The Right Way

There is a tiny guard who casts a fierce shadow who stands between us and anything worthwhile. His name is The Right Way. You see, The Right Way is a cruel taskmaster. There are parts of me that have been liberated and no longer live under his tyranny. But other parts still stand at a trembling attention when he barks, "You better get this right."

When it came to Advent my old adversary The Right Way came knocking. The problem is there are dozens of good Advent traditions and loads of variations of each. I was agonizing over this, as if there is some magic combination that will instill Christmas joy and reverence in the hearts of my children forevermore.

I suspect you would never intend this, but this is what happens. When you attempt to live by your own religious plans and projects, you are cut off from Christ, you fall out of grace. Meanwhile we expectantly wait for a satisfying relationship with the Spirit. For in Christ, neither our most conscientious religion nor disregard of religion amounts to anything. What matters is something far more interior: faith expressed in love. - Gal 5:4-6 MSG

How about that. Turns out there is no magic combination, just faith expressed in love. The cure to my Advent-angst was simply picking something and trying it. Or, as my wife wonderfully suggested, picking two things and mix-matching them: pulling Jesse Tree symbols out of the numbered pouches of the Advent calendar. Take that you lame old legalism! Simple action in love is like a kung-fu chop to the jugular of The Right Way.

So the other night we had a bunch of friends over. We lit a candle in the Advent wreath and did a Jesse Tree reading and sang carols while kids danced with streamers across the living room. While I didn't understand all the steps of what we're doing--What do the candle colors in the wreath represent again?--I did know this: we were turning our hearts towards our Maker and anticipating the coming Christ. The strong arm of The Right Way was overcome by the gentleness of love and community and simple action.

Someone said that children are so free because they don't have an inner list of all the things that could go wrong. Father God, give us hearts like children, free to make mistakes and stumble into wonder.

Expectant Waiting

“What the heck is Advent?”  This was not the question that I expected on December 1^st when we started this adventure of living by the seasons of the church.  But I could tell that my 13 year old was sincere.  I had clearly not explained it to her in the way that I thought I had. I grew up in a Presbyterian church on Sunday and an Episcopal school during the week.  I understood the seasons of the church because I lived them.  So when Genevieve was a very little girl it seemed a natural fit to take a job as the Children’s Ministries Director at the Episcopal Church that we were attending.  Since Gen was only a year old and she tagged along with me, I took for granted that most of what I was teaching and doing was sinking in the way it did for me growing up.  I was wrong.

So that first night we had a crash course in Advent.  Advent simply means “coming”.    I explained that the entire Christmas season is to be a time of celebration and planning for the advent, or coming, of Jesus.  After a little discussion, my daughter looked at me and said, “We are waiting for Him, just like Mary waited for Him.”  She got it.

My favorite definition calls it “a time of expectant waiting”.  Doesn’t that bring the absolute beauty of the season home?  Especially for a mother?  Can’t we just imagine those 9 long months that Mary spent waiting for the birth of her baby?  The baby she was told would be “Christ, the Lord”. Little more that a child herself she would be giving birth to the One who would one day deliver those who would choose to believe in Him.

In my home we are reveling in this time of expectant waiting.  We anticipate our daily Scripture readings.  I anxiously await hearing from Genevieve how she welcomed Jesus that day or how the meaning of the message we shared really hit her as she was with friends or as she was sitting in her Bible study class.  And my absolute favorite part of the day is when I hear my sweet Charlie’s voice whispering in my ear the words “We welcome your light, Lord Jesus” each night when we light our candle.  She is a girl of few words and so these feel especially sweet coming from her.

Already, after just one week, this is becoming a treasured part of our day.  This time to slow down, to remember, to reflect on the words spoken by our Savior is changing us.  This season feels more poignant than it has before.  And my prayers are focused on asking that we will be more accountable, more faithful and more hopeful for the coming of the Second Advent.

Advent's Gift of Anticipation

From Tamara:

This first Sunday of Advent, we set out our nativity pieces around the house and put the green paper up on the wall to fill in as our Christmas tree this year.  Small living spaces require alternative solutions for holding to tradition.  The 'tree' went up on Saturday actually, but the lights were too heavy on the paper and it began to fall down right about bedtime.  Seeing as our son sleeps at the foot of that particular wall, I couldn't risk the rest of it peeling off on top of him during the night - so down it came for the night.  After the tree was up properly the next day and lights were twinkling, we let Kaiser open his first gift of the season - a LEGO Star Wars Advent Calendar.  And, yes, we saved for three weeks to get that thing.  The first window held lego pieces that made a little R2D2.  How cute.  How cool.  How crazy.  How luxurious.  I swing back and forth between embarrassment of its opulence and sheer excitement of watching Kaiser open the next window.  We showed it off to Grandma and Papa and Auntie Em on Skype this morning - it's that exciting.

When I watch my son's face light up with the excitement of anticipation rewarded each morning, I recognize the powerful pull from my own experiences.  Waking up the morning that we're going up the hill to get our Christmas Tree with Dad and the brothers.  Waking up the morning we're heading up to Cooper Lake for huckleberries and perfect fishing.  Waking up the morning we're heading down to Colorado for the summer.  Waking up the first day of school (yes, weird children can look normal on the outside).  Just writing about these memories makes my heart skip a beat remembering the flood of anticipation.  I know that for my 4 yr old, the time that passes between opening each window in his advent calendar is about the same as the passing of a year for me.  Anticipation builds.  Consumes.  Causes some strange comments throughout the day.....attempts at masking hope, I presume.  But hope cannot be masked on a 4 yr old.  It shines brighter than the lights on the Christmas tree.  Hope that Mom will declare today the 5th, 6th and 7th of December - and it'll be the 8th of December by dinnertime!!  Wouldn't that be fantastic!?

I really do love how anticipation grows and consumes every thought.  It really was meant to do just that.  My difficulty is in managing where my anticipation lands.  It's easy to set my heart on things that are pretty and fun and, I'll be honest, tasty.  But most things that fit into those categories are either quick to disappoint or quick to satisfy with disappointment growing on your hips.  When I see my son's anticipation and recognize its pull, my heart cries out to the Lord that He would hold our hearts fast.  I want to long for Him.  I don't always long for Him.  But I want to.  One of the most precious aspects of Advent for me is how it gently holds my face, like a Mother with two hands under a child's chin.  Its time and focus demand that my attention remain on Christ and Christ alone.

Each morning now, we pull out our Good Dirt Devotional and Bible, sit together on our bed and set the pace for opening our hearts to the Lord.  I've found some of the questions difficult to navigate with my wee boy.  "What is one way you can welcome Jesus into your day today?"  We settled on thinking about Jesus being with us during Taekwondo class.  At the end of the day we reflected, "Were you able to welcome Jesus today like you planned?"  Um.....  "Was it easy or hard?"  Yeah, it was hard.  Did we forget?  Yes.  Not only that, it was difficult to imagine how Jesus could be there with us when he wasn't running the drills and practicing His 품새, too.  Is Jesus a purple belt like me, too, Mom?  But the biggest blessing we've received so far is the daily consideration of His Word.  We read the suggested readings twice each day and it soaks in deep.  I pray that as we listen to the way Jesus calls us to follow Him - what He requires of His disciples - our anticipation will become steadfastly set on doing just that.  Following Him.

And we'll see what He says about R2D2 coming along, too.

The Many Voices of Christmas

© Luke Saagi, used under Creative Commons License.

What's not to like about Christmas? It's a wonderful season. The music and good cheer, bright lights and parties, secrets and stories and sentiment. It's a magical time for children, and a time that as parents we love for our children's sake even as we cherish quietly, and with them, the focal point of the whole celebration--the coming of Jesus to our lives.

This will be our fourteenth Christmas with children, and as I think back on the years and look toward another celebration this month, its the voices of Christmas that come flooding to mind. The voices that have spoken into our choices about what and how to celebrate...

"What if Christmas, [Grinch] thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!”

Three gifts for each child--Gold, something they will value and treasure. Frankincense, a gift to help them meet with God. Myrrh, something to anoint and care for their body.

Sinter Klaus Day, Dec. 6. A first gift to each child in celebration of the caring bishop who provided dowry's for girls without one.

A birthday cake for Jesus on December 25.

Cub scout giving of gifts to needy families. Operation Christmas Child gift boxes. Gifts to men and women  serving far away in the military. Gifts to orphans  in Africa and others at risk worldwide.

Advent wreath lighting and reflection.

Epiphany remembrance and observance.

Creative and tasty gifts for neighbors.

Crafty holiday touches throughout the house.

Meal traditions for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning and Christmas lunch.

Caroling in nursing homes.

Gingerbread houses and cookie exchanges.

"Bah," said Scrooge, "Humbug."

Oh, the list goes on. Each of us with many voices, many choices before us each year as we hurtle from Thanksgiving to Christmas and New Year's. And laid back as we might be, surely we all have to squelch just the vaguest inclination toward a "Bah, humbug" as we spend our December days determined to remember the reason for the season and to keep the meaning the main thing as we live out all the ways of doing that.

Just last week I heard on the radio that many years ago, Christmas was not even celebrated. The church celebrated Easter in a big way, but because birthdays were not celebrated overall, the birth of Jesus just was not a church holy day. The thought. No Christmas, compared to ChristmasofToday. It's a startling dichotomy.

An article by Eugene Petersen tells the story of his family's Christmas when he was eight. Eugene's mother had found  a passage in Jeremiah that seemed to speak against the tradition of Christmas trees, and so that year, much to his own and his neighbors' chagrine, his family had no tree.  He reflects back now:

Mother, thank you ...  for providing me with a taste of the humiliation that comes from pursuing a passionate conviction in Christ. Thank you for introducing into my spirit a seed of discontent with all cultural displays of religion, a seed that has since grown tree-sized. Thank you for being relaxed in grace and reckless enough to risk a mistake. Thank you for being scornful of caution and careless of opinion. Thank you for training me in discernments that in adult years have been a shield against the seduction of culture-religion. Thank you for the courage to give me Jesus without tinsel, embarrassing as it was for me (and also for you?). Thank you for taking away the Christmas tree the winter I was eight years old. And thank you for giving it back the next year.

I don't know that we ever settle into an easy, contented Christmas rhythm. Much as we would like to, the good and the tradition and the holy are so intermingled that, without tossing away the holiday and stepping back a few hundred years, we can't escape the cacophony of voices and choices year by year.

For me, one voice helps bring perspective each time I feel I've failed or fallen irreparably behind. Funny, it's Scrooge again, but later in the story: “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.”

Each day, all year, is a celebration of Jesus' life come to change mine. Each day is the time to spend meaningful moments with family, to care for another in need, to offer a thought-filled gift, to meet God in his Word over the light of a candle. It's a wonderful season, and all the more when we let Christmas illumine each day of our lives.

Slowing Down for Advent

from Carolyn: If you're like me, you've heard this message a hundred times before. In fact, you may have even considered skipping this post because you already know what it's going to say--and, ironically, you don't have time to read it anyway.

"Slow down and enjoy the Christmas season. Eliminate the non-essentials. Remember the 'real reason' you're celebrating. Take the time to enjoy it."

And, also if you're like me, you've agreed with it a hundred times and then returned to life at a fast pace anyway. Because there are so many things to do this time of year--and they're all really good things. What am I going to eliminate? The tree decorating? Never. The shopping for gifts? My 5- and 8-year-old children would be heartbroken. The Christmas cookies? Sacrilege. But I've learned that when I hear a message repeatedly, it's generally God trying to get my attention. So I made the decision that this year would be different. This year I truly would slow down and savor the moments. And then yesterday happened.

Mind you, this was only day 2 of the "holiday season"--and that's if you go by the after-Thanksgiving-we-can-start-listening-to-Christmas-music rule. The season doesn't even start until today if you're only counting Advent. But there I was, rushing around the house yesterday like a mad woman. My parents were coming over last night to help us decorate the Christmas tree, as they do every year. I was fairly convinced that every single one of our 10 boxes of Christmas decorations needed to be unpacked and perfectly placed before their arrival. And the house needed to be completely cleaned. And the perfect gingerbread dessert needed to be cooking when they arrived--absolutely delicious while also being gluten-free, of course. Oh, and the kids should be wearing coordinating holiday outfits, so that they would look adorable in the pictures... Did I mention I'm a perfectionist?

At about 2:30 in the afternoon, my husband arrived home after being gone for most of the day. It only took about 2 minutes with me before I saw the look on his face. The look that said, "Who took my wife and replaced her with this crazy, stressed-out woman?" And, being the brilliant man that he is, he said, "Do you need a hug?" He didn't tell me to chill out, or point out all of the things that didn't really need to be perfect for our evening. He just made me stop and be still for a moment. My commitment to slow down this season came back to my mind and I started making a mental checklist of what was truly "required" for the evening. Only 3 things remained: put up the Christmas tree (because it's hard to have a tree-trimming party without it); clean the bathroom (because, let's face it, a dirty guest bathroom is just gross); and feed the family dinner. Everything else was nice, but far from necessary. And certainly not worth the price of my sanity. So the dessert became cookies from a box. The unpacked boxes of Christmas decorations got shoved into the bedroom. The kids wore their jammies instead of non-existent holiday outfits. And a more sane wife hosted our little gathering.

I have a feeling this lesson is one I will be returning back to again and again over the next month--not to mention the next few years. But my heart is fully convinced it is worth it. In The Good and Beautiful God, James Bryan Smith writes, "Why is eliminating hurry from our lives so crucial? When we eliminate hurry we become present, or more specifically, present to the present moment in all of its glory... In short, we 'show up' and experience the fullness of life. And that includes, not least of all, being present to God. If I am to live well as a Christian, I need to be constantly connected to God. Hurry is not part of a well-lived life."

Above all, I want to experience a well-lived life, and hurry does not bring about the person I want to be. So here's to an Advent season full of lingering, and slowing, and long hugs. May yours be blessed.

Thanksgiving: Tell a Story

Gratitude requires steely-eyed attention. We are never grateful for abstractions. We are grateful for particular events, persons, actions, beauties, "what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands." (To borrow from the First Epistle of John.) Gratitude is always told in the form of a story—my story. Why is that I am tempted to give thanks for broad-brush generalities? I expect to be asked today to rattle of a litany of thanks. And like many of you, I find it easy to turn to tried-and-true gestures that no one can get their hands or head around: God's grace. Family. Second chances. You know the drill.

There's nothing wrong with being thankful for God's grace—except we're never thankful for "God's grace" as a sweeping concept. When we feel thanks, it is for concrete, messy, hands-on stuff. Stuff that can't be said in a word or two, but requires a narrative.

I don't know about "God's grace." But I know that recently in the midst of a truly rough day, a friend called, and came over, and we ate dessert and laughed and watched a movie and hugged, and I was surprised to feel hopeful and able to face a painful situation again. It was a gift—a gift of friendship, but also of strength and hope.

In The Divine Conspiracy, Dallas Willard writes, "You are not separate from your life, and in that life you must find the goodness of God. Otherwise you will not believe that he has done well by you, and you will not truly be at peace with him." This, Dallas notes, takes work, time, training.

Gratitude is a disciplined, watchful eye over our actual lives for evidence that we have, beyond any reasonable expectation, been included in the life of God. It is hard work. We are trained to observe and note failure, loss, evidence that our world, our life, our body as they are could never house the glory of God. And then, to our befuddlement, there he is.

So, let's look closely. Let's take up the magnifying glass of faith and examine the mess of our experience, asking: what is God up to? Where have I seen him? Where does his absence beckon me further than I have been willing to go? Where does conflict invite me to love more deeply than I have dared? Where has sorrow invited me into greater hope than I thought possible? And where has joy sustained me along the way?

And then tell a story.

Thank You for the Fallow Land

Fisher Peak - Cranbrook, BC. Photo © Charis @ www.charispsallo.wordpress.com, used by permission.

From Tamara:

I grew up in the Rocky Mountains of BC, which means that I grew up celebrating Thanksgiving the second Monday in October. Since my birthday is on the 6th of the same month, we were often combining events. That really wasn't such a bad deal—I mean, who doesn't want loads of food and friends at their party—except that this weekend was also just the right time for harvesting the garden. It was pretty much guaranteed that I would spend my birthday Saturday out in our 4 acre potato field bagging potatoes. I want to say that I don't remember grumbling and complaining about all the hard work. I want to say that this was all part and parcel of growing up in the country and I knew I was blessed beyond words to have the work, food, good seasons and money from selling all those potatoes. But I don't think I was as sweet as I want to remember. To this day, I wake up on my birthday and feel a sort of dread about the garden needing to be dug up. To. this. day.

Several years of digging up potatos, though, means it's time for fallow. The waiting. The building up nutrients and restoring. As far as digging up the garden on my birthday weekend is concerned, I've been fallowed for a long, long time. That garden land belongs to someone else now. But I've gained something great in all these years of fallow—a deep-rooted gratefulness. I'm grateful for the hard work my parents made me participate in. And I'm grateful for the waiting they sowed into my heart. I remember working with my dad through evenings that never seemed to end. Would we ever make it in for dinner? "I'm going back from another load", he'd say. The stillness of the country night would surround me as I waited.

There's something about waiting that resonates with me. I'd say that waiting was taught to me. Waiting was part of life's early lessons. My dad taught me the most about this. Waiting can offer the time you need to come up with some great, imaginative stories. Waiting can be quiet. Waiting can be slow. Waiting can be cold. Waiting can be lonely. Waiting can be full of discovery. Waiting can be peaceful. Waiting can wake up your senses—or put them to sleep. What treasures I've found in waiting! I'm grateful for the lessons and the time I was given to appreciate the gift.

Because we celebrated Thanksgiving so early in the fall, I never used to relate Thanksgiving with Advent. But I have always related waiting with Advent—and I'm thankful for both.

Recipe for a Happy Thanksgiving

Folded up in the back of my recipe box are greasy sheets of notebook paper filled with Mike's scrawling. Homemade stuffing. How to make turkey gravy. How to stuff the turkey. How to make a pie crust. All written during numerous phone calls with his mom between Denver and Chicago. They're from our first years of marriage, and those greasy pages have guided us through many a Thanksgiving production over the years. Early on, Mike's parents came for the holiday about every other year; eventually they moved here. My mom and extended family have always come, and year by year a baby or two joined the mix--a child of ours, a new cousin. For so many years the cooking happened in-between nursing and diaper changes, naps and play breaks. We set up assembly lines of bread and vegetable chopping, onion-simmering, turkey-cleaning. Grandparents came a day early for food prep, and year by year the boys began to grasp that Thanksgiving is all about lots of commotion, good smells, plans with family, hours of play time with cousins, games and sitting close with grandparents, and sometimes new, friendly faces.

If I'm honest, there have been tiring days and weeks getting ready for these gatherings. We've had plenty of cooking fiascos. Just last year the foil turkey pan was gouged with a knife and I found turkey juice and oil days later seeped down inside the cupboard. But it's also gotten a little easier over time. The recipes have become so familiar we don't have to pull them out and follow the steps. The boys help with food and place cards. It's become a traditional, anticipated season.

Not so in my own childhood. Holiday traditions took a turn when my parents split up and each year became a different combination of here and there and what and how. We gave up on tradition and, without saying it in so many words, simply accepted each holiday for what it brought and who we were with. Now, two of my siblings and one of Mike's also face this reality of back and forth with kids and ex-spouses. Once again, we all have learned to take the day as it comes.

When I think about Thanksgiving as a parent and as a moderately accomplished Thanksgiving chef who accepts any and all help, I come back to those gravy-stained recipes and realize that family love and grace, shared together and with others, is what holidays are meant to be in the spirit of Jesus. Tradition is wonderful when it fits. When that recipe doesn't work, flexing with one another and appreciating each hour for what it brings is really what it means to be grateful. No doubt all our families are stained and worn in one way or another. It's in unfolding those grease-covered pages of our lives and partaking together in whatever the day holds that we really live out with our kids the meaning of Thanksgiving.

The Journey of the Church Calendar

Some of my most vivid memories from childhood are of the weeks preceding Christmas. Under the guidance of my mother, our household holiday regimen was elaborate and anticipated. Early on the morning after Thanksgiving, we were up pulling out boxes of decorations and wondering how the lights got so tangled up again. We assembled the Dickens village (whose residents colonized more of the living room each year until they had expanded into a booming metropolis). We drove up into the mountains to cut down a fresh tree. We swapped out every piece of decor in the house for its Christmas alternative. We hung garland along every available banister and counter. We put apple cider on the grill over the fireplace. The results were dazzling.

And, each Sunday night, we'd gather around the dinner table and light the next Advent candle. We'd sing a song, listen to Scripture, and remember the story.

As a young child, I didn't really know what all this meant. But I knew it was special. And so I paid attention. Even though I didn't really understand what it meant, I knew that Jesus was worth the extravagance of lights and cider and candles and Dickens figurines and nativity sets and trees hung with ornaments.

The Church Seasons are a way of living your life by the rhythm of Jesus' life. We all set our calendar by something. For some it's the academic year—9 months of toil and 3 of blessed (or chaotic) freedom! For other's it's the financial year, or the cycle of Hallmark holidays. We order our lives by these times of remembering, of taking stock, of traditions.

As Christians, it makes sense to set our rhythm to Jesus' life. We remember his coming and long for his return in Advent. We rejoice that he came among us and wonder at his humble Incarnation for twelve days at Christmastide. We ponder how this God-with-us life is the light of the world during the weeks of Epiphany. Then we hear his call to discipleship and remember our need for God's help during Lent. Holy Week is a special time focused on the love of God that led Jesus to die for us—and then the joy of Eastertide begins, "He is risen indeed!" And then we enter into the long slog of Kingdomtide (also called Ordinary Time) when we turn to ask how we can live out the Kingdom here and now.

This journey, round after round, takes the stories we know and the things we believe and puts them front and center. This is what we choose to set our minds on, whether we feel like it today or not. And we trust God that, year in, year out, the stories are sinking in, doing their work, making us more like Jesus.

The activities and ideas in Good Dirt are ways to make the with-God journey visible, tangible, kid-friendly. (And it turns out that what is kid-friendly is usually adult-friendly, too.) Whether your family jumps into Advent Extravaganza like mine did, or chooses a simple Advent Wreath to put on the kitchen table, you are saying, "This is special. This is what we're going to pay attention to. This deserves celebration!"

We're so excited to take this journey with you and share stories, memories, ups and downs. As you prepare for Advent this week, may God bless you with hope: the settled, soul-deep certainty of good things to come from Him.

Meet the Ouedraogos

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We are the Ouedraogo's; Joseph, Meleah, Ezekiel, Nere-Waya and Judah. Our family consist of two nationalities, three different skin tones and four languages.

We currently serve as missionaries with Youth With A Mission (YWAM) in Noepe, Togo, a small French speaking country in west Africa. Joseph and I met doing training with YWAM in Kona Hawaii where we fell in love and decided to get married. Since then we have been to four different nations doing training and missions work. In 2011, we settled in Noepe, Togo to re-pioneer a YWAM campus here.

Joseph is from Burkina Faso, a French speaking country in west Africa. Meleah is from the USA, grew up all over the country but claims Colorado now. Ezekiel (who is 5) is our compassionate warrior with a passion for justice. He is faithful to pray, especially for the hurt and needy, and is extremely discerning and loves deeply. Nere-Waya is two, her name means "beauty has come" and it's true of course, (as every biased mother would say) but its also true of how she sees the world. She has a keen sense for beauty. She loves flowers and the sky at sunset. She will break down in tears if her brother says her cereal bowl isn't as pretty as his. Everything is, and should be, beautiful according to her. Our youngest Judah, just joined us in October, he is a wonderful baby who already loves to smile.

Our family is unique and so are our celebrations, but we love to celebrate. Thanksgiving has always been one of my most favorite holidays and is full of wonderful memories for me. So even through we live in Togo, Thanksgiving is still always celebrated. Our biggest challenge is finding turkey; the first year we substituted it for some chicken that turned out so chewy it made beef jerky seem like mashed potatoes. Last year in a stroke of genius (and desperation) we had turkey deli meat, slightly sautéed. Yet no matter what, it still causes me to remember to take time out and be thankful for my life and teach my children to do it too.

That is part of why we are doing Good Dirt. We want to be intentional about learning about God together as a family and to learn more about doing spiritual disciplines in our daily lives. I want all of our days to be opportunities to take time out to focus on what God has given us, not just on Thanksgiving day, and I hope doing this family devotional will do exactly that.

Meet the Tylers

We are the Tylers, Steve, Colleen, Chase (13), Elijah (11), and Max (10), along with our two cats, Bowie and Leonidas.  Steve is a firefighter and I teach 3rd grade.  Between our work schedules and the boys’ schedules, it is a busy life we live.  We are also very involve in Boy Scouts and in our church.  When I met Steve 18 years ago I never envisioned being the mother of 3 boys; I always wanted 2 of each, or at least an even number of children.  But, of course God had a different plan. Raising 3 boys is a daily adventure and that has exciting twists and turns and it always amazes us how different the 3 boys are.

Chase is our brainiac 13 year old who thrives on knowledge-particularly useless information.  He is a swimmer and plays piano.  Elijah is the comedian of our family and brings the laughter into our chaotic world.  He plays the trombone and likes to draw.  Max is a combination of his two brothers and is constantly trying to find his place in the family  (besides last born).  He also swims and plays the tuba.  All three boys are Scouts, love Legos and get in trouble at school for reading too much.

Steve and I were raised in different denominations – he Church of the Nazarene and I Catholic.  Early in our marriage we didn’t attend any church because I was not interested  in religion at all.  Then, when I was pregnant with Elijah, I felt a need to find a church.  Neither of us was really interested in attending the other’s church so we shopped around and ended up becoming United Methodists.  My own spiritual journey has been a bumpy road and I still feel like a baby Christian.  Steve’s faith has always been strong,  and his knowledge of the Bible astounds me sometimes.  Our children each have their own level of faith and ask questions from time to time about it.    We all attend church on a regular basis, but need more to help build our faith, both invidually and as a family.  Our hope is these series of devotions will help us grow closer to God as we pray and study together. This is a new adventure we are looking forward to, it won’t be easy at first and may take us til Epiphany to get into a rhythm, but God willing, we will make  it work.

Do As You Can…Not as You Can’t*

Sitting at dinner one night, my family was unusually quiet and no one would make eye contact with me.  They don’t call me 007 for nothing so I picked up on this right away.“Ok, what’s going on?” I demanded.  A barrage of “You tell her,”  “No, you tell her,” and “I’m not telling her,” filled the room. Finally a confession was made. “I said we’d make cookies for the orchestra concert.”And a second confession, “We’re in charge of the department Christmas party this year.”  I don’t do well when I’m over-scheduled and everyone at the table knew it.  My mostly sane mother persona takes the last train to Clarksville. My family was afraid the train whistle was coming.

There is a danger in busyness and especially busyness in “spiritual activities.” There is a danger in Good Dirt.  In Good Dirt there are lots of activities that we, list makers will want to check off in order to feel good about ourselves. That is a serious danger. Checking things off in Good Dirt will not make you holy. God will not love you or your children more. (As if he could love you more than he already does…seriously.) Turning Good Dirt into a legalistic checklist of behaviors and activities to manipulate your family or God will make you crazy… or your family crazy and then you will start looking like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation with eleven thousand twinkly lights, cutting off the newel post, and burning down your Christmas tree. (OK. Maybe not all that.)

Actually it’s more serious than that. Making a “to do” list out of a spiritual tools can lead two ways.

1. Failure, we don’t measure up and then we think God doesn't approve of us. His love or approval doesn't hinge on what you’re doing.
2. Success, you get all the things on the “to do” list checked off. Now, you are really hard to live with. Pride. You and yours are so holy because you have done x,y, and z. God is interested in who you are becoming, not how many religious practices you accomplish.

Ben and I have this really wonderful friend named Jan Johnson*. She has been telling us the same thing for years now,

“Do as you can, not as you can’t.”  

When you take a look at Good Dirt and you see a list of things to do, do them if you can. Do them if you think they will draw you and your people closer to Jesus. Choose a few, (few as in one or two) do those… linger over them, spend time talking to one another, open up the space for God to move.

The point is not a holy list of “have-tos.”

The point is to become more fully the person God has created us to be and that happens when we have the open space to really connect with the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit and our family.

Meet the Youngs: We are For (I mean 5) ever Young!

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We are the Young’s… Mike, Wendy, Isabella, Quinn and Kadin.  We are a family as defined by the Merriam Webster Dictionary, the basic unit in society traditionally consisting of two parents rearing their children or a group of individuals living under one roof.  We are not biologically related but we are committed and love each other unconditionally.

We have children in each age group… mid terrible teen (did I say terrible?) who is funny and passionate and caring and creative and strong. She wants so badly to be the person God wants her to be she sometimes loses sight of the last thing she thought was so important. She loves people and has great potential to change the world!

We have middle school boy. He is quirky and silly and has a sense of justice that is out of control sometimes. He likes to correct his siblings then tell me he is just trying to do my job for me. He has some very different insights into life as he sees very simply.  Sometimes the way he says things is so very profound!

We have pre-school wild man who thinks he is a fighting ninja but likes to be called baby and drink out of sippy cups at 4 (don’t judge me! This is a battle I haven’t won yet but I am making strides! Haha).

Mike and I are along for the ride. We are both pretty easy going and laugh easily. We have been married for almost 21 years and wouldn’t trade one day! We love to try new things but like Isabella we sometimes forget what we thought was important and a necessity 5 minutes ago.

That is why we love our family devotions.  We have truly enjoyed learning the rhythms of the ancient church and love setting our evenings by our time together to read and pray. Good Dirt is our choice for these times because we love how it reminds us to take Jesus into the next day and look back over our day and intentionally see Him. Good Dirt offers us the ability to talk and pray for each other and for others. It equips us with ideas for how to live with purpose. We as a family are unwavering in our desire to glorify God. Sometimes we fail miserably and obviously but we are resolute in our togetherness.  This is our journey of family.

Meet the Daniels

Welcome to a sneak peek into our completely crazy, over-the-top, scheduled to the last second life.  We are the Daniels:  Riki, Chuck, Genevieve (13 years old) and Caroline, who we call Charlie (10 years old).   Chuck and I have been married for almost 16 years.  I’m a stay-at-home mom although that’s a misnomer because I am almost NEVER at home.  Chuck works in the oil fields of West Texas.  We are Texan through and through so you might find that I tend to throw in some y’alls and “fixin to’s” from time to time.

At 2 ½ years of age, our Charlie was diagnosed with autism. While this diagnosis was a defining moment in who my family would become, it is not autism that defines who we are.  It is who we turned to that defines us.  What we found while walking the road that autism has taken us down is that we serve a truly amazing God.  He has met us exactly where we are at each and every point in our journey.  He is there in the moments of grief and comparison that inevitably come when one of your children is measured against other typically functioning children and the world finds them lacking.  He is there when the prayers just won’t come because we can’t think of one more way to ask Him to take this cup from our girl. He is there in those moments of joy when Charlie does yet another thing we were told she would never do.  He is there when an older sister, though still a baby herself, truly “gets” her younger sister and changes the way her parents see their role.  He is there when we realize that without autism in our lives, we would have missed so much of His amazing Grace, and that is something we could not imagine.

We are honored to be a “Good Dirt family”.  My hope is in marking our lives by the seasons of the church we will find another layer in our relationship with our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  And that by sharing this part of our journey with you, we would all realize that our God is bigger than any struggle we might face

Meet the Liebenthals

Liebe Family Shot 10-2013

We are the Liebenthals.  We currently live in Gwangju, South Korea, but we have known many homes.  If there is one thing we're consistent in, it's exploring.  We love to explore.  We also love cheese and chocolate milk, Hot Wheels and legos, robots and dinosaurs.  But those are shifting loves - they change with the seasons.  You know how it goes.  But to explore is to enjoy life.  Oh, the anticipation of what's around the next bend!

As the mother of this home, I must confess that part of the joy in exploring for me is the way it leads you off the beaten path.  Away from the crowds and the hustle and bustle of city life.  Away from the visual and adible noises and into the quiet.  Sometimes it's difficult to locate the direction of 'quiet' here.  But God knows my inner compass and he placed us on the very edge of our great city.  Right up against a hill with trails and rice paddies and cuckoo birds and deer.  My heart is full of thanks for this divine gift.  The gift of quiet and the gift of paths that wait to be explored.

My husband's joy in exploration includes teaching our son how to respect and respond to the surprises that await them.  From catching fish they've never seen before (not even in books!) to saving worms stuck on the pavement.  From saying a kind "hello" to the Grandfather who affectionately touches our son's face to moving away from the boy who likes to push.  From how to set up camp for the night cooking your food over a fire to how he can choose a good coffee shop.  But I think one of my husband's favourite parts of exploring is the path that leads back home.  There's nothing quite like returning to a safe, quiet, comfortable place.  Ours happens to be 250 sq. ft. - I think diplomatic real estate agents call it a "cozy" home.

Our son enjoys his Taekwondo classes and his homeschool Sonlight classes.  He loves meeting up with friends to play at their house or ours - or better yet at the park.  And, although he's recently been asking for a car, he's usually a real trooper when it comes to hiking down to the bus stop to get into town.  He's a good walker and he loves to talk while he walks.  He's very connected to family and often talks about those he loves.  I've been thrilled to find his father's humour bubbling out every once in a while, too.  He's every inch his father's boy having only inherited my brown eyes and inability to wake up quickly.

We are excitedly awaiting Advent and looking forward to our hearts' exploration through the Church Seasons with Good Dirt.  As we take steps around our neighbourhood and into the forest, we are always looking for God.  As we visit with friends, we look for Him there, too.  My heart's prayer has been that this special time of navigating our way through the Church Seasons will grow a more tenacious longing to see God.  It will be fascinating to see that path light up as we share our findings on this blog along the way.  Happy Trails!

Meet the Morykons

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We're the Morykons—Brian, Joy, Lucy, Ramey and our new addition, Liam. The fab five as we like to now call ourselves. Joy and I, Baptist born and bred, encountered spiritual formation in our 20s at an Evangelical Free church. A few years ago we moved from Lynchburg, VA to our current location in Fort Mill, SC—to take a swim in the charismatic stream, as I like to tell people. It's been quite the adventure.

It's popular in charismatic churches to pray for revival. And right they should: we need to be revived. But what's often not described is what a revived life looks like. You may find yourself in need of a defibrillator to jolt you back to life. But afterward (one hopes!) the heart beats on it's own. That's why we're doing this Good Dirt devotional. We want to walk out revival, to do sustainable soul exercises that keep the heart of our family healthy and makes us feel alive, awake and free.

People who visit our home say it is a place they feel God's peace. It's not always peaceful here, of course. We fight, cry and each try to get our own way. But we've done our best to cultivate an unhurried life and make room for each other. Joy is a creator and artist, often knitting, sewing or painting. She's a natural at cultivating creativity in kids, and I'm always amazed at the artwork that awaits me when I arrive home from work. And me? I'm a web designer, songwriter, worship leader and recovering perfectionist. I'm graced with a super flexible schedule that I often take for granted, but I am reminded in this moment how much of a gift it is.

That's a snapshot of us and why we're doing this. Thanks for joining us on the adventure.

Meet the Quinns: An Unlikely Journey

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We’re an unlikely family. Mike and I married after being single for quite a few years, and then we waited a few more years to have kids. As two introverts who are very content reading the evening away, we’d have laughed you out of town if you’d told us we had three lively boys in our future.

Well, laughter happened over a baby in the Bible. It seems that baby surprises are more common than not when God is on the move. And so here we are, fourteen years later and still wondering how in the world you parent boys, how you keep a household running and clean and fun and meaningful as the world presses in on all sides and the culture won’t pipe down about what we need to do, watch, buy, see, and be.

It’s hard to parent day in and day out. Hard to keep up with children’s changing stages and capabilities. Hard to know when to let it be hard and enforce anyway, and when to let up and let them own their choices. And hard to stay connected personally with God while also teaching and guiding our kids in spiritual growth.

The parable of the soils is one of my long-time favorites. I’ve known Jesus since I was small and for many years I’ve carried with me the mental image of good dirt, of green things growing and thriving in dark, wet soil. It’s a metaphor that’s always worked for me and it’s been the focus of my prayers for people I’ve loved. Being dirty is pretty common around our house. Being good dirt, though, isn’t a given, for me or for my kids. I hope it will be true for us, nonetheless.

And so, this Good Dirt adventure is one Mike and I are eager to enter and live out together with our kids. Helping them to understand the spiritual disciplines, letting them experience how the choices in our days make us who we are in God, helping them to see that words and habits and attitudes of the heart matter a lot, that our life with God is worth more than anything else in this life. This is what we’re seeking. This is the quest for the Good Dirt.

An unlikely journey? Maybe. But unlikely journeys are always part of the story when God is on the move. We’re looking forward to embarking on the Good Dirt adventure together with you.

Meet the Weyels: A family figuring it out together

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We're the Weyel family. I'm Gary, and I get the privilege of introducing our clan.

My wife, Carolyn, and I met in college and married shortly thereafter. We're one of the fortunate few who have been able to stay in our little university town on the Central Coast of California.  San Luis Obispo has been named one of the happiest places on Earth, which is one of the first things you'll probably hear if you meet anyone from our city. I'm sure it makes us  all insufferable, especially when we talk to our Midwestern friends in the dead of winter ("20 below? Really? It's sunny and 72 degrees here today!").

We have two children—our daughter is eight and our son is five. There was a time when our eldest was the easy one, but things have pretty much evened out now. They're good kids who like going to the library on Saturday, visiting their cousins, and singing silly songs.

Why Choose Good Dirt for Families?

Carolyn and I were both raised in Christian homes and attending church every Sunday. While my family has a  faith tradition rooted in American evangelicalism and Carolyn's family is Lutheran, much of our world view was shaped by our time together at Intervarsity Christian Fellowship in college.

We've had a few fits and starts with family devotions at our house. To be honest, most of it has to do with laziness on my part, but I've also struggled with finding material that is appropriate and teachable to kids with a three-year age difference and vastly different maturity levels. Plus, finding a time we can consistently meet has also been difficult.

Despite the roadblocks, we really want to have time together as a family in God's Word. The Good Dirt family devotion is a way for us to call out our lame excuses and commit publicly to a year of family devotions. Or at least to TRYING to have family devotions for a full year. Because I know there are going to be days when I'm in a bad mood, or the kids are fighting, or we really need to be somewhere else, or whatever. But we're going to try--we're going to show up and do it wrong and feel uncomfortable sometimes and that's OK, because we're in it together.

Good Dirt: The Backstory

How does a born and raised Southern Baptist end up writing a devotional about the Seasons of the Church? Most major life changes jar us into rethinking our thinking and mine was no different. After far too many years of college and several more as a classroom teacher, I had my own children and decided to stay home. Just to keep things interesting we moved across the country to a rural setting where I knew no one. In between my days of washing cloth diapers, (Lord, what was I thinking?) sleepless nights, and strained peas, I noticed the earth was living a rhythm. (With all my education and teaching this late revelation is frightening, I know.) Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall all have a steady, life giving pace. The seasons of the earth knead their knowing into the surrounding souls.

Around the same time I read about the life of Corrie ten Boom and noticed how the life of Jesus was worked into her through a daily exposure and reflection of the Scriptures. Further that the Scriptures rooted her so firmly to Jesus and sustained her through the Holocaust is pudding proof.

I began to look around for a devotional resource that might combine an experience of the Scriptures and a rhythm to live by. I found Celtic Daily Prayer which is a collection of prayers and readings from the Northumbria community in the UK. For the next decade it would be a means of grace, a way that the rhythms of Jesus and his life began being woven into ours. This seed would someday grow into Good Dirt.

I learned from Trevor Hudson that “There is nothing in God that is not Christ-like;” and felt that lives steeped in the Gospels would go far in helping families plant their lives in that fact.

While sitting under the teaching of Dallas Willard at the Renovaré Institute for Spiritual Formation I had the idea of a family resource that would combine the richness of the rhythm of the Seasons of the Church and the life of Jesus found in the Gospels. I knew I was in over my head and pitched my idea to Ben Barczi, who was a student as well. He had been living the Seasons for years and had a much better handle on them. Thankfully he liked the idea and we decided to write Good Dirt together. I wouldn't want to be on this journey with anyone else. Ben is sheer grace. My children call him Brother Ben and that’s as true as it gets.

Good Dirt is a spiritual formation devotional for families and our belief is that those who mark their lives by the life of Christ will be formed and transformed.

We have piloted this resource all over the US. Thank you to those who read the early copies and gave us feedback. Thank you, Elane O’Rourke who edited it for us. Bless her, seriously bless her. I name all these people to say that this is a community endeavor. We stood on the shoulders of giants. (Giants who would laugh at me calling them giants and who would politely and firmly ask me not to call them giants, but obedience has never been my strong suit.) Still, thank you.

Much love,

Lacy

November 6, 2013

All Saints Day

by Ben Barczi

I'll start off with an admission: sometimes, I feel like God is asking too much. Some days it's all I can do to keep from being a total grouch to everyone around me. And here comes the call of discipleship: become like Jesus!

I don't know about you, but sometimes it feels too much to ask that I be a student of Jesus. I want to give up and settle for just squeaking by into heaven, thank you. (I have to imagine that some of you can resonate with me here.)

That's why it feels fitting to me that we're starting this year of blogging on November 1: All Saint's Day. We have a great bunch of families who are preparing to share their journey through the year with you, and I'd love nothing more than for all of us—readers, bloggers, and editors alike—to set all of this right in the middle of the long, long family of saints.

Because I need to hear that a lot of people, just as doubtful and frayed and sketchy as I am, discovered the eternal kind of life that God promises. It wasn't easy, but it was good. And there they stand—centuries of them—encouraging me to join the with-God party.

Eugene Peterson helps me see this in his translation of Hebrews 11-12, what we know as the Hall of Fame:

I could go on and on, but I’ve run out of time. There are so many more—Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, the prophets. . . . Through acts of faith, they toppled kingdoms, made justice work, took the promises for themselves. They were protected from lions, fires, and sword thrusts, turned disadvantage to advantage, won battles, routed alien armies. Women received their loved ones back from the dead. There were those who, under torture, refused to give in and go free, preferring something better: resurrection...

Do you see what this means—all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we’d better get on with it. Strip down, start running—and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!

All Saints is the day we take a look back and remember—we're not the first ones on the scene. Others went before us. And they've left us records over millennia that God is good. That God is loving. That God helps us. That God is with us. That life with God is really good.

And that, my friends, shoots some adrenaline into my soul.

This year we're living the story of Jesus: Birth, life, teaching, healing, suffering, death, resurrection, ascension. We're going over the story again. And again. But as we do, let's remember that we're part of a long family, who have spent centuries going over the story again and again. And let's take courage—just like God was with them, he is with us. Amen!

Family Activity: Today, take time to tell each other stories of someone you know whose life shows God's goodness. (Maybe a relative, or a friend, or a teacher. If you have a picture, all the better.) What do these stories teach you?