Keep doing the thing...

Have you ever grown tired of doing the thing you perceive to be the right thing? I sure have. Over my forty four years, I can recall moments and even seasons of wondering why I don’t just throw it all to hell and do whatever I want because it would seem to get more positive results in this life.

And yet, something binds my wandering heart to what I have come to believe is the best way to live...loving others over self, respecting authority even when authority isn’t being respectable, holding back thoughts I’d rather put out on billboards or Facebook, being the girl I was put on earth to be even when it doesn’t seem to be getting me ahead here on earth, believing the best of people....

Somewhere along the last 20 years, Mr. Wood and I latched on to Psalm 73 as an anthem for those “throw it all to hell” days.  It seems these thoughts I have aren’t new; rather, they were being wrestled  with by Asaph a really long time ago. So, any time I find myself overcome with envy or a “poor me” attitude, I literally run to this Psalm, and, when I enter the very presence of God, life makes sense again.

1-5 No doubt about it! God is good—
    good to good people, good to the good-hearted.
But I nearly missed it,
    missed seeing his goodness.
I was looking the other way,
    looking up to the people
At the top,
    envying the wicked who have it made,
Who have nothing to worry about,
    not a care in the whole wide world.

6-10 Pretentious with arrogance,
    they wear the latest fashions in violence,
Pampered and overfed,
    decked out in silk bows of silliness.
They jeer, using words to kill;
    they bully their way with words.
They’re full of hot air,
    loudmouths disturbing the peace.
People actually listen to them—can you believe it?
    Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.

11-14 What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?
    Nobody’s tending the store.
The wicked get by with everything;
    they have it made, piling up riches.
I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;
    what has it gotten me?
A long run of bad luck, that’s what—
    a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

15-20 If I’d have given in and talked like this,
    I would have betrayed your dear children.
Still, when I tried to figure it out,
    all I got was a splitting headache . . .
Until I entered the sanctuary of God.
    Then I saw the whole picture:
The slippery road you’ve put them on,
    with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.
In the blink of an eye, disaster!
    A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare!
We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing.
    There’s nothing to them. And there never was.

21-24 When I was beleaguered and bitter,
    totally consumed by envy,
I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox
    in your very presence.
I’m still in your presence,
    but you’ve taken my hand.
You wisely and tenderly lead me,
    and then you bless me.

25-28 You’re all I want in heaven!
    You’re all I want on earth!
When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,
    God is rock-firm and faithful.
Look! Those who left you are falling apart!
    Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again.
But I’m in the very presence of God—
    oh, how refreshing it is!
I’ve made Lord God my home.
    God, I’m telling the world what you do!

On Momming...

The house is dark and quiet, as everyone is in bed except me...well, and Dexter, our dog.  With Mother’s Day arriving at the stroke of midnight, the profile pictures on Facebook are all migrating to mom pictures and it’s churning up my thoughts on being a mom.

I had no idea how to be a mom.  I remember making a little journal to keep track of Isaac’s feedings, pees, and poops, and I messed it all up by day 2 and thought he would likely be dead or dehydrated come morning.  Although I’ve spent so very many days with these boys, I have trouble vividly recalling a single day’s events from those early years.  The older moms said it a million times if they said it once...it will go SO fast...but you can’t really feel the quickness until you sit in the quiet, with the 17, almost 13, and newly 10 year olds all up in their beds.

And so, here I sit, wondering if we have said all of the things and played enough board games and knowing that we haven’t done it all right and we’ve taught them to limp in some ways and praying that the grace that sustains us will also sustain them.

I know very little for sure, but I know a few things.  We haven’t always fed them whole grains and enough fruits and vegetables.  We’ve let them have too much soda and more screen time than is healthy.  We’ve placed too much emphasis on the wrong kind of success at times.  We cuss in front of them and let them watch movies my mama still wouldn’t like....

...and just about the time I start to think that we have completely screwed them up, I think of the grace and love that have come right alongside of all of those things. I hope we’ve shown them how to love and how to extend grace.  And yet...I hope they show more grace and love to their own families than we’ve ever thought about showing.  I hope they spend their very lives discovering the limits of grace and love.  I hope God takes them to places nearby and far far away to make his name great. I hope we’ve shown them that they can do anything and go anywhere but that they can also stay right in the very spot they are in and that God’s name can be made great in both of those places and everywhere in between.

I had absolutely no idea how to be a mom.  Who DOES really know how to be a mom? And yet, here we are, nearly 18 years later, and I’m doing it.  It’s not much different from any of the other relationships we find ourselves in...love fiercely and selflessly and admit when you screw up, and you are well on your way.

So, I’m sorry, Isaac, that I messed up your pee and poop journal, and I’m sorry, Ezra and Simon, that I didn’t even bother to make a pee and poop journal for the two of you.  I hope I’ve managed to make up for it in some way.  I can’t wait to see how God uses you three to love his world, and, in fact, he already is, and it’s a joy to watch!  I’m the absolute luckiest to be your mama.  You make me cuss and laugh every.single.day.  Love, Mom

The Weight...

Perhaps you thought you were clicking on a weight loss themed blog post or maybe an update in my journey to #justshowup.  My apologies if you feel misled.  Rather, this blog post, having brewed and percolated in my mind and heart for months, is a partial chronicle...for you wouldn't want to know the full chronicle...of our family's journey through the world of sports.

More than once in the last 13 years, I've found myself sitting in a lawn chair or in the bleachers getting completely caught up in the sporting event in front of me.  I've had things go through my brain such as "if he doesn't catch that ball, so and so will think less of him, so I DO so hope he catches that ball" or, at other times, "if he doesn't make the goal when they pass it to him, so and so will think less of me as a mom, so he BETTER make that goal".  These thoughts have ranged from mild, during games or matches or races when they were six years old and still looking so adorable, to quite deep, during games when hundreds of folks are watching and feel entitled to give their opinion of MY boy, whether to the people sitting nearby, to the town as a whole, or to my boy himself, when they see him in public.

Without fail, when we return home and begin the debriefing, I remember who I am and who my boy is and what that event was and I realize the absurdity of my thoughts.  If I can just remove myself from the situation enough to clear my head, I will realize every time the fault in my thinking.

For it occurs to me in quiet moments of reflection that maybe we place a weight on these games which they were never intended to carry.  Is it possible that we have elevated the importance of the goal or the catch or the bunt or the fast lap to a level where it was never meant to be?  Am I allowing myself to slip...or jump, at times...into the trap that tells me my child's value and identity are wrapped up in his number of rebounds?

So, where does that leave us?  Shall we quit all of the teams?  Of course not.  Some of the greatest lessons in life are learned on the field, in the pool, on the court, or what have you.  Even greater lessons are learned at our kitchen table or in Mr. Wood's study, as we debrief and talk about what we could have done differently or better.  Conceivably, the greatest lessons are learned in failure and disappointment, in unfair treatment...whether real or perceived...because it is there when we are often the most honest, the most open to the learning.

No, quitting the teams is not the answer.  The answer lies in realizing the lightness of the games.  They are not heavy.  They do not weigh us down.  These boys in our home...they are who they are with the games, and they will be who they are without the games.  They are Isaac...his daddy's right hand man, Ezra...fearless leader, and Simon...passionate and loyal one.  Should all of the games and races and matches disappear tomorrow, they will remain Isaac...his daddy's right hand man, Ezra...fearless leader, and Simon...passionate and loyal one.

Mr. Wood and I have been entrusted with these three.  Most days, I barely get the kitchen sink wiped off and the permission slips signed, but  I do so long to be found faithful in all of the ways, not the least of which being teaching them the lightness of the events and the profound weight of their character.