Soaking up the Golden Sun of Italy: the Vacation of a Lifetime

Guess where we're going for my birthday?!!!  This will be homebase for the next two weeks:  Fattoria le Sorgenti, a vineyard 20 minutes outside of Florence.  Glory. 

I was born in Genoa so in a way this is a type of homecoming though I was only a year when we left.  For the past five years, my parents and siblings and I have been dreaming about this Italy vacation and it is finally here! Fortunately, unlike some Europeans, the Italians adore children and I'm looking forward to seeing my children interacting with them.

Can't wait to tell you all about it when I come home: 

May 12th.

Summer Joy

Contentment Exercise: Simple. extremely simple thanksgivings

I love lists. I'm not always good at looking at the list after I've made it...but it is so much fun to write down all the things I hope to accomplish. This list is different, but is so much more satisfying! Its about thanking God for the little things.


True joy is not bound by our circumstances. This is one of those truths that I am bound and determined to get through my thick skull. My circumstances are going to be good some days and bad some days but I so want to live like the people in Psalm 84 who in their pilgrimage go from strength to strength.


This spiritual exercise from www.aholyexperience.com is one of those ways to lift our minds from the distortion of self-focus to the Giver of all good things.


Join me in journaling your own simple thanksgivings.


Xavier slathered with banana, shirt, face, hair


Xavier in the bath giggling, getting banana swabbed off


Caedmon and Andrew identifying with the iphone app the songs of the birds they were hearing outside the bedroom window


"What hero are they singing about?" Caed asked about a song on Pandora this morning, "Jesus, Caed."  "Oh," he said.  "I was wondering because I don't even have my sword and shield on me."


a quiet moment with morning tea before cleaning, baby napping


God's continued teaching.  He will accomplish that which He set out to do. 


Answers to prayer.  We've been fasting on Thursdays and God has been more than faithful.


Intercessory prayer: leaving it all at His feet.


Italy in less than a week, family, vineyards, Florence


Betty Jo, our favorite baby whisperer is going with us!

Maddie's Day With Mommy

Madeline stayed home from preschool last Wednesday.  She had been acting super whiny and angry, teasing her brothers incessantly and spending lots of time on the time-out chair.  Her blanket was never far away...and neither was her thumb.  Hmmm. 

She had stayed at Andrew's parents and then mine for a few days the week before while mommy and daddy went south to a diocesan convention.  Obviously she was very loved and taken care of, but she needed to be grounded again.  She needed to be reminded that she was loved.  She needed her identity grounded. 

It was simple, really.  We played a few small board games, talked about being princesses: "I'm a princess, mommy."  "Ya Maddie?"  "Ya," she pointed to her dress-up dress, "because princesses wear puffed sleeves."  Smile.  I love the logic of a three year old.

We read a book on the couch and then had lotion massages of our feet. Then, we spent the last half hour cleaning together.  "Mom, I want to go wherever you go."  That's what she always says when she feels especially loved.  (Check out The Five Love Languages of Children by Gary Smalley.)  By noon she was Maddie again and I had my daughter back. 

Fast forward a few days to Sunday afternoon.  I'm exhausted.  Tearful.  And looking for myself in other people's eyes.  Hmmm.  I needed my identity grounded again.  And I needed powerful medicine.  A friend who takes care of the kids was able to love on them that afternoon until Andrew came home.  Thank goodness.  I knew I wouldn't be a good mother until I got life straightened back out.  I needed a real sabbath.

My sister understood and talked straight to me when I called her on the phone.  Bad day, I said.  Sugar's off (both of us have an insulin imbalance that effects us emotionally.)  "Summer," she said, "this is normal.  Get into scripture.  Read one truth after another until the truth starts sticking again." 

She was right.  I sat down with a large Thai chicken soup at a Noodles and slowly read truth. 

First, interestingly enough, the Lord had to speak truth to how I got there.  "Stop chasing after fruit, Summer."  Oh.  Ya.  Fruit should happen naturally and I was spinning busily in a lot of different directions.  Summer, Abide.  Be Still.  Sit.  Stay.  Nest here in Me. 

Your primary purpose is not to be fruitful, but to delight in Me...to be my own.

Your primary purpose is not fruit

not production, i.e. writing, housework

not intercession

not wisdom

not teaching

not even mothering.

Your primary purpose is here, with Me.  "I will plant her FOR MYSELF in the land."  Hosea 2:23 

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4 

Yup.  I am a fruit-chaser.  Guilty.  Exhausted and guilty.  

Then, and this truly was the surprising part.  Here's the next verse that was staring at me to attend to it. 

"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us that we should be called children of God" from 1 John 3:1 

I needed my true identity rubbed into me like a lotion, lavishly.  I needed to be reminded of who He was and again, who I am.  I am a child of God with a Father who is lavish with his love. 

His truth is always powerful medicine.  Like Madeline, soon I was righted again, standing up straight, not bent toward others' view of me, not spinning in haphazard busyness, but confidently abiding in His Presence.

My dear Luminous Women, our call to sabbath, (one of those 10 commandments, remember) is not a selfish day away from our dear little ones (or big ones :), but necessary time spent listening to that Voice healing and transforming us. It is a long drink from the living water, not just the usual short swigs that leave us thirsty and still dehydrated. Sabbath is how we get reestablished in our identity and hear that call to "Come away, my Beloved."  Be here.  Stay here.  Abide. 

Chicken Tortilla Soup: 20 minutes Tops

on the way to school

Dinnertime might be the most stressful time of the day in my home and Andrew is usually in a Bible study or working with the youth...so we've done something most families cannot do, we've swapped dinner for lunch.  This soup makes dinner at lunchtime a snap without taking away any of my extra kids-are-at-preschool-quick-I-need-to-clean time. 

Chicken Tortilla Soup takes literally 20 minutes start to finish.  At 11:30AM the storm door slams on the little yellow cottage's front door and Andrew walks the two blocks to the kids' Wisconsin Synod Lutheran Preschool.  By the time all three of them walk back up the front steps, dandilions in hand, this soup can be on the table.

Chicken Tortilla Soup
1 tsp olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 141/2 ounce can chicken broth
1 16 ounce jar salsa mild
3/4 cup water
10 ounces cooked, shredded chicken 
(Great for left over chicken.  I've even used high grade canned chicken breast in a pinch.)
1 8 3/4 ounce can whole kernel corn
2 Tbsp chopped fresh cilantro
1 cup crushed tortilla chips
1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Heat oil in a saute pan,
saute garlic for 30 seconds until fragrant.
Add chicken broth, salsa, and water. 
Stir in chicken, corn and cilantro. 
Heat to boiling.  Reduce heat to medium low.
Cook, covered for 5 minutes.
Stir in tortilla chips and cheese or let each put in their own.


Thank you Kathy Sicard for this great recipe!

Where's the Gift in That?

First Ice Cream of the Season

With three kids five and under there's no way not to be overwhelmed.  Really. I have no idea how mothers of more do it.  It is a sun up to sun down work that is mostly physical toughness with a few moments of sweetness thrown in like sugared almonds: consistent discipline, a huge amounts of energy, and meeting lots of physical needs random and otherwise.

I was just getting the hang of mothering when baby #3 came. I was no longer feeling my stress level rise when I thought about getting two out of the house and into carseats. Bedtime was no longer a matter for much prayer, dreaded, feared and finally, after accomplishing, landing in a lump of exhaustion on the couch in front of the tv with a glass of chocolate milk.

Then, we happily upped the ante. I had wanted more than two, had prayed about more than two but was truly surprised by the reality. Whenever babies cross the 20 month threshold, they get much easier and I knew that we had about two years of exhaustion heading our direction.



But, truthfully, I find myself in a contentment tug of war with whatever stage of life I am in. I strain toward the future instead of resting in the present. I recently had about four days with Andrew at diocesan convention with kids at grandparents and easily slid into being able to finish thoughts on my blog, an hour of two of prayer time, daily exercise and adult conversations that were meaty and satisfying.

On coming home I was in a bit of a culture shock. If I get a shower each day, I feel that life is a success. Doing the breakfast dishes before dinner takes a major act of the will and sometimes two or three tries at the thing.  You know how it is.

The point is that I stopped today, plugged into a moment of quiet with God and asked Him how my day should go. (connecting to the Vine) He showed me the beautiful face of my daughter enrapt with a squirrel out the window, the profile of my son working on his first letter at the computer "I luv u mom" and my heart melted. I slowed down. So, I'm not going to be able to get as much done today, but, I will get to enjoy the Gifts in my midst.
 
We have lovely friends at our church who always tell me that they were surpised by a statement that I use: "there's a gift in that."    Whenever I share a personal story, no matter how bleak, there's always a gift to receive from God.  They repeat it back to me now when sharing the gifts of God in the midst of their messy, imperfect lives. 
 
He can redeem and bring gifts into whatever frustrating situation we find ourselves in.
 
So, my dear, now I ask you..."where is the gift in that?" 

In fact, I ask you, do you want to leave this timeperiod, this hardship without the gift?  Beg God to give you the gift of this place, to mature you, to show you how you need to grow.  Don't leave this difficulty without more. 

Consider it pure joy, my sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverence.  Perseverence must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  James 1:2-4

Go deeper:  Much of what we need to learn and grow can only be unlocked through the Word and through God's person, Himself.  Do a keyword search on an attribute of God on http://www.biblegateway.com/  Come back to the computer for a few seconds all day long and read the next verse.  This is one of the greatest faith, hope and trust builders I know...let alone a way to constantly abide in Him.

"Be still and know that I am God."  Psalm 46:10

Dealing with Times of Isolation and the Fear of Depression

I don't like isolation. I go to coffee shops to be alone. I like taking my kids out of the house to the beach on sunny days, and the children's museum on rainy ones. But, when I had this last baby, I knew I was going to be going underground and wouldn't be coming up for air for about a year. Three kids under the age of five? I better severely lower my expectations. This is not good news for an extrovert and I was already fearing a descent into depression. I always have severe anxiety before my children are born, wondering how the new little one is going to make life different/more difficult, etc.


A few months beforehand, I went to work and went into preparation mode, listening (I should always be in listening mode, right? Right.) These were the gifts I received that made going into isolation so much easier.


1. A word of wisdom (divine revelation or just encouragement?) beforehand from my good friend, Erika. She said she saw me with a baby in a front pack, strollering my two older and with joy on my face. She imagined that I was entering that time with grace, loving being a mom of three and peaceful in my new circumstances. When I began to fear this outcome, I would remember her encouragement and thank the Lord for this outcome. Incidentally, although some days I was overwhelmed, underneath it all was an undercurrent of strength (definitely of the LORD! )


2. I took a retreat at my sister's house with my kids at Grandma's house a few miles away, to settle down, think and pray.  I knew I needed more than just a random hour or two to catch up on lost pregnancy sleep and listen to wisdom. I needed a 24 hour time period and my mom and sister were kind enough to help.

3. I reread Hinds Feet on High Places and was reminded about the little yellow flower named Acceptance with Joy blooming in the middle of the desert, lifting up her head to a drain pipe, thankful for what she was given. I began to trust that God would indeed give me what I needed when I needed it.


4. I determined that every day I was going to live in thankfulness..particularly for God's character. I followed Linda Dillow's advice in "Satisfy My Thirsty Soul," and made a list from A-Z of all the names/attributes/adjectives I could think of about God and tried to commit them to memory. It is hard to get beyond "D" without a renewed vision of life. If I could not think of anything to be thankful for, I would look outside and thank God for whatever I could see. "Thank you God for trees. Thank you God that it is summertime." Thankfulness for me was an act of the will.


5. At the time, I was doing a Bible study on the Apostle John by Beth Moore and she imagined what it must have been like for John sailing on a boat to the island of Patmos where he would most likely be in a work camp with only the most hardened criminals as fellow passengers. He had no idea, she said, that in the midst of his isolation, he would see revelations of the glory of God. What a great thing to pray, right? We can pray for visions of God's glory to surprise us in the midst of our isolation. As I prayed for a new vision of God's glory, fear was beginning to fade away.


6. Finally, I read an autobiography by LeAnne Payne talking about how she learned to practice the presence of God (thank you Brother Lawrence), abiding in God (John 15) on a minute by minute basis. She so inspired me that I read a few more of her books, including Listening Prayer, which should be a standard for everyone.  She taught me that prayer was not something that you did a few times a day, but a dwelling in, listening for the word that God is always sending.  I had never experienced such peace.


And darling friend, I was given that amazing gift! Sometimes, in fact after the difficult isolation was over, I wanted it back! I had never felt so full of the Lord and my need for spending time with other people diminished considerably!  I was able to stand up straight (not needy) in a listening posture, enjoying the abundant, fruit-filled presence of a loving God.

I put this out there for anyone who might be going through something similar, but also to remind myself, (I'm good at forgetting) if I ever go through a season like this again, I will go to truth first, to my library second and never go back to fear.

From the Theologian, The Barefoot Contessa: Ina Garten, on HOME :)

The following is an article from Ina Garten's book, Barefoot Contessa at Home.  It was reprinted in House Beautiful a few years ago and PLEASE, forgive me for not knowing which one.  I keep this article in my cleaning/cooking control journal on my kitchen counter and am afraid to lose it.(what if there's a fire? :) I think you'll love her thoughts on nesting and entertaining as much as I.  She puts into words something we all feel.

So, here it is:
"Something smells really good!" my husband, Jeffrey exclaims every Friday when he walks in the door.  Most weeks, Jeffrey has been around the world and back and when he walks in that door, I want him to feel that he's really home.  What he doesn't realize is that what feels very casual is, in fact, quite deliberate: the music is playing, all the lights are on, there are flowers everywhere, and chicken and onions are roasting in the oven.

I didn't always know how to do all that.  It took time and lots of experiementation.  Over the 38 years we've been married, I've tried everything-the good, the bad, and the ugly.  But, I've evolved a style that seems to work for me.  I like knowing that there are twenty new magazines on the coffee table, delicous French teas in the pantry, and expensive bubble baths next to the tub.  A good home should gather you up in its arms like a warm cashmere blanket, soothe your hurt feelings, and prepare you to go back out into that big bad world tomorrow, all ready to fight the dragons. 

I'm basically a nester.  All day long, I feel as though I'm batting back the baseballs that are being hurled at me:  decisions to make, places to go, cranky people to deal with...and when I come home, I want my house to feel serene and beautiful, like the way you feel when you get into a bed piled high with down pillows; you're safe.

Sounds like Eden, right?  minus the long line of animals waiting to be named.

Later, in the same article, she says:
What really makes a house or apartment feel like home?  For me, it's good music, great smells from the kitchen, pretty flowers, and a quiet, relaxed atmosphere.  Sure, it has to make Jeffrey and me comfortable, but equally important, it has to make my friends want to drop by.  It's often said that first impressions count when you're meeting someone new, and I think it's the same for a house.  How people feel when they walk in the door really sets the mood.  I want to appeal to all their senses.  When they walk through the house, I want them to smell something delicious, even if it's as simple as freshly brewing coffee.  They see things that are beautiful:  orange tulips, antique rugs, and an antique coatrack on which to hang their coats.  They hear good music and, most important of all, they feel my warm embrace, which I hope makes them feel right at home."

This is a type of hospitality that I aspire to even on ordinary days, and one which my mother, Bethel, has developed over the years.  (Even her name speaks of a spiritual nesting place: House of God!) 

My dad will often call from his cell phone as he leaves the hospital after an exhausting day of nine hours on his feet, head bowed over his patient, and hands making tiny meticulous movements.  With that call, my mom goes into action.  She puts Norah Jones on the ipod speaker, sets the table with a candle and with dinner, already in progress, (she's been roasting a lot of root vegetables lately:  Yum.), she welcomes dad home. 

There is joy in his arrival...always joy.  She recently told me that she consciously decided early on in their marriage to always have joy when he came home: a kiss, a smile, and when we were kids, she taught us to run to the door and see who could jump in dad's arms first.  Sometimes mom would race us and get there first.

To me, these are images of peace, love, grace and of course, joy.  I believe that every decision in our lives, is a decision toward or away from God...and that nesting itself can make our homes into places of "Your Kingdom Come," and reflections of the Eden God intended.

Thanksgiving as an Act of the Will

Wow.  I love her focus and honesty.  Ann Voskamp (with a great deal of poetic storytelling) reminds us that perfectionism is a sickness that can bring on depression and challenges us to lives of obedient thankfulness.  If you click on this button above, you will be able to read her story.

I love that after she grumbles, her husband asks, "You just fallen sick with perfectionism again?”
What a great reminder.  So, I'll join her gratitude community with these afternoon thanksgivings:
1. I'm thankful for three, beautiful, healthy children.  Each too smart for their and my own good.
2. I'm thankful for a husband "who's crazy as me" as Allison Kraus sings
3. I'm thankful that God comforts, challenges, and transforms all through a book I can hold in my hand, always accessible.
4. I'm thankful for health.  It wasn't long ago that I rode a sugar roller coaster, not sure why.  I'm thankful for my insilin stabilizer.  My husband is thankful too.
5. I'm thankful for daffadils with orange centers, swaying in my backyard.
6. I'm thankful for a nap today.  Baby woke up way too early.
7. I'm thankful for Pandora radio stations.  I love Sara Groves in the morning and Louis Armstrong to start us dancing around the dinner-making time, when we are all dragging.
8. I'm thankful for Tuesday Sabbath and a babysitter who adores my children.
9. I'm thankful to be a part of intercessors in South Haven who will meet tonight at the Assemblies of God.
10. I'm thankful for Andrew and my parents who gave our children amazing gifts of quality time last week, and through that, infusions of the DNA of their spirits.  I'm always so sad that we don't live closer. 

Now, back to trying to clean with three children bounding around like Tiggers.  This time, I will approach our hardwood floors without the perfectionism.

My Working Image: Home as Sabbath

Pay no attention to the cheerios on the floor.  Before I can do an after- Easter- and- after-spring- vacation cleaning overhaul, I need serious inspiration.  

 Why is a home that is welcoming and peaceful to my family an essential?  Remind me again.

Sabbath.  Sabbath is usually understood as time set apart for refreshment, joy, feasting and with reconnecting with God.  So, here's the deal: I've noticed a distinct difference in the quality of my Sabbath (either once a week, or as my daily peace) if my counters are cleared off, the tea kettle is ready to make morning tea and the bathtub is ready for a soak. 

I find it extremely difficult to Sabbath with chaos looming. 

So, this is my working image for my home: my home should be a Sabbath.  When my kids come home from preschool, I want to welcome them into a space that prompts their creativity to come alive.  When Andrew and I come home from an exhausting Sunday morning, we need to come home to a space that will speak, "Peace be still", not be demanding "attention, attention please" like a yappy dog.

If I can create some semblance of peace throughout my home, the space itself can fade into the background becoming just a set backdrop instead of a grumpy main character. 

Just some thoughts so that hopefully, tomorrow morning's cleaning spree can be more effective.  More on this subject later...

So, in the morning, I will put on jeans, a t-shirt, a red toile apron (geeky, I know, but with a uniform, I have a conscious reminder of my purpose and don't veer off into facebook land, etc.  Besides, it has a pocket for my phone and music:)  I'll put on French music, open the windows to let the breeze in and keep baby busy with a procession of finger foods. 

Question:  How is your home part of your ministry?

Happy Monday to all of you from the little yellow (getting cleaner all the time) cottage.

I Found a New Heroine to Collect: Baroness Caroline Cox

I’ve lost my husband. We are driving home north along route 70 from our Holy Spirit Diocesan Synod and the New Wineskins Conference through the mountains of North Carolina/Tennessee. Andrew has taken a detour into a mountain town where the streams and trout are legendary. On our way south through this town, we had seen a barefoot boy, about ten years old standing outside the gas station without a fishing pole, but with a large fish on a string. He raised the fish in greeting to his mother who picked him (and the fish) up in a station wagon and brought them home. I think it was then that Andrew determined that this is where we would stop on the way home. About ten minutes ago, he pulled over on the side of the road and just about pushed me and my computer out, so here I am at a small café writing…and with children still with Grandparents in Columbus, OH, I’m able to actually keep my train of thought. Hallelujah, what a gift!



I think Andrew is a bit disappointed that I didn’t go fishing with him, but my heart is too full from the lecture by Baroness Caroline Cox I just had the privilege to witness. In her, I have found another strong, life-giving woman for my personal gallery of women. In a world which collects plastic Barbie dolls who lose their beauty in a few years and who whine through life, I think it is essential that we as women are inspired by stories of those who courageously transform the world around them.


I wish I knew more of Caroline Cox’s story, but what I do know is that she was appointed to the House of Lords in England after living as a nurse in northern Sudan before the coup by the Khartoum Arabs in 1989. Now, besides having a seat in Parliament, having recently been the House’s Deputy Speaker, she travels to areas in the world that are ravaged by war. The Baroness has established her own relief organization and then after providing what assistance she can, she reports back to England. Besides writing many books on slavery, militant Islam and martyrdom, Caroline Cox speaks all around the world, unabashedly showing the truth through her well-done research and documenting pictures. At New Wineskins, she dared us to look at what many throughout the world experience personally. One was a picture of what looked like a five year old with a pink shirt who was naked below the waist (raped?) and whose hand had been cut off. Although I only looked for a moment, I will never forget this girl around the age of my own children whose life had been so brutally taken away.


A few unforgettable notes from her talk:


Islamic Sharia Law is starting to undercut the British System of justice by holding their own courts at which women are not given equal treatment under the law. Christian ministers in England are beginning to be persecuted when they publically are open about their own Christianity. One priest handing out invitations to Christmas services which just included the name of his local Anglican Church and the service times and had his computers taken away and was told that he would be prosecuted if he ever did that again. This silencing of religious freedom is happening throughout the United Kingdom. AND THIS IS ENGLAND, folks!


A Muslim man who holds a seat in the legislature in Uganda told a Christian legislator that the Muslims would take over Uganda through the sheer number of children they would have. “We Muslims are polygamists and if I have four wives, I can have over 30 children. You go ahead and be monogamous. We will take over this country soon.” (This is my own paraphrase.)


Caroline Cox reported Muslims around the world are strategically buying huge portions of Uganda’s social services, banks, etc. in order to be able to gain political clout and force their decisions upon the country. (She said that this was worse in Uganda but was happening all over the world.)


In the Sudan, a blind woman and her malnourished child would not travel to where she knew food and clothing was because the owner of the social service would not give out their help unless the receivers recanted their Christianity and became Muslim. “We will stay here and die and stay Christian.” No one, least of all a mother with a young child, should have to make that choice.


The Deng orphans in the Southern Sudan are kept in a rural area on purpose by the bishop of that area because, he said, that was the only way that they would be protected in order to stay Christian.


Slavery has been used as a weapon of Jihad in the Sudan where thousands of women and children have been marched north to live with Arab families in order to become Islamicised and Arabicised and to be forced to bear Arab children.


The Baroness showed a picture of a Nigerian bishop who, because of mujahidin (jihad warriors) raids, daily watches the churches in his diocese burn and whose life and clergy’s lives were constantly in danger. His wife had been brutally assaulted and he had been held at gunshot by Jihadists in front of his children while his home was burned. This bishop, Ben Kwashi said this: “If we have a faith worth living for, it is a faith worth dying for. Don’t you (in the West) compromise the faith that we are dying for.”


Bishop, we pray that we will live with courage in our small worlds, fighting in prayer for you and training our people for true maturity in the faith. (“My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you.” Galatians 4:19) You, as well as Caroline Cox have challenged us to look beyond ourselves and never be silent in the face of the suffering around the world.


We started the second New Wineskins’ session with glorious worship while being surrounded by the flags of the nations, which reminded me of the yearly week-long missions conferences of my youth in the Christian Missionary Alliance. Halfway through Baroness Caroline’s challenge, I sunk into my chair in deep disappointment that I had not been allowed to go to Trinity School for Ministry in Pittsburgh from Western Michigan. Just that conference alone would have enriched my seminary experience more than all the Politically Correct gatherings I attended at Virginia Theological Seminary. I look forward to going to the next New Wineskins Conference with my children, giving them the experience of shaking hands with the quiet heroes of the faith like I had a chance to as a young child. Thanks, Mom and Dad!


At New Wineskins I got to experience once again that the Anglican Church around the world is alive and yes, Bishop Kwashi, we are praying that the faith in North America will not be compromised but that some of us will have enough courage not just to stand firm, but to aid you in your fight against poverty and injustice.


Now, hopefully, I’ll find my husband soon, happy, suntanned and well-fished.

Easter: What it is Like to be a Priest and a Mom

 Easter Morning

Can you see Madeline's sweet little head between us? 

Madeline, and in fact, all of my kids were seriously clingy on Sunday morning.  After a morning of feeding on Easter sugar (only a few jelly beans after peanut butter sandwiches),a week of late-night Holy Week services, the fabulous excitement of a visit from Nana, what could I expect?  The morning had gone unbelievably well and in fact, later on, the service did as well.  The clothes were all laid out and ironed, the baskets had been hidden the night before, and Xavier gave me an unprecedented half hour to get ready and do my hair.  At church, before the service, the children practiced forming knots in my cincture while I was trying to visit with a parishioner. I was in that Mommy-fog where I am trying to focus while being squeezed by my cincture like a girdle in Gone with the Wind. 

 Before the service, we lined the children up next to us in chairs in the beginning of the service: Dad, Madeline, Mom and Xavier, and then Caedmon.  (We do a form of Chatechesis of the Good Shepherd but everyone wants to be in the Easter service so we don't have chatechesis on that day.)   They listened, sat fairly still and were generally obedient.  Xavier got himself tangled in my stole and for the rest of the day, it was off-kilter, but for the most part, there was peace. 

We switched holding Xavier so I could read the gospel and then the kids and I got settled along with other children in the service around round tables in the back of the "cafetorium" to color during the sermon. (I only preach about once a month right now.)  Xavier took his bottle during most of the sermon so I could listen.  I love hearing Andrew's sermons and never want to miss.

Then, right before the Eucharistic prayer, Madeline started asking to be held.  Usually, this clinginess does not effect bad behavior in her, so I thought, why not keep her with me behind the altar?  She can be close to mom.  I can celebrate with Andrew.  Its' all good. 

Andrew and I find celebrating together, lifting our people to God and feeding them with Christ Himself, the weekly culmination of our ministry together.  We look forward to reading the Eucharistic prayer back and forth and our people often say that there is a sense of wholeness in seeing us both behind the altar together, something they miss otherwise. 

So, there I am, as in the picture, arms lifted, praying these ancient prayers, when Madeline starts twisting up in both my stole and cincture, twirling as an acrobat holding onto a rope.  OK, Summer, concentrate.  Focus.  Prayers again.  Then, a moment later, while Andrew was praying, Madeline leans up and says, "Mommy, I have to go potty." 

Hmmmm.  A three year old who has to go potty is someone who holds a serious amount of power.  She said it straight forward, not whiny.  It was just the truth.  A potty must be found.  There was no wishing this away and no leaning down to ask if she can hold it.  Too distracting.  So, I take her by the hand and lead her all the way out the service, straight to the middle school restrooms.  Potty.  Thanks mom.  Of course.  I love you, Madeline.  I love you Mommy. 

Yes, it is good.  Motherhood and Priesthood all wrapped together is good.  I wouldn't wish it any other way. 

On the day after my ordination to the priesthood, I received a word from the Lord that I would soon have a double vocation:  Priesthood and Motherhood.  I was not pregnant, had not been able to conceive as yet, but was waiting.  It was as if the Lord was telling me not to have a preconceived idea of what priesthood was going to look like.

Priesthood is never more important than Motherhood in our home, but it is like a piece of abstract art, colors all jumpled up, a bit messy, but beautiful. I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Aslan Always Wins

The kids and I started the first day of Lent with The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe intending to read a chapter a day.  Caed got sick a week later and we ended up reading ten chapters in that one day in between emergency trips to the bathroom.  And so for that one day we got to live in the adventure that is Narnia.    Every once in a while the children would get scared when the suspense was strong, the outcome looked bleak or when the White Witch would seem too powerful and they wouldn't want to read any more.  At that moment, I would repeat, "What do we know for sure?"  "Oh ya," we would all say, "Aslan always wins."

Aslan always wins.  That's what the theme of Easter has been for me this year.  He always wins.  When I'm frustrated with my own spiritual growth, "Oh ya, He who began a good work in me will carry it on to completion.  Phil 1:6"  When the spiritual warfare becomes hot, I remember Revelations.  We already know the end of the story: He always wins.

"I live! Saith the Lord God.  Every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that I am God."
Romans 14:11

We know the end of the story.  And, we know that in the meantime, He promised He would be with us, never forsaking us.  I can handle obeying, following, listening to and walking with God, for whom Aslan is a shaddow.  And I look forward to continuing on this journey with you, friends.

Happy Easter from the Gross' 

Mommy Vitamin of the Day

My mom's friend said this profound nugget: "My friends always are saying that they wished they had spent more time playing with their children.  None of them wish they had spent more time cleaning."

I always wish I had Mary Poppins' fingers and could clean up the house with a snap.