Monday, July 6, 2020

Measuring Hamilton’s America

How do you measure a man? A nation? Do our mistakes and evil choices define us and discredit us? 

I’ve been watching Hamilton quite a bit this weekend. The first half of the musical highlights many of A.Ham’s admirable qualities and accomplishments as a “young, scrappy and hungry” patriot who played a pivotal role in our nation's beginnings. 

We also see his relentless ambition, outspoken nature, and his reputation for indiscreet tomcatting. The offstage interaction with the bursar who he “may have punched” and the duel he instigates with General Lee show us how Hamilton’s pride reacts to insults of his honor with violence.

Those character flaws bear rotten fruit as the musical draws to its tragic climax. Despite repeated pleas from his wife, Eliza, to accept their life together as enough, his ambition drives him to stay behind to work alone while the family takes a break upstate. Home alone, the former tomcat can’t say no to an encounter with Maria Reynolds and entraps himself into an ongoing affair and extortion scheme. Arrogantly believing he can write his way out of anything, he publishes the details of the adultery and makes a scandal of himself and his family. In the aftermath, his son Philip attempts to defend his father’s honor, and Hamilton gives him fatally bad advice about how to survive a duel. 

Hamilton at this point is held in contempt politically and socially and distrusted by his family. At the scene of Philip’s death, Eliza screams accusingly, “Alexander, did you know?” and in that moment his face crumples silently, reflecting the irredeemable guilt he feels. His double sorrow over the marriage he damaged to the breaking point and the loss of a son in whose death he played a part are unimaginable and perhaps insurmountable. 

In “Quiet Uptown,” Alexander grieves and seeks consolation in prayer and long walks. He humbly expresses that just being at his wife’s side is now enough for him. Eliza takes his hand in hers, offering something even more unimaginable than their shared grief: forgiveness, a “grace too powerful to name.”

And yet, he once again lets his pride lead him to violence, risking a senseless death even knowing the sorrow it would cause to those who loved him. 

In the denouement after the fatal duel with Burr, we are once again reminded of Hamilton’s accomplishments and told how “God in us mercy gave (Eliza) more time” to do humanitarian work he might have done in a longer life. 

Of course, the portrait of Hamilton in the play is fictional and incomplete. It shows some flaws and mistakes while glossing over others. Still, what are we to make of the version of Alexander Hamilton it presents? How can we esteem him and the nation he made in light of hypocrisies and contemptible acts committed by both? 

The answer is forgiveness, accepting the powerful grace of God through Christ Jesus and extending it to others. The alternative is “an endless cycle of violence and vengeance with no defendants” that Alexander feared the Revolution could unleash. 

Alexander Hamilton and all the founding fathers were nothing less and nothing more than human. They were brilliant and noble at times, yet their fallen nature, prejudices and fatal flaws hindered them from living up to the Enlightened men they aspired to be.

The American experiment they began likewise has always been imperfect and full of contradictions. Despite fits and starts of progress, our nation has never fully lived up to the greatness aspired to in the Declaration’s self-evident truths of equal rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. 

Knowing there is forgiveness, we can make a clear-eyed reckoning with the injustice woven through our history in the form of mistreatment of indigenous peoples, slavery, segregation, discrimination, and prejudicial and often brutal policing. We can break out of our tribalism and partisanship and unite to answer the peaceful protestors’ call to fundamentally reform and remake our society to better reflect the Declaration’s ideal of equality. 

The humility that comes from knowing we are forgiven people frees us from the need to claim absolute complete knowledge and a monopoly on righteousness. We can welcome and encourage the free interchange of ideas. 

Freedom of speech and a diversity of ideas contribute to the flourishing of liberty. Allowing dissenting voices to be heard and engaged in dialogue carries on the tradition of Hamilton, who outspokenly argued to defend his ideas and attack those of his rivals and enemies. 

How do you measure a man? A nation? Soberly, knowing that we are and will be measured ourselves, and that without the grace of God, no one can stand. We can honor Hamilton as a founding father in need of forgiveness. 

Wednesday, October 16, 2019

Short Story - Lost at Disneyland

Charlotte had an assignment for the month to write a short story. I decided to write one of my own as well.

Lost at Disneyland
By Maggie Sierdsma
Sam leaned against a brick wall, jiggling her right leg in time to a minor-key version of “Up On The Housetop.” The eerily festive tune echoed the macabre skeleton and spider web holiday decorations around the stately grounds of The Haunted Mansion. 
Sam liked Nightmare Before Christmas. Everyone said the seasonal overlay was amazing. She had to see it, they said. She wanted to see it. 
If only she could make herself go in the building. 
It was better this way, she thought, remembering the breathlessness, the cold sweat, the shrill whimpering sobs that wouldn’t stop. That was two years ago, the last time she forced herself through the Mansion’s double doors into the dimly lit portrait gallery. No matter how awkward it was to wait out here for the others, it was much less awkward than causing a scene like that. Especially in front of Jamie’s new friends.
Sam’s leg jiggles graduated to toe taps and soon she was pacing restlessly in front of the ghastly green wrought iron gate that marked the exit from the ride. 
“This is taking forever,” she muttered. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Her fingernails flicked lightly back and forth against the sides of her thumbs as she considered what to do. How soon would her best friend Jamie and the other girls from St. Mary’s come off the ride?  Did she have time to make a quick run to the restroom?

To read the rest of the story, follow the link to my Google Drive:


Monday, October 7, 2019

Spiritual Storm

I help out sometimes in 5th/6th grade Sunday school, and yesterday the kids read about Jesus calming a storm.

I have a storm inside me today. "Never be enough" echoes through my brain like lightning strikes and howling wind.

Last night at a marriage seminar, the imagery of The Armor of God was referenced.
To mix scriptural metaphors, it's like this morning I was on the deck of a ship tossed in a tempest, decked out in full armor, fighting hard.

Fighting against the temptation to despair at what I lack by embracing gratitude for what God has given.

Fighting against performance anxiety by receiving grace through Jesus Christ.

Fighting against the fretfulness of my mind with the peace of the Spirit in my soul.

In the midst of crashing waves of "Never be enough," I hear a whisper.

"Be still."



You know, I never will be enough. Nothing I ever do will be enough.

But Jesus is always enough, and he did everything required for my salvation.

Monday, September 30, 2019

Unraveling Unhealthy Shame

Recently my ADHD became "Kaiser Official."  I had previously had it diagnosed by a psychiatrist based on conversations. This time, I went through a formal set of screening questions over the phone, and then completed a computer based test.

Anyway, since the more official diagnosis I've ravenously consumed Twitter threads, vigorously nodding, "me too!" at their anecdotes explaining what it is like to live with ADHD. I also searched out articles and resources designed to help ADHD adults work around the hindrances of dysregulated attention and live a full life.

The metaphor of one article in particular struck me and has been percolating since. It was "Who Drives Your Bus" by Bonnie Mincu of Thrive With ADD.   When my symptoms are really bothering me, I can be a Helpless Hannah. Much of the time, I'm a Steady Eddie, as I rely on the external supports I've developed over the years to make up for what I lack internally.

But I realized that it is Emotional Emma who tends to give me the most trouble. She is the one who

cringes in shame when she remembers the time she accidentally cut someone off and got yelled at in the middle of downtown. In fact, she’s avoided driving on that street ever since.


The key words are "cringes in shame" and "avoided."

It makes no real sense, but when I feel I’ve failed at something, I sometimes want to pretend it doesn’t exist. How irrational and ridiculous is that? I'm no better than a small child covering my eyes and thinking I've disappeared or plugging my ears and chanting "la la la I can't hear you!"

I’ve come to recognize the pattern, and the ways it does not serve me, in several areas of my life.

One area of impact is navigating the paperwork and administrative processes to access support for Charlotte and Elliott's autism. They are both clients of Central Valley Regional Center. As such, they are both eligible for "institutionally deemed" Medi-Cal to cover the co-pays for their therapies. All I had to do was gather the documentation and information needed, fill out the paperwork, set up an appointment and submit the application.

OK, to be fair, that was quite a lot to do. Those steps actually require a lot of executive function, and they were difficult for me. The process took me months each time. What would happen is that I'd get to certain point with their paperwork, set it aside, forget about it, and eventually find it again.

When I found the packet of papers, instead of diligently moving on to the next step and tracking down the missing information or document, I'd set it aside again. Each time I'd find the packet, I'd feel flooded with shame about taking so long, feeling defective for having so much trouble filling out the darn thing. Worse, my failure was costing us money we really needed for other things. Every week I didn't submit it was another week that co-pays for their therapies were piling up.

Not fully conscious of what I was doing, I'd once again I'd set the packet aside and pretend it didn't exist to avoid feeling that intense discomfort. The irony is the process took much longer because of all the time I wasted beating myself up over how long it was taking.

Another place I've noticed the pattern are in my fitness and weight loss efforts.

I'll start a program. The gimmick or novelty keeps me engaged and I do wonderfully, following the program to the tee. I'm a model student or patient or client.

Until I'm not. Until real life sets in and the novelty wears off and I slip away from model student territory. I usually tell myself I'm happy with my progress at that point, or that the program stopped working.

But looking at it through this new insight, I see that the program, whatever it is, becomes aversive to me. A painful reminder of my shame that I instinctively start seeking to avoid.

So there too, I see the same nonsensical, ironic pattern — I’m ashamed that I didn’t stick with the program so I’ll just avoid the program and pretend it doesn’t exist/interest me/work. And as a result I get even further away from sticking with the program and reaching my goals. I'll even tell myself that those goals weren't even really that important to me to begin with.

A benefit of finally being on proper medication for ADHD and the depression/anxiety I developed secondary to it, is that it clears my thoughts so I can see those unhealthy coping mechanisms.

I can see the sneaky lies of shame and how shame steals my joy and wastes my energy like wheels spinning in mud.



I wrote about these unhealthy patterns here to expose the shame to the light. Look, here is how I struggle and here is how I have failed and probably will fail again. Having expressed it, it loses some of its power over me.

Also I can laugh at this ShameCat:

Monday, September 23, 2019

Inspired by Dear Evan Hansen

Dear Evan Hansen is a recent musical with a focus on mental health.  A song from early in the first act, Waving Through a Window, captures the inner dialogue that accompanies social anxiety, withdrawal and avoidance.

The song begins:
I've learned to slam on the brake
Before I even turn the key
Before I make the mistake
Before I lead with the worst of me
Head to Genius.com read the full lyrics or YouTube.com to watch Ben Platt perform it at the 2017 Tonys.

Lately, I've wondered if there was a way to rewrite the song to reflect a journey toward healing. I've only been able to come up with the first stanza though. Something like this:

No need to slam on the brake
I'll take a risk to turn the key
Maybe I'll make a mistake
I can breathe, try again and just be me

Granted, that's pretty cheesy and not as catchy as the original.

But I like it.

Saturday, September 21, 2019

Elopement

Eloping 
Wandering
Bolting
Running away

It's a topic hard to write about, hard to talk about. Shame and fear both hang thick and heavy around the subjects for me.

At various times over the years, all three of my kids have left my side at church, at the grocery store, at Costco, at the mall, at the air museum, at the beach, and at multiple fairs, carnivals and amusement parks. It happens when I am alone with them.  It happens even when I have other adults with me. 



Shame tells me I'm a terrible parent. Logic tells me it takes half a second for a kid, even neurotypical kids, to slip off. It has happened to even the best parent at some point or another. It’s biologically impossible to be alert every single second.
 
When one of my kids takes off, I try to stay calm, keep my wits about me. I push down the panic of what if because I know it isn't helpful in the moment. I can put myself in their shoes and think about where they most likely went.



So given that I have three kids, each with their own history of eloping, am I foolish to even risk going out in public with them in the first place? 

Just stay home and keep them safe. Sounds like a plan.

But they have eloped from home too. The child-proof locks are only child proof until they figure them out or a way around them. At some point, one child needed attention and the other takes the opportunity to impulsively take off. Sometimes we need to open our doors, and sometimes that is all the opening they needed to escape.  



Am I doing the best I can? Yes.
Am I able to be vigilant enough to prevent most of their elopements? Yes. 
Can I prevent all of them? History proves that no, I can't. 

So, prevention is an incomplete solution. 



Equipping them with safety skills fills in some of the gap. 

In some settings, that means providing them with a safe spot to go to when they motive is to escape a situation. In community settings, it means that I have made sure that my kids know my phone number. They know their address. They know how to use crosswalks and other basic pedestrian safety rules. They know what kind of people to ask for help, and so far, they have been cooperative with those who offer help. 


I'm grateful to each and every person who has looked out for my kids, and most of all, I'm thankful for the grace and sovereignty of God who has ultimately kept them safe.

Sunday, September 15, 2019

Small Moment: Crisis in the Drop-Off Lane

Elliott pounded his feet on the floor of the van, holding tight to the headrests of the front seats. "They're already lining up for the flag salute! No, no, no! I missed morning work!" His face flushed almost as red as his glasses as his kicks grew wilder. "I missed morning work! I missed morning work! And I'm late." 

Surprised at his intensity, Maggie's hands froze on the steering wheel. "Bud, it's 8:13. You are not late yet. Just go line up with your class," she urged. She was keenly aware of the line of cars behind them in the drop-off lane.

She repeated herself, hearing a familiar edge to her voice. Her face and chest tingled with hot sparks she had learned to recognize as anxiety.  She knew she was at a crossroads she had visited many times before—anger or calm. I can't calm him if I'm not calm, she told herself, and bit back further instructions. Instead she took a deep breath and tuned into her racing thoughts. 

I feel pressure to solve this quickly. We're in the drop off lane, we're not supposed to linger, people are waiting, we're in the way. Great, just great. Dropping off is so convenient but I'll probably have to walk him in every day from now on just like I had to do for Charlotte ... OK that's not relevant and is definitely not helping us now. I need to pause and focus. 

Maggie took another deep breath and performed silent triage while Elliott continued his lament over the missed morning work. A plan and several backup plans in mind, she twisted in the driver's seat toward her older son, who stood uncertainly outside the van door. "Zachary, just go in without him. I'm going to pull all the way forward so we don't block the drop off lane." 

Zachary said his goodbyes. Maggie inched the van forward, Elliott still lamenting, sliding door still gaping open. Maybe I should go ahead and park instead? Will he calm down in time? She reminded herself to breathe again.

The pressure of blocking traffic removed, she felt much more relaxed. "Bud," Maggie began, with a softer voice this time. "I understand you wanted to do your morning work. We'll have to plan to get to school earlier on Fridays from now on so you can do that before flag salute, OK?"

Elliott took a ragged breath. "Yeah. Wait, am I late now? I don't want to be late for school. No, no! Now I'm late!" His voice spiraled up and tears started anew.

Maggie put a hand on her son's small shoulder. "Elliott, pause. You are not late. The gate is still open. You can get out of the van now and still be on time."  

He picked up his backpack, took a step and froze in his tracks. "I don't want to be late. Are you sure I'm not late?" 

"Not yet. You will be in a second though unless you get out of the van now. Look, they're waiting on you to close the gate."  

Almost suddenly as it began, the storm cleared from Elliott's face. His whole demeanor shifted and he hopped out of the van. "Bye, Mom!"

Before pulling away from the curb, Maggie braked hard, and the sliding door slammed with a satisfying thud. 







Friday, September 13, 2019

Hush, Inward Squidward


The day after a wonderful experience tends to be not quite so wonderful. I slept fitfully. Woke with a headache. Excitement about writing remained, but specific ideas jumbled and slipped away before I could pin them down into a possible topic.

My problem is too many ideas all at once, but I often phrase it too myself that I don't have any idea of what to write.

So I guess I'll write about that today.

My brain contains multitudes. I always have one or more songs playing in my head. My mind's eye constantly roves over the landscape of ideas and possibilities, while simultaneously an inner critic questions the validity and worth of my every thought and action—past, present and future. Seeing so much at once can be fantastic. Making connections, seeing patterns. But more often it is simply paralyzing. I’m a creative perfectionist which means there’s always something out of place and chores undone while I hyperfocus on a new inspiration or rabbit trail.

The creative half of me loves it (whee!) while the critic is like an inward Squidward or that hornbill Zazu shouting, “Now see here!” The inner critic wants me to be as "normal" aka "neurotypical" as possible. It unforgivingly shames me for everything I do that falls short of that standard, with an order to "just try harder."

Day after day of trying harder, striving for an unachievable standard, feeling a failure but hoping no one noticed, that wears a person out. My self-talk over the past three years increasingly sounded like Eeyore regarding his tail:
“No matter. Most likely lose it again, anyway.”
I've had to fight against that chatter again today. What have I done by letting people know about my intention to write and post writing here? Set myself up for failure when I inevitably lose interest or motivation or self-discipline or succumb to ?

Hush, Inward Squidward! So what if I do fail to meet some imagined standard of writerliness?

I'm a writer, not because I post to a blog regularly or cultivate an online brand or get paid to write in any capacity. I'm a writer, not because I write the most eloquent enviable thought provoking prose.

No, I am a writer because God made me to be one. Throughout my whole life I wrote, stopped writing, started again. Throughout the rest of my life, I will write, stop writing, start again.

On a side note related to the felt need to appear as neurotypical as possible, some fresh outside perspectives have helped me shift my thinking on that.

Lately I've been reading posts from a group of women with ADHD on Twitter, eloquent articulate women like Rene Brooks (@blkgirllostkeys), Dani Donovan (@danidonovan), Erynn Brook (@erynnbrook), and Pina ADHD Alien (@ADHD_Alien).

Their threads, and especially the comments sections, have brought me a new level of self-understanding and therefore self-acceptance. (Sings to myself, "All I ever have to be, all I have to be, all I ever have to be .... is what He made me." —Amy Grant)

Pina's work in particular resonates with my experience. I encourage you to check it out.
http://adhd-alien.com/

I'm sure it will help you understand someone you love a little better. Maybe that person will be yourself.


Thursday, September 12, 2019

Writing about Writing

Hello. This blog has been inactive for what... three years?

It's been inactive because I have been telling myself that I was ONCE a writer.

That young girl who filled up tiny memo notebooks with scribbled silly stories, she was a writer. In high school and college, that girl was a writer who filled journals with written prayers, existential grapplings (and also short stories for fun!)

That girl grew up and was paid to write as an intern copywriter/editor at the Youngstown Vindicator. At another job, real estate brokers paid that writer girl to write text for promotional brochures and 32-page long books used to sell fancy apartment complexes from one investor to another. Switched jobs and a staffing company paid her again to write proposals to win large long-term contracts.

In my spare time, the writer I once was wrote a few children's stories and made several goes at writing a memoir/roman-a-clef novel, half-dreaming of publication. That writer started this blog and once posted fairly regularly.

That's the writer I once was.

When I found out about my end-stage heart failure in 2014, I was definitely a writer.  I wrote about the ins and outs of that physical and spiritual journey before and after heart transplant. In that season, I also wrote and re-wrote tens of thousands of words of that pesky unfinished novel. The writer I once was self-published that novel here on Blogger (and then later, cringing, removed it).

So what happened?

The last few years have felt like groping through a dense forest. Caring for three high-needs kids with little respite. Trudging through the bureaucracy around special needs and accessing support—endless assessments, forms, meetings with an endless parade of strangers. Stumbling through a season of questioning my beliefs about grace-based parenting. Worrying about what kind of nation we live in. Doubting, not the Gospel, but the orthodoxy and faithfulness of the churches and parachurch organizations I once trusted.

I felt lost, and I slowly lost my belief that I had something worthwhile to say.

So, I stopped writing. I stopped thinking of myself as a writer entirely.

In the last six months, the forest has thinned out. There are meadows and space for my soul and imagination to breathe and make sense of where I have been and where I'm going. In concrete terms, that means that I switched up my antidepressant, the supports we trudged to access are in place, the therapies are paying off, and our household atmosphere is more peaceful and less chaotic. Most significantly, my youngest is in kindergarten.  Even my homeschooler has enrichment classes away from home two days a week. I suddenly have a luxury I've sorely lacked: stretches of time to spend alone or with friends.

Yesterday, my daughter wrote two sentences to start off a persuasive essay—about why everyone should have weekly dance parties—before asking if she could dictate the rest to me. Her hand muscles tire and cramp easily. Having a scribe is written into her IEP.

I am the scribe. Except it's SO HARD to just be the scribe.

Whenever she starts dictating, immediately a part of my brain kicks into gear, interpreting what she wants to say and generating possibilities for how *I* would word it. Writing and editing are my jam, baby.

I was once a writer? NO. I still AM a writer! So, I'll be writing. Stay tuned for more from this writer who writes about writing, about God's grace on display in this neurodivergent family learning to cope, to thrive and to embrace life with autism, ADHD, anxiety and depression.

Sincerely,
Magpie the Writer.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

No foundation but Jesus

In early September, Wade Burleson's blog post "MOPS and Its Move Away from Biblical Christianity" came across my Facebook feed.  

Sarah Wilkins, who wrote an Open Letter of Concern to MOPS with the theme materials for the 2016-2017 MOPS year, says (emphasis mine):  
...  I realized my core issue with the MOPS curriculum this fall is how sin, truth and Biblical sufficiency are addressed in the materials.  I also have realized that MOPS International seems to have become a major player in a loose trend within traditional Christian churches, a trend in which Truth is represented as something that changes and can't be known. It is a trend where sin is not addressed because personal salvation is deeply rooted in self transcendence. It is a trend in where anyone who takes the Bible as sufficient for one's faith and life is scoffed at as a closed minded and archaic person.
The blog encourages the reader to not take Wade's or Sarah's word for it but go to the source materials.

I took this advice to heart and began an investigation into not only MOPS' materials but also evidence of the "loose trend within traditional Christian churches" toward relativism, mysticism, and theological liberalism that Sarah notes above.

Indeed, in my research, I was alarmed to find how widespread and popular such ideas seem to be, and convicted to examine my own beliefs and practices, in keeping with Paul's exhortation in Colossians 2:8 (New Living Translation):
Don't let anyone capture you with empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense that come from human thinking and from the spiritual powers of this world, rather than from Christ.
 Trevin Wax's 2011 book Counterfeit Gospel includes a table that summarizes some of the most influential types of "empty philosophies and high-sounding nonsense" that are at large in the church today.  He uses a three-fold model of story, message and community to show a full comparison of the true gospel to these counterfeits.


  • True Gospel Story: God's good creation was marred by the fall into sin, and our only hope is a Savior. "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." Romans 3:23
  • True Gospel Announcement: The life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ is the solution to this problem.  "God showed his love for us in this, that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8
  • True Gospel Community: Our ongoing response to God of repentance and faith creates and requires the creation of the Church which lives out the Gospel.  "Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near." Hebrews 10:24-25




I confess I have allowed subtle variations of these counterfeit gospels into my faith life and I repent of that.  I've been convicted that when I read others' interpretations of God's Word more than I study it for myself is when I put myself in danger of such deception.

I plead with you to do research of your own, and to follow the examples of the Bereans who examined the scriptures to test even what the Apostles were saying.

Or to put it a better way, back to Colossians 2, the two verses previous to Paul's warning against being captured by human philosphy says:

6 So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, 7 rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

Monday, August 29, 2016

My Special Girl

Let me tell you about my little Charlotte.  She has unruly dark blond curls and wears pink glasses for an eye that turns in when she is tired.

She tests above grade level in math and reading.  She is hooked on the Magic Tree House series, wants to travel the canals of Venice, and is Rainbow Dash's biggest fan.   She likes to tie knots and build things.  She excels at games that require spatial reasoning.  She collects rocks and pebbles.

On Friday, doctors confirmed something that we already strongly suspected: in addition to her ADHD, our daughter meets the criteria for a diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder, level one (also known as high functioning autism or Asperger's).  

This morning I told staff at her school about the diagnosis.  The first response was a sympathetic "aww," which was odd to hear.  Getting the diagnosis isn't bad news to me.  We already knew Charlotte had these issues and needed support.  As I wrote on Instagram this weekend receiving a diagnosis "means her quirks and difficulties have a name, and she will soon be getting the support she needs for all her strengths to shine."

On Saturday afternoon, Charlotte had some difficulty at a neighbor girl's birthday party and ran home in tears.  After helping her calm down and talking through what upset her at the party, there was a natural opening to talk about the fact that she has autism and what that means.  So now she knows.

The truth will set you free.  Knowledge is power.  These and other similar phrases echo through my mind and heart whenever I think about my precious girl.

Now we know.    





Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Jesus, Present and Merciful in the Mess

So, Connected Families framework is our ideal way of relating to each other as a family.  I don't think anyone would be surprised to learn that we don't live it out perfectly.  Some days we don't even come close.  We are learning and improving in our ability to apply God's truth and grace in our family.  

In the 2012 edition of Jim and Lynne's book Discipline that Connects With Your Child's Heart (a new edition will be released on September), there is a quote on the bottom of page 30 that really resonates with me:

... I act on the belief that Jesus is present and merciful even in messy family conflicts.  He gives me self-control and clear thinking to solve the problem.
We definitely have our share of messy family conflicts, and so these words encourage me deeply.

The presence of Jesus is such a fundamental and powerful truth.  He is Immanuel, God With Us.  What does it mean to act on the belief that Jesus is with me?  Even in the smallest moment of my day, I can bring to mind that He is at my side.  When I think of Him as an observer, I remember the charge to work heartily unto the Lord in my vocation, which is motherhood.  But he is more than a distant audience.  I also renew my mind with the understanding that He is active in the situations I face.  He is working in my heart and the heart of my husband and children.  He is on our side.  He is FOR me and my family, beckoning us to walk in His ways, rooting for us when we make steps in the right path, hesitating and feeble as they may sometimes be.

And when I don't bring those truths to mind, when I dive in impulsively or become paralyzed with anxiety or allow distractions to sway me from my priorities, Jesus is merciful.  When I sin against my children and exasperate them and add fuel to the fire of conflict instead of shodding my feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace, Jesus is merciful. He is my 24/7 parenting coach, whispering gentle correction to my heart whenever I err.  Thanks be to God for his great mercy in Christ our Lord!  Without it, who could stand?

I have found that I can't white-knuckle or fake patience or wisdom in my parenting for very long if at all.  It is such a relief to realize there is a different path.  Jesus said that His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  He is faithful to supply the patience and wisdom that I need for each moment and He does the real work of connecting our family to Himself, to each other and to what He has for us to do.



Sunday, August 14, 2016

Connected Families Overview

My family has been blessed by the ministry of Connected Families, founded by Jim and Lynne Jackson, two committed Christ-following parents of challenging children who have since grown up into dynamic healthy adults.

Jim and Lynne Jackson developed their parenting framework through their own experiences at home and also as they served in professional and ministry roles as therapists and mentors to challenging children and teens.

Before going through the Connected Families online course, my husband and I had a lot of conflict in our marriage about parenting approaches.  As Adam put it, "Not only were we not on the same page, we weren't even in the same book."

We got so much out of the course materials and noticed an immediate difference in the level of stress and chaos in our family relationships.  A few months later we jumped at the opportunity to attend a two day live workshop a few hours from our home so we could meet Jim and Lynne in person and also renew and deepen our understanding of this transformative philosophy.

The Connected Families framework is built sending children four messages through how we handle discipline situations:

  • You are SAFE with me
Stay connected to God through prayer and take a step back to become aware of what's going on in one's heart, soul and mind in order to be purposeful and peaceful rather than reactive in approaching the situation at hand.  
  • You are LOVED no matter what
Use a kind voice, connect physically, and listen with empathy to show truly unconditional love to children at the moment when they may seem and probably feel least deserving.
  • You are CALLED and CAPABLE 
Encourage rather than exasperate the misbehaving child by explicitly pointing out the God-given skill that they demonstrated in their misbehavior, what Jim and Lynne call the "gift gone awry," and consistently call them to and give them opportunities to use that capability for God's good purposes.
  • You are RESPONSIBLE for your actions
When consequences are needed, make them constructive and learning oriented, mirroring God's variety of techniques used to correct individuals in the Bible, such as a do over, a loss of privilege or the opportunity to make restitution.   


In the coming weeks, I plan to share some stories of this framework in action in our family.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Hospitality

At church on Sunday the sermon was about the parable of the banquet, where the invited guests are too busy (or too snobby?) to come, so the host invites all the outsiders who aren't usually considered worthy of such an invitation.

In the course of the talk, the pastor mentioned that the Greek word for hospitality, philoxenia, more literally translates to "love of the stranger."  An article from Sojourners goes even farther, explaining that the root word of xenia could also refer to enemies, not just strangers.

We are hosting an exchange student this year.  She is not an enemy.  She was a stranger only in the sense we had never met, but in reality has much in common with us.  We handpicked her because we thought she would fit in well with our family.

Some of the host families in our program are hosting Muslim students.  There are other families around the country who welcome refugees through programs like World Relief.  There are families who adopt children with a history of trauma or with disabilities and fragile medical conditions.

I can't imagine coping with those challenges, but that is because they aren't the tasks set before me.  I fully believe that if any one of those were set before me, the measure of grace and faith to walk in that path would be provided as well, just as it was when I was diagnosed with end-stage heart failure, and just as we are experiencing now.

When we first started talking about hosting an exchange student, I felt like I had my hands full already handling my own condition, my kids' energy and issues, and so on.  I wondered if we were crazy for thinking we could add another person to our household.  And yet, I felt convicted it was the right step to take.

On Friday, Anya arrived at the airport.  We were all so excited to see each other.  It was a very emotional moment with hugs and tears.  She feels like a member of the family.

We are exercising hospitality, and the measure of grace and faith needed is here at just the right time.  My kids are still a handful and all my other issues are all still in the mix, and yet somehow, surprisingly, I feel less overwhelmed than before.

I feel encouraged and challenged at the same time by these reflections.  I know I have a long way to grow to be truly hospitable, to embrace and welcome strangers and enemies eagerly and lavishly as I would a beloved relative.  I also know that it is God's will to conform me to the character of Christ, and His sanctifying work will continue to be done in my life.


Saturday, July 30, 2016

Lazy Days of Summer

I've sat down here several different times this week, meaning to write another post.  I had so many ideas for topics:


  • Our (still ongoing) journey to diagnosis for our daughter (ADHD and likely autism spectrum disorder)
  • The humbling experience of learning to guide my four year old son's exuberant and sometimes aggressive personality
  • What brought my husband and I to marriage counseling, and its benefits
  • How reexamining everything post-transplant affected my parenting style
  • Why we have embraced Connected Families four messages for our family
  • What I've learned this summer about handling sibling conflict


And I would sit here and type and erase a few sentences, and then a child would climb on my lap for snuggles or invite me to play or ask me to get them something, and I would persist a little longer in trying to write and ask them to be patient.  A few more sentences typed and erased, and an urgent situation would arise needing my attention (sibling squabbles, messes in the making) and that would be the end of my effort.

Yesterday I sat down at my computer three different times fully intending to not get up until I had written something.  And three times I got up again with nothing to show for it.

I did however, have a chance to do my Armor of God Bible study.  This week's focus is on the Helmet of Salvation, which is put on by applying the truth of God's word and the reality of the full implications of my salvation to my thinking.

And as I considered my answers to Priscilla's questions and soaked in the Word, I began to be convicted of my lack of diligence in the study of God's word.

God reaffirmed this conviction when this post on motherhood and quiet times popped up on my Facebook feed.

The Spirit continued to reshape my thinking as I listened to God's word on the radio in the car and reflected on what I had been learning.

Wednesday I read an email from Organized by Choice that talked about two toxic words, "for now." When you just put something somewhere temporarily because you either don't want to do the work right then or don't want to make the decision related to it right then.

This week I have been working a little each day on transforming our spare room from the designated junk hiding spot into a welcoming place for our exchange student Anna to rest and study.  The state of that room when I started was a vivid illustration of the consequences of those two words in my life!

The conviction of the Spirit opened my eyes to see where lack of diligence has affected other areas of my life.

Lack of diligence ... isn't that just a nice way of saying lazy?

Lazy, sluggard, slothful... those are some ugly words.  Do they really apply to me?  Are there areas where I've let my limits and circumstances become an excuse and permission to do less than I am truly able to do?  In my household and mothering, am I working heartily as unto the Lord, or am I doing the bare minimum, looking for shortcuts that seem to save time and energy in the short term but really cause more problems in the long run?

God has a sense of humor, it is often said.

This morning I was up before the rest of my family.  It's a quiet Saturday morning and I was tempted to just browse the internet or play a game on my phone instead of getting started on the tasks of the day.  Thinking of what I have learned this week about diligence, I decided to work on tidying the kitchen instead.  I did grab my phone and look up the latest Truth for Life podcast to listen to while I was working.

Alistair Begg's topic of the day?

Laziness.

While thinking about this topic I googled "chronic illness sluggard" hoping for a Christian perspective on the tension I find myself in.  I'll leave this post with a quote from MockingBirdBaby.net's post, "Work Heartily"

Now don’t get me wrong; there is great value in rest. God, himself, rested on the 7th day when creating our universe for crying out loud! He speaks often of the importance of rest and commands us to Shabbat, but that time of Sabbath is to spend with Him. With my fibromyalgia and dysautonomia doctors are always warning me to take it easy. The challenge here is to recognize when resting is no longer resting but slothfulness. Prayerfully consider where this line is for you, and if you also struggle with a chronic illness to be gracious to yourself.
I will definitely continue to pray for discernment of where that line is.



Friday, July 22, 2016

Putting on the Armor of God

This summer I've been participating in Priscilla Shirer's Armor of God study.  On page 99, Priscilla poses the question:

How did the enemy take advantage of an upsetting, unexpected, chaotic event or circumstance to gain access to your life?
Well, I had a heart transplant 17 months ago.

It all happened quickly.  April 2014 I gave birth to my third baby and a week later was admitted to the hospital with congestive heart failure due to a genetic condition that I had been told wasn't very serious and most likely wouldn't be a problem.  Six months later, I learned that I needed a heart transplant to save my life.  Our family had to temporarily move four hours south to live with my parents a few months later as I waited for and recovered from the transplant.  Then we moved back and have been struggling to find the "new normal" since then.

How's that for an upsetting, unexpected and chaotic event or circumstance?

Those days of heart failure were hard to be sure, but at the same time, it was a beautiful time in my life.  I felt loved, supported, at peace and so very close to God.  It was pretty easy to be heavenly minded when the physical body was declining daily and rapidly.

My post transplant spiritual life has been rocky by comparison,

In the months after my transplant, I was recovering physical wellness, regaining energy, regaining strength almost daily.  I was on an emotional high, so happy and grateful to be alive.  I felt so very much better and could hardly believe there was any limit to how much better I could feel.  It seemed within reason that I was going to be "normal" very soon.

Hello, pride.

God had felt so near.  But slowly, He felt farther away.  Who moved?  That would be me.

Old struggles I thought were resolved cropped back up.  From my high school and college days, God had slowly and painstakingly brought me out of perfectionism, legalism, and the bad habit of measuring myself by my accomplishments or comparing myself to others.  In the past 17 months, I let those snares entangle me again.  I struggled mightily to meet my own expectations and the perceived expectations of others, and despaired when I failed.

Why couldn't I keep up? Maybe I was just lazy.... Maybe I needed to push myself harder.  Maybe I just needed better systems and strategies..  I pushed myself and berated myself for not being able to do and accomplish as much as I thought I should be able to do.

All along, the real and biggest problem was that my focus had moved off of Christ and onto myself, to my struggles and circumstances.  I felt irritable, short-tempered, selfish, restless, unbalanced, uncentered. I was half in denial about the limitations living with a transplant places on me, while also resenting those limitations at the same time.

The enemy had used his usual tactics of deception and hitting at my weak points to pull me down to be sure.


I missed the first three weeks of the Armor of God study due to serving at VBS and needing to get my blood drawn to verify my medicine levels.  Last week I went back through the first few weeks of lessons to catch up.

God's word does not return void and it came at just the right time to rescue me from the pit I had fallen back into.  It opened my eyes to the reality of the enemy and the way he works, but more importantly, reminded me about my spiritual identity and spiritual resources.

With a refreshed and renewed understanding of who I am in Christ, I've been able to better come to grips with the truth of my physical reality as well.

I'm accepting the fact that living with a transplant is like living with a chronic illness or condition.  This new level of acceptance sparked curiosity, and I set out to find out as much as I can about the whats and whys of limits.

Here's what I learned:

Although my new heart works so much better than my old thick, stiff, failing one did, it has specific limitations because of the nerve connections that were severed when the heart was transplanted.

The vagus nerve is the most efficient way for the body to adjust heart rate and blood flow as needed to accommodate for changes in activity level, body position, and external temperature.  But God designed a back-up plan: hormones from the adrenal gland.

But there is a catch: The hormonal pathways my body now uses to adjust my heart rate and blood flow is much slower to turn on and shut off than the nearly instant adjustments the nervous system can make.

As a result, I "feel the burn" sooner when exercising or doing heavy housework, and have more soreness afterward that lingers longer than it otherwise might .  Getting up from a seated or squatting position quickly causes momentary low blood pressure and dizziness, which can be bothersome when picking things up off the floor for example.  If I let myself get too cold, it seems to take forever for me to feel warm again,  More bothersome to me is how much lower my stamina is and longer my recovery time is when the weather is hot.


That is part of the terrain I am traversing.  Other features of my terrain are room for improvement in communication with my wonderful husband who has to work longer hours than I'd like, three active and intense children including a daughter with behaviors on the autism spectrum (we are in the midst of evaluations for a diagnosis) ... those are other features of my terrain.

God is with me, and has not left me helpless or defenseless in the face of these circumstances.  He has blessed me with every spiritual blessing in the heavenlies, but I have to activate them. Richard A. Burr came up with a clever acronym: Prayer Releases All Your Eternal Resources.

Asking for what I need with gratitude relieves anxiety and promotes peace.  I can cast my cares on Him because he cares for me.        

God has been faithful and good through it all.  Here are a few ways he has provided and blessed me:

In my search for truth, I was led to a website for Christians with chronic illness: Rest Ministries.  There I found beautiful words of vulnerability and dependence on God in the midst of suffering.  The prayer cards they offer for download there have been helpful to me as well.

A sibling rivalry e-course by Connected Families we started last month is equipping our family with practical ways to use the shoes of peace in our family relationships.

These months have not been wasted.  Some of what seemed like backward movement may have been necessary to clear the way for new growth in the future.  Certainly, the process of re-evaluating who I am has led to a better certainty and understanding of my gifts and callings.  Creative communication and teaching along with hospitality, which I share with my husband, round out my top three.

This blog is one way to live out my calling.  Opening my home to host La Leche League meetings starting next month is another.  And last but certainly not least, my husband and I will be exercising our shared gift of hospitality by welcoming an exchange student into our family for the coming school year.

I'll be back soon to share more about my journey and what I'm learning from God's graceful discipline.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Reflections on Deuteronomy 6:6-9

This week I bought a Moleskine journal and set it up to use with the bullet journal method. I also installed YouVersion Bible app on my phone, and began a parenting devotional plan in my new journal.

Yesterday I completed the first lesson on Deuteronomy 6:6-9, using the SOAP method that I have described on this blog before.

First I read the Scripture and translated it into pictures.


Then I made the following observations:


  •  I need God's Word in my own heart first in order to teach it to my children.
  •  It will take diligence, which means lots of repetition. I will fail but I must begin again and not give up, but continually renew my efforts. 
  • Binding God's word on my hand could be literal as the ancient Hebrews interpreted it, but I also thought it could mean to consider God's Word before taking any action. 
  • Similarly, wearing it between my eyes could mean allowing God's word to permeate my worldview and color every thought.

I jotted down a few ideas for application:

Home -- incorporate Scripture into my home decor, clothing and jewelry.  Post notes on the refrigerator, bathroom mirror.  Encourage scripture memorization.  Incorporate Scripture into teaching moments.

Away -- Praise and worship music in the car. Talk about God's creation as we drive.

Bedtime -- Bedtime prayers. Talking about how we saw God at work in our day.

Anytime -- Always be on lookout for opportunities to refer to Scriptural principles and contrast with other worldviews.

What struck me most through the day as I attempted to apply it and reflected on my efforts at day's end is how many distractions there are in my world. There's so little time in the day, and so many competing good things to think and talk about and spend time on.  I thought in particular about my kids' books and screen time and how that is a part of creating their worldview and felt a little overwhelmed by the distance between the standard set in this Scripture and the way we are living at the moment.

I wrote this prayer:

Triune God, you are the only perfect parent. Fill my heart with your truths and nudge me to continually renew my efforts to teach them diligently to my children at all times, in all situations, throughout their lives. I fall far short of this goal moment by moment and it is only by your mercy and grace that I will have any measure of success. Thank you for entrusting me with these precious souls. Amen

Simplicity

In 2010 I wrote the following intending to post it on this blog:

Our 700SF 1BR/1BA condo is listed for sale. It goes up on the MLS tomorrow, and our agents are coming by to take pictures. Although prices are still depressed compared to the 2006 inflated levels, there is buying activity going on, and we're expecting a lot of showings.
All that to say that we've been working hard for the past 10 days or so on "staging" our place for sale. Besides rearranging and removing some furniture, the primary activities of staging have been extreme decluttering.
We rented a 5'x10' storage unit to keep all the stuff until we're ready for it again.
Rather than a feeling of sacrifice, I've been surprised to find the functioning of our day to day lives has not been significantly different without the items in storage. In fact, I love the way our house feels without them. If it is so extraneous, it makes me wonder why I've been holding on to it? Why did I live in such a cramped way just for the sake of hoarding things I might need someday when we might live in larger quarters?
Our bedroom is the first room to be absolutely finished. I love to be in there. It feels cool, relaxing and spacious. 
I'm very encouraged to continue allowing the Holy Spirit to build the discipline of simplicity into our lives.

In February this year, we packed up to move in with my parents while I waited for a heart transplant. Enough clothes for eaxh of ua for a week or so, a basket of toys for the kids.

Once again, I wondered if I could live with such a "barebones" inventory in this situation, why do we have so much more in our day-to-day lives?

Yet I forgot the lesson all too quickly.

We will be returning home in a week or so.  While we've been gone, I started thinking of all the things I'd like to acquire and add to my possessions.

Coming across this old post has reminded me of the joy of simple living and to pursue it as a spiritual discipline.

Monday, February 23, 2015

Heart Transplant to Recovery: Second Day

The following was posted to my CaringBridge journal on Feb 23, 2015:

Watched part of the Oscars last night, but fell asleep part way through. Woke up just long enough to hear who won best picture. Slept fitfully in the chair all night. It's much more comfortable to be in the chair up right then reclining because of the chest tubes.

A few minutes ago, they turned off the dobutamine which was supporting my heart function, so right now my heart is beating on its own. If the heart rate (above 90 BPM) and cardiac index (high 2s to low 3s) both stay within normal levels without the dobutamine they will remove the Swan catheter from my neck and help me walk around.

My white blood cell count was slightly elevated on my early morning labs, so they are running cultures from my blood and urine to see what the source might be. There's a chance is just inflammation from the steroids or surgery itself but if it is an infection they will want to nip it in the bud. My temperature is mostly normal 98-99.

I'm very hungry and thirsty. My whole thorax aches.

Dr. Ramzy the transplant surgeon stopped by to talk to me just now. He said he's very pleased with my progress and tell me my heart that I received is very young between 25 and 31 years old that's all the information he could give me right now without me submitting an information request to the transplant coordinators.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Heart Transplant to Recovery: First Day

The following posts were made by my husband on Feb 22, 2015:

Margaret was extubated at 10 pm and after briefly speaking with me went back to sleep. It is assumed there were no issues over night as I did not receive a call and they stated  they would call if there were any problems.  I am on my way to spend the day with her an if all goes well as it has been, they hope to move her from the ICU as early as tomorrow.  She will likely remain hospitalized for about a week.


After a good night Margaret was able to get up and be moved to the chair and she was awake for the morning, numbers that are being monitored remain good, the hope is that tomorrow the swan catheter in her neck which measures pulmonary function and right side of heart function comes out tomorrow, once it comes out she will be able to ambulate and be moved out of the ICU. Chest tubes which remain for drainage are causing pain and discomfort, we hope they are able to be removed on Tuesday.


She is also enjoying her 1st meal tonight.