Through Ben’s Eyes October 26, 2009

A few weekends ago, we went to the cabin in the mountains of northern Pennsylvania with my husband’s family. We took the grandchildren for a walk to pick up fall leaves. It was a gorgeous October afternoon– a bit past the peak of fall colors, but still full of beauty.

My son, Ben, was the slowest of the walkers, so I hung back with him as he chose leaf after leaf after leaf for his “treasure bag.” After I watched him choose what appeared to me to be very ordinary dead leaves, with brown spots and without much color, I decided to ask him a question. “Ben, why are you choosing those leaves? They don’t have much color and they have ugly brown spots on them.” To which he replied, “Mom, God made these, too!” He twisted his face as if to say, why can’t you see what I’m seeing, Mom, because it’s so obvious!

It’s something we’ve heard a thousand times in Christian circles, that beauty is everywhere and we just need to learn to see people and things the way God sees them. But as I was sharing this story with my spiritual director and bemoaning my inability to do this well– to see with God’s eyes and appreciate all the gifts in my life, large or small, she responded in a surprising way.

“Kris Anne, it is already in you to do this. You have the eyes to see, and it’s only your unwillingness to believe in the light within you that is keeping you from blossoming into all the potential that God has placed within you. Think about your mom. You have told me before that she had little worldly beauty, yet she was beautiful to you. You loved her hands and her eyes, her spunk and mischievous wink. You know true beauty. The Spirit has given you great power… you just don’t believe that yet.” The truth struck me head-on.

I wonder sometimes if we, in the same way, underestimate God-in-us as faith communities. Do we have faith to believe that it is already in us, as the Body of Christ, to see with God’s eyes and to act in God’s power to bring the Kingdom into visible expression? Do I believe in the Spirit at work in my own church community… or, as our shortcomings and struggles rise to the surface, do I underestimate what we’re capable of?

She’s Wearing my Shoes February 19, 2009

I was down on my hands and knees the other day, fishing around for something that was lost under the refridgerator. Suddenly, I heard Heidi saying something to Ben. She had taken his hand and was bending over, looking into his eyes as she was speaking. “Ben, I know you don’t really want to go, but it’s time for school so you need to get your shoes on now. Let’s go. Come on, honey.”  I looked up and said, “Heidi, what are you doing, why are you talking to him like that?”  To which she replied: “Look, mom, I’m wearing your shoes!”

First, let me just say, that I’m glad the first words out of her mouth, as she was pretending to be me, were NOT “Stop that! Come here now! Listen to me for once- I am your mother!!” etc., etc.     But secondly, I wonder what it is about shoes that define the person, in the eyes of children. Maybe it’s just that they are the easiest articles of clothing to find lying around. But why not my coat or my sweater? What is it about shoes that are so fascinating? Well, whatever it was that prompted her little charade, it has me pondering imitation.  Heidi longs for time with me, longs for my attention. She uses my words and tone… even my facial expressions sometimes. She constantly talks about being a mommy someday and having a daughter. Imitation comes naturally to her. It’s how she learns.

I also learn best by imitation. When I’m learning a new melody line, rather than sitting in front of pages of music, I play the song on my computer over and over again, singing and playing along– trying to get the notes, rhythm, mood, and tone of the song exactly right. I also noticed that I write in a style similar to my favorite authors (though I’m obviously not anywhere close to being as talented as they are)… I use their vocabulary, imagery, sometimes even their writing rhythm. This is not really a conscious thing, but the repetition of reading the same authors’ writings over time has imprinted their style on my brain, I think.

So here is what I am currently wondering… As a Christ-follower, how do I learn best? Currently, I spend a lot of time sitting in a classroom, talking about theology and leadership and church history (or reading textbooks and writing papers)– but do I adore my Lord so much that I strive to imitate Him? Am I learning from Him the way I learn a new song, with repetition and detailed observation– in one sense, “singing His Song” along with Him? Am I beginning to think and talk and the way He does, because I have heard His Words so many times that I don’t even realize they have become part of me?  I realize I’m probably not saying anything new here, but it hit me again when I saw my little girl wearing my shoes.

“Anyone who claims to be in Christ must walk as Jesus did.” 1 John 2:6

Journal Entry December 11, 2008

Today, I offer this journal entry from my current seminary class on the book of Acts. We are reading a theological commentary by Jaroslav Pelikan, published by Brazos Press. I am reflecting here on his entry entitled “Mary the Theotokos,” a theme he picks up from Luke’s first chapter of Acts. Luke makes a special note of the women who are gathered with the disciples, and especially he notes the presence of Mary. Pelikan offers, in his commentary, reflection on the Tradition of Mary, based upon the theological writings of the early Church Fathers. Below is my response.

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After reading this entry, I am shocked that this is the first I have heard of the comparison between Mary the Mother of Jesus and Eve (Pelikan 2005, p. 45). This strikes me as a very foundational piece of theology; one that could actually do much to correct the male domination of American evangelicalism. I may be overstating that a bit, but it clearly raises the role of the female in the Great Story to a new level. She is the God-bearer. There is no Messiah without her humble obedience. She is the vehicle of salvation, certainly not in the same way Jesus was and is. Nonetheless, her faithfulness to her call is essential in the salvation story. She gives birth to new life, thus she is the new mother of all who live; just as Eve was the first mother of humanity. Contrasting the choices and lives of these two women, examining the way God acts through them both to bring redemption—there is so much theological meat there—and it saddens me that most of our churches have been missing out on the treasure.

How do I see this as a corrective against male domination in American evangelicalism? I don’t know that I could go so far as to revere Mary with statues in front of church, or pray to her. I do, however, wonder what it would be like to hear her name in church as much as King David’s or Solomon’s or Paul’s or Peter’s. Granted, there is not nearly as much biblical material written about her. On the other hand, if we based a character’s air time in church on their significance to the Story, Mary would have to be right up there with David and Jesus.

In addition, there is another angle to Mary’s title of God-bearer, and that is the way the Church continues to carry on Mary’s role even now. We bear God in the world as we live in it, as we are Christ’s Body on earth. We often speak of the Church as Christ’s bride, and certainly that analogy is present in scripture. However, I do not think it is too much of a stretch to also draw this parallel from scripture as well—that the Church is now God-bearer. Our task is different than Mary’s, but no less a privilege and no less a responsibility. We are invited to answer the call with her words: “I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38 ESV). If she is not a model disciple, who is?

Going even further, the imagery of birth could be used so richly in our churches. The paradox of agony and joy, pain and relief, is a wonderful way to describe the life of a Christian. There is blood, sweat and tears, along with the beauty of being reborn. One needs great patience and perseverance in order to bring forth the life of Christ—what a perfect analogy for spiritual formation! While I am certain this would push the edges of orthodoxy for most evangelicals, I also believe that the image of God giving birth brings fullness to theology, if we truly believe that our God is beyond gender, and both male and female were created in His image. He gets His Hands dirty with us. He labors right along with us to redeem creation. He deals with sin, not by remaining apart from the damage, but by entering into it and absorbing the pain and agony.

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What are you responses to this?  Have I opened a can of worms, once again?

Of liquid poop, birdseed and gravy boats November 30, 2008

So here it is, my Thanksgiving post. It’s a few days late and actually, I wasn’t going to post anything about Thanksgiving. To be honest, I don’t find the typical Thanksgiving blog post interesting (“all the things I’m thankful for….”). I really don’t mean to criticize– it’s wonderful to remind ourselves of the countless things we have to be thankful for. But after I read about 5 Thanksgiving blog posts, they all start to sound the same. And if you know me at all, you know I tend to buck the status quo… for better or worse, that’s me. But after my family gathered for a belated Thanksgiving meal Saturday night, I just HAD to make my list! After you hear this story, you’ll understand.

My day started out very peacefully. I was rinsing the dust off my good dishes, getting out my punch bowl, had the turkey in the oven at 1:30… everything was going as planned. My kids were a little cranky, given that they didn’t have my undivided attention, but that’s to be expected on a day when one has a big meal to prepare.  My father and step-mother arrived around 2:00 and she helped me with some odds and ends. I was pleased with how smoothly all the preparations were going.  At one point we discovered that I owned no  gravy boat, and we chuckled over the fact that I decided to use one of my ceramic pitchers as a substitute– hey, we can just pour the gravy then… no spoon needed. Haha! I thought I was being rather clever (see me pat myself on the back).

My sister’s family arrived at 5:00, and we pulled the rest of the Thanksgiving side-dishes together and got everyone settled in their places. It was a lovely and delicious meal, thanks to Edith’s gravy, Jenn’s oyster stuffing and green beans and cranberry sauce, Dad’s mashed potatoes and my punch, cheeseball and crackers, turkey, corn and desserts (purchased of course!).  We shared stories and laughter and giggled about my gravy boat (it sure is unconventional, but it works beautifully!).  As often happens with big meals, the kids were finished first and ran in all directions in the house to play. At one point, while we adults were clearing dishes, I noticed that both of my children were in the downstairs bathroom while my niece was using the upstairs bathroom… hmmmmm… “oh well,” I thought, “Heidi will probably help Ben go potty when she’s finished. That will work out nicely. Then I can keep working in the kitchen.”  Haha, mommy, think again!  Not five minutes later I hear Heidi, “Um, mommy, i don’t really want to tell you this, but… um… Ben pooped NOT in the potty.”  Noooooooo…………. but, alas……… yes, yes he did! Apparently he couldn’t hold it until Heidi was finished. And this wasn’t chunky, semi-solid poop. No, this was runny, semi-diarrhea, liquid poop. Amid my lovely gagging sounds and Ben’s whining, we somehow survived the next fifteen minutes and sat down for dessert– not sure my stomach was really ready to handle that transition, but I deserved some pumpkin pie, darn it!

After some clean-up, my sister’s family was ready to head home. As the kids were gathering up their coats and shoes, I noticed my niece pull a bag of birdseed out of her coat pocket. “Hmmmm,” I wondered, “what is she going to do with that?” No sooner had the thought resounded in my mind, that her brother gave the ziplock bag a good squeeze– yep, you guessed it, a shower of tiny seeds rains down on our feet. If you aren’t familiar with a traditional birdseed mix, some of those seeds are as tiny as a pin head. Seriously. Now here is something to be thankful for– we were on a hard floor, right beside the front door. I got a broom and we swept the little seeds right out the door and then off the porch and into the grass! Problem solved. I’ll take birdseed over liquid poop ANY DAY and twice on Sundays.

With the help of my dad and step-mom, we had the house back in order before 8:30. Amazing. So here is my Thanksgiving list for 2008:

1. I am thankful for windows that open when there is uncontained poop in my bathroom.

2. I am thankful that I can breathe through my mouth instead of my nose when I need to.

3. I am thankful for the person who invited wet wipes. I would kiss them if I knew who they were!

4. I am thankful also for the person who invented brooms- what a genius!

5. I am thankful that my children will not always be preschoolers who cannot handle their own waste issues.

6. I am thankful for improvisation… including improvised gravy boats!

But mostly, this year, I am so very thankful for my family– who embraces my quirks and my intense personality, and helps me laugh through my stressed-out tears. You all “go right with my gravy boat” (inside joke) and that’s a GREAT thing!

Bedtime Prayers November 10, 2008

When it’s my turn to put Heidi and Ben to bed at night, I say the same closing prayer, after we pray for friends and family (and dolls and stuffed animals and leaf collections and bikes and trikes, etc.) of course.  I’m not exactly sure how this prayer came to be… except that it’s my hope and dream for both of my children.  The theology behind this prayer is very intentional. It’s holisitc; it’s all-encompassing– mind, heart and body.  The faith I’m praying for involves their inner world and their outer world– belief and practice, saying and doing, agreeing to and acting on.

Ben has started to say this prayer with me now, which is such a blessing! Hopefully the theology will sink so deeply into his soul that he won’t be able to forget it! I don’t want my children to grow up thinking that saying they believe in Jesus is enough. Faith without praxis is no faith at all. Faith expressing itself in love is EVERYTHING.

On that note, for whatever it’s worth, here’s my little closing prayer:

Lord, may Heidi grow up to KNOW you and LOVE you and SERVE you, with her WHOLE HEART and her WHOLE LIFE. Amen.

Preachermom October 29, 2008

I have tried to post something here a few times in the last week… obviously it hasn’t happened.  My days have been filled with responsibilities as mommy, student, wife, preacher, neighbor, worship leader, friend, daughter, sister… I actually feel privileged that my life holds so much variety and refuses to let me get stuck in one or two roles alone. I’m blessed in all these things, and I hope that what I learn from each one, informs the others– that I don’t just get stuck with my head in books or my hands in dishwater or in conversations that are not informed by serious study and reflection.

I was talking with some of my seminary cohort friends about how much I will miss my Tuesday nights at class, once we graduate this spring. I said something like this: “But think about it, guys, this is the only night when my identity is not defined by my relationship to someone else… I’m not someone’s mom or someone’s wife here, I’m just me. I need that!”  To which one of them wisely replied, “That’s not a very Christian way to think about it, Kris Anne… what about your relationship to all of us?”  It’s always good to be reminded of our self-centeredness (Lord knows I need that from time to time… no snarky comments, please). He was absolutely correct to gently reprimand me! How could I forget that I am their sister and friend? I have responsibilities toward them, as well, not the least of which is love! I’m not there primarily to have my needs met.

However (and this is a big however)… I have seen too many young wives and mothers define themselves completely by their roles which center around the home and family, to the detriment of their full identity and calling in Christ. I have seen some of these women wither inside, suffocate, suffer depression, fail to thrive as gifted and called Christ-followers who are, in reality, set free in the Spirit to explore and play on the playground of life! Equally so, I have seen husbands and fathers trapped in their role as bread-winner, cut off from the playground of family and neighborhood and church, wrapped up completely in demanding careers, unable to have room to breathe and explore their whole identity as Christ-followers.

Please hear what I’m NOT saying, which is that it is wrong for a woman to CHOOSE her home as her only sphere of life. It is entirely possible that that is where some women find their playground of life. I wish more young Christian women would give themselves permission to explore their full personhood, though– to listen to their spirits and not “should” themselves into a quiet death (“but I SHOULD be fully committed to this, it SHOULD bring me life and fulfillment, I SHOULDN’T need more than my husband and children and church friends”). There is more than one right answer to the question, “What does the life of a godly woman look like?” Too often, evangelical Christianity is uncomfortable with multiple right answers to questions such as these.

So, yes, I’ll be very sad come graduation time in May. I am so thankful for the opportunities I have had these past three years. Among my biggest cheerleaders and strongest supporters has been my loving husband.  He is dedicated to seeing me thrive as woman of God.  I hope I communicate just as loudly that I am dedicated to seeing him thrive, too. We’re here to serve each other!

I also hope I find ways to encourage other young women to explore opportunities and roles on the playground of life. So many people have made these years possible for me (from finances to child care!), and as my seminary brother reminded me, I am not an individual. I am always in relationship with others! If there is one should I want to live by, it is that I SHOULD pass on the blessings passed on to me!

Love and Difference October 15, 2008

I’ve been talking with a number of people recently about the nature of relationships and how we, in churches and in families and with our friends (or fellow cohort members!), navigate our differences. How do we talk about them? How do we express love when we not only disagree, but passionately and deeply disagree– when we feel anger toward those on the “other side” of issues (gun control, taxes, women in leadership, capital punishment, pacifist Christianity, etc.).  How do we react when we simply cannot comprehend that a follower of Jesus would stand on the “other side”? How well do I love these people? And how do I experience love from them?

These questions caused me to think about the past, times when I have struggled to love and be loved by people close to me who have not shared my views on important issues… times when I was surprised to find that those I thought were kindred spirits with whom I could find common ground and common passion, where actually not “on my side” at all when it came to some of things I cared deeply about. (even my choice of language here illustrates the sense of battle lines being drawn and sides being taken in a war… images that I do not believe are helpful or healthy when we’re talking about relationships within Christ’s Body, but they reveal the very real emotions we’re confronted with situations such as these)

When we meet someone, how long does it take for us to peg them? “Oh, she’s a flaming liberal with no morals! Oh, he’s a rigid, arrogant conservative! There’s an extrovert for ya! He’s so shy you never know what he’s thinking. She’s a loud mouth! He’s just a dumb jock. She’s an airhead. That one’s got an eating disorder of some kind, I know it. It’s obvious he hates himself or he wouldn’t do that!”  There are all kinds of labels out there; we make all kinds of judgments within seconds of seeing someone or meeting someone. How flexible are these boxes we’ve put people in? Do we allow for growth, for change, or even for misunderstanding (our boxes could be completely wrong!)?  We all know the suffocating feeling of having been “boxed” by someone and struggling to get out and let our genuine self shine through.

Why is it that we long for same-ness in others? And why do we find difference so threatening? Is it that love of truth eclipses love of people in our very weak, human hearts? Is it self-preservation that makes us want to flee from those who are different? I wish I understood my own attitudes and behaviors in this mess. I know I haven’t always loved well… my boxes have not always been flexible enough to let someone out to shine. I know I have drawn battle lines in self-preservation, rather than giving myself away in love.

Though I seek to be a woman of peace, I know I have enemies. Jesus’ call to me is clear, though. Love my enemies– turn the other cheek, walk with them, carry their load, welcome them in with hospitality. Love considers the other before the self, love is merciful and patient and kind and enduring. Jesus absorbed the violence of his enemies on the cross, and he calls us to bear our own cross as well, dying to self. Ugh. How miserably I fail at this when it comes to those with whom I’d rather argue the point! And I’ve known the alienation and loneliness of being labeled and boxed and un-loved. It’s terribly painful.

May our boxes be more flexible, God… and may we learn love.

Storytelling August 25, 2008

Before my last year of seminary begins in just a few weeks, I have made a commitment to read this book: Remember the Time…? The power & promise of family storytelling by Eileen Silva Kindig.  I have never heard of her, and it was only by chance that I found this book at Harvey Cedars Bible Camp on our spring seminary retreat back in May.  But I bought it immediately when I saw it, because I have been thinking about the power of stories a lot lately… how Jesus used them, how we can use them in preaching and teaching, how they impact me and how important they are to my children.  Heidi especially is big on stories lately. She wants to hear about the story of her birth, how her Daddy and I met and married, how Ben came into the world, how Grandma Joyce and Grandpa came to live with us and then how Grandma died.  She craves to hear family stories… it really is like an unquenchable thirst with her! So I have come to believe it was a God-moment that I happened to see this book and was able to purchase it.

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I am still early in my reading of it, but here are some key quotes that have caught my attention so far:

“I know that our stories, homely as they seem on the surface, are holy, uniting us as surely as blood and love and history… we’re praying in these moments.”

“The stories you tell as a family bind you close to one another, yet they give you wings to fly out confidently into the larger world. They teach you how the world works and where you belong in it. But most of all, they open the door to that holy and magnificent place where heaven and earth converge and time hangs in sweet suspension, if only for a moment… We tell stories because they save us.”

“Any story that affirms and redeems us is sacred. Sacred stories sweep away the stones, shove aside the boulders and clear a path through the dense sometimes confusing thicket of experience. They rekindle hope, bring us fully into the flow of life and remind us that God is on the journey with us.”

“We all need stories from our past. When you don’t know who you are, who your people are, where you come from or what is expected of you, it is tough to make good choices.”

“Children need many stories to tell them who they are, espeically the ones that show them where they belong in the cosmos– what it means to be born male, female, African-American, Asian, Irish, Italian, Christian, Jewish, Muslim. It is never enough to just know in an abstract way that they are any of these things. They need to feel it, expeirence it, know in their blood and bones what it means.”

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Fascinating! These are things I have known about stories intuitively, both from my own childhood and family of origin, but also now as a mother. I knew that stories were powerful in shaping identity and binding people together. I always knew they could crystalize our “knowing” of things– even our darkest and most frightening stories need to be told so that God can redeem them and redeem us through the telling of them.

Kindig has put beautiful words to describing what stories do for us as human beings. Amen, Ms. Kindig, Amen! I hope I can preserve and pass on our family stories for Heidi and Ben. I believe they need them, so that they can be anchored but also so that they can soar high with the wind!

33 years July 3, 2008

On Saturday, I will celebrate my 33rd birthday.  Here are a few things I’ve learned (hopefully learned well) in these short years:

Keep it simple (thanks, Mom!).  Whether it’s travelling, hosting people in my home, maintaining the family schedule or working on a project– simple is better. Enjoy the experience rather than stressing over a million details.

People more than things.  Relationships are the meat of life… things aren’t. Take time to talk and take time to connect. It’s too easy to take relationships for granted.

Forgiveness.  Everyone sins, in large ways or small. Everyone has their blind spots. Circumstances are often much more complicated than they seem.  “it could have been me.”  Forgive as I have been forgiven.

Listen before you speak. Don’t make assumptions. So many times, I have thought I knew what someone was thinking or feeling, and those assumptions caused huge misunderstandings and hurt feelings where there didn’t need to be. Listen, listen, listen.

Life is hard. Relationships are hard. Decisions are hard. Transitions are hard. The brokenness in the world is agonizing. Sickness and death are so difficult. It’s the reality… yet God is near.

Life is good. In the cycles of birth, living, and death– even in the midst of so much pain and change– life is rich and full and there is joy and peace.

Humility is key. I am quickly tiring of the labeling, the pigeon-holing, the lack of humility between us. There is no reason we cannot listen to one another and respect one another’s views. We will disagree; we will see from different perspectives, but the name-calling and disrespect are not worth it. Being right is not worth the damage we do to one another. Let’s be humble before one another and God.

I’m sure there is more I will think of later… but for now, this is what I’ve learned in life. May I be moldable and humble to learn more. Thanks, God, for the richness of my life, even the painful parts, even the parts I did not choose for myself, yet you gave them anyway. I hope my life pleases You.

Why mothering? March 12, 2008

I am not a traditional mom.  I’m not an outstanding cook; I hate shopping; I don’t do crafts unless I have to; and I’m a full-time seminary student.  This is not typical in Mennonite circles.  People often look at me a little side-ways when I describe my life as a “stay-at-home” mom.  And it’s not unusual for me to feel like I don’t quite belong when I get together with other young Christian moms.

So, if I’m not drawn to the normal mom stuff, why did I choose to have children?  And why am I staying at home with them?  Some days, I’m not sure, to be honest.  I don’t really feel like I’m good at this mom stuff a lot of the time.  I had no strong inner urging to have children.  I kinda liked my independence, really.  On top of that, I often wondered about all the children around the world who needed love and were not receiving it— why bring more children into the world and not share our love with children who are already here?  We could always adopt one of them, right?

But we were getting close to 30, and having kids seemed like the right thing to do at that point in life.  So we did it… and not without some effort.  It took us a year to get pregnant with our daughter, Heidi.  Ben came a little easier, two years later.  And I would do the same thing over again, were I given the chance.  I still have a conviction about all the unloved children in our world. Perhaps someday I will be able to act on that conviction… but these two children, of my flesh and bone, are a gift beyond measure, not only to me and Jon… to the world.

I have discovered that mothering is a crucible.  God is refining me and purifying me in ways that I never imagined, and that I often resist.  I want to be left alone. I don’t want to have to look at my failings every day– my short temper, my desire for control, my impatience and self-centeredness.  I don’t want to give until my spirit feels empty and my body is exhausted. I don’t want to change another diaper, get another meal on the table, do the laundry for the millionth time or clean the house again.  I don’t want to take my daughter to every birthday party or put on the CD for Ben for the twentieth time today so he can dance around the family room.  I don’t want to go shopping again because the kids’ clothes are too small.  I want to read my books, write my blog posts and talk to my friends. I want to preach and lead worship.  I want to go on retreat with my friends and think profound thoughts. I want to play the piano or enjoy a cup of coffee without being interrupted.  I want.

God wants.  I’m being purified. I love teenagers… preschoolers, on the other hand, I could take or leave.  I used to find them mostly annoying, but now I’m seeing the wisdom of children.  God’s wisdom.  My fast-paced me-centered world is being deconstructed.  My kids slow me down, show me joy, introduce me to new experiences and people, and they make me look in the mirror.  Mothering makes me face myself, and all I can do is fall down in front of Jesus and beg for healing.  The crucible of motherhood shows me my beauty and ugliness all at once, and I know my own helplessness.  It brings me to my knees before God, and I know I need to stay here… until I’m pure. Until I die, or my Lord comes back to take me home and I’m made new.

My daughter and son. Mine. But not mine. A gift from God. The mark they will make with their lives will be unique because they are of me and my husband… I hope and pray my wounded and imperfect mothering will bring them to Christ and not drive them farther from His Love.  God’s will be done in their lives, on earth as it is in Heaven.