The cool mom’s club

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!!!

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

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

Rabbi

Let’s say you want to learn to swim. You would need water, a bathing suit, and a teacher. And while the bathing suit might be optional, the teacher knowing how to
1. Swim
2. Teach
Would not

The other day I heard a very smart man complaining that his students lacked motivation. I thought, that is your job, make it fun.

Yesterday I saw a man teach a kid to do something nuanced and physically challenging. He is good at what he does, both doing and teaching.

I say all this because at the heart of the Jesus question is–
Can he really do what he teaches?
Can he teach me to do it?

Most of us think the gospel is words. We are wrong. The gospel is the pop quiz, the open book test.

The real thing?
Can you rise from the dead?
Can you love like Him?

Everything he says is just the instructional course. Everything he does is life everlasting.

You want a good teacher

Mark 1:21-22 (NIV)
They went to Capernaum, and when the Sabbath came, Jesus went into the synagogue and began to teach. [22] The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law.

This was a home church in a hometown. This crowd knew Jesus’ people. They were at church.

Then this guy comes in and starts talking and whatever it is that he says astounds people.

Let’s face it: most of us doze our way through church. How many sermons do you remember?

But Jesus is memorable and his preaching is different.. Like he knows what he is talking about. Because he does.

It is not hard to have authority when you are the author.

Jesus is the author and the finisher
The beginning and the end.

He is the Man.

And if you want an idea of what he said? Check out Matthew 5-7.

Blessed are those who listen to Jesus
For they shall hear the voice of God.

6 ways to help your child deal with Sandy Hook

listen.

Your child is smart and logical and already has pieces of information. Ask what he thinks and if he has questions.

be honest

Honesty demonstrates advocacy. It gives your child a strong sense of safety. If you lie or obscure the truth your child will not feel as stable. Truth telling does not have to be explicit or graphic, but it provides security.

admit when you don’t have answers

It is ok to say you dont know something. Find out if you can…

Enlist your community

Don’t be afraid to talk to a counselor, doctor, or trusted friends.

Practice safety

Give your child a chance to practice safety and self-defense. Hopefully she will never need these skills, but she will feel safer and more secure if she knows how to handle emergencies.

keep talking

Big traumas stay with us. Make time to check in on your child over days, weeks and years. This will allow him to process all the complicated emotions that travel with grief and uncertainty.

We should never make our children face the scary stuff alone.

Alone is the scariest of all

Sandy Hook

What if there was a list?
Of things no one wanted
The emptiness in a room
Blood memory
An unrelenting ache
my baby/my baby/my baby
Cannot be…

Worse than death
Stalking us at every turn
will we be
Safe?

No.
Not this time the children’s story
Man with a song leading us into the mountain
because our parents will not

What?
What is it we have not done?
Have not paid
To the coroner
To the cops
To the teeth of the dog
Who guards this hell we have

become
a houseful of memory
Of a Christmas most like the very first, second and third

When armed men broke through doors to wrest
Babes from nursing

Women who retain with their inmost thoughts each scrap of life
This child
This child
Don’t turn away.

A History of Violence

Yesterday an entire community woke up feeling safe and went to bed knowing the truth–no one is safe.

When we examine mass killings in America the list is chilling without the quotidian descriptions of domestic murders. When I read these articles on our history of violence what struck me was how incomplete the lists were.

I found several articles but none mentioned the tragedy at the Amish schoolhouse several years ago. The story of a methodical murder of children at school? Worth remembering.

And now we have Sandy Hook. I hate these stories. Most of us do. But what I find almost as disturbing is how quickly we go back to our Christmas parties and meme gathering.

Sometimes it does seem as though we are more pro-active about spreading urban legends than the truth.

I understand our desire to play the numbers–immediately after the tragedy I heard and read several reporters say–these events are rare.

I seem to have missed the bend in history when the NRA needed more public advocacy than school children.

We have a big problem. A deadly,escalating association between power and slaughter, the desire to exact a terrible revenge on children and the need for fame?

Can it be that our culture of entertainment violence has collided with real violence and a quest for celebrity? Do any of us dare face the possibility that this is the monster we have created? Nurtured? Then allowed to roam our schools, malls, concerts and cinemas while we idly click our remotes looking for something to distract us from a gathering darkness?

Wakeboard Challenge

Mom,

my young son says,

it is easy. Hold your feet like this, hold your rope like this and go!

.

He is right. His form looks good and he is instructing me mildly not because he knows how to wakeboard but because he has watched me face-plant dozens of times.

I can do the small pond ok, but I have a developing fear of the big cable.

The process goes like this:
Strap into your boots
Sit on bench
Grab rope/handle
Watch as a cable hitch traveling at 20 miles an hour zipping toward the rope you have in your hands

The advice is good:
Flex on 3
Watch the rope not your legs
Pretend you are jumping off a bar stool (going 20 miles per hour)
Keep your legs slightly bent, also flexed
Arms and handle at your hip
Hold on tight.

I have gotten off the dock a half a dozen times or so.
When I do if is wonderful–scary, not in my control. Wonderful.

But my fear of the launch process is getting to me. I have to do it enough that I am as comfortable hurtling forward at 20 miles per hour as I am brushing my teeth or riding a bike.

The process requires humility and commitment. And the consistent intellectual decision not to quit. I have to fear failure more than getting pulled across water at 20 miles an hour.

Forgive me if it all reminds me of Jesus.

Telephone Call

Um, so you are pregnant?

Yes.

We are worried about you-about the baby.

Why?

Well, no job, no church, your boyfriend does not want to marry you?
We need money!!! Mom should get dad to send money. They are so judgmental. If they wanted to help they would send us money.

Mom is worried you will do something stupid…to the baby.

What?!

You know, like putting your cat in the fridge?

The cat is fine. The cat wanted to be in the refrigerator.

Promise me you will not put the baby in the fridge. Or the washing machine or dryer. No appliances. babies do not belong in appliances.