When you don't know what to do...

...do the next right thing. Best advice I've heard in years. What's yours? I'd love to hear.

Then What Are You Going To Celebrate?

I love Easter. It's long been my favorite holiday. We haven't really put any umph into celebrating it since we got married and started our family. I'm not really sure why. I'm mean if you aren't going to celebrate the conquering of sin and death and the triumph of good over evil then what are you going to celebrate? Anyway, we decided this year that we had gone long enough without celebrating the greatest event in human history and it was time we did it up a little around here. So we put on our Sunday best, filled some baskets with delectable goodies and beloved little notions, threw a ham in oven and some other yummies on the stove top, hid some plastic eggs and gathered together with family to party like it was AD 33.

Of course no human party could ever be party enough to be worthy of what our Savior did for us on those blessed days so many years ago and what He is still doing all around us as He works so masterfully to make all things new in this broken world that He redeemed on that day. But He knows that. That is what is Easter is about partly...Jesus knowing what it means to be human. He knows that when we humans are happy about something we throw a party. I know Jesus enjoyed a good party.

We are really happy around here that God loved this world even though it was full of sin. That He loved us humans even though we hated him. We are happy that He sent His Son down here to live among us. To know what it is like to be frail and small and weak and surrounded by loud and fearsome temptation. We are happy that His blessed Son lived perfectly among us, knowing all of our temptations but never once giving in to them. We are so humbled and happy that this sinless Man, God's own Son, laid down and died at the hands of sinful men for the sin of the world. For our sin. For our sin upon sin. And we are really happy that this Prince of Life didn't stay dead, but rose from the dead three days after His beautiful sacrifice crushing the power that death and evil have over the world and that since we believe in him we are no longer subject to those terrible tyrannts. We have a new King. A good King. A King who is making all things new. We are really, really, really happy about that. So today we had a long overdue party to celebrate.

And for me it was my best Easter ever...

Well, except for maybe that one seven years ago when this man among men...

...took me to the top of a mountain at sunrise and gave me this:

Flowering Weeds

Two of my new friends here in South Carolina lost babies to miscarriages last week. Babies that they loved and were looking forward to meeting. Babies who would have loved the sweet mommies they were born to. These particular girls have been two of the friendliest and most welcoming people I have met in my new home. I am thankful for them and now I am deeply saddened that such a heartbreaking circumstance has befallen people who have been so kind to me. I have wept while writing this paragraph and it has taken me much longer to write it than it took for you to read it.

Five years ago we lost our first baby to a miscarriage. I didn't much feel like talking about it then and have very rarely talked about it since. When I do mention it it is always in an all business kind of way. I will state the fact that it happened and whatever details surrounding it that are pertinent to the conversation at hand. But I don't...go there. I don't open my heart to any feelings whatsoever surrounding the matter. It is a closed case. Miscarriages happen all the time and one happened to me. Done.

Or so I thought. But then when my friends started having experiences I knew too well those long ignored feelings made their presence known again. The feelings that start when you see blood where blood shouldn't be when you're pregnant. The feelings that grow when the bleeding doesn't stop even as you are trying to convince yourself that it is getting lighter. The feelings that crash down around you when some medical person tells that what you have feared and hoped against and prayed against has happened. Your baby is gone and you will not hold it until heaven. The feelings that sink in when you realize your baby will always be called it. Never him or her. Loud, ugly, painful feelings. Feelings that you don't want and don't know what to do with. Feelings you try to hide when someone asks you how you are. I hate those feelings. I hate that the commonness of miscarriages means that those awful feelings are common too. I hate that the commonness of such awful feelings doesn't make them any less awful. If anything it just makes them more infuriating. I hate all of that.

But in revisiting the emotions of losing a baby I reminded of another kind of feeling I had back then. A feeling that is beautiful and is odd in that it only accompanies the darkest and most terrible of feelings. The kind of peace and hope that only show up in the midst of real fear and despair. The supernatural assurance of God's goodness that is only relevant when everything in you wants to ask how He could be so cruel. The joy that God saves aside for only his children who are experiencing profound sorrow. It's a kind of feeling I can't explain. Supernatural is the best word I've got for it. I think it is commonly called grace.

My miscarriage took place in Italy. I spent a week in an Italian hospital. I had left my home at the end of winter. What was supposed to be a quick four day trip to welcome my brother back from Afghanistan turned into two weeks in a strange place going through the most excruciating experience of my life. While I was gone winter turned into early spring. When I stepped out of my car after the long flight and ride home my yard was covered in purple flowers. Weeds really, but they were flowering weeds, and they were where nothing but winter deadness had been when I left. They said to me in a way no human could have gotten away with "Life goes on." Not in a trite shruggy oh-well-better-luck-next-time kinda way. But in the resounding way of a trustworthy promise. LIFE - real life, the kinda life God makes - goes on and on and on even in this world so broken that an innocent baby isn't even safe in the womb of the mother who loves it. That is what those flowering weeds said to me. My yard wasn't covered in flowers my yard was covered in grace.

I was away this weekend while my friends were just beginning to grapple with their loss. In my prayers for them I kept coming back to those flowering weeds. I asked God to send them something like that. Some kind of visible, palpable grace that is louder than their pain and that is kinder than this world is cruel. I believe that He will.

When I arrived home on Monday my yard that I had left in the dead of winter just days before was full of those same purple flowers I first noticed all those years ago.

His mercy endures forever.

What Else I Get Wrong.

I am often...often...overwhelmed by all I want to teach my children. How to use the potty, how to clean up after themselves, how to call 911, what it means to be kind, what it means to be brave, what kind of boys will be worth their time someday and what kind won't. I mean they came to me knowing nothing. It's a pretty big job.

It is even bigger when I consider that they learn mostly by example. Now I have not only what I want to teach them to worry about but all the things I don't want to teach them as well. How to lose your temper, how to make a mountain out of a molehill, how to be lazy ... impatient ... inflexible...unforgiving. How to give the silent treatment, how to cuss, how to worry and gossip instead of pray, how to hate, how to fear.

See, I am already feeling overwhelmed again. But I am realizing something lately. That if I can teach my children the spectacular truth you will hear about below...really teach it to them so that it takes on a life of its own inside their hearts...well, then it won't really matter what else I get wrong.

(WARNING: Mildly cheesy video. Just close your eyes and listen to the words.)

Remember Who You Wanted To Be

Somehow I earlier this fall I happened upon Gretchen Rubin's Twelve Personal Commandments. The idea resounded with me. Calling them commandments felt icky to me but the idea was bewitching. It reminded me of another bewitching idea I had happened upon several falls ago.

I hate bumper stickers. I could rant your face off about that, but why? In the fall of 2004 I was a newlywed and living briefly in a Holiday Inn. I came home from work one day and in the Holiday Inn parking lot I saw an old beater with a bumper sticker on in that read "Remember Who You Wanted To Be." The idea resounded with me. It was the first bumper sticker I had ever seen that was worth the glue that held it to the bumper. It has haunted me ever since.

I have seen what it looks like when people forget who they wanted to be. It is sad. It musty and dank and depressing. It is everywhere. I knew the moment I read those words that I didn't want to forget who I wanted to be. What I have never been confident about was how I am supposed to make sure I remember.

I think that is why Gretchen's commandment idea was so poignant to me. What do I do in day to day life when I want to remember something? I make list. I write it down. That is what my personal commandments are - a list to help me remember who I wanted to me.

After I made my list I still grappled with my uneasiness with the word commandment. It is a loaded word. I toyed with other words like reminder or principle but they didn't capture the point of the exercise. Commandment is the only word...commanding...enough to express what I want to do with this list. I want to command myself to remember who I wanted to be.

Not in a biblical sense but in a military sense. My mission is remembering who I wanted to be and these are my marching orders.

Sir, yes, sir!

1. Be here now.

2. Give grace.

3. Laugh.

4. Let your smile make you happy.

5. Suffer long.

6. Don't assume another's neurosis.

7. Play along.

8. Empathize.

9. Go outside.

10. Say I'm sorry.

11. Care.

12. Choose and offer freedom.