Shannon S. McKee

musings and moments

Permission to Name the Tensions and Sit in Them

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Caleb moved out last month. It was a good moving out. It was time. He’s in a good place in life – really growing into the man we knew he’d become. He has an ideal living situation. He’s learning to manage work, friends, involvement in his church, and finishing school; we’re thrilled to see him navigating those things well.

So, we knew moving out would help him flourish. He knew it too. We all agreed it was time. We planned for it. Discussed it. Helped him think through all of the things. Set a date.

We knew in both head and heart that it was time. But, you know, Rick and I (ok, mostly me) still cried a bit when we talked about it and prayed for him. Every once in a while, we questioned it and wondered if we should push the timetable back.

But we didn’t. We stuck with the plan that all three of us agreed was best. And it’s been such a good decision. He’s rocking it and really rising to the extra weight of responsibility. And, to be honest, having one less person in the house does simplify some things (and make the leftovers last longer!). So, we’re all embracing this new season.

That doesn’t mean we haven’t been a little bit melancholy at times. Like when I found this pile that had somehow survived all the toy purges and was still in his room.

Or when we sat down for Chef Rick night and he couldn’t come because of work. Or when we walk by his room and know he’s not in it anymore. Or when Madison has no one to raid the pantry with late at night. Or when Taco the Dog has to find a new napping spot because his bed isn’t there for her.

It’s been a sweet transition – I haven’t even cried much. And, yet, it’s been a little bit bitter too.

Why do I tell you all of this? Because I want you to know that it’s OK to have conflicting emotions about things. When change comes or people disappoint you or you have to make a hard decision about the people in your life or you leave one job for another or you find yourself celebrating special occasions in new ways because of COVID-19… Whatever you’re facing right now, I want you to know that it’s OK to have conflicting emotions. Life is not always so cut-and-dried. Few life events are either all good or all bad. Most of them are nuanced and complicated. And sometimes we feel like we should know exactly what to do with all that nuance. Like we should have it all mastered.

But, we usually don’t so we fake it. Or we shove some of the emotions down. Or we go along to get along. Can I just give you permission to sit in competing emotions? To feel both happy and sad as you look back on 2020. Has it given us some gifts like slowing down and simplifying gatherings? Have we learned that we can have beautiful, meaning-filled weddings without having a blowout reception? Have we rediscovered things like hiking and being outside? Have we learned that being at home has its positives? Have some of us returned to creative pursuits like reading or sewing or making art? Have we learned to appreciate hugs and gathering with friends at new levels because of their absence? Have we learned that we don’t actually WANT to lose our small businesses? Have we learned that we have hard but worthy work to do in the area of racial reconciliation? Yes. All of those things are good things from 2020.

But this season has also been incredibly draining and difficult. It has been hurtful. It has been polarizing. It has been fearful. Mental health issues and suicide are at a high. Alcohol sales are up. Worthy groups like AA have stopped meeting and giving out their coins. Celebrations have been hampered. People have died in nursing homes – because of loneliness not COVID. Families who need in-home care for a loved one have been abandoned. We can’t SEE each other and we have to shout to our cashiers. Small businesses are barely hanging on – which means that the families behind them are struggling to pay their bills. Many shops and restaurants are just gone, leaving us with the big box stores only. Children are sitting in front of computer screens ALL DAY. Arguments on social media are more divisive and hurtful than ever. Some people have died from an illness we didn’t even know about a year ago. Foster care and domestic abuse cases are harder to document because being shut up at home isn’t safe and cozy for everyone. Relationships are feeling the weight of all these pressures. And IT IS HARD.

We hold these things in tension. The good AND the hard. I want to encourage you to name them both. To acknowledge all the nuances and feelings. Don’t just stuff them or dismiss them because they don’t fit into a neat package. The longer I live and the more I study the Bible, the more convinced I am that very few situations fit neatly into columns labeled “good” or “bad”. Most things in this broken world are a mixed bag. Nuanced. The person you love most in the world has his or her dark side. Some of your happiest memories had moments of stress or disappointment woven into them.

It’s OK to acknowledge and feel both. Hold them in tension. Let God work through both to shape you more into the likeness of His breathtaking Son. Can we let Him do that work as we reflect on 2020 and move further into 2021?

You really can linger over the pile of green, army guys with melancholy AND cheer him on in his new adventure at the same time. Welcome both emotions in, name them, and give them back to God knowing that He who holds them is trustworthy and purely, truly good.

The Gratitude Tree: Our November Tradition

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As I write, the reds and golds of Autumn are just barely holding out. The trees are releasing the last of the most vibrant leaves. They float to the ground, their fading colors blanketing the earth.

But there is one lonely tree that has only just begun to show its colors. This month, her buds will open and the colors will begin a most vibrant month-long display. By November’s end she will be the most beautiful of all trees.

Her branches ablaze with color. Her “leaves” pouring forth praises to the One who brings her branches to their own kind of life.

We call her the Gratitude Tree.

She’s part of the reason I don’t decorate for Christmas at all until the day after Thanksgiving. I need these weeks to linger over Autumn with gratitude. To join with nature in preparing my heart and home for winter. To me, there is something sacred about this waiting after the hubbub of Halloween and its distractions.

I approach it with intentionality and its own kind of purpose. I light candles more often. I revisit some of my daily rhythms. And I count gratitude. I add a new “leaf” to the tree each day. The rest of the family adds as they feel moved and guests in our home often participate too. It’s a tradition we started somewhere around 2010. To be honest, some years have been more successful than others (I’m not always the stellar on follow-thru as some of you may know).

In her book, One Thousand Gifts, Ann Voskamp captures the spirit of my November hopes well. She says, “Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I’ve ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing…. Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away.”

August, September, and October are usually busy months. November is my forced pause. Not just a pause for the pause-sake. But for the express purpose of focusing on gratitude. To slow my roll and notice all the little things in front of me. Ann goes on to say, “Gratitude for the seemingly insignificant—a seed—this plants the giant miracle.”

Some years I continue the practice in a journal even after we take the tree down. I know my propensity to rush and miss things. To focus only on the hard things. To try to dull my ache by keeping my head down and pressing on. Counting gratitude helps me halt some of those joy-crushing tendencies during the other months too.

In many ways, our November tradition seems more important this year than ever. The roots of the Gratitude Tree reach deep into the fabric of our family. Her leaves are the simple testimonies of grace upon grace. Reminders of all the good gifts that we have received this year – even in a year like 2020.

These weeks are a thanksgiving. They prepare us for the Thanksgiving.

 

(In this age of comparison and picture perfect social media and hyper-tribalism, I feel I must add a disclaimer. I just want to say that I don’t think you’re a horrible person if you decorate for Christmas on November 1. This is simply what I do to combat the noise, take a pause, and make the most of my November. I share it to encourage you and to give you a peek into a tradition that has become meaningful for me. Nothing more, nothing less.) 

When Quarantine Brings You Back to Table Life

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One of the things that has given me pause for thanksgiving during this season of the COVID-19 quarantine is a return to family meals.

We used to observe regular family meals here in the McKee household. For most of the elementary years, it was an assumed staple of our homelife. I cooked homemade meals most nights. On the nights that didn’t happen, we had leftovers. Occasionally we ate out or ordered pizza. At some point in there, Rick instituted a weekly ritual called Chef Rick Night. At first it was Mac N Cheese but eventually he started trying his hand at new, made-from-scratch recipes and now he has a rotation that the kids love. But, the main point is that in all of these scenarios, we sat down to eat. Together. Most nights of the week.

I grew up with a strong table life and my mom was quite confident in the kitchen. She passed that value (and its accompanying skills) on to me and it’s just something that has always been part of my homemaking. I really like to create an experience of joy and warmth at the table, often adding extra touches or lighting a candle or playing soft music in the background. This was our norm for a lot of years. (Please don’t let that put you under the pile if that’s NOT your thing. That’s not what this about. You probably have another thing that you do well that I don’t. It’s just that this is my thing.)

It was like that in our home for a lot of years. UNTIL… the kids hit the tween and teen years. Their evenings started to fill up with activity. Which coincided with a period of time in my own heart and life that was not a time of thriving. (I’ll just leave that there.) Needless to say, I stopped really fighting for table life and family meals. I didn’t invite people over as much and I wasn’t being very intentional to bring the McKee Four to the table at the same time. Family meals were happening once or twice a week a week. Maybe?

I could blame that on their schedules. Or our schedules. I could blame it on the drain of the teenage years and the accompanying tension that was sometimes at our table. I could blame it on the demands of launching a new, rapidly growing church. I could blame it on the changes to my home-work balance and schedule. I could blame it on just being sort of bored with the daily grind of cooking.

All of those are legit realities. It was really a mix of all of them. But, the bottom line is that I stopped fighting for that time. I stopped making it a priority and pushing us toward it. Both inwardly as a family and outwardly by inviting others to come into that space with us. It just sort of fell by the wayside, part of the carnage of our modern, busy lifestyle.

In recent months, some of that desire has been rekindled. We’ve been having people over for soup and bread on Sunday nights. I have been returning to planning and creating in the kitchen. I’ve been more motivated to care for my little family in that way. Most importantly, I’ve been reminded that it’s good – not just for our bodies but for our souls as well.

But even with my rekindled desire, there was still the pesky issue of our schedules. How do you stop that train once it is barreling down the tracks? Answer: a pandemic.

Hopefully that’s not what it will always take to get things turned around!! But, sometimes we need a do-over and it takes something big to get us there. I have to admit that we’ve been at the table together a lot more during this difficult season. And for that, I’m thankful.

Joanne Thompson’s book, Table Life, speaks much of what is in my heart regarding this return to the table. Things I have long held to be true. Sadly, I just haven’t practiced them as much in recent years. This season has reminded how much I do really love the Table Life aspect of community and nourishment.

In her chapter, Called to Table Life, Joanne says it this way:

Once upon many meals, Jesus – the strong man on a mission to redeem the world – took time to eat dinner. Imagine the satisfied grin on his suntanned face as he ate crispy fried fish and plump pomegranate seeds. Christ lived table life not on a television stage, but in Judean homes. Jesus needed  food, but his lifestyle also demonstrated a passionate preference for the table as an expression of the kingdom. His practice of eating meals with others in their homes was an answer to the prayer he taught his disciples, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Over meals, he connected with family, strangers, skeptics, and friends. Across the table, hearts made for relationship came alive.

My heart leaps at that line: across the table, hearts made for relationship came alive! We’ve been experiencing a bit of that in this crazy first half of 2020. And as I look to count gratitude in the midst of this challenging “Shelter In Place” season, that is one of things I’ve added to my list.

What about you? How has God used this time to rekindle one of your passions or personal disciplines?