I have a list of topics and experiences that I have had over the past month that seemed blog-worthy, but you know how it goes with the whole time thing and not having it. In the meantime, I had a very "Holy ordinary"* experience that I decided should trump the others for now.
Lately, it seems like I have been drowning in heavy experiences of both life and death, both times of rejoicing and times of mourning and crying out. These seem to be the times that it is obvious for us to look to and for God, whether it is in thanksgiving or with heavy questions, anger, or pain. But what about all of those ordinary times in between?
During our Wednesday night Gathering meals, here at our church, we share "God moments" with one another before we pray and head onto the other evening activities. These God moments come in a variety of ways, but the basic question is, "Where have you seen God in your life in this past week?"
Well, with all of the recent events in the life of our congregation, I have been looking to see where God is working. Even though I never doubt God's presence, I like to be reassured that I can still see God's love and light breaking in through all the crap (yes, Mom, that was the nicest way I could put it) that life throws at us.
I was thinking over this again the other night as I was bathing my 9 month old daughter. Where have I seen God this past week? What about today? What about RIGH NOW? I began to think about the very ordinary act of bathing my daughter, which led me to think about how many other people were living the same joy of watching their sweet baby girl splashing in the water, only taking breaks to look up with her big, gorgeous, joyful eyes and offer huge smile? I felt connected to so many people as I thought about that, and it also made me think about what a blessing it was to be in that place at that time with my precious, healthy little girl. I thought to those who were, instead, crying out in pain or grief, those who were seeking the light in the midst of darkness. My moment of joy was slipping away quickly. And so I took a breath, leaned over to rest my chin on the side of the tub, looked at my baby girl, and prayed to know God in that moment -- in that insignificant, ordinary moment for which I gave thanks -- and I swear to you it was like a blanket was wrapped around my shoulders. I felt warmth and peace, and those worries were quickly lifted.
I love times of obvious "God moments," times of spiritual highs or great revelations of God's power and presence. And yet, I pray that I continue to be aware of God in the simple times and not just the hyped up moments. Because I truly believe that these moments of the "Holy ordinary" are the ways in which we can ground our faith and build up an understanding of God's presence, so that when those spiritual highs come along they will be a bonus, not a need. And when those times of despair creep in, it will be that much easier to know that we are not abandoned to the darkness.
Where have you seen God this past week? What about today? What about RIGHT NOW?
*I just decided to claim this as the term for what I experienced. Holy, in it's simplest explanation, is that which is "set apart." So the Holy ordinary, for me, are seemingly ordinary moments in our lives through which the experience of God has marked them as Holy/set apart.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
Orderly Chaos
I try, in vain, to keep order to our crazy life. Sometimes it works out, but mostly I find myself running around like a chicken with my head cut off in an attempt to keep up with the cleaning and straightening of our house and our schedules (I can't imagine what this will be like when we have teenagers!). The days it works out, I find that I'm feeling very proud of myself, only to realize that it's now bedtime and I've missed spending time with my family. The days I choose family over organization and cleanliness, I find that I get antsy about when it will all get done.
Part of the problem is that I like to be in control far too much, and I don't think I'm alone in that. Look at some common New Year's resolutions you might hear:
"This year I'm going to reach my weight goals/exercise more/eat better" (control over body and health)
"This year I am going to balance my time between work and play" (control over time and scheduling)
"This year I'm going to try harder to listen/understand/engage my loved ones" (control over relationships)
And I'm not saying that those are bad things, but that in some way or another, we all experience places and times that we might describe as unbalanced or out of control. Sometimes it can go as extreme as to call it chaos, where we are flailing our arms trying to grab onto something in an attempt to regain balance and composure. But are there also times when our attempts to get or keep things in our control become a detriment instead of something helpful? That just maybe someone else could have things under control, even when we personally do not? It turns out that not everything is dependent on me and my ability to keep it together and figure it out.
As promised, I have a quick story and a photo of our family's Nativity Advent Calendar from this year. Each day we pulled out another piece of our Nativity scene from the boxes that surrounded the painted picture in the middle (night sky, stable, trees, ground). We, of course, let Henry put the pieces on each day, because that was part of the excitement of it all and one of the ways we were able to talk to him about waiting and anticipating (he wanted to do them all at once). As our picture unfolded, I found that we had stars on the ground, a camel taking a rest in a tree, and sheep apparently floating out into space (or at least hovering in the air a bit). I hate to admit it, but it took so much restraint for me to not fix it by putting everything where they belonged. After all, I have to teach him, right? But, alas, I held back and told myself that I needed to allow for some freedom of creativity. As each day passed, I found that I was more and more humored by where he might put the next piece, and it bothered me less and less...I was actually kind of getting into our little alternative picture of that holy night. Then, to my surprise and without any direction from me, one day Henry started moving things around. He put the stars and angels in the sky, and moved animals back down to the ground, saying in a funny little voice, "Sheep don't go in the sky! They go down here!" He seemed to find his own order and direction to it. He took the time to work with it and decide what made sense to him and how he felt it should look. And here is our result (yes, there is still a wise man and a shepherd a bit up in the air, but to be fair there wasn't much room):
I can be in such a rush to "fix" things that I do not give others the opportunity to work it out for themselves, or to bring their own gifts and thought processes to the table. When I do that, I not only get a bit uptight, but I also deny my loved ones (particularly my growing and learning children) the right to use their own skills and God-given abilities. Or perhaps, just as bad, I stop seeing how things can be done differently and still done well...even if it's not how I would have first thought to go about it....and that sometimes the point is not the obvious orderliness.
With the Nativity, the point was not to have a pretty picture at the end, but to engage Henry in the story of Christ's birth. So what if he wanted to have the sheep floating in the sky, a camel in the tree, and fallen stars on the ground. None of that would have changed the fact that he was learning stories of faith, praying and reading scripture daily, and doing it all with his family. And if nothing else had come around to looking "orderly" he at least had the most important piece right....he always saved a spot right smack in the middle for baby Jesus.
I believe that when we are centered in Christ and let all else form around that, the rest of the chaos will either find its rightful place, or we will discover how insignificant it really was to begin with. As we enter into this new year, I pray that I hold to that truth as we continue to navigate life together as a family, living in the light of the one who has come in the midst of all the chaos to bring abundant life to you and to me. I pray that I can learn to appreciate our orderly chaos for what it is and to know that even if nothing else looks quite right in the picture, we will at least have saved a spot right smack in the middle of it all for Jesus.
Part of the problem is that I like to be in control far too much, and I don't think I'm alone in that. Look at some common New Year's resolutions you might hear:
"This year I'm going to reach my weight goals/exercise more/eat better" (control over body and health)
"This year I am going to balance my time between work and play" (control over time and scheduling)
"This year I'm going to try harder to listen/understand/engage my loved ones" (control over relationships)
And I'm not saying that those are bad things, but that in some way or another, we all experience places and times that we might describe as unbalanced or out of control. Sometimes it can go as extreme as to call it chaos, where we are flailing our arms trying to grab onto something in an attempt to regain balance and composure. But are there also times when our attempts to get or keep things in our control become a detriment instead of something helpful? That just maybe someone else could have things under control, even when we personally do not? It turns out that not everything is dependent on me and my ability to keep it together and figure it out.
As promised, I have a quick story and a photo of our family's Nativity Advent Calendar from this year. Each day we pulled out another piece of our Nativity scene from the boxes that surrounded the painted picture in the middle (night sky, stable, trees, ground). We, of course, let Henry put the pieces on each day, because that was part of the excitement of it all and one of the ways we were able to talk to him about waiting and anticipating (he wanted to do them all at once). As our picture unfolded, I found that we had stars on the ground, a camel taking a rest in a tree, and sheep apparently floating out into space (or at least hovering in the air a bit). I hate to admit it, but it took so much restraint for me to not fix it by putting everything where they belonged. After all, I have to teach him, right? But, alas, I held back and told myself that I needed to allow for some freedom of creativity. As each day passed, I found that I was more and more humored by where he might put the next piece, and it bothered me less and less...I was actually kind of getting into our little alternative picture of that holy night. Then, to my surprise and without any direction from me, one day Henry started moving things around. He put the stars and angels in the sky, and moved animals back down to the ground, saying in a funny little voice, "Sheep don't go in the sky! They go down here!" He seemed to find his own order and direction to it. He took the time to work with it and decide what made sense to him and how he felt it should look. And here is our result (yes, there is still a wise man and a shepherd a bit up in the air, but to be fair there wasn't much room):
I can be in such a rush to "fix" things that I do not give others the opportunity to work it out for themselves, or to bring their own gifts and thought processes to the table. When I do that, I not only get a bit uptight, but I also deny my loved ones (particularly my growing and learning children) the right to use their own skills and God-given abilities. Or perhaps, just as bad, I stop seeing how things can be done differently and still done well...even if it's not how I would have first thought to go about it....and that sometimes the point is not the obvious orderliness.
With the Nativity, the point was not to have a pretty picture at the end, but to engage Henry in the story of Christ's birth. So what if he wanted to have the sheep floating in the sky, a camel in the tree, and fallen stars on the ground. None of that would have changed the fact that he was learning stories of faith, praying and reading scripture daily, and doing it all with his family. And if nothing else had come around to looking "orderly" he at least had the most important piece right....he always saved a spot right smack in the middle for baby Jesus.
I believe that when we are centered in Christ and let all else form around that, the rest of the chaos will either find its rightful place, or we will discover how insignificant it really was to begin with. As we enter into this new year, I pray that I hold to that truth as we continue to navigate life together as a family, living in the light of the one who has come in the midst of all the chaos to bring abundant life to you and to me. I pray that I can learn to appreciate our orderly chaos for what it is and to know that even if nothing else looks quite right in the picture, we will at least have saved a spot right smack in the middle of it all for Jesus.
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