This is a story about me. But it’s also about you. Whether you’re married or single.
Today is our 29th wedding anniversary. And 28 years ago today was a bad day.
Our one year anniversary.
We were with family and friends at a cabin, high on a pine-filled shore overlooking a pristine lake in northern Wisconsin.
The other day I wanted to throw something. Or have a pity party that would involve eating lots of Patticake (from YUM!) with Cookie Dough ice cream.
And I couldn’t figure out why!
Until the late afternoon when it hit me. I was cranky because I felt out of control.
Can you relate? Maybe just a little bit?
Dear Max and Emily,
What a picture of joy! It was a hot Minnesota summer afternoon and there was laughter and dancing and prayers and great hopes for your future together. You were surrounded by people who love you.
So…right.
You did a lot of hard work to get to this place. You did the pre-marital counseling thing and the financial seminar thing, and you really tried to honor God in every way as you walked towards marriage.
And now you’re here. You’re married.
But the news these days is filled with stories of TomKat and John Edwards and Kim Kardashian, and Arnold Swarzenager. And a thousand million more examples of infidelity and “irreconcilable differences” and custody battles. Disheartening, eh?
Why do you think you’ll be different than Kim and Arnold and whoever? What will give you an edge so you won’t be another bad statistic in a few years. Or 15?
Well, it’s over. We’ve been off the grid to one degree or another and have discovered we’re not “all that”.
We don’t need to be accessible to everyone all the time and surprisingly the world is still spinning and no one we were responsible for died!
The biggest loss for me was my iphone and every app that goes with it (read here). Apparently I’m not alone in my attachment. Look at the stats I read this week:
The benefits and drawbacks to technology and media were both intensified this week, but the biggest lesson for me is that I’m Media ADD – totally undisciplined in this area. I need BOUNDARIES like Lindsay Lohan needs a better rehab program.
Confession: I may be more responsive to my phone than I am to God.
There are no magic beans in this experiment. In each area it’s going to take some conscious decisions about new habits and boundaries if we are going to move the dial even a millimeter. Sooo… Help me out…
Do you have boundaries regarding media? What are they?
For example, do you only check email or Facebook or Twitter at certain times of the day? Put your phone away? Or only use your phone for “necessary” stuff like calls and map quest? Go without internet on the weekends? Guard times of silence in your car or other places?
Some people dread praying aloud like a cat dreads a bath.
You say you can relate? When it comes time for closing prayer you hyper-ventilate? Suddenly decide you need to go to the bathroom? Get a case of laryngitis?
Me? Like it or not, I’ve been doing it for a long time. Occupational hazard.
So I’ve gotten at least fairly ok at the “lifting ups” and the “if it’s your wills” and words like “grace and mercy”.
My out loud prayers are kind of like business letters all proper and punctuated, politically correct and polite.
But my real prayers? They sound more like David’s prayers of desperation than Mary’s Magnificat.
My “real” prayers sound like:
“Helpmehelpmehelpme! Oh, look! There’s a bird!”
Or like a letter from a kid at camp home to his parents:
My “camp letter” to God might sound more like…
Dear Mom and Dad, (or God)
I have to write this to get chicken dinner tonight. (or, I have to pray so I can say I prayed cuz I’m a Christian and it’s kind of expected)
It’s really hot here and I’m out of underwear, and send snacks. (or, It’s about me, and it’s about Me, and it’s about ME!)
love,
Laura (or, Amen)
But here’s what I’m thinking. As a parent, any communication from my kids is golden. I don’t care what they say, I just want them talking to me.
And as a parent, I know they’re kids. They’re not going to talk like me or think like me, or always remember their manners.
Yeah, I want them to know me, to trust me, to obey me, to ask my opinion, but they’re kids, and if they’re talking to me that’s a start!
What do your “real” prayers sound like?
So this week is Media week for our little Summer of 7 band of intrepid women. We’re trying an experimental mutiny against excess in order to get a better perspective on kingdom living. You can read about our adventures here, and here.
As we planned our media strategy Monday night, Theresa bemoaned missing out on the details of the “TomKat” break-up, and Cathy has been temporarily disowned by her family in favor of t.v. Heather anticipated withdrawal symptoms as a Pinterholic.
Our biggest fear though, was that we’d feel cut off from community. We envisioned showing up at each other’s houses, peering through the window like orphans in a Dicken’s novel, pathetically saying “Please talk to me!!!”
Personally I decided to go without my phone for the week, which I think must earn me brownie points somewhere in the universe because this is sacrificial, darn it!
Sunday I went to Costco for hamburgers and came home with a vacuum cleaner.
I’d like to think it was my reward for surviving the Costco parking lot without committing murder or at least swearing, but maybe not so much.
My experiences at Costco have gotten me to thinking about this post from last December that I needed to remember in July…
I was maneuvering laboriously, with stops and starts, through the parking lot at Costco yesterday, thinking for the millionth time that the Costco parking lot is either an outer ring of hell or a brilliant opportunity for spiritual formation.
Ever feel disappointed in God?
Or let down by people and situations that don’t go your way and that translates to “really God’s fault” cuz, you know, He’s God and everything, so the buck stops with Him.
Yeah, me too.
For those of you just joining us, on Fridays I try to share practices or resources that God can use to form us. Maggie named it “Spirit Stretch Fridays”.
Anyway, this summer a group of us (some in person, and some online) are trying a spiritual experiment using the book 7, an Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker. Buy it and jump in with us if you haven’t already! You can read about our experiences here, and here.
The other night our merry little band gathered around the table on my patio. It was the perfect, warm summer evening with a breeze that kept the mosquitos away, and Molly made it even better by introducing us to dark chocolate covered almonds with sea salt from Trader Joes. We can’t decide whether we should write her into our wills or shun her for sucking us into this vortex of deliciousity.
Probably once a week I get THE question, “What do you do?”
I don’t have a business card or a title or a clear-cut job description so I stutter a lot when answering. Some of you can relate. Others are reading this and feeling huge relief that they can’t relate.
Monday I wrote about how sometimes we can feel reduced to “names” and “numbers”, and other times we cling to our names and numbers like a life jacket that’s the only thing keeping us safe.
As much as we try to major on living out of our identity in Christ, that can be about as easy as feeling comfortable on a blind date. So I’ve been thinking about others who may have struggled with this issue.
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