Last sremon of Advent

Mary:

I was almost 14 when I became betrothed. I had never met this man, Joseph, whom I would spend the rest of my life with, but I knew that he was of a suitable age, about 30, and that he was a carpenter, so would have the means to look after me and my children. I was excited that I would finally be counted as a woman, no longer a child, but of course I was also a little scared – it is no mean thing to leave your family to live with someone you don't know.

When I found I was pregnant I was terrified. I knew, KNEW that this was a unique child, a blessing from God, one who would change the world now and forever, but it would be assumed that I was adulterous – and the penalty was death. So I made haste and fled to Judea some one hundred miles away when you bypass Samaria, which I had to do. If a Samarian had caught me, an Israelite, travelling through their territory they would have killed me without a second thought. The journey was dangerous – there were wild animals, bandits, and extremes of weather that a young girl travelling alone had to be brave and a little foolhardy to survive.

I was running for my life.

I needed Elizabeth’s protection.  This was no social visit.  This was not happenstance.  Elizabeth was the wife of a priest, a descendant of Aaron, and the matriarch of our clan.  She was distantly related to me, a girl from a related clan. I fled to see a distant cousin who she hoped would save her life. Had Elizabeth not blessed my pregnancy, and had the religious authorities condemned me as an adulterer, I might be put to death. It was a journey of faith, that would be made again so many times over my life – faith that God was, is and always will be with me, that God's purposes are ultimately fulfilled.

Elizabeth:

Had Zechariah been able to speak, he would have condemned Mary.  As a priest, he would follow the law.  He was known for following the law. As a man in a patriarchal culture with a patriarchal religion and institutions, there would be pressure to enforce the law.  The Law demanded death.

The law protected male interests.  Girls were property. For example, if a man rapes a girl, he was required under the law to pay the girl’s father fifty shekels and to then marry her. Having lost her virginity, the girl could not be married and no dowry could be collected, so the rapist has to marry the girl, and the girl had to marry her rapist. Conversely, a husband’s infidelity is punished only if he takes another man’s wife. But a wife who commits adultery commits a “great sin”. She would be severely punished. Her husband could forgive her, but he could then divorce her leaving her penniless and disgraced. It was a risk for me to accept an unmarried young woman with child into my house. Unlike for Mary, my pregnancy carried with it a rise in status – as a barren woman unable to produce a son for my husband, I was useless, less than a woman and of little value. Now I was able to stand proud and tall, knowing that I was fulfilling my duty not only to my family but to my God.

When I greeted Mary, I knew that she too carried a special baby. She carried the Messiah, the one for which we have been waiting for so many long years. I was filled with the Holy Spirit and cried “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”

Then Mary begins her song. It’s full of joy and praise for reversing the power struggle between the lowly and the powerful. God fulfilled his promise to rise up the poor and scatter the proud. Mary’s escape from the limits of her situation and culture symbolizes the fulfilment of these promises.

Josie:

Obviously, this is a reconstruction of a possible encounter. We can't know what was going through Mary and Elizabeth’s heads as they carried. Brought up and eventually farewelled their children, those children that were, despite and within everything that was done in and through them, human and loved.

I have been struggling this advent season. Normally it is my favourite time of the year – a time to celebrate and prepare for Jesus, human and yet divine. A time to remember his beginnings, as a humble, illegitimate child with no claim to glory or status, unique and special in his mother's eyes but to the world, just another man. I think of my own children, feel a bond to Mary as a feed and love them, imagine what it was like for her, watching her oldest child grow and develop. I wonder what she wished for him, how she thought his story would be carried out, if she watched him when he was asleep and was overwhelmed with love and protection. I wonder if she prayed to take his burden, to carry his pain, to give him what he had not chosen for himself – a normal life.

But this advent has been changed for me. I can not rejoice the way I want to. I can't look forward with unbridled joy to the time when Jesus will come in every heart, because this Christmas there are hearts that will be forever empty. This Christmas there are 20 children, children the age of my little girl, and 6 adults, teachers who gave their lives in fear and heartbreak, who are not celebrating the way they should be – with their families, with their friends, with nothing on their mind but the lead up to Christmas.

I live in the faith that, as Mary sung, God has fulfilled God's promises. That the weak are made strong, the poor fulfilled in every way. I have to have faith in this because right now, I find it hard to believe. Once again, children have been torn from their mothers, their fathers, their families and communities. Once again parents who would do anything, suffer anything for the happiness and well being of their children are never going to have that opportunity again. Evil is at work in the world, and the darkness seems to be free. There are plenty of people who seem to know what God is thinking and planning in the wake of this tragedy – I wish I was one of them! But I turn to the Bible to try and help me make sense of this senseless act.

Mary’s words in Luke’s Gospel are probably not the speech of an unmarried girl contemplating her pregnancy. More likely, the author of the Gospel composed them as an interpretation of Mary’s situation. This is not to diminish Mary’s value or faithfulness; but it is a reminder that the author was looking retrospectively at Mary’s pregnancy, viewing it through a post-Easter lens to express a confident hope that God’s Messiah would yet complete the task of upending the world’s oppressive ways.

I am very suspicious, then, of theological statements that promise too much insight into the present. Theology that tells us what God is doing right now, and that definitively claims to understand tomorrow, usually is manipulative theology.

It’s not that we have no confidence in contemplating God’s future, or ours. But God’s future will be informed by who God has been in the past. Our talk about God should begin there, then.

In the end, Mary’s song remains outrageous. When the Gospel of Luke ends, the powerful remain on their thrones, and the rich have not been left empty. No historical event unambiguously confirms her claims; they remain statements of faith.

Advent is like this for Christians. It’s a season of standing up against “the way things are.” Advent rejects the assumption that humanity remains trapped in never-ending decline.

We light candles during advent “against” the night. Our tiny, vulnerable flames pose no threat to the darkness of the night. But we light them anyway, because they declare a different reality to come.

“Joy to the World” will not sound the same this year, not after funerals for twenty beautiful children and their adult defenders in Newtown. The carol, in declaring the “wonders of [Jesus’] love,” will sound fake to some. Ignorant to others. And in some places, hopeful. But I plan on singing it a little defiantly -- not in naïve, Pollyannaish hope, but in confidence that Mary, the author of Luke, and those before them who dared to speak about God saw with a perspective I can learn from.

On your marks...

We are lined up at the starting post. I cast surreptitious glances at the other competitors, checking their postures and assessing who to beat. I feel sick to my stomach, my extremeties are tingling, and the starter gun fires.

I watch my beautiful 5 year old girl trot down the field.

I am a sports mum. The worst kind. The kind that desperately wants her child to win, the kind that seriously considers pulling grotesque faces at the other kids to put them off, the kind that anaylses every race and competition in retrospect to try and improve for the next time.

Luckily, my daughter has no idea.

I think I do a pretty good job of hiding it. When she manages to run a whole race without looking behind her, I cheer and high five. When she slows down at the finish line to let the person behind her catch up, I say what a good friend she is. When she runs into the high jump rope instead of over it, I... ok, I ask her to please please try and jump next time, and she gives me puppy dog eyes and says "but mummy, I did!".

It's not easy being a sports mum to a kid who has no interest or desire to win. She really doesn't care. She quite likes the games, she loves playing with the other kids when she's waiting in line and she seems to have a talent for shot put. But suggest that she may like to beat someone and she'll look at you (ok, at me) like you're crazy. She just doesn't have that killer instinct. Which is just as well really, because she doesn't have any particular talent for it either.

But that's ok. My daughter is extremely gifted in areas that are hard to measure. She is incredibly kind and really cares about other people. She shares her love and possesions equally freely. She has a finely tuned sense of social justice and is beginning to stand up for people who can't stand up for themselves. She happily asked her friends to bring presents for puppies and kittens that don't have any home instead of presents for herself - how many 5 year olds could do that? She loves her baby brother with all her heart and happily (and sometimes unhappily) helps look after him as much as she can. In this mix, does it matter that she can't run or jump as well as the other kids?

No. It doesn't. But I'm still getting Jason to take her to competitions from now on. My blood pressure can't handle it.

Sermon 18-11-12

I strongly suggest you go here
 http://www.textweek.com/yearb/properb28.htm
before reading this one! It makes more sense that way.



We all know by now how much I like stories. I'm a reader. I'm a talker. I like to think I'm a listener. And I believe that every person's story has something to teach us about God and the way God works through peoples lives.
Just as every person has a story, so every person has a family. Not necessarily the incompetent father, happy home-maker mother and 2.3 or 1.8 or however many kids that people like to hold up as an ideal when they are trying to sell us a product or an idea, but a family of origin and often a family of choice. Sometimes these are the same. Sometimes they are not. I realise that my family is an advertisers dream – we have a male and female parent (who are even married!), a male and female child and we are very close to our extended family as well. Of course, our ideality may start to crack a little when people who would like to hold us up as some kind of standard realise that my husband doesn't go to Church, my daughter is a 5 year old feminist, my son wears pink and we are all actively gay friendly.
We are one form of a family, one form that works for us. But not all people have a family that looks like ours. We know functional families who are estranged from their biological parents and dysfunctional ones who should be. We know families with 2 mothers, or one mother, or no father, or 3 fathers. We know families with no children by choice, or many children by accident, or, tragically, no children by circumstances beyond their control. And it was these people who were at the top of my mind and my heart when we read Hannah's story.
It’s curious to see how often in even the Bible (dare one say, in especially the Bible?) the purposes of God somehow move forward not just despite familial dysfunction but sometimes even through it. We’ve got a load of dysfunction coming up in the Samuel story through the shenanigans of Hophni and Phineas—and Eli’s hand-wringing inability to do a blessed thing about it all. But we’ve got nettlesome family issues right in this opening chapter, too.



Hannah was desperate for a child. Many of us will have felt that longing, that feeling that our lives, our hearts, our stories are as of yet incomplete. Added to that yearning was the cruel fact that in ancient Israel a woman's worth lay in her virginity or her motherhood. Without a son, when Hannah's husband died she would be at the mercy of Peninnah, and I'm sure we can well imagine how that mercy would play out. Elkanah also seemed to miss the point – “how could you possibly want a child”, he asks, “when you've got me?”. The Bible doesn't record Hannah's reaction, but I like to think it may have involved violence. Elkanah also seems oblivious to his other wife's constant taunting. Or maybe he thought it shouldn't matter what Peninnah said, after all, Hannah must know she was his favourite!



At first glance, God seems as cruel as Peninnah. Peninnah is obviously cruel with her taunts, yet God seems equally cruel to shut Hannah’s womb. Is God the cause of every barren womb? If we say yes, then it is an easy jump to say God is the cause of every barren and hopeless situation, of every disease and disaster.
I do not believe this. I believe we live in a broken world with several causes of trouble. Some are tied to God’s gift of free will, the consequences of our own choices and/or the consequences of other people’s choices. Some situations are the work of the evil one and some come from the general state of brokenness found in living between Eden and Heaven. It’s consistent with God’s character to bring birth out of barrenness, hope out of hopelessness, but I’m having trouble with the idea of God causing the barrenness to begin with. Was the closing of her womb a special case because God had a special plan? Was it merely a misunderstanding of God’s timing? Did Hannah have to pray in order to nudge God’s memory and resulting action?
This leads to the second difficult question. Why does God answer Hannah’s prayer with a child while so many other prayers for children receive a “no” answer? Is it because she is more faithful? (as seen in her fervent prayers) She doesn’t doubt? (as seen in her attitude change after her encounter with Eli) Is it because of the bargain she makes with God to give the child over to God’s service? In fact the bargain might not be a bargain at all, but rather an illustration of Hannah’s faithfulness since all first born are to be the Lord’s. God does not request anything of her, yet Hannah makes the vow and sees it through. She brings her precious toddler to Eli, a man who has failed miserably in raising his own children.
I know God is not genie awaiting magic words, nor is God’s favor bought with promises or acts of great sacrifice. Yet, I am left with many questions. And I struggle to find a way to make sense of what I read, to bring it in line with my understanding of a life giving God, a Spirit which connects us all and our friend and companion Jesus Christ.
But when we look to Hannah's response, to both her heart wringing trouble and joyous conclusion, maybe this is where we find our God. When Hannah is in need, she doesn't hide from God, or take refuge behind easy platitudes. She doesn't waste time finding the perfect words or making sure she has the right posture to talk to God. She doesn't wait for the Priest to help her or let him regard her as less. She speaks from her heart to the God of her heart, without artifice or posturing. Her words of praise ring out today just as they did thousands of years ago, the praise of a woman's deepest joy being found in the depths of God's compassion.
How often do we remember to give thanks to God? How often do we celebrate the everyday miracles of our lives?
Today, of course, is one of those celebrations. Today we have the privilege of welcoming into God's Church a very special child. Levi's family have heard God calling them to bring Levi to be a part of our family, and we are blessed for it. Like Hannah, this family is praising God in the best way they know how – with joy and thanksgiving, adding an essential chapter in Levi's story, the one that starts with God.
Hanna's story is paired today in the Gospel with Mark 13:1-8 and Jesus’ words about how even the tragedies of life in this world (like wars, rumors of war, and earthquakes) somehow manage to be—in God’s sovereign hands—things that portend the birth of something new and good and not merely the death of all that we have ever known.
That’s good news for all of us who are able to fess up that our own lives are hardly straight lines that always move in the direction of the godly and the good and the pious. Of course, this is no excuse for sloppy living or behaving like a witch such as Peninnah (or for being as foggy as Eli) but it does provide a light of hope that our lives can still be vehicles for good, for the constant working of God.

Let me finish with a story. Morgan Wooten was a basketball coach. He coached at DeMatha High School in the DC area. His teams won 1274 games while losing only 192 times. He was considered by everyone who knew him to be one of the great ones. Well, everyone except his grandson.

Wooten is one of only three high school coaches in the Basketball Hall of Fame. At his induction, he told a story about his grandson's first day of school. The teacher asked Nick, “What's your favorite sport?” “Baseball,” he said.
The teacher knew who Nick's grandfather was. She was surprised, “Not basketball?” Nick said, “Nope. I don't know anybody who knows anything about basketball.”

The teacher was even more surprised, “But Nick, a lot of people think your Grandfather Wooten knows a lot about basketball. Nick snorted and laughed, “Oh no! He doesn’t know anything about basketball. I go to all his games and he never gets to play.”

Sometimes we see God the way Nick saw his grandfather. Because we see the game of life going on and have a hard time seeing the hand of God anywhere in it, we think, “God knows nothing about it,” or, “God cares nothing about it,” or, “God can't do anything about it,” because, after all, we never see God get in the game.

The Scripture readings today talk about the art of having faith in a world gone mad, of seeing God's hand in the wild whirlwind of life around us. They are intended to bring us reassurance of God's love when we go through hard times and God seems to be very far away. So let us pray.

Lord of Hosts, there are so many things we do not understand. Our lack of understanding does not diminish your goodness or your power. Help us to follow you even when the situation is desperate and the way unclear. Build in us a faith that seeks you boldly and honestly, that will persevere in the midst of disrespect and ridicule. Teach us to stand and to defend our faith when others question and misunderstand. You are our only hope and salvation. We need you near. Amen.

Dear Friend

Dear Friend,

This is a very hard letter to write. It is a letter that you will never see, because it would cause more hurt than I am willing to inflict. But it is a letter that needs to be written, because I am sore in my heart about what is to come.

You are a great person. You are kind, smart, very funny! You really care about the people around you and you are generous with your time and your gifts. You are Godparent to my child because I really thought we would be part of each other's lives forever. I still hope that, but I think it's not going to look the way I thought it would 5 years ago.

The thing is, with all you give (and it is a lot) you expect a lot in return. A lot of time, a lot of energy, a lot of pain. I am a very easy going person and I don't particularly like making waves, but you seem to need to hurt me whenever I hurt you, and I seem to hurt you fairly often. And I seem to just accept it. I never fight back, because I know that it's not worth the turmoil that would follow. I don't want to hurt you, offend you or cause problems for you, but it seems that that is what is happenning more and more often at the moment. As I grow as a person, as a Christian and as a woman, I seem to be less and less who I was when we met. This isn't a bad thing - we need to grow and change! - but it does seem to be a problem for you. I think we are too close, literally! I think a bit more physical space will help us to remain closer than when we see each other too often. Maybe we take each other a bit for granted? What I really mean is, maybe you take me a bit for granted. Maybe you assume that I will take your barbed comments and ignore them because that's what I do, that I will ignore the fact that you treated me with silence over something I still don't know but expect me to jump for you when you need me again. I wonder really how much you can like me when you often seem to assume the worst out of everything I say.

I am a harder person now than I used to be. I have more faith in myself. A lot of this is down to your friendship. You have helped make me who I am and I am better for it. I know you have noticed the distance i am putting between us and are resenting it. I know you are punishing me for it. I don't know if you are aware of this - I hope not. Because it isn't worthy of you.

You are my friend. I hope you will always be a part of my life. But right now I am going through a very introspective time and I am an introvert by nature. I am not willing to spend the time and energy that you desire or think you deserve. This is a time when I am looking after myself, my family, my relationship with God. I don't have the energy, or the inclination, to check everytime I speak to make sure I don't offend you, to worry everytime I call that you won't speak to me because of something I have done without ever knowing what it is.

I really, truly love you. I am thankful for all you have done for me. I hope and pray we will continue to be close for many years to come. Change is hard. Life is hard. But I hope we will both be the better for it.

I love you.

Woman Wisdom, Lady Sophia.

A sneak oeek at my semon for Sunday! I strongly suggest you read the proverbs and Gospel reading before hand though, it makes much more sense in context!

http://www.textweek.com/yearb/properb20.htm

Today in our readings we are celebrating. And we are celebrating some of those who were, and still are, the lesser and least in our society. Today we are celebrating women and children. We are celebrating servants and slaves. We are celebrating Woman Wisdom, Sophia, and all that she brings. We are celebrating a good and obedient wife... hang on. Let's back up a bit and have a closer look at this well known reading. What is the Spirit saying to the Church today?

We recognise in ancient texts the power dynamics that allow men to idealise female virtue in terms that benefit men and often harm women. Notice that this text cannot even imagine a virtuous woman who is unmarried, that is, who is not in relation to a male as wife. It is easy to dismiss this, “oh well, that was then and this is now, we're over that sort of thing” (ha, I wish) or “another disgraceful example of the patriarchy at work! That poor ideal woman is working all the time, from dawn till dusk, in every place for every person! Outrageous!”. But neither of these approaches do justice to what is in a lot of ways a critical understanding about the way we think about God and each other.

Proverbs is a book of instruction, helping us learn how to live in a way that brings us closer to God. They are much concerned with the gaining and keeping of wisdom – what can seem like foolishness to the wider world. These texts put much of this teaching about wisdom in the mouth of "Woman Wisdom," the personification of wisdom in Hebrew Scripture as well as in much of the ancient world. She calls upon humans to walk in her ways and follow her path. Proverbs 31, then, is set in the larger context of wisdom literature, and the more immediate context of Woman Wisdom.

There are some unusual aspects to this text that can go unnoticed. Firstly, a lot of the work this ideal woman is doing is not contained to the sphere traditionally allowed for women. While she clearly takes care of her husband and household and excels at domestic activities she is quite active outside the home as well. She is a successful businesswoman, considering a field and buying it , and is a viticulturist to boot. She is an entrepreneur who works late into the evening , who plans ahead , and who is not idle . She knows how to dress for success and how to sell goods for a profit. Her work compares favourably to merchant marines , and one suspects that the reason her husband is well known is because of her, not vice versa!

But this amazing paragon of virtue is not merely successful in worldly matters. She is no uncaring tycoon, instead she “opens her hand to the poor and reaches our her hands to the needy”. She does not remain silent – her voice is filled with wisdom and the “teaching of kindness”.

Truly this woman is a paragon of virtue. One wonders how far a young man in ancient Israel would have had to look to find such perfection. And also, what exactly he was planning on offering in return.

So we've had a look at what this text does say, now let's have a look at what it doesn't.

No where does it say anything about this paragon being subject to her husband. She is not obedient. She does not submit. She leads her own life rather than following someone else's. She pursues her own ends rather than obeying orders. There is no hint that her industry is not her own, that she is demure or deferential, or that her pursuits are directed by others. This is an independent individual who is reliant on no other human for her success or worth.

Secondly, there is nothing mentioned about pregnancy or childbirth, traditionally key credentials for womanhood in the ancient world. No where is she identified or given status by her children. She is notably not dedicating her life to them, not deriving her sense of being from them. Being a mother is but a small part of her identity. Times change hey?

Finally, nothing is said about he appearance. Nothing. She could be tall, short, big, small, botoxed within an inch of her life (although I suspect we are in the wrong era for that) or gray haired and loving it. Her appearance is completely irrelevant. This may be because we are talking about a mythical figure – what could Woman Wisdom look like? Interestingly, the scriptures contain many descriptions of what God is like, but never any describing God's appearance... whenever my RE students ask what God looks like, I explain that without a physical body it is hard to look like anything!

So when we look at this ideal, this aspiration, what we find is a woman who answers to no one but God, who is praised and loved by her family but not defined by them, who works hard in many spheres not normally considered suitable for her sex and who throughout it all has an aura of kindness and generosity. We find someone who we can all look up to, someone who can not be contained within the boundaries of her sex and situation but who breaks through them in the power of love. A revolutionary, a seer, a woman. Someone with no power in the world, but all the power from God.

So how do we get there? How do we become such a person, or mythological figure, ourselves?

Let's look to the gospel for help with this one. We all know that Jesus rebuked his disciples and told them they should be as a child. I'm sure we've all heard sermons about how pure and innocent these lovely children are. I'm sorry, have you MET my children? Adorable, yes. Lovable, certainly. But pure? Perfect? Without flaw? Not so much. What is it about children, what is this quality that allows them to be so close to God?

I would like to go back to verse 32 to answer this question. “But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him,” They were afraid to ask. Think about it. They were afraid of looking stupid, of getting it wrong. In our own time, no one wants to look uninformed, confused, or clueless. We withhold our toughest questions, often within our own churches and within Christian fellowship. We pretend we don't have hard questions. Yet the deepest mysteries of life do indeed elude us. Why do good people suffer? Why are humans so brutal to one another? Why does evil succeed? If God's own Son is betrayed and killed, then no one is safe. Why did God set up a world like this?

Why ask our hard questions? Because we withhold these questions at our own peril.

Verse 34 reveals what happens to the disciples when they sidestep the real questions they are afraid to ask -- they turn to arguing with each other, squabbling among themselves over petty issues of rank and status (verse 34). There is a direct line drawn from verse 32 to verse 34. When the disciples avoid asking hard questions, they focus on posturing about who is right.

We know this too well in the church. How would this story be different if the disciples had asked Jesus their questions? What kind of conversation might have ensued between Jesus and the disciples? What kind of relationship would it have engendered with each other?

How would our stories be different if we ask Jesus our questions? What kind of conversations might we pursue with Jesus? How would our life as disciples together be different as a result?

There may have been a time or two when I've gotten heartily sick of my daughter's questions. There may have been times when I've said the words I always promised myself would never cross my lips; “because I said so!”. But to ask is to learn, and to learn is to grow. If we don't ask the questions because we may not like the answers, we are doing ourselves a disservice. If we are too afraid of how we will look to take a risk, to venture outside the boundaries we have set for ourselves or had set for us by those around us, we lose the opportunity to come closer to the God who is our truth and our light.

The good news is that Jesus welcomes us even when we do get it wrong. We have the example of Woman Wisdom in front of us, an example that none of us can ever live up to, but it is in the trying, the questioning, even the falling, that we are most authentically ourselves and most authentically children of God. So let's ask those hard questions. Let's take that risk. And let's do it in the knowledge that no matter what, God has our back.

Amen.

I have copied this directly off another blog - with permission of course. Now I'm going to print it off and read it to Abby. Every year.

Dear Chase,
Hey, baby.
Tomorrow is a big day. Third Grade -- wow.
Chase -- When I was in third grade, there was a little boy in my class named Adam.
Adam looked a little different and he wore funny clothes and sometimes he even smelled a little bit. Adam didn't smile. He hung his head low and he never looked at anyone at all. Adam never did his homework. I don't think his parents reminded him like yours do. The other kids teased Adam a lot. Whenever they did, his head hung lower and lower and lower. I never teased him, but I never told the other kids to stop, either.
And I never talked to Adam, not once. I never invited him to sit next to me at lunch, or to play with me at recess. Instead, he sat and played by himself. He must have been very lonely.
I still think about Adam every day. I wonder if Adam remembers me? Probably not. I bet if I'd asked him to play, just once, he'd still remember me.
I think that God puts people in our lives as gifts to us. The children in your class this year, they are some of God's gifts to you.
So please treat each one like a gift from God. Every single one.
Baby, if you see a child being left out, or hurt, or teased, a part of your heart will hurt a little. Your daddy and I want you to trust that heartache. Your whole life, we want you to notice and trust your heartache. That heartache is called compassion, and it is God's signal to you to do something. It is God saying, Chase! Wake up! One of my babies is hurting! Do something to help! Whenever you feel compassion -- be thrilled! It means God is speaking to you, and that is magic. It means He trusts you and needs you.
Sometimes the magic of compassion will make you step into the middle of a bad situation right away.
Compassion might lead you to tell a teaser to stop it and then ask the teased kid to play. You might invite a left-out kid to sit next to you at lunch. You might choose a kid for your team first who usually gets chosen last. These things will be hard to do, but you can do hard things.
Sometimes you will feel compassion but you won't step in right away. That's okay, too. You might choose instead to tell your teacher and then tell us. We are on your team -- we are on your whole class's team. Asking for help for someone who is hurting is not tattling, it is doing the right thing. If someone in your class needs help, please tell me, baby. We will make a plan to help together.
When God speaks to you by making your heart hurt for another, by giving you compassion, just do something. Please do not ignore God whispering to you. I so wish I had not ignored God when He spoke to me about Adam. I remember Him trying, I remember feeling compassion, but I chose fear over compassion. I wish I hadn't. Adam could have used a friend and I could have, too.
Chase -- We do not care if you are the smartest or fastest or coolest or funniest. There will be lots of contests at school, and we don't care if you win a single one of them. We don't care if you get straight As. We don't care if the girls think you're cute or whether you're picked first or last for kickball at recess. We don't care if you are your teacher's favorite or not. We don't care if you have the best clothes or most Pokemon cards or coolest gadgets. We just don't care.
We don't send you to school to become the best at anything at all. We already love you as much as we possibly could. You do not have to earn our love or pride and you can't lose it. That's done.
We send you to school to practice being brave and kind.
Kind people are brave people. Brave is not a feeling that you should wait for. It is a decision. It is a decision that compassion is more important than fear, than fitting in, than following the crowd.
Trust me, baby, it is. It is more important.
Don't try to be the best this year, honey.
Just be grateful and kind and brave. That's all you ever need to be.
Take care of those classmates of yours, and your teacher, too. You Belong to Each Other. You are one lucky boy... with all of these new gifts to unwrap this year.
I love you so much that my heart might explode.
Enjoy and cherish your gifts.
And thank you for being my favorite gift of all time.
Love,
Mama

Out and Proud

It seems it's not 'cool' or 'done' to be proud of yourself anymore. We aren't supposed to say or think 'good' things about ourselves, in case people think we're 'up ourselves' or that we are judging people who don't do things the way we do.

Well, stuff that.

I've had enough negativity for the moment. I've had enough of reading about how people are making stuff up on facebook just to make themselves look good (really?) or about how I shouldn't mention any of my own successes because they might make the person I'm talking to feel inadequate. I make mistakes (oh Lordy, do I make mistakes) but you know what? There are some things I am damn proud of and I own them. Here's a few.

I am proud that I have such a great, adult relationship with my parents and my brother. My mum is my best friend. My Dad will always do what is best for me and my brother always has my back. And you know what? It's because we've ALL worked at it. Relationships are hard work. We have chosen to put the time and energy into ours and it has paid off.

I am proud that my husband and I still love each other. More all the time. And I am proud that we are honest with each other and that we do work through our issues... eventually.

I am proud that my big girl has lovely manners and has a God awareness that enhances her life.

I am proud that my baby boy has never had formula or cried for more than a few minutes without a cuddle. That he has been carried, not pushed, and that he is really securely attached to his family. And that he sometimes says 'da' ('Ta'. We're working on it.)

I am proud that I have my black belt. Come on, how cool is that?

I am proud that I have two full degrees. I worked hard for those degrees, and I get good marks.

I am... humbled and overwhelmed that I will probably be ordained. There is no pride there, that is nothing that I have done that has made this happen... there is nothing to be proud of in trying to follow God's will. Not proud, but... satisfied. Deeper than pride. More meaningful. Soul deep.

That's my list. The things I am most proud of in my life. And there will be more, because I live my life in a way that lets me be proud of what I have achieved. And you know what? I don't think I am any better than a formula mum who used a pram from day dot and is divorced with no higher education. I really don't. Because being proud of MYSELF does not make me 'unproud' of anyone else. I can enjoy my successes without needing you to share them. Because wouldn't life be boring if we were all the same?