God Encourages Us To Complete The Triathlon?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

While my back still felt like an old lady’s, when I had to yell up at people so they could hear me as I spoke to their waist, hunched over, I announced I would do a triathlon.

“Well . . . if I can walk, I will do a triathlon,” I clarified.

This annoying back problem has GOT to get better someday, right?

And it did get better, praise be to God.

It didn’t help that the little kid I was playing with at the family dinner jumped on my back in a fit of fun.

My community gathered around me that same night and cared for me, lifting me to God in prayer.

My back felt better after that night than it had in a long, long time.

So, yup, time to do a triathlon.

I didn’t have as much time to train as I had intended, but I thought the bike part was about 10 km?

I was shocked as I picked up my bib the day before the race to learn that the bike part was 20 km. Could my back even handle being on a bike that long?

My husband coached me, like a parent coaching a small child. I needed some direction. “Now remember,” he said slowly, “You have your goals in the wrong order.” He coached me by holding up a finger for each goal. “The most important goal is not to get hurt,” he said. I had relegated that goal to Goal #3. He was right.

But in the pool, I felt God nudging me to swim faster (!). What does God care about an obscure triathlon where a bunch of fairly fit middle-aged people do their exercises?

(There were actually some young and very fit people there who definitely upped the cool factor of the race. Just sayin’. I’m sure I would have beaten John in the race to Jesus’ tomb too. Just sayin’. Not that that matters OF COURSE, but for those who are interested, I thought you should know).

Then I realized that God was speaking to me during this triathlon because God cares about everything we do. We can’t relegate Jesus to an hour on Sunday. Everything is an opportunity to grow closer to Him, if we can find our ears and screw them on.

Maybe there was a lesson here too, while completing this triathlon, that He wanted to nail through my thick skull, a lesson that wouldn’t sink into my brain any other way, perhaps.

And I went further and faster than I thought I could.

. . . THAN I THOUGHT I COULD.

How else are we limiting ourselves with what God wants to do through us?

What race is God asking you to enter that is too far for you to go, or that you are too slow to finish?

Are your ears lying on the floor, too?

Samuel took his flask of oil and anointed [David, the shepherd boy, as king], with his brothers standing around, watching. The Spirit of God entered David like a rush of wind, God vitally empowering him for the rest of his life. The Message

Ways that God may be trying to wake us, trying to translate His words into a language we can understand, trying to encourage us to pick up our ears, screw them on, and listen to His vision for our lives will be discussed in the next post.

Is Holy Spirit Attempting to Waken You?

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

Yeah, so I might have had a small touch of fear now and then over my lifetime.

OK, let’s admit it. Fear is paralyzing me, my constant friend.

Jesus walks over to me, crouches in the corner next to me, and offers me His arm. It is time to stand. I rise on quaking legs.

He is asking me to run. He hangs back, crouching down low to whisper in my ear as I hide in the fetal position. Time to run, His eyes bid. He gazes in the direction He wants me to travel.

I pull the covers over my head. I am trying to go back to sleep.

Wake, wake, dear one. He whispers. He is shaking me, gently. Wake up.

And so the decision rests in my heart. Will I get up, rub my half-seeing eyes and stand into the new thing that God is calling me to?

Or will I put in earplugs to distance myself from the sound of Jesus’ voice and go back to sleep?

The choice is mine. The choice is yours. What is your heart’s reply?

One day He asked me to run into a cooking adventure. The result freed my daughter from expectations around various diagnoses that tried to pin her down.

One day He threw me into the deep end of the spiritual swimming pool. I awoke more fully with the splash of water and have been swimming more deeply, in a spiritual sense, since that day.

One day He asked me to homeschool, again, another year. This was many years after I thought I would change my apron for a real job, one that actually pays money in exchange for work. A job that is recognized culturally as actually “doing” something worthwhile.

I left my career identity by the side of the road and followed Jesus down a narrower path to homeschool longer, my inexperienced feet aching from the journey of following Him.

I had wanted to go back to sleep then, too. To rest in the comforting mold of what regular people do. Go to work. Put their kids in school.

And yet, maybe He is using our unappreciated homeschooling journeys to bring hope to society.

He woke me again this morning, early. Write, my dear one, write, He whispered.

Are you the one that I am writing for?

Are you, like me, also beginning to wake up?

In your drowsy state, do you sense He is trying to waken you, too?

Are you being awakened to pour more of your life into your children, to grow, grow, grow in hearing His voice, to a creative endeavour, too?

To something else?

If so, welcome to the adventure of a lifetime of following Jesus!

He walks ahead of you, bidding you to follow.

Will you trust Him enough to join Him on His journey for your life?

If we can leave our fear behind, the journey is exhilarating.

This is what God says . . . “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

Holy Spirit, help us to be able to hear You when You call us to a new thing. May we be brave enough to follow You. After a few moments of quietly listening for the voice of God as the song below plays, ask Jesus, “What direction do you want me to travel in this next season? What needs to be left behind?”

The Way To Fight Climate Change is To Eat Beef (Seriously)

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

I was looking around me, trying to figure out how to save the world.

We’ve got some problems, right?

“Tick Season” and “Wildfire Season” are the terns that replace what we used to simply call “Spring” and “Summer”.

The warmer winters allow ticks to flourish, and weird weather events are seen all over the world with increased regularity.

So how do we solve these problems, I wanted to know, as I took another bite of my snack and continued to half-watch my favorite iPad distraction.

One list of ways to curb climate change helpfully included “Turn off lights” as a to-do item.

“Come on! The world is falling apart and you are harping about turning off lights?” I thought incredulously.

OK – what are the MOST important things that we can be doing to reverse climate change?

I don’t have a lot of time here. The commercial is almost over.

It turns out, that the best thing we can do is to eat beef.

Now, two caveats:

(1) I didn’t say that we should eat MORE beef.

(2) I didn’t specify what KIND of beef we should eat.

We should eat LESS beef. For sure. Your hearts and knees will thank you. We should cut up that beef into TINY strips and use it to add flavoring to our stir fries, for example. But we should EAT beef.

We should ONLY eat ONE kind of beef. The kind that costs more money. But if we do point number one, above, and eat LESS beef as well to give our overtaxed bodies a break, we still come out ahead, financially. And we can enjoy a side of ultra-cheap beans with every meal, which will make our bodies happy too.

Anyway, having extra money to buy more plastic items that will break next week is one of the idols of our culture, enslaving us. But that is a conversation for another day.

Now, I finally get to the point:

Eat only beef that has been regeneratively farmed.

Yes, a big word for the end of a short blog post.

Check out this movie for a summary of this movement or wait for a future post for a detailed explanation.

Kiss the Ground

What are your thoughts?

Cowering In Fear Or Ready To Fight?

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

Yeah, I’ve been cowering in fear as mentioned here and here.

But we’re made to soar, our Heavenly Father, like the wind, buoying up our wings.

But I feel fearful again, this morning.

How do we keep Fear at bay, in its corner of the ring, instead of on top of me, rendering me immobile?

Learning about what we fear helps. I learned that alligators need water to survive and that annihilated my childhood fear of these animals living under my bed. (Don’t judge me). In the same way, in a future post, I will talk about how my raging Fear was soothed as I learned from scientists studying wildfire behavior.

Scientists have also learned* that if we exert some (even very minimal) level of control over stressful situations, our stress levels decrease dramatically. Translation: DOING something, even a very small thing about the stuff that bothers us makes us feel a WHOLE lot better. Fear stays on its own side of the wrestling ring for a while.

And so I got on my bike, put on my superwoman cape, delivered flyers, and our neighborhood became Firesmart.

But then as I watched the news one day, Fear grew and its shadow threatened to overwhelm me again.

No!

And so I act, again, I DO something to battle my Fear.

I write this post.

Talking about climate has been compared to having flatulence at a cocktail party.

And dwelling on Fear is only another way to drag more of us into the ring, with Fear immobilizing all of us.

NO!

What are you DOING to fight Fear?

Every action we take is food that we offer to our neighbors, strengthening them.

Let’s share our food together, feeding and encouraging one another.

What are you doing or is another doing that is food to strengthen you, to pick up your boxing gloves, and to meet with Fear head-on?

Let’s bandage each other’s wounds, offer each other a sip of water and a word of encouragement and then get back in the ring.

Because fighting is how we soar.

Here are a pair of boxing gloves.

Are you ready to put them on?

The counterintuitive, best things we can do to fight the weird weather that ramps up our fear will be discussed in future posts.

Blogpost Footnotes

*Lecture 14: How Your Brain Manages Stress by John J. Medina in Your Best Brain, from The Great Courses

Want To Be A Hero Too?

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

I AM a NEIGHBORHOOD CHAMPION. I AM the COMMITTEE CHAIR. (For those who don’t know, the CHAIR is the TOP, MOST IMPORTANT position on the committee).

Of what, you say?

Well, of this group I volunteer with, the Firesmart program. The goal is to educate people about the most common causes for houses to burn down due to wildfire, and then to focus on doing the most important interventions that decrease the risk of a house going up in flames.

We encourage each other to clean up the downed branches that are fire risks in our community. And of course, with tinder-dry forests where we live, in the BC interior of Canada, it seems the trees are shouting, “Please consume me with fire!”

Many of the cedars are already red, dried up, and sad, living in the arboreal never land between life and death.

But I digress.

The point I was trying to make is that, well, have you ever noticed how manipulation is overtly used in our culture? For example, the assumption is by the Firesmart program that Jane-Neighbor (aka me) would be more likely to spend another X number of hours volunteering if we raise her up a bit in her own eyes.

She is MORE important than others. SHE ALONE is the CHAIR, and my favorite, a CHAMPION. I rode around on my bike last summer delivering flyers with information about the Firesmart program. And now, I can wear a badge, and elevate myself to the lofty level of CHAMPION.

We are all so ridiculous, aren’t we? And by the way, when I throw away the title of Champion or Chair, what do we have left? “Regular Mom worried about her kid’s future”. Somehow that title isn’t as important, we feel. How wrong we are! The secret superpower, the cape under our regular clothes, regular moms, regular dads, is actually of course, concern for the wellbeing of our kids.

Learning what wildfire smoke does to kids’ brains* – that’s my superpower. I would wave my paper fan all day long in front of my kid’s faces . . . desperately . . . untiringly if that would decrease their potential cognitive impacts. I don’t even need the elevated title of CHAIR to do that!

Barring that, I ride on my bike distributing flyers. Maybe my kids and us won’t have to drive away in a car in a hurry this summer, flames licking at our tires. We read about others in Lytton, BC who endured that a few years ago. It would be nice not to do that, actually.

I’d rather just be a regular Mom, reading my book on the wharf at the lake while my kids play in the water.

Instead, I am a super mom, manipulated to feel important. The incredible truth is that “Mom Worried about Her Kids” is a force to be reckoned with. She is the true powerhouse.

Have you ever read about those moms who lifted a car off of their kids when they were in danger? The critical line in that article is that “. . . we humans are, quite simply, stronger than we think.”

Ready to lift the car of a sick culture off of our kids?

Come on, Moms, Dads. It’s time to reluctantly put away the novels, look at the future of our kids 20 years out, and work together to do some lifting. Our kids may be trapped between wildfire smoke and flames licking their tires unless we can find a way to turn this big ship, our culture, around. Time for some real heroes to show their stuff. On board?

For now, we can use our voice here, as one example of taking off our Clark Kent clothes and jumping into the battle. And let’s continue to talk about how to be a real hero in a future post, shall we?

Blogpost Footnotes

*Statement from this article: “A growing body of literature also suggests that exposure to particulate matter may have neuropsychological effects in children, including associations with ADHD, autism, school performance, and memory.”

Why Cleaning Eggs Off The Floor (Aka Homeschooling) Is Hope For Society

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

We attended our city’s annual carnival event. “Get me out of here!”, my brain screamed after only a few minutes.

One of the rides closed after a variety of kids vomited on it. The fair was too hot, too loud, too much garbage overflowing from the cans, junk food at every corner.

If this is one of the highlights of the year for our local kids, as it is for many, no wonder there is so much despair among youth.

We could smell pot as the older kids drifted past us.

If this is as good as it gets for our teens, it’s not very good.

Thankfully one of my kids, and her friend felt the same way.

We drove to a nearby nature park to the “Critter Day” event, to learn about local plants and animals.

It was much quieter. The wind blew through the trees nearby. The sounds were of muffled conversation and some hammers pounding softly as local kids assembled birdhouses.

I was enthralled as a scientist described a local insect that lays its eggs into a host’s body, which the larvae then feed on until it is time to hatch. He showed us the bug’s rear body part that was perfectly designed for this one bizarre behavior.

I was a bit distracted, looking elsewhere, while my daughter and her friend asked questions of the entomologist. They moved on.

“Are your kids homeschooled?” the entomologist asked me. “Huh? Oh yes. That’s my daughter’s friend and she is homeschooled too. Why do you ask?”

“I can always tell who the homeschooled kids are.”

“How?” I asked, intrigued.

“They ask questions and engage at a level of someone who is 40 or 50 years old.

I travel all around and see it time and again,” he continued. “The public school kids say, “Oh, bugs,” and move on, staring into their phones.

The public school kids don’t engage.”

I felt sad. “It’s quite a feat, isn’t it, that the public school system can stamp the love of learning out of children.”*

It dawned on me that this man was a Ph.D. type, definitely overqualified for conversations with Grade 3 kids. He had driven several hours, as a volunteer, to be there.

I was curious about what motivated him, and he unburdened his heart as we spoke.

“I’m really worried about the future of our society,” he continued.

“What do you do with kids who aren’t even engaged? But wherever I go, I find hope in the homeschooled kids. They are the ones asking questions, interested.

I travel to fairs hoping that kids are engaged with their natural world so they will be motivated to find solutions to the immense challenges we are facing as a culture.”

My eyes welled up.

Yes, how do we encourage kids to engage with the wonder of creation, so they may be motivated to protect this incredible biodiversity as unprecedented challenges face our culture?

Perhaps providing hope for our culture is another reason to consider homeschooling.

You got this, Mom, Dad.

Keep being a world changer, Mom, Dad, in your own, hectic, cleaning-eggs-off-the-floor way.

Every homeschooling day you make it through lends a bit more hope to our society.

Blogpost Footnotes

*The public school system is undeniably broken. This TED talk, for example, is the most popular TED talk of all time.

Yes, I Was Mentored By A Random Internet Stranger!?

/ Lori Lawe / 1 Comment

An eagle showed up in my life.

She was drawing out the vile illness from my heart with her questions, green goo surfacing, and I was astonished at the sticky mess dripping off my clothes.

“Yuck! How do you clean up this stuff?” I asked, panicking.

“Why don’t I call you, and we can talk about this some time?” she offered.

My mind swirled.

She was a random internet connection.

Should I open my heart, and the great vulnerability within to a random internet stranger? What was I thinking???

Well, I’ll start with how it all began.

I had a recurring dream for a couple of years. The title of the book that was recommended to me by Amazon matched the title of the dream.

(I didn’t say that this story would be easy to swallow. I only promised the truth).

And no, I had never followed the random inner longings of a dream before.

I discovered Heidi Baker, a missionary in Mozambique through this book, and then was connected with a handful of people who met online weekly to pray about this common spiritual burning that it sensed God was putting on all of our hearts.

From within that group, one of those ladies started a Facebook group, which I joined regularly.

It was in one of those groups that I met Aja, who was now probing my heart with her questions. Goo from the depths that had not surfaced before was now spotting my clothes and I come back to my story – do I meet one-on-one with Aja, or not?

I met with my pastor, spouse, and a handful of trusted friends over iced coffees one sunny summer afternoon to ask their advice.

“I am heading down a spiritual rabbit trail that I don’t know if I will emerge from,” I began.

I shared what we spoke about, the journey that it seemed God was guiding with his large invisible palm, squishing me together with this new group, as so many lumps of clay, joined in the spirit.

I listened to both their wise cautions and their encouragement.

And I met with Aja.

Open your heart, I felt God whispering during that first call, as I spoke with her.

I was surprised.

You’re safe here, He continued to encourage.

And beyond the obvious safeguards that we use by engaging the big ol’ gray matter in the head, such as by asking if I am being encouraged to: (1) read my bible? (2) connect more deeply with my local community (?) (3) connect with the Lord?

Beyond those questions, which were answered with a yes . . .

. . . I was growing spiritually.

My plumage was starting to fill out.

She sat in the chair between Jesus and me and facilitated our conversation so my own quiet times could bear more fruit.

And I was just about ready to fly, by the grace of Jesus.

Is it time for you to choose a random internet, or in-person connection to soar with, too?

On a COMPLETELY UNRELATED topic, we are hosting a regular online listening prayer and connection time soon.

Details will be posted soon HERE.

Rejoice in Your Fear

/ Lori Lawe / 3 Comments

The newspaper is like the genie in the bottle, a monster emerging from the words. It stares down at me, huge and menacing. My teeth quake as I glance at it, trembling. I am afraid.

I am left in the corner, quaking, the monster guarding me, bidding that I say right where I am, crouched in the corner. It is watching for when it is safe for me to come out.

But it never is. Another scare. Another news item. One crisis after another. I crouch and hide, obedient to my fear.

But when I attempt to rise on quaking legs, and when I stand, holding, as a crutch, the arm of the One standing next to me, I feel a bit stronger. But my head still spins.

Come, He seems to bid. Take just one step, my child. One step and then another. I focus on Him, who steadies me when I walk.

His face becomes a bit clearer. The arm that I rest on feels a bit more solid, and less a figment of my imagination.

And my fear, which once dominated me, returns to rest deep within the newspaper, where it belongs. It is always lurking inside there, and within the words of some others that I meet.

But I realize now that fear is too strong for me. I cannot tame it. But it can be supplanted by my intense, prolonged, focus on the One who is not afraid.

And then I walk. And then I run. And then I give a cup of water to the thirsty. And then I wash the smelly feet of the hurting stranger, the one who, also, has been terrorized into a shell of herself by her fear.

“Come,” I bid. “There is One who will help you to walk. Let’s take the first step, together, sister, brother. I will show you how to lean on His arm a bit more often, a bit more of your full body weight supported by Him the next time you fall. Don’t let go.”

And as we tread upon our fear, He is raising up a great army. He passes you the weapons that are needed for this great war: love, compassion, humility, dependence, servitude.

Only the weak are strong. And thus, my fear has strengthened me, as I have been pushed, ever more into the loving arms of My Father, who holds me as I cry. Let’s not miss the opportunity that our fear points us toward.

Don’t panic. I’m with you. The Message

Let’s rejoice in our fear because we have been pushed, more often and more deeply, into His arms of comfort. What are you afraid of, sister, brother? Come and be comforted in the arms of the greatest comforter, so that you too may be a comfort to others with the comfort you have received.

What is one step that the Father may want you to take today, to live out of love, and no longer out of fear? How can your fear strengthen you, as you remember that it is the weak that are actually strong?

Jesus Guided, Through Food, To Heal A Child’s Diagnoses

/ Lori Lawe / 2 Comments

Like a gentle wind, warm, encircling me, comforting, I heard Him speak. Not unlike a confirmation in the heart. Pay attention, He seemed to whisper. Our physical bodies tell our minds, too, when it is time to run or to fight – eyes dilated, heartbeat pumping, energy surging. Pay attention.

So it is in the spiritual realm.

He spoke as a spiritual whisper as my friend mentioned a diet she had used for her child. The GAPS diet. Her child had symptoms that were completely opposite to our daughter’s. In fact, we weren’t even sure that our daughter had any real symptoms. Wasn’t she just a late bloomer?

Pay attention.

So I bought the book. I bought two books, actually- Gut and Psychology Syndrome which outlines the GAPS diet, and Nourishing Traditions. For many people, these books go together, like two sides of an Oreo cookie. The cream in the middle, the glue, is the person implementing the suggestions in the book.

Me.

Would I look at the pages over tea, and relegate the cookbooks to the back of my shelf, or would I roll up my sleeves and get to work?

I rolled up one sleeve, partway, and implemented a few suggestions. After the tea, the suggestions seemed hard. Too much to change. And why? I relegated the books to the back of the bookshelf where they collected dust for many years. “I tried, God.”

Many years later, the doctors gave us a list of diagnoses they wanted to label our child with. Ouch. A smack in the rear. A wake-up call. Maybe she was going to have a harder time than some other kids doing the regular things of life. Understanding school. Making close friends. Riding a bicycle. Not being racked with random stomach pains.

And the heart of a mother emerged, out of desperation. Pay attention. Heartbeat racing, ready for action, energy surging – how can I help my daughter? Eyes dilating – where do I focus? The heart of a mother, her desire to help her child, is a force to be reckoned with.

Get out of my way.

“All of those diagnoses are listed on the front cover of that book you bought”, that same friend reminded me. Oh yes. Were they? Where were those books anyway?

And so a journey began. A journey with Jesus, Him holding my hand, urging me onward, together, with Him. This time I was ready to hold His hand, to walk in His direction.

Desperation made me humble.

I’m ready now, to try anything.

And today, years later, we have a remarkable story of a child thriving in joy and in physical, mental, and social strengths.

None of the labels stuck to her in ways that were expected, praise be to God.

It turns out that science is increasingly backing up this nudge from the wind of God, too, but that is a discussion for another day.

God, help us to take your hand as You long to lift us from despair concerning the struggles our children encounter. We desperately need your guidance.

Help us to roll up our sleeves, and to do the hard, counter-cultural work that we may need to do, to allow healing food to help some of our children with some of their struggles, we pray.

Don’t Laugh At Me Yet

/ Lori Lawe / 4 Comments

No. It isn’t funny. We concur with you. We empathize. We feel your pain. We’ve been there. This is NOT funny……. (yet). We turn away when the snicker rises up. We don’t want you to see the guffaw. Not YET. Yet is the keyword.

My daughter is a minor chemist. She has mixed and remade so many versions of slime that she could create her own YouTube channel if she wanted to (in fact, she does and likely will). She was thrilled with the quality and texture of her most recent recipe, bounding down the stairs to lay her magnificent creation before my unappreciative eyes.

“Oh yes, it’s more stretchy,” I expressed, grasping to appreciate homemade slime. She couldn’t hear my lack of astonishment. She was a momma and this new batch of slime was her baby. No one, nothing, could tempt her to see a lack of wonder towards her beloved. This I could understand.

But it was unbelievably annoying when later that morning, after using our bathroom, I automatically rested my hand where the hand pump soap sits, and … nothing. The soap was gone. I actually thought I was going mad. I couldn’t find my teaspoon measure (again) later in the day. Random things seem to appear from thin air in bizarre locations, and others disappear with no rhyme or reason.

So it wasn’t funny. Yet. Can we not even keep soap in the bathroom, this hygienic essential? What is wrong with our household? I stumbled to the coffee machine in an effort to increase brain cells, to seek comfort from another cup of java. How is it that we don’t even have what we need to function at the most basic of levels? I asked myself.

I was discouraged. My identity was somehow wrapped up in a $6 bottle of hand soap. If I’m the one directing this ship, together with my hardworking husband, why is there another hole in the boat?

Coffee wasn’t solving my problem. But laughter did. Unentangling my identity from the bottle of hand soap helped. Waiting for the YET, which I could sense somehow, was coming, was the relief that I needed.

So, of course, our daughter used the family bathroom hand soap to make her most recent batch of glorious slime. Why wouldn’t she? And yes, she did put it . . . somewhere. Now where was it?

Here is the YET. I am NOT actually incapable of having enough of the basic essentials available to avoid a major health hazard. I am homeschooling. And my daughter is the inventor. Of COURSE, we may not have soap to wash our hands every now and then.

Relating this story to a friend later that day was long enough for the YET to arrive. Pull my hair out, question my ability to safely homeschool my children a few hours ago. And now it’s funny.

Because our little inventor is ridiculous. And so am I. Who ties their self-worth to the state of organization of their home? We need each other, her and I. God has plans for us both.

So she returned the soap. I had a laugh with my friend, who relayed a similar homeschooling mishap, and we went on with storytime together. And I am learning again, that because I am ridiculous, and because I live with those who are ridiculous, funny stuff happens.

I see your lips twitching the next time I share my frustrating homeschooling mishap. It’s math time. Has anyone seen all of our pencils? You look away, trying not to burst into laughter in my face. Not yet.

But you are the ones chosen by God . . . chosen to be a holy people … from nothing to something, from rejected to accepted. The Message‬‬

Do you sometimes throw away your identity as a child of God and link your self-worth, instead, to a $6 bottle of hand soap, or other expectation for yourself as Captain of the ship? Are you frantically bailing out a sinking ship, or is this just not funny (yet)?