This morning as my 14-year-old scarfed down chicken-maple sausage links before school, I pulled Tim Keller’s devo (for adults) on Proverbs off the kitchen’s half-wall, where it sits by the fruit bowl. These pages have become to me a quietly cherished part of our routine.
There’s something about Proverbs’ concrete wisdom and word pictures for developing young brains that makes this book wonderfully tactile. (And bless the person who divided it neatly into 31 chapters, one per day of the month.)
This week on a phone conversation with a friend, she asked what’s become our custom at the end of our calls: What’s one intimate prayer request I can pray for?
It was probably telling that I didn’t really know.
Okay, yes, I am this big Enneagram 2, and I am frequently caught “two-ing” in my family—overfunctioning like a crazy person, sublimating any needs of my own, etc.
But I also have this monstrous, flapping-larger-than-my-triceps 3-wing. Which means, for all of you unfamiliar with enneagram-speak, that I am an achiever. Goal-setting can fill my sails (…to the point of what we’ll call “Christian workaholism”).
So there’s this chance raising teenagers could kill me.
I’m (again) in one of these parenting seasons where hope feels like a mind game. There is indeed a battlefield in my brain, in my soul.
Minor confession: In the midst of putting out our family’s prayer letter last week…I declined a call.
My husband walked into the kitchen, and I had this look like your dog would when it pees on the carpet.
I explained my sheepishness. “Why do you feel guilty about that?” he asked, direct as ever.
“I want to be the kind of person who will drop everything and be present with whoever needs it,” I shrugged.
His eyes had this kind look around the edges. “You know you can only be present by shutting other stuff out, right? You’re present with our financial supporters [my husband and I are supported missionaries with Engineering Ministries International] right now. When you’re present with someone else, you’re shutting out other things you could be paying attention to.”
I literally thought about the post I wrote about being distracted with others–and how to be fully, powerfully present. We all know what it’s like to compete with headphones or a smartphone.
So often in my attempts to be everywhere, to be everything to everyone, I’m not “all there” with anyone.
).
The Psalmist prays, Unite my heart to fear your name (Psalm 86:11). I wonder if I was on God’s mind when he penned this one…because at Christmas, my heart can be going in about 167,856 directions at once.
I’m just not all there with him.
So I’m pulling ideas together to help me/you hone in on being “all there” this Christmas, starting with our audience of One.
To an already-packed schedule, Christmas can feel a bit like “more bricks, less straw.”
If your goal is being present in the ways that matter, cut out a few of the “have-to’s” that aren’t.
I’ve shored myself in tonight for something I’ve looked forward to for a month and a half.
For my birthday, my husband got me a personal retreat. And the timing is pitch-perfect. (Well, save the fact that my body seems to have been anticipating the drop of adrenaline, welcoming in a cold.)
As we waltz into December, it’s meaningful to me to look back on this year and ask my soul a few questions. How you doing in there?
David Benner, in The Gift of Being Yourself: The Sacred Call to Self-Discovery, writes,
Christian spirituality involves a transformation of the self that occurs only when God and self are both deeply known. Both, therefore, have an important place in Christian spirituality. There is no deep knowing of God without a deep knowing of self, and no deep knowing of self without a deep knowing of God. John Calvin wrote, “Nearly the whole of sacred doctrine consists in these two parts: knowledge of God and of ourselves.”
One thing I picked up from my Christmases in Uganda: All the glitter and hype of Christmas does have a purpose beyond the secular.
God created seven feasts for the Old Testament Hebrews, which clues me in; these occurred in the same seasons. Maybe the Israelites knew Hadassah made the best matzoh, or Great-Aunt Hephzibah made the best lamb broth, or that the air was filled with chaff after harvest. Heck, Jesus’ big debut was making wine from water for a wedding. The Bible ends with His own wedding. God’s the pinnacle of our joy, of our feasts and revelry. And I think He uses our senses—the whiff of evergreen; the clam dip (it’s a Breitenstein thing); the twinkle lights; Jack Frost nipping at your nose—to cement our minds to what we can’t see.
There’s a bit of irony in this post for me. Currently my family and I—yes, all four children—are residing at my in-laws’ during our stint in the States. I’m still schooling them during the day. Yes, that’s just about as “alone” as it sounds.
Some of you with kids wrapped around your kneecaps might be thinking, Solitude. I think this could be my favorite discipline yet.
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