A Brighter Day

 One of the perks of being a one on the enneagram scale is that when I decide to do something, I plan it out and it gets done. Lists are my friends, spreadsheets my loyal companions. I have been called a lot of things in life, but the word that tends to come up a LOT is the very unromantic descriptor "responsible." In movies, my character tends to throw off all inhibitions by the end and do something reckless that manages to transform her life for the better, but that's just Hollywood's spin on learning how to be yourself. In real life, I am definitely learning spontaneity in ways I never would have imagined before I turned 40, but not at the expense of my good traits - as a complement to them. 

That said, I have had the song Brighter Day in my head for a few days now. If you don't know it, it's an old school Kirk Franklin song playing off an even older school Bill Withers song has a catchy refrain that goes "it's gonna be a brighter day, brighter day, brighter day, a bright-er day!" (Go ahead and take a little dance break if you need it, I'll love you even more for it.)

And as it's been tooling around in my head, I have been pondering just how insane the last six months have been. So much uncertainty. So many unknowns. So MUCH togetherness in the family home. So many days that do not feel any brighter than the one before. It's been truly difficult for so many of us, adults and kids alike, to have so little of life be familiar or plannable. And for those of us with kids who may now be planning to guide them through at-home virtual learning and IEP's and homeschooling, it's so easy to be focused on what we are doing to keep the family functioning, to help our kids' mental health as we transition into yet another unknown, and for many, uninspiring, reality. 

It is so very easy to feel like we are in the dark. To feel sad. To feel angry or hopeless. And it's so very easy to neglect ourselves when so many around us need so much to stay stable. 

I've mentioned before my struggle with PMDD. After a few years of trying more conventional methods to treat it, I stumbled upon a book by Dr. Jolene Brighten called Beyond the Pill. As the pill is the most commonly used way to treat it but as someone who does not enjoy its unhelpful side effects, I was eager to hear if there were alternatives. I read the book immediately (another thing us ones are good at), developed a plan of action and took it to my doctor. I refrained from boring her with a powerpoint presentation about why I should go off the pill and try it, but I was sorely tempted. Thankfully, she was on board with the protocol as it was rooted in nutrtion, exercise and rest (woohoo, science!) and the next day I was busy buying supplements and making schedules. 

Oh the sweet joys of a freshly minted calendar and plan! Within a week, I was happily ensconced in the challenges of lifestyle changes that I knew could make a significant impact on my health. 

One year later, I have seen amazing success when I have stuck to it. I have learned about my body in new and amazing ways. I have a deep and newfound respect for my adrenal gland in all it's glory and power. And as I sit on the cusp of all these changes for my family, I have been reminded anew that I need to get back on this protocol with a new focus. It fell to the wayside when all my kids ended up home from school in March. It was just too much to keep up with three super-energetic boys (one with significant challenges himself) AND the protocol. It was survival mode.

But I can't abide living in survival mode for too long. I want a brighter day. 

I know, it feels like the last thing most of us need, to add something to our life, our schedule. But I know for some of us, this has been such a hard time of sacrifice that we are in danger of losing ourselves, our health, our sanity, to this pandemic. Stress deeply affects us as women. Our hormones respond in ways that make us feel absolutely insane sometimes. 

So today, I picked the book back up while my littles swam at the pool. (and yes, I paused and issued a prayer of gratitude that at the ages of five and six, I can trust them to swim without me in the water, may God bless swim team and all the saints in heaven.) I turned to the chapter with the quiz that helps you isolate what's going on in your body. And lo and behold, my answers had changed after a year. What I had focused on over the past year was doing so well that it is time for me to move on to focus on a different area of health. Adrenal glands check, now we conquer the ovaries :) 

Am I oversharing? Quite likely. 

But I have learned as I hit my late 30's and now have moved into my 40's that we women need to talk about this stuff - hormones and sex drive and body image and reproductive health.That so much of how we grow up talking about these things and learning about them ends up steeped in shame and secrecy and that is NOT any way to be living our lives in connection to this beautiful vessel, our bodies, in which we travel through life. 

So, if you have STUFF going on with your parts. If you don't love the way you feel, if you are struggling with body image or health issues or PMDD or PCOS or menopause (can I get a witness on how MANY fans I now need on in my room at night?), I'd like to issue you a friendly challenge. 

THINK ABOUT YOU.

Seriously. Think. Do you want to feel better? Do you want to be a healthier version of the already beautiful you? Are you tired of people promising quick fixes and just want to make some lasting changes in your life that take a shot at it being a brighter day?

I may not be great at empathy or helping us figure out our emotions, but heck am I good at accountability and dreams! 

So in a moment of spontaneity, BEFORE I have made any lists or plans on what it would look like, I'm diving in.

I'm going to reboot my journey with Brighten because I know it worked for me and I know I need to concentrate on my health as I move into a new phase of helping my kids learn at home. I am not selling anything, nor am I an expert. If no one wants to join me, I'm doing it anyway, because I'm also a raging introvert and perfectly happy to do something alone. 

BUT, if this resonates with you at all, I'd love to invite and challenge you to join me. We can do it together. It's a plan written by a doctor and based on science that involves exercise, nutrition, rest, spiritual growth and joy. 

Adding community to it can certainly only help. 

Who is in? 

After This I Looked

20,000 people standing together in a great crowd, singing without the help of guitar or drum, just voices. People from countries all over the world. From every state in the union. People who spoke English and Mandarin and Spanish and Igbo. People who were joined together, in all their beautiful differences, by their belief in a good and beautiful God.

I once stood in the midst of such a gathering.

Putting that moment into words is nearly impossible. That many voices joined as one. To be able to hear the solitary voice next to me while at the same time hearing the words "Hallelujah, salvation and glory" sung in glorious harmony by thousands of others, a song that literally shook the rafters of that colosseum, well, there are really no words.

It was a taste, just a taste, of heaven. 

And it was a taste that I know has driven much of who I have become. 

Revelation 7: 9-11 says this:

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. 10 And they cried out in a loud voice:

“Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb.”

That scripture, that perfect picture of humans, fully reconciled, fully themselves, worshiping together in harmony. Not in one assimilated "heavenly" language. Not as ethereal whitish beings floating around. But as God's glorious creation, without hatred, beautiful in their outward differences, free from division, worshiping as one.

That picture is beauty my friends. 

And that scriptural picture is one I hold tightly side by side with my shining earth-bound moment of tasting it. I let it drive what I see and what I hope for. I let it color my conversations and anchor my faith. I learned at some point to pray the Lord's Prayer often and fervently. To pray it as more than a discipline, but as a declaration. The calling down of God's presence here on earth. Saying over and over again "on earth as it is in heaven" and believing that even though we know the world will always be broken, that God is active and loving and calling us into the work of hope and action that believes we can see the beauty of heaven in the everyday. 

For the last three months, I have been privileged to co-lead a group that is trying, in our tiny little corner of Virginia, to be a part of inviting God's will for reconciliation and diversity into our church. 

For three months, we have studied the scriptures and talked about justice and oppression and hope. For three months we have talked about slavery and the Native American Genocide, about power, about Black Lives Matters and police brutality, about unfair housing practices and redlining and whitewashed school curricula and segregation and white supremacy. We have talked about awareness and self-education and lament and repentance and forgiveness. We have shared our own experiences of race in America and in the church. There has been anger and defensiveness and tears and frustration and guilt. And sometimes, yes, even joy and laughter.

It has NOT been easy. 

Why? 

Because it is not supposed to be easy. 

in his book "Coming Together: The Bible's Message in an Age of Diversity" Curtiss DeYoung says this says this:

"Systems of injustice in society and in the church exact a heavy cost on those outside the centers of power and effectively block reconciliation" and "declaring that we are equal without repairing the wrongs of the past is cheap reconciliation."

The true work of reconciliation is deep, hard, soul-wrenching work. 

We could have sat around and declared our equality in God's sight and charged forward together singing Kum-Ba-Yah. But that is what churches have done over and over again and change never happens. It's cheap reconciliation that is not founded on repentance and hope. It's cheap reconciliation that seeks action without personal and communal repentance. 

We wanted better for our church. For our tiny little piece of heaven on earth. Our emotions in this process don't scare God. The Be the Bridge curriculum we have used says that the "ultimate aim of reconciliation is the restoration of broken relationships, whether between individuals or entire communities. True reconciliation requires commitment and sacrifice from both sides." 

As anyone knows, the work of restoring relationships is some of the hardest work we are ever called to do. It can be painful. It can require us to work through anger and bitterness. It usually invites us to lay ourselves down for one another. That is messy, gospel work.

So here we are: 

Men and women (with a few precious faces missing) who participated

Black and white. Men and women. American-born and internationals. Northerners and southerners. Republicans and Democrats and Independents.

Falling at the throne of God together to ask for deep grace and forgiveness. Admitting the ways we have not known. The ways we have failed to act. The ways we have chosen comfort over risk. And clinging to the hope and beauty of the cross together as we do it. 

We want more. More for our church. Our neighborhoods. Our schools. Our nation. 

And so we will continue to meet. We'll talk about reparations and restoration. We'll dig into the continual and cyclical process of awareness, acknowledgment, lament, repentance and forgiveness.

And we will do it together, messily and unashamedly and in ways that will bring healing and positive changes to the world around us.

Because that, my friends, is what the church does.

Keeping Pace

My feet pounded the same rhythm as hers did while the exhilarating background of 80's music pumped through my earbuds. There was some kind of power in that matching of strides, some kind of challenge that was more effective than any goal I could have set. Matched strides, eyes forward, strangers next to each other, moving in the same directionless direction.

Before I knew it, two miles down. Sweat pouring down my smiling face, breaths coming fast and deep. A body that had been benched for over a month due to injury and illness suddenly full of energy, moving fast, free of pain. Movement has always been a key part of how I do life. It's absence had caused no small amount of emotional chaos.

Minutes after finishing our run, we smile at each other, gulping water.

"I was about to stop running when you jumped on," she said, "and then suddenly there was something really helpful in your pace that kept me going."

"You really pushed me and I appreciate it. I haven't been able to run in a long time. I would have stopped sooner if you weren't still going." I replied. We shared brief stories of why we had been gone from the Y and why we were back. And thanked each other for the shared challenge of our morning run.

No competition, no needing to prove ourselves. Just 20 minutes in a day that reminded us both of why we need those pace-keepers in our lives. People with similar goals, moving in the same direction, helping us push past our own limits. In running, in parenting, in faith, in marriage, in all of life.

May we treasure our pace-keepers, both the temporary gifts and those who are more permanent fixtures in our lives, and keep on keeping on.

Fight or Flight

I really love biology. Loved it in high school and loved it again when I took it at UW just a few short years ago. Ideally, I'll end up in a field that deals with it, but right now is not the time to be too discerning about what the future holds.

I've always thought one of the most interesting aspects of animal behavior is the idea of fight or flight. That when presented with some kind of very real threat, we have two choices. We run from it or we do battle.

In parenthood, you kind of have to choose the second.

Before you think I sound crazy and violent, hear me out on this.

Being a parent is the first thing I have ever done that is 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Not that I ever stop being married, of course, but with a rational human adult, one can take breaks. One can ask for space. One can assume one may sleep through the night without the other one waking her up. (Well, sometimes. The early months were dicey as we figured out how to share a bed, but that's another, more comedic story.")

Once you are a parent, that's it. If your kid needs you, nothing else will do. Maybe someone will give you a night off, but you always know there is the possibility of being called home in an emergency. Maybe you'll take a weekend away with your spouse, but you are still parent. Your brain cannot move from that state of being.

So when the battles come, you have to choose fight. You have to stay in it.

Now, biologically speaking, if I were a lesser being this would probably mean punching my toddler in the face after he has just punched me in the face. Meet force with force, right? Thankfully, I have rational logic and compassion to choose a different way to fight. If I didn't, my instinct to protect myself would surely kick in. And I would fight back at a very base level. A level that would not be in my children's (or my) best interest.

But, friends. It's hard. Take someone like myself who can be easily angered and add sleep deprivation and hunger to the mix, then when my 2 year old wallops me, I really, really have to work hard not to react. Not to lash out. Not to yell or freak out. Not to put him in time out and run to google and job search immediately so I can end this stay-at-home thing asap. Not to make the whole day about the one (or ten, as the day may be) incident. Everything feels more dramatic when I am hungry and tired.

This week, as I've been preparing myself to be alone for a few weeks with the little people (with some help coming a few days here and there, lest I mislead you), I have had to work hard to not fear. To emotionally plan ahead for the witching hour and how I will handle it on my own when the baby is crying and the toddler is melting down and throwing food and my 9 year old needs someone to read his spelling words to him to practice and the dog is barking at the neighbors at the hour of the day when my energy is the lowest.

I am preparing for battle.

But, I've really wanted to prepare differently than I might have a week ago. Prepare with hope, with intention, with a "WE CAN DO THIS" attitude.

And to get there, I have got to get past this perpetual feeling of anger. Anger at my life not looking like what I imagined. Anger that I am not working and not in school. Anger at being covered in bruises. Anger at being far from family and my closest friends during this challenging season.

I came across a quote this week in a rare moment of quiet reading about how Christians should approach that which feels like it's choking us of life.

"We should run to the cross. To death. So lay down your hopes. Lay down your future. Lay down your petty annoyances. Lay down your desire to be recognized. Lay down your fussiness at your children. Lay down your perfectly clean house. Lay down your grievances about the life you are living. Lay down the imaginary life you could have by yourself. Lay them all down...Stop clinging to yourself and cling to the cross. There is more joy and more life and more laughter on the other side of death than you can possibly carry alone." (From "Mom Enough")

Ouch. And phew.

Seriously, it hurt to read it but at the same time, it was like the breath went out of me.

Clinging to myself is not the way to do battle. The only way is to enter into the battle that God himself already won.

So, as the preparations continue, as I ready our family to handle being without superdad for a few weeks, I am finding glimmers of hope, small shreds of strength, quotes that are being put on index cards and placed around the house. Any little thing that will remind me that IT WILL BE OK. And maybe more than that, IT MAY BE GOOD.

Fight or flight?

I choose fight. But I choose to fight differently.

The Upside to Novacaine

You hear people say a lot of things about root canals; mostly, how awful they are. They seem to be the benchmark against which people measure some truly awful opportunity. "I'd rather get a root canal than have to vote for Donald Trump," someone might say. I might say that, at least.

You never hear about what good they do, though.

About 24 hours ago, I had just been told by my dentist that it was possible I would lose my tooth and have to pay $4,000 for an implant.

NO. I panicked. I had just posted a blog about how much I wanted to lean into hope, how much I intended to look for it, to write every day until my husband heads out of town and then, bam.

I was really angry. I mean, sobbing, angry.

So, when the endodontist today said that, no, actually, he could save the tooth with a root canal and let's go ahead and get this thing done and get you out of pain, it was like someone was giving me a huge puppy. OK, a puppy that required a lot of novacaine and two hours in the chair, but still.

Seriously, it's all about perspective people.

Graying, toothless, 37 year-old woman with sleep-deprived bags under eyes and an anger complex, because, really, let's add a big empty socket in my mouth right now?

OR, graying 37 year-old woman with sleep-deprived bags under eyes and a hope complex.

I'll take the second, thank you very much.

And now I sit here, very gingerly sipping some warm coffee, trying to infuse myself with some energy before the little people wake up. Maybe years ago, I would have come back from hours of dental work and thrown a movie in, but now, I'll be down and dirty on the floor, playing trucks, wrestling, changing stinky diapers, having dance parties with a numb face.

And I wouldn't have it any other way. I mean, maybe it'd be nice to have an hour on the couch with a movie, but my oldest son injured his foot in PE today so HE gets the couch and the movie and an icepack and, as I promised myself I would do, I am writing. Claiming gratefulness, looking for hope.

Yes, today, friends, I am grateful for a root canal. As the pamphlet so eloquently puts it, today my diseased pulp was replaced "with a substance that will keep the tooth functional."  Sounds familiar. As I was laying in the chair, staring at the ivory ceiling, nodding along when the the doctor asked me questions, I had time to think.

This is so what God is doing right now.

He sees all this struggle, all the anger I have, the selfishness, all the ways I am way too weak to handle life on my own. He sees it, he diagnoses it. And then he drills down through my bitter exterior. He slowly, methodically, lifts out the gunk and replaces it with something that will make me function even better. He doesn't come down and rip the whole damn tooth out, leaving an empty spot and teeth that shift around and an awkward way to chew and a less than winning smile.

He saves who I am but makes it SO MUCH BETTER.

I gotta be honest, though, I do wish there was something akin to spiritual novacaine. Something that makes it feel less painful as the work is being done.

Oh, wait.

There actually is. If there was one thing I have seen, time and time again when I have found myself to be at the edge...during our miscarriage or years of infertility or waiting for our adoptions and now in the midst of an incredibly challenging phase in parenting...I have seen the people. The people who make meals. Who offer to fly out and help. Who pick up your kids so they can go play and you can nap or shower or write. Who text you things to make you laugh when you need it. Who pray.

People, friends. You guys. Spiritual novacaine.

And the upside to spiritual novacaine as opposed to a shot in the bloody gums?

You guys don't leave my face numb. You just leave it with a smile.

So, thanks. Thanks for your responses yesterday when I laid bare my heart. Thanks for those who are pitching in when he is gone. And those who are far away but who will be praying and thinking of us and yes, sending me things to make me laugh in the midst of it.

That's the kind of shot worth having.

Moment of Grace

I was sitting on the deck stairs, the early evening autumn light trickling across the backyard through the neighbors' trees. The baby was in my arms, watching his brothers laugh and play with their father alongside them. And I felt a sudden quickening of my heart, an inexplicable intake of breath.

It was a moment of grace.

One moment in a constant day of feeding and changing and discipline and hurry.

But in that moment, that light coming through the trees was like a shaft of light to my heart.

"You made it. Look around you. Smiles, laughter, health, bounty. You made it."

Sometimes you are in something painful or challenging or dark for so long that you almost don't notice when the darkness shifts. And it might only shift by millimeters, but it starts to recede. Little by little, moment by moment. And then that light streaks in and you can see. See what God has done, see the scars and the hope, see the good even in the midst of the everyday challenges.

A moment of grace.

I will always be marked by our miscarriage. Our years of infertility have left their scars. The ups and downs of waiting on our boys changed who I am. This past year of tantrums and battles and fatigue and the completely overwhelming nature of being a mom to two children under two has challenged me to love deeper and more unconditionally than I thought possible.

And in that moment of grace, I could see.

See my laughing toddler and realize with a shock that he hadn't had any meltdowns that day. Not one. See my eight-year-old who went from being an only child in a calm, quiet house to the oldest of three boys in nonstop chaos in just a year and a half's time. And to see him loving it, embracing it. To see it changing him for good. To see this baby who is emerging from the newborn phase laughing and sleeping and staring us down when we eat in front of him and remembering that we didn't even know about him five months ago. To see this man with whom I've chosen to walk life, a true partner, encourager, the hardest-working and most generous man I know, who loves his family with unwavering fierceness.

A moment of grace.

To drink it in, give thanks, take stock and look forward in hope to what our family is becoming. To know these moments will come and go, that some days will still be long and hard, but that God is faithful. That he gives grace and strength. That he gifts us with these moments where we can suddenly see and know that He is good.

This morning, as I reflect on that moment I am reminded of the words of one of my favorite songs:

"Let hope rise and darkness tremble
In your Holy light
That every eye will see
Jesus, Our God
Great and mighty to be praised "  (From "With Everything" by Hillsong United )

Even sitting among the dirty dishes and the long lists for the day ahead, I am asking hope to continue to rise. To see the darkness continue to fade. To move boldly forward in ways that draw myself and others to know God better.

To see more moments of grace and light and make them as much a part of who I am as the scars have been. I don't need the scars to fade - but they are so much more beautiful in the light.

Naptime Challenge Day 4 - Spouses

It's easy in this stage of life to just kind of coast along. To make sure the kids are fed and sleeping and healthy. To take turns driving one to soccer and the other to the library. To meet up some time after the dishes are done and everyone is snoring for a few minutes of collective yawning before bedtime. We can kind of lose our spouses a little in this kind of fray.

So today's naptime challenge?

Do ONE thing for your spouse. Plan his or her favorite meal or write a note if he, like mine, is very encouraged by words. Find a friend who might be willing to watch the kids tomorrow night surprise him with a date that YOU have planned. Buy her favorite candy at Target later when you're on a diaper run.

Whatever it is, spend at least 5 minutes thinking about this person you married and used to have so much time with. Don't think about what you wish he'd do for you but just five minutes of "how can I love my husband or wife in this moment?

Then go do it.

Naptime Challenge Day 2 - Pen and Paper

We had a reasonable morning around here. Lots of eating, a few hours at the gym and tons of rolling around on what seems to be the toughest balloon ever known in the history of man. I hate to think what'll happen when that thing eventually blows. Ah well, fun for now. Tears later, I'm sure.

As littlest just went down for a nap, I came downstairs ready to do my challenge.

Here's Day 2:

(1) Again, leave little person(s) room and ignore tyrannical lists for now.

(2) Get out a pen and paper. Or that notecard you picked up on clearance at Target two years ago and promptly never used.

(3) Sit down and write an actual note. Yes, a handwritten note with pen and ink. Pick just one person. (or two if you are feeling cah-razy today.) Mine is going to be a "I've been thinking about you and sad we never find time to skype or talk but you are a big part of my life and I wanted to say hi" type of note.

(4) Get out an envelope, address the darn thing and, if you even own any at this point, put a stamp on it. If you are like me and don't do this crucial step, your note will sit on your counter until everything you wrote in it becomes irrelevent and you have to start from scratch two years from now the next time you see cute notepaper on sale.

(5) Do whatever you need to do with it to make sure it actually gets mailed.

That's it.

A note. From you to someone you love or miss or just want to remind that he or she matters.

Naptime Challenge Day 1 - Dance It Out

If you didn't read yesterday's post, I am attempting to integrate a new habit during my youngest son's naptime in an effort to focus my freedom. I'm going to try it for a week- if it turns out it adds stress, I'm dropping it, but I invite you to give it a try with me.

Naptime challenge for today?

(1) Leave your child's room - ignore the mess and the lists and find your ipod or computer or whatever plays music around your house.

(2) Find a wide open space and your favorite song.

(3) Turn it up as loud as you can without waking the kiddo(s).

(4) Then, my friends, DANCE IT OUT.

Seriously, dance like you used to when your husband wasn't home and you had the house to yourself with no kids and the sun was shining and you could do any move you wanted without anyone pulling on you or interrupting you or requesting a different song.

Dance it out.