Day 6: personality vs character flaws - what is sin actually

In raising boys that are wired differently I've had to train myself to re-think what is "normal" what is "right" and how we "should" live. I've also had to rewire how I talk about and address "bad" behavior. Sometimes I need to look deeper and understand the why behind the behavior and teach an alternative explaining why A is unacceptable and B is.  

The whole process has gotten me thinking about sin,  character flaws,  personality differences and our faith walk. I feel like Christian writings lump all these things together under the category of sin and simply brush it off... on one hand,  we have all sinned and need grace.  On the other hand,  we are made new in Christ and somehow can just choose to stop sinning. There is also a cultural weight in Christian circles that this person is a "good" person because they are a believer. 

Also,  there seems to be a blurry line between socially unpleasant things with sin... is being annoying sinful? Impolite? What about "lazy" people or "selfish" people.  Are those "bad" qualities sin? What about in cases where the person can't help themselves? What about days when someone is grieving or depressed? What about kids? Is it not sinning when they are 2 but it is sinning when they are 6?

Having one label for all the "bad" things that people do feels to black and white for what feels to me like so many shades of gray.  It would perhaps work to label all these things with a single label but then... the word sin for so heavy,  so terrible.  It has so much weight. 

Personally,  I'm a "do the right thing" kind of girl. I struggled with perfection and have felt this constant pressure to change myself to "be better".... But as long I've wrestled with my own short comings, the more i struggle with... "be better how?" I find this simplification of all things sin,  somewhat challenging. 

For example,  I'm loud and outspoken. Tried and true extrovert  I can't help sometimes but share my thoughts and emotions.  I've struggled with this as a personality trait that in some cases becomes a character flaw.  It gets me into trouble and I wish myself to be different. 

In years of being married to an introvert,  I see that his tendency to stay quiet can also cause problems.  

What if we could change? What if he got better about speaking up? What if I got better at shutting up? What if all extroverts and introverts did the same.  Changing that personality trait to be balanced in staying quiet and speaking up would bring everyone in from the edge some sort of social norm.  A level of social communication that is ideal. 

But we can't,  we don't... no one nails social communication perfectly.  But moreover,  I'm not sure if anyone should.  We benefit from the different personalities.  And we call this the body. Each made for a specific role. 

But then,  if our particular personality type leads to a certain propensity for certain types sins but also to certain ways of reflecting God into the world. Going back to my extroversion as an example.  I am more likely to spout off and say hurtful things.  But I'm also more likely to have courage to speak up for injustice. The practice of taming my tongue in one situation makes it harder for me to speak up in another. 

So we struggle.  Often with the same things over and over. I see Paul writing about similar struggles.  But then I wonder,  where is the line and how is it drawn? 

On one hand,  we can say,  it doesn't matter because "all have sinned" and all receive grace. But on the other,  the faith walk is one of being transformed.  

Let's explore an example - being deeply involved in a community and caring for people,  lends itself to gossip.

Well,  you can be involved in a community but not fall into gossip.  But... caring for community means having constant news about the lives. It is the natural work of a community builder to ask about people and learn what is happening in their lives. It is such a thin line out even a blurred boundary between important work of information gathering and sharing for the benefit of all members of a community. It involves thousands of micro decisions about what is important to share and what isn't. 

Or what about a workaholic. Living with deep passion for a vocation.  Some are called to do work that changes the world.  Could they accomplish it without being a workaholic? Should all of us set limits on work? What about the one who could cure cancer or grow the faith or become president. 

In a certain light, a way of being is sinful.  In another,  it is living out of a call.  I think in some way,  most of us struggle with these kinds of dichotomies.  Few of us overtly sin for purely evil purposes. But rather wrestle with the dark side of our light. Leaning in to our call while being aware of the shadow that it may cast.

I'm very thankful for grace and that I don't need to answer this.  But as I continue to work on myself and raise my differently wired boys, I do wish there was a moral manual that was a bit more concrete for how to deal with edge cases,  annoying personality quirks and character traits that both cast light and leave shadows. 

  

Day 5: Scientific Doxology

It feels like God has been reading my blog because when I turned on Spotify to listen to my new podcasts, the episode that came on what almost a direct response to my previous two posts -- It was called Scientific Doxology and was a conversation with a scientist who saw his work in science as a form of praise.  He discusses how that framework for thinking about work shapes his work and his days. As I listened I could almost hear God whisper --"What if we took the concept of prayer and the concept of how we spend our day and we combine them --- What if the busyness of the day became a prayer?" In full discloser, I didn't finish the episode, which I've linked, but it was enough to get my mind rolling.

Could the ordinary busyness of our days over time form a liturgy of prayer?

If so, I have the lament sections nailed. 

Lord have mercy (on this messy house) 

Christ have mercy (on these children who are driving me nuts).

In seriousness, I think an aligning of the heart with the work God has given me in a day and letting my actions become a movement that connect me to God could transform the simple doing into sacred doing.

When I reflect on life, I can sense moments where this happens. When I deeply connect with one of the kids, or pull out a well of patience on a day when everyone seems to be melting. When I stay up with a sleepless child and lean into their needs rather than rolling over and mumbling in my sleep. When I stay up making a birthday cake or let yet another corner of my house surrender to the project of the day and dive fully in to learn about the bug or plant or element or whatever it is so we can experience and learn together. It is deeply purposeful and in those moments, I know I am exactly where I need to be. 

I experienced this also in work. In building our startup and showing up with couples who struggled with fertility. I held them in my heart during every board meeting, when I was writing articles for our website, when I was building our test kits, when I was meeting with the app developers. There was a prayer in my heart in all the hard work that made it feel like church. 

It isn't so much what I'm doing but what is in my heart in the doing. When I connect deeply to the work of God that is played out in my life, it easily transforms my days into a series hymns. When I feel far from God or when my life feels out of step with what God is doing in the world, I find every reason to complain and find distractions to fill my hours.

I wish I could say that I spend most of my time connected to God's work in my life -- but I'm not great at this. I have definitely had seasons where it was so easy. And so many others when I've been restless, seeking, agitated. Wanted God and life to be easier to understand, wanting some sort of instruction manual for how to align myself and my life to the Divine. To be fair, I think this is exactly the lifelong work of monks, priests and nuns who explicitly move out of life in society to devote themselves to the practice of aligning the living of life with the holy rhythm of God. Even as I fall short, I think returning my mind to this as a practice could help center me and help me prioritize what I get to and what I let go of. 

 In this season, I find myself entering middle age. My children are growing. My community is changing. My career is on standby mode. I sense life change somewhere on the path ahead of me but it is obscure and hard to grasp. This concept of life doxology could help me navigate the waters to understand better, where do I go from here.

Day 4: How do you spend your day

Today, I spent mine cleaning the house, doing taxes and getting the kids caught up on missing schoolwork. It was a rather uninspiring day. Outside was gray and cold and rainy. Inside, I flipped between entertaining a toddler, helping with math and finding tax documents. This led to a daylong meditation on how we choose to spend our days -- or sometimes, how our days choose to spend us. 

Lately it feels more like the second. Emails, school assignments, work priorities, laundry, dinner, crying baby, a planner full of misc appointments -- a doctor for this one, a teacher conference for that one, some school fundraiser, various minor holidays and school theme weeks. It feels like an endless list of things I didn't choose but somehow have to do. And I wondered -- how much can I live out my faith if my life is being dictated to me? Or is it? Did I choose this list as part of a call I took on and living in response to all these small demands is exactly what it means to live out my faith? 

Guys. I'm struggling here. Which is it?

I remember in 2020, all this minutia fell away and it was just me and my babies in the house. Motherhood became raw and hard in a way I hadn't ever felt but it also became more of a spiritual practice than I had ever considered it to be as I found space to be intentional with my children and to raise them without the distraction of the outside world placing excess demands on me. 

On the other hand, community is an essential part of being human and living out our faith. Community comes with ice cream socials, potlucks, classroom fundraisers and spirit days. The anthropologist in me is quick to point out how important all these things are to building and maintaining weak social ties. The theologian in me responds with how we are a body with many parts and it is our essential call to love each other -- sometimes love is going to the stupid thing you don't want to go to because that's what it looks like to show up. 

But as I lay open my planner, I try to find mental space to be intentional. I look for gaps in my schedule and I weigh -- should this be downtime, God time, giving to others time, feeding the hungry time? Half the time, I don't even have the time to open my planner -- the day starts and I just do the things and go to bed. And I feel -- conflicted. Part of me knowing that this is what it looks like to live selflessly. To follow through on calls God has given me in this time, in this place. The other part of me thinking -- this is suburban hell. It looks nothing like the life that Jesus has called me to live.

A few months ago, I had to give a sermon on All Saints Day. One line that has stayed with me is -- one day, our planners are empty. There will be no more pages to write. Did I live well the days I had? 

Day 4: How do you pray?

There are as many forms of prayer as there are people.  Over the last several years I have come to appreciate prayer practices that are far different from the traditions I grew up with.

Growing up I thought of prayer as mostly long form rambling to God. Sometimes it was public and flowery.  Sometimes private and raw. But mostly a one sided conversation where I talk and God listens.  Then I try to listen to life and sermons and Bible verses to hear God speaking back.  

But there was also the rosary that my grandmother prayed faithfully and the Lord's Prayer that we recited in unison during service.  People at my church were into intercessory prayer which seemed to be a receiving of the Holy Spirit and prophets would both bring supplication and response in turn. And there was a few years when everyone was into the Prayer of Jabez.  

There are prayers of silence in monasteries. The physical movement of the body through a labyrinth or the stations of the cross as another form of silent prayer.  There are readings of the psalms,  singing of hymns, painting a prayer with swirls of color.  The prayer that sends us off to sleep at the end of the day and the sobbing screams of grief or despair in life's darkest hours.  The prayers we groan at the end of our rope. The silent wonder in the holiness of a baby's first breath, the vast ocean or the sacred grove of ancient trees. The prayer of just being still and knowing that God is God.

Prayer is sometimes an automatic response when we get in trouble (God, please let me pass this test... God,  please get me out of this situation) or encounter something so sacred that we know in our soul that God is present.  Other times it is a practice that we struggle through kicking and screaming... or fight off boredom or a wandering mind .... or return to again and again and again with deep longing to just fine the presence of God. 

What is prayer? 

I was talking with a friend about prayer and the role it plays in different people's lives. It was the kind of conversation that was hard to articulate ideas as we realized how big prayer, as a topic is.  What is prayer? Why do we do it? How do we do it? How does God respond? On the surface it feels simple,  but there are so many different beliefs it's hard to really nail it down. In thinking about it,  it was hard to even define what constitutes prayer separate from just thought or worship or other spiritual practices.  Perhaps many spiritual practices are different forms of prayer? Is hard for me to draw a line between where one thing ends and another begins. 

As I've been pondering this for the past few days and I think at its heart,  prayer is a place where the space between us and God narrows. Sometimes we seek God. Sometimes God seeks us.  It can change us if we let it.  

There is a lot of theology and oh, so many books written about how prayer might work mechanically.  

Does God answer prayers? 

Does prayer release God to do God's work in the world? Or does God lead us to pray?

Will God answer our prayers if we pray them more often?  

There are so many questions like this. Even more ideas about what is and isn't true about prayer. 

But I think we sometimes over complicate it. Simply drawing near to God and receiving God drawing near to us is what is essential. For we were made to be in relationship and in relationship we are changed, given life, healed,  inspired, redeemed, forgiven and made whole. How it works exactly is a mystery beyond knowing.  

This Lent, I'm trying to lean in to practices of prayer that are shaped like my soul.  Rather than seeking so pray the "right" way or in a specific tradition, I am trying to focus on words,  movements and expressions and actions where I feel that space between me and God narrow. To connect to my native prayer language.

I invite you to consider what is your native language of prayer. We are all unique wonders. Fully known by our creator.  God hears our prayers spoken or not,  written or breathed. Images,  melodies, dancing or silence. Simply being still in the presence of God. 

Also,  as I explore this world of prayer,  I'd love to hear what your prayer practices are like and how you experience them. 

Blessings.

Day 3: The parable of the river wash

The wind was blowing and the kids were chilly. Andrew had the idea that if they climbed down the hill, it would block the wind so he led an expedition with the little brothers in seek of a wind shelter. Inside the RV, I glanced out the window and watched them grow smaller and smaller as they explored the area. 

I had a terrific line of site. The area was nearly completely void of life. A vast field of volcanic rocks, there weren't even the typical desert shrubs that fill most desert landscapes. But, they kept going and as they turned into little dots, I decided to grab the baby and join them. 

The wind was chilly, I totally didn't blame them for seeking a wind block. The baby wiggled out of my arms and ran down the hill after his brothers. In the distance, I saw a line of trees. Maybe we could gather some firewood in the creek bed. 

I caught up with the boys as they climbed down into the river wash. 

Between the trees and the dip in the landscape, the air was completely still and warm as the sun shone down on us. The river wash was a stark contrast the the land around it. It was full of trees and small plants. Flowers of many kinds were blooming. The ground was sandy with an arrangement of different types of interesting rocks, drift wood and the occasional insect. 

The children were wide with wonder.

"This is a hidden gem." Andrew exclaimed.

"It is so beautiful and no one would know it is here." Philip followed.

Miles fell silent as he bent to examine flowers and look under rocks for bugs.

We walked along the river bed for a while. The kids played and explored and wondered.

Philip began singing a hymn he knew from school.

I listened to him with a bit of wonder. The natural beauty of nature compelled him to sing about God. 

It was so clear that his heart had found that connection with the creation, the creator, and his natural response was to sing. 

We can find church anywhere. Ancient cathedrals with light streaming in through the stained glass murals. Or river washes in the middle of a barren wilderness.

I walked in silence and breathed in the sunlight, the wildflowers, the still air, the peaceful exploring children and the small voice that sang of God's love for us. 

Day 2: The parable of the Geode

This story begins in a driveway in 1987. Seven year old me had just learned that geodes exist. I knew nothing about them. Only that there are special rocks that when you break them open there are beautiful crystals inside. I didn't know what they looked like, how big they were or where you could find them. So I did the most logical thing a seven year old can do. I grabbed a hammer and started breaking rocks.

Busting rocks with a hammer became a hobby which I enjoyed even if I never found a geode. But a part of me wondered how many rocks would one have to break to find such a lucky rock.

Fast forward to 2013. I have an eclectic preschooler who loves YouTubes on ocean drilling and is memorizing the periodic table. We bought him a plastic periodic table that had empty 1cm squares that you can place cubes of elements in. He collected elements as rewards for completing his sticker charts. (Don't worry, he didn't get anything dangerous). 

One thing led to another and I found myself ordering the book -- Rockhounding California. Inside the front cover was a map of the state with pins for all the best rockhounding sites across the state. The kids loved the adventure of traveling out to remote places looking for copper ore or fluorite. There was a spot that was really remote that the kids had always wanted to visit -- Hauser Geode Beds. 

In 2020 when we bought our RV, searching for Geodes became a mission on the long list of things the family wanted to do. We made our first attempt in 2021. It ended poorly -- a long story for another post -- but lets just say that we spent 8 hours digging out the RV with cereal bowls and had to turn around and leave without even getting close to the actual geode dig site.

Last weekend, we worked up the courage to try again. I downloaded the satellite maps of the area. We talked through strategies for how to handle rough roads and taking a deep breath, headed in. 20 miles of desert roads took nearly 2 hours to navigate. Carefully passing through river washes and rough spots. Eyes glued on the satelite images on my phone making sure we were on the right path. 

Just about a mile away from the dig site, the road got really rough. We hemmed and hawwed and decided not to press our luck. We pulled off the road and set up camp on an amazing level site at the top of a tall hill. There was a great fire ring and dig spot for the kids to play in. I'm guessing someone else made the same decision we did. 

It was late afternoon, but the kids were too excited to wait until the next day. We packed hammers, shovels, snacks and water into the stroller and headed out down the road. I carefully examined both the satellite images of the dig sites and written descriptions of what to look for. The site is fairly popular among rock collectors and easy rocks have already been found. So, you have to dig and search if you want to find any geodes. 

By this point, I've learned a thing or two about rocks but I'm not an expert by any means. I had a vague idea about what a geode might look like but I wasn't sure I'd recognize one on site. Pressure was on... 5 eager boys, limited daylight and only a rough idea of what I was looking for.

A little science to provide some context....

Geodes form two different ways -- either during a volcanic eruption when a gas bubble gets trapped in cooling magma or in a sedimentary rock when water dissolves minerals inside a forming rock. The beds we were searching for were the volcanic type. The descriptions from the internet and my rock books describe the geode beds as ash beds. Instructions were to dig in the ash and geodes will loosen and fall out. So... we dug. Piles of ordinary rocks that *could* be geodes loosen. None of them were geodes. We worked until after sunset. I had to gather everyone and point them back towards camp. Shoulders were slumped as night fell. The hike home was much longer than the one heading out.

By some stroke of amazing luck, we had cell service at camp. I pulled up YouTubes to see if we were digging in the right area, the right way, looking for the right things. There have to be people who know what they are doing after all, this place is infamous among rock collectors. As predicted, there were several videos detailing people's adventures searching for geodes in these remote parts. Funny, they looked a lot like our day -- arrive. dig. move. dig. search. dig. break things open, try again. The boys felt much better but they also felt like the whole thing was a bit of a scam. They are GEODE BEDS... they should be full of GEODES! 

Some more study and discussion amongst adults yielded a new plan for attack for the next morning. The smaller kids weren't up for another trek so Ulrich and Eddie headed out first thing in the morning while I stayed back with the littles. 

They came back with a geode. Thank goodness.  

The plan had been successful and yielded a less popular dig site that still had easier to find geodes. Had they had a full day of digging, they would have found several nice ones. But it was a short, weekend trip and we had to start the trip home if we wanted to start the school week with minimal crying.

The long drive back I pondered the adventure -- over 9 hours of driving to dig in ash to find the most ordinary boring looking rock that when broken yielded precious treasure -- sparkling crystals. It felt like somehow the perfect vacation to take heading into Ash Wednesday. I could almost hear Jesus preaching -- the kingdom of heaven is like a geode. 

Still holding in my heart and pondering all the different ways that the kingdom of heaven is like a geode... and how somehow, my whole life ... I've sought to understand both.

Day 1: Surprised by an embrace

Ever since we got the RV, I've gotten comfortable with the wilderness. I now pack the right things -- shovels, jumper cables, and a snakebite kit. In getting ready for a long RV trip I know it is going to be a bit uncomfortable. Space is limited so I have to pack carefully. Important things ahead of frivolous things. Nature is a wonder. The trade off of having less and being less comfortable is worth it. 

As the mom, it is up to me to be the driving energy that launches our family off into trips. I organize, plan, look at the weather, identify potential spots, check supplies, pack appropriate clothes and the list goes on. 

Lent is a time in the wilderness. I approach it with the same energy. I roll up my sleeves and think and plan and contemplate -- what am I going to give up? What new practices are going to push me in my spiritual walk. I know the 40 days will be uncomfortable, but beautiful much in the same way as those long RV trips to the middle of nowhere. 

Today is Ash Wednesday. 

I've been deeply needing a spiritual reset. Life has had a bit of malaise and longing. I've been fairly intentional in trying to seek out my next steps in faith and coming up empty. God has been elusive. Faith has been a practice requiring intention and commitment on my end. I've tried to create space for it but dispite those efforts, I feel like I'm drifting away from God. It hasn't been an easy season.

So getting ready for lent this year has almost been like preparing for a walk with that one friend with whom there is unresolved conflict. Practicing conversations in my head. Dreading and anticipating. Wanting it to go well. Ready for a fight if it came to that. Like Lents before, I expected this to be intense. I was hoping it would be. I am so hungry for spiritual renewal.

I took the day off. 

The baby went to daycare. I scheduled myself to go to chapel with the kids in the morning followed by mom's group, spiritual direction and a lent phone call with a dear friend. I planned it to be a sort of private half day retreat to kick off this year's Lenten journey.

I had a hard time figuring out what my practices should be this year and I hoped that the day would help inspire me on a direction I could start to head out. Lacking inspiration, I decided that I'd do mostly the same thing this year that I did last year -- give up soft drinks, limit social media and fast food and support the kids in a fast from electronics. It's a reasonable list of practices but it didn't feel spiritually inspired as most Lents do. It felt like tradition. I wanted more... so I headed into this day with that energy I bring to getting ready for an RV trip. 

What are we taking on this Lenten journey, God? Where are we going?  What kind of outerwear should I make sure to pack?

I came rough and ready for an adventure. 

God showed up with supplies for a spa day. 

The day was surprisingly soft and nurturing. Every event, conversation and word was cradled with a gentleness that I wasn't expecting. The loud, chaotic chapel filled with school kids and the milling of parents, melted around me and I found myself connecting with the music and the receiving of ashes. Following service, there is a group for moms to connect and share motherhood and faith. I don't always have time to go, but I thought it would be a good addition to my retreat day agenda, so I headed over. 

Walking into the room, I found the group topic for the day was of art therapy with an invitation to explore ourselves, our emotions and faith through art. Tables covered with different mediums -- pencils, crayons, paints, markers, sponges. Different types of paper at the front of the room. 

"Ok, me, let's make some art."

"Imagine love -- the feeling in your body." The instructor directed. "Now find colors that represent that and start filling the page in front of you."

I felt a hug, a blanket and I started in with watercolors. Color unfurled from my brush swirling onto my paper. What fell out of my brush looked like a womb. A quiet, safe place where my body protected each of my babies as they grew. It created the space for them to become who they were going to become. As I melted into the color, I found God creating a space for me to safely grow into who I am meant to be. I imagined lent as a pregnancy, gentle and nourishing. Growing me into something new. 

This did not feel like Lent. It didn't feel like the beginning of a journey into the wilderness. It felt like something between a therapy session and a bubble bath. I was both deeply comfortable and strangely weirded out. 

Honestly, I didn't even know how to write today's post. It was so uncharacteristicly un-Ash Wednesday. But, sometimes, God surprises us.