Open Windows; Cityflicker Things You'll See & Hear

Spring is here and with it comes cool breezes, cherry blossom, green ivy and open windows. And with open windows comes, a vulnerability I am not sure I am prepared for. Living in a community like mine - town homes on a busy urban road, it's inevitable that you will see and hear things from others you wish you didn't. And vise-verse  I guess to prepare you or maybe to somehow explain, here are a few things you'll see and hear as you walk past my house.

• At any given moment, you will hear me tell Nico to put his pants on. Yes, we have reached the special age of nudism and body obsession. I now know more about boy parts than I ever wanted to know. 
• With the nudity obsession, you will also hear me tell Nico where to pee. Just today, I had to tell him sternly that he is not allowed to urinate on his sister. All the while Selah giggling, totally clueless as to what I just saved her from.
• You will see a giant play horse in my window. Because while I try to keep my house as adult as possible in the common rooms, I also entertain a lot of moms with children and they need to do something. Riding "Giant the horse" in the window is a favorite pass time.
• From 8:30-9:30AM, unless I am hosting something or at a morning activity, you will hear PBS cartoons. Yes, I firmly believe in 'decaying' my children's minds with Curious George and The Cat in the Hat.. Judge me at will. I don't care.
• At 5:30PM, we eat dinner. Like clockwork. I believe in routine. And I enjoy cooking.
• Likewise, from 7-8pm, you will see our family sitting on couches, usually one child on my lap and the other on Michael's, watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. We mute the TV during commercials and read books and tickle little bellies. And when it's on, we shout out answers and giggle when we actually get it right.  
• You will hear screams of delight and cries of pain, because having a one year old and a two year old means lots of laughter and lots of band-aids. And also, lots of correction.

So if you're in the neighborhood, stop on by. Take a ride on the horse and watch a round of Jeopardy. Or just keep walking and close your ears.

Impressions & Their Catch 22's

 I'm always amazed when I'm wrong

...when it comes to people.

As narcissistic and conceited as that sounds, I pride myself in being a decent judge of character. And yet, I have been wrong more that I have been right. Why I'm ever shocked at the amazing capabilities of a person or the crappy character some people possess, is a quandary. I've seen a lot. I've been burned, badly. But I've also been blessed, beyond measure. 

Relationships are like that, if you allow them in. They can take you by surprise.

I don't know if it's my current stage in life (motherhood) or that I'm nearing my mid-thirties (yikes!!), but I've learned a lot about impressions - to listen to them sometimes and hold them loosely other times. What might first rear its (ugly or beautiful) head may not be true to the whole of the person. Here are just a few ways I'm learning to differentiate between the two.

Sometimes the warning signs that declare a person judgmental and capable of totally misunderstanding me are absolutely true. I was recently horribly misquoted in a meeting, based off a blog I wrote a year ago, and instead of being asked to clarify, was judged to have intentions and motives I simply never had. Mind you, I wasn't even AT the meeting. Sometimes, the hair on the back of my neck stands on edge when I hear people give strict commentary on alcohol use or women's right or certain parenting styles or racial issues. Sometimes I simply know, if they believe that, they'll never truly see, understand or even like me. Most of the time, I am happy to have made the initial boundary. For all parties involved. Because I usually lack the grace to shut my mouth. 

Sometimes though, the warning signs that declare a person judgmental and capable of totally misunderstanding me are, simply, wrong. I know that I have made countless snap judgments about a person based on a passing comment, where they attend church, their education, life decisions or what they wore last Tuesday.  I am hard-wired to do this. I don't apologize for being socially observant. But I am learning that I am a fallible observer, capable of great insight as well as terrible blind spots. People can make a closed-minded, conservative comment about a random subject but in fact, be quite liberal. I should know; I've been misunderstood as a conservative, Bible beating Evangelical on more than one occasion.

But these examples are trivial, really. They come down to preferences and social situations and time management and how annoyed I want or don't want to be on any given day. These situations deal with my feathers being ruffled, not my heart being broken. There is a difference between the possibility of being pissed off and the feasibility of being totally fucked over. In these situations, I am learning to proceed with caution. (Confession; my yellow lights are usually blinking the fastest in church.. I blogged about this here.)

The more difficult warning signs are the ones that point to real danger. These are the kinds of first impressions that are 99% accurate, valuable and should be immediately obeyed. With my children, I listen to these warnings. With myself, I generally have not. But I am getting better.

I have a friend that was mugged after walking out of her apartment, seeing a man coming toward her car, feeling endangered but for a litany of reasons (not wanting to racially profile or gender stereotype or deal with a world that so often makes women, victims) did not listen to her impressions. She was forced to the ground at gun point and fortunately just had her purse (and sense of safety) stolen. It could have been worse. But it could have never happened had she listened to herself. 

There are also more prevalent examples of emotional cautions we receive and should listen to, but often ignore. For whatever reason, I believe we are all susceptible to a certain kind of unhealthy personality type. For instance, highly controlling and charismatic people, usually in positions of authority, are a weak spot for me. Even when I get chills of terror and dread when interacting with them, I am like a moth to the flame. (I'll leave the psychoanalysis on my weakness for another post or two.) My point is, it is wise to listen to those warnings. I have made real strides toward guarding my heart in this way, but I am still susceptible. We all need to evaluate our history of relationships. Where there is a negative pattern, we should learn to RUN LIKE HELL away from the personality type who gives us warning. I wish my friend cared more about herself at that time than being politically correct. I wish I would have cared more in previous year about my heart than I've cared about snuggling up to perceived power. 

In my teen years and into my twenties, I often found myself diving right into relationships without any guard, blindly trusting that the system (school/work/church) I was giving myself to would discern for me. I was always quite surprised when a person I implicitly trusted rejected or betrayed me. It's only in the past several years that I have started to outgrow this and proceed more responsibly. Where every previous relationship encounter registered green, I now read yellow or red. I simply need to see more about a person before green is given because I am often so wrong. 

And I guess that's the thing.  It really is a learning experience that's tapered to the individuals we meet within the context of our own life's history.  We use the past to help us gauge the present and the future, but people sometimes surprise.  And sometimes they don't. But this is the catch 22 - We are right. We are wrong. Regardless, we need to listen and learn the difference between what is deserving of a yellow warning and what is a red warning. Unfortunately, practice makes perfect. I guess by the time I'm 40, I'll no longer be caught off guard.  

Lenten Lessons from a Passion Play

Lent was very full. There were no breaks or times of lament - no space for the introspection and fasting that usually accompanies the season. I was busy, largely due to my participation in Why Must He Die? with the Tri-County Choir Institute under the direction of Linda Wallace.  It was a truly wonderful experience. I met lovely and talented people and in the process of acting the part of Mary, the mother of Christ, I came face to face with some truths that have spoken volumes in my faith. Here are a few photos and Lenten thoughts, based on the characters in the play.

1. Mary, Mother of Jesus: I think Mother Mary had real moments of regret as she watched her son be brutalized, unjustly punished, nailed to a cross and killed. I think there had to be moments where she wished she wouldn't have been chosen - moments that she wished for normal - moments she regretted ever saying 'Yes!' to her God. She was utterly and helplessly unable to take her child's pain away. Yes, I do believe there had to have been moments that she questioned the goodness of God - His grand plan to bring her vulnerable, perfect baby into a world so cruel. That side of the cross, Mary had to have uttered the same thing her child screamed in agony from a cross, My God, My God - why has Thou forsaken me? It was her cross, too.
   
   
   This side of redemption, we can all deny God's power and the perfection of His plans when all appears dark. And can't it look pitch black sometimes? This Lent, just in my faith community, we have buried retired Saints and people in their twenties. The news has been merciless to a high school rape victim. Boys have used weapons to slaughter classmates. Knives have been used to cut human flesh (in a Target story). We are so fucking broken here. As a mother of two small children, I am horrified at the reality of this world in which they will grow and learn, experience pain and injustice. Having children is like having our hearts walk around outside our bodies. This is our cross as parents; navigating redemption in this painful place. It seems an impossible task - to be like Mary. Her vulnerable strength and grace to endure will forever be my parental prayer.
   
   
   
2. Solome, Mother of James and John: This was a pretty intense woman. She had to be - being the mom of the "sons of thunder." Attempting to secure the destiny of her children by requesting Jesus place them at His right and left in eternity was pretty ballsy. And totally respectable, as western cultured parenting styles go. (Reminds me of the infants pre-registered for 30,000/year kindergartens, who guarantee graduating placement in Ivy League colleges, 18 years down the road.) I wonder if she was the one who created that old saying, "Be careful what you wish for." Because I'm sure, upon seeing Jesus hang on a cross with two dying criminals at his right and left, the irony was not lost on her. I'm certain the symbolism gave her great pause. How limited her view of success was. How humbling it was to realize the cup she thought was a silver chalice was really a splintered mug of poison.
   But don't we all wish for easy success? Refinement without fire - hero status without pain - freedom without cost? Don't we wish that for our children - praying they are healthy, happy, whole and complete - untouched by rejection, failure, injustice and fear? This is the shit of it. Well rounded human beings are never untouched by the cruelty of life. Solome's son James was the first to be martyred. And John was the only Apostle who wasn't. Those parenting odds suck. And yet her story is important to me. It keeps me in check concerning my wishes, for self and family - for it's rarely possible to have great success without real suffering.
   
3. Mary Magdalene: What a woman! She embodied the redemptive work of Christ. From the rags of used up whoredom to the riches of eternal love, Mary Magdalene was clearly a woman changed. Her strength and loyalty tested and proven.
   The depicting of Mary Magdalene in this particular play, and in most passion plays, is the one major element I whole-heartily disagree with. Mary was not a woman plagued with the "Is He man or is He the Son of God" debate. She did not misunderstand His love or her own in return. She was not shallow enough to have a crush on her Savior. She was no confused school-girl. This was a woman who had had the quintessential hard-knock life. She was fiercely intelligent; she'd been around. Jesus rescued her from depravity and sanctified her. She followed Him the ends of the earth; she went with Him to the cross. She wept with His mother and later, she witnessed His resurrected purity.
   Mary always gives me hope. She inspires me never to feel devalued as a woman or made to feel I am too intense about the people closest to me. I relate to her fierceness. And resolve.  She out-'couraged' most of the Apostles and went to the cross with Christ's mother and John. She was brave.
   
   
   
4. Simon Peter: The Rock - the one whom Jesus chose to lead and carry out the legacy of His Kingdom on earth. Peter has always been my favorite Apostle. His brazen commentary, unabashed loyalty and complete cluelessness make for one of literature's most complex characters. What strikes me most about Peter is this; he wasn't a pussy. He wasn't the cliche' church guy who acted a part like so many Christian men do these days. Peter was out - honest - cutting - trustworthy. The antithesis of a Pharisee.  Peter said what others were too weak to say themselves. Peter messed up big and denied his Savior, but the beauty of the story, to me, is that only people capable of huge offenses and mistakes are likewise capable of great successes and victories. "He who has been forgiven much, loves much." - Luke 7:47
   Of course Jesus chose Peter to build the Church. Because the Church Jesus created was never meant to be a jewel-filled temple of white-gloved fakes. He wanted a rough and tumble playground of real people - the kind of people that mess up, confess, accept forgiveness, walk in redemption and share the message of Emmanuel  - a God who got dirty WITH us. Real men; real women - not a city of angels. Authentic to the core and rough around the edges. If our churches seem a little too smooth and plastic, they aren't the Church Christ sanctioned Peter to build. This reminder cuts my church-girl ideology to the core. I think we're doing church wrong. *ducks*
   
   
   
5. John, The Beloved: I can promise you, I have never once given the Apostle John enough credit. I guess I took him for a pacifist, the first hippy maybe (and we all know how much I dislike hippies). I admit, I thought him a little weak. In contrast to Peter, John approached Jesus differently. And became described as "the one whom Jesus loved." 
   Just because someone isn't loud and abrasive, full of grand gestures and risky action, doesn't mean they aren't strong. It doesn't mean they don't boldly believe, passionately care and deeply love. It takes character and great strength to suffer alongside a friend. Most people check out. Most people shut down. Most people talk a big game but never fully deliver. 
   Not John. John was the only Apostle to go to the cross. And he didn't just go, he supported the weight of a mother's loss, the weight of Mary Magdalene's tears, the weight of the world on his best friend, his Christ's shoulders. This was a strong man. We shouldn't judge so quickly - valuing grandeur as if it's more sincere. While Peter's strength was geared toward and utilized to build the church, a ministry to the masses - John's arms held Christ most precious persons, a grass roots ministry to individuals. 
   I am reminded in this contrast that introverts and extroverts alike are called to do marvelous and extraordinary things. And I am cautioned to remember always that love is not weak. In the end, it's Love that laid down His life on a cross and it was the one whom He loved that stayed until the end. Love sustains all.
   

   
   
6. 
   

   Judas Iscariot: There is a Judas in all of us. And I'm not talking the typical betrayal aspect of his legacy. Or his suicidal tendencies. I'm talking about the shock and horror over the painful results of forcing the hand of God and Him not caving to the demand. I don't know what Judas believed as he breathed his last, but I do suspect this; he never thought Christ would actually get sentenced to death. He wanted political freedom. He thought he knew how to obtain that. He wanted Jesus to conform to his own image of salvation. He simply got tired of waiting for Jesus to do what he wanted. So he forced the hand of God.Don't we all?Don't we all get tired of waiting for our perceived answers of salvation? And in so doing, we create our own god just by creating our own answers."If I looked like that, then I'll be loved." (and happy)"If I got this job, then I'd be successful." (and happy)"If I could have children, then I'd be fulfilled." (and happy)"If I get this special degree, then I'll make the money that I need." (to be happy)

   We're all so shallow and petty at times - telling the God of the Universe what He should and should not do in our lives to make us into what we think will bring us joy. I know there is a lot more to Judas' story, but my heart hurts for his plight in this way; I see him in me.

I could probably go on. There is so much to say, so much to relate to. In the end, I was deeply moved by this play and grateful, challenged and changed by the way in which my cast-mates fleshed out such deep truths. I walk away from Lent this year with renewed faith in His story, their story, my story. 

Randoms (11)

I have to get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part eleven.

• It's been FOREVER since I've updated. There are about 100 reasons for that but in the spirit of honesty I'll just say, things have been very personal lately - the kind of personal that would be inappropriate to make public and foolish to tiptoe around. Since I'm not someone to skirt around these things, I simply found myself unable to update. Not a whole lot has changed, per say, but circumstances can be funny. I find that when there is even small changes, especially in attitude and perspective, when I intentionally make time for my own mind's wanderings, freedom of thought and expression soon follow. So here goes nothing and everything;
• The children are great. They are rocking the room-share pretty darn well and with a few exceptions, it's been a joy. Out of spacial need or not, it was always important for me to room-share. Some of my favorite memories as a child have to do with sharing a room with my sister, or sleepovers with my cousins. I want to give my children the space to bond and share and whisper in the dark.
• Last year I mentioned that I had wanted to be a part of a Passion Play entitled, Why Must He Die, with the Tri-County Choir (Sewickley Choir Institute). It's dark and beautiful and haunting and happy. It used to simply be for high school kids but in recent years was opened up to alumni adults. I can honestly say, some of my dearest and warm high school memories surround the cast and music of this show. I was in it for three years and those years were some of my happiest when I was in the presence of my fellow friends and cast mates.
  I auditioned last year as alumni and at the last second had to decline. Post-partum just a few months, I simply couldn't give myself to 10, 4 hour rehearsals and 10-15 performances in the Lent season. But this year, I can. So with fear and trepidation and a few vocalizations with my good and talented friend, I auditioned. And was cast as...DUN, DUN, DUN, Mary, Mother of Jesus.
  This is a role I do not take lightly. Even more than my surprise at being cast as one of the leads, I am deeply moved by Mary. As a mother, I've contemplated Mary and her experiences on more than one occasion and not just at Christmas. I wonder about her, raising a prophetic child - the Son of God - and yet still dabbling in all the practical stuff we moms deal with. How did she balance that? And also, as an evangelical taught to almost dishonor Mary to balance out the Catholic idol worship of her (their words not mine), she's a great mystery to me. Her pondering haunts me, in a deeply moving way. Who was this woman and how can I be more like her? Lastly, as the one who was always cast as the harlot in the show,  I can't help but smile at the ironic choices this year. It makes me ponder redemption.
  If you are in the area, please come to a show. I'd love your support.

Performances include:

1. Fri. March 8 at 7pm- Our Lady of Grace Church 310 Kane Blvd. (Scott Township) 15243
2. Sun. March 10 at 2pm- St. Suzannah Parish 200 Stotler Road (Penn Hills) Pgh 15235
3. Sun. March 10 at 7pm- St. James Church 200 Walnut Street (Sewickley) 15143
4. Fri. March 15 at 7pm- Holy Martyrs Parish 353 W. 9th Ave. (Tarentum) 15084
5. Sun. March 17 at 2pm- Holy Spirit Parish 608 Farragut St. (Millvale) 15209
6. Sun. March 17 at 5pm- Sacred Heart Church 154 Orchard Street (Emsworth) 15202
7. Fri. March 22 at 7pm- St. Elizabeth Parish 1 Grove Place (Baldwin) 15236
8. Sun. March 24 at 2pm- Good Shepherd Church 1101 Braddock Ave. (Braddock) 15104
9. Sun. March 24 at 7pm- North American Martyrs Church 2526 Haymaker Road (Monroeville) 15146
10.Good Fri. March 29 at 12 Noon- St. John of God Parish 1011 Church Street (McKeesRocks) 15136
11.Good Fri. March 29 at 7pm- St. Patrick Church 317 West Pike Street (Canonsburg) 15317

• Speaking of LENT, this year I've decided to force myself into a moderation fast of alcohol. In the spirit of balance and actually LEARNING something, I will be allowing myself one day a week where I have some booze. I feel there is something in this for me to discover about myself or about my relationship with alcohol. And I welcome the opportunity to plan my week(s) accordingly.
• Another Lent thing; Michael and I decided we are going to kiss a LOT more this Lent. We've gotten into this habit of just rushing around and saying bye and I love you, but not taking the time go really kiss one another as a greeting or farewell or just because. We started this weekend actually and the impact it's having on the children is pretty intense, in a good way. For starters, they both stare at us as if the whole world just froze and for ONCE, they are silent and captured. Selah giggles after a while and Nico demands kisses for himself and then comments about those kisses. Like this morning, "Daddy kisses my hair." He's always pretty concerned about where things happen on his body. (toddler, boy, oh crap!) 
• At random, I was asked to speak at my church for their Ladies Day at the Center: Matthew 6:21. I was asked to speak to mothers. I'm still compiling my little "talk" but I do know I'm going to speak on battling self-condemnation with all the "should's" we moms face while raising children of any age, setting boundaries and so forth. It is extremely stressful for me, mostly given the fact that I've only been a mother for 2.5 years and for those who know me well, know I have barely a clue as to what I'm doing. But I tried to get out of it like 17 times and even picked a somewhat risque title to throw off the church conservatives and STILL they wanted me. So, "Stop 'SHOULD'-ing On Yourself, Mom" workshop will take place Feb 23. If you want to come and support me or heckle me, register here.
• I'm contemplating my life a little these days in the stay at home mom gig, my little @cityflicker Freelance business gig, the having more children thing and/or working full or part-time. There are so many catch 22's associated with these factors and while I'm happy to have the choice to feel out what's truly in my heart, I have to admit - my heart is torn. Did you know that mothers who work part-time rank the happiest women and stay at home mothers rank the most depressed? That's crazy. And, um, not at ALL surprising to me. I make a very concerted effort to DO things away from my children and it turns out, there is a LOT to do during the evening and weekend hours.
• One of the most difficult things in life is living in waiting. But I find the more I think and pray and read the Holy Scriptures, the more I am convinced that faith is worth the wait, that character is defined in these moments and that I want to be someone who is reliable and dependable and not so rocked by the shifting sand that is this broken economy, violent world affairs, an out of control climate - this life. I love that cheesy song by Justin Bieber:
  
  As long as you love me/We could be starving/We could be homeless/We could be broke As long as you love me/I'll be your platinum/I'll be your silver/I'll be your gold
  And that's the thing, the special secret to everything is Love. That's the key to living in the wait - giving and receiving love. Circumstances aside, God loves us. And I love. And that is the refinement that makes gold, expensive and pure and beautiful and worthy.
  
  So I leave you with this happy, cheesy song. Be loved, friends. Even and especially if you're living in the wait. ~Enjoy.

Until Next Time,
Signing Off

Faith Is Worth The Fight

This too shall pass

I wrote this poem many moons ago, but today it is heavy on my mind. It's been a little dark in my heart lately. A hope has left and I'm grappling with the vacillation between fatalistic surrender and the discipline of effort sustaining where faith has failed. Or alludes. Or needs redefined.

The band delirious? sang these lyrics in their song Obsession. It's been one of those stick-to-my-soul kind of lyrics since I first heard it a decade ago. I feel lonely without hope. I feel desperate without vision. Conjuring hope, vision, purpose - these are hard things to snap and create or re-create or re-create again. When nothing satisfies (credit that to the wonderful Jenn Knapp), when the soul is dry and thirsty (credit that to a Psalm of David), when the storm overpowers the lightness of day (credit to myself - as seen below), what can be done? Can personal effort really make change? How does a semi-(emotionally or spiritually) crippled person walk across a room for help, sustenance, redemption - a will to choose something (anything), when the heart is numb? When the future is blank? When the purpose in the pain is intangible? When all effort seems to be flailing about? Or failing.

I don't have answers, but I do have the Psalms. Passages full of meaning, depth, struggle - the GOD I'M FREAKING OUT...BUT kind of stuff. BUT. But. But you are Good. You are Love... This too shall Pass. Peace and direction and vision and purpose will be restored. Defined. Redefined. Rediscovered. Exile doesn't last forever. Beauty for Ashes. All things new.

In light of those age-old passages of struggling comfort, here is one of my own - my "modern day psalm." Today, I meditate on what it meant to my 22 year old self's confusion and angst and rough waters to write it. And what it means in the present. If it was true for me then, it will be true for me now.

A simplistic faith sustains. Faith is worth the fight.

This Too Shall Pass

The storm overpowers the lightness of day

In its consistent sleet of darkened memories

I know not when it began but I know its strength

I've been here before-it knows no boundaries.

In the murky shadows, near and in the distance

The cold breath of fear has its claws in my frozen heart

Unable to take shelter because of its enormity

Stuck and struck with its embrace, I cannot escape.

Then reality sets in and battle scars stand on edge

The wisdom from days gone by presents itself trusting

I draw from every place I know to find strength

The ability to keep walking, moving, standing

On the truth and in the light that darkness shall pass

I hold to the simplistic faith that sustains

And I fight. Because I've learned, from days spent drenched

Never to question in the dark what I knew to be true in the light.

C2003, Lindsay Louise Bachman

Randoms (10)

I have to get these things off my chest. They tickle my mind late at night and serve to distract me during the day. Sometimes it's the little lingering, unresolved thoughts that produce the most stress. At any rate... here are my "randoms," part ten.

• Selah, my second baby, turned one last week. We celebrated in the usual way - with a party, full of cousins and cake and pumpkin painting. It was a fall fest of sorts. I think the other children had more fun than she did. She seemed quite overwhelmed with the chaos (that's my girl!) and promptly got sick two days later, right in time for her actual birthday. But despite her nonchalant attitude about the party, Selah is usually quite pleasant and thrilled to engage people. She makes very hilarious sounds but doesn't say any real words. (I don't count dada because I'm not certain she knows what the word means!! Also, I'm holding out that mama will be her first real word.) Selah is a precious addition to our family. Precious!!! She is determined, efficient, beautiful and so quirky. She does very odd things that make us all giggle and adore her all over again. Daily, she captures my heart. We all melt in her presence. I'm so excited to see who she continues to grow and develop into in this coming new year of life.
• I continue to become more and more uncertain about our future here in Pittsburgh or in the least, I'm very much questioning whether or not things should continue as they are. (church, location, events, etc...) I don't know if it's the natural, preprogrammed, school days ideology that the season of fall equates change or if it's the job search Michael continues to explore in other states and countries that has me unsettled. Really? In truth, I simply just believe in my core that change is a-comin'. I've been saying it and sensing it for months and although I know I'm a bit crazy, I'm not often wrong about change. I smell it; like a shark smells blood. And it gives me a craving for the new, for the interruption, for the pursuit to organize the uncontrollable, a chance to face my fears. Masochistic, bored or really brilliant? We shall see.
• I got into an interesting discussion recently with an older couple while waiting for a friend to join me for happy hour. They were slightly mocking their friend who recently purchased a great camera, takes good pictures and now suddenly identifies himself a photographer. We talked a bit about the arts and how it can be quite complicated to know when it is appropriate to identify oneself as "an artist." (photographer, designer, writer, etc..) On one hand, I've taken some pretty awesome pics of my children. But I am not a photographer. On the other hand, I do write (fairly well? i hope.) but still cringe when introduced as someone who does so. It's a difficult and humbling thing to risk identifying oneself by a passion and yet, what else SHOULD we identify ourselves as? I am not the perfect Christian or Wife or Mother or Social Media Consultant but I still AM those things. I am not the most faithful blogger or the best writer, but I still DO.  When does DO become AM? When is it appropriate to identify ourselves by these things? I don't know; but I'm thinking through it. (And I would love your thoughts.)
• Speaking of happy hour(s), I need them. Often. Like once a week. On top of my intimate once a week Girls Night with my three best friends in Pittsburgh. I recently talked to an old friend across the state about how consuming parenting can be and encouraged her to get out once a week for coffee or drinks with a girlfriend. I really believe in getting out, especially as a SHM. It's what gives me hope in the monotony. It's not about the drinkS (solely), it's about the make-up and high heels and adult conversation. It's about being human. It can be so easy to lose yourself in the grind of anything. I'm careful not to. It takes intentionality, planning and budgeting but it's worth it. I'm so lucky to have a husband who agrees and does what it takes to support me in this.
• I recently had a CLOSET CRASH COURSE with a friend. You can read about it here. It was a wonderful experience and I'm finding myself getting more creative. She gave me some great pointers and hints but mostly, she gave me courage and confidence in my closet. I'm still not at "my perfect weight" (does that even exist??), but she showed me how to use what I have to be current and accessorize better. That makes me feel good, especially in the morning when I'm selecting what to wear (or not).
• My children get up at 7:15 most every morning. Instead of waiting for them to act as my alarm clock, I've been getting up at 7am for a quick shower, make-up and dress. Yes, I can do all of those things in about 15 minutes. I can't even begin to tell you how much better my days are going since I began this discipline. It also helps that the kid's outfits are set out the night before and milk cups and bottles are filled and waiting in the fridge. Some people would call this crazy. I think it's genius. Instead of reacting to the chaos of early morning children, I anticipate their needs and have it all as ready as possible. It's the difference between a frazzled and peaceful morning. It works for me, for us.  But this, this little kid stuff is still hard. Worthwhile and beautiful but hard.

Signing off...lots of love to you.

I'm Always Glad I Came

...the correlation between sex and worship

Here's my confession; I don't always want to have sex with my husband.

Here's another; I don't always want to go to church, or more specifically, I don't always want to worship.

Something I've learned over the years of being a Believer and therefore a worshipper of God is that spiritual disciplines don't exist so God can enslave us with yet another mandate. God isn't about the system or the program; God does not ask us to jump through hoops just because He can.

One of the biggest fallacies I experienced growing up in a legalistic, Independent Baptist church is that God can be bought. Ironically, for a denomination that so heavily rests on a free-will, saved by grace, anti-Catholic doctrine, they put a hell of a lot of weight on works. No, you can't technically get to heaven for doing your daily devos and witnessing, but you sure get a crap load of gold stars, I mean crowns, for doing so. In that faith practice, there is certainly a narrow way to heaven and that path is a landmine, riddled with ways to work your way into God's good graces.

If spiritual disciplines do not exist to win God's favor, why is it important to read the Bible, pray, meditate, fast and worship? Do the spiritual disciplines really even matter?

For me, it's the basics. It's getting a solid foundation set so that when hard times come and faith-testing times seem endlessly knocking, I have built healthy habits that point me toward positive thinking, a productive prayer life, an attitude of thanks and a heart of worship. Even in the bleakest times in my faith and even if most of my prayers consist of me M-F-ing the situation, I still pray. I commune with my Savior. If I don't have that, I don't have much.

And even when I'm mad at my church. Or Church at large. Even when I disbelieve and distrust and question the entirety of faith gatherings as a concept, I am simply unable to disconnect from corporate worship for very long. Because it's habit. It's what I do. It's who I am. And even if I fought with my family and disagreed with the opening prayer and someone looked at me funny before worship even started, I'm always (or at least usually) glad I came. I'm much happier after I do. There is something to be said for perseverance. There is gratification in obedience.

Here's why I'm discovering that sex is like worship...

Usually based off of bad hollywood depictions or sheer ignorance there is this ever-present thought that sex should be some super-glamorous thing, every single time. That the ideal sexual expression consists of a happy couple, in the mood, at the exact time the other is, raring to go at the drop of a hat. (or when the kids go to bed) If this depicts your marriage, please come over (with a few bottles of wine) and explain yourself to me. For most of us, post-kids especially, it's not that glamorous. Sometimes, in even the happiest, well-rested moments, it's still one person conjuring up the energy and desire to "do it," simply because it's what the other one wants/needs.

The faithful practice of marital sex seems to come right down to the basics; a solid foundation set so that when hard times come and relational testing times seem endlessly knocking, there has been healthy habits built that point toward positive thinking, open communication, an attitude of thanks and a heart to give pleasure. Even in the bleakest times of marriage and even if most dinner table conversations consist of bills, kids, bitching and moaning, it's vital to come together, unified in intercourse. It's a discipline - giving of self for the sake of what is right, needed, requested or wanted. If we can't do that, we can't do much.

Like worship, sex is in-part, communion - the bread and cup...to remember. Remember. Remember the times that were light and lovely, easy and endearing, tested and true. Like worship, there will be times that seem effortless, fluid, exciting and alluring - overwhelmingly enticing - like moving air and water and fire and earth. But other times, when reality is so hard it feels like it's breaking you and your spouse apart, there is something to be said for perseverance, for going through the motions. There is gratification in obedience - an act of worship. I believe God honors that. Our spouses will too. No matter what else is going on in life, personally, I'm ALWAYS glad I came. I'm much happier after I do.

Something I've been challenged with this summer, in both my marriage and faith journey is not to question in the dark what I knew to be true in the light - to stick to the disciplines - even if it feels like I'm going through the motions. One reward of many? I'm always glad I came.