Sunday, November 7, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
It's November, and an amazingly beautiful one at that. Today as I took my walk I was thrilled by all the colors of my surroundings: bright, vivid reds; glorious oranges; cheerful and unstoppable golds. Everything seemed to shout in full voice, "There is a God!" Dare I admit that I stopped under a red tree and exclaimed that very thing? Yes, I dare!
I love the fact that we set aside a whole month of the year to focus on thankfulness, but I read this in Daniel and it truly made me rethink Thanksgiving:
Three times a day he (Daniel) got down on his knees and prayed,
giving thanks to his God,
just as he had done before."
(Daniel 6:10b)
Giving thanks was a habit- not a dull and boring habit- but a discipline. A three-times-a-day discipline. He started his day with thanks, interrupted the flow of his day with thanks and tied together the loose ends of the day with thanks. A habit that forces one to focus on the good things that a good God has placed in our everyday moments. Everyday moments...
Some days are beautiful, filled to the brim with joy and you can't stop the overflow of your heart from just bursting out of you with shouts of thanksgiving. Some days are normal days, nothing extraordinary, just your basic day. And other days...well, those days are hard. And scary. And sad and depressing and stressful and they try to steal your joy and your sanity and it's all you can do to just get dressed and out of bed and not snap at everything and everybody in sight. I have been there and had more than my fair share of days like that.
"I will sacrifice a thank offering to You
and call on the name of the Lord." (Psalm 116:17)
A "sacrifice of a thank offering." I love that visual. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the drama of what is not right with my world. Someone who is supposed to love me has hurt me deeply, and continues to do so with the absence of actions or words. I focus on that until my heart is twisted in pain and my bones hurt and my mind goes over it again and again. What can I give thanks for here? "Thank You, Lord, for ALL the people who do love on me, who are consistently there and solid and do respond with love. Thank You for the memories I have with this person and for the fact that I believe You can breathe life into lifeless things. Thank You for being that kind of God. For being a Father to the fatherless and the Restorer of wasted years. For "rebuilding ancient ruins and restoring places long devastated." (Isaiah 61:4) Thank You for the promise of a place where there will be no more pain, no more tears. For being my Abba."
Thus the sacrifice. To get the focus off myself and the "depths of despair" and the situation and shift that focus to my Solution, my only Hope. Somehow just letting that praise fall from my lips makes Him seem bigger. When my parents divorced I was...there are no words for what I was. "Small" is the closest thing I can come up with. Broken, hopeless, ruined, spinning, lost...these also come to mind. My mom gave me a giant Rubbermaid tote filled with pictures of our family life together. Their wedding pictures, my baby pictures- snapshots of a world I loved and depended on, gone with one decision. I had no clue what to do with all those pictures. Looking at them shredded me. So they sat. In that green Rubbermaid tote. We moved it from one place to another to another until finally I felt the urge to open that tote and put those pictures into a scrapbook; pretend it was somebody else's life. It was fantastic therapy. When I reached the end of putting that book together, I was able to see it as a celebration of what was. Able to celebrate that I had a wonderful, loving home that was fun and solid and warm and my parents had loved me and we had played and laughed and cried and LIVED together. What a blessing! Putting that book together was not easy, but the payoff was truth- and the truth will always set you free from something. A "sacrifice of thanksgiving" that led to a true confession of thanks. And a bit of freedom in the process. So here I go. Leaping into this sixth month of motherhood determined to pass this habit, this discipline of thanksgiving three times a day to my daughter. So that she will grow up focusing on "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy." (Phillipians 4:8) "Think about such things!!!" Pay attention, O my soul!
I love the fact that we set aside a whole month of the year to focus on thankfulness, but I read this in Daniel and it truly made me rethink Thanksgiving:
Three times a day he (Daniel) got down on his knees and prayed,
giving thanks to his God,
just as he had done before."
(Daniel 6:10b)
Giving thanks was a habit- not a dull and boring habit- but a discipline. A three-times-a-day discipline. He started his day with thanks, interrupted the flow of his day with thanks and tied together the loose ends of the day with thanks. A habit that forces one to focus on the good things that a good God has placed in our everyday moments. Everyday moments...
Some days are beautiful, filled to the brim with joy and you can't stop the overflow of your heart from just bursting out of you with shouts of thanksgiving. Some days are normal days, nothing extraordinary, just your basic day. And other days...well, those days are hard. And scary. And sad and depressing and stressful and they try to steal your joy and your sanity and it's all you can do to just get dressed and out of bed and not snap at everything and everybody in sight. I have been there and had more than my fair share of days like that.
"I will sacrifice a thank offering to You
and call on the name of the Lord." (Psalm 116:17)
A "sacrifice of a thank offering." I love that visual. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the drama of what is not right with my world. Someone who is supposed to love me has hurt me deeply, and continues to do so with the absence of actions or words. I focus on that until my heart is twisted in pain and my bones hurt and my mind goes over it again and again. What can I give thanks for here? "Thank You, Lord, for ALL the people who do love on me, who are consistently there and solid and do respond with love. Thank You for the memories I have with this person and for the fact that I believe You can breathe life into lifeless things. Thank You for being that kind of God. For being a Father to the fatherless and the Restorer of wasted years. For "rebuilding ancient ruins and restoring places long devastated." (Isaiah 61:4) Thank You for the promise of a place where there will be no more pain, no more tears. For being my Abba."
Thus the sacrifice. To get the focus off myself and the "depths of despair" and the situation and shift that focus to my Solution, my only Hope. Somehow just letting that praise fall from my lips makes Him seem bigger. When my parents divorced I was...there are no words for what I was. "Small" is the closest thing I can come up with. Broken, hopeless, ruined, spinning, lost...these also come to mind. My mom gave me a giant Rubbermaid tote filled with pictures of our family life together. Their wedding pictures, my baby pictures- snapshots of a world I loved and depended on, gone with one decision. I had no clue what to do with all those pictures. Looking at them shredded me. So they sat. In that green Rubbermaid tote. We moved it from one place to another to another until finally I felt the urge to open that tote and put those pictures into a scrapbook; pretend it was somebody else's life. It was fantastic therapy. When I reached the end of putting that book together, I was able to see it as a celebration of what was. Able to celebrate that I had a wonderful, loving home that was fun and solid and warm and my parents had loved me and we had played and laughed and cried and LIVED together. What a blessing! Putting that book together was not easy, but the payoff was truth- and the truth will always set you free from something. A "sacrifice of thanksgiving" that led to a true confession of thanks. And a bit of freedom in the process. So here I go. Leaping into this sixth month of motherhood determined to pass this habit, this discipline of thanksgiving three times a day to my daughter. So that she will grow up focusing on "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy." (Phillipians 4:8) "Think about such things!!!" Pay attention, O my soul!
Monday, November 1, 2010
manna from heaven
A few weeks ago I went with my MOPS group to the pumpkin patch. There were apples for tasting, pumpkins for picking, sheep for petting and the day was bathed in that glorious fall sunshine. I noticed a sign posted near the petting zoo that had random facts about sheep; it literally stopped me in my tracks.
"If a sheep falls onto it's back, it cannot get back on it's feet without help."
The more I learn about sheep, the more obvious it becomes to me why Christ was constantly comparing us to them! We need each other. Period. We were created for relationship- with God, with each other...relationship.
I have missed my comfortable, known relationships and have been slowly building new ones. It's awkward and uncomfortable and strange. Thankfully, my feet feel a bit more grounded since they have found a place to call home, but I still feel like I'm stumbling around unknown territory. Last week I was feeling especially discouraged in this arena. And I wallowed a bit. (Do I really need to confess to that?) And God was pretty direct with me, which is not our normal dynamic. Usually He is very gentle, but I think He knew I needed a kick.
He kicked me when I was reading in Exodus. The children of Israel have just been delivered from Egypt, something they prayed for, dreamed of, were anticipating with great joy. God brought them out with amazing flourishes of His majesty: the plagues in Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea...is there anything that could top the parting of the Red Sea? They actually got to hear His voice and watch Him display His glory at Mt. Sinai. But still...they are disappointed that He didn't take them to the Promised Land the way they had expected Him to. It was taking too long. I can relate.
And as I was relating (and possibley even wallowing), I felt God asking me to name ways He has provided for me. And be specific, please.
"You brought a job for my husband when he wasn't even looking, but we really needed some help. And not just "a job", but a job he loves and comes home happy from with plenty of energy left to love on both me and Annie."
manna from heaven
"You provided a home for us to live in rent free with friendly, albeit old-people, neighbors until we found a place to really call home."
manna from heaven
"Our house sold very, very quickly when even our realtor told us not to expect much."
manna from heaven
"I get to stay home and be a mommy, something I have wanted to do since I was five years old. And it is everything I dreamed of and much, much more."
manna from heaven
"I have walks on Wednesday with girls I am starting to think of as friends, who I love and whose children I love and I look forward to Wednesdays and the conversations and the company."
manna from heaven
"A beautiful home, in the neighborhood I wanted, within walking distance of the library, grocery store and Starbucks!"
manna from heaven
The list continued and continued until I was in tears of gratitude to El Roi- the God who sees me. He asked me to be specific because He has been specific in providing for me.
"Praise the Lord, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise His holy name.
Praise the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not His benefits-
who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion,
who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's."
(Psalm 103:1-5)
"Forget not His benefits." Recognize them, celebrate them, dance with joy about them. I want to cultivate a spirit of thanksgiving so that His praise is ever ready on my tongue, because He has been so good to me. Not like I expected, not like I had planned, but He is bringing me back to my feet and surrounding me with exactly what I need. And for that, I am very grateful.
"If a sheep falls onto it's back, it cannot get back on it's feet without help."
The more I learn about sheep, the more obvious it becomes to me why Christ was constantly comparing us to them! We need each other. Period. We were created for relationship- with God, with each other...relationship.
I have missed my comfortable, known relationships and have been slowly building new ones. It's awkward and uncomfortable and strange. Thankfully, my feet feel a bit more grounded since they have found a place to call home, but I still feel like I'm stumbling around unknown territory. Last week I was feeling especially discouraged in this arena. And I wallowed a bit. (Do I really need to confess to that?) And God was pretty direct with me, which is not our normal dynamic. Usually He is very gentle, but I think He knew I needed a kick.
He kicked me when I was reading in Exodus. The children of Israel have just been delivered from Egypt, something they prayed for, dreamed of, were anticipating with great joy. God brought them out with amazing flourishes of His majesty: the plagues in Egypt, the parting of the Red Sea...is there anything that could top the parting of the Red Sea? They actually got to hear His voice and watch Him display His glory at Mt. Sinai. But still...they are disappointed that He didn't take them to the Promised Land the way they had expected Him to. It was taking too long. I can relate.
And as I was relating (and possibley even wallowing), I felt God asking me to name ways He has provided for me. And be specific, please.
"You brought a job for my husband when he wasn't even looking, but we really needed some help. And not just "a job", but a job he loves and comes home happy from with plenty of energy left to love on both me and Annie."
manna from heaven
"You provided a home for us to live in rent free with friendly, albeit old-people, neighbors until we found a place to really call home."
manna from heaven
"Our house sold very, very quickly when even our realtor told us not to expect much."
manna from heaven
"I get to stay home and be a mommy, something I have wanted to do since I was five years old. And it is everything I dreamed of and much, much more."
manna from heaven
"I have walks on Wednesday with girls I am starting to think of as friends, who I love and whose children I love and I look forward to Wednesdays and the conversations and the company."
manna from heaven
"A beautiful home, in the neighborhood I wanted, within walking distance of the library, grocery store and Starbucks!"
manna from heaven
The list continued and continued until I was in tears of gratitude to El Roi- the God who sees me. He asked me to be specific because He has been specific in providing for me.
"Praise the Lord, O my soul;
all my inmost being, praise His holy name.
Praise the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not His benefits-
who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion,
who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's."
(Psalm 103:1-5)
"Forget not His benefits." Recognize them, celebrate them, dance with joy about them. I want to cultivate a spirit of thanksgiving so that His praise is ever ready on my tongue, because He has been so good to me. Not like I expected, not like I had planned, but He is bringing me back to my feet and surrounding me with exactly what I need. And for that, I am very grateful.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Arms of Love
She lays limp in my arms, tired from a day of shots and x-rays and doctors. I stand to stretch my legs and she curls tight against me. Instinctively, without thought her body curls in on itself in an attempt to be closer to mine. Closer to the warmth, the heart, the source of nourishment. I help her come closer, wrapping both arms a little tighter so she feels secure. Because I am moving, and I want her to feel safe.
My Abba is moving. He is doing a new thing, opening my heart to new people and places and possibilities. He is moving my heart for people standing on the street corner and sitting in my mommy group; people fighting cancer and marriage-takers and finances; people just trying to live this life-thing. And I curl toward Him. Toward the warmth, the heart, the source of my nourishment. "The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want..." So says the most popular Psalm of all.
And He holds me. Sometimes He holds me looking out, like Annie in her baby carrier. Exploring this world He created. Taking in new colors, smells, sensations. My back against His chest, His arms still supporting me. And when I have taken in more than I can understand, when my senses are on overload, when I am just plain tired He brings me once again toward His chest. I curl in. His arms ever around me. He is my Shepherd, I shall not want...
"I sing a simple song of love to my Savior, to my Jesus.
I'm thankful for the things You have done.
My loving Savior, my precious Jesus.
My heart is glad You've called me Your own
There's no place I'd rather be
In Your arms of love....
Holding me still, holding me near in Your arms of love."
My Abba is moving. He is doing a new thing, opening my heart to new people and places and possibilities. He is moving my heart for people standing on the street corner and sitting in my mommy group; people fighting cancer and marriage-takers and finances; people just trying to live this life-thing. And I curl toward Him. Toward the warmth, the heart, the source of my nourishment. "The LORD is my Shepherd, I shall not want..." So says the most popular Psalm of all.
And He holds me. Sometimes He holds me looking out, like Annie in her baby carrier. Exploring this world He created. Taking in new colors, smells, sensations. My back against His chest, His arms still supporting me. And when I have taken in more than I can understand, when my senses are on overload, when I am just plain tired He brings me once again toward His chest. I curl in. His arms ever around me. He is my Shepherd, I shall not want...
"I sing a simple song of love to my Savior, to my Jesus.
I'm thankful for the things You have done.
My loving Savior, my precious Jesus.
My heart is glad You've called me Your own
There's no place I'd rather be
In Your arms of love....
Holding me still, holding me near in Your arms of love."
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Delightful Beauty
Yesterday as I was getting ready for the day I ran into an old acquaintance; not really a welcome acquaintance at all. My hair wouldn't cooperate, nothing seemed to mask the dark circles and the only warm clothes I brought with me were sweats. I did NOT feel beautiful! That's when vanity popped in for a hello. I actually pouted, my eyes filled with tears and I moaned, "I just want Annie to think her mom is beautiful!" Saying it out loud, I was ashamed.
I DO want Annie to think I'm beautiful, but more than that I want her to know what true beauty is. Things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control...these are the things that make us beautiful. Not the mascara that promises longer, fuller lashes; not the concealer that is supposed to cover fine lines AND dark circles; not the blush and eyeshadow and eyeliner and lipsticks and good grief!!! Annie won't care if I look like I should be on the cover or Vogue or Shape, but she will care if I am full of love, if I laugh from joy, if I introduce her to the Source of all Peace and let His good character be nurtured in me. These are the things that matter.
It's easy to forget this. I feel pressure to be superwoman. To keep a clean and efficient home, have laundry done at all times, have nutritious meals and baked goodies waiting, feed, change and inspire creativity in my child, work out, take the dogs walking, grocery shopping...and on top of all this and more be a drop dead gorgeous "hottie". Are you kidding me??? I have friends who feel this pressure and also work outside the home. It's amazing more women aren't having nervous breakdowns! I want to stay grounded in what is true, in what matters. It is a daily fight to nurture those "fruits of the Spirit", but it is a necessary fight. I want to be gentle with Scott and with Annie. To be kind when I view the world around me. To have some self-control; have some balance. I have read the Proverbs 31 woman-text many times recently and nowhere does it say, "She does all this looking like she just walked out of Nordstrom."
I have a dear friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer when her daughter was four months old. She had to quit nursing cold turkey, cut her beautiful hair super short because it was starting to fall out from the medical treatments, is facing a double masectomy in a month and I'M struggling with vanity?! So ashamed. I cry as I even write this. Oh, friends...if we could all grasp the importance of encouraging each other in real beauty. Point out the beauty that God placed in each of us. From beautiful smiles, to kind and generous eyes, to infectious laughter to a steady spirit...these are the things that won't fade as we age or get sick. These are the things that will be our legacy. These are the things our children will pass on to their own.
"Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised."
(Proverbs 31:30)
"Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in..."
(1 Peter 3:4)
I DO want Annie to think I'm beautiful, but more than that I want her to know what true beauty is. Things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, self-control...these are the things that make us beautiful. Not the mascara that promises longer, fuller lashes; not the concealer that is supposed to cover fine lines AND dark circles; not the blush and eyeshadow and eyeliner and lipsticks and good grief!!! Annie won't care if I look like I should be on the cover or Vogue or Shape, but she will care if I am full of love, if I laugh from joy, if I introduce her to the Source of all Peace and let His good character be nurtured in me. These are the things that matter.
It's easy to forget this. I feel pressure to be superwoman. To keep a clean and efficient home, have laundry done at all times, have nutritious meals and baked goodies waiting, feed, change and inspire creativity in my child, work out, take the dogs walking, grocery shopping...and on top of all this and more be a drop dead gorgeous "hottie". Are you kidding me??? I have friends who feel this pressure and also work outside the home. It's amazing more women aren't having nervous breakdowns! I want to stay grounded in what is true, in what matters. It is a daily fight to nurture those "fruits of the Spirit", but it is a necessary fight. I want to be gentle with Scott and with Annie. To be kind when I view the world around me. To have some self-control; have some balance. I have read the Proverbs 31 woman-text many times recently and nowhere does it say, "She does all this looking like she just walked out of Nordstrom."
I have a dear friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer when her daughter was four months old. She had to quit nursing cold turkey, cut her beautiful hair super short because it was starting to fall out from the medical treatments, is facing a double masectomy in a month and I'M struggling with vanity?! So ashamed. I cry as I even write this. Oh, friends...if we could all grasp the importance of encouraging each other in real beauty. Point out the beauty that God placed in each of us. From beautiful smiles, to kind and generous eyes, to infectious laughter to a steady spirit...these are the things that won't fade as we age or get sick. These are the things that will be our legacy. These are the things our children will pass on to their own.
"Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting, but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised."
(Proverbs 31:30)
"Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in..."
(1 Peter 3:4)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Down, But Not Out
Admittedly, yesterday was not my best day. The movers arrived from Yakima and I had to have them leave all my belongings in the garage. We are only in this house another month so it would be silly to unpack...I just feel sad and unsettled and lost and lonely. These words do not fit with my inner optimist, but I told her to shut up yesterday and decided to just cry. :-) I don't like being "in between." And that is exactly where I am.
I did strap Annie to the front of me and played my piano in the garage with the sun shining on us and just enough breeze to make it pleasant. That was special, and something I would have never had the chance to do if we weren't "in between". A silver-lining moment. Today, we will go to one of the beautiful parks here and live this day. I want to be very clear- living also includes crying and questioning and grieving, along with the joy and laughter and play. Trusting God doesn't always look happy. That's not real! And we are nothing if not real! Human beings, created with emotions and feeling and free will...we can trust Him and still ask why! We can trust Him and still tell Him we hate the situation! He already knows, we may as well just be raw and honest on our knees before Him. He asks that we come and be in relationship with Him- true relationship with Him.
I know that good things are coming; it just doesn't feel like it. I'm not foolish enough to just live where the feelings are, but I have to acknowledge them. And that is what yesterday was about. I still want to go home, I still wish we knew where our next home will be, I still wish that our circumstances were different. It's been a hard week. Emotional. So be it...it's not going to be forever. And good things are coming. I know the character of my God, and I cling to what I know.
"Don't, enemy, crow over me.
I'm down, but I'm not out.
I'm sitting in the dark right now, but God is my light....it's not forever.
He's on my side and is going to get me out of this.
He'll turn on the lights and show me His ways. I'll see the whole picture and how right He is...
Oh, that will be a day!
A day for rebuilding your city,
a day for stretching your arms, spreading your wings!"
(Micah 7:8-9, 11)
I did strap Annie to the front of me and played my piano in the garage with the sun shining on us and just enough breeze to make it pleasant. That was special, and something I would have never had the chance to do if we weren't "in between". A silver-lining moment. Today, we will go to one of the beautiful parks here and live this day. I want to be very clear- living also includes crying and questioning and grieving, along with the joy and laughter and play. Trusting God doesn't always look happy. That's not real! And we are nothing if not real! Human beings, created with emotions and feeling and free will...we can trust Him and still ask why! We can trust Him and still tell Him we hate the situation! He already knows, we may as well just be raw and honest on our knees before Him. He asks that we come and be in relationship with Him- true relationship with Him.
I know that good things are coming; it just doesn't feel like it. I'm not foolish enough to just live where the feelings are, but I have to acknowledge them. And that is what yesterday was about. I still want to go home, I still wish we knew where our next home will be, I still wish that our circumstances were different. It's been a hard week. Emotional. So be it...it's not going to be forever. And good things are coming. I know the character of my God, and I cling to what I know.
"Don't, enemy, crow over me.
I'm down, but I'm not out.
I'm sitting in the dark right now, but God is my light....it's not forever.
He's on my side and is going to get me out of this.
He'll turn on the lights and show me His ways. I'll see the whole picture and how right He is...
Oh, that will be a day!
A day for rebuilding your city,
a day for stretching your arms, spreading your wings!"
(Micah 7:8-9, 11)
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Hikers in the Desert
He is slumped in the chair opposite me-exhausted. I, too, am slumped and tired, feeding the child our love made. Our love made. Our love sits in the room between us, thin and dry as the air that surrounds. We have just stated that we are tired of being thin with each other, thin with the world. There is so much fullness around us, and we have moments of shared laughter that remind us of when our love was full and fat and happy...but this is not one of those moments.
I look at his face, this man I love. This man I chose, and I choose each day. Lately our love has been made up of boxes and bills and laundry and "Can you fix this?," and "Can you remember to do this?". Errands and dust and distance. It blurs the edges of romantic love.
It feels hot, stretched and tight. It has been a while, but we used to enjoy hiking together. I think of this as he sits so far away on the opposite side of the room. It feels like we are hiking now. And I am tired. The hike may have been more than we can handle, but we have no choice but to keep going because we KNOW we have a destination worth getting to. We have sat down to rest. The sun is too hot, making my lips parch and I am sweaty and I HATE being sweaty! We are both covered in dust and I see that his lips are parched, too. Then, only as a man in love can, he offers me a sip from his canteen. Hope. When one of us runs low, the other reaches into the pack and finds more hope in the canteen. And when one tires, the other offers sip after sip from our own canteen until the other can find the drive to continue. I have long romanticized this process calling it a dance, but in reality there are no soft dresses and beautiful music and men in tuxedos and candlelight. There is just me and him and our love-dusty and tired-but still sparkling underneath it all. And if we can just offer each other a taste of it, we can make it until the sun sets and the earth cools and we reach a place of rest.
This week marriage has come up in many conversations. I think on these as I look at my man. I ask a lot of him. He is my hero, out slaying dragons and bringing home the bacon. Killing spiders and doing the heavy lifting. Tender kisses for our daughter, and silly voices and affectionate hugs for me. He is quiet and deep, and fun and ridiculous, and strong and weak and MINE. He loves me and I love him. He's worth a little hike in the desert.
"It (love) always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres. Love never fails."
(1 Corinthians 13:7-8a)
I look at his face, this man I love. This man I chose, and I choose each day. Lately our love has been made up of boxes and bills and laundry and "Can you fix this?," and "Can you remember to do this?". Errands and dust and distance. It blurs the edges of romantic love.
It feels hot, stretched and tight. It has been a while, but we used to enjoy hiking together. I think of this as he sits so far away on the opposite side of the room. It feels like we are hiking now. And I am tired. The hike may have been more than we can handle, but we have no choice but to keep going because we KNOW we have a destination worth getting to. We have sat down to rest. The sun is too hot, making my lips parch and I am sweaty and I HATE being sweaty! We are both covered in dust and I see that his lips are parched, too. Then, only as a man in love can, he offers me a sip from his canteen. Hope. When one of us runs low, the other reaches into the pack and finds more hope in the canteen. And when one tires, the other offers sip after sip from our own canteen until the other can find the drive to continue. I have long romanticized this process calling it a dance, but in reality there are no soft dresses and beautiful music and men in tuxedos and candlelight. There is just me and him and our love-dusty and tired-but still sparkling underneath it all. And if we can just offer each other a taste of it, we can make it until the sun sets and the earth cools and we reach a place of rest.
This week marriage has come up in many conversations. I think on these as I look at my man. I ask a lot of him. He is my hero, out slaying dragons and bringing home the bacon. Killing spiders and doing the heavy lifting. Tender kisses for our daughter, and silly voices and affectionate hugs for me. He is quiet and deep, and fun and ridiculous, and strong and weak and MINE. He loves me and I love him. He's worth a little hike in the desert.
"It (love) always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres. Love never fails."
(1 Corinthians 13:7-8a)
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Like a Child
"In my weakness I find that Your strength knows no bounds
and in my loneliness I find that the everlasting arms surround me.
And even with this fragile heart I find a place to rest here, safe where You are...
And I am falling into grace again and I am running where mercy never ends;
Lord, I'm learning that Your love can cover me,
You are teaching me what a child is meant to be."
(Kathryn Scott)
"Faith like a child..." This week has been emotional, to say the least. I have been tired, which always adds fuel to the abundance of emotions that always runs in my heart and in my head. I am in Yakima ironing out the final details of our house sale, prepping for the move, etc. and I am emotional. Just when I feel that my legs are finding a steady place to stand, one more thing comes and knocks me down again. One thing after another. Surprise after surprise- and these aren't the fun, wrapped-in-pretty-pink-paper-make-you-smile kind of surprise. These are the-world-is-tumbling-down-around-me-yet-again!!! kind of surprise. "Just a season," I remind myself. "You can endure anything for a season." Maybe not. Just kidding. :-)
I am learning, every day, what this "faith like a child" business is all about. Learning that everything I need is found in Him. So, Child, run to Him. Run like your life depended on it because it does. He is my oxygen, my steady ground, my hiding place.
"O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek You;
my soul thirsts for You, my body longs for You,
in a dry and weary land where there is no water....
My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise You....
Because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings.
My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me." (Psalm 63: 1, 5, 7-8)
It is a season to wave goodbye. To shake off what is known and embrace the unknown. Summer, in it's cutoff jeans and straw hat, is slowly waving goodbye to me. The smell of wheatfields and cut grass, the lemonade and iced tea, the purple haze that colors each evening, the warmth that falls on me like a heavy blanket straight from the dryer...it's coming to an end. How appropriate that this is the time I am waving goodbye to the city of my youth. The place I thought would hold Annie's youth. I love every season, really I do. But I'm always a little sad to see one end. Goodbye fresh peaches and cherries; goodbye sweet friends and dear church; goodbye flip-flops and barefeet and freckles; goodbye family I love and family I wrestle with. Goodbye.
Hello, fall. Hello Spokane with your beautiful parks and tall pine trees; hello new friends or the possibility of new friends; hello turtlenecks and falling leaves and the smell of apples and spice and pumpkin bread and school starting; hello new begining. Hello new season. "With singing lips my mouth will praise You..."
Whatever the season.
and in my loneliness I find that the everlasting arms surround me.
And even with this fragile heart I find a place to rest here, safe where You are...
And I am falling into grace again and I am running where mercy never ends;
Lord, I'm learning that Your love can cover me,
You are teaching me what a child is meant to be."
(Kathryn Scott)
"Faith like a child..." This week has been emotional, to say the least. I have been tired, which always adds fuel to the abundance of emotions that always runs in my heart and in my head. I am in Yakima ironing out the final details of our house sale, prepping for the move, etc. and I am emotional. Just when I feel that my legs are finding a steady place to stand, one more thing comes and knocks me down again. One thing after another. Surprise after surprise- and these aren't the fun, wrapped-in-pretty-pink-paper-make-you-smile kind of surprise. These are the-world-is-tumbling-down-around-me-yet-again!!! kind of surprise. "Just a season," I remind myself. "You can endure anything for a season." Maybe not. Just kidding. :-)
I am learning, every day, what this "faith like a child" business is all about. Learning that everything I need is found in Him. So, Child, run to Him. Run like your life depended on it because it does. He is my oxygen, my steady ground, my hiding place.
"O God, You are my God, earnestly I seek You;
my soul thirsts for You, my body longs for You,
in a dry and weary land where there is no water....
My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise You....
Because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings.
My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me." (Psalm 63: 1, 5, 7-8)
It is a season to wave goodbye. To shake off what is known and embrace the unknown. Summer, in it's cutoff jeans and straw hat, is slowly waving goodbye to me. The smell of wheatfields and cut grass, the lemonade and iced tea, the purple haze that colors each evening, the warmth that falls on me like a heavy blanket straight from the dryer...it's coming to an end. How appropriate that this is the time I am waving goodbye to the city of my youth. The place I thought would hold Annie's youth. I love every season, really I do. But I'm always a little sad to see one end. Goodbye fresh peaches and cherries; goodbye sweet friends and dear church; goodbye flip-flops and barefeet and freckles; goodbye family I love and family I wrestle with. Goodbye.
Hello, fall. Hello Spokane with your beautiful parks and tall pine trees; hello new friends or the possibility of new friends; hello turtlenecks and falling leaves and the smell of apples and spice and pumpkin bread and school starting; hello new begining. Hello new season. "With singing lips my mouth will praise You..."
Whatever the season.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Our house has sold and we have to move everything out by the end of the month. (This is so surreal, even typing it.) We are looking for a place of semi-permanence and I am really looking forward to being surrounded by my own things soon. There has been chaos and stress and one dizzying thing after another. And in the midst of all this, my child sleeps. Total peace. She sleeps best when held in my arms, or the arms of my husband. We represent home to her. The rest doesn't matter. Here I am, longing for peace, praying for it and I honestly don't even know what I'm chasing after or complaining about when I see her. Today was an "aha" moment (thank you, Oprah for that terminology). Looking at these pictures I felt the deep, even breathing of God. His breath took mine away. And in that moment, as His heart beat with mine, I realized what home really is. It's being held in His arms, close to His chest and breathing. Surrendering to the pull of the quiet.
I want to dive down, deep into His mercy and rest there; I want to play, exuberantly and free as a child, in the shadow of His wings; I want to "act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God" (Micah 6:8). This does not mean I won't cry anymore, or hurt or question. It does mean surrender. And home. And a little something called trust.
"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:8)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Embrace the Magic
She pauses while eating to look up at me and smile. Her shoulders go up, her eyes crinkle and her lips part in a pure joy. She smiles with her whole body, this daughter of mine. And my heart stops, undone by wonder. She is magic.
And she hasn't even really done anything! She is magic simply because she exists. The very breath of God resides in her body...and in mine. I pause when this hits me. I have struggled, like everyone else I'm sure, with my value, my worth as a person. Struggled with owning the gifts God put in me, afraid to come across as arrogant or proud. Afraid to fail. Afraid, just afraid.
I went through counseling eight years ago. There I shared how I always felt too big, like I took up more space than I was allotted. I felt huge and bumbling and awkward when all I wanted was to blend in. This feeling was physical and emotional and very strange because I'm not really a big person. God and I have been working on bringing me to my appropriate size. I giggle as I write that because it has been a trip! I learned that somewhere along the way, humbleness was defined incorrectly. God wants us to own what we are and what we are not. And to walk confidently in Him. There is magic in us. There is value in us. Simply because we exist. He looks at us and says, "Beautiful." Hmmm...He looks at me and says, "Beautiful."
When my husband says this to me, I blush and turn away, never sure how to respond. But I speak that word consistently over my child. "Beautiful." Proclaimed in the morning, sung during the day, whispered at night. She is beautiful because she is mine. And, oh, we are His. If I want my child, this girl who one day will be a woman, to embrace the magic God put in her, to embrace her beauty, I need to example this for her. I don't want her to think that to be woman means to constantly put herself down. To deflect compliments, to turn away from love. To find something about herself to criticize. To never be happy with the size of her thighs. I need to redefine this for her- for me. God has freed me from so much fear that it seems a pity not to dance in the beauty He sees; to not teach my daughter to dance freely in the beauty He has placed in her.
"Dance, dance, dear Shulammite, Angel-Princess!
Dance and we'll feast our eyes on your grace! Everyone wants to see the Shulammite dance
her victory dances of love and peace." (Song of Songs 6:13)
And she hasn't even really done anything! She is magic simply because she exists. The very breath of God resides in her body...and in mine. I pause when this hits me. I have struggled, like everyone else I'm sure, with my value, my worth as a person. Struggled with owning the gifts God put in me, afraid to come across as arrogant or proud. Afraid to fail. Afraid, just afraid.
I went through counseling eight years ago. There I shared how I always felt too big, like I took up more space than I was allotted. I felt huge and bumbling and awkward when all I wanted was to blend in. This feeling was physical and emotional and very strange because I'm not really a big person. God and I have been working on bringing me to my appropriate size. I giggle as I write that because it has been a trip! I learned that somewhere along the way, humbleness was defined incorrectly. God wants us to own what we are and what we are not. And to walk confidently in Him. There is magic in us. There is value in us. Simply because we exist. He looks at us and says, "Beautiful." Hmmm...He looks at me and says, "Beautiful."
When my husband says this to me, I blush and turn away, never sure how to respond. But I speak that word consistently over my child. "Beautiful." Proclaimed in the morning, sung during the day, whispered at night. She is beautiful because she is mine. And, oh, we are His. If I want my child, this girl who one day will be a woman, to embrace the magic God put in her, to embrace her beauty, I need to example this for her. I don't want her to think that to be woman means to constantly put herself down. To deflect compliments, to turn away from love. To find something about herself to criticize. To never be happy with the size of her thighs. I need to redefine this for her- for me. God has freed me from so much fear that it seems a pity not to dance in the beauty He sees; to not teach my daughter to dance freely in the beauty He has placed in her.
"Dance, dance, dear Shulammite, Angel-Princess!
Dance and we'll feast our eyes on your grace! Everyone wants to see the Shulammite dance
her victory dances of love and peace." (Song of Songs 6:13)
Sunday, August 8, 2010
New City, New Church?
So, today was my first experience with a church in my new city. I really liked the people, the atmosphere and how warm and friendly everyone was. This was surprising because I have been wary about trying a new church. I LOVED my last church. (I could repeat this statement over and over and over...) There was so much warmth and freedom and authenticity in the people and I didn't think God could top that. The people in my last church watched me grow from terrified little girl to a woman trying to walk in whatever gifts God placed in her. This was quite a journey, and these precious people provided a safe environment for me to spread my little wings and just try. The encouragement and love and support they provided nurtured these gifts and gave me confidence to keep trying!
So, now I'm in a new place. Having become a mommy three months ago, newness seems to be the name of the game. I used to have long, girly hair that could be curly or straight and really made me feel quite vogue at times. :-) I have cut said hair as it was being pulled and spit up in, etc. Also, used to drive a Mini Cooper- quite fun, but impractical. My husband just bought me a Volvo station wagon. Am embracing the mommy thing....but not holding my arms wide open to the change of a new city and a new church. Slowly, streets in this new city are becoming familiar and I am frequenting more places. This all makes me feel a bit more comfortable and not so much like a tourist. I HATE feeling like a tourist. But the church-thing...
As I said, everyone at this new church was super friendly and I liked it. But I didn't like not being known. At home, oh-savor that word home!- everybody knew me. They had an idea of what was in my heart and in my history and they KNEW me. We had lived and loved and learned together. We had cried and laughed and stressed over minute details together. Thrown parties and been on our knees in prayer and worship and made beautiful harmonies and surprising friendships and I miss that!!! Here, nobody knows me. I am a blank slate, a first impression, a "visitor." Oh, my soul...but the God I came to celebrate this morning knows me. Better than anyone else. He has written my days down, even the ones yet to come. He created my inmost being, the parts I'm afraid to admit even to myself. He is my Constant Companion, day in and day out. As I try to fit in a shower, change poopy diapers, put on makeup so my husband recognizes me, make dinner, deal with dogs...He is ever there. Watching it all. Singing over me as I sing over my daughter. Lullabies abound and my soul is soothed. Maybe the sweet people in my last church who gave me the courage to try will ring in my memory and my heart and new courage will rise in a new town. Maybe new gifts will be discovered as this new role as mommy emerges. God is doing a new thing...but He is ever constant.
So, now I'm in a new place. Having become a mommy three months ago, newness seems to be the name of the game. I used to have long, girly hair that could be curly or straight and really made me feel quite vogue at times. :-) I have cut said hair as it was being pulled and spit up in, etc. Also, used to drive a Mini Cooper- quite fun, but impractical. My husband just bought me a Volvo station wagon. Am embracing the mommy thing....but not holding my arms wide open to the change of a new city and a new church. Slowly, streets in this new city are becoming familiar and I am frequenting more places. This all makes me feel a bit more comfortable and not so much like a tourist. I HATE feeling like a tourist. But the church-thing...
As I said, everyone at this new church was super friendly and I liked it. But I didn't like not being known. At home, oh-savor that word home!- everybody knew me. They had an idea of what was in my heart and in my history and they KNEW me. We had lived and loved and learned together. We had cried and laughed and stressed over minute details together. Thrown parties and been on our knees in prayer and worship and made beautiful harmonies and surprising friendships and I miss that!!! Here, nobody knows me. I am a blank slate, a first impression, a "visitor." Oh, my soul...but the God I came to celebrate this morning knows me. Better than anyone else. He has written my days down, even the ones yet to come. He created my inmost being, the parts I'm afraid to admit even to myself. He is my Constant Companion, day in and day out. As I try to fit in a shower, change poopy diapers, put on makeup so my husband recognizes me, make dinner, deal with dogs...He is ever there. Watching it all. Singing over me as I sing over my daughter. Lullabies abound and my soul is soothed. Maybe the sweet people in my last church who gave me the courage to try will ring in my memory and my heart and new courage will rise in a new town. Maybe new gifts will be discovered as this new role as mommy emerges. God is doing a new thing...but He is ever constant.
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