Budapest

I couldn't not write tonight. I couldn't not write. I couldn't not say what's occured to me tonight, but what's been building over the weeks and months since we've been back from Budapest. When I think about us going back, I feel like I am hiding - as in a game of hide and seek. Only imagine I am just a kid and playing with someone much bigger and older than I am, and when I shut my eyes real tight and wedge my body inside the cupboard, I am still found. My playmate just smiles and calls my name. It's really not a fair game. Him being omniscent and all.

So I am playing hide and seek and what I am hiding from is the overwhelming sense of being called back. Back to Budapest, yes, to the Mission Field, yes. Those two things are interdependant- it's seems. But I could be wrong. We could be called to Uzbekhistan? I just don't think so. I hope not. No offence Uzbekhistan, but we are called to Budapest. Her name - yes- we've feminized her- is like the name of your most favorite, glamorous, creative cousin. Someone who inspires and mystifies you. Someone who sometimes makes you sad because of her broken heart, but amazed at her indomitable spirit.

Ok, are you getting tired of the analogies and metaphors. I am waxing poetic, and I am due that. It's been a few days.

Tonight our precious friends and bandmates joined us for a magical time of worship at St. Martins. I was tired, late and ornery. The band was amazing and patient. The worship time was anointed, breathtaking and holy. I was convicted in my spirit: I have been hiding.

Steve Johnson and his family were there and Steve spoke about Budapest tonight, but something he said amazed me..."As we say in YWAM, it's not your ability, but your availability, that matters."

Lord, am I available? Am I avaiable to do as Abram was instructed to do, to leave what's known, safe and familiar and follow the sound of your voice into the wide, wide world? I like to think so, I do. I like to pat myself on the back a bit and say, "We've done that, we've moved our family across a country, ocean and continent for You. We're all set, thanks. Back to normal now, thank you very much." But it's the still small voice, and the magnificent presence that reminds me: "We've only just begun."

Make of it what you will but I am tired of playing both hands in this great cosmic card game (there I go again with the analogies!). I want to go, I do, but I am scared. And that's the truth. No more hiding.

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