Day 15: A grown-up tantrum

 I laid my 3 year old on my bed to change his pants. It was nearing nap time and he still wears diapers for sleeping.  As I pulled off his pants, he started thrashing. "I'm not tired!" He protested, kicking his legs furiously. He was, in fact,  tired. 

I thought about how he must feel. There is a weight of feeling foggy,  like things are not quite right,  a lack of patience, an urge to cry and kick and thrash. And yet,  there is no name for this feeling.  It is overwhelming and something needs to change.  "Maybe I will feel better if I throw this car " 

I watched him feel his feelings and not understand them.  I knew that I had the answer and suddenly I wanted God to come and solve my feelings. 

I was having feelings too that I didn't know how to name. I just finished a zoom call with a company that I consult with.  Nothing is wrong, exactly, but I'm out of step or perhaps not the right fit for this work at this company in this moment.  I work less than 5 hours a week,  not enough to keep in step with an organization, especially since those 5 hours are almost always remote.  

Are my feelings self doubt or just dissatisfaction with a less than optimal situation?

Perhaps,  I'm feeling the sacrifice of motherhood.  Being less at other things to be more for my kids.  

Maybe I'm tired or my hormones are out of whack or I need to eat.  Probably all of those things.

Whatever it is,  I have enough sense not to thrash and kick my legs and throw a toy truck,  or at least I think I do. But I don't know what will make it better and I want God to fix it. 

I stumble upon this prayer:

"May I find freedom in limitation - to fully give myself to what I can do rather than worry about what I cannot" @40daysprayerbook

Maybe I am bumping up against my limitations and like Zander fighting his nap, I am fighting to break through so I can do more and be more when I need to see limitations as a sign post to move in a different direction.  

I will sit with this,  once I get him down for a nap. 

Day 14: An Easter people

 

I am so tired.  Zander crawled into bed around midnight and we spent the night playing jenga. My leg ached from over exercise and I limped to the bathroom for ibuprofen.  Finally,  all was calm and still and I passed out to find a morning come too soon.

The day was busy with work and school presentations,  homework and dinner, and all the while I wanted to curl up and go back to sleep.  But I'm the mom... so I pressed on. 

The kids gave up treats except for a weekly dessert that we enjoy as a family.  Tonight we made extravagant banana splits with strawberries,  m&ms, gummy bears,  marshmallows,  whipped cream and chocolate syrup.  It felt like a celebration. A celebration in the middle of Lent. 

We are an Easter people.  We celebrate during Lent because death does not have the last word.  Because God loves us and redeems and cherishes us no matter where we go or what we do.  We are an Easter people.

I kicked and screamed in my head all day about trying to get my daily exercise in with an injured leg.  I wrestled with topics for this blog post.  I already felt "done" with Lent.  

And then we had banana splits and the joy of my children was palpable.  They eagerly added toppings of choice to a mound of neopolitan ice cream and shoveled over full spoonfuls into their mouths as they chattered away.  

In that moment my bitterness about Lent melted and this blog post fell into my mind. 

Even during Lent,  we are an Easter people.

Day 13 : Book review: Habits of the household

 

Looking for new disciplines to add during Lent,  my sister-in-law recommended a book called "Habits of the Household" by Justin Earley. It was free on Spotify and only 6 hours so I thought it a good kick off to Lent. 

The book starts in the morning and ends with bedtime and walks through the rhythms of the day.  The author is a dad of 4 wild boys who ranged in age from one to nine years old.  He talks about his life and moments he shines as a dad and moments he falls flat.  He talks about his own childhood and faith and his view of the role of a parent in passing faith from one generation to the next.  

I would describe his faith and theology as orthodox and traditional.  He embraces the concept developing rituals of faith. Liturgy, catechism, written prayer and symbols that match the passing of time.  Reading his vision of how to parent reminds me of those simple,  good and large Christian families that I grew up with.  

I don't see myself or my family as quite fitting that description but there is a new,  quirky and perhaps more nuanced flavor of that culture that I've worked hard to build.  I deeply agree that life as liturgy is a way of living faith in the busy day in and day out.  Rhythms and rituals signal what we value individually and as a family.  

With every new section of the book I found myself wanting to argue,  just a little,  with some finer point,  but I held back and found myself more in agreement than I originally thought I would. And,  in many points,  I was convicted of my own shortcomings as a mother and in this work of building faith into the mouvements of my home.  

I also pondered the neurodiverse adaptations of some of his touchstone points.  Again,  more of the practices would work in my home (I think) than I originally expected. But there were some areas that would need pretty drastic shifts. But even in those places and in the places where I disagreed,  I found myself thinking very deeply about exactly how I might create some parallel practice. 

But,  the biggest win from this book is the possibility of putting something into action relatively quickly. Almost every recommendation, idea or practice is very small and easy to implement.  It reminded me of things I did when the kids were little and could pick up again.  It made me think about rhythms that got lost during Covid and how I might want to consider their place in our life now. 

The first thing I've brought back is an evening prayer after our Audiobook and a hymn that signals its time to sleep. We used to do this and i don't know what interrupted the routine but I'm happy to have it back.  In the few weeks that we've done it, I've enjoyed listening the boys bring up prayer requests. They've opened up more about desires of their heart. It's been a precious re-addition to our night.  

Day 12: stories that change us

There once was a man who set out to build a life for himself. He worked hard and built a good life for himself. A home. Land. Livestock. Hired help. He married and had two sons who he raised well to take over his business in his retirement. But one of his sons wasn't on-board with his dad's plan and wanted his share as soon as he turned 18. 

Disappointed the man obliged and sold off half of the business he had worked so hard to build. He handed a sack of money to his son who promptly turned and ran away.

Most people know how this story ends - forgiveness, redemption and reunion. 

I taught this story in Sunday School this morning. Sometimes the kids fidget as I try to get through the lesson. Today, it was silent. They were really listening.  

Perhaps the story was relatable because it was about parents and children. But perhaps. The story of redemption and always having a home to come back to is a powerful gospel and even young children grasp the implications of unending grace.  

Our craft of the day was to make welcome signs to hang on our front doors and to write messages of grace with sidewalk chalk in front of the church to remind us that no matter what happens, we can always go home and we can always go to church. There will always be a place.  

I've always read this story and taken the view point of the good son.  But today, telling it to my own kids,  I could take no other perspective than the father's. I can't imagine having any other reaction if one if my children were lost and then they came home. 

Joy.  Gratitude.  Tears. 

Lent is so much about walking the way of a believer.  Walking with Christ. Doing the hard work to try to shape myself in his likeness. I spend Lent trying to be the good brother. Buy God celebrates me just as I am a much as I celebrate my children just as they are.  

This is a simple story and simple message.  I did in fact teach it to 3 year olds this morning.  But that is what makes it so powerful.  We can all grasp it, hold it and cling to it. It is a promise for us all.  

Day 11: low key addiction

It was a glorious day and I forced all the kids to hang out in the backyard as I cleaned up leaves and recovered from winter. There was a lot of complaining in the beginning.  It was so boring outside.  There was nothing to do. "You can always help me work. " was my constant reply. 

Usually,  Saturday morning starts with video games.  Last week,  we were charged up with the conviction of starting Lent.  But now,  it's been awhile and somehow Saturday doesn't feel quite right without our Saturday morning game time. 

It didn't feel quite right for me either. While the kids play video games,  Ulrich and I usually take Zander on a run with us and we have breakfast together at the McDonald's around the way where Zander can play on the playground and we can plan the weekend over an egg mcmuffin and a diet coke. 

The shinyness of new lenten habits and practices is beginning to wear off and I'm starting to feel the rub. No scrolling social media while I'm waiting for kids.  No emotional headlines to get me going. No diet coke buzz.  No picking up treats or scrolling Amazon to decide this or that.  

There is a lot of micro space that all my low key addictions, rituals and habits once filled. 

I have to level with myself.  The dopamine I got throughout the day from these activities felt good and life now feels a little lack luster.  

But the day was sunny and I spent the day in the garden.  I'm not done but I put a big dent in cleaning up and I started planting.  The season of watching things grow is starting and my heart feels happy at the arrival of new shoots and blossoms on my trees.

It isn't easy to let go of things even when we are letting go to move to better things. I let my kids be uncomfortable in the backyard until they remembered games they used to play in the backyard.  I let myself be uncomfortable with the gaps in my life as God opens me to new habits that will serve me better. 

Day 10: unfolding convenience

One of my lenten themes this year is drawing my attention to the myriad of silent messages that beat up against my subconscious. As I've tried to to this,  one message comes up time ans again - life should be easy and convenient.  This message is felt as inexplicable rage at inconvenience or a despair and isolation that shows up when life feels harder that it is supposed to. 

Example...

The other day I needed to enroll Eddie into the school district for assessments prior to highschool.  In order to do so I needed to go IN PERSON  and present PAPER copies of my bills and mortgage to prove I'm a resident.  I noticed how annoyed I was. I barely know how to find those things. All my bills are auto paid. Beyond that, to print,  I couldn't use my phone. I had to use a laptop.  I got a new computer and I have to do multistep authentication and then figure out how to download current bills for printing.  

Then I needed to figure out where and when I could go to bring all the relevant documentation. 

I could feel a bubbling irritation. Turning in Eddie's paper work was one item on a list of to dos for the day and it was taking longer than its allotted time.  I thought of 15 ways the process could be made more convenient - namely that I could email some screenshots of all the required paperwork and complete the whole task in less than 15 minutes. But no... we had to do this the old fashioned way. 

While I was driving to the school district office,  I thought about how many tasks I do in less than 15 minutes that would take at least a few hours the old fashioned way.  Bills and paychecks on autopay. Drive-through on the way to activities.  Movies and music on demand. And how could I leave out Amazon.  If I need literally anything,  even things that I might not know exist - I need a dohickey that does such and such - and I can easily find a variety of options,  read specifications and reviews,  perhaps link to videos and order with a single click for the item to show up the next day and solve whatever problem I had. 

If I unfold this experience, it easily takes days or weeks.  Talking to people about items that might solve the problem,  going to a variety of stores that might carry such items and wandering around to figure out where the items might be shelved.  Reading boxes in the aisle to try to understand what the product is or does.  Perhaps asking a person who works there if they have any experience with such objects.  I may try a few different items before I find the thing that works and solves my problem. 

I don't have any beef with convenience.  As a mom of 5, convenience is probably the best word marketing can use on me because day to day life with 5 kids is a lot of work.  But,  as I distance myself from life as usual I've noticed the flip side of the convenience offer. 

1. I can do more,  I should do more

Now that I don't have to spend all day Saturday shopping for that thing I could have all that time back to rest and still achieve the same thing but that's not the way of the world.

Convenience is a trap to intice us to marketing favorite word "more." I don't fill the gaps with rest or connection (usually speaking) but rather add things to the to do list, pressuring myself to do more and more.  If there's a life hack that will allow me to cram more into a day,  I'm on it.  

2. Convenience steals meditative time

In Haiti, I used to wash all my laundry by hand. It took most of a day. 

Let me be perfectly clear. I LOVE my washing machine.  

But... simple, manual tasks create a special space for the mind to unfold,  rest, pray and create. Think washing and drying dishes,  folding laundry,  raking leaves. I think the convenience of modern life has pushed me to make more decisions in a day and spend less time in unstructured rest of manual labor. Even though I've dramatically reduced the number of hours I work in the day and increased the amount of housework compared to when I was working full time. Even the monotonous life of a stay at home mom and managing a household requires a ton of mental work - managing schedules, medical appointments,  inventory of household goods,  finances. As much as I try to push back against the busyness of over scheduling kids activities,  I think our era pushes to do all the things because convenience makes it possible to do all the things. And because of this,  modern life has little down time.  

3. Convenience puts me on auto pilot

Like water going to the lowest place,  I find myself making decisions about what to eat,  what to do and what to buy mostly out of what is the easiest thing to do. 

I set up systems to run my life and my life runs on autopilot. I don't have to make decisions. I've only recently subscribed to a few items on Amazon.  It's magical.  Things show up when I run out.  But.... these items are no longer considered regularly whether or not I need them or if I should do things differently. They are locked in.  Of course I can unsubscribe,  but mindfulness takes more mindfulness when habits are taken a step further and fully automated. 

Again,  it's totally magical. But I observe how the sum of all my life automation disconnects me from the certain decisions.  I think,  in fact , that's part of the appeal.  As I mentioned above,  my mind is working harder and making more decisions. So why wouldn't I want to off- load mental work?

4. Finally... convenience makes it hard to be patient

Patience is hard.  It is called a gift of the spirit for a reason.  Patience requires a intentional selflessness. It recognizes that there are things more important than our time and energy that we spend waiting. Every marketing message of convenience tells us the opposite.  Those messages place me as the supremely important person who does not deserve to be kept waiting. 

Things that require me to choose inconvenience

1 teaching children anything... but especially things like chores that I can easily do myself

2. Relationships - other people and the messiness of talking to them,  loving them,  forgiving them and holding space for them is incredibly inconvenient- especially when they call when I'm busy.  

3. Faith - church when I could sleep in or relax, standing by my values or ideals, living out a call to love others as myself,  embracing uncertainty and unknown mysteries of God. All very very inconvenient.  

This devotion is a moment to appreciate the conveniences of my world.  But also to assert that I am not beholden to them.  

I do not need to choose convenience over things that matter more. 

I do not need to fill every moment of time saved by a convenient product or service with more work or productivity. 

And, I can choose to do things the old fashioned way if it helps to rest my mind or build relationships.  

Day 9: Transcendence in cleaning legos off the floor

One of my lenten practices is reading a couple of books.  One of them is called, "Life worth living. " The supposition of the book is that there is something worth living for. Something beyond being happy and healthy and having a long life. Something worth sacrificing health, happiness and even life for. Whether we want to or not,  one of our works in life is to answer the question - what makes life worth living? What is worth doing with our life?

I just finished a chapter that describes levels of consciousness. The top level,  the authors call auto- pilot. This is the automatic.  What we do habitually without hardly any consciousness.  This is where we live most of our time.  

The next level, they named effectiveness.  This is the level where we plan our days and set our habits. We make a goal of running a marathon and then we make a habit of running every day.  

One more level down, we find self awareness. This is where we define what we want and what we value. I value health and make it a priority.  

The deepest level is transcendence.  This is a level deeper than ourselves. This is the place where we wrestle with what makes life worth living. What is worth dedicating life to.  

 I finish the chapter,  set the book down and get back to life.  Standing up off the couch, I sigh,  the floor is littered with the remains of a very fun playtime.  Magnatiles,  legos,  tinker toys,  action figures, matchbox cars and itty-bitty scraps of paper... maybe a gluestick or two. 

"OK, time to clean. "

First a little music and something to think about. 

Today's photo challenge is a picture of the word "call" 

Call. 

The thing worth dedicating life to. 

Call has always been an important word for me.  It embodies the idea that God made us each in a particular way and there are journies that we each go on in life where we find and do the work that is worth our humanity. It is the place where we fit... or it the place where we are wildly uncomfortable but God has led us to be. 

Before I had children,  I had a clear vocational call. Social justice. I worked in the poorest places in the world with a desire to empower people there to make changes to improve their communities. 

When I married a bioengineer, I  knew I would likely be tethered to the affluent places in the world and that my call would likely have to change. It was a very hard decision to make but I felt sure that God would be able to find ways for me to continue my work even if I called the Bay Area home base.  

The kids came along.  We moved.  Life happened.  I found myself running a startup.  Call had changed. Covid happened.  I left work. I homeschooled my kids and had a baby.  Call changed again. 

For the past few years I've been on a journey to reinvent myself. To imagine what my call might be when the kids grow up. And if it when the time and space will be for me to reach again beyond the walls of the house.  

So my thoughts turn to "call" as I clean up legos off the floor.  What picture could I take that would visualize the journey I've made,  with the journey that I am on,  with the heart that I have for the world. 

What is worth my humanity?

This is. 

Cleaning up legos.  

Raising amazing little humans who have unique gifts and a call of their own. 

This is transcendence.  Life beyond myself.  A thing worth sacrifice. 

Day 8: it's like kindergarten all over again

We sauntered along the path next to the railroad track. The last light of day cast a golden glow around us and the air was growing cool.  We both curled up in our hoodies. Eddie is almost as tall as me. His hair was tangled. He is a full fledged teenager and we were on our way to open house at the high school to help answer the question - what's next for Eddie?

It feels like kindergarten all over again.  The world expanding in front of him and I feel nervous that he might not be ready for it. I want to hover.  I have to push back my urge.  

He turns to me. 

"Let's play a game. We each name a super power and we each name a limitation to that power. You go first,  name a power. "

"Ummm... x-ray vision. "

"OK,  but you can only see through grass.  My turn.  Teleportation. What is the limit?"

"You can only teleport 6 inches in front of you. "

"What power is more useful? X-ray through grass or teleporting 6 inches?

We carried on like this as we walked. 

His innocence is so precious.  How are we getting ready for highschool? Is high school even the right place for him?

Eddie's not a typical kid and I've been thinking about this decision for the last three years. 

We found our way into the busy gymnasium bustling with tables marked "math" and "student government. " Eddie shrink back into his shell - semi interested teenaged grunting as we strolled around the room.  

After talking to a few tables, I asked him if there was anything he wanted to see.  

"What about clubs?" He asked. 

I found out where the club section was and we headed over. 

Spanish club - no

Dance team -- ha ha no. 

Then he spied side by side - Robotics and chess. He b- lined over. Learned about the robotics program then started up a speed game of chess. 

"I recognize that open" his opponent said. Then the two fell into a silent battle.  

Like talking about super powers on our walk, he perked right up. His eyes twinkled.  His body straightened. The disengaged teenager from a few moments ago was replaced by the excited boy that I know shows up anytime there is a good game to play.   He found people that spoke his language. 

They finished the game. His opponent smiled at me.  

"He's good. " he said. 

I smiled. We walked away and out into the night.

We talked about the pluses and minuses of different highschool options we've visited so far.  

I decided to treat the decision for highschool as a test run for what we might do when he is getting close to graduation and we need to think about college and job. 

We've visited two highschools so far. They are very different and I'm not sure which would be the better choice between the two. There are still more on our list and so we continue through the process. 

I'm glad it's a process.  I still don't feel ready. 

I remember feeling this way when Andrew was heading off to kindergarten.  He was afraid of toilets and hand dryers. He struggled with crowds. How in the world would he be ready for a class of 26 five year olds. 

I held my breath.  Dropped him off. And left. 

Whether they are 2 or 5 or 15 or 50. I think trusting God with our kids might be one of the gauntlets of faith. From the sideline of their life it is easy to see the pitfalls and hurts coming along the road. I know from my own experience living that some things are hard to heal from.  Somethings hurt forever.  And yet,  somehow,  I'm supposed to send my little guys out into the world to find their call and their place in it knowing how narrow the road can be. 

God has them. Surely as God has me. I just need to keep remembering this.

Day 7: My body perpetually disappoints me

 

I had my headphones and big plans for my playlist. I decided to leave from the kids school so I could run through the beautiful vineyard country that laid just beyond the parking lot. 

There was a great trail that led alongside a creek, under the road and through vineyards for about 2 miles into the country. The weather was perfect running weather, cool, almost rainy. My Playlist was an experiment. I usually run to dance music. Today I ran to cathedral chants.

I pressed start on my running app and play on Spotify and headed out. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

I am a slow runner. And the first few miles are bit of a battle as my body cranks on whatever physiology or hormones that make long runs feel amazing. 

Observing my slow ass body trying to get itself in gear and the new green of spring while the smell of rain hung in the air.   The haunting notes of a sacred chord, high then low, layering with reverberations off  some walls transported some part of me to an ancient cathedral where light streams in through stained glass and I felt myself on a kneeler watching myself struggle to run as a type of prayer. Old men whizzed pass me and I plodded on slowly as fingers trace the beads of a rosary.  

Having a body is a spiritual discipline. 

In prayer, the spiritual part of me is unfettered and unlimited. It feels timeless and hasn't seemed to age or change too much since I was a child. 

My physical, biological being is constantly changing.  It is limited and grounded in the present moment and I am often painfully reminded of its limitations.  

But this struggle with limitations, I believe, is spiritual. God became flesh and dwelt among us. Jesus struggled with limitations of his body. Hunger, pain, fatigue, mental anguish. Jesus was born and had to learn to walk. Jesus went through puberty and had a brain and heart and stomach to wrestle with.  

My body perpetually disappoints me. I think this is hard to admit and wrestle with. On one hand there are messages out there that compel us to master our bodies -- to subjugate them to our will. If we can develop mental acuity we can conquer physical challenges. We can lose weight. We can perform athletically. We can dismiss pain and suffering. We can power through and work despite our stress, fatigue or frailty.

On the other hand, there are messages out there that free us from control over our biological limitations. We can embrace comfort and not push through or deny ourselves any hunger or desire that the body craves. 

These two extreme positions try to sweep the spiritual practice of having a body under the rug. To hold disappointment in one hand and grace in the other. To say, I am whole and wonderfully made just as I am but to also take steps to push our bodies to be better in some way or another. Even as we age and our bodies and minds decline.

Right now,  I'm heavier than I've been in 20 years (not including pregnancies), I've had set back after setback on my nutrition and exercise routines due to chronic autoimmune disease and disentangling parts of my frustration that stem from vanity and societal images and parts that stem from a stewardship of my health that allows me to vibrantly live out my call is a thorny and very spiritual practice.  

But this moment of struggle is not the only time my body has led me though spiritual growth. Wrestling with mental health as a teenager taught me that faith was bigger than our emotions or even our cognitive ability.   Pregnancy, labor,  birth and post-partum have always been a time of spiritual formation to put it lightly. Working in the field of fertility and walking with couples who couldn't conceive opened my heart to a level of disappointment in the body that is hard to describe. Moments of pain taught me what wordless prayer looks like. Diagnosis of my autoimmune disease and subsequent covid pandemic was a journey through wrestling with my mortality that has spiritually matured me in ways that perhaps nothing else short of terminal illness could. Watching people journey through the end of life has opened me to how many different ways our bodies fail us and what it can look like to walk with God in that final season

My body perpetually disappoints me but disappointment has illuminated scripture and taught me to lean on God in ways that I never could have otherwise.  

It is inevitable that our bodies will disappoint us.  The ashes placed on our foreheads at the beginning of this season remind us that we will return to dust.  

Our bodies will fail.  

But those same ashes remind us that we are known,  called and loved.  We are marked.  All of us including the disappointing parts. We are whole,  even when we are broken and there is no where that we can go that God does not go with us. 

God is with us when we feel frumpy and nothing fits right.

God is with us when we are too tired,  too sick, in too much pain or even too drunk to get out of bed. 

God is with us when our minds lie to us,  when our memory fails,  when we pee ourselves in public and when we find hairs growing in strange places. 

God knows us by name and knows the ever changing number of hairs on our heads.

And so today I cherish this slow,  tired disappointing body for the miracle that it is and I won't give up on it. Me and it are on this journey together and that is a beautiful thing. 

Day 6: slinkys are a pain to deal with

 

I was cleaning the house and picked up this slinky for the millionth time.  As I held it in my hand,  I pondered whether I should put it away or throw it away.  It is bent and twisted as slinkys inevitably become.  I have faithfully untangled and straightened this particular slinky for months.  

I continued to clean and found a string of mardi gras beads.  I picked them up along with a plastic cup,  a couple of legos and a banana peel. I threw the cup in the sink,  the legos in the drawer and then had to decide what to do with the slinky and the beads. 

In the few moments I had held them in my hand and walked around the house, they had knotted themselves in an inexplicable jumble.  

"How in the world?... "

I plopped on the couch and methodically,  patiently,  slowly untangled them.  It was completely unfathomable how much they had gotten tangled up.  I smiled.  Sometimes,  it's  ridiculous how much I get tangled up on myself. 

There is a marvelous,  satisfying beauty to a slinky propelling itself down a set of stairs.  But honestly,  how often do kids play with slinky this way.  In my house, they are wrapped around chairs and used to pull wagons or worn as some sort of magical amulet around the bicep.  And they tangle within seconds.  

I start my day full of possibly.  A perfectly stacked slinky as I climb out of bed. But mere moments into the morning I find myself knotted up over myself and I have to sit down and patiently sit and sit sort myself out..

I wonder if God tires of my endless piles of tangle?

I'm a master of untangling slinkys. Slowly,  curve by curve,  I trace the edge until it is a smooth even pile. 

The same way God methodically untangles my heart,  tracing my edges with gentle hands. Reordering all my thoughts and jumbled emotions into a smooth pile.  I feel better and the moment I head out is only a matter of minutes that I begin to tangle myself up again.

I think that is human nature,  like slinkys,  we tangle easily. And spiritual practices, prayer,  scripture,  worship,  meditation, silence and the like are tools that God has given us to help untangle ourselves.  Sometimes,  we set up right in the morning and we can make it through a day without too much problem,  but other days,  we tangle and we tangle and we tangle and we have to turn again and again to these practices to undo those knots. And sometimes,  we get so tangled up,  it feels like there is no way we'll ever get smoothed out again. And yet,  with enough time and patience and openness,  God can work through all the wild knots of our hearts and set us down in one smooth satisfying pile.  

Day 5: Jesus gives the disciples a night off

This is the view from my rocking chair.  It means i made it to the end of the day and I'm rocking while the kids are listening to Audiobooks. I'm trying to figure out what to write about.  I've been exhausted all day,  so I searched verses on tiredness for this blog post.  To my amusement, one of the first verses that popped up was this section from the story of the feeding of the 5,000

30 The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. 31 Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

32 So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. 33 But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. 34 When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.

I never paid attention to the beginning before.  Picture it.  A long day.  Out with Jesus.  Everyone had split up and were managing different things. They gather up to debrief and Jesus notices how tired they are.  So he sneaks them away into a boat to get a quiet moment. The disciples sink into their seats and sigh out that deep breath.  Finally,  off duty.

But as they are drifting and talking,  Jesus looks out of the corner of his eye and sees people on the edge of the lake running ahead. I can almost hear him rolling his eyes and also I see his heart.  There's no choice but to minister to the crowd.  But the logistics aren't great.  Disciples are exhausted.  There's a huge crowd gathered far from town.  Kids are going to start getting hungry and crying.  

Then, in the midst of teaching,  Jesus does a miracle.  I had always thought that he feed the 5,000 because of his concern for the crowd.  But now seeing the setup... he did it maybe even more out of his concern for his disciples. In the midst of their work,  he sees they need down time and so he gives them a gift and takes care of dinner for everyone.  

In my tiredness,  this speaks to me.  Even in the mundane duty of working out my call,  there may be moments where God meets me in my tiredness and pulls up a little boat and takes me away to a quiet place. ... and takes care of dinner so I can take the night off.

How might I allow Jesus to multiply the fish and bread so that we can all just sit and enjoy the evening breeze? I think I'll sleep on it. 

  

Day 4: A Bible study for autistics

Andrew groaned at the table. It was homework time. He got up for a snack. He got up for a drink.  Finally,  he could procrastinate no more.  

I peeked over at what he was doing... religion.  

....aaaaaah now I get it. 

Religion homework is hard for Andrew. It's not a lot of writing.  It's a simple worksheet.  Very much what one might expect. A familiar story and the common reflective questions that show up in Bible studies.  

"How did God use so and so to do his plan despite their shortcomings?"

"What did so and so feel about God?"

The questions don't often pull directly from the text but rather ask the reader to pull between the lines.

Andrew flat refuses to do this. He has learned how to look for patterns and identify things like intent in stories and in people he meets. But the Bible has higher stakes.  

He looks at me blankly - like - how am I supposed to know God's plan or how God feels.  I'm obviously a limited human being. 

His teacher tells him to take it seriously.  So he does. But he takes it too seriously to complete the assignment.  And I wonder... 

what does a Bible study designed for autistics look like? 

And... 

if one exists,  I would probably enjoy it.  

Day 3: empty space

 Motherhood is full of small moments in between.  Waiting to drop off, waiting to pick up,  waiting for kids to finish eating,  waiting for kids to finish playing,  waiting... waiting but available. This is the rub. You are not needed,  but you might be.  So you sit,  like a doctor on call,  waiting to mother. 

Phones are such a blessing. In these small moments you can write a grocery list,  send a quick email,  schedule a dr appointment or scroll  social media and escape the small world of small children for something more intellectually simulating. 

Pulling back from my phone has reminded me how many of these small moments exist in my life.  I thought about what I might write in this blog. I looked for images for today's rethinkchurch word of the day "sign." 

Here are some pictures I took:

Some signs are in really unexpected places. 

In Genesis,  God set the sun and moon in the sky as a sign to mark the passing of days, months and years.  

The signs by Moses were a warning to Pharoah.

As a kid I didn't know that these flags marked underground pipes. Signs revealing the unseen.  Nearly every miracle in the Bible would be defined the same way. 

Sometimes signs a messages that you need to take with you...

Besides looking for signs (I was hoping God would send me a billboard) I reflected on the book I'm reading.  I thought about Alexei Navalny and how we still live in a world where speaking truth to power can cost you your life and... perhaps more importantly, there are still people willing to do it anyway. 

Then I passed a roadside memorial on the way to get Miles from school and the image connected al my thoughts ... the cross was a sign.  It was a sign that something terrible had happened in the side of the road but it was also a sign that even the most terrible thing that can happen doesn't get the last word. I wish I could have stopped to take the picture because that was the best sign I had seen. But I was heading to pickup a kid from school and couldn't stop. 😔

Empty space feels unproductive. All day I had an urge to pull out my phone and do something with the time I spent waiting on kids. I resisted and reflected.  It felt so very futile. Wouldn't it be better to make "good use" of my time?

Perhaps there is something better than making good use of time.  

Day 2: Morning liturgy

Back when I was working full time, I usually started my day at 4am to begin a ritual that allowed me to "fit" everything in.  I would dress in the dark and often nurse a baby. If the baby was tiny,  I would dress the baby (sometimes in adorable khakis and sweater vest) load them into the car and drive in the dark across town to a warmly lit truck stop that was just across from our company's little office. The office was cold and dark and lonely at that early hour,  so I preferred to set up shop at McDonald's where I could get breakfast,  caffiene and something that felt like community. I settled into the same booth and pulled out my planner and started planning the day.  I would have one big focus work task that I would target to finish during those precious quiet early morning hours.  It was a ritual that served me well in that season. It was a tool for productivity but there was also a liturgy in my conversation with everyone who worked there, spiritual intentions and prayers in my journal on days I could remember to do it and the precious little baby who held vigil over my work sleeping in his carrier that somehow tethered that time to the sacred.  

In 2020, life changed.  The baby who had joined my early morning work sessions had grown into a preschooler and I found myself pregnant once again.  The pandemic replaced my early morning work sessions with zoom calls that quickly made me rethink my morning ritual.  I left my job and built a new routine to give our family structure in a time when everything felt uncertain.  I traded early mornings for longer sleep that my pregnant body needed and cuddles with kids who found their way into my room. I then started every day with a 3 mile walk.  Getting everyone dressed and out into the natural light and air did wonders for setting the kids up for a good day.  We walked all the morning errands.  Picked up groceries,  breakfast and stopped to play at the park before we got home and started our day sometime after 10. By the time we got back,  the kids were ready to sit and study and I was clear headed with a plan for the day.  

Years have passed and I again have been feeling like my morning rituals no longer serve me.  The kids have gone back to school.  I still have a toddler who still wakes me up from time to time.  So I wake up with enough time to get them out the door,  but not much extra. Times when I do wake up a little early,  I check my email and the weather.  Sometimes I'll check in on my social media,  them I drag my tired self out of bed, get dressed and make the bed.  Then I'll saunter out and start packing lunches and cleaning the kitchen. It's not terribly inspiring. 

One of the books I'm reading,  "Rituals of the household," talks about life as liturgy. I've been pondering that.  How do the rhythms of my ordinary life act as liturgy for me or my family? Are the small intentions, rituals or habits that I can build into these rhythms that will turn me towards God or build the faith of my children?

I decided to explore this as part of Lent.  I committed to one small practice.  I will get up at 6 and drink tea with Ulrich and I won't look at my phone until kids are almost ready to head out the door - in case there are important emails from school. 

Today was my first real morning trying on this new morning routine.  It was just lovely. Zander crept into my room around 5:30. He was a little restless and I could tell he was ready to get up.  So I asked if he wanted to go play trains.  We crept out of the room and turned on a soft light.  I got the tea kettle started and he started playing trains.  I made tea and curled up on the couch, blissfully unaware of any text or email messages that would be waiting for me, and watched him play.  Ulrich joined me and we silently drank our tea.  Other boys joined and slowly I moved towards breakfast. 

I noticed a calmness in myself.  Making breakfast before the bed was made,  before I knew what tasks I needed to do that day. I can imagine this liturgy evolving.  Perhaps some call and response between me and Zander. Perhaps a prayer of gratitude to accompany the opening of the certains. A holy silence waiting for the water to boil.

Liturgy changes with the season and as life brings new seasons there comes times to reimagine the habits and rituals that govern large parts of our ordinary life.  Our waking and sleeping,  bathing and eating,  cleaning and driving. Life lived well in these small moments can add a tremendous amount of stability and resilience to our lives. Finding God with us in the ordinary keeps faith close and allows it to bleed into and color the rest of our day. 

May you find God with you in the most ordinary of places this day.  

Day 1: The Day of Ashes

 

I went to the kids school this morning because I needed to talk to the principal about some things, but I ended up staying for chapel. The pastor gave this great simple message to the kids where he juxtaposed two powerful images about ashes

First, he conjured the feeling of camping and how the black soot of ashes from the campfire seem to get on everything and how by the end of the trip everything seems to smell like smoke.

Then he described the images from the old testament of repentance or grief. Ripping of clothes and the wearing of sackcloth and ashes. He described it simply as a way to show publicly that you are going through a difficult time. 

From dust you came,  to dust you shall return.

The two images rolled around in my head all day.  Some humorous pictures popped up... my kids dressed in sackcloth running around a campfire; Job grieving with friends and kids throwing ashes and totally running the somber vibe.

But I also thought about how grief and guilt stick around like the smell of a campfire. How they are inevitable parts of life as much as kids covered in filth is an inevitable part of camping.  

We do not escape death.  One day,  the log finishes burning and the light and warmth go out.  The ashes on our forehead remind us of this. But they are in the shape of a cross to remind us that there is nowhere,  not even into death, where we can go that God will not be with us. 

Today I start practices to listen and to seek God.  But God has never left me.  Like the smell of smoke,  God is an ever present unseen presence who holds and guides and comforts me no matter what. 

Day 0: What are you doing for Lent this year?

I have a ritual to schedule a call with my best friend in early February to review our Lent game plans ahead of Ash Wednesday. This year, we had a luxuriously long call during the Super Bowl. We noticed that the past few years have been a little underwhelming and we both felt like we craved a more meaningful Lent this year and like shopping hungry -- our list of potential practices were a little ambitious and needed to be paired down a little to be more realistic. So... in this post, I decided to share what made the list and also, some things I considered but will hold off for another year. 

Giving up:

• Diet coke
• Going out to work (instead of working at home)
• Parenting after 9:30pm
• Limited media and social media (no scrolling)
• Generally goofing off on my phone
• Unnecessary purchases
• Limiting fast food, snacks and "drinks" as a family
• Kids are giving up video games
• Intermittent fasting at least 14 hours a day

Adding

• Daily 15 minutes of exercise paired with prayer or spiritual music
• Permission to workout as long as my body wants to even if it means less "productive" day
• 15 minutes of reading things off my reading list - aiming to complete "A Life Worth Living" "Atomic Habits" and "Habits of the household: Practicing the story of God in everyday family rhythms"
• Daily Blog post and possibly bonus daily photo or artwork
• One additional "Zander" day - 2 full weekdays with Zander instead of 1
• Morning tea with my spouse
• Self reflection practice -- curiosity to better understand where emotions, actions and words come from 
• Initiative to connect with people in my community -- being more present in conversation, warmer greeting, texting people I haven't talked to in a while, etc

Things I considered:

• Giving up laundry or cooking (we decided the house isn't quite ready for this level of spiritual growth)
• Processed food
• Some sort of "Date your spouse" challenge
• Giving up caring what the house looks like 
• Not yelling (I've tried, and spectacularly failed this one)
• Some sort of suspending judgement (I've also done this one before -- no nagging my husband or judging him -- it was a tough one)
• Giving up productivity -- not worrying about how much I get done.

The list looks a little long and random but really, I'm adding 3 big focuses that I hope will make for interesting introspection this Lent and lead me down new paths as I search to grow closer to God.

Practice 1: Blow up my morning and night routines to make space for more meaningful things

My evening and morning routines have gotten stale and are no longer serving to inspire or grow me or my family. So, I'm using Lent to shake things up and drop a bunch of stuff that used to be life-giving but has become a bit of a rut. As a pastor friend once said, Lent is when we pull out the pacifiers and live with the empty space they used to fill. There's a whole of pacifier in my current routine and its going to feel a bit strange to pull

Practice 2: Distance myself from marketing messages and be curious about what influences me

I have a hunch that while I'm not an overly commercial / consumer kind of person the sheer amount of marketing that structures our world has deep and profound impacts on how I see myself, how I raise my kids and even on my faith. So, I am going to try to distance myself from marketing and reflect on where thoughts, impulses, behaviors and beliefs that I have come from. I'm sure this will be interesting. 

As I reflected on where I might encounter marketing -- I realized it is everywhere and it will be difficult to avoid -- packaging, stores, coffee shops, restaurants, doctors offices, social media, news, signs along the road. I won't be able to avoid it -- but if I limit my time shopping and eating out, simplify the types of things I buy and limit my use of my phone, maybe I can cut the amount of marketing I'm exposed to in half? And perhaps, I'll be more mindful of where I see it and what kinds of messages are out there. 

I'm also curious to see where my own thoughts come from -- when I'm impatient -- asking myself why? Why do I feel impatient -- am I tired of waiting or do I feel like life is supposed to be fast and convenient? I want to hold myself with a bit more grace, as I have learned to do for my children, and observe where my emotions and beliefs come from and open more space for God to guide and intervene in matters of my heart.

Practice 3: Lean towards connection

If marketing and content is curated. If social media is the version of ourselves that we want the world to see. What if I leaned in and tried to see the world around me as it really is? 

My 3rd practice is to live with a slowness and presence so as to have space to really see and connect with people around me. Change up my greeting to ask about something specific or invite to actually share life. Text people I usually just connect with on social media.  

This includes connecting with and making real space for people in my own family. Taking Zander out of daycare one more day a week to spend 2 days, rather than 1. And in doing this I will have time to just spend an hour helping him learn how to get dressed. There is a patience that comes from slowing down enough to allow a little one learn how to do things on their own. It is infuriately slow. But, it blossoms with an awareness of the world that we cannot take in when we move at the speed of grown-ups. 

Wrestling with my need to be productive

Inevitably, all this space for reflection and connection is going to come from somewhere... and so.. I am certain that as a byproduct I am, in a way, giving up productivity for Lent. I'll probably bill fewer hours in my consulting role or maybe my house will get more messy than I want it to be. And.. I'll have all kinds of opportunities to reflect on my emotions and beliefs around things like billable hours, a tidy home and getting places on time and I will have the change to wrestle with how I am shaped by marketing and the culture around me and how I am shaped by a timeless God who loves me tirelessly. 

I have a sense there is a going to be a lot of kicking and screaming this Lent. But... bring it on. I'm feeling spicy.