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“Making Peace With Halloween”
Jason Gray at The Rabbit Room wrote a thought-provoking post about Making Peace With Halloween. Here’s a taste:
…these days my guiding conviction is that my job as a co-sanctifier with Christ is to take what is broken and do my part in reclaiming it, perhaps even making it beautiful, by God’s grace. My earlier attempts of disavowing Halloween were neither redemptive nor beautiful. At best they might have been neutral, but I suspect they did more damage than good…
When the twins were little and their hands would get cold, they’d each slip them into my gloved hand to warm them up as we’d walk door to door. It’s one of my most cherished memories of all time. Then I’d stand back as they would timidly take the steps of a neighbor’s house, knock, and with little voices say “trick or treat” and then “thank you”. Taya would stay back at our house to greet trick or treaters, handing out copious amounts of candy (everyone knows us as the “gospel singing family” and she wants to build a reputation of generosity for us. Perhaps she’s also making up for the “lost years”…) Over time it has grown into a Halloween party… you see, these days I’m more interested in reclaiming things and repurposing them than I am protesting.
I love the idea of Halloween as an opportunity to share with your community, to teach generosity to your children, to get to know your neighbors better, to build relationship. I can’t wait to take our children tomorrow, to pass out huge handfuls of candy, to shine our lights bright in the darkness, and to meet the people in our new community. I used to hate Halloween, truly I did… but over the past few years, I’ve grown to love it!
Jason’t post is a long read, but well worth it!
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I Can’t Hear You
There is a train that goes by our house once a week, sometimes more. Off in the distance we can hear its whistle announcing its arrival. And every time that whistle blows, Bella comes running, hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face. “MOMMY! The twain! Is loud!” She screams in complete and utter terror. I often run to meet her halfway knowing her fear.
A few days ago we were upstairs. I was folding laundry and she was building houses in the boys’ room. I heard the far-off whistle alarm blowing, and I met her in the hallway, holding her, soothing her. Once the train arrived, we watched it and, like always she was fascinated, held safely in my arms. That day the train arrived and slowly breezed through our town. She returned to her play and I returned to our walk-in closet, hanging shirts, arranging shoes. I didn’t hear the clang of the train cars returning, backing up to meet a new engine.
“Mommy!” she called. “Where are you?”
“In here, babe. In the closet.”
She arrived at the door, tears streaming down her face, “I was looking for you, but I couldn’t hear you.”
That, my friends, is how I am feeling every. single. day. The depression, pain and fatigue are so overwhelming and all I can think is, “Where are you God? I can’t hear you. How am I supposed to do all this without you?”
But the truth of the matter is that He is still there, just like I was when Audrey called. I had never left, she was still safe, and just because she couldn’t hear me or know where I was, didn’t change truth.
And truth is God is here and God hears. He hasn’t left just because I feel like I can’t find Him. His character isn’t based on my experience or my feelings.
And as the clanging of my life’s train cars crash into the chaos of my life, deafening His voice, I will keep looking for Him, and calling because I know He is here.
And one day the sadness will lift forever, the fatigue will be replaced with abundant energy, and the pain will disappear, and all I will have left is eternity hearing His voice.
Lord, teach me to listen. The times are noisy and my ears are weary with the thousand raucous sounds which continuously assault them… Let me hear Thee speaking in my heart. Let me get used to the sound of Thy voice, that its tones may be familiar when the sounds of earth die away and the only sound will be the music of Thy speaking voice. (~A.W. Tozer)
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Labels
I hate to be labeled…
I don’t tell people I like to watch super hero and science fiction because I don’t want to be labeled a geek.
I don’t like driving a mini-van because I don’t want to be labeled a soccer mom.
I don’t tell people I love pink and princesses and girly-girl things because I don’t want to be labeled a priss.
I don’t tell people I love sports because I don’t want to be labeled a tom boy.
I don’t tell people I love show tunes because I don’t want to be labeled a drama queen.
I don’t tell people I am for or against certain things politically because I don’t want to be labeled a radical or a liberal.
I don’t tell people I have real issues with certain behaviors or tv shows or movies because I don’t want to be labeled a legalist.
Instead, I often sit in silence, and when someone tells me they hate red, I just smile and keep to myself that red is my favorite color. Or when someone tells me all the things I “should do” with my house or my family or my health, I just smile and keep to myself that I already have plans for my house or my family or my health care.
I fear too much of what people may think… which is kind of crazy, considering I have a blog, and I share what I think (to a degree).
I’m tired. Being a people pleaser is tiring. I’m tired of hiding who I am because I fear what others may think. I am tired of finding little enjoyment in who I am because I get overwhelmed by strong personalities.
It’s idolatry. This people pleasing. This happiness rising and falling with the approval of others. I ask myself: Why? Why do I do this? Why do I care so much what others’ think? Why do I have this need for others’ approval when the approval belongs to one person:
Jesus Christ.
And so I am finding great liberty in being me. The me that He created me to be. And all I need to know is that I’m valued by Him. I only ask “Does Christ approve?” I know he approves of me as His child, but does He approve of what I’m saying and doing?
That is the label I want.
I want to be labeled a Christian. I want to be labeled as someone Who seeks Him first in all things. I want to be labeled as someone who is compassionate and kind and loving because of Him, not because of me.
Soli Deo Gloria.
To God Alone be Glory.
That is the label I want.
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Brag On Him
In February, I wrote a post about my Brian, and today it’s being featured on the Blissfully Domestic blog. Malia has a weekly column called Brag on Him (Don’t Nag on Him). I’m there today… and I’m bowled over by what was happening in our life just 8 months ago. Not only is it a huge reminder of God’s faithfulness with the husband He has given me, but it’s a huge reminder of God’s faithfulness in our lives.
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Another Form of Craziness
She wished the foliage would work in reverse, that you could see colors most of the time, the uniform green for only a few short weeks. But who could endure such richness? Surely people would go crazy from so much beauty. Or else they’d get used to it, and then ignore it, another form of craziness.
(from E. Berg’s “Ordinary Life: A Love Story“)
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Screen Shots from the Best Movie I’ve Ever Seen
From Shauna Niequist’s “Cold Tangerines”Your life, right now, today, is exploding with energy and power and detail and dimension, better than the best movie you have ever seen. You and your family and your friends and your house and your dinner table and your garage have all the makings of a life of epic proportions, a story for the ages. Because they all are. Every life is.
You have stories worth telling, memories worth remembering, dreams worth working toward, a body worth feeding, a soul worth tending, and beyond that, the God of the universe dwells within you, the true culmination of super and natural.
You are more than dust and bones.
You are spirit and power and image of God.
And you have been given
TODAY.
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What Daddies Do
“Mom?” green eyes sparkle at me, “You be the Mommy and I’ll be Daddy, because I want to grow up just like him, so I need to practice.”
Grinning at my Bear, I pause over the rolls I am slicing. “Ok. But what do daddies do?”
He runs from the room and returns with a book. “This is my Bible and I am going to read and learn all about Jesus.”
He plops himself on the rolling chair by the desk, “Now you listen while I tell you what to do.”
I laugh. “Oh, really?!” I say. “How about you tell me what it is you’re learning in your Bible?”
“Well,” he flips through the pages of his book, “I read it every day and I learn about how Jesus died on the cross. And I learn that He loves me and I love Him and He loves all the children, red and yellow, black and white, because there’s a song in my Bible.”
Smiling, I pull my quiche from the oven, “What else?”
He quizzes me, “What else, what?”
“What else are you learning?”
He grins. “All about being a daddy like Daddy. I go places with my boys and we work in the yard and I go to work every day, but I still like to play. A lot.”
He jumps down from his chair, puts his “Bible” under his arm and says, “Mom, I’m gonna go now.”
“Okay.” I wink at him as he races away. He reaches the hallway, then I hear his feet thumping back to me and feel his arms wrap around me.
“I love you, Mommy.” I kneel to circle him as he whispers, “You have to say that every day when you’re a daddy, too.”
And he’s gone, and I am left breathless, thankful for a dear boy who’s learned a lot about what daddies do from a dear man who does a lot.
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Just A Little Glimpse…
…of how life has come at us the last few weeks.
(I promise you, I did not touch her hair after nap… it looked like this all on it’s own. Haircut anyone?)
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Sunrises and Sunsets
There is nothing like going out back early in the morning, walking the yard and seeing this…
Then again, there is nothing like standing at my kitchen window early in the morning, sipping coffee and seeing this…
But then again, there is nothing like sitting on my front porch after a long day and seeing this…
The world is alive, blinking and clicking, winking at us slyly, inviting us to get up and dance to the music that’s been playing since the beginning of time… (Shauna Niequist, “Cold Tangerines”)
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Childlike Faith
It is the same each night that I go in to check on her. Tossing in her restlessness, she has turned herself upside-down, on top of quilted covers, feet dangling over the bed’s edge. I lift her in my arms and place her gently back on her pillow pulling her blankets around her.
It is such a simple, automatic gesture with which she responds. Never waking as I lift her, she pulls her arms around my back and hugs tightly, then sighs with contentment when I place her back where she belongs. It is a gesture so sweet, simple and beautiful. One of childish faith and love.
On the nights when Bri or I forget to go into Bella’s room, I hear the thump later, and I cringe. I hear the wails as I race down the hallway and smooth her curls whispering apologies. She is in pain. She has been awakened ruthlessly in her fall. She needs my comfort. In moments she is asleep again on her pillow, back in safety.
And I think about me. My restlessness. My carelessness. My falling asleep in life and dangling over the brink of sin, ready to fall.
How I long for the childish act of my daughter when my Father lifts me gently away from the edge. Instead I resist, pushing Him away and lifting my chin in defiance. I can do this on my own!
I turn away, making excuses, seeing how close to evil I can get… oh, this show is ok, it only has a “few” sexual innuendos in it and everyone else watches it… oh, I can be critical of this person, it won’t change the way I think about her in the long run… oh, I can place expectations on my husband, after all, that’s his role… oh, I can hold bitterness in my heart, I probably won’t really see that person much anyway… oh, I can ignore my work to be idle, after all, tomorrow is another day…
The beauty of relationship with Him is that He’ll never forget. In His grace, He is always there, wooing me back from the edge. Pulling me to safety. Comforting me when I fall. Putting me back on His right path.
And oh how happy I am when instead of resisting Him, I follow that path in love. No, I won’t watch this show no matter how many others do, and I will set a guard over my heart… no, I won’t be critical but remember how many failings I have… no, I won’t place unhealthy expectations on my Brian but remember his unconditional love for me… no, I won’t hold bitterness in my heart, but go back to forgiveness over and over and over… no, I won’t ignore my calling, but will work heartily as unto the Lord.
How I long for this gesture of obedience to be automatic.
Like my Bella’s arms circle me, I long for my life to wrap around Him.
And when He pulls me back to safety, I sigh contentedly, knowing I am where I belong.
Grace. Grace. It is all of grace.
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A Spring of Joy 