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.

the funny thing about husbands

last week, I had the poem below, sitting typed out on my desktop, getting ready to post- but I had not copied the author yet, just the poem.

josh sat down to read it.

and he was like, damn, that's really good Brooke.

It took him awhile, and then he realized, it was, alas, not my work of brilliance.

but it was nice that he thought, that maybe, just maybe it could be.

ha.

maybe when all the years pass, and I learn deep and wise things, God will gift me with one, beautiful amazing poem.

until then.

copy. paste. and thanks to all the poets who make sense of my world.

because, I wake, to sleep, and take my waking slow.

I learn, by going where I have to go.

amen.

The Waking

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.


Theodore Roethke

I, also, learn by going where I have to go.