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Today after chuch, after amazingly convincing and coaxing my childen to get into the van, despite the piles of snow that they were positively yearning to jump into – church clothes and shoes and all – I managed to wrangle Eli into his seat.  I went to the other side and put Justus in his seat.  I was waiting for Callie Grace to get the message and hop in, which she is normally good to do.  In her great desire to please her mamma, she thought she could be helpful by shutting the automatic door.  While my head was still on the inside of the van.  Did anyone else assume that the door stops if it senses an object in it’s way? 

It does not.

So there I found myself, absolutely squashed in between the door and the side of the van, the door pinning my head with an impressive and wild force, while I’m calmly trying to get Callie to hit the button to let me loose.  Calmly. Quietly.  After all, I am in the chuch parking lot. 

This is exactly where my neurosis sets in.  In the middle of the sharp pain, it occurred to me how funny and how utterly ridiculous I looked, pinned in my van, unable to get my head free.  So then I started laughing, which, on the pain scale, was not beneficial, but on the mental health scale, was awesome.  At the same time, Justus, who is totally unaware of his momma’s current trauma, is discussing the merits of his three different vacuum cleaners at home, quite earnesly.

I finally get Callie Grace’s attention away from the lovely diamonds the sun leaves in the snow enough to get her to open up the door.

For some reason, I have been laughing about this all day.  And it’s not from lack of pain, my head is still killing me.  Partly it comes from wanting to so much to always look like I’ve got it together (although anyone who saw Justus’ hair today would know that indeed, I do not!).  Sometimes these painfully embarassing moments are exactly what God sends me to lighten me up, to help me see the joy in the ridiculous, unexpected, unforgetable moments.

I’m beyond certain that that there are more serious theological lessons to be taken from this, but at 10:30pm, while still at work, they elude me.  I’m happy enough with the sweet knowledge he so hilariously imparted to me today. 🙂

I’m turning 35 next week.  I love birthdays, and not just my own, really I’ll celebrate anyone’s birthday.  An excuse to be excited and eat cake, and I’m in.  I do also love my own birthday for many reasons.  I’ve never been one to hope nobody knows or remembers.  I’m the one with the countdown to my birthday on my fridge.  No really, it’s there.

Aging has never been a stressor for me.  Maybe some of that can be attributed to the fact that I’ve always looked ridiculously young for my age, and I’ve been waiting until I actually look my age to be stressed about it.  But more than that, there’s always been the certainty that I will surely get wiser with age.  I’ve always thought it as pretty much a guaranteed.  Like death and taxes.  And no parking places in the pouring rain.

So here I am, about to be 35, and for the first time, there is a small amount of panic, but since I can’t seem to ever do anything in the normal way, it is not the normal panic about getting old.  I feel panicked that I’m not wiser at all, and that indeed in some ways I’m headed in the opposite direction.

Is this normal?  Is it in the same way that the humble are unaware of their own state of humbleness? (And along the same lines, the crazy are blissfully unaware of their own craziness?…. wait…).  Does anyone ever actually feel wiser with age?  James 1:5 says, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.”  This is an extremely comforting text, followed by an extremely uncomfortable text in verse 6: “But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind.”

Oops.

Doubt is a huge topic to be tackled another day in another blog – hopefully not five months from now.  For now, tell me signs that let you know you are actually getting wiser, either in the comments or at andimeade@gmail.com.

Time to go map out my Christmas decorating strategy which goes into affect, not so coincidentally, on my birthday.

My Bible reading this morning included a few chapters of Ezra.  Now, I can’t speak for anyone else, but the idea of reading through the book of Ezra does not bring excitement to my soul.  In fact, I confess to reading through many of the Old Testament books with a sense of sheer determination, as though they were something that must be endured for my own good.  You know, like getting shots, or eating cabbage.  Painful, but beneficial.  (I apologize now to OT scholars and cabbage lovers. :))

This negative reaction really isn’t fair since, with the exception of a few chapters that give endless lists of rules or genealogies, the Old Testament is full of exciting stories and practical applications.  However, my grin-and-bear-it attitude often causes me to miss this.

Back to Ezra.  Ezra starts out with the king of Persia sending the Israelites back to Jerusalem after being in exile.  They return to what appears to be a desolate city and a destroyed temple of God.  In chapter 3 verse 8, in the ESV, “Now in the second year after their coming to the house of God at Jerusalem, in the second month, Zerubbabel the son of Shealtiel and Jeshua the son of Jozadak made a beginning, together with the rest of their kinsmen, the priests and the Levites and all who had come to Jerusalem from the captivity. They appointed the Levites, from twenty years old and upward, to supervise the work of the house of the Lord.”

That phrase, “made a beginning”, leaped out of the page and struck me with force.  As I began to ponder what that meant, I looked back at the beginning of Ezra to let what was happening really sink in.  In other translations, that phrase reads as “began the work”.

The Israelites had been set free from captivity to return home.  They returned to find much work in front of them.  Even the beginning of the verse shows that things didn’t get off to a quick start, since it took two years after they returned before they “made a beginning”, or “began the work”.

How many of us, for whatever reason, need to make a beginning, need to begin the work?  How many of us have been held captive to something, and then set free?  For all of us who are Christians, all of us know what this means.  How many of us, after being freed, still haven’t made a beginning?  In my mind, the applications for this phrase are limitless.  What is the work that needs to be done, where to do we need to start over?  Is it in our finances?  Is it in how we are raising our children?  Is it in our personal relationships?  Is it in our spiritual disciplines practice?  Is it in how we are taking care of ourselves and our surroundings? 

So often, so very often, we feel too far gone to begin the work.  Too much has happened, too much time has passed, too much destruction has come.  What a blessing for us that we have the book of Ezra to look to for an example.  With the Lord’s help, we are never too far gone.  What has been destroyed can be rebuilt.

Where do you need to make a beginning today?  Where do you need to intentionally start over and begin the work?  When the Israelites went to work rebuilding the temple, they had a game plan.  They were organized and purposeful.  If there is an area that you need to begin the work, make certain you take this to the Lord and make a plan for how to accomplish the work.  And then by the grace of God, make a beginning.

Every night, Philip and I get Callie Grace and Justus to sleep by reading and singing to them. Justus, who has not yet mastered personal pronouns, will say “Sing to you?” when you tell him it’s bedtime. There’s always a little note of panic in his voice, as if for some reason he’s afraid that we will change our minds and tell him he’s on his own. Even though we’ve never done this, not even when he wakes up multiple times in the night, and each time will ask, “Sing to you?”, to get him back to sleep. Callie Grace likes for us to read her a story and then sing to her. She’s always very concerned about the number of stories and songs that we will read and sing to her, sometimes to the point that she can’t enjoy the story being read to her, out of anxiety that it will be the last one.

Does this at all remind you of your relationship with God?

How many times does He fulfill his promises to us? How many times has He come through for us, led us through the dark places, rejoiced with us in the beautiful places, staying close to us in all circumstances, in every situation? And yet, how frequently do we experience the fear that He is not going to continue? How many needless hours are spent in worry over the future, as if we’ve been set adrift and are now entirely alone?

Jill Phillips is a Christian artist that I have come to love, and she has a song called Daily Bread. Here are the lyrics to it:

There’s a restlessness in the soul of man
Nobody’s tamed it yet
You never fail to keep any promises
But somehow we forget

With an open hand
You have exactly what I need
Daily bread

I have found this song to be incredibly helpful in reminding me of such a simple truth, a truth that the Bible states so explicitly in Hebrews 13:5 – God will never leave us or forsake us.

Callie and Justus finally drift off to sleep when they let go of their fears, and they find rest. And in Christ, so do I.

Can anyone relate when I say that I recently had an experience that catapulted me back to my high school/college self? It was weird and shocking how quickly it happened, I felt almost like I had time-traveled. I thought, how can this be? I’m now a mom of (almost) three, I have a masters degree, I’ve been in ministry with my husband for 6 years, I’ve worked as a therapist for 7 years, I’m not that same girl!

Only… am I? How much do we change as we “grow up”, and how much of the change is actually just a mask, a coping skill we’ve picked up to hide vulnerability?

I know that in many ways, I have changed. My knowledge has increased, my walk with God has deepened, my ability to face life, to embrace life, has been sharpened and strengthened. I’ve had mountaintop experiences, and I have been humbled, knocked to my knees and forced to come face to face with my own flaws and weaknesses. That experience alone changes you.

I also hope that there are aspects of me and my personality that remain the same. My teenage/early 20’s self was cheerful, positive (possibly annoyingly so at times), excited about the future, highly emotional (possibly annoyingly so at times), and not afraid of new experiences and challenges. So in some ways, I very much want to be the same girl.

Regardless, I was not prepared for my Back to the Future moment. Can anyone relate?

My last post was me venting and whining, two things I do pretty well, if I do say so myself.  So, I’m assuming everyone has been breathlessly waiting to see if I recovered from my serious illness (a cold).  Whatever it is that I have, it’s been going around here like wildfire, and it’s been keeping people down for weeks.  Well, I got righteously angry about being sick again for such a long time, so I decided to go old-school Adventist on this one.  I’m certain there are only a brief number of you reading this who will understand what I mean, but here’s what I did.  I completely cut sugar out of my diet.  I drank only water and orange juice.  I doubled up on my vitamins and then I slept.  I mean, for three days I’ve been in bed.  And that stinks, because I’ve had to ask many people for help, which is embarrassing and humiliating, but I knew that, unless I wanted to be sick for weeks, this is what I had to do.  I remember being told a long time ago by a wise Adventist doctor that your body could either repair your illness or repair any strain you put on your body during the day, so unless you rest, you will draw your sickness out for a longer period of time.

So this is the end of day three, and I feel so much better!  And remember, I have the immune system the size of a pea.  I’m certain there are doubters out there, but should you feel that cold coming on, you should try this!

Now, on to more important things.  How do I break Callie Grace from the idea that to wipe her runny nose, she just picks the nearest person to her and uses their pants/shirt/jacket/scarf/etc.?  Not that it’s not hilarious and cute, in a gross, I have snot on my clothes way, but I can’t let it continue.

And, due to my self-imposed confinement to bed, the nativity scene is in utter chaos.

Before I end this, I should add that none of what I said above could have been done without a husband who is so incredibly kind and thoughtful that he would do anything to make me feel better.

I”m going to vent,  maybe even whine a little, so for those who are annoyed by either of these, I understand if you want to stop reading here.

You know how you can trick yourself for awhile, absolutely deny in your mind that something is happening, deciding at the last minute to be a disciple of the mind over matter movement?  But eventually you have to look your sad, sad self in the mirror and admit it.

I’m sick.  Again!  Now for most people this is no big deal, you rest, you give it a few days, you drink hot chocolate with marshmellows in it and catch up on the latest Lifetime movies.  But for me, it’s so much more than that for so many reasons.  It’s not like I’m deathly sick or anything, it’s most likely what’s making it’s way through Evergreen, a bad head cold turning into a chest cold.  But I have two very active babies.  I have a husband who has endured more of his wife being ill than truly should be allowed, I have friends who have too many times had to come and take care of me/the kids/the laundry etc. and I’m so tired of it all!  Even for a bad cold, it feels like the last straw!  Why, oh why do I have to have an immune system of a 70 year old?

Through this God keeps poking into my thoughts with his comforting words.  He knew this day would come, He ordained this day, and this day and the next few miserable ones will work together for my good, to make me more Christlike, which obviously I need since Christ I’m certain never vented or whined.

So for tonight, I sit here with my mountain of tissues that end up all in the bed, much to the quiet frustration of my lovely husband, I have romance novels to read sitting next to my Bonhoeffer biography I’m in the middle of ( I know, I”m a strange girl, we’re well past that).  but I do ask, please, for prayers.  And I know I have it easy, I do, I know there are people suffering beyond what my mind can imagine.  I’d be foolish to forget that, but still, pray for this sad looking, red-nosed, eye-watering, throat hurting little whiner, if you can.

As I reflect over my birthday weekend (really, it’s my birthday month, and those who know me, know I’m sorta serious about this), it was one of the best.  And by many people’s standards, it probably would have seemed boring.  Philip and I, after my Bible study, set off for Panera Bread.  But first let me tell you something crazy.  As you know, we are living, happily, on a pastor’s salary.  An associate pastor’s salary.  An associate pastor’s salary  who is still in school and has two children and wife addicted to books.  So before we set off, I persuade Philip to check the mail, as I’m certain there will be some random check in there.   And there was!  We were due back 64 dollars for something, and it showed up on Friday!  So that was the beginning.  We ate at Panera Bread.  We went to Barnes and Noble where I bought 3 books, we went to Hobby Lobby where I bought some Christmas decorations.  We stopped at Krispy Creme and got some donuts to take home.  The. Perfect. Day.

And then this evening, a group from a local college came and played at the church as we had the Lord’s Supper.  It was incredible!  I wish so much that we had a higher attendance here for those things, they are often so moving.  It was a perfect ending to my birthday.  And then (Jen, pay close attention) our head pastor casually mentions that he worked with Caedmon’s Call.  Caedmon’s Call!!!  My favorite band ever.  I was so bubbling over with excitement, I’m sure he thought I’d celebrated a little too much for my birthday, but he just kept casually mentioning them by name.  Like he knows them.  Because he does!

That’s like someone casually mentioning to me that they read Deitrich Bonhoeffer, which, by the way, also happened today in Sunday school!  I tell you, it is a season of miracles!

Before I end, let me say quickly that I am content, more than content, ecstatic about where the Lord has us.  I want for no thing.  I have no need for fancy stuff, and the fact that we got a check for 64 dollars and used that on my birthday, (using Philip’s handy calculator on his phone to keep track) made it all the more fun.  And the great thing about being content with what you have is that you can honestly rejoice in another person’s fortune and riches, with no envy.  Now that, my friends, is indeed a great birthday present.

Oh, I also got a gift card for Starbucks and Barnes and Noble.  Score!