Embracing A New Season

She isn’t at her post. An almost-fifth-grader is there instead – holding the familiar neon yellow flag while Madison chats carefree with friends.

SafetyPatrolRain

It’s odd. This other girl crossing kids at Madison’s post. Standing where SHE used to stand – for weeks on end. For a moment, my mind flashes to those rainy days in the neon poncho. In those moments it felt like safety patrol would drag on forever. Wipers swishing back and forth as I waited in the car for her to finish her post.

But, it didn’t actually drag on forever. Nothing ever does. And now, here we are. She has passed her post on to another. The baton has changed hands in the Holden relay. Because our girl is moving on to another leg of the race.

Six years I’ve been watching her walk that pavement and go through those doors.

In two days she’ll do it for the last time. My Mad will say goodbye to our beloved elementary school. We’re just moments away from having another middle schooler. She’s ready. It’s time. We all feel it and know that it’s a good thing.

Life seasons.

One comes to a close. Another begins. This is the rhythm of life as we know it. As far back as King Solomon… “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”

There is something both beautiful and achey about it all at the same time. My heart senses it and I try to embrace both the beauty and the ache. To let them both settle over me. I don’t want to chase either one away.

Until Wednesday when we “clap out” her class. And I cry. Then I’ll want to clobber the ache.

I’m just sayin.

Summertime Reading

If you’ve known me very long at all, you know I love reading. I’m a sucker for a good book. Fiction, non-fiction. It doesn’t matter. Just books. I’ll bring stacks of them home from the library. And my goodreads account has a pretty full “to-read” shelf.

Rick and I both read quite a bit. One of our favorite mantras is “readers are leaders.” Our poor kids. {wink}

But, honestly, it is something we’ve worked to pass on to our kids. We knew media would try to steal their minds away so we started to read to them when they were too tiny to understand us. And, we just never stopped. Especially in the summers. Summer just lends itself to the imagination, doesn’t it?!?!

Join me today over at The Better Mom where I offer some of our tips for summer reading success.

 

Grace and peace,

Shannon McKee

A Proper Easter Attire

Easter FlowersIn one week’s time my friends and I, we’ll be celebrating. Rejoicing over the single most profound event in all of history. Pondering the most baffling truth in all the world. As if taking on tiny baby flesh wasn’t enough… now the exalted King of all things has traded places with me and made it right again. He’s taken all the broken places and made them whole again. He has gathered up all the shards – the shattered relationships, the selfish acts, the greedy thoughts; He’s swept them up and fashioned them into something more beautiful than the original sculpture. All at His own expense.

How is this not the best news ever heard? How is it that most of us would rather talk about bunnies and pastel eggs and new bonnets? Can’t we just talk about something sweet? Maybe tulips or lilies? Anything to distract us from having to really focus on the shock of what Jesus has done.

Why? Why do we push it away? Why do we let other things overshadow this profound truth? Don’t we want the broken places fixed?

I think I finally understand it. I think we DO want them fixed. At least many of us do. We know something is wrong. We see the shattered mess of the world. And we really want it fixed.

We just want to do it ourselves.

And there’s the rub. Easter Sunday is only truly a celebration if we are convinced we’d be hopeless and desperate without it.

John Stott captured it well in this short piece entitled Naked Pride:

“As we stand before the cross, we begin to gain a clear view both of God and of ourselves, especially in relation to each other. Instead of inflicting upon us the judgment we deserved, God in Christ endured it in our place… This is the ‘scandal,’ the stumbling-block, of the cross. For our proud hearts rebel against it. We cannot bear to acknowledge either the seriousness of our sin and the guilt or our utter indebtedness to the cross. Surely, we say, there must be something we can do, or at least contribute, in order to make amends?”

Yes, isn’t there something? Maybe I can be a little nicer to my annoying neighbor. Or go to church a bit more. Oh, and, I’ll totally stop cussing when the kids are around. Yes, I can pull this thing together if I just work a little harder. Put my nose to the grindstone and all of that. Come to think of it, what’s the big deal about Easter anyway? Oh yes,  another religious holiday. Sure, I’ll go pay my dues. If God is lucky, I’ll even throw a little something in the plate as it goes by. Better yet, I’ll contribute to one of those clean water well projects in Africa. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. If we all just did something like that, this world would be a better place.

Ah… but Stott cuts across such platitudes, “The proud human heart is there revealed. We insist on paying for what we have done. We cannot stand the humiliation of acknowledging our bankruptcy and allowing somebody else to pay for us. The notion that this somebody should be God Himself is just too much to take. We would rather perish than repent, rather lose ourselves than humble ourselves…

“But we cannot escape the embarrassment of standing stark naked before God. It is no use our trying to cover up like Adam and Eve in the garden. Our attempts at self-justification are as ineffectual as their fig-leaves. We have to acknowledge our nakedness, see the Divine Substitute wearing our filthy rags instead of us, allow Him to clothe us with His own righteousness.”

And it is right there. In that naked place of realization. There that Easter Sunday becomes the grandest celebration. The best news we’ve ever heard.

May your preparation this week be blessed. Both as you ponder your own nakedness and as you embrace the beautiful garment offered to clothe you.

Grace and peace,

Shannon McKee

Keeping Quiet {Even When the List Screams Loud}

They’re all out the door now. The flurry of backpacks and lunches is past. I’m finally alone with my day. I’m weary. I can feel it. I can remember it from the way I treated the kids yesterday when they pushed my patience. Within a moment, the list begins to run frantic through my head. It’s calling to me screaming at me. Of all the things to be done.

Because my “command central” looks like this.

Monday's Mess

And my calendar still says this.

Wrong DayThe 7th was like five days ago.

Because my parents were in town for a whole week. And Caleb needed all his gear because he starts Lacrosse practices in earnest this week. And the first phase of Madison’s electric project was due today. And Grammy turned 90 this weekend. And I’m prepping to speak at a women’s retreat this weekend for a church in Michigan. And our own church is growing like crazy – 40% or something nutso like that. And blog posts have deadlines – especially the work ones. And the kids don’t turn their socks right-side out when they put them down the chute so I sometimes have to wash them twice. And my inbox had 147 messages in it. (How is that even possible?) And the raisin canister for Rick’s oatmeal is empty, as are some of the shelves in the frig. And I think the kids had cheese for dinner last night. Just cheese. (Did Rick and I eat anything last night?) And I was last-minute on the form for Caleb’s mission project. And the office clean-up project I started on last weekend is still half-finished, mocking me every time I go to the basement. And that dumb dog won’t obey me like she obeys Rick. And, by the way, didn’t I just vacuum those floors? And, and, and.

All these things screaming for my attention. These are my realities. I can’t just ignore them. I don’t want to ignore them. Because I like having parents and a Grammy and kids who are active and smart. I like blogging and caring for our home. I like that our church is growing and I can’t wait to speak at Saralynn’s church from one of my favorite books, Colossians. I even like that dumb dog. (But don’t tell her… or Rick.) I do not like my email inbox though. Just for the record.

QuietI guess in some ways, I like the list. Except when it screams. But, now I’m here, on the cusp of my day, standing in the quiet after everyone has gone for the day. And I see it there. The candle I lit to soften the morning as the kids got going. Burning so sweet and soft and steady there. Suddenly it seems foolish to let the list scream at me like that. To let it interrupt the quiet. And now I know that I’m not talking about the quiet in the house… but the quiet that should be in my soul.

Because I have a set the Lord before me. “I have set the LORD always before me… therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices…” Remember that, Shan? The LORD. Not the list. I won’t set the list before me. Just the LORD. The One who gives meaning to lists.

Because let’s face it, no matter how well I do at tackling the list, it won’t make my whole being rejoice. Oh, I might feel good about it for a second – if I can even begin to catch up and do it well. But, it won’t fill me up. Or make my heart glad. Not really. And it’s just a gross lie to think that it will.

We’re in a pretty busy season as a family right now. And that means I need to live well. With my list. But, really, what’s the point if my Savior isn’t my motivation? In one thousand years when I’m before Him, the list will be a distant memory. In the meantime, I live with list. I go after the list. Because these are my realities and people are counting on me for things like cheese. And raisins. {wink} But I won’t let it steal my gaze. No. Not this day. “I have set the LORD always before me… therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices.” Amen.

Quiet

Will you join me in the quiet, restful place of joy?

I hope so,
Shannon McKee

In Which I Share a Few Juicy Tidbits from My Own Mothering Journey

It’s no secret that I think our church is the greatest. Really. It’s such a neat group of people. Sometimes I look around on Sunday morning in awe because of the humility, earnestness, generosity and sacrifice that these people employ as they love the Lord and care for the people around them. We are a family. No “family” is perfect but I can’t believe we get to be part of such a great one.

One of the things we enjoy is how many young families we have in our midst. Rick keeps checking to make sure they all know how babies are made… because we sure do have a lot of them and they just keep coming!!  As I serve in the nursery and teach at our women’s Bible studies, I get to have conversations with many of these sweet mamas. My heart for these young moms just grows and grows. I remember those years. I know that some days feel long when tiny ones are under foot. I recall the discouragement that can set in and steal the joy of those precious moments.

I’ll just tell you that I think we women need to do a better job of going to bat for each other. No mom should feel alone in it. We need each other. So, today, I’m over at The Better Mom sharing a reminder. For all of us. Come join me, won’t you?

Well, I Was Gone But Now I’m Back

Miss me? I’ve been taking a much-needed online fast (of sorts) these last few weeks. I was noticing an unhealthy trend in my life with social media and online puttering. So, I’m intentionally online a lot less this month. Though, I’ll admit that it’s hard to be completely offline when you’re an Online Publicist and blogger by trade!

But, today I’m back! I’ve got a new post up over at The Better Mom. I’m sharing some thoughts about motherhood and how it can be pretty tiring at times. Come join me and see if your heart resonates with some of my thoughts…

All’s grace,

November’s Gratitude {And Why I’m Not Decorating for Christmas Yet}

Today is the first day of November. I have taken to calling it the forgotten month. The one stuck in between Halloween and Christmas. Our hunger for the festivities of Christmas has nearly eclipsed it all together.

I find myself fighting hard against this tide. Refusing to turn on the Christmas music or drag out the bins full of Christmas beauties. My soul bristling against the store aisles that already stock ornaments and baubles.

Don’t hate me. I know some of you are hating me. Because I’ve seen your Facebook posts. {wink} Maybe you think it’s sort of Grinch-like of me to refuse to start humming to Bing Crosby. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas. I do. I love Christmas. And, not just because it feels like a magical time full of traditions and precious family memories. But, more importantly, I love it because it’s the celebration of the greatest gift ever. I’m undone when I ponder the miracle of it.

So, yes, I do love Christmas. Just not the way we have forced it into November.

My dilemma…

I’m not exactly sure why it bothers me so much really. I guess there’s nothing inherently wrong about watching It’s a Wonderful Life in November. I mean, who decided that Christmas decorations can’t come out until the weekend after Thanksgiving anyway?

I think I just want some time to pause. A time to focus on thanks. During that scrap of time that comes after the last of the candy corn is gone, but before the headlong rush into the busyness and the spending that comes with Christmas celebrations.

I sometimes wonder if  we just don’t quite know what to do with ourselves during November. To be still and give thanks? Pfft. We’re much more comfortable behind a Spidey mask and passing out candy or carving pumpkins with the fam. Or, better yet, let’s get to stringing popcorn and wrapping presents.

But, to be still and choose gratitude? Yikes. Thanks means dependence – on someone bigger than us. Gratitude implies grace. And that whole thing makes us squirm a little bit.

For me, November is the pause in the middle of the all the hub-bub. Because, let’s face it, in America our celebrations are an awful lot of hub-bub. Even when we try to keep them simple and focused.

I’m realizing that I need November’s pause – to refocus my heart.

Here’s what I’m doing about it…

Thanksgiving is on the 22nd this year. That gives me 22 days to just “be”. To receive bounty from God and remind myself that He is the Giver. To catch final snippets of time to be outside before the snows come and we huddle indoors. To light candles and smell harvest scents. To make Butternut Squash Soup with the last of the garden goodness. To enjoy the final turning of the leaves that have hung on thus far. To read once again about the sacrifices that brought the pilgrims to free shores. To remember how God has taken the hard places of our life and made them beautiful. To whisper thanks over the kids as they sleep at night and even thanks over the 3 we never knew. To remember that even His taking away is somehow a giving. To linger a second longer and notice the way the raindrops cling to the banister. To jot notes to friends who make my life richer. To count them out. Blessing upon blessing. Gifts overflowing.

“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies,  those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.” -John Milton

So, please forgive me if I’m not ready to get into the Christmas spirit. To be honest, I feel strongly about this November thing; but I really won’t judge if you’d rather start pulling out the Christmas goodies. As for me, I’m staking off these 22 days for gratitude. I have to. My soul aches for it. (And, ironically, it actually makes me more prepared for Christmas.)

Join me? If you come back tomorrow, I’ll have a few tips and traditions to help you count the gifts and offer thanks.

 

The In-Between: Navigating the Middle School Years

He’s growing up. I watch him from the window there. Playing football in the yard with a buddy. He doesn’t know I’m there so I linger for a while. I can’t get over how he is growing and changing. These middle school years are a mystery to me – I don’t know how any of us survived them.


To be honest, our whole family feels the weight of it with him. On the one hand I still see a child; on the other I see a man in the making. These are the in-between years. The picture that Rick has crafted and often comes to mind for me is a young knight in training – his arsenal in the making but him still clumsy with the various weapons. So, here he is stumbling around our backyard with a sword that is hard to wield because it’s still too big for him. Of course, in our case the weapons he hones are not swords, but issues of faith, character and gifting. These are the munitions he will take with him out into the world.

I see him growing stronger and more capable with each passing week. But, I can see so tangibly that he is pulled between two phases.

The cords to his childhood are fraying a bit but they hang on. Legos still call to him from the basement. His allowance still burns a hole in his pocket until he blows it on candy. The fun-factor often trumps just about everything else when it comes to making a decision. His go-to joke still involves bodily functions.

Meanwhile I see the ties to a future man becoming stronger. For example, at some point, his prayer life shifted a bit and his primary request from God is no longer just that “we’d have fun today.” Instead, he prays that he’d honor God today, no matter what. Or there was the other day when we were watching a NFL game and I asked him about the pink socks/gloves that many of the players are wearing. “Well, it’s supposed to be about breast cancer, Mom. But I think for a lot of these guys, it’s really about them. Drawing attention to themselves because it’s the cool thing to do now. I wonder how many of them really care about cancer.” It was such clear insight into the human nature that it sort of stunned me, actually. Then there is the lawn job that he held down all summer and his voluntary decision to give MORE than 10 percent of his earnings to God’s work in this world. (FYI: We use 10 percent as a standard baseline for giving and saving. So that’s what we require the kids to do right now.)

It’s a tenuous time – this pull between two phases. For him and for us!! Because he’s so mature at times, his still-youthful immaturity surprises and frustrates me. And his intensity multiplies all of it – the good and the not-so-good. His intensity has always multiplied everything – since he was a babe taking his first steps at nine-months-old. He has kept me on my toes ever since.

But, as I stood there at the window, I realized that, by God’s grace, I truly like what I see unfolding. I like who he is right now and I’m really excited about the man I see in the making. And, you know what? That’s a pretty good reason to linger at the window a little longer.

To whisper thanks and to ask for more grace.

A Season for Dying {Lessons from The Black-Eyed Susan}

The Black-Eyed Susans are dying. They’ve spent themselves.

Now they prepare for a new season. They’ll lie still and quiet under the heavy blanket of snow this winter. But they’ll be back next Spring, inching back out of the ground when it’s safe – in greater number and strength they’ll come.

Come summer they’re sure to burst forth again, filling the long side of our house with life. This is the way of things. Sure as sure.

I always take a picture of them in their glory. Right about July. They make me smile there – tall and proud with their deep yellow petals and their big black center.

This year, though, I missed my July photo. We were so busy that I barely stopped to notice them there.

Ironically, I was struck instead by their beauty in a different season. This one. Right now, as they lay dying. I didn’t notice it before but there is another kind of beauty in them at this stage. It’s a stark kind of beauty. One that comes after the glory.

Because they have spent themselves for something wonderful.

They are depleted and exhausted by their summer effort. Their proud stems are bending over and most of their petals have dropped. A few hang on… reminders of the glory.

There is something beautiful about that dying. Something that stirs in my soul as I contemplate the shriveled leaves and the scattered petals.

So strong is our longing for the glory, that sometimes I think we miss the beauty of this. Jesus didn’t. He knew that the dying had its own kind of splendor. In speaking of His own pending death He said this: “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”

We’re not so sure about this. In his short piece on repentance, William Willimon said it this way: “Whatever the Gospel means, we tell ourselves, it could not mean death. Love, divine or human, could never exact something so costly.”

Could it really mean that Jesus bids me come and die? And that there is really some beauty in that? A glory of its own?

In the agony of having my petals stripped clean by a rebellious child or a selfish friend, there is beauty? When I pour myself out for my kids and I have nothing left but shriveled leaves and a blackened nub? When I am bent low by the harsh winds of this world and insensitive demands of others? When no one even notices me? Beauty? There?

Jesus says there is. Will we believe Him? Will we come and die,  laying our own desires aside? Spending our days serving others? Giving instead of buying? Going instead of relaxing? Sacrificing instead of indulging? Submitting instead of demanding?

And after we have been spent, what then? Will we yield to Winter and wait for Spring to call forth new life from the very ground where the spent petals lay?

Nature echoes it. The Black-Eyed Susans attest to this truth. Spend yourself and see, they say.

Will you?

Staying Involved at School

I’ve been a public school mommy for seven years now. When Rick & I first made our decision to go this route and educate our kids in the public schools, we knew we’d want to be involved in their education every step along the way. As far as we were concerned, the education of our kids started and stopped with us. But, overseeing their education when they’re away from you for six hours a day is easier said than done. It takes perspective, time, and energy.

mommy blogs Come with me over to The Better Mom where I’m taking part in a back-to-school series. You’ll find me sharing a little bit more about our perspective on schooling and some practical examples of ways to get directly involved in your child’s education…

 

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