Life Giving?

For some time now, I have had one too many caringbridge sites to follow. I'd rather have zero but instead I have five or six. Two of which are near and dear to my family's hearts. Yuck. Sigh.

But today, I am not sighing over the people's conditions reported on at the sites, but on the well being of those commenting on some of them. I catch myself offering prayers for the supporters and friends.

Some of the comments simply reflect a piece of the Christian body that is foreign to me. Some reflect theology that is just uncomfortable for me. Some are just not well thought out. All of them come from people hurting and grasping for words of comfort...comfort for the one with the diagnosis, and comfort for themselves as they feel completely helpless and weak...and well, human.

Many comments speak of a "miracle." Some allude to the number of visits and marvel that surely God will act because of the great number of people praying. "God can't help but take notice." More than one offers the platitude that "God has a plan."

I sincerely, do. not. understand. With all compassion and love, how is this helping either party?

Perhaps many of us, in the heat of the crisis, don't think our theology out to the next step...

And if a miracle doesn't happen? Whatever that miracle may be, when it doesn't happen, what then do you say about God?

My fear is people blame themselves...

needed to pray more
there was some unrepentant sin
didn't trust enough
didn't do, didn't do, didn't do...and God forgot us or worse, just turned away in disgust.
Must worker hard for God to notice...

I can't believe in a God who practices conditional love. 'If/then' theology doesn't work for me. It breaks my heart (and I am filled with more than a bit of anger) when I hear it taught, modeled and preached. I wonder, "how is it life sustaining for anyone?"

When my heart is breaking over the state of the world, the pain in people's lives, and the uncertainty of life, when I am crippled over at the weight of my own sin; I can't believe in a God that practices 'if/then' love.

God has loved us through quite a bit of "stuff" since daylight first broke and the sun first set. From what I've heard and experienced, God has never waited for us to get our act together before participating in our lives.

When I am in pain, I find it much more comforting to know God is crying with me, angry and hurt, even more than I am, at death, sickness and sin. I find it much more comforting to think God takes notice of all of creation--regardless of whether we have our act together, regardless of how many prayers we have offered up, regardless of if we've said the "right words and actions"or not. God who seeks out all of us lost and wandering people...not only takes notice, but acts in our lives. Unconditionally, reaches out in love, hope and mercy.

We humans can so easily take God and mold the Creator of the Universe for our own human purpose--making God fit in to the mold we can most relate to. I do it all the time. Many would say that I've done it with this post.

Today, I am thankful for God's patience with us and the never ceasing participation in our lives. May our comments be life giving and our lives filled with hope.

We Believe What We Want to Believe...

Isn't that the truth?!

I struggle with this nearly every day--how to be gracious to those I passionately disagree with as I *try* to understand why we are coming at life from such a different perspective. That's my mature way of saying, "When I am so clearly, right, and they are so clearly, wrong." I'd write something, but the Sarcastic Lutheran said it better. So for now, read this and know that I say, "Amen." and "May Your Kingdom Come." (especially to the prayer at the end.)

Sermon Matthew 10:40-42

My sermon for tomorrow (or something like it)...good grief, I can put this process off. My only solace is that my pastor growing up didn't start his sermons until 11pm on Saturday. I am a whole two hours ahead of him. :)

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ. Amen.

Finally, we get to the good part. If you’ve been round the last few weeks you’ll remember that the Gospel texts have been working us through chapter 10 of Matthew. Jesus comes home one day and decides it is time to spread the work load out a bit. He looks at the twelve disciples and gives them a job description to end all job descriptions…cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, and cast out demons. Then he tells them that not only is there no funding for them, they must leave behind any worldly goods they might have. He also tells them that this isn’t a job for a family man, seeing as it will cause great division and change among ones brothers and sisters and parents. On top of all this, not everyone is going to be welcoming. The disciples know that they are bringing good news, healing and the power to change lives…but not everyone is ready for this power. Not everyone is prepared for a change. Not everyone wants to hear this story. Some of the towns they come to are going to ask them to keep walking. Some of the doors they knock on are going to remain closed. Many of the people’s hearts they meet are going to remain hard.

Knowing full well that as we hear this Gospel, we are the spiritual descendants of the disciples, with full knowledge that we too are called to live on the sustenance of God alone…by verse 40 we are ready to hear about reward. Finally, it seems we are about to get to the good part.

In Matthew 10, verse 40, Jesus’ attention shifts from his disciples to those who will receive the disciples in their homes and towns. Jesus says, “whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” He goes on to say, “whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple – truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

The disciples are promised ‘welcome,’ and their reward is a cup of water?

Water.

Now I grant you that cool water would have been a welcome relief on a dry desert day. But, if we are honest with ourselves, after all this work, doesn’t a part of us expect the welcome to look a bit more like; a friendly person with open arms bringing us in to the cool relief of their home, giving us some water to drink but also some wine and a hearty meal. Don’t we have visions of someone offering a bowl of water to clean our burning feet and some oil to heal the cracks and scrapes from a day of walking?

But a cup of water? I’ll say this, Jesus remains a realist when it comes to setting the bar of our expectations. It is almost as if the process of following Jesus is as important as the end results.

After all that work, all the demands of discipleship, all that is sacrificed and loss…all someone needs to do is scoop up some water from their well and offer it to us and they are welcomed by God? Both the prophet and the one who receives him will be viewed the same reward?

It seems to me at the end of this discipleship tutorial, Jesus’ real gift to the disciples and to us, is freedom. No matter where we read the text from: either as a disciple going out, or as someone offering to serve “a little one”…the reward is freedom. We are free to try. Try to offer love, try to serve, try to speak up, try to tackle sin, try to bring life. Our efforts might end in failure…a closed heart, deaf ears, a slammed door. Our efforts might result in new life. We are free to be human and that, my dear friends, is God’s grace.

When I first moved to Peoria, we lived in a temporary apartment and to escape all the boxes I would aimlessly wander around the Lakeview library branch. One day I saw a brochure for the Newcomers’ Club. I took a huge leap out of my comfort zone to attend a lunch. In that leap I discovered the one great things about this town. Most people aren't from here...or rather most of the people I know aren’t. And because of this, people are quite quick to welcome the new person. Many of the families are corporate transfers who are skilled at making community and setting up a home fast. That is rare for a town this size. In most Midwest (and perhaps all over) communities you hear stories of how entrenched the social circles are--based on which high school or college you attended. Your family is probably still around so there is that added comfort zone. It can be a hard place to break in to existing social circles.

When we lived in Fargo, even though I worked in the community before becoming a pastor and participated in activities outside of the church, over the three years we lived there, I developed no friendship outside of my pastoral colleagues. When we moved, I knew isolation would be an issue so I took some risks and actively sought out people.

In hindsight I find it telling that I thought this group would be a good means to meet people verses, say, a church. But let’s be honest, churches are rarely as welcoming as they think they are. If you’ve never had to do it, let me tell you--it is hard to break into this particular social system—this coming from a Christian, a Lutheran, someone who understands what membership is about, and a pastor.

Entering a club specifically for people new to area means you need to strengthen your small talk skills. The disciples in today’s Gospel were meant to move around and proclaim the gospel, opening each conversation with the words, “The kingdom of heaven has come near.” I don’t imagine you and I open every conversation like this…and our lives don’t always reflect this proclamation either. Imagine if you opened each casual conversation with these words…how exactly would you be received?

I imagine very few of us would open right up with, “Hi, I’m Gayle or Steve…I’m a disciple of Jesus Christ and the Kingdom of God has come near.” But when you are pastor…try as you might to fend off that topic, it always comes up. “And what do you do?” A part of me always hesitates not because I’m ashamed or denying my call but because I know it is going to change the course of the conversation and our relationship forever. Some people close down. Some get angry. Some open up…some open up too much. Blessed be the ones who continue to treat me as they did before they learned my calling.

Of course, I imagine all of us have moments where we know our identity as a Child of God has turned people away or brought them closer to us. Where it has changed the course of our relationship with a person. Not wanting change, not wanting to deal with the conflict our identity might bring on…we begin to go it alone. Fear and doubt join us on our journey. Or begin to close down ourselves, slamming doors…becoming entrenched in our faith community, forgetting that our job description was to go out there, to be among those people.

What my time within the Newcomers’ club as taught me is this…We are all visitors. This flawed and broken world--one that can be so lonely and isolating--is not our home. It helps me to remember as I move around that none of us feel completely comfortable where we are...that everyone I come across is a bit lost, a bit of a newcomer. We are all in need of hospitality and grace, no matter how long we've lived at one address or another...together we live in this foreign land searching and yearning for those moments of the Kingdom to break in, for God to hold us...to be truly welcomed.

Discipleship is about the process of following Christ. The end goal belongs to God and God has already shared that reward with us. God has welcomed us Eternal life is ours, God’s love and mercy is ours. . Instead of a life lived in pursuit of a reward, discipleship is the lifelong attempt to trust in God’s promise to provide and care for us. We do not follow Jesus in search of a reward--because at the end our earthly reward may only be a cup of water. We follow Jesus because he is the one who grants us the freedom to be human. Broken, questioning, tired…human. Hopeful, awestruck, energized…human. Sinfully human. Sainted, human. God grants us refreshing grace…space and room to attempt to fully be who God created us to be. Through Christ we have freedom from God to try—to follow where Christ leads us, to open ourselves up to the visitor, to knock on hearts, to serve and love the other, to live as though the kingdom of God has indeed come near and invite others to join us. Doors may open, doors may close…but truly I tell you not one who tries will lose their reward.

Amen.

Let's Go Swimming

Wake up. Beautiful day...let's go swimming.
Want new pool.
9:00am
Everyone fed,
clean,
dressed,
in the car.
Drive to Target to get it.
Don't have.
Buy a summer 'chic lit' book, new chalk...ready for fun in the sun.
Drive to Walmart.
Buy pool.
Stop to buy coffee on the way home (not on the way, mind you...) but need to go to the bank so it works out.
Take longer route home because Kathy and Judy are funny. (on radio)
Home.
Unload car.
Emily awake.
Henry "so 'cited, Mom."
Change one diaper.
Get Henry dressed,
sunscreen,
swim diaper,
swim suit.
Change another diaper.
Put on sunscreen.
Get self dressed for outdoors.
Emily crying.
Will. Not. Be. Left. Alone.
Henry begins to whine.
Emily stops crying.
We go out side.
Bring chalk, pool, sunglasses and coffee.
Set up umbrella.
Run back inside--forgot to switch water tank to softened water--convince Henry to come in.
Back outside.
Hook up hose, turn on water.
Begin to fill up pool.
Henry wants to draw with Chalk.
Draw with Chalk.
Emily crying.
Convince Henry to come back inside.
Emily ok.

LUNCH TIME.

Henry wants to come in.
Henry wants to change clothes.
Take off swimsuit and swim diaper.
Begin to make lunch.
Turn off water outside.
Eat lunch.
Convince Henry to stay inside while Emily eats.
Feed Emily.
She will not be left alone.
Emily cries.
Henry cries.
Mommy thinks about crying.
Decide to go back out.
Put swimsuit on Henry.
Put Emily under umbrella.
Henry draws with chalk.
"How about we swim?"
Go to pool.
Look at pool.
Get in pool.
We stand in it for three minutes.

"I all done swimming. That fun, Mommy."
Noon.

Newcomers All of Us

Yesterday, at the monthly Newcomers lunch I met a young woman who had just moved to the area. She had the nervous giddy laugh of someone who isn't quite sure what they had gotten themselves into and that shell shocked look of someone whose clothes are still sitting in the living room in a suitcase and whose coffee maker is in the garage with her toothbrush.

This Newcomers group is something I joined when we first moved here. I was aimlessly wandering around the library one day as I escaped life in the temporary apartment and saw the brochure. I took a huge leap out of my comfort zone to attend a lunch. In the leap I discovered the one great thing about this town. Most people aren't from here...or rather most of the people I know. And because of this, people are quite quick to welcome the new person. Many of the families are corporate transfers who are skilled at making community and setting up a home fast. That is rare for a town this size. Even in Mpls and St. Paul I have heard stories of how entrenched the social circles are--based on which college you attended or which high school you went to. Your family probably still around so there is that added comfort zone. The midwest (and probably everywhere) can be a hard place to break in to existing social circles.

In Fargo, even though I worked in the community before becoming a pastor and did participate in activities outside of the church during the three years we lived there, I developed no friendship outside of colleagues. Not a one.

But I had very close friends nearby so the isolation was easily thawed with a quick trip north or south. But when we moved, I knew isolation would be an issue so I took some risks and actively sought out people.

In hindsight I find it telling that I thought this group would be a good means to meet people verses, say, a church. But church comes with numerous issues for me. And lets be honest churches are rarely as welcoming as they think they are. It is HARD to break into that particular social system--even being a Christian, a Lutheran, a life long member of one church or another, and a pastor. Perhaps it is really just this last title that leads me to seek other avenues for friendship. The pastor baggage can get in the way a bit...in any circle.

While I am thankful for the connections made and the warm welcome I received through the newcomers group, my participation is waning. Over the three and a half years in this town, I have found new connections, real friends, and the newcomer group itself has changed. (The negative part of a town made up of transplants is they are probably going to be re-potted somewhere else sooner or later.) But yesterday, as I drove home from the lunch, I remembered the greatest lesson being a newcomer taught me.

We are all visitors. This flawed and broken world--one that can be so lonely and isolating--is not our home. It helps me to remember as I move around that none of us feel completely comfortable where we are...that everyone I come across is a bit lost, a bit of a newcomer. We are all in need of hospitality and grace, no matter how long we've lived at one address or another...together we live in this foreign land searching and yearning for those moments of the Kingdom to break in, for God to hold us...to be truly, home.

My First Born Spoiled Me

Most of you have known me long enough know just how far Annebelle has fallen in the family hierarchy. Three short years ago she was our prized friend and constant companion. Then we moved her away from the large yard and tens of neighborhood kids in Fargo...depression set in. And then we had Henry. She got mad at us, and we, in turn began to ignore her.

There is no question that owning a dog is good preparation for childcare. It takes some of the edge off. A puppy introduces you to sleepless nights and the never ending clean up of bodily fluids. A responsible dog owner knows you have to plan ahead for a trip, need to consider where to stay and allow for bathroom breaks and meals. Your time is not completely your own. You can't be gone from home for hours on end without an unpleasant surprise greeting you upon your return. There is someone else who relies on your for food, shelter and love. You also learn something about discipline (teaching) and in our case spent lots of time in obedience school learning how to be a better human.

Annebelle listened better when I was calm, when I wasn't angry or out of control. She taught me that consistency works...give the same message the same way and eventually the dog or child will get it. BUT man oh man the learning curve is higher with a kid. :) I catch myself saying 'Come here, Henry' and lo and behold....he DOESN'T come! I say "Sit and stay" and he gets up and moves. I tell him "No" and it is as if I am speaking a language only known to me. I say "lay down in bed" and he jumps up.

I know you aren't suppose to compare your children, but really people, Annebelle had all these lessons by a year. :) It might have had something to do with the collar around her neck and the leash....that or the fact she's a first born. They tend to aim high. ;)

Awe, Work

Most of the year, part of me envies Chad as he leaves for work each morning. Mind you, I, along with the whole world, wouldn't want me to do what he is doing. Rather, it is the fact he leaves for work. That he speaks to people...and from the sounds of it they get to finish their sentences. It is the alone drive time. It is the satisfaction (and even frustrations) of finishing a task and the joy of being apart of a team.

But these days, these glorious summer days, I keep my mouth shut and just enjoy the gift I have been given.

I am just back from the park with friends. Part of my job description is Chief Educator of Large Muscle Groups-2 year old division. So, off we go each day to a park or field to run, jump and climb. Hard to want to be anywhere else when it is 75 degrees, sunny with dry breeze. When one is standing in a park sipping iced tea and soaking in the sun, all the while watching joyful kids learn and grow. All the while knowing that it is truly what you "should" be doing for your kids--it is hard to wish for a desk in a cubicle farm.

Of course, I have real complaints/concerns/whines about the state of the world, including my own life, but today isn't a day for them. Today is a day to offer up prayers where they are needed and then be grateful for all the ways God is at work in the world and in my life.

Love is Tough

Forgive me one more bird story.

Today as I was getting BB ready for his nap we noticed Papa Robina and one of the babies squawking away at each other outside the bedroom window. As we watched, I realized that Papa had food in his beak and was not sharing with the baby.

The rest of this story is anthropomorphism at its best...I imagine that Baby Bird can now find plenty of food for herself. Enough weeks have gone by and it is time for her to catch her own worms. Papa must still be around to help direct and guide, but he was hungry. "Get your own worm." I heard him say. The baby squawked and squawked back in protest. When he wouldn't give, she ran after him with her mouth open--panicked and angry. He calmly kept walking and promptly swallowed the worm.

Months ago in some book on parenting I came across the quote, "I won't do for my child what he can do for himself." (Or something like that...) As someone who has never had a huge need to be 'needed', I appreciated the quote. (Now, a need to be adored, loved, cared for, pampered, listened to, appreciated, understood, heard...yes.)

As my own little bird grows, I realize how hard it is to put this idea into practice. In recent weeks I have just begun to feel the growing pains of parenting. Pains that will continue every day for the rest of our lives and from what I can tell only get stronger and at times more stabbing. It is easy enough to get our babies up and walking...we rejoice in those first milestones. But growth, real growth is harder to encourage. But grow they must. They have to have freedom to fall, fail, flail...and fly. Our stepping in to help them isn't really helpful in the long run.

Now that BB can eat, sleep, talk, move all on his own, the next phases begin. How to truly live. Beneath every simple lesson is a larger one that will shape him into adulthood. Henry isn't a kid that pushes boundaries too much. He is content with most of the constraints put on him. Some constraints are ones any parent would place on their kid, others stem from a father whose own anxiety pushes him to assure a world with no risk for his kids. A fruitless endeavor to be sure. I carry my own set of parental fears, but I bring self awareness to the table and a healthy dose of faith, hope and reality. I am no dare devil but I am brave. Bravery that came from being given the space to experience those four 'f's' I just listed.

But what does happen is, being our first child, I am often slow to realize that he could be doing/trying something new. "Oh, he can sit on a chair verses a highchair." "Oh, he can drink from a big cup." "Oh, he should be learning to ride a trike." "Oh, he can go up and down the playground equipment without plummeting to his death." "Oh, he probably should put his own clothes on." "Oh, yeah...potty training." Over the past two years the list goes on and on.

My mantra of "not doing for him what he can do for himself" is good. It is helpful. It is also exhausting. Two year old pace is sssssssslllllllllloooooooowwwwwwww. I am not a teacher by nature...trying to figure out how to communicate these basic concepts takes work. He is mostly content to let me do it for him. Being consistent in allowing/encouraging him the space to try is hard for me.

But everyday, more and more, he is able to search for his own worms. I believe my job is to let him find them. Putting that belief into action is harder than I ever imagined it to be.

Which, which Mommy?

Conversations I've been having....
Me: Time to get into the car.
BB: Which car?
Our minivan.
Which minivan?
The brown one.
Which brown one?
The one in the garage.
Which garage minivan in?
That one. (I point.)
Which one?
Stop.
Mommy, What we do next?
BB, Let's put your shoe on.
Which shoe?
Your blue sandal?
Which blue sandal?
The one in my hand, now, I want your foot.
Which foot for my blue sandal?
Your left foot.
Which left foot?
This one.
Which one? Mommy, which garage again?

Both DAD and I commented that we feel as if we are on some bad comedy show. We are waiting for a camera to pop out and put us on some realty TV remake of the Abbot and Costello act.

You're the one that I love

Made me laugh. Annebelle is good...not this good, though. :)

Creative Worship Link

Augsburg Fortress is starting a creative worship tour...here is a blog entry about it.

Friends

My friend (facebook and real life) Jennie has a really nice entry on Facebook friendship.

Self Control

I woke convicted that I must dig deep within myself. I need to unearth a new level of self control. So this morning I am telling myself to take the day minute by minute. I can do this.

It isn't food. Not alcohol or drugs. Not coffee. No, my friends it is Facebook. I know, just a few posts ago I expressed my confusion over what it is and what exactly is so magical about it, I know.

But I am addicted.

It involves people. It involves searching through the past for people you once knew. It has the snooping element; you can search through other people's friends. Piece together who knows each other and imagine how they met, how they are connected. You read snippets of their life and can imagine. (I'm a snoop at heart...I confess. And I have a huge imagination.) Plus, people actually use this more than email...I have actually heard from more people (or different people) than I do via email. For someone at home with small children, it lulls you into feeling connected with the outside world. And this alone is a drug one must have...It is addicting.

So, today, NO Facebook. No matter how many notices come to my email box, I will not go over to Facebook. I will not. I will not. I. Will. Not.

I know what you're thinking. I said nothing about Blogging or email--so don't judge me. ;)

And Then the Nest was Empty.

Well, almost.

Oh, they grow up so fast. Seems like just last week they were bald ugly and their eyes were all bulging and closed. Thanks to the tireless efforts of Mama and Papa Robin the birds are off. And they are cute!
This morning as I went to let the dog out and much to my surprise there sat one of the babies on our patio table. She was all proud and puffed up. Mama, true to form, was hopping around in an anxious fit on the ground near by. Eventually the baby bird decided to show off for me and took off FLYING to the next tree. I was so proud.

I'm not sure how the family dynamics go with The Robins but the other bird was still huddled in the nest. Perhaps waiting for permission from Mama and Papa. "Wait your turn. She hatched first. Life isn't fair. Get use to it. You both got plenty of worms--I don't want to hear about it."

I'm sure this one will get a crack at life out of the nest, too. This has been a fascinating event to watch.

p.s. from the top photo you'll notice that Big Boy's lettuce crop is doing well.

Do I Look My Age?

I left Oprah in the kitchen remaking women so they looked their age (with Oprah's resources remaking them, I hope they look good at the end...reality isn't quite that easy....) to check my email. I came across this blog entry from Jenell Paris.

http://jenellparis.blogspot.com/

Read her post, Disguises. She could be writing about me in the last two paragraphs. Made me laugh out loud in solidarity.

I don't get it.

Facebook.

I was never part of the 'in' crowd. I never attended one event in high school that could legitimately be described as a 'party'. I did fine as I progressed through college and now feel my social skills are well honed. But perhaps it is these latent HS feelings of inadequacy that made me sign up for Facebook yesterday.

I learned that most of my cousins and all of my siblings were communicating (without me there to monitor the conversation) on Facebook and I just had to be apart of it.

Sure, it was great fun to set up my account and post a photo. I found a few friends that were also signed up and I laughed as throughout the day I received email notices like this one...

"Robroy and Heather are now friends."

Well, I thought we had that established years ago, but whatever. :) And I did get to IM with my sister, so that was a neat feature.

But at the end of the day, old as this may make me sound, I don't get it. Can't we just keep in contact with each other via email? Or phone? Or the US Postal system?

Someone explain, please.

New Life

This past week I discovered something more tiring than being a mom...being a Robin Mama.

A few weeks ago a nice Robin couple made a nest in the pine tree right outside our kitchen window. Pretty soon three perfect, blue eggs showed up. We watched and wondered how they would do. Henry was so excited. While he had no idea what it meant for eggs to 'hatch' he got the gist that it was a special event. I began to worry that this might also turn into Henry's first taste of the big cruel world of nature. I so wanted the eggs to hatch and the birds to live.

Proving that we mothers are a competitive bunch, I began to second guess the Robin Mama's moves.

"Should you really leave the nest so often?"
"Are the eggs warm enough?"
"Awfully windy today, hope you built that nest well."
"Was it smart to build your nest so close to our house?"

Last Wednesday I noticed some movement in the nest and sure enough, there were three baby birds crying out for food. (the photo is not of our baby birds but rather some in PA at Jenell Paris' home)

All weekend we watched with fascination as the Robin family attended to their babies needs. It made me tired. Apparently worms are digested even faster than breast milk. She no sooner feeds them than she flies off to find another worm or grub. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. At least I know how she loses the baby weight.

Obviously parents both of us, our nest multiplied as Chad and I unconsciously check on the birds and report back to each other. "She's feeding them again." "She's got a big grub this time." "Oh, nice worm." "They are awake."

We have tried to respect their space but Sunday I just had to plant some flowers. My own babies were in the house with their Dad and I had some luxurious time to myself. Mama Robin watched me the whole time. As I dug in the soil, just out of my peripheral vision I could see this little bird hopping around in a nervous fit; a fresh worm or grub hanging from her beak.

So our flowers are planted a little denser on one side of the flowerbed and there are weeds under only one tree. I worked as fast as I could.

I feel for her, I really do. These kids are exhausting. At least mine are cute.

Doing Motherhood

Yet today, tomorrow and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem. Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! Luke 13:33-34

The mom's group at my church leads a early childhood class for mothers who attend the alternative high school in our area. This morning a small group of women from our group gathered at church to organize and put together gift bags and resource binders we'll give the students in a few weeks.

I arrived too late to help with one group and just on time to work with the second group. Being a true Minnesota Lutheran, even though I was running late, I also felt a need to bring coffee and baked goods. (It is as if I was raised to believe that sweets and coffee are the third sacrament.) So there we were, united in our effort to support these younger moms.

We joked about who had showered (not I said the fly) and most of us sucked down coffee with the passion; or was it desperation?; of any good addict. Our kids played, cried, laughed, bossed each other around, screamed, ate, and walked/ran around the building with the familiarity of children who identify as much with the church as with their home.

Seemingly we don't have much in common with these young students. For the most part we differ in age, race, economics, upbringing, education, and marital status. By the grace of God our lives look much different than theirs.

But we are all mothers. Whether we wanted to be or not, whether it fit our schedule or turned out how we thought it would, we are mothers. No matter what else we need to figure out in life, we share a call to raise up our children; part of our lives are now lived beyond ourselves.

I love the image of Jesus as a mother hen. He likened himself not to the rooster but to the nurturing hen. The one whose chief purpose is to watch out for her chicks. The one who protects her own by fluffing herself up and stretching out her wings--clucking at her kids to get under her and then sitting on them for their own good. Then she puts her own body between her chicks and the fox. Denying herself so that they might have a fighting chance at a whole life. Dying for them if she must.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes, "...perhaps this is why we call the church, "Mother Church." It is where we come to be fed and sheltered, but it is also where we come to stand firm with those who need the same things from us. It is where we grow from chicks into chickens, by giving what we have received, by teaching what we have learned, and by loving the way we ourselves have been loved--by a mother hen who would give his life to gather us under his wings."

And so at least for me, I gathered my two chicks (by gather, I mean threw them in the car-one without shoes, the other hungry and in her pajamas. I went back for the shoes and she got food.) got sustenance and plopped them in the nursery because, for the sake of my chicks, I want my outstretched arms to extend beyond my own brood.

The students who will receive the binders and goody bags will never know what was going on in our lives as we put them together. They may look at them and never put them to use. They may be too overwhelmed to even open them. But it is our way of extending grace...we are mothers and stretching out our arms is what we do.

I give great thanks for a group of women who model this grace; the ones on this journey of motherhood with me. The ones who continually remind me of the One who opened his arms for me, and through their lives encourage me to open my own arms wider.

Art of Schmoozing

Schmoozing 101

For anyone who wants to help their congregation/small group grow, here are some tips. Although, my friend Jennie has proclaimed the "less chairs" at a party tip for sometime. :)

Awe...needed food for my soul

My devotion for the morning. Watch to the end. While I don't think God is a white male, God may in fact have an Irish accent in my mind. :)
It came from Mary Hess's blog.