Affirmation

Affirmation, on the one hand, feels like a really namby-pamby, soft, needy word. On the other hand, my experience is that it can be a razor sharp blade that frees someone to be more of who they were made to be.

My deepest hurt, I've realized, about our current church is the lack of affirmation and the constant, relentless message that we are not doing enough, not doing what we are supposed to be doing. I've been grappling with this for some months now, and it feels good to be able to identify the pain, but also stunning to see it in black and white. Partly because the problem seems abusive. The beatings will continue until morale improves. But mostly because I believe in the vision and mission of the church and was so encouraged to find a community with such a heart. Additionally, I believe we are doing what we are supposed to be doing. I believe that we could, we should be affirmed.

To be honest, I don't know what to do about this. No community is perfect; I don't think we're looking for that. But I feel we are being ground under and I don't know what it would take to live free.

Hope deferred

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. ~Proverbs 13:12

We appear to be turning a significant household corner. Our son appears to be ready to sleep through the night and our daughter appears to be ready to wear regular underwear and use the toilet on her own. It's only been 3 days so far, but man are we ready for both of those breakthroughs.

We're a couple months shy of our 6th wedding anniversary and if I had to sum up year 6, at this point, I'd say grueling. We are so tired. We never thought either of these milestones could take so long for our kids.

At the same time, I think I have finally made peace with becoming a mom and have been able to enjoy the deep sweetness in it. The pleasure and satisfaction of parenthood is very difficult for me to express. I have never identified with and never liked what I considered to be saccharine, pastel renditions of mother-child relationships.

The best metaphor for a mom-moment is a memory I have of a summer in college when I worked in maintenance at a conference center. I had spent the whole day outside in the dust and dirt. I was tired and sticky. And somehow I got back to the showers first and had the whole place to myself. As the drops of hot water hit my arms, I was fascinated to watch little rivulets cut through the layer of grime.

That refreshment after a long day of physical labor is the best I can do to explain what it feels like today to see our children growing up and hitting milestones we have been hoping and praying for these past months.

Super Mom breaks a leg

At 4:45PM last Monday, I had homemade granola about to burn in the oven, a roast on the grill, a house that needed tidying for guests, a sticky almost-3 year old, and a fussy baby.

In a fit of SheerGenius(tm) while I had my son on the changing table I thought, "He's half undressed anyways, I should bathe the kids." And then in a moment of UtterStupidity(tm), I left him on the table to turn on the hot water.

In the interim, my daughter wet her underwear, and my son fell on the changing table and started screaming his head off.

Two days, many miles on the road, many interviews with nurses, doctors, social workers, a blood draw, urine sample and several dozen xrays later, my son's broken leg was in a cast and we were done with the "suspected non-accidental tauma" protocol.

I had a lot of time to review how we got to the fall. At the end of the day, I'd say it was 2 parts pride and 1 part selfishness.

I like having guests and I really like playing with meats on a grill. And then there's MyAgenda which includes baths for the kids on Mondays, making more granola when I run out like I had that morning--even though I certainly could have had something else for breakfast and could have made more another day, and having a basically presentable house by 6:30 on Mondays when friends come over for dinner or church small group.

I knew when I decided to do bath time right then, that I was trying to be Super Mom. For that matter, I knew when I started doing the granola that I was being a little crazier than I needed to be. But I wanted to be super. To have a list that I could show my husband, "See I do cool stuff with my day too!"

It's pretty devastating to realize that pride can literally come before a fall. Especially when the faller is your cute little boy who has no business bearing the brunt of your inner ugliness.

What is amazing, however, is that I don't have to live in mom guilt. My pastor likes to use the phrase "standing under the waterfall of grace". It's a pretty phrase, but it should be offensive too. The apostle Paul wrote, "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."

That means that even though I screwed up, and I really did screw up, Jesus is not holding a stick over me and I'm not either. I am receiving a forgiveness I don't deserve; it's both-and. I don't deserve it and I am receiving it. I hope that kind of ticks you off.

We're about half way through Lent, charging our way to Easter where Jesus dies for the wretchedly ungodly and buys freedom for prisoners who deserve their sentences.

Hallelujah!

Disciplined Helplessness

One of my favorite summertime memories from childhood is swimming lessons. The lessons followed a Red Cross curriculum, so in addition to learning strokes, we also learned water safety stuff.

One thing we did in every class was the survival or dead man's float. All you do is hold your breath and put your face in the water. The air in your lungs keeps you floating and you relax all your limbs to conserve energy while you wait for someone to rescue you.

One reason I stopped writing blog entries the past 10 weeks is that I've been relearning my spiritual dead man's float. Last fall was really rough and after months of telling my husband I wasn't depressed, I had to admit that I probably was.

Depression isn't a new thing for me. I'd say it's kind of like my right hip. At the tender age of 26 I had hip surgery to smooth out a cartilage tear. After almost a year of physical therapy, I'm generally out of pain, but it's a weak joint that requires extra attention.

At 25, I had a major bout of depression. After a lot of counseling, a year of antidepressants, exercise, sunlight, the whole nine yards, I've been generally ok, but it's a tendency I have and I have to be vigilant about it.

What I learned the first time and what I'm learning this time is what I call disciplined helplessness. When I find myself sucked down the toilet bowl of depression, I live in general helplessness. Life sucks and it will always suck.

Disciplined helplessness is different. I am tired; Jesus can give me strength. I am grouchy; Jesus knows and helps me to be gentle and kind. I don't know what to do; Jesus has wisdom for me. I am not enough; Jesus is sufficient.

The mental script is different and I have to fight for it to play louder than my general helplessness. The fight isn't an overcoming fight; I'm not trying to win. I'm not able to win. It's about consistently falling in the direction of Jesus. Falling into his hope, falling into his strength, falling into his love.

The spiritual dead man's float is about not thrashing in panic, but staying afloat, and waiting for Jesus's sure rescue.

That's ugly

Somehow in the awesomeness of Christmas, the part where Herod kills all the baby boys in Bethlehem has never really hit home with me,

¹⁶ When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi. ¹⁷Then what was said through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:

¹⁸ “A voice is heard in Ramah,
weeping and great mourning,
Rachel weeping for her children
and refusing to be comforted,
because they are no more.”

~The good news according to Matthew, chapter 2

My son is in the two-and-under age range and I know many families with young sons. I cannot fathom how devastating it would be for all of us to lose our sons on the basis of such a decree. Just the thought of it brings a deep ache.

When I first read this yesterday, I felt how can the loving gift of baby Jesus sit in the context of so much senseless death and weeping?

Our church community is in the midst of a venue change as we handle the needs of a numerical growth. At the same time, we have suffered the early passing of several members from disease.

It is very hard for me to accept goodness in the midst of death and suffering. I want good to be good and darkness to be absent. I want answers and I want justice.

And I don't get what I want.

So today, as I continue to process goodness and, let's call it what it is, evil, the only thing I can say is that sin is ugly. Evil is really evil. Herod was wrong. Disease is something God is going to banish when his ultimate victory and reign in the world come to be. Let that day come soon!

In the meantime, I realize that I tend to want to let sin slide. Or at least, the sin in my life. It's not that bad. But it is. It is a gross, disgusting affront to God when I am not kind and gentle with my children, when I don't watch what I say and what my tone is. And that's true no matter how tired I might be or how honestly annoying they are. Thank God, that he is bigger than my tongue and with his strength I can do differently.

A new Advent traditions?

This year we pretty much finished our serious Christmas shopping before Advent! Last year we were caught unawares, as if Christmas isn't December 25th every year, and were rushed and harried feeling. So we probably swung "too far" on the pendulum, but really, I like it a lot.

There are a few miscellaneous items we haven't picked up or boxed to send, but all the thinking is over. We've purchased or made things. We've used Amazon a lot which made shipping easier, and I really dislike browsing stores so avoiding that is good too.

While part of me enjoys the gift giving part itself, I really dislike the bombardment of messages to buy stuff for people. So with the shopping done, I can just ignore all the ads. Does not apply to me. I don''t need to wonder if so-and-so might REALLY like that whatsitmahoozer. Even if they did, too bad!!

And of course, being done before Advent means that I have more head space for other stuff. This week, it's been tending to two pretty sick kids. Grueling work. But they should be on the mend soon.

For the first time, we're putting up a Jesse Tree which is a Catholic tradition that I was not raised with. The Jesse Tree is a tree that is decorated with symbols recalling the fuller story of Christmas. It starts with God forming the universe and people, the break in relationships with people and the promise for full restoration, then it moves through major stories of the Old Testament before telling the New Testament story of Jesus birth. We're using a children's book by the same name and reading a story a day. I recycled our 2 ft tree from our apartment days, and we're making a felt ornament that corresponds with the symbol for the day. I'd much rather be doing this through Advent then worrying about what gifts to have for whom and how to get it to them.

So we'll see if we can make these new traditions: Christmas gifts in November, Jesse Tree decorating in December.

Crochet: learning something new

So I don't have any deep spiritual insights at the moment, I'm sort of in a "Jesus I'm desperate for you" funk.

But I've been having a lot of fun teaching myself to crochet. I started in November after spending many months thinking about getting my daughter slippers to keep her feet warm on the tile. But I didn't really want to spend money on that, and I saw a youtube video for crocheting maryjane slippers. I thought, "I can do that." So I bought a hook and took out some craft yarn I got on sale and voila! Slippers. However, Lil L being 2 means she often not only won't wear the slippers, she'll even pull off her socks. Oh, well.

I've gone on to making hats, baby booties, moccasins, a baby vest, and so on. It's been really fun to learn something new, but what I really like about it is having something to do with my hands while the kids play.

They have a mom-dar that beeps whenever I move out of range, like to the bathroom or the kitchen or the laundry room. Sometimes, I have to be in those spaces, but what they really like is for me to be in the living room while they play. I don't even have to play with them. I just need to be near. Crocheting is wonderfully portable. I have everything in a plastic shopping bag and can move from place to place.

It's also wonderful because it's pretty easy to stop and start. A couple times I've varnished or painted some furniture. These require multiple steps that are preferably done within a certain amount of time and away from small kids. That's really tough to do these days. With crochet, I can stop on a dime, drop everything back in the bag and do potty time or kiss a boo boo. Easy.

Another huge thing is that I'm making something. I have a bunch of yarn my aunt gave me when she heard I took up crocheting. I'm using it to make stuff for a baby in a family my small group is helping out this Christmas. Everything'll be yellow, but at least the baby will have something warm to wear. I'm already getting to the point where I can make my own designs and that's fun to think about. It's feels like magic going from a wad of yarn to a Thing. Love it.

If you'd like a hacked-together, crochetted something, leave a request in the comments.