Posted in Celebration, Faith

🎶All we are saying is…

Posted on by Esther Goetz

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

The mantra sung and chanted and begged for in 1969.

1969.

War rages and protests break out all over.
Charles Manson cult members murder 5 people.
Hurricane kills 248 people.
Chappaquiddick (look it up).
Police raid a gay club in New York City.  The Stonewall Riot ensues.

1969 sounds like a year I would want to AVOID with all my might.

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

What the messenger asked of a young, brown-skinned, oppressed, poor girl named Mary.

4 BCish.

Herod the Great kills his own family to hold onto his reign of brutality.
Taxation of the poor is almost 50-60%.
The main feature of life is gender separation except for sex.
Revolts and uprisings are commonplace.
Politics and religion intertwine and hatred for the “other” rules.

4 BCish sounds like a year I would want to AVOID with all my might.

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

What our collective, modern-day hearts continue to yearn and plead for.

2020

COVID threatens everything we have worked so hard for.
Politics and religion intertwine and hatred for the “other” rules.
Sex-trafficking is at an all-time high.
Natural disasters are some of the most destructive ever.
Racial tension sparks protests and riots and looting.

2020 is a year I want to AVOID with all my might (I bet you do too).

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

PEACE.

The idea that ALL IS WELL.

inside and outside
individually and collectively
mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally

for EVERYONE.

Not just for some.
Not just for the rich.
Not just for the healthy.
Not just for the insiders.
Not just for the free.

BUT for everyone.
The rich and the poor.
The healthy and the sick.
The insiders and the marginalized.
The free and the prisoner.

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

PEACE.

HOW?  HOW?  HOW?

Begged for in 1969.
Asked for in 4 BC (ish).
Yearned for STILL in 2020.

Something so elusive.  So difficult.  So needed.

HOW?  HOW?  HOW?

HOW DO WE MAKE PEACE?

[not how do we KEEP peace – the want to AVOID with all my might]

1969.
4 BCish.
2020.

We MAKE PEACE by embracing that “ALL are created equal.”  ALL.
Not just the ones who look, believe and act like us.

We MAKE PEACE by being willing to resolve turmoil.
Both what rages on the outside and on the inside of us.

We MAKE PEACE by standing up for it.  Saying “NO MORE!”
Both for others and ourselves.

We MAKE PEACE by fighting for it.
In our own hearts and homes first, but NOT stopping there.

We MAKE PEACE by making room (just like Mary in 4 BCish) for the Prince of Peace.

The One who embraces that ALL are created equal.
The One who resolves the turmoil that rages inside and out.
The One who stands up and says “NO MORE!”
The One who fights for our hearts and our homes, but does not stop there!

The One who shows up every moment of every day of every single year (even 2020)…and tenderly says…

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE.

**I lit the peace candle this morning for Advent week TWO**

Posted in Celebration, Faith, Grief

I Lit a Candle

Posted on by Esther Goetz

I lit a candle this morning.

For the first time.

Not just any candle.

The candle of “Hope” on this first day, this first Sunday of Advent.

It’s a new thing I’m doing this year, the year of all years.
 
The candle of Hope.

Hope.

A simple word.  But not a simple word.

A complex and intricate word.  A pregnant word.

Pregnant?

Yes, pregnant.  The “full of meaning” kind of pregnant.

I’ve been pregnant six times.  Two ended way too soon, loss and grief and confusion permeating my heart.  Four ended at just the right time, joy and life and expectation bursting onto the scene.

Pregnant.

This word.  Hope.  What I felt every single time those two lines appeared on my bathroom counter.

This word.  Hope.

Two times, it ended in a bloody mess.  A bloody mess that brought the end of possibility, the death of the little life that had stopped growing, and abject heartache.

In this particular season of Advent, in all things 2020, it sure seems like I’m sitting in the middle of a bloody mess on my bathroom floor crying.

All I did was open my newspaper this morning.

[One-third of small businesses closed.]

[Numbers in hospitals highest they’ve ever been.]

[Two teenagers dead after Black Friday mall shooting.]

That was just the front page.

In this particular season of Advent, in all things 2020, it’s really okay to be sitting in the middle of a bloody mess on my bathroom floor crying.

It’s why I lit a candle this morning.

NOT because there is nothing to grieve.

NOT because everything is as it should be.

BUT exactly because there is lots to grieve.

BUT exactly because everything is NOT as it should be.

This word.  Hope.  What I felt every single time those two lines appeared on my bathroom counter.

BUT this word.  Hope.

Four times, it also ended in a bloody mess.  But those times, the bloody mess brought the beginning of possibility, the birth of the little life that had grown just enough, and undeniable joy.

Mary.  My favorite pregnant woman.

Young, poor, single.  A nobody.

In a world where her headlines read just like mine.

In a world where there was a lot to grieve.

In a world where everything was NOT as it should be.

BUT in her womb, a baby grew.

Just enough.

AND yes, her pregnancy ended in a bloody mess.

But hope tells me what her Baby tells me as He bursts on the scene.

[I’m right here with you in the middle of your grief.]

[I will put things right and things will be as they should.]

[Take courage, my child.  Prepare your heart for Me.]

It’s why I lit a candle this morning.

HOPE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Faith, Family, Mental Health, Thanks

2020, Thanksgiving, AND

Posted on by Esther Goetz

BUT I SHOULD be thankful because…

I have technology to communicate with my family.

none of the people I love is sick right now.

my husband just got a job.

BUT I SHOULD be thankful.

BUT.

BUT.

BUT.

 

I’ve lived for a long time in the land of the BUT.

Hoping that happiness would spill out as I pondered all the “awesome” in my life.

Hoping that even though XYZ was hard, pointing out the good would quiet down the raw grief that kept welling up inside.

Hoping beyond hope that gratitude would spring up and overflow to all those around me.

 

Dirty little secret.   It didn’t work.

I just felt guilty, like an entitled little brat who didn’t get her way when her mom told her “no more cookies.”

I stuffed down my sadness in favor of all manner of positivity, only to find it leak out in ways like resentment and unkindness.

I brought this yuck into my marriage, my parenting and my friendships, only to perpetuate this vicious cycle.

 

One little word changed all of this.

The word I’ve come to desperately NEED and LOVE, especially in 2020, the year of all years.

The word that helps me to embrace all of my humanness and yours too, giving us opportunity for true and real connection.

The word that’s holding me this week as we head into Thanksgiving, giving space for gratitude in a whole new way.

 

This word:  AND.

AND.

AND.

AND.

 

It’s goes something like this.

 

I am very sad that I can’t eat turkey and watch football with some of my kids this week

AND I am thankful because…

they are able to see each other and I have technology to communicate with them.

 

I am anxious about this dang virus and all the numbers going up

AND I am thankful because…

none of the people I love is sick right now.

 

I am angry that local businesses are shutting their doors and the holidays are kind of being ruined

AND I am thankful because…

my husband just got a new job.

 

I am having a very hard time with all that’s been ravaged, lost, ripped away from the collective “us” this year

AND I am thankful because…

God is good and near and kind and with me in the middle of all of it.

 

So on this very 2020 Thanksgiving, my friend, let’s give ourselves permission to kick the land of the BUT to the curb and pitch our tent in the terra firma of the AND.

Posted in Anxiety, Faith, Grief, Mental Health

Jittery

Posted on by Esther Goetz

It’s a jittery kind of morning around here.

I strike up one of those “conversations” with God.

“Principal’s office” god begins his normal barrage.

[WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Can’t you get your act together? Enough with the anxiety already!]

That familiar UGH swoops in.

[This again? What is wrong with me!?!]

Newly-found voices of “up-in-arms” battle their way to the surface.

[That is NOT the voice of the real and true God. It’s those dang and destructive voices of discouragement and shame, enemies of my soul.]

I clear a just-enough space for a tender, gentle Voice.

[What’s wrong with you, my Sweet? What do you NEED?]

The ping-pongy chitchat heads into full swing.

***********************************************

[I NEED my son to keep his new job so he can pay his rent.]

[Actually, you probably NEED My wisdom to know how much to help or not help. You know, that whole boundaries thing you’ve been working on for (basically) ever.]

[I NEED this pandemic to be O-V-E-R! Like right now! It’s basically ruining ALL.THE.THINGS along with me always feeling like I’m playing Russian roulette.]

[Actually, you might just NEED a settledness of soul in the waiting, an abiding trust in Me. I really care about you and this and I know how it all feels.]

[I NEED my youngest to come home for the holidays.]

[Actually, you likely NEED to feel your sadness over missing her and confront your own loneliness without her. You NEED to grieve.]

[I NEED our financial situation to be secure.]

[Actually, you undoubtedly NEED to live in today and from a place of provision from my generous heart, instead of that never-ending, life-sucking place of scarcity.]

[GOD, HELP ME! I NEED TO BE OKAY ON THE OUTSIDE!]

[Actually, you NEED to be okay on the inside.]

This time around, I keep quiet and He keeps going.

[My daughter, it’s not going to be having all the OUTSIDE problems solved. More of them will creep up every day. What you “needed” a year ago is completely different than what you will “need” a year from now. It’s always changing.

What you REALLY NEED, however, is the SAME every moment, every day.

You need to trust, to settle, to BE in that “all shall be well” place INSIDE, the place where I dwell.

It’s safe.

Your jitters can rest.

You DO have EVERYTHING you really NEED.]

**********************************************

And my God will liberally supply (fill until full) your every need according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:19)

**********************************************

P.S. One thing I do desperately NEED this morning (and any of you who might grace my presence would heartily agree): I NEED A SHOWER! Warm soapy, water, here I come!

Posted in Family, Grief, motherhood, Thanks

TWINGE

Posted on by Esther Goetz

It hits you when you least expect it.

That TWINGE of mom grief.

The lump in your throat, tear in your eye, and melancholy in your mom heart.

It might be something as simple as…
watching your 10-year-old jump in a pile of leaves knowing this might be the last time she feels carefree enough to do so because she is heading into those self-conscious middle school years.

TWINGE.

Or…
your eighth grader asking to stand back-to-back with you so he can prove he has passed you up in the mom/son height race.

TWINGE.

Maybe even…
your newly-licensed driver waving goodbye to you as she backs down your driveway headed off for the very first time EVER alone in the family car.

TWINGE.

How about…
unthinkingly grabbing your son’s favorite cereal in the grocery store a week into his college freshman year? You slowly put it back on the shelf.

TWINGE.

It happened to me today. Again. A sign on the beach I frequent often, one I had never noticed before.

A simple board with words reminding me that I am here, standing 428 feet from the Atlantic Ocean and my 21-year-old is snug as a bug 30 minutes from the Pacific Ocean, almost 3,000 miles away.

3,000.

TWINGE.
TWINGE.
TWINGE.

I stopped.
I stared at the sign.
I sighed.
I teared up.
I wiped my eyes with my shirt.

TWINGE.

That ever-so familiar TWINGE that…

…sparks gratitude for this mom journey I love.

…moves me THROUGH the hard of missing all the good that once was

…takes me TO the good that still lies ahead, waiting for me to enjoy it.

It won’t be long until I feel that TWINGE again.
It will hit me when I least expect it.
But I secretly don’t mind it at all.

Posted in Childhood, Faith, Family, Mental Health, motherhood

613

Posted on by Esther Goetz

613. Number of ancient Jewish laws.

613. Almost the number of rules in our home when the kids were little.

61. Probably the number of different “Family Laws” based on said rules along with kids’ ages and stages.

All of this an effort to keep track of what really mattered and didn’t, what should be disciplined and what should be praised.

But mostly just a desperate attempt to manage the chaos that seemed to be a natural part of raising a family.

One not-so-glorious day, having reached the end of my mom rope, I screamed these words in exasperation:

“JUST TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND YOUR STUFF!!!”

“PUH-LEEZE!”

If the not-so-glorious scene had been made into a comic strip for the Sunday paper, a glowing “light bulb” would have hovered just over my red face and red head.

“AHA! MAGIC!!!”

Boxes in my brain were immediately checked for compliance:

  • Brush teeth (SELF)
  • Put gas in the car (STUFF)
  • Do NOT eat 17 cookies (SELF)
  • Do homework (STUFF)
  • No wet towels on the floor (STUFF)
  • Go to bed (SELF)
  • Get a job (BOTH). – YES. Get a job!

A new “Family Law” was imposed, one that didn’t take hours of preparation, spreadsheets and doctorates. The old charts were wadded up and saved as fire starters!

“AHH. RELIEF!”

“TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND YOUR STUFF!”

****************************

Everything in our OUTER lives is managed by this sweet, simple phrase, no matter how old we are, whether we are a male or female, who we live with, what dreams we have, or what our personalities are like.

(You could play a little game and see if you can find any that don’t if you really want to. Comment if you come up with one.)

It’s the same for me and for you, our child or our parents, our spouse or our friend, our pastor or our barista at the local coffee shop.

But what about our INNER lives? What about cooperation, kindness, generosity, respect, compassion, thankfulness, forgiveness, patience, etc., the deeper issues of the heart?

Do they land in those two columns of “self” and “stuff”?

The wisest human (not me) who ever lived emphatically says, “yes.”

In fact, he reminds us that “taking care of our self and our stuff” begins with our INNER life.

Cultivating the matters of our hearts is the best care we can take of our “selves.”

Tending to our souls is the best care we can take of our “stuff.”

His words, not mine:

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” (Proverbs 4:23)

P.S. I need a new toothbrush!

Posted in Faith

19 Weeks of Darkness

Posted on by Esther Goetz

19 weeks.

The time between our clocks “falling back” to “springing ahead.”

19 weeks.

DARKNESS comes earlier and there is almost a collective “OH NO” heard in the air.

19 weeks.

The apprehension of depression looms large in the hearts of those who struggle already and general melancholy arises in those who don’t.

19 weeks.

The warning of COVID numbers and “a whole lot of hurt” to come sends us wanting to pull the covers over our heads and make it stop.  STOP.  STOP.  STOP.  As if the winter DARKNESS is not bad enough.

19 weeks.

The election and the fall out either way.  Fear creeps into our minds and our stressed bodies are unable to hide it.

The “Holidays.”  Trepidation on how to navigate the risks and rewards of seeing family and friends makes this one of the most confusing seasons ever.

New Years.  No watching the ball drop with Times Square revelers and the dread that 2021 won’t be the end of all that 2020 has brought to us.

MLK Day.  The usual day of hope has an underpinning of tension as we understand that there is still SO much work to do.

Valentines Day.  We wonder.  Cute little candy hearts and cupids just don’t cut it anymore.  There’s real pain out there.  Real pain.

DARKNESS for sure.  And not just the literal kind.

19 weeks.

A womb of sorts.

A cocoon of sorts.

A tomb of sorts.

The unknown and all the possible things that could go wrong.  DARKNESS.

19 weeks.

But what happens IN the womb? The cocoon? The tomb?

Not after.  Not when it’s over.  Not when we see crocuses and robins and longer days.

But IN?  IN the DARKNESS?

There is CREATION in the womb.
Of a whole new life.

There is TRANSFORMATION in the cocoon.
Of a whole different being.

There is REDEMPTION in the tomb.
Of a whole only-God-can-do-this kind.

Gifts.  Beautiful gifts.

Gifts that could not come any other way.

19 weeks.

There will be DARKNESS for sure.

But there will also be HOPE.

Posted in Celebration, Childhood, Family, motherhood, Thanks

Y-E-S

Posted on by Esther Goetz

When your big kid texts, “Can I come home for the weekend?” you jump at the chance and say a resounding “Y-E-S.”

When your big kid pulls in the driveway, you run outside, wave frantically and give her a hug like you haven’t seen her in five years (even though it’s only been five weeks).
 
When your big kid dumps her stuff all over your kitchen counter, you hold your tongue and remember that it’s only for a couple of days, knowing secretly you miss the “mess.”
 
When your big kid asks, “Mom, do you have ___________,” you search your house until ___________ is found underneath the sink in the back corner.
 
When your big kid shows you the tomatoes and peppers she brought you from her garden, you say, “WOW! That’s amazing!” and you figure out how to use them over the next week so you can post a picture on social media and tag her.
 
When your big kid wants to take an online who-you-should-vote-for test, you spend five hours talking through all the issues, learning and listening to her perspective while speaking your own truth, both feeling more connected afterwards.
 
When your big kid rakes the leaves into a pile on your driveway, plops herself right in the middle, throwing them into the air because fall is her favorite season ever, you take a video and post it everywhere.
 
When your big kid holds her dad’s hand during your lazy, long leaf-peeping walk, you watch from behind and your heart almost bursts because you love her more today than you ever have.
 
When your big kid snuggles with you on the couch, watching football and eating popcorn, the official family snack, memories flood your mind of a little girl spinning in a circle humming while she eats the fluffy white goodness. A lump forms in your throat.
 
When your big kid gets ready to leave, you help pack her car, make sure she has air in that tire with the flashing light on, make a bag of goodies for her two-hour ride, and give her another hug like you won’t see her again for another five years (even though it will only be five weeks).
 
When your big kid pulls out of your driveway, you shout “I love you,” hands flailing in the air, as tears well in your eyes and you allow them to flow. Your heart is sad and thankful all at the same time.
 
When your big kid texts you, “I’m home,” you breathe a long, mom sigh of relief, anticipating the next time you will be given another chance to jump and say a resounding “Y-E-S!”
.
Posted in Faith, Thanks

Pattering

Posted on by Esther Goetz

It’s (almost) my favorite sound in the world.
It’s happening as I write this.
I could listen to it all day and all night.

The sound of RAIN pattering on the roof.

[I get all goosebumpy (is that even a word?) when I hear it.]

RAIN speaks to quenching.

A parched soil.
A parched soul.

[Calm washes through my body, my spirit responding in kind.]

RAIN speaks to cleansing.

A mucky house.
A mucky heart.

[I peek outside, and can almost see the trees drinking it in.]

RAIN speaks to refreshment.

A weary world.
A weary body.

[The idea of a nap in the middle of the day sounds just about right.]

RAIN speaks to redemption.

A hopeless day.
A hopeless mind.

[A smile creeps to my lips, a glimmer of hope rising within.]

Thank you, RAIN.

I need you today.

#nobadweather #pluviophile

Posted in Faith

E Pluribis Unum

Posted on by Esther Goetz

My Dear Fellow-Americans,

I know you are hurting because I am too. It’s all just NOT right. The people who are supposed to lead us towards “e pluribis unum” (out of many, ONE) have tried to divide us in two.

We are NOT two. We are MANY. But we are also ONE.

We prove it day after day, in the ordinary moments of our American lives.

We are ONE.

I’ve seen it play out in these past months like no other.

All different colors of fire fighters beating back the flames, not caring at all whether the people they are saving vote Red, Blue, Green or Purple or None of the Above.

All different ages of people wearing those inconvenient and uncomfortable masks just because we want to stop one person from dying.

All different walks of life figuring out ways to keep our businesses from crumbling by getting take-out, shopping local and hiring contractors.

All different creeds walking peacefully together to speak out for healing, justice, restoration and HOPE, saying “It’s enough. We want change and we want it for everyone!”

We are the PEOPLE of the United States of America.

We respect each other.
We cheer for each other.
We listen to each other.
We count on each other.
We need each other.
We help each other.
We learn from each other.
We love each other.

No one can stop us from doing that. NO ONE.

So, when someone tries to convince you that we are TWO, don’t listen. We are MANY. MANY colorful, diverse, caring, beautiful souls.

But we are also ONE. ONE in purpose. ONE in resolve. ONE in heart.

From my hopeful heart to yours,

E pluribis unum.