New Normal

This morning marks a transition.  Four weeks have passed since Eleanor’s birth and my paternity leave officially ended yesterday.  The four weeks home with Eleanor and Sarah has truly been a blessing beyond words.  I’m so thankful for the support of family and friends who’ve offered the gifts of meals, extra hands, encouraging cards, and loving support.

I don’t know how anyone can really be ready to leave this beautiful face for a day of work.  I’ll take it one step at a time…and then sprint back for baby holding later today.

 

 

 

Marriage Equality

The following reflection was shared as part of  the Remembrance & Rally for No on Proposition 8yesterday evening at the State Capitol.

On behalf of California Faith for Equality and its 6,000 faith leaders who are keeping the faith for marriage equality, I offer my thanks and appreciation for your dedication to ensuring equal access, for all couples, to the rights and responsibilities of civil marriage.

My own faith tradition teaches that all people are bound together as inseparable parts of God’s creation.  To this point, South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu reminds us, “My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours.”

Our interrelatedness has become intensely real for me these last few days.  Just over two weeks ago, my wife gave birth to our first child.  Our new baby is utterly dependent on her mother and the people around her.

Loving Eleanor

Some of the very first people to hold her were the children of dear friends.  Imagine the tenderness of young children cautiously holding a newborn baby.  So much hope, so much possibility.  These children and their parents embody for me Jesus’ call to love thy neighbor.  They recognize how their lives are bound up with the life of our child and they reach out to her in love:  holding her, gifting favorite books, sharing special toys.

Held in Love @ 2 Days

All of these children who held our daughter — Eli, Michael, Noah, John & Paloma — come from families with two moms.  Each parent loves and cares for her children as much as anyone can possibly imagine and they’re teaching their kids to care generously for others.   Eli, Michael, Noah, John, Paloma and all of the children of our friends and neighbors with same gender parents deserve to be assured the same safeties and protections that our newborn and family are granted by the State of California.

The movement for marriage equality is about more than abstract commitments to fairness and justice.  It’s too often oversimplified as us versus them, with violent repercussions.  The truth is…unfairness in marriage laws effects us all.

Our precious new baby belongs to a greater whole.  Her “humanity is diminished when others are treated as if they were less than who they are” (Archbishop Desmond Tutu).

I believe in the right and responsibility of people to form life-long committed relationships.  My belief is rooted in my understanding of God made known through Jesus.  Where there is love, the sacred is in our midst.  When two people love each other…it is in the interest of the entire community that the relationship be recognized by civil laws.

I believe that the fullest expression of God’s love dwells where two or more gather in the name of peace and justice and hope.  May God bless our gathering tonight and our work for marriage equality in the weeks and months and years ahead.  Diverse people of faith across this state will continue to stand together for equality for all Californians — no matter how long it takes.

Lessons from the Car Seat

We installed our infant car seat about 6-8 weeks before the expected arrival of our baby.  I initially felt a bit self-conscious about driving around with an empty car seat.  Instead of “baby on board,” we were “baby seat on board.”  Not quite the same effect.  I was certain people would think I’d lost my mind.

Soon though, the infant seat became just another part of the car.  Along with the floor mats and pile of stuff for dry cleaning, we had an empty infant car seat.   I had completely forgotten about the seat until it was time for our family to go home the day after Eleanor was born.

It seemed like a very simple task.  Drive the car to the front of the hospital and bring the car seat to the room.  Sarah had labored for 13 hours and then nursed for most of the day and night.  This was the least I could do.

Parking went smoothly.  Removing the car seat, no so much.  The bottom kept getting stuck.  I pushed the red button on the back of the seat and pulled up.  Slight movement followed by pull.  Stuck.  Tried again and again and again.  I turned and pushed and pulled and pressed and talked to the red knob on the base of the seat.  No response.  I googled “how to remove a car seat” on my iPhone.  Lots of videos on how to install properly.  Nothing on how to remove.  I planted my feet against the back seat of the car and pulled with more force.  Still stuck.  Sweat ran down my face.  Tried a few more times.  After forty minutes of struggle, the car seat had finally defeated me.  I unlatched the base and carried the entire thing through the hospital to our room.  The straps from the base dragged along the floor and I didn’t care.

Sarah and Eleanor were cuddling on the bed when I arrived.  I dropped the seat next to the bed.  While holding the baby in her right hand, Sarah pulled up on the large red handle and the seat released.  Yep.  It was that easy.  No pushing.  No jerking.  No youtube instructional video.  No sweating required.  Just a simple latch to release the seat.  Sarah had me practice in our room a few times before taking the base back out to our car.

 

Heading Home

As we journey into parenthood, I’m becoming increasingly aware of just how much I have to learn about this new blessing and responsibility.  Red latches, baby lullabies, sleepless nights, precious naps, and so much more.  I’m thankful for the patience of my partner, Sarah, and for the people who’ve offered such generous support to our family in these first days home.   I no longer approach the infant seat with fear and trembling.  The base is secure and the seat is quite functional.

 

Far from the anxiety of the hospital parking lot, we’re entering a simple and beautiful rhythm:  cuddling and sleeping and walking and eating and holding our baby.  I am forever thankful for the gift of Eleanor.

Eleanor Marshall Smith

Eleanor Marshall Smith was born at 5:41 am on Saturday, October 17.  6 pounds 7 ounces & 19 1/2 inches.  She’s beautiful and healthy.  We’re loving every moment of these precious first days at home.

Sarah Pre-Delivery

Expecting Parents

Eleanor Moments After Birth

Sarah & Eleanor

Matt & Eleanor

Dr. Marci Bikes from Davis for First Visit

Happy Grandparents!

Eleanor

Ready for Home

Mom & Baby @ Home

Precious Girl

Soil Born Farm

The Table joined Soil Born Farm on Saturday for Volunteer Day.  Linda wrote about her experience here.

Signing In

We planted onions and pulled Johnson grass.

Transferring the onions.

We dug in the dirt.

Assessing the soil.

Two farmers from Soil Born, Antonio and Austin, guided us through the work and shared about the vision and mission of Soil Born Farm.

Antonio showing the way.

Occasionally, we found ourselves pulled away from the fields to check on the chickens…

Checking out the chickens.

hide in the hay…

Hiding in the hay.

and scavenge the already harvested rows.

Look what I found.

Wendell Berry writes,

The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility.  To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.

Hope

The Ministry Formerly Known as Theology on Tap

Theology on Tap is one of the ministries we’ve been experimenting with at The Table.

I first learned about Theology on Tap while visiting Holden Village several years ago. A few year-round staff at Holden brewed their own beer and would invite a group of folks together each week for drinks and theological conversation.

Countless churches have hosted something similar.

We just completed a series of four gatherings at Hoppy Brewpub.  Each gathering focused on a specific topic:  Evangelism, Religious Pluralism, Health Care Reform, and Creation & Evolution.

Feedback was very positive.  Since our baby is due any day now, we intentionally planned to take a few weeks off and re-group near the end of November.  It’s kind of like a one month baby time-out.  Instead of going to the corner, I’m getting ready for round-the-clock baby watching duty.  Thankfully, several people are stepping forward to help vision and plan for how this ministry will develop in the weeks ahead.  We hope to build on the momentum and have a schedule for future gatherings posted soon.

One of the first things we’ll need is a new name.  Apparently, The Archdiocese of Chicago has a copyright trademark on Theology on Tap.  They actually threaten legal action against communities of faith for using the name.  While we could put feelers out for an attorney, I think we’re better off searching for a new name.  So along with baby names, I’m also thinking of new names for this ministry.

We could go the Prince route:  The Ministry Formerly Known as Theology on Tap or a fancy ineffable symbol.  A few other options I’ve heard so far:

• Guinness and God
• PUBlic Theology
• Theology Pub

Any suggestions?  We’ll have our team of lawyers check on the trademark technicalities before moving ahead this time.

Reaching

I preferred playing catch to practicing piano as a kid.  While I don’t recall ever being explicitly discouraged to pursue music, I think I’ve always been a bit intimidated by music.  Since I didn’t learn to sing or play an instrument, I tend to feel vulnerable around musicians.  I fear being exposed as utterly uninformed regarding the art that shapes and gives meaning to their lives.

It's Greek to Me

So, it was a stretch for me to walk into the Music Recital Hall at Sacramento State this evening.  I went to support a friend for his Senior Recital. Thankfully, I went with another friend who is a musician.  I was cautious of my every move throughout the performance.  Triple checked to make sure the cell phone was off.  Glanced sideways to be ready to applaud appropriately.  Tried not to shuffle the papers as I followed the order of performance:  Liebesbriefchen to FuBreise to Freudvoll und Leidvoll.  (Thank you God and music department for the text translations of each song.)  While I never was able to move fully beyond my own insecurities during the performance, I’m thankful for the experience.  Brandon’s voice was truly beautiful to hear.  The music was moving.

I suspect my experience with the recital parallels how some folks experience church.  If you haven’t grown up in church, it probably feels intimidating and scary.  You’ll want to double check your phone.  You’ll inevitably get lost in the coded language of the bulletin.  You’ll glance to the side to see when it’s appropriate to stand.  You might not be able to get over your own feelings of uncertainty and be fully present in the experience.  Perhaps though, something will move you.  Perhaps something will help you beyond all the barriers faith leaders construct and you’ll connect with the mystery of the Divine in the midst of an imperfect community of folks who gather to practice their faith.

METHODism

In a world of 30 Minute Meals with Rachel Ray and Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee, it seemed entirely unlikely that Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking would be restored to prominence in American homes.  But it has.  Through a blog and a book and a Hollywood film, the mantle of French cooking has been passed from generation to generation, from Julia Child to Julie Powell.

There’s nothing quick or easy about Child’s 524 recipes.  They’re perhaps as counter-fad diet as you can imagine.  Quoted in a NY Times article, Melissah Bruce-Weiner responds to the recipes, “I’m looking at these ingredients going, Oh sweet Lord, we’ll die.”

John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement in the 18th Century, didn’t write a single book of faith recipes.  He did, however, develop a method that inspired and sustained a revival of Christian faith.

The revival has long since passed.  I’m afraid Wesley’s method and most of our United Methodist churches look something like Julia Child’s The French Chef sandwiched between episodes of Top Chef.  They’re sweet and laborious and sincere and somehow just totally out-of-place.

We live in a world that assumes endless choices.  We’re used to food being readily accessible, without a thought to recipes or ingredients.  In this world, faith is just another one of the things we consume.  Some of us consume faith through traditional worship, some through yoga, some through contemporary worship, some through the NY Times and coffee at our neighborhood bistro.

Bread made in worship by Sophia on Sept 27

In the midst of such choices, John Wesley’s method feels deeply counter-cultural.

Wesley’s method was like a recipe for faith formation.  Worship weekly.  Serve the poor.  Visit prisoners & the sick.  Receive communion constantly.  Meditate on scripture daily.  Fast regularly.  Gather in small groups, or classes, to hold one another accountable in faith.  Here are a few of the 22 questions Wesley believed we should consider in prayer each day:

• Am I a slave to dress, friends, worries, or habits?
• Did the Bible live in me today?
• When did I last speak to someone about my faith?
• Do I pray about the money I spend?
• Do I disobey God in anything?
• How do I spend my spare time?
• Is there anyone whom I fear, dislike, disown, criticize, hold resentment toward or disregard? If so, what am I going to do about it?
• Is Christ real to me?

If we’re honest, I think we’ll respond to Wesley’s method much like Melissah Bruce-Weiner did to Julia Child:  “I’m looking at these ingredients going, Oh sweet Lord, we’ll die.”

Yet, I think we live in time in which people hunger for depth and community and meaning.  I’m wondering more and more what it might look like for a small group of us to live in the methods of John Wesley like Julie Powell lived in the recipes of Julia Child.

Nesting

Sarah reached thirty-seven weeks of pregnancy on Friday.  Most babies are born between thirty-seven and forty-two weeks.  So, as of Friday, Sarah’s pregnancy is officially full term.

I’ve read and heard stories about “nesting” during the final weeks of pregnancy.  Today, we’re living it.

After washing and folding countless loads of baby clothes & bedding with special eco-friendly baby detergent, I walked into our bedroom to find Sarah ironing the bumper cover for the crib.  I suspect most parents only iron the bumper cover once, so I decided it was worth a photo…

Sarah Ironing the Crib Bumper Cover

I believe the crib is officially ready.  Though, I’m still not ruling out the possibility that I’ll be directed to wash the sheets one more time.

Crib with Ironed Bumper Cover

Brought to a Halt

Yesterday didn’t go as planned.  After lunch with a friend, I decided to stop by the post office to mail a few cards.  Simple enough.  Few minutes out of the way to make sure the cards would be mailed today instead of tomorrow.

No problem with the cards, big fiasco with the car.  A repetitive thud began as I turned into the post office.  I waited for a moment before getting out of the car.  Perhaps the tire would resurrect itself if I simply paused.  Nope.  Front left tire was flat.

I’m not the most handy of people, but changing a tire is a simple task.  Right?  I tried to project confidence as I walked to the back of the car.

Wrench – check.

Car jack – check.

Spare tire – check.

I looked around hoping that both no one was watching me and that someone would save me out of the mess.

I positioned the jack and raised the car slightly.  Stepped back to admire the work.  Growing in confidence, I grabbed the wrench.  Lug nuts wouldn’t budge.  Tried again.  And again.  Confidence flattened, I stepped away to both find some shade and to make sure it wasn’t obvious to passersby that I couldn’t remove lug nuts from a tire.

Defeated, I called AAA.  The woman was encouraging and generous, “Oh, the lug nuts get stuck on people all the time.”  Masculinity momentarily restored.  I confessed it’s been many years since I’ve changed a tire.  She tried to lift my spirits, “We just aren’t used to doing maintenance on cars ourselves anymore.”  While true, this didn’t help my feelings of inadequacy.

A tow truck would arrive within the hour to change the tire for me.

The idea of a man driving up in a tow truck to change the tire for me inspired me to try again.  I pushed harder on the wrench.  Tried to leverage my entire body.  Nut didn’t move, but sweat poured from my face.

A man stopped to offer help.  Took him about 3 seconds to dislodge the first lug nut.  The second seemed to loosen as he merely glanced its direction.  Good news.  Yet, not exactly an ego booster for me.  He patiently taught me to use the wrench and then observed as I labored to lift the car using the jack.

The jack leaned back, looking as though it would snap in half at any moment.  He tried to help.  I was certain my incompetence would be exposed again.  Thankfully, he blamed the jack and told me it just wasn’t adequate for the job.  Again, this felt good, but wasn’t exactly helpful in resolving the tire situation.

AAA arrived.  Professional car jacks are enormous.  He assured me the jack that came with the Prius was inadequate, recommended a larger model, and changed the tire.

I then spent the next two hours at the dealership.  Turns out all four tires were worn and needed to be replaced.  While not how I intended to spend the afternoon, it is reassuring to know that our soon-to-be-born baby will be rolling home from the hospital on brand new tires!  Crib, dresser, rocking chair … new tires.  We’re not exactly living out our commitment to simplicity in our purchasing choices in the final weeks of pregnancy.  Simplicity seems to have taken a backseat to security for the moment.

Sometimes tires just go flat.  No warning.  I was prepared with tools in the car.  I just wasn’t confident in using them.  Ultimately, they weren’t really the right tools.  A generous passerby offered assistance.  A professional helped get me back on the road.  All my other plans for the day were delayed and my shirt was drenched.

The experience leaves me wondering what tools I carry with me for the moments I’m brought to a halt by life’s challenges and the world’s brokenness.  How much do we need to practice using the tools in order to be ready when we really need them?  How do we find the right tools for the job?  How open will we be to passersby offering support?  What keeps us from asking for help?  Will we slow down to offer assistance to others in their time of need?