When I was a young mom, one of favorite mantras was “It’s good enough.” Making the school lunches for the kids, I’d wonder if that little bag of gummy fruit snacks could pass as a fruit serving. Hmm. I don’t have any fruit, so you know what? It’s good enough.

The one-ply toilet paper is way cheaper than the name brand. Sold. Good enough.

My morning bed-head looked like a rats nest and a tumbleweed had a love child. Grabbing a rubber band for a quick pony tail, I’d check the mirror and think, “Good enough.”

My two-year-old dresses herself, deciding to go through her day in size eighteen month sweatpants and a clashing shirt (worn backwards for just a touch of toddler flair). Buckling her into the car seat for a trip to Grandma’s I sigh… Oh well, it’s good enough.

Oh sure, I’d dream of perfection. Things like two-ply toilet paper, soft beachy waves and a child who looked like she stepped out of a Baby Gap ad. But now that I have the benefit of some years and a little more wisdom, I have something to say to my younger self.

“You know what? Every time you consoled yourself with saying ‘It’s good enough’, you were wrong. It wasn’t just good enough. What you did? It was great.”

I can’t tell you how many times I have giggled my way through Target or the grocery store, checking out the get-ups on the toddler to eight-year-old set. Oh my Lord, is it entertaining. Cowboy boots and feather boas. Ninja turtles and light sabers. And of course the classic that never gets old, the little one who dressed ‘all by myself’ today, accompanied by the mom who is brave enough to just let it fly. Those moms made a loving choice to support their independent children.

I always told my husband in our early married days that I’d know when we’d arrived at financial stability. On that happy day, we’d be able to ditch the generic toilet paper (yes Virginia, there was such a thing as ‘generic toilet paper’) for Charmin, and we’d stop buying so many vegetables in a can.

That day did eventually come and it was a definite milestone. But it didn’t make our choices before that any better than the the new ones. We always made loving choices, and that’s what made it perfect.

Today, when I look at my life and the choices I make, I can feel like I did when I was raising my children. Well…They’re good enough. Certainly not great.

When I feel like that, I’ll look back on my younger days, when chaos ran the house, and my checkbook was lean. I didn’t see it then, but life was great. Those memories help me to understand that ‘great’ is never found in perfection. Great is discovered in all the parents and grandparents who make the best decisions they can everyday.

The smiles that result from the love in those choices change everything from ‘good enough’ to great.

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I am a big fan of all things heavenly, and that includes the stars, planets, comets and harvest moons. There’s just something powerful about gazing at a starry sky. It leads me so easily to think about how beautiful and inspiring our Creator and his creation truly is.

Where I live, light pollution is a definite reality. Meteor showers come, but I’ve never seen one. Not that I haven’t tried. I’ve set my alarm for three a.m., and trudged to the back yard wrapped in a blanket to await the show. But it never comes.

It’s exciting to visit my sister in Colorado, or my daughter who lives in a rural area. The night skies there are sprinkled thickly with stars. I can see planets too, and full constellations. But the best thing to see is a comet, following its path as it streaks across the sky trailing that tail of sparks.

Scientists refer to comets in less glowing terms. They call them “dirty snowballs” or “snowy dirtballs.” Um…really? Comets are made of dust, ice, carbon dioxide, ammonia and a host of other elements. These uninspiring clumps of rock and dust are actually the size of a small town.

 

When a comet’s orbit brings it close to the sun, it heats up and spews dust and gases into a giant glowing head larger than most planets.  nasa.gov/comets

In other words, these very plain, lackluster clumps of dirt only become an inspiring light in the sky when it’s heated by the sun. Only when it comes in contact with the sun’s energy will it be transformed to light and flame and movement.

Comets are a perfect metaphor for spiritual life.

Our bodies are made up of everyday elements too. Humans are mostly oxygen, carbon and hydrogen. In spite of our rather plain ingredients, we are priceless works of art. We all are capable of living on this earth, and using our unique gifts to benefit our corners of the world. We may not attract much attention, but we are part of God’s creation, giving us the dignity of belonging to him and to all created things.

We can go through life that way, but, we can also choose to be so much more than that.

If we make the decision to come close to our Creator, establishing a relationship with him, the power God gives in his grace changes everything. Like the energy of the sun, grace transforms and empowers, allowing us to shine in his light. No longer living only in the physical, we are activated in a spiritual life. We become a bright, attractive and inspiring child of God. We have the power to light up the world around us.

Not all comets get close enough to the sun to transform. But everyone on earth has the choice to approach God to be changed, to never be the same.

So, how about you? Are you ready to light up your world? I am. I want to be God’s comet.

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Most of us try to create a rhythm in our lives. Each day has it’s own plans, agendas and meal menu. Having a reliable plan helps us to stay on-track and moving forward.

Monday is for shopping. Tuesday is Bible Study. Wednesday is a day off. Thursday is Volunteer Day. Well, you get the idea.

We are actually in tune with God when we create our rhythms, he created the seasons to come in a rhythm too. The spring season’s milder temperatures warm up the earth, melting the snow and ice. Summer brings bright sunshine, heat and growing gardens. Fall winds cool us, while leaves turn from green to brown.

And winter? Brr! Snow, ice, whipping winds and bulky clothing are the hallmarks of this season. When I think of winter, I think cold. All the time.

So imagine my complete surprise last weekend. A miracle came to northern Illinois. The high temperature on Saturday was 70 degrees. I mean, that’s crazy talk, it’s February!

My husband and I put in hours cleaning up our garden. We filled garbage cans with piles of leaves and with wet-paper reeds from last years tiger lilies. The rose bushes got a trim and the cement walkway in front of the plants is now in view.

I went for a walk without a coat, meeting neighbors on my way. As we chatted, young moms and dads pushed strollers with strapped-in toddlers, headed for the park.

Normally, February 18th looks more like a gray still-life painting. The average temperature in this short month is 33 degrees, with a total monthly snowfall of 8 inches. We usually have cloudy skies for days. Snow and icy winds. Heavy sweaters and scarves. Balky car engines. Balky groundhogs too.

It seems that the usual rhythm of the winter season skipped a beat somewhere.

I think God wanted to drop a little gift in our laps. Yes, he created the flow of the seasons, and saw that it was good. But that doesn’t mean he can’t create some room for change now and again. And what a beautiful change we experienced in the middle of the winter season.

So what about our own plans and rhythms? We create them to fit our lives, and they are good. But maybe we should start making our lists with a little room too. After all, God might choose the day we’re planning to drop another gift in our laps.

Maybe God is planning a little surprise and he can’t wait to delight you. A neighbor might call and need you. You might need to drop everything because a family member is in town, or a dear friend knocks at your door.

I’m back to heavier coats and thicker sweaters now, but the memory of last week still makes me smile. I can’t wait to see what God does in my life this week. Of course, I’ve made my plans, but they are flexible. So go ahead Father, and surprise me. Whatever you bring, I know I’ll be delighted.

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Leaving Sunday services each week, my mom would often lament that it seemed as though Christian charity was abandoned at the church exit.

Prayer and praise resounded loudly inside the church, but the parking lot was another story. Starting up their engines, each driver transformed from prayer warrior to Mario Andretti, muscling their cars to the front of the line to leave the church grounds.

My faith community takes pride in it’s consistent liturgy. Oh sure, there have been some word changes now and again, and updating of worship, I suppose everyone’s church has done that. But no matter where you go in this world, the community prayer is in the same form. The only thing that changes is the language spoken from country to country.

There’s a great comfort in ritual liturgy. It allows the worshipper to relax into the familiar rhythms of prayer, praise, thanks, profession of faith and Scripture instruction. Music and song lift the soul as we all serenade the Lord with joy.

When the service is over, we have a wonderful space to greet each other. We catch up, offer our promises of support and prayer, and celebrate the milestones achieved in the goodness of God’s grace. Then…it’s on to our separate lives.

The sharp contrast between the church community inside the walls, and the everyday community outside them, often comes into focus as fast as it takes to get to the car in the parking lot. So I wonder.

Is my definition of liturgy too rigid and small?

I agree with my mom. It sure seems like the recent prayer, praise and thanks somehow comes to a screeching halt after leaving the church building.

The ritual praise and song is meant to lift our souls and prepare us for the week ahead. Grace and joy are gifted to fill our spiritual bank accounts…but is that where it all ends?

I don’t think so. I don’t think Jesus ever meant for us to confine our praise and prayer to church, or even to ourselves. I believe he is active in every moment of our day, encouraging us to participate in the Liturgy of Life. We are constantly being joyfully invited to converse with the Lord and celebrate God’s presence in our world and neighbor.

Our work, our play, our acts of love can all be extensions of the grace-filled prayer we experience on Sunday. And because we do these things to praise, thank and honor the Father, our lives can be transformed. Each encounter with the Father holds the potential to take my life of ‘ordinary’ and make it extraordinary…if I decide to participate.

Life becomes a beautiful, life-giving liturgy.

Every time I reach my car after Sunday services, I think of my mom’s lament. That memory always reminds me that my prayer and praise can’t stay in the four walls of a church building. It must become a living thing, employed every day of the week, witnessing that Christ is real, alive and working in this world.

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One activity my children always enjoyed was the rare, but always exciting, trip to the car wash.

As a young mom, backing the car out of the garage and letting my two littles help me hose-wash the car was a fun summer activity. But every now and then, the family wagon (yes, station wagon) needed a proper bath, so it was off to the local gas station.

I’d pull up in front of the entrance to adventure, and we’d be greeted by those huge dangling plastic strips that announced that the ride was about to begin. I’d call out, “Are all the windows closed?”, even though I knew they already were. The question really served to grab the attention of my riders, to alert them that the beginning of our adventure was near.

I’d line the left tire up to the track, while neon signs reminded me to put the car in neutral, take my foot off the pedals, and for Pete’s Sake, don’t steer! (Okay…I might have added a little to that last instruction.)

Feeling the first quick jerk, we were off into a loud and foreign land. Water shot from every direction, and as if by magic, soap splattered against the windows like paintballs. Each soap bomb elicited giggles from the backseat.

The real vocal fireworks started when the heavy strips, draped like a theater curtain, started jerking and dancing our way. “It’s the octopus!” they’d scream. Laughter ringing in my ears, we watched the felt spaghetti automatically slosh and wipe away the soap from the car.

A final spray on the car meant – the wind tunnel! Jet propelled streams of air buffeted and rocked the car, blowing water off the car.

I have to admit I liked our trips to the automatic car wash too. It was fun. And to have that fun, I didn’t have to do anything. I didn’t have to steer, accelerate or brake. As a matter of fact, if I tried to drive, it would be a very dangerous trip. Part of the enjoyment of the whole thing was giving up control. Just put the car in neutral, sit back, and for Pete’s Sake, don’t try to steer.

Most of us really like steering. We like having input, being in charge and making choices about our time. But…

I don’t know about you, but this whole control thing gets pretty tiring. Back then, if I heard “What are we doing today?” one more time, I might have to clap my hands over my ears and start singing “Help”. Being in charge absolutely has it’s positives, but it has to be balanced with free time – play time – rest time.

When you start to feel overwhelmed or pressured, maybe it’s God’s way of saying “Take your foot off the pedals.” Your soul is calling out for peace.

How about a walk in the woods? A bike ride. Call a friend. Bake some cookies.

Slip your gearshift in neutral, and take your feet off the pedals. Unplug and enjoy the ride…

And for Pete’s Sake, don’t try to steer.

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I was watching TV with my husband one night – well – watching with one eye, trying to work a crossword puzzle with the other, when I heard one of the characters from the show say, “He’s your bleacher person.”

My head snapped up and I abandoned my crossword. That term, ‘bleacher person’ intrigued me. The actor went on to explain that everyone needs people in their lives who support and cheer them on. They are the people you can count on to show up for you rain or shine. They’re your biggest fans.

They’re your bleacher team.

Isn’t that a beautiful way to describe the members of your fan club? And it’s a great visual too. While we’re out there working hard on the field of life, we have true supporters in the seats who cheer, wave banners and make sure we know we’re the greatest ever.

Maybe you’ve never thought about members of your family, your friends or you job partners that way. Well, maybe not all of them are true bleacher people for you. But some of them are.

Who are your biggest fans?

I’d have to include my mom on my list, and here’s one reason why.

She got all of her eight children involved in competitive swimming at a young age. I think I was five years old when I started belly-flopping into the water, racing the width of the pool. I kept on swimming, year round, until I was nineteen. (I had to leave my college campus a a junior to live in a nurses dorm in Rochester, Minnesota. No pool there!)

But my mom didn’t just drop us off at meets and go on her way. She stayed for every single one we were in. Sometimes, she’d film us for home movies with the old Super 8 movie camera. Maybe she’d announce at home meets, or be a lane timer. But mostly, she sat on the sidelines, recording our times and cheering for us from starting block to finish.

I remember one meet on a chilly, rainy June morning. My mom left the pool to race over to my Nana’s house. She picked up dry sweatshirts and towels for us, and I can still remember the warmth I felt, pulling that old, outsized shirt over my head.

Isn’t that just what bleacher people do? They support and encourage us to keep going, especially when the going gets tough. I know I would have been completely miserable without her support and presence that day.

We all need a bleacher team. But you know what else we need? We need to be a part of someone’s fan section too.

So maybe another good question would be, “Who do you cheer on?” Who do you show up for, and wave that banner?

I know that you are an important source of support for many in your life. So don’t forget to be their cheerleader. They need you in order to keep working on the field of life.

Just like you need them.

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“Time for a heat treatment!” My physical therapist is finally letting me loose from her torture, and now the payoff is near.

I had a little meeting with her before my session, telling her that I didn’t think I was making much progress. She responded by digging her elbow to my back with the gusto of a merciless Norwegian masseuse. But a hot pack? Now you’re talking.

“Wait, wait!” Uh oh. My little dream of heat was dying. “Let’s try ice. You’ve been so sore, I think ice is better.”

Ice? Seriously? It’s twenty-four degrees outside with wind chills approaching zero. My muscles feel like they were rammed through a pasta press, and your best idea is ice?

Well, she’s the one with the degree, so I said “Sure. Let’s do it.” Oy. So there I was, lying on my stomach with huge bags of ice on my back, while dreams of sunny beaches and baking sunshine played in my head. It helped a little. Finally, ten years minutes later, time was up and so was I, ready to call it a day.

As I drove home, blasting the car heater, I marveled at how completely wrong my expectations were. I figured my ‘Come to Jesus’ moment with the therapist would result in easing up on my exercises. After all, they didn’t seem to help much. But oh no, instead, this woman decided to go postal on me, smashing my unsuspecting body to a pulp. So…that was unexpected.

I also thought I’d be soothed by a nice big heating pad after the whole ordeal. Ha! Ice for you my friend.

What the heck is going on here?

Isn’t that just the way life goes? You think you know exactly what will be good for you, what will help. A raise. A romance. A retreat from a relationship. But then somehow it all goes sideways. You get fired, you break up, you’re cornered into saving your friendship.

It’s all so confusing. What is going on here? Well, even though it sounds strange, God is going on here.

While we only see the right now, God sees years and years into the future. He knows we see through limited eyes, but that won’t stop him from allowing what’s best. Even when best looks like worst.

So what can we expect?

Have you ever gotten a freezing ice pack instead of a nice hot water bottle?  Does it ever look like God gave you a situation you’d rather give back because it’s not what you wanted or expected? Maybe it seems like God’s got it in for you, making life harder than it has to be.

But our loving Father isn’t out to get you, he just sees further into the future than you can. He knows what those challenges will do for you, creating in you a stronger, more empathetic servant.

I know God’s got a beautiful plan just for you. He’s got one for me too. And I am confident that someday, we’ll understand how all those ice packs healed us.

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For a few years now, I’ve chosen a word to guide me as I begin a new year. Sometimes the word comes easily, sometimes I struggle for weeks, searching for a word or concept that will inspire me.

My word for 2016 was ‘discover’, and let me tell you, it was a doozy. Last year was a challenge from the get-go, and discovering the meaning and blessing in all of it was often a huge challenge. We had two car accidents, managed to stay married through a two-month kitchen renovation, several rounds of physical therapy for various ailments, and as you might already know, my father died.

Discover? Oh yeah, I discovered all right. I discovered my vast need for patience. I discovered that loss teaches many lessons, including the value and pain of grief, and the joy of realizing that my family is special and precious (special shout-out to my sisters Kitty, Mary and Liz). And not least, the lesson that life goes on even though our loved ones may not.

I think I’ll always keep ‘discover’ with me. It’s been such a big part of the past 365 days, it’s become a good friend.

But now I look to 2017, just a few weeks old, and I wonder. What word does God want to give me as I travel in this precious new year? Each day is a gift, every minute a love offering from the Creator to his children. How do I make the most of it all?

And then it comes to me. My new word for 2017? “Now.”

The key to living a life that is both physically and spiritually powerful is living in the present. Right here. Right now. The past happened before now, I can’t change it. The future is beyond now, draped in fog. I can’t begin to guess what’s in store.

But now? That’s where I’m living, and where God meets me. In every task, every joy, every challenge.

Living fully in the present won’t be an easy proposition. There have been plenty of times I’ve walked away from the pressing needs of the day. I’d much rather put that off until tomorrow. Or allow myself to get too busy, running myself ragged instead of giving myself the gift of slowing my day and my mind to pay attention to ‘now’.

The glory and joy and wonder of God, and his people, is here for me every minute of the day. If I don’t remain attentive to what’s happening, I’ll miss my opportunity to witness the Lord’s gifts and presence.

I’ll miss the opportunity to shine in his wonderful light.

Why should I settle for only a rare glimpse of that light, when there’s a flood of it just waiting to fill me…now?

This year, my hope is to live my life. Really experience it, staying awake to the gifts and grace of my every day, my every minute.

2017 has already begun. There’s no better time for me to start than…well… Now.

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I am very excited to kick off the new year as a guest on Karen Lange’s blog, Write Now, “exploring the adventurous writing life“.  I’ve been connected to Karen through our blogs for a long time, and have always appreciated her great writing and publishing advice, as well as her warm and supportive posts.

Karen also uses her website to host her series, ‘Meet the Blogger’. She presents an interview format for each featured guest, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know the new-to-me writers and bloggers.

And now, it’s my turn to chat with her! I hope you’ll take the time to hop over and read all about it.

You can visit me there by using this link: Meet the Blogger. I’m looking forward to seeing you there!

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“Mom, is Santa Claus real?”

Well, I said to myself, here it is. The moment I’ve been dreading since planting the Santa seed eight years ago. Must tread lightly…must tread lightly.

“What brought this up?” I asked, while washing the last of the dinner dishes in the sink.

“My friend at school told me that Santa is really parents. They put all the gifts under the tree.”

“Well, what do you think?” I didn’t ask the question as a delay tactic, I really wanted to know.

“I’m not sure. But…I think he’s right.”

Heavy sigh. “Okay son, let’s sit down.”

For the next thirty minutes, I explained that Santa Claus is based on St. Nicholas. He was a real person who lived in the 200’s. He was considered a great guy and loved to help the poor, so after he died, people started the tradition of giving gifts in his name. That led to the name Santa Claus. Yes, mom and dad follow that tradition too. PLEASE DON’T TELL YOUR YOUNGER SISTER.

Phew. Crisis averted.

The next day, he came home from school and cornered me in the living room. “Mom! Remember everything you told me about Santa? I don’t believe you. A guy at school said that Santa is for real, so he’s real.” He then strode triumphantly to the kitchen for a snack.

My feet were frozen to the carpet. What? He doesn’t believe me? Wow, here’s a ‘mom-moment’ if ever there was one. After that whole talk, all it took was another eight year old to easily knock down all I said like a tipsy wall of wooden blocks.

Unbelievable.

As I I look back on that exchange some twenty-five years ago, my take-away is a little different than it was then. Now, I admire my son for grabbing on to the truth he was raised in, and not giving in easily.

As adults, Christmas challenges our faith too, and not because we believe that Jesus came into the world, but because so many do not. Our culture both whispers and shouts something much different. We know that two thousand years ago, a baby was born to a couple who traveled from home to Bethlehem. This child, born into poverty, this Prince of Peace, came to save us all.

But most of the world sees Christmas as an extra day off, or a family tradition of gift giving. They think we’re simple and foolish to believe anything else.

My son held on to his faith in Santa even though someone he trusted told him it wasn’t exactly true. What a great witness to me today, as we all face a culture that doesn’t always support the faith we hold dear. Even though some say it’s not true, Our Savior is going to be born again in hearts on December 25th.

And no one will sway me from believing that.

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I’m going to take the rest of December off to get ready for Christ’s coming. I wish you all a wonderful, peaceful, faith-filled Christmas.

I’ll be on blog-break until January, when I’ll be back with my new word for the year 2017. See you then!

God bless!

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