The Feminine Mistake -ish

To start with, I want to make clear that I have NOT read The Feminine Mistake by Leslie Bennetts. This is not a critique of her book, but rather a reaction to this piece written by the author and this interview (tipping my hat to you, Sarah, dear). I don't plan to read the book. Whether that makes me an ignoramus with a loud opinion, y'all can decide. Personally, I've got too many other new books to read and then I want to re-read Harry Potter. And then back-issues of The Onion and then the geneologies of the Bible at least 10 times and then probably my husband's American Riflemen magazines before I get to this book.
So, as I said, this is a reaction to Bennetts' post and the interview on Book TV. And it's my blog so if I want to an uninformed ignoramus, I can. So there.
ANYWAY, here is my take on this (and Sarah, I'm reprinting some of my comments here... I'm so unoriginal).

If the Feminine Mistake is believing that our futures can be assured by our husbands, I agree with the author. However, I’d go further. If we believe that our futures can be assured by anyone including ourselves, we have made a mistake. As believers, we proclaim that it is only our gracious God who holds and shapes our lives.

For this reason, I don’t really think a conversation of what we are "sacrificing" can take place between a secular statistician/ author and Christians called to, well… anything. We will always approach our purpose and meaning and “destinies” in life fundamentally differently. At least, we should, in my opinion.

As Christians, if we believe Christ calls us to work at home, we should expect to sacrifice some things. If we believe Christ calls us to work at a bank or school or town dump, we should expect to sacrifice some things. Our lives are about sacrifice. We may not want it to be that way, but when one is in relationship with other people and with God, like it or not, one has to give up a little or a lot of one's own desires and wants.

Several of the author’s points about financial independence did get me thinking, however. Bennetts seems to suggest that women who find themselves without material resources at some point in their lives are a drain on everyone around them. In the interview, she maintains that this was the case with her grandmother. I realized when I heard this implication that I don’t know any stay-at-home mother OR working mother who wouldn’t do everything necessary, possible or seemingly impossible to make sure that their children are secure. Divorce, untimely death of a spouse, loss of a partner’s wages… would only serve to strengthen that conviction in the people I know. Further, I think most normal and sane individuals don't regard "personal sacrifice" in these sorts of extreme circumstances as elective. I base this not on thousands of hours of research and interviews like the author but on a quick mental tally of folks I have known and met throughout my life. Yes, there are a few who would feel as though they were blindsided by their loss and thus "owed" something, but MOST would do anything and everything to make their lives a success.

And it strikes me as odd to maintain that there are women who honestly have never thought of the possibility of tragedy or refuse to consider the possibility. Are these people morons? I have been in bed next to my sleeping husband thinking about how his father died suddenly at 62, weeping, and praying that will not be the case for our family, but it is a possibility. It’s a possibility that I’ll dead tomorrow. I think most people consider possibilities. If the morons don't, so be it. But their entry into the workforce is not going to save the nation.

Perhaps if there is one gift that Bennetts has given to those of us who stay home or want to stay home, it is to consider the possibilities with more attention. But it just doesn’t follow that we must therefore launch ourselves en force back into the working world, as though that will provide us ultimate security. It won't. The reality is that we are humans who make mistakes and we are on a planet with other people who make mistakes. A nice, steady career may provide us with financial security, but it does not provide us with ultimate security. And it is only in the eye of the beholder as to whether financial security, emotional security, physical security, spiritual security, etc. is superior. As people of faith, when we make the choice to follow a calling to stay home, we must recognize that we are making a choice that might not present us the highest degree of financial security. On the other hand, following a call we believe to be presented from God affords a spiritual security that forcing oneself into employment for the sake of being employed does not.

Actually, this interview and this article has once again strengthened my resolve to not only get to a point where I CAN stay completely at home with my children, but has also reminded me to present that as a possibility to my daughter and son as they grow older. I want them to know that if God calls them to be neurosurgeons they have our blessing. If God calls them to be plumbers, they have our blessing. If God calls them to stay home with their families, they have our blessing.

I want them to know as they grow that this is a worthy calling. And a high calling. And as such, it deserves to be treated with respect. The choices they make as a young woman or man could determine whether staying at home is a possibility for them. So I will be teaching them, in the words of Indiana's Grail Knight, to “choose wisely” that to which they devote their resources. And similarly, it reminds me that we, Dennis and I, need to choose wisely so that they might be gifted at some point in their life with enough material resources to make staying at home more of a possibility.

Can you tell I’m the daughter of a financial planner?

Anyway, as I said before, I think this is a completely different conversation, though, than the one that Bennetts and Schappell are having. People of faith are called to trust God. We are called to KNOW God will provide where God calls. We are called to KNOW that sometimes God calls to sacrificial circumstances. We are called to KNOW it’s still God calling and we sure as heck are called KNOW that if it’s God, we’d better follow. Because God doesn't go away when God puts a call on a life. It's one of His more annoying habits.

I hate to say that those of us with this perspective are better, but, um… well...let’s just say I’m glad that I’m on this side of the non-discussion…

Turning off, tuning in

We have decided to accept the challenge to turn off our tv entirely for the month of August. Because Dennis and I don't watch much tv, I don't anticipate that we will miss watching any shows. What I think will be difficult for us is to not depend on the tv as a babysitter for our kids. When Annalivia wakes up at 5:45-6:15 in the morning, I usually put on a dvd for her to watch while Daniel and I sleep a bit more. The problem is that I also put on a dvd for her to watch when Daniel is being fed. And one when I need to get lunch on the table. And dinner. And... well, you get the picture.
So. We are unplugging the tv and will have to rely on parental ingenuity to entertain our child and the grace of God alone to drag my sorry rear out of the bed in the morning. Pray for us, eh?
In addition to unplugging from tv, I'm going to be unplugging from the computer. I will try to blog frequently for our family and friends who are not here and just will miss the minutiae of our lives terribly if I were to stop entirely (*snort, snort*) but they won't be large posts, I don't think. Who knows...
In the meantime I am going to try to read three -- that's 3 -- as in three more than I read now -- books this month. I have a stack to get through and they're just multiplying all over the place so it's now or never, I suppose.
It's my hope that unplugging like this and being more conscious of my leisure choices will help me tune into my life a bit more. Anyone else want to take the challenge? And be my accountability pal with reading?

Higher expectations

I have been thinking a lot lately about the expectations we have or don't have for ourselves, our children, our family, our churches, and our society in general. Does it ever occur to anyone else out there that we are shortchanging ourselves in all of those areas?

I began thinking about this a couple of months ago when we took Annalivia and Daniel to their doctor for Annalivia's 2 year checkup and Daniel's 2 month check. It was about an hour past Annalivia's regular naptime and her behavior was, I thought, attrocious. She kept playing with the examining table, going through the diaper bag, running back and forth between me and the door... I was really very embarrassed.

At the end of the visit, our doctor told me that Annalivia was a very well-behaved child. I laughed out loud thinking that she was being sarcastic. She wasn't. It turns out that compared to most 2 year olds she sees, Annalivia's behavior was good. She was complimenting me on having an only partial-hellion on my hands.

In the past few months, well-meaning friends have attempted to comfort me regarding my parenting failures. One dear one asked, "Did you children eat today? Are they sitting in their own filth? Have any of them been beaten lately? No? You're doing fine."

In one way this beloved was correct. On most days, I am doing fine. The problem is, I don't want to settle for "fine". I want to do "well". I want do "faithful".

And frankly, I think that this is what my faith in Jesus is asking me to do. I personally think that, as Christians, we have settled for a lot of compromises in what we expect from ourselves and others in the name of Grace. It is not good enough to raise kids who don't rob the liquor store. It's not good enough to create a family that doesn't fall apart at some point. It's not good enough to pastor a church who doesn't spend over the budget or doesn't fight or doesn't do whatever it is that means a church is a failure. I think the life of a Christ-follower is to a higher calling than that.

And further, I think that we settle for lots because we don't want to feel a little icky about ourselves and our accomplishments or lack thereof. And we don't want others to feel uncomfortable about themselves and their accomplishments, or, ahem... the lack thereof. And I wonder if that's really the tactic we should take? I mean, please, please, please -- let's communicate that God always, always offers love and forgiveness to his children -- but let's also communicate that honoring God's work in our lives, claiming Christ as our Savior, means that we have to strive a little higher, work a little harder, be a little better than whatever it was we accepted from ourselves previously. (Yes, I said, "be a little better." I meant it.) I don't think that striving to attain high standards means we need to stand around spirtually, emotionally or physically flogging ourselves when we don't attain the prayed-for goal. In fact, we probably need to recognize that most of the time, we won't actually get where we are trying to head and at the same time continue to head in that direction as hard as we can.

I think it's time that we ask ourselves and others around us, in relationship and fellowship with us, for more. Yes, we cling to grace. Grace is the only thing that will allow us to do that which is beyond ourselves. And I really believe new life in Christ calls us beyond ourselves, and certainly beyond most standards expressed in the commons these days. We must press on, not in arrogance but in dependence on the love of Jesus to focus and sustain us. Probably all of this can be said much better here...

"So let's keep focused on that goal, those of us who want everything God has for us. If any of you have something else in mind, something less than total commitment, God will clear your blurred vision - you'll see it yet! Now that we're on the right track, let's stay on it. Stick with me, friends. Keep track of those you see running this same course, headed for this same goal. There are many out there taking other paths, choosing other goals, and trying to get you to go along with them. I've warned you of them many times; sadly, I'm having to do it again. All they want is easy street. They hate Christ's Cross. But easy street is a dead-end street. Those who live there make
their bellies their gods; belches are their praise; all they can think of is their appetites. But there's far more to life for us. We're citizens of high heaven! We're waiting the arrival of the Savior, the Master, Jesus Christ, who will transform our earthy bodies into glorious bodies like his own. He'll make us beautiful and whole with the same powerful skill by which he is putting everything as it should be, under and around him."

Philippians 3: 15-21 from The Message

In which my mainline friends disown me

So last Sunday at FCC Rock Falls, we had a patriotic sing instead of the sermon. It was a full-fledged we-love-America-palooza with national hymns, secular songs both fun and more serious.

In preparing for this event, I talked to a couple of pastor friends and told them the plan. Their response was something like, "Are you serious?" or "Oh no..." I told them I had thought about ways to justify it theologically and that I didn't want to embarrass either them or me, so I'd not share the thoughts, but as I've been thinking about it more, I want to do so and then get feedback from anyone who is willing to talk about it.

I'll begin by saying that I believe that using the Bible to support national superiority is wrong. I don't want England or France to be reading the Psalms or Romans with that sort of interpretation, so I feel like the same should apply to us. But I am just not sure that any national celebration or recognition in the church is "wrong."

As I told my church before we sang had our America-fest, I think most of us are smart enough to realize that when we say that our country is blessed, we don't believe that others in their countries are less blessed. Most of us don't apply a belief of selective blessing to our families, do we? I mean, I believe the McStews are abundantly blessed by God, but I would never assume that meant that God does not bless the Jones family and the Razinskis and the Al-Shamas. When I say "God bless America", that is my heartfelt prayer -- that God will bless our country. It is not a prayer that God will not bless England or France or Iran or wherever.

And as for expressing gratitude for the blessing we have received and will receive as a nation in the setting of corporate worship in the church building, I frankly don't understand the idea that we shouldn't bring these realms together. If the church does not exist to speak to our everyday lives, including how we live as citizens of a country or members of a family (in the case of Mothers/ Fathers Day which also tends to be loathed by mainline pastors) or brothers and sisters in the realm of God, I guess I wonder -- why do we exist?

I have to admit, I was a person who, for many years of ministry, resisted all of the things I was supposed to resist as a mainline pastor -- patriotism, overt displays of Christian identification in marriage, child-rearing and family formation (more about that later), celebration or recognition of "secular" concerns...but I have to say -- I don't know why I did. I wasn't thinking critically nor was I praying about where God would have me lead. Now, I really believe I *am* thinking critically. And I most certainly am spending a lot of time in prayer and believe that God is leading me the direction of recognizing that being a Christian is about bringing faith to bear on absolutely all areas of life including our national identity.

So -- those of you who heartily disagree with anything I've said -- what has led you to your conclusions? I really honestly would like to know, because I think I've missed something. And if anyone can tell me what that is -- well, I'd sure appreciate it.

In the meantime -- God bless America. And happy Independence Day.

Where two or three are gathered...

Last night we had an elders' meeting at church. In our system, the elders are the actual leaders of the church. Technically, I'm just an ordained elder. I like elders' meetings. These are the spiritual leaders of the church and most of these men and women take that duty very seriously. They are mostly very wise, deliberate, and discerning.

At the end of every elders' meeting, I lead a prayer as we hold hands and then we all say the Lord's Prayer together. Because there are only 10 of us, and it's rare that all of us are actually there at the same time, we fit nicely around one of the round tables in our fellowship hall.

I have found that one of my favorite things about this time is listening for each individual voice as we are praying together. I hear Larry's strong bass and Kathy's mellow alto and Carl's gravely tenor. I hear Tim strong, but not overpowering and Edythe's slightly rushing and Alice and Sharon, quiet and low.

There is something to be said for common, memorized prayer. As a restoration movement who was founded on the idea of returning to the New Testament description of the church, this is our sole common prayer. But I understand why other sects have found such power in shared, memorized prayer. There is something about all of God's people speaking as one voice the words of the faith from their hearts that reminds me of the reason we are all Church together.

"For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am in the midst of them..." Mt. 18:20

More milestones and the haunting wisdom of Amalee

Tonight we managed to catch Daniel rolling over. We've known that he is able to do it, we just haven't seen it before. He always seems to roll over in his crib or on the floor when we are out of the room. Sneaky lad, but we caught him this time.
And tonight Annalivia had a showdown with us at the dinner table. I'm happy to report we won. It was a full-blown temper tantrum with all stops pulled out. Dennis and I remained calm and firm and also loving and a little funny. We were pretty pleased with ourselves.
All of this to say -- a couple months ago, Amalee posted this reflection and it has been running through my head constantly since then. On one of the blogs I enjoy, a commenter reminded other mothers of toddlers that "the days are long, but the years are fleeting."

These women are so very right. Time has moved so quickly already. May God make me aware of the brevity of these moments and make me truly grateful for every single one.

Dreams fulfilled

Once upon a time, not too very long ago, I bought a little flower sprinkler in Target one year before I even met Dennis. I thought it was adorable so I got it though I had no need. I was working constantly at the church, living alone in this parsonage, praying and imagining that perhaps one day I would have beautiful children who would play in such a sprinkler, but also quite sure that would never actually happen.I also prayed, prayed, prayed with all of my heart for someone who would love me and cherish me who I could trust and who was capable and intelligent and clever and kind and would be a wonderful husband and would also be a wonderful father. But I was quite certain that person would never actually arrive, let alone blow bubbles for our daughter on a day when he was trying to get work on a car finished. When I was little, about 5 or maybe 6, I had a beautiful porcelain doll. Marissa had a matching doll that was slightly different. They had orange-flowered dresses and I thought they were just hauntingly beautiful. Mine had medium brown hair and big brown eyes and little bangs cut straight across her forehead. I used to pray to God that one day I'd have a daughter who looked exactly like this doll. And when I was out of college I found a precious advertisement for flooring of all things that featured a little reddish-blond haired, blue-eyed little boy and I tore it out of the magazine and carried it with me because it spoke to me so strongly.
Now, I know that God is not in the business of wish fulfillment. And I would hate to suggest to others who have hoped and prayed far more deeply than I could ever imagine that the Lord has ignored their requests and granted mine. I just want to mention that my heart feels very, very full of blessing today. So many of my dreams are real. And I am so very thankful.

Table prayers

We have been singing The Doxology at our table for the last few months as our grace. It is a nice way to thank God for our food and it teaches Annalivia a song she hears in church also. So far, she only joins in with the words, "host," "ghost", and "Amen."

I was reading one of my little books on table prayers at church today and thought that perhaps we should branch out a little. I remember reading L'Engle's books about the Austins and O'Keefes and their table prayers that were hymns or canons or writings by the great spiritual thinkers of the faith. I thought that perhaps my family would be like this. Not so much. We're doing good to keep little fingers out of the macaroni until the end of a 16 measure song.

Before Dennis and I got married, I wrote a prayer that I hoped we could use as our family table prayer. It proved too long for him back then. It's still a hope that we might incorporate it someday, but for now it remains in my head awaiting use. I bring it out sometimes for funeral lunches at church. It's a little easier to keep fingers out of the macaroni there.

All that we have,
all that we are,
all is a gift.

All is from you, God,
all is to you, God,
for it's by your grace that we live.

Of peonies and parting places

from the archives for Memorial Day weekend

Memorial Day weekends of the past found my sister and I riding in the back of my grandparents' car, fighting hard for self-control to not tap each other or poke each other or do some other annoying thing to fill the 15 minute trip between cemeteries.

The trunk of the car would be filled with peonies -- beautiful arrangements cut from Grammy's heavy peony bushes, interlaced with greenery, placed in aluminum juice cans and wrapped in newspaper, ready to be dropped into the vases on the graves of remembered relatives. The plastic bucket and wooden handled brush were there, too. And a rag made from one of Gramps' old undershirts was tucked in between the juice-can vases.

First were Grammy's parents in the old part of the cemetery in Washington, IL, then out to the country near Deer Creek to honor other relatives, then back to Eureka to tend to Gramps' parents' graves and the smallest and most haunting, the grave of their daughter, my aunt, Patsy, who had died when she was just two years old.

We'd approach the graves carrying the peonies and a bucket. Gramps would go off to fill the bucket with water and Grammy would brush any leaves or grass from the headstone with the rag. When Gramps returned, they'd wash the stone carefully and arrange the flowers. Then they'd stand for a moment in silence.

By this time, my sister and I would be running around the other graves, careful to show the respect Gramps had reminded us of on the way there. But as I grew older, I watched this ritual more carefully. Rather than running through the gravestones, I stood by Grammy's side as she paused near her parents' graves. I watched as Gramps brushed away the grass clippings from Patsy's stone. I also stood in silence pondering these people who had come before.

This year it will be me who loads up the car with peonies and iris and whatever other flowers are in bloom. My grandparents have long stopped filling the vases and carrying the water buckets and bending over to tend the graves opting instead for a slow drive-by at their parents' graves and an amble across the hill to pause a moment with Patsy.

It is a great honor to be silently passed peony-duty. I have always found myself drawn to these parting-places -- places where we leave a remembrance of our beloveds having trusted that we do not leave them at all, for we have already returned them to their Creator's eternal care. To me these parting-places are places of deep Peace.

So this year, I will brush off the stones and place the flowers. And as a mother this year, I will wonder if when tending Patsy's grave, Grammy and Gramps have brushed the grass off of that stone and thought of the way her hair lay on her head and how they used to stroke it away. And as a daughter, I will touch the cold granite on my great-grandparents' markers and wonder if Gramps and Grammy have touched the stones on their parents' final resting places and remembered what it was like to lay a hand on Momma or Daddy as a child.

Tonight my husband and I took flowers to the grave of my father in law, Harold, Dennis' dad, who passed away several months before I came to this church, far too soon. I watched as Dennis crouched in front of the marker and brushed away the grass and used a little water from the irises we brought to rub away marks on the stone. His hand lingered tenderly on the picture of the tractor his mother had engraved on the stone. And I know that as he touched that Farmall, his heart was that of a little boy watching his Daddy plow the field.

Such a small space separates those we love who live now safe in the arms of God and those of us who must be content with this earthly life. In moments like those I will encounter at the cemeteries, moments of pause, the line between "here" and "there" seems so faintly drawn.

And perhaps that's because "here" and "there" are really the same; for those that have been, those that are and those that will be are all so closely held and deeply treasured in the heart of God.

It's just that in these times of reflection we see through a mirror dimly how close together we actually are.

And that is such a great blessing and a source of such deep Peace, that I find myself praying that every place will be a parting-place where every day I will be more aware of just how close to heaven we are when we rest secure in the promises of God.

The gift of good friends

A friend is entering the Search and Call system (our denominational system for matching churches and pastors). He asked me to be a reference and after I completed the questions, I called him and shared my answers.

He said it was uncanny how similar my answers to questions about him and his answers to questions about him actually were. I said that perhaps that's because we know each other pretty well. He said something like, "No, I think it's more than that."

And he's right. It is more than that. We do indeed know each other well, but this friend and another dear one and I have a friendship that goes beyond the basic "knowing each other." We met up in seminary and shared a little corner of C building. We wrote notes to each other in class, ate dinner as cheaply as we could find it, drove miles to see each other's big events, borrowed cars, rescued each other, staged interventions on another's behalf... We laughed and cried, fussed and fought, struggled and grew and we did it together.

The extraordinary thing is that we're still doing it together. We've talked about how we don't know if other seminary friends are still friends like we are. We are friends who talk to each other frequently and by that I mean, sometimes several times a week. We are godparents to each other's children. We are each other's most honest critics and staunchest supporters. We laugh and cry, fuss and fight, struggle and grow, move forward, move back, come in, come out... and we do it together.

He's right. It is more than the fact that we know each other. Perhaps it's that we allow the other to know us so well. I personally think it's that God saw that those three not only needed each other, but that by needing and knowing each other they were going to understand more about God's love and grace than they ever thought possible by themselves. It's that we're blessed. Together.

The risen Christ is everywhere... still

Tomorrow I am finishing a six-week sermon series on the resurrection appearances of Jesus. It has been a good series for me. I've taken apart the scriptures that the lectionary lumps together, jumped between the Gospels, and managed to hear new things in the text. That's always a very nice experience.

My sermon tomorrow uses the Great Commission text from Matthew. We don't have opportunity enough to preach this text a la lectionary, in my opinion, and there is a wealth of meaning, direction, and symbolism in it. I mean, I could probably preach an entire month on the phrase, "Go forth!"

But tomorrow I'm using it as the last of the resurrection encounters and though I don't write in manuscript form and therefore have almost nothing to post on this website ever, I wanted to talk about the sermon here because part of it is the "rest of the story" from an earlier post you can read here.

For those who would rather not read all the details, the gist of it goes like this -- my congregation was helping a family to whom we were introduced on Good Friday. They were people in need of much assistance and as we moved to offer assistance, God's people provided in amazing ways. The family, who had never been very involved with church, were amazed that folks would just offer themselves and their resources to others they had never met. It was a wonderful Easter story.

After Easter, the story of this family became more complicated. The man of the couple made some poor choices, was put in jail and eventually headed back to Arkansas to live with his parents. The woman of the couple struggled along, made some poor choices, had her children sent to her family in Indiana, and eventually followed.

For those of our congregation who know/ knew about it, they shook their heads and expressed sorrow and also some sense of resignation that these poor choices were made. What I have NOT heard, however, is a regret that we went out of our way to assist this family. Now perhaps that's because they don't whisper things like that in my direction. Or perhaps it's because they know the main point of my sermon tomorrow which is this -- even if "the nations" don't respond to the gospel, we're still sent forth to share the good news.

What I have realized again, in the course of helping this family, is that it would be really great if our evangelism or mission had a happy ending, or if all our efforts as Christians could be wrapped up in a neatly presented package, preferrably with a shiny bow on top. But that's not how it is some of the time, or perhaps even most of the time. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, despite our most sincere intentions, despite our most heartfelt prayers, folks don't respond to the gifts we offer. Sometimes they do, but sometimes they make poor choices, get put in jail or get sent back to Arkansas or Indiana!

Yet Jesus calls us to offer ourselves despite the fact that he had to have known much of our work would look like failure. We are still asked to treat each other as we want to be treated. We are still asked to give of our resources for the kingdom. We are still sent forth beyond our comfort zone.

If we look at Jesus -- we might be able to see that some folks might have called his mission a failure. Look at his life -- travelling from place to place followed by a motley band of arguing followers. Look at his death -- a brutal and bloody political assasination, abandoned by most everyone. Look at his resurrection -- supernatural and terrifying and when he ascended into heaven he left the work of evangelizing to the motley clueless followers who had abandoned him. One would hardly call that a successful implementation of the grand plan.

But as we know, the story goes far beyond that moment. The key is that the work of God is never done. Christ ascended to God's presence to be super-present with us through the gift of the Spirit. The disciples received the Spirit and went to work and through the labors of their hands and hearts AND the immeasurable gifts of the Spirit, the mission of Christ to bring folks to the Creator became and has become and is becoming one of success.

So often we think that if the work we do and the resources we use do not acheive the job that the job has failed. That the work is done. But the risen Christ is everywhere -- still! In the midst of our "failures," in the midst of poor choices, in the midst of exhausted possibilities, the risen Christ is still here. And the work is not done until the Spirit stops. And the Spirit doesn't stop.

So. Tomorrow we will talk about Christ's resurrection appearance among us... still...again. And again and again and again. We will also pray that Christ will continue to appear to those for whom our work and resources was not enough to lead them to the Kingdom. And we will pray that Jesus will remind us that he doesn't give up on us, even when we think we're done or when our hubris maintains that WE are those who bring the work of the Lord to completion. We will pray that he gives us the strength and the vision to keep putting him on -- keep working in his name -- keep proclaming him wherever and whenever we go forth.

He has come to us... still. He is here with us... still. He will be with us... still.

Alleluia! Christ is risen, friends! He is risen indeed! Still!

Mother's Day

It has been a lovely Mother's Day here. My sweet love took our daughter to get me a very sparkly card. Church went well. I didn't have to cook lunch. It's been very nice.

And I'm glad for it because yesterday I was a miserable parent. Terrible. Sinful. Perhaps unforgivable.

On days like that, I flee to Ann Voskamp's incredibly beautiful and moving site Holy Experience. Every time I enter her little haven on the web, I find God speaking grace to me in exactly the way I need. She is such an amazing gift. Yesterday words from this post and this prayer, both of which I had read a few months ago, spoke to me from the recesses of my brain in the midst of my parenting failures. I was so grateful to come to the computer later and find them and hear the promises Ann has found in the Word. And later in the day, this one had me weeping.

Thank you, Ann. And bless you. You help me to see Mother's Day and indeed every day as a little more holy.

Random thoughts on a quiet afternoon

It's 2:20 and all is quiet here in this house. Actually, all has been quiet for the last hour or so. Annalivia and Daniel have finally begun to coordinate afternoon naps. It's lovely. I should lie down and take one myself, but I'm doing some stuff I want to get done. And that is recharging me as much as anything else right now.

It has been a beautiful day here. The sun was shining this morning. Now it has clouded up a little, but it is also not quite so warm. I'm so glad that the spring is here, but, truthfully, I'm not really in the mood for 80 degree days just yet.

We had our carpets cleaned at church this week which necessitates me staying home during the day. Not that this is anything new at all, but it is nice to be mandated to stay home by something other than my own lack of desire to drag children and self into the office. I have a meeting tonight, so tomorrow I won't have this excuse. But yesterday and today, it was nice. And tomorrow, Wednesday, my secretary is out, so I'll be home again. Lovely.

And I'm grateful for the retreat. Our church family has been hit by yet another terminal illness. This time it is the 50-ish year old husband of a beloved member of the congregation. The woman who is the member of the church has grown up in the church and was a teacher in the community for 30 years before her MS forced an early retirement. The husband has lung cancer and has probably weeks to live at the most. Their daughters are slightly younger than me. I don't know how they will handle it. The family is close, but there is also a lot of posturing and secret-keeping going on. I am praying for their strength emotionally, spiritually, and physically.

And I am also praying for my little church. It seems as though we are holding so many of these situations in our hearts right now that at any moment, they might break open.

I find that for myself it is more and more difficult to bear the heartaches of others as my children grow and change. I'm so much more acutely aware of the tender strings that bind us to each other, I guess. And life seems so very full that it can't help to be fragile. Does that make any sense?

So, today, I'm just very grateful for a little quiet time to sit here in the warmth of my home and be thankful for my loves and this too short time we get to enjoy each other. I am reminded that I should contemplate the brevity of this blessing everyday. What a gift life is.

The blessing of a marvelous man

My sweet love related a story to me tonight on the way home from class. His professor, in teaching his class some miscellaneous management theory, asked the men to write down five things which defined "Beauty." He called on Dennis and asked him to share his definition of beauty.

Dennis said, "My wife."'

Oh, I do love this man.

A child more biblically literate than I

In an attempt to help Annalivia reach adulthood with more retention of the Biblical stories than a vague remembrance that Exodus is after Genesis and that Jesus is mentioned in the second half of the Bible, we have been reading The Toddler's Bible.

I have to say -- I highly recommend it. In fact, I wish I would have bought it a good year ago. The illustrations are very nice gentle depictions. The stories are VERY simplified and are each about four pages long with about two sentences per page. I personally think Annalivia could handle more detail, but I like that this format leaves lots of room for discussing and interpreting the stories. Each of them can be easily embellished, but they are also simple enough that each of them can be easily remembered by a little one.

Annalivia is particularly fascinated with the baby Moses story, which I suppose I should have predicted given that she is obsessed with babies and dolls. She loves to flip through the book and find the pictures of the baby Moses and then talks about every detail of the illustration.

In fact, what I like most about this book is that Annalivia is drawn to it. She wants me to read it to her several times a day and I often find her leafing through it on her own. It would be so exciting to me if my children could have a grounding in scripture that would encourage their faith. It really would be nice if they didn't have to wonder what the Bible said about something (even after four semesters of seminary Bible class) but instead knew it in their hearts.

Y'all will want to read this

More Cows has a great -- GREAT -- Easter sermon posted at her place. Makes me want to bookmark so that I can claim that my Easter preparation is done for next year, too!
BUT, I won't...

The risen Christ is everywhere

On Maundy Thursday, my mother came up to hang out with Annalivia and Daniel while I was at our Upper Room dinner and Dennis was at school. Mom didn't end up leaving until about 9:30 p.m. About 25 minutes later, Mom called from her cell phone. She had happened upon a family who had hit a deer with their van. When Mom asked them where they were from, they said that they were from here. She offered to give them a ride home and eventually it came out that they had been living in their van for the last two months.
The couple is in their late twenties and have been married for five years. He is black. She is white. They have three children aged 3 and under. Her parents hate him because he's black. His parents tolerate her barely because she's white. After he lost his job in a factory, her aunt here in town said that she and the children could come live with them. He couldn't come. He's black, after all. But they had no other options, so she and the kids came here. He went home to Arkansas.
Here, the mom and kids tried to make a life. She had a job, then they found that the 8-month old baby has a heart condition that will require surgery in Rockford, north of here. She was in and out of doctors' offices and clinics, making working almost impossible. When the aunt lost her job, she said that she didn't want the kids in the house when she was home. So they tried to drive around while the aunt was at home. Eventually, the aunt suggested they move out completely. They moved into the van.
On Thursday, the family was on their way to her parents' house in Indiana, even though they knew that they'd have to be split up again. But they had no money or food. They had to do something. Her mother had sent her $40 for gas and tolls. She filled up the tank for $38, realized there was no way she would make it on the toll road that runs by our town, and headed south to pick up the next interstate.

When she hit the deer, the radiator on the van was finished. The headlights were broken. The airbag deployed. Two teens driving behind them stopped and offered to call 911. They were drinking beer, the woman said, and must not have called because no one came. My mom came upon them an hour later in 30 degree weather, called 911, and summoned a sheriff who got the van towed. Then Mom brought the family to the homeless shelter here in town.
They had to leave the homeless shelter at 7 a.m. We picked them up and took them to church then got them set up at a local motel that has a weekly rate of $155. The hotel is not the greatest place to be, but it is warm and has beds and a shower. And there's a laundromat there, all of which is a far cry from the seats of their van and bathrooms in rest areas where they have been taking sponge baths and trying to rinse out clothes for the last few months.
At the same time we were doing all of this, Dennis was talking to the guy who owns the place where the van was towed. We were worried about how much things would cost to have them repaired. A radiator, headlights and a new airbag are not cheap. We had a generous donation of $500 to help with the cost of the repairs, but we were worried it would be far more.
We were also worried about the family's supplies. The baby had one outfit which she was wearing and was filthy. The clothes they had were mostly moldy because they'd been washed out in rest area bathrooms and hung in the cold van to drip dry. And they needed shoes and bottles and suitcases or bags and diapers. It seemed kind of overwhelming.
I had only $200 in my discretionary account, most of which was spent on the motel room. I went to a local secondhand shop that always has cool Christian hip-hop and gospel blaring through the speakers. I picked up a bunch of stuff and at the counter, when asked about the various sizes, told the girls there about the family. They discounted everything 50% and took my name so that they could pass along other things when they find them.
I also got return calls from other pastors who offered to use their discretionary accounts, if necessary. The Catholic priest in particular, was very helpful in figuring out some basics in terms of care for these folks. And then the guy from the auto shop called. The van was done. Dennis and I went to get it and Dennis went in to pay for it. When he came out he handed me the bill and said, "The man's a saint." The bill was $50 to cover the cost of towing. The man had donated all labor and parts, and discounted the towing a heck of a lot. I almost cried.
And then there's my momma, who is just one of the most generous, giving, and compassionate women in the world. She spent the day getting clothes for the family and washing them all up, placing them in new suitcases and getting them ready for us to bring back to them after Easter.
After each new development, I would stop by the family's hotel room to explain what was happening to them. The mother wept openly every time I stopped by their room yesterday. Her husband whooped for joy when he heard about the van being fixed. They kept saying that they didn't understand why people were being so kind to them. In their hometowns, in their families, there was never grace or second chances or forgiveness. Why are they encountering it now?

I told them that this is our job as Christians -- to be Christ to others. The new life we have should change how we live this life, I told them. They didn't understand why this grace is offered now, but they want to, so they're coming to church today.

In the process of all of this, I have received renewed affirmation as to the power and presence of the Spirit in the followers of Jesus. As I said to Mom near the end of the day yesterday, after receiving the gift of that $50 receipt, "The risen Christ is everywhere."

And He is. It's HIM that this family is talking about -- this unseen thing that offers them and us grace abundant -- this reason "why?" which requires us to do better and be better than the standards set by the world around us. In the midst of life -- the pretty and ordered, as well as the messy and difficult -- He is risen. And it is our great privilege as Christ-followers to proclaim Him at church, at the grocery store, in the traffic lane, at the auto shop...
"I will not leave you comfortless, I will come to you," he says.
And he has.

He has come to this family, though they might not recognize Him yet. And he has come to me and my family, reminding us again of why we put on His name and call ourselves His.
He has come.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Christ is risen, indeed!

Have a blessed Easter, all.

100 Things Contest

4/4: Please see prize update at bottom of post!!

In honor of the 100th day of the year, which is Tues. April 10, and all of the free time with which those of us in church leadership will find ourselves in the days immediately following Easter (y'all have not a thing to do, right?), I am sponsoring a 100 Things About Me contest.

The jist -- you write your 100 Things and post it here, and your name will be entered into a random drawing for a fabulous prize somehow related to the number 100. Actual rules follow.

More than receiving the token prize, I think the blessing for most of us will be in sharing this spiritual exercise together. God is with us all of our days -- the busy, the lazy, the joyous, the downright hard. I think sharing these Things, as mundane as they might seem, allows us to see, with a little more clarity, his fingerprints on our lives. At least, that is my hope. So whaddya say? You in?

Here are the rules:

1. Contest begins now and ends on April 15, thereby allowing all of us to focus on something in addition to getting our taxes to the post office by midnight. A winner will be named shortly thereafter.

2. Entries should be in the form created by lovely Queen Heroical at this link . Please number your list like hers, too.

"I have lived.." followed by 10 things

"I have witnessed..." followed by 10 things

"I have heard..." 10 things

"I have lost..." 10 things

"I have found..." 10 things

"I love..." 10 things

"I can..." 10 things

"I loathe..." 10 things

"I hope..." 10 things

"I am trying..." 10 things

Please use these categories, though you may rearrange them as you'd like. And though QH is amazingly creative, please try not to plagiarize her any more than necessary.

3. It's ok if entries were published before this contest began.

4. Entries must be posted in the comment section of this blog. Feel free to link to your blog, but do copy your Things here so we can all enjoy them in one spot.

5. Anyone can enter -- clergy, laity, man, woman, Jew or Greek, slave or free. Entrants must, however, be human and living on Earth. As charming as it is, I don't care about the 100 Things about one's pet. Sorry.

6. I reserve the right to erase any icky entries. Challenging is ok. Vulgar isn't.

Updated to add: I've decided the prize will be a gift certificate in the amount of ten sets of 100 pennies to Amazon.com. NOW are you in??

Privilege of ministry #1,387

So the patriarch of our church is dying.

He's 92 and has been suffering from Alzheimers for the last 9 months. He was taken to the hospital Monday morning and it was discovered that he suffered a heart attack and has pneumonia. The family has authorized only pain meds to be administered. Now they are just waiting for death to come.

This man is the son-in-law of the beloved pastor who was here for 47 years. The beloved pastor's daughter is 90 and still in our church. So is her daughter and their family.

When the beloved pastor (BP) retired, he tried to pass the church to this man. This man felt he couldn't do ministry as well as his father-in-law (and from what I hear, Jesus himself could have learned a thing or two from the bp), so he declined. And he always regretted it. But he was a devoted servant and led this church even without the title.

I have been with the family a lot so far this week and it is clear to me that he was also the spiritual rock of this family. His children have left his side only to force their mother to go home and go to bed, grandkids have been driving and flying in, great-grandchildren have been seen, legs impatiently swinging, in the lobby chairs at the hospital... he is very much loved.

And probably the most inspiring thing to me is that they are all very ready to let him go Home. They have a faith in Heaven that puts this pastor to shame -- such a strong belief in the glory of the Promise that they all smile through their tears. As one of his daughters said, "It's almost like we're excited for the funeral so that we can really just celebrate his new life. We need that."

I think all in my little church need a real celebration of life, too. I know I need it. It would do us good to remember that there is Life beyond us -- beyond budget woes or ministry challenges or service attendance. There is Life.

And it is just like this guy to give us this gift. He was an amazing servant in life and he'll be an inspiration even in death. I'm grateful for the opportunity to celebrate with his family. To think I get paid for this...

Baby boy breast boycott

So. Little Daniel Robert is heading into week three of the Great Breast Boycott of 07.
He still won't latch on and nurse, preferring instead to have a silicone bottle nipple forced into his mouth while he reclines and lets engineered and artificial ingredient-laden formula drip into this mouth.
As a processed-food aficionado, I can sympathize. It is, however, quite frustrating for this mother who nursed Annalivia for 15 months after a tumultuous start and just assumed that baby #2, who was, gestationally, a whole two weeks older, would be able to nurse like a little champ. Not so, not so. And it ticks me off.

When Annalivia was born and I found myself tethered to her side 24/7 and at her beckon call, I developed a whole theology based on breastfeeding. It basically went something like this -- God is the Big Boob in the Sky* who offers everything that God's children need in terms of nourishment, nurture, etc., is constantly in demand, constantly offers Godself again and again even unto the point of giving God's entire being to us....
(And now, adding to the theology based on my experiences with Daniel)
...which we still don't find satisfactory and thus seek artificial substitutes that fill us with lesser nutrients for our lives, but somehow fulfill enough in us to keep us placated for a little while at which point we will start crying out to God for the nourishment which is offered all along, but which we will not accept. And then we'll seek out the fake stuff again and be placated again. For two or three hours, at least.
That sounds about right, eh?
It's a wonder God is so patient with us. I'd be really, really ticked off.

*And lest you think this is just as blasphemous as can be, please note that the term El Shaddai in the Bible, which is translated, "God almighty," is derived from the Hebrew word "shad" meaning in all its translations in the scriptures, "breast," and thus, perhaps El Shaddai would be better translated, "God the great breast-like" or less literally, "God all-sufficient". "Boob" may be, perhaps, a little coarse...