pausing.giving.thanks for 2013

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the joy of discovering the world and all its beauty
tip-toeing into life as a “big boy” with his own bed in his new room
the circle of light at house party with our juniors and seniors…the bittersweet moment of endings.
BIG foot. in my ribs.
these two. and my robe that can fit a 39 week belly.
first moments in this outside world…soaking in all the beauty and wonder of a new Harston boy for us to love, nurture, and celebrate
the creative ways the oldest let it be known that he needed attention once baby brother came home. his early favorite = tantrums while brother was being fed
the oldest’s favorite spot for several months…with hand stuck out underneath the door in an attempt to get closer to the action outside
the way our littlest loves to hold on to stuffed animals…as if he somehow knows the greatest comfort comes from the love of friends
those early months with a newborn…the adventures of the double-stroller, picky toddler, sleeping newborn, and tired mommy.
those TOES.
our little OCD organizer
annual picture with Walter. grateful for the many voices that challenge and inspire and comfort me.
first ice cream cone. “its COLD. its COLD.”
as a youth expressed in a late-night devotion on our mission trip, my job is that I get to sharpen the pencils that will go on to color a bright beautiful world.
the greatest medicine around = rocking chairs at the mountain house in North Carolina. guaranteed to soothe this road-weary heart.
sunday afternoon. monster trucks. boys will be boys.
the small things.
RIP 1997 expedition. hello enclave.
this sacred place that continues to be part of my life – where everything comes into focus.
10th year together. college, real life, grad school, residency, parenting. grateful beyond measure of this guy.
lightening mcqueen. everywhere.
the definition of “precious moment”…Collier with Greta, his birth-date friend.
birthday with besties from church.
a staff that serves as mentors, peers, friends, and family along this road.
not even a case of pink-eye while leading can ruin a weekend with them
ministry and motherhood…learning my way.
THIS. love him.
the light of Christmas twinkling in the boys’ eyes.
sermon writing on the fronts of bulletins and the backs of reports from day-care.
standing. all.the.time.
THIS. love this boy, too.
this Christmas where he constantly asked, “where’s more presents?” new years resolution: be grateful for what you have.
the beauty of family entertaining our oldest when all the patience has been spent.
pausing amidst the chaos so that the photo can keep us still and grateful for another Christmas together

 

giving thanks for the year of…

….NETFLIX amidst all the night-time feedings with Coach & Tami Taylor and Tim Riggins, Anna & Mr. Bates, Olivia Pope, Miss Claudette & Red

….the joy and pain of brothers Nathan & Tom, the bravery of Tori amidst the strong waves, the ignorance but rawness of Cheryl’s lonely hike, the writing of Andrew that has compelled me to be a local theologian in my own time and space, the beauty of Barbara that soothes the soul, the power of Leymah who has had enough of the terror of the world, the refreshing raw voice of Nadia who knows how to keep God real and authentic amongst us

…another summer touching Miami with Love

…another year of the opportunity to articulate where God is living and moving amidst the beautiful congregation of Highland

…the voices that call me away from my computer to get up and nurture and play.

SURPRISE

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We rehearsed it as we went from house to house. “Merry Christmas,” we would practice. By the time we got to the next one, the anticipation of ringing the doorbell was too much and the words would fail him. He would just stick out his hand holding the bag of gingerbread to give to our neighbor.  Despite our rehearsals and our plans, our three year old is our wild card.  Our surprise.

I love the intentional time this season gives to shower those around us with love. The gifts thoughtfully purchased and delicately wrapped. The stove watched over as the gingerbread loaves reach completion to show love to neighbors. The decorations hung around the house to usher in the joy of the season.

The list that once caused me anxiety now gives me a sense of relief as each item is crossed off in completion

Now comes the real Christmas. Continue reading

The Christmas Alarm

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A new frame holds an old picture on my chest of drawers. Smiles beam on their young faces. Oldest has his arms wrapped around mother and father. Youngest holds on tight to mother. Mother and daughter’s hands intertwined. The photo speaks of promise and hope. Dreams and the unknown.

TIME rushes like a racing train through a tunnel as the voice of my youngest pierces the silence. I am no longer the young daughter clinging tightly to my mother. I am now the mother.

How is it that TIME can suddenly go off like an alarm – causing me to sit up and in the haze of sleepiness, wonder where I am and how I got here? Continue reading

Into the EMPTINESS the Angel Speaks

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Pottery Barn catalogs pile up the stress as the Christmas gift list is still blank. The instagrammed Christmas tree selfies on my newsfeed create jealousy in me as our house is still tree-less. Five days into December and the days seem to be speeding by like a train on the tracks…if I slow down long enough to let my eyes follow one train car, I will feel the whiplash when I see that ten others pass within mere seconds.

In the silence of the morning, I wait. I wait for my mind to settle. I wait for Christmas to sink into this heart of mine.   I wait… only to realize that the void of the tangible Christmas items points out the void of the best of Christmas’ intangible gifts…the coziness of a decorated home, the peace of lingering conversation, the magic of the gifting season.

The void echoes and calls out to be filled. Continue reading

the baby is out. the belly is empty.

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Scanning the piles of winter clothes still not given their proper place in my closet, I stand in frustration as I try to pick out the clothes for the day.  Squeals begin over the monitor from my six-month-old whose hunger demands my presence.  It is another morning in which I must find the right loose-fitting top that covers up the belly that remains from pregnancy.

I am blessed to have been able to carry two children in pregnancy and to have access to medical professionals who delivered them safely via caesarean section. My children are the ultimate source of joy and gratitude, AND YET how is it that I look at my belly with contempt now that it is empty? Continue reading

The White Bags and the Ones that Hold Them

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They were everywhere.  Some were held tightly to the chest as if the heart needed it close by.  Some were laying on the ground as if they were too heavy to hold. Mine was in the chair next to me.  The white plastic bag held my husband’s blue pajama pants I gave him a few Christmases ago and his Wake Forest sweatshirt.

They had been stuffed in the bag as he put on the surgical gown for his emergency appendectomy.  All that he came into the hospital with was now in that white bag.  My mind wandered past the front desk, down the hall, through the secured doors, and into the operating room where he lay on the surgical table.  A doctor himself, he was not the healer in this moment.  He was the one being healed.  And all I had of him was stuffed in a white plastic bag. Continue reading

To Know the Heart of a C-Section

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Machines beeped as the straps monitored the baby squirming around in my belly.  Little room left, we were only hours away from meeting him for the first time.  We settled in for the long labor ahead… a book in my dad’s hands, needlepointing in my mother’s hands, and an iPhone in Drew’s hands. I leaned back and closed my eyes.  Unable to take in all the anticipation, I tried to quiet my mind but I couldn’t help but wonder about the pain and ecstasy of bringing this baby into the world.

Breaking the silence, the nurses came flooding in.  Drew stood to read the monitors and my parents emptied their hands as the nurses acted.  They were quick, calm, but anxious – turning me on my side and placing the oxygen mask on my mouth.  “The baby’s heart-rate is too low – he can’t handle these long contractions.”  A needle stuck in my side aided in returning his heart-rate to normal but the words “you will probably need a c-section” lingered in the air. Continue reading

I will trust. I will rest and I will be free.

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One foot in front of the other, I ran.  Music setting my pace, energy burst within me as I left behind a house with sleeping boys and a husband on-call but finally at home.  The sun was blinding as it began its descent. Stepping over roots on the trail, I launched forward.

With each step, I unwound from the day.  Saturdays used to mean sleeping late and trips out to breakfast.  They meant home projects and time on the couch.  Now with two young boys and a husband in orthopedic residency, Saturdays often mean rising early, changing diapers, negotiating screen time, cutting peels off of apples, and reaching the limits of my patience. Continue reading

Friendship: the Worship of Our Very Lives

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On our way to our table for three, we have already begun our worship.  We open the menus and we begin with praise – sharing stories from the latest happenings from the day or tales of the latest mishaps in ministry.  We laugh and we nod in understanding.  We order our drinks, place our lunch orders, turn in the menus, and move into confession.

Taking turns, we look to one another and ask – “So, how are you doing?”  If the first attempt does not open the floodgate, we entertain the response and then prod further with another, “how are you really doing?”  Slowly and carefully, one will unpack the latest stresses, fears, and wonders of our lives.  The two listening will lean in and remain quiet.  Nodding their heads, they hold the words and feelings gently.

Avoiding the traps of advice or dismissal or belittling, we move into proclamation.  We seek to shed light on the darkness of our confessions.  We try to drain the power of the gremlins that too often rule our thoughts.  We ask questions.  We look for where hope is growing.  We hold in our hands the grief of one another.  We mourn our inability to grant another’s dream or fix another’s brokenness.  When we cannot find the words, we just sigh. Continue reading

Mornings: Speeding Up and Slowing Down

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Mornings are chaos.  As a working mom with two young kids married to an orthopedic resident whose gone way before my alarm goes off, mornings require me to muster all the brain-power, patience, and parenting power I have within me to get out the door.  By the time I get both boys fed, dressed, in the car, out of the car, and get the oldest to his classroom, I feel like high-fives and exploding confetti would be appropriate for my accomplishment.

As I walk the youngest into the infant room, my pace slows and my heart gets heavier.  No longer speeding up, I slow down. I slowly unbuckle him from his car seat and take off his blanket, hat, and pacifier clip.  I pick him up and hold him close for one second more.  Cheek-to-cheek, I breathe in that sweet baby smell, I squeeze him close, and whisper “I love you” one last time.

I love my job and I feel great calling and purpose in what I do.  But that moment with my youngest in my arms is one of the hardest moments every day. Continue reading