Sweet Summertime

For the past eleven years, I have been blessed to be a stay-at-home mom. This gift is never sweeter than the summer months when my boys are home from school. Our days are leisurely, long, and lazy...what else should a summer day be? Seth and Reed's favorite days are those we've labeled "pajama days," and they are exactly that. They lounge in their pjs all day, with nothing but free time stretching ahead of them. Bliss.

I confess that sometimes I tap into my inner child and leave on my pjs too. It feels luxurious to enjoy drawstring pants, a sloppy tank top, and a disheveled ponytail all day long. We curl up on the couch and watch back-to-back episodes of "Chopped," our latest television treat, evaluating each of the chefs and imagining what eclectic ingredients would be in our "mystery baskets."

These sweet summer days won't last forever. It dawned on me recently that we only have four summers left with Seth after this one passes. And most likely during some of those summer days he will be experiencing his first taste of the working world. This awareness makes me savor these days all the more.

For boys curled in their beds with sunshine coloring their flawless skin. For the sight of them playing side-by-side. For the sound of them chatting it up. And for the desire they have to still cuddle up with mama on the couch. It is a gift that I do not take forgranted.

Removing Myself

This weekend our church is having a women's retreat - the first one we've had in quite a long while. While many things pull at my shirt tail to keep me home, I am prying their grip and heading to the mountains.

As I prepare for this time away, I consider this idea of retreat. Let me continue to introduce you to Conversations Journal with the article "Thin Times and Thin Places," written by Margaret Guenther. In this excerpt, she contemplates the idea of retreating and Jesus' own example. She writes,

For me a retreat is a prayerful going apart, removing myself for a brief time from the clutter and busyness of everyday life. I’ve learned about this from Jesus. Again and again, he simply walks away from activity - preaching, teaching, healing, sharing meals with friends, and sparring skillfully with those who would trip him up. He goes away to pray, sometimes with his friends and sometimes alone. We’re not sure exactly what this means: Scripture is very sparing of details about means and method. Sometimes the crowd follows him, and often it is waiting when he returns. Remember his return from the Mount of Transfiguration: he enters immediately into a scene of agitation and activity, where the disciples have tried in vain to heal the epileptic boy, the scribes are arguing, and the crowd is surging. Real life is never far away.

The lesson here is clear: the retreat comes in the midst of life with all its demands. “Real life” awaits us upon our return. If we wait until there is time, we will never follow Jesus’ example and go apart.

How true! How often do we deny ourselve these moments of retreat and renewal because we have so many other demands vying for our time and attention? If we wait for a good time to get away, we'll never get there. These words of Ms. Guenther were so good and timely as I prepare to leave behind soccer games, tennis lessons, and loads of laundry and enter into a time of personal and communal retreat.

Distraction

How much of your life is predetermined by lists, and how often do you go to God and ask "Lord, today what would you have me do?" Even if all of the stuff in our life is "good stuff," how often do we ask God if He wants us involved in something?

Today as I spent a blissful Saturday morning sipping chai and catching up on podcasts by Ransomed Heart, I ran into one titled "Distraction." And it felt like I literally ran into it - BAM! They nailed me with questions like the ones posed above.

In fact, just yesterday I was pondering this very issue when I found myself overcommitted and overwhelmed. Yes, I was doing all good things, but I was filled with dread, worry, and self-loathing because I had lacked the courage to say no. And I certainly did not consider how God would have me invest my time and attention.

I know I am not alone. I mean, how often do we say yes because it is seems like the "right thing" to do (i.e. "Yes, I'll be the room mom...I will sew those costumes...I will chaperone the youth trip). How often do we add and add and add to our To-Do list until it outnumbers the hours in the day? How often do we consider others (and their opinions of us) when we commit rather than considering God (and how and where He calls us to invest our time, gifts, and heart)?

Also, how indulgent does a little downtime feel? Time sipping a cup of coffee without catching up on e-mails...taking a walk without pushing yourself for calorie burn...listening to music without folding laundry...driving down the road without returning phone calls...reading a book simply for the pleasure of it. Do we ever consider what our heart needs and how saying "no" to other things opens up space for us to say "yes" to God?

John Eldredge and Craig McConnell, who were speaking on this podcast, discuss this compulsion we have toward busyness. They explain, "Busyness can make you feel important...however, it is the substitute for meaning. It does not equal fruitfulness, meaning, or significance."

What's the answer in a time when the Spirit of the Age seems to be busyness? John and Craig offer this insight: "The core issue is walking with God. Learn to pause and ask God, 'Lord, what do you want me to do?'" The devotional book I am following for Lent develops this idea:

Talk with Me about every aspect of your day...Remember that your ultimate goal is not to control or fix everything around you; it is to keep communing with Me. A successful day is one in which you have stayed in touch with Me, even if many things remain undone at the end of the day. Do not let your to-do list (written or mental) become an idol directing your life. Instead, ask My Spirit to guide you moment by moment. He will keep you close to Me. (40 Days With Jesus by Sarah Young)

The core issue here isn't what we accomplish or fail to accomplish (whether that means chores, work, volunteering, or ministry). It's the issue of abiding. Abiding in Christ. Walking with God. Listening for His voice, and walking in obedience. From there, we can give from a cup that overflows...not from an empty vessel cracked and drained.

Real Time/Clock Time

I love when you pick up a book and it speaks clearly to you in your present circumstance. This has happened to me many times with all types of books, and it has taught me to read with a sense of expectation.

This evening as I was continuing Henri Nouwen's Turn My Mourning Into Dancing, I read this passage that discusses time - real time and clock time. Could there be a more suitable subject to ponder on New Year's Day? Nouwen writes:

"Hope that grows out of trust puts us in a different relationship to the hours and days of our lives. We are constantly tempted to look at time as chronology, as chronos, as a series of disconnected incidents and accidents. This is one way we think we can manage time or subdue our tasks. Or a way that we feel the victims of our schedules. For this approach also means that time becomes burdensome. We divide our time into minutes and hours and weeks and let its compartments dominate us.

As still not completely converted people we immerse ourselves in clock time. Time becomes a means to an end, not moments in which to enjoy God or pay attention to others. And we end up believing that the real thing is always still to come. Time for celebrating or praying or dreaming gets squeezed out. No wonder we get fatigued and deflated! No wonder we sometimes feel helpless or impoverished in our experience of time.

But the gospel speaks of 'full' time. What we are seeking is already here...We begin to see history not as a collection of events interrupting what we 'must' get done. We see time in light of faith in the God of history. We see how the events of this year are not just a series of incidents and accidents, happy or unhappy, but the molding hands of God, who wants us to grow and mature.

Time has to be converted, then, from chronos, mere chronological time, to kairos, a New Testament Greek word that has to do with opportunity, with moments that seem ripe for their intended purpose, Then, even while life continues to seem harried, while it continues to have hard moments, we say, 'Something good is happening amid all this.' We get glimpses of how God might be working out his purposes in our days. Time becomes not just something to get through or manipulate or manage, but the arena of God's work with us. Whatever happens - good things or bad, pleasant or problematic - we look and ask, 'What might God be doing here?' We see the events of the day as continuing occasions to change the heart. Time points to Another and begins to speak to us of God.

We are part of a very impatient culture, however. We want many things and we want them quickly. And we feel that we should be able to take away the pains, heal the wounds, fill the holes, and create experiences of great meaningfulness - now. It is not difficult to discover how impatient we are...But a view of time as kairos helps us to be patient in believing. If we are patient in this sense we can look at all events of each day - expected or unexpected - as holding a promise for us. Patience becomes in us the attitude that says that we cannot force life but have to let it grow by its own time and development. Patience lets us see the people we meet, the events of the day, and the unfolding history of our times all part of that slow process of growth."

As the calendar turns to a new year and another birthday looms in its wake, I tuck these words into my heart for meditation and inspiration. To be completely converted to live in kairos rather than chronos...now that would be something.

Blink

I confess...I like routine. The predictability of a day, the ability to anticipate what's coming, and the comfort that comes in knowing what to expect. Of course, parenthood has rocked my routine through the years (the 3 a.m. wake-up call by a sick little one; the "forgotten" science project due tomorrow; impromptu sleepovers and playdates.) But I try to maintain some routine despite demanding days and changing times.

Lately, I've been reminded how it can all change in the blink of an eye. And I'm not just talking about a glitch in the schedule. One's entire world can be forever altered with one decision, one phone call, one conversation. Tim and I have seen this happen a lot lately in the lives of co-workers, friends, and neighbors. Tragic decisions, heartbreaking situations, and lives turned upside down.

Just last week we were walking our puppy around the block when we noticed some men building a ramp onto our neighbor's back deck. Earlier this month the teenage son was in a car accident resulting in the amputation of a foot. They haven't returned home yet, but the house has begun to be prepared for their arrival and all of the changes now required for this young man's daily life.

A friend's wife has left him, and he's left figuring out what it means to split custody of their only child when she's moved two hours away.

Another friend's long-time boyfriend died of a heart attack. He was 42-years-old.

What is our response when we witness such events? Surprise. We just can't believe it when we hear about couples who are divorcing, friends with sick children, or an unexpected death.

The increase in these surprises over the course of the past few months is...well, surprising. What's going on? Perhaps it has to do with our age (we've both just crossed over into our 40s this year) and where we are in life. Midlife...or so they say...and it seems that either illness and injury lay in wait or way too many people are indulging in the "crises" they believe are due them.

Perhaps we live in an ivory tower and have forgotten that it is situated smack dab in the middle of a lost and broken world? I think we all too often think that everyone's tower is ivory too, and we either don't believe such calamity can fall our way or we fail to consider the hurts that the tower walls may contain.

Let me dispel any myths about our own tower...We cling to each other (and many times we push each other away). We laugh together (and we cry, sulk, and stew). We love each other (and we often wound each another too). We forgive (and we try to forget). We are thankful (but sometimes neglect to offer thanks).

Today I say thank you to the One who has provided it all...our family, our health, our joy, and our hope. And I cling to the one sure thing in a world that offers constant change: "Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever" (1 Chronicles 16:34).

Missing the Music

In a Washington Post article titled "Pearls Before Breakfast," writer Gene Weingarten relays a social experiment that took place in the Washington, D.C. Metro. Internationally acclaimed virtuoso Joshua Bell played his $3.5-million Stradivari for 43 minutes. How many of the people rushing by would stop to listen? Would they recognize the world-famous musician or even notice the glorious music? Would they throw a dollar or even some change into Bell's violin case?

Weingarten writes, "Each passerby had a quick choice to make, one familiar to commuters in any urban area where the occasional street performer is part of the cityscape: Do you stop and listen? Do you hurry past with a blend of guilt and irritation, aware of your cupidity but annoyed by the unbidden demand on your time and your wallet? Do you throw in a buck, just to be polite? Does your decision change if he's really bad? What if he's really good? Do you have time for beauty? Shouldn't you? What's the moral mathematics of the moment?"

Of the 1,097 people who passed by only seven people stopped momentarily to listen and only 27 gave money (totaling $32.17). Only one woman actually recognized Bell and acknowledged him after his performance. The entire experiment was recorded by hidden cameras, and the video is astounding - click here to watch. It makes me wonder how many times I have rushed by a "Joshua Bell" and failed to notice the glorious music in my busyness? Do I have time for beauty?

My pastor, Chad, showed this video yesterday morning at church. He spoke about how busy not only our lives have become, but also our churches. So much so that we often miss what it's all about: loving God (connect with God), loving others (connect with others), and the command to "go" (make a difference). Sometimes, oftentimes, in the hustle-and-bustle of Sunday mornings we miss Jesus and the beauty he offers, the grace he lavishes, the music he plays.

Do we rush past, missing him altogether? Too busy serving, socializing, or slipping in and out to notice him. Or do we stop and stand transfixed, like the one woman at the Metro? Like her, I desire to stand in awe by my good fortune. To come into the presence of Jesus and surrender everything else. To let the symphony he plays envelop me, inspire me, and change me. To stop rushing by and to start listening for the music.

Waiting

I've been waiting on a phone call for the past two weeks. Seriously. It happened like this: On July 31 I got a call I was hoping for but not really expecting (Do you know what I mean? The boy you like finally phones; the contest you entered notifies you of your prize; the company calls to offer you a job...). Of course, I wasn't home when the call came (Isn't that the way it always happens?), so I am eagerly listening to the recorded message when... Silence.

I'm not kidding. He's midsentence when the message abruptly ends. Nothing more. I don't know if it was a machine malfunction or if his cell phone dropped the call, but apparently he didn't know that his full message wasn't communicated because there was no follow-up call. I push "replay," hoping in vain that it was a mere glitch and somehow the full message will play this time.

It doesn't work. I rush to the computer to send him an e-mail and wait. And wait. I know he's been out of town. I've been out of town. So, I understand. And I wait. And I wonder, "What is this waiting all about?" I don't want to be too specific, but this whole scenario relates to a huge way I am trying to step out in faith and walk with God. So, I know that this waiting is about more than dropped calls and busy schedules. There's something important for me in it.

I know many friends right now who are waiting. Waiting for healing. Waiting for a spouse. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for a job. Waiting for a miracle. What does God have for us in the waiting? For me, I am learning to rest (He knows my needs and cares about them); to listen (He is awakening desire in these quiet moments); to pray (I never said waiting is easy); and to trust (He hasn't forgotten about me).

I'd love for my phone to ring today, this minute, this second. For the waiting to end. For me to know the rest of the message. And it may. I also know that it may not. It may be a quiet day with no calls but more waiting. I pray that in this time, I will draw near to God and seek more of what he has for me in the waiting.

Click below:

In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice. In the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.

Psalm 5:3

Right On Time

Very recently I read two timely pieces about time. Shared below, the first was written by author Henri Nouwen; the second by my former employer and forever mentor Jesse Palmer. I read them upon my abrupt return from Haiti, when I was reeling from the whirlwind trip. It was a revelation that the number of hours I spent with the children wasn't what determined whether my trip had impact; instead, I was in Haiti "for such a time as this" - God's timing, His call, His purposes. I invite you to read these two passages and consider Jesse's question: "How do you keep time?"

Clock-time is the time we have in this world. That time can be measured in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. Our clock-time, chronos in Greek, can become an obsession, especially when all that we are is connected with the clock that keeps ticking whether we are awake or asleep. ... All these concerns about our clock-time come from below. They are based upon the presupposition that our chronology is all we have to live. But looked upon from above, from God's perspective, our clock-time is embedded in the timeless embrace of God. Looked upon from above, our years on earth are not simply chronos but kairos - another greek word for time - which is the opportunity to claim for ourselves the love that God offers us from eternity to eternity. And so our short lives, instead of being that limited amount of years to which we must anxiously cling, become that saving opportunity to respond with all of our hearts, souls, and minds to God's love. ~ by Henri Nouwen

In Greek there are two words for time - chronos and kairos. Humans are consumed by the former. For us it's "real" time. It's the way we measure the length of life and schedule our the spending of heartbeats and breaths. For God, on the other hand, a thousand years being a day and a day a thousand years has a divinely different tick on time. We're all about time. He's all about timing. We're chronic about chronos while God really cares more about kairos. The mother of Gospel music Mahalia Jackson had a great saying, "God doesn't always come when you call, but He's always right on time." He's never too early or too late, always right on time ... the right time. His time! How do you keep time? ~ by Jesse Palmer