Real Live People

I learn a lot of things from being married to Mr. Wood, many of them things about myself that need refined...but that’s a subject for a different blog post. 

One of the things I have learned in the last ten years from him is that there is always a real live person behind a heated situation, a controversy, an issue, or what have you. The nature of Mr. Wood’s job is such that, every single day, he comes into contact with folks who have made bad choices, some of them heinous. When I ask him specifics about those choices, his answer is typically, “oh I don’t know, I could look it up, but I rarely do”. Maybe he’s lazy? Or is he not curious? Is he frightened to know? I don’t think so. I think it’s because he chooses every moment to see people rather than choices or events or crimes. Similarly, I have watched Mr. Wood nurture a nearly 25 year friendship with someone whom he completely disagrees with on a fairly large issue. The love, friendship, humility, and grace between the two of them is incredibly inspiring. 

I want to live like that. I want to be in deep relationship with people who think and behave differently from me, and I want to see them as real live people who are more than their choices or life situations. I want to see every issue and life choice as a chance to know and love and learn from real live people, rather than a chance to stand on a platform and say what I think about it. I want to remain in solid friendship with my people whose lifestyles look different from mine and perhaps even make me feel uncomfortable at first. I want to be curious about what makes them tick, and I want to learn from them. And even if, at the end of the day, we don’t fully align on our beliefs and practices, I still want to have them over for tacos on the regular as we continue to be curious about each other and love each other. 

I’m convinced this is the best way to do it, and, while I’m not completely there, you’ll find me over here on 5th Street trying again and again to find the real live people behind each one of the issues.

He Will Hold Me Fast

It isn't always me holding on to Jesus.  In fact, it's usually him holding on to me.  This love he pursues me with is steadfast and sure.

Anything in me that is good is because of this love.  Certainly, I have lived through seasons of peace and joy, and, man, am I grateful for those.  I have also lived through hard seasons, filled with doubt and sadness and all of the things. I can't help being grateful for those also.  It is in those times I learn more about his strong, bold love that pursues me and holds on to me.

He held me fast...when friendships were hard and sometimes hurtful...

He held me fast...when I was so homesick I couldn't see straight...

He held me fast..when my dad died unexpectedly at the age of 49...

He held me fast...when I didn't know how to lead a group of people and felt utterly ill-equipped...

He held me fast...when we miscarried...

He held me fast...when postpartum depression nearly caved me in...

He held me fast...when the days felt so long with three little boys in my care...

He held me fast...when marriage has felt too difficult...

He held me fast...when life felt confusing and hurtful and out of sorts...

...and the list goes on...

I don't know what or where I would be if it were not for Jesus and his love.  He will, indeed, hold me fast.

Dear Twenty-Year-Old Jen,

Oh sweet girl, I know you’re having so much fun, falling in love whether you’re admitting it right now or not. I just want you to know that your life becomes a bonafide adventure. Here are some things I wish I could tell you....

Be open, be humble, be kind, be confident. There are things you think you know about living...boldly go with them.  At the same time, learn from ALL of the people in your path...take mental notes on ways you wanna live and ways you don't, and then let that shape your behavior.

Trust Mr. Wood with everything you have (you end up marrying him, by the way...).  He is wise, he is good, he will not ever lie to you.  Listen to him when he tells you there is something you don't have the money to do because he knows what he is talking about.  Respect him.  Tell him often that you do.

Oh, and keep wearing those cute little pearl earrings, or one day, when you're in your forties, you'll try to put in earrings and realize your holes have nearly closed up.  Bummer.

You are going to be the mama of boys.  Start watching superhero movies now to get a head start.  Boys are FUN, so fun...you have no idea right now what joy they are going to bring to your home.  Embrace it all...

You will eventually get the new siding and shutters on the old house you buy.  Just be patient.  You probably won't ever refinish the original wood floors, though...just deal with it.

Goodness, the people you will be able to know and love along the way.  There will be so many of them.  For a lot of years, your circle will be naturally formed by the people in the churches you work in...that's normal and fine.  However, somewhere around 2010, you and Mr. Wood will both enter the regular old workforce, and you will both meet so many new people and make so many new friends.  It will be so fun.  Life will become different and wild and more colorful, and you will love it!  Learn from all of these new people...hang with them, love them and be loved by them.

There will be JOY, such joy.  Not every day will be happy, but there will be a deep and abiding joy from the Father that will sustain you.  Lean in to that.  Draw strength from it on the happy days and the not-happy days.

Marriage is work.  Do.the.work.  Start with the work inside of you.  Don't be afraid of it.  Talk to someone if you can't figure it out yourselves.  Don't be scared to ask for help. 

There will be hurt.  People will hurt you deeply.  I'm sorry.  I really am.  I wish there was a "skip" card to play, but there just isn't.  I want you to know that you will live through it and come out on the other side.  It sounds cliche, but VERY beautiful things will be born out of it.  Keep living, keep breathing, keep loving...it's worth it.

PLEASE tell Mr. Wood to keep that track suit.  Your oldest son will be an old soul and he will want it some day.  

When you are 45, you will get a tattoo in Mr. Wood's handwriting, reminding you that you're enough.  It will be born out of your self-discovery when writing a "coming of age" letter to your niece.  When you tell Parida, the tattoo artist, that you are 45 and this is your first tattoo, she will excitedly reply "Hell yeah, bitch!".  Hahahhaha!!

Trust your gut.  It's one of the ways God will nudge you.  You will "just know" when something is right or wrong for your family.  Fully trust that.

Raising kids will be one of the most rewarding things you will ever do and also one of the most exhausting.  Keep at it.  Help them to be great boys, expose them to so many things, explain to them your expectations, be consistent so they can trust your word.  Take them to faraway places so they know the world doesn't revolve around them.  At the same time, teach them to deeply value the space they are in.  Be honest with them.  Apologize.  Show them grace.  Let them know early on that you will pay for their therapy that you will surely be the cause of.  Enjoy every season with them...it gets more and more fun.

Be real.  Be kind always.  Be life-giving.

If you just decide to be happy, you can be...

    

The year was 2013, and Ezra was 8 years old.  Nothing monumental was happening when he blurted out "if you just decide to be happy, you can be".  Wait, stop...can you repeat that, Buddy, so I can write it down?  I'm going to need that later.

I want to be careful to point out that there are life circumstances and mental health crises and emotional difficulties that can and do prevent us from simply DECIDING to be happy.  I would never wish to discount those situations which can sometimes be debilitating, or, at the very least, overwhelming, and those realities are not at all what I am referring to here.

And yet...on most of the days, we really do get to decide.  For me, it goes like this...am I stressed out by the dishes piling up because our kitchen faucet is broken or relieved that a new one is coming in the mail today and I think I know how to replace it?  Is fixing dinner again tonight something that will put me over the edge, or am I grateful for the meat in our freezer and the gadgets in my kitchen?  Are the piles in our dining room from cleaning out my classroom enough to make me paralyzed or am I grateful for a new season of life and ten years of memories in a few wooden boxes?  Are the cups and bowls left on the end tables in the living room making me crazy, or am I just so thankful that our three boys enjoy each other and gathered there to eat last night, laughing and having fun?  Is the brokenness and turmoil in the world robbing my hope and joy, or can I console myself with thoughts of simply loving the circle around me and bringing hope and grace to the folks I am privileged to encounter?  Are health issues for me and my loved ones driving me to fear the worst, or can I take a deep breath and give thanks for modern medicine and the opportunities available for healing and wellness?

There are moments when the pain is too great, the fear too much, to decide to be happy.  But on many, if not most, of the days, I get to decide.  Thank you, eight-year-old Ezra, for teaching me that happy is a choice and it's nearly always available to us all.

On disappointment....

I do not enjoy being disappointed...by people, by situations, by decisions that affect me. Does anyone? Even more than that, though, the thing I absolutely want none of is watching my boys deal with disappointment.

Oh sure, I know all of the right answers...the ones we say to them when they are disappointed...that this will build their character, that there is something better out there for them, that this wasn’t meant to be...but, even as I hear myself repeating these truths to my kids, I really wish I could change reality and give them what they were hoping for.

If I’m being honest, our three boys have not been dealt any major disappointments.  They haven't experienced any great loss, things come fairly easily to them, none of them have had any enemies to speak of.  And yet, there have been moments in each of their lives that have brought tears and even some despair.  

I.want.to.fix.it.  I want Jesus to take the wheel and re-navigate the situation to my boy’s benefit because I.want.it.fixed., thank you very much.

But what if the disappointment is the gift? What if getting the full scholarship would not have taken him to the places that watching God piece together the provision will take him? What if it’s in the dugout or on the bench where he will find the joy, the learning, the opportunity for the most important growth? What if getting a supporting role instead of the lead teaches him that it’s not all about being center stage? What if losing the game actually brings about more opportunities than winning would have? What if getting what he thought he wanted would have brought unnecessary pain or heartache? And then what if occasionally there really isn't any explanation except that life sucks sometimes because we live in a broken world?

This is where I land, time and again.  These boys were never really mine to control like pinballs in an arcade game.  They belong to the Father, and he sees their lives in ways I am incapable of seeing in. I trust him.  I have to, as I know no other way.

It will, indeed, all be ok...

Old Friends...

Music makes me think, it paints a picture in my head that sticks around for awhile.  Sometimes this sticking inspires me to change my behavior or thinking; other times it makes me remember earlier times with vivid clarity.

This song makes me remember, and the remembering causes me to be grateful.  The friends I have made in the last 30 years have brought joy and growth to my life in ways I can't even put into words and sentences.  And yet, there is something about those friends from childhood that cannot be replicated or recreated.

I could make my way around John and Judy's house on Holly Lane with a blindfold on.  I can still see in my mind the Tupperware pitcher of tea in the refrigerator.  If I concentrate really hard, I can hear the bug zapper on the back deck.  I could dial their landline phone number right now, from memory.  Down the stairs and on the left is the closet where the rock salt was kept.  Jill and I would sometimes eat a piece (that's so weird, why did we do that??).   No one else can reminisce with me about going to Lincoln Trail park on a Saturday and playing on the equipment while our parents cooked breakfast on a fire and drank coffee.  Her aunts and uncles and grandparents became mine.  [Side note:  now I live in her grandma's house, and the preciousness of this is not lost on me]

No one besides Nicole knows about the time our parents created chocolate syrup out of Nesquik and milk because the Hersheys syrup was all gone.  Only Mike and Lesli will laugh when we recall me telling Mike "you should feel the back of my teeth with your tongue" (don't ask!).  It was Nicole's living room at Golf Lakes where I watched Dirty Dancing for the first time and dreamed of one day having my own Patrick Swayze (oh yeah, Mr. Wood fits the bill!!).

Every Sunday afternoon, it was either on 7th Street or Michigan Avenue where Gretchen and I wrote a new original musical to perform for whatever parents we could sucker into watching.  The back bedroom of their giant two-story house was the location for the store Gretchen's older sister would create for us to come shopping in.  Only Gretchen could tell you what we ordered every Sunday night after church at the L&K.  I can still see in my mind Jack's mug in the downstairs bathroom that said "I hate it when it snows on my french toast".

These friends are not a part of my every day life these days, but I know they would be right here if I needed them, as would their parents.  There is something so very special about the folks who have known us and our people from way back.

"No one knows you like they know you and no one probably ever will...you can't make old friends...."

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.

Things that are Important

At our house, we put important things on the insides of cabinets with washi tape...do you do that?  On this particular cabinet, you will find Mr. Wood's recipe for Long Island Iced Tea (very important) and this recipe for Hot Cocoa Mix (also very important) that we start making in October and keep making all fall and winter.  We keep it in a canister with a scoop and folks can make themselves a cup of hot cocoa any time they please.  It's maybe a 1/4 or 1/3 cup scoop and that goes with a regular-sized mug of very hot water, or you can adjust your amount to taste.  We also keep a container of those little tiny pellet-like marshmallows nearby because they make me happy.

Cheerleading

I'm not speaking about the skirt wearing, cheer yelling, ponytail sporting (it makes me smile to think of how the style of the ponytail changes from era to era) girls whom I love, although I would be happy to write a cheery little blog about them.  I'm speaking of being a cheerleader for the folks in our lives.

I want to cheerlead, every time and every place.  I want people to know I'm on their side, cheering for them.  I want them to count on me to be singing their praises, both when they are down and out and when they have victories.

When my people "get it right" in their families, I want them to hear me say "I knew you would".  When shit hits the fan in their families, I want to be the one saying, "Keep pressing on.  You'll see the fruit someday.  Let's go get coffee."

When one of my posse hates her job, I want her to hear me say "I'm praying for wisdom.  I know you can see this through, but if you feel you should leave, I'm cheering for your new job".  When my girl is slaying her job, I want to send her a starbucks card to celebrate!!!

When folks are loving on people and worshipping the Father and living in community, whether in the place I'm at or somewhere else, I want to SEE those great things happening and say "I LOVE what you're doing."  When life is hard and community is messy, I want to be there, cheering "keep pressing on.  You're doing a good work.  God has you right where he wants you."

Mr. Wood and I were talking about this very thing the other night, as there have been occasions for us when folks in our lives did the opposite, telling us "that's enough of that little stuff you're doing....now come do what we think you should do" or "why would you do that, it's headed nowhere".  Frankly, even if I AM headed nowhere, I want my people to cheer me on as I go. Hahahahah.

Cheerleading...it's so important.   The opposite of cheerleading...it's so hurtful.  I want to always and forever be one of the ones cheering.

On Letting Go...

The big boy leaves for Europe tomorrow...without us.  It's a strange feeling, this letting go.  I remember the first time I felt it.  He was 3 years old, and Bill's Bus came to our Plum Street house to pick him up for preschool.  I wrote in his baby book (yeah..he's the only one of our kids who has one of these) that day that I was worried he would get drunk and high and have sex all on the preschool bus on Day 1.  Of course, that worry was unfounded, but it was my first taste of letting go.  Up until that point, I was the major influence and authority figure in his day, and that was about to change.

And here we are, 13 years later, and he's flying across the world for nine days.  He will have such a great time.  It will be yet another reminder to him that this world is SO much bigger than our little part of it.  I WANT him to go.  I'm so excited for him.  And yet... this mama heart and stomach is feeling a little bit of angst, if I'm honest.  What if something happens?  What if we aren't there to help him?  What if...  Honestly, those what ifs are not unfounded.  Things happen.  Most likely, everything will run like clockwork, and, a couple of weeks from now, we will be looking at his pictures and hearing his stories.  Realistically, the what ifs may come true, though.  Something might happen.  He might need our help and not have it.  The really amazing thing about the hope we have in the Father is that we will all be alright either way.  Our hope is not in everything going ok or in our ability, as parents, to be there when he needs us.  Our hope is in the fact that someone loves this boy WAY more than we do, and HE is able and present, both when I am present and when I am not.

And so, we send him off.  We buy the outlet adapter and we pack the extra memory cards for the camera and we tell him that we can't wait to see his pictures and hear his stories.  We do this because we know no other way to love, to allow growth, to parent...

I'm reminded of this blog post I wrote in July 2006 when the roles were reversed.  It is no less true today:

We’re en route to Haiti as I write. We left Marshall at 10:30 this morning. My heart was heavy, yet hopeful, as I left two of God’s most precious gifts in Marshall. The heaviness came from knowing I will miss them—their smiles, hugs, kisses, orneriness—and they will miss me—my hugs, kisses, my lap, my touch in the middle of the night. The hopefulness came from knowing they will become more like Jesus and I will, too. This is so much more than a mission trip to Haiti for me. It is a statement TO the self in me that is still left MADE BY the Jesus in me that I hope is growing daily. The Jesus in me is saying that I choose to live fearlessly. Nothing is worth more to me than bringing glory to my Father. My comfort, my peace, my safety, and my agenda have no value to me. They have been crucified. Even the comfort and safety of my boys is not more important than walking daily right beside my Savior. I have felt uneasy about going to Haiti from the very first mention of it, and yet, I feel no uneasiness at all because I know my Father and I trust Him. Who else loves me like He does? Who else knows me like He does? Who else loves my boys like He does? I rest in the shelter of His wings. I lay my boys in the shelter of His wings. There is no safer place.

On Education, Getting Off Track and the Next Right Thing...

We've had one of those "headline" weeks here in our neck of the woods...you know, the weeks where I'm checking the news sites every half hour to see what has developed and Mr. Wood has no idea what is happening until I fill him in at dinner.  Those weeks are kind of thrilling for me, in a sense, which makes me wonder what kind of person I am...that someone else's heartache becomes excitement for me.  Well, that's a blog post for another time, I suppose.

So, anyways, the headlines here involve school employees (not in our town, but close by) allegedly doing illegal things with their connections as school employees.  A school official was quoted in an interview saying something to the effect of..it's about the kids, we just hope they are learning (my paraphrase).  This part of this particular interview is what struck me, and it sent me on a thought path that really has nothing to do with the week's headlines, but here it is...how does a person forget that school is about kids learning and growing?  I'm certainly not above forgetting this, and I could list times when I've forgotten my purpose and calling due to a misguided line of thought on my part...that I need to prove myself, be the best, rise to the top, get my way, or what have you.  So, I'm not coming at this from a position of perfection, but rather from a position of asking the question, "what can I put in place in myself to protect me from going there, from forgetting that school is about kids learning and growing and becoming?"

Because, this:

*I don't want to ever think that my career is more important than the kids in my posse learning and growing in the best possible way for each of them.

*I don't want to ever think that treating children with disrespect and unkindness for the purpose of making me feel "in charge" and powerful is ok.

*I don't want to ever think that I can cheat the system to make me or my kids (my own or in my classroom) look good to others and not in some way damage myself and the kids in my care.

*I don't want to ever think that appearing to have it all together while lying to myself and others about who I am is more important than being real and honest and full to the brim of integrity.

*I don't want to ever think that there is only one path (that looks mysteriously like my own path) for kids to be successful.

*I don't want to ever think that I can be the kind of person I wouldn't want my own kids becoming.

*I don't want to ever think that being an educator means I can do whatever I want and not deeply care for and invest in the lives entrusted to me.

So, how do we keep from getting off track?  Just like in every area of my life, I think the best chance I have is choosing to do the next right thing every single moment.  If my littles aren't seeing an example of giving, kindness, integrity, honesty, love, and excellence in me, then I need to stop and re-evaluate.  Education...educating...modeling how to live in the best way...if that's not what I'm doing, then I really should go be a barista at Starbucks (which, might I add, IS on my bucket list).

love, kindness, grace...

...three things sorely lacking in so many facebook posts or discussions regarding political leaders or aspiring political leaders.

For those of us who claim to know Jesus as our Savior and Lord, these things must be present in our posts and discussions.  Who would want to be part of a family of believers who speak so cruelly and hatefully about people simply because they disagree with them?  I'm not sure if I want to be in relationship with folks who speak this way about other humans.  In fact, when you speak this way, I start to think I might prefer hanging out with the very folks you are speaking of over you.

President Obama is someone's husband, father, best friend, golfing buddy, college roommate...just like you and I are.  Simply because you disagree with his politics, should you classify him as evil or vile or wicked or stupid or an idiot (all things I have heard in discussion or on posts from Christ-followers in reference to Obama and other politicians just in the last week)?  Have you ever disagreed with your college roommate or your uncle or aunt about something?  Did you then go on to describe him or her as evil?  I hope not!  We can disagree without being hateful or rude or unkind.  You are better than this.  Christ calls...yes, compels...us to be better than this.

Do you disagree with policies, attitudes, beliefs, and decisions?  Press on in your disagreement.  Have intelligent, productive discussions about it.  Post insightful thoughts that help others see truth.  But, for the sake of all that is good and holy, stop being mean.

And one more thing, just because I follow Christ, don't assume that I hate President Obama and that I'm a staunch Republican...ask me what I think instead.  And then, when we find out that we disagree on some things, we can both treat each other with love, kindness, and grace.

Some stuff I like...

The Wood family is saving for a common goal.  All five of us are making sacrifices.  I think it's ironic that I can always find things I would love to have when I am in a season of not spending, but when I have a wad of birthday money in my purse, I can't really find anything I'd like to buy.  So, I'm creating this blog of "some stuff I like" so that, the next time I have a wad of cash, I can consult this list.

Who doesn't love Converse?  And rainbow pixel Converse?  Woah!!



I have wanted these stacking rings for SO long.  I can't decide if I would get one for each of the boys' names or something to do with my hot and sexy husband that I would wear alongside my wedding ring...either way, I would love to have one or three of these.




Strawberry Lemon Ice makes me think of spring break and summer.  I always stock up on Yankee Candles at Christmas time, but I typically buy wintery smells.  I think I could really benefit from this fragrance in our home!!



These pencils are SO cool!  They are bendy (bendable?  How do you say that??), they have amazing erasers, AND they are rainbow colors!!!  A few of my students brought these at the beginning of the year, but they have long since been used up because everyone knows how straight-up cool they are!





I am fairly certain I have never paid this much for a pair of shoes or any item of clothing, BUT if someone wanted to give me these, I would not refuse.  Have you jumped on the Bootie bandwagon yet?  I haven't, but these are calling out to me.




I would like to have a girlie suitcase that my boys will not want to use.



We grill outside on the gas grill all year long, even in the snow, BUT sometimes The Pioneer Woman does super cool things on her stovetop grill pan, and I want to be like her!!




I would like to have about ten of these.  A life rule for me is that a woman can never have too many wire baskets.  I would put pillows, afghans, papers, balls of yarn, or maybe even Simon in them.



I LOVE 5s and Ws.  I will take them anytime I can get them!  These are some great vintage letters and numbers.

                       


What things would go on your list?  What stuff do you like?

...on being a Mama

I always knew I would be a Mama someday.  I had a million baby dolls, and I cared for them like it was my job.  My cabbage patch kid was better cared for than our own flesh and blood babies, I think.  Even so, when the pregnancy test turned out positive in our little bathroom on Miami Street in Park Forest, I cried.  I'm slightly embarrassed to admit they were not tears of joy, but tears of sadness and fear.  My first words to Tim were, "Now we can NEVER go to the movies!".  I eventually transitioned to excitement over the next few months, but, if I'm honest, I was dreading the loss of freedom just a little bit.

Well, of course, we have managed to go to the movies plenty of times over the last fifteen years, and, of course, I wouldn't trade these boys for anything in the wide whole world.  They are fun, exhausting, hilarious, stinky, loud, adventurous, creative, maddening, and so much more.  Their presence in my life makes me a better person, a better woman, a better follower of Jesus.

As I reflect, though, on those initial thoughts in that tiny, palm-tree-tiled bathroom on Miami Street, I am reminded that many of the freedoms we enjoyed as young marrieds DID disappear with the birth of Isaac, and then even more-so when Ezra and Simon came along.  Losing some freedom isn't all bad though.  These children have pulled me out of myself.  It is difficult to focus only on what I want when a crying baby is hungry.  Sitting and reading a book for three hours is nearly impossible when siblings need help with negotiations..  I can't only think of my agenda when there are three basketball games to get to in a weekend.  My new shoes often get put on hold when the middle guy has outgrown his shoes AGAIN.  They pull me out of myself, these boys.  Their very existence reminds me that it is truly NOT all about me.  For me, this is yet another reminder that the gifts in our lives, whatever they may be, come from the Father and are carefully orchestrated to make us more like him.

I remain grateful for these three gifts.  Thank you, boys, for the daily reminder that it is not all about me.  I love you.  Love, Mama

The baby comes no matter what I do...

As we were leaving for the hospital in January 2001, I remember telling Tim with genuine fear, "But I don't know HOW to have a baby".  His reply was, "Jenn, people who aren't as smart as you have babies all the time.  You'll be fine".  I giggled, and we got in the car and left.

Lo and behold, that baby came out, and it really had nothing to do with my skill or knowledge or preparation.  Isaac was coming out no matter what I did, really.

As Christmas day approaches this year, I find many things left undone.  Our Advent wreath only has one candle lit (which means we totally skipped two weeks of Advent).  We had great plans for it, but life happened and now we will light the rest tonight as we celebrate that baby.  I always make homemade cinnamon rolls, but I just bought canned biscuits to make Monkey Bread instead.  We never took a picture for Christmas cards, and somehow I just never sent any out.  I love Advent wreaths and homemade cinnamon rolls and Christmas cards, and most years, those things bring me great joy.  This year, however, they just aren't going to happen.

That baby still was born, though.  It had nothing to do with my skill or anything I had or had not done, really.  He came whether I was ready for him or not.  He was born right into the midst of my half-done Advent wreath and canned biscuit Monkey bread.  He was born to redeem me and save me, and he welcomes the real me.

I love him, this baby Jesus who was born and lived so well and then died to pay for my redemption.

For the Love...

“It is no wonder humanity has long preferred legalism, which involves much cleaner territory. Give me a rule any day. Give me a clear “in” and “out” because boundaries make me feel safe. If I can clearly mark the borders, then I am assured of my insider status—the position I feel compelled to defend, the one thing I can be sure of. I want to stand before God having gotten it right.”
― Jen Hatmaker, For the Love

This book is still messing with me.  I keep going back in and re-reading the parts I've marked up.  This one...yes, Jen Hatmaker, you are right...the legalism, it can make us feel safe can't it?  I mean, if I've followed all of the rules I've decided are important, then who can argue that I'm not in the clear?

The only problem is that legalism is not something Jesus loves.  I cannot find a picture of Jesus anywhere in his Word that paints him as a legalistic rule follower.  I can't find a list of rules where it says, "don't cuss, drink, or smoke and you are on God's good list".  I can't find it anywhere.

I DO find a Savior who loves, rescues, redeems, invites, welcomes, pursues, and disciples.  I find a man/God who embraces humanness.  I think that if he lived here in my town, he would be hanging out with people who don't have it all together and are honest about that...people like me who struggle with real stuff and don't mind talking about it...for me, it's stuff like pride and anger and gluttony and laziness and gossip.  For the other people Jesus might be hanging out with, it might be things like deceit and addiction and lust and who knows what else.

I think Jesus would welcome our talk about the ways we struggle, maybe even our thoughts about whether or not the struggle is worth it...  I think he would welcome our honest discussion about the shitty parts of trying to live in this world but not of it.  I believe with everything in me that he welcomes our honesty, our authenticity, our real-ness.

This is the God I love and serve.  I will go to the gates of hell for him if he asks me to because he has rescued me and I belong to him.  There is no list of rules...there is only love and belonging which then, amazingly, transform me into his likeness.

Advent...Gettin' Ready for Jesus

A couple of days ago, the cousins and Auntie and Uncle Dave came to visit overnight.  We don't do a thorough house cleaning or anything..we love 'em too much to try to impress 'em...but there ARE some things we do to get ready for their arrival.  We make sure the nerf darts are stocked.  We make sure we have just the right beverages and snacks.  We have board games and card games in mind just in case we decide to go that direction.  We know EXACTLY the things we want to talk to them about, to catch up on all of our journeys.  We prepare our house; we prepare our hearts.

The same is true for Jesus...we celebrate his birth on Christmas Day, but we can spend the month of December preparing our home, preparing our hearts.  I wrote up a simple explanation for our small group Bible study peeps of what our family does...not because we are experts, but just because we've tried some stuff.  Sharing it here in case anyone else would like some ideas...

Follow this link to view Wood Family Advent ideas.

Love Does Stuff

Sometimes, Mr. Wood says really smart things.  I like that.  He's hot when he's smart.  We go on a lunch date every Tuesday.  It might be the only time all week that we actually say full sentences to each other without interruption.  I look forward to Tuesdays because of our lunch date (well, and because my class has Art at 2:00 until the end of the day...bless you, Mr. Green).

Today, in between bites of pepperoni pizza, Mr. Wood said something that jolted me.  We were talking about when something wrong or unjust or just not ok is happening and someone has the authority or position to really do something about it and they just don't, for whatever reason.  (Incidentally, we were not talking about when someone does NOT have authority or position to do something about it and just chooses to be loud or obnoxious about something they really have no business being loud or obnoxious about.)  Anyway, back to it...Mr. Wood said "I don't think they really love the person they say they care about if they don't take any action".

It stopped me in my tracks.  Who in my life do I say I care about or love, but when the rubber hits the road, I'm not willing to go the extra mile or do the uncomfortable or weird thing it takes to protect, stand up for, and really LOVE them?  Love with words is easy; love with actions is often more difficult.  When something "not ok" is happening to someone I claim to love and I am in a position of authority or leadership in which I am allowed to do something about it, love demands that I do the thing, even when it's hard.

“Love and say it with your life.” ― Augustine of Hippo