Sorrow & Suffering

There is a classic Christian novel of sorts called Hinds Feet on High Places. It is a beautiful and treasured story of a little deer-like creature named "Much Afraid" who accepts a seed of hope from her Savior and then sets out on a journey.

This story is precious to many of my friends, speaking to them in rich and powerful ways, so they always look at me a little strange when I tell them that I can't stand the book and was never able to finish it.

I've always known the part that bothered me, the part of the story that stopped me in my tracks so that I couldn't go any further. It is when the Savior tells Much Afraid that he has some traveling companions for her - Sorrow and Suffering - and he wants her to hold their hands on her journey.

I am a very visual person, and the mere thought of this causes my hand to recoil. I know that sorrow and suffering are part of this life. I know that God uses them to teach me many wonderful things, but this imagery makes it seem that my Heavenly Father is a masochist. That he likes to cause us pain, that he says, "Hold their hands, it will be good for you."

And so, I have never finished this book. If you love it, I am glad, I am not arguing that you should not read or love a book that has spoken to so many, I just want to explain what I just realized. The reason I can't stand to read this book, to imagine myself holding the hand of Sorrow and Suffering as I journey through this Christian life, is because the only hand I am willing to hold is Jesus'.

In my sanctified imagination (as Oswald Chambers calls it) I see us walking through the land of Sorrow and Suffering to get to the other side, to get home to Jesus where there will be no more sadness, no more tears. And when I accepted the love and forgiveness of my Savior, I believe that He took my hand, has never let it go, will never let it go until I am safe in his Heavenly Kingdom.

There is something interesting that Fredrick Buechner once said. He said that if he were not a Christian, he would probably be Buddhist (which I thought was an odd thing to say, but his point is good). He said that when you look at the two pillars of these faiths, the fat and happy Buddha, eyes closed, arms down, sitting in comfort, and then at Jesus, agony ripped across his face, arms spread wide on the cross, compassion in his eyes. The crucial difference between these two icons is this: while Buddha closes his eyes to the pain and suffering of this world, Jesus bears it, taking all of our sin, our sorrow, our suffering and experiencing it himself.

My Jesus did not ask my friends to hold the hands of sorrow and suffering as they watched and waited to see if their new born baby would survive a horrible infection. No, He held their hands, filled up their room, surrounded them with love and compassion, and bore their sorrow in his heart. He walked them through the lands of Sorrow and Suffering to bring them to the other side, deeper into His love, stronger in their trust in Him, surrounded by His Church and never alone.

This is what I know about my Jesus: He does not delight in our pain, but rather He walks with us through it and then does something beautiful with His miraculous magic - He redeems it.

Ch-ch-ch-Changes

So, this is it.

Today is my last day of freedom. My last day of choosing what I want to do with a portion of my day. The last day of heading out for groceries or a run or to meet up with friends without having to answer to my children. The last day of cleaning the house without little tornadoes of disaster in my wake. My last day of thinking complete thoughts without the interruption of "Gabe is touching my stuff!" or "Josh just fell out of the tree" or "Hope is crying and I don't know why."

This is my last moment at Starbucks to sit and sip my chai while reading and writing and studying to my heart's content.

Tomorrow the kids will be home from school for the summer and on Monday I start my first real full-time job in 13 years.

EEK!

I'm excited and terrified all at the same time. I feel like it's my first day of kindergarten. I went shopping for "professional" clothes and found myself wondering if what I bought was right. I'm hoping that the people at my new job like me, that I will do a good job there, and that my family will be okay with this major transition.

I started looking for a job for the usual reasons: the need for money and insurance. But I think I found one that will be fun and challenging and kind of cool. I get to talk on the radio a little bit, though my kids are disappointed that it's not on their favorite rock station. I explained to them that mommy was taking this job to help our family while daddy finishes school. But I suspect I went a little too far when I expressed my pre-job concern that this year we may not have been able to afford Christmas presents. I personally think we could have had a perfectly lovely present-free Christmas, but I'm also not eight.

Last night Hope prayed, "And God, please help us have money so we don't have to be poor."

Yeah, I'm pretty sure my kids are scarred. Maybe my husband can do their therapy for free once he finishes school.

So, this ends a pretty amazing time of my life. I am forever grateful that I got to be home (mostly) full-time with my kids for the last thirteen years. I am thankful that my husband was willing to sacrifice a lot for me to be home for my family. And I am still amazed that I got to stay home this past school year, even while my kids were in school all day.

Besides some extra time to myself and connecting with friends that I love, I have had time to teach at a women's brunch, two retreats and a Mother's of Preschoolers group. I got to run with my puppy several times a week and spend hours letting my creative juices flow, studying God's word and working on a Bible study.

I went to Italy and got to hear a real Italian exclaim, "Mama Mia!" to my never ending delight, and share exotic food and the love of God with beautiful Chinese students, some of whom are now my sisters in Christ.

I was able to be home to nurse my kids when they were sick, to accompany them on many a field trip and to help out at their schools.

There were pressures and trials, in the midst of the blessings, that very nearly broke me. But God sent friends to help me through and seemed to promise that He is making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. Soon we will be out of this trying time. Soon and very soon.

And so I face my fear of being away from home 40 hours a week and trust in God's unfailing love - that it won't fail me and it won't fail my children while I'm five minutes away in my office, but away none the less.

I will be strong and courageous like my hero Joshua, because just as He was with him, my God will be with me wherever I go.

Tulip Bulbs

Tulips are my favorite flowers for many reasons, not the least of which is because they bloom every year at my birthday and Easter so that I can have a house full of fresh cut flowers on two of my favorite days.

I also love tulips because they come from bulbs which are insanely easy to make grow and they come back year after year. Tulips were my first foray into gardening. I planted twenty-five bulbs one cool fall day and low and behold, by the time April rolled around I had an array of colorful flowers blooming by my front door. I planted more and more every year until now I probably have hundreds that grow every season.

My daughter and I love to give them to friends and neighbors when babies are born, performances end, and to bring a smile to the people we love. Somehow they always seem impressed that they were cut from our own garden. Not actually impressive to be able to grow tulips I think, but sown with love for sure.

This year my children discovered that if they cut a few and gave them out to random neighbors at unexpected times, they received candy in return. Apparently single men feel the need to give something to small children holding flowers on their doorstep. I saw that this was quickly getting out of control any time my kids craved more sweets, so I told them they could no longer give flowers for candy. They are special and should be treated as such.

One other thing I like about tulips is that they come from those hideously ugly, shriveled, garlic-looking bulbs, and then mere months later they turn into a rainbow of beauty. I thought that C.S. Lewis said something about how we are like tulip bulbs now and our incarnate bodies when Christ returns will be like tulips.

I can't find this quote for the life of me, so I may have made it up, but I'm pretty sure Lewis said it, or maybe it was N.T. Wright. Anyway, I like it because I'm feeling very tulip bulbish these days. Dried up, wrinkly, hideous in my own special ways. At times like this I like to remember that this is only for a little while. Maybe God is working His garden, preparing to plant me in His rich soil and patiently wait for me to grow. And then when the time comes, I will be one of His favorite flowers - bright and alive and shining in His sunshine.

Sadly, my tulips are almost all dead now and I really don't have any flowers to take their place. But I came across the verse in Isaiah 40 the other day that says, "the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever."

It brings me hope that someday we'll all be flowers in the garden of our Lord who will never fall again.

Spring Cleaning

Yesterday a trusted friend came over to help me clean out my bedroom. I have been trying to get it organized for months and finally made a call of desperation to bring in reinforcements. My friend had to be trustworthy, otherwise she wouldn't be allowed into my room of clutter.

See, we don't have a basement or an attic to throw all of our extra belongings, keepsakes, etc. in. All we have is a carport with a small storage shed where lawn tools, totes of Christmas decorations and Joel's surf board are stored. So, when I have stuff that I want to keep, I fill another nook in my room. Under the bed is already stuffed full of pictures and duffel bags (covered by a bed skirt of course), behind the chair are miscellaneous craft and teaching supplies, beside the bed are piles of journals (each with its own purpose to fulfill), and don't even think about opening my closet.

They say the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem. Here I am confessing that I am just one nervous breakdown away from being profiled on "Hoarders."

Between my husband's desire to keep everything he's owned since 1987 "just in case" and my sentimentality that has me holding onto every art project my children have ever made, every card Joel has given me in the past 20 years, and every book I have ever bought, we are becoming overwhelmed with "stuff."

My friend has the gift of throwing away, getting rid of and giving to charity. She tried to explain to me the idea that we can appreciate that something has served its purpose, and now its purpose is done. Throw it out. Give it away. Get it out. And as I do I will feel freer.

It's a novel idea. Keeping stuff tends to give me a warm feeling of security, until I have to dust, vacuum around and organize it.

But her theory is already proving to be true. I walk into my room and don't see old picture frames sticking out behind every piece of furniture or piles of books and papers that have been read, but have no home on my overcrowded shelves, and I breath a sigh of relief. Its gone. Done with. I've moved on.

I've been feeling that way about my spiritual life lately as well. Like I've hit a spiritual mid-life crisis, weighed down by the burden of unmet expectations, dashed hopes and unrealized dreams. Of course, I know that the dreams I was dreaming were not necessarily God's, but they were nice fairytale-like visions of Jesus riding in on his big white horse making the lives of all my loved ones better.

Not Biblical, but nice, don't you think?

So here I am left to figure out what to do with all of these things. I don't want to give them away, they are like old friends that I can run to for comfort every time life gets too hard, but burdening me still more when they let me down yet again.

I think of the college students I have loved and led to Christ, but have chosen to walk away. I think of the middle school students living such hard lives that the few hours a day I had to love, care for and teach them could never possibly be enough. And I think of the four growing lives in my home that I cannot possibly protect from all the pain of life to come.

And I wonder what is the point? If I can't make their lives better, then why? And what is God doing?

But lately I feel Him asking me to unpack all of these dreams and expectations and hopes for painless lives and give them to Him. Declutter the recesses of my heart and mind, open the windows of my soul and let his Spirit blow through like the Spring breeze.

And I sense Him promising that it will feel good. That He will set me free. And that when I dream His dreams I will not be disappointed.

I think I'll give it a try.

ER Fun

I am typically a pretty good patient. I'm mostly honest, cooperative and do most of what my doctor says. But I hate taking medicine. I only take it when absolutely necessary, like when my cramps make me want to tear one of my kids heads off, then I think, "maybe I should just take some Advil," and it helps.

I've wondered before if it's that I'm a naturalist, don't like putting foreign stuff in my body, but after this weekend I'm reminded that no, that's not it at all. Drugs and me just don't mix.

Like when I was attempting natural childbirth on my first over 9 pound baby and the nurse convinced me to take some nubane. "It'll take the edge off," she said. For the first five minutes it was mildly helpful, then it just caused me to fall into a deep sleep in between horrifically painful contractions that were only two minutes apart. A couple times my nervous hubby nudged me awake, asking me if I was okay. Apparently as I released a relaxing breath at the end of the contraction, I would forget to take another breath in. Joel was afraid my sleep was becoming a little too deep. Then the baby's heart rate went down so the doctor got Lukas out of there and everyone was okay. But Joel still gets a little shaky when he talks about watching my breathing drop as I dropped off to sleep between each contraction.

Then, for some reason, my doctor gave me nubane again after the birth of my little girl. I wouldn't let him give it to me during labor. Apparently he thought it would relax me again, as I was a little shaken up by that labor. But all it did was keep me from actually sleeping, I remember feeling like I was floating and thinking that my little girl was actually me when I was a baby. Like I said, me and drugs don't mix.

Which brings me to this past week. My doctor wanted to start me on a new medication that I grudgingly agreed to take for the sake of my future health. Then, due to the strep epidemic overtaking my home, I stopped taking the first medication so that I could take the penicillin prescribed by my doctor. I thought it was strange seeing the word penicillin on the label, I couldn't remember the last time I was prescribed that stuff, it was always Amoxicillan or Zythromax, but I started taking it Wednesday and then woke up Saturday morning feeling like my hand was asleep. I tried massaging it, holding it up in the air to get the blood flowing and moving it around, but soon it became painful, like my fingers were going to explode.

I got out of bed and realized my foot hurt too, then my other hand started to hurt and I got out the side effects pamphlets on any and all drugs I had taken in the last week. One said that if there was swelling of the hands or feet I was to seek IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION. You couldn't see that they were swollen, but they were throbbing and were hot to the touch. Can I just mention here that one of the side effects of penicillin is a "black hairy tongue." Are they serious? Black? Hairy? Does it just feel hairy or does actual hair grow on the black tongue? And does the tongue turn pink again or is it black and in need of a good shave indefinitely?

Questions with no answers.

Anyway, I went to the ER and was checked into my very own room. I must say here that my only comparisons are to County General and Seattle Grace. Dr. Green never showed up and there was no Dr. McAnything anywhere to be seen. But they inserted an IV and pumped me full of all sorts of fun stuff like Benedryl and steroids and pain meds. Eventually the pain went away, but I left the hospital barely able to stand on my own two feet and with the doctor telling me not to take either medication because he didn't know which one was causing the side effects. See, me and drugs, no good.

And while I have great respect for the medical profession, I have to say that I don't like all the testing and guessing and uncertainty that goes along with it. I want Dr. House to walk in my room, berate me for my fear of modern medicine, try to kill me with some crazy idea of his, and then heal me with absolute certainty of what the problem is. Okay, I would actually curl up into the fetal position and hide under the bed if House used his usual methods on me, but I would at least like the solid answers that he provides at the end of every episode.

So, I went home and took a two hour nap at four in the afternoon, and when I woke up my fingers were not throbbing, I could walk without pain, and as far as I can tell, I will have no need to shave my tongue in the near future.

Hallelujah.

On Parenting

This blog is not usually about parenting because I am not an expert parent.

I am an experienced parent, with four kids aged 5-12 I'm pretty sure that's indisputable, but there's a difference.

I think the fact that I'm beginning to get parenting ideas from movies like Despicable Me and Baby Mama is a sign that I am not an expert parent.

The other day I told Joel that I had all of our parenting woes solved. From now on, when our children misbehave they will go in the box of shame (Despicable Me), a lovely cardboard box we could put in the corner of the living room labeled cleverly, "Box of Shame." There is an air hole, so it's humane. And then when our children are good, they will receive the reward of five minutes of uninterrupted eye contact (Steve Martin in Baby Mama). I personally think this is a brilliant plan. As they say at our church (tongue in cheek) "shame produces change!" And really, what could be more rewarding to a child than eye contact with their parent?

In case you don't know me, no need to call DCFS, I'm joking. But the truth is, I started out this journey of parenting reading every book that had a "Godly" plan and tried to follow it to the letter. Over the years I have come to regret a lot of that because it didn't allow me to trust myself as a parent. Sometimes my baby doesn't need to cry it out, but needs to be held, or my son doesn't need strong discipline in this moment, but to know that he matters to me.

And now that my kids are older it has only gotten more complicated. This requires more creativity. A friend told me that psychologist Dan Allender uses fear and humiliation in parenting adolescents. When his middle schooler was too embarrassed to have his dad drop him off at the door of the school, Dan realized that his son didn't want to be seen with him, so the next day Dan took a paper bag, cut out eye holes so he could see, and dropped his son off at the door with a bag over his head. To his amazement, his son never complained again. Now that is parenting genius!

I used to think I'd be a cool parent who my kids wouldn't be embarrassed by. I now realize that is impossible. Once a child reaches the age of 11 they are embarrassed by everything. I have surprised myself to realize the sick delight I now take in mildly humiliating my children. It's too easy, and you've gotta have fun as a parent or you'll just go crazy.

So, fear and humiliation will help Lukas through middle school, whereas Gabe needs focused activity. He brought home a writing exercise yesterday that I was sure was a consequence for out of control behavior, but he insists it was just a regular journal assignment. This is what it said:

Calm Down

By Gabe

I am always getting hyper and getting in trouble for being hyper. My mom and dad started to think of solutions.

One bad solution is warning me, because it is hard to stop. The first solution was to make me read. It didn’t really help. Then a better solution was to make me take deep breaths, because it helped me calm down. An even better solution was to walk away, because then I couldn’t do any more damage.

The real solution that worked and they do now is to make me go outside and do three or five chin ups on the rings, because it wastes my energy and it is fun, too.

It sort of cracks me up that my son is so self-aware that he is critiquing our various attempts at helping him stay out of trouble. I'm glad he thinks we're finally onto something here.

Now Josh is another story. He has the most guilty conscience I've ever seen. The other night he came to me in silence with something clearly weighing on him. After almost a half an hour he finally broke down and confessed that he had taken a large cardboard box from our neighbor's yard without asking them for permission. We talked about how that was wrong and that he had lied about getting permission and we talked about needing to go and apologize to our neighbors. After a little bit I asked if he felt better after telling me. He said no because he was afraid he was going to go to juvie (juvenile detention). I stifled my laughter and told him that though what he did was wrong, I didn't think anyone would send him away for stealing empty cardboard boxes. He was mildly comforted.

But last night, after allowing my kids to watch some t.v. that ended up not being very age appropriate, Josh used some bad language on his brother. Because this has become a trend, I sent him to the bathroom thinking through using the tried and true wash his mouth out with soap method (The Christmas Story). By the time I got to the bathroom for our talk, I couldn't find him. I looked in the shower and he wasn't there and then behind the door. Finally Joshua emerged from under the counter, his face red and streaked with tears. It seemed he had been enduring his own box of shame. I was overcome with compassion for my sensitive boy and chose not to use any soap, but talked to him about sin and forgiveness and saying hurtful things and not letting hurtful things said about you change how you think of yourself.

His older brother had called him a chicken for backing out of a deal that would have certainly caused him physical pain. Josh is so much smaller than his brothers that his only retaliation is fury and the worst words he can think of. As we talked he told me he only knows one bad word and it means, "donkey butt."

That time I laughed out loud really hard. He looked at me like I was crazy, but then relaxed, realizing that if mommy's laughing, the consequences can't be too bad. And so he went to bed assuring me that he would try to control his language and confident that he is loved and forgiven. He and his brother apologized to one another and peace was restored in my home.

Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done. I really have no idea what I'm doing and I mess up a lot. Though shame may, in fact, produce change, it's not the kind of change I want from my kids. I'd rather have them learn the lesson that their mommy clings to as she does her best to parent them - that love covers over a multitude of sins.

Best of 2010

Here's my list of favorites from the past year:

1. Best Novel - Water for Elephants by Sarah Gruen was my favorite read from the last year. I loved traveling back to the Great Depression era circus train, meeting all of the strange characters and falling in love with that sweet elephant, Rosie. I also liked the Notebook-esque use of the old man telling the story of his youth and wondering who his wife turned out to be. I am sooo excited to see the Reese Witherspoon/Robert Pattinson movie which just happens to come out right before my birthday - happy birthday to me!

2. Best Non-fiction book - The Land Between, Finding God in Difficult Transitions by Jeff Manion - I downloaded this book on the Kindle because it said it was free, but it wasn't. Fortunately, this book knew that I needed it. It is written with compassion by a pastor who knows what it means to struggle through the trials and circumstances of life. It is also a study of Moses and the Israelite's time in the desert, but Manion seamlessly melds new Biblical insights with practical application and encouragement for life today. I have not finished reading it because it's become a sort of devotional for me. I find myself craving his words of assurance and encouragement on a regular basis. I may just start over when I'm finished.

3. Best Children's Book Series - Knuffle Bunny by Mo Willems - I'm pretty sure the man is a genius of some sort. I love how his pictures meld New York streets with cartoon drawings and the way his writing captures the passion of a child and hilarity of parenting. My daughter loves these books so much that get them from the library over and over again. The final installment, Knuffle Bunny Free, was just released, but don't read it until you've read Knuffle Bunny and Knuffle Bunny, Too. My family's favorite part is in the first book when the little girl goes "boneless" in her daddy's arms. Don't tell Hope, but she's getting the whole series and her very own Knuffle Bunny for her birthday. I can't wait!!!

4. Best Movie - Inception - This is the only movie this year that I walked out of in awe. In awe of the movie experience I just had, in awe of the special effects and powerful story, and most of all, in awe of the amazing mind of Chris Nolan. In an industry made up of story lines recycled into oblivion, he came up with something completely new and mind blowing. I'm pulling for it to win best picture at the academy awards this year. If you haven't seen it, do, but be sure it's on the biggest screen you can find with a high quality sound system so that you can have the full Inception experience.

5. Best Family Experience - our first real family vacation in Tennessee - whether trying not to lose any children while tubing down the river, exhausting my kids on what was supposed to be a 3 mile round trip hike to a waterfall (turned out it was 6 miles in 90 degree heat and we didn't quite make it), going out for Mexican food or just hanging around what the kids now call "our cabin," it was awesome to get away from everyday life to focus on fun and family. The only problem now is that our kids want to go back next year.

6. Best Personal Experience - Italy! - It was truly the trip of a lifetime. From the cafes on every corner that invite you to come in and sit as long as you want, to the beautiful, passionate language and gorgeous people and paintings and buildings, not to mention getting to talk about the love that God has for his people with people that have never heard it before, it was more than I ever imagined it would be.

7. Best Daughter - Hope Elizabeth - She continues to leave me in wonder as she wants to be like me, but is so much her own person. Her first day of kindergarten she sat in her desk and never even looked up at me to wave good-bye. She was ready to strike out on her own, much more so than Mommy, who left with tears in her eyes. She is the delight of my heart, a gift that I never expected.

8. Best 3rd Son - Joshua Brody - my little turkey pot pie, as I affectionately call him, continues to crack me up with timely one liners and hilarious retorts. He is as sweet as can be and tough as nails, too. I feel for him being sandwiched between two older brothers and a little sister who acts like a little mommy, but am proud of him for finding his own path, too.

9. Best 2nd Son - Gabe - He is still crazy as he's been since he was a toddler and perceptive. His way with words is a blessing and a curse as he tells great stories, cheers up family members when they are down and offers stunning insight into all sorts of things, while also having the power to crush or manipulate a sibling at will.

10. Best Oldest Son - Lukas Joel - named after his dad, he continues to clash with him the most, but only because he's so desperate to become a man himself. Battling dyslexia, Lukas has become a middle schooler who works hard in all of his classes, brings home good grades and is a voracious reader, much to my amazement. He is learning an instrument, making new friends and doing a pretty good job of managing what I tend to think are the worst years of a person's life.

11. Best Husband - Joel - Juggling a full-time job, full-time school and a full-time family, Joel continues to impress his teachers, minister to students and still make time to talk to his wife at the end of a long day. I'm still mystified by the fact that he loves me while knowing the depth of my flaws. I continue to grow in respect for the man that God is making him to be and look forward to finishing this journey with Joel at my side.

12. Best Dog Ever - Gabby - Last but not least is my puppy who came straight from the hand of God to me. We have the most co-dependent relationship I've ever heard of between an owner and pet, but it makes me deliriously happy and she seems quite pleased, herself (as long as I'm around). She is my running partner, protector, snuggler, play friend and companion and I've decided she has to live forever as no other dog could possibly be as awesome as Gabby.

There were so many great things about 2010, but these are the top. 2011 is already underway and is off to a good start. As Joel will not be done with grad school until May of 2012, I'm trying not to view this year as the year between, but to look for all the hope and possibilities that God has for us.

May you be blessed in the new year.