April Truth Set Me Free

It happens every time.

In high school, it was rock music. The debate about whether the subliminal messages or the ruckus beat interfered with a Christian’s spiritual growth. In junior high I watched as my mom smashed her Beatles, Monkeys, The Carpenters and a few miscellaneous others all for our spiritual protection.

At church our youth group was filled with musicians. Some even became professional in adulthood. They listened to rock music and played it during jam sessions. When I worshiped alongside them, I felt Holy Spirit’s presence. It was just as strong as when I listened to my Mother play and lead worship in corporate service.

To say I was confused was an understatement.

Then came:

Abortion.
Sex before marriage.
Cohabitation.
Divorce.
Dress codes.
The correct way to pray.
Interpretations of Revelation.

I could go on…

Each and every time a culture war erupted, my heart would grieve. Like a black hole in my chest, I could feel God cry.

Mourning the hate.
Lamentening for those who were the focus of the anger.
Angry about how God was being portrayed.

AND most important, how God’s redemptive story compromised for absolute rules.

Last week was no different. World Vision and the Noah movie left me feeling like I had been kicked in the chest.

Monday I woke up under a cloud of depression. I forced myself to walk the dogs. To eat. To fulfill my chores around the house, then that afternoon, a cry for help.

Molley at A Mother Life began sharing a potential injustice. She, an immigrant, was facing investigation from Homeland Security. It consumed my afternoon. Checking her Facebook and Twitter, my heart found a new focus of lament.

My imaginary interweb friend faced being ripped from her family. I began to pray. With breathless hope I prayed,

For justice.
For mercy.
For our divine Mediator to bring peace.
For confusion to become clear.

With these prayers in my heart I fell asleep. My night filled with nightmares of myself being abducted by aliens. The Mutant standing by helplessly as my kids were ripped from my arms. Aliens taking me in their ship to Ayers’ Rock and depositing me in the middle of that wilderness. The rest of the dream was filled with my crawling back to my family and home.

Throughout the whole dream I knew it wasn’t about me, it was about Molley. I continued to pray through the whole night.

Next morning first thing I did was message her to tell her about my prayers for her. Not something I usually do.

She messaged me back right away with a Thanks and a link: The Truth Shall Set Me Free.

It did.

In ways she never intended.

You see, the whole thing was a rouse. An April Fool’s prank.

I sat on my bedroom floor and felt: angry, relief, exhaustion and finally JOY. With tears I laughed. I giggled all day long. The cloud of depression was cleared away by my tears of relief and laughter. I realized it all works for good. God’s Good.

If I focus on my calling-to love my neighbor-God takes care of the rest. 

Walk with Dogs- Laughter

I had a plan for my day.

I was going to put away Christmas and decorate the house for the New Year. I am ready to see pretty white sparkly things.

Little did I know.

First order of business was to walk the dogs. At the driveway, we passed a dad and his three children all of them were enjoying Christmas gifts, a scooter and bikes. With Watson on my left and Daisy on my right, we left them behind and found our rhythm.

A quarter of the way around, I lost in thought saw the daughter coming my way. Her golden curls dancing in the breeze under her safety helmet. With musical synchronization her foot touched the ground as her pink scooter whizzed by me.

Watson, the friendly Basset Hound wanted to say, “Hello.”

He stepped in front of me. I, each hand occupied with a leash, picked up my right to push him back. He stepped forward.

THEN

Did you know asphalt has a flavor? It is a mix of old coffee grounds, burnt barbeque ribs and dirt. I drew my hands up from my sides and pushed myself upright. My glasses felt funny. I saw stars.

Watson sat there looking at me very confused.

The tears began quickly followed by the jokes. I hurt and wanted to cry, but the funny bone took over. Soon I was losing the ability to see out of my right eye. My sunglasses were bent.

Of course I laughed and cried all the way home while this rolling dialogue carried me forward:

Watson wanted to say hello to a little girl on a scooter.

One way to feel young again at 45 is to fall on your face in front of a little girl riding a scooter wearing a safety helmet.

Do I need a safety helmet now to walk the dogs?

I never bruise. It would just be my luck that something this fantastic would not leave a mark.

I walked in the house, ready to break down. Zany-playing with his new rifle sized Nerf blaster- jumped back in horrified shock as I handed him Watson’s leash.

“You need to walk him two more miles.”

“Uh… okay.”

Thoughts in his mind:

How did Mom mess up her make-up so soon… OHhhh. She doesn’t have make-up on.

How long will it be before she makes a joke out of this?

I handed GirlyK my phone. Her lips pursed to hold her stomach in. I said the only logical thing in this age of social media,

“Quick take my picture.”

 

“Uh… okay.”

Thoughts in her mind:

How did Mom get an easter egg under her eyebrow?

Both scurried away as I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and sat down. Thousands of ice knives thrust themselves into my head with pulsating waves. Screaming obscenities at the Counting Mutant because he says ice makes everything feel better. And then I laughed because I felt young with skinned knees. Watson wanted to be friendly. I can check “get a black eye” off my bucket list. I have peas on my face. The right side of my smile looks a little like Joker’s.

Laughter makes life worth living.

Laughter At A Funeral

My brother in law died in April 2009. 

Tensions were high that morning as we prepared for the day filled with overwhelming emotion and numb brains. The Counting Mutant was the designated speaker of the eulogy. His brother had committed suicide. People filed into the small funeral chapel. Family seated together in the front rows all with tears creeping down, their faces filled with confusion.

Two decades before I sat in this very funeral home. In high school, a friends’ sister was killed in a boating accident. She was barely a teen. Not long after we again met to bury their mother killed in an automobile accident. Those memories invaded my mind as I sat next to my sweet Mutant. His stoic nature created a calm demeanor. I knew he was struggling though, deep within his introverted self. The last natural son of his father, the duty to speak had fallen to him.

Music started to play. The collective hearts in the room began to sink. On queue, the Mutant walked up to the podium. I braced myself. He shakily began his carefully crafted speech.

He was so brave. His voice quivered just a little, his gaze connecting to each person in the room as he spoke those first few sentences.

Then…

To my horror that sweet man drop his face and gazed at the podium. One of his hands flew up to cover his eyes as he shook his head. My friends grabbed my hands in comfort as we watched him shutter a little. I heard everyone supportively hold their breath as we waited for him to gather himself. After a few moments he lifted his face. With a changed expression on his face the eulogy was eloquently finished. Something happened in that moment to lighten his burden. I wasn't sure if it was resolve or…

The day was bittersweet. Tables decorated with flowers and butterflies lined our backyard. Ducks glided along the water of the lake. Hugs, Friends and family who hadn't seen each other in years softly laughed about my Brother In Law’s antics. His life was our focus. It didn't matter how he died.

Hours later The Mutant and I sat completely drained. For the first time in days we were alone. The task of the funeral completed. Sunset colored the lake in ethereal golds and reds. In the stillness we sat together outside at the empty tables littered with bits of dirty dishes yet to be cleared away.

A flicker of his hand covered face jogged my memory. I cautiously put my hand on his arm. Our hazel eyes met and I asked, "What happened during the eulogy?"

Frown lines melted and laughter filled his eyes, "As usual," he began laughing,” Just as I began to speak your parents walked through the door. Stood looking confused then quickly found a seat. I had to stop talking because I was laughing so hard. They will be late to their own funeral."

Ethics of Motherhood

The Counting Mutant sent this to me today. With these words, "I thing you have accomplished most of this."

My heart skipped a beat.

Someone had read my mind. I was not the only one with this ethos fighting the battle of perception.

I honestly thought I was alone in this. 

Struggling to conform to a Cultural Christianity version of mother and wife kept me feeling like a constant failure. Dichotomy waged its war in my head, yet these criteria led a charge. Because of this code, I felt a measure of success. 

My kids are now 18, 17 and 12. It is true what they say, Childhood flies and before you know it, they are gone. As I look at the backend of this season where time is not my own, I am a little sad. I will miss the chaos. 

Let these rules free you up for lots of laughter, a heart full of possibilities and above all joy.

Thank you Lisa-Jo Baker:

Repeat after me:

1. I shall not judge my house, my kid’s summer activities or my crafting skills by Pinterest’s standards.

2. I shall not measure what I’ve accomplished today by the loads of unfolded laundry but by the assurance of deep love I’ve tickled into my kids.

3. I shall say yes to blanket forts and see past the chaos to the memories we’re building.

Amazing Blanket Fort Ideas

4. I shall surprise my kids with trips to get ice cream when they’re already in their pajamas.

5. I shall not compare myself to other mothers but find my identity in the God who trusted me with these kids in the first place.

6. I shall remember that a messy house at peace is better than an immaculate house tied up in knots.

7. I shall play music loudly and teach my kids the joy of wildly uncoordinated dance.

8. I shall remind myself that perfect is simply a street sign at the intersection of impossible and frustration in Never Never Land.

Photo taken by alisha

9. I shall embrace the fact that in becoming a mom, I traded perfect for a house full of real.

10. I shall promise to love this body that bore these three children out loud, especially in front of my daughter.

11. I shall give my other mother friends the gift of guilt-free friendship.

12. I shall do my best to admit to my people my unfine moments.

13. I shall say sorry when sorry is necessary.

14. I pray God I shall never be too proud, angry or stubborn to ask for my children’s forgiveness.

15. I shall make space in my grown-up world for goofball moments with my kids.

16. I shall love their father and make sure they know I love him.

17. I shall model kind words to kids and grown-ups alike.

18. I shall not be intimidated by the inside of my minivan (or Durango) this season of chip bags, goldfish crackers and discarded socks too shall pass.

19. I shall always make time to encourage new moms.

20. I shall not resent that last call for kisses and cups of water but remember instead that when I blink they’ll all be in college.