Falling

My husband and I often joke that we are always on the verge of a catastrophe.  With two young kids and an old house, we're never quite sure what problem may pop up.  Our children are not the most graceful, either, so usually we're sucking in our breath as one teeters on the edge of falling, or makes an unwise leap off of the furniture.  We feel so blessed, however, to have missed many of the "almost" emergencies, especially when we hear the struggles of others.

Last night was other close call.  I was at work listening to a somber academic panel on 9/11: Ten Years Later and kept hearing a buzzing sound.  I couldn't believe someone could be getting so many phone calls.  Then I realized the floor under my feet was buzzing, and it was, in fact, my phone.  As a parent, you know instantly that constant phone calls do not bring good news, so I jumped up, pushed past the university president and my boss, who had the misfortune of sitting near me, and ran out to the car while checking the frantic texts, missed calls, and voicemails from my worried husband.  He was on his way to the ER with Brady, who had tumbled head-first down our flight of steep, uncarpeted steps. 

When I arrived at the hospital at what seemed like hours later (although driving 80 mph likely got me there within minutes), I found our sweet boy in one piece. 

After multiple x-rays, he returned to his talkative, inquisitive self, and made sure they showed him the pictures before sending us back to his room.  He was quick to tell everyone he was in his 16th day of kindergarten at Glen Cove Elementary, and was excited about the stickers he received, anxious to show them to his classmates the next day.  John and I were sure by this point that he was okay, although we were still nervous wrecks.  It didn't take us long to start worrying over the $250 co-pay and the bill we will receive for the x-rays...and yet, still so grateful for his clean bill of health. 

So the first night of the kids sleeping in their new "big kid" beds did not go as smoothly or as long as we had hoped.  Fortunately, our gracious neighbors entertained Maryn at their house, and she was excited to eat cheeseburgers and have stories read to her.  Brady enjoyed his adventure, and we were all grateful to God for escaping a potential tragedy.

Life is full of so much grace, and yet there lurks so much fear.  I have friends struggling with so many serious burdens, and yet they seem more at peace than I do with my little inconveniences and scares.  I worry that my faith is not strong enough, that I could not survive such tests, and I fear that I will be tested.  I spend so little of my time thanking God for the multitude of mercy and grace that we experience and instead waste away the time quaking in fear of the unknown and the "maybes".  And then my fearless children dive headfirst (not always literally, thank God) into the world day after day. 

Brady, the morning after his ordeal, came downstairs and then began cheering for himself.  "Mommy!" he said, excited, "I didn't fall down the stairs this time!"

Thank God for the lessons learned in falling, and for picking us back up, every single time.

Jumping in

Forgive me, blogger, for I have slacked off.  It's been a couple of weeks since my last post.  So long, in fact, that I'm out of practice.  My writing bones are creaking and my mushy brain is reeling from the strain.  There's so much to write about, so much to process, that I don't know where to begin.  And thus the silence.  But it's now or never, I guess, and I enjoy this process too much to give it up.  I suppose blogging is a calling itself.

Over the past two weeks, I've sent my baby boy off to kindergarten, and my baby girl off to full-day preschool.  I've ended my 8 year position for a new job asinterim  chaplain of Hollins University (after juggling the two concurrently for a crazy two weeks).  I've said "goodbye" and "hello" over and over, and I've been welcome, affirmed, missed, and bid good riddance (okay, maybe not the latter...at least not outloud!).  I've met numerous new people, learned countless new procedures and processes, and worried how I would remember it all.  And yet, all has been touched by the spirit of God.  There is a newness and energy even in my exhaustion.  There is creativity and potential even as I have the arduous task of following a beloved chaplain of 24 years.  There has been the grace and opportunity to serve alongside and learn from my predecessor over the past few weeks and I'm so grateful for her gentle, supportive, and honest guidance.  I've fallen in love with this ministry and am dreaming far beyond the 10 months they've promised me, praying that I have years to explore and learn and teach.  I've felt both younger and older than my 34 years.  Sometimes I get swept up in the spirit of campus life and almost forget I'm not still a(n official) student, but, thank God, there are also times when the realization hits with relief.

I've felt guilt at the added hours away from my family and for the household tasks that I've had to surrender.  And yet I'm so thankful and proud of my capable husband who is handling it all with grace and love.  It is all such a gift, and I'm humbled by it.

There is still much to learn and many ways in which to go.  I have to make my own boundaries, for this job could quickly suck up my entire life.  I have to prioritize, or the minutiae could bury me.  I have to learn to let go (of fears, of unreasonable expectations, of comparisons) and jump wholly into the unknown, trusting that I've been given all I need.

My children, entering their new worlds with wonder and bravery, give me a great example to follow.

step by step

I've been walking through daydreams lately that are more like those awful nightmares when you dream of showing up for the first day of school, only to discover you are naked. I've been tossing and turning, wide awake, going through ideas, and possibilities, and fears, while my husband, sleeping beside me, wakes to his own fears of our son struggling at his new school.

It's a time of transition for our family, and we tend to do them on a big scale. I remember being in seminary, newly married, and moving to a new city for two new jobs and a new home, while trying to juggle coursework for classes 3 hours away. The next year brought job promotions, a new house, graduation, and ordination. Then came the children, in quick succession, after adjusting to a couple of dogs, and then a new house. Now, eight years later, John and I are each adjusting to new jobs while we anticipate our son's first day of kindergarten, and our daughter's entry into a new (to her) preschool. You would think we would be used to it by now!

Who really enjoys change? Although I've been dreaming of it, anticipating it, praying for it (Dear God in heaven, PLEASE!!), the reality of it is staggering. It's leaving the comfort and security (the apathy and laziness?), the familiarity (the safety?), and facing the fear (can I? will I?). It's stepping out in faith or bravado, innocence or ignorance; it's facing a future that isn't written by me, but by God. The big transitions in my life are never my own plans. No, my plans are meek and small and static. God, however, enjoys shaking me up, and filling me with a passion that knows no bounds. It isn't comfortable or easy or predictable, but it is sustaining and exhilarating, and full of love.

It's a lesson in letting go of control, which is a constant battle for me. The battle will be even more fierce when I have to surrender control of my sweet boy's life as he goes off into the bigger world of school. I worry about his acceptance, and who will be his friends, and if he can learn to lead as much as he follows. I don't worry about his skills or competence or academics, but I worry about his heart and the quality of what his quick mind takes in. How will he find his way (figuratively, not literally...well, maybe a bit of that, too)? I know this transition will be good for all of us, but what will be the cost as we begin the life-long process of separation?

It all comes down to faith, and faith, I'm learning, isn't something that you ever just have. I'm always growing in faith, slowly, incrementally, through each new change. Each experience brings more faith, just enough to guide me to that next step. Through the process I will always have enough, if I can just let go and trust in the God that has placed each step before me. Thanks be to God.