God is the Equalizer

As Chris went upstairs to get his bags to fly out this morning William whispered, "Can we go parasailing now?"  Me, "Why are you whispering?"  William, "So Daddy won't hear; he'll say no.  He already said no."  Me, "Then why would I say yes?"  Caroline, "Because you always say yes to things Daddy thinks are a waste of money."  My head jerked up and I looked at the babies.  "What are you talking about?"  Caroline, "The system--who we ask what for what."  My head was seriously spinning.  "Are you kidding me?  Ya'll have a plan?  What is it?"  William, "You know--we know which parent to ask for different things."  Caroline, "Yeah, like if we want to go to a friend's house we ask Daddy.  If we want friends over to our house we ask you."  I was still incredulous at how simply they were stating this as though it should be obvious to everyone.  "What else?' I inquired.  Caroline, "well it's surprising but if we want to buy food from the snack bar we ask Daddy.  If we want to buy other stuff we ask you."  "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!" I bellowed.  "Daddy is the one who complains about what ya'll buy from the snack bar!"  (Notice how I ignored the other?)  I continued, "Are ya'll kidding me?  You've thought this all through?"  Caroline, "Yes, it's a system.  Didn't you have a system growing up?"  I must have looked totally bewildered because she said, "Oh yeah, you grew up in those days."  Again I chose to ignore.

Later in the afternoon I asked the Big Kids.  "Do ya'll have a system of who you ask for what?"  SK, "Well I did but now that I have a license it's changed.  Before it wasn't that Daddy would say no if we wanted to go somewhere, he just didn't want to drive out there."  Boss, "Yeah he'd say he was watching the news or the game which I totally understood."  SK, "Yeah, you didn't want to drive either; that's why you always were saying just have people here."  SK, "I ask Daddy for clothes."  Boss, "I ask you."  They have seriously spent time working on this system.

And now I'm thinking about the last few days and the balance I'm trying to keep--the system I'm using. Last night we called Shawn our soon to be exchange student.  We're really excited about him coming--SK is not.  It's hard for her--she feels like we're moving on without her-replacing her.  None of which is the case, but I get it.  After I got off the phone she was quiet; Boss was elated.  He kept going on and on about how excited he was and how he and Shawn would come visit her.  He didn't notice the tears in her eyes.  What I know is this--Shawn coming says to SK that she won't be here to be part of this next Doyle Family adventure.  Shawn coming makes her feel on the outside.  And Shawn coming helps to band aid the open gaping wound that is in Boss' heart because his best friend is leaving.  Chris and I are holding both in tension....

We're bringing Winnie home on Saturday.  We're not really ready; Avett hasn't been gone long, but we need to do it while SK is home.  It's important.  It's the right thing to do but it's tense.  Everyone wants to go when we take her to school.  We've thought about it, prayed about it, and we've had to make a decision.  SK needs to assimilate into the UVA community with excitement and not worrying about her siblings--and she would.  She loves them and they her.  Part of the joy of rearing children close in age and close in relationship also brings some sorrow when they begin to separate.  We have to choose, to balance--she needs to be able to let go (or at least loosely hold on) and she can't do that if they're there.  They need to know they won't be forgotten.  It's a delicate dance--and Chris and I are the amateurs choreographers.

When I really think about it, this is the way of life and of faith--holding opposites in tension--both equally valid, both equally good.  Boss has a caustic sarcastic humor; William is super sensitive.  Both need their space to be; Chris and I need to balance their needs--they are often at odds with each other and it breaks our hearts.  Bu then they bond; Boss becomes outraged when someone picks on William.  William becomes defensive when someone tries to frame Boss.  And we hold that too.  (And frankly keep them from beating the sh** out of other people.)   SK is going to UVA which is her dream school, but it's not everyone's.  We need to celebrate her without making another's choice less than--because it's not less than.  It's just different. It's hard--holding in tension the joy of my college years, combining them with SK's and realizing there are plenty of other equally good schools.  (The fact that orange and blue seem to be the color of the season is not helping--it's everywhere!)

Here it is, the dark secret I've kept for 7 years-- I want Chris to go every year to his triathlon.  I love these guys; I know he loves these guys,  but every year I feel isolated and left out.  There I've said it; I've admitted it publicly.  I have a really hard time each and every year during this weekend because I feel like I don't matter, like he has another life that is void of me, and I fear one day he'll choose that life. Holding opposite emotions in tension, at the same time, without breaking-that's life; that's love.

 I want to serve the church, and I want to be a stay at home wife and mother (Chris says he'd like to drive a race car to work too).  I want to share everything with my family, and I'm terrified they will judge me and find me less than.  I want to do all the laundry and I want everyone to be appreciative.  I want to give my children everything and I want them to be grateful and appreciative, independent and successful.  I guess I want it all--all the good without the frustration, without the pain.  But that's not life.

We all live lives of tension-lives we're trying to balance, systems we're trying to make work.  Some days we feel like we're doing well, and some days we feel like it's all we can do to keep our heads above water.  Some days we feel like we're breaking out of the boundaries, out of the one thing or the other, and other days we want to hide within the catagories, the stereotypes we have so carefully constructed.  It's hard; it's painful; it's impossible without God.

God knows no boundaries--with God there are no not this/but that's; with God there are no either/or's.  With God there is no having to choose between those we love--with God there is only love and acceptance and what we each need, not at the expense of others but encapsulating others.  God doesn't have to choose--doesn't have to keep the balance.  God is the balance--the equalizing balance.  And with God's help, I'll figure out how.

He/She Stayed--Regardless of the Number on the Scale

For days this has been on my mind.  I usually write blogs in my head and from my heart before they get to paper, but this time I can't, so it's not coherent-I'm not sure it makes sense--but I know I have to write.  I have to get it out there because it is eating me up--(pun not intended).  I have to get it out because for the first time in years and years, I wore a dress the other night; I looked in the mirror and thought, "I look good in this." and then I felt guilty for thinking that.  I felt guilty for spending the $49.99 on it just to make myself feel "good."  And I was ashamed that I thought something positive of myself.  And I knew I wouldn't feel the same the next day on the beach or in another outfit.  Waste of money...I don't deserve to feel good--I'm not good; I'm not enough.

I keep seeing these ads on facebook--"Husband almost filed for divorce but then she lost weight" And I think, "Really, we are celebrating this?  People are liking this?  Sharing this?  Cheering on a husband that would leave his wife because of her weight?"  I don't get it but then you know what?  I do get it and that makes me sick. I get it because I know I have thought to myself, "How do those two fit together?  He/she is so fit and he/she isn't.  They don't match--how can one be so obese and one so fitness obsessed?"  I guess there are some couples--or at least one person in the couple--who also wonders how they fit and so chooses to leave unless the other person loses weight.  I get it--these are ads; we don't know these people are even real.  But there is a weight loss company out there that knows this could happen and is profiting on creating fear in people.  Fear that they will be left if they don't lose weight--fear that they're notenough if they don't lose weight. Not enough, not enough, not enough. And it makes me sick.

So this "woman" has lost weight. So now her marriage will survive--well maybe.  Has anyone thought about what this has done to her emotional or mental well being?  What happens when she gains a few pounds during the holiday season or some other time as hormones change?  Will she panic?  What measures will she go to to stay thin?  Will she ever feel truly beautiful--truly beloved?Will her husband stay when her self esteem and insecurities need to be bolstered constantly?  Will he stay when no matter how many compliments she gets from other people, she still believes in her heart they'll figure out she's a fraud--she won't stay that way; she'll still be left?  And all those insecurities will come out in "crazy" unpredictable ways--will he stay?  I don't know if he will, but mine does.

Full disclosure--I am writing as a recovering anorexic/bulimic who had a boyfriend at one time who asked me continually what my weight was. I still hear my daddy saying to me the summer in high school I lost weight when I told him I occasionally treat myself, "Don't do that."  I still hear my mother saying to me when I lost a lot of weight after having children, "Don't spend money on new clothes; you're going to gain it all back." (My husband can attest to the fact that I did spend money but still worry constantly that it has been wasted; and I equate one piece of cake with five pounds.) I am also the mother of four teenagers of various shapes and sizes.  If I'm fully honest, I worry about it. I worry about how people will judge them because I have been judged and I have judged.  Do I want to be healthy?  Do I want my husband and children to be healthy?  Absolutely, but do I want them to know I will love them, accept them, no matter what?   YES!!  I want them to know they are loved because they are worthy of love regardless of what they look like, regardless of a number on a scale.  They are worthy of love because they are people created by God and what God creates is GOOD--NO EXCEPTIONS; NO SIZE REQUIREMENTS--JUST GOOD!!!  And that ad says just the opposite.

I have a good friend that lost a lot of weight several summers ago.  She went from a size 16 to an 8.  (Truth be told at one time I believed she got too thin.)  Several months into this she said to her husband, "Everyone is commenting on my weight loss and you haven't said anything."  This wonderful man said, "I think you look good but honestly I don't think about it much.  I loved you before and I love you now.  Who you are hasn't changed.  It's you I love."  Seriously, that's what he said--like that on facebook..

I have another friend who was losing weight and her young son said, "Don't lose too much weight.  I like you squishy and round; there's more of you to hold onto and to love."  What I know about my friend is her heart is far bigger than her stomach ever was or will be; she's enough--she's more than enough.

Isn't that what it's about--loving and holding and respecting and honoring?  We are all created by God, created good--let's surround ourselves with people who affirm that; let's affirm that in each and every person we meet regardless of the number on the scale.  Let's see and like an ad on facebook that says, "he/she stayed no matter what."

The final song we danced to at our wedding was "You Look Wonderful Tonight."  Chris chose it--I said, "But you don't even know what I'll look like that night."  "Yes I do, " he said, "You'll look like my wife."

God looks at each of us and says, "You look wonderful; you are wonderful.  I know because you look like, because you are my child."

And so my heart grieves

Last Wednesday William flew to visit my daddy and bonus mama. I can't say I was a nervous wreck, but I can't say I was calm either. (And this was before I knew that Chris Jr not Chris Sr took him to the airport!!!)

He had cash; he had a cell phone; he had a slightly neurotic controlling mama keeping tabs on him through GPS. (They can also keep tabs on me which makes my "I'm on my ways" they used to suspect were not always completely truthful (and they were right--I might not have been on my way but I was thinking I needed to be on my way) much more difficult to use.) And he texted me as he boarded the plane, when he landed, as he boarded the next plane and when he landed.

This was a fairly simple flight path. William left Louisville and flew to Charlotte. In Charlotte he had a 2 1/2 hour layover, but he had a doting aunt on alert should anything happen and she needed to get to the airport. From Charlotte he flew to Tri City where Daddy and Marguerite met him in the airport-didn't just park and wait for him to come out. They drove to Norton where a hot meal, bath and a bed were waiting. William flew from one city where he left people he loves knowing we would be reunited in 10 days to a city where he was greeted by people he loves and who love him. All of this I knew and yet it was still hard to let him go. I still felt uneasy until I knew he was safely in my daddy's car. Letting your children go is hard--and so my heart grieves.

My heart grieves for the mamas and daddys who have to let--encourage--force their children to flee Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, and other countries that are infested with gangs and drug cartels.  They have to flee these countries where violence is the norm of the day; Honduras has the highest murder rate in the world. These parents see their children leaving not knowing if or when they'll see them again, having no means of communication, and knowing the dangers that could await them along the way. These parents believe they have no choice but to choose the risk of sending their children on--the risk they may perish along the way because they are convinced there is no question their children will die if they stay.

The immigration issue is political and complex.  I don't pretend to understand it.  But I do understand the fear in a parent's heart as they send a child alone into the world.  And so my heart grieves.

I Conquered Hickory Grove Road!

For four years I have had a goal--to run from my cabin to the top of Hickory Grove Road--a road that is almost a mile of complete uphill, twisting and turning so you never know when you are  near the top--you can never see how much farther you have to go-- and back without stopping, without walking, and without turning around.  Every time I'm here I try multiple times, and every time I fall short.  It almost didn't happen this year...

Sunday night I was laying out my running clothes for Monday morning, and I realized I had forgotten my shoes.  I went to SK's cabin and asked  if she had hers and if I could borrow them.  Those of you who know her are laughing but she does in fact have running shoes--they may be the same ones she's had since 7th grade and they may never have actually been run in, but she has them--just not here. (We should probably get her some new ones before she leaves for school)  I texted my husband and asked him to overnight mine to me the next day.  He responded absolutely.  He knows how much running means to me--how it is how I find peace, work out issues and experience God.  I asked him and he said yes without telling me how much it was going to cost, without asking me how I could have forgotten, without making fun of me--just yes.

Tuesday afternoon the shoes arrived and I immediately put them on and headed out.  I stopped and walked twice.  "That's okay," I told myself, "You're not usually an afternoon runner.  You'll do it in the morning."  Wednesday morning I woke up early and set out.  It felt good at first, but then my legs started burning, breathing became much harder.  I passed the campsite turn off and thought, "if they can sleep outside in this cold (I know July but honestly it's cold here), then I can make it."  Twenty yards later I stopped and walked.  I told myself I would just walk to and through the next curve.  As I rounded the curve I saw the top of the hill--I had almost made it and I had fallen short--again.

This morning I woke up and wondered whether I should try.  After 8 knee surgeries I typically don't run three days in a row, but I knew this may be one of my last chances for a long time.  All Saints is a sacred space.  It's a sacred space for me and for my children.  Over the past few days I have begun to wonder whether they need All Saints without me--whether they need this sacred space to be just theirs for awhile.  It bruises my heart to think about not being here, but it breaks my heart to think my children may need a sacred space and that my being here might be denying them of the space they need.  I don't know--time will tell, but I knew this morning that I only had two more days this week, so I set out.

It hurt from the beginning.  My lungs burned; I wanted to stop almost before I started.  I thought about my boys and how five years ago they spent weeks in the hospital battling asthma and then months and years struggling with attacks, multiple medicines, weight gain from steroids, bullying because of the weight gain, and now they were both three sport varsity and jv athletes.  I thought about the strength they had and how All Saints was part of that strength, and I kept running.  As I reached a bend in the road--a bend I think I stopped at on Tuesday (that's the other challenge of Hickory Grove--it all looks the same--very few land marks)--I wanted to stop again.  And then I thought about the babies and how this summer they went to conditioning three and four times a week because they wanted to get in shape.  They went when they were hot, when they were tired, when they had been invited to do other things--they went--and I kept running.

I turned a bend and the dogs came out.  The dogs that often keep me from continuing--force me to turn around.  They came out and they started chasing me.  I shouted no but they kept coming.  Sometimes by just shouting no they back off, but today they didn't.  One actually bit my shoes twice but by this time I saw the top of the hill and I thought, "I'll be damned if you keep me from reaching it."  So I kicked back--I was ready to fight, I saw the end in sight and nothing was going to keep me from getting there.  As I was climbing the final steep hill I told myself I could stop at the top and even walk back.  It was good enough--I'd make it to the top, and that would be enough.  As I reached the stop sign I thought, "No see it through to the end.  The WHOLE goal."  I started to turn around--I may have done a little bit of the Rocky dance and shouted "YES, YES, YES, but I was still moving.  I turned around and headed back down.

Runners know, downhill isn't always easy either.  Downhill after 8 knee surgeries is definitely not easy.  As I made my descent I thought about all the youth that are here and the stories they have shared.  The stories of dysfunctional homes, bullying in schools, learning difficulties--and yet they keep going.  They keep living and they keep coming back to All Saints, and I kept running.

As I finished my run I thought how much Hickory Grove Road is like life.  There are steep uphills--there are challenges that seem insurmountable, and often you can't see what's around the bend.  You don't know if it's almost over, when the up ends and you get a short break.  I thought about all the people I know who have overcome huge obstacles in their lives and all the people I know who are still facing challenges and who will face challenges.  I said prayers for them, and I convinced myself (or so I thought) that achieving this goal was for them--for others, but I was wrong.  It's for them and it's for me.

As I entered my cabin I thought of the life obstacles I've overcome-physically, emotionally and spiritually.  I thought of the challenges I have faced; the times I didn't know what was around the bend or even if I could make it around the bend.  And I thought of the challenges yet to come--starting with letting go of my first born.  I made it to the top of Hickory Grove but I didn't make it by myself.  I reached out for help; I asked Chris to send my shoes and he said yes.  I asked for help--something that is hard for me to do--and he said yes with no strings, no accusations, no condemnations--something I didn't always have growing up.  I made it to the top knowing this may be one of my last chances--knowing others have needs that may trump mine for awhile--but knowing that All Saints will continue to be a sacred space for me, for my children, and for countless others.  This may be one of my last chances for awhile, but I made it to the top because of people like Kendall who believe in me and believe in my ministry and ask me back.  I made it to the top because Ben and I share a passion for ministry and for youth and we have learned to work together sometimes without words.  I made it to the top because of counselors who welcome me back year after year and who I truly love.  I made it to the top because of campers who are vulnerable and brave and keep showing up.  I made it to the top because God gave me the ability to run, the strength to overcome, and enough love to carry me through.

I made it to the top and back--and I'll do it again.

Offering Space in Pain

It hurt.   Someone I love, wait scratch that, someone I love and adore said something to me, and it hurt.  Wait, scratch that it cut me to the core.  Now I very well may be being overly dramatic--I've been known to do that.  It wasn't even what was said (I don't remember that); it was how it was sad--with irritation, disdain, and dismissal.  Maybe it hit me so hard because I'm hormonal or lonely or scared or missing my family or for any other thousands of reasons.  I don't know.  But it hurt; it hurts.  My eyes stung with tears; I bit my lip; I was determined not to cry.  And I was so incredibly thankful that I was asked to do something else--something that required my action and not my feelings--something that kept me from thinking and hurting.

Yeah right--even as I did what I needed to do; even as I took care of two other people, I thought and I hurt.  As we walked I thought about how to address this or should I address this?  I wondered what I could say that would both allow me to speak my truth and to avoid being a martyr.  There was a part of me that wanted to lash back, a part of me that wanted to repay the hurt.  I started thinking about scripture and what could speak to this?  I really liked the idea of an eye for an eye--I wanted to like it even more; I wanted to be more angry and less hurt.  I realized I had to let that go. For a while I stuck with turn the other cheek; I sat with Jesus would understand the emotions going on in the other person and just allow himself to take it.  But it didn't work.  I couldn't stay there.  I thought about Jesus in the temple over turning tables and sending people scattering.  Jesus felt justifiable anger and he didn't allow himself to become a living breathing door mat.  But that story, while keeping me from being a self righteous martyr, also didn't hold my heart.  Then I remembered the rich man's question...

Actually what I remembered was one particular verse, "Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him."  (Mark 10:21 CEB)  and then "But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened.." (Mark 10:22; CEB).  Jesus looked at the man--the man who couldn't sell his possessions, the man who couldn't do what Jesus required of him--with love.  He looked at him with love AND he let him walk away.  He didn't chase after him and try to convince him that he was making a mistake.  He didn't try to persuaded him to change his mind, to admit his shortcomings and to follow.  He gave him space; he loved him enough to give him space; he loved him enough to let him be who he was with no judgment.  I believe Jesus continued to love the man. I feel certain Jesus hurt.  Jesus loves us all and wants the best for each of us.  Jesus wants healthy relationships for each of us with him and with each other.  Sometimes that means stepping back, giving space, and perhaps even giving up something or somewhere we love for the other.  It doesn't mean accepting it or celebrating it; it certainly doesn't mean it won't hurt.

We don't know what ultimately happens to the rich man.  Perhaps he goes away and comes back  Perhaps given the space Jesus offers him he recognizes he wants to remain in relationship no matter what the cost, and he comes back.  Perhaps the man returns to Jesus giving fully of himself not because Jesus guilted him or manipulated him into remaining in relationship but because he chooses to.  Perhaps he doesn't...we don't know.  But I do know the space offered remains open and available.  Sometimes despite the pain, that's all we need to know.....

I'm an out of control, control freak cleaning baseboards

They're growing up but they'll always be my babies

I'm a control freak--there I've admitted it; I'm told that's the first step.  I'm a control freak, and lately there seems to be nothing I can control.  As I told my therapist yesterday, and my best friend, and my husband (control freaks talk a lot), I feel like I am being given puzzles to put together but people are holding back some of the pieces.  I'm an out of control control freak, so yesterday when I lost all control, I did what all good out of control, control freaks on the brink of a break down do, I cleaned baseboards.

Two days ago Avett's seizures were increasing; it seemed bad. I was prepared for the worse.  Boss took him to the vet and hallelujah, they said he just needed his meds adjusted.  He brought him home, and he continued to throw up all day. (Avett not Boss) Thursday night William woke me up to tell me he was having a horrible seizure, so he and I sat with him through the night and into the morning.  He couldn't move. (Avett not William) I knew in my heart it wasn't just a matter of medicine adjustment.  We took him to the vet.  I was right--sometimes I really hate good intuition.  I called Chris and he brought Caroline because she wanted to say goodbye.   I stood there while my sweet son held Avett's face in his hands and whispered to him that he was a good dog and it was going to be okay now; he could just go to sleep.  My babies hearts were breaking, and there was nothing I could do but hold their hands and hug them.

In the age of social media, I knew I had to let SK know.  She's in Philadelphia--something else I can't control.  She's at the Episcopal Youth Event with people from all over the country--friends she only gets to see once a year; friends she loves dearly, but it's hard.  She also wants to be here for her friend's birthday; she's with other youth learning new things to bring back to their Dioceses, but she won't be coming back to the Diocese as a youth.  She's leaving for college.  She's growing up and right now living that tension between high school and college, between being a youth and a young adult; it's hard; it's emotional, and there's nothing I can do.  I try, but honestly it seems like everything I say is wrong.

Yep--sitting right there to hear how inappropriate one
his priest's (that he ordained) is

Control freaks have such a hard time just listening when someone they love is hurting. I am trying though--I even sent her a text daring her to start singing "99 bottles of beer on the wall" on the bus touring Philadelphia.  I wanted her to smile; I was desperate--clearly desperate since I knew Bishop White was sitting right in front of her--an out of control, control freak mama will do anything to make her babies smile.

Anyway, I called SK and told her.  I HATED DOING THAT!!!  I hated having to tell her something that important, that big over the phone.  You know what I hate even more?  This is the first time but not the last that I will have to tell her something big over the phone because she won't be here.  She's leaving for college and then for life, and I can't stop it.  And darn it, I've got three more that will be doing the same thing.  One day there will be a time I have to call them all to tell them something big--happy big or sad big--and I won't be able to hold them.  This time there were people I could let know.  I texted the Bishop and Ben to tell them so she wouldn't be alone, but next year who will I text?  Who will be there for her if I have to call her with something big?  I am so out of control.

We got home from the vet, and I paced the house looking for things, for people, for anything to control.  Ahh the truck!  I can make Boss get up and take the truck to get the air conditioner fixed.  He said he would get to it sometime today, but I can control this.  I CAN MAKE HIM TAKE IT NOW!!!  I can control what he does--oh happy dance for me!!!  (It helps in controlling him that it is 90 degrees outside and he is hot as hell driving around in that truck--not really good for dating--and he is an almost 17 year old boy!  Control freaks use whatever means they have for control including hormonal 17 year old boys.)  I loved that he asked me why he had to go then and I could say, "Because I want you to do it now so I know it will get done today."  Seriously in my head I was singing, "I'm in control of you; I'm in control of you; I can make you take the truck to get fixed; I'm in control of you."  And now I can start cleaning those baseboards!

Twenty minutes later the phone rang.  "Mama," Boss said (Oh please please please don't be another wreck.  Please please please), "I've got a flat tire.  I"m on 64 west near exit 7."  I breathed a huge sigh of relief and told him I would call USAA roadside assistance.  "You're not coming?" he incredulously asked.  How was I going to explain to him that I couldn't come--I was busy trying to control the universe by cleaning baseboards.  And besides he was a 6 foot 17 year old boy, he's be fine--would I have gone for one of the girls?  Absolutely--I said I was a control freak not a politically correct control freak!  I just answered there was nothing I could do, hung up and called USAA.  They got there very quickly to change the tire--love USAA.  Boss called me back, "There's  no spare."  ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!?!?!  I called USAA back and they said they'd send a tow truck and that he could just ride with the driver to the tire shop.  This was not the answer he wanted when he asked, "Now are you coming?"  In my head I said, "still cleaning baseboards, I've got one star controlled lots more in the universe to handle" but out loud I said, "You'll be fine; it won't be long."  How wrong I was.

Every 15 minutes my phone would buzz with a text--very difficult as I had to take the rubber gloves off to respond.  They still weren't there; he was hot (no kidding I wasn't yet in control of the weather and even if I were it would stay hot); he was hungry; he had taken medicine the doctor told him to take with food without food and he felt sick ("A good lesson to listen to the doctor", I thought, "if I could only make him feel sick every time he didn't listen to me--another thing I can't control!"  I'm not sure I have enough baseboards in this house.)  After 2 hours, Mama Bear control freak had had enough.  I called the towing company.  "My son," I angrily, calmly but firmly said, "has been stranded on the side of the road and ya'll told me it wouldn't be long.  It's been over 2 hours.  He is a teenager alone.  This is not okay."  (Only I get to decide what he has to handle on his own as a teenager, and hell hath no fury like an out of control control freak mama)  The woman on the other line kindly said, "Ma'm I'm very sorry.  We only have one driver right now.  You know that tow driver that was killed last week on the interstate?  He was one of ours and everyone is at his memorial service right now.  But I understand and will make sure the driver is on his way."  Seriously?!?!?!?  It is so hard for me to ever hold anyone accountable that we hire; I finally do it and find out that it's because of a tragic death?  I told her I was sorry for their loss, thanked her, hung up and hoped that it didn't say "clergy" on my membership.  Fifteen minutes later--after 4 calls from the driver trying to find Boss (seems he thought 7th street not the 7th exit--but I was nice), he was there and I could get back to cleaning baseboards.

As I was cleaning I thought, "they better not get this house filthy while I'm at camp next week."  Why did I have to think that!?!?!?!?  Something else that is weighing on my heart--this is the first time I'm going to junior high camp as the chaplain without one of mine being there as a camper.  I love All Saints; I can't wait to be there, but it will be different this year.  I don't know how it will be different, but I know it will be.  I despise the unknown that has the potential for being hard and emotional.

So I'm cleaning baseboards.  I'm cleaning baseboards and marveling at how awesome they look not covered in dog hair and dirt but shiny and white.  I'm cleaning baseboards not because they won't get dirty again-- they will.  As I clean I think about what I don't want to know but do.

Getting some sleep after being up all night

I know I will have to watch my babies hurt again: I will have to make hard phone calls again; I will have to be at All Saints without them--they will eventually leave senior high camp too--they will move out and move on, but thankfully they will always have the gifts they received at All Saints.  I am cleaning baseboards in this house, in our home, knowing they will get dirty again, maybe even next week while I'm at camp. Baseboards will get dirty again in this house,our home and I realize that life will continue to get messy and dirty--relationships will get messy and dirty.   We will have more times of  laughter in these walls and  there will be times tears.  There will be more and more things I cannot control; they will make choices I may not agree with and that I cannot control.  As I clean these baseboards I am reminded that life, this wonderful, messy beautiful life is not always (read rarely ever) something we can control.  We can clean up--we can bring love and laughter and forgiveness into this messy world, into our messy lives, into this house with dirty baseboards--but things will get dirty again.  I am an out of control, control freak cleaning baseboards and realizing that my babies are growing up, life is changing, and I can't stop it.  They will move on, but the love, the faith, the memories, the bond, those remain even when they are covered with dirt.

So I'm cleaning baseboards--to remember.