Always...Grace

Redemption with Donuts

2012-01-26T21:04:00.000-08:00

You would think I would learn, but no.
Apparently I am a slow learner with this raising teenagers stuff.
Had to nag the boy on the way to school,
When he's not even awake yet, not fully human.
Just raw emotion, sleepy body and hormones tumbled together
and slumped in the seat beside me.

"Don't forget you have one day of tuba practice to make up," I say.

I forgot my mantra of kindness and gentleness:
No corrections or negativity on the way to school.

Because, really, who needs to start his day hearing that?

Not surprisingly, a conflict was born,
Created by me, the one who boasts of being a peacemaker.
Tears in the voice, anger a little too close to the suface.

And then the TONE and the accusations and the raised voice:
You aren't listening, Mom.
You NEVER listen.

Suddenly my desire to take him for donuts was gone,
a good plan interrupted.
There is expressing himself and there is being disrespectful.
He had crossed the line.
"That's it. I'm not taking you for donuts."
And I didn't.

Oh, there was great gnashing of teeth and renting of clothes.
"I wasn't yelling; YOU are the one who started it."
"I didn't MEAN to raise my voice."
And finally, quietly, "I'm sorry, Mom."

These are the "gray area" moments of parenting when I waffle.
Yes, I want to set limits and consequences and follow through.
Yes, I want my son to speak respectfully, even when he's upset.
But the bigger goal for me, for us, the bigger question:
What can I do to help restore connection, to make it right?
How can I show grace, that it's okay to ask for a do-over?

This day I said,
"If you can be nice, we might be able to go a little later."

No for now, but not forever.
The consequence is not getting it when you wanted it
but the possibility is still there.

In his silence, I could sense the emotional movement
from disappointment
to consideration
to acceptance.

Him smiling and the investment was worth it.

Thankful for daily opportunities to offer grace,
Even with donuts.

I Held a Place for You Today

2011-11-08T21:39:00.000-08:00

For Mindy, Pixie, and Linda, my Tuesday morning prayer circle and lifeline:

I held a place for you today,

sitting thoughtfully, quietly on the bench in front of the church

in bright daylight

listening to the trees, teeming with life:

birds calling,

squirrels chirping,

crows caw-ing,

owl hooting in the distance.

No question of God's presence

through creatures who also call our church their home.

I held a place for you today,
cool breeze on my cheek,

wispy gray clouds moving swiftly over blue skies.

I sit here in this place.

I feel at home,

welcome...
my church.

I held a place for you today

with shades of green and bursts of vibrant color,

miraculous in the midst of drought,

each pot carfeully tended by a loving gardener.

Zoom in on a blooming pot of magenta

a bumblebee, no two, makes his rounds.

Zoom in a little more

and ants make their way along green stem highways,

about their busy work.

I held a place for you today

Nestled here in the livable forest

I only need to zoom out, to shift my focus
and I can hear and see the community beyond:

cars dropping children to school,

school buses delivering precious cargo,
dogs barking to be let in,
an airplane roaring across the sky.
We, as a church, hold a relevant place in our community,
offering friendship, belonging, gratitude
and the face of Hope.

I held a place for you today
Marveling that this church is more than two buildings and a playground
with a cool new covered walkway.
This place which has grown with me,
represents my faith,
my journey,
my family,
and my faithful God
who always
holds a place

for

me.

Carnival Queen

2011-08-08T06:51:00.000-07:00

Ryan's brother Jelani works for Coca Cola - he's on the right

Cousin Adonte

Cousins ready for fun!

Traditional Short-Knee Band

Adorable Little Flowers

Scary Vecco

Chloe, Jada & Adonte Play Fancy Mas

Even a downpour can't stop their fun

Steel Pan Competition

The Band Goes to Grenville

Right in the thick of things!

Carnival Queen Chloe

A Day for the Boy

2011-08-03T18:52:00.000-07:00

Traveling to Grenada is a pretty amazing trip. We are so fortunate to be able to visit a beautiful Caribbean island AND reconnect with family at the same time. We are also aware of the fact that our kids may not feel quite the same way. Our daughter is a little Caribbean mama - thankfully, she carries her dad's personality- a go-with-the-flow kinda gal. From the minute we arrived, she has been so happy to see her cousins that we have hardly seen her. She eats what they eat, bathes when they bathe and is perfectly content. Our son, on the other hand, is a little more high maintenance, taking on his mother's personality. We have to adjust to the heat, to the water, to the food. Plus, there aren't any cousins his age to hang with. So, as they say in Grenada, he is "just there."

I was reminded that this "family vacation" might not be so much fun for him last night, when I read on Facebook that he "didn't feel good and wanted to go home." Uh-oh. We had spent the first two days settling in and had overlooked Trent a bit in the process - we hadn't really planned anything fun for him so far. That would have to change. My first strategy was to get him off the iPod and get him to interact with us and the rest of the family.

I said, "Hon, you know, you can talk to people."

He said, "Mom, I don't even know these people. What am I supposed to say?"

Well, I could see his point there - a lot of the people I don't really know either. I do a lot of smiling and nodding. But he is only 12 years old. Bottom line is - these aren't his peeps.

Since Chloe was doing just fine, we needed a little quality time with Trent. I suggested we play a card game. He was agreeable so we sat out on the porch where we could get some fresh air and ocean breeze and I taught him how to play 500 Rummy. Great call. By bedtime, we had been joking and laughing Connection was restored.

It occurred to me that I have to show my not-so-laid-back-kid how to kick back and relax on vacations like this. What do we do when we have down time? How do we stay connected to the family without hiding behind technology? In other words, how do we unplug? This is something I have to model for this child who is so much like me it is spooky. What does he see my doing? Resting, doing suduko puzzles, and reading.

Our first order of the day tomorrow: beach time.

This timed out perfectly because Chloe ended up going into town with her aunt, uncle & cousins. That left time for us to spend with Trent. We had a lovely lunch together - Trent's choice (roti!)

Then we headed to Bathway, our favorite beach. From the minute the kid hit the blue-green water, a smile never left his lips.

He had more fun jumping the waves, diving into the surf, building sandcastles with Dad and burying Mom in the sand. Trent and I even battled our way through the rough surf, trying to climb to the top of the rocks, before we gave up after feeling like our lives were in danger.

But in the process, we made a memory! We cooled off with cold sodas and drove to Levera beach at the northern tip of the island and walked around.

We finally headed back home, full of sun and sand, arguing over who got to shower first.

It is a juggling act, this parenting job. And vacations are no exception. In fact, I would say that vacations intensify the juggling! Not only do we have to budget for the trip and make the plans. We also have to shop and pack and unpack and entertain. And then we have to check in: Is he doing okay? Is she? Are they drinking enough water? Are they pooping regularly? Are they homesick? If they are having a hard adjustment, we have to figure out ways to help make it easier.

We gain so much when we come to Grenada.
We get a true life experience vs. a tourist experience.
Ryan and I reconnect with family and friends.
Our children get to experience the culture where their dad grew up.
They get to meet the family members from the Grenada side of their family tree.
That is a gift.

And we have to balance this with the fact that it is a vacation for the children, too. They need to experience the fun of a vacation as well.

Today we are half-way through our trip. We each made a list of the fun things we still want to do. We are having a blast, planning our last week, slowly crossing the items off our list.

Before we know it, we will be home; our days in Grenada will feel like a dream.

Today we will enjoy each moment.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

2011-07-29T09:11:00.000-07:00

There is nothing like a vacation - especially one that takes me over 2,000 miles away - to help me wind down and relax. There is also something magical about traveling back to the beautiful little island where I spent two years of my life as an eager and yet somewhat nervous Peace Corps volunteer. I was stunned to realize that it was exactly 20 years ago that I walked these streets, calling Grenada home.

20 years.

How could that be possible?

That means that the students I taught are now grown; some even have grandchildren!

It hasn't taken me long to slide into the relaxed island pace. For the record, I'd like to note that Ryan was actually rushing me out the door yesterday, after I literally slept until noon and was feeling fully slug-i-fied. We had to get to the bank to change money before it closed at 2pm. With a smile Ryan said, "I promise this is the last time I will rush you for the entire trip!"

We spend our days "liming" - driving and walking around, stopping to say hello to nearly everyone we pass. Trent has gained a new perspective of his dad's popularity. We have a running bet that there is nowhere we can go in this town or this island where Ryan doesn't meet someone he knows.

I guess that is what home is.

The place where everybody knows your name.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when more than once I've heard, "Miss Nelsooooooooon." Students I taught in the two primary schools here still remember me after 20 years, even with shorter hair, more wrinkles and more of me to love.

I guess that is what home is.
The place where everybody knows your name.

Thank you, God, for beautiful places to call home.

Our little cottage

Chloe and cousin Jada

Beautiful Khavani, the newest addition to the family

Ryan's best friend Robert and his son, Brent

Lucky Man

2011-07-16T10:24:00.000-07:00

As I forced my tired eyes open this morning,
One of the few Saturdays that I could let my body wake up when it wanted to

I saw Ryan just staring at me
A smile on his lips

"I'm a damn lucky man," he whispered.

Sweet blessing.

Can You Open It Now?

2011-07-14T06:55:00.000-07:00

She jumped out of her grandparent's car and ran into my arms,
my youngest,
my precious girl,
whose cheeks I had not smooched in three days.
It was a full-body hug,
that said, "I really missed you."
My favorite kind.

After a few minutes she asked Nana,

"Can I get it now?"

She and my mom disappeared for a moment.

She called my name

and I turned toward her voice,

But all I could see was the huge beautifully wrapped box,
with two Chloe legs sticking out below.

She set the box down,
"Can you open it now? It's an early birthday present."

Now that is a surprise.
My birthday is more than a month away.
Her smile and excitement tugged on my heart.
In a minute, honey, let's say goodbye to Nana and Papa first, ok?

As Nana and Papa drive away,
We come inside the camper and have supper,
Hot dogs and chips filling our bellies.

"Can you open it now?"
Just a moment, sweetie,
I want to take a picture of your beautiful wrapping and coloring.

More waiting
while we scramble for the camera.

Finally, an eternity later,
"Ok, let's open it!"
She squeals and begins to help me.

A BIG box
with LOTS of packaging and
finally

I reach the treasure.

A handmade birdhouse.

An original creation
made by Chloe and Papa.

Representing hours of togetherness:

assembling

and hammering

and nailing
and sanding

and painting

and waiting

and decorating

and wrapping.

An unexpected gift

full of the pride of creating

and the joy of working together,

granddaughter and granddad.

Given freely to me,

With love.

Opportunity

2011-07-13T20:11:00.000-07:00

Many hands make light work. ~John Heywood

A successful team is a group of many hands but of one mind.

~Bill Bethel

Working Together to Work Wonders ~UTMB motto

The whole body,

joined and held together by every supporting ligament,

grows and builds itself up in love,

as each part does its work. ~Ephesians 4:16

Summing it all up, friends, I'd say you'll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies. ~ Philippians 4:8

So let's work this through together ~Job 33:7

You were all called to travel on the same road and in the same direction, so stay together, both outwardly and inwardly. You have one Master, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who rules over all, works through all, and is present in all. Everything you are and think and do is permeated with Oneness.
~ Ephesians 4:4

How we spend our days, is of course, how we spend our lives.

-- Annie Dillard

Holy Weed Pulling

2011-07-07T18:24:00.000-07:00

Ok, confession time:
Car washing and yard work are not my favorite things. So that means dear Ryan is on his own when it comes to a clean car or weeded flower beds. Trent has taken on yard mowing as one of his chores this year and he does a fine job.

So Ryan and Trent take care of the mowing, edging and blowing and I do the laundry, clutter pick up, and shopping. We share the cleaning and cooking. Seems pretty equitable to me.

A few times this past year, Ryan has asked for some help with the yard and I pretended I didn't hear him. He asked a few weeks ago and I answered in my most whiny voice, "But it's HOT outside!"

Last week, Ryan had asked Trent to get the yard mowed. By early evening the yard still wasn't done. Ryan reminded Trent, who didn't really feel like doing it. He was tired, he said, and would rather do it in the morning. The problem was, he hadn't done it in the morning and he was being asked to do it now. Trent chose to complain and stomp upstairs for a nap. Without yelling or even raising his voice, Ryan went out back and pulled out the mower. I thought, "Uh-oh." I met Ryan outside and offered to do the mowing, but he politely declined.

At the sound of the mower running in the front yard, Trent came flying down the stairs. "Why is Dad mowing? I was going to do it, I was just getting on my shoes. Now he's gonna be MAD."

I summoned up my best Love & Logic response, empathy first. "That's a bummer. We had no way of knowing that. Now Dad is doing your job since you didn't want to. I'm sure there will be a consequence, but we'll have to discuss it. We'll let you know. Try not to worry."

I was ready to walk away from my pitiful, grumbling, complaining man-boy until I heard these words: "Mom, I messed up. How can I fix this?" Ahhh..music to my ears.

I suggested he go outside and say these words to his dad and ask what else he could do to help. I could tell he was a little stuck, so I went outside with him and together we talked to his dad. Ryan said, "Well, I could use some help weeding the front flower beds."

Relieved, Trent ran around to the front and began helping. I was pondering the magic formula for raising helpful kids. It isn't rocket science - we just model being helpful. When we catch them doing their chores, we say, "Would you like some help with that?" and we help. They watch us being helpful and learn to be helpful. This was the perfect opportunity to put that into practice. I called for Chloe to come to the front and help us.

We began to work together on the jungly,

overgrown flower beds.

As we beagan to make headway,

before I knew it,

we were smiling,

we were joking,

and we were laughing.

We were also dirty and beyond hot,

soaked clean through

from our efforts in 105 degree heat.

We gathered up the demon weeds, filling up two black garbage bags, while Chloe swept the sidewalk and street. After we picked up all our tools and deposited them in the garage, we all jumped in the pool with our clothes on. We splashed around together, cooling our bodies and feeling the pride of our family accomplishment.

I basked in the joy

of a family working together,

of helping ease the way for father and son to communicate,

of connection restored.

Holy time, even among weeds.

Bedtime Blessings

2011-06-30T20:56:00.000-07:00

Is there a sweeter time than bedtime? Tonight Chloe chose Little Cloud by Eric Carle and Kersplatypus by Susan Mitchell to read for her bedtime stories. She reads to me now and I'm filled with joy listening to my big girl read with such confidence and expression.

The especially adorable part is that her mouth has one less tooth tonight, after she spent all day yesterday "rocking" that loose tooth, though it stubbornly hung in there until early afternoon.

Chloe was amazed to see that Kersplatypus had an inscription on the title page written by the author to her! The author, Susan Mitchell, spoke at Chloe's school this year. Very cool.

Connecting the story to the author to herself was even cooler.

This sweet connection was a precious gift to me today -

a glittering jewel in my crown of memories.

Goodnight, my sweet girl.

Meltdowns, Not Just for Toddlers...

2011-06-30T05:45:00.000-07:00

The painting party for the gals at church seemed like a great idea four months ago when we put it on the calendar. The end of June - well into summer and the "more relaxed summer schedule." Problem is, I never made it to that elusive "more relaxed summer schedule." Why, you ask? I blame it on the Kingwood Blaze, Trent's All-Star baseball team. I knew I was crazy to volunteer to be the team mom for the regular spring baseball season with our community league. I mean, it was our first time to even PLAY in the league. I didn't have a clue! Surely there was a mom with more league experience? But no one else volunteered and our coach was going to have to miss our first scrimmage to attend the meeting. That's crazy, I thought. How hard can it be? I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew I was organized. I could listen, take notes and follow directions. Honestly, I have such a deep appreciation for little league coaches, who volunteer their time, giving up almost every night of the week, at the expense of their families, just because they love teaching the game. It was the least I could do to show my appreciation. Well, fast forward two months to the All Star season. Trent was thrilled to be selected for the team; Ryan got recruited as team photographer and assistant coach. Our beloved Coach Paschall was coaching the 12 year old team and before I knew it I said yes to being Team Manager. I got sucked in with the old, "You were the best team mom, ever." Clearly I was ignorant about the Team Manager responsibilities for an All Star team. Oh, we have to fundraise? How much? Oh, and organize a two shirt uniform, practice shirt and fan shirt? No problem, except when the coaches' shirts got printed without names and numbers, causing a last minute scramble to keep our team within the tournament regulations. A two week long tension headache was the first symptom that I was wound too tight. I had been going from one event to the next, with no down time - for me a ticking time bomb at best. The only way I was able to keep my feet on the floor was because of Ryan, who picked up the slack in heroic ways, all the while shaking his head.

As I scrambled to make it to the painting class, I still had a To Do list a mile long, which included sewing 12 patches on baseball uniforms, finishing 79% of a book I was supposed to lead a discussion on the next morning and final preparations for my daughter's 7th birthday party the next day. But I was excited about the painting class! I had really been looking forward to it!

Twelve gals joined us for a "Painting with a Twist" kind of evening, minus the wine. Sabrina, ever the amazing teacher, guided us from the sea-foam green background to the blue eggs, to the nest around them, complete with shading to show depth and finally the tree branch the nest was settled in. Sounds simple, right? No pressure..it's just a nest..it's all just for fun. That would have been true in a non-frazzled state of my mind. But the more pathetic my nest looked, the less patience I had for the whole endeavor. As I looked around at my friends happily making twigs and cute little curlicue branches, my sad little nest just kept looking more and more like a brown blob.

I realized in that moment that I just needed to go home. We had about an hour left of our class. Sabrina saw my face and realized the jig was up. I couldn't figure out a way to quietly sneak out of there unnoticed, and when someone asked why I was leaving, I tearfully explained how overwhelmed I felt. It was embarassing. When I got home, I moped up the stairs to have a good cry. My son saw I was upset and instinctively gave me a big hug. My daughter kept asking, "Why is Mommy crying?" and I didn't have a good answer. But I did have a good cleansing cry. Trent brought me a cup of hot tea to help me feel better. Soon after, the doorbell rang and my sewing friend Denise, who had just left the painting party, showed up to help. She plopped down on my living room floor and she, Ryan and I got the 12 patches sewed on in 45 minutes. She asked, "What else can I do to help you get ready for tomorrow?"

Isn't that the very definition of friendship?

People who just show up to help,

even when we're too stubborn to ask for it,

even when we are beyond overwhelmed.

People who share our journey,

even when we are less than perfect,

even when it isn't pretty.

That is also what church means to me.

Everyone finished their bird nest paintings and they look beautiful, each in their own way.

I'm grateful that Nancy (top row left) was willing to hold up my nest picture in addition to hers. These friends honored my contribution by holding my place for me, even as I sobbed my frustrations into my pillow at home.

My nest picture is still unfinished.

I may get Ryan to help me fix it

or I may start completely over

or I may just paint over the whole canvass with white and start a different painting project.

I haven't decided yet.

But before I can decide, I need a whole lot more white space or down time in my summer and my life. Gently, I need to create the relaxed schedule of summer before it is too late. Gently, I need to accept my own limitations and be willing to ask others for help. If none of that works, and a meltdown is inevitable, where there is friendship, where there is church, there is always grace.

Praying with Chloe

2011-06-25T16:12:00.000-07:00

Day 6 - 24/7 Prayer - 8 am Friday morning

Today Chloe and I went to pray together.
First, we lit candles for others:

Candle #1

"Dear Lord, thank you for being with Papa during his surgery.
Help him to feel better & stronger soon."

Candle #2
"And Lord, help Anna & Rachel have a good trip."

Candle #3
"Oh, and even help me to find a buddy at my gym camp next week.
Amen."

Then we put on some music. Chloe chose the African Children's Choir. Excellent choice, I must say. She started moving to the rhythm right away and we made our way over to the art center.

The first thing I noticed was how much more art there was since the day before. Oh, yes. The teens had been there overnight for a lock-in. Together we looked at the art hanging on the wall.

Chloe noticed Kayla's picture right away. She loved how Kayla wrote LOVE using a heart for the O. She decided to try a picture just like it.

I decided to paint a heart using different colors radiating out from the center. I remembered making pictures like this when I was growing up, using crayola markers.

"God's
love is at the center
of my heart
It brings color
and stretches out
it never ends"

It was magical, sitting in that space with my daughter, creating and tuning in to God's whispers of love. I felt the energy of my creativity and well as the collective creativity that had been offered by others in this space. I recognized both as gifts from God. And I offered thanks.

Photography as Prayer

2011-06-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

24/7 Prayer Challenge
Jim Fuehrer offers his perspective

Welcome

Pray for people suffering from addictions of all kinds

Art as Prayer

Grafitti Wall

Mold Your Prayer

Communion with Christ

Confessing our sins

Praying globally for our sisters and brothers around the world

Praying with Saints and Icons

Pray for the Staff of KWCC

Pray for Upcoming Mission Trips

Writing Poetry with God

Prayer Wall

Praying with Sacred Objects

The Net - praying for those who don't know God's love

Prayer for our world leaders

Pray for Leaders of our City, State, & Nation

Reading in God's Presence

Thank you, Jim, for sharing your gifts with us

and for helping us to glimpse the sacred in the everyday.

24/Prayer Challenge - What Does Prayer Look Like?

2011-06-15T12:56:00.000-07:00

How could I spend a whole hour praying?

I asked Ryan to go up and take pictures for me. I expected him to be gone about 30 minutes. An hour and 30 minutes later he made it home. His explanation, "Well, I went up to take a few shots, but it was so cool I got sucked in!" That's what happens. God meets us there when we are faithful and show up!

24/7 Prayer Challenge - Day 1

2011-06-14T06:49:00.000-07:00

Sunday, June 12, 4am

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this
silent, sleeping church
In the hum of the air conditioner
As two clocks tick in unison

I sit alone, snuggled inside a blanket
Groggy with sleep
Fighting to stay with it
Honored to hold the church in safe-keeping
for this hour

Light a candle
Four flames burning,
evidence of the presence of others before me
loved ones, lifted in prayer

Prayer wall
the feel of metal and the clack of the magnets sticking
names we lift up to God

Music?
No..too jarring at this hour

Mold Your Prayer with Clay
More evidence of fellow travelers
An unexpected surprise
a creative invitation from my own child,
here before me this night.

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place
The sound of birds causes me to glance up
Through the windows I see the day breaking,
bringing the night to an end,
ushering in hope for this day
Hope.

I bask in the presence of God
Not in these four walls we constructed and call "church"
But in this space, still vibrating with the prayers of the brothers and sisters
who faithfully kept watch with me through the night.
I am blessed to have been a part of it.
Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.

24/7 Prayer- The Challenge

2011-06-13T19:11:00.000-07:00

Prayer
Seven days,

Twenty-four hours a day-

One hundred sixty-eight hours or

Ten thousand and eighty minutes

Monks in Europe practiced continual prayer for 100 years!

Young people from Revelation Church in Chichester, England,

decided that if monks could do it for 100 years,

they could do it for a month.

That was in 1999

They are still praying.

Since then 24/7 prayer has become an international movement

24/7 prayer rooms span the globe

People in the most unlikely places are praying.
At this moment,
95 groups in 25 countries are praying.
(Make that 96, if you include us)

And we're not just talking churches, either

Small rooms in the back of restaurants, hospitals and bars
Bringing Jesus into the world!

But that's crazy, you say

It's totally unrealistic!
A week?

Why not start smaller?
Just filling 24 hours would be challenging enough
It's outrageous, really.

You are asking me to pray for a whole hour?

What will I say?

What if I get bored, fall asleep?
I'm really not that great at praying, even for a few minutes
let alone a whole hour.

Our challenge at Kingwood Christian Church

is 24/7 prayer for the next week.

If the monks did it for 100 years

And young people in England
have been praying since 1999
Can't we commit to

Seven days,

Twenty-four hours a day-

One hundred sixty-eight hours?

Are we open to to possibility
that God will meet us there
that miracles could happen
that prayer can take many forms
that just showing up is enough

Are we open to the whisper of God
in candles,
and art,
and music,
and confession,
and bapismal water
and Scripture,
and movement,
and the bread and cup?

Will we meet Him in the stillness?

Follow Me into the Waters

2011-06-12T17:36:00.000-07:00

My 12 year old son, Trent, decided to begin the steps toward baptism and joined the Discipleship class at Kingwood Christian Church about five months ago. He was assigned a mentor, a member of our church who Trent really looks up to, Mr. Dave. The process has involved a monthly class after church which includes Bible study, discussion and thinking about Creation, Covenant, Christ, Church, and Completion. In the Disciples of Christ tradition, we dedicate babies after they are born. Then we celebrate a believer's baptism, which means that each child makes the decision to be baptized when they feel called and are ready to publicly confess that Jesus is their Lord and Savior. Some are ready at six, others at 16. I didn't feel any pressing need to coerce Trent into thinking about baptism. I had no set age in mind. Trent has been in our church from his very beginnings. Even in utero, he LOVED choir practice nights and would kick along with the music! He has been in church every time someone is baptized. I wanted it to be his idea, his decision. So when he expressed interest in the Discipleship class, I was pleased.

Fast forward to the weekend before the first class. "You mean there is homework?" Trent grumbled, now second-guessing his decision. At this time I realized that I was not the person to convince him that this homework was important and needed to be done. Enter mentor, Dave, who has a wonderful low-key way of talking with and encouraging Trent.

Thankfully, Dave made a commitment to get together with Trent before their class met each time to work on the homework together. He also attended the classes with him, nudging him (sometimes literally) as needed. This is what church is for me. I get emotional just typing these words. How blessed we are to be a part of a church family where others can and will step in and nurture our children, filling in the gaps when we can't, picking up the slack, from watching for cars in the parking lot to leading them in their faith. If it had been left up to me to insist he did the homework and attend the classes, (I hope you are seeing the unpleasant picture here) he probably would have dropped out. But when another person (who wasn't Mom) stepped in to walk with him, things moved along just beautifully.

Today, I tried to hold it together as I watched my son follow Jesus into the waters of baptism. It was one of my proudest and most joy-filled moments.

I can't wait to see what God will do in your life, my precious son.

With gratitude to Jim Fuehrer and Ryan Nelson-Paryag for the photos.

Sister Saturdays - More Beauty from Sabrina

2011-06-11T22:00:00.000-07:00

Lucky for us, Sabrina Reynolds has again offered the gift of her honesty, insight, and wisdom. I am so pleased to introduce this mom, wife, student, care-giver, spiritual director, fellow traveler, and one of the most beautifully creative people I've ever met.

Earlier this spring our family was blessed with the nesting of cardinals in our jasmine. We enjoyed watching the activity of the cardinal pair taking turns feeding the young, feeding each other, and guarding the nest. The cardinals abandoned the nest when their young took flight and I quickly stole the opportunity to photograph the nest. I immediately began to dream about using the photograph as inspiration for a painting. I began to think about how much energy it takes to build something - how many elements it took to put a nest in place. After all, someone had to plant the jasmine and nurture them; someone had to build a nest; someone had to feed; someone had to incubate eggs; someone had to watch for predators. Observing the architecture of the nest, I began to see the many small pieces of debris that constituted the delicately built nest. How could something so delicate sustain life? The nest was a mystery. I decided to further photograph the nest looking for answers to such questions.

Last night, in an effort to take advantage of an empty house and avoid cleaning a messy play room and kitchen, I sat down at the table, blank canvas in front of me, photograph in hand, and started laying down the first layer of paint. I decided that since the nest was well hidden in the jasmine that the entire background would be various shades of green.

I then laid in a patch of light blue for the eggs, and began to build a burnt umber nest on top of the green and blue.

As I laid in color after color using different sized brushes and strokes, the canvas began to exhibit something that looked like a nest – so many layers and still so many more to go.

As I laid in the last swipes of color for branches and leaves, I stepped back to see what, if anything, was missing. I wasn’t unhappy with the painting but I soon began to realize that I had made a few choices in the background that stole the whole point of the painting – that delicately built nest – the manger for life didn’t captivate the impact I had envisioned.

Reflecting on the process of bringing a dream to life, I began worry about what other people would think about the painting. I glanced back at the newly painted nest. A huge epiphany opened my eyes to the fact that I had not painted this piece for anyone other than myself. I had just realized one of my dreams – I created an original piece of art from one of my very own photographs. I had just figured out how to make it all come to life. I realized that in all things, it’s not always going to be perfect the first time. Each stroke on that canvas was a prayer, a tiny stroke of hope that built up to something so incredibly delicate and so perfectly balanced – the reality of a dream.

I am happy to share with all of you the reality of another dream – the sharing of these thoughts and experiences with you through this blog.

Thank you for your faith, hope, love and encouragement as I develop my voice.
~Sabrina

Be Still

2011-06-10T17:48:00.000-07:00

Psalm 46:10 Be Still and Know that I Am God

Imagine your life is a blank piece of paper. Now think of the things that make up or fill up your life right now. Write or draw the things that take up your time and energy in size proportion to how much time you spend doing them. If you spend most of your time working, then the word “work” (or a picture for it) would be the largest thing on your paper. Then fill in the other things you spend your days doing. When you are finished your picture might look something like this:

What do I notice? Not very much whitespace. What do I know? I need to create opportunities for whitespace in my life. What is the danger for me? Being full of resolve to clear some whitespace in my life, and before I know it, I have filled the vacancy with some other activity! Glynn Young wrote in his community blog, “The whitespace in our lives is like that. We have it, but we usually try to fill it up with activities and stuff. Yet that whitespace is the rest time, the thinking time, the quiet time that we need to let ourselves be quiet. It’s the time when God speaks most clearly, or when we’ve pushed away all the distractions that invade our lives so that we can hear God speaking clearly.” I know that I have to be very intentional about carving out time to be still. What are some strategies you use? My pastor says she intentionally builds extra time into her day, between appointments, so that after arriving at her destination, she can turn off the car, breathe, and have time to be still. One friend uses her car time to pray on the way, chatting with God like an old friend in the passenger seat. Another friend takes a little extra time in…*gasp* the bathroom stall at work for a few moments of stillness. While I sometimes wish I could wipe my paper clean of many of the activities that take up my waking hours, the reality is that we do have these activities to juggle as a family and they do bring me great joy.

Let me be honest. Being still is not my strong suit. In fact, it takes a great deal of effort for me to be still. But God is exceedingly patient with me. When I take the time to be still and listen for God I am always amazed at what God has to say. I believe that God had Ryan in mind for me as a life partner. This laid-back Caribbean man will call me over to him in the evenings and say, "Honey, you haven’t stopped since you came home. Come sit down with me and relax." The truth is, I don’t even realize I am still going at such a high speed until he mentions it. He doesn't have any trouble taking time to chill out. More often, I need to follow his example in the relaxing department!

Recently, in my weekly Bible study group Sisters of the Spirit, we decided to try an experiment from The Joy Diet by Martha Beck. Her first exercise for a more joy-filled life is to practice 15 minutes of nothing each day. We were already doing a study called Contagious Joy by Christa Kinde. What a perfect experiment, right? I mean, how hard can it be to do nothing for 15 minutes? Well, it was very hard. One of my days of 15 minutes of nothing included a nap on a hammock, which I was happy about, but may not really count as nothing. I also cheated a little by having a notebook handy to joy down things on my to-do list, so they could stop swirling around my head and move on by. When we met the following week to discuss our experiences, I was surprised that everyone found it challenging. Some group members found that they fell asleep as soon as they stopped moving. That is an indicator of our exhaustion level, I think. While our goal was not to stop our thoughts, we were amazed at the non-stop-stream- of-random-and-sometimes-related-thoughts-and-subsequent-rabbit-trails constantly moving through our minds. When we are always moving, we don't realize that our minds, our thoughts, are always moving, too. When I committed to the week-long exercise, I scheduled intentional time to do it (plus, as the group leader, I need to be setting an example, right?) But even after recognizing that there was value in the discipline and indeed greater joy, as Martha Beck suggests, once the week was over I was back to my same routine, minus the 15 minutes of silence. Perhaps it helped me to be open to any opportunities for stillness that arise. If I have five extra minutes before a class starts, I can check status updates on my friends’ Facebook pages or I can close my eyes and listen to the birds singing. I just have to remember that I need to take time to be still. Every time I do, even for a brief moment, God is there waiting for me, not with a disappointed expression, but with open arms.

Questions to ponder

· How do you carve out time to be still?

· Think of a time when God surprised you during your quiet time

· What other ways do you hear God speaking in your life?

· What do you gain after a time of being still? Does this motivate you?

· What other scriptures come to mind when thinking of being still?

Worship

2011-06-05T00:30:00.000-07:00

What is worship?
For me, worship is many things. It is expressing my praise and gratitude to God. Worship does not have to take place in any particular building, but worship happens when I open my heart to God. I am privileged to worship every Sunday morning among those molders and shapers of my faith who raised me and have loved me for the last 30 years. Watching my children grow in their faith in this same church is a blessing beyond words.

Worship happens spontaneously for me when I am in nature. Sunsets and sunrises, trees and birds, the sound of waves, and shaded greenbelts all bring me close to God. Because of all the windows in our sanctuary, we can see trees and clouds outside, no matter where we sit. Closeness to creation brings me closer to the Creator.

Just being still provides another opportunity to worship. Often on hectic Sunday mornings, after getting everyone ready and getting out of the house (almost) on time, Sunday school, choir practice, and song leading, the first time I stop for a minute to BREATHE, to open my heart to the God who loves me, is during Miss Pixie's beautiful prelude. Sometimes in those moments of intentional stillness, something will crack open inside me and tears will spill over. Not because I'm sad or upset, but because joy and gratitude just bubble up and overflow. I am filled with so much love for my God and my church and my church family. This is worship.

My thanks to Ryan who always keeps his eyes & heart open for the whispers of God...

Sister Saturdays - Sabrina Reynolds

2011-06-04T00:00:00.000-07:00

As I have been dreaming and thinking (out loud) about writing a blog, I have discovered many friends, Sisters I call them, who have a gift for words. Sometimes these gifts are shared in a well-written or funny article for our church newsletter. Maybe we hear beautiful words in a thank you note or a particularly poignant Facebook comment or commentary. One of the reasons I'm excited to enter the blogging world is because this feels like a community effort for me. And in honor of the community of Sisters who support me, love me, minister to me, and guide me, I am honored to share with you some of their gifts. Today, for the first Sister Saturday, I am so pleased to introduce Sabrina Reynolds, mom, wife, student, care-giver, spiritual director, fellow traveler, and one of the most beautifully creative people I've ever met.
Enjoy,
Lindy

Making time

to listen to the instructions

for the next task.

There is so much more around these feelings –

these stirrings,

calling me forward,

propelling me.

NO catapults,

just a gentle push

to move forward,

to move with confidence,

and then

to rest.

All that is done,

All that is known,

only seen one frame at a time,

Occasional glimpses;

Circles of light just big enough to contain me

Until I see the next circle of light ahead;

Hints

of what is yet

to unfold.

- Sabrina Reynolds

- May 11, 2011

It is interesting to me now that I wrote this as a journal entry two days before my mom died. I remember sitting at the snack bar, laptop open, checking email, paying bills and reeling from Mother's Day weekend. My husband, George, was in Scotland on a business trip. The stress and exhaustion from a week of finals had overtaken me and I began to cry. Those tears drove me to write the lines of this poem. Sometimes it is hard to see where I am going even though God has given me very clear instructions. I remember thinking that all I had to do was follow the process. God had already made all the decisions. I just needed to remain faithful.

I hardly remember that week. It was such a blur. I was running on fumes. The only thing I had in the tank was the reoccurring thought that I needed to stop. So, Thursday night of "that" week, I took one last test - a 3 hour Astronomy humdinger - I returned home to my girls after using the last little bit of energy I had to stop at the grocery store. The girls met me at the door and shooed me on to bed after reminding me that I looked as exhausted as I felt. I climbed into bed, laptop in tow - I still had a research paper to write. In my exhausted state, I found it hard to focus. I began to think about blowing off the paper – Did I have enough points to take the hit and not do the paper? I simply couldn’t do one more thing.

I put the laptop aside, snuggled my wilted body down into the covers on George's side of the bed and went to sleep thinking that I would get up the next morning and write the paper.

The rest, for now, is a story for another day.

From Grumbling to Gratitude

2011-06-03T16:39:00.000-07:00

It was one of those Sundays when the to-do list in my mind was growing by the minute. The more I tried to do, the more there was to do. Finally, at about 4:00 I took a creativity break. I was participating in an amazing online class called Mondo Beyondo – an opportunity to dream big. Our assignment for the week was to create a mantra or a personal theme for ourselves and then to creatively express it. I had already chosen my mantra: “I have enough, I do enough, I am enough." In the spirit of living out my mantra, I quietly carved out a little spot in our dining/craft room and gathered my supplies. Oh, I forgot to mention was that I had planned on solo creative time.

Growing up as an only child, time by myself to putter, clean, organize, create, whatever, has always been important to me. I didn’t even realize how much so until my husband Ryan and I were dating. He would notice me starting to get snippy with him and he’d say, “I think you need some time by yourself, Hon.” And he was always right.

Well, fast forward 20 years. In a life with kids who are 6 and 12, a husband, and an aging but adorable Westie, alone time doesn’t happen very often. I had hoped to begin working on my project undetected. But similar to the way the dog just knows when you are making lunches and waits patiently for the bread crusts you will trim off and feed to him, my kids have radar for when mom is doing crafts. I had just started working when my 6 year old daughter Chloe came in and started gathering up some materials for her project. “So much for alone time,” I muttered to myself. In case you might think my kids are deprived in the craft department, let me assure you that they have plenty of craft supplies, for any possible project – feathers, googly-eyes, craft sticks, clay, glue, markers, paper – all of it. And I have my stuff for scrapbooking in a separate area. Why is it they always want to use my stuff?

So Chloe and I began working on our projects, coming to consensus on which stickers and paper we would share. I shared some sticker letters and she shared a sparkly pink curlicue sticker from her stash that was the finishing touch on my project. As we worked side-by-side, a beautiful thing happened. My tension started lifting. The creative energy flowing between us shifted my resentment into joy. My grumbling turned to gratitude as I observed her creation taking shape. In the end, her project turned out way cooler than mine. She made a sticker collage for her friend Rheagan, with all these cute little “stories” embedded in the stickers: “See the snake? He is close to the birds but he isn't going to hurt them. They are all friends.” As we admired our work, I felt guilt and then grace wash over me. Yes, I felt a little guilty that I really didn’t want her to be there at the beginning. But I was thankful that I kept my grumbling and my solo agenda to myself. I felt happy that my daughter felt comfortable enough to just gather up what she needed to work and plop down beside me. I felt honored that she wanted to be with me, doing something creative. It was a great reminder that when we create space, beauty and grace will flow. If I hadn’t been open to a change in my mental plans, look at the opportunity I would have missed! God’s grace shows me that perfection isn’t the goal or even a requirement to experience joy. What a relief! That God could be patient enough to show this grumbling mom something beautiful – the gift of creativity – that is grace!

Ecclesiastes 5:18 (MSG) After looking at the way things are on this earth, here's what I've decided is the best way to live: Take care of yourself, have a good time, and make the most of whatever job you have for as long as God gives you life. And that's about it. That's the human lot. Yes, we should make the most of what God gives, both the bounty and the capacity to enjoy it, accepting what's given and delighting in the work. It's God's gift! God deals out joy in the present, the now.

Love in Motion

2011-06-01T07:47:00.001-07:00

Why Grace?

2011-05-29T21:24:00.000-07:00

So I've been tossing around the idea of doing a blog for a while. In my typical approach to a new project, I began the research process by ordering a few books on the topic. I ended up with 2 great books - Blogging for Dummies by Gardner & Birley and the beautiful Blogging for Bliss by Tara Frey.

But how to choose a title for my blog? It needs to be catchy, and it needs to say what the blog is about. Reading my new books and talking to a few bloggers I knew left me feeling a little overwhelmed and I stalled there for several months. I considered doing a joint blog with my dear hubby Ryan, who is an insurance guy by profession but has a passion for photography. I thought of "Love in Black & White" which could be a play on words about photography or our interracial marriage, but that wasn't really what I wanted to blog about. Yes, we are different races and have gorgeous brown children, but how much can you really blog about that? What I really wanted to talk about was the beauty in the every day, the healing power of connection, and the ways God moves in our lives when we pay attention. Somehow I kept coming back to grace. Why grace? Maybe because my 44 year old brain is more unreliable than ever. Maybe because as a working mother of two kids I never even come close to crossing everything off my To-do list each day. Maybe because the older I get the more I believe that we're all doing the best we can.

According to the NIV Compact Dictionary of the Bible: "grace is defined as good will, loving-kindness, or mercy. Grace has come to signify the kindness of God to humans. In addition the word grace is also used to express the concept of kindness given to someone who doesn't deserve it. Grace, therefore, is that unmerited favor of God toward God's children." I recently heard a U2 song called "Grace." The lyric that stood out for me was "grace makes beauty out of ugly things."

How thankful I am to be the recipient of God's grace over and over again. When I am absent-minded and wrapped up in my own busy life, God is right there waiting for me - not with a frown of disappointment, but with joy, delight and open arms. When I seek forgiveness from my husband, my child or my friend and they offer it, I am blessed. In response, when my first reaction to a harsh word is to give that person the benefit of the doubt, considering what they might be feeling, that is a response of grace. When I choose to keep my mouth shut, rather than chew out my 12 year old all the way to school, that is miraculous grace! When I'm having a bad-mom day and a friend sends me a text telling me about a sweet thing my child did for her, that is grace. Maybe I'm preoccupied with grace because some days it feels like it's the only thing keeping me going. Or maybe it's not about practicing what I preach, but preaching what I need to practice. Always...Grace.

Why Can't I Be Like That?

2011-05-27T22:50:00.000-07:00

This morning as I stepped outside to get the paper, I did my usual check in with the flowering plants in our front garden. Have any new Gerber daisies appeared? How about the Easter lilies? Hello, beautiful and fragrant roses! I marvel at the roses most of all – all four varieties we have. First, let me confess that I do not claim gardening as one of my gifts. I don’t know the names of common flowers, don’t know which plants do well in sun and which don’t. And honestly, I’ve always had a bit of a prejudice against roses. It seems silly, I know. Roses? What’s not to love about roses? Well, I considered them a high-maintenance type of plant, requiring lots of extra care and pruning – a primadonna in the flower bed, if you will. My husband, the gardener in the family, had been wanting to plant a rose garden in memory of his mom, who loved roses and drew beautiful roses. So last summer my final resistance gave way and we planted four different colored rose bushes. I can’t remember all the names, but I remember the deep red rose bush was called “Mr. Lincoln”! Imagine my surprise to see the bushes flourish in our garden, with very little help or intervention from us. We enjoyed the fragrant blooms (these roses actually have a strong scent, unlike grocery store roses) for several months. When fall turned to winter, I worried about the roses – surely we’d have to protect them when we had a frost, but hubby said no they would be fine.

Since we live in the subtropical South and are prone to planting vulnerable tropical plants, each spring, as our garden experiences the miracle of resurrection and new life, we are anxious to see what plants we’ve lost and what comes back. I just knew those roses would be affected by our particularly harsh winter, but they came back strong in spite of my disbelief. We missed our opportunity to prune them, so rather than being bushy, they are getting taller and lankier.

So that brings me back to my morning greetings in the garden today. As I stepped on to the porch, I noticed an interesting sight. Next to the pink rose bush appeared a lone, white vinca plant, ten feet from the vincas in another flower bed. I imagined for a moment if these plants could talk…

Rose: Oh, what a beautiful morning! The sun is shining! Look at the beautiful bloom I created! Will my family come out and smell the new bloom today? Oh, there she is! Does she see the rose? Yes, she is smiling. She loves the scent – I hoped she would! Oh, look at that little vinca plant down there. I wonder what it feels like being so close to the earth. I’ll bet her life is simpler than mine - I long for that.

Vinca: What a great day! I’m so happy to be alive and stretch out my leaves and show off my white flower bloom. Oh no, the clouds are coming. Wait a minute, that’s not a cloud, that’s a shadow. It’s a beautiful rose bush towering over me! Look at the size of her bloom. I can even smell it all the way down here. I wish my flower had a fragrance. Why can’t I be a tall majestic rose bush like her?

It’s silly of course. No amount of wishing, or exercising or dieting or promising or plain sheer will are going to turn that little vinca into a rose. How often am I like this little plant? As much as I hate to admit it, when someone shares a celebration with me, how often is my first mental response in the form of a comparison? How many times have I thought,

“If only I could be as ___________ (fill in the blank) as ____________.”(fill in the blank)

Yet wishing I could sing as well as Julanne or be as creative as Paige or be as great a mom as Karen is as fruitless, and frankly silly, as that little vinca wishing she was a rose.

Paul says in his first letter to the church at Corinth : “I want you to think about how all this makes you more significant, not less. A body isn't just a single part blown up into something huge. It's all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, "I'm not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don't belong to this body," would that make it so? If Ear said, "I'm not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don't deserve a place on the head," would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it. “ 1 Corinthians 12:14-18 (MSG)

What a joy and a comfort to know that God has me right where He wants me. He isn’t disappointed that I left teaching to run my family business; he knows that I can be me, fully “me” right where I am. If I have eyes to see and ears to hear, He gives me all the resources and opportunities to reflect Him in all I say and do. Right here. Right now. What amazing love. What limitless grace!

PS: I am also blessed with a new appreciation for my rose bushes. How beautiful, self-sufficient and hearty they are! Given enough water, they grow very well. With a little extra attention, like feeding them coffee grounds or eggshells and pruning, they grow even better – not unlike all of us! Yes, my prejudice against roses was unfounded. I’m thankful that my persistent husband stuck to his garden dream and proved me wrong. Now, each morning as I say hello to the roses, I whisper a prayer of thanksgiving for Juliet, my precious mother-in-law, and her beautiful roses.

Update: Today the rose bush with the peach colored roses surprised me with 28 fragrant blooms!