Inviting, Risking, Recieving

I have a bit of a vulnerability hangover. And my cup fills very full.  So the tired tonight feels just right, and I have just have a couple of thoughts for day 8 of writing. Showing up ain't no walk in the park but it sure is amazing to see all the beauty on the trails. 

Inviting is hard. The risk to let you know I need you and that its not all worked out actually makes my stomach flip. Naming is hard. To put to words what i spend a lot of time distracting myself from makes it so tricky to nail down whats real under all i am taking in these days. But i cannot believe the goodness in finding the words and telling the truth. Responding is generous. The minutes we spend to say I see you are always worth it. I treasure every card, text, email, like, comment, etc. that I receive and hope I will never debate the effort to respond and let someone know, i may not understand or have your answers, but I see you. 

Risking and then receiving is like a waterfall of gold. I am always surprised by who responds and what meant anything to them. And i am always relieved at our shared humanity and the beauty in the undressing, the makeup free, run around bare feet days. We all have a lot of lovely underneath all we cover up that we don't know how to love or see. But when we try, even a little, the sweetness to receive kindness from others in that place is like sunshine on my face. Its just so so healing. 

So I am grateful today for all the kindness and humanity I have experienced of late, and in the last year because I invited and I told the truth a little. It scared the hell out of me, but I loved when it didn't scare others and it actually just made us more alike. I miss people. I love connection. So, I feel all out there today and feel the hunger and wish to be invited on other's journeys as well. So, friends, thank you, and I'm all ears!  

37

A soft warm tear came down my face within minutes of waking today. As soon as I opened my eyes, i felt the ache. It's my first birthday without my mom. Today I am 38 years old. 

Here is an excerpt from Where the Breath Begins by Jan Richardson:

Dust dry, Desert Dry, Bone Dry, And here in your own heart dry, the center of your chest, a bare valley, stretching out, every way you turn. 

Did you think this was where you had come to die?

It's true that you may need to do some crumbling, yes. That some things you have protected may want to be laid bare, yes. That you will be asked to let go and let go, yes

But listen, this is what a desert is for. 

If you have come here desolate, if you have come here deflated, then thank your lucky stars the desert is where you have landed, here where it is hard to hide, here where it is unwise to rely on your own devices, here where you will have to look and look again and look close to find what refreshment waits to reveal itself to you. 

I tell you, though it may be hard, to see it now, this is where your greatest blessing will find you. 

I tell you, this is where you will receive your life again. 

I tell you, this is where your breath begins. 

The last year of my life was incredibly significant, and while one would never guess that a birthday post would include language about a desert - I had more bone dry days than I could have ever imagined. If I could picture myself I would have grown 50 feet tall from the stretching out my body to cover the ground beneath me. And I know, that because of that stretch, I received my life again. I began breathing at a different pace, and was as sure as I have ever been that the breath in my lungs was filled by a Spirit so much greater than me. I had never known as many days where I literally thought, I cannot take this in, my body cannot hold more, and yet, found the day progressed hour by hour and I found my way to rest each night and to new mercy every morning. 

Last year I welcomed my son into my life. It was all quite unimaginable. It was a time of beauty, gut-wrenching pain and anxiety as one woman's grit and courage lead to us having the unthinkable privilege to be trusted with her baby, Mateo, to raise and love for the rest of our lives. The timing, the match, the change it has brought our family to go from a family of three to a family of 4, from raising a girl to a boy, and from having a 7 year old to having a 1 year old again, it has been radical. All the fear and hope wrapped up in the months preceding and following our adoption of Mateo were absolutely brutiful. 

I left my job this year, a job that taught me far far more than any set of skills I have ever acquired at work before, but that spoke deeply to my soul and witnessed loudly to me about the souls of many many others who I had a distinct honor to know and hear parts of their story. It was not a workplace I wanted to leave and in most every way felt untimely to go, but the call away was as strong and clear, so I let go. 

And also, this year, I not only lost my mother from this Earth to brain cancer, but this year I saw death up close in a way I also could have never imagined. This year I stood by, quite near, as so many pieces of who my mother was for 36 of my years became foggy bc of the horror of watching the cancer take its rule over her body and mind. She was the strongest, wisest, most comforting influence of my life, and the gap of not having her here feels like the grand canyon in my days. 

My literal first breath came around 3:30pm at St. Vincent's hospital in Birmingham, Alabama to a 29 year old mother, 30 year old father, 4 year old brother and 2 year old sister. I can picture my mother seeing and holding me with utter delight. I spent all 13,870 days of my life knowing of her deep love and hope for me. And her voice, although not through sining happy birthday or writing a beautiful card, is as clear now as it ever was and I sense her nearness today. I am so glad my mother had the chance to meet my son. I grieve he will not grow up with her presence, but I have a stronger drive that my love and care for him will reflect what I have learned from my mother. That her spirit will be carried on through how I may mother.

I have much desert land to sort out still, much grief still bamboozling my days and kicking the dry dust up in my face.  All the control I have lost in the last year to govern or understand how the days will play out has brought me to a sweet place of openness, even curiosity, and a bit of anticipation for the refreshment yet to be revealed. 

 

Felicidades JRW!

Today John Renfrow Wilson, my dad,  is 68 years old. It was a very different day for him, and all i can say is that he carried with him a generosity of spirit even in a depth of grief.  This is what he has been like in this time. And Bryan, Hannah, Stephen and I did all we could to take him out for a good meal and be good company. I am so tired, so I feel highly unpoetic or creative, but I wish that wasn't so so I could carry on and on about my dad. But you know what I think of him.

So simply let me say this, this year of life, likely his most devastating and full of loss year, it was my sincere privilege to be his daughter. I learned a great deal from him standing beside him on many many difficult and heartbreaking days. He is as quirky as ever, as we all seem to be, but the level of tireless commitment and love he poured out over my mother was significant time of my life to stand witness to honor and care. In addition, the way he has continued to pursue his children even in his own heartbreak has been stunning.  

So, Happy Birthday dad. I admire you and thank God for the husband you were to my mother, to the dad you were to us kids, and the grandfather you are to my children. I cannot even imagine what will unfold in this next year of life for you as a newly widowed 68 year old man curious to God's design for this next chapter, but my hope for you is big.  

Rain surprises

We were driving in the car this afternoon on our way back from Victoria, BC where we took a two day family getaway for President's weekend. Its a little past four and the sky is so dark with the heavy weight of rain that is bursting out and making the driving rather challenging. I am staring out at the beautiful but drenched fields thinking, "enough, this is enough, no more gray days."  I literally started fantasizing about sweating and the feeling of heat from the sun on my face when I was interrupted by Stephen, who looked almost giddy, and said, "oh, I love this!" I kid you not. i laughed out loud. I let him know that at the exact moment he was relishing in the sound of more rain, the different shades of grey, and the coziness of it all, I was basically fantasizing about Hawaii. 

Northwest life is truly not for everyone, the extremes so extreme. The most stunning sunshiney months you could ever imagine with long days and endless sunsets over the water to rave about followed by days and days and days and months and months of heavy thick clouds spitting. I was eager to get away and find the comfort of mountain views, fireplaces, the ocean, and I thought rest. I cannot complain at all. Only the gifts of my weekend came in entirely different packages than i expected. I forget, truly, how different traveling with children is - and i have no idea why i am such a slow learner. But this time, we served ourselves well because we also tried to be quick to give up and enjoy what we could.

As I return tonight and reflect on our mini trip, I smile at the surprisingly sweet moments. Our son no longer screams the whole way in the car, and I believe has gotten more familiar with the carseat and roadtrips and sitting across from his delightful sister. We swam,in the rain, everyday in a beautiful heated pool surrounded by trees and mountains. And we made it out for one meal that coordinated between travel and naps and bedtimes, and though the four brunch spots we had walked to prior to finding this one had waits of an hour +, we remember you can't go to the best new spot with two small hangry children.  So we slip into one spot with mostly community tables and we enjoy their speciality of cream cheese syrup on just about anything we could order.  We couldn't really use our phones much and that was a surprising gift of disconnect. We did however teach Mateo about selfies and saying cheese and I believe he fell in love with pictures of himself and delighted us to no end with his wrinkled face grins. In fact, we all got quite carried away on the selfies as you'll see below. 

So, I'm thankful, for all the ways that when life is so unexpected, it can also be opportunities to find new joy, simple joy - together. 

Who's gonna tell me when to celebrate love? Okay, I will.

In 2003, Stephen and I lived on the top two floors of an old gray house in the Irvington neighborhood of Portland, OR. I remember the season being a particularly hard one for us, as I struggled with the gray, the loneliness of a new & culturally radical city, and a poor fit for a job. Stephen let me know in past years that he would humor me with a Valentine’s card, but that he truly had no interest in honoring a commercialized holiday when someone else was telling him to tell me how much he loved me and when to buy flowers. And so he was over it. 

The thing is, I actually adore flowers. I love to have them all through my house and most especially always fresh on the dining room table. And this year, I’d take any sign of favor or love and I needed everything hallmark had to offer. And I am sort of the mindset that I don’t need an extra diamond bling, but if there is a day set aside to make extra hay of each other, sure, why not… what was the harm in participating? So I cried on my flowerless Valentines. Which sounds ridiculous actually, but don’t we all want flowers, chocolate, and time set aside for love? That year, I needed it all too much. 

The sweetness actually developed after that year where we decided what would be fun for us - which would not be the commercialized menu’s and red roses but that we would cook something really delicious together that included something sweet and a bottle of wine that was finer than most weeks. And that has been just right to us since then. I have gotten over the demand for flowers and been thankful for surprises throughout the year when I receive them. And, I’ve even learned flexibility, that some years, you have Valentine’s with the kids in the mountains and make it as sweet as you can for everyone involved. If we eat more chocolate and remind one another why we love each other so, how great. And that is what our day was. Simple and sweet. Covered in rain and real life, but sprinkled with the extra effort here and there to enjoy chocolate and cherish one another the best we know how - like a walk around the property spotting dump trucks for Stephen and Mateo while Hannah and I swam in the pool practicing handstands and flips. We ate warm stew, drank good wine, and watched the new Cinderella all cozied up on the sofa by the hotel’s gas fireplace. It was good and even flowerless, but I head to bed with a full heart for my people.  

**In case you are wondering, as I always am, how things came to be  - Valentines was really about Saints, go figure.  The day first became associated with romantic love within the circle of Geoffrey Chaucer in the 14th century, when the tradition of courtly love flourished. In 18th-century England, it evolved into an occasion in which lovers expressed their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending greeting cards (known as "valentines").

Angel Valentine Prep

Theologians may take some offense to this post, though that is not my intention at all.  The thing is I do not know what to think of Angels. I am still very much in the working it out part of heaven, angels and all things post life on this Earth. And now I care so deeply because one of my favorite people from this Earth is there. So, I am searching regularly and reading more to see what is graspable of heaven. 

One of my favorite teachers has been Hannah. I don’t know if she is the Angel or if SuSu’s angel visits her frequently, but her heaven imagination is incredible. Likely, you will get more stories than this one because I want to recount them, but since it is Valentine’s Day tomorrow, I will share our morning. 

Hannah walks down the off-white carpet steps into the dining room where shockingly a bit of sun has graced our table for breakfast. Clearly, she is becoming a northwest child because she acts like I was shining a flashlight directly in her eyes and she asked me to move my body and head to block her sun. Of course I tolerated that zero and told her to let the light get all over her face and last the whole day long. I digress from the point. 

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I serve her oatmeal with butter, milk, brown sugar and raisins and while she is doctoring it all up she matter of factly let’s me know that she just talked to SuSu. She said, “She is making valentines - getting prepped.  She made a big red heart for me, and she was drinking her coffee, “ in a whisper she adds, “She puts whipped cream on top on special days.”  I laughed and smiled. That all sounds awesome I tell her. And for a couple of minutes my heart beats at a different pace. 

Over the last month, there have been these precious occasions where Hannah talks about SuSu and I don’t even know how to encapsulate the preciousness, the dearness, the beauty of her imagination. Each time is like handing me a beautiful surprise gift. So I share with joy my favorite Valentine story of the season so far - SuSu with her whipped cream coffee in heaven making red heart valentines for her granddaughter. And it makes me wish for all of us to have that childlike faith, that playful imagination, it is such a gift to share. 

Speaking truth

You know its going to be a great day when you cry watching Kelly Ripa's 15th anniversary celebration on TV and they do a slideshow of her family in those 15 years..And you never watch the show, or have seen her family, or know any of her story.  We women can just have some *special* days where we tear up at basically any commercial ten minutes after snapping at our person for no real known reason. Awesome. 

Anywho, no transition here but moving on. This morning I returned from running the lake and both kids were on the front porch in the rain waving. It was actually darling, and I knew I had pushed the time a bit and we needed to bust it for the morning run around. Hannah was wearing one of her dad's tshirts which has become her favorite pajamas and Mateo was dressed in dark blue pajamas covered in planets & stars with a bulky diaper and he is rambling on and on with absolutely no words that I can understand but plenty of facial expressions to go with them. I feel so glad to see them.  These beautiful needy disruptive joyful loving mini's. 

Yesterday was a significant day for me. In a couple ways, but for now I will play out one. My plans for the day were foiled again when I awoke to find Mateo sick. I do not realign super easy these days, so i found myself loitering through the house trying to find my way to this unscripted day in the rain with this sick baby. I was supposed to have the day with my dad doing various projects and making an IKEA trek. As i was driving around thinking about how I am really struggling with patience and self control on these days with Mateo. I thought through the fact that Stephen and I spent almost 8 years as a couple before welcoming a new person to our family. And then we spent 7 more years learning with Hannah how to be a family of 3. And then once that was on a roll, we welcomed a 4th family member. And we are in disorder. Of many kinds. But the very last thing I could say is we are on a roll. And that's okay, only, I am not acting like it. 

I shared with my dad my disappointment at my responses to foiled plans and more disruptions everyday with life with this new small human. My dad very gently and passionately basically brought me to a come to Jesus. And I need to write it so i remember it and then I need to dig deep and think. He began, "I remember your mom and I learning at a Crabb conference decades ago about our goals in parenting. And I remember frequent instances of when I realized that my goals were connected to people and how harmful that was to them and to me. So for example when I would bring one of you kids with me to a meeting or a gathering of importance, to prove to others that i was a good dad and I had good kids I expected you to behave just right, but then one of you were arguing or on the floor or anything else, I would be very upset. And I learned that I was upset because my goal was for respect, approval, and order and i felt exposed. And I had made one of you kids a goal rather than the goal being how i could bring glory to God on that day through how I treated you and the others around us. And that's the thing Ashley, the real goal for us is honoring and bringing glory to God and living out these days believing that whatever we are doing that is the ultimate goal. Not that Mateo be perfect or that your house be tidy and your food always healthy and right, but that in your day with him, when he is sick, how could you bring glory to God by the way you respond to Mateo not feeing well? or falling on the ground in a tantrum? How could he see care and love and compassion? Sometimes I have to take a step back and think through when I am responding with anger or impatience, why? what did i need or hope that did not play out."

My dad actually went on, and I was silent. totally silent. Because I NEEDED to hear this story. And I TRUST his heart for me and my family that he was saying this in kindness and hope for me. Not as a correction or a lesson but it really felt like he was sharing his heart and learning with me. And I was speechless. 

I am not ready in my own heart to spill all the beans here but my goals still largely operate from the many years of being with this smaller unit and valuing above most else -  efficiency, order, progress, and down time. Those goals match raising two small kids like peanut butter and tar. Slim chance. I do not at all believe that I am to spend these years denying myself at every turn and that glory to God only looks like taking myself out of the picture. I don't believe that. I believe that the glory includes kindness and honor to myself as a mother, and right now especially, as a deeply grieving woman. But I believe it is both and my other eye just wasn't open. The days are always about getting to order or just getting to the end. And there is such beauty, such glory in even considering, even letting my mind wander, on what it would look like to more fully own what God hopes for these days with Mateo and Hannah. What these disruptive beautiful humans and me can be up to together for good and for life - not for order or efficiency. And likewise, because of the huge heart of my God, what it looks like to include myself in the goals in a way that is kind not connected to achievements.

I MEAN DAD. Seriously. Just lay it out there. Thank you. So Much. 

Lengthening

It feels so suited and risky to sit in Lent. The season is marked as this movement towards Easter, and in that movement it is also a time where the days are lengthening. And even the thought of that makes me pause. Am I ready for that? Because I have been wearing winter this year. And in this city, especially, it feels like this season is also movement towards light. Our days sometimes seem to hardly even move to light in the winter months -  you can wake to the thickest clouds that cover all the blue and spend the day spitting raindrops and the day returns to dark before many offices actually close  and children are barely out of school, making 8pm feel like midnight. This year that darkness offered some shelter and allowed me to tuck myself away because no one is looking for me out there. The city hibernates. 

"...I get the sentiment, especially if we view Lent primarily as 40 days of rigorous, clenched teeth discipline. However, Lent offers a profound gift - the possibility of shedding clunky baggage, of releasing old wounds,  of returning to a simplicity we crave but have difficult embracing.  Lent hands us a solid reason to resist the many distractions, impulses and confusions that own us, even though we cringe each time we recognize their tyranny.  Lent gives us permission to cut away messy entanglements, to reduce the noise. Lent arrives as a cleanse for the soul. Lent invites us to shed everything that inhibits our joy." Winn Collier

A movement towards light. Half of me says, Thank you Jesus, and the other half thinks.... not so fast. My wounds are still too fresh.  I like the noise. In fact, I feel like the high time campaign season, a winning football and basketball team are just for me, and that Adele put out her latest new tracks this fall just in time for nightly Adele hour at my house.  CNN and she can be my background soundtrack to the loud but gentle waves of grief that this season has found me. 

I discovered that actually in February we are gaining about 2 1/2 minutes of daylight each day. And that is a pace i can reckon with  - and actually seems like the generous movement of a kind & creative God. I am not shoved into a healing or rigorously pulling myself out of the patterns of these days, but invited day by day to offer more space to life, to thought, to light. I can still have Adele hour and Panther games (well not technically Panther games anymore ):) and be in process of moving towards the new season. So with that, I welcome what is to come.  I welcome new joy. 

Ash Wednesday

"Lent is the most important time of the year to nurture our inner life. Life is a continuing process of the death of the old and the familiar, and being reborn again into a new hope, a new trust, and a new love." Henri Nouwen

As we sat around the table, with the fire crackling nearby and the lake glistening right outside the screen door in what was then the dark night, we offered to one another what a word might be for our new year. This endeared group of friends has gathered for the last decade together and with each passing year we grow in tradition of how we may share in life together. One way is giving these words to one another at the start of the new year. In offering our words for the year we are often talking about death and resurrection. Mine this year was attentive. 

And while I can carry on of why I picked that word, today I want to share how it connects now with my lenten practice for this year. For Lent, I'd like to give up some distraction. For Lent, I'd like to take on space to war and write and find and tell. My hope is to write once a day for 40 days. My greater hope is to land a bit. To offer one tiny way to narrow the field of opportunity for swirling and anxiety and avoidance and to sit and wander each day long enough to reflect. I want to be attentive. And I know I cannot do that for myself, or my kids, or my husband, or my neighbors, or my siblings, or my dear friends, or strangers, without allowing this space. 

"But for claiming what God can do within the dust, within the dirt, within the stuff of which the world is made, and the stars that blaze in our bones and the galaxies that spiral inside the smudge we bear. " Jan Richardson

So here I begin... thank you for joining me. I hope a rich Lenten season for you too - a nurturing of the inner life. Feel free to share your learnings or hopes for this season back to me too!