Tom Lake

 “I look at my girls, my brilliant young women. I want them to think I was better than I was, and I want to tell them the truth in case the truth will be useful. Those two desires do not neatly coexist, but this is where we are in the story.”

This week I curled up in my favorite chair, complete with my favorite snack and favorite dog, and dove into the book club book selection - Tom Lake.

I was thinking this week, as I marked my favorite quotes, noted the things that spoke to me, how much of a book (or movie for that matter) is what you bring to the table.

Tom Lake is the story of a mother quarantined at home during COVID with her 3 children (college/young adult age). In response to their curiosity, she begins to tell them the story of what led her to their father.

Throughout the story, you see her wrestle with how much do you tell them? What do you include? What do you leave out?

These young adults are surprised to find out their mother wasn't always the woman they know now.

It's a slow moving book that is really just getting to know the main character.

As I read, I wrestled with Lara.

You see, where Lara is now is never where Lara wanted to be. It wasn't the big dream.

How do you tell your children that while now they are the big dream, they weren't the big dream originally? How one day you wake up and realize the carnival isn't what you wanted but it's really the slow farm life?

Do you tell them the bumps along the rode? The poor choices?

If you don't, then how do they see you as a person who had bumps? Who made poor choices?

Somewhere between the high light real and reality is where I think I've landed.

Dispersing information to the young adults as the topics come up. Sharing tid bits, here and there.

Mama Warriors, I think all relationships live somewhere between the highlight real and reality.

I share enough of the hard in my home, in my heart so that others know I have space for the hard.

My house, heart, home - it's a mess too.

If you need someone to stand in the gap because marriage, parenting, existing is hard - I'm your gal.

There's no prize for the influencer worthy life.

I think we show people Jesus best in the midst of the mess.

We say - hey, I found Him in my mess, so I know He's in yours.

Bake the Cake

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

On Sunday Peanut and I visited a church for the 3rd time for Sunday service.

When we entered the building, Ms. Judy spotted us and exclaimed "Michele - stay right there!"

Impressed that Ms. Judy knows my name, I did just that. I stayed right there.

She came rushing back with this home made cake she had made us. Accompanied with this beautiful card about how we were welcomed, prayed for, and wanted.

I've been thinking about Ms. Judy and her cake this week.

She had no idea that we'd come back a 3rd Sunday, or even that it would be last Sunday.

She came prepared.

She felt led to bake the cake, to write the card. She did her part.

I like to think God did His.

We showed up.

I've been thinking this week what it looks like to follow the call of obedience.

To pray expectantly.

Because Jesus knows I like to learn things the hard way, Peanut has been very sick this week.

Out of nowhere Tuesday evening she started running a 103.5 fever consistently. No meds, no cool wash cloths, no remedies are bringing it down.

For those who know Peanut well, you know this usually means she's also throwing up.

Tuesday night I followed Ms. Judy's lead.

I prayed expectantly that Peanut would not throw up. I prayed it over her all night long.

And she didn't. Not once. Which is unheard of in Peanut illness inventory.

I wonder how often God is waiting for me to do my part. To answer my call. To pray expectantly.

So He can move.

Peanut is still running a high fever today. But because she's not throwing up, I'm able to keep her hydrated. Which you know in the parenting sick kids game is the majority of the ball game.

Each time I look at her I'm reminded that "what's important to me, is important to God."

Mama Warriors, I think sometimes we get caught up in the overwhelmingness of the big and forget the call to the small.

I want Peanut healed but forget to recognize that right now I just need her able to rest.

Ms. Judy doesn't have some big outreach program planned. She isn't creating events to draw the whole community in.

Ms. Judy is baking the cake for the ones God brings through the doors. Once she knew we existed, we were hers to minister to.

The call to the small.

And hey, there just might be Southern small town cake involved.

Grizzard Connections

 "You will never have to be more patient with someone than God is patient with you."

For 15 years, beginning in the late 1970's, Lewis Grizzard published a daily column in the Atlanta Journal. He was as Southern as they come, an avid GA Bulldawg fan, and apparently not super great at relationships (married 4 times). In addition to his column, in his career he published 26 books, performed stand up comedy and ate a lot of fried chicken.

Despite popular opinion in my house, I wasn't old enough to read Grizzard's column for much of the time it appeared in the paper.

Plus I was too busy transitioning from Sweet Valley High books to Flowers in the Attic series to read Grizzard.

The only books my dad ever read were Lewis Grizzard books. He owned a large stack of them purchased used of course.

Sometime in my college years, my dad loaned me this stack of books to read.

I read them all.

Not because they were particularly my style, though in parts the man is pretty funny, but because he trusted me with his books.

As an avid reader, I know what it means to loan a book that feels like a friend to you. While you could easily pick up another copy if something happens to your book, it won't be the copy of The Outsiders that you read in high school, that is traveled through all the years with you. It won't be yours.

Recently my brother, who is settling my dad's estate, and I were talking about the "things" in his home.

I mentioned that the only things I would like to have (if he didn't want them) was this stack of Grizzard books.

Last weekend they showed up in my garage (confession - teary moment when I found them because no one is more thoughtful and intentional than my brother).

I don't have fond memories of any of the furniture or decorations in my dad's house. When I see the table, I think of the fussing about us needing to sit up, be still, eat it all. When I see the couches I think of the awkward visits in my adult life when I tried to make conversation, attempt connection. When I see the fork and spoon on the wall (did you have one of those?), I remember focusing on those rather than my parents current fight.

I don't want to carry those things with me. Even though the "things are not the person."

But this stack of books represents the one time I remember my dad attempting to make a connection with me.

The one time he seemed to SEE something that mattered to me.

I see you like to read - this is what I like to read.

That's a memory I can honor and carry.

A connection.

In our own home, we are currently shifting our storage from a large area into a much smaller area.

It's forced me to touch every single item we've kept over the years.

This stack of books has taught me that what I save to pass on to our kids needs to represent a CONNECTION.

I need to take the time to write the story of the thing.

Because the thing won't ever be the person.

Mama Warriors, it's likely your kids won't remember the majority of things that you bought/gave to them.

They will remember the moments where you stepped into their world.

The connections.

So, as you bundle up today (drip those faucets) I remind you to take the time to play the Pokemon game even if it sounds like a foreign language.

Step into their world and find the connection.

The laundry will wait.

Foundation View

 "If we focus on the view, we forget about our foundation."

Yesterday I took Peanut roller skating. We rented a "skate trainer" (where were those things 10 years ago???) and onto the floor we went. The rule is that you had to stay in the middle circle on the skating rink with your skate trainer. Trying to get there was like trying to cross 285 at 5 on a Friday. Peanut looked up at me with anxiety.

I said - "Let's just look down at your feet. Focus on sliding your left foot, then your right foot. Like a pattern. Let Mommy steer us to the middle."

You worry about your foundation, your feet.

Let Mommy worry about the view, the skaters.

I'm sure Jesus had a little chuckle at me yesterday. You see, we've been chatting about this "one day at a time" living thing for a few weeks.

A wise friend shared with me recently that we often pray expecting SURPLUS, not just ENOUGH.

We pray "give us THIS day our daily bread."

But we don't mean it.

We mean give me manna for a few days. For a week. For a month. For a year. For the long term.

We're running around like the Israelites shoving manna into our yoga pant pockets.

We're too busy worrying about the view to look at our foundation.

The next 6 months here come with some big decisions. We are going to tackle some tough things that I know will bring change. Strife. Uncertainty. We're going to make some decisions that will force us to stand by what we say we believe. And I'm going to be asking some of the people we love to start asking some hard questions about what they believe.

And yes, I'm worrying about the view.

You see, me and my skate trainer made it to the middle of parenting. We're surrounded by people who seem to know what they are doing. They are skating fast. They are skating backwards. They seem to have it all figured out.

And we seem to be spending more time on our rear ends than our feet. We do not know what we are doing. We do know that how we are going to get across, back to the carpet, is going to look different than everyone else. It's going to be messy and hard. People are going to look. And comment.

But you see, He continually reminds me, it's not the view, it's the foundation.

We're going to get to that carpet because He will guide us.

I have NO idea what it will look like. I have NO idea what the path will be. I do know my yoga pants will have no stored manna.

One day at a time living.

Give us THIS day our daily bread.

Mama Warriors, maybe you too struggle with what I like to call my "google calendar crutch." I like it all laid out - what will happen, when it will happen, how it will happen. Advance notice.

Faith asks us to be okay in the middle of the skating rink with only ENOUGH knowledge, skill, security for that moment.

Are we praying for surplus or are we embracing enough?

I slept 3ish hours last night (fairly normal for me) - it's not a surplus, but it's enough. I know it's enough for me today because He sustains me on what He provides.

There are a stack of bills waiting for me to pay. I'm confident provision will come. Not surplus. But enough.

Big decisions for my two teens are coming. I don't know what to do. Today, I love them. With both unconditional love and tough love.

Everytime I look at Peanut I think about the deep cave in her chest. I pray "please help her never struggle to breathe." Today she doesn't struggle. It's enough.

I could list on and on my "enoughs" and my lack of surplus.

The choice is do we live in each day grateful for our "enoughs" or bitter about the lack of surplus?

34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.(Matthew 6:34)

Focus on your foundation, let Him take care of the view.

Under the Bed

 "Patience and kindness are choices we make, not feelings we feel."

Much of my life is like a "Give a Mouse a Cookie" book.

Sunday morning I wanted to change the sheets on our bed. So I took off the dirty ones.

Which led me to notice what awful shape our mattress pad is in. Once our spending freeze is over, that definitely needs to be replaced. But for now, I decided to wash that as well.

Well, if you have the mattress pad off, now might be a good time to flip the mattress over.

If you have the mattress off, perhaps now would be a good time to go ahead and vacuum under the bed. So I moved the box springs.

Confession. Haven't moved the bed since we moved into the house in October of 2000. Which may be obvious by this picture. I picked up the pacifiers, baby socks, and random other items we found between the bed and the wall.

Might as well get the vacuum extension out and clean the baseboards too. Might should wipe down the wall behind the bed.

All before church right?

Before I started moving things, NONE of this was a problem I was aware of.

But once I became aware of how filthy it was under the bed, I was moved to remedy it.

As inconvenient as it was to tackle that Sunday morning and then still make it to church on time, it was necessary that it be done.

I feel like my current walk with church and faith is similar.

For years I walked along, never moving the bed.

But now, I've moved the bed.

Now I know about the mess. So I have to address it.

It's not convenient. The timing isn't great for me.

But once you know better, you do better.

I could say the same about my parenting journey. My big kids often tease that the "namaste embrace your feelings" gentle parenting mom didn't raise them.

Know better. Do better.

25 year old me said "I do" and had no idea what she was getting herself into. I've read books, attended marriage classes, learned and grew.

Know better. Do better.

Mama Warriors as we come off the heal of MLK day, that is the message that I shared with Peanut yesterday.

Once you know about the mess under the bed - it's your responsibility to clean it up.

Once you know about injustice, it's your responsibility to address it.

Once you know better, do better.

Reach

"People say what they THINK but do what they BELIEVE"

Xman had virtual classes this morning so Peanut and I ventured out for a bit to gift him a quiet house. 

As we walked at one of our local favorites, we came upon this tree. 

The tree is growing OVER the rock. The roots had to reach for the ground. 

As Peanut and I pondered the history of the tree, a master gardener came over and offered to share with us the story of the tree. 

The tree was actually grown in a nursery and then moved to the garden. 

The tree was planted in soil on the rock. Over time, the gardener removed soil to force the roots to reach out further. 

Until finally there was no soil above the rock, only beside the rock. 

I've been pondering this "poet's tree" they call it. 

One which had to work a lot harder to put down roots. One that had to reach. 

I feel like that's what the last year has done to us. 

Placed a large boulder between us and the soil. 

We can no longer rely on the ease of what once was. 

Now, if we want soil - we must REACH. 

We must SEEK it. 

If we want to be connected to others, to God, to ourselves - we must find a way for our roots to reach soil. 

The poet's tree has a fence around it because there is evidence of beavers trying to gnaw through the roots. 

Hard earned roots. 

Much like the gardener that built the fence, we may need boundaries to protect our newly planted roots. 

We may need to decide who gets inside our fence. What gets inside our fence. 

Mama Warriors, your roots need soil. 

Good soil. 

Nourishing soil. 

If pandemics, politics, relationships, anything - has your roots without soil, I challenge you to start reaching. 

Soil will not come to you if you don't seek it. 

REACH.

It's Okay

 “Liking and loving ourselves is our greatest responsibility. It gives us the power to walk in the world, honest and alive.”

Two weeks ago, Peanut and I had a hard conversation on the way to church.

The short of it is that she's frustrated with me because we are continually in a state of visiting churches.

She doesn't understand why it takes me so long to figure out a church is not a good fit for us. She's angry because that point is usually after she's made a friend, become comfortable, etc.

I shared her with that I can not authentically worship in a place where EVERYONE is not welcome at Jesus's table. Welcome to the Eucharist. Welcome to be loved. Welcome to serve. Fully welcome.

I can't get a feel for that until I sit in a service. While websites and virtual live services give me some feel for a place, it doesn't give me all the information.

I shared her that many people attend churches where they have very little understanding of what the church stands for. Most can't tell you if their church is a member of a larger body and if so what that larger body stands for, does with it's money, etc. Most choose churches based on what kid's programs they offer (one scroll of a local mom's age will confirm that data) without ever asking - what do they stand for?

I have been that person, but I am no longer that person.

We came to an agreement. We'd openly talk about a church visit, I'd ask the hard questions early, and we wouldn't visit more than 4 times if I wasn't sure. We'd move on.

If I didn't have Peanut, I'd probably worship some place different most weeks. I'd try all the denominations. I'd attend more services at the Monastery. I'd find church amongst the trees rather than in buildings.

But Peanut very much likes and needs church community in this season.

We've sat in two different church buildings since then. Being open and honest with Peanut has given me a whole new view into church services.

Last week we visited a church with a very small congregation.

Toward the beginning of the service, the pastor took prayer requests. And then proceeded to really pray aloud over each one.

"Mommy I like how she really knows her people. She really cares about their prayer requests."

We are learning together to look for clues about leadership. To figure out if the website "who we are" matches what they look like in person.

At the end of the service, the pastor took the time to find us and introduce herself.

As true to my promise to Peanut, I went ahead and asked my hard questions. I explained that we've spent all of Peanut's life visiting churches.

We know better now. So we are doing better.

But that has come at a cost.

She kindly looked at me and said "Give yourself grace for that. It's okay."

I may have shed a few tears.

Grace for me.

A reminder to lay that mom guilt suitcase down at the alter. Set that free.

There's grace for me.

Mama Warriors, I share this vulnerable journey with you today to say that if you too find church hard - it's okay.

There's grace for you.

I don't think the unicorn church exists BUT I do think the unicorn church leader exists. I'm not looking for a congregation full of like minded people. That doesn't exist.

I am looking for a leader who authentically is shepherding his/her people in what I feel is the right direction. A leader with a heart for Jesus.

Maybe you, too, need a church vision shift. Maybe you, too, have been harmed more than helped by church.

There's grace for you.

It's okay.