"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.

Pen and Ink

Psalm 20, 21/23, 27 [morning/evening]
1 Kings 17:17-24
John 4:46-54
3 John 1-15

[Note: Read the passages from 1 Kings and John together...beautiful symmetry]

3 John 13-14 reads, "I have much more to say to you, but I don't want to write it with pen and ink. For I hope to see you soon, and then we will talk face to face."

I'm terrible about getting together with friends. I have a suspicion that many of my friends think I can be a little bit of a flake. And while this sometimes happens to married people, I've always been like this. Given the opportunity to stay at home with a book or a project or meet up with a friend for coffee, I'll most likely choose the book every time. I'm a homebody. A little bit of a loner.

But this week, I've scheduled (see how warm and fuzzy my language is?) two get togethers with friends. A dear girlfriend is arriving in just a few minutes for a long-talked about coffee, and I'm finally following through with a six month old invitation tomorrow. But I don't feel like an anti-social person on any normal day. There's facebook, email, the sometimes hundreds of people I see every week, phone calls, casual encounters with family or friends at church. But there's something about the way John ends his third and final letter that makes me pause.

There are some things that can only be understood face to face. Pen and ink have their limitations.

What I did on my first day of Summer Vacation...

Today, on our first day of summer vacation, Luke and I played, rediscovered one another, and my time felt so free I could simply watch him. I must say he amazed me. Not that he's some super-toddler, but I find myself analyzing his personality. What does his reaction to the toppling of his blocks say about how he may handle disappointment? How does he wait so patiently for me to pit cherries when I know he's famished? Will his joy over acts of service carry into the future?

I learned so much from watching him today in two separate, but connected situations. First--while we were playing outside, he began a game of truck relocation; what made the game interesting is that he used the same method of relocation for each truck in the cycle. If he pushed one, he pushed them all, if he dragged one, he dragged each. It wasn't so much the routine in his work (play), it was how he got there. He fell into a pattern and then stuck with it. Determination, perseverance, and carefulness marked his actions. I know I can't say that for myself. From tiny ages (close to his), I will only accept perfection on a first try and refuse to try again if that's not achieved. He handled his mistakes and challenges with a grace I'm still learning to accept.

Later, we began a specialized swim lesson called Infant Swimming Resources (ISR). They aim to teach children to survive in the water to prevent drowning. After witnessing three screaming children struggle through the ten minute lesson, I was nervous. I wanted to encourage Luke, but I knew he'd sense the fear in a fake smile if he protested to that degree. But--he didn't. He giggled, choked on water, laughed, splashed, and did exactly what they asked him to do, but he also navigated through moments of fear, disappointments, and insecurity.

There's something to be said to this idea: "we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts..." (from Romans 5)

St. Patrick's Day 2009

Last night we took Luke to Main St. in Rock Hill for the St. Patrick's Day celebration. We need to do more stuff like this; just the other day I saw a couple who surfs on TV who were visiting South Korea (to surf) with their six month old baby. Envy isn't even the word--walking across swinging bridges next to mountains and temples and scenery so green it almost looks like a backdrop? I want that. Or do I...I'm a drill sergeant when it comes to naps and food (just for Luke...I eat all sorts of terrible things) and I'm sure they have to be a bit more laid back than me. And help--I bet they have help; surely the baby doesn't wait on the beach by himself as the catch the next wave. But I digress...

Luke loves music; it was my second favorite piece about watching him last night. The violin and guitar duo captivated him, and he danced, and clapped, and yelled in delight. He has a penchant for bluegrass, country, acoustic, and any live music. He's particular--loves Willy Nelson, but not such a fan of the Dixie Chicks. We discovered all of this one evening when he watched Neal Young enraptured on the couch, but handed the remote to Cory and whined when John Mellencamp began to play. Cory and I both love music (even if our tastes are different), and now I see that this can be a place for all of us to spend time together with something we love individually and collectively.

But that was only my second favorite part from last night. The highlight of the evening came when Cory ran into a friend of his dad's. They talked--about horseshoes, about his dad, about Luke--and this, this was the highlight of the night. Cory's dad died a week to the day after our wedding. He never met Luke. I see Luke's Poppa in him--when he plants everything he can find, when he sleeps, when he runs to the door to check on a suspicious noise. And here was a man who could look at Luke and possibly see that too.

A great St. Patrick's Day.

"...do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them." Deuteronomy 4:9b