A Fransiscan Blessing For Lent

May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may live deep within your heart. Amen.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may work for justice, freedom and peace. Amen.

May God bless you with tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection,starvation and war, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and to turn their pain into joy. Amen.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you can make a difference in this world, so that you can do what others claim cannot be done. Amen.

And the Blessing of God, who Creates, Redeems and Sanctifies, be upon you and all you love an pray for this day, and forever more. Amen.

Lent 2011: A Franciscan Blessing from World Vision ACT:S on Vimeo.

{a post from the archives}

A Simple Lent

It seems time is speeding up. It is hard to believe that it is already March 1st.

Lent is well on it's way, and I admit, I have not given it much thought this year. I read several lovely blogs that seem very spiritually alert to the season, and it reminds me of things going on outside of my little world, in the universal church...

But here, I have just been feeling tired. I am now in my third trimester of pregnancy. It seems a little bit surreal that we will soon be meeting our daughter, who, I believe, we will be naming Lydia Grace.

Trever has picked up another part time job and sometimes works very late hours. It takes a little adjusting, going to bed without having him home when I am {thankfully} used to having him home every night. I think back on all the months he was away when he was in the military {once for 15 months at a time!} and this helps me to keep perspective.

I have a whole stack of books sitting on my nightstand, and I really do want to read them all, though I find my progress is slow, because I get tired out very quickly. Sometimes, I have to stop in the middle of a chapter when I find I have to go back and read the same passage over and over, because I am simply spacing out and not retaining what I am reading.

I am still working on that sweet little blanket I am making for my daughter, though the progress there has been slow as well, because my hands will occasionally ache and swell if I work at it for too long. I need breaks.

Trever took me out for a short shopping trip today and I managed to pick up a package of burp cloths, as well as a newborn outfit suitable for bringing her home in and another outfit that will suit nicely when she is a little bigger, in the warmer weather. These are the first things we have bought for our daughter. My mother has picked up a few things, and one of my dear friends has found us a few things as well, all for which I am very grateful, because we have very little in the way of girl things.

It seems ironic that parents of this many children have hardly anything for their new baby, but our lone daughter in this pack of boys will be turning seven soon. There have been three boys born since she was, and as the boys came, we started giving away the girl clothes we had saved and concentrated on boy things. Now, with a new girl gracing our home, we are sort of starting over.

Thankfully, babies do not need very much to start out with. A few things to wear, a car seat, some burp cloths and diapers, and really, that's about it. This mama doesn't feel the need for lots of contraptions. I like keeping it simple.

I admit, there are days when I worry a bit over the idea of going through labor. I feel so tired that it is hard to imagine having enough strength to get through the process. Some days, I can convince myself mentally that God will be my strength, that He will carry me through. But other days, it is harder to imagine. I would very much appreciate your prayers for me and my little one.

Fatigue and pain tie for the most challenging aspects of chronic disease. I confess, sometimes I feel a bit sorry for myself when I start wishing I could just be like any other wife or mom and run with my kids at the park or do any of the hundreds of neat projects with them that I have whirling around in my mind... or even very basic things, like being able to lay down at night and sleep. To actually sleep. To wake up refreshed and ready for another day, instead of waking up after a night of fitful, broken sleep, and wondering how I am going to make it through another day.

I know I have so many things to be grateful for. And I am. Still, being grateful does not diminish pain and struggle. No, sometimes both gratitude and pain take one of your hands each as you walk down the path. I sometimes wonder though, if those who have experienced pain {physical, emotional, spiritual} are able to more fully enter into joy. The contrast makes for such intensity, such gratitude...

I wonder sometimes too, about a God who allows pain, suffering, deformity... I mean, I know the correct theological answers. God didn't cause these things, the fall did, sin did. It's just that sometimes these answers fall flat in the face of real life tragedies. It is hard to trust what you do not understand. I suppose that is why relationship is at the heart of dependance, trust, love. And I guess it can also be said that meaningful realtionships are not always easy. They take commitment.

Even my relationship with God.

Sometimes I feel I am just going through the motions.

But there is a part of me that is simply not willing to give up because I sense that there is something worth fighting for.

That is the way I feel about my illness as well. Some days, I get caught up wondering if I will ever get better, or if I will simply continue to get worse, to deteriorate more and more. I wonder what the point is in seeing one more doctor, going to one more appointment, trying one more medication, adding one more supplement, trying one more diet change...

But then, I can't altogether give up the hope that something might just work. I might just get better. And wouldn't it be worth it? Don't I owe it to myself, to my family, to try?

It's just not in me to give up.

Not for long anyway.

So, this Lent, all I am really doing is plunging back into the gospels and trying to read them like someone who was not raised in church, who has not heard thousands of sermons and read hundreds of books on the subject, but as someone with new, fresh eyes, who is just trying to encounter a living Christ on those pages.

I am just looking for Jesus.

I told you before, I like keeping things simple. :)

~amy danielle

Conflict Resolution

Today I got to watch my five year old practice his best conflict solving skills.

I was reading stories to my four youngest kiddos while Trever was having "band practice" with our four oldest, and I suddenly smelled a very rancid smell.

I stopped mid-sentence and asked my three year old, "Aiden, are you poopy?"

"NO!" he exclaimed emphatically. "It's Owen."

Owen, who is newly two, informed me that it was most definitely NOT him.

Then Owen and Aiden started to argue. They got louder and madder until they were yelling. And hitting. They kind of resembled the Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots they used to make when I was a kid.

Finally, Justice decided to intervene. There had to be a simpler, less arguementative way to discover who was, indeed, poopy.

"Okay, okay, calm down you two. We'll do rock, paper, scissors."

Gotta love being a parent.

Nothing Deep

Well, I haven't posted here in a few days, mainly because I have been feeling so. very. tired. And when I get to feeling like that, I try to concentrate what energy I *do* have on my family.

So, lately I have been going to bed a bit earlier at night and taking afternoon naps. I was on a reading spree for a while, but now even reading seems uninteresting to me. I'm just tired.

I have started my third trimester, and I am attempting to wean down {slowly} off of some of my arthritis medications. So far so good, but I suspect that some of the increased fatigue is from reducing my dose of steroids. This should be temporary.

I've added some nutritional supplements, hoping they will give me a little boost. And I am drinking loads more water and less coffee. Eating less sugar and more veggies. Surely, all these little steps will add up, right?

Had my thyroid tested last week, so I guess I need to call and see what's up with that. And some sort of muscle test my rheumatologist ordered as well. I haven't heard anything yet, but usually no news is good news when it comes to these kinds of things.

We still have not decided on a name for this baby.

On other fronts, my husband bought me some beautiful roses today. They are yellow with an orangey-pink rim around the edges. They remind me of a sunset. He bought them and some how snuck them into the car when I wasn't looking. Then the kids smuggled them into the house, and while I was in the bathroom he put them in a vase and on my dresser. This made me smile. And looking at them now makes me smile again.

He and I went to the movies this weekend, something we rarely do. My sweet sister came up and offered to watch the children for us so we could have a little date. We saw The Vow. It was sweet but somehow, well, anticlimactic. I don't know. It was good, worth seeing. But it ain't The Notebook, if you know what I mean.

Then we got sushi, which I love, but makes me just a teeny bit nervous since I am pregnant. I prayed over it and called it good. My husband managed to get tipsy off of ONE BEER. {This is what happens when you don't drink very much or very often, I suppose.} It was a fun night.

We came home and watched sitcoms.

On a totally unrelated note, I am wishing right now, all at the same time, that I was more spiritual than I am, that the quest for knowing God was somehow more easily understood by my mind and heart, that the laws of entropy did not have to work with such vigor on the state of my housekeeping, that having eight children was slightly more quiet a vocation, and that chamomile oil was not so darned expensive.

I know that last one was a little out of place, but really, I have been wanting a bottle for a long time, and just can't seem to get past the almost $50 price tag. Maybe some day.

Right now, I am saving my dollars for paying my older boys to clean up potty training messes so I don't have to. Don't judge me.

Just yesterday, Aiden pooped in his underwear and I told Andrew I would buy him a Shamrock shake if he would take care of it. {Shamrock shakes are sold at McDonald's, are green and minty flavored, are around only once a year, around St Patrick's Day, and Andrew loves them.} It was a win-win.

Did I ever mention I hate potty training???

And although I just mentioned a few days ago how warm it's been here all winter, it's been very cold the last couple of days, at least for this area, dropping down into the teens at night. I always feel it is a shame that it can get this cold and still not snow. {sigh} I generally stay warm in the house, but the weather does seem to affect my joints and bones. I feel a bit achier than usual.

It's interesting to me that I can sometimes feel lonely and miss my friends and family, yet at the same time not feel like talking to any of them on the phone. I've been feeling tired and weepy and a little emotionally fragile and just haven't felt like talking much. I sat on the couch this morning and tried not to cry into my plate of eggs, and I could not even think of why I was sad.

I suppose it's possible pregnancy hormones may be to blame, since I am also more broken out than I have ever been in my life- even as a teenager. It is very odd to be in your thirties and get acne.

Oh well.

That, in a nutshell, is what has been going on here lately.

I feel like I should have something deeper, more substantial to write about. But this is it for now. Sometimes, you just want to write even if there isn't something amazing floating around in your mind. I can't even think of an appropriate way to end this. So, I'll just leave a simple word of love here. Thank you for following my journey.

~amy danielle

Boys and Girls and Pink

The first time I got pregnant, I was just sure we'd be having a boy. As it turns out, that is exactly what we had and I couldn't have been happier about it. I wanted our first baby to be a boy.

By the time our second baby came along, our friends and family members were hoping for a girl. I was still perfectly happy with having another boy. I liked my first boy and was fairly sure I'd like a second as well. And, lo and behold, our second baby was {also} a boy.

Babies three and four followed suit. More boys. I admit, I cried when I found out baby number three was a boy, because I really thought my husband was disappointed. Once he assured me he was not upset, I was content again. And, well, I was THRILLED baby number four was a boy because my husband promised to {finally} let me use the boy name I had wanted to use since baby number one. {Josiah}

And all along this process of having {boy} babies, I never understood all the *girly stuff*. I was baffled as to why people wanted to buy so much pink. What was with all the ruffles and lace and accessories? Why couldn't a girl be just as cute in denim or in, I don't know, say, yellow or purple or red instead of {gasp!} PINK?

But then came baby number five. Out first girl. Something bizarre happened to this mama, who likely would not have succumbed to the pressure if she would have had a girl earlier in the birth order. But all those years of boy stuff {blue, green, camo for heaven's sake} made pink somehow more compelling, more attractive than it maybe should have been. And I admit with not a little shame that I went a little crazy buying up impractical clothing that was lacey and frilly and, yes, pink. Very, very pink.

It didn't last forever because this mama is nothing if not practical, and I quickly recognized my sweet little daughter was every bit as cute, and a lot more comfortable, wearing cotton jammies and onesies and rompers. She wouldn't keep a headband on her head to save her life and she had no hair for barrettes. So, we abandoned the frills {except on special occasions} and embraced the practical. But I have to admit, it is still a lot more fun to shop for girls than boys.

Fast forward a few years. Babies number 6, 7 & 8 were all boys. I love my boys, y'all, so don't think for a minute I'm complaining about it. But that brings us to the present, and I am expecting baby girl number 2 in May. Liberty, our oldest daughter, will be turning seven the month before her sister arrives, and I think you would be hard pressed to find anyone quite so happy about getting a baby sister as she is.

And the quantity of pink-hued items being purchased is on the rise.

I've decided just to go with it this time around.

That being said,I've never really been one of those people that assigns specific colors and toys and such to specific genders. I let my oldest son carry his Hot Wheels cars in a purse. Almost all of my boys have gone through stages when their favorite color was pink. {At first, this was very hard on their father, poor man. Now he just smiles and knows they will likely grow out of it.}

And Liberty? She went through a stage that lasted a couple years where she was all about cowgirls with everything it entails- flannel shirts and jeans, boots and hats and horses galore. She was not all that interested in anything particularly *girly* in the way of apparel and toys. She rarely plays with dolls. But, give the girl a break. She has seven brothers, y'all.

And I guess my feeling on the matter is that there are a lot more important ways to embrace being a female than wearing dresses and pink. {Just as there is a lot more to being a male than wearing, I don't know, blue or green or camo.} Boys still like to help bake cookies {and GASP! decorate them too!} and girls still like to play in the mud.

I draw the line at letting her pee standing up. {wink}

All this to say, we are very excited to be getting another girl and we just don't sweat the small stuff.

When we have discussions with our older boys about how God wants them to conduct their lives, we don't bring up the color of their shirts. Seems pretty silly.

Man{kind} looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at our hearts.

So, I guess I am a lot more focused on what is going on *inside* my children's hearts and minds than what they wear.

And as I start purchasing a few things for the sweet little girl we are anticipating, I am keeping all this in mind.

~amy danielle

Dark Secrets

I have a deep, dark little secret. And once I tell you what it is, you may never look at me the same. I hope you'll take the time to hear me out, to really hear what my heart is trying to communicate. But I guess I'd also understand if you are too scandalized and offended by what I am about to say.

So here goes:

I don't like to call myself a Christian.

{Insert wailing and gnashing of teeth here.}

Okay, okay, listen. I really do have {what I think anyway} are good reasons.

It bothers me that saying, "I'm a Christian" can mean a million things to a million different people. It bothers me that there are people all over the world who give not a second thought to actually doing anything Jesus said who nonetheless call themselves Christians. I don't want to be lumped in with a group of people I can't identify with in any substantial way, and who believe a lot of things {sometimes even about God} that I completely disagree with.

In short, my definition of true Christianity is clearly different from the generic way it is used today, which makes me hesitant to use it at all. And I also don't like the idea of having one word encapsulating all I am and believe.

Let me give you an example of what I mean.

Say you have a hankering for a latte, and while in line at Starbucks you notice a nifty little chalkboard sign with some wise words etched in calligraphy on it. Not knowing the source of the quote, you ask the smiling barista {who has likely imbibed too deeply of the caffeinated products she's selling and talks a little too fast} whether she knows whose words are on that little chalkboard. She replies that it is a Ghandi quote.

She starts telling you about how the words of Ghandi inspire her, how wise she thinks he was. You smile and nod. Then she asks you about yourself.

But to say to the barista at Starbucks, "I'm a Christian," will fill her mind with all kinds of images you can not control. Maybe she grew up in a Christian church, and she feels just fine about it. She smiles and hands you your latte and all is well.

But then again, maybe she shared a class in college with a so-called Christian who was completely intolerant towards anything that was different from themselves: other religions, viewpoints, sexual orientations, etc. Maybe the only encounter she has had with Christianity has been hate, arrogance, and political agendas.

In which case, said barista looks at you, thinks "Oh great. One of *those* people." And she hands you your latte with the hopes you won't try to cram your religion down her throat, because she's not interested in your brand of religion, thank-you-very-much.

And I don't think *that* brand of Christianity looks a whole lot like Jesus.

It also bothers me that, in many ways, Christians {as the term is used today} are largely a fear-based people. They are afraid to learn about other religions, other view points, other ways of doing things, sometimes because they feel by doing so they are compromising their faith. I do not believe this to be true.

I believe that we can learn a lot from all kinds of other people, and should.

To quote author Penelope Wilcock,

"My own feeling is that I am not so wise that I can afford to ignore the wisdom of others because their religious affiliations are different from my own... if the truth in Christ is absolute and real, then we need never be afraid to seek after truth wherever we find it, for in His grace our search will ultimately lead us to Him... I have found that the wisdom and insights of world religions have enriched rather than threatened my faith: Jesus Christ is my lord and Master, and I would have it no other way."

I realize this is a rather broad statement, and that there may be some of you reading this who are imagining all the ways that this could go very wrong. I am not suggesting that all Christians should immerse themselves in other religions. I am simply offering for consideration the idea that we not be afraid of other viewpoints, and that we can recognize and discern truth, no matter what the source. We should not throw out the baby with the bathwater.

I am also adamant that being a Christian is not so much what you believe but much, much more about who you are. You can believe in all the right theologies and give some sort of mental assent to all the creeds of the faith, and not be a Christian. Jesus' own words in the Bible make very clear that it is what we *do* and not what we *say* that make us His followers.

You can believe that if you plant seeds in your garden they will germinate and bloom into beautiful flowers. But believing this does not make you a gardener. You have to actually plant the seeds.

It is this saying and not doing that makes so-called Christians unpalatable to others.

Because how can we say we love Jesus and not care about the widow, the orphan, taking care of the Earth-home He has provided us, feeding the poor and clothing the naked and caring for the animals he created?

This makes me very sad.

I have one more point I'd like to touch on, briefly. It's a touchy one, but it shouldn't be left unsaid. It bothers me tremendously that Christians fight one another, because of differences in theology or ritual or liturgy or what have you. It bothers me that in any given town, you can have two churches, sometimes even of the same denomination, across the street from each other, and that the people will not associate with members of other congregations.

Are we so audacious as to believe that only our church or denomination will be going to Heaven? Then why do we act the way we do?

If the church today is supposed to be the body of Christ, do we imagine He will allow it {His own body!?} to be so fragmented?

Sadly, I find that most of the issues Christians bicker over really should not be deal breakers. Can't we learn from one another rather than separate and alienate one another? *sigh*

Well, I guess I've gone on enough for now. If you've read down this far, thank you. I appreciate your willingness to hear me out.

I love Jesus. My life is caught up in trying to follow His example in my day to day, ordinary life. And I find that His way embraces people, it discerns truth wherever it is found, it makes all things holy.

Jesus was not afraid of differences. He was not concerned about the company He kept, what people would say about Him for the things he said and did, or His reputation. He just went on loving His Father, and loving the people that came into His life.

So, in a nutshell, that's what I intend to do as well.

All that to say, I'm not crazy about labels. They complicate things that should be kept simple.

And I like simple.

~amy danielle

Simplicity & Writing

Finding a good time to embrace any kind of regularity in writing is surprising quite difficult for me, it seems. With the new year, I decided I wanted to make writing more of a regular habit, not quite so sporadic. I don't know that I am hoping so much for breathtaking insight as much as a time each day to reflect, focus, ponder...

But finding the time is the trick.

Mornings are tough because all the kiddos are up and there are about a million distractions. We home school. It's life.

Evenings, I'm just beat. Sometimes I write then anyway, but I wonder how coherent my thoughts are and how well I am communicating. I can only assume this trend will continue, as I begin my third trimester next week.

Afternoons seem like the logical solution except, well, that's when I tend to try to sneak in a nap. And really, there is no way I am giving up naps. We are finally at the point where the children neatly fit into two groups for nap time purposes: those young enough to need one and those old enough to be quiet and read while the others sleep. Works well for me.

It isn't that I don't write at other times besides just the time I am on the computer- I do. I write in private journals, I write letters, and I do an exorbitant amount of writing in my head. In a way, I am always writing.

I admit, rheumatoid arthritis has slowed me down a bit. I am much more fatigued, tired, weak- and what with my hands swelling, I do less writing holding a pen. It makes me a little sad. Still, slowing down is not the same as stopping, and my husband has assured me that if ever I get to the point where I can no longer continue writing, he will purchase one of those nifty programs that write for you while you speak. {Sounds like torture to my technology-resistant brain, but I'm sure somewhere deep down I posses the ability to learn to use it.}

In any case, I am hoping to pop in here a bit more regularly this year. No promises. No resolutions. I'm not even going to come up with a goal concerning this endeavor. {I.e. I hereby solemnly swear I will write here at this blog at least three times a week as long as I shall live...}

No.

I don't need any more deadlines or promises to keep. {Read: more pressure and more ways to feel like I am failing if I don't live up to my own unrealistic expectations.}

I'm just keeping it simple.

Simple feels right to me.

~amy danielle