Darkness

 “...new life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.”

― Barbara Brown Taylor, Learning to Walk in the Dark

Mo Trouble and I have a pretty firm morning routine.

We begin our day by touching all the chores - we put the tea kettle on, we start a load of laundry, we make the bed, we change out the dishes, and we think about what will be for dinner.

Then, I put my shoes on - he gets his harness on - and we go out the door for our morning walk/run/pull/chase/bark.

This last week we get to the shoes on step and it's not daylight.

I've been torn.

Part of me likes to get our walk done early. Before school buses. Before my own kids wake with needs of their own. Before.

It's also hard to walk Mo in the dark. Leash training has not been mastered and walking him is a full contact, all hands on deck sport. Turns out the people in my neighborhood are litterers. Keeping Mo from eating trash is a top priority on our walk.

So most mornings I wait for daylight.

I hung these solar lights on our porch to gift us some light while we wait.

It turns out this week I've realized I'm a little uncomfortable in darkness.

I'm always searching for light.

This past week I finished an audiobook emphasizing the importance of learning to walk in darkness.

The author elaborated that there are lessons in darkness we never learn in the light.

Unless we sit in the hard, we never truly come through it. We are constantly circumventing the lesson.

We are surrounded, as usual it seems, with hard stages with all of our people lately.

Stages that require hard conversations. Asking big questions. Enforcing tough boundaries.

Darkness.

This week as I sipped my tea in the dark I realized that the more you sit in the dark, the more comfortable you become with darkness.

And the easier it is to see the light.

Your eyes adjust. Over time.

Mama Warriors, maybe you , like me, are walking in the dark.

Maybe you, your marriage, relationships, kids are in hard seasons. Maybe it feels like you are fumbling in the darkness.

I encourage you to LEAN IN. Live in the darkness.

Until you can see the light.

The light is always there.

Mirror

 "Have you ever thought to yourself like I have, "I shouldn't need anything, I have Christ?" But Paul needed his coat and books so much he wrote to Timothy and asked him to deliver them and God deemed it should make it into holy scriptures—so cannot I ask for coffee and my dog's head resting in my lap.

Paul was so ordinary.

Perhaps ordinary is more sacred than we think."

Last week Peanut and I had a rocky week.

We both came off a week of her being sick cranky, stretched and a bit on edge.

I noticed she was MUCH sassier than her norm. "MOM Stop treating me like a child. I'm not a child anymore." (screamed at me by the 9 year old)

She argued with me about everything. "Talking animals is NOT fiction. Animals can talk."

I downloaded a new parenting book (Brene Brown's The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting is a great read - on Hoopla read aloud by the author). I started rethinking all the things.

Old habits die hard.

Then I remembered that anytime there is a shift in our home, I should first look in the mirror.

I had spent a full week sleeping on Peanut's floor taking care of her around the clock. I was tired. I had not spent any time by myself. I had not done any of the things that ground me.

Living a thankful life is a CHOICE.

I gathered my new devotion book, an old favorite book, a fresh new journal and a hot cup of tea.

I read, I journaled. I listed the ordinary gifts of each day.

I shifted my PERSPECTIVE.

I remembered that WHO I AM is more important in my parenting than what I do.

Because when I am stretched, WHO I AM is what seeps.

I severely limited screens. I modeled reading books, listening to podcasts, trying out new art supplies, lingering in the kitchen over an old recipe, singing favorite songs, breathing fresh air and exploring new ideas. We went to bed early.

Slowly, my sweet Peanut returned.

I am the thermostat for my home, for my relationships.

Who I am, day in day out, in the ordinary makes a greater impact on who Peanut becomes than any parenting strategy.

Which means that I walk the hard with Peanut. I give words to what she can not. "Wow I'm feeling really cranky today. I'm not being as patient or kind as I know I can be. How can I change that?"

I set the boundaries. "You are feeling really frustrated. It's okay to be frustrated with me. You have to be respectful in how you communicate that. Would you like to take a minute to calm down or write down what you want to say?"

I repair the relationship moments where I didn't seep who I really am. "I'm sorry I raised my voice. There was no reason for me to raise my voice at you. You are just being nine years old. Being nine can be hard some times."

Mostly I remember that change always begins with me.

Mama Warriors, parenting these growing and changing people is hard.

If you don't love yourself well, you can't love them well.

You have to start with looking in the mirror.

Put out the Chair

 "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." Nadia Bolz Weber

I arrive at co-op each week nearly an hour before my friend as Peanut's classes begin a full class period before her daughter's.

Last week, I unloaded my chair and got set up to read under the shade of a tree. I had brought an extra chair for my friend.

I decided to go ahead and set her chair up even though it would be a while before she arrived.

I imagine that those who walked by wondered about my empty extra chair.

I knew she was coming.

From the moment West Ga assigned her to me as my room mate (a decision I definitely questioned at the time), she has always shown up. When that first college boyfriend ended up being the wrong choice, she showed up for Huddle House coffee and juke box selections. When I wasn't sure my now husband was ever going to be husband material, she showed up to listen to me rant. When my big kids were born and I was walking early motherhood solo, she showed up with a laminated copy of the newspaper (so they will always know what the AJC said on the day they were born). When I needed a work from home job, she showed up and co-authored books with me learning to write in the chaos of my dining room/play room.

While our friendship has ebbed and flowed over the years, she always shows up. I put her chair up because I knew she was coming.

The evidence says she shows up.

Each morning I pour myself an Irish breakfast tea and gather my devotion supplies.

I realized this week that I quit putting out a chair for Jesus.

Lately I feel like He's running late.

Or maybe I'm not not lingering long enough.

Today I remembered, you put out the chair for Jesus because he has shown up.

Because like my friend, I can list countless times where He did show up.

In His own way, in His own time, but always showing up.

Mama Warriors, sometimes I think we can't hear God speaking to us because we stop putting out the chair.

We stop expecting Him to talk to us.

Even though evidence suggests that He has shown up in the past so we can expect Him to show up again.

Let's put the chair out this week.

I Respect Your Decision

 "We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression or denial of my humanity and right to exist." Robert Jones Jr.

As Peanut and I have visited different churches over the last few months, she has started to ask some BIG questions.

She's wrestling with questions her mother didn't have until her mid 30s.

If each church has a different take on Jesus, and a different way to do ALL the things, then who is right?

How do we know which set of legalism is the RIGHT way?

Does God care about the logistics of what church looks like?

I have realized, in Peanut's eyes, the presentation of Jesus looks very different in every church. Even if their "mission" reads similarly.

I've been treading shaky ground as I affirm for Peanut what I believe but acknowledge that she gets to chose what she believes.

And what that looks like.

I recognize that this would be very hard for a lot of parents.

It was hard for me but not because I worried about her not believing what I believe.

But because I wanted to make sure I balanced presenting my faith to her with making space for her to ask questions, challenge teachings and arrive at her own conclusions.

It's also very important to me that Peanut recognize that we do not judge what others believe.

I will not participate in scaring Peanut into believing in Jesus with some hell and damnation sermon.

This week I went round 2 with Xfinity customer service. Apparently Omkar last time sold me an upgraded service, I paid for an upgraded service, but no one actually provided us with - you guessed it, an upgraded service.

This time when Goureau and I went rounds, he tried to sell me something I do not want.

I declined.

Goureau politely replied "I respect your decision."

For all the faults of my cable company, I give props to Goureau for not trying to push me into something I did not, and do not, want to buy.

The best answer we can give those who disagree with us is "I respect your decision."

And then act like it.

Mama Warriors, I firmly believe we have to teach our kids to respect the decisions of others.

And the best way to do that is to model respecting theirs.

By gifting our kids the opportunity to wrestle and ask questions, to make choices and to live out the consequences of those choices - we offer them the ability to really OWN whatever they chose to believe.

For those who like to know how things turned out, Peanut spent a few days trying to figure out if she believed in God.

If there were so many differences in the logistics, whose to say someone else doesn't have it right and we have it wrong?

She prayed, she asked questions, she decided she wanted to make space for the Jesus of our home in her heart.

She'd go to churches and she'd learn, and play, and join in community.

But how she worships would be something between her and Jesus and she asked him to live in her heart with her while she walked this journey.

I'd like to think we got here because rather than insist or push Peanut to believe what I believe, I made space for "I respect your decision."

In the end the ball was never really in my hands anyway.

I'm thankful I got invited to play the game.

Much

 "When the math doesn't work, we are walking in a place outside of logic and cause and effect. Some people call that Holy Ground."

We had the pleasure of spending Sunday at a local state park enjoying family.

Peanut is blessed to have many cousins- and cousins' cousins - to play with. Sunday was my idea of a perfect day. It very well could have been any summer day in 1980. A mess of kids running around. They rode bikes. They fished. They built sandcastles. They colored in coloring books. They ate snacks. They invented games.

If you want to buy yourself hours of time to visit with adults, give 8 kids 4 walkie talkies and sit back. They will self entertain. If you keep one walkie talkie, you will be able to find a kid when they show up missing.

As the sun began to set, and the rain began to pour, Peanut discovered a fish had ate her hook and she hadn't caught anything.

10 hours into our playdate, cue a massive meltdown.

I stood in the rain on the beach for a bit trying to talk her through it.

I realized in that moment she did not have the capacity to work through this right there. With her favorite people watching.

Too busy to eat much, she was hungry. She played much harder than she normally does in her solo kid life here at home. She was spent.

I made the executive decision that we were going to cut and run. I hurried a sobbing Peanut into the car, said some apologies and gave some sweet goodbye hugs and kisses, and we headed off.

Peanut has big feelings. Like her mother.

She requires processing all the feels. Like her mother.

Sometimes that is not a quick or pretty process. Like her mother.

I've spent a good bit of my life trying to hide my "muchness." It seems the beauty of arriving in your 40s is you realize the "muchness" is here to stay and everyone else can get on board or depart the station.

This summer was the first time I ever read that term "muchness" and it resonated so deeply with me.

"Love the Lord your God with all your heart - with all your feelings and affections - and with all your soul - with all your life-breath, your whole self - and with all your very, very much. With all your muchness. Me-od - muchness. The teacher smiled, "Love the Lord your God with all your very, very much."

The author further shares:

" You aren't too much, like the stars are never too bright, like the moon is never too large or luminous, like the wonders of the world are never too much. You aren't too much to the people who choose to see ALL of you. "

It's so important to me that Peanut knows she is NEVER too much.

There is space and grace for all her muchness.

Mama Warriors, maybe this morning you need to hear You aren't too much.

Your muchness is your STRENGTH.

You were gifted your muchness to use to build the kingdom. What better people to reach others than those who feel big?

Much.

Data

 "Those most qualified to speak the gospel are those who truly know how unqualified they are to speak the gospel."

Last week I went to the dermatologist to have a few things checked out. The last time I had been, I was covered in hives and the doctor and I both decided that it wasn't a good time to discuss other potential issues.

We needed to get the blazing fire under control before we could discuss anything else.

As the doctor addressed a few things I was concerned about, she came upon a spot I was not.

"Hmmm...I don't like the look of this. Can we biopsy it?"

I said yes prior to seeing the needle involved.

I left with a piece of paper detailing wound care and a note saying "don't call us, we'll call you. 10- 14 days."

I seem to navigate a good bit of my life in the waiting space.

I woke the next day and wondered, "How worried am I?"

I'm working on changing the soundtracks I tell myself. My knee jerk response to this is "VERY WORRIED." It's been 4 years (at least) since I've had all the moles checked. That particular spot was there 3 years ago when I went in for the hives. By the time I got the hives very under control, there was the pandemic.

I didn't prioritize having all the checks. What if it is something that I could have caught 3 years ago if I had gone in for that follow up visit suggested?

I should really make some master notebook of how to run our home, pay our bills, do things like find the kid's dentist.

The spiral continues.

I remind myself to stop.

I put on my shoes. I wrestle the wild dog into his harness and leash.

I put one foot in front of the other.

"It's all fine until the data says otherwise."

It's not a super catchy mantra. But I put one foot in front of the other and decide to chose.

"It's all fine until the data says otherwise."

I'm wondering how many things I could check off my worry list with that mantra.

The dishwasher isn't draining properly. BUT the dishes are still clean every time I run it.

It's all fine until the dishes are dirty after I run it.

The new math curriculum is challenging. It's taking longer to complete. The student is occasionally dramatic.

It's all fine until the test scores say it isn't working.

Sometimes our curiosity, our intellect, our access to information is too overwhelming.

We lose that ability to just say "It's all fine until the data says otherwise."

Google says maybe this might happen.

But has it?

Mama Warriors, maybe you are a master overthinker like me. If they gave degrees for that, I'd definitely have a doctorate.

I'm finding by making space to rewrite the soundtrack in my mind, that I'm making space for Jesus to speak to me.

In the space where I exhale, It's all fine...........He assures me, yes, child. It's all fine.

And sometimes, when you are putting one foot ahead of another and chasing the dog, the dermatologist calls and says, "It's all fine. The data says so."