Motherhood used to be anonymous. I daresay it was a mostly hidden journey. Obscure.

On one hand, my young kids could have really benefitted from a smarter-than-me device in my hand. Instead of answering their questions with my go-to, “Let’s ask dad when he gets home,” we could have just Googled. And Lord knows I needed the wisdom of mommy bloggers and Pinterest boards, I just didn’t know it. I could have really used a camera and camcorder in my pocket at all times. Yes, we used to call them camcorders. On the other hand, I was never distracted by the need to capture, crop, edit, filter, post, promote any moments of our unremarkable life.

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In 2019, my one word for the year was Redeem. Redeem as in: gain or regain possession of, to recover, reclaim, buy back, get back. 

I chose it after listening to a message at Hillsong NYC, where the phrase “the blessing of your year will be determined by the stewardship of your days” stuck with me. I walked away with a swell of anticipation and was tempted to choose the word “steward,” but the word “redeem” kept tossing around inside me and I wrote the word on a restaurant napkin a few hours later.

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A few months ago, I heard about the decision at Flatirons Community Church to place their lead Pastor, Jim Burgen, on a 6-month sabbatical. Having worked in church world my entire adult life, I feared the phrase “taking a break” was churchspeak for “the end” of his ministry at Flatirons. I had a sinking feeling he might not return and watched the sabbatical unfold from afar with great curiosity. I hoped for the best but feared for the worst. 

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As we arrived at the lunch destination, I quickly scanned an immediate Terminator-style inventory with my eyes, and asked, “Where’s Zach?” Without waiting for an answer from the rest of the adults, their faces told the story of their certainty that the child was with one of the other adults. 

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For the second time in 6 months, I am pouring over the words of a beloved parent’s eulogy. In both losses, my husband has been asked to read it while I serve as behind-the-scene editor. It’s a surreal honor to summarize a loved one’s life with the best shaped words you can find.

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Today is the day for new beginnings. For new steps. New Youversion reading plans. New journals. If you’re like me, you might even spend a few moments of the day with a new book and a bowl of posole. 

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It’s been years since I wore perfume. Decades, actually. I was never super heavy-handed with fragrance, but I wore my fair share of Love’s Baby Soft like every other young girl in the late 1970’s, even if it was “borrowed” from my older sister’s hidden stash. I memorized with razor sharp detail the arrangement of contents in her sacred blue Tupperware box before disturbing the treasures by gently removing the pink baby-powder scented bottle as I helped myself to a few sacred drops of the magic “big girl” elixir.

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May these students know the peace of being held by you, even when storms might rage around them. Give them wisdom to navigate the decisions ahead of them and that no matter what, let them know they are YOURS. Cause them to remember your goodness, and to sense you are WITH them and FOR them all the days of their lives.

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My grandparents died when I was 7 years old. They were the greatest spiritual influence of my life and I only enjoyed their flesh-and-blood earthly relationship during my first few (formative) years. I remember sitting with them in the sacred space of our small breakfast table with Bibles opened, over-medium eggs and New Mexico red chili, a folded tortilla on the side, and ribbons of steam ascending from their coffee mugs.

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I love the catastrophe that is my kitchen during the holiday season. My post-Christmas counters are packed with half-empty San Pellegrino bottles, Rubbermaid containers filled with breakfast cookies and dried out gingerbread houses stuck to cardboard foundations. My cabinets hold fresh containers of ginger, cream of tartar, nutmeg and sprinkles as evidence of a season most fully enjoyed.

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