a mother's day vision

One of my mentors passed away this week. Dallas Willard was one of those writers and thinkers whose words resonate with me in deep places. mourning this loss, i was taking some time to read different eulogies that had been posted on line. in an article by John Ortberg, he writes of Dallas' mom and her final words to his father before she herself died. She told him to "keep eternity before the children." Funny how this is the one phrase of all i read that landed on me like a ton of spiritual bricks. keep eternity before the children. this small collection of words, spoken by a woman i have never met summarized perfectly the passion of my heart as a mom.

during lunch, i forced my husband to enter into my melancholy state as i shared why Dallas' passing impacted me so deeply. thankfully my moods are no mystery to my husband. when i shared the quote from Dallas' mom, with great passion i might add, scott looked at me and asked simply,"what does that mean?" there he goes again, my practical, let's-tether-this-tirade-to-something-we-can-put-our-hands-on husband. he wasn't asking for a definition nor was he theologically puzzled. he was asking what that would look like on a day in, day out basis. that's why i love him. that's why he is the ying to my yang. he is the one steady force in my somewhat chaotic mind who, with feet firmly planted on the ground, always extends his hand in invitation for me to join him there in the "real" world. in other words, his sensibleness forces his wife to make her abstract thoughts concrete, to lasso the theoretical and transform it into the practical.

what would it mean for me to keep eternity before the children? what is my heart longing for when i say that this is my passion, even my calling as a mom? it means that i want my children to know that what is unseen is more real than what is seen, that what is temporal is passing away, that what they were made for cannot be regulated, determined or dictated by anyone covered in flesh. i want them to use Jesus and Life synonymously and to be convinced that they were uniquely created as beloved children of the eternal God to participate in a redemptive story of global and eternal proportions. i'm not asking for much, am i?

but as my husband with his farmer's faith asked, how am i going to plant seeds that will sprout this eternal perspective? how in the chaos of memorizing spelling words, cleaning rooms, swimming in the pool and laughing with friends am i going to harmonize temporal realities with eternal truths? the obvious measures are already in place. we have family devotional. we pray together. we go to church. we talk about God as we go about our day. what else is there?

perhaps Dallas alludes to the answer when he says, "the obvious well kept secret of the ordinary is that it is made to be a receptacle of the divine, a place where the life of God flows." nothing is ordinary when one considers the divine. each event in our day is pregnant with divine possibility (i think i have Millard Erickson to thank for that turn of phrase.) no person is "a mere mortal" (C.S. Lewis) and thus each encounter becomes an opportunity of eternal significance. how do i teach that? how do i communicate to my kids that each moment of their day is sacred, that no one is ordinary? gulp. perhaps the answer is as simple as this...i model it. after all, isn't that what Jesus did? in a world where religious leaders had taught about God and his kingdom for centuries, people still didn't know what God was like. they had to see it. so Jesus came and in the ultimate show and tell ever to let both eyes and ears experience God. so step one, mom, live it yourself. let your boys see what it means to live life as a receptacle of the divine.

how's that for a seed my husband? practical enough? i know, i know....but in my defense, translating the eternal into the experiential isn't as easy as it seems....

night time sisters

for the past couple of years, my sister and i have been trying to find our way back to each other.  maybe you can identify a bit with our story, maybe you can't.  let's see, how do i begin?  where do i start?  let's just say that dre and i are totally different.  she likes to joke that we are NOT from the same gene pool. it more than a matter of looks. we like different things and have very different tastes in everything.  even as kids, we were oil and water.  she was your typical little girl who loved barbies and dolls and i was the tomboy who had a love affair with sports and dirt.  and boy would we fight.  our parents report that we would fight over something as insignificant as what time it was.  all day long, or so it seemed to them, we would hiss over this and that, sometimes getting so mad that fists would go flying.  the only thing that saved me on more than one occasion was my desperation-induced ability to outrun my bigger and stronger sister.

we both still remember, and thankfully laugh about, many of the fights we had as children.  she remembers some of the names i would call her and i can recall with bloody detail some of the times i didn't run fast enough.  but regardless of how often we fought, regardless of how mad we could get at each other, there was one unspoken rule that never got broken.  no one and i mean NO ONE could pick on our sister.  she could beat me and call me names, but the minute, no the second, someone else did, he or she was rubble.  kendra can testify to this.  so can a half a dozen other girls who made the mistake of picking on me.  my sister's rage might have felt fearsome to me but it was cataclysmic to others.  whether i wanted her to be or not at times, my big sister was my protector.

this strained, hot and cold relationship that existed during our daylight hours disappeared when the sun went down.  something about the bedtime hour would transform our relationship.  when our jammies went on and the lights went out, we became the best of friends.  one of us would sneak into the other's room--well she would come to mine because she had scary ass windows in her room--and we would giggle and play until one of our parents would come striding in and insist upon our complete silence.  in those moments in the dark, under my holly hobby covers, dre and i became sisters, not enemies.  it is one of my fondest childhood memories.

as adults, we have had to test and ease our way into a different type of relationship.  we have had to let go of our childhood wounds and resentments in order to reach out to each other.  with each step we take towards the other, more trust is built and the closer we want to become.  oh we still fumble around some, the echoes of past injustices and inequalities reverberating in our head.  but now we speak them and in doing so, we rob them of their power.  instead of maintaining the defensive stance of our childhood-daytime relationship, we choose the intimate connectedness of our nighttime relationship.  under that protective cover, we are friends, allies and sisters.

we are still as different as can be.  she is all diva with her makeup and well chosen accessories, while i am still simple and unadorned.  but our connection runs deep and we love each other fiercely. oh and just so you know, she still will stand in your face with her fists clenched if you mess with me.  she is my sister, my protector.  something things never change....

grieving Newtown

last week, i went to workout and as i got on the treadmill, i glanced up and saw a news alert on one of the many screens in the gym.  there had been a shooting, at an elementary school.  26 dead, most of them 6-7 year old children.

i have a 7 year old.  he was at school.  with tears flooding my eyes, all i could think about was driving to my kids' school, pulling them out of class and drawing them close to me.

i will be honest.  this is the first school shooting that has penetrated so deeply through the calloused walls of my heart.  i have cried everyday at some point for those parents who lost a child too early.  i can't imagine their grief.  i can't imagine the hole it has left in their heart.  it brings tears to my eyes even now.  all week i have held my children closer.  i have stood a moment longer in their room and watched them as they slept.  i have prayed unceasingly for their protection.  i have been reminded with every tic of the clock that my children are gifts to be treasured.

as a minister, i often get asked why bad things happen to good people.  if there is one question the seeking or the skeptic wants answered it is, "why does God allow suffering?"  He could stop it.  He could intervene.  why doesn't he?  i have a couple of directions i usually go with this honest petition.  i may not have the answers but i have always felt pretty confident in the God who allows suffering to happen.

but not this week.  this week even my confidence was rocked.  why?  why God?  those children had only started their lives.  so young.  so innocent.  it was an act so ruthless.  so needless.  so evil.  couldn't you have intervened here?  i know you can do anything, so why didn't you stop that young man from ever entering that school?

i don't know why He didn't.  i don't know why at all.  but in the midst of my desperate cries, something unexpected invaded my heart and mind.

my child didn't die last week.  i grieve because, as a parent, the thought of losing my child is inconceivable.  as a result, i taste a minuscule amount of their grief.  but what of the God who created those children?  who from the foundation of the world shaped their souls, fashioned their personalities and destined when and where they would be born and live?  He spoke them into existence and proclaimed, "it is very good!"  he delighted in them as a father always delights in his children.  do i really believe that God is unaffected by the tragedy that occurred?  does he not feel it at a level and with an intensity that i can't even imagine?  and does he not feel this grief with every life that is extinguished on every corner of the globe every second of every day?

i don't know why he allowed that horrible tragedy.  all i am sure of is that he is not unaffected by it, that He grieves as a father for his children.

AND

i know this.  He will one day make all things right.  evil will be punished and extinguished.  everything and everyone will be made whole.  a day is coming when there will be no more tears, when insane men will not kill innocent children, when lions will lay next to lambs.

today my prayer isn't why, it's come.  come, lord Jesus.  save us from ourselves.....

who is this Jesus?

the dial of history was set towards this moment. if we don't slow down, we will miss it.  if we don't see beyond presents and trees and shopping and parties and cooler temperatures, it will pass us by.

God donned a cloak of flesh and came to be with us.

it wasn't enough for us to HEAR about what God was like.  it wasn't enough for us to READ about what God was like.  it was time for us to SEE what God was like.

the world needed to see, hear, and touch the divine.  tales and descriptions of him were no longer sufficient or even accurate as much of what was being communicated about him had been skewed by a well-meaning but humanly flawed ethic group known as the Israelites.  they had been given the job of sharing with men and women of every color what God was like.  instead of focusing on the miraculous personhood of God, they allowed their chosen status to become the focal point.  They became arrogant, superior and exclusive.  as a result, they painted a picture of a God who played favorites and who could only be appeased by adherence to hundreds of rules.

to shatter this false impression, Jesus came.  and he was not the God-man that we expected, not the deity that we had designed.  the king of the universe, the one who spoke everything into existence came as an infant, vulnerable and fragile.  he did not enter humanity on a carpet of red but in a bed of straw.  no royal fanfare, only shepherds.  no princely life, just sawdust and carpenter's tools.  no special training to lead with words or swords.  he didn't command armies.  he didn't lead an uprising.  he never sat on an earthly throne.

who was this Jesus?  how could a man who touched lepers, associated with whores, and drank with the outcasts be the king of kings?  the long awaited messiah?  he was unrecognizable to the very group of people who had spent their life awaiting his arrival.

he gave compassion when they expected condemnation.
he extended love when they expected judgment.
he embraced when they expected him to expel.

and his message, they weren't prepared for that at all.  instead of impassioned speeches denouncing political oppression, he spoke of a God who loves and of a kingdom that serves.  his words fell like grace to the sinners and like coals to the religious.

this Jesus came to bring healing and wholeness to those who knew they needed it.  this Jesus came for you.  this Jesus came for me.

happy birthday Jesus.

winning! or winning?

sometimes a high score means you are losing not winning.  i found this out the hard way when i received the results of a personality test a few weeks ago.  now wait.  before you start teasing me for failing a personality test, let me explain.  i am taking a master's level assessment course (you guys know i am back in school, right?)  during the course of the semester, we had to take two personality assessments, one geared to identify potential craziness, and the other to point out normal personality traits.  fear not, i am not crazy.  no, dear friends, my issues showed up on the test that measured "normal" personality.

i was excited to take the "normal" personality test.  i love stuff like that.  when i got my scores, i actually fist pumped when i read my results in the "openness to experience" category.  i scored in the 97% percentile.  awesome!  that meant that i was in the select minority of people who love new experiences.  actually let me just copy for you the explanation for this category...

Description of high scores:Individuals who are high in openness to experience tend to have an active imagination, aesthetic sensitivity, attentiveness to inner feelings, preference for variety, intellectual curiosity, and independence of judgment. Open individuals are curious about both inner and outer worlds, and their lives are experientially richer than those of closed individuals. They are willing to entertain novel ideas and unconventional values, and they experience both positive and negative emotions more keenly than do closed individuals. Open individuals are willing to question authority and are prepared to entertain new ethical, social, and political ideas.

who doesn't want to be like that right?  cough. cough.  wait for it....

when we met for class, our prof went over how to interpret the scores.  he said to ignore the percentiles and to look at the numbered scores.  he said that any score lower than a 35 or higher than a 65 showed a life out of balance.  cough.  cough.  excuse me?  life out of balance?  suddenly i wasn't so proud of my score of 70.

he went on to say that individuals who score high in this category tend to be indecisive and slow to commit to anything.  more coughing.  more fidgeting.  the truth was literally making me warm in the face.  i am those things.  i am so open to experiencing new things that i can't commit to the things that are right in front of me.  the result is a life out of balance.

i have been feeling wobbly for months.  ok maybe years.  so much of my push back about being back in the states flows out of this part of my personality.  after living in europe for a decade, i find it hard to be stimulated by crowely, texas.  i hope that doesn't sound arrogant or condescending.  i don't mean it that way.  i am just saying that a girl with a high score in this category combined with a lifestyle that afforded her the opportunity to explore new cultures, ideas, foods, art, languages, and customs might have a hard time feeling the same buzz in a more culturally uniform location.

so basically it comes down to this:  i am addicted to the adventure of discovery.

the problem is that God has called me back.  back to texas.  to a little town called crowley.  i don't really understand it but at least now i know why i am so restless here.  i have to find a way to bring my numbers back into "normal" range.  to do so, i have figure out what was feeding my addiction in the first place.  i don't have the answers yet.  mainly i have questions.

why is it easier for me to leave than stay?
why do i always have one foot out the door?
why does the thought of planting roots scare me?
why do i feel like i constantly need the buzz of the new?
am i running from something instead of towards something?

i want to be content, not because i am living in my dream city, in my dream house, doing my dream job but because i trust in a savior who loves me, knows me and has a purpose for me that is larger than location.  maybe if i could understand this truth, i would discover the balance i am looking for.  i wouldn't need to move from one place to another, because all the change i am craving is taking place on the inside.  i can still be mentanna, girl with the high score in openness to experience, but with a new target in sight--a life open to Him and to His adventure.

now that would merit a fist pump.

a new political party anyone?

politics, politics.

everyone is asking me who i am voting for, who i support, what i think about the issues.  i will confess to you all that i am not the most politically minded person in the world.  i watch the news.  i read stuff.  i even watched the debates.  and honestly, all i heard during the debate was this....


"that's not true.  i didn't say that."
"did too!"
"did not!"
"liar, liar pants on fire!"

it is the same conversation i hear on a daily basis between by 7 and 9 year old.  it makes me want to tune everyone and everything out.

now, it is time for me to admit something else.  there really is no political party that represents my convictions.  or maybe i am just not listening well enough.  cause to be honest, i can only think of three things that really get me stirred up.  here they are...

ONE:  campaign finance reform.  is anyone else insulted that each candidate has spent 600 million dollars trying to get elected?  have they forgotten that we are in an economic slump and people are out of work?  each one is saying, "of course, i am worried that you are out of work.  of course, i am worried about the economy.  so give my your money and let me make an ad about big bird."  i am offended really.  totally offended.

TWO: i want to help those who need it without enabling them.  how does one do that?  to me this is the central question and i can't answer it apart from my faith convictions.  here's my thought...the united states has 247 million christians.  there are 66 million americans living beneath the poverty line.  what if the church took seriously their commission to care for the poor?  what if Christians stopped ignoring those 2000 verses in the Bible that command them to take care of those in need?  what would that look like?  it would eradicate poverty in this country with enough left over to help around the world.  AND the aid would be personal.  the problem with the government handing out money is that it has no face, no "let's do this together" accountability.  the church could help people get back on their feet without creating a dependency problem.  too optimistic?

THREE: everybody pays something in taxes.  pay $1 if you only have $100, but pay something.  studies prove that when you are financially invested in something that you actually start caring.  we need people to care more not less. 

our problem isn't differences in political ideology; our problem is one of the heart.  we would rather point fingers, deflect attention and blame others than take responsibility for our own actions.  we would rather rant about what is unfair, about how so and so got something that we didn't than actually set aside time out of our busy schedules to do something about injustice in our communities and in our world.  we want everyone else to do the hard work of caring for others so that we can sit home and watch TV.  that's what a representative government is all about right?  letting someone else do what we should be doing?

i am tired.  tired of my own laziness.  tired of depending on others to do what i should be doing myself. my new political party is one of personal action and personal responsibility.  anyone want to join?

welcome fall!

each morning i sit out on my patio, coffee in hand and lift my face to the coolness of the morning.  i smell fall coming and it makes me shiver with excitement.  i am ready for the change.  i am ready for long sleeves, weekend football and jackets with hoods.  i am ready to not sweat all the time.

i feel this way every september.  after weeks and months of 100 degree temperatures, i always anticipate the coming crispness of the fall air.  Once fall has fell, i look forward to winter and pray for miraculous snowstorms that will shut the metroplex down for days on end.  And then, yes you guessed it, i find myself longing for spring, for the brown to be swallowed up by new, vibrant and colorful life.

i like change.  i like the consistent change of the seasons.

when people ask me which season is my favorite, i give one of those answers that annoys everyone...i like them all for different reasons.  sometimes i like to wrap up in a warm blanket in front of the fireplace.  sometimes i want to lay out lizard-like in the sun and absorb every single ray that the sun throws at me. don't box me in and make me choose a favorite season.  i love them all.

i love that God decided that one season wasn't enough.  he scheduled the rhythm of our life to the beat of 4 seasons.

consistent change.  the knowledge that one season will follow another.  no summer lasts forever.  thank God.  eventually the leaves will fall, the snow will come and the ground will drink and prepare itself for spring.

today i am grateful.  today i welcome the fall.