Light over darkness

This morning, when I was leaving for work at 7:30, I was too lazy to scrape the ice off my entire car. Instead, I scraped the bare minimum, a couple of holes in the front and rear windshields that would give me enough visibility (or so I thought). As I turned the curve on our road, I was surprised to see bright streaks of pinks and purples and wondered at what it could be. When I got to the end of my road, I realized it was the sun coming up over the mountains. It's pretty eye-opening (literally) when you're so accustomed to the darkness that you almost miss the sunrise.

The same thing happened in a different way at work on Sunday. I've been in a low place in my ministry, questioning this particular calling as my passion (and thus my view of the effectiveness of the ministry) has been lagging. I work with hurting youth who live in a world of hopelessness a lot of the time. They've been subjected to unbelievable pain from the very people who should have loved them the most. As a result of their brokeness, they act out in ways that are often harmful to themselves and others. It's hard to watch their downward spirals and feel powerless to touch them and change their lives. But in a surprising way, they brought light into my darkness.

As it was Halloween, I had been busy setting up a chapel service on fear. The chapel was decorated with spiderwebs, fake spiders, mice, skeletons, and ghosts. The space was lit by only a few candles and scary music played in the background. I planned on leading a discussion on the fears we hold inside and how we often wear "masks" to hide them. Then I hoped to turn it around by showing the many verses in the Bible that urge us to "fear not". But when I went to have dinner with the kids, I was surprised to find a well-dressed bridal party awaiting me. They had coordinated their Halloween costumes so that there was a bride and groom, flower girl, bridesmaids, a father of the bride, and a minister. They had written their own vows and planned a fake wedding ceremony. So I switched gears, helped to direct a fake wedding, and ended up discussing love and marriage instead. We then had a reception feast of candy corn and other Halloween candy, and they carried away skeletons, and fake creepy things as favors!

It was a reminder to me that love always wins out over fear and darkness...when we allow it to. I'm thankful to God for God's light that shows up in the most unexpected places.

My Superheroes

Not everyone is lucky enough to know a superhero...and I'm fortunate enough to have two living in my house! Super Why and Wonder Red always make life more interesting. But they are not your ordinary heroes. They do not fly, are never invisible, and don't tend to move very fast. But what they lack in speed is made up for in their wonder and compassion. Our most recent mission involved the discovery of a "woolly worm" in our "garden" (don't be confused by the lack of vegetation) .

It started as the most ordinary of missions (Super Mommy wanted to get pictures of Halloween costumes before the flurry and chaos of the actual event rendered her brain-dead and camera-less). But while frolicking in the gorgeous fall weather, they discovered a hairy (yet small) beast invading the former site of our "damaters" (tomatoes). Super Why was not afraid, and armed with the power of questioning (thus the appropriate name), he learned it was a caterpillar.

Super Mommy (armed with the power of worry) recalled in the fuzzy haze of her science background a zillion years ago that some caterpillars can be irritating or toxic and gently suggested that maybe the caterpillar would like to be put down (as it was cowering in a ball). Wonder Red came over to investigate and noticed the wet residue on Super Why's hand (poison?? urine??) and deduced that the woolly worm was crying because he was sad.

And so my two Super Heroes did what they do best. In their gentle and kind way, they collected mini pine cones and grass clippings as a "soft" blanket for the scared worm (Wonder Red, with the power of empathy, would want no less for herself). They worked together to shelter the worm and show their gentleness, kindness, and compassion. Then Super Why gently led his friend Wonder Red back to the house to the tune of:

"Hip hip, hooray...the Super Readers saved the day!"

Order outside, mess within

I'm an anti-hoarder. Most people who visit our home are utterly amazed by our lack of stuff. The four of us live in a 1300 square foot house (with one bathroom--shocker!). There are no knick-knacks, few pictures on display, and just a few neat containers and shelves to contain the kids' toys. You could drop by at almost any moment and be assured that there will not be any clutter. Most of the toys will be put away in their designated spots, the rugs will be vacuumed, and the fingerprints will be wiped off of the windows and doors. A lot of people consider it intimidating and will either ask me to come organize their homes or promise to never invite me over to witness their messes. There have been times when I've felt like an oddball as most people profess to want order and organization, but few seem to understand how to get there. So I become the anal, OCD butt of jokes or left-handed "compliments" ("I could never be this neat...I just want to be comfortable and let my kids have the freedom to play and have fun")

But lest you think this neatness is a sign of perfection (or an attempt to reach it), let me explain. The order on the outside is my attempt to control the chaos on the inside. I learned a long time ago that there are a multitude of things I can't control. For a self-professed control-freak like myself this is torture. I can't control other people, and I can't control their perceptions of me. I can't make myself fit in or always be the person I want to be. I can't always control how much money I have, or the health, fitness, and stability of those I love. I can't always make things better. But I can clean. I can straighten and de-clutter. I can keep the outside sparkling as an attempt at quieting the noise inside. This is my area of control.

Parenthood has taught me many lessons, and probably the biggest is about the illusion of control. I thought that when I was a parent, I could mold and make my family into what I wanted it to be. I could be the perfect parent along with my perfect husband, John. We even joked when I was pregnant about our little "Apex", the perfect baby-to-be. We were both ministers and very self-aware. We had a close and healthy relationship, both as friends and marriage partners. We worked with "problem" children and those struggling through unhealthy relationships. We knew what not to do, and thus assumed we'd know just what to do.

I followed the rules to a T in my pregnancy...didn't eat anything from the "dangerous" list, and kept myself at the ideal pregnancy weight. I read books to my baby in the womb and had lots of time to bond with our sweet baby boy before we even met him. Nothing prepared us for the unexpected c-section and preemie baby who was sick for much of his first year of life. And even after that, we still weren't prepared for the emergency delivery of his sister two years later that was like a scene out of "ER". I never expected children that wouldn't "submit" to my healthy food regimen, or who would whine, scream, bite, and hit, even when we explained how their behavior was inappropriate.

And so I clean, and straighten, and slowly take the time to straighten out my own perceptions. I'm learning that I'm not always in control...and maybe that's best. I'm learning that I can lean on others (like my as close to perfect as possible husband) for help and support. And most of all, I'm trusting in God to guide us as a family. I'm learning from my kids who show me that it's good to be spontaneous and silly, and that the most important thing is love. I was reading a book to my baby girl the other day that ended with a spider who had been searching for her mother saying something along the lines of you can always find a mother because she's the one who loves you best. Maryn replied, "I love you best, too, Mommy." And I think that's true. Through my kids' love and acceptance (even of my faults), I'm learning more about how to love better. And in all the ways I'm learning and growing, I feel the unconditional love of God, cleaning me on the inside.