Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Archives for August 2018

Number Our Days

Dear Graham,

You are one year old now. Only a year . . . and already a year.

Time has become a slippery eel of a thing ever since you were born. On the one hand, I can’t believe you’ve only been with us for one revolution around the sun. I can hardly remember life before you. What filled the Graham-shaped spot in my heart for all those years?

On the other hand, how is it possible that an entire year has flown by? If I close my eyes, I can believe you are still the size of a loaf of bread, with tiny fists closed above your head as you slept. But when I go into your room in the morning, I marvel at this jabbering, smiling, squawking person you have become, the boy who toddles single-mindedly toward the potted plants.

After we brought you home from the hospital, all manner of seasoned parents echoed the same advice to us: “Enjoy this—it goes so fast!” I tried to soak in the wisdom, but it didn’t make sense to me at the time. The days stretched on, a blur of feeding and changing and wiping spit-up, eclipsed only by the even longer nights. Time didn’t seem fast—it seemed like it was standing still.

But now it’s starting to make sense. It turns out the best part of parenting is also the hardest: no season lasts forever. When one stage ends, it’s replaced by something else, something equally worthy of being cherished. Case in point: you don’t fall asleep on our chests anymore, and there’s a tote full of tiny onesies you’ll never fit into again. But now you pat us on the back of your own volition, and if we catch you at the right moment, you’ll give us the most delightful slobbery kisses.

By no choice of our own, we have traded rubies for emeralds. They are equally lovely, but we do not have the luxury of holding both at once.

Psalm 90 says, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” What would it look like, I wonder, for your dad and me to number our days with you? Here are some of the numbers from the first year of your life:

  • 1 ER visit
  • 14 pounds gained
  • 365 times we’ve tucked you into bed at night
  • 522 books we’ve read together
  • 2,000-plus meals we’ve fed you

That’s the past year by the numbers (I’ve lost track of the number of diapers). But I’m not sure that’s what it really means to number our days. Numbers have their place, but they don’t tell the whole story. They can’t capture things like wonder and joy and delight and love.

You have taught me so much already, little one. You have taught me to slow down, to notice, to pay attention. Before you, I never realized how interesting a dandelion puff is or how delightful bubbles in the sunshine can be. Before you, I never appreciated watching a squirrel scurry across the backyard or watching the garbage truck pick up its weekly haul.

You have taught me the joy of inefficiency, of putting aside my to-do list and just being present in the moment. You don’t agonize over regrets from the past or fret about the unknown future; you are all in for the right-now—for the sweet tang of a ripe blueberry or the hilarity of your dad’s funny noises.

And so even as time is speeding by faster than I get my mind around, I want to take a lesson from you as we celebrate your first year. I want to enjoy this moment and be fully present in it, not pining for past-you or looking ahead to future-you, just savoring the boy you are right now and thanking God for the gift of curious, observant, silly, joyful, active, bananas-in-the-hair you.

Happy birthday, my boy.

Love,
Mom and Dad

Online Book Club: Liturgy of the Ordinary

Did you read reading Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren? If so, you are invited to join the conversation!

Here’s how the online book club works: Just read the book at your own convenience, and then add your thoughts to the comments section. You can respond to any of these discussion questions—or just say what you thought of the book.

As a bonus, I’ll give away a free book to one lucky commenter!

I received this book as a gift when my son was just a few weeks old, and as it turned out, it was perfect for someone whose pace of life had just altered drastically. I had made an abrupt shift from days full of working and writing and serving and getting together with friends to days where the potential highlight was taking a shower.

For someone who is a big fan of crossing things off a to-do list, it quickly became clear that I needed to redefine what it looked like to follow Jesus when large swaths of my time were spent changing diapers, feeding a baby, and deciding how much spit-up on my shirt necessitated a clothing change. This book spoke into some of my biggest questions and wrestlings in that moment.

Discussion #1: Changing the World

Everywhere we look, someone seems to be changing the world. Someone is planting crops using sustainable agricultural practices; someone is rescuing women from sex trafficking; someone is helping small business owners in Kenya. This is all really good news, but sometimes it feels like a lot of pressure for a person whose main task for this season is to keep a small human being alive.

The book made me ponder this question: What if God is primarily calling us to ordinary, everyday faithfulness, not some kind of heroic Christianity? Yes, there are times when he asks us to big things for him, but truth be told, even most of those heroic things consist of a series of small acts of obedience.

“God is forming us into a new people. And the place of that formation is in the small moments of today.”

Do you ever struggle with the mundane moments of life, wishing you could do something grander? How would it shift your perspective to know that God is using our small, everyday tasks to make us into the people he wants us to be?

Discussion #2: The Divine in the Ordinary

I appreciated Tish Harrison Warren’s perspective that there is no distinction between the sacred and the secular, as we often imagine. We tend to compartmentalize the spiritual part of our lives, and we fret when it gets squeezed by other urgent things.

This book reminds us that we don’t have to wait for set-aside moments to connect with God; we can meet him in the ordinary moments, like sitting in traffic, thanking him for our leftovers, or talking with a friend.

“Small bits of our day are profoundly meaningful because they are the site of our worship. The crucible of our formation is in the monotony of our daily routines.”

In what ordinary moments do you tend to connect with God? In what ordinary moments would you like to be more aware of his presence?

Discussion #3: Learning to Be Beloved

One of my favorite chapters is chapter 1, about learning our identity as God’s beloved. When we can grasp that reality, it frames the entire liturgy of our days. We can better recognize and bask in God’s presence in the small moments when we remember that we belong to him and that he delights in us.

“We are marked from our first waking moment by an identity that is given to us by grace: an identity that is deeper and more real than any other identity we will don that day.”

What was your favorite chapter? Was there any story or topic that particularly resonated with you?

Rating: How many stars would you give this book (out of 5)?

I would give this book five stars, in part because it was the right book at the right time. I appreciated the way the author organized the book over the course of a day. It sounds like a simple premise, but the thoughts contained in each chapter are profound, and beautifully written.

I appreciated the reminder that the little things matter. And incidentally, when those ordinary moments are stacked one upon the other, they will end up changing the world—and us.

How many stars would you give this book?