Everyone Has Someone To Mourn With!

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Last time I talked about mourning together with the group.

I also talked about coyotes, but let’s face it, we all know I just made that stuff up. You should never trust stuff you read on the internet, anyway!

Except this post, of course.

So I spoke to my friend this week about her experiences mourning together in community.

The only problem is that she has read some of this blog once and so if I talked about what she said, I would have to tell the truth.

I’ll stick to my own experience.

So last week I was a blathering mess at church.

This was embarrassing, even for me, but the cool thing is that I didn’t have to purposefully stop the flow.

Imagine you’re in a room and the God of the universe (who exists) commands everyone in that room to love you. And they try their best to obey God (in our pathetic, limited, human way).

That’s what church is supposed to be like actually. We can bring whatever emotion is tagging along behind us and we don’t have to hide it. Sometimes we may need to cry and that’s OK. They have to love you!

Sometimes just sensing the presence of God in communal worship is what starts the tears.

And when we finally open our hearts to God and allow one disappointment to surface, don’t you find that a geyser opens up within us sometimes? There is a lot of other stuff that probably should be released as well.

And just letting some of that stuff emerge is actually healing.

That’s the irony. There is an opportunity for healing to occur if we can just stop holding it together for a few minutes, stop sucking in our guts, and stop pretending our real life matches our online persona (I’m not as neurotic and whiny in person as I seem online of course!).

I accidentally caught his eye -the guy at church I don’t know super well. But his look of empathy towards me, of real empathy, even as he tried to hide his gaze, was enough to open up the cracks on some more layers of disappointment that needed to be released.

Keep a sharp eye out for weeds of bitter discontent. A thistle or two gone to seed can ruin a whole garden in no time. The Message

Sometimes what comes out, weaved into the tapestry of stuff that has wounded our hearts over the years is bitterness and disappointment towards God.

He is standing there, ready with a towel to dry off all the tears that are soaking you. He already knows how you feel. He is so happy that you’re finally bringing who you are, and letting him comfort you.

You can rest in his arms now, like a child sitting on their mother’s lap, clinging to her, and receiving comfort somehow.

It’s going to be OK little one, he whispers to your ear.

I’ve got you now.

As you listen quietly to the song below, may you open up your heart to God, and may you find comfort, dear one.

Mourning Together With Coyotes Is Healthy

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

My dog is smarter than he looks.

I mean, he doesn’t look that smart when the fire engine or the coyotes are howling outside, and our dog howls along with them.

Does he not know he is not a fire truck? Or a coyote?

But he is definitely smarter than he looks.

For example, once on a walk, I suddenly heard coyotes howling very close to us. (There is a real world outside of LA where actual trees and flowers exist!).

I quickly grabbed onto his leash. I was certain my fluffy mini-golden doodle would head for the middle of the pack and howl along with them, making his dog dreams a reality (Being called a “doodle” is never cool in coyote society. Being called “fluffy” doesn’t help either. Or “mini.”)

But instead, tail between his legs, he hunkered down and ran home, me stumbling along behind him.

When we got safely inside, and he was protected by a locked door, he opened his mouth wide, and howled in freedom, just one of the pack.

He somehow knew that the coyotes would eat him if they got a chance. But that didn’t stop him from also knowing that mourning with others is healthy.

I feel the same way actually.

I know I will never be accepted into a pack of coyotes.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to learn to mourn, to lament in my community with the freedom of a coyote.

“. . . weep with those who weep” Ancient Text

You may think you’ve heard coyotes wail because you watched a John Wayne movie once, but the lamenting, prolonged howl of a group of coyotes is really nothing like that.

Coyotes send shivers down your spine when you hear them mournfully wailing.

You kind of think they’ll shut up after a few minutes but they don’t. It can go on for hours, sometimes in the middle of the day.

“What in the world are they crying about?” I finally wondered.

Coyotes mourn in packs in the fall, when a younger coyote sets off on his own. (I read that on the internet*.)

And so this is what we can learn from coyotes:

1. They mourn together as a group and out loud.

2. They mourn about one thing, and then gracefully interweave their sadness to other stuff that is also breaking their little hearts. (Give me a break here – I know we can’t read the minds of coyotes, but this is my interpretation of what they’re saying. Do you have a better idea of what coyotes think about when they mourn in the fall? No, I thought not!)

3. This grieving process helps them. I mean most of the time coyotes are pretty well-adjusted, right? 50% of them are not sucking back Prozac or the equivalent, like us humans. Maybe we can learn from them.

I’ll explain what we can learn next time.

* Scientific Information Source

The Nature Conservancy: “There’s also a lot of contradictory information – and complete nonsense – written about coyotes.”

Blogpost Footnotes

No! I’m not a coyote-ologist or whatever that’s called. No! I’ve never even studied coyotes. Why do you ask?

Oh! I did read a really funny Canadian classic book once called Never Cry Wolf, and wolves are sort of like coyotes, I think. Does that count?

Anyway, I know the next blog post outlining what I’ve learned from coyotes will help you.

You’re welcome!

Good luck!

Everyone Can Find Their Best Friend On The Internet!

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

More and more people like me! What I mean, of course, is that some of my posts have gotten “likes”! That means you like me, right? I tried to “like” your “like” of my post to show you that I like you, too. My daughter, who is all Wise, because she, like all teenagers, has exceptional skills at “liking” things, says you can’t like someone’s “like”. I did “like” my own post once, which says that I like myself, I think, which is not unrelated.

What was I saying? Oh, yes! You seem to like me!! And since you like me, that means you are my friend!!

And since you are my friend, that means that I can call you at 2 AM when I can’t sleep so you can listen to my (real or perceived) problems! That’s what friends do, right?

So can you please send me your phone number? Thanks.

(Oh, and you want my phone number, so I can listen to you? Whaat?) Since so many people spend time liking me, you can’t expect me to have any time to listen to your problems!

This is a one-way street and I like it that way. Thank you very much.

(Wow. People are so needy nowadays.)

Seriously, members of this blog (so far, just me) meet to pray and listen to each other, and there may be someone who also attends one of these meetings, who is outward-focused enough to listen to (some) of your neuroses, IF we’ve spent enough time working through the nuances of my neuroses, of course.

You’re welcome!

. . . speak encouraging words to one another. Build up hope so you’ll all be together in this, no one left out, no one left behind. The Message

Seriously, (and this is the real Lori Lawe speaking, not the super neurotic persona I use as the voice of this blog. Why is that voice coming out of me when I write anyway??) Huh. Anyway… As mentioned here, distraction can sometimes solve our problems, but when that doesn’t work, Jesus is waiting, patiently, like a true friend waiting for you, to listen to you at a coffee shop even though you’re late again. He longs to hear what’s on your heart.

whisper . . .

And may you find the best friend ever, maybe even on the internet, friend.

Three Keys To Transitioning Gracefully To Life’s Next Season

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

In the last post, I said I would offer advice for how to transition gracefully to life’s next season.

I forgot to actually say something that would help you in that post. Hey, I never promised I would say something useful! The fine print in the Terms and Conditions of this blog was purposefully crafted to avoid high expectations. Wow! People expect so much nowadays!

But I’m not very good at following rules so I thought I’d actually say something useful in this post. Here goes:

Ahem… Clearing throat

Three Keys to Transition Gracefully to Life’s Next Season

Let’s take some pointers from this ancient text:

Forget about what’s happened; don’t keep going over old history. Be alert, be present. I’m about to do something brand-new. It’s bursting out! Don’t you see it? The Message

1. Forget the old. Stop whining because your kid got a bit older, you don’t have babies anymore, or you hit another milestone birthday. I mean, get over it! Are you going to whine forever just because your kid moved out? (Yes, I do find that I process my thoughts through writing so yes, I am counseling myself right now.)

2. Ask God to remove your blinders so you can see the new thing. For example, who is the new person God may be asking you to serve? One year, while I was praying, Jesus showed me a picture of me washing the feet of one of my children.

Having loved his dear companions, [Jesus] continued to love them right to the end . . .So he got up from the supper table, set aside his robe, and put on an apron. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the feet of the disciples, drying them with his apron. The Message

Help her, Jesus seemed to be silently imploring my heart.

This year, I have a specific homeschooling goal.

You know your goal is from God, by the way, if it’s too big for you to successfully accomplish on your own. He always gives us goals that are too big for us to carry alone, so we will cry out for Him to help us. He wants to walk together with us through every step of life.

The third tip to allow excellence in transitioning to life’s next season doesn’t come from the ancient text written above but is extrapolated from this blog post. (I guess I did say something useful in that blog post! Who knew!)

3. Be thankful you’re alive (I.e., I mean, you’re not dead today!)

I find that this attitude solves 99% of my First World Problems.

If you haven’t heard of First World Problems or FWP, check out this video (produced by nigahiga).

I’m sorry if these problems describe one of your biggest challenges!

(I know, I know! I had to go for counseling after watching this video too!)

Anyway, good luck!

I hope that helps!

You’re welcome!

Gracefully Transitioning To Life’s Seasons?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I wrote a post about sending our first kid off to college last time.

If you haven’t read it yet, I’ll summarize it for you:

Whiny, whiny, boo-hoo, cry, send our kid away… boring, boring.

But this is the thing that really bothers me, as I think about it a bit more.

It’s not really fair that just when our kids become helpful we send them away.

I mean think about it for a minute. Kids come out of the womb as little Machiavellis. I can give an example from my own life. Before one of my kids could speak she was bossing me around.

“How?” you ask.

We had taught her sign language and she knew about four words. She knew how to say “I love you” and she knew how to say “Milk”. We were teaching her to ask for what she needed. This is good. But we didn’t expect a little tyrant to emerge.

For example, when I walked into her room in the morning she didn’t gaze up at me with loving, thankful eyes and ask for some milk with a smile.

Her face screwed into a scowl, she was standing and angrily clenching both fists, glaring at us, and non-verbally (effectively) yelling the sign for milk.

“WHERE is the hired help?!” her nonverbal cues were sending us. Clearly, we weren’t measuring up to her expectations. And we were only two months in on this parenting journey. (OK maybe it took her longer than two months to become a tyrant but not much more than that.)

And compare that to now. I mean homeschooling teenagers can cook! And they know how to do the dishes!

Why would we get rid of them now?

I think parents should form a union.

We should demand that homeschooled teenagers stay with us forever. They should be massaging our feet and feeding us grey poupon (Do you swallow that stuff whole?) after all the blood, sweat, and tears we poured into them.

If people do need to change and mature over time, then I think that after we’ve had our homeschooled, helpful kids and teens for a long time, then sure, they can change back into babies.

Then we can send them away because we’re losing the unhelpful babies and not the helpful teens.

Wait. What’s that you say? God already designed the universe that way?

Ah!!! I guess you are right!

When God gave teenagers parents, he designed the parents to do just that. Parents are helpful to their teens, and then the parents are the ones that mature into essentially incoherent, helpless babies again.

Ah!!! 

I didn’t think of that!

Maybe it’s all about perspective!? I’m alive today!

This is a good day!

I don’t mind that my helpful, kind, sweet daughter went off to university!

The way the universe works is just fine, come to think of it!

Go away!

If I’m not poised halfway between land and sky, about ready for them to shovel earth on top of me, then this is a great day!

It’s amazing that being grateful that we’re alive is a balm to so many of our problems!

I think I’ll see if my husband wants to learn English country dancing with me now that my daughter has left for university.

We have some extra time.

What a perfect world we live in!

(. . . But if distraction isn’t a perfect solution for you either . . .

As you try desperately to hang onto the rope as you swing through the seasons of life, you could cling to God by praying through the lyrics of this song: “I’m here traveling down this long and winding road. Seasons come, seasons go . . . But I’m still standing on the only rock I know.”)

Every Homeschooling Parent Will Be Ready To Wave Goodbye To Their Teen

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

I’m mad at you! At all of you with a child more than 17 years old who left home! I hate you all! Why didn’t you tell me it would be this hard to say goodbye when they left for college!?

And all of you with babies too, babies that are older than my oldest baby, I hate you all too! Before we had babies, why didn’t you tell us that looking after babies would be so hard!?

Ah, yes . . .

It is because we wouldn’t have believed you even if you would have spoken up.

And if our teens truly understood the depth of our loss, many of these kids wouldn’t leave home. They are good kids. I relayed these thoughts to my husband, processing them aloud through my tears.

“And we want them to leave,” I cried out. “Yes, we do,” my husband comforted. Then he shoots me a sideways, knowing look. I remembered that this morning our teen was definitely right when she was definitely wrong and instead of bursting into tears, I burst into laughter.

I feel some joy mixed with some sorrow.

And so, “Goodbye!” we say as we wave. Except it’s not kindergarten they are heading off to on a bus. We homeschooled so we missed that milestone. It’s 600 km away and the tearing, the necessary, painful cleaving continues.

Reflecting God’s nature He created them male and female. . . Therefore, a man leaves his father and mother . . . The Message

I told you it would be that way, Jesus reminds me softly. Many years earlier, in prayer, Jesus showed me a picture of my daughters, one after the other, ready to board a plane, to soar off on their journeys of independence. He was preparing my heart to say goodbye many years ago, even then.

Many of us homeschooling parents pushed the love boundary of our hearts a little further than expected when we cracked open those brand new math texts on day one of homeschooling.

The depth of love surprises us all, and surpasses the boundary markers we set up to protect ourselves.

If we love what we know, then we will get to know these kids and our love for them will transform us, them. Love always does.

I’m not saying that homeschooling is one domino after the other of perfect days. I have homeschooled for 4,745 days (I’m convinced you don’t have enough math skills to figure out how many years I have spent homeschooling- Who does?). Out of all those days, I have NEVER yet had one perfect day.

Nope. Not one.

Just daily joy mixed with daily sorrow.

Master storyteller J.R.R. Tolkien explains it this way:

The possibility of [sorrow and failure] is necessary to the joy of deliverance . . . giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief.

And so saying goodbye to the teen as she flies off to college is just another homeschooling day: some joy mixed with some sorrow. We are used to that. We’ve gotten stronger over the years. It’s just another part of the daily homeschooling rhythm.

We will be ready because we have been practicing every day for this: some joy and some sorrow, repeat tomorrow.

We’re going to be OK.

And so as we watch them soar, we nurse our grief a little, and then flap our baby wings and listen for the call from Him into a new adventure.

And in the same way that we invest in our future by putting aside a few dollars each month, is He asking us to invest in our spiritual future by putting aside a few minutes each day to listen to Him calling us, comforting us, asking us to set aside the old, and to pick up the new?

How is he calling you to wake up?

Where to next God?

I can’t quite fly yet but I am sensing another adventure.

Yes, I’ll follow!

(How about you?)

How to Have A Well-Watered Spiritual Backyard

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

Is it just me or does anyone else find this sign hilarious? If you look carefully at the background, the thought does come to my mind that perhaps this isn’t the best place to advertise for a lush lawn and consistent irrigation. And how is our our backyard measuring up, before we spout off to others the ways we can help?

When are we speaking confidently, forcefully, as if we know what we are talking about when we should be getting out our ears, polishing them up a little, turning up the volume and re-affixing them so that their input can reach our brains?

When do I take off my ears and loud mouth when I should be asking questions? This is the question that the photo above blares at me, as if through a loudspeaker.

Today, in the prayer meeting, she mentioned how we can have the equivalent of pebbles in our shoes. Little annoyances that after we have been walking for a long, long time without a reset, will significantly impede our journeys.

Is it time for a rest? Time to allow another to listen to us, to lean against them as we rest, to catch our balance, and to remove the rock from our shoe, so that we can walk straight again?

Is it time to stop figuring out how to carry another’s burdens, and to relieve our hearts to a trusted friend?

I took her up on her offer and prayed aloud the concern that had been nagging at my heart. Not an earth-shattering prayer, no. Nothing about world peace, or global reform. Just a little concern about someone I love that has been weighing me down.

A pebble in my shoe.

And she took care of it. Gave me some clean socks in her prayer that echoed my heart. A few tears were shed. She offered me some water from her canteen.

We continued our journeys, her and I, each one travelling our own way, down slightly different paths. Our paths will merge again, and reconnect, but perhaps not until the next prayer meeting.

But until next time, next week, I got a little rest.

I felt better somehow, as we joined our heads and hearts together to pray about our unwatered lawns and shabby-looking backyards. It’s ok. God is growing a garden there, and he wants to grow flowers in the gardens of the people that we encounter, as well, as we are honest with others about our desolate backyards.

And I was comforted to remember the way to fix a broken irrigation system, a dry or non-existent lawn. The solution is to grab hold of a friend’s hand and to pray together, over that dry spot. To keep holding on when she shows you a dry area in her lawn.

To stop and pray together for a while, that the rains will come before we travel our own paths.

Sure beats trying to hide the truth, which is obvious to all who look carefully at my life, anyway.

An Encouragement: What is the ULTIMATE Homeschool Rhythm?

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

I was sipping a summer drink, my shoulders draped with a blanket. I can’t QUITE bring myself to wear a sweater yet, but the leaves of fall are dropping, reminding me with the cool breeze that the days of summer are ending.

I found myself pondering the successes and challenges of the past homeschooling year, hoping that the total number of wins outscored the total number of defeats.

Then I took a fresh page, another sip of my iced drink, and pondered the coming year.

There is a certain RHYTHM to homeschooling, as there is a RHYTHM to the best things of life: summer-fall-winter-spring, or sunrise-daytime-sunset.

What is the ULTIMATE homeschool rhythm?

After much strategic thinking, erasing, and pulling from my wisdom of X years (I will NEVER admit I homeschooled THAT LONG!) of homeschooling, I think the ultimate rhythm goes something like this:

1) Read good books aloud to our children.

2) Focus on the relationship with each child. Talk to and listen to them.

3) Spend a 1/2 hour yelling at them and watching them cry during “math”.

And that’s it!

The ULTIMATE life of a homeschooler!

Repeat tomorrow!

By the way, both of my kids made it to high school math (pat on the back for me please). I’m thinking there are a LOT of martinis I’ve earned and saved for getting them that far.

Well done, mom, dad! You made it through math today! (Don’t have a martini yet – I was just joking).

Or maybe it’s not math but insert-monster-of-choice-here: toilet training, setting limits on technology, grammar, drawing lessons. (True story. One of my friend’s kids cried every time the art supplies emerged).

We all have our own battles but you get it.

On reflecting a bit more after writing this out (I process my thoughts via writing – thank you for reading and therefore helping me to think more clearly) I think the conclusive ALL ENCOMPASSING homeschool rhythm is the following:

1. Kids are trying to drive us crazy, to lose our sanity. This is called “sanctification” to us. It’s good for you (albeit eventually).

2. Don’t let them.

3. Bake cookies with them, or declare Pajama Day and watch a movie and eat popcorn with them.

4. Repeat.

(5. My editor keeps trying to delete this next one – I don’t know why!) When your kids are about to leave home, drink all the martinis you didn’t have on every bad homeschooling day. (And let’s admit it, there were a lot of bad days).

OK! OK! I won’t include that one!

My editor reminds me that I am in a sort of grieving process as my oldest child is getting ready to leave the nest and fly off to University.

Whole can of crazy is down there in my heart, waiting to get stirred up.

Well – ENOUGH writing for today! I’m fine!!!

Encouragement For When You Can’t Take Another Step Down Homeschooling Road

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

“You. You have nice kids.” People say this to us. Often. And this is what I want to reply: If you put plants in partially acidic soil and leave them there, they will grow but not to their full height. They won’t blossom with flowers of kindness. They are hunkering down, in survival mode.

If you want your plants to thrive, you need to put them in well-aerated soil of the proper pH. How much kindness is in the soil that your kids are stuck in?

Then we pull our little plants out of that soil and stick them in other soil with just as low of a pH or perhaps even more acidic. Time for hockey culture and dance practice. We wonder why they are withering, skinny characters blown by the wind into an awkward shape. We wonder why they are so fragile, so easily broken, with so little inner strength to stand against the wind, in joy.

It’s the soil. The rocky, sandy, paltry soil.

And the truth is, dumping manure on our plants is a hard job, that makes us sweat and that only seems to make the problem worse. The plants scream in protest. It burns.

But as we hold their hand, bring water on a cloth to cool their foreheads and to pour on the plant, the water seeps, bringing much-needed nutrients to their roots. They taste of your love, your love tinged with your sweat and your blood, and the water fills their small, malnourished bellies and satiates.

Your sacrifice is what is encouraging them to flourish.

And when little flowers of kindness bloom on your child, you can lean in close, smell the fragrance and let the rich scent soothe your soul.

Well done, homeschooling Mom, Dad.

And when our child graduates from high school or from our homeschool, that is the time to put our feet up and rest, not years earlier.

So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. The Message

And now, brush off your knees where you skinned them when you fell, wipe your eyes, dear homeschooling parent, and let’s take another step, Jesus holding your arm to steady you.

You’ve got this.

Let’s take it one year, one day at a time, shall we? Where is Jesus leading you next?

Blogpost Footnotes

Homeschooling is one of the many ways to pour water of kindness onto the parched soil our kids are trying to grow in. What are some other ways?

God Spoke Through You And You Didn’t Notice?

/ Lori Lawe / Leave a comment

It was amazing. God is soo amazing! I mean, why COULDN’T He use other people, even, yes, STRANGERS to speak to us, if we have ears to hear?

This is what happened.

I had been working on growing to LOVE reading my bible, not blowing dust off the cover, reading it for 90 seconds, slamming it shut, and flicking YouTube back on. How do we LOVE to read our bibles?

One mentor suggested that AS I read a few verses of ancient text that feel particularly FRESH in this season to pause and ask God what He may be saying as I read.

For example, I was meditating on Psalm 139. This is the Psalm describing how God made each one of us with SUCH exquisite care. “Do you have anything else You want to say about how You made me?” I asked him.

I saw a picture in my mind of Jesus making a pot of soup, and adding a dash of this spice, a dash of that.

I am the soup that Jesus was making.

He is the master chef, knowing just how much spice a dish needs to be delicious.

My mentor suggested that I ask Jesus more specifically, “What are the spices you put into my soup?”

He said basil was one of the spices.

Kind of an ordinary spice.

I thought I must have heard incorrectly. Didn’t he mean SAFFRON or maybe something a bit more exotic? Nope. I asked Him again that afternoon.

Basil.

I felt that I should learn a bit more about basil, just in case I was hearing from God correctly, so I typed that keyword into Wikipedia.

I didn’t know this but basil is used by the Greek Orthodox Church to make holy water.

Purify my church, He seemed to be saying.

Not quite sure how to do that except perhaps to speak truth about the absurd in church culture. And perhaps He was encouraging me in my various roles of prayer and ministry?

The next day I was at the grocery store, and a customer one foot away from me asked the clerk about basil. She was yelling.

“You don’t have any basil?“ She was incredulous.

“I’ve been to every store in town and there is no basil anywhere!”

“Are we in a basil shortage?”

Now, there are lots of other foods to eat in our culture, praise God. But this woman REALLY WANTED basil. She pondered aloud with her daughter what they would do about the Thai wraps they were supposed to make that night.

I felt that God was speaking to my heart, that what I carry is a unique gift to the world. Something that others want.

Kind of like basil on the night you are making Thai wraps.

Kind of like the gift God put inside of you.

“The key to our identity is if we can love ourselves . . . If we know we are loved, then we have something to give others.” Steve Chua

Are you transparent enough that others can see your basil when they are searching high and low for it?

What gift that the world needs is lurking deep inside of you stuck behind layers of fear? Ask Holy Spirit to whisper what the next step is to reveal this. He’ll give you a shovel and help you dig it out.