Reflections on Auditions in Chicago

This weekend I became the mother of two teenage boys instead of two preschool boys. No, Max and Will did not suddenly have a burst of testosterone, but I was the surrogate mama to my little brother and his friend as they went to audition at Wheaton College and DePaul University.
As we entered the school of music, we were met by a cacophony of sound: Mozart flying through the air, the distant sound of tympani pounding, the names of hopefuls signing in, the loud silence of potentials waiting and parents praying. These students represent years of hard work, hours of practice, small fortunes and cultivated dreams. And all of this came to the crossroads of an audition to see if they have done enough, practiced enough, prepared enough, became enough. The spread of doughnuts seemed to mock, for who could eat?
Then as auditions were taking place, I went to an information session and learned that if my boys are still wanted after two rounds of cuts, they will only be able to attend this university if they pay $50,000 a year.
In the midst of all this I couldn’t help but be thankful for how much different it is coming to God. With him you never come to a crossroad of performance where you have to demonstrate that you have mastered and polished a list of requirements to make it through the first cut. It was when Christ hung and bled and died on the cross and then crescendoed into resurrected life three days later that all requirements were fulfilled and mastered. This allows us to bring the broken, imperfect and dissonant notes of our life to the master composer who then weaves them into the symphony of Jesus and gently brings them to resolution, or in a different word: home. And all God hears is a perfect masterpiece of love.

Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday. The beginning of Lent.

I wonder what this season will hold.

Today I am very aware of my limitations.

Here is a link to a GREAT article about Lent. Please read it.

http://www.internetmonk.com/archive/all-fall-down#more-29056

I'm Learning

I'm learning...

that I still love to teach, but I love being a mom more.

that community is essential.

that I still need to really digest Bonhoeffer's words that "...self-sacrifice makes community possible."

that I am capable of doing a lot more that I thought I was. It really is a matter of priorities.

that there is nothing better than coming home to people who love you.

that God is always doing something and is just looking for an available heart to take action.

that "the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."

that God uses my boys to teach me about himself.

that it is late, and I am tired and have a way too busy day tomorrow.

What are you learning?

My Thatch Roof

As I got out of the car to go into Blockbuster for our first weekly Saturday movie, wine and chocolate night, I was slapped in the face by an icy gust of wind (at least for South Carolinian standards). I sank deeper into my fleece and walked quickly over to the building. When I was sheltered by its walls, the cold was no longer as terrible, and the wind was just a breeze.
I realized that this is what Joey is to me. A place to hide; a place to warm up; a place that makes situations seem not as bad; a place where I don’t have to hide in my fleece. Blockbuster was not my first stop. I was actually on my way to the store to pick up the wine and a few other things when I eagerly took a detour to Starbucks. I had left Joey at home with dinner to be made, a sick four- year- old and a toddler refusing to poop, even though, according to him, his belly “tickled.”
I was in a daze, tired from weeks of colds, pink eye, stomach problems, and starting a new job. As I sat in quiet and sipped my tea, the warmth started flooding my body, and it started to thaw my heart. The tea cup with a heart on it in honor of Valentines Day was Joey’s heart; a part of him. I have seen the effects of his work. Any excess of his body has disappeared, and now he is all muscle. He works so hard that he is in a way actually trading part of his body to take care of his family. Day after day he trades the seconds of his life to make mine better, and gives me the luxury of sipping a foamy Chai. It had only been the other day (here) that I had seen building imagery used to describe love. In 1 Corinthians 13 when Paul says that love bears all things, the Greek word being used can actually mean a “thatch roof.” A roof keeps that icy wind of life out. Real love places itself intentionally between the storm and the loved one.
I was gone for a little over two hours. I called home, and sheepishly apologized that I had been MIA for so long. His response was, “Stay away as long as you need to.” He was intentionally and joyfully bearing my load and sheltering me from it. Tears came to my eyes as I eagerly drove home.

Joey, thank you for being a thatch roof for me.

I love you.

All Aboard!!!!

Close

"Mama, falling asleep is so hard. I can’t do it!” Max groans. It is now almost 10:00, and I groan. It has been a long day of errands, and cooking, and thoughts not fully thought. The surface of the stove still has crusty potatoes on it, and the sink is still full of dirty water. Dad is working late, which is one reason falling asleep is so hard to do. I think Daddy has a strong presence that washes peace over this four-year-old’s mind.
“How about you go get some books and sit on the couch, and I’ll come in just a second.” He trots to the bookshelf, and probably about 1000 seconds later I finally come. He has already looked at his four books (because he is four), and I ask if he still wants me to read.
“Yes,” and he curls up next to me on the couch, getting as close as he possibly can. He nuzzles and pushes and squirms until he finds the perfect spot. (This is one reason God made mamas softer than daddies.)
“Ah, a chance to snuggle and be close,” I think. I gently rub his arm as we chant, “Dum Ditty Dum Ditty Dum Dum Dum!” We don’t snuggle as often anymore. I miss it. I wonder if it because I am busy with baked on crusty food or because he is four. It is probably a combination of both. (But snuggles and food are both nourishment, and our stomachs growl for the former.)
Daddy comes home and takes the boy to bed. His snoring is soon the backdrop to our conversation before we too succumb to slumber.
Maybe reading out loud is so important not just because it focuses our minds on the same topic, creates a love of knowledge, and is the first step to literacy, but because it actually brings us closer together physically and strengthens the security of our relationship.


Max’s four book choices were:

Hand, Hand, Finger Thumb by Al Perkins. (I love this one. I have childhood memories of my Mama reading this to me and my cousins. This is not necessarily the best bed time book though. It’s way too much fun!)

Go, Train, Go! (A Thomas & Friends book.)

The Nose Book by Al Perkins (“But just suppose you had no nose!”)

Crossing by Philip Booth (The art in this book is wonderful. I highly recommend it to anyone, especially if your little one loves trains and details. I am actually planning on making copies of the art and framing it for our playroom.)