Author Archives: Elea Lee

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About Elea Lee

Foster parent, adopting parent, family advocate, educator, homeschool parent

Losing Sleep

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The Dragon and the Nanny Goat did not take long to realize that this baby was going to be a game-changer.

The Mama Dragon’s already blood-shot eyes had a weary quality about them as she woke frequently to feed her hungry little charge. He ate constantly! She got nothing done!. What would she do without Nanny?! Nanny came by each days and fed the little one while mama rested, concocting nourishing soups for Mama and either nursing him herself or feeding him through a clever milk-skin pouch.

Whenever Dragon bemoaned her loss of freedom and flight time, Nanny gently shook her head and tutted–oh, dearie, they are but babes for the blink of an eye. You must snuggle them good and feed them up, because before we know it this little fella will be a strapping man with a man’s voice and a man’s armor.

Or she would just coo over his dumpling cheeks, his beautiful round little knees and dimpled smile.

The Author Begins…

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C’mon, said Cowboy, our favorite show, Truck Pull and Lobster Dance is on.
Honey barely heard him. She was transfixed by the illustrations in the odd little book. It was not immediately apparent who was writing the book or who was the intended audience, other than that both appeared to be parents or adoptive parents of some sort.

The prose swung between terse and floral. One page had a step by step guide to nursing and the next had a lullaby about a mother rocking her child during a storm.

Sometimes it did not seem like either the author or the reader was assumed to be human. There were, after all, ornate illustrations of a dragon in a floral apron with a fat little baby in her stubby forearms. His stubby forearms?

And sometimes the dragon was visited by a nanny goat.

All very strange….

Treasure in the snow

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Cowboy and Honey Bunch trudged through the snow. They had a couple bags of groceries nestled in their arms. HB was still quite rotund with child and chafing for a delivery process that would be a bit more challenging than cable tv.

A bit of gold glinted in the driven snow. Cowboy pulled at the corner of a gilded manuscript. It said Nurturing Sunshine in ornate calligraphy on its cover.

Hey! This looks valuable, he said. I wonder if it got lost or stolen from the university library? Or maybe the Jesuits, mused Honey.

I bet it is valuable. They said together. Jinx! Shouted Honey. Cowboy squinted at her with annoyance until she laughingly said his name. Strange that the big rules of the universe were made to be broken, but jinx was sacrosanct.

Something about the book drew Honey. She knew they needed money, but she did not want to let this book go right away. It looked magical.

It’s so cold, she pouted. I want to go home. Let’s read it first, we can take it to E-Z Cash later.

Cowboy grudgingly agreed.

When they got home and began to unthaw Honey Bunch gingerly opened. The book. It’s lettering was ornate and there were a lot of cherub-y illustrations but the book seemed to be a book of lists interspersed with stories. The stories had intricate little illustrations. The lists seemed surprisingly bossy.

Jyoti Singh Pandey

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I stand in honor of this young woman and her grieving family. Like many mothers all over the world I grieve with them and all Indians who are dismayed and outraged that any woman or girl anywhere in the world is in danger–on a bus, on the street, at a party, in a police station, in a hospital.

We who are not Indian should take careful note–the way we react to protect the vulnerable in our culture can, will, and should define us.

Forever.
In honor of her death we all must do better.

Her family is in my prayers
I pray for justice.

Mommy lessons

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A week or so ago a small, very lovable person threw a heavy object at my face. This little person was not angry but the object hurt nonetheless–I had a cut lip for a week.

I kept thinking about how important it is to talk about the things babies can do without any malice–break stuff, cause accidents.

They are adorable creatures but they get tired, hungry, sick, teethe, or just throw stuff.

As parents it is so important for us to remember that we can live without stuff, buy more eggs, our lips will heal and naptimes help us all–but we must protect our little ones.

So remember–

If you get tired, angry or frustrated get help or take a break
but never, never hurt the baby.

Ah! The lake!

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Mark 2:13-17 (NIV)
Once again Jesus went out beside the lake. A large crowd came to him, and he began to teach them. [14] As he walked along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector’s booth. “Follow me,” Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him. [15] While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. [16] When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” [17] On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

I like Jesus. I known he is

not a tame lion

as CS Lewis would say, but I trust his personality. I draw comfort from his anger and his grief, his compassion and his sense of humor. The best way to see Matthew is as a money launderer or an IRS auditor. Maybe an unscrupulous politician. He had sold out for cold cash. All these people Jesus was hanging out with were bad guys. Why would God hang out with the bad guys?

He answers the question with an incisive elegance: the sick need a doctor, the sinner needs a savior.

Good news for me, I am a dying mess, a real disaster. So grateful he is willing to hang with me.

Not just with…for.

The cowboy and the judge

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Mark 2:1-12 (NIV)
A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. [2] They gathered in such large numbers that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. [3] Some men came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. [4] Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on. [5] When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” [6] Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, [7] “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” [8] Immediately Jesus knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he said to them, “Why are you thinking these things? [9] Which is easier: to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’? [10] But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the man, [11] “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” [12] He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!”

I love this story and I especially love the way it is portrayed in the movie The Miracle Maker, so I have been somewhat puzzled by why I could not finish this story. I have talked about it numerous times. It is not that complicated.

This is a story about waiting with or without hope. It is a story about faith and urgency. It is a story about love, value and forgiveness. And it is a story about willfully refusing to see.

Someone I love has a prominent tattoo on his chest. He likes to go shirtless a lot so it is easy to see. It says,

only God can judge me

His tattoo is true, but somehow incomplete. What it is missing is any understanding of love, fear, and holiness.

Love carries the man to Jesus
Love pushes through the crowd
Love punches through the roof
Love lowers the mat
Love forgives the man his sins
Love heals the man on the mat
Love never fails
But…
When love shows his power and his judgment.
You better duck.

Because the guy who crushed the gates of hell and death for us?
He don’t play, cowboy, he sure don’t play.

The cool mom’s club

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Someone I have never met before came up to me today and said, you must be the cool mom.

A wonderful compliment, undeserved…

When she said it I thought several things at once–
I want to get to know this lady better.

I wonder if she would still think I was cool if she knew my whole awful story?

And maniacal laugh…I am about to go make a fool of myself on a dock for 2 hours. I will not look cool.

But there is something cool in not accepting failure and there is something cool in public humiliation for a good reason.

Perseverance is cool. Not giving up is cool.

Most of the time it is lonely and many times the stakes are way too high, so I am grateful for my patient community.

One day I may master things even harder than launching off a dock at 20 mph.

That will be cool, and I will know exactly who to thank.

Breaking and entering!!!

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Remember I left this story at trespassing.. Let’s see what happens next…

Mark 2:3-4 (NIV)
Some men came, bringing to him a paralytic, carried by four of them. [4] Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through it, lowered the mat the paralyzed man was lying on.

Huh…. Breaking and entering?!! Destruction of property?!? This story gets more violent and illegal by the minute.

And what does Jesus do? More calls to the po-po? Vigilante justice?

Nope…

Mark 2:5 (NIV)
When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

I once preached a sermon on this passage. My daughter’s favorite part was when I said that we neglect the violent, intrusive nature of what the men did breaking through the roof of the house

…but it turns out ok because luckily, there was a carpenter in it.

I can obsess over the damage we fallen, messy humans can unleash on each other. The truth is Jesus: fixer, healer, resurrectionist.

He rises from hell to save us.
The messy rest is a cakewalk for him.
Roof repair and all.

Entertaining Angels

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The sheer mind-bending stress of being your foster mom led to iconic images lodged in my head–

You two sitting across the table from me the first day I met you. Sizing me up over peanut butter sandwiches.

You eyeing your brother suspiciously. A lot.

You waking up one night when he woke up screaming (night terrrors) and looking at him with sleepy exasperation and then flopping down in relief when I scooped him up and took him to another room to ride out the storm–your body language was not my problem, back to sleep.

One night when you were ready for bed in your winter jammies. Your hair curly and adorable. I tickled you and you giggled, for a rare moment of laughter and peace.

You can be angry at me all you want. But you can’t stop love.

Your other mom