When I was 7 years old I stood in front of my classroom of peers holding a collage of magazine photos representing "What I Wanted To Be When I Grow Up."  In the very center on a dotted line my teacher had written NURSE for me in bright red print.  I had used as many photos as I could find of nurses-filling in the gaps with photos of women taking care of others:  feeding them, holding them, loving them.

Saying I wanted to be a nurse at 7 years old was a pretty lofty goal for someone who couldn't remember to brush her teeth and picked her nose, but I still remember that for years when someone would ask me "what do you want to be when you grow up" I felt a lot of security in knowing that I had a solid answer for them.  Just like the girls who said "teacher" and the boys who said "firefighter" there was a direct path to get there if you were privileged enough-and that I understood even at that ripe young age.

Be a good girl.
Follow the rules.
Make good grades.
Stay out of trouble.
Go to college.
Know the right people.
Get hired.
Consume.

All these years later as my life has taken a very different path I've spent a lot of time wondering how I could be so certain back then of what I wanted to do and how to do it.  How come there are so many of us in our 20's, 30's, 40's so uncertain about the most important things in life?  

Being strong and confident.
Sharing our stories.
Raising children (our own or others).
Loving well.
Taking care of our physical, mental, spiritual selves.
Surviving.

I can't help but wonder how my life may have been different had the questions been different.  What if instead of asking what I wanted to be when I grew up people were asking me what I was passionate about?  What if they asked me what came easy to me and in what ways I knew I was talented?  What if they asked me about my life experiences-the good and bad-and how they were shaping me into who I am?  I can't help but wonder how life may be different if we were more willing to focus on the wholeness of one another rather than the ways we can restrain one another into fitting into the busyness of the current culture.

No one told me how difficult it would be to follow my unique calling in life, but they did reinforce over and over again how I might guarantee myself certainty and comfort.  But is that promise of certainty really true-or are we all waking up and realizing that what we thought was a sure path to comfort is in reality the hurried path to loneliness that is bought with too much consumption, busyness, and distraction?

When I look at where I am now I realize that I am exactly where I wanted to be at 7 years old-but I just didn't have the ability to even see it as an opportunity.  My unique calling was instead something out of reach-impracal-unrealistic-silly.

A mom of four kids.
An empowered wife with a strong husband.
A full time farmer.
A birth and breastfeeding advocate.
A writer, speaker, community organizer.

What no one told me about following my calling in life is that it would go up against every single thing that I had ever been taught.  I would have to face family and friends and tell them about each next small or big step I was taking that didn't make sense to anyone but me (and most often Nathan).  The expressions of my passion, suffering, talents, and experiences would feel offensive and downright crazy to others while for the first time in life I was starting to feel like myself.

No one told me that with practice and time it gets easier.  The feelings of despair are only temporary as you learn to speak up for yourself and not need the approval of others.  The intense fear that comes with judgement, manipulation, deceitfulness, jealousy gets more manageable with time.  When I care about birth, breastfeeding, food access, faith, equality there are people who think that I am making too much out of nothing.  The same may be for you in what you are being called to care about-whatever that is.

That is what it sometimes feels like to follow your calling.  It's hard.

I know now that in following my calling I've been brave. Men and women that I admire and respect-who have also been brave-tell me so.  Brave for being willing to choose a path that I hadn't seen anyone else ever take and a willingness to take the time to clear the way for others to follow.  Brave because everything in me wanted to give up.  To take the path I had been trained and groomed to take.  The path that made me a team player.  I've finally been told the secret that on the team where I just "go with the flow" no one every really wins.

I've learned that one of the bravest things we can do is to break free from the chains that enslave us when do not understand our worth.  To have a willingness to make small and big decisions that are in the best interest of ourselves, other good people, and our communities at large.  In order to do that I must learn that it's okay to do things that for years I had been told weren't okay.

I can say no.
I can set boundaries.
I can step away from some good things, if necessary.
I can choose "my" good every time.
I can choose to surround myself with people who are loving and kind.

When I choose to do what I know is right then I am choosing to give my good right back to people who not only deserve it, but who will do good with it.  I can prepare myself for the bullies who will make things difficult.  I can seek mentors in my life who will cast wisdom on my good and bad.  I can ask the people around me-especially my children-the most important questions that shape their future.

What are you passionate about?
In what ways are you talented?
What are your life experiences teaching you?
How might you use all of those things to do good?
How can you prepare yourself for the bullies who might fight your good?
How can I help you?

My daughter Elizabeth and I moments before a speaking engagement where I choose to overcome fear and be brave.

A couple of weeks ago I posted a photo of a stack of books I was taking on a trip with me.  That trip was to go visit my dad and spend his last days with him.  On the top of a stack was the new best selling book that I thought I might have time for reading, The Magic of Tidying Up written by Marie Kondo.

It was recommended to me by a lot of people-either because they knew I have a thing for that sort of stuff or because they’ve seen my house over the last year-either way there has been a need for some tidying up around here for sure.  It was to be a promising read during some expected down time on what was to be a one week trip to see my dad who was dying of cancer (something I hadn’t made public yet).  Let's just say that the idea of tidying up quickly took a back seat once I was faced with the reality the tragic, real life experience before me.

I’ve said before that minimizing life, eating healthy, authentic bonding, following your passion, etc. is all about quality of life and in the end mostly about our relationships with other people.  So...I began to remember what I already know about tidying up.

We Americans do own too much stuff.  I'm no exception.  It's a real problem and one that I face day to day even though I am committed to living more simply.  When we spend too much time managing our stuff we are unable to spend the time doing the meaningful work we are called to do.  There is no doubt that serious consideration to owning less and enjoying what you do have improves life.  I believe that Kondo covers this very well in her book and the skimming that I was able to do left me motivated to make some lasting changes.

That said, I fully believe that many of us in this society suffer from having too much time time on our hands.  Just like our stuff-we begin to accumulate lots of extra downtime to the point where it becomes an addictive distraction that keeps us from doing what we are called to do.  Let's not confuse that with the much needed down time needed when you are constantly giving of yourself.

When I think about my life up to the point when I really began to "stop and think" there were these large chunks of downtime:  evenings sitting around reading a book or watching TV, weekends set aside exclusively for rest and lengthy vacations.  I began to believe that doing nothing was something that I was owed rather than seeing the excess as something that should be managed just as well as my stuff.

When I go deeper into the reasons why I want my house to be tidy I realize that it's because a clean and organized home means that I might get "time off".  It means that my weekend offers more rest, my evenings offer more reading or computer time, it means that I can sit down for a minute and just breathe.  It quickly becomes the only way that this mother of four who gives so much of herself is allowed time to herself.  Not okay.

So I must ask myself, "what happens when my home is not tidy"?  Do I allow that to prevent myself from finding rest, from enjoying time with my loved ones, from reading a book, exercising or simply taking time to breathe?  Do I face the work of the day with resentment because I know that if this wasn't the life we had chosen I'd have more time just for me?  

When I look at the lives of single women close to home who are working three jobs just to feed their kids or women around the world who put every ounce of energy into keeping their kids safe from slaughter-I recognize that my privilege can often stand in my way of contentment.  Because the reality of my life is that sometimes my home won't be tidy.  In those times I can choose to allow stress, anxiety and worry about the state of my stuff keep me from doing the work I've been called to do to make this world a better place.  Not okay.

So on my trip where I had made plans to read lots of good books I choose to hold space for my dying father instead.  I watched him breathe, I took him drinks, I listened to him move, I listened to him move his foot against the bed and I touched his skin.  In the moments of death I breathed in the truth about how to truly live-contentment in all things.  Now that I'm home life goes on and my stuff piles up and I'm faced with all the same feelings over and over again.  It's helpful for me to realize that it's a continual cycle.  Realize changes need to be made, weigh the pros and cons of each choice, make the best decision for me in this season of life and move on quickly without too much self doubt and criticism.  Doing the best I can do is all that I can do-and that's more than okay.

After having my first child I was determined that he would play with the latest up and coming brightly colored Fisher Price toys on the market--he played with the remote control and telephone instead.  As my girls came along I became more naturally minded and determined that they would play with the most lovely, neutral colored, all natural, BPA free toys--of course, they played with the remote control and telephone too.  Things don't always turn out the way we hope-especially when it comes to parenting.

As we made the decision for me to become a stay at home (working) mom there was this level of perfection that I felt like I was expected to achieve.  I felt as if my children should be fed well, bathed, dressed well, happy, and behaved well-each and every single day.  

Absurd, I now know.

The level of control that you must hold over another human being in order to obtain that level of perfection is hard to achieve at best and at it's worse-capable of robbing the dignity right out from under someone-even if they are a little.  One of the most important "aha moments" that I've experienced was when I realized that each and every one of my four children are equal in personhood to me and every other person on this earth-nothing more, nothing less.  This completely changed the way that I mother.  It was the day that I realized that my needs and wants were no more important than the needs and wants of my children-or anyone else in the community around me.  It was the moment I realized how entwined we as humans were meant to be to one another regardless of age, race, gender, or any other "category" we tend to put people into.

So what did I do first?  I quit reading "how to" parenting books and started engaging real stories.  I stopped comparing my children to other peoples children.  I stopped saying, "I parent using this method or that technique".  I gave myself a big, fat, well-needed break. Praise God.

I started depending on my instincts to know what was right in the moment with each individual child on any given day.  I learned to embrace imperfection as reality-not only for myself, but for everyone else. That well-needed break?  I offered it to every other mother I knew-whether they knew to ask for it or not.

Together as a parenting team Nathan and I created realistic, age appropriate expectations for our children.  We knew that would mean that there would be times that they do not meet the societal and social expectations often placed on children, but surprisingly they often surpassed them.  We are always surprised when we hear people say, "your children are so well behaved" or "your children are so helpful" or "your children are a joy to be around".  Seriously-that's not really what we were going for, but it is a nice side effect.  I'm awfully fond of my kids so it's nice to know when other people are too.

It's really a gamble-we never wake up knowing what we will get out of our children-and that's okay. We have learned that some people will love and accept our children and others will not (or they may accept a few of our children and not the others) that has to be okay too.  Our goal is to show our children unconditional love-no matter what-especially when other people are not mature enough to offer acceptance to them like we are able to.  They might as well be fully prepared for the real world, right?

We've learned to expect our children to scream, throw tantrums, act crazy, and have an attitude-all in response to their frustration with life, learning, and leadership.  It's part of the process-so it seems.  It's in how we respond to their daily behavior that determines whether or not they fully live life, love learning, or accept leadership when it's presented to them.  Their calling in life begins today...not once they become a legal adult.

I believe that one of the best ways to raise imperfect kids is to understand that they do not always know what's going on in your personal life.  When all of a sudden I have a bad attitude, short temper, or act frustrated it could be easy for them to believe that they are to blame somehow-unless I share openly about the things going on in my life.  I've learned to say, "Mama is frustrated right now with x, y, z.  It has nothing to do with you or your behavior, but mom does need some space right now to think, talk this out with a friend, write, pray."  Kids get it, and they offer me dignified space without feelings of guilt, resentment, or frustration.  If I was to keep them sheltered to what I'm experiencing or feeling-they may think that there is something significantly wrong with them when my behavior tells them "something's wrong".

At the same time-I'm honest with my kids when their behavior and actions are causing me undue stress and anxiety.  I'll literally say, "I think that you have had too  much high fructose corn syrup today.  It's my fault that I brought it home and had it in the fridge, but I need you to stop eating it and go sit down with a book for a while."  Far from perfection, but here in our home-honesty is the best policy.

We create open space for them to be honest with us too.  If I lose my temper, scream, roll my eyes or do any other sort of "crazy mom" behavior they call me on it right away.  Imperfection doesn't mean disrespect-in fact, it embraces respect for every member of the household.  My farm kids may rarely be studious, clean or perfectly dressed, but hopefully they will see in you what I often see in them-a need that needs met, a gift that needs given, a word of compassion that needs heard.  We want our children to understand that getting what we think we deserve often means undue burdens put onto someone else.  We can't always expect other people to understand that, but we can measure our own behavior based on an understanding of that truth.

We are teaching our children to fully take responsibility-for their lives and actions.  To follow through on the responsibility of what they do well, but most importantly to acknowledge when they've messed up or let someone down.  When we are realistic about life we realize that we don't always get to do what we want to do-when we want to do it.  Sometimes we have to move beyond ourselves and serve the common good-because that is, ironically-the only way common good comes to be.  

We're consistently considering the end result.  The fact is-one day very soon our kids will be adults.  They will need to make their own decisions, engage in romantic relationships, step into leadership within their community, earn a living, and most importantly-feel good about being their very good, lovely, messy, imperfect selves.

I flew into the Charlotte airport just a few hours before a young white man walked into a black church-sat down and prayed with them and then opened fire killing 9 people.  He told one woman that he was sparing her life only so that she could spread the word of what happened during those horrific moments.  
Dear God, I pray for that woman-please give her strength in the coming days.

Since that day 7 churches have been burned and many more have received letters, calls and signs of hate in order to cast fear among their congregations.  I have every reason in the world not to worry myself with my black brothers and sisters in the south right now.  Every reason in the world, but no good excuse.  Not when my life is lead by the Holy Spirit and drops of pain, moments of truth, and examples of reality are being placed in and around my life as a reminder that caring is choosing to worry.  Worrying in a way that concerns myself with the realities that the opportunities that I have in my life have everything to do with the color of my skin and the privilege that brings to me.

I've come to believe that the Holy Spirit may be one of the most important elements of a God centered life, yet it can receive very little consideration within our day to day life.  I can't help but wonder if the lack of the Holy Spirit in our lives may just be the reason why faith in a loving God can feel so meaningless, so made up-so very hopeless.  Especially to those who are cast aside or those who are made out as sinners and constantly reminded why they're "not enough".  Without the freedom of the spirit I may choose selfishness or take it upon myself to cast judgement on others.

The text I received as I flew into that South Carolina airport was, "hope you get here soon".  I was on my way to my father who was in the last days of his life.  Ironically, as that fear filled day in South Carolina occurred I was meant to be at home hosting a day long training on racial inclusion.  It was meant to tear me open, split me in half and do things to my soul that would prepare me for "what's next" in my work as it relates to the oppressed in my community. Little did I know that my life would take a sharp turn that did all those things to me, but instead it was as I cared for my father as he died.

It's the world that tells me to slow down and take care of myself.  The Holy Spirit is continually saying, "wake up and pay attention".

Lately the Holy Spirit has been calling me to simply hold space for people-all people.  I was able to call on my experiences as a birth doula to simply sit and be still next to my father as his soul slowly left his body.  The community around me is experiencing changes that could lead me feeling out of control, but instead I'm just holding space for how I can simply be supportive and encouraging.  The same is so for what is happening right now across the country and afar.  As same-same sex marriage becomes the center of debate, Christians are being slaughtered and pushed out by ISIS, and misused power threatens the hard work of good people I could easily distract myself with things out of my control.  

As we drove home a few days we passed trucks with rebel flags flying and racial slurs scratched across windows.  Pulling into the drive I was reminded that the white people who choose to live in this home are buried under large stones and their photo is on the wall.  The black residents of this homeplace were purchased on the courthouse steps and their small stones were eventually cast aside.  What happened then has everything to do with what is happening now.  The reminders to care for everyone is everywhere.

Rather than casting opinions and engaging in debate I'm choosing to quietly and lovingly allow the Holy Spirit to lead me in the day to day-with the people right in front of me.  I'm sending a message to a beloved gay friend and thanking him for supporting my family and our lifestyle-because not everyone in the church always does.  I'm calling up a black sister and telling her that I'm here if she needs to talk about all the hurt that's happening right now in her Christian community.  I'm simply holding space for the Holy Spirit to work in my life so that my faith speaks truth.


1 Timothy 2  I urge you, first of all, to pray for all people. Ask God to help them; intercede on their behalf, and give thanks for them. 2 Pray this way for kings and all who are in authority so that we can live peaceful and quiet lives marked by godliness and dignity. 3 This is good and pleases God our Savior, 4 who wants everyone to be saved and to understand the truth. 5 For,

There is one God and one Mediator who can reconcile God and humanity—the man Christ Jesus. 6 He gave his life to purchase freedom for everyone.

This is the message God gave to the world at just the right time. 7 And I have been chosen as a preacher and apostle to teach the Gentiles this message about faith and truth. I’m not exaggerating—just telling the truth.