Wholly Yours, Holy One

(Yet AGAIN, I'm posting this several hours after I wrote this)

After two hours of arguing over the matter, Paxton is finally down for a nap! Yes, it’s too late for a nap and he probably won’t want to go to sleep on time tonight but I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Sometimes the little victories need to be celebrated in life. Also an accomplishment, I’m finally starting to feel really cozy here. This has various meanings, but right now it means burning a candle that smells like Christmas (yes, it’s premature) since there is simply no feasible way that we are going to have a tree this year while eating some delicious tomato basil soup. I’ve also been stocked up on eggnog for about two weeks now. The holidays never had too much significance in the past, but these days the concept of them has taken on a whole new meaning. It took a while before I was really able to fully feel like a family with Paxton, it was as if he was some sort of extension of what I consider to be my immediate family (Mom, Dad, and Madison). And while he certainly is that, he is also my “new” family. That might not make a whole lot of sense when put into words, but basically, for a good while I felt sort of awkward about being young and single, like I was somehow excluded from the “Mom’s club” or that he wasn’t entirely mine. I’ve encountered moms that are condescending because of my life stage, but I just remind myself that no one really knows what they’re doing when it comes to parenting. It’s something we figure out along the way. I am no less significant in Paxton’s life and no less of a parent because of my age.

Anyways, I think in general Moms are way too hard on themselves. I was reading an op-ed piece by feminist Erica Jong (find it here) she touches on the new fad of attachment parenting and what it means to be a mother in today’s world. She definitely makes some valid points as to how destructive it is to constantly rescue a child from making their own mistakes. Of course babies want to be held all the time, but when we give into their every desire, we’re not best preparing them for a world that is no stranger to rejection and hurt. I know that if Paxton does have a similar temperament as his mother, hovering is probably the most volatile thing that I could do. We can’t prevent their every misstep, and it really isn’t our responsibility to do so. Don’t misunderstand me, I’ll still be Mamma Bear, but I also know that it is a great disservice to Pax if I don’t encourage self-sufficiency and acceptance of responsibility when necessary. Jong raises important questions about the pressures that we as mothers feel but I don’t agree with her every opinion – she somewhat condemns cloth-diapering, baby wearing (it’s an odd term – the concept of having baby strapped to Mom/Dad as a way to increase bonding) and homemade baby food, all of which we do or did.

For us, the Green Movement is an important commitment that we’ve made, one that I really wish that more Christians would take initiative in. It isn’t always the most convenient solution but we were only given one Earth, and it isn’t someone else’s duty to take care of it. Everyone generates waste, and as technology brings us closer and closer to being able to reduce the negative impacts that we have on nature, I don’t think it’s ethical to try and pass that torch along to someone else. Moms are among the most wasteful of them all. Disposable diapers take up to 500 years to decompose in a landfill. In a baby’s first year alone they will go through an average of 2,788 diaper changes. So, as a response to Jong, I don’t feel that my involvement in the Green Movement is somehow disabling me as a woman nor trapping and oppressing me as a Mother. Ideals on parenting will always be at the forefront of society because humans are constantly breeding. Paxton and I are content doing things one way but I’m okay with the fact that our way wouldn’t work for a lot of others. Motherhood can be a time of great insecurity or an opportunity for uninhibited empowerment. As most things in life, it’s what you decide to make of it.

Woo, that was a much longer rant than I had intended on! Sometimes I just get too excited about certain subjects. Speaking of, one topic that I’m particularly fired up about right now is Sozo. Let me explain. It all started with Bethel church’s Sozo ministry. After hearing such great stories of restoration, my church decided to adopt it as well. “Sozo” in Greek means “to save, to heal, to deliver.” Basically, it’s an inner-healing ministry which seeks to identify anything that might be impeding one’s ability to connect with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This takes the form of a two-on-one session that pairs two intercessors with one person who is seeking restoration. The session is essentially a conversation with the Holy Spirit in which the person in question talks openly with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. It is typically led by questions from the intercessors, which help to pinpoint any broken aspects of these relationships. The Father is compared to our image or concept of our earthly father, Jesus to a sibling, and the Holy Spirit our Mother. It isn’t all solely based on these perceptions, but because there are often broken aspects of these relationships, they are important to consider. There were areas of conflict in my life that I wasn’t even aware existed and repair was quickly delivered. My experience was based heavily on images of holiday cheer that kept flashing through my mind. The Lord began to reveal to me that the sort of joy that is experienced during the Christmas season is obtainable all throughout the year, and what’s more is, I heard Him whispering to me that He desperately desires that constant joy and wholeness for me. The time spent allowed me to drive out many of the lies the enemy tells me that so often cloud my vision.

To continue sentiment of exuberance, a few days before my Sozo session, in the midst of a rather weary period, I finally decided that in an effort to eschew the negativity that was surrounding me, I would take the simple step of opening my curtains and let the light in. Upon doing so, I was flooded with this indescribable elation. I felt a maniacal sense of happiness and relief. It was as though I had taken a two-week vacation and was returning with a renewed sense of hope and optimism.

He is the Cleanser of spirits and Deliverer of Truth. He has spoken sweet words of encouragement and been faithful in the acknowledgment of my prayers. Holy Spirit, I am grateful for your presence. Thank you for pronouncing purpose over our lives.

To eternal Thanksgiving,

Lauren

(Again, this is one that I started on Friday and hadn’t gotten around to posting until now)

Sitting here on the couch in my living room, 7:00 feels like midnight. Pax and I are going to a party later, so I’ve put him to bed early so that he won’t miss an opportunity to entertain in a couple of hours. He is much better at parties than I am…what a strange realization to have about an eleven month old. Babies may be the most unpredictable of all humanity, but there are a few things that I know to be true about P, like that he prefers his deli meats for lunch, not dinner, or that telling him “no” is the equivalent of begging him to do something. He’s one strong-willed little dude and I have no doubt that he’s going to be one of those kids that never says no to a challenge. I recognize many of his character traits as ones that I too possess so I know that this journey is going to (at the very least) be an interesting one.

When I was younger, I spent a lot of time comparing myself to my big sister. I was absolutely convinced that my parents loved her more because she was more inclined to follow the rules. Even though Paxton and I are beginning to face some challenges in the way of obedience (to the extent that he can comprehend at less than a year), there isn’t a thing that I would change about him. And I feel like I can make this statement with certainty, having had another baby as a roommate for a few months. I also finally understand that my parents were never trying to mold me into something else either, they simply didn’t know WHAT to do with me from time to time. And so my prayer for Paxton to have a teachable spirit begins…

Anyways, it took a lot of straightening out in my head before I realized that God wasn’t trying to make me into someone else either. I only recently discovered that not only does the Lord cherish my bold (for lack of a better term) spirit but He also has a much better idea of what to do with it than I do. If you’ve been exposed to the stereotypical Christian youth group as many times as I have, you as well might be under the impression that God only has a heart for a certain mold of person. I pray for the expulsion of this lie.

Ephesians 2:10:

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Because I wrote this a few days ago, I feel as though I can't quite "end" it with much resolution since the moment has come and gone, but I can sign off with assurance that I will post again soon, as my weekend (and the week thus far) was full of little revelations and such.

To restoration and a really good cup of tea,

Lauren

I Am My Beloved's and He is Mine

First of all, I'd just like to thank those of you who read my blog and have left feedback through way of comment or e-mail. Again I'll mention what a crazy last couple of weeks it has been and your encouragement has really provided me with renewal and hope. Moving on...

I've learned more from watching my son grow than from anything I've soaked up in school or anywhere else. As he reaches that final stretch in his attempts to walk, he isn't able to do so not because he is incapable, but rather because he is afraid - somewhat ironic for the one who so thoroughly enjoys reeking havoc otherwise. The Lord has offered me a very visible comparison in my life, as what stands between me and Him is not a mountain and a valley like it used to be but instead a tiny creek whose waters I'm trying to command the flow of. I know how much would change for Paxton if he just took that first step, and I wonder what would happen in my life if I finally just gave it all up. I've been fighting and resisting a lot over this past week and I thought it was just an expression of how homesick I am, but after about two hours of tears on Friday, I heard my Savior saying "Come home," and I knew he didn't mean to Dallas.

Then at church last night, after a few consecutive weeks of bad news, I felt the Lord delivering such sweet promises of joy and restoration. We had share time, and there were a slew of positive prophetic words that mostly revolved around Him welcoming us to partake in the message of how He pursues us so relentlessly. A very tangible atmosphere of hope was present as He beckoned to us near to remind that He is the Anointer and He takes delight in His children. I think that we do the dance a lot where we pretend to grasp that He loves us and cherishes us and so on but do we really TRULY understand that he desperately wants us? In the secret places of my heart, I know that there are unruly places that I have deemed so unlovable and undesirable that I conceal them from others with all that I have. There are things that I have done that seem impossible to compensate for. But He loves the most grotesque corners of our beings. And the great thing is, he doesn't ask us to be anything that we aren't. He wants us even in our most vulnerable and broken states...He wants especially then.

So finally, I pray that this season brings dancing and laughter and joy. As I was reminded last night by one particularly wise fellow, He doesn't ask us to take ourselves nearly as seriously as society says that we ought. God did create humor, after all. So when you find yourself in a spot where you're critiquing every aspect of every minute detail, ask yourself if this drive towards perfectionism is really what was intended of you. I know that this has been a struggle of mine that I often fail to recognize because we've all been programmed to strive for success so much so that we don't realize the corrosiveness that coincides with humans attempting to be in control of our own behavior. So let it go and lighten up, I promise you won't be sorry.

In Him there is rest,

Lauren

Clarification, etc.

Dear cheesy radio station that I still listen to for reason unbeknownst to even myself, optimism is inarguably a good thing but I’ve had it with your Christian fluff. Humans are capable of experiencing a wide array of emotions and I’m pretty sure that there’s reason for this. To pretend that everything is okay in the midst of crisis and chaos is to deny oneself the ability to become vulnerable enough to let Christ intervene. Furthermore, it paints an extremely false picture of faith. If everything were easy all the time, faith would be practically meaningless. There is no need to advertise Christianity as a means to end all pain.

This world is one strange place and ultimately we’re all just trying to figure out what it's all about. I don’t think that it’s our job to run around shoving our revelations and beliefs down other people’s throats. Take Solomon for instance, God bestowed upon him infinite wisdom not so that he could correct everyone else's foolishness. Even the best of intentions can be construed as condescension. The inextricable stigma attached to Christianity deems us judgmental and close-minded. That may not be true for all of us but we didn’t get that reputation from nowhere. We’ve got to stop making assumptions about where other people are in life and start LISTENING. The most effective evangelism doesn’t come from shoving beliefs down someone’s throat, but rather from patiently and carefully constructing a relationship with someone. What’s more is, I’ve noticed that a lot of conversion attempts are more an effort for said Christian to feel better about themselves than for the other person to actually come to form a meaningful relationship with Christ. Just like marriage doesn’t stop at “I do”, our job isn’t finished once someone welcomes Christ into their lives. Discipleship and availability are vital parts of pouring into someone.

Listening to this particular radio station a couple of days ago, there was a segment in which listeners were encouraged to call into to tell the DJ about something “selfless” that they’d done for another person that day. I cannot even reasonably express how disgusted I was by this. We’ve got to start realizing that we aren’t God. We are merely a means through which Truth can be spoken.

The idea of serving as a vessel for Christ leads me to another point that I think it’s important to touch on. We often place a supernatural importance on the church. But in reality, the church is not a building. In fact, the word “church” is derived from the Greek “Ekklesia” which translates to “Called-Out Ones”. (In Classical Greek this actually holds a political meaning but nonetheless, that makes it “an assembly of citizens summoned by the crier”) We are the church. But until we can die to self enough to grasp that change within ourselves as a body is not only desirable but absolutely essential, we will serve as an interference between the Divine and humanity. 

Romans 12:3-5 reads:

 3 For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. 4 For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, 5 so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others

God loves the murderer, the pedophile, the woman who had six abortions, the homosexuals, the prostitutes, the alcoholics, and whoever else has been caste out by society just as much as he loves you. And let us not forget that God is everywhere and everything. We've got to start expanding our comprehension of what "God" is and where He lives. He is everywhere, sometimes it just takes a second glance before it is readily apparent.

Anyway, I apologize for this rather extensive rant and please note that I'm no exception to this rule. Below I've posted a poem by Derrick Brown and though it wasn't written for the meaning that I assign to it, this particular piece has come to have spiritual significance to me.



To embracing change,

Lauren

And Somedays, They Last Longer Than Others

I would like to start off by saying that I have no "real" justification for taking so long to update my blog. Time has been molasses over the past two weeks - well, in the way that time does, eternal days that accumulate collectively and then seem so fleeting in retrospect - but practically everything that could have gone wrong has, so I haven't exactly been bursting at the seams with encouraging words. Even my little one, who is usually bubbling with mischief and whimsy and all that is good is currently ill so I've had to find other ways to satiate my drive for adventure. Today that included going to a pro-life/pro-choice rally on campus (it's a weeklong event so Pax and I are discussing the possibility of making an appearance tomorrow) and finally tapping into some uninhibited dance moves. Yes, that's correct, I locked the doors and decided to dance. And what should happen when I went to turn on my ipod? Ah, my headphones were broken. Fortunately it didn't prevent me from seeking alternative means to accomplish my impromptu dance party but it was the straw that broke the camels back. I realize that this phrase usually carries a negative connotation, but tonight it presented itself in a much different light. I started laughing hysterically. If anything (and this comparison is undoubtedly quite presumptuous on my part), at least I can somewhat get a glimpse into what it must've been like for Job. At the end of the day though, I can sit around and mope about some misfortune that'll probably pass in a week or two - this is my first bout of true homesickness - or I can dance like a fool in my living room and say "Screw you demons! Your shenanigans have authority over me no more! Be gone with all of you!"

And if it wasn't self-evident enough, I'm learning to be more self-assured. There's something so empowering about this season in my life. While I'm still relying on the support of my awesomely patient and supportive family, friends, and boyfriend, I'm finally getting the hang of carving my own way and I'm finally beginning to hear what my own voice sounds like. Several months ago, I had an encounter with a recently divorced woman who had just moved to Texas. She accepted a temp manicurist position at a local Dallas spa and I happened to be there for an entirely unrelated thing but they were running behind and offered me a manicure to "appease" my demand for high-quality service that I both fortunately and unfortunately inherited from my father. Anyway, she and I entered into a conversation that started with the typical small talk and as I asked how she ended up in Dallas. As she began to tell me that she moved to live with her sister after divorcing her husband, I was rather quick to vocalize my general distrust of the male population (which has, for the record, since restored itself). Before I could finish listing my grievances/explaining to her the ups and downs of raising a child sans father, she cut me off rather abruptly and told me this: "I used to think that I needed to tell everyone what it was that I was going through so that they might understand or it might help to explain why I was as I was. But then I began to realize that I am who I am and I don't need an excuse for that." This statement totally rocked my world. At the time I couldn't imagine toting my precious P around, who used to take advantage of every opportunity to cry, and not making apologies and offering excuses to everyone around. (Sam - my boyfriend - once said in response to the judgmental eyes that we received upon the incitement of one of Paxton's breakdowns at some coffee shop, "Oh! You think YOU'RE tired of hearing him cry!?" I have an unyielding respect for the way that he manages to tackle stressful situations)

Today, some five or so months later, I'm finally beginning to understand what this lady meant. While obviously I'm not proposing that we approach the world with a general spirit of disregard, I do think that we should make a more conscious effort to quit attempting to explain ourselves to others. We are all existing in exactly the place that we are supposed to be. I happen to find a whole lot of comfort in the notion that we are divinely created with meticulously mapped paths. This is why I can find solace in a string of fourteen bad days because I know that He makes no mistakes.

I have a painting hanging up in my home that my Mom did for me. It reads "Don't wait for the storm to pass, learn to dance in the rain". As for me, I'm going to dance until I can't feel myself move anymore.

To splashing through the puddles,

Lauren