Above the stream

Below the surface, the current in the stream is strong. Its rushing waters are quiet as we bustle along. Without too much thought or effort, we float forward and all that we feel sure of is the strength of the current and our place in the water. The boundaries of the stream limit our sight. The water occupies everything.

Just above the stream, a whole world teems with life. The rocks and stones stand with a stability and strength enough to resist the current’s pull. The trees that shade the stream look from above with the wisdom of long-practiced perspective. The skies overhead glow with warmth and promise.

To step out of the stream is risky. It requires trust that there is more than what the waters will allow you to see. It holds over me all the reasons to stay in the familiar: the habit of following along, the power of the current, the fear of suffocation, the complacency with a “fine” life, the perceived protection of a predetermined trajectory. Continue reading

Personal Training for the New Year

“With the coming of the end, a great bustle and business begins to shake the nations of the world. The time of the end is the time of the massed armies, ‘wars and rumors of war,’ of huge crowds moving this way and that, of men ‘withering away for fear,’ of flaming cities and sinking fleets, of smoking lands laid waste, of technicians planning grandiose acts of destruction. The time of the end is the time of the Crowd: and the eschatological message is spoken in a world where, precisely because of the vast indefinite roar of armies on the move and the restlessness of turbulent mobs, the message can be heard only with difficulty…

To leave the city of death and imprisonment is surely not bad news except to those who have so identified themselves with their captivity that they can conceive no other reality and no other condition. In such a case, there is nothing but tribulation: for while to stay in captivity is tragic, to break away from it is unthinkable – and so more tragic still.

What is needed then is the grace and courage to see that ‘the Great Tribulation’ and ‘the Great Joy’ are really inseparable, and that the ‘Tribulation’ becomes ‘Joy’ when it is seen as the victory of life over death…

It is not the last gasp of exhausted possibilities but the first taste of all that is beyond conceiving as actual.”

~Thomas Merton, Raids on the Unspeakable..excerpt found in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas

As Thomas Merton writes, Jesus was born in a stable away from the world that crowded together for the census. Away from the machines of individualism, consumption, and fear, I seek to walk farther out to the fields so that I can be one of those who receives the good news of new life born in the most unlikely places. The magnetism to the world’s highest esteemed products – success and happiness – is strong. In this new year, may I work on my own personal training – strengthening my muscles to break away as I practice… Continue reading

SURPRISE

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

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

the baby is out. the belly is empty.

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

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

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

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

Mornings: Speeding Up and Slowing Down

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

Fragility, Fear, Gratitude

Coming back in my office, I listened to the voicemail from daycare – “James had an accident… he’s ok, but…” The world stands still. The awareness that my son had been hurt, had experienced pain, had cried out and I had been elsewhere – unable to hug, comfort, and wipe tears.

It ended up being nothing too bad, but I was aware that with the smallest change in the accident, it would have been everything. One inch higher and it would have scratched the eyeball – it could have meant loss of sight, loss of parental peace and confidence, loss of life as we know it.

Driving to pick him up that afternoon, I entered that space – the space where life stands still. It is the frightening space where the Fragility of life rears its ugly head and demands that you pay attention. It’s as if you realize Fragility has been living in your house and you didn’t even see it. Continue reading

pause.give.thanks

the practice of paying attention

Perspective