The Light at the End of the Tunnel Came Early

Thirteen and a half years ago, on March 4, 2000, I began to look for the light at the end of the tunnel.  That was the day that my oldest son was born.

I did not have dreams of motherhood as a young girl.  I really never thought I would be a mom, until I met and fell in love with my future husband.  Ryan loves kids and when I married him, I figured kids might be a part of a package deal.  They were.  God has a sense of humor or he likes to teach us lessons, or both.  I found out our oldest was on the way just shy of our second anniversary, and about 3 years earlier than I had planned for.  To top it off he was a premie by 5 weeks - I was robbed of 5 entire weeks of non-motherhood!

I did mothering by the book.  Really, by the book.  "What to expect when you are expecting" got replaced on the shelf by "what to expect in the first year..." I read it faithfully, but my heart was rarely in the game.  I felt like this little guy had stolen me from myself and replaced me with a milk factory and a nanny-housekeeper.  I loved him and cared for him, but deep down and sometimes very openly would talk about the "light at the end of the tunnel."  The day I would send him off to school or that he would fly from the nest and let me be..

When boy 2 arrived on the scene two and a half years later, I still had not quite gotten the "mommy" thing down.  Boy 2 had cholic.  He was intense and sensitive and cried a LOT.  If I was merely bored at this point of playing on the playground and pushing cars around with my two year old, the boredom was now quickly replaced by despair and borderline insanity.  But this too shall pass, I thought.  I received two pieces of advice on a regular basis - one - that this crazy baby-toddler-diaper-food on the ceiling stage would go quickly and before I know it life will be easier!  The light at the end of the tunnel...  The other advice I received was that it would go quickly, therefore I should slow down and enjoy my kids while they are little and not wish their littleness away...I didn't really believe or take either completely to heart.

Boy 3 (Benny) changed all that for me.  It is sad to admit but I think I wasn't 100% mom to all three of our boys until the day Ben was born.  Ian was nearly five and Isaac was 7.  I held Ben in my arms (he was also premature and lived in NICU for 21 days) and realized that the other two were no longer babies.  It donned on me finally, that time keeps moving forward and the boys will never grow younger.  I enjoyed every stage that Ben went through.  When he was one, Ian started kindergarten, and that began five years of me and Ben at home while the other two were in school.  I became very involved in the boy's school that year and took personal interest in each of them.  I began praying daily that I would see the passions and talents of each boy and help to cultivate those in them.  Even though sometimes exhausted and bored, and occasionally wondering about that elusive "light," I also stopped seeing motherhood as a "time-out" from my real life that would somehow resume once the kids were out of the house.  I embraced it as the life that God has given me and the charge I have to nurture and love these boys.

I write today, because tomorrow Benny starts full day kindergarten.  This is the day, the one I have been waiting for - 13 1/2 years of waiting!  It is supposed to be my light at the end of the tunnel.  The pay-off for all that hard mommy work.  I joked today that I was heading straight to the store tomorrow to buy bon-bons (if that is outdated then Ben and Jerry's!) and then taking a nap.  Okay, I really might do that.  But one thing has hit me hard this week.  My kids were all born early.  And I think my light at the end of the tunnel also came early for me.  I think it came 6 years ago, when Benny came into this world. I began to really see my boys.  Loud and whiny, rock throwing and dog hugging, wrestling and wall climbing, homework frustration and Christmas morning anticipation, legos on the stairs, and the toilet seat up, the army guy frozen in a cup of water in the freezer..teen angst, slammed doors, RV trips and fishing for hours, kissing boo boos and pulling my hair out in frustration...always something funny to post on facebook...This is the good life - even the annoying and tiring parts of it.

 I wish we could all figure that out the day our first child comes home.  Some do, but I know I did not.  This post isn't about how I am JUST now getting it, because despite my posts about wanting to sell our children, they are in jest (mostly) and I have spent the last 6 years enjoying them.  Tomorrow isn't the light, but it also isn't the end.  This train just keeps moving and I will hopefully appreciate all the scenery along the way!  (Benny good luck tomorrow - I love you sweetie. )

Hedonism for the Introvert

I am an extreme introvert, which could also just be my physiological and psychological excuse for being an anti-social recluse-monestary-living wannabe who is afraid of public failure and would prefer to keep her nose in a book at all times.  But I really think it is just that God created me to be an introvert.  As an introvert, every time I interact with people, it has to make sense.  It has to have a purpose or else it is sucking me dry of all my energy for no good reason.  As an introverted pastor's wife, I won't lie...it can be a challenge.  I often make a bee-line for the ladies room as soon as service is over.  One, because coffee before church equals the need to make a beeline for the ladies room.  Two, because I can hide for a few minutes and pull myself together before going out to "mingle" with people.

I will write more about this later, as I happen to be reading an excellent book titled "Introverts in the Church" lent to me by a fellow introvert.

Today I want to write a bit about the last two days and my Introverted Recovery and Detox.  You see, I also have low blood sugar.  If any of you have low blood sugar issues you know that when your blood sugar dips, you get jittery, anxious, spacey and may possibly lose some coherency and some social skills to boot.  An introvert on people-overload looks a lot like someone with low blood sugar.  And there are times when it gets extreme.  Ryan was out of the country for two weeks and when he returned and went back to work, our kids went on Spring Break.  I was on stimulus Overdose.  Sometimes I calmly ask for an hour or two "time-out" in my room or to go on a walk...other times I demand that they all leave town.  Thankfully God gave me three boys so I can suggest "wouldn't a boy's weekend be fun?"  But usually I have lost all social skills when it gets really bad and I can't utter a complete sentence therefore it comes out more like..."go.now.must. sleep..."

So I sent them away for two days.  And this is what I did:  Yesterday I ate Ben and Jerry's chocolate brownie ice cream while looking at a facebook post about how nobody ever regrets eating healthy.  This was at breakfast.  I chain-watched movies on netflix until I found a new TV series to chain-watch on netflix.  I wore my pajamas all day.  I ate carrots out of a bag and crackers with my favorite dip for lunch and dinner.  I didn't do dishes or laundry or vacuum or run errands or talk on the phone or even email.  I did whatever I wanted.  Whatever felt good at the time.  As an introvert I felt better and better as yesterday went by and had no human interaction.  From time to time the thought hit me that Ryan is preaching on Hedonism this Sunday - the pursuit of pleasure over all else.  I sort of laughed about the irony while eating my chips and salsa and drinking coffee at 10 pm last night.  By 2 am I finally willed my slightly addictive-personality self to turn off the computer and admit that I cannot watch 100 episodes of this show in one night...I woke up to a silent house.  And it was really nice.

As an introvert I need those times of recovery and the permission to do nothing.  By this morning, while I was tired from staying up all night, I was also refreshed.  I walked around the house, opening windows.  I turned on itunes to my favorite worship music and started making french macarons (which if you know anything about french macarons you know this is NOT hedonism but more a form of masochism...trust me they are harder than they look).

My rested ears, which had not listened to kids or teachers or neighbors or anyone else for 24 hours was struck by the phrase "avalanche of grace..." in the song that was playing.  I sat down heavily and for the next hour listened to God's voice speaking to me and filling the hollowness of my soul.  Sound cheesy?  I doubt any honest person would say they don't know what I mean.  A day of living completely for myself left me feeling empty.

I still feel I need that alone time.  And truth be told, my hand is held up to God sometimes too..."wait...please...let me sit in silence" I say to Him.  I felt His grace this  morning - as if he was just sitting in the corner watching me do my thing.  And then when all the noise was cleared out, when I was no longer the overwhelmed introvert with no capacity to let anything else in, then He joined me.

It felt good yesterday to empty myself out.  And then it also felt good to know I am not the center of all things and my life and pleasures is not all there is.  I don't think my relationship with God is as rich when I don't pull back at times.  A little **hedonism can go a long way.

(ps I am using the term very lightly here...not a theology or psych paper or an endorsement...) :)

Traveller's Tree: the yearly tradition of hanging our ornaments

When I was a kid, I collected teddy bears.  Once family got wind of it, I was the lucky recipient of stuffed teddy bears, teddy bear blankets, teddy bear figurines, teddy bear mugs.  When I left for college I had a lot of bears to pack up.  I think I gave most of them away, save for a few select bears that are stored away for my grandkids.

In High School, I collected Goofy (from Disney) items.  Goofy baseball hat, Goofy t-shirt, Goofy slippers, Goofy telephone.  I still have the slippers.

Collections can be fun, they can give a person a sort of "mission" in which they are always on the hunt for something to add.  They can also be expensive, take up too much room, and give too many well-meaning relatives a reason to add less-desirable items to your shelves.

As a family who like to travel, we notice a lot of traveller collector items.  Early in our marriage, Ryan and I needed to make the important decision..."what do we collect on our travels?"  In every airport and gift shop in the world, there are plenty of options - sweatshirts, hats, silver spoons, snow globes, and little figures.  There is local handiwork, wines, jewelry, patches, pins, foodstuffs.  And of course, the shot glass.  What to do?  After retiring my bear and Goofy collections for good, I really wasn't ready for anything big or clutter-adding.  So we came up with the idea of collecting Christmas tree ornaments.

This has become one of my most favorite traditions of the season.  Ornaments are small, get packed up for eleven months a year, and serve a very practical purpose for the month of December.  Everyone needs something to hang on their tree, and these ornaments provide a large amount of nostalgia to go with their practicality.

Every year, as we decorate our tree, Ryan, the boys and I talk about the stories that go along with each ornament we hang.

We have an ornament from San Francisco Ry and I got on our first anniversary trip.  We have Yellowstone, and the Grand Tetons, one from a lodge we stayed at in Washington State.  Leavenworth, the Grand Canyon, Washington DC, Durango, and the Redwood Forest.  We have a glass bell from Petra, Jordan and a beautiful camel ornament from Cairo.  Florida was ba-humbug the year we were there, so we have a giant sand-dollar we found on the beach, tied up with ribbon and hung on the tree each year.

When Ryan travels alone he brings home ornaments so we can somehow relive his memories with him.  Places like Sweden, Norway, South Africa, Uganda, Tanzania, Venezuela, and Bosnia.  In Greece, the first time there we couldn't find an ornament so we bought a little clay pot to hang.  Our second time, we were there in November and found a hand-painted ornament to add to our collection.  Of course we have our olive wood ornaments bought in Bethlehem (we love cliches in our family).

No town or trip is too small or too big for us.  We pick up ornaments on road trips as well as missions trips, anniversary trips, and bigger family vacations (like Maui).  We are a blessed family to be sure.  Ryan and I made the decision early on to value travel and experience over stuff, and we have been lucky enough to have those experiences on a fairly modest income (by US standards, large by the rest of the world).

Christmas is such a fun time to celebrate memories and traditions.  Some of our ornaments are not from our travels, but are still meaningful - the photo ornaments of the kids with Santa over the years, the ornament Ryan gave me on one of our first ever "dates" back in college.  The first year of marriage ornaments and the "baby's first Christmas" ornaments.  No one can ever accuse me of NOT being sentimental.  Every December we get to remember the experiences and the places we have been blessed to see and to experience.  In a little collection of memories, snapshots of times and places, all hung on our tree.  I look forward to future travels and opportunities to add to our collection (Lord willing!).

In a dark field I wait

Living in the land of Jesus's birth, life, death and resurrection can spoil a person.  It can ruin one's perspective and make living out the Christian life anywhere else seem a bit mundane at times.  It can also change a person, and create memories and experiences that will stay with them forever.

On Christmas Eve 2007, our family of five spent time across the Separation Wall, on the West Bank of Israel, singing songs about Jesus and praying for peace with other believers.  We did not go to where the party was, in Bethlehem, where the light first dawned and Jesus was first placed in an animal's trough.  We were in Beit Sahour, or "Shepherd's Field," where it was believed the nomadic sheepherders tended their sheep.

From where we stood, singing in Hebrew, in Arabic and in English, we could see the lights of Bethlehem, but we stood nearly completely in the dark, excepting one fire, in the middle of our little circle.

There are people who happily embrace God's grace and forgiveness.  Who are easily able to shed the "sinner" and walk as a "saint" made possible of course only by God.  I don't mean self-righteous people, I just mean those lucky people who see God's outstretched hand and gift and say "hey, cool..thanks!"    I, on the other hand, have a hard time with the free gift of God's love and grace.  I see myself as fallen, and imperfect, and it pains me.  I know I can never earn God's favor, and there are days when I struggle to accept it.  I know I cannot walk into heaven on my own two feet, but only on the back of the one who bore my sin on a cross.  But that humbles me to my knees and if God were to come today I wonder if I wouldn't hide from Him.  This is my confession.

In the days that God became man and dwelt among His people, shepherds were a despised profession.  In the caste system of the day, they were considered right "up" there with tax collectors and dung sweepers.  They were called "untrustworthy" and unclean.  The bottom of the heap.  They were not allowed into the temple to pray.  Today I thought of Shepherd's Field, and thought "this is where I belong."  This is where we all deserve to be - outside of Bethlehem, looking in.

On Friday, 20 small children, most of them 6 years old, were brutally killed.  In Sudan, and in Syria, in many regions in our world, parents watch their children suffer and die.  Children watch as their parents are murdered.  There is war, famine, child soldiers, genocide, school shootings, domestic violence.  It is heartbreaking, sickening, horrifying.  This world has a lot of darkness and pain, none of it is easy to accept or to explain.  What amazes me is that the bible says that Jesus came not despite the darkness here, but because of it.  He sees those of us, like me, who some days want to sit in the dark where we feel we belong, and God says "no."

He sent a host of angels to reveal to the outcasts of society, those shepherds in the darkness, that God was here.  That He was born to us, to save us from ourselves.  He said "come to Bethlehem and see for yourselves!"  He invited them to join in the party and to rejoice and find hope. I wouldn't have traded that time in Beit Sahour for anything, and modern-day Bethlehem on December 24 resembles Mardi Gras more than the simple, first celebration of a baby's birth.  However, this season I want to accept the fact that though we don't deserve it, though we humans are all unclean, we are all outcasts, God has announced His presence to us.  He invites us into the story, to come to Him.  Although I put my trust in God 20 years ago, I still have days when I wake up and have to say, "I will go and see.  I will accept that You love more than I can fathom. "  How long will we wait in the field before we go down to Bethlehem?

Merry Macgyver Christmas: the yearly tradition of making something from nothing

I adore the Christmas season.  I love the softer, more golden shade of sunlight in the afternoon, cool nights (I live in So Cal after all), carols playing on pandora radio, balsam scented candles burning and peppermint tea in my favorite mug.  As a believer in Christ the season is a great celebration of "God with us" or God coming down to meet us here on earth and to walk with us.  I love all the traditions that come with the season as well.  Decorating the tree with ornaments we have picked up on all our travels, remembering each trip as we hang them.  Putting my churches on top of the bookcase, hanging our stockings and setting out our olivewood nativity, purchased in Jerusalem while we were living there.

We decorate fairly simply, but every year I want to join in the thousands of men and women who dust off their crafting skills and make something cool.  Now that there is pinterest, we can share ideas online and it has most likely spurred a sort of craft "revival" even for those who might have not ventured into those uncharted waters before.  I laugh at some of the ideas that really take a whole lot of money to accomplish even with a stash of online Michael's 50% off coupons and maybe a friend who owns a lumber mill.  Of course I still like those ideas, I just don't have a budget for them and am secretly (or not so secretly) jealous that they have a friend who owns a lumber mill.

That said, there are many, many inexpensive ideas out there for someone like me on a tight budget.  When I was a kid, I loved to watch "Macgyver" on TV (no not a flat screen, no not on netflix).  The guy could take the simplest more random things and turn them into something amazing.  He makes Jason Bourne, and 007 look a little un-creative if you ask me.  Just two examples I found online: In the first ever episode, he plugs a sufuric acid leak with chocolate.  Later, he builds bombs out of swamp gas, bamboo shoots, and mud.  I am not saying I do, or do not condone bombs, but this guy is seriously cool.

Back to the point - the holidays seem to bring the Macgyver out of people, and definitely out of me.  I dig in the bottom of my Christmas bins to find broken berries, bits of string, and scraps of fabric and can decorate my lamp shade.  I can hang old dollar store ornaments from the chandalier and use a "seen better years" tablecloth as my tree skirt.  I love to hear about other people's resourcefulness and how they can create something cozy, beautiful and magical with very, very little.  My favorite "Macgyver Christmas" craft ever?  The following wreath, made from the simplest of items -

An ugly bush (really, really ugly)

A metal hanger...

Taken and pulled and squished and molded into a sort-of circle

Cut branches overlapped thick end under the thin end and tied with simple twine

See?

= a wreath to hang!

Here it is in our livingroom

A better look - also some more of that bush made it's way into a vase wrapped in old ribbon

I love projects like these because they are easy enough even for an impatient and low budget gal like myself.  And they are so versatile - you could use any greenery you have in your backyard or in the greenbelt or in your neighbor's backyard (rosemary, holly, cyprus tree...hey those have to be good for something other than being a tall, unsightly 70's-esque filler tree).  And if you don't have twine, use wire, or cut strips of fabric, or yarn.  I hereby decree that everyone needs to make this wreath.  Yes, I am excited about this project.  And don't even get me started on what you can do with a 3 dollar can of chalkboard paint.  Pretty much anything can be turned into something cool if there is chalkboard paint on it (unless you are my five year old...or my favorite shirt).  I hope to hear of many more Macgyver Christmas projects this year - I guess words like "reclaimed" and "repurposed" would be the more cool hipster/pinterest/good blogger way to phrase it.  So, devoted reader (Mom? Grandma?)...do you have some good Macgyver Christmas stories to share?

Short Stanley:just your run of the mill 7th grade day plus one bully

My oldest son is a very nice kid.  In the fourth grade he was bullied.  The kids were sorting out the pecking order and anyone willing to pick on someone else was safe.  If someone refused to turn and be a pick-ee, then they remained a picked-on.  It was a terrible year for our family and I was heartbroken and angry at the same time.   After that year things settled down but he never really developed close friendships with anyone at his school.

This year, our move to San Diego County from the OC has been wonderful for him.  A fresh start that we were all praying for.  He has really great buddies from school and from church.  The boy has more than made up for his lackluster social life leading up to now.  We are thrilled for him.

But today he came home and told me that a kid at school threw him up against a fence and punched him in the stomach.  What???!

The story goes like this:  Kid borrows money from Isaac.  Kid doesn't pay Isaac back.  Isaac continues to ask for his money back.  Isaac gives Kid "the eye" and rubs his fingers together (symbolizing "you owe me money").  Kid says repeatedly that he will not pay Isaac back.  Turns out Kid borrows from everyone at the school and doesn't pay anyone back.  He cusses and isn't very nice.

Today the Kid finally got mad at Isaac for asking for his money back.  Kid pushed and punched Isaac.

Here was my mom response:  Isaac you have no idea what hurts are going through Kid's mind and in his life that make him mean.  Maybe Kid is poor and needs that two dollars he spent on a poweraid more than you need it.  Maybe Kid's mother doesn't love him like your mother loves you.   Just let it go and try to be nice to Kid because he is hurting inside.

This was my pastor husband's response:  Punch Kid in the nose if he ever pushes you again.  He won't expect it and he will get a reputation for being the kid who got punched in the nose and will never be a bully again.  And he deserves it.

  Okay....

This is what happened...Isaac said to Kid..."you better leave me alone or I will get my 8th grade friends to back me up." Eighth grade friends (Isaac is the only 7th grader in an 8th grade class) start walking towards Kid.  The shortest 8th grader (let's call him Stanley) makes threatening hand in fist gesture and says "you just messed with the wrong 7th grader..."  Another 8th grader tells short 8th grader, "You are sooo not intimidating, Stanley (again, the name has been changed to protect Stanley)." Kid runs away and later in the day Isaac is giving Kid the eye again. (You'd think he would be afraid of the guy).

 He was laughing while he told me the story today in the car.  Whether this happens again, or if he punches the kid in the nose or prays for him or becomes best friends with him, I am just so happy he is not feeling beat down by it.  I am not even going to make this profound...I just want to visualize short 8th grade Stanley (shorter than most 7th graders according to my son) doing the fist in hand motion..."you messed with the wrong 7th grader, Kid..."  

1 Corinthians 1:25

Worship in the front row

It takes a certain type of person to sit in the front row at church.  Usually you need to have a good amount of self-confidence to sit up front.  Or you need to be a part of a bigger group of friends that all sit in the front, so you can still feel like you are not in the front row.  Maybe you are a more mature member of the church who knows that no one likes to sit in the front, so you sit there to open up room in the back.  Or maybe you never show up late to church or have your cell phone ring or have to sneak out early to take your kid to a sport's event.  So the front row makes good sense.     Or maybe you are friends with the pastor or you think you should be friends with the pastor.  Because everyone knows that the pastor sits in the front row.

In fact, if you are new to a church and wonder who the pastor is...just look in the front row. He's (or she's) probably there. 

Ryan sits in the front left row of our church.  If I wasn't married to him I think I would sit in the back row.  It would be so much easier for me to relax.  Namely, because I figure people are paying way more attention to me that they really are.  And I am a goofball clutz that embarrassing things happen to, and in the back row those things are less noticeable.  

While sitting or standing in the front row of church, these are the general types of things that go through my head... "is my bra strap showing? " "Is my skirt tucked into my tights? " "Is my tag sticking out?"  Will my chair break? (this has happened)  "will people notice that I am not putting something into the offering basket?" There is also always the hazard of getting spit on or having the pastor make eye contact with you...which of course if your spouse is the teaching pastor for the day you have to just grin and bear that one...(or you can throw a spit wad...which only very immature pastor's wives or front-row sitters would ever do).

Last week I came in a few minutes late due to some unforeseen drama with the boys that morning.  I came in, walked up to the front, turned off my cell phone, set down my purse and water, then knocked my water and purse over, spilling out my collections of gum wrappers, to-do lists, pens and wadded up dollar bills that I keep in my not-so tidy purse.  Disruptive maybe?  Then I realized that I didn't have a bulletin and I always take notes so I excused myself to go to the back again to grab a bulletin.  Once the sermon started, someone came to sit by me and whisper that they thought Ryan's truck lights were on.  I left again to go check.  It was another white, giant hemi-engined man-truck (ok that is sexist...but that is how I see it) with it's lights on...not Ryan's.  So I had to go back to the front row again.  All the while I am wondering if people are asking "can't she just sit still?"

This week, during musical worship, I struggled again.  In the back row I feel the freedom to sing and praise God without thinking about anyone else other than me and God.  If I need to let things go, I may lift my hands up.  If I am happy I might clap or move with the music in my white-girl way.  I might sit if I feel the need to posture myself in a show of humility.  In the back row, I might even kneel.  In the front row I wonder...if I stand while most everyone is sitting what will others think?  People often watch the pastor to see what he is up to - if he sits, they sit, if he claps, they clap.  If he stands, they stand.  I personally don't like that practice because I think it is important for people to do what they feel led to do during that time.  Worship isn't a choreographed sing-along.  Worship (in music)  is one way believers express to God their gratitude and praise.  It is often done in a large group setting, but it is the heart God is hearing and not the outward expression that matters.  

Do I do my best in the front row to do back-row worship?  Yes I try.  But my request to worship leaders and to pastors is this - please teach those of us in every row what worship needs to be.  Remind us that we can express ourselves however we feel we need to - without judgement or ridicule (although if you dance around the church we might giggle a tiny bit...).  

I know I will continue to sit in the front row (except for those days Ryan is out of town...). I know I need to learn once again in one more way that I don't live my life for those around me, but rather for the God who made me. Today I sat when others were standing.  I felt like that made the most sense but it was hard for me to do.  After church someone came to me and said "I really wanted to sit before God during worship but no one was sitting...I saw you sitting and it gave me the courage to sit."  It sounds so silly but if you are a part of church you probably know what I am talking about.  It was a good reminder to me once again to let God dictate what I do and not the opinion of others.