so much shouting, so much laughter

[heart] felt. {from me to you}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 03:48:00 +0000

atheists & charlatans &

communists & lesbians
& even ol' Pat Robertson
Oh God, He loves us all
<3

against the night

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 17:35:00 +0000

4:30 found us on a deck chair, blanket-wrapped against the cold morning. james' labored breathing quieted, slowing to a regular rhythm. the light in the coop was on, but the road was dark and dawn a long way off.

he relaxed in my arms, knees up against my chest, like when he was tiny. one plump cheek nestled into my shoulder, still damp for the force of the coughing.

sometimes, nothing calms like quiet winter.

their room was a sauna. dueling humidifiers vaporized rainforest thick, scenting the air with tea tree oil. it didn't much help, one cough echoing the other. hers, heavy with cold and recovering from her own virus. his loud like a wounded pup.

sickness strikes at the most inopportune times. birthdays, holidays. tonight, we'd cancelled a sitter, missed a rare evening out, and now jim was gone, traveling.

with dylan asleep upstairs, it was just me and boy-babe. we held on and braced ourselves together against the night.

an ongoing record of God's goodness, #339-350

quiet moments with my rarely-still boy

a girl on the mend

recruiting faithful workers for a summer of plenty

children who still want to be close to their mama (even if i want to be alone)

a winter mild, promising tree-tapping before long

a mending Bride and a holy calling

generous love and laughter

grace for the sick days: extra stories

and movies,

cuddles,

popsicles, and

pjs all day

notes to the new mom {practices of parenting}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Mon, 06 Feb 2012 16:20:00 +0000

1. no child can be spoiled with love.
we let dishes pile. every yes is a no to something else, and we want to say yes to now and to love and each other. they are only little so long, and there aren't endless hours to snuggle baby #2, so we savor moments. "doing nothing" together may just be everything after all.

{but friend? not all moments savor-worthy: poo-splosions, PPD, colic, sickness. mothering is beautiful and wonderful, but it is hard, and if you're looking for permission not to carpe diem every second, you got it, sister.}

2. baby carriers are magical.
at the grocery store, communion rail, or around the house, nothing beats securing baby to your chest in a cozy sling or wrap. babywearing encourages infant sleep, discourages crying, and promotes attachment, making it a wonderful practice to learn in those harried first weeks and well beyond.

3. we are the experts for our babes.
not our mothers, neighbors, strangers in the grocery store, well-meaning church ladies, famous authors, or even the pediatrician. we've learned to trust our instincts and take whatever anyone says with a grain of salt...or a whole salt shaker.

4. we do what works for us, not whatever "they" say.
dylan hated sleeping in her crib. we thought she *should,* so we battled. all three of us barely slept longer that two and a half hours at at time for eighteen exhausting months.

looking back, i wish we had brought her into bed with us and taken sleep where we could get it instead of trying to force what wasn't working. dylan would have slept on her own eventually; she didn't have to do it from day one.

5. relax.
milestones and schedules are not worth stressing over. every kid is different.

6. breastfeeding is natural (and wonderful and worth it), but it is not easy.
read about it . go to la leche league meetings. take a breastfeeding class. meet with a lactation consultant. ask for help. having good support can make all the difference.

but, also? not every mother can. not every mother wants to. we work. we adopt. we face health problems. we all give our babies our best and nourish and comfort them just like they need--with breast, pump, or formula. at ease, mamas!

7. every parent needs time away.
we [try to] schedule regular time for solitude and adult community and refuse to feel guilty about it. time away nurtures us as people and makes us better equipped to love and serve each other.

8. we all end up doing something as a parent that we swore we'd never do.
it's true. so we try to put away judging eyes and never say never.

9. comparison is soul-crushing.
so what if her kid walked first or sleeps through the night? so what if she sews halloween costumes, mills her own flour, or weighs less pregnant than i do now?

we're different: gifted in some ways and lacking in others. we don't have the whole story on anyone else, and comparison only makes us feel competitive and self-conscious. the mommy wars are a war against women that we'll all lose. so we lay down arms. we become conscientious objectors.

10. there are no perfect parents.
even the ones that look like they have it all together don't. we give ourselves--and one another--a break, permission to ask for help, and release from the fear of messing it up. we apologize, ask forgiveness, and keep going. perfection is an illusion, but we will find our sea legs and mercies new every morning.

what have you learned about motherhood? what advice would you pass along?

{i wrote this in the throes of parenting baby #2 when #1 was two and a half. originally published 5/6/10. shared with sarah's parenting carnival.}

this is my Body, broken {only say the Word}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Thu, 02 Feb 2012 13:10:00 +0000

...

This is my Body, broken:

my radiant Church

lies pierced and bleeding,

wounded by friendly-fire burn.

This sickness shall not end in death

The dead are raised, the

blind will see and

you, love, shall be healed.
...

{read the rest of the poem at preston yancey's.}

joining a spectrum of God-seekers and word-spinners, i am pleased to share poetry as part of the series, At The Lord's Table.

{Image courtesy of the incomparable Tahni Candelaria-Holm of joyeuse photography. Used with permission.
Linked with emily's imperfect prose.}

the impossible will take a little while

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 15:58:00 +0000

i heard it whisper, quiet recollection
stirring just beneath the surface.
a heart-memory from a moment
long faded and forgotten.

there is beauty in the winter-dark.
even now, day arches her back toward the sun,
stretching longer and further
into tomorrow.

within trees as cold and bare as death,
sap soon will flow. elixir of life,
exquisite resurrection.

The difficult I'll do right now

The impossible will take a little while

-Billie Holiday

my heart i hear beating

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 17:00:00 +0000

she's just like her daddy, wide-eyed for adventure, lover of snow, cold, and outside. enthusiastic dreamers, they plan big and live loud. his childlike wonder dances in her every leap.

but when she comes in from the cold, clapping for honey-kissed cocoa? she climbs under my arm and pulls blankets high; we read poetry and wild tales of princess and prairie.

in those tender moments, it's my heart i hear beating inside one tutu-clad wondrous girl.

footprints fade

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 04:33:00 +0000

boots crunch ice and light is fading, but it sparkles all the same across the snow.

trails tell tales of chickens, deer, and bunnies here and gone. we remain as afternoon disappears over the horizon.

i ask for a photograph, but he'll have none of that, cheeks damp from an outburst even kettlecorn couldn't quell. he's a boy-storm of intensity, and he's busy stomping paths.

powerful. deliberate. definitive. every footprint tells a story.

I WAS HERE.

i am.

see me. look what wonders i have wrought!

some footprints fade, but you, sweet boy, are written on my heart.

be Right or be Love

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 05:47:00 +0000

we're having two different conversations, we are.
over one another and at top volume

families, churches. in politics, parenting,
theology and everything else

we're speaking in tongues most of the time.
{shouldn't we know better? where's
the interpreter to encourage
the Body in worship?}

talking at is never quite the same as talking with.
no wonder we misunderstand.

our caricatures are vivid:
a trace of truth
fleshed out in lies, and
have we even noticed?

we launch insults and laugh
at safe distance. we
cast stones and wonder
why glass houses shatter and
everything else stays the same.

should this day be different?
i'll have to decide:
do I want to be Right, or do I want to be Love?

shared with the saturday evening blog post and five minute friday. prompt: vivid.

we're lovers and biters, we are

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 05:40:00 +0000

We have a biter.

My two year old, he of sky blues eyes, open-mouthed kisses and bright grins, is a biter. He bites his sister hard and my heart breaks open wide.

We don't bite. We don't hurt. We love each other.
We are gentle. We are kind. We love each other.
We listen with our ears. We help with our hands.

We. Love. Each. Other.

He's usually remorseful. Tender kisses, loving pats and baby-signed "I'm sorry"s aren't even a show. He means them, and her quick forgiveness makes my heart catch.

But he means the biting, too. Enough to draw tears and red welts.

*****

She's such a verbal processor. They scuffle over toys or paper or God-knows-what, and she prevails because she has words.

She smells weakness. If only he could argue his position satisfactorily...

When words are law, she'll always win.

(i'll always win)
(but words aren't law)

His bite is worse than his bark.
(he just wants to be heard)

We are gentle. We are kind.
We listen with our ears.

We Love Each Other.

MLK & the Prophetic Church {or: reading Playboy for the articles}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 05:14:00 +0000

On twitter, someone linked to this substantial 1965 Playboy interview of Dr. King by Alex Haley. It is a fascinating portrait as well as the lengthiest interview the civil rights hero ever granted. I recommend reading it in its entirety, but this portion about the church particularly caught my eye:

"The church once changed society. It was then a thermostat of society. But today I feel that too much of the church is merely a thermometer, which measures rather than molds popular opinion.

[...]

I will remain true to the church as long as I live. But the laxity of the white church collectively has caused me to weep tears of love. There cannot be deep disappointment without deep love.

Time and again in my travels, as I have seen the outward beauty of white churches, I have had to ask myself, “What kind of people worship there? Who is their God? Is their God the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and is their Savior the Savior who hung on the cross at Golgotha? Where were their voices when a black race took upon itself the cross of protest against man’s injustice to man? Where were their voices when defiance and hatred were called for by white men who sat in these very churches?”

[...]

My personal disillusionment with the church began when I was thrust into the leadership of the bus protest in Montgomery. I was confident that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would prove strong allies in our just cause. But some became open adversaries, some cautiously shrank from the issue, and others hid behind silence. My optimism about help from the white church was shattered; and on too many occasions since, my hopes for the white church have been dashed.

There are many signs that the judgment of God is upon the church as never before. Unless the early sacrificial spirit is recaptured, I am very much afraid that today’s Christian church will lose its authenticity, forfeit the loyalty of millions, and we will see the Christian church dismissed as a social club with no meaning or effectiveness for our time, as a form without substance, as salt without savor. The real tragedy, though, is not Martin Luther King’s disillusionment with the church—for I am sustained by its spiritual blessings as a minister of the gospel with a lifelong commitment: The tragedy is that in my travels, I meet young people of all races whose disenchantment with the church has soured into outright disgust."

MLK and Divine Dissatisfaction

wounded justice {i still believe}

love to light a night devoid of stars

{image source}

homosexuality is(n't) a sin | un-truth, hurt & the limits of language

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 05:42:00 +0000

"Homosexuality is sin."

How many times have we heard that? One hundred times? One thousand?

The trouble starts when we begin reading "homosexuality" into the biblical text, because that idea as we understand it just isn't there. Although it condemns various homosexual behaviors, scripture is silent about what modern readers understand as sexual orientation or same-sex attraction.

Christians say "Homosexuality is a sin" and mean "Same-sex sexual activity is a sin"--but those statements have entirely different meanings and ramifications, don't they?

Homosexuality is not a a sin. At most, homosexuality is a temptation--and temptation is not sin.

Jesus was tempted. Jesus didn't sin. Being tempted by sin is not the same as sinning.

[I won't unpack, refute or defend the "same-sex sexual activity is a sin" statement today. Perhaps that's a cop-out, but I'm not a scholar, and honestly, I have more questions than answers. I do know that bible-believing Christians disagree about its implications regarding homosexuality, and interpreting scripture in its original context is rarely as simple as we sometimes pretend.]

My hope is that whether we believe that God calls gay people to lives of celibacy or that they honor God within committed relationships, we can agree to change our problematic and destructive language.

When Christians insist that homosexuality is a sin, we're condemning people instead of behavior, and that is not the place of a people called to love our neighbors as ourselves. It also unnecessarily conflates both sin and sexuality with identity.

How many stories have you heard--or lived--where gay Christians are kicked out of communities simply for being people who are wresting, questioning, and hurting--not even for "choosing the gay lifestyle," whatever that means?

How do we expect gay Christians to remain faithful? If we're honest, do we offer those who are wrestling with same-sex attraction anything more than:

"Homosexuality is a sin,"
"Don't be gay," and
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out" ?

I have to believe that the Jesus who was known as friend to drunkards, tax collectors and sinners would respond wholly different than his Church does when it comes to loving our gay brothers and sisters.

When Christians insist that homosexuality is a sin:

...we draw lines, make assumptions, and misunderstand.
...we exclude gay Christians or seekers from feeling welcome in our churches.
...we fail to affirm the image of God in our gay brothers and sisters.
...we make sexuality and sin primary markers of a person's identity.
...we legitimize anti-gay bullying.
...we fail to wrestle through, articulate and live out together a sexual ethic that honors God and includes the young, old, gay, straight, married, single, divorced, widowed, celibate, everyone.

We pretend that:

...being gay is a choice to get us out of wrestling with harder questions about scripture, God, community, sexuality, politics, etc.
...being a Christian means being straight.
...anyone who wants it enough can just "pray the gay away."
...the answers are easy and we know them all.

The "homosexuality is wrong" language is dehumanizing and dishonest. It stops conversations, burns bridges, and compromises the ability of Christians to live out the gospel and make disciples.

Homosexuality isn't some abstract political issue. People matter. Language matters. Sin matters, too, but that's true for all of us. We're not exactly closing our doors to gluttons, materialists, porn-watchers, or the self-righteous (can you imagine?!); why has the Church made homosexuality such a deal-breaker?

There are gay people within our churches and communities. They aren't projects for us to fix--they are our sisters and brothers. The last thing Christians are called to do is drive people away with rhetoric, easy answers and a lack of grace.

Loving people well matters. Changing our language, listening better, and having honest conversations about sexuality, scripture and what it really looks like to honor God are a few good places to start.

{image source}

a fleeting beating of hearts

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 05:45:00 +0000

April all an ocean away

Is this the better way to spend the day?

Keeping the winter at bay

I've been writing--just not here--and I miss you, lovelies. But I've got these ones, I do, and we're still coming down off our holidays. Sometime I'll tell you the story of how we interchanged all our bedrooms over Thanksgiving, and we're still finding homes for everything. The wee set share a room now, which has been its own adventure.

Vinyl butterflies still decorate walls that now belong to Jim and me. Will I know when it's time to surrender and pretend that "monarch" was our intended master bedroom motif all along?

Blessings, friends, to you and your new year. xo

a new year's blessing {for epiphany & home}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000

ONE: The Lord be with you;

ALL: And also with you.

ONE: Peace be to this house!

ALL: And to all who enter here!

ONE: Let us pray.

O God, your star once shone to show the world that your Son, our Savior, had come. May the light of the star that guided wise men from the east now guide us. Grant us, like them, eyes to recognize the holy in the humble and respond with faith and worship.

As we work, serve and play, keep us in the light of your love.

ALL: May Christ bless our home!

ONE: May all be welcome here,
friend and stranger, near and far.
May each be honored as they enter
and blessed as they leave.

ALL: There is a friend's love in the gentle heart of our Savior.
For love of him we offer friendship
and welcome every guest.

ONE: May God bless this house
from roof to floor, wall to wall,
end to end,
from its foundation and in its covering.
In the name of the triune God,
let all disturbance cease and
captive spirits free.
May God’s Spirit alone
dwell within these walls.

ALL: Christ, in our coming
and in our leaving,
be the Door and the Keeper,
for us and all within this place,
this day and always.
Amen.

Now, door lintels are marked in chalk with:

20 + CMB + 12

The numbers signify the new year, the crosses represent Christ, and CMB stands for Christus Mansionem Benedicat, Latin for May Christ Bless This House. It also recalls the (apocryphal) names of the three wise men [Casper, Melchior, and Balthazar], who followed the star from the east and symbolize that the Light of Christ is for all people.

This house blessing is inspired and adapted from liturgies found here and in Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals.

let love grow

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 06:21:00 +0000

i love the new year. the romance of a fresh start in the bleak mid winter beats back-to-school shoes every time. possibility whispers my name as crisp new calendars replace the ragged, and i'm enough of an idealist to believe that it's never too late to be the change.

discipline and intentionality are both areas where i desire growth this dawning year, but ultimately, the word that best captured my heart's cry is Love.

is there anything so simple or radical?

there are no short cuts in Love. God knows i love the short cuts, but this year, i'm taking the long way: the one that serves and gives and hopes and protects and reflects the very image of God.

that Way.

i know that my own love is insufficient. my love has limits. most days, my selfishness is bigger than my love.

but God's Love is big. his Love is transforming this world and this heart, and his power is made perfect amid weakness. he is faithful to complete the good work begun in us. i'm leaning into that promise.

in 2012, i'm leaning into Love.

Let love and faithfulness never leave you;

bind them around your neck,

write them on the tablet of your heart.

{Proverbs 3:3}

shalom 2009

cultivate 2010

upward. outward. do the work. 2011

{image source}

want to link a favorite post to my 2011 best-of linky? are you a new year's fan or not? did you pick a word for 2012?

happy new year!

2011 on the blog | {& best-of link-up}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 05:43:00 +0000

if i were really organized, i'd have a great year-end list for you, but the truth is, i haven't read enough books or heard enough albums to pretend to tell you my favorites. i used to be That Girl and would like to be again someday, but today is not that day.

we got our year-in-review booklet from wyep, and i was satisfied that they picked the decemberists the king is dead for album of the year, because not only do we actually have it, we saw their incredible tour this spring. so there you go; you get one recommendation from me. i would love to hear some of yours--please culture me!

i wanted to look back on 2011 in this space and remember some of my favorite posts--for me mostly, but for you, too, if you wanted to get a taste of the year here. at the bottom is a linky, and i hope you'll share favorite posts of yours, too.

happy new year, friends. i'm so grateful for sister and fellow pilgrims along the way. your presence truly does lighten the load and cheer a weary heart. thanks for being here:)

2011 in {so much shouting, so much laughter}

soap box-y:

gay bullying is wrong {& christians must not be afraid to stand up}

i am a real american

mommy wars: on being a conscientious objector

media literacy & christian worldview: why sheltering won't suffice

scorecards, slut-shaming & shining a Light

the broken, beautiful Church:

the broken, beautiful Church

the communion of the saints

the church of strangers and aliens. {like me}

Beloved, belong. | {believe, behave, become}

we'll shine like stars in the summer night

a worship deeply rooted & reaching heavenward

in praise of a faith without litmus tests

the Church {a love letter}

poetry:

daughters of jerusalem

i will not forget you

fragile {the days are long}

where i'm from

to one by one forever be

lost and found

i'll know my name as it's called again

mothering:

the grace of losing

violence in the snowy fields

the life bucolic:

life runs through the trees {& in our veins}

sowing seeds of life and love

streams make glad

a great cloud of witnesses

my post at A Deeper Story (and #500)

walk of shame

i am the 99, i am the 1 | living into a theology of enough {series}

{part 1} , {part 2}, {part 3}, {part 4}, {part 5}

{image source}

what are your favorite reads from 2011 that we may have missed? what book, movie or album changed your life?

{linked up with Elizabeth's Esther's Saturday Evening Blog Post.}

let love be our legacy

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

we are spending the tail-end of 2011 with my side of the family, the impassioned and opinionated who yell loud and laugh hard. the wee set love the focused attention of three senior generations, all smiles and giggles.

(the kids sound similarly;)

certain loved ones give me a hard time for being Internet Famous. this is, of course, a tremendous joke, but it got me thinking tonight in the quiet of my parents' living room:

for what do i want to be known?

i can tell you right now, it has nothing at all to do with my twitter following. (so i probably want to spend less time there, yes?)

i'm still hashing out thoughts and dreams for the new year, but i'm pretty sure numbering among few goal lists are:

Stay up wicked late online
Be more indoorsy, or
Spend less time with family

no one sets out to fritter away hours, but we do. i do, at least.

look at these three. these are My People! serving and loving them well--i want to be known for that.

my heart's desire is Christ's Name and renown. i want that to become true. if i'm honest, i largely seek credit, vindication, and attention for myself; i want to want another Way.

i long to speak life, write truth and live into my identity as an image-bearer of a creative, powerful, humble, holy, grace-filled, awesome God. i want to affirm the imago dei in those around me.

(you too?)

let love be our legacy. we want to be known for Love.

star of wonder

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 12:00:00 +0000

friends, i pray that your christmas was merry indeed. we savored our first celebration at home, just the four of us. jim and dylan sang their hearts out at worship on christmas eve, and today was leisurely and lovely here. we opted to read the christmas story at home, snuggled tight, jammie-clad and chins dripping clementine juice.

stockings, crepes, much play, elegant dinner with friends, jim's eggnog and a meandering pursuit of the town's best (worst?) christmas lights rounded out the evening. (and a ryan gosling movie--merry christmas to me!)

as my mother frequently reminds, the 25th is but the first of twelve days of christmas. let the rejoicing continue. the Lord is come!

Then his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy:

‘Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
   for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a mighty savior for us
   in the house of his servant David,
as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old,
   that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us.

Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,
   and has remembered his holy covenant,
the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham,
   to grant us that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,
might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness
   before him all our days.

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
   for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
   by the forgiveness of their sins.
By the tender mercy of our God,
   the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
   to guide our feet into the way of peace.’

{Luke 1:67-79}

the risk of birth

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 00:54:00 +0000

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war & hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out & the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour & truth were trampled by scorn --
Yet here did the Saviour make his home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn --
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

by Madeleine L'Engle

God would be born in thee

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 18:12:00 +0000

i penned a few fragmented thoughts on creating space to see the sacred in our midst over at my friend heatherly's. het is focusing her heart and ours on joy this advent and this year, and she's curated a lovely series of reflections. she writes A Pinkdaisy Life and is one of the most encouraging voices I've met in this online space--one i hope to hug in person sometime. i hope you'll stop by and say hello.

Lo, in the silent night
A child to God is born
And all is brought again
That ere was lost or lorn.

Could but thy soul, O man,
Become a silent night!
God would be born in thee
And set all things aright.

-15th century

the Church {a love letter}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Fri, 16 Dec 2011 22:23:00 +0000

You never were cool, but I liked your style:
flannel graphs, butter cookie tins and junior choir
solos less about perfection than presence.
Gifts offered a King (enthusiasm counted)
Love served warm and strange as potluck,
rhythms generous, comfortable and
radical in their simplicity

Deep and wide, Deep and wide, There's a fountain flowing deep and wiiiiiiiiide

Wasn't there, though?
A grace-well as big as our Lord

We're many kinds of people With many kinds of faces
All colors and all ages too From all times and places

That truth (along with the joy! joy! joy! joy!)
burrowed heart-deep and took root

The church is not a building The church is not a steeple
The church is not a resting place The church is a people

presbyterian, baptist, non-denominational, emergent, episcopal,
In barn or basement, chapel or church
at summer camp in the woods or atop the city,
we worshiped with the Body beautiful.
Your raiment varied and vibrant,
colorful as the members who shared our first Love

I am the Church You are the Church We are the Church together
All who follow Jesus All around the world
Yes we're the Church together

I'm not naive: you are as damaged as you are lovely
Your sharp accusations stung, left me
gasping for breath. Conditional
love at times stained my cheeks
But I'm no innocent, I know that.
My words wielded like daggers and
I've withheld grace, too
Unforgiveness is an ugly mistress
God, we're a wretched lot

But our imperfect love is velveteen real
surpassing what-if, should-have and didn't-you every day of the week

Community is hard. Love is harder
--and easier, too, somehow. Half is showing up

At our best, you pointed me to the One who
holds us together, reconciling to
a Father who loves, the
creation which groans and
one another, that we may be healed

You knew my heart
the hard and wounded places, too
and loved me all the more

Our Love lights the darkness
never so hot or bright as when our gaze turns outward
Let's lay down arms, love
Take my hand and remember
the Hope to which we are called

{image source}

don we now our gay apparel*

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 16:24:00 +0000

may your days be merry, bright and eggnog spiked.

*friends, this lyric from "deck the halls" seemed apropos for an occasion as festive as our annual ugly sweater christmas party. it is not a gay joke. i trust you know it's not like that here.

a creeper was stirring

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 06:15:00 +0000

after the party. jim checks on a sleeping dylan and tucks the covers over her gently.

dylan, stirring: hi, dad.
jim, whispering: hi, dylan.
dylan: who showed up?
jim: i'll tell you in the morning
dylan, mischievously: i know... mrs. reynolds!
jim, surprised: were you creeping?
dylan: yes.
jim: goodnight, dylan
dylan: good night, dad.

that God became a mother's son

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 19:27:00 +0000

Poets and myth-makers and other tellers of stories and fairy tales have often spoken of mothers. One time they meant the earth; another time they meant nature. By this word they tried to disclose the mysterious creative fount of all things, to conjure up the welling mystery of life. In all this there was hunger and anticipation and longing and Advent--waiting for this blessed woman.

That God became a mother's son; that there could be a woman walking the earth whose womb was consecrated to be the holy temple and tabernacle of God--that is actually earth's perfection and the fulfillment of its expectations.

So many kinds of Advent consolation stream from the mysterious figure of the blessed, expectant Mary. The gray horizons must grow light. It is only the immediate scene that shouts so loudly and insistently. Beyond these things is a different realm, one that is now in our midst. The woman has conceived the child, sheltered it beneath her heart, and given birth to the Son. The world has come under a different law. We are not speaking of only historical events that happened once, on which our salvation rests. Advent is the promise denoting the new order of things, of life, of our existence.

We must remember today with courage that the blessed woman of Nazareth foreshadows the light in our midst today. Deep down in our being, our days and our destinies, too, bear the blessing and mystery of God.

-Alfred Delp, Watch for the Light.

Mommy Gear Breastfeeding Boutique | December Featured Partner

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 11:59:00 +0000

Those of you who have breastfed know that shopping for nursing bras can be a horror. They can resemble medieval torture devices and be about as supportive--and attractive--as training bras for prepubescent girls.

I have no idea why, during the fragile post-partum time when a woman needs the most support in the bra department, she is generally offered the least in both form and function. When I first had Dylan, I thought that ugly, flimsy bras from the big box stores were the extent of my options as a breastfeeding mom. It's not like Victoria's Secret sells nursing wear.

{Side note: have you ever taken your pregnant self--or a toddler--into Victoria's Secret? They look at you like you have three eyes. Or six boobs. Hot young things are welcome but women in the family way? Not so much.}

Shortly into breastfeeding, I discovered Mommy Gear, a place where moms and families are valued, breastfeeding is supported, and new moms are honored as women who deserve to feel pretty, confident, and well cared for.

I am thrilled that Mommy Gear is my featured sponsor for December, and I get to share this fantastic mom-owned company with you. My friend Dawn opened Mommy Gear out of her home in 1996, and she is a tremendous resource for breastfeeding moms and families. Her online business ships bras, breastpumps, and nursing clothes all over the world. Mommy Gear's beautiful brick-and-mortar store stocks nursing bras in sizes ranging from 30A - 48K and carries anything a breastfeeding mama might need and more than a few things she'd want, like a great baby carrier.

Mommy Gear carries a variety of options for babywearing moms and dads, including slings, wraps and both soft and structured carriers. Wouldn't an Ergo be a great family Christmas gift--or how about these Ergo doll carriers for the wee set? So cute!

"Mommy Gear is where fashion meets function for breastfeeding moms. We believe that breastfeeding is beautiful and want every mom to define her own breastfeeding success. We are here to encourage and support each mom every step of the way, whether she is expecting, breastfeeding, or exclusively pumping."

Dawn wasn't kidding about fashion: have you ever even seen a sexy nursing bra? Mommy Gear also carries sleep bras, sports bras, nursing bras from Bravado, La Leche League, Goddess for full figures, and many more.

Mommy Gear is running a fun series of daily promotions called the 25 Days of Christmas: each day, one brand is 25% off with a coupon code.

Save 25% on all Cake Maternity & Nursing Lingerie using coupon code 7THDAY until noon 12/8/2011.

Keep up with Mommy Gear on facebook and find quality breastfeeding apparel, nursing gear, and all kinds of items for baby and mom during their 25 Days of Christmas and throughout your breastfeeding journey.

Warm thanks to Dawn and Mommy Gear for sponsoring my site this month.

mourning in lonely exile

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah {so much shouting, so much laughter}) — Sat, 03 Dec 2011 14:56:00 +0000

Advent hits me harder than lent. It's the waiting, I think: the quiet contrast of a teen-aged mother to the holidaze of shopping and hurrying. It's the reminder that we're not just counting down to Christmas but to the second coming of Christ, when this too shall be made right.

The waiting is the hardest part, after all.

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

My spirit is acquainted with loneliness, the echo of exile. The stranger and alien are familiar roles.

Advent reminds me gently that my Lord knows that path better than I ever will. Born a refugee during a genocide, his young family spent their first years in exile. Returning home, theirs was an occupied province where the realities of the Pax Romana were far removed from the shalom of God.

To follow Christ is to drink the cup of suffering. We'll never feel truly at Home until he calls us there.

****

This summer at the the U2 show, we had a little church up in section 521. One of my favorite songs, of theirs or anyone else's, remains this:

I have climbed highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
I have run
I have crawled
I have scaled these city walls
Only to be with you

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her fingertips
It burned like a fire
This burning desire

I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of a devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

I believe in the Kingdom Come
Then all the colors will bleed into one
But yes I'm still running

You broke the bonds
And you loosed the chains
Carried the cross
Of my shame
You know I believe it

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for

Years ago, at a youthworkers' convention, a christian band covered it, changing the last words to "I finally found what I'm looking for," all smiles and jubilant arm waving.

In tidying up the loose ends, they missed the point. Their version was hollow, and its lyrics rung false.

Have any of us found what we're looking for?

As Christians, we live the in-between. We know the hope of resurrection that defeated sin and death on the cross, and we have glimpsed a coming Kingdom, but it's not yet fully realized this side of heaven

We look around, and much is broken.

Our sisters ache. Our brothers hunger.

During advent, we await a King who will mend all the broken places: not just the Babe in a manger long ago, but the One who will come in glory, whose Kingdom will have no end.

So we rejoice, even in suffering, because exile is not the end of the Story:

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. 'He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new.”

We remember and take heart. We remind each other that we're waiting for that which we have already seen.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.