Unconditional Love

I'm not sure I know the first thing about it. I don't get it. It's so easy for me to miss loving others because I'm so worried about my self. It's easy for me to see the speck in a friend's eye and completely miss the log in my own eye. It is easy for me to love my friends and almost impossible to love my enemies (those who have hurt me, those I don't understand, those I'm jealous of, those who get under my skin, those people I just don' t like). Have you ever tried to sincerely pray for your enemies? Not a prayer of damnation, either, a prayer of blessing and peace. Not easy.

Living a life like Jesus goes against all of my gut reactions. Every single one of them. I read the following sentence in an article a few weeks ago and it has literally changed me. The irony is that it was an article posted by a friend that was meant to point out how wrong an entire group of people were, and instead it pointed out how wrong I am. For once I saw the log in my own eye instead of the speck in another's. Sort of a miracle. "...the central tenet of Christianity as it has come down to us is that we are to reach out when our instinct is to pull inward; to give when we want to take; to love when we are inclined to hate; to include when are tempted to exclude." (Mark Osler) In short, we are to choose love every time, and it will cost us. It will cost us our comfort, maybe our "rights", it will take time, it will make us think.

It doesn't fit within our culture to respond this way. As an American, I have rights. There is justice for when I am wronged. I am encouraged to be happy, and remove any unhappiness from my life, even if it's a family member or spouse. I am told that forgiving someone over and over again is being an enabler. It's recommended that I carry a weapon, or mace at the least, so I can hurt anyone who tries to hurt me. I'm told to be careful when helping people--they'll just want to take advantage of me and could possibly put me in a bad position. Being independent and self-sufficient is seen as smart and successful; living in community and relying on others is seen as socialism. I see the value in a lot of these statements, but I also see how they contradict the teachings of Jesus.

When I read the Bible, specifically the parts when Jesus was here on the earth, I'm dumbfounded by his unconditional love for all people. The example that has been in my head for weeks now is The Last Supper. The symbolism of giving thanks, breaking the bread, and drinking the wine is sacred. It is a holy act of remembrance and reverence for the Savior to All. And at that supper, Jesus graciously invites everyone to partake. EVERYONE. Even Peter, who would deny him three times. That's betrayal, friends. Ever been betrayed? Ever been let down by someone? Jesus knew about this already and yet he broke the bread and drank the wine with him, and most importantly, invited him to do so. 

EVERYONE. Even Judas, who helped murder him. Could you forgive someone who was an accomplice in murdering you or a loved one? Could you invite them into your home, sit at the table with them, and break bread with one another? Could you do all that with love in your heart? I couldn't. I can't even hang out with someone who doesn't recycle let alone with someone who is helping others kill me! (That was a joke about the recycling. Sort of.)But isn't that what the love of Christ is supposed to do to us? Make us go huh?? It should be baffling and overwhelming. It should have us scratching our heads. The love of Christ should make those who don't know it, curious, not angered.

I think of the response of the Amish families to the Nickel Mines shootings--their sincere forgiveness had the world and the media baffled; I think of the response of the man who was mugged in a Subway station by a teenager--when his wallet was taken he offered his coat, too. And then dinner. (more here) This was an unexpected response. In a world where our rights and  freedoms seem to trump many teachings from scripture, it's hard to imagine what unconditional love looks like.

I don't know how to love like this, but I want to. I want to give grace to others; I want to believe the best and not assume the worst; I want to listen more than I speak (THIS is laughable to those who know me!); I want to love, with no strings attached. I have a long way to go on all of these. Everyday I can make a choice to remember the love and grace and forgiveness I have received and to extend it to others. Everyday I can make progress, baby step progress. But only by the grace of God. And that grace truly is amazing.

- M

Donde Esta My Brain???

Every year I buy a planner--this year's was the planner the for Moms Who Do It All--and I have such high hopes of using it. Needing it. January-February are usually filled up; March-May have a smattering of entries. By June--nothing. I so badly want to need a planner--kind of like when I was younger and wanted braces so bad that I regularly unbent a paper clip and delicately laid it across my teeth, spending several minutes contouring it to the shape of my mouth, and then leaving it there while I talked to everyone. I was pretty sure that it looked real. And by "pretty sure" I mean I was 100% convinced it fooled everyone. I don't know if I want to feel important or just feel like a grown-up (in my mind a planner=adult) or just admire my handwriting, but in the incorrect word of a former boss, irregardless, I would just like to depend on a planner. It's just that I don't forget appointments. I remember dates and numbers--kind of in a creepy way. I can rattle off birthdays, addresses, and other-information-I-shouldn't-know-about-you. So I just don't have a need to write it down.

Until this week. I overlooked THREE scheduled things this week. This is unprecedented. This doesn't happen. That makes me wonder: where is my brain?!

It could be that between getting too much sun last week on vacation and trying to decide how to fit our life into 10 pieces of luggage that will fly to Mexico in less than 3 weeks, I just don't have room for anything else! Maybe my wish will come true--I may actually need to start writing things down! A Christmas miracle in July!

Really, though, the task of packing up our house--the house we've spent almost 8 years in; the house we brought our babies home to; the house where ice used to form on the inside of the windows because we had to keep our heat so low; the house where we haven't had a working downstairs bathroom for 2 1/2 years (God bless Alan!); the house that at some point or another contained the following rogue animals: a bat, a bird, several mice, thousands of ants, dozens of oriental roaches, and 2 opossums in the backyard (R.I.P, buddies)--is overwhelming at times. 

At first the excitement of moving outweighed the sadness of leaving. Now, as our moving day approaches (we settle Sept. 7), sadness is creeping in. It's sad to take down all our pictures and pack them away. It's hard sifting through kitchen equipment and deciding what I can live without for now. It's sad knowing someone else will get to enjoy this house and make their own memories here. 

This move isn't a "trip"; it really is a new season of our lives. Even if we only stay in Mexico the two years we've committed to, we won't be moving back to the same house. We won't have the same jobs. Our kids won't play with the same toys they are playing with now. It will all be different--we will hopefully be different. And so much of that is good! 

Though change is good, for me, it has required some "grieving." The same kind of grieving that happened when we had Olive. Not because there was something wrong with her or I didn't like her, but because being a mommy was brand new for me and completely overwhelming. It represented a new season of life, which required saying goodbye to the previous one. I went through a time when I grieved my former life (read: the life where I felt confident and capable and rested) in order to thrive in my new, totally unfamiliar role (read: the role in which I felt the opposite of all the adjectives listed in those other parentheses). Once I accepted that life would be different, I felt like I was finally able to be present. And when I was present, I was able to learn and grow and become confident in being a mom to my firstborn. And most importantly, I was able to find new joys about this season of life and not just focus on all the things I missed. And it turns out, I can't even remember much about life pre-kids, because life is just that good now. Had I never properly said goodbye to my independent, kid-free life, I fear I would be discontent and maybe even a little resentful and miss out on the beauty of life. Kind of like those people who always refer to the "good 'ol days"...

I don't want to be in the good 'ol days--I want to be here, in the present. I want to live today.  I want to savor these last two months of living in farm country, getting together with friends and family, and making memories with my girls. I am remembering to appreciate the fact that I am considered competent here in the U.S., because in a few months I will be utilizing my toddler-sized-Spanish-vocabulary along with lots of hand motions and I'm pretty sure I won't be taken too seriously. I don't want to shove the sadness inside, but I don't want to wallow in it either. When moments of sadness come in this process, I want to acknowledge them and cherish what I have now. Because the life I have now is pretty amazing.

And just like I found my way as a mommy, I'll find my way in this season too. Hopefully with a lot less poop and pee and a lot more delicious tacos.

- M

May 2012 Recap

So much has happened this past month. We wanted to quick give you an update on some of the events that occured.

May 3-7: Alan spent a few days down in Mexico City with Josh and the team, you can read about it and see pics on our here.

May 19: Alan's family, and many of the people of NorthPointe Community Church held a yard sale to benefit our move. First, the fact that several families donated their items to benefit us instead of themselves was truly humbling. Second, the yard sale was held at Alan's parent's house, which is probably a mile or 2 off of any main road--it's literally in the woods. The amount of traffic we had was incredible! And finally, the amount of "man hours" that our dear family and friends put into this was so sacrificial and generous and we are really thankful. In total, we sold more than $1,000 worth of items, and were also given over $500 in donations!

May 19/20: We were officially announced as missionaries at Worship Center. It was an emotional weekend for us--sharing our story, Alan leading worship, and connecting with so many of our church family after the service and hearing their words of encouragement and support. If you didn't get a chance to be there, you can view the service online here.

In that weekend alone, God provided through our church family over $2,500 in one-time gifts, and 25% additional monthly support! It was such an overwhelming and humbling experience for us.

May 30: We had the opportunity to share at Drive 78 (7th & 8th graders) about our journey, and encourage them to be looking even now for the steps God is asking them to take, even at such a young age. We shared with them about The Well, and the girls there. We gave the students an opportunity to stay after the service and write a note to the girls at The Well. It was cool to walk back into the room and see several dozen students giving up their hang-out time to write a word of encouragement to the girls! One young man came up to Alan and said he felt God asking him to do something, but didn't know what to say in a letter. He then handed Alan $20 he had earned at his summer job and said, "I feel very blessed. I hope this will make a difference." It will--God is always just asking for our obedience, and when we obey, it surely makes a difference!

Loving the Unlovable

It all started around 3am. Clementine woke up calling for me, but because Alan doesn't actually ever fully wake up during the night, he is assigned nighttime duty for the girls. If I wake up, I can't get back to sleep, and will just lie awake for hours, and then have a pounding headache in the morning because my body is high maintanance and needs exactly 8 hours of sleep each night. It's better for everyone if Alan tends to the girls since he never really wakes up he can go right back to sleep. Well, maybe it's not the best case scenario for our kids, but they're resilient, remember? Alan went to Clementine's room and she was not satisfied with him. By "not satisfied" I mean she was screaming hysterically for me with no calming down. I went in because I just couldn't see the situation getting any better with a half-asleep husband and a fully hysterical toddler. She calmed down immediately, and I put her back to bed. I however, could not fall asleep. She woke up 2 more times, then Olive woke up once because she was cold. I finally went back to sleep around 5:30, but broken sleep just isn't the same.

I tried to tell myself it was going to be a great day. Well, it's NOT been a great day. Olive has been acting not like herself--quite clingy, demanding, crying. I woke up feeling very overwhelmed, almost discouraged, about all things Mexico. Turns out that when I feel overwhelmed or discouraged, writing is great therapy. It's really hard to write when I don't have time or space to think. That was this morning.

We came home from an exhausting playdate (not because I didn't enjoy the company, but because I was trying to hold myself together the entire time) and thank God my girls went right to bed. I was literally hanging on by a thread emotionally and I just needed some space.

It's really easy to love my kids when they are super loveable and compliant and pleasant. Anyone can do that. I believe somewhere in some book Jesus talks about loving those who are unloveable, and how THAT is real love. Ouch. Somehow I tell myself that it's okay to be short with my kids (and other people) or stressed or angry because of the way they are acting. It seems normal...and it is. But Jesus is asking me to be not-normal. He's asking me to love with His love--the kind that doesn't make any normal sense. But it's so hard (said in my whiny voice). Yeah, it is. It's mostly hard though because I'm trying to love like Christ without Christ's help. I can only pull from the "love reserves" for so long before I crack. I only have so much grace in me until someone has crossed a line. God has grace upon grace, which I can dwell in and pull from continually, if I choose. But there it is: if I choose. How many times do I choose something else to fill the void or to minimize the stress? I'm choosing mere distractions from the real issue: I need to experience God's grace and love fo' real.

And so today, it felt like I was gasping for breath--emotional and spiritual breath. It doesn't happen often where I am literally desperate to talk to God. But today, I was desperate to read His truth and talk to him and share my burdens with him and be silent so he could share with me. Isn't this where he wants to find me always? Isn't it in this place of desperation that I am most in communion with Him? And so I read the passage for today and I'm continually amazed how a text that was published almost 85 years ago seems like it was written for me today.

Alan and I are both reading My Utmost for His Highest and almost everyday I'm floored. In a good way. Today was no exception. O.C. (that's his street name) first distinguished between the burden-bearing that is right and the kind that is wrong. He then goes on to say that if God has put the burden on us, he is not expecting us to carry it alone. He wants to shoulder it with us. We are not to abandon the burden (or dream or vision or calling), but we are to continue to put it on him and ourselves. Trying to carry the burden without intimate fellowship with Christ produces weariness and feels "overwhelmingly crushing". Sounds a lot like motherhood. And like our plans to move to Mexico.

How I needed to hear this today. If God has given me the blessing of children, he wants to shoulder this calling. I don't have to do it alone. And if he has asked our family to pick up everything we know and move it to a faraway land, he wants to shoulder it, too. He's not going to give me a burden and expect me to carry it on my own. How amazingly refreshing to have that reminder.

Then I read a passage in Ephesians that talked about how Jesus sacrificed his life for me while I was still dead in my transgressions. He loved me when I was unloveable and still loves me as I am unloveable on a daily basis. This is the love that I too am called to give to my kids and others. To love the unloveable.

My prayer for today is to dwell in the grace of God and to continue to share the load with him.

- M

The Lone Star State

A few weeks ago we decided we would travel to Texas (all 4 of us) for Alan's Grandpa's 90th birthday celebration. The decision to go was pretty last minute, although we were given plenty of notice about this trip. Originally, it just seemed like too much money and the thought of leisure travel with two kids seemed void of leisure.

Then all of a sudden, we decided to go. Not sure why--maybe because finances changed and we had the money, or because we wanted to wear shorts and say things like "ya'll"--nonetheless, we were headed to the happiest place on earth. Wait. Wrong place.

There was a small part of me that wanted to go to Texas to see what I was made of. I wanted to travel with two kids on an airplane, live in cramped quarters for a few days to see if I could do it. I knew my kids could do it--they're resilient. I just wasn't sure how I would fare. And since we have plans to move our entire lives to another country, I thought taking a test run couldn't hurt. Turns out, I am resilient too!

Because I am trying to write this while the girls are napping and in reality, Olive has more of a "quiet time" in her room, which, in reality is not that quiet, I'll include just some highlights from the trip.

We had a lay-over on the way there, so each flight was no more than 2 1/2 hours. The girls did so well, thanks to a stash of lollipops and the iPad. We flew on regional planes, so they didn't handle turbulence as well. After our first flight, Olive and I were sick. Olive was really pale and saying her tummy hurt and I was quietly saying to myself "do not throw up, do NOT throw up". So at the Cincinnati airport, I found magic Chewable Dramamine and the second flight was quite dreamy.

The first night we stayed with some Dear Friends who live in Dallas. All four of us tried to share a room. Clementine was in a pack and play, Olive on a sofa-bed, and we were in a regular bed. We put the girls to bed first and through the monitor kept hearing this exchange:

Clementine: O-wiv

Olive: What?

Clementine: Chicken butt

After the 4th time of being called in by Olive, we moved Clementine to her own room so we could get some sleep. Olive did awesome sharing a room with us. It's amazing how kids just all of a sudden grow up. 6 months ago, we tried sharing a room and it was a disaster. I added that to the list of things we just don't do. This was a good reminder that everything is just a season.

The rest of the trip was filled with a lot of time spent at the hotel playground, in our hotel room, and getting together with family each night. Saturday night was the actual birthday celebration. Great Grandma (or "Meemaw" as Clementine calls her) bought special dresses for the girls to wear to the party. This is how much the girls liked them:

Seriously. The crying and death screams lasted for 15 minutes. Much bribing was done to get them to go to the party in these dresses. I think they get their diva-ness from Alan. He's high maintenance.

I'm so glad we decided to go, for many reasons. It was great for Alan to spend time with his extended family; it was so encouraging to see how well our girls do with traveling; and spending time with our Dear Friends in Dallas was refreshing.

I feel like we can accomplish anything; all I need is a stash of lollipops, Caillou episodes on the iPad, and some Dramamine.

- M

Ps. Find more pictures and musings from our trip on facebook.

Reading: My Anti-Drug

For some it's sports; for others it's music. Some are into theater, while others are even into cup-stacking. These are all "anti-drugs," according to the campaign that began several years ago to keep kids off drugs. If they have something that brings them meaning; value; brings them life; then they are less likely to try drugs, so the campaign goes. Reading is my anti-drug. If there ever comes a day when I can't read, I will need drugs. Probably just amoxicillin. Nothing too strong to start.

I really do love to read, mainly to learn, but sometimes for relaxation. As long as I can understand the vocabulary, I'll read it. The back of a shampoo bottle, signs posted in the YMCA bathroom, magazines, books, blogs. Anything. I've come to learn (not through reading) that I use reading as my anti-drug, or in reality, my anti-anxiety. At least that's the hope. If I have a problem, I read. If I have free time, I read. If I want to learn something, I read. If I want to feel moved, I read. If I'm bored, I read. If I need an idea for leftovers, I read. If I need to figure out what the rash is on my kid's back, I read.  Alan has, on at least one occasion, stated that reading is tearing our family apart. It seems like actual drugs also tear families apart. Interesting.

Not only do I like to read, but I like to read fast. Not to impress all my friends (which they are impressed), but because I can't handle being in limbo. I need to get to the end. I need closure. I need to know the bottom-line. This is not just the case for my reading-life, but also the case for my real-life. Not getting to the end as in dying, but getting to the end of a stage so I know I made it; having closure in conversations so I'm not left guessing what the other person meant; knowing the bottom line so I don't misunderstand. Some call this a control issue.

Living in limbo is really hard [for me]. When life is in limbo, I struggle with living. Really living. I'm not sure how to "thrive" in the in-betweens of life. Just like reading, I want to skip to the end – the end of the chapter, the end of the book, the end of the series – so that I can feel settled again. This presents a problem, as it is becoming more and more apparent that life with kids and life with an international move on the horizon has lots of in-betweens and limbo-ness. 

So what is one to do? What I have been doing is hunkering down, squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for this nothing-ness to pass. Nothing-ness freaks me out. I can handle being busy and on the go; I have a hard time handling the stillness. It's just.so.quiet. And I can't control what I can't hear. And if I can't control it, I am anxious. And if I'm anxious, I'm not living. I'm existing in a world of thoughts, mostly worries, but I'm not living. I'm missing out on real life. My beautiful life. 

I've been asking the question lately of how to live in the quiet. How does one like me (if you don't know me well, think Tina Fey meets Rachael Ray meets "Claire" from Modern Family) learn how to live in the in-between? In one of my first appointments, I shared my goals with my therapist for what I'd like to get out of our sessions. She looked at me with this smile, that I think means she is practicing silence as a way to meditate on what has been said, but I interpret it as an invitation to keep talking. So I proceeded to ask her for steps in achieving those goals. I explained that I'm a really good student and if she could just give me some exercises to complete, some practical tips, and most importantly, a projected timeframe that she thought I should start to see these goals accomplished, that would be great! She may have laughed out loud at this. She explained that inner healing and growth is a journey and it happens in its own way for everyone, on its own timetable for everyone, and it's not something one can control with a list of steps. Bummer.

Stillness and quiet freak me out because all the distractions and accomplishments are stripped away, and all that's left is me. And when my mind is programmed to think in checklists and accomplishments, if all that is left is me, then I am the checklist. So I start going through the inventory and decide what to work on, how to improve, how to be better, when really, the stillness and the quiet are invitations to just be. To allow God to move and breath and restore and heal. 

I want to stop squeezing my eyes shut and hunkering down through the transitions. I want to live through them and enjoy the journey with my eyes wide open and my heart filled. 

- M

Searching for God Knows What

I want to move from the place where my life in Christ is all about me to a place where it's all about him. A place where I'm more concerned about the way Christ views the world and not how the world views me. I say I want this, but doing something about it is a different story. Sometimes it feels as if I am stuck. Stuck on this side of the river. This side of the glass. Stuck in self.

A couple of weeks ago I ran into this passage in 2 Corinthians (3:18), where Paul talks about living behind the veil, and it got me thinking about fear and about destiny and about me holding myself back. As someone who's believed in God, and been a "Christian" for most of my life, I can honestly say it's only been within the past few years that I've really taken it seriously...or at least I am beginning to understand the importance of taking it seriously.

Go back a little over a year. I found myself very dissatisfied with life. I'd figured out that I could skirt by on my own efforts working at a church, leading worship, and other such things, and these appearances alone were enough to make people believe I was this wonderful Christian man. But inside I felt dead and exhausted from trying. So I started being cynical and bitter at organized religion...not at God...he was still cool. I was just tired of being a part of the institution of modern western church.

So I started searching. Searching for God knows what (*wink* Donald Miller), and having no idea what WHAT was. So I started reading. I read along this seemingly random, hap-hazard journey of literature that went from Donald Miller’s Searching for God Knows What, to Rob Bell’s Sex God, to David Platt’s Radical. Through this journey, God revealed to me that it was ok to be searching; to test the waters of the things I'd always believed in – come what may – and through this, I came to understand a little more the passionate pursuit of me that is God's love. This undying, never-wavering force of love, that is gentle and sweet and fierce and expansive. I came to realize that this same love that is only mine, is only everyone else’s too. Then came this desire from within to spread this love like a disease. And then came the veil.

Think back to Exodus 34, right after Moses got the Ten Commandments from God on Mt. Sinai. Moses' face was so radiant from being in the presence of God that it literally glowed. That freaked the people out, so his brother Aaron said to him, "Dude! your face is FREAKY-white! Go wash that stuff off 'cuz you're scaring people!...You can't? Then put a towel on it or something...fine, a veil will do." (You won’t find that dialogue in any translation in the Bible. I just made it up.) So Moses puts this veil over his face whenever he was around the Israelites, but took his veil off when he was alone with God. He essentially lived two lives.

Now a few years later, here comes Paul, totally tearing the cover off (pun intended)! In his 2nd letter to the church of Corinth, he says, "Since we have such a hope, we are very bold, not like Moses who would put a veil over his face...But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed...and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another." (3:12-18ish) This excites me, because Paul is encouraging me to have no separation between my life in Christ, and the life I live out for the rest of the world to see; to be unveiled and transparent for all to see, not in a boastful way, but in a real, life-giving honest way.

So here I am, living and breathing, and capable of being unveiled and transformed for all to see, yet I think at times I intentionally still live behind the veil. This thin piece of fabric that allows me to see and move and live, precludes my existence from actually living. At times I am hesitant to remove the veil God sees, because I am not ready to really deal with my life – its past, present, and future. And I don’t want to remove the veil others see, because I am not ready to be honest, vulnerable, and broken in front of people. I like being behind the veil, because it is comfortable, and the veil is what I know. To take it off would be like going from black & white to color, and I don't know color. Even though the promise of color blows my mind with its endless possibilities and beauty, I'd still rather stick with my old black & white set. (It's a television analogy that depending on your age, you may not get. Also, there was a time when there was no Internet, and not everyone had a cell phone.)

But the uncomfortable, while dissatisfying, seems easier than the unknown, because it’s known. But note what Paul says in verse 18. I am being transformed "from one degree of glory to another." This means it doesn't have to be a snap-of-the-fingers magic reaction. This is fantastic because it means I only have to take one step at a time, allowing God to transform me into His image. So while I sit behind my veil trying to calculate every foreseeable change I will face upon removing the veil, all I need to worry about is just taking off that blasted veil! I don't have to have an answer to what others will think. Or what geographic location this will take me. Or what major changes are needed in my life. I need only to worry about the removing of the veil.

I thank God for only giving me one step at a time. A friend recently told me that if I were to be given the book that is my life’s journey, and I were to skip from Chapter 1 and looked at the end, it would freak the crap out of me, as I frantically searched for "how the heck did I get there?!?!?!?" Sometimes God only reveals the next step for a reason. Understanding this is necessary so I don't over think it, or try to control it. Most importantly, I think God only gives me the next step I am supposed to take, because he knows I only have the faith and courage to take one step. And once I take that step, we'll go from there.

Have the strength to remove the veil, and not worry about anything else.

"Let other things come and go as they may, let other people criticize as they will, but never allow anything to obscure the life that is hid with Christ in God." Oswald Chambers, January 23, My Utmost for His Highest

- A