Lessons from Santa

My most cherished memories from Christmas’ of my childhood involve Santa. My parents worked hard to make the magic come alive for my brother and I. Later, when my sisters arrived, it was a family effort to create the magic for them.

In recent years, the dream of Santa has come under attack. Many Christians don’t want their kids to confuse Santa with God and somehow leave God when they outgrow Santa. I don’t want to debate with you; I like to debate but it seems like a futile argument to me.

At my house, we believe in Santa. We write letters to Santa. We know that Santa watches for good boys and girls. We put out cookies and milk. We put carrots on the deck for the reindeer. We move the fireplace screen to leave room for Santa to get in. We actively believe in Santa.

This year I really had to evaluate why believing in Santa was important. There are members of our family who do not teach their children to believe in Santa and can be pretty mocking of our doing so. Our oldest has become very particular and detailed oriented. We had to be so very careful to keep her belief alive.

She asked Santa to bring her cowgirl boots, a cowgirl hat and a turquoise cowgirl vest. Now I am a pretty resourceful shopper and love to bargain hunt. I looked all over and found the cutest boots and hat to actually fit her little clover shaped head. But no matter where I shopped, there was no finding a turquoise cowgirl vest. I found pink leather and brown cowhide. But no turquoise. Oh and did I mention that she came up with this request on December 19th? I had 6 days…

Believing in Santa is partly about trusting your dreams to someone else to see if they can come true. My daughter communicated a dream to me and it was my responsibility to make it a reality. In doing so, I reinforced her ability to have faith. So, two days before Christmas I made a vest out of turquoise bandanas and pink beads. I don’t enjoy sewing nor am I good at it. But, I finished it on the afternoon of Christmas Eve.

On Christmas morning, I emerged from my room to begin breakfast and found both of my daughters tearing into Santa’s gift in the dark. I yelled! I screamed! I was so mad at them that I sent them to their room. In examining the carnage after they left, I found that they had opened everything that Santa had brought to them, their brother, my husband and even me. I wasn’t mad because they had woken up early. I was mad because I had missed that moment. I had missed seeing their faith reinforced. I had missed the sheer joy of finding your dreams fulfilled.

This year Santa taught me to believe in the power of forgiveness. After a just punishment, we all had to forgive each other and move on to cherish Christmas together. It was hard for me because I was still grieving the loss of that moment. It was hard for the girls because they were really mad at me for wrecking their fun. But, having faith in someone means forgiving them when they don’t meet your expectations.

We believe in Santa and all the lessons that belief brings with it…

Noel

I remember the day that each of my children was born. Our oldest was born in the morning after a long, sleepless night. I remember how afraid I was both of giving birth and for her health. She came with a lot of drama as her cord was prolapsed and her heart rate kept dropping. When she was finally laid on my chest, I cried from sheer relief that she was safe.

Our second was also born in the morning. However, there had been no night of long, fearful labor. She came quickly and with much surprise! We fully expected a boy and when she arrived the doctor announced, “She’s here!” My husband and I both turned to look for the newly arrived nurse and the doctor said, “Your daughter, she’s here!” When she was laid on my chest, I cried tears of surprised joy.

Our youngest was born in the afternoon, just one more way to declare his uniqueness! He screamed his way into this world and hasn’t been too quiet since. His delivery felt routine and normal. When he was laid on my chest, I cried tears of peace.

This time of year always gets me thinking about a night, in a stable, so many years ago. A young girl gave birth to her first without the aid of her mother or sisters. Her husband must have felt very shy to be helping her in this way as he had never known her, to use the biblical term.

I always wonder how much she knew as held that baby boy. Did she love him as a child or as a God? Did she see any of her own physical traits in him? Did she truly welcome smelly shepherds as she lay exhausted and cold? How did she define her tears that night? Fear? Relief? Love? Joy?

The wonders of incarnation never cease to amaze me. I attempt to wrap my mind around God as an infant. God needing a diaper change. God hungry. God sleepy. I know infants. I’ve had a few! Really…God as a baby? He wasn’t really God at that moment was he? How could God have been a fetus? An infant? A toddler? A teenager? Flesh on divinity is wondrous and preposterous at the same time!

This time of year wraps me in arms of love; arms that had flesh on them and arms that understand the need for physical comfort. Christmas brings into fresh perspective that there is a love so strong that it would be born in a barn.

Luke 2: 4-7 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Eat, Pray, Love

I love to read! I will read a lot of different genres but my favorite is fiction. I love a great story about a character that I relate to in their search for something.

So, I was shocked to LOVE Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert! Nonfiction is often exhausting to me but this book was not a burden to read. It is the spiritual memoir of a woman needing to find answers for her messed up life and broken heart. She pursues answers to the hard questions in the three "I"s: Italy, India and Indonesia.

"Eat" is in Italy where Elizabeth travels to eat great food and learn Italian, a lifelong fantasy. She pursues the gift of pleasure, trying to capture all that we Americans have missed in our effienciency of life.

"Love" is in Bali, Indonesia where Liz pursues balance in her life. Balance of pleasure and discipline. Balance of joy and pain.

But my favorite section is "Pray". Liz is in India, living in an Ashram. She makes some astounding statements regarding faith. Here are three of my favorite quotes.

Saint Augustine said, "Our whole business therefore in this life is to restore to health the eye of the heart whereby God may be seen."

How's your vision these days?

"If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be...a prudent insurance policy." page 175

I wonder if I've been pursuing insurance or faith for all of my life?

"This is what rituals are for. We do spiritual ceremonies as human beings in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don't have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down. We all need such places of ritual safekeeping. And I do believe that if your culture or tradition doesn't have the specific ritual you are craving, then you are absolutely permitted to make up a ceremony of your own devising, fixing your own broken-down emotional systems with all the do it yourself resourcefulness of a generous plumber/poet (an inside joke). If you bring the right earnestness to your homemade ceremony, God will provide the grace. And that is why we need a God." page 187

I can't even respond to this one for all that it evokes in me. But I know that I need that grace to reach out to me...all the time.

I hope that you will read this book, not because I liked it or because Oprah said to. Read it because it will challenge you to find a bigger God and a more personal voyage of faith. Let me know when you finish...I want to talk!

Peace

I love Christmastime! I love a home lit by Christmas trees and outdoor lights. I love the smells of cinnamon apples and baking cookies. I love getting cards and pictures from friends. I love spending time thinking about what gift will bring joy to people that I love.

Yesterday at church we began a series on messianic psalms, the first of which dealt with peace. I don't always associate Christmastime with peacefulness; usually I think of busyness! But, the point was that Jesus came as a peace offering to man. God made his peace with peaople. If the church is to be the hands and feet of Christ, then the church should be the peacemaker of the world. Hmm...

What does that truth say to a church whose history is full of nasty fights and splits? What does that say to us who are so likely to focus inward rather than outward? What does that say? I feel the call to be peace. I want church to be part of that effort. What does that look like? How does it work? Any ideas?

Thankful

Gratefulness seems to be a lost art. Checkers at the grocery store are astounded by a "Thank you" from customers. The bank teller was floored by my "Thanks for your help today." It seems that we have forgotten the power of being thankful. So today, in tune with the season, I want to be appreciative to the One who has created my life.

I'm thankful for my sweet husband of nine and half years. I'm thankful for our ability to laugh and work together. I'm thankful that we love spending time together. I'm thankful for our partnership in raising our kids.

I'm thankful for all three of my beautiful kids. I'm thankful for their health and vitality, even when its overwhelming. I'm thankful for all the ways they remind me of someone and for all the ways they are unique. I'm thankful their little hearts that already love God.

I'm thankful for my job. I'm thankful that I can help support our family financially while still being a full time mom. I'm thankful for the opportunity to serve and be creatively challenged by what I do professionally.

I'm thankful for our extended family. I'm thankful that they live close enough to see them regularly. I'm thankful for traditions that we share in each holiday season and for new things we do to explore the meaning of Christmas.

I'm thankful for our church. I'm thankful for the way she challenges me to live in community with those that are different. I'm thankful for a place to serve. I'm thankful for a group of people who are concerned with the spiritual health of my family.

I'm thankful for friends. I'm thankful for times to laugh together, shop together, read together. I'm thankful for the chance to be authentic and safe. I'm thankful for similarities and differences to make life richer.

I'm thankful for our home. I'm thankful for a place that is ours. I'm thankful for the lights of Christmas that surround me now. I'm thankful for the memories in every corner of this house.

I'm thankful for the journey called life. I'm thankful for the chance to grow and be changed more into the image of Jesus. I'm thankful for the ups and downs that remind me of where my true home is. I'm thankful for each passing day.

What are you thankful for?

The Gift of a Godly Woman?

I am currently writing an article by this same title. It is built around these four questions:

1. Are men superior to women?
2. Does Eve's curse still hold true for women?
3. What about the writings of Paul?
4. What should the church of today do with all of this?

I would love your feedback on any of these questions!

7:45pm

7:45pm is my favorite time of the day. The whole family is upstairs working toward children going to bed. Yes, it's a good thing that they are going to bed! However, that's not why it's my favorite time.

At 7:45, my baby boy is fresh from a bath. We are sitting in his rocking chair in a darkened room. I smell the lavender shampoo in his hair and feel his lotion softened skin. It is the only moment of the day that he is still in my lap. Together we begin to rock and put an end to a busy day.

These brief moments of almost every evening are priceless to me. As he drinks a cup full of milk, I sing. I sing lullabies in the beginning. Very often, his sisters come in wanting to help sing. And so together we sing "Jesus loves Me" and "Jesus Loves the Little Children" and "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and close with "God Made the Big Round Sun". The girls kiss baby brother goodnight and head to brush their teeth. The milk is gone by now and he snuggles closer, laying his head on my shoulder.

I used to stop singing at this point and just rock. But lately, little man has started singing if I don't. So, the concert goes on. I sing whatever God brings to mind. Last night it was songs from church that morning. Often, I sing songs from my days in youth group and at camp; songs that soothe a harried soul with reminders of quieter times. I always end with "Be Still and Know That I am God". I used to sing this song to myself to help me sleep. Now, I whisper these words over my little boy.

Before I lay him down in his bed, I sing a prayer over him. It is his life prayer that God gave me when he was just four months old. All the way to the door I blow kisses to that precious lump of blankets and stuffed animals.

These moments of my day are centering. I have a moment when my only job is to administer grace. And in the process, I receive it as well.

Dying

I've been thinking a lot about dying. My grandfather passed away on Thursday and we held a graveside service yesterday. Grandpa was 86 and very ready to die. He had been in poor health for years. A week before his death, he decided that was enough of hospitals and doctors. So, he was discharged from the hospital and entered into hospice care. Six days later, after seeing each of his sons, he died peacefully with his wife of 59 years by his side.

Modern medicine has taken some of the dignity out of dying. Grandpa had undergone three by-pass surgeries. They gave him more years to be sure. But the last 2 years of his life were humiliating in many ways. I wonder if there is something to be said for living fewer years with all of our pride in place? Grandpa was a humble man from the beginning. I can't imagine that pride was a strong motivator for him in any area of life. However, he was embarrassed in his last years by his inability to do even the most mundane things for himself.

LIFE. Death is a part of it. But, living should be the most of it! Life should be a plate full of rich food. Sweet and bitter, each relationship and moment brings more fullness to the flavor of another.

I don't really have a point today. I'm just meandering in thought on the questions and fears that plague all of humanity. What about you?

Catch the Moon

When each of my children were tiny, we would recite these words together...

It’s time to go night-night baby. Hold me close.
Sweet baby, do you see the moon? Can you catch the moon?
Who can catch the moon?
Can Daddy catch the moon?
No, Daddy can't catch the moon.
Can an airplane catch the moon? Can a spaceship catch it?
No, they can’t catch it.
Can the mountains catch the moon? Can the trees?
No, they can't catch it.
Can birds or butterflies catch the moon?
No, they can’t catch it.
Who can catch the moon, baby?
That’s right! God can.
Sleep tight, precious baby. God holds the moon and God holds you.

I was thinking about this last night as I began to teach it to our son. What simple truth! Only God can catch the moon and only God can hold us. What a safe place to be!

Retreat

I did something that I have never, in my entire life, done. I truly rested on Thursday. Do you know what is strange about that? I got so much done!

It was a beautiful day. Crisp and clear. The sun was out and the dew was heavy. I sent everyone off from my house to their various activities for the day and then I went outside. I set blankets in my yard and a CD player on my deck. I brought out my journal and sat down on the blankets. For two hours I listened to quiet, meditative, worshipful music and just sat there. There were two questions that I sought to answer in the time. I was preparing to speak to a group of women the next day and I wanted to know: 1. Is there anything that is keeping me from being your spokesperson, Lord? 2. What do you want me to say?

As I sat and laid there, thoughts would well up and I would seek to categorize them by the two questions. I filled up two journal pages with thoughts on each topic. After the initial time of listening, I started working through the thoughts that had come up. Many were situations that I needed to let go of, either in forgiveness or surrender. Then there were these ideas of what to speak about. I want to be clear that I had already done a lot of work in preparation for these presentations. But, God had some things to add. The time was rich in revelations and affirmations.

By this time the dew on the grass had begun to dry and the sun was beginning to rise over my house casting it's direct rays on the backyard where I lay. I turned on another of my favorite Cd's and lay back down. I stared up into the brilliant blue sky and praised God for all that he had done in me and for me that morning. When it would get too bright, I would close my eyes for a moment and then stare again. Once I opened my eyes to see a monarch butterfly fluttering in the breeze not 5 feet above my head. I watched until it was out of sight. I closed my eyes to offer thanks for such a beautiful view and felt the full warmth of the sun hit my face at that moment. It had broken over the chimney and was blinding in it's brilliance.

The day was overflowing in it's bounty of goodness. I was amazed that God would choose to meet me in such a normal place on such a normal day. Maybe I wasn't normal that day, though.

When have you encountered God?

Junk

I realized today that my life is like my washing machine. See, our laundry room is just inside our back door. So any time someone walks in or out of the house to the garage, they have to go by the washing machine. What that means is that as we walk in and out of the door, we have a very convenient place to leave stuff.

I have a "once a week" rule about doing laundry. I hate laundry and so I save it all up for one day a week and just get it over with. Usually it's Friday and I do at least 8 loads of laundry.

The combination of the these factors makes for a very messy laundry room. The first twenty minutes of every laundry day begins with sorting all the stuff off of the washer. I have to find where it all goes and put it away so that I can even start the laundry.

My life is a little the same. Junk builds up higher and higher until I wonder where I really am. I'm lost under the rubble, suffocating. As my spirit gasps for air, I ask myself where it all came from. Why didn't I clean up sooner? How do I clean it all off?

How do you clean off?

STRESS

I am never my best when I am stressed out. None of us are. Right now I have too many big projects going all at once. I find myself unable to concentrate on any one thing because I am always thinking about what else I need to do.

This past weekend we even multitasked birthdays! Our middle daughter turned 4 last week and our son turns 1 on Friday. So, we had both of their parties on the same day to make it more convienent for family. The result? I am so tired that I can hardly move! Here a couple of cute pictures from the weekend. I'll try to do better next week!

100

My middle daughter turned four yesterday. It is a big deal to turn four! She got to wear a “birthday princess” crown to church. She got to choose the restaurant for lunch. She got to open presents at the restaurant. She got to pick the movie that we watched after a nap. It was her day!

We have seen her growing up a lot lately. She loses control less often and when she does lose it, she get’s it back much more quickly. She is learning the beauty of doing good. She is getting better at being without her older sister at home. She really is growing up.

There is one part of her that doesn’t want to grow up. She still sucks her thumb. Sucking her thumb is her link to comfort when she is sad, scared, or tired. It provides soothing when life is more than she can handle. When used in connection to holding her blankie, sucking her thumb sets the world back on its axis.

On Thursday night, we were in the car and talking about her upcoming birthday. Most kids would be so excited about a birthday. But she said that she didn’t want to turn four. When I asked her why, she responded that she didn’t want to stop sucking her thumb. See, every year as her birthday approaches she says that she will stop sucking her thumb when she is a certain age. Then when her birthday is really here, she just can’t do it! So we talked about it some. I told her that maybe she could try to just suck her thumb in her bed once she turned four. That calmed her down and then she said this, “Mommy, I’ll be a big girl when I turn 100.”

Oh, the wisdom of a child! I could see the wheels turning in that little mind. She recognized her pattern of promising to stop and not being able to. So, she picked the biggest age she could fathom and said she would stop then!

I don’t know about you, but I do this too. I tell myself that I will be more disciplined when XYZ is over or I will stop doing something when I am a certain age. They are all excuses for not facing up to my own inability to stop sinful patterns in my own life. I wonder if I ever truly see these patterns until the consequences catch up with me? You know, I have loved to eat and hated to exercise most of my life. But the pattern didn’t raise any red flags until my clothes were getting tight!

What would happen if I took responsibility for sin before consequences caught up with me? What would happen if I took the time to stop and be aware of my own soul’s reaction to sin? What if those were consequence enough to get my attention? What if I recognized my own helplessness to stop and instead invited in the power of God to change my heart so that my behavior would follow?

Those are hard questions and make me want to say, “Lord, I’ll be a big girl when I turn 100.”

Messy Worship

Like most, if not all mothers of young children, I look forward to Sundays with mixed feelings. I long to worship, to see adults and talk with them, to think about grown-up stuff, and even to have a reason to get dressed in something that is not intended for finger paint to wash out of. But, Sundays are a challenge too. I dread the possibility of it being one of my children who yells in the middle of the prayer, “I need to go potty!” I shudder at the chance it might be one of my kids who drops their entire container of goldfish on the floor and crushes them into the carpet. There are a host of embarrassing things that can happen at church involving children and every Sunday there is a real risk that one of them will happen in our family.
But, we’ve decided that no matter what humiliating things might happen, we are going to worship. So, we get up at the crack of dawn to have everyone dressed and out the door on time. We drive 25 minutes to get there. We unload all of the stuff that comes with us- everyone’s Bible and sharing money, snacks, water cups, extra clothes (just in case), silent entertainment choices, etc.- and head in.
The Bible class hour flies by. I retrieve my children to hear stories of who wouldn’t sit in circle time to hear the Bible story and then try to piece together the story they learned from the masterpieces that are handed to me. As we make our way to the auditorium, my children break out into a run. Is it because I have cultivated little hearts that love to worship? No. It’s because their daddy is in there and they haven’t seen him since the night before. That’s a very long time to a preschooler! So, in 30 seconds or less they compete with each other to tell Daddy more stories of what might have happened getting ready, driving to church, and in Bible class.
As Chad steps up to begin worship, I try to regain some sense of order. Here’s where the real challenge is set in motion. I want to focus. I want to close my eyes and lose the stresses of the morning and the week. I want to sing and pray and set my mind on holy things. I want to think about God and feel His Spirit touch mine. My children want their snack, want to look at book, want to be held and then get down and then want to be held again. I want to teach them to worship, even with adults. But how can I do that when I’ve forgotten how to worship from lack of practice? It’s a rare Sunday that I don’t feel annoyance rise up in my throat more than once during this ritual. When do I get to worship?
It was on such a Sunday when I was about to lose my patience entirely with my two year old. She was driving me crazy! Her up and down and loud voice were more than I felt able to stand. I just wanted to worship! I felt her tug at my hand again and worked very hard not to roll my eyes at her. I looked down and she pulled me down to her level. She whispered in my ear, “I love you, Mommy!” and gave me a wet, cheese cracker tinged kiss on the cheek. While my irritation subsided immediately, it didn’t occur to me what had really happened until hours later.
I am a person who desires and seeks order. I appreciate things that are neat, clean, and come packaged in easy to carry boxes. I even want time to be appropriated. It takes a lot of effort to get everyone to church on Sunday and I want to soak up every moment of it. I feel cheated from a chance to be with God when I spend a service correcting and hushing my kids. I want them to observe others worshiping and do the same.
But what struck me that Sunday was that worship is messy. If worship is spirit touching spirit as Jesus says in John 4, then is it possible that worship is achieved when the care given my children touches their spirit? If they see Jesus in me as I meet their needs, are they being taught worship by example? Jesus says in Matthew 25 that whatever we do for the least of people is done for Him. I know from years in Sunday School that worship is more than what happens on Sunday mornings in a building. Worship is life lived in step with God; a life that is given in service of the kingdom to the glory of God. I don’t remember any time in scripture that people sat down in pews facing the person of Jesus and sang love songs to Him. Yet, God was glorified in the years Jesus was on the face of the earth. He was glorified, worshipped, in the faithful actions of His son.
Christianity is not neat and clean. We want to be changed in one hour sitting on a Sunday morning wearing our best clothes. That’s not Christianity. I have to stop seeking the perfect “worship” experience only on Sunday mornings. I have to be willing to recognize and accept Spirit touches at any time, even from cheese cracker kisses.


“Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth.” John 4: 23-24

Seasons

Nicole Nordeman is my all time favorite song writer and singer. Her work exemplifies a woman who has spent time in the presence of God and longs to share her experience. She challenges me and encourages me all at the same time!

I love so many of her songs but today I wanted to talk about “Every Season”. The song is a beautiful story of the changing seasons in our physical world. It is also the story of a spiritual journey through summer and fall, to winter and back to spring. Here, she says it better:

Every evening sky, an invitation
To trace the patterned stars
And early in July, a celebration
For freedom that is ours
And I notice You
In children’s games
In those who watch them from the shade
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder
You are summer
And even when the trees have just surrendered
To the harvest time
Forfeiting their leaves in late September
And sending us inside
Still I notice You when change begins
And I am braced for colder winds
I will offer thanks for what has been and was to come
You are autumn
And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter
And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season’s change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter, spring


I’m watching summer and fall battle it out today. The cool front that came through last night collided with our warm, humid summer air and created huge thunder storms. It is raining buckets and the clashes of warm and cool air are producing amazing claps of thunder and streaks of lightning. It is a season of change.

I started praying and asking God what season I’m in spiritually. I think it is also a season of change. I feel the clashes in my soul and wonder if others can hear the thunder.

My summer seems to be giving way to autumn as well. What leaves will fall from my tree to make room for new buds? How long will it take for them to die? Does it hurt when they fall or will I be glad to let them go? Will the snow of winter last for months or just days?

I love the physical season of fall. I love the colors and the cooler weather that one can enjoy outside again. I love football games and soup. I love pumpkins and cinnamon scented candles. I love sweaters and fuzzy house shoes. I love fires in the fireplace and hot chocolate. I love fall.

Will I love the autumn of my soul just as much? I’m not sure. Will the colors flash brilliantly before they give way to brown? Will the cooler weather be enjoyable with a sweater? I don’t know what to expect.

What about you? What season do you find yourself in today?

My Magnifica

My soul magnifies the Lord;
my spirit rejoices within me,
for He has lifted me up.
The Lord has been faithful to see me,
me a simple servant,
me a doubtful slave.
The Lord has heard my cries from the lowest places;
He heard my fear,
He heard my pain.
The Lord is a tender parent to those who seek Him;
He dried my tears,
He soothed my hurt.
The Lord is a mighty general for those who follow Him;
He drove out my enemies,
He brought victory to my home.
The Lord is a gentle healer for those in His care;
He came in the night,
He repaired her need.
The Lord is a brilliant surgeon for those laid open before Him;
He cut out the darkness,
He delivered light.
The Lord is a rock for those who are weary;
He holds firm,
He lifts me up.
The Lord is a patient teacher for those will learn;
He instructs me with love,
He waits for my understanding.
My heart sings praise to the Lord of heaven and earth;
glory to our Savior,
honor to our King.
.

Letting Go

I sent my baby to kindergarten today. I sent my baby to kindergarten today. I can't believe that I sent my baby to kindergarten today.

What seems unreal about that is that I have to send her tomorrow and the next day and the next. I can let go for one day; in fact, that is pretty nice. But, I have to send her again and again for the next 13 years. And then, well...I can't even think about that.

Parenting is all about letting go. It starts from the moment they are born and have to let go of that umbilical cord. Growing up is a series of "being let go's" that should have us prepared to be adults.

Yesterday at church we talked about moving out of college and realizing that our spiritual food is now our own responsibility. I don't think that I had thought of it in those terms. I don't think that I was ready; I'm not sure that I'm ready now.

I learned how to do laundry, clean a house, drive a car, balance a checkbook (with Quicken), and grocery shop at the heals of my parents. They modeled daily prayer and bible study for me but that lesson didn't sink in as well, for some reason. The importance of it did but not the doing.

What about you? When you were ultimately "let go" what lessons did you realize hadn't sunk in very well? How can I, as a mom, instill those lessons in my children?

In the Spirit?

I am very nervous writing this entry. My church background does not prepare one to write about being in the Spirit. In fact, most people from my church background aren't even sure what the Spirit is. That ignorance is what prompted this entry. I don't have any answers, just more questions.

John describes himself as being "in the Spirit" when he received the visions that are recorded in Revelation. I have never known what that meant. Aren't believers filled with the Spirit all the time? The Old Testament describes the Spirit of the Lord descending on people such as David to show the Lord's favor and also records the Spirit being removed from Saul when he sinned against the Lord. Jesus promised that the Spirit would come when he left.

Beyond knowing that I was supposed to receive the Holy Spirit when I was baptized, I've never been sure what else the Spirit did. I know that we have a list of fruit the Spirit bears when it lives in us, but how does that really work? I know that Hebrews describes the Spirit interceding for us in prayer before the Father.

What I suppose it really comes down to is that I have head knowledge about the Spirit but I don't feel that knowledge. I haven't experienced it.

In just this past month, I have had two different encounters with other believers that left me asking questions about my own life. Both revolved around this idea of being "in the Spirit". One said that she begins every prayer time by confessing sin and reviewing encounters with people from the past days making sure that there is nothing she needs to apologize or repent of. She said that if she didn't do that, her prayers would not be heard. The other talked about living every day in the supernatural power of the Spirit. She said that the reason most of us get so tired is that we live on our energy and not God's. She talked about living in truth because the negative feelings that come from guilt and conflict use a lot of energy and block the Spirit from being in control.

I don't know how to respond to these ideas. I want to know this kind of energy and power. I want my prayers to be heard. But this felt a little "other worldly" in a way that I wasn't comfortable with. So my real question to myself is, "Am I uncomfortable because it's new to me or because it's wrong?"

I'm not sure yet for myself. What do you think?

Rest

I have a lot of stuff on my mind today. I'm sure that many of you do too!

I'm thinking about work and all that I need to do. I'm thinking about church yesterday. I'm thinking about vacation and all that has to be finished so that we can leave. I'm thinking about my poor kiddos that I left at home, not feeling very good. I'm also thinking about sleep.

Sleep is a very normal pattern of thought for a mother of three young kids. I covet sleep, I must confess to you. Just this week, I have started bribing our oldest to not wake me up in the night. We call them "silly wake ups" because sometimes she just wants to know if we are there.

This weekend, I was talking with my neighbor and friend who is a new mom. Her daughter is just 3 months old. She was asking me if I thought that her baby slept too much. I remember being a new mom and worrying about the same thing. I told her what my pediatrician told me.

Babies grow and learn more in their first 12 months of life than at any other time. It is hard work! As they sleep, cells repair themselves and multiply. Synapses in the brain form more permanent connections. In short, the only way that babies can achieve all that they need to is by sleeping. In fact, by sleeping a whole lot!

It seems possible to me that there is a connection to the spiritual realm. In order to grow into all that we are intended to, there must be times of rest. Yes, we must feed our souls with prayer and scripture. But without rest, those "cells" won't be able to multiply and take root in our hearts.

I think it important to say here that I don't just mean sleeping. I mean resting in the Lord. Meditating, being in solitude with Him. It is there, as we just listen and wait, that our souls create permanent connection.

What do you think?

Oh, how you've grown!

One of the first things that I say when seeing the children of friends after a period of time apart is, "Oh! They are getting so big!"

Usually, that comment is countered with ideas like, "Now so and so has learned to walk." or "Can you believe how fast they are growing?"

It seems to be part of being a parent that you automatically slip into brag mode when talking about your kids. It is even worse if you haven't seen that person in a while.

I guess that adults can be this way as well. When a high school or college reunion is coming up, everyone scrambles to lose 10 pounds, get their roots touched up, and wishes that they had a more exciting job to describe. We feel the need to prove that we have grown into more than people expected of us.

I find myself wishing sometimes that someone would notice my spiritual growth. No one ever says things like, "You really have matured in the faith since the last time I saw you." or "I see you becoming more like Jesus." Yes, I know. It would be weird if anyone actually said those things outloud to me.

But, I long to be growing. I want to be moving in the right direction. I desire maturity more than anything else. And sometimes, I just want to know if I'm on the right track. I want those that are older and wiser in the faith to see me growing in the right direction.

I wonder, though, if that is pride on my part. Do I want to hear others say, "Oo! Look how spiritual she is!" Because that's not healthy growth at all; that's cancer!

What do you think about that?

Where did the title come from?

I freely admit that the title, "The Dance of the Devoted Daughter" sounds strange from someone with my background! After all, there is not much dancing my church!!

So, I thought that I would explain myself. This title was my response to a book I read titled, "The Dance of the Dissident Daughter" by Sue Monk Kidd. I love Ms. Kidd's writing! Her fiction is captivating and I devour her work. This particular book was not fiction, though. It was Ms. Kidd's personal story of a spiritual search for a place of meaning, as a woman. Ms. Kidd had been a Christian for years and in fact wrote Christian articles and books. But, at 40 years of age she began to see that her Christian journey was masculine, not feminine.

The pain that she honestly presents and the quest for a feminine expression of faith spoke deeply to me. I too feel that much of my spirituality must be put in masculine terms because those are the only terms that my church presents. And yet, my logic tells me that God made us male and female for a reason. Shouldn't there be a way to be fully feminine and fully godly? When Ms. Kidd began to search for that intersection of realities, she couldn't find it. And so, she left the church, and the theology of this patriarchal system to find her own way. She became the dissident daughter.

I couldn't wrap my arms around the conclusions that Ms. Kidd reached and the decisions that she made based on them. I believe in the importance of the church, local and global. I believe that God in trusted His mission of reconciliation to the broken vessel that is the church. So, I vowed to be the devoted daughter. I vowed to stay. Staying, for me, is harder than leaving. I experience pain often from closed doors and shut down thinking. But, I believe that I have been called to pioneer a new way. I believe that God created men and women to work side by side in the kingdom. I believe that someone has to be willing to sacrifice their own comfort for the good of those that will follow. I choose this dance because I believe it honors God with all that I am. I believe that this is my life's work.

What do you think?

Getting Started

Well, I've been told that it is time to enter this world called blogging for a very long time. I am finally jumping in!

It is my desire that this blog be a place to begin conversations about living a life worthy of the name of our king. I've titled this blog "The Dance of the Devoted Daughter" because that phrase outlines who I desire to be. I want to be a princess that brings honor to the name of my Father in all that I do.

Will you journey with me?