I still make so many things so complicated. But I’m learning simplicity.
Tonight I prepared a few favorite foods and shared them with people I love. Recipes we’ve had before but changed up tonight based on the ingredients I had available. A simple plate of halva shared over conversation for dessert.
The simplicity of nourishing our bodies and our relationships at a shared table can be holy.
The simplicity of the dinner table can be a sacred space of connection.
The simplicity of a short after-dinner walk with the warmth of spring and the light of the evening stars can be hallowed ground.
This is part of what I want to walk towards. There are so many places that life is complicated and hard and draining. Simplicity lets me breathe in these moments, preparing my body, mind and soul to continue to face the spaces that are complicated, hard and draining.
It was one of my favorites as a child, and one of my favorites to read to my own children – probably in part because I love Maurice Sendak’s illustrations. In the chapter, “What Will I Wear,” Little Bear looks out the window at the falling snow and even before he steps out into it, he tells his Momma, “Momma I’m cold, I want something to put on.”
Momma Bear sews him a hat and sends him out to play in the snow.
Soon he returns, still cold. His Momma gives him another layer and sends him back out.
Every time he goes out to play, he comes back, asking for more, and every time his Momma puts down what she is working on and sews him another layer – a hat, then a coat, and eventually even snow pants. Still, Little Bear returns cold.
Finally, Momma Bear stops and considers all that she has put on him. She offers Little Bear one last solution, a fur coat. YES, says Little Bear. But instead of adding another layer, one by one she removes all the layers she had covered him with that day.
Look, at your fur coat. Now you will not be cold, she told him.
And he wasn’t.
All Little Bear needed was the fur coat he was born with. It was enough, and every layer added detracted from it.
Throughout this uncovering project, I can see spaces in my home, and my life, filled with my own versions of those hats, snow pants, etc.
How many times have I seen my kids be interested in something and respond by burying them under a mound of supplies I think they may “need” to pursue that interest, completely overwhelming them and stifling creativity instead of nurturing it?
How many times have I tried to solve problems by buying more stuff, adding more layers?
Then the even harder questions:
What are the layers that have been put on me, and I have put on myself, and others, to make me and/or my spirituality ‘enough?’
I asked a few friends who grew up in the church to share things they were told were expected of them as ‘christian’ women. From their experiences (and mine), we have been told, to be a ‘christian’ woman, we must:
Cook Sew Entertain Be quiet Be friendly Be kind Be generous Always be prepared to give an answer to explain your faith Don’t preach or teach Hide your doubts Dress modestly Attract a husband Praise (and defend) your husband Have children Take care of the children Teach Sunday School Keep the children quiet too Braid your hair Don’t be concerned with braided hair Proverbs 31 in the streets and Song of Solomon in the sheets Be submissive, be a helpmate
Some of the things on this list may perhaps lead to women who are more well-behaved (in some people’s minds and according to some people’s standards). Some of these things may even make some women feel more well-liked or accepted (in certain circles).
But many of the items on this list are far too often used as tools of control and manipulation, perpetuating toxicity and abuse in many church communities.
As a follower of Christ, I believe I am to be continually growing and maturing, following the example of Christ. This list, however, does not make us Christian or make us any more or less loved by God.
Like Little Bear, each successive layer just makes us colder, as they cover up how we were created to thrive. The uncovering process I’m engaging in, the search for real, is the hard work of stripping away all the layers of human expectation, often one by one, to reveal my perfectly designed fur coat, which has been hiding underneath the entire time.
Uncovering Real 