Of course you are tired. Keep going.

We are in the midst of track season with Kate. She primarily is a distance runner, but sometimes participates in the 4x800 relay.

No matter how many races I have seen, the relay gets me every time. Runners push their bodies to the limits as they carry the baton for their leg, individually contributing their best to the team score, and then the focus shifts to the runner awaiting the handoff. There is anticipation, positioning, and movement. Sometimes it appears seamless, other times awkward, as the two runners try to match their speeds for a brief moment of connection. 

It takes true technique to secure a smooth handoff and despite all the practice, there is the occasional slip or miss that produces a loud clanging, a sympathetic crowd reaction, and a shift in the anticipated outcome of the race. 

I was thinking about all of this today because I have spoken to six different parents in 24 hours who are in the thick of teen parenting. We all feel this same sense of anticipation, excitement, and exhaustion as we try to finish this portion of our race well and hand off the baton of daily responsibility for these almost-adult lives. 

What I didn't understand until I experienced this phase is that there is not a single moment of release. Instead, we are performing this hand-off over and over again as we are passing our teens the responsibility for their academics, social lives, finances, health, and all other manner of choices. Sometimes we are more in sync than others. And THIS is the part of teen parenting that is exhausting.

I heard a seasoned Mom recently say, "I am really not worried about the outcome. I truly trust God with that. I just want to know I did my part well." Isn't that the cry of a faithful heart? 

So how do we do this part well? I think the attitudes of our hearts are a huge part. Much of the rest, ironically, came from one of the many online lists I saw of proper baton handoff techniques. I couldn't help but giggle when I read these seven steps in a ten-step list.

• One carries the baton.
• Adjustments are made as they approach the handoff.
• The runners share the baton.
• Communication is vital.
• Release when the baton is firmly in the next runner's hand.
• Do not slow down until the baton is passed. 

And the last one made me laugh out loud...

• Stay in your lane.

As always, so much easier to pontificate than to practice, but I couldn't help but share this metaphor God used to speak to my heart.

My runner taught me another important lesson recently. When I asked her how she ran so many miles without pain she replied, "I don't. After 2-3 miles my body starts to hurt a little but I tell myself 'of course you hurt, you've run a long way,' and then I keep running." 

That, my friends, will preach. 

"Let us run with patience the race marked out before us." -Hebrews 12:1b

From a Mama in the Stands

Last night our high school’s football team won a thrilling game in the state playoffs. As I was looking through my photos this morning, this one struck me: Our kicker standing alone on the sidelines with the field goal in the background. The score was 7-6. Our team was one point behind after our son’s point-after attempt bounced off the upright.

I took this picture as my Mama heart was in the stands watching, praying, and hoping. This is so often the role of a parent of an emerging adult--the hearts we have shepherded for so many years are now increasingly out of our reach in key moments as we are relegated to the audience, crowd, sideline, or stands.

It occurred to me last night that even if I had known the perfect encouraging words to say, I had no way to get them in my son’s ear. I was watching and hoping that the voices he COULD hear--coaches, teammates, and his own inner voice would suffice. The momentary feelings were strong and real, but there was a lot of game left to play. (Isn’t that a life metaphor that will preach?)

This moment of pulling away passed quickly. He told me later he just needed time to clear his head. I watched as he “reset” and coaches and teammates wandered over with supportive handshakes. He moved back into the pack and the team pulled through with strong play by so many kids. Our fella even had two more successful scoring attempts.

Ryland has had a terrific kicking season, and yet, there have been misses. As a kicker’s parent I have been reminded that life is quite the roller coaster if we allow the transitory drama of day-to-day circumstances to become our score of life.

Next week we will play another round and I will rejoice at the opportunity my young man is having to try, fail, succeed, learn, and grow. I will continue to pray for the voices speaking into his heart--especially in the times when mine is relegated to just one more of the crowd.

Homecoming 2021

Twenty years ago this February before I had learned the concept of mindfulness, my friend Liz cornered me in my Bridal dressing room. She put an Altoid in my mouth, straightened up a few errant parts of my ensemble, and said something to the effect of "This is going to be a whirlwind. You have to intentionally take moments to just look around and take pictures with your heart. You will be glad you did."  

That advice has carried me through not only a wedding day but decades of life since then. It is a sermon I keep preaching to myself--especially as my children age and I know this chapter is coming to a close. I feel this practice is largely why I started blogging/Instagramming. 

Pause. Notice. Savor. Seal the moment. Sometimes with an actual photo, but at the very least in my heart.

This weekend was FULL of those snapshots. 

Friday night's football game felt like a scene from a movie. The weather was perfectly comfortable Fall crisp. It was our first home game in a month. Covid has relinquished its grip on our region to the point that things felt like old normal again. There were familiar faces, family, and friends that have become family. As I looked around I felt so tenderly grateful for the life God has built for us here (as transplants) and the dozens of people we have literally raised our children alongside. 

My senses were heightened to the sounds, smells, and sights. The game was action-packed and came down to the last minute. The student section was lively and involved like a professional soccer game. I knew that I would relive the night in my heart for years to come. 

Our kicker performed with poise. Our mascot was full of energy and patience for the throngs of little people following him around. Our girl was gracious and beautiful as she served on Homecoming Court.  

I was keyed up until early morning, full of the joyful emotion of being parents to Upper Classmen--and fun of these days. It was a nice change from where I sometimes get stuck in the anxiety, pressure, and ticking clock until launch.

After a few hours of sleep, Saturday was an absolute zoo! Our teens had duties at school with a 5k race, giving Alumni tours, and rehearsal for a play that opens this weekend. Meanwhile, Ryland & I were setting up to host a dinner for 17 kids with other parents and an afterparty at a separate location in addition to hair, make-up, flowers, etc for our three and their dates. In the midst of all the frenzy, as I was miles from my home rushing to pick something up, I found a cat asleep in my back seat. (He had climbed in while I was loading party supplies in my driveway!)

Despite the last-minute stress of wearing contacts, hand-tying bowties, and accidental sportcoat swaps, we all made it out the door on time. 

The kids' sweet dates were each just right--and there was no drama and lots of fun and laughter. 

Of course, the combination of milestone events and hormones led me to some deep thinking alone in my car as I buzzed around Saturday afternoon. 

What was the point of all this hoopla? Were we overdoing it? Perhaps. But these once-a-year events are important tools for teaching the finer points of social graces--formal dates, dressing up, nice dinners.  (Especially after the last 19 months of Covid!) 

After so many years of teaching them independence, it is fun to find things our teenagers could do themselves, but we choose to do for them simply because we won't be able to much longer. The preparations felt like a "get to" not a "have to." It was fun to be involved. 

I hope the home-making before the home-leaving will make the future home-comings so sweet-- returning to the place of such great memories and love. 

May 2020: 16 Year old Milestones

Kate, Ryland & Parker:

I am writing this to you, lest we forget what a historic month May 2020 turned out to be--for you personally and in our nation.

At the first of the month, pandemic restrictions were lifted in Georgia and we took a 36 hour trip to the beach. It turns out sand in our toes was grounding. The sun on our skin was therapeutic. A change of scenery was a glorious gift to our mental health.

We returned home for a final week of online school. Ninth grade is officially complete!

A week later you all became gainfully employed with your first jobs--K & R lifeguarding and P at a favorite local deli. You filled out your first tax forms and rose to the occasion of adult activities like drug screens, orientations, and negotiating work schedules.

On the 26th we celebrated your 16th birthday in a back-to-basics driveby/stop by front yard gathering with friends. Watching all of you interact was a reminder of how important social interaction is--never forget the gift of community and friendship!

Kate and Ryland each passed their driver's test--another non-traditional affair as Covid regulations prohibited the examiner from riding in the car. Instead, she watched with her clipboard as your Dad and I rode in silence (under threat of penalty) if we spoke. This proved harder for one of us than the other. ;-)

Parker, you wisely chose to let the first wave of new drivers pass as you take your time with your training and grow in your confidence. Having your own fleet of chauffeurs seems to be just fine by you! You also colored your hair in an evolving attempt to find your style. Your unapologetic individuality is a joy to behold.

I didn't mention the first date and new crush that emerged from this month for two of you...and what an absolute handful our pandemic pup has been. Suffice it to say, there are a lot of milestones to note in this house!

It is now the first week of June and even without camp, this Summer is proving to be one of tremendous growth. Physically,  all three of you are over 5 feet. (5 ft K, 5'4" P, and 5'9" R) Spiritually, you each are investing in your personal relationships with the Lord and your church family. Civically, you are learning how to work hard and contribute at home and in the world.

The racial unrest in our country has led to deep and important conversations about the multi-layered complexities of race in this country and how we can serve as allies. There are no easy answers--but I am so proud of your willingness to consider the questions.

We have spoken of the importance of lament, leadership, compassion, and authentic love of neighbor.

And that was May.

This has been a month I've wondered about since I knew I was carrying triplets--three 16 years olds!! But I can honestly say, as with most things, the anticipation was far more emotional than the actual season. Perhaps it is because there have been SO MANY firsts, I haven't been riding the waves.  Instead, I feel buoyant with hope and joy.

While I know the Covid crisis has been devastating for countless people, the time at home before you emerged into the world this Summer was truly formative.

I know this is just the beginning of all that comes with budding independence and adolescence, but I am truly more joyful than sad and clinging to the hope of Phillippians1:6 "He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it..."

"So, be truly glad, there is wonderful joy ahead..." I Peter1:6

Week Five: A New Normal

We are entering our fifth week of social distancing. 

For posterity's sake, here's glimpse into daily life. I try to make just one trip to the grocery store each week for produce, milk, and other essentials. People are now encouraged to wear masks and stay six feet apart. The stores are strangely quiet and I have realized it is the absence of children and social chatter. I have tried a couple of different grocery delivery options, but prefer to make my own trips. 

But for driving me on these essential errands (where they stay in the car) or trips to our farm property 8 miles across town, our kids do not leave home. 

Ryland is still working, although most surgery is still on hold to save PPE (personal protective equipment) in the event of a surge in the virus. His office has most of their staff only working 3 days a week now and financially everyone is hurting. For my husband, a helper, leader, and problem solver being sidelined during a medical crisis is a frustrating experience. Surgery is not the cure for a virus, and so he is doing all he can, spending hours daily catching up on the ever-changing research. At this point, we do not see an immediate way forward and so settling into a new normal is the order of the day.

Yesterday was Easter and the end of what would have been Masters week. Instead of Augusta National's beauty and visits from out of town family, we watched church from our sofa, had a take out feast here at home and enjoyed a Zoom call with family from Atlanta, Maine, and Denver.  There was terrible weather in our region throughout much of the night, so we spent hours in the cellar during tornado watches and warnings. 

Life these days is a bit surreal.

We are keeping a record of Covid losses and gains. As the days have turned to weeks, the list of cancelations has grown to include the following: 

- Neighbor's wedding in New Orleans
- Young Life camp for the boys
- Kate's braces off
- Masters Golf Tournament
- Soccer, lacrosse, and track seasons
- Study abroad in Spain for Kate
- Driver's license exams for the kids (already canceled even though birthday is weeks away)
- Big Sweet 16 bash we'd been planning since February. 


We are waiting with bated breath to hear the official word on Summer camps. Kate is a club leader and truly relishes this two-week experience each year. This was to be Ryland's age-out year and his last chance to be tapped for Palladin. (A big accomplishment that he hoped to follow his Dad's footsteps in achieving.)

This is to say nothing of all the daily life losses like time with friends, small groups, our former foster child, and the grandparents. There were also many boarding students at our school who never returned from Spring Break and my children are disappointed there was not a proper goodbye.  

These are small in comparison to loss of life, homes, businesses--but we mourn them in our own ways. All were extras, not critical to our survival, so rather than deep grief, we are experiencing a quiet reorienting of what we thought our privileged first-world Spring was going to be.

In happy news, we adopted a puppy. We've learned new games, made new memories, and enjoyed time together that we would have never had in the hurried pace of a typical high school Spring. 

The children are beginning their fourth week of online learning and it is going fairly well. I am trying to take my own parenting advice and let them own their academic life, but this is new to all of us and having a child with ADHD and other executive function challenges is causing me some confusion as to how much to enter in versus letting them learn to self regulate. There is no handbook for adolescent crisis learning during a pandemic!

While we are on the subject of parenting during a pandemic, I am realizing that allowing my teens room to grow while we are stuck in the same house all day every day is extremely challenging. When they are at traditional school I can let go with an "out of sight- out of mind mentality." I trust the adults there. I know the process is essential to their healthy development--and not having to witness it all relieves me of my overwhelming feelings of responsibility. At home, the gap between what I want to do (back off) and how I feel (responsible) is a true source of stress. Managing this gap is exposing some control issues in me. 

I know how important it is to be consistent and I find I am quite the opposite. I try to give everyone space to do the right thing in terms of chores, screen time, academic work, etc...but after a few hours of ignoring, I frequently swoop in and have a mini freak-out from all my stuffed feelings of anxiety. I fear I am not being a good Mom and they are regressing instead of progressing. I really hate this cycle of loose-controlling-loose. I am hopeful that we can settle into a space that is healthy for all of us.  

It is ironic that I trust the Lord with their spiritual development, but feel a LOT of pressure for their social and academic progress. Awareness and admission are good first steps, but I am ready to move forward. 

Truly, the inability to move forward is perhaps one of the most discouraging and frustrating aspects of this pandemic period. What is the way forward--economically, financially, socially, professionally, academically? Who will define it? 

I trust the Lord for the long-term big picture, but the daily challenges necessary to get there are a struggle for me. This is where the rubber meets the road of daily devotion to the Lord and my inadequacies are being exposed.  


I wrote this on Instagram last week, but it bears repeating here. The frustration with the unknown timeline has led me to ponder why it seems to matter to me so much. In addition to planning and control issues, I think it also has a great deal to do with a desire to pace myself and my family. I am reminded that we are exhorted in Galatians 5:25 to "keep in step with the Spirit." The Lord of the Universe is to be the pacesetter. We cannot allow ourselves to fall too far behind or rush ahead. So, I am renewing my desire to stick with Him as the refinement and sanctification continues. 

Onward, into week five. 

And Then They Were Freshmen

This morning my trio started their first day of high school. They set their own alarms, chose their own dress down day clothing, packed their own bags, and one of them even drove us to school. (It was her week in our rotation.)

I feel like I should have something poignant and emotional to say about this milestone, but the truth is I have peace. They are ready. My husband and I are excited for them.

There is certainly much to learn and experience in the years ahead. 
Mistakes to be made. 
Tears to be shed. 
Apologies to offer and seek.
Victories to be celebrated. 
Losses to mourn. 
Accomplishments to be achieved. 
Gifts to discover. 
Friendships to be built. 
Laughter to be had. 
Love to give and receive.  
Memories to be made. 

I loved my own high school experience and hope my people can look back upon theirs with fondness. But it is theirs, not mine...so I plan to find my place in this new world. Their prayer warrior, cheerleader, coach, soft place to land, chauffeur, chef, and biggest fan. 

In some ways, the first day of freshman year feels like the beginning of the end--but mostly it seems we have finally begun. 

My husband and I attempted our own send-off ceremony of sorts last night--which included a steak dinner and conversations about identity, goals, safety, and expectations. (This article was a huge help and conversation catalyst.) 

I had an agenda that was occasionally interrupted by laughter and some teasing by my funny teenagers. We capped it off with a chocolate molten lava cake, prayer and Mario Kart on the Wii. 

It seemed a fitting way to start this chapter--with intentionality, allowing space for laughter and the randomness of real life to interrupt.

I keep thinking about the terrified younger versions of me...
the 2002 version who wondered if her infertility would keep her from ever being called Mama, 
the 2003 version reeling from news that she was pregnant with not one, but three babies, 
the 2004 version worried that she would never be able to carve out one-on-one time with her children, unsure how on Earth she would make it through tearful infant afternoons, muchless toddler tantrums, 
and all the other versions in between that occasionally allowed herself to fall into fearful what ifs instead of hope-filled trust and wonder.

And here we are...teenaged, driver's permit bearing, high school students. 

It seemed important to stop and plant a flag today--marking my emotions. The words that come to mind are peace, excitement, hope and above all gratitude. 

Here we go. 

Driving Lessons

A decade and a half into my parenting journey, I have seen many milestones. The timeline is dotted with big ones everyone talks about like first steps, potty training, lost teeth and starting school. We've seen countless other moments, typically considered unworthy of celebration, but acknowledged as a necessary part of growing up--dealing with a bully, not making a team, friendship struggles, unrequited romance and the like.

Along the way I have read articles and sought wisdom for all sorts of seasons--sleep schedules, staying home alone, social media usage, dating, etc.  No one, however, prepared me for the defining moment(s) of teaching teenagers to drive.

Sure, there are countless personal stories about arguing, the fake brake pedals all parents seem to pantomime and the curbs, mailboxes and other common objects that suddenly seem to be out for you. But the last 9 weeks of driving instruction with my trio have become a glaring metaphor for the transition to adulthood happening under my roof.

Our situation is exacerbated by teaching three 15-year-olds simultaneously as they start high school. Additionally, the Georgia state requirement of 30 educational hours and 40 hours in-the-seat practical driving hours (multiplied times three) have truly made this the Summer of driving. I cannot avoid the flashing lights telling me they are growing up and are far closer to launching into the world than seems possible.

We are steadily checking the boxes for the practical requirements, but no one warned me about the shift handing keys to a powerful machine represents. The decisions these partially developed brains are making in a split second can take them places, but they can also cause serious harm.

Each time one of my kids takes the keys (and my spot in the driver's seat), I follow by entering the passenger's side. I hold my breath for a second and struggle through an internal dialogue of mental preparation:

Here we go. I have required that they complete the 30 hour class. They have studied and passed the state designed tests for learners' permits. This is the next phase. They have to DO it. After all these years of driving, my role now is to coach.

This is the sucker punch: I am there with the knowledge, maturity, experience and concern for caution--but their feet are on the pedals and their hands control the steering wheel. I have my voice, but the power and control is essentially in their hands.

Sure, I can demand they pull over. I can take away the keys. (In terms of full disclosure, I have had to do both.) But if they are to learn, I have to eventually hand them back. There is risk all along the way to learning.

I am also finding that the intensity of teaching a teenager to drive amplifies the nature of your relationship--especially to challenging parts. The overconfident adolescent becomes even moreso. The independent challenger has a harder time heeding instruction. The anxious one with some attention deficit issues can be terrifying.

The approval that most teenagers long for from their parents becomes as challenging as it is necessary. In times of high stress, words can become terse and cautionary correction overrides positive affirmation.  Keeping us all safe in the car and preserving our relationship in the process reminds me why all the early days of pouring into these relationships matter.

My fear exposes my sinful tendencies. I am a word girl who rarely depends on a curse word to convey my point--but there have been a few moments of pure terror that have caused what lies beneath to be shouted aloud. 

As I struggle with letting go of control and surrendering my fear to a trustworthy God, I have been reminded that I need Jesus as much as ever.

Riding shotgun is a powerful metaphor for my emotional position as we enter the last stage of parenting kids under our roof.

They don't own the car yet.
Their licenses are merely provisional.
They increasingly have lots of power for good or harm.
My control is diminishing. 
My trust must increase. 
They still need my voice.

Pardon my ill-timed pun, but this is where the rubber meets the road.

The thrill of independence is breathing down our necks. It is amazing to watch these young adults rise to the occasion. Perhaps no one warned me because nothing can truly prepare you for the experience.

Next Summer, they are scheduled to receive their solo licenses and I won't be in the passenger seat anymore--but for the next 9 1/2 months I am. So I pray for the patience, wisdom and endurance to steward the time well.


To everything there is a season. 
Lessons to be taught and learned. 
And a Father to be trusted.
Here we go!

The Night Before 7th Grade

Kate, Ryland & Parker,

Tomorrow morning the three of you will start your first day as 7th graders. This milestone feels huge to me. You are legitimately adolescents, at an age where I have vivid memories of the highs, lows and countless emotions and experiences in between. As I have started to share more of my own cringe-inducing middle school stories with you, my heart feels excitement, empathy and a bit of nervousness about all you will face in coming months and years.

As you know, your Dad and I seriously considered homeschooling this year. It feels like such a monumental time of growth and change that we wanted to spend as much of it as possible with you. In many ways, I think we wanted to delay your entry into the rapids of adolescence a bit longer--to make sure we had made enough deposits, to give you more grounding, to take you on more shared adventures. It was an idea we had nurtured since you were toddlers. Yet, as we prayed and made more concrete preparations God changed our hearts. He made it clear it was His Will for you to remain in your school environment and we are thrilled to see what is in store.

For what feels like at least the 10,000th time since you were born, we've let go of our plans in favor of His. It is with faith and butterflies we send you off tomorrow morning--into the storied awkwardness of 7th grade.  

As you go, I do have a couple of reminders and a promise:

As I've told you many times, this is a stage of life where you & your peers are all just trying to figure some things out. There will be bumps and bruises on the way to beautiful growth--but it is all an important part of the process. Like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, the struggle is what strengthens your wings for flying. Give grace to yourself and your peers as you all simultaneously and individually work through the process. 

With hormones, changing relationships and the stress of increasing responsibilities remember to keep your perspective. Spend a few minutes every morning reflecting on who God is and how He loves you. Pause to breathe, look around at creation and remember the One who made it all also created you and has a place for you in it. 

Your identity as a beloved Child of God is not to be taken lightly. Don't let the world distract you from that basic notion-- so many of your future decisions will be best made through the lens of that one truth. 

And when things feel overwhelming ask yourself, what will I think about this situation tomorrow, next month, next year? It's funny how that seems to work for me even in middle age. 

Finally, know that your Dad and I adore you. You are each so uniquely designed and we are delighted to watch how God is working in your lives. We commit to continue to pray for you--and love it when you tell us specific things to cover. We pledge to make home a place of kindness and respect--a safe place to land and be recharged and encouraged even on the hard days. 

As you know well by now, I mess up a lot. I am learning how to parent middle schoolers even as you are learning how to be one. So, let's also remember to give each other the benefit of the doubt, believe the best and apologize quickly. Love covers a multitude of sins. 

Go get 'em, tigers!

-Mom

Our Holy Land Experience: Bethlehem, Shepherds' Fields, Palestine

Our first destination Wednesday was Bethlehem, located in the disputed territories of Judea and Samaria (also known as the West Bank.) Influenced by our previous visit to a small village in Palestine and Christmas carols describing Bethlehem a "little town," I was surprised to find multi-story buildings and strong Western influences in this city of Jesus' birth.

Our large tour bus was parked on a city street and we walked up to the Church of the Nativity, a basilica built over the cave where it is believed Jesus was born. Yes, cave! One of the interesting things we learned is that Mary & Joseph most likely found lodging in a cave, not a wooden stable structure like we see so prevalently represented in modern Christmas. The prevalence of caves in this region makes this assertion much easier to imagine. These caves were the places many families (and shepherds) used for shelter of their animals at night. 

In order to enter the Church of the Nativity, patrons must bow down and walk through the Door of Humility. It is the only entrance and despite more practical historical explanations of the reason the door is so small, the act of going low in order to enter was not lost on me. 

Despite the simplicity outside, there is much activity (adornments, people, lines) inside. After waiting our turn, we were able to crouch down and touch the 14 point silver star that is placed over the Grotto of the Nativity--the place it is widely held that Jesus was born.

As we exited the place, I struggled with the fact that the very tourism that allowed us to visit this spot, has also made this once simple place so overdone. Next to elaborate ancient candelabra were modern heat lamps, and inside massive chandeliers were spiral shaped, energy efficient bulbs. The contrast really spoke to me about how humans can take the simple, holiest truths and overdress them with our excessive interventions.

After the church, our tour guide took us to the much more serene Shepherds Fields. Here he sought to explain the likely conditions of Jesus' birth in a much more contextual way. 

As we entered a real ancient cave (one of many) we were treated to a powerful lesson about shepherds. We also saw a stone manger that animals would have used to eat from while in the shelter of a cave. It was surreal to imagine a baby safely placed here to sleep.

After so much talk of 'ancient stones,' it was time to go and meet living stones. We drove a very short distance to a nearby resort to see Young Life ministry in action. This hotel is used to bring over 800 students and families to camp each year. We were greeted with camp-style welcome complete with drums, men in costume and smiling faces.

There is a large swimming pool with colorful water slides and even an astroturf field. As a striking reminder that life here is quite different than our own, high fences stood along the property edge separating this place from a Jewish settlement on the other side.

In addition to our group, there were 20-30 people from a state run orphanage for children who had been abandoned by their families due to special needs. As we played games, danced, sang and enjoyed lunch together I was moved to tears repeatedly. THIS is exactly the kind of place where Jesus would be with the most marginalized of the marginalized....in a Middle Eastern village surrounded by orphans with special needs and their caretakers. There were even physical fences surrounding us as a reminder. By many accounts these people were not good for much in the world--and yet these are exactly who He tells us to love. What a humbling privilege!

I will never forget this day!

Our Holy Land Experience: Old Jerusalem, Gethsemane, Holocaust Museum, Western Wall

Tuesday morning we explored the Old City of Jerusalem, a relatively small area that houses much history, culture and significance within its ancient walls. First, we visited the Christian Quarter (home to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre).

When we arrived at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre the prominently displayed presence of a bomb disposal container was a reminder that we were indeed in a land that has seen countless violent threats for generations. 

While in the Christian Quarter we were also able to go inside the area where many families live. Our tour guide was raised in this environment and was able to deftly navigate the alleys and corridors to take us 'behind the scenes' where children's toys were scattered and clothing was on the line--life amidst the historical stones.

As we entered the Muslim Quarter there was an energy shift. It was full of people and markets overflowing with rich colors and smells. We sampled delicious olives--and candy!

From Old Jerusalem, we traveled a short distance to the Garden of Gethsemane. Here we learned that the name Gethsemane is derived from the words for "olive press." as out tour guide Andre pointed out "when we are pressed, we pray." 

I had been warned the small size of this garden would surprise me. What I did not expect was the overt tourism on display as crowds encircled this small fenced in plot. As dozens and their tour guides bustled around the lot as if it were an exhibit on display, it was difficult to find prayerful stillness. It was a stark contrast to the peaceful, lush, quiet, personal place of reflection I had envisioned. However, we were delighted to find that just across the street was a private section surrounded by stone walls, available for entrance and reflection. Our group gained admittance and was able to have a short service of praise and worship before scattering around the garden to pray in this serene place. 

While the olive trees we sat under and against are not 2000 years old, they have been carbon dated as some of the oldest ever discovered--over 1000 years old! They are likely descendants of the shoots of the original trees that grew in this area. 

My personal faith doesn't lead me to conclude anything magical happened simply by praying in this place. Nevertheless, it was powerful to envelop myself in the sights, sounds, and context of Jesus' prayer vigil here before he was handed over to the authorities for crucifixion. I was challenged anew to consider the depth of His surrender and the eternal implications (and daily call) in my own life and I was truly filled with purposeful peace.

Our afternoon consisted of a solemn visit to the Holocaust Museum. We discovered after we exited that the age restriction for the museum was 16 years and up--but the kids handled it with remarkable maturity. My husband wisely paced our one hour visit so that the first 50 minutes were spent understanding the build up/causes of the Holocaust. We rushed through the graphic portions of the exhibits, but lingered in sections that focused on the survivor stories. We solemnly attempted to absorb this horrible period in World History. Although we came to the Holy Land to see the places, God continued to remind me of all we could learn from its people.

We returned the Jewish Quarter at night to explore the underground tunnels and pray at the Western Wall. Perhaps it was because of the lights on the wall against the darkness and the prominent Israeli flag--but standing in the prayer plaza was a surreal experience. 

Women did not have to cover their heads, but men did. Apparently, any head covering will do, so while Parker and big Ryland had to don yarmulkes RyGuy's Northface baseball camp was deemed perfectly acceptable.

There was a divider in the prayer plaza that sorted women to the right and men to the left--as the two genders were not permitted to pray together at the wall. Kate and I entered the women's area clutching small slips of paper with our prayer requests to leave there between the stones. 

As we took our turn praying here, the spot believed to be the closest one can get to the Temple Mount, we were surrounded by devoutly religious people experiencing the Wall in different, demonstrative ways. As many around us rocked, cried, prayed and covered their faces with holy texts, I felt a bit uncertain. I looked over at Kate who seemed to be having the same uneasiness. As we walked away I realized it was because I didn't feel I had to travel across the world to a stone wall to feel like the Lord heard more prayers. I rejoiced that Jesus tore down the wall between us and God so we can speak to Him with the same intimacy in our bathroom shower in Georgia as at this historical place. 

After a 13 hour day of touring, we returned to our hotel this night with MUCH to process!

Our Holy Land Experience: West Bank, Palestine and Jacob's Well

Monday we left our hotel in Tiberius and journeyed to the West Bank of Palestine. I confess prior to this trip, my preconceived notions about Palestinians was almost entirely based on the media images of angry young men with headscarfs shouting and tossing objects in protest to the boundary lines with Israel.

As we journeyed through the checkpoint (which was a non-event in our tour bus) the reality of the landscape was quite different than I expected.

We were scheduled to visit a group of Palestinian Christians in a small village, so our drive took us through a very agrarian area. Rolling green hills were dotted with crops of strawberries and shepherds tending their flocks.

Palestine did seem much simpler, like a step back in time, cut off from many of the modern advances in infrastructure.
The people who greeted us (both planned and those we encountered as we walked through the village) were kind and welcoming. We had to quickly switch gears from the Hebrew words and phrases we were using in Israel to Arabic words and phrases in this area, especially when one of my children had an urgent need for a bathroom.

A local family hosted our entire group of 26 on the porch of their modest home for coffee and conversation about their lives. The women and college students spoke to us about the challenges of being a Christian in Palestine-- they are minorities--making up only 1-2% of the population. Their joy and courage were palpable and left quite an impression upon me.

Our time together concluded with a delicious lunch and a fresh perspective on the subsets of real people behind sweeping headlines and assumptions. One of the challenges our tour guide, Andre, had issued at the beginning of our journey was to experience not just the ancient stones of the Middle East, but the 'living stones' as well. I felt as if this day had been a powerful experience in that regard.

Our next stop was Jacob's Well (within the walls of an Eastern Orthodox monastery).  It is believed to be the place where Jesus encountered the Samaritan Woman at the well. (See John 4.)

Photos were not allowed inside, but I borrowed this one from google images for context. The well is still functioning after all these years! We were able to lower the pail and retrieve water--135 feet down. Outside we met these boys selling olive oil soaps to the Westerners in the big tour bus for "one dolla, one dolla."

From here we traveled to Mount Zion, where we would spend the next three nights with a glorious view of Jerusalem. 

Shalom indeed.