It's not easy being green...

If you attend a liturgical church, you may have noticed the alter has a green cloth on it. In the church calendar, we have entered a season called common time. It will last until advent when the church has its new year and decorates the alter blue in preparation for Christmas.

Common time. Ordinary time. The last major holiday in the church year is Pentecost, the receiving of the Holy Spirit, then we are sent out into ordinary time until the church new year, Advent. During summer, most churches get a little quieter. Choirs and Sunday Schools have breaks, people take vacations, attendance is down. There seems to be this ebb and flow that is built into the calendar where God calls us in -- to grow, to learn, to struggle with faith and then sends us out - to serve, to live, to be present in the world.

In my own life, I see a reflection of the church year. I hiked up the mountain during advent, Christmas, epiphany and lent. Pregnant. Struggling with how my life might change. Deep in prayer that God provide strength and wisdom. During Holy Week and into Easter, I found myself on the mountaintop. Transformed and open to the grace of God's call on my life. I gave birth and enjoyed the sacred newborn moments with baby Philip. All I wanted to do was stay there. Stay in the wonder of Easter morning. But down I headed, down into ordinary life.

I am busy with the call laid on me. Loving and caring for my beautiful boys. Being attentive and supportive to my husband. Shining light and leading our company. I don't have much time to be Mary. To sit at Jesus's feet. But, I pray on the way to and from work. I sing hymns in the shower. The meditations of my heart say -- this is the season of green, it is time to be out in the fields. Trusting that the Spirit is with me, it is the season to live out my faith through the work of my hands. During this season of common time, my devotion is to find opportunities to infuse each day with light and love. And that, my friend, is why it is not that easy being green.

Can we just stay?

Moments that touch eternity...

Just before dawn I awoke to the feeling of a small balloon popping. Could it be the day?  I went to the bathroom.  Sure enough my water had broken. Still a bit dazed, I heard Andrew wake up. I went to get him.  We cuddled.  I woke Ulrich. I woke my mom.  Today's the day. Eddie somehow knew something was up and woke up two hours early.  The boys decided to take a shower.  I sat on the stool in the bathroom and told them it was baby peanut butters birthday and that I had to go to the hospital so he could be born.  They were excited.  I said my farewells and we were off.

The sun rising.  Contractions picking up momentum.  Drive through McDonald's for Ulrich. Hospital.  epidural.  10cm. Wait for mom to get there. Mom arrives.  Time to meet my little man.  Everyone tells me they see him.  Doctor asks if I want to catch him. I reach down finding his shoulders, slid my hands under his arms and pull him out and into the world.  I lift him up and draw him to my chest.  He cries. His pink body warm and messy presses into my heart and leaves an imprint that will last the rest of my life.

Moments that touch eternity.

I am standing on a high mountain.  Life stretches out in front of me. I will blink my eyes and this helpless little baby will be walking, running,  going to kindergarten.  Looking back,  I see the births of my other two boys,  my wedding and in the far past,  the moment my mother first held me.

I just want to stay.  I want to stay in this perfect moment with my newborn. With my wonderful 2 and 4 year olds. I don't want life to keep going.  I don't want to climb down the mountain.

When Jesus showed Peter the full glory of God on top of a mountain during the transfiguration, all Peter wanted to do was stay and soak up the moment. But Jesus urged him onward.  Peters call lay in the road ahead.  Surely,  memories from that mountain top experience sustained him when the path got hard.

Life is lived on the trails going up and down the mountain.  My life lived in the 9 months leading up to baby Philips birth and the year forward that he grows into a little boy.

Jesus who walked with Peter on the path up and down the mountain was the same Jesus who appeared in glory on the top.  God is with us as strongly in the path as he is on the summit,  even if his presence hard to feel and glory harder to recognize. 

I will tuck these amazing first days of life deep into my heart. And I know the path ahead is full of beauty and adventure.

Overwhelmed by gratitude

I feel compelled to continue writing into the Easter this year. This blog has been a source of quiet and reflection in an otherwise hectic life and I have been deeply touched by the practice.

I can't help but be overwhelmed by gratitude. My boys came home Wednesday night. I took Thursday off and did nothing else besides be present to them. Friday. they went to school in the morning and we hung out in the afternoon. I was amazed by how much they've grown in the week they were gone. Andrew was speaking in sentences. Eddie had new maturity. Hanging out at home doing the mundane with them was yet another vacation. A vacation to the sacred space of motherhood that I can't begin to express how grateful I am for.

The even more beautiful part was the ability to share the moments and journey with my mom. I don't have any sisters and we moved around quite a bit when I was little, so my mom is my mom, my sister and my childhood best friend. She is the one woman I've had in my life for the long haul. And sharing motherhood with her -- telling stories, laughing at the kids, solving issues, trying to figure out how to best nurture my boys and preparing the house for new baby peanut butter -- is a joy that I don't know if my soul can express in words.

God intends for our calling to be a source of joy. We may get weary in our work. Overwhelmed by uncertainty. Distracted or discouraged. We are human. That is part of the journey. But pursuing the heart of God's call for us and allowing our perspective to be shaped by the Holy Spirit we can find ourselves overwhelmed by joy and gratitude even on the ordinary days.

Easter: I'm Ready...

He has risen indeed, Alleluia!

The greeting of Christians for centuries is nearly always the first words of my heart Easter morning.

This year, we got up in the dark and hurried off back down long country roads to the hills where we greeted the rising sun with the birds, the trees and the green grass. The world always feel so alive on Easter morning. The weather, for as many Easters as I can remember, no matter where I lived has been mild and sunny. Creation is joyful.

My heart sings. The promise of new life, perpetual. I am filled with hope.

As Easter day carried forward, my pensive heart shifted to a ready heart. Ready to greet my children home from their trip to Michigan. Ready to greet my new baby at his birth. Ready to lead my company. Ready to inspire the world to love.

Through the prompting of the Holy Spirit, a plan has been hatching in my mind about how to reorganize my life around the call to mother and nurture. I see opportunities to give both Ulrich and myself more rest and renewal to keep from getting burned out. I see opportunities to work and to mother and allow these roles to co-exist.

Of course, I don't expect life to follow my plan. But in the glory of this Easter morning, my savior offers me the promise of a lighter yolk. Allowing my heart to continually be molded by his gentle Spirit offers the promise of gentle waters and green pastures.

The tomb is empty. God prevails. In faith, we find new life.

Easter Vigil: Defined by love

In the deep dark, we drove the winding country road to the foothills outside of Livermore. Our Easter Vigil this year to be held under the blanket of the night sky.

We came to a turn off and pulled over. Pulling out lawn chairs and a candle, we set up next to the car. We read the readings. We read the Easter proclamation and we stared in wonder at the constellations above us.

Holy Mystery.

Thoughout the day Saturday, we read aloud from the book that I had started on Motherhood. I had wanted to finish it by Easter. As I read, it dawned on me. I have been approaching life the wrong way. I have been trying how to figure out a way to create space for a new baby in my life.

Instead, God is calling me to transform my life around an emerging role that he has for me that is bigger and holier than I initially recognized. One the main message echoing in the book I was reading was permeating your home with Love and letting it be the guiding force behind your daily schedule.

I began to ponder the servant leadership of Christ. What would my life look like if my to-do list was defined by love. If first, I considered the love and care for my children, husband, employees, customers and investors. If instead of orchestrating objectives to be met, I defined myself by the love I offered each day.

I pondered this revelation throughout the day Saturday. I don't know how I might implement it practically in my life, but I was convicted this coming season in my life should be defined by Love.

Good Friday: Surrender

Good Friday.  I started the day a little sour.  The gray sky,  the pain in my body, the somber feeling that lingers in the soul. The day of the cross.

Ulrich and I had made plans to explore the coast in the peninsula so we drove down to Monterrey.  It was still pretty early and the town had not yet fully woken up. We ate breakfast and walked Cannery Row.  I stopped at a overlook of the ocean. Kids were down below playing on the sand and climbing in the rocks.  Behind me, a native American musician set up shop playing drums and a wooden flute.  I stayed there nearly an hour.  Still.

Finally,  we headed back to the car and drove Highway 1 North to Santa Cruz.  We parked downtown.  I was struck by how much you can tell about a town based on the downtown. Monterey was old and sleepy. Santa Cruz was young and liberal. We walked the stretch of downtown, ate a bowl of noodles and headed North again. Another hour on Highway 1 to Half Moon Bay. The views along the highway were stunning,  expansive. 

In the car I read chapters from the book Desperate.  Mediations on motherhood.  More or less quick thoughts on how to survive the struggle of life with young children. I was uplifted.  We stopped at a beach and went for a long walk on a cliff trail.  Maybe 100 feet below was a spanse of perfect sand.  Tiny people walked along the ocean holding hands.  Tiny dogs ran freely,  frolicing as the waves washed in.

We found this cool ledge surrounded by trees,  protected from the wind.  It was a place to rest.  My heart was completely still. 

"It is finished"

I let go of the struggle,  the worry,  the future.  I let go of the pain,  the birth,  the stress.  Rather then dwelling in the agony of the cross,  I found myself at peace with the commitment to obedience.

After the sweat and blood and tears of Gathesemane, Jesus faced the cross with an eery calm.  The world got so worked up around him.  But Jesus was resolved.  The peace of the Spirit dwelled with him in his complete obedience.

On the edge of that cliff,  I found myself embracing the calm. I brought everything to the cross and I left it there. 

It is finished.

Day 38: Staying the course

Our vacation...

So it came to pass that the baby hasn't come. The kids are gone. We said farewells to our staff and we found ourselves free.

Problem.

What kind of vacation can you have when you are 38 and a half weeks pregnant. No hiking, working out, biking, adventures to the wilderness. No wine tasting. No long walks on the beach. Everything hurts and keeps hurting. If I push it, we will be having a baby instead of a vacation so we drove, we ate and we talked.

Talking all day peels back layers and layers of onion. We found ourselves really wrestling with the weight of responsibility. For our kids and for our business. Facing an unknown darkness of doing something the world has never done before, every step feels like inching towards the edge of a cliff in total darkness. You stretch your toes feeling, straining, hoping you find the edge so that you don't just walk off it.

I thought about Jesus. Walking up the hill. Human. Mocked. Abandonned by God. Failed. I thought of moments in my own life when I thought, surely God is calling me to this and then, suddenly at sea I found myself alone with no God in sight. My God, how could you abandon me out here? Jesus shouted it from the cross. I shouted it from a hilltop in Haiti.

But Jesus stayed the course. Jesus clung to a promise of resurrection.

I don't know if our start-up will succeed. I don't know what the right choice is. But I do feel compelled to stay the course. My Easter is out there too. The invisible wind of the Spirit continues to blow. I must trust the mystery, pick up my cross and carry on.