what yoga and biking teach me about being white

It's a personal accomplishment for me to work out twice in one week these days. I tend to go through short seasons of working out too much and then basically take an extended sabbatical on it all. The roots of my issues with exercise and my physical identity run deep, but we won't go into that today. 

Somedays, days like today, I own being white. You must know my journey in exploring my identity as a white woman has been, well, mostly stalled, critical, and frustrating. Like most white people, I grew up thinking that all would be well if I could just get to a place of white nirvana where black people liked me, I didn't have to talk about race, and the world was convinced I was truly "color blind". Well, all of this was an attempt to erase my whiteness and escape all of the uncomfortable and painful realities of race in my daily experience. A part of my embracing being white was realizing it was possible that things weren't so cut and dry for us in the grand scheme of things either; the story was greater than just white people feeling (perhaps even rightly so) the need to be ashamed, hide their oppressive heritage (and tendencies) and some of us (ahem, me) thinking we are the reason for all the pain in the universe. Deep breath. The journey my life had taken me on was leading to a very peculiar and unforeseen breakthrough: God designed me to be white, and that was a very good thing. (gulp) 

My husband and I work with Destino, a contextualized ministry of CRU reaching the world with the gospel of Christ through Latino college students. A pivotal moment in my journey toward embracing my ethnicity, came after a dinner we had in our home with students. I was washing dishes and a dear friend, a student who would end up living in our home, was standing with me sharing some of her story. We discussed life, Jesus, relationships, education, and race, you know, the usual Destino talk.  I chose to live in a moment of vulnerability and share with her my discomfort with being white and knowing where I fit into the healing of so many Latino students who may or may not trust me. After graciously listening to me, she looked at me and said, 

    If you weren't white, none of the life giving words you say to me would mean much.

Stunned and exposed and trying to keep washing the dishes like that wasn't the most powerful thing anyone as said to me, I almost lost it. Tears were welling up and healing was beginning in my core. I had always encouraged her that God made her brown for a reason, but it didn't dawn on me that God made me white for a different one. I've known how much power I have walking into a room of diversity, but I didn't know I could have a voice. I thought the best way to steward my whiteness was to sit down and shut up, frankly, and give someone else a turn. And, while all that has it's place and should be done sometimes, the point isn't to be a doormat. God designed me by hand, and he chose for me to be white. Since then, I have started to explore being white and embrace what that means. 

I like yoga. a lot. Ironically, the practice originally is anything but a "white thing" but here in Denver, well, it sure is. Biking, too. Professional athletes from across the country come here to train and play on their bikes. I went to yoga at our gym on monday night and went for a bike ride tonight on a trail near our house. A year ago, I would have expected to see people who look like me, hoping that I wouldn't appear to be too much like them (you know, white). Tonight, I started to open my eyes. I rode past a white woman running, short dark hair and a marathon shirt. I wonder what her story is. An older man with dark skin, skin worn by age and the sun and the first thing I see that tells me who his mother or father might have been. He rode slowly against the wind with dirty jeans and a few jackets, and smiled at me as I passed. I wonder what his story is. The more comfortable I feel being white, the more I am able to see those I pass and be present enough to think of their stories. 

My friend reminded me last night that "those who are ignorant of their traditions are slaves to them"...and he is right. The more aware I become, the more I can see those around me, and praise God that they, too, were designed exactly as beautifully intended. 

I am white, and I enjoy yoga.

bear and co.

My husbands parenting words: "The kindness of dad should lead you to not want to do those things..." I love how he speaks to our 9 month old like he understands Romans 2:4. I laugh, but it will be awesome if Bear grows up to love obedience because of God's kindness leading him there away from his wrath. This is what God has done for us in Christ Jesus. I often just want to manage behavior, even with my infant. God's kindness leads me to repentance as my son stuffs his mouth full of a leaf from our neighbors tree.

We have been in Denver for 2 and a half years now, and things are getting real. The first year was a blur of adventure, excitement, newness, pain, and growing frustration. The second year was rebuilding and learning to be honest with ourselves. Over the past few months we have moved into a place of both grieving and rootedness. Grieving the loss of being near family and friends, the ones who know us, celebrate us, and taught us to explore and love life. Things are quite different here in Denver than they were in Tennessee, and as we settle in for the long haul moving past newness and into the painful realities of uprooting our lives there, we are becoming grateful for what God has provided here. We have a true family around us in our gospel community group through church. God has provided a safe home with neighbors to love and serve, and who like us and invest in our life. God has loved us faithfully and encouraged us along the 3 years of starting a ministry. God has kept our son healthy for the most part, and his sweet spirit is a gift to our daily life.

We are settling into a difficult season in ministry, as we continue to pioneer Destino at a campus with a high turn-over rate. We are so thankful for the dear students we meet and have a chance to know and grow with, but certainly days seem to get longer and we are tired. For me (Kayla), balancing work and home life with a son proves to be challenging (every parent now nods and sighs in agreement). To all of you who give to the ministry and continue to encourage us with your prayers and notes, please know how we long to see you and thank you face to face. It's your encouragement to reminds us to hold fast to God's promise and call to love students with Christ's love and share the Gospel that keeps us all hoping.

By popular demand, here are some photos of Bear over the last few months. Month 8 was astounding, he really is becoming a little boy.

Not his favorite place to be, but as long as he has something in his mouth... 7 months

Sassy like his momma. The boy loves to eat.

Starting to move from army crawl to hands and knees! And so it begins... 7.5 months!

Hanging out on the front porch with our sweet friend in Destino!

Eating finger foods and LOVIN IT! 8 months

Morning face, when did sleeping in mean 7 am?

Getting the hang of crawling! Right at 8 months!

His favorite place :: the front porch, home of tiny holes in the concrete filled with dirt! 

Getting really good at climbing! 8 months

Destino Rocky Mountain Getaway

The human knot at Destino RMGA

Santiago's picnic style. Yes, we let him try some...and he loved it.

Dad & Bear in the front lawn, look at that beautiful grass! (9 months tomorrow!) 

Bear at 5.5 months

Wow. I cannot believe how fast babies grow. It's unbelievable! Cai Bear (our nickname for our son) is 5.5 months now. Just look at him at 10 days old compared to a week ago. We are so thankful to God for this gift of him and of raising him. I mean, look at those little chicken legs...not so anymore! He is outgrowing 9 mos clothes everyday now. I look forward to the doctors visit in a few weeks to see how much my arms are lifting.

These days Bear is into everything. He is trying desperately to crawl and can now army scoot forward on his belly. It's comical as he grunts and groans his way through it trying to grab something desirable in front of him (usually a tag on one of his stuffed animals: puma & dino). This past week must have been a developmental boost since he is learning something new everyday. Spitting, new noises, sticking his tongue out, gaining more balance on sitting up, and now the scoot. He is exhausted long before nap and bed times and our window is small these days. 

He is in daycare for half-days each day during the week as we are in classes for CRU. We are nearing the 2 week mark and he is going just fine. The caregivers are great and they love him. No matter how his day is going, he always seems to smile through it and not complain. I'm so proud of who God has made him to be already.

We are finally on a good rhthym, which says a lot for a first year family. We've gotten into grooves before, but I think Bear is finally old enough to be consistent (I say that, and it will change tomorrow...such is life in the first year, huh?!). I remind myself everyday of the blessing that each season brings, and that those hard ones WILL fade into better ones. Bear is sleeping through the night still, and his naps are in a good groove even at daycare. The women have worked tirelessly to get all of their little ones to nap. Impressive. One of his leaders described him perfectly when talking about naps at daycare, "We are learning all of the kid's kryptonite and Bear's: People." Our kid is so social. He just loves people, and acknowledges and smiles at everyone who walks in a room. You'd think he is like me when you hear it, but really he is his daddy. He is attentive and kind, very focused and aware, and socially present. But he also does really well alone and doesn't complain much. You can definitely see me come out in him as he pitches a fit when a toy is taken. Yup, drama. His eyebrows are constantly on the move and he is a flirt through and through. 

He just got over his first bout with a fever and virus. Stuffy nose and cough in the summer time is no fun on a kid but he rode it out like a champ. 

________

This summer is proving a challenge with us a family in all areas. We are wholly exhausted from the past 3 years of constant movement and change. We didn't expect another move (up to Fort Collins for classes + staff conference) to bring a chance for renewal. I, Kayla, am having a hard time dealing with my anxiety and the reality of the past few years coming down hard on me. Austin is taking a full load of classes and trying to stop and hear from God about space, growth, and healing our family needs. God has been faithful and near, but it sure feels hard right now as we are in an honest space. 

Two verses come to mind as I share this, a reminder for all of us of who God is. We have been memorizing these as a family. I challenge you to do the same in yours. 

Psalm 103: 8-14

⁸ The Lord is merciful and gracious,
    slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
⁹ He will not always chide,
    nor will he keep his anger forever.
¹⁰ He does not deal with us according to our sins,
    nor repay us according to our iniquities.

¹¹ For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
    so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
¹² as far as the east is from the west,
    so far does he remove our transgressions from us.
¹³ As a father shows compassion to his children,
    so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him.
¹⁴ For he knows our frame;
    he remembers that we are dust.

Psalm 18:30-31

³⁰ This God—his way is perfect;
    the word of the Lord proves true;
    he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him.

³¹ For who is God, but the Lord?
    And who is a rock, except our God?—

Walk Close Beside Me

She has no glass around her now. She knows the deep blows of frailty and ease in giving up. Gently, she reveals her heartache, sweeping back her thin hair and with it her fear and timidity. Always the waiting, she has chosen what is good and refused to be calloused. I see in her  the brink of restoration, like green peeking through the ground in Spring. 

She refers to him as lover. No, not this broken man, but this One who beckons her to follow. She sees vineyards ahead, knowing His promise is unchanging. The vows he made to her long ago, were said and done, forever to be kept by His undying love. His eyes are set on hers as he leads her along this dusty valley road. Though she often looks away at passerby's, his strong arm pulls her in once again. Into this forever, in just a little while. 

________________________________

He will allure her, 

He will pursue her, call her out. 

To wilderness, with flowers in his hand.

She is responding, beat up and hurting,

Deserving death. 

Offerings of life are found instead.

She will sing, she will sing, O to You.

She will sing as in the days of youth.

As you lead her away,

to valleys low,

to Acres of Hope. 

Here in the Valley,

walk close beside me.

Don't look back,

for love is growing Vineyards up ahead.

You have called me Master,

I know you're in the dark here.

Call me Friend,

and call me Lover. Marry me for good.

{Acres of Hope, Shane & Shane}

 

"keep me first"

I need to start by saying I am only 26 years old. Not even a full 3 decades yet. My heart is overwhelmed with thankfulness as I sit on our front porch, belonging to the house and piece of land we steward. A sweet and sleeping baby lays in his crib, mahogany frame given to us by a giving mother-in-law, not too far from me. Today we purchased an SUV, all of you who know me are aware of my timidity in sharing my taking part in the so-called, hollow american dream. God has led us to this, as much as I fight. We have big things coming up in our life, all of which we feel God has led us to and is bringing his kingdom through. I cannot be more thankful in this moment. Most of all, I am giving thanks to God for each of our friends and family who have supported us, in all things. We would not be where we are without your deep faithfulness and care for us.

THANK YOU, JESUS. AND THANK YOU, FRIENDS.

Loving Neighbor...Loving Self?

Heavy eyelids read across the lines carefully, as if never before. I turned my head left onto the cool pillow, begging for a pause in his own reading.

"Do you have to love yourself to love your neighbor?"

We've been pouring over textbooks in preparation for summer seminary classes. Late night readings after long days. Jesus intended this night to press into our hearts. 

"Yes, K. I know it seems contrary, but why else would Jesus have said it? In loving ourselves we are receiving the gospel and knowing the grace we have been shown. It's the only way we can turn and extend it to others."

Big sigh.

"Do you love yourself, Kayla?" 

Facing the white ceiling, I knew the answer. I wanted to say anything but no, mostly not to admit my own lack of understanding the fullness of the gospel. I mean, I am a minister after all. I tell students, friends, and family alike that they are worthy of love and acceptance because Jesus gives them worth. Turning back toward him, I met gentle eyes waiting patiently for an answer. 

"No, most of the time I don't love myself. I'm not sure I know how to." It felt freeing. Everyone knows I struggle with self-confidence. Well, anyone I have let close enough. How can I love my Sammy or Sheila, our neighbors, without getting past self-dissapointment? I will only be looking out for myself, and ironically, only truly caring for myself. I have many idols: comfort, control, approval. It seems holy to not like myself, even. I am reminded of Brennan Manning's thoughts on this subject when he says, "True humility is not self-loathing, but self-forgetfulness." How can I forget myself when I am so consumed by the fear that everyone else will? 

I now face the door across the room. Just behind it lays a little boy who is teaching me how much I love myself, not as God does but as my sinful heart demands. Jesus, teach me how to love myself as you see me. Teach me to love my neighbor as I love myself, your beloved. 

______________________

As a follow up to yesterday's post, I wanted to mention how overwhelmed with support and care I received from many of your comments. I had the chance to talk to my dear friend last night, a true reminder that we are not too far away and are certainly not alone. Also, I believe (it's so hard to tell) I spotted a white speck on Malacai's lower gum ridge. 

Today has been super fun. We woke up late and went straight to work around the house and outside. We are reseeding our backyard! Here's to many future days and nights looking out at a grassy yard.

Some Saturday Fun Photos:

You're so LUCKY!!

I loathe these words. I cannot imagine any words that distance a relationship faster as a mom. I've said it, too. It seems encouraging.

Yes, my son does sleep through the night. Yes, he does weigh as much as a small hippo. Yet, my mind is still full of self-blame, confusion, and longing. I am still tired. I am still lonely. I tell myself every day that this is a phase, to enjoy these moments with him, and things will get easier. I know what is true, but what I need is for people to pull me closer. It seems we push out those we least understand. I do it, too. If I think someone has it together, I certainly don't lean in and learn their secrets...I send them out the door praying they didn't stay long enough to find out I'm nothing like them.

I cannot tell you how often I hear, "You are so lucky! Be thankful!" Translation in my head: "I don't (won't) hear any of your complaints because your life is so seemingly easy." For a long time, I LOVED hear these words. They fed me, and told me I was a great mom. Right? Isn't our children's behavior the DIRECT influence of our amazing abilities as parents? Then everything came crashing down.

To tell you the truth, these past three weeks have been some of my hardest. I have dealt with death, loss, leaving, and yet this seems to get under my skin. Malacai is going through, what I assume, is the 4 month regression, or the 4 month "wakeful". It all started one night about 3 weeks ago. He began waking up in the night to eat, which turned into waking up to play and laugh and cry...and anything to get me in the room. It then spilled over into the days. Naps became shorter. He became harder and harder to get soothed and asleep for naps. Anytime I would lay him down...boom...awake. After a week of waking up constantly at night, we decided to let him cry.[ I actually thought we would have a kid who didn't need to sleep to fall asleep.] Making this decision was extremely difficult. I still hear Cai screaming in my ears long after he is asleep. It haunts me. I'm not sure hearing my son cry will ever get easy. It's necessary for him. Though, it does get much easier with each day. After one night of crying to sleep, Cai slept through the night again. He wakes up every once and a while, but now is able to soothe himself again.

Now there are the naps. Three weeks. It may not seem very long, but, well, it is. Progressively all of our tactics have melted away. Music. In bed early. Rocking. Swing. Paci. Darkness. Eating is all we have left.

EATING IS ALL WE HAVE LEFT.

The guilt creeps up my neck. I want to delete it. Sure, there is nothing wrong with feeding your child to sleep, giving them a bottle to get them drowsy. But it feels like desperation to me, at the end of a long list of options that won't help my son. I hear the critics in my head. I hear the others who say, "oh, that's just fine! It's wonderful to have him on you. These days will be gone before you know it!" Ok, yes. That is true. But I am so tired of sitting in a dark room, alone, praying I don't cough and wake him up.

I'd love a cup of coffee.
Or a shower.

So...what do I do? Austin and I were sitting in the nursery, in the dark of course, holding Cai and whispering.

"We need to see this season as wonderful, too" Austin says, "But I have no idea how."

Abundant life has to include perspective changes and rejoicing in hard seasons, I thought.

So, we call on Jesus again and ask for help. We need different eyes and ears, the same difference we are praying for Cai to discover when He knows Jesus. And somehow this hope, the hope of Jesus, let's me lift my head.

Sure enough, I'm not just lucky, I'm really, really blessed. For one, my son looks elated after eating and falling asleep (see photo above). And more importantly, Jesus is for real.

Keen Hearing, Heightened Senses

Rustle. Stirring. Snort. Wriggle. Babbling. Grunt. 1...2...3....4...5...Ok, he's still breathing. I can now hear everything. I thought I had ears like a dog before Malacai entered our story, but I would now describe my hearing as keen to say the least. All my senses are on overload, and my emotions...well, let's leave that out of this blog for another day. I cannot believe little Cai will be a month old tomorrow. God has been so good to us. God gave me a word the other day: Grounded. I'm nervous to even write it in public because of the potential of growth that could be coming my way.

The hardest day of being a new mom happened 2 weeks ago. An abscess was growing large on my tailbone, and Malacai had finally fallen asleep in his swing. I was in tears, knees on our hand-made wooden bench with my arms propping up my exhausted body over the table. The words of God could not seep into my eyes, mind, heart, fast enough. "they have forsaken me, the fountain of Living Water..." I have been doing once again the very thing Jeremiah warned us against. I had built my cistern, full of cracks and holes, to catch lifeless water from (the appearance of) being "supermom". I want control, and what I mean is...I want to control my life. I want to run the show, and I want people to know that I know what I'm doing (ok moms, laugh with me now). I think the whole point so far of being a mother is learning just that: you are not in control, your life is not your own. I have to confess, at 2 weeks old I was concerned about getting my son on a schedule so other moms wouldn't be disappointed in me. We finally got to the root of our "should we give him a pacifier?" issue when we realized we both wanted to prove we could be good parents without it. Ugly sin showing it's face.

In tears bent over the Word of God once again, I wondered how I would look to the Living Water instead of my own ways. I wondered how I could learn to be a Godly parent when it seems so inexplicable. God then spoke through Jesus to my heart when he said, "To find your life, you must lose it. To lose your life you will find it." Oh, this is where life is found. In my loss of self, I find my greatest joy and abundant life - in Jesus alone. Becoming a mommy sure does that for you.

My daily desperation finds its peace when I am in tears, huddled over my son speaking words of life like "His power is made perfect in our weakness...therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weaknesses..." and "Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, my steadfast love will never leave you, nor my covenant of peace forsake you" DEEP BREATH. Words of life over me and my son as we play alone all day, usually left only with my thoughts and a sweet face staring back at me.

I am so thankful our story has a good Author, and I can trust Him with each day. My joy is found Him. My abscess eventually got taken care of (praise Jesus!), we are getting much more sleep these days, my mom came in town and blessed us deeply with encouragement and companionship, and most days I begin and end with laughter. God has written such a good story.

Eventually, Malacai woke up from his sleep and pulled me away from hovering over the Word. I picked him up and walked over to the window where I saw our neighbors tree. I asked God for a word for me. I initially thought "rooted" would be a good word, but that is not the one God had in mind. I'm not ready to be rooted. I need solid ground, good soil. Grounded. I can only imagine what Yahweh has in store this year.

themelioō "to lay the foundation, to found. To make stable, establish.