Authenticity

 “Our Christian tradition is marked by hope. This feels like a time where we need hope.” Pastor Jonathan Barker of Grace Lutheran Church

Early last month our dishwasher ran its last cycle.

It had been giving us signs that it was nearing the end of it's time. It quit draining water fully years ago. But early this month the last working feature quit and the dishes were no longer clean. At all. It was time to let it go.

As there often is, there was a gap between when it broke and this new one arrived.

In that gap, we laboriously handwashed dishes for what is typically six people who eat most of their meals out of our home.

Hours of the day became the wash, rinse, dry cycle. By hand.

In that time, the little one and I sang show tunes. We talked about friendships and dreams. We laughed as the dog was confused about the new routine. Trying to lick things in the dishwasher is one of his favorite past times.

In that time, SD and I caught up on our days. Shared the ins and outs and nuances that might otherwise get skipped over in the nightly routine of dinner, bedtime routines and the dog.

In the lack of convenience, we had to make time to be still.

To wash, to rinse, to dry.

To connect.

The new dishwasher came (God bless my brother) and hours reappeared into my day.

And quickly the time and space we'd made for each other disappeared.

Each time I load the new dishwasher (ever thankful) I have been thinking about what we trade for convenience.

What we give up. Versus what we gain.

I'd wager we've given up authenticity in favor of superficial.

We "follow" each other on social media and feel like we know each other.

Superficially.

Instead of meeting for a warm beverage and hearing about the coming/goings of each other's lives. In context. With body language and tone to help us respond.

Authenticity.

We text each other short little quips or forward funny memes (still a favorite of mine).

Superficial.

Instead of making actual phone calls and listening more than we talk.

Authenticity.

In the name of convenience, we've gained superficialness and lost authenticity.

Mama Warriors, many of us are coming off the holidays entering yet another busy season. Maybe it's another tech week for us drama moms, the beginning of a new sports season for others, and just the overwhelmingness that a school calendar brings.

Make space for the inconvenient.

There are so many stories of Jesus being "interrupted" by people in need. Way more handwashing stories than new fancy dishwasher ones. Times he stopped his plan and made space for the needs of those around him.

And in doing so he connected.

Authenticity.

Doer

"God wants you to take a step of faith that will be messy before he turns it into a miracle."

My Xman and I have been working on his anxiety since he was an infant. I've always known it was inside him. It took my pediatrician 5 years to believe me. It took the UGA psychologist one phone conversation to tell me "maybe - call back in a year." I called back one year later exactly, and she told me "yes." 

I actually cried during his initial interview. For the first time, in 5 years, I told someone my baby, my precious old soul of a 5 year old, was struggling. And she believed me. 

Since that moment, we've been persevering through anxiety therapy. In anxiety therapy, you basically work on what they call "exposures." You "expose" your child to something they struggle with, over and over again. Setting limits, pushing boundaries. Making him do things that are hard for him. 

I will confess. It's unbelievably hard. It's overwhelming. 

But, I'm not raising average kids. I'm not raising kids who just get by. I'm not lowering the bar for my kids. 

Whenever I think about this - I always think of the Cosby episode where Theo asks his Dad, "Dad - wouldn't you love me if I was just normal? average?" And his Dad exclaims "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." 

We don't raise kids who aim for average. 

I'm raising kids for His kingdom. Kids who are fearfully and wonderfully made. Kids who can do hard things. 

Because if I shield them from this hard thing, or that hard thing - I haven't taught them how to be tough. How to have GRIT. 

And let's face it, doing hard things is part of the Christian walk in today's world. They have to be able to say "no," to take hard stands. 

22 Don’t just listen to the word. You fool yourselves if you do that. You must do what it says. James 1:22

I have to raise "DOERS."

Mama Warriors, it's easy to want to make life "easy" for our kids. We have to make them do hard things. We have to be their biggest encourager, but also their parent. We have to say I know this is hard, but you can and you will do this. Because it's our job to raise kids with character. 

It's not our job to raise the kid with the highest grades, or the kid who makes the best teams, or the kid who has the most activities. 

It's our job to raise the kid who is a warrior for His kingdom.

Down

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could;some blunders and absurdities have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." Ralph Waldo Emerson

In the fall of 2004, I was walking out of a Publix shopping store. I had the Xman in a baby carrier, too tiny to sit in the shopping cart. At some point in our shopping adventure, the Princess (2 at the time) had shouted "DOWN" enough times that I had gotten her out of the cart to walk. As we exited the store, I was navigating that push the buggy with one hand, while holding the wiggly 2 year olds hand, fun when all of the sudden the Princess tore her hand from mine and went running into the parking lot. 

As I darted in front of a car chasing after her, I can honestly say that may be the most immediately terrified I've been. I, thankfully, managed to reach her, scoop her up and balance that mother "oh my goodness I'm crying I'm so happy you are alive" and "I could literally shake you so I'm mad at your choice" moment. I'm not even sure we left there with our groceries. 

To this day, I still repeat the rule every single time we are anywhere with cars. "You MUST hold Mommy's hand when there are cars around. All the time." 

It's a simple rule right? - Put your hand in mine, and trust that I will keep you safe from the dangers. 

It was a rule before the Publix adventure. But because I had not (yet) had a negative experience, I wasn't as cautious with the rule. I didn't teach it diligently. I reached for her hand, but she didn't understand the dangers involved. 

As Peanut and I took a walk in our neighborhood yesterday, she reached up to grab my hand as we walked into the street. She knows the rule. She puts her trust in the rule. 

I thought to myself - how much better would my days be if I put my hand into God's before my feet hit the floor? 

If I took those extra minutes to center myself in Him. To say, "Good morning God. Let's do this. Together."

I've been in the parking lot of life without Him. I know the dangers. I've walked days without Him and I know how overwhelming they feel. 

So why do I continue to yell my own "DOWN" and just rush out with out Him? 

Mama Warriors, sometimes the days start before we can think. Sometimes the little ones call for us before we can center ourselves. Sometimes the 40 year old bladder insists we get up now. Sometimes we open our eyes and are already overwhelmed with what we think we *must* get done. 

Let's take just a moment and put our hand in His before we rush into the parking lot. Let's ask Him to hold us close, to keep us safe, to guide our steps. Let's ask Him to walk WITH us. 

And throughout the day, let's let THAT choice guide our other choices. We can respond lovingly to the little one because He walks with us. We can re-direct the teenager with firmness and grace because He walks with us. We can be kind to the cranky adults we encounter because He walks with us. We can serve Him well because He walks with us.

Closing the Gap

 “People are not hurdles on the road to God. They are the road.”

—Martin Buber, Between Man and Man

The week of Christmas I had the responsibility of writing the eulogy and officiating my stepfather's funeral.

My mother chose a scripture verse and for days I spent circling the verse trying to figure out what to write.

The reality is relationships are complicated.

People are human and flawed and messy.

Somehow at the end of someone's life we stand and we try to say the good.

Honestly I struggled with this.

Having now lost the only two fathers I've known...........I'm aware that some of the legacy left is what they did right. And some of the legacy left is what they did wrong.

Both shape us equally. Choices I've intentionally made are the result of both the done right and the done wrong.

As I brainstormed and drafted, my mine kept circling back to this day in 2014 when I took my 3 children to Athens.

It was probably at the height of sickness with gastro. I was down 100 pounds. No one knew what was wrong. I was afraid, lonely and unwell.

I had to haul all 3 kids to Athens with me for yet another doctor's appointment solo. They were 1.5, 10 and 12.

I tried to make what was a challenging day for me fun for them. I took them to the "big" library. I took them to lunch and out for frozen yogurt. I took pictures of them with the bull dawg.

That's what I remember.

One of my kids was talking about that day a few months ago and what they remember is in the library parking lot, as we got back into the car, I realized that one of the children had drank my coke. And I yelled at them. Lost my temper.

I don't remember that. I'm sure it happened. But in my mind, that day was huge for me. I didn't eat two days before taking them so my system would remain stable. I sipped that coke to keep my stomach settled and my blood sugar stable.

As I sat to write the eulogy, I wondered if my kids were writing about that day would they write about what went right? Or what went wrong?

Someone recently defined sin as "knowing the right thing to do, but you didn't do it."

Our life is full of these choices of knowing the right thing to do. We often make the wrong choice.

Therefore there's this constant gap between us and being like Jesus.

And in that gap is the trying.

And in that trying is the peace that surpasses all understanding.

So as I wrote the eulogy, I realized that we all live in the gap.

We can either focus on the size of the gap or the steps to close it.

Mama Warriors, I'd like to think our kids are going to focus on the steps to close it.

But I think we have to give words to that for them. We have to model grace and forgiveness.

We have to give them the gospels as a colander (Adam Hamilton) to sift the world through.

Love God. Love others.

Close the gap.

We as a Pronoun

 "We stretch by reaching toward each other by reaching out from the solo act into the plural. We, the pronoun God loves most. Life is long, the feast is wide, and we are meant for keeping it together. Our hearts are a muscle made in the image of God made for connection, and there are so many ways of being kindred."

—Stephanie Duncan Smith, Even After Everything

The last six weeks have been a hard blur.

Forgive me as we travel back through them because writing about things is how I process them.

In between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Peanut and I had the flu.

Like a full 9 days at home, high fevers, so sick you cry. The flu.

She missed all the things the last week of school. Missed presenting her science project. Missed handing out her gifts at school. Missed all the things we had planned.

Peanut showed symptoms about 24 hours before I did.

Our tradition is anytime she is sick - I bunk in her room with her.

Is her twin bed the most comfortable one in my house?

Absolutely not. In fact I'm pretty sure her mattress was mine as a kid.

Are endless preteen dramas my favorite thing to watch?

Definitely not.

In her journal entry from that time she writes:

"When I am sick I enjoy drawing. So I draw while my mom reads her favorite book. Then we will watch Christmas specials together."

"We" is a pretty powerful pronoun.

I can not fix all the viral stuff we get.

I typically can't even help Peanut feel that much better.

But what I can do is make sure she isn't alone.

I can sit with her in the hard, in the sickness, in the pain, in the uncomfortable.

I can make it a "we" time.

I am most definitely going to get whatever she has once we live in a 10 by 10 room together while she's fevering.

Almost every time.

The choice becomes me or Peanut right?

Do I do what is best for me or what is best for her?

All too often I think we weigh the possible cons for us without weighing the definite pros for someone else.

The last six weeks I've sat in lots of rooms as people, including myself, processed their grief over the death of my stepfather.

Would it have been easier for me not to be in those rooms?

Most certainly.

It would have been easier for me to step away and process on my own without also juggling the needs and grief of others.

But the cons for me should rarely outweigh the pros for someone else.

Mama Warriors, at church each Sunday as part of our prayers I say the words

"Most merciful God, we confess that we sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry."

I've been thinking about this during the Christmas season.

What we have left undone.

I think of the rooms I have not sat in as I should have because they make me uncomfortable.

Maybe in 2025, we leave less things undone.

Maybe in 2025, we love our neighbor as ourself.

Maybe in 2025, we make "we" the prominent pronoun.

Christmas Isn't Over Yet

 "God lives among us in the birth of Jesus Christ and pours hope and joy into our lives."

Peanut and I are excitedly celebrating the 12 days of Christmas for the first time.

For those who haven't done that before, be curious for a minute and I'll share about our experience.

The liturgical church calendar separates Christmas into two parts.

Advent and the 12 days of Christmas.

Advent is the time leading up to Christmas. A time to prepare your heart and mind for Christmas.

The 12 days of Christmas is a time to celebrate. It begins on Christmas Day and go until Jan 5, the Sunday before Epiphany.

Epiphany is the day we celebrate the arrival of the wise men.

I don't know about you but I arrive at Christmas morning every year exhausted.

The litany of events, functions, "musts" that color our calendar wear me out.

We are sick every single year between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The day after Christmas every year I have this mix of mom guilt, regret, sadness.

For all the things I wanted to do that didn't get done.

For the games we didn't play. The puzzles we didn't complete. The craft project we never started. The lights we didn't make it to see. For the things I WANTED to do that I didn't because of the constraints of our commitments.

So this year I woke up on December 26th, the 2nd day of Christmas and I had 11 more days.

A gift.

11 more days to actually enjoy the decorations.

11 more days to do the things. Or not.

11 more days to focus on the joy of celebrating.

Each morning Peanut moves the wise men toward the manger.

Our visual of the journey.

Our reminder that Christmas came but it's not gone.

Each day we choose something off the list of things we wanted to do with the extended break, the holiday festivities, the small of our living room or the expansiveness of our community.

Each day we've been purposeful in celebrating Christmas.

We've visited with family and lingered. Not the rushed 1 hour function but the lingering all day sipping coffee and catching up.

We've played the games.

We've gone for the walks.

We've worked on the Christmas puzzle.

We've watched the Christmas movie while eating the ridiculous amount of Christmas candy.

We've turned on these Christmas lights throughout my house and we've been reminded.

The light has come.

Mama Warriors, I know the world starts celebrating Christmas the day after Thanksgiving and abruptly stops at the end of December 25th.

We are called to be different than the world though.

We aren't celebrating commercial Christmas.

We are celebrating the birth of the Savior.

We are living into the coming of the light.

That doesn't have to look a certain way for your family. It doesn't have to mean your wise men are moving toward your manger.

But it does challenge us think about what does celebrating the coming of the Savior look like?

How do we live into light?