Day 7: Approaching life with wonder

One of the best parts of being a mom is watching the wheels turn in those cute little heads as they learn -- how to move their limbs, what gravity is, how to speak, that animals are living creatures. For them, the world is AMAZING every day.

We age. We learn how stuff works. We get jaded that things aren't really magic. There is always a logical explanation -- for sunsets, for rainbows, for good weather, for laughter. There's science behind it. But does science make life any less wonderful? Being married to a scientist who can explain why anything is the way it is has turned me into a kid again, asking why and wanting to learn more.

Lately, our business has been focusing on building fertility tests. I've been studying everything there is to know about how babies are made. I've been looking at sperm under the microscope. And.... I am in wonder. Life itself an amazing mystery -- chemistry somehow works to give rise to life. I look at those little sperm and just try to fathom for a moment that one of those became that baby in the picture.

And if you zoom out. The world is teaming with life. Microscopic life that we can't see. Majestic creatures that we teach our toddlers about. Cycles of life that happen without our knowing or caring in the depths of the oceans, the deserts, the polar caps. And if you zoom out further.... somewhere...

God is.

wonder.

Day 6: In the world, but not of it

In John 17, just prior to his arrest and crucifiction, Jesus prayed....

 "I have given them your word, and the world has hated them ...They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. Sanctify them in the truth;... As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. "

One of the most challenging calls in faith is to live fully present and engaged in the world while not allowing it to shape who we are. Living out your faith truly and authentically, inevitably will piss someone off. At the heart of this journey is a way of life that is in conflict with society at large -- things like speaking truth and dying to self. For this, Jesus found himself on a cross. These 40 days invite us into a space that is uncomfortable. But by allowing the world's judgement that tries to define who we are and aren't to melt away, we make space for a new identity rooted in the divine. In this new identity we find peace that passes understanding. The calm to face storms. The depth to fight injustice. The unshakable that comes with building upon the rock.

May your journey be blessed and may you know that though you are in the world, it does not define you. Sail on.

Day 5: Settled

This is Eddie's room. It was the first room I painted and organized when we moved into our house. I wanted him to have a space to call home. He was nearly a year old and we had spent that year bouncing from place to place. I had a deep need to nest. A deep need to be settled. So did he.

Two years have passed. Eddie's room is still my favorite place in the house. I feel so much love in his room. The bright colors, the cheery memories, my cozy rocking chair -- a vantage point from which I watch him and Andrew grow day to day and week to week. Between the first day we moved in and now, there has been an accumulation of stuff from birthdays and Christmas and trips down to the thrift store on rainy days. Much like silt settles on the bottom of the river, so we find that with the passing of time, layers of stuff begin to accumulate in the rooms of our lives.

As I meditated on today's word, SETTLE, I found myself searching for the balance between rejuvenation and complacency. In one hand, putting down roots and forming a schedule gives us a degree of certainty from which we can go forth into the world with strength knowing we have a place to retreat back to. In the other, settling can create a form of passiveness - the layer of fat around the mid-section, the rut of going to work and coming home without inviting in the color life has to offer. Settling for the life our teenage selves would have cringed at.

I thought of my two boys. How much time I spent settling them down, particularly for bed.  I can imagine God looking down at me when I'm over-tired or wound up with doubt and anxiety and thinking that I need to be settled down. And, the Spirit comes to mother me. To bring me what I need before I know what or how to ask. To help me find calm even when I'm fighting it.

In faith, we need a home base. A place of calm. A place to return to. One that gives us strength to go out and live out our call in the world. For me, I find that in a quiet communion with God. In moments and prayers that become nearly palatable with peace. In weather that reminds me to live my day with gratitude. But I have to remember that this calm, warm hovering of the Spirit is not my journey's end. Rather, a beckoning forward that invites me to lean into the call I was made for.

Day 4: Injustice breeds compassion

January 2010 - Eddie was three months old. Haiti had a terrible earthquake. Every part of me wanted to get on a plane and help with the relief efforts. Eddie was too young for me to leave him. I stayed home.

I helped every way I could. I organized groups. I translated. I shared my knowledge of Haiti to the droves of people who responded - immediately and with deep compassion. I was amazed at the response. Anarchists working with the UN. Atheists working with Baptist missionaries. Philosophical dividing lines set aside for the moment as a gut reaction to a great injustice moved people with compassion. They were compelled and could find no other way.

A dear friend painted this painting for me during that time. Each day she prayed deeply for Haiti and meditated on an image of a woman's face . She gave it to me as a going away gift as I left our church community in Davis to follow a new call to life in Livermore.

Livermore has caused me to come face to face with a great number of hidden injustices. There aren't blatant starving children here or epidemic disease or crippling poverty. But, I feel injustice, when recognized breeds compassion. Injustice when disguised can breed contempt. My gut reaction to the types of injustices experienced in places like Livermore has been, in a word, "whatever." A failure to recognize the injustice around me creates a false sense of arrogance. Snap judgments lead to an inability to empathize. "If that were me, I would do X and therefore I would never be in that position." But the reality is, the sources of injustice are real. Discrimination, disease, abuse, poverty, societal structures cage people into lives with few options.    I've had to open my eyes to recognize the injustice that surrounds me here in the suburbs and open my heart to the compassion that follows....

Day 3: Seeing injustice

I was so excited about today's word, SEE. I meditated on the sunlight and the happiness of my two little guys during our picnic at the park. I thought about the gardeners that I passed on my bike. I thought about this beautiful weather, the sun, the sky, the warmth of God's hand in my life. I'd like to write about that.

But truth is, I've been looking at this rental application and have struggled with how I might fill it out.

What I see is injustice.

For three years I have been helping a homeless woman get back on her feet. She was every sort of mess and heartache that comes with homelessness. For some reason, God called me to her and with an inability to do otherwise, I have journeyed with her and learned a great deal (which in itself could be the topic of a whole blog).  In 2011, with a lot of help from Upstairs, she finally took the big step and got into an apartment.

I was uplifted to see her do so well. Taking control of her life, exerting a bit of independence, acting responsibly.  Of course, she was far from perfect and she still had days that pushed against social norms that we are all expected to adhere to. But -- that aside -- she was doing pretty well.

Her apartment complex changed management. They switched everyone to month to month and slowly started to evict people. They had good reason. There was domestic violence, drug dealing, and all sorts of unsavory situations in that apartment complex. The buildings themselves were also in poor repair and they were using the opportunity to repair the apartments and rent them out at higher rates to more stable tenants. In November, my friend got a notice on the door. She wasn't blameless, but she was far from deserving -- she paid her rent on time, the apartment was in perfect condition -- my heart sank for her. She has an 18 month old little girl with special needs who has turned her world around.

She cried to me. "I can't let my baby be homeless."

"God will provide." I promised. Hoping in my heart that my prayers would be heard. Though December, January and into this month, I have held on to the promise that God will provide and have been looking for a place.

An apartment opened up a few blocks from my house. $865 a month. The cheapest I've seen in town. Her monthly income is $1,095 plus food stamps. It could work. Its only a few blocks away.

So I've been staring at the rental application and debating how to fill it out -- Evictions? Must have income equal to 3x rent? I have tried explaining the situation honestly to several owners and apartment managers. Once they know the situation, the dialog turns silent and I find myself back on Craigslist. So I ponder the deep ethical questions and ask myself -- what would Jesus do?

Day 2: Returning home

I was talking to Ulrich about this post and he made a great point. Life is cyclical. It has seasons. A time of coming and going, working and resting, action and reflection. There is rhythm in our days and nights, our weeks, our months, our years. We are constantly returning. Returning to work, returning home, returning to holidays and our birthdays. It is Lent. I am trying to return to God.

I have been out all day in the city trying to raise money for our start up. Dressed in uncomfortable clothes and shoes. Thinking hard. Reacting. Working. I came back to my in-laws house to kids who missed me and needed me. After spending some time there, we packed the kids up and headed home.

I had been thinking about this post all day. The word RETURN. All I could think of was my bed. I thought of how hard days and long trips make us miss our beds. We want to come home. In today's case, I had left the house a mess and the lovely young lady who lives in our in-law unit came and tidied up. It was, for me, sheer grace. I had not a single ounce of energy left and I came home to peace.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matt 11:28)

Finding God, at times is like coming home to your own bed. To your favorite pillow and most comfortable pjs. There is a peace in the soul and we find rest. It is part of the spiritual rhythm to be nourished and sent forth renewed.

Day 1: Ash Wednesday. Who Am I?

Last year I posted everyday to this blog as a meditation and reflection for Lent. It was a deeply spiritual practice and so this year, I will attempt to do it again. I am also going to try to incorporate the Photo a Day idea that the Methodist Church had. Its a powerful, simple way to share our stories and have a collective devotion during these sacred days.

As I reflect on the day and the question Who am I, the imposition of Ashes, the squirmy kids at church, pouring my heart into our business, trying to still be a light and feeling somehow not quite enough at the end of it all. I find God. I am a child of God.

Eddie drove a toy truck down the aisle as we received our ashes. He was overtired and had a short attention span. It was a special moment. Andrew received ashes for the first time. This is his first lent and I was drawn into the journey we will take towards his baptism. It was silent and holy. I was messy and holding two small children. Kneeling on the floor. I looked up and the words "From dust you came and to dust you shall return." For me. For Eddie. For Andrew. Calamity meets Sacred. Life meets Death. Every forehead was marked. This moment meets eternity and I was struck by how God could meet me so simply where I was.

Every Lent with my best ability, I try to meet God and despite all my efforts, God bends low and meets me where I am and draws me into himself. Easter is waiting beyond every Good Friday and I hold on to the promise as I press toward Jerusalem.