Blessed are the Peacemakers

Everyone talks at the same time at our dinner table. It’s a cacophony of voices, loud chewing, and forks clanging on plates. Its boys jostling for milk and salt and attention; laughter, politics, ridiculous comments, and someone always asking why we are having chicken again. And with the events in our country these last few days, it has been exceptionally loud as they try to make sense of what they have seen and heard. My attempts to tame it into submission and bring about a peaceful discussion have been about as successful as trying to keep someone from spilling milk. Peace just doesn’t always come the way I think it should and I’m struggling to figure out what it should look like.

A year we didn’t see coming

2020. I know. We’re all done with this year. I’ve seen the memes and read the social media posts. Everyone is ready for this unprecedented dumpster fire of a year to make its way out the door. We are all done with its drama and limping across the finish line here on this final day of it. And yet, as I slow down enough to glance over my shoulder at the last 365 days, I am a little shocked by what I see.

Unprecedented Advent

Advent 2020 began last Sunday. And because it is 2020, I should not be shocked that it began in a bit of an unprecedented way for me. Isn’t that the word of the year? As this season of waiting; of hope, joy, and peace crept silently in with the end of the month, I stood in two different pulpits and preached messages of hope. I sang O Come O Come Emmanuel with two different congregations as the first candles of their wreaths lit up the darkness of historic sanctuaries on a cloudy morning. I felt the frayed edges of this hard year as I led familiar prayers with people I had only just met and marveled at a God who is indeed everywhere.

The kingdom of God on a Tuesday in November

They are saying that this is the most important election in history or in a generation or in our lifetime. And I don’t really know who “they” are, but somehow I have allowed “them” enough access to my spirit to make me anxious. Really anxious. Not just about what will happen at the ballot box today, but about what will happen in our neighborhoods, on our streets, and around our dinner tables in the coming weeks and months. How will we talk about it with our kids? How will we handle the boundary lines drawn in friendships and the walls barricading once easy conversations? And how will we treat the people who don’t see things like we do? Because what might be true is that the way we handle the results of this historic election could indeed be the most important thing of all.

We Know This

Saturday Night Live is not generally where I get inspiration for writing these blog posts. I am old and have to be up way too early on Sunday mornings to make it through much of the late-night comedy show any more. As a teenage babysitter and a college Young Life Leader constantly in need of funny skit ideas, this show was at one time a hilarious staple in my Saturday. Now, though, I just catch the clips that are shared during the week and try to act cool by writing about them. I promise this is going to go somewhere.

The days of doing hard things

“This is so hard! Why is it so hard?!” my youngest collapses on his desk knocking books and papers to the floor. The assignment on his computer is flashing green, but when he clicks on it nothing happens. “It’s due right now! I’m going to get a zero!” He beats hard against the desk with the computer mouse as if maybe a little elbow grease might undo whatever is holding that icon hostage. Tears stream down his face, and I can’t see straight for the headache forming in my eyes. Welcome to another day of digital learning here in the upside-down world of 2020.

For when you don’t understand the plans

NBA stars. When my big boys were little boys that was their dream job. Or NFL running backs. They’d settle for either as long as it involved being famous and playing ball. Turns out genetics are completely against them in achieving this goal. The youngest one is still hoping it might work out for him, though. But we’re not cashing in our retirement plan just yet.

Driving through a storm

I remember it like it was yesterday. Heading out of town for the weekend in a car full of friends, mixed tapes, and snack food, we were bursting at the seams with laughter and luggage. It had begun to get dark, but we were college kids; invincible and unworried. We piled in and hit the road without so much as a glance at the sky.  And we never even saw it coming. That storm came at us out of nowhere.

For when you have more questions than answers

“Mom, can I ride this skateboard down the stairs?” “Mom, can I chew 5 pieces of gum at one time?” “Mom, can I have a pet snake?” “Mom, can I have a snack?” “Mom, can I jump off of this?” I’ve spent a lot of life answering questions. And to be honest, I’m pretty good at it. These boys of mine are rarely able to trip me up or catch me without an answer. Until now. This season seems to have stolen all of my answers. Every single one of them. “Mom when are things just going to be normal?” I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

My Country, ‘Tis of Thee

A pandemic that will not end, economic uncertainty, political unrest, racial inequality … and the 4th of July. I do not even know how to begin this post. I’ve retyped the opening sentences a hundred times because, friends, our land of the free and home of the brave is in pain. The ache is evident in the eyes of our people, in the words of our leaders, and in the spin of our news cycles. All is not well in our country or in our world. And yet, we still have much to celebrate; we are a people who do not give up hope.