Not a Mommy Blogger

I’ve been struggling with something for a while now. It’s this little thought in the back of my mind that rears itself up at inopportune times, and really, is probably always there, casting doubt and causing me to second-guess what I have to say.

So here it is: In case you haven't noticed, I am not a mommy blogger. I don’t know the arguments of disposable vs. cloth diapering. I can’t tell you about car seat safety. I can’t commiserate with you about how challenging parenting can be, or offer you glimpses into an epiphany I’ve had about the beauty of motherhood. I can’t write about the mommy wars and how we all need to band together. I’m not making fun of any of this at all. There is just this huge population that I simply cannot relate to, and who in many ways now cannot relate to me and my world without kids.

This will probably change one day. I’m sure if Geoff and I have kids at some point, what I am learning will naturally find its ways into what I write about. This is a choice we’ve made for this time in our lives. But when it comes to writing, I often feel like I have so little to offer. I think about my friends who are moms, and the encouragement or advice that they might need, and I come up short.

But. But. I have found this encouragement. I may not write about the parenting experience, but I can write about my experience. And it’s in embracing this role fully that I am able to say something that might resonate with someone out there, whether you are a parent or not. But, if I allow inadequacy to creep in, if I think that my story isn’t fully orbed enough to have a voice, then I am paralyzed.

Our success in anything is usually found first in embracing where we are. A teacup that secretly thinks spoons are more useful is still a teacup, but probably a rather unhappy one (if teacups had emotions, that is.)

And it works both ways, doesn’t it? A mom or dad who continually looks longingly back at a time before children, or who resents or feels inadequate for not being able to do all that they want to do, will be a rather unhappy and frustrated parent. And it’s actually when you, as a mom or dad, embrace your calling that others find something of the common human experience that resonates with them, something to aspire to. A parent who is the best parent that he or she can be will teach me far more about life and who I want to be than a person who makes no effort to thrive in their season of life, even if their life season looks more like mine. I think of a friend who is a mom of three. She is an excellent mom, and even though I may not emulate her in the specifics, when I see how seriously she takes her role as a mom, I think to myself, “I want to be like that. I want to do my best at what I have been given to do.”

It's not about perfection. You have bad days. And even though my laundry may not be piled high, I have bad days too. And just like you, my own flaws are often the culprit, or at least a huge contributing factor. But, I think that it is when we embrace our respective callings and stations in life that we find fulfillment and joy sneaking up on us. When I say, "Gosh darn it, I'm going to share my story and what I'm learning whether I think people can relate or not", nine times out of ten, someone seems to relate.

So, my vote is that we should hang our hang ups. To sound cliche, let's bloom where we're planted. The world needs people who unapologetically seek excellence right where they are. You who are parents, doing the hard work of raising kids day in and day out? You inspire me. And although my corner over here might be a bit quieter than yours (yes, I'm trying to enjoy it while I have it, like I've heard I should), I hope that I can offer some encouragement for you along the way. You won't hear from me about how I wanted to pull my hair out over a toddler's tantrums. But you will hear about a woman who is desperate for Jesus, who has found him to be the light who illumines her darkness and the healer of her deepest wounds. And if you have him, no matter your station in life, no matter if your social interaction for the day was talking with the mailman, you have something--Someone--to share.

John the Baptist was the cousin of Jesus and his whole purpose in life was to point people to Jesus. He summed up his calling when he was questioned about his identity and said, "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord." What strikes me about John is that he was completely ok with everyone's attention shifting to Jesus once he arrived on the scene. Of course, that was the way it was supposed to be, but knowing my own heart, I think I would have begrudged Jesus the attention at least a tad. But I want to be like John. I want to go all out in whatever calling the Lord gives me, all the while saying, Look at him. And we can all raise our voices--voices in this wilderness today--saying, look at Jesus; isn't he great?

A Tool for Reflection

One of my resolutions for the New Year was to write for at least ten minutes a day on the days that I'm not already blogging. I set a kitchen timer, open a word document, and type about whatever comes to mind, trying to not give too much thought to how any of it actually sounds. The idea is simply to practice writing. Often, I will write about the activities of the day, reflecting upon particular moments that stand out, things that brought me joy or that I want to learn to do better. And what I have discovered is that this practice is not only a beneficial writing exercise, but that it is a beneficial life exercise. Here's why: as you think back on your day, you are forced to remember the things that took place. Sounds fairly obvious, right? But, if a time is not set aside to do this, chances are, much of the activities of the day will be forgotten, and opportunities for reflection and growth will be lost. By writing, you are able to relive moments and to pause and consider how you may have done things differently, how you could have responded better in specific situations. You can also see moments where you did things well, and note how you can act similarly in the future. This can also be an excellent way to grow in gratitude, for from start to finish, our days are packed with things for which to give thanks. If we would only take the time to look back, we would notice myriads of blessings that may have passed by unnoticed at the time. Often, my joy is increased as I am reminded of highlights throughout my day, and it's not unusual for a smile to come to my face as I enter into and reflect upon those moments once again.

For much of my life, I have valued the practice of living reflectively (hence the name of this blog). I have boxes filled with journals and have often sought to sit in silence in order to process events in my life. But I have noticed myself declining in this area recently. It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I have often been guilty of totally missing something Geoff has told me because I was scrolling through Facebook or looking at my phone. I would have thought that I was listening, but come to find out, I heard only a small part of what he said. I’ve also noticed that my attention span isn’t what it used to be. I’m not sure if it’s due to social media and the mindless clicking of whatever link that catches my attention, but I wouldn’t be surprised. We can so easily become receivers of information with little opportunity to actually process what comes through our senses. We can become disconnected and lose our ability to focus and to be fully engaged in the moment. But spending time writing every day (along with less idle scrolling and clicking) is a way to combat the atrophy of our attention and to anchor ourselves in the moment. It’s a way to produce thoughts and ideas rather than merely being a recipient of information. It’s a way of  living more actively and less passively. 

In his book When I Don't Desire God, John Piper discusses the importance of taking notes while reading Scripture as a means of being more engaged with the content. What he says about writing is helpful in general, I think:

"Writing is a way of slowing us down and opening our eyes to see what we do not otherwise see. This struck me so forcefully one day that I paused and wrote:

                 I know not how the light is shed,

                        Nor understand this lens

                 I only know that there are eyes

                        In pencils and in pens."

I have definitely found this to be true. Writing helps us to see things about ourselves and about God and the world, that we might not see without pen (or laptop) in hand. So, even if you don't consider yourself a writer or even think you enjoy writing, perhaps you could still benefit from this practice once a day? Maybe make it an experiment to write for ten--even five--minutes each evening, for the next thirty days and see what kind of effect it has upon you. You might be surprised by what you learn.

Bus Route Blessings and a Good Kind of Dying

It was a Sunday like many others. We had sung some great songs, read some Scripture, and were in the middle of listening to one member's story of how he began following Jesus, when Geoff and I noticed a man (I'll call him Jim) who had visited a few times before, standing near the side entrance to the sanctuary. Jim looked like he was dressed for his bus driving job and was just popping in for a minute, so we smiled and waved (our church is casual enough for this not to be a distraction). A man sitting nearer to the door noticed him and stepped out into the hallway to see what he might need. A few moments later, I looked to see the man who had gotten up, his arms around Jim's shoulders, both with their heads bowed in prayer. 

And then, our visitor went on his way. I figured, and later discovered correctly, that he was on his bus route and had come in simply for a bit of encouragement and prayer, a “blessing,” to be precise. Witnessing this scenario brought tears to my eyes and made me think: isn’t that just what the Church is meant to be? A place, of refuge, a retreat, an oasis in the desert that is the world we live in. It brings me joy to know that this man had found a safe place in our Church, a place of comfort and love that he knew he could come to for a bit of refreshment in the midst of his daily grind.

And when I say Church and place what I really mean is a people. It's the people, not the building, who have the ability to incarnate the love of Christ before others. If you grew up in church, you may remember the children's rhyme with hand motions that says, "Here's the church, and here's the steeple. Open the door, and see all the people." A very unhelpful rhyme, actually. It should say, "...open the door, The Church is the people." But I digress...or do I? =)

True, the Church is many things besides a place of refuge. It's the community wherein believers are equipped to minister to others at their jobs and in in their homes and in all the places in-between--whether they are ever paid ministers or not. It's in the context of this community where followers of Jesus can make a public declaration that Jesus is their Lord by being baptized. And it's with fellow followers of Jesus that we remember his death on our behalf and look forward to his second coming through sharing bread and wine (or juice, if you're Baptist) together.

But, if The Church is made up of people who follow Jesus and call him Lord, and if he says that those people are to be marked by love--that the world will know that they are his disciples by the love they have for one another--that anyone who doesn't love his brother walks in darkness--can The Church really be a Church if it isn't a loving community? An unloving Church is an oxymoron.

There's much confusion in our culture about the nature of love. I'm not talking about warm fuzzies, or about having no boundaries with abusive people. I'm not talking about affirming or turning a blind eye to destructive behaviors. I am talking about walking with people for the long-haul through the not-so-pretty terrain of overcoming bad habits and learning a new way of life. I'm talking about sometimes rearranging your schedule and sharing your stuff and learning patience. Really, it all comes down to imitating Jesus in his death on our behalf. Not that you and I will likely be in the position to literally die for someone else, but in the daily-ness of life, we follow Jesus by loving other people in ways that often go against what we might feel like doing. And it feels a little like death. Even as I type this, I am convicted, because I know I don't live (die) like this enough. But there's also this promise that Jesus has for the struggling disciple, that if we come to him and allow him to teach us his ways, if we take his "yoke" upon us, we will actually find rest for our souls. And contrary to what we might expect, he says that his yoke is easy and his burden is light. But, the soul-rest comes from doing things Jesus' way, not by assuming he's going to do it all for us.

 So, being The Church is definitely more than a handshake and a "how are you?" on a Sunday morning. It's, in part, praying with a man named Jim in a hallway. Not that a prayer like this is some difficult task, but it's being the kind of community that demonstrated love and hospitality in the first place--a love that drew him back and helped him know he would be noticed and not denied. It's saying, "Come follow Jesus with me," and then sticking around through the nitty-gritty of what that actually means. It's being a people who keep coming to Jesus to learn how to die (truly live).

How to Offend People

Proverbs 18: 19 says, "A brother offended is more unyielding than a strong city, and quarreling is like the bars of a strong castle."

The writer of this Proverb is stating a general fact, not necessarily giving advice on how to avoid offending a brother. But it's an important fact to note: once a person has been offended, they are difficult to win back to your good graces, and quarreling erects obstacles which create relational separation and are as difficult to overcome as the steel bars on an ancient castle.

There seems to be an implied admonition:  if this is the case, try not to offend your brother!

But how do you avoid offending someone? This is a good question to ask, but an even better one is probably, "How do I love my brother?" I think it's important to ask this question regularly, but especially when the risk for offending someone may be more high. So, here are a few ways to potentially offend people, along with some suggestions for loving them instead.

1. Say thoughtless things during times of grief, struggle, or disappointment. This is a time to be especially sensitive. Do you ever hear a person offer condolences to someone who is grieving and their words make you cringe? Or maybe you've seen the comments on someone's Facebook wall when they post about a friend or family member's death. There are the well-meaning, but generally unhelpful comments such as, "She's in a better place" and "You're young; you can still have more kids." And then there are the chastising/ instructional comments like, "If you had had more faith this wouldn't have happened" (yes, it's really been said), or "You just need to trust God." These kinds of comments can cause people to distance themselves from you because your words are hurtful or because they feel like you are trying to fix them. A great rule of thumb for what to say in these times is less is more. We really don't have to try to think of something meaningful or eloquent to say. In the midst of profound grief, it's doubtful that much of what we say will even register with a sorrowing friend. But I have heard a grieving friend say that simply hearing, "I'm sorry" really means a lot. I learned all this the hard way. You can read about it here.

2. Share a confidence. I'm not sure why this is true, but it seems that when something isn't supposed to be repeated is when it's the most tempting to repeat. It can feel like an itch that you just have to scratch. But just as it won't kill us to not scratch an itch, it definitely won't hurt us to keep a secret. In fact, not keeping a secret is what could actually cause harm. Proverbs 16:28 says, "A dishonest man spreads strife, and a whisperer separates close friends. It seems in this instance "whisperer" is referring to someone who gossips about or shares the secrets of a friend. Of course, there are exceptions to this, like when someone's life is in danger and it would be wise to seek outside help. But the extremes are not what we typically deal with in our everyday life. What we need most of the time is some good ol' fashion' self-control. The relational stakes are too high when it comes to gossip and sharing secrets. Getting something off of our chest or feeling the power of sharing some shocking piece of information is never worth the risk of damaging a relationship or causing pain to another person. What is the loving thing? If we always asked this question before talking about someone behind his or her back, I'm sure our tendency to gossip would decrease dramatically.

3. Share your opinions, but don't try to understand those of anyone else. More wisdom from Proverbs: "A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion." Even if you don't agree with someone, it's loving to try to see where they are coming from. We all long to be understood. Along with this, I think we need to be careful not to be the person who turns everything someone shares with us back to ourselves. You've probably experienced this before: you start telling someone a story of something that happened to you, and before you can even finish, they're interjecting, "Me too, so there was this one time..." As an introvert, this has happened to me many times and it can be terribly frustrating. But it also makes me want to be all the more sensitive to conversational dynamics and how I can avoid perpetuating the problem of selfish communication. I remember after spending a summer in East Asia, someone shared these words during debriefing, "You have spent weeks straining to understand people who are not native English speakers. You have acquired a skill in listening that you can apply to your life back home." It's been seven years since I heard those words, but they've stuck with me all this time. I wish I could say I have always applied the same determination in trying to understand and listen to others as I did when I was overseas...but unfortunately, some of that sense of urgency has worn off. But, isn't it worth it to do the work of trying to understand others? Isn't it worth our attention and imagination and a little bit of dying to self?

So there you have it, three ways that you can potentially offend another person. This isn't an exhaustive list by any means, but hopefully gives a little food for thought. Let's strive to be people who avoid offending by choosing the way of love.

Meeting God at the Gym

Being self-disciplined has never been my strong suit. I like to sleep in when I can. I'm good at organizing my house, but not the best at organizing my time. And until recently, exercise was not a very big part of my life. I grew up taking ballet, but when I stopped taking lessons my physical activity was limited to my job doing massage, and my occasional jog or walk, or the yoga or ballet classes I took in college.

But at the beginning of last year, Geoff and I decided that something had to give. We were getting a gym membership, whether we felt like it or not. Geoff, who had been a personal trainer in the past as well as a fairly serious weight lifter, became my trainer and we began a rather intentional work out regimen. I learned how to do squats and dead lift and I learned what really being sore can feel like. I also learned that my default is to give up when things are hard. There have been times when I thought I absolutely could not do one more rep, and then Geoff would assist me and I suddenly had it in me to do more. As it turns out, he wasn't actually helping me lift the weight, but when I thought he was, I had the mental capacity to push myself further. Which revealed the fact that I had it in me to keep going all along.

Over the past year I have felt my body become stronger and healthier, but perhaps equally or more importantly is the fact that I have felt my spirit become stronger and healthier. Pushing myself in the area of physical exercise has shown me that I can push myself in other areas as well. I can set a timer for ten minutes every day and write at least that long, whether I feel inspired or not (this is day 15 and going strong!). I can implement rhythms into my life that don't have to bend to whatever might seem more urgent at the moment. I can say no to some things in order to say yes to others.

So often, when we find that we need a change, there really is a better way out there. We just have to do our part in order for that better way to be opened up to us. It can be a grueling process.  But this is how change happens.

It might sound strange, but working out is probably one of the most spiritual things I've ever done, if by spiritual we mean something that helps us to know ourselves and God more fully. I've grown up going to church and doing mission trips and praying, etc. These are all good things, but they generally don't force me out of my comfort zone. They could easily be something to hide behind until I dealt with my lack of discipline and my fear of learning new things and looking like an idiot at the gym. That's right, I can travel to China or teach English in Moldova, but put me in a gym and my heart rate was up before my first set of anything. The Lord sees my heart and He knows the real issues that are there--no matter how together I might try to appear on the outside.

I share all this as a testimonial of sorts. There are many out there who are far more disciplined than me and whose areas of struggle look different than mine. But I wonder if you too might have something that you need to face, that might just have the dual benefit of forming your character more towards goodness. It might be learning to play an instrument or stretching yourself in new ways socially. It might be sharing a talent with the world that you've kept hidden--like singing or writing or teaching. Whatever it may be, I suspect that your life and the lives of others will be enriched as you choose to discipline yourself and maybe even face some deep fear. There's a beauty in this kind of vulnerability that trumps the pseudo security of mediocrity any day. I think it's a beauty that attracts the heart and assistance of God, maybe because the beauty of vulnerability is a hostile environment for pride--and where pride is leveled humility can grow.

There's been a lot of vulnerability at the gym for me, which I hope means some humility is on its way. Scripture says that God gives grace to the humble but resists the proud. I don't know about you, but I sure want the grace of God in my life. If training my body and facing some irrational fears helps to facilitate that, then I think it's worth every minute. The gym might seem an unlikely place to meet God, but if it's the place where my pride is dissolved and grace is received, it might not be so unlikely after all.

Thoughts on Hospitality

Growing up, almost every Sunday was Hospitality Day. My mom would often call someone during the week and invite them to have lunch with us after church. Other times, she would have the meal and house prepared, and would offer a spontaneous invitation to a new person she met during the greeting time of the service.

It usually wasn't anything fancy. She would make a couple casseroles, taco salad, or sometimes something as simple as tuna sandwiches. The important thing was what took place around the dining room table. Stories were told, laughter was shared, lives were woven together--all because one lady took the time to ask, "Do you have lunch plans today?"

I've tried to emulate my mom in her hospitality, but I think I have a ways to go in opening up my home as freely as she did (and often still does, as her health allows).  Geoff and I both want to make it a point to open up our home to others more this year. Jen Hatmaker, in her book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess motivates me with this beautiful picture of hospitality:

There is something so nourishing about sharing your living space with people where they see your junk mail pile and pee wee football schedule on the fridge and pile of shoes by the front door. Opening your home says, "You are welcome into my real life." This square footage is where we laugh and hold family meetings and make homemade corn dogs and work through meltdowns. Here is the railing our kids pulled off the wall. This is the toilet paper we prefer. These are the pictures we frame, the books we're reading, the projects we're undertaking--the raw material of our family. It's unsanitized and truthful. We invite you into this intimate place, saturated with our family character.

I know some common objections to offering hospitality are the work that it takes to make the house look descent, or the idea that the food has to be some elaborate, gourmet production, but Jen's words actually make the opposite sound more appealing. To let others see the real us, in our real element--not some magazine cover version of us--this is the stuff of genuine fellowship. This type of authenticity provides the fertile ground needed for actually growing relationships, rather than unintentionally keeping others at a distance because of our facade of perfection. Of course, there is nothing wrong with making a nice dinner and setting a pretty table. Some people really have fun in this area and find that their creativity can be expressed best in the kitchen. But if you don't fall into this category, you really don't need to feel like you have to be Martha Stewart to have people sit at your table and eat your food. Years from now, it's doubtful that people will remember what you fed them, but they'll remember the love that they felt in your home, and perhaps that your invitation was the springboard to a lasting friendship. And if cooking really scares you, you can always order pizza! Or have someone over for a cup of coffee or tea.

I think this is where the difference between entertaining and hospitality comes in. Although the two don't necessarily need to be mutually exclusive, entertaining seems to have more to do with impressing, while hospitality is about loving your neighbor. Entertaining is usually for your favorite people, or for acquaintances who you wouldn't mind entering your inner circle. Hospitality can include your favorite people, but if done in the spirit of Christian love, it will inevitably extend to strangers and people who, at first glance, may seem unlikely friends. People who might not smell very nice. People who require an extra amount of prayer for help in loving (and haven't we probably been that person for someone else?).

Romans12: 13 says to "...always be eager to practice hospitality" (NLT). As I seek to grow in this area, I look forward to a deepening of the community I am blessed to be a part of. But I also hope for an ever widening of that community, for a hospitality that includes those who have nothing to offer but their presence--and an opportunity for me to obey Jesus (Luke 14:12-14).

On Loving Immortals: A Challenge for a New Year

Last year we rang in the New Year with heavy hearts as we sat with a friend who had just lost his wife hours before--and tried to wrap our minds around the fact that she was really suddenly gone. As the clock changed to midnight, I remember the sadness and irony in her husband's voice as he looked up and said, "Well, Happy New Year."

And my heart was heavy not only for the loss of this friend's presence in our lives, but for the realization that I hadn't been as good a friend to her as I should have been. Our husbands knew each other from work and had become friends, and she had often mentioned wanting to spend more time together, just the two of us. I would agree and say, "Yeah, we should do that," but time would go by and I never made the effort. This may sound fairly typical. We've probably all said these things and never followed through. But once she was gone, there was an obvious finality; the thing I assumed I would have the chance to do someday was no longer a possibility. I couldn't go back and be a better friend. I couldn't listen to her tell me about the latest book she was reading, or walk through her back yard with her as she excitedly showed me what she had planted in her garden. She really wanted my friendship, but because I didn't automatically connect with her as easily as I did with other friends, I didn't pursue a deeper relationship with her. And I know I missed out.

It might sound like I'm being too hard on myself, but these are the kinds of things you think about after someone is gone. And even though these were painful thoughts to face, I am really thankful for what they produced in my heart.

With such a sad start to a new year, you might think that a shadow would have hung over it indefinitely. But, as I went into 2013 thinking about my friend, joy came as I resolved to love better. If we are friends on Facebook, you might remember these words I posted:

"I have always been a cautious person. A cautious driver. A cautious decision maker. But in 2013 I pray that I can be less cautious when it comes to loving and moving towards people. 

What will they think? Is this the right think to say/do? How do I be this person's friend when they are so different from me? Self, sometimes you just need to get over yourself.

When I'm thinking about someone, I should call them. When I see someone I know in the grocery store who I may not want to talk to, I should say hi, instead of ducking into the next aisle (come on, you know you've done it too). When I doubt whether or not it is "appropriate" to hug someone who is crying, I should just do it. 

Sometimes propriety needs to be thrown out the window. Sometimes loving means risking. Who cares about whether or not it may feel awkward. I want to go out on limbs this year. I want to embrace awkward. I want to be a little reckless. Because people are worth loving. And because looking back, it's not the "awkward" moments I'll regret. It's not the comfort-risking moments I'll regret. But I just might regret the safe ones. I don't have a laundry list of resolutions. I just want this--to love with abandon."

And you know what? I did go out on limbs this year. I did things I never would have thought to do without such a sobering commencement of 2013. I've made mistakes too, of course. I haven't always been as present in the moment with the ones I love as I ought to have been. But I think I loved more deliberately and with more risk than I ever had before. 

C.S. Lewis notes the following in The Weight of Glory:

There are no ordinary people.
You have never talked to a mere mortal.
Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat.
But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.
 
This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn.
We must play.

But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously—no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.

And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner—no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment.
Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.

As I think through specific goals that I would like to accomplish in 2014, I pray that love is the overarching motivation in all that I do. To really see people as Lewis proposes. To remember that each person is a glorious and unique creation of the Living God. That there are no mere mortals. And that I must not presume upon tomorrow, assuming the chance to love will come again.

There are neighbors to be met. There is family to improve in loving. There are co-workers to know better. There are inner circles that could be widened. Tables that could have strangers gathered 'round more often. Brief interactions, people we may never see again, whose lives we can make better in some small way.

Today. Today. Let us love deeply, today.