I'm not at church this morning. Again.
Don't get me wrong, I am very, very thankful for the faith family that I have. It is a relatively diverse group of people who come together more or less weekly for the purpose of seeking spiritual guidance and fulfillment. And it's exquisitely important to note that some of the people who I commune with regularly on the most spiritual levels do not frequent the same church--or any church.
To be completely honest, I have a very paradoxical relationship with organized religion. Which is a bit odd given my personal history and what I consider my depth of faith to be.
My dad has been a pastor since I was three in a Mennonite church. First at West Union in Parnell, IA for 17 years, an now at Beth-El Mennonite in Colorado Springs for the past 18 or so. (For those of you whose education about Mennonites has come from reality TV or tour-guide type books, we drive cars and wear shorts and listen to Black Eyed Peas and drink beer and have real live flush toilets and electric lights and I have never owned a horse.) If you've never attended a Mennonite Church, do. They are--generally speaking--very welcoming, tolerant, grounded, deeply spiritual people who are less interested in "the Bible tells me so" than "love thy neighbor". My experience has been one that has grounded me to seek Truth, and not based on religion.
Let me explain:
The Bible tells a love story. It is not, contrary to popular belief, a book of rules and regulations and judgements about lifestyle and lists of punishable sins.
It is amazing and heartbreaking to me how many people read the Bible--regularly--and completely miss the point. There are, roughly, 1186 chapters in the version of the Bible most widely read. (For you scholar-type people, there are several different versions and scripts used in other faiths, especially Jewish tradition, that are not usually published in the version decreed as acceptable by King James the somethingth--thus the King James version. It gets fairly confusing, but scholars decided which books to include in this version, which as been accepted as Unarguable Truth by Christians Everywhere ever since.) This is not your average lazy Sunday read. To even plow through some of it will take days. Most people cannot even read the whole thing in a year.
It seems to my little pea-size brain that the Biblical story is easiest to understand when taken in the context of the original listeners. What details were important culturally and socially? What parts that seem insignificant to me may have had fundamental meanings to those originally hearing the story?
In that context, I realize that there was a lot that God asked of those who claimed to love and follow God. Take Jesus, for example. He did not come to die on the cross to save our sins. As I read the story in the context of the Old Testament, following the entire story line, it seems his original intent was to completely buck the politio-religious system that existed at the time. I would even argue that he didn't come to establish followers, but was God's effort at a continued relationship with misguided humanity. In the end, salvation through his death on the cross was the gift he left for those who entered into that relationship with God.
I'm not sure I can measure up.
In the wake of a lot of prattle about gun control and Chick-fil-a over the past couple of weeks, I was deeply grieved to see that, once again, Christians everywhere have confused a commitment to an issue over commitment to people. Commitment to relationships with people, no matter the "cause". Truthfully, it makes me ashamed to be associated or categorized with those who would use one's experiences and understandings--in this case even oneself--against them. I know that I've heard people say, "Well, we have to draw the line somewhere," when defending the contradictions of their beliefs and their actions. But the Truth is that the line between right and wrong runs through the middle of each one of us. We'd tear ourselves and everyone we care about apart if we tried to draw a hard line irrespective of the relationships on either side. It's impossible.
I do not intend to stop going to church. Even though it is imperfect--the dysfunction that affects every family affects every church family as well. That's part of being human and part of belonging to a family. I may not agree with how everyone votes or how they choose to spend their money or what they think the issue is. They probably don't agree with me. But I value that relationship and conversation.
I hope that I can teach my kids how to read the Bible and other faith writings--it's one thing to read, another to read wisely. I hope they learn faster and are wiser than I have been. I hope they learn to love enough to be able to enter that relationship and converstaion unconditionally. And though it seems paradoxical at first, perhaps I'm just painfully aware of the contradiction of being a Christian.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
My Olympics
Watching the Summer Olympics inspires me to be more active and attempt athletic-type things. But the reality is simply this:
I could NEVER do that.
While I like to be active, my abilities are limited with average (and even slightly below-average) performance at waaaayyyy above-average effort.
I propose a new Olympic event. It's called Mom-lympics. The events will be as follows:
1. Moving Target Pigtails
2. Work-Family Balance Beam
3. Couch Cushion Diving
4. Swimming in Circles (a specific rule here is that you may only use one limb for actually swimming, and must have at least 4 kids you are responsible for)
5. Wet Toddler Steeple Chase
6. Speed Stain Removal
7. Matching Sock Search
8. Creative Drinking
9. Unevenly Matched Bars
10. Weightlifting (you have to lift each of your children 10 times while singing a Disney tune)
Gold is awarded to the parent who is still laughing at the end.
I could NEVER do that.
While I like to be active, my abilities are limited with average (and even slightly below-average) performance at waaaayyyy above-average effort.
I propose a new Olympic event. It's called Mom-lympics. The events will be as follows:
1. Moving Target Pigtails
2. Work-Family Balance Beam
3. Couch Cushion Diving
4. Swimming in Circles (a specific rule here is that you may only use one limb for actually swimming, and must have at least 4 kids you are responsible for)
5. Wet Toddler Steeple Chase
6. Speed Stain Removal
7. Matching Sock Search
8. Creative Drinking
9. Unevenly Matched Bars
10. Weightlifting (you have to lift each of your children 10 times while singing a Disney tune)
Gold is awarded to the parent who is still laughing at the end.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
sister-wives
There are sisters, and there are sistas.
This post is about the latter. The women in my life who complete me, and who are my closest companions. The ones who understand what makes me tick, and who love me anyway when they don't. These are the women whom share my family and my cooking (which is saying something); who parent my children and who don't mind me parenting theirs. These are the women I want to grow old with, laugh with, cry with, breathe in life with.
I had the privilege of spending two weekends IN A ROW with these amazing people.
We spent a lot of time talking, eating good food, and spent time in both Santa Fe and Taos. If you have never been there, go. Both places are beautiful, especially with the Native history and influence in the area. Plus, the artwork, architecture and jewelry are second-to-none.
This peace was good preparation for the following weekend. My sister-sista and I drove to KS with our combined five kids to visit our cousin-sista and her three. We visited a farm where our grandad grew up and is still owned by Mom's cousin; we played and went swimming and ate freeze-pops and had movie night outside on the lawn. We managed a few minutes of adult conversation spread over two days. We really did look like sister-wives with our eight children all blended together like the Sneetches after their stars got all mixed up:
". . . . Until neither the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew, whether this one was that one . . . or that one was this one . . . or which one what what one . . . or what one was who."
I love the expressions of everyone watching the pigs. "What's it doing, Mama?"
These two littles look an awful lot like three mostly grown up bigs did.
And since it wasn't chaotic enough, we added fire. A whole case of sparklers.
Ahhhhh. This is what lifetimes are made of. Thank you, sistas, for feeding my heart.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Once Upon Allison Reunion
On July 4th, we drove 10 hours to the booming burg of Alpine, AZ for the Allison Family Reunion. In addition to seeing long lost mostly related relatives, we enjoyed good home cooking, hours of catching up conversation, four-wheeler tours, sight-seeing pit stops and a small-town Independence Day Spectacular (Allison Float in the town parade included).
I should note that no 20 hours on the road with three children isn't necessarily my idea of the ideal vacation, but ours travel well with the in-flight movie of their choice. (For those of you who believe I am bending to sorrowful, head-shaking lows by offering nearly 4 hours of screen time each way, I do not apologize. You may consider yourself to be the chauffeur for our next trip sans electronics. Please be prepared to wipe mashed banana off the ceiling, provide snacks at 20 second intervals, play the 'smelly feet' game, be nearly deaf after 2 hours of 21-month-old screeching, sing "wheels on the bus" a bazillion times--with motions--and say "black probe droid" five times fast.)
Here are some photographic highlights of the trip, in no particular order:
I should note that no 20 hours on the road with three children isn't necessarily my idea of the ideal vacation, but ours travel well with the in-flight movie of their choice. (For those of you who believe I am bending to sorrowful, head-shaking lows by offering nearly 4 hours of screen time each way, I do not apologize. You may consider yourself to be the chauffeur for our next trip sans electronics. Please be prepared to wipe mashed banana off the ceiling, provide snacks at 20 second intervals, play the 'smelly feet' game, be nearly deaf after 2 hours of 21-month-old screeching, sing "wheels on the bus" a bazillion times--with motions--and say "black probe droid" five times fast.)
Here are some photographic highlights of the trip, in no particular order:
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Burning
This is a bit surreal.
Just for a bit of history: a forest fire started in a popular hiking canyon just west of Colorado Springs sometime on Saturday afternoon. No one yet knows the cause. Over the last 4 days firefighters, forest service and military groups have been trying to contain--at least slow the progress--of this blaze.
At 4pm this afternoon, famous unpredictable Colorado weather played a major part of pushing this fire down into town. The smoke has been as thick as fog.
This taken on my phone from the corner just behind the administrative building of the hospital around 4, when the winds kicked up.
This is from Clay's phone, at the shop, as the wind began carrying the smoke northeast. (Perspective: our shop is on the far east end of the city.)
This one was posted on Facebook and shows the extent of the fire. For anyone familiar with the area, you can see the "scar" of the old strip-mine area near the center of the photo.
As of right now, 32,000 people have been evacuated. The entire northwest side of Colorado Springs has been ordered to leave.
Flying W Ranch has burned. That is sad and even the newscasters started crying when the news came in. Many of us have been there multiple times and taken family there for a taste of the "old west".
Someone asked me if the people living here think about the risk when building. Just like people who live in tornado alley, people know that it is an inherent risk of living here. We know it can happen, but when it does happen, it doesn't make it any less devastating to the people that it happens to.
Miraculously, there have been no injuries reported, of residents or firefighters. I pray that continues. I thank the residents who have been incredible at cooperating with the evacuation orders, and the many, many people who are working late into the night to provide temporary shelter and comfort for those who are displaced.
They say history doesn't feel like it when you are living it, but I disagree. This will be talked about for generations.
Just for a bit of history: a forest fire started in a popular hiking canyon just west of Colorado Springs sometime on Saturday afternoon. No one yet knows the cause. Over the last 4 days firefighters, forest service and military groups have been trying to contain--at least slow the progress--of this blaze.
At 4pm this afternoon, famous unpredictable Colorado weather played a major part of pushing this fire down into town. The smoke has been as thick as fog.
This taken on my phone from the corner just behind the administrative building of the hospital around 4, when the winds kicked up.
This is from Clay's phone, at the shop, as the wind began carrying the smoke northeast. (Perspective: our shop is on the far east end of the city.)
This one was posted on Facebook and shows the extent of the fire. For anyone familiar with the area, you can see the "scar" of the old strip-mine area near the center of the photo.
As of right now, 32,000 people have been evacuated. The entire northwest side of Colorado Springs has been ordered to leave.
Flying W Ranch has burned. That is sad and even the newscasters started crying when the news came in. Many of us have been there multiple times and taken family there for a taste of the "old west".
Someone asked me if the people living here think about the risk when building. Just like people who live in tornado alley, people know that it is an inherent risk of living here. We know it can happen, but when it does happen, it doesn't make it any less devastating to the people that it happens to.
Miraculously, there have been no injuries reported, of residents or firefighters. I pray that continues. I thank the residents who have been incredible at cooperating with the evacuation orders, and the many, many people who are working late into the night to provide temporary shelter and comfort for those who are displaced.
They say history doesn't feel like it when you are living it, but I disagree. This will be talked about for generations.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Grandparents
I remember my mom's 36th birthday. It was the year of the 17-year cicadas in Iowa, and we sat in the dining room with the shades-of-70's-green and brown shag carpet, eating homemade cake and ice cream. We gave her little trinket gifts and sang and she smiled and said 'thank you.' Then she wailed, "I'm SO OLD!"
Now I'm 36. And most days, I don't feel too bad, but I'm starting to see new wrinkles and my skin is turning papery in certain places, if only just. My joints don't ache, but they are starting to creak, and when I jump on the trampoline I feel like every organ under my bellybutton is going to fall out on the next bounce.
Mom is in her early (very early) 60's. She walks just like her dad and LOVES doing things for her grandkids she NEVER would've done for us. Like make certain that there is a candy dish within reach in every single room. And telling them not to bother picking up the toys. And they LOVE her back.
On the days that are hardest on my morale for being a mother, and I find myself wondering what's in it for me, I have to remember that every adult with grandchildren says that being a parent is only the work you have to do to be able to reach the penultimate joy. Which is SPOILING ROTTEN all your grandchildren.
Just look how happy they are in that chaos. I guarantee that if those were all their own squirrelly boys and unsmiling daughter, not sitting still and smiling nicely for a photo, they wouldn't have been nearly as giddy. There is a good reason I still shudder when I hear "Olan Mills" or "family pictures".
But we are SO BLESSED they are here.
Two years ago, on December 3rd a little after 6pm (and about 2 minutes after my sister and brother-in-law had picked up their two little boys), two men came to the door. Dad, thinking it was Mom coming home from Bible Study (she was already 15 minutes late), went to the door to meet her. Two men entered armed with pistols, pushed him to the floor and held him at gunpoint for nearly 20 minutes while they searched the house for someone they thought was hiding there. As they left, one said, "Don't move." Dad waited for the bang that would end his life on this earth.
But the gunshot didn't come.
The men left. Dad waited, still, about 60 seconds before running up the stairs and picked up the phone to call 911. At that moment, Mom walked in.
According to police reports, this was the only breaking and entering that year which did not end in someone getting shot and killed.
We are lucky in so many ways. There are many times that I have felt that divergence in what could have been and what is within the last few years. I've realized that, many times, our lives become as defined by what almost happened as by what has happened.
Dad said that, while the men were yelling and threatening him, he knew he was being held in God's hand. He felt God's indescribable presence, the "peace that passes all understanding." He knew that no matter how that night ended, he was being held in the hands of One bigger and more complete and more whole than any of us can ever be.
There is an awful lot that I think I believe. Some of it very strongly. But there are only two things I know. I know that there is so much more out there that we cannot see or study or understand. And I know that, when our souls leave this limiting body, one of the only things we can take with us is love. Not romantic love or happy love or content love, although it may be all of those things, too. God-love, Peace-love, Whole-Love. That love that we can only get from one Source and that cannot be completely understood in this life.
And every time I think about how frustrating my kids can be in any given moment, I think about how much my parents have impacted my kids, and how much my grandparents have impacted me, and I pray that I can be that for my grandchildren someday, too.
Someday.
Now I'm 36. And most days, I don't feel too bad, but I'm starting to see new wrinkles and my skin is turning papery in certain places, if only just. My joints don't ache, but they are starting to creak, and when I jump on the trampoline I feel like every organ under my bellybutton is going to fall out on the next bounce.
Mom is in her early (very early) 60's. She walks just like her dad and LOVES doing things for her grandkids she NEVER would've done for us. Like make certain that there is a candy dish within reach in every single room. And telling them not to bother picking up the toys. And they LOVE her back.
On the days that are hardest on my morale for being a mother, and I find myself wondering what's in it for me, I have to remember that every adult with grandchildren says that being a parent is only the work you have to do to be able to reach the penultimate joy. Which is SPOILING ROTTEN all your grandchildren.
But we are SO BLESSED they are here.
Two years ago, on December 3rd a little after 6pm (and about 2 minutes after my sister and brother-in-law had picked up their two little boys), two men came to the door. Dad, thinking it was Mom coming home from Bible Study (she was already 15 minutes late), went to the door to meet her. Two men entered armed with pistols, pushed him to the floor and held him at gunpoint for nearly 20 minutes while they searched the house for someone they thought was hiding there. As they left, one said, "Don't move." Dad waited for the bang that would end his life on this earth.
But the gunshot didn't come.
The men left. Dad waited, still, about 60 seconds before running up the stairs and picked up the phone to call 911. At that moment, Mom walked in.
According to police reports, this was the only breaking and entering that year which did not end in someone getting shot and killed.
We are lucky in so many ways. There are many times that I have felt that divergence in what could have been and what is within the last few years. I've realized that, many times, our lives become as defined by what almost happened as by what has happened.
Dad said that, while the men were yelling and threatening him, he knew he was being held in God's hand. He felt God's indescribable presence, the "peace that passes all understanding." He knew that no matter how that night ended, he was being held in the hands of One bigger and more complete and more whole than any of us can ever be.
There is an awful lot that I think I believe. Some of it very strongly. But there are only two things I know. I know that there is so much more out there that we cannot see or study or understand. And I know that, when our souls leave this limiting body, one of the only things we can take with us is love. Not romantic love or happy love or content love, although it may be all of those things, too. God-love, Peace-love, Whole-Love. That love that we can only get from one Source and that cannot be completely understood in this life.
And every time I think about how frustrating my kids can be in any given moment, I think about how much my parents have impacted my kids, and how much my grandparents have impacted me, and I pray that I can be that for my grandchildren someday, too.
Someday.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
This one guy I know . . .
When I was twenty, I decided I would probably not get married.
It wasn't that I don't like guys, I just didn't see most guys as marriage and commitment material. While some of my gal friends would be ogling at the eye candy, I was seeing Mr. Unreliable under that six-pack and chiseled jaw.
Perhaps some of it had to do with nursing school, and knowing that even the best bodies succumb to the wisdom advice of wrinkles; the strongest arms decide that it's better to be able to wave the bat-wings at one's best friend instead of hefting weights until those biceps are shiny.
Besides.
I'm not the easiest person to live with. You can ask my sister, whom I shared a room with for most of my growing up; or my cousin, whom I challenged for the alpha-bitch status every time our parents got together to try to have an adult conversation. (I can say that because she is now one of the three people who I tell my secrets to.)
Or you can ask this one guy I know.
The truth is, he makes my world go 'round.
He cooks almost every night, and usually ends up cleaning up, too. He makes sure the house is clean when we have guests coming over. He makes sure we all have clean underpants when I get lazy. He is starting to get gray at the temples, which is distinguished-looking, and he looks best when his hair is all mussed first thing in the morning--especially if he is holding one of the kids.
There are only about three things he can't do:
1. Sing
Just trust me.
2. Drive slowly
to anywhere in town. He does ok on the open road.
3. Be diplomatic
He will tell it like it is. Especially if you are being an idiot.
Other than that, he can literally do anything. He's better at changing diapers, getting a crying baby to sleep, cooking, making excellent adult beverages, gardening, decorating, yard work, fixing things, putting Transformers back together--just to name a few--than I will ever be.
Mom once told me, "Lisa, when you find Mr. Right, you'll be engaged long enough to order the flowers. Maybe."
She knows me well.
When Clay and I met, I told him I wasn't interested and, while I was happy to comply with being a climbing partner, dating was O-U-T. Once I finally conceded that maybe I kinda sorta could be persuaded to be a little bit interested, we dated for three whole months.
Then I asked him (Yes. I asked him. You read correctly.) to marry me, and the rest is history.
I love this guy.
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