coffee date

View from my front door.  If there was sound you would hear a rooster crowing.  

I am a morning person, I love coffee and breakfast food.  I love the sunrise and the cool breeze that wafts in from the window. As long as I have about 6 hours of sleep under my belt, I'm fine with getting up.  My husband hates the morning and even though morning comes every day, it always seems to hit him like a nasty surprise.  This has been a source of tension in our marriage.  I expected a coffee date every morning with the man I love and instead I usually get a grumpy guy squinting and grumbling around the house in his boxers.  Ah well, such is life.  


It wasn't until this year that I got the coffee date buddy I wanted, and I only realized it this very morning.  Every morning I share a cup of coffee with my two year old daughter, Noelle.  Every morning when I help her out of her toddler bed she hugs me with an enthusiastic "Good morning!"  After the coffee is made, I pour myself a cup and then I heat up a bit of milk in a sippy cup and top it off with a couple tablespoons of coffee for her.  And this is my unexpected coffee partner.  I always thought my morning date would take place over two mugs, but it turns out that for now, it's a mug and a sippy cup.  

The remnants of my morning coffee date.

Even though we often part ways after we receive our java (she watches mickey on the couch and I usually sit down at the table to write before the boys get up) there is a camaraderie that links us across the room.  She is the coffee date I always wanted, and every morning I try to make her feel wanted and seen.  Even at the age of two we all long to connect, and since she isn't able to connect on my level, I have to get down and connect with her on hers.  


Pretty much any time I reflect on mothering, I drift back to my own Mom.  Who doesn't?   Our relationship was usually pretty hard.  For starters, I am energy incarnate.  I don't' stop moving from the time I leave bed until the time I crawl back in.  I have always been this way, I played so hard I often fell asleep face down in spaghetti in my highchair.  My daughter is a lot the same way.  


My energy was a source of frustration for my Mom, because she was coping with mental illness and I pushed her buttons and ran her down with my willfulness.  Growing up I often felt all- wrong, like a mistake or a problem.  I was taken to a lot of doctors and put on a lot of pills from the age of three until the age of 18.  For along time I felt like they were trying to fix me but that they couldn't because I was too screwed up.  My mom made some mistakes, but in hindsight I  give her grace, mostly because being angry with her now solves nothing.  However, this insight does serve as a reminder of how I want to respond to my own little energetic girl, who just came over to steal sips of my coffee after she drained her own.  She also is refusing to eat the overnight fig-raisin steel-cut oatmeal I made us.  Sad.  


Everyone wants to feel important, seen and loved and so I try to respond like that to my daughter.  Even when she asks the same question ten times in a row I respond to most of her chatter, because I remember how awful it is to feel like an annoyance every time you open your mouth.  I am not a perfect mom, I screw up every day, I promise.  I am not always intentional and I am not always patient.  Some days I feel like all that is keeping me going is the hope of a glass of wine after they fall asleep.  But I love my children, and I want them to feel cherished.  I know that they will have moments of self doubt, but I want to do all I can to communicate to them that I love who God created them to be, even if some days it flat out exhausts me.  


So most mornings Noelle and I drink coffee and watch Mickey Mouse.  We build a lot of block towers and we bake pretend cakes.  We race across the backyard and draw endless shapes on the patio.  Right now she is running around with a clothespin in her mouth.  I should probably go put a stop to that.  So in closing, I hope that you are able to see the people in your life as the beautiful gifts they are, even when they drain you dry.  God is the source that will quench your thirst, and he typically only gives you enough to do one day, it keeps you coming back.  He's brilliant that way.  


We all have pain from our past, but instead of carrying it around with you, forgive.  And use it to influence the choices you make today.  What is something from your past you can unload from your backpack.  Haul it out and leave it this morning, then use the memory of it to change the way you move forward.  

PS I Love You & Paul

The other night I found myself in an exhausted heap on the couch watching PS I Love You.  Nothing in my life has every worn me out like being the primary care-giver for a 2 year old and an 8 month old.  I am tired to the bone every night and I often find my rest in books, movies, ice cream and the occasional generous glass of wine.  Last night I popped in PS I Love You for the 874th time because I love it and it called to me from my DVD collection. 

I have had a love for Kathy Bates since I was about ten, and this movie is no exception.  If you haven't seen the movie it centers around Holly, a very young widow who is searching for healing and wholeness after losing her husband to brain cancer.  Her mother is a hard-knocks bar owner and has been doing the single parent thing for years since her own husband left her.  She isn't cuddly or soft in any way and when she talks it's always to give advice or speak her mind.  She loves her daughter, but as you watch the movie you get the feeling that years of fighting life have made her tough and taken away any softness she started with.

Around every corner of the film I found myself enthralled with her character and totally jealous.  For one Kathy Bates looks a lot like my Mom to me, and for two I would have given anything to have a hard knocks, wise mom spurring me on and speaking her mind.  For my entire twenties my Mom was so far gone to depression we didn't really have any conversations of substance.  I ached to be able to speak to the woman I knew that she was behind her illness and pain.  She was the star of the school play and a cheerleader, they all tell me she was so bright and fun, but I never got to see it.


I long for something very simple in my life, to have my parents back.  To have a dad coming over to fix the sink or a Mom giving me more advice that I care for on trivial stuff like cooking or kids.  I hate the big Mom and Dad shaped holes in my life.  And sometimes the sheer size of them sucker punches me to the ground.  And I curl up in a ball, and it sucks so bad.  A lot of days I find contentment with it, but some days I just can't.  


Check out Philippians 4:11 - 14

11 I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength. 14 Yet it was good of you to share in my troubles

So this is written by a guy named Paul, a rock star of a man who traversed the known world and told a million or so people about Jesus.  He did all this while being starved, imprisoned, shipwrecked, and flogged within an inch of his life.  And yet he was content.  


Think about the very legitimate things we struggle with and ask for prayer on.  Broken relationships, loss, abuse, neglect, divorce and illness.  For me, I struggle with death.  I miss my parents for who they were and who they could have been.  I am in the process of finding contentment with my life but I still have moments of sharp jealously.  I get lumps in my throat, I cry big fat tears.  When I see grandparents holding brand new babies:  jealous.  When I get a call from a friend and her dad is there fixing her sink: jealous.  Honestly, anytime I hear a friend use the words "Mom and Dad" in reference to their parents it seems strange to me.  I don't use those words much anymore.  It's weird I know, but it is where I live.  And I am learning to find contentment in it, even though it sucks and it doesn't seem fair.  


What are the things you are praying and longing to have?  Like me, your prayers and longings may seem normal and natural.  So why do we have to be content with gaping holes in our lives?


I don't know why we have our specific holes and gaps, but we do.  And if you look around you'll find many people with gaping holes.  Maybe not the same ones as you, but so many of us have them.  


I am jealous of parents and I want my Dad back and I want to go on a walk and get unsolicited advice from a mom like Kathy Bates.  


I don't know where you are in your journey today.  But I can tell you that I know what its like to hear about the idea of contentment in the midst of immense pain and to scoff and get pissed.  How dare God call me to be okay with this crap?    I've been there, asking Paul where he gets off even suggesting such a concept. I can't make it all better for you, but I can tell you contentment comes with time and I can assure you that it is so normal to long for something natural you are missing out on.


I can also promise you that God fills the gaps in time.  Through beautiful people and lovely moments of healing.  His healing is a miracle every time.  So just take one step toward contentment today, that's all you have to do.  Don't hold on to your anger for dear life.  It's okay to have it for now, but you don't want to buy it a collar and turn it into your pet.  It'll just bite people who ring your doorbell and pee all over everything, metaphorically speaking.  


Paul didn't have food, a wife, kids, a home or a functioning body.  And tons of people spent their lives trying to kill him.  So he has room to talk.  Just saying.  


Contentment is a battle worth fighting.  To be honest, your life depends on it.  Please contact me if I can help you on your battle.


Those are my thoughts, a penny for yours?  

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.

golden calves

So Kel and I are trying to read the bible in 90 days. And its intense. And we are behind. I always seem to start reading plans and then get stuck in Exodus or Leviticus and give up. So I reread Genesis thru Leviticus or so every time. I'm interested in seeing how the bible ends one of these times. I hope we win.

So today in Exodus, I was reading about Moses up on the mountain hearing from God about how things needed to be run in Israelite life pertaining to the ten commandments and the Tabernacle. And from what I understand he was up there a rather long time, about five and half weeks. And during this time the people got antsy, and bored waiting to see what God had in store for them. So they took the next logical step and built some golden calves. Like you do. And God was so pissed off that he wanted to end them. Moses had to talk him out of it and still God withdrew his presence from them so he wouldn't essentially end them by proximity.

Every time I reread Exodus, (which as mentioned above it all the time) I always try to put myself in a place of humility when it comes to the Israelites. No holier than thou attitude here, I make all the dumb moves they did, and some new ones that they hadn't invented yet. So back to the story, they couldn't wait on God to speak for five and a half weeks so they distracted themselves with other gods. And then threw crazy drunken parties to honor their new bovine buddies.

So I am an impatient person and prone to drama and distraction. I do not like waiting on God for big life direction at all, and if a big decision is taking too long I try to force it, my way. I mean our modern culture has us so preprogrammed against patience and waiting that I am surprised the word still exists. Everything is available next to now. Patience I am finding is a lost virtue, dying quickly and in need of revival.

So I was thinking about what my Golden calves may be, what needless and stupid things do I distract myself with when I grow impatient waiting on the Lord? I can tend to jump to conclusions and then work within those conclusions as if they were absolute reality. I also have a small golden calf of what if and worry. I like to paint for myself and my friends all sorts of potential end game scenarios and then build them up to be large and likely outcomes. Either way I busy myself fretting, dramatizing, what-iffing, and eating ice cream. None of which could be adequately described as waiting on the Lord.

Thankfully the story of the Israelites is one of constant death and redemption. And I don't have to live out their exact story line. My story can veer, and it does veer.

And then Moses said

Exodus 33:13 If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you. Remember that this nation is your people.” 14 The Lord replied, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

And so tonight I think I'll just pray that, and call it good.