Aging Gracefully?

In the last eight weeks, my baby turned eight, my middle child became a teenager and my oldest (whom I still remember as a wee babe on my shoulder) turned 15 and is talking about getting his learner’s permit. What is happening!?? My babies are growing up.

I’m realizing I’m older yet I can’t seem to make my body, mind and spirit all fit together. I’m supposedly part of the older generation who doesn’t understand a thing about the younger one. I certainly can’t keep up with the band names or video game characters, but I do remember what it felt like to be a pimply-faced, insecure adolescent. However, along with that ability to instantly flash back decades and still feel poignant sentiments, I’m also a member of the “establishment” (yeah, that group the hippies rebelled against when I was a child in the ‘60’s and are now running themselves). I’m in that undefined collection of mid-lifers: the tired and highly responsible, mostly underpaid women who are intent on “getting stuff done”. Admittedly I have little energy left for having a creative and vibrant life. Working on that one.

These three boys are the result of about $35,000 + worth of fertility and high-risk pregnancy measures. And the grace of God. Thankfully those were the days of a beautiful corporate benefit package in which insurance covered most of those high costs. Small business entrepreneurship, while part of the definition of the American dream, doesn’t afford such luxuries. Glad I had my babies earlier. I’m honored to have been the incubator to bring my darlings into the world. I think it’s now time to spend that same money to upgrade this thermoregulator’s exterior.

I can identify at least five areas of my body I’d love to have tightened, stitched, nipped, tucked, injected or just plain vaporized. Am I willing to actually invest cold hard cash and face the risk of possibly looking like Joan Rivers or a Dragon*Con mask? Not yet. I’ve had a few minor touch-ups just shy of going under the full anesthesia though and haven’t regretted it.

A recent doctor’s appointment revealed my weight to be the highest yet in a nonpregnant state. Hhhmm. Staying fit and healthy and also being comfortable in one’s own skin – with the body God gave us – that’s a challenge. I don't usually put less-than-flattering photos of myself up but today I'm doing it. This is who I am. God made me in His image.

I will say though, if it came down to beauty vs. wisdom, I’d go for the latter.



Taking a Dare

I took a new dare this year that has the potential to change my mindset. I only know this from seeing many people do the same thing and having found they felt better.

This New Year, I didn’t make resolutions knowing I wouldn’t be disciplined enough to keep them. However, I’m chewing on some ideas, turning them around in my head. They’re safe there, untested. Trying to implement them in practical reality has often proved to be a challenge requiring a commitment to discipline that I don’t possess. I used to try to make my resolutions “official”, almost ceremonious - as if that would make them more legitimate and increase the odds for success. Doesn’t work.

I’ve been reading Ann Voskamp’s bestselling book One Thousand Gifts – a semi-autobiography, poetically written, about finding joy in the mundane, learning the art of gratitude. She was dared by a friend to write down 1,000 blessings, gifts, or anything she appreciated in life no matter how small -- the ultimate goal being to change the perspective from one of ingratitude and other negative states of mind (i.e. resentment, apathy, discontent, anxiety, anger, etc.) to that of thankfulness and appreciation for the life before us. On a greater scale, she came to believe it could actually heal some deep wounds in her life. She chose the cool Greek word Eucharisteo – thanksgiving.  How many of us go through the motions of our days, sometimes lifelessly, gradually losing our capacity to feel?

Since the book’s publishing, she’s dared readers of her blog to do the same. So I’m taking the dare…with some trepidation. It’s hard to imagine finding 1,000 things to appreciate. Then again, I’m the queen of lists; I can do this. Looking at some of the things on Ann’s list, they’re pretty darn mundane – but if they bring her joy and alter her mindset, maybe they can do the same for me? I’d sure be a nicer person if that were to happen.

Another concept the author discusses at length is being present – being “all there”. This is amusingly so Zen Buddhist. We in the West of Judeo-Christian persuasion can really learn from Eastern practices. We’re so not geared for being mindful and living in the present. Instead, we languish about the past and plan, worry and try to rent time in the future. I’m the guiltiest of that habit. Do we actually gain time or fix anything doing that?

So far, I’ve been list-keeping for about a week while also reading the book, and I’m encountering a surprisingly more positive mentality. I am so not the “happy” type. I’m a Type A, semi-obsessive, control-oriented, sometimes anxious, easily irritated introvert. Okay, that’s the worst of me. I’ve been writing about 3-4 blessings per day and I think I can even improve on that. The reminder to continue to shift my thinking is helping me see the glass half-full rather than my usual half-empty. Will it really net positive dividends??

Here are a few on my list:

13. When Wesley (my eight-year old) leans up against me, all warm

14. Looking at Wesley’s soft facial features – eyelashes, peach skin, sea blue eyes, glossy golden hair

15. Lying on my large, full-back, massage-grade heating pad at night

16. Pouring my cup of coffee with cream first thing in the morning

17. Breaking off a hunk of 70% cacao dark chocolate and mixing it with salted almonds, savoring flavors

Okay, those are pretty boring but they make me happy. Somehow making my arm and hand move to name it on paper and then reading them is slowly -- just a little bit – lifting my burdens.

Linking up with Ann at http://www.aholyexperience.com/



Called to the Torah

We were all very Jewish last weekend.

Invited to attend the bar mitzvah of one of our son’s best friends, we got to witness this boy become a “son of the commandments” and take his place in the Jewish community as a man, we experienced the beauty and majesty of ancient traditions.

Not that this was my first time in a synagogue. I’ve been to Shabbat services and bar and bat mitzvahs. But each time I enter a sanctuary, it’s like I’m there for the first time again – speechless, enthralled, absorbed in the pathos of Jewish history. And the music, the chants, the reverence for the Torah scrolls, and the God who holds a special place in His heart for His people. I (who almost never cry) am reduced to tears nearly every time.

We entered the service with quiet timidity, the boys in their yarmulkes, and found our seats in the pew with about 20 other students and parents from our son’s school. Most all of us from the school community are not Jewish and this was an education for many. Despite the very long service, many of the students followed along in the worship manual and the Bibles as the scriptures were read, in both Hebrew and English.

As his friend read and chanted his Torah and Haftarah portions surrounded by supportive clergy and family and enshrouded in his tallit prayer shawl, we marveled at his proficiency in Hebrew and the inflection of the chant melodies.

I’m always amazed at the multigenerational the family involvement; everyone plays a part. Lifting out the Torah scrolls from the ark, carrying the scrolls, holding them open for reading, leading a hymn singing praises, or offering prayers.

The Cantor’s rich baritone carried out into the space guiding our voices in worship. The beautiful melodies and liturgy illustrates the drama through time and how God has done mighty things.

Sometimes it’s hard to get my mind around the history with all its suffering, persevering, and flourishing, and then suffering, persevering and flourishing again. From subtle discriminatory comments to global massacres, our Jewish brothers and sisters have put one foot in front of the other through the Diaspora, the Middle Ages, pogroms in Russia, the Holocaust, even the Protestant South (oops, did I write that or did I just think it?) To know they have practiced many of these faith traditions, whether freely or in secret under cover, for over 4,000 years, boggles my mind.

Exploring the Jewish roots of my faith always expands my worldview. It reminds me that God is moving through time and space, and in this Advent season we are all awaiting a universal Shalom from One who can heal this broken world.



Advent-ure

Pardon the goofy title. Advent is an adventure though -- it is so counter-culture. It’s all about pushing back the tidal wave of societal pressure to rush, to do, to buy… and instead carve out a way to just BE. It doesn’t fit with our lifestyle here in the West. Advent is about waiting, being quiet, longing for the Light.

Even without the frenzied “Twenty-one shopping days left until Christmas!” headlines on the evening news, throughout the rest of the year we still live by “to-do” lists half a mile long, multi-tasking, and crazy busyness. And before the last Thanksgiving dinner dish is washed and dried, the Christmas decorations are coming out. This year, in some neighborhoods near my home where apparently there is a contest to see whose house will win the most bedecked award, there appeared gargantuan inflatables and enough string lights to gratify the power company – and they were up around November 22nd. I had to look away when I drove by. Did Jesus really want this when He came down to earth as a babe of humble beginnings?

History and ritual play a part in our family’s celebrations of the seasons of the Christian year, or “sacred time” as a friend of mine has coined it. As believers have done since the sixth century, we try to lie low during at least the first part of December (despite having two birthdays occurring during the holidays – great family planning, huh?) and focus on the quiet preparatory aspects of the season. The liturgical year begins with Advent, and as we move through each of the year’s spiritual seasons, we participate in the drama that illustrates the story of our faith.

Many nights at dinner time, one of the children lights an Advent candle and says “Come Lord Jesus into our midst”. Much like the Jewish lighting of Shabbos candles to usher in the Sabbath each week, we invite God’s spirit to join us (and help keep peace with three boys) for our evening meal.

Also, among the many Christmas stories we read this month, we also revisit the Advent portion of a children’s book on keeping the seasons of the church year – mainly with my youngest son as the others feel too old. It’s a delightful, well-illustrated book called Come Worship with Me: A Journey through the Church Year.

It’s a story of a little mouse who narrates for the reader telling about his sacramental experiences at his church and what it means for his faith.

Finally, a new tradition we’re beginning this year is the daily lighting of the Cradle to Cross wreath created by Ann Voskamp’s son Caleb. We’re moving the figurine of Mary on the donkey forward a step each day and light candles in the holder that correspond with the days.

I listen to Early Music (meaning music from early times up to the Renaissance – 16^th century) in the car and often in the evenings by the fire. It takes me out of his century, this decade, this culture just for a bit and reminds me to see the world in the larger scope of history. I feel like I connect with people of ages past who lived in harsher circumstances yet struggled to find ways to live with meaning. Then I can return to the present with a greater sense of His presence.

All of these rituals allow us to use our senses to experience our faith and see God's promises through time season in and season out, walking through the cycles. These little things help us keep the pace of Advent, which is far slower than the secular Christmas holiday. We women especially fall in to a mad rat race, becoming burdened with the myriad tasks of baking, shopping, cleaning, shuttling, dressing, partying, decorating, entertaining, more shopping, volunteering in the classroom or church or the community, giving and more giving... It’s a production we mount for an entire month. Too much for a lot of us.  

  

Let’s slow down and listen and be, so we can rediscover the light in the darkness.

Linking up with Charity Singleton at Wide Open Spaces for the Advent writing project she’s hosting at The High Calling and with Laura Bogess at The Wellspring.

‘Tis the Gift to Be Simple, ‘tis the Gift to be Free”

I’m not a big fan of the Shaker lifestyle. Enforced celibacy, communal living, gender segregation, and plain, stripped-down houses and clothes aren’t exactly my idea of fun, but I appreciate the Shakers’ efforts to live more simply as stated in the Shaker hymn in the title. That part is inspiring. However, I don’t apologize for being in to fashion, and holiday decorating is practically a sacrament for me.

 

Thanksgiving was simpler this year -- just the five of us in our humble home. Tim and I cooked our buns off and involved the boys in preparing each of the side dishes.

 

For an assignment in his culinary arts class, Matthew was tasked with making one dish and bringing in the recipe, so I put him to work making mashed potatoes.

Nicholas, my foodie who truly loves cooking, helped prepare the cranberry apple relish.

 

Wesley put all the ingredients in the bread maker for fresh wheat bread.

 

Tim roasted a beef brisket! As all of us were a bit "turkey'd out", we decided it was a good year for eating outside the box.

I did a little of this, a little of that, making sure it all came together.

 

As the weather was unseasonably warm, we ate out on the deck in the sun.

So much to be thankful for.

Matthew read the first proclamation of the pilgrims written in 1676 -- one big, long run-on sentence in old English.

Had not those people braved the elements and suffered sickness and hunger (and probably some despair), we mightn't be here today. They knew sorrows as well as joys. I know them too and can't always reconcile the two. One day at a time.

 

One day at a time. "Now thank we all our God...with hearts and hands and voices..."

Gratitude List

Expressing gratitude has the power lift us out of anger, fear, anxiety, self pity and a host of other maladies. 

Yes, it’s that time of year – the proverbial retelling of our American story. Some families do the round-the-table recitations. Many of us show our gratitude by stuffing our faces with food and then zoning out in a carb coma in front of football. From turkey skin to pig skin. Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, in a “Saturday Night Live” skit called it a “Baroque festival of overconsumption”. The great American tradition.

I’m trying to go deeper. Each Thanksgiving week, I read the story to at least one of the children and to myself and talk about how it really was for the Pilgrims. I never tire of rereading the accounts, and never cease to be amazed and overwhelmed at how raw and arduous life was on a daily basis. I wonder how many of them silently wondered, never to speak aloud: “Was it worth this?” as they shivered in the cold, got sick on the wobbly ship before the houses were built, or watched another member die of sickness that first winter:

When I see suffering or experience it myself, either presently or learn of it in the past, I am starting to make gratitude lists to remind me of the goodness that still exists to keep me from sinking into melancholy that takes too long to emerge from. When I write them out to share in a blog, they sound so trite. They’re different each time and don’t all encompass everything I’m grateful for.

But here’s my humble, short list, for today:

1. For the wondrous changing of leaves in autumn. To me, it means relief.
2. For music that can stir a heart that has stiffened in trying to protect itself from pain.
3. For weather cold enough to make me need socks and sweaters.
4. For the familiar warmth of a fire in the fireplace.
5. For a society free enough to express praise, criticism, new ideas.
6. For the way caring people send food – always food, our sustenance – to those who are suffering.
7. For the simple lessons of Charlie Brown.
8. For the unconditional love of dogs.
9. For “The Splendid Table” on NPR radio on Saturday mornings.
10. For my three children, who remind me of what it’s like to be a child: the joys, the wounds, the freshness of living.
11. For tufts of hair sticking out from under the ruffled covers.
12. Yes, for mismatched socks lying around on the floor. There was a time when I would have paid big money just to have little bodies in the house to cause extra laundry.
13. For servicemen and women who put their lives on the line daily to keep us free.
14. For “Saturday Night Live” which makes fun of everything.
15. That God can be found in the midst of chaos.

What does your gratitude list look like?



First Fire

A few days ago my seven year old Wesley said to me, “Mommy, I think we need a tradition just for our family. It can be called ‘First Fire’ -- when we light a fire in the fireplace for the first time.” I thought it was brilliant. We waited until it got really cold and windy outside (and it just so happened that the moon was full, making it feel even more “official”).

Rituals are very important  – we all have them -- even for people who think they don’t like ritualistic or liturgical worship or events. Even for people who have no identified faith traditions. We all participate in certain rituals in our lives even if we make them up.

To see me in fall you’d think I was a pagan who worshipped pumpkins and fall decorations. No, I don’t dance crazily around a blazing fire. But I do celebrate seasonal changes with the bounty from that harvest, be it colorful leaves, pumpkins, gourds and nut-filled glass vases in autumn (yes I go to the trouble to collect them) or bittersweet berry branches, Nandina, cypress greens and waxed magnolias in winter. Or forsythia (that I force into bloom), daffodils and cherry blossoms in spring. Summer’s easy with so much in bloom; I have to say gardenias and hydrangeas are my favorite. And then there’s food. Who couldn’t love the Macintosh apples and Scuppernong grapes that hit the grocery stores in September, or the pumpkin and potato soups and meat stews to be made and savored in winter? Or fruit smoothies, fruit pies and endless fresh produce in spring and summer? These are just celebrations of nature’s cycles.

Wesley was not living in a modern microcosm of smart phones, social media or “to do” lists; he was feeling close to the earth and wanting something to celebrate. Who can blame him? We all need things we can rejoice over – as Julia Roberts’ character said in the film “Eat Pray Love”: “I just want to go some place where I can marvel at something”. Don’t we adults lose that fervor for life somewhere along the path? Especially those of us are task-oriented and who seem to get a lot accomplished? Experiencing life in all its color, both light and dark, doesn’t happen when you live in the future (i.e. constantly on the go, planning, planning, planning, shuttling, shopping online, micromanaging logistics for Christmas…). Not that any of those things are inherently bad – it’s just when we don’t carve out a “pause” for BEING. Who is as much to blame for this as anyone? Moi. It’s so hard with so many distractions and demands pulling you in all directions.

 As the passion of young flames calms down as the wood burns, the fire becomes hotter and more mesmorizing. It's the kind of dark, quiet one can get lost in. Settled but fluid, constantly moving. Our Labrador Chelsea (may she rest in peace) used to sit and stare into it for long periods of time. I often wondered what was going through her head.

Wesley’s simple suggestion was a great reminder to me to slow down. We lit the fire last night, amidst lots of silly, grandeur from the mom like, “And now we draw from the ancient and noble traditions of our ancestors and pass the gift of fire lighting down to the youngest of the tribe, who will honor his forbears to carry to torch to future generations…” as I gave him the gas flame torch to click on the logs. And speaking of enrichment, the hot chocolate that ensued was enriched with all kinds of unnecessary but highly celebratory additions like sugar, cream, caramel sauce, and marshmallows ….to make it really worth it.