Fighting Sleep

No one knows you like I know you
How your tiny left hand curls around my left index finger
Your ear folds against my breast
You fuss just long enough for someone else to give up
Before your miniature frame goes gooey in my arms
And your eye lashes bow to slumber

No one knows you like I know you
How we see each other as halves of a whole
Your toothless grin spreads honey-sweet
And lights my heart Like a slow sunrise
as you notice me in the doorway
Once again, completing you

No one knows you like I know you
What you need
Who you are
Because I still feel you kick in my womb
Hear your every sigh
Taste your breath
And see you. Really see you.

No one will ever know you like I know you
Except God himself
Who I am growing to understand
Is more like a mother than anything else

-Rachel

This Morning (8/19/14)

Rise and shine

Little lady

Give God your glory

Of your sleepy grin

And curling toes

A barrel belly

Full of hope

My heart dances

My eyes water

Today is
Already very

Good

Dad

Jokingly my friends and I call each other "dad," and have for longer than any of us have even had children. It may have something to do with the fact that we've all been aging, and all of the sudden we seem a lot more like our fathers. The shorts got shorter, the work hours longer, and then of course came the cooking skills.

All that to say- I'm now a dad in the literal sense, and it's still a little weird to say that. All of a sudden, this switch is flipped and everything is different. I think thats the hardest part of being a parent in the beginning.

Of course I knew the standard phrase new parents hear every day, "Your life will never be the same!"
I always thought that meant in 16 years I'm going to have to start chasing boys away, or that the only TV shows I'll be watching soon will be kids shows.

Boy was that shortsighted. EVERYTHING is now put into the context of how-do-you-do-that-with-a-child. Especially when they are super young and need to be asleep in peace and quiet.

This is something I'm still getting used to.

At different points in my life, I have entered into intentional situations in order to get closer to Christ. What I learned at the beginning of each of those situations was that I had to die to the parts of myself that were not Christ like.

Moving into my church's community house taught me to hold my possessions more loosely, and getting married taught me to put another's needs before my own, but being a dad has challenged me to surrender every moment to another's needs. It has reoriented my vision as to what my "needs" actually are.

You can't compromise with a baby and say, "Hey I'd really like to go out tonight. Why don't you do one of those 8 hour sleep stints so your mom can rest,and I'll go hang out with my friends."

A baby needs you the moment they need you, and it's unpredictable and out of your control.
I'm learning to die to my desires of wanting to do what I want to do when I want to do it.

Including determining when I get to poop.

Now to to clarify: this has been what God has taught me through the process of becoming a dad. I think God desires this for all people, not just the married, not just the parents, but everyone.

I do think however, that in order to enter into actually pursuing dying to our desires and insatiable need for control, that we will have to put ourselves into a community context where we pursue this together.

This is to say, a call to singleness or not having children will still allow someone to have a full and beautiful life, but no one is called to isolation and unintentionally.

Now having written all that, the best part is that dying to yourself is a whole lot more rewarding in the long run than it feels like in the moment.

Just last night, I didn't go out, I didn't do the normal things that would have made me feel loved, or entertained, or productive in the past. I just sat there and watched my daughter breathe for two hours while she slept with tears in my eyes.  It was so beautiful just watching her.

I was just thinking about what a gift it was that I had parents who held me and protected me as a child. I was thinking about how every little breath is a gift from God.

I still want to hang out with friends, and I love playing board games, and it's important for me to do things that bring me life. However, I never thought staring at a child sleeping would be added to this list.

3 weeks 3 days

I'm finally able to share this. Before you read this very very honest confession that I wrote almost a month ago, know that I am better. I am joyful. I look at my daughter and think she is lovely and have to actively stop myself from kissing her all day. 

Still, I think this might help some new parents to know that they are not alone. So I share it, now as different person that the one who wrote it. It is ok to let yourself vocalize these things. I had to before I could let it go.

My days are a blur, and I dread the night. This morning, I had a machine strapped to my breasts milking me while I awkwardly leaned over my coffee table in an attempt to eat breakfast with my free hand alternating between bouncing my 3 week old daughter and editing photos on my laptop.  If that sounds insane, that’s because it is.
I am going insane.
Last night, she ate at around 2 hour intervals… which left me about an hour available for sleep between feeding sessions IF I could fall asleep. Every time I feed her, she is gassy and scream/cries approximately 20 minutes afterwards. Not FOR 20 minutes (the time is indefinite), 20 minutes LATER she will cry. Let’s do some math, if the child is eating at 2 hour intervals from start to start and eats for about 20 minutes, gets burped for 5-10, is soothed to sleep for 5-10, and then wakes up gassy and fussy needing to be put down again, that leaves a window of 20 minutes for sleep, followed by a second window of 1 hour and 10 minutes MINUS the time it takes to get gassy girl to be quiet.
Sometimes, I am just awake for the entire 2 hours and it begins again.
During the day, I usually sit with the baby in our living room with the windows drawn (since I have to pull a boob out at regular intervals), and “calming” music playing. Here’s the thing, when your child will only sleep in a room with white noise, there is never a moment of silence.
I have an eternal headache.
As an extrovert, with the need to achieve, the whole alone-in-a-dark-room-all-day thing is really really depressing. Sure, I could get out while Margo is napping, but then I would have to sacrifice my own ability to nap while she is napping… even if it is light and fitful. Also, I would have to cry in front of strangers. That is such a buzzkill.
I was so focused on labor and delivery that I didn’t give much thought to what it would be like afterwards. Pregnancy is hard. Delivery is harder than pregnancy, and life with a newborn is infinitely harder than delivery.
Maybe I will post this someday later when I can put a positive spin on things. People say that this will get better, but right now, I’m living in anticipation of the stress in the minutes to come. I find myself watching the count down clock in my breastfeeding app, begging it to slow down so that I can get away.
I would never leave my family, but now I understand why someone would. It’s not even about them. It’s about me. I am selfish. I want to be my own person and do what I want, when I want. I want to sleep through my daughter’s screams. I can’t… but I want to. I want to go to the freaking mall and get some clothes that hide my postpartum belly flab, are suitable for nursing, and are not sweatpants and t-shirts. I want to take back my “mom bob” haircut, as someone so graciously called it, and look like myself again.
Eveything is stripped away.
I am complete emotional nerve endings… like my daughter.

Good news! At 7 weeks, Margo is sleeping much longer during the night, and we are getting adequate sleep. She is smiling. It is amazing. 

I have much more freedom to leave the house since she does wonderfully in her car seat and takes bottles easily. I feel like myself. It's a new me, but I like her.

A Response to a Friend: Labor, Delivery, and Breastfeeding

A facebook friend wrote me about yesterday's blog post: "Hello, I personally am glad you wrote that blog. I am so scared and the more I think about it the scarier it becomes. When I read what you wrote it helped me relax a little bit and think maybe I can do this. Your little girl is so precious!! I am excited for the next step in this wonderful journey and yet I am still scared a little bit when it comes to being able to feed him naturally. So if you have any more helpful tips or tricks sharing them helped me I could only imagine how someone else feels. Thank you! and Congrats to you and Colin on Margo."

I thought my response could be helpful to more people as well :) 

Wow, I'm so glad you found this helpful. I too was terrified of labor and delivery for a really long time. I read a book called "Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Natural Childbirth" and it changed EVERYTHING. I honestly didn't know if I wanted to do things naturally at that point, but wanted to know about all the comfort methods and have as much prep as possible. The best part of that book is the first third. It is FILLED with positive birthing stories. Some of them are pretty insane. Like, I've heard of at LEAST 3 people birthing breech babies on their own at home naturally and with little pain... in fact, one of those stories was from a close friend that lives in Germany and even had her cord come out first. The baby (Amara) is perfectly healthy. Our bodies are crazy amazing. It's just a perspective shift from the American medical system.

In the traditional American hospital, Epidurals and Pitocin are almost always used. They do this to make labor as fast and painless as possible. Honestly, if all goes as expected, I would imagine it to be a pretty sweet gig in the moment. The problems come after. Because you can't feel how to push, it usually takes a lot longer and tearing, episiotomy, or forceps/vaccum are used frequently. This makes recovery longer for you.

Here are some suggestions on how to make things easier (feel free to ignore any and everything lol).

Have a birth plan and keep it simple. Think about it as a thesis. Ours was "We would like as natural and peaceful birth as possible, but are open to suggestions. If natural comfort measures are not sufficient, we would like the freedom to request speedy medical intervention."

Think of contractions on levels of intensity, not pain. They are like waves that you are surfing. The intensity will crest and then you can rest.

I made notecards with positive affirmations on them to remind me of all the things that I knew to be true but might not remember if concentrating on other things. They are pretty hippie, but seriously so helpful. My favorite was "my labor cannot be stronger than me, because it is my body doing it." You can find some great ones here and here: http://desertbirthandwellness.com/pregnancy-and-birth-affirmations/ http://www.positivebirthstories.com/affirmations/

For the labor Coach: bring a book, get sleep, count her through contractions so that she can focus on breathing, repeat positive affirmations (you're getting there, you're doing great, you're so beautiful, you'll meet her soon, you're progressing), when she is about to push: remind her that she is almost done and her body will feel better when she pushes. Contractions slow down and pushing feels good.

Breastfeeding: I've been so lucky to have a really easy time with it. When your milk comes in, it's pretty uncomfortable. Keep nursing through it, and believe it or not, cold cabbage on the breast helps a TON. I have has zero nipple pain, which I feel like a lot of people talk about. Margo must just have a wicked solid latch. If your hospital has a lactation consultant, get them there as close to delivery as possible to start off on the right foot. I personally love the "football" hold. They can tell you about it. It makes it super easy to control both your baby's head and your breast at the same time. You WILL need both hands at the beginning, so don't expect to be able to have a hand free. We watched a DVD called "Simply Breastfeeding" that was super informative if not all that exciting.

Feel free to ask me any questions if you have them. Everything is still really fresh in my mind.

Labor and Delivery: 9 Days Later

It started at 5:00. I was waiting for Teaching Pool (my church group that meets to help whoever is preaching process the scripture for that week's sermon) to start and felt fairly rhythmic contractions that started in my back. I felt like things were happening, but I could talk through them and concentrate on the conversation. When I got home, Colin had made steak and veggies for dinner. After eating, we went on a walk around the Huntington University lake (about a mile). I bounced on the yoga ball, took a warm shower, and tried to relax in the nursery as contractions intensified and began timing them. I thought they were pretty bad (I had no idea) and was having some difficulty talking through them. I began my breathing techniques and found that “dancing” or swaying through them helped with the pain. I wouldn’t allow myself to call it pain. I tried to think of them as an interesting sensation and spoke about them in terms of intensity rather than hurt.

At about 1:00 I called the hospital to see if I should come in since I was timing contractions at 50 seconds and 2 minutes apart. Dr. Harrison, the doctor on call, said that I could come in or wait a little while if I wanted to try to have a natural birth (the less time at the hospital, the less chances of medical intervention). Colin ran to the store to pick up miso soup so that I could have something to eat that still fit the clear liquid diet I would be on if I was in active labor. When he returned, it was about 2:00 and we packed the car and headed to the hospital.

I was admitted to our room (103) and contractions continued to intensify. I was calling them 6s and 7s out of 10 on the hospital pain scale. The nurse checked my cervix and said I was only 2 cm dilated. I was crushed. I asked to take a shower to help cope with the contractions and hope that it would also release more oxytocin and speed up labor. After an hour in the shower, I hobbled back to the bed and continued to breathe through the contractions. Colin helped by counting me through them as we tried to play cards and watch shows on Netflix. I was too distracted and getting exhausted. I’m not sure what time this was, but I think it would have to be about 6:00am. I was told my obstetrician Dr. Stamm would come check on me about 9:00, but he had a C-section and didn’t make it. The nurse said he would be by at about 11:00. I was pretty discouraged about it because my pain was getting much worse and I was making no progress in dilation. I had decided that I wanted him to break my water to try to get things moving along.

By 11:00 contractions were so intense, and I was so exhausted that I no longer felt that a natural birth would be peaceful. I resigned myself to a medical birth without too much disappointment, as I knew that things would go much more smoothly if I could get some rest. At this point, I had been in labor for 18 hours and hadn’t had sleep in 26.

11:00 came and went with no sign of my OB. He had another C-section and I would have to wait until 2:00 for him to come. I still had only dilated to 3-4cm. I was crushed. Colin kept helping me count through the contractions, but I was losing it. I felt hopeless.

Finally, Dr. Stamm was able to leave the OR and visit me. He approved an epidural and the anesthetist arrived promptly. Getting the epidural did not hurt at all, however, I experienced some “shocks” that I wasn’t supposed to that made my left leg bounce around uncontrollably. I could still feel my contractions although my legs were completely numb and heavy. Even having my legs numb did help a lot since I have restless leg syndrome and couldn’t get any rest between contractions because of that discomfort. They kept giving me bolsters since the epidural wasn’t touching my contractions and tried to convince me that it was going to work.

I slept between contractions for about an hour before I consented to Pitocin under the impression that the epidural would balance them out if I could just get enough medicine. Apparently, the epidural only ever really took in my legs… specifically my left leg. Every bolster just went there. It was my worst fear: Pitocin without an epidural.

At that point, I had resigned myself to a medical labor and was no longer prepared mentally for the intensity of the contractions. Especially considering I was having both natural contractions and artificial Pitocin contractions back to back. A normal contraction feels like an ocean wave, and before Pitocin, I knew that at some point, it would peak and begin to decrease. Pitocin feels like a surprise shove into that ocean. I would have a minute to minute and a half long artificial contraction followed by a minute long natural one with about a minute break between. Colin was trying to count me through them, but I could no longer focus. I began to shake uncontrollably and had a small panic attack where I didn’t think that I could breathe although my oxygen levels were normal. Colin told me to squeeze his finger as hard as I could, and it actually made the shaking stop. I toyed with the idea of asking them to take me off the Pitocin, but also wanted to whole thing to be over as soon as possible. I stuck it out, more because I couldn’t speak during the contractions and needed to breathe between them. I could tell that I was making HUGE progress, but because it had been so slow moving the nurse was hesitant to check me.

At about 8:00pm, I vomited during a contraction and knew that it was almost time to meet my daughter. My nurse told me that I was fully effaced and dilated. We started to do some “practice pushes” along with the contractions and because I could feel everything, I knew exactly how to push. Once I gave over to the idea that I had no choice, and had to finish delivery, I felt myself surrender and relax into the pain. Those “practice” pushes brought baby Margo almost to crowning, and the nurse had to run out of the room to call Dr. Stamm. I actually had to actively NOT push through a couple contractions (which was extremely difficult) so that he could get to me.

At 8:30, I began to push. Breaking each contraction down into 3 ten second intervals where I would breathe in, hold my breath, and bear down. Everyone kept saying how great I was doing, and after only a half hour at 9:00pm, they put my daughter on my chest.

I was stunned. I didn’t think that she was ever going to make it. I had been terrified of delivery because I thought that I would feel empty and hollow after pregnancy was over. Unknowingly, I had believed that if she would just stay inside of me, I could protect her. With her in my arms, I felt like I was in a dream. She was healthy 7lbs 14oz, 20.5 inches long, and perfect.

9 days later, she is sleeping next to me as I write this. Her face is more defined and I’m learning so much about her. She loves to have her arms outstretched, even out of a swaddle. She has the most beautiful eyes and lips. Although I don’t know much, I know how to feed her, and it brings me such joy to have her close. Nights are hard with a maximum 2 hours of sleep at a time, but I love them because it’s just her and I in our own little world.

I love her more every day, and although my labor and delivery was 28 hours long and I had no sleep for 36, I am happy, easily recovering, and amazed by the capacities of my body. Even though it was my worst fear, I am fine. My baby is safe, and I could do it again. God has designed women for this. We are capable. We are strong.

A Blog about a Blog

This morning I stumbled upon this. The post is called "On Daughters and Dating: How to Intimidate Suitors" and provides perspective on how to best protect girls from the wrong kind of suitors by building walls of intimidation. It was a fascinating read.

"Instead of intimidating all your daughter’s potential suitors, raise a daughter who intimidates them just fine on her own."

Yup. That was me. It still is me.

Here's the thing: I'm not sure that I became this way through the parenting techniques described in the article. I think that I became this way out of fear. There is a delicate balance in having healthy boundaries, and isolating yourself from others. Unfortunately, I have used a facade of strength and confidence to intentionally intimidate others (especially my brothers in Christ) and keep them at a distance. If they don't get close to me, then they can't hurt me, but they also can't teach me.

It makes me uncomfortable how the article speaks of my brothers. Sure, there are some dudes out there that I wouldn't want within a mile of my daughter, but there are just as many ladies that I would feel the same way about. Why does someone's gender necessitate cautionary defensive measures?

I have NO IDEA what balance looks like. I would love if my daughter had the experience that I had when seeking a spouse (if she wants a spouse). Colin was my first date, my first kiss, my first everything. No one else on Earth knows me like he does. Still, it was a painful journey to him and although I never loved another real man in the way that I love Colin, I had crafted over years the image of the "perfect" man and I loved it. To this day, it is a huge temptation to project this onto my Husband. That image is essentially Jesus (or my perception of what Jesus would be like) and no human can ever hope to reach it.

Moreover, I really struggle to have positive relationships with men who are not my husband. Group environments are totally fine, but even a purely academic conversation with one of my favorite male professors can make me very uncomfortable. No matter how safe an appropriate the environment, I am still consciously putting up walls of "protection." It makes me sad that I see all men as potentially dangerous. It brings to mind the #yesallwomen campaign on twitter.

So little Margo... my unborn daughter and great love... I want you to have the "Strength and dignity. Deep faith. Self-assuredness. Wisdom. Kindness. Humility. Industriousness." that the article talks about, but I also want you have a gate to your walls. I want you to be strong enough to listen and learn from both your sisters and your brothers and to realize that true strength does not come from isolation. That doesn't mean that you should date all the people. It just means that they are more than potential love interests. Listen and discern with an open mind before putting up walls. Sometimes real strength is being open.

-Rachel

I think therefore...

I'm writing again. It's been a healthy catharsis, but I'm struggling to find my voice. I know who I used to be, but I don't know who I am right now. Major things that I hide behind have been stripped away, and I'm trying to sort out what is left. I have this image in my head of an overly confident, in control, perfectionistic, productive, and recklessly vocal young girl. I would observe a situation and wreck havoc upon anything I deemed incorrect. In order to have my way, I became an agent of destruction.

I don't want to be that girl. I want to plant gardens and speak hope. I want to participate in healthy, positive, change. Still, there is something about the image that I'm proud of. Where is my passion? Gradually, I feel more helpless and embarrassed when I speak. This can't be humility. I feel like it's just another form of narcissism.

So where is my place? Where is there balance and rhythm?

As I look upon Christ's crucible, I know that I wont find it until this world is made new.

What a buzzkill.

-Rachel

Margo Evelyn's Nursery

Colin and I love simple clean lines, and babies respond best to high contrast so we wanted Margo's nursery to be modern and soft with gender neutral color pops. Adventure and exploration are the main themes with woodland creature accents and an outdoorsy vibe. 

I found the crib blanket fabric on Spoonflower.com and fell in love. I decided to back it with a solid red-orange and rustic cable-thread edging detail... well, I didn't really DECIDE to give it rustic-cable thread detailing, but that's what I'm calling it since I really just learned to sew so that I could make things for the nursery (shout out to Nana B for teaching me). The whole room was inspired by the fabric. It feels modern AND woodsy. 

I designed the art above the crib and changing table printed it with our new canon pro-printer. It's the bee's knees and I've been thinking about selling some of the designs online. The mobiles were a pain in the booty since I had to hand sew all the little critters for the one near the crib and then hand watercolor all the cards for the one near the changing table. Friends contributed the "Margo Evelyn" painting and vintage "M." Finally, that giant acrylic over the dresser is in the style of a previous series of paintings I did called "Elementary" that have a tribal feel with and geometry.

I think it's all about the details. From Colin's childhood copy of "Where the Wild Things Are" to my worn out teddy bear, this room has been intentionally put together with care for our daughter. 

The coolest part is that we did it together. Sure, I might have done most of the detail work, but not a single thing went into that room without Colin's input and physical carrying. Seriously. He spent HOURS putting together that dresser. Actually, the only piece of furniture that did not require assembly is my Grandma's chair (not the rocker... that had to be put together too!). He hung the art work. He painted the walls. He hung the hardware and fabric for the curtains and organized the furniture. 

I cannot wait to spend time in this room with our little girl.

Feminist Mama

Pregnancy, Breastfeeding, & the Holy Eucharist, by Valerie Geer

You lived on my blood

What I ate, you ate

These breasts fed you…all of you

I have nourished a clan with my own flesh and blood

So when you tell me that it is difficult to understand a first-century male Jewish rabbi

I sigh…patronized

We women know what it means to have someone eat our flesh and drink our blood, for you to be part of us, for your very life to depend on us

I'm bringing another girl into this world by the end of this month, and you know what? It's really hard to be a girl. Frankly, it's really hard to be a human.

I never used to identify as a feminist. I thought that the word was a label for a woman who believed that she was better than men... maybe even hated them. The word made me uncomfortable. It seemed to demand things.

I have been told repeatedly that women and men are created differently... Men to lead, and women to help. I have been told that women are weaker than men. I have been told that wives should submit to their husbands, and a true Christian woman walks with a "quiet grace."

Here's the thing: I'm wild. I'm bold, and I lead.

Because I'm a woman, this isn't ok? Should I suppress the gifts that God has given me because some people interpret a few verses differently and out of context? I mean... should I REALLY be silent in church and wear a head covering?

I make some people uncomfortable. I am confident, and don't hesitate to speak when I have something to say. Even as I write this, I wonder if people will read it and think that I am irrational or coming on "too strong," but out of a man's mouth, these same words wouldn't be questioned. Still, that wondering has never stopped me.

The other day, someone posted an article on a social media website entitled "8 Essential Rules for Banging a Single Mom." Naturally, my eyes narrowed, and brow furrowed as soon as I read the title. I knew what I was getting into, but curiosity got the best of me, and I clicked the link. I have NEVER read something so hurtful, depraved, and oppressive. It talked about treating women like "bowling balls" (using all orifices) in order to shame her into realizing her place. The author wrote that single mom's are looking for a man to provide for them, so if you want to continue to have sex with her, you should be careful to never ever buy her anything. That way, she will continue to do more and more degrading things in bed with the hope of getting money from you. There were 6 more "tips" that I don't feel like talking about.

This is the world that my baby girl will live in.

It's true that not all men believe these things. I am a part of a wonderful community that would never condone such misogynistic language, and my husband is the person who first explained to me what Egalitarian marriage (mutual submission) looks like. Still, all women are confronted and shaped by these hateful beliefs.

Slavery was also justified using the Bible. Scripture is a double edged sword, that can be used to hurt people as much as it can be used to heal. When we forget to seek the author's original intent and historical context, human interpretations fail. Most people don't realize that American black men won the right to vote with the 15th Amendment in 1870, but American women (of any color) did not win theirs until the 19th Amendment, in 1920... a half-century later. Women have been systematically oppressed for a very very long time, but for some reason, vocalizing it is taboo... a glaring sign that the oppression continues.

I don't want to rule over men. I love my brothers. I just want to see as many women leaders as male leaders. I want to be asked my opinion. I want to be asked to teach. When there is vision being cast, I want to see women present. I want my words to be as effective at making change as a man's. I want to wear whatever I want to wear without hearing cat calls or being called a slut.

I want my daughter to be valued as a person... without limitation. Because you know what? She is.

-Rachel

It's Been Awhile

I've been really active on social media and with roots-creative.com but figure it's time to start writing about adventures again... mostly because of Margo.

Margo is the baby in my belly.

She should be here in about a month.

Oh. My. Dog.

Something about her immanent arrival reminds me of preparing to leave for Asia. The unknowns create in me an excited energy that easily lead to worry. I'm asking big questions again. I find myself looking at the broad picture of our lives at the end of this season and acknowledge that change is coming. Just like I wondered who I would become after living overseas, I wonder who will I be when I have a child.

This time, it's a permanent adventure. It's like I'm getting married to someone I've never met before. More than that, my every word and action will shape her. My beliefs will most likely become her beliefs. My bad habits will most likely become her bad habits. Gosh, I hope she doesn't bite her nails like her mama.

Welcome to this new adventure. Welcome to my processing.

-Rachel

Becoming Like Christ Through His Death: Lent Devotional

Please Read: Philippians 3:4-14

I am what is called a “process artist.” My favorite creative outlets involve steps - image development, layered painting techniques, crafting a ceramic piece...etc. It has been four years since I’ve had my hands in clay, but when I read this passage from Philippians, I couldn’t help but think of
forming, drying, and firing it.

Isaiah 64:8 uses the analogy of a potter and clay to describe our relationship with God. We all begin as mud. It takes a death of fire to perfect us. Even if a piece looks perfect, until it’s put through the kiln, it’s extremely fragile.

It’s unfinished.

We can bear the appearance of Christ, but until we become like Him in dying to ourselves, we aren’t truly following Him. In the Philippians passage, Paul talks about counting all of his religious accomplishments as loss in comparison to his life lived in fellowship with Christ. None of it mattered until he gave up just existing for himself.

We can say the right things, and even do the right things, but it does matter what we are doing them for. The difference is between bearing the fragile appearance of Christ, or actually being like Him.

We must “forget what lies behind and reach forward to what lies ahead.” We must “press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

It’s about orientation. Rather than face the potter’s wheel where we discovered our beauty, we must face the cross of the kiln. Our beauty is still present, but now we are strong enough to be used. No longer are we just for show, we can be filled and emptied without breaking.

Holy and perfect Jesus, 
We thank you for your death. We praise you for your Spirit that enables us to die as well. We confess that we are prone to the narcissism of pride and the narcissism of self-loathing. Mold us, Heavenly Father, to be like Christ not only in appearance, but also in spirit. May we decrease that you may increase. For your Glory alone. Amen.

- Rachel Whitehurst

Israel is Thirsty: Lent Devotional

Please Read: Exodus 17:1-17

In Exodus 17 we observe two episodes that take place as part of the much larger story of God bringing his people into the promised land.

In the first episode, God leads the way but people get restless and put Him to the test. In the second episode, God commands the Israelites to go to war with Amalek, and they win the battle.

In the midst of the larger story we see that, as Terrence Fretheim puts it, the people of Israel are “a people between promise and fulfillment.” They have been promised a land that will be perfect and their own, but they must first walk through the wilderness. They have been walking for so long that they have become weary and distrusting of God.

These two episodes together illustrate a theme of being patient on God’s timing. In the battle with Amalek, God doesn’t allow the battle to be over in five minutes. Instead, it takes so long that Moses can’t hold his arms up by himself any longer. He needs help. God did intervene, but not immediately.

We can resonate with Israel being a people between promise and fulfillment. We have the promise that one day this earth will be made new; that there will be no more tears, injustice, hate, pain, violence, or war. We trust it to be true, but these things still surround us. We experience them.

It is passages like Exodus 17 that open our eyes to reality. We can look back on the Israelite’s walk in the wilderness and judge them with a shake of our heads. With our 20/20 hindsight we say, “you should be more patient.”

Yet God is more patient. Even though the people put God to the test, even though they quarrel with Him. He still sends them the miracle they asked for; the sustenance that they needed in the midst of the wilderness. It wasn’t the full promise, but it was a glimpse. He is patient with our doubt.

Sometimes we feel forgotten and alone. We feel as though we are never going to see God’s promises fulfilled, but we must remember that God is sustaining us in the midst of our wilderness.

This time, however, we have more than water from a rock. We have living water. Through Jesus we don’t just have a future promise of refreshment. We have it now.

God, teach us to see the big picture of not only what you are doing presently in this world, but what you have done in the past, and what you will do in the future. Help us to understand our place in the midst of the much larger story of your grace. Help us to submit to your will and your desires. Thank you for your Son and Spirit. Amen.

- Colin Whitehurst

Obeying in Life: Lent Devotional

Please Read: II John 1:4-6

In just a couple of days, I will see Redwoods for the first time. Ever since I learned about these massive trees, I’ve dreamt about standing beneath them. There is something mightily sacred about the hundreds of years represented in those ancient giants, and I just want to be a part of it.

Our culture might value innovation, but we cannot forget our roots.

I think that is what John is getting at in this passage. I read II John 1:4-6 as an urgent whisper to those who have grown cold. He wants the reader to know that this is nothing new. It’s as old as Moses - older even. It’s from The Beginning. I imagine John leaning in close to the desk,
eyes flashing across as the paper (or papyrus or whatever) as he writes, “Remember.”

And what is the root of roots?

That we love one another.

Even when we don’t feel like it.

Even when it hurts.

Even when it seems there is nothing to love.

Even when they don’t love us.

Don’t forget.

John reminds us because we need to be reminded. We are so good at justifying indifference, that insect known as apathy works its way into our branches.

Brothers and sisters, let us be pruned. The roots of our faith are deep. We will regrow what we have lost.

God of Adam, 
You bring all things into being and sustain them with your mighty power. We praise you for your patience with an imperfect creation and confess our need for rescue. Save us from our hardened hearts. We want to love as you love. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy 
Ghost; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Amen.

- Rachel Whitehurst

He Knows We are But Dust: Lent Devotional

Please Read: Psalm 103:8-14

Here is the setup to almost every action movie: There is a villain who exemplifies pure evil and desires
total world domination. That villain battles the completely selfless hero, whose only goal is to protect others. The villain is eventually slain and we all cheer because good has won again. We don’t shed a tear for the demise of the villain. The villain is one-dimensional and doesn’t require personal connection or personal response. We don’t have to actually engage because the story is flat and without complexity.

When we look at God one dimensionally, we can have a problem. Do we see God as only the God of love and forget His wrath? Do we see God’s wrath and forget His love?

When we have a view of God void of complexity, it prevents us from engaging Him. It prevents a personal response from us. We don’t need a God we can put into a box.

This psalm is presenting a multi-faceted view of God. It acknowledges His compassion, mercy, forgiveness and His unyielding, self-sacrificial, steadfast love. But the psalmist also identifies qualities about us that have the potential to anger Him.

When we fully understand who we are in relationship to God, that we are sinners, unworthy, like dust, it can be easy to desire theological answers that make us feel better. We might ignore mercy, or we might ignore wrath. Let us, instead, embrace God as our Father. As parents care for their child, He cares enough to set standards and have expectations for us. When we fail (although it may anger
Him), He forgives and will not hold onto anger in a way that hurts us.

Our God is not one-dimensional. Our God is triune. God the Son fulfills God the Father’s justice. Through Christ, we are offered forgiveness and love forever, despite our flesh.

May we find balance in accepting rebuke in love. May we find balance in giving rebuke in love.
God, please help us to see you for the divine mystery that you are. Break down the simple answers we have and teach us to see the fullness of who you are. Help us to come to your word humbly, without pre-conceived notions, as children thirsty for the Spirit. Teach us to see your image in others and to see others for the complex creatures you have created in your image. Father, thank you for the gift of your Son. Jesus, thank you for your life, death and resurrection. Spirit, thank you for guiding us in our life of mystery. Amen.

- Colin Whitehurst

Advent Devotional

Written for the 509 Community, based on II John 1:4-6

In just a couple of days, I will see Redwoods for the first time. Ever since I learned about these massive trees, I’ve dreamt about standing beneath them. There is something mightily sacred about the hundreds of years represented in those ancient giants, and I just want to be a part of it.

Our culture might value innovation, but we cannot forget our roots.

I think that is what John is getting at in this passage. I read II John 1:4-6 as an urgent whisper to those who have grown cold. He wants the reader to know that this is nothing new. It’s as old as Moses- older even. It’s from The Beginning. I imagine him leaning in close to the desk, eyes flashing across as the paper (or papyrus or whatever) as he writes, “Remember.”

And what is the root of roots?
That we love one another.
Even when we don’t feel like it.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it seems there is nothing to love.
Even when they don’t love us.

Don’t forget.

John reminds us because we need to be reminded. We are so good at justifying indifference, that insect-apathy works its way into our branches.

Brothers and Sisters, let us be pruned. The roots of our faith are deep. We will regrow what we have lost.

God of Adam,
You bring all things into being and sustain them with your mighty power. We praise you for your patience with an imperfect creation and confess our need for rescue. Save us from our hardened hearts. We want to love as you love.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Amen.

-Rachel Whitehurst

Advent Devotional 2

Written for 509 Community, based on Philippians 3:4-14

I am what is called a “process artist.” My favorite creative outlets involve steps- image development, layered painting techniques, crafting a ceramic piece...etc. It has been 4 years since I’ve had my hands in clay, but when I read this passage from Philippians, I couldn’t help but think of forming, drying, and firing it.

Isaiah 64:8 (and tons of other places in Scripture) uses the analogy of a potter and clay to describe our relationship with God. We all begin as mud. It takes a death of fire to perfect us. Even if a piece looks perfect, until it’s put through the kiln, it’s extremely fragile.  It’s unfinished.

We can bear the appearance of Christ, but until we become like him in dying to ourselves, we aren’t truly following him. In the Philippians passage, Paul talks about how he counts all of his religious accomplishments as loss in comparison to his life lived in fellowship with Christ. None of it mattered until he gave up just existing for himself.

We can say the right things, and even do the right things, but it does matter what we are doing them for. The difference is between bearing the fragile appearance of Christ, or actually being like him.

We must “forget what lies behind and reach forward to what lies ahead.” We must “press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” It’s about orientation. Rather than face the potter’s wheel where we discovered our beauty, we must face the cross of the kiln. Our beauty is still present, but now we are strong enough to be used. No longer are we just for show, we can be filled and emptied without breaking.

Holy and perfect Jesus,

We thank you for your death. We praise you for your Spirit that enables us to die as well. We confess that we are prone to the narcissism of pride and the narcissism of self-loathing. Mold us, Heavenly Father, to be like Christ not only in appearance, but also in spirit. May we decrease that you may increase.

For Your Glory alone, Amen.

-Rachel Whitehurst

One Week Old

I don't know how you do it.

Fragile neck so breakable.

Little feet that can't carry you.

Helpless.

Even so-

Exuding life and hope.

My friends are having children. I watch them having this adventure and am glad to be a part of it. I get to hold their babies. It's really an adventure for us all.

-Rachel

Closets

Tonight I opened up my closet, and I had to stop and stare. I've had a lot of different closets lately. It's surreal to see my Indonesian scarf next to my sweaters. The suitcases are stacked, as if forgotten, under our jeans and hoodies. It made me miss the constant travel. It made me appreciate where we have lived and where we live now. I don't know where we are going, but I trust that God will be with us. When your life has fit into a closet for so long, it's easier to dream big. We can go anywhere. There is nothing holding us back. We could even stay.

Back in the USA

Well. We are here, and it is just as strange as I thought it would be.

I am sitting on the most comfortable couch on the planet with three heaven-soft pillows and a fluffy down comforter. It is glorious. As comfortable as this feels physically, mentally I am sooo out of my element.

The cold does not bother me at all. I actually really enjoy it, so that it a happy surprise.

We are getting to see friends who we have dearly missed, and catch up on needed rest. God feels far away, but I know that faith is not always emotional. During my last week at Monsoon, I wrote a 7 day devotional for incoming interns that I am now going through myself. It seems like a different person wrote it.

Please excuse my brief and chaotic thoughts. Pray for clarity and adjustment.

-Rachel