thursday thoughts

I'm in the middle of the mad dash to the end of the semester. No time for organized thoughts, just a dumping ground:

• It's almost over!!! The semester from heck, that is. Actually, it hasn't been as bad as I feared it would be, but I'm still mighty ready for it to be done. This morning The Girl told me she would be glad when I wasn't a student anymore because she doesn't get to see me much right now.  Fortunately, the rest of the schoolyear should be better as it's supposed to be all downhill from here.
• The Girl's first piano recital is tonight. I'm hoping she'll play toward the beginning and then The Boy will flip out (AFTER her pieces) so I can leave (!). Except I think The Man might wrestle me for the privilege of being the one to walk out (and we know who would win that match).
• Yesterday I tried to price what it would cost us to go to DisneyWorld. *sigh* Too much, of course. I don't know why I did that to myself.
• I'm tired of facebook making me feel like the uncool kid who never gets invited to the parties (still). Stupid facebook, I know it's not your fault, but I love/hate you.
• I read this post about sexual trafficking and just about lost my faith in God/dess (again). I do not understand how there can be such evil and suffering in the world if a good God/dess is somehow over it all. I get that in our freedom, we are free to make and do awful things. But shouldn't there be a line somewhere that can't be crossed? I still believe (partly because the alternative is worse - that there is no ultimate "love wins"), but I feel closer to the agnostics these days. I still love the message of Jesus, but it's hard to see God/dess in the daily rape and torture of young girls.
• I want a sabbatical from church. It's not gonna happen, but it sounds nice, nonetheless. I don't want a break from community. Just the opposite, in fact. I want to find community. But I also want space for some spiritual intention and searching and listening and trying, and sometimes (often) it's hard to find that (for me) in church. It may be my own issue more than the church's (I think it's a combination), but the issue is real and only seems to loom larger as time goes on. How did I get to this place? And where do I go from here?

Huh. These were kind of dark and dreary thoughts. To match the rain today, I guess. I should've titled this Thursday Thankfulness and forced myself to look for the gifts. There are many, after all.

• a whole afternoon alone with My Man for his birthday.
• a lovely wedding in which my Friend smiled a big, huge smile the entire day.
• children who are healthy and run to me even before I get out of the car.
• a home with much, much more than I need.
• extended family who love and care without strings.
• springtime. even in the rain.
• friends who understand my angst and love me anyway.
• hope for a new tomorrow.

There is goodness in the midst.

all of me?

A few days ago I saw a former minister of mine for the first time since college. I was looking forward to it. I thought it would be fun to share stories, even briefly.

So when I saw him, I asked him what he was doing, how he liked it. He told me about his kids, his town, his job. And then he asked me..."How many kids do you have?" "What does your husband do?" "What kind of minister is he?" "What kind of Baptist is he?"

And that was it. He moved on to the next person.

Kids.
My husband's job.

He never asked about me. Though he later grilled my husband about his job, he still never asked about me. It kinda stung.

I love my kids, and I love my husband. They are, without a doubt, the greatest gifts in my life. But they are not me. They contribute to the whole of me, but they are not all of me.

Now, it doesn't really matter that I didn't get to share much of myself with someone I haven't seen in 15 years and will probably never see again. It does matter, though, that I try to see all of the person in front of me, whoever that may be. It does matter that I ask, that I listen, that I see. It matters that I put the computer down, close the book, step away from the busy-ness, step over the fear.

This is a good reminder for me in these busy days of almost-but-not-yet, when it's too easy for me to bury my head. The people in front of me matter, more than my own schedule or frustration or timidity.

I matter, and so do you.

 

my easter monday miracle

I will always think of the day after Easter as the day I was given life when I expected death.

Five years ago, I was pregnant. The week before Easter I had that first pregnancy-confirmation doctor's visit where you're supposed to see the "bean" and the heartbeat. Only there wasn't a heartbeat. I wasn't too worried because I thought I was only about 6 weeks along rather than 8. The doctor, though, ordered some blood tests and we made another appointment for the day after Easter.

After lots of phone calls to the lab about lost blood and going back to the doctor to get it re-drawn, I finally talked to a nurse about my bloodwork on Maundy Thursday. Much to my shock, she told me I would almost certainly miscarry (really, I think she would've left out the "almost" except that medical professionals are taught to never be certain). She gave me instructions about calling the doctor on call (since everyone would be out for the holiday) and going to the hospital as soon as the inevitable began. She may have said, "I'm sorry," but I don't remember, though I do remember sitting on our guest bed with the embroidered sage green satiny duvet cover.

Thus commenced the longest Holy Weekend of my life as I waited for death to come.

Only it never did. And on Easter Monday at that next doctor's appointment, the bean and the heartbeat were alive and strong.

And I cried tears of joy as I choked out, "She told me I would miscarry."

The doctor was shocked. It turns out that my blood hormone levels were low, but not really low enough to say I would almost certainly miscarry. The nurse had made a mistake. Part of me was angry at her, but mostly I was just so very, very thankful for a tiny beating heartbeat. So very thankful for life ... unexpected life.

My Boy wasn't really a miracle, just a bit of a medical anomaly. But to me he will always be my Easter Monday Miracle. How much we would've missed without this beautiful heartbeat:

Godly play: palm Sunday

Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!

I love the palms. And the praise. And the donkey. And the subversiveness of our Lord. But there is an undercurrent of both mania and tragic sadness in this story. Oddly enough, it reminds me a bit of the Hunger Games this year - cheering for the one who will die.

But I did not draw that connection for my children. I stuck to the script! Here's our very simple road to Jerusalem and our posterboard Jesus. (For a more fabulous picture of what a Palm Sunday story can look like, check out Watkins Every Flavor Bean.).

Also pictured in the top picture are our prayer pots, which now contain a heart (to remind us that God loves us always), a bean (to remind us that God helps us grow), a bandaid (to remind us that God helps us when we hurt) and a coak and palm branch (to remind us to praise God).

Below the road to Jerusalem is pictured a Holy Week family devotional guide which My Man organized for our children's ministry at church. I think it's pretty fabulous. For each day of Holy Week, there's a one-page devotion with Scripture, some kind of physical item (like a palm leaf for Palm Sunday or coins for clearing the Temple) and a question for the family to consider for that day.

In addition to the daily family devotion guide, I hope to tell the Maundy Thursday Godly play story (which includes Good Friday) and the Easter story this week. This is going to be a busy week, so I'm frankly unsure if I'll manage to get it all together, but I hope so.

May we walk in the footsteps of Jesus this week.