What if?

A few months ago, I did a Beth Moore study on Esther. One major theme that stuck out to me:  Esther was faced with a terrifying situation, watch her people be massacred; or face near-certain-death in revealing herself to be one of them, a Jewess, and trying to defend them. After clearly struggling with this impossible decision and having everyone pray and fast for her, she emerges, proclaiming, "If I perish, I perish." One lesson from this seems to be that even when we face our worst fears, God is present. Amen.

So then I was more recently considering the story of Jonah. And again, we have a worst fear realized, going overboard in a ship during a storm and being swallowed by a whale. I was afraid of swimming in deep ends in the dark when I was a kid because I was so terrified of creepy creatures in watery depths, even in man-made-pools (creative imagination I guess). I can not imagine the horror Jonah must have felt as he watched those jaws closing in around him. And perhaps again, we learn the same lesson. Even in the belly of the whale, God is present. Amen.

So what is your worst fear? Which "What if?" keeps you from moving forward with boldness into a place you should perhaps be stepping into? Here are a few of my worst fears, other than being attacked by deep-water creatures of course:
"What if those people reject and ridicule me?"
"What if I have to make it on my own without my husband?"
"What if my child dies?"

So the crazy thing about Jonah, is that in subjecting Jonah to a-worst-possible-thing, God was also preserving his life so that he could live out the most-glorious-thing. Thrashing around in the ocean during an intense storm? So many ways a body could drown and die in a scene like that. But Jonah didn't die.

I think of the book Outliers, or, because I was too lazy to read this as a book, the documentary film series, Guns, Germs, and Steel. One of the major take-a-ways for me in both of these was that the people who had endured the roughest suffering, came through as greater stars, as stronger survivors, or as more useful and potentially God-glorifying tools (that's my own imposition on the raw material there).

Perhaps: It is not in spite of the whale that Jonah becomes a hero, it is not because he was punished in the belly of the whale that Jonah learns his lesson, but it is because God used the most terrifying prospect to preserve Jonah that he might be able to go on to do God's work. Just like so many other biblical heroes. And scarier still, just like He might do for me some day.

My prayer: if the day comes that I have to face one of my worst "what if?" I hope I will be able to respond and say, "If I perish, I perish," and have faith that the realization of my worst fears might actually be an instrument of protection and preservation from the fears I could not even have imagined, like missing an opportunity to participate in God's glory.

Sabbath Sunday: Amen and Amen!

This Sunday, I am finally going to a church service for the first time in a month (travel/volunteer duties have gotten in the way). yay! I am also spending some time in prayer for friends, including praising God for my friend, Kathleen, whose story I'd love to share with you here.

I unfortunately don't feel like I have the most bold or impressive capacity for faith, even though Faith is my middle name, and one might think it would be a discipline I would have worked harder at. But I do marvel at it in others.

I am in a women's bible study where we're currently using some Beth Moore study materials. A couple of months ago, Beth challenged us to consider whether there was something we'd been praying for, for a long time, but gave up praying for just when God might have been ready to give us what we'd been longing for? This was in the context of Zechariah [Luke 1] wanting a son, and ultimately receiving one, John the Baptist.

I can tend to get dismissive about these types of bible study questions that get personal, and lean more towards focussing on the cerebral challenges. But my friend Kathleen took the question seriously. She shared with our group that when she first moved into town, she was praying for her husband to get a teaching job close enough to home that he wouldn't need to take a long commute. The close proximity would support their desired life style of using the car less and spending more time together as a family. She prayed and she prayed for a long time, and after much waiting, he got a teaching job and everyone rejoiced, and she stopped praying about it.

Thing is, the teaching job was not close to home, and he had to spend hours a day carting himself back and forth. But challenged by the study's question, Kathleen wondered if she's settled too quickly, if she'd given up believing that God had something better for her family if she could just have faith and patience. So she took her prayers up again. And she charged our whole group to join her. And she charged all the groups she knew that got together praying regularly. And we all prayed.

Here's the thing, we live in a really small town. There are not multiple schools for each age level, just one elementary/middle/high. Not a ton of teaching jobs to go around. Many of us had been involved in a group trying to address budget shortfalls the district was anticipating. We knew just how grim things looked. Millions of dollars behind, the only thing that seemed likely was more cuts/layoffs/over-crowded classrooms. There was a big part of me that was mostly smiling and nodding as Kathleen prayed, but I prayed alongside her. I mostly prayed, wondering how God would teach her to change her desires because it seemed so unlikely that He would fulfill them so specifically.

She knows God is not a vending machine. She knows full well that we don't just get everything we want. And still, she had faith that if she was honest enough to let God into that very intimate, private place, where her deepest desires and greatest ambitions lay, that God might deign to bless her in just the way she wanted. That's scary. That's bold. That's a big emotional, spiritual, and (as she invited us into the project) social risk. And she went for it anyways. Part of the process involved praying that God would give her enough faith to keep praying for this thing. 

And then this community group's organizing paid off and a new school budget was voted in. A school budget that involved hiring two new teachers for the district. One of those positions got swooped up right away. The one left was in the age group where Kathleen's husband had experience. Exactly one shot. And it was one shot more than most of us dreamed would have been possible. So he applied, and as I'm sure you're not surprised by now, we just found out, he got the job!

More often than not, when I pray, God doesn't give me exactly what I want. He molds me through the process. But had I given up believing that God wants to satisfy our desires, here and now?

I'm just amazed by my friend's boldness in prayer. I think it speaks so highly of how God is growing her faith and her heart. In addition to the spiritual triumph, I think this is also a beautiful story of marriage. I think one of the most important things spouses need to do is support one another's dreams. Even if your partner doesn't believe his/her dream is realizable, we need to keep faith, in both them and in God, that their best is within reach. Kathleen showed herself to be an ambitious wife, a visioning mother (chasing after a lifestyle that enabled more family time), and faithful daughter of God. And I just can't help but celebrate the amazing woman that she is. She encourages and inspires me, and I hope her story can inspire you too.

What long standing prayer do you need to revive and revisit with God right now? Can I join you in praying for that thing? Because I am learning to have a bit more faith now, and this prayer thing is so exciting to be a part of!

Cooking with Zoe: Feeding a Crowd

Most of the time, I prefer my social get togethers to be small, intimate affairs where good rich conversation can take place. But some circumstances just call for feeding a big crowd all at once. For me, figuring out how to feed and seat a crowd is super stressful. But perhaps the stress heightens my awareness. I was in the midst of stressing out about feeding a crowd recently when I read the story in John about Jesus feeding the crowd. 


Something I don't remember being taught about this meal, is about when this miraculously satisfying meal took place. Check it out with me, the book of John in the gospels, chapter 6, verses 1-14. Look at verse 4, the festival of Passover was near. The reason there are huge numbers of people around is because they've come to celebrate Passover at the Temple. But instead of going to partake in Passover, (the ceremony that remembered God passing over the Jews who had marked their homes with lambs blood in Egypt, sparing their lives when death passed by) they gather around to be near Jesus. 


The notes in my bible summarize this scene by saying, "Jesus replaces the Passover." Certainly I'd studied before that Christ was the Passover Lamb in His death and resurrection, that ultimately allows God to Pass-Over us, seeing Christ's righteousness instead of our sinfulness. But well before His death, people were turning to Him functionally as the Messiah whether or not they consciously understood Him as the Lamb of God in this sense. 


And more specifically, not only does Jesus substitue the event of Passover, these people came to Jesus instead of coming to the Temple. Check out John 2:19-22. In these verses, Jesus makes a cryptic reference to Himself as the Temple. I love how one scholar I read put it lately, the Temple [and Jesus-as-Temple] was the place where Heaven (God's realm) and Earth (Man's realm) overlapped. In verse 22, it says that only after His resurrection did this click for the disciples, that Jesus was the Temple, the means of access to the presence of God. And yet, this crowd that Jesus feeds, they go to Jesus during the festival that called for them to go to the Temple. And with Jesus, they eat. 


wo. 


Did they get it? Did they get that they WERE going to the Temple when they followed Jesus? Or was God just illustrating something through them without them even knowing what they were doing? Probably the later. Either way, that's pretty cool. 


Ok, now skip ahead to the Last Supper where we are back at the Passover, sharing a meal with Jesus again. Jesus is breaking bread and passing the wine around talking about how His body was going to be broken for them and that they should continue to take this meal and remember Him. 

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, ²⁴ and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” ²⁵ In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” ²⁶ For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

Again, a meal with Jesus at the time of the Passover. Again, like in John 2, Jesus is referencing his to-be-broken body, Jesus as the Temple. And we have this instruction to perpetuate this ceremony in the observance of communion. So how do we put this all together, Jesus-Passover-Temple-Communion? 

For modern day Christians, the Temple equivalent is the church building. And for some long-time christians, or those simply walking in christian culture, the building can start to feel hollow. Maybe this was also true for Jews when Jesus stepped in. They'd been going through a great deal of trouble to construct this temple, and yet something was missing . . .


The five thousand diners probably didn't get it, but in choosing to gather with Jesus, they participated in Jesus becoming the Passover and in Jesus being the Temple. Jesus demonstrates that He is the source of true sustenance (John 6:26 "I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves") at the same time as He is becoming the place of true worship, and true access to God. And when the disciples participated in the Lord's Supper, they too partake in Jesus as Passover and proclaim Jesus as the true Sacrificial Lamb. 

So then when we participate in Communion, what is it we are doing? When we authentically participate in communion, whether or not we recognize the significance, we are a) loving one another, b) loving God, and c) glorifying Christ as the means of our access to God and true love of one another. 


We are joining with the saints before, the five thousand diners, the disciples, and the people in the seats around us on that given Sunday to worship God, to enjoy direct access to God, to accept Jesus as the sacrifice for our sins, and to realize true love. Most truly in Communion we become the Body of Christ, the Church. 

Church is not a temple building, because Jesus is the Temple. Church is not a religious ceremony, because being with Jesus has replaced the Passover. Church is not keeping our gifts to ourselves, because when a little boy shares his food, everyone eats. And when Jesus shares the food that is the sacrifice of His Body, everyone's truest hunger is satisfied. 

Church is not an individualistic spiritual experience*, because Communion, remembering Jesus, is "com" = with, together, "unus" = oneness, union; united together. It is in this togetherness, reconciled with each other that we are able to come together reconciled with God. 

Church is a group eating together. Church is Jesus satisfying the needs of a crowd. Church is where we do communion. 


Church is where we do love.


And when we do love, when we rightly do church, we are loving God, we are bringing Him glory.

Matthew 22:34-40

"Teacher, which is the great commandment in the Law?" And [Jesus] said to him, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.' This is the great and foremost commandment. The second is like it: 'You shall love you neighbor as yourself.' On these two commandments depend the whole Law and the Prophets."

Together, remembering Christ; Together, with Christ; 
Together, with all the saints beside and before, we are the Church. 

*a small intimate meal, if you will; though in Christianity we certainly have space for private intimate times with God; that's just not Church

Love is hard.

Have any other parents out there experienced these thoughts racing through your mind, "How did I let this happen?" ["this" being parenthood] I remember a point in my pregnancy when the gravity of the idea of parenting fell down on me like a ton of bricks. I was signed up and committed to this daunting, harrowing, journey. There was no turning back. And that was in the midst of a pregnancy that was 200% planned and intentional. Apparently at least 40% of pregnancies in the U.S. are unintentional. So I'm guessing there is a non-zero amount of parents out there who can identify with me.

It's not the predominant thought in my mind related to my child, but it has come up several times. Parenting is just hard. There is an overwhelming quantity of advice out there about how to get your kid to sleep, how to get them into Harvard, how to prepare the best foods for them. There's also loads of advice about how to help your kids get along well with their siblings, how to handle bullies, how to have good manners and respect their elders, even how to learn to love God. Good relational pursuits. And yeah, we need some of that because we're desperate for help in getting the best life for our kids. But you know what I'm struck by lately? I'm struck by the lack of support in all the dialogue about how to help parents just love their kids.

Maybe it is too scary to admit that loving our kids can be hard. I know it is hard for me to admit this, especially in a public space like this, but it's true. It is hard to admit there has ever been a moment, much less, momentS, where I wasn't totally thrilled at the prospect of being Sofia's mom for life. But it's true. Are we in some sort of parenting cult where we have to make it look like it's the greatest thing ever so all the childless people out there will go out and make more babies? "Misery loves company" or something like that? Am I afraid that if I admit this, that someone will deem me unfit and come to take away my child? That last one is a bit closer to the truth. And even more core to the fear around this admission is the prospect that Sofia would find this out someday and wonder if it means that I do not love her.

But I do.

I do love her. I do love her father. I do love my own parents, my sister, my friends. AND, sometimes, loving any and all of these people can be really, really hard. Sometimes I lose my patience. Sometimes I feel really hurt, physically or emotionally. Sometimes I feel like the way I'm being treated is really unjust. Sometimes I feel like other people don't deserve my love. Sometimes I get very angry.

And it is hard to see past a wall of fire in my eyes to a human being on the other side that I do need to keep on loving. It is hard to push past utter exhaustion to find the energy to attend to another's needs. It is hard to remain tender with a screaming writhing banshie who just won't cooperate. It is hard to stick by the side of a person you care for who seems so committed to their own self-destruction, and a bit of your destruction too, while they're at it. Love is so stinking hard.

So when someone tells me what I'm doing as a mom is "so important," I feel flattered, but honestly, it is just too vague to help me through those hard moments. And when someone tells me that there is purpose in my parenthood because it'll help me meet and minister to other parents, that doesn't do much to help me find patience with my child when I'm home alone with no other parents to witness our interaction. If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know I've been struggling with this for a long time. You know that God has done some work in my heart to encourage me in these hard moments. And it is still hard. So He is faithful to keep giving me more encouragement that I so deeply need.

I was studying Luke 1 the other day, reading the story of this guy, Zechariah, who was an old priest who'd been praying for years and years and years for he and his wife, Elizabeth, to have a kid. The one day in his life comes up, when he gets to offer incense and enter the sanctuary of the Lord. He goes in, and the angel Gabriel shows up to have a chat with him. After four hundred years of silence from God, no signs, no prophecies, no nothing, God breaks the silence for this scene.

Gabriel tells Zechariah that he and Elizabeth are going to have a baby boy, John, that will be filled with the Holy Spirit, have the power of Elijah, and he will prepare the way for the Messiah. Wo. This son he has always wanted and had maybe mostly given up hope for ever having was going to till the soil of the hearts of Israel so that they would be prepared to receive Jesus and to believe in Him as their savior. Wo. Wo. Wo.

Israel's hearts were so disobedient that God had cut off communication for 400 years. And now after 400 years of silence, I imagine their spiritual receptors could have been rather dried up. So how was John going to re-open those hearts that they could see God? I'm expecting to hear things like reminding them of the prophecies about the Christ, remind them of the law and how it reveals their need for a savior, remind them that they are supposed to be a people holy and set apart. So let's see what Gabriel says, check out Luke 1:17:

"With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before Him (the Messiah), to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord."

Definitely some reference back to old prophets, wisdom, righteousness. But what sticks out to me is this bit, "turn the hearts of parents to their children." Seems really out of left field in this context. What does that have to do with anything? Not a note in my bible of explanation. Thankfully, my friend's bible commentary was more helpful and pointed us to Malachi 4:5-6, the very last word from God before the 400 years of silence:

"Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse."

So it is not just a random insertion. It's the last word spoken before the 400 years of silence, first word spoken after, like bookends. So it seems like there could be something really important about it.

It wouldn't have been said if it were unnecessary. If it were super easy for parents to love their kids, why would this be so important for John to do? So for one, this feels like validation of the challenge to love kids, I can breathe a little sigh of relief for having that feeling sometimes.

But for two, look at the purpose of doing so. Verse 16 of Luke 1 says, "He (John) will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God." How many people find it hard to want to get anywhere near Christians because Christians have been so unloving towards them or they've witnessed Christians being so unloving towards others? How many people can identify with the struggle to love God as "Father," because their own father/parent wasn't very loving? When parents abuse or neglect their children, broadly speaking, those children have a hard time with love as they go about their life. And similarly, broadly speaking, when parents love their children, those children grow into people who know better how to receive and give love with other people. But I also believe it becomes more natural to receive the love of God. Apparently it is even a key component in helping to prepare a heart, maybe the parent's, maybe the child's, to receive Christ as savior, if I'm reading these verses correctly. So . . .

Loving my kid is hard, AND, loving my kid is really important.

I can try my hardest to feed her well, keep her healthy, make her brilliant, make her an athletic star, make her the most popular and beloved person in the world, and I'm going to fail to a greater or lesser extent in all of these pursuits. But if I can just love her to the best of my ability, maybe that'll be enough to open her heart to God, who will meet all of her truest and deepest needs without failing. When I do the hardest work, loving her, I am nurturing a heart to be receptive to a greater love than my own, a love that can push past the most unlovable characteristics and behaviors, a love that can help my child become her best possible self.

Dear fellow parents, who sometimes feel bewildered, who feel daunted by the road that lies ahead, who are all too familiar with the end of their ropes, who are afraid to admit that loving their kid is hard, and who need to know all the blood, sweat, and tears are worth the effort, take courage. There is great great significance in the love that you are about to give and have been giving to each of your children. This love in and of itself is Kingdom work. 


Dear Parents, Dear Children, let's let love come in. 


P.S. I also find great encouragement in work of the Kingdom of God, in that the work itself has important significance, but just as God's love is infinite, so the work of God seems to infinitely grow. Even though the work is significant in itself, it also tends to be a preparation for a greater work to come, and that's how the Kingdom grows, one building block at a time. 

Reader Request: Zoe's (not-so-secret) Garden (Part II)

Dear Erin,


I had so much I wanted to share with you about my garden, I've had to spread out my pictures and thoughts a bit. So here's part II of my garden report . . .


Part II: This is not my home

As we start to get some handle on where we expect real plants to spring up and where we have space to cultivate our own creations, Sofia and I have been hard at work weeding, preparing soil, planting seeds, and watering. 

Sofia pulling out dead stalks to make way for new growth
Child labor may be cheap, but it's not the most effective ;)

our most exciting new investment for the garden: 

our compost! 

naming suggestions welcome. 

there's so much work to do, but we have to take photo-breaks every now and then ;)

Our biggest project remains clearing out the wild overgrowth in the back of the yard. It is like a miniature forest of dead stalks, litered with so much trash that has blown into it over years. I've found over 15 balls for Sofia to play with. One tennis ball had been buried in there for so long that the fuzz had completely decomposed. It was entirely bald. 

It is completely understandable that what was once a beautiful and well loved garden plot would turn into such chaos when the property started getting rented out. I know at least the last family that lived here was double income with multiple kids, so I doubt they had any time to worry about the land they were going to leave within the year. I do not at all fault them for thinking, "this is not my home." 

That phrase is actually the main punchline of a chorus I've heard on the radio too much lately. It embodies this idea that Christians don't belong here, they're just waiting to get to Heaven. But as you and I have discussed, I recently read Surprised by Hope, by N.T. Wright, and it's really helped me view that eschatology (which you, divinity student that you are, would explain to me as "the theological study of the end of things") differently. You've read it, [or Lobsters, if you haven't, I hope you'll consider reading it!] so you know, but the point that's relevant here is about how Jesus was actually telling us that the Kingdom of God, Heaven, was present when He was here, and as His people, we are presently bringing Heaven into the world (this article actually articulated the point in a way that was helpful, and shorter than reading all of Surprised by Hope, if you're interested - or confused). When we are doing God's work, we bring about the Kingdom, see Jesus speaking in Luke 10:8-9

When you enter a town and are received, eat what they set before you, heal anyone who is sick, and tell them, 'God's kingdom is right on your doorstep!

[taken from the Message]

Wright explains that not only is Heaven here and now, when we're doing God's work, but also, when Jesus returns, it will be to transform this earth, and these bodies we live in to be like His resurrected body was here. (Lobsters, this was really heavy for me to take in, so don't just trust my notes, go through the book, it's worth it.) So what that means is, where I used to feel like, "this (earth) is not my home," and therefore disregarded the health of my physical body, or the way I treated the environment around me, I now have good theological reasons for investing in the eternal home that is here before me, that will be fully restored one day. 

I've decided to start living this out in the tiny step of investing in this home I'm renting. It is worth taking care of. So I'm pulling out the weeds and debris, I'm planting my own seeds, and I'm tackling that overgrowth little bits at a time, but with persistence. 

And to my surprise, our labor is already paying off. After a good rain, we went outside and discovered little signs of life breaking forth:

if i manage not to kill this, 
it will hopefully give us some squash

for Sofia, who LOVES green beans.

But I recently got the best encouragement I could have imagined for my gardening. Because the college owns the house, they also have technical responsibility for the yard. When a guy came through mowing the lawn, I gave him a friendly wave. He stopped his mower, and excitedly offered to give me a tour of my yard. I'd certainly found some treasures on my own, but he's apparently tended it for years and knew so much more than I would have ever figured out independently. Turns out, our house is the only fruit-bearing faculty home. We have plum, apple, and peach trees! And as we walked back toward the overgrowth, he told me it used to be this fabulous miniature strawberry field. We sifted through some of the weeds and sure enough, found these big beautiful green leaves of strawberry plants. He said these were the leaves of plants that had been well cultivated by their original gardeners. I'm so excited to watch them grow!

As we walked around back there, I was embarrassed by my giant piles I'd been raking together. I've been nervous that I was creating more work for him and his co-workers, creating obstacles for them to mow around or potentially making them feel obligated to clean up my mess [I am able to get the process started, but often get interrupted from seeing it through, due to the needs of a certain little person you know]. But you know what he said? He said, "oh no! It is just so great that someone finally cares enough to take care of these plants! I'm totally happy to help clear away your piles, I'll be back in a day or two with my truck!" He was so eager and delighted and I was so encouraged and empowered. And sure enough, a few days later, the piles were neatly cleaned up, despite constant rain.

Don't you think, what Jesus was saying in Luke was sort of the same thing? Whenever we love and care for one another and this creation He's made for us and allowed us to live in, that whenever we obey Him and do as the Father instructs, He is so delighted that we are in essence owning this as our home, because we are bringing forth and making visible the Kingdom of God here and now in part, what will one day reign in full. Even if we usually make a mess of things in our efforts, He's the knowledgeable gardener*, so happy to work alongside us and bring forth the good fruit. Maybe he's even happy when Sofia and I are out in our little garden together, loving each other while we work. It certainly helps this feel more like home!


I hope you enjoy these photos and thoughts. Thank you for taking a sweet interest in our garden!


Love,
zoe faith

Jeremiah 29:28

Therefore build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce.

*See John 20: ¹¹ Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb ¹² and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

¹³ They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” ¹⁴ At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

¹⁵ He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

Tired.

I was so very very tired. With some nights where Sofia was up on average every fifteen minutes, and a stretch where she was up 2-5 times for a couple weeks in a row, I hadn't caught a break. I was totally broken. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Open, raw, and fairly brain dead. The weeks before when I actively pursuing each day as opportunities to foster Sofia's development felt like a confusing foggy memory, perhaps just a hazy glimpse into someone else's life. Enriching development was beyond my reach, it was now just a matter of keeping my head above water, at least for most of the day. By this point, if I got past 4pm without having to call Manny in desperation to come home to make sure we all survived, I considered the day a success.

My two saving graces were 1) getting outside, where nature did the entertaining of Sofia for me and 2) reading books, where someone else gave me words to get from one moment to the next. We resorted to both of these activities often. But with so many dangerous objects outside that Sofia loves to shove into her mouth, outside eventually becomes too exhausting, especially when there's snow, so the children's books in our house got some mighty good mileage.

One of my favorites to return to over and over again is The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name. A children's bible is supposed to just be filled with all those familiar stories that you want to pass on to your young children. And sure enough one afternoon, I found myself reading to Sofia the story of the children coming to Jesus (from Matthew 19). And you know what stuck out to me in that moment, where I could barely keep my eyes open, and it was like plowing through sludge to move from one moment to the next? It's not in the gospels, but the way this author tells it, the disciples rebuke the people who let the children get close because Jesus is busy and TIRED. And of course! He must have been tired, traveling all around, people coming at Him from every angle trying to challenge Him with tricky questions, asking for so much from Him, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. Ok, maybe in reality, He was or He wasn't. I can't say or know. But as I read that story, I felt like God showed me that statistically speaking, an adult in a child's presence is probably a bit exhausted. Children = tired adults. And in that way, tired as all get out, Jesus received and loved children. And in that same way, I can receive my little Sofia and love her too.

Snuggle up little one, time for another story. 

Looking back, Looking forward

On New Years Day, in visiting a dear friend, we got to introduce our babies to each other. Except my baby isn't a baby any more, and her baby was truly a baby, only two weeks old at the time. What a blessing. What a joy life is. What a mystery, how life comes to be. All mixed together were my sympathies for a difficult labor, my ecstasy for the abundant love coursing between mother-child-husband-father-wife, my appreciation for a husband who cared so lovingly for my dear friend, my respect for a woman who cared so lovingly for her child, my comfort at seeing an old friend, and an intense sense of overwhelm in realizing that we were once there(ish) and are now in such a different place.


Somehow, for me, this picture [above] captured so much of what I was feeling. Sofia, neck firm, brain spinning with curiosity, eyes at attention, discovering, wondering, learning independently about this baby whose only volition is to absorb her mother's love and care and neck support. Were we ever there? New parents, just home with a newborn, minds still spinning from labor and sleep deprivation and joy and wonder and shock. Less than a year before that day, we were there, and yet I can barely fathom it, barely bring back that memory from the fog.


It occurred to me that throughout my whole pregnancy, I did no let myself believe there would actually be a baby at the end of the process. I was so fearful, no, so sure, that I would miscarry like my maternal grandmother. When we got past the point of miscarriage being possible, I became convinced I would deliver a still born like my paternal grandmother. When had to go to the hospital because the baby I was pregnant with was in distress, there was a real part of me preparing for leaving that hospital empty handed. But I did not. I walked out of that hospital with a fragile life-filled baby in arms. I hugged my nurse goodbye, and went home and filled my house with all that love I was witnessing a year later in my friend's cottage by the sea. But, I had thought, that was already more than I deserved. Certainly, it had all been too good to be true. Certainly, SIDS would find us, and it was only a matter of time before I lost my precious. (don't think the Lord of the Rings allusion in that term, and the desperation and idolatry that surrounds it wasn't lost on me each time I uttered it over my child)


But a year later, there I was, witnessing my lively daughter, witnessing another new life. At what point will I accept this gift? Why do I instead accept these shackles of fear so readily? When will I accept this life that has been given to me. When will I let myself look forward, to dream for her future, wonder what life holds for her? When will I stop holding my breath, paralyzed in the present moment, fearful that it will vanish like the air I refuse to exhale?


For a time I did not believe she'd ever smile at me. For a time, I couldn't imagine she would ever sit up on her own. I believed she would sleep swaddled in wings forever. I was convinced she would spend eight hours a day nursing for eternity. As each stage came, I settled into it as if it were my new, permanent way of life. Perhaps I'm so busy adjusting to each change, that this underlying shift is too much to grasp: life is forever changing. Certainly there is a sense in which this year has been nothing but a series of goodbyes. Gone are the days of supporting her neck, supporting her sitting, swaddling her arms,  and holding on tight with two hands while she tries to walk. Gone are the days of sleeping in, of spontaneous carefree choices about how to spend my time, long extended periods of quiet ended only by my own choice. It has been a year of endings. 


And the endings will continue to come, some possible and some certain. My fears are not fully irrational. But the problem has been that I have not been able to see beyond them. They have blocked my view. It is true. My daughter, our love, it is more than I deserve. 


And yet, it has also been a year of constant beginnings. Hello to the intimacy of three, not just two. Hello to new discovery, new laughter, new joy. Hello to a new me, less concerned with me. Hello to a new husband, exuding more love, more devotion. Hello to a new home, new friends, an entirely new way of life. 


My present is beautiful, it is precious. And still, I must learn to loosen my grasp, to hold it more lightly. Because without my hands open, I can not receive what the future holds, what my true Precious has in store for me. For He desires to give me every good gift. But when my fingers wrap tight, when my knuckles burn white, how can the gift come in? 


What if a year ago I refused to move forward into a future where she smiled at me? What if I didn't let her learn to sit up, roll, crawl, walk? What if I did not let her away from me, unclasped from my arms? Then she could not come running back into me, arms wide open, outstretched, to receive her smiling-giggling-leaping little self, crashing into me with a force of love I've never known. 

Life is perpetually coming to be. I need to open my arms to receive this. I need to open my mind; I need to humble my heart, realizing I don't know where the new joy might be coming from. It is only mine to release and to receive. I need to open my eyes, see past the fear, and allow myself to look forward to what new life is yet to come.   

Eat snow

Today, I had one goal: shop for groceries. 

Today's list of accomplishments: groceries shopped, snow eaten. 

I guess that makes it a good day, I would like to collect my bonus points now, thank you. 

I've been spending more time than I anticipated meditating on my incapacity to come up with a resolution for this year. I had lots of time to think about it this weekend when we went on this retreat, you know, the one where I was not joining a cult? They provided child care, which meant I had more waking hours away from Sofia than ever before in our lives. It was emotionally distressing at several points, I suffered worse from separation anxiety than she did I think, but it also provided enough space for me to be able to start forming coherent thoughts for the first time in - I don't want to calculate exactly how long. 

One of the retreat exercises included meditating on John 5:1-17 & Isaiah 5:1-7. In summary: Jesus is the vine, we are the branches, God is the gardener. God does the pruning that we might allow the life of Christ to flow through us and bear fruit. When we don't remain in Him, bad things happen. There is a whole lot of meat in these passages, a great deal of high minded, spiritual profound meat. But you know what God needed to teach me this specific weekend? The simple lesson that my life needs some pruning, and by my life, I mean my to-do list. 

I had two majors in college and went to grad school in an entirely different area. I've held jobs in about ten different fields, and have had career aspirations in about five times as many fields. I'm all over the place. On a prideful day, I like to think I just have so much to give the world, that's why I'm so "diversified." But on a day like I had this weekend, I was humbled and had to admit I'm just spreading myself too thin to be worthwhile in anything. I think I'm just grasping for worth, wallowing in insecurity about my identity. I keep thinking I have this figured out, and keep coming back around, face to face with God's truth, that I'm not secure in the right things. 

So I sat down in the still quiet time, sans squealing babe, that has become so unfamiliar. I brainstormed the list of "projects" I feel like I'm juggling these days. In less than ten minutes, I had 30 items on my list. thirty. ugh. No wonder I am always wracked with anxiety/anger/fear/despair when Sofia wakes up from a nap and I haven't had enough time to get "it all" done. I went back through the list, anxiously, but prayerfully, and started making the hard decisions about projects I need to let go of. I could only let go of about half. But when I got honest, there were only about six that were bearing fruit. Only about six that seemed truly of the Spirit. A few others might be worth returning to another day, but I am deciding to focus on these six and work to let go of the other things tugging at my heart/mind/creativity/sense of obligation. Talk about separation anxiety. 

But I'm supposed to honoring God in all I do, I have to remain in Him, I have to humbly submit myself to Him to be pruned. So, we'll see how I manage. Can't say I feel too secure or comfortable in this new zone just yet. But today I kept it to one goal for the day, and that goal got accomplished, and then some. A goal that supports one of my six key projects. So I will accept that today was a good day. Dear Lobsters, if you love Jesus, would you pray with me that I would survive some pruning so that God might bear fruit through me? Thanks much.