It's been a couple months. It hasn't been an easy couple of months. There have been a number of funerals in my congregation. My birthday was in there. First birthday since my dad passed. I kept waiting for him to call. It was one of the things I could always count on on my birthday. I would get another year older and my dad would call. Obviously, he didn't call. I did ok until the day was almost over and it really sunk in that there wouldn't be a call. At that point I was not ok. My heart hurt... a lot. I felt cheated. I wanted to yell and scream. I wanted to cry. Instead, I was quiet. I was not ok with being not ok. It's hard to be not ok because there are a lot of expectations out there. I came up with all sort of reasons as to why I shouldn't be not ok. I didn't want to upset Lucas. I didn't want to cry because when I do, it's ugly crying... I mean, it's not pretty. It seemed like I shouldn't cry because that's not what my dad would want. The list went on. The end result was that I convinced myself I was ok even when I wasn't. Christmas was in there too. That is naturally a really busy time for our family. Two pastors. Multiple big services. Preparation. Nerves. On top of that, this was the first Christmas Lucas was really excited about it. He had been really looking forward to all of it and for pastors kids Christmas can be... different. We "put out" cookies and milk at 2 in the afternoon on Christmas eve because mommy and daddy would be gone until late that night. A dear babysitter put him to bed on an exciting night. A lot of people time for this introvert and being awake 2-3 hours past bedtime. It was a really, really chill day. Didn't make it to see my family. We needed Christmas to be our little family and then my mom had to go right back to work after Christmas so it was a phone greeting. I missed my dad, mom, uncle, nephew, sisters... I just wanted to go and get a hug from my mom and listen to stories about my nephew's senior year. I wasn't ok... but again I convinced myself that it was important I be ok. Before Christmas and before my birthday was Thanksgiving. We were supposed to go see my family for Thanksgiving and have dinner with my mom, uncle, nephew and sister and niece and nephew. I was really looking forward to it. It was going to be the first time I saw them since we had the visitation for my dad. I was beginning to feel like I could breathe again. Until then I had almost felt like I had been holding my breath. Trying to get through the next thing and the next. As happens in life another saint from my church passed away and the funeral was right after Thanksgiving. I needed to be there for my church family. Which meant I didn't see my blood family. It was a hello and happy thanksgiving over the phone with the promise that I would see them soon. David, Lucas and I still celebrated together, but at least part of the day was dedicated to preparing to remember the life of a church family member who had passed to the church triumphant. My heart ached. I kept my breath held and told myself it would be ok. After all, this was only the first time plans with my family had been canceled. There was still plenty of time left in the year... I told myself I was ok. I wasn't. Then, one day shortly after that, I had my Spotify playlist on when I was taking a shower, as I normally do. I had just added some songs onto it and hadn't really thought too much about this. When, what felt out like out of nowhere, the song "Drink a Beer" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM5aW83L_DE) comes on and I find myself sobbing in the shower. That song makes me think of my dad so much. If my dad was turned into a song, I think it would be that song. I calmed down and convinced myself, once more, that I was ok. You see, I still hadn't really had a big cry or "breakdown" since my dad passed. I kept finding reasons that I shouldn't... Then David and I were watching the show "The Ranch." So, if my dad were a show, it would be that one. But, of course, I didn't think of that. I just thought it was nice to see it back. When at the end of a particularly fraught episode with reconciliation, healing, and a dad's life saved... I found myself, well, as I put it "over-reacting crying" or as David would say "grieving." This shook me up. I was ok. I had convinced myself that I was ok... But clearly my reaction to this show told me I was not ok. I went to see my therapist and told her about this. I told her how ridiculous it was that I had such an emotional reaction to a TV SHOW for Pete's sake. It was a show... it was a song... (I swear, I have gone to school to be a pastor, I have taken courses in grief and emotional baggage and such) But when you're in the midst of your own grief sometimes you don't remember your training. See, I would tell anyone else that it was completely ok to cry. It was a normal part of the grieving process and everyone grieves differently. There is nothing shameful in crying. There's nothing weak about missing a loved one. I know all of this. I believe this. When my son comes to me crying I don't tell him to "man up" or "stop crying." I comfort him, I tell him it's ok to be sad. I want him to be able to have a healthy emotional spectrum... After going over all this with my therapist she then asked me why I didn't show myself this same grace. I bet you can guess, I didn't have a good answer for that. My directions following that session were to let myself realize that it was ok to not be ok and to allow myself the freedom and grace to experience my emotions... Well, as you've read, I didn't really do so well with this. Here I was... not ok, but convincing myself that I was ok... And beating myself up because I wasn't ok but I wanted to be... beating myself up because I was failing at doing what my therapist tasked me with... at least allowing myself to acknowledge and feel what I was feeling. As a perfectionist who has a tendency toward people pleasing... I was kind of more of a mess. Interspersed in all of this was our continuation of working on our adoption paperwork and profile. That is a whole 'nother blog post though. Just know that it was not my favorite thing ever. My grief only intensified over the months... We lost quite a few dear saints from my church. These were people who were close to my heart and the heart of my congregation. Some were expected, others not so much. They all tore at my heart a little more. I was honored to walk with their families through this process. Yet, I wasn't allowing myself the chance to go through it. Something had to change. Because now, getting out of bed each day was becoming harder, a little bonus treat from my depression. The circles under my eyes seemed like they were getting worse and worse. My eating habits took an absolute dive-bomb as I ate every feeling that came through my life. Which means I felt even worse since what I was putting in my body wasn't helping me to feel good. I was sleeping but not well. I was waking up unrested. I would get to the end of a day and be exhausted to my bones. Many nights I fell asleep in my chair and David would have to wake me up to go to bed, so I was missing that important time with my husband. I looked in the mirror and I hated what I saw. I wasn't ok. I really, really wasn't ok. I was at a point that my pain felt palpable. I needed to grieve. I needed to be sad. I needed to be ok with not being ok. And I needed to let grace win. It's not as easy as it sounds, my friends. It was hard. It was a fight. There was a lot of retraining my brain in how I understood my own emotions. I didn't get it right the first time most of the time... I didn't even get it right the second or third times. Thankfully, I have an amazing partner in David, a partner who kept reminding me that I was in a safe place to be not ok. A partner who smiled gently when I fought against the grief that was washing over me. A partner who showed me grace, over and over again, letting it be ok for me not to be ok.
And then I re-read one of my absolute favorite quotes: "Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living the heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful." - L.R. Knost I read that and it was like all at once that breath that I had been holding whooshed out of me. I was lightheaded for a moment and then I breathed in and back out and all that I had been holding for months came out. It was ugly and it was terrible and it was beautiful and it was real. It was cathartic. I want to say that it was the moment that "fixed" me. That made me completely and irrevocably ok with not being ok. It wasn't. It has helped. David has helped. The grace of my congregation has helped. The love of my God has helped. But I'm far from having this done pat and I'm not close to perfect. But, that's part of this beautiful, ridiculous, heartbreaking life. It's ok to not be perfect. It's ok to mess up. And it's ok to not be ok. One day I'll fully live into this... but for now... I continue to gracefully stumble through this life, trusting in the mercy of God and the love of family and friends.
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In the early hours of August 31 my dad passed from this life to the church triumphant. He had been in the hospice unit less than 24 hours. I truly believe he was just ready to go. He had been battling a host of progressive illnesses for four years, he had been in the hospital a good three of those four years. Towards the end he was constantly fighting for air and he was in pain almost constantly. He never wanted to live that way. I think that when he finally made the decision to accept hospice care he finally was able to let go and rest. I will miss him something fierce. But, as I've mourned and missed him already, I realize that there is so much I learned from him. Dad teaching #1: Don't underestimate the value of silence If you ever met my dad you would know that he was not a man of many words. Never one for offering a lengthy discourse, his rule of thumb was that you should communicate what you need in the minimum number of words possible. This, of course, could be frustrating if you wanted to have a deep conversation or really plumb the depths of his feelings. My dad found a lot of rest and peace in quiet or just having music or the tv on as background noise. It allowed him to think through other things while he read the paper or had a cigarette. Silence was restorative to my dad. What it also did was made it so that when he did speak it meant people were more apt to listen because he did so infrequently. He loved John Wayne and Clint Eastwood and I believe he really adopted Theodore Roosevelt's theory of "speak softly and carry a big stick." Silence was not something to fear or avoid. It didn't mean that anything was lacking. Silence was just that, silence. Dad's teaching #2: Silence will often invite others to speak, you should listen. What a dad who loved silence taught me as a little girl was that my dad was always there to listen to me. For a young Robyn there was nothing more inviting than a listening ear. Because of his quiet nature I found myself regularly seeking him out to pour out all of my inner thoughts, feelings, hopes, dreams and fears. He taught me how to shoot pool on the pool table in our basement. I was never very good but I was always asking him to go and shoot pool with me. Dad figured out pretty quickly that it wasn't me actually wanting to shoot pool. What that time meant for me was that he was going to turn on the radio to either country or oldies, he was going to roundly beat me at pool, and while all that was going on, I was going to tell him every thought that went through my mind. We would spend hours in the basement shooting pool. This was what we did when I needed to figure out something going on in my head. Whether it was if I had a crush on a boy at school (don't you know that dad's LOVE hearing about their daughter's love lives), or my complaints about classes, or when I couldn't figure out why my friend and I were having a fight. I could find endless ways to fill the silence my dad left for me. And this wasn't just empty chatter. While he never really gave advice, my dad did listen to what I was saying and he would ask questions or make simple statements, and that would be enough for me to start working through it on my own. Dad just seemed to know that what I needed more than sage advice or a thousand words responding to or dissecting my train of thought was someone who genuinely heard what I was saying and acknowledged my experience as reality. Dad's teaching #3: Timing, while not everything, matters My dad was laid back. He would go with the flow and what my mom or my siblings or I wanted was generally fine for him. But he knew exactly when to use the timing of something to work for him if he needed it to. The favorite story I have about my dad's timing is when he proposed to my mom. I wasn't a glimmer in anyone's eye at this point, so I wasn't there for this, but I heard the story enough. My mom was lying on the couch of her house, sicker than a dog and just absolutely miserable. Dad, God love him, apparently decided that this was as good a time as any to ask her a big question. He got down on one knee next to her by the couch and asked her to marry him. I won't keep you in suspense, she said yes. There could possibly have been a better time to propose but the time he did choose made for a memorable story that is still fun to tell. Dad's teaching #4: Hard-work is important but it can have a cost Dad was a hard-working man. His whole life he worked with his hands at different manufacturing plants. Before that he was in the air force. Before that he loved helping on his dad's farm. Hard-work was important and it was just a part of life. It wasn't something to shy away from and it would build character. Although there could be a cost with hard-work. My dad lost a couple fingers in the work he did. But it never stopped him from continuing to do what needed to be done. My dad didn't work because he wanted to be rich. In fact, my dad would tell me that he grew up poor and he was completely fine always being poor, but that he needed to make sure that he had enough to take care of his family. Dad didn't have a use for tons of money, never understood why people thought it was going to make them happy. He would just as happily wear his jeans until they were no longer covering everything appropriately, and that's after patching with duct tape (a habit my mom broke him of, finally). My dad's hands were rough. You could tell his hands hand been busy his whole life. I remember when I had my tonsils out (and ended up having strep throat during the surgery so I had to stay in the hospital longer), my dad came up after work and held my hand and would rub it and at first I protested because his hands were so warm and rough, but then, it struck me that it was just who he was. That was how I knew it was my dad. Dad teaching #5: It is ok to unapologetically love your pets. If you asked my dad, any of the pets that were ever in our homes were not his pets. They were my mom's or my siblings or mine or my uncle's. Yet, he could always be seen giving them some extra pettings or ear scratches when he thought no one was watching. Dad would try and claim that the animals hated him but in reality they just loved playing with him. It would bring him no end of delight to pretend to scare the cat only to see the cat come right back to do it all again. Finally, after he retired, he got HIS dog. Rosie. She waited for him when he would leave and stayed by his side. She had her dog bed in the kitchen by where he would sit and he loved to spoil her. Rosie became a BIG dog and my dad just adored her. She was his baby and he treated her as such and did so with no care to what anyone else thought. Dad's teaching #6: There are hundreds of ways to say I love you without using those words. As I mentioned, my dad wasn't one for many words. He would tell me he loved me. But there was a plethora of ways he showed me he loved me and others without saying the words. Whether it was telling me to be careful when I was driving anywhere or to keep out of trouble, I knew what was underneath it was his love for me. Quite regularly he would tell my nephew, who received his motorcycle from my dad, "don't do anything stupid on that bike, y'hear?" It might have been something like telling me what to watch out for when going out to do something. You don't need to use the specific words in order to let someone know they are loved by you. Dad's teaching #7: Don't be afraid to dance because of what other people might think I've always been self-conscious. It's not one of my finer traits that I worry a lot about what other people might think. My poor dad experienced this with me most strongly when he took me to a father daughter dance when I was in second or third grade. We got all dressed up, took all the obligatory pictures, and then went to the dance. I was fine as we walked around and looked at decorations and got some punch. As soon as he suggested we start to dance and went to the dance floor, I froze up and started to cry and ran to the girl's bathroom. Well, there wasn't a whole lot he could do while I was in there crying so he just waited outside. When I finally came out and told him through sniffles that I was scared about what other people would say about me since I didn't know how to dance. My dad just laughed and shook his head and told me to not pay attention to other people but to just focus on dancing the way that felt right to me, and then proceeded to let me step all over his feet while trying to dance and making me laugh the whole time. I'm proud to say that there was not a similar incident when he came to my father daughter dance for my sorority at college. We had a great night with no hiding in the bathroom to cry. Dad's teaching #8: Beware of seasickness but also know what causes it So, my great indoors-woman-ness (patent pending) was not inherited from my dad. In fact, he loved everything outdoors, whether it was camping, fishing, sitting out on the porch, going to the farm, digging in the dirt, etc. If he could have spent all his life outside he would have. Yet, somehow he ended up with me.... When I was younger he made the wise investment in a camper, figuring that it was the best of both worlds. You know, my mom and I could still enjoy the luxuries of being indoors while being technically in the outdoors. Now, while I may not like the outdoors, the one thing I did pick up from my dad was a love of fishing. I really enjoy fishing, it might be my introverted nature and the typical quiet that accompanies fishing, but I LOVED going to the lake at the campground to fish with my dad. One day he got particularly enthusiastic and rented a boat to take out on the lake and took my brother with him first. It didn't last long though as they came back because my brother was fighting some pretty extreme seasickness. Well, I decided it was then my turn, but not before we stopped at the little campsite store and bought and ice cream cone. So, my dad is navigating our boat out onto the water and I am eating away at my ice cream cone. About halfway out I pipe up: "Oh no! I must have seasickness!" and promptly continued to eat my ice cream. I had no idea what it meant to be seasick, I just overheard that Scott had it and so it must just be something you get when going out on a boat. Dad loved to tell that story and got the biggest laugh every time remembering the fact that I convinced myself to be seasick mid-ice cream cone. Moral of the story, know what something is before you claim to have it. Dad teaching #9: Swimming underwater works better when all of you makes it under the water What I think was my dad's favorite story to tell about me was how he had to teach me to swim underwater. He would always tell people how great a swimmer I was and how sad he was that I gave it up when I went to high school. He was particularly proud of my backstroke and how graceful it was. Apparently my back stroke was so good I could even beat him in a race. (Which is a feat considering I was about 4' something to his 6'4). Yet, there was one type of stroke that eluded me. That would be swimming underwater. I declared to him that I was so proud of myself because I could finally swim underwater. Of course, being excited for me he asked me to show him. And I would have told you that I showed him the most graceful, lovely, picture-perfect underwater swimming that had ever existed.... Until I came up from under the water to see him doubled over laughing hysterically. Apparently, my beautiful stroke was lacking in the fact that all of me, except for my butt, was underwater. So, there was this upside-down V going along across the pool for all I was worth, butt firmly in the air above the water. This was, unfortunately, not an easy habit to break me of. Dad just couldn't seem to get through to me that my butt was not actually under the water. Finally he had the great idea that there needed to be some kind of incentive in order for me to get my booty down under the water. He started throwing quarters down to the bottom of the pool and telling me to go get them and that whichever ones I was able to retrieve I got to keep. Well, having learned a bit about being thrifty from him, I found my incentive to get down underwater completely and totally. It took a total of about $2.75 for me to learn this skill. Dad teaching #10: A look can say way more than any words you can choose
My mom and dad perfected their punishment routine at home. My mom was the one who would express with words just what you had done wrong, why they were disappointed, what you could have done instead, and what the punishment would be. She is not quite as sparse in using words as my dad. So, we would sit at the kitchen table while my mom informed us of the error in our ways. But my dad never said a word during these times. He didn't have to. Instead, he would stand in the doorway with his arms crossed across his chest and give us "the look." It is hard to describe the look. It was a combination of narrowed eyes, something between a frown and a scowl, eyebrows doing the angry slanty thing, and a posture that says: "you done messed up." Many times if we were acting up he didn't have to say a single word. We would all simply see him give us "the look" and we'd shape up. My mom never understood it, but it was all communicating way more efficiently than any words he could have said. I know there are hundreds of more things my dad taught me through my life. (An honorable mention might be that there is a time and place for "sentence enhancers.") And I hope that one day I can pass on to Lucas, and if we're blessed with baby girl, the lessons of life that my dad taught me and that I can do them with a smirk and smile and a laugh that says, don't take yourself so seriously. What I know for sure is that I will miss him deeply but I know that he is finally free from the pain and suffering he endured and that we will meet again at the great feast. I love you Dad. Today was an exciting day in our household. The social worker that is overseeing our adoption process came for visit three of three and at the end told us that she intends to approve us to enter into the waiting parents pool. This is a huge day for us because it's the day that tells us all the hard work, interviews, questioning, etc has reached a point where we can, hypothetically, at any point receive the phone call that tells us a birth mother has chosen us to make an adoption plan with. Before she and her intern arrived today David and I were nervous. We had a lot of energy bouncing around and we were fidgeting, cleaning, finding spots and fuzz. I posted to Facebook asking for prayers for the visit. Prayers and well-wishes poured in. I am so grateful for the cloud of witnesses and saints that surround us with their love, support and prayers. Following the visit I shared that the social worker said she had no qualms about approving us. Again, congratulations and celebrations followed. In both, though, there were the supportive questions of "did you really have any doubts that it would work out?" The short answer to that question is yes, yes, we were actually nervous about the home study. There's a longer answer though. If you're satisfied with the simple yes, now's the time to click onto another page or check out this adorable video of puppies playing with toys. However, if you're interested in the longer explanation, still watch the video because, seriously, adorable, but then keep reading! Well, hi there seekers of the longer explanation! I hope you enjoyed the adorable puppies. (Seriously... if you didn't watch it... go back right now!) I'm going to walk you through what the process would be like if you were going to go through it while trying to conceive naturally. I want you to imagine that you and your partner decide that it's time that you'd like to conceive and as you start to go to the bedroom, you have to stop and answer a bunch of questions as a preliminary screening. Basically names, address, basic financials, places of employment, members of your family, who lives in your house, etc. Assuming you answer those questions well you actually make it into the bedroom. Huzzah! Nothing more to worry about, right? You wish. It actually is just starting to get awkward. As you are getting intimate with your partner someone who is a stranger to you comes in and tells you that you need to go through an orientation in order to properly proceed through the process and then decide if you would like to continue. Right. So, if you manage to keep going after the pre-application and the couple hour long orientation, you're still not ready. You are now instructed to complete the formal application, but once you have completed that, the state has a ruling that you only have 90 days from the time you submit that application to getting in all the of the required paperwork and complete the 3 home study visits, so you have to make sure that when you submit that application you feel confident you have the kind of time available to really commit to completing this first part of the process. So, not stressed yet, right? Still feeling pretty confident that you're going to make it through with no problems? If so, good for you! If not, just wait. Next, as you and your partner, once again, try to become intimate, your room starts getting more crowded. In order to complete this application and this process you have to start inviting some other people in. You need to invite your employer in because they will be contacted to make sure that is, indeed, where you work and that you make the amount of money you have said you do. You're also asked to invite at least four of your close friends who would be able to vouch for you and tell the social worker that you are as awesome as you are claiming you are and that you have a strong relationship and you should be trusted with kids. So, once your employers and friends are there, you need to make sure that you can recite the birthdays, ages, and health statuses of your families. Is your room getting crowded yet? Better make some room because you also need to have your doctors present (and the doctors of any children in the house) to verify that you are healthy enough to be partaking in such an endeavor. Tell everyone to squeeze it in because you also need to invite the vet over if you have any pets so that they can verify your pet has all it's shots and is properly cared for. Make room for the police so that they can run your background checks. It means that you have to submit them for every place you've lived. ] I hope your filing cabinet is also in your bedroom because you will need to look up how much money is in your savings and checking accounts. Also, better have on hand what your balances are in any retirement accounts, any investments, etc. Do you know how much you owe on your cars? Credit cars? Student loans? If not, better get that information, too. How much remains due on your mortgage? What is the monthly payment? By the way, have you signed over your soul yet? It is possible to accidentally sign that line if you're not paying attention, so I encourage you to be careful. Speaking of finances, I sure hope you have a nice amount set away or at least have access to some funds... or maybe know where to get some low interest loans... or, I hear the black market is always looking for a few good kidneys, because adopting is not an inexpensive prospect. Add some money onto what you think it may be costing. Maybe keep going. More than $10,000 less than $40,000 with the agency we are working with. In that filing cabinet you better also have copies of your birth certificates, drivers licenses, social security cards, and other identifying information. You REALLY have to prove that you are who you say you are. Oh! Before you're able to really get started, you need to make sure that you do the appropriate education. Usually ends up being about 20-30 hours worth of education on parenting. Don't worry, there will be a question and answer portion to make sure that you actually did the assigned work. It doesn't matter whether or not you have any other children. You obviously do not know enough, so keep studying. Oh, and if you don't manage to conceive within a year, you'll have to update most of this, including education. By the by, have you discussed what it is you'd like in a child? Boy? Girl? What age? Would you like to do this locally or travel? What races would you consider? How much are you willing to consider in terms of exposure to drugs, alcohol, or possible incest? Better figure all this out before you start. While you're thinking about what you'd like to see in a child you have to make sure that you have the plan in place for what will happen to this child that is currently only a glimmer should anything happen to you and your partner. That's right, you need to figure out a plan for your not even conceived child in case of the tragic passing of both of you. Don't stay too somber. While you're compiling all this you need to be in conversation with your social worker and go over your family backgrounds, your work histories, your relationship with your partner, your relationship with your dog, your relationship with your neighbor's cousin's mother-in-law's dog... Well, not that far, but they really do study the relationships in your life. You'll have to do some inventories too in order to determine if you have any red flags in terms of mental health, that you appropriately discipline children, and that you are aware of appropriate language to use for your child rearing. This will take two really long meetings. Hey! I forgot to mention, while you're inviting people in, I hope you invited your entire social network including your workplaces. A couple reasons for this. One being logistical. If you should conceive, you'll need to have some idea of how to handle your maternity/paternity leave and your employers will want to know that you may need to have some time off. In our line of work you'll also need to be including those people who might be able to cover pastoral care and preaching duties while you're away, but without being able to give them any firm dates. The other reason to include your whole social network is because the more people you bring into the know the more the odds increase that you'll be able to conceive. Connections are everything after all. After all this, before you can really get started you need to show the social worker around your house. Hopefully you have all your outlet covers in place, everything safely away, and all that good stuff, as well as being ready to answer any last minute questions and have all your documentation of finances available.
Then, you'll need the social worker to type up a report that says, yes, you are sane, stable, loving, competent and educated enough to care for a child should you be chosen. This doesn't meant that you will conceive and be ready for a child... but this is really close to the point where you get to wait expectantly. So... If you were wondering why we might be at all concerned as to why we might not get approved, it might not be so much that we doubted our abilities or whether or not we're likeable adorable people. It's because in the midst of everything that I described above any one piece could go sideways and topple all of the dominoes we'd been so carefully setting up. That, then, is the long answer in order to say, yes, yes we actually were nervous about the home study, but there is a whole lot more than whether or not she'd like us. We appreciate and very much need the love, prayers and supports, but please understand that even things that seem simple and obvious aren't always that way for us. In 9 years of serving as a pastor I have sat at countless bedsides with people who were only in for a minor procedure all the way to sitting with people as they take their last breath. Sometimes these bedsides are at hospitals, but they are also at hospices, nursing homes, and homes. No two bedsides have ever been exactly the same but the one thing that does remain the same is that this is a holy place to be. I truly believe that the bedside is one of the places where the veil between here and the place to which we will all return is the thinnest. As I mentioned, I have sat by more bedsides than I can count. But this last month I have been traveling back and forth to Cleveland to sit at the bedside of one of my dear family members. This is the first bedside in my own family I have sat beside since I entered into ministry in quite this way. The situation was very tenuous and continues to remain unknown as to how it will go. It was still a holy time, but being on that side of being at the bedside gave me some different insights. The first is just how truly and honestly exhausting it is. Now, I knew this on an intellectual level, but I didn't remember just how physically demanding just sitting can be on a person. Spending hours in sedentary activity has a way of wearing on you in a different way than other activities. That's because stress and sorrow have a very physical effect on people and mixed with the stationary atmosphere of bedsides leads to this feeling like you've run a marathon twice over without having done much in terms of physical activity. In fact, I joked with my mom at times that my brain just didn't work anymore. I recognized that I had to ask doctors and nurses to repeat themselves because I wasn't taking in all the information the first time. It's why one of the items I list as a "must' when anyone is in the hospital is a good notebook/notepad (and a pen or pencil). It lets you write down what you hear the health professionals say, it lets you write down questions that arise in your mind which I assure you that you will not remember it later, and you know, worse case scenario, you can play a riveting game of hangman in it. Honestly, though, having something to write on that keeps all the information contained in one place, where you can put dates and times of rounds, medication changes, etc, makes the whole experience feel a little more manageable. (For people like me who need to have binders or notebooks in order to feel organized, put together and "in control" having this was super important.) The second thing I remembered (as I had somehow twisted my body to fit into a small recliner in a way I could drift off for a little bit) is that self-care is critical in times like this. It can be easy to lose yourself in caring for your loved one. In the rush of trying to make sure you don't miss this doctor or this specialist or the meal time to help them eat, it is really simple to just wear yourself down to the point you get sick. It's because we desperately want to care for our loved ones and make sure they know that we love them and when someone's sick, one of the easiest ways to do that is to be contently present. Yet, if we let ourselves get so run down that we are sick and foggy, our helpfulness begins to decline at a rampant rate. Instead, it's important to remind ourselves that sleeping in our own bed for a night is not selfish but an act of self-care. It's ok to take a longer lunch to just center yourself and let yourself breathe. If you're not up at the bedside 24/7 it does not make you a bad loved one, only a realistic one who knows their limits. Your love still is present and felt even if you are taking time to step away. A care bag is critical, in my opinion, to caring for your loved one when they are in the hospital. Now, this is a care bag for you. Make sure you include in it water, a phone charger, protein based snacks (stick cheese, etc), crackers (good for upset stomachs), a book or something to occupy yourself whether it be sudoku, knitting, etc, something sweet or that you just enjoy for those mores stressful moments, a notebook, pen/pencil, something caffeinated (soda if you have that preference), a sweater or light blanket in case you get cold, and cash (singles are always good for vending machines). A neck pillow can be helpful, too. If you are looking at hours at the hospital, you don't want to be running back and forth to your car or navigating the parking structure if it's not needed. Really, the bottom line is just be gentle with yourself. Understand that in times of stress or grief you're going to have moments where your brain just doesn't work, you're going to forget things, and you're going to say that you wish you had... (insert thing here). The ministry of presence, the holiness of presence at the bedside, is powerful not because you're perfect, but because of the love that is there between those in the room. Much like God's power is made perfect in our weakness, your presence at the bedside is made perfect in the gift of self you offer. Care for yourself and you will notice you are much better equipped to care for your loved one at the bedside. Peace be yours!
Then, we were potty training Lucas. (talk about draining... wow... he really is a stubborn one) But, hallelujah, thank you Jesus, Lucas is potty trained!!! And then there was just my delightful general depression that, whenever I'd think about writing, would say: "But, you know watching mindless tv and going to sleep early sounds way better, doesn't it?" And, really, it did. Finally, though, things have leveled out and here I am! Just in time to offer my Father's Day rant. I get so frustrated with society's slowness in catching up to the fact that men can be, and are, really good, competent, loving dads. The message that men are either cold, distant dollar earners or goofy, incompetent imbeciles is disgustingly pervasive in the media today. My mom works for drug stores stocking the greeting cards. I used to help her occasionally, and so now, any time I'm in a card department I'm subconsciously checking it out for neatness and also for what the latest cards are that have been put out. Especially around Father's Day, but also in the general dad's birthday section, the theme typically is "hahaha, you try to do things that a mom does, but you're really bad at them, so we're going to make fun of you but make it seem like an act of affection." Seriously, the next time you are in a card department take a look. You get cards like "World's Best Farter." "I think Mom is raising me just fine. Happy father's day." Others that insinuate they might as well just ask mom. You'll see just a couple of images below. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. How are we not offended for dad's at this belittling of dad's abilities to care for their children? What are we doing to the confidence of men who aren't yet fathers when we tell him throughout his life that he will not be able to be a good dad, or at least that he'll never be as good as mom? What are we telling men if we belittle the time they spend alone with their children as "babysitting?" Why, then, should he even try to be a good dad if he's doomed to fail according to what we see in society? In 2012 Huggies put out an ad. Know the premise? "To prove Huggies can handle just about anything, we put them to the toughest test imaginable: dads, alone with their babies, in one house, for five days." From commercials, to comics, to cars, to tv shows and movies, dad's are portrayed as useless, incompetent, lazy, dumb, easily outwitted guys who just aren't anywhere near as good as moms. Think Fred Flintstone, Married with Children's Al Bundy, Shameless's Frank Gallagher, Mike Heck on The Middle who is a good, but distant and univolved dad, Homer Simpson, any kids show on Nickelodeon or Disney, and even on shows like Home Improvement with Tim Taylor, a generally good dad was constantly making messes that had to be cleaned up by mom. It gets really old to see the important place dad's hold in the lives of their children relegated to cheap jokes, absent forgetful fools, or just awful. The question posed by these shows is: "What do we really need dad's for except a paycheck and an outlet for our jokes." Our dad's deserve better. If we want to encourage our sons to grow up to be well-rounded, participatory, engaged fathers (should that be their desire), we have to stop portraying them this way and start showing the wide range of fathering. My husband is an amazing partner in raising our son. I absolutely adore him and I cannot express enough how much it means to me that he wants to be an active, engaged dad to our little boy. In no way whatsoever is he incompetent. He shares the responsibilities of being a parent with me, which means that sometimes when I feel crappy, he does 95% of the child-raising, and when he's not feeling great, I do 95% of the work with Lucas. David has never said no to changing a diaper cause he didn't feel like it, he never put the diaper on backwards, he never dropped little man, never fed him expired food, never forgot him, never confused him for another child. Instead, David plays with Lucas, he makes his dinner, he helps him with learning, he shares in disciplining him, he shares taking him to doctors appointments, comes to his school conferences, puts him to bed and gets him ready in the morning, does 100% of the work if I have to be out of town, and just loves his son. My husband opens my eyes to all the ways that society still doesn't acknowledge the fact that dad's are main caregivers to children. One such way is the absolute lack of changing tables in many public restrooms. That is the trend I am seeing in dads in society. They are not bumbling idiots who don't know right from left. They are confident, compassionate, engaged, and interested parents who don't expect their partner to do all the work of raising the children while they crash out on the couch with a beer. Honestly, this involved, loving father is far more interesting to me than the bad dad ever has been. If we want our boys to grow into dads who work beside their partner in raising children we need to be intentional about portraying them in media and in our homes. That means moms, we need to be ready to hand over the responsibilities and we need to be the number one cheerleaders for the dads of our children. We need to advocate for fair treatment, equal access, and recognizing the needs of our partners for engaging with their children. To all the dads out there - Happy Fathers Day and THANK YOU! Thank you for your part in raising our children. Know that we see you and all the love you show to your littles and we are so happy to have you as partners in this important work!
It's that time of year where mothers are lifted up as the paradigm of all that is good and right and well with the world. Where gifts of jewelry, candy, breakfast in bed, and lavish luxury are touted as the end all be all of honoring and loving the woman in your life who is a mother. It's bumbling dads trying to corral a herd of unwieldy, dirty faced children wearing mismatched clothes with filthy hands into the bedroom with runny eggs, half-dead flowers, and half a glass of orange juice. What they show awaiting the mom in the kitchen is an absolute mess that for some reason will obviously be her responsibility. (This awful, irresponsible portrayal of dads will be the subject of a future post). So, even though I'm supposed to be enjoying this time that is dedicated to elevating me in all my glorious mom-hood.... (And I do mean in ALL my glory and loveliness)... Yeah... See, glorious. So even though this day is lifting the total beauty that is me... This is a very difficult time of year for me. Still. I know. I have a beautiful four year old son. I am in the process of adoption again. We are a family. I am a mom. And yet, on mother's day I still get a twinge of pain in my heart. There is a sadness that shrouds the day for me even with all of my reasons to be joyful. Somewhere in my heart I still mourn for the child that I will never be able to conceive. That child is there... in my heart. There were hundreds of futures I planned which had that child in every scene. That child was real to me. When David and I made the decision that we would no longer seek to conceive, the loss that we experienced was very real even if that child was never more than a hazy, never quite in focus dream. Because that child of my heart lived a thousand lifetimes in my mind. I saw my pregnancy, David resting his head on my belly... the birth. I saw the diaper changes, the late nights, the features that were a mix of David and me. She had his eyes... he had my nose. The poor child had the thickest hair known to mankind. He and I went on our first mommy son date. David and her went to the father daughter dance. David, his dad, and our son had an annual date to see a Steelers game together. My mom, daughter and I sat down and looked through old pictures and laughed. She came down the stairs in her prom dress, ready for this iconic night of her life. We dropped him off at college and said goodbye. I went with her to pick out her wedding dress... David sat with him the night before his wedding and shared a Guinness and the secrets of a great marriage. I watched as she was walked down the aisle by her daddy... I held my grandbaby and told him how happy I was for them... That child was real, as real as any child that has been flesh and blood. And that child had more joy, more careers, booboos, successes and failures, than any one child could have. So, yes, I still mourn the loss of what could have been even while being grateful for all the gifts that God has given us. There is an important quote that helps me at these times. "Your loss is real and your ache is not crazy." I have needed to hear this from time to time as I grieve. There are times that people really struggle to understand how we could possibly grieve someone that never came into this world. Even after explaining it. Even after sharing something that can leave my emotions raw it can still be beyond people understanding. I need to know that I am not crazy if someone else cannot understand my grief. Which means that mothers day, while still being a joyful day, can still bring with it grief, shame, and anger. Grief for what can't be. Shame because I still, at times, feel like there is something wrong with me for being unable to conceive. Anger because it can be so easy for others, because we have to go through hours of education on being parents and adoption even though we've been and done both so that we might be able to adopt.
As I get ready for mothers day I find myself in a difficult situation. I get angry when I think about the gift of God given to women who had been in similar situations. Sarah, Elizabeth, Hannah, Rebekah, Rachel and others all struggled with infertility and God remembered them and provided them with children. It feels really awkward to be mad about God giving blessings to others. I want to know why God gave them that gift and not me. Preaching and leading worship on mothers day in the past has been a mixed event for me. Before Lucas I would be aware of the lump in my throat. The tears that burned at the back of my eyes and the way I would grip the pulpit a little more tightly. Even after Lucas, I still need to stop and clear my throat and blink back some tears, because of my own grief... because of the grief that I know weighs on people in the congregation. Eventually, I recognize that God provides and oftentimes ways that don't look at all like we thought they would. My comfort, then, comes to me through an atypical Scripture passage. Isaiah 43:2- "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you." Wherever I go, whatever grief I experience, whatever anger I feel, I know that I am not alone. My God goes with me, my amazing husband goes with me, my friends go beside me, and even though I may stumble, I'm still standing. For all my sisters who struggle this mothers day, know you are seen, know you are loved, and know that even if you feel broken, hurting, or angry, you are beautiful! I dipped into the suggestions I received when I asked on Facebook what people might want me to blog about and one was "How about choosing to extend grace?" This piqued my interest tonight so here we go. One of the first things that I think of when I'm asked about grace is to explain it alongside the concept of mercy. Mercy is choosing not to punish another even when they deserve it. Grace, then, is receiving something that we don't earn or deserve. Look, there's even all sorts of pretty images on Google that put this into a nice succinct quote. In my Christian viewpoint, this is to say that "grace is when God gives us what we don't deserve and mercy is when God doesn't give us what we do deserve." To break this down: 1) As a people, we are broken. We mess up all the time. I mean, all the time. We are constantly doing things that break our relationship to God and to one another. Both of those matter because our relationship to God can give us a center and a strength. Yet, God has declared, repeatedly, that our relationship to God's self is reflected in how we care for one another here. So, when we break relationships here we break our relationship with God. We don't always do this on purpose. That's the thing about being a flawed human, we sometimes do the things we don't want or mean to do in spite of our best intentions. 2) Since we are a broken, flawed creation, God could, rightly, judge and condemn us because of our pursuit of those things that are not-God, the things that break our relationship with God and one another. We get so wrapped up in seeking the things that will create the easiest and most pleasant path forward that we don't always pay attention to how it might hurt or affect others. Because of this, God could say, "Hey... Guys... stop doing the thing... seriously. Cause if you don't stop, I'm going to punish you and you're not going to like it. (My inspiration for that wording comes from the video "Honest Preacher" which is quite possibly one of my favorite pastor parody videos ever). 2 (continued - cause I can). That's basically exactly what we tend to do... We walk up to God and go "Whoops." And God is like "Guysssss!!!! Seriously?" 3. Therefore, God is is presented with two options. Either give us what we deserve - punishment, or don't give us what we deserve - mercy. Because I believe that God is good and loving, I trust that God continues to shower us with mercy because of the great love God holds for us. 4) So, now that we know that we don't get what we do deserve (in other words, mercy), we should probably be good, right? Shouldn't mercy be enough? Well... sure... if we were content to live a life that is constantly in the state of waiting to see the result of what we have done (action --> reaction). Thankfully, God realized that all that did was make us into even more anxious monkeys. 5) So, what did God decide to do with these anxious monkeys? God knew we really struggled with living into the guide given to us for a best life in harmony with one another. This meant that all we would ever have time to do was offer up burnt offerings in order to make up for our many and varied "oopses." If all we were doing was burning up offerings because we were so worried about how much we were falling short and trying to convince God to show us mercy we really weren't living up to the other things that God really wanted us to pay attention to. That's from Micah 6:8. What does God require of us? Those three things. We do those, we are living into God's desire for the people of God. Yet, somehow, we still mess it up. Which leads to... 6) Grace. Grace is all about giving us what we don't deserve because God loves us. Such as forgiveness. Like, the ultimate forgiveness through Christ's death on the cross. This freed these anxious monkeys from our cyclical routine of messing up, going to God and saying "oops" and then offering a burnt offering. Rinse... repeat. Instead, God said, "All right... I'm gonna simple this up a bit. I forgive you. Through the sacrifice of Christ to overcome death and the grave, you don't have to worry about all those burnt offerings and stuff. That means you can circle back to acting justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God." 7) Guess what...? We still mess up. I mean, Jesus simplified it even more for us. "Love God, love one another." That's it. And we still can't get that right. Guyyyysssss.... you're making me look bad in front of God. Just kidding. I'm just as guilty of this as anyone else. I struggle with snap judgments, withholding forgiveness, anger, bitterness, unkind words, etc. 8) So... what then? Are we just supposed to cross our fingers and hope that we stay on the good side of luck and God? What exactly is our responsibility if we know going into it we aren't going to be able to live up to it? We offer extravagant grace as often as we are able. One example I've given my congregation before is when people come to me asking for help. A lot of these people will have their story ready to go as soon as you take a breath because they know if they don't get it out the likelihood of help, or even just having someone listen, go down dramatically. Yes, it is quite possible that I am being taken advantage of by some of these people. I do my best to verify if the need is valid since I have access to limited funds and I want to use them responsibly. But, most of the time there really isn't any way to verify a story and then what is there to do? Offer grace. Abundant and extravagant grace. Help as I am able without demanding anything in return. Why? Why give the benefit of the doubt? Why help when there is a likelihood you are being taken advantage of? Why put myself out there? We do it because it is a response to the extravagant grace we have received from God. I serve a God who is all about unmerited grace and forgiveness and second, third, and fourth chances. If, in all of my messed up brokenness, God can see something beautiful and worth saving and forgiving and loving, I can see something beautiful and worth saving, loving and forgiving in others. One of my favorite Christian songs - At the Foot of the Cross by Kathryn Scott. Some of my favorite lyrics are: "At the foot of the cross, where grace and suffering meet, you have shown me your love... Now I can trade these ashes in for beauty and wear forgiveness like a crown." We are given every opportunity to dust off the ash and brokenness of our lives through the love, grace and mercy of God. When we wear forgiveness like a crown we cannot help but offer that same forgiveness and grace to others as they come before us. Not because it's going to earn us any more stars in our crowns or because we're afraid of getting in trouble, but because we have seen such incredible and beautiful love and grace from God that we can't help but share it with others.
Extravagant grace. Unmatched mercy. Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly. Wear forgiveness like a crown and know you are loved. Earlier in April we tried to take a legit vacation. My bestie Erika, her husband Tony, and their little girl Emily, had reserved a cabin in Gatlinburg for all of us to get together. I was really excited because it has been way, way too long since we've seen each other. I've never gotten to meet her tiny human! Then, our little man decided, at the last minute, to get sick. And passed some of it to me, and some of it to David, and it was decided that it was not something to share with my bestie and her family. This means that we ended up with a stay-cation. Now, stay-cations are the norm for us. We haven't taken an "official" vacation really ever, so this was going to be a true first for us. Yet, even our stay-cations have always been very scheduled. David and I have always been very tied to our calendars. We like living by a schedule, knowing exactly where, when and why we are going to be anywhere. It's how we live the rest of our lives, it makes sense that it would follow to our vacation personalities. Google calendar has been a true godsend to our lives as it allows us to update our shared schedules in real time so we know where the other person is, where we are supposed to be, where Lucas needs to be, who needs to get him to or from somewhere, and all of this is online so that we can both reference it from our phones. The little organizer in me rejoices in this beautiful system. Both of us function with the basic belief that to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is unforgivable. Well, maybe not unforgivable but you get the idea. I actually prefer to be early anywhere I'm going. It has gotten to the point that sometimes I arrive so early that I find somewhere to park to wait until it's closer to the arrival time. It stresses me out a whole bunch to be anywhere near late, especially when it's something work related. My stomach does flip flops if I show up only 5 minutes early. Therefore, parenthood was definitely an adjustment for us. Not everything ran according to our timetable (from birth on). Yet, God graced us with a son who, mostly, cooperates and even follows our crazy schedules. (Except, of course, for when he gets sick, but that's neither here nor there.) Imagine heavenly choirs singing in great joy as this light appears coming from our Google calendar app every time we open it. That's what it feels like for me. I just shiver in delightful anticipation of checking my calendar and seeing where I intend to be. Of course, with my calling as a pastor this of course has to be flexible, but even the unexpected gets put on the calendar as soon as I'm aware of it (even if it may be after the fact). All of this, then, leads back to our most recent stay-cation. After our trip to Gatlinburg ended up not happening we had no plans on the books. Once we got to feeling better, we decided to play each day by ear. Going and doing whatever felt fun or enjoyable or life-giving. If we wanted to sleep in (as much as Lucas allows us, i.e. 6:30 a.m.) we did. If we wanted to go out to eat somewhere, we did. If we thought going to the indoor bounce playland at the mall was going to be great, we did. Ice cream? Let's do it. Renting a movie from Amazon Prime just because we can? Did it. Y'all.... I'm telling you... this was a spiritual experience for us. It was freeing and I felt like a wild woman living life on the edge. Well, as much on the edge as I really ever live. Honestly, I relate to the above image on a deep level. I have questions. And I want to know when we're leaving, when we expect to arrive, where we're going, what are we doing when we get there, etc, etc, etc. (Oh, and there should definitely be food). So, upon recklessly abandoning our calendar during vacation something absolutely mind-blowing, world rocking, reality altering happened.... Wait for it... Wait for it... Keep waiting... Ok, I realize I'm not that interesting so I'll tell you. We almost missed an appointment we had made! We had arranged having coffee with someone and it wasn't until I had received a text on my way home with Lucas from the person saying: "I'm on my way" that I went: "Oh my gosh! We have an appointment!" I got home and said to David: "We're supposed to have coffee!" Thankfully, I had arranged for a sitter who happened to be running just a few minutes behind. We slid in sideways to our appointment all sorts of flustered. But afterwards... oh friends... afterwards... we felt like the biggest rebels that ever existed. We were glorious. There was chaos everywhere. Lucas was running on the ceiling, Chloe was hanging out with a pup from the wrong side of the tracks, David and I may have even had a second glass of wine... Just kidding. We didn't even have a first glass of wine. But we did feel like rebels. One of the things David said to me was "So... there are people who live their whole lives like this?" And we pondered this for longer than I care to admit. Although, we did finally acknowledge that there was something truly freeing in almost missing an appointment. Because the realization that came to me was that the world would not truly end should I be late. Have I completely changed my way of functioning? Am I now employing a laissez faire attitude toward all of life, living willy nilly from moment to moment? No. Not even a little. Sorry not sorry if that comes as a disappoint to you, but it should not really be a surprise. While I will ever and always be a Martha, I had a WHOLE lot of fun masquerading as a Mary for a few days. (Synopsis of the Scriptural story: Jesus stops in unannounced at Mary & Martha's house. Martha does all the stuff, cleaning, cooking, making sure everything is tip top. Mary sits at Jesus' feet and listens to him. Martha says, "Come on Jesus, tell Mary to help me already!" Jesus declares that Mary has chosen the better part. Seriously... Read it here: www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Luke+10%3A38-42&version=NRSV.) So, yeah. For a few days over an unexpected stay-cation, David and I lived the wild life of people who disconnected from their calendars and their rigid schedules and went for a walk on the wild side that leads to almost missing appointments.
But, in all seriousness, I did recognize that it might be a little healthier for me if I do let myself be a little less scheduled and a little more free-flowing with my time, especially our time off. We'll see how I do. For now, I am even more looking forward to our next stay-cation where I can experience more of this crazy little thing called, "no schedule." Didja miss me? Sorry to deprive you of my stellar wit and delightful personality for so long. But as is typical whenever someone chooses to put themselves out there, especially in such a public forum, in addition to the lovely, supportive comments I received there were also some cruel, negative comments which made me stop and consider if I wanted to continue blogging. As you're reading this post perhaps you've figured out that I have decided to continue. I really missed blogging and find a lot of joy in doing this, so hopefully you also find joy in reading it. So, the gist of the negative feedback I got was: "This stuff is too personal to be sharing as a a blog." "This is inappropriate for a pastor." "People will not feel comfortable coming to you because they know you have depression and don't want to hurt your feelings." So, I thought through all of this. Yes, I understand that for some people they might feel as though what I am sharing is too personal and is like "airing dirty laundry." Here's how I see it though, it's my laundry to choose whether or not to air it. I am choosing to share my stories because I have the hope that maybe someone, somewhere, will benefit from what I have experienced. As for whether or not it is appropriate for a pastor, I believe it is, trusted colleagues and guides have shared with me their support, and many other pastors have blogs. I feel confident it is within the realm of appropriateness. Finally, I truly hope that no one feels unable to come to me because of my depression. I am a professional in addition to being a regular person. There are many, many people who are able to do their jobs while having depression. It's important to remember that depression is different than just being sad or having hurt feelings. It is a lot about how the brain works including imbalanced chemicals in the brain, faulty mood regulation by the brain, genetic vulnerability, stressful life events, medications, and medical problems. It's believed that several of these forces interact to bring on depression. This often means that even though two people may have the same type of depression, the things going on inside causing it may be completely different and therefore need completely different methods of treatment. If you like science-y stuff this is a good, detailed page that describes how complex depression is: www.health.harvard.edu/mind-and-mood/what-causes-depression Separate from my depression, though, I am fully capable of separating any hurt feelings I might have from my ability to provide pastoral care. Because here's the reality, pastors are professionals and normal humans all rolled into one. I have feelings and emotions and even illnesses just like any other person. But I also have all the requisite training for my profession to be able to work through these things and to not let my feelings impact how I choose to give pastoral care. I love my congregation, my people, and I fully understand and genuinely believe that people are completely capable of disagreeing and still caring for one another. Which all led to the title for this post: "life in the spotlight." While there are plenty of professions that place people in the spotlight, my most direct experience is through my profession as a pastor (obviously). I believe that it is amplified in a two pastor household and I hope for Lucas and eventual baby girl's sakes, that it's not quadrupled for them. So, here is a brief story about my mom's best friend's husband (did you follow that? If not, check the infographic below) My mom's best friend's husband, we called him Uncle Rev, was a Missouri Synod Lutheran pastor. He and his wife had a brood of children. (In case you're unsure of what constitutes a brood, it's more than 5 and less than a bakers dozen). And in that brood there were A LOT of boys. Uncle Rev and Auntie Laverne lived next door to his congregation with their brood that contained many boys. One evening, late at night, there is a knock on their door and it is the police wanting to let him know that there were reports of noise in the basement of the church and they wanted him to go over with them to check it out. Turns out that those noises were those boys from their brood playing basketball in the basement of the church. I know this story even though it happened before I had been born because my mom loved to tell it. But it was also very public in that it was in the police blotter since the police had to report to the church on this call. That means that it was in the congregation. Which means that Uncle Rev, Auntie Laverne, and their brood heard this story over and over, and it means that the congregation kept this story alive and offered their own perspectives and opinions on it for years. Sometimes there might be feelings of Big Brother watching... All of this is to say that pastors and their families often find themselves in the spotlight, whether or not that's where they desire to be. By the very nature of our calling our lives become open to public scrutiny and we are often held to much higher standards than other people. And because we live in a society that watches very closely and has much easier access to the lives of others, those eyes don't go away. Funny story on how much we can be in the public eye. At my first call we lived in the parsonage (the house right next to the church). It was a beautiful home in a farming community outside of the town. It was on a country road that had a speed limit of around 45 mph - 55 mph. Our home had a lovely picture window that looked out onto our spacious front lawn and this country road. Just shortly after we had moved in and were sitting in our living room watching tv with our dog, Chloe, with our picture window curtains open, a car was driving by, slowed down to about 10 mph and the person in the car stared in through our window. It wasn't anyone we knew or came to know, but when the church's house's window is open, it is an invitation to check out what the pastor and family are up to. I love this shirt. Granted, as an ELCA pastor, I believe that we are simultaneously saint and sinner, but this shirt just makes me smile every time. It's such a reminder that even though I may be a pastor I am still just an ordinary person with flaws and fears and trials. I'm not any better than anyone else. Often this calling asks pastors to put more of themselves into what they are doing - sermons, pastoral care, articles that have been written. Aggressive criticism can feel like a direct assault to our personhood. (Again, though, this is all gone over in seminary as we prepare to live into this calling and we learn to differentiate ourselves). Honestly, this can apply to most of the in the public eye positions in a congregation (musicians, Sunday school teachers, Bible study teachers, etc). A note here on the difference between criticism and critique: Criticism - finds faults, intentionally seeks what is lacking, condemns what it doesn't understand, is spoken with a cruel wit and sarcastic tongue, negative, vague/general, seeks flaws with the person as much as the product. Critique - looks for both flaws and positives, finds what is working, asks for clarification, is kind, honest, and objective, is positive (even about things that are working), is concrete and specific, addresses only the product and not the producer. Add to this being a couple that has chosen to seek adoption as the way to grow our family, even our family planning becomes public property. Conventional couples don't tend to share with their employers that they are actively trying to get pregnant. That's usually a pretty private affair. Even after conception, it's typical to not widely share the news of the pregnancy until about the end of the first trimester. For couples seeking adoption, unlike pregnancies, there's not always a way to predict the timing of the birth since sometimes the call comes in that the birth mother/birth father have chosen you and the baby is already here. So, this involves keeping the church council and the congregation updated as to where we are in the process because they may receive a call that we have a baby. In my own personal experience it feels like bringing the board of directors and entire company in on the fact that we are trying to conceive. There are more reasons why David and I choose to share that we are seeking to adopt with our church families, but that is for a different post. Really, this whole post really comes down to asking that kindness be your instinct in responding to others. Kindness does not have to mean agreement, again disagreement can still exist between people who care for one another. Kindness means thinking through your responses before offering them.
Again, you can disagree and have different points of view than another person and still care for them. (I can't emphasize this point enough.) There are enough things in this world ready to bring us down and tear us apart and try to extinguish that light within us. We differentiate ourselves by nurturing and caring for that light in one another so that it grows.
And for all of you who find yourselves in the spotlight, whether or not you desire it, please know I see you, I love you, I respect you, and I admire you. So. This is Holy Week. Probably one of the most intense weeks in the life of a pastor, not to mention in a two pastor household. This week between David and myself we will lead 10 services between Thursday through Sunday. This means that we don't see a whole lot of each other during this time. It means that Lucas doesn't get to see a lot of us during this time. Holy week means that we seek the easiest possible meals to prepare because we're just wiped out. It means that as much as I love holy week it can be difficult for me to actually worship. This means that my brain is kind of one step above mush. Therefore, this post probably won't be all that deep or meaningful. Someone asked what it is like to be a pastor mom married to another pastor. One of the ways that I can express what this is what holy week is like. It's really hard to feel like a good mom during weeks like this because of the amount of time I am away from home. By the time Sunday ends Lucas will have spent A LOT of time with babysitters. My guess is that he will be asking for me and David. Although he loves his sitters there is nothing like mommy and daddy for little man. I particularly think that Sunday is going to be tough for little man. Sunday morning I have a sunrise service at 6:30 am. (This means that I'll get to church around 5:30 am, which means waking up about 4:45.) This also leaves David on his own with Lucas. A Lucas who he will have to get up and out the door by 6:40 so that he can drop him at my church by 6:45 so that he can get to his church for their services. All of this means that by the time things are wrapped up at my church (probably around 12:45) poor Lucas will have been at church for 6 hours. (Poor Sophie, too). 6 hours at church for a 4 year old means that he will likely be less than happy after being woken up early and leaving early without our normal routine, which means a less than nice pre-schooler. This usually includes tantrums, yelling, screaming, running, etc. Which isn't always met with understanding or joy by everyone. It makes it hard for me to feel like a very good mommy when I know my son is falling into grumpy territory and there isn't a whole lot I can do to help him find his calm. So, yeah, holy week offers quite the challenge to the mommy side of my mommy/pastor identity. The mommy guilt kicks in pretty intensely. In addition to this mommy guilt about being absent from my son and putting my son through hours of church that is a little beyond his patience, we also probably will not celebrate Easter with him until Monday. I mean, we'll attempt it Sunday afternoon, but by the time we take our all family nap time, have a snack, and generally start to feel human again, having an Easter egg hunt and baskets is kind of unlikely. Therefore, we probably will do that fun on Monday. This is probably the last year we'll be able to get away with it. I'm not sure what to do at that point but we'll figure it out when that time comes.
There you have it. Pastor mommy struggles at their height in a busy, difficult season. Sorry for the short post but hope you understand where I'm at and forgive my briefness. Perhaps grace can abound while I gracefully stumble through this week. Blessed holy week to you all! |
AuthorI've been Robyn for my whole life. I've been a wife for 10 years and a mom for 5 years. I've been a pastor for about 10 years. I'm still stumbling, but I'm still standing. Archives
April 2019
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