Snowed [Iced] In

It doesn't take much to get snowed in here in the South. But despite our tundra-state, I'm disappointed. Yesterday evening you would have watched my hopeful trot to the sliding glass door, a nose pressing to the glass, and dejection fall across my face. The snow just wouldn't come. I woke up at four am to check. An ice glaze. And then--this morning (at a more decent hour)--more ice. Over the course of the morning, snow and sleet mixed together and turned the deck, our yard, the road into an ice rink.

We crunched through the woods this evening without direction--truly--we let Luke lead. Everything in the woods was coated in a thin glaze of crystal clear ice; and at some point, the farther we walked, the more it felt like we must have wandered into Narnia or Middle-Earth. Luke was a fearless leader--briar patches were tunnels, hills were mountains, ice patches became glaciers. I brought up the rear of our procession, and occasionally, Luke would call, "You ok Mommy?" And I would respond with confidence. "We are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved." [Heb. 10:29]

Psalm 55/138, 139 [morning/evening]
Genesis 18:1-16
Hebrews 10:26-39
John 6:16-27

Fullness, part 3

It will be ok, but this is hard. Yesterday afternoon, we rushed Luke to an urgent care with a fever of 104. The cause? Strep and pneumonia. I wish I could say I never saw it coming, but I did. At any sign of illness in our boy, dread rushes in and I begin to expect the worst. After my last blog, I realized it may have appeared like I was overreacting to a common cold. But last December, we rushed him to the emergency room (after a case of strep) because his entire body was swelling to the point that he was unrecognizable. The most frightening part of this experience for me was the fact that no one--no one--knew what was wrong with him for nearly 24 hours. While doctors were sure it was a reaction to an antibiotic, everyone had read about this type of reaction, but no one had ever seen it in person. After that experience, even a runny nose makes my heart beat faster.

Right now, I'm just tired. But if someone could see my soul and paint what they see there, I'd appear passive, with my hands down, resolved just to follow through. This, of course, is outside of normal for me. I only read one article about pneumonia today and I haven't imagined a hundred worst-case scenarios. I just don't have the energy. Instead, I've been thinking about a reading from Genesis from yesterday (does that break the rules?).

Abram and Sarai left for Egypt to escape a famine in their own land. Abram, nervous over the Egyptians' possible reaction to Sarai's beauty, persuaded her to call herself his sister instead. The result wasn't good--the Pharaoh was attracted to her, did take her into his house (which I can only assume meant sexually), and was struck with disease afterward. Abram was forced to confess and leave. But this is what gets me: Abram thought he might be killed if someone desired Sarai and knew she was married. But no one killed him after they found out he wasn't her brother. (Not to mention the fact that their diseased state was caused by his dishonesty.)

And so, it occurred to me that Abram was really anticipating a bad situation without being assured of its likelihood. I'm not an ancient history or Bible scholar, so perhaps I'm missing something, but this story reminds me of all those occasions where I imagine a terrible outcome, practice a script in response to that situation, predict a myriad of consequences--all based on what I suppose could happen. Quite simply, I don't want to do that anymore.


Jan. 23: Psalm 30, 32/42, 43 [morning/evening]
Genesis 12:9-13:1
Hebrews 7:18-28
John 4:27-42

Jan. 24: Psalm 63, 98/103 [morning/evening]
Genesis 13:2-18
Galations 2:1-10
Mark 7:31-37

Fullness, part 2

So yes, fullness. Part 2. The idyllic Monday I rambled on about in part 1? ....has swerved slightly to the south. Luke has a fever; early in the evening, he commenced with that depressingly lovely clinginess that marks the beginning of illness. And now, he's coughing miserably in his bed.

Admittedly, I'm not quite as perky and full of insight about my calling. I'm wondering about the night ahead. Planning for at least five scenarios which could unfold tomorrow. Questioning whether or not I should call the doctor. Feeling a bit guilty over a tiny selfish part of me that just wants things to be normal. And so I leaned over to my husband and said, "Just tell me everything will be ok."

He said, "You know it will be ok. It might be hard. But it will be ok."

That turned it into a challenge. "It might be hard." The next few days might bring more stress than I had planned for. But again, it's not about my agenda, my list of to-do's, my plan to conquer. And to be quite frank, this "challenge" [and it's beginning to feel less of one...] is at the center of my calling to mother Luke; productivity isn't.

God knows my heart. He knows and, I believe, understands the gamut of my thoughts--from the selfish to the misguided to the earnest. Somehow, that knowledge prods me [right now] to throw myself into the highs and lows of my calling. I can let Him sort through motives, desires, and reactions. "All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you. " Psalm 38:9


Psalm 38/Psalm 119:25-48 [morning/evening]
Genesis 9:18-29
Hebrews 6:1-12
John 3:22-36

Fullness

This morning, Luke and I sorted through a closet shelf full of miscellaneous items I've been throwing there since his birth. I'm amazed by how soon we can reminisce. He's just two and a half, but he almost seemed to remember the favorite infant toy I pull from a box. Tiny hats, socks, and memories from showers fascinated him--but he seems more interested in the story behind it: "Mommy, what's this?" "Who gave this to me?" "What's this for?"

But the weather today feels like a March afternoon and we left his room in its disastrous state in favor of a walk. In fact, we stayed outside until oneish--he played in the mud with his dump trucks and a shovel and I sat in the sun and read about bread-baking. The house...well, the house is in various states of disarray. But my experiment today--of throwing my agenda to the side and listening to God? I think it's working.

Here's the thing--yesterday, in church, we talked about calling. Our pastor said that we're called to impact others' lives through Christ "for the common good." And truly his words hit the exact spot I've been bearing down on for several months now: Where exactly am I supposed to throw my impact? Logic isn't exactly my forte, however, it seems that wherever my impact is going to be, I'm going to have to be there too. In other words, my impact is going to occur wherever I am; whatever I do has some impact. We all know from direct experience that our impact can be negative; this is sin. But when our life is rooted in Christ's--this is when our impact directly adds to "the common good."

There's so much to say about this, and it's a train of thought I don't want to jump from. I know these things about myself: Right now, I'm called to be a wife and a mother...in my world, this means I want to build my home with grace, skill, and love. I keenly feel a call to use words to connect others to Christ--in varied forms and settings. And that's it. I'm not called to be skinny or a published writer--even though I judge myself by whether I've accomplished those things or not. (And I haven't.) But "size 6" and "Randomhouse" have nothing to do with my calling.

I sat and thought about Psalm 25 for a long time this morning...

"Show me your ways, Lord,
teach me your paths.
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long."
(vs. 4-5)

Psalm 25/9, 15 [morning/evening]
Genesis 8:6-22
Hebrews 4:14--5:6
John 2:23--3:15

Maturity

As I continue to confront an unhealthy dependence on my "agenda," I've tried to distill my major roles. What's absolutely necessary? What responsibilities have I taken on just because I feel them as expectations? So this morning, when I read "... become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ," I read it as a command. It's not--Ephesians 4:13 discusses Christ gifting believers to lead others to that fullness.

But inwardly, part of me groaned. I just turned 33, and while I don't want to ever wax eloquently about my persistent insecurities, I just don't feel very different from Jess at 23 or 13. Or...the close to 3 me in this picture.... Right now? I'm learning how to be a wife and mother. But at 23, I was learning how to navigate life after college. And at 13, I was exploring my growing independence. There are mistakes galore, mis-steps--sometimes predictably so, and when I read about fullness, my first thought is, "Yes! I want that...but I am so immature..." Sometimes I sense I'm learning the same thing over and over again--it just emerges with a different frame.

Psalm 148, 149, 150/114, 115 [morning/evening]
Genesis 7:1-23
Ephesians 4:1-16
Mark 3:7-19

Short Lived

This past summer, we found this Luna moth late in the evening. The photo doesn't do it justice; the moth was nearly five inches across and was just so different than anything I had ever seen, I immediately started to research it. For some reason, I identified it as a Luna Moth without any hesitation (probably from reading The Girl of the Limberlost countless times in middle school). Interesting fact? They live long enough to mate. About a week. And adults don't even eat food--their sole purpose is to procreate. I had hoped we found the moth at the beginning of its week and not the end; but it didn't matter. That night a monster thunderstorm with driving rain rolled through and the next day the Luna Moth was gone.

Psalm 20, 21/110, 116, 117 [morning/evening]
Genesis 6:9-22
Hebrews 4:1-13
John 2:13-22

Shaking the Earth

I thought I was over indignant reactions to what amounts to crackpot comments from leaders. [Or people who are vociferous enough to be heard...it may very well have nothing to do with leadership.] But for the past several days, I've been unable to get Pat Robertson out of my head! While some friends I've spoken with are amazed I'm shocked at all (after all, what did I expect him to say?), I don't want to become accustomed to the mangled, distorted, misconstrued sides of life.
__________________

I've been writing this blog for over an hour and a half now. I'm stuck. I've started, stopped, backspaced, typed furiously...until I'm just now frustrated with every facile thought that starts its trip across my screen. Without hesitancy, I can say that events like Haiti's earthquake send me reeling into an apathetic coma. My desire for extreme action leads me to complete inaction. What to do? What to do? I honestly considered, on the way home tonight--with my chatty toddler in the backseat--how much I wanted to jump on a plane and head to Haiti. It was the same feeling I had in college when I daydreamed about joining the humanitarian effort in Bosnia. How much of this is some sort of self-aggrandizing fantasy and how much is my genuine heart....I don't know.

But I know this was outside of God's Design. Death, hunger, agony, blame, thirst--these things were not part of the picture when the world began. I mean, we're talking about a God Incarnate who chose to turn water into wine as one of his first demonstrations of his "glory." A God who favored Noah--a needle in a haystack. A Man who went through death, hunger, agony, blame, and thirst. As much as life before the Resurrection exemplified our desperate situation, life after should reflect our Redemption. I mean--believers in Christ are under grace, not the law. The law reflected our separation from God--the extent to which we can't be holy or righteous. Faith in Christ depends upon recognizing our inability to attain righteousness on our own.

And so, I guess I'm in the midst of a theological fog. Do I think God's ways change? No. Neither does his character. But I do think God's story reached a climax when death lost. And this was a turning point. Now, instead of a negotiated religion between men, priests/prophets, and God--it's us and Him. For some reason, this turning point also implies, to me, that God probably doesn't swoop down and wipe out nations anymore. Could he? I can't deny it. But that was a different part of the story.

Psalm 16, 17/22 [morning/evening]
Genesis 6:1-8
Hebrews 3:12-19
John 2:1-12

Beginnings

Psalm 1, 2, 3/5, 7 [morning/evening]
Genesis 2
John 1:1-18
Hebrews 1:1-14

I have to admit some disappointment this morning when I realized the coming weeks of Epiphany readings are sending me back to the beginning. In an effort to read the Bible through from beginning to end, I've read Genesis countless times...usually fizzling out somewhere in Leviticus. But each of these readings pointed toward the beginning of God's story in a different way: John highlights Christ's presence "in the beginning" and Hebrews differentiates that presence from angelic beings. And today, as I read Genesis 2, I reflected on the creation of humanity. Rather than simply speaking us into being, God formed us with his own hands, breathed his life into us, created us in his image.

I need to know that. It seems that lately I've been questioning God's story overall. Somehow it was easier to believe in cosmic significance in my early 20's...and now, as I approach [gulp] 33, I wonder if this is it. I've gone from lofty (but never enacted) plans to assist in humanitarian efforts around the world to a more practical day to day existence. But when I read Psalm 1, which contrasts the firmly planted believer with the unbeliever blown about by the wind, I found this written in the margins: "a heavy life." And I want that heaviness--not in a melancholy, self-absorbed sort of way, but in building a life of depth, deep connection, and beautiful weight.

"Is the Lord among us or not?"

Psalms 121, 122, 123
/131, 132[morning/evening]
Isaiah 45:14-19
Colossians 1:24--2:7
John 8:12-19

When the normal schedule resumes, blogging apparently proves challenging. Time has again become a commodity, and I determine the worth of a task or event by time-spent. In fact, this week, it occurred to me that I don't have an insatiable desire for money--I have an insatiable desire for time. To a fault, I don't care about clothes or make-up or cars; but, I'm greedy with each second of my day--also to a fault. I find myself planning ahead in terms of minutes, gathering seconds for myself whenever possible, and dreading bedtime because it means the end of the day and sleep seems unproductive. When the psalmist compares the length of our lives to the life of grass, I get it. I feel it. I hate it. More often than not, I don't know why I'm here. There's no melancholy attached to that statement; I'm just not sure how packing lunches, cooking dinner, or running like mad from activity to activity is serving the greater good or how it fits into God's story.

I've always wanted God's story to feel like something along the lines of The Lord of the Rings--a little bit of fairy tale, lots of beauty, and some struggle (but just a bit.) The other day I discussed a particularly brutal section of Joel with some friends. We've been reading through the minor prophets together--a task I haven't been excited over just because, to be frank, it's hard to take. And when someone asked, "How do you feel as you read these chapters?" [which are full of destruction, fear, and God's anger and judgment] I blurted out, "That could be me! God could exact that punishment on me...and he loves me?"

So today, as I read these pieces of scripture, I found a common theme that took this issue to the mat. In Isaiah, God says, "I have not spoken in secret, from somewhere in a land of darkness; I have not said to Jacob's descendants, 'Seek me in vain.' I, the Lord, speak the truth; I declare what is right." Paul, in Colossians writes of maturing in Christ to understand the mysteries of God. And it occurred to me that in many ways, I don't live as if I acknowledge the immensity of the cross--it revealed the mystery in God's story as much as it redeemed us. And it should reorder my time, or, at the very least change the reason I'm so greedy for it.

In another, unblogged, reading, Exodus 17:7 caught my attention: "Is the Lord among us or not?" The question comes from a place name Moses used after providing water for the wandering Israelites; he was understandably frustrated by their persistent doubt. I should ask the same question...it changes my interpretation of the story.

Turning and Returning

Psalm 66, 67/145 [morning/evening]
Wisdom 7:3-14*
Colossians 3:12-17
John 6:41-47

Tomorrow, I return to work. And really--typing those words just now marks the first time I've verbalized them all day. I've pushed the thoughts aside, focused on the moments, forged ahead as if tomorrow was just another day of vacation. Truly, though, I love my job. I do love teaching; but there are greater loves in my life now...and one that changes at such a pace I find myself doing double-takes.

I say this with all graciousness, but unless you're a mother who's left a child behind at daycare or preschool, witnessed their sad faces, and felt that dull ache coupled with hot tears as you drive away, you can't know the dread some workdays bring. Despite necessity. Despite knowing your children are well cared for. Despite even calling.

Becoming a mother loaded me down with a desire to control; I know God is chipping away at my stoney grasp on life as I know it, which is not life as good as it could be. I worry and fret and wonder if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm doing all I can, if Luke's life is good. But always, I return to a question a friend asked me nearly a decade ago: "Do you really believe God is good?" Psalm 145 tells me He is. Not just because of "awesome works" or "great deeds," but because I need to know that the One whom I've asked to know is "gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love," "trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does," and (for tomorrow) "near to all who call on him."

During a walk in the woods, Cory and I found a single purple mushroom, and I returned hours later to photograph it, searched through leaves to find it, and sat and thought about it. Really? A bright purple mushroom? It was a perfect specimen of detail and exactness to me. I need that God--who knows the details of my heart: "My name is graven on his hands,
My name is written on his heart..." **

*As far as I can determine, Wisdom is a book included in some Anglican Bibles, but not included in most other Bibles--including mine....so I didn't read it.

**"Before the Throne of God," Charitie L. Bancroft, 1863.

Bread

Psalm 34/33 [morning/evening]
1 Kings 19:1-8
Ephesians 4:1-6
John 6:1-14 [be sure to read this passage too!]

Today, I made focaccia. I love baking bread because the transformation from the gluey mass made entirely of flour, water, salt and yeast, becomes a light, crunchy, olive-oiled creation topped with cheese, olives, and sundried tomatoes. A remarkable transformation. And it was good--the only thing I served for dinner (which I initially felt badly about), but it satisfied us. The textures, flavors, and just the experience of eating something we had all witnessed and participated in the preparation of was more than enough.

And so, when I read 1 Kings, and discovered Elijah fleeing Jezebel's murderous wrath, I understood the beauty of God's care for his prophet: Elijah, sure he can't go any farther (and I assume it's a spiritual AND physical struggle), finds himself fed by God--bread baked on stones. He eats, finishes, and then "the angel of the Lord" [Jesus?] urged him to eat more bread in preparation for the journey ahead. The story reads, "Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb..."

Bread baked on stones. It must have been good. It was certainly longed for by Elijah and it sustained and satisfied him. But that bread was also personal--baked by God himself. "Taste...how good God is..."

From Psalm 34:1-9 (The Message):

1 I bless God every chance I get; my lungs expand with his praise.

2 I live and breathe God;
if things aren't going well, hear this and be happy:

3 Join me in spreading the news;
together let's get the word out.

4 God met me more than halfway,
he freed me from my anxious fears.

5 Look at him; give him your warmest smile.
Never hide your feelings from him.

6 When I was desperate, I called out,
and God got me out of a tight spot.

7 God's angel sets up a circle
of protection around us while we pray.

8 Open your mouth and taste, open your eyes and see—
how good God is.
Blessed are you who run to him.

9 Worship God if you want the best;
worship opens doors to all his goodness.

Psalm 103/148 [morning/evening]
Isaiah 62:1-5, 10-12
Matthew 1:18-25
Revelations 19:11-16


Happy New Year! I've already broken 2 of my nearly 100 (I haven't counted, but it feels that high) new year's resolutions. But there's one I'm holding onto with some ferocity: Pay attention to the moment.

As I read through this morning's readings (to be quite honest, I rarely read the evening Psalm, which could actually be a great way to wrap up the day), I struggled to find a common theme. Or to again be honest, the house distracted me. That post-holiday disaster I find myself managing each year stared me down. Vaguely, as I read through Psalm 103, Isaiah, and Revelations (I have no idea why the New Year's Day reading included an account of the angel announcing the news of Mary's pregnancy to Joseph), I caught a theme of God's pleasure even in the ordinary and flawed. Isaiah describes his redemption of Jerusalem like a wedding, "the desirable place," or "the city no longer forsaken."

Maybe this does connect to Joseph; here's a man who had plans. "Normal" plans even. But God used a situation normally viewed by society as awkward and taboo to bring redemption to the earth. Maybe we sometimes altering our view of the mess gives us better vision.