My mother, the theologian

So. With all the "living" I've been doing, hanging on by the seat of my pants, getting by on the skin of my teeth, my contemplative life has been pretty much nil.

Instead of reading and praying and going for walks, I pick up the phone to call my mom or Sally in Michigan. If they aren't home, I try Emily in Russia, or Lilly in Maryland. I get online. I tweet, or play game upon game of Free Cell. (I did play solitaire with real cards for a while, but the colder weather necessitates a comforter on my bed and it's too bumpy for real cards.) I watch episode upon episode of Bones.

But this morning, when I chatted with my mother, as I tried to dust the sand from my sleepy eyes, she was in the midst of preparing for Bible Study later in the morning, and so she told me all about Psalm 124. They are doing a Eugene Peterson* study, so the translation below is his:

A Pilgrim Song of David

^1-5 If God hadn't been for us —all together now, Israel, sing out!—
If God hadn't been for us
when everyone went against us,
We would have been swallowed alive
by their violent anger,
Swept away by the flood of rage,
drowned in the torrent;
We would have lost our lives
in the wild, raging water.

⁶ Oh, blessed be God!
He didn't go off and leave us.
He didn't abandon us defenseless,
helpless as a rabbit in a pack of snarling dogs.

⁷ We've flown free from their fangs,
free of their traps, free as a bird.
Their grip is broken;
we're free as a bird in flight.

⁸ God's strong name is our help,
the same God who made heaven and earth.

She said, the point of the psalm is that even when the turkeys tried to get us down, God was with us, and we kept on going. (Those weren't her exact words.) So, as I sat down at the kitchen table with my Grape Nuts and raisins, I got out my Jerusalem Bible, and then my Timothy Botts' book of the Psalms. (Do you know Timothy's** work? Yowsa. His calligraphy is phenomenal.)

And so I sat there, reading Psalm 124, 127*** (if God doesn't build the house)... and ate my breakfast and thought about my mother. Who has been a nurturing force in my life--all of my friends have been. And how finally, I have gotten to the place where I have not one but two scriptures open on my breakfast table.

These are not easy times. I am racing at breakneck to come up with a plausible research project to wow the folks in the Midwest who will determine if I get to start my PhD in the fall. I was pulled off of Mother Goose duty, (where I sing to babies) for the next two weeks, when the session ends, because there were complaints that I seemed not into it, unhappy. And my boss, rather than reprimand me, decided that I have a lot on my plate (oh, did I mention recovery from sinus surgery?) to say, take a break. We'll reevaluate in the new year. Here, I have been off my game, thinking as I look at a sea of young ones and their mothers, grandmothers, fathers, will this be my last fall of singing to them? How they ARE my sunshine. And that sadness came through. And so it's relief, sort of, because yes, I could tell I was off my game, but also, again, sadness, as there is, when you're pulled off the game and someone else is put in.

If God hadn't been with us,

We would have lost our lives
in the wild, raging water.

And I haven't been lost. I haven't been washed away. I'm still here, still plugging, still standing. For now, that is enough.

(I have put the links at the end, in hopes that you will go to them, but to prevent you from leaving the post before finishing reading.)
_____________________
*Eugene Peterson, A long obedience in the same direction.
**Timothy Botts: Online Gallery
***Psalm 127:1-2, from Biblegateway.com

"And then...I turned into a raisin..." (on dreams)

Shoesonwrong, from Twitter.

So I had bad dreams last night. That I was working for a previous boss at my current job and for whatever reason we were hanging out at Marian's apartment instead of the library and there was some Halloween party that I had to orchestrate but I hadn't because I'd been sick and I couldn't stop crying. (In the dream.) I don't think I've ever had a dream where I couldn't stop crying. So I woke up, went to the loo, came back, looked for Max Lucado, couldn't find him, found my Bible, bulging with notebooks I've stuck in as markers. I sighed, looked at my phone, and hit #2 on my speed dial, "MomDad."

They used to be in my phone as "Home," but then I thought, this is my home, this 3rd floor walk up. But I still think of where my parents are as "Home." So Mom answered and I found out that the wedding after the week at the Lake? I'm invited. First I heard. So now I have to decide, in the next three days, before my folks go to visit my brother, Friday. I think I'd like to go because I think it would be a fun wedding. I can't remember the last time I was at a wedding with my sister and she's a fun person to be with. We'll see.

But then my mom had to get off the phone and neither of us were hanging up, it was so silly, and she finally said, "I had a friend and this is what my friend did" and hung up. I'm laughing as I write this.

*******

I listened in on the TCK phone call yesterday--the woman who was the main "guest" made a movie about Army Brats, but so much of the TCK experience translates, whether you were a MK (Missionary Kid) or a Foreign Service Kid (apparently no abbreviation or nickname for that) or a Brat (Army). Interesting, we often have mild cases of Post Traumatic Disorder and often act like the adult children of alcoholics. So I have a lot of books to go and find now, specifically one by Stephanie Pressman, The Narcissistic Family (which, she said, don't let the title turn you off, but any family where the children's welfare isn't priority #1, like when your job moves you around, has these sort of issues.)

But I'm still smiling from playing "who's going to hang up first" with my mom.

Go hug someone. Even if it's a stuffed animal or a pillow--there are too many people dropping these days. Curmudgeon that he was, I'm sure someone loved Jesse Helms and is sad that "Uncle Jesse" is gone.

(I almost deleted that last paragraph, it sounds stilted, and I don't necessarily want the Senator to be a Google hit for this blog, but it's true, so I'm going to hit Publish anyways.)

xo,

SL

I had a friend and this is what my friend did...

Gifts that could prove embarrassing in mixed company:

1. Any season of Sex and the City on DVD
2. The 2008 SATC calendar (but I want it, I do!)
3. you see where this is going...