Purposeful Easter

I ponder traditions a bit more, now that it's up to Joel and me to make them happen! Easter has so many fun traditions (dyeing Easter eggs, receiving Easter baskets, enjoying church breakfasts, and gathering with family and friends), but I especially cherish the more meaningful moments that point me back to Christ and His resurrection.

{1} Good Friday Service

Growing up, Ron and Sandi (my grandparents in everything but blood relation) always took my siblings and I to a community-wide, midday Good Friday service. This is such a beautiful tradition, because it helps me to slow down and pause on Good Friday. In the midst of busy Easter preparations, it's a time to contemplate the sorrow and suffering my Savior endured on my behalf.

{2} Resurrection Cookies

Find the recipe here, which guides you through making meringue cookies in which each ingredient symbolizes an event in the arrest, crucifixion, death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. 

{3} Resurrection Eggs

I love how easy these eggs make it to focus on Christ's sacrifice for us in the days leading up to Easter Sunday! Each adorable egg has a miniature object inside representing a part of the story. Children love opening the eggs and finding the treasure inside! I saw them at Hobby Lobby this year, but you can also order them online. 

{4} Easter Garden

My Mom makes a lush miniature garden every year, usually incorporating hyacinths and pansies into her recreation of the tomb scene. Easter morning brought the excitement of waking up to find the stone had been rolled away--and the tomb was empty! Learn how to make one here and here. 

{5} Passion Play

Attending a local play is such a great way to refocus on the agony of Holy Week and the joy and hope of Easter Sunday!

{6} A Graveyard Walk

We're planning to begin this tradition this year, made all the more convenient by the fact that we live mere blocks from a 150 year-old cemetery which holds more than 34,000 graves. Cemeteries are sobering places, but did you ever consider how Jesus' disciples and followers spent a good deal of time tombside on the day Christ rose from the dead? Seeing so many markers representing so many souls now absent from their physical bodies is also a reminder of how our Lord conquered death--and the victory Easter brings to every person who trusts in Jesus Christ as his Savior!

What are your Easter traditions? I'd love to hear them!

Past Easter Celebrations:

• Resurrection Sunday in Color {2011}
• Celebrating Because He Lives {2012}
• My Favorite Celebration {2013}

Good Friday Blog Posts:

• The Final Chapter
• Once Dead
• The Worst Timing

Photo Credit

What Would You Do for $13 Million?

 

Yesterday I learned of a baseball player who made a decision that is inciting both controversy and passion, and I am fascinated.  Adam LaRoche is a White Sox player who I (an admittedly sports-illiterate person!) had never heard of before I read this article.  But as I read I was inspired by this man who brought his son to baseball practice every single day.  His 14 year old son would clean cleats, help out, and just watch his dad, and last year the Chicago Tribune dubbed him the team's "26th man." 

But recently, Adam's boss gave him an ultimatum: he had to reduce or eliminate the days he brought his son in with him. (After all, the boss reasoned, where else can you bring your son in to work with you?) Adam LaRoche chose to retire early, losing out on $13 million dollars left in his contract.

$13,000,000. 

The story is still unfolding, but nevertheless I am blown away by what his decision proclaims to the world. After all, this is not an issue of right or wrong.  It would certainly not be morally wrong to simply reduce the number of days his son came with him.  But Adam faced a choice, and he knew his decision would send a clear message of who or what he valued. 

If Adam had allowed the promise of personal gain to keep his son home, he would have been admitting to his son what really mattered to him and what really controlled him.  He would have been saying that he prioritized his son when nothing better was on the horizon, but when money was on the line his son took second place.   The reason we are even talking about this situation is because Adam didn't do that: he "put his money where his mouth is" in the most literal turn of that phrase.

And even $13,000,000 could not change his mind.

How strong am I--how strong are you--on the beliefs that are a core part of who God made us to be and that equip us to fulfill the mission He has given us?  Is there any rationalization by which we could be convinced to change those values for personal gain?  Let me put it this way: what is your price?

Can curious sideways glances keep you from praying before a meal?
How much money would it take before you agreed to skip church to take a job?
Does your family take backseat when better offers come along?

Adam LaRoche walked away from $13,000,000, and in doing so he made a powerful statement his son will never forget.  His son will never wonder if money is more important to his dad than he is.  His son will never question whether or not his dad has a price at which his priorities will implode.  His son will never doubt that his dad means what he says.

But I am convicted because I wonder if I would have been bought out for a lot less.  And as painful as it is to think about, every time we are bought out, we negate to the world who watches the sincerity of everything we have done before. 

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If my life values are not important enough to withstand the pull of personal gain, then how much did I ever truly value them?

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A plaque in my room reads in bold, all capital letters: "If you stand for nothing you will fall for anything."

So ask yourself honestly what you stand for: Would 13 million dollars be enough to buy you out?

Sources: http://www.foxsports.com/mlb/story/adam-laroche-chicago-white-sox-retire-ken-williams-son-clubhouse-drake-family-031616
http://abcnews.go.com/Sports/adam-laroche-white-sox-manager-told-bring-son/story?id=37758766
“A Great Moment at the End of a Great Season,” ©2011 clappstar, used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/.

Backwards Contentment

If youth and old age could be combined into one non-contradictory person (think: Energizer Bunny with a brain, or Labrador puppy without a penchant for chewing and jumping), we would have it made. I've often wondered why it is we can't have both. Why do I have to make all the amateur mistakes now, when I've got the energy to go 70 miles per hour?

Yet somehow, with increasing smarts and wisdom (because, although I am most definitely not on the honor roll for Life Lessons Mastered 101, at least I have progressed from my 15 year-old self) comes increasing wistfulness. I first noticed this, not in myself--because who notices flaws in himself first?--but in the scores of sweet middle-aged women who ooh and aah over my baby. Every single one of them says some variation of, "Enjoy this time! It goes by so fast! It seems like mine were that age just yesterday, and now they're 27 and 31!"

To all the middle-aged mothers out there, I am trying, I promise! You tell me the days go by incredibly fast, so I am doing my very best to savor every nighttime feeding, every sleepy morning smile, and every splish-splash in the bath. But I find in myself the very real tendency to be "backwards content." I don't think this is just a mom problem, because it's not only a struggle for me with my nearly seven month old who is sitting up, waving, and eating avocado (how? how did we get here so fast?), but also in many other areas of life. High school seemed interminable until I was finished and could look back with satisfaction. Getting married would neeeeveeeerrrrrr happen until it did, and now I wonder how my single years went by so fast. My body was never quite perfect; then I had a baby and I became perfectly content with my body...the way it used to be. Somehow, being content is always easier in retrospect.

Maybe there is no cure for this. Maybe every woman everywhere will look in the mirror and criticize her appearance at the age of 20 and then long for that appearance at the age of 40. Maybe every woman everywhere will wish for a good night's sleep, or a nicer house, or a new stage of life, but when confronted with that very wished-for thing, will look back with contentment upon the interrupted nights of sleep (representing precious wee ones crying in the night), the small house (representing close proximity with loved ones), or the old stage of life (representing productivity and energy). 

And then I met a woman at Wegmans (no, you don't have them on the West Coast, and yes, they're awesome) who was adoring Liam; he, in turn, was giving her priceless smiles and giggles. She repeated the exact same mantra in the exact same way. Except she kept going. After the "just yesterday" bit, she said, "My son is 14 now, but 14 is such a fun age too. I'm so proud of him, you know? It's just cool to see your children growing and learning and becoming more independent. You'll love that stage too." I admired this woman for her ability to love the past and embrace the present--a delicate balance.

I don't think the situation is hopeless. I think it is a beautiful thing to look back upon life with contentment. Hindsight is 20/20 after all. But I think it is an even more beautiful thing to embrace the here and now with vigor and delight. Maybe that's what all these older, wiser women have been trying to tell me all along.

The Leap Day Phenomenon

Leap Day fascinates me.  Living a day that only exists once every four years is curiously like living in a time traveling time warp. After all, how else could you add a day to my month--a whole 24 hours that appears out of thin air! Certainly not through a mere paper-shuffling, calendar-quibbling, name-game formality. Time warp is a much more delightful and intriguing theory behind Leap Day.

And so I am convinced that we need to celebrate Leap Day to its full potential. Honestly, who doesn't need an extra day in their lives? I for one am imagining all I could accomplish on a "bonus" day: catch up on every email I've been procrastinating on, plan the next six months of teaching, dig myself out of my (let's just be real, shall we?) disastrously messy room, file my taxes, and finish that big project I've been working on. 

But while I'm being real I should probably also admit that I'm going to need a whole lot more than one Leap Day to get it all done.  So, all fantastic time warps aside, I've been pondering this problem of "getting it all done" lately and have realized something.

If I am always feeling that I need an extra minute or hour or day, then perhaps what I really need is less packed into that minute or hour or day.  
Perhaps the real problem lies not in the constraints of time but in my lack of constraint.  Perhaps the root of my stress is that I am a chronic over-committer, finding it stupendously difficult to say no to things without feeling guilty. 
And perhaps...just perhaps...I am not alone in this.

We women know how to choose the best-tasting watermelon. We can decide in seconds if an outfit is adorable or homely. Yet we somehow lose our decision-making skills when it comes to regulating what we do or don't commit to. The worst part about this is that if you take on too many good things, you are overbooked, unavailable, and worn out when the best things come along.

So here are just a few questions that I've resolved to ask myself when considering adding something additional to my plate:

• Is this going to advance God's kingdom or myself? 
• Am I tempted to refuse this commitment simply because it would take me outside my comfort zone? 
• Where is my mission field right now? Everyone has a mission field for each season of your life. So if you don't know what yours is, discovering God's mission field for you should be your first step. Knowing this will give you much clearer vision for what you should take on and what you should turn down. 
• Is saying no painful because I am more worried about people not liking me if I don't please them than I am concerned about what God wants me to be doing right now?

These questions are only the beginning--I would love to hear what questions you ask when facing decisions!

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“.TimeMachine.,” © 2008 Sachin Sandhu, used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/.

The Birth of Liam

Lessons on self, life, and God are a plodding process, but there are rare moments where God seems to turbocharge the lesson and condense it into a whirlwind that leaves me dizzy.

After 42 weeks of leisurely lessons--lessons in patience, body image, and discomfort--labor began, and with it, the whirlwind.

12 hours later, I was admitted to the hospital; 17 hours after labor began, Pitocin was started to move things along; 18 hours in, my midwife broke my water, and not long after that, hard labor began. I remember feeling as though this was something I couldn't do. "My strength is made perfect in weakness." I remember feeling intense gratitude for the support of my midwife, my mom, and Joel. "Two are better than one." I remember feeling as though I was in an interminable place of pain. "Why is my pain perpetual?" I remember feeling challenged emotionally, spiritually, and physically. "Our sufficiency is from God." I remember the moment when I wasn't progressing--only halfway dilated after 26 hours of labor!--and I wasn't at all sure that giving birth was something I could do. "You can do this," a nurse whom I had never seen before that day told me. She looked me straight in the eyes as she commanded me to relax.

4 hours later, Liam was born.

It didn't happen in that one second of his arrival at 1:18 AM on August 18, but in the 30 hours leading up to his arrival; and in the panicky moments after his birth when he was examined for meconium aspiration and, struggling to breathe, whisked away to the NICU after only a few moments on my chest; and in the 24 hours he stayed in the NICU (he is completely healthy now with no ill effects, praise the Lord!); and in the six months since then wherein Joel and I have learned what it means to have a son. Somewhere in the whirlwind of all that, I feel as though I have learned a lifetime of lessons.

September 2015

Never were tears and smiles so often blended together. I cried in pain as I gave birth. I cried when my brand new baby, whom I had yet to see, was across the room and surrounded by neonatologists with grave-looking faces. I cried when I held my baby for the first time and had only a precious minute to meet him and then say goodbye to him. I cried when I woke up without him, and I cried when he was discharged from the NICU. I cried when Liam smiled at me. I cried in weariness from a night and day of little sleep. I cried to say goodbye to my mom after four weeks together. Held in my husband's arms, I cried over my body I didn't seem to recognize anymore and which seemed to look flabby and unattractive in any outfit I tried on (my opinion--but, thankfully, not his!).

October 2015

I beamed when I found out that we had a son, and I beamed as I breastfed Liam for the first time in the NICU. I beamed as I watched Joel hold him close for the first time. I beamed as we posed for our first family picture together. I beamed when the nurses gushed over him (and the waitress, and every four year-old girl, and the cashier at Goodwill...). I beamed through those aforementioned tears when Liam first smiled at me. I beamed as friends and family met him for the first time. I beamed as I heard Joel talk about our son. I beamed at how adorable he was the first time I dressed him (and the 139th time).

February 2016

I have learned what love is in a way I never knew before. Perhaps I understand just a little bit better the love my parents have for me. Maybe, just maybe, I grasp God's love for Jesus in a way I didn't before. And God's gift of His only Son for the sake of the salvation of the world becomes an even greater sacrifice than I previously fathomed it to be.

P.S. This was written three weeks after Liam was born. It's hard to believe that he turned six months old yesterday!