SIBLING

1 : one of two or more individuals having one common parent

Today I visited another world: the world of my brother.  It was a world both eerily similar and oddly dissimilar to my own. The terrain was much like my own - rolling hills, wooded areas, large swaths of grass.  The people as varied as those in my own neighborhood - black, white, Latino, Asian.  The streets were paved - the vehicles driving them a range of style, color and value.  Yet the buildings populating this terrain were uniform in color and style.  The people were all dressed alike, right down to their toes.  The vehicles a mix of trucks, cars and sand colored humvees.

My brother is a captain in the US Army and our trip to his command change ceremony at Fort Campbell was a bit like stepping into an alternate reality.  In his world, you must get permission to drive your car on the streets, you wear what you are told to wear and go where you are told to go (even across the world to dangerous places).  It is his world that makes it possible for my world to be as safe and predictable as it is.

As A, B and I waited for the ceremony to begin, B was wandering around, reading the plaques adorning sculptures.  The company my brother now commands has served this country for more than six decades.  There was plenty to read about.  Yet B was most interested in the raised concrete wall surrounding the sign bearing the name of the company. 

"Can I climb that?" she asked. 

"No."  I replied definitively.  "The army is very particular about walking where you are supposed to walk. Stay on the sidewalk."

"Okay," she replied with resignation.

The ceremony brought more questions:  Why do they wear their hair so short?  Why did that soldier pass out?  What is an FRG?  What are those flags for?  I answered as best I could, but sometimes resorted to saying, "You'll have to ask your Uncle Dave."  Which she did.  As soon as possible.

This was my daughters' first visit to an army base and my first visit in more than a decade.  I realized as I drove along the streets marked with signs prohibiting vehicles during the PT hours of 0630 and 0800 that I've only visited an army base stateside once before - and that was nearly twenty years ago when my brother was just beginning his training and I was still in college.  This base that stretches across the Tennessee/Kentucky border was the equivalent of a small town - much larger than the European Army bases I'd visited courtesy of my brother and aunt.

Visiting this base brought back memories of other trips. Of a visit to a PX during my junior year abroad, where I found, (much to my delight) Oreos.  I not only bought the Oreos, but shared them with a Swiss toddler on a ferry ride to Interlochen.  But I saw today that I was a child back in college.  It didn't cross my mind then that these bases existed for a very real purpose: the safety and security of all that I know.

Today my eyes were open.  And my ears.  We could hear machine gun practice on a range nearby.  My brother explained that they practice shooting in rounds of three to five, in order to keep their shot area tighter.  This was not a game they were playing.

As I drove past a lot filled with sand colored vehicles, I wondered when the color changed from green to tan and whether the lighter color had in fact saved the lives of some of the soldiers driving around this base.  As I washed my hands in the restroom and read the sign saying Absolutely No Outside Trash, I wondered whether this was a safety issue.  And as I drove back to Nashville, I pondered how different siblings can be.  I could envision B visiting A backstage one day in the future and marveling at the world of silence in the wings, thick stage makeup applied in the dressing room and leg warmers and sweaters shed immediately prior to heading onstage for a solo that took weeks to learn and takes minutes to dance.  Siblings are different and sometimes those differences lead us to end up living in different worlds.

My brother may have the same mother and father I do, but while he thrives in the world I visited today, I would not.  I am terrible at following directions I don't understand.  I don't have proper respect for the chain of command.  I was acutely aware today of just how much I did not fit in.  I was not in uniform.  I was not welcomed into the circle of officers' wives at the ceremony or reception following.  I was an outsider.  But none of that really mattered to me because I was there to see my brother take on a hefty responsibility - not only to the soldiers under his command, but to their families.  My brother may live part of his life in a different world, but he and his peers make it possible for me and my family to live the way we do.

And for that I could not be more grateful.

CLASSIC

1 a : serving as a standard of excellence : of recognized value

I love books.  I love to read.  I love Goodreads - both because it helps me keep track of what I've read and because it has encouraged me to read more critically as I think ahead to reviewing a book.  But I also love reading what I want to read.  I clearly remember the moment I realized I could quit a book if I wasn't enjoying it. 

I was lying in bed, slogging through a book when I thought to myself, "You know, no one is going to test you on this book.  You're not going to have to write a paper on it."  At that point, I created a personal rule: if a book doesn't have my interest by page 50, I stop reading it.  I created the 50 page rule because I think some books don't jump up and grab me.  I need to get to know the characters, see where the plot might take me, get a feel for the writing and the setting.  But honestly?  That has to happen in 50 pages or I'm not wasting my time.  (This started as the 100 page rule, but 100 pages of Little Women was enough to change that.)  Life is too short to read boring books.

I like the freedom to choose what I'm going to read.  There's nothing better than the right book at the right time - and nothing worse than the right book at the wrong time.  That (along with my busy schedule) is why I limit my book club participation - I don't want to read what someone else says to read.  But without providing myself some structure, I can get into a reading rut.  So I decided this year I should be a bit more targeted in some of my reading.

My first thought was that I should read one classic per month.  Then I decided that was too ambitious.  I settled on one per quarter instead.  Then March rolled around and I realized I hadn't even started a classic, much less finished one.  So I grabbed Of Human Bondage by Somerset Maugham and started it.  I'd found it back in January at the used book store and thought it sounded interesting.  And who doesn't want to read a book by an author with a name as cool as Somerset Maugham?  That alone was enough to make me attempt it.

If a classic serves as a standard of excellence, I can see why this book is a classic.  The writing?  Excellent.  The themes?  Broad, lasting, well-addressed.  The time it took to read the book?  Substantial - and not just because the book was 680 pages long.  The book was so packed that I could only read bits at a time before taking a mental breather.  Was the book worth my time?  Yes, but I'd love for my next classic to be a bit easier to read.

That's where you come in.  What's your favorite classic and why?  It is easy to read?  A book you still think about?  Does it have characters that you love?

Give me all your thoughts.

And should you be looking for your next great book, my favorite book of all time is The Book Thief.  I can't say enough good things about it.  If you haven't read it, read it.  But first leave me a comment telling me your favorite classic!

EASTER

: a feast that commemorates Christ's resurrection and is observed with variations of date due to different calendars on the first Sunday after the paschal full moon

Today is the first day of Easter.  The first of fifty days that are about living out the lessons learned during Lent.  It's a mental adjustment for me to see Easter as a season and not a day.  It's more natural for me to see Lent or Advent as seasons, largely because they coincide with cultural or environmental seasons.  But the longer I participate in a church that follows a liturgical calendar, the more I feel the rightness and value of this deep within me. 

For Advent, Epiphany and Lent, I made journals to commemorate each season.  By the end of each season, I was sad for the season to end, sad to say goodbye to my current journal.  Yet each season has offered discrete and unique lessons.  Lessons that are held, documented and remembered in those journals.  Yesterday morning I created an Easter journal.  I'm sure by the time Pentecost arrives, I'll be sad to close this journal for the final time.

As I sat at our Maundy Thursday service, I had the thought that Easter is for listening.  I even contemplated putting that on the cover of the journal.  I pondered this for a few days as I picked the colors and papers for my journal.  As I planned the journal, I continued to think about listening.  Perhaps Lent was for listening, not Easter.  Then on Saturday morning I read this passage in Celtic Daily Prayer:

Let us do what our Lord did and rise early in the morning, whilst everything is at rest in silence and darkness, when sleep envelops everything in torpor, in profound quiet.  Let us rise and watch with God, lifting our hearts to Him, laying our souls at His feet, and at this early hour when intercourse is so secret and so sweet let us fall at His feet and enjoy converse with our Creator.  How good He is to let us come to His feet whilst all is sleeping.  Whilst all is sleeping in silence and shadow, let us begin both our day and our prayers.  Before our working day begins let us pass long hours praying at the feet of our Lord.

Yes, I think my Lent was for listening.  It would, in fact, make perfect sense for me to discover the meaning of Lent on the very last day of the season.  If there's one thing I've learned in my few years of observing Lent, it's that the season is rarely about what I think it's about on Ash Wednesday.  This year's Lenten vow of walking or running every morning was so far out of left field that I had no idea what it might be about.  As I told my counselor about it, she remarked, "I love that you don't see this as a way to lose weight.  That's not even on your radar as you approach this."  That continued to be the case throughout Lent. 

My morning ambulations were far more about spiritual growth than physical fitness.  I'm not a morning person, yet I found that once I was out of bed and on my way, walking was the perfect way to start my day.  I was able to be awake and alone for thirty or forty-five minutes without ever speaking aloud.  My mind was able to be quiet and receptive.  It was almost like I dreamed conversations with God on those morning walks.

Lent was about listening - and not only listening to God, but to my body and my soul.  I found out what clothing I like best on cool mornings, what to wear when it rains and that I need a new pair of shoes.  I found that quiet wakefulness can be more restful than a few minutes of extra sleep in the morning.

What will Easter be about?  Right now I'm not very sure.  I would like for Easter to be more active on my part than Lent has been.  I'd like to not just receive, but give.  I'd like to not just listen, but talk.  But I've been incredibly overwhelmed by life over the last ten days, so I'm not sure I'm in the position to offer much on my own.  In fact, that's another lesson I learned this Lent: I can do very little in my own power.  I can't even see my own sin without help, much less change and make myself more whole.  So whatever Easter is about, it will have to be about doing it in the resurrection power of Jesus, not the barely-holding-it together power of Shannon.

I've read that we Christians are Easter people.  It's what we celebrate on Easter morning, not Christmas morning, that sets us apart from others.  It's what was missing from that grave all those years ago that makes us able to live out of a power and peace that is not our own.  It's the fact that someone fully God and fully human once loved (and still loves) us enough to let that love take his life from him, but not defeat him in death.

I want to be an Easter person.  I want this season of my life to be one that sees me face life's uncertainties, challenges, joys, disappointments and surprises with peace, grace, humility and strength.  I want to be an Easter person.

BEAUTY

1 : the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit : loveliness

Last Wednesday evening I was on my way to a gathering of moms.  We meet twice monthly to pray, share some silence and encourage one another.  This particular evening was a lovely one.  The weather was nice.  I was driving J's car, so I had the sun roof open and the windows rolled down.  Even though I knew it would make me a few minutes late, I couldn't bring myself to get on the interstate.  Instead, I took the slower, but more enjoyable, ride.  When I explained my late arrival to my friends, one of them said, "You are so aware of aesthetics - even on something like a car ride!"  I had never thought of it that way, but she's right.  I appreciate beauty, in all its various forms.

This weekend, we traveled to East Tennessee for some time away from home.  It was good for my soul, not the least because of the beautiful surroundings.  I marveled at the lush greens,

the budding pine cones,

the side-of-the-road wildflowers,

the soaring mountains,

the roaring rivers.

As we were sitting riverside having a picnic, B pondered aloud, "I wonder what Nashville would look like without roads, without people, without buildings.  I wonder what it looked like before all of that." 

That's worth thinking about, isn't it?  What would this world look like without all of our roads, buildings, businesses, power lines and on and on?  Because I can tell you that I think left unchecked, nature tends towards beauty.

God's world, His creation - all of that rushes headlong towards loveliness.  The stuff of man?  Not so much.  In sharp contrast to the natural world, our efforts to make our lives easier with paved roads, running water and constantly available electricity and technology often serve to rob our lives of beauty instead of adding it.

I'm not a Luddite.  In fact, today I read an article about the low ownership of dishwashers amongst the English and thought, "Well, that's one strike against living in England."  I am fond of creature comforts, but surrounded by evidence that mankind knows little self-restraint.  We keep building and buying when we should stop, look and breathe deeply.

I'm not saying we should all move to shacks in the woods.  I am saying we should make more of an effort to find and embrace beauty in our everyday lives.  Because our souls long for it, whether we hear them or not.

AWAY

2 : from this or that place

There is something to be said for getting away.  For leaving behind your daily life.  For breaking up the carefully ordered routine that gets your family through each day.

I say this having just spent four nights away with my family for a Spring Break weekend.  We left Friday afternoon and headed for the mountains - to a simple cabin that was no frills, no wi-fi, no pressure.  There wasn't laundry waiting to be done when I arrived.  There weren't children's shoes scattered about the living room floor.  The only books in the house were on a bookshelf.

Going away to vacation is always more relaxing than being at home (even if I do love having time off at home to visit our favorite hometown places).  It's a combination of physically leaving your known surroundings, whether by car or plane, and a mentally leaving behind the responsibilities that surround you in your home environment.  I think this is especially true for a stay at home mom (and perhaps even more so for a homeschooling mom).  There is always something I can be doing if I'm at home.  This doesn't mean I'm doing it - I may be reading a book instead - but you can be certain there is always cleaning, organizing or planning to be done.

But in a cabin in the mountains?  There was no cleaning.  There was minimal cooking.  Accompanied by lots of reading, a movie every night for the girls and the completion of a book I've been reading for weeks.  There were family walks, visits to a national park, riding roller coasters at a theme park, celebrating Palm Sunday at a tiny but picturesque church, picnicking riverside and wading in a river.  This last was done only by my daughters.  After putting my feet in and finding out the river felt like ice water, I opted to watch them play instead of play with them.

We didn't spend a long time away.  With Spring Break and Holy Week coinciding, I was willing to miss Palm Sunday at our church, but wanted to be back for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter.  Yet this short trip was fun, rejuvenating and as restful as a vacation with three daughters can be.

On our second night at the cabin, I prayed with the girls all together instead of individually.  Each daughter prayed about her thankfulness for time away.  12 year old A mentioned being thankful for getting to see a new place.  10 year old B was thankful for the mountains.  7 year old K was thankful for a cabin with a lamp by her bed (the poor child clearly needs a bedside table and lamp).

I am thankful, too.  For time to see a new and different part of our state.  For time to explore our world together.  For glimpses of nature's beauty and how varied and vibrant it is.  For a few days to sleep in and read more.  I'm thankful to have had some time away.

(I have some lovely pictures of everything from the view from our cabin to a mama black bear with her cubs.  I will post them when I find the camera...)

REINFORCE

1 : to strengthen by additional assistance, material, or support : make stronger or more pronounced

That message from this weekend about me needing rest? I think maybe God thought I wasn't opening that gift to the fullest, so he thought he'd reinforce the message.

Yesterday, while lunching with a friend, I got a call from K's school saying she had a fever of 101.  I didn't take her temperature within the next hour or so, but I can tell you it surely climbed.  Her tiny little body was positively radiating heat.  She had an up and down night and I ended up sleeping with her from 2 AM on.

So today finds us all resting.  A, B and I had several things planned for today: an annual check up for A, mid-day liturgy at St. B's, followed by a trip to the zoo with friends.  Since we knew all of that was coming, we did today's school work on Monday to free up today.  Around 8 this morning, I gave the girls a choice: take today off as planned (but to read instead of taking a field trip) or do tomorrow's work and take a field trip tomorrow.  The verdict was to spend today reading.  And resting.

Each of my children is more extroverted than the previous:

A (age 12) is a pretty classic introvert.  She would choose time at home doing quiet things over nearly any activity.  She enjoys people, but they wear her out.  We know to plan for downtime for her after she's been around a lot of people. 

B (age 10) is similar to J in her introversion/extroversion mix.  When J took the Myers-Briggs assessment, he was right at the border for I/E.  Both of these people I love need to be around others, but they long for time alone as well.  Their challenge?  Because they are in that space that bridges introversion and extroversion, they sometimes struggle against resting even when they need it.  They crave stimulation, but don't want to seek it.  B in particular will let herself be satisfied with nameless, faceless interaction instead of seeking real relationship, which would be far more fulfilling in the long run.

K is a classic extrovert.  The worst punishment possible is to send her away from other people.  In first grade, I suggested to her teacher that instead of removing playground time if K misbehaved, she should put her at a desk away from the rest of the class.  I think she only had to do this one time.  Over the last day while K has been sick, I've had to remind myself that she doesn't want what the rest of my family wants while sick:  she does not want to be left alone.  She wants me to cater to her, sit on her bed, rub her back and just be near her.  I think it delighted her to wake up beside me in bed.  The gift of having someone to talk to the minute you wake up!  Yet I have been thankful to see as K as grown that she does have a teeny tiny introvert in her.  She loves to read.  And, like her sister A, K is learning to listen to her body and soul.  She knows what she needs.  So she is reading in bed right now, getting the rest her body needs to heal.

I think it's interesting that the paragraphs I just wrote about my children got longer the more different the child is from me.  I find it easy to explain the level of interaction A needs because it's so similar to my own.  But I  have to work to see what B and K need because it doesn't match my own experience.  It takes me more words to say the same thing because I'm explaining it to myself and trying to understand.

Maybe that's the way it works with rest as well.  I need to understand that the amount of rest I need is not based on the time I have available to rest.  It's based on the need I have, regardless of how easy it is to set aside my own agenda for that hour, day or week.

REST

1 : repose, sleep; specifically : a bodily state characterized by minimal functional and metabolic activities

I went away on a silent retreat last weekend.  It was not what I had expected.  In the past, these retreats have energized me.  I've generally slept well, but have often found myself awake earlier than usual from excitement at the idea of spending the day in silence.  Not this time.  Friday night I went to sleep around 9:00 and slept until 7:45.  Saturday, I was like a two year old: I took a morning nap, an afternoon nap and went to bed again around 9:00.  I knew I was tired heading into this retreat, but I didn't know just how much my body and spirit were craving rest.

So instead of spending intense time with God, I rested.  I walked the grounds. 

I sat on a blanket by the pond.

I watched the geese - and wild turkeys and squirrels and butterflies and deer.

I marveled at how early spring has arrived and the way it's impossible to keep nature from asserting herself.  Flowers pop up in unexpected places, just waiting to be seen and offer their little blessing.

This resting has continued, albeit in a less pastoral setting, in the days following the retreat.  I had planned to join friends for dinner and a movie last night, but realized by midday that all I really wanted to do was have dinner with my family and read my current (very good) book.  So I cooked an easy meal, sat with my family at the dinner table and then retired to the couch.  My regular Tuesday bible study gathering was canceled for today, so I am claiming it for more rest.  I hope to catch up on some writing, do some reading and take a nap.

Our culture does not encourage us to rest and I have struggled internally to accept that rest is what I need right now.  As I was walking this morning, I was thinking about how God can heal us while we rest.  That's true, but I also believe we don't always need an additional reason to rest.  Sometimes it's just what we crave and where we need to go.

As spring arrives and summer looms on the horizon, I hope you will take time to rest in whatever form you need.  If that translates to evening strolls with your partner, an extra cup of tea in the morning or a good book on the weekend, take it.  Claim it as yours.  Enjoy it.  Soak it up.  Leave refreshed.