My Eyes Look to the Mountains

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I don’t often wake in the morning with a Psalm in my head. But today the familiar words of Psalm 121 where my first thoughts…

‘I lift up me eyes to the mountains – where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

God will not let your feet slip – God who watches over you will not slumber. Indeed God who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you – the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm – and will watch over your life. The Lord will watch your coming and going, both now and forevermore.”

At 12:33 am (CST) I got this text: ‘we have arrived at the top of Africa. All 6 in our group made it.” Followed with…’Overwhelming.’

And at 8:14 am, as they got closer to their evening camp, ‘Heading to our final camp. Very ready for a shower!’

Climbing Mt Kilimanjaro has been on Eric’s bucket list for some time. Not many get to accomplish such feats. Today marks an adventure for him like no other. I’m excited for the stories and the pictures he will share when he gets home. But on this day, I know where my faith comes from, and I know who has made the heavens and earth…and I will rejoice and be glad.

Parenting College Students

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Parenting college students is not easy, but come to think of it, neither was parenting a 2 year old. And while I KNEW I was a novice parent and was apt to pick-up a parenting book or ask for advise when my kids were 2, perhaps it might be good to admit my need for guidance now as my “kids” are emerging into adulthood. What is my role in their maturing? When do I intervene and when do I “stay out of it”?

Last night I ran across this article while my daughter and her boyfriend were hanging in the kitchen with me. As I read parts of it aloud, I reiterated (to them and to me) my role. My role is to help you move into adulthood, to move toward self-sufficiency and to help you discover (and grow) your own gifts of self-reliance.

Karen Able says it this way:

When children aren’t given the space to struggle through things on their own, they don’t learn to problem solve very well. They don’t learn to be confident in their own abilities, and it can affect their self-esteem. The other problem with never having to struggle is that you never experience failure and can develop an overwhelming fear of failure and of disappointing others. Both the low self-confidence and the fear of failure can lead to depression or anxiety.

The research data points to the mental health issues college students are facing. Some of this is not new, or so it seems to me. The transition into college is hard and many students do feel lonely and sad. But the over involvement of parents and the lack of experience with failure are factors that are different for many college students.

Here are some things to check out. For a good book see:  How to Raise an Adult: Break Free of the Overparenting Trap and Prepare Your Kid for Success by Julie Lythcott-Haims, out now from Henry Holt and Co.

Or read this article: http://www.slate.com/articles/double_x/doublex/2015/07/helicopter_parenting_is_increasingly_correlated_with_college_age_depression.html?wpsrc=sh_all_dt_tw_top

How will you use your words today?

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i am a person of words. I use words at home. (And usually more words then my family would like!) I rely on words at work. As I teach, write, and engage students words are the primary vehicle. And as I wrestle with the current problems of our world today, where do I go? To words.

Today I saw this video and it challenged me to think about my words. As a realist that wants to lean into a new future I often think my job is to state the problem. But maybe, just maybe, recasting my words in light of the new future I picture might help the world move a bit closer to making it come true.

..and she returns!

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She returned home from her freshman year exactly one year after she went to her Sr. prom.

I remember vividly these days a year ago. Prom marked the beginning of “the end” of high school. It was the start of celebrations, recognitions, and good-byes. From the beginning of May until the end of June we all were part of the journey toward the end. Now, on a Friday evening, she returns home to a quiet house with just mom and dad.

It wasn’t long before the car was unloaded. And soon the three of us had built a fire outside, found the S’mores, and began to tell stories. People she didn’t know a year ago were now friends, and even mom and dad recognized their names. Classes, overwhelming in September, didn’t seem so bad today. The dorm room we tried to make home in August, is now empty and waiting for it’s next resident. So much happened in the past year, and tonight we are witnessing the change first hand.

This is the season where so many students and families are in “the end” times. Busy days. Meaningful days. Thankful days. Scary days. It’s the time to reflect, to be present, and to appreciate the ordinary and extraordinary moments. For those that are in that season, I pray that your journey may be meaningful. Hug your “baby” and participate fully in the journey. Before you know it, it will be over.

This is also the season of “reentry.” While “the end” is a communal journey marked with rites and rituals, this season is quiet and doesn’t have any traditions. And its an unpredictable transition. For some, the reentry will be a welcomed homecoming; for others, the reentry will be a roller coaster of good days and hard times. You see in 12 short months these students have been forced to navigate life on their own. Sure, we stayed connected, but remember our prayer back in September? Now here they are on the other side – changed. Some changes we like and others not so much…but they did it. They grew-up.

And come to think of it, we changed too. Be it the first or the last child, our life had to navigate some twists and turns, ups and downs, loud and quiet moments. And we are here to tell about it as well. Maybe we, those that stayed behind, have our own idea of how this “reentry” should go. And maybe it won’t go as planned. Remember, we’ve changed, they’ve changed, and now we are back together. Be patient with the “reentry” and with each other. This is good work, even as its hard at times. Take it one step at a time. Listen often, exercise patience, and remember…this work is the business of navigating life as one moves from adolescence to adulthood.

In the next few weeks, I pray for the students and families celebrating “the end” as I also hold in my heart the students and families experiencing “reentry.”

Dwelling in Good Friday

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images-53Many of us have witnessed death. Maybe you were at a loved one’s side when they breathed their last breath. Maybe you saw the violence of the world steal a life too soon. Maybe it was a friend. Maybe it was a stranger. Maybe you witnessed it alone. Maybe you were in the midst of a caring community. Maybe death was relief after a long struggle. Maybe death was sudden and shocking. Maybe it was quiet. Maybe you cursed. Maybe you cried. Maybe you were numb. Whatever your situation witnessing death, seeing death changes you. As a human, there is no way to witness death without being touched in some way.

Today’s a day about witnessing death. We don’t say it that way, probably because it’s not politically correct, but Good Friday is a call for Christians to come and witness death – Christ’s death. Humans don’t want to witness death. We don’t want our loved ones to die, and we don’t want to see it. And we certainly don’t want God to die, or to honestly talk about the cruel death crucifixion is. But today, Good Friday, we beg people of faith to come and witness death. The moment Christ, beaten and mocked, was violently nailed to a cross. And then hours later, when the afternoon sun was covered and it became dark as night, his frail body stopped being alive. Jesus, God’s only son, died. Today we are invited into the space we do not want to go.

Today in sanctuaries around the world, crosses are front and center. Violence is named. We talk about blood being shed and a body broken. The picture is painted from many vantage points – from loved ones, those hanging on crosses, the guards in charge, and those passing by. And it’s a heart wrenching account no matter the perspective. The death we are called to witness is horrible. Bottomline. And then, if we let ourselves, those of us who have witnessed death first hand, it’s hard not to have this narrative play alongside our own experience. Today death is real, and personal.

Many of us know mourning. For some of us, mourning has been apart of our story for some time. For some of us, mourning has not deeply impacted our lives. For some of us, mourning is a current state of mind. Wired for community, mourning is a consequence of death. For people who love and care for others, mourning is a reality. And no matter your economic status, gender, or ethnic background, mourning sucks.

Within the past week, two college students in my area committed suicide. Today, I can’t hear death without thinking about the family and friends of these two young adults. Questions. Anger. Sadness. Wonder. Confusion.

Yet they are not the only ones mourning. I remember the many funerals I have attended this past year, and all the lives these people touched. Hundreds, thousands of people mourning, missing the ones they loved. Mourning is a strange human state. Personal and communal, mourning offers an array of emotions which logic cannot explain or chase away. Mourning plays with us, it’s like living in two states at once…physically going through the motions of everyday living and emotionally existing in another realm. Surprising and with patterns, mourning is a roller coaster ride.

Mourning causes us to revisit our own story. Today I think of so many people whose stories have had to be rewritten – because a child, a spouse, a parent, or sister died. No matter how much time passes, rewriting one’s life story requires courage, more courage then some of us think we have, courage human’s cannot muster alone.

Today’s a day about mourning. Good Friday worship witnessing to the death of Jesus, but it also brings Christians together and offers space for mourning. Like at a funeral, we hear the story of a person’s life and death, personally and in community. Mourning is different for each person, yes, but having companions along on the journey is important. I have attended Good Friday worship in my home congregation and in congregations far from my home. The two are not the same, but I am comforted in both places. Why? Because like at a funeral, we can be with people we know or don’t know and it doesn’t matter, what matters is this – there are other trying to understand the impact this person’s life had on theirs, just like me.

Brothers and sisters, today is a day of mourning. We come together to witness death, to be in community, but also to revisit our story in light of this reality. Because of Jesus’ death, my story is rewritten. It’s true. Jesus, God, faced death. Jesus knows the pain of the world, knows betrayal, knows sorrow. And Jesus knows death. I don’t know what to do with that most days. But many days I know Good Friday. I have witnessed death and I know mourning. But that’s not all.

Sunday is coming, and with it comes a promise. With it comes hope and new possibilities. And for that I am grateful. For those of us rewriting our stories, this can give us courage. And I, like many of you, will live into my new story as the days unfold. But for today, I pause and give thanks for a life – the life of Jesus. And remember his story by remembering his death. And I do not do it alone.

If you haven’t already, I encourage you to find a worshipping community to join this evening. If that is not an option for you, I encourage you to find a Bible (or go online) and read the story. (Read Matthew 27, Mark 15, Luke 23, or John 19.) Dwell in this Good Friday.

Curating – what is it and why do it?

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Maybe you are like me and are curious about what it means to help others sift through the amazing amount of information available online, but don’t exactly know what you are doing or why. This activity is both an art and has some guidelines. It is called curating. And while I don’t know much about the guidelines for curating, I do know this – curating is part of my role as a teacher of the church moving into the future. Why? Because one of the ways I share what I know about my disciplines is to point people to other quality, provocative resources and thinkers. Yes, some of them people might already know or find on their own, as they are common in my networks, but some they might never find because they are less common or outside their regular network…but reading or seeing them might push up against their regular way of thinking or might help them, and me, come to understand “the” neighbor more fully. As a teacher committed to learning and a Christian trying to live faithful in our time, this matters to me.

I don’t know if you should curate, only you can answer that. But maybe you live in an intersection of various networks that would benefit from your doing so. The following guide might help you think about curating more fully. (Thanks Timothy Siburg for this link, and more importantly your accepting your role as a curator!)

A Comprehensive Guide to Content Curation

February 27th

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IMG_2862 It was 22 years ago. I had just finished watching the news and the contractions started. After a long night and morning, she was born. We named her Jordan Michelle Elton. And yes, our lives have not been the same since. Last weekend I moved said child into her first apartment. Now a college graduate, she is gainfully employed. (And not living in my house!) And more important than that, she’s becoming an amazing and capable adult. And all of this is happening right before my eyes. Last night on my walk with the dog I remembered back 22 years, to my life pre-Jordan. Newly married and feeling as big as a house, I remembered thinking that once she was born it would be spring. (Or at least I was declaring it spring.) Why not? Spring equals new life and sunshine. And that certainly would describe life inside our house, but it describe life outside as well. No more winter coats or snow boots. More hours of daylight. Waiting for snow to melt and for tulips to bloom. Is there any greater season? In many ways, this season, watching Jordan become an adult, parallel’s the anticipation of spring I felt when Jordan was born. And like waiting for spring, there is little I, as her mom, can do to help usher in this coming season in her life, in our life. No, I simply get to keep my eyes open for signs of this new season, small as they may be, and celebrate the moments when they arrive.  But Jordan was also born into another season – the season of Lent. Lent is that season which invites us, people of faith, to remember Jesus’ walk to the cross. Sure, the promise of the resurrection is along the edges, but this season meanders through the wilderness, names the brokenness, and encourages us, individually and as a community, to not move too quickly through the somber moments. I don’t know about you, but I need space and permission to attend to these times, as much as I need to mark the good. Truth be told, becoming an adult and navigating the dozens of transitions young adulthood requires is hard, it’s like the season of Lent in many ways. Applying for jobs (and receiving rejections) is exhausting. Finding, and living with, roommates requires emotional and physical energy. Learning about budgeting, living on limited income, and understanding the “real cost of life” is more challenging then college level calculus. (And the grading system is very different.) Use to living in a community of peers, now everywhere you turn there are old people living their own patterns with their own friends. Will they get me and my situation? Do I want to be friends with them? Yes, there are promises on the horizon, but they are so far off many days. And just like no one can do this journey for you, no one can speed up the journey either. Today, I wish my “baby” a happy 22nd birthday. Every year is different, but this year is her first year as an adult, not a student. It is truly a new adventure. Jordan, I believe in you, always have and always will. I am proud of you. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes, for they will happen. Use them for good, for learning. Find community, it makes the journey easier. Have fun, even when it’s impractical. And love life, and life is not the destination, it is the journey. Toasting to your day and your journey!

Thursday mornings

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Eight a.m. classes are not my favorite. And 8:00 a.m. classes on Thursday morning are extra tough. Why? Because Wednesdays start with a 5:15 a.m. workout and end hours after I return from helping with middle school ministry at 9 p.m. Then, ready or not, the alarm goes off and Thursday morning arrives.
Randy always gets to class before I do. One by one students file into the Bockman 116. By 8:10 everyone is ready to go. Small talk and an opening prayer start class and we begin to wrestle with the topic of the day. Some days I lecture, some times learning happens in small groups, and some mornings guests grace us with their wisdom. One day I mentioned a song and the class started singing. Another day our conversation led us to learning about church practices in several denominations and countries. Today one of the students had us watching a YouTube video of a guy dancing. Class is never boring, rarely goes as planned, and I always leave more energized then when I arrived.
As I stand in the front of class each Thursday I’m aware of my limitations as a teacher. Yes, I have command of the literature and enjoy crafting learning experiences, but I also have enough awareness of my flaws to keep me humble – and when I forget I look into the student’s faces and remember how much they are shaping me.
Eight different countries are represent in Bockman 116 on Thursday mornings. Two-thirds of the students are international, born outside the U.S., and most have lived in more than one country. One morning a student shared her experience of fetching water everyday, carrying it on her head. Another shared how he is responsible for leading major initiatives of the national church office in his home country. Another talked of her concern for elderly Chinese adults whose one and only child have died and they have no one to care for them. What do I know about these issues? How am I qualified to teach them how to lead in their communities? None of this was taught to me in my studies!
Gone are the days of expert-driven classrooms, at least for me. If I had to be the expert I would have failed years ago. And it is clear to me being an expert would not do justice to enhancing the learning of this group. Expert of what? In order to impress whom? Yet having let go of this expectation, I’ve had to reimagine what role I do play in the classroom. And suddenly a series of question surface: What’s the goal of our time in the classroom? What’s my goal for this diverse group of students? What are we learning? How are we learning? What impact will this class have on their overall learning at this school? Oh no, I’ve opened a whole can of worms and find I’m having to look at teaching from many new perspectives.
This class, this semester, marks the first year of a new curriculum at our school. I’m excited about the curriculum and the class, yet know it is, and will, push me as a teacher. So Thursday mornings I come open and ready to learn, hoping to figure which of my gifts, skills and perspectives are an asset and which are obstacles.
Today, I am captivated by what it means to cultivating communities of learning. So far I have found cultivating communities of learning harder than teaching content, but it is much more fun. Anyone who has taught knows each class, be they gathered in a classroom or online, has it’s own personality. Listening and waiting for that personality to unfold takes patience (sometimes lots of patience). Teaching in this mode often means holding back my voice, and creating space for student voices to be heard. Content, be it reading or videos or lectures, is still important but how much and for what purpose? Teaching as a shaper of community comes with no guarantees. And I can’t predict when, or if, the class personality will emerge. But when it does it, and when the class becomes a community engaged in the subject matter, it is a great joy. This, my friend, is why I teach. And this challenge, as a educator and leader in the church, is what gets me up every morning.

an unforgettable valentine’s day

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Valentine’s Day has never been my favorite holiday. Maybe it’s because I hate all the consumer hype, maybe it’s because I’m not overly romantic, or maybe it’s just because I hate the pressure of “finding just the right gift” to show those I love how much I care. But like it over not, Valentine’s Day comes every year. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against celebrating love or sharing my feelings with those I love. What stresses me out about Valentine’s Day is that my ways of expressing love don’t look anything like the commercials on TV, and I’m left trying to honor the day and dumbfounded as how to do it.

Today is Valentine’s Day and if I want to spend time with my valentine, I will have to spend it in a warehouse…with hundreds of other people. You see today is the last of six days where over a dozen churches and community organizations have joined together to pack meals for hungry children. My husband, being part of the planning team, had to be there at 7 am to open the doors and has to be there through the final shift (5:00 – 7:00 pm) and clean-up tonight. So to spend time with him, I headed to the warehouse this morning and will return again tonight.

This afternoon I’m hanging around the house doing the week’s laundry and it makes today feel more like an ordinary Saturday than a holiday. For that I’m grateful. When I return to the warehouse later, I’ll be happy to be one among the many. Why? because for once this holiday focuses on an understanding of love that fits my own, and embodies my relationship with my valentine. Serving, more than bouquets of flowers and fancy dinners, is my picture of love. Serving not only those I know and love, but also people in our world who are in need is important to me, and our family. And this Valentine’s Day I get to share that commitment with others – and that is pretty awesome.

But there is another exciting element to this Valentine’s Day – the surprise of having our college daughter come home to surprise us and to participate in packing meals! Yes, for her too, love means caring for others and packing meals has been a part of her story since she was in first grade. So it’s a good weekend. Happily, I made her brownies when she arrived last night. Happily I will do her laundry today. Happily I dropped her off at the warehouse this morning to join her dad and the others. And happily I will get her ready to head back to school tomorrow. Our children watch how we love and sometimes they take the good and make it part of their own understanding of loving too.

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It’s soon time for me to return to the warehouse for the final shift of the week. Tonight as I stand in a cold warehouse with hundreds of people who want to make a difference in the lives of children, I will capture an imagine in my head. I’ll look to the screens and wait for the number – somewhere between the 2.2 million meals packed when I last left and the 3.0 million meals goal. And I will rest in the fact that this is a Valentine’s Day I won’t soon forget.

and the floors need to be mopped

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It’s been a week since I pulled into my garage. As I walked into the house and set down my bags, I headed to the kitchen continuing the conversation my husband and I started in the car. “How’s work?” “Talked to the kids?” “What time will you be home from your meeting?” As I sat in the stairway I got a panoramic view of the house – the living room, dining room, kitchen. The floors need to be mopped, I thought.

Today I returned from Detroit were 1,050 church leaders connected, learned, and supported each other in our shared call to children, youth, and young adult ministry. Many were friends and colleagues I anticipate seeing year after year. I treasure our relationships and am amazed at how quickly hotel hallways can become holy spaces. Others were past students, now well established in ministry roles around the country. It is a pleasure to be partners in ministry with them. And other faces were unfamiliar only days ago and today their stories echo in my heart. Their stories express the joys and sadness of leading ministry in 2015.

Art, drama, song, worship, teaching, and conversation embedded the theme of story into the rhythm of each day and night. Rachel Kurtz’s “Make a Difference” made the group “Rise Up” as her voice and the melodies filled our souls. The gospel of Mark came alive as Phil proclaimed it in front of “the big book” Nate and Katelyn illustrated. Liz preached, Todd welcomed, Nikki prepared, Dawn orchestrated, and Chris, Tom, and Tim produced. The rugged, boxy cross and phonograph baptismal font claimed the ballroom, and us. And each day as characters stepped in our “theatre in the round” a room was transformed, and the lost were found. The story lives and moves inside us.

As my husband left, the house quieted and I went to get the mop and the broom. Almost Cinderella-like, I went about my cores as my mind wondered about my friends and the future. “Did our students make it home safely?” “What will come of my new friendships?” “What will next year be like?” “What time is it in our church?” “What do I do with this?” Seeing the new blanket of snow falling outside, I’m hopeful flights continue getting people home. Then the washing machine buzzer sounds; time for another load.

Many hands and minds make a gathering like this possible, and makes evident the claim, “many hands make light work.” But this gathering is not just about an event. It is not even just about growing as leaders. It’s about the church. It’s about people telling God’s story even as they tell a bit of their own.

Tomorrow I, like many others, will return to my “ordinary” work. Classes to teach, confirmation to prepare, sermons to write, retreats to plan, expense reports to complete, emails to return. The list will be long, the demands great, and the energy low. Then, after a full day of work, I, like many, will enter a church building and sit among Kentons, Alexes, Jakes, Jonahs, Justins, and Davins – with all the energy and curiosity 7th grade boys can bring. We’ll ask each other about our week. I’ll hear about soccer and basketball and math tests and siblings. They’ll hear about Detroit, getting 16 inches of snow, and what it’s like watching the Super Bowl with several hundred other people. And in the midst of telling our stories we will tell God’s story.

Perhaps big things will come of this week in Detroit. Some may have sensed a call to ministry, decided to take a new job, committed to go to seminary, or met the person they will marry. I hope the Spirit moved in such profound ways. But perhaps this week in Detroit has as much to do with the ordinary things – our to-do lists, conversations with our friends and family members, healing our hearts, reminding us we are not alone, and, well, mopping the floors. Tomorrow as I head off to work, I will hold this past week in my heart and pray my eyes are open to see God’s story in the people I encounter. Perhaps you will too.

#ext15