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Mariko Clark

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I Roll My Eyes and Read the Word.

June 26, 2017 Mariko
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I've been reading the Chronicles of Narnia out loud to Drew before bed.
(Should I be more embarrassed to admit that? #nerds)
And a few nights ago, we were reading the part in The Silver Chair where Jill meets Aslan for the first time. She is faint with thirst and comes across a stream, but before she can run to it, she spots a massive lion sitting next to the water.

“Are you not thirsty?" said the Lion.
"I am dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the Lion.
"May I — could I — would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
"Will you promise not to — do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise," said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the Lion.”

There is no other stream.

Let me back up.

It's been a pretty crappy couple of months.
I mean that literally, since Aidah has been potty training and occasionally decides to use evacuation as a form of passive resistance. I tell her it's bedtime and she looks me in the eye and poops her pants.

It's chilling...and effective. I'm wavering on all of my policies here.
She may be a criminal genius.

But I also mean that figuratively. Just all of that when-it-rains-it-pours, being-kicked-while-we're-down type of stuff. We've been grieving, yes. That's a complicated crapshoot in its own way. And then a few months ago, Drew was laid off. And then our central air broke down and our sewage line needed replacing.

Crappy, right?

I'm going to be honest here. I don't know how to be this person who navigates hardship on a somewhat public level. But grief has this effect - this savage clarity, the burning away of artifice. It makes so many of the affectations I used to put on seem trite. I am operating at my lowest emotional threshold...I'm rationing out the cares I have to give. So maintaining an illusion of shiny, happy Christian no longer even factors in.

I know, I know.
I've never been that shiny, happy Christian. It's just not my thing -  I'm too dark and twisty for that. I'm all at once too empathetic and apathetic to try and convince you that life with God is sunshine and rainbows. But even more so lately...I just don't have it in me to filter.

So I am just going to tell you where I'm at, in this, the crappiest year of my life.

---

There's this story in John where Jesus, after feeding the five thousand and walking on water, delivers a theologically challenging message to the crowd and many of them get frustrated and leave. And Jesus turns and asks His disciples, "Do you want to go away as well?" and Peter- oh, Peter- pipes up, saying,

Lord, to whom shall we go? You alone have the words of eternal life.

And I used to think that was the kind of pious - maybe even obsequious- answer that a happy, shiny Christian would give. Should give. I used to read that and think that someday, when I was older or wiser or more mature in my faith, I'd be able to say something similar. I'd be able to tell Jesus that I'd choose Him over anything and anyone.

But lately.
Oh, lately.
Lately I've been reading that verse and casting my own shadow over it. I've heard my mourning heart ache with an alternative tone. I hear a different sort of faith- the one I'm surviving inside of.

The kind of faith that says God yes, I'm here. But where the hell else would I go? I'm almost thirty.  I've asked hard questions and wrestled with hard answers. I've walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death - psh, I've been camping here for months. I HAVE SEEN SOME STUFF. I edited world religion books for years. I don't know everything but I know enough to decide that You're my best bet in this world. 

I'm still with You and I know You're still with me, but that's not saying much because honestly- WHERE ELSE WOULD I GO? You alone hold the words of eternal life.

I'm not waking up every day and faithfully seeking God to comfort and protect me. I'm not trusting in His word to provide. I am not greeting the morning with songs of hope and trust in spite of it all.
I am faithful from a place of practicality. Selfish, primal, survival.
I roll my eyes and read the Word.

Does that count?

---

There's a big difference between thriving and surviving. I've seen those people who enter seasons of hardship and THRIVE. They experience massive growth, they shine, they show us all how to be better.

But that's not where I'm at. I'm in this messy middle place.

And there's a lot of frustration in that. I want to thrive. I want to stop being asked to do hard things.  I want things to stop crumbling just long enough so I can catch my breath. I want God to make sense again.

But there's relief too. This sort of quiet that results from things spinning so far beyond my control or understanding. The grief - this season of hardship - it's been clarifying in its onslaught.

He alone has the words of eternal life. 

There is no other stream. 

Well that's that.

And so I'm here. Sad, confused, surviving, sullen. Sometimes I'm at peace and sometimes I'm so frustrated and bone-weary that I could scream. But I'm still here and that has to count for something.

---

For a long time, it has felt like this weird season of faith that I'm in disqualifies me from talking about God. From writing in this public sphere. People who grieve, doubt or struggle are often treated this way, aren't we? If you don't have anything nice to say, keep quiet until you're ready to praise. Endure until you have a great testimony. I mean, whatever you do - don't bring down the shiny, happy vibe. 

But I'm greatly comforted that the two men who wrote those quotes above weren't shiny, happy Christians either. Peter - rash, earnest, historic screw-up and C.S. Lewis, who described himself as, "the most dejected, reluctant convert in all of England . . . drug into the kingdom kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape."

So I - who have run out of cares to give and filters to don- reject the above messaging, even if it's only in my head. I reject the idea that I should either get happy or have a full on existential crisis so that I can be properly ministered to.

I've decided to just show up where I'm at and I know Jesus would be the first to approve. I know I speak for a spiritual minority here but I want to carve out a place for us to exist. The dark and twisty, the mourners, the downtrodden, the valley-dwellers, the angry, the doubting. We are the Church too. The stories around me would have me believe that I either need to endure beatifically or skulk away into sullen agnosticism. But I have to believe that there is something... stout? gritty? maybe even worshipful in the simple - even exasperated- acknowledgement that it all may currently suck but God exists and holds the words of life. I am here, showing up in the messy middle of it and I have nothing much else to say but that it is a place that exists and I'm sure there are other people here too.


Let's be here together, in the very least. Let's roll our eyes and read the Words of life.

 

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Noey's New England tour continues with some cousin time at "Baby Liv's" ❤️❤️❤️
Can we talk for a minute about being an introverted mom to an extroverted child? (Aidah would correct me here and say that she's not a child. She's a fifteen-year-old named Stacie and she's on her way to a gymnastics tool store...whatever that means.) What fills her tank (OUTINGS AND CHATTING AND CONSTANT STIMULATION) drains mine. What fills my tank (cozying up with books or art) makes her stir crazy and frantic. I'm an Enneagram 4 with a very strong 5 wing, so I have a constant fear of being depleted. Some days I find myself frantically and fearfully defending my energy, my alone time. 
There's this line from a book she has that says "I am your parent, you are my child. I am your calm place, you are my wild." I haven't figured out how to find balance for our energies yet. How to make sure we are both being filled up without draining the other. But I've learned that it helps to remember that what we have is less of a tug-of-war and more of a symbiosis. She's not robbing me of calm; she's visiting my calm place. I'm not being dragged into her wild; I'm being given an opportunity to visit and delight. 
And - as elementary as it sounds - I need to constantly remind myself that while boundaries are important (like designated alone time) I have the assurance that I'm constantly connected to the Source of any Calm, Wild, Love, Patience or Balance I may need for the day, should I choose to access it. I have the promise that I am never depleted.
It's a never-ending lesson and some days we get it right, other days I end up crawling onto my kitchen counter where the needy hands can't reach me 🤷‍♀️
It fascinates me that God set me and Aidah up to teach each other this balance. It is one of the hardest parts about parenting for me but I am also so weirdly grateful.

Any other intro/extroverted parenting pairs out there? 🙋
Drew: did you have a chance to look for that tax form yet?
Me: NO DREW I'VE BEEN SUPER BUSY, OKAY?
I'm thrilled to be a contributor at @ourdaughtersdaughters, an online collection where women can read and share honest stories. You can read the rest of my essay "Upward" there, along with more pieces by me, my pal @ajjolley and other ladies I so admire. (daughtersdaughters.com)
WE TOOK THREE KIDS AND TWO BABIES TO THE ZOO DURING SCHOOL VACATION WEEK. @brittjoycoop and I earned our mom cards today. 
#theaidahandcalvinshow
Dear Aidah and Noah...maybe someday your mom will get her act together in time to buy you coordinating Easter dresses. This year, I was too absorbed in my March Madness bracket. The good news is that Villanova won last night and so did I. And then my good fortune continued when I realized you actually already had similar dresses in the piles of laundry I neglect. .
I would offer to use my bracket winnings to buy you dresses for next year...but to be honest I don't care about dresses and also Noah will probably spit up on them immediately like she did this morning...before we changed back into pjs. 👍
Love, that lady who feeds you.
Excerpt from new post on the blog:
"Holy Week is a study in paradox. The somber and the celebratory.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
I know many people politely pay their respects to Good Friday, impatient to get to the explosion of praise on Sunday. These people want to celebrate and give thanks for the life and abundance they are experiencing in their season. I get that and I think it’s wonderful – I’ve been there. I am there, in a way. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
Last year, I visited a different camp. I spent last Good Friday as a Mourner. (I suppose I always will, in a way.) And to the people in that group who resonate terribly with this ‘holiday’, who recognize all-too-well the specter of death, the hope extinguished, the DARKNESS…I am so sorry you’re in that place. I know (I’ve felt) that He promises to be near to the brokenhearted and crushed in Spirit. But that doesn’t make it much easier, does it? ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
But there’s a third group. The Saturday people, often overlooked in the church. I think it’s because we make projects out of the Friday people and leaders out of the Sunday people. But what about the people in that bleak and weary middle. Who have heard the repeated promises of redemption and are just…waiting. Who commiserate with the Mourners and can’t help but grin at the Sunday celebrators, but go home to their threadbare resolve. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
This is the story of my very best Saturday. But I won’t ever forget the time I spent in that waiting place. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
If you have been sitting in darkness for so long that light seems impossible…If your Sunday has been months, years, DECADES in the making…I’m so sorry. I see you. It is unfair. It is maddening. I know how empty the Christian clichés are. I know how it can actually make you physically angry when someone tries to offer you hope."...
(read the whole post by clicking the link in my bio) #marikoclarkblog
To counterbalance those cringey throwback pics I posted yesterday, here are some shots from our family session with @ebersolephoto 😍😍😍
(Check them out if you're in New England! They're doing a giveaway this month!)
.

I think it's important to fangirl your friends, so I'm about to: Danny and Brandi are not only insanely talented (trust me, we don't actually look this good. They have some sort of magic...) but they're some of the most hardworking people I know. Drew and I know firsthand how difficult it is to find balance with two working parents. Brandi and Danny are out there, creating wondrous art and winning awards... and they still manage to love their kids and the people who are lucky enough to be in their corner with fierce (Brandi) and earnest (Danny) devotion. 😆❤️
As a creative, I've learned a lot from them about delight, strategy and commitment to craft. 
As their pal and a person who believes that wonder is our best form of worship...I'm just so grateful that they do what they do. .
If you're a fellow Nashvillian and want to book them for a wedding, family session or event, you should definitely do so. Not only will that grant me another visit from my buddies, but it plays into my master plan to force them give up everything they know and love to move here.
11 years ago today, I agreed to be Drew's girlfriend. He told me on our first date that he was all in, but I took a few months to commit. Because deep down I knew Drew Straton is not the guy you date - he's the guy you marry...and it seemed absurd to have found that so young.
Over a decade later, I'm still in awe of the way he loves me -- all in, all the time. While I'm hesitating and deliberating and overthinking, he's feeling all of his feelings with his whole heart and having a grand old time. Because Drew is fun and fear is not and I for one am thrilled to be on Team Fun. 
Please enjoy these throwback pictures from when we were younger and still had our good looks 😂😂😂
Calvin: Aidah, guess what picture I'm looking at.
Aidah: (not looking up) I'm not Aidah. I'm Strawberry Shortcake.
Calvin:...
Aidah:...
Calvin: Aidah, guess what picture I'm looking at - A HUNDWED CWAKODILES!!!!!
Aidah: LET ME SEE. 
#gother
#theaidahandcalvinshow