When Lent looks like a car crash (or two)

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said,

“Never will I leave you;
    never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

We have been hammered with unexpected, unbudgeted expenses lately. Two ER visits, a plastic surgeon, an orthopedist, an ambulance, countless pediatrician co-pays, dad's car needing major repairs, mom's car in the shop for a week after someone hit me, and then...

...last week in the peace and calm that is a snowstorm that keeps us all hunkered down and safe from the world, a snowplow hit our third car. You can't make this stuff up. On the same day my husband was retrieving my car after being repaired from the first accident of the month, I was filing a hit-and-run claim with sheriff on the second accident. 

I want to look up at the sky and remind God that we are working super hard to provide here and these big ticket deductibles are starting to scare me. 

Instead, I go for a walk. 

I inhale the absolutely stunning artistry that is a snow day. He can do this! All of this! This glistening, crystal-dripping, opulent beauty. It's His handiwork.

God is God.

He knows all about the insurance companies. He knows all about the work schedules, and the school schedules, and the intense travel schedule in the spring-- and all the demands for fully-functioning automobiles. He is God.

He blankets the whole world in tiny crystals fashioned one at a time. 

And yes, he knows about the beast of a snow plow that took out a 2006 station wagon that isn't even our oldest car. God is bigger than snow plows. 

I was up at 4:00 this morning. Usually, when I awaken at such ridiculous hours, I manage to get up without waking my husband. This time, he was awake, too. He asked what woke me. 

"I don't know, " came my reply, "but my first thoughts were of rental cars and faulty web links."

Perhaps I went to sleep in a cloud of worry.

Perhaps.

And perhaps this morning was a good time to press the re-set button and to focus on contentedness. It was still snowing when the car was hit. Snow covered all the broken pieces of plastic and glass. But with the sunlight, the top layer melted, and there, crushed and fragmented, are the remnants of money invested in a material thing. Cars, houses, clothing, even food--all these things that take up so much brain space, they are easily crushed and broken.

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[?“And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.  Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.  If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’  For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:26-34

God has no need for money. His exquisite blanket cannot be purchased at any cost. The grasses of these fields? They are clothed in crystal! Faith rises above worry. Even above money worry. I am called to be content. I am given grace to be faithful. I have to remind myself until it's embedded deep within me: He will never leave me. He will never forsake me. Even if I'm stranded with a disabled vehicle, God is bigger.

He'll come get me. 

{Dump your money woes in the combox this morning. Let's pray for each other!}

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If #morningrun blesses you, please share the image so that others can find us here?

Motherhood can feel like the loneliest vocation in the world. Surrounded by children, who frequently bring us to our knees, both literally and figuratively, we can be overwhelmed by isolation. Mothers need community. We can be community for one another. We can encourage on another and hold each other accountable. If you like these short devotions, please share the image and send another woman here. And when you're here, please take a moment to pray with another mother who is visiting. Leave a comment and when you do, pray for the woman whose comment is just above yours. Just a moment--blessed--will begin to build community.

I like to pray when I run in the morning. Often, I listen to Divine Office and pray Morning Prayer or the Office of Readings. Then, I just take up a conversation with God. I'd love to pray for you! Please leave your prayer requests below and we can pray for each other, no matter how we spend our morning prayer time. Meet me back here tomorrow and I'll share the ponderings from my #morningrun.

beholding, wonder, recollection and quiet.

THINK

Any kind of hectic activity, even in religious affairs, is utterly alien to the New Testament picture of man. We always overestimate ourselves when we imagine we are completely indispensable and that the world or the Church depends on our frantic activity. Often it will be an act of real humility and creaturely honesty to stop what we are doing, to acknowledge our limits, to take time to draw breath and rest—as the creature, man, is designed to do. I am not suggesting that sloth is a good thing, but I do want to suggest that we revise our catalog of virtue, as it has developed in the Western world, where activity alone is regarded as valid and where the attitudes of beholding, wonder, recollection and quiet are of no account, or at least are felt to need some justification. This causes the atrophy of certain essential human faculties“ 

Pope Benedict XVI Co-Workers of the Truth: Meditations for Every Day of the Year.

PRAY

Lord, let me see where my activity is actually keeping me from you. Help me to move against the current of the culture and to step out in faith and fully embrace the attitudes of beholding, wonder, recollection and quiet.

ACT

When we push ourselves to our limits and imagine that we are indispensable to our work or even to our families, are we indulging in pride? Is the real act of humility to acknowledge that we are not limitless and to stop moving so quickly through a busy, busy world? Is the humble act the one where we breathe deeply and rest? Let's try that today. Let's step off the busy freight train barreling through life at breakneck speed and let's step into nature. Change the scene. Leave the blinding lights, the screens, the car on its way to yet another obligation, and instead draw a breath in the natural world . Stretch your legs, fill your lungs, empty your mind. 

Activity in and of itself is not a virtue. Sloth is not a good thing, but there is real value in purposeful leisure. Make time for that leisure today. 

It's snowing here today. The will be no run outdoors, but I promise you, there will be time to get out in the world of white and inhale the peace that is a snow day in March. I'm looking forward to it!

What is keeping you from the embracing an attitude of beholding, wonder, recollection, and quiet? Are those elusive states of being for some of us? Or is there a way to build them into the day, no matter what the vocation?

It's Not About the Hamburger

So, how’s the fasting going? You are not alone if you’re finding that it is a struggle to give up what you gave up. It’s not just a corporal struggle — at least, it’s not supposed to be. Our purpose in fasting is spiritual. In our daily lives, the world can overwhelm us. We are bombarded by all those things that fill our senses and demand our attention. Both the desires and the genuine needs of our flesh distract from our spiritual growth. Our daily goal — every day — is to grow more perfect in Christ. 

So many things get in the way. Fasting isn’t an end in itself. It’s not a good deed by which we merit a reward. Fasting is a means to a spiritual goal. It is a way to make us aware of all the obstacles between us and living like Christ did. Hopefully, our Lenten fast brings spiritual renewal, true repentance and genuine reconciliation. Why, though, do fasts often fail to achieve their intended spiritual ends?

In the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Eastern Catholic rite, Lent begins with Forgiveness Sunday. After the vespers service, the first Lenten act is to ask and offer forgiveness to everyone present in the church and then to expand the act out into the world. This isn’t a vague, general gesture, but individual pleas for forgiveness from one person to another and another, throughout the congregation. Each person bows and asks the other, “Forgive me, a sinner.” And each parishioner responds by also asking for forgiveness and assuring, “God forgives.” Then, in both the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Eastern Catholic rite, a very strict dietary fast is undertaken for all of Lent. 

I have to think that such a fast is made more possible because it begins with Forgiveness Sunday. Fasting is fruitful when the Lenten garden is sown with the seeds of forgiveness. Reconciliation is at the core of Christianity. In those final moments in the Upper Room, knowing well the sins that would be committed against Him by His friends, Jesus knelt before each and every one and washed feet. He humbled Himself in a gesture of service and sacrifice. He knew what those disciples would do to hurt or betray Him. He knows what we will do to hurt or betray Him. And still He knelt. 

Jesus died to forgive us. He showed us how to love; through His forgiveness we can forgive. After He finished washing their feet, Jesus gave to His apostles a new commandment: “Love each other. Just as I have loved you, you should love each other. Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples” (Jn 13:34-35).

God love us, and He forgives us. He sent us His Son, who kneels and washes our feet, so that by sharing in His humanity, we are truly reconciled and forgiven. When we watch the Teacher in the Upper Room, we learn that the act of forgiveness is an act of pure love. It is living a whole life of pure love that is really the aim of our Lenten fasting.

To fast better, we must forgive better. We have to recognize that what stands between us and the ability to love well is any impediment we hold out against reconciliation — with God and neighbor. If we are struggling with our fasting, let’s begin our Lent anew. This time, let’s start by asking forgiveness of our neighbor. Our selfishness, our envy, our impatience, our indifference are all sins against love. When we ask for forgiveness and we grant forgiveness to one another, we open the floodgates of grace. 

Having forgiven one another, we are better able to ask God for forgiveness. That brings us to a fruitful confession. God doesn’t need our confession; we do. Because we have known both repentance and forgiveness in our community, we are able to move closer to loving as Jesus did. Softer, more humbly we approach mercy Himself, where our wounds are bound and our souls are healed. Grace rushes in and then our fasting is more fruitful. Ultimately, it’s not about giving up a hamburger or a Coke. It’s about dying to our passions in order to humble ourselves in front of one another and letting love live.

Just Doing Nothing

WARNING: this isn't a quick run;-). It's more like a blog post that got away from me.

THiNK

“Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.”--A. A. Milne

PRAY

Jesus, I am so aware of what a gift time is. I don't waste it. I use it all up, sometimes--way too often--squeezing 20 waking hours out of a day. I have a hunch this isn't really part of your plan. Teach me to value doing nothing. Show me how to find you in the Sabbath moments.

ACT (Warning: there is no "act" here. Feel free to provide one for us in the comments.)

My calendar is so full. So, so full. 

I grew up thinking that love was performance-based. The more you did, the better you did it, the more you were loved. Love was transactional, premised upon my doing something. I was perpetually in motion, striving to be good enough. 

Those are very hard habits to unlearn. 

Today, my calendar is so, so full. But it's not full of things to put on my resume so that I can get into a great college or earn a new accolade. Honest inspection of all those squares in March shows a clear pattern. My calendar is so full because my house is so full. When you tell someone you're expecting your sixth or seventh or eighth or ninth baby and they say, "Oh, you can manage that. No problem. What's one more?" 

The answer is: One more is one more. 

One whole human being more. One more to consider. One more to listen to. One more clean and feed and clothe. One more to come into your bed in the middle of the night because she had a "freaky" dream (and she might elbow the one more who got their before her because she, too, had a "freaky" dream). One more to drive to soccer. One more to pick up at dance.

This is not a litany of complaint. This is my reality as I ponder this:

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. Luke 12:48

I have been entrusted with more children. More than my neighbor. More than the soccer manager who changes practice times and location several times within the same day and thinks it's no big deal to make that work. More than most. So they don't understand. This is hard. 

Not a litany of complaint. Just reality. 

What happens when the habit of performance-for-approval meets the reality of needing to be a ten places at once just to get the job done? 

Overwhelmed anxiety happens. That's what. 

What will the coach think if I just say, "Um, no, it's 4:00 and you said practice was at 8:00 and I planned on that and now you're saying it's at 6:00 and I know weather is an  issue and you're trying to make them great soccer players, but I have a co-op at 3:00 and girls to get to dance at 5:00 and an 8-year-old waiting to be picked up at dance at 7:00 and I can't accommodate you. 

And I know you think I'm a bad mom who had way too many kids."

But I'm not.

I'm a good mom.

To a lot of kids. 

I work it out. I scramble to make it happen. I evaluate where and when and who and I triage and sometimes I ask for help. 

I remind myself over and over again that the messiness of all of this is OK. God isn't judging and condemning based on my performance; He's too busy granting grace and nodding at my all-too-human attempts to faithful 

And now we circle back.

I'm still striving. It's a different kind of striving, but I'm still striving. There's one more thing to consider in all of this.

There is value in squares on the calendar with nothing in them. 

I am good at sifting out who goes where and who gets what and who will need to wait and who will eat the last piece of pizza. I'm good at prioritizing so that they all get what they need. 

But I'm terrible at squares of nothing. I'm terrible at saying, "That's an afternoon of sewing by myself." Or "I'm taking half a day to go to the library alone to work on a project." 

I am very, very good writing in the car during soccer practice or running around and around the empty baseball field in February. During soccer practice. I can multi-task with the best of them.

But doing nothing? 

I can't do that.

Can you?

What's your secret?

What I Learned in February

In case you haven't noticed, I've been struggling to find my voice here lately outside of #morningrun. I'm not sure why, though I do have some hunches. I love my blog, so I'm tying to push through and find my voice again, or perhaps, to find a new voice. Emily, at Chatting at the Sky, has invited readers to share what they learned in February.

That seems like a great way to begin chatting again.

1. I learned that I am happier when I begin my day outdoors. (Apparently this is a lesson I need to learn over and over again.) I really, really  miss my summer walks and runs. I've tried to be good about getting to the gym, but it's a lot more complicated than rolling out of bed and hitting the trails right outside my door. It's trickier when I need to figure in transit time and traffic and such and it's also not nearly as motivating to run on a treadmill. I love the outdoors and I thought that I could walk or run outside as much as I had in the summer. But ice. And subzero wind chills. So, no. When I do get out there, I've been listening to The Fringe Hours. It's good to be given permission for self-care and this book definitely does that! I hope to chat with you more about it when the needle & thREAD feature makes its return. 

2. Mike has been traveling a lot lately. We sat down Sunday afternoon, as the ice did its thing outside and we mapped out the spring. I learned it looks daunting.  I think I heard him hyperventilating. We have lots of kids at an active stage of life and he is highly sought after in Connecticut and DC and Florida. Much juggling of the calendar and some frequent flier miles to bank. Ours was a long distance relationship when we were in college. Little did I know that some of those relationship skills would be refined over the course of our lifetime. I'm still learning.

3. I have a real life friend who will sit with my girls while they throw up. That is one "for real" friend! Her presence in my very messy house with my very messy girls early on a Sunday was necessitated by the fact that I also have a friend who will scoop my son off a soccer field (which he has made a bloody mess) and hurry him to the ER so that a plastic surgeon can stitch his cheek back together. Thirty-seven stitches later, we learned that Stephen's soccer team is made of people who don't flinch and don't turn the other way; they gather and support. That was a hard, hard week. Mike was gone. All the girls were extremely sick. Stephen was a bit of a mess. I also learned that...

4. My orthodontist and pediatrician are pretty much the best. My orthodontist saw pictures of Stephen on social media and texted me immediately to tell me he wanted to see him. Upon close (and very gentle) inspection, we learned that the permanent retainer cemented to the back of his teeth saved his teeth. It's definitely taken a good knock but it held and though the teeth were knocked around, they were braced. So, yay! My pediatrician also wanted to see Stephen right away. He hung with us closely through the weeks of concussion evaluation, alternating between concern for Stephen and concern for Mary Beth, who has caught one nasty infection after another. Lesson there: the first year of teaching in an early childhood setting will yield all kinds of germ exposure, especially if you've never gone to school. Poor girl. When I'm flying solo, and everyone seems to be super needy at the same time, it's good to know that the people we've chosen for health care are invested in us. (<--absolutely NOT a paid promotion.)

5. One skill that Mike and I have gotten much better at in the last couple years is making time for focused attention with each other. We really, really benefit from one-on-one, totally uninterrupted time. And we are learning to look for the small pocket of time, call in our resources, and seize the opportunity. We launched February by practicing this strategy really well. Through some ridiculous logistical gymnastics, Mike and I were able to get away for about 24 hours. We went to Charlottesville to see the soccer team honored for their NCAA championship at a UVa basketball game. We stopped at JMU to pick up Christian on our way, so that he could hang out with Paddy. The game was so much fun--crazy electric atmosphere of ESPN Game Day in a place filled with students fired up about an unbeaten season. 

We left at halftime. It wasn't that we don't both love college basketball. It was more about the fact that we hadn't seen each other in over a week and we were staying at my folks' house and they weren't home. The thought of an entire evening with no interruptions and no obligations other than each other? Opportunity seized. Such a great night and so nice to wake early on Sunday, go to Mass alone together, and gather the boys so that we could prop them up and feed them breakfast. (They'd clearly enjoyed their Saturday night, too.)

6. I learned that Liberty University offers an excellent online education. Mary Beth is fully enrolled this semester. It's been a challenge for both of us as she learns to navigate the demands of college and the nuances of online education (and a couple of jobs). What she is being offered is so much better than the dual enrollment experiences the boys had at community college for their senior years in high school that I'm peaceful about the higher price tag. 

7. My teen boys have pretty good taste in music. I let them man the radio buttons to and from soccer and I've added to my repertoire lately. Upon their recommendation, I've become a fan of Ed Sheeran and Andy Grammer. It's a little disconcerting when my six-year-old belts out "Honey, I'm Good" on endless repeat, but I've learned that the the culture infiltrates the childhoods of kids #7, #8, and #9 and we kind of have to roll with that. The video is pretty darn cute, by the way.

8. Soccer can and will be played year 'round, regardless of the weather. I have now witnessed soccer when the real temperature is 7 degrees and the wind chill is hovering around zero. I've watched how the artificial turf reacts to an inch or so of sleet and how 14-year-old boys think playing in that is about the most fun you can have in February. And I've seriously considered one of these. And a space heater. 

~*~

I've talked about some of these things and some more significant life lessons over at Mercy Found Me. Jacque Watkins is such a good listener! And her blog is just so great--indulge in a little reading over there if you have a few moments. 

What have you learned lately?