The Courage to Live This Authentic Life

She leaned over and patted my knee like we were sister-friends affirming and enjoying one another, talking about the things that matter to us as women. Last Friday I met up with Nicole Johnson, author of Fresh Brewed Life, and the Dramatist behind some of the most powerful moments on the Women of Faith tour.  We talked about creativity in the midst of motherhood, we talked about marriage, and we talked about being still.  At one point I told her that I've always wanted to use my acting as a means to display Christ's redemptive work in my life, and again she leaned over and patted my knee, smiling, her eyes narrowing like she was thinking through each of my words as well as her own.

On my drive home that afternoon I was so full of feeling that it just sort of spilled over in the form of tears.  Driving and crying I thought to ask myself, "Why are you crying?"  And a deep-down core part of me whispered back, "I just feel so known."

I hope you have the chance to sit with someone today, or in the days ahead, who listens with their whole self, the way Nicole listened to me.  And I hope this person speaks from their heart and with their wisdom, the way my friend spoke into my life.

 

 "If I can't do social media authentically,

I can't do social media." - Nicole Johnson

We were talking about social media, but I listened with broader ears and a heart wide-open to application.

These past few days I've been asking myself, "Is there anything I am doing unauthentically?  Because if there is, I can't keep doing it."

Searching my heart for pretense, falsehood and impure motives, I thought through my commitments and my friendships, my goals and my priorities.  I recounted words that I have recently spoken and those I have written down, weighing each syllable.  And a few things, a few words, a few conversations stirred uncomfortably in my heart.

No, that email didn't need to be sent, those words didn't need to be said, that post didn't need to be... posted. It wasn't so much that I needed to repent, just learn... and to recommit to purity, which is, in a way, authenticity.  It takes courage to do this thing, this life, content to be just as we are.  Purely as we are. Not chasing likes; not on the cul de sac, not online, not at church, not at the kids' school. It takes courage to be okay with where we are and who we are today.  It takes courage to live authentically - comfortable in our own skin - comfortable with where the boundary lines lie.

I remember my mom's words when she met Amy.  My friend had brought me a vanilla steamer and a pumpkin scone from Starbucks a few days after I birthed my third baby.  Refusing to come deep into our home, not wanting to interrupt the sanctity of our family time, Amy stood at the open door. With blond hair backlit by the sun, there was a sort of shekinah radiance to her presence.

I brought the baby close and Amy laughed, mouth full open, because Amy does that.  Then she was gone.

Closing the door I saw my mom smiling from the kitchen.  "She may have one of the most authentic laughs I've ever heard.  It's just so real it bubbles up and out of her."

I want to laugh like that.  No, more than that, I want to live like that.

Social media, sure why not, but I'm talking about like.  Life wide open like a conduit of real. Wide open like Amy's laughter and the gifts she brings.

This week I've been real - really busy - and really unable to write.  Sure, I could have pushed some words out and made them stick together... but it would not have been authentic because my time and affections called me in other directions.  Likewise, there were friends I wanted to call, but the call of motherhood rang clearer and nearer, and so I leaned in close to my child with the leg cramps and rubbed him from his knee to his toes late into the night.  I didn't call my friends and I didn't write a blog post. And my husband waited up for me, because meeting up with him authentically is also the life I lead.

That is where I've been.  Trying to live fully present right where I am.

It's not always laughing, with mouth open and head thrown back, but it is open and real and courageous, this moment by moment life.  Embracing life, embracing kids, embracing emotions, embracing each moment authentically.

There was a song I sang as a child.  I sing it to myself now like a conversation with the Lord:

"All I ever have to be is what you've made me.

Any more of less would be a step out of Your plan.

As you daily recreate me, help me always keep in mind,

that I only have to do what I can find.

All I ever have to be is what You've made me." - Amy Grant

Today is a new day, a new day for more of this courage and more of this commitment to live, humbly and happily, doing just what I can find.  Join me in the journey?

Time to Pray:

Dear Lord, 

Help us each to abide in You, exactly where you have us.  

Your boundary lines fall for us in pleasant places, 

help us to believe that is true.

We want to cease from striving, 

ever-striving for life outside of your will,

for the clamor of more, the allure of better,

the seduction of lies...

We want to live right where you have us today,

because living in your plans and purposes, 

is living authentically. - Amen to that!

When boyhood turns to manhood

Today, just before dusk, he loaded up into the sidecar of his Daddy's motorcycle and rode up and out of the driveway.  His helmet bouncing like a bobble-head as he turned to wave one last time.  With a tent and two sleeping bags in the compartment behind him, and chocolate milk and donuts at his feet, father and son drove past the bougainvillea that shouted after them over the fence, as the night blooming jasmine added her parting thoughts.  And I stood there as they rattled out of sight, left alone in the fragrance of it all, thinking how my youngest is growing into a man before our eyes.  They all are.  

But the littlest, who thinks himself the biggest and always has, he turns 7 on Sunday!  So his Dad took him camping up in the mountains beyond our home.  They set up camp in the headlight of the motorcycle, then father taught son to start a campfire (without older brothers elbowing their way in).  Come morning they will hike together and throw a ball back and forth, breathing deeply the crisp mountain air.  It may sting their lungs on a cool winter's day, but it's a good kind of sting.

When they tire of the ball they will break down camp and drive into the small orchard town for lunch and a slice of apple pie. Then comes the gift; father will take son to the knife shop and help him choose his first pocket knife. And eyes will glint like the blade. Manhood.

Last weekend we took our family up another mountain for another growing up celebration.

We climbed the Southern California mountain range seeing only a dusting of snow.  The oldest had the dream of snow boarding, the middlest talked incessantly of hot cocoa, and the youngest man-child was breathless and silent, praying there'd be enough to ski upon.  And there was.  We rounded the last bend and there before us were pathways of snow, helped by the machine that turns water to ice.  And we cheered.

Checking little people into their first ski lessons we learned that Asher's class was sold out for the day, so his dad and I shrugged and took him up the bunny slope together.  It was an awkward first three minutes and then he was skiing.  All six years and 51 weeks of him, pointing his tips straight down the mountain.  When he built up speed he snowplowed to the right and then to the left.  Controlling each turn, slowing down to avoid other skiers who had fallen, and making it to the foot of the run before the rest of us.  He took our breath away and inspired tears to traverse the slopes of my cheeks multiple times because it was all so ridiculously beautiful.

I have had many bouts of doubts about raising these boys into men.  I had this picture in my head that masculinity meant every Saturday at the ball-field, but my husband isn't a ball-field sort of dad.  "Don't worry," he always said, "they will grow up to be men.

Men aren't made in the company of little boys.  Men are made with their fathers, doing masculine things."

On the chair lift we took a picture and drank in the view together.  Then our biggest /  littlest said, quite matter of fact,  "Do you know why I'm so good at this?"

"No, Asher, why are you so good at skiing?"

"Because I believe in myself."

His father nodded then said, "Happy, (for that is his nickname) lots of people believe in themselves, but..."

"No, you don't understand," Asher interrupted, "God made me good at this, and so I believe I can do it. And so I do it. With Him this is possible."

We nodded and sat in silence some more.  And there was time for it all because we were taking the chair to the top. All the way to the top with this boy-turning-man who believed in himself, because God gave him this unique ability.  Near the top Asher spoke again, "You know how I used to want to be a professional surfer and tell people about Jesus?... Well now I'm thinking I could be a professional snow skier and tell people about Jesus."

Do you ever worry that you aren't doing enough or doing it right or doing it like the other parents are doing it there on your cul de sac?  I do sometimes.  But my husband reminds me faithfully that these boys will grow to men, and that it will not be by accident. Tonight I believe him.  

Do you have any rites of passage that you walk your boys through?  An age when they get their first pocket knife or go on their first father / son adventure?  A party just for them when they hit a certain age, to celebrate their growing up into a man? Might I suggest the wonderful, inspiring book, Raising a Modern Day Knight: A Father's Guide to Guiding His Son to Authentic Manhood, that encourages these ritual celebrations.  It casts a vision for the growing up adventure our sons are on and invites us to participate purposefully.  There is no one way to do this celebratory journey, except to commit to traveling it intentionally beside them, up the mountain, with pocket knife securely fastened to their belt.

For more posts on joy and challenges of raising boys up and into men, follow The MOB Society on Facebook.

Lent: The People of the Cross

It was a holy kind of cold that enveloped me this early morning, with shivers and sweats.  I dropped my kids off at school and came home all aching on the inside; anxious and out of sorts, though I didn't know exactly why.  I knew I'd been off my routine both practically and spiritually these past few weeks. Actually, if I'm going to be honest here, I haven't been consistent in my time with The Lord since 2014.  And then there's been so much in the news to shake a grounded woman loose.  And to top it off... we've been busy. In the busyness of life, I'd lost track of the cross.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.  A time to give up in order to give in... into the cross.  And so I gave in, full heart and full attention to the Lord.  And as I prayed and read and meditated upon the cross, I thought of these men.

In the days before Lent, 21 Christian Egyptians were martyred for their confession of faith.  21 People of the Cross.

There have been news reports, editorials, blog posts, pictures, heated debates, and prayers circling social media - ones I've read, names I've prayed over, and conversations I've had.  But today, on this first day of Lent, it all came together for me.

We must commit to being People of the Cross this Lenten season.

In the face of persecution, People of the Cross.

In the midst of uncertainty, People of the Cross.

In the busy places of our lives,

in the frightening places in the world,

in the aching places of our souls...

People of the Cross.

But what does that mean to you and to me in our everyday,

waking up,

getting kids dressed,

working,

doing laundry,

loving our spouses,

getting dinner on the table,

teaching the kids to clear their plates

and brush their own teeth lives?

What does it mean to be People of the Cross in this distracting, unpredictable, terror-tempted life?

That's what I want to know, because that's who I want to be in the midst of it all.

And so this Lent, I will fast from those extra minutes of sleep, to find my rest in the One who died upon the cross.  I will pull back warm covers when the morning sky is not yet light, to gaze upon the Light of His Countenance.  Here in these Lenten days, before each one bombards me with her headlines, I will dive headlong into the hope we have, secure, because of the Cross.

Come with me this Lent.  Come with me to the cross, through the rich love letter of God's "Radical Word." For they might threaten us with radical Islam, but we choose to set our minds and our hope upon radical love as displayed upon the cross.

"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing,

but to us who are being saved it is the power of God."

(1 Corinthians 1:18)

Let us commit to being People of the Cross!

Savor motherhood

I tore myself away from the laundry smelling void of anything - void of fragrance because the artificial smells give my oldest son a painful case of eczema.  Raw and sore and needing a hot shower and ointments late at night.  So I put down the nothing smelling socks and undershirts and followed my nose outside where all three of them were riding scooters down the driveway this afternoon.  Orange trees bearing, lemon trees budding, and the jasmine just starting to open her aromatic petals.  

Engulfed in the fragrance I sat on the cinderblock wall and drank it all in. The whooping and the hollering and the squeals of, "Watch me, Mama!"  All of it fragrant.  So I inhaled deeply, until I was drunk on their joy.

Now don't you for a moment put me on some motherhood pedestal where this pulling away from chores to bathe in their laughter comes easily.  For all the times I do sit and enjoy my little people, there are a hundred and ten times I find another room needing my attention.  For all the times I carry out fragrant-less chores from room to room, there are people bursting with the flavor of life running in and out of the front door.

But the confession is more than that... their colorful lives that smell of citrus and sunshine often times get in the way of my grey existence when I have an agenda to get through.  And then, on top of that, I have these dreams.  Dreams of having some alone time and writing out a story and making something beautiful on a canvas to adorn the walls here in our home.

But then I hear then singing.  Loud and sure.  I hear them strumming and singing and splashing in the backyard and I know that I must give in to real life in their midst.  Because their muscles are growing larger and stronger and their eyes are shining brighter, and their heads are taller than they were yesterday.  And I don't want to miss this.

There are countless blog posts floating around the internet today about the top things our children need from us during this tender fleeting stage, but this past week I've been aware, (aware to the point of heartsick!) of the ways I keep rushing past my own need to savor my children before they are grown.  I am daily aware of my temporary needs to get rest and a workout and a laugh with friends, but there is a deeper need than that right here in my home.  Though I feel it or not, my deepest need, here in the midst of motherhood, is to taste and experience each day that smells of earth, each kiss that smacks of maple syrup, each laugh that shakes the eucalyptus leaves.  I need to live, truly live it with them.

Today as my youngest wrote "Be My Valentime" again and again on 19 envelopes, I thought, "This may be the last time a boy in my home says Valentime.  Valentime.  And I just couldn't bring myself to correct him.

So when he addressed his last note and turned to ask me for a game of dominos, I just had to say Yes.  There he was, all cozy in his jammmies and holding the bear he breathes soft nighttime breath into night after night, so I put down the dishes and said, Yes.  Because there is power in our yeses.  I already knew that was true.  I knew that they needed our Yeses to believe they are loved, I just didn't know how much I needed those sacred yeses too!

Yes.

Yes, I will savor this moment with you before it has passed us by altogether, like dominoes falling one day after another.  Yes, I will leave those dishes till another time.  Yes, I will come out and watch you skate and come to your room to see the fort you've made.  Yes, I will sit down and have a mug of cocoa too as you tell me all the names of your Hobbit Legos.  And, yes, I will sing you one more song tonight.

Yes.

I want fragrant memories of these years together, and those can only come from having lived fragrant days by their side.  Not driving them from one place to another, not talking at them while forgetting to listen to them, and most assuredly not by breathing the same air in our home whilst forgetting to stop and really breathe them in... deeply.

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalm 90:12

So I got down on the floor today and sat on cinder blocks and wasn't ready for dinner. And I touched their soft skin, already prickly with "man hair."  And I told them made up stories about what college is going to be like and how tall they will grow to be.  And I told them that their wives will all smell of peaches in the summertime and how they will take their families to the beach with all their kids.  Their kids will all be cousins together. And there was so much giggling. All of this falling one into the other, like dominoes being played out on dusty hardwood floors.

Yes.

So goodbye and goodnight and farewell, because I have people to love here in my home.  And you have your people there in yours.  So let's close for now.  Without 10 things they need from us, remembering only this one simple thing that we desperately need.

Yes.

Because we need Yeses too!

Marriage is a riddle: Love and Respect vs. The Chicken and The Egg

What came first?  The chicken or the egg?

Some age-old riddles can only be solved from a biblical perspective.

'Then God said, 'Let the waters teem with swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth in the open expanse of the heavens.' And God created the great sea monsters, and every living creature that moves, with which the waters swarmed after their kind, and every winged bird after its kind; and God saw that it was good. And God blessed them, saying, 'Be fruitful and multiply on the earth.'"  (Genesis 1:20-22)

When God created the heavens and the earth, and brought forth life, He did so purposefully, without accident.  Primordial mud and sludge cannot still the thunderous glory of an intentional creator God. No, God was not confused as he brought life from the void, He set up His plan masterfully. And He saw that what he created was very good.

Then He went on to bless what He had made by giving animals this command, "And God blessed them, saying, 'Be fruitful and multiply on the earth.'" (vs.22)

First came the chicken, then the egg.

What in the world does this have to do with marriage and the riddle of loving one another well?  Only this:  God has a purpose and an order to all that He created.  And He proclaims it good, when we follow the plan He laid down long ago.

But it doesn't always feel good, does it?  The loneliness and awkwardness we never expected to find, here on the other side of our vows.

So we turn to the pattern laid forth in God's Word.

"Wives, be subject to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, as Christ also is the head of the church, He Himself being the Savior of the body. But as the church is subject to Christ, so also the wives ought to be to their husbands in everything.  Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ also loved the church and gave Himself up for her." (Ephesian 5: 22-25)

Here's my gripe: Why does this charge to honor and subject ourselves to our husbands come before their command to love us?  Doesn't it feel backwards?  It does to me.  When I think of love making in our bed at night, I know how natural it is for me to love him physically when I've experienced his love in word and deed throughout the day.  A gentle touch, an ordinary compliment, a flirty text... When he does these things that show ordinary love, I respond in extraordinarily ordinary ways that meet his core needs. Back and forth the giving and receiving moves like the faithful tide.

There is a popular book entitled "Love and Respect" that speaks to the way a man's need for respect and a woman's need for love work together with God crafted synchronicity.  When we respect him, he responds with love, and when we feel loved, we respond with respect, and when he experiences our respect, he responds lovingly, and when we experience his love, we in turn are respectful of him... and the cycle rolls on in its God intended design.

Only... we are sinful.  We go astray.  Selfish rather than loving, dishonoring rather than honoring; and they are often undeserving of our respect.  And so, sometimes in an instant, this healthy cycle of love and respect, or the chicken and its egg, goes terribly awry.  And the cycle turns on itself like a festering wound. Before we know it we are withholding respect, which makes him turn cold and pull back, hurting us more deeply than before so we are curt in turn, and he holes up in his man cave, and we go to bed angry, only to wake up hurt and quiet, so he leaves early for work, early before the children wake up.  And we wonder... What now?

What comes first?  The chicken or the egg?  Do we go on waiting for his apology to kickstart the cycle?  Or do we turn to God's wisdom and design for the answer to marriage's confusing riddle?

What comes first?

I believe God knew exactly what He was doing when He put these verses together in the order He did.  So often we jump over our part and point out our husband's role, with hurtful accusations.  But today, regardless of where we are in the cycle, can we commit to going first?  Would you, with me, choose to subject yourself to showing respect and honor to the one you vowed to love?  Today, this morning, wake up and bring him coffee, tell him how much you appreciate the way he works to support your family and the way he comes home each night and invests in the children's lives.  Text him today and ask him if there's anything he'd like for you to pick up at the store when you're out.  Make him his favorite dinner or dessert, and say a positive word when he comes in the door.

This isn't easy.  Ask Him for His power to do this thing we call marriage.  Call a girlfriend and ask her for her faithful prayers as you commit to going first in your marriage today, then cover her God-designed love relationship with your own prayers.

This is not a riddle, but it is difficult.  Still, I charge you with great love and exhortation, to begin today fresh and persevere in love and respect... and I commit to the same.