new year's resolutions

Every year I contemplate making resolutions, and after the new year arrives, I still haven't put a list together and then it's too late. I recall making a handful of post hoc resolutions based on what I had or hadn't already done (calisthenics) or consumed (dessert, pop--or soda/coke depending on your geographic location) that particular year. Oh, the resolutions of yore!

These days I think realistic resolutions might read something like this:
1. Finish reading a half dozen books I've started.
2. Try to exercise more regularly (key word is "try" here, people).
3. Show up 1-4 minutes late to children's appointments rather than 5-7 minutes late.
4. Try to start and finish laundry on designated laundry days (again, key word is "try.")

To be honest, I have mixed thoughts about New Year's resolutions. On the one hand, I love fresh starts. Each morning holds potential, every new week shows promise. On the other hand, it seems trivial to come up with some ways to improve myself that I might intentionally or unintentionally dismiss as February thaws to March--if I make it that far. What's worse is the false notion that I control my destiny: if I have enough will and muster enough determination, I can accomplish anything.

The truth is I can't do anything apart from my Father, and he knows full well how pathetic my resolve is despite my best intentions. But it doesn't mean I should be satisfied with the status quo, particularly when it comes to my spiritual life.

I've recently been struck by the connection between grace and gratitude. In her book Living into Commmunity, Christine Pohl writes, "If we really understand our lives as redeemed by costly grace, then our primary response can only be gratitude. It's at the center of Christian life." Remembering Christ's sacrifice postures me in humble gratitude and awe.

I want that attitude today. Tomorrow. All year. If I could write and keep one resolution this year, this would be it: ponder God's grace and grow in gratitude. 

replacing my to-do list

My oldest has been asking to "do school" for months. I'm not sure if it's because he has had to field questions from strangers about whether he has started school (he just turned 4, people!), or he recognizes school is the most direct route to adulthood (4 going on 24 as far as he's concerned). I suspect it was heightened when he witnessed me thumping a pair of red scissors, a pack of construction paper, some finger paints, and a few other miscellaneous items in the bottom of the shopping cart a couple months back.

His persistence paid off. Shrugging off the what-the-"h"-am-I-doing and the I'm-gonna'-ruin-my-child-for-life anxieties, we started "school" the Tuesday after Labor Day. Though it took him some time to get over the disappointment that school wasn't all about finger paints and cutting with a scissors, we have settled into a routine. And there's no turning back now. Because once you start letters and sounds, you can't really stop; when you hit the teens in counting, the twenties are right around the corner. Lord, help me.

Though the amount of time we spend doing school is minimal, I've already noticed the floors are a little stickier, the meals not quite as nice. Opening cupboards is a reminder of more to-do's: take out the trash, make a batch of laundry soap, bake more bread.

A friend commented, "I wish some homeschool mom would write a book about all the things she gave up." Though I wouldn't consider myself a homeschool mom (I'm trying that hat on this year), the thought resonated in my heart. It's hard to give up tidy counters and shipshape bathrooms for little ones who enjoy unrolling toilet paper on the floor, smudging windows and fresh paint alike, and squeezing tubes of toothpaste into the bath tub. But if I'm going to thrive in motherhood, let the re-prioritizing begin.

First thing off my list: making laundry soap. Out with grating the Kirk's Natural castile soap; in with the Ecos laundry detergent.

I feel armed to tackle the world already. Okay, maybe just the bathrooms...tomorrow.

write what you know

Much has changed since my last post...over 6 months ago. I marched into a new decade, added another little guy to our troop, we sold our house and are buying a new one.

I like to think that's the reason why I haven't been blogging lately, and it's true. Partially anyway. The bigger reason why is I don't think I have much to write about of value. I stay home full time with my children, and while I realize it is a HUGE responsibility and privilege, it's also a conversation killer. No, seriously.

(Dinner party scene. Moon-shaped clusters of people converse between sips of Pinot Noir and polite bites of crusty French bread topped with smoked gouda.)
Me: (turn to a newcomer) What brings you to the area?
Other: I'm a graduate student at the University.
Me: (food in mouth) What are you studying?
Other: (confidently rehearsed) I finished up my M.D. at Johns Hopkins, and now I'm working on my PhD specializing in pediatric cardiology transplants. How about you? What do you do?
Me: (brushing crumbs from my chest and spot a new red stain next to a faint spit-up one I apparently didn't wipe off well enough) I stay home full time with our children.
Other: (bewildered) Oh.
(Awkward pause. Newcomer turns to talk to someone else, so I do the same.)

Though the scene more commonly occurs in some public place of business or meeting a new person at church (not everyone I meet is working on a PhD), it has essentially the same effect: unless I'm talking to a fellow sister in the trenches, no one asks a follow-up question.

I was reminded of a famous expression to "write what you know" this past week, and I've decided to embrace the experiences God has given me as fodder for my writing. Though I'm not pursuing a PhD in pediatric cardiology transplants, I know sacrifice and sleep deprivation. I know diapers, dishes. I know laundry--piles of it. I know boys. I know messes and mercy. I know fear of failure, fear of man. I know love, loss, worry. I know joy. Hope. And I know Christ--in part, not yet whole.

legalistic Panem

About two months ago I finished The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins, and it was such an interesting premise for a series, I continued to think about the characters and themes well after I returned the books to a friend.  ***spoiler alert***

One of Katniss Everdeen's most prominent inner struggles is her fear of indebtedness to others--Peeta for the bread which saved her and her family, Thresh for saving her life in the arena, Gale for providing in her absence, Peeta for loving her. Living under the authority of Panem and in the wake of her father's death (who died at the hand of Panem's poor working conditions), Katniss prizes self sufficiency and feels guilty when anyone shows her a measure of kindness she cannot repay. 

Katniss has a classic case of debtor's ethic, conditioned by the legalism Panem promotes by constantly reminding its citizens that they offended the law and must pay via sacrificing their children, their resources, and their happiness. It is a legalism Katniss cannot shake...until she experiences a faithful love.

Enter Peeta. He provides an enduring love for Katniss when she fakes her love for him, uses him for personal gain, and rejects him over and over. Though his character is obviously flawed (and he experiences turbid times under The Capitol's control), he grows into a Christ-like figure in the series as he sacrifices himself for his bride and loves her more than she deserves. 

Panem's legalism reflects the same lie Satan tells us: Christ's sacrifice is not enough. We need to do a little extra to help God along or put ourselves in his good favor; and since we can never repay him, Satan holds us hostage with our guilt and sense of indebtedness. 

It is no surprise Katniss grows to love Peeta again by the end of the third book because he never stops quietly caring for her. She experiences the promise of hope through his steadfast love--a hope legalism can never extend.

"and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."  -Romans 5:5 (ESV)

summer reflection

I fell off my writing routine this summer, desiccated and shriveled by the heat, my responsibilities, and another little one making his/her presence known a la nausea, exhaustion, etc. Now I'm back, and autumn's colors are a few short weeks from brown drab. Reflecting on summer is a reminder of the blessing of God's good gifts.

Here are a few summer highlights for your viewing:

We picked strawberries when we visited family this summer, lovely juicy strawberries. Large bags of them still greet me when I open the basement chest freezer to remind me the temperatures have probably cooled down enough to make that batch of strawberry jam. Smaller bags will enjoy a much less time-consuming end with pancakes, in smoothies, on ice cream.

 No summer is complete without a batch of pesto...or in my case, a few double batches. We ate some fresh with homemade bread, on sandwiches, with pasta, on grilled pizza, and plain by the spoonful. The other containers are ushered to the freezer to use later for any of the above purposes, or one of our favorites: pesto chicken pizza. A warm reminder in the colder months gardening season will return soon.

A friend gave me the idea for jalapeno poppers this spring, and we grew a jalapeno and an Anaheim pepper plant in our garden this summer. Both peppers were abundant, so we grilled a fair share of jalapeno and Anaheim poppers. Directions: cut pepper in half the long way and remove (or don't remove) seeds depending on your heat preference, fill the cavity with cream cheese, wrap with bacon and grill until done.

These little men keep growing. Per the picture, the older is a serious young man, 3 going on 33. Just this morning he packed a "lunch" (wooden pizza--yum!), put his shoes on and asked for the keys and money to drive to work. To his credit the money was change for washing the car. The younger is playful and independent, our silent little wanderer who still enjoys cuddle time, lots of hugs, and his thumb. (JN - 2, CA - 1)


The Accountant and I enjoyed date nights at home in the summer: put the boys to bed early, grill something delicious (steak is a usual suspect), prepare some greens from our garden, and sit on the deck watching the sunset. It's glorious, and if we ever move, I might stipulate we have a deck with a sunset view. On this particular occasion, we also dined on homemade French bread with a garlic and cracked pepper olive oil for dipping. And a glass of wine.

outsider art

Yesterday evening I enjoyed a conversation with my beloved which piqued some reflection about my identity. I've often considered myself a "jack of all trades but a master of none"; in essence, no one really knew what to do with me: the jocks received me as a left-side hitter and forward only, the intellectuals were suspicious of me until I sat next to them in literature and philosophy classes, and the artists tolerated my non-vibrato alto and amateur photography skills.

Even though I was welcomed into various circles, I quickly got the sense I didn't belong--and often not on account of its members. Belonging to a group often required an emphasis on certain characteristics and a subsequent reduction of others. At the door of acceptance, I flashed my credentials and with a nod was asked to abandon the undesirables to enter.

I've been contemplating the Creator-creation relationship in conjunction with my outsider status, and I realize that every group or human relationship I entrust my identity to will leave me marred because the holders don't truly know or love me in the way my Maker does. There is a special relationship between an artist and his work that cannot be replicated in even a marriage or close familial bond.

The Artist knows every detail, imperfection, and strength of his work, and the art he makes does not reflect its own glory or take pride in the reviews of critics. The art reflects the creativity, purpose, and love of its Creator; I take comfort in knowing I will never understand the mysteries of others, nor will they ever fully understand mine. They are reserved for the Artist.

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."

-Psalm 139: 13-14 (ESV)

social media alert

I must confess I don't often like how I feel after checking facebook, pinterest, or other social media; it's like awkward junior high, minus the raging hormones.

Right now I am going through Tim Keller's "Fruit of the Spirit" Bible study with several women; last week's lesson focused on walking by the spirit, looking at the following passage:

"If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, provoking one another, envying one another" (Galatians 5: 25-26).

As we were discussing, it occurred to me that much of social media plays on these two forms of conceit: provoking and envying.

Provoking scenario: I enjoy a good life with many blessings from the Lord, so I post about it to boost my pride (because clearly I helped God in providing them), show off my beautiful, happy-without-problems family, and often provoke others in the process.  I am amazing, mind you.

Envying scenario: I feel dissatisfied with my life and struggle with discontentment, so I read about the lives of others to escape and feel like mine isn't quite up to snuff; the posts (or pictures) feed my bitterness and sense of injustice that the Lord gave me a "bad lot in life." I am a victim.

I'm guilty as charged, multiple counts of both forms.

It's easier to associate conceit with provocation; the connection is much more blatant, and the offenders are easily identifiable; however, envy is a silent conceited killer. It lurks deep in the heart, cloaks itself as Humility, and leads to feeling beaten down, not good enough: Satan has his foothold.

Keeping in step with the Spirit should serve as a "heart check" button for Christians using social media. Christ's sacrifice humbles us to recognize our need and secures us in fulfilling our every need. Yeah, we have an app for that: the gospel.