You Can't Take It With You

Even as a baby, Hannah had boxes of books to unpack after a move. 

You should see the rest of our bookshelves...

 A certain ruler asked him, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

 

“Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not commit adultery, you shall not murder, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, honor your father and mother.’”

 

“All these I have kept since I was a boy,” he said.

 

When Jesus heard this, he said to him, “You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

When he heard this, he became very sad, because he was very wealthy.

Luke 18:18-23 (NIV)

I've been thinking a lot about stuff. My lots and lots of stuff, to be exact. I really love my stuff. Do you love yours?

Remember the story of the rich ruler? This rich man asks Jesus how to gain eternal life. He's been a good person, and followed all the commandments, he says. Jesus tells him, “You still lack one thing. Sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” The guy is sad because he's so rich, and he goes away. He can't do it. His stuff counts for too much.

Shortly after we were married, Jonathan was studying this, and he called me at work to say, "I think this is a really important verse. What if Jesus said that to us? That we should sell all we have and give the money away?"

As you know, I'm practically Mother Teressa, so I said, "Of course, dear. When's the yard sale?"

Yeah right.

I said, "We just got a queen sized mattress. Are you nuts? I'm not giving away my stuff. Besides, by some standards, we are poor. Maybe someone will give money to us!"

Well, it's some years later. I still very much appreciate our larger bed. But Jonathan's question has stayed with me all these years. (He, on the other hand, doesn't remember the conversation.) I often wonder what it would be like if we had less, if we lived more simply, if less of my life was dedicated to the acquisition of and care for THINGS.

I knew a woman who was called to overseas mission work, and she sold or gave away almost everything she owned. She reduced her entire household to a trunk filled with only the most important mementos: some things that had belonged to her parents, and a few precious keepsakes from her children's growing-up. Could I do that?

On the other hand, these things that are so important to us may not be treasure to anyone else. I recently watched the TV show Hoarders for the first time, and was amazed by the real, emotional attachment people had with their stuff. I'm not a hoarder - you can even see the floors in my closets - but I really do have a deep attachment to many of my things.

As I was pondering all of this, I remembered someone we knew whose husband had a really impressive library. The kind of library I dream about, with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books. A whole room of books. Just think about all that knowledge! It makes me excited just thinking about it!

The man died, and his wife was left with the task of doing something with all those books. She called the public library, and they came and took many volumes for their shelves. The she called us and offered any books we wanted. She thought we'd be interested because he had a large selection of books on religion. And she was right. We left her house with boxes of books. And she was disappointed because it looked like we had hardly made a dent. What was she going to do with all those books?

(Jonathan reminds me that in a few years, my dream of a home library will be obsolete, and our kids will think I'm nuts because I collected paper books. I would hit him over the head with a Kindle, but then I remember how expensive it is to move...27 boxes of books during our last transition.)

The point is, this man spent a lifetime accumulating books, which he read and enjoyed, but the library was important only to him. No one else wanted it in its entirety.

What about all the things I love so much? A porcelain piano figurine I bought in Spain, but is now broken and in box in the attic? A piece of needlework my grandmother painstakingly stitched, but looks too 1970's to display? A shelf of music books that I used to love to play, but now sit collecting dust in the bedroom (the only use our piano gets these days is from the Disney Movie Songbook)? No one wants that stuff. I'm not even sure if I want that stuff. But it's my stuff. I've moved it eleven times. I need it, right?

No, I don't need it. But, I want it. I recently discovered this wonderful advice from William Morris: "Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful." My mementos are beautiful to me (even if only to me). The man's library was useful to him...and in small doses, to others as well.

I think that this matter, like so many others, is about balance. I want my house to be full of useful and beautiful things, so that doesn't mean narrow it down to a steamer trunk. It simply means to eliminate the fluff.

I think I would be happier with less fluff.

Now excuse me, while I go rearrange my bookshelf...

Story Bible Moms: Esther the Beauty Queen

Yes...that's a picture of 18-year-old me in a tiara. 

There's a little bit of an explanatory note at the bottom of the post, in case you're curious.

***

I had a lot of fun last year writing the “Story Bible Moms” series.  This was conceived of as a series of devotions for moms, especially of young children.  I had a lot of really encouraging feedback about these devotions – from women of all ages.  But when Lydia was born, something had to give, and this (among other things, like dusting and putting away shoes) fell to the wayside.

In the last several weeks, I’ve found myself thinking of what I should write about.  To me, this is a sure sign that it’s time to dust off my keyboard and get back into the habit of writing something down!  To clinch the deal, on the say day that I was seriously considering this, a friend told me that she just found Wee Warrens, and read through many of the posts.  She especially appreciated the devotionals, she told me.  So here I am, making a best effort to write some more devotionals – with some degree of regularity. 

***

When the turn came for Esther (the young woman Mordecai had adopted, the daughter of his uncle Abihail) to go to the king, she asked for nothing other than what Hegai, the king’s eunuch who was in charge of the harem, suggested. And Esther won the favor of everyone who saw her. She was taken to King Xerxes in the royal residence in the tenth month, the month of Tebeth, in the seventh year of his reign. Now the king was attracted to Esther more than to any of the other women, and she won his favor and approval more than any of the other virgins. So he set a royal crown on her head and made her queen instead of Vashti.

Esther 2:15-17 (NIV)

Our church has been reading through the Bible over the course of a year.  We started in September, and have just finished reading the book of Esther.  If you haven’t read the story of Esther lately, you should.  It’s a fairly short book, only 10 chapters, so you could get through it in a sitting or two.  But here’s a five sentence synopsis: The fickle king gets rid of his queen and needs a replacement.  This turns out to be Esther (a Jew, but she doesn’t tell the king this), who basically wins a grand, kingdom-wide beauty contest, aided by shameless working of the system, being clever, and quite a bit of gumption.  A plot is revealed, where the king’s right-hand man is going to kill all the Jews.  Esther puts on her best dress and summons that trademark gumption, and at the risk of her life, asks the king to save her people.  He does.

A few months ago, I read an article that a friend posted on Facebook.  It talked about how we, as a society, talk to little girls.  Our automatic response to girls is to comment on their appearance.  “Well, don’t you look pretty?”  “That’s such a lovely dress you’re wearing.”  “What a beautiful little girl you are.” 

You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?  Since I read the article, I’ve been hyper-aware of this kind of talk.  And it’s not only directed at my daughters.  I find myself using the same kind of script with other little girls that I converse with.  It’s deeply ingrained.  And besides, they do look pretty.  They do have lovely dresses. 

The author of the article argued that we should emphasize other parts of a girl’s character, and not only their physical appearance.  She suggested asking little girls which book they’ve recently enjoyed reading.  Sounds like a good idea, doesn’t it?  But old habits die hard.

When I read Esther, this article came to mind.  Esther isn’t just the queen, she’s Miss Universe.  She had the right look, the right evening gown, and said the right things during the king’s…um…interview (read: test-run in the royal night chamber).  To most folks, including the king, Esther was for the most part, a pretty face.  She was the poster child for “Oooohh…don’t you look pretty today in that frilly dress, Esther.”

And then she needed to stand up for something.  And she did.  Majorly.  Enough so that there is an entire book in the Bible devoted to her story, and a holiday (complete with its own special cookies) to celebrate the amazing save of her people that Esther pulled off. 

So this gives me a little hope.  Because truth be told, Hannah beams when someone gives her a compliment – whether it’s on her dancing, her vocabulary, or her hair bows.  And another truth is that this mama outfits her with the fancy hair bows because I want her to look pretty and girly.  But the story of Esther tells us that you can be pretty and smart.  You can be Miss Universe and negotiate major political deals with heads of state.  These are not mutually exclusive character traits.  And good thing too, because even though I’ve tried and tried to remember to ask little girls what book they’ve been reading, the first thing out my mouth is still “Gosh, I like your pink sparkle shoes!”

(And just in case you were wondering, I am in no way knocking pageants.  Except maybe the “Toddlers in Tiaras” kind.  But I think that the real kind, where young women use their skills – including their poise and beauty – to win scholarship and participate in philanthropic endeavors, are a good experience for girls.  I participated in this kind of pageant as a teenager, and it was one of the most rewarding experiences of my high school and college years.)

Story Bible Moms: More from St. Patrick

Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me!
Christ below me,
Christ above me.
Christ at my right,
Christ at my left!
Christ in breadth,
Christ in length,
Christ in height!

From St. Patrick's Breastplate

This week, I'm continuing with our meditation on St. Patrick's writings. This excerpt is also from his "Breastplate," or the prayer Patrick said when he was hiding from persecution. This is the part of the prayer I'm most familiar with.

I want to share a story with you that has to do with the prayer, but it will take awhile to get there. Hang in there with me for a while...

I have a Bible I was given as a third grader. For some reason, this is the traditional age in many Presbyterian churches when kids get their first "grown up" Bible. The congregation of my childhood is nothing if not traditional Presbyterians, so at the ripe age of 8, I was presented with this book. It sat on my shelf for many years. I remember reading Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Paterson when I was in middle school, and wondering if the quoted verse ("Jacob have I loved, but Esau I have hated") was really in the Bible. I asked my mom, and she pulled my very own Bible off the bookshelf, and said, "Look it up." Well, the verse really is in there, and from then on, the Bible remained on my bookshelf in my bedroom.

As I grew a little older, I learned a more disciplined way of studying scripture. I also began writing prayers and quotes in the margins and the inside cover. But when I came across this bit of St. Patrick's Breastplate (not knowing it was part of a much longer work), I knew it deserved a place of pride in my quote collection. In my very best 16-year-old cursive, complete with curlicues, I copied this prayer right onto the title page, just under the words "Holy Bible."

For as long as that Third Grade Bible was the Bible I most used - until I was well into college - every time I opened the book, I paused to read these words of Patrick. The prayer is so powerful! Knowing the circumstances under which Patrick first prayed these words, that he was hiding from a would-be assassin, the power seems even greater.

But even on a most ordinary day, inviting Christ to surround us, not just sort of around, but in every place on every side in every dimension, this is a true invitation to change in our lives.

This Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent, the season of preparation for Jesus death on the cross, and resurrection from the grave. Depending on one's tradition, people give things up for Lent: meat, chocolate, Facebook. On Wednesday night, I asked Jonathan if our family should take up one of these disciplines. He had just preached a really lovely sermon about how Lent is meant to change us; to make us more Christ-like. He wisely asked, "How is giving up chocolate going to make you a better person?" I honestly replied, "It's not. It would probably make me a very unpleasant person."

And so I begin this year's journey to the cross with no "sacrifice," no tangible devotional exercise. But reading this ancient plea for Christ's safekeeping, I am reminded that nothing changes us more than truly, honestly, and completely inviting Christ to be in us and work through us. This prayer of Patrick's, if earnestly said, is asking for change in the deepest and most complete way.

Asking the Living God to surround us in every possible way is perhaps worthy of being written on the title page of every book we read, every endeavor we begin, and every day that we live.

Story Bible Moms: Praying with St. Patrick

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I am reflecting on some of the writings of St. Patrick for March's devotionals. This week's is from what his probably his best-known writing, a hymn referred to as The Breastplate. During a time of persecution, Patrick used this prayer as a guard (hence the "breastplate") against his would-be enemy.

As is typical in Celtic spirituality, nature figures strongly into the scheme of things. While this is a lesson we tend to forget, Patrick is much like his psalmist predecessors in invoking the works of nature - the works of God's hand - when speaking to God.

So here is a portion of St. Patrick's Breastplate:

I bind myself today to the virtue of Heaven,
In light of Sun,
In brightness of Snow
In splendour of Fire,
In speed of Lightning,
In swiftness of Wind,
In depth of Sea,
In stability of Earth,
In compactness of Rock.

I bind myself today to God's Virtue to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's Word to speak to me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's way to lie before me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to secure me,
Against snares of demons,
Against seductions of vices,
Against lusts of nature,
Against every one who wishes ill to me,
Afar and a near,
Alone and in a multitude.

I almost feel like this speaks for itself, and I don't really have anything to add. But I guess I can say that the line that speaks most loudly to be is "God's eye to look before me." It seems to me like I've lived most of my life seeking to follow God, which is a daunting task. It's like of like putting on a blindfold and saying, "Okay, God, tell me how many steps to take before I turn." Again and again, I'm reminded of the saying, "We make plans and God laughs."

This can be really frustrating, especially when I'm really proud of my plans, or have spent a lot of time in the details. It's sort of like when Hannah wants to play blocks, and I construct and really cool castle with towers and a moat, and her great delight is in kicking the whole thing over, just so she can yell, "Mama build a tower and Hannah knock it down!!!"

Now I don't think God fells my plans just for the fun of it; rather it is because my plans weren't the right ones in the first place. The truth is, it can be a bitter pill to swallow. But as Patrick so poetically reminds us, we trust in God's eye to look before us. God knows what's happening down the road, when we have no clue. God sees a picture bigger than we can fathom. God isn't a two-year-old, kicking down our beautiful castles for fun. God is looking ahead of us, guiding us around roadblocks we can't see, making sure that in our blindfolded stumbling, we don't fall into a hole.

I encourage you to read Patrick's prayer again. What lines stick out to you? Where do you see God in nature? Which aspect of God is present in your life this week?

Story Bible Moms: There Were Three in the Bed and the Little One Said...

Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.
Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm.
But how can one keep warm alone?
Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12 (NIV)

Although not one of the more conventional "wedding verses," this was the scripture passage read at our wedding. Or course, I really like it. I think it really highlights some of the best parts about being married. Being a stay at home mom, I have gained a new appreciation for the first line, about having a good return for one's labor. The truth is (and all the parents out there know this one), practically no one tells you you're doing a good job parenting. You might get the random criticism from a stranger at the grocery story, or dirty looks from people who think children should be seen and not heard (did those people ever have children?!), but praise for a parenting situation well done is few and far between. Enter your spouse - the one person who knows what it is you're dealing with, and can offer you some appreciation and support.

As newlyweds, the bit about two keeping each other warm in the bed made me giggle. But five years and one (almost two) kids later, I see the wisdom that the old preacher was getting at when he said this. Yeah, this is literally true (the bed really is warmer with two), and true in other ways too. But the metaphor goes beyond this. Life is warmer with two than with one. It is easier to weather life's storms, to keep out those cold blasts of misfortune and trouble, when you have someone to snuggle up with.

And the last line of this verse is the most enigmatic of all: "A three strand cord is not easily broken." So far, we've been talking about two, and suddenly, there's three. The obvious thing, and definitely true, is that with God in your marriage, it becomes stronger, closer, and better than with just the two of you. But lately, I've been thinking that there's another kind of addition that makes a family stronger and closer: children. Even if it's a simple matter of presenting a unified front when it comes to "eat your peas," or something more complex, like all sitting down together to say night time prayers, the three of us are stronger than two.

However, I will say that while two in the bed is warm, three in the bed can sometimes be crowded, and in anticipation of a fourth strand to our cord, Hannah has been demoted to a sleeping bag on the floor next to Mama and Daddy's bed for her nighttime wanderings.

Story Bible Moms: If Love is Patient, What is This Emotion?

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Have you ever heard about the exercise where you remove the word "love" from this passage and replace it with your name? As in "Siobhan is patient, Siobhan is kind. Siobhan does not envy, Siobhan does not boast, Siobhan is not proud." This is an admirable devotion, and worth doing. The point of it, I think, is to make us realize how far we have to go if we are to love one another perfectly. Yep...that far.

I get as far as "Siobhan is patient," and I feel so overwhelmed that I usually stop. Patience is not my strong suit. In fact, I am really, really impatient. With so many things: waiting for water to boil, traffic lights, people who don't put on their shoes quickly enough (you know who you are). But I'm impatient with real stuff too, like the nine impossible months it takes for a baby to gestate. Why so long?! Or the years it takes to pay off a mortgage. I mean, why can't we just have infinite amounts of money and pay cash for the house? Wouldn't that be nicer all around?

Last week, my mom came to visit. We had a wonderful time. She and Hannah are great friends, and they did everything together. (The morning after Mom left, Hannah looked around and asked, "Where's Gwamma? Did she have to go home so Gwampa wouldn't be sad?") Mom's visit coincided with an especially intense period of potty training, and she remarked on her last night here that she felt like she'd spent the entire trip in the bathroom. Tell me about it! I feel like I've spent the last six weeks in the bathroom, somehow garnering enthusiasm for the littlest drips and drops in the plastic potty. And boy, has it tried my patience!

But I've been thinking, and realized that's a rotten attitude to have. After these weeks of learning have passed, this is going to make my life much easier. No washing and folding diapers (until June), no planning my laundry around the weather so that I can hang said diapers on the clothes line (until June), no endless unbuttoning of pants (until June). Isn't being happy that my child is learning a major life skill much easier to stomach than the results of diaper usage? Somehow, the surprising well of patience I discovered when Hannah was learning the ABC's or to put on her own shirt did not translate to this experience. But seriously, this is much more important that those.

On the other hand, if "love is patient" is a quality to which I aspire, I think it goes the other way, too. Because I love, I somehow, deep down inside, have the ability to be patient when it really counts (or at the very least, appear to be patient on the outside). I did sit in the bathroom for hours at a time. I did clap and cheer for every drip and drop. I did produce an appropriate amount of enthusiasm and perseverance to impress on Hannah the importance of this endeavor.

So while Hannah is learning about wet and dry, I think I've learned a lesson too. Maybe I can't take a 2000 year old piece of poetry that people read at their weddings and turn it into a platitude about potty training. "Siobhan is patient" is just not true most of the time. But "love is patient" is absolutely true. Love is the only reason I have any patience at all. It is love that allows any of this to happen. If I did not love Hannah, I wouldn't care about this potty business. If Gwamma did not love Hannah, she would not spend her vacation sitting in the Rubber Duck Bathroom, but would be doing something more enjoyable. So maybe it's not us at all...maybe it is, in fact, all about love.

Story Bible Moms: Mashed Potato Soup

Better a small serving of vegetables with love than a fattened calf with hatred. Proverbs 15:17 (NIV)

Have you ever read the book of Proverbs? It's full of pithy little sayings, one after another, with few apparent connections. Some of them are really well known: Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them. Prov. 13:24. (My opinions of this verse will be saved for another day.) Some are downright weird (although they might be true): Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful woman who shows no discretion. Prov. 11:22.

But there are some real gems of beauty and wisdom tucked into this little book of the Bible, and one of my favorites is this verse about humble vegetables served with love being better than an extravagant feast served with hatred. I think I like this verse so much because I know that it's true. I'll bet you know exactly what I mean. Think about a meal you have had where there was stony silence, or awkward small talk, or no one would quite get to the point of how they were really feeling. You couldn't think about the food, even if it was good, because you were so caught up in the emotionally charged atmosphere around the table.

Perhaps you can remember a holiday meal, a Christmas dinner or someone's milestone birthday, where people have spent all day in the kitchen preparing a huge feast. The table is set with the best tablecloth and the china and the real silver. There is an enormous spread of food. Everyone sits down to the table, but the afternoon has already been too long. Maybe Aunt and Uncle had a spat about whether or not watching the football game was a good idea. And Junior is unhappy because he'd rather be playing video games. And you know, your sister is being so...well...you don't think you're going to speak to her for the rest of the night, even if it means you can't ask her to pass the butter. Grandma tries to get everyone to talk about something innocuous, like the weather, but it just doesn't work. Everyone just shovels down all that good food so they can hurry back home.

Now think about the simplest dinner: mac and cheese from a box, or frozen pizza, or yesterday's leftovers...nothing special or fancy, but the whole family was there, conversation was good, and everyone was just happy to be spending some time together. There is laughter and everyone lingers a little at the table, even when all the food is gone.

When Jonathan and I were very, very newlyweds (think weeks after the wedding), I was attempting to make mashed potatoes for supper. By a slip of the hand holding the milk jug, they turned into mashed-potato-soupy-mess. I was so disappointed, and supper was ruined, and it turned into one of those things where I sat on the kitchen floor and cried. After much persuasion from Jonathan, who insisted that he liked potato soup (which he does not, by the way), it came out that although I wished I hadn't ruined the potatoes, what I was really upset about was an upcoming exam, and moving to a new state, and for goodness sakes, we'd only been married for a few weeks, and it was all rather overwhelming!

I don't even remember if we ate those potatoes, but I do remember what a relief it was to have someone's shoulder to cry on. How much it mattered that someone loved me, even if the dinner turned out bad and we had to dig in the couch cushions for $2 to eat at the pizza dive down the street. That love trumped a perfectly executed meal. Incidentally, "it's not about the mashed potatoes" has become a proverb spoken often in our household, meant to clarify that whatever stupid thing I'm acting upset about is just a front from something else that's actually bothering me.

Old Solomon had this one right on the money, didn't he? It is so better to have a small serving of vegetables (or Easy Mac) where love is, than pull out all the stops, roast the fatted calf, and sit around the table glowering at each other.

Story Bible Moms: A Change of Heart

I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:26 (NIV)

Let me tell you about a change of heart I had this week. Hannah broke something, and it was of the "I'm going to take this apart" variety, definitely not an accident. To say that I was unhappy about it is an understatement. I was downright mad. And I told her so. Want to know what she did? She came over to me, gave me a hug, and said, "I'm sorry, Mama. You not be sad anymore."

Well, I felt my heart a-changin. In that instant, with a two-year-old's sincere apology ringing in my ears, that heart of stone I'd had just minutes before melted away into a heart of flesh. All I could do was return Hannah's hug and forgive her. (Although to be completely honest, I'm still not happy about the broken item and all similar items have been retired to the closet.)

Isn't the verse from Ezekiel like the ultimate change of heart? What would it feel like if you had a heart of stone and God took it and gave you heart of flesh in its place? It kind of makes me think of When the Grinch Stole Christmas, how the Grinch's heart started out two sizes too small, and then grew three sizes. I've always liked the part in the movie where the heart gets so big, it bursts through the frame. Like he suddenly has so much goodness in there, it's too big to contain. I think that's what it would feel like if we had the heart that God means for us to - too much goodness and love and caring to keep it in, so it would just go bursting out all over the place.



That doesn't happen very often, does it? It's kind of easier to keep our nice little hearts in their containers, tidy, private, and unassuming. If we all went around bursting out all over with love, wouldn't that make us a pretty spectacle for everyone to see? But that's exactly the way that God means for us to live our lives. We're supposed to love each other that much. We're supposed to be full of joy and goodness, to the point of just radiating it out to everyone else. What if God took your heart of stone? What would that mean for your life?

Want to know why it works? Just like Hannah's hug and "I'm sorry" changed my heart in an instant, so does our "I'm sorry" change God's. Because - and you know this, moms - that little voice doesn't un-break our stuff, but it sure goes a long way toward making everything all right, doesn't it? And our sincere prayer to God may not undo the things we've done, but as a parent, God hears us with the same love that we hear our own children.

What if this was your prayer this week? "God, change my heart of stone to a heart of flesh." What do you think would happen in your life? Let's try it out, and see...

A Devotional for Story Bible Moms

This is the first in a series of short devotionals especially for moms of young children. Please check back next week for more.


I read about these moms who say that they get up an hour before anyone else in the house, settle down with their cup of coffee, and spend some quiet time reading scripture or praying. What a good idea! What a wonderful way to start a busy day. What a grounding, spiritual time. It makes me think of my favorite Martin Luther quote, "I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer." Or maybe the mom version of this is, I shall spend the first half hour (or 15 minutes would be nice, right?).

Here's true confession time. I am certainly not the first person to rise in my household, and if I can help it, I'm usually the last one up. Nor am I the last person to go to bed at night, making quiet prayer time in the evening an impractical proposition. So that nice, grounding time that I know would make my whole day better, well, it just doesn't ever happen.

In fact, many times my daily scripture reading is from Hannah's story Bible. My time for prayer and reflection is listening to her little voice recite the bedtime prayer I taught her. While maybe I can pretend that this is the proper spiritual life for a mom, the truth is, it's not. In fact, I'm dreading the day when Hannah is old enough to ask me what I pray for, and I'll have to tell her that sometimes, I don't.

And I'm sure that I'm not the only person in this boat. Am I right?

Last weekend, Jonathan took Hannah to the library, giving me a precious hour to myself. He asked, "What are you going to do? Read? Sew?" I said, "Wash my hair with no interruptions!" (My morning shower usually sounds like the courtroom scene from Legally Blonde. "Mama, what are you doing?" "I'm in the shower." "Are you in the shower?" "Yes, I'm in the shower, Hannah.")

So I was having my uninterrupted hair washing session, and in the ultimate irony, I was interrupted anyway - by God. A little bit of scripture floated into my brain, from Isaiah 58, "Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen?" Didn't I sign up to do exactly this thing, to spend my days with my child? Is this not the life that I gave up my "other" life for? Isn't this just what I wanted to do?

Yes! It is! I wanted to wash thousands of loads of diapers and scrape dried oatmeal from the floor. Well, maybe not that, but I wanted to be there when Hannah started crawling, and then took her first steps. I wanted to take her to the library and read dozens of books together. I wanted to make sure that she has a nice meal at lunchtime, and that our family has a good dinner on the table - at least most of the time. And I have all of these things. What more could a mom ask for?

Yes, this is exactly the kind of fasting that I have chosen. But this does not mean that I have chosen to fast from reading God's word, or taking the time to say a bit of a prayer here and there. In fact, it is exactly because of this life I have chosen that spending some time with God becomes all the more important. Because if I wanted to be around my kids more so that I could teach them things, what better thing to teach them than the importance of a prayer life, or the discipline of studying scripture? And what better way to teach them than through my example?

This is the fast that I have chosen, and what better way to prepare for it than to spend, if not three hours, than at least three minutes, in prayer?

(By the way, I feel like I have to give this scripture verse a little more credit, and say that this is one of the most beautiful social justice verses of the entire Bible, calling us to social and economic equality by working to break down injustices and build up a society of love and mutual respect. The rest of Isaiah 58:6 says, "Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?"(NIV) But the context that God gave me last week was definitely about my particular choosing of motherhood.)