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Confessions of a Chronic Church Hopper {for SheLoves}

Lately, evangelical Christianity has felt like too many dissonant musical notes strung together. I keep waiting for the resolution in the music. And I’m struggling to stay in the room.

***

As a ten-year-old, I knelt by my bed to “ask Jesus into my heart.” Another fifth-grade friend had told me the day before while we pumped our gangly legs on the blue swing set in the backyard that she hoped she’d see me in heaven. If I wanted to be sure to go there, I needed to pray and ask Jesus into my heart. “Do you want to do it right now?” she pleaded. Shaking my head, I told her I’d think about it. I did, and decided I would rather spend eternity in heaven than in hell. Easy-peasy.

In When We Were on Fire, Addie Zierman recounts her evangelical youth culture upbringing. I could have been reading my own memoir as I flew through the pages. To be a Christian teenager in the 90′s was WWJD, See You at the Pole, “dating Jesus,” Teen Mania, True Love Waits, going to the Christian concerts of Michael W. Smith, Steven Curtis Chapman, Newsboys, Petra and D.C. Talk. It was secret public school prayer meetings, youth group mission trips and camps, Christian T-shirts and worship to six kids strumming guitars in the public park.

Lately, evangelical Christianity has felt like too many dissonant musical notes strung together.

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It meant doing communion with chips and juice on a sidewalk behind the science building before school and slipping homemade gospel tracts into every student’s locker. And it was having your heart smashed by boys who said God told them to break up with you. But life was a battle and we were going to win (so we couldn’t be held back by petty things like love and romance.)

I sometimes miss those days when Holy Spirit fire flooded my veins. When I wanted to live “sold out and radical” for Jesus and “soar, soar, soar” for Him. I miss crying to worship songs and shouting out victory praise choruses, stretching my arms to the sky. I miss knowing without a doubt that God had a radical life planned for me.

The fire didn’t dissipate right away. Instead, after burning hot and wild, it sank to coals, glowing with a more steady heat. But the poker of Life couldn’t leave it alone. Jobs, relationships, disappointments, shame and questions jabbed, poked and prodded once steadily burning coals.

Over the years, I have often heard this illustration about church attendance: You need to stay in community; otherwise you will be like an ember taken out of the fire. Alone in the cold, your flame will eventually extinguish.

I fear that is happening to me now. I have become an expert church hopper. We visited 13 churches in the past two years after moving from Chicago to Colorado. We really have tried to make many of them work, jumping into small groups, church potlucks, newcomer’s luncheons and homeless outreaches. But after so many months, I am ready to admit that perhaps it is not the church that’s deficient. Maybe it’s me …

Continue reading the rest of the post at SheLoves

**Contains Amazon affiliate links

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Ten Writing Tips from The 10 Minute Writer’s Workshop Podcast

Recently I’ve been binge-listening to the NPR podcast The 10 Minute Writer’s Workshop. In it, the host, Virginia Prescott, interviews famous writers about their writing process. She begins each podcast with the question, “Which is harder to write—the first sentence or the last?” Many of the writers chuckle and answer, “the middle!”

Here are some of my biggest takeaways from the hours I’ve spent listening to these talented writers over the past couple weeks:

1. The best way to become a better writer is to be a prolific reader.

2. The other way to get better at writing is to write. There are no shortcuts to sitting in your chair and doing the work.

3. The worst thing new writers do is give up.

4. You have to find what works for you when it comes to daily rituals (though most wake up very early in the morning to write).

5. Every writer said the final product is usually far different from the first draft. They spend a lot of time editing and revising their work. It’s okay to write a shitty first draft (as Anne Lamott talks about).

6. Don’t just write what you know (like so many people advise).

7. Sometimes saying something simply is the best way to say it.

8. When they are stuck, they mix up the routine:  go for a walk, change locations or switch from a computer to free-writing in a journal.

9. At least five writers mentioned Anne Lamott’s book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life as a book for writers to read. Other books mentioned more than once were The Writing Life by Annie Dillard and On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King. (I’ve read them all and agree!)

10. Many writers expressed that the work takes on a mind of its own and that they are simply a conduit for the words to get themselves onto the page and out into the world.

 

If you are a writer, teacher or student of writing, I would highly recommend this podcast for ideas on finding your writing flow. Each time I listen, I walk away encouraged and more motivated to share my words with the world.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever received? Which of these tips most resonates with you at this stage of your writing career?

Check out this podcast to hear quick, fascinating interviews with some of these writers: Salman Rushdie, Alexander McCall Smith, Anita Shreve, Patti Smith, James McBride, Joe Hill, Judy Blume, Jodi Picoult, Colson Whitehead, Krista Tippett and many others!

 

**Contains Amazon affiliate links

If you are a writer, teacher or student of writing, I would highly recommend this podcast for ideas on finding your own writing flow.

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Monthly Mentionables {May 2017}

I’m starting to accept that my children (not my friends or even my husband most of the time) are my companions and fellow adventurers. These little people are always, always with me. Fortunately, they don’t seem to mind their mom wildly weaving our minivan through canyons to unknown destinations in the mountains; or exploring the neighborhoods of Denver when two out of three of the kids fall asleep on our way to the zoo.

One of the benefits of having three children is that I am forced to relax. I can’t be Super Mom and that has to be okay. This means my children climb huge rocks while I nurse on a bench. The baby rarely gets to nap in his crib and has already eaten more junk food in two months than my first born had the entire first three years of his life. I frequently rewash laundry that has sat more than 24 hours and never have a clean house. I let my two-year-old daughter pick flowers pretty much anywhere she pleases, my four-year-old son dress himself in mismatched outfits, and allow my husband to haphazardly “style” my daughter’s hair. *Sigh*

But we are living. And I’m learning to breathe to the rhythm of slow and simple.

I’m learning to breathe to the rhythm of slow and simple.

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Here are some books, articles, podcasts and writing pursuits I poured into the chinks of my days this month to hydrate my brain and assure myself i’m still a thinking person. What about you? What have you been into?

Books:

Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less, by Greg McKeown

This was a fabulous book, even though I found it very male-centric and focused more on people in the corporate world than in the creative world. That said, it was definitely applicable to anyone with a pulse in their body pushing them to live their best life. It was a quick read and challenged me to say no more often and prioritize how I spend my time (which is always a good thing).

The Contemplative Writer, by Ed Cyzewski

This was also a very quick read, but helped me reorient my writing through utilizing spiritual practices. I look forward to using them when my brain starts working again in about five years.

I Am Malala, by Malala Yousafzai

I read this with my book club last month and I so wanted to love it. It was definitely a worthy read, but I got bogged down in the first third of the book by the detailed history of the politics of Pakistan. But I’m glad I persisted because it was fascinating to learn more about the culture of Pakistan and certainly puts my privileged life into perspective.

When We Were on Fire, by Addie Zierman

I think I read this book in less than 48 hours. If Amy Peterson’s memoir about her two years overseas was part II of my life story, Addie’s book would have been my part I. I could so relate to her reflection on (and critique of) the Christian evangelical culture she had grown up in. Reading her memoir was like finding a kindred spirit at just the right time.

Podcasts:

10-Minute Writer’s Workshop–I loved ALL of them (I binge-listened this month!)

Chasing Justice—Amena Brown Owen, Justin Dillon, and Sandra Van Opstal (I just started this one and it is quickly becoming an obsession.)

On Being with Krista Tippett—Richard Rohr–Living in Deep Time, Patrisse Cullors/Robert Ross–The Spiritual Work of Black Lives Matter

Pass the Mic—The Great Woke Debate

Pray-As-You-Go Podcast (This is still the podcast I listen to while I get breakfast ready for my kiddos.)

Truth’s Table—Why the Church Matters

 

Articles:

11 Things White People Need to Realize about Race, by Jessica Samakow for Huffington Post (an older article, but still so relevant!)

Being Black, a Woman, and an Evangelical, by Natasha Sistrunk Robinson for Missio Alliance

Having a Yardsale Confessions of a Yard Sale Fanatic, at yardsalequeen.com (We had a garage sale this month and this was super helpful!)

SheLeads: An Awakenings Syllabus to #AmplifyWomen, by Natasha Sistrunk Robinson for Missio Alliance (A response from a woman of color to the CT article that set the Christian blogosphere on fire last month, plus a fabulous list of books and articles to read.)

Thirteen Lessons on Motherhood: One for Every Year I’ve Been a Mom, by Tina Osterhouse at her blog (I needed to read all of these!)

Why a Racially Insensitive Photo of Southern Baptist Seminary Professors Matters, by Jemar Tisby at The Washington Post

In Case You Missed it at Scraping Raisins:

Are You Done Having Children? (find out if we’re done …)

Motherhood as Spiritual Practice? {A Review of Long Days of Small Things}

Love Like a Fool {A Review of Redeeming Ruth}

 

Find Me Elsewhere on the Web at:

SheLoves: In Solidarity with the Butt Wipers

The Times Record: In the Fire and here, too

Velvet Ashes: A Letter to the One Returning Home

***

I feel I’m standing at the edge of summer and there is so much freedom and so much possibility. And so little sleep and so many tantrums … pray for me. Don’t let the pretty pictures fool you.  😉 (See above posts about motherhood for a more detailed view of life as i see it right now …)

Drop me a comment about what you have been into or connect with me on social media! I’m always looking for good recommendations!

xo

Leslie

***This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

Linking up with Leigh Kramer (What I’m Into) and Emily P. Freeman (What I Learned this Spring)

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Love Like a Fool {A Review of Redeeming Ruth}

As a mother, I admit I was nervous to read a book about losing a child. In fact, I confess I skipped ahead to find out what happened to Ruth just so I wouldn’t be anxious the entire book. My mama heart didn’t have the capacity to wait two hundred pages for the details of a tragic death. But in a way, knowing from page one about Ruth’s death helped launch me into this story about a family from Maine who became accidental parents to a disabled girl from Uganda. I had so many questions.

Meadow Rue Merrill, a professional journalist, expertly guides the reader into this compelling tale of love through dynamic dialogue and word wizardry in Redeeming Ruth.

As a memoir, Meadow’s thoughts, feelings and reactions to adopting an African girl with special needs are both authentic and believable. Although this story is not commonplace, it was extremely accessible and did not feel like she was placing her family on a pedestal, like so many Christian memoirs can feel. Instead, Meadow shares with humility how they first met Ruth, questioned whether they had what it took to adopt her, and then revealed all the emotional and physical roadblocks they encountered along the way. This book does not read like a story about a family with super-human strength, but a family that could just as easily be yours or mine. It was a story about a simple family who learned that love could sustain them even through hardship and loss.

“Love like a fool, without considering what such love will cost.” -@MeadowRueWrites

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If you love memoir, are interested in adoption or Africa, or work with children with special needs, then you will find this story particularly compelling. Meadow dispels many myths about international adoption as she chronicles the sticky details of adopting Ruth from Uganda. I personally loved the vibrant descriptions of people and places in Africa since I spent six months in Uganda during college. Her words helped me to see the buses, feel the dust on my toes and greet my amazing friends there once again.

I also appreciated learning about the hurdles and small victories involved in caring for a child with special needs. Having this window into their world reminded me to offer support to friends and family I have who may be caring for children with additional needs.

If you love a good story where God appears in miraculous ways, then you will find yourself engrossed in this true tale of selfless love. If you—like me—are a mother who is afraid to read a book about losing a child, this will remind you to hug your children tighter and savor every moment you have with them. And though the story is gut-wrenching, their grief is equally weighted with hope.

Reading Redeeming Ruth was a gift. I felt honored to be invited into such a beautiful journey of surprising joy in the midst of struggle and sadness.  It was a welcome reminder of how one little life can impact so many.

Meadow challenges her readers at the end of Redeeming Ruth:

“Love like a fool, without considering what such love will cost. You won’t have to look far to find someone who is hurting, someone without a voice, someone waiting to know that they are loved” (p. 204).

I felt honored to be invited into such a beautiful journey of surprising joy in the midst of struggle and sadness.

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You can buy Redeeming Ruth here.

**Includes Amazon affiliate links

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In the Fire {for Faith Notes}

The park ranger peers up, pointing to the tops of the Lodgepole Pines standing like guards at the Rocky Mountain tree line. “See those pinecones at the top?”

I squint, attempting to be mentally present while my body warns me my infant son an hour away will be hungry soon.

“Those are called serotinous cones. They’re covered in resin and store their seeds until triggered by a forest fire.” He continues hiking and I pause a second longer, struck by a rare moment of mental clarity in an otherwise foggy time of life. I reflect on the past five years as a mother to three children, four and under.

At 31, I had given up on love. Living in the middle-of-nowhere China, I refused to forfeit my ambition for a man. In fact, I pitied women who sacrificed their dreams for marriage.

And then I met Adam. He was everything I had hoped for in a man, but was like finding the perfect home in the wrong neighborhood. He felt no pull to live overseas. But I knew we belonged together and within two years I was married, unemployed and pregnant.

Motherhood consumed my identity like a ravenous fire.

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Motherhood consumed my identity like a ravenous fire.In pregnancy, skin stretched to obscene proportions. Feet, face and hands swelled. Hormones swung faster than a preschooler on a swing set. “Come back when you think you’re dying,” the midwife said. We thought she was being dramatic. We were wrong. Pain screamed, then new life sang. One life split into two …

 

Continue reading at Faith Notes

(Also featured at The Times Record)

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Are You Done Having Children?

People love to ask this question. And I’ve been thinking about my answer.

***

Uncapping the black sharpie marker, I scribble a price on the neon green garage sale sticker: $4.00. Placing the tag on the light brown maternity dress, grief suddenly tackles me. I don’t know if I can do this…

This dress was the first piece of maternity clothing I ever purchased back when my body barely revealed a bump. In the Target dressing room, I stuffed my bag under the dress to try and imagine what my body might look like with a tiny human curled inside me. It seemed so surreal.

The dress was a staple in my maternity wardrobe through the wilting heat of three summers in six years. I wore it while in labor from Monday to Friday with my son, the week we determined I was a “slow laborer.” And I was wearing it the day I barely made it to the hospital to give birth to my daughter nearly two years later. I had been in labor 48 hours, but had chosen to ignore the squeezing contractions until I couldn’t anymore. “Now.” I demanded to my reluctant husband, who was remembering the long days of labor with my son. “She’s coming now, so we need to go.”

“Let’s check how far along you are,” the midwife said just minutes after we got to the hospital, pulling on her gloves. “Oop! There’s the head! You’re ready!” she said.

“Do you want to change clothes?” the nurse asked. “Your dress might get ruined.” I let her help me into the gigantic green hospital gown just in time to push out a tiny pink stranger just 30 minutes after arriving at the hospital. My sweet daughter was born on a brilliant sunny day in Chicago in July. And this was the dress I wore just minutes before she entered the world.

Folding the dress and placing it on the pile of other maternity clothes I’ve acquired over the years, the sadness hit.

Is this stage of pink lines appearing on a plastic pregnancy test, baby kicks, musical heart-beat checks and sacred, powerful, life-ripping childbirth really over? Are these the final days of having a tiny squishy body curled against me in bed as I nurse at dawn before the rest of the house wakes? Is it the end of magical baby giggles, laughing at the grimaces babies make as they try new foods or clapping like fools when your child experiences all the “firsts”?

Are we really done having children? And how do we know when we’re done?

I’m still not sure. All my reasons for having a third child obviously still apply for a fourth or fifth or any number of children we may want to have. But here’s why I’m thinking we’re done.

Mainly because in spite of my hesitancy to have an odd number of children, I’ve been surprised by how complete the number three feels. Sitting at a restaurant, when I see a family with two children, I find myself thinking “Not enough.” But when I see four, without even realizing it, I think, “Too many.” So I think—for us—three is the Goldilocks amount of children. “Just right.”

But I also feel I don’t have the capacity—physically, mentally or spiritually — for another baby at my age (I’m 38). My last pregnancy spun me into depression and my body has felt like it aged five years with each baby. I fear another pregnancy would break me.

But having “just” three children also leaves wiggle room for other people God may bring to our home. Just as I always want to have a guest room in our house, I know my heart only has so many rooms available, so setting this limit may ensure I’ll have the space to offer a place at our table to anyone who needs a temporary family. I often pray God will give us the capacity to extend our arms around anyone God brings into our life. Perhaps not having a baby in my belly or nursing on my breast will free me to nurture those who are not my own children.

My other two children are enjoying having more of me again. My baby is now eight months old and more interested in exploring the world through his hands, mouth and however far his chubby legs will take him as he crawls from drawer to cabinet, shoving every stray cheerio in his mouth along the way. He is no longer content to sit still.

Not always having a baby on my lap means more of me for the other two. The times when I force myself to stop folding laundry, picking up clutter or organizing toys and simply sit on the floor to be physically and mentally present with my kids, a child always ends up climbing into my lap. They have missed me. I push away the guilt that creeps in, accusing me of neglecting my two and four-year-olds during the past year of being hugely pregnant or nursing around the clock. They have learned to be more independent and are discovering they have a built-in playmate when mommy is busy with the baby. But they are still little and need me.

So for all those who are asking, I’m saying I am 98 percent sure we are done. As stressful, painful, stretching (in so many ways) and difficult as pregnancy, childbirth and the baby stage have been, I have loved it. I really have. There were moments in my twenties and even as I turned thirty and was still very single, when I wondered if I would ever have children. Once I married, I convinced myself I would have fertility problems. I wanted to shield myself from disappointment. So many of my friends had miscarried or had problems getting pregnant that I wanted to be prepared.

But after five months of waiting, on a cold December morning, I woke my husband up, jumping back in bed with a huge grin on my face.

“I’m pregnant.”

And so I want to celebrate this gift and grieve the passing of such a sacred, special time of life. It has not felt like it “went fast,” but I do wish I could bottle up the magic and open it up every once in a while.

Wouldn’t you love to relive the moment you found out you were pregnant for the first time and you walked around all day with the most amazing secret you’d ever carried? I wish I could encapsulate the feeling of those first butterfly flutters and finally the indignant kicks from a silent being that drew life from my body. Or relive holding my baby for the first time, staring with wonder that there actually was a life inside me all that time. Time suspended and reality spun in those early hours of precious life.

Motherhood is a holy experience. Nothing scrapes the ceiling of the divine like pregnancy and childbirth. Giving birth and being a mother to these three souls has been the honor and joy of my life.

Nothing scrapes the ceiling of the divine like pregnancy and childbirth.

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I place the stack of clothes with the brown dress in the large plastic bin, labeling it “maternity” and slide it over to join the pile of baby clothes I’m also pre-grieving the loss of. I walk over to the rug, plop down and grab my first son, wrapping my arms around him and tucking his long legs into my lap. “Do you know how much I love you?” I whisper. He smiles. Yes. He knows.

Blurry picture and squinty eyes, but this is the dress!

Are we really done having children? And how do we know when we’re done?

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A Letter to the One Returning Home {for Velvet Ashes}

Seven years ago, with all my earthly belongings bundled into two 50 pound suitcases, I flagged my last taxi to the airport. I dozed on the 13 hour flight arcing over the North Pole to return back to the U.S. after living in China for five years. I was returning home.

If you are preparing to leave or floundering to find your footing back home, then this letter is for you.

To the One Returning Home,

Like a transplanted lilac bush, you are being uprooted. Roots severed, your heart, mind and body are undergoing the silent trauma of displacement. You feel lost, alone and out of sorts. You are a misfit in a place where you should belong. Home is now a wild and unfamiliar landscape.

Like a woman’s body after giving birth, you are forever altered. Even when back to your original weight, your body mass has shifted with the weight of new life, your skin stretched to capacity and back. And yet perhaps only you will notice the difference. Some will never know the life you birthed abroad and how it transformed you. People will want you to wear the same clothes, but they no longer fit.

You have changed in a million indescribable ways.

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You carry hidden scars and surprising superpowers. You suffered in large and small ways. But you also celebrated. The first time you were able to tell the shopkeeper exactly what color fabric you wanted to buy, the first time you went across town in a taxi alone or the time you finally detected a spark of something you doubted would ever happen cross-culturally—true friendship. You developed competency in a foreign culture. By the end of year three, you dared say it. You were thriving.

But now your gifts are useless. You no longer need to barter for every item you buy. You don’t need to know where to get your umbrella spokes repaired, your socks darned or how to cook without cheese or butter. Your language skills and cultural expertise are wasted. You cry the first time someone asks you, “So are you using the language you learned?” Because you fear you never will again.

You feel guilty. You believed living abroad was the pinnacle of faith for a person completely “sold out and radical” for Jesus. Even on the hard days, knowing your sacrifice brought a smile to God’s face spurred you on. But now you can’t wave The High Calling Banner everywhere you go. You are just ordinary you.

And you have unspoken questions. Will God love you as much? Will the people who know you admire you? Will you keep loving yourself when you are “just” a teacher, mother, accountant, engineer or computer programmer?

Will your faith survive being transplanted from foreign soil to familiar land?

Garden experts advise you not to prune a lilac bush that is being transplanted. But a person going through re-entry experiences the pain of simultaneously being pruned and replanted. You will survive, but your growth may be stunted for a time. In fact, the garden manuals warn it may take up to five years for a lilac bush to bloom again. This rate of new growth will frustrate you.

But you need to grieve. You may cry every day at first. This is normal. You have mourning to do. You’ve left behind stand-in mothers, fathers, grannies, grandpas, aunties, uncles, sisters and brothers. They adopted you and were the fulfillment of God’s promise to you to “put the lonely in families.”

Perhaps you are leaving spiritual children behind. You bumbled and fumbled with language, but trusted God would speak. And He did. You saw lives transformed by God working in spite of you. A transplanted lilac bush inevitably leaves some roots behind. You will need to mourn the parts of you that will stay in your foreign country. Not every piece of you will return …

Continue reading at Velvet Ashes.

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Motherhood as Spiritual Practice? {A Review of Long Days of Small Things}

Book Review: If you are a mother looking for a book that throws open the windows and invites pure, fresh, breathable air into the room of your soul, then you need to read Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline.

“With all its joys, trials, and demands, motherhood is packed full of spiritual practices.” –Catherine McNeil, Long Days of Small Things

If you are a mother looking for a book that throws open the windows and invites pure, fresh, breathable air into the room of your soul, then you need to read Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as a Spiritual Discipline. When I was pregnant with my first child, I read books on motherhood like I was cramming for a test. I was determined to do it right. Now that I’m five years in, I’m realizing I don’t need to read books that add more for me to do, but books that validate me for what I’m already doing.

What This Book Will NOT Do

This book will not add to your to do list. It will not heap on guilt about all the ways you are not doing enough, teaching enough, or being enough of a godly woman for your children. It will not tell you how to discipline, potty train or feed your child in ten easy steps. Instead, this book will prove to you that you are already living a holy life through simply being a mother. That perhaps God intended all along to intersect with you in these small, seemingly insignificant moments in time that make up the life of a mother.

Who Should Read this Book?

This book was perfect for me right now as a mother to three little ones, four and under. I don’t think it would impact a brand new mom as much since she hasn’t yet experienced the frustration of a Target tantrum or spent a year without sleep. But it might still make a great gift for a new mama who will find it on her shelf one day when she’s desperate for encouragement while nursing her third baby in the middle of the night (ahem). Although McNeil attempts to include women who adopt, I think it would be difficult for a mother who did not give birth biologically to read the parts about pregnancy and childbirth.

This book is ideal for the weary mom who is a few years in, wondering what happened to her life, and needs a fresh look at her world. Every once in a while I need a book to spiritualize the ordinary. When I first got married, the book The Mystery of Marriage, by Mike Mason did that for me. Now, five years in to motherhood, this book was exactly what I needed to remind me who I am and why I’m doing this.

What I Loved

The book cycles through the different aspects of motherhood, illuminating the sacred beauty in sex, pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding and even in menstruation. It reads like a love poem to our female bodies and all they were created to do; our days validated as holy even in their monotony. Each chapter begins and ends with scripture. Throughout the book, McNeil weaves in stories of mothers from the Bible and draws out verses and stories that focus on the parental heart of God.

It reads like a love poem to our female bodies and all they were created to do

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But along with the gorgeous imagery, McNeil also provides simple practices to increase awareness of the divine through breathing, walking, being fully present in the moment, eating, night vigils, drinking and cooking. She offers suggestions for turning even the most unlikely circumstances into spiritual practices. Daily rituals of motherhood such as changing diapers, feeding children, driving kids around and dealing with clutter become opportunities to connect with God.

I have never read a book about motherhood that made me feel so validated and empowered as a woman as Long Days of Small Things (and I’ve read a lot). Far from feeling like a second-class citizen who is missing out on so much of life because I spend my days with little ones, McNeil made me feel like I am privileged to have the mystical experience of creating, sustaining, supporting and caring for another soul.

What I most appreciated about this book was that it reminded me that motherhood is a beautiful, sacred gift to cherish. Though we can feel we are wandering in the wilderness during this season with little ones, McNeil assures us we are exactly where God means us to be. She writes,

“In motherhood we are not furthest from the practices of faith as it seems, but at the center. In this spiritual desert we touch the very pinnacle of spiritual practice.” –Catherine McNeil, Long Days of Small Things

In motherhood we are not furthest from the practices of faith as it seems, but at the center. @CatherineMcNiel

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You can buy Long Days of Small Things here or the audio book on Audible here! (my hubs is an audio book narrator, so I gotta give a shout-out to the audio version!)

Check out Catherine’s post this week at SheLoves.

 

**Contains Amazon affiliate links

 

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In Solidarity with the Butt Wipers {for SheLoves}

Most days I’m responsible for wiping four out of the five butts in our household. Sometimes I change my clothes three times a day because of shoulder snot, spit-up or worse. My life is not glamorous by any stretch. And I know I can’t be the only one.

So today I seek solidarity with the mama who wipes butts other than her own. The mom who eats standing up, has given up on sleep as an inalienable right, and thinks going to the dentist is equivalent to a spa day.

I stand with the mom who sometimes wishes she could run away, and then feels guilty about it. The mom who is compelled to write, teach, create, study, or use her education the way she thought she would, but just can’t right now. The mom who thought her life would be a tad more adventurous. I stand with the mom who sometimes wants to jump in the car and just drive. Anywhere. As long as there is silence.

I stand in solidarity with the mom who feels like she can’t catch up. She is like a cell phone that never charges to 100 percent power but is constantly being unplugged, always needed. We can’t keep up with it all: sleep, cooking, shopping, planning activities for our kids, juggling job and home life, dusting, sweeping, folding laundry, sorting junk, organizing bins of teeny clothing, not to mention making love or talking to our spouses (which sadly makes the “to do” list). We never fall into bed at night thinking, I’m so satisfied by all I accomplished today.

I stand in solidarity with the mama who messes up. We yell, say the wrong thing, get frustrated, lose our cool and do everything “the books” tell us not to do. We fear we’re ruining our kids. We sometimes care more about what other moms think than we do about our relationship with our child. But then we kneel down, peer into their little faces with their tiny noses and earnest looks and we know they forgive us. They adore us, in fact.

I stand in solidarity with the mom who longs for meaningful friendships but isn’t sure how to string together enough play dates to equal one in-depth conversation. As children, we had sleepovers, played in the backyard, then whispered together about our crushes, our fears, and hopes for the future. In college, we shared rooms, clothes, and cars. But marriage and needy children complicated our old habits of friendship cultivating. We need each other more than ever but lack the time, energy and gumption to reach the same level of intimacy we enjoyed when we were single. We turn to social media instead of putting forth the effort to befriend people we can touch and see in real life. Sometimes this is our only option, but we yearn for the flesh, blood, and tears of face-to-face sisterhood.

I stand with the mom who is trying to make the most of these days with little ones because everyone warns us they go so fast …

continue reading at SheLoves.

 

Posted on

Monthly Mentionables {April 2017}

I took a four month break from doing these updates. At first, I didn’t miss it, but then I realized having a record of what I’m reading, writing and listening to keeps me accountable. I read less than usual when I don’t have to report back to the internet world how exactly I spend my time. So here we are again.

Here’s a mash-up of some books, podcasts and articles I enjoyed over the past few months, as well as some insignificant personal news for your reading pleasure.

What have you been into?

Books

A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens–Read this with my book club for December/January.

Dangerous Territory, by Amy Peterson–You can read my review of this here.

Divided by Faith, by Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith–You can read some quotes from this book here.

Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet, by Jamie Ford–Read last month with my book club. We all really enjoyed it. It was fascinating to read about the Japanese internment and how Asians were treated during WW II in the U.S.

The Living Cross: Exploring God’s Gift of Forgiveness and New Life, by Amy Boucher Pye–Enjoyed reading this for Lent this year.

Long Days of Small Things: Motherhood as Spiritual Discipline, by Catherine McNeil–Review coming soon! Loved it.

Prophetic Lament, by Soong Chan-Rah–You can read some quotes I loved from the book here.

Redeeming Ruth: Everything Life Takes, Love Restores, by Meadow Rue Merrill–Review coming soon! Powerful, poetic and heart-wrenching.

Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within, by Natalie Goldberg–This is now one of my favorite books on writing. Highly recommend.

 

Personal News

Spring is here! (Sort of …)

 

We had several inches of snow this past weekend, but it all melted as of Monday. But I managed to snag some lilacs before they were covered in snow. We are loving being able to go to parks, “hike” and go on walks again without having to bundle up.

My Husband Kisses Other Women

I should use that for a blog title one day as click bait. It’s actually true, though it’s within the context of being a stage actor. My husband completed his first show since we got married seven years ago. Six weeks of rehearsals, four, sometimes five, nights a week and an entire month of weekend shows after that. It was stretching, but also magical to see him use his gifts on the stage. We’re in negotiations about how frequently this should be a part of our life. I’ll let you know.

Snack Dinner

Brilliant. My friend posted her dinner on Instagram recently and inspired me. I’ve never seen the kids run to dinner so fast at the announcement that “Snack dinner is ready!”

Four Eyes

After 38 years of perfect vision, I need glasses. I’m already annoying my husband with all the metaphors involving nearsightedness, vision and blindness. Stay tuned. This is not a picture of my new pair, but I’m planning on buying at Warby Parker. Seems like a great deal–they’ll send you five frames for free to try on and you can mail them back. Looks like I can get some glasses for under $100!

Elk!

Reason #317 I know I am no longer in Chicago: three elk blocked the path on my run last week!

Chubby Chinese Babies

I managed to track down the most diverse part of northern Colorado located within three courtyards of international student housing at the university near us. I have been volunteering every Friday morning at their international women’s club. I’ve met women from about fifteen different countries and there are usually about five babies with their mamas there to sit on the couch nursing with me. I’ve gotten to speak Chinese again, learn how to cook different foods and fill the mysterious hole in my soul that can’t get enough of cultures other than my own.

Podcasts

(New to Podcasts? Check out this article to get started!)

The Calling–I enjoy most of these, so you can basically start anywhere! Richard Clark has a wide variety of guests, and I always appreciate hearing about people’s personal take on the concept of calling.

The Longest Shortest Time–How to Not (Accidentally) Raise a Racist–This is an outstanding podcast to educate your children about race. The show notes include additional resources.

Pass the Mic–This is my go-to podcast for talk about race issues from a Christian perspective. Jemar Tisby and Tyler Burns are the hosts and I think I learn a new vocabulary word from Jemar during every show. Very thoughtful, intelligent and God-centric race conversations.

Pray As You Go–I am lucky if I read a few verses in my Bible these days, but this app is helping me connect with God in the midst of the chaos. I often listen while getting the kids’ breakfast ready. Each podcast is less than 15 minutes and includes a song, Scripture passage (read twice) and some questions for meditation.

The Global Church Project–Freeing Church from Western Cultural Captivity (Soong Chan Rah)–As someone who studied the intersection of theology and culture for my masters degree, I have loved this podcast featuring diverse voices speaking into church issues.

Shalom in the City–My Sista’s Keeper (the first of a monthly conversation on race and unity). I appreciate these women having the courage to risk their personal comfort to talk about issues of race, white privilege and racism from a Christian perspective. Very insightful so far.

Sorta Awesome–Spiritual Crisis (the thing that rattled our faith)–Sorta Awesome is one of my all-time favorite podcasts, but this particular one hit many nerves with me (in good ways). I appreciate their honesty, openness and hopefulness in this particular podcast.

Truth’s Table–Glaringly devoid of the female perspective, Raan Network righted the wrong by beginning this new podcast featuring three extremely intelligent women discussing race issues. It has been fabulous so far.

Articles

(I read many articles over the past several months, but these were the most memorable and seemed to spark the best conversations on social media.)

 

Latasha Morrison: The Church is the ‘Only Place Equipped to Do Racial Reconciliation Well,” by Morgan Lee for Christianity Today

SuperBabies Don’t Cry, by Heather Kirn Lanier for Vela Magazine

When I Became a Mother, Feminism Let me Down, by Samantha Johnson for Huffington Post

Why I Send My Child to Public School, by D.L. Mayfield for Think Christian

White People: I Don’t Want You to Understand Me Better, I Want You to Understand Yourselves, by Ijeoma Oluo for Medium

Who’s in Charge of the Christian Blogosphere?, by Tish Harrison Warren for Christianity Today

4 Problematic Statements White People Make about Race–And What to Say Instead, by Ali Owens for Huffington Post

59 Percent of Millennials Raised in a Church Have Dropped Out–And They’re Trying to Tell Us Why, by Sam Eaton for FaithLit

In Case You Missed It on Scraping Raisins:

I wrote every day for 31 days during the month of March. Every Day. For a MONTH. I’d love for you to check out my series called “31 Days of #WOKE.”  You can also listen to an interview with me on this podcast, if that’s more your thing.

Find me elsewhere on the web:

For (In)Courage:

I Tried to Run Away from Love

For Mudroom Blog:

Loving After Trump

For SheLoves:

When the Answer is Not Now

My #Woke Journey

When You and Your Husband Have Different Callings

When Writing Feels Like a Waste of Time

 

I’d love to hear what you’ve been into, so please leave me a comment. Sign up for email updates so you won’t miss a post!

Linking up with Leigh Kramer.

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