Patience

I am not, by nature, a patient person.  I like things done my way and in my time.  Mothering continues to challenge me to be more patient … not just with my children, but also with myself.  (I am most impatient with myself).

This time of year tries the little patience I do have.  Long lines snake around the post office and stores. Traffic crawls along, always on my route.  My task lists grow longer and longer, and it seems that my days grow shorter and shorter (and not just in terms of daylight!).

At the same time, my faith calls me to practice the virtue of patience.  Watch!  Wait and see!  Prepare yourself.  Prepare the way of the Lord.

The cold weather and deepening darkness of December invite me to slow down, to be more still, to curl up in a blanket with a cup of tea.  I am learning that the best way for me to practice patience is by practicing stillness.  Stillness is intentional.  It has a purpose.  It is not zoning out from exhaustion, but stopping activity and choosing to be fully present in the moment.

While our culture stresses activity this time of year, Advent invites us to celebrate stillness.  It invites us to enter into prayer by becoming more intentional in our prayer time, by pouring a cup of tea and watching the stars twinkle in the sky and the lights twinkle on our neighbors’ porches.  It invites us to slow our breathing to a gentle cadence:  ”come, Lord Jesus, come.”

Come.

Lord Jesus.

Come.

Waiting

As I sit here at my computer writing this, my husband sits on a plane on the tarmac.  He was supposed to have taken off nearly 4 hours ago, for a flight of about an hour, to Chicago, which is only a 5 hour drive from here.  When you add in the two hours before scheduled departure time that he left our house, he could have easily driven there in the time he’s spent at the airport in St. Louis today.

He has called, emailed, and texted me several times.  He is not enjoying the experience of waiting for his flight to take off.  He is focused on all that he needs to do when he arrives in Chicago.  Each minute that ticks by is one less he has to accomplish his tasks there.  Frustration is mounting, understandably so.

My heart goes out to him, stuck there on the plane, unable to control even his physical location right now.  I’ve been there.  It’s not a pleasant place to be.

And yet, on many different levels, I think we’re all there, whether we realize it or not.  Advent brings to mind more clearly the nature of our “waiting,” but the reality is that every one of us is always waiting for something.  We’re waiting for the weekend.  Waiting for the next paycheck.  Waiting for our vacation, or the baby to be born, or the pain meds to take effect.  We’re waiting in doctor’s offices, at traffic lights, in line at the grocery store.

And, of course, we’re waiting for Jesus to come.  We’re waiting, on one level, for the anniversary of His birth, when we celebrate the Incarnation, and on a much deeper level, for Him to come today, in each of us.  We’re waiting for Jesus to come into our hearts, to bring us closer to the Father, to show us the Way, the Truth, and the Light.

Waiting can be frustrating, annoying, can get my heart rate going and my blood boiling.  I can focus on all the things I am not doing while I am waiting on a plane or in line.  I can get myself caught up in my ego, my to-do lists, my selfish desires.

Or, I can wait in expectation.  I can wait joyfully.  I can wait expectantly.  I can wait with the hope that knows how the story ends… not with the birth of a child in a cave but with the rising on the third day after a brutal death on the cross.  Waiting joyfully and expectantly is not easy; it takes some effort on my part.  I need to set aside my selfish desires and focus on the Christ.  I need to let go – again and again – of the false notion that I am in control, that this life actually belongs to me.  I need to allow myself to lean back and rest in the gentle arms of my Savior.

As we begin our journey this Advent, blessed waiting to each of you….

 

On Fatherhood and Courage

You who read these pages regularly know that I don’t use this space to hock other people’s stuff.  Nope, for the most part, if you’re reading this, you’re stuck with the ramblings in my own little head and the words left by the clicking of my own little fingers.

But, sometimes, rules need to be broken.  This is one of those times.

Last weekend, my husband and I did what we never do.  We went to see a movie on its opening weekend.  We braved a completely sold-out theater, cramming ourselves way too closely to a bunch of strangers… and we loved every minute of it.

The film that forced us out of our movie-going comfort zone: Courageous.  This is the latest offering from Sherwood Pictures, the movie ministry arm of Sherwood Baptist church in Georgia, which was put on the map, so to speak, with the surprising success of Fireproof several years ago.  Fireproof told the story of a marriage going bad, from the perspective of a firefighter.  Firemen are taught to never leave their partner behind in a fire; you fight through it together.  Along the way, the main characters learned the same principle applies in marriage: you fight through it together.

Courageous introduces us to four men serving in a Sheriff’s department in southern Georgia.  All are struggling to balance the demands of their work life with their family responsibilities.  It was a movie that thrilled and engaged us, right from the first scenes.  This was definitely a movie written for men, filled with exciting action sequences and nail-biting drama.  It included scenes so funny, the laughter in the theater completely blocked out the dialogue on the screen.  At the same time, the movie shows, with no hesitancy, the critical role fathers play, not simply in our families, but in our society at large.

So often, I am disappointed by the portrayal of parents, especially fathers, in our modern culture.  Television fathers are often shown to be inept and wimpy, and above all, not worthy of respect.  This movie challenges that stereotype head-on.  These men are strong and deserving of respect, serving and protecting their county, even at risk of their own lives.  They rely upon one another and their deepening friendship to guide them through some of the more difficult challenges life can offer.  Through it all, they learn that their job as “father” is significantly more important than their career as “sheriff.”

While I’ve long been a fan of the offerings from Sherwood Pictures, it’s always been with an understanding that these are “amateur” films.  This picture had an entire production budget of only $1 million.  Fireproof was completed in half that.  This truly is a ministry from the Sherwood Church, with most of the actors, most of the crew, and nearly all of the support (ie, food services, babysitting) coming from volunteers in the community.  Along with a cast and crew of volunteers, you are going to see some “less than stellar” acting and writing, from time to time.  Both Facing the Giants (Sherwood’s first major picture) and Fireproof had some of those issues.  Courageous does not.  It is a powerful film, from the first, heart-racing scene through the final “call to action.”  The acting has matured nicely in the past several years.  The script, filled with plot twists and multiple storylines, moved smoothly and kept a solid pace.  The cinematography was worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster.  In this film, Sherwood Pictures has sloughed off the “amateur” ranking; we are definitely looking at a professional offering.

Courageous is not afraid to speak clearly and plainly as to the ills caused by fathers who abandon their children, either wholly or in part.  It calls out every parent, mother and father, to take seriously our responsibility of raising tomorrow’s generation.  It challenges us to center our focus on our families, and to ensure that we are raising children who respect authority, who have a solid faith, and who know both unconditional love and safe boundaries.  This is not a movie for the faint-hearted parent.  Whether you think you are a “pretty decent” parent, or you know you could do a little better, this movie will test you in the depths of your heart.  You will leave the theater challenged – and inspired – to be a better parent for your children.

I hope you will take the chance to see this movie while it is in the theaters.  While it’s a worthy dvd rental/purchase (and will be joining our home library at some point in the future), there is real value to supporting movies with positive messages while they are playing in the theater.  Courageous had a strong showing last weekend, with the highest per-theater earnings for all openings that week.  Box office numbers matter to the people who decide what types of movies get made.

For that reason, I am willing to stand in line and cram into a theater to send a message to Hollywood: enough with the senseless violence, the pitiful portrayals of parenting, and the utter disrespect for marriage and family.  I will pay to see a movie which lifts me up, challenges me to do better, and entertains me at the same time.  I will pay to see a movie which reflects my values, and the values I want to pass along to my children.  Make more movies like this, and I will pay to go see them.

Will you?

How Much?

Recently, I had a conversation with a cardiologist.  After sharing some pleasantries, I asked him how much exercise we really needed on a regular basis.  Was 20-30 minutes, a few days per week enough? He paused and considered his answer carefully.  ”If you are leading a sedentary lifestyle, then any exercise, even the smallest amount, will help.  But, if you really want to take care of your heart, you need 45-60 minutes of vigorous exercise, every single day.”

Every day? An hour every day?  I questioned him further.  That seemed like a huge commitment.  I don’t have that kind of time in my day.

He shrugged his shoulders.  ”It’s a matter of your priorities.  What you put into caring for your body is what you’ll get out of it.”

I think about that, not as a measure of how much more I need to exercise (though, obviously, I do), but because I think his advice applies to my prayer life as well.

As Catholics, we center our week around the Sunday liturgy.  And, if that is all the prayer in my life, it is better than nothing.  But, if I am honest, only attending mass on Sunday is like taking a 20 minute walk three times per week.  Sure, I am getting some cardiovascular benefit from the short walks.  But, I am not going to prevent serious illness, or even regular weight gain, that way.

Likewise with my prayer life.  It’s a matter of my priorities and my willingness to commit.  Now, I am not saying that I need 45-60 minutes of prayer every day, but I do need some prayer every day.  Some days, I may need 60 minutes.  Some days, I may need more.  Many days, I know I won’t come near to that amount of time.  But, on those days when I get little to no concentrated prayer (and by concentrated prayer, I mean more than murmured thanks before meals or rote bedtime prayers with the kids), I notice a difference.  String together a few days (or longer) without regular, concentrated prayer time, and part of me starts to atrophy.

When I don’t get to run on a regular basis, whether because of schedules or illness, those first few days back on the trail are always a little tough.  I am a little more sluggish.  I find it a little harder to get motivated.  And, so goes my prayer life.  When I’m out of my daily routine, I find it hard to make the time for God, to get my butt off the couch, metaphorically speaking, and open my heart to His Presence and guidance.

Experience tells me that my cardiologist friend is correct.  It’s all a matter of priorities.  How I choose to care for myself: physically, mentally, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually does affect who I am and who I will grow to be.

What I put into my prayer life is what I will get out of it.

Our Model for Surrender

I struggle a lot with surrendering myself to God.  If I am being honest, most of my prayer time is spent in prayer which I control.  I pray the Morning Office.  I pray at mass.  I pray before meals, and with my family, and at bedtime.  I am drawn to quiet prayer, to prayer of surrender and peace, but I rarely make the time to sit down and practice that type of prayer.  Why?  Because, that type of prayer, the prayer where I do my best to shut up and let God have a turn, is hard.  It requires me to let go of my desire to control.  It requires me to silence my ego.  It requires me to surrender myself to God.

And surrender makes me uncomfortable, even when I know that, in the end, it fills me with Him like no other prayer can.

I think of surrender especially when I pray with the passion narratives in the Gospels.  I see Jesus in prayer in the garden of Gethsemane.  I see the suffering He experienced that night: the fear, the despair, and the loneliness.  I see, in those final moments before He was arrested, the strength and courage He was given, as He whispered, “thy will be done.”

In the new translation of the mass coming in Advent, the priest will pray different words when consecrating the wine into the Precious Blood.  Rather than saying Jesus’ blood was “shed,” he will say Jesus’ blood was “poured out” for us.  The difference is small, as many of the changes are, but the intent of the verb is different.  “Shed” is a passive verb.  It implies something that was done to Jesus.  “Poured out” is active.  It expresses much more clearly that the action was done by Christ, that every single part of His passion, His crucifixion, and His death were done because He allowed them to be done.

I am reminded of Christ’s role in His passion, His willingness, His acceptance, His complicity.  Jesus surrenders.  He does not defend Himself.  He does not fight back.  He does not answer His accusers or call down curses against them.  Again and again, He submits Himself to pain, ridicule, torture, and death, fully choosing this path.

Now, thankfully, I have not been called to submit to torture and death.  But, I am called to submit my will to God’s and to die to self.  I am called to see myself as a creature, meant for a divine purpose, not in control, but willing to do that for which I have been made.

The only way I can begin to answer this call is by surrendering my need for control, letting go of my agenda, and sitting quietly – and often – with our Lord.

Learning to Lead

Lately, I’ve done some reading and praying on the topic of leadership, particularly personal leadership.  In other words, how do I conduct myself in the world?  Am I in control of my emotions, or are my emotions in control of me?  Am I compassionate and considerate, even (especially?) when I am facing a difficult personality?

This week, I’ve had three opportunities to put these concepts to work.  I’ve found myself in several different “leadership” roles this week.  Two of these situations, I had prepared for with prayer.  One situation cropped up unexpectedly.  In all of them, I pushed myself outside my comfort zone, stretching my patience, my compassion, and my emotional control all in the efforts to be a “good” personal leader.

I sit here now, at the end of the week, still deeply mired in the leadership issues which began my week, clinging tightly to the Hand of my God, trusting that His Spirit is guiding me on this path.  The “surprise” opportunity has been resolved, much to my relief and satisfaction.  The third leadership role turned out to be a delight… the bright, encouraging spot in my stressful and challenging week.

Last night, I remarked to a friend that I have been proud of the work I’ve done this week.  Despite my life-long need to “control,” I have never considered myself to be a “good” leader: one who leads well by example, and with an openness and sharing that welcomes others into the project.  In the past, I’ve preferred to “lead” in my own way, assuming that my way was the best way.  I am learning, though, that true leadership allows for a difference of opinion.  It allows for multiple people to step in and participate.  True leadership encourages everyone involved to reach their greatest potential.

And, at least for me, at least this week, true leadership means standing firm.  It means speaking truth when truth needs to be spoken.  It means not allowing the loudest voice in the room to be the only voice.

Some years ago, my spiritual director told me that God was “all love and all truth.”  He went on to explain that love without truth is weak; truth without love is harsh.  I’ve meditated on that thought many times in the intervening years.  It’s become the ultimate goal I hold out for myself.  When I sit back at the end of each day, reviewing all that has happened, I ask myself, “Was I loving? Was I truthful?”

I look to the ultimate role model in leadership: Jesus.  As He explained to James and John, when they asked for positions of honor on His left and right, “whoever wishes to be great among you shall be your servant; whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave.  Just so, the Son of Man did not come to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”  (Mt. 20:26-28)

Good personal leadership means seeing myself, first and foremost, as a servant.  As I continue to grow and develop in these different leadership roles, I need to pause and prayerfully consider:  Am I using each opportunity to serve others, or am I more concerned with my own ego? Do I love goodness and truth above myself?

Am I leading in a manner I will be proud of, when I stand before the Lord?

Sharing Prayer

I’ve been thinking a lot about the times when I get to pray with others, the types of prayer we pray together, and the strength and power that is there in shared prayer.  I’m back on the couch in the Deacon’s office at 6:12 every day for Morning Prayer.  We start our school day with prayer, each day led by one of the four of us.  Our family prays together at meals and before bed.  I try my best to make it to our bimonthly Centering Prayer meetings.  Our team prays before our soccer games.  And, more often than not, I attend meetings that begin and end with prayer.

My life is filled with opportunities to pray with others, outside of the liturgy.

And yet, I wonder, how often am I really present in our shared prayer?  How often am I going through the motions? Am I paying attention or is my mind wandering in another direction?  Do I really listen to the words being prayed, opening my heart and soul to direction from Above?

Yesterday was one of those really crazy days.  We had a car in the shop, so the day began with waking three sleepy children an hour early to take my husband to work, so that we would have a car all day.  Immediately after we finished our schoolwork, we were off and running.  One meeting led into another, followed by pickup from dance class and a stop at the grocery on our way to pick up my husband and our (fixed!) car from the shop.  A quick dinner was followed by yet another (lengthy) meeting.  I had prayed on my own several times throughout the day, and my meetings started with prayer.  But, the great surprise came at the end of this long, busy day.

When my final meeting ended, two of us held back for a ten-minute strategy session.  As we concluded our session, he asked if I would be open to praying together.  We had worked together on multiple projects over the past year, but had never prayed together.  I was touched that he asked me to pray with him, and eagerly agreed.  I bowed my head and waited for him to begin.  He prayed praise for our glorious God, thanking Him for the blessings in our life and the passion we share for our joint project.  He asked for God’s blessing and guidance as we move forward on this project.  After praying “amen” together, we shared a gentle hug, and then parted ways.

I was amazed at the difference prayer made in our interactions.  This man and I share the same Christian faith, but practice it in a different way and in different churches.  We are part of an ecumenical organization, but there was always a hesitancy toward sharing prayer because of the difference in our faith tenets.  All of the awkwardness and hesitancy dissipated last night, in the space of our shared prayer to our shared God.

I am learning that “whenever 2 or more gather in His name, He is in our midst.”  It is when we share prayer with others that we more fully know ourselves as the Body of Christ in the world today.