Waiting.

Mark 5:21-29 (NIV)
When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake, a large crowd gathered around him while he was by the lake. [22] Then one of the synagogue rulers, named Jairus, came there. Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet [23] and pleaded earnestly with him, “My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live.” [24] So Jesus went with him. A large crowd followed and pressed around him. [25] And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. [26] She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. [27] When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, [28] because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.” [29] Immediately her bleeding stopped and she felt in her body that she was freed from her suffering.

Jesus from afar. He is not constrained by cement walls, ordinary time, peer pressure, or the weather.

This can be hard to understand in a crisis. We want instant relief from grief or illness, and sometimes we get pain, loneliness, waiting.

This story works best if you don’t know the ending. Jairus was desperate. We know he wouldn’t have risked himself if he had another option. It must have been excruciating to wait. You can almost see the words in a bubble–

c’mon, my daughter is dying!

But Jesus is in no hurry. In fact there is no mention of him ever hurrying. The waiting is part of the story….

For all of us.

Wow! You’ve Changed!

Mark 5:18-20 (NIV)
As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him. [19] Jesus did not let him, but said, “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” [20] So the man went away and began to tell in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him. And all the people were amazed.

I would have wanted to follow Jesus like a puppy dog. But Jesus tells the man to go home.

Think of 5 of the worst humans you know–personally or historically. Now imagine them come home smelling good and acting like Mother Teresa.

That is what God can do.

And it is indeed amazing.

Holy handbags, Robin!!!

Tonight I sang loud and off-key to God. There may have been some dancing around too. One of my children eyed me with a bit of alarm. Notable only because you would think they all would.

I also washed my purse today.

Not seeing the connection? Well, first let me explain that I am not a Gucci/baby Louie gal. My purses are cheap, washable, frequently seconded to me.

They are the receptacles of diapers (new), hair bands, gum (also new), keys, money, action figures, snacks, beverages, electronics, random papers.

Crumbs, a lot of crumbs…

I have been feeling itchy because I knew that my current purse avatar was the victim of a public bathroom floor incident that I will not shock you by explaining.

Just trust me: unhygienic.

So I feel good. Brownie crumbs evacuated, wallet transplanted. Purse clicking noisily in a midnight wash.

Cleaner.

I am aware that the God I trust and love is holy. Really clean.

I have a few kids who are well versed in superhero lore. So I was thinking about how a good comic book superhero needs an Achilles heel. And that led to thoughts of the only real superhero.

No Achilles heel–wait! There is a weakness. Not in him, us. We are his weakness. We are his mortal heel.

And he lets himself bleed out in holiness to bath us in his eternity.

That is clean. That is holy.

So I worship–messy and loud. Because he has rescued me. Once and for all eternity.

Father’s Day in the graveyard

This is one of my favorite stories.

I know too many people like this guy. In fact I know a couple who make him look like a boy scout.

Mark 5:1-5 (NIV)
They went across the lake to the region of the Gerasenes. [2] When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an evil spirit came from the tombs to meet him. [3] This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him any more, not even with a chain. [4] For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. [5] Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones.

Read his symptoms carefully–loud, violent, scary, self-harming. Just like the rest of us, this man has a story, and not a fun one. Abused and neglected? Maybe? Into violent games? Maybe? Dangerous to others? Definitely.

No hope. No national mental health initiatives to save him.

There are 2000 reasons why he has chains and lives in the graveyard.

Now imagine you find out he has a little baby with him out there…

Would you worry? Would you call for help? Send him cloth diapers? Try to intervene?

What would you do for the child?

Dear Sunshine,

I went walking today. It reminded me of the years I spent in the woods with your mama. She howled and then your uncle howled. Then she howled again. Fun times…

They just cried a lot. Now I understand it better. Then I just aimed to outlive it. Now there is you. Your Daddy looks so happy, so proud and a bit disheveled but I hope he is crazy about you. I hope the whole world is crazy about you all the time.

I have been praying for you. That won’t stop. Nor will it be the first time I have prayed desperately for a baby I love.

Hold tight to God’s hand.

Nailla Found

Nailla Johnson was found–alive, hiding under a bleacher in the January cold.

More than anything I am grateful she is alive.

But I am not above raising strong questions about child safety at school. Everyday millions of Americans send their children to school assuming that their children will be safe.

Not a safe assumption anymore.

What will you do about it?

Losing Sleep

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…

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

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.

Mommy lessons

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.