Day 43: He has risen!

 The boys woke up at the crack of dawn,  just like I thought they would.  It felt like Christmas.  I told them they could play video games until 8. They were wrapped in blankets in a big ball on the couch, everyone holding a tablet.  

I got up and threw the cinnamon rolls in the oven, mixed icing and slowly sipped my sweet sweet caffeine.  The house smelled like a celebration. 

We got dressed and went to church. I realized it has been 3 years since we've been in church on Easter morning. Even longer since we've been there early.

Jesus Christ is risen today. 

I was overwhelmed by the familiar,  powerful anthem that rings in Easter service.  It is my favorite few minutes of the day.  Everything melts away and my heart pours itself fully into the singing. I close my eyes and prayed every word. The alleluias echoed in my heart and for a small moment I too, stood in front of the empty tomb. Awestruck and trembling. 

Today,  the sun shines with a ferocity and the plants in my garden have grown new leaves since yesterday.  Life triumphs. As much as yesterday was a silent, hopeful vigil.  Today rings with promise,  new life and exuberant joy. The water that washed us clean yesterday shows up on our well-nourished faces this morning. The women hurried to the garden to carry on with funeral duties.  They found an empty tomb. "Go and tell. " They had a new mission. From them to the disciples.  From the disciples to the rest of the jews. To the ends of the earth. This moment creates new purpose.  To invite the world into God's new creation and we are to do it by choosing love.  Just as Christ told us 

Let my feet and hands carry this news,  this joy,  this rebirth forward from here.  May I be a vessel of God's ongoing rebirth and transformation of this earth.  

May you as well.  May we together be light bearers, bringing Easter light to all the dark places we find. 

Amen. 

Day 42: Holding vigil

 My aunt passed away this morning.  

It was raining and I went out to care for the chickens.  Zander followed me out in his jammies and miles in his underwear.  They stomped in puddles while I tended the chickens.  The air was warmer than I expected.  A spring rain... not a winter one. 

I paused and let the rain fall on me. It is Easter vigil.  All of my kids were baptized on this day (or very early on Easter). Early believers were baptized on this day.  The stillness of death before resurrection.  The rain reminded me of baptism.  My kids playing in the water. It was a holy moment. I thought of my aunt passing newly on.  The water dancing around her in the quiet place between death and resurrection. 

I went back inside.  Lots of errands today.  Groceries for Easter.  Finishing school projects so we won't have to work on Easter or the day after.  We have big plans for Easter Monday that involve video games, a walk to Mcdonald's and me sitting on a swing sipping diet coke in the back yard.  If we're all going to take the full day off... we have a lot to do today.

I took Zander with me to buy some new Easter clothes for boys who are too big for last year's.  It felt like a vigil.  Getting ready for a funeral.  Getting ready for a party.  It felt like both.  The gray, sad day continued on outside. 

I went to the grocery store. I had decided to fast from Thursday night until Sunday morning.  I was hungry. I thought about comfort foods we eat on Easter morning and after funerals.  I remember my grandfather died during Lent and his priest made an exception to the no meat during Lent for the funeral.  It was a feast.  It was a comfort to eat together with the whole family. 

I bought my diet coke for Monday.  I thought about my swing and the blissful day of boys on video games all day.  My whole heart entered into anticipation.  For good food.  For drink.  For the resurrection just around the corner. 

I came home and cleaned the house.  The clouds outside lifted. The sun peered down in the afternoon.  I grinned. I've had this ongoing search for bad weather on Easter.  But for the last 15 years, wherever I've been it's been 70 and sunny every year for Easter day.  I could feel the time of Easter drawing close.  Almost like labor drawing close.  Just that feeling.  It's coming. It's almost here. 

Getting ready for a funeral.  Ordinary things.  Making coffee.  Doing paperwork.  Organizing events and people.  It's busy and a blur. 

The disciples didn't know Jesus was rising on Sunday.  They held vigil during the sabbath.  Thinking about all the things to do in the new week.  They wondered what now? What next? Who are we? They held grief close.  They did very little.  Just the ordinary. 

Holding vigil.  

Holding space. 

In the emptiness after death before the bustle of resurrection. 

Today was a vigil for me.  Incredibly ordinary but with heightened awareness and intention. Emotions like rain drops spatter the soul. 

These are the waters we're baptized into holding onto the ache of the cross in one hand and the joy of resurrection in the other. 

I'm just trying to sit with that for today. But still, my soul stirs. Something is coming.   

Day 41: But why... Love?

 I sat in the front row as we usually do. Most years I haven't attempted holy week or lenten services because 7pm on a school night is too late.  They are all toast and a calm, contemplative service is too tall an order.  

But this year, I decided to brave it. They are all getting older and I want it to be part of life for them.  Maundy Thursday tends to be more family oriented.  Washing feet,  communion,  praying in a garden.  This is the gentle part of the passion.  There is movement and it isn't quite as somber as good Friday.  A better place to start with 5 squirmy,  just before bedtime boys. 

Tonight's service was pretty meditative.  Candlelit.  Reflective.  Poetic. Stations of the cross around the back of the room.  We walked through them and took our seats.  Zander played on the floor with cars.  Miles laid on my lap. My attention split between keeping the little ones from being a distraction and the words being shared in the liturgy.

An odd thing struck me.  Jesus gave his last command,  "Love each other. " I mean,  of course. That goes without saying.  I usually pass right by that point.  But today it hit me hard.  The very last thing Jesus told all his disciples to do was love each other. 

There's a part of me that sees faith as an individual endeavor.  Seeking God at the top of a mountain,  a retreat at a monastery, deep study of ancient texts,  vibrant prayer.  But Jesus didn't give a final command to pray or to study scripture.  Jesus said to love each other.  Really? Is faith deeply,  essentially about loving each other? 

I've never been perplexed by this until today.  Sitting in the front row of church,  trying to pay attention to service while mothering the squirrelly boys at my feet.  Motherhood makes it hard for me to go to bible study, to journal,  to study scripture.  Motherhood makes spiritual practices difficult.  But motherhood is a spiritual practice. Choosing love instead of advancement in my career.  Choosing love instead of sleep in the middle of the night.  Choosing love, knowing that caring for a sick kid will make me sick too. 

Peeling away layer after layer of my selfishness and  pride.   Peeling away fear and anger. 

Faith

A belief I hold

Knowledge I have of God 

Theology

Or....

Love

Change in my heart

Forgiveness

Self sacrifice

I don't think I can have faith without love.  I don't think I can believe or follow God with just my mind or a set of right beliefs.  My heart must also be changed by love.  Jesus had to make it simple for us. 

I've thought about this a lot and yet I don't have it fully in my grasp. But Jesus left us all with a command that carves deeply into the essence of who we are... 

"A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."

Day 40: planning the last day of your life

 

The story starts tomorrow.  We walk with Jesus through the last days of his life.  The last supper,  the garden,  the trial,  the cross, the tomb. We have services Thursday night,  Friday, Saturday and Sunday to tell this story and follow in detail. 

I've thought all day about this well worn series of events that Jesus went through on his way to the cross.  And it struck me.... the last supper.

Jesus knew the story would be set into motion.  He knew the last supper would be his last supper.  

Sometimes we are given the hint that our days will be numbered. A diagnosis.  So much time to live.  Sometimes as people are dying they know when it is getting close. 

If we could choose our last day,  what do we do with it?

When I see the last supper through this lens,  I see Jesus doing many things I might choose to do with my last day.  Have dinner with people I love.  Tell them the things I need to get off my chest. Walk in a garden into the night.  Steal away to pray for strength to face the coming dread.

I'm not sure how Jesus saw the events unfold in his mind.  If he knew exactly what would go down in perfect detail or if he just leaned into God trusting in a plan.  I don't know how the divinity of Jesus interplays with the cross. The theology is heavy here and I'm sure incredibly controversial.  

But all through this story, I see Jesus teaching me how to live and how to die.  Forgiving the thief on the cross next to his,  caring for his mother as he groans in agony,  washing his friends feet before he heads into his own suffering. Jesus offered us his light through to the very last moment. 

I hold that close as I re read familiar stories.  

Jesus, teach me your ways.  May I learn to follow your lead. 

Day 39: Disappointed

 

Jesus has a very special love for you. [But] as for me–The silence and the emptiness is so great–that I look and do not see,–Listen and do not hear. –MOTHER TERESA TO THE REV. MICHAEL VAN DER PEET, SEPTEMBER 1979

Mother Theresa's struggle with faith has brought me comfort over the years.  In my youth,  I was so certain of God in my life and as I've gotten older I feel as though I search for God but rarely sense his presence. When I read about mother Theresa's similar experience I felt comforted and began to see the absence of God as an invitation to spiritual maturity. To trust what I cannot feel,  to believe what I cannot understand. 

This is my tenth year writing this blog. It has been a beautiful was to force myself to look for God in my life every single day for a season.  And,  I do find those traces and inspirations that point me towards Christ and the life he calls me to live.  I've been convicted and wrestled with my darkness.  But if I'm going to be completely honest,  I always have this glimmer of hope that somehow if I search hard enough and faithfully enough,  God will show up in a flash of lightning,  in a dream,  a whisper,  a certain undeniable moment. I want clarity on my   steps in life or affirmation that I'm doing what I should be doing or just the awesome presence of the divine that make believing and trusting so much easier. I want to be Thomas seeing the risen Jesus face to face. To see the nail holes.  To touch him. 

No Jesus fireworks this year. No brilliant revelations that assure me that I'm walking in step with my maker. Just the steady practices of faith - scripture, prayer,  meditation, trying to mold my heart and character after Christ. Failing and trying again. Looking for moments to shine my light and grieving all the darkness that is out there. 

I'm a little disappointed that this doesn't get easier year after year.  I'm a little disappointed that God is still just beyond my reach. 

But still I trust. Still I hold the rhythm and story of this sacred time close to my heart. Still I let myself be drawn to and shaped by the mystery of Christ. 

Two more days and we relive the story again.  May it come alive to you and me in new and different ways.  May the coming joy of Easter well up in each of our hearts.

Day 38: life is so hard

Today, I read an update for a friend whose tiny daughter is fighting cancer,  an obituary for my sister in laws step father who just passed,  gave groceries to another friend getting on her feet.  

Life is so full of hardship. I think about the war.  People struggling to survive.  I think about rising prices and supply chain problems that are causing scarcity and in some places hunger.  Our world is broken. 

Jesus walked a broken road in a broken world to a cross full of sorrows.

But there is something past the cross. 

Something past the brokenness. 

We're journeying through this most holy of weeks,  holding all the brokenness in our hearts.  Waiting with disciples with just as many questions, with hope and desperation.  They didn't comprehend God's plan... Jesus didn't upset the Roman empire and restore David's throne. I don't fully comprehend God's plan either.  

I feel like a disciple sometimes.  I want a short cut.  I want the straight forward path where God comes and banishes all heart ache forever. Life should be easy.  The world should be put together. 

But something happened between Good Friday and Easter morning.  Something I still struggle to get my head around.  God has a plan for all our brokenness.  There is light beyond our pain.  Peace beyond our thrashing.  Hope beyond our desperation.

The disciples met the risen Lord on the road to Emmaus. Today, I pray for my own road to Emmaus where I can walk with Jesus and he can tell me everything. 

For now,  I hold the brokenness with a deep longing. The cross is still ahead.  But,  so is Easter. 

Day 37: singing off key

We've been practicing for a couple of months.  I had wanted the boys to try singing at church, they picked the song "He reigns" by newsboys and were interested in giving it a try. 

The song is deceptively tricky with its timing and nuanced chord progression, but the chorus is easy and catchy.  The boys decided to split up verses,  each singing one and all of them joining the refrain.  We practiced with the recording but didn't have the opportunity to do it with church musicians until this morning.  We don't mean to have judgement about imperfection but we're surrounded by polish and so the imperfect is notic

We weren't the Von Traps. But the boys were joyful, they knew the words,  they (mostly) for the tune and timing down and they followed the plan for who was singing what.  They got up in front of the church and sang. It was a little off. 

We're used to everything being so edited that we expect little kids to sound like those perfect child recordings or all of our doodles to look like the time lapse art that we see on social media. We aren't intentionally judgemental,  we are just so surrounded by editted, polished everything that imperfection stands out in our world.  

We have an internal reflux to fix things. To point out the missed timing,  the off pitch note. There's a place for that. 

But today,  my boys taught me there's a place for imperfect gifts. 

They didn't notice the errors in the performance,  nor were they overly proud. They treated church like any other day.  They just did something a little extra special.  I think it was between them and God. They had practiced hard.  They gave a good effort. 

God loves imperfect gifts given from the heart.

Day 36: adjusting back to life

The feeling of returning from vacation is this strange moment where you transistion from extraordinary back to ordinary. For me,  today it was checking in my plants and chickens,  unpacking the car,  looking at my planner and getting my mind around the upcoming week.  It was adding RV maintenence to my to do list and thinking about what else needed to be done before we put the RV back in storage. 

  This moment of touch down,  returning to life comes after vacation or a long weekend. It comes after a big game or Christmas or long awaited birthday party.  It happens after birth, after getting married,  after gradation, after the death of a loved one.  You go from a time cut off from the world,  suspended in moments that form you,  then you go back to school,  to work,  to the daily grind of living.  

In these moments, I have to put myself back together. I remember the past... what was happening before and what I need to take care of. But I also have to rearrange the pieces of myself and create space for new pieces... the pieces changed by those moments outside of normal life.  I have to make sense of my new normal.  Coming back from vacation,  my new normal is the same as it was, just a few new to do items.  But after the birth of a child or the loss of a loved one,  the new normal is completely upside down,  backwards and inside out from what life was before. I can hardly even ferment what I thought was important before. 

Sometimes,  moments with God are like this.  Outside of time,  separate from ordinary life and then... I have to come back to myself and take the pieces and rearrange my life around a new direction or a new self.   It's hard to do this.  There's a disconnect between "normal" life and "God moments." 

A new baby forces change. It's an uncomfortable transistion to sleeplessness and selflessness. But quiet moments with God are not so forceful. Up in the mountain top, everything is clear.  But as I muddle back to life, somehow I get less certain... confused. .. longing to just go back to the mountain. 

Tomorrow is palm Sunday.  The disciples are about to step out of life to journey with Jesus to the last supper, to huddle together at the terror of the events that play out in his last day and dump them out in the locked upper room where they gathered together and tried to figure out what's next. 

Holy week is an invitation to join the disciples on this journey.  To be blown apart by Jesus and stand on Easter morning scratching our heads wondering how to rearrange life around what God is doing. It takes time. Easter is a season that ends with Pentecost.  The pouring of the holy spirit who helps us organize the pieces and become the new creation.  Between now and then,  it is part of the journey to feel unsettled or confused. Those early disciples definitely were. 

May this week blow me apart and push me to consider how the pieces of my every day normal life are changed by it. 

Amen. 

Lent day 35: The nature of dragons

The boys love a book series called Wings of Fire that explores good vs evil in a complex web of relationships.  An interesting twist is that each book is written from the perspective of a different dragon so you can hear the thoughts and motivations behind different characters.  Sometimes re-covering parts of the plot as seen through different eyes. 

There is a dragon called Dark Stalker who has special powers of reading minds,  seeing the future and magic that basically gives him god-like powers. There is a warning that using powers like that can ruin your soul and turn you evil.  And,  of course,  Dark Stalker, becomes the super villan. But in the book, written from his perspective,  dark stalker is relatable, likeable and his decisions seem understandable. 

There is a unspoken question that the books raise.... is it possible to have infinite power and not be corrupted by it? It's the little everyday selfish nature in ourselves that tells us how we would handle power. How do we handle the power we already have - our intelligence,  our money, our influence? Do we use it for ourselves or do we give it away freely to help humanity? 

I don't think there are super villans lurking inside most of us.  But I think we are predisposed to put ourselves first and that with money and power we are tempted to benefit ourselves at the expense of others,  especially if the expense of others is conveniently hidden. How much do we destroy the earth or exploit the poor in our daily lives? Of course,  we don't overly do it,  we don't even see it. Some invisible evil corporations do it. Surely if we examine our decisions and actions where we know the outcome. Do we tell harmless lies? Do we compromise our ethics to make people like us or to make life more convenient? Not to hurt anyone of course,  just out off convenience. Is that where corruption begins? Does that nature inside us grow as power, influence and wealth increases?

Day 34: Breaking Lent

Heading out on our family trip, I took a deep breath thinking about what a road trip would be like given the things we've given up for lent this year:

- Mcdonald's (family)

- Tablets (kids)

- scrolling social media (me)

- Caffeine (me)

- all drinks besides water (me)

if I'm honest,  the list above is a significant part of road tripping.  The kids get time on their devices during long drives while I sip my diet coke and scroll Instagram.  The glorious break from motherhood. 

I was pleasantly surprised,  as we started out on our trip, at how well the boys entertained themselves during our long drives.  I still missed my diet coke but vacation was going well. 

We decided to get a hotel room for a night so the kids could go swimming.  They swam for hours. When the last water soaked boy climbed out of the pool,  the crying and fighting began. Everyone was HANGRY. 

The hotel was next to a Sonic. The boys had never tried it.  So we decided to walk over and check it out.  Miles eyes jumped out of his head as he scanned the menu finding a bright picture of a corn dog. "I'm having a corn dog!!" He exclaimed.  

I pressed the button to order and the reply came,  "we're short staffed. Only taking drive thru orders." "But we're on foot" I replied.  "Maybe we can get to you in 15 minutes.  No promises. "

I looked at the kids.  They were squirrelly.  No way would they last 15 minutes. Miles eyes beamed with excitement.  I looked around.  What other choices were there? Jack in the box, gas station, Walmart and Mcdonald's.  I turned to the kids.  "This is going to be a very long wait. Do you want to try Jack in the box instead?" I asked. 

 "Do they have corn dogs?" Miles asked. 

 "No,  but you can get chicken nuggets and fries. "

 "OK. I'll be flexible. " 

We headed over to Jack in the box.  As we neared the door,  we noticed a small sign.  

LOBBY CLOSED.  DRIVE THRU ONLY. 

I turned to the boys. "This is closed.  Do you want to see if the gas station has corn dogs?"

We turned again and headed to the gas station. We clambered in and headed to the concession area.  NO CORNDOGS. Miles started crying.  What now?

We headed out of the gas station and stood in the parking lot. "Do I suggest we break Lent and go to Mcdonald's?" Miles was falling apart.  He was sobbing. Starving.  Across the street,  I could see people inside.  The lobby was open.  

I thought of Jesus collecting wheat during the sabbath. 

I sat the kids on the curb.  

"Guys,  I think this is a moment where we make an exception about Lent.  Miles is so sad and I think we need to get food for him. " 

They nodded. 

"Miles,  would Mcdonald's chicken nuggets be OK?"

He blinked away tears and looked into my eyes.  Really? His little face seemed to ask. I grabbed his hand. 

"Yes" he said quietly as he stood up to walk to Mcdonald's. 

We all walked over to Mcdonald's quietly. Sometimes breaking Lent teaches as much as keeping it does. 

Day 33: in defense of Martha

 As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”

My kids destroy our RV at least twice a day during our trips.  Someone has to prepare meals,  prepare beds,  prepare the cabin for travel.  I find myself occasionally buried in resentment. 

Why do I have to be the only one who does this???

Often when I feel this way, this story of Martha and Mary pops into my mind and forces me to think about the moment.  Do I need to be cleaning right now? Am I missing something important?

But I also want to yell back at Jesus,  "of course Martha would love to sit there and listen,  but SOMEBODY has to feed everyone and make sure the essentials are taken care of.  It isn't magic Jesus. Not all of us have the option of performing a miracle"

There is a time to let the dishes stay dirty in sink,  to grab a quick snack instead of making a meal,  or skipping a bath to catch an important life memory.  Of course there is.  But the rest of the time,  the Martha's of the world make everything work.  They make sure we are fed and comfortable,  clean and have a good place to sleep. They are silent in the background working hard to make the beautiful moments in life happen. 

I can choose Mary moments,  but the world needs Martha. 

Day 32: into the wilderness

I was never much a fan of the desert. It seemed unnecessarily dangerous - hot,  waterless,  full of poisonous snakes. Void of life and with no real reason to go there.  Why would Jesus go out into the desert to pray? 

My boys love the desert.  Open space,  cool rocks,  things to climb,  lizards to catch and best of all being a million miles away from everyone and everything.  

Desert trips open my soul in a unique way.  There are few distractions here.  There is a type of isolated boredom and lifeless beauty that I have not found anywhere else.  It's hours and hours of down time that create space for me to listen to God in an unforced or unfocused way.  It is a meditation of rock and open space.  

I can't imagine 40 years or even 40 days wandering in the desert but that would surely be enough to turn the heart and open the soul to a new call or direction.  

Spring break for the boys is another desert trip and a I watch them scamper on hills and dig in the sand I quietly open my heart to listen to what the spirit might whisper. 

Day 31: where everybody knows your name

I went to the park with Zander this morning.  We go a few times a week,  sometimes every day.  I recognized moms who have a similar routine with similar aged children. 

Last year,  while homeschooling,  parks were closed.  I had a different routine.  The boys and I would walk a long route to get groceries and occasionally stop at a few shops or get McDonald's breakfast.  Again,  I got to recognize workers in the shops and other people who had the same routine. 

Before the pandemic,  my routine mostly consistently of morning drop off, work, afternoon pickup and home for therapy and homework. I would sometimes take evening walks in the neighborhood. But life was much busier. 

As I walked home from the park I started reflecting on this and the rise of loneliness in our society. I realized how isolating modern life can be.  Too busy to develop routines in places that allow strangers to become familiar.  Turning instead to social media, which is available 24 hours a day conveniently during the scraps of time leftover from all the other activities of life. 

Social media is addicting for me because it is an easy way to connect.  Our brains are (mostly) wired to be interested in other people's lives,  to feel a sense of reward when someone likes our comments on something in our lives.  We are wired for connection. 

These days when I walk,  there are a lot more strangers that I recognize. Familiar faces that smile in recognition as our eyes meet.  Quick greetings and short small talk.  These things add up to tell me,  I belong. People know me here. 

God lives in connection.  My favorite illustration of the trinity come from the book "The shack" which portrays God as three people in perfect relationship. Created in that image, a sense of belonging is core to who we are.  

Life keeps speeding up,  the farther we press on pass the pandemic.  Pushing up make up for lost time and lost productivity. I am quick to want to speed back up too. But it is important to remind myself that some of the rhythm I've developed over the past couple years is important as a way of grounding me in the place I live.