Mini Me

If you have looked at my Facebook page this week you know that I purchased my daughter a V-Tech laptop this week. I have been thinking about doing it for awhile mainly because she has been jumping on my computer and then getting incredibly upset when I kick her off. I thought it would be cute for her to have her own little laptop so she could be just like mommy.

One of the most disappointing things I have learned about being a parent is kids are programmed by actions not words. They are little mirrors of all the stupid stuff we do. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the craziest mommy of all." Well after this whole laptop computer week we can all point the finger at yours truly because apparently, if my daughters actions mean anything, I am a workaholic tyrant.

At first it was cute. Us sitting together both typing away. Me floating back and forth between the church website I am creating and Facebook. Her playing little letter and number games. I was actually surprised by how much she was entertained by it since it said 3 years and up on the box...(which I would be lying if I did not admit I proudly thought "wow my kid is a genius!") But then she decided she needed to be on her play phone and typing. And then she refused to go to bed without both next to her. And then in the morning when I told her it was time to eat breakfast in my cheery mommy voice she glared at me while on her laptop and in this deep grainy voice yelled, "I am working!" I now realize that it is quite possible my daughter has turned into Gollam from Lord of the Rings: the VTech laptop is her precious.

It is hard to be a working mom. *It's hard to be a mom regardless, but the guilt of being a working mom sticks to my heart like gravy. I try to work at home as much as I can because I feel guilty for not being home when I am at work which triggers this feeling like I need to do more work to make up for not being at work and its just this sick cycle of trying to be the mom I want to be and the pastor I want to be: neither of which are realistic for a person who needs to sleep or eat or use the bathroom. If I could cut those things out I might be successful. Probably not.

So witnessing my daughter yell at her dad and I to "Stop It!" when we kissed goodbye because she was "working!" as she officially became a total insane maniac Precious on her lap was pretty much the equivalent of the experience I had of stepping on and killing a live mouse in the church parking lot a few weeks ago. Well, not that disgusting but just as upsetting. I have created a monster.

This wasn't a bullet point on my parenting power point. I was very specific in the whole strategic planning parenting session. I want to be the fun mommy who makes cupcakes and goes on field trips. The one who hosts princess parties and sits in the front row of all her little recitals. I want to be the one to put her hair in a ponytail and get her dressed in the morning and be the one who picks her up from preschool. I never planned on being the computer obsessed workaholic role model who drives her child into burnout by the age of two and a half. I know that I am focused and a little intense sometimes but its hard to see how that looks in a tiny living mirror. I wish I could just tell Fiona, "alright crazy, chill out, VTech doesn't need a new baby genius to hack all their games." But my ultimate frustration is with myself and how the attempt to be perfect looks like in the form of a two year old; like complete ridiculous madness. But before I warn her she is going to be the first toddler in a white padded room if she doesn't take it down a notch it might be up to me to chill out, turn off the technology and accept that I am being the best mom and the best pastor I can be while trying to balance it all.

Ninja Ministry

During lunch with a leader in our congregation this week it was brought to my attention that there was a concern that I would be overshadowed by the Senior Pastor. (Stop Laughing). It wasn't saying anything bad about either of us it was more an acknowledgement that I am a very small soft spoken young lady and the senior pastor is a very tall man with a strong voice. And they do have validity in their concern. I do feel rather small when standing next to him and rather quiet when singing during service next to him. (He sings very loud; Wesley would be proud).

Still, regardless of the difference in physical size and vocal strength, I do not feel small working next to him. I imagine it would be hard to make me feel small. Fiona has this book about a cute baby dragon that keeps getting bigger and bigger and bigger because no one in the family will believe that dragons are real...I always like to think of myself as the dragon. The smaller I am expected to be, the bigger I grow. It is obviously written by a feminist.

Upon arriving in a new ministry setting, I am used to being asked if I am a member of the youth group, being patted on the head and told I am cute, and hearing the most common remark that I am young enough to be their child or their grandchild. Maybe it should, but none of this offends me. I am 'cute' and little...and young enough to be their daughter or granddaughter. When I begin ministry at a new congregation it makes sense that they wouldn't know what to expect from me. That they would be wondering if, like a dragon, little cute young ministers exist.

So in the midst of this I am thinking perhaps I should make a warning sign (with pink glitter of course): "Beware of the Little Minister. She has Ninja skills."

In the Japanese culture, Ninjas are covert agents specializing in unorthodox arts of war. They are masters of disguise. I love the idea of all of us being Ninjas of Ministry. Surprising people with our gifts and graces. Who would ever think that this little girl who could be your granddaughter might just end up being the one who inspires you to grow in your faith with a sermon? Or sit beside you and hold your hand during a time of sadness?  Or facilitate the change that will bring vitality and health to the Body of Christ?

The Holy Spirit works through all of us in mysterious ways. For some of us that means living as ministers in disguise. But regardless of our acknowledgment of the Spirit's ability to work in ninja ways, ignoring the possibilities of the unexpected only make the power of the unexpectedness get bigger and bigger. So, I guess what I am saying is that, no, although I worry about many things in my ministry, being overshadowed by anyone has never crossed my mind. In the Body of Christ there is a place for everyone, there is enough work to go around, there is a passion in all of us waiting to be lit...

The G-Force in Parenting

Now that we are city living our family has gotten into the habit of taking an evening walk. An effort mainly to exercise the dog and calm the demon child before bedtime. It hasn't proved harmful to our marital relationship either. Time apart. No phones...most of the time. Just conversations, usually about churches, hopes, dreams and the all the boring stuff in between.


Unlike the long hikes on the Evergreen trails, now we see lots of people on our walks. Cars passing by. Young couples holding hands who stop to say how cute Fiona is, always noting how big her blue eyes are. My favorite is when people then follow it up by telling me we look alike. (Gotta take it where you can when your a mom!)


In the comfort of our new family routine it caught us all by surprise to hear a man shouting, literally screaming in his car. He was out of control. The car was abruptly moving forward and slamming on its breaks. I guess I thought maybe it was a marital argument that had gone too far. I've actually seen that before, more than once. But as the SUV pulled past us we saw that only a young boy sat in the car. A boy maybe somewhere between 7 and 10 yelling back in a shaky voice "You don't care about anything...all you do is yell" while the man continued to scream "That is why I am mad!" over and over again. And then they were gone.



I have always had a soft spot for children and animals, ever since I was a kid. It has always been very upsetting to see either a child or an animal treated badly but ever since I became a mom my kid protection/sympathies have gone off the charts. I can't watch television shows where children are victims of crimes, movies about children in bad situations are out of the question, and stories about children who are in abusive situations will ruminate in my mind for months.



It is no doubt that witnessing the snapshot of the life of this young boy will be no different...that it will be something I think about for a long time. Wondering if he is okay, if there is anyone to love and support and protect him from the rage of his father. If he will be broken down by fear and criticism or if by some miraculous event he will be able to rise above and believe in himself, love himself, find a worth in himself; things the actions and words of his father never showed him.



Perhaps becoming a mother has taken away any tolerance for child abuse and mistreatment because being a mother has shown me how truly vulnerable our children are; how absolutely dependent they are on us for their care. It is the dependency and vulnerability of our children that give us as parents an ultimate power and dangerous potential to harm our children if our hearts and minds are not in healthy places.



Christian parents face what seems to be a variety of decisions today when we attempt to allow our faith to guide our parenting style. There is the ever too popular models of fear and intimidation, corporeal punishment and cruelty for the purposes of controlling our child's will or quite ironically I suppose "saving their souls(?). Most of us are already aware of the groups to which I am referring to...but it seems that there should be a way (and there is) to let an image of a loving and grace-filled God to show us how to parent our children. A God who invites us back no matter how many times we walk away, a God who expects nothing in return for Her gift of limitless love.



John calls me a hippie parent. He says that as a high strung controlling person my parenting style has surprised him. Okay I added the descriptors but that is why he is surprised. But if I have to explain where my parenting style comes from and why I parent the way I do it is directly related to the role God plays in my life. A God who creates possibilities out of my messes, whose presence comforts me when I conflicted, and who never fails to offer forgiveness regardless of those incredibly stupid things I do knowingly or unknowingly. My God allows me to learn hard lessons by sprinkling (sometimes outright dumping) grace on my path and sending gentle winds (or tornadoes) of change to guide me in new directions. Just as God desires for me to become the best person I can be in relationship to myself and others in this world, so too will I try to empower Fiona to see in herself what God sees in all of us-unlimited possibility for joyful creation.


I also believe that the Bible and the experiences of our lives lives teach us that our God is a God of redemption and reconciliation, which is priceless in parenting. We will all give our children something to talk about in therapy. Some unhealthy habit(s) to carry into their own parenting style. But no matter how far we've gone or how ugly and selfish we have been it will never be too late to tell our children we are sorry, we were wrong. That we are proud of them for who they are and will and have become not because of what they have accomplished or how closely they have come to meeting our subjective expectations but because they are beautiful creations of God, pure and simple.

Reconciliation may not take the happily ever after ending of our imaginations, but more the mysterious and imperfect path that God has quilted together for us to walk toward a more loving relationship. In Christian parenting, our request for forgiveness and our willingness to change our behaviors is the first step towards the mountain which is reconciliation in broken relationships with our children.

I hope that reconciliation will someday be possible for this boy and his father because in spite of all the other supportive and loving people that boy has in his life, he only has one dad, and what his dad says and how he treats him will affect the way he sees himself and treats others for the rest of his life. Parenting is serious business. But it is also a journey. We learn as we go. I have to believe that no parent intends to hurt their child or break their Spirit. Perhaps it is what they learned through religion, or how they were raised as children, or the symptoms of an addiction or mental illness, but my theology undoubtedly leads me to hold True that it is wrong to rule your home with fear and intimidation.

As I write this Fiona sits on her dads lap. They are watching "The Littles," an incredibly annoying cartoon that John used to watch as a child. He will read her nighttime stories, turn on her music and kiss her goodnight. He will stay home with her tomorrow because she has been feeling under the weather. He will be her protector, her provider, and later in life, her friend. She will never fear the threat of his hand or the harm of his words. I hope that this boy knows that this is what he deserves, a father who through his relationship to his children desires to draw closer to the image of a God of unconditional love and eternal grace.

Perhaps if we choose to integrate anything from our Christian faith into our parenting it should be to seek to deserve a love that is so freely given as that of our children's, just as our faith moves us to do for our Creator. That to save the souls of our children we are called into a partnership with God to help them up on those Eagle's wings and watch God lift them up above those forces which dilute the power and possibility of the person whom they were created to be.

The Un-Bloggable

It was shortly after my first Blog post that I began to feel as if perhaps I shared too much. That maybe blogging had gone too far. I have felt that way after I have posted a status on Facebook or MySpace or Twitter...you know what I mean. That feeling where you think, "maybe I should delete that." I hear people talking all the time about how we as a culture share too much through the internet and that they don't because they don't want everyone to know there business. I get it. I feel the same way. But I keep posting and I am sure I will keep blogging.

I guess I am motivate by a belief that there is something to be said about being open, something invaluable in being transparent. That feeling vulnerable when sharing your experiences and being honest about your struggles is worth it if in that blog or status one person can laugh or one person can feel a little more 'normal'. It takes courage to put it all out there with the knowledge that you will be judged and misunderstood and criticized all for the hope that at least one connection will be made. A spark of understanding that keeps your fire for connectionalism lit.

When I was reflecting on what to Blog about next all I could think about was all that was unbloggable. That if I really felt I was sharing too much now what if I started talking about those experiences that weighed heavy on my heart and the issues that may forever plague my soul. The things you only talk to friends about in the quiet corners of coffee houses. It seems that inspite of our newfound openness most of what we talk about here or anywhere else has little to do with the 'real' issues of our lives, the underlining ugliness, the delicacy of our relationships, the battles of our consciousness.

I keep sharing because I enjoy the opportunities to laugh with you. I appreciate that we can joke about the shared challenges of our lives whether you are a stay at home mom or a retired grandmother. In all the tunnels of our lives God is present. Laughter is possible. Change is inevitable.

For me the two things I love; my job and my family, are subjects in this open space. I am grateful that I can struggle with the little things in the spotlight and the big things in the presence of a loving God and with friends through which the Light of Christ shines upon me. It has been apparent to me for a very long time that life will not get easier... it will just be different. But for me, coping with Life's difficulties means going deeper into the darkenss. The monsters of our lives are much smaller when we hold hands, when we laugh, when we drink coffee. There is always light. There is always hope. May we each seek to find God's presence in the creation of open spaces where the darkness may visit but never take hold.

Grace in Nap Time

If I would say I lack in any way spiritually it would be that I am not grateful for many things. During prayer I typically skip over the gratitude section so I can get right to filing complaints. It is a time management strategy for a spiritually efficient mom. But as unusual as it is I would like to use my first Blog post to thank God for Her Grace.

Specifically, Thank you, God...for naptime. On behalf of myself and every other parent who is currently catching their breath from the insanity that is childrearing, I say "Thank You." The apartment is quiet. I can hear the sound of each key as I type. And, most importantly, there is no one mercilessly asking me over and over again "What ya doing?" followed by the predictable and most sweetly sung, "Whhhhyyyyyy?"

In the quiet, in the respite from the madness, it is clear that I have no idea what to do with myself, except of course, soak up the grace found in naptime...And laugh at the craziness that surrounds it.

Today has been one of those days where laying down in a fetal position and crying or banging your head against a wall seem to be the easiest solutions to a life that often feels impossible. To be a mother. A working mother. A young mother pastor who demographically must represents .01% of all United Methodist Clergy people. (That might be an overestimation). More than once I have found myself thinking, "I am going to lose my mind. Today, is the day. I am going to go crazy."

I am on the phone with a woman in crisis, my spawn is shouting at me in the background, "Mommy, I want phone" over and over again. I am unsuccessfully trying to shush her by intensly staring at her as if I might suddenly receive the power to turn my eyes into lasers. I am simultaenously returning an email which most likely made about as much sense as if I had just handed the computer to the two year old in the room. I am contemplating if the risk outweighs the benefits of my daughter suddenly having occupied herself by climbing on top of my desk to play with staples. That mother feeling of guilt/fear sets in. I get off the phone. I stop typing. I pick her up and set her back on the floor. In an action that I will never know how evil or unintentional, my baby demon walks around the back of me and takes her cute little hand and swiftly wipes all of my papers off the desk and onto the floor. My eyes are filled with tears. I sit down in defeat and look at her, "Okay," I say, "We're going home."

I hate the cliche "God never gives you more than you can handle" because any parent who has ever tried to accomplish something while watching their kid(s) can tell you they have been handed more than they can handle. Attempting to balance those things which life hands you can make you question your sanity, your professional competency, your parental ability. At times the pressure I feel to be the perfect (or even a decent) mother, wife and pastor crushes down so hard it does make me feel like I will lose my mind. But I never do. (Or maybe I have and no one has scheduled the intervention yet).

The truth is that Life often gives me more than I can handle but it is the experience of God's grace that tells me that's okay. If anything has given me proof lately that God is real in my life, it is my own sanity. It is in the emptiness of naptime that I am filled with the reassurance that to be human is adequate, to go to bed with a to-do list is acceptable, to have days in which the thought that gets you through is bedtime is...well, normal.

Grace always seems to be found in the simple things. Those moments which give you a chance to catch your breath and get you back on your feet. So, in honor of the mystical presence of my sanity, I am thanking you, God... for naptime. More importantly, I am thankful that when naptime stops God's grace doesn't because that is when I truly need it anyway, even if in the chaos of constant phone calls and urgent emails, night meetings and morning messes, toddler demands and the dog's scratching at the door(!) I don't have time for it.