Puddles and Rock Stars

We all have role models in many areas of our life. For example my husband has a major man-crush on Chef Bobby Flay. He loves Bobby Flay and believes he himself should be in an outdoor kitchen cooking fifty dollar steaks on a grill bigger than our queen size bed. Bobby Flay is a definite foodie role model for him. As for me, I just shut up and count myself lucky to have a husband who drools over high end kitchen appliances and dreams of being a master of southwestern inspired cooking and all things grill related.

Our role models are generally rock stars, both literally and figuratively speaking, and hopefully we all have role models that are not just on the celebrity scene but that we know in everyday life. And if you are a Christian you likely have rock stars of the faith. These people seem to ooze with spiritual discipline and are rarely seen in church without their hands raised in worship. They are full of encouraging words and when these people say that they will pray for you, you know they actually do it. Also, at least 72% of their tweets and facebook updates are probably scripture verses. Serious spiritual rock stars.

Now I am taking this to the extreme, I sincerely hope that the people you look up to as role models in your spiritual walk are salt of the earth friends who are real with you. Who you can share a cup of coffee with, and if you stub your toe in front of them and release the inevitable eruption of choice and inappropriate words, they have no judgment. God is gracious, and toes are very tender.

However, one thing that I have learned recently about role models is that we as Christians tend to believe that we need to be in really healthy, marathon runner shape faith-wise to be the type of teachers and role models the church needs. This is a huge error on our part, the people of God need role models and references for all seasons, not just the shimmery summery ones.

I will throw myself in the mix, I have been climbing mountains lately. Most days have seemed like an uphill battle, and going to work and church where I am called to be a leader of students and peers has seemed like a joke to me. I kept my head low at church, and often tried very hard not to make eye contact with anyone. I didn’t want to set off the “not okay” alarm, even though when people asked me how I was I tried to answer with honestly or at least a vague answer like “eh” or “I’m alright.” I thought that I was in no shape to lead or model to anyone. I was a puddle on the floor, deeply hurt and searching for my bearings in the storm.

It took me a few months to realize something. There is a stigma among some that deep hurts should heal quickly. I’ve learned a lot of people feel truly uncomfortable with long term grieving because they haven’t been there and they want to believe that no matter what happens you can get over it in a few weeks. Lately, however, God has been teaching me that his people need to be modeling real life, yes even the messy parts. If the only role models we see are the ones who are in sunny stages of life, we leave people to navigate the stormy seasons from scratch, without the example of those who have gone before. God can use everything right? So this only leaves me to believe that he can and wants to use my current life stage to help other people too.

God wants to use pain as it is happening, not only after it has healed completely. The people who are watching you need to you to model what it looks like to cling to God like a life preserver. To not answer the “how are you?” question with “good” if that’s not where you are. You aren’t letting him use every season of your life if you hide away and pretend. I am not encouraging you to live in despair and depression forever when something hard happens in your life. But when tough seasons come, and you are still living for God when you are beat down, healing and trying to find your feet, it’s okay. We need to have people that are real with the fact that some things in life take a year or more to recover from. Psychologists will tell you that healthy grief takes a good solid year or more.

So next time you see someone at church who buried a parent, or a spouse and still cries in worship 7 months out, know that they are modeling what it looks like to truly be faithful and strong. They are crying, but they are there, they aren’t walking away or backing down from a fight. People who are honest about the hard parts of life shouldn’t make us squirm so much, but should give us hope that when we go through that, even though it will take a while, we can keep walking, keep singing, and keep showing up. God needs puddles and rock stars to round out his teaching roster.

The New Normal

Right now I am camped out in the valley, life isn't okay right now, what I am journeying through is a journey consisting of miles, different states, maybe even countries. I am not going to arrive at any sort of all better place in the next week or so. Now, what does this mean?

It means that I have a hard time being in large groups, I feel small and without skin. What I have on my mind doesn't always lend itself to an atmosphere of mirth. It means that a lot of times I would rather be home, in an environment that quite generally I know and can control. My entire life feels out of control but the walls, floors, furniture and fridge contents of my house I am generally pretty comfortable with. For now at least it means I don't want to put on make up. It may have something to do with the fear of crying off all the mascara. Or perhaps it has to do with the fact that I don't want to pretend to be at a spot of "all good" and for me eye shadow and eye liner flies in the face of how I feel.

This also means that I welcome the company of people who understand the space and time it takes to heal from a loss like this. I relish and savor a conversation about having Faith in the tough spots. I want to surround myself with people who understand that in things like this, God isn't up in heaven teaching me a lesson. He is down on my level holding me and his heart is breaking in sync with mine. Small theology that consists of only rainbows and sunshine are not helpful right now, although I have a grace for all who try to help, comments can certainly be made that are harsh in their simplicity. So I am guarded with who I go to the deeper darker places with, but I am not bottling, I do go there with friends.

I also need to make myself aware that while I will move through this, I cannot go back to the way it was before. The way it was before is simply not an option anymore. I will keep living, keep savoring the moments, keep choosing to see the joy in my life. But I don't have the luxury of being "before me" ever again. I only get to be "after me." This is one of those events on the time line of my life that can be used as a reference point. There are things that happened before this, and things that happened after this. I am now living in the after. And I am okay with it. I could be angry, and demand that life go back to the way it was before. I certainly want that, but in 28 years of living within the boundaries of space and time I am painfully aware that I cannot. I cannot go back to the night my Mom died and talk her out of it. I cannot go back and change the events that led to this pain. I can simply heal, and keep living.

So thank you, for having grace for me, for giving me time to be in the valley. Such a loss merits valley time, and there is no prescribed limit on it. I see myself picking up my tent in stages and moving it out of the shadows slowly.

Me and 5 AM

Over the last few weeks Baby Barney, which is our code name for our son on the way, and I have reached a new level of closeness. I have gone from merely acceptance of him and A) his impending arrival into our home and B) The fact that he is male, to loving him and his unborn potential. You may think it is ridiculous that these things took me 20 weeks to adjust to, but this isn't your life, your pregnancy or your blog, so I am finding great joy and excitement in falling for him now, and I'm not looking back.

This new found love for Baby B has, I must confess, been made a bit more challenging by the rapidly decreasing amount of sleep he allows me to have. At 23.3 weeks pregnant I feel that going to bed at ten should reasonably involve waking up twice to pee, once at 2:30 and once at 5:00 and then falling back into bed and hitting REM in 45 seconds. However I am up once before midnight and at least four more times before I decide around 5:30 AM that it's just time to get up and start the coffee. Now I love the sunrise and the random cock a doodle doo of our neighbors rooster, on occasion. However I would prefer to see no more of either of them until January thank you very much.

Then this morning I had another thought. I have, in fact, been incredibly and shamefully absent in my time with God in the morning. By absent I mean, he shows up, I stay in bed, on the couch, or in the kitchen working on last nights dishes. Last nights dishes are truly a poor exchange for time with God I can assure you. So because it's too late for today, tomorrow I will be trying something new. I will set my alarm for 6:15 and have the coffee maker pre-programmed for 6:00. I will get up before Noelle and give God my first time. You see my thought this morning was that maybe God was stirring me far to early in order to force me to the living room, bible and coffee in hand. So maybe, just maybe, if I come more willingly he might be persuaded to help me sleep until the alarm goes off. And that would be blissful on every level.