A Thankful Month

I've been delighted this month to read so many friends' facebook updates of things they are thankful for. It's been a nice counterbalance to the fact that stores seem to skip from Halloween to Christmas without pausing for Thanksgiving. The discipline of gratitude, so eloquently written about in One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp, has been so helpful to me this past year. I don't write in my thankful journal every day, but many days I do, and now I'm up to 487. I even bought my kids little journals this summer so they could keep their own list of things they are thankful for. My oldest has been filling out her thanksgiving countdown calendar with things related to each day that she's thankful for, rather than the usual "family, friends, church" kind of list the others have been keeping so far.

So I wondered to myself this morning why I haven't been counting down the days to thanksgiving with thankful facebook posts. Part of it, no doubt, is that I don't want to seem like I'm bragging, and if I write that I'm thankful that my child mastered a new skill that can come across as showmanship. Part of it is that I don't want to act like life is all rosy when it isn't, or to seem insensitive to the fact that your life might be decidedly less rosy than mine. But I don't think that's the whole story. I think I was missing an important element, something that occurred to me today.

When times are tough, it's encouraging to read what other people are thankful for. On a day like today, when I'm pretty discouraged for legitimate reasons, it's uplifting to be reminded that there are some really great things going on in the world right now, today. Maybe not in my life, but in the lives of my friends. I think sometimes thankful lists, rather than being opportunities to brag, are actually opportunities to encourage. And that's something I can get behind.

In that spirit, here's my list, the first nine days of gratefulness. Not a cheery list that ignores that parts of life are really hard right now, not an opportunity to brag, but an opportunity to say that my great God has given wonderful gifts to me--and He's given wonderful gifts to you, too, if you care to look for them.

1) My husband went on an amazing two-week missions trip, and the six of us left at home managed to be mostly patient with one another and have a good time. Win-win.

2) The way my two-year-old prefaces statements with "guess what?"

3) God reigns for all time, regardless of who is in office any given year.

4) Wonderful, supportive friends. When the going gets tough, you find out what your friends are made of. Mine are pure gold.

5) Timeless, thoughtful worship. The fact that we have centuries' worth of hymn tunes and texts that express Biblical truth in winsome and beautiful ways.

6) The fact that at any given time one or more of my children are doing really well. I may be discouraged in this parenting journey, but usually one or two kids are showing maturity or growth that makes me feel like in spite of my flaws, our faithful God is helping them turn out okay.

7) Our recent bout of stomach flu (which occurred mostly while I was a single parent at home) wasn't too bad or too long.

8) A car that works. One of the doors is broken so we're only using one side door, but the car itself is working just fine. And the broken door served as a reminder that given the car's age, it is remarkable that it is working at all!

9)  The joy of treasures found at a resale store--in this case some castle legos and a new snowman for my collection.

So there you have it. Some of the things I've been grateful for since November 1.

The Good Enough Mom Becomes a Runner (Sort of)

I write this by way of encouraging myself to get back in the exercise groove, which is so much harder for me during the school year with its busy schedule and cold mornings and dark afternoons . . .

If you asked me what my hobbies are, I don't think exercise would make the list. I view it as a necessary evil, one which I sometimes subject myself to and sometimes do not. And running has always been one of my least favorite of all the exercise options.

So when daughter #2 asked to do the same school-based girls' running program that daughter #1 did a few years ago that involves a parent running a 5K with their daughter, I looked at my out-of-shape and on-the-bad-side-of-35 body, and I said, "sure, I can do that!" And then the next day I started running. Well, really it was shuffling. This time around I actually had to start on week 1 or 2 of the couch to 5K program, rather than jumping in at week 6 like I used to be able to do. It was pathetic, really. But I did it.

So here I am, 8 or so months later, and I can run 3 miles without stopping in under 30 minutes. Or I can run 5-plus miles with a few stints of walking. Here's what I've learned in the process:

1) Running is a good way to clear your mind. I still find it somewhat unpleasant while I'm running (although running outside on a trail makes it almost enjoyable), but I always feel better afterwards, and now I find that I look forward to running because I like the way I feel after I'm done.

2) Running will not necessarily help you lose weight, but it will tone you and help you feel better in whatever body you have. Weight loss would have been nice, but I'm satisfied that it's still been worth it even without that.

3) Anyone can run. Really. You may be shuffling for 1 minute at a time and thinking it'll kill you when you start out, but stick with it and you'll get better. I promise. And if you feel like everyone is secretly laughing at your pathetic shuffle, they aren't. They are either thinking "good for her!" or  "she's shuffling just like me!"

4) You have to run regularly, but 30 minutes three times a week is enough to make progress. All spring and summer I ran at least every three days. If I took 2 days off, I made myself run the next day because I was afraid otherwise I'd never get back to it. And sometimes I did better after taking 2 days off than after taking only one day off. In theory, an hour and a half a week is such a small amount of time that anyone can fit it in, but I have to admit it's been very hard for me to even find that much time since school started.

5) Tracking your miles is very motivating. I used mapmyrun.com, but there are many ways to do this. My plan for next year is to set a mileage goal for the year.

So there you have it--sort of a non-runner's running guide. I still marvel at people who can run marathons, or who take months at a time off and can still go out and run a 5K with ease, or who can have a baby and then a few months later run a half marathon like it's no big deal (Abby and Leah, I'm talking about you!), but at least I can run a little, and I'm in better shape at 36 than I was at 26.

Introverts and Worship

I've been thinking a lot about church worship lately and trying to analyze why I've been so happy at the church I go to that has a very traditional worship service. (And no, that's not my church, that's George Herbert's church in Bemerton, England.) I've come to the conclusion that although I think there are some very good theological reasons for a worship service using a traditional order of worship (an order which most contemporary services don't follow--although they have their own sort of "liturgy" that is the same week after week), that's not the real reason why I don't know if I could transition to a contemporary styled service. After all, I could follow the same model of call to worship, confession, affirmation of the faith, service of the Word, response to God, etc. in my own home and view corporate worship as a chance to worship less formally. I think the real reason I feel uncomfortable in a contemporary styled service is that I am an introvert.

Introversion has been written about more in recent years, perhaps most notably here and here. The theory, as I understand it, is that introverts and extroverts process things differently in the brain, and therefore introverts get overstimulated in loud, people-full environments and need to get away by themselves to process. It seems to me like this idea has implications for worship. Could it be that I like a more reserved approach--without a worship leader and drums--not out of personal preference, but because I get overwhelmed and distracted from worshiping when something is too showy and noisy? Is it possible that my discomfort over someone too overtly expressing their worship with body swaying, hands raised over their heads, etc. is because I'm an introvert and prefer to not have someone so in my face with their internal thoughts? And, by the same token, if extroverts process their thoughts externally, do some extroverts need to sway, lift hands, etc. to feel like they have worshiped? Are they left cold and unmoved by the choral anthem that I find elevates my heart to worship far more deeply and easily than a contemporary chorus, however Biblical its words may be?

I don't know if I'm pegging this right, but it just seems to me that my discomfort in live contemporary worship settings is not a matter of taste. It's not like I'm trying to feel uncomfortable in such places--I'm trying to worship. I just find that I can't. Even if I know the songs and like to sing along when they come on the radio, somehow when they are sung in a roomful of people I start looking longingly at the nearest exit. So if my goal is to worship, and I know and like the songs, it seems like there must be some underlying cause to my discomfort--and my current theory is that it might have something to do with my being an introvert.

Even if I'm right in thinking that my preferences in worship have an underlying cause that is in some way biological, obviously the answer isn't that introverts and extroverts should have different worship services. We are all the same family, children of God, brothers and sisters in Christ. So we need to find some way to make it work. We all need to grow in our worship and learn from one another. But I do hope that the 75% majority of extroverts don't ignore the needs of some of us introverts for reserved, predictable worship services. The kind of places where we are not distracted from focusing on God by the worship leader's showmanship or personality being injected into the service. Where we can think and process and not be made uncomfortable by the unpredictability of what might happen next (are we going to sing the chorus again or end it now?). Where we can in some way be alone with our thoughts even as we are sharing a common worship experience.

Yellow

by Alison Taylor (age 9)

Yellow is a color that makes you feel warm
that makes you feel happy when feelings are worn.
It's the color of popcorn and butter on bread
the color that makes you feel smart in your head.
Yellow is heat on a hot summer's day,
the day that you got invited to play.
It's lions and tigers--but bears are not such.
Their fur is brown and their smiles are not much.
Yellow makes children think happiest thoughts
the day that they fell down or nearly got lost.
Yellow is better than green, blue, or red
cause it makes you  not sick or curled up in bed.
Yellow makes us feel all happy inside
and now you've met yellow--with ME as your guide.

Storing September

September is such a great month. It's often sunny and still warm enough to be outside, but there's a crispness in the air that reminds us that fall and winter will be upon us soon. It's a good month for savoring the last bits of summer and storing up goodness to get us through the cold months ahead. This little poem about September sums it up well.

STORING SEPTEMBER

You ask me what I did today,

I could pretend and say

“I don’t remember.”

But, no, I’ll tell you what I did today--

I stored September.

Sat in the sun and let the sun sink in,

Let all the warmth of it caress my skin.

When winter comes, my skin will still remember

The day I stored September.

And then, my eyes--

I filled them with the deepest, bluest skies

and all the traceries of wasps and butterflies.

When winter comes, my eyes will still remember

The day they stored September.

And then there was cricket song to fill my ears!

And the taste of grapes

And the deep purple of them!

And asters, like small clumps of sky. . .

You know how much I love them.

That’s what I did today

And I know why.

Just simply for the love of it,

I stored September.

-Elizabeth Rooney

This particular September we took a trip back up to the lake house in Michigan to grasp at the last bits of our wonderful summer. We had glorious weather, wonderful food, and precious playtime. What a great way to store up September.

But reality struck when we got home--trials little and big, as I wrote about a few days ago. And it's got me thinking. We never know what's coming up ahead. We might sail along great for a long time, or we might be faced with terrible things tomorrow. Financial disaster. The breakup of a family. A medical diagnosis with life-changing consequences. The death of someone near and dear. If we can store up the wonderful moments of September to get us through the winter, can we also use times of calm to store up something to help us through the storms of life?

I think we can. We can store up relationships, caring for them in the day to day so that in times of stress or busyness they can stand up to a bit of neglect. We can store up Scripture and blessings in a journal to open and read down the road. We can store up happy moments, taking a weekend off to enjoy our lives instead of always trying to do, do, do. We can store up tidbits of knowledge that we don't need yet, but may need soon. We can store up the feel of our child's hand in ours and the smoothness of their skin when they are little. The sound of their mayhem and laughter. The joy of sharing a sunset with someone we love. We can store up all our little glimpses of heaven.

So as I go about these weeks when a dark cloud hangs over me as I watch loved ones struggle and persevere, I don't want to waste these moments. I want to store up things I'll need when I have an opportunity to encourage them, the same things I'll need when my turn in the fire comes. I want to store up all the Septembers of life to get me through the snowstorms of January and the dark sludge of February, until glorious June comes again with its promise of sunny days ahead.

The Rule of Threes

The rule of three in literature tells us that things are more interesting when they come in threes. That's why there are three little pigs, Goldilocks and the three bears, and three blind mice. That's all well and good in the imaginary world of fairy tales, but it also seems to apply to real life in unfortunate ways, at least to me.

In my experience things never break on their own, it's always in a group of three--car/computer/washing machine or microwave/dishwasher/dehumidifier--to mention two examples from our house in the last few years.

This week it's felt like bad news has hit in a group of ten. Things have been going along swimmingly, with only tiny little bumps like a mouse invasion (okay, I'll admit that one was a big enough deal to me that my screams woke the children--but in the grand scheme I realize it's small potatoes) and broken appliances and a schedule that's packed a little too full . . . and then suddenly I've been blindsided with a lot of bad news in one week. Big, life-changing stuff. None of it directly impacts me, but it still weighs on me and gets me down.

Sometimes I have a hard time processing bad news. I want to do something. To fix what's broken. To mend hurting hearts. To make everything all right. The problem is that I can't do that. These things are out of my control, and in this world there's a lot that's broken.

Here's all I have to offer, the plain and simple truth: Jesus can fix anything, and He is in the process of fixing everything. It may not be how we want or when we want, but someday everything that has been broken by sin will be made right. What terrific news! In my better moments I share this news, like the little kid who goes around saying, "don't worry about that broken toy. My dad can fix it!" Sharing that hope makes me more hopeful and sometimes spreads it to others.

So now I share it with you--what I think are the most encouraging words in the whole Bible, and the ones I need to hear today as I go about my day with these heavy burdens on my heart. Maybe they'll encourage you too:

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, 'Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.' And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new. . . . It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.'" (Rev. 21:1-6)

I sure hope your week is going better than mine is, but if not, I hope these words help you refocus your heart like they've helped me refocus mine.

For Those Who Sent Someone to School This Week

This week was back to school for a lot of us. And I just kept being struck by the fact that in all the transitions and send-offs, mom is the one who feels it most. We're the ones who wish we could nurture our babies and help them over every bump and hurdle. We're the ones hiding behind our sunglasses so as not to show our tears. We're the ones left behind, wondering what's next for us now that less of our time is spent in direct contact with our favorite kiddos. 

Did you send somebody to school this week? Whether it was for the first time or the fifteenth, whether it was down the street to kindergarten or across the country to college, you did a brave thing. You probably wished you could hold your baby captive for a little longer, safe and sound in your own home. But you didn't.

You sent them off to fight their own battles. You sent them off to explore new worlds and meet new people. You showed them that you have confidence that they'll do just fine without you. You taught them to do the next thing even if it's a little scary. 

I think that's what motherhood is all about--letting go when we would rather hang on. So pour yourself a cup of tea, shed a few tears about the passing of time if you need to, and give yourself some grace if it takes a few days to get back into the swing of things. Letting go is hard, and you did it!