Author Archives: Lisa Lewton

A Christian Way to Talk About the World With Kids

Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com

Have you ever noticed how you talk about the world with kids? What age-old words or phrases do you let slip without realizing? Do you call the world “dangerous”? Or explain tragic events by concluding, “The world can be a terrible place,” or, “There are bad people in the world.”

I also wonder how you refer to decision-makers. Are all politicians awful? And lawmakers corrupt? How do your own headlines and editorials shape the way kids around you understand the function of the government?

As any teacher will tell you, kids speak of the world with the narrative they learn at home. Your family’s unique language is their first tongue to articulate an understanding of the world around them. If at home you speak of a corrupt government, your child will do the same at school. If all politicians are distrustful as you process the news at home, distrust may plant a seed that will later blossom into endless conspiracy theories.

The Buddhist are perhaps the first to point out that humankind is aptly named. Our early orientation toward strangers is most often kindness. If you smile at a toddler, that child will naturally smile back. It happens every Sunday during the sermon when people sitting near a baby will hear almost none of the sermon due to the steady, heartwarming exchange of glowing smiles.

We live in a time in the United States when deeply-rooted conspiracy theories are shaping events and nurturing distrust. In my corner of the world, generations-old distrust of the government has placed a filter over information related to the pandemic. And that makes me wonder about younger generations that continue to learn distrust as a first language. I suspect conspiracy theory is handed down and learned at home.

All that is to say, what might be the Christian way to talk about the world with kids, particularly at home. Here a few ideas:

  • Do not avoid the words “I don’t know.” We are inundated with both true and false information and we do not always know the difference. A shrug of the shoulders prevents us from thinking we are always right.
  • Check out the Bible. It blows my mind whenever I read Old Testament stories of how God used “the bad guy” to deliver his word. Jonah was sent into “enemy territory.” Jesus befriended the wrong “political parties.” The fall of the Berlin wall is a good illustration of how God responded to separating humans based on political allegiance.
  • Start a conversation. Ask kids, “How is God in the world right now?” As we watch the terror unfold in Afghanistan, how is God with the people? What does God need from us to care for the strangers we see in the news? Even a prayer for people far away makes us more than strangers. Also, asking kids a question reminds us that they know far more than we assume!
  • Scan yourself for anger. Anger can be productive, but it can also be wildly unproductive. If your anger makes you feel self-righteous, keep that in check. Your kids may learn to be angry with people only because they think differently than they do. Warning: Self-righteous kids are the most annoying friends in high school and college. Try to avoid raising those.
  • Remind kids a basic tenet of the Christian faith. Our faith does not put our absolute trust in a human leader, but only in our Lord. Only God deserves our total allegiance. Only God will save us. Only God will lead us through this life into the next one. Human leaders cannot promise salvation, so if you sense yourself buying into such a promise, back up a bit.

While it is a challenging time to raise kids, it is an excellent time to be in conversation with them. We all need help processing what we see in the news. It is easy to avoid, but we need to talk about why there are people who drive around our neighborhood with flags in their pick-up trucks for my 9-year old to read F— Biden. I wonder why that person feels so strongly? I don’t know, but I’m sure there is a reason. He/she is a child of God, too.

Waiting For School, Waiting For Cooler Weather, Waiting For Supper

(Photo by Chad Stembridge on Unsplash)

Waiting for the laundry to finish, waiting for mom to buy more granola bars. Waiting for the cookie jar to refill itself, waiting for that device to charge. Waiting for the eggs to cook, waiting for kids to stop bickering. Waiting for the movie to begin, waiting for tomatoes to ripen.

I am impatiently waiting for the tomatoes! So many tomatoes in my backyard. Any moment now, I’m sure, they will show their true colors: red, purple, and yellow. Then I will smile a loving smile and make a BLT.

Impatiently is one way to wait. I can watch tomatoes impatiently and water them impatiently. Waiting impatiently is a sure formula to miss the details. If I am too impatient, I won’t notice the earthy smell of the leaves that have been working hard for months to grow. I won’t notice that sneaky orange cherry tomato I overlooked earlier. I won’t notice how wild it truly is that our food comes from tiny seeds!

Waiting impatiently mutes the wonder. It hurries us through the minute, the hour, the day, the lifetime. Wait impatiently and your frustration might get the best of you. Wait with wonder and your senses might perk up.

In these weeks of prelude to the school year, I am waiting for kitchen counters to stay clean all day long, and for someone else to make their lunch. I am waiting for the return of the beloved routine, and for kids to enter new challenges.

I will take another stroll by the yet-to-ripen tomatoes to avoid becoming too impatient in my waiting. They may remind me that suddenly they will be big and ready to leave the vine. I may never get such a privileged close-up view of their growing up. Every moment I’ve been waiting, they’ve been transforming. And I tell them as I wait and wait, that they are the most wondrous tomatoes I have ever laid eyes on.

The Magic of the 20-Second Hug

When I was a little girl, I had a persistent light cough that was attributed to dust. Among the many tactics we tried to eliminate allergens in our house to limit the coughing was a mostly strict ban on stuffed animals. Only my two plush puppies, Rover and Scrappy, survived the ban.

While no allergy is ideal, this one had its perks. No stuffed animals were allowed to move in. Meaning, my mom could say no to any and every such request.

Thirty-years later, my mom says yes to every such request from her granddaughter, which is how I ended up with a giant, red, heart pillow with the words “100% Huggable” from a garage sale last week. Where, I ask you, does one put a giant, red, heart pillow with the words “100% Huggable” in one’s home? Oy vey.

While the pillow is not my favorite, it is cool because my daughter picked it out for me, and because the words have a ring to them. I recently learned of the 20-second hug. Perhaps I read it somewhere or caught it in a podcast. Simply put, hugging your partner for at least 20 seconds (in one continuous hug) is magical. Consider. You cannot naturally hug someone you are annoyed by for 20 seconds. Eventually in those 20 seconds, you probably decide he/she is not so bad after all.

Please test the theory and if it doesn’t work for you, I have a pillow that could be your consolation prize.

In Case You Are New Here…

(Click here to order)

If you recently found my blog, welcome! It is exciting to me that you clicked your way here. Let me tell you what you need to know.

  1. I am a full-time pastor in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). While writing is one of my loves, my main gig is serving St. John Evangelical Lutheran Church in Dickinson, N.D. You will see a new blogpost about once a week.
  2. You can subscribe to my blog and be among the first to read my latest posts. On the right (if you are on the homepage), type your email and hit the SUBSCRIBE button. A monthly Sabbath Moments newsletter will also hit your inbox, with an exclusive blogpost and extra photos, and encouraging words as we follow Jesus together.
  3. I post two-three memes weekly on Facebook and Instagram. To follow me on Facebook, search for @lewtonwriter, and on Instagram, @lisa.lewton. You will know you are in the right place if my book is the profile picture.
  4. Thank you to Kaylee Garling for her article in the August Heart River Voice publication! You can read our conversation inspired by my book. On the next page, you can also read a review of the book written by my friend and fellow voracious reader, Audrey McMacken.

Peace be with you through the ordinary days, as we start over again and again firmly in the grip of Christ’s mercy.

Sabbatical Last Corner

(Rounding a curve on a walk near Wisconsin Dells,
where my family vacationed last week.)

Here it is! The final day of sabbatical before re-entering congregational life. These past three months have been, as I have told you so many times, a gracious gift to my family and to me. What I haven’t made clear is how a sabbatical is a gracious gift to a congregation as well.

The last corner of a sabbatical begins tomorrow when I open the door to my cozy office for the first time in 12 weeks, set the books I read on their shelves, find a home for a new little sign I found in a thrift store, and finally, encounter people’s faces.

I have missed the staff at St. John and I have missed my worshipping community. In our time apart, so much has happened! The staff did their work week after week without me. What inside jokes did I miss? What went right/wrong that now makes for a great story? Who bought them coffee while I was away? (I sure hope someone did that!)

And what was worship like Sunday after Sunday? How did Jesus show up in the lives of the people in the pews and on Facebook and on the other side of the radio broadcast? They heard a faithful and creative line-up of preachers. And I missed the funerals of beloved members of our community. What else did I miss? And what did the congregation miss from me as I took a deep sabbatical breath and wasted so much time with Jesus? They will hear those stories from the pulpit. Hearing their stories is the trickier business.

Story-swapping is the last curve on the sabbatical trail. In the stories, we will hear what Jesus has been up to in our lives and in our community of faith. Those stories will shape the next leg of our journey together. Will my realization that I don’t take enough time to pray and reflect impact our community? What difference might my ponderings around worship, after worshipping in many communities in-person and mostly online, make in the one hour people are most likely to gather as members of the body of Christ at St. John?

The answers, I hope, will be found in our story-swapping conversations. So be ready, folks at St. John, to tell me what I missed, what you noticed, what you now ponder, too. And Jesus will meet us there.

Sabbatical

(Photo by Raúl Nájera on Unsplash)

A few pages back on the calendar, two things happened. I began my sabbatical and we entered road construction season! Near my house, a significant project continues where crews have been sweating it out week after week. Thanks be to God for people who make it possible to get from here to there.

The conclusion of the project near my house will be most welcomed by everyone. For workers, an end to the sun brutally beating down on them throughout this inordinately sweltering summer. For businesses nearby, easier access for customers. For moms, no more worry that kind-looking SLOW/STOP sign-holders are judging how often they drive by (sports practices, the pool, camps, coffee dates, repeat).

None of us will freely admit that sometime “down the road” in the future, we will do this all over again. No road is fixed forever! Roads, like people, require a substantial amount of regular maintenance to smooth things out. We never leave behind all the bumps. Always they exist, most noticeable when they rise to the surface, next to the patched-up cracks.

I am a couple of weeks away from my last day of sabbatical, which will happen before the end of the construction project is celebrated. Before the road is ready and perhaps before I am ready, I will enter the church building for the very first time in three months. (Such a sabbatical, by the way, is made possible by extraordinary ordained and lay staff and an encouraging Council. Thank you, Jesus, for every one of these people.)

These months have set me firmly in the slow lane. I have learned to look around and notice people, such as the people who live in the same house as me. I know them so much better now. I even talk more slowly most of the time. I learned to rest more, ask for help (that’s a fib, I didn’t learn that, I just wish I did), and to take time to write.

I like the slow lane. It’s quieter here and I don’t spend so much time worrying about running out of time.

It will take a few days or more, but I will merge back into the faster lane, even as I miss the slow lane. There is just as much to see in any lane you choose. What I learned in the slow lane will not be easily lost. I am too grateful.

So, down the road when the bumps present themselves, when cracks need patching, I can remember there is always a slow lane. It is open for any day trip, hour trip, minute trip to remember that we, like any road under our wheels, are never fixed forever. We wish repairs would happen faster and maintenance wouldn’t be so much work. But being human does require slow lanes, along with Jesus’ merciful maintenance of the bumps, and entire seasons of constructing self-compassion around the cracks. And somehow, that is enough to move you from one day to the next, from here to there.

Blessed Are the Curious Children, for They May Properly Embarrass the Grown-Ups

(After a bike ride to the public library)

You have one or have met one: The child who simply oozes with questions.

If my daughter were a Nerf Dart Gun, she would fire continuously. Some darts might be soft and painless while others would be oversized and spikey. And you would never know which dart was about to fire until it hits. She once asked a woman in public whether she was a boy or girl. She has asked two people who happen to be standing next to each other whether they might get married. And of course, the usual array of uncomfortable questions: how much a person paid for a house, how much money a person makes, why a single person isn’t married, when the newly married person will have a baby, and on and on, painting my face a deeper shade of red with each and every dart.

It is in a child’s job description to embarrass parents. That way, when the child grows to be a teenager it all evens out. Any embarrassment a teenager laments is simply returning the favor.

For most parents, we deal with moments of curiosity-induced embarrassment understanding this is how kids make sense of the world. They ask their way into the moment. They wildly wonder out loud.

Today’s Nerf Dart came in the form of: “Mom, why did dad marry you?”

This is a dart I had not seen before. I’m not sure I’d ever pondered the question! Why did he marry me 20 years ago? I had no answer. “Because we were young and didn’t really know anything” didn’t seem the appropriate response! She’ll have to ask her dad.

Isn’t it crazy that a 9-year old can pose brand new questions to a 43-year old? Age might invite wisdom, but adding years is not exclusively the formula to becoming wiser. Curiosity does that. Even if the curiosity makes you blush in front of strangers and friends! If nothing else, those who are curious are contagious with wonder and wonder might call us to see one another in a new way.

I hope to overhear my husband’s response to today’s question. It makes me curious. Perhaps I might ask it myself.

DELETED BOOK CHAPTER: Shoes

(Photo by Tamas Pap on Unsplash)

The book I wrote is a mere 1/4 inch tall when it lounges on its back. I kept it brief in order to be more accessible to women whose lives leave little margin to pick up a book. In the year it took to write all the words, with my audience in mind I may have deleted as many words as I kept. One chapter I nixed had to do with shoes.

Before exiting the hospital with a baby, I had no idea the plethora of pairs of shoes required per set of growing feet per year. Soft-sole shoes for learning how to walk. Hard-sole shoes for walking outside. Shoes for soccer, baseball, basketball, gym, and dance. Boots for hunting. Boots for winter. Shoes for running. Sandals for summer. Shoes for church and other such occasions that require looking spiffy. I can NOT remember needing so many pairs of shoes when I was growing up! Perhaps feet have gotten needier?

Growing feet belong to growing bodies belong to human beings who are constantly changing…growing! And requiring shoes that fit their feet. A child puts on a pair of shoes and notices his toes are pinched. And finally, you rest your eyes on the teenage human with size 11 shoes who fits in the driver’s seat of the car where his giant feet push actual pedals!

Each time the shoe size increases, so does all the stuff they can do in those shoes. Drive a car. Walk into high school, college, a job. Judging from the growth of their shoes alone, kids experience a steady and astonishing stream of change. Just when their shoes get broken in and comfortable, they are suddenly too small.

“It’s okay,” loving adults around them say with words and sometimes cookies and also hugs (whenever allowed). “No matter what changes you are still you. You are so loved in each and every shoe size. You are a wonder in that growing body God made. You are expensive, you shoe wearer-outer and out-grower! Even so, you will never outgrow God’s love, wrapped more tightly around you than a too-small shoe. Which…I can see you have going on there.”

Messy Make You Awesome

(Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash)

Oh, how I would love to open my kitchen cabinet doors to discover a gleaming oasis of organization. Instead of moving mixing bowls to get to a serving bowl, all bowls would be equally accessible. Some people’s dreams are inspired by dramatic home renovations on HGTV. I simply long for less crashing when I reach for a bowl.

Until the day arrives when only my husband and I open the kitchen cabinets, the crashing will persist. There is no possibility of an oasis for now. Like the lives we live, the cabinets will be messy, imperfect, oasis-less.

I have rounded the corner to the last third of my congregation’s gift of a sabbatical. The abundance of time I have to hang out with Jesus in prayer, to say yes to late night conversations with kiddos and my husband, and to Uber my kids here there and everywhere will shift in a month.

In my morning devotions, a question posed was whether I carry around heavy burdens from my past. Whether old sins linger and weigh on my shoulders. For me, it is the little things that snowball into a heavy burden. It is the everyday obnoxious, pestering questions:

Did I do enough for my family? For the church?

Whom did I disappoint?

Why did I say that?

Why didn’t I say that?

Could I have done that better?

Those are the pesky questions that keep me up at night and scratch at my soul, more than heavy burdens from my past.

And so, when I opened the kitchen cabinet and moved three things to get to a bowl this morning, I wondered if God was reminding me there is no oasis here. No organization or perfection to simplify life. As long as your heart is involved and your daily work (at home or anywhere) involves leading with your heart, you are in for messy cabinets, messy calendars, messy moments, messy sleep schedules. As long as you deeply care for people, do not expect perfection in your pantry.

This is why I wrote myself a note today. While the previous paragraph makes complete sense to me right now, in a couple of months when the messy cabinets are messier and I long for more time just to sit with Jesus, I will need a reminder. I will need a reminder that life with people involved is like needing the bowl that happens to be tucked into the corner, behind three other things. Always there is reaching and crashing. Remember, the note will nudge me, messy cabinets accompany life. The reaching, perhaps, could sound like Jesus’ reaching for me when I get stuck in the pestering questions. The crashing, perhaps, could sound like the slippery waters of baptism protecting me from the sticky burden of worrying whether I have done enough, or whether I am enough.

The moral of the story: If your cabinets are messy, you are awesome. Or more importantly, you are enough. And that is awesome.

Thanks for the Who

(Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash)

In the book, Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, authors Amelia and Emily Nagoski suggest two lovely gratitude practices.

  1. WHO: Give thanks for someone(s) in your life.
  2. WHAT HAPPENED: Give thanks for something that happened that day.

These two practices are inspiring and avoid an icky result of most gratitude practices. Giving thanks for a who and a what happened prevents us from giving thanks for things. Giving thanks for things leads us to be thankful that we have things. Then we notice people in the world who don’t have things, which leads us to feel guilty that we do have things while others don’t. And gratitude becomes an exercise in guilt.

I am excited to practice giving thanks for some of those who are who in my kids’ lives. (You made it to the end of that weird sentence. Good for you.)

*Thank you, Lord, for Driver’s Ed instructors. What were they thinking? Keep them safe.

*Thank you, Lord, for coaches who set aside a ginormous amount of time for an often thankless job. Keep them sane.

*Thank you, Lord, for grandparents. May the trade-off of too-much sugar for so-much sweet grandparent love all work out in the end. Keep them smiling.

*Thank you, Lord, for gracious strangers who reveal comforting kindness at just the right moment, such as when a kid on a bike needs to cross a busy street. Keep them plentiful.

*Thank you, Lord, for the moms who are absolutely real when my kids come over to hang out. For the way they feed my kids with food, hospitality and an honest glimpse at the truth that all our homes are often hot messes. Keep them real.

*Thank you, Lord, for Faith Formation Directors (Christina Jorgensen) who mail my kid a cute card after an amazing week at Bible Camp, who promise that faith in Jesus is cool both at camp and everywhere else. Keep them in that particular job for a very long time. Please.

Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

The End.