Gifts.

Sometimes,  often ... more times than I care to admit, I get caught up in the untamed force of the holiday season.  And that makes me a bit bah humbug-ish...

So I decided to step out of harm's way this year and be present to the beauty of the Christmas season.

You see...I'm finding the older (more mature) I get the more time I need for contemplation and stillness and calmness.   I need less crazy and more zen.  So here are just a few of the items on my shopping list...I'm trusting it will grow over the next few weeks.

I want I will...

pause at my kitchen sink to soak up the freshly painted morning sky,

text a bit of the Christmas Story to my devo friends... daily,

make room for goodness and endless acts of kindness,

spread joy,

reuse, recycle, re-purpose...stuff,

shop less and give more,

believe,

and

rejoice and reclaim the essence of the season.

But most importantly...

I will clench the extraordinary moments of utter beauty and treasure the wonder of it all.

The story.

My friend is writing a book and she asked me to share a piece of my story.  I wonder if these words are just the beginning. 

“If you fall, I will catch you, if you fly, you can teach me,

either way I will be with you.”

I find it difficult to write of the jagged edges of our family's journey.  It was a devastating, all consuming, shattering of dreams time. I keep trying to write about it from afar, as that somehow seems safer… and then…

I think about what I needed.  

I needed the truth from the beginning…the raw, messy, uneven, gut wrenching, hope-filled truth.

I needed to know that struggle would become opportunity.  I needed to know that blame and shame and fear and denial and anger and grief and chaos and tears were "normal" and acceptable and okay.  I needed to know that my broken maternal instinct would eventually heal and grow stronger.  I needed to know that I would be part of the solution. I needed to know that my words mattered...all of them, even the unspoken ones that haunted me. I needed to know that beauty often comes from the bruises.  I needed to know and understand the language of this disease and trust the “team” while at the same time questioning and challenging… everything.  I needed to know that "relapse" was a part of recovery. I needed to know that self-care was not self-ish... even if it felt that way.

I needed to know that "exits" are not always well lit but are always there.

I needed to know that recovery is possible and real and individual.  I needed to know that what I heard wasn't always what was being said and what I said wasn't always what was heard.

I needed to know that faith doesn't always make things better it just makes things different.

I needed to know that I would fall and fail and fumble...and break...often.  I needed to know that fear and control and independence would be replaced with courage and bravery and vulnerability. I needed to know that sometimes it was about me and sometimes it wasn't.  I needed to know that sometimes love was enough and sometimes it wasn’t. I needed to know that forgiveness takes time.  

I needed to know that it was okay to breathe.

I needed to know that it wasn't about comparing but connecting and that leaning into other peoples' stories kept me from falling down.  I needed to know that community grows in the most unlikely places.

And I needed to know that frayed ends are actually the beginnings...and it is terrifying and beautiful and continuous.

So instead of writing about it from afar, I write from the very center. Which is the truth…

And what I need.

When Things Fall Apart.

My words have been hard to land on lately mostly because I feel a bit like I'm unraveling...

in slow motion.  

But these highlights from my latest search for understanding reflect some of my messy.

"If we commit ourselves to staying right where we are, then our experience becomes very vivid. Things become very clear when there is nowhere to escape.

Impermanence becomes vivid in the present moment; so do compassion and wonder and courage. And so does fear. In fact, anyone who stands on the edge of the unknown, fully in the present without reference point, experiences groundlessness. That’s when our understanding goes deeper, when we find that the present moment is a pretty vulnerable place and that this can be completely unnerving and completely tender at the same time.

...because dissociating from fear is what we do naturally.

Sometimes, however, we are cornered; everything falls apart, and we run out of options for escape."

Chodron, Pema (2010-09-14). When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times (Shambhala Classics) Kindle Edition. 

Cling.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,
declares the Lord.

As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."

                                            (Isaiah 55:8, 9 NIV)






My heart seeks to fill the gaps that brings me closer to your thoughts and ways.  I'm unsure of how to do that.  All I know is that yesterday I was ok and today I feel like I'm drowning
in the wide open spaces.

Drummer boy and I spent some time at the beach this past week.

Water calms me...

Standing at the edge of the shoreline I'm reminded of my insignificance and humbled by it.
The Gulf of Mexico seemed to cradle me and pull me closer to the center of what is significant.

And yet two days later I'm grasping gasping for air.

I will hold on though...

and remember in my insignificance the breathtaking sunsets you painted...
for just me and my drummer boy.

Unstable.

"Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.  We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability and that it may take a very long time." 
Pierre Teilhard DeChardin, S.J.

Therapist guy told me knowledge can be curative.  He also told me knowledge (having to know and  understand) can also be another form of control.

I don't know what I don't know.

I will trust in the mystery and my slow moving God...

today.

"it"

I got on my knees today.  Mostly because I needed God to see me in action. Kneeling before him with arms outstretched...

and

a heart beating out loud

and

tears searching for a place to land.

I'm a mess.

Shit.

I'm a mess.

I need "it" to stop. I need control back. I need safety and comfort and unmessy and I need to land on what "it" is.

I need a reserve tank.  One that's filled with strength and courage and hope and rest and love and understanding and compassion and energy and peace and stillness and answers.
I can't do this now.  I can't do "it".

I make drummer boy tell me it's going to be okay every day, sometimes more than once.  He wants to know what "it" is.  That's the scary, no exits, tidal wave of emotion knocking me over petrifying part...I don't know.

My farmer girl niece told me she's adopting the AA philosophy.  I asked her which step...the powerlessness one?  She said no, just the one day at a time one.  Phew...I think I can do that one.

My therapist is sick.

I didn't even know I needed one.

Shit.

Birthday prayer.

Happy 1st Birthday little guy!

I can't believe it's been a year since we welcomed you into this world.  What a gift to witness your first breath... which I think you stole from me.  I had no idea that my heart could hold so much love but it did and it does and it somehow it expands with every "FaceTime".

Andrew... you have your Great Grandma Jeanie's eyes.  I think you might even have a bit of her spirit. She was beautiful and funny and gentle and kind and a bit mischievous.  You have Great Grandpa Frank's fierce independence and I suspect a bit of his stubbornness.  Simply put...you are perfect and beautiful and charming and delightful and loved.

I'm pretty sure you will get everything you could possibly want or need at your big party so my simple gift for you on this very momentous day is a prayer.

I know you're probably thinking "Meme, a prayer?  How can I open that?" Trust me, my sweet boy...you can...every day.

Andrew, my prayer for you is this...

That you will grow into a mighty man of God and that you will trust in His whispers... always.  I wish you never know of pain or struggle but I pray when you do you will lean into the arms of our Savior.

I pray you grow in wisdom and strength and love and hope and joy and compassion and abundance.

I pray you adventure and discover your way through some of life's mysteries.  And I pray that some of life's mysteries keep you wondering and seeking and searching.

I pray for self-confidence and a strong ego that protects not prohibits.

I pray you love deeply and take risks and are gentle and strong and trust that you are wonderfully and fearfully made in God's image.

I pray your imagination grows wild and curiosity never gets the best of you.

I pray you and your sister Anna always grow together in love and patience and forgiveness and understanding and respect... through the inevitable fights and teasing and playfulness of "siblingness".

I pray you never shy from your Mama's love. I pray you trust always in how your Mommy and Daddy "grow" you.

I pray you become a drummer boy too.

I pray you know...that you are profoundly enough.

I pray for you... always.

Happy Birthday Andrew John Zehring!

I love you to the sky and back again.
Meme

Exhale.

I witnessed grace today...and community and love and struggle and beauty and determination and bravery and hope.

This thing that I needed to do 10+ years ago became bigger than me today.  It wasn't about me and I got to be a part of something way bigger than my ego...and that's a pretty big something.

Hundreds of courageous people showed up today with either a story to share or a heart that needed to hear the stories of others...  Dozens of volunteers wholeheartedly dedicated themselves for months prior because they believed in the importance of stepping into the dance.  The dance that invites communities to find their rhythm...speak the truth and innately trust in the safety of it all.

That's extravagant vulnerability.

I don't do vulnerability well.  But I'm learning that leaning into my messy exposes me in a healing way.

So here it is... some days I can't find my breath.  Some days my heart drops in my belly because it's too much for my chest to hold.  Some days I feel selfish.  Some days I am selfish.  Some days I can't leave my house.  Some days I think it's all about me.  Some days I know it's all about me. Some days I wrestle with God's mercy or lack of.  Some days I accept it.  Some days my body vibrates. Some days my mind can't stop the crazy.  Some days I'm grateful and fearful and hopeful and exhausted and burdened and resentful and thankful and courageous and messy.

Some days I can't hold all the goodness.

Some days I know it's not about me...

today was that day.

I thank each and every vulnerable warrior today for walking in this beautiful mess.

52 wishes.

Today's my birthday.  I decided to change the rules from one single birthday wish to as many wishes as candles.

That's a lot of wishes.

When I asked my friend how did that happen...how did 52 years of living catch me so quickly?  She said "you blinked".  I either need to stop blinking, which I tried for about ten seconds, or start breathing and living and feeling and celebrating and pursuing and grasping all the non-blinking moments. 

This morning's devotion was this: "...the earth is full of his unfailing love." Psalm 33:5  

Constant, steadfast, boundless, inexhaustible, abundant love.

His creation. His fullness. His grace. His love. His beauty. His mercy. His glory. His hope. His son.

His gifts...

to me.

I love presents. I'm just not sure I've seen every gift as a present to be unwrapped. But apparently (while I was blinking), I was growing older and wiser and braver and messier and stronger and more daring as a result of some of these 52 years of gifts.  I've also become a bit more fragile in my half of century + 2 age.  But not in a broken bones, poor eyesight, weak bladder kind of way...no... more in a fractured, uneven heartache kind of way.

What I'm discovering in those fragmented places

are...

scars that are healing,

beauty that is growing,

love that forgives,

an unfolding of joy,

loud, beautiful silences,

unrefined emotions,

raw fearlessness,

unuttered whispers,

breathless moments,

exhaled pieces,

untouched aches,

tangled memories,

sweet surrenders,

exquisite grace,

and

unwrapped gifts of... more.

My birthday wishes, in no particular order...

1. Breathe more.

2. Get another tattoo.

3. Dance at sunset with drummer boy.

4. Dance at sunrise with drummer boy.

5. Stay up all night watching old movies or mad men.

6. Hold on tighter.

7. Let go more.

8. Start writing a book.

9. Sleep in.

10. Paint my dining room.

11. Redo my kitchen.

12. Finish my bedroom.

13. Organize my photos.

14. Enjoy a weekend at the beach with drummer boy, unplugged.

15. Go on an overnight silent retreat.

16. Dream more.

17. Grow a garden.

18. Weed a garden.

19. Create a thousand memories for my grand-babies.

20. Follow the feelings.

21. Take ballroom dance classes with drummer boy...again.

22. Take a sign language class.

23. Do less.

24. Create more.

25. Be more spontaneous.

26. Pray harder.

27. Laugh more.

28. Seek Him in everything.

29. Receive the gifts of his unfailing love...every day.

30. Go to sleep with a heart filled with gratitude, every night.

31. Wake up with a heart filled with gratitude, every day.

32. Tell my girls...more.

33. Take a motorcycle trip to Martha's Vineyard.

34. Be braver.

35. Distract less.

36. Listen harder.

37. Lean in more.

38. Sing louder.

39. Explore the dark places.

40. Start a girlfriends circle of realness.

41. Be real and speak the truth every day.

42. Learn how to make good gluten free bread.

42. Write more letters.

43. Sleep on a hammock under a full moon (with drummer boy).

44. Buy less.

45. Recycle more.

46. Plant tulip bulbs.

47. Build a snowman with my granddaughter.

48. Make snow angels with my grandson.

49. Exhale more.

50. Embrace the messy.

51. Celebrate the simple.

52. Hire someone to do #10-13, #17, #18, #42, #46.

If I remember correctly I think I get an extra candle (wish) for luck...

53. Blink less.

Happy Birthday Mom.

You would have been 85 years old today. I miss you. I miss your hugs. I miss your smell. Do you know that I've saved your perfume and every year on mother's day I spray a little on me? Silly, I know. But I need you back. I've never stop missing you.

I have so much to ask you.

I need to know...

how your heart healed when I hurt you,

how you never held a grudge,

how you prayed.

I need to know...

why you never stop dieting,

why you didn't believe you were beautiful,

why you never shared your tears.

I need to know...

when you knew you needed to speak the truth to me,

when life was too hard.

I need to know...

about your fears,

your dreams,

your desires,

your wishes,

your struggles,

your heart,

your messy.

I need to know...

where your courage came from,

where you put your pain.

I need to know...

who listened to your sorrows,

who felt your grief when your brother died,

your mom died,

your dad died,

your husband died.

I need to know...

what you loved,

what you wanted,

what you believed.

I need to know...

everything about you.

I miss you more than my heart can bear.

I need you to tell me how to be a mom.

I need you to meet your great grand babies.

I need them to meet you.

I need to tell you...

stuff.

I need to know that you can hear me.

I need to know...

you - beneath the layers of 78 years of living,

your pearls of wisdom,

your memories,

your grace,

your heart.

I need to know that you are with Dad and your family and Jesus and it's beautiful and peaceful and glorious and pure and safe and extravagant and joyous and eternal.

I need you to know...

that I eat hotdogs and popcorn from Target when I need to feel you closer,

that chaos makes me nervous,

that I'm scared sometimes,

that I worry too much,

that I walk like you,

that I just want sips of Danny's beer,

that I've fallen in love with your dog,

and so has your son-in-law,

that I cry alone,

that I am brave,

and raw,

and beautiful

because of you.

I love you.

Happy Birthday Mom.

beauty

"...who has saved us and called us to a holy life - not because of anything we have done but because of His own purpose and grace..." 2 Timothy 9a

Do I live a life that reflects such beauty and abundant grace?  I seek to capture His grace and soak in it, letting it penetrate my heart and fill me with such certainty that I can accept I am enough.

I am Forgiven.

I am Saved.

I am Holy.

I am His.

I am Called.

A holy life awaits.

Sustain.

This morning's devo; "Where can I go from your spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens you are there; if I make my bed in the depths you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." Psalm 139:7-10

Can I trust what I can't feel?

My mom always held my wrist when we crossed a street, no matter how old I was. Not my hand... my wrist. It was like she was worried if we held hands I might let go and run out in traffic and get run over by a car.  She worried... a lot. After we crossed she'd let me break free... but my wrist could still feel her grip.

Pause.

My morning devo texts have grown to about a dozen or so. I love spending a few moments of stillness with Jesus and sharing a scripture with my morning “small group”. Well, except for one, my Philadelphia girl. She told me this weekend she didn’t know what she believed anymore… it broke my heart. I imagined her getting these texts and rolling her eyes and sighing and struggling and denying and resisting and questioning and seeking and searching for what she doesn’t know. I respect that. I step in that place too. So now I research really cool, inspirational non-bible quotes and text them to her. She stretches me and teaches me about stuff I didn’t know I needed to learn. I love her. Her grace for me... well is just that, grace.

I send each devo text separately. It feels more personal; especially since they don’t all know each other. This morning’s devotion found me. “Let us not become weary in doing good, for in the proper time we will reap harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9. I always add a word for the day, mostly because it’s only one word and it’s easier to hold on to. The word today was pause. My farmer girl niece responded with “You should chant this entire scripture in your head on the way to work everyday…especially the weary and not giving up part.”

I rolled my eyes.

Because what I heard was “I should be stronger, I should be able to run the race, not grow weary, blah, blah blah.”

You see I’m a bit obsessive.

I want there to only be 3 emails in my inbox,

a Martha Stewart office with perfect handwritten labels for things I didn’t even know needed labels,

an empty card box (because I’ve actually sent all the cards I’ve bought over the past 10 years),

a bridal shower invitation worthy of a Pinterest post,

an intimate knowledge of my MacBook,

endless amounts of creativity

and finally I want words.

Words that tell my story of God’s redeeming Grace for my simple overflowing life of messy.

So.. I texted her (you know for clarification) and she said that God gives us encouragement, and that I should trust that.

I am enough.

I don’t need to give up

in order to

rest,

breathe,

or

pause.

So I will resist the obsessive urges today and my desire to run away and instead choose to run towards... pause.

I'm guessing it's there...where I will discover a storehouse of words.

Small graces...

I reach for them on the edge of my messy.

Drummer boy and I stopped at our favorite café this morning before our weekly trip to the farmer’s market. Our fave café happens to be what supports our little non-profit. We opened it two years ago knowing nothing about the café business except for the fact that we like, I mean love, coffee. We stopped by there this morning to drop off some mu mu muesli that we picked up from one of our vendors at the farmer’s market. We sell it at our café. We sell lots of local stuff there…peanut brittle, spices, jams, just to mention a few. There is always something that needs to be fixed in this 4500 sq. ft. building and since drummer boy is also maintenance man a “stop by” can be a bit lengthy. Today was no different. Apparently a little “something” decided that our dry storage area would be the perfect place to build a home (which is code for nest), right through the wall. Maintenance man needed to shut down the project before it became occupied. Since it was a one man job I decided to visit a bit with café manager’s wife who is the sweetest woman ever. She is adorable with two equally adorable little boys. She told me that her oldest boy asks God (every day) if he can see heaven. He melted my heart. I told him we can see pieces of heaven in the every day. We just need to look for them.

And then I asked myself…do I?

Do I look for them in my every day or am I so overwhelmed and burdened and anxiety ridden that I am completely unaware?

I spent the rest of the day collecting them in my butterfly net.

Here are just a few…

Giggling grandbabies, a spring flower peeping through a neglected garden, the kindness of motorists waving all the motorcycles through an intersection, seeing Venus and Jupiter from our deck, chirping birds before dawn, our inherited dog that always loves to see us come home, freshly painted steps, flip flops in March, day dreaming with drummer boy, a noise filled café, sleeping with the windows open, clouds parting in the sky with the sun shining through, a neighbor taking care of his elderly parents, rice pasta that taste like real pasta…

Ok, so I don't know if flip flops or gluten free pasta are pieces of heaven but I do know that opening my heart to the sweet simple things of today helps me to breathe easier.

I can do this...one small grace at a time.

“What are you doing here…?”

I’ve been waiting to hear the “still small voice” or the “gentle whisper” of God lately. But all I seem to hear are the loud passions of women whose hearts have been stirred to do something. That something is different for each of them. And I find myself wanting to protect these fierce women from their somethings…

Why?

I’ve been in transition mode these past few months from my something. That something has been my every waking and sleeping moment of the past 10 years of my life. It’s why I got out of bed and it’s why I stayed in bed. It has simultaneously filled me and drained me, broken me and made me whole. I have run towards it and away from it. I have believed in it and doubted it. I’ve cried, laughed and danced through it. I’ve been burdened and blessed by it. I’ve prayed for it and against it. My world expanded from it and my life got smaller from it. It was radically life changing. It was beautiful and ugly and sweet and bitter. It drew me closer to the center of dependence. It pushed me to rely more on God and less on me…most days. It saved me, cost me and healed me…again and again. And now I stand at the end of my something and wait. I wait for God’s voice to lead me, to fuel me, to quench my thirst for more of something…for more of me, more of Him, more of rest, more of service, more of stillness, more of the hushed beauty that I’ve missed.

And then I ask myself, why would I want to protect others from such uncultured, heart stopping, breathtaking, paradoxical, foolish joys. Because one of those women is my daughter, and I’m selfish… and I want to protect her.

And yet I want her to know the depths that God has taken me to, because it’s there in the deep we find irrational love that is enough. And that enough is what grows to become the something that stirs our hearts and gives us the courage to answer His call.

So I will try to let go of my unease and listen for His whisper through the thunderous passions of these beautiful, daring women as they bring to life their somethings.

And I will be there for my daughter with unconditional love and support and perhaps an under the breath, hardly audible "I told you so baby, I told you so..."

And it will be good.

Meme's girl

For the past 12 days I have been immersed in grandma hood. It was as if the world got smaller. And I guess in a way it did, at least my world did and I loved it. 3000 miles is forever away between visits...so I decided to hit the pause button to everything else and soak up every moment of sweetness with my little wonders.

Nothing is more beautiful than being awakened by a wee little whisper voice saying, “Meme, I want to get in bed with you". And nothing takes my breath away more than the blue eyes of that little brother of “Meme’s girl”.

I decided I want to be more like them.

I want to adventure my way through the day…imagine, explore, giggle, play, nap, pretend, cuddle, breathe, read, take risks, jump, splash in puddles, hide and seek, and resist bedtime.

I want what they have.

Little brother’s greatest feat was discovering his hands…again and again. Meme’s girl danced into each day...after the appropriate amount of morning cuddle time of course. I feel lighter in their presence. I seem to breathe easier. Life seems simpler. Laughter erupts. Joy jumps. Love abounds. Sleep comes.

Mama of Meme’s girl and little brother would argue that is reason enough to move closer.

I wonder.

What does God have planned for me?

Should I fear it, or embrace it? Sometimes I don’t want to go where He leads me. I think because I don’t trust enough or believe enough or let go enough or pray enough or maybe I don’t play enough. I love when Jesus tells his disciples; “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these”. Mathew 19:14

I’ve been hindered…mostly by me.

So maybe it’s time… time I unhindered myself and play in the heaven on earth playground. I get to do this life. Poet Mary Oliver asks the question; “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” I want to live in each and every prized moment. I want to live and play my faith out loud. I want to dance naked before Jesus and trust that His love is enough,,, that I am enough and I belong to His kingdom. I want to be bold and brave and dangerous. I want to fill my heart with endless moments of God’s grace.

Meme’s girl asked if she could say grace one night and then decided that all she wanted to say is the “Amen” part. I want to say less and Amen more. I want to follow closer and listen harder. I want messy, irrational, foolish faith that plays and seeks and trusts.

So maybe instead of hitting the pause button to the ever demanding pressures of this world I hit the play button... and hold on tight.

Amen. Amen. Amen.