there are some situations that offer (me) very little in the way of the spiritual. for example, last night, in a freak bathing incident, the monkey tee teed in the bird’s face. it was ugly, folks.

sometimes, in the midst of chaos, there is just chaos. oh, and a really clean bird. today he’s practically radiant!

as i have confessed in an earlier post, i am not always very good at explaining elements of my faith to my children.

perhaps this is because kids are such concrete thinkers and i, on the other hand, am not. or maybe this is because i am keenly aware that concepts such as communion, resurrection, and the trinity are truly bizarre. if i tell my kids now that god had a baby named jesus, for example, will they ever find pause later to consider just how outlandish this story is? if stories like this become part of the familiar fabric of their childhoods, will they ever be able to recognize the unpredictable and mysterious nature of god’s movement in the world (and humanity’s interpretations thereof)?

contemporary theologian and renowned children’s book author, rabbi sandy sasso, set me straight on this topic a few years ago when i heard her interview on the public radio program, keeping the faith. sasso asserts that children are innately spiritual, and that, unlike many adults, they have not developed a fear of mystery or unanswered questions. furthermore, sasso emphasizes that it is important to teach our children the sacred stories from our own backgrounds, even if we have negative associations with these stories, even if we see these stories differently now, even if they no longer inform our notions of truth.

“stories,” says sasso, “are the vocabulary of theology for children.” they, along with the communities that tell them, are the tools children need to grapple with the mystery themselves.

these are the thoughts that went through my mind the other day when the monkey became deeply involved in creating a “major” out of a laundry basket. you know, a “major,” as in “away in the ‘major’ no crib for a bed…”

the fun continued as a stuffed animal became the stand-in for the baby jesus.

and finally, when the kids took turns dive-bombing into the “major,” i reminded myself that they were just getting the feel for some very necessary tools. they were careening into a much-needed theological vocabulary. maybe they even recognized how bizarre the whole birth story is. after all, making a crib out of a laundry basket is about as strange as making a crib out of a feeding trough.

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a what sorts of insights are emerging from your own versions of chaos? play along if you’d like. check out what erica, maryann, jaime, and kathi are finding in the midst of chaos. if i’ve forgotten to mention you here, please let me know and i’ll make the necessary revisions.

name: Uele Siebert

age: 39

current city: Memphis, TN

living situation: My household is comprised of myself and my six-year-old daughter.

occupation: Granola Goddess

photo by justin shaw; first printed in the commercial appeal

how do you structure your time and space: We operate with no divisions. Everything is integrated, as the business is in our home. My daughter comes first, so business-related activities have to be molded around her needs. I am an attached parent, so there is no childcare, although she does attend school and summer camp(s). I visualized a home-based business years before I became a mother, as I knew it was imperative to me to have my child(ren) with me, and raised by me. Togetherness is the operative.

using the metaphor of seasons to describe the phases of women’s lives,

-what are the particular challenges and highlights of your current season? Right now we are in winter. There are no farmers markets, but this season holds a whole lot of baking for retail outlets. Previous winters allowed for lots of self reflection, but I am just too busy this winter to reflect. However, winter baking is much more enjoyable than summer baking!

 

groovy foods granola

-what season(s) preceded this one? Before winter it was summer. It was hot inside and out. I focused on maintaining my cool under the enormous pressures to meet all of the demands on me during my busiest part of the year.

-what season(s) might your future hold? More summer and winter are in my future. It’s the alternately hot and cold, yin and yang balancing act. I am ready.

favorite family activities: My daughter and I like to read and cook together.

favorite solo activities: resting

source(s) of inspiration: nature

groovy foods herbans

best MakeShift moment: I had a very important report to present for a college course, and my daughter caught a rather nasty stomach virus. She could not even keep down breast milk, and I was doing everything I could to keep her hydrated, all while frantically working down to the wire on my presentation. When she showed no signs of recovering, I contacted my instructor to see if I could present for her privately on another day. When my request was denied, I had no choice but to take myself, my kid, and my presentation to to class. With my kiddo strapped on my back in the ERGO (i.e., best sling ever), I presented my speech, on the commoditization of water, to my classmates and instructor. My child did not puke or poop even once while on my back!

find uele on the web: http://groovyfoods.org/home.html

[if you know someone who would make a good “mothers of invention” feature, check out the nomination process and questionnaire located on the sidebar to your right.]

even the almost-two-year-old bird seems to value slowing down. here he is taking it upon himself to warn drivers of his recreational pursuits.

who can say that immersion in the care of children is not a spiritual exercise? they are like little prophets who know the secret pathways to the centers of our souls. there they set up shop and direct our waiting with the proper signs.

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what sorts of insights are emerging from your own versions of chaos? play along if you’d like. check out what erica, maryann, jaime, and kathi are finding in the midst of chaos. if i’ve forgotten to mention you here, please let me know and i’ll make the necessary revisions.

as i have written in a previous post, i am determined to notice the deeply spiritual nature of the holidays, even in the midst of the chaos of family life with young children. as my old vanderbilt divinity school professor, bonnie j. miller-mclemore, writes:

“limiting spirituality to the ‘inner’ life and restricting theology to the life of the mind ends up excluding a huge portion of life from both faith and theology” (in the midst of chaos, 7).

is there anything in this world that trumps parenthood in its simultaneous associations with the supremely holy and the utterly mundane?

speaking of holy (or shall i say holey?), in the midst of chaos, there is growth.

what sorts of insights are emerging from your own versions of chaos? play along if you’d like. in the midst of erica‘s chaos, there is awe, and in the midst of maryann‘s chaos, there is wonder.

i invite you to join me on my quest to find glimpses of truth and goodness amidst the parenting pandimonium of the holiday season. share a word or phrase or image on your blog and link to this post. i’ll link back to you each time i share my own images, words, phrases, etc.

you can even grab this button for your blog if you want:

it is located in the sidebar to your right.

wednesday marked the first day of hanukkah and the first day of december, and last sunday marked the first day of advent. my favorite local radio station began playing holiday music before thanksgiving, and a giant inflatable santa has been looming over union avenue since before the last pumpkin was procured from beneath his (slightly premature) air-filled feet. this is the time of year when i usually get serious about my spirituality.

in years gone by, i have read a bit of tillich each day, edited and published college students’ thoughts on advent, and spent time pouring over wonderful holiday stories by harper lee and truman capote. but those years are as i just described: gone by. there is no time for intense study, no time for ruminating on light in the darkness, no time to be so intentional about making room for hope and divinity and the dawn of new life. 

instead, there are santa beard christamas countdown calendars involving cotton balls and glue. there are cookie-baking parties and charlie brown specials. i think bonnie j. miller-mclemore says it best in her book entitled, “in the midst of chaos:”

“when people think of the spiritual life, they typically picture silence, uninterrupted and serene — a pastor’s study, a cloister walk, a monk’s cell. thinking of parenting, by contrast, they imagine noise and complication, dirty diapers, sleepless nights, phone calls from teachers, endless to-do lists, teen rooms strewn with stuff, and back seat pandemonium. by and large, these portraits are accurate. the life of faith requires focused attention that comes most easily when one is least distracted, while caring for children is one of the most intrusive, disorienting occupations around, requiring triage upon triage of decision and response. can one pursue a ‘spiritual’ life in the midst of such regular, nitty-gritty, on-the-alert demands” (2)?

when the holidays hit, there is no time to simulate the perfect conditions, tie up loose ends, or send grief away on a month-long cruise. my children are just as inclined to create poopy diapers and impromptu marker-on-wall illistrations on christmas morning as they are on every other day. there is no such thing as escaping the chaos in order to locate one’s spirituality. the meaning is IN the chaos. the chaos IS the pastor’s study, the cloister walk, and the monk’s cell. parents have the added challenege and opportunity to look for the extraordinary in the ordinary.

so that is what i’m going to do this holiday season. i am going to look for moments of deep truth and goodness in the midst of our particular brand of pandemonium. and then i am going to post about these moments in an image or phrase. if the bedlam that exists in your house should happen to contain a glimpse of divinity or insight, do share (themsrevolution(at)gmail(dot)com)! there’s no telling what we can find in the midst of chaos.

[source for this post can be found on the bibliography page located on the sidebar to your right.]

you never know when a piece of obscure information will turn out to be useful.

take the paragraph in my human development textbook on the subject of “the birds and the bees” chat with children, for example. when i read it six years ago, i could not have predicted that the time would come when this paragraph would be the tiny little rope of rescue that would save me from (yet another) dark abyss of parental cluelessness. how was i to know then that the words, “do not offer more information than your child is requesting” would emerge from the depths of my memory at just the right moment, the moment when the following comedy of errors ensued?

monkey: “mom, how do babies come out of their mommies’ bellies?”

mary allison: “they come out of the vagina, monkey.”

monkey: “mommy, what’s a vagina?”

mary allison: “you know how you have a penis? well girls don’t have penises. we have vaginas instead.”

monkey: “you mean that little hole?”

mary allison: “yep. that little hole.”

monkey: “where the poop comes out?”

mary allison: “nope. a different little hole.”

monkey: [after a ten minute silence] “so… that big old baby comes out of that little bitty hole??”

mary allison: “yep.”

monkey: [shaking his head] “well that’s not good AT ALL!”

mary allison; “tell me about it.”

hilarious that a four year old is able to recognize when the laws of physics are not working in one’s favor.

i suppose the monkey will store these fascinating new insights into the recesses of his memory, and i suppose they too will surface at just the right moment. after all, you never know when a piece of obscure information will turn out to be useful.

but lord help us if my four-year-old has any use for any of this information any time soon!

to mark the season of advent and the accompanying waiting and yearning for new life in all of its various forms, i’m posting a sermon i preached this time last year at shady grove church. it’s the most honest and vulnerable sermon i’ve ever preached, and i’m including it in the MakeShift revolution because it is equally influenced by my ministry and my motherhood. the texts of the day were jeremiah 33:14-16 and luke 21:25-36. interspersed throughout the text are some block prints i did in 2007 for the advent bulletin covers atidlewild church.

*     *     *

The “baby watch” had begun. The future grandparents called every 12 hours or so to ask about signs of labor. The great-aunt was on standby, ready to babysit the two-year-old on a moment’s notice. The nursery had been complete for a good month, the baby clothes had been washed, folded, and put away, the name had been selected, and the birthing plan had been mapped out. The new car seat was secure in the car. The two-year-old endured periodic explanations about what was about to happen, even though he really just wanted to play with his play dough in peace. And everywhere she went, that is, everywhere I went, I was a walking, waddling, symbol of Advent, pregnant, like Mary, during the days leading up to last Christmas. 

Meanwhile, the season of Advent set the stage with its rich stories. The prophets were prophesying the coming of a new king. John the Baptist was urging his congregation, the brood of vipers, to repent. Mary and Joseph saddled up a pack animal and went to be registered. The young adult Jesus was telling his disciples, and us, to look for the signs of the second coming. The weeks unfurled to the sights of Christmas lights, and the sounds of TV ads meant to herald, or perhaps beg for, salvation for our broken economy. There were the usual to-do lists and the painfully unusual absences left by death and empty nests. I don’t need to tell you what the holidays are like. We all know that strange hybrid of hope and impatience, excitement and desperation that comes when we are expecting God to break into our midst. But for me, last year, it really did all come down to the baby. My baby, who threatened all winter to make an early arrival and beat the baby Jesus to the punch.

I spent some time last year thinking that being very pregnant during Advent gave me a special entry point into this season of preparation and waiting. This brought an added measure of importance to the usual third-trimester symptoms: shortness of breath, night-waking, paranoia about missing the signs of imminent birth, mistaking my own impatience for signs of imminent birth, indigestion, emotional highs and lows, and attempts to conform this miracle to my schedule by eating spicy food, standing on my head, walking laps around the mall, etcetera.

But then I remembered that all of my Advents before had been marked by the same symptoms. Perhaps you suffer from some of these inflictions too: shortness of breath, night-waking, paranoia about missing the signs of imminent birth, mistaking your own impatience for signs of imminent birth, indigestion, emotional highs and lows, and attempts to conform this miracle to your schedule. After all, Advent’s vulnerable waiting wrapped up in the frenzy of pomp and circumstance transforms us all, every year, into people who are expecting, whether we’ve ever been pregnant or not.

But it was not just my pregnancy that connected me so intimately to the Advent story last year. It was another common thread that weaves through the prophecies and the gospels, through my story, and perhaps yours too. I was lured into believing that I knew what to expect when I was expecting.

The people of the houses of Israel and Judah are certain that the coming king will be a ruler, like the rulers of their day. Jeremiah TELLS them that the coming king will establish justice and righteousness in the land, and they just assume that this justice and righteousness will happen in the usual way – by killing off their enemies. They are lured into believing that they know what to expect when they are expecting.

The people who crowd around Jesus in the gospel of Luke, and later many Christians of our time are certain that the second coming of our king will be signaled by the sun, moon, and stars; distress among the nations; and the roaring of the sea and the waves. Jesus TELLS them and us that the Son of Man is coming on a cloud, and from then on our generation of followers has just assumed that this event can be quantified, predicted, screen lit, packaged, and sold. We, that is many Christians of our day and time, are lured into believing that we know what to expect when we are expecting.

The ultrasound tech told my husband and me that our baby was to be a boy. And because we already had one of those — a precious, curly-headed, spirited wonder –  we just assumed that the baby growing in my womb would be another precious, curly-headed, spirited wonder. We were lured into believing that we knew what to expect when we were expecting.

But the people of the houses of Israel and Judah did not get what they were expecting. Their king was a baby, and though he eventually did work for justice and righteousness, he didn’t follow the military model. Instead, he preached about forgiveness and nonviolence

The people who crowd around Jesus in Luke and even now don’t always get what we are expecting either. There are glimmers of the second coming all the time but the cataclysmic event that hits it big in the box office does not seem imminent, nor does longing for it heal the longing in our souls

And a test in the sixteenth week of my pregnancy revealed that my expectations were not accurate either. My little boy had an elevated risk for downs syndrome. Downs or no downs, he could still be a precious, curly-headed, spirited wonder, but I could no longer cling to the silly notion that my second son would be just like my first.

Twice, I endured procedures designed to tell me for sure whether or not my son had Downs. Twice these procedures failed. I was left with no choice but to move through the season in a sort of embodied uncertainty. I had no idea what to expect while I was expecting, and I realized then that nobody else REALLY does either.

Well, this was an entirely different kind of waiting than I had signed up for. The place in my heart that I was preparing for another precious, curly-headed, spirited wonder slowly died, and in its place grew a reluctant, and eventually exuberant openness to this baby, who would change my life forever. Advent comes each year with its traditions and stories, associations, and plans. We have learned to prepare our hearts for these things, so comforting with their certainty. But only the uncertainty, only the wild prospect of an unpredictable savior, only this different kind of reluctant and eventually exuberant waiting can really open us up to the fullness of new life that is promised. Sometimes our expectations keep us from the radically receptive kind of expecting to which we are called.

My son, [the bird], was born on January 17^th of this year, and he does not have Downs Syndrome. But in my opinion, the real victory in this story lies elsewhere. From the moment the doctor handed me my baby, fresh from the womb, I felt nothing but unconditional love. The question about Downs that had ruled so much of my pregnancy had no relevance at all in the face of this love, so powerful, this baby, so divine. Miraculously, I had made room for him, and all that he is, and all that he will become.

This is how my little [bird] taught me what Advent is all about before he was even 5 minutes old. It’s about opening our hearts to a God who is never limited by our expectations. It’s about embracing uncertainty. It’s about casting aside all of those things that have no relevance at all in the face of love and divinity. But most of all, it’s about making room for the baby, born in the city of David, and all that he is, and all that he will become.

AMEN.