broken

it's a word that keeps coming back to me lately: broken.

It's how I felt on Monday when I heard the news from the Boston marathon. Broken.

It's how I felt on Tuesday when I read the news that a high school classmate, beautiful mother of 4, had passed away from cancer, her children by her side.

It's how I felt when I heard that Melanie, strong mother of our little friend Nolan, sang him lullabies into the night as he breathed his last breath.

It's how I felt when Nolan was diagnosed with brain cancer. It's how I felt when he died.

It's how I felt imagining my own 6 year old as one of those first-graders at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut last December.

From public news to the personal stories all around us, there are cracks and huge chasms.

"There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." - Leonard Cohen

I usually like to protect myself. Say "I can't go there." Just to preserve me. And because I'm afraid. But lately, I've let the cracks shape me. Tear me open just a bit.

Those cracks make me sad, but also open me to tenderness. To compassion. To love.

Some days I have cried, cursed God, stared blankly out windows, no prayer words coming. Because there's something I know in the deepest part of me: it could have been me.

"The end of my youth was the possible truth that it all happens randomly." - Indigo Girls

The sermon preached at Nolan's funeral by Rev. Mark Lewis, helped me to remember to believe. In God, in humanity, in tenderness. I want to share some of the words with you:

"When a child dies, when a life so bright and promising comes to an untimely end, I ask the same questions that many of you are asking today, “Where is God?” and “How can God be so cruel?” I have struggled with these questions throughout my life, and I have worked out answers which might be of some help. I think I can tell you where God is.

On the night of Friday March 22, just before the opening game of the Kitchener Rangers / Guelph Storm series, God was at center ice; God was in the heart of a little boy filled with excitement, joy and exuberance as he dropped the puck to start the series. God was in the heart of a little boy so concerned with fairness that he wore both a Rangers Jersey and a signed Storm hat in order to show no bias. God was there! And not just in the boy, but also in his mom and dad and his two sisters who shared his joy and understood what the moment meant to the boy. And God was in the fans who filled the arena and who understood the majesty, solemnity, gravity and transcendent joy of the moment. And God was in the players who gladly stepped aside in awe and respect to invite Nolan to center ice and into such a magnificent moment. God is in humanity when humanity rises to such heights of love and compassion.  

God is not outside of us; God does not just live in churches, and is not particularly concerned with religious matters. God is concerned with tenderness and with our ability to feel the hurt and joy of others. God lives in us when with compassion we feel the needs of others.

You all feel brokenness, deep sorrow and tenderness towards this family; those feelings are God. 

God is not external to us; God is not outside or foreign. God is in our tears and our laughter.  God is in our love and care. We should have known this all along."

mourning with my children

It feels like the last week has passed in a foggy haze. Easter came too early this year, and I'm still not really there. I can identify with disciples who were walking around aimlessly, wondering what had happened to their friend and teacher. Right now I'm still not ready to believe in the miracle of the resurrection. Questions from my daughters ring in my ears: "why Jesus, but not Nolan? Why Lazarus, but not our friend?"

Mourning and celebrating the life of our dear friend Nolan has been heartbreaking and deeply moving. We are better people for knowing him and his inspiring family.

This has been a huge time of learning for our daughters and for us as parents. It was a teacher we didn't ask for: a friend who became sick with a terminal brain cancer - but it's the one we got, and we have certainly learned a lot of life lessons.

We have learned about the importance of visiting friends who may look and sound different than when we used to play with them at school.

We learned that you can care for people going through hard times by showing them you care, and by surrounding them with prayers. It's not an exaggeration to say that we have prayed for Nolan every day since we learned of his illness in September. Eden continues her prayers this week, praying that Nolan is having a good time with our guinea pig in heaven. His heroic journey has left a permanent mark on our whole family.

We learned that prayers can come in tangible forms. Our daughters and their friend gave a symbol of love by gifting Nolan with a prayer shawl in the fall. His mom told us that he kept this blanket very close, asking for it to come with him on his visits to the hospital. Prayers can come in the form of food and cards and messages of support and condolence. Today the girls wanted to pick out special beads to give to his family - ones that reminded them of Nolan.

We learned that it's ok to cry. Children learn, somehow, that they should keep their tears inside and not let others see them cry. We have done a lot of crying as a family: crying first for his illness, and then to mourn his death. We have cried in front of our church, and cried in front of friends and family. It's not just ok to cry; it's good to cry.

We learned that through this mourning, walls are broken down. Other parents of children our age, who were acquaintances before, become friends as we console each other in this time of deep pain. Teachers hug students, parents hug teachers, boundaries that are usually put up in the name of safety and professionalism fall down as we realize that we are all just humans grieving a great loss of a little boy.

We learned that others support you when you're grieving. Through hugs, phone calls, flowers, cards, and presence people show that they care that you are hurting. This is a powerful lesson of compassion.

We have learned about funerals: tributes, caskets, giving flowers, sharing photos, and remembering.

We learned that in this life we will experience pain, and that we can show God/love/tenderness to each other by supporting each other through that pain.

We learned that cancer is as close as your good friend in kindergarten.

We learned that a life can go on in the way that we live today. We know what things were important to Nolan. How can we pay tribute to these things in our own lives in an ongoing way?

We learned that grief comes and goes. We can't just cry once and be finished. Eden's teacher told me that for kids, grief is like puddle-jumping. They're in one moment, then out the next.

Eden's dragonfly and lily pad with names to remind her of loved ones who have died.
Great kids' book about dying that her Sunday school teacher read: Waterbugs and Dragonflies.

We learned that we live in a broken, grieving world where people are capable of boundless love and deep tenderness. That we need those things in large amounts in our world today. We need compassionate children and adults.

We learned that we can continue to remember.

sock bunnies and other Easter traditions

If you're sitting around today, wondering what to do with some odd socks, I have an idea for you:

make a sock bunny.

Two friends and I spent a marvelous afternoon together several weeks ago. We brought socks, thread, stuffing, stories, and lots of laughter.

I used these instructions to make my sock bunny. Her name is Argyle:

It just took one sock to make her and I thought that I could easily make one of these for each of my nieces and nephews. That was a nice thought.

This craft afternoon all started as a result of a conversation that we had in January, where we ended up laughing uproariously over some of our ideas, like having a sock monkey ministry. But guess what? It's already happening - in Toronto, no less. Take a look! 

My other friends were making sock monkeys from this pattern. Here is one, called Rainbow (clothing included on the second shot):

A blessed Easter to you, whether you make sock animals or not. For us, today will be filled with:

* paska making (Derek's Russian Mennonite heritage)

* egg cheese making (my Swiss Mennonite heritage)

* egg dying (Z+E's secular heritage) :)

* resurrection rolls (maybe those will be saved 'til tomorrow)

what Nolan taught me

Be careful of the friends your child lets into her heart. Because you just might find that they've made their way into your heart too. This doesn't sound like a bad thing, but today it hurts.

Our 6 year old friend Nolan, Eden's kindergarten boyfriend, was battling brain cancer. His journey ended Thursday night, the night before Good Friday.

On Ash Wednesday, I began the Lenten season by reading an early morning email from a strong mother, finding brave words to tell family and friends that her son might not live to see his 7th birthday in April. Hard words to read, let alone write.

Through these almost-40 days of Lent, I have cried many tears. For Nolan, for Nolan's mom and dad, for families who go through this dark hell. I have prayed, and cried out to God, and begged for his life.

And today, as I thought of Good Friday and brokenness and hopes dashed and lives cut short, I cried again. And tried to answer our daughters' questions of "why," but mostly my answers were "I don't know. It's not fair, and there is just no good explanation." I refuse to give them answers like "it was God's will" or "it was his time to die" because I just don't believe that. We live in a broken world, and sometimes life is very hard and truly unfair.

As we cried and hugged each other, I thought of all the lessons that Nolan taught me:

* to wonder and learn from nature, from creepy-crawly insects to red-eyed tree frogs to slippery snakes

* to fight for life, and defend it like the best hockey goalie around

* to pursue your dreams, like horseback riding, collecting bugs in Florida, and meeting great hockey players

* that Kitchener Rangers hockey games are a pile of fun to watch (we went last Friday to watch Nolan drop the puck to start the game)

* to think of others, gifting them with Valentine cards and Sea World stuffies

* to hold onto bits of life - to butterflies, to rays of sunlight through the window, to bright stars at night

* to stare dark monsters in the face and whisper, "Not a chance, monsters. Not a chance."

* that no matter what your age, you can affect countless people with your life

Nolan, we will never forget you - especially Eden. You stole her heart from the first day of Kindergarten. She admired you and called you a bug expert. Her goal for the year 2012 was to marry you, and you will always have a place in her heart. After all, how could she forget her first kiss in the line-up to the computer lab? You have taught us so much in your short life. Rest in God's care, Nolan.

Eden and Nolan in Kindergarten

dirty feet?

See my post from today about the ritual of footwashing over here at the Practicing Families website. I wanted my girls to help with a photo shoot this past weekend, and I thought it would be just that: taking pictures of feet in a basin. But they got so into it, that I just had to tell the story of Jesus being a servant to his followers.

Then one thing led to another, and my daughters were saying, "Will you let me serve you?" to each other, and actually meaning it. That's when I got a few tears in my eyes. They giggled because of tickly feet, and at the end said, "That was so awesome! When can we do it again?"

One daughter felt like the next morning was as good a time as any. She filled up the basin again, and a visiting 2-year old cousin got her whole body in the basin - she felt like just feet were not enough.

This idea of servant, upside-down leadership never gets too old for me.

Dutch Blitz dialogue

Who knew that an afternoon with 40 Muslim girls, 8 Mennonite girls, and a set of giant Dutch Blitz cards could be so absolutely wonderful?

A group of Muslim girls, ages 12-15, and their leaders were meeting during March break at Hidden Acres, a local Mennonite camp. They asked the camp director if he could refer them to someone that could talk to them about Mennonites, and possibly bring some girls along who are their ages. That's where I came in. So a friend and I rounded up a small group of girls from two local congregations and agreed to meet at the camp.

As the girls entered the room, they introduced themselves to each other, sitting down on couches and sharing some small interactions. For one Muslim girl, there was no need for small talk. Her first request to 2 of the Mennonite girls was this: "Can you teach me a new prayer?"

What if all of our interactions with people of other faiths began like that: can you teach me a new prayer? 

I tried to explain Mennonites in 5 minutes or less, then opened it up for questions. The question-answer time - where questions were coming from both Muslims and Mennonites, and answers too - lasted 1.5 hours! I couldn't believe how engaged the girls were. Their engagement, ability to articulate, desire to learn, and commitment to faith was truly inspiring. The girls, Muslim and Mennonite, responded to questions about their faith and faith communities. Even my young daughters were spellbound.

The Mennonite girls spoke about what it means for them to be part of the church. The Muslim girls spoke eloquently about their beliefs and the challenges of living out faith in their everyday lives. They told us of groups that they meet with once a week for teaching and encouragement. They can bring questions and problems they're having to discuss with adults in their group.

At bedtime last night, our daughters asked about those support groups. Why can't we have a group like that, Mom? So that got my wheels turning.

We introduced the Muslim group to the game Dutch Blitz, a Mennonite card game that has been morphed into a large group activity with huge cardboard cards. This was a pile of fun to watch as the girls jumped and dove over each other to put their cards on the centre piles.

Then we ate a snack together with more interacting around the tables.

An afternoon to remember - time very well spent. And we hope it's just the beginning.

world without end

I've been listening to talk of cardinals and Vatican city and black smoke and conclave and locked doors and wondering: what exactly does this have to do with my life? And I've been coming up with absolutely nothing.

But yesterday when we watched the announcement of the new pope, I got a little teary-eyed. The part that affected me most? When Pope Francis ended his prayer with "world without end."

It's a term I don't use in my prayers, but he might just have inspired me to add it. It sounds so hopeful - like there really might be a point to this whole religion thing after all. And to life in general too. And it made me hopeful for a tradition - full of flaws and brokenness - that can speak a word of new hope to this generation.

As a Mennonite, I don't have many prayers that I recite and say over and over again. And sometimes this makes me a bit sad. I yearn for some ritual in my daily routine. Some connection to the divine that's been practiced for years and years and years.

So perhaps I'll try to incorporate this short "glory be" prayer as a way to build hope into my day.

Glory be to the Father,
and to the Son,
and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning,
is now, and ever shall be,
world without end,
Amen.

what do Mennonites believe?

This Friday we have an interesting opportunity. We are meeting with a group of about 40 Muslim girls at a local Mennonite camp to play together and learn about each other. The Muslim group initiated this. They want to know: what do Mennonites believe? 

We've gathered a group of about 12 Mennonite girls, youth, and moms to meet with this group. I offered that we could teach them Giant Dutch Blitz (a rambunctious, active game that will have us stumbling all over each other in the gym). I warned Sultana, one of the leaders, that this won't teach them about our faith - just might show them how competitive Mennonites can be when we're playing games. 

Sultana also mentioned that she wants a chance to hear about what we believe. This is the piece I've been pondering for the last few days. How do I summarize our beliefs in a way that 12-15 year old Muslim girls will get something out of it, and that our girls will feel it represents them? How do I boil the complexities down into something simple and palatable?

When I asked my own girls what our church believes, these were their responses:

[9 year old daughter] shrugs shoulders

[6 year old daughter] "What do you even MEAN?"

[me] "I mean what do we believe about God and about us and about the world?"

[6 year old daughter] "What does 'believe' mean?"

[me] "Like what you think about God."

[6 year old daughter] "Doesn't EVERYONE think about God?"

[me] "Maybe. But what do YOU think about God?"

[6 year old daughter] "That God wants us to be nice?"

[me] "OK - anything else?"

[6 year old daughter] "That I can talk to God and God made the world and wants people to get along."

I came away a bit puzzled as to why these questions were so confusing to my daughters. Admittedly, we don't often talk about our beliefs. I believe that actions speak louder than words, and hopefully my children are "hearing" some of our beliefs in action. I hope that they're absorbing faith by osmosis, understanding the gifts of hospitality to both giver and receiver, the importance of being generous with your love and compassion and money, the ways that we can work to bring about a more peace-filled world. 

Derek and I pondered this over sushi last night. At what age do we label our thoughts and actions as "beliefs"?

One belief that I'll put on the table right now: that children are born with an innate knowledge of God, and sometimes we squash it out of them. 

I want to be careful that I'm not extinguishing my daughters' own unique theological thoughts, connections to God, beliefs - whatever you want to call them - about who God is, and who they are in relation to God. I don’t want to pile on cement-like heavy beliefs so that it’s hard for them to excavate down to the ones they find life-giving. I want to learn from them because I intuitively know that sometimes they're better connected to that Spirit than I am. 

I know that my own beliefs have changed over time, and I suspect/hope they’ll keep on changing. But the task at hand for this Friday remains the same: how do I present a group’s beliefs in a way that feels authentic and real?