On Sin and Motherhood

Yesterday, we entered in to a new phase of parenting. We discovered one of our children (who shall remain nameless) had been lying to us in a pretty significant way. It was calculated. It had been going on for a long time. It was deceptive and perhaps worst of all, she had encouraged her younger friend to join her in the “fun”. [Don’t worry, we aren’t at the level of selling drugs on the corner yet, but the details aren’t important for this blog purposes.]

 

I was shocked. I knew kids lied and sinned, but there is something in every mother that mistakenly believes not my kid or at least not in that way. The good news was this unmentioned child was pretty broken by her actions. She started down the path so many of us do when we are found out: I’m the worst daughter ever. You can punish me for the rest of my life. You can have the object (an iPod) that caused my sin. It was a bit on the melodramatic side. But, I am finding, that is where 8 year old girls tend to land.

So as I was processing through it all, I was ready to pounce, but thankfully, I have a wise and even tempered husband whom I found rocking her in the back room, speaking softly and quietly to her. He told her about relationships and about trust and how slowly it is earned and how quickly it is lost. He calmly explained to her how lies breaks relationships, how when we are hiding things from one another, we can’t have the fullness of fellowship. He told her about the importance of being an example to our friends and to lead them towards right and wise decisions. He displayed not only an earthly daddy who loved his little girl and wanted to guide her back on the path of righteousness, but also and more importantly, a heavenly one.

[Years ago, this unmentioned child and her daddy on a different kind of path]

Well, I’m not as calm and even-tempered as that man of mine. In my mind, I was thinking through my own melodrama: How could she do this? How did I not know? Didn’t I teach her better than this? Which launched into my own path of mommy guilt of epic proportions: I’m such a failure. What kind of mom doesn’t know there kid is doing something for this long? I should lose my mothering privileges. I should have been more aware. [She gets it from her mama…apparently.]

I wish I could say I started praying immediately, but instead I launched into self-righteous indignation. And then God hit me. I knew my kids would never be without sin. My favorite quote by a favorite author, Sally Clarkson, is “your kids will stop sinning when you stop sinning.” My child’s sin quickly revealed my own. I was not so much expecting, but I was undoubtedly wanting perfection in my children’s behaviors. But here was a kid crying, broken, and whirling in the emotions that can accompany sin: guilt, depression, feelings of failure and worthlessness.

And God spoke so clearly to me in that moment, in such a way that I think every mama needs to hear it:

Our goal as parents isn’t sinless kids, because that is impossible. Our goal as parents should be kids who know what to do with their sin.

So I took note of my husband’s wise ways and got down low with a sad little girl. I held her close because so often when our sin is revealed, we feel so so far from all the things we love. And we began a long discussion of what do we do with our sinful souls. We talked about Paul and how he too struggled with doing what he knew was right all the time. We talked about Jesus and how he was tempted to go against God’s will for Him and how He stood up to Satan’s attempts to force Him down a path of disobedience. We talked about how God always gives us a way out in our temptations to do wrong. We talked about how no matter what, if we have trusted Christ wholly and completely, He has fully forgiven all our sins: past, present and future. We discussed repentance and confession. We began the long and arduous road of helping this young disciple to deal with her sin.

There is a perfectionist that rages inside of me. She doesn’t want her kids to do wrong. Ever. She doesn’t want herself to do wrong. Ever. Slowly but surely, she is being broken down too and learning through teaching the souls entrusted to her that sin will indeed come, but it is all a matter of what you do with it that matters.

How about you? What has your kid’s sin taught you?

Here’s to #parentinggoals.

Until next time,

-C.

The Year of ENOUGH

(Note: This picture has nothing to do with the blog that follows. It's just awesome and that is enough.)

Already, another year has begun. And every New Year brings a promise of a fresh start. We resolve this is the year. This is the one where we are healthier, smarter, more confident, more organized, more together versions of ourselves and every year, we fail. Again. Usually a few weeks after those resolutions are made. I quit making them years ago but instead have moved to choosing one word. Just a single word, one God and I come up with and together, we work towards. There has been the year of JOY, the year of PRESENCE, the year of UNDIVIDED and then it came time to pick a word for this year. Even with just one word, I found myself in a constant struggle. A cycle of failing. The exercise isn’t meant to produce that kind of thinking, but every time, I undoubtedly found myself struggling to find JOY, PRESENCE, and UNDIVISION. And I even considered forgoing the whole ONE WORD exercise again this year…but, then it hit me.

Growth always comes from struggle. Focusing on one single word for God to hone and cultivate in me wasn’t working as well as I’d hoped because often times it became a resolution in disguise. Just be more joyful, Catherine. Just be more present, Catherine. Just be more undivided, Catherine. These were things that I could never just be more of, but they were areas that He needed to prune in me and purify. Every new word, He always presented opportunities. Opportunities to choose joy instead of despair, to be present instead of disengaged, and to be undivided instead of scattered. Sometimes I chose correctly and sometimes I didn’t. But the exercise of the spiritual will to go to my Father with that word was what strengthened me and changed me and molded me a little better than I was before. That is what fancy theologians refer to as sanctification, the act of becoming a bit more like Jesus.

So this year has come and the question has been, what shall be my word? Last year felt frenzied and frenetic. It wasn’t overwhelmingly sad or happy, it was blurry and unremarkable in so many ways because the speed of which I lived left little room for memory making or soaking up the moment. It had hard moments, but I can’t even pinpoint them. It left me numb more than anything because I just.dont.know. what happened. When water levels rise and you feel like you’re flailing, recollections are the first things to go. It wasn’t a bad year, don’t get me wrong. It just was. And I’ve come to the conclusion that life is too precious and too short to have just was years. They need to be good and hard mixed together, bitter and sweet. Because the hard makes the good taste so much sweeter. It has to be a mix.

But when we pace ourselves on the hamster wheel at such a rate that we can’t even see anything, it’s too much. It’s time to step back and do some deep soul wrestling with God on how we make this a year we can taste and feel, even if it is challenging at times.

What word could encapsulate all I need God to teach and grow me in this year? I kept thinking how 2015 was just too much. It was too much on the calendar. Too much stuff as evidenced by a house busting at the seams with clutter. Too much go, go, going. But it was also not sufficient either. There wasn’t enough time to do all the things I had planned to do last year. Not enough memories made with my people because work and life just moved at a neck breaking speed. It was loud and noisy most of the time, there weren’t very many moments of silence. We were plugged in more than we should’ve been and there wasn’t any whitespace.

I said too many yeses.

I gave too much in some ways.

I felt like I didn’t give like I should’ve in others.

I was tired. Dizzy. Discombobulated.

There is a great Proverb that talks about these extremes. It says, “Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say, ‘Who is the Lord?’ Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God.” (Proverbs 30:8-9)

It’s talking about money, but its application runs much broader and deeper. When we are dealing with having too much: too much on our calendars, in our headspace, with our commitments and obligations, we start to disown God. We start to say “Who is the Lord?” because we don’t have time to find out, we forget that He is our sustainer of all our yeses and calendar and to do lists. We quit consulting Him and we trick ourselves into believing that we are the creator and maintainer of our world. It all relies on me. I am the master juggler and it is all my duty to keep all the balls in the air. But inevitably, they all come tumbling down and we learn the truth. Often times at the expense of our pride and our health.

But then there is the other extreme. The one in which we don’t seem to have quite what we need. Deficient on time we begin to steal it, usually from the people to whom we owe it the most—our spouse, our kids, our friends. We lack the margin to refresh and renew and so we take away the hours of the night meant to rest our weary bodies and build them afresh for the next day. And in doing so, we dishonor our God because the problem is the same as when we had too much: we think we are in control of our destinies and fulfilling our needs so thievery becomes a justified solution.

This year, I needed a word that dealt with both extremes because I am an extreme kind of girl. I’m all or nothing. 150 miles at hour or a screeching halt. There isn’t much in between with this one.

Enough.

I need 2016 to be the year of just enough. No more. No less.

I need to know that right now, as I am, it.is.enough. I need to be able to say to others, “hey, here is what I have to offer right now.” And let it be enough. I need to turn my eyes from always wanting more and more and let what I have be enough. I need to let Jesus be the source of my emotional state and for that to be enough. I need to be able to say no sometimes, without loquacious explanations and that be enough. I need to say “that’s a great idea! I’ll pray for and support you in the pursuit of that.” Without putting my hands on anything and let that be enough. I need to focus my energies and my talents on the things that set a fire to my soul and let that be enough. I need to be able to say “I want to spend time with you friend in my messy house without a spread of well thought out snack fare.” And that be enough. I need to have the faith of a little boy with a drum, offering what he can or a widow, with just two pennies to her name, putting it all in. Small offerings in the scheme, but everything they had to offer in the moment. That is what the year of enough must be.

I hesitate when I write these words because I know it automatically can get interpreted as a cry to stop asking for me to be a part of so many wonderful and inspiring opportunities. That isn’t what the year of enough is about. It isn’t saying no to everything that comes across my path. It’s about tempering my yeses with that which is available in my reservoir. God has been very clear with me on this year and the things He has for me. In some ways, it looks like more being added to my seemingly overfilled plate. But that’s not the case. He simply revealed to me the things that He has built me for. Three passions I have that I must filter my yeses through this year. If the question doesn’t relate to one of the three, then it will be too much. Enough is a balancing act of epic proportion because our individual “enoughs” are so specific to how we are built. I’ve realized my threshold is perhaps greater than most in some areas and lesser than most in others. It’s handing my puzzle pieces to God and letting Him fit them together in a way that is completely unique to me and me alone.

The year of ENOUGH is about letting the words Paul heard from the Lord thunder deep down in my soul, “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” So then, I will boast most gladly about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may reside in me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

His grace is it. It’s enough. It fills in all my gaps. He gives just what I need to do just what He has. All the time I need. All the resources I need. Everything. He gives just enough.

And God is able to make all grace overflow to you so that because you have enough of everything in every way at all times, you will overflow in every good work. (2 Corinthians 9:8)

I wonder if you’re searching for a word this year. If you’re tired of resolving and failing, resolving and failing. Maybe this is your year for just what you need, no more, no less.

Here’s to the year of enough!

Until next time,

-C.

Do you do “one word”? If so, what’s your word this year?

On the Church and Refugees

Dear American Christian Church,

Oh how I hesitate to even pen these words. Because I know we are all a little braver in the sanctity of our homes, hiding behind the glow of a computer screen. I know these conversations need to be had in person more so than through the internet, but I also know we have to take the time to shine light when darkness threatens to prevail. And I know God has uniquely positioned me these past three years, for such a time as this, as someone with a heart and a passion for the voiceless persecuted people from around the world. Three years ago, I entered the world of refugee resettlement as a volunteer. I’ve gotten an education in a process that I knew nothing about before having stepped in and working with local refugees from Burma. I’ve been able to take my passion and draw others into this world, helping those who have endured so much rebuild their lives in my community.

But then, a cataclysmic event happen. One that shook our foundations because it is heinous in nature and brought back memories of an ordinary September day over a decade ago. Fear from those whose main objective is to incite terror has officially overtaken our Facebook feeds. But we, the Church, stand at a place where many have stood before. You see, we stand at a crossroads of sorts, a place where some of those we consider great, once stood. Charles Spurgeon. William Wilberforce. John Wesley. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Ralph Abernathy. Christians who all had to decide what side of history they were going to stand on when things got tough. Because you see, what we are facing right now, is really our bread and butter, what those before us experienced as well: how to love when it is hard, unpopular, and downright scary.

Over 50 million people are forcibly displaced all over the world right now. Fifty. Million. Of those, about 19.5 million are refugees—those who are outside their country of nationality and can’t return due to a well-founded fear of persecution because of his or her race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a particular social group.  Of that 19.5 million, more than half are children. This year, the crisis sweeping many countries across the globe, emerged a new leader in the country with the most refugees: Syria. Over 3.5 million Syrians have fled the persecution and terror that is ripping their homeland to shreds.

Just a few short weeks ago, we as the Church watched a little boy’s dead body wash ashore and we were moved to do something. I was so proud to watch American Christianity emerge as a leader in the forefront of fundraising and getting supplies to those flowing across the borders of Europe in hopes of peace and stability. So many of you had your heart moved so deeply to action. But my, what a difference just a few days can make. Last week, terror struck, and those same rallying forces suddenly became frightened and frigid in its response. Calls to stop allowing the persecuted in have been flooding my feed. And I can’t sit by idly and watch anymore, because while I don’t expect the unbelieving world to do what is right, I do expect the bride of Christ to.

Christian, lean in and hear me on this: you do not want to be on the wrong side of this historical issue because our God is going to hold accountable His Church. We have a Holy standard to uphold and we cannot err on the side of party lines or nationalism—we must err on the side of Jesus.

First, the question must be asked. What do you know about the refugee resettlement process in America and across the globe? Because I’ve been seeing a lot of quotes, facts and figures flying without a lot of citing reputable sources. The media is not, I repeat, is NOT a reputable source. Politicians are not a reputable source. Your neighbor’s Facebook post is not a reputable source.  We need truth here from sources who are in the trenches of refugee resettlement on a daily basis. Not Joe Schmoe whose only source is his xenophobia and slanted news sources. Here is the truth:

1.)    We have to understand terminology first and foremost:

The people fleeing Syria are yes, people fleeing persecution. However, what we are seeing in Europe is not the legal definition of refugees, meaning people who have gone through the process and pipelines that have been in place for years and have safely resettled scores of refugees to 28 countries around the globe accepting them without any incident. What we are seeing in Europe are the mass majority asylum seekers, people who are seeking refugee status, yet who have not gone through the extensive process to gain it. The media does not understand this important difference and has been interchanging these words without care. It matters. Because what is happening in Europe with completely open borders in places is not the same thing that the United States is doing through the UNHCR and the U.S. State Department refugee resettlement program that allows those who have undergone the intense background checks, cross several intelligence agencies, biodata checks, medical screenings, and intense interviews to verify the validity of their plight. (www.unhcr.org for more info)

2.)    We have to know the numbers:

19.5 million Refugees worldwide. This is the largest refugee crisis our world has ever seen since World War II. We are talking about a humanitarian crisis of epic proportions. Less than 1% get resettled worldwide in countries allowing refugee resettlement. In the next year, the United States has committed to welcome 85,000 refugees. That’s .004% of the world’s persecuted. That’s a shameful spit in the bucket. Of those 85,000, only 10,000 will be arriving from Syria. Just around 10% of the refugees coming to the United States will be coming from the country producing the most right now. The vast majority will come from other places such as Burma, Colombia, or the DR of Congo just to name a few. Church, these numbers are sickening and embarrassing because do you know who takes on the majority of the care for those displaced due to war and violence? Developing countries. The poorest of the poor are the ones opening their arms and homes to those who need it the most. Woe to us, Church! This cannot be our generation’s legacy. (www.unhcr.org for more info)

3.) We have to stop operating out of the same fear that everyone around us seems to:

Most days, I wonder if I’m even reading the same Bible as the vast majority of those who proclaim Christ. Because when I read it, I don’t find any promises of a comfortable, safe existence. Instead, every word I read points to a life that is lived poured out defending and fighting for those who need it most in a world that is unstable and gunning for us. Everything I have read and know about Jesus points to the fact that He has but one stance on refugee resettlement: do it.

Care for the least. Stop and tend for the foreigner who has been pummeled and left for dead. Love your enemies, both real and perceived. This is my Jesus. I don’t know if that is yours, but if it isn’t, please don’t continue to use the label Christian for describing your belief system. I know that’s a hard word for you, but with that label comes a load of responsibility in terms of knowing the God in which we serve. Don’t claim to follow Him if you don’t think we should do what He says.

His word is clear: do not be afraid. Yes, evil will come. Yes, it will rear its ugly face in our backyards and in our cities. It will try to get us to live in terror and fear, because it knows, those things keep us from our God. It will create chaos and incite panic because all of this distracts from the peace and hope we are guaranteed.

This world will continue to spin on what seems to be a downward spiral. Jesus said it. He told us to expect it:

Jesus answered: “Watch out that no one deceives you. ⁵ For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am the Messiah,’ and will deceive many. ⁶ You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. ⁷ Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places. ⁸ All these are the beginning of birth pains.

⁹ “Then you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me. ¹⁰ At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, ¹¹ and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. ¹² Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, ¹³ but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. ¹⁴ And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come. (Matthew 24:4-14)

But our hope is not in this world’s messiahs: politicians who make false promises to keep all the bad out or media sources who claim to know the truth. These messiahs will deceive you. Jesus said it.

Wars and rumors of wars will continue to come. But see to it you are not alarmed, He told you. Persecution will ensue for standing up for righteousness. We. Will. Be. Hated.

Because of the wickedness, the love of most will grow cold. Love grown cold looks like the likes of Christ claiming, Jesus lovers saying no to the world’s most vulnerable and needy.

But to the one who stands firm in love, in trust of the true Messiah, in doing the hard things He has called us to in a scary culture, those He will save. And it is this gospel that will be preached in the whole world: from Syria to Burma and to every war-torn country in between.

Church, I love you so. I don’t want us to collectively err on the wrong side of this crossroads in our history. Let’s rise up and watch perfect love drive out fear.

Sincerely,

Your sister and biggest fan

 

On Becoming World Changers...

Ever since I was a kid, I've always favored the underdog of the story. I became obsessed with the Civil Rights Movement in elementary school. Thurgood Marshall and Atticus Finch were my heroes. I really thought my life would be spent in a courtroom, fighting for the marginalized and forgotten.

Every stage of my life, I found underdogs that needed their voices heard. In High School, it was underprivileged kids so I started a tutoring program. In college, it was migrant farmworkers so I would go with legal aid and tell people their rights. After college it was teen moms then military wives who were lonely and afraid, the hungry and poor, refugees. I like people on the outskirts. I live for fringe people. The ones who often get forgotten and swept aside.

I started using the term world changer a lot the past couple of years. I speak it over my kids. I speak it over my friends. I believe it's a thing and it can happen and there is power in one person inciting change. I believe it in the very core of my being. It may be the fact that I am an idealist or a dreamer or a bleeding heart. But I think about how God sent One to change the entire course of history and how even though we can never have that same impact, through that One, we can change a corner of the world, make it a little bit better than it was before we got here.

I've learned a lot about world changing these past couple of years. Hard things. Good things. Things I didn't know before I found the things that impassion me. Things that could've helped me had I known. Things that need to be said out loud to all the world changers and wannabe world changers.

1. It's hard: That's why everyone doesn't do it. That's why people give up and walk away and buy in to the apathy that infects our generation. It takes a lot of work, often with little noticeable return. It is three steps forward, four steps backwards. It's exhausting at times. Times when all you want to do is not care and just consume like everyone else. But world changers fight through those feelings. They press on. They cling tight to their convictions and beliefs and don't quit just because no one seems to care or listen. They keep moving when it seems like all is at a standstill.

2. You need a tribe: World changing was never meant to be done in isolation It wasn't meant to be a lone wolf endeavor. You find your people. People with your heart and your passion. Or perhaps they don't quite have your heart or your passion just yet, but you share yours. And see what types of fires it ignites around you. It's hearts and stories just like yours that have ignited entire movements. Movements that propelled change and made a difference in countless lives.

3. It gets lonely sometimes: Even when you have a tribe, there comes a point in every world changer's life when it feels like you're the only one who cares. There comes a time when you wonder why your friends ignore your pleas to help whatever cause that fires you up. You wonder why they didn't come to your event. Or donate. Or share your post. But the lonely moments are there for a purpose, too. They may be there to regroup, to add to your tribe, to do some self-care. Or to just think. Because ideas become concrete ways to engage more people in changing the world in whatever form you've found to do that.

4. World changers encourage other world changers: I may not be as stirred as you are to whatever thing you're doing to make a difference, but I am going to be your biggest fan in what you're doing. Seeing God use the talents, treasures, and passions of fellow sojourners is one of my greatest joys on this journey. Because world changers realize they can't do it all but they can take a piece of the puzzle to put this whole broken place back together again. So when I see you with your piece, doing the things God designed you to do, I'm the loudest one clapping and cheering in the back, watching Him weave together your story into His. We get to help each other up when the hard work of world changing knocks one of us off our feet and discouragement threatens to silence our voice.

5. Tell stories: Stories are what God used to draw humanity to Him. Stories have power. They matter. Whatever your thing is, find the powerful stories and tell them. Because the world needs to hear the voices that often go unheard. They need to hear your story and how you got this heart ablaze for whatever you wake up for each day.

6. Leverage what you've got: You may not have all the money to do all the things you want to do for that passion of yours, but you have resources. Your greatest resource is and will always be your relationships. You may need skills and you know someone who knows someone. You may need time. You know someone with some of that. You may need connections. Ask your people. I know it may seem like you got nothing, but I promise, you've got something. It may be a matter of building more relationships, because within those, that is where you'll find all those resources to truly do this thing right.

7. You may start feeling like a broken record: Your Facebook wall may be filled with posts promoting that fundraiser. Or that cause. Or that idea. People who don't quite understand our kind, may not want to hear about it anymore. Or they may quietly unfollow. That's ok. World changing requires a lot of noise. A lot of rooftop yelling because we don't live in a world where infrequent whispers get any coverage. No, it requires a whole lot of squeaky wheels to get some grease. Don't be afraid to ask. Again. Or to mention it. Again. Or to post it. Again. Sometimes you got to beat the gong for people to awaken to the harsh realities of this place and how YOU are trying to change one of them.

If you do it right, you're going to be poured out at the end of each day. That's ok. It's when we are completely emptied that we can be filled up the most again. Keep running your race. Don't look around you or at how far you have to go, just keep looking up. That's what is going to get you to the finish line. Don't let the naysayers and the pessimists and the small thinkers keep you from going big on this. Those are the kinds of people who leave this place either just as they found it or worse. Don't let excuses keep you from doing your thing. There will never be a perfect time. There will never be enough of anything to make it work. Just take the first step. See where God takes you with it. The world has been changed by a lot of moms, a lot of college students, a lot of 9-5ers, a lot of __________________ (fill in your position here). Start small. Watch the small lead to the big. Ripple effects. Tipping points. It can happen, my friend.

So, to all the dreamers, the bleeding hearts, the lovers of fringe people, DO. YOUR. THING. The world will thank you for it one day.

Here's to all the world changers...
Until next time,
-C.

One of my favorite world changers...with her 75 bags of rice she collected...that time she was 6.

On Storytelling...

Yesterday, I had the privilege to interview six former refugees who are rebuilding their lives in my community for videos we are going to show at a fundraiser I’m putting together. I asked them to tell me their story, which they did with such courage even though bright lights and cameras intimidated. I asked them what their hopes and dreams were for their future and the future of their children. I asked them what they would be if they could be anything. I asked them what their struggles and joys have been. Their answers were profound, meaningful, and hope filled. Hearing their stories in their own words had moved me so much that by the time it was my turn to be interviewed as a volunteer who has worked with refugees and share my own story, I was raw. So raw that I ended up crying during my interview. [Insert embarrassing moment when said video will be shown at the event on a big screen]

It got me thinking, though. Stories are powerful. Stories have the potential to motivate, inspire, change, push, challenge, and grow people. Stories are the conduit God chose when He wanted to give us something to reveal His redemption plan. Stories are the thing that create collective memories and pursue hearts. Stories matter.

 

I think about some of my friends whose stories are riddled with deep valleys of pain. I think of some of those friends, the bravest ones I know, who make it a point to share their stories. Not because they want attention or sympathy, but because they believe in the power of stories. I think about how many people are changed in some way by those courageous ones who open their book to the most tender, heartbreaking chapters and read it aloud. It is hard to share our story. It opens us up for ridicule, judgement, pity, attention, gossip, and the like. It can make us feel vulnerable and naked and acutely aware of the eyes turned our way. But when we are bold enough to disclose, there is always a quiet, timid voice standing in the shadow of our pages, whispering “Me too!” It is in those intersections of stories, in those places where your pain and mine meet, that people connect on the deepest of levels. It is in those seams that we begin to silence the lies that scream you are all alone and no one understands. We find light where darkness once invaded and peace where chaos festered.

But, I wonder how many stories have gone untold because of all the fear that surrounds becoming an author? How many refuse to formulate the sentences that will release their story into the world? Yet how many more are anxiously awaiting to hear one with pages like theirs so they can finally feel like another truly knows them?

Stories are powerful. They change the world. And yours is a good one. An important one. I just hope that one day, you will be brave enough to tell it.

Here’s to all the storytellers…

Until next time,

-C.

On Learning from Each Other...

I just returned after FIVE days away from my people. Yes, you read that right...1 2 3 4 5 days away!!! I had meticulously typed out notes for being me in the interim (90% of which were ignored...but it's whatever) and hopped on a plane to Dallas, Texas to visit one of my BFF's in her new home and life with a newly arrived third child. It's one of those trips where even though it wasn't meant to, it taught me a lot.

Whenever you get the opportunity to be a house guest, you get a front row seat to seeing how other people live. To the reality show junkie in me, this is amazing. Not that my friend exhibited any behaviors that warranted a reality show, but you know what I mean. You see how others cook and clean. What they feed their kids. How they handle tantrums. What their daily schedule is like. You see underneath the Facebook veneer into what is real and true.

I got to experience simplicity, something I long for daily in my life. My friend is so good at choosing simplicity: in the amount of stuff in her home, in the amount of things on her calendar, in everything. She chooses simple over more. Her home was just filled with a sense of calm and peace because she wasn't frantically moving about all the time like I am. She doesn't live life to the absolute edge and threshold. She recognizes her season with a newborn babe and two other sweet girls under five who need her full attention. There isn't clutter in her everyday because she consciously chooses what is fitting for her time in life. In five short days, it got me thinking about my own house and life and how so much of my chaos is self-induced. It's my schedule. It's my "yeses." It's the things I let in. It's my lack of understanding what this time of life means for everything else. It has me reevaluating everything on my plate that is literally about to fall and crack in to a million tiny pieces. I cannot do it all. Something must always give whether its our family life, our social life, our spiritual life, our physical life or our emotional/mental life. With every give in life, something is taken.

 

I got to teach her a few things too during my stay. Like the recipe for my favorite arugula salad and pesto chicken. How to entertain kids for hours with Bingo Dauber art . The shortcut of covering a cut watermelon with some saran wrap (saves a dirty dish, you know). Really life altering things...

This whole time away made me think though how very rarely we get to go inside someone's life. I mean really go. I see my generation struggle so much with basic hospitality in just inviting others over, let alone, inviting others in. We are missing out on so much relational depth because we are awaiting our Pinterest-perfect setting so we don't even want to allow others the chance to see our imperfections. And if it isn't because of our desire to make things pretty inside our space, it's because we have a desire to make things pretty inside our hearts. We can't bear the thought of people seeing the raw and ugly. We can't stand the idea that our cracks might show if we open up the door. If it isn't fear holding us back, it's busyness. We pack our schedules to the max so that there isn't any time to open our hearts and living rooms. The most connected generation, yet we are so relationally alone and unknown. It's the being unknown that is ultimately going to drown us: not the jam packed schedules or the one too many yeses. It's the daily living with the fact that no one can see underneath that threatens to choke us to death. We have so much to learn from each other, but we don't even get the chance because we are too afraid or too busy.

I just wonder how our generation is going to fare with this false sense of connection through a computer screen. Will mamas ever be able to learn and teach one another? Will women find comfort in knowing their pain isn't unique, that someone else has experienced a similar heartache too? Or will we just continue to gain more and more "wisdom" from thousands upon thousands of internet sources without any "flesh" on them, people putting out the impossibly perfect, "do what I do" blogs and pinterest pins for the masses to indulge in?

I know it's a ramble today, but perhaps, we all need to take a minute and step into someone else's life, a real person we know and love, and learn a little something new to get us thinking...

Here's to learning something new!
Until next time,
C.

My Favorite Arugula Salad

1 bag of Arugula washed and ready

1/4 thinly sliced fennel

1/2 cup halved cherry tomatoes

1/4 cup thinly sliced GOOD quality Asiago cheese... don't skimp, man

1 lemon

3-4 tablespoons of Extra Virgin Olive Oil

 

Toss the arugula, fennel, and tomatoes. Squeeze lemon directly on salad and toss. Slowly pour in olive oil and toss again. Salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle with cheese. Life. Made. Pair with your favorite, HOT bread and call it a day, because you've adult-ed enough just by making this salad.

On Aylan and Hard Things...

As I sat in the bathtub tonight, trying to soak away all the hard parts of the day, I realized how little I understood hard. My hard was an eight year old with a bad attitude and the seemingly hormonal reactions of an emerging teenager. My hard was a whiny three year old who wanted to use a sharp knife to cut his meat and wouldn’t stop tantruming about it. My hard was a one year old who wanted to be carried around all day. But, then I thought about the mama on the other side of the world whose hard was words I cannot even begin to fathom. Persecution. Death. Destruction. Her hard was constant warring in her hometown. Her hard was making the choice to seek safety across the turbulent waters on a journey towards freedom. Her hard was watching her babies go under after the boat that promised hope and a future capsized. Her hard was breathing her last breath as she was swept under in a sea of despair. Her hard was her baby’s lifeless body washing up to shore for all the world to see so that other mama’s like me could finally realize that I don’t know hard.

My privileged American existence has insulated me in so many ways from the true hard things of this world. I will never ache in the depths of my soul as I watch my child hungry and listless from malnutrition. I will never experience the groaning of a mother who cannot afford the needed basic medical care to keep her child alive. I will never shutter at the sounds of gunfire or bombs exploding outside my window and be forced to make a choice to run from battles waged around me. I will never be exploited or abused just because someone can. I don’t know hard.

Yet, I’ve noticed a trend with my fellow mamas, sequestered in a bubble in which our hardest places are whether to homeschool, public school or private school, whether to work or not, whether to do organic and natural or processed and fast or some mixture of the two, we create our own false sense of hard.

The thing I see in myself and my friends is that every complaint, fear, and stressor is almost always self-induced. We hem and haw over things that are completely and utterly meaningless in the scheme of the world’s pain. Our hard with our children is so often the result of an overindulgence and sense of entitlement that rears its ugly head because we as mamas have overindulged and entitled. Hard is always, always, always a matter of perspective.

So, what do we do as we sit in our comfortable houses with our pretty things and watch a world of fellow mamas throughout the world throbbing in the darkness of poverty, hunger, persecution, abuse, and the like? The short answer: we do something. We start by taking less from the table so there is more to go around. We stop gorging ourselves on the gluttonous feast that is our culture and we give more out of our abundance. We do research. We find people and places on the ground doing the things that will shift the course of history for generations to come. We empower women and give them the opportunities to provide for their children. We leverage all we’ve got: our assets, our paychecks, our circles of influence for doing something. We don’t accept the paralyzing effects of a culture that tells us everything is for the getting and it’s ours for the taking. We don’t sleep at night because we know that one person can change the world and through that ONE, we can too. We mobilize our people and we ignite passion in our community for life outside of our kind of hard, into the kinds of hard we can't begin to understand. The kinds of hard experienced by the majority of the world. We bring to light all the darkness and we just.do.something. We quit giving excuses of I don’t have time or I don’t have money or I’ve got small kids. No, those justifications aren’t going to cut it anymore because we know deep down we can make time, we can spend less, and we can bring them along. We get creative and we think outside the box. We attack the problems from multiple angles and we celebrate when others find their something to do.

Fasting is a spiritual discipline we find throughout the pages of scripture, the act of taking in less so that we can be filled with more. These verses keep coming to the forefront of my mind as all these thoughts have been strewn about the interiors of my heart and mind:

 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
    and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
    and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?
Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
    and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness will go before you,
    and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard.
Then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
    you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
    with the pointing finger and malicious talk,
 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
    and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
    and your night will become like the noonday.
The Lord will guide you always;
    he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
    and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
    like a spring whose waters never fail.

-Isaiah 58:6-11 (NIV)

Loosen the chains of injustice. Set the oppressed free. Share our food. Provide the wanderer with shelter. Give the naked clothes. I don’t know what your something looks like, but I know it’s there. Are you willing to do the work of finding it? If we do it right according to Isaiah, we are going to spend ourselves and that will be hard.

If you’re looking for a place to do something now in regards to the current refugee crisis, consider donating to my favorite resettlement agency, Interfaith Refugee Ministry-Wilmington. Be sure to note on your check or in paypal that you’d like your donation to go to the Wilmington office.