Brave, Anyway

Tag: brave

  • Goodnight Moon

    Goodnight Moon

    This week seems to be all about the moon. Full moon. Blood moon. Super flower moon. Moonbin rode a bike with training wheels (social media makes us dumber). And I even came back across the moon walk episode of The Crown.

    The moon can somehow be mysterious and comforting and ominous all in one week, or maybe even all at the same time. As a young person first reading and absorbing the not-so-common parts of the Bible, I was absolutely terrified by the thought that the “the sun will turn into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.” More recently, I’ve read Goodnight Moon to my girls hundreds of times – Ella always loved saying goodnight to the cow jumping over the moon and Audrey liked the little old lady whispering hush.

    Audrey and I stare at the moon sometimes as we talk at night, especially if her day has been a day. One great lesson the moon teaches is that we often only see one part of a thing – whether it’s waxing or waning in a clear or cloudy sky, we tend to focus only on the parts of things or times or people or situations that we can see, or that we want to see. And sometimes we do that even when we know there is so much more just beyond our current focus or line of sight.

    And then there’s the moon’s surface filled with craters, the result of space stuff colliding into it over however many thousands or gazillions of years, that reminds us that we can take a pretty severe series of hits – physically or mentally or spiritually – and still survive. Our scars, like those craters, bear witness to our strength and resilience and character.

    The moon is something the whole earth has in common. That people of all languages and locations and terrains and beliefs have in common. That humanity has in common. People all over the world look up at the same moon.

    We all share the moon.

    We all seek its light.

    The moon is a reminder that we are all a part of something a little bigger. That we are tiny and the world is vast. That sometimes the situations we think are insurmountable are actually very small.

    Image from NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter , 2015.

    All of us that look up toward the sky to see the moon are more alike than we are different. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say we’re more alike as it relates to the core things. We want to live in safety and peace. We want shelter and food. We want to be loved and to be treated well. We want to be happy (and our saying for that is over the moon!)

    As I catch up on the news from around the world tonight, I can’t help but think about all the other people looking up.

    Goodnight to those facing sickness; may your bodies and minds find healing, and may you know you are not alone.

    Goodnight to those facing the impact of gun violence; may you be comforted.

    Goodnight to those listening for noises that mean danger; may you stay safe.

    Goodnight to those who are confused; may you find clarity.

    Goodnight to those who fear or are anxious; may your mind be at rest.

    Goodnight to those who are sad, for reasons you know or don’t know; may you find joy.

    Goodnight to those who are angry; may you be filled with love.

    Goodnight to those who don’t have provisions; may they find you or you find them.

    Goodnight to all the helpers; may blessings chase you down.

    And goodnight moon. May all who look upon you this night sleep peacefully.

  • Easter People

    Every Good Friday, and actually on all my dark days, my favorite words of Pope John Paul II always come to mind.

    Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.

    More simply, sometimes our Sunday is just 48 hours away.

  • Perfection Redefined

    Perfection Redefined

    With the exception of Mary, I don’t think I’ve even once thought about the women in Jesus’ family tree. What a horrible thing to be true about a Christian and a feminist.

    But a few weeks ago I came across an artist named Tricia Robinson, and was really moved by her work and especially her words about The Four.

    Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba have something in common. They are grandmothers in Jesus’ family tree. Some were prostitutes, involved in affairs, some lied and were truly not the starry-eyed perfect princess. But God chose them…these four broken women. And that’s why I gave them crowns. A symbol of grace and love from our Creator and Redeemer.

    The Four, by Tricia Robinson

    I knew the stories of these women, but it never occurred to me that they were part of the lineage of Jesus. And it struck me that I have harbored a secret belief that all the people in His family were and are people who meet a high standard of perfection.

    I know that I can lean toward perfectionism and I thought I had identified all the thought patterns that needed redirection, until my reaction when I saw this artist’s work and her words. The bad and the ugly is that I still expect perfection of myself, and that’s not an attainable goal.

    I am very disciplined about setting realistic goals at work, but I am not-so-disciplined in my personal life. Particularly as it relates to setting realistic expectations of myself in my most important job: mom. I guess maybe a lot of moms fret about whether or not everything they say and do is enough, but I really feel that weight more in the last few years because my girls need and deserve a parent who is focused above all on them and who sets a good example.

    I may not be out sleeping around, but I certainly drop F bombs and can get my judge-y on. Translate: I’m far from anyone’s definition of perfection, including and especially my own.

    I also love the words of Ann Voskamp, which Tricia Robinson shared in her packaging with the print:

    Four broken women – women who felt like outsiders, like has-beens, like never-beens…women who didn’t fit in…And Jesus claims exactly these who are wandering and wondering and wounded and worn out as His.

    I feel like an outsider regularly. Depending on where I am, I may be the Christian who’s not a Republican, the Mom who asks uncomfortable questions of other kids’ parents, the one who won’t come to something if I can’t bring my girls with me, or the opinionated divorced lady who makes people uncomfortable because I am not afraid to stand up for myself or to encourage women to stand up for themselves. I’m a girl who doesn’t care about hair and make-up. I’m not a “single-pringle” looking for fun, but a woman committed to peace. And I’m not good at keeping up with friends and I don’t go on girl trips because in my non-working hours I hang out with my girls, cook with my father-in-law, or yell at the news and my Twitter feed.

    I am also wandering and wondering and worn out regularly. There’s a never-ending list of things I feel like I haven’t done (and that I actually haven’t done!). There’s a never-ending list of things I need to do with and for the girls, and that I need to teach them about and to talk to them about. There’s a never-ending list of things I’ve missed and of things that I never even thought about needing to cover until a situation arises and I think How did I not think about and plan for this conversation??? Which brings me back to: I’m far from anyone’s definition of perfection, including and especially my own.

    Maybe I should redefine “perfection” as simply doing the best I can. Because grace. But can I do that? Maybe it’s brave to accept a radical notion like my best is enough. Because grace. But is that crazy?

    As I was pondering it all tonight, Audrey fell off her bike and skinned her knees. I ran to grab the bin of materials to get her all cleaned up, and when I opened the gallon Ziploc bag of Band-Aids – which are the leftovers from dozens of boxes and themes we’ve had over the years – the one she pulled out said Brave.

    The family of Jesus is filled with imperfect people and followers. I’m one of them.

  • How To Be A Good American

    How To Be A Good American

    July 4 has me thinking about what it means to be a good American, and all my paths of thought seem to end with people who are really disappointing right now. It’s not that hard to be a good citizen, to be a good American, to be a good human. So why are we having so much trouble?

    When you bump into someone, say you’re sorry. Even if the other person is grumbling or glaring at you, you say you’re sorry because you did the bumping. You never ever pull out a gun, or point your gun at children. And you never ever make excuses for that sort of behavior.

    Don’t say All Lives Matter. I’m giving most people the benefit of the doubt here and just assuming you don’t realize how awful that statement really is, but let me be clear: no matter how you try and spin it, you’re showing your rear-end when these words come out of your mouth. All lives don’t currently matter equally, and they never have in this country, which is why the statement Black Lives Matter is important. It’s not a statement that white lives or police lives matter less, it’s not a statement that you endorse people who riot, and it’s not even a statement that you believe in protesting or civil disobedience. It’s a statement of love for your neighbor, and of recognition of wrongs.

    Examine the roots of why you believe strongly in the things you do, and if there are inconsistencies or things that are downright wrong in your heart about your beliefs. Do you believe that good Americans or good people don’t publicly question the President or leadership? That good Americans don’t protest? That good Americans, good people, are from one political party or another? Because those things are not rooted in our founding or declaration at all, and while we’re at it they are also not rooted biblically. Do you think because there are people in your life that you love that are not like you that you don’t harbor any racist or hateful thoughts or feelings or versions of history? That’s a lie. We all have some learning to do and some work to do. We have to commit to understanding our inconsistencies and our convenient little lies, to ourselves and to others, and to the work to do better. And we need to understand that until we do, all our arguments to convince people we’re right are falling on the deaf ears of people who know we don’t have our act together.

    There are no white people in the Bible.

    Stop fighting over symbols of hate and inequity and injustice, and recognize instead HOW MANY OF THEM EXIST. Our land – our hearts and minds – are literally filled with symbols of racism. Statues and mascots and team names and confederate flags. Even people who don’t want to take them down or change them acknowledge what they are, and they argue not to take them down or make changes on the basis that they are historical or because those men were veterans. Symbols of oppression and hatred, even if they are a part of our history and even if they are of people who fought in a war and even if you believe the original meaning to some people may have been something else, cannot be glorified in public places as if the men and symbols were or are great.

    Wear a mask when you’re in a public place. It’s not a sign of oppression, or that you’re a snowflake, or that you don’t believe in God enough for protection and healing. The vast majority of you are wearing seatbelts and getting vaccinated for polio so just stop with the I have rights on this topic. No one wants to do it or likes to do it. It’s a pain in the butt for everyone. But the reality is that Covid numbers are the only way in which the south is rising again.

    Before you repost or post on social media, take 10 seconds to google for truth. Grandma Sandy from Topeka is not necessarily the most credible source of info on crime, history, who’s holding secret fundraisers for politicians, or voting laws in the state of Idaho. Stop spreading false information. It’s us, average American citizens, that are spreading the vast majority of fake news.

    People are so frustrating right now.

    We are so much better than this. We are so much smarter than this. And I refuse the notion that this land is filled with mostly selfish and crappy people.

    My company has been conducting town halls and small group discussions about all that’s happening in our world right now, and our moderator introduced the sessions with some really smart guidance that I think can apply in all sorts of situations.

    1. Assume positive intent from others when they say or do ignorant things.

    2. Take accountability for the impact of your words and actions, because you don’t get to choose how they impact others.

    3. In this time you may find yourself feeling uncomfortable. Ask yourself why and really think about it. Is it because you learned that what you used to think maybe isn’t totally true, that perhaps you have biases that you were not thoughtful about, that behavior or thoughts in your past when you didn’t know better make you feel ashamed?

    4. And above all, don’t hide from those thoughts and feelings – use them to change.

    Freedom means we have “the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.” That also means we have the freedom to see when we’re on the wrong path in an area and get on a new one. We are free to change our minds, change our thought patterns, change our behaviors, and change our tired old ways to be better.

    Maybe change is how we best display our commitment to America.

  • Masks

    Masks

    I’m always wearing a mask.

    My most important learning of the last week was in those five words, spoken by a woman I admire and look up to and care about.

    I’m always wearing a mask.

    My heart sank. How can that be? I work closely with this person, and am in multiple meetings with her each day. I think she knows – I assumed she knew – that everyone around her recognizes how smart she is and how capable she is and how funny she is and how dedicated to her job she is and what a wonderful person she is. And on and on and on I could go.

    She knows all that, although like all of us she likes to be told sometimes. The issue is that she can’t bring her whole self to lots of places because she’s worried about how that will be perceived. How she will be perceived.

    She must remain calm. She must hide strong emotions. She must temper what she says. She must do everything perfectly. She must overachieve.

    How exhausting must it be to live that way? To not be able to be yourself. To not be able to relax. To always hold back and hold in. And even worse – to have to watch others who don’t have to wear any masks live and laugh and react freely.

    Remember those Halloween masks from the seventies? Those plastic face coverings that were held in place by tight rubberband-like pieces around the back of your head. Comfortable breathing was impossible and after just a few minutes they were full of condensation and became uncomfortably stuck to areas of your face. At least in today’s COVID world, we have cloth masks made of soft fabrics, and still we hate them. They’re itchy and hot and stifling and we don’t feel like ourselves when we’re wearing them.

    This week I’ve been following the posts of a couple thousand women in a private Facebook group – women who are trying to have real dialogue about race and equity and love and hate and bias. I have not yet posted anything; I’m simply consuming and absorbing the content. These are things that are resonating most with me right now and as I process the words I’m always wearing a mask.

    And finally these words, the rules a nervous Mom has undoubtedly repeated to her son dozens and dozens of times. Rules such as:

    Don’t put your hands in your pockets.
    Don’t put your hoodie on.
    Check in with your people, it don’t matter even if you’re down the street.
    Don’t touch anything you’re not buying.
    Never leave the store without a receipt or bag, even if it’s just a pack of gum.
    Never leave the house without your ID.

    See the full video, originally a TikTok, here.

    My Momma heart is grieved as I think about the fear that other Mommas clearly live in.

    Exhausting is the word that keeps rattling around in my head. Fear is exhausting. Masks are exhausting. The list of rules this young man – millions of people – in this country live with is exhausting. Oppression is exhausting.

    The last few weeks have – or should have – forced all of us to ask questions about ourselves and the people in our lives. About what makes a good human. About what makes a good citizen. About what makes a good person of faith. About what makes a good American. About unjust laws and unjust systems and unjust humans. About why people must wear masks. About what I have said and done, or not said and not done, that has caused pain for another. About what I can do to create space where no masks are needed.

    I can’t fix everything, and I don’t even know how, but I can work on me. And as I’ve been thinking about that I’ve been humming an old song the last few days…

    Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me. Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be.