Great Expectations

Elizabeth has recently learned how to button and unbutton her clothes by herself. Last week, we were in a Mexican restaurant, and she needed to use the restroom so I took her. I stood and watched in amazement as she fiddled with the button on her shorts until it finally released, did her thing on the potty, carefully got herself dressed again and all buttoned up, and washed and dried her hands. All by herself. The only thing she needed me for was to open the heavy door.

Feeling kind of nostalgic, I looked her in the eye and asked, "Elizabeth, why are you growing up so quickly?" To which she replied - in a sort of pastoral care tone of voice - "Mom, I have to grow up so I can be a fire fighter."

Ah, yes, my child. As much as my heart sometimes aches when I'm forced to acknowledge the constant passage of time, you do have to grow up. I suspect that your vocational aspirations will change a hundred times over your lifetime, but regardless of where they settle, you do have great things to be for yourself and for the world. And that necessarily requires you becoming increasingly independent. Increasingly independent from me. I marvel at how, just three short years ago, you and I were one. You needed me for everything. How things have already changed so much.

I was retelling this story yesterday at a pastor's retreat, and one gentleman reminded me that Elizabeth's response was probably very similar to what Jesus' would have been, had Mary asked him the same question. "But Mom, I have to grow up so I can do the important work of God."

Regardless of what's to come, she already doing the work of God. Every day. In bits of wisdom like this, and in so many other ways, she is bringing about the realm of God in this world. And, I, like Mary, ponder these things in my heart.

"Anything Worth Doing...

...is worth working for." - My Mama

I can't tell you how many times I heard this phrase growing up. When things would get tough, I could always count on my mom to faithfully recite it to me, reminding me that, "if it were easy, anyone could do it" (another one of her phrases).

And I believe these things are true. Not that some "easy" tasks aren't necessary, and therefore should be undertaken with devotion and commitment, but more that things that are difficult shouldn't be cast aside just because they take a little work.

But one facet of this phrase that we never really explored growing up is, is everything that is difficult really worth doing? What about things that consume us, take up an immense amount of time and energy, but - in the end - really aren't that important? And as I grow older and older, and time seems to be more and more in short supply, these are the questions I find myself pondering more and more.

For example, right now, as part of my pastoral appointment, I (ahem) get to preach every Sunday. And I will confess that this post is being written as part of my sermon preparation procrastination ritual. There are times...most every Sunday, to be honest, that I feel that my task is an awesome one (in the literal sense of the word). That, to be able to approach the Scriptures during the week on behalf of the congregation, pray for a word of good news, and deliver it artfully is a task that should not be taken lightly and a task that I am proud and honored to call mine.

But, the path to get there is not always an easy one. In fact, its sometime a burdening one. There's always a sermon to be preparing. Its like laundry or dishes...the task is never finished. As one of my professors jokes, "Sunday comes with amazing regularity". And, often times, during my sermon preparation, I wonder if its really worth it all. I know that the words that come out of my mouth on Sunday mornings are meaningful to at least a few in my congregation...the tell me so. But do they make a difference? In their private lives, in the life of the community...does what I do really matter? Is it really worth doing?

I think this is probably a question that I will revisit time and time again throughout my ministry. Maybe even weekly or daily. And while it causes me some angst, its probably a good question to ask, lest we get in a rut of doing things just because we've always done them.

But, in my case, I'll never be able to fully answer that question. The work of God comes slowly...imperceptibly at times. I have to trust that its being done, even when I can't see it or feel it. But there are little glimpses of hope along the way, like road reflectors that assure you you're still on the right path in the middle of the dark night. And, for right now, I can hang my hat on two things:

(1) I know that ministry is happening through the fact that I take the time to faithfully prepare my sermons. My congregations appreciates the preparation. Its not something they've always had, and it shows them I care about them and our church.

(2) The preparation feeds and forms me. I don't always feel it, but one of the biggest reasons that I got into the ministry is because its awesome to be paid to spend your days caring about people and reading and thinking and writing. If nothing else, I know that the time I put into grappling with the text shapes and molds me.

So, for now, that has to be enough. My work ethic and sense of commitment lead me to work hard at my ministerial tasks, and my prayer is that I will be continue to be wise enough to be able to see that they are worth doing.

And, now, back to getting this sermon on paper...

Between Great and Perfect

I had coffee last night with a dear friend. As all women do, I think, when they finally have a few minutes to get away from the grind of daily life and kids and family and housework, we spent much of the evening talking about...our children.

Seems kind of counter-intuitive, but that's what we do with our time "away".

Anyhow, I believe that Charlotte is likely our last child. My husband is pretty set on that, and I think I know in my heart that two children is our family's capacity. But there's that part of a women that always wants another baby. And maybe, for me, its not even so much about wanting another baby, but more about not wanting to close the childbearing chapter in my book of life and move on to the next chapter. Regardless, I've been very mindful of the fact that this could be my last "everything" as Charlotte has grown (too fast!) over the past six months, trying to savor and ponder every moment.

And, even as I'm growing into the reality that we're probably done having children, there's still a part of me that grieves.

But my dear friend told me of a conversation she had recently had with her apparently very wise sister-in-law, who had been struggling with wanting another child for quite a while. She finally came to the realization that we have an idea in our head of what the "perfect family" looks like. And this elusive perfection is something that we can never attain, regardless of how many children or how much money or how much time we have. She confessed that she had spent many years believing that if they could just have that one other child, that their family would be "perfect".

But, then...somehow, her mindset began to shift. Instead of focusing on the unattainable "perfect", she began to be able to see the already-present "great". She began to see that what she already had was wonderful, precious, a blessing...and complete.

The difference between great and perfect is so tiny, but if we spend our time focusing on the perfect that will never be, we miss the great that is right in front of (and in!) us.

This is good stuff. Really good. And I believe with all my heart that when we quit pining for more - the unattainable perfect, but begin to see the great that is already present in life, well, in some paradoxical way, it actually makes this life perfect.