Carpet Cleaner

 "Our souls were created for the perfection of paradise, but our journey here on earth is riddled with potholes and mud puddles. It it weren't, then we'd have no desire for our real home. We'd become so complacent here that we wouldn't press on toward heaven."

Yesterday we took Mo to the vet for his FINAL puppy vaccines. Peanut and I have been looking forward to him having all his shot so he can go places safely.

He was a decent car rider on the way to the vet. When we left the vet, he settled in and laid down on the back seat and looked like he might nap.

I make all his vet appointments at his nap time. He's used to being in his crate for a nap mid morning, and that's when we go to the vet. He's long since had his breakfast. He's run and played. He's ready to rest.

Peanut and I were talking about all the fun places we want to take Mo in a week (we have to wait one week for these vaccines to kick in).

And Mo threw up. EVERYWHERE. In my (still really new to me) car.

While a tiny part of me is hopeful that he'll outgrow it, most of me knows that's not how my life goes.

While we can definitely still take him places, it will involve a little more thought and planning and air freshner it seems.

It seems in all the things there is this GAP between the way it is and the way I wish it was.

Recently in a devotional I read a blurb about how God wants to fill these GAPS in your life. The author gave a few suggestions for how ( let it draw you closer to God, look at the gap through God's perspective, and remember the gap is temporary).

The author asserted the idea that the gaps will be closed.

I'm going to politely disagree based on my own experiences.

I am the QUEEN of what SD likes to call the "Norman Rockwell issue." I very much have a picture of how it all is supposed to go - it never looks perfect in mind, but it's a messy in a funny or light or enjoyable way.

And our life is never perfect, but it's usually messy in a hard, ugly, tough kind of way.

Not very Norman Rockwell.

More like vomit everywhere.

I've come to the conclusion that the GAP is where I am supposed to find my joy.

I'm living in the GAP.

Me, and all my people, and apparently my dog, will always be broken and messy folks in need of grace. And carpet cleaner.

If we spend all our time in the GAP praying to get out of it, or praying for it to look differently , or praying for something else - we miss the message IN the gap.

The gap is the place where we grow, where we learn, where we both receive and extend the love of Jesus.

Mama Warriors, as we wake on this beautiful Saturday morning, I encourage you to look for the joy in your gap today.

Peanut and I had big plans today - we've been looking forward to them for a while. Yesterday she had a little bit of an upset tummy so we decided it best to hunker down today, let her rest and nourish her immune system.

So while we aren't at the fun thing this morning we had hoped to be at, we are instead in the GAP.

And in the gap is Peanut in her mermaid tail blanket, curled up on my couch with the dog she desperately prayed for watching Saturday morning cartoons.

The gap can be beautiful too..............

Rough Draft

 "My mother had a great deal of trouble with me, but I think she enjoyed it." Mark Twain

Peanut and I have gotten off to a rocky start here in the third grade. Each year I pick one specific academic goal to be my main target, and then our other objectives take second seat to that.

This year I have chosen being able to write both a fiction narrative and a non fiction report.

I knew this was going to be a large undertaking. I signed Peanut up for a class at co-op that focuses on the non fiction report. I also chose a Language Arts class where she will read good narratives and learn what they sound like.

Peanut is an excellent story teller. Her stories have beginnings, middles, and ends. They are engaging with great transitions.

Peanut however will not write her stories down.

She struggles with spelling and does not want to write anything down on paper that is not perfect.

No matter how many times I explain the idea of a rough draft that can be later edited and corrected, she wants everything to look like a polished finished product from the start.

As we work through our sixth week of school, we've had some hard growing pains as I have insisted she try. Insisted she embrace the rough draft stage. Insisted she rise to her own potential.

I've refused to spell anything for her in the rough draft stage.

Peanut has been very upset about this. It's been stressful and ugly around here during the writing hour most days.

My goal isn't for Peanut to become a good writer (though I do see that in her future).

My goal isn't to improve Peanut's spelling (though that would be a good bonus).

My goal is to teach Peanut that she CAN do hard things.

I want Peanut to learn to handle the messy and hard.

To embrace the rough draft seasons of life.

All too often I think we all envision that life should always look like the polished paper that we turn in to the teacher.

For those who have spent any time writing, that is the end of a very long, growing process.

The best final drafts come from time spent wrestling with the rough draft.

Mama Warriors, as much as I think this is a lesson I desperately want to impart on all three of my children, it's more so a lesson for me.

I encourage you to embrace the rough draft seasons of your life.

The messy mornings. The long nights. The dog who is often more trouble than loveable.

In the rough draft is where we learn we can do hard things.

In the rough draft, that's where we do our best living.

Hypothetical

 “You know, I’m still learning this stuff, too, and since I’m still learning, I think I haven’t thought enough about what I’m supposed to be teaching you.” – Lorelai

Last weekend the girls and I went to out to eat in a local Mexican restaurant.

Upon sitting down, Peanut said "So we just tell them whatever we want and they make it?"

I realized in that moment that she has not eaten in a sit down restaurant that she remembers.

She had no concept of menus, wait staff, ordering, etc.

The last time I ate in a restaurant with her was September of 2013 - the year she was born. She was six months old, and nursing exclusively at the time.

The next time I ate inside a restaurant was March of this year but she wasn't with us. 7.5 years later. Even then I had a drink and slowly grazed the chips/salsa on the table. Didn't order.

I felt this slight twinge of guilt that she hadn't had this experience.

And then thought "Why do I feel bad that almost all her meals for the last 8.5 years have been in our home with our family?"

Yes she's had the occasional Lord's chicken nugget or some inferior fast food version. She definitely likes a Sonic slushie.

She's had countless park picnics, backyard lunches, and dinners at home followed by games and laughter.

It's interesting to me when I tell people how long it's been since I've eaten in a restaurant, or even food from a restaurant, the response is always something along the lines of "I could never."

The thing is you could if the consequences were grave enough.

That last time I ate out, in October of 2013, was the final straw that put me on a 100 pound quick weight loss program and was the most unhealthy I've ever been.

Healing my body with food became more important than anything else - cravings for cheese dip, convenience, cultural norms.

Keeping what I ate became my daily mission. Healing my body.

I've been thinking about that lately as everyone is still arguing over the possible responses to COVID.

I've been thinking about how a lot of the "I would never" is because the consequences aren't grave enough for that person. Yet.

Until something is personal it's so easy to get lost in the myriad of options, concerns, etc.

Until it's us, or someone super close to us, that lies in the ICU on a ventilator, it's all a hypothetical conversation.

Until it was me unable to keep down anything I ate, giving up eating out was always a conversation about finances, how we choose to spend our family time, etc. It was never about how to stay alive.

Hypothetical conversations are so easy to be passionate about.

Just ask anyone who does NOT have children their thoughts on child rearing. They have them. They are happy to share them. They will eat every single word sure they ever have kids.

That's how most of life's arguments go.

In October of 2013 I began a grave spiritual quest. I definitely had religious beliefs, feelings and practices before. But until the moment I thought I may not make it, they weren't personal.

Until the consequences felt personal, I sort of had a laissez faire relationship with Jesus.

And then I woke up one day and had to pray over every single bite I put in my mouth. I had to become fully dependent upon something greater than myself to even do the basics.

Then it was personal.

Mama Warriors, as our community still debates I ask you to make space that how you respond to anything greatly depends on the consequences for YOU.

Let's make space for the fact that the consequences for someone else may be different, and thus they may need to respond differently.

Hypothetical conversations are so easy.

Let's make space for the fact that sometimes our hypothetical is someone else's reality.

Still Waters

 "Thirsty souls of men and women can only be fully satisfied when their capacity and thirst for spiritual life is fully quenched by drawing on Himself."

I've decided that this dog, much like other spontaneous things that come into my life, have a lot to teach me.

We school out of our dining room. For the first few weeks we had Mo we continued to try to school in the dining room with him. He ate a lab report. And countless other assignments. He is completely freaked out by the printer and barks and attacks it every single time you print a page. He learned to remove books from the shelf just above his reach. He ate through plastic baskets.

No matter how much I rearranged or "Mo proofed" the room, he found something else to get into.

A generous friend brought me some baby gates, and we gated Mo out of the dining room completely.

That first picture is my view anytime I sit down to work or school.

Mo stands up on the gate and watches me until I get settled.

One I am seated and working, the second picture is my view. He decides the world is okay and he lays down to sleep.

First he checks in with me, then he rests.

He doesn't need to keep looking at me. He doesn't get up and peer over the gate multiple times. He knows I am nearby.

I am his still waters.

From me he gathers his safety, comfort, sustenance and peace.

I will admit it's been a bit overwhelming to be someone's whole world. Again.

He stays in constant contact with me. If he can get to me, you will find him on my feet. He sits on my feet while I cook. He lays at my feet while I drink tea outside on these (thankfully) chilly mornings. I spend the rest of my day tripping over him. We are that close. All the time.

I was listening to a sermon recently that challenged me with the question

Where are your still waters?

It was a sermon on Psalm 23. The preacher was exerting that many of us have forgotten to look for the Shepherd to lead us to still waters AND we've forgotten to linger there.

When He leads us to the gate, we are supposed to release all we are holding and lay down in peace. He's there.

As the addition of the dog, the return of school, and some other family things, have recently shaken my planned snowglobe of what this month would look like, I'm trying to find my own still waters.

I'm reminding myself that I, much like my dog, are most at peace when I am at the foot of the Shepherd.

When I find myself frantically running around trying to create peace, I know I am not near my own still waters.

Mama Warriors, the interesting thing is that YOUR still waters are not MY still waters.

Much like there are 5 of us here, Mo is only at peace at the foot of one of us. He's happy at others feet, content at some, but only at peace at mine. He's tuned in to his own still waters and is led by that.

We, too, need to find where He leads us and sit there.

Be still.

Puppy Biting

 "We're all chasing joy. Some joy comes when you least expect it. And some joy comes because you set yourself up for it."

Every morning I let Mo Trouble out of his crate and I literally trip over him trying to get the door open to take him out.

When we get outside, I've learned that he will not go to the bathroom UNTIL I have paid attention to him.

I sit in my blue chair on our deck and he immediately jumps on my knees to say good morning.

Once I've loved on him, talked to him, pet him, THEN he will go to the bathroom.

Together, we sit outside and wait for the sun to rise.

I took this picture of him this week and when I looked it at it on my camera I thought "He looks so little!"

We've had him a full month now and I forget sometimes he's just a puppy.

At the vet, we were told "When he's four months old, that's when you can START training him. If he learns anything before then, it's not solid. Developmentally, 4 months is when he can start making connections that stick."

I've been a tad frustrated with him as he has many very normal puppy behaviors.

This morning, as he had his paws on my knee and was so excited to see me, I reminded myself - he's just a toddler seeking my attention.

He's trying to figure out the rules. Learn the ropes.

I had one of those God wink moments.

My teenagers are trying to figure out the rules. Learn the ropes.

They often look like grown ups. Driving cars. Paying some bills. Holding down jobs. Navigating school. Making decisions.

But they are not grown ups.

They often don't know how to ask for attention in appropriate ways.

They often don't ask for help when they should. When they need it.

They often make messes that they can't clean up on their own.

And all of that is okay.

Just as it's designed to be.

But much like Mo Trouble and his puppy biting, it can be hard to remember that just because we see some behaviors doesn't mean developmentally they are ready for ALL the things.

Mama Warriors, maybe you, like me, want your kids to hold on to their childhood.

Stop rushing to the next stage because we all know it's fleeting and you can't go back.

But maybe you, like me, sometimes get frustrated with the puppy biting behaviors of raising teenagers.

It can be painful and hurtful. An ugly walk.

Sometimes the way they show they love us does not look like the way we want to receive love.

Sometimes the bites leave marks that are hard to forget.

Let's remember that they are not grown ups.

But we are.

Love Wins

 "What Mister Rogers taught us is that the dignity of a person is not dependent upon anything except the fact that they exist and are made in the image of God. His or her attitude, opinions, political affiliation, education, race, gender, or even their words or actions are not the defining factor of their person even if we disapprove or disagree, even if the person is arrogant, ignorant, or annoying, even if the person does things differently than we would do." Emily P Freeman

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to attend a visitation for the death of a man who was well loved. As I stood in the funeral home and looked around, it was obvious he loved well.

Unfortunately attending funeral visitations seems to be a thing I do now.

It's a beautifully sad thing to step into the journey of grief with a family.

While the media, and perhaps your morning social media feed as well, would like for us all to think we are very different, we all have a lot more in common than we think.

We all love someone.

Someone loves us.

And there will be a day when those someones are standing in a funeral visitation line waiting to greet each other.

In the moment of extremes, as a community we seem to be able to show up for each other.

But I worry that in the doing life day to day, we are FAR from where we need to be.

We create division where division was never meant to exist.

We forget that we are all images of God.

I started my day praying for mother. A few weeks out of a knee replacement surgery and she is battling COVID. Her immune system has taken a beating the last few years - the cancer, the chemo, the multiple surgeries - and then more recently the ankle, and now the knee.

I have to quietly rally my prayer warriors because publically her battle is political.

Not personal.

And to me, and all who loves her, it's personal.

We, as a community, can not love each other well because we've forgotten that we are arguing, debating, and being ugly about people.

It is very much your right to make any decision you see fit for YOU.

But when you publicly insult and are ugly about those who make a different decision, you are forgetting that those image bearers made their own decision too. A decision they had a right to make.

Or hold an opinion they have a right to hold.

We create a community where someone like me doesn't ask you to pray for her mother because she's no longer a person and is very much a statistic in a poorly argued political debate.

It's kind of hard to see Jesus amongst all of it.

We should know our people want to pray for our needs above and beyond their stances on all the things.

I don't know about you but that's not how my feed looks this morning.

We've created division where division was never intended to exist.

Mama Warriors, I wonder how many times we miss the opportunity to really show up for each other because we've given the impression than anything other than loving each other as image bearers is our main goal?

I wonder how often we create division by our words and actions?

As the weather cools just a tad, I encourage us all to take a deep breath and let change seep into our soul.

Let's be ready to exhale love for ALL His people above all else.

Hate was never intended to win.