Holy and Heartbreaking

As I kneeled on the hillside next to the baby blue urn filled with ashes belonging to my mother I felt as crushed as the white and gray that was about to meet my palm. I leaned forward feeling as though I was going to scream the cry out, it hurt so badly. Nothing prepares the human soul for a moment like that. To reach into the urn that holds the remains of what used to be a strong body that offered so much comfort and kindness seemed impossible. Her face and smile and comfortable shoulders and hearty hug flashed through my mind and I could not believe what was before me to do. I released from my palm the very last contact I would ever have with her physical body on earth. I looked down as the ashes cascaded through my fingers and then at my empty white hands. 

My dad thoughtfully poured himself into each and every moment of planning this service for her and in his opening invitation said, “The spreading of ashes is an expression of the communion that exists between the Church on earth and the Church in heaven: the deceased passes from the community of believers into the welcoming company of those who need faith no longer but see God face to face.” He then named the third reason for our gathering as “entrusting the Holy Spirit to give each of us hope, courage, and the eternity mindedness we need to live out our days without her.”  Yes Lord, please, double portion of the courage. 

As we moved through liturgy, song, and scripture, I found myself with a grinsob (where you are happy and it breaks your heart all at the same moment).  I was picturing her like a memory slideshow throughout the years offering these exact words to me or singing them in the kitchen. The words in our program were not just words someone once said that we hope to believe and repeat, I realized as we were going through the service that I had vivid memories of her offering the very real scripture and song to me. In all the flashbacks, her face is so alive and her voice so sure as she gave me these words for my life.  

Even as a young girl, I  struggled with fear and anxiety and my mother sang and recited Isaiah 43 regularly - “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, and you are mine! I am the Lord your God, the Holy one of Israel, your Savior, I am the Lord… Do not fear… When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and the waves will not overcome you...” As we read them during her service, I knew even in death she wanted me to hear those words again. A few minutes later in the service we began singing and the image I had of her in hundreds of church services standing beside me raising her hand high during the stanza from In Christ Alone that says - “No guilt in life, no fear in death - This is the power of Christ in me; From life’s first cry to final breath, Jesus commands my destiny. NO POWER OF HELL, NO SCHEME OF MAN, CAN EVER PLUCK ME FROM HIS HAND; Til He returns and calls me home - Here in the power of Christ Ill stand.” She would smile so big, like take that you who that stole so much, you do not win, I stand in the power of Christ - loved and redeemed. She knew it and she shared it as often as possible with a low tolerance to let darkness win. 

Towards the end of the service we affirmed and attempted to celebrate where we believe mom is now.  I stood by and watched as each family member went up one by one to spread her ashes. It was exhaustingly painful to know the unique depth of loss we each were experiencing to continue in our grief of life without her as our wife, mom, or sister. While I hate the separation now, I love to picture her free.  I grinsobbed again at the end of the service as we listened to the following part of the song:

The wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed and I'll be whole
Sun and moon will be replaced
With the light of jesus face
And I will not be ashamed
For my saviour knows my name
It don't matter, where you bury me
I'll be home and I'll be free

So we planted a tree in her honor right there beside the welcome to windy gap sign that campers will walk under as they arrive to their cabins. And we all loved having something to honor her on sacred grounds that invite teenagers to consider a relationship with a God who loves, heals, and restores. The very God that pursued her heart as a young woman and changed her hope forever. I am so thankful there is a tree marker there that we can continue to visit and that we can picture as hundreds of campers begin arriving this summer for one of the best weeks of their lives. And as we walked away that day,  I am awed to continue to accept that my mother has seen the light of Jesus face, and I am far more curious about heaven than I have ever been.  

Blessing discomfort

I love to be reminded that our stories are not mistakes. That every piece of our story can be used to change us or those around us - and that much of the ultimate change is good. I never like the story as I am living it it seems. I want respite from our stories of crisis that seem relentless of the last 3 years. And yet, i believe there is a God who orchestrates love and hope for His people. And that my trust in a power greater than myself is where my help comes from - and in many ways I am off the hook for making it all work out great or controlling my days. I am on the hook to stay alive through them - to keep my eyes open and my ears perked and my feet ready - so that I may not get myself out of all the difficult circumstances but that I may take each and every step offered before me with the hope to participate in the great glory to be revealed 

Below was our benediction today and I thought it was great so I wanted to share it:

A Franciscan Benediction

May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
So that we may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom and peace.

May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejection, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in this world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done,
To bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor.

Amen.

Not so much a Hallmark Card

As the calendar barrels towards mother’s day, my mind jumps all over the place to locate feelings to land on this day. I enter this Mother’s day sobered, humbled, and awed. The day can be filled with nice cards and beautiful flowers and can also bare stories of deep heartache, loss, longing, and betrayal.  I struggle to scream out HAPPY!!….Mother’s Day this year as the complexity of that choice of adjectives strikes me as more complicated. I find myself contemplating my entry to motherhood, my motherless new life, and my witnessing mothering of a birthmom.  

Nine or 10 years ago, I was walking out of church on Mother’s day and greeters were handing out flowers to all the moms. My heart dropped and the barrenness of my belly was screaming loud as I tried to get out the door. Our longing was already written all over our faces every Sunday as we navigated through worship and  small talk with the new news that we wouldn’t be able to have children on our own. Everywhere I looked were swollen bellies or tiny hands hanging out of slings. It was hard to feel so alien at the very place designed to build community. And on this day, to walk around flowerless felt like a scarlet letter of its on; I did not want this infertility mark. 

Almost exactly a year ago this time on a Thursday afternoon, I was hustling around the house getting dinner ready after work when I received a call from our adoption agency that a birth mom with a 10 month old son had seen our book and wanted to meet. My head was literally spinning. A boy, 10 months, us, why us, now, why now, how, can this be? Over the next 5 weeks we would go through some of the most emotionally stretching days of my life. Accepting and hoping for this little baby boy also meant accepting a death for someone else. A death of dreams, hopes, expectations, and efforts of his valiant birth mom all the while being an answer to our five year long prayers and dreams of another child, a sibling. It’s unspeakably complicated to remember all the meetings and to know what I saw on her face and then felt in my heart. How could two mothers coexist in this way? How we survived the literal transfer of a beautiful 16lb blue-eyed boy from the hands of one woman of dense courage and grit to another woman terrified to the bone but bull strong as well is miraculous in itself. I remember her uttering through her tears as she stretched her arms out to hand Mateo to me, “I chose this family for you Mateo and I love you.” Such tangible death and life witnessed.
  
I stared as the pea size tears collected on the ground below me. A few months after Mateo's placement with us, I entered my parents condo and I saw my mother resting in the chair facing the windows. The dosage of pain meds was increasing and we were getting less and less “time” with her. For a woman of such determination, wisdom and tender kindness to be stationary and speechless felt so cruel. And now I wish the cruelty had stopped there but it seemed relentless to steal and change her in the months that followed through the ravenous cancer. I missed her so much. I found myself shortly after entering sitting on the floor beside her and just leaning my 37 year old body against her legs on the chair. My head was resting on her knees and i longed to talk to her. After a few minutes I felt her hand on my head and the gentle loving way she ran her fingers through my hair spoke volumes, I could feel her humungous love for me through the kindness of her hands. Only six days later she was laying in a hospice bed loudly weeping as I said goodbye for the day, and I think was the last time I received care from her before the cancer took her away. 

And now I try to receive a day where an infertile woman celebrates the two miraculous beautiful children gifted to her while still carrying close the pain of longing and loss around bearing children with her community and friends.  And I carry the unthinkable ache of a birth mom who spent last Mother’s Day with her new baby boy and spends this day likely cherishing memories with deep love for her son without having him to hold and play.  And I sit with the grief that while spending decades of mother’s day rattling off long cards of gratitude and getting pedicures, this year the absence of my mother is so pronounced all that can be held are memories of her words and face. I’m surprised really all that a day can hold, and humbled to imagine if I have all this to weed through I am likely not alone.

So instead of shouting HAPPY, I’ll say instead - dear friends,  I hope you feel covered and comfort as you set aside a day to reflect on those that have mothered you and around you and how you have participated in mothering as well. May there be space to honor both the difficult memories as well the beautiful ones.

4 month marker

I deeply miss you mom. I have a lump in my throat and I am trying to take deep breaths but mostly sighing. I want to hear what you would say to me right now. Am I okay? Do you think my kids are okay? Is there anything in a day that would make you proud? What would you tell me about how to get through this argument with Stephen? I feel ungrounded and unsure and it’s like I keep waiting for you to chime in on things. The way you would reassure me and invite me to my life. The way you wouldn’t give answers but ask more questions. The way you comforted my broken heart or angry moments. I don’t know how to keep having days without that guidance, that love. 

There is nothing in the world like a mother’s love. Sometimes I tell myself to be grateful that I experienced it with the depth and consistency and grit that must have made God so happy to watch you mother. And so on these days where the ache feels unbearable and I’m longing for your words, I try to remember them. All the words you have given me, all the wisdom that you have shared with me time and time again. I remember the kindess in your eyes for me. I can hear what you would want for my kids. Its not nearly the same as having you here to walk with me but I can connect with the memories of your voice and face. Your words come alive more and more each day and where they aren’t exact, I can usually make a pretty good guess of how you would advise me or comfort me. 

Today marks 4 months since we lost you. I cannot believe how deeply I miss you. Your voice and presence are irreplaceable. I do not want time to weaken them, so I am stuck knowing that time may lessen the sharpness of the grief but also that there is something still alive about you to remember so keenly the way I can today. I don’t want time to pass in a way that I forget. And also I cannot have a morning this full of ache that doesn’t also feel like a morning of gratitude. I had an incredible mother who loved me so big that there is no time that could ever pass that my whole body will not remember how deeply you loved me. Thank you.

feeling not enough and plenty

I walk back through the door energized. I slip off my heels, and head to the kitchen as I see Stephen finishing up the final dishes from the night.  I excitedly begin relaying details of the benefit dinner I attended at my old place of work.  I got to see colleagues, friends and donors while eating delicious food in a sacred space on a sunny evening. All felt really well.

As soon as I wrap up some stories of the interactions I had, i assume we are headed to relax in the living room when Stephen says, "I need to update you on the house. The buyers want out of the contract. They feel we didn't disclose some issues with the roof and therefore not only do they want out, they want all their money back including due diligence and inspection fees." Every ounce of energy and hope ran out the door as fast as you can imagine. I deflated and as I did fear filled up my body. As PH continued to fill me in on the back and forth of the day, my head was spinning. I was stunned silent. 

Why is such an unhelpful question in this case, but I couldn't control all of what was flooding my mind. Why must we go through so much up and down and run around? Why did i get the words from my Keeper, get 3 bids in one day, believe that we were actually going to receive more than what we imagined - all to lose again - and this time lose to people out for blood? And a process that feels so out of control. I am 3000 miles away, i can't look my realtor in the eye, the buyers, or the inspector or the roof guy or anyone to get me real answers. And I am covered in feelings of foolishness in this process. For hoping. For believing it was all going to work out great. And feelings of being an idiot in a process I don't understand, and for the 27 year old versions of ourselves who waived one inspection that may costs us thousands of dollars now because our contractor did poor work. 

I feel dumb. I feel out of control. I feel foolish.  I am also annoyed and angry to find ourselves in this pretty much worse case scenario. As i wrote those things out, i realize now why I cannot win in conversations about the house because I am flooded each time with each of those emotions and I spiral quickly. Not only are the emotions a perfect soup storm for anxiety and defeat, but also, the house represents so much for me.

That bungalow was our first house together, and all that Stephen and I have worked hard for years to buy. And to watch our little investment and all the funds to cover the year its been on the market go out the door hurts me. Then to know that the sale, even in its best case scenario still doesn't give us what is needed to buy here has me feeling trapped. Is all of this a sign? Are we in the wrong place? Do two contracts falling through mean its time to go back ourselves, especially since we don't have the millions needed to buy a home here? I have zero idea.

And I don't know if any of these details matter exactly or if again this is something of life to teach, stretch and shape us. What do i need to learn Lord? Is there an easier route by chance? What matters to me and what do I trust?  What matters to me is that I can create a space for my people and share life as big and often as we can. What matters is that we work hard no matter what even if money doesn't last or add up or make a damn bit of sense. What I believe if i calm myself down enough is that we will be provided for even if it looks different than the picture in my head - and for sure, already and usually - even if it is different than the timing in my head. AND at the risk of sounding so cliche - we are already so fortunate for the roofs over our head and the humans underneath them that we have to love, so my self contempt and fear can find the nearest exit now as i work hard to welcome gratitude and hope back. 

Attentiveness continued

My hope was that some amazing idea would spring forth during my 40 days so that I could launch a writing project and really dive into in the coming months. No genius idea came to me unfortunately, BUT I haven't given up yet.  The Lenten project is complete and I learned from it. I learned how hard honesty is. I learned how much I love TV and exercise. I learned that a lot can occur in just a day's time - AND so, if I live in a way that rushes rushes rushes, I do actually lose pieces of myself when I build in no time to reflect, meditate, pray, read, write. And likely life will always be busy. There weren't that many days that it felt super easy to make time to calm down and write. But I always felt grateful when I tried. So, that's all the genius I got for today. I want to keep trying to show up. It may look different, but I hope to post three times a week and we'll see what comes. Thank you to anyone tracking with me. My word for the year still remains important to me - Attentiveness - so I will ask God what it looks like to continue in that and how I can share it in the coming months. 

I really really love flowers. And sunshine. And when Stephen prunes a tree and I have this happy accident of beauty on my dining room table. 

Cheers. 

LIGHT wins

Happy Easter all! Love Conquers.  The end of the story is VICTORY, that's what SuSu always said. Oh, how I needed to know that. 

A few images from our celebration day and tomorrow, more thoughts about these 40 days and where to go from here. For today, holding tight to the bigger picture, that love conquers death, His love. That Heaven is an end game and it is victorious. All these earthly trials matter, and I am grateful for the Living Spirit with us, but ultimately these earthly woes cannot take all of life from me. My fear is wild and large but cannot separate me from the vastness and the depth of the love of Jesus. I wonder if mom's day was any different today than other days in Heaven, but I felt happy thinking of her celebrating with the angels. 

What with the time in-between?

I regret I did not take the time to sit yesterday. The day ran me.  It has been so hard to carve out time to sit and think and be during this Lenten challenge. I have not made a perfect 40 days but pretty darn close and enough that it has really impacted my processing. I am so thankful to for the space, to breath, to talk to God and to live outloud. It is a season that has threatened so much isolation, dissociation, and angst that I am very grateful to battle as best I can in this season by staying alive and in community. 

And here we are on the holding day. The day in between - or at least we know that to be true. The depth of pain everyone must have felt on this day two thousand years ago, the torture and trauma they were first hand witnesses for in the cross.  It must have been a day on the ground in agony, in misunderstanding, in fear, in sadness, in longing. What mayhem that many of the witnesses were those in disbelief and hate, along with courageous woman like Mary and Mary Magdalene who deeply loved and believed Jesus.

I am grateful to know that tomorrow comes and changes the whole story. I can sit in this day and wait with eager anticipation for the celebration of tomorrow. However, I really feel much of life is like Holy Saturday. I resonate with all the potential feelings of those who loved Jesus and were laid out. I spend more time than I imagined in my journey confused, disheartened, longing, waiting, and sad. The in-between feels like a lot more than 24 hours it feels like months and years sometimes when I am waiting for God to reveal himself in something. For God to show up in ways we can see, touch, understand - ways that give us our breath back, that let us exhale. But LOTS of life happens in the in-between. A lot of change happens. A lot of growth, lots of guts are shown. The thing is, I wouldn't know God the same without the in-between, the waiting, the angst. My need for a Savior and a Presence changes in the waiting. So, for that reason, I will embrace my portion of the unanswered grueling time in between to know with more depth and intimacy the character, the love, and the hope of Jesus.  

I hope tomorrow is a sweet celebration for us all. 

Teo's first Easter Egg hunt! 

Maundy Thursday

It's rather unfathomable to imagine being one of the 12 to dine with Jesus and hear what must have sounded like wild babble for the Last Supper.  To have your dusty worn feet washed and to imagine Jesus holding you, serving you so tangibly must have been beautifully bizarre. To consider that a tradition that is my privilege to practice represents the very body and blood of Jesus seems so precious and odd. The often stale stick to the top of your mouth wafers and grape juice in tiny cups that Hannah would love to keep for her doll babies and think that we are doing it in remembrance and honor of Jesus is truly out there if you really give thought to it. And yet, someone dying for me is also really out there, someone loving me with all my crap is pretty unimaginable, someone wanting a full and abundant life for me - its all a bit much to take in. Someone spending their days and seeing the people the way Jesus saw is pretty radical. And I am so glad we set aside time every calendar year to really consider it again. 

My hope is that I don't go through all the motions, but that I allow what pictures we have been given to penetrate my heart and mind. Beginning with today's events, that I have considered throughout the day how beautiful it must have been to break bread and share wine with Jesus. To hang on his every word. To be beyond suspense and confusion of what was to come. To be terrified and hopeful. What a setting. I don't really want to go on to the next day because its so dark and painful to remember. But I am holding the sweetness and complexity of this day near, and feeling so honored that I get to take part in the remembrance of Jesus every time I take communion. That feels so generous. 

Blessings to each of us as we head into such a significant few days to remember. I pray the character and stories of Jesus fill your mind and heart in rich and new ways. 

Blessings for Staying Awake by Jan Richardson

Even in slumber, Even in dreaming, even in sorrow, even in pain: awake, awake, awake my soul to the One who keeps vigil at all times for you. 

Food Roundup

I've been cooking a whole lot this season. I love to chop. All the rest i could live with or without. I do also love to grill but that's basically impossible here for 8 months of the year, so anywhoski. Here is a roundup of some indoor cooking that I thought tasted pretty dang good. Part of the reason may be that I have turned over a new leaf is that I am actually measuring everything now (i used to think i could eyeball things... hahahah), it really helps. 

Street Fish Tacos - If you can see the below, they are easy and delicious. We don't make homemade tortillas, i just buy gluten free tortillas at TJ's for like $2. But the main point here is the avocado cream. Just make that and put it on anything. i put it over my eggs the next day. It's soo good. 

Morning Banana Bread - you can do anything you like with this - add nuts or chocolate or whatever, but it is really delicious and my kids ate it all up. I put greek yogurt on top and toasted a piece with butter and YUM. http://civilizedcavemancooking.com/recipes/desserts/paleo-banana-bread/

And the trusty leave it and go on the cold rainy (wait that's everyday) busy days beef stew - http://wakethewolves.com/perfect-one-pot-meal/.  It's so pretty, especially if you use multicolored carrots and peppers, i just loved the look of it.  I browned my meat and potatoes before I threw them in but other than that this was colorful goodness and i did what they said. 

Last but not least, it had me at buttery, please march yo self straight to your nearest trader joe's and try these cookies. SO SO dang tasty and rich with a cup of tea, it's just too much perfection. 

Alright then, that's my roundup from a few goodies of the week. Nourish your beautiful selves.