aspirations

If money and time were no option, and this chair wasn't so comfy, I would:

1. Conquer a true, traditional sourdough bread. I hear that pitas, pizza crusts and even pancakes can arise from a good starter, not to mention that we need to have some foresight into BLT season. 

2. Go on vacation. I'm semi-watching The Beach, which while not that super of a movie, it does take place along a sandy beach. 

3. Paint my master bathroom. It's been stripped and even taped for a month now. 

4. Eat a snack. Said task would be easier once #1 is accomplished. (MMmmm, warm with some butter and jam?...)

5. Speaking of jam, I have high aspirations when strawberry season rolls around. 

6. Finish up the NT Wright book. But it's a bit heavy for an evening read, so I'm wading. 

7. Menu plan. We've been eating the same thing over and over and over. I need some variety. Especially in the meatless options. 

8. Write something more than meaningless blog posts about the shoulda/coulda/wouldas. 

Now that I have a countdown rolling to a true "When I can..." I'm going to have to start putting these tasks to lists so I don't wander around aimlessly before giving up completely and just heading to the lake. 

(a)vocation?

There's the moment when you know. 

But then comes the time when you know that you know. And this moment begs the question: so, what will you do about it?

so emotional*

I imagine that writing a weekly teen drama likens itself to preaching more than you think. You come up with this wonderful idea in theory, but in the week-to-week, the art of revealing the deeper level of reality becomes challenging. The challenge isn't "more creativity" or gizmos or gadgets; those simply cover up the issue. Rather, it requires the hard work of uncovering feelings and emotions and then the truths behind them. 

Which is why Glee welcomed me back to the club tonight. Finally, some depth in the presentation, not just choosing "hot topics." 

First, the obvious. Whitney. May those pipes (and her soul) rest in peace. Layering her tribute while allowing characters to grieve for future departures smoothed over all the drug-related, mistake-filled chatter that could have come and rather focused energies on something that our culture tends to glaze over: healthy grief. Allowing ourselves the opportunity to realize that a phase or a place has come to pass. Acknowledging our fears of moving forward - what will this look like? 

Next, graduation. It's rapidly approaching and seniors are getting some form of itis, but in their anxious talk of the unknown they leave in the wake those who have loved and cared for them up to this point. The scene of Burt & Kurt fighting sentimentality struck a chord. A parent spends all those years loving and supporting and encouraging; nights awake, arguments navigated, values instilled and suddenly you're left with a mantle full of trinkets and certificates. I can't name a single graduating high school senior that reads this blog (do they read any blogs? I'm so out of touch), but if they did, I'd jump through the screen and shake their little shoulders and say, "Be gentle! Your parents love you and this is hard on them, too!"

And don't forget the support staff. Shoe's scene of coming to realize how much he'd miss the students who allowed him to explore a deeper place of his own personhood could've led me to weeping. I'm sure every teacher has "that class." Shoe retains the advantage of realizing with one month to go how he's enjoyed - and can enjoy - these students. I hope everyone in the student-serving sector takes a time prior to graduation to really appreciate what their students have brought into their life. And in his fear that they won't come back for his wedding, we catch a glimpse of what each of us deeply hope for: that somehow, somewhere, in someway, a speck of what had been created in terms of community will continue on. Which is why I get a bit teary when I see FB updates involving former students (AG, MK, DH) getting together with spouses and children for dinner. Or standing beside another at the front of a church for a wedding, 5 years later. 

Now, the subthemes. I've been chomping at the bit to bring up the Token Christian Kid (which I feel probably made an appearance thanks to the large number of other demographics in the bunch). And, in observing a practice of highlighting stereotypes he's: homeschooled, awkward about sex, dons hipster tattoos, and a desire to talk about faith in every other sentence. But I suppose I'll give an E for Effort in that at least he has dreadlocks and seems genuine. 

And the "texting as cheating" idea. Youth directors - in the words of Sugarhill Gang, jump on it! What a great convo starter. Because integrated in this little lover's quarrel is the idea of body and soul (so use that scene from Token Christian Kid and Sam in the locker room. Full of fodder.), that love is much more than touch, kiss and sex. That relationships also have something to do with what a person does with your heart. 

Whew. I think that about covers it. Except to say, fantastic closing scene. Who doesn't love a good Whitney dance party? 

*triple word score if you know from where the title emerged 

7 Things I've learned since Sunday

1. Not all flu bugs are the "24 hour" variety.

2. Mom's advice to clean your toilets every week can be quite self-serving at times. Do it. 

3. Grandmas are heros. Thanks Marj for taking the bigs. 

4. When you're not necessarily taking in enough calories to sustain yourself, the dependent little one gets a bit perturbed. 

5. Adults make worse patients than kids. Especially when the other adult is also sick. 

6. You can judge the stages of healing by how good coffee sounds.

7. This is NOT the week for me to be down for the count. Trip to Baltimore, multiple other work trainings scheduled and need to write (another) talk for this weekend's retreat. 

if we turn a table

The "kids" used to tease me when I introduced them to the idea of "Jesus-in-the-Temple Angry" thinking the idea existed only to justify whatever soapbox I happened to be building. I simply wanted to make the point that some things perhaps upset God and we should be frustrated as well. I stand by my opinion.

However, my view of Jesus-in-the-Temple Angry expanded a bit this morning. I read about how Jesus threw out everyone who had "set up shop" in the Temple, buying and selling. Loan sharks and dove merchants eliminated. But I've always missed a key part of this story: 

Now there was room for the blind and crippled to get in. They came to Jesus and he healed them (v. 15). 

I love a good rant about consumerism. But, it turns out, the evils behind commerce became evils not because of inherent evilness but because of the exclusion of goodness. Until the merchants were driven from the Temple, the blind and lame couldn't get in.

Other than the token bake sale, we don't find many mercantiles in the church. However, I think a deeper truth still applies: What fringe could we trim to make room for the blind and lame around us? How are we set up to serve ourselves rather than those who need the healing touch of Jesus?

Who are left sitting outside the gate because we've got what we want set up inside?

Maybe we don't need to cleanse the building of moneylenders; but a fair question to ask is what is in the way of being true to our mission and message? 

lighter side

It's been a rough couple of days. Lots of weight on my shoulders and stress in my brains (sort of an antithetical Dr Seuss, eh?). But a few things have put a bit of wind into the sails. 

1. Tom's soap, deodorant scent. It's so refreshing. 

2. H Boy's facial expressions. He's got this new one where he talks out of the side of his mouth, especially if he's thinking or disagreeing. He'll add in a little head bob, too. Says things very matter-of-fact-ly.

3. When the kids are laughing and talking together. Today Miss M entertained baby C after naps while I wrapped up a work call. She loves sneaking into H Boy's room in the morning.

4. A clean sink. I hate doing dishes, but sparks of contentment shoot through my insides when I walk into a dimly lit kitchen with no dishes awaiting. 

5. A supportive husband who says "Go get 'em." And believes it. 

coffee cake forgiveness

New neighbors just moved in behind us this weekend, and during a slow drive-by, I spied small children's toys. So I hurriedly 4 days later went home to make a dish to drop off. This afternoon I repeatedly grazed through my cookbooks to find a recipe. A casserole? Well, they'd been there for 3 days which is out of my unofficial timeframe for main courses. Cookies? But then you end up eating way more than needed. Then I dug out the trusty JSUMC cookbook. 

Solution: coffeecake. 

As I whipped up the batter, I reflected on the woman who offered the recipe. She was the mother of 3 very special students. The family was probably the first to drop by my office in my inaugural week. She donated countless dishes (probably at least one coffee cake) and supplies and hours to the church and the youth. I couldn't have used a recipe from a more "neighborly" woman. 

Until she left. 

I tend to take on the states of being for the people for whom I care deeply. You know, the "laugh with those who laugh and mourn with those who mourn." So I hurt when they were hurting. 

But tonight I allowed myself to remember her for the wonderful, thoughtful ways she cared. The prayers she uttered and the songs she sang. The cards she made by hand. Her fierce loyalty. 

I realized that a single decision she made a few years ago altered her relationships with countless people. But it didn't delete, or even change, the numerous chapters of her life that preceded it. 

While still giving her family the space to wrestle and reconcile their situation, I realized it's not my situation. Therefore, I'm given the freedom to define her by one decision or by a lifetime of meaningful gestures. Opting to leave will remain one of her cornerstone life events; it's not the same as "coffee or tea" or which church to join. But to summarize a person's life based upon the parts and not the whole just doesn't fit. It somehow eliminates room for change, or hope and the space to rectify wrongs. 

It ends the story too soon. 

So while I blended the butter with the flour, I balanced a knowledge that things would never return to "as they were" with an appreciation of what they were. And for the first time in a long while, I allowed a sense of gratitude for her place in my life. And perhaps wished her the grace of good things in the future. After all, she'd set an example for me in raising children and in serving others. And she made a mean coffeecake. 

the ways in which I'm a typical American

Exhibit A: After retrieving the children at lunch, I sent a text to my husband, lamenting: "I could probably trade my right arm for a Wendy's chicken sandwich right now." He thought it was a reflection of how bad the kids were acting, when in fact it simply indicated how much I did not want to have to assemble my own lunch, specifically because my taste buds could go for that crunchy texture of the sandwich, nestled between the soft goodness of A BUN. And please don't forget to smother it in mayo. 

Exhibit B: I went to Target for invitations. I spent $100 and was convinced that the trail mix I purchased tasted 500x better than what I purchase at Meijer because Archer Farms uses some sort of intoxicating visual drug. (I believe the professionals call this "packaging.") 

Try as I might, I'm a product of my environment. I live in a fast food world and my expectations of immediate gratification aren't much different than my neighbor, Susie's. So much of who I am comes from the places and experiences of my culture and surroundings. For the best and worst, culture forms us. It's like a textured table; when the play-doh of our lives is shaped and rolled and created into a ball, the imprint from that texture will be visible. We'll take different forms and functions, but our culture and surroundings, our experiences and expectations, leave impressions. 

So my recent gastronomical experiment has opened my eyes to our food culture. I'm suddenly on the outside looking in, completely aware to the ways in which I formerly lived. I see habits I never knew I have. Namely, being prone to mindlessly consume for gratification. 

When limited by what you eat and how it's prepared, you become increasingly aware of food sources. Food no longer fits simply into categories of "tastes good and I want it", "healthy, so I should eat it" or "I hate brussel sprouts" but instead good and bad have a new ring. Most of the time nothing in and of itself is "bad" but rather someone tried too hard to improve a good thing. (Like McDonald's oatmeal. Something that is, by definition, an ingredient, contains 8 gazillion ingredients. Just stop messing with it, people!)

I've long been fascinated by Jewish food laws and customs and secretly idolized living a kosher life. It's probably my rule-driven nature, but I loved this idea from afar since reading Lauren Winner. Most of all, and especially now, I love that God asked his people from early on to actually think about food. Not just what it is, or label it "good" or "bad" (He created it and said it was good, so that part's been covered). But instead of thoughtlessly consuming, perhaps food is something that should be mindfully enjoyed and appreciated. You can't observe kosher without asking questions such as "what is this?" and "where did it come from?" And these are good questions to be faced with: it comes from God. It exists to nourish you, not serve as a crutch for comfort or satisfaction. 

It's to be enjoyed, but not abused. Appreciated. Savored. 

But it's become clear in the past 3 months that these were not my habits and attitude surrounding food. We live in such a place and age of abundance that we've been robbed the luxury of reflection. 

I've got probably 3 more months of a grain-free life ahead (aiming for 1 year to wean Baby C). Will we continue on in our current state? Probably not. (The GAPS diet was created as a temporary means to healing, not a long-term solution for living. Amen and amen). You can believe I'll somehow get my hands on a Padrone's breadstick slathered in ranch. Will we revert to life as before? Probably not. This little hiatus from living as a food zombie has awakened me to what and how we consume. What is needed, what is warranted and what is truly wanted. How I react and how I live with intentionality. 

Paul spoke some true wisdom in 1 Corinthians: Everything is permissible, but not everything is beneficial. I've lived 30 years believing that if it was served on a plate, then it was good for a meal. I don't believe that's the case anymore. Eating has become different than consuming. "What I feel like" no longer runs unopposed in the race for what to serve, though it retains its voice and vote. 

Moving forward, I anticipate some challenges in finding balance (I know - who? Me?). I want to live offering the best to my home and family and self and God. And I want to dredge a pita chip through Laura's artichoke dip - I believe that my experience of this world will be lessened if I don't. 

Most of all, I don't want to return to my thoughtless habits about food. Not just "what is it?" but also why I want it, what it's good for and where it came from. Who touched it. How it was prepared. And most of all, with whom I'll enjoy it. 

you know when you're working too much

A clear indicator that a work-home balance needs made: you get a random Tuesday at home with the kiddos and you have a list the length of your arm of how you'd like to spend it:

1. Stay in jammies as long as possible.

2. Go shopping for their daddy's birthday present

3. (Happen upon some jeans for mommy)

4. Hit up Goodwill

5. Stop by samozrejme to secretly get Miss M's birthday present without her seeing it.  

6. Hit up Chik-fil-a for a morning play session. Maybe see if AB and her growing bunch want to join.

7. Get the makings to sew something

8. Paint the master bathroom. It's been 3 months now. Seriously. 

9. Research something to write that isn't just my blog

10. Plan a few summer mini-trips. 

11. Bake grain- / gluten-free muffins

12. Put a roast in the crock pot because I hate roast but I'm going to book club tonight!

13. Clean and generally get things around for a birthday party this weekend

14. Laundry. Well, I think I'd rather ignore laundry. This would go on my "I have a free day so I should get it done" list. 

15. Watch my baby take off on her crawling skills. 

  

everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die

Of all theological topics, heaven ranks toward the bottom for me. I know, it should be a happy discussion point, what with all the robes and harps and the "milk and honey bar" (a phrase coined by KLR). We get to see grandma and fido and escape things like mosquitos and misery. What's to dislike?

But my experience of heaven-talk always boils down to what I believe to be a fruitless discussion: who's in and who's out. And while I believe it to be true that folk do exist who neither want to nor will join us at the pearly gates, a large majority of us (according to Time, 85% of Americans) believe there is such a place and that they're likely heading in that direction. I'm not going to put judgment to that statistic, just remark that it's interesting. 

By random stroke of luck (fate, God's hand & will, whatever your camp) I picked up N.T. Wright's How God Became King this weekend, and what a fitting timeline. My experience with Wright has been limited - articles in seminary, for sure, because my favorite NT professor (short for New Testament, not an actual course sequence on the author) studied under him at Durham. I also touched on his heaven book out of curiosity but stopped after 2 chapters. The man's depth sometimes requires a shovel in order to follow along, at least in purely eschatological matters. 

But my current read draws attention toward the heaven question inadvertently. And here's a few quotes I've loved: 

The great second- and third-century Christian teachers insisted, against such new teaching, that God's rescue of the created order itself, rather than the rescue of saved souls from the created order, was central. That was part of the essential Jewish faith, rooted in the jewish scriptures, that the early Christians firmly maintained (p. 17).

The ancient Jews were creational monotheists. For them, God's great future purpose was not to rescue people out of the world, but to rescue the world itself, people included, from its present state of corruption and decay (p. 44). 

Wright's backstory to this theology is meaty and he depends on his other works in order to get to the depths. But what he's basically saying is that the gospels clearly communicate that Jesus served as the driving force, allowing heaven and earth to collide and intermix and even coexist. My mind has made it one of those Venn diagrams where heaven is circle A and earth is circle B and the spot where the 2 overlap is the Kingdom of God. Jesus brought this together through his life and fused it open through his death and resurrection. 

The life of the Christian, then, is to live there. As David Crowder puts it: (bonus points if you can catch the LARGE number of references in this post) give us roots and give us wings. 

Does this dispel the afterlife? In no way. Wright contends there is a bodily resurrection, and in my mind that happens when those 2 circles overlap. When the Kingdom Jesus ushered in rules in every corner of the world. When grace and mercy trump selfishness and pride. Everywhere. That's when Jesus comes back in a celebratory parade of saints who have already left us. (That parade part isn't biblical. I just like to tell an imaginative story. But why not a parade? But it's at least a feast - that's Biblical. Like a really great wedding where you see all your college roommates.) 

For me, this brings a new depth and excitement about Easter. As another (non-Crowder) song rephrases the scripture: sin has lost its power / death has lost its sting / from the grave you've risen / victoriously! The keys have been handed over. Where we were once powerless and slaves (to bring in some Pauline language) to another nature, we've been given a new stature, to live rightly. To live justly, love mercy and walk humbly with God. We may be on earth, but heaven has come to join, and even rule. Forever. And ever. In our hearts and in our homes. 

Jesus beat death. He beat sin - in fact, taking it all down to the grave with him. And while the serpent might rear its ugly head, the resurrection means it won't win. 

Easter isn't just a hope for "someday." Resurrection isn't just for when we die. Resurrection, by definition, is about living. Why wait until it's nearly over to start? 

Hey, big spender (resolved)

Because we're within days of finding relief from our Lenten struggles, and because those days have me away from home, I'll share the thoughts that arose in my fasting from spending. 

I have none. 

It wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. I "cheated" a handful of times, probably no more than any other Lenten season. Most notably, buying Easter hats on Thursday and a few margaritas last night. But I think Jesus, if living today, would still be impressed with my wherewithal, given that I went into a Target for 3 hats and came out of Target with only 3 hats. Honestly, I'm not sure that's been done in human history. Look at me, walking through the valley of temptation and only succumbing to the pre-selected indulgences. 

And I'm so humble, on top of it. 

No, I thought the spending freeze would have a bigger edge of difficulty, and indeed it probably would have if I had a social life. However, I don't see people regularly. I think this little experiment needs to be replicated in a setting of a larger circle of local friends. And a bigger pool of babysitters. (Kudos to Abbie K, who kept the kids for us on a non-Sunday when we used a gift card to eat out and celebrate our anniversary. She was kind enough to barter her services for a later dinner, keeping me much in spirit with the intent of this whole deal. She's sweet like that. She also offered to buy my margaritas last night in an effort for me to finish strong. We had great theological conversation about the act vs. the heart. Again, she's great like that). 

But even if it wasn't difficult, here's the learning or awareness that took place:

1. My top missed spend was buying food already cooked at my convenience. Eating out. Hands down. My current dietary state limits the consumption already, so when Sunday came around (and Chipotle showed up), it was a day of celebratin'. 

2. There's a monetary aspect to having a social life, at least in the middle class. For people who have an interest in studying the poor, here is fuel. I know that the poor eat out as often (sometimes more?), but could it perhaps be in differing settings and conditions? There's some sort of link. I just don't know what it is. 

3. I'd really like a julianne slicer. It would be easier to turn my zucchini into "spaghetti". I haven't yet run out and purchased one, but I'm secretly hoping it shows up in my easter basket. Since I've not told either Easter Bunny, I doubt it will. 

4. I need new pants. My sister's generous heart covered my buns for the past week with a pair of her hand-me-downs, but those have just enough stretch to start sagging. There's a joke in here somewhere about Easter being the reason that my pants will stay up once we sing Up from the Grave He Arose (he arose!).

5. We never struggle alone. JJ has not suffered silently through my spending fast. Yet another example of how our decisions never operate in a vacuum. 

Children are awake. Thoughts struggle to form words. It is finished.