Act as If

I awoke this morning far earlier than I'd hoped. I really need a good night's sleep. I heard footsteps in the hall and then, I couldn't get back to sleep. I curled up with a steaming mug in a corner of the sunroom that would offer me this view.

Except it didn't. Rain pounded outside, so no sunlight poured through those windows. And the room looks very little like this right now. It's messy and disorganized and remnants of every "Let's Pretend" game in the last 72 hours are scattered about. I wasn't feeling particularly like studying scripture. I spent most of the weekend angry and disappointed. That doesn't usually bode well for mornings after. I'd left my Bible upstairs and it was so early I didn't really want to go back up and possibly disturb Mike. Still, something kept telling me that I really need some quality quiet time.

I pulled the C. S. Lewis Bible from its place in the living room. You know? The one I bought mostly because it matches the paint so well? First, I flipped to Tobit to read "the rest of the story" following the readings from daily Mass on Thursday. Um. No, I didn't. It's a Protestant Bible. No Tobit there. So I turned to Colossians, because I mostly know Colossians by heart and I just needed something familiar. And that's when pieces started to come together.

I think I've shared with you previously how I received a critical email about this post. The writer suggested that sanctity wasn't about "faking it," but about embracing pain and suffering. Her point of view has come to mind frequently in the years since she wrote, probably because she's someone I whom I consider thoughtful and very well intentioned. Of course we have to embrace pain and suffering, but not to the exclusion of "acting as if." I remembered her note again and again this weekend as I engaged in an ongoing dialogue in person with someone about "faking it." 

I tried (in vain) to explain that even though sometimes we don't feel a certain way, we need to act a certain way. I suggested there was spiritual maturity in acting as if we were loving towards someone even if we didn't particularly like that person, of acting as if we were happy to be somewhere even if we'd rather be somewhere else. Sometimes, in the act of behaving as if we were loving, we actually do grow to be loving.

Embracing pain and suffering doesn't mean being all serious and dour and sackcloth and ashes all the time. I think it might mean working especially hard to find the good in something or someone and genuinely seeking to celebrate it. My companion argued vehemently that that was duplicitous and lacked authenticity. I tried (in vain) to explain that often when we behave in a gracious, accepting manner towards someone or something, we begin to feel more gracious towards that person or thing. It doesn't lower our standards or make us less "good." It might even make us more Christlike. He ate with tax collectors and allowed the prostitute to anoint Him. He was embracing and He wasn't even faking it. He actually saw the good and brought out the good. Of course, at heart, some people might be afraid that if they act so, they might actually love so. And they don't want to love. Then, it's probably a good idea to be still and ask oneslf and God why not.

It is, I think, one of the cleverest snares of the devil, to take the "good" people and have them draw circles about themselves whereupon they judge and exclude anyone they consider less "good" than themselves. The circle grows smaller and smaller until, at last, they are left standing alone, having missed countless opportunities to touch souls for Christ and having missed countless friendships God intended for them. There is pain and division and genuine sorrow in communities, and sadly, even in families.

The "good people" would do well to remember that the Church is a hospital. Christ is the Great Physician. And we are all sinners in need of healing. God uses us to bring relief to the wounded.

So, this morning, there in dear, familiar Colossians, was this C. S. Lewis quote. He's brilliant. He knew beter than to call it "faking it." He knew so well how to express this beautiful concept that isn't really faking it at all (my bad), but "putting on Christ."

    What is the good of pretending to be what you are not? Well, even on the human level, you know, there are two kinds of pretending. There is a bad kind, where the pretence is there instead of the real thing; as when a man pretends he is going to help you instead of really helping you. But there is also a good kind, where the pretence leads up to the real thing. When you are not feeling particularly friendly but you know you ought to be, the best thing you can do, very often, is to put on a friendly manner and behave as if you were a nicer person than you actually are. And, in a few minutes, as we have all noticed, you will be feeling friendlier than you were. Very often the only way to get a quality in reality is to start behaving as if you had it already. That is why children's games are so important. They are always pretending to be grown-ups--playing soldiers, playing shop. But all the time, they are hardening their muscles and sharpening their wits so that the pretence of being grown-up helps them to grow up in earnest.

    Now the moment you realise "Here I am dressing up as Christ," it is extremely likely that you will see at once some way in which at that very moment the pretence could be made less of a pretence and more of a reality. You will find several things going on in your mind which would not be going on there if you were really a son of God. Well, stop them. Or you may realise that, instead of saying your prayers, you ought to be downstairs writing a letter, or helping your wife to wash-up. Well, go and do it.

    You see what is happening. The Christ himeslf, the Son of God who is man (just like you) and God (just like His Father) is actually at your side and is already at the moment beginning to turn your pretence into reality.

--from Mere Christianity as quoted in the C. S. Lewis Bible. 

If only sitting here long enough, pretending the sunroom was neat and tidy would make it so.

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.

Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.

How about this idea? What if I pop in here every weekend, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?

{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.} 

Gospel

Luke 7:11-17

Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain,
and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him.
As he drew near to the gate of the city,
a man who had died was being carried out,
the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.
A large crowd from the city was with her.
When the Lord saw her,
he was moved with pity for her and said to her,
“Do not weep.”
He stepped forward and touched the coffin;
at this the bearers halted,
and he said, “Young man, I tell you, arise!”
The dead man sat up and began to speak,
and Jesus gave him to his mother.
Fear seized them all, and they glorified God, exclaiming,
“A great prophet has arisen in our midst, ”
and “God has visited his people.”
This report about him spread through the whole of Judea
and in all the surrounding region.

Think

“Christ has no body now, but yours. 

No hands, no feet on earth, but yours. 

Yours are the eyes through Which 

Christ looks compassion into 

the world. 

Yours are the feet with which 

Christ walks to do good. 

Yours are the hands with Which 

Christ blesses the world.” 

~St. Teresa of Avila

Pray

Dear Lord,

You ask to be prophets in our day. You send us into our families, our schools, our parishes, and our communities on a mission for Christ. Please equip us. Fill us with your spirit and grant us your grace. Make us truly holy.

Act

Jesus sent the apostles out with so little and asked of them so much. And those true friends of Jesus--they were happy. Make a list of the "stuff" that stands between you and your ability to leap to your feet, tie on your sandals, and do whatever He tells you. Resolve today to get rid of it.

Bright Days

It's 7:45 on Saturday morning. I've already worked out. I sat on the front steps with a mug of Red Zinger infused with raw honey and cayenne pepper. My bags are at the ready as soon as the Famer's Market opens. 

Weekend.

Mike was gone all last week. Did you notice without me even saying so;-)? He arrived home yesterday late afternoon and began to put my world in order again. (Not literally--he's not much of cleaner-upper.) It amazes me how much effect one person can have on the heart of a household. For me, it's the presence or absence of my husband that is most notable. But I notice the comings and goings of children, too.

This weekend brings us very much into graduation season. This is the year of Patrick's graduation. Well, not really. Patrick graduated early, but it is the year he would have graduated. So, it's the year his friends graduate. Patrick collects friends like a dog on the trail in the autumn gathers burrs. He has lots and lots of them. And Patrick keeps friends. They've all grown up together. So, we are drawn into his flurry of activity this week as all those little boys he played soccer with since he was four celebrate this rite of passage. 

We also have some matching cousins. Mike's sister and I were pregnant at the same time four different times. Our babies were within weeks of each other. For Christian, there was Catie Lea. For Patrick, there was Erin. For Stephen, there was John. And for Katie, there was Brian. I look with amazement at my lovely niece, Erin, who has grown into a woman of incredible grace and courage and I am so grateful that these days dawn bright for her. With her big sister, and with Christian, they will be a community of cousins in the same place next fall. That makes my heart happy.

Hilary, too, crosses this bridge. For nearly two years, it's been Hilary-and-Paddy, Paddy-and-Hilary. We're all kind of holding our collective breath to see how this transition is navigated for them. But Hilary's leaving will be felt somewhere else as well. One of Hilary's costumes rests on my counter. It's awaiting a temporary adjustment so that it will fit Mary Beth. It's a costume of a ringleader. It's still Hilary's. She will wear it again when the girls all dance together in their spring recital and then compete one last time together in July. But Senior Beach Week calls Hilary away from a performance next week.  Mary Beth will be the ringleader. Still, no one will fill Hilary's dancing shoes.

I can't keep my mind from reminding me that all her life Mary Beth has followed Patrick and Erin. She's been right behind them. This year, she's here to slip into that costume. She is firmly rooted at the studio day after day, eagerly soaking up even hand-me-down roles. Still, whatever they've done, she's done soon after. Don't go there! Don't think for one moment today, Mama, about the day when your three little girls say goodbye to their personal ringleader. Stay in the moment. You must in order to survive. It's here in earnest: the season of a mother's goodbyes.

Patrick, of course, came home for the weekend, bringing Zach along for the ride. He wouldn't miss this for the world. It's a weekend of carefully planned parties, each timed so that one doesn't encroach upon another. Instead, my social butterfly can just flit from one to the next, reveling in merriment. Patrick definitely brings his own energy to the household. This weekend, he'll be sharing energy all over Northern Virginia. 

And I'll be doing what I do. Filtering the energy. Storing it. Letting it soak in. These bright days are fleeting. I'm trying to capture them like fireflies in a Mason jar on a perfect June evening.

needle & thREAD

Remember how I said I wanted slow? Turns out I have it in the reading and sewing departments;-). I've made very little progress since last we chatted books and sewing. The voile frays easily and I think I need to use French seams. Anybody have French seams advice?

I intended to put this sweet little top together yesterday afternoon, but there was a crowd of children who all look very much alike gathered in my great room watching Midsummer Night's Dream and I kept being inexplicably pulled into their presence.

Especially delightful was watching how perplexed Mary Beth and Christian were when Karoline kept explaining plot and characters. At first, everyone (except Karoline and Sarah) were a bit at a loss with the language and the names. When Karoline kept filling in the blanks for them and then Sarah embellished Kari's tutorial, the big kids were more than a little chagrined. How were the little girls comprehending so well when they were struggling? Then it was revealed that they'd recently been reading this excellent picture book and listening to this read aloud.

The whole scenario did make me wonder though: print version first or performance first? Shakespeare's plays were written to be viewed by an audience. But the language does make it tricky to follow along the first time you see it.

Last night, we found ourselves at Michael's and Kristin's house. Knowing I had no sewing to report, I asked Kristin about  her quilt. I think perhaps she'll come back and report on it another day. Stephen is trying out for a new soccer team that is 24 minutes from our house and 4 minutes from theirs. I currently allocate an hour to get to the team where he's played for the the last five years. That team is dissolving. This one sure looks like an answer to prayers. Is it fair to ask your prayers on this one?

How is your summer sewing coming along? Leave a link and show and tell or just chat about it in the comments:-)

Self Care

So, it's the year of Renew.

I had big aspirations.

I can't believe it's June. I can't believe I still have so far to go. Just as I committed to renewal, the pace in this household sped up to where I can barely keep up. But I am keeping up. I'm just not quite sure if that's a good thing.

I think, at heart, I'm the slow type. Slow food. Slow web. Long, slow reads. Slow. I'm definitely the slow type. And I'm the quiet type. I love my time alone with my thoughts. I'm fed by quiet. I know that about myself. I always envisioned myself on three acres or so in a rural town with a sweet library. I even know the town. The librarian there is a dear friend.

Every once in awhile, when Mike and I both feel like we've reached maximum household pressure, we stop and reevaluate. We ask ourselves the same questions. Why are we here (not the existensial why, but the why do we live in this particular place why)? What are we doing? What are they doing (our children)? 

We are blessed that he has a good job. In this economy, when jobs are precious, he has a creative job with a strong company. He has a lot of mouths to feed and he keeps them well fed. True, his job requires him to be here and to be 1000 miles away at the same time. True, it often feels as if he's working two jobs. Still, we are grateful for his work. And we are grateful for mine. Though not nearly the wage earner that he is, I am blessed with work that contributes. It doesn't take me from my home, but it does require my time and attention within my home. It's got its space in the predetermined allocated hours of the day. The hours over which, increasingly, I feel like I have no control.

We live where we do because it makes the most sense when we consider employment, travel, and children. It just does. And as much as I might love to read the blogs of women on parcels of land, as much as I idealize that kind of slow, that's not my life. I don't really believe it's the life He intended for me. My life is here, with the man I love and the children God gave us. 

So, how to nurture slow here in suburbia? We've long limited our children to just one thing.  They can choose whatever they want (within reason), but in addition to school and church, they can only do just one thing. That means if they play soccer, there are no scouts. If they dance, there's no horseback riding. If they want to play basketball, they have to limit it to rec league when there's a soccer lull. Just one thing.

Times 6.

Or 7.

Or 8.

They have just one thing and we have all their things together. Plus a traveling Dad. 

The arithmetic is overwhelming me. I see the good in their one things. I really do. These are children educated at home who have deep, deep ties to community. Mike and I have dear friends who are parents and teachers and coaches who have shared those one things. I am grateful for the connections I've made because of my children's one things. I am grateful for the lessons they have learned, the friends they have made, the examples they have encountered. Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.

And on the brink of burnout.

Yesterday morning, I snapped an iPhone shot of my just-bloomed daylilies, for Instagram. For some strange reason, when I went to caption it, this verse came rushing to my mind: 

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I am certain it was this whisper of the Holy Spirit on a cool morning breeze. 

I have had no plans lately. My days of chore charts and lesson plans and meal plans all but evaporated about five years ago. I've tried to revive them now and again, to no avail. I'm fairly certain I know why I stopped. I'm also certain it was stupid. It matters not now why I stopped. What matters is that yesterday morning, I recognized that God Himself had plans. And just because it feels like nothing is up to me to decide and everything is dictated by the demands of employment and kid commitments, by golly, I need to make some plans.   

June Renew Task #1: revive the planning notebooks.

As I pondered planning, and I particularly thought about how to create more time alone to think and to pray and to write, I thought about Michele's guest post  from about a month ago. I decided to lock myself in the bathroom long enough to get some quiet and re-read it. These words struck me: 

Mothers in particular can struggle with this. It feels selfish to take that time alone with God but taking time to nourish your relationship with God isn't selfishness, it's self-care and there a very big difference. By nature we are self-focused beings and that isn't an accident. While it has been distorted by sin, it is actually intended for our good and properly focused can be a path to growing in holiness. "Love your neighbor as yourself" assumes that we will love ourselves.
Not in an egotistical way but in the way that God does. Desiring the highest and best good for us, that of union with Him and eternal life. That is self-care.

Self care. It's the cornerstone of renewal. I know that it is. But I struggle to get there. I need to pray. I need to get to the gym. I need to write. I need to be in my garden (even if it's not on three rural acres; it's where I can bloom). I need to sew. I need big chunks of time with my husband. I need conversation with my children. These are ways I care for myself. These are the places where I feel most in balance and most aware of the person God created me to be.

I've been tagging along on Heather's 30 Day Vegan journey. (As an aside, I do admit I'm hungry. Being a gluten- and corn-free vegan isn't a walk in the park, at least not my park.) Yesterday, she posed this challenge (at least it was a challenge to me):

In the midst of raising families, meeting work obligations, and taking care of lifeʼs often mundane tasks (taxes, insurance forms, etc.), we all would benefit greatly from setting aside five minutes here, ten minutes there, for healing practices and personal care.

There it was again. Self care.

Yesterday, right after the daylilies, I had a conversation with Sarah. I needed to spill how overwhelmed I'm feeling and she was the safe place. We didn't get far into the conversation before she said, "That's just not gonna work. You need to figure out how to feed yourself or you won't be of any use to anyone.There's gotta be a way." 

There it was again. Self care. 

If I have any hope of skewing the arithmetic in favor of my own wellbeing, I think it lies in the formula 

Planning + self care = physical/emotional balance+ wellbeing

I need to commit this all to prayer. Immediately after the text to Sarah, this graphic appeared in my inbox with a sweet note from Ann. Just out of the blue. Just like that. Because Ann has a knack for whispering Truth to me at just the right time. (Turns out she had a few things to say yesterday about being overwhelmed.)

Yesterday was a bad day. It just felt like a bad day. In recounting though, it's easy to see God's fingerprints all over it. Rarely is He so obvious to me.

I need to commit this season of overwhelm to prayer and then I need to listen and take action.

It's time to pull out the planning tools, time to commit to taking care of myself so that I have the best version of me to invest in my family and my friends. Honestly, I have no idea where this journey is headed.

About the picture:

Yesterday, in my sorry-for-myself-because-I-don't-live-in-the-country mood, I gathered up a load of freshly washed, handmade clothes and hung them on the soccer goal. It was (for me) an act of grumpy defiance. Our neighborhood doesn't allow clotheslines. Sometimes I feel a bit suffocated by suburban rules. I really wanted my mean neighbor to know that I'm the girl next door who makes clothes for her little girls and hangs them to dry. Because I'm slow like that. I'm a country girl at heart.

But, in the end, I'm very much a soccer mom, too.