologize? What about all the things... what about the whole mess left by this thing...”

My mind oscillated between a gentle grace-filled response that I can take following a time of healing and a time in the past when I was angry and hurt. We hadn’t spoken. I had so many words that I had gone around in my mind since that time…and now I had an email to boil it all down and send her a response.

I thought about how I had yelled at Eddie and my self-justification for my actions and my apology.

I gave her the benefit of grace. She was in a particular place and time. She had justifications and excuses for the things she had done. But, she had courage. She wrote a note and apologized. I took time to find kind words and apologize for my own contributions to our strained relationship.

Forgiveness is hard. It’s hard to apologize. It’s hard to forgive.

Day 1: Bootcamp

Lent has been a punch in the face this year.

Last week I was sick with a high fever for 7 days which broke just in time for me to walk into a 4 day grueling audit of our manufacturing systems.

Randomly, I got a note from someone with whom my relationship is severely broken requesting forgiveness and a favor. 

I got another note inviting me to collaborate on a project that opens me to vulnerablity.

I got another note expressing gratitude for sharing my lenten journey in the past and looking forward to sharing it again this year.

And my eldest son couldn't sleep because he was afraid about what it would be like when eventually he will die.

Ok, God, you have my attention. I'm not sure what you are up to but I sense you have some hard lessons for me to swallow this year.

I wrestled with what I might give up or add to my life  in response to God's invitation to work hard on my heart. 

Here's what I came up with.

Flavored beverages: this includes caffeine but more it is a need I have to get small happiness throughout the day by lovely flavorful drinks.  Plain water is so boring in comparison but it is a constant reflection that my joy springs from deeper sources.

No yelling or nagging: I want to set aside my own agenda and put on a robe of patience with my family.  It is easy to slip from guiding everyone along a path of growth to pushing everyone to respond to my needs and lack of self control.

Early morning work: This is the hardest.  I typically get up at 5 and head out to work.  The 2-3 hour session in the morning is so focused and I can get nearly a full days work done.  I'm giving this up as a recognition that work and productivity are not my top priority in life. Living into my call certainly calls for an amount of productivity but it also calls for a depth of soul.

During these days,  my meditation is on the things of the soul and the path that God is calling me to.

Not gonna lie,  I arrived to this day kicking and screaming. I don't want to do the hard work of reconciliation or vulnerability.  I would much rather be productive and in charge with my diet coke in hand. So,  this sucks.  But it's lent.... the promise and the joy buried somewhere in the journey is deeper than the things I leave behind.