Lack of Posts

I haven't had the time or energy to generate new posts recently because I am working on a project which is taking up most of my free time. The project itself is a delight, but it is very time consuming and emotionally draining. It is currently occupying the "internal space" from which my blog entries are generated.

So, I will be back, but probably not for another week!

Too Busy!

I have a new litmus test for whether or not I am too busy: Do I have time to reflect sufficiently about the events in my life such that I could compose a blog entry about something that happened?

The obvious answer for the last week has been, "No." I haven't written on the blog in over a week. When I realized this I though about the last week, and determined that I have been running from appointment, to event, to project almost constantly. Yikes! I hate it when I slide into that mode of operating.

It is not a good way to live.

When I am this busy I lose the ability to see with the "eyes of my heart." Instead, I shift into an efficiency mode that makes me border on the tyrannical with my kids and husband. I become singularly focused -- it's all about "getting things done." I hate it when I do that. Yet I, like the apostle Paul, continue to do "that which I hate."

My younger daughter brought me back to reality yesterday. We were at church, and she was looking at one of the many beautiful stained glass windows which adorn our parish. She looked up at one of the windows which portrays Jesus carrying a lamb over his shoulders and said confidently to me, "Mom, you see that picture? That's Jesus, and he's carrying me. I'm His lamb" Then she bopped off to look at something else with her brother.

The simplicity of her statement and her confidence that the Lord Jesus is with her and carries her through her daily life hit me right between the eyes. The message to me was clear: "Slow down, and let me carry you. "

Message received, at least for now.

A Father's Day Tribute - My Dad

This weekend we are celebrating fathers. There have been many men in my life who have been influential, so I thought it would be edifying to talk this week about three fathers who, up to this point, have had the biggest impact on my life.

The first is, of course, my own father. My dad is a great man. He was a good father, and he is a fantastic grandfather. Family was and still is very important to him. He turned down jobs in which he would have earned a lot more money and gained a lot more prestige than the job he settled into. Why? - Because it required travel and moving his family around the country. He grew up moving from town to town and state to state, and didn’t like it. He didn’t think that kind of a lifestyle would be good for his family.

One of my earliest memories of my dad is from the age of about two. I remember curling up on his chest after my nightly bath, suited in my footy-pajamas, and listening to the beating of his heart as he patted my back. It was a moment which personified how I felt when I was with my dad: wanted, protected, and loved. That is a grid which I was fortunate enough to have from the time I was very little. This sense of feeling wanted and loved, particularly by my father, formed an expectation in my two year-old mind that God was similar to my father. As a result, I have never really doubted whether or not I was wanted and loved by God. That is a gift I have always had, and for that I thank my dad.

As I continued to grow and develop into a young lady, my dad was a steady presence. He was there to cheer me on as I participated in school plays, basketball and soccer games and other activities with which I managed to get involved. It was remarkable to me how few fathers attended these events, but mine always seemed to be there. During my senior year in high school, when I was captain of the girl’s soccer team, he arranged his schedule at work so he could be present at my afternoon games. I don’t think he missed one game. I can still see him standing there on the side-lines with my mother, cheering me on as I played.

I can remember numerous occasions on which he told me he loved me, and that he was proud of me. I thought it was normal for parents to say such things to their kids. It was only when I was much older that I realized that not all parents, and particularly not all fathers, were verbal with their children about the affection and pride they may have felt toward them.

After graduating with my Ph.D., my dad asked for a copy of my dissertation. He actually stayed up one night and read it! I think he is probably the only person besides the members of my dissertation committee who actually read my research. The performance of Asian and Hispanic American college students on the Supplementary Scales of the MMPI-2 is not exactly riveting reading! (Trust me on this – I have never felt compelled to re-read my dissertation.)

To know what a truly remarkable man he is, you also have to know that my dad did not have a father who modeled any of these traits for him. My grandfather, may he rest in peace, was not a good husband or a good father the first time he attempted to fill the roles. As a matter of fact, he was quite the opposite. My dad had to consciously decide to be different from what he knew a “father” to be. And he succeeded marvelously.

Was he perfect? No. No one is. We had our issues, particularly in adolescence. But we worked through them, and ultimately stayed connected. Our connection is stronger now because of those hard times.

What I respect most about my dad is the conscious decision he made to not be like his father. It would have been easy for him to do what he knew, and to behave like his father behaved. Statistically, I should have had a very different childhood from the one I had. Most men who grow up in homes like the one my dad grew up in turn out very differently. But, my dad made a choice; he wasn’t going to be like that. And he wasn’t.

He and my mother will have been married 42 years this summer. Both of his children and all three of his grandchildren love him and are in relationship with him. Truth be told, all of us would do anything we could for him.

The legacy he leaves is substantially different from the one his father left.

Thanks be to God for my dad.

A Week Revisited

This has been a difficult and discouraging week. Events alluded to here have snowballed, and my husband and I are spending a lot of time reminding each other that our job is to obey and be faithful to God with our lives; it is His job to take care of the stressful events that we find ourselves in the middle of right now.

All of this by way of introduction to say that I have had very little time to ponder things that I could actually blog about. I have a few blogs which are half written, but, I seem to have lost my inspiration to finish them, at least for the time being. Maybe next week will be a better week...

As I am writing this my 11 year-old daughter (Mini-me), who makes it a habit to read my blog, bops in and reads the above paragraphs. She looks at me and says admonishingly, "Mom, when I am having a hard time you always encourage me to look at the things in my life that are good, and give thanks to God for how He's blessed me. Maybe you should do that and you'll have a better week, or at least a better outlook!"

*sigh* I hate it when my own words are preached back to me by my eldest child. But, I believe she's right. I suppose I should practice what I preach!

So, what happened this week for which I can give thanks?

* Good friends called, e-mailed, got together for coffee to talk with me. I am thankful for the gift of friendship.

* My mother celebrated her __ birthday. I am thankful that I have a wonderful extended family living near us, all of whom are very involved in our lives and supportive of us as a family.

* One of the youth from our church's youth group (which I lead) graduated from high school. We went to her graduation party. I am thankful for her and for the ways in which she has touched my life.

* I spent an hour Friday evening on my riding lawn mower with my younger daughter. We had a delightful time talking about the birds and the trees and how we really shouldn't run over daddy's sprinklers :)

* My husband and I were able to spend time sitting outside drinking a glass of Merlot before dinner last night.

* The kids put on a musical "production" last night, with R. on the piano, and J. and B. acting out various dramatic scenes. It was both hilarious and touching, depending on the song. We really do enjoy our children!

I think I feel better already!

A Prayer for my Children and Godchildren

Almighty God, heavenly Father, you have blessed us with the joy and care of children: Give us calm strength and patient wisdom as we bring them up, that we may teach them to love whatever is just and true and good, following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen

and...

God our Father, you see your children growing up in an unsteady and confusing world: Show them that your ways give more life than the ways of the world, and that following you is better than chasing after selfish goals. Help them to take failure, not as a measure of their worth, but as a chance for a new start. Give them strength to hold their faith in you, and to keep alive their joy in your creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

BCP, 829

May the Lord bless and keep you, dear children (R.,J.,R.,K.,C.,A.,A.,Z., M., and V.) and may you always hearken to the voice of the One who knows you and loves you best!

My love and prayers for you all this day,
your mother and godmother

Retro Satana!

My daughter (R.) and I were studying Latin together today. (That is one of the perks of homeschooling - I get to learn things along with her). The Latin program we use combines grammar, vocabulary and Latin sayings into each week's lesson. Well, the Latin saying for this week is "Retro Satana!", or "get thee behind me, Satan!" R. and I laughed out loud at the choice of this particular saying, and had fun using it throughout the day, in appropriately humorous ways, on each other. For example, when I reminded her to finish her Latin homework, she responded with "Retro Satana!", and a wink.

The saying is an abbreviation of Jesus' words taken out of Mark and John, and, according to our Latin program, is to be taken as an admonition to avoid and stand strong against temptation.

These were words I needed to hear today.

It is easy for me, at this particular time in my life, to get into an emotional "funk." My dog is still in the process dying, my rector and his wife are still leaving our parish, and the winds of change continue to blow hard in my neck of the woods right now. There is not a lot that feels solid and constant. As a result, it is hard for me not to give in to anxiety and despair over the state of current events, particularly when others in my environment are bathing, not to say drowning, in these two emotions.

Change is hard. I have never liked it. I would rather know what is going to happen in my life, how it is going to happen, and be prepared. That, of course, puts me squarely in the driver's seat and removes any room for trust and faith in God. In my humanness, I crave this kind of god-like control. It allows me to hold on to the illusion that I, by doing something, can manipulate my environment and make everything all right.

But, it is an illusion. Self-sufficiency is an illusion. I belong to God. My very existence depends upon His sustaining grace. He is not unaware of or disinterested in the happenings in my life, nor is He allowing the events to unfold in ways that will be ultimately injurious to my spiritual health. But the process might hurt. It might feel (DOES FEEL!) out of control and scary.

It is in these moments that I have a choice to make: Do I give in to the fear and need for control, or do I fall back into the arms of my loving Savior, trusting in Him to work in these events for my good? The temptation to seize control, and make myself "feel better" by doing something, is great.

So, at this moment, as events in my life seem out of control, I utter "Retro Satana!", and pray that I have the faith to trust in God and not give way to anxiety and despair.