Good (?) Friday

Today is Good Friday.  Today is the day Jesus died.  The part of me that wants to be a super-devoted Christian who is spiritually and emotionally walking through Holy Week with Jesus and his disciples thinks that today should be a low point.  It should be somber, it should be reflective, it should be sad.  But after reading through the story of Jesus' crucifixion I felt stumped. "I have so much life to live today," I thought.  "But today is the day Jesus died.  How can I reconcile those things?"

I've also been thinking about the disciples this week.  Did they start to panic in the upper room when Jesus told them that one of them would betray him?  Did they fear for their own lives then?  I think they did after Jesus was arrested.  Just look at poor Peter, who declared that he would never forsake Jesus and then denied him three times.  None of them stuck up for Jesus as he was being shuffled around from Herod to Pontius Pilate to Golgotha.  None of them stuck their necks out in defense of Jesus.  Why?  Were they dumbfounded with horror at what was happening?  Were they afraid of being beaten or killed themselves?  Or maybe both.

I've been struggling with my own silent voice this week.  Last Sunday our pastor handed each of the kids a bag with twelve easter eggs in it and a note.  The kids were supposed to fill eleven of the eggs and then hide them all in a friend's yard.  The note informed the friend that they had been "egged" and to not be surprised that one egg was empty because it represents Jesus' empty tomb.  The back of the note listed our church's Easter Sunday services.  I wanted Little B to participate so yesterday morning we took his bag over to Little D's house while he was gone at preschool and hid the eggs (3 year old style:)  What bugs me about the whole thing is how flustered I was when I asked Little D's mom if we could do this.  I was so worried that they would feel "evangelized" by us that I talked really fast and blabbered and could barely explain what it was we wanted to do.

Where does this fear of sharing faith come from?  My theology reading from this week observed that factors from the Enlightenment period shifted faith into the private, rather than public, sector.  I think this is an interesting idea, that society as a whole gives off the message "Don't talk to me about your faith," but I think it's a small part of the answer to my question.  The disciples couldn't stand up for their faith because they feared for their life.  I can't stand up for my faith because I'm afraid of offending others.  I hate that about myself.  But I guess it leaves me right where I wanted to somehow be today.  At the foot of the cross.  Mourning my inability to stay true to my God.  Confused and horrified at what he has to suffer because of me and my sin.

"Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, 'I am thirsty.'  A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus' lips.  When he had received the drink, Jesus said, 'It is finished.' With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."  John 19: 28-30

Lectionary readings, judgement, and my piano

One of my Lenten practices this year is to spend my quiet time studying the scriptures presented in the Daily Lectionary.  I am following "a super simple blog that supplies you with the daily Scriptural readings from the two-year cycle found in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer,".   The readings are supposedly grouped together in such a way that you can find common themes or connections between the passages.  After one semester in seminary, I feel extremely unqualified to take on this task every morning, but I'm not going to get better until I try, so each morning when the alarm goes off at 5:30 I put on my glasses, force my eyes to get used to the light, and try.  There are definitely days when I see no connection whatsoever and just choose one passage to reflect on.  But today was not one of those days.

The readings for today (excluding the Psalms) were Genesis 44: 1-17, Romans 8: 1-10, and John 5: 25-29.  In the Genesis passage, the middle of the Joseph story, Joseph's brothers are "caught" with Joseph's silver cup, which Joseph had secretly ordered to be put in his brother Benjamin's pack.  (If this seems random or not like a big deal, that's because it's part of a much larger story.)  Long story short, Joseph framed them.  And although they could have insisted they didn't do it, and been right, Joseph's eldest brother's response was this:

‘What can we say to my lord? What can we speak? How can we clear ourselves? God has found out the guilt of your servants; here we are then, my lord’s slaves, both we and also the one in whose possession the cup has been found.’ (Genesis 44: 16)
They were completely ready to take the blame!  They had been accused.  Evidence proved they were guilty.  They were ready to accept punishment.  Even though they didn't deserve it (in this instance anyway, let's set aside the fact that they had previously sold Joseph into slavery, that's a different story).  The idea of being judged is hard enough but being judged when you don't deserve it?  This is hard to swallow.

The John passage also speaks of judgement, more specifically of the final judgement.  

'Do not be astonished...for the hour is coming when all who are in their graves will hear his voice and will come out—those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of condemnation.' (John 5: 28-29)

I think Jesus was speaking of the idea of "end times" in this passage, when the world will be redeemed and all in creation will face judgement.  Jesus appears to be drawing a very black and white line.  You will be judged and receive either life or condemnation.  Be prepared.  

Personally, I find the idea of judgement uncomfortable.  I think a lot of other people do too.  We don't want to be judged unfairly, as Joseph's brothers were.  We don't want to accept the consequences of judgement, especially if it's "eternal damnation" as some like to preach.  We don't want to be judged but we judge others all the time, a hypocrisy I struggle with greatly.  Unless you are focused on righteous judgement, which just doesn't seem to happen all that often, judgement can be dark, confusing, something we'd just rather avoid.  

But then we come to today's Romans passage, which again speaks of judgement but in a very different tone.

'There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.' (Romans 8: 1-2)

What a difference!  Those words "no condemnation" leap off the page to me and I breathe a big sigh of relief.  There's an "out" from all this nasty judgement.  Thank goodness.  (Sidenote: The rest of this passage explains how Christ frees us from condemnation, which I won't go into now but know that my reaction to these verses is based on understanding what follows.  I realize that if you don't believe in Christ, you will have a very different response to these verses.  I am willing to talk with you about that if you want to.)  

So judgement seemed to be the common theme today.  A couple starkly different presentations of judgement.  And what exactly are we to make of it all?  I have no idea.  And when I was reading it all this morning while half-awake and nursing Baby P, I really had no idea.  But I was able to discern this connection between the passages and it has been in the back of my head all day.  I just haven't been sure what to think.

Then late this afternoon I was spending time on my other Lenten practice - playing worship music on my piano.  A little background is necessary here.  I took piano lessons for seven years as a child and progressed as far in talent and skill as I could go without really buckling down to work toward a more professional level, which I had no desire to do.  I continued to play off and on through the years, less often once I moved to college and didn't have the piano and even less often after college.  Once we bought our home a couple years ago, my parents gifted the piano to me, so I've started playing again.  The problem with my piano playing is that I do not have the patience to achieve perfection.  If there's a measure or section of notes that I can't play without mistakes, I know that I should stop, practice that section by itself until I can play it correctly, and then go back to the song.  But I've never had the patience for that.  It drives me crazy, but for whatever reason I always just power through, make a terrible wincing face at my wrong notes, and keep going.  Tonight was no different.  I have a book that I love to play from with beautiful arrangements of classic hymns called The Living Room Sessions.  I stumbled my way through "For the Beauty of the Earth," "All Creatures of Our God and King," The Church's One Foundation," and "Great is Thy Faithfulness."  My heart soared in worship when notes came smoothly, my brows furrowed when they didn't.  When I was finished I stood up and pushed the piano bench in with a sigh, feeling grateful that I'd had time to play but slightly frustrated as always at its imperfection.  And that's when Hubby T looked up from playing with the boys and said with great sincerity and love, "That was beautiful babe.  I really enjoyed listening to it."  Well friends, I was stunned.  I couldn't have disagreed more.  I was focused on the imperfections but he focused on the beauty of the whole.

And this is where I got an answer about the issue of judgement.  We deserve to be judged for the wrongs we commit to one another and to our Creator.  We deserve to be punished.  We deserve to rot in our imperfections, just as I dwell on the missed notes that should be flat or the super low notes that I've forgotten how to read.  But, amazingly, God is a God of love.  And instead of focusing on our imperfections, he forgives, he moves on and instead dwells on our beauty.  Jesus' death on the cross brings us from the darkness of judgement to light of freedom.  Freedom to live as best we can, freedom to play worship music as best I can, knowing that we will screw up along the way but also knowing that God forgives us and loves our whole being anyway.  

So I'll keep playing my piano, long after Lent is over.  These are the songs I want my boys to know deep in their souls, even if they don't know the words or meaning yet.  They may be imperfect, but they are an expression of adoration and thankfulness for Christ's gift.  May we all be aware of our imperfections and how we deserve to be judged, and in so doing be made more aware of God's amazing love in forgiving and overcoming them. 

A Texan St. Patrick's Day

Baby P has a pretty tiny amount of Irish blood in him, but it's St. Patrick's Day today and he's going to music class this afternoon and all the kids there will be in green so I felt compelled to dress him in something green this morning.  Trouble was, he didn't have anything green in his dresser!  So I opened up the drawer of as-yet-too-big clothes that he's been given and voila!  St. Patrick's Day with a tinge of Texas cuteness abounds:)

(Clapping, his new skill) "Yay for me!"

"Yay for Aunt KP!  Thanks for my awesome shirt!"

Picture dump

I've got nothing folks.  I've been wanting to post something for over a week and creative inspiration just hasn't struck.  So here's our month so far in pictures because those I miraculously do have!

At the beginning of the month we had (another) snow day so Little B and I built his first bedroom fort!

It didn't even last until lunchtime but he still had fun in it for a couple hours.  So did Baby P once he woke up from morning nap.  I'm pretty sure this face says, "Why thank you big brother, I will help myself to your toys as a snack, thank you very much."

 There are many nights when I walk in to kiss Little B good night after he's fallen asleep and wish I could take a picture.  Sleeping kids are just so beautiful.  A couple weeks ago, his pose was too good to resist and Hubby T flashed away.  Note the too big dinosaur slippers on his feet, which he put on after we tucked him in, and the arms crossed behind his head.  This boy is clearly the king of his castle!

Have I mentioned what a battle it is to get Little B's morning responsibilities done every morning?  He wakes up with an attitude of all play all day, which is wonderful and exactly how he should be, most of the time.  How did he get to this point on this morning?  I have no idea.  But I do know that eventually he was completely dressed, his bed was completely made and his teeth were brushed because no matter how much he protests, Mommy always wins!  

 
Two weeks after our snowy Monday we hit 80 degrees!  We took advantage of the glorious glimpse of spring by having a picnic lunch at the playground.  I had to pretend that Captain Hook and Mr. Smee were going to the playground too to motivate Little B to walk there with me but we got there!

Baby P is great when we go for walks.  I think he's at that age where he is content to look around and take it all in.  Considering how much he's moving around at home, it's a relief to have him contained sometimes!

And when I say he's moving around, I'm not kidding.  8 months and this kid is vertical.  Baby proofing has just hit a whole new level.

One of Little B's favorite book series right now is Arthur.  He also love anything that has to do with music.  So when I found a book called Arthur, It's Only Rock 'n Roll I knew it would be a winner.  At the end of the story Arthur and his friends end up at a Backstreet Boys concert.  So one day I casually mentioned to Little B that the Backstreet Boys were a real band and mommy had their music on her iPod, did he want to listen?  Yes!  He did!  And this was his face for most of lunch while he listened.  I don't think he was sold, which made his daddy very happy.  He told me it sounded like pirate music, which made me very happy:)

 
Finally, I made this happen on Friday morning.  He insisted on using two cups to drink his milk at breakfast, so I insisted that he help clean up the extra dishes.  He's not even close to washing dishes regularly but I'm thrilled to start introducing the concept to him.  I have great hopes for the day when my boys will be old enough to contribute something other than messes to state of our house:)

Thanks for making it all the way to the bottom of my very uncreative post!

Hubby T's First 30 Years

10,957 days have passed since you entered this world.

10,168 days have passed since you became a big brother.

8,567 days have passed since you became a Boy Scout.

5,144 days have passed since you started driving.

3,436 days have passed since you became my boyfriend.

1,747 days have passed since you became an educator.

1,142 days have passed since you became a father.

30 years as a child of God, son, brother, husband, and father.  God only knows what your next 30 years will bring but I can't wait to see it and be part of it with you.  Happy birthday to my beloved husband!

Celebrating Hubby T's 30th birthday at the boys first Flyer's game!

Today's little moments

The prayer I wrote in my journal this morning began, "Lord, today I am weary but you are not."  I guess that's just how you wake up feeling when you stay up until 11 watching Downton, get up at 3:30 to feed the screaming baby, wake up at 4:30 because of a nightmare, and wake up at 5:30 for good with the alarm.  I could have been a tired, short tempered mess today, but I credit God (and my chai latte) for keeping me going all day.  Plus these little moments of mommyhood happiness...

I walked into the kitchen after putting Baby P down for his morning nap to find Little B and Little D kneeling on the floor around a spilled bowl of rice krispies.  Little B immediately assured me, "I'm cleaning them up Mom!"  What a relief to see evidence that my clean-up lessons are sinking in.  Also, note to self to stop buying rice krispies.  Despite his and my best efforts, I've been stepping on them all day!

He had one little tuft of hair that curled up today, looks wind blown here but that's really how he looked all morning!

I came upstairs after starting a load of laundry to discover Little D kneeling on the couch while Little B "drummed" on him!  (This may sound random, but Little B has been really into music lately.)  Little D was totally playing along but I felt the need to redirect before the drumming turned into hitting, so I pushed them together, started tickling and turned them into giggling machines.  The best music of all:)

When they were younger people always thought they were twins...their hair in this picture still makes them look that way!

I've been trying to teach Little B how to dress himself.  I sat there this morning in awe, wondering when in the world my kid got old enough to  put on his own clothes?  The whole process wouldn't be so bad if he didn't move so in.cred.ib.ly. slow.  My patience will pay off in the end when he can get dressed on his own, right?  Although I suppose it will still be a battle to get him to do so.  This morning he told me he didn't want to do his morning responsibilities, which include getting dressed.  I told him that I didn't want to wake up but I did anyway so he needs to do things he doesn't want to do sometimes too.  I know, a little snarky of me.  And the logic didn't work.  Oh well, I still won in the end:)

Also, when did he get old enough to climb like this?!

Little B has been out of diapers for 5 or 6 weeks now.  He still struggles to get through nap time with no accidents, not because he can't physically do it though, I think it's all mental.  I've turned into the big bad mommy and told him that from now on he can't watch any episodes of his favorite shows until he gets through nap with no accidents.  Today was a success, we'll see if that bribe, I mean motivation, works going forward!  For better or worse, there's no turning back now. 

Love this boy!

Nothing especially memorable happened with Baby P today but he is growing and changing fast so each day is special in some ways.  Baby P turned 8 months old last week.  He is a mommy-loving, crawling, teething, hair-pulling, eating anything he can get his hands on little boy.  Days with him are fairly predictable right now.  He has morning and afternoon nap times, eats 3 meals of solid food with us at the table, and crawls around in between.  Unless he wants to be held, in which case he cries - loudly - until one of us caves in.  In an effort to make his afternoon nap a long one today, I let him go to sleep with a pacifier and got a 2 hour nap out of him - glorious!

And now it's night.  The boys are in bed.  My kitchen is clean and the fridge filled with leftovers for another night.  And I got two loads of laundry washed, folded and put away today - not bad for me on 6 hours sleep!  Time to wrap this up and go watch House of Cards with Hubby T so that the gory, violent sounds of him watching Waking Dead don't push me over the edge.  I pray for peace for each of you reading this, that God grants you strength when you are weary as he did for me today.  And I especially pray for Hubby T's family, as they remember the passing of his grandmother one year ago today, and for my friend who is today sitting by the hospice bed of her own grandmother.  "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you." John 14:27 

A bedtime story

Once upon a time there were two little boys, Little B and Baby P.  They had been playing all day and had become very dirty.  At seven o'clock, Baby P was still sticky from his breakfast game of blowing raspberries with a mouth full of peaches.  Little B had worked up a sweat by bouncing on the couch, over and over and over again all day long.  Plus he had purple fingers from his blueberry snack and a ring of brown around his mouth, leftover from his after-dinner Joe-Joe cookie.  It was time for bath.

Getting ready for bath was one of Baby P's favorite moments of the day.  The moment his mommy laid him down on the bathroom rug, he started kicking his legs, throwing his arms up, and making joyful baby noises in anticipation of the bath to come.  Finally his diaper was pulled off and his mommy swooped him into the tub.  He looked around for his wash cloth, and, locating it, he instantly stuffed into his mouth and began sucking.  Periodically he would drop it back down into the water, then stuff it back into his mouth.  Bath water was delicious!

After a short while, too short in Baby P's opinion, his mommy laid him on his back in the tub to gently scrub him clean, although it felt more like tickling than anything else, and he giggled gleefully in response.  His body was so full of giggles that it erupted out through his arms and legs, sending water splashing everywhere, which just prompted more splashes and giggles!

However, all good things must come to an end, and as soon as Baby P was lifted out of his warm bath and laid on his towel, he started howling.  And he didn't stop.  He didn't stop as he was dried off.  He didn't stop as he fought his mommy while she tried to apply his skin medicines.  He didn't stop as he struggled against putting his pajamas on.

 It wasn't until he was cuddled in his rocking chair, settling into his bedtime snack with his mommy, that Baby P finally relaxed.  He fell asleep in his mommy's arms, but roused a little bit when she lifted him up to read a bedtime story.  He protested when she put him into his crib (because on principle every child must protest when put to bed) but quieted down shortly after his light was turned off.  Sweet dreams Baby P!

Meanwhile, as soon as Baby P vacated the bathtub, Little B climbed in.  Little B had some big decisions to make.  Should he play with his pirate bath toys?  Should he play with the road and cars bath toys?  Should he play with the squeezy toys?  No, tonight he would paint.  Body paint that is.

Baby P settled in, sometimes talking to himself, sometimes talking to his daddy.  A somewhat shy, "Daddy, I have to go potty," led to a quick lift out of the bathtub and plop onto the little boy sized toilet seat, but he was back in the warm bath before too long.  He gave his daddy a hard time when daddy announced it was time to wash his hair, because he knew that meant his playtime was over.  But Daddy won in the end, as always.  Little B and his daddy jokingly went back and forth opening and closing the tub drain until eventually the water was all gone.  Little B was lifted out of the tub and wrapped in his towel.  He sat on his daddy's lap to have his teeth brushed then ran buck naked across the hall, declaring, "Mommy will read me stories tonight!" His daddy and mommy (who was finished with Baby P at this point) followed him into his room, admonishing him to climb down from his bed, where he was enthusiastically bouncing (again), and pick out his pajamas.  Little B quickly dressed, shivering in the cold winter air, gave his daddy a big bear hug good night and climbed in bed to read stories.

After stories were read, as many as he could cajole his mommy to read, he said his bedtime prayer, reciting clearly at first then jumbling the words together as he raced through the end..."Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, guard me Jesus-through-the-night-and-wake-me-with-the-morning-light-amen."  Then his mommy asked him what he was thankful for that day.  "Thank you God for Mommy and Daddy and Baby P."  "Yes," his mommy agreed, "thank you God for our family.  What else are you thankful for?"  "Thank you God for Daddy's work."  "Yes," his mommy replied, surprised!  (He hadn't said that before.)  "We are very grateful for Daddy's work."  Then they agreed that he was also thankful for the friends who had come over to play that day, for blueberries, Joe-Joe cookies and other good food to eat, and his magazine and other fun books to read.  Little B's mommy gave him one last squeeze, turned off his over head light and turned on the dim light on his night stand.  "Good night little boy.  I love you, sleep good," she lovingly crooned to him as she closed his door. When she came back in fifteen minutes later to turn his light off, he was curled up in a ball with his little behind stuck up in the air as if he was still a baby, fast asleep.  She pulled the covers over him, blew him one last kiss and left him in darkness.  Good night Little B!

So the two little boys drifted off to dreamland.  Their mommy and daddy sank into the couch downstairs, ready to enjoy their first bit of alone time in thirteen hours, and prayed that each boy would sleep soundly and peacefully, echoing Little B's prayer in their hearts, "Guard us Jesus through the night and wake us with the morning light, amen."  The end.