Church and the therapist's office

I need to start by saying that I love my church. I love the people there and the community. I feel we have a greater than average share of eclectic, quirky people when compared most churches I have been to. We are accepting and welcoming more than I feel is normal for a church. Those people are my family and I love them! But we still have a long ways to go, in my opinion. And I feel that "the church", in the broad sense of the word, should be more like the waiting room at the therapist's office.

Yesterday I spent a little more than an hour in the waiting room at Fraser. Fraser is a mental health specialty clinic for kids. They are mainly known for their amazing work with autism, but they work in all areas of mental health. It is a wonderful place and one for which we are very, very grateful! I have spent Thursday afternoons there for almost a year now, (for a while we spent time there on Friday too, but we've weaned down to once a week!). The woman that we see there (who we are adore, and care about, and are so, so thankful for, and who has made a huge difference in the life of one of our kiddos and, thus, in the life of our family as a whole) had surgery earlier this winter and so this was our first week back since before Christmas. (7 weeks off of therapy, especially in the midst of a major home remodel, is really tricky for a kid who has a significantly hard time with changes to routine and unpredictability!) So, after that break, I feel like I was seeing things with fresh eyes yesterday.

Many of our same "friends" were there in the waiting room with me. Familiar faces. But there were new people that I didn't recognize as well. The Fraser waiting room is a unique place. So very much diversity! Ethnic diversity. Economic diversity. Age diversity (the woman sitting next to me, who I have had short conversations with from time to time, brings her GREAT grandson to his therapy each week). Language diversity (there is always at least one interpreter in the room to relay information from therapist to parent). Diversity of abilities. Diversity in the issues that bring us each to Fraser. It reminds me a bit of what I imagine heaven to be like.

It is the least "calm" waiting room I have EVER been in. Kids throw major fits there. Sometimes they lay down, refusing to move, in the middle of the floor. It is loud! People often act in ways that would not be socially acceptable in any other setting. Loving therapists and parents can be found sitting in the middle of the floor trying to engage with a kiddo they care about and want to help who has shut down or is being oppositional. If people need to get by them (because they are, quite literally, sitting in the middle of the floor of the small waiting room) they just step over or around and give a sympathetic smile. It is the least judgmental setting that I have ever been in. It has a vibe of we've-been-there-too, keep-up-the-fight, you-can-do-it. Solidarity! Parenting is hard, hard work! That is universal. But some kiddos are even harder than average.

Everyone in that waiting room is desperate. They realize they can't do it alone and need help and wisdom and support. They are at the end of their ropes and knowledge and ability and are acknowledging their needs just by walking through the door. That fact brings an amazing feeling of unity and also an inability to put on any air of pretense or having things all together. Just by being there, we are all saying that we DON'T have it all together and that we're pretty much a mess. And we need help. No one there is judge-y. People give a sympathetic smile and let you know you aren't alone. People own their "stuff" and don't attempt to be fake. I imagine we all spend enough time faking it in other settings and it feels good to be real for a bit.

Isn't that how church should be too? Aren't we there because we are acknowledging that we need Jesus? That we can't save ourselves? That we are all sinners and are a bit of a mess -- possibly even a huge mess! When people ask me, on Sunday morning, "How are you?",  can I say that I had a shitty week? Would I get in "trouble" if I said shitty in church? A big part of me wants to be authentic, but instead, I almost always default to "Good. And you?" This is not completely false. I AM good. I am healthy. I have a wonderful family that I love (and who, if we're being honest, I want to murder at least once a day). I have food to eat and clothes to wear and a roof over my head. I have wonderful friends and a great community. But, also, life is hard! It isn't easy to convey all of this in church (or anywhere), so I default to "Fine." or "Good." But I wish church were more like the Fraser waiting room. Where we could drop the pretense and be more real and have it be ok to do so. Where other people would be that way too. That we all would. Where we could just sit (often completely wordless) with our crap. Where just by walking through the doors we would be admitting what a mess we are. I think Jesus would be in favor of that. My Jesus would, anyway!

*photo credit to my friend Margaret 

Heavy-hearted . . . but hopeful

I feel like 2016 has been a rough year. It has been a rough year for me, personally. It has been a rough year for my family. It has been a rough year for my immediate community. It has been a rough year for our state. It has been a rough year for our nation. And, it has been a rough year for the world. Hurts. Struggles. Violence. Protests. Elections. Refugees. Wars. There is lots of bad stuff going on out there.

This week, especially, there are many hurting people around me. And, I would guess, around you as well. No matter what your political leanings or what candidate you voted for, I would hope that each of us in this nation (and many people around the world as well) have dealt with the goings on of the world with sobriety this week (figuratively, if not literally!). I would hope that, no matter what side of the line you find yourself on, you would be a bit heavy-hearted with me this week. There are many people in our nation who are hurting. People who are scared. People who are in mourning and are deeply wounded. Many of them are people that I love and care about deeply. And that fact hurts my heart!

There are many things that have made this year memorably rough a variety of levels. A major one that comes to mind for me, as far as my immediate community goes, is the shooting of Philando Castile. On July 6th of this year, Philando Castile was shot and killed by a police officer less than 2 miles from our home. This happened in my immediate neighborhood. Our community was thrust into the national spotlight overnight. Many people, even Twin Cities residents, had no idea where Falcon Heights was before this summer. Now people all over the country recognize the name of my community. My dad, one of our daughters and I took a bike ride the day after the shooting to join the gathering of people who were mourning, protesting, remembering and holding vigil at the location where Philando (Mr. Phil as he was known at the elementary school where he worked) was killed. It was an emotional and meaningful thing to be a part of. Many tears. Hugs between strangers. A heartfelt word to my young daughter from a black woman thanking her for coming to share in the "hard" of the moment. There was less anger than I expected; more deep sorrow.

The following week, the elementary school that our kids attend organized a gathering and peaceful walk to the memorial to show our concern over the violence happening in so many different communities in our nation, but specifically the violence that happened right outside our doors. It was a beautiful gathering of caring, concerned community members and I'm so thankful that we were able to be a part of it. It fells good and right to do something when you feel so overwhelmed and helpless. The three teachers from our school who organized the gathering are amazing people. Amazing leaders. Amazing teachers. I am very thankful to know them and have them influencing my kids! My talented friend Shaina (who has a fabulous name . . . even though it is spelled "wrong") took some very moving pictures of the event, which you can see here (see if you can spot any of our family members in the photos).

Although I live very close close to the location where the shooting took place, it is not a part of my normal, daily driving route. Because of that, it becomes easier to forget with time. More than 4 months have passed now and many people have moved on and forgotten at this point. However, one of our kids has a weekly appointment that brings us down the road where the memorial is, and so, on our drive home from our appointment every Thursday we drive by that spot. We remember. There is still a very large memorial on the side of the road. There still are people who remember and have not forgotten. People who are still hurting.

This week there are many people that I know personally and care about deeply who are very sad and hurt and disappointed in our nation. They are mourning and they are scared. Scared for themselves. Scared for their children. Scared for people that they love. This makes my heart feel heavy! I am a highly sensitive, deeply feeling person, so I realize I am in tune to the pain of others in a different way than people of a different personality type are, but I would hope that the deep sorrow of many in our nation would bring sorrow, in some degree, to each of us. Regardless of who I voted for, regardless of who you voted for, there are people around you who are hurting and I would hope that that fact would make your heart heavy too. I also realized that there are many people who are very happy about the outcome of the election (obviously, since Trump won), but I would hope that even those who are celebrating the victory of their candidate could be sympathetic and, hopefully even, empathetic to those around them who aren't feeling celebratory right now. It is a hard time for our nation. I realize I haven't been alive for all that many presidential elections relative to people that I know with many more years of life and wisdom, but I feel like this one is unprecedented in the level of angst and division that the outcome of the election has brought to the people of America. It feels different to me this time around. More divisive. Heavier. I, for one, hope to act in ways that bring peace and healing and a feeling of being loved to those who are hurting. Smile at a stranger. Be civil to those who you come in contact with who hold political views that differ from yours. Love your kids. Hug your friends. Make strides for peace in ways that you are able.

I want to be a safe place for both those who are happy with the state of our country as well as those who are hurting. I am very aware that I have friends and family members in both camps. People that I love and respect fall on both sides of this struggle and that makes things tricky, but not impossible.

But through all of the hard and the sad and the horrible, there are also many, many glimmers of good in the world. The world holds much hope! On Wednesday morning, after the election results were tallied and in, I went to school with my elementary kids to volunteer, as I do each Wednesday. The chatter of elementary school kids this particular morning was more interesting and insightful than it is most "normal" Wednesday mornings. The toast with cookie butter (yum!) and coffee and the amazingly beautiful sunrise that I witnessed that morning paired with the laughter of kids and seeing a student that was pretty discouraged a couple weeks ago flash me a smile (rare for this particular kid -- at least in my experience) and volunteering in a kindergarten classroom (gotta love kindergarteners!) were all good for my heavy heart! So while there is hard in the world and sad in the world and sorrow in the hearts of many of us, there is also so very much wonderful! The warmth of the sun on your back in November, the crunch of leaves underfoot, snuggling, health, newborn babies, meaningful work, laughter with friends, coffee, hugs, a beautiful sunset, people who love you through your yuck, naps, catching up on laundry, online shopping, a good book, music that moves you . . . be on the lookout for the good things in life. There are so very many. The seemingly little, insignificant ones are my favorite! Enjoy them. It's ok to be sad and it's ok to mourn and it's ok to hurt, but try not to forget about all the good that is still in the world. As Glennon Doyle Melton likes to say, "Life is brutiful!" Simultaneously brutal and beautiful. Intertwined. That's how it has always been and I imagine that is how it always will be! I'm going to try my hardest to focus on the beautiful and the good. It's easier sometimes than others, but it's always a good goal.

Blessings

I have made a practice, for years, of keeping a list of blessings in my life (gratitude journal). It really helps me to keep things in perspective and also to be on the lookout for the gifts in my life, both big and small. Here is some of my recent blessings.

5313. a beautiful sunrise
5317. Anna spending the weekend with GG (those two just LOVE being together)
5322. reading books to Sara
5365. a thumbs-up from our 93-year-old neighbor as he drove past me as I walked
5359. clean sheets on all the beds
5372. clothes on the clothesline
5402. crafting
5410. glorious spring weather
5423. friends who know you well
5450. hearing an owl hooting in the woods
5462. the quiet of morning
5485. the girls hanging out in the yard in their hammocks
5504. beautiful sunset
5505. our "village" and how we take care of each other
5532. staff appreciation breakfast at school -- always a highlight of the year
5540. that my kids get to really know my grandma. And the love her so much!
5542. texts from friends
5548. our spiffed up patio space
5554. lots of yard work done
5556. the smell of lilacs in the air

Be on the lookout for blessings in your life. You will love it once you start!

thankful thursday

This week one year ago the Metrodome roof caved in and we had to cancel our Christmas party because we had nearly a foot of snow. Yesterday it rained. Yup, rained! All day long. Weird!

Anyway, onto the thankful part :: In addition to being thankful for the mild weather we've had so far, I am so very, very thankful for my "village". You know how "they" say it takes a village to raise a child? (actually, first someone in Africa said it, and then Hillary Clinton published a book with that title and made it more popular) Anyway, it's so very true. Parenting is hard enough with a village, I can't imagine doing it alone!

I am always so thankful for my wonderful, wonderful village and all that they add to my life. In our "village" we have people who are gifted in basic car repair, an ER nurse who has saved us many a trip to the hospital (not to mention HUNDREDS of dollars) with his little tube of super glue and willing, helpful spirit, people willing to drive my kids here and there when we are heading in more directions than is humanly possible on any given day, playdates that save this mom's sanity, date night babysitting swaps, friends who will drop off forgotten violins at school so I don't have to wake the baby from a nap and people to bounce ideas off of or just vent to. My kids know that they can ALWAYS go home with any of the village parents, even if that wasn't the original plan. If a village mom says she's supposed to take you home, my kids know to just go with her :: she probably has better snacks and I'm sure her house is more fun than ours anyway! Isn't that wonderful? Our friends, especially those we are raising children alongside, are so much ore than just friends :: we're in this together. We can't do it alone. It's hared! We need to watch out for each other. We need "spies" who will tell us things about our kids that we would never have known or discovered on our own :: what they heard in a conversation between friends in the back of the van, what they noticed or picked up on when they were volunteering at school, what they hear from their kids about my kids . . . I'm so thankful for good, trusted, solid friends -- Christian friends -- to raise kids with. To steal a line from one of my favorite Sara Groves songs :: "Life with you is half as hard and twice as good!". I am thankful!