Swim After Lunch

 "Asking a question is an act of faith." Lore Ferguson Wilbert

At church on Sunday, 3 rows ahead of me (I was on time, no front row seat for me), was an older woman.

Through every song, she gently swayed back and forth.

No singing. No hand raising. Consistent swaying.

Somewhere inside the cardigan Grandma, I very much think there is a Dancing Queen.

She was obviously moved by the worship music.

I pondered, "Why didn't she let herself fully give into it?"

My guess is that church has always been done in a Sunday dress, complete with cardigan sweater, and there's an "appropriate" way to worship.

I'm reading the book below. If you are a Jeopardy fan, Ken Jennings has written several. This one investigates all the sayings you've always heard.

Like, "You can't swim for 30 minutes after you eat." He researches the scientific side and then tells you if the adage is true or false. (This one is false by the way)

He shares that sometimes things get passed down because that's how it's always been done. There isn't really any "good" reason why it has to be that way.

I attest that much of our lives are the same way. We are creatures of comfort. Going around never swimming after lunch because that's how it's always been.

Never questioning, challenging.

I wondered on Sunday what it would do for cardigan grandma if she gave into what she obviously felt. If she sang out loud. If she danced merrily. What a novelty if she you know .........rejoiced in the Lord while at church?

It would free her for sure.

But maybe it would also free everyone 3 rows back too.

Maybe the rest of the folks would see it's okay to feel the feels at church.

I believe that the American church often hurts more than it heals.

Because the body of Christ has trouble deciding when to worship, how to worship, how traditional or how trendy to be, all the things.

We lose sight of the forest for the trees.

At the end of service this week, the preacher asked for volunteers to pray with those in need.

I will confess to peeking and noticing that their were way more volunteers than those in need.

In no way do I believe everyone remaining at their seats did not need prayer.

I think it's like swimming after lunch. We've been cultured to think that needing someone to pray over you is like a last resort.

Why isn't our first?

Why weren't there lines in front of each of those volunteers? Saying- pray with me. I need some Jesus.

Mama Warriors, it's okay to sing in church. To raise your hand. To give into the feels.

I've never sat through a baptism that I didn't ugly cry. And I RARELY know the person being baptized.

It should be normal to need to be prayed for in church. Shouldn't that be on the top 3 list of attendance reasons? To pray, pray with and be prayed for?

Let's shift our view of what's "okay."

Let's swim after lunch.

Jurassic Park

 "Pivot, don't panic."

This week Xman and I sat down with his high school counselor for his senior conference.

I'll be honest. My main original goal of the conference was just to hear her say "He WILL graduate in May. It's happening."

After being handed the piece of paper with the list of the credits needed, and knowing he's enrolled in classes to get those credits, I sat back in my chair. Deep exhale.

She began to go through a questionnaire asking Xman to reflect about where he's been, think about where he's at, and ponder where he might be in the future.

While I already felt confident about his responses to most questions, it was still an insightful moment for me. Might have been a little teary to hear his specifics. So well spoken. So well thought out. So respectful of everyone in the room.

I listened as he shared his strengths, his weaknesses, his goals and his dreams.

"So Mom, now I'm going to ask you - what do you see as his strengths?"

Wait - MOM?

It didn't take me long to answer. You see Xman's biggest strengths are the 3 things that have made parenting him a roller coaster rather than a carousel. Jurassic Park rather than Disney World. A hard fought game rather than an easy win.

One. He's passionate. NOTHING gets in his way. If he sets a goal, consider it reached. You can either help him get there or get out of his way because he isn't easily detoured.

Two. He's a leader. He's the kid that gets his first job at 15 and within two weeks is the farm manager. His work ethic is unsurpassed. He's going places and eager to take you with him.

Three. He'll leave the 99 to chase the 1 in a heartbeat. He picks up the kid for church in the neighborhood I'd rather he never be in. Not once, but as many times as it takes. He stops and helps whoever needs it. That little "What would Jesus do" bracelet he sports now and then? He takes it seriously.

Shepherding a kid whose passionate, a leader and chasing the 1 is no easy task.

As I said these things aloud in his conference, I wondered do I say these things enough to him?

Do I pour into him with encouragement and praise ENOUGH?

Do I speak truth to him that is uplifting?

Mama Warriors, maybe you, like me, see little of your emerging adults.

So when we see them, we have to tell them all the things.

Go to the dentist. Turn in the assignment. Check the oil in the car. Clean up the mess in the bathroom. Put the dog inside when you wake up. Where are you? When are you coming home?

ALL. THE. THINGS.

Trust me. Someone is, or will be, saying the encouraging things to your kid.

And then voice will be louder than your nagging one.

If we want to earn the space to speak truth in our kids hearts and lives, we have to make sure the overwhelming message they hear from us is that they are loved.

Unconditionally, fiercely, and crazy loved.

And why.

Alright, Alright, Alright

 "The antidote to overthinking isn't more thinking - the antidote is ACTION."

I feel like my daily life is written by the author of the "If you Give a Mouse a Cookie" series.

Last week I went deep diving into this closet looking for something I was sure we owned.

Our home has one linen closet to house ALL the things for 5 people's bedroom and bathroom. One linen closet for 2 bathrooms. The math is bad.

I pulled everything out of this closet.

By the end, I had decided it wasn't all going back in. I put a few things in the "dog box" for bathing/crating the dog. I put a few more things in other locations. I put the most things in the back of my car to donate.

As I did this chore, I played the same soundtrack I've been playing for 20 years.

"I'm not organized."

"I'm not good at housekeeping."

"A better wife/mother would be able to keep up with ALL the things and find them."

I finished clearing out the closet. Grabbed baskets from a few places and declared that things now have a home.

And as a bonus, found the item I was looking for.

As I keep returning to this closet over the last week, I realized that the story I tell myself isn't true.

This closet is proof.

I am organized.

I can do housekeeping.

I am a "good enough" wife and mother.

The soundtrack I play in my mind colors my days, my decisions and my experiences.

I'm the only one who can play a different soundtrack.

My latest read suggests if I want to stop overthinking things I have to change my own soundtrack.

Select a better playlist.

I got out a spiral notebook this week and I'm writing it down.

I am organized.

I am able to house keep. (is that thing?)

I am a good enough wife/mother.

I'm also writing down soundtracks I hear that inspire me (at this author's suggestion) . Soundtracks that make me smile.

Maybe my new soundtrack might be "Alright, Alright, Alright."

Mama Warriors, if we want to capture our thoughts I challenge you to chose your soundtrack.

Flip the script.

Speak to yourself as if you were your own best friend.

Alright, alright, alright.

Front Row

 "There is much beauty in the trying, and in the failing, and in the trying again. Peter renounced Jesus three times before the cock crowed. And yet he was the rock upon whom Christ built his church."

Sunday we were late to church.

As we entered the back of the sanctuary, everyone was standing and singing.

In case you are of the type who is never late to church (who are you people???), if you arrive when people are standing, it is MUCH harder to find the empty seats. For some reason standing folks seem to take up more room than sitting folks.

Last week the preacher made a joke that there must be something wrong with the front row because no one sits on it.

I knew where there were empty seats.

The thing is I don't like to sit on the front row. I'm guessing I'm not the only one since it's always empty.

I don't like loud noises and those seats are nearly touching the speakers.

I find the angle to the screen harder to read because you are almost too close.

I don't like everyone else being behind me when I'm standing. Is my skirt all the way down? Did I brush the back of my hair? Are they watching me sing?

Nonetheless, people who are late to church can't be choosy and so to the front row we went.

I learned on Sunday the front row is not nearly as distracting as any row behind it.

Guess why not?

There is nothing else to look at but what you are supposed to be tuned in to.

There's no people watching. You really can't check your phone with the entire congregation behind you able to see your actions.

The front row is where I pay attention best it seems.

I'm going to confess - I've spent most of my life sitting on the back row EVEN IF I know sitting on the front row is what is best for me.

Choosing the comfortable rather than the called seat.

From my new front row seat, I had church experience much different than the four weeks I spent on the back row of this church.

I was forced to walk past others when I entered and exited. Given the opportunity to be welcomed, to say hello.

Church is different on the front row.

Mama Warriors, as we welcome this new school year, many of us will find ourselves in new situations.

New sports teams. New school classes. New groups.

Let's step out of our comfort zone and go where the need calls us.

Let's be people willing to sit in the front row.

Vomit

 "If we do not transform our pain, we will transmit it."

Peanut has never been sick and not thrown up.

She's also never had a stomach virus.

Every time she's sick, it presents as a stomach virus. A solid 12 hours of vomiting. Every single time.

The vomit is a sign that a fever is coming. Always.

After the fever, then the actual symptoms show up.

As Peanut does not navigate throwing up well, I've asked the doctor about this a few times. She always has the same answer.

"Her body knows there is a germ that doesn't belong. It does all the things to expel it. She throws up, clearing her system of everything. Then she runs a fever to fight it off. Her body is doing exactly what it's designed to do. Take care of itself."

Rational rested me agrees.

2 AM me catching vomit often questions the process.

This week as she violently threw up well into the night, I prayed over her "Please heal her body." Over and over.

It seemed like as soon as I prayed, she would immediately start throwing up again.

I'm going to confess I started to have a little Come to Jesus with the man Himself.

Really?

I started to question praying for healing. Prayers aren't vending machine quarters.

As Peanut cried "Mama make it stop" and I most certainly couldn't make it stop, I wrestled trying to figure out what we pray.

It feels like my prayers always come down to "Jesus please help me survive THIS."

The thing is sometimes the answer to "please heal her" is vomit.

It's not always the stopping of the bad thing - sometimes it's His presence IN the bad thing.

Rational me remembered that she needs to throw up to get well.

Throwing up is the route to healing for her. Always.

Mama Warriors, maybe you, like me, like to try to pray our way out of the bad thing.

Maybe we lose sight of His presence IN the bad thing.

Maybe the bad thing is really the GOOD thing.

Skirt Liner

 "Somewhere along the way Christianity became less "Love your neighbor" and more "Make sure you believe the right things." A good starting point is thinking about faith more like a verb and less like a noun."

As Peanut and I are visiting churches, I've found that my supply of "Sunday clothes" is extremely limited. A few weeks ago I put this skirt on.

Within minutes of zipping it, I determined there was no way I was worshipping Jesus in that thing. I could barely breathe, much less move.

The frustrating thing is that the waist of the skirt fits fine.

Under the skirt there is this liner that has two be two sizes smaller than the exterior skirt.

It's tight, unforgiving and totally not me.

I took the skirt off, and tossed it aside. Over the course of the week though I got to thinking "Could I just cut the liner out of the skirt?"

Is there a reason this restrictive thing exists?

This morning I pulled out my scissors and figured I had nothing to lose. I can't wear the skirt as is so I either make it wearable or make it trashable - either was fine.

I took my scissors and cut the liner on both sides so that it is as free flowing as the exterior of the skirt.

And viola - new church skirt for me.

As I stood barefoot and flowy in church this morning, I got to thinking how we often put ourselves in a tight, restraining liner.

We let the negative voice in our head, and others, tell us we aren't meant for this full flowy life.

I call bullcrap. (if you really know me, I call something else but fb tends to like me to use "clean" words)

You, and I, are made for full flowy skirt living.

We've let the world, and ourselves, tell us we are "too much" when we are exactly the right amount of much.

Mama Warriors, my Jesus never intended for us to feel like "right living" is some set of restrictive, skirt lining rules.

My Jesus doesn't care if you sing too loud in church, or if you are one of those crazy hand raising fools (like me, yes like me).

My Jesus doesn't care if you are asking the BIG questions, wrestling with the Word and causing an uproar now and then. I mean he was a man known for flipping tables himself.

What I think He does care about is you being truly and authentically who He created you to be.

Full flowy skirt and all.

(and yes that picture is a nod to my children who seem to think you can't take a picture without making some weird hand gesture)

Loose Leash Walking

 "The movement in our relationship to God is always from God TO us. Always. We can't through piety or goodness move closer to God. God is always coming near to us. Most especially in the Eucharist and in the stranger."

I have been attempting to walk Mo Trouble every morning for about six weeks now.

It always goes the same way. I stand at the "spot" in our home where I put his harness on for a solid 10 minutes while he has zoomies so excited about the possibility of the walk that he can't sit still for the harness.

We get to the gate and I stand 2-3 minutes waiting for him to sit so I can put his leash onto his harness. Again, Mo Trouble is too excited to get to the walk to get the leash on.

From the moment I open the gate, it's a full on sprint around the neighborhood.

It's not a walk. It's a race. With some sniffing along the way.

Over the last week, I've developed tension between my neck and my shoulder from trying to hold onto his fast paced 40ish pounds full motion self.

I've tripped, stumbled, fallen - all while trying to "walk" the dog.

Ever the researcher, I've done a lot of research on "loose leash walking" and have learned that there are two types of walks with a dog.

The walk that is for the DOG where you let them lead- all the sniffing, all the pulling, all the running. The walk is about letting the DOG explore the world.

Then there is the walk for the PERSON. In order to achieve this walk, there are hours upon hours of training involved. For weeks you may never leave your driveway. If they pull, you stop. You decide the pace. You decide the direction.

I definitely want to train Mo Trouble to do this person walk but for now I've accepted that we are dog walking. He wakes with much excitement for the day. And we both just need to clear our heads before jumping into the "to do" list.

Neither of us want to spend the walk time on the driveway.

As Mo Trouble pulled me through shrubbery and low hanging limbs this morning, I got to thinking about how a walk led by him is often uncomfortable for me.

His will is so strong, so forceful. Even though I'm showing him the "right" way, he's still going where the distraction leads.

By the time we get home, he's full blown spent. Panting. Can't eat because he'll throw up. Mess.

I was thinking this morning that walking Mo is much like my walk with Jesus.

He has gifted me free will. I can pull the leash and run after every distraction. And I often do.

When I lead the way, I'm always exhausted and spent. Stressed.

But if I relax and lean in, I can just follow the lead.

I don't need to chase every distraction. I know where I'm supposed to be.

Mama Warriors, I find that back to school time comes with ALL the distractions.

Many good options and activities to chose from.

Lots of things to sniff.

If we will take a breath and a prayer before committing, I think we will find that He wants us to have margin. White space.

Room to let the leash fall loose and enjoy the walk.