The How We Found Out Story...

The story starts a week earlier at about 6 pm upon returning from the farm. It starts with one line and not two. It starts with a sheepish confession to my husband, “I took a pregnancy test. It was negative.” “How do you feel about that?” “Kinda sad.”

Fast-forward one week. Still no tell tale morning cramps. No ribbons of pink blood in the toilet. My mind keeps returning to the instructions on the pregnancy test box. If you still have not gotten your period in one week take another test. And tests are most accurate when taken first thing in the morning. I’m not pregnant. But those pee sticks come in packs of two. And I have one left… Morning. Wait until the morning.

4:45 am. I have to pee. I have to take that test with my first pee of the day. It is waaaaaaaaaaay to early to be up. I’ll pee on the stick and go back to bed. The pee stick will still be there in 2 hours. So I do that. And, because I really don’t think I’m pregnant and I’m only taking this test for due diligence, I am miraculously able to sleep.

6:30 am. Now Ireally do have to get up. As I shuffle to the bathroom to pee again I remember what I left on the bathroom sink two hours ago. Bleary eyed and still not quite all together there I pick up the pee stick of destiny. One dark line. And one not so dark line. I look at the “pregnant” picture on the box. It has 2 lines but they both appear dark. What does one dark and one light line mean? Am I only a little pregnant? Did I leave it out too long and some how magically a second line appeared? Could I actually, really be pregnant?

“Holy Crap! Tommy!”

He bolts out of bed like a fireman who’s just heard the bell. “I don’t know what this means?! I think I’m pregnant!”

I show him the pee stick and explain my two dark line/one dark, one light line conundrum. “I think this means your pregnant,” he says, a little too uncertainly for my liking.

Needing to feel 100% certain, I tell him I’m going to CVS to get one of those idiot proof pee sticks that says “pregnant” or “not pregnant” and because I was planning on working out this morning anyway, I startwalking there.

And because it’s still not 7am I have to stand outside the CVS with a few homeless people and the other creeps like me who are waiting for the CVS to open up. And because it’s CVS and not Walgreens, I have to ask the manager to unlock the “family planning “ section where condoms and lube reside next to the pregnancy tests.

And I run home, idiot-proof pee sticks in hand. Tommy’s hopping out of the shower as I pee on the stick. Then, he clad in only a towel, we proceed to argue about whether or not we will watch the flashing clock until it settles on the one or two words that could change our lives forever (his preferred plan) or walk away for 3-5 minutes and come back for the results (my choice). And then, as I frantically try to peel him away from the pee stick and into another room, the flashing stops.

Pregnant.

And suddenly Tommy has enveloped me in his trademark bear hug and life has changed in a moment. We have just gone from two to three.

Decade...

10 years is a big theme in my life right now. My 10 year class reunion is coming up this fall and already a facebook message page is abuzz with excitement, memories and suggestions for how to mark this momentous occasion. This month marks another 10 year anniversary in my life. In January of 2001 I committed my life to Christ. Strangely, despite the fact that I journaled about everything during this period of my life, I didn't seem to feel it necessary to record the exact time and date that I made that decision. So all I know is that it was in January...sometime in the middle I think.

I remember the moment quite vividly, despite it's lack of presence in my journal. I remember the dinner with Kyle in Panera, my lamenting about just not quite being ready to call myself a follower, his do you believe questions, my yes answers and Kyle's simple, obvious statement, "well Colleen, I don't know how to tell you this, but you pretty much believe all the core Christian faith beliefs." It was almost as though he were a doctor telling me that, in spite of my insistence that something was wrong, I was, in fact, quite healthy. And my response: "yes I know I believe all that, but something is still missing." I remember going home that night, sitting on the edge of my bed in my high school bedroom, the west wall a collage of pictures of friends and happy occasions. I remember the words jumping out at me, "what must you do to be saved? Love the Lord with all your heart and soul and body and mind. And love your neighbor as yourself." I remember my sudden, light bulb, Oprah a-ha moment realization- that's it? I can do that. I remember the instant message conversation with Byron, my dear friend who had been so Christ-like to me in his sweet, accepting love, later that evening, his exclamation points cheering me on in my decision. I remember telling my Christian friends the next day, tentatively, shyly, and my surprise at their excited, happy reactions. And I remember that deep knowing that now that I'd said it out loud, made that commitment, there was no going back. I was in it for the long haul.

That verse is somewhat ominous as I reflect back on my 10 years of loving God. My relationship with Christ has, at times, felt a lot like all of my high school relationships. Me, desperately trying to earn God's love, to be shiny and bright and good enough to catch his attention, loving Him from afar. Me, making a much larger deal than necessary of small, sometimes insignificant moments, almost as a way to prove or validate the relationship. Me, knowing this wasn't right, knowing I had the whole "Christian life" wrong, but unable to know how to fix it. Me doing all the loving, not really knowing or expecting to be loved in return.

In the last two or three years I've tentatively dipped my toes in the waters of another way with God. A more authentic, peaceful, true way. I've had real, significant moments when I've let Christ's love wash over me, transform me, fill me. I've heard the voice of God, clearly and beautifully. I've given myself more grace than ever before and I've found more grace in God.

In my 10 years with God those moments are unfortunately too rare. I so easily revert back to my old ways, resigning myself to this unhealthy relationship with a version of God I've created instead of living out a life giving one with the real and true Creator. I choose the dysfunctional relationship every time, out of laziness, or comfort or fear. I've likened it to holding on the the bumper of a speeding car, falsely believing I can control that car if I just try hard enough, when, in reality,the car is dragging me along, battering and bruising me at every turn. Letting go is to scary, however. The view of the back of the car is at least familiar; I don't know where I would end up if I let go.

And so I cling, getting more and more battered and bruised with each pothole and hairpin turn. The longer I hold on, the more faith I lose. The more I believe in my own abilities to make things work and turn this car around, the less I believe in the saving grace of God. And the further I get from that grace, the less I want others to know God. Why would I want others to get involved in this abusive relationship? Save yourself. Life with God is hard and painful and reward less. I'd get out but 10 years ago I made a for life commitment.

But my way of living is not life with God. And I need to let go once and for all. I'm half-heartedly worshiping a sadistic, abusive idol when I could be embracing the true God whose name is Love and is Grace personified. My hope is that as my 20 year high school reunion approaches I can look back on the last 10 years with God differently. I want to see a decade that has been rich with the goodness of God's grace, one that is marked with an understanding of just how much God loves me, not just how much I can beat myself up trying to love Him. I want this next 10 years to be thick with the presence of the one true God in my life. I want to overflow with all that I've received from Him. It's all there. God is waiting patiently for me to really see him. But first I need to end, once and for all, this unhealthy relationship with the fake God I've mistaken for the real thing all these years.

Buzz

I need that buzz today. That spark, that energy in my innermost being that is tangible evidence of my connection to my creator. Truth be told the moments I’ve carried that energy and fire around inside of me are few and far between. The last time was during this past advent. At the beginning of Advent I made a decision to make this year the year that I stopped flying through the Advent season buying gifts and attending parties without a moment to pause and reflect on what this season is really all about. I decided, partially, I think, because my son’s baptism coincided with the first Sunday of Advent, that this year I was going to do what Advent calls me to do: anticipate. I needed to be present in this season of anticipation.

So I did something both incredibly obvious and at the same time incredibly profound. I sat down to connect with God. This time however I wanted to try something different. I googled Advent practices and came across one from a church in Michigan. The Prayer of Examen. I liked it. It was doable. It is not new or fresh to the world. It’s been around for ages. But it was new and fresh to me. And just as I was discovering this new and fresh to me practice in my inbox an email hit with another Advent practice. The Lectio Divina. Another practice that is not a wild new idea but rather centuries old. But, again, to me it was new and fresh. And this email came from a leadership development group that provided me with four lectionary readings for the week. Four passages of scripture with which to try this new practice of Lectio Divina. So there it was. As though they had been sent from God himself, my Advent practices.

And the first few days were magical. God spoke clearly and beautifully to me through these ancient practices. I walked around with a sense of, dare I say, anticipation, excited for what God was and would be doing. I listened to others better, slowed down more often, and connected with God more throughout the day.

But then, as it often happens, life got in the way. I chose to spend my free moments doing chores, or watching reruns of Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Each week I would get a new email with new lectionary readings. And for the first few days it would set me back on track, until I was easily derailed again. All in all it was probably the most intention I’ve ever given the Advent season. But it wasn’t all the intention I had to give.

Now we are weeks into a new year; Christmas has been boxed up and put away. And I am feeling the deadness that comes from too many days without a real and meaningful connection to God. I’ve tried those ancient practices again, but they didn’t have the same effect. I think it may have had something to do with my motivations for returning to them. During the Advent series I used these new practices to help me connect with God. And the byproduct was a sense of purpose and inspiration. The byproduct was the buzz. Now I am returning to these practices for the buzz, not the connection. I want the cheap thrill, not the deeper connection. I feel a little like an addict desperately trying to find that high again. To take the hit that will give me the buzz I so desperately need.

And I do this all the time. I find something in my walk with God that works that connects me to Him and makes scripture come alive. Then I turn this beautiful practice in to an idol. I return to it, not to allow myself to be present and filled with the love of my creator, but to feel the energy and anticipation that comes when I am deeply anchored in God’s love and purpose. I allow myself to believe that unless I’m doing this X practice, for X minutes, my time with God doesn’t count and isn’t worth even coming to the table for. I believe that this is the only way God wants to connect with me and if it’s not working it’s my fault and I have to keep trying until I can make it work or just walk away from meeting with God all together. And then, as you can guess, I always choose the latter and let weeks go by without any significant attempt to pray or read scripture or even really think about God. And then I feel dead and meaningless and short-tempered and consumed with the mundane. Until God, with grace I am undeserving of, finds away to present a new practice, a new way of connecting. And it is beautiful and wonder-filled until I go and screw it up again…and the cycle continues.

I’ve been a Christian for 10 years. And in those 10 years I’ve learned a thing or two about myself and God. One of those things is that I need variety in my walk with God. I need to change it up, to be present in the large AND small moments, to try new things and trust that God is there waiting with open arms for me. And in my best moments I do. But far, far more often I revert back to autopilot. Continue my horrid cycle of trying something new, feeling deeply connected to my Abba, turning that something new into an idol and pushing myself away from God. It’s insanity! Will I ever learn? Will I always struggle and work within this cycle. I have prayed countless times for God to break through. To create a change in me. Still waiting. Still plowing through. At least, I’m still trying.