Aj Schwanz

Worship Fully:  This evening the family was planning on attending a special seasonal worship service at our faith community.  But the kids and I napped, and I just couldn’t pull it together, so Jason went on without us (he was playing with those leading musical worship).  At first I felt profound guilt:  “You should have bucked up and gone!”  “You chose to stay home rather than worship God!”  “You are choosing comfort over worship!”  Condemnation upon condemnation.  Then I ate something, and as the blood sugar rose, a sense of normality started to return.  The kids and I had a really good evening.  Nothing out of the ordinary:  helping me make dinner, playing computer games, taking a long bath, reading Christmas stories on my bed, drinking hot cocoa with marshmallows.  But we spent time together – non-demanding, enjoying each others’ company, reading about “One Baby Jesus Sleeping Peacefully.”  And I felt that Spirit in the Every Day, and felt greatly blessed.

Spend Less:  I made laundry detergent.  Spent less money, know what’s going into my laundry, and hopefully it’s not mucking up the water system as much.

Give More:  My Sunday School is spending time exploring the concept of diversity.  I’ve heard it said that if a faith gathering is not racially and socio-economically diverse, then it’s not truly living and working in the will of God.  I’m not so sure about that statement:  I see a lot of truth in it, but there’s something else about that …. Something for me to give more attention to, as uncomfortable as it can make me.

Love All:  Today I spent most of worship making faces at my daughter.  And as she went all googoo eyed and wide-grinned and cooing, I wondered if Mary ever did the same thing at the Tabernacle.  If Christ looked half as cute as Josephine did today, it would be easy and hard to love others:  my heart was full, but if others hurt my child, I’d be that much more hurt.

Last night I went to a meeting at church.  I had no idea why other than that I needed to go (and that it was being coordinated by two friends who I adore and love any excuse to spend time with them).

A call was put out to gather folks concerned about immigration issues taking place in our area:  what are legal ramifications, what is being done, how are we called to move?  The immigration population in my church neighborhood centers mostly around a Hispanic population (as opposed to Portland which also has a more diverse group of folks affected).

I don’t speak Spanish:  I took four years of high school French and spoke it very poorly.  I’m involved in ministries and life with Caucasian suburban working/stay-at-home moms and high school/college-age students.  But I needed to go.

Our church has a relationship with a Hispanic Friends church right across the street.  I’m not sure of the technicalities – whether we “started “the gathering, supported it monetarily, partnered with, worked alongside? ….  That’s part of the issue at hand.  The Hispanic faith community is living with these issues, but there seems to be a lack of communicating between us … at least a lack that I know about.

It’s always sketchy to talk about things I don’t know about:  I don’t want to put my foot in my mouth or cause more harm – this is simply my perception or experience.  I’m not casting blame, and if there’s a place where our faith community needs to apologize in an effort to connect and walk alongside each other, I hope we do that.

Other things I didn’t know:

• A community garden is coming to Newberg with the hopes of helping folks in need.  It’s not necessarily in the midst of town, but it should be accessible.
• A place called The Welcome Center at a local grade school assists immigrants with paperwork, finding ESL classes, living here, meeting needs.  They are in the midst of this.
• Families are barely making ends meet; the immigration process contains endless loopholes; some people have the option to immigrate, but many don’t; the Hispanic culture places great important on relationships, many of which are left when upon immigration, which leaves them foundation-less – these relationships do not seem to be naturally taking place here.

I sat on a couch in the conference room next to my son munching on Teddy Grahams.  I wanted to bring him along:  didn’t know why.  Perhaps it’s a small step in helping him look beyond himself at how others live, to understand and be welcomed into our call as a family to walk alongside others and help, to get out of our comfort zones – admitting that we’re getting out of our comfort zones – and simply start with “I’m willing.”

My friend talked about “as we worship a God who moved into the neighborhood, we’re called to do the same.”  I don’t know my neighborhood, but I’m willing.

Today a friend and I were talking about The State of Young Adults, which makes me feel so old that I actually care and talk about things like that, and retirement plans, and how much milk costs.  Soon I’ll be staying up for my Friday night viewing of Wall Street Week in Review with my high-fiber, non-fat, low-sodium rice cakes, living into the party animal that I am.

At one point my friend referred to us as “bridges” between young adults and adults – able to speak to both, existing in both worlds, trying to help understanding on both sides.  Young adults seem to want to be adults, but different than the adults who exist; existing adults want to think that they’re still “hip” with young adults, and yet they don’t “get” why young adults do what they do (or don’t do what they don’t do).  I wondered when I would move from being a bridge to being firmly planted on the adult side of the fence:  I feel I’m getting closer day by day, sometimes pushed, as I find myself saying things I *swore* I’d never say, like “use your words”, “not so fast”, and “what is that crap on the radio?”

I wondered who will be the bridge between me and my kids when they reach young adults.  Will they be segregated into a removed-from-the-larger-body youth group experience?  Will their peers and youth leaders be as influential in their spiritual formation as mine were?  Will they drift off and find Church Life irrelevant?  Or will they lead me and our family/community to a new place to experience where God is already moving?

I got a bit angry.  Many of my friends who grew up in my faith community were dedicated to Christ in that very building.  Their parents dressed them up, brought them to the congregation, and on a blessed Sunday made a commitment in front of the community to raise this child in the ways of Christ.  The family entered into a covenant with the community and with God – sacred, holy, blessed.  In return the community covenanted to walk alongside the family, to train and equip them to raise this child into the ways of Christ.  And yet my friends and the community no longer walk together.  I wondered:  how long was that covenant called to last?

Yes, we live in a transitional society.  We also live in a very nuclear-family-oriented and busy society.  It’s easy for me to lose track of others because I’m focused on a) my family and 2) the things I want to do.  I think we’re called to do things as a larger congregation, but I so often hear, “We’re already so involved doing so many good things!”  Individually.  When am I called to lay things aside, even if they’re good things, because I’ve made a covenant to the larger community?

I want the covenant that I made before God and before Newberg Friends to last as long as God will allow.  If we happen to move, I hope that interest and love will still remain, even though the day-to-day walk will be transferred to a different faith community.  I don’t want this covenant to be passed off to the middle school pastor, and then the high school pastor, and then … ?  The slow fade into nothing, that is, until my boys get married and have children of their own, maybe still being involved in a faith community and now able to reenter as an Adult Parent, the “role” that seems most functional/understood in the evangelical Christian faith community.

My friend talked about a gal she connected with, a young single mother who is simply trying to get through one day at a time.  When my friend asked what her goals or dreams or gifts were, she had no answer.  She had no one walking alongside her, speaking that into her life; she felt completely disconnected to those in the faith community, the place where she was dedicated.  How has it reached this point?  Do we need to cast blame, or simply state it for what it is and then ask, “What is God calling us to do about it?”

How long do covenants last?  Do these covenants mean anything practical, or are they simply a ritual and a Sunday morning family photo opportunity?  What covenants is God asking us to renew, reclaim?  If they are called to last, I feel anger, remorse, and motivation to *do* something about it:  I don’t want my words to be meaningless, which they are until lived out in action.  I expect the same of my faith community.

Perhaps we need to talk as a community about what that means – define expectations.  Perhaps we need to evaluate where these practicalities are to be lived out – small groups versus larger congregation, etc.  And perhaps we need to repent, to apologize, to take a posture of humility and hospitality.  Or we can just let the slow fade continue, and our words can continue to lose their power; but this Mama Bear won’t live that way with her boys (not like they’re easy to ignore anyway; just *try* and forget about them ).

The weather is sunny, and I’ve found my typing fingers.  I know I should be out of doors enjoying the last of the rays for a bit, as clouds are rolling in even now, but I know the sun will return:  it *has* to.

I’ve been out and about in my neighborhood, taking walks, checking out the spring flowers, noticing which houses have sold and which one are on the market.  People are talking to each other, having barbeques, playing at the park.  I love the noises of hearing kids squeal as they slide down the corkscrew slides or get pushed just That Much Higher on the swings.  People are talking; people are communing.

My Bible study has switched topics as of last week.  We had been working through certain materials since our start in the fall, taking two weeks for each lesson to really get into the ideas presented.  Our groups was fairly large, and a number of folks were attending specifically because of the material we were using (they really enjoyed the author/presenter).  Now the attendence has changed.  True, the cold season is still upon us; work picks up; peoples’ schedules get busy.  But I also know that people aren’t present due to the topical change.  And it bothers me.

When I was in college, I had a roommate who was event-oriented.  A new movie was coming out, one that all the roommates wanted to see.  But something came up, and we had to postpone.  Except she still went:  found other people to go with.  This hurt my feelings, silly as it sounds, and as obstinate as I am, I didn’t even want to see the movie when the opportunity arose:  she already saw it and therefore ruined it.  Finally I realized why I was so cranky:  I’m *community*-oriented.  Many times I could care less about *what* we’re doing as long as we’re doing it *together*.  She’s not wired that way.  Realizing this, naming this, gave me freedom to be me and for her to be her, for my feelings not to be hurt, but to recognize that our expectations were different.  And this is something I have to remind myself of in situations like my bible study.

In Sunday School we had a new speaker (tis the season for change, apparently:  get out your white pants, your outdoor eating gear, and your new speakers) who is speaking for four weeks on the idea of Community and Spirituality:  that we often take an individualistic approach to spirituality, not a communal one.  Jesus is our personal savior.  I need to take care of my sins for my sake.  I attend which church I want to because it relates best to my needs.  He mentioned the idea of the parish church where one attended a church, or rather was *assigned*, due to location.  And you duked out all the joys and the muck that comes with community rather than leaving when things got uncomfortable or “didn’t relate.”

I’ve heard people speak on the topic at hand at Bible Study; I’ve heard it a number of times.  I’m still attending with the hopes that I’ll take away something new from this person’s individual experience in this area, but more so that I can come alongside others who haven’t heard these things, that are struggling, that need people to walk alongside them and strengthen and equip them in these areas.  This is my community, and as much as I complain about different things, I really don’t want to leave just because the topic doesn’t “totally” relate or connect with me:  I want to help, to be present, to commune because if/when the roles are reversed, I would want the same from them.  If others are called to leave, I want to have a heart that speaks peace and freedom to them as well.  Wherever we are called to be, I pray that we will simply be fully present.

The first week of Lenten reflection is called “Journey into the Brokenness of Our Inner Selves”.  Only by examining and naming the muck in my life can I face my False Self, turning to the Cross for transformation into my True Self.  Most people lay things down for Lent.  A friend of mine explained how she has a hard time with that concept, that she wants to pick up something (for her, intentional time to be creative).  I think this is perfectly in line with the Lenten Spirit.  Through her creativity, something God-given that is part of her True Self, she can set aside other things that might be causing more brokenness in her life.

I didn’t lay things down either, per say.  I picked up memorizing a scripture a day.  Which, to me, sounds SO DORKY.  I was on Bible Quizzing and have an association of scripture memorization and competition:  if I’m not doing it to win a prize, then I’m doing it because I’m some goody two-shoes who wants to be able to throw back Bible verses as little arrows in debates on communion or women in leadership in the church or salvation, etc.  Hmm:  broken area in my life?

So I’m setting aside my pride and I’m memorizing a verse a day.  They’re simply verses I’ve noticed from the previous day or that stand out to me.  For example, after waking up, again, in the middle of the night with nasty dreams, I found myself saying, “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”  Wondered what the context of that verse was, so it’s my verse of the day, but more focusing on the good stuff before it:  “But He gives us more grace.  Therefore He says, ‘God resists the proud but gives grace to the humble.’ Submit to God.” (James 4:6-7).

Friday night we attended a Lent Gathering at Newberg Friends.  I had wanted to go, and once the kids took really long naps (i.e. it’d be FOREVER until they fell asleep that evening), that sealed the deal.  It was good:  contemplative singing, engaging talks, stations to participate in.  One of the stations called for writing a sin or something you wanted to give up for Lent and nailing it to the cross.  My first thought:  “I’ve done this.  A thousand times.  It.Doesn’t.Work.”  DOH.  Unbelief.  And unbelief in God’s redemptive power:  sin.  Boo-yah.

So perhaps another thing I’m trying to set aside (permanently) is unbelief.  Which hopefully the scripture will equip me with the words in my head that will seep into my heart so that I might be single-minded:  my True Self.

Yesterday I was scrolling through one of my favorite foodie aggregators and noticed multiple recipes for King Cake, a concoction I hadn’t heard of, which is for celebrating Fat Tuesday.  “Really?”, I thought, “It’s Mardi Gras already?  Which means . . . oh, yes:  Lent.”

I had meant to think ahead about Lent this year.  Just as I do every year.  But instead I find myself committing to some sort of quick resolution to give up something (chocolate, caffeine, mean thoughts about others) that I rarely follow through with because, heck!  I’m a Quaker!  What am I doing practicing Lent anyway?    Yes, yes, poor excuse, especially when my faith gathering is actively participating in this liturgical season.

It takes a village to raise a kid, and it takes a community to participate in Lent is my motto this year.  That’s why I’m so appreciative of the resources I’ve found online, particularly from Mustad Seed Associates.  Christine Sine has organized a synchoblog for people to share their experiences, troubles, joys, and small steady steps as they follow through in living out Lent.  MSA has also put together a most excellent Lenten Reflection Guide complete with thematic concerns, prayers, and activities to give more structure to Lenten expressions.

One thing the Sines note is that this is not meant to be done alone:  it is meant to be lived out in community.  If others are interested, I would love to have a weekly gathering for us to share and discern this experience together – time to strengthen and equip one another as we journey with and adore our Creator who came among us at such great cost.  And for those online, if you don’t want to participate in the synchroblog, I humbly offer my blog as a place for you to comment:  it’s the best online hospitality I can offer at this point. 

Today at Bible Study we were present with an onslaught of Christmas gift opportunities that benefit others through purchase.

• A group of women have created bracelets from beads made in Thailand:  the proceeds go to a house that rescues girls from the sex trade industry.
• A dear friend’s young daughter wants to “buy the farm”:  Her parents turned a picture drawn by the amazing girl into a Christmas card with proceeds going to raise enough money to buy a farm for a village through World Vision.
• A representative from F.I.S.H. shared a promotion sponsored by the Coffee Cottage:  purchase their Christmas Blend, and $2 of every pound purchased goes to F.I.S.H.
• Another friend’s daughter is raising money to go on an orchestra tour by selling locally made jams and syrups.
• NFC is hosting a Make It Yourself Workshop on December 6th.  By signing up for a time slot and paying a minimal fee, the participants are equipped with supplies and personal instruction from very knowledgable and crafty people on how to do things such as make candy, create gift boxes, make memory books, knit and crochet simple projects, etc.  This idea is coupled with our churches participation in The Advent Conspiracy:  spend less on Christmas, give more.  A statistic was given that if Americans put money spent at Christmas towards solving the world’s water crisis, that it would be fixed 45 times over.

The facilitator, one of the most tender-hearted people I know, commented, “Now, I know economic times are hard, and merchants want you to go out and shop, so I do feel a little bit bad about that.”  My wheels started turning (mind you, their idealistic wheels:  if I had realistic wheels, I’d probably be doing rather than yammering about it).

Random thoughts:  what if our way of life is unsustainable (I know:  it’s a fairly obvious answer)?  Why should we spend more and perpetuate an unhealthy system?  When you have those crisis moments, it’s an opportunity to change, or to ignore or make do and limp along until the next crisis.  Like transitioning my sons to sleep through the night:  yes, it stunk.  Yes, we had to get up repeatedly.  But by not giving in, by being consistent, by being committed to doing things differently, it got easier . . . better . . . healthier . . . eventually.  I remember reading in books about establishing healthy patterns with sleep that the author often said, “Just when you’re about to give up, if you stick with it, the tide will turn.”  And each time, that happened.

We’ve been given the gift of a crisis:  will we make do, or will we change?  What is that change we’re called towards?  How do we combat the black pit of consumption?

One thought:  live simply, so others might simply live.  And I’m thinking that living in such a manner requires community . . . .

Another friend and I were Facebook messaging about the food crisis.  She said that the Food Banks are in desperate need for the upcoming holiday and was discerning her call to help.  She mentioned that her family gives, but it’s hard to talk about what to do with others, because we’re supposed to keep our giving to ourselves, not to flaunt it to benefit ourselves. But if we don’t talk in community, however will we be able to act effectively?  What sorts of places or forums can we share such ideas and leadings, to gather together, to equip, to be the hands and feet of Christ?

I heard that Oregon is one of the top five hungriest states.  Where I live!!  Not in rural America, not in the South, but here.  Oregon.  My home state.

Consumption;  too much, not enough.

Again, Isaiah 58 was read today, at Bible Study in a talk on prejudice.

6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness ^[a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

11 The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

12 Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

13 “If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the LORD’s holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,

14 then you will find your joy in the LORD,
and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
The mouth of the LORD has spoken.

Tears overwhelmed my eyes (i.e. The Spirit was present!)  The speaker said we need to learn to share the Truth in Love.  I thought about how that means to share the Truth in Christ, because Christ is Love.  But what does that look like?  How do we share the Truth in Love about our economy?  Our life styles?  Our consumption?

Words that come to mind:  Baby steps.  Intentionality.  Community.  Vulnerability.  Listening.  Humility.  Sitting with suffering.  Abiding.

May we be your hands and feet:  to create and further Your Kingdom.  Day by day.

Thank you so much for your comments, affirmations, noticings, and heartful desires on living a high bar life.  Today I felt that another little piece of the puzzle was discovered, though I don’t know if I like where it’s going.

Today the family and I went to church . . . reluctantly.  I used to enjoy the Fall Back time change, somehow tricking myself into believing that I got more rest.  However, someone forgot to send that memo to Blessed Children that reside under my roof.  So we were up – early – and fairly cranky about it.  However, when thinking about being home with less sleep and more Awake and Together time, well, it gave us motivation to get out and about and to a place with childcare. 

This morning in Sunday School we practiced a lectio divina on Matthew 14:22-33 in which Jesus, after feeding the 5,000, sends his apostles across the lake and saves them from a storm during which Peter decides to test his faith to buoyancy ratio.

At first, I had a really hard time centering down:  I was with adults!  Fun adults!  While children were contentedly playing!  I wanted to chat and laugh and have fun and teacher don’t make me behave!  We listened to some music (loud music with words:  the overall experience made me more anxious than centered), read the Scripture twice, and shared a phrase that stood out to us.

For me:  “Immediately after this, Jesus insisted that his disciples get back into the boat and cross”.  My perception of God, despite all the Bible stories I’ve read and experiences I’ve had, is that I can take God or leave God:  God gave me free will, and it is my right to exercise it.  But Christ insisted that they cross.

We read the Scripture out loud again, and then shared:  “I see, I hear, I sense Jesus . . . ”

For me:  I sense Jesus being a lot more assertive and commanding than I usually perceive Him to be.  I don’t know why – perhaps it’s my post-modern sensiblities, but I really feel like I have an option.  And I’m sure that the disciples could have said ‘no’ . . . . but this Scripture just doesn’t lend the air of “Well, it’d be better for you if you got in the boat, but I don’t want to offend your free will, so take it or leave it, and I’ll stand by passively with a mournful face, but Lord knows (really) that this would be better for you, but it really is your choice . . .”

We read the Scripture again.  This time:  “Jesus is inviting me to . . .”

For me:  To.Get.In.The.Boat.

Our group discussed all sorts of noticings and thoughts.  Some noticed that Christ went alone to pray:  why did He need to be alone, and is He inviting me to do the same?  Others wondered what it would be like to be Peter – to step out on faith.  One person picked up on the phrase, “It’s a ghost!” and wondered what that meant for her life.  But for me, it was all about insisting that the disciples get in the boat.

I thought about what I would do in the disciples’ shoes/sandals.  First of all, I would want to stay where I was:  Christ had performed an amazing miracle, and I would want to stay where I was so folks could talk about how great Christ was, and I could say, “Yeah, I’m with *Him*:  kudos to me!”  As though I had anything to do with the miracle, or any way that I was worthy enough to be His disciple.

Then, as Christ was kicking me onto the boat (I imagine it as how it is sometimes dropping off my four-year old in Sunday School when he doesn’t want to go:  noodle boy who then sprints off down the hall – lovely), I would turn and say, “Um, look, *carpenter*, I am a fisherman, or have you forgotten?  This morning when we were looking at the lovely sunrise, do you remember what we saw?  That’s right:  red sky.  You remember what that means?  Yeah, I’m not getting in this stinkin’ boat until after the storm, when conditions are, you know, reasonable.  But apparently you *don’t* know, and I’d think you would, Mr. Son of God and all that.”

At 3 a.m., after battling fierce waves, after being shoved away by the one I wanted to cling to, then I would be miffed, you know, in between almost drowning.  I would be so mad!  “I *told* you we shouldn’t sail.  But noooooo:  you kicked us on the boat, and then you ditched us!  You aren’t even here!  And now we’re going to drown, and I’m exhausted and cold and MAD, and I might die!  I didn’t even want to come!  You don’t even know how hard it is out here!  I really have an earful to give to you, if I don’t lose my voice from drinking so  much salt water.”  Yes, I would make a most excellent grumbling Israelite:  fit right in with the crowd.

I think with a high bar existence, I’m waiting for the conditions to be ideal.  But perhaps (shocking, I know) my idea and God’s idea of ideal conditions might  . . . differ.  If conditions had been ideal in the disciples’ perception, they never would have seen the miraculous actions of Christ or recognized the truth in their heart:  that they had little faith.  God is all about the experiential learning, about creating situations that we pray for deliverance from when He’s maneuvered all sorts of things to put us in the middle of it.   I can hear Graham Cooke sharing his take on this Scripture:  Jesus, talking to God:  “Oh, Father, it’s lining up just great!  Can you give them waves, and make them really really big ones?” 

Sometimes I need space to discern, and sometimes I need to just get.in.the.boat.  So I wonder, what areas is Christ “extending” that invitation to me (aka swiftly kicking me in the butt)?  And who’s getting the kick with me?

We experienced yet another week of worship with our children, and though this blog has been silent, we lived to tell the tale.  So did the balcony carpet, although it’s been littered with a bit more cereal crumbs that I’m fairly certain it’s ever seen.

This past week did not go as “smoothly” as the week before.  Which, one may think, “But Aj, last week didn’t sound all that smooth in the first place.”  Very very true.  Judah ran even more.  Abel, having had a bout of the stomach flu the day before, was a bit on the clingy side.  And Jason and I were a bit tired with patience lacking.

But we persevered through snacks, bathroom breaks, and pacing.  In my Walking the Balcony I got to hang out with a friend who was pacing with a bebe as well.  Except the last time he had a babe was some 14ish years ago.  Nope, this wasn’t his kid:  he and his family had been taking turns passing the lovely little girl around during service.

And towards the end of service, Judah asked saw Mr. Alan in the sound booth and wanted to infiltrate, but I told him not to be a bother.  Except, of course, Mr. Alan asked if Judah could come and help him run sound.

Judah told me all about the things he learned:  listening on the headset, watching the screens, “working” the nobs.  He felt very informed and helpful.

At the end of service we had a time of prayer.  I think the idea was to reflect on the message, but something was also said about praying for others.  I was a little too busy balancing Abel on the open second story window because I thought he might stop “ditditDITDITDIT!!!”ing at the top of his lungs if he saw his beloved nature.  But a friend came up to me and asked if she could pray for me:  um, yeah?!!    As she spoke, she prayed for me to have patience, and I must admit I found myself thinking, “Do I look like I need patience?  Man, I thought I was handling myself well this morning!”, but perhaps it was more a reflection on the active tykes rather than my response (I hope).    She later took Abel for a walk outside so he really could enjoy the sunshine and I could enjoy free arms and quiet.

Again, to me, this is church.  Both my little men have been dedicated in front of this body, and it wasn’t just a commitment from Jason and I to raise them in the ways of Christ, but also for the body of Newberg Friends to commit to walk alongside us.  As other families bring their children in front of the congregation in the same way, so I eagerly commit to walk alongside them, through the good and the bad, through the children who sit still during service and the children who appear to be jumping over the balcony (I can’t tell you how many folks jerked every time Judah approached the edge).  I can’t do it on my own, and I don’t want to; and as I outsourced some of my parenting duties that morning, I looked forward to the day when I can return the favor.

It’s actually here:  June has arrived, and Newberg Friends Church has begun a six week corporate fast (lots of helpful linky links on the webpage).   Well,  Newberg Friends has begun an  “optional” six week corporate fast, i.e.  many of the adult Sunday School classes are still meeting, but I think addressing what it means to be the corporate body of Christ, setting aside preferences for the sake of others, and laying down some of that individualism we as Quakers love SO very dearly almost to our dying denomination’s detriment is probably another post in itself.

Because this post is about the fun we had on Sunday morning:  so much fun that Abel fell asleep in his high chair during lunch and Judah slept almost 12 hours straight last night.  Now *that’s* a great Sunday.

Jason and I were a bit wary.  We knew this Sunday was coming, the day when all the kids and youth would be in worship with us.  And we also knew that the nursery and the 3’s class would still be in session for our kids to be deposited into.  But it seemed a tad hypocritical to speak for weeks on what a wonderful time this could be to see our full faith community and experience the life and joy and reality of truly corporate worship, you know, minus my kids.

So I prepared:  I packed books and snacks and a sudoku book and pens in my Mary Poppins bag.  I remember a few years ago sitting by a family with young boys, and every Sunday the mom would pull out coloring books and snacks and activities for them to do.  Newly married, and minus the whirling dervishes known as my children, I would look over and think, “Why do these kids have to be entertained?  Why can’t they just sit?  What is wrong with her and her parenting that these boys have to be distracted during service?”  My, oh my, oh my, I should’ve known that that would be a small glimpse into my future.  Because, you see, at least her kids *SAT*.  Sigh.

And so we “congregated” in the very back of the balcony where we could quickly exit if need be and small people could climb under pews with the least amount of distraction and smaller people could crawl on the floor and not conk their noggins and yowl.

It went as well as could be expected. 

People only had to stop Judah from hanging precariously over the balcony once and out the second story window once.  Abel only shouted at his pacifier a few times, during quiet time, of course.  Judah conked his noggin once, had to go to the bathroom once meaning stomping up and down each.individual.stair.to.the.basement.and.back.up.again, and mostly worked his army skills climbing under benches.  We only bothered our neighbors a few times (one of them being the president of the university, i.e. my hubby’s ultimate boss – lovely).  Judah sang the songs while Abel and I danced.  Judah ate triskets while Abel stalked him yelling “DIT DIT DIT DIT” and we quickly threw him a piece of chunky cereal to pacify the restless native.  Judah loved seeing “Opal and Pearl” (i.e. Sandra Fish and Teacher Miriam) all dressed up and acting like two crazy old ladies not understanding the concept of the fast (“I tried to tell the officer about the fast, but he didn’t seem to think that applied to my driving here”).

People talked to each other.  People sang and laughed and praised.  Afterwards we congregated on the lawn for muffins and coffee.  While the adults chatted and the little boys ran amuck, I looked at Jason and said, “This is church.”  Minus being able to maintain eye contact with the adults because I was having to monitor too many roads that small people could run out in, this was just like when I was a kid after church:  parents chatting and happy, kids being kids, food and beverage being enjoyed, worshiping and fellowshipping.

Which, apparently, is exhausting.  Who knew I needed to build up my fellowshipping endurance?  Believe me, that’s something that I won’t mind putting effort into.