Category: Uncategorized (Page 17 of 188)

Busy Victims

Nothing jazzes me more than talking big picture ideas – like how to make discipleship a practical reality in our faith community. What does that look like? How do we get there? What would that mean for the people here? The pastor walked up to the white board and I got all happy-clappy. 

The idea of discipleship as a lifestyle became part of my DNA through college, thanks to the vision of @RealBMac. It’s a value system. Though I’ve not been able to enter in a formal relationship at every stage of my life since, I have actively sought out younger women to give time and attention to, usually by meeting up for coffee, ice cream or even going for a run. Though sometimes exhausting (oh, teenagers…), I’ve come to view it as one of the the most important things I can do to live out my faith.
As we discussed discipleship and the freedom that comes with a campus schedule – oh to be 21 again! – the pastor bravely said, “I think we’re too quick to throw out that model simply because people are busy.” 
A-to-the-men
I get that people have jobs and kids and commitments. We do! This is part of life, and a good life. An evening of Two and a Half Men reruns every night would be an obscenely boring way to live. So we invest in schools and clubs and running programs and drinks with a friend. We volunteer with the PTA or join the VBS team at church. These are beautiful things that return us home at 10pm exhausted and wondering why we can’t just have dinner as a family anymore. 
This Beautiful Struggle: Stop the glorification of busy
But stop. Seriously. We’ve glorified these wonderful things to the point where “I”m so busy” has become a badge. Although we all feel we simply cannot take on another thing, we’ve given honor to the frantic rat race because our society has taught us to believe if we’re not SO BUSY than we’re not doing something right. Your kids will never get into college, be able to swing a bat in public, or they may just end up in jail if they’re not socially awkward freaks. 
I contend that busyness is not a state of the calendar but of the mind. Busy is when your calendar bosses you around, rather than you directing your time and energies wisely (a Fruit of the Spirit, according to Galatians 5 in The Message). Busy comes when you forfeit control for the sake of what you’re told is best. 
When a person utters “but we can’t just…” then it’s a clear sign of the glorification of busy. The events and activities of our lives have begun to control us rather than complement the life we’re given. We have been taught we cannot say no to the basketball coach, the church ministry, the overnight or the fundraiser. But it’s a lie: we can. And we should. 
My friends, have no shame in saying it: That doesn’t fit for what is best for our family right now. 
We love the idea, but have other priorities. 
How about another time? 
We cannot do this, but how can we support you in other ways? 
I can hear the parents of older children already… “just you wait.” I get that my non-involved 5-year-old makes this an easy message to preach. But no lobster stays swimming in boiling water – it dies after the pot warms over time. 
After reading The Price of Privilege and  The Overachievers, I’m convinced the mentality of “more is better” and “activity equals success” will continue to crush the spirits of our emerging generations*. They might not learn the sacred gift of knowing what enough looks like. More, better, best will race them through life at the cost of beautiful opportunities to experience goodness, all for the sake of winning an imaginary prize to the top. 
Fill your days with events and activities that grow you. This can even mean the things which are not our favorite, but are best. But live as if you actually have a voice, if not the voice, in deciding how to spend your time. When we begin to live not as victims of an unruly calendar we may find just how much joy these hours will bring us.  
*Hey church. I’m looking right at you, too. The softball team doesn’t have a corner on this market. 


*H*

Love & Faithfulness Win: A letter to my children

Dear Children,

I recently wrote some letters – to you, about you – mostly addressing your “someday” relationships. Let me say that I’m praying for these. I never knew how big I had won this prize, but year after year your father blesses me beyond what I imagined. He’s my biggest believer, challenger and supporter. I can’t imagine doing life without him.

And I don’t want you live without such support, challenge and confidence, either. Of course, if it’s the calling to which you find yourself, there’s nothing wrong with singleness. Stay single! Enjoy your freedom! Travel a bit. Cherish deep friendships. You see a different side of life from a lifelong partnership, but we can’t define it as “better” or “worse.”

No, my bigger fear is that you live apart from your lifelong partner because you’re afraid. Afraid of what your father and I will say. Afraid of being forced from the church. Afraid of sin, afraid of labels, afraid of hell.

I want to be very clear about this: there is no one you could love that would cause us – or your God – to stop loving you. In fact, scripture tells us there is no fear in love but perfect love casts off all fear. Although we try our hardest, your parents are guilty of imperfect love – yet God is not.

One of my many places of privilege in this life and world comes having never questioned my attractions, identity or an inclusion in groups of our society. But my story is not the only story. So, dear children, if you find later in life that you tend to be more attracted to someone who shares your gender, I pray fear is not your first reaction. You might be confused or unsure. But your father and I will do our best to make sure fear and shame aren’t part of the equation.

Just to let you know, this might be tough for us. We grew up and live in a culture where the relationships around us tend to be homogeneous in their heterosexual nature. If we appear shaky, blame it on the fact that this is a new experience for us. Even our best intentions could be construed as unsupportive, and we are so very sorry when that hurts.

You don’t disappoint us. Living outside of the way God made you – that’s reason to be disappointed. No, when we don’t know what to say or how to act, it’s because we’re naive, insecure and unprepared. Those are our sins, not yours.

We have enjoyed a beautiful marriage, not because we adhere to the proper penis ratio, but rather it has given us an experience of God’s love and faithfulness. I’ve read the scriptures over and over and over again. Never once do I hear of God choosing a law over love and faithfulness. You might be bashed with verses about “sexual immorality,” but remain clear: living in a committed, faithful relationship reflects God’s nature much more than shouts of shame.

No, those passages address a culture hell-bent on getting what it wants, at the expense of the bodies and souls of other people. Prostitution in the temples, rape culture, and sex as a commodity as opposed to an expression of love – these are the immoral sins our God abhors. Look not too far in our contemporary history and we find a “homosexual lifestyle” linked by name to such a way of life. But we’re finally arriving at a time and place where those terms are divorced and people are finally free to acknowledge different forms of their monogamous love in honest and open ways. Some states even let you make it public, with legal equality. (Wouldn’t it be great if, by the time you read this for real, it was the case for all states? And can we please get on the ball with adoption rights? Because I will want some grandchildren.)

So, my dear child, love, in whatever way that feels truthful to you. Love and faithfulness win every time. And that starts with your parents. We vow to be loving and faithful, no matter what you discover about yourself.

In love and faithfulness,

Mom (& Dad)

You’ve got your hands full

I can take many parts of the SAHM/WAHM life in stride. Figuring out how to transform a pound of raw ground beef into “dinner” has become second nature. Attacking the laundry room floor*, which you suddenly cannot find after one kid starts puking (when you previously thought you were caught up), barely causes me to blink. 

While I can roll with the normal household frustrations, allow me to share the mothering thing that makes me throw things: the neediness. Not necessarily the cup-filling and bun-wiping, but the attention-seeking. The constant chatter from my supreme extrovert. The invasion of my personal time and space prior to 7am, when I feel it’s only fair that I get ONE FLIPPING HOUR because, after all, it’s before dawn
So as the baby decides at 6:15 to get his foot stuck between the crib rails and then the toddler toddles down not even a half hour later, feigning a failure to understand time (or apparently English as she refused to march herself back up the stairs), I want to sink my fingernails into my ears and pull. 
Or, as JJ so politely said this morning, I am not in a good mood. 
The practical stuff can be dealt with because I know I’m living in a transitory state – they will someday grow up and be able to do things like wipe after pooping or even carry down a load of laundry (praise my sweet Jesus, I know this is true and I shall give shouts of acclimation on that very day). The physical ways in which they require my assistance will someday be outgrown. 
The challenge is their need for me to handle their hearts with care. To tend to their emotions and desires and to validate their place in their home, school and world. To give words to their tears and shouts. This is the hard stuff of mothering. You can line up 85 kids and I can take a tissue to every single nose, but the gentle tending of their souls? My friends, sometimes these are so heavy and and I’m deathly afraid of dropping them. I’ve seen the children whose lives have shattered because those who loved much cared little for the ways in which words and deeds affected their home. 
full hands, full heart
Think this is cute? Buy it. 
Every time I go into the grocery store – every. single. time. – someone remarks that I “have my hands full.” Usually I don’t tote all 4 with me so I’m not sure how to respond. And indeed, my hands are full. But not with zipping winter coats or filling a grocery cart the size of a bus full of bananas and diapers (praise Jesus once again for cloth). 
My hands are full of precious little personalities. People, little people, crying out for permission to be included and valued. And as the pin says, if you think my hands are full – you should see my heart. 
Yet a heart swollen with love sometimes accompanies weary shoulders. These souls can be heavy and at times put a few nicks and cuts into my own heart, but such is the task of mothering. If it leaves us the same when we’re all done, we probably haven’t done it quite right. 
*I literally went down to move a load over after writing this. It’s how stuff gets done around here. 
 
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