curriculum twist

 Last week he learned how to drive a tearful mama through the dark and snow

How to walk into hospital rooms and give long hugs

How to see strength made weak, and not crumble at the knees,

How to give hugs liberally, to hold his Nana and speak love into her heart

To sit alone in the quiet rooms of her house, to miss all the noise, even siblings, 

and to lean on his people, and to let his mom see his tearful face without shame

And he learned how to keep praying the Lord’s prayer when his mama’s voice broke, when she couldn’t quite say “thy will be done.” 

and how to wait out her grief tornado with calm loving presence in a parking lot

(as she once waited out his temper tantrums)

We noticed the subtle difference between a hurried “Do you have questions?” and a gentle “What questions do you have?” How a posture can push away or invite, can threaten or serve; the gift of an unhurried presence and a compassionate ear. 

and we learned how to ender hospital rooms with a story to tell, about life on the outside

and a psalm or prayer for emergencies

and to let people talk; let them tell and retell all the horrible twists and turns

and how it’s always ok to say nothing and just be present

and to ask ourselves what we need to keep showing up to those hard places

What is the family’s treatment plan? 

And we looked around and saw Hope and Fear

Both stubbornly insisting on being in the room, all the time

(Let them speak, don’t let either bulldoze the other out

They both need to be heard

and neither one really knows the future)

If a tender heart peeks out, and ‘I need to tell you how much you mean to me’ starts, and a chin quivers, don’t smother the uncomfortableness- yours or theirs- let the words be said, and let your tears be seen, too. 

Remember, when you are allowed to enter in to someone’s pain,

you are standing on sacred ground.

Move softly. 

Hug often.

Carry grace.

How a weak adjective helped restore my focus

What does it mean to be a good mother? To live this season well?

What will my kids remember, what forms of pouring out will fill them up in ways that matter?

I ask these questions when we pause from school. I try to take a breath, to orient myself again towards the most important things. 

What does it mean to live well, today? Answers come at me from all directions like wild animals. 

Have you seen their bedrooms? They need better daily habits; hospitality and service begins in the home, do they even understand that?

Note the conflict! We should talk more about compassion, self control, and forgiveness in this place. Managing one’s own body and spirit is probably the most important thing, really.

But also, the future is coming; do they even know what they’re going to do after high school? They should be asking questions, exploring options, feeling it all out NOW! Don’t waste the life you have been given, children!

Wait, what about playfulness? The checklists can strangle a human spirit! We MUST learn to live and play and be small together. This is how we learn to live under the gospel, to breathe in grace together- God upholds the world, we do not!

So I am over here cultivating an atmosphere of…

productive, driven, mindful, playful grace …. ???  Sure.

What do you do when it ALL matters? 

When you find yourself as a human with limits and impossible, important, competing, valuable goals?

------

The other day I was cleaning the school room and I came across this old piece of paper.

“I love how you are always there in the morning.” - Peter

Hard pause.

I could notice the handwriting and spelling: has it even improved, am I failing him in this area?
I could notice that this idea I had once about saying nice things to each other in writing was a good one, and I could wonder why haven’t we continued to do that, and I could start a plan to implement another system, another habit…

But instead I noticed the adjective, the plain, old adjective: there. 

He loves how mom is always there.

Not always patient, always fun, always teaching, always organized, or even always sane!

Just… there.

“I love how you are always there in the morning.”

----

Can showing up daily, imperfectly, really be enough? Can this blind, staggering best-guessing parenting somehow really bless these kids, really result in faithful functional adults?

Fear drives me so much in my parenting.  I don’t want to choose the wrong things, to miss the big things, to mishandle the important things and yet I feel like I do that very thing constantly.  If their success depends on my righteousness or enoughness, the weight of it all will crush me. But what if it doesn’t? What if their lives are complicated equations that God is working out, and I am just a factor, and the Creator of all things can take not only my faithfulness but even my brokenness and work it into the equation for their good?

 If i can remember that He is the Author here, 

that He loves them more than I do, 

that He uses crap for fertilizer, 

then maybe I can keep showing up, imperfectly, relentlessly.

God, grant us the courage, morning after morning, to be there.

*Confession- this post was delayed in publishing because I chased the rabbit trail question “Is the word ‘there’ an adjective or an adverb?”  There are plenty of uses for the word “there,” and they’re complicated. So there.

Grace Frees Me

Grace frees me to be the child that I am and to ask my Father for help. (John Kleinig)

What is grace?

Grace: unmerited, unearned, undeserved favor of God.

Grace, given through Jesus Christ, to sinners, even me.

Grace frees me.

Grace frees us.

 Grace frees us to be honest.

I have found that I waste entirely too much energy trying to hide my weaknesses, trying to make myself seem better or holier or stronger than I actually am.

Being honest, brutally honest, is terrifying, and I think it is so terrifying that it would be impossible…but, God:

But God, being rich in mercy, 

because of the great love with which he loved us, 

even when we were dead in our trespasses, 

made us alive together with Christ— 

by grace you have been saved— (Ephesians 2:4-5)

That acceptance I want?  That security I want?

That approval from God? I already have it in Christ.

I am fully known and fully loved. I do not have to hide any more. I do not have to downplay my weaknesses and exaggerate my strengths. I do not have to waste energy contorting my body and my spirit to make myself perfect, or to appear perfect.

And neither do you, dear Christian.

“Our justification does not depend on our piety and our spiritual performance but on Christ and His performance. We can therefore face up to our recurring failure to live as His holy people and people of prayer. In fact, our failure Is meant to teach us to ask for what we lack and receive everything from Christ.”(Grace Upon Grace, Kleinig, p. 39)

----

When Jesus says, "Let the little children come," may we hear and know that we are included in that invitation! The little people inside us, the scared children that we try to hide under adult costumes, they are welcome! In God's presence, we are free to be small, dirty, whiney, messy. He welcomes us as we are and takes us on his lap and teaches us to simply BE in his presence, small, and so very loved. 

Praise be to God,

who loves and welcomes children,

who loves and welcomes us.

Amen.

Dear Sin-Sick Soul

Dear sin-sick soul,

soul afraid,

soul staring wide-eyed at death, 
at sin exposed:

You there, with the knees sore and hands dirty from weeding, weeding, always weeding... are you discouraged, when the weeds keep coming back?

but I'm such a big helper!

Do you fear because of the strong ones, the ones that will not give up their roots? You pluck off the top and cover the rest, you smooth down the surface, but you know what is underneath. The roots, growing stronger, too strong for your hands or even your shovel. You fear the day when it breaks through the surface again, where everyone can see.

Stop it.

Just... stop.

You are not the gardener.

You are in the Gardener's care.

It is God who will finish this thing.

Those weeds that seek your destruction, that sin-sickness that threatens to devour you-- it is too much for you. But it is not too much for Him.

Safe in His grace, let His Word diagnose that ugliness, and fear it, fear it so that it will drive you to Him, to help and healing.

Lay down your tools and your crutches, and see the powerlessness of your own two hands.

Be still.

Wait on the Lord with open hands and infested heart.

Wait- and remember who you are.

Who- by grace- you are.

You are a child of God, weak and loved.

You are covered in the perfect forgiveness of Jesus.

Your sins have been answered for with His own blood,

blood that gets down to the deepest roots, destroying evil and growing new life.

Your sin-sickness, your terminal illness is no match for Him.

Jesus came precisely for this: to seek and save the lost-

to seek and save YOU.

It is God who will finish this thing.

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you 

will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

Phillipians 1:6

---
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.

(1 Peter 5)

originally published 5/2014

flood in the laundry room

The flood finally overcame her,
there in the laundry room.

The children’s noise was too much 
and she was harsh with them,
angry at their stupid fights over blankets
and who gets the toaster first
as if any of that matters when the world is crumbling.

She yelled them away,
not gently,
and stormed into the laundry room
seeking solace in sorting
and songs to lift her head

But the socks were too heavy,
and her legs gave way

She crumbled to the concrete
back against the washing machine
and the flood washed over
poured down her face
sucked out her breath

the waves smashed her face with grief
and she didn’t get up.

She didn’t get up
and the waves crashed
and her son found her there
with her face on a grubby towel
gasping for breath
under relentless waves

What does a son do with this?
With a mother on the floor?

He could have turned around and pretended not to see her,
Backed out of the room,
away from the unfixable problem.

She didn’t get up,
and he didn’t run out.

She didn’t get up
and he got down with her,
there on the concrete,
down under the waves,
and he leaned against the washing machine,
and let her feel his head on her shoulder,
and he didn’t run from the flood.

And he whispered quietly,
words beyond his years,
“You don’t have to talk about it.”

He stayed
as long as the flood raged

Was it hours or moments or years?
He stayed,
head on her shoulder
quietly,
resolutely,
present.

and she was not alone.

A beef with God: The dance.

This is a dance I have done before, so at least I know how the steps go.
But I still hate it.
Perhaps you have done this dance before, too.

Step 1- Hear of a tragedy or some other sadness.

Step 2- Take it to heart. Stare into it deeply, and take on the burden of the sadness myself.

Step 3- Wonder where God is. Wonder if He really is good. Wonder how in the world can He allow such things if He really is good.

Step 4- Let a crust form on my heart towards God.  Perhaps give Him the silent treatment.  Look away from Him, and nurse my secret grudge.

(This is the kind of thing that can go on for days, weeks, or years. Sometimes this is the kind of thing that keeps people away from church for the rest of their lives. If you are one of those people- I get it.)

Step 5- Fall on my face in some way or another. Realize this is not a good long term strategy.

(aside: sometimes the above steps combine with medical problems or hormones or whatever and depression follows. Depression can cause you to feel stuck right here, forever, no matter what you do. If this is you, say it out loud to someone, please.)

Step 6- Write and pray and think. Realize that my bad day wasn't just about naughty kids or the stupid dog, but about the beef I have with God.

Step 7- Start talking to Him again.

God I've been pouting.
I have something to say. I know I shouldn't say it, but if I if I talk to you I can't not think it, so I might as well say it...

What the hell, God? 
(forgive me but ... what is going on here?)

Why? Where are you? You really love us? I believe- kind of- help my unbelief, Lord!
How can I possibly let my light shine when everything around me and inside me is so dark?

Step 8- Fess up

My heart is overflowing with anger, mistrust, and doubt. Forgive me, Jesus.

You have proven to me a million times that You are good and trustworthy. But God I am weak.. I need You to do it again...  show me where to look so that I can again believe that you are good!

Step 8- He helps.

I ought to know this already, but He mercifully repeats Himself.

He swaddles my flailing soul in the comforts of His Unchanging Word.

He gently turns my eyes back to the cross of Christ.

Here I find forgiveness for my sins. How quickly I forget His poured out life for me!

Here I realize there is so much I do not understand.  How can I scream angry questions at Him?

Here I find evidence of His goodness.  Overwhelming evidence. Evidence that bled out of His heart and flowed down on to the rebellious earth. onto me.

My questions do not disappear, but they are quieted for a moment while I rest in His love--

while I am weak and loved.

I look up to Him. I open my hands to receive help.
Faith.
Hope.

I look forward to the day when I will see Him fully and my questions will be silenced forever.

And God raised the Lord and will also raise us up by his power.

1 Cor 6:14

originally published 10/1/14

The battle is too big for you. Be still.

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." Exodus 14:14

What does this mean?  Is this one we can apply to ourselves or only the specific biblical context situation?  Or maybe ourselves sometimes?

I got this question from a friend, and I jokingly replied, “I think I’m just going to be still and let God answer that question for me.”

Honestly, I would love the permission to use this one whenever I felt like it. Political conversation that makes me uncomfortable? Sorry, I’m too busy being still to engage.  Laundry needs to be done? Nope, I need to be still.  Kids screaming at each other?  I’ll let God sort it out while I read my Bible.

Alas, this Scripture is not meant to be a trump card to use in the battles we’d rather not fight.

---

It is never wise to pull one verse out of Scripture and examine it alone. So what’s the context?

Moses is leading the Israelites away from the Egyptians. All looks to be lost: their backs are up against the Red Sea, they are outnumbered, vulnerable, and they see no way out.

There have been battles that simply end at this point; sometimes, God does allow the enemy temporal victories, and the Christian is called to simply be slaughtered and yet still trust.  Sometimes, we must actively fight evil to stop its spread, and God is pleased with those who defend the weak.  (Thank you, veterans, police officers, brave souls of all kinds who God uses to stem the flood of evil in this place).

But in this case, God did something different.  God brought His people to the end of themselves: to that place where it was obvious there was NO hope in salvation coming from their own two hands.  And then, God did a miracle. He intervened when it was impossible, and He rescued His people.

Surely there was a moment when that word of hope from Moses seemed too incredible to believe. Those are nice sounding words Moses, but do you see their chariots? Look how sharp are the swords! Do you see the rage in the eyes of our enemies? They will delight in tearing us apart! They are coming, and we are defenseless!

And then, the miracle. God parted the seas, and they walked through on dry ground.

Feet stepping on dry ground where water had been only moments before... can you imagine the wonder they felt? The amazement and fear, the utter certainty that this rescue was NOT of their own doing but a work of the God of the universe!

And after God did this thing, His people rejoiced and sang. Hear the words of Moses:

“I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously;
   the horse and his rider he has thrown into the sea.
The Lord is my strength and my song,
   and he has become my salvation;
this is my God, and I will praise him,
   my father's God, and I will exalt him.” (Exodus 15)

Salvation at the hand of God- truly this is a marvelous thing! And the glory of God is brighter in our eyes  when we have seen our own helplessness, when we have despaired of creating safety with our own two hands. This miraculous rescue of God’s people from the Egyptians is meant to give us cause for rejoicing and trust as well, because it is a foreshadowing of the same work that God is doing for us today.

Be still. The battle is too big for you. The Lord will fight for you in the most important battle you wage: the battle with sin, death, and the devil.  Have you tried fighting this battle on your own? Have you seen the futility of your own efforts? Despair of your resources and look to Jesus! Without the miraculous intervention of our God, we would be surrounded and overcome; slaughtered with glee by our enemies.   But our God does not leave us in this place.

He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (Col 1:13)

He has won for us the biggest and most impossible battle in His death and resurrection.   We are in-between times: we hear the word of promise and victory, and yet we see the glint of the sword, we feel the gunshot wounds from the enemy.   We come up against our own powerlessness and we have reason to fear.   But even today, in the fight against the evil our God invites us to be still.

Stillness is not necessarily inactivity. The Israelites had to walk across the dry ground!  But the spirit with which they walked must have been so different than the spirit with which they sharpened their own swords in fearful defiance of the enemy they still hoped to defeat.  They no longer cried out in terror to Moses, but they walked forward in wonder and in trust, confident in the mighty hand of God, strong to save.

It’s is the word of God’s miraculous hand that gives us stillness of heart, even as the battle still rages.  Step forward, hold fast to His Word, and Let God make your heart still.

The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into his heavenly kingdom. To him be the glory forever and ever. Amen. (2 Tim 4:18)

Rejoice with Zecharaiah:

“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
   for he has visited and redeemed his people... to grant us
 that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies,
might serve him without fear,
   in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
   for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
   in the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
   whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
   to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

A gust of icy wind (on Depression)

I (re)learned something this week. Maybe if I write it down I will remember it forever.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

can vanish in an instant.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

is not a given.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

is precious when I have it.

The energy to clean my kitchen and smile at my children

is not the reason I am loved.

Fall. My favorite tree is bright red and I can see it out of our kitchen window.

Lovely, deep red predominates, but the second glance reveals orange, yellow, and even green toward the middle.   The blue October sky as a backdrop-- it is a breathtaking sight.

Today I sit in a lawnchair by this tree.

The wind is gentle, but a strong burst comes, and it begins.

The stripping.

Red leaves cascade around me. Lovely, for a moment, but I see what is happening.

The stripping.

I think of this stripping, and how I have felt it in my own heart.

My patience, my energy, my zeal for life-- it is shocking how it can all just vanish. When the cold hands of depression reach up and grab me by the ankles, what else can I do?  I fall on my face, and all of my beautiful leaves fell off into the grass. There in the pit, I am left with nothing but my own filthy rags.

I cannot get up and clean the kitchen. I have no sincere smile for my children.

They are unsettled, and I am unsettled, and bare.  And so very cold.

A leaf lands on my computer. What was glorious and red from a distance now reveals to me its imperfections. Rotting spots. Discoloration.  

The stripping continues.

Unlike the tree, I do not stand still and accept the gusts of wind.  It hurts too much, so I question God’s work, His presence. I do not know whether to repent or fight or cower or quit, so I try to do everything at once, until I collapse, exhausted.

And then, the seasons change, orchestrated by the loving hand of my Father.  

The climate changes, and suddenly, I can feel the sun again.

I did not make the season change again. I cannot call up the sun. But today, it shines, and as it shines God fills in the coldest parts of my heart, sending the truth of His love that I already know down deeper, deeper.

As for me, I am poor and needy

but the Lord takes thought for me

He is my help and my deliverer 

(Psalm 40:17)

He who directs the seasons also directs my ways, even when I do not understand them.

In this, I can rest.

Weak and Loved.

Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.

Hide us in Your Word, in Christ, that we may weather all seasons. Amen.

If you know exactly what I'm talking about, read all of Psalm 40.
Click here for more of my thoughts on depression

re-posted from 11/2013
re-lived often.

On Passive Love and the Blessing of Neediness

On Passive Love and the Blessing of Neediness

by Haleigh Morgan

I am watching the family interact with our new member. This member does nothing. Contributes nothing materially to the household. He does not mouse or guard. In fact, at the moment he is a material drain. We do for him. We feed him, wash him, hold him, pay for his needs. He literally does nothing ... Except receive the love we give.

That is a huge nothing. We do all this "work" and feel blessed by it. In fact we *are* blessed. It is more than a perception or a mere feeling. There is real blessing in getting to love. Not just to feel contented, affectionate emotions - to do things that are loving for another who simply receives them.

Does he feel like he is a burden to us? Does he worry that he is not productive or useful? Does he fret that all he does is take? Not at all. He is doing his part for us by simply receiving what we give.

Think about that. His gift to us, his "work" for us is just to receive. He loves us by receiving the love we would give. And we delight to give it and are blessed by the giving.

when the "adult" costume isn't fooling anybody...

“Seriously, boys? Can’t we just have one car ride without screaming?” Glare, stomp, pout. So often I act as if trouble is an injustice to me, as if I deserve a day without boys fighting and dumping a box of Cheez-Its in the back of my car!

In this life we WILL have trouble! On paper, I expect it, but when it happens to me, I am still surprised.

Imagine something with me…

Imagine, with a faith-filled imagination, guided by the words of Scripture:

Imagine God, who is and was and ever shall be.

And us, His children, lovingly created by His hand.

Imagine yourself as a squalling infant, welcomed, fed, and cared-for, yet fighting against help and fresh clothing and a mother’s embrace. Imagine being so confused as to cry about the chill of the waters of Baptism, to fuss in response to the gift of eternal life.

Imagine yourself now, not much bigger (in spirit),

still breathing grace, still surrounded by His provision, His gifts.

Imagine your life, sustained and growing, as a branch on a vine.

Imagine our vinedresser is our Father, who loves us and cares for us as He has promised. Imagine He seeks only our good, our REAL good, the kind that has to do with eternal things and not just having a pleasant uninterrupted phone call.

Imagine we are still infants in many ways, so little in Christ that we have to be told what is good and bad, what is poison and what is blessing. Just like a two year old will fight gravity, and lose, so we fight to avoid falling down on the inside, because we like to pretend we are adults, like we can do it all by our OWN selves. Then something minor, like a broken lamp, sends us into fits, and our “adult” costume isn’t fooling anybody any more.

I rage and complain because it’s not fair! My time is much too important to be dealing with all this stupid little stuff! I have a RIGHT to not be inconvenienced!

Really, self, do you?

Does the universe OWE you a day without someone stepping in fresh raspberries and leaving footprints on other people’s stuff?

Do you dare storm before the throne of God and scream that you are entitled to a dry toilet seat, and water bottle without floaties?

In this world we will have trouble. Though trouble is not good, falling down on our faces can be good if it helps us remember who we are. He is the vine, we are the branches. We do not control the weather, or the traffic, or anything else that matters, really.  Yet, we remain in His hand, and nothing can take us from His care.

Father,

Help us to receive this day as a gift from Your loving hand. When it is pleasant, may we thank you for your grace. When we face frustration, may we look to you for patience. Sustain us in body and soul, for without you we can do nothing. In Jesus’ name, Amen.