“Gaudy monstrosity” is a term a character used in the movie Oceans 11 to describe a casino. Mike and I immediately latched onto that term and used it liberally after watching the movie. We used it to refer to anything that was waaay bigger and more ornate than necessary.
That said, here is the gaudy monstrosity we built today:
I am trying to think of what to type here in the way of a reason for making such a tent. But I really don’t have one. It’s…um…just something we decided to do today!
I took a Sabbath today. I made a conscious decision to simply enjoy my life and my family today, in the sight of God, with minimal activity. It was both easy and hard.
It was easy because my body very much wanted one. I woke up at 5:50 am and headed downstairs for some quiet time. Halfway down the stairs, I started to realize that I felt more tired than normal. I even stopped making coffee halfway through because I realized I was probably going back to sleep afterward. And I was right. My quiet time lasted all of twenty minutes before I was dragging myself back upstairs to collapse back into bed. Greg even got up with the kids later.
It was easy because Luke and Anna just wanted to hang around the house, and Luke was desperate to have a “pajama day.” I may have warped him a little bit with my long-standing, militaristic insistence that we get dressed each morning no matter what. (The insistence stemmed from my desire to still be part of normal society even in the throes of new-motherhood. In those disorienting days, things like clothes and make-up were links to sanity.)
It was easy because Greg was going to be gone all day with graduation stuff, and the weather was gloomy and rainy.
It was easy because my house was pretty much clean, I was caught up on laundry, and there simply wasn’t too much at all on my “must do” list.
And yet it was hard.
That’s the weird part.
It was hard for me to take a day off and just relax. Maybe it’s because I feel the need to justify my existence more than most people. Maybe it’s some form of Protestant work ethic, or the Ben Franklin idea of not only trying to be always industrious, but also to appear always industrious. Maybe it’s because of a lingering self-consciousness from being a stay-at-home-mom, despite having a Master’s degree. That’s ridiculous, I know, seeing as how I believe so passionately in raising my kids during these formative years. And yet, it’s there. Maybe my self-consciousness wants to convince others and myself that I have so many Big, Important Jobs to do that I couldn’t possibly take a day off. Maybe it’s because I’ve been singing, “I Want to Be a Worker for the Lord,” all week (true story), and I’m hung up on the line, “I will work, I will pray, I will labor everyday.”
I could psychoanalyze all day, but I if I had to make a definite guess, I would say that my reluctance to take a Sabbath has to do with pride. It has made me think about why God ordered Sabbaths for his people in the first place. For one thing, of course, I think He instituted them because He loved His people and wanted them to rest. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened,” said Jesus, “and I will give you rest.” First and foremost, the Sabbath is a sign of God’s immense love for His people.
I think, however, that there is also a second part: the Sabbath was an instrument to chisel away at the pride and self-importance of God’s people. I have this indelible image from reading the Bible through last year. It is of the Israelites in the phase where they returned from captivity and rebuilt the wall. They were kind of starting over and were renewing their dedication to the Law. And yet, they had a really hard time keeping the Sabbath. At one point, Ezra (either him or Nehemiah) goes out to the city gates and whips and beats back the people who are bringing in their wares on the Sabbath to sell in the city. That picture really stuck with me: the idea of people literally having to be beaten back like cattle b/c they were so desperate to get some work done that they couldn’t obey God’s command to CHILL OUT.
It’s like they thought the world would stop spinning if they stopped working. And it’s weird how I can relate. I don’t want to admit that my household didn’t fall apart because I didn’t “do” anything today. I don’t want to admit that I have time in my life to do this:
(We may have had a monster art session this afternoon.)
I don’t want to admit that the most productive thing I did all morning was to build an airport:
Or that my child was in his pajamas all day:
Or that I spent a good chunk of time discovering way too many insightful and thought-provoking blogs like this one and was only interrupted when my children got into an argument over whether their invisible coffee pot was on or off in the imaginary game they were playing at my feet.
Or that we ordered pizza for dinner tonight.
I don’t want to admit that I didn’t do a blessed thing today in the way of productivity, and the world went humming along as always. It’s bizarre that I don’t want to admit that.
And yet, I’m so relaxed and rested right now. So peaceful. So rejuvenated from a Sabbath, that I almost have to confess all that as thanks to God for giving me such a good day. I’m thankful for getting to curl up on my daughter’s un-made bed and read all the books from her shelves that we haven’t read in a long time. I’m thankful that the only cleaning I did was from what was needed to straighten our immediate messes. I’m thankful that I am not the least bit tired or worn out right now. I’m thankful to worship a God who thought up Sabbaths, knowing that it was just what his tired/stubborn/weary/prideful people needed!
Don’t usually have my camera handy first thing in the morning. Glad I did this morning. Welcome to the day, Anna Grace!
Jean Pierre and me, we’re tight. We’re like this.* We just kind of think the same way, you know? We’re on the same wavelength. Actually, I don’t know him all that well, so he might be a total crackhead, but from what he has said so far, I like him.
Jean Pierre is a French Jesuit priest. He was born in the 17th century. His full name is Jean Pierre de Caussade, and I am reading a copy of his writings called, The Joy of Full Surrender. Now, you might ask why I’m reading the words of a 17-18th century Jesuit priest. That’s a good question, and I put my finger on one of the reasons while having a conversation with my mom this past week. She was lamenting the idea of lukewarm Christians, Christians who seem not to get how important Jesus is, or at least should be, in their lives. I understood where she was coming from, and realized that that’s why I like reading people like de Caussade. I’m sure he and I would have some serious theological differences if we ever sat down and talked. But what’s reflected in his writings is a man whose life centers around one question: “How do I please God?” I can get behind that, and I’m interested in his conclusions, since he has clearly given the matter some thought.
What was really startling to me was the short chapter I read today called, “Holiness Made Easy.” It was almost unnerving how similar his ideas were to a blog I wrote over a year ago called, “The Amazing Thing.” The idea I was trying to convey in that blog was that we can serve God with every part of our lives, even—and perhaps especially—the mundane stuff. Turns out, I am not the first person to think along those lines (shocker!). Here is what de Caussade has to say on the subject:
“I believe that if those who were seriously striving after holiness were instructed as to the conduct they ought to follow they would be spared a good deal of trouble. I speak as much of lay persons [i.e. regular Christians] as of religious [i.e. priests and such]. If the former (i.e. lay persons) could realize the merit concealed in the actions of each moment of the day—I mean in each of the daily duties and actions belonging to their state of life—and if the latter (i.e. the religious) could be persuaded that holiness is found in what seems unimportant to them, they would all indeed be happy. If, in addition, they understood that the crosses sent them by Providence which they constantly find in the circumstances of their lives lead them to the highest perfection by a surer and shorter path than extraordinary states or spectacular works…what consolation would be theirs! What courage would they derive from this thought: that in order to acquire the friendship of God and to arrive at eternal glory, they have only to do what they are doing, only to suffer what they are already suffering; and that what they waste and count as nothing is enough to bring them the greatest holiness, far more than any extraordinary state or wonderful works!
Oh my God! how much I long to be the missionary of Your holy will, to teach everyone that there is nothing so easy, so simple, so within the reach of all, as sanctity! Would that I could make people understand that just as the good and the bad thief had the same things to do and to suffer…so it is with two persons, one of whom is worldly and the other leading an interior and wholly spiritual life. One has no more to do than the other. The one who is sanctified gains eternal blessedness by submission to Your holy will doing those very things which the other, who is lost, does to please himself, or endures with reluctance and rebellion. The difference is in the heart.”
While our thoughts are not exact, I think that we are trying to convey similar ideas: namely, that you serve God with every mundane second of your life, not just with “big stuff.” Reading his words, though, makes me understand better some of the questions raised in the comments to my blog post. I would hasten to add to de Caussade that the saved and the unsaved lives certainly do not look identical, although I would also add that the “good works” we do are not of our own thinking or volition, but through the grace of God. But what I get from his words is that both the saved and the unsaved do laundry. Both pay bills. Both raise their kids and go to work. Both are harassed by the inconveniences of life. Both get sick, both lose loved ones. But for the Christian, all of those incidents and actions, all of the normal rhythms of life, can be actively glorifying to God. All of those can be sacrifices to Him, acts of worship. Indeed, every moment of the day can be lived for God. As Thomas Kelly says, “There is a way of ordering our mental life on more than one level at once. On one level, we may be thinking, discussing, seeing, calculating, meeting all the demands of external affairs. But deep within, behind the scenes, at a profounder level, we may also be in prayer and adoration, song and worship, and a gentle receptiveness to divine breathings.”
I really believe that. I really believe you can live like that. And while I am wildly, flamboyantly, fall-on-my-face imperfect, I am nevertheless excited by the ways that God has been leading me more and more into this kind of life in the past few years. It’s also refreshing and encouraging to see clearly the obvious fact that I am not alone in these thoughts. Others have walked this same path and come to the same conclusions. Others like Thomas Kelly, whoever he is. And others like a 17th century Jesuit priest named Jean Pierre.
*Picture me crossing my fingers.
The kids and I have spent the last couple of days in Macon, and it has been wonderful. We have swam, slept (me), swam, fed ducks (kids), swam, eaten out, swam, shopped, and swam some more. We also got to see my two cousins, Monica and Jennifer, and Monica’s daughter, Madison. Needless to say, it has been a great visit.
Day 1 was a swimming day…
…a playing-with-friends-day…
…a rafting day…
…a relaxing day…
…a cousin day…
…an ice-cream-sandwich-day.
Day 2 was a boat day…
…a feed the ducks day…
…a lizard-catching day…
…a Granddaddy day…
… a sleeping-completely-through-Carrabba’s-dinner-day…
![IMG_1375[1]](http://lh4.ggpht.com/_XaxhaCjsstE/Tdxjl8YwZgI/AAAAAAAAJhs/HifzlWbd_pg/s1600-h/IMG_1375%5B1%5D%5B4%5D.jpg "IMG_1375[1]")
…a Lego day…
…a Tinker toy day.
Day 3 will undoubtedly be another swimming day, a boat ride day…and alas, a traveling day.
We miss our Daddy and can’t wait to see him tomorrow, but we do love Gaga and Granddaddy’s house!
Last week, in the midst of Greg’s preparation for the Seniors’ graduation dinner, we had a little graduation of our own: Luke graduated from preschool.
It was interesting how unaffected I was by this experience. I thought the little ceremony was adorable, but I certainly was not weepy at all. I guess part of it is from the fact that Greg had been putting together slideshows of kids that spanned 18 years of their lives. In contrast, the slideshow of Luke’s class was a little less dramatic:
Don’t get me wrong; I am totally dreading the kindergarten lifestyle, but I was nevertheless able to celebrate the end of preschool. For one thing, preschool graduation was more than the harbinger of kindergarten; more immediately, it meant that SUMMER was here!
Here is Luke’s class. Luke is huge. His size (and obvious brilliance:)) are two of the reasons that I don’t fear him entering kindergarten as one of the youngest students!
After the ceremony, his teacher, Ms. Christina, gave each child a little NT Bible storybook, along with a handwriting sample and self-portrait from each month. The absence of about half of Luke’s samples testifies to how casually we took preschool attendance this year!
Our preschool graduate:
Kindergarten, here we come! (*Sob*)
A couple weeks ago, I blogged about our caterpillar fiasco. That tragic event happened in the larger picture of a really fun trip that our Mommy and Me group took to Cypress Gardens. We had a great time, and the scenery at the place is pretty amazing, so I wanted to share some pictures from the day.
We started out looking at some birds, and then headed to the butterfly house.
There were some baby birds that a worker showed us. The kids were mesmerized by them:
They also liked looking at the bees…and whatever it was in those specimen containers:
We also ruminated on the stream:
After the butterfly house and the aquarium, we stopped for a picnic lunch. Then we took a short walk around the swamp:
A turtle!
Like I said, it’s a pretty cool place to visit. We hadn’t been in years, and it was the kids’ first time to go, so they loved seeing everything. Other than the untimely death of the caterpillar, it was a great day!
