Belonging

//breakfast conversation with Seth (5)//

Seth: What day is it - am I going to school today?

Miska: Yes, it's Tuesday.

Seth (smile breaking across his face): Tuesday?! Today is sharing day!

Me: What are you supposed to bring to share?

Seth: Something that begins with the letter "D"

Me (grinning): Well...you could bring..."D"addy.

Seth: No, you wouldn't fit in my cubby.



Seth's right, you know. I wouldn't fit in his cubby.

However, there's lots of places I do fit, places that are my places. I fit at that breakfast table each morning, sharing the breakfast I've made for my family. I fit on our worn, brown leather couch with my wife Miska, sitting close so we are sure to touch. I fit drinking coffee with Seth and playing Uno with Wyatt. I fit walking up and down the streets in my neighborhood, waving to neighbors and finding myself in all kinds of conversations. I fit with my spiritual community, All Souls, praying prayers and asking questions and hearing stories and hoping in the gospel. I fit with a few soul friends who know the real me - and who keep coming back for more. I fit around our dinner table with our family and friends where there is laughter and wine and where we are all telling our "high/low."

For a guy who's spent much of his life feeling like the proverbial square peg, it's good to remember all the places where my heart is at home. In the years ahead, I'm looking forward to become more "me." And to resting more fully into all these places (and the ones I've yet to discover) where I belong.

forthesweetloveofgod

Miska's new blog design has gone live. Yes, I'm her biggest fan. Yes, I will chatter on about Miska a lot - and often mention her blog and her soul and her wisdom and her mad cooking skills (if you haven't had the infamous chocolate chip cookies or the banana blueberry muffins, you really need to drop by and ask for some) and her rich heart and her wild prayers and the plain ol' fact that God was most kind in giving me Miska as a soulmate.

I imagine God on Miska's and my wedding day, grinning at me and saying, "She's somethin', huh?"

Needless to say, I think Miska has important things to say, words we need to hear. And I think anyone who encounters her heart will be the better for it. Her blog posts have been spread too thin in recent months (I mean, it's not like we've had upheaval at the Collier house or anything), and I'm hoping that the coming of spring will signal fresh life stirring over in her corner of the blog world.

Morning Surprise

Two "doesn't get any better" moments in a row. Truly, it doesn't...

This morning, Seth said he wanted to run with me. He has the day off preschool, and so we had some daddy/Seth time planned. Most days, that means a trip to the coffee shop, Mudhouse usually (btw, Seth recently declared that he does not like Starbucks. He likes Mudhouse. Score one more for the local, independent against The Man*).

However, Seth surprised me with the announcement that he wanted to join me on my run. I'm no madcap runner, but my route is a little over two miles. And 50 yards is about the longest distance I've seen Seth run - I mean, he's 5. This is the kid, mind you, who simply can not stop thumping and jumping and bouncing and catapulting any waking hour - but as soon as we start a walk, it takes him the whole of 30 seconds to begin with: "Daddy, can you pleeeaaasssseee carry me on your shoulders? I'm soooooooo tired."

At first I resisted, thinking the whole escapade would be futile and I'd end up frustrated. But heck, he was so eager, who could resist. So we said we would run to Mudhouse (about halfway on my route), me fully expecting we would make it about a whole 2 blocks and then walk the rest.

Dangit if that kid didn't take it all the way, never letting up steam. Our pace wasn't blazing, but steady. About every fourth step, Seth would say, "Daddy, this is so much fun / Daddy, I love this / Daddy, I've never gotten to jog before / Daddy, can we do this to Mudhouse other days? / Daddy, why do you run like a gazelle?" (okay, I made that last one up)

It was a blast. Running with my 5 year old son at my side. It was a little interesting to have slug-bugging** interjected into my running routine, but hey, spice it up, I say.

Crazy thing is that once we landed at Mudhouse and finished the strawberry-banana smoothie we shared, he said he wanted to run the whole way back. And we did.

Seth's very first run: 2 miles. I'm impressed. And, mainly, filled with joy.


*Seth's vehemance against the so-called "Man" is selective. He is still quite willing to imbibe a java chip light frappuccino whenever another family member has one he can scarf.

**Slug-bugging, for those unitiated, is the constant, ongoing game of punching the nearest family member in the arm at the sight of any Volkswagon Bug and declaring, post-hit, "Slug Bug."

Bedtime Surprise

Wyatt, our first grader, has made the turn and dived headlong into reading. Most nights, we let him and Seth grab a book or two - and a flashlight - to take to bed. Tonight, I was pretty surprised when Wyatt pulled Holy Curiosity off the shelf. While walking back to his room, book in hand, Wyatt said, "Daddy, I like reading your books."

A few minutes ago, I overheard Wyatt reading the dedication, out loud: To Wyatt and Seth...I pray you always have the courage to ask true questions; and I pray your heart is bold and patient to listen for God’s reply.

Hearing my six-year-old son read those words ... it doesn't get any better.

Another Reason

Here is another reason why God has placed us in Charlottesville.

On Into Lent

We awakened to 3 or 4 inches of fresh powder this morning; and Wyatt and Seth got first tracks in the neighborhood with their sleds. Seth won the prize for best wipe-out (with a nice strawberry on the chin to serve as witness), but both of them had some pretty mammoth runs down the (very steep) hill. A superb morning.

Last Wednesday, we walked into Lent via a humble Ash Wednesday liturgy with All Souls. It was quiet and beautiful and rich. And yesterday, we entered the second week of Lent, as we move further into the rhythm, further into this time for stripping bare and re-centering, a time for awaiting the hope of Easter. Miska and I, as usual, picked what each other would surrender for Lent. Miska has forfeited chocolate, and I am to give up ... fear.

Steering clear of chocolate will be difficult for Miska, given her penchant for Starbucks no-fat, decaf mochas (her narcotic of choice) and the Maya truffles from our local chocalatier, Gearhart's. However, willpower and emptying the cupboards of offending items will see her through. That's her story, though, not mine. I'll leave it there.

Fear, however - now that's a tricky one. I can't exactly leave off fear by resisting to turn into Bucks' drive-thru. I haven't yet discovered a way to empty fear out of the pantry (though I'd love to try if you have any suggestions). I can't turn fear off at 8 p.m., like last year's discipline - no computer after 8. Miska picked exactly the right discipline for me, one that gets at the heart of my brokeness, one that touches my place of deepest need for Resurrection. But this I know: willpower alone will not get me through. I need Jesus.

So, as Lent began last week, I paid more attention to praying the hours. And, lo and behold, look what prayer greeted me as the prayer appointed for the week, the prayer I would find waiting for me each time I opened my prayer book:

Most loving Father, whose will it is for us to give thanks for all things, to fear nothing but the loss of you, and to cast all our care on you who cares for us: Preserve me from faithless fears and worldy anxieties, that no clouds of this mortal life may hide from me the light of that love which is immortal, and which you have manifested to us in your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Every time I prayed, the words were thrust in front of me: fear nothing but the loss of you ... cast all our cares ... Preserve me from faithless fears...

I get this sense that someone is talking to me, that Someone is coaxing me toward the light, toward Resurrection. We have miles to go, but we keep walking toward the light.

Lenten mercy to you...


p.s. Miska has posted one of my favorite Lent-appropriate observations from Kathleen Norris