The Year of the...System?

This whole process of "parenting with Spirit" has got me in a reflective state of mind.

For those of you who don't know what I'm doing, here is the premise: At this stage in my life I don't always have the time or discipline or energy to take on traditional practices of Christian spirituality with any consistency, so I've been trying instead to reap the benefits of such practices in a non-traditional way: making parenting my spiritual discipline. Now, you might be wondering, "Why bother with Christian spirituality at all?" Three reasons: 1) I'm a minister and I want to practice what I preach, 2) Even in an age of secularism I still feel the need to model a life of faith for my children and 3) I really do want to feel closer to God! I want to feel what the mystics of yore felt and I really do want to grow and mature and live a great life free from hang-ups and selfishness! So I've been trying to notice how many opportunities my children give me to grow in something the Bible calls the "fruit of the Spirit" (these are qualities like generosity, patience, self-control; growing in these virtues is the end goal of spiritual practice). In October I focused on growing in joy and this month I've been trying to grow in love.

Very laudable, but more often than not I take a pass on said growth opportunities, and I started to wonder: why?

I didn't need to reflect for long to figure out the answer: I'm too busy! Here's what always happens: I'm in a rush; my kids don't do what I need them to do that instant; I get angry; I realize I have an opportunity to react differently, and then I take that opportunity and shove it because I've got to get to work (gosh darn it!) or I've got to get supper on the table or gymnastics started five minutes ago or the bathroom needs cleaning before the company arrives.

And so I had to ask myself: can I really expect to practice my faith like a nun if I don't live in a cloister? Of course not! What would it take to make my home into a monastery? I think I've finally figured it out. The one thing those nuns and monks have on me is the very thing my home lacks: ORDER!

Yes, I've come to see that one of my biggest stumbling blocks to "parenting with Spirit" is the lack of any clear order to my days. I can't respond to life with any degree of spiritual maturity because I'm always reacting stressfully to crises. Nuns and monks at least have the option of serenity and calm and acts of compassion because they don't have to think about doing anything else in the moment. They set themselves up so that they don't have to do anything else. Meals? They're taken care of. Cleaning? That's done too. Their days unfurl in carefully measured increments and everything happens according to plan because they planned for it to be so.

Throw a nun into my life and I don't think she'd be serene and compassionate without her order propping her up. Not even a nun could laugh a joyful laugh if she had to send her son - as I just did - to school in the same underwear he's worn for the past three days because there is no clean laundry. Ha ha ha! I'd like to see that same nun be loving and empathetic as she comes up with an idea for supper after she's been at work all day, and there's nothing in the fridge and her two children are throwing themselves on the floor, arms and legs thrashing because they're hungry. That would be funny.

Order and consistent spiritual practice go hand in hand. Which is why I'm thinking ahead to the new year and have decreed that this coming new year will be the year of the SYSTEM. According to the Chinese astrology, it's also the year of the Tiger, who's motto is "I win." Well, I'm going to harness all that tiger energy out there to beat the chaos on the homefront - look out! Roar! I have my friend Kessa to thank for planting the idea of a "system". I really believe that if I had some sort of system for meals and groceries and laundry and lunches and cleaning that I could focus more on spiritual practice. What do you think? Do you have a "system" that works for you and that allows you more time on life's intangibles and less time in crisis? Are you thinking ahead to the new year? What will your year be about?

Make Me a Channel of Your Peace

Is there anything more dreadful for parents than our city's annual Santa Claus parade? I'm still angry at the numskull who mentioned it to my kids. Next year the rule is if you mention it, you have to take them. By yourself.

The Santa Claus parade is like self-flagellation for parents. Had I worn a hairshirt I would have been appropriately dressed. I mean, why walk into this minefield? Why line up in a downtown wind tunnel in a crowd eight-people deep with your child on your aching shoulders for at least three hours only to see every tired marching band in North America, depressing clowns and tacky plastic floats? You're guaranteed to run out of snacks and water and your children will whine mercilessly the whole time. And when it's time to go home you'll be competing for a seat on public transit against (literally) a million other people - all with tired, crabby children in tow. Does this sound like fun?

This was my experience at the Santa Claus parade this year, only worse. I don't know if it was traffic overload or what, but the second street car we needed to catch never showed up. So there I was on a dirty downtown street corner with two exhausted and starving children who just wanted to get home as quickly as possible and I tell them that they've got to walk...twenty-three blocks.

I've noticed that ninety percent of parenting with Spirit involves setting myself up for success. When I am rested, fed and watered; when I've had some exercise, fresh air and sunshine; and when I've had a little restorative time to myself I am more able and willing to reach for the Spirit's fruit when presented with the option. So you'd think that taking my kids to the Santa Claus parade after a long morning at church and then having to walk home would set me up for failure. My kids would present me with an opportunity to grow in love, but I'd be too tired and hungry and stressed and just plain fed up to take it.

Well pop open the champagne; I feel like celebrating! I didn't let my negative feelings get the better of me! Not this time!

About ten steps into the long walk home, the "why"-ning started: why wasn't the stupid bus coming? why didn't we take the subway instead? why didn't you pack enough food? why don't we have a car like everyone else? why do we have to walk everywhere?

It was irritating. I really really wanted to swat the "why"-ner and decree that we would never - NEVER! - go to the Santa Claus parade again. "Why"-ning is so unhelpful, especially when we're all stressed out. But I managed to stop myself. Or maybe it was divine intervention. In any case I stopped and looked at the "why"-ner and hit a moment of inspiration. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the sidewalk and said, "come here and give me a hug." He was in my arms in less than a second. I said I could see that he was tired; I was tired too. I said I knew how hard it was for little legs to have to walk so far; it was hard for my legs too. I told him how much I loved him. Up until that moment my insides said push away! berate! punish! It's for his own good! I opened myself to love instead. Talk about triumph on a Napoleonic scale!

And what's more, it really worked. We had to stop for hugs two more times before the garage door was in sight, but we got through the rest of the walk without any more "why"-ning.

Perhaps in order to grow in love we need to pursue what initially seems counterintuitive; to pull close when we feel like pushing away, to speak gently when we'd rather be harsh. Perhaps we need to pray, as St. Francis did, that we may never seek so much to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love with all our soul.

All I Need is Love

Yesterday I was at the library and came across a collection of stories by Shirley Hughes. I think I enjoy her books more than my children do. She manages to capture the realities of family life so well. I like that the houses she draws look like my house. There are clothes spilling out of drawers, toys on every surface, books left lying out, and food stuck to the floor under the table. And the mother she draws looks so frumpy in her big sweater or gritty bathrobe, wearing non-trendy glasses and sporting a haircut she can't maintain. I love it! I can relate! It is comforting to see my reality in art. But where Shirley Hughes tops all illustrators - in my opinion - is in her ability to paint love. Her scenes of family life are messy and frazzled but full of the warmth that fills a home where people are really trying to love each other - day in, day out, admist dinners and dishes and diapers.

This month I'm trying to be conscious of all the little opportunities my kids give me to grow more loving. I'm really trying to nurture this fruit of the Spirit inside of myself.

I've noticed that - for my kids - to be loving is to be present. They seem to want to simply be with me more than they want a clean house, an enriching schedule or new toys. They want to play, they want to cuddle on the couch, they want to run around the playground - and they want to do this with me. I have to admit that I need a relatively clean house in order to function and I think it's important to get out and about and learn new things, and I do need to fit in time for my job, but I'm trying to redefine what I consider to be "essential" tasks in order to free up more time to simply be present and loving with my children.

So the sticky black marks on my kitchen floor are going to have to stay there for a while and I won't get around to framing those photos I have been meaning to frame for twelve months and the summer clothes I brought up to the loft in September won't find their way into the storage cupboard anytime soon. Instead I'll be channeling Shirley Hughes and the Spirit on the playroom floor with the kids, stuff strewn everywhere, but full of love.

Drama Queen

So I'm really trying to be mindful in the moment of little opportunities I have to be joyful but more often than not I'm too crabby and irritated and would rather pout and complain about the stresses of day to day life as a mom in the Western world instead.

This feels really spiritually immature and makes me wonder when I will ever grow up.

I made such a scene yesterday I don't think I can leave my house without a disguise. You see, Wednesdays are the one day I have to be physically at work at a certain time (besides Sundays, of course) because we have a staff meeting. Now to get to the staff meeting on time it is crucial that I leave with Nicholas when he goes to catch the bus. Once the bus leaves I carry on - on my bike - to work.

You would not believe how organized I was yesterday morning. I was superhuman. Nicholas and I were both dressed, my lunch and laptop were packed along with a batch of freshly-baked muffins especially for the meeting (eat your heart out, Martha), and we walked out the door at 8:30am, exactly four minutes (four minutes!) early for the bus. Four minutes to make the ten-second walk to the bus stop at the end of our alley. Plenty of time, right?

Wrong. I stepped out of the garage to see a lineup of cars idling at the end of the alleyway. And those cars only wait for one thing: the bus!

Should I put profanities in this blog? No. I'll let you imagine what I was yelling while Nicholas ran and I hopped on my bike to try to catch up with the bus driver and make her stop. This sent Nicholas into a complete panic attack. So there he was, on the sidewalk opposite our neighbourhood school, neighbourhood do-good parents and their well-adjusted children everywhere, screaming and crying out to his mom who has gone completely beseerk, belting down the street on her bike, shouting profanities at the bus while it drives away.

I gave up trying to chase the bus when it turned the corner. I stopped my bike right in the middle of the street, waited for Nicholas to catch up to me and started to cry.

Why do I find it so hard to face minor (in the grand scheme of things) snags like this with grace and a positive can-do attitude? So I was going to be a bit late for my meeting. So I needed to find another way to get Nicholas to school. So we don't have a car. So public transit is too slow. So I had to get Nicholas to ride his bike. So what? Why did I have to go into hysterics in front of the neighbours?

Nicholas on the other hand showed exceptional discipline and managed to turn the morning into a blessing in disguise. I think he only freaked because he saw me freaking and swearing all over the place. Once we were both on our bikes on route to the school he grabbed on to joy and wouldn't let go. "It's going to be okay, mom," he repeated like a mantra. He thought riding together was fun - and it was. He was thrilled to have missed the bus. "We get to ride together!" We chatted about this and that. Curses and blessings. Joy and all that good stuff of the Spirit comes naturally to him. He doesn't have to work at it and be all mindful of reaching for it, like I do.

If I am learning anything in this quest for the Spirit's fruit in my life, I'm learning about what gets between me and the state of grace my children inhabit by default. Sometimes it's feeling rushed, sometimes it's feeling overwhelmed with demands, but more often than not the biggest barrier between me and transcendence is this feeling that I am somehow hard done by and I want the world to notice. I want a gold star, a pat on the back, a medal, and some sympathy.

Why can't I just let it go?

A Sticky Situation

One morning last week I opened the fridge to get the milk and found that the entire bottle of maple syrup had spilled and had covered the bottom shelf in a sticky pool of mess. This discovery was made with ten minutes to get Nicholas fed, teeth brushed, and on to the school bus. Needless to say spilled syrup was the last thing I needed. I yanked at the milk jug (now almost) cemented to the fruit and vegetable drawer and almost started to cry as big, gloppy blobs of syrup dripped from the jug as I carried the milk across the kitchen to the table and filled the cereal bowls. My house is messy enough as it is. I don't need these kind of complications that just make it worse.

"Do you know anything about this?" I asked Nicholas.

Of course he did. A couple of days before (what? The syrup had been slowly pooling for TWO DAYS and I hadn't noticed?!?!) Nicholas had tried to make himself a snack (cereal with syrup on top) and hadn't known how to properly seal the bottle (it has a fancy, old-fashioned lid). And then the syrup had somehow tipped over.

I know it's digusting, but I decided to ignore the syrup (on the floor and in the fridge) for a little while longer. The bus! We had to go. But after lunch we went grocery shopping and before I could put anything away I knew the syrup would need to be cleaned up. I had to deal with the mess. Nicholas was on his way to the playroom.

I could just clean up the syrup myself, I thought, it would take ten - maybe twenty - minutes of hard labour. Not much time, really. But then, I thought, this is an opportunity for Nicholas to learn - to grow! - and to come to an understanding of natural consequences. So I called him back and braced myself for imminent whining and complaining and yelling.

"Nicholas, before you go off to play we're going to clean up the syrup in the fridge together." I stood looking at him like a deer in the headlights - paralyzed - unsure of what to do next. I was ready for the onslaught of something horrible. But instead he just said, "Okay, mom."

We filled up a mixing bowl with dish soap. I showed Nicholas how to wring out his rag and mop up the syrup. We mopped and rinsed, and mopped and rinsed again. And then he stopped wringing out the rag. "I want it to be really watery," he said. Slopping masses of water now lay around the bowl and the interior of the fridge looked like a muddy, brown pond. I could feel myself beginning to grumble. What a mess! It was almost worse than the syrup. I wanted to grab his rag and swat him. Just looking at the water sloshing everywhere made me want to scream! Why on earth couldn't he just do what I wanted him to do?

But then I remembered my plan at the outset of this month. No more tantrums. Time to be a big girl, Kristin. You're trying to grow. You're trying to change. You have a choice: transcend or regress. That still, small voice inside of me was calling out amidst the storm: ""reach for joy, lassie! You're going down without it! It's all you've got! Reach for joy like it's all you've got to hang on to!"

Time for a deep breath. I asked Nicholas to grab a towel to soak up the water, which he did. And I took a good look at him, scrubbing the fridge. The water and the non-wringing of the rag was just him really getting into it: having fun and still getting the job done. He was clearly enjoying himself and there was an aura of pride about him; engaged as he was in such an adult job. I had to admit to myself that it wasn't so bad, working along beside him. I had snagged a front row seat at his show of capability, responsibility, and independence. And that's when I felt it: the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart.

It didn't stay, but that moment was enough to make me feel ten feet taller, spiritually speaking. Anyways, spiritual growth is always a work in progress; just a series of small successes that gradually accumulate beyond our big failures and make us into the people we were created to be in the first place.

Next month I'm going to focus on love, which means my challenge is to try to be conscious of all the opportunities I get moment by moment to choose to be loving or to show love to my family.

But before then, there'll be on more post on JOY.

The Joy of Cooking

On Sunday we hosted a Thanksgiving dinner with my brother and his partner and invited over a couple of our good friends. Both my husband and my brother love to cook and I like to bake and since we were all inspired by a little book I had bought the kids called "A Pioneer's Thanksgiving in 1840," we decided to make the entire meal from scratch - including cranberry sauce and ice cream to go with the pumpkin and apple pies. And just to make the preparations even more complicated than they already were, my husband and I decided that the kids were going to help us with the cooking...

We look so peaceful in this photo, don't we? The kids look cooperative, but here's a rough approximation of what happened in the moments leading up to this photo being taken:

Nicholas: "Mom, I want to watch my Scooby Doo video."

Me: "Not right now; I want you to help me cook this afternoon. It's important."

Nicholas: "Mom, please, I don't want to cook - it's going to take forever! Please just let me watch Scooby Doo!"

Me: "No. Get in the kitchen."

Nicholas: "But I want to watch Scooby Doo."

Me: "No. Mommy and Daddy need your help in the kitchen."

Nicholas: "Then I hate you and I'm not being your son anymore!"

Me (in yet another Jekyll/Hyde moment): "GET IN THE KITCHEN RIGHT NOW! I DON'T WANT YOU TO EVEN MENTION THAT VIDEO AGAIN. WE'RE GOING TO COOK TOGETHER...AND IT'S GOING TO BE FUN!"

I wasn't sure whether I could find any joy in this Thanksgiving cooking experiment, but Steve and I were convinced that it was much better to involve our kids in the whole process than to have them sitting in front of the TV - even though I would have been able to put the ingredients together much more quickly without their help. And it turned out that standing firm in our convictions - though they inconvenienced us and made our kids extremely grumpy - eventually filled the afternoon with joy and happiness and a deep sense of personal satisfaction.

Nicholas and Emma sliced all the apples for the apple pie, prepared the mixture of spices, milk, and eggs for our pumpkin pie and made the pastry - with only a little help from me. While I peeled the apples and they sliced I talked about their great Grandmother - my Grandma Bernice - and how she taught me how to make pastry. I shared her pastry secrets with the kids and told them about great Grandma Bernice's life growing up on the Stoney Plain farm. It was a joy to cook with my kids. I felt whole; I felt happy. I got that, "This is What it's All About" feeling.

I think I'll make it a tradition for our family to cook together at every holiday. I'd much rather their Thanksgiving memories involve cutting boards, apple peels, cinnamon, and raw turkey, than movies on the TV. Midway through slicing his pile of apples Nicholas looked up and said, "this is fun!" I guess that's why they call it the joy of cooking!

Transformation Happens in the Kitchen

I assume that if you're reading this blog, you go to church. And why do you go? If you're like me you go for a whole bunch of reasons, my number one reason being that, having gone to church, I just feel better - it's like exercise for the soul.

I also go to church to be transformed; I want to be the best version of me that I possibly can be, hokey as that may sound. At the moment, traits like peacefulness and compassion don't come naturally to me, depending on the circumstances, and I don't like that about myself. I think the ultimate goal of being a part of a community of faith and taking on a set of spiritual practices is a transformation of the heart. I want my heart to blossom and grow in the fruit of the Spirit. I think Jesus achieved this kind of transformation. Virtues like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control just oozed out of him and I'd like that for myself.

Traditional practices of Christian spirituality - practices like reading scripture, praying, attending worship, fasting, calling ourselves to account through confession, and offering radical hospitality - are meant to open our hearts and minds to Spirit so that transformation can take place. But most of these practices require a consistency and time commitment that many parents can't give. So what do you do when you want to practice your faith (because you want to be transformed) but the traditional tools of spirituality just don't mesh with the reality of your life right now? As a parent any spiritual practice I take up needs to be flexible and adaptable to the needs of my family.

In my first post I shared the story of the night I behaved really badly towards my children. The only good to come out of that night was the revelation that absolutely every interaction I have with my children held within it the potential for the kind of transformation I had been looking to receive through traditional spiritual practice. I realized that - with a little perspective and a lot of discipline - I could actively choose to grow the fruits of the Spirit in my heart. The way in which I engaged with my children gave me every opportunity to be more loving or kind or gentle. It turned out that Transformation was right there waiting for me - in my kitchen.

So this is what I've decided to do: every month I'm going to focus on one fruit of the Spirit - one Christian virtue that I'd like to have more of in my heart. As I go about my day I'm going to look for opportunities to invite that spiritual "fruit" into my actions and intentions and responses to whatever gets thrown at me. My hope: to be the best me I can be and to grow more like Christ, who seemed to have these virtues at his fingertips. And ultimately I guess I hope - like any beauty queen, politician, or bleeding heart activist worth their salt - to make my little corner of the world a bit more loving and joyful and peaceful and generous and faithful as a result. Of course, I'm also doing this because I want these virtues to be as close to a part of my children's DNA as possible and any parenting resource will tell you that example is the best teacher.

So here I go...off to sow some seeds and grow some fruit.... This month I'm looking to grow in JOY. I will choose to be joyful; I'll laugh more with my kids; I'll rely on humour to diffuse testy situations; I'll notice how full and happy I feel with the joy of motherhood!

Needless to say how easy it is to have the best intentions when it's 2a.m. and there's no one around to "bother" me. We'll just have to see how "joyful" I am when the kids wake me up in a few hours...