SortaCrunchy

The Year of Jubilee

The older I get, the more my fondness grows for the hymns I learned standing between my parents in church each Sunday morning of my childhood.  Those were the days before words projected on screens, when the hymnals tucked into the backs of pews were taken out and used regularly.  

But I am not so old (yet) that I have eschewed learning and enjoying the contemporary praise songs that are popular today.  One of my very, very favorites that never fails to elicit a response from me of hands raised in adoration is Robin Mark's "The Days of Elijah."  The chorus goes like this:

Behold he comes
Riding on a cloud
Shining like the sun
At the trumpet's call
Lift your voice
It's the year of jubilee
Out of Zion's hill salvation comes

(click here to listen to the Twila Paris cover)

This line makes my voice crack nearly every time I sing it: "It's the year of jubilee."

Would you believe that though I was raised in a denomination that strongly emphasizes knowing Scripture from both the Old and New Testaments, that it wasn't until I was thirty-one years old that I learned anything about The Year of Jubilee?  And all that I know about it now I didn't learn in church.

I learned the meaning of the Year of Jubilee from Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw in Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals.

When the fruits of parenting begin to ripen . . .

I am a big believer in the effectiveness of modeling as a parenting tool.

Well, wait a second.  That's a silly way to say it.  Sort of like saying, "I'm a big believer in the effectiveness of breathing for the purposes of respiration."

Modeling is effective whether I believe in it or not.

Let me try again.  In the past year, I've become much more tuned in to the behaviors and approaches to life that I am modeling for my children, and I have made a great effort to be extremely mindful of what I am teaching them through the behaviors and responses I model for them on a daily basis.  (That's better, right?)

I am an extremely emotional person.  It is no surprise to me then that one of my children is also extremely emotional.  Dacey is my Mini Me - not so much in appearance, but definitely in personality.  Around the time she turned four, I realized that I would need to focus in earnest on teaching her how to manage the many big feelings she experienced daily.

As I sought out ways to teach my daughter, it became obvious to me that I needed to better learn how to manage my own big feelings.

Although I wasn't raised in a home where happiness is the only acceptable emotion, I also wasn't taught many coping skills for anger and frustration as a child.  I'm more prone to stuffing anger down until it comes out in a big, ugly explosion.  I know all too well what it feels like to experience seeing that in a parent, and it is not something I wanted to repeat (and model) for my own children.

One tool that has been extremely helpful for me is the "time-in."  It's very simple to utilize.  When I start getting cues from my internal anger reader that an outburst is impending, I tell the girls, "Mama needs some time-in time."  And I go sit on my bed and engage in some self-talk to try to get things in perspective, acknowledging the factors that are causing anger and frustration for me while trying to get my mind re-focused on The Big Picture.

When I am in time-in, usually one or both of the girls wants to come with me.  Sometimes I tell them, "I need a time-in and some space.  I'll be out in a minute."  But oftentimes I welcome them to come sit with me.  I practice taking deep breaths.  And almost always, I pray before I get up: "God, I am so thankful that You are bigger than my feelings.  Help me experience Your peace."

Photo by seantoyer

Planting seeds is a laborious process.  The time between the planting and the bearing of fruit is time of hope and expectation, but also a time of worry and concern.  What if the seeds don't take? 

Yesterday, I got a glimpse of the ripening of the fruit on the tender young shoots I've been nurturing. 

This has been Dacey's Spring Break week, and we were gone for half a week before that.  My routine-thriving child is totally off-schedule.  Yesterday morning was particularly rough, and I was working in the kitchen when she came to me, tears streaming down her face.  She kept tugging on my hand and pulling me towards the bedroom.  "What, honey?  What?  What's wrong?"  No response.  Just more tearful tugging.  I thought maybe she had broken something - I couldn't understand why she kept pulling on me. 

Finally, she managed to get out the words, "I need a time-in!"

We went and sat on my bed, and I held her and comforted her and eventually we were able to talk through her upset.  Although I've accompanied her to time-in time before, it has always been under my direction - "You need time-in time.  I'll go with you."  But this marked the first time that she asked for time-in.  So encouraging.

Yesterday turned into a not-so-great day for me.  My emotions were already stretched thin and taut when I received a very upsetting phone call.  The tenuous grasp I had on perspective snapped, and I crumpled on the floor of the laundry room and sobbed against the whir of the washing machine.

Dacey wandered in just at that moment, and though I don't really like for the girls to see my that upset, there was not much I could do.  She saw that I was crying and sat down next me.  "Are you sad, Mom?  I'll pray with you.  Dear God, please help my mom to not feel sad.  Please help her to feel better.  Thank you for this beautiful day.  Thank you for our family and our house and  . . ."

What a welcome gift in the midst of my hurt.  I smiled and held her close and thanked God for such unexpected blessing.  Such hope in knowing that as I've turned to Him time and again in my weakness, that she has come to know The One who is bigger than our biggest feelings.  Bigger, even, than Mama's big feelings.

On this path, there is so much planting ahead of us.  It feels overwhelming and sometimes the work is exhausting.  Sometimes I have to unfurl from my focus on the little patch of earth in front of me, standing to stretch cramped muscles and brushing the dirt from my knees, and I look back over the ground I've already worked.  When new green growth pushes forth fruit, my resolve is renewed. 

I pause to enjoy the moment, then turn back to work that waits for me.  Hope. Promise. Faith. Joy.

Chorus of Joy - Linn

The chorus of joy that has been playing so beautifully in my absence concludes today.  One last peek into joy from lovely Linn:

Thank you, Megan, for the opportunity to share my thoughts on joy here at SortaCrunchy. It’s always such a blessing to find blogs that feed the soul like yours does.

Joy is both a gift from God and a project we continually work on.

Sometimes our joy sneaks up from behind and surprises us, and we catch our breath with happiness. Joy is that moment when a little one brings spontaneous kisses or when the light shines just so and makes you marvel at creation and the Creator. It is that moment when you are slicing avocados at your kitchen counter and suddenly realize that you are perfectly happy. But that is only one kind of joy.

At other times it’s all we can do to search for that little scrap of joy from beneath the rubble of disappointment. In that moment, joy is the shoulder that is always there for you to cry on, or the lesson learned that you really never wanted to learn. Yes, that is joy, too. And sometimes the joy that you have to really seek out is more meaningful and deep than the joy that appears out of nowhere.

The paradox of joy is that it is both something that happens to you and something that you make happen.

My mom tells me that as a child on the way home from birthday parties and other wonderful events, I would rattle off my lists of everything negative that happened to me that day. She had to enforce a rule that I had to say three positive things before I could say one negative thing. Now, as the parent of one optimist and one pessimist, I can understand her struggle in helping me find my joy!

Joy does not come naturally to everyone but it can be learned and practiced, as I am living proof!

Learning to find the moment of joy in a trying day is an art.

An art that can be practiced by aiming a camera and focusing both the lens and our thoughts on the small beautiful details in a busy day, or by taking a moment to read a poem or take a walk or brew a cup of tea. There are so many ways to nourish joy in life if we keep a watchful eye.

What brings joy to your day?

(Read more from Linn at PeaceLiving.)

Chorus of Joy - Corey

(another snapshot of joy from a lovely friend filling in)

“Joy is not in things; it is in us” ~ Richard Wagner

Have you ever lost something that you didn't know was gone until you found it again? 

That happened to me, and let me tell you, what a surprise it has been.  Finding this missing piece of the Corey puzzle has been such a blessing to my soul in the last few months.  Let me explain.

Back in the day, (makes me sound old, doesn't it? That's alright, I'm cool with it.) I was a reader.  An avid reader, if you will.  It feels like just yesterday, and I was 13 years old, wiling away a perfectly sunny Saturday in my room devouring a book.  My father, quite exasperated, would order me to "put down that book, and get some fresh air."  He believed my life was passing me by as I lay there on my bed absorbing the written word. 

When I had a book in my clutches I simply couldn't put it down until I was finished.  Many a night I burned that candle too long and regretted it in the morning. 

During my college years, I had to put those pleasure books aside during the school year or else I would have never passed a single class.  I simply could not choose text books over the other . . . incredibly intoxicating form of literature.  On holidays and summer breaks, I'd read, and read, and read some more. 

It was bliss. 

There was a period of 8 years between my graduating college and the birth of my sweet daughter, Sugar Bear.  In those years, I became an extremely exuberant library member.  My little green library card was nearly worn through with the amount of book borrowing I did.  It would be extremely rare to find me without a book in my hand, especially in the evening.  I often read for several hours each night.  A dream vacation for me was laying in a tent reading, then napping . . . then reading again.  Everyone around me would be action packed and taking it all in.  I was contented to have unlimited reading time. 

When Sugar Bear came around, I found myself reading a different sort of book . . . pregnancy books, and parenting books, and every single baby magazine under the sun.  I also had a period in my life where my husband was away, and I had a new little bed partner.  My Sugar Bear shared my bed for nearly two years. 

Each night we fell blissfully exhausted into bed together, and my pleasure reading silently went by the way side.  Honestly, I didn't even notice it leave. Later, I discovered blogging and so many wonderful bloggers.  I spent my evening hours at my computer reading and writing to my heart's content.  Often I'd look over at the clock, and find myself guilty of staying up WAY past a reasonable bedtime for a working mom and would rush to bed.  It has been nearly three years of blogging, and I don't regret a single moment of connecting with each and every person I have had the luck of coming across. 

Last fall, when my daughter began dance lessons, I realized that I would have 45 minutes twice a week where I could choose to focus on ME, or fritter it away talking on my phone, or making small talk with other parents.  I wanted to use that time getting some physical activity into my week, but felt a bit worried about leaving my child in her class while I walked around the neighborhood. 

Instead, I made the rather off-handed decision to start pleasure reading again.  It was simple.  Get a book . . . and read during my waiting time.  No biggie. 

BOY OH BOY was I shocked to find something that I didn't even know I had lost.  YES, I knew I hadn't been reading for nearly 5 years, but NO I did not realize that I had lost something completely different.  I had lost ME, and these past few months of reading have given ME back. 

Five months . . .19 books . . . and ME.  I had forgotten the Corey that reads . . . no, I had forgotten the Corey that LOVES to read.  I had simply forgotten, and I am ever so JOYFUL to have ME back.  It doesn't matter what I'm reading. What matters is the way it makes me feel.  JOY, and as the quote above says, it isn't the books that are bringing me the JOY . . . it is the honoring of who I am.

Read more from Corey at Living and Loving Every Minute of It.

Chorus of Joy - Robin

Still more friends add voices to the chorus of joy.  I'm so thankful for their willingness to fill in while I am away.

Our youngest just turned one month old.
His sisters adore him,
love to give him his pacifier
or cover him with his blanket
and only fight a little about whose turn it is to be the helper.
His cheeks are getting chubby.
He's only peed on me once.
And we've survived the first month of three-kid parenting.



This little boy is a true joy in our lives.

Read more from Robin at The Not Ever Still Life.

Chorus of Joy - Amy

(Another voice in the chorus of joy as we look into the lives of others these 40 Days . . .)

My home.

A place where:
~lessons are learned
~touch is received
~hurts are healed
~growth takes place
~memories are made
~hearts are formed
~meals are taken

...this is Joy.

photo by The Shopping Sherpa

As a maker of home, I have the power to create joy or bring harm.

A harmful home:
~lessons are harsh
~touch is to be earned
~hurts are magnified
~growth is stunted
~memories made wish to be forgotten
~hearts are hidden
~meals remind of hunger unfulfilled


I choose joy, because the Ultimate Joy lives in me.


He is here within these walls, gently reminding what is most important.

He is here, lifting my head when I harm, whispering "try again, beloved"


I take heed, I find:

a settledness
a quiet assurance
a safety created...

Joy.

You can read more from Amy at New Nostalgia.

Chorus of Joy - Megan

(Welcome to new readers of SortaCrunchy!  I've invited some friends to show us some snapshots of joy while I am away.  All part of 40 Days of Joy . . .)

boy!

 

open-mouthed kisses and puppy pajamas
the arch of that neck under short curls of a first haircut
wide-eyed, quiet amazement out the window at the garbage truck
red sneaks on baby-man feet
motor sounds varooming (everywhere)
a hand, warm as toast, reaching up to mine (it'll be there)
cavalier giggles at danger
your nose, my nose
night-night
my boy

Megan also blogs at FriedOkra.