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I believe.

Written on May 6, 2013 by Bridget in self

A few years ago I wrote what has become a personal belief statement of sorts. I remember struggling with the words as I was writing them and at times I still struggle with them now. But there are moments when I’m feeling a little adrift in my spirituality and need an anchor. There are plenty of creeds and writings and, of course, the bible that I could turn to but sometimes I need something that’s mine, just mine. And so I find myself coming back to this again and again. I’ve needed it lately and thought I’d share it with you again.

*****

I am a Christian.

But I am not a good one.

I believe in one God-the maker of heaven and earth, the creator of things both seen and unseen.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, who inspires, encourages and directs us.
I believe in the forgiveness of my sins through the resurrected body of Jesus Christ.
I believe in life everlasting.

Just because I believe it doesn’t mean I understand it.

I believe that the bible was divinely inspired, but written by humans.
I believe the bible may not be perfect, but it is perfectly the way it’s supposed to be.
I believe that it’s not really the words that matter
as much as the meaning of the words
coupled with the inspiration of God
that is most important.

Just because I believe the bible might have some inconsistencies, doesn’t mean I think it’s invalid or unimportant.

I believe that God gives us unlimited, undeserved grace.
I believe that God gives us unlimited, undeserved mercy.
I believe that God gives us unlimited, undeserved chances.
And I believe that, as Christians, we are called to be like Jesus Christ-who demonstrated these perfectly.
I believe that although I may not be able to really comprehend it or even be successful at it,
I am still expected to try.

Just because I teach it, doesn’t mean I always live it.

I believe that God is love.
And out of love…grace, mercy, compassion, understanding and thoughtfulness flow freely.

Just because I know love – and know it abundantly – doesn’t mean I always show it.
Just because I know love – and know it abundantly – doesn’t mean I always accept it.
Just because I know love – and know it abundantly – doesn’t mean I always feel it.
Just because I know love – and know it abundantly – doesn’t mean I always savor it.
Just because I know love – and know it abundantly – doesn’t mean I delight in it.

I am a Christian.

But I am not a good one.

But (thanks be to God)
God is love.
And even when I don’t show it, accept it, feel it, savor it, delight in it…
God is bigger than me and my failures.
God is bigger than me.
And God is LOVE.

The greatest of these is LOVE.

I’m certainly no saint.

Written on May 1, 2013 by Bridget in self

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I glanced back through my archives and I see over and over again where I’ve tried to lasso time, tried to slow it down. I say I want to savor it all, even the bad…because without the bitter, the good doesn’t taste as sweet. And it’s true. I want to bundle it up and keep it all for a rainy day. I want to be able to look back at these years and see things like they really were. Some days are undeniably awesome, others ridiculously hard. Some days full of joy and laugher, others bleak and dreary. I try to capture it all here in this space, try to give the big picture. I try to write it all down because I know I won’t remember it all. The way she says “bap-le” for apple, the way the big two grin when I wink and they realize that they know something that the little kids don’t, and even the nightmares he has when he thinks ants are crawling out of his toes. I want to remember it all, but I know I can’t. And so I write as much as I can. But even at that, I bend to the light. I tell more of the good than the bad. Is that self-preservation? Am I trying to re-write my own history? Am I doing myself, you, and my children a disservice by not chronicling the bad? Or is it just not kosher to talk about the muddy stuff? It is, after all, the muddy stuff that helps define who we are. It’s the underbelly of our souls that shape our hopes and plans. Shouldn’t we be analyzing that? And not only savoring the happy? (Could I possibly use any more ? in one paragraph)?

I recently re-read the play “Our Town” by Thornton Wilder. I’ve never seen the play or read the book when Emily’s words in the graveyard didn’t knock the wind out of me:

EMILY: Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?–every, every minute?
STAGE MANAGER: No. Saints and poets maybe…they do some.

Do we realize life as we live it? Do we see each moment for what it’s worth? Or do we focus so hard on what’s coming next that we don’t see the now? Are we so focused on getting it all right that we get it all wrong? I don’t know. I just don’t know. Although I do think that maybe I’m over-analyzing it all. Stop, Bridget. Just stop it. Stop and realize life – right here, right now. Every, every minute.

I’m certainly no saint, but I’d like to be a poet – even if it means getting a little muddy.

One Is Fun (especially when you’re saving lives)

Written on April 24, 2013 by Bridget in Bridget Blogs

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You guys know how much I love birthdays! Love love LOVE birthdays! And I’m also pretty passionate about vaccinations, so when the chance came up for me to share about Shot@Life and their one year old birthday celebration I couldn’t wait! What is Shot@Life? It’s a movement (with roots in the UN Foundation) that aims at helping children worldwide by providing access to life-saving vaccines. Shot@Life is working to get these vaccines into the places that need it most. For polio that includes Nigeria, Afganistan, and Pakistan. Many developing countries still struggle with measles, especially parts of Africa and Asia.

To celebrate Shot@Life‘s first birthday, there are going to blog posts all over the web about the movement and about their Champions. The Shot@Life Champions are a group of the movement’s strongest advocates and leaders. These men and women are given training on media, advocacy, and event planning so that they can better share the information about Shot@Life with their own community and their community’s community! I was excited to meet my Champion, Raymond Liou, and I hope that you will enjoy his story as well.

RL 1 One Is Fun (especially when youre saving lives) This is Raymond Liou, a fourth-year student at UCLA and a Shot@Life Champion. Ray is pursuing a double major in Computational and Systems Biology + Neuroscience. As part of his education, he was able to observe in the Head and Neck Surgery Department at Kaiser Permanente. Not long after finishing this observership, Ray was able to do some study abroad which exposed him not only to a wide variety of people and ideas but also with the confidence to take initiative and really pursue his dream of working in public and global health.

Ray was also inspired by the story of Paul Farmer, which he first discovered while reading Mountains Beyond Mountains*. Ray says that Paul’s “example has inspired me to become a vehicle of justice, to choose goodness and equality as my profession.” I just love that, don’t you? Goodness and equality as a profession. And it would seem that Ray is well on his way! On top of his regular studies and being a Champion for Shot@Life, he is also doing research in the Neurosurgery Department at Ronald Reagan Hospital, working at Didi Hirsch on their suicide hotline, and is a member of GlobeMed, a nonprofit that creates grassroots partnerships with organizations abroad.

After joining GlobeMed in 2012, he heard of an opportunity for two UCLA representatives to come to Washington D.C. for some training with a program called Shot@Life. He applied and is excited about the work he has been able to do through Shot@Life since he joined their team. He is currently working on organizing a Shot@Life Champion training and a polio panel at UCLA, creating a student group that focuses on lobbying Representatives, fundraising for vaccine initiatives, and raising awareness in the community about vaccine-preventable diseases and the work that Shot@Life is doing to help get those vaccines to those who need them most.

After talking vaccines and medicine and Shot@Life, I couldn’t help but ask Ray one last question. What do you do to celebrate birthdays? These days he says he’s usually travelling on his birthday, but he reminisced about one of his favorite birthdays. When he turned 12, his parents let him load up their RV with a bunch of boys and they went to the arcade and played laser tag. After that they still had energy to spare so they headed back to the house and had a wild sleepover that included gladiator-style duels complete with pillow-shields, sock-in-sock mauls, and styrofoam rods. Boys will be boys, right? In all honesty, it sounds like a blast to me and I’m trying to figure out if I can figure out a way to set up a Wipeout-esque course in our backyard!

†This is not a paid or sponsored post. I simply think that Shot@Life has a good thing going and I’d like to help!
‡For my friends who are pediatricians, I’d appreciate it if you’d take a look at this AAP link and consider joining the Shot@Life movement.
*Full disclosure: This is an affiliate link. If you purchase this book through this link, I will make enough to buy a piece of bubble gum. Or maybe half of a piece.

Lord, Hear My Prayer

Written on April 19, 2013 by Bridget in Parenting, self

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There are pictures of the Boston Marathon bombers everywhere today. And as hurt and angry as we are as a nation, as people, as individuals…I look at those pictures through a mother’s eyes and my heart breaks. Those boys are some woman’s sons. Sure, she may be a vile human. She may be a big part of the reason why these boys acted in such horrific ways. Maybe she even encouraged them in this endeavor. I don’t know. But she also could be seeing the faces of her little boys, her babies on some static-y TV screen in rural Russia (or wherever she may be) with tears streaming down her cheeks. “How did this happen? How did my boys do this? How did it get this far?”

***

A while back, I remember reading a post by Katie Granju about parenting. If you don’t know anything about Katie’s story, her teenage son Henry struggled with drug addiction until his death. A few years after Henry’s death, Katie wrote a post that stuck with me. She said:

“In those first years of this lifelong undertaking called parenthood, we look over at our own four year old daughter, happily drawing pictures of hearts and flowers at the dining room table, or we watch our six year old son carefully creating yet another brilliant Lego masterpiece on the floor, and we simply cannot conceive of any way in which that child – the one we’re looking at right in front of us- could become one of those teenagers – you know, the kind of adolescent who would become mixed up with drugs, or drop out of school, or run away.

Early on, we worry about other scary things that could happen to our children – things like cancer and car wrecks and kidnapping and lightning on the soccer field…the things that are essentially beyond our control. These are the terrifying things that give parents nightmares. But no parent I’ve ever met looks at her five year old daughter playing with her princess dollhouse and thinks to herself, “I pray she never becomes a 16 year old heroin addict willing to do anything to get drugs.” And we don’t generally watch our eight year old son play in his Little League game and wonder whether he might end up in prison at age 20.

It’s very simple, we tell ourselves when our children are little – at a time when our power as parents to direct and protect pretty much every aspect of their lives imbues us with a false bravado:

Good parents end up with good teenagers and successful adult children

Bad parents end up with bad teenagers, and unsuccessful adult children.

Right? Isn’t that how it goes? That’s what I thought, anyway.”

Even now those words can steal my air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I look at my children and I see the good, the smiles, the laughter. I also see the anger and angst and fear. And the scariest part of all is that those things I see? Are often reflections of my own self, my own doubts, my own insecurities. And that hurts. Like knife in the soul hurts.

***

You probably saw the Dove Real Beauty Sketches video this week. If you haven’t, take a few minutes to watch it here and then come back. I think a parallell can easily be drawn between how we describe ourselves and how we describe our children. We describe ourselves with harsh, hard words. But when we speak of our children, we often use softer, lighter words. Is it because we see hope in them that we’ve long lost? Is it because a momma’s eyes block the bad? Is it because they are fresh and untainted by the past? I don’t have the answers, but I know that I see something in my children that I wish I had. Maybe it’s naiveté, an innocence stolen by time. Maybe it’s the belief that good always trumps evil. Maybe it’s even simpler than that. Maybe it’s…I don’t know. Maybe it’s something more than words can encapsulate.

***

I wrote just this week about motherhood and how we are all just trying to do our best, and yet sometimes…sometimes no matter what we do (or maybe even in spite of what we do), things end with heartbreak. But it’s up to each of us to keep on trying, to keep praying, to keep doing our best to instill a moral compass that will always point to the good. You won’t get it right all the time. I screw it all up regularly. But I am thankful for parents who taught by example, who showed me that mess-ups happen and sometimes it’s not even the mistake that matters but how you handle the spill. I’m also thankful for children who look at me with big, welcoming eyes when I admit my wrongs, when I go to them and say, “Mommy messed up. Will you forgive me?” I pray that even in my failures they are learning from me – learning grace and forgiveness, love and acceptance, and how to say “I’m sorry.” God, please help me.

***

Today I’m also praying for those Boston bombers boys. I’m praying for the one who died and for the one still running. I’m praying for their family. I’m praying for the families they have hurt, both physically and mentally. I’m praying for the people who are still at work, trying to capture these tormented souls and trying to keep others safe. I’m praying for those who are scared, for those who are in danger, for those who are locked in their homes. I’m praying for our nation. I’m praying that this doesn’t become another situation where we point fingers at one group or another. And I’m praying what I pray when I don’t know what else to pray: Dear God, Love us, protect us, and let us be open to hear your voice. Amen and amen.

Church

Written on April 15, 2013 by Bridget in self

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I know for a lot of people “church” is a painful word.
For some, church is a symbol of hypocrisy and pain.
But for me, church means something different.

Church is loving – even when it’s hard.
Church is giving – even when it hurts.
Church is caring – even when the world has turned away.
Church is remembering – even when it’s easier to forget.
Church is remembering – even when it’s hard to forget.
Church is showing kindness – even when it won’t be returned.
Church is quiet patience – even when it’d be easier and faster to just do it yourself.
Church is keeping on keeping on – even when you are tired and weary.
Church is being ready, being willing – even when you really just want to take a break.
Church is having a family who take up your slack when you just can’t keep going.
Church is having a family who puts out their hand when you need it most.
Church is having a family who loves you – even when it’s hard.
Church is knowing you aren’t alone.
Thanks be to God!

*****

As I was writing this post, I learned of the death of Brennan Manning. His book Abba’s Child* was suggested to me by a friend when I was really struggling with the angry voices in my heart and head, and it helped me come to realization that God loves me no matter where I am or where I’ve been. And he also loves you and commands me to love you, too. No matter where you are. A different friend posted this video link in which Manning says: Is this what Christianity is all about? Is this the good news of Jesus? Is this the kingdom that He proclaimed? A community of men and women who go to church on Sunday, read their bibles now and then, vigorously oppose abortion, don’t go to X-rated movies, never use four-letter words (especially when girls are around)? People who smile a lot, kid around, hold doors open for people, root for the Chiefs? And get a long with everybody? Is that why Jesus went to the bleak and bloody horror of Calvary? Why he emerged in shattering glory from his resurrection? Why he poured out his Holy Spirit upon the church? Was it merely to make nicer men and women with better morals? The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus meaningless unless we knew he lived and died and rose with but one purpose in mind: Pentecost! To pour out the Holy Spirit upon the church. Not to make nicer people with better morals but brand new creations, a community of prophets and professional lovers. Men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who live in ever-greater fidelity to the omnipresent word of God, who would enter into the center of all that is, into the very heart and mystery of Christ and to the center of that flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant love, which is really what it means to claim the name Christian.

My prayer is that both you and I will boldly live with extravagant love.

Redefined {Looking Back On Lent}

Written on April 1, 2013 by Bridget in Our Photo Gallery, self

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Easter has come. Lent is over. It’s impossible not to get to this end of the journey and look back. You may remember that for Lent I didn’t give up anything but instead decided to work on redefining. I’ll admit that there were entire days where I completely failed. And there were moments when I wanted nothing more than to shout, “Leave me alone for just ten seconds!” And moments when I wanted to crawl back into bed and hide. I think my biggest hurdle is remembering to act, not react. I don’t always take time to think before I speak or act, and that tends to get me a world of trouble.

I almost felt like I was cheating when I picked redefining for Lent. In all honesty, it’s something I’ve been working on for the past year or so. There was a situation where I was slammed with some very hurtful information. I wanted to respond immediately, but I knew it would be full of snot-filled-sobbing and venom because I was hurt and angry. I decided to sleep on it and write back once I’d separated myself from the moment. And it worked! I replied in a calmer, more reasonable manner. I knew this to be true and I’d done it successfully before, but something about this time made it really sink in for me. While I’m all for living in the moment, that doesn’t mean I have to react in the moment. It’s okay to take a breather, get your wits about you, and collect your thoughts before you respond.

I found the stepping-back-and-collecting-my-thoughts bit very helpful at Blissdom. While I always enjoy going to the conference, it’s a bit (read: very) overwhelming to me at times. I took time to sit in corners alone and recharge (literally and figuratively because I carried my phone charger with me the whole time). I went back to the room a few times just because I knew I needed some down time. I sat and ate a gigantic cookie all by my lonesome and didn’t even take a picture of it. As a matter of fact, I didn’t even pull out my phone. As much as I love technology and the connections that I’ve gotten from the internet, it’s good to back away sometimes. It’s good to sit alone and eat a cookie. To listen to a grandmother and her grandchild have a mid-morning snack and chit-chat. To listen to my own thoughts without the thoughts of others invading. I’m sad that I missed Megan Jordan’s session, because she is the queen of stepping back from the world and letting her imagination have time to imagine and I think that there’s a lot I could learn from her.

So while Lent may be over, my quest to redefine myself, my dreams, my directions, and my distractions is not. And I’m glad. It’s a hard thing for me to do, but it’s so very worth it in the end. And in the now as well, really.

***

I’m also redefining my definition of a “perfect” picture of my four little hooligans, because as nice as it is when they’re all smiling and looking at me, what’s more perfect than the ones that let those little personalities really shine through?

Happy Easter, y’all!

I want chickens.

Written on March 12, 2013 by Bridget in self

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I want chickens.
And a screen door that goes THWACK and bounces - bomp.bomp.bomp - three whole times before it’s finally closed.
And a sleeping porch that’s a little uneven & rough beneath my feet, with a bed full of down pillows that hug me when I sleep.
I want open windows and an attic fan pulling the smell of love and sweat and home through every inch of my house.
I want laundry dancing on the line, and sunshine warming more than just clothes.
I want music and laughter to be the soundtrack of our days.
And our nights.

I want to toss out all the clocks and let sunrise and sunset guide our days.
I want to sit on the front porch in rocking chairs just watching time pass.
I want to listen to the cricket and frog symphony as dusk fades to dark.
And maybe, sitting in the darkness, sing a hymn or two with a quiet guitar.

I want chickens.

Is that too much to ask?

It Starts With Baby Steps

Written on March 4, 2013 by Bridget in self

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A whisper in my heart beckons me day and night.

I awake from dreams with it hanging over me, peering into my sleeping soul.
/stop/
And I roll over.

I feel it behind me, calling my name.
Bridget. Bridget. Bridget.
But I close my eyes and assume if I can’t see it, it can’t see me.

But the whispers turn to shouts.
The coincidences fall into a line, obviously no longer coincidental.
And my skeptical little mind says, “well…what if…”

“I sound like one of them,” I tell Marshall.
“I sound like a Churchy McChurcherson.”
And he laughs and pulls me close.
With his arms of affirmation around me,
I know that I must follow my heart.
And in so many ways…I want to.
but.then.i.dont.
It will be hard.
I must be careful, weighing my words and tempering my thoughts.
I’ll have to be open, honest, and – worst of all – vulnerable.

But, for reasons I may never understand, I perk up as I ponder the possibilities.
Exhilaration courses through my veins.
The moment I’ve been waiting for is here…
…it just doesn’t look like I thought it would.
My insides shiver, as if a spirit has blown through me.
“Hmmm…” I think. “Maybe it has.”

My mind whirs with ideas, and I hold them up to the light of day.
And that’s when I begin to crumble.

“That’ll never work, you crazy fool,” I hear from my demons.
“You weren’t cut out for this.”
“You aren’t good at that.”
“You aren’t big enough, strong enough, spiritual enough for this.”

“You never know until you try,” my soul says sotto voce.
“The heart might lie, but I don’t,” I hear.
And my whole self shakes as I realize that I’ve heard the voice of God.

Never so clearly as before.
Never.

And so I shove a whole lot of hopes in my backpack and I step out of faith.
I just wish it weren’t such a big damn step.

Easy Egg Mini Muffins

Written on February 28, 2013 by Bridget in Yummy in my Tummy

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We try fairly hard to eat well around our house. Fruits and veggies are common snacks. We eat whole grains and lean meats.
BUT morning is not my friend, and we usually end up eating cereal or “cereal bars” (which may have some redeeming qualities, but are mainly sugar and preservatives). And so I decided to look for an alternative, and I think I’ve found it: mini egg muffins. They take about 15 minutes from start to finish and only have a few ingredients!

You can cook these in a regular size muffin tin, but it takes longer to cook…and to cool!
Plus little hands can grasp at the little ones a lot better.

Start by whisking 4 eggs in a small bowl.
Add 1 cup of “goodies” and a little salt and pepper.
What kind of “goodies?” Cheese, meats, veggies, whatever suits your fancy!
Best part? You can mix and match your favorites, which for us is usually whatever was left over from dinner the night before.
Just chop the meat and veggies into little pieces and toss them in!
I’ve done ham with Swiss cheese, chicken and broccoli with Italian cheese, and pepperoni with mozzarella and parmesan.
**Edited to add: Make sure you grease the muffin tin with either butter or spray.**
Pour the mix into the mini muffin tin. This recipe will make 1-2 pans, depending on the size of your “goodies.”
Remember that eggs expand when they cook, so only fill it about 2/3 full.
It won’t look like much, but I promise it’ll rise.
Bake at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes, or until golden brown.
The toothpick test will work with these if you aren’t sure about doneness.
And that’s it!

The Ugly Cry

Written on February 27, 2013 by Bridget in self

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I am convinced that sometimes life is so good and so happy and so wonderful that I just can’t stand it.
And so I have to do something to mess it all up.
No, really. I really, really believe it.
Call it the curse of the twisted soul or something equally sinister sounding.
It’s not intentional.
(Or at least I don’t think it is).
(I don’t mean for it to be).
But I’m skipping along, singing some bright and airy show tune and then…
BONK!
Stupid mistake.
Poor choice.
Bad judgement.
Something.
It’s not always something big.
(Although sometimes it is).
But either way, it steals my joy.
And tears crash down my cheeks.
And there’s no shortage of sobs or snot.
I begin to empty out my aches, one drip at a time…
And they race to fall the fastest, the hardest.
(Even my tears are over-achievers).

*****

I rarely cry without thinking about a book I read years ago.
It spoke of pain as if it were a blessing, reminding us that without pain we wouldn’t know relief.
Without grief and sadness, we couldn’t ever really wrap our minds around what is good and wonderful.
Without tribulations, we couldn’t really comprehend joy.
And – in some ways – I hope that it’s true.
I hope that my tears remind me of what I have that is good.
And that the physical release facilitates an emotional one.
I pray that with each tear that falls, a pain is washed away.
And with each shuttering gasp, I am taking in a gulp of goodness and grace.
Because goodness and grace are ours for the taking.

For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. John 1:16

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