Day 47: He is Risen!

 

We stood in a solemn circle at the edge of the church's garden. The warm sunlight on our backs and the birds singing all around us. They were all dressed in their frilly dresses

This is a beautiful place.  Often when people die,  we bring them to rest in a beautiful place.  Who has lost a person or a pet? What did you do after that?

They share stories of spreading ashes and funerals.  

Jesus died late in Friday.  His friends were terribly sad.  They could not leave him on the cross. So they took him down and brought him to a beautiful place like this. They set him in a cave.  But they did not have time to bury him properly.  It was too late. So they put a big stone in front of the cave and made a plan to come back to say goodbye. 

What is the day after Friday?

Saturday. 

Do you remember what Jewish people are not allowed to do on Saturday?

Um.... um.... oh. Oh oh oh. They can't work.

That's right.  And burying someone is considered work.  

So on Saturday,  they sat at home thinking about Jesus. Wanting to finish his burial.  They sat and felt sad.  

As soon as the first bit of light rose in the sky on Sunday morning all the women who loved Jesus ran to his grave to finish his burial.  But when they entered the garden they could see from a long way that the big stone was gone.

 Something was wrong.

They were afraid.  Who could have come and stolen his body? Who would even do that? 

They walked cautiously to the grave. Looking for signs of who might have taken him. When suddenly an angel in bright clothes came out and said

Jesus is not dead.  He is alive!

And when they turned.  They saw him.  He was alive! He was there in the garden alive and breathing.  

They ran to him and then they ran back to tell the disciples.

Now somewhere in this beautiful garden,  Jesus is hiding.

But there is something else. 

Jesus is the Good Shephard. And Jesus will not stop until all of his sheep are with him. So our in this garden are also 100 naughty sheep who escaped.  We need to find all of them. 

They dashed into the field. 10 sheep, 20.

34 sheep. 

57 sheep.  

82.

The sheep were tiny.  The garden was silent as diligent lookers looked for sheep.  It was meditative. The warm sun on my back,  my eyes trained on the ground. The sheep were tiny and the grass was tall.  Maybe we wouldn't find them.  

Found one!

Every couple of minutes we'd find another and everyone would cheer.

85.

91.

97.

Jesus won't stop until he brings every last one of us home. 

Alleluia. He has risen indeed. 

Day 46: Holding vigil with children

 We went a few rounds with how to spend the day.  There were house projects that could be done.  Beautiful weather to enjoy.  Easter to prepare for. And 5 boys to consider.  

I went for my morning run, then I took Zander to the grocery store. During the morning errands I had time to think and realized that ending Lent was a big deal to the kids and getting video games back on a day crammed with church and family was probably not going to go over well.  Plus I wanted a less rushed was to usher in Easter.  I wanted to linger in the story.  

So we decided to hold our own vigil.  

The first 3 hours of the vigil was cleaning the property front to back.  We started with clipping bushes and sweeping sidewalks.  We cleaned the porch,  washed windows and moved inside.  Mopping,  dusting,  vacuuming.  Room by room.  The boys worked eagerly.  40 days of waiting for Minecraft will do that to a kid.  

They started losing steam by the time we got to the back yard,  so I decided to skip organizing the shed. But I got a good 3 hours out of them and that felt like a win.  

It felt like a vigil. 

We were making our home ready for the risen Lord. I think the boys felt that in some place.  They were diligent in their work. It felt like a good way to meditate on the coming celebration. 

Supplies for Easter basket were in my room.  I don't usually do Easter baskets but miles had counted down the days of Lent faithfully.  He had read a book about chocolate bunnies and he spied them in the grocery store "look mom,  a rabbit wrapped in cellophane!!!" I had to get it.  So I added a few more treats and a little gift for each boy.  A new train for Zander.  A stuffie for miles.  Books for the older boys and fidgets for the whole group.  

The pile of goodies lay on the floor next to my bed. I assigned the job to miles.  Build the Easter basket.  His eyes widened with joy. And he hurried to get to work.  

Eddie,  grab "The lion the witch and the wardrobe. "

Philip,  Andrew "get snacks for everyone and meet me in the back yard."

The boys rushed off to prepare their jobs for our unconventional family service.  Snacks,  drinks,  a book, and all the boys settling into swings ready to rest and listen. 

I had seen on Facebook several years ago that one of the families from my church growing up gathered together on good Friday to read the appropriate sections of "The lion, the witch and the wardrobe " with the children. I thought it a beautiful way to remember the passion in a way that works for littles. 

At this point,  we've read the whole series 3 or 4 times,  so my boys know the story well.  I cracked the book and started reading. Recognition dawned on them as they heard analogs to the real story.  Sadness in the garden.  Walking on,  alone.  Accompanied by women up the hill.  The jeering and humiliation.  Even Peter, the high king of Narnia and the rock upon which the church would be built.  As I read,  the boys piped up the commentary.  

Lucy and Susan held vigil over Aslan through the night. Cold and sad, they sat with the body. 

"That's the vigil,  mom!" A chorus of boys rang out. 

"You are right." I replied.  And so we switch to the vigil readings. But we are going to do this as a game. I am going to start the reading and you are going to tell me the story and the book of the Bible. And you're going to tell me why you think it would be added to the list of readings for the vigil. Also,  you can guess what story might be next "

And so I read the readings. Creation.  The flood.  Abraham. The parting of the sea.  Psalms.  Isaiah.  Ezekiel and the dry bones.  

I only read a few words to start each before they interrupted with the summary and their ideas about why that story was chosen. 

Finally I started the reading of the resurrection.  I gave a few words at a time. 

"Palm Sunday?" Philip guessed. 

By the second sentence, they knew and they jumped up our of their swings.  

"You're right! Miles go get the Easter basket and bring it out. "

Miles hurried out and came back with the basket of treats. He set it in the middle of the circle. I finished the reading and then switched back to Narnia and read the analogous part.  I read up through the part where Aslan begins to revive the statues in the witch's garden. 

When I finished there were "Aleluias he has risen!" As boys dove into the basket.  Chocolate and everyone talking at once. Zander overcome with joy at his new train.  

We were there.  We came to the dark quiet garden and bore witness to the risen Lord. He was not there where we left him on Friday.  He was gone.  

I told the boys afterward that we now have the same job as those women.  We are going to church early tomorrow to hide eggs and play bells. We are going early to help the church tell the story.  Just like the women.  They ran back and told the disciples.  

They smiled at me.  They loved the job.  They are excited to do it. I am too. 

"Alleluia! HE HAS RISEN! "

"He has risen indeed, Alleluia!!"

See you tomorrow.  It's time to party!

Day 44: My God, My God why have you forsaken me

For many years,  this verse was a deep comfort. 

To tell the story,  we have to go back to my 8th grade self. I had one of those God moments that are written about in books.  That's a story for another day but the main point is - I had the "juice."

I was young and naive and able to trust God beyond common sense.  I walked from miracle to miracle.  The lives of the faithful had all been marked by miracles in nearly all the stories I had read,  so I assumed that's what life lived by faith looked like.  

I had moved to Haiti and started a computer school. I traveled around gathering donations and bringing them to people who needed them. I stayed with strangers. I escaped danger. And I trusted God fully.  

But one day,  things turned. People got angry at me.  Blamed me for problems and turned on me. I found myself alone, far from home, in a big empty Haitian church.  And I prayed my heart out.  I prayed for wisdom. I prayed for next steps.  I prayed to an impenetrable wall.  

The Spirit of God had gone away from me. 

I was cloaked in grief. 

Inconsolable grief.  

Why would God leave me? 

Where had God gone? 

How could I live without the presence of God going before me?

"My God,  My God,  why have you forsaken me?"

I pondered those words from Christ. 

Why had God gone away In the moment of Jesus greatest suffering? 

How could God go away when Christ was God?

I held on to those words as almost a promise.  They were a mystery.  Perhaps one of the deepest mysteries of faith.  

God is with us always.  And yet.  In this moment,  in the hardest obedience, Jesus was alone without the presence of God.  

God was at work in the cross. God can be at work in me in the moments where I cannot find God.  

Next next few years were a haze. I had lost my constant companion and guide and I cycle through the stages of grief. Rage,  bargaining,  despair, denial, acceptance and rage again.  And nothing but darkness and silence from God no matter how much I begged for just one moment of certainty.  

And Jesus said to Thomas.  "Blessed are those who do not see and yet believe. "

I must learn to live out faith in the absence of God.  And so I did.  I continued my work.  I carried on a before just without miracles or certainty or clarity. 

I kept going in the fog of uncertainty.  Placing one foot in front of the other. Jesus pleading to God from the cross affixed in my mind. 

And one day,  God came back.  Differently. More shadowy.  Harder to see.  Harder to know.  But there. 

Those words get me every Good Friday.  I have no way to empathize with Jesus.  The suffering. The separation from God that dark afternoon.  But I had a season where the sun was blotted out from the place where God should have been and my world was dark.  And I thank Jesus for that cry. His words gave me strength. 

 

Day 43: I'll never be satisfied

While fasting, I gave myself one exception.  I could drink anything that was caffiene- free and calorie free (or very low calorie). 

Through out the day I got myself special little drinks, but what would normally be very satisfying fell flat. There was no sustenance and as much as they had lovely flavor and cool refreshment,  they could not quench my need. I almost didn't want to drink them. 

It didn't matter how much I drank, I still felt empty.  My mind started thinking about verses about being satisfied 

 "Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

"Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled"

I've had to work a lot on trying to be content.  But nature, I'm restless.  There is so much need in the world.  So much I can and should do. 

Like drinking on an empty stomach,  I can work and do and achieve and still feel unsatisfied.  I want to make the world a better place.  The world is just so damn big and I am just so limited. 

But these two verses offer two very beautiful promises.  

1. In faith,  we can be quenched.  We can find water that satisfies. 

2. We are blessed when we hunger for a just and equitable world, at the banquet we shall be filled. 

During my days of fasting,  I think about my dinner feast and there is that hope of delicious favorite foods that helps me keep pushing through. 

These is a day coming where we will be satisfied. When the world will be healed and whole,  just and equitable.  It will be a feast for the soul that will satisfy. True contentment like post- Thanksgiving pie. 

I look forward to day. Easter is around the corner. 

Day 42: Jesus and Jazz

 I felt my bones ache with homesickness the moment I walked in the room.  I hadn't expected that.  We were early for service,  Andrew was dressed up to help serve Communion.  We had been talking about confirmation,  Easter and the early church.  All my thoughts were on him and on helping him learn the rhythm of this holy week.  

But when I walked in the sanctuary,  the musicians were practicing. The normal chairs in rows had been replaced by card tables covered in crisp white linens with glasses and a candle.  

And I was transported. 

Back to a time before kids when I had all the time in the world for music and good food and experimental worship services.  I remember preaching and living in community so beautifully that it made me think that was what the early church must have been like.  

And then we moved and had kids and started a startup and the memory of that life faded from view.  

I tell stories from time to time or share best practices,  things that worked, different ways to being church. But I hadn't felt it in my bones for ages. I didn't realize how much I missed it. 

As I sat,  soaking it in,  I saw Philip intently watching the drummer quietly moving his hands and feet in rhythm with her.  I saw Andrew uncomfortably,  but diligently playing his role. And I felt a joy of sharing something of my past with boys now old enough to understand it.  

Service began.  It was set in a jazz restaurant.  Four chairs around square tables scattered around the alter. Musicians jamming the prelude behind it. Trumpet, trombone,  piano, recorder, cello, each taking a turn at lead.  Music gave way to the reading of the gospel of John.  

 Heated towels were brought to tables by servers (the confirmands dressed in full formal blacks) and handed to us with tongs. We washed each other's hands. Baskets of bread and casks of wine brought and shared around the table. It felt light and lively and I was transported back in time to those lively early gatherings of the church when people broke bread to celebrate the resurrection.  It was a party. 

The service grew serious as we moved to Gethsemane. Lights went low.  Instruments dropped from the ensemble until we were left with just the cello.  Jesus alone in the garden praying.  Jesus betrayed.  

We stripped the alter in darkness and silence. Strike the candles. Strike the flowers and the white linens.  Hand in hand we carried them away.  The alter bare. The Christ candle alone in the darkness. The music stopped.  The jazz was gone.  

So many things stirred in me.  

The music in my soul. I wanted to be in the band.  

The story,  the service,  the preaching.  

My kids participating.  

Sitting with friends.  Friends who felt like me than acquaintances. Friends who I have shared life with. I was homesick and home at the same time.  

I was content and longing.  

Warm towels delivered by Andrew who was wearing a suit because he wanted to participate in the ancient tradition of catechumens joining worship during Holy week. 

The ancient and the contemporary blending in the room and in my heart.  

The spirit of God hovered over me in all these things and called me forward into some unknown future while connecting me to a rich and beautiful past. 

And in all these things i felt like I had spent an hour with Jesus

He reminded me of the simple command followed me out of the room: Love each other as I have loved you.  

"I'll try, Jesus,  I'll try. "

Day 41: Parenting teenagers

It was just before 6 am. I swear I could hear the front door open and close.  I reached my hand across the bed. Ulrich was still there sleeping. Zander was snuggled in close to me.  He must have shown up sometime in the night.  I was sleepy and confused.  I drifted back to sleep. 

30 minutes later,  Philip came creeping in and all of us were starting to stir. I heard the front door again.  I reached again.  Ulrich was still there.  

"Eddie?" I tried.  

"Yes mom. " came the chipper voice.  

Eddie is always the last one up.  Usually I have to drag him out of bed at 8:00 after the littles have left for school.  My wheels started turning... I was still groggy and waking up.  

"Eddie,  come here.  Were you outside?"

"Ya,  I went for a scoot."

"Were you up all night?"

".... ..... .... um ya. "

It is a common problem among neurodivergent folks to struggle with insomnia.  Eddie has for most of his life. He's pulled more all-nighters in his 15 years than I have in my nearly 45. 

His brain gets ultra- fixated on something and just can't let go. Common culprits include contraband YouTube,  reading,  maybe even math.  Tonight,  it was Pathfinder, his favorite role playing game.  

Suddenly,  I was thrown into toddler parenting.  My goal for the day was to make sure he got lots of light,  de-escalated his brain and made it through with whatever function he can squeak out. 

I was annoyed.  This was a heavy school day.  I had set aside time for teaching and learning together.  But my plans were going to have to change.  

There's a special stress in homeschool.  When kids go to school I have a trust that they are "doing OK. " If I'm not hearing from teachers,  grades are reasonable and the kid isn't complaining,  I generally assume everything is as it should be.  

But education is like making sausage and when i started homeschooling I got a front row seat to the sausage factory. 

On one hand,  I know that homeschool is generally shorter hours and more flexible for the same amount of progress.  In the other hand,  I constantly worry that we don't get enough done. I want to be confident when I respond to people - yes,  homeschool was the right choice, they are doing great.  Here is all the proof. 

Days like today test me.  I feel like throwing the book at him.  "Natural conquences will teach him." I reason. "I need to push him anyways. "

My other voice chimes in,  "He needs to learn to master this disability.  We all have demons,  this is his.  Natural consequences don't show anyone how to fix something. They provide motivation."

I decided to teach. At great annoyance. 

It was a monastic day.  The boys helped me systematically clean the house. Make the beds.  Wash the laundry.  Sweep the floors.  Put away toys.  Clear the table.  Wash the dishes.  Take out the garbage.  After the house was in reasonable shape,  we walked to the grocery store for dinner ingredients. We stopped at the thrift store to pick up a waiter uniform for Andrew to wear to the Maundy Thursday service tomorrow. Andrew pointed out a sign that read "some days success is getting the laundry into the dryer before mildew sets in. " "Ain't that the truth" I thought.  "At least I for laundry done today. "

Then we went to church and stuffed candy into Easter eggs. We listened to the audio book "Life Worth Living" and we had a discussion about people we admired and people we wanted to be like and if those lists were the same or different.  I dropped Eddie at youth group with a scooter and a plan for him to scoot home. 

Bedtime was thoughtful. I reminded him of all the good habits that help sleep come easily and naturally. I took his laptop and many books.  I sat in the rocking chair next to his bed while the boys listened to books. He's not asleep yet but he's on his way. 

I don't have many years left with this boy. And I know this demon will follow him out into the world and he's going to have to learn on his own but I  want to give him a map, a practice,  a ritual to help him find his way back when he falls off the edge. 

Parenting is so hard and it is the thing that helps me know the heart of God. To love so hard and to give freedom at the same time. We're all a bunch of teenagers making poor choices.  And God is there loving us,  trying to give us a map,  a practice,  a ritual to find our way home. 

I have a lot of uncertainty in my theology,  but one thing I trust fully and know is that God will always draw us home.  We may take different routes.  

Each of my kids is different. Andrew doesn't struggle with all- nighters like Eddie does,  neither does Philip or Miles or Zander...  at least not yet. Eddie is different and his struggles are different and the way I parent him and the map and tools that I will try to give him are different than those I will give the others. 

I imagine it is this way with God. 

This week is one of those ever repeating parenting moments God spends on me. Like sitting in the rocking chair next to Eddie's bed,  God walks me through the week, the story,  the same questions I always wrestle with.  Etching ever deeper the way home, those things that bring me back when my life goes off the rails and I don't have the capability to find my way back on my own.  

I'm thankful that God keeps working on me. 

To all of you parenting teenagers (and little people).  God be with you.  Grant you wisdom to find the right tools and rituals to give them a map back from wherever they go that makes you worry.  And may God grant you peace in knowing that you are not alone in parenting that child. God is parenting them with you.  God will be with them even in places you cannot be.  And may,  at the end of the day,  God remind you how very precious that baby is, how they've filled your heart with joy over the years and how they've changed you as much as you have raised them.  

Thank you God for parenting me. And thank you for teaching me through my children. And thank you for teaching me how to parent my children. Continue to focus my heart with love and my mind with wisdom that I may reflect you to them as they reflect you to me.  

Amen. 

Day 40: Freedom

 I braced myself for another hard day. 

For Holy Week I've decided to do a fast until the evening meal.  It's been a daily micro-walk through the passion story. Remembering the passion when I'm hungry or uncomfortable and Easter when I'm tasting the feast at the end of the day.  

Yesterday was hard. I was still having caffiene withdrawal and I haven't done a long fast in a while so my body was not ready.  I was nauseous by like 2pm and clawed my way to the end of the day.  But everything was better with pizza.  

So, this morning,  I braced myself for today.  The hardness of it gave me all the more resolve that it was a good practice even if it meant I didn't get a lot done this week. 

I went about my morning. Drinking my water at McDonald's while the boys had breakfast. I chuckled looking at the cup lid.  Like God was telling me something.

I came home and helped the boys with school and cleaned. I went for a short run.  We picked up Zander and went for a walk,  then we went to the church to stuff candy into Easter eggs. I chuckled again looking at little bag of dark chocolates.  

Then I realized, it was 1pm and I didn't have a headache yet.  Not did I really feel that hungry. Interesting.  But afternoon was coming.  Zander was sure to melt down in the midst of a sudden onset of discomfort.... I was sure of it.

I dropped Eddie off to the gym and Andrew off to bell practice.  They both had scooters and would bring themselves home in an hour and a half.  For now,  it was just me and Zander.  

Zander was hungry so I made him a plate of grapes and chicken nuggets. I vowed that I would be eating chicken nuggets this week or other crap food. If I'm going to eat,  it has to be at least semi resurrection worthy.  It has to make my heart smile to eat it.  

Eddie and Andrew showed up on time and Ulrich came 20 minutes later while Zander and I were building an epic train track.  

I left to pickup miles and Philip from school.  We often go to McDonald's for homework.  It's easier to focus there for miles.  So we got a snack and the two boys went to work.  I pulled out my calendar and started working on hourly plans for the rest of the week. 

As I calendared, it dawned on me. It was 4pm. No hunger.  No headache. 

Maybe I've done it.  Maybe I'm free from the caffiene withdrawal.  

The verse popped into my head "if the son sets you free,  then you shall be free indeed. "

It was a tiny moment of freedom. I felt fine.  Normal. I wasn't in pain or hunger. I didn't feel brain fog.  

I came home to dinner cooking. I expected the scent to bring on the hunger but it never came. When it was time to eat,  I ate and when I finished,  I felt the same. The food was good and I was content but my body didn't feel full,  it just felt done eating. 

"They shall not hunger anymore,  nor shall they thirst."

To be born into the resurrection I think may be an experience of freedom that we could scarce imagine.  A physical, biological existence but one free from the limitations - able, pain free,  addiction free, hunger free,  groggy free, stress free, free from exhaustion. 

Perhaps this is why they didn't recognize Jesus. He was free and he is calling us into that freedom. 

Day 39: Saved by a forgotten swimsuit

The forecast was in the 80s. Miles had tutoring and wouldn't have any homework. I was tired and looking for an easy evening. So I made the classic mom plan - pizza at the pool.  No dinner to make or clean up. Kids would come home tired and we would roll straight into bedtime. 

At 3pm, I showed up at the kids school.  Philip wanted to practice drums while Miles did tutoring. There was a book fair so we hit that up and Miles got a new Dogman book for showing so much growth and responsibility in recent weeks.  We headed to the car and I told him the plan for swimming and pizza. He was 100% for it.  If Miles was for it,  getting everyone else would be easy.  

We stopped at home and changed into swimsuits, grabbed some towels and headed right back out the door to pick up the pizza and Zander from daycare.  We got Zander and stopped at Domino's.  Then I realized,  I forgot Zanders swimsuit.  Annoyed with myself,  I turned back to the house and quickly ran to get Zander's swimsuit. 

It was nearing 5 o clock by the time I was headed to the club. I passed through an intersection and saw an ambulance hauling a ways down the road. As I continued,  i could see that it had turned and was coming full steam behind me. I pulled over to let it pass.  As I watched it plow through intersections ahead,  I wondered how much faster are they able to travel? How many life saving minutes do they gain? That ambulance looked like it was in a movie the way it was moving. 

As I arrived at the gym, I was in the left turn lane to turn in when a firetruck pulled up out of nowhere and turned in ahead of me.  There were three ambulances and two firetrucks  and other vehicles arriving.  It took me a second to process what I was seeing and adjust. 

I pulled forward and turned around in the church parking lot adjacent to the club. People were putting cones out across the clubs driveway.  With that many vehicles I speculated that something must have happened with the pool.  This was too big of a response for a medical emergency in the gym. But what could it be? The building wasn't on fire. 

Whatever it was,  we weren't swimming today. I prayed the whole way home.  That was a lot of vehicles. As soon as we got home,  I checked local Facebook groups.  Usually things like this get a thread going pretty quick.  I also checked email to see if the club has sent any messages like "The rec pool will be closed for the rest of the afternoon. " It was a warm day and usually there's a pretty big crowd on evenings like this.

Nothing.  

I passed out pizza and the kids fell into playing.  I flopped on the couch.  I checked Facebook again.  A thread had started but no real info yet.  Finally after 45 minutes or so, people who had been there added some light details. From what I could piece together, there was some sort of pipe break that caused chlorine gas to bubble into the pool and some people were exposed to it and at last 3 were hospitalized.  The details aren't formally released and maybe this isn't entirely accurate.  

But still...

If I had remembered Zander's swimsuit I might be writing this post from a hospital room - my own or one of my kids. Had we been there 15 minutes earlier we would have been right in the middle of the incident whatever it was.  

Life is fragile.  Our human bodies are fragile.  

Chlorine combined with sodium is salt we need to live.  Chlorine free in the air turns into acid when we breathe it in and gravely damages the lungs.  

One crack in a pipe can be a difference between pizza by the pool and an evening in the ER. I pray that everyone who was injured today finds healing.  

I had so many different things that happened today that I had considered writing about. But sometimes we blink and life takes a left turn. A car accident.  A new job.  A divorce. A heart attack.  Winning the lottery.  

My life didn't take a left turn today but it could have.  I am grateful. Grateful for my children tucked in bed.  Grateful for my health, for my breath and my tired aching body. Grateful for pizza and a backyard with swings. Grateful for brothers who have each other.  

Day 38: Palm Sunday

Holy week starts for my family the Saturday before Palm Sunday. Our church has a tradition of decorating the whole sanctuary and beyond with palms from people's yards.

We had a stubborn palm that had grown between our driveway and the sidewalk.  The bigger it got the more of a nuisance it became.  It blocked the view of the road.  It got in people's way who were walking by.  Every year,  I cut every last branch off and take them to church for Palm Sunday.  We finally cut it down a year or two ago and now only have a tiny palm near the house (which was also a volunteer and is also terribly placed near the sidewalk leading to the front door). 

This year,  I handed the loppers to Andrew and he cut the branches.  The boys had them loaded up before I got outside. 

We were the first ones at the church. A few more cars pull in moments later and everyone tumbles out dragging palm branches behind them. In under 30 minutes the church had been transformed. It almost looked like a jungle with palms draped over the piano and organ,  over doorways and around the alter.  In front of each pew and on the walls all around.  Green everywhere.  

I think about that first palm Sunday. Crowds of people hoping for a regime change.  Waiting for a good king to lead them into a golden age. But Jesus didn't ride a war horse into the city.  He wasn't there to topple the government or protest politics of the day.  

He was there to celebrate freedom with his friends. He was there to turn the world upside down by letting love run loose in all it power.  He was there to show us all that there is not one single thing greater than God's love and that through the love of God all things will be made new.  

I stand in the empty church ready to hear the story again.  Ready to be transformed and made new by Jesus again.  Ready to ask myself hard questions.... and ready to pass the story along to the smallest among us.  

Zander helped decorate on Saturday.  

Zander helped prepare for the king. 

Zander heard the story and helped make Communion bread with the rest of my Sunday school class. 

There were twelve of them gathered around me this morning. We baked Communion bread and re- told the story of passover. I told the story of the last super and the passion. 

One child exclaimed, Jesus broke the rules. "Once you die you are supposed to stay dead!" 

Yes,  God loves us in a way that breaks all the rules and there is no where,  including death,  where God will not be with us.   

Jesus gave us two commands. To love each other and to bear witness to the work of God in our lives. And so,  I pass the story on and soak in the joy of small people finding the love of God at church. 

Day 37: Laughter

 She HATES medical appointments.  Often I go with her for her sake and for the sake of all the medical personnel.

Yesterday,  she went to the dentist and needed to get three teeth pulled.  

She was a little tipsy when I picked her up.  She wanted to go to Walmart and get a few hair supplies to distract her from her teeth.  I was a little nervous she was going to get into to trouble. Alcohol, pain and anxiety usually add up to a fight with someone.  

I didn't want to go to Walmart.  I was making lunch when she called and I could tell she has been drinking.  But we needed chicken feed and God was tugging on my heart.  So I grabbed the car keys and headed out. 

She is fun to be with.  She jokes about everything including herself.  Including me being annoyed with her.  It's completely honest and disarming.  She loves me well and trusts me deeply and it felt like a one on one date with one of my kids. She told me all about the procedure and how she was a big girl doing it on her own. I told her I was proud of her and then we collapsed into joking.  

I told her to behave at Walmart and not to talk to anyone if they bothered her. She threw her arm around my waist and we walked in.  An old friend of hers was just in the entrance and they shared pictures of kids and grandkids and news of old so and so from around the block.  She introduced me as her mom and I was pulled into the circle to share pictures and news. 

Finally we made our way to the hair care section and grabbed my bag of chicken feed. I recommended ice cream for her and she got some frozen treats for my boys and we headed out to the car. 

We drove around for a while.  She wanted to show me a new church.  We stopped at a grocery store for a something that Walmart didn't have.  We danced in the parking lot and I sang spirituals. 

I reminded her that alcohol isn't great medicine for wound healing as I dropped her off and asked her to send me a picture of her new hair style once she finished. 

I headed home and realized that I had been to church. Both of us were reminded of God's grace.  Both were loved and beloved. It was a liturgy of getting through a crappy day.  Finding joy and laughter to replace pain and loneliness. 

I think errands with a good friend is church in the deepest way. May we all find grace to ask friends to join us in our discomfort and distract us from our worries. May we all find grace to open our hearts to unexpected phone calls of friends or relatives seeking connection. May we all find time for a little car pool karaoke and bad puns to make our day lighter and to invite God to come along. 

Day 36: Without caffiene

 I decided to fast from caffiene for the last two weeks of Lent. I'm not sure this was well thought out. 

I don't drink that much caffiene.  A couple of teas or diet cokes. Somewhere between 100 - 150mg on average.  

During spring break we were on an easy schedule and that allowed me to reduce caffiene gradually over the week.  I was down to 35mg a day and thought,  giving it up should be not too bad from this low level.  It will make a nice fast for Holy week.  

I'm 6 days in and I still feel the withdraw.  

A little science lesson. 

Caffiene does many things to make us feel alert.  But I'm going to focus on just one of them. Thinking and other mental activity causes our brain cells to use energy. As they use energy,  they release a chemical called adenosine.  Brain cells also are equipped with little pockets that the exact shape of the adenosine molecule. As more and more adenosine starts floating around in our brains,  it begins to bump into our brain cells and latches into the pockets where it fits perfectly.  As the pockets,  technically called receptors,  fill up with adenosine,  that sends the signal to the brain to start relaxing,  lower or heart rate and makes us feel sleepy.  Eventually,  we go to sleep and somehow the brain cleans out all the adenosine and in the morning we are fresh and alert. 

Enter caffiene.  Caffiene has a similar shape as adenosine.  But instead of locking into the pockets on our brain cells,  it blocks entry.  So the pockets or receptors don't register as being full but also the adenosine can't get in because the caffiene blocks the way.  Eventually, the body cleans out the caffiene and all the adenosine floating around takes the place and a sudden sleepiness can offer take us as the caffiene wears off.  

But the body starts to figure it out if we use caffiene regularly.  It starts creating extra pockets for adenosine.  So after a few days or weeks,  caffiene doesn't help as well. We either have to increase caffiene amount to compensate for higher number of adenosine receptors or drink a normal amount of caffiene to feel "normal."

When we stop taking caffiene we are extra sensative to adenosine.  We can start out fine but as the day wears on sleepiness come early,  headaches and other side effects come from all those extra receptors binding to all the adenosine in the brain.  

Again,  bodies adapt.  Over time,  receptors go away and we again have normal sensitivity to adenosine.  

Why science on a spiritual blog?

I've been tired all week, with minor headaches as I fast from caffiene.  

I've been thinking about this process happening in my brain and how I didn't think I drank enough caffiene to have such a strong withdrawal. 

I've thought about how the word "addiction" has such judgment attached to it and how powerful it is to recognize how we are creatures and our biology informs our experience of the world. It's easy to think of "addicts" as victims of their own bad choices. But are any of us really free from addiction, how ever benign? I've benefitted from learning about the 12 steps and looking at places in my life where I am powerless against myself. 

I think about Jesus in the desert and how he had power to turn stones to bread. How i have power at any moment to get relief from these withdrawal symptoms by having a tiny bit of caffiene, which is literally everywhere in our world.  Do i choose the easy way, today? Do I usually choose the easy way? 

I've thought about how amazing of a creature we are too have this natural feedback system.  That thinking and stress creates adenosine and adenosine forces our bodies to slow down and get sleepy.  It's a biological limit to how much we can handle in a day.   And even more amazing,  plants create a substance to wires or brains to be more alert and creative that is addictive and pushes us to care for the plants (and does all kind of other things in ecology)

And I've been thinking about the physical experience of faith.  What it looks like to live out faith, to trust God with our bodies.  This is the heart of a fasting practice,  at least it always has been for me.  

It's been inconvenient, but all these thoughts make me think it was a reasonable fast to choose.  

Day 35: Spring

There was a switch in the air today. It felt official.  Spring is here to stay.  

All the way back in early February the first blossom on my peach tree burst open.  Every year I watch for it.  Some years it opens as early as early January.  Some as late as Valentines day.  That blossom is my sign post for spring garden chores.  It is also my hope when I feel like winter will never end. That brave little blossom in the rain and cold,  fierce on its little branch. 

In March,  I was pulling weeds and preparing my soil. Grass had grown. The hills were starting to green.  But trees were still bare.  Gardens still ghostly winter shells of themselves. But closer look I could see swollen buds on trees and bushes and garden plants.

Spring exploded into view while I was away during spring break last week. Leaves unfurled and fanned out to fill size. Flowers burst open.  Life could be held back no longer.  

In the darkness of a tomb, the first blossom of the re-creation. Verses in the new testament often call Jesus the firstborn of the resurrected.  Early January in the darkness of the world Jesus brought forth spring.  Sometimes the dark is so dark,  and yet I have my eyes on Jesus. The hope of spring to come. 

The world still looks like Narnia.  Always winter.  But spring has started.  The thaw has begun. If we look close,  we can see the swollen buds. 

And one day the full glory of re-creation will burst forth and life will be held back no longer. 

Easter is coming. 

Day 34: Setbacks and disappointments

 I choose the wrong week to fast from caffiene.  During spring break,  I was able to systematically reduce caffiene to open up the possibility for a caffiene fast for the end of Lent.  Even though I had very little caffiene last week,  I still feel groggy with out it.

The kids were hung over from spring break.  I barely got them out the door Monday morning and my big kids moved like molasses as we tried to plan our homeschool week. 

I could have used them being a bit independent.  I had a mountain of dusty desert laundry and a house to put back together.  A rat had chewed a part of the dishwasher.  The dryer isn't making heat and the motor on the fish tank filter burned out while we were away.  

The caterpillars we've been raising for Sunday school are crawling out of their chrysalis early.  They won't live long enough for the butterfly sermon that I'm supposed to preach the week after Easter and I'm scratching my head.  

I had planned to spend this Lent prioritizing exercise, but my infusion took longer than expected to recover from and life was busy and finally this week the chance to go for a run. I decided to start slow.  It felt good and disappointing. On one hand,  my airways were open and I could breathe well enough to push my body and raise my heart rate  (when I'm inflamed,  it's like breathing through a straw and it's very hard to run) . On the hand, all the recent progress i had made was erased. Back at the staring line. Gratitude for breath mixed with disappointment for being out of shape... again.  Lent is almost over and my thoughts of using the period to help kick start new focus on my own health leaves me feeling a bit defeated. 

I took the kids to 4H tonight to see if they want to try to show oyr rabbit in the fair. The woman kindly and patiently taught Andrew the basics of showmanship.  I was tuned in to learn as well so ic could help Andrew practice and decide if he wants to enter.  But over in the corner another parent was talking about a different one of my children who had apparently been disruptive in a different class. I had thought he was doing well in that class and my heart fell. I know clearly where my children have room to grow but it still hurts sometimes when they aren't enough.  When they can't meet the standard.  

April is one of those months that tends to take me hostage.  Lent ending,  spring break and the school rush that comes after sorting break where everyone starts adding tons of things to the plate before the year ends.  It's death by a million paper cuts. Nothing by itself is a big deal.  But standing at the base of it feels like a mountain.  And after my run today,  I question if I'm in shape enough to climb it.  Three days into this week and I'm exhausted. 

The entire new testament was written for people who were in over their head and at the end of their ropes. 

 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 3 Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

- Hebrews 12:1-3

Deep breath. 

Put one foot  in front of the other.  

Fix the dishwasher.  

Put away clean clothes and hang the wet ones to dry while we figure out the dryer. 

Schedule many small runs.

Build a new routine for homeschool to get us re-inspired. 

(Small win,  I got planners for the boys and they are taking more ownership in planning their days,  yay)

Write down items from email into calendar one by one.  

Drink water. 

Accept that feeling low energy is part of this fast.  

Reflect on where God is acting today and how to lean into God's work and presence.  

Give myself a measure of grace.  Minister to myself.  This is hard. Some days are hard.  God is with me on hard days. 

Life is full of setbacks and disappointments.  Sometimes we need to go to bed and start again tomorrow.  Sometimes we need to remember the promises of God and choose to trust them.  Sometimes we need to put on big girl pants and take life by ear and get it in line. Sometimes we need to scream into the void.  

Sometimes I'm too annoyed and tired and sad to be thoughtful. But this is exactly where that "autopilot" part of faith can carry me. This blog,  that I had to write because I committed to it and have been doing every single day for over a month now.  

I opened the blank page and the words spilled out. Lament. Having a name for it gives me tools to navigate through it.  Having a practice that I do on good days and bad days puts the bad days in perspective and reminds me of the bigger picture.  

If you are tired or disappointed,  may you connect with that thing that brings you rest,  comfort or strength.  May God bring you what you need next to take just your next step. Sometimes,  just taking the next step,  however small,  is all we are called to do. 

Day 33: How deep is the water

A year or two ago,  I read a book called, "A Life Worth Living." It's based off a Yale philosophy course with the same name.  It's deep,  but accessible.  Something between a survey of world religions and philosophies and a workshop on how to plan a good life. 

It tries to help you answer the question - what is the good life? Or something approximately like that.  What makes life good? Or what kind of life should we live? Is the kind of life we should live the same thing as a good life? It's tricky.  

I enjoyed it, but found I wanted to talk about it.  

My younger brother loves to debate life with me. We agree on most things and almost nothing at the same time. We talk theology and politics, parenting and society.  I almost always want to hit him and we keep talking until at least 2am around a bonfire whenever we find ourselves at my parents country home together.  

I decided to give him the book for Christmas with a note that whenever he felt up to reading it,  I'd read it again with him and we'd talk about it.  

He called me up and we are going at whatever place works given lives full of parenting, work and church. 

We're on chapter 2. 

I decided to bring Eddie in on the discussion and had him listen to the chapter on audiobook while I cleaned my room before bed. 

Eddie groaned.

Too much thinking about thinking.  

It made me chuckle.  I love thinking about thinking. 

The chapter was still very much laying groundwork for the rest of the book. The main focus was on self reflection. 

It used a metaphor of a deep sea dive to explain levels of self reflection.  On the surface is autopilot. The place where we live life and so things without much reflection. We're just doing what we do.  

The first layer of reflection is effectiveness.  How to do what we do ... well? This is where we develop systems and routines. This is where we decide to practice our learn more. How do I become a good musician or teacher? How do I improve my mile time. 

The next layer is self-awareness. This is the level of vision board.  Who do I want to be? What do I want to do? What is this year going to be about? 

The deepest level is self-transcendence. This is the question - what's worth wanting? What's worth living for or doing for? What's true about life? What is the purpose of life?

Eddie groaned listening to this. For him,  it was torture to think so much about thinking. This made me wonder,  how much time do people spend in various forms of reflection? How much time should we spend at each of the levels. 

The stereotype of the wise ancient is one who mostly stays in autopilot because they have answered the question of life's purpose and they have attuned their life to live out this purpose well, reflexively following a life built well with spiritual practices that have built the muscles of living out a harmonious life. 

I spend a lot of time at all the levels. The older I get the more I have questions at each of the layers. But I have found it easier to move between the layers and to understand them as distinctly different questions that work together like gears to help me live well. 

I can spend time discerning my next chapter in life,  knowing well that this season still has a few years left in it. I can also think about how do I live out this season well  or what if this is the last season I'm given and there is no next.  How do I  live well today and how do I possibly live well tomorrow? 

Lent is coming to an end. We are nearing holy week.  I think following behind Jesus and watching the journey to the cross raises all the questions.  Why suffering and death? Why this path? How is this part of the good life? Couldn't God chose another path for Jesus,  for me? 

There is mystery here that is deep. Deeper than the dark black night sky. 

I don't have words for this mystery.  But I follow Jesus.  On the donkey.  To the table. To the garden.  At the trial. On the hill.  On the cross. Under the stone.  In the garden. Here,  I find something powerful. Something that turns my life in a direction.  I cannot answer with my mind or with my words. Maybe one day I will... or maybe it will trickle up,  through the layers into my reflexive way of living, shaping and forming who I am and how I live without ever being to fully articulate it. 

I could hope for that. I do hope for that. 

As I come close to the cross again,  may I be open and laid bare to receive it and to be shaped from my core all the way up. That I may learn to live the way of the cross.  

Day 33: Beatiful friends and Interrupted conversation

 I have a hard time doing relatively normal things. For a long time I wanted to be part of a book club or a Bible study to have the opportunity to think and share deep thoughts. Schedule conflicts and a small house unsuitable to host such a thing has made it hard to find a group. 

For a while I joined a mom's group at my kids school.  It was nice,  but it was also lonely. Often it reminded me how different my kids are,  how different our family is, how different I am.  There were moments where I felt like I could belong.  Maybe if I just kept going and assumed that I belonged,  I would belong. 

One day at mom's group,  they discussed having a Bible study and my sons teacher sighed,  wishing she could join.  

I recognized the sigh.  It was the sigh I had let out every happy hour I missed because I had to get home for kids,  the runs i missed because a sick baby in my lap,  chaperoning field trips that I missed because I had to work. 

I went to her later and said,  "How about we have a private Bible study via email that we can pick up and put down as needed?" 

And so we did.  For several years we've sent each other verses and emailed thoughts in between the busyness of life and I've prayed for her and held vigil over her motherhood journey.  

It's been a beautiful relationship.  Built in two minute increments when I see her at drop off and our emails that come when we have time. It's unforced and honest and easy. 

The last few days I've been reminded of other friendships like this - 

an artist friend who encourages me to keep painting and who I marvel at her teaching and her works and who is also mom of a big family and lives with limits and attention span that comes in the territory of caring for some many little people,  

A pastor friend who shares my heart for ministry and deep thoughts,  who is so thoughtful about living well

A writer friend who ponders deeply and connects all the dots

My brother who loves to wrestle with me on theology and politics. We agree about most things and few things at the same time and I want to hit him every time we talk but we always keep at it and rarely have a conversation that's less than 2 hours

A lady from church who sees me and cares for me in thoughtful ways. 

A friend who moved away but we always pickup exactly where we left off and when we can we drop each other hefty pebbles to think on. 

A Sunday school mom who texts me regularly about all the happenings of Sunday school. 

My best friend who schedules a monthly call with me so we have dedicated time to just sit on the phone together and sometimes not even talk about anything.

My mother in law who comes every week to give me a couple hours to talk to my husband without kids. 

My mom who goes down the line to hear my deepest thoughts about each of my children and how I'm feeling about motherhood.

The lady at McDonald's who talks to me about homeschooling my boys and her kids and grandkids and takes special care to bring my food to the table knowing every detail of all of our orders.  

And as i write this i realize how long the list has grown. 

For the longest time I walked alone... or at least it felt that way. I looked for community.  I tried to join things.  I felt out of place. I thought perhaps I wouldn't find a way to click in anywhere.  

But in the past few days I couldn't help but notice how many beautiful people are in my life.  Beautiful amazing people who push me in different ways,  who see me and who I can see. Who I know and pray for. And I realized this afternoon,  it's been a long time since I walked alone.  Community has become like family,  part of my day.  

God shows up in all the little interactions.  Little tidbits of discernment,  bits of new perspectives to consider,  bits of joy and sarrow to carry and to hold up in prayer. Stories to hear and learn from.  

It can be hard to overlook them.  A few lines of a text. A parking lot conversation. Shouting across the way as kids drag us apart.  Cut off bits of stories shared in the gap of time when we bump into each other. It's not planned.  It's not a dinner party.  But it's a shared moment of humanity and often,  as I've taken effort to reflect on these little moments,  God has been there speaking to me and teaching me in those tiny moments.  

So I am grateful and I'm going to try to slow down and tune in better. 

Thank you beautiful people for the gift of light you share in this world.  You've made my day and my life a bit brighter. 

Day 32: Home

 I came to the place I know as well as one of my children. Every plant in the yard.  Every leaf.  Every chip in the paint. 

I walk the yard.  Spring has come since I left a week ago. Flowers are blooming. The apple tree is dappled with blossoms. Grape vines covered in bright green leaves.  I check in the chickens. One has gone broody sitting on a treasure trove of brightly colored eggs. Over a dozen. So awesome to come home to self delivered groceries.  

Inside the house is cold with the emptiness of our vacancy. Curtains and windows were opened and boys and backpacks,  fresh air and sunlight tumbled into the house. Soon there were train tracks being built and magnatile creations around the floor mixed with shoes and dirty socks. Miles sat at the table working on a little book he had been making before we left. He sighed and smiled at me,  "It's nice to go on adventures but it's nice to come home too."

There was a time that God was distant.  Many years I struggled to find God's presence and at last I resigned myself that faith would be a practice of cold choice without the warmth it had previously had. 

And one day I landed in a perfect little apartment with a beautiful garden. There was a church a few blocks away.  I walked over to see the church and a couple was walking into service. They came up to me and asked me to join them. I sat in the pew and it was like coming home. It was good to be home. 

Day 31: The lifelong art of seeing things

I had considered being an art major.  I studied under a well known artist and worked in his studio. He made art about social change.  I was all about it. 

I was like the karate kid. He gave me chores to do.  Cleaning out boxes.  Sorting books.  Making files. And he left me with little proverbs to ponder. He would talk about my life to me in a cryptic way that I would try to decode as I sorted another box of his old teaching materials.  

Once in art class he took us on a walk and made us look at things. No painting. No technical discussion. Just looking. Looking is the way of the artist. 

Miles has a natural second serving of the ability to look. 

He came up to me yesterday with two beetles on his hand. 

"I think I figured it out" he said. 

"What?" I asked.

"This one has a dent here and this one has a point here. " he mumbled

Silence.

I looked trying to see what he was trying to explain.  

"Oh, this is male and female?" I asked

"Yes." And he ran off with them. 

I scratched my head.  Had miles just figured out how to sex beetles by looking at lots of them and finding common different features?

I pulled out my phone and googled it. 

I couldn't quite follow the academic page I had landed on but it seemed that Miles might be right.  I would need someone more knowledgeable to confirm.  

It is a gift to see. It is a treasure to notice. 

I have been learning my whole life how to see and one of my best teachers is 8 years old. 

You can paint something, if you can't see it.  Really see it.  What looks like just blue in the ocean is really hundreds of blues and greens and grays and purples. That detail is important if you want to paint it.  

I think if different kind of seeing is a important to participate in the work of God. I cannot join God if I cannot find God at work. Sometimes I need to sit and watch.  Sometimes I need to be like miles with the beetles.  Patiently allowing my mind to register the movement of the spirit in my life and in the lives around me.  

I'm so glad God gave me Miles. He is a good teacher.  

Day 30: The seven deadly sins

Ulrich listens to old literature during his commute. He's gotten through the complete works of Sherlock Holmes,  most of CS Lewis writing,  George McDonald's catalog and Sumna Theologica by Thomas Aquinas.  As much as I try to be well-read, he's on a different level.  

When I was asking what we should do about Wednesday lenten services,  he decided rather than taking the two older boys to church on Wednesday,  he would lead them in a guided lesson using an audiobook. 

I was curious.  While taking Zander through his nightly routine,  I've had my ears pricked to listen in on his nightly lessons with the kids. 

The text he's chosen is "The Princess and the wise woman" by George Macdonald.  In case you don't know who George Macdonald is,  here is the first few lines from his wiki page.

"George MacDonald (10 December 1824 – 18 September 1905) was a Scottish author, poet and Christian Congregational minister. He became a pioneering figure in the field of modern fantasy literature and the mentor of fellow-writer Lewis Carroll. In addition to his fairy tales, MacDonald wrote several works of Christian theology, including several collections of sermons."

His books are interesting,  quaint fantasies and fairy tales that often include moral lessons or teaching. 

This particular story is about a spoiled princess who is a complete brat because her parents give her everything she wants.  She is abducted by a wise woman who is straighten her out by teaching her to do chores and be content with what she's given. Of course this process is bumpy. 

There is another girl, the daughter of a shepherd,  who is content with what she's given and respectful to her parents.  But her parents think she can do no wrong,  and that girl has become quite proud,  also thinking she can do no wrong. 

Each chapter, Ulrich has a discussion with the boys about what just happened,  what they think will happen and moral and ethical questions raised. The boys are honest.  Telling him when they choose to be lazy or unhelpful, proud or envious.  

The book has slowly worked on me. Making me think about how I was raised and what character flaws came from that.  Making me think about how I am raising my boys and what character flaws may arise from that.

I have heavily used science and research on brain development to guide my parenting.  What is reasonable to expect children of certain ages to be able to to do. How autistic brains are wired differently.  How to help kids have a "growth mindset."

These simple stories from a simpler time are useful though. We live in an age of excess and it's hard to see how excessive our lives are when the reference point is also excessive. 

Sin is such a loaded word.  Used to condemn and exclude. Manipulate and control.  But also a simple fact of life - we have short- comings, flaws and failures. Moments where we choose ourselves over other, where we lose courage to do the right thing. 

I wrestle a lot over the nature of sin, especially in my children.  

Disrespect or inability to communicate? 

Selfishness or rigid? 

Do I call this out or walk them through? 

Am I too lenient or too strict? 

There is a lot of pressure to give children everything they need to be successful in life.  I think happy,  healthy and well adjusted. There's also a lot of emphasis on developing core memories and a "happy childhood." 

When I was new at parenting,  this all felt overwhelming and exhausting. The bar felt way too high - managing screen time,  eating healthiest possible food,  pushing intellectual growth and keeping track of milestones - when they walked and talked and jumped with two feet -- all while working and trying to get enough sleep to keep my own health from coming off the rails. 

Now,  Eddie is heading to 16. Two and a half years it's all I have until he's considered an adult and I think a lot about how he's going to move through the world in his own. What skills does he still need and what personality flaws could lead him off track. How do I teach him to have his own moral compass -- or have i instilled this already in the way that I've raised him up? 

I think my parents did a decent job with me and there are moments that make me feel like I'm doing OK with my boys.  But, the reflection feels valid.  "Sin" is not a lens I often use when I consider parenting choices.  But sin is a thing that can,  and does,  derail our lives as much if not more than poor health, limited education or a lack of life skills.  

When I think of my own growing pains, I had to wrestle a lot with pride and self-centeredness. I think "gifted" kids in the 90s got a lot of "you can do anything" handed to them and it's a long road to learn to be humble when you expect yourself to reach the stars.   

Day 29: And on the 7th day...

 The boys were troopers. They had climbed,  explored and conquered a 9 mile hike in the wilderness.  They contorted into the tiny crevasses of caves and braved winds and sun on a broad desert dune. And on the 7th day of our vacation, our last chance to see our do things,  they were done.  

They weren't cranky.  They didn't fight. They just wanted to lay around and do nothing.  We were tempted to just drive the whole way back and give ourselves an extra day at home.  But instead,  we ambled through the desert in our RV. Stopping to look at trains and camped at an easy to access campground in Bakersfield along ac river.  Home was close.  The day was easy. 

We didn't even talk much. There was just a lot of spacing out,  listening to an audiobook and short walks in pretty places. 

Rest and play are not the same thing.  

In our busy world,  I think we tend to divide time into work and personal.  Work being the thing we do and personal being rest and self care. This division of time,  however, robs us of the variety of activities that are essential to a full life.  

Rest is the time of doing nothing.  The sitting on the couch and staring at the ceiling instead of getting the load of laundry in.  Laying in a hammock and feeling the sun and having very few thoughts.  Rest is still and unplugged.  

Today, I watched my kids have true sabbath. Six days of pushing and running and playing and they were full.  Like after Thanksgiving.  They were satisfied. 

And God looked at creation,  and it was good.  

I think rest comes naturally after the completion of another thing -- a meal,  a report,  a hike,  a day of teaching.  There is a sigh and the feeling of... and it was good. 

I think I'm going to try to look at time differently.  More categories to more fully embrace my humanity and the humanity in my children. Work,  play,  creation,  connection,  learning,  imagination, self care,  and Rest. I wonder how this might change the way I plan our weeks.  

Day 28: In the image of God

 My boys had a pent up desire to play. 

I was a little nervous about a long road trip without devices (except for a few movies for Zander) but they settled into the RV like a favorite pair of old jeans.  

We stopped in a Barstow for breakfast and supplies. There is a huge BNSF train yard there complete with a train museum.  We stopped on the way out of town to let Zander see the trains. He was overjoyed.  Like Christmas morning overjoyed. There were several retired trains that you could climb on surrounding the parking lot.  Zander ran from train to train climbing the stairs,  pointing out features - bell speakers,  knuckle couplers and ditch lights. We followed him with broad smiles.  Sharing his joy. 

I had asked everyone what they wanted this vacation - where we might go and what we might do - the concensus was adventure.  The kids wanted to explore.  So we headed into the Mohave to climb rocks,  go down slot canyons,  play in giant sand dunes and crawl through caves. There were some old walkie talkies in the RV that had been gifted to the boys a few years ago. They had hardly played with them.  I decided to pull them out to make the adventure -- more adventurous.... and to be able to let them explore slightly more independently knowing i could check in if I felt nervous. 

And so,  they spilled out into the desert. Ready to play.  They played hard. There were imaginary games, jokes and tag. There was climbing and exploring around the next bend. Building fires and roasting marshmallows. There were audiobooks and story telling.  

A few years ago,  I read a book on play called "Play: How it shapes the brain,  opens the imagination and shapes the soul." There's a lot in there that makes it hard to summarize.  But I guess I could say that I walked away with play being one of those qualities that are "in the image of God."

Watching my boys play -- allowing myself to play -- I felt that we were in harmony with the way God had created us to be.  Those qualities that we ascribe to the divine nature filled the space.  Play is for its own sake.  It is a type of flow.  You want to keep going.  To the next hill.  The next story.  The next round of tag. The next discovery.  Until you are tired.

When I look at creation, I can't help but think that God was at play when God spoke creation into being. And for 6 days God played until God rested.  

Day 27: Into the unknown

 Our RV trips follow a loose plan.  We look at the weather forecast and set out in a general direction.  We choose places to stop based on what the kids are into and how long we feel like driving. We research places on Google as we drive.  We have a few books in the RV on rock collecting that usually take us on wild adventures.  We can never tell what a place is going to be like.  Sometimes they are awesome.  Sometimes they are not great.  Sometimes we can adapt and re-route.  Sometimes we can't.  

Today we visited the valley of fire outside of Las Vegas.  It's a giant natural playground. Rock piles 50 feet tall begging to be climbed.  The kids love it. I work at not being stressed out while they run down the hillsides like mountain goats. 

The campground at valley of fire was full.  There was a nice looking dispersed camping site just outside the park that had been our main plan.  We rolled up and it was not ideal. The day was windy and this campground was exposed. It was also crowded.  Think giant parking lot full of rvs with cool desert views. There wasn't anywhere for the kids to play. We decided to take a gamble and look for something better.  

I had a plan to visit an unmarked gypsum cave tomorrow.  It was only 30 minutes away. We headed that direction.  It was already 4pm, we had limited daylight to work with. 

We saw a sign for a campground on Lake Mead. We turned off and headed down to the lakeside campground.  It was closed.  We turned around and continued driving toward the cave. We passed an interesting jeep road. But of us perked up.  Jeep roads usually lead to the best campsites. But there was nothing marked on the map and i couldn't be sure it wasn't private property. 

We pull into a day use hiking area that is lovely but is full of "no camping" signs.  We sigh. Daylight is running thin. 

We agree,  last resort backup plan is a hotel in Vegas.  But we had one last shot to find a place.  We could either continue on to the gypsum cave which we knew nothing about or turn around and explore the jeep road.

We had a good feeling about the jeep road.  

I put on "into the unknown" and we headed back.  

We turned onto the road and drove along a river wash.  I spotted a fire ring and another. Tall banks shielded us from the wind and the river bank was full of firewood. 

We drove a ways in and found a perfect spot with a smooth flat place for Zander to ride his bike and cool rock walls for miles and Philip to climb.

There is a scene in Nemo where the dad and Dori are hanging on to the whales tongue and it appears like they are about to be swallowed and Dori screams "Let go,  it's going to be alright. " The dad replies,  "How do you know?"

She answers simply,  "I don't."

This is the mystery of faith.  

It is jumping into the unknown. It is trusting even when we don't know things are going to turn out OK.  It takes courage. And it can feel foolish in a world that is marked by information and safety nets. It's really foriegn to just head off into the unknown without a map or Google reviews to help assure we're making the right choice. 

Today,  this camp site was a gift.  An adventure i didn't plan to take.  A little empty piece of wilderness to explore with my kids. 

Onward,  Into the unknown.

Day 26: The Desert

 Growing up, I was not a fan of the desert. 

I couldn't understand why people would go there voluntarily. It felt uncomfortable and dangerous. It was the place people went to suffer in the Bible. 

I preferred green places. Abundant in water and life. 

My first trip to the desert was to take my kids to Palm Springs for a long weekend in the winter. They had cabin fever from weeks of rain and a place with warm weather and a swimming pool seemed like the perfect antidote. 

I grew to love the desert. As a mom of 5 very busy boys, I found an ability to rest in the desert that I haven't found in too many other places. There are no people there to judge my parenting or my kids. No one to worry about inconveniencing. There is a long visibilty and interesting rocks and things to climb. I don't have to worry about them breaking things. I can let them be them. It is a freedom I don't find other places. 

Other people that you run into in the desert tend to be very chill. Often they are also looking for freedom and peace. There's also very few other people so there am unwritten code of helping. Sharing tools. Helping with vehicle issues. Out in the desert, you have to rely on strangers ... there's no cell service. There's no AAA. 

In my ongoing reading of the early church, I've been learning about the very first Christian monasteries. Christians fled into the desert in Egypt. At first, they were completely alone. Single men and women who went into the most remote places they could find to dedicate their life to faith.  

Something was missing. One essential tenant of Christian faith is love. And these early monks could not fully live out their faith alone. And so they began to live in communities where devotion to God was accompanied with love and service to each other. 

What surprised me in the history is what drove them into the desert. If you had asked, I would have guessed it was persecution. But it was the rise of a "Christian state" under Constantine that pushed many to leave the empire and find a way to live more authentically. There was a fear that power and money would corrupt the church. That is was impossible to follow Jesus in a world with ornate churches. 

Listening to this history, I understand the impulse. There are moments when the world, the society and culture that i live in make me feel that the only way to live my faith fully and authentically is to withdraw. To move to a remote place and to develop rhythms of living that are congruent with my beliefs. And the other half of me says, my faith demands that I both love and serve others and that I bear witness to the work of God in my life.

This week, I am enjoying my freedom in the desert. But next week, I go back to work, finding ways to to live my faith in Livermore, California. 

Day 25: leaving on vacation is stressful

 My battery is blinking red. I need a vacation.  A full stop break from all the things. The problem with vacation is that you have to get yourself to vacation - pack,  clean,  prep,  etc and for me that is 7x. 

And so the stress of getting ready.  Cleaning.  Packing.  Feeding chickens.  And the list was endless.  

And the closer I got to finishing,  somehow the more stressful it felt. I think because I felt the anticipation of letting go and being done and leaving early enough to get a ways down the road and the weight of everything undone.  

But them I was done. I stood at the door sure I had forgotten something. Not wanting to let my future self down. Finally,  I had scoured my brain enough.  I locked the door and got into the car.

A million pounds melted off my shoulders in an instant and I noticed and wondered about that.  

Why does the moment before make it hard to think clearly. And the moment after make it hard to care about anything.  

The moment before I started vacation I was so stressed about forgetting to do something. And the moment after I was like "oh well,  I got a credit card and that's all I need. "

 I have yet to find the spiritual epiphany in this and yet it feels like a spiritual experience.  Something about the limitedness of time that pushes me to do the best i can. 

I worry about doing the best I can. Getting the most out of my kids early years before they grow up,  getting the most out of my body before I age and it starts to fail me, making the most of a beautiful day or a time when someone is babysitting my kids and I need to "enjoy" the time off. 

And then I discover that memories a lovely with big kids and whatever i do with a day off is lovely. 

But the question follows me - am I living this one and precious life well? What does it mean to live well? Am I living my faith? Is that the same thing? 

Today more questions than answers but I have a whole week in the desert to spend with them. It will be good.