Many of the phrases there are even popular in secular circles, and it is common to see them in greeting cards, artwork, and other places. I looked it up again, because I wanted to see if there was anything in that passage that could relate to “The Mommy Years.” Well, not really....anyway not explicitly.

However, verse 7 caught my attention - “A time to be quiet, and a time to speak up.” (NLT) Well, right now I am “speaking up,” but in general – when I moved from working as a teacher to being a stay-athome mom, I felt like I moved into a “quiet season.” No, I don't mean that all days are spent peacefully at home, just blissfully taking Gareth on stroller rides or engaging in quiet activities. But in general I have sort of been moved into a quiet season. I'm not nearly as active in social or church activities as I used to be; I'm not out in the public work force. And while it was an adjustment, and sometimes I feel like I'm not “doing anything” with my life right now, I have come to realize that it is just a season, and I should enjoy it while it lasts. Sometimes I'm actually very happy to have an excuse to automatically opt out of all social functions that begin at 7:00 pm or later. But overall – I think God is using that quiet season in both my life and Gareth's life to be a time of connecting – with each other and with Him.

We won't always have these years...if I'm like most people I run into, 20 years down the road, I'll be saying, “It went so fast.” One place that I've found that I feel like I can connect with God during this season is when I put Gareth down for his nap or bedtime. He still wants to be rocked to sleep (Yes, he's 2 – yes, some would see that as a problem, but it's not right now, so I'll worry about it when the time comes. After all, I may not even be allowed to set foot in his room in 12 years.)

At that time, when it's quiet, and we finally just sit down and relax in the middle and at the end of each day, I sometimes think about what a miracle human beings are. That God would create and care for each one of us – the same as, actually much more than I care for my own son. These times have made me aware of not only how much I love my own child, but how much each person was loved – hopefully by their own mothers, and definitely by God. When I think of every person that I run into as once being a small, (mostly) innocent, cute little toddler, it really changes my perspective. And I think that may be how God sees us, when he calls us his children.

Instead, I’m a math professor, and I have not married and didn’t have a fourth-grader by 2000. As we think about our seasons of life, most of us are not walking through the predictable life that we thought about in elementary school.

When I was in my mid-twenties, it was exactly the fact that my life wasn’t following my plan that motivated me to look into the Bible and to find out exactly what God promises us. And of course I found that God often interrupts plans. The stories that we read ourselves and teach to our children are about men and women like David and Paul and Mary Magdalene whose life plans were completely changed when God spoke to them. But each of those people did not complain that they were entitled to a ‘normal’ life. They were drawn toward God’s plan and pursued him enthusiastically.

There is a picture that you may have seen on the news about an amazing rescue of two children after the Haiti earthquake. A brother, about 5 years old and his older sister were trapped underneath rubble for 3-4 days, in such a way that their arms were pinned to their sides. Eventually rescue workers got to them and carefully lifted out the boy first. As he was lifted out, he stretched out his arms wide and gave the cameras such a big smile that it was like an unplanned Hallmark moment. Most people in that boy’s situation would have reacted with tears of relief. When he was asked by a reporter why he put out his arms and smiled, he said, ‘It just felt so good to move my arms.’

It struck me that that picture is a good reminder of the attitude that each of us should have as we go through our life, because our salvation is like being rescued from that rubble. I can go through my life, not knowing what the next season will be like, but with the freedom and joy of knowing that a loving God cares for me individually, created me carefully, and has good plans for me.

I do not always live my days with the kind of attitude shown in that picture. Right now in my life, I am working in a partnership in Africa in which I often don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m the type of person who likes to know the next step. When I get frustrated and have a hard time keeping an attitude of joy, there are two verses from Scripture that encourage me. One is from the book of Isaiah, in which God says “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is best for you, who directs you in the way you should go.” (Isaiah 48:17) . The second is in James, “When you face trials and temptations, do not resent them as intruders, but welcome them as friends. Realize that they produce endurance and the right kind of independence. Let the process go on, and you will find you have become men and women of mature character. And if in the process any of you does not know how to meet a particular problem, he has only to ask God, who gives generously to all men and women without making them feel foolish or guilty. The necessary wisdom will be given to you.” (James 1:2-5)

Interesting because I don’t usually think about such things. For so many years my life has been pretty much a blur of activity that hasn’t left much time for worrying about or even noticing transitions from one season to another. And I suspect many of you are like me. Life just happens



And it’s disconcerting because preparing these remarks has forced me to see myself as others see me – specifically, the students at Messiah College and the 20-something young professionals with whom I work at the Brethren in Christ Church Offices.

It’s not easy to admit that I’m no longer young or even middle-aged. Yet I’m not ready to say I’m old, despite being told recently by a college classmate that “once that 6 is in front of your age, you are old, baby.” I get annoyed at being called a senior, and I bridle whenever someone asks me when I’m going to retire – something that has been happening a lot lately. I feel like I have at least one more “big” thing left in me before I head out to pasture. Yet I keep getting messages to the contrary, which leaves me in a strange, in-between season:

a season where I’m reliving my time as a young mother through the experiences of my daughters in-law, while at the same time previewing late-life issues through the experiences of elderly parents, who themselves still fight the label of “old.” On a lot of days I feel like I have whiplash from swiveling my attention first in the direction of my children and grandchildren and then in the other toward our parents. I’m a living breathing example of the “sandwich generation.”

a season in which I have the joy of mentoring young adults who share my passion for the church, for organizational life, for board governance, and for fundraising, and where I, in turn, am mentored by an amazing group of former seminary presidents and board leaders who’ve traded a full-time paycheck for very full schedules as consultants and coaches to faith-based nonprofits. I’m old to my mentees and still young to those who are mentoring me.



a season in which I no longer feel like I need to prove myself professionally, and that is amazingly freeing. It’s wonderful to be able to pick and choose my assignments and best of all, to be able to spend time with my grandchildren without worrying that I won’t be taken seriously because of my commitment to family. I’ve been there and felt that, and it’s great to have left that season of life behind me. But now I worry that unless I’m “out there” all the time, people will think I’m losing my edge.

Life has become a series of tugs-of-war in this in-between season.

Perhaps that’s why, when preparing the case statement materials for Cooperative Ministries this past year, I was drawn to a verse in I Samuel, chapter 12, which is not a part of the Bible where I regularly read. In this chapter, the Prophet Samuel, after recounting the ups and downs of his long ministry among the people of Israel, urges them to “stand still and see this great thing the Lord is about to do before your eyes.”

In this in-between season in which I find myself, it feels good to just stand still for a bit and to focus my attention on what God is going to do for and through me. This passage of scripture has given me permission to pause, a least for a short time, in order to prepare myself to see the great thing the Lord is going to do in my next season.

I recently finished reading a book titled Borderland Churches: A Congregation’s Introduction to Missional Living in which the author talks about the Hebrew word HABAR, which in English is translated as "crossing over." We find the word in the story about the children of Israel standing on the banks of the Jordan River, gazing across into the Promised Land. They are curious and afraid at the same time – they haven’t passed this way before and they don’t know what to expect. As they face into an unknown future, suddenly the past for all its problems – all those years wandering around in the wilderness – seems pretty inviting.

Right now, I’m feeling a little like those Israelites; no longer in one place but not yet in the next. Intellectually I know that it is only in crossing over, of stepping into a new season, that God’s new things will become possible. Yet I want to stand still for a little while longer and to savor this in-between moment. A new season is coming, but for now, I’m enjoying this time between seasons. And for now, I think God is ok with that.

May 1, 2010