The Lamest Advice

Before Milo was born, a lot of parents offered us their advice. Some of it was helpful. Plenty of it bugged. There is one bit that is seared into my memory because it came from so many different people. Parents (generally ones who have already weathered the treachery of the first year) would smugly smile and say to us, “Sleep now while you can.”

If you ask me, this is shitty advice. Any dummy knows you can’t actually stock up on sleep. It would inspire a sense of dread in us about the impending sleep deprivation and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.

They were right, of course. Sleeping more than 4-5 hours in a row is a thing of the past. We are endlessly exhausted. Even though the warnings about how hard it would be were technically correct, no one could prepare my lone heart for the fact that it was about to start beating for this little man.

Being pregnant was pretty tough. I gained 45 (okay 50) pounds. Seriously, 50 pounds. Milo weighed 8 lbs. 6 oz. when he was born. You do the math. I work downtown, so every day I hauled myself on the train to Union Station, on the Red Line to Pershing Square, and then up the hill to the NationBuilder offices at the Biltmore. Have you ever smelled downtown LA? That’s no good on a decent day. Try walking through a neighborhood that smells like a combination of urine and trash at 8 weeks pregnant. Then, a 30-hour induced labor that for all intents and purposes, sucked. All that to say – growing a human was some hard stuff.


 But those kicks. And that heartbeat. The look on my parents’ faces when we told them they were going to be grandparents. The memory of my Joey by my side for every minute of the labor and delivery. The smell of Milo’s head right after he was born.

Milo at 3 weeks, refusing to sleep.

The first 3 weeks of Milo’s life were so freaking hard. Breastfeeding was brutal. La Leche League can kiss my ass. I don’t care how good the latch is, that shit hurts. The unsolvable crying that would start up at 6pm and wrap up around midnight (if we were lucky). And nobody, I mean nobody, could have prepared us for that level of sleep deprivation. But I maintain – you know what wasn’t helpful? Smug well-rested parents having told us that we should stock up on sleep.

It was hard, for reals. No getting around that one.

But you guys, my son. My gorgeous son. He is a real live person and the most fantastic one I’ve ever met. The smile when he sees me, the rolls on those thighs, the brightness in his eyes, the way he babbles and sings himself to sleep. My heart beats for this guy.

I’m still so tired all the time. I go to work and come home tired. I play with my son and try to help him stay happy until he goes to bed. I go to sleep and wake up to feed him. Then I wake up at 5:30am to go to work and do it all again. I am exhausted. But you guys, my son.

Sometimes I want a day to myself. Sometimes I wish we had a person who lived with us who could do all the hard work of taking care of a baby while we just got to enjoy the baby smiles and coos. This season is the most relentlessly tiring of my life. I am emptied every day. But every day I find myself filled again with meaning and love.

I am so exhausted. But you guys, my son.

Kicking at Peace

There is this moment with my son – when he is in his swing and I can tell he’s tired but doesn’t want to sleep. I put the pacifier in his mouth, he fights it and moves his head around. But the moment always comes, when he starts working on that pacifier with a vengeance, his eyes roll back in his head, and sleep takes him. This is the most satisfying moment of my day, because whether or not he thinks he wants it, I’ve helped my Milo find peace and rest.

I feel a little like him in that middle moment all the time, the one where comfort and rest are offered, and I kick them off thinking I don’t want them. But I need them.

So I fill up the spaces in my life. Checking email. Looking at my phone. Reading baby forums that I kind of hate. Scrolling through social media. Checking email again. Never surrendering to the quiet places in life. And then complaining about being tired.

The state of my soul is directly linked to the space I give it.

If I had to give my faith a color, I’d say that over the course of the last few years, it’s turned to a purplish gray. More gray than purple. It used to be pretty bright, maybe even teal. I’m not even sure what it is I’m looking for anymore, and have serious doubts about my faith ever becoming that bright, untarnished teal again. But my hope and prayer is that maybe if I start giving my soul a little space again (this is directly tied to the minutes in every day that I don’t look at my cell phone), the colors can start to wake back up.

As many times as I try to kick them away, peace and rest for my tired soul call my name.

I suck at Lent

Anyone who knows me at any level beyond the surface is pretty aware of the fact that my life group is one of the best things in my life. I’ve done some things in my 29 years. This life group feels like the most important thing I’ve done. I’ve had the privilege of leading these women who have become my best friends for nearly 3 ½ years in “doing life together.”

Normally we spend the entire time catching up on each other’s lives, sparing no detail. Tonight I decided that instead of our normal routine we should read the Gospel story about Jesus in Gethsemane, the crucifixion, and his burial and then take communion together. I then wanted the ladies to each share where they see themselves in this story, in reference to Gethsemane or the cross. The realization that I came to for my own life while they were sharing feels important to me, so I’m writing it down tonight so that I don’t forget.

I feel murky. I’m frustrated about feeling murky. I had really high hopes for Lent this year. I’m big on Lent. I dig the idea of doing something to prepare your heart for Easter. For most of my life, the significant points for Easter for me were the new dress and shoes, and the doubling of the congregation for the weekend. Easter is like the Super Bowl for pastors. So in my 20’s, I’ve really liked discovering new ways to bring meaning to this day of days. Isn’t the resurrection what this whole thing hinges on?

Here’s what I expected this year: I was going to do such a good job of detoxing my life and quieting the “noise” that distracts me constantly, my life would become so clear by Easter that I could experience the big day in HD. I could wash the windows of my life so that when that sun rises on Easter morning, I would be able to see it better than ever.

As this season has flown by and Good Friday comes closer, I’ve been so disappointed with myself. I stayed off Facebook, which was the original fast. But I wanted to get up every morning for devotions, which ended up happening about twice a week. I wanted to go to church every weekend, which happened about twice a month.

Why are things still murky? Why can’t I ever get my spiritual sunglasses clean? Don’t I want to get the most out of Resurrection Sunday? Don’t I care what Christ did for me? For goodness sake, why do I suck so much at Lent?

Here is what dawned on me this evening with my friends as we unanimously shared our inability to really do a good enough job preparing for Easter – The miracle is not in Lent. The miracle is in Easter. I was frustrated because I could not get my life clean enough for Easter. But Easter is what does the cleaning. All my fasting or not fasting in the world does nothing to change what Christ did and does.

Regardless of where I am in the story, at the cross offering Jesus a drink, mocking with the crowds, or to quote my friend from tonight, 4 towns down and not caring about the event at all – none of this changes the healing, redeeming, awaking, and resurrecting power of the cross. Whether I check the weather channel or not, whether I put on sunscreen or not, the sun will rise.

Easter may feel really powerful and I might bask in the incredible shocker that Christ rose from the dead. Or maybe I’ll drag myself out of bed and go to church with Joey at 6am for a sunrise service and then travel the family circuit eating along the way, and then play some games, and go to bed, and then guiltily at the end of the day think about how I didn’t really think about what all of this means. Both are fine because Christ requires neither for this event.

Nothing I can do will make the resurrection cooler or less cool. I can’t wake up the dead places in my heart so that I will be prepared for God to wake up the dead places of my heart. This is God’s work. While I believe in partnering with him, and creating quiet spaces so that I can be aware of what he is up to in my life, I am newly aware of the fact that what we celebrate this weekend is everything. The cross and resurrection do the cleaning, quieting, waking, and renewing of this life.

To the women in my life group I raise a glass of 2 buck chuck communion wine and say “Ready or not, He is risen.”

Lent and Mercy

Lent is here again. This is the third year in the row I’ve actively practiced it. Every year I walk into Lent with certain expectations. But then, as I intentionally turn down the noise of my life, I’m always surprised at what emerges.

I have yet to see what will emerge this time around, but so far it hasn’t been the sense of peace and quiet I expected. Instead I’m bombarded with images and sounds of the nightmare my Japanese brothers and sisters are living in across the ocean.

One of the key themes of Lent is mortality. The Resurrection has power and inspires joy because it throws hope in the face of death. Easter needs death to really be Easter. I’m feeling the weight of that right now. Hundreds or thousands of people died yesterday when the earth moved. A nuclear reactor threatens to meltdown. Cancer quietly snuck in and took my beautiful grandpa 5 years ago. My beloved friend’s car flipped 10 years ago, taking his life. My moment will come, or worse, that moment will come for people I love. There are beautiful, poetic, theologically correct ways to speak about death and hope. But the reality is – it’s ugly and visceral and shocks and hurts.

I haven’t made peace with death yet. But Henri Nouwen says that “the season of Lent, during which winter and spring struggle with each other for dominance, helps us in a special way to cry out for God’s mercy.” These 40 days are a conversion process, and they begin with a turning. None of walks into this truly ready or finished or polished. We walk in rusty and distracted. But as I turn the volume down, I am struck with my need for God’s mercy, and I cry out for it.

Advent and dog poo

I have the greatest dog in the world. I adopted Jasper from a shelter a year and a half ago and feel grateful for him every day. All he has to do is look at me and I crack up. And he is the best cuddler ever… except for taking over my queen size bed, every night. I walk him every morning, and every night. 94% of the time, I am great at picking up after him. But every once in a while, if it’s a multiple poo kind of walk and I run out of bags, I leave it. Yes, I’m ashamed to admit it. I’m “that” neighbor. It’s a rarity, but it has happened.

This morning I got totally nailed for it. While taking Jasper on the usual stroll down Montecito, a woman in a mini-van from a house I recognize pulled up next to me and said, “My neighbor says you’ve been leaving poop on my lawn.” Uhhhhh… I panicked. I was clearly holding a bag of poop, so there’s evidence that I do pick it up. But in the back of my mind, I knew I was guilty of this offense (but seriously, this has only happened a COUPLE of times). But what was I to do in that moment? I mumbled, I was awkward, I told her I was sorry, and she drove off angry.

Okay, so what are we supposed to do when confronted by the factthat not only are we imperfect, but we’ve made our neighbors lives worse? In my grandiose “It’s a Wonderful Life” daydreams, I like to think that everyone’s life is better because I’m in it. I’m pretty sure this isn’t true all the time, but I at least want to arc in that direction. However, I was, realizing that these neighbors of mine must have a pretty low opinion over me. Because of poo.

I walk of shamed it home, drove to work, and started thinking. What was there to do but offer a real, sincere apology… and cookies? As much as I want to deny it, or justify myself, I needed to apologize, and make it good. So I felt anxious about it all day, but as soon as I got home I revved up the oven and popped in some chocolate chip cookies. Then I sat down with 4 note cards and started writing. At one point I almost talked myself out of it, convinced that normal people just feel kind of bad, gripe about it to their boyfriends (which I did), and move on with their night. But something just kept tugging me. This is the season of Advent, looking forward to Christ incarnated in the world. So here I am in the (literal) mess of the world, what would Christ have me do?

“Dear neighbor, you spoke to me today about… I am ashamed to admit that on a few occasions I have… I am so sorry and promise to never do it again. If you’d like to express further frustration please call me at… May this season be filled with joy and love for you and your family…. Sincerely, Kristin Flores.”

Oh the humiliation of writing an “I’m sorry for dog poo” card! But I did it. I wrote 4 of them actually (3 for the surrounding neighbors), packed up 4 baggies of fresh chocolate chip cookies and set out. On the 3 surrounding houses I left cookies and card and ran. Didn’t really feel like explaining myself there. But at the woman’s house that talked to me, I rang the bell. Lots of big dogs were barking just inside the door, but she finally made it out, and looked completely bewildered to see me.

Unsure of what to do, I just launched in. “You spoke with me, I’m so sorry…” Pretty much a recap of the note. I think I might have looked pretty pathetic standing there in the cold, earnestly apologizing for dog poo while holding a bag of cookies and a note. Finally, as I came to the end of my sorry apology, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and pulled me in for a hug, telling me that the neighbors have actually be doing this to her for a long time, and that they were looking for someone else to blame and that of course it was ok.

Then we shared each others names, and shook hands. This is a neighbor I have lived near for a year and a half, and only now did we meet. It turned into a really beautiful moment that I’m not sure what to do with just yet. It was only after facing up to the ugly dog-poo related offense that we got to connect as humans.

There are about 19 trite morals of the story that I could bust out right now. But I’ll let you use your imagination.

We humans (and stray dogs) sure find each other in the funniest ways.

List #1

Meandering through Target today I had a thought… I have a lot of background guilt in my life for just a few things. There seem to be some recurring players, messages of condemnation that keep popping up about the same issues. Really, they boil down to the following two puzzle pieces: Spiritual and Physical life and upkeep.
While I realize that we never truly arrive, I also know that there are some things we can put in place that will significantly increase the quality and impact of life. So, I present you to my list, and invite you to suggest new list items or join in.

1. Bible
Read daily – This isn’t rocket science here. But I’ve fallen off the wagon in a major way. So I’m starting slow, but I’ll move through Ephesians for the next month or so. And journal. Journaling is important.

Memorize – I am terrible at slowing down. I like to jam through something and move on. I haven’t slowed down enough to memorize scripture in years. But I remember times in my life where I did this, and those scriptures still jump to my mind easily. Galatians 2:20 is always there. So I think it’s time to take advantage of my sedentary work space, and hang a scripture up in front of my desk once a week. Take 20 minutes to memorize it. And marinate in it for the rest of the week. First up is Ephesians 1:4-6.

2. Eat better (i.e. less carbs and sugar) – Like many women I do a lot of tying my self-esteem with my waistline. In some ways I’ve come a long way, thanks to realizing that love surpasses the beauty I see when I look in the mirror. But… this is a health issue. I want healthy bones and organs for a long time. And I want to feel good and energetic. Less diabetes, more life. So, next stop: South Beach Diet. Ugh… I miss bread already.

3. Oral hygiene (floss and Listerine) – I used to floss 2 weeks out of the year. 1 week prior to each dental cleaning (every 6 months) to temporarily toughen up my gums to minimize pain and embarrassment as the dental hygienist realizes how much I suck at flossing. But now I am realizing that flossing is not really for that purpose. Healthy gums people, healthy gums. So there’s that.

4. Continue exercising – I already exercise but I am expanding my horizons beyond 24 Hour Fitness drudgery into mountain biking and trail running.

5. Eat calcium vitamins daily – We all age. In church this week Mark Pickrell said that age is the collision of experience and deterioration. But maybe we don’t need to live on the fast track of deterioration. While admitting that silver hair will come, might as well do as much as possible to avoid broken hips and hump backs.

There you have it. These are the same things I’ve been working on for years. But I’m writing them down and putting them out there, so I’m hoping this marks a new level in working on them. There are a few more important things (get more sleep, serve more, save money monthly), but I didn’t want to overwhelm myself. Those go on the next list. For now, first stop… Ephesians 1:4-6.

Comic Con - Where have you been all my life?

Have you ever come across something for the first time, and realized you’ve been missing it your whole life? This is how I feel about Comic Con. I wish I’d written this blog 2 months ago when it was all still fresh in my mind. But better now than never.

When Joey and I first started dating he told me he’d take me to Comic Con in July. I was into him from minute 1 on New Year’s Eve, but this was still a big selling point. I’d heard of Comic Con. I mostly knew that people dressed up like Storm Troopers and Klingons. Even that was enough to make me want to go. But then I found out it was Mecca for all things pop culture, which I love. I realize a lot of people think Comic Con has sold out… moved away from the true source material… blah blah blah. I loved it.

I’ve always been a person who likes to be around fans. Not fans in anything specific. Just fans. I just love people who love great stuff. Usually if that fandom is not within the sports category these folks are moved to the margins of society (or the lame section of lockers in high school). But at Comic Con, these guys are King.

Of course my brand of poison is in the nerd category. If you’re talking about Lord of the Rings, anything by Joss Whedon, or Star Wars, I’m listening. I love sitting in line to get into the newest movie based off a comic book, mostly for the conversations I get to overhear. At movie theaters, those numbers usually top at a few hundred people. But Comic Con… 150,000 lovers of awesome stuff.

At Comic Con you wait all day (and night) to get into the good panels. This is where we get to see all the awesome actors, actresses, directors, and authors of the sweetest movies coming out in the next year. We did it all. We stayed out all night to get into Hall H on Thursday. Totally worth it to see the Tron Legacy panel and about 8 other rockin’ panels. The Chanel 8 News people came out to the line that night to interview us weirdos about why on earth we would do such a thing. They didn’t have much interest in talking to Joey and me, but only because they didn’t realize how awesome we are.

The panels were sweet. I don’t really feel like I need to write a lot about them. We saw dozens of incredible actors. Harrison Ford came for the FIRST time ever to Comic Con and we got to see that. A guy stabbed another guy with a pen over some sort of seat dispute, we were there for that. We did it all.

But even better than the cool panels and amazing displays in the exhibit hall, were the people. Here’s what stood out to me at Comic Con: there is no hierarchy of cool. It’s just a bunch of people who like cool stuff, coming together to talk about that cool stuff. Fans, true fans. No need to worry about fashion, or hair products, or even hygiene for that matter really (no judgment here). I think a lot of these folks live on a steady diet of hot pockets and Mountain Dew in dark rooms while playing video games. But at Comic Con that’s okay! It’s just people who love stuff, loving it together. This was one of the first places I’ve ever gone where we could get our eyes off of ourselves, and onto more important matters… like the shocking lack of security on the Darth Star.

Comic Con 2011 or bust!!!