Sitting on the Front Porch

"Sunshine came softly through my window today." - Donovan

I spent the day with two boys: a 7-year-old and an almost 6-month-old.  Considering that I woke up to thunderstorms, and it rained most of the day, we still had a pretty good day.  We went to the library, played board games, watched a movie, and built various ferocious machines and creatures out of Legos.

Now, though, one boy is back with his parents and the other is sleeping.  Rather than write anything extensive, I think I'm going to spend some quiet time sitting on the front porch, enjoying the sun coming through the trees, the smell of recent rain, and the sound of the birds.

The view from my porch

Community

"If each person is joined to another like a limb is joined to a torso, then there is nothing voluntary or occasional about the relationship." - Norman Wirzba

My friend Katie wrote an excellent blog about the difficulty of being left here.  Her friend Maria responded with a blog about the difficulty of leaving here.  She wrote, "Feeling settled seems like the apex of grown-up life."

Now that I am married with a kid, I feel like I should feel settled.

We have small group tonight.  In our mobile, ever-changing society, my husband and I are working hard to find some stability, to find a place where we feel settled.  Finding and making new friends is difficult, but it is even more difficult to reach the place where, as Norman Wirzba wrote, we are joined together like a limb to a torso.

On the other hand, we follow in the footsteps of our father Abraham who "made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God." (Hebrews 11:9-10)

This is a difficult place to be. Created to be part of a body but with hearts that "are restless until they rest in [God]."

Like so many other aspects of Christianity, our lives in community are paradoxical.  We compulsively search for a place to rest, to be joined to others.  But we will not find that place until the coming of God's kingdom.  Until then, we are probably more like Bob the Blob, part of one body that is constantly being separated and rejoined.

 

Image from Youtube.com

Note: this reference may be a little obscure, but once again I find myself writing the blog while watching random tv shows with a 7-year-old 

The Garden

What the human being shares with nature, what we demand from nature and entrust to nature, what we long for and reject, this may all become song and poetry, or music and philosophy, or myth and religion; but in the visible world it must sooner or later become a garden, if it desires to make itself visible at all; and the achievement of visibility - as distinct from simple thinkability, and understandability - is its most irresistible drive, as an inherent part, like all the creative drives of the human race, of the one primordial drive to give birth to structure. - Rudolf Borchardt, The Passionate Gardener

It is getting to be the busiest part of the gardening seasoning.  Last week I had the first spinach and lettuce, some on a sandwich, some in a salad.  I also used the first fresh parsley in some meatloaf tonight.

I've been reading Wendell Berry lately.  In the stories he tells, getting food out of the ground is really, really hard work.  It is a partnership with a very unreliable partner.  It's the guy who shows up late every time except the one time you show up late.  Then he's early and decides to just go ahead without you.  He's sweet and mellow one day, drawing you in and then raging and destructive the next, throwing your trust back in your face.

Fortunately, I'm not dependent on our garden for my livelihood.  So when it snowed in May, I could just take a chance with the tomato plants and hope they survived the cold night.  When it rained buckets right after we planted the lettuce, I just waited until the lettuce plants came up wherever the seeds had landed and transplanted it back into its rows.

Wendell Berry, Barbara Kingsolver, Michael Pollan, Norman Wirzba, and others have convinced me that food matters.  Where we get our food, how we get our food, and how we eat our food all matter.  I would not describe myself as a passionate gardener, but gardening is a way into the bigger picture for me and for our family.  It reminds me that produce doesn't grow on grocery store shelves.  That food takes time, good food takes more time, and the best food should be eaten slowly and appreciatively.

I hope to think and write more about food, but in the meantime, here are some pictures of my garden!

Broccoli emerging out of the leaves

Knockout roses blooming like crazy

Giving Attention to Your Body

"Then one of the soldiers told him, 'Your father [Saul] bound the army under a strict oath, saying, "Cursed be any man who eats food today!" That is why the men are faint.'

Jonathan said, 'My father has made trouble for the country.  See how my eyes brightened when I tasted a little of this honey.  How much better it would have been if the men had eaten today some of the plunder they took from their enemies." - 1 Samuel 14:28-30a

"When the woman came to Saul and saw that he was greatly shaken, she said, 'Look, your maidservant has obeyed you.  I took my life in my hands and did what you told me to do.  Now please listen to your servant and let me give you some food so you may eat and have the strength to go on your way.'

He refused and said, 'I will not eat.'

But his men joined the woman in urging him, and he listened to them.  He got up from the ground and sat on the couch." - 1 Samuel 28:21-23

This morning I woke up grumpy.  I had an idea of what I was going to do today and found out last night that my plans needed to change.  I don't deal with change very well.  I began to pick a fight with my husband.  Fortunately the words to a song by Gomez came into my head:

"Day to day where do you want to be?  Cause now you're trying to pick a fight with everyone you meet."

I thought, where do I want to be?  What is it that I want so badly to do today?  Really, I just wanted to be grumpy.  And maybe go back to sleep.  But then I remembered Saul.

It seemed like Saul was always trying to deal with difficulties by making ridiculous declarations that he wouldn't eat, that his men wouldn't eat, that anyone who ate would die, and so forth.  However, twice, the Bible records that someone had to talk him down from his ledge and say, "For heaven's sake, Saul.  You'd feel better, I'd feel better, we would all feel better if you would just eat a little bit!"*

So I got up and went running.  Because sometimes mental and emotional problems are really physical problems.  Sometimes you just need to get outside and do something.  Sometimes you need to take a minute and eat something.  Sometimes you need to go to bed earlier.  Sometimes you need to get up earlier.

Sometimes you need to take a step back from whatever difficulty is consuming you and think about your body--what are you not doing that needs to be done for you to be healthy?

I feel a lot better now.  I think it's time to eat something.

Here is a video of the Gomez song, "See the World."

Summer Days

Amos and I had a pretty busy day yesterday.  We read our books.  We went to the grocery store and fought with a wayward cart. We went to the park and looked at the roses in the rose garden and the herbs in the texture and smell garden (with signs in braille--what a cool idea!)  We took naps.  We inspected the plants in our garden at home.  We sat outside and watched the cars drive by.  We sat outside and waited for hubby/daddy to come home.  We went to small group and saw our friends.  It's just like Calvin said, summer days sure go by quickly! 

All that to say, I didn't get to the item on my itinerary yesterday that said, "Write blog."  So today I am following Clara's example (author of Maeve's Momma) and writing first thing in the morning.

This weekend is Memorial Day, which is the unofficial beginning of summer.  I am looking forward to more busy days with Amos: going to the pool, going to the zoo, working in the garden, hanging out with our mom/baby friends, reading, sitting on the front porch.  I just hope we can get everything done!

More About Laundry

Women hold up half the sky. - Chinese Proverb

This morning I read my friend's account of her time in Nicaragua.  It was, of course, filled with all the Big Events, the things that change your life.  Because of that, it seemed a little disjointed.  She would tell a story, skip a few days, tell another story, skip a few months.  A story here, a life-changing experience there.  It just made me think about what her story would be like if she did describe every single day.

Day 1: realized that twenty-five years in America did not teach me anything about living in a third-world country.
Day 2: began to learn how to cook, wash clothes, and communicate in another language.
Day 3: continued to learn how to cook, wash clothes, and communicate in another language.
...
Day 459: getting really good at cooking, washing clothes, and communicating in another language.

Of course there are lots of significant events interspersed between cooking, washing, and communicating, but those three activities are what make up the daily lives of women in third-world countries everywhere.  The availability of food and water impact the difficulty of preparing food and washing clothes.  Some women walk a long ways to get water.  Or take their laundry with them to a source of water.  Some women gather fuel for fire to heat food.  Some work in the fields to grow and harvest food.  Most face dangers on a daily basis--everything from predatory animals in the wild to diseases in impure water to people wishing to inflict harm for a variety of reasons.

Half the Sky by Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn tells the stories of women from all parts of the world and the dangers they face.  When I read the book, I was horrified by the atrocities committed against women all over the world.  It all seemed so foreign and unimaginable to me. When I watched the movie, however, I was struck by the number of scenes shot everywhere from villages in Asia to rivers in Africa to the urban core of overpopulated cities of women doing laundry and cooking food.

Sometimes I feel like all I ever do is wash clothes, fold clothes, put clothes away, plan meals, buy food for meals, prepare meals, clean up after meals, and then start all over again.  Reading my friend's account of her time in Nicaragua reminded me of how those things are not just an inconvenience for most women, keeping them from their "real" work; they are life and death.  These tasks require hard work, stamina, and creativity.  In some cases, they mean facing danger on a daily basis.

My friend's experience reminded me of the stories that women have to tell. Stories of life lived not around the irritating tasks of cooking food and washing clothes, but through those tasks. As I contemplate another giant pile of laundry and sink full of dishes, it is good to remember that women around the world are doing the same thing today.

Surrounded by piles of laundry

What Janet Benefiel Taught Me about The Kingdom of God

The second memorial service for Janet Benefiel was Saturday.  For the service, Dr. Benefiel, Janet's husband, asked me to read a blog I had previously written.  Ron and Janet moved to California two years ago to be near Janet's family as her cancer progressed, but in the time that I got to know them, their example and their willingness to share their life with so many people meant a lot to me.

This blog was originally posted on the Nazarene Theological Seminary student blog page. 

Last spring, I found out that I was pregnant with my first child.  This discovery evoked a lot of emotions, but one of the strongest was fear.  Most miscarriages happen in the first trimester, so I thought if I could make it through those first three months, I would stop being afraid.  Then I heard about a woman who miscarried at six months.  So six months was the goal.  Then a lady in my birthing class told me about the loss of her baby immediately after birth.  Then I learned about sudden infant death syndrome.  I realized pretty quickly that I had started down a path with potential peril at every turn. 

But my story does not begin there.

I met Janet Benefiel early in my seminary career.  She taught the only Sunday School class at my church.  I loved her enthusiasm for the book of Mark, so I began attending regularly.  It quickly became apparent that Janet’s enthusiasm went beyond biblical studies.  She was enthusiastic about organizing group games, thrift store and estate sale shopping, hosting events, and matchmaking the many single people in our church.  But what she was most enthusiastic about was the coming of God’s kingdom.  I had never met anyone who so thoroughly loved life and was yet so excited for the end of the world.

Growing up in the church, I heard lots about heaven and hell.  I knew that the world could end at any moment, so I needed to “get right” with God every chance I had.  Whenever I found myself unexpectedly alone, I considered the possibility that I had missed the rapture.  My ideas of heaven were vague, but the vividness of the sheep and the goats who said, “But when did we see you hungry?” never left my consciousness.  How could this woman who was so joyful possibly pray with such fervor for the terrifying “Day of the Lord” when we would all be separated and most of us likely condemned?  How could she pray that joyous occasions like marriage and children and graduating from seminary would be preempted by some reincarnation of the city of Jerusalem with fancier architecture?

As I listened to Dr. Benefiel and others at NTS talk about the idea of the already/not yet kingdom of God over and over, I began to see what Janet saw.  The joys of this life so often go hand in hand with deep grief.  We experience the kingdom of God in the joys.  Love, joy, and peace are all fruits of that kingdom.  That is the “already” part.  But God’s kingdom has not been fully established on earth.  Sickness, pain, and death are part of the “not yet” where sin still reigns and creation still groans awaiting redemption.

In the midst of the sometimes overwhelming fear I felt during my pregnancy, I forgot this.  One of my classmates counseled me to just trust God with my baby’s life.  But what about all those stories I had heard of miscarriage and stillbirth?  What about those women?  Did they not trust God, I wondered. 

I was mulling over my lack of faith one day in chapel.  Dr. Busic was in the midst of a series on the Lord’s Prayer, and that day’s message was on the phrase, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”  As I contemplated those words, my eyes were opened.  The healthy birth of my child was God’s will!  God and I are on the same side.  It is sin and death that I was pushing against.

As I watched Janet face the cancer spreading in her body, I began to pray with her--not just for the healing of her body, but for the healing of all things.  I don’t know all the details of the future coming of our Lord, but I do know that the redemption of creation does not include stillborn children or the invasion of cancer.  I will miss Janet Benefiel and her enthusiasm for things like Sunday School and Costco, but I rejoice in the knowledge that she clung to—that there is coming a day when death will be no more, when all things will be made right, when we shall know fully even as we are fully known.

Dr. Noble said in one of his classes that the single most important doctrine pastors can teach their congregations is the already/not yet kingdom.  As I witnessed Janet’s longing and hope for the coming of God’s kingdom in the midst of her cancer and her complete confidence in ultimate victory over the grave, I cannot agree more.  At the birth of my healthy child, I rejoiced in the already, in the way God’s kingdom is present on earth and leaks through the cracks from time to time.  But I can also face my son's future with the certainty that no matter what perils lie ahead, God's kingdom will ultimately be victorious.

 

Ron and Janet at our wedding in 2011.

Peaches and Laundry

Nothing for it but to do it. - Me

I don't really know where I came across that phrase.  Maybe I made it up.  Maybe I heard it from some resident of southern Indiana. I do know when it became an important phrase to me: when I was picking peaches as a summer job.

Every weekday, all summer, I got up in the morning and drove twenty minutes to a peach orchard.  I sat by the barn in the center of the orchard and waited for the owner to give me my assignment for the day.  Sometimes I got to drive the trucks and deliver peaches.  Mostly, though, I just picked peaches.  From eight in the morning until about four or five in the afternoon.  I was not particularly skilled or fast at picking peaches, and the job only lasted a few summers.

One particularly hot afternoon, probably in late July, I began picking in a new row.  I looked down that seemingly unending row of trees, thick with ripe peaches, and I felt tired.  I looked at my watch to see how much time was left in the day.  Way too much, I'm sure.  I realized I could either stand there for the next three hours or I could pick some peaches.  As I started down the row, I told myself, "Nothing for it but to do it."  That became my theme as the summer went on.  One more row, one more tree, one more peach.

Now, after the anxiety of the approaching end of the semester, the excitement of graduation, and the exhaustion that followed, I find myself yet again looking at a long row of ripe peaches, only this time, the task ahead of me is laundry.  And dishes.  And feeding the baby, dressing the baby, changing the baby's diapers, clothing the baby, putting the baby to sleep.  Again, there's nothing for it but to do it.

I am tempted to play the "if only" game.  If only my church would hire me.  If only I had another class to take.  If only I lived in Indiana, closer to my family.  If only our car was not in the shop and I had a vehicle.

But in truth, I actually liked picking peaches most of the time.  I liked being outside.  I liked seeing the miracle of tasty, juicy peaches emerging from among the leaves.  I liked the people I worked with.  I liked driving the trucks through the orchard and around the area, delivering peaches.

And I like having a baby.  He's pretty much the cutest thing ever.  And I don't hate laundry or dishes.  More importantly, I like having clean clothes and clean plates.  It is not the tasks themselves that are so difficult; it is the fear that nothing will ever change.  That this row will last forever, that this day will last forever, that this stage of life will last forever.

One of my friends reminded me the other day of the need for mindfulness, of being present.  The title of Eugene Peterson's excellent book comes to mind: A Long Obedience in the Same Direction.  Eventually the end of peach season comes.  (All the peaches never get picked; you just move on.)  Eventually, I will have other opportunities, other jobs, and a baby who walks.

In the meantime, I will wash one more set of sheets, put one more spoon in the dishwasher, and feed the baby one more time.

I will also enjoy watching the mama robin who has built a nest in the hanging plant on our porch.  I will listen to Adrian Plass (thanks, Mom!) and laugh as he delivers the announcements and prays over cabbage.  I will read The Hunger Games all day without feeling guilty about what I should be reading instead.  I will make up endless verses about exactly what Old MacDonald's farm contained.  I will get together with friends and play games, and I will plan parties on the back patio.  I will play ultimate frisbee every Saturday afternoon and cherish the opportunity to run around in the sunshine with friends (and hopefully win more often than not).

As they say, "Nothing for it but to do it."

Gratitude

Thanksgiving is the power that transforms desire and satisfaction, love and possession, into life, that fulfills everything in the world, given to us by God, into knowledge of God and communion with him. - Alexander Schmemann

Today is my husband's birthday, which is a good time to remember how thankful I am for him. I fell in love with him almost as soon as I met him, and I couldn't believe it when we started dating eight months later.  I was so in awe of him then--his ability to listen so fully to others, his knowledge of so many things, his fearlessness when confronted, his strength to carry the burdens of so many as they poured out their hearts to him, his childlike joy at the silliest things, and his impeccable taste in music and paint colors.

Now that we have been married for just over two years, almost exactly three years from when we started dating, I still can't believe how lucky I am.  I remain in awe of him.  He is a wonderful husband and such a loving father to our baby boy.  He changed every diaper for at least the first two weeks after the baby was born.  He got up in the middle of the night with him.  He soothed him when he cried.  He tactfully turned away visitors I didn't feel up to seeing. I don't know what I would have done without his calm in the midst of the storm of life with a newborn.

I am grateful for the blessing that he is in my life and I look forward to celebrating a lot more birthdays with him.

Graduation

"Higher education serves a crucial common good in fostering breadth, depth, complexity, and richness in all dimensions of social, cultural, political, and economic life.  What is ultimately the most important question about college education is, therefore, not what students can 'do with it,' in immediate and practical terms, but rather what college education does to its students deeply and broadly.  It is about expanding people's horizons and depths of understanding, engaging students with the big questions that matter most in life, giving them tools to think and learn and communicate well, and passing on the richness of scientific and humanistic inquiry and understanding.

...

The most important payoffs of college education do not concern career promotions and higher salaries.  They have to do with forming thoughtful, critical, appreciative, careful, capable, and interesting family members, neighbors, citizens, workers, leaders, teachers, artists, researches, and friends.  In short, the truly important product of higher education is better people not bigger promotions and paychecks. " - Christian Smith, Lost in Transition

Sunday's graduation marked the end of a significant stage of life for me.  The above quotation from Christian Smith's book about the lack of vision for education that has been past down to the generation he calls "emerging adults" has stuck with me since I read it last fall for an anthropology course.

When I announced the completion of my final paper on Facebook, someone congratulated me, saying that "my hard work had paid off."  My first thought was, "How has it paid off?"  I don't have a job in my field or otherwise.  I am struggling to find ways to participate in my church.  My education makes me overly critical of what happens but has not opened any doors to participation beyond the same opportunities available to someone who has been attending for a few months.  I am now among the increasingly bitter, over-educated, under-employed young adults.

However, Christian Smith's conviction that education is about more than a job, about more than what it can do for me has challenged my tendency toward bitterness.  Education is a gift.  The ability to think critically, to understand complex ideas, to experience the world through the lens of others as I read--these things have the potential to bring forth joy as I experience the world.  And, as Christian Smith said, they make me a better wife and mother, neighbor and congregant.

I am looking forward to what opportunities may come my way, some inevitably as a result of my education.  But for now, a few days out from graduation, I am looking forward to reading more fully some of the works I've come across during my time in seminary, to going to the zoo with the baby on sunny days, to connecting with friends and sharing what I have learned and am continuing to learn.  I am looking forward to enjoying the freedom that comes with Paul Ricoeur's "second naivete,"  which the graduation speaker encouraged us to embrace, moving beyond the "desert of criticism" to be "called again."

What Are You Waiting For?

"...if you used to love writing, painting, dancing, singing, whatever, but you stopped doing it when you had kids or began a strenuous career, then you have to ask yourself if you are okay about not doing it anymore." - Anne Lamott (Facebook post)

I am currently watching Camp Rock, a Disney original movie, starring Demi Lovato.  I just finished Lemonade Mouth, the story of a high school band that formed in detention.  These are the choices of my 10-year-old niece (who just handed me a personalized, handmade duct tape bracelet). She is here with her grandparents for the weekend.  And even though I have to admit that I kind of like those cheesy Disney musical movies, this is a preview of my future.  Eventually the baby will stop sleeping for most of the day and lying around while he is awake.  Eventually he is going to take a LOT of time and attention.

Writing is not necessarily the thing that I most want to do with my life, but as this blog-writer says about her cycling hobby, "Cycling is one of the few pre-children identity-holdovers that I've kept since becoming a mother." Writing is that hobby for me right now.  (Ultimate frisbee is another pre-children hobby, but I can't help feeling like it might not last all that long.  Also it is highly dependent on the weather.)

Well, I'm pretty into this Camp Rock movie, so I'm done writing, and I might be done for the weekend.  But I will be back at it on Monday.  Because, as Anne Lamott wrote, "What are you waiting for?"

PS You should follow Anne Lamott on Facebook.  She writes great stuff!

The Internet Made Me Do It

Over the past few weeks, I've been contemplating post-graduation life.  Most of my life will continue on unchanged.  I will still be a stay at home mom.  I will still be married to the most wonderful man in the world.  I will still spend a good part of my day at home, keeping the baby in his routine and doing miscellaneous chores.  Hopefully, the weather will eventually turn warm and sunny, and we can go to the zoo sometimes but mostly life will continue on as before.

However, even though my life will not change that much after Saturday, as long as I was in school, that was what I was Doing. 

As in,

"What do you Do?" 

"I'm a student." 

What is my answer to that question now?  Being a stay at home mom is perfectly acceptable.  But I want my life to be bigger than the 1500 square feet of my house.  I want to think about Things.  I want to have Ideas.  At the minimum, I want to be able to talk about more than today's guest on Ellen, that cool thing on Pinterest, and the color of my baby's poop, so people will still invite me to their parties.

The Internet, in all its wisdom, directed me here, back to my long-neglected blog.  First I saw a link that my friend Emily posted on Facebook to an essay called Why You Should Write Daily.  The author didn't suggest that you might suddenly become a famous author with a movie deal if you write everyday.  Rather, he wrote things like,

• "Writing helps you reflect on your life."
• "Writing clarifies your thinking." 
• "Writing is a good skill to have in our digital age."

And other such mundane things. I realized that any fool could put a few words on a page.  And if nothing else, writing regularly will make me more articulate and give me one more skill to bring to whatever challenges come my way.

Even more exciting, he wrote: "Writing regularly forces you to solve the very important problem of where to get ideas."

I appreciate that he classified finding ideas as A Very Important Problem. He suggested that the solution is to pay attention.  I am hoping that writing regularly will help me pay attention--to the articles I read in magazines and on Facebook, to both the funny and profound things people say, to the tedium and wonder of being a mom, to surprisingly good recipes, and to whatever else crosses my path.

I have written what I was told to write in response to what I was told to read for the last four years.  Now, I have the wonderful gift of creative license.  I can write about anything I want!  I can learn about anything I want!  The overwhelming feeling that produces in me is captured by one of my favorite comics ever, here. I especially like these two frames*:

What will happen now?  Will I write about wookies and mermaids? Will I write about ontology and epistemology? We'll see, but no matter what, I will write something.

The internet had more to say on this topic, which I will reference on another day (probably tomorrow).  But for now, what I am Doing is writing.  Not because I will ever be a great novelist and not because I can't not write.  But because I want to be a better person.  I want to think about things beyond the four walls of my house.  And I want to stick my mitt out and catch some of those things.



*This whole comic is funny and spot on.  Another great line: "We need to add comments to EVERY page on our website to create a community because ... community!"

The End of Deadlines

"I love deadlines and the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." - Douglas Adams

"Good instincts usually tell you what to do long before your head has figured it out." - Michael Burke

I love deadlines and the whooshing sound they make, but I don't let them fly by. When a paper is due, at the last moment, something inside me takes over and suddenly, I spring into action.  The reading and the lectures begin to coalesce into something like an idea.  I write, stop and think, read, check out some other sources, write some more, think some more, etc. until a ten or twenty page paper begins to take shape, 3,000 or 5,000 words emerge out of my fingertips.  As the clock ticks away and the deadline nears, I nervously watch the word count approach the goal.

I wrote my last paper a few days ago and attended my last class yesterday.  I suddenly find myself without deadlines.  Of course the laundry needs to be done, the house cleaned, food cooked, and the baby fed.  All of those have to be done eventually.  But I am never frantically washing dishes, watching the clock on the wall as it approaches midnight.  And when the dishes are done, they are the same old dishes.  Nothing is created.  Nothing new emerges out of seemingly random pieces that were smashed together under pressure.

The whole process feels like that split second in baseball when you see the ball come off the bat and head in a line drive straight toward you.  You don't stop to contemplate why the ball is heading towards you, the socially appropriate response to the ball, or what the ball may be thinking about you.  You just act.  Long before your head has figured out what to do, you throw up your glove in front of your face and catch that ball.

I am going to miss the pressure of a deadline, the whooshing sound it makes as it almost flies by, and the thrill of sticking out my mitt at the last minute and catching it.