Swing and turn, Live and learn

About a year and a half ago, I wrote this article for my MOPS group (Mothers of Preschoolers). It was entitled "Jubilee," based on the lyrics of an old folk song, reborn by Elizabeth Mitchell on one of her CD's for children. Since I wrote this, I've thought of it many times; the message that God spoke to me through this song and the insight He gave me from these lyrics continue to challenge my perspective. I'm here again, in the spot where these words were first spun together in my heart. I need the message again. I thought maybe you would too.

In honor of the song and its message, my friend Shauna and I will be selling this banner (and many others) at the Mariners Boutique coming up. The word in itself is a banner in my life, and perhaps the message of Jubilee will resonate with you as well.

. . .


If I had no horse to ride,
I’d be found a crawlin’
Up and down this rocky road
Lookin’ for my darlin’.

Swing and turn, jubilee.
Live and learn, jubilee.

How difficult it is to know another person. In fact, who truly knows you but God? Can you say with confidence that another person on this earth really understands who you are and why you are here? Perhaps your mother has a good guess, or your best friend presumes to know. But often we are merely looking for one another and waiting to be found.

This is especially true in marriage. If it is difficult to understand another human being, how much harder and more perplexing is it to understand a member of the opposite sex? They are wholly other than you, and created for totally different purposes. If you were like me, you signed up for a marriage expecting to be found, or known, in a way I know now is reserved only for the Lord. Intimacy between two people – two innately broken people - can only go so far. It is part of the reason why this earth will never feel like home; unlike heaven, this place has rocky roads, upon which we are constantly crawling, looking for each other.

A portion of an old folk song entitled “Jubilee” is above. My thesaurus gives synonyms for “jubilee”: celebration, festival. And if you read the lyrics, you’ll see the instant dichotomy. There is at the start a sense of loss and pain and longing, followed by references to dancing and celebrating. If I am figuratively crawling along a rocky road, in other words making an excruciating effort, to connect with a person whom I love, I am not celebrating.

Why did the author of this song juxtapose those two concepts, celebration and hardship? From a worldly perspective, the two just don’t ever meet. Rough times are just that, and parties are saved for later, when things get better. But this doesn’t seem at all to be what God has intended for those of us who follow Him. I am convinced the “abundant life” of which the Bible speaks is not referring to those smooth spurts we all experience from time to time. Life is more like a dance which swings and turns us every which way. We either move with its rhythm or contrary to it. Perhaps being able to sway with the rhythm of what life brings, and not against it, is where the abundance and the jubilee are found.

The “live and learn” part of the song barely escapes being reduced to cliché. But when I dig into it, I understand its gravity. Most people choose to ignore the “learn.” Life spins them a little too quickly, or in an unexpected direction, and all they can focus on is getting back to familiar ground. We’ve all done this, fought an unpleasant circumstance, unwittingly wasting the potential lessons to be learned as we desperately strive to reassemble what used to be. So there is celebration in being able to stuff that instinct to resist the unfamiliar, and seize the opportunity for growth which every trial brings. What kind of person would you be without such learning? Would you have any strength, endurance, or courage at all if you hadn’t survived some dizzying spins in your past? So the question is, in a time of trial, am I allowing God to lead as we dance through the steps of growth? Or do I struggle against His lead, trying to grasp my own footing? Either way, the circumstances of our lives will indeed come. So isn’t it all a matter of choosing which perspective we will have? Swing and turn, jubilee. Live and learn, jubilee.

How exactly God leads us in our personal dance is a little mysterious. I know that I’m at Point A in my walk with Him and my personal growth, and I know that I want to reach Point B, but how to get there is another question. More often than not, I don’t really want to take the steps needed; it’s much safer to stand still. Sometimes I may as well be engaged in a conversation like this with God as He leads me in some unfamiliar steps: “Lord, I’m slipping. I don’t think I can do this…Wait! Can’t you see I’m slipping! I’m about to fall!” I then feel Him hold me a little tighter, quietly replying, “I’ve got you.” The grace and strength my Lord bestows on me to carry me through trials is unexplainable. I cannot explain its presence, its shape, or its persistence. I simply know its source is God and His love for me. He is an expert at my personal dance because He is the only one who knows me through and through. Though I may search for connection with others in my life (of course we all need to fervently pursue relationships), at the end of the day, it is enough to be found and deeply known by Him alone.

Jesus, our Wonderful Counselor, tells us, “In this life you will have much trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

10 things of beauty

A little while ago, I looked at my clock. It said 10:10. And of course you know the date today. 10/10/10. So it got me thinkin'.

I've been struggling with beauty this weekend, that is, in terms of finding it in tangible ways in my life. That sounds terrible, but it's true. It is hard to explain and I need to write more on that later.

For now, I'm making a list. Because I need to.

10 things of beauty I can embrace right now

1. Reading with my kids. We read. I'm proud of that time spent; it feels very productive. My son took the photo of us above, arm outstretched as far as possible. We have a mutual love for sharing stories. Tonight it was this. The illustrations are so incredible.


2. No one in my home is sick.

3. I'm caught up on laundry (which means more time for crafts and writing).

4. I wrote down a plan for moving some things around and reducing clutter in two areas of my house last night, and I plan to execute said plan very soon. Watch out, visible enormous box of Hot Wheels and same-sized box of zillions of plastic members of the animal kingdom! You can no longer live in the family room.

5. I got to sleep in till 8 a.m. two days in a row this weekend. One of the days it may have been 8:30. And then I may have lingered until 9. Beauty.

6. I got to worship in my great church this morning and sing one of my favorite songs. Here is The Stand, by Hillsong. (It's always recorded live, so it's impossible to find a super clear version.)



7. I have friends who remind me who I am (and whose I am) when I start to forget. You know who you are.

8. I have outlets for my creative energy on the horizon. This month, I'm preparing for some tidbit showings in November. (tidbit is the teeny children's clothing line my friend Shauna and I work on when we feel like it - we have some amazing new things that are NOT for kids. They are for mommies who like having beauty in their home.) We're cooking up other fun things too. You'll see.

9. In the words of my then boyfriend, now husband, circa 1992: "You already have everything you'll ever really need." He meant in my heart, and I knew that he was right even at 17.

10. When I can't see beauty around me (instead, I get tempted to focus on messes that need me, frustration from my kids' school schedules, relational discord, dog throw-up, or the bathroom that needs cleaning), I have a love, tried and true. Literally, I've tested and tried Him, and nothing has ever been more true: Jesus is more than enough for me.

Can't get any more beautiful than that.

A burning fire in the bones

To what extent do you want to talk to others about your faith? How often do you and I pray for opportunities to share God's love with others? If you were to measure your desire by the size of a flame, would you fall closer to a birthday candle, or a camp fire? Do you know anyone who has a forest fire of desire to share with others about Jesus? I do. I'm not one of them, but I can say my flame is being fanned.

I've been reading through the book of Jeremiah. Just for some background, he actually authored the book of Jeremiah, which is considered one of the major prophet books of the Bible. At a critical time in Israel's history, Jeremiah was God's prophet, or mouthpiece, bringing God's messages to His people. The people did not want to hear, however, because a lot of it was really bad news. God was about to allow foreign nations to bring His people into captivity as a consequence for straying so far from His ways for so long.

I'm about 20 chapters into it. So far, Jeremiah has been faithful to bring this bad news to God's people, and the people are basically pressing their hands to their ears. He is hated by everyone, and much of the text records his intense grief over the continual rejection.

Today, I read of a message he faithfully delivered in the court of the Temple, right in the middle of God's house. It was more bad news. The priest, named Pashur, was enraged, as he had been falsely prophesying to the people along a more pleasant tack. He had Jeremiah beaten, and then thrown in the stocks at the entrance to the temple. Verses 7-18 of chapter 20 record another lament, poignantly detailing the emotions of Jeremiah's soul at this point. (Even though he was God's chosen servant, he was also human, let's not forget.)

I'm paraphrasing, but he actually says that the man who delivered him at birth should be cursed for not killing him as an infant. He continues, "Why did I come out from the womb to see toil and sorrow, and spend my days in shame?" (v.18) His discouragement runs so deep that he even entertains resigning as prophet. But listen to what he says:

"I have become a laughingstock all the day; everyone mocks me. For whenever I speak, I cry out, I shout, "Violence and destruction!" For the word of the Lord has become for me a reproach and derision all day long. If I say, "I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name," there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones, and I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot." (Jer. 20:7-9)

His words sting a little, for me. I kind of want him to give up; I want that to make sense because then I'm let off a related hook. In the New Testament, Jesus calls us to bring a message to His people as well, but it is instead really good news. He knew that His children were captives already, of sin and brokenness. His followers were given the message of restoration and hope to deliver. In fact, the word "gospel" means good news, and we are commanded to bring this message of love and rescue to the world.

I have to let Jeremiah's words get personal for me. I have the best message in history to deliver, and yet do I feel driven to bring it to the forefront of my relationships by a burning in my heart that I literally cannot contain? I wish it were more so. I want that burning fire in my bones, in my core. I want to feel weary when I hold it in, and neglect to give space to the power of the gospel.

Jeremiah's level of persecution is reality for many followers of Christ in other countries. For me, it is so easy, socially and politically speaking, to discuss spiritual matters. Am I capitalizing on that fact? Am I making the most of my days bringing a message of freedom to those in captivity? When the desire isn't there, we need to pray that God would bring it. Let's pray for an uncontainable, burning fire in our bones to share the message entrusted to us: the good news of a great, great love.

Finding family

A handful of years ago, my great aunt Isabel and her daughter Jane began to do some research. They knew we were of Italian descent (Isabel's parents had immigrated to the U.S. in the early 1900's), but knew nothing of our ancestors. With some help from the internet, they found a name. This person shared our last name, and had an address in Southern Italy.

With nothing more than a slip of paper bearing this name, they went.

Isabel, nearing her 80's, and Jane found their way to the region of Calabria (red section above) and the small town of Cortale (a speck within the yellow dot above). It has a population of 2,400 and is too small to have a hotel. No one could speak English. Here is a photo of Cortale I found online.


Isabel resorted to pointing to the slip of paper and motioning her hands. Someone went to fetch a woman who could understand, and to everyone's shock, this woman KNEW the person whose name was on the slip. However, no one knew, yet, she would quickly lead them to the home of Isabel's first cousin. At the moment of arrival, Isabel met the daughter of her father's brother. Her name was Isabelle, and she was about the same age.

Fast forward a couple of years to my parents' first visit. Isabelle had a son in Milan about my dad's age with a wife and daughter, Erica. My parents contacted them and then one summer, showed up at their door. Isabelle took a small plane up from Cortale just for the meeting. When my dad entered their home, Isabelle burst into tears, pinching the flesh of his cheeks with both hands. Erica was an excellent translator (she is fluent in six languages!), and soon her father made his way to a hutch, slid open a drawer, and removed a stack of old photos. Black and whites of my dad as a boy and his parents were among them. Throughout the years, unbeknownst to anyone in the U.S., my dad's grandpa Joseph had been sending photos of family living in California to his brother in Cortale. Those photos were passed from the brother, to his daughter Isabelle, and then to her son who has them today.

Inside that home in Milan, an integral piece of the puzzle of my heritage was snuggly put into place. In August, my husband and I had the pleasure of visiting these newly found family members for our first time. We shared one beautiful but short day together. And so I was thrilled to discover one month later that Erica had made last minute arrangements to visit the U.S. Her trip even included a stay in California with us for one week!

This visit ended yesterday. And after spending several days together, I am so absolutely blessed to not only know her, but also to be her family. She is so passionate and expressive, wears her heart on her sleeve (another English saying, Erica!) which is so familiar to me, and simply sees so much beauty in life. From food to music to children to nature, she is constantly distilling out and sharing the beauty she sees with those around her. In this way, she is a very inspiring person, and points others toward a deeper appreciation of life in its many intricacies.

One way Erica inspires and points to beauty is through photography. It was great fun to watch her find beauty in my everyday space through her lens. I can't wait to receive the CD she is burning for me of her shots during her visit. I will surely share some of them here.

But for now, you'll have to be content with this one: Erica and I at Los Alamitos Race Course.


Nine of us in my family took her out to a very fun night at the horse races. We laughed at her repeated bad luck, losing her $2 or $3 bets race after race. And finally, as we were about to leave, her horse finally won! I believe she won all of $35, probably breaking even for the night. Here she is with her winning tickets.


I thought meeting our family members living in Italy would be more or less like meeting strangers with whom we happened to share a common point in history, that history being quite far removed from my life. But I experienced something unexpected; it seemed a connection between us had existed all along and we were simply tapping into it now. Love was already there, waiting for us to unlock the door that had been shut on our family line three generations ago. It was so easy to walk into a new and spacious field of love for each other.

This is all important to me because family and heritage is extremely important to God. He has reasons for putting us in our particular family and none other. And He accomplishes His good and wise purposes from one generation to the next. If we invite God into our family line, He can do what no one else can, in terms of bringing healing, reconciliation, and the breaking of destructive patterns that get passed down. He is at work in my family, and I am privileged to observe it. From my grandparents' lives all the way down to my children's, He is visibly at work. Beautiful, wonderful work. And, I truly believe the Lord is so delighted to see a family tree bearing much fruit. I'm so thankful that the severed branch on ours has been restored with so much promise for the future.

Snapshots

Life has been a little crazy here lately. I haven't had time to write as much as I want, but I wanted to give you a little sampler of what's been happening and on my mind.

1. Swimming is on my mind. My daughter is a swimmer. It's her deal. We spend a lot of time at her swim team workouts, and last weekend, she had a two-day meet. The summary of a swim meet is that I'm the nervous one, sweating, and trekking around the pool with a clipboard to find out when and where exactly she needs to be lined up for each event. And she is the cool one in more ways than one; she is collected, and gets to be in the water multiple times. Oh, and did I mention that it was triple digits last weekend? Yeah, so I was envious about being in the pool. She rocked it though. It was a great meet for her, and good family fun.

2. Exercise is on my mind. Remember my new BFF named Self-Discipline? Well, she and I and my friend Shauna joined a gym. I haven't exercised in five years, and I haven't had a gym membership in probably 10. I'm still getting used to it, but it's starting to be a little bit fun. (However, I desperately need to find some new and motivating music for my little green iPod Shuffle. My Ray LaMontagne doesn't really make me want to pick up the pace. He helps me want to go back to bed. Help please.)

3. Italy is on my mind. A couple of years ago, with the help of the internet, a relative found our long lost Italian relatives. My grandpa, Frank, was first generation Italian-American in our family, his father and mother, Joseph & Mamie, having immigrated to the US in the early 1900's. Joseph's brother never got a chance to follow his brother as planned, due to the onset of World War I, and all his descendants are living in different parts of Italy today. Turns out my dad has a close cousin about his age, with a daughter about my age; they live in Milan, and I was fortunate enough to meet them for the first time this summer while on our fancy vacation. They are amazing people and I already love them so much. I can't wait to write more soon about my new favorite intercontinental cousin, Erica, and our great times together this past week when she visited California for the first time. (Erica, I don't know if you know this saying in English, but the truth is that in so many ways, we are "cut from the same cloth".) She and I have lived very different lives in very different places, and yet we speak the same language; not the language of the tongue, but the language of the heart. She is so awesome, AND she is a photographer, so I'll get to share some of her beautiful shots from her stay too.

So with those snapshots in words, here are some visuals to match. (The vacation shots are from the first part of August. Sorry people, I have no visual to go with the exercise part. Gross.)

Here is my little fish.






Here we are with our newly acquainted family members, having lunch at an unbelievably beautiful place; we are at the hotel Villa d'Este on Lake Como. Seriously unreal.

This is the real Bellagio. Not the Las Vegas version. I didn't even know it was a city on Lake Como. We are travelling there by ferry.

So that's what is happening over here.

(I'm sorry the photos don't seem very clear. I'm not sure how to make them bigger without distorting them. I need to ask someone about this.)

More on my time with Erica later. And I have to tell you about so many other things!! My new Bible Study, my upcoming boutique dates where Tidbit will be alive and well (that's a little children's clothing-and-now-home-decor-line that I co-operate, in case you didn't know), and...you won't believe this...even another blog. Because I have so much to say about everything! Now if I could only find more time to say it all...

Ciao.

Nothin' like a redhead in a meltdown

What a day.

The best part of it was going to the gym with a friend. And when the best part of your day is going to the GYM, it isn't a good one.

I don't have any major reasons to be falling apart (or at least things I think are major, like caring for a child with a disability, or getting a terrible diagnosis). My dramas are small in comparison. But today they felt insurmountable. I had at least two hiding-in-the-bathroom crying episodes, and several moments where I just pushed down the inclination to do some more of that. Why is this blog-worthy? Well, because if you happened to have had the same kind of day, I want you to know you weren't alone.

Something about these kinds of extra challenging days causes all my emotions to funnel themselves into a single feeling: overwhelmed. I don't know about you, but when I feel overwhelmed, my world feels really lonely. There I am, sitting in my circumstances, feeling totally ill-equipped for my life. I am not enough. And at the same time, I am too much. (I know in my mind these thoughts aren't what's true about me. But on rough days, I cannot escape their assault.)

Try as I might, the truth that I wasn't alone had a hard time getting through to me today. All the chaos and negativity was shouting so much more loudly. I'm mad that September has brought me this massive new job of homework-management. It's all on my shoulders, and it takes up a ridiculous amount of my time with my child. Doing homework also brings a dynamic to our relationship that I hate. I'm mad that she struggles to stay focused, which makes it take way longer than it should. I'm mad that her fickle self-confidence doesn't help the situation. I'm disgusted and mad that I'm probably some of the cause of her fickle self-confidence. I'm mad that she may not know how beautiful and smart and amazing she is. And of course, I'm mad that I'm mad about all this and not just gracefully, patiently, and cheerfully helping her muddle through for the entire afternoon.

All of the above was the straw. One big straw, that broke me. All this negativity piled onto a bunch of pre-existing junk, unfinished chores that were supposed to be finished, piles and projects neglected, one messy relationship flaring up, and extra commitments this week (two of which we completely ditched tonight due to aforementioned chaos). So of course. Crying in the bathroom was the natural end.

I didn't have a massive revelation. I didn't feel particularly out of tune with God today. I kept talking to Him. I know He was talking to me. But I still struggled. And then shouted a little. And then layed on my bed for one hour, depressed. And then got so incredibly frustrated that I wanted to scream at someone, or run away from home, or both.

One main reason I'm sharing all this insanity is so you know I'm just a regular person. Some days my feet feel so planted and secure. Others, it takes a lot of effort to distinguish between real truth and the distortion of it. Struggler. Lonely. And thankfully, a work in progress. God is not finished with me yet, and probably when I stop freaking out, He'll get a word in. As for my story that God is authoring, I hope He rips out the page from today.

But I bet He won't. He has a way of rewriting the awful parts of our stories. Instead of erasing them, he redeems them.

The next time I have a meltdown like this, please remind me. I'm just hungry for some redemption.

Teachable Moment: Homework & Joy

Homework is in the air, and the air at my house is starting to stink.

My third grader posed a great deal of drama last night over hers. I witnessed one crying scene on the carpet, where every form of complaint about doing the work was voiced. Then a second crying bout ensued in her bedroom, where all words and sounds were muffled as her face was in a pillow. This was when my daughter lamented, "I feel like I'll never get to play again! (cry, sob, sniffle, sob, sob.)"

Somehow, and thankfully, the Holy Spirit was loud enough for me to tune in to Him, and I pushed down the inclination to amplify my case in favor of homework completion. I saw her with compassion. I put myself in her shoes. And I quietly sat down to talk.

I've been trying to be intentional lately about bringing more spiritual and Biblical truths into my parenting and saw this as a perfect opportunity to do so. I didn't plan it, and I didn't know where I was going to go with my little talk, but as always, I just started in, and God gave me the perfect words. (Love that about Him!)

We talked about jobs. God has given every person a job in this world. We talked about my jobs, daddy's jobs, and her jobs, which include being a student. I shared with her what I truly believe (though not always what I practice): God desires for us to not only accept the jobs He's given us, but also to work at them with joy. I'm not talking about feeling happy about them. Happiness is purely circumstantial; it works from the outside in. Joy is the opposite. It originates in the heart, and then works its beauty out into our circumstances. Joy radiates despite circumstances, and I like to think of it as having an attitude of peaceful satisfaction, no matter what. The satisfaction part comes from one thing alone, that we are right where God wants us to be, regardless of how comfortable that position is.

The more I thought about this today, the more I realized that outside of God and the Bible, true joy doesn't really exist as a concept. I think to most of the world, "joy" is like the Christmas version of "happiness". They are synonymous. And there exists no notion that one should have feelings of gladness or contentment when terrible things are taking place. To the rest of the world, emotions should directly line up with circumstances. If your circumstances stink, then you have every right to complain and pout about it until they change. I get it; to a non-believer, WHY NOT? Complaining makes me feel better. Fair enough.

But I am not a non-believer. I believe God is in charge of all things and has specific, good purposes for my life. And if THAT is true about me, then I need to know joy, and introduce joy to my children, because not all the jobs He has for me are fun. My kids will not have perfect, trouble-free lives either, and I want them to understand how important having a joyful attitude is with respect to hard work and perseverance.

My daughter was hung up on one problem: that her brother didn't have to work as hard as she did (because he is younger). Comparison. We ALL do it, wishing we were assigned the jobs or relationships or incomes or situations to which those around us have been assigned. Ours ALWAYS seem harder, in comparison. I totally get that. And so I could tell her how much I can relate. I also imagined with her what life would be like if I were always wishing I had someone else's job in life. How would that make God feel since He's given me some very special jobs? I was on my way to doing dishes and starting dinner. Neither are my favorite things - I told her I'd rather be doing other fun things - but I was going to go do them with joy, thankful that God has a purpose for me, and has given me a family to serve (again, not always the case with my own attitude!).

I told her that she was created for very special and specific jobs that were made for no one else. And even though some of them are tough, some of them are also fun. The point was that she could do her homework with joy, not because she liked to do it, but because she was doing the job God assigned her, and He always has good reasons for His assignments.

Last night, she seemed to take all this information in, quietly listening and nodding. Tonight, she did all her work with joy. Not a single complaint or tear. I got to praise her for that. (And then make sure I didn't gripe about the dishes.)

Here are a couple verses I try to repeat to my kids, training them in the area of attitude. But they need these truths delivered with a lot of grace, because I know how hard these instructions are to follow! At least quoting them helps me hear the words myself, because I certainly need the reminders.

"Do everything without arguing or complaining..." Philippians 2:13
"Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people." Colossians 3:23