The second Sunday in May

Maybe it's because I've worked in a church for the last 7 years of my life, but I'm acutely aware of Mother's Day every year and all the emotions wrapped up in it. It's like an awkward junior high dance to try and honor Mother's Day as a part of the Sunday service without acknowledging those for whom motherhood is an aching dream or those for whom memories of their own mother are extremely painful. I had a hard conversation with someone this morning. His wife left him with three children and today is especially difficult for their family. Ugh! How do we tend to those hearts as well as celebrate the moms out there? Too often we skip the celebration of Mother's Day altogether or throw it in as a quick mention. In an attempt to not injure the hearts of anyone, we retreat with our tails between our legs and our hands in the air all the while telling ourselves, “It’s for the best”. It's disappointing to me that as the church we can't seem to find a way to honor moms without scratching at the scab for others.

Now that I am approaching 32 and still single (read: not a mother), it makes me think of Mother’s Day a little differently. While I’m excited to be a mom someday, the tick-tock of my clock is certainly not loud enough currently to warrant any kind of an alarm (although I'd be lying if I said I was a stoic observer of the child dedications this morning at church). However, I realize I am a witness to a ton of amazing mothering. When I grew up, I had my mom – who was fabulous, and now I see my dear friends and family with children of their own and it’s pure joy to watch mothers be mothers. Another thing that I’ve begun to realize is, I have mothering skills too. It’s almost as if I get to fly in and be all the fun parts of mommy-ing without the disciplinary, not-so-glamorous and fun parts.


God our Mother?

Yes. And before you go all The Shack theology crazy on me, hear me out.

Isaiah 66:13 says, “As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted in Jerusalem.”


Isaiah (as a prophet of God) uses the metaphor of comforting people like a mother. God knows how to comfort in a compassionate, all-encompassing, warm chocolate chip cookies and cold milk, kiss your scraped knee and apply a Care Bear band-aid way. He invented it. I know y'all might think Eve was the first mom, but where do you think she learned? C'mon! That means if we don’t have a mother or didn’t grow up with a mother like that, we have God.


What this also says to me, is that whether you are a mother or not, you can develop motherly traits. If we are made in God’s image, we should be living out His attributes. I doubt God wants us to compartmentalize mothering to those strictly in the mother role. That would be stifling greatness and He doesn’t do that, we do that. Plus, there are people out there who aren't being great mothers. Get it? It's not a role, it's a trait - and a gift.

So, if you are a great mom, we love you! THANK YOU for being a living example of God. Comfort and mother like you do. We need to boldly and sincerely celebrate mothers all year - not just on the second Sunday in May. And if you are aching to be a mother or have a mother that isn’t worthy of celebration, I apologize on behalf of the church and Hallmark for making your pain grow exponentially this time of year. My prayer is that you can think about the God who is your Mother. And Be the mother others need. You don’t have to be a birth mother to be a motherly presence in someone’s life.


p.s. Mom, thanks for the cookies and Care Bear band-aids. I love you.

Disappointment can be a four-letter word

Disappointment has four syllables yet it conjures responses consisting of one-syllable, four-letter words. It's frustrating, exhausting, cyclical, and painful. You feel like you've been had. You're the butt of some cosmic joke - except you don't get it. It's not even remotely funny.

Disappointment occurs when expectation and reality converge in a tangled mess of hurt. You've built something up in your head to be a certain way and when reality hits, it's more like a tidal wave than an ocean breeze. It knocks you off your feet and sends you reeling. I embarrassingly confess that I am a fairy tale type of person. I love stories. I love when the hero suddenly throws a punch at the villain unexpectedly right at the end when all hope had been lost. I hold firmly to that expectation that somehow good will prevail. My heart's desire will be fulfilled. After years and years of disappointment and unfulfilled expectations, I still am that girl...waiting, hoping, dreaming, believing.

So, should I tell myself to listen to history? To survey the tell-tale signs of the past only to give up and lower my expectations? Would I somehow be happier if I was pleasantly surprised when situations turned out well? or when people turned out to be better than who I thought they were? I don't want to live in a world like that. I don't want to think less of people just so when they rise to their true worth, I am stunned and amazed. I want to believe in more than that. I want to believe that God has more for us than low expectations.

As an almost therapist, I know that unmet expectations spell disaster for relationship. And while these words ring in my academic heart and I know how it plays out in interpersonal relationships, I hear another voice calling me to believe in something bigger. I choose to believe that people are better than their circumstances, better than their actions, better than maybe they even believe.

I think I'd rather take decades and decades of disappointment than a lifetime of low expectations, but you may hear some four-letter words come out of my mouth in that time waiting and dreaming and hoping.

Giving Thanks?

It's that time of the year when the marquee reads "Thanksgiving" and our hearts are encouraged to reflect on thankfulness. But can it be more than a directive? Can it be more than just a short burst of a holiday so easily overshadowed by parades, football games, and super savings with doorbuster deals? Please tell me it's more than the ringing of the ceremonial gong indicating the start of the holiday shopping season.

So what about the very first Thanksgiving? Images of Pilgrims and Indians sitting around a table of turkey and corn fill my head (well, that and a hand traced with crayon and colored to look like a turkey). What really happened and why do we set aside this one day and call it "Thanksgiving"? Arguably, the Cliff's Notes version sums up the new Pilgrims experience struggling to settle in Massachusetts and unable to make it through a tough season. The Indians saved the Pilgrims from starvation and showed them how to hunt, fish, and harvest food in America (hence, the picturesque scene around the table). The Pilgrims had nothing. Their basic needs were not being met.


I recently heard a phrase that went something like this: when your needs are high, your wants are low. If I need a glass a water like I need my breath, I probably won't be scouring the internet for that great new pair of boots. If I didn't have warm clothing in a MN winter, I wouldn't care if my jacket and hat clashed. Is the converse true? If our basic needs are met, do we always want more? How can we change our attitudes? How can we, those who live in a "land of plenty", choose to not want more? How can we be thankful for what we have and seek justice for those in need?

Luke 12:27-31 says, “Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it. For the pagan world runs after all such things, and your Father knows that you need them. But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well."

I am thankful that God knows my needs and I want to develop an attitude that can be grateful without wanting. Content without looking forward to the promise of more. Trusting without meddling in His plans. And blessed without neglecting the needs of others.

Christian Celebrity?

In approximately 6 days I will technically be in the same room with the Donald Miller. Now, I recognize that for most people the mention of that name causes you to scratch your head in confusion and say to yourself, "Who?". That's because he is a Christian Celebrity. What does that even mean? The fact that I'm attempting to strategize my potential meeting with Mr. Miller six days in advance (which is totally warranted if you know me at all and my cheesiness) caused me to think about this whole concept of Christian Celebrity and why it even exists.

We tend to admire people who are saying the "next great thing". They've cornered the market on the next kitchy phrase or cool way of doing things or articulating faith. I wonder what dude coined the phrase WWJD? That gave him mileage for a few years in the 90's. I can hear it now, "Yeah, my neighbor is the guy who made up WWJD!". Ick! Even though it makes me want to vomit, I must admit the Christian Celebrity bug has bit me more than once. A few years ago when I was in youth ministry I was attending a National Youth Workers Convention. It was around the time when Shane Claiborne's book, Irresistible Revolution, was gaining momentum. I can remember bragging to my friends that I brushed passed his homemade hemp shirt on the way to the trade show floor. I think I could even smell his dreads. Really, Dana? You're gonna brag about that? He's just a dude. A pastor friend of mine has a man-crush on Robbie Seay and before you say man-crush?, just take some time to silently admit that you know what that is. We brought the Robbie Seay Band in for a free concert a few years ago that spawned a ministry of people giving themselves away (see Robbie Seay Band's song, "Give Yourself Away"). I watched as my pastor friend almost tripped over himself to get Robbie whatever he needed and smiled incessantly almost as if he couldn't believe Robbie was actually at our church.

But as much as I can retell these stories with sarcasm, here I am, doing the same thing with Donald Miller. I am actually trying to plan how I can say, "Hi" to him without seeming like a cheesy, ridiculous fan who mutters in a nasal voice, "Will you sign my book?". What is it about Christian Celebrities? What do we want that we think they have? What makes a Christian Celebrity? Have you made your pastor one? or maybe your worship pastor? What happens to God when we turn his people into celebrities?

p.s. I would totally brag if I ever grabbed a beer with N.T. Wright.

Welcome to the rest of your life?

I realize I have taken an extended hiatus from writing in my "oh so eloquent" blog. That phrase actually doesn't even make sense. How can something called a "blog" be eloquent? It sounds messy. It sounds unpolished and unrehearsed and unrefined. Not unlike how I feel these days. Let me explain...

I am just about to enter my third month of my practicum for my Marriage and Family Therapy masters degree. When I began this journey a little over three years ago, I was unrecognizable from the woman you'd meet today. The funny thing is, I thought I liked who I was. I thought I was fine. The last three years have completely broken me down and built me back up, or rather begun the process of building me back up. I couldn't have dreamed what this process what look like and how much I'd learn about people and systems and mental illnesses sure, but...about me. That is what really happened. Along the way God gave me the gift of discovering who I am. Let me be the first to say, it's scary, it's lonely, it's painful, but it's so worth it.

My previous posts seem to have a theme running through them. I like to tie them up with some cheesy bow that creatively utilizes a metaphor of how God loves us, works for the good, etc. The truth is, that is not how real life is. We are incomplete messes. In our mess God still says, "I want to be in relationship with you, YES YOU!" In our attempts to wear the mask we so frequently don we say, "But let me learn this lesson and pray about it and journal about it and apply it and...". God doesn't want us to be spinning our wheels in pretense. He likes us in process because that is where he gets the most glory. In our mess, He is revealed. That doesn't change the fact that we want the bow. We want the fancy overpriced metallic wrapping paper. We want to have it all figured out and be on to the next thing. Our desire to be complete and His desire to finish us is where we meet.

Where are you meeting God today? Or rather where is He meeting YOU?

I’m reading Don Miller’s new book. I feel like that in itself is a confession because I told myself I wasn’t allowed to break the binding until all my homework for the fall quarter was completed. I have one 10-page paper looming over me like an anvil from an old cartoon ready to fall and squish my head, so I thought I deserved a distraction. Whew! I feel better having confessed that and all.

Anyway, I write this because in the first few chapters Don discloses that his story isn’t interesting enough for a movie. I think most of us would agree that if our lives were displayed on a screen, there’d be a lot of dull (and embarrassing) moments. Remember, Jessica Simpson and the ill-fated Newlyweds series? She successfully achieved dull and embarrassing in one foul swoop. It’s easy to laugh at her misfortune, but if in the same situation, I might slip up and confuse chicken and tuna myself.

He also talks about narrative. His first book is written in a narrative, essay form. The moviemakers discuss how narrative isn’t engaging for an audience. They can’t get inside your head. They quickly lose interest when they can’t engage. It made me think about my narrative. I don’t know about you, but the voice inside my head is my most cherished companion. It laughs with me when I see an arrogant, toolbox of a guy trip on his ego. She helps me get rid of the red hue that sprays across my cheeks when what I intended to say and the actual words crash in a destructive mess of words and subsequent hand motions. She rehearses the important deliveries and pumps me up when I need an extra dose of courage. She reminds me that although my thighs are not as small as the girl working out in front of me, I am here working out and not sitting on the couch at home investing my evening into a sea of Ben and Jerry’s. She helps me to rationalize situations that would cause me to react poorly. She helps me make it through tough encounters with people I don’t want to see. She rolls her eyes internally so I can restrain myself from being impolite on a blind date. She prays deeply and loves freely. She is vulnerable. She cries when she hears songs that tell a story. She’s great. But I think the moviemakers are right. The audience doesn’t get to see all that. That comes when you are in relationship with someone. You can’t expect to know all there is to know about someone from a movie, or even a book or a blog. I think the gift of relationship is meeting their narrative and becoming part of their story.

I’m only a few chapters in…Dangit Don!

Lessons from the Apple Store

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to travel to Asia and before you think this post is about my wonderful adventure, let me say, I will save that for another date. Today’s story is however about something that occurred while jaunting halfway around the world. A friend had used my MacBook to access something via her thumb drive and my hard drive crashed...well, twenty minutes later it crashed. Coincidence? I think not. For any of you mac users, when you see the faint light grey file folder with a question mark blinking at you, you know how this feels. It reminds me of the coon dog that would enter the foreground of the screen during old school “Duck Hunt” from the original Ninetendo. It pops up and laughs at you and shakes up and down a little as if its laughter at your failure is causing it to convulse rhythmically. I would always try and shoot the dog to stop its berating of my hunting skills once and for all, but alas the gun only worked on the poor ducks. In other words, you feel like you are the butt of a huge practical joke. Like someone or something is laughing at you saying, “Ha! Your stuff? It’s gone! Sucks to be YOU!”

I didn’t have time to mourn the loss of my laptop while on the trip, but as soon as I returned home, the reality of what happened hit me like a ton of bricks. Questions circled about. “What will I do for school when I start classes again this fall? How can I afford to fix it or buy a new one? Are you supposed to keep graduate school papers for anything important? How many pictures did I have on iPhoto? What kind of small fortune did I drop on iTunes in three years?”

Craptastic!

I was able to grieve the loss of my papers quite quickly in almost as much time as it took to write them (don’t tell my professors), but when I started to think about the pictures and the iTunes, my heart began to sink.

Off to the Mall of America Apple Store where in a miracle of sorts the manager honored my expired extended warranty (that I forgot I had purchased once upon a time) and installed a brand new hard drive for free ($800 value, gasp!).

As I went to pick it up the next day, I was explaining my plight to a cute, little Apple Store associate not quite nineteen years of age. As she returned from retrieving my computer in the back, she handed it to me and said, “Well, you could look at it as cathartic!” Now aside from the fact that lil’ miss Apple probably just learned the word ‘cathartic’ the previous year in her freshman ‘Intro to Theatre’ class, it made me think – “Maybe she had a point”. My entire hard drive was wiped clean. Everything good and bad, gone. A fresh start. A new hard drive with no mark of my history of my struggles or memories I’d like to erase. Hmm…

Now, to be honest the three years I’d owned that hard drive had been riddled with some crazy memories. Most of which have been deleted. But, you can never completely delete things off your hard drive, right? CSI could probably locate those bad memories in two minutes flat. So, yeah, I like this new hard drive. Cathartic indeed! But then I start to think about the memories that I would never, ever want to delete - Pictures of my nephews growing up, years I spent in CA as a youth director with students I love, goofy photo shoots with forever friends, secret songs I got from ordering Matt Wertz’s latest album early!!!!!

I think what it comes down to is you can never erase just a part of who you are. The good comes with the bad. It makes up who we are. Even though I have painful memories that make me nauseous to think about, I love who I am today and I know that those painful days played an intrinsic part in making the “today me” happen. I think about the many photos I lost and how many I had uploaded to facebook (oh, thank goodness for facebook). But, isn’t true that you only upload the best to facebook. You don’t upload the photos where someone blinked, or when someone is cracking up because someone said something funny or farted right before the shot. You edit life a little for facebook and that’s what I missing. So, as thankful as I am to have a new hard drive for free (plug MOA Apple Store once again), I would rather have an unedited version of me and my memories. I’m learning that the journey isn’t worth deleting no matter how silly or painful it is and that the destination is just another starting point.