New Song

 "Life is never made unbearable by circumstances, but only by lack of meaning and purpose." Viktor Franki

I always struggle some with the music worship part of a service. Sometimes I feel like I've attended a concert. Other times in very traditional settings, I feel like the congregation is walking through the motions. I've learned there is no "perfect" approach to the worship segment but rather just being gifted an opportunity to figure out how I best worship in song and be aware that others may feel differently.

Yesterday, the worship team (that's church talk for "band") played a fairly new song. Immediately after that song, they played a song anyone who has ever listened to the FISH in the morning would know.

I was intrigued by the sharp contrast.

New song. Not many people singing.

Old song. So many people singing that the team stopped playing instruments and the worship of the congregation carry.

I've been thinking on this idea that new is .......uncomfortable. And well old, is our comfort zone.

I have these seasons where I'm searching for grounding. And in those seasons, I always find God is persistent. Every sermon I've listened to. Every book I've read. Has circled around the same theme.

We can't let our CIRCUMSTANCES decide our OBEDIENCE.

It's no secret that we have our foot in the door at several local churches but are not fully "joined" at any.

I've been letting our circumstances, the idea that we have a 10 year old in need of community, guide our church decisions.

But these churches we "visit" are comfortable. I get the rhythms and routines. We see familiar faces. They are "old" songs for me.

They have little boxes you can check to honor your obedience. You can wave to folks in the parking lot. You can rock the babies. You can clean the bathrooms. All old songs.

There's no box to check for the things I feel stirring in my heart.

The boxes I feel convicted about, they are new.

And they are going to be uncomfortable, hard conversations.

I also know though that we can't continue to support religious organizations that decide who is welcome at JESUS's table.

I can't sit by as people determine who is worthy of being loved by and serving Jesus.

Peanut learned a song at VBS one year that sang "We won't be quiet."

I feel like we're a community that has become quiet about the big things.

The folks like me who are "froot loops in a cheerio community" - we are letting the hate speak out. We are not speaking out in LOVE.

We are only willing to sing the old songs.

Mama Warriors, it's scary to sing out the new songs loudly. What if the tune is wrong? What if we stumble over the words?

But, what if singing out the new song changes not just you but someone else? What if all you need to do is make it to the first chorus and you won't be alone?

I think if we're paying attention we are all being called to new songs. We grow as people and in our faith through change.

I don't know what my next new song is but I do know that until I sing it, I'm not choosing obedience over circumstances.

And thus there is someone else singing this new song that is all alone. Waiting for me to join in. Somewhere.

Glitter Day

 "We aren't responsible for the healing (or whatever seemingly impossible thing we are asking for); we are only responsible for the ASKING."

It's officially "Glitter day" (aka Happy Father's Day).

It's not lost on me that this year it falls on the LONGEST day of the year. I'm just saying. That never happens on glue day.

By 8 AM this morning, Peanut and I had made a pound cake (for the base of strawberry shortcakes later), dough for home made pizzas for lunch, and home made blueberry pancakes and bacon for a big breakfast. The glitter was still in bed. Did I mention we went to two separate farms this week and hand picked those blueberries and strawberries?

We go BIG on glitter day. The cards are made, the gifts are wrapped.

I saw one of those memes this week that challenged you to think of the phrase your dad is most known for.

I hope my kids think of his dad jokes (it's "nacho cheese"). Or his air guitar singing. Or maybe that he insists they be people of their word. Mostly I hope they think of how he laughed, how he played, how he loved them.

The phrase I remember my dad saying the most, and honestly the only one I can think of is "I'm not paying to air condition the whole GD neighborhood."

My dad worked nights and slept days. So the phrase I remember my mother saying the most was "Shh..don't wake your father."

Essentially until my mother packed us up and left in the middle of the night, I remember that we spent a lot of time tip toeing around my father. We didn't tell him much. We didn't wake him.

A year or so after the divorce my dad took us to the beach. He'd never traveled with us,and honestly had not even visited us that much. But off we went. We came back miserable with sun poisoning. Turned out he didn't know a whole lot about having kids. Like that you have to put sunscreen on them.

When the Princess was born I felt tugged to try to include him in our life. A life he had never chosen to be a part of.

As an adult, I decided I could rise. I could be the forgiver.

It was rocky and ultimately I could not maintain the conditional relationship he required. I wouldn't have people close to my children that taught them anything other than full blown unconditional love.

I received news that my dad had been given a terminal diagnosis. Not long to live. I immediately sat and wrote him a long letter. I searched for all the positive things I could say about my childhood with him. I told him only the good. And I said we'd love to see him.

No word from him.

A few months later, my sister called to tell me he was dying. And that if I wanted to say goodbye, I had to get in the car then.

I grabbed my keys, unshowered and all, and I went. I cried the whole way there. For what was lost. For what would never be.

He was unable to speak by the time I arrived, but I said goodbye.

It wasn't lost on me that even in the end, our relationship was very one sided.

My mother remarried in my teen years and he very much is an unconditional loving father. I married fantastically. Sweet Daddy is everything to our kids that I would wish for. And he came with my father in law who continues to amaze me with his devotion to loving us well.

I still wake up on Father's Day thinking I don't remember a moment where my father enjoyed fathering me.

He did at times in a very 1980's responsible dad way for sure.

But not with an overflowing joy.

It took me a LONG time to realize I wasn't responsible for healing that relationship.

I was only responsible for the forgiving and the asking.

Relationships are tough on a good day.

And just because someone is related to you, it doesn't make it an automatic comfy fit. In my experience, I'd argue it makes it harder. You didn't choose these people.

Mama Warriors, I share all that this morning to say, maybe Father's Day is hard for you.

Maybe you wake up missing an earthly father who did thoroughly enjoy you. You are sad to be without him.

Maybe you wake up with an earthly farther in which the relationship is strained.

Maybe you wake up without the father you wanted for your own children.

Whatever your situation is this morning, I promise you that you wake up with a heavenly father who does enjoy you. Who does value you. Who does want to unconditionally love you.

So do your kids.

You are worthy of being enjoyed, valued and unconditionally loved.

You are not responsible for the healing.

You are only responsible for the asking.

Father's Day

 "The most important thing in our belief system is not our behavior. It's the roots."

I spent this past week sorting pictures.

Taking apart old albums/scrapbooks and downsizing until all of the pictures of my life fit into one 240 picture album.

For those of us who are....older.....the initial sort is easy. Pictures are blurry. We aren't looking at the camera. There are countless pictures of places with no people in them. Those all go into the trash.

My second sort involved making sure I found pictures of me with each of the grandparents, parents, cousins.

There are two pictures of me with my dad. Two.

He's not smiling in either.

I'm not surprised.

I don't remember him ever being happy to see me.

Once my mother quit forcing him to spend time with me, he stopped.

My dad passed away a few years ago and even knowing he was dying, even receiving a letter from me, didn't encourage him to mend a broken bridge. His conditional approach to relationships he took to the grave. His way or no way.

We celebrated Father's Day a day early yesterday so that SD could spend today celebrating his own dad.

I asked "Where do you want to go to lunch?"

"Where ever you guys do" was his response. Always.

SD authentically just wants to spend time with our kids. Where ever they are. Doing what ever they love. Eating what ever they want to eat.

He's sat through countless ball games, play productions, dance recitals, movies. He's endured hours of discussions on MLB games, dystopian novels and currently the Wings of Fire series.

He works 12 hour days and still manages to show up for family dinner most nights.

I realized this week as I walked down memory lane of my own life that my kids may never appreciate the wealth of their life because they know no other.

SD and I have worked so hard to gift them something neither of us had.

It's their norm.

SD isn't afraid to do the hard. Create the boundaries. Enforce them.

But he also embraces the joy. Dances in the kitchen (even though the kids groan). Sings loudly. Laughs abundantly.

Mama Warriors, perhaps you wake up on Father's Day too with a mix of emotions.

About your own father. About your kid's father.

There's space today to remember that while we are broken people who make mistakes we are loved by a heavenly Father who isn't conditional.

It's okay to take a moment today and grieve what wasn't or isn't.

And then remember that you can gift your kids a heavenly father that will far surpass the earthly one.

Room for Hope

 "The beauty of joy isn't found in a garden. It's found in the crevices, cracks and the chaos."

Two weeks ago I ended up with an unexpected solo week.

Originally while Peanut was away at camp all day, I was slotted to work a seasonal job. 30 - 50 hours a week was the goal.

Monday morning I dropped her at camp, rushed home to start work and found that the project had closed. A full 9 days early.

The first week I kept feeling like I "should" be getting all this done while she was away long days.

But honestly, I mostly walked around my neighborhood, ugly cried in my recliner and binged Fire Fly Lane.

For 5 days I felt guilty about all the time I was "wasting" but couldn't seem to pull it together.

A sweet friend reminded me that it isn't wasted time to be still. To process. To feel all the messy feelings of the last few months.

I don't remember the last time I was alone for any chunk of time but I know it was longer than 10 years ago.

It's a hard season here for a Mama heart and I'm grieving a lot.

While I certainly will miss the income of that week, I think He gifted me with a week with no interruptions, no tasks to take care of so I could sit in the mess.

And slowly, as the week wound down, I began to be able to take very small steps forward. Set some boundaries. Determine the next right step. Journal about what is and what I wished it would be. And set that free.

I cried a little less each day.

As I entered week two of Peanut camp, the project still over, I was able to set some project goals.

Control what I can.

One of the projects on my list was to sort through boxes of unorganized pictures. I had previously separated them by person but the idea of sorting them, purging them, and placing into an album had always felt overwhelming.

This past week I was ready. I dumped them out, one person at a time, and walked down memory lane.

I gifted myself time to appreciate what was, mourn what is not, and hope for what might be.

Mama Warriors, I often tell my big kids that I did the best I could, with the skills and support I had, with the information and wisdom I possessed in each stage of their life.

Not perfect. Definitely mistakes made.

But I parented from a place of deep love.

I have better skills now. I know different strategies. But I'm continuing to make mistakes, continuing to be shaped and molded, continuing to grow.

I have found through much of parenting that I'm accepting of their mistakes and growth much more than they are of mine.

Make space to sit in your mess and reflect.

And then make a plan to move forward.

One small step at a time.

Making the best choices, with your given amount of information and support, skills and strategies, doing the best you can from a place of love.

Make room for hope that someday it may be different.

Light

 "Jesus gives us peace but we are responsible for maintaining it."

Peanut and I are embarking on a "1980's Summer."

At the beginning of 1985, I turned 10. The big double digits. Just like Peanut.

We started this summer reading "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" (followed by a trip to see the movie) and the American Girl book on puberty.

10 seems to be the year of big questions.

I'm fighting to be the FIRST source of information. I want to give good information before someone else gives her wrong information. But more importantly, I need to be the person that can talk about ALL the messy uncomfortable things.

Being the third kid, having two "adult" (I use that term very loosely) siblings.........Peanut is exposed to a lot more hard conversations than I would like.

She carries worries of the struggles we have with her big kids.

She's acutely aware of how the dynamics of our home are shifting.

About a month ago, Peanut began to have trouble going to sleep. I finally unearthed that she (much like her mother) lays awake at night worrying about all the things.

Spinning the worst case scenarios.

Peanut and I have had some tough conversations lately.

They all have had the same theme.

Thoughts left in the darkness are just that. Dark. They feel alone. They are scary. They are overwhelming.

In order to move forward, we have to be willing to bring our problems into the light. In the light, we find support. In the light things seem not as scary. In the light, there is comfort.

In the light, together we can work on a plan. We can't always fix things. That's a hard lesson when you're 10. Or 48.

But we can learn that sitting in the light together is far better than sitting in the dark alone.

I recently bought Peanut a lamp for her bedside table as a visual reminder that there is always the option to shed light on darkness.

Mama Warriors, some topics can be hard or uncomfortable to talk about. I've answered WAY more questions about body parts and body changes than I knew existed.

We have to be the people who can have these conversations. Because the minute some topics become ones they don't talk about with us........it's a slippery slope. The list grows.

What's on that list will remain in the dark.

Where there's darkness, there's no light.

Our kids need light to be healthy. To be happy. To be whole.