Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Unlearning My To-Do List

It turns out that a person doesn’t necessarily need to be able to speak coherent sentences to be an effective tutor. Case in point: the pint-sized spit-up machine who is currently teaching me that sometimes being is better than doing.

I am a planner by nature. I like to make lists and, even better, cross things out. I enjoy the anticipation of thinking ahead…dreaming and scheming for tomorrow or next week or next month.

But when your schedule revolves around a twelve-pound person who can’t think about the future beyond I’m hungry, I’m sleepy, or I’m poopy, planning ceases to be very effective. You don’t know if the baby will nap (or for how long). You don’t know if he’ll wake up smiley or moody or you’d-better-hold-me-or-I-will-scream-like-a-banshee.

And so my tutor reminds me that sometimes we need to set the to-do list aside. Perhaps that’s one of the things children know that we grown-ups have forgotten: we can’t live in the future. We have only been given today. Children (and those with childlike hearts) have a way of inviting us—practically daring us—into the sacred now.

My little guy wordlessly tells me what God has been trying to say to me all along: that while there’s merit to hard work, it doesn’t define me. My worth isn’t predicated on my productivity. My identity isn’t determined by the number of things I crossed off (or didn’t cross off) my to-do list.

In the quiet hours of the night, after my little one is full and content, I sometimes hold him for an extra moment before stumbling back to bed. I marvel at the way he nestles perfectly into me, with his head tucked under my chin and his limbs curled up against me. I’m all too aware, the second time around this parenting rodeo, that he won’t fit there for long. I’ll blink and his arms and legs won’t fit on my lap. I’ll turn my head for a moment and he will be much too sophisticated to snuggle with his mama.

And so I try to soak in the moments as they come. Not every moment, because heaven knows it’s only possible to savor things one drop at a time, not when they come in a virtual tsunami. But I will try to seize the little moments—a dimpled smile, a tiny sigh, a contented gurgle—and freeze-frame them in my heart.

So maybe we don’t need to throw out the to-do list altogether. But perhaps we’d be better off if we could lose track of it for a bit. If we could look into the eyes of the person we’re with and be all there. In the sacred now.

I have calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk. Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Psalm 131:2

The Gift of Interruptibility

I think the world can be divided into two types of people:

1. list people
2. non-list people

(Do you see what I just did there?)

I wish I could say I’m one of those free spirits who lives spontaneously and serendipitously, bopping from one adventure to the next. But the truth is, I prefer planned spontaneity. I like the kind of serendipities I can put on my calendar. I enjoy adventures I can pack a bag for.

And yep, I like to make lists. (Confession: I’ve been known to add things I’ve already done to my to-do list, just so I could cross them out.)

My list-ish lifestyle worked fairly well for a large chunk of my life. But now that I have a toddler (aka a streaking boy-comet), the lists aren’t working out the way they used to. I keep making lists; the problem is that they’re now long enough to trip over, and not a thing gets crossed off. It’s not so much that I get interrupted from my lists on occasion; it’s that interruptions are now the default status.

At two, Graham is blissfully unaware of to-do lists. But if he had one, it would probably go something like this:

1. Pick up sticks.
2. Play with toy trucks.
3. Read books.
4. Eat snacks.
5. Repeat.

God knew how much I needed this little person in my life for oh-so-many reasons. One of them is his blatant disregard for efficiency.

“Mama play trucks,” he says.

“Mama read book.”

“Mama come too!”

As we walk around the neighborhood at a snail’s pace, stopping to pick up every leaf and rock on the way, I look at the trees that line the street—a corridor of gold and red and burnt orange. I try to memorize the way the sugar maples glow against the October-blue sky. It is so beautiful it hurts. But I’ve seen enough autumns to know it won’t last. One gusty November storm will be enough to disrobe every deciduous tree in sight.

Why is it, I wonder, that the most beautiful things are also the ones that are gone in a blink?

We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God. God will be constantly canceling our plans by sending us people with claims and petitions. 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

And so I put away my to-do list. I zoom tiny construction vehicles around the living room. I read the book about the blue truck until I have it memorized. I pick up 17 sticks on the way home. I share soggy crackers.

My list will be there when I get back. But this darling interruption? It turns out he’s not an interruption after all. He’s the one item on my to-do list I never want to cross off.

The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one’s real life—the life God is sending one day by day.

C. S. Lewis

Chasing After Wonder

winterIt’s a curious thing about wonder: sometimes it surprises you. Out of nowhere, a sunrise splatters pink across the canvas of sky. A snowflake lands on the window, and all at once you’re eight years old again.

But other times wonder is a little more elusive. Sometimes we have to get up off the couch and hunt it down.

***

Ever since I was a kid, my family has had a tradition of going for a walk in the woods on Christmas Eve. The tradition originated years ago, on a moonlit night when wonder came up from behind and sneak-attacked us. The snowflakes were falling, plump and sparkly, and the moon cast full shadows on the snowy ground.

We kids were all ready for bed when someone peeked out the window and said, “Oh, it would be such a pretty night to go for a walk!” We all lamented that it was too late to go when Dad surprised us with this proclamation: “No problem! Just put your snowsuits over your pajamas!”

And so, on that magical night, the Midnight Moonlight Walk was born.

***

As I’ve gotten older, though, there are years when the wonder wanes. This year the ground was wet and sloppy, covered in mud instead of glistening snow, and the moon was obscured by clouds. And truth be told, midnight no longer seems as exotic as it once did. It was tempting to stay by the fire sipping hot cider and eating another round of cookies. There was also the matter of my sister’s baby, sleeping soundly in her crib.

But my sister, my wonder-full sister, would hear nothing of the excuses. “Let’s get the baby up!” she said. “She can’t miss her first Midnight Moonlight Walk!”

And so we strapped little Addie into her carrier, donned our coats and boots, and armed ourselves with flashlights. Just a few steps onto the trail, I stepped in a large puddle. Shortly thereafter, I was accosted by a protruding tree branch. I wasn’t feeling the wonder.

Then I looked at Addie’s face, wide eyed and sleepy but taking everything in. Her bulky mittens made fine motor skills a challenge, but that didn’t stop her from pointing at everything we passed. “This!” she said, her gaze following the beam of the flashlight. “This!” “That!”

As we were finishing our walk, we arrived at the top of the hill, with Mom and Dad’s house lit up just below. The scene before us would have made Currier and Ives envious: the soft glow of lights, the smoke coming from the chimney, the Christmas tree in the window. We’d been sitting there only minutes earlier, but at the time I couldn’t have appreciated the beauty.

Sometimes, I think, we have to get out of our comfortable space and look from a new angle to see the beauty we already have. Sometimes we have to move to a new vantage point so we can chase down the wonder.

We may never be able to predict wonder, and surely we can’t hold on to it for long. But if we’re awake and looking for it, we just might be ready when it launches its sneak-attack.

***

The older you get, the more it takes to fill your heart with wonder, and only God is big enough to do that.
—Ravi Zacharias

Whole Heart

Lyla and Tyler 1When do our hearts splinter in a dozen multitasking directions, I wonder? Whether out of necessity or out of a drive to be efficient and productive, we try to do as many things as we can at once. Making dinner while talking on the phone. Checking e-mail while at a meeting. Texting while walking down the hall. Eating on the run. There’s a certain kind of pride that comes from being so proficient at doing two or three things at a time.

But recently I was with my five-year-old niece and my three-year-old nephew, and they taught me a profound lesson about childlike faith. Childlike faith, it turns out, isn’t just about blind trust; it’s about putting your whole heart into something.

The thing about preschoolers is that they don’t do anything at 90 percent or 75 percent or, heaven forbid, halfway. Whatever they’re doing, they’re all in. Lyla and Tyler didn’t walk from place to place; they ran—or, whenever possible, raced. When they were at the park, they played with every ounce of energy in their little bodies. And when it was time to get in the car afterward, they were asleep before we even exited the parking lot, their treasures slowly slipping out of their clutched fingers.

On the last evening we were together, Tyler asked me to play in his band, replete with plastic drums, toy harmonica, and air guitar. He offered this instruction by way of invitation or warning: “In my band, we sing LOUD!” There was only one setting for this kid: wholeheartedness.

The same was true for Lyla. As she played detective, inspired by her newfound magnifying glass and soaring imagination, I was awed by her ability to tune out everything else around her—the dinner that needed to be made, the two dogs sidled up next to her, the cacophony of voices all around. I, on the other hand, was distracted, simultaneously trying to set the table and scoot into adult conversations while I played with her. But Lyla was looking for 100 percent: “I want you to look in my eyes when we’re playing,” she said earnestly.

And so on Sunday, when we were all in church together, it shouldn’t have surprised me that these kids would teach me about wholehearted worship too.

The keyboard struck a few telling introductory chords, and their eyes lit up. “We know this one!” They were dancing in their chairs before the chorus even began.

I know who goes before me Lyla and Tyler 2
I know who stands behind

These two small voices grew louder and louder, and soon they were belting out the words.

The God of angel armies
Is always by my side

All around us, people started grinning and stealing glances at our volunteer choir. The one who reigns forever He is a friend of mine

Chorus by chorus, these little people were teaching us what worship sounds like: whole voice, whole body, whole heart.

The God of angel armies
Is always by my side

God says, “If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me” (Jeremiah 29:13). And that’s exactly what I want. I want to be more like Lyla and Tyler. I want to chase after God not with just a distracted fraction of me, but with all of me. With my whole heart.

 

Blessing for a Goddaughter

Addie Mae's baptismMy niece Addie (aka the cutest, pudgiest 15-pound bundle you ever laid eyes on) was baptized last month. Daniel and I had the privilege of playing the role of not only Aunt Eppie and Uncle Daniel Dude but also the godparents.

I’ve already figured out that Addie has much to teach me about faith and love and trust. Jesus said as much himself: “Let the children come to me. Don’t stop them! For the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to those who are like these children” (Matthew 19:14).

But when we stood in the front of the church vowing to love this child and model Christlike lives for her, it felt like such a daunting task. Addie, I silently telegraphed to her, I don’t have this thing called life figured out yet. How can I ever teach you what it means to follow God when I still have so much to learn myself?

She just stuck her tongue out at me in that goofy way of hers, as if to remind me that the two of us have a long while to figure this out together. But for now, I started a list, writing down the blessings I want for my Addie-girl.

To Addie Mae, on the occasion of her baptism, February 15, 2014

  • May you know the joy of loving and being loved. And when your heart gets broken, may those cracked places only deepen your capacity for love.
  • May the soundtrack of your life be laced with laughter. And may you know, too, that it’s okay to cry.
  • May your feet be swift for running and may they know when it’s time to rest.
  • May you know you are fearfully and beautifully made, just the way you are.
  • May you discover the secret that the best gifts are the ones you give away.
  • May you always chase after God, even as you know he is really the one chasing after you.
  • May you have friends who speak the truth to you and friends who help you up when you fall down.
  • May you know when to stay strong and when to surrender.
  • May you have eyes to see the mystery and wonder of this world God has made.
  • May you sync your heart to God’s heartbeat for the lost, the hurting, the underdog.
  • May you always hear God’s voice whispering the way you should go.
  • May you find, when the storm rages around you, that God is your shelter.
  • May you know that there is nothing you can do to stop God from loving you, nothing so bad you can wear out his grace, and nowhere you can go beyond his reach.
  • And from this day forward, until you stand by his side, may the Lord bless you and keep you. May he smile on you and be gracious to you. May he show you his favor and give you his peace.

***

Sparkly Green Earrings by Melanie ShankleI’m giving away a book I love today—Sparkly Green Earrings by Melanie Shankle (aka Big Mama)! This book about motherhood will make you laugh and it will make you cry—quite often on the same page.

For your chance to win, simply answer this question in the comment section:

What is one blessing you would want for the children in your life?

Be sure to submit your answer by Monday, March 17!

God’s Favorite

pick_your_portion_logo_circleHave you ever wondered if God plays favorites? I’m over at Pick Your Portion today, writing about Genesis 25.

Time magazine recently ran a cover story with the evocative title “Why Mom Liked You Best.” In it Jeffrey Kluger makes the claim that all parents—even those who vehemently deny it—have a favorite child. Since Kulger’s Time article came out, scientists, psychologists, and parents have engaged in heated discussion about whether this is indeed the case for all parents. It may be difficult to prove his theory scientifically, but there is no denying that parental favoritism has been around since nearly the dawn of time.

In ancient Greece and Rome, parents who knew they couldn’t care for all their children would commit infanticide, killing their newborn daughters in favor of their sons.

Princess Amelia, the youngest of George III and Queen Charlotte’s fifteen children, was widely known to be her father’s favorite, and she was treated as such from her birth.

Author Charles Dickens felt the effects of not being the favored child. His family didn’t have enough money to send both him and his older sister to school, so they sent his sister to school while he slaved away in boot-blacking factory.

But perhaps one of the most well-known cases of parental favoritism dates back to the book of Genesis.

To read the rest of the piece, you can visit Pick Your Portion here.

Virtual Book Club: Wonder

wonder_by_rj_palacioThanks to everyone who joined us for our first young adult novel discussion. This month we’re talking about Wonder by R. J. Palacio, which I introduced here.

Here’s how it works: I’ll throw out a few topics for discussion, and you can write your responses about these topics (or others you’d like to discuss) in the comment section.

Discussion #1: The Best and the Worst in People
In this novel, Augie goes through a more extreme version of what everyone experiences at some point—the agony of being different, the fear of not being accepted, the pain of being excluded. Middle school is a crucible that brings out the best and worst in people, and this is even more obvious with someone like Augie, who has a significant physical deformity.

We see the pain inflicted by Augie’s classmates who bully him and actively avoid him (claiming he has “the plague”), and we also see the pain inflicted in more passive ways by peers who aren’t mean to him but don’t stand up for him either. But on the flip side, we also see the good in humanity, such as when Jack forfeits his popularity to be Augie’s friend and when Summer sits at his lunch table even though it meant the popular kid wouldn’t go out with her.

When you were a kid, where did you fit in the social pecking order? Were you a leader, someone who went with the crowd, or someone who marched to your own drum? How can we encourage kids to stand up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular?

Discussion #2: Everyone Has a Story
I enjoyed hearing the different perspectives on the same story—it was a good reminder that everyone has a story to tell. (Although it did get tedious at times when the content overlapped from one person’s story to the next.) Via, the dutiful big sister, is often overshadowed by everything that’s happening to Augie, but when we hear her story, we realize that she’s dealing with challenges of her own too. And while we may be tempted to judge Miranda at first, after we hear her side, we discover that she’s been struggling with her parents’ divorce.

Did you like the multiple viewpoints format? Did you have a favorite character?

Discussion #3: Loving without Overprotecting
I liked the way the relationships were portrayed in Augie’s family. His parents seemed believable—imperfect but full of love. I imagine that every parent or teacher feels the struggle they felt when they sent Augie off to middle school “like a lamb to the slaughter.” How do you protect your child and still prepare him/her for the real world? How do you know when to let go and allow him fall sometimes?

Do you think you would have sent your child to school, as Augie’s parents did? What would you have handled differently?

Discussion #4: The Ending
I’m not sure exactly what I was expecting for the ending of this book, but I was a little disappointed. It seems like Augie’s award at graduation was supposed to be the climactic moment, but rang somewhat hollow to me. His whole life, Augie has wanted to be a regular kid, like everyone else. He doesn’t want to be different or special or pitied or coddled by adults, so having the principal select him for the award didn’t seem like an apt conclusion. Maybe it would have been more satisfying if the award had been voted on by all his peers—it would have shown how much had changed over the course of the year.

What did you think of the ending? If you were writing an alternate ending, what would happen in your version? What do you think will happen to Augie next year?

Rating: ★ ★ ★ 
I would give this book 3 out of 5 stars. It was a little slow at times, and I wanted to skim past some of the tedious fifth grade interactions. ut then again, maybe that’s because I’m not the target audience. This book will spark good conversations—for adults and kids alike—and it rings true as a study of the human condition.

How many stars would you give this book?

{Remember: there will be a free book giveaway for one lucky commenter!}

God with Us

On the last day my three-year-old nephew was in town for a visit, his grandma and I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to do before he went back home. Without hesitation, he and his big sister replied, “We want to go to BOUNCE TOWN!”

bounce_house_oswego_ilFor the uninitiated (as I was prior to aunthood), Bounce Town is one of those places with giant inflatable slides and tunnels, moon walks, inflatable castles, and air trampolines. In other words, a dream-come-true for anyone under three feet tall.

From the moment we walked in the door, Tyler had my hand gripped in his own chubby fingers. He wanted to go everywhere with “Aunt Eppie,” as he calls me.

“Aunt Eppie go with me!” he exclaimed, racing toward the slide as I tried to keep pace.

After squirming my way through tunnels made me for people one-third my size and maneuvering around pint-sized torpedoes zipping down the slide, I asked Tyler what he wanted to do next. “Go on the Batman,” he said. “With Eppie!”

tyler_at_bounce_townAnd so I followed him to the Batman-themed inflatable, again contorting my body through various child-sized portals.

Next up was the trampoline. Tyler squealed with delight: “Eppie make me bounce in the air!”

By the time our hour had expired, I was sporting two rug burns, several sore muscles, and one headache. But you know what? It was worth every bruise, every bit of pain.

Because here’s the thing: Tyler can’t enter my world of work and e-mail and adult conversation and grown-up things. So I entered his world. It wasn’t comfortable—Bounce Town isn’t made for giants like me. But I scrunched my body through the tunnels and small spaces—all so I could be close to this boy I love, all so I could hold his hand, all so we could breathe the same air.

On the way home, tired but happy, it hit me that traipsing around Bounce Town in my stocking feet is a pretty good picture of Christmas. God wanted to be with us, but he realized how vast the gap was between us and him. So he entered into the awkward space of a human womb, squeezing himself through a narrow birth canal, experiencing unaccountable pain and discomfort throughout his three decades on earth—all so he could be with us, all so he could enter our world.

Immanuel. God with us.

Even in the tight, uncomfortable spaces of our earthly Bounce Town.

“This is the God of the gospel of grace. A God who, out of love for us, sent the only Son He ever had wrapped in our skin. He learned how to walk, stumbled and fell, cried for His milk, sweated blood in the night, was lashed with a whip and showered with spit, was fixed to a cross, and died whispering forgiveness on us all.” —Brennan Manning

Photo Credit: http://mommypoppins.com/newyorkcitykids/bounce-houses-bounce-castles-nyc-kids (top)

9 Books Every Girl Should Read

Whether you’re looking for a book for a girl you love or you missed these along the way in your childhood, here are nine of my top titles for girls.

williams-velveteen-rabbitThe Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams
This book offers some profound insights about how love can hurt, but how it’s also what makes you real.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

a_wrinkle_in_time_coverA Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle
I’m not sure if this is an adult book that can also be appreciated by kids or a kids book that can also be appreciated by adults, but it holds up for any age, any generation. I remember reading it and having my eyes opened to the wonder and mystery just under the surface of ordinary life. I also felt a special kinship with Meg, who doesn’t seem to fit in with her peers but finds herself uniquely equipped to deal with another world once she arrives there—a world she never even dreamed of.

The Bridge to Terabridge_to_terabithia_coverbithia by Katherine Paterson
This was the first book I remember reading that didn’t have a happy ending. Although I felt indignant about it at the time, I grew to appreciate the beautiful picture of friendship painted in this book and how the characters’ grief prepared me to face my own losses.

secret_gardenThe Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett
This book serves as a reminder that friendship can blossom just as surely as flowers do, that miracles are possible, and that hope is worth clinging to.

 “Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like?” . . .

“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine.”

little_women_coverLittle Women by Louisa May Alcott
I think every girl has a little bit of Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy in her. These sisters helped me grow up and figure out who I was, and they showed me how to stay true to what I stood for.

anne_of_green_gablesAnne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
I read this series so many times the books are now practically falling apart. After I read each book as a kid, I’d give it to my grandmother (she of the red hair and the spunky personality, just like Anne) and we’d talk about it together. Looking back, I suppose it was my first impromptu book club.

little-house-on-the-prairieLittle House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
I must have overlooked the parts about dysentery, the lack of indoor plumbing, and the absence of central air, but I desperately wanted to go back in time so I could be Laura. This book offers a poignant snapshot of a particular era in our country’s history, and it’s rich with themes of family relationships and the tough times can help us learn and grow.

“There’s no great loss without some small gain.”

pippi_longstockingPippi Longstocking by Astrid Lindgren
This book is pure fun. My sister and I loved wearing colorful stockings and putting our hair in pigtails, Pippi style.

winnie_the_horse_gentlerWinnie the Horse Gentler by Dandi Daley Mackall
This book came into my life when I was an adult, like a long-lost friend, but it’s a story every girl should read. Horse lover or not, every girl will connect with the ups and the downs of being a kid, the longing for friendship, and the way the funny moments of life weave together with the more serious ones.

What were your favorite books as a kid? I’d love to hear your list.

Surprise Me!

addie_stephanie_rische_blog_authorI love going places with my sister where there is ordering of any sort involved. That’s because almost without fail, when she places her order, she drops the line “Surprise me” at some point in the conversation.

If she’s getting a cappuccino and the barista asks what flavor she’d like, Meghan will give her trademark dimpled grin and say, “Surprise me!” If she’s ordering a salad and is offered various dressing options, her response is the same: “Surprise me!” If I’m getting her something to drink out of Mom’s fridge, I can almost guarantee her refrain will echo once again: “Surprise me!”

I always stare at her, wide eyed. “What if you get something you don’t like?”

She just flashes a grin at me and shrugs. “That’s part of the fun of the surprise.”

Me, I’m a planner. I like to map it all out, write a script. I cling to the illusion of control. Truth be told, I’d rather do the surprising than the being surprised.

But this sister of mine, she lives with her arms wide open. She embraces life, holds out her hands to accept the surprises God has for her, just the way she does with her coffee.

So when the time approached for Meghan’s baby to born, I should have expected that this surprise-loving sister of mine would make room for as many surprises as possible.

“Girl or boy?” I asked over the phone, breathless, after her ultrasound.

addie_new_life_baby_stephanie_rische“We’re going to be surprised!” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

“What names are you thinking about?”

“We’re keeping it a surprise!”

And of course, the details of the birth itself were a surprise. Two days before her due date, Meghan went to the doctor. “You’re progressing right along,” he said. “It should be any day now.”

But the next day nothing happened. And nothing the next day either, or the day after, or the whole week after.

And then, ten days past her due date, just when the doctor was ready to speed things along, surprise! The baby decided to make a grand appearance. And the new mom and dad unwrapped their surprise package right there in their hospital room…a little gift of a girl named Addie Mae.

And when I first looked into the face of that sweet surprise, I wondered what other surprises God might have up his sleeve. What do I miss out on when I try to make the plan and script it all out myself?

stephanie_rische_with_baby_neiceThis little girl, this eight-pound bundle, she is teaching me already. Her life whispers, as soft as breathing, This is life! This is joy! This is a whole new world of divine surprises.

So here I am, God, with my eyes squeezed shut and my arms wide open. Surprise me.