I didn’t feel inspired.
I felt like pulling out my toenails.
I read articles on repurposing old juice boxes, hiding veggies in desserts, and creating the perfect Easter egg; all the while, feeling like a complete failure as a mom.
Here are my confessions:
- Iâ€™ve never created a toy car wash out of old milk cartons and felt.
- I still bake old school chocolate chip cookies: butter, flour, and sugar. (If I’m truly confessing, I also buy the pull-apart dough.) And, Iâ€™ve never ever hidden chick peas inside cookie dough.
- My children donâ€™t decorate Easter eggs with dye made by mother nature herself– turmeric and cabbage. We use store-bought dye and cheap vinegar. Cheap, I tell you.
The magazine did inspire me to realize one thing:
When I evaluate myself as a mom, a friend, a wife, a neighbor, my first instinct is usually to ask myself a pretty rudimentary (and frankly, rude) question: Am I good or bad at this?
Could it be that fighting against shame also involves chasing beautiful questions?
|See what I mean? Ugs.
To the right of the path: desolate fields
In the middle: broken orange clay skeet-discs. (There’s a shooting range nearby, so the jogging path is littered with these. Not to mention the fact that I literally have run for my life, in case any shooters decide to get trigger-happy that day.)
I also began to wonder what it would look like to actively pursue beautiful questions.
When I begin to feel ashamed, what if I responded differently?
In the midst of a dead, dark, and difficult world, am I offering the people I loveâ€”my husband, my kids, my friends, my neighborsâ€”a clear path to the love of God? How can I do that today?
Rather than obsessing over the trendy Easter egg dye of the moment, what if I asked:
Am I evidencing the true Easter to those around me? Am I showing them the resurrection life; the presence and pleasure of Jesus?
I am currently obsessed with the spiritual memoir Surprised by Oxford by Carolyn Weber. (You must read it.) Weber, a professor of Romantic Literature, describes the intricacies of coming to faith while studying at Oxford.
Ruminating on the resurrection power of God, Weber describes His love like this:
“A love that turns back to a place of danger to retrieve its beloved. Love that illustrates itself in acts of words and trust. A love at work in the unseen. A love that weeps over us, releases us, raises us, removes our grave clothes, and tells us we are free to go. . . An upstart love. A radical love. An uncontainable, indefinable, incomprehensible love. A love that invites and defies and eternally transforms.”
Then she asks herself a more beautiful question: “Dare I believe this?”
Today, in response to love of God, I am going to ask more beautiful questions.
I praise Him for already providing the most beautiful answer, in the death and resurrection of Jesus.