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.