Category: beautiful life (Page 27 of 35)

Take a breath

This morning I read a Psalm, a poem penned (etched, more likely) by the Great King David on a morning before heading into battle. He spoke of waking the dawn with music lifted to God and ended by asking God to go with his men into battle for the day. In ancient belief, the only way to win a battle is to have your God win the victory. David was no different – he wanted to live to see the sunset and he was asking God for that privilege.

Today two of my friends will say final goodbyes to a dear friend. Just this week marked one year since another dear friend lost her mother.  People in my circle are mourning – parents, close relatives, good friends. Some of those leaving this world are healthy, others not. Some have enjoyed a life filled with days, others, it seems, got half of what was due. It doesn’t matter the circumstances, the pain of loss is often a cut from the same knife.

To King David, marching off to battle or to myself, sitting in my cozy leather chair in the living room, we are all asking for the next breath. David had an advantage as swords and spears tend to bring our attention to the value of the next breath, but it doesn’t change the currency.

I’m too much of a pacifist to enjoy a war analogy; instead I decide to begin my day much the same way. God, the giver of breath and life, be present in my day and continue to grant my lungs that precious inhale and exhale. May my chest rise and fall repeatedly today, to the joy and benefit of myself and my loved ones. Grant that same breath to those I hold close and may we each feel your presence in it. 

 

When life sprouts

I don’t know how the Duggars do it. For every baby I’ve had, I get exponentially more weepy when I get news of my friends heading to the hospital or holding their sweet newborn for the first time. Just thinking about a photo I saw yesterday sends chills up my spine. Something about the emergence of new life gets to me. It gently grabs me in my core and shakes really hard until all the tears come out.

Last night I had to shy away from Facebook for a while because all the love toward friends of mine welcoming their baby girl got me shook up in a good way and she really didn’t need me gush-texting her at that particular moment. Then other friends made their way to the hospital to meet the newest member of their family after they had received word the birth mother in their adoption was induced. This several-year journey that they’ve allowed me to peek in on was culminating. I stayed up much too late thinking over and over in my head, “they’re going to be holding their baby any time now. They’re going to be holding their baby any time now.”

Seriously, my heart might just bust open and drip all over the floor.

Photo by Noelle Gillies used with permission via CC.

Photo by Noelle Gillies used with permission via CC.

I believe adoption to be one of the ways in which God works shalom into his world. This idea – peace, a returning to the right order, a sense that goodness pervades and wins the day – is central to what we mean when we talk about God at work. He can write love stories into tragedies. He grows life out of barrenness. In my mind, I see a big tree stump that appears dead but with a small sprouting bud beginning to emerge. I admire those that enter into the adoption process for their willingness to step into some unknowns with faith and love of and for someone they have never met.

If I may, I need to write from my gut, not my knowledge, for a moment. I’m out of my realm here, and I know it, but something is brewing and bubbling inside.

In the next several days – weeks! – I’ll be offering prayers for my friends and their new little families. They will awkwardly carry the baby carrier out to the car and wonder, “what in the world were we thinking?!” because that’s how all new parents leave the hospital. They will turn their heads to check on the sleeping one no less than a million times in the 10 minute drive. They might remember the empty fridge they left behind and stop for a bucket of chicken on the way home. That happened to us at least once. Then they’ll come home and go about the work of adjusting to life and wondering how this little person, who takes up so little space in the living room, can take up so much space in their hearts.

I will be offering other prayers, too. I’ll pray for another woman – probably young and probably mostly alone – who will sign papers to be released from the hospital. Hopefully her mother picks her up because a mother can help begin sorting the emotions that come from expelling a living being from your center. This girl will return to her home where there is no crib, no stacks of diapers waiting, and she, too, will go about the work of adjusting to life and wondering how this little person who takes up no space in her living room can take up so much space in her heart.

She will endure a process ahead of her. Her body will bleed for weeks. Her moods will shift and her eyes will leak tears as her breasts leak milk. The task of releasing your child into adoption is not a decision you endure for a singular moment of time.

Those who enter the adoption process, from any side, I believe operate with a great amount of faith and generosity. My friends, for agreeing to bring a person into their lives and homes, to provide for him or her. To make this person a son or daughter. This will be their child.

And this woman, who chose to endure the birth process, only to hand off the fruits to someone else. Such an act can only be described as hope. We don’t know her story and how she ended up in a maternity ward. Perhaps she didn’t want this pregnancy – or perhaps she did but realized she couldn’t provide the life that every parent wants for their precious ones. Whatever the case may be, she gave 10 months of her life, her body and a sense of her future to someone she has never met. No matter what we might believe about this woman’s story, I see a thread of selflessness woven through it.

I am outside my realm here. I know so little about this. I’ve experienced none of it. But I know someone who has. If you or someone you know is interested in the redemptive work of adoption, let me point you toward my friend Angela. Both her heart and her living room is filled with this sense of shalom. They have started an adoption agency, Choosing Hope Adoptions, to make adoption affordable for families who want to step into this faith-filled and hope-filled place. If you want to give to this cause and continue making adoptions possible, you can give online.

Homeostasis

I read on some crunchy, loosely tied to science, blog that our bodies function in a way that craves the things which continue us on our current state. (Defense: I googled homeostasis and the definition that came up validated these claims. Those crunchy, loosely-tied-to-science people are on to something.)

For example, if you’ve indulged in a BK Chicken Sandwich for dinner a few nights in a row, then whatever the greasy pretend-chicken does to our internal organs, our bodies respond with, “okay, to get more of this, I need more greasy pretend-chicken.” (Full disclosure: the BK Chicken Sandwich was my go-to indulgence when I was pregnant. When everything sounded yucky, the BKCS made my mouth water. It’s my favorite grossest thing ever.)

This rule would help explain the 2-beer rule. Someone once told me that his options were either to stop at 2 beers or give in to the fact that he would be drinking all night. Self-control after 2 beers diminished, and I contribute this to the above mentioned Homeostasis Rule. Your drunken body continues to crave more of what has made it drunken.

Looking at the world through this lens explains my weird sister when she says “I crave a salad” because she’s uncontrollably healthy. Her body is functioning in a state that craves things like nutrients from fresh, raw vegetables. Also, those of us who crave bread-y carbs probably have the least amount of self control after eating one or two rolls.

In Rob & Kristen Bell’s new book, The ZimZum of Love, they make the point that the energy between two married people (or any people, really) operates in much the same fashion. If love and goodwill is happening, the relationship continues to grow in love and goodwill. If frustration, anxiety and contempt is circulating, than it breeds that downward spiral.

Perhaps our bodies, minds and spirits (and even organizations) operate much in the same way: we crave more of our current state, even when we don’t actually want our current state to continue.

<<Insert comment about over-tired toddlers that can’t get to sleep 2 hours after bedtime.>>

Image by m. a. r. c. used with permission via CC.

Image by m. a. r. c. used with permission via CC.

To make a grand, sweeping generalization, most people want change or want to change. We want something different. We want to lose 10 pounds, be a better friend, have a closer connection with our spouse, be more present with our children and have more time for causes that hold significant meaning in our lives. We want these things. Wanting change is the problem for only a small population of people. (Side note: in my opinion, if we granted those with addictions this kind of perspective, we would be practicing a bit more of Jesus’ idea of grace, attributing the problem less to character and more to our human nature.)

The problem isn’t wanting change. The challenge comes in when we have to start doing the things that would lead to change. We have to get out a skillet and cook instead of another BK Chicken Sandwich. We have to leave the bar instead of getting a 3rd beer. We have to compliment our partner on something we truly value about him, instead of nagging them about the trash he left on the counter. Some of these things are very hard to do in practice.

Our nature craves consistency even when our hearts crave change.

Perhaps acknowledging this homeostasis vortex will give us the courage to start. And if the theory is correct, our victories will lead to greater victories later on. Not without a few stumbles and failures, we should note. But getting out of our Homeostasis craving cyclone is a change in trajectory, built upon small victories over time.

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