the song of my people

how we create a strong mom culture

I hugged her, but she forgot her water bottle, so when she ran back to the house I got to hug her again. And then they drove off, Vin and Chamberlain and her little brothers, and when they came back without her, Finn seemed fine. But then he started crying out of nowhere.

“I should’ve! Had Cham!” – he paused to wipe his nose on his sleeve – “tell me a Batman story! Before she left!” he sobbed.

Oh Buddy. I feel ya, I thought. I should’ve had her make bread and clean the catbox.

Camp is hard for those who stay behind. I mean, let me tell you about it: We will be doing all her chores, cuddling her chickens, and entertaining both of her little brothers without her assistance all week. I’m not sure how that’s going to go, and I’m hoping it doesn’t involve too many videos. (I’m pretty sure the chickens don’t care for videos, but we might have to find out.)

Our oldest kids at home have already reached the stage where it seems like they’re gone more than they’re here. Iree is driving everywhere, Afton is riding his bike everywhere. We’ve been working through The Chronicles of Narnia this year and had to give up on the rule that says we all have to be here to read a chapter, because if that were the case we’d never read at all.

These days are so fast, and I hate writing that. We already know it and I hate the clichéd warnings.

But it’s not just that they’re growing fast; they’re going fast. I constantly feel behind. I am too slow, I missed the update, dropped the email, forgot to mark the calendar. And when was the last time I went through the kids’ closets and updated their clothes? Welllll...to give you an idea, I finally went through one of their closets last week, and found some size 8 pants that haven’t been worn since the year we moved to the Lighthouse.

And it’s not just our role as moms (or dads), right? We are also spouses, friends, ministry workers, business owners, employees, neighbors, and people who wait in line at the post office after locking their keys in the car.

We have gardens and laundry and car repairs and sleepless nights and short fuses. We have books that sit in stacks waiting to be read, recipes we want to try, and things we keep saying we’ll learn and do that keep getting pushed to next year’s list.

So the days go fast, and it’s no wonder we cannot keep up with everything we think we should be doing. That list is long and irrational, and some weeks I can barely catch the kombucha before it turns into vinegar.

I should do this. I should’ve done that. I should’ve known better. I should’ve planned differently.

And also, The kids should be quieter. They should pick up after themselves more. He should be getting better grades. She should be paying more attention.

Does that sound familiar? Should is the song of my people, and we sing it loudly, not caring how off key it is.

I think I should be doing all these things – achieving, remembering, earning, accomplishing. And when I don’t, it feels like every day, week, and month is a losing game.

The next verse comes in: I’m just not good enough. Smart enough. Focused enough. Favored enough. The lies seem familiar because they’re in our head and they sound like our own voice, but they’re the enemy overstepping, usurping, going too far, pushing the limits on how far he can fool us.

How long will you keep playing a losing game? he hisses.

It seems like a valid question because we’re exhausted. I lean over to pull the computer cord out from under the couch, and I look at the pile of throw pillows the boys tossed on the floor, and think, I am so tired. I could just lay down and fall asleep right there, in the middle of the day, in the middle of the floor.

We try and we stumble and it looks like things aren’t working out. We can’t see Him, we don’t know what’s going on. That illness is still lingering. That behavior is still cropping up. That check still isn’t showing up.

Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”

– John 20:1-2

This already wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out, and now it’s even worse. The game is over and we lost. We don’t know what’s happening. And we’re so tired, so sick of losing.

Don’t quit yet, the Spirit says. You’re not losing. Look closer.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb. And she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet.

They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”

She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

– John 20:11-13

Nothing is like we thought it would be. We don’t even understand the rules anymore.

And while it is still dark, He meets us:

Having said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”

Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

– John 20:14-15

How many times has He been this close to us, and we didn’t realize?

How close might we be right now to the answer we didn’t even know we could ask for?

Some of us are at this point, at the grief in the garden, and everything is dark. We’ve done everything we know to do.

But He’s about to open our eyes and call our name.

Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means Teacher).

– John 20:16

It’s not a game, Love, the Holy Spirit corrects. It’s all the roles you are fulfilling, pieces you are composing. It’s not about winning or losing; it’s about hearing the notes for the next few measures and learning to play them faithfully. You can’t find them while you’re listening to lies from the enemy.

If you are abiding and obeying, repenting and resting, it is enough. You are enough. What you are doing is, and was, and will be enough.

But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

– Matthew 6:33

For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”

– Isaiah 30:15

The Lord gave me this word a few days ago:

That breakthrough you’re working for seems so far away. It seems impossible. It seems like by the time you get there, it might be too late.

But it’s not, and it won’t be. You are not running out of time when you are waiting for God’s perfect timing.

And in His mercy, He often gives us no choice but to wait. He knows what’s good for us, and He knows we might sacrifice the good for the easy when we start to feel desperate.

So He gives us a million choices except this one — He doesn’t let us choose the timing. It’s almost like He can work with all kinds of our fumbling and learning and risking and trying again, and He’s not afraid of our failures because when they are rooted in obedience they are actually successes, even though it may not look that way to us in the moment.

He can work with all of our imperfect efforts, but He alone holds the timing for completion.

He’s not teasing us with riddles in order to achieve breakthrough.

He’s preparing us to steward the upgrade.

So the real question is, how long does it take for the turnaround? How long does it take before we learn the tricks, find our stride, and start winning?

Here’s the answer, and I’m sorry, because I don’t think you’ll like it any more than I do: As long as it takes.

What do moms (and dads) need in the meantime? Help. Rest. Wisdom, maturity, and self control. Hope. All the fruit of the Spirit.

But also, we need to hear Him. We need a strong work ethic. We need healthy habits, a hunger for knowledge, and humility. And also, holy stubbornness — the grit to stick with it while we wait for breakthrough.

We create a strong mom culture (and dad culture, and Kingdom culture) when we recognize and honor the invisible, exhausting work that we and others are doing without resenting those who cause so much of it. We see children as the mission, and contributing to the mission, not as interfering with the mission.

One of the things I miss most this week while Cham is at camp (besides the fresh bread she makes every few days) is that no one plays the piano while she’s gone. She’s had a love-hate relationship with it, and for months she struggled with practice, struggled with her songs, got frustrated too easily every time she fumbled the notes.

But then something clicked, and she started practicing more often. She tackled bigger pieces, and started playing a couple times a day, and suddenly our house filled with songs from Bach, Beethoven, and Einaudi.

It’s summer, and when she’s home and the windows are open, you can hear the reward of her perseverance, and the song of my people.

How triumphant is the fanfare of victory? We’ll find out on the other side of steadfastness – in abiding and obeying, in resting and repenting, in bringing the casserole, coffee, and flowers to the mom who’s at the end of her rope, and in prayer for each other that runs deep and wide.

Because that’s the real song of our people. It’s okay if it takes a while for us to learn how to play it.

Praying for you,

Shannon

P.S. Links for you!

• We’re starting a new book for Gaining Ground next week and if you’ve been here for long, you know it’s one of my favorites. Join us in the Telegram group as we discuss Wind in the Willows, and if you’d like to sharpen your writerly skills and cultivate your wholeness with some light-yoked, flexible, not-your-high-school assignments and private coaching, you can register for that here.

• Podcasts this month: You might need to slow down, If you feel like God isn’t doing enough, If you’re wounded, don’t wallow, When God calls you, no one can take your place, and What is the Church’s role after Roe v. Wade?

• New from Vince: Whatever happened after Westley rescued Buttercup? He’s written a fan fiction sequel called The Dread Pirate Roberts that will knock your socks off, and new segments are released every week.

• Ever heard of medical gaslighting? How does one’s willingness to learn new things impact their neurological stress (and their future)? What’s really going on inside the medical industry? This is a fascinating (and long) article that connects a lot of dots. Maybe grab a fresh cup of tea or coffee first, it’s worth it.

• I loved this video: 11 survival crops to grow. Super fun, well done. I’m gonna go find me some amaranth.

• I’ve been hearing more about this lately: The Hidden History of Polio, the Disease that Never Was, from Deep Roots at Home. From the article: “The CDC simply reclassified the disease and essentially made polio disappear. Now former polio-like disorders would be called Guillian-Barre Syndrome, AFP (acute flaccid paralysis), Bell’s Palsy, Cerebral Palsy, ALS, (Lou-Gehrig’s Disease), Multiple Sclerosis, etc.”

• Huge thanks to the reader who sent this to me: Evangelical Adoptions: Churches are AWOL in Helping Parents of Special Needs Kids. Dear Church, no jive — if you don't know about this, and you don't want to know about it, you are the reason this is a problem. Please (pleeeease) stand up for adoptive and foster families. Not everyone is called to adopt or foster. But we are all called to care for the orphan, and you need to know about this.

• So, how do we support these families? This is a terrific article on how churches can welcome adoptive families instead of pushing them away. And there is no middle ground — if churches aren’t intentionally supporting adoptive families in specific ways, they are pushing them away. Ask me how I know. :)