Holiday Hangover

I think this year's Christmas was the best and went by the fastest. I can't believe it's all over; worship services; presents wrapped; Santas's cookies eaten; family fed and enjoyed. It just went by so fast I feel like I barely got to catch up with all my loved ones. Sydney had a time- and really got the hang of "i want to open presents..."

I guess I kind of have the holiday hangover- feeling kinda sad and nostalgic. Overwhelmed by the amount of cleaning and organizing that must happen at my house. Preferring to crawl into bed and escape into a good book (Breaking Dawn) or critically acclaimed TV drama (MadMen). What is that thing we do, the escapism we crave? At the mall, the bar, church? Wherever. I think we all do it. Something Michael Palandro said today really hit home. We need to stop trying to make room for God in our idealized future and let him into our present. We sometimes miss what's happening now, because we are so focused on the "I'l be happy when..."

Pretty profound stuff I think. I'm thinking about it. Sydney is making pictures.

Love,
Cameron

baby's first Christmas

This is the site at my house tonight. Santa's cookies are half eaten and his milk is all gone. The tricycle has a big red bow on it and there are too many presents to mention. Even though this is really Sydney's 3 Christmas (she was born in August of 06) it's really the first time she gets it. I can't wait for tomorrow morning.

I can't sign off without a word about the reason for the season as it were. As Doug said tonight, there is no mess to messy for God. No matter where you may be or how disqualified you may think you are from God's love, He is right there beside you ready to give it. Hallelujah indeed.

Merry Christmas.

xoCameron

another doozy

"Mommy, " she giggles, "I'm so happy."

I mean really, this is the best. What could beat that. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Ok, maybe it was the 7up. And the sleep deprivation (2 worship services, 15 hour day). Or the ice cream. Or the fun with Mimi and Papa, Brian and Andrea and Mommy and Daddy. Whatever it was, her reflection at the end of this day was "Mommy, I'm so happy."

A thought occured to me when Sydney was 3 or 4 months old. It had to do with the ferocity of our love for our children. It's huge and desperate and if we stopped to think about it, or if we talked about it, a geyser of emotion would threaten to erupt. Protectiveness, elation, wonder, awe. But it's not a passive love or a delicate love. It's almost vicious. I was still in the throes of the emotional ups and downs post partum and was sure this thought was insane, but time has passed, I'm no longer nuts, and I still believe this to be true.

It's almost like, we roll our eyes and talk about the struggles (Oh, she was up at 4:30am, or Oh, she ate her weight in Christmas cookies, or Oh that child never stops moving!)- just so that we won't make fools of overselves weeping over the sheer joy and passion we feel for them.

Maybe I am speaking only of mothers- maybe not- but it's something I've experienced that I suspect I am not alone in.

Sydney's Song

Here she is. When they say your children will imitate you they are not kidding. This was perhaps one of the warmest moments of motherhood for me yet. Totally without prompting my brilliant little girl pulled up to the piano and began "writing a song". She would play and sing a little, then stop, and "write" a few notes down on the notepad. Just like mommy does. What a miraculous gift children. How they carve a totally unique existence from yours. Visit my facebook to see a bunch more recent photos. Love, Cameron

spammers beware & ephiphany 1 and 2

I will personally thrash anyone selling beachside condos or "free internet speed tests" (what the heck is that) who posts a phoney comment on my blog. I will find you and you will be sorry.


Now, onto other business. I've revised my position. My church is really cool and most of the moms - possibly more than half -are working outside the home- and inside of course (our jobs are never done). There really is equal love for whichever you choose and frankly everyone is probably to busy to care that much about what you're doing anyway. Regarding staying home or not. I have no bone to pick on that subject and since we are all on the same page (whatever works best for the family) let's move on.

My bone to pick is with the invisibiliy of post partum depression and the lack of support from within the church community. The unspoken message is "If child bearing and rearing doesn't make you feel like your blissed out on some happy drug- and if you can't stop crying, even 6 months into it- well then you aren't much of a woman, or a Christian". Folks, this twisted inner dialogue is extreme I know, and may only be my own, but I would like to dig a bit and find out what women really think- how many have suffered through it in silence- and why.

When I started talking about it, I was amazed at how many have responded with, "I went through that too," or "I'm going through that now." Personally I was so afraid to admit it to others and to myself that I suffered much longer than I should have. I will do whatever I can to prevent another mom from going through that.

Another epiphany I'd like to record here is that I have realized why my PR hat makes me sometimes gag. When I am PR'ing these days I am doing it for good and worthy things. I work for a church. Everything these people do is selfless and loving, so there is no danger I'm hawking a bum toaster. For me, a former fashion PR person aka bum toaster hawker, I still associate PR'ing with a subtle icky feeling. Even though when these stories get picked up God is glorified- no question, I still feel this vague guilt, for seeking publicity or attention for something that may not be worthy of it. Thing is, it is worthy. Way worthy.

I spent the day in Galveston with one of our members who took $100 of "seed money"- Kingdom Assignment money- and turned it into 2130 new winter coats for the students of Ball High School in Galveston who lost EVERYTHING in Hurrican Ike. She raised $36,000 in 5 weeks, and the kids were just blown away. It was so humbling and moving to see their reaction. Some took a coat to give to a parent or teacher whom they felt needed it more than they did. Even thought it was 38 degrees outside and most of the kids didn't have coats of their own.

I need to get a life.

I have to re-train my thinking; I am not seeking the clients approval or the reporters- I am seeking to use my gifts to get people talking about what God cares about- loving our neighbors, feeding the hungry, caring for the fatherless and the widowed. I have to stop deriving my self worth from how appreciated I feel by my co workers or even how many media hits I secure. I have to repeat to myself like a mantra, "For God to be glorified," so I don't forget it for one second. WHAT AN EPIPHANY! I can't wait to get back to PRing for a great cause tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes.

Love and Coco Puffs,
Cameron

more on this

My gorgeous cousin, who has four kids and knows a few things about being a mommy, posted an awesome comment to my last entry...take a look.

See, I don't think there is a right or wrong when talking about to "stay home" or "not to stay home." I think it depends on the person. But the culture inside the church that I've noticed definitely seems to support the notion that "the right" or "the best" thing for infants/ toddlers is to be home with Mom. Which I think is fantastic if that's what's right or best for Mom too, but if it's not, then it's not empirically right or best. Does that make sense? It depends on what kind of care if provided for the child, where it is, when it is, etc. But even so, God makes up for where we lack. We can't be perfect. The best we can be is ourselves. Asking God to take over where I lack. And actually letting Him. That's been the hardest lesson of early motherhood I think. If He can make a candle burn for 8 days or raise Jesus from the dead He can certainly make up for what I lack for the child whom He loves more than I ever could. The latter a hard concept to swallow but true - if we believe.

My deal has been amazing. I started working part time when Sydney was 3 months old. She was in childcare at the church onsite. Not only was this incredible but it was close enough that I could see her every hour if I wanted to. But what I wanted was to think and talk and write and create. Being able to do that 20 hours a week made me a better mommy. Now she is in preschool - still on site- while I work 9- 2:30 four days a week, and church on Sundays. She is 2 and counts to 10 spells her name and can say water in three languages. I realize this is not the typical set up, but it was a blessing/ and still is a major blessing for me to have her learning and growing at the same place I am.

I am sure that she would be doing all these things if I was at home with her everyday, but I'm not, and she's doing great anyway.

I should talk more about the PP (post partum) to explain maybe why I am even writing about this. But I will. Soon enough. Now, I'm exhausted. Wrote a new song today and have officially written the beginnings of a Christmas album. Seems I'm obsessed with Christmas.

Ok, Love + Ice Cream.

Cameron

feminism, momism and other myths

I've been batting around some ideas lately about women and their roles, inside and outside the church. 

I've been thinking about writing about my experience with post partum depression and anxiety - in an attempt to start a conversation among Christian women on the subject. The mass media has just gotten around to talking about post partum - thanks to Brooke Shields and the like. But it seems to me that when it come to some issues of gender identity, the culture - if not the prescribed beliefs of the church- is 25 years behind the times.

A book that came out in '04- The Mommy Myth- attempted to address the issue of the pressures of motherhood from a feminist perspective. I think I speak for many gen X'ers- Christians or not-  when I say that though well intentioned and successful on certain fronts- the Feminist movement never got it right. Since it's rocket- like launch in the 60s, to it's asteroidal crash landing- right into  Britney Spears and Martha Stewart- in the 21st century, feminism has been cast as irrelevant and outdated,  along with  flower power and power suits.

But the church, the bride of Christ, shouldn't project the same impossible standards on women. Shouldn't depend on culture to give us our identities and define our roles.  God doesn't love us because we're good at anything- whether it be neurosurgery or motherhood-  does he?

I'm going to be exploring this issue and writing about it on my own...just to see what I can come up with. If you've got an experience to relate I would love to hear about it. I am going to start with my own and my friends (they shall all remain nameless of course). But I am inspired to tell a different sort of story from within the church. A story of the power and potential, pitfalls and struggles, joys and sorrows- of a generation of women trying to live their lives for the Glory of God. And trying to get all the rest of it right too. 

Let me know what you think.

-Cameron

something good

Maybe it's my co-dependant nature (can one be co-dependant with unknowable blog readers? If anyone can, I can) but I can't leave you with that last post and not the hopeful follow up.

I had an epiphany about seminary and have decided to get back in the saddle, but a slightly different on. Tailoring the degree to what I do and want to do (worship, theology, art), rather than what I don't (weddings and funerals). I am really excited about it. And Matt is doing amazingly with his new custom music production business. He's busy and had a great new business meeting today. I am grateful.

I need to go register for classes but I am excited to- with a vastly more attainable and useful goal in mind. And a revised picture of how I limit myself, God does not. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

retail therapy- delayed post

It's a strange day that begins with frosting cookies, seems to skate through irritation after irritation, flirts with retail therapy and settles on the book of John, chapter 3 v. 30.

I don't think it's impossible, or fictional, in fact I know it's real because I've lived it, but it's bizarre nonetheless. Honestly, I feel as though I am experiencing the identity crisis that one would expect in college when trying to choose a major, or even in high school when trying to choose a college. But here I am, 33, a mother and wife, with a mortgage and the like and I'm still not sure I'm doing what I will be doing for the rest of my life.

Am I being obtuse? I have realized this week that I have shortchanged a part of me (the music part) for the part that is easier to explain at the cocktail parties I don't go to anymore (the PR part). I've resigned myself that I couldn't do that other thing full time for a living because it's just not practical, but I can do the thing I'm good at that I don't love because it is.

I'm just being honest. Don't panic or anything. Everything's fine. It's just that I've realized I've been trying to fit a square peg in a rectangular hole. It fits if you shove and stretch a bit but it ain't right. This may be the stuff of diaries and not blogs and so I will wait to publish this one, but ya know. It feels so good to realize this. My shortchanging has not been valid or reasonable or justified. The thing that I love IS the thing I'm good at, and I should be focused on getting better and richer in knowledge and purpose within that. Doing the thing that puts Him at the center, at the focus. That He must become more; I must become less.

star o wonder

so it is 9:30pm and we are all in bed which can mean only one thing....a 7am call time! Yeah! Actually I am so excited because I get to sing the most amazing song ever. It's so incredible that it is no problem what so ever to get us all up, including the two year old, at 5ish to get ready. In fact I can't wait. I do have that throat tickle and hoarseness that is threatening to throw me into a panic- but I've never been a voice panicker before and I don't intend to start now. I am, however, speaking only in whispers and wearing a scarf to bed. I've become my high school voice major classmates. Ah! Where's my slippery elm!? Wait, I just whispered that because I am not aloud to speak. After 5pm. On performance days. On any days really. I actually knew people like this. It's cool though. I need to respect my voice more. I need to like warm up sometimes. What a novel concept. I don't realize what a gift and blessing it is until I can't use it. Like when I've lost my voice. It amazes me how much singing to myself is therapy. Like rocking back and forth in a ball in the corner of the room. Whether or not another human hears is irrelevant. It's really just for me. That's such a cool thing. God designed it as such. He knows all this. And losing my voice was kind of like fasting music but not on purpose. I've learned so much in times when I couldn't , or didn't play or sing. Like how it IS a gift. But it's not the extent of my value or my worth. In fact my value has nothing to do with it. How well I sing or for who or how many has no bearing whatsoever on the way I am seen by God. That's a mind blower for me and always has been. God's love is not conditional on my abilities, or my actions. Or inactions. This is something I need to remind myself of alot. We all do.

So Labor of Love is the song. Andrew Peterson wrote it. Jill Philips sings it. Check it out.

Resolution

Amazingly enough it seems that the crisis in Thailand is on the mend. I just looked at photos of the airport from CNN- hundreds of riot police, thousands of protestors, bombs, tourists sleeping on baggage belts, etc. It is literally by the grace of God that we did not get caught in that. Wow. It's a sobering thought. Not because I think we would've been hurt or anything, but more the stress of that would've just been so over the top for us in light of the crazy year we've had. I feel more aware of God as a father when I think of this. It was just his mercy. And don't think the idea of being caught in the middle of that isn't a little bit exciting, b/c it is (scary?)...but God knows that is not the kind of exciting I can handle right now.

Which brings me to the exciting I can handle. And no, I'm not pregnant. (Why does everybody think that's what I'm gonna say?)

We are performing a song I wrote called "Emmanuel" on Sunday. When I wrote it on the piano, as I do, I had no idea it was going to become what it is going to become on Sunday. Hats off to Brian Mann for arranging and producing on the fly during rehearsal yesterday. That guy is so over the top talented it's spooky. He had exactly the right direction for us, the band, to give that song wings. It was such an indulgent treat for me, such giddy joy. I felt like a twelve year old kid who got asked to sit with the cool kids at lunch. "You like me? You really like me?"

This is where the resolution comes in; that question about being an artist I was wrestling with. This is my primordial heart beat and there is no denying it. Creating music. Writing songs. Seeing the pieces come together, layer upon layer. Experiencing it and being impacted by the generosity of a God who let's me do this. It's just so amazing. Matt and I literally looked at eachother after practice the other night and he just said "This is so amazing. This life. Getting to play with these people." It really is just such an illustrious, over the top gift. So thanks, friends for letting us play with you, worship with you. And thanks God for blessing me so massively..me with the sometimes short temper, me with the lousy self discipline, me with the insecurities, me so undeserving. Yet the "me" doesn't change who "You" are. And your insistence on loving me like crazy, anyway.

G'night.

Cameron

The Rabbit Room

Perhaps it's fitting that I should stumble across The Rabbit Room whilst listening to Andrew Peterson's "Labor of Love" 10 million times.

Let me clarify, if I could I would. 10 million times. Yes because it's great. Because it shows "little Mary full of Grace" in such a real way that the Christmas story will never be the same. Yes because I am singing it in front of folks who are a lot better at singing and such than I am- tomorrow. And because I need to make "practice" part of my vocabulary.

That said, back to the Rabbit Room. It is a website proprieted (a word?) by Andrew Peterson, who is the artist/ writer who brought us Behold The Lamb of God. I just read his blog posting about why and what - as far as this Rabbit Room and it inspired me so much I would like to reprint a bit of it here but something terrible is happening with my computer. Basically this site is a forum for writers and artists who have "succumbed the the origin of there inspiration" aka God, to talk, rant, request, deny, and praise. All I've read is AP's own explanation of the name (the room in the local pub where Tolkein, Lewis and the like drank stout and talked shop)- and the intent of the site- "I believe in the role of the artist" - he says.

It's such a touchy subject for me. To which camp do I belong? Am I an artist? Am I a worship leader? Am I an entrepreneur? Am I a missionary? A wife? Mother? And why do I have to pick one? Or even two. Or three. I have struggled with this so long. I never really have ever fully fit in with one camp or the other. Maybe I travel between worlds and that's ok.

Without a doubt I agree with Peterson, I believe in the role of the artist. But I am not sure if, or what, I believe about my role as an artist. It's a conundrum. Frankly my own creations are limited to this blog and the smattering of songs I've had time to write in between diaper changes, trips to Thailand, my job at Grace (which itself is quite duplicitous) and seminary. The latter deserves a post-of-explanation all it's own.

At risk of further delving into "Are you there God it's me Cameron" ruminations, I will change the subject and offer a massive praise report and a massive prayer request.

Speaking of Thailand. There are over 100,000 people stranded at the Bangkok airport. Some of them I may know. And none of them are me. Or Matt. Praise God for that. The rest we needed is the rest we got, even if by the skin of our teeth. Thank You Jesus.

Please pray (and I am pleading with myself to do this) for little Moshe, and all the children who've lost parents to violence, this week in Mumbai, but everyday, somewhere in this crazy, broken world.

Thanks for reading.

Love,
Cameron