a long way to go

photo © 2009 taylorandayumi (via: Wylio)Yesterday as we were driving to her swimming lesson, My Girl suddenly asks why her daddy is a pastor.  My un-eloquent response: "Um, because he believes God wants him to be."

And her response to that: "I don't think I'll be a pastor.  That's mostly a men's thing." ARGH!!!

It wasn't very long ago that she was planning to go to seminary and be a children's pastor just like her daddy.  But not anymore, apparently.

Which is perfectly fine.  Heck, she's only 6.  I've only known one person who knew definitively what she was going to be at age 6 (a pediatrician, which she now is at age 36).  And I have no great desire for my daughter to be a pastor.  Not because she's a girl, but because I know how crazy hard this pastor's life can be, and really, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. 

But it bothers me that already she has picked up our cultural clues that being a pastor is "mostly" a male thing.  It's not that she thinks a woman can't be a pastor.  Just this past week our female music pastor preached at our church.  And we've visited with friends at a local church with a woman senior pastor.  But still, almost everyone she sees in a pulpit is a man.  I can say, "Women can be pastors; women can be pastors!" as much as I want, but until she sees that women really are pastors, including senior pastors, my words aren't going to mean much.  Not to this child who has reached the age where being alike is very important.

It just goes to show that churches may preach whatever they want, but if their actions don't match their words, it's the actions that are going to teach.

senior adult prom

Yes, though we are neither seniors nor adults (well, 2 of us), we went to our church's Senior Adult Prom last Friday night.  I was skeptical.  Though at the last minute some info went out that everyone at the church was welcome, it was still intended to be for senior adults, with youth "chaperones."  Which is totally cool, but not necessarily appropriate for my small but rambunctious family.  But My Man was DJ'ing the event and it was the kids' only chance to see him that day, so we went, with me thinking we wouldn't stay long.

As it turns out, we were the ONLY young family there.  Not surprising, but I had told the kiddoes I thought there'd be a couple other young ones around.  And when we got there, it was quite a bit like walking into a middle school dance.  Lots of standing around, staring at one another, afraid to touch the food until someone says OK, and definitely no dancing on the dance floor.  Goodness gracious, and we were expecting these lifelong Baptists to dance?!?  What were we thinking?

Even my usually out-going, no-holds-barred Girl was infected by the middle school mania.  She would not dance.  Not even her signature moves!  So instead she climbed on chairs.  And Daddy when he wasn't playing music.  And me.  And whatever else she could climb on.  Oh, and she ate, as did The Boy.  They ate and ate and ate.  Heck, they put the food tables right out where everyone could get to them!  I lost count of the times I wiped food off the floor or caught food coming out of mouths when it wasn't what they expected. 

So let me repeat - I was skeptical.

But then something happened.  Some of the senior couples started dancing among the tables.  Not on the dance floor, mind you, but among the tables.  And then so did my kids.  Even the Shy One!  And gradually people moved their way to the dance floor.  By the end of the evening, there was lots of dance floor dancing, and my kids were right in the middle of it.  The Girl spent whole songs in the middle of the spotlight, refusing to share it with anyone else!  And The Boy even joined the cha-cha slide line.  My Boy!  My Reserved-in-public One!  What happened??

What happened was a great and fun time.  And I am so very thankful we went.  We all had a blast, every last one of us.  And you know what - I'm even a little thankful that we were the only young family.  Because those seniors and those youth welcomed my kids with open arms in a way that probably wouldn't have happened if there'd been a posse of the little hellions.  And while I appreciate our church for a number of things, one of the things that I miss about our previous church is the greater inter-generational interaction there.  It was a smaller church with fewer young families, so it was just easier to know and interact with people of different ages.  I miss that.

But I am thankful for this one special night when I was reminded of how great a church for all ages can be.  And how blessed we can be when we cross those invisible barriers sometimes. 

home

photo © 2005 Jeffrey (via: Wylio)This week I went to Durham for a couple days to visit a friend, and it felt like coming home.  Coming home to a place, not just people, which I'm not sure I've ever felt before.  Ever. 

My family moved around a good bit when I was a kid, so I never associated home with a particular place.  Home was wherever my family was.  This lack of place-based home has been a blessing in some ways.  It means I'm always excited about new places and don't find leaving horribly heart-rending.  But it also means I feel a little disconnected from the idea of home.  My roots are shallow and scattered.  And though home is still mostly the people I love, as it should be, I could move with those people just about anywhere (in the country at least) and still call it home, even when I feel like an outsider in the community. 

So when I found myself struggling not to cry as I was leaving Durham, I was a bit taken aback.  Because as much as I would've loved to stay with my friend another day, it wasn't leaving her that was making me cry.  It was leaving Durham.  I could feel it physically in my chest. 

So maybe I do have a place-based home after all.  Which kind of makes me sad.  Because I may never live there again, and frankly, I don't want to yearn for a place I cannot have.

But I am hopeful.  Hopeful that eventually this new adopted place will become home.  Hopeful that eventually that trip back up into the mountains will inspire the same kind of yearning.  Hopeful that eventually living here will just feel right rather than novel.  It could happen.

simplicity

photo © 2010 Andrei Bocan (via: Wylio)
This week at church, the Lenten focus is on the discipline of simplicity.  My first thought when My Man told me about it was, "Oh, I've got that one down."  In comparison to many in our community, we're pretty simple - no smart phones, no cable, no new clothes (except for underwear, socks and gifts, of course!), very little travel, very little eating out or going to the movies, very few new toys or books.  Much of the "stuff" in our house is mis-matched hand-me-downs.  And even the newer stuff looks like it was a yard-sale find (two kids)!  Pottery barn, we are not.  But does all that have anything to do with simplicity?

I think not.  I think it has to do with living within our means.  And we still have two lap-tops and wireless.  Two cars.  Two cell phones.  A home with a mortgage that is full of stuff.  Food of all kinds.  Appliances of all kinds.  Lots of toys and art supplies.  Though our lifestyle might seem "simple" in comparison to some of the lifestyles around us, that's just because of where we live. 

None of this has anything to do with spiritual discipline.  What, then, is the spiritual discipline of simplicity?  I am, alas, going to miss the sermon this week so I won't get the answer there!  I tried googling it.  Yes, Google.  And found very little.  Some general pronouncements of living lightly on the Earth and not allowing our possessions to own us.  But what does that mean??  How does living simply draw us closer to God?  Because living simply is not simple.

I hypothesize that the lack of Google info on simplicity as a spiritual discipline is at least partly because our culture is so at odds with simplicity.  Schedules, houses, vacations - they're all full of stuff.  What does it mean, then, for us in this culture right here right now, to live simply?

Is it an ecological thing?  Taking care of the Earth?  Living lightly, conserving resources, supporting local business.  All noble, noble goals that we should be involved in, but is that simplicity?  It's certainly not simple.  As one who bakes bread, I can wholeheartedly affirm that it is much simpler (and probably cheaper) to just buy a loaf of pre-sliced bread off the shelf! 

Is it a financial thing?  Being careful with money so that there is enough - both for ourselves and for others.  Being thoughtful about what we buy.  Purchasing sustainable goods, and only those that we really need or add something meaningful to our lives.  And getting rid of the goods (and services) that don't meet that criteria.  Is that simplicity?  It's certainly not simple. 

Is it a time thing?  Allowing for free, unfettered time.  Intentionally working in jobs that allow such time.  Refusing to schedule too much - for either us or our kids.  But when we have that time, what do we do with it?  Making the most of time - that is not so simple. 

I cannot be a Radical Homemaker.  I have to work.  I don't want to get rid of all my stuff.  I don't want to hang all our laundry on a clothesline.  I find it difficult to buy all organic and/or local.  I wish we were able to go out to eat or to a movie any time we were asked or wanted to.  If we were able, I'd go to Disney World in a heartbeat. 

What, then, is simplicity as a spiritual discipline for me?  In what way can I live more simply such that it draws me (and my family) closer to God? 

Lots of questions today.  I should read Richard Foster, I guess.  I was just hoping for an easier, faster, simpler answer ;).

lenten fail

Not even two weeks into Lent and I'm already failing at one of my Lenten disciplines - praying the hours.  I intended to have morning, midday and evening prayer every day.  But I keep forgetting about it!  Particularly on the weekend.  I'm better about it during the week when my schedule is more regular, but even then I tend to forget the midday prayer.  I'm certainly praying more than I was before, but I'm not as disciplined as I'd hoped.  Of course, making something a habit is hard work initially...until it becomes a habit...so I shouldn't be surprised that I'm not very good at it.  But there is grace, lots and lots of grace, so I'll keep plodding along.

My other Lenten discipline - making or giving something for someone else every day - is actually easier than I anticipated, but I feel like I'm cheating.  So far I have made baby clothes and food and cards, and I have donated to Kiva and the food pantry.  And I'm also knitting a prayer shawl.  Which I thought would be easy (and is), but I had not counted on how long it would take to knit a prayer shawl.  For me, anyway.  So it is easy for me to knit a few rows every day and cross off my "making or giving something" discipline for the day.  It seems too easy.  But it is within the parameters of the commitment I made! 

Maybe next year I should go the more easily measured route of giving something up for Lent, but these disciplines of time are helping me to be less hap-hazard in my prayer and service.  And maybe by the end of Lent, they'll be a little closer to regular habits.

Oh, and one more Lenten fail: I tried to make that spiral Lenten wreath out of salt dough.  Epic fail!  I tried it as both a spiral and then as a cross (with only 7 candle holes, for each week of Lent), thinking if it were smaller and thicker that maybe then it would work.  Um, no.  Maybe if I had smaller itty-bitty candles, but I could not get the dough to shape right to hold a regular candle.  Oh well.  I think I'll break out some plain votives and just place them in a cross shape on our table!

free like God

photo © 2009 Scarleth White (via: Wylio)
A good, good friend sent me this quote:

"To live no tight, neat role is truly sacrificial, it is also truly creative because it leaves us open and free (dare we say) like God himself." (from Alan Jones, dean of the Cathedral of San Francisco)



The quote comes from a Eugene Patterson book (The Pastor) that I haven't read, but it's in reference to his wife, who lived her calling as a pastor's wife with "no tight, neat role."  I tend to approach this lack of role as a burden, or a trial to be overcome.  I tend to feel "less than" since I can't claim a particular vocation (including SAHM).  But I have never, not once, considered that this makes me "free like God." 
 
But I can see how in some ways it does.  Though I do have roles that limit my freedom - office-worker, mom - I have a lot more daily freedom than many in this world.  I am free to:

• make home-cooked meals, or not, as I desire.
• work on knitting and sewing, or not, as I desire.
• write a blog!
• make praying the divine hours (and praying in color) a practice that I can do at work.
• spend regular time with My Girl and her neighbor friend, who thinks it's "really weird" that I make bread.
• play Candyland and Zingo and Memory over and over and over.
• read books.  Lots and lots of books.
• read blogs.  Lots and lots of blogs :).
• start a book club, or not, as I desire.
• do small acts of service.
• sleep, or not (the "not" is most likely when I have my nose in a book I can't put down).
• clean, or not (mostly not).
• play with my children.
• visit a friend.

I have lots of freedom.  Sometimes I wish that freedom were more limited, that my life were more defined.  I can get overwhelmed by choice and lean toward "stuckness."  But I'm learning to value my freedom as a gift.  A gift to be (dare I say) like God.

decisions for the lenten road

photo © 2007 Davide Restivo (via: Wylio)I didn't make it to the Ash Wednesday service after all.  Well, I walked into the Sanctuary, but The Boy immediately started crying, so I walked right back out.  The Girl stayed - because she wanted to!  She was intrigued by the ashes, I think, and she came home with an ash cross on her forehead, though her daddy said it took her a while to decide whether or not to go up for one.

I didn't, then, decide on my Lenten discipline until Thursday.  Close enough, right?  I picked two, actually.  Two disciplines - no fasting.  I'm going to try to be more aware of what I put in my mouth and more careful about what comes out of it, but I decided not to actually fast from anything. 

Instead, I'm going to try to pray the divine hours.  Well, three of them - morning, midday and evening.  I was a little worried about this one, as My Man has absconded with our Common Prayer book (which he did buy, I must admit), but a friend showed me that all of the prayers are also online.  Hallelujah!  Still, I've already failed at this lenten discipline.  I completely forgot about it last night.  It never even occurred to me.  *sigh*  But there is grace for the road, and I take one more step forward today.

My second discipline is this: I commit (fearfully) to making/writing/donating something for someone else every day of Lent.  Strange, right?  But the idea is that this commitment will draw me closer to Jesus on my walk with Him by challenging two of my weaknesses: lack of discipline and tendency to hoard. 

I spend a lot of time in my head every day - thinking, thinking, thinking.  But I lack follow-through.  Oh, I follow through on some things, but I also tend to get home from the office, plop into a chair and read a book.  Or watch TV in the evenings.  Neither of which is a bad thing, but they are distracting things.  I am easily distracted from more important work and service.  I can hear some of you saying, "But you should have rest and fun and not work all the time."  Yes, that's true.  But I should work and serve some of the time.

I also spend a lot of time worrying about money - paying the bills, saving for retirement, thinking about saving for college, etc.  I am naturally a saver, and it bothers me when I feel like there's not enough to save for the future, for the unexpected.  But I am well aware that my worry is ridiculous.  I tend to operate out of a fear of scarcity, when I should be acting out of abundance.  I have an abundance.  So, so very much.  So this Lent I am going to practice giving rather than saving.

My favorite online Lenten reflection so far is this one by Jan Edmiston at A Church for Starving Artists. An exerpt:

The level of sacrifice that God is asking for is not about giving up something we love for the sake of removing a pleasure from our lives. It's about giving up what is methodically destroying us from the inside out. And we hold each other's hands as we make these difficult choices to do something excruciating for the sake of saving our lives.

First we need to figure out what it is that's killing us: greed? workaholism? alcohol? porn? bitterness? anger? At the very least, Lent is a good time to figure out what's keeping us from being fully alive and healthy. It will probably take more than 40 days, but this is a start.

What is keeping me from being fully alive and healthy?  Greed.  Laziness.  Ingratitude.  And more.  It will definitely take longer than 40 days to overcome these, but each day I will try to take a step along the road toward resurrection.