Category Archives: family

Introducing…

Meet my newest book!

Unlike normal people, I have spent most of the year in Advent. My days off have been filled with Advent wonder and writing. I am grateful to finally share this with you!

Let me introduce you to the book.

Soon it will be Advent, a word that means arrive. Advent will lead to Christmas, when you may gather with familiar people for the holiday. I wrote this book of daily Advent reflections because family gatherings tend to be tricky. Some of you even dread holidays with family. This does not make you a terrible person, it simply makes you human.

Christmas is an advent of the familiar, that is, an arrival right back with the familiar people with whom you started. Christ will come soon, and your family might be coming to your house soon! Wait, don’t panic.

I hear a chorus of the same holiday angst. angst. You are not alone if thinking ahead to Christmas dinner and the familiar faces raises your heart rate.

A main idea in this book is the hard truth that you cannot change the familiar people with whom you gather. You can, however, wait. Before you react, perhaps you change your response to the dread, angst, or irritations you feel when you gather with them. This book is meant to equip you to be your own, honest self with your family, and to rely on the gentle love of Jesus, the one who is to come.

The book relies on a way to understand relationships called systems theory. In a nutshell, systems theory gives you a broader look at relationships and your own part in them. I hope this book makes you a factory of curiosity and wonder about your own self, which may lead to lighter, healthier relationships in your family. Each chapter ends with a reflection question and brief prayer.

The book is kind of available on Amazon. I say kind of because Amazon is stating the book’s status as “temporarily out of stock.” Amazon prints self-published books on demand, so that makes no sense. Maybe by the time you read this, Amazon will have changed the status. If not, you can go ahead and add the book to your cart, order it, and Amazon will email you when it is available again. Within the next week, you will find an e-book on Amazon.

If you subscribe to my blog, earlier this week you received a sneak peek of chapter two! Subscribers will also receive an email when the e-book is free for a day on Amazon.

Advent begins four weeks before Christmas. If you enjoy a daily devotion, you can begin reading on December 1st and continue through Christmas Eve. The book includes 24 daily reflections to slow you down as you wait for the one who is to come, who is mercy in a manger for you.

Hey, Don’t You Live Up There?

One Wednesday night at St. John is an adventure story. Within three hours, there is an intensity to the volume of delightful, multi-generational conversation, mishaps, tears and giggles. I love how this gathering reflects life as it truly is: imperfect.

Luther described a theology of the cross as God meeting us not in the positive, perfect moments, but in the thick of life. Call a thing what it is, Luther instructed. And so, we call our lives what they are: hurried and haggard at times, each day our best effort and nothing more. Christ did not die for our sins because we have our lives together, but because we do not.

I love Wednesday nights because this is what we live out – a theology not based on rewards for how well we are living, but a theology that solidly trusts in God’s grace through Christ. This gift of grace is enough. You do not need to do more, try harder, or get better.

Where you live, with your weariness and wondering, is exactly where God meets you. In the adventure story of Wednesday nights, we live out our imperfect lives fully trusting in God’s perfect grace.

The number of stories manifested on a single Wednesday night could fill a book, that is, if you could be on all three floors and in every corner of the building at the same time. Since I cannot, I can only report this small chapter.

I sat behind a young, conversational kiddo at worship. I was doing my best to listen to Christina preach, but my worship neighbor has not yet perfected the art of whispering.

“Hey, what’s your name?” she wanted to know.

“Lisa,” I whispered quietly, dropping a hint.

She gave me a hard look and then threw a glance toward the front of the church where Christina was speaking.

“Hey, don’t you live up there?”

“What?” I whispered, trying to set an example and failing.

“Don’t you live? Up there? Why aren’t you up there?”

Oh, I realized! She thinks my home is the chancel. That I make my bed beside the altar and eat bread and wine for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That I had left my home up front to sit in the back of the church.

She accepted my whispered answer, that it wasn’t my turn to be “up there,” and the night went on. During Communion distribution, she had one more thing to say to me, as she paged through the heavy hymnal.

“I like this book,” she announced. “And this is my church.”

There she was in a community of people who astound me each week. Parents and grandparents who have decided that passing along the Christian faith is worth the work of getting a young family to church, which can be a great deal of work. Many of these parents wear their fatigue on their faces, their time at church a brief intermission from running between kids’ activities.

Because my worship neighbor’s family almost never misses worship, this little girl may not be proficient at whispering, but she is wise enough to know St. John is her church.

The adventure book would capture other moments: grandparents teaching grandkids how to hold their hands for Communion; single parents who visit with their kiddos over supper with no cell phone in sight; a cook who lets nothing get in the way of her dedication to the ministry of the Wednesday night meal; kids who woke up that morning and announced to their moms that they can’t wait to eat at church; ordinary people who extraordinarily teach, mentor, sing, wash tables, bring dessert…

We do none of this perfectly. Perfect is not the goal, not the requirement, indeed not even a helpful aspiration. Perfect is the love of God, who also does not live “up there,” but here, among us, now and always.

Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

A Birthday is Big

Birthdays shmirthdays, some might say. But not me! I love the gift of a birthday. Adding another year to a person’s age is nothing short of a miracle.

Walking with people in their faith, I witness both the joys and the trickiness of adding another year. It might mean one more year without that beloved person whom you miss. Or one more year moving through the deep waters of depression. It might mean one more year unemployed or less physically able.

I remember hearing a mom explain to her little kids that each year we get older we move one year closer to death which is one year closer to heaven. I think it was meant to be encouraging, but yikes!

A birthday, however, is a way to keep us honest. This life on earth will end. None of us gets out alive. Each day is precious just as you are precious in God’s sight.

Today my husband adds one more year to his age. Who better to remind him of his mortality than his wife/pastor!

A birthday is an invitation for each of us to wonder.

How might the fragility of this life shape your decisions? Are you doing the work you feel called to do? Are you using God’s precious gift of time to connect with your beloved people? Are you hanging out with Jesus each day?

The best part of birthdays, of course, is not the mortality wondering but the cake. Or the pie. Or whatever it is that marks the occasion. It is a sweet gift to add that extra year.

Photo by Christopher Martyn on Unsplash

Another Word for Dysfunction

When families gather, each person plays his or her part. There is the wild and crazy one, the organized and orderly one, and the peacemaker in between. Throw in the matriarch and patriarch, the family member who keeps his or her distance, and the perpetually embittered and you may have a complete cast of characters for any family.

If you think your family is uniquely dysfunctional, open the curtain to see an audience of all the other uniquely dysfunctional families, which is to say, all families. At least God was consistent in creating families the same!

In the Christian faith, another word for dysfunction is brokenness. All families are broken because all humans are broken. We are, each of us, an assortment of broken pieces reset each day by the gluey grace of God. We are not perfect clay jars, but by God’s grace we are “afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair.” (2 Corinthians 4:8) Humans and their families are broken and beloved clay jars through and through.

Being part of a family is unavoidable. A family member can move away but cannot move on. The relationship system in which we grew up, even if not for an entire childhood, even if we never again see those family members, will forever shape who we are.

Look around your family. Who is among the cast of characters? What part do you play? What are your starring and supporting roles?

If you have harsh words for the cast, or if there are scenes you play in your mind on repeat that portray you as victim, perhaps you do this: take yourself to a thrift store, find an old jar, take it home, wrap it in a towel, and break it into a few pieces with a rubber mallet. You can leave the jar in pieces, but if you put it back together, you witness the daily work of the potter. We are afflicted but not crushed. Each piece has its place, like a character with its own part to play. Each piece is valuable, but not on its own.

Your broken family, your broken self, is never beyond repair for the potter and the potter’s gluey grace.

Photo by Content Pixie on Unsplash

This is Not Your First Day (Part Two)

Did you do your homework? Did you?

The reflection questions in the previous post turn your early-days-of-the-school-year attention away from your kiddo and onto you. Yes, you! Parents and guardians tend to focus heavily on our kids when something exciting is about to happen. We ask them:

  • How are you feeling? Are you nervous?
  • You’re a senior! What are you going to do next year?

We might forget that focusing on an anxious kiddo only increases the anxiety and pressure in your relationship. I am guilty as a mom of trying to be helpful only to become obnoxious. This is not something I intend to do, I just happen to be good at it!

It tends to lighten up your relationship with your child if you give your child a break and pose these questions to yourself.

  • Am I feeling anxious? How might I manage my own anxiety?
  • Life is changing for my kid. What am I going to do next year?

I suspect we direct questions to our kids and grandkids with the intention of helping them. Our questions are, as far as we can tell, indicators of how much we care. When actually, question-overload is like keeping the heat on high under a boiling pot of macaroni. It works just as well, even better, to turn the heat down.

In the Bible when life heated up, when the pressure was high, when people may have felt like an overcooked macaroni noodle, the writers offered images as encouragement. With words, they drew pictures of God:

  • God holds back the waters so they do not overwhelm you. (Isaiah 43:2)
  • God dries your tears and wraps you in joy. (Psalm 30:11)
  • You cling to God, and God holds you with one hand. (Psalm 63:8)
  • God is your forever lookout to help you when you need it. (Psalm 121:1)

To you encourage you, beloved parent or guardian, here is an image for you:

Accompanist

A parent or guardian who softly plays the chords for the child to make his or her own solo music. present in the background, the accompanist is practiced. This isn’t her or his first day on the piano. an accompanist is positioned to bring out a child’s unique and best.

I’ve not been an actual accompanist, but I know some brilliant ones. They have a remarkable way of knowing the soloist well enough to draw out his or her best sound. Once in a while, they might discreetly play an intro twice when the soloist misses the entrance. An accompanist is not a director, not the boss of the soloist, but more like a guide through the music.

Accompanists know they are not the soloists. This is not their first day. Instead, they offer steady and supportive roles to grow the confidence of the soloist.

Here is a blessing for the accompanists to send you on your way:

Accompanying is a privilege, may you sit in the Spirit’s presence as you play.

Keep your hands on the keyboard, may Christ be the director of this song.

Let the music carry, may the soloist shine with the light of Christ.

Photo by Wan San Yip on Unsplash

This is Not Your First Day (Part One)

Teachers and school staff do not need a calendar to recognize August. Even teachers who retired years ago feel the start of a school year roll in like a storm system. Similar to a change in the pressure system pronounced by the ache in your elbow, former teachers feel the arrival of August in their bones.

Both new and seasoned teachers are walking storybooks, living records of generations of families that have come and gone through their classrooms. Ask one to tell you a story of an anxious parent on “meet-the-teacher” night who organized her 1st grader’s desk, lining up the glue sticks in perfect order. Or the dad who could be mistaken for the anxious student if he wasn’t so tall, projecting his own first-day-jitters.

A parent carries more than the bag of school supplies on the eve of a kiddo’s first day. That parent also brings his or her own baggage: memories of her anxious need for perfection as a student; memories of his fear that he might look weak in front of the other boys. For some parents and guardians, walking into a school might be slightly terrifying. Certain memories, like a change in the pressure system, run deep and make uncomfortable return visits. We are what’s happened to us, perhaps.

This may surprise you, but your child’s first day may benefit from your reflections on your own first days of school. By looking back on your own life, you become a little clearer on your thoughts, feelings, and values, which helps you parent with extra grace for your child and for yourself.

Below are questions to get you reflecting. You might talk through one or two with a friend or partner or scribble a few notes in a journal. Part Two of this series will take those questions one step deeper. How might what you know about yourself both (always both) help and hinder the excitement of your child’s first day? I’ll share an image that has guided my own parenting.

For now, here is your homework:

  • What comes to mind when you recall your own first days of school?
  • Is there a word or phrase that captures how you felt as a student?
  • What did your parents or family expect from you in school? What happened if you fell short?
  • What did you expect of yourself?
  • What was your favorite activity at recess? (This may not be a helpful question – but it might be fun! Playgrounds have changed since you were there!)

As you reflect, pay attention to what happens inside of you. Notice the tender spots, the feelings that bubble up. And then take a breath that fills you with the peace of the Spirit, making all things new. Even you.

Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43:19)

Photo by Deleece Cook on Unsplash

Measurement Inspector

Today is a 17th birthday at our house – the season of passing through the last step toward independence. In other words, there is a chance my grocery bill may be bearable in the foreseeable future!

Even this far into the wilderness of parenting, it is impossible to remember the millions of moments now filed away as history. The scoop after scoop of sand in the sandbox, so many pushes on the swing, reading words, watching games, thousands of “goodnights” to end the day. And later, negotiating responsibilities, sitting fearfully in the passenger seat beside them, witnessing the changes impacted by friendships. And more changes amid the ever-changing teenager’s ever-changing interests and tastes.

The image of parenting that sticks with me today takes me back to the sandbox, sitting beside the kid and his plastic shovel as he loads sand into a plastic bucket. He will scoop and scoop, then carry the bucket across the sandbox and dump it out, then go back and repeat. If he scoops too much into his bucket, it will be too heavy to carry. Too light and he will get bored going back and forth the extra times.

Parenting, perhaps, has something to do with hanging around enough to encourage him to fill the bucket, but not too much. It is scooping responsibilities into his life just enough for him to carry, not so heavy to be crushing.

You can only know how much a kid can carry by challenging them and by getting to know them, which in itself is an endless job. Kids change and thus they require the constant effort of getting to know them. They deserve your willingness to do this, as they, too, continue to get to know their own selves.

The kids I love to visit with are the ones whose parents refuse to do the talking for them. These parents sit back and watch their kid practice conversation, stumbling at times, yet finding their way into their lives, into their own selves. These are tiny scoops of sand filling a manageable bucket.

And what an incredible, formidable gift to oversee the measurements of sand one year at a time.

Photo by Todd Gallant on Unsplash

Too Close to the Edge

Warning: Nostalgic Mom of High School Graduate Ahead

“Tom, stay away from the edge.”

“Tom, you’re closing in on danger over there.”

“Tom, you’re raising your mom’s heart rate to a dangerous level.”

He has always been the one to test the limits. One walk with him at Wind Canyon in the Theodore Roosevelt National Park was one walk too many! Even at 15 years old, I had to tell him to stop going up (not down) the hotel waterslide because he was creating a following with the impressionable littles in the pool.

It’s a week of double graduations for this dare devil. Tomorrow is his graduation from high school and five days later his graduation from basic training and AIT for the Army, continuing with his service for the National Guard.

Stepping out to the edge and raising his mom’s heart rate is not unfamiliar territory. I’ve had lots of practice watching and turning away – a mom can only take so much, after all!

Graduation is meant to be one careful and well-supported step over the edge, a release and catch situation. The God who walked with God’s people through the wilderness will be there this time, too, the soft landing of grace catching him as he finds and sometimes fumbles his way to the other side.

Photo by Aravind Kumar on Unsplash

Basic Training for Moms

After ten weeks at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, our son completed basic training for the Army National Guard. When exactly did this milestone occur? I don’t know. This is one of my basic training learnings.

#1) You do not get to know when things happen. For example, he arrived at the base the same day he left the airport back in February. But when did ten weeks of basic training begin? One week later? Two weeks later? Somewhere in between? Because the start date was a mystery, so was the end date. One Sunday in April, he told us without fanfare, “We finished basic training.”

#2) The sequel to basic training is Advanced Individual Training (AIT). When AIT occurs at the same base, units might move directly from basic into AIT with graduation at the very end. This is our son’s situation and why the conclusion of basic training was literally nothing to write home about.

#3) There is an acronym for everything. When a sweet veteran at church asks how our son is doing, I am thankful he remembers the acronyms so he can tell me what he is doing! It’s really an IYKYK situation.

#4) When you miss your kiddo and want to write him a letter because you have only a few minutes with him on the phone most Sundays, you need to think carefully. Each piece of mail will cost him 25 push-ups. Not a big deal until the one day he received not one, not five, but nine letters! This kid rocks at push-ups. But for the record, I could do a longer plank than him back in 2016. We will not rematch.

#5) When basic began, so did the end of knowing what my kid was doing much of the day. So did checking in with him now and then. It was like pre-cell phone days! We parent with devices that allow quick visits and location sharing. It’s easy to forget it was not long ago that kids drove away to college with very little access to communication. I miss checking in with him, and I also appreciate the reminder that he is his own person and so am I. Devices can blur those lines.

“This is like basic training for parents,” my husband said a couple months ago. Yep, we are learning the basics: knowing less about his life, trusting elders for wisdom, keeping myself in check when I want to reach out. As long as there are no push-ups, I think I’ll be ok.

Photo by Gabriella Clare Marino on Unsplash

“Help is the Sunny Side of Control.”

Thank you and no thank you, Anne Lamott, for calling me out! I prefer to think my helpfulness is just that, helpful. Life is easier if I press on and offer myself up as the doer; to step into this project and that one and attempt to make other people’s lives a tad easier.

For example: I’ve gotten in the habit of making my daughter’s smoothie in the morning, although she is more than capable of pouring milk and fruit into a blender. I rationalize that my making the smoothie might be the only way she actually consumes fruit. Now she seems to believe it, too.

“Help is the sunny side of control.”

In the Lutheran faith, a sermon is a proclamation of both law and Gospel. The law is meant to set us straight, and the Gospel is meant to set us free from trying to fulfill the law without relying on Christ.

“Help is the sunny side of control” is a sermon composed of both law and Gospel. Sure, we are to be helpers, to be servants of Christ in our home, work and neighborhood. This is God’s law. Also, we are to trust Christ’s hand in the helping. We need not do all the helping on our own. That is the Gospel – Christ is here.

In other words, we can help prep the smoothie ingredients and let the kid do the blending and then consume the fruit. The downside is that I cannot sneak in chia seeds and protein powder. But truth is, not everything hinges on the helpers. That is the Son-ny side of life with Christ. We listen and follow. We lead once in a while, but mostly we entrust our lives to the helpful guide.

Setting aside control, we lead with gentleness, an even more helpful way of living, particularly for the people around us.

Photo by Arvid Skywalker on Unsplash