mulligan: 40 words in 40 days

Yesterday I bombed as a mom. It happens.

The 6th grade field trip to Adventure Science Museum approached us. I had signed up to go as a chaperone. I told Joshua that if he did not want me to go, I would not go. Matt even asked him in under-cover CIA-mode if he was okay with me going.

Having received the thumbs up, I proceeded with clearing my schedule for today. When I got home yesterday and mentioned the field trip, Joshua said I was not on the list to chaperone. A lengthy discussion ensued. I sniffed out that he possibly did not really want me to go, but he would not own it.

Ultimately I pulled a Dr. Spock migraine move. I got out my stopwatch app. I said if you don't tell me what you want at the end of 30 seconds, I am making the decision. And I am going.

At 29.75 seconds, he said, "No."

Now, I had prepared to hear this. I thought I was fully okay with it. I had begged him to tell me the truth. And when I heard it, I felt a bullet in my heart. I did the only thing a real mom could do. I went to my room and cried.

The truth hurts.

I had to tell him the truth about my reaction. I put him in a catch 22, a no-win situation. I apologized.

And later in the evening, Joshua asked me to go on the field trip. He had good reasons and explained them to me. I decided to go and honor his olive branch.

I am thankful for grace in parenting. I am thankful for a mulligan.

play: 40 words in 40 days

This morning Sam woke up early. He was ready for school 40 minutes early. That’s right I said 40 minutes. 

I asked him, “What do you want to do?”

I want to play with you.

I must’ve looked stricken because he said, “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” I asked him.

“I don’t think you want to do that,” he said. My heart broke in two.

Truth: I did not want to do that. My face did not lie. And the desire of my heart is to be present with my kids. I want to play with them.

I don’t know how to play.

So I did the only thing real mothers do. I lied.

Go get the clay! Let’s make something together.

Before you think this was some heroic gesture, I could stomach playing with clay more than Beyblades or cars. I’m sorry. I have not finished my coffee yet. I have on my fluffy robe. My eyes still feel crusty.

And so we made a monster.

I said, “He is a cute little monster.”

Sam corrected me. “He is a fighter headed to war.” He grabbed a toothpick sword and pierced him. Then some red clay for the blood.

I gulped my coffee.

nearness: 40 words in 40 days

It is a frightful thing to contemplate the nearness of God. In the Old Testament, men fell dead when they touched the ark. As priests worked in the Holy of Holies, a jingle bell sewn in the hem of their robe alerted the ones outside that the priest still breathed. He also worked with a rope tied to one ankle. If he fell dead, the others could drag him out without having to enter to retrieve him. 

When Jesus came, he healed by his touch. When Mary wiped his feet and anointed him with oil using her hair to dry them, he said that her story would be told wherever the gospel went. John reclined on Jesus’ chest and heard his heartbeat. Jesus touched. The blind, the lepers, the bleeding, the dead - all were healed. 

Today, are you afraid of the nearness of God?

What if Jesus touched you?

His Spirit resides in us - in our bodies. You can’t get much closer than that. Yet so many days, I go about life and forget about His nearness. My breath is His breath. I can use touch to heal or hurt. My words have the power of life or death. 

Am I a vessel of the Spirit? 

I want to remember that He is always near.

“...they delight in the nearness of God.” Isaiah 58:2

release: 40 words in 40 days

Lent culminates in the resurrection. A place where Christians celebrate the forgiveness of sins and the release from the prison of depravity. We are new creatures because of the forgiveness extended to us.

This morning as I mapped out my world, my day. I noticed how many offenses I carried. I thought of how futile and unnecessary it is for me to carry those. It’s exhausting. It’s stressful. It’s harmful.

One of the meanings of forgiveness is release. I can let go of these offenses and my compulsion to control the outcome. When Peter asks Jesus how  many times we must forgive our brothers, Jesus replies 70 x 7. Then he tells a story about a king and an evil servant. 

The servant ran up a debt of $100,000. When the king called the debt, the servant threw himself at his feet and asked for more time to pay. The king acquiesced.  As soon as the evil servant left the room, he encountered a fellow servant who owed him $10. He seized him by the throat and demanded he pay up. When the fellow servant begged for mercy, the evil servant threw him in jail. No mercy. 

The king got wind of the injustice. He dealt with the evil servant by demanding that he pay up the $100,000 in total. Jesus said, “And that’s exactly what my Father in heaven is going to do to each one of you who doesn’t forgive unconditionally anyone who asks for mercy.” Luke 18:35

I want to bask in the mercy extended to me through Jesus. And then let it overflow to those in my life. These petty offenses pale in the light of the love given to me freely. I release them.

together: 40 words in 40 days

Baboons experience stress. 

And there are people who study this phenomenon. One of these, err, scientists wrote that type A baboons often have chronically elevated levels of stress hormones. This impacts their health negatively. Their reproductive systems don’t work all that well. They have elevated blood pressure. Wounds don’t heal quickly. All in all, they are not in great shape.

Believe it or not, baboons come in type A varieties, mediocres and slackers. The mediocre baboons experienced the least amount of harmful effects of stress. Relationships and social connections, among baboons mind you, actually counteract the stress response. The ones most likely to reach out to other baboons experienced less harmful effects of stress. 

Baboons, and I am quoting here, who need baboons are the luckiest baboons in the world. 

The bottomline: social connectedness is the most powerful antidote for stress-related disease. 

At our church, we just say “together is better.” And the baboons can tell you that.

The “data” in this post comes from Monkeyluv: And Other Essays on Our Lives as Animals by Robert Sapolsky, as quoted in Emotional Sobriety by Tian Dayton, Ph.D.