On Our Way To Crazy

It had been a rough morning. She had decided that instead of chewing on her hands when she was hungry or rubbing her eyes when she was tired she would just skip straight to the screaming. Oh, the screaming. None of my usual tricks – the mirror, running the faucet, going outside, looking at the ceiling fan – were working. SHE. WAS. NOT. HAVING. IT.

She was exhausted. I was exhausted. We were both crying. I don’t know who was more upset.

I’d been carrying her around the house for an hour. My arms were sore, my back ached, my head hurt. I opened the front door to let her look outside at the world. I’m sure we were a sight for the neighbors, her in just a diaper with a red face and wide open mouth, me in my sweats and nursing tank with one side unhooked after a failed nursing attempt and a towel on my head. Two girls at the end of their ropes.

Something about it worked for her, though. The screams got shorter, then quieter, then turned into whimpers. Her hands found their way into her mouth. I felt her little body relax into me, her head settle on my chest. Her big teary eyes watching the cars drive by. She took a deep breath. I took a deep breath.

I don’t talk a lot about holy moments. I don’t recognize them often. But standing there in the doorway, disheveled and tired and aching, I felt it. It wasn’t beautiful or graceful or sweet. It was loud and hard and overwhelming.

She is mine. To raise and help and feed and provide for. While I am learning how to be her mom, she is learning how to be, period. She already has problems I can’t fix. But I can hold her and love her and listen to her, even when all she can do is scream.

After things were settled and I put her down to nap, I checked my phone. My mom had called, right in the middle of it all, just to check on me. While I was taking care of my girl, my mom was taking care of hers.

The season and practice of Lent has always been a tough on for me. I’ve often given things up – sweets, soda, fast food, reading blogs, shopping. Sometimes I’ve even tried to replace those things with something positive, usually prayer or Bible reading. But I’ve never really put my soul into it. It was just something I did.

In the sermon on Sunday, our pastor talked about Lent as an opportunity. A time to take apart the faith we live with every day and look at it a little more closely. Spread out all the pieces, clean them up, make sure they’re still supposed to be there. See if the faith you hold onto still rings true in your life. And, if it doesn’t, dig into that. Take the parts that don’t resonate with you anymore and hold them up. Examine them.

We ended with the Apostle’s Creed and Communion. Before reciting, he encouraged us to really see the words we were saying, and if something didn’t feel right, don’t say that part. Let yourself be honest about where you are. Don’t just go through the motions and sign on to something you’re not so sure about.

So I’m going to try.

I’m not too worried about whether or not Mary was a virgin, or if the garden story is a metaphor, or which parts of Paul are meant to be taken in context. I feel pretty settled on how I view the Bible and what we’re supposed to do with it.

The parts of my faith that need to be examined are the personal ones. See, I am a cynical person. Sarcastic, defensive, uncomfortable with earnestness. I don’t feel an emotional attachment to God. I believe in God, and I believe life is spiritual, and I believe that Jesus is the example of what the body is supposed to do and be. But I don’t know what I think about God being personal.

It used to bum me out when people would talk about how God answered their prayers, or how they could look back at a situation and see how God had guided them through. How he had looked out for them, or kept them safe, or blessed them with a job or a spouse or a child or a new house or a parking space. It all just feels so random… not all believers get those things, and all kinds of people who want nothing to do with God have the same things happen to them. The only conclusion I can come to is that God’s not in the business of affecting those kinds of changes for us. They just happen.

And I’m okay with that. I think I’m more comfortable with a God who doesn’t play favorites or operate randomly. But what it has resulted in is a lack of personal devotion and a cynical heart. Even when I do feel an emotional pull, usually during prayer or music in a church service, I’m pretty quick to write it off. It’s easy to get emotional in a dimly lit room with beautiful music being performed, right? It’s not real.

I think I may have swung too far in the opposite direction. But I think God has room for me there, too.

So my goal for Lent is to try to be more open. Can you give up cynicism for Lent? Because I’m going to try. Cynicism and Chick-Fil-a. Those waffle fries are gonna be the death of me.

I cannot sing. At all. I like to sing, and I will bust out a mean duet with Bonnie Raitt when I’m alone in my car, but it’s not anything that should be shared with the world.

Campbell, though, is a different story. I sing to her ALL THE TIME. She’s too young to know better (or at least too young to complain about it) so I sing to her every chance I get. While we dance around the living room, while I’m trying to settle her down, while I’m putting on my makeup.

I’ve made up a few original songs for her. My first hit was titled “Campbell Likes to Pee on Everything”. Soon after came the critically acclaimed follow-up single, “Air Out Your Booty.” Look for my duet with Skrillex at the 2013 Grammys.

The most sung songs, however, are covers. I like to take an existing song and rework the lyrics to make it about her. It all started with my mom (Big Momma), who penned this version of “Hey, Good Lookin’” by Hank Williams:

Hey, good lookin’
whatcha got cookin’
How’s about cookin’ something up with me
I said hey, sweet baby
don’t you say maybe
how’s about keeping steady company
I got a hot rod Saturn and a two-dollar bill
And I know a spot right over the hill
They got swaddle diapers and the dancing is free
If you wanna have fun come along with me

I cover that one all the time, and I don’t give credit to my mom or to Hank. I claim it as my own. I dare them to sue me.

Other favorites include “Campbell Lou” sung to the tune of “Peggy Sue”, “Campbell Girl”, sung to the tune of “Candy Girl”, and the theme song to the TV show The New Girl, in which I replace the word “Jess” with the word “Toots”.

She also hears a lot lalas and mmmmmms and ohohohs from various Avett Brothers, The Head and the Heart and, don’t judge me, New Kids on the Block songs. Because she does, in fact, got the right stuff.

I hope music is important to her as she grows up. I want it to feel like home, the way it does for me. The music I grew up listening to with my parents is really important to me. It’s where I came from. I want the same thing for her. To be the girl at the party who knows all the words to whatever the equivalent of classic rock will be when she’s an adult. To think Josh Ritter and David Gray are as cool as I think Stevie Nicks and Carole King are. To get it. And if offkey versions of “Campbell Girl” (this time to the tune of “Gracie Girl” by Ben Folds) help her get there, I’ll sing it every day.