Living past Easter

We come heavy with heavy hearts and silence, bowed down by the weight of a Holy Week marked with emotion and great loss.  We carry our defeats--our loss of hope, the painful separation of death--on backs badly bruised with the sting of humiliation.  Our eyes behold the darkness that surrounds us, and squint at the light of the sun rising on the horizon.  We have seen and felt too much, and we feel crushed by the despair of failure...ours, and the alleged failure of our seemingly absent God.  The cross is a shadow looming over us wherever we go.

Women at the empty tomb, by Fra Angelico, 1437-1446. 

But as we arrive at the tomb, something looks different.  Although it's hard to place what has changed, we realize that the stone has been moved, and the cave is open, almost inviting.  We are drawn in, expecting the stink of death, and yet find...nothing.  The tomb is empty.  We are filled with confusion, fear, hope, and anger...what has happened?  Who has taken him?  There is a memory tickling our mind...something about resurrection, about leaving and returning, but what can it mean?

We stand in the great emptiness, with the echoing of our silent questions, incredulous, filled with wonder.  And we await an answer, a presence that will make sense of all of this nonsense.

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We still wait, in a world that has known a Savior,  and in that same world that seems to have abandoned him (Or, as some question, has Savior the abandoned our world?).  If the message was love, why is there so much hatred?  If he came to bring peace, why are we so divided, so at war?  We are caught in the now, but not yet...the in between time between Christ's resurrection and second coming, when we hope things will be set straight.  When the Kingdom of God will truly reign in righteousness, justice, and peace.  Shalom.

We woke up on Easter Monday to a world that likely looked much the same.  Our Easter finery was put away (more laundry to do and another trip to the gym to work off the big meals and all the candy).  The plastic eggs were put into storage for the next year, another completed cycle of re-enacting the drama that many of us have lost the feeling for.  The Passion story devoid of all passion.

What is the meaning of Easter?  What did it change?  Do we really believe the story, and if we do, why doesn't it change us?

I think for me, sometimes, the story has become too familiar, to the point of making me numb.  There's something wrong when something as fantastic as a resurrection isn't enough to shake me out of my stupor.  This is beyond good news...this is real hope for a world that is filled with death and darkness.  New life!  Rebirth!  Another chance when it all seems lost!

A liberal bishop was asked if he actually believed in the resurrection.  "Believe it?" he said, "I've seen it too many times not to!"

And so, we step back into our ordinary lives, but perhaps our senses are more attuned to the signs of resurrection around us--the daffodil poking out of the still cold ground, the surprising reconciliation, the promise of something new.  I think of my friend's hope as she interviews for potential new jobs after a season of uncertainty.  I rejoice with another who had the courage to face bad news and realized it wasn't so bad after all.  I witness the painful struggles of faith and know that while certainty is not a given, strength and passion may lie on the other side.

Every day holds the potential for Easter as we put our trust in a God who won't be bound by the ordinary.

A note to my boy as he turns 7

Happy birthday, Brady boy!
What a spark you are in our lives.  We had no way of knowing seven years ago how you would change our lives...how you would change us.  I love your sweet, happy spirit.  Your light shines through that cute gap-toothed smile.  You woke up this morning with a "Yahoo!", which is a response to the morning that I could never summon, but is so very Brady.  I am thrilled by how happy you are with the simple things: a balloon you picked out at the store, your own handmade birthday banner, new books, and a candle to make a wish (you said, "Want to know what I wished?  I wished you and daddy would be nice, and it came true!")  We had to light the candle for a second time and another wish so Daddy could witness it, too.  You were thrilled that your room was "FILLED with balloons".  That did my heart good as that was my intention, but the reality was that I gave out after four balloons.  I felt like I had failed, but you saw that as an overwhelming success and I love you for that attitude.

I've often thought that life would be much smoother with a soundtrack.  You know how you can be thinking in the car and the perfect song comes on that just meshes with your thoughts?  I guess that's why so many people walk around with earbuds permanently embedded, listening to the soundtrack of their lives.  Well, Brady, you make up your own soundtrack each day.  It is joyful and fun, offbeat and silly.  You sometimes compose it yourself, and always sing it out loud.  Lately you've been obsessed with the new "Sofia the First" soundtrack, and I'm enjoying the routines and "shows" that you and Maryn choreograph and perform.  Your teacher remarked in passing the other day how much you enjoy singing and music, and seem to do it often (she even said it in a complimentary way, which made me love her even more for embracing your goodness).  I believe it's because you live out the music that is in your heart.

I pray that music never stops, that you will always be guided by that sweet melody inside.  Never let anyone silence that beauty or force you to sing a song that is not your own.  You are so special and your song can change the world, just as I know your kind heart will one day...it already does in my world.  I hope you see, my dear one, how much you inspire my own heart to sing along.

All my love forever and ever, one million percent,
Mommy

Google me

As I self-professed geek, I get a little excited over things that others would find a little nerdy.  My #FanGirl moments are when I get a book signed by a favorite author (Hi, Brené Brown!)

or when a fellow blogger replies to a comment or "likes" my status on Facebook so that I feel like we're "real life" friends (ok, I generally feel that way regardless, but their clicking of a button gives me affirmation).  Not long after I started this blog, I did a review of a book about Disney and ministry and was floored when the author of the book commented on my post.  Until that point, I didn't think anyone actually read my blog.  He had stumbled across it while Googling himself.

Hmm, that was something I hadn't tried, so I put my name into the Google search box.  The results were rather disappointing.  There were a few social media profiles (that weren't mine), my LinkedIn profile (that I rarely update), some random websites that contained the words "call Jenny", the Jenny Craig weight-loss program (boo), and the YouTube video of the song "867-5309/Jenny" (for your listening pleasure):

It seems that I haven't made much of a name for myself.  Thus began a habit of compulsively Googling other people (friends and celebrities) to see their results and compare them with my own.  As you can probably imagine, this didn't help my wounded ego.  As much as I know how comparison and judgment fuel my "shame gremlins" (as my bff Brené calls them), it seems I can't stop from digging myself into a pit of despair.  When Dr. Brown surveyed people in her studies on shame and vulnerability, she asked them to fill in the blank of this phrase:  "not  ___________________ enough".  The respondents had immediate answers, as did I (and I imagine you did as well).  It's far easier to focus on what we are lacking, our weaknesses, our deficits, than the many gifts and resources we have.  

For me, it comes down to not being SUCCESSFUL enough.  Never mind that I'm perfectly happy in my calling, roles, family, and place.  Forget how hard I have worked to get exactly here.  It doesn't matter how meaningful my work is on any given day.  I'm always thinking, "What's next?  What MORE can I be and do?"

It's truly a shame, it's exhausting, and I'm working on it.  I don't want my idea of success to be measured in numbers, or programs, or even Google results, but the affirmation from God and from myself that I am living out my calling as a minister, wife, mother, daughter, and friend, whatever that might mean.  

May I have the peace to know that I am enough and I have enough, simply because of "I AM".  And also with you.