A Parent’s Practice of Holding On & Letting Go: Part One

Parents can pack a lot into a life: sign kids up for activities, drive them around to travel sports, desperately squeeze in family dinners, arrange the play dates, teach them how to do this and that. And finally, host the graduation open house.

It happened.

High School graduation is a new milestone in our family. Our first born graduated early in his rush to be an adult. Following his lead, we hosted a very small open house in our living room, enjoyed his favorite foods, walked back in time through the baby books, and marveled at the man in his senior pictures.

An open house is like hitting a pause button, instructing the graduate to wait here for a moment to let it all sink in.

Milestones offer space to reminisce. “Remember that sleepover when you turned six, and I let you invite six little boys because I didn’t know any better?” “Remember your K-5th grade teachers?” “Remember when you tried that sport?” “Wait here while we remember.”

Of course, we can only wait here for so long. We hold onto those old stories like a hot potato knowing eventually we need to let them go, both the stories and the boy.

I’ve learned more than I could imagine in these days since his open house. I now know this is an exhausting milestone! I am weepier and wearier than I expected to be, more uncertain of how long this particular grieving process will take. Whenever we let go of something familiar or significant, this is called grieving. Grieving is the practice of letting go and holding on, it is something parents must do on the regular: letting go of the boy and holding onto God’s promise that God goes with the boy from here.

Meanwhile, God sticks around to hang out with the weepy woman. God has seen this episode before and knows when to hand her a tissue. And therein lies the promise. Throughout our lives, we humans get a great deal of practice letting go, while God does the hanging on.

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Coming Soon: A Parent’s Practice of Holding On & Go

Something quite usual will happen in a few months. Kids will graduate from high school! Although this happens each year, for some of us this milestone is a first.

It is our oldest ordering a graduation gown and mailing announcements. For the first time, we’ve made room on the wall for the senior photo, the one his future family may look at one day and say, “Wow, you were young once!”

Yep. He was young once.

My son hustled through high school when he realized he could earn an income more quickly if he graduated early. So, he did. It’s done. He is a 2024 graduate! If you are a subscriber, I’ll be sending you a newsletter with some super handsome senior pictures!

Milestones are meant to celebrate! They stir up in us a great big pot of feelings. There is gratitude and joy, lament and worry, regret and hope. I wonder if you might walk with me through this parenting season. This is a season of holding on and letting go.

Next week I’ll begin a three-week series to unpack some of these feelings, and to remember together that in the letting go we are free to love these young people like grown-up people.

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Sermons and Reels

Hanging out in front of the tv with my daughter last night, I watched what she likes to watch. Often it’s Mr. Beast on the screen, essentially a slightly awkward game show host who gives away exorbitant amounts of money. Or Hopescope, who tries out products she sees on social media.

Last night, she was watching video clips on Youtube called Youtube Shorts. This version of social media reels are, as the name implies, short, lasting 15-60 seconds. They feature ordinary people providing quick entertainment. One person impressively sang and played the piano. Another explained a video that had gone viral, posing as a news reporter. Someone else painted herself green and pretended to marry Duolingo.

The videos went by quickly, one after another after another. And I noticed this was not relaxing for me! There was no time to enjoy one video before the next one started up; no room to get to know the entertainer or appreciate the person’s talent. Perhaps my attention span is too long for Youtube Shorts? Who knows.

I’ve been pondering attention span since listening to an episode of The Ezra Klein show called “Tired, Distracted, Burned Out? Listen to This.” Parents in my generation were among the first to hand their kids a smartphone and then wonder what the heck just happened! It is now normal for a kid to carry around a smartphone by 6th grade. Like many parents, I quickly learned the content and restrictions, adding screen time and downtime limits. My kids signed a covenant before they could enter their first passcodes. I did my best with what I knew at the time.

And now I know I cannot sit through Youtube Shorts! But my kids sure can. The speed of the clips does not bother them like it bothers me. They adapt more quickly and maybe even process what they are seeing more quickly.

It’s important for parents to note that just because something is different and makes me feel slightly uncomfortable does not necessarily mean it is wrong. It’s not wrong that my kids adapt more quickly. This difference in processing does not mean my kids are doing something wrong because I grew up without the same technology.

It does mean that preachers like me need to wonder what will happen with sermons. Unlike 15-60 second clips, sermons are (among Lutherans) 12-15 minutes long, that’s 720-900 seconds.

My sermons are not entertaining like Youtube Shorts, nor are they meant to be. And the Lutheran church is not known for its entertaining light shows. Never has someone left a Lutheran worship service to say, “That was so entertaining.”

Worship, including preaching, is not intended to be entertainment for the consumer. Instead, it is meant to draw a person into a deeper trust in the God who calls us to share Christ’s love by serving our neighbor. To do that, sermons rely on words. Will words, even profound ones, be enough to engage a generation that processes technology incredibly fast?

It may be the first preacher to ask this question was reacting to the invention of the radio! This is not a new question for the church. For now, Youtube Shorts are not my favorite even though my kids enjoy them. I will keep discerning how to faithfully proclaim the ancient promise of God’s saving love in Christ to a people whose brains may be changing, but whose need of this good news is not.

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The Holy Spirit is Like a Toddler

If you have been in a room with a toddler for eight seconds, you have heard the words, “Watch me!” The toddler, amazed at every single thing he or she can do, is full of invitations.

“Watch me!” as I wiggle my fingers.

“Watch me!” as I pick up a spoon.

“Watch me!” as I attempt a failed but spirited somersault.

“Watch me!”

In exhaustion from all the watching, you turn away. It is a mere second but in that blink of an eye you miss it you. You miss the miraculous moment. Your center of attention shifts and you do not witness the hilarious attempt at gymnastics.

Life with a toddler means missing many of these moments. There is simply too much action to watch it all. With an abundance to do and scroll and text and engage online, we get caught in the world wide web of distraction.

The Holy Spirit is a like a toddler.

“Watch me!” the Spirit beckons, as it burrows about in our lives.

“Watch me!” the Spirit calls, as it points you in a faithful direction.

“Watch me!” the Spirit whispers, enfolding you with Christ’s love.

“Watch me!” the Spirit shouts to the church, while we are busy doing churchy things that have to do with budgets, buildings and volunteer management.

Blessedly, the Holy Spirit remains as persistent as the toddler. If you miss the first somersault, chances are you will see another one if you wait ten seconds. Miracles abound.

However, would you ponder what it is that shifts your attention from the Spirit’s work in your life? What distracts you? How might you pay better attention to your life with God? How might you actually focus when the Spirit bellows out, “Watch me!”

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Let My Prayer Rise Up

“Let my prayer be set forth as incense before thee; the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.”

Psalm 141:2 (English Revised Version)

It. Is. So. Cold outside!!!

I say this as a person who gets to experience the cold by looking out the window. For the most part, I am safely tucked in a house where the furnace works properly, and I have an excuse to wear pajamas and drink hot beverages all day!

Yesterday was Sunday, which did require non-pajama pants. I wondered out loud at the start of the 8:00 am service, “What are we doing here?” Those of us in the pews had gone in and out of -30 degree weather. “This sermon better be good,” I thought to myself as I prepared to preach. Surely I was not the only one.

This day dedicated to Martin Luther King, Jr. is wonderfully a no-school-for-students day at my kids’ school. Staff had to go out in the cold, but buses did not. No one trudged to a bus stop, no one sat behind the wheel opening and closing a door while trying not to run behind schedule. No crosswalk supervisor had to bundle up and keep traffic moving.

The cold is an equalizer. We are, each of us, vulnerable to its fearsome bite. Creatures of every kind need prayers of mercy in weather like this.

As I witness the exhaust emerge from the furnace pipe of our house, I am reminded to pray. Thank you, Lord, for the luxury of indoor heat. For the protection of insulation hiding within the walls. For hot coffee in the cup keeping my hands blessedly warm.

It is often the case that looking around the interior of our own lives leads to prayers of gratitude. Faith begins with a word of thanks. Thanking God for heat and all manner of daily bread. Thanking God for faith in a Savior whose death and resurrection checked “Get to Heaven” off my to-do list.

Gratitude, however, is not the intent. Living a grateful life may be popular, #blessed, but love for the neighbor is Jesus’ intent. How is your impoverished neighbor in this cold weather? How are those working in emergency management and human services in this cold weather?

Let those prayers rise up like incense.

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What Your Laundry is Telling You

Your laundry has something to tell you. And no, it has nothing to do with your favorite brand of detergent.

In 2014, Marie Kondo wrote “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.” That’s when I learned to fold clothes. Her method is truly magical and involves setting each article of clothing from socks to sweatshirts upright in drawers. Instead of laying clothing flat, allowing only the item on top to be seen, Kondo’s method enables all the clothing equal opportunity.

Her method is partly informed by her Japanese religion, Shintoism. In the Shinto religion, every physical item contains the sacred. As Kondo folds pajamas in the morning, for example, she thanks the pajamas for a good night’s rest, acknowledging the sacred woven into the fabric.

In the Christian faith, pajamas are pajamas, although a good night’s sleep is certainly sacred! And yet, Kondo’s practice might inspire us. Your laundry can tell you how to pray for your neighbor.

  • When I fold my pajamas (the Kondo way of course!), I thank God for warmth and rest, for a safe place to lay my head, for the luxury of shelter. I pray for my neighbors who slept outside without the protection of a roof and the extravagance of a pillow and clean sheets.
  • Folding towels reminds me to pray for my neighbor far away who will never experience a hot, soapy shower; women who would do anything to bathe their babies if only clean water was readily available.

You get the idea. All around you the Spirit is stirring up prayer cues. Listen to your laundry. You will get to know your neighbor, the one whom Jesus loves so much.

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The Best of the New Year is Old

Have you been lured by the promise of the quick fix? It’s that time of year! See if you relate to any of these:

  • If I follow that healthy food influencer and adopt that particular diet, surely I’ll eat healthier! (Here’s looking at you, Teri Turner from No Crumbs Left Behind.)
  • If I buy that lovely planner/use that fancy pen/become a boss at color coding, I will be organized every minute of every day of 2024!
  • If I download that money app, I am sure to save lots of money!

How do I fall for this every year? As though doing something new will automatically make life better? As though a quick fix ever lasts.

The reason it doesn’t work is because I am still the same person. I am inclined toward the cookies and not the carrots. I am organized much of the time but never 100% of the time. I mostly steward money wisely, but I veer off the designated road when Instagram has customized its every ad just for me!

So here it is, the unwelcomed news of the first day of this new year: The very best 2024 has to offer is nothing new!

Beneath the piles of quick fix promises is one old promise that never wears out. The shiny promises come and go, but this one remains: Jesus’ love is enough for you.

I know, so simple it’s boring. Not shiny or flashy; it won’t make you rich or skinny; you need not have your life together to receive it. Jesus’ love is enough.

Simeon comes to mind, the old guy in Luke’s gospel who waited for God to do something new to make life better. And Anna, the woman whose story is intertwined with his. She went to the temple every single day “with fasting and prayer” to hear a word from the Lord. These two were waiting for a new Word from God which was really the old promise from God. Jesus’ love was enough for these two who had waited a lifetime.

What does this old promise mean for you this new year?

  • God’s dream for you has nothing to do with how you look. Nothing at all. Any quick fix promise from a product you can buy invites some conversation with God. Why that product? What difference might it make if you buy it or don’t? Jesus’ love is enough.
  • Jesus does not love people based on body type. Your body is a uniquely made gift. Paul even calls it a temple! Be gentle on yourself. You are not expected to look like anyone but you.
  • Resolutions are meant to be helpful guides, maybe like road signs encouraging you to move toward well-being. They do not define you. When one flops, you can start over. The whole point is being well. Being super hard on yourself misses the point.

As new year, quick fix promises come and go, how might God’s old promise stay with you? Jesus’ love is enough for you all year long.

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The Story of the Christmas Cards

What do you do with Christmas cards after you pull them out of their cozy envelopes? Do you lay them in a basket on your table? Hang them up?

Early in our marriage, opening Christmas cards addressed to Mr. and Mrs. felt so very grown-up! The first couple of years, I kept each card in a photo album. Then I stopped. What would I do with all those albums?! Instead, I set the cards in a basket and then stored them away after Christmas, like time capsules.

These days, we hang the cards on a kitchen wall to savor. Later, they will enter the world of the recycling bin, but for now our friends and family hang out with us through Advent from the wall, their photos a collection of real-life stories intertwined with our own.

Christmas cards tell a story. The real story of life. The photos insist that amid the despair of real life, it is possible to lock eyes with a camera. It is possible, despite the real hardships of our lives, to appear in a photo as evidence of how life can go on. Through miscarriage and divorce, cancer and job loss, deep grief and fierce betrayal, one day stubbornly leads into the next. There is one more day, and then another.

The story of the Christmas cards is one of hope. We can put on our best clothes and smile at the camera, but the real hope comes in the mess of a manger birth. The real hope is the child who would not avoid the real hardships of life, but live them, one day stubbornly leading to the next.

Christmas cards can lure a person into believing that life can look perfect; we can all have our tidy lives. But there are no tidy lives. Every relationship is hard at times. Your relationship with your own self can be trying! Each and every person is touched by the messiness of life.

The story of Christmas is this: Immanuel (God-with-us) in the mess, in the hardship, in the despair – hope evident in the Christmas cards on your wall, in a basket, but I hope not in an album unless you have tons of space!

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Slow-Growing Advent Hope

Here is a fable to illustrate hope.

Imagine a forest populated with ferns and bamboo.

Long before, a farmer had planted seeds to grow the lush ferns and abundant bamboo. The ferns grew quickly, covering the ground like the green shag carpet in the living room of my youth.

However, even after an entire year nothing came of the bamboo.

The following year, the fern continued to grow more vibrant and abundant, but nothing grew from the bamboo seed. This continued for five years, until a tiny bamboo shoot emerged from the earth. It could hardly be seen among the now plentiful fern.

In the sixth year, however, the bamboo sprung up an astounding 60 feet! It had spent five years growing the roots to sustain it.

Hope can be impossible to see. It may be hard to imagine that whatever you are hoping for might work out.

Advent is the time of hoping. In Advent we dare to hope beyond what we might see or even imagine. For instance, God squeezing into the body of a newborn in order to keep us company on earth? We could not begin to hope for God to come this close!

It took many centuries, many millennia, many failed kings, many broken dreams and many misplaced hopes for the slow-growing hope of God to break into the world in Jesus. The astounding mercy of God required an intense root system. Now it is established for eternity.

Do not lose hope, whatever your hopes may be. Roots are slow-growing and hidden. God’s work in your life is at times impossible to see and more impossible to comprehend. There is too much dirt in the way.

At this moment, God is rooting around to position the people you will need into the needed moments in your life. Connections are being made; growth is a quiet set of miracles. Once the roots are ready, you will see. Your hopes are of utmost importance to the God born into the world in the body of hope.

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Sometimes

Margaret Wheatley wrote a book called “turning to one another.” In it, she asks a question that has me pondering: “Am I becoming someone I respect?”

What do you think as you rattle this question around in your heart and mind? I hope it clings to you like it has to me.

Am I becoming someone I respect, now perhaps halfway through this life? Am I?

I answer with a resounding: sometimes. Sometimes I speak up for my neighbor when I would rather not. Sometimes I slow down enough to recognize my life is not mine, it is God’s. Sometimes I pay close attention to the people God has put in my life to love. Sometimes I know what matters to me and order my life around these values. Sometimes.

And sometimes, I mostly hope people like me. I rush through the days and miss the moments that matter. I make hasty decisions that don’t reflect my values. Sometimes.

Last night in Confirmation, we discussed Jesus’ humanity and divinity. “Was Jesus human or divine,” I wondered with them. I began to answer with the theological response that frankly makes the Christian faith hard. But before I could give the answer, which is “yes,” a student responded, “Both, I bet it’s both.” Yeppers.

It’s both. This is, perhaps, the hurdle of the Christian faith. Choosing one answer over the other is cleaner and more comforting. If you feel like nerding out, the 4th century argument over whether Jesus was human or divine exacerbated by a heretic named Arius led finally to the formation of the Nicene Creed. In it, we confess Jesus was born of the Holy Spirit and the virgin Mary and became truly human. Jesus was human and divine, both at the same time.

If Jesus can be both, then there may be space for the sometimes answer. I can be both broken and made whole. I can be hopeful and despairing. I can be forgiven and yet forgetful, saint and sinner. My days can be both ups and downs, tragic and joyful.

Am I becoming someone I respect? Sometimes. And yet, the mercy of the Savior both human and divine is not sometimes, but at-all-times.

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