In which I am quieted

I went for a walk at lunch yesterday. I often stop by Christ Church Cathedral in downtown Vancouver for Eucharist on Thursdays. But it was Wednesday and I was very early so I thought I'd just pop in for a minute and sit.

I walked up Burrard, hurrying through the crowds of business suits, sidestepping buskers. The day was warm and bright, busy and capable. I was surrounded by the constant hum of conversation, the feeling of "go go go go go" on a city sidewalk. I cut from the crowd at the corner of Georgia to climb the steps of the church and walked through the heavy doors.

It's funny how you can walk between worlds without much work. From the clanging and cars, the voices and the bustle, the modernity and money to the nave of an old cathedral. This silence and holiness, this quiet, existing right at the same place if one only enters. And through the doors?

Silence. The weight of holiness and prayer. The smell of candles, old wooden pews, lanterns, musty paper. Diffused light coming through hundred year old stained glass windows.

I exhaled when I walked through the doors, unaware I'd even been holding my breath.

I like to be in old cathedrals by myself. I wandered over to the side chapel, to pray. Despite my enormous belly and ungainly posture, I managed to kneel down on the kneelers in front of the altar. I had my iPod on from being outside and was listening to some quiet music. I kneeled there and raised my eyes to the altar. There was a prayer book for people to write down prayer requests for evening prayers and candles that could be lit to symbolize one's own prayers.

After reading "The Ragamuffin Gospel", I've had a greater yearning than ever to truly know God. To know in my deepest self in a deeper way.... what it is to live like you are loved? To no longer feel this need to strive or prove anything, to just rest in the unforced rhythm of the grace of God?

And then the oddest thing happened.

I started to cry. I don't know what it was. It was all so wonderful and beautiful and quiet.

There was space for me here and I felt air filling my lungs, arms wrapping around me and a tremendous sense of rest come to me.

I felt overwhelmed by love, overwhelmed by the love of God, surrounded and enveloped. I was completely unprepared for such an experience. After all, I was just going to grab a few minutes for prayer in the middle of the day and now I felt almost nailed to my kneeler. The song that came on right at that moment? Prodigal by Michael Gungor (who was an acquaintance in university). Here are the lyrics:

Prodigal
Words and music by Michael Gungor and Michael Rossback

I’ve tasted Your glory and I left it there.
Your poured out Your Spirit and I didn’t care.
Still you loved me

I’ve lived for myself with nobody to blame.
I took what You gave me and squandered Your grace.
Still You loved me.
Nothing compares to what You’ve done for me
Nothing compares to what You’ve done for me.

I could live for the broken and share in their pain.
I could die like a martyr or live like a saint just to love You.
I could sing like the angels and gather Your praise:
Be blessed beyond measure and give it away just to love You.
Still nothing compares to what You’ve done for me.
Nothing compares to what You’ve done for me.

My heart has been broken; I’ve laid out my shame.
Because of Your mercy,
All I can say is I love You.
So I’ll tell of Your story
I’ll carry Your name
I’ll live for Your glory Lord,
I’ll share in Your pain just to love You.
Nothing compares to what You’ve done for me.
Nothing compares to what You’ve done for me.
Nothing compares to what You’ve done for me.

Nothing can separate us
Nothing can separate us
Not death or life
Or depth or height
Or unseen power
Now or ever!

I'm sure it's not the first time they've had some poor pregnant charismatic girl, crying in the chapel, hands up in the air, in what appears to them to be complete silence. (Poor Anglicans. All us charismatics on the Canterbury trail now, cluttering up their cathedrals, praying in tongues and dancing.)

I lit a candle and returned to a pew. I took off my earphones and just basked in the silence. There was no one else in the church.

I didn't have any desire to pray for anything. I didn't want anything. I didn't need anything. I felt sufficient and whole. I just wanted to rest there, in that Presence for a while longer.

A line of Scripture that I've been memorizing lately rose up in my heart: He will quiet you with His love. And it made sense to me. I felt...quieted. I felt that love, that peace and suddenly everything else seemed to fade in importance. It seemed funny to me that everything seemed quieter - my failures or worries seemed quieted, even my victories seemed quieted. There was just Love there. I felt like a child in that space between awake-and-asleep, wrapped in the arms of their Father.

And I rested for just a while longer.

In which we are in Week 32

I plaintively asked my poor doctor on Tuesday if she was REALLY TRULY SURE that I'm not due for another 8 weeks. Because I think the baby is ready. Really. And maybe the dates are off? And maybe I'm really due next week? Maybe I'm already overdue? She just grinned and said "Remember that you have 9 pound babies? Yeah. You're not done baking yet. Maybe this is just a long one?"

I am now having to go to the doctor (and get weighed) every two weeks now. Then every week. This time was actually a good appointment. For instance, I was weighed but by someone other than the 16 year old. I've only put on 18 pounds so far which is good. Baby is already head down and ready to go in position. I could have told her that...I've had feet in my ribs and hands in my spleen and a head on my bladder for two weeks now.

The baby's heartbeat was in the mid-130s again. Anne was always in the high 150s. I think I might do a baby pool again this time...everyone's got a theory as to the sex of the baby.

I've been experiencing more swelling this time around. My hands and feet are mildly swollen all the time.

My doctor did tell me that everything with your first happens earlier and easier with your second. So you feel movements earlier, the baby drops earlier, labour is shorter, you swell sooner etc.

And I said, FAN-TASTIC.

---

 

Your baby now weighs approximately 3.75 pounds/ 1.7 kilograms and is about 17 inches / 42 centimetres long from head to toe. Although his lungs won't be fully developed until just before birth, your little one is inhaling amniotic fluid to exercise his lungs and practise breathing.

Some babies have a head of hair already, others have only a few wisps. Thick hair at birth doesn't necessarily mean thick hair later on but children with fine hair in childhood usually have thinner hair in adulthood.

You're probably gaining a pound/ 450 grams a week, largely because your baby is likely to gain more than half his birthweight during the seven weeks before delivery. Make sure you are eating well in these last few weeks.

No wonder you're starting to feel huge — it's crowded in there! The growing pressure on your bladder may mean frequent trips to the washroom — which can make a good night's sleep difficult. You may be gaining around half a kilogram a week now and roughly half of that goes right to your baby. In fact, he'll gain a third to half of his birth weight during the next seven weeks, fattening up for survival outside the womb. Thanks to these fatty deposits, his skin is getting plumper and looking healthier.

In which I am a ragamuffin too

The secret of the mystery is, God is always greater.  No matter how great we think Him to be, His love is always greater.

I just finished "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning last night. It's funny how books come to us right when they are supposed to, isn't it? For instance, I've heard of this book for years - YEARS - and been told no less than 15 times that I 'need to read it'. But I just didn't. I saw it on a clearance table (who knows why? it's still very popular) and grabbed it. Then it sat on my shelf for 2 years. I finally picked it up last week, read the back and thought "Now."
I think "now" because it's been a bit of a journey to get to where I would even have ears to hear what was being written. But over the past few years, I've been learning about the resounding "YES!" of God towards humanity. Brian has done quite a bit of work on the theology of this and so our late-night conversations have involved a lot about the Fatherhood of God, the openness of embrace from the Spirit, and so on. Then I read "The Shack" which, in a fiction format, discusses much of the same. And I finally felt a small portion of my soul open up to the possibility of Abba's "furious love" towards me. And my own lack of ability. I've been stripping away the layers for years now, letting go of my need to be best and "all together", becoming okay with 'the time in-between' and generally undergoing a rather personal revolution.
"When I get honest, I admit I am a bundle of paradoxes.  I believe and I doubt, I hope and get discouraged, I love and I hate, I feel bad about feeling good, I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. I am trusting and suspicious. I am honest but still play games."
I used to feel like I couldn't let myself admit this. I had to somehow "be perfect" even when I was struggling. I had to "fake it til you make it" (baby).  And suddenly, God started to open my eyes. Almost three years later, I've realised that "grace proclaims the awesome truth that all is gift.  All that is good is ours, not by right, but by the sheer bounty of a gracious God....We have the power to believe where others deny, to hope where others despair, to love where others hurt.  This and so much more is sheer gift; it is not a reward for our faithfulness, our generous disposition or our heroic life of prayer.  Even our fidelity is a gift.  "If we but turn to God," said St. Augustine, "that itself is a gift of God." My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it."
Yes, it was time for this book. And it came right at the moment it needed to be in my life. My only beef is that I don't have anyone to really talk about it with!
Other favourite thoughts and passages:

• Living by the gospel of grace leads us into what Teilhard de Chardin called the divine milieu - a God-filled, Christ-soaked universe.  A world charged with the grandeur of God.
• "I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded. I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.  I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.  When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now get washed up for dinner."  There would have been more I love yous, more I'm sorrys, but most, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute, look at it and really see it, live it and never give it back. "(Erma Bombeck, "If I Had My Life to Live Over Again")
• The spirituality of wonder knows the world is charged with grace, that while sin and war, disease and death are terribly real, God's loving presence and power in our midst are even more real.
• "Dear Lord, grant me the grace of wonder.  Surprise me, amaze me, awe me in every crevice of Your universe.  Delight me to see how Your Christ plays in ten thousand places, lovely in limbs and lovely in eyes not His, to the Father through the features of men's faces.  Each day enrapture me with Your marvelous things without number.  I do not ask to see the reason for it all; I ask only to share in the wonder of it all." (Rabbi Joshua Abraham Heschel)
• Quite simply, our deep gratitude to Jesus Christ is manifested neither in being chaste, honest, sober and respectable, nor in churchgoing, Bible-toting and Psalm-singing but in our deep and delicate love for one another.
• What shall we say to such an outpouring of love? How shall we respond? First, the love of Christ and His gospel of grace calls for a personal, free and unconventional decision....Second our response to the love of Jesus demands trust.  Do we rely on our resume or the gospel of grace? How do we cope with failure?...For those who feel their lives are a grave disappointment to God, it requires enormous trust and reckless, raging confidence to accept that the love of Christ knows no shadow of alteration or change.  When Jesus said, "come to me, all you who labour and are heavy burdened," He assumed we would grow weary, discouraged and disheartened along the way. ...There is an essential connection between experiencing God, loving God and then trusting God.  You will only trust God as much as you love Him.  And you will love Him to the extent you have touched Him, rather that He has touched you....The third characteristic of our response to the gratuitous intervention of Jesus in our lives is heartfelt gratitude.
• I have fallen victim to what T.S. Eliot calls the greatest sin: to do the right thing for the wrong reason.
• How long will it be before we discover we cannot dazzle God with our accomplishments?
• The way we are with each other is the truest test of our faith.
• We accept grace in theory but deny it in practice.  Living by grace rather than law leads us out of the house of fear into the house of love.
• Freedom is the cornerstone of Christianity....Freedom in Christ produces a healthy independence from peer pressure, people-pleasing and the bondage of human respect.  The tyranny of public opinion can manipulate our lives.  What will the neighbours think? What will my friends think? The expectations of others can exert a subtle but controlling pressure on our behaviour.
• The call asks "Do you really accept the message that God is head over heels in love with you? I believe that this question is at the core of our ability to mature and grow spiritually.  If in our hearts, we really don't believe that God loves us as we are, if we are still tainted by the lie that we can do something to make God love us more, we are rejecting the message of the cross.
• Faith means you want God and want to want nothing else.
• I could more easily contain Niagara Falls in a teacup than I can comprehend the wild, uncontainable love of God.

In which Anne thinks Creflo Dollar is her grandpa

You know how you always hear that "kids are colour blind"? Meaning, they just see people, they don't see race. Sure, they might notice you're brown and I'm white (practically clear) but really, they just see people.

This has come home in a funny way these past few weeks. My Dad gave us Creflo Dollar's latest book as a gift. Anne didn't see him give it to us so she has no way of associating the book with my Dad.

And yet, every time she sees this book, she points to the picture of Creflo and identifies him as Papa.

Me: "No, Annie. That's Creflo."

Anne: (looking at me like I'm nuts) No. Papa. That's Papa.

Me: No. Creflo. CREF-LO.

Anne: Papa. It's Papa.

Me: No, honey. It's Creflo A. Dollar.

Anne: Papa. It's Papa.

Me: Doc-tor Cref-lo Aug-us-tus Dol-lar. NOT Papa.

Anne (now convinced that I am in fact nuts): It's Papa. I want Papa.

Now imagine that happening about 2-4 times a day, every day.

Do YOU think my Dad and Creflo look alike? Maybe it's the moustache? She has seen my Dad in suits quite often as she'll visit him at the office. I can see the resemblance...

 

 

 

In which the weekend is summarised

We had a busy and productive weekend. We're slowly migrating Anne's room to a shared room. Brian is putting in what is evidently called a "Closet System" which is just a fancy way of saying - drawers and shelves. Her closet was a bit of a wasteland so now we've got to get every square centimetre out of it as we don't have room for her dresser anymore. We are trying to fit a crib, a toddler bed, the rocking chair (imperative!) and change table/bookcase in this tiny room. So, while Brian was building that, Anne and I reorganized our two closets in our bedroom. One of them is our storage closet/Brian's closet and again...crammed wasteland while the other was my closet. We bought a couple of stackable boxes and got to work organizing and purging. I've been nesting lately so drawers have been getting cleaned out, closets organized etc. I happen to love organizing so it wasn't a big chore. It did take most of the day for us to get through it. Anne's closet still isn't finished as Brian is a bit of a perfectionist about these types of things: he wants everything to be secure enough that if an earthquake hit, it's not separating from the wall. So everything gets nailed and caulked and secured within an inch of its life. It should be finished in the next day or two and then I can start to put her room back together.

We still haven't put her into her little toddler bed. But I think it's time. She really wants to use the potty in the mornings and gets frustrated when we don't come get her in time. This morning, she took off her own pants and diaper, peed in the corner of the bed and then went and put her own pants back on all while I was in the shower. Time for some mobility, I think. I think she could probably be completely toilet-trained by now but we just haven't made that leap with her. Which makes me feel guilty. But what can you do.

Yesterday, we went to church. We have been visiting a lot of other churches this summer since Brian has been thinking about getting into talks with a couple of denominations. We wanted to check them out to see if it could be a fit. So it was nice to be back "home" at Coastal this weekend. It was a great message and we both got a lot out of it. Good to see friends and not feel like the newbie. Of course, Anne loves Sunday School. We went into the church and Anne saw a group of children; she crowed out "Hey, Kids! I wanna play!"

I also took some time to update a bunch of pictures on Facebook. It was a fun trip down memory lane. Of course, when I showed Bri, he got teary and kept muttering things about "kids growing up way too fast".

I actually drove to work this morning. First time in years! It only took 20 minutes so I might be doing this again. I drove today because I haven't slept well the past couple of nights and I've been rather tired. I just needed to take a break from public transit. Plus my feet and hands have been having some mild swelling lately so standing on the train for 30 minutes didn't sound too appealing (yes, I have to stand...people don't give up their seat even when you are 8 months pregnant and standing in front of them evidently). I had some swelling with Anne during the last 3 weeks but this just started this week and I still have 8 to go.

I have felt really busy lately. Really since we got back from holidays, it's felt like life has been at breakneck speed. I have about 3 good friends I've wanted to call for about 2 weeks and just haven't had time. I feel behind at work. I feel behind with my house. I feel pretty tired. Even after the weekend, we stayed home for most of it but still managed to feel really busy ... building and cleaning and organising closets, baking, going to playgrounds, visiting family, going to church, doing laundry...phew!

I read a really good book this week called "Late Nights on Air" by Elizabeth Hay. It was very beautiful and haunting. Couldn't put it down and loved the characters.

I'm finally reading "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning. And as everyone assured me, it is, indeed, rocking my world. I have had to have my pen at the ready, constantly marking passages and underlining sentences. I was thinking that this might be becoming my favourite Christian living book - ever. I'll let you know.

In which I ask you to decide which one is more embarrassing

I always feel torn when people ask you to tell embarrassing moments - not because I don't have one but because which one do I choose? I have at least managed to narrow it down to two.

Please vote in the comments on which one should be the Official Most Embarrassing Moment.

1. The "I Flashed My Breasts At 50 People" Moment. When I was 20, I was at a resident advisors training course early in the school year. As part of this intense training, we had physical exercise in the mornings. One morning, we had to do a full obstacle course in teams of four through a very deep creek bed. Brian and I had just started dating and I was anxious to appear "athletic" in front of him. As we gathered for the timed races, I decided I wanted to win. Our team went down the muddy river wall into the creek using a rope. While in the creek bed, we had to run through tires, swim through mud, wade through water on our stomachs, climb trees - you get the idea. There is a huge crowd around the edges of the creek, cheering. As I'm running, I suddenly realise that I am hearing my name - "SARAH! SARAH! SARAH!" - more than anything else. "Wow," I think to myself. "I must really be kicking butt!" So I proceeded to run even faster, jump even higher, push myself a little harder. We get to the very end of the race and the last item is to shimmy up a mud wall using only a rope. It dawns on me that they're not so much cheering my name as they are screaming it urgently. I look up the wall confusedly. All of the people yelling my name are now also shrieking "YOUR SHIRT! YOUR SHIRT! YOUR SHIRT!". I look down and realise that on the way down the rope ladder - you know, at the very beginning of the race - I had torn my shirt from the collar all the way to the bottom. And due to the mud and water, my white little sports bra was no longer exactly effective coverage. It was not even a wet t-shirt moment but a wet white sport-bra moment. My boobs were out and on display the whole time I was running, jumping, leaping and climbing. Horrified, I clutched my shirt together but still had to get back up the rope and quickly. Finally, I let my shirt go and climbed up the rope, breasts flashing for everyone to see yet again until I got to the top and managed to hold my shirt together. And then our team didn't even win. Brian was at another end of the creek and claims to this day that he didn't see anything. So then he had the consolation that his entire group of friends had seen my breasts before he ever did.
2. The "I Flashed My Panties at an Entire Store and then at a Cute Boy in the Parking Lot" Moment. I went to Hastings Bookstore in New Braunfels one lazy Saturday afternoon. I had put on my little flip flops and a pretty summer skirt with my tank top. As soon as I got to the store, I went to the washroom. Then I proceeded to browse around the entire store, almost every section, for almost an hour. I finally made my purchase and walked out of the store. I was through the parking lot before I suddenly saw this really good-looking guy give me the funniest look. Then he started to run over to me, yelling "Excuse me!" "Wow," I thought to myself. "Married lady or not, I still got it, baby." Then he said "Hey did you know your skirt is tucked into your panties?" Sure enough, evidently when I was finished in the washroom, my pretty, flowy little skirt had somehow become caught in the elastic of my panties waistband. We're not talking a little glimpse. We're talking the whole back of the skirt stuffed into the top of the panties, hip to hip, there for all. And I had gone through the entire store - including the check out - with my bum out there for all to see.

So which one wins?

In which we have another miracle

I'm home for the day today as Anne is under the weather. Brian is in the midst of a two-week intense modular course (a semester's worth of work in 2 weeks) so we've been patching together baby-sitting (my Mum, my BIL, the 15 year old in the building...) for Anne. She has done really well despite the lack of continuity or routine. Then we had a very busy weekend where we weren't home for three days straight. My Auntie and her brood all came out for the week. We've had so much fun with them. My cousin and her husband came along with their beautiful daughter (7 years old). Anne has fallen in love with Hannah and they were thick as thieves this weekend. Even this morning, through her haze of sickness, she was wondering where "Bananah" was. We had a lot of laughs, a good visit and generally got reconnected. As the years have begun to go by a bit more quickly, I've become more committed to my extended family, wanting to really know them and their stories, build friendships and generally love each other. There are so few people in my life that knew me as a child; being with them gives me a great sense of continuity and rightness. Plus they're just good people.

All of the busyness and what-not evidently wore poor Anne down. My mum and dad were on "Anne-duty" yesterday and unfortunately, she spiked a very high fever. She was lethargic. To illustrate just how bad she must have been feeling: they took her to the playground and she said "No" and refused to budge out of her stroller. For this kid to turn down an opportunity to "play", she's feeling poorly indeed. By the time we were all back home, her fever was almost at 104. Her skin felt like it was on fire.

After everyone left, I went into her room. She woke up and said "Mumma, chair" so we curled up for our nightly ritual even though it was late. She was burning up and I gave her some more Tylenol. Later in the night, around 3 in the morning, she woke up and started to cry. I went into her and she was still very very hot - down to 102.9 but still much higher than I am comfortable with. We curled up in the chair again and Annie said "Mumma, pray". I all but smacked my forehead - DUH!

So I did. We prayed over her and her fever. Then I held her until she fell asleep and finally put her down. A couple of hours later, when I woke up, I came into her room and she was bright-eyed and awake, totally back to normal! I could hardly believe it. We had another miracle! There wasn't any explanation but that God touched her body and healed that fever that had such a strong hold.

She's not quite herself 100% this morning. By 11:30, she was standing by her crib, rubbing her eyes and saying "Mumma, I so tied" ("I'm so tired"). She's sound asleep now after a good lunch. I might go for a lay-down myself as I'm fairly weary as well.

I'm so thankful for our Healer. I'm so thankful for answered prayers. I am thankful that God has the heart of a parent. Even something seemingly small like a high fever for my girl doesn't escape His care.

In which Anne digs Fruit Loops

When we were on vacation, Anne was introduced to Fruit Loops. (For those of you that have missed it, Fruit Loops is my biggest craving lately so, by default, Anne has tried them.) Anyway, she was eating them and every time she'd spill, she's wipe it up! I thought it was hilarious and started to film it when all of a sudden... she figures out she can drink the leftover milk STRAIGHT FROM THE BOWL.

Wonders!

She cracks me up.

In which I read The Way of the Heart

I read The Way of the Heart this week by Henri Nouwen. I have often read books that cite Henri Nouwen but this was the first volume of his that I read. It's not well known, I understand, as he was a prolific writer with many popular titles. And it's no wonder to me now that he is considered one of our great modern writers of the faith. It's a slim volume but carries a lot of weight. I read it straight through and then had to go back and chew on it, over and over again.

The ability to rest and truly abide in the grace and presence of God, in the "unforced rhythms" of grace has preoccupied me for a lot of this year. It's something I'm learning...the hard way. I have been meditating and praying and living in this space of being good at waiting (not my strong point), of learning that faith and patience must go together, of learning to quiet the noise of the world even in my own soul.

I read this paragraph about of Matthew 11:28 months ago and, to be honest, it hasn't left me since. I've been "camped here" - emotionally, spiritually and sometimes it feels physically - for months now.

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." - Jesus

My husband mentioned that this book might be helpful as he read it a few years ago and tapped into something deeper through the practices described here. So I have had it close by for months now, knowing that when I did read it, I'd have to change ... therefore delaying it as long as possible. Now I feel accountable to what I know. And I yearn for this peace of being alone with God, listening to God and abiding in the presence of God. Not just for the state of my own soul but so that I can be transformed.

Using Scripture and the writings of the Desert Fathers & Mothers, Nouwen writes about the simplest and oldest practices of Christianity - solitude, silence and prayer. He writes specifically to those in ministry about how easily we have become wound up in the modern trappings of our society until we are who we hang around with, we are how we position ourselves and we are what we do/produce. It's gentle expose of how we have bought into worldliness, even in Christian ministry. It's a simple and genuine book.

There isn't much pop culture here. Just quietness and a path to peace that has been walked by our brothers and sisters for years.

Solitude is not simply withdrawing and being alone, but being alone with God. Silence does not mean abstaining from speaking but listening to God. In short, "solitude and silence are the context within which prayer is practiced" (Way of the Heart, p. 69).

I have to admit that I suck at almost all three of these mainly because I think I occasionally have missed the point of them. I've thought of solitude as "me time", of silence as "not talking" and prayer as me talking to God or about God.

The thing that stays with me is that these practices aren't an end in and of themselves. But rather that because we have learned solitude, silence and prayer, we are becoming compassionate people, full of love for others, able to minister fully and abide in the Father. It's part of being transformed. I remember hearing Brian often say that God doesn't want us to try harder to love people, he wants us to truly love them (Romans 12). I find the "trying" almost easier. Who cares if its exhausting? At least I'm getting it done. This pause in the frenetic pace, this practice or discipline of retreat even in the midst of toddlers, suppers, broken computers and lack of direction can transform.

I feel like I may have been lead here by God.

In which we are in Week 30

As the stunned exclamations increase ("Did you get bigger? Are you due soon? Wow!"), I have realised that I must have seriously grown out these week. Well, there's that and the fact that I can't catch my breath and I have someone's left foot permanently lodged in my ribs. It's funny how to ease your way into this stage so slowly - fetal flutters to slight kicks to increased rolling about and kicks - but all of a sudden, David Beckham resides in utero and appears to be trying to burrow into your diaphrahm. Whew! Last night, I actually jumped when the baby jammed upwards - it downright hurt! Plus this one's been quite a bit more active than Anne was (either that or I mercifully forgot). I don't think it slept all day yesterday. That rocking and rolling, kicking and squirming can be tiring. Good thing I like it.

 

We've picked our baby names. We decided that we weren't going to narrow it down any further than 3-5 names for each gender. Then we'll have the baby and choose a name from the short list. We have 3 girl first names and 2 girl middle names that we love. The girl names were very easy for us. But the boy names? Incredibly difficult! We seem to love love love girl names but just like boy names. So our boy name list was initially almost 45 names because we just threw it on if we halfway liked it! We managed to narrow it down to 5 first names and 3 middle names.

And yes, I'm mean enough to not tell you what any of them are! *cackle cackle*

Same naming criteria as last time did apply though, if that helps:

Here is our Naming Criteria/Test:

1. Prefer more classic, old-fashioned names.
2. Absolutely no names that have appeared in the Top 25 Names for Babies listings within the past 2-3 years. (This may sound odd but I seriously think it's wrong for there to be six little Emmas in a classroom...)
3. Think of every possible acronym created by the name with your initials. (Case in point, one girl I knew had initials that spelled out BRA. How mean is that during junior high?)
4. Allow each other to veto any name for any reason. (If one of us hates it, why bother fighting for it?)
5. Think of every possible grade one child sense of humour/rhyming name you can and play the process of elimination. (Kids are cruel, people...) i.e. Arthur = Artie Fartie or Art Art the Fart.

We had to add another rule though.

6.  How does it go with Anne? For instance, my favourite boy name was Henry. But now with an Anne, you can't have a Henry for obvious reasons.

Here's an interesting site I found that does the work of #5 for you.

http://babynamesworld.parentsconnect.com/

If you put in the baby name, in the tabs at the top it says "Considering this Name?" and it is all the possible teasings that result from that name. Good stuff.

 

I had a good appointment last week. Another giggle from the Executioner that Weighs Me but I refrained from flip-flop slapping. The baby's heartbeat was at 139 this time. Anne was almost always in the high 150s. This one is primarily in the high 140s to low 150s so this was a bit of a drop. Not that it means anything. The babe is also already head-down (hence, the feet in the ribs). Right now, we're measuring almost exactly the same as with Annie, so it figures another 9 pound baby is on the way. Now they're just getting fatter and fatter.

If everyone at work is already incredulous, I'm sure they'll be really excited about the next 9 weeks. LOL As I grow and grow and grow and...

 

I have also decided to leave at the end of August. My doctor recommended that I leave at 37 weeks at the latest so I'll leave at 36 and a half. That means just 6 weeks of work left, if you can believe it. I feel overwhelmed at that thought as I have so much to do but feel good about the decision. It will give me more time at home with Annie, more time to get settled and organized, more time to put between the old life and prep for the new. And if I go early, then I'm not caught unawares.

---

Your baby's lungs and digestive tract are almost fully developed. While your baby may soon slow up growing in length, (he measures about 15.7 inches/ 40 centimetres from crown to toe by now), he will continue to gain weight until he's born.

This week your baby continues to open and shut his eyes. He can probably see what's going on in utero, distinguish light from dark and even track a light source. If you shine a light on your stomach, your baby may move his head to follow the light or even reach out to touch the moving glow. Some researchers think baring your stomach to light stimulates visual development. But don't expect 20/20 vision when your baby is born -- newborns can see a distance of only about 8 to 12 inches/ 20 to 30 centimetres. (Children with normal vision don't reach 20/20 vision until about age 7 to 9.) To complete the picture, your baby now has eyebrows and eyelashes.

A pint and a half/around a litre of amniotic fluid now surrounds your baby but that volume decreases as he gets bigger and has less room in your uterus. As you and the baby continue to grow, don't be alarmed if you feel breathless, as if you can't get enough air; it's just your uterus pressing against your diaphragm. There is a light at the end of the tunnel though. At about 34 weeks (or just before delivery, if this is your second or third pregnancy), your baby's head will move down into your pelvis as the baby gets into the right position for birth. That will make breathing and eating a lot easier.

In which you might have grown up in a charismatic church if...

This is just a quick sampling off the top of my head. Any others I'm missing?

• You know what a Jericho March is. And you've done one.
• You've ever danced with a banner or a flag.
• You know that you aren't getting sick - you are "coming down with a healing!"
• You know what a Pentecostal Polka looks like. And you've done one.
• You get uncomfortable in churches where no one shouts out "Amen!" or "Preach it!"
• You have felt the glory fall.
• You don't think it's odd if the preacher says "Don't shout me down cause I'm preaching good!"
• You thought that Jesus must have a southern accent and say "all a'yall" a lot.
• You have ever aspired to be the projector girl, switching out the overheads and slowly revealing the words.
• You have ever been a "catcher".
• You have ever been "caught".
• You aren't bothered by dueling tamborines.
• You were completely comfortable with the concept of being washed in the blood and slain in the spirit.
• You know that the answer to "How are you?" is "Blessed and highly favoured!"
• Most of the teachers/preachers you read/listened to couldn't be found even in Christian bookstores.
• You have sung songs like "Bind Us Together, Lord", "Father Abraham" (with the actions), "There is a River".
• You were convinced that military terms was the best way to describe the church complete with the song "I'm in the Lord's army".
• You were ever told that the best way to start to pray in tongues is to "just let it out".
• You thought that people that didn't speak in tongues might not be saved.
• You thought that the mark of a good youth service was how many kids sobbed uncontrollably and hugged at the altar.
• You remember earlier movements like "Gold Teeth anointing", "barking anointing", "laughing anointing", "crying anointing", "run around the church anointing" and others.
• Your church had banners and at least one of them had a big picture of a lion and the phrase "Lion of Judah" on it.
• You know what flag dancers are.
• You've ever done a "human video" to any song by Ray Boltz or Carmen.
• You have heard of Carmen.
• Your church considered interpretive dance to be the performance of sign language along with the choruses.
• You didn't know the words to most of the hymns on "Top 25 Most Loved Hymns".
• Most of the churches you attended had the words "Christian Centre" or "Fellowship" or "Tabernacle" or "Victory" or "Word" in their church name.
• You were proud that your pastor preached on the radio - even if he had 3AM timeslot and no one listened.
• You understand that just raising your hands isn't quite enough. There are at least 10 styles to raising one's hands.
• You've ever described your summer camp experience as "intense".
• You have tried to lead at least one person to Christ.
• You ever wore a "Heaven, Yes! Hell, No!" t-shirt.
• You watched "Fire by Nite".
• You remember when DC Talk was a rap group. Extra 10 points if you can rap the chorus for "God is Doin' a Nu-Thang".
• You are one of the only Christians in the world that thinks women preachers and pastors are okay.
• You had a lot of diversity in your church.
• You knew that the offering time was really the warm-up sermon.
• You've ever sat in a church service for more than 2 hours. And thought that it was okay "as long as it got out by 1 o'clock".
• And then you came back for evening service.
• You have visited the altar for salvation and rededication at least 6 times.
• You thought that a quiet piano solo of "I Surrender All" was THE way to have an altar call.
• You've ever heard a preacher wait 15 minutes for "just one more hand".
• You know that the front row is called the Splash Zone for good reason.
• You've ever worshipped so hard, you've broken a sweat.
• You know how to "sing a new song to the Lord" along with 100 other people.
• You've attended church in someone's basement.

In which Anne wants chair

I just put Anne down for sleep. I wanted to remember to write this down before she's 14 and I find myself longing for nights like I've just had with her.

We had a quiet night just making supper together. (Well, let's be honest - her idea of "helping" is to eat most of the cheese and take big bites out of tomatoes like they're apples and stick her head under the faucet when it's running.) We ate supper and then read "Pigs" (Three Little Pigs), which is her very favourite book these days, even superseding "Goodnight Moon".  Then bathtime with "BUBBLES!" After her bath, we got her ready for bed. It's funny to me how many things in your life can become rituals and routines that kids cling to for security. We put her baby lotion on, complete with back rubs. Cut her nails, combed her hair, put Ozonol on her face, diapers on her bum (still not night trained - yet!) and then jammies on. And as soon as I'm done with her jammies, she says "Mummy, I want chair." I was blessed that she wanted "chair" and said "First say good night to Daddy." So Brian came in and tried to say good night. She was adamant. "I want Mumma. I want chair." So she quickly gave him his good-night kiss and then again, just in case there was any doubt, "I want chair".

You see, we have a rocking chair in her bedroom. And every night before bed, we have a snuggle. It's getting harder and harder for her to sit on my lap as my own belly takes up most of my lap these days! But we close the blinds, get her Blankie ("Bankie") and she curls around my belly so that she can rest her head right on my heart. I wrap her up in her bed blanket. And Brian stays for "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayers. He turns out the light on his way out the door. And then Anne and I start to pray together. I pray quietly, out loud, into her white blonde hair, kissing the dent between her eyes, just above her nose. We bless all of our family - "Mummy, Daddy, our new baby, Granny and Papa, Auntie and Gunkle, Puppy, Grandma and Grandpa, Auntie Leanna and Uncle Garin, our sweet Megan, Auntie Kim and her friend, Joe. We pray for whatever has been on the news or on my heart for the day. We whisper prayers for kids that don't have Mums and Dads, we pray for peace, we pray that people would know that they are loved. We pray for each other, for Anne and her days and everything she's learning. We pray for her sleep and dreams, her potty training and her time with her Dad the next day. We pray for hungry and sad people. We pray and pray. After I'm done whispering prayers, she's tipped back half asleep. And then I sing. It's more of an "in tune whisper" but all the old charismatic choruses that I loved and grew up on (the ones that the Bergens introduced me to) like "As the Deer Pantheth for the Water" are breathed into her hair as she falls asleep. Then we rock for just a bit longer so that I can watch her, struggling to stay awake but drifting off.

And then I say "Night night". And she sits up and says "Kiss" then kisses me full on the mouth with a big smack. I lay her down in her crib. First cover her up with her blanket. Then tuck Mr. Bear into her left side. Then lay her blankie out flat on her chest so it covers both her and Mr. Bear. Then she says "Thank you, Mumma" and I say "I love you. Sweet dreams." And she pops her thumb into her mouth and sighs.

 

In which I ask for your prayers for the Bergens

Would you please pray for some dear friends of ours?
You may have heard on the news that a missionary couple were brutally attacked this week in Kenya. John and Eloise Bergen (ages 70 and 68) are missionaries with Hope for the Nations, based in Kelowna. I heard about the attack on the news but names have just been released.
Here's the thing: John and Eloise were my childhood pastors. They were our next-door neighbours when we lived in Regina and, at the time, pastors of Regina Christian Centre. They were very instrumental in my family's decision to follow Jesus as they embraced and loved us unconditionally. We have sporadically stayed in touch with them through the years. We hadn't heard from them for a few months but now it makes sense - they were in Kenya, caring for widows and orphans. John always reminds me of the prophet Jeremiah - the word of God was like fire shut up in his bones. His faith consumed him; he was so passionate and relentless. They evidently don't believe in retirement.
I understand that they were airlifted to Nairobi and are receiving medical care. John is the worse-off as he was attacked with a machete resulting in broken arms and legs, a broken jaw and a concussion. Eloise was also attacked but managed to pull John into the vehicle and head for help. It appears that it was an "inside job" as two of their guards from the compound where they lived were arrested.
Please pray for these two saints?
Here is the article:

By James Keller, THE CANADIAN PRESS

fctAdTag("bigbox",MyGenericTagVar,1); VANCOUVER - A B.C. couple who traded their quiet mountain community for missionary work in Kenya were in critical condition Thursday after a brutal assault with machetes in an attack friends say may have involved the guards hired to protect them. John Bergen and his American wife, Eloise, who moved to Kenya from Vernon, B.C., to volunteer for the group Hope for the Nations, were attacked Wednesday night at their home in the town of Kitale. Police believe it was a robbery. A group of attackers wielding machetes and clubs first attacked John Bergen, 70, leaving him for dead in the bushes before turning their attention to his wife, said Steven Pippin, another volunteer with the missionary group in Kenya. He said they then tied up Eloise Bergen, 65, and attacked her, leaving her trapped under a mess of furniture while they ransacked the couple's home on the outskirts of Kitale, a municipality of about 200,000 in western Kenya. John Bergen's injuries - which included fractures in his legs and arms, a broken jaw and a concussion - were the most severe, said Pippin. After the brutal attack was over, Eloise Bergen crawled out from under the rubble, used scissors to free her hands and pulled her husband into their vehicle. Her face swollen and still bleeding, she drove through the dark to the group's offices 10 kilometres away. "She was able to find our place, came up to our gate, honked her horn," Pippin said in an interview from Kitale. "We were all just getting ready for bed, I hear all this noise, so as I came running out, I see them helping her into the house and when I met them at the door, her face was just a mess." They were rushed to hospital and later airlifted to the Kenyan capital of Nairobi. As of Thursday night, two of the couple's guards and five others had been arrested, said Pippin. Police were still looking for at least four other suspects. The couple arrived in Kenya with Hope for the Nations just four months ago, primarily to help women and children made widows and orphans by the conflict in the African country earlier this year. It was their first overseas trip with Hope for the Nations but they had been involved with other organizations in the past, said Ralph Bromley, president of the missionary group, a faith-based, non-denominational missionary group with projects in Africa, Asia, Russia and Mexico. "Typically grandparent, the good-Samaritan kind of people, love-your-neighbour kind of people," Bromley said of the Bergens from his office in Kelowna, B.C. "Helping with community development, just loving of people - that's how they are. They are just very, very good, solid folks." Canada's Foreign Affairs Department said consular officials were providing support to the couple, but couldn't discuss details of the case due to privacy laws. "Our officials in Kenya have been in contact with local police to seek additional information and to press for a thorough investigation into this senseless act of violence," department spokesman Alain Cacchione said in an email. Bromley said other than the fact that robbers tend to target foreigners, who they assume are wealthy, he doesn't believe the couple's nationalities or involvement in missionary work would have motivated the attack. He said Kenya is a relatively safe country. "If you look at the number of incidents throughout the whole country, this is really very, very unusual," said Bromley. "When there's political violence, it's tribe against tribe - it is safe (for foreigners)." Still, he said the offices in Kitale are highly secure, surrounded by walls and protected by guards and dogs. Bromley praised the local Kenyan police for their quick work on the case, and he expected the attackers to be swiftly punished. "The Kenyan police are very sensitive to people being attacked," he said. "They will be very severe in their punishment of these people, because they send a message: Don't you ever do that again. Part of that is an expression of their appreciation for the humanitarian work that comes into their country."

In which we are in Week 29

I read through my "Here's where your baby's at" below, which this week stresses the importance of nutrition. Right now, my idea of good nutrition is to pass on the third bowl of Fruit Loops with the air of a martyr laying down their life. Good thing prenatal vitamins exist.

I skipped my last doctor's appointment about 3 weeks ago. I am rather tired of being weighed.

That's the only reason I didn't go.

Brian thought it was pretty funny. He was like "Seriously? You didn't go because you don't want to get weighed? Seriously?"

And then when I gave him The Look, he poured me another bowl of Fruit Loops and said "Hey, that's cool."

Smart man.

It doesn't help that the girl that weighs me at the office is about 16 years old and has the lithe body of a born athlete but with her perky breasts bolted on a la Victoria Beckham. And then I lumber in to stand on the scale, swollen feet and sweaty, tired of listening to Toni Braxton begging someone to unbreak her heart in the waiting room (which is another post itself - what ob-gyn office plays R&B AT THE LOUDEST POSSIBLE VOLUME?).

"Do you want to take your shoes off?" she asks sympathetically. Like somehow the flip-flops are making the big difference. But I obediently take them off.

Then she starts to move the little weight around and then kind of giggles - GIGGLES! - and says "Guess I need to move one of the bigger ones! Hee hee."

Yes. Isn't that funny.

And then, in my dreams, I slap her in the face with my flip-flop. It's very satisfying.

You know, I'm not an overweight person (well, at least not by much more than a stubborn 10 pounds). I haven't put on a ton of weight with this pregnancy. And yet I walk out of there, feeling like a beluga, about to pop with gestational diabetes. Why, oh why, if you look pretty okay and haven't ballooned do they make you go through this humiliating procedure?! And then why, oh why, do they then bellow out "You've put on 20 pounds!" so that all the people in the waiting room can hear.

So I skipped it last month. And when I called to make my next one, they were horrified and all "Mrs. Bessey! We haven't seen you in 7 weeks! Are you still pregnant?"

Yes, aren't I amazing! Somehow I have managed to maintain the pregnancy .... even without getting weighed! Imagine that. You'd almost think that women had been having babies for millions of years or something.

Anyway, I have an appointment on Friday. Wish me luck.

---

Your baby now weighs around 2.5 pounds / 1.1 kilograms and measures about 15 inches / 38 centimetres from head to toe.

Your baby's head is getting bigger, and brain growth is very rapid at this time. Nearly all babies react to sound by 30 weeks.

Your baby's nutritional needs reach their peak during the third trimester. You'll need plenty of protein, vitamin C, folic acid, iron, and calcium (about 200 milligrams is deposited in your baby's skeleton every day), so eat foods rich in these nutrients. The skeleton hardens even more and the brain, muscles, and lungs continue to mature. So take a look at our eating well guide to make sure you are getting the right minerals and vitamins.

In which we have stolen the American dream

I picked up MacLeans this week because of their cover feature story.

Canadians vs. Americans: The Startling Facts

Basically, compared to the US, we work less, live longer, enjoy better health and have more sex. We're also wealthier and we spend a lot less on healthcare.

We read through it and pretty much nodded the entire way: yep, sounds about right.

Some interesting ones of note:

• Canadians are wealthier than Americans. It's not because we make more (we don't) - it's because we carry less debt. As a result, our networth is much higher (30% higher). Sure, they have bigger homes and nicer cars; they bought it on credit.
• Canadians work less hours than Americans. Plus we receive (and take) more vacation time.  We spend more time with our friends and families per week. We also drink more booze. We spend less on homes and cars and tend to eschew big "status" or "luxury" purchases like SUVs.
• We delay marriage and as a result, get divorced a lot less. They seemed to attribute this to the fact that we tend to co-habitate more than Americans as the stigma against it just isn't here. Americans have more children and get married younger; they also get divorced more (particularly in the "Bible belt").
• We're a lot healthier for a lot less money. It's not rocket science - we take better care of ourselves, we take better care of our poor and we only intervene with medical treatment when it's necessary.  The amazing thing to me is that even with our "socialized medicine" that seems to freak Americans out, they spend twice as much as we do on it. Our life expectancies are longer, infant mortality is lower and we have less incidence of "lifestyle" diseases like diabetes and heart disease, obesity etc.
• We actually have higher crime rates for things like property crime and auto theft. But Americans have us beat on violent crimes like murder. Why? They have a lot more guns. Evidently for every 100 people, 30 Canadians have guns but 90 Americans do. That's a lot of weaponry.
• We have more sex, for longer sessions, with more people and with fewer consequences. We're no France by any stretch but we're holding our own evidently. The surprising thing to me here was that we are having more sex, more adventurously, but Americans have much higher teen pregnancies and STDs. It appears that the abstinence-only training has resulted in a lot of guilt and fear and shame about sex so they aren't using protection.
• Canadians travel a lot more and tend to go global. But we really like to visit the States!

In which I discover that I do, in fact, want to go to church

A couple of people have noticed a book I read a few entries ago called "So You Don't Want to Go to Church Anymore" by Jake Colsen. I thought I'd post my thoughts on it.

For those of you unfamiliar, here's the synopsis:

What would you do if you met someone you thought just might be one of Jesus original disciples still living in the 21st Century? That's Jake's dilemma as he meets a man who talks of Jesus as if he had known him, and whose way of living challenges everything Jake had previously known. So You Don t Want to Go To Church Anymore is Jake's compelling journal that chronicles thirteen conversations with his newfound friend over a four-year period and how those exchanges turn Jake's world upside-down. With his help, Jake faces his darkest fears, struggles through brutal circumstances and comes out on the other side in the joy and freedom he always dreamed was possible. If you're tired of just going through the motions of Christianity and want to mine the depths of what it really means to live deeply in Christ, you ll find Jake s story will give you hope for your own. This book probes the difficult questions and offers some far-reaching answers. It just might turn your world upside-down as well!

"Jake Colsen" is actually a pseudonym for two former pastors named Wayne Jacobson and Dave Coleman. My understanding is that this book started off as a blog or journal. Over four years, they'd post portions and everyone would interact with it. Eventually when they "finished", they decided that since it had been such an incredible journey that it needed to be published as a book. So they reformatted it into more of a story and this is the result. They are published by the same group that published "The Shack" which is a book that, while not perfect, really impacted me. I picked up this book on the recommendation of The Shack's author as well as several friends that had read either the book or the blog.

I have to confess that I really resonated with the title. Because to be honest, a lot of times, I don't want to go to church anymore. (Can a woman whose husband is a pastor admit that?) I have felt the futility of the exercise. I have felt the exhaustion of expectations. I have been frustrated with the hierarchy, the programs, the seemingly endless parade of sameness. I have felt like I didn't fit in. And I have felt tired of gossip and innuendo, of performance driven bland, monotonous "cultural Christianity".  I have even left church saying "Well, that was a waste of time." I understand, in particular, the frustration and exhaustion of full-time ministry staff. A lot of what we do just isn't working.  I understand the whole "that's not the church, WE are the church" thing. I've expanded my view of church a lot in the last few years. And experienced a lot of freedom and change along with the ongoing frustration of seeing a continually weak and ineffective church remain irrelevant to the world. And particularly been grieved by it.

So when this book came around, I was ready to love it. And I didn't.

I read all the testimonials and blogs of people who read it and whose LIVES WERE CHANGED FOREVER!!! (but imagine that statement with about four times as many exclamation points...) And I have to shrug and say "Meh."

First of all, I didn't think it was well written. It was choppy and felt like they were force-fitting dialogue.  But hey, I can get over that and press through. But seriously. It's like it should have been an essay that they force-fit into a story.

But there is a lot that I did like about it. The story itself really resonated with me. It really dealt a lot of fair but heavy criticisms at "how" we "do" church.

“Once you build an institution together you have to protect it and its assets to be good stewards. It confuses everything. Even love gets redefined as that which protects the institution and unloving as that which does not. It will turn some of the nicest people in the world into raging maniacs and they never stop to think that all the name-calling and accusations are the opposite of love…

 

It’s love with a hook. If you do what we want, we reward you. If not we punish you. It doesn’t turn out to be about love at all. We give our affection only to those who serve our interests and withhold it from those who do not.”

On living free of dependency on leaders:

"That’s where religion has done the most damage. By making people dependent on its leaders, it has made God’s people passive in their own spiritual growth. We wait for others to show us how, or even just follow them in hopes that they’re getting it right. Jesus wants this relationship with you and he wants you to be an active part in that process.”

 

“But can we do it on our own? Don’t we need some help?” Marsha asked.

 

“Who said you’re alone? Jesus is the way to the Father. As you learn to yield to his Spirit and depend on his power, you’ll discover how to live in the fullness of his life. Yes, he’ll often use other people to encourage or equip you in that process, but the people he uses won’t let you grow dependent on them. They wouldn’t dare crawl between you and the greatest joy of this family—a growing relationship with the Father himself."

 

I loved the emphasis on the relationship with the Father. The "realness" and "meatiness" of what a real relationship looks like. The reality of a family versus an "institution". It gave me a lot to think about. There were several times that I thought "Yeah, that's right on" or "Ouch". Both are good marks, I think.

 

But here's what I didn't like: it made things very much an "either-or" situation. Either you were in a relationship or you were in an established church. For all it's faults and failings, I love church. I love The Church. Sure, it's not perfect. But I felt the hackles on the back of my neck rise up in response to this blanket statements about organized religion, leadership and other matters that were targeted. It's not that I disagreed with the motivation or even necessarily their logic (although sometimes I did). It was more that it savoured largely of bitterness and cynicism than grace. (My primary thought during the book was that these two guys are very very very very bitter.)  It seemed like they had forgotten that the "established church" is just as made up of people as anything else. And they are not the enemy to your relationship with Jesus. Much as you'd like to make them the enemy and blame them, well, as they say in Texas, that dog don't hunt. In a way, it made me realise that, yes, I do still want to go to church. It made me remember all the millions of relationships that were created as a direct result of the dreaded "church establishment".

 

I have seen a lot of crap at church. And I have seen a lot of of Jesus there too.

 

One analogy they make is that church is about obligation and roles but family is about love. I beg to differ. A successful or healthy family often is very dependent on obligation and roles and even rules. Things like "we have every other Christmas together" and "Here's how we do things" and "Sunday suppers are sacred" and "You don't talk to your brother like that". There is a lot of love but love doesn't exclude rules and obligation. It felt like a weak connection. To me, church is exactly like family. Part relationships, part love, part faith, a lot of grace, part obligation, part craziness, part dysfunction and part glory. Families aren't perfect; neither is church. I completely agree that church is meant to be family but let's be honest about what family is.

 

Another thing that bothered me is that I felt that they missed the entire point of the church. If the entire point of church is for you and Jesus to get yours, then we can all go to our bunkers and go home to be with Jesus. I felt like there was a vast gaping hole, never discussed, about what is the MISSION of the church? It was very "navel-gazing" for me, very selfish and very self-indulgent. The missional nature of the church was blithely skipped over as though it had no bearing.

 

It felt like a lot of opinions. In a way, it was like sitting with your friends, bitching about church and how "they" don't get it, writing it all down and then publishing it. It lacked a lot of scholarly credibility for me. It lacked anything solid. It felt fluffy and a lot of "feelings". I didn't agree with some of the theology but that's not necessarily a prerequesite for me enjoying a book. But enough of it was jarring that I wanted to note it.

 

Finally, I struggle with the lack of Scripture. It's the girl that was raised Word of Faith in me coming out. I can't fathom people that lightly dismiss Scripture and its importance in the relationship, let alone everything else. Isn't it part of the conversation?

 

Overall, I closed the book with a bit of a bad taste in my mouth. I liked parts of it and parts of it really resonated with me. But overall, it didn't sit right.

 

 

 

 

In which I had a good day

Do you ever have one of those days when everything seems miraculous and beautiful?

And you feel like the luckiest, the most blessed person in the world? Because you can't get your head around all that you've been given and all that you've experienced and all of the love that fills your heart until you feel like you're not so much crying as you are overflowing?

And you just want to count your blessings, naming them, one by one? And you feel like you are just enveloped in safety and comfort, wrapped in a blanket of love?

And like no matter what happens or what circumstances may come and go,

really, you've had all that matters in life?