Day 30: could have used some caffeine today

After the 1st few days of adjusting,  I haven't really missed caffeine that much. I've missed the ritual of drinking good drinks. I've missed those quiet few minutes quite a bit.  But the caffeine was just a fun bump in energy. 

Until today...

Zander has new teeth coming in and a cold on top of that.  I was up all night.  Like watching shows and playing trains up. 

I knew I was going to be tired.  I had a lot on my to do list, but no caffeine to erase the sleepless night. 

I was not productive today.  On the couch with a cranky baby, thinking about my list. 

I'm naturally am ambitious kind of person.  I'll make my first to do list then I'll figure out how to add 3 more things.  Having children has been a long lesson in unproductivity. Children need me to be present.  They need my mind open and curious.  They need me not to be preoccupied with other thoughts.  This is hard for me. 

Some days after a full mothering day,  I look at a messy house and un-finished  to do list and wonder what I did with myself. 

I grew up placing a lot of value on hard work,  good grades,  doing all the right things and generally achieving things.  I feel unequipped for how to process activities that are deeply valuable and important but far from practical.  I've had to teach myself,  there are better things.  I've had to teach myself how to be unproductive. 

No caffeine means I can't artificially increase my energy and power through a day when I'm actually just exhausted.  

God values me for who I am,  simply.  I don't need to do all the things. Tomorrow is a new day,  my list will be there.  Tonight, I'll just be. 

Day 29: Longing

Faith has been a central part of my identity since before I could remember. One of my earliest memories was being jealous that adults got to have snack with God, but I couldn't. 

As I grew,  I felt so sure that God was with me wherever I went.  God was a 3rd parent,  invisible,  ever present. I had a boldness and knew what my call was and was determined to follow it. 

Then one day,  it all crashed.  I felt God leave and the certainty that defined my entire life disappeared.  I prayed and prayed. It was like knocking on a hard thick wooden door. No answer.  

I stayed steady with the call. I followed the plan in blind faith. Reminding myself that blessed are those who believe even if they do not see.  Still, though,  I prayed.  I wanted to feel God near me again.  I wanted faith to illuminate the day in and day out of my living. 

And one day,  I felt God working in my life again. I knew with deep certainty that I was in the right place and doing what I was called to do.  And in that moment,  my call changed. Nervous,  I turned my life in a new direction trying to get my head around a new call.  This one was fuzzy.  It wasn't as clear as my previous chapter in life has been.  It wasn't as exciting either. But in faith,  I changed course and took each day at at time watching a new call unfold in my life. 

As I did,  God's presence seemed to fade out of my life. My faith didn't, but the certainty that God was close by in a way I could tangibly feel.  For a long time I've been praying to feel that presence again but so far God is distant. 

I've read that Mother Theresa and other people of great faith have had similar experiences. Faith as a practice,  as a commitment,  as a way of living even if the feeling is far away. I have grown in faith because of it.  I have had to depend on scripture and faith practices to learn and grow. I've had to learn to trust God was present among us even when we can't perceive it. 

Still,  there is a longing.  I look for God's footprints and fingerprints wherever I go. And Lent is a time when I can often attune myself better to the rhythms of grace.  

Day 28: counting to infinity

My kids are into big numbers. "What's bigger than a trillion? What's bigger than a Googol? What's bigger than a Googolplex? How far away is the moon,  the sun,  the center of our galaxy, the farthest star we can see?" 

YouTube has a hugecatalog of videos that count to infinity and visualize how big these numbers are.  We've watched so many of them.  They also like to watch videos that help you imagine what a 4 dimension object passing through our 3 dimensional space might look like. These videos can make my brain hurt as I try to bend my limited world perspective to wrap around things much bigger or smaller or in more dimensions.  My brain begins to hurt.  There is so much that exists that I cannot interact with or truly understand. It's just too big or too small or outside my perception. 

"As far as the east is from the west, so are my ways from your ways. "

"With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day."

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was, and who is to come. The Almighty"

“From heaven the Lord looks down and sees all mankind; from his dwelling place he watches all who live on earth…”

Thinking about an infinite God, heaven or eternity can't feel like standing at the edge of an abyss that is so deep you can't see to the bottom.  It becomes obscured by a blackness as the light is swallowed up in the largeness. It is a dizzying feeling and I slowly back away.  

The universe is so vast and has been around for so long, and yet what we know of size and time is dwarfed next to the infinite nature of God. This hurts my mind. 

But somehow it is comforting.  Whenever I feel like I have a hard time understanding God or faith or the mysteries of faith, I am comforted by how big and far into the universe, we as humans can understand and how much bigger still is the nature of God.  

In my daily life I tend to picture God as some disembodied human type being.  Maybe some old man in the clouds. On more enlightened days, I think of God as wind,  everywhere at once touching everyone but invisible. Or light that comes from some far corner of the universe and reaches me as warmth and illumination. But these are imaginations of God within  point of reference that I can get my head around. 

God is bigger still than the most infinite abstractions that I can conjur up in my imagination. 

And so Jesus.  A man, with a mother who ate and drank and wept and flipped over tables.  A bridge to connect humanity with the infinite nature of God. Jesus spoke with stories and shared food around tables.  And yet,  Jesus was enigmatic. As much as I can hold Jesus in my imagination,  He escapes my ability to know him really.  His words,  his life,  his stories.  There are these twists and bits that don't fully resolve that point to the eternal,  unknowable nature of God. 

As I scratch my head and wonder, my mind lands back as the famous words of Paul, 1 Corinthians 13:

For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes,what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Day 27: Taming mama bear

I have a Lent project to increase my gentleness with my family - reduce sarcasm,  yelling, losing control,  losing patience.  I had enough foresight to know that I would fail if I claimed to give up these things full stop.  Rather,  I decided to bring my awareness to myself and note the times that I didn't act how I wanted to with my kids or husband. 

I learned something about myself. 

The most common situation where I don't act as I desire is when one of my kids hurts another one physically or emotionally.  I realize that there's a mama bear inside that is visceral and roars whenever one of my babies gets hurt.  Oh course these are small hurts and so they are also small roars.  But it is really hard to stop and think and choose my course of action intentionally in these situations.  

I have an instinct to protect my Littles.  

How do you rewire instinct? 

Should I even try? 

Some things are deep in our human nature.  

Hunger, sex, bonding with our babies,  breastfeeding, gaining our independence from our parents. Some of these tenancies are seen as virtuous,  others sinful,  still others neutral that can bend either way. 

Being a strong mama bear is generally considered a good thing.  I advocate for my children.  I protect them.  I love them fiercely.  But the flip side is that instinct causes me to loose touch with my rational brain for a moment and I'm not the person I want to be while a burst of fight or flight surges through me.  

For now,  I'm focusing on drawing my awareness to patterns to search for ways to rewrite my script and leaning into grace for the rest.  

Day 26: 5 stages of all- you- can- eat

Andrew decided to buy a date with mom to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet with a goal to trying new foods.  

His eyes were wide as we toured the buffet tables, hungry and eager to try everything.  After the grand tour,  he grabbed a plate and had to make the big decision of where to start. 

He headed to the table with the heavy plate overcome with excitement. He tried this and that.  We talked about what was good.  What wasn't.  What he should get more of. He started slowing down.  Tried some deserts and then slowly rolled back in his chair with that post- Thanksgiving face staring up at a large TV on the wall. A few minutes later,  he looked sick.  He was almost in pain as we walked to the car.  "Why didn't you tell me about this part. " he mumbled.  I told him the stomach pain would ease,  then he would get sleepy,  then,  surprisingly,  he would get the munchies. 

It's easy to go too far - work too much,  sleep in too long,  over eat. The meter slips from not enough to just a bit more to omg way too much in just a few bites. Andrew's naive 1st go round at the buffet is funny because we've all been there.  I was cracking up all day watching him and pondering this near universal human experience. 

It felt like a sermon. Such a clear simple peek into human nature. 

By the time you reach my age,  you've learned the ropes of a buffet place and generally manage to leave without quite so much pain (though you still don't want to have an honest review of the calories). As we get older,  we learn both how to moderate and how to suppress bad feelings that come from overeating.  We don't wear it on our sleeves quite the way Andrew did today. 

Kids are such a great mirror.  They are like the exaggerated version of all my inside feelings.  Day didn't go right,  lay down on the floor and have a full tantrum. Some one takes my toy,  punch them in the face and take it back.  There is an honesty to their human nature that makes it easy to see what needs correcting. 

So we are taught. 

I think we focus a lot on fixing behaviors so that we don't get in trouble rather than working on the root. I've definitely come a long way from where I was a a toddler but I'm still working on keeping my emotions in check, loving my neighbor as myself, sharing and saying nice things,  taking care of nature and cleaning up messes that I make.... and remembering not to eat so much that it hurts if I go to a really good buffet. 

God,  help me see myself simply.  Help me to recognize my inner child and show her grace.  Help me to work on my inside as much as I work on the outside so I can be transparent as a child. 

Amen.

Day 25: Living out of God's abundance

For our new years resolution we started a habit tracking app with the kids called habitica.  It's a video game that you play by doing chores.  The more you do,  the more you level up in the app. 

One aspect of the game is the ability to earn gold coins which you can use to buy new armor and weapons for your character.  You can also use the coins to "buy" a real life reward. 

We've used the coins as a way for kids to buy special things - a snack during homework, an outing to a restaurant,  king for the day,  sleepover on the couch bed, etc.  I come up with creative ideas and assign them a coin value and the kids get excited to see rewards show up. 

This past week was the school book fair.  I added "book fair purchase" into the app store.  I told the kids they could buy anything they wanted, they just needed to add a zero to the price.  I told them we would go to the fair on Friday and they would have the week to look around and think about what they wanted to buy. 

Friday came and the boys rushed into the book fair. They went straight for the cheap doodads - pens, erasers, stuff like that.  I browsed the books and watched them shopping.  

Eventually,  Philip came up to me with tears.  He wanted to buy a dogman book,  but he didn't want to spend his coins.  He had saved 1,000 coins.  The book would have cost him 100, but it felt like too much.  So he left with just a pen. I was there with him. I could have bought any book. I was proud of his thriftyness. But I also thought about my life.  If I knew God was walking around with me with enough resources for anything in my heart,  would I still choose a pen?

What would we choose if we leaned into God's abundance? What would we do with our time?  Money? Heart? 

I feel like sometimes I get stuck in small thinking.  I don't even go for the books... thinking they are out of reach...I chose a nice pen and call it good enough. 

If I could see God walking with me,  I know I would live more generously.  I would make different choices about how I spend my time and my money.  

Day 24: Faith and anxiety

I struggle with anxiety at night. 

When my mind is awake and I'm going about my day,  my brain is relatively in control.  I've worked hard on mental health and gathered a lot of tools to support emotional agility.  But, at night,  as I power down my brain,  the part of me that is in charge of the ship punches out and my unruly thoughts can spin out of control. Sometimes this leads to insomnia or anxiety or full panic attacks.

I've noticed that the intensity tends to be seasonal and I have the hardest time in the months leading up to my birthday and to the new year when I'm more reflective about life - purpose, aging,  etc - and less in busier seasons of spring and fall. 

Laying off caffeine this lenten season has had the wonderful side effect of causing me to fall asleep faster.  That,  combined with the onset of spring and I've had almost perfect nights (well except for a baby who won't sleep 🙄)

But a few nights ago, my mind fell into one of those grooves and I had to work through it.  

I was disappointed.  

Lent has been pretty spiritually enriching this year. I haven't made any amazing revelations or anything but I have felt moments of God drawing near.  Writing this blog as journal every night has felt, like it always does,  as a very intentional practice of reflecting on God in that very day and moment.  So how could I go from that directly to anxious thoughts as I fall asleep?

I've been thinking about this over the past few days and the role anxiety plays in my spiritual life. 🤔 

I have two big thoughts on the matter:

1. My uninhibited thoughts at night can be a signpost for where I need to further work on my faith. 

2. Anxiety is not a failure of faith but an invitation to choose faith even when I can't access it in the moment.  

A few of my boys inherited my insomnia and I've been helping them to work through night time thoughts and ways to relax to sleep.  

Middle of the night thoughts are hard. But there is no place where God does not rest with us.  

Day 23: making the garden grow

Maybe two weeks ago,  the chickens got into my greenhouse and ate most of my seedlings. I felt like giving up on a garden this year.  The chickens have ruthlessly destroyed any edible plant in my backyard.

I've been at war with the chickens for a few months.  I bought a gate to confine them to a smaller part of the yard.  They promptly flew over it. Attempt after attempt.  Chicken escape.  Chicken droppings all over my yard.  

Finally, I found a tall foldable fence that was long enough to make a secure pen in a smaller section of the yard reclaiming my garden and backyard play area. In celebration,  I went to the nursery and bought a few new plants and started some new seedlings in my greenhouse. 

The weather here has turned warm.  Tuesday was 84 degrees. The boys stripped to their underwear and played in the hose. I worked the soil.

Gardening is an endless hobby.  There is so much to learn about each plant. Sun,  water,  soil, pruning -- where to plant what and how to care for the garden and keep everything alive.  Ideally with nice flowers and fruits.  I pick up some tidbits from books, some from YouTube with the kids and conversations with other gardeners.  But if I'm going to be honest,  most knowledge comes from experiments, mistakes and failed attempts.  

I'm on my 3rd (and final) attempt with berries. The sun here is too intense and it scorched my first bush.  I planted my second bush in the shade under my giant pine tree.  It did much better there.  It lasted several years but never thrived enough to produce more than a few fruit.  It was in a bed with succulents, so I suspect that it didn't get enough water. This time,  I've planted to new fruit trees in a semi shaded area.  It is  protected from the harshest sun and I'm setting up a watering system to baby the new fruit trees and help them get established.  Maybe the berries can come along for the ride. 

Gardening is full of many small disappointments and joys. Plants that take off and fill the space with vibrant green.  Seeds that fail to germinate in pots.  Flowers that paint the landscape.  A favorite friend that gets attacked by insects.  I am so fully aware of a partnership I have with nature.  I have to do my part to care for the plants. But life will grow and choose its own path.  I contribute but I cannot will my garden to thrive.  

I am humbled by the amazing complexity that God has arranged in a normal garden.  Microscopic bacteria and fungi that interact with elements and minerals in the soil.  Larger creatures,  worms, ants, roly-polys, Bees and butterflies play roles almost as large as mine in the care and future success of the plants.  Other plants,  air,  water,  sun,  shade.... even the chicken poop all contribute to the success of raising tiny seeds into a vegetable harvest. 

God calls us to be interdependent.  Each playing our own role in life's garden. I may plant seeds.  I may do my best to nurture growth in myself and others.  I may even be cleaver enough to crash some sort of watering system to make sure my life's work gets ongoing nurturing, but I'm just one of many who work together to help the garden grow. Even for my 5 boys. 

I'm sitting in their room as they fall asleep and I think of all the people that God has brought into our life to nurture their little selves - extended family, grandparents, teachers,  therapists, friends,  strangers.  Moments that help make them.  Year after year,  I do my work as a mother.  Pruning,  watering, feeding,  and observing. Striving to understand them as best as I can.  Striving to maintain an environment that will help them thrive.  But without all those other amazing people they surely wouldn't be doing as well as they are. 

I get so caught up in my own story,  I often overlook the complex interdependent web of players that build this amazing world we live in.  It's mind numbing when you think about all the people that make each day of our lives possible - construction workers who build our houses and roads. engineers who design everything we touch,  truckers who bring us stuff and food,  water treatment,  energy workers,  doctors,  mail carriers,  grocers. We don't do any of this alone. We all have our part to play. 

And God is there in the relationship,  in the interdependence in the messy hand off and trade off that we all are trying to figure out to make life work. God helps us come together so the garden can thrive. 

May I find and do my small part. Amen.  

Day 22: finding courage to shine a little light

I was 26. Just started dating my husband.  It was Lent.  An acquaintance from church invited us to watch each of the Harry Potter movies throughout the lenten season.  Over that time,  we became good friends.  We had faith sharing,  life sharing moments.  

Fast-forward a few years.  We had moved to Livermore. I was knee deep in house renovations. A close friend asked me if I'd be a duala to help welcome her baby girl.  Honored,  I agreed. Some weeks later, my Harry Potter asked if I would come to her wedding just a few days from m my other friend's due date. My insides ached.  If there was a moment to be in two places at once.  Maybe the baby would come early and I could make both events. 

I was so excited about the wedding.  I painted a picture for the bulletin.  I wanted so bad to be there. 

The day drew close and the baby came right on time.  That birth was one of the most beautiful things I had ever witnessed.  But my heart fell as the wedding day came, right on its heals. I got a call from the bride and realized that she didn't have a wedding party really but a few close friends with her.... one of whom should have been me. 

Years have passed.  We both had babies,  professional and personal adventures. We grew up.  We grew apart.  I followed her on Facebook. Deep in my heart,  I always carried guilt about missing her wedding. I could find words to say.  I wasn't sure there were any.  

One day during the lockdown of 2020, my phone rang. My friend's bright voice on the other side. We ranted about having kids home all the time and work and the craziness of the pandemic. And time erased.  Guilt erased.  In a lonely time,  I had a friend.  We met up and traveled together with our families over the summer. We had an epic adventure.  Our kids climbed rock formations in the badlands and we barbecued on the open prairie. Her calls were a priceless gift that unlocked beautiful memories for both of us and our families. 

Life is so busy and everyone has so much on their to do list I find it intimidating to pick up the phone and call someone.  It feels intrusive.  How could I possibly time a phone call when someone would actually have time to talk. Social media is way easier.  I can look at photos of what they've been up to and not have awkward conversations.  I can make uplifting comments after reading and rereading posts. Facebook even nearly reminds me of birthdays. 

Social media doesn't do what my friend did. She called.  I didn't really have time to talk at that moment. The kids were running amuck. But I locked myself away and stole time for her call.  I needed it,  like water. 

Every time I think of her,  I feel brave.  I feel like fighting for friendship and connection.  I feel like guilt or being busy are just not good enough reasons to stop trying.  I can brighten someone's day by reaching out.  So today,  I did that.  I wrote a card.  I texted a former work colleague.  I walked with another mom from my kids school.  I messaged with my cousin about her upcoming wedding.

It's easy to shy away from shining a light.  It's easy to say "it won't matter anyways" or "they might not want to hear from me" It's a little scary and a little vulnerable to open the lines for connection.  It leaves the possibility of rejection. 

But the world needs our light. 

It needs connection. 

It needs us to be brave. 

Even just a little. 

Day 21: Can we be done with Lent yet?

It's Monday. I got up and started the usual routine.  Got kids ready for school. Packed lunches.  Dropped everyone off. Inside,  I felt fragmented.  I didn't have a clear plan for the week,  just a lot of random to do that needed to be planned into the week. 

I looked forward to sitting at the dining room table in a quiet house to write out a week plan. I'm an avid bullet journalist.  Bullet journals mix art and planning as you doodle custom pages for to do lists,  goal tracking and visual notes.  For me,  accessing the free form creative side of my brain while planning allows me to be in touch with the bigger picture.... and to be honest,  it's the only art I have time to attempt to make. 

Zander and I arrived home and he immediately threw a fit almost to say, "Mooooooooom, it's so nice out.  We neeeeeeeeed to go to the park. " So,  I threw my journal and pens on top of the stroller, grabbed some headphones and we jogged to the park.

The park was empty.  Zander got busy running a loop around the playground.  I sat on a bench and pulled out my journal.  Almost on cue, Zander came up to me and whined to be picked up.  We played a bit and I packed him in the stroller and we headed off for groceries. 

Another jog and a stroller loaded down with produce later,  we arrived home.  Zander was asleep so my chance to plan in peace had arrived. I went to the stroller.  Gone.  My journal was gone.  I must have left it at the park.  

There wasn't enough time to get it before I picked up Miles,  so I got some house work and gardening done.

Inside my thoughts and emotions whirled.  I felt confused,  lost.  It wasn't about the week plan.  It was Lent.  Sometimes around the mid point I start feeling a little lost and today,  that feeling hit me,  right on time.  With my missing planner, emblematically serving as a cornerstone to the day. 

The world felt so big to me.  It felt like to much effort to do all the things - build a home,  build community,  serve the poor, donate,  give.  I felt called to something more than what I'm doing but all the more that is out there feels too big and I my time is so broken up by the demands of motherhood that I feel like couldn't give enough.  I felt ashamed.  I know there should be more. But how,  where,  what???

I always hope that I'll have a lenten discipline and do all the right things and God would just come down out of the sky and give me a mission or an orientation on how I should be viewing my life.  

But no... that's not how God usually works. That's not how Lent works.  Jesus fasted 40 days in the wilderness.  He was hungry.  The devil came with short cuts to faith.  Jesus saw through it. 

Faith isn't always clear or easy.  Sometimes it is wandering around blindly while we're over hungry and over tired only to emerge in the same place where we started. Faith is definitely not linear.  

So tonight,  when I'm not sure of where I'm going or what I'm doing or what this Lent is teaching me.  I'll pray the words of st Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:

where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy.

O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek

to be consoled as to console,

to be understood as to understand,

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive,

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

Day 20: Going home

My family moved a lot growing up and didn't settle into the family house until I was 16 and heading out the door.  For me,  the memory of home was wherever my family was.  

I felt comfortable in a lot of places and when I traveled in my early 20s, I felt at home in Haiti and West Africa.  I was different and out of place but not really any more than I had been my whole life and in some ways those places etched into the geography of my heart in a special way because they were the places that I became me.  Where I became independent and formed my view of the world.  

Then,  I moved to Davis,  California and the whole town wrapped around me and cradled me.  For the first time in my life,  I found community.  I was among my people and I belonged.  Those days gave the word home a new definition.  It was the place you just belonged. 

Fast forward 10 years.  

We moved to Livermore and started out family.  I searched for community the way we had it in Davis, but it was elusive. We fixed up an old house and hung our pictures on the wall. We had children.  We started out business. More babies came.  The ebbs and flows of life.  Ups and downs.  I've lived here longer than anywhere.  And found another meaning for home.  It is the place you make life happen.  The place that fills your memories. 

I still call Michigan home when people ask.  My family is still there. My roots are there.  It is the wilderness that I grew up with.  The plants and animals are more deeply known.  Home is the place you know inside and out.

We bought this old house as a starter home when it was just the two of us and Eddie.  We've grown a lot as a family since then and we're pushing the limits of this small house. We've been thinking about eventually moving.  Maybe to the country where there is more space for these puppies of mine to run free.  But the process has gotten me thinking about what type of place is home. 

With all the years that have changed us,  would Davis still be home to us or was it only for that season? Is this house become a home with memories so deep that we should just stay here?  Is there a new place out there that has all these elements of home...a place where we will just fit?

I noticed in church how often we talk of God taking us home.  How one day in death,  we will finally be home. I imagine this home.... the place where our family is,  where we belong,  where things are familiar and comfortable, the place where we will be longer than anywhere else.

One day, we all go home. 

Day 19: The effort to make community

My heart was torn all day. I woke up this morning to a message that there was a celebration of life service for a woman from my congregation that had passed away during the lockdown of 2020. It must have been in church bulletins, but I missed it. 

I had known her, not well, but I had sent a card when she went home on hospice.  I received a card back from her a day or two before she passed. 

She was heavily involved with the church.  I think she led the worship committee.  So,  when I heard about the celebration of life service,  I knew the congregation would all be there. 

With short notice, I thought about going and wondered what to do with the kids. I struggled all morning and eventually decided not to go.  But my heart felt heavy all day. Being far from home, I've missed too many weddings and funerals in my extended family. I'm from a really large catholic family and it isn't tenable for me to make everything. 

Here,  in Livermore,  I've been in the throws of raising young children and most of the time working excessive hours. Squeezed so tight, I've had very little to invest into community building. 

All day my heart has been at church,  holding a vigil for the woman who passed,  feeling grief for her passing,  for the funerals I've missed,  for the community sized hole that I've had in my heart the past many years.  In that space,  I've pondered community and the role it plays in our life and in our faith walk.  I've thought about the energy you need to put in,  the messy nature of human relationships,  the unhurried speed that you need to have to open yourself to the rhythm of community.  In so many ways, community is counter cultural to the mainstream way we are expected to live.  It made sense to me why so many churches are in decline. 

And yet,  the hole in my heart reminded me why we need community now more than ever. 

The triune God demonstrates that living in relationship is a part of God's nature and essence.  As created in God's image,  we too are meant to live in relationship.  

But it means dying to self. Taking time out of our schedule to show up.  Taking effort and energy,  patience and forgiveness.  

I don't know quite how to do it but I want to.  I am not giving up. 

Day 18: miles walks so slow

Every day when I walk miles to school,  I have to pull him to the side so that others can pass.  He floats along like a balloon meandering from place to place eventually drifting haphazardly to his destination.  

I used to be bothered by slowness.  Bothered by the inconvenience it caused others that were trying to pass or the lack of productivity.  I like to get things done. I like to check things off my list.  You can't get a lot out of your day when you are daydreaming and floating down the street. 

But miles has taught me the gentle way of slow moving. There is a place for it,  even for hurried go getters like me.  

At the start of the year I made the contious decision to let him go at his own pace and we'd get there when we get there (within reason). He doesn't like conversation really so we don't talk much.  But I look at what he looks at and try to be present with him. 

I don't think about much while we're walking but something in my deeper brain must click into place or defrangment or something. Because the slowness and maybe more importantly,  the permission to be slow starts me day with an openness to be touched or changed or greeted by God and by my work and by the world.  It opens me to some sort of possibility that is outside my plan. 

There is a season to get things done.

But there also is a time to be unhurried. 

One of so many beautiful lessons that Miles has taught me. 

Day 17: a huge hole in my heart

When I was little,  my biggest dream was to be a researcher studying the Amazon rainforest. I was obsessed . I think,  I was drawn to the place because life was so abundant there.  Life in every crack and crevasse. Unique creatures of a million varieties,  each with a special role to play. 

This morning I woke up to morning news and texts...

Bombing children in Ukraine

Amazon rainforest close to tipping point,  showing signs of turning into Savanah

A text from an alcoholic friend who is struggling

I've often heard that the word repent is to turn away from,  to go the other direction. My heart has been heavy all day with a conviction that the world needs more repentance. 

In pondering this, I started thinking about my own relationship with repentance.  Truth be told I get squirmy.  I was raised catholic until around 3rd grade.  Long enough to have my first confession.  My small self sat in a pretty sunlit chapel waiting for my turn to see the priest wreaking my brain to think of something wrong I had done and needed to confess. 

As I got older,  I grew a bit of distaste for the way the church speaks of sins and repentance on one hand and grace on the other.  It is a dialog full of shame.  A condemnation that humans are completely unworthy,  unlovable.  But God somehow in his grand majesty finds a way to pity and love us anyway.  All because Jesus died.  

This picture of God never landed quite right with me.  How could God make us bad? How could God make us unlovable but then call us his children? Does a father not see his children as inherently good? 

But just today,  as I was pondering the news and the terrible things happening in the world and the verse "the wages of sin is death" a new way of thinking about this story came to mind.

For the past few weeks,  I've been listening to Brene Brown's book called "Imperfect Parenting." The first section goes on a deep dive on the difference between guilt and shame and the use of shame as a parenting tool.  Turns out that shame is a very effective parenting tool in terms to getting your child to alter their behavior.  The problem is that shame in childhood can stay with someone for a lifetime.  Shame dims our light and cuts our wings.  

When shame tells you that you are unworthy and unlovable, guilt tells you that you are a good person who has made a bad choice.   Shame is saying, "You are stupid.  You're worthless." Guilt is "that was a really bad choice, your actions have ruined the evening. "

Coming back to repentance,  it is what you hope for your children.  You see them doing something destructive and you let them know about it and they choose a different path.  

"The wages of sin are death"

Thinking about the 10 Commandments, the ground rules, they are a simple guide to a harmonious life on earth.  All the death that echoed out of my radio this morning are the result of greed. And as I listened, I was convicted that I have things to repent for. 

I'm not outright greedy.  I don't feel shame about greed. But the simple truth is we are taking more than the earth has to give.  We are wasteful.  We waste energy and water and stuff.  Life is full of convenience and disposable items. We are collectively making bad choices. We need to turn around.  We need to go the other direction.  I need to look in my heart and find those moments when I'm prioritizing myself and my convenience at the expense of others or of the earth.  I need to get more comfortable with seeing myself in step with others and nature - getting less irritated by minor inconvenience or not having the exact right thing for the moment. Simpler living. 

It is hard to watch your friends,  your children,  your spouse or your family make bad choices.  But, we cannot control them.  We cannot force them to make good choices. They have free will. And so do we. God will let us follow destructive paths. But God has decided it doesn't have to end with our destructive choices. God calls us to turn around, to turn away from our own ways and choose God's ways. 

Peeling back more and more of myself is hard,  but our world needs us to do the hard work. I trust God to walk with me as I try to take steps in a new direction.   

Day 16: A big leap of faith

A few months ago, a close friend gave me an assignment that made me squirm. 

She asked me to ask five different people for help for things that I didn't need help with. 

I am fiercely independent by nature. Asking for help when I need help and having grace to accept help is something I've learned over the years.  But asking for help,  when I don't need help -- I found myself really uncomfortable. 

Frivolous help.  Like help when carrying groceries when I can easily carry them myself.  Why would I ever do that? Even more over,  why would I go out of my way and call people,  bother them in the middle of their day to waste their time helping me with something that I don't even need help with.  

I had to scratch my brain hard.  What could I even come up with to ask?  Did I even have 5 people that I could just call out of the blue and ask a favor of. 

The exercise took a few weeks. It was a bit uncomfortable. But I am a go getter, so when someone challenges me with something that I think is worth doing,  I'm going to figure out a way to do it.

I learned a lot from the exercise about myself and other people.  I challenged my own hidden rules after I discovered they were there.  It was a good exercise. 

The exercise inspired me to start thinking about reaching out for more help with faith.  I've very rarely asked for help with emotional or spiritual matters.  I'm a "I've got it" kind of girl. But I've realized more and more that I find God most present with me in relationship with other people.  Their stories,  affirmations, ideas, faith strengthen me in powerful ways. But to deliberately ask someone for help with my faith walk is a sort of vulnerable that makes me very squirmy inside. 

And the spirit nudges... you totally need to do this. 

So,  I got brave and I wrote an email.

 

Day 15: when a balanced life is elusive

I was listening to "The next right thing" a podcast by Emily P Freeman about making decisions and finding your next step in life.  The episode was a meditation on finding balance inspired by the coming spring equinox. The day is equal parts day and night,  light and dark. 

She talks about a science experiment you can do where you calculate the angle of the sun and at solar noon during the equinox there is a moment when a stick will have no shadow.  I don't know if the experiment works but it was a good illustration of what balance feels like in my life. Twice a year,  on some random Tuesday or Friday afternoon for about a minute,  everything is in perfect balance.  The rest of the time I'm a little off centered.  Sometimes I'm really off centered, like the poles during summer - all light or all dark. 

I feel a lot of pressure from society to stay in balance, but life doesn't seem to work that way.  It's full of stops and starts, seasons of work or play,  planning and reflexion. When I feel like I've gone too far in one direction, I feel a tug to pull the other direction. After a season of feasting during Christmas, I'm craving a season of fasting as I start Lent.  

Balance doesn't happen every day but rather over a lifetime. 

Though,  I think what people are craving when they talk about a balanced life is being right in the place where they belong.  When I'm stressed about the lack of balance in my life it usually stems from not meeting expectations - either my own or someone else's of who I should be or what I should be doing with my life.  I need to fit in All. The. Things. When I don't,  I have failed at some part of life. I'm a workaholic or lazy.  I'm too involved with my kids or not involved enough.  Not having balance can become a source of shame.  

But I think I need to remind myself that life has seasons.  And if I'm in a season of work,  that's OK. Sometimes we are called to seasons of work.  

The best news is that God is with us when we are completely off kilter. God can rest with us in our seasons of extremes and can gentlely call us back to center when we go too far.  And for those of us who have a tendancy to keep going,  even after that gentle reminder to turn around,  and we crash.  God is there in that moment too. Extending grace and compassion.  

Day 14: hormones suck

I had so many feelings today - sadness, irritation, frustration, despair- bubbling below the surface as I went about my day.  I tried to pay attention.  

"What's going on?" I ask myself as I clean the kitchen.  

It wasn't until I sat down to write this blog in the quiet that I begin to wonder if the culprit may be hormones. Damn biology.   God and I will have a conversation about this one day. 

It reminds me that I am a creature bound by my biology.  There are so many practices that can help me elevate my mind and develop inner calm. I can rely on God for my future and trust God with my present. Sometimes faith has an emotional component.  Sometimes,  faith is a commitment to set emotions aside. 

The spirit connected to the heart,  the heart connected to the mind and the mind connected to the body and the body limited by biology. 

I think of Jesus.  Limitless.  Timeless.  Infinite.  Choosing limits as a baby with all the messy complication that comes with being a biological being - including hormones and emotions and a cracking adolescent voice. 

God folded up and limited by the all the same things that limit us. 

I can't even begin to get my head around this but it helps me to accept these human moments with a bit more self- compassion, grace and even detached cognition.  I am not what I feel in this moment. I can choose to give myself space and know that tomorrow I will not feel this way.

I can do that,  but I'm still going to have a chat with God about some of the design choices. 🧐

Day 13: saying a rosary for Ukraine

 
I've heard mention several times over that few weeks that praying of the rosary for Ukraine and the wheels in my head started turning. I've been pondering it for a while now and all of my catholic friends, I invite your commentary as I don't know this practice very well. 

I have a rosary hanging over a picture of me with my grandma.  She was a devout catholic and I received it from her when she passed away.  Occasionally I'll touch it and look at the picture and think of her.  I'll remember her faith. 

I grew up Lutheran.  We don't do rosaries.  But I went to church enough with grandma to learn my hail Mary's and glory bes. I remember grandma saying rosary for someone who died or someone who was sick.  I think she did it for no reason at all,  just for the practice. 

So as I've been listening to the news and hearing talk of rosary prayers for Ukraine, I see the image of grandma with the chain above my head nestled between her fingers. 

What I've been pondering about this is the idea of saying rosary for something specific. The prayers recited in the rosary are not words that make a particular request.  There isn't space for a "God be with so and so." You repeat prayers that come from scripture in a cycle as you move your fingers from bead to bead. To me,  it has felt like a meditation. Listening to the same words again and again to allow yourself to be open to the mystery of God. 

I decided to look up the wiki page on the history of the rosary to see if I could learn better how you might do it if you are aiming to pray for something specific. I was fascinated by the history and breadth of practice.  But what was most profound,  was the steadfast timelessness that is connected to the practice. 

God is always with us.  When the world is going to shit. When we edge near to death.  God is there.  When babies are born and we celebrate a wedding.  God is there.  The rosary seems to draw us into a connection with the steadfast promise of God to be present in our darkness.  We don't need to pray specifically for God to be with so and so,  because God already is and in praying the rosary we find connection with pervasive presence of God.

I imagine churches filled with catholics saying rosary for the war in Ukraine and know that millions of people are mediating on the ever present spirit of God with us now and at the hour of our deaths.  And... it feels like a light shining in the darkness. 

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

Day 12: Daring to dream

It is a lot harder to truly dream at 40 than when I was 20. 

At 20 something I remember applying to jobs literally all over the globe.  Showing up in Davis with just a suitcase to start my life over.  I could go anywhere,  do anything. 

I got married and had our first baby and we found ourselves trying to figure out what was next.  We looked for jobs.  We applied places.  There was more to consider but still we had so much freedom. 

Years down the road.  There are kids to think about.  College,  parents, housing, a life with momentum.  I look at other families that up and move away for new job or to be closer to family and I feel overwhelmed.  How did they do that? How do you make a decision to change status quo?

20 year old me would shutter at my stiffness.  "You just do it. " I would tell myself. 

I've been on a slow road to change for several years now.  Fading out of the company I helped build.  Selling it. Pandemic.  Baby.  Life has definitely been in flux, but I have yet to find what I will be when I emerge from this metamorphosis. 

This Lent,  I've decided to be brave.  I've decided to become more intentional in seeking out my next call. I have no idea where this journey will lead me. It is absolutely terrifying and beautiful. There's going to be a whole lot of honesty with myself - honesty around comfort zones and faith and control and ego. There's going to be a whole lot of trying to let go and listen.  Some leaning in and looking for affirmation. 

A part of me wishes that this was as simple as getting on a plane and forgetting it out when I get there.  I think there is a richer tapestry of trust when it comes to letting God lead me when I have so many more pieces to arrange. But God is not far away. 

Have you ever had a "God moment" where you've sent a note to someone out of the blue only to get a response that they were going to send a note to you about that very thing? I've had a few "holy coincidences" like that lately that help me know I'm on the right journey.

Maybe after I seek and pray and listen I'll find out that I'm exactly where God wants me.  But I feel the nudge in my soul to open myself up to holy possibility. 

So.  Here I am.  

Day 11: being honest with myself

I finished listening to brene brown's book imperfect parenting. It's short,  only 2 hours,  abs quite good.  Though very similar to much of her other work.  

I was journaling this afternoon and wanted to remember all the key ideas from the book,  so I Googled hoping to find a summary. I stumbled upon her "wholehearted inventory. " 

Curious,  I decided to take the quiz. 

Before starting the quiz required me to check a box that I would answer the questions honestly for where I am today,  not where I hope to be tomorrow 

"OK. Honest.  100%. Let's read the first question"

Even when I feel good about what I have done, I notice when others have done things better. 

Face palm. Really, Brene? You gonna call me to the carpet that hard?

Honest. I'll be honest. Let's find out where my heart needs work.

The quiz was relatively short but it made me squirm a little. I felt like explaining and justifying.  But I was honest.  Considering the way I have felt / acted in the past 2 weeks. 

The results came back as a strong affirmation that indeed,  I'm working on the right things this Lent. 

The questions and the results gave me a lot to chew on.... and so Lent continues

. 

Day 10: How much do you trust God?

Deep in.  Many of our lenten practices are a dare to step out of our comfort zones and trust God with...

Over the course of Lent,  I learn exactly what I'm learning to trust God with. The year I gave up to do lists I learned that I was trusting God with my future .... then more deeply,  I learned I was trusting God with my self-worth letting go of productivity as a means of giving my life value. 

It wouldn't seem so big at first,  but 40 days is long enough to really struggle with the thing we crave,  we miss,  we want to do or don't want to do.  

One year,  I decided to cut my hair.  I hadn't cut my hair in years.  I loved my long hair.  As I decided to cut it,  I realized that I hid behind it.  Cutting it was to trust God with my hiding place. 

Reflect with me on your lenten practice...

Where do you feel exposed?

What are you letting go of?

What is hard about this practice?

What is making you squirm inside?

As we mediate on the answers, maybe we will find a stronghold that we should surrender.  Maybe we can start small.  Is there a baby step we can take? What small trust can we start with?

Day 9: Setting ground rules

 I've been binging a bit on parenting books.  Not intentionally. But something that has come up in the last 3 books I've read is the concept of house rules.  In particular,  house rules should be written,  not very many of them and everyone should follow them. 

In this house...

Our house has had rules and an unwritten culture of what's expected and what isn't.  But I've been thinking that the boys are old enough to help come up with a short list of rules that we should all abide by.  Stuff like not being mean and respecting each other.  I'm thinking we can brainstorm a list and narrow it down to 3-5 that we can discuss deeply - what the rules mean,  why we all want to live by them,  etc. 

The more I've been thinking about this,  the more I've been excited that a few simple rules may help me keep myself in check. I know my kids will call me out on things and I know they will think about areas where I need to improve my relationship with them as we write the rules together. 

Rules are interesting. They are both limiting and freeing.  They create boundaries and safety. In the case of rules that are decided on together,  they are the foundation of trust. 

I wonder if God decided to do the same thing with humanity. If coming up with a few "house rules" was God's way of helping to create a safe space for us. I've never thought of the 10 Commandments from God's perspective.  They've always just been the "most important rules" or "God's rules" but if I were parenting all of humanity a short list of rules to help keep the peace  among a couple billion relationships would be handy.  And thinking of it that way,  it's a pretty good list that if we could learn to follow we would avoid a lot of fight between siblings. 

Day 8: an unexpected footrub

Today I started reading (well,  listening) to brene brown book call imperfect parenting.  It's really more like a guide for how to live with grace as you fumble through this thing called raising kids. And really,  there would be way more books like it. 

There has been no other place that has revealed my humanity and brokenness to me quite like motherhood.  I can keep it together for work,  for school,  for church.... but motherhood is 24 hours a day with no breaks from the moment that 1st cry rings out for the rest of your life. I just can't keep my shit together ALL the time.  And yet,  I feel so much pressure to.  It is so important to do this right. 

So in listening to the book and walking Zander back from the park,  I took stock. How am I doing a being gentler.  I give myself a B- which isn't bad,  but I'm a straight As kind of girl and it is hard for me to swallow that minus sign.  I pondered where I did well,  where I could improve.  More strategies for handling overwhelm,  for catching myself before I react,  words I could say instead of what comes naturally. 

I thought about it all day.  Then,  Ulrich came home and he wasn't feeling good and I realized that I was solo parenting tonight - or at least I should be.  Instead of reaching in for any of the tools I had been mediating on,  I grabbed sarcasm of the shelf and showed less compassion than I should have... I was flustered by another unexpected change in my day.  I was rushed and many new things got added to my plate.  I wasn't gentle as I wanted to be...  maybe,  if I gave myself a little benefit of the doubt,  I was softer than usual but man... guilt comes right away. 

How can I suck so bad at this.  I literally thought/ about being gentler throughout the day,  only to blow it at the first interaction with my family when they came home.  I recovered ( in case you were worried that I completely blew it). We had a busy but beautiful evening.  But it still stuck with me.  How much grace do I need? Is there that much grace available?

I was getting the kids ready for bed and my grumpy,  lovable, honest, blunt Andrew came up to me. 

"Mom,  would you like it if I rubbed lotion on your feet?"

"Ya,  why are you thinking about doing that?:

"You're just doing really good right now. You're being a great mom. "

...

...

There is that much grace.  God showed up as a 7 year old with missing teeth and as a serious 9 year old today with a message of grace that runs deep.  Deep enough to absorb my imperfect parenting and my imperfect wife-ing. 

So I sat in my rocking chair and wrote this blog,  listening to soft piano music while my 9 year old rubbed my feet and reminded me that there is no where that we go where God does not come with us.

Day 7: Teach us how to pray

 

I always thought it was odd that the disciples asked Jesus how to pray.  I mean,  don't you just start rambling to God,  or groaning, or listing the things you are thankful for or the names of all the people that you know who are sick.  Isn't prayer just a conversation with God? Who needs to be taught how to pray?

I grew up in a church that wasn't big on reciting prayers with exception to the Lords prayer which was something we said because Jesus told us to. I did spend some time trying to understand the lord's prayer so that I could try to model my own prayers after it. But I couldn't really wrap my head around prayer that was scripted. 

I mean,  how do you have a conversation that is real and authentic when you are just reading a script?

I recently heard a podcast by Emily P Freeman on this subject. She had a similar background and relationship to prayer and discussed the practice of praying written prayers as a new way to pray.  

I've been pondering it and wanting to explore it during this lenten time.  I've been thinking that maybe written prayers are a conversation but instead of me leading the conversation these prayers invite me to do more listening and searching and reflecting. 

Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be they name. Thy kingdom come in earth as it is in heaven.

These words alone require a lot of listening and changing my posture.  It isn't about what I want or what I think should be.  What if I let myself go long enough to consider what it would be like if earth were like heaven? As a believer,  it's this part of my charge? What does it even mean for God's kingdom to come?

Compared to my normal laundry list of gratitudes and requests,  this seems to invite me to a much deeper place. This invites me to conversation with God. And easily,  I have very little to bring to the table. 

Maybe I've had it wrong,  maybe my own made up prayers are shallow and these prayers are the deep water. I'm going to explore for a bit and see what it leads.   

Day 6: Today I saw God in a 7 year old boy

Some people experience God most strongly in nature. Others in ancient cathedrals.  In music,  in writing,  in the ocean or the sky.  Like love languages, I think we all have faith languages, the modalities where we are most sensitive to perceive the presence of God. 

As I look back over my life to this point,  I think my faith language might be story. I can most easily experience where God has been by reflecting on my own life story and on the stories of others.  I see the fingerprints of faith in narratives as friends vent about things they've been going through over the past few months or in birth stories,  death stories, faith stories even in books and movies.  

Today I saw God unfurling in the heart of my middle boy,  Philip. To explain,  we have to do an abbreviated life history of Philip.  As a baby,  he was happy, easy.  I was grateful for that.  But I learned that it was a double edge sword.  He was so content with his inner world that he didn't really have a need for the other world. He didn't learn to talk or pay attention to things outside.  Perfectly content to be in his own little bubble. With lots of work and therapy,  Philip learned how to engage with the world - to speak,  to play.  I cried with joy at his first tantrum.  But,  like that,  it was time for kindergarten and I was terrified.

I contacted the teacher before school started and asked if we could tour the class and meet each other before starting on the first day.  We showed up and the first thing I saw was a superhero on her door. Philip loved all things superhero at the time and he fell in love with the class.  The teacher couldn't have been a better fit.  It was a moment I could feel God's hand in Philip's life (one of so many). Philip stated kindergarten in 2019, which meant the pandemic started that spring and I did a blend of homeschool and distance school during his 1st grade year to try to keep all his educational support services in place.  

Philip did great in homeschool but not great in traditional school and so as we rounded the year to start 2021, I prayerfully considered if Philip should go back to school and if so,  where. His older brothers were returning the the Christian school they had been attending. Due to his need for a little extra support, Philip had been unable to join them.  But,  the more I prayed on it,  the more I wanted to try giving Philip the opportunity to explore faith as part of the school day - memorizing versus at a Lutheran School when I was growing up has provided great comfort though the years- though I'll never admit it to my strict 5th grade Teacher. I also saw Eddie and Andrew growing in faith in response to attending the school and so I had hoped all of my boys could attend, at least for a little bit to help add those building blocks to their lives. 

Small miracles happen every day. I'll spare the details but Philip was accepted to the school and landed in the exact second grade class I had hoped for him.  His teacher had been Andrew's teacher during the lock down so I had gotten to know her style and personality much better than I would have otherwise and I had this 6th sense that Philip would do well in her classroom.

He didn't just do well.  He absolutely is thriving.  I almost cry when I picture how far he's come.  How easy school is. How much he enjoys it. How much he loves and respects his teacher.  

Tuesday night I was getting the kids ready for bed. Philip was rummaging though his drawers.  

"What are you doing?"

"Getting my uniform on."

"But it's time for bed. "

"I have big responsibilities in the morning,  I can't be late. "

All week he had been singing hymns and reciting verses for Ash Wednesday chapel.  Turns out,  his class was leading worship and he felt so honored not only that they were leading chapel,  but that it was ash Wednesday... important chapel.  Big responsibilities.  Can't be late. 

The next morning at chapel, his little voice rang out louder, more vibrant than his classmates.  He knew his part in and out.  He sang the songs with gusto. Parents smiled at me.  He was that kid. 

Today,  we went to church in the morning and went to grandma's house.  There is a church service at the kids school in the evening that we often go to instead of morning church since it follows a similar format to their midweek chapel service that they do at school.  But today,  since we had gone in the morning I didn't expect to go.  I light heartedly asked if anyone wanted to go to night church as we drive home from grandma's.  

"I DO!" Philip's small voice exclaimed from the back seat. 

I left other kids at home and went with Philip and Eddie.  We sat in the front row and Philip belted out every word of every song and did all the hand movements. I felt a little sheepish as you could hear his young voice over the rest of the congregation as if he were mic'ed. He had answers for every question the pastor asked. His eyes twinkled.  I could see faith taking root in Philip's life right before me. I could see God right there reaching out a hand to Philip. 

Sometimes we hear God in a whisper or a majestic waterfall.  But for me,  today,  God was missing his front teeth singing off key in the front row of church.  God was with the second grade Teacher who was sitting a few rows back who comes to every service and pours her life into the important work of teaching these precious small people. 

I turned around and scanned the congregation behind me. God was with every one of them. Every story bears the fingerprints of the divine. We just have to slow down a moment to see it. 

Day 5: faith is a choice you make

I used to think faith was a belief. 

Something I thought or knew to be true. 

God was close.  

A shadow that went with me everywhere.

Everything was more or less black and white and gloriously simple. 

The older I've gotten,  the more I've come to understand that God is unknowable.  The universe is vast and complicated. And all that black and white have streamed together in a million shades of gray.  What felt certain in my youth is riddled with unanswered questions and doubts and "what about" as I approach middle age. 

This struggle with faith used to cause me to feel something like shame.  I can't pinpoint the emotion exactly, but doubt and shades of gray condemned me to think that my faith was weak. 

But,  faith, I've realized is not something you know,  it is a choice you make... like marriage. Not every moment of marriage has been the same pure heavenly bliss that I felt as a newlywed.  In fact,  marriage I've found is mostly the result of effort I've put in to love and communication and kindness even when I've felt distant from my husband.  Love is a choice.  It is a verb.  It is hard but it is everything worth living for. Leaning into the mystery of God when it is unknowable and uncertain is what makes faith strong. 

Faith is hard to distinguish from love in this way.  It is a verb.  It is a trusting God even when God feels a million miles away. Even when the earth and humanity suffer. Even if the church wounds you.. Even when you can't quite understand what happens after the veil of death is lifted. Faith is showing up to wrestle with God about all these things and trust that God will meet you even if it isn't on the time frame you hoped for.  

Faith is a choice I make.  Again and again.   

Day 4: Embracing a gentler way

I think all moms yell from time to time. The din of noise from the chaos of energetic kids at play paired with a need to be somewhere on time (like school every. Single. Morning. ) can slowly push the voice from a calm "it's time to get shoes on sweetie" to "GET YOUR DAMN SHOES ON NOW!!!" over the course of 10 minutes. 

I've tried,  and failed,  giving up yelling for Lent.  I've observed that there are times in motherhood that requires a bit of a raised voice - for safety or because there is so much noise there is no other way to be heard.  

But trying and failing,  doesn't mean it is not worth doing.  In fact,  for me,  a journey towards not yelling at my kids is one that deeply explores my willingness to inconvenience the world by being late from time to time,  to be judged by strangers or to embody grace for my children who fail over and over to listen to me. 

This year, I have changed my language as I reflect back on a day.  Instead of asking myself - did you yell or refrain from yelling, I've decided to ask myself "were you gentle?" 

Gentleness is difficult for my impulsive, extroverted, big self. It is slower, softer, quieter, more reflective, more deliberate.  It is,  in many ways,  the opposite of who I naturally am and where many of my strengths lie. I don't expect to change that,  but I can embrace Gentleness as a way that will help me love better.  I can try to let go of myself and my ego and my fear of judgement to create space for softer ways to speak and a deeper grace to guide my steps.... at least for the next 40 days. 

Day 3: Pulling out the pacifier

One of the questions I ask myself when I'm thinking about what to do for Lent is..."what's my pacifier?" 

What do I do to fill empty time?

What do I lean on to get through the day?

How do I quiet the voices in my head?

What is the extra -- the craving - that I have a hard time ignoring?

The ever present hum of distraction and entertainment and input and information limits my ability to be present for matters of the heart,  the soul and the still quiet voice of the divine. 

Instant gratification leaves little room for yearning.  It compresses the space that is necessary to understand the root of my longing. That space where I ask myself 

"Do I really want this or is this a convenient replacement for a deeper thing my soul is craving?

 What am I really feeling now? 

What human need or longing does this signpost for me?"

Ash Wednesday was an absolutely beautiful day.  The sun shined brightly in a cloudless blue sky. It was about 70 degrees outside.  My boys had a short day at school and were all home by 1:30. They didn't have much homework. 

What should we do with this lovely day? I was certain that we would go to the park or the creek like we've been doing every nice day for the past few weeks. 

But the boys just couldn't get up for it. They were paralyzed.  Their world usually orbits around the video games they play.  They only are allowed video games on the weekends but during the week, they like to talk to each about what they are going to do next or watch videos to learn new things about the games.  

They decided collectively to give up games for Lent and that first afternoon was a huge vacuum. The whole world had collapsed for them. They weren't having tantrums but they just couldn't quite process what they would do with the massive spanse of free space both mental and time that lay ahead of them these next 40 days.  

"What do we even do now?"

We've given up video games before and I know that in a few days, they will bloom with creative ideas for where to put their energy.  But for now,  they can't see past the empty space left by the pacifier. It leaves them speechless, almost breathless. 

It is hard to pull out the pacifier.  Even if it is something small and stupid that really shouldn't feel that hard - chocolate or radio in the car.  It's not a big deal --- except it really is. 

That emptiness suddenly screams in my head and pushes all my buttons at once. Lent,  you just started,  how can you already be hard?

Truth is, sometimes the first few days are the hardest.  Sitting with the deafening silence that can feel all consuming in the echo chamber of my mind. Like a toddler screaming red- faced from my crib I'll throw any tantrum I need to get my paci back. 

But I've done this enough times to know that this is a time for grace.  To rest in the uncomfortable trusting that the emptiness will birth new growth in my soul.  It is a small step.  A small trust.  I can trust God with my chocolate,  my to-do list, my pacifier.  Like a loving parent, God is there to comfort me and help me grow letting go of my pacifier and learning how to find peace without it.