the day after

the day after I work all night is always somewhat of a blur of discontent. My head hurts. I feel fuzzy.

I wonder how to make the day pass with my kids.

sure enough. the naps always tank on these days.

Luckily it was a crisp Spring day, like for real Spring, not "sprummer", like we've been having. I've had the doors open all day, letting all kinds of creep crawlies in the house, but I'm in a place in my life where I can live with that.

I've been heavy in my thoughts, too.

Seeing so many friends the past few weeks, looking over my past.

Thinking about my first confession. yeah, I still have to do that by this Friday.

I have always hung my hat on not being the rebellious type, but this year, God is showing me that my rebellion, though not in the form of booze or grand theft- is actually more frightening and disturbing. That rebellion of my own heart.

my own longing to be in charge of the dance. to be my own choreographer.

I have been thinking about words, how I love them, and how they are the source of my own rebellion as well.

The way I speak, in anger. in jealousy. in comparison. In deep wells of insecurity.

I have miles to go.

with God's help.

Lord, have mercy.

lenten round up

I have come here many days during lent, only to turn away. the words just never could find there way out, and  I thought this might be like a gift, you know. To stay true to my intentions. being present.

words for me are my like a garden. Sometimes they form and make beautiful things, but sometimes they are diseased, or the rabbits get into them and steal their beauty.

I am learning that good words and thoughts are sometimes best held captive until the right time. the time, for me, is kind of elusive, but they eventually form. create. speak.

if only to me.

I have been thinking so much about lent, and our journey into the Catholic Church. I want to share so many things, but all my efforts end up in silence.

This has been such a long conversation, so to speak. people ask us why?- and I usually just say exactly like- that's a really long conversation.

Josh and I started it over 5 years ago, but really- it began even sooner, we just didn't have words for it, then.

I also, with every sincere bone in my body, want to protect my heritage. The Church, has always been a family to me. It has protected me from my earliest years. I will forever cherish those beautiful hymns in the Methodist Church. I will always admire the theological ardency of my Presbyterians. I will always (ironically) be inspired by the Reformation and the beauty that came out of that period. And likewise, I will always, I believe, grieve and be grasping for straws until heaven- at how messed up it all is. I grieve over the fighting. the disputes. the arrogance.

I think I read recently a quote by Anne Lamott, "we are all just walking each other home".

I get that.

I am just trying to get home.

I really try to abstain from being preachy around here, but I do have something to say.

Be kind to your friends. As Josh says, God isn't up there playing "gotcha". It has never been about us getting it right.

Jesus got it right.

One day, and I don't know if it will be here or some other venue, I will share about how my way home ended up on the door steps of the Catholic Church.

I'll share how Mary has become a comforting doctrine. and how Jesus has become bigger than he has ever been for me.

I'll share how I have been deeply at peace from the moment we stepped into those doors.

Until then, if ever, when ever, I continue to manage the chaos. feed the babes. wipe their bottoms. I continue to struggle with that edge in my voice when my world feels frustrating and tired. I continue to fight that battle of comparing, worrying, judging, and a million other daily sins.

I rest in the lenten season, where my sin is resting in the promise and hope that it is redeemed.

This week, we spent seven glorious days in Birmingham. We visited with friends. Visited all our favorite spots. We introduced Annie to those beautiful botanical gardens- which, when asked what was her favorite part of vacation, she said "Our WALKS!". (we went 3 times)


We are good tired.

lenten thoughts

This past week at RCIA (this is our Catholic "class" we attend every week, which is basically like 6 months of seminary in condensed form- it's been so great!), Father Jack lectured on the 10 commandments in such a refreshing way (and humbling). Anyway, I have been thinking a lot about "coveting thy neighbors goods".

I think one of the great struggles in my identity and spiritual life stems from this commandment.

This is no fault of my parents. My parents were (and are) very hard working and generous. I am sure there were times we lived beyond our means, but we were not fed with a silver spoon. One of the things (that still annoys me, but I think its very good), is that my Father never handed money over to us. If we needed something, he always asked, "how much do you think you need?". I never wanted to do this work, because it felt humbling, but it really made me think about what I really needed- and I think forced me to be honest.

Another thing that my parents did was send me to a private school (both high school and  college). This, again, was no little sacrifice, but it is also where I learned about my own heart and its tendency to covet. In high school, I was exposed to the elite South, the world of country clubs and exclusivity. I had friends who wore designer clothes and never repeated outfits. They vacationed on Sea Island and spent their Summers at the country club pool.

The irony was that I found this lifestyle really undesirable. It looked and felt ugly to me, and yet at the same time I hated feeling on the fringe. We were hardly poor, hardly suffering, and lived like kings and queens comparatively. Nevertheless, it made an impression, and one I have struggled with my entire life.

Thankfully, college brought the much needed space from that. When kids are separated from their parents and their homes, they tend to make their own identity, and Samford felt that way to me. Sure, I rubbed up against the old demons, but for the most part, I felt good in my own skin.

I was becoming.

I feel like, for most of my life, I have been fighting to be me. I win much of the time, but sometimes I just lose.

Yesterday, I took the girls to the park, and overheard two mom's talking about their 600 K homes. I have plenty of friends who have nice homes, and they are kind, and humble, and would not be having this conversation. But these women were. I had the feeling that one of the women was trying to fit in, earn a friendship, but it just made me feel small, and reminded me what I do not have.

And that's ok. That's not my life. I have a good, blessed life. I have more than I need.

yes, I have linoleum kitchen floors, and they really do a great job of keeping me humble.

I walked away sad yesterday. sad that the old coveting was still there. I repented.

and played on the floor for three hours with my one year old.

because that is what matters.

lent and little ones

my lenten promise is to be present.

present in lent.

present with my children.

it's a big hope. a big goal.

I'll probably fail.

but, i might get better, too.

not better, like legalistic better.

but better, like maybe I'll be more like Jesus better.

with his help, of course.

Lent, for the church, has been a season of repentance. A chance to meditate on the cross.

Traditionally, christians have entered into a season of fasting. This has taken up various shapes or forms over the years.

So, I am fasting from distractions. I am trying to be mindful of the fox that creeps in the vineyard, so to speak.

this changes from day to day, but my eyes are open, watching.

practicing presence.

so, my presence here will be limited. 

the sun is heating up the days. we peek outside, open the windows. it is good.