Advent Favorite

First Coming
Madeleine L'Engle

God did not wait till the world was ready,
till...the nations were at peace.
God came when the heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

God did not wait for the perfect time.
God came when the need was deep and great.
God dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine. God did not wait

till hearts were pure. In joy God came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours of anguished shame
God came, and God's light would not go out.

God came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait til the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,

God came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!


The Emmaus Road has some other really nice poems for Advent up as well. :)

The art is from Creative Thursday...a blog that I really enjoy.

Wowzers...Santa Brings it out in People

I don't have a whole lot to share right now. I will report that the projects are getting clicked off the list in a timely manner.

If you are interested in conversations around Santa and how/if to communicate him to your kids, head over to The Paris Project or Peacebang. Both can be found as links on the left.

At three, Santa isn't a huge force in our family. BB doesn't want to meet him and isn't completely sure about him. I think in coming years we will focus a bit more heavily on St. Nicholas and the man behind 'The Man', so to speak....oh, and Jesus. We'll focus on him as well.

I will share that the one time I shared my family's (me and husband) take on this with friends, I was met with surprising passion on the topic of how it "should" be done. To me it has always been just a cute part of the larger season.

And because, once I get going, I can't stop, I will add: as I listen to people talk about Santa, I am struck by how often it is a threat..."You better....because Santa is watching." "Santa only brings toys to good girls and boys." BLECH. It does strike me as being completely opposite to "God born as one of us to free us from sin, and to know our pain."


In other news, I just stumbled across this blog, Design Sponge...what fun projects! I like the scarves.

Scenes from the Nativity

On this Second Sunday in Advent I wanted to share some of our nativities. Only one of them has a real story...but after taking them out each year, they each have a place in my heart.


This one, while a bit ubiquitous these days, is perhaps, my favorite. My parents gave it to us for our first Christmas. I like the simplicity of it.


This one came from my trip to Palestine.


This one was a wedding gift from my husband's Aunt and Uncle. It, too, is from Palestine.


This one belongs to the kids. It is out all year long. The animals take turns in the barn as well as the manger.


This one is from my Grandma. For thirty-three Christmases she gave me a silver bell like the one in the first photo. We have a gorgeous tree! When it came time to stop that tradition, she began to give me pieces for this Nativity. We have three kings as well, but they won't appear until January 6...Epiphany.

Then, there is this one. It makes me smile and brings tears to my eyes each year. It was made for me by a confirmation student. It was a total surprise...both that he gave me a Christmas gift and that the gift was a handmade Nativity. He was a slightly heavy, smart, sensitive junior high boy who grew up with parents who did not have the gifts to be supportive of his intelligence, interests or sensitivity. His family struggled with finances. They struggled with their faith as well.

So did their son.

It was a class made up of four boys. They were in 7th grade, none of them wanted to be at church after school each Wednesday but three of them grew up and participated in, the life of the small, rural congregation, so it home to them.

We'll call him Joel. Joel's parents, while themselves either against, or apathetic towards the church, forced him to attend Confirmation. And, so with these confusing messages, Joel rebelled a bit in class. He claimed not to believe in much, he once told me he was just there "studying the Christians."

So, much to my surprise this Nativity showed up one Christmas. I don't know why he made it. But I can't help but imagine that God was involved. What even gave him the idea? What went on in him as he designed, cut out, wood burned and then carefully penciled in the names of each person? I can only pray, trust and believe Joel grew in faith.

Oh, friends, he was so proud as he gave it to me. If you have ever been present as the veneer and bravado on a junior high boy comes down, you know the look on his face. His giggy joy and pride was hard for him to hide. I remember trying to share in his joy without embarassing him by crying or getting too emotional...not an easy feat. We lost contact after he was Confirmed. He is among one of many kids from that Call that I pray for...hoping that temptations didn't get the best of them and that God's grace grants them strength to grow into the full person God created them to be.

This Nativity...this one, this one is the only one that truly allows me a glimpse of the incarnation. God with us. God for us. God as us.

Advent Blessings.

Little Elves Came to Help

From the chapter of my life titled, You Can No Longer Do It All, comes this little story about my Christmas cards.

I've made our cards each year. I usually had a goal of getting them to people around the first Sunday in Advent. We have a Christmas card list just over one hundred people. I have high expectations for myself.

All of the above information becomes a stumbling block when you add an infant and a newly minted three year old and my current energy level.

So, going into this year, I tried to come up with easy cards with limited steps involved. But with limited hours for my Card Muse to work, I ended up with 5 step-cards that I wasn't totally in love with/inspired by. So, I put them off. And, off. And, off.

On the first Sunday of Advent my parents and Grandmother were here to celebrate our son's birthday. They became my Christmas Elves.

In matter of hours we folded cards, stamped a blue background, cut out green squares, stamped trees, stamped greetings, punched stars and glued them on.

It would never have happened without them. The best part is, their gift didn't just get the cards done, it jump started my Advent energy level. For me sometimes, when there is so much to do, it becomes easier to do nothing...but once the cards were completed and lined up so carefully by my Grandma on our dining room table, a weight lifted and the rest of the holiday list just started to fly.

Thanks, Elves! Love you so much.

Birthday Cake #3

Giving Thanks.

Our Thanksgiving day plans took a turn yesterday when BB spent the night spiking a fever that his sister had shared with him. We decided not to infect the entire clan and opted to stay home today.

Blessedly the kiddos slept until 7am and we managed to keep everyone quiet until 8am. After three nights of literally no more than three hours of sleep for me, I was thankful. I made pancakes, eggs and bacon for breakfast and we watched parts of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. (Which has annoyingly become one big commercial for NBC and its sponsors...)
My husband had work to finish up before next week so after breakfast he headed to the office.

The kids and I headed to the park on what was, a gorgeous, sunny day. As BB ran around I thought about the day.

Truthfully, I wasn't horribly upset to miss the travel, family meal and stay over. We will see everyone tomorrow for a one day visit...it will be good to catch up and see the cousins and family we see only once a year. But I was thankful for a day of rest.

Thankful that the kids slept, yes, but also grateful I allowed myself a day off. Because it was a holiday and I figured everyone else was 'off' I felt ok skipping chores and projects. The store were closed so I couldn't "run errands" to keep busy.

Not only did I take the day off, the kids on the mend from illness slept,...for hours.

For the kid who loves her formal holidays ...tables set with china and the finest serving pieces, decorations all around the house, guests dressed up, best manners on display, abundance of food...I was so content to throw on my baseball cap and sit on a bench at the park.

It isn't a tradition I hope to carry out every year, but for this year...at this time...I was thankful for it.

What's Lefse?

Answer.

Thanksgiving Free-for-All

What are you giving thanks for this year? I'd love to read about it...so jot a note in the comments when you get a chance.

I also put up a poll about favorite Thanksgiving foods...please, VOTE and then feel free to add more comments...I'd love hear what is on your Thanksgiving table or what you'll miss because you will be away from home or your regular traditions.

Another Monday...

I woke up EG around 10pm to feed her. She quickly became a vomiting baby in my arms and I had the first 'mom moment' of holding vomit. Blech. Thankfully it was a one time occurrence. But she wanted to be held most of the night, so I woke up refreshed and ready for the day at 2am, 3:30am and 5am.

BB woke up with potty training amnesia. Adding to this charm, he has a new phrase, he yells "Hey!" whenever he wants your attention or to tell you something. It is rude, annoying and rockets me 12 years forward to when I have a 15 yr old towering over me.

Now at 10:17am I think we have restored some calm. He is singing to himself in the other room and EG is asleep in her bed. Anything I had hoped to get done today is off my list.

We had a good weekend. A trip to Chicago to see the Shedd "fishies." A nice drive, more Chipotle, good to be out together...

The cutest moment was in the shark area. My husband had EG in a front pack and was kneeling down by BB as the sharks swam by. Every once in a while BB would step right up to the window and then with each progressive shark he'd step back just a bit. He cuddled up next to his dad, who put his arm around him and absentmindedly rubbed BB's arm as he pointed to fish. At one point we looked down at and BB who was rubbing his sister's hand and whispering to her, "It's ok. It's ok...aren't the fish pretty..."

I was sad we had to skip the Michigan Ave lighting party (or whatever it is called..) but I preached on Sunday am. I preached on seeing Christ in others...let me tell you preaching that from the pulpit is completely different from living it in the lines at Target and Cub Foods. I won't be going to Target on the weekends for another month or so.

Those of you who read this blog know my fascination with grocery store demographics. Sunday, it was "Dad and Multiple kids" day at Cub foods. I saw about 8 dads with at least 3 kids each...some had up to 6. Never in all my life will I look upon grocery shopping as quality family time. More power to them. (They probably came home with stories about the crazy, bleary eyed pastor who talked to herself throughout the aisles...)

We are off to get medicine and coffee. (why don't more business' have drive up windows!)
Hope all is well with you!

Good Weekend

Slept in.
Limited amount of pee and poo.
Pancakes, eggs and bacon.
A trip to a Children's Museum and Chipotle burritos.
Drive time to talk in the car.
Goofing around on facebook with husband...
Game Night with some emerging friends.

Good things.

Now it is Monday...

Must. Get. Organized.

Yay, God.

Last week I sent a note of compliment to a woman who is basically a stranger to me. She did a nice job on something and I wanted to affirm her passion and her gifts.

She responded to my note with one that I will characterize as a "Yay, God." note. In response to my two sentence note, she took two paragraphs to glorified God and sang praises about the marvelous ways God uses her. She explained to me that she is just the vessel for God's work and then went on to share the various way God molded her that day.

I have mixed thoughts on, "Yay, God" notes and comments in day to day conversation. I want to chalk it up to a difference in style, we upper Midwest Lutherans just don't brag about anything that much, even God is expected to keep a low profile. But I wonder what I'm bumping up against isn't substance as well.

I wanted to write back and tell her that it was ok to take some credit. That God would be ok with her simply saying, "Thanks. I really enjoyed it." or "Thanks, I worked hard on it." or "Thanks, I enjoy proclaiming God's work in our lives." or simply, "Thanks."

Instead of my note being a means to connect with her and offer support and appreciation for her contribution, I feel as if I got 'out God-ed.' As if our faith life was another form of 'keeping up with the Jones'.'

Dry. Drier. Driest. Day 15

Well, I am pleased to announce a dry weekend. Light at the end of tunnel...
Yay!!! Way to Go.... ME!!!

Tis the Season

On my to do list:

Make 100 Christmas cards
Make 10 or less gifts
Purchase gifts for one side of family....Thanksgiving deadline.
Get my family on board with gift exchange...explain meaning of Christmas to joker brother.
Purchase said gifts once we have a plan.
Knit 5 hats.
Plan birthday part for Big Boy...Three Years!!!
"I want a tractor theme, no a farm theme, humm, maybe a butterfly theme, no, I want the baseball cake like last year."

Hey, Mom maybe you and Grandma should come here for the week. :)

Ah, a Movie Commercial.

Wait. What was that on my TV screen? Oh, yes...I remember, a movie commercial. The equally annoying and ubiquitous self promotion vehicle that was on TV and radio before the election. It seems like two years since I saw one.

Life is back to normal around here. For me that means potty training. Just now as I sat, smooshed on a small stool in our equally small (seemingly ever shrinking) bathroom, it hit me that there is a correlation between President-elect Obama's term and potty training.

Yes, I really am going to try to put these together.

Potty training hit some rough patches for us for two reasons. First, I hadn't fully realized that Big Boy was in charge. There is no incentive plan, no diversion tactics, no punishment, no-nothing that can get him to do what he needed to do. So, when I realized the full weight of his power, I just gave up. I regrouped. Stepped back. Cooled off.

The second mistake was thinking that if he had all the power, I had no part in the process. I committed to the process in a very hands off manner. "If you need to go...you know where the bathroom is. Keep your pants dry. Go in when you need to." I'd ask him if he needed to go when I thought he probably would and then accepted his, "I don't have to." Only to have him pee 5 minutes later in the living room, car, bedroom or a combination of all three.

So, now I have committed myself to the process. When I think he has to go, we go. We both stop what we are doing. It will be a learning curve. We both need to create some muscle memory.

How did my mind connect a presidential term to potty training? Oh, yeah, I need to get there, right?

If the election did anything, it awakened the American citizens to the process. President-elect Obama will be the President. The House and Senate will be controlled by a majority of one party. But, we, the citizens of this country must step up and remain focused creating the country we want. We must remain engaged. Each of us. All of us. You. Me. The passion, money and interest the campaign process produced, must be harnessed and redirected. Everyone's voice is needed. The crazy ones I just don't understand, and the ones that resonate with me that I cry as I hear them.

For those who don't like the policies that a President Obama administration may bring, no one is stopping you from writing, calling, bugging, protesting, writing, calling, protesting, volunteering, sending money so that your voice is apart of the process. Sitting back and being passive aggressive won't help anyone. It certainly won't help you and what you believe in. To those of us who are filled with giddy anticipation, we can not sit back and just let the elected officials do all the work. Our ideas are needed as well. We, too, must write, give money, volunteer, bug, and protest so that our unique voices are at least a small part of the mix.

And we must come together. Somehow space must be made to hear each other and move beyond what was. I suggest we all gather in small spaces and share M and M's.

We can not continue to accept a government like we've had. But on top of that, we can not accept the divisiveness or the apathy we all were lulled into accepting. Movie commercials are back, but we've got a reality calling us to action.

With that, eh, hem, out of my system, I am stepping off my soap box ala bathroom stool, and heading to the movies with some friends tonight. (Come on friends, there were worse puns I could have made.)

Check out the new website for President elect
change.gov

*SO*, What's Going on in Your Congregation?

A new segment we'll call, Wednesday Weird Church News:

First up, Stealing Jesus....
then, Seven Days of Sex...



And for my friend you likes church signs (bloopers and real ones)...

I Was There.

Grant Park Chicago, IL November 4, 2008

Yesterday, I dressed my kids in red, white and blue and we headed off to vote. We stood in line for over an hour, chatting with those around us and enjoying people watching at its best.

I cast my ballot for Sen. Barak Obama and walked out of the polling place with anticipation. As I schlepped the kids into the car, I pulled out one of my favorite phrases from West Wing. "It is really something, every four years we get to overthrow the government." It is a privilege that should be met with long lines and eager, passionate citizens. Election day should be, I think, a national holiday.

And it was for us. With a dash of American capitalism thrown in to the patriotic mix, we headed to Krispy Kreme and Starbucks for our free donuts and coffee. Then we were off to the park to run and play.

After nap time, my husband arrived home early so I could drive like a mad woman to Chicago.

After a drive there and then a drive downtown with my brother and sister in law, we entered the sea of humanity. The next few hours are a bit of a blur.

What I remember is how calm everyone was. Sure there were people running around with cell phones attached to their ears. People were cheering and the t-shirt vendors were offering their wares. But, it was controlled. Even as we merged into the ticketed line into Grant Park...we chatted with each other and jockeyed for position with respect and a controlled measure of civility. It was so unexpected.




The video was taken once we were actually in Grant Park. The place we set up camp was far, far away from the stage, but thanks to jumbo tron TV we could see CNN and the speeches that came after California was called.



You make friends when you are smooshed together with people, and last night was no exception. The faces and comments of the people around us in the crowd are still with me. The ones I enjoyed, and the ones I would have rather moved away from. We weren't always nice, nor did we always model what we were preaching as supporters of Barak Obama and the Democratic Party. We were human. Excited, hopeful, overwhelmed, joyous, arrogant, rude, prejudiced...human.

It was a good night. It was a turning point in our American story. It also served to close the book on four, if not, eight years of my own frustration. Some of this reflection is deeply personal as I use this moment to bookmark the past eight years of my own life.

As the flags flapped in the breeze above us and the marvelous words floated out over the crowds, I thought of my Grandpa who would have loved this night. A man so sweet and caring, so focused on doing well by people and giving everyone a chance. I saw his brown eyes tear up as he took my Grandma's hand in hope for what might be.

I thought of Carole, who had her own fight going on this year, but remained a passionate supporter of Sen. Clinton. She didn't live to see the first female president, but she would have been so happy with the turn our country took.

I thought of the wine my friend and I consumed in grief over previous elections. (for her wonderful perspective click the link.)

I thought of the spring we were in Duluth with our friends as the War in Iraq began. The barrage of TV coverage we tried to shield my friends' kids from while we ourselves were unable to look away.

I thought of the countless times I had listened to the news and then turned to my children...wanting to apologize for what their future may look like. Sad that this was time in which they were living.

I held in my heart all the negative comments I have read on the internet in the past two years. The anonymous comments filled with fear and hate. The vile, most ugly part of our society spewing out. I was also mindful of my friends and family who were not as excited as me by the election. Those who feel a bit on the outside now...wondering what the world will look like.

I was not as free and giddy as some of my younger crowd-mates. I held on to all of this. As the night went on I realized how heavy it was, and I decided to let some of it go. It is time to move on.

Not just because of who won the election, but because it is time.

It is too easy to chalk it up to a night where 'we' won and 'those' people lost. I was mindful that as a Christian, I believe we are at our best when we are striving to serve something bigger than ourselves. It is what I hope for government--that we are meant to find our common goals and pursuits. I believe that we can do this, at least we can give it our all. Yes. We. Can.

All Saints Day

Sermon Nov. 2, 2003 All Saints Sunday
Revelation 21: 1-6a John 11:32-44

Almighty God, whose people are knit together in one holy Church, the body of Christ our Lord….

What a hopeful opening to a prayer on, what is perhaps one of the more hopeful days in the Church year.

All Saints Sunday gives us a chance to dwell deeply in our belief that because Christ lives, so will we. Because Christ lives, so will our loved ones and through Christ we remain connected, united in one body. Today we remember not only the past and what has happened--the memories which may include, sickness, death, pain and loss….we also give thanks for the lives that have surrounded us. And, we look for our own future.

Many of those around us live in a world seems so hopeless, there is so much depair. They long for the day where there tears have been wiped away and pain and suffering will have passed away. So many live as if God has abandoned them---that they are alone to face the sin and evil of this world. Perhaps that is why today fills me with hope. It reminds me that, there is hope, and this is it:

God cares so deeply and profoundly that God in Christ Jesus, wept at the death of his friend and at the pain of humanity. God in Christ Jesus lives to make us live. You and I and with the whole Christian Church, trust that that our new life, is not only to come, but that it has come. In Christ we know not only the beginning of the new creation, but the completion of it as well—Christ the Alpha and the Omega—our beginning and our end—is light to dark world.

We have this to share---that with each splash of water and each meal of bread and wine, we are being made a part of God’s new creation, the real hope comes not just because they made us whole, but because it is our baptism and the communion meal that joins us with the saints---with them, we see and we are apart of God’s banquet feast. Yes, today feels most hopeful…..not just because we catch a glimpse of our future or even that we are united with the new creation, but we see in the Light of Christ, a glimmer of our purpose right here and now.

Robert Fulgham writes how he once asked the founder of a philosophical institute on the island of Crete an earnest question during the final session of a two-week seminar. “Dr. Paderos, what is the meaning of life? Fulghum asked. The other members of the seminar laughed, but the speaker seemed to take the question seriously.

Dr. Paderos pulled out a small piece of mirror from inside his billfold. He explained that he had been carrying the fragment since the day he found it on a road as a child during the war. It was a piece of a German motorcycle that had been wrecked. By scratching the fragment on a stone he had made the edges round and smooth.

Paderos explained how he played with the mirror when he was young. He became fascinated by the way he could reflect light into dark places that the sun could never touch. He would maneuver it so that the light would shine in old building and deserted houses. As he sat by a pond, he’d cast the light into the shadowy forest. The mirror entertained him for hours and something about it kept him company…it was always in his pocket. As he grew older Papaderos said he began to understand that what he had been doing was a kind of metaphor for the way he ought to live his life.

“I am not the light,” The philosopher declared to the seminar members. “I don’t contain the light,” he said. “Rather, I am simply a fragment of a mirror who is capable of reflecting light into certain dark places of this world where light might not otherwise shine. This is what I am about.”

Then holding that little fragment of glass at the right tilt and angle, Papaderos reflected light on Fulghum’s face and said, “This is the meeting of my life.”

It occurs to me that what God does in this world of ours is most often done through people whose tilt and angle of life is capable of reflecting God’s light. Their greatness isn’t measured by worldly fortune or, fleeting fame, or even the length of their life. Rather, their distinction is measured in the hearts of others who simply hold them dear for the difference they have made and the model they have provided. They are people who have made the experience of life a little bit brighter and a little bit better than it otherwise would have been without them. Through special ones such as these, our lives have been enhanced. Through them, and their life and death, God has given us a glimpse of the world to come.

You and I are apart of this mirror as well, we are just fragments, but our lives were given to us to shine the light of Christ into the darkness of this world. How we do it is an varied and unique as the lives we remember and celebrate today…

Today, as you light a candle and come forward to the font, I hope you catch a glimpse of the body of Christ which surrounds you--elbow to elbow--today in this congregation. As you light a candle in memory of a loved one or in celebration of a new saint, I hope you catch a glimpse of your own life reflected in the flicker of the flame or in the sparkle of baptismal water. It is what we are called to be—reflections of the Greatest Light, God’s light in Christ, shining for the whole world to know the promise, that because, Christ lives, we too, live.

I'll be out in a minute... (Day Five)

but for right now, I've got nothing to say.

Day Two

Words for Day Two...

Ego. Mine.
Chaos.
Tears. His.
Early Nap.
Regroup. Me.
Dry afternoon.

A new day comes tomorrow.

Potty Party--Day One

Today by the numbers...

10-times he told me, "I can do it by myself. Don't you help me."
9-times the toilet was flushed for no good reason.
8-stickers that went on to the Party Potty poster.
7-times he asked to change underwear--"Just because I want to wear the..." firetrucks, puppies, train ones, etc.
6-wet underwear changes.
5-photos we took of him in big boy underwear.
4-cups of juice I plied him with.
3-hours he slept at nap time. (apparently this is stressful and tiring...for us both.)
2-puddles of pee I stepped in, not knowing they were there.
1-long day.

Random

Big boy is trying to figure out where Threesday goes in the week. (Monday, TWOsday, etc...)

He also learned today the God made sun, trees, and the rain. When I asked him what else God made, and prompted, "Animals?"

"Nooooo...silly Mom. God didn't make horses, the other god did."

He went on to explain that one God made cows, the other one made horses and the other-other one made chickens.

Proving that theology, too, is a work in progress.

Benefits of Keeping it Special

"What we doing today, Mom?"
"Cleaning."
"What can I clean?"
"You can dust the shelves and the bench."
With absolute glee and a little jump..."Ok, Mom!!"

We both go to work dusting. He takes things off the shelves and dusts, then carefully returns them. He gets out a broom to help sweep. He runs frantically to his room when the vacuum comes out.
"What else can I clean?"
"Well, how about you clean up your kitchen?"
"Oh. Good idea." And another little jump and a spin. (Where did that phrase come from?)

We are in complete joy around here. Productive. Happy. Listening, and coming up with phrases such as, "Thanks." "I will do that." "Yes." "Sure." "How fun."

Three or four months ago he was officially, and consistently, given the 'big boy job' of clearing his dishes from the table after he ate. When he first got to do this task he exhibited the same joy as I mention above. Today, months later this job is no longer fun. It has become a chore and something he needs to be pushed to accomplish at least once a day.

See, there are benefits to only cleaning the house once or twice a week. :)

The Most Important?

Come with me as I wonder around here a bit...

Every time I hear the phrase, "Being a mother is the most important job you'll ever do..." some warning siren goes off in me. It isn't the one that is meant to send me screaming from the room in sheer disagreement nor is it the one that encourages me to speak up and fight. It is more of a gentle, "Pay attention...something isn't quite true for you. You may need to clarify some points." Does the siren alarm for you?

I understand the comment in terms of taking motherhood seriously. It isn't a passing hobby or a fashion accessory. I understand encouraging each other in this role of mother. I even, kind of, understand the movement to "professionalize" motherhood.

Is it really more important than serving the poor? More important than sitting with a grieving family? More important than proclaiming the gospel? More important than caring for our friends? More important than my relationship with my husband? More important than using the gifts God has given me?

But in a recent conversation, what I was getting at, is my frustration to have my voice heard and to use my gifts to stand up in the world.

I take parenting seriously because I want to raise up productive, polite, kind, compassionate, aware kids. We, their parents, are their first resource to help discover their gifts and blessings for this world. This is a part of my calling here on earth.

But the life they create will be their life. My entire voice cannot be given over to just raising them up...because then where have I gone? What good are my own particular gifts and blessings? We grant fathers a space for both in the world, why not women? I don't know that I have ever heard someone tell a dad, "raising your kids is the most important work you'll ever do."

Perhaps, this is just part of a larger frustration with mother's groups. We gather because we are mothers, but it often seems that is the only arena of our lives we wish to make a connection in. I assume we have more to ourselves than just our kids and I would love to hear just a little more about it. I think giving voice to our whole selves would only serve to strengthen our self as, 'mother.'

This morning, as I sip my tea, part of my righteous anger is the silencing effect, the statement, "Motherhood is the most important thing you'll do," has on us. What sirens are going off in you today?


10/23/08 Update: The Paris Project today has a entry that adds to this and the message I was addressing. Dobson on Palin and mothering.

Changing Seasons...when the leaves are staying put

My friend over at The Emmaus Road writes about the changing seasons in her garden. She is ready for a change. As she writes she sticks to the garden, but it got me thinking about the changing season in our lives.

For as far back as I can remember I have been waiting for the next season of my life to begin. For school to start, then summer to come, then school to start...this particular pattern went on until I was 29 or so. When will the snow come? When is the next race? When can I get my ears pierced? When can I wear makeup? When can I drive? When can I vote? When can I drink? When can move away? When can I make my own decisions... How long will we live here? How about here? Here? When to get married? When to have a baby? The next one? When to stop having babies? When to move calls? When to take a new call?

We seem to be in a new season for me. It is called; Staying Put.


I have no idea how to do this.

Getting to Know Me...

Here are two versions of the mass email titled,
"Getting to Know Your Friends and Family."
I am suppose to have fun and be truthful...you decide.

What is your occupation right now? Mom, Pastor and Volunteer
What color are your socks right now? I have bare feet. I rarely wear socks.
What are you listening to right now? My husband is reading "The Seven Postmen" to Big Boy.
What was the last thing you ate? Broccoli, cheese and ham soup.
Can you drive a stick shift? Yes.
Last person you spoke with on the phone? The person who answered the doctor's after hours call service.
Do you like the person who sent this to you? Yes.
How old are you today? 36
What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? No strong feelings on this topic.
What is your favorite drink? If I was told I could only drink one thing for the rest of my life, I would pick iced tea with lots of lemon. Other favorites are tea, coffee, sangria, wine
Have you ever dyed your hair? No.
Favorite food? Pizza.
What is the last movie you watch? Can not remember or retain information that far back.
Favorite day of the year? My kid's birthdays.
How do you vent anger? Yell, slam things, swear, mutter under my breath...healthy stuff.
What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbies.
What is your favorite season? Fall, then Winter.
Cherries or blueberries? Both. Neither are my favorites.
Living arrangements? I have a home. A person I married and children I gave birth to, live there as well.
When was the last time you cried? Yesterday.
What is on the floor or your closet? Dust. Shopping bags. Shoe boxes.
What did you do last night? Went to bed and curled up hoping to feel better in the morning.
Favorite dog breed? Great Danes.
Favorite day of the week? Friday.
How many states have you lived in? (By 'lived in' I read, 'received mail at an address') MN, ND, GA, ID, WV, IL
Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds.
What is your favorite flower? Hydrangeas or tulips.

Here's the second "Getting to Know You..."
Were you named after anyone? I don't think so. I share a middle name with my Mom and Grandma.
When was the last time you cried? (Hot topic) Yesterday.
Do you like your handwriting? No.
What is your favorite lunch meat? ahhhh...when pressed I will say, ham.
Do you have kids? Yes.
If you were another person would be friends with you? Yes.
Do use sarcasm a lot? Me? Never?!
Do you still have your tonsils? I think so.
Would you bungee jump? No.
What is your favorite cereal? Honeynut Cheerios.
Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? No.
Do you think you are strong? Incredibly.
What is your favorite ice cream? Chocolate.
What is the first thing you notice about people? Their hair and body language.
Red or Pink? Red. (but really neither.)
What is the least favorite thing about yourself? I care too much about what others will think.
Who do you miss the most? My soul mate friends, CT and my family.
What color shoes are you wearing? (again with the foot wear...) I am barefooted.
What was the last thing you ate? (again...) soup. For exact type see above.
What are you listening to? My husband snoring in Big Boy's room.
If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Eggplant. (is that a crayon color or a sweater color at J. Crew?)
Favorite smells? Lemon. Grapefruit. Sunshine. Freshly cut grass. Bonfire smoke.
Hair color? Brownish red.
Eye color? Hazel.
Do you wear contacts? Nope.
Scary movies or happy endings? Must always have a happy ending.
Favorite desert? Creme brule
What books are you reading? Everything Must Change, Blessed to Follow, The Bible (sermon prep)
What did you watch on TV last night? Nothing. (Now during nap time I watched Desperate Housewives online.)
Rolling Stones or Beatles? They are bands, right?
What is the farthest you have been from home? Israel....Peoria. Real distance, and then metaphorical distance.
Do you have a special talent? I can climb hills very fast on skies.
Where were you born? Edina, MN

Weekend Update

If you've been looking for me, and haven't found me or heard from me...I'm sick.

Not sick enough to stop blogging, mind you. Not sick enough to stay in bed. Just sick enough to feel depressed over the week to come. Another week where I had hoped to get organized and have some fun and productivity, will pass me by, and will instead be dedicated to getting us all healthy and just making it through.

I'll see you on the other side of Sickness Week. Coming up next is Potty Training Week. (Yes, it is marked on our calendars as such.) I'll be sure to report back on the preparations of that momentous week.


In other news, my prayers and thoughts are with some friends who just welcomed a new baby into their family. I wish them blessing upon blessing as they discover and adjust to this new life among them.

Peace to you.

Job Security

Over the last eight years I have had poor attendance in regards to my dental care. I have been twice. Once for them to tell me my gums needed a major cleaning and then to have that procedure done.

Today, after a three year absence, I returned to the dentist for an evaluation. It involved an X-ray, checking of my gums and a consult with the dentist over what will need to be done.

When the nurses, hygienists and techs see my records, and hear that I am a negligent patient, they can not hide their glee in their step or conceal the sense of power and superiority in their eyes. "Oh...she's going to be fun. We can really "teach" her about oral health care. Ask her about flossing...maybe, she doesn't know how to brush."

I don't know why I have such a negative attitude about dentists...well, I do know. For some reason my childhood dentist really felt shame was the way to get kids to brush their teeth. I am always suspicion of people who think you can shame others into a good relationship. ( This goes for dentists who tell you how bad your brushing is and make you feel guilty and Pastors who "welcome" you to worship by pointing how often you've been gone.) He also lived with a false notion that cavities were always your fault verses, say, genetics and a predisposition for them. Anyway, I can work this out in therapy later...let's just it leave there and say, I don't really trust dentists.

So, with this open mind and heart, I entered the office. The hygienist assigned to my gum check-up was very snippy and just a little bit on a power trip about what she'd find in my mouth. "My goodness, you really should come in more often. Let's see how bad it is in there..." Lots of sighing and "hand me the number blah, blah tool" later...she got to it. (after she adjusted the light and chair fourteen hundred times.)

Imagine my glee as she called out the numbers for my gum check (you don't want anything over a three) "Three, two, three, two, two, two, two, three..." I could hear the helium being sucked from her attitude with each passing 'two.'

HA!!! Vindication. Sonocare toothbrush to the rescue. (I don't floss. I tell them I do, but I don't--it is all the work of my wonder toothbrush.) No cavities. My teeth and gums are in better shape than three years ago. Double, HA!

Then, I waited to see the doctor to confirm all this information. My watch stopped sometime during this wait so I didn't really realize how long I was waiting--that and let's be honest, I was alone in a quiet room, reclining and looking out the window--waiting really wasn't a problem.

Apparently, I waited longer than they wanted me to and, they have learned something about customer care. As I was leaving, I was given two $5 gift certificates to say "sorry" and "please, let us do this again soon."

You tell me, am I being cynical, or is this an odd gift:

They gave me one gift card to DQ and one to Cold Stone Creamery. My dentist. Ice cream.

Can we say, job security? Or, is it a sense of humor? Or, have I found a dentist that trusts my ability to brush?

Come Back...

Calling all hormones: whomever was responsible for keeping my hair in my head, my eyelashes thick, and my skin clear....please, come back. Your presence in my life was most welcome, and I miss you.




However,

if pregnancy is the only way to that goal...disregard this invitation entirely.

MINE!

As day breaks here, a new chapter unfolds...it shall be titled, "MINE! How to come to grips with the fact you are not the center of the universe."

EG can crawl. It started a week ago. This is what she has been waiting for her whole life. Since she was a little bitty zygote, the girl wanted to move, and up until now her body has been a major source of frustration for her. I WANT TO MOVE, has been her mantra. And now she can.

Her brother, who was just beginning to think that we brought her into the family to be his personal fan base, is not pleased. He spent his day yesterday running around like a crazed chicken trying to keep all the boxes, toys and paper towel rolls (that are used to make any number of imaginary things) out of her hands. "No, no, siser. No, no."

And of course, every toy became his. Her rattle, became a bicycle that he just HAD to have for his city. The toy phone, abandoned months ago for the much cooler cordless model, was a necessity for his communication. After a long heart to heart with Dad in the bedroom, Big Boy did hand over the rattle.

Briefly.

It was a long day and I anticipate it to be a long learning curve. As I look around the world, I realize some of us spend our whole lives learning these lessons. So, perhaps I should cut the kid some slack.

What I Said...

As I thought about today I knew we would hear about Carole’s professional life and the impact her passion, intelligence and tenacity left on the world of faculty development and family medicine. But I, along with the Second Generation of Camp Tummy and my fellow godbrothers and sisters, also wanted to give thanks for the role she had in raising us, inspiring us, and challenging us to be the best version of ourselves. I don’t speak for every one of Carole’s ‘kids’ but I do bring observations from a few of us. Those, that I spoke with often used the word ‘mother’ as they tried to bring words to the depth of our feelings…with that in mind, we are still a bit raw, numb as we try to figure a world without Carole…it is the smallest of things that makes us think of her…chocolate milk or the frozen food aisle in the grocery store, a watch or item of clothing she picked out for us, her email address and the many things we want to forward to her, her voice or smile just comes back to us…here is just some of what we are thankful for…

It seemed we spent a lot of time just watching her. From the time we were little, she was someone we just wanted to be near…to listen to as she led the charge on some topic we didn’t even understand, or watch her body language as she attentively listened to others. My sister has vivid memories of sitting in Carole and Dick’s bathroom near the sinks, watching Carole putting on lotion after lotion and make up…alternating between swigs of Diet Coke and spoonfuls of bran. My earliest memory is brushing her long, long hair…over and over she would sit as I combed and fittled and fussed. As I grew up I could have sat for hours and watched as she and the other women of Camp Tummy got ready in the mornings…they graciously let me enter the mysterious grown up realm of being a woman…as they slathered and curled, supported and pushed, laughed and cried…I listened and absorbed.

What I learned, what each of us learned, as we cuddled up near her or sat across the table, or joined in a board game was: how to be a friend…how to be gracious…that rules shouldn’t stop a good time…that asking ‘Why?’ is ok and should be expected….that assertiveness is not a bad thing when done kindly…how to take care of yourself and not apologize for it….to be genuinely nice, even in the face of pressure and disagreement...to speak your mind and to never get settled or comfortable with your knowledge basis---there is always more to learn and discover.

Of course we wanted to be near her because she granted us the one thing every kid craves growing up…to be treated as an adult. I don’t think it is any secret that babies (at least before she began to have Grand God Children and the third generation of CT came along) babies eluded Carole, in fact when Sarah and Josh and Chad and I each had our second child she was genuinely, deeply concerned for how we could possibly manage two young children, I was thankful for her concern but assured her that it had been done before…it was her way of taking care of us, reminding us to make ourselves a priority. No, she hit her real stride in influencing our lives when we hit 15 or so—from then on she and Dick generously took us in to live with them whether it be during a summer internship or the college years….she took us in and she took us on with gusto...

Perhaps more gusto than we might be ready for…many of us wrote or shared stories of being on the ‘hot seat’ when it came to Carole’s passion to mentor and direct—the learning opportunities weren’t just for her dogs. There are times as you wander through high school and college or graduate school or dating or in marriage…where you just don’t know what the heck is going on, whether you love this person or that person, whether you should go to school or take that job…at those times it wasn’t always comfortable to talk with Carole. If you didn’t have a game plan, and you were dumb enough to let her know that, you best get ready for questions, and a serious problem solving effort on her part. You weren’t leaving her presence without solution. Part of any solution was to get more education and if it were a love situation and education couldn’t fix it then she would…she was big on match making. So if we, her ‘kids,’ felt the gentle and loving pressure, just imagine how those men and women who would marry us felt. (Especially, since most of us found our loves without her help…) Sarah Weaver, married Josh Larson a member of Camp Tummy, and wrote to me saying that while she felt the questions from Carole they never felt like judgment—“they were just encouraging, supporting and hoping to expand where I was with myself and my challenges. After talking with her I felt like any challenges were soon history—I could indeed do what I needed to do….or I would have to answer to Carole at our next family gathering.”

She was there to support us in all our life events…baptisms, confirmations, graduations from HS, College and beyond, our weddings and she was even there to help two f us pick out our wedding dresses—offering her humor and much needed support to our mother and the moment.

But let’s face it, we wanted to be near her because she was cool. She was young at heart. She always had the latest technology or device, she loved star wars and star trek…(although I’m not sure that made her cool—one of her godsons did think I should translate this to klingon in honor of her), was up on the latest movies, read People magazine, she was the first one to jump on the jet ski, she loved to hang out at Disneyworld, she and Dick took fantastic trips where they scuba dived and rode horses and drove around in jeeps, she was always finding the latest and greatest exercise class or spa treatment, she had wonderful, unique dogs—our other siblings, she always had a fast sports car—that she let us drive, she had gorgeous clothes and shoes—that she let me wear, she loved to spent time at the pool—which she shared with everyone, she was extremely generous and she knew it was important to have guess jeans and betton sweaters in Junior High and the latest gadgets to play with…but she also knew that they were just things—people mattered more.

And no matter how close we were to Carole we knew we weren’t the most important one…that spot was reserved solely for Dick—her man. Most of us are in the early stages of marriages and relationships--while we may have watched and hoped to learn from their love affair, we are just beginning to really discover what a special and unique gift they gave each to each other. Theirs is a relationship we would all love to emulate for a day, let alone 40 years. In this world as it is, it is easy to lose sight of how loving we humans can really be, how gracious and devoted…Carole and Dick together modeled this for us and we can only hope in our relationships for a fraction of what they shared.

Carole will be remembered through classes and grants, books and awards, by colleagues and students that have been touched and changed by her influence in their lives…but she will always be present in our lives, and now in the lives of the third generation, those babies she celebrated and delighted in, referred to as her Gran-godkids…she will always be present perhaps not by DNA, but through love, she is woven into our very being...we will do our best to live up to and to live out that love—for it, we are forever changed and most thankful and we will celebrate her with our whole lives.

On the Walk Through Grief...

As this year of anticipatory grief went on I experienced, all of the emotions people are "suppose" to have. Anger, sadness, loss of interest, denial...questions of faith.

One expects, and inevitably accepts, that great-grandparents and grandparents die in their 80's or 90's. It is sad but that sadness is manageable because it is how the cycle of life goes. My godmother died a good 30 years too soon for my liking. I've written before about my anger at God and given much thought to what faith looks like when you and God aren't really on good terms.

I remember during CPE standing face to face with a friend as we professed our absolute faith in God's presence in our lives. No doubts. This story we proclaim is true and real. No uncertainties in the promises God have made to us. We weren't being arrogant, rather thankful for this gift we both shared in the face of so many patients that had doubts.

I see now that perhaps, mine at least, was ill tested. In the following years I would learn first hand what faith looks like in the face of illness, death, addiction, depression, and economic struggle--some came in my own life, most of it in the lives of parishioners. But never did I question my own health and well being.

I now harbor this odd statement in my mind and heart: So, God really does let bad things happen to really, really good people. God really doesn't hold me up as a someone who won't be touched by tragedy. My idyllic life up until now was just, what, a phase? Huh? huh. And if this is true...what's next?

Part of me now lives in vulnerability, waiting for the other spiritual test to arrive. This isn't an all consuming thought...it is merely a new whisper in the back of my mind. It is a new and unfamiliar filter.

In the years to come, as I weave her life into my own and her story becomes one that fills me with joy rather than the current bittersweet after taste of a life too short, I see that this doubt and fear may be a helpful one as I enter other people's journey. It may also be helpful in encouraging me to give thanks and be grateful for the day ahead of me and the people surrounding me.

Someday, may that be the case.

God save the Queen, indeed! Bravo.

Well, I had a request to post the SNL skit after all. I will accommodate--I'm nice that way. It is even funnier if you watched the CBS interview--which felt like a SNL skit at some moments.

Bidden or Not God is Present

Kelly Fryer writes a entry on her blog about the differing theologies at play in our two political parties. It echoes the conversations my husband and I had this weekend following the debate. I know I said I was going to stay away from politics but I just can't...I care too much and on some level it is like watching a car accident. I tell myself I am going to just offer up my prayers and blessings and keep driving, but I always, always turn my head to look at what is going on. So, it is with politics.

Kelly writes:

In Iraq,for example, McCain says, we're going to win, win, win!!!!! (sorry, again)

Obama says we need to make sure we're not spending the lives of our young men and women unwisely.

McCain says, the mothers of the dead soldiers are counting on us!!!!!

Obama says, yes, I know.

A lot of pundits are asking "is America ready to elect a black man president?"

I'm wondering: Are we ready for a Lutheran? (Even a Lutheran-wanna-be??)

Can we handle paradox?

Can we manage to be both bold and humble?

Are we willing to let God be God?

She nails it for me.

In the debate, as I watched Sen. McCain get passionate about one thing and one thing only...battle, war, and defining who is 'good' and who is 'bad'...I was frightened. And annoyed. Mind you it was a foreign policy debate so war is bound to be part of the conversation, but when the idea of talking to someone else became just ludicrous to him--it solidified for me why I am being driven slowly mad by he and his running mate. In their world and in many (good grief apparently, most) theologies, a person is either 'good' or 'bad.' The idea that everyone is in fact--saint and sinner, healing and broken, wrong and right, certain and full of questions, wounded and the wound-er--just isn't how they construct the world. I don't know if it doesn't ring true to their own self or if it has never been presented to them or if it just not as much fun as being on the "winning" side.


Well, in other news, the kids are awake, and screaming, so any shred of coherent sentences that may be in my brain have shut down.

I read this comment over on The Paris Project blog and it rang so true with much of what is bugging me....it is on motherhood, but the sentence gets at the heart of what may be the problem.

"I'd find something to complain about, no matter the circumstance; because really, what I battle against is my own frustration with a world not yet made perfect." By Sharon in the comment section.

Come, Lord Jesus...Come.


p.s The opening SNL skit was dead on funny again this week...but I'm not posting it for fear of what the masses may do to me.

And then there is my mother...

Sunday, I experienced a conversation between a mother and daughter that made me realize I am beginning to fall securely on the mother side of this balancing see saw. The young girl is about 11 years old and her mother is not a whole lot older than me. As we stood in the aisle after the last service of the day, we chatted about miscellaneous things and then my hair came up. They liked my new cut. I thanked them and the mother went on to mention that she needs a new cut herself.

"You should get it like hers," says the daughter.
"Oh, I should? You'd like it on me?" the mother asks.
"Yeah. I want to get mine cut too."
"What are you going to do?"
The daughter motions across her face that she wants longer shaggy bangs...
as the daughter is doing this someone calls from across the sanctuary to ask the mother a question. She answers the person and turns her full attention (body, eyes) back to her daughter.
"How was that again?"
The daughter makes the motion across her face again...
"That's what you want?" (absolutely no judgment in voice...)
The girl erupts in a passionate, "Yeah, you'd never let me do it."
"That's not what I said... (she is obviously uncomfortable that this conversation is happening with me there but is calm and cool) I just hadn't hear this idea before. It might be cute."
"Never mind. " Big eye rolls and huge sigh, slight foot stomp.
Then to me, "She'd never let me do it."
The mom shoots me a deflated look and then sighs. Instantly, I realize that I am on her side. She couldn't win when it comes to hair. Which is what I go on to say.
"Between my sister and I, my mom says she just can't say anything...we just hear her differently than how she means it. There is some filter we hear our mother's through."





So, when my mom called to tell me that she was tired of seeing the faces of "Sarah Palin" and "Hillary Clinton" from SNL up on my blog...I remained cool.
"Maybe it is time to take them down," she mentioned.
"Oh, ok, thanks mom...I'll get right on that," I deadpan in response.
"No, no you can do whatever you want....I'm just tired of their faces."
"I can do whatever I want on my own blog?" (grin, grin)
"Stop that--You know what I mean, I just can't say anything..."

One foot stepping forward into motherhood...one foot securely planted in daughterhood.


Oh, and I imagine that the SNL skit has been moved to another page with this entry. ;) So, there you go.

Bono on the Bailout.

Lindean posted before me...so go read her. :)

So, I have this friend....

WHO IS TOTALLY BOSSY...and VERY impatient. :)




But I love her, and will get to her request just as soon as I can.

When Your Kids Say What You Are Thinking...

Today is absolutely gorgeous! So while my goal was to organize and clean a bit, we headed to the park. As Big Boy ran and climbed, I sat with EG and took in the sunshine; giving thanks for the cool dry air. We had the place to ourselves for the most part until about 20 mins into our playing when a noise developed down the path.

Big Boy stopped mid-climb to turn around to see who or what was coming his way. He had to crane his neck so far that he nearly toppled off the rock "mountain" he was scaling. Upon seeing what was coming our way, he turned to look at me for reassurance. "Keep climbing...hands on the rocks." Is what I said, acting as if it was no big deal, inwardly I was groaning.

What was heading our way was a pack of preschoolers followed by two women I assumed were their mothers. The kids were jumping and pushing and basically, being kids. But they were LOUD. Really, really LOUD. They came closer. and closer. and closer.

Finally, they arrived at the park and descended like locust upon the climbing walls, slides, monkey bars and swings. There were 5 or 6 of them all around 3 or 5 years of age. Every bar and stair and slide was taken over by not only their bodies, but by their voices.

It quickly became obvious where the kids learned how to turn up the volume with such gusto. Their mothers were screamers and loud talkers. They seated themselves on a bench near me and alternated between screaming at the kids and then talking really loudly to each other as they tried to chat about their week. They had to catch up on summer travel (get down!) and fall plans and who had just had a baby (do not throw that again!!) and how she was doing and what they thought of her husband (what did I say?!)and what they were going to have for dinner and why their kids didn't know how to take turns (Stop it!)and how their oldest was getting too much homework (that is it!) and how picky their youngest child was about where he'd go to the bathroom and....

Big Boy slid down the spiral slide so fast, and then just stood frozen at the bottom taking it all in.

Slowly, so as not to miss any action he inched his way back over to me.

"Mom, we go now?"

So as not to look like we were leaving because they had just taken over--I mean, play--I told Big Boy to take one more turn on something "before we need to go." Why I cared what it looked like to this group I do not know.

Big Boy opted to play with the wood chips for a moment near me and then said he was ready. "We go."

As we walked back to the car, he took my hand willingly and walked along quietly. Nearing our car he looked up at me as if to say something he'd given much thought to...."Mom, those guys loud. I don't like when people loud."***

I looked around with that parental shame we have when our kids utter a social faux pas, "Shhhh, Big Boy."

Then, realizing he had really just stated the truth, and why should he be corrected for that (plus, we were really far away AND they could never have heard us over themselves), I added, "You are right, they were very loud."


***I will remember this tonight around 5pm when both my kids are screaming and Big Boy is trying to out scream his sister--reaching new volume and notes each night. It is charming.

SNL Skit--Playing it over and over.

Ok, I know I said I was backing off the politics for a while but I LOVED this SNL skit. It brings me such joy.

Sara Miles on Beliefnet

With this political commentary, I may end my rants and raves for the election cycle....
May. be. :) But even if you are tired of politics, or at least my commentary, keep reading.

"It's not that I think faith exists apart from what Christians like to call "the world." Just like Jesus, we're all born smack in the middle of the flesh and blood of a politicized world, and I believe we're called to engage with it. I'm not asking Christians to retreat from activism.

But I know that we're shaped by what we pay attention to. And that, like a tree planted by a stream, we flourish when we steep ourselves daily in the often uncomfortable waters of Scripture--the Word which demands that we see ourselves as fundamentally the same as God's other messed-up children; that we humble ourselves and admit what we don't know; that we pray not just for our side but for our enemies. We flourish when we drag ourselves to church and sit next to people whose politics we don't agree with; when we listen openly to the prayers of their hearts, when we offer them the kiss of peace even when we can't stand them.

On the other hand, if we avoid real conversation with other human beings in favor of being planted by the shallow stream of TV news, or the treacherous stream of attack ads, or the noisy stream of angry blogs, our souls are in danger. Our attention to all the disembodied trivia and rage and slander that pours forth in an election year can be poisonous. It makes us passive: we don't necessarily do anything in response to the media onslaught; instead we only reinforce our own opinions. A politics -like a theology--that's only about opinions and doctrine, not action, makes us self-righteous. And then we're only able to pray, like the Pharisee, "Thank God I'm not like other people."

"Preach it," says Paul.

So Paul and I agree on a plan for our church, a way for us to involve our members as Christians this election season. Here it is, our radical gay agenda: Read the Bible and pray for your enemies."

Here is the whole article

It is in the Bible...

This past week my fall schedule started up. I attend a mom's group that is organized by a congregation that is a bit out of my theological comfort zone--to put it mildly. They are socially conservative and interpret the Bible in a much more fundamental way than my tradition, or I, do.

But they put on a really well organized mom's group, so in spite of nearly constant theological red flags going off as I listen to the speakers and my fellow mothers, I continue to attend. My pastoral heart breaks sometimes as I listen to what these women are taught and believe about their role in the world...but that is a topic for another time. I guess I'm a sucker for well decorated tables, yummy food, crafts and good childcare...and, and, every once in a while I come away edified and inspired.

The MOPS group is open to mothers from any denomination (or none) but the hosting church does a nice job of inviting the women to connect to life of their congregation. This past week they were highlighting the fall Bible studies...as the leader read over the descriptions she came to a study of 1 Corinthians. Very nicely, and sincerely she said, "...a study of 1 Corinthians, which is in the Bible,.." Bells went off in my head. For one nanosecond the snarky, cynical side of my brain piped up, "Oh, come on...everyone knows what 1 Corinthians is from, we aren't stupid." Then I realized that, no, in fact many people may not.

I've never been apart of a church which felt a need (or rather, felt they had the need) to be so mindful of people who may not know the insider language of Christianity. Hospitality, outreach, being mindful of how we welcome and invite the stranger has always been a passion of mine, but I was reminded that in many churches that simply means helping members greet a new person or putting up new sign so people can find the bathrooms.

It got me thinking about all the ways church is a closed system--all the barricades in place that keep people from coming in and us from reaching out.

Try to write a bulletin or to make your announcements for someone who has no idea about Christianity, never mind your specific congregation. Try preaching that way. Teach a class. Hard, huh? Convicting. But it is also so energizing for me...how fun would it be to be a part of a congregation that intentionally thought this way?

From the blog: Living word by word

For the West Wing fans among us....

Superhuman Mom

Slate.com has a good editorial on motherhood and "doing it all" a la Gov. Palin style. It also has many other links.

Preaching Butterflies

Oh, go read Meta's new entry on preaching jitters, and the community of Saints surrounding her. It will make you much happier than tonight's ridiculous speech, or my commentary on it, ever could.

Tone Matters. Words Matter.

Last night all I heard more fear mongering...more of the same snarky, hateful, mean spirited "jokes" that I've heard for the last eight years. I am filled with my own venom and spite right now...

I have a messiah, don't you dare questions my faith and I find it offensive that the Republicans are using this tact to attack me. I am voting for Sen. Obama because I appreciate his tone and style. I appreciate education and thoughtful reflection. I know what community organizing is and it requires the skill set I think a President needs.

I am also someone who thinks speeches are more than just words. Words can change lives. Telling us who to fear isn't inspiring--it makes me want to crawl into bed. We can do anything and history has proven this. Our American zeal and spirit can be used for the good of the world or for our demise. ...but we must be unified and excited to act and make the necessary changes. Style matters. Tone matters. Words matter.

I think a maverick's zeal, shoot from the hip, and snarky one liners, has gotten us to this point, and I'm not impressed.

Open Closet...

Whenever I go home--home to my parents' or home to my Godparents'--I have a certain ritual I end up doing. I am not home very often these days so I always end up walking around taking in all the changes that might have taken place between visits. (some, including my mother, might call it snooping.) New wall colors, different pillows, a table moved, the latest magazine or book on a nightstand...

and the newest clothes in her closet.

Thursday, after the service I found myself upstairs using the bathroom next to the master bedroom. Once in the hallway, I knew I had to go in. It is what I always did...check out the latest beauty products she was using or to see if she'd bought any new clothes or shoes I needed to borrow. I stepped in to the master bedroom like I always did, carefully making sure everyone was decent (I could hear her voice calling out to Dick...) and then heading to the back of the room and into the closet. Of course, no one was there this time.

The room held everything and nothing all at once.

As I made my way to the closet I was overwhelmed by the memories and conversations that came to me...rushing at me in a wave so hard and fast that I could no longer breathe or hold in my tears.

There wasn't a time I was in town, or a week (ok, a day) when I lived with them, that I wasn't borrowing some article of clothing or accessory from her closet. Whenever someone complimented me on a pair of shoes or a jacket or sweater...I'd fess up, "It's Carole's."

I had a few key pieces of hers that I liked to wear...the rest was just fun to try on. In all honesty, she wore much more color and pattern than I was comfortable in. She was also more hip than I...especially as I began to have kids and my clothes became spit rags more than actual items of clothing. She was always trying to get me to try a t-shirt with rhinestones or a v-neck that "went too far" in my estimation. (Both of these observations say more about my conservative style than her taste in clothes.) She had matching outfits--coordinated and finished off with jewelry. Over and over she'd say I looked good or jump up from her computer to find something she thought would work better. She'd put secretaries on hold or tell a colleague she'd call them back. She approached finding me the right outfit as if she had nothing else to do with her day.

Again, words are failing me. Picking out clothes was not our whole relationship...

A friend of mine, upon hearing of her death, wrote to me. In love, he wondered what on earth I would wear now...

Right now, grief and denial still fit very well. But I hope in my lifetime I can wear life with half her grace and style; passion and fight. I will wear her focus on self care and health. I will put on her optimism and delight. I hope her ability to put the best spin on a person or situation, fits me one day. I will walk steadily in her love and her pride in who I am. Her closet was full and I am so thankful I was a part of it.

Will it Ever be Ok? Nope.

I found this fitting and comforting...
A couple of weeks ago I hugged a friend goodbye, and as we both mutually cried for my Godmother, I whispered, "It will be ok. It will suck, but it will be ok."

I take it back.

It may never be ok. I believe and I trust that we will be fine (as in, held by God and loved) but it may never be ok that she suffered and died at 62 after a year long battle with cancer. And, that is ok.


**Jenell Paris' post is titled "A Post before Bed"

My Godmother...

Carole J. Bland

I have much to say about the impact this woman had on my life, but can't formulate the words right now. Nothing I create seems to do justice to our relationship and so, I am going to let it be for now...simply sharing her obituary.

It has been nearly a year since she was diagnosed. My grief has been building to this point. Now it is time to go to the depth of my pain and as a friend said, "be with those who can help you come back up."

Your Silence Won't Protect You

"Your silence won't protect you in here." These words have stayed with me ever since the director of Abbot Northwestern Hospital's Clinical Pastoral Education program uttered them to me. I was a seminarian fulfilling my unit of required CPE. I have no memory of what the actual topic was but I can still feel the chair beneath me and see the office in my mind.

I wasn't completely sure of what he meant when he said it to me. During CPE, I was a chaplain in a children's hospital and responsible for one other floor in the "regular" hospital. Walking in and out of stranger's rooms put me way out of my comfort zone. So did the small group therapy sessions that happened with other chaplains during the week.

I'm an observer. I tend to stand back and watch a group before deciding how, or if, I will join in. At the time, I didn't fully understand how this bit of wisdom would relate to ministry...or life for that matter, but over the years it has played back in my mind time and time again.

Silence is often my amour of choice, and he was right, it doesn't protect me. It buys me time. It helps me calculate what is going on within a group. It allows this extrovert some time to think verse react, but it doesn't protect me. (Using extrovert as 'one who talks until they know what they think' verses an introvert who 'thinks until they know what they feel')

I am once again reminded of this phrase, this time in terms of marriage. I've known my husband since 1994. We were married in 2000. We know each other. We are good friends. We are very different. Communication is always tricky...perhaps especially when you know each other and are good friends. It is easy to assume the other knows what you want and need. It is very easy to assume the other thinks and needs the same thing in the same way they needed and felt in 1994.

It is also easy with two kids, a dog, house, jobs, sickness, grief, etc. to lose each other and to lose oneself. The wise words from the CPE director came back to me the other day when mid-let's just say it-fight, my husband said, "You need to tell me these things. I don't just know."

I was silent for a few reasons. One is, I fall victim to the fantasy that the love of your life should just know you; and two, if I don't say what I want, I don't run the risk of not getting it. The third, not so flattering one is, that it is easier to whine "I'm so misunderstood." than it is to do the work to be understood.

Peacebang writes a lovely entry about her summer of self care and as I read it I was overcome with jealously. It wasn't so much what she said, although she writes beautifully and has wise things to say, it was that she had the time to do the work. I should say, made the time. This is what I need, a time of reflection. I need the world to pause so I can breathe and catch up. Mine wouldn't/can't look exactly like her Summer of Prayer, and because I have fallen into a bit of 'martyr mom mode,' I just pout around mopey that I can't get a break. Silently fuming and fussing...grief and gripes piling up--I choose silence.

My silence won't protect me. It is, actually, hurting me. If I don't speak up and say what I need, there is no chance I will get it. Accusing others of denying me my needs isn't fair or true. Some of what I need, can't happen and I must make peace with that. In other cases, I don't know exactly what I am trying for...but silence isn't it.

Friday Five from RevGalBlog

Here are five things to ponder about dates. I hope you'll play!

1) Datebooks--how do you keep track of your appointments? Electronically? On paper? Month at a glance? Week at a glance?

I have a datebook. It shows a week at a time. I like to see ahead and I like to use a pen/pencil--don't think the electronic would work for me. I have a master calendar on the fridge as well.

2) When was the last time you forgot an important date?
Rarely, if ever. (Friends and family: true or false?) Some sneak up on me. I find birthdays to be very important so have most acquaintances' and friends' (most...not all.) written on my calendars. This includes baptismal dates, anniversaries, deaths, due dates, etc.

3) When was the last time you went OUT on a date?
2005.
...no, let's see. Oh, oh...we went out for dinner sometime between July 07 and March of 08.

4) Name one accessory or item of clothing you love even though it is dated.
Most of my clothes fit into this category. I think they are still current and then when I think about when I first bought them, I realize a decade or more has gone by. Oops. (Plus, most no longer fit.)

5) Dates--the fruit--can't live with 'em? Or can't live without 'em?
I am not a fan of the date.