The Arrival

She's here!

Perfect.

Precious.

A Jubilee!

The Wrestler

Jacob wrestling with God . . .
           seeing him face-to-face and yet prevailing . . .
                            not letting go until he's been blessed . . .

What's the message here?

Our Bible study group recently studied this story in Genesis 32.

I also read this story last February and had some interesting notes:

You too, are a God-Wrestler.  Game on.


Why?  What does that mean?


Israel means "God-wrestler" so God's people are God-wrestlers.


We have to wrestle with the stories, the questions, the meanings, the answers we get -- we wrestle with life, with our sinful natures, with the sinner we are and the saint we're called to be -- we wrestle with the commandments and our calling, our vocation, our relationships, our roles -- we are rarely still and quiet and content -- always wrestling something.  Were we created to wrestle?  or did that come later?  Is it good?  Is it sinful?  Is it the challenge?  Are we blessed through the wrestling?  Is this how we see God face to face?  Do we wrestle in our baptisms when we are renamed? (as Jacob was renamed during his wrestling with God).  Does God deliberately throw us out of joint?  Is our wrestling done alone?  or in community?  Is the wrestling our night?  When the dawn breaks is the wrestling over?  Does the dawn not come until the end of our lives?  Are we on the right path?  Are we supposed to change paths?  What does the wrestling lead to?  point to?

And the question comes:

Elizabeth, what are you wrestling with?

Recently it doesn't feel like I have an answer to that.  I don't feel like I'm wrestling at all.  Perhaps that's why, during our recent study of this text, I didn't get any big revelations.

But last February I had quite a list:

Why can't Joel and Melissa have a baby?  Why don't you just give them one?  Am I making a mistake working so hard when my children are so young?  Am I being the best mom for them?  Do I put other things/people in front of them too much?  What should I take away?  How can I plan things seven weekends in a row?  How can I jet off without them?  They are so little and won't be for long.  I should take them to gym and story time because soon that chance will be gone . . . but I'll always have the chance to lead a Bible study.  Why do we come from an ancient people who were incestuous, polygamist, lying, cheating people?  What's with this wrestling story anyway? 


Lord, I'm not letting go til' you bless me.

And God answers:

I already have.


We are blessed through our wrestling.

Again and again we are reminded that God blesses the ones who are unlikely to be blessed.

Including us.

Bound Yet Free

I just read the bible study in this month's Lutheran Women Today magazine (November 2010).

Topic: Stewardship

Deeper meaning I came away with:

Stewardship is being Bound to Christ yet Free from Chains.

We are bound to Christ -- slaves for him . . . yet not slaves, but stewards who are given the freedom to care for God's people and creation.  We are compelled to care for others with our time, talents and resources: the weak, the outcast, the outsider, the whole body of Christ, the creation, our family, and ourselves.  We are trustworthy in our serving out of response to God's gifts of love to us.

"Stewardship is an expression of our faith, and it is a communal experience." --Emily Hansen pg. 35


"Perhaps this is the mystery you call me to steward, that you love me and each of us regardless of our affection for or claim on you.


Perhaps this is what it means to be bound to Christ, to not be able to get away.  


I am not bound to restrict me, but bound in order to give me a root for my blossoming.


I need your nutrients, God.  I simply cannot be without you.


Help me spend myself, and all that you have given me, for the sake of the world.  Amen."  --Catherine Malotky, pg. 42




Bound yet Free.

Free to give . . . free to serve . . .  free to love the world.

All the while bound in Christ's loving arms.

Stewards for him.

The Tutu

What else do you do when you're waiting for a babe?

Make a tutu, of course!

Also, watch your adorable boys,

And take pictures of their antics.

Joyful Waiting

This has been a pleasant waiting experience.  Relaxed.  Peaceful.  Full of contentment.  Joyful anticipation.

I am unbelievably comfortable -- sleeping well, moving fluidly and gracefully, full of energy.

It's been nice being so ready.  Not rushed or thrown into anything.

I like that.

I like having time to prepare, consider, and think.

I'm a thinker.

It's always nice when a thinker has adequate time and space to think.  They are much happier.


And so the joyful wait continues . . .

 . . . with open arms and a peaceful heart.

Mondays

Monday is bathroom cleaning day.

And so, I cleaned the bathroom today.

Last Monday I thought it'd be the last time I'd clean the bathroom as a mom of two.

But here I am . . . still waiting for the grand entrance of #3.

I really love having a clean bathroom.  Especially on Mondays.  I love it so much that the boys skip their bath on Monday night just so everything stays clean and dry for at least 24 hours (well . . . sometimes stays clean . . .)

And as the wait continues, I'll share a few more of my "God listen-ings" this past year:

• Go.  Do as I say.  I know what I'm doing.
• Live bountifully!
• Build your life, your thoughts, your hopes, your words, your actions on Me.
• On your feet -- get moving!
• Live entirely before me!
• Live to the hilt!
• Nothing is impossible for me.  Nothing.
• I know what I'm doing.   Trust Me.
• You're my daughter -- Live Bountifully!  And your children -- Triumphantly!
• I'll stay with you.  I'll stick with you until I've done everything I promised you -- fulfilled through Jesus.
• You can do all things through Christ -- who strengthens you.
• You too, are a God-Wrestler.  Game on.  [I have some interesting notes on the wrestling story in Genesis 32.  That's for another post . . . remind me.]
• I am here.  and I am your God.
• Life is mine to give and take.
• I know what I'm doing.
• I am your God.  You are my people.
• I know what I'm doing.
• I will give you strength.
• I will give you the words to say.
• I am your guide.
• I will never leave you.
• I know what I'm doing.  Follow Me.
• I'll make sure you live a full and complete life.
• I am here.  Just look!  I am guiding you.
• I will dwell in you -- you are soaked in holiness.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

Even if it's not -- it will be a day . . . 

 . . . soaked in holiness.

And a clean bathroom to boot.

Church Family

If you don't know, having a church family is an awesome experience.

This morning I walked through the double glass doors to a whole crowd of people welcoming me, shaking my hand, giving hugs, and asking . . .

"You're still here!?!"

Today is my due date.

And yes, I'm still here.

What a gift to have a whole congregation thinking of me, praying for me and loving me.

I've been blessed enough to always have a church family to call home (sometimes more than one!)

I grew up running the halls and eating potlucks at Gideon Lutheran.  That's where I first played the piano in front of a group of people and helped lead music.  I lost one of my teeth in the boys' bathroom (well, my brother yanked it out while my parents were setting up communion on a Saturday).  I passed notes (and shoes) underneath the table during confirmation class, and stayed up late laughing with friends at lock-ins.  I tasted wine for the first time and hated it.  I sang in Christmas programs, learned in Sunday school, and found out the fireside room was the best hiding spot for hide-and-seek.

When I went off to college, I knew I needed a church home and found it at First Lutheran.  Eventually I started volunteering with kids and ended up as their Youth Director for six years after graduating from college.

Now, at Immanuel, I'm one of the "moms".  My kids run through the narthex, narrowly missing shuffled footsteps while cramming cookies in their mouths.  My boys are in the Christmas programs and coloring Jesus pictures in Sunday school.  My four year old sings the liturgy at home in the living room.   I stand in the narthex talking with others while my kids "patiently" wait.  (That's the other thing I remember about growing up . . . we were always the last to leave.  I still am.)

Yup.  Being part of a church family is pretty much an awesome experience.

Oh, don't doubt that there are bumps and wrinkles in the journey.  It's a family for goodness sakes!  There is conflict and odd opinions and hurt feelings and misunderstandings.  But isn't that a part of all families?  Especially when your family reunions are every week and over 100 of you show up every time.

But it's worth it.

Just think:  when I go into labor (any day now . . .) I will have a whole flock of people praying for me and our little babe.  I will be surrounded by a whole cloud of witnesses.  And the next Sunday when I show up with a tiny bundle of pink, there will be joy.  Amazing.

Granted, being part of a church family doesn't just happen on its own.  You have to show up.  You have to be present.  You have to take the time to talk and get to know those around you.  You have to sign up and participate.  You have to show up for potlucks and be willing to sit by someone you don't know.  You have to help on church clean-up days or volunteer to fold bulletins or be part of a small group or Bible study.  Of course, you're still part of the family if you don't do any of these things -- but you're like a distant relative -- some people recognize your face and maybe know your name.  Maybe.

But to really be a part of a family . . . . it's obvious, isn't it?  You have to be part of the family.

And suddenly you realize . . .

you are part of a gift.