Gathering Grace

Reformation Week Pt. 2

2010-10-28T07:26:00.000-04:00

Martin Luther showed the world that a humble man can also be a passionate, zealous one. Christians can wield words like swords and persuade men with the courage of their convictions. He was not without sin, but he who is loved much is forgiven much. And I do love Martin Luther.

In a time when he seemed to be in the vortex of a storm that threatened to destroy the Church, Luther never backed down. He was sure of what he believed, but he had personal, encouraging words for his friend who wavered with the heart of a diplomat. Melanchthon lacked Luther's zeal. He was of a more practical bent... I think he was probably more like me (with pounds more wisdom and intelligence!), with a bit of time and experience having mellowed his youthful zeal, causing him to appreciate and value flexibility and productivity. Perhaps, like me, he had begun to calculate the cost more often than he used to. The voices around him were maybe beginning to confuse and distract him from the purity of the gospel.

But not so, Luther. In the year 1521, he wrote to his friend:

"If you are a preacher of Grace, then preach a true, not a fictitious grace; if grace is true, you must bear a true and not a fictitious sin. God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners.

Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly. For he is victorious over sin, death, and the world.

As long as we are here we have to sin. This life in not the dwelling place of righteousness but, as Peter says, we look for a new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. . . .

Pray boldly - you, too, are a mighty sinner."

These words have been called Luther's "most provocative words," "the boldest and wildest utterance of Luther on justification."

But perhaps more provocative, more wild, more bold were these:

"It is finished."

"And if these things are true - and they are - then let everything else go."
Martin Luther

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"God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power.

After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high..."
Hebrews 1:2-3

"And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands.

This he set aside, nailing it to the cross."
Colossians 2:13-14

"But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it -
the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe.

For there is no distinction: all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift,

through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith.

This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time,

so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus."
Romans 3:21-26

Reformation Week

2010-10-26T22:26:00.000-04:00

"He was like a man climbing in the darkness of a winding staircase in the steeple of an ancient cathedral. In the blackness he reached out to steady himself, and his hand laid hold of a rope.
He was startled to hear the clanging of a bell..."
Karl Barth, on Martin Luther

"Don't resist helplessness -- it's the power of your prayer life."
Bill Thrasher, Journey to a Victorious Prayer Life

This is the week leading up to Reformation Day, the day that Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses and the bells began to ring. Thinking about my ancient friend this week, in all his wild zeal and astonishing humility...

Reading... and Living... Between the Lines

2010-10-17T20:51:00.003-04:00

A very wise man once said:

Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
Ecc. 12:12

I read a lot, on various topics. I read fluff and I read lead-weight tomes. I also listen to a couple of podcasts like White Horse Inn when I can. I have devotional books, weekly sermons, and multiple conversations on a variety of topics on a daily/weekly basis.

Sometimes I think this is good for me.

And sometimes I think it's... not.

Some things glide over and leave no lasting residue, some things settle and work on me, maturing me. And some things stick in the craw. And then there are some things that I just don't know what to make of.

That last part is the part that probably makes up the majority of anything of significance. It might be something that is worthy of effort and attention -- and then again, it might be worth tossing. The problem is, I don't always know from page 1: discernment takes time and concentration and an effort at understanding the whole. I find this extremely uncomfortable, this in-between place where ignorance is being exposed but wisdom hasn't yet made its appearance. It's humbling to learn or re-learn! Re-learning is probably more humbling than learning. Oh, how many times have I been so sure... only to find out that that particular house I was building had a sandy foundation.

I've been there enough times to know that I don't know it all. But here's the rub: you have to start somewhere if you want to get anywhere. And so I start with another topic, another book, and I go through periods of discomfort and restlessness, waiting for God to work on me and put all those jangling pieces in my head together into some cohesive whole.

And then...

And then comes the hardest part of all. Then comes the question:

So what?

What do I do with new ideas and new revelations? Maybe it's a revelation of error or ignorance. Maybe it's a lightbulb moment and another brick is laid instead of another stronghold being demolished. Either way, the result is discomfort for a season, a place where I am forced to trust God to keep what He has entrusted to me. A time to practice trusting Him with my soul and the outcome of my life's efforts.

Do you ever read something or learn something and think, "I've done it all wrong, now what? What a wasted opportunity I've had..." When I have moments like that my first reaction is to race to fix it, to look for the outline form to fill in with answers. That would be so satisfying --

But instead we're all asked to live in the not-knowing, the not-now, the not-yet. We're asked to believe that "He who began a good work in you will complete it" and that "He is able to keep" those people we love, whose lives we touch for good or ill. So for me, as I read and learn and re-learn, I have to remember this charge given by Peter:

"Be diligent to be found by Him... in peace."
2 Peter 3:14

Meekness, according to Elisabeth Elliott, is the willingness to be taught. It is the sister of humility. I am not a meek person by nature, neither am I naturally humble. To learn to be meek is one thing -- to learn to be meek and at peace is quite another.

"It is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace," said the writer of Hebrews. If it's one thing I'm learning of late, it's that this pilgrimage is a long one, and the destination is the only point of "arrival." Still, we have to live and move and be in this world... we have to make decisions and use our good judgment, even when we know our hearts are deceitful and wicked and our judgment is cloudy at best. Christians know better than anyone how our fallen state affects all corners of our daily lives. This is an uncomforable place, like I said - to be required and responsible to use fallen instruments righteously, to make wise judgments with fallen natures and to see clearly when the mirror is dark and the window pane is wonky.

So this is why Christ must be front and center. He alone is able to save us from ourselves, even redeeming the errors we make in order to use them for our good. This is grace, and it strengthens weak hearts. So I whisper to myself in moments of fear or panic, "His is able... It is kept."

Yes - "all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well."

Fenceless

2010-10-13T11:47:00.000-04:00

Lately I seem to keep running up against people who challenge some of my most well-worn and most relied-upon mental images, the things that help me make sense of my world. Sometimes I have to mull on new things awhile and make sure that it isn't just clever phrasing that grabs my attention, but it's not a bad thing to be made to THINK once in awhile. Sometimes it is a gift -- the ability to suddenly see something that is worn and faded become new and colorful again. There are times that I've decided the original format was good enough... but the mental exercise is usually beneficial anyway.

Our ancient creeds come to us in similar ways -- they weren't written to state a new concept to that particular body of believers as much as they were written to RE-state in clarified form something that had been assumed, worn, and faded with use... something useful had been questioned with clever words and savvy doubters... and those tired old phrases didn't seem to measure up anymore. But when the council convened and the Scriptures were consulted, the Holy Spirit blew through with grace and made what was old and true beautiful again, and we are blessed today with glorious old words like these:

I believe in one God the Father Almighty,
Maker of heaven and earth,
And of all things visible and invisible:

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God,
Begotten of his Father before all worlds,
God of God, Light of Light,
Very God of very God...

On a more modern and less signficant note, I find new phrasing and better examples of things to hold to in life on a regular basis. Sometimes, though, certain ways of thinking and certain words stick with me and become part of my "lens" through which I see life. For example, I often think of life in Christ like a field with picket fencing... in fact, I wrote about that recently. I have a tendency to live right next to the fence with my back to green pastures. I have a tendency to soul-wander. Those picket fences, like the law, become "pleasant boundary lines" when the woods beyond grow shadowy-close. I use this phraseology with the kids frequently.

Yesterday I read something that challenged this word-picture in my mind, and I'm mulling on it today. What do you think?

"Resisting cultural ideologies... is not a matter of keeping these theologies at arm's length as much as maintaining our focus on Jesus Christ despite pressure to focus on ourselves. An African Christian described it to me this way:

'You Americans think of Christianity as a farm with a fence. Your question is: Are you inside the fence or outside of it? We Africans think differently. We think of Christianity as a farm with no fence. Our question is: Are you heading towards the farm, or away from it?' "

The church's identity is not defined primarily by its edges, but by its center: focused on Christ, the sole source of our identity, no intruder poses a threat. No alien hops a fence, because there is no fence. Boundaries are determined by proximity to the Holy Spirit's centripetal pull, not by arbitrary human borders."
Kendra Creasy Dean

Ms. Dean was talking more about our tendency to erect barriers between each other, and between "us" and "them." But I thought the imagery was still provocative. There is a sacred even in the secular, and all is under the dominion of Christ.

Still, I guess the point is, THERE IS A FARM. And a farmer who waits to welcome His children home to it every day of our lives.
And there is more Good News: there is also a Good Shepherd on this farm who refuses to lose even one of His Father's sheep -- and He's not afraid of the big, bad wolf in those dark woods beyond.

For freedom Christ has set us free...
Gal. 5:1

Yes, Nathanael, There is Good in Nazareth...

2010-10-07T21:25:00.002-04:00

When we moved here 9 years ago, the neighborhood was new. We saw the plans laid out as we signed the papers: a pool here, tennis courts there, wooded areas where the creek runs behind. There followed a year of hammering and buzzing all around us until finally our section was complete. Another year of heavy trucks lumbering by, at all hours, down and around and out of sight and back. And then the quiet began to return, along with the squirrels and birds.

And now the trees that were new are full and tall, the bushes overgrown in areas, the sod established, the neighbors settled in.

I run a path through these familiar, quiet streets and see mostly a sculptured kind of beauty as I pass. I smell the scent of dryer sheets as the dryers vent into backyards, and from time to time I have to slow down when I smell tea olives blooming on the way.

But still there are sections of barrenness between established homes. There will be sod -- and then -- dirt, gravel, weeds. Nature returns to itself in places that are not tended, and their ugliness mars the beauty of the surrounding areas. How easy it is to find the gaze directed at ugliness, and suddenly I'm looking not at blue sky but the arresting reminders that this is no paradise...

As I walked out the front door today with my iPhone in hand, I caught a whiff... ah, the tea olive must be blooming. Again? I had to go check, around the corner of our house, where hiding the big ugly metal of heating and air units is a tea olive reaching to the second floor of our house. Its tips just brush Claire's windowsill. Mmmmm... if I could bottle that fragrance, I'd be a wealthy woman! It smells like heaven. In fact, one night I dreamed that I was swimming in this beautiful exotic location and no matter where I went, the water felt perfect and the air always, always smelled like tea olives. I remember in my dream I didn't want to leave paradise...

So I stopped for a few moments and sniffed till I (almost) had my fill. And then I set off on my run. I passed through quiet streets with their interspersing empty ugly lots. There was a hawk flying overhead today, huge and black against the bright midday sun. Its shadow fell over me once or twice.

Did you know that there are tv channels devoted to "the good life?" Their programming is designed (I suppose) to inspire poor people to get rich, or to inspire the rich to spend more money. :) I find it entertaining, this spin they put on "living the life you've imagined," as if that is within our grasp at all times, the big "if only..."

When Claire was a baby, I could easily imagine the life I wanted -- it was the same one that everyone else seemed to have already. We once took a trip to visit some old friends who lived in a neighborhood much like the one we live in today, and on the way home John and I sat in dumb silence, contemplating how impossible it seemed that we would ever have the chance to take our kids to our own neighborhood pool, or even walk safely down the streets with the stroller in tow. We had no common areas, no garden, no picnic tables. Just a very tiny little starter home that was both my joy and my frustration. No matter how vividly we could wanted a better life, I also wanted to be home with the kids, and John enjoyed his work. We made our choices within the given boundaries. Life comes with choices. Imagination may be boundless -- but reality has borders, and you only hurt yourself when you continually ram your pretty head against them.

Within a year or so, however, we found ourselves living in a house double the size of our first home. It happened so fast we barely had time to take a deep breath and fully appreciate the gift! Within the next 3 years, we were leaving my hometown and all I knew, including that house that had been the dream for so long and the neighboring pool that seemed to encapsulate everything I had wanted at the time.

And here we are, living in a place BEYOND what we imagined. And still I remember one day just a few years ago, watching one of those daydreamy shows about people who move to Italy and proceed to "live that life they imagined." They made it all seem so simple! The kind of show that makes you look around your suburban home and say, "Hey, we're adults in a free country, for goodness' sakes! Why are we here, when we could be in ITALY?" I asked John in a fit of frustration-with-self: "Do you think there is ANYONE in the world who ever says, 'I wonder what it's like to live in American suburbia?'" In comparison to the wild beauty of the cliffs of Greece or the small towns of Italy or the shores of Hawaii, WHO in their right mind would CHOOSE to live HERE? He looked at me with one peaked eyebrow and said: "Um, yeah... probably about 3/4 of the entire world." Oh. yeah. Those people. :)

My point is, my imagination cannot touch what God has planned for us, for any of us. And God's best isn't usually good fodder for prime-time tv shows - His ways are NOT our ways, and His good intentions toward us do not always translate to our standards. His plan is to give us HOPE and PURPOSE -- these things we cannot grasp for ourselves with money, travel, or adventure.

We live before His face every day, right where He plants us, but still our hearts wander and rove and step on the lines and poke the fences for weak points where we might technically squeeze through. Even though there are acres within the pleasant boundary lines, our hearts still want to linger at the fenceposts. In our distraction and preoccupation, our backs stay turned to the green pastures and the still waters inside. We've seen those intermittent brambly places where nature seems to have taken over and they look ugly... we know the fence doesn't keep out the ugly, and our hearts long for perfect. Maybe it's out there...

We are homesick for eternity. We are longing, but in this twisted world we get it all wrong! We think we're longing for THAT... when in reality, all we really want is here. It's just not ALL here, yet...

Sometimes the bumper sticker is great: Life is Good. It's good on a sunny day when the tea olives are blooming and I feel strength in my legs. Sometimes we say to each other, "If God wills, we will do this or that," and He DOES allow, and we are glad.
And sometimes life is a living, ugly hell of an empty lot, and we wonder with Nathanael, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" (John 1:46)

Maybe life is simply dull, monotonous, colorless, and that tv channel drones like a prophet: "your life is what YOU make it. Live the life you imagine!" But the law comes like a wolf in sheep's clothing... when it sounds like promise and hope, it brings a heavy burden instead. In contrast, Jesus is the True Prophet and He tells us about his upside-down wisdom that topples worlds:

"If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?" Matt. 16:24-26

Ah, Nathanael. Did anything good come from Nazareth? Only the best... the only thing good enough to ransom our souls.

There WAS good in Nazareth.
There IS beauty in ashes.
There IS treasure in clay pots.
There IS a pearl in those overgrown fields.

Instead of living the life I've imagined, let me live the life He imagined before time began, to do the works He has planned beforehand for me to do. It may look like a long, hard, sweaty run uphill past overgrown empty lots full of weeds... followed by the breezy downhill rush of quiet, with the fragrance of tea olives along the way. It may not look like much to me, even at its best, and I may forget to be grateful for all the good things laid out behind me, all the mercies leading to this moment, the wind at my back and the sun on my face. I may feel hot and distracted.

But one day the veil will be removed and I will see it all for what it was: hidden beauty.

There is no need for restlessness. He IS wherever I already AM. I don't need to travel to Italy to be overwhelmed by God's glory. I don't have to feel the burden to "make life" anything at all, because IT IS KEPT. Jesus is the crown jewel, and He is enough to make even the barren beautiful. His beautiful presence in jars of clay is what makes even hardened pottery valuable. We don't have to measure the things themselves, or our quality of life, in order to estimate the goodness of life in this land of the living -- or to measure God's grace -- or to measure God's goodness towards us.

The angels once asked the disciples, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here..." What I want is THERE: all of Him and all of Heaven forever. I see bits of Him all around like pieces of scattered light... but despite my best attempts to gather and store and categorize and hoard, He will not be bound and boxed. All that glitters here is not the gold... IT IS NOT HERE.

My treasure is KEPT in heaven for me. Will I be patient for it? Aaron and his golden calf are no substitutes for the real God on the smoking mountain.

"Men of Galilee," the angels asked again a bit later, "Why do you stand looking? This same Jesus will come again..."

So --
knowing this, I am free to "live, move, and have my being" in this world. All this pasture, soft and green and watered, with its dark, weedy patches, is mine to roam and enjoy and co-create and muddle through. There are discoveries to be made and activities to be explored and suffering to be endured. But the hidden beauty in it ALL (good, bad, and ugly!) is that the Good Shepherd travels with me just like He did with the Israelites: going before, settling around. All is well, and one day we will know and not just believe it to be true.

We will see with our eyes the finished product of this long, slow process: the Temple He is building on the threshing floors... the one that COST something to build. Every precious tear that goes into it, every death that comes because of it is kept and precious to God the Creator.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time."
Ecc. 3:11

There is a time for everything... but one intent:
to live Coram Deo,
Soli Deo Gloria.

"Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight ahead of you...
Do not swerve."
Prov. 4:25-27

"Glory to God in the highest --
And on earth [be] peace: [there is] goodwill toward men."
Luke 2:14

Time for Apple Upside-Down Cake

2010-10-06T22:46:00.000-04:00

It's fall, and that means apples. We are currently living sans foodtv. Our satellite plan doesn't provide it. Yes, I feel the loss of inspiration -- BUT this has sent me browsing PBS, and thank goodness for America's Test Kitchen and Cook's Country. My people here at home are feeling the love, too, because tonight's apple cake was inspired by a recent episode whose deliciousness sent me directly to the internet for the printable recipe. I don't think it's up anymore, so I'm probably breaking some sort of internet rules by posting it here, but lets throw caution to the wind, shall we?

There is something so very satisfying about slicing an apple for recipes, I think. It makes me feel like a chef.

1. Core and peel 4 granny smith apples. Cut 2 of them into 1/2 inch slices. Cut 2 of them into 1/4 inch slices.

Here you have 2 choices: you can either bake this in a 10" iron skillet like I did...
or...
you can bake it in a buttered 9" round, 2" deep (make sure it's deep enough!) nonstick cake pan.

If you use the skillet, don't butter it. Do it all in one pan, easy peasy.

If you use the cake pan, butter it. Then brown the apples and add them to the pan. Got it? My directions assume a skillet, since that's what I used.

3. Heat 4 T. butter in your skillet. When the foaming subsides, add the 1/2" sliced apples in a single layer. Let them caramelize (don't stir much!). This takes about 4-6 minutes.

I had to include this picture only because I LOVE BROWN SUGAR and it is another very satisfying thing to do, packing brown sugar. Ahhhhh...

4. Add 1/4" sliced apples, 2/3 c. brown sugar, and 2 t. lemon juice. Stir to coat all pieces, and let this dissolve into a "sauce." Set this aside while you make the cake (or if you're using another cake pan, go ahead and pour it into that buttered pan).

5. For the cake, whisk 1 c. unbleached AP flour, 1 T. cornmeal, 1 t. baking powder, and 1/2 t. salt in a medium bowl. Set aside.

6. Whisk 3/4 c. granulated sugar, 1/4 c. light brown sugar, and 2 eggs together until thick and homogeneous, about 45 seconds. Slowly whisk in 6 T. MELTED butter until combined. Add 1/2 c. sour cream and 1 t. vanilla, whisk until combined. Add flour mixture and mix until just combined. Pour this batter over the apples and spread evenly. Bake at 350 for about 40 minutes ON THE BOTTOM RACK or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

7. Cool the pan on a wire rack for 20 minutes. THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT, otherwise your fruit will run all over the place! Let it set. Be patient. :)

8. Run a paring knife around the edges to loosen. Invert the cake onto a plate, and let it sit for another 15 minutes to cool and set.

Enjoy the wonderfulness.

Suddenly Fall

2010-10-05T12:49:00.000-04:00

We went from hot to quite chilly overnight! I spent the summer keeping the blinds closed and the oven off... no bright lights, no hot dinners. But now it's time to open the windows and warm up the hearth fires! Nothing says "change of season" like the smell of chili simmering and cornbread baking once again.

Signs of fall are all around. After a long, hot summer, we're drinking it in:

I'm finding some renewed energy and interest in things like RUNNING. For the non-dedicated like myself, it was simply too darned hot to run this summer. I felt like I stayed hot from June 1st onward, even without much movement. Even the pool was hot!

It's time for textiles, yarn in my lap and blankets on my legs. Jackets are hanging on the hooks once again. Fall is a lovely season, for so many reasons, and so very welcome here. I think everyone who lives in a place with 4 seasons feels the same: THANKFUL! I spurn the Christmas dept in October! Give me fall, and that's enough. Let me have my time to rejoice in a "good harvest" before the clamor of need and the want of winter sets in... There is no season like fall for making everyone feel richly content, both inside and out. What a blessing to be surrounded by richness of color, taste, scent, and even sound, no matter the numbers in my checkbook. :)

There is yet "goodness in the land of the living." Fall is a beautiful reminder of what is to come, a haunting melody that I seem to recall from another place, something stirring that makes me almost homesick. I find myself thankful for these beautiful days, this gorgeous light, the cool breezes and the colorful trees, but also for a HOME I haven't seen yet but long for more and more with every passing season. It will be good, and fall teases me with a memory of what will be...

Little Bits of Random-ness

2010-09-29T11:20:00.001-04:00

We have now officially entered swim season. This means hours spent erecting the tent over the neighborhood pool, MULTIPLE emails about how everyone needs to remember to bring food for concessions, monthly account statements in my inbox to figure out, on top of the normal daily practices and regular swim meets to attend and work. It must be great to be a kid and just go SWIM.

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After many visits to Sephora and much free-sampling, I have made an important decision: DKNY's Pure is my new favorite perfume. This is no small announcement! It takes interest and motivation to actually make the attempt to find a perfume that you like -- the choices seem infinite, and who has the time or the nose for hours of testing? And even if you find one you like, living with it is another thing altogether.

The girls have piano on Mondays from about 2-4. During these hours, Jack and I often hit the mall area since that is the closest thing of entertainment value. I give him a trip to the Disney Store if he will give me a trip to Sephora. Sephora has a computer program mounted on a flat-screen tv that helps to narrow it down a bit. Plus it's fun.

Until I have $60 to drop on a bottle, however, I will be continuing to visit Sephora at random times in order to get free samples. It's the poor woman's way to perfume herself.

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I'm currently reading a book that I would highly recommend to all parents, titled Almost Christian. It is based upon a study of teens and religion that was recently published, but trust me -- even if you have young kids, they DO turn into teens, faster than one might think. And when they do, you'll have enough on your hands without having to read a book to figure out how to "do it" well. Go ahead and read Almost Christian by Kenda Creasy Dean, and Age of Opportunity by Paul David Tripp. Read them every year until the kids leave home. That's my advice. :)

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Understanding French is still a goal of mine, but it is being accomplished in baby steps. I always take some sort of French with me whenever I have to wait on kids for this or that, and while it does make me feel slightly productive, sometimes I definitely have a sinking feeling: I'm not sure I'll ever get enough to make a difference. You know what I find interesting, though? The more I study French, the more I LOVE English. I most certainly have developed a new appreciation for the nuances of my mother tongue! Ah, fluidity of thought and speech. I love you so. It also gives me a new compassion for the "strangers among us:" It is entirely possible to be a brilliant person with a limited vocabulary in a new country. I can't imagine the grace and humility that it must require to move through life stumbling over words when you are bursting with ideas -- unable to convince your listeners that you, too, KNOW things. We tend to think of people who are not fluent in our language as children... they are "cute," and their speech is "quaint." Rarely "wise" or "penetrating." They make us smile, not think.

We have some friends who are Austrian. They lived here for a couple of years, and when we first met them he had been speaking English for SIX WEEKS! He was fairly conversant, but you could see the fear in his eyes and the tension in his body. We had lunch with them one day -- and then we didn't see them for another year. When we DID see them, it was like meeting a new person! He was relaxed, laughing, completely at ease in his second language. He had been in seminary! Living daily in a foreign land. That is when I switched language programs: forget the grammar, who has time? Teach me to listen, hear, and speak. To understand. Just enough. I may always be fearful, tense, and timid with French, because I don't expect to ever LIVE with it. But that's no reason to stop trying, I suppose...

I try to remind myself that no effort is wasted, and every little bit does build another brick.

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I have four projects waiting for me on or under my desk: a shawl to knit, some canvases to paint, some apron patterns to attempt, and a garland of felt circles to stitch and string for Christmas. I occasionally read crafty/decorative blogs, but I can't do too much of that because they leave me in their dust! WHERE do people find the time to do so many lovely projects? It's 11 am and I'm already behind (because here I sit, while waiting on the boy... when I could be accomplishing SOMETHING...). It's not the homeschooling that ties me down, either -- I can't imagine that those extra hours of empty house that I might inherit with "real school" would actually STAY empty for long.

So... my latest decision has been to let it rest and when I have the time and inclination, to hit it. Also, I keep a project by the sofa. If I once make the effort to start, I usually find a burst of energy, enough to feel productive. Evenings are hard, aren't they? No matter how little or how much has been accomplished, I'm always tired. Might as well be tired AND creative, though. :)

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And I will end on that random note, in order to get something done with my kid over here before lunch and swim. The porch feels good this morning... time to open the doors. And the bottle of Claritin...

Shifting Down

2010-09-27T23:50:00.001-04:00

The other night we had dinner with friends. In a casual context, our friend was laughing over some of his experiences in various types of churches and parachurch organizations. He kinda ran his hand over his face and said, "We were just supposed to 'let go' and all of this would supposedly happen... and I wanted to 'let go' so badly, I would have done anything... but I don't know, 'letting go' got to feeling a lot like 'doing something.' "

Something clicked for me in that offhand moment. I can name that thing (whatever issue may be pressing) whatever I like, and I can rename it to make myself feel better or make it seem less intimidating... maybe it makes it sound more spiritual if I put other labels on it. But in the end, it almost always boils down to this:

I am a self-centered person who would love nothing better than to turn this God-centered faith around and make it into a religion all about myself. It doesn't matter if I'm "letting go" or "doing the best I can," eventually I will end up right where I started: a person impotent to change my own heart, a person whose mind can never think God's thoughts after Him with any skill.

I'm shifting down again. I'm not doing the best I can anymore -- and neither am I letting go --

finally I'm attempting to "just live before the face of God (coram Deo)." Life "is what it is" -- and what it truly and deeply is is God's will for me: THIS 24 hours and all that it contains holds the promise of my sanctification.

"For this is the will of God: your sanctification..."
I Thess. 4:3

"In Him we live, move, and have our being..."
Acts 17:28

First Catechism:

Q. 39. What is a change of heart called?
A. Regeneration.

Q. 40. Who can change a sinner's heart?
A. The Holy Spirit alone.

Also see this post on "The Anti-Psalm."

A Fallish Project

2010-09-27T01:22:00.004-04:00

This summer I blogged about a knit shop called "The Whole Nine Yards." My friend and I took two of our girls to a two-day knitting class there, which was just wonderful. It was a very inspiring place -- not cheap, but very inspiring. :) There was a demo sweater there that I fell in love with, and lo and behold, they were offering a class that was starting the following week: all you needed to do was purchase about 12 skeins of yarn that cost about $12 apiece... and then pay the $50 for the class... and then, of course, knit the sweater without making a mistake because you might have apoplexy if you did, due to the pressure of knitting a $150 project as your first experience in the knitting pattern world.

I am quite adept at knitting scarves. The last two winters, I have been happy enough with that. But after seeing the beautiful yarn there, and the variety of projects available to a person who can actually read a pattern, I may not have been quite ready to drop $200 plus dollars on a "beginner" class, but I was ready to start learning.

So first I borrowed my daughter's book, and I gathered old yarn and needles:

Next I sat for several evenings while the fam watched a tv show, and knit rows, practicing all the simple stitches that I had never quite conquered -- the same ones Claire and Priscilla had just learned -- and I tried to get fairly comfortable with k2tog, and sl,sl,st, and yo, and using place markers, etc...

The pattern is truly a beginner pattern, but it's everything you'd want in a finished project: soft, warm, and wearable. :) There are two things I'd like to be able to knit, and I will be completely satisfied if I ever learn to do both, and that's 1. a shawl and 2. a sweater. So my deal with myself was to conquer this pattern, do it several times if need be, and then attempt the sweater. (they say it's not a difficult pattern... the knit shop people are available for help... I have two friends who are excellent knitters... surely eventually this could happen? I'm hopeful but not holding my breath! It's a goal, anyway. And you know what Kit Deluca says: "Ya gotta have a goal.") ;)

After I started to feel comfortable with the basic stitches, I found some great yarn on sale for $2.50 a skein. I needed 3 skeins. The pressure is OFF when they whole project costs about $10. By the way, this yarn was DEFINITELY not found in the knit shop!

Oh, the colors... it is very difficult to decide. I landed on this -- it has both grays and browns threaded through the cream. It looks comforting, like rice pudding or vanilla ice cream, and it feels like holding a baby lamb in your lap. A good project to start this first week of fall:

When I am done, I hope it will look something like this:

And here is a picture of Oliver, thrown in for good measure, since I'm writing about soft and furry things in my lap. :)

If I get stuck, I already have a friend ready to meet me somewhere and walk me through it. So -- I don't even have to dread my mistakes! Ha ha!

The rain finally fell today, after a long, hot, dry September. It did a number on my hair, but other than that, it felt good. I don't mind the wet, if only the temps will fall with the raindrops... I am ready for some fall weather to enjoy along with my fall projects.

I'm also enjoying reading about other creative people's ideas out there recently. I think the seasonal changes bring about a resurgence of old and new interests and inspirations... motivation... and happy pursuits of creative pleasures. Other people's passions seem to make my sparks fly, too... Feel free to share.

Kept

2010-09-23T06:08:00.000-04:00

"As they moved on each day, the cloud of the Lord hovered over them.

And whenever the ark set out, Moses would cry,
'Arise O Lord, and let your enemies be scattered!
Let them flee before You!'

And when the ark was set down, he would say,
'Return, O Lord, to the countless thousands of Israel.' "

Numbers 10:34-36

God moves with us. He marches before us in might --

and settles with us in peace.

"He is actually not far from each one of us,

for in Him we live, move, and have our being."

Acts 17:27-28

Practicing the Art of Believing

2010-09-21T06:10:00.001-04:00

"Christ wants to teach us that we should look at trials and suffering very differently than the way it appears and feels to us in this world...

It will serve for the best."

Martin Luther

Pruning by a diligent gardener. That is what our trials are. He strips and cuts and pinches branches that take strength and sap away from me. The result: more fruit, and better wine.

"There is an art to believing..." Martin Luther

Jonathan Edwards, Resolution #25:

"Resolved, to examine carefully and constantly what that one thing is in me which causes me in the least to doubt the love of God; and to direct all my forces against it."

"We should believe God when He promises to love and protect us,
take care of us,
and listen to us,
even though we may not see it..." ML

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen."
Hebrews 11:1

The Essential Point of Gratitude

2010-09-19T21:06:00.001-04:00

I have been part of a "Gratitude Community" in the blogging world, and the woman who began this growing circle is a beautiful woman whose experience of chronicling her gratitude has literally changed her life. I love being a part of this and reading her details and the way she sees behind them to the ultimate realities.

I have noticed something in my own experiences, however. This ability to see and distinguish a gift, this ability to feel gratitude and the blessing of knowing Who to thank for the gifts... these things are not complete. I always feel there is something missing, and I can actually feel mildly frustrated at times when I see the most beautiful sunset -- and feel an ache inside at the same time. To sit on a beach in fall and breathe that tangy air and see everything and everyone glowing around me, and still feel... this small lack. What is it? What else could one possibly long for in a moment like that? And isn't it ungrateful?

This week I read a sermon that C.S. Lewis gave in 1942. It is not obscure, but I had not read it in its entirety before. Some of it was familiar -- but all of it hit me right between the eyes. I felt illuminated and freed and so blessed by his words. It is too long to copy entirely, but here is just a part of what tweaked my vision like a new pair of glasses:

"I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you - the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret that we cannot hide but cannot tell, though we desire to do both...

Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that settled the matter. Wordsworth's expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would have turned out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not IN them, it only came THROUGH them, and what came through them was longing.

These things - the beauty, the memory of our own past - are good images of what we really desire, but if they are taken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.

Do you think I am trying to weave a spell? Perhaps I am, but remember your fairy tales: spells are for breaking enchantments as well as for inducing them. And you and I have need of the strongest spell that can be found to wake us from the evil enchantment of worldliness that has been laid upon us...

We usually notice... just as the moment of vision dies away, as the music ends or as the landscape loses its celestial light... what Keats describes as 'the journey homeward to the habitual self.' You know what I mean. For a few minutes we have had the illusion of belonging to that world. Now we wake to find that it is no such thing. We have been mere spectators. Beauty has smiled, but not to welcome us; her face was turned in our direction, but not to see us. We have not been accepted, welcomed, or taken into the dance. We may go when we please, we may stay if we can. 'Nobody marks us.'

...It is not the physical objects that I am speaking of, but that indescribable something of which they become for a moment the messengers. And part of the bitterness which mixes with the sweetness of that message is due to the fact that it so seldom seems to be a message intended for us but rather something we have overheard.

By bitterness I mean pain, not resentment. We should hardly dare to ask that any notice be taken of ourselves. But we pine. The sense that in this universe we are treated as strangers, the longing to be acknowledged, to meet with some response, to bridge some chasm that yawns between us and reality, is part of our inconsolable secret. And surely, from this point of view, the promise of glory, in the sense described, becomes highly relevant to our deep desire. For glory meant good report with God, acceptance by God, response, acknowledgment, and welcome into the heart of things. The door on which we have been knocking all our lives will open at last...

We can all be left utterly and absolutely outside -- repelled, exiled, estranged, finally and unspeakably ignored. On the other hand, we can be called in, welcomed, received, acknowledged. We walk every day on the razor edge between these two incredible possibilities. Apparently, then, our lifelong nostalgia, our longing to be reunited with something in the universe from which we now feel cut off, to be on the inside of some door which we have always seen from the outside, is no mere neurotic fancy, but the truest index of our real situation. And to be at last summoned inside would be both glory and honor beyond all our merits and also the healing of that old ache...

At present, if we are reborn in Christ, the spirit in us lives directly on God; but the mind, and still more, the body receives life from Him at a thousand removes - through our ancestors, through our food, through the elements. The faint, far-off results of those energies which God's creative rapture implanted in matter when He made the worlds are what we now call physical pleasures; and even thus filtered, they are too much for our present management. What would it be to taste at the fountainhead that stream of which even these lower reaches prove so intoxicating? Yet that, I believe, is what lies before us. The whole man is to drink joy from the fountain of joy...

The body was made for the Lord, and these dismal fancies are wide of the mark.

Meanwhile the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside. The following Him, is, of course, the essential point..."

And so I think I have a new appreciation for Ann's life-changing efforts at marking these daily things. They are not an end in themselves, to make one FEEL better, more at peace, more accepting or loving or satisfied. To the contrary, the effort itself may often bring about that "old ache" that reminds us again and again that we are only pilgrims here, on a long, hard journey homeward. And it is that journey that is, of course, the essential point...

So we learn to breathe with the ache instead of resisting it. In doing so, we may find ourselves to be made not less, as we often fear... but more of what we were intended to be. In this case, at least, it is living with our lack that will ultimately make us whole.

Smile. God Loves You.

2010-09-17T01:21:00.009-04:00

The Lord is merciful and gracious,
slow to anger,
abounding in steadfast love...
He does not deal with us according to our sins,
nor repay us according to our iniquities.
For as high as the heavens are above the earth,
so great is His steadfast love toward those who fear Him.
As far as the east is from the west,
so far does He remove our transgressions from us.
As a father shows compassion to his children,
so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him.

For He knows our frame.
He remembers:
we are dust.

Psalm 103

In a world where sackcloth and ashes are appropriate attire, a smile is an act of FAITH, not presumption.

In a world turned upside-down, it is JOY that reveals true humility.
It is pride and rebellion that refuse to let go of the sins God wills to fling into the ocean;
it is arrogance to think that my sadness can atone for my sins, past or future --
or that any guilt-induced act of charity or contrition can truly and ultimately redeem a brokenness in my life or another's.

In reality, it is faith that saves both myself and others -- not any of those deeply ingrained and innate human reactions to the pervasiveness of the effects of the fall that we all share. They may be instruments used in God's right hand to bring comfort, but I know this: I am no savior.

Despite what we see or how we feel, this is what we hear:
"Steadfast love SURROUNDS the one who trusts in the Lord." Psalm 32:10

This is what it boils down to:
TRUST.

The words of God, then, become food and water, life and breath -- a way of seeing and knowing everything. And God is The Great Perceiver: as George Berkeley put it, "Truth is that which corresponds to reality as it is perceived by God." Our own hearts deceive us, and we are deceived. But when we listen and watch for "The One Thing that is needed," we find Ann Voskamp's words to be true:

"The uncontainable God reveals Himself in the smallest containers of grace."

Faith consists in an awareness that I am more than I know, said Madeleine L'engle. And Martin Luther said it best, many years ago:

"I must look elsewhere -- and see no sin.
This is wonderful, not to see what I see, not to feel what I feel...
Salvation is outside of ourselves."

Strongholds, high places, and idols are shattered when we listen and pay attention to the voice of The Great Perceiver speaking truth to our hearts; He alone can remove the scales and open the ears, and soften the hearts.

And so it ought not to be only the world that Christ's disciples turn upside down (Acts 17:6) -- it ought also to be our frowns.

Rejoice always,
pray without ceasing,
give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
I Thess. 5:16-17

Putting It to Rest

2010-09-14T23:18:00.000-04:00

I told my husband today that every fall and spring it hits, I should not be surprised anymore: the endless to-do list. I may not live on the prairie, and I may not have to "put away" supplies for the coming winter months because the train can't get through for months of long winter, BUT...

in Georgia we basically have 2 seasons: cold and hot. There are some gorgeous days in between, but they tend to go as suddenly as they came. And when they do, your kids better have some appropriate clothing.

When you have 3 or more kids, this gets tricky. Especially when they start having opinions. And activities. I mean, when they were small it was tricky enough, but now I not only have to find the clothes (and find the money for the clothes), there is also the last minute "oh, yeah -- I need this and so for this and that activity!" AND I also have to squeeze in the shopping trips (oh the endless, exhausting, stressful shopping trips to juniors shops where the music is so loud and STRANGE that it quite paralyzes one who needs to THINK, for goodness' sake!) in between those activities: the swim practices, piano lessons, chorus rehearsals, youth group meetings and activities, birthday parties, babysitting gigs, doctor's appointments, haircuts, and Bible studies.

Oh, and school.

My girls have quit growing for the most part, and so we're left with replacing worn out items (jeans, shoes, undies, pj's) and sprucing up the wardrobe with just enough "pretties" to keep them feeling in sync with their world. This seems like it might be easier, but in reality it is much more complicated. I walk by the aisles of pink shirts with ballet slippers on the front; the Gymboree store where everything goes with everything; and the Disney store full of iconic princess clothing, and mourn the loss of simplicity.

...but then Jack tells me he DEFINITELY wants "cool pj's" this year, and when asked, describes this as "something Star Wars." So, I'm still good for awhile.

Lately, for every 2 items I check off of my to-do list, another 3 seem to make their way back onto it. (thus my phrase: "the endless to-do list!"). I feel like the dog that tries to catch its own tail: what am I accomplishing here? It's frustrating, and I'm frustrated. I have to apologize to my teenager, explain to her that I do not begrudge her the clothing, I do not begrudge her the time that it took me to find the clothing -- but I'm frustrated and overwhelmed in my tired moments, just like she is frustrated and tired with her geometry in the early mornings when the entire school day is still looming before her, un-begun.

There are days I find myself praying, "I don't know what I'm doing..." but maybe it helps a 15 year old to know that's life, and we all struggle. As I keep telling Courtney, we have to find out how to bring our Christianity down into our life. What does it mean to be a Christian, when you're broke and tired and stressed and frustrated and the junior's shops play their music TOO LOUD FOR OLD PEOPLE??? :)

(And if you are afflicted with a bad case of over-thinking-itis, like I am, there is the eternal question: how much does one NEED?
But this is a question for another day. Probably the last day of my life, because I am beginning to think I will never feel comfortable with money. Ever. There are too many starving children for me to ever feel quite comfortable buying jeans at the mall, or makeup at Target...

but I digress.)

Sometimes, for me, it just means talking to my daughter about my tiredness and irritability instead of walking away to gain a few precious moments of solitude. To wait for her eyes to clear up, not because I'm suddenly wearing a halo again, but because we both get that. She gets it. And we're learning, both of us, to be gracious with each other... to grant space and time to a stressed person.

Sometimes it means simply going to bed and letting the dark fall, knowing that mercy is new for the taking every morning...

When I was young, I never thought to say, "Thank you, Lord God, for making NIGHT." And now it has become a distinct pleasure. I love "putting my days to rest," once and for all, knowing that what is undone will be kept by God who never sleeps nor slumbers, and my shortcomings are cast far away into the sea of His merciful forgetfulness.

As we came home tonight, tired and hungry, with a layer of mall-grunge and day's dirt upon us, longing for food and baths and clean sheets, the sun set like a liquid ball of glory on the horizon, and the clouds were strung out like a multitude of angels' wings. I wished I could have heard what that song sounded like so long ago: "Glory in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill to men..." And I recalled the words I recently wrote and taped in a very visible place:

Live unashamed and unafraid. Love covers a multitude of sins -- and perfect love casts out fear. Gather God's glory with your senses, and be thankful.

In the evenings His glory falls upon us in golden shades; it reflects and beautifies, bringing color to what was drab, bringing life even to cold gray stones, making them into works of art for the few moments that they are touched by golden rays. Faces are softened, skin warmed, eyes lit. And then, He puts it all to rest, under cover of darkness. Through the night, He sings over us until we awake to receive His mercy -- brand new every morning! Great is His faithfulness. What an unspeakable gift, every single day. Every single night.

I am silly and bound to earth... I'm plain and without sense most of the time... I feel fear and anxiety and stress and I wonder, "Am I doing this right?" I tend to see the flaws under the glaring mid-day sun. I scrutinize and wince.

But when the sun sets and the angels' wings whisper glory, I have to learn to be silenced by the reality of His hovering, creative Spirit that is always at work, and His artistry that may only be glimpsed fleetingly. To look up and away from self, from glaring flaws, into the warmth of a sun setting upon God's children, falling behind and before, settling all around, making art out of the nooks and the crannies and the imperfections where shadows hide.

His grace is sufficient. What an understatement! "It's enough." We sing with the music in the car on the tired ride home:

"Hold on, He will carry us; Hold on, He will carry us home..."

"For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened —
not that we would be unclothed,
but that we would be further clothed,
so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.
He who has prepared us for this very thing is God,
who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee."
2 Cor. 5:4-5

Taking Flight

2010-09-11T22:08:00.006-04:00

I saw this little guy out my front window one day last week. He was busy fluttering around from one flower to the next, doing his beautiful thing. By the end of the week, I felt rather "butterfly-ish" myself -- lots of beautiful things going on, but not enough time to give to any particular one.

Or maybe I have all the time in the world to do all the things meant for me to do... only I'm too distracted by all the many beautiful juicy things surrounding me. Sometimes life seems to be chock full of distracting, beautiful, juicy things, and I feel worn out and dizzy trying to drink it all in.

Butterflies have a relatively short life -- and their caterpillar selves had even shorter spans. Do you think they know this, instinctively? Are they intuitively trying to enjoy the most beautiful things they can while they have the time? If I were a butterfly, I'd probably have a mental agenda: "this bush, then that one... and next the other. 1, 2, 3..." And I'd probably know how many minutes to alot to each for highest efficiency purposes.

But somehow I don't think this bright little thing had any plans going on... he was flitting and fluttering wherever his heart led him.

Sitting on and under my desk right now are several ongoing projects. I'm a short-term project kinda gal, I've learned that about myself. (I decided long ago: It's better to be honest than shadowed by vague uncompleted-project guilt). :)

When I start a project, or when I get a creative inspiration and can't wait to start a project, there is a general restlessness that accompanies the muse, and it reminds me of a butterfly. It lights on this and that, making it hard to settle to one completed task.

And all the while, there is an 8 year old that needs to be taught, a house to be cleaned, meals that need to be planned and prepared daily, errands that need to be run, gifts to be bought, and clothing to be stored away. These things rarely satisfy my creative urges, and I am often tempted to tend to them with the proverbial "lick and a promise." But I've learned this: every day, distractions await. Every day, there are justifications and excuses to be found in every nook and cranny of life.

Gitz has a canvas painted with these words:
"Some people pursue happiness. Others create it."

There is a kind of happiness that lights upon your shoulder like this butterfly -- it stays as long as it wishes, and leaves at will. On those days, my heart is less settled and creativity brings ideals and hopes -- and there is something about that that does make life easier, because it gives me something to look forward to, something light to consider, something beautiful to look at, something to do with busy, restless hands.

But generally speaking, I'm not a naturally sanguine, perky person, and so when I say "happiness," what I'm thinking about is more along the lines of JOY. Kinda like that "blessedness" that Jesus mentions in His Sermon on the Mount -- something deeper and less volatile. More settled, less "butterflyish."

I'm looking forward to tackling a few beautiful projects in the coming weeks, in the cracks of my "normal" routine days (for which I am thankful). But in the meantime, my prayer is that the "givens" -- those things that are made for me to do each day -- will become places where I can spread the joy, and also apply some creativity. Life itself can be a canvas, right? I'm learning something about this, but it's slow in coming and I'm a flighty little thing...

The Mission of Housekeeping

2010-09-08T21:24:00.001-04:00

"Come, O blessed of my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you clothed me. I was sick and you visited me...

Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me." (Matthew 25:34-40)

"There is a tendency, I think, on the part of those of us who are well fed, clothed, and housed to imagine that the needy people to whom Jesus refers in Matthew 25 are people we don't know...

But housework is all about feeding and clothing and sheltering people who, in the absence of that daily work, would otherwise be hungry and ill-clad and ill-housed.

There is undoubtedly more to the merciful service that Jesus describes in Matthew 25 than caring for the daily needs of the members of our own households. Housework is a beginning, not an end.

But it is a beginning --

not a sidetrack, not a distraction, but a beginning, and an essential one at that -- in the properly Christian work of, among other things, meeting the everyday needs of others, whether those be our fellow household members, our near neighbors, or people who are more sociologically or geographically distant from ourselves."

From Housekeeping: The Litany of Everyday Life, by Margaret Kim Peterson

Monday Deserves Sticky Toffee Sauce

2010-09-06T23:45:00.001-04:00

Publix has a new (very small) section that I recently discovered to my delight. Ah, British ingredients! When you think of good food, you may not automatically think "Great Britain!" but when Nigella Lawson cooks, you find yourself wondering if maybe a plane ticket over the Big Blue would be a small price to pay to find such items as she has on her shelf.

This week I watched Nigella make "Sticky Toffee Sauce," which she then poured over vanilla bean ice cream. She used something called "Golden Syrup," which is a very British staple. Hard to find here. But I recalled seeing it on that shelf at Publix...

This is what it looks like inside. Lets see if I can describe it as Nigella would describe it:
Look at this golden, sweet, sticky syrup... its amber color reminds one of honey right from the comb. But it tastes like caramel, almost... you could eat it right from the tin, but lets dress it up a little, shall we?

So tonight was our last night of a long weekend, and tomorrow our school days begin in earnest -- here come swim practices, swim meets, and piano lessons once again. In honor of our gloriously fall-like weekend of rest, I made "Sticky Toffee Sauce" for dessert while the kids washed up.

First comes 3/4 c. of brown sugar and 2/3 stick of butter, added to "one great mounding spoonful" of that golden syrup (if you aren't near a Publix, or your Publix doesn't carry British foods, substitute dark corn syrup, she says. This is why I like Nigella: she is NOT a fussy cook). Stir a bit until it's all melty and syrupy.

As it cooks, it turns into what Nigella describes as a "glorious, dark, sticky mess." She also said it smells like treacle. Well, okay then.

When it "erupts and bubbles at the edges," you pour in 2/3 cup of heavy cream (I'm going for the healthy version, so I used half-n-half. ha.). Give that a good stir for a minute, until it's thickened a bit, smoothed out, and oh, so creamy! When it becomes "volcanic," you're done! You're there, in dessert heaven.

Nigella serves this over vanilla ice cream because:
"Some of it stays molten and warm, and some of it solidifies slightly, and so you've got nuggets of sticky toffee."

You should see HER serving sizes. I LOVE LOVE LOVE it that she never blinks an eye. "That should keep me busy for awhile!" she says. Only a powerful woman can eat a dessert like that with no regret. She's my hero.

Labor Days

2010-09-05T22:16:00.014-04:00

Let me but do my work from day to day,

In field or forest, at the desk or loom,

In roaring market-place or tranquil room;

Let me but find it in my heart to say,

When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,

"This is my work; my blessing, not my doom..."

Henry Van Dyke, Work

Creativity, Shared

2010-09-04T00:11:00.000-04:00

Well, life is full of irony. Yesterday I wrote about "Creativity, Interrupted." I also linked to gitzengirl. Today at gitzengirl there is a giveaway, and the theme is ... guess... creativity.

I don't have much to show for my creative efforts lately. I have a knitting bag with yarn and needles sitting by the sofa in the living room. Whenever I finally do take a load off and SIT with my girls in the evenings to watch a favorite movie, I find I'm much less restless if I'm working on something productive at the same time. We're all learning to knit -- that is, we're learning to do something besides garter stitching winter scarves. What that means for me at this time is lots of knitting that gets unraveled again and again. I'm not ready for patterns or pressure. I just need consistency! "Knit, purl, knit... wait, what?" So, no pics of that.

I could take pics (and oh yes, I did...) of the beautiful yarn that makes me covet. The yarn that drives me to learn to knit, so I can just sit and feel that beautiful stuff on my lap in mid-winter. But that would be cheating, since someone else wove it and dyed it.

My other current project is a scrapbook which is almost caught up. I'll save that one for next week. I should be finished by then -- and yes, caught up! It was my summer project, it's just straying a bit into fall.

So what I'm left with at the moment is my art project notebook.

This is nothing fancy and nothing original. The theme I chose was "A Day in the Life," and my idea was to use scraps of paper, color, pictures... torn edges, ribbons, and scraps of conversations to convey what each day for a period of time looks for me. My desire is that by "framing" the days with beauty (I'm "framing" each set of facing pages with a quote of some sort that will complement the picture and my brief descriptions of each day...) some sort of pattern will emerge from the scraps, kind of like a quilt. My goal is to show that what Ann says is so true -- there is extraordinary beauty in ordinary moments.

I am unabashedly riding on Ann Voskamp's coat tails, because I pretty much think her ideas regarding WHAT to do with all these gorgeous glossy magazine pictures that stack up in the basket by the sofa are ingenious; I also see the result of her labor to cultivate gratitude and awareness in her life, and to be honest, I would like to do the same. So yes, this is a creative outlet -- but it's also a spiritual discipline.

The beauty of this particular project is that no two notebooks will ever be alike, even if thousands of people join the ranks.

It's a quick fix, and I love short-term projects like that. It's as simple as cutting, pasting, and writing... satisfyingly kindergartenish. It combines a visual with a verbal element, and while that can be daunting sometimes, I only do it one day at a time -- it's never completely overwhelming. My hope is that what will unfold will be unified in some way that I can't see as yet. In the meantime, I'm enjoying playing with color and words and juxtaposing the angles of each to "frame" my days.

I have TERRIBLE, terrible luck at drawings and giveaways, but the quote on the canvas that is being given away was a starting point for my notebook entry yesterday... it has a special meaning to me, as it was also the day I discovered Gitz. That was a good day in my bloggy life. Maybe it will bring me luck!

If not, I may just have to go out and buy my own blank canvas and start getting creative again, myself. If imitation is the sincerest form of flattey, I seem to be on a roll here...

Creativity, Interrupted

2010-09-03T00:37:00.002-04:00

My last post covered some basics about how we spend our days. Those are the "givens," the tasks at hand that I am responsible to cover with and for my children. I like to compare it to a garden: it has to be tended, weeded, fed, watered. Daily.

Planning a garden is an act of creativity. In mid-winter, it's an act of hope to browse seed catalogs and plan for spring. When that first spring breeze blows through the open windows, it doesn't matter how green - or black - your thumb is, you're at the garden center of the nearest retail store, looking for flowers! And tomatoes! And baby fruit trees! Oh, the planning stage is fun and it feels so good.

But summer is more... laden with realism. The dreamy spring days are gone, and it's HOT in Georgia. Not to mention HUMID. I will be the first to confess that it takes me about 2 brutal weeks of summer and watering and weeding to be quite "over it." Hothouse tomatoes look better when you've put in overtime in the yard and yours are still smallish and greenish. By the time the grapes come in in late August, we're almost not interested anymore. :)

(I said "almost." Fall brings its own return of interest to life in general, and grapes and pumpkins and mums are all rolled in there with that...)

This has been an extended metaphor, so let me explain it now for those who might be confused:

I am a gardener, and my home is a garden, lets say. This is a biblical allusion as well as a poetic one, used by many many others before me! So now lets say the people in this home are to be "well-watered souls," as the Bible says. "Fat souls," as Nancy Wilson says. Some gardeners are work-horses: "There is a task to do," they say. "Lets get 'er done." And some gardeners are head-in-the-cloud types, like myself. We prefer the lovely planning stages, when everything is neat and orderly and still in our imaginations. In MY imagination, I have time for all of my responsibilities

and...

also time for body, soul, mind, and spirit. My own, that is.

In other words, in my mind, I have time to "be creative." I try to make time in my schedule for silence and stillness and writing and reading and foreign language study and knitting and yes... even fun. :)

I leave time for friends and family and church community life (at least, I leave it on paper!). I cook every night, and I suppose that could be called creative. ( Is it creative if it's mandatory and expected? Hmmm...)

I spend early mornings "visiting" with a few select writers via their blogs, and that heightens the creative juices, gets them flowing real good while I sip that jolt of caffeine from my favorite cup. I have so many good ideas in the morning, and with them comes that feeling of hopefulness that IDEAS bring...

My last child, my baby, is 8. He is in 3rd grade this year. This is my only boy, and there is a 5 year gap between him and his older sister. I know that one day he will be a big fella and I don't expect him to want to sit at home with me during 4 years of manly high school. I do expect that my years with him at home with be shorter than they were with my girls. You know how it is, when you know a thing won't last long, it's easier to be still and patient. I don't mind teaching 3rd grade again. I really don't! But I will admit that the times tables don't feel particularly... creative.

I do my best to work in a few "creative" moments to the calendar, and hope springs eternal EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Yes, every single day of the school year I honestly think that after dinner, I will do something creative. I will be done with my tasks and I will do something "interesting."

(Are you a parent? Are you laughing yet?)

Generally speaking, to be creative it helps not to be TIRED. Or at least that's how it FEELS. In reality, I usually find that if I can resist the sofa's soft cushions... if I can make myself THINK... I'm usually okay for a couple more hours. If dinner was served in a timely fashion, and you just never do know about that anymore!

I have a new little project that I've committed to. From now until January, I have a little empty red moleskin notebook that needs to be filled CREATIVELY. When it's filled (which has to be done by January!) it will be shipped to an art gallery and put on display with thousands of others from around the world. It is already tagged and in the system. I'm committed. This show will be traveling throughout the USA in 2011, and Atlanta is on the map. The girls and I signed up for the project together, and we look forward to visiting the gallery while it's here, seeing who may have glanced at our humble notebooks, and then taking plenty of time to view the many others out there who are surely more creative than myself. But that's beside the point, really -- the point is communal, meaningful art, as well as taking the time to participate in the nature of God, who is the Master Creator. As the wise Preacher said once upon a time, "He has put eternity into [our] hearts."

A small, empty, red moleskin notebook should not be a daunting task for me. And yet, EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I see it on my desk and think, "today. or tonight." And then I see it at 11pm and shake my head. "Tomorrow afternoon. Or evening." I'm starting to get nervous! Who would have thought that one little notebook would undo me?

For someone who has an ounce of creativity in them -- and trust me, I'm no artist -- life with its daily rounds, however organized or well-planned they may be, can be one of the "small sorrows" that Victor Hugo mentioned, the one I read today and copied into my little red notebook:

"Have courage for the great sorrows and patience for the small ones. And when you have finished your daily task, go to sleep in peace.

God is awake."

I read this today at gitzengirl blog, and let me tell you -- it holds a double meaning when you read her beautiful story. No, wait -- it holds a triple or quadruple meaning. I feel deeply indebted to Gitz for explaining her joy to me today:

"I am blessed because I take nothing for granted. I love what I have instead of yearning for what I lack. I choose to be happy, and I am. It really is that simple, people. Start every day by being thankful and celebrate your life instead of devaluing it."

If it's not "given" to me to accomplish today, then God can keep it. He's capable, and He won't forget anything I might remember. If it comes down to it, and I go to bed for one last time and my projects still aren't "done," heaven will not fall from the sky. I may not ever feel like my efforts at homemaking and childrearing are all that creative, despite the books on my shelf that tell me differently, but this is where a submissive spirit comes in handy: God is the Master Potter, a Weaver of beautiful colors, a Scientist of reknown, a spellbinding Story-teller, a Mathemetician with ingenious methods, a Singer, Songwriter, Historian, Family member and Friend. He does all of this poetically -- with rough, prosaic means -- and invites me to join Him at His creative best.

So...

"When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him,

and the son of man that you care for him?

Yet you have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings

and crowned him with glory and honor.

You have given him dominion over the works of your hands..."

(Psalm 8)

I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,

who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;

he who keeps you will not slumber.

Behold, he who keeps Israel

will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;

the Lord is your shade on your right hand.

The sun shall not strike you by day,

nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;

he will keep your life.

The Lord will keep

your going out and your coming in

from this time forth and forevermore.

(Psalm 121)

We are His well-watered garden, and He tends to us daily. He still says to us today, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’" (John 7:37-38)

We are His sheep, just the flock of His hand. He leads beside still waters, and restores souls. Creativity can't flow without a Source. The beautiful thing about living water is that it never dries up. The hard thing for me to do is stop and drink. It doesn't feel..

creative.

There is duty, and there is pleasure. And sometimes there is pleasure in the duties, when I see rightly.

Gitz may not be able to hold a brush for much longer, and she may never set foot outside her apartment into the lovely warm sunshine again. But her satisfaction in her small "givens" reminded me of where true beauty and satisfaction lie for us, and WHY it is we long to create. We will meet up there one day, and we won't be lolling around on clouds when we do. Our home is being kept for us, while we are here, searching for the bits and pieces that we hope will make us feel less homesick. God has great keeping power, to keep bodies, souls - and heaven - for us, for as long as need be. Our knack for creating will follow us beyond the grave, just like Christ's scars followed Him. Only over there, there will be no thorns and thistles -- and no interruptions. Life will not only imitate art -- it will be art, of the very best kind.

Come, everyone who thirsts,

come to the waters...

(Isaiah 55)

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden,

and I will give you rest.

(Matthew 11)

Take rest. A field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.

(Ovid)

Take a deep breath. Rest and be beautiful! It's all kept...

The Ways We Spend our Days

2010-08-31T00:01:00.069-04:00

What is a typical week for us?

Well. First we have coffee.

Monday:
8 - 12:00 school
lunch
1-2:00 more school
2 - 4:30 piano lessons
home to rest, dinner, and an evening together

Tuesday:
9:30 - 12:30 nursery work for the girls and school for Jack
lunch
school
5:00-8:00 chorus
home for a late dinner together

Wednesday:
home and school until 5
church dinner, church choir and children's/youth activities till 8:30 (this is a great mid-week social break for everyone)

Thursday:
home and school
Other than Claire's art class from 3:30-5:00 (which is very close and very convenient, since I only have to drive one way!), we are home all day and can enjoy a nice homemade dinner together at a decent hour!

Friday:
ah -- a full day at home. :) This tends to be our "catch-up" day for housework, menu planning, budgeting, socializing and sometimes errand-running and/or appointments. I try to keep it fairly empty, though, because everyone needs at least one day of absolutely-nowhere-to-go.


Typical "school hours" look like this:

7:30 up and at 'em, with time to wake up slowly and drink that coffee (or tea)

8:30 the girls start cracking the books

9:00   we all gather round the table and have some time with our history book and the Bible and prayer ("establish the work of our hands!")

if we get done early, the girls sometimes go for a run to wake themselves up!

10:00   Jack and I begin in earnest at that same kitchen table. The girls scatter with their textbooks. They are very independent workers at this stage.

Jack typically does math and then jumps on the trampoline for 5 minutes. Then we do spelling and vocabulary, then jump for another 5 minutes. Then we do Grammar and jump again.

By this time it's usually lunch time.

We take a decent lunch break, between 30 minutes to an hour, and sometimes we'll watch a fun family show together to let the brains relax. :) Sometimes if the weather is lovely we sit on the back porch for awhile. Sometimes the girls eat with a good book open on the table.

Then we tackle the next batch of subjects (for Jack that is reading, science, and Bible memory/catechism work) until it's time to hit the road! If there is waiting involved (like during piano lessons) we bring books to work on.

On Tuesdays the girls have a little part-time job this year watching our babies at church while the moms participate in a women's Bible study. While they do that, my plan is to take Jack to the library with his books and get most of his work done there, along with some extra reading. Occasionally I may choose to run errands instead. I reserve that right!

I hope it will all pan out, but every fall it's a process of figuring out what works and what doesn't. So far, we're good, but we are yet to experience the full schedule, so ask me in a few weeks and I'll let ya know!   It's an adventure, and expectations are best left at the door...

To me, fall always means new plans, schedules, and school supplies. It also means mommy-talk, comparisons and brainstorming. What about you?   What are your thoughts, plans, and dreams for 2010-2011?

Multitude Monday

2010-08-29T23:06:00.006-04:00

I was laughing today with a couple of friends as we all agreed: normal is so over. There are no "normal" days -- "abnormal" is the new "normal." And yet for some reason I still hold on to the definition of "normal" as low-stress, no-interruptions, life as planned, to-do list done. I am in the midst of coming to grips with reality as explained in Ecclesiastes:

"In the day of prosperity, be joyful. But in the day of adversity, consider:
God has made one as well as the other."
Ecc. 7:14

It was a lovely weekend, and I consider us to be prospering. But the prospering is always mixed the adversity, isn't it?

My plans were changed and rearranged this weekend with a fairly spontaneous visit from my brother and his kids, whom I love and adore. We were happy to have them, but Friday was not "normal." :) And then I made tentative plans for Saturday, but they got changed, too. Still it was a happy reason for interruptions and such.

My brother, sister, and I are night owls. Our spouses are not! Whenever we are together, we put the kids to bed and grab the ice cream and cookies before heading to the nearest comfortable spot where we sit for HOURS until we can't prop our eyes open anymore. (this is usually sometime between 2 and 3 am... by this point the in-laws among us have usually disappeared gracefully...)
My kids are old enough to be told, "the grownups need some TIME..." and they know to scat. It's okay, they are around all day long. And we tell them constantly how one day they will be the ones on the porch till 2 am... So they smile and humor us.

This weekend was particularly enjoyable because the year has been a hard one for our family, and a great sadness has hung over all of us for many months. As soon as the door flung open on Friday, though, I could sense it: the worst had passed. It is not all over, but that intensity is gone and laughter is back, and welcomed.

In the aftermath of shared pain there is a new capacity for communication on levels not explored before. I think soon we may be able to speak in shorthand, ha ha! It is a pretty amazing thing to understand and be understood. There were things I longed to hear for ages that I heard this weekend, and it feels unreal. I wish we could all better grasp what a miracle is when it occurs. It's shocking how easily we accept the impossible as true, and how quickly we forget to be utterly humbled by gratitude.

And yet this is probably a mercy, for aren't we surrounded by amazing grace? Doesn't mercy follow us all the days of our lives, even and in spite of debilitating pain and suffering? Isn't there more heart-stopping beauty and goodness before our eyes every day than ugliness and evil? How would we live and carry on if we felt the weight of this glory at all times? I wonder if God shields us from His blinding light because we would be undone by it.

But there are moments when we catch a glimpse of what "normal" really is in God's economy: the redemption of the "abnormal," not the absence of it. Without the experience of suffering (in small cuts as well as flaying wounds) we would be unable to converse in heaven's language. We are learning how to speak by lisps and stutters, how to walk by stumbling, and how to appreciate peace fully for having struggled with God -- and having prevailed. (see Gen. 32)

Jacob saw God face to face. The body cannot remain untouched by such an experience. We wear it in the flesh: a limp, a stoop, a furrow. But these are our battle wounds, precious in the sight of God and holy to those who believe. Jesus kept His battle scars, even taking them into Heaven. They are nothing to be ashamed of, and those of us who wear them speak the same language and share the same hope in the same promises:

"Once you were not a people,
but now you are God's people;
once you had not received mercy,
but now you have received mercy."
I Peter 2:10

Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23:6

So very, very thankful for:

*relationships that bind and cut and bruise and tangle ...
and heal and teach and nourish and protect and endure

*people who are willing and available and loving and determined and wise...

*prayer that relieves and focuses our spirits and minds... the gift of faith, the comfort it brings, and the hope of fulfilled promises

*the way the Holy Spirit teaches us Himself, so gently and insistently...

*relief... oh, yes. relief.

*the sovereignty of Almighty God that sustains us...

*days of prosperity...

*laughter, bright eyes, and easy smiles...

*happy children...

*good food...

*churches...

*plans to hold lightly...

*the right words at the right time, and someone to say them...

*a change in the light, a change in the air, and bends in the road...

images: beauty found in both common and cultivated corners of my world...

Obama Administration: Pegged

2010-08-26T07:52:00.000-04:00

I really despise politics,
and you will RARELY see a political note mentioned here.
But I couldn't refuse, this was so great:

"You always get things the wrong way round.
It doesn't matter a tuppenny ha'penny damn what idea!
I could think up half a dozen any time I like.
There are only two things that ever stir people politically.
One is to put something in their pockets.
The other is the sort of idea that sounds as though it would make everything come right and which is easy to grasp,
noble but woolly -
and which gives you a nice inner glow.
Man likes to feel a noble animal as well as being a well paid one.
You don't want too practical an idea, you know -
just something humane and that isn't directed toward anyone you'll have to meet personally."

That quote is from The Rose and the Yew Tree, which I've mentioned several times this week.
It is a very haunting book by the way --
and NOT a mystery.
Highly recommend it.

Walk With Him Wednesdays, Prayerful Parenting 2

2010-08-24T12:40:00.007-04:00

I'm following Ann Voskamp again, today, as she explores "prayerful parenting."

I read this yesterday. I've read it before... in fact, it's circled in my Bible. But I had forgotten what a beautiful blessing it is, what a perfect prayer to pray, word-for-word, to this very day, by any believing parent for any beloved child or children.

These are the words of Jacob: the supplanter, the deceiver, the rebel, the man who struggled with God and prevailed. He is one of the greatest enigmas of the Bible, one of a handful whose very life makes us wonder what God ever saw in him -- and then makes us hum "Amazing Grace" with a smile on our lips. What does He see in any of us?

And yet Jacob never hesitated to beg for God's blessing. He never waited until he felt worthy.

And

he

was

blessed.

"I won't let you go until you bless me."

And

he

blessed.

Jacob's blessings were in themselves acts of faith. In Hebrews we read, "By faith Jacob, when dying, blessed each of the sons of Joseph, bowing in worship over the head of his staff..." (Hebrews 11:21)

As Jacob finally approached his deathbed, he felt history repeating itself, but he submitted in faith:

"

"And Joseph took them both, Ephraim in his right hand toward Israel's [Jacob's] left hand, and Manasseh in his left hand toward Israel's right hand, and brought them near him.

And Israel stretched out his right hand and laid it on the head of Ephraim, who was the younger, and his left hand on the head of Manasseh, crossing his hands (for Manasseh was the firstborn)..." (Gen. 48:13-14)

"When Joseph saw that his father laid his right hand on the head of Ephraim, it displeased him, and he took his father's hand to move it from Ephraim's head to Manasseh's head. And Joseph said to his father, 'Not this way, my father; since this one is the firstborn, put your right hand on his head.'

But his father refused and said, 'I know, my son, I know. [and oh, don't you think he did know... probably more than Joseph could comprehend...]

"He also shall become a people, and he also shall be great. Nevertheless, his younger brother shall be greater than he, and his offspring shall become a multitude of nations.'

So he blessed them that day: (Gen. 48:17-20)

The God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked,
the God who has been my shepherd all my life long to this day,
the angel who has redeemed me from all evil,

bless the boys;

and in them let my name be carried on,
and the name of my fathers Abraham and Isaac;
and let them grow into a multitude in the midst of the earth.”

Amen.

"Quit Ye Like Men"

2010-08-24T00:07:00.000-04:00

"Milly Burt had come to see me in the afternoon... She was really, I thought, very pretty and also very nice. You couldn't dislike Milly Burt even if you wanted to, and I for one, didn't want to...

'Oh, Captain Norreys... I blame myself dreadfully.'

'Here we go,' I thought.

'I should stop thinking about it,' I advised.

'But how can I?' Her large pathetic brown eyes opened wide.

'By the excercise of self-control and will power,' I said.

Milly looked highly skeptical and slightly disapproving.

'I don't feel I ought to take it lightly. Not when it's been all my fault.'

'My dear girl, your brooding over it won't help...'

'No-o-o-o, of course not... But I shall never forgive myself...'

We argued on familiar lines... I liked Milly Burt, but I found her quite infuriating.

'For God's sake,' I exclaimed, 'don't make such a song and dance about it! For Gabriel's sake if nobody else's.'

'But it's for HIS sake that I mind.'

She looked bewildered and obstinate.
'...I want to make up for what I've done.'

'Probably you can't...'

Milly Burt looked scared.

I didn't think she could, either. Teresa, if she had happened to care for Gabriel, could have done it quite well.

Teresa's method with life is, I think, ceaseless attack.

Milly Burt's was, undoubtedly, ceaseless picturesque defeat."

I read this little "romance/suspense" book by Agatha Christie last week, which was published under a pseudonym. It was wonderful! She's so witty and observant. This little interaction between 2 characters made me pause and think. It's entirely a work of imaginative fiction, and yet Dame Christie was nothing if not an astute observer of human nature. She nails people again and again. One of her best mystery detectives, Miss Marple, lives in a small English village and always says that no matter who she meets in the big wide world, they always remind her of some character or other in her own little sleepy village. This gives her special insight into motives and capabilities and tendencies, and this is why we all love her so. She always gets her man. :)

I think Dame Agatha wasn't far from the mark. Human nature plays itself out in countless ways, but down underneath I think there is more or less certain patterns we find repeated over and over. The devil doesn't need new tricks when the old ones still work perfectly fine!

Here's one such trick: strangling self-pity appears to us as piety. The arrogance of sewing our own "fig leaves" comes to us in the guise of humility as we do our penance instead of running to God immediately with our sin, as we are told.

Here we see little Milly Burt, who exposes the silliness of this particular strain of human nature so well. I see myself in Milly. What a silly girl I am, trying to somehow make up for my sin, thinking that somehow I'm doing God a favor. In reality, all I'm doing is making it worse. Wasting energy and time. Refusing to listen. It's all with the best of intentions, but I imagine an exasperated Heavenly Father in the place of Captain Norreys, thinking, "here we go..." and responding to my hand-wringing with a firm, "Stop thinking about it." He is kind. He likes me. But yes, "the Kingdom of God comes with violence, and the violent bear it away..." "Ceaseless attack" is what is required, not my own brand of "picturesque defeat." There is nothing admirable about a soldier who lays down his weapons while his King marches ahead of him.

Like Milly, I live in a fuzzy state of "bewildered obstinance." I'm bewildered by grace, and obstinant in my determination to pay. But nothing could be clearer:

"There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus." Rom. 8:1

So then --

"Be watchful, stand firm in the faith, act like men, be strong.
Let all that you do be done in love."
I Cor. 16:13

Multitude Monday

2010-08-23T00:11:00.007-04:00

feeling thankful for...

*quiet school hours, time to re-learn discipline and routine...

*days with nowhere to go, and no reason to dress up...

*time for acts of completion, feelings of satisfaction...

*time to rest and not hurry...

*full schedules that wash in gradually...

*youth, exuberance, and strength for the tasks...

*calm before storms...

*grace to wait for the coming storms in peace...

*love that greases all the grinding wheels...

Our school year starts quietly, and I am thankful. Whole days before us bring rest to restless souls. Teach us how to appreciate home and quiet and solitude and family. These days prepare us for the onslaught of "full schedule" days, when this one goes to swim and that one goes to piano and the other to art... one day. And the next? It's all different...

I treasure quiet days and find myself fighting the inevitable busy-ness that comes with homeschooling three growing kids who have three very different interests and personalities. Finding what is not just "good" but "best" is a study for me, and it continues throughout the year. I look for gaps in the hours to find time for body, soul, spirit, and mind... time for fun (yes it has come to that: I even have to allow time for spontaneity!)... time for friends and work and church life.

Last year I learned that no matter how often I find myself in the van with children, life is more graceful when I dance with it instead of fight it. As my friend, Lori, so often says, "It is what it is."

But I'm not going to borrow trouble. There are a few quiet days left, and I plan to enjoy them. I love even the idea of that quiet cup of coffee in the mornings, with the day stretching out before me.

One day I'm sure I will look back and wish for a few more crazy days full of children and teenagers and wet towels and sketchbooks strewn. It's hard to see the forest for the trees -- and my, how those trees do grow! -- but I'm trying.

The Whole Nine Yards

2010-08-21T19:35:00.011-04:00

Doesn't that just make you want to sink your body into a soft chair and your hands into a soft skein of something beautiful?

Today we fed our creative souls. Claire has a crafting buddy, and her mom found this adorable shop on Main Street in a neighboring town. They actually attended a beginning knitting class for kids, but they ended up being "assistants" since they weren't true beginners, as it turned out. The kindly shop owner took some interest in them and invited them back, free of charge, to their next classes offered -- so we were up early last Saturday and then again today to feed the creative monster that lives inside of us. :)

I am still learning to purl, but Claire is quickly surpassing my skill and knowledge level, when it comes to knitting. Let me just say I could park myself in this shop for quite awhile, given the chance. The opportunities are endless -- knitting, crocheting, even weaving classes are taught here. Samples hang in every corner and if you look long enough you become convinced that you could so do that, and you really NEED to do it. :) It also makes you long for textile-weather... the kind that invites a ball of wool into your lap.

Claire's little crafting friend, Priscilla, made a very astute comment after class let out and everyone flocked to buy yarn: "This is a good idea. Have a class, and people BUY THINGS." Just wandering around that shop made me covet. Like I said, I'm still trying to grasp knit-purl, but I was so ready to sign up for that beginner's class where they are going to MAKE A SWEATER. A gorgeous, SOFT, Anne-of-Green-Gables cardigan sweater. Sigh...

I made a compromise with myself. When I learn to knit-purl consistently, I will sign up for some private lessons, which they also offer, and I will make my sweater with a little help from my new favorite yarn shop on Main Street, USA.

Until then I will dream of clouds of yarn in all the colors of the rainbow and how heavenly they feel in my hands!

where i belong

2010-08-20T18:41:00.002-04:00

"Tell me, Isabella," I said.
"What do you actually understand by marriage
- what does marriage mean to you -
apart from its pure legal significance?"

She was very thoughtful about that.

"I think it would mean becoming a part of someone's life...
fitting in...
taking your place...
and its being your rightful place -
where you belong."

Agatha Christie, The Rose and the Yew Tree

seeing the forest and the trees

2010-08-19T22:58:00.007-04:00

There are times when I feel panic attacks coming on, looking too far ahead at upcoming needs:

tuition fees for extracurriculars

clothing needs

Christmas

a broken headlight, brakework needed

more braces for another child in the next year or so

another car in the next year or two

2 cars riding on over 100,000 miles

college tuition

etc...

etc...

In moments like these, it helps to laugh about it with friends. I have one particular friend who always does me good like a medicine, and we enjoyed a rip-roaring good laugh this week via email over things that on a normal day put us in "moods." Perspective is so helpful!

At the end of my rather lengthy response I said something to this effect:
"One day I hope that John and I will be old together, and I look forward to a moment when we will sit across a table from each other and see the wrinkles and the gray hair and the rheumy eyes --

and we'll smile a knowing smile, and our eyes will then twinkle, and we'll sigh and say with heavy satisfaction, 'We did it.' "

We might be poor, we might be sick and frail, but the future won't hang so heavy upon us. Our turn will be fading, and we will be happy to let that burden slip off our weary backs. I don't look forward to old age and its attending difficulties. I don't look forward to slowing down, really. But I do look forward to this moment. Heaven looks better with every birthday I celebrate! :)

The other day I found myself saying to the Lord in a flustered half-prayer in a hurried day full of short-comings, "If only I could know how this would all end, maybe I could relax and enjoy things more..." I remember only too well all the many times that I've worried over things that never came to pass. I wish I had those wasted hours back. I don't want to find myself at the end of my life smacking my forehead with a "I coulda had a V8" moment. I have a quote from Colette tucked in a notebook somewhere: "I've had a wonderful life. If only I'd realized it sooner.

And then it occurred to me that the reality is, of course, that we DO know how this all ends. It will end with me righteous, clothed in white garments, bright and clean, living in the presence of a holy God who doesn't think twice about any of my failures. "It's finished." He said that, and I need to work on believing it.

I'm reading a biography of Charles Haddon Spurgeon, and if you've never read anything by him or about him, I'll tell you this about that man: he lived the truth, and he was an attractive person. He knew what he had to be cheerful about. That's not to say that it came cheaply or easily. He suffered a lot of physical pain, and with that came bouts of depression. Somehow he is still remembered for his wit and personable nature. His secret seems to be that he was absorbed with Christ, not himself:

"What I have done, I shall do still: namely, to love you with all my heart, and love my Lord as His grace enables me. I mean to go on preaching Jesus, and His gospel, and you may be sure I shall not preach anything else, for with me it is Christ or nothing. I am sold up, and my stock-in-trade is gone if Jesus Christ is gone. He is the sum of my ministry, my All-in-all."

Spurgeon's vocation was a calling to the ministry, and mine is a calling to the home. But these words could remain the same, no matter what a Christian's vocation. I think a good drink of Jesus might be the antidote to much of my self-pity or irritability.

I have a picture in our family journal of Jack, age 8, running away from me towards the sunset on the beach. I wrote underneath it these words:

"It is finished. So go run like a kid at the beach, right into the sunset..."

"God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly. For he is victorious over sin, death, and the world. As long as we are here we have to sin. This life in not the dwelling place of righteousness but, as Peter says, we look for a new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells..." Martin Luther

It's important to attend to details and duties. It's also important to keep that big picture in sight, arching over all like a rainbow full of promise in the mind's eye. It's like trying to see the forest AND the trees.

I'm praying for help with that.

Spurgeon biography, located here.

walk with me wednesday, prayerful parenting

2010-08-17T21:00:00.005-04:00

Ann is exploring the topic "Prayerful Parenting" on Wednesdays and I'm following her lead today.

Janie Cheaney recently quoted an old Puritan prayer in an article in World Magazine titled, "Pushing Paper in the Kingdom," subititled, "When our work in this world seems fultile, God is using it for unseen purposes."

The prayer reads:
"But O what a death is it to strive and to labor; to be always in a hurry and yet do nothing!" Doesn't that recall to mind the words of the wise but weary Preacher of Ecclesiastes who said,

"What gain has the worker from his toil?
I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with...

Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. (3:9-11)

and

"He who observes the wind will not sow,
and he who regards the clouds will not reap.

As you do not know the way the spirit comes to the bones in the womb of a woman with child, so you do not know the work of God who makes everything.

In the morning sow your seed, and at evening withhold not your hand, for you do not know which will prosper, this or that, or whether both alike will be good."
(11:4-6)

He has made everything beautiful in its time." (3:11)

I have these verses pinned to the wall above my desk. They are written plainly on a white index card and affixed with a tac. Not very attractive! But I didn't put that card there for decorative purposes -- I put it there because it's a tonic for my spirit on those days when I feel like throwing up my hands and saying again, "I don't know what I'm doing... I just don't know!"

My frequent prayer is, "Lord, make the road rise to meet us. I don't know what it is we even need, but You do, so please, please show us our need, and bring the supply along behind it."

In the meantime, while we wait (and isn't there a LOT of waiting to be done by parents?), we remember:

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven...
(Ecc. 3:1)

and we "do the next thing:"

Cast your bread upon the waters,
for you will find it after many days.
(Ecc 11:1)

There is such a shroud of secrecy and mystery surrounding the raising of children. What is it we are trying to "bake," here? I have these random ingredients, a little of this, a little of that added to the bowl, a stir -- and then fingernail biting: is that right? Will I ruin the mix? We're getting closer to baking time, the oven temp is rising... will a fragile souffle fall flat or pouf like a charm? Will it be a sturdy, nourishing loaf of bread, or a light and lemony cupcake? I'm stirring batter in the dark, rummaging through a shadowy pantry, reaching for anything that seems like it might work, fearing that I'm all wrong, it's all wrong.

And then suddenly 15 years go by, and I look backwards to see fenceposts, signs, hurdles crossed, and markers passed long ago. Somehow I've made it this far, and with this bit of experience tucked away inside me now, I expect that "surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life..." I find my prayers more spacious, more expectant, less panicked.

And yet still I do live with a heavier amount of anxiety and fear than I am comfortable with. Hysterical giggle inserted here. That is an understatement, ha ha! The Christian life certainly feels rather schizophrenic at times. Nothing like parenting to make you feel the deep truth of Paul's words in Romans 7:

"For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.

For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing."

Janie Cheaney is a blessing to me with each article she writes, and this one was particularly timely at the beginning of a new school year full of uncertainty and ratcheting challenges ahead. Her words were a boost, a shot in the arm:

"... every job is subject to what we might call the four F's: frustration, failure, futility, and false starts...
but
When the alarm goes off, [there] are things not seen, for which faith is the assurance. I'm not dead yet - God is here, calling me in the buzz of the alarm. My vocation is His hammer, level, and awl.

Because while we work, invisible walls and gateways are rising around us. God is also at work, and for our four F's He substitutes His three R's:
restoration,
renewal,
and
resurrection.

While we push paper or dig ditches, He builds His kingdom with our sweat. In that kingdom, there are no false starts, no futility; what looks like failure may be treasure in Heaven. No one is sidelined, no one takes a sick day, no one retires, and there is no running out the clock.

'Everybody's working for the weekend' in the secular world. In the spiritual world, there's another weekend. For our six days on earth we labor; on the seventh, the unseen gates are seen at last, and we enter into rest."

So here's the rub:
Christian parents are Kingdom-builders, and Rome wasn't built in a day. Jesus was careful to clearly point out:

"The kingdom of God does not come with your careful observation, nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:20-21)

This makes parenting tricky, to say the least. Our job is to wear our identity as a child of God on our face, in our hearts, and over our doorposts, all before our children's watching eyes -- with the full intention of transferring all of this to them over time. (Deut. 6)

We want to capture their hearts for Christ, and yet...

and yet...

"The heart is deceitful above all things,
and desperately sick;
who can understand it?" (Jer. 17:9)

How can we do this seemingly impossible, Herculean task, when we can't even know our own hearts, much less another's?

This is the question I wrestle with most days. This is the reason that I'm more convinced than ever that there is only "one thing that is needed," and it will require an effort at actually listening to hear it. I'm pretty sure that what I'm listening for are not answers to questions like, "What curriculum should I use?" or "Is she ready for a part-time job?" The busy-ness of my days often clouds the brutal reality that I'm blind, deaf, and dumb -- I don't even ask the right questions. What I need is to see what is beautiful, hear what is true, and speak what is worthy. Every morning His mercies are new as He "undoes" me before I start "doing."

So yes, I have a long way to go before this even faintly resembles "habit" in my life. But it's a goal, and as even Kit DeLuca knew many years ago in the days of my youth, "Ya gotta have a goal."

I love Josh Wilson's music, and I love to sing along with one of my favorites, "For All the Saints:"

To those whose steps aren't steady
To those whose hearts are heavy
To those whose faith is all but gone
To those that struggle on, struggle on

Oh, come and lay your burdens down
Come and lift your empty hands
You are not alone, we are not alone
So hold on

To all the saints that keep on praying
And all the children that keep on waiting
And all those that sing the Savior's song

Lift your heads up and keep on living
Hold tight to the hope we are given
For we know that we won't be waiting long
I know we won't be waiting long

Can you hear the music playing?
Can you feel the dream is waking?
We are running towards redemption, yeah
We are never standing still

Through the problems and the pain
Through the striving and the strain
You are not alone, we are not alone
So hold on

To all the saints that keep on praying
And all the children that keep on waiting
And all those that sing the Savior's song

Lift your heads up and keep on living
Hold tight to the hope we are given
For we know that we won't be waiting long
I know we won't be waiting long
So just hold on

'Cause He is coming soon, He is coming soon
He will take His bride, He will make her new
He is coming soon, He is coming soon
To carry us home...

Sometimes we need a little theme music playing in the background!

It's true - we are never standing still, and parenting is one of the best ways to learn that for a fact. In prayer, we are given a respite, a time to come away and remember this until we can act on it. Submitting to all His holy will frees us to "cast our bread upon the waters" in trust that not one of them will be wasted. "This is God's will for you - your sanctification," Paul says, both to us and to our children. This is God's will, this 24 hours and these good works that were prepared beforehand for us to do, according to the Scriptures.

Sometimes we make something that ought to be simple into something complicated. Nancy Wilson writes, "Rest, and be beautiful," and something in my spirit says...

"aaahhhh...."

Janie Cheaney for World Magazine

One

2010-08-16T20:03:00.005-04:00

ONE big gift unwrapped on Sunday:

Hebrews 2

".... He who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source.
That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying,

'I will tell of your name to my brothers;
in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise...'

And again,

'Behold, I and the children God has given me.'"

Why is He not ashamed to own me?
Because we are all inextricably linked with Him, one with Him, with one Source of life and godliness: "In Him we live, move, and have our being."

How can we know this?
His presence among us is our covenant, and here is no ambiguity. Paul uses Scripture to show us the intimacy that this new relationship initiates: Jesus standing in the midst of our limping congregations at the throne of God, singing with us as we lisp our praises. He is our Elder Brother who goes before us, making our worship beautiful, interceding on our behalf.

And so, not only is our identification found with Christ -- but His is found with us. What an amazing grace...

Ephesians 2

"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ.

For he himself is our peace,

who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility
by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances,
that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace,

and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross,
thereby killing the hostility.

And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God,

built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone,
in whom the whole structure,
being joined together,
grows into a holy temple in the Lord.

In him you also are being built together
into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit."

Christ's identification with us, and ours with Him, effectively kills hostility. Instead of dividing walls, we are being built up together, into one temple fit for a holy God. Through the work of the cross, dividing walls and divided peoples are now one -- and there is one Source, one family, one faith, one baptism, and only one thing that is needed.

That gift just keeps unfolding, and it keeps on giving. The Source never dries up, and the ripple effects are eternal...

and I'm very thankful for the privilege of being just ONE voice singing with Christ's.

i'm listening

2010-08-14T22:48:00.006-04:00

A week or so ago our computer contracted a virus that we feared would be fatal. I liken computer science to gnosticism - it involves a secret knowledge. Those who have it are powerful indeed. ;)

The day that John called me to tell me that our "computer guy" was afraid that the virus was a "nasty" one and he was not sure he could fix it, I was headed out the door to a hair appointment for Courtney. It was one of the very few days of summer when I actually bothered to curl my hair, put on makeup, and dress with care. I put my keys in the ignition and NOTHING HAPPENED.

In a few weeks I will be begging for someone to tell me "you can't go anywhere, and your computer is out of commission." But this was the last week before school officially starts for us - the last week of lazy summer - and I was actually ready to roll! I had a to-do list, and my style was getting seriously cramped at this point, not to mention the mental freak-outs that were threatening to give me a panic attack (what if the computer is dead? what if it's the alternator? what if it's BOTH????). So what did I do?

I took a deep breath and looked for things to channel my restless energy into, while I bit my tongue. I've learned a little bit with past experience (not much, but a little!), and past experience has taught me that
1. It is true that God certainly does sometimes allow me to feel the consequences of foolishness, but for the most part, He has been incredibly merciful. I am not one who is prone to "name it and claim it," and neither am I prone to presume upon happy endings, but I have learned that at least I ought to give consideration to how very often God has provided, protected, and generally been quite "lenient" with us, for lack of a better word. We always receive more than we deserve.

and

2. My default mode used to be immediate and complete over-reaction at the first hint of anything beginning to go "wrong." Many's the time that I felt like a little fool when I had spent all my energy being ill and complaining about what had not yet happened - and never did. And so I've learned not to borrow trouble. If something goes wrong, there will be plenty of time for complaining, ha ha!

The funny thing is, it's usually the hours of expectation, waiting for something to go wrong, that makes me feel irritable and ungrateful and fearful and anxious. If I choose to focus on that. But most of the time if something actually does go wrong, I find my response at that time to be one of measured practicality: "Well, what are ya gonna do?"

Still, I'm left with no illusions about myself: at any given moment, I could have another freak-out because there's one more thing I've learned well:

Status-quo is fragile and so are my best intentions. I have no guarantees that my "normal life" will continue for even one more hour. Life in our culture is saturated with a pervasive sense of entitlement, and I confess I've bought into it myself. Every trial, every obstacle, every hindrance great or small feels like a personal grievance, an interruption, a real reason to let go of all perspective and let the imagination run wild. I wonder why, as a Christian, my imagination doesn't run wild all over God's gorgeous, glorious attributes? Why does my soul not flee to green pastures and still waters? Why does it choose the mud puddles and slums?

I'm not sure of the answers to those questions, but I'm beginning to feel that perhaps it's because I'm so immersed in my culture, so acutely aware of the many, many voices, that I am bound to them, chained to earth. LISTENING has become a theme for me of late -- and although I still have not gotten there yet, my goal this school year is to listen better. To become a woman of the Word and of prayer -- to focus for a time on "the one thing" that is needed (Luke 10:38-42) -- this is something that I want, because I'm convinced that that would affect everything else.

(If I could, this is where I would sit to listen every day. :) This is a picture of my favorite seat in my new favorite getaway, somewhere off the coast of Georgia. But I digress...)

One of my favorite little Bible verses, the one I probably pray the most, is simply this:

"Turn my eyes away from worthless things..."
Psalm 119:37

Worthless things are heavy and binding and I want my children to know the joys of the FREEDOM that Christ died to bring us. To that end,

"Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ. For this I toil, struggling with all His energy that He powerfully works within me."
Col. 1:28-29

I don't know that I will ever "arrive" at my desired goal, but that doesn't make me ineffectual in the role I've been given with my children. That is my hope! As Paul said so well, "What if some were unfaithful? Does their faithlessness nullify the faithfulness of God? By no means! Let God be true though every one were a liar..." (Romans 3:3-4)

It's the small things that tell, and it's the small things that undo me. But God is faithful in so many, many small things, despite my fear and unfaithfulness. Do you remember that song by Nicole Nordeman called "Legacy?" It asks the question, "Did I point to You enough to make a mark on things?" The image that comes to my mind is of some surface worn smooth with constant wear... the Blarney stone, smooth where thousands of lips have touched it, a river rock or seashell... maybe even the wall of our staircase, darkened by many childish fingers feeling their way up and down. No, I cannot say to my children, "Here, this is where the standard is... I'm here and you must come up." But this is what I do: I point, again and again, "There it is... there is the mark, lets shoot for it together." And over time, perhaps that touch will leave its mark on all our lives. We touch things to know they are there, to gain balance, to pause and remember. There are moments in life (like when mountains can't be moved or the road bends where least expected...) when you feel far from the mark. It's good to touch it again, even if you can't hold onto it. "There it is." And just like the feel of a seashell or a river rock in the hand, it brings a sense of needed calm. When we listen to the Word, or listen in prayer, we touch the hem of His garment. Again and again... and His power goes out, just like it did for the sick woman all those years ago:

"...she said to herself, 'If I only touch his garment, I will be made well.' Jesus turned, and seeing her he said, 'Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.' " (Matthew 9:21)

I like that woman, because she knew she was not well -- and she went directly to Jesus. She didn't demand anything at all, she just knelt and touched. No wonder Jesus commended her faith.

Tonight my computer is not only working again but it's better than ever, after our "computer guy" dolled it all up for us. Yes, it cost us $60 -- and yes we'll spend another $60 on the new security program -- and yes, we spent another $40 on a new car battery --

but the computer WASN'T dead... the files ARE all safe... and the battery COULD HAVE cost us $100 but the very nice "car guy" pro-rated us $60 for some reason. I'm so thankful for helpful, honest, knowledgeable "gnostics." :) I'm so thankful that God heard my pleas for mercy. I know good and well that God always hears. I know that He is always good, no matter if the answer is yes -- or no. Or wait. But time after time, in a million big and small ways, He does show His mercy - and I'm laid low, knowing I do not deserve it. Greater still, He shows me His mercy when I fail to realize how I do not deserve it.

Tomorrow I will attend worship and I will know this deeply in my soul. I will utter a confession along with our church family and I will hear the words of forgiveness. I will receive a benediction. This is more than I ever asked for, and much more than I could ever earn.

Some people say, "It's the simple things..." but I'm realizing that in reality, nothing is simple. It's all amazing grace. Everything is fraught with intention by a God who designs all things for the good of His children and for His own glory, even dead batteries and infected computers. It is good to stop and remember this, and I'm thankful for the opportunity. There are other voices, needy ones, fearful ones, and sad ones... voices of people I love. But at the beginning and ending of each day, there is ONE voice, and for each one of us that voice is all our comfort.

My word this school year is LISTEN. What is yours?

Offline

2010-08-10T19:01:00.002-04:00

Our computer is currently being "cleaned out." We were infected with the newest virus, but as John said, "maybe it's a blessing in disguise." Our computer puts up with a lot of abuse! The poor thing was probably overdue for a thorough cleaning.

What this corner of the world needs is more trustworthy computer geeks. :) Thankfully, John's "geek" at work also takes personal clients. :)

So for me, it's time to stop talking and start listening... a timely lesson for the start of our school year.

See you soon.

A Slow Dawning

2010-08-09T06:05:00.001-04:00

We too often think of the Cross of Christ as something we have to get through,
yet we get through for the purpose of getting into it.

The Cross represents only one thing for us --
complete, entire, absolute identification with the Lord Jesus Christ --
and there is nothing in which this identification is more real to us
than in prayer.
Oswald Chambers

"He will guide you into all the truth..."
John 16:13

expectations

2010-08-06T11:15:00.005-04:00

Oswald Chambers:
"We are not here to prove God answers prayer;
we are here to be living monuments of God's grace."

"So death is at work in us..."
2 Corinthians 4:12

Josh Wilson, Right In Front of Me:

Maybe this is what it means to question You and still believe
To search and still be satisfied, to know and yet to wonder why
To put my faith in things I doubt, to love what I can’t figure out
Maybe this is what it means

To want a miracle, something impossible
But have the faith to still believe
When You say everything that’s right in front of me
Is all the proof I’ll ever need

Don’t need a miracle, something impossible
That makes You easy to believe
When You say everything that’s right in front of me
Is all the proof I’ll ever need

You’re all the proof I’ll ever need
So would you help me to believe

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Teacher, I brought my son to you...
if you can do anything,
have compassion on us
and help us.

And Jesus said to him, ‘If you can’!
All things are possible for one who believes.
Immediately the father of the child cried out and said,

'I believe; help my unbelief!' "

Mark 9:17,22-24

Martha said to Jesus, 'Lord, if you had been here,
my brother would not have died.
But even now I know that whatever you ask from God,
God will give you.'

Jesus said to her, 'Your brother will rise again.'

Martha said to him, 'I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.'

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life.
Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live,
and

everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die."
Luke 11:21-25

"Whoever seeks to preserve his life will lose it,
but whoever loses his life will keep it."
Luke 17:33

"Do you believe this?' ”
Luke 11:26

(image taken by me in the garden of a local church)

Counting Gifts

2010-08-02T19:26:00.007-04:00

* satisfying arrivals

* sacred spaces

* singular beauty

* shared silences

images taken on recent travels to Coastal Georgia

Marriages and Anniversaries

2010-07-24T11:14:00.003-04:00

John and I celebrated 19 years last week, and I'm already looking forward to next year when I will be able to say that I have actually been married for HALF of my life! I will turn 40 in April -- and celebrate my 20th anniversary in July. Lord willing. :)

These are big events to celebrate, and yet life is big right now, and having 2 teenagers presents certain financial hurdles to celebrating in a big way. This summer we are rolling our anniversary into an annual conference on Jekyll Island. John will be busy enough, but we will have evenings together, and I will enjoy a few days of solitude. For a homeschooling mother, this is a golden gift indeed. :)

To kick-off our weekend, we will be attending a very special wedding, and what better way to remember your own special day than to live vicariously for an evening? Weddings are so romantic. I still remember...

And afterwards we will join our favorite people to celebrate this newborn marriage in a romantic environment, where we will all happily take off our shoes, dance, and sip champagne under the disco ball! We will all be beautiful for a few hours together, forget our troubles for awhile, and feel the satisfaction that comes after a happy day. We will come home tired and smiling, and we will know we have made some memories to talk about for years to come. Laughter, love, and memory are surely good gifts from a good Creator to help us through the ordinary hardships of life.

Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of his life that God has given him, for this is his lot.

Everyone also to whom God has given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil—this is the gift of God.

For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart.
Ecc. 5:18-20

Remove vexation from your heart, and put away pain from your body, for youth and the dawn of life are vanity.
Ecc. 11:10

Parting Words

2010-07-24T11:09:00.002-04:00

One of my favorite bloggers is going off the grid, and I applaud her for it. It's a hard thing, to sacrifice something that you have come to enjoy or depend upon, even when you know it's the right time to do so. Still, I will miss her quiet posts.

Her "farewell adress" included some very wise parting words that I thought worth sharing. She will be removing her entire website soon, so the link I will provide here will only work for a little while longer. I hope to take these words into consideration as I write here, from time to time.

Tonia, from Study in Brown:

being a Christ-follower in such a forum is a great responsibility. every word we write is left for others to examine. every careless post, every emotion-laced comment, every flippant word leaves behind a trace of who we are. i have failed to represent the Lord so many times here and at other blogs. for that, i can only ask the Lord's forgiveness, your forgiveness, and pray those words will not be a stumbling block to anyone else.

after five years, this is best advice i can give to you: when you are online, love. listen. assume the best. speak life. pray. learn. leave nothing but traces of grace behind you. arguing over perfect doctrine, shutting people out because they read the wrong books or like the wrong authors, pointing fingers, pointing out sin, endless discussions over politics and religion, mocking brothers and sisters who don't see things the way you do, all of it is such a waste of time and i believe it grieves our Lord. please, leave something behind you that testifies to the life and joy of your salvation!

secondly, be gentle with yourselves. remember that no one can do it all. no one. if you see someone online who seems to have it all together and accomplishes everything perfectly, be assured that you do not have the whole picture. all of us choose where to spend our time at the expense of something else. choose wisely as the Lord leads YOU and let other people flourish where the Lord plants them. the temptations to promote yourself, to seek after traffic, to write nonsense in order to be popular, are great. remember who you are in Christ and why you write. please the Lord and nothing else matters.

and lastly, if ever you find yourself drawn away from time with the Lord for time with these glittery screens, i urge you to turn the computer off immediately and go away with your Savior. these words and images, links and comments, traffic and publishing are all going to disappear. Jesus is all that will remain. seek Him first above all else, dear ones.

my friends, i love you with the love of Christ. thank you for your gifts to me, your kindness, your prayers, your faithful love. May God richly bless and keep you.

in Christ,
tonia

2010-07-16T22:23:00.002-04:00

I read these sad little verses earlier today, "a prayer of one afflicted, when he is faint and pours out his complaint before the Lord," as Psalm 102 is titled:

I am like a desert owl of the wilderness,
like an owl of the waste places;

I lie awake;
I am like a lonely sparrow on the housetop.

Tonight the weather was a bit milder than usual, and I enjoyed sitting on the back porch with John for a little while after dinner. I sat in one corner and from there could see the roofline of my neighbor's house outlined against the evening sky. There, way up on the very highest point, sitting right in the middle of the chimney, was a tiny little bird. He was sitting very still, unafraid. He sat there for a long, long time without making a sound, and with very little movement. He looked very peaceful from a distance and I wondered what he was thinking and do birds think, anyway? I was more restless than he was. I watched him for a little while.

I had forgotten about these verses, but that image started to bubble back up before too long. The little bird then started to make a few chirps, just a quick little double-chit every 30 or 40 seconds. It was quiet and small and simple.

I tried to get my camera, carefully, but just as his voice got a bit bolder, he flew away to a nearby tree, and I was sorry to see him go. I never got the picture, either.

I don't know whether the little bird was sad or tired, well-rested, simply enjoying the view... or nothing at all except sitting on a housetop. But a picture is worth a thousand words, and now I know why the Psalmist chose to express his feelings all those years ago: it was perfect, and powerful.

Human nature doesn't change, and sadness still hangs heavy over this beautiful world. Sometimes God is most glorified when we can just sit quietly in our sadness and look around and be. A small, simple, quiet song is enough and more: it is heartbreakingly beautiful.

Luke 12:6-7
Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God.
Why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered.

Fear not; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Weighed in the Balances

2010-07-15T20:46:00.004-04:00

Daniel 5:27
"you have been weighed in the balances and found wanting..."

Psalm 90
You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream,
like grass that is renewed in the morning:
in the morning it flourishes and is renewed;
in the evening it fades and withers...

So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.

I recently got a big kick out of Beck's rant on her LEAST FAVORITE BOOK EVER, Eat, Pray, Love, by Elizabeth Gilbert. Which is now, of course, a movie. I feel likewise, so I appreciated her brilliance on the subject. I once read a book titled Cold Tangerines that made me want to hurl it against a wall -- a feeling that has never once come over me before or since with any book. I feel your pain, Beck. (and please don't bash me if you love both books. sorry sorry sorry, it's only my opinion... to be backed up as follows:) :)

The similarity that exists between these two books is the burden that descends upon the reader who is told that life ought to be good and we can always choose happiness. The underlying implication: if you are not happy, you are at fault. For an unhappy person, this is almost unbearable news.

I find an interesting (and irritating) trend in magazines, talk shows, and soundbytes from moviestars, foodies, and gurus of all sorts... people who have become "experts" in their politically correct fields of "tolerance," "simplicity," "organic and sustainable" food, (or just good food!), diet, the environment, travel, or even clothing. To listen to these people, EVERYTHING is of utmost importance, and we are all failures if we do not eat organic food from sustainable farming, travel frequently with our children, find peace through exotic means on a daily basis, go green, and always look like a million bucks (for the children's sakes, of course).

Two bizarre things occur to me as I consider this state of affairs:

1. Somehow we have come to find this entertaining or inspiring in some way, being constantly told by "experts" that we are constantly falling short. I can see how there may be a moment of inspiration as we watch this beautiful person cheering us on in the quest of enlightenment (like the one she has arrived at, obviously -- the one that keeps her rich, thin, beautiful, and fulfilled...). But I believe that in the long run these tv shows and articles and books leave us living with guilt and fear and a sense of lack, like a shadow that never quite allows us to soak in all the sunshine. It has become very American, this guilt, fear, and bondage.

and

2. These people that we deify with the belief that they have some sort of secret knowledge to share with us about how to make life GOOD... these people speak of humility, tolerance, simplicity and yet they are millionaires who have personal trainers, get paid to stay thin and beautiful, have personal chefs in the kitchen and nannies in the nursery. They can't stay married, and arrogance pours out of their mouths, like this interview that I read today at the pool in Health Magazine, and I'll share highlights here:

Title: Simple Pleasures
Person being Interviewed: Sandra Oh of "Grey's Anatomy"

The best thing I do for my health is...
breathe and try to be exactly where I am.

Three things that inspire me:
my nieces, my teachers, my fear.

My favorite summer pleasure:
traveling

I like to treat myself every day to:
a salted caramel.

My biggest pet peeve is:
people who don't care.

When I'm not in the mood to excercise, I tell myself:
don't excercise.

My idea of fun:
dancing in my kitchen with my close friends.

The last time I went shopping I bought:
organic food.

If I have a free 10 minutes, you'll find me:
sleeping, trying to meditate, or listening to music.

The part of my body I'm most confident about:
This is obviously a trick question. The whole imperfect thing.

What I love about my life is:
pretty much all of it.

And yet the overall sense I get is that I'm supposed to go, "wow, she is such a simple, humble, happy woman." I'm supposed to ADMIRE her. Instead, I found myself laughing: now, THAT was some good spin! Sandra Oh might actually be a humble, happy woman, that's beside my point, really. My point is that these are the studied words of a woman concerned with her appearance. She has a persona, and it earns her money. We are silly to endow her with more than the cheap value of 5 minutes entertainment at the pool. This article should have no power to make us feel less because we have never tasted her salted caramels or had the money to travel this summer or maybe we don't love our entire life and our whole imperfect body. We are only guilty of foolishness if we truly believe these implied (and learned)definitions of simplicity, generosity, and sacrifice.

Living well entails dying well. What is it that I will wish I had done, when I lie looking at my family from my deathbed? What is it that will help me to die well? I'm still working on the answers to those questions, but I'm pretty sure I won't be thinking of trips never taken or artisanal foods never tasted. The answers probably would not sound great on the back page of Health Magazine, either. ;) That's the difference between reality and a sales pitch.

Hey, I'm all for travel and food, don't get me wrong. And as Christians, the secular can certainly be made sacred by the act of redemption. But as Beck said, "... the sacred isn't away from you, isn't someplace else and hard to get at. You don't need a special room in your house, don't need a trip to India. The sacred is here all the time..." We don't need lifestyle gurus to gauge the "authenticity" of our lives, or how well they are lived. We don't need a measuring rod other than the one given us by our very own Creator.

Life can be hard, and there is no sin nor shame in admitting that. The world is full of sadness, and it would be madness to presume that I will not be untouched by this in my lifetime. Are we now going to make people feel ashamed because they can't sport a "Life is Good" t-shirt in all honesty? I find it amazing that these "Travel People" that Beck refers to should be seeing more hard reality than I do, since they travel more. How is it that Elizabeth Gilbert of Eat, Pray, Love can travel to India and come away feeling MORE PEACEFUL about her lovely life, after seeing the abject poverty of the lowest castes in the streets? How is it that having this knowledge she even CARES anymore if she is happy or not? This is a puzzler.

I may not have salted caramels or cold tangerines in my kitchen... I may not be dancing on the beach at midnight with my husband... I may not even love everything about my life at all times.
But that doesn't mean anything.
Not anything at all.

Weighed in the balances, life must have weight to it. Happiness is light, the wind blows and it is gone like a mist. Vacations are time-bound, and nobody can hold the grains of time in their hand. Artisanal cheeses and organic chocolates make life tastier for a moment, travel brings lightness and good memories, and love is fed by dancing and romance. But weighed in the balances, they will be found wanting in the end. Depth comes from sorrow, suffering, heaviness, sacrifice and endurance. Faith is found not in the temple of an Indian guru but in the daily acts of believing what we cannot see, knowing what we cannot feel, loving what we do not understand. Peace is a Person with no known location. We find Him in our humblest moment of weakness. It is when we die to self, not "find ourself," that we are blessed with benediction. The wisdom of God is certainly foolishness to mankind.

And so we pray, knowing that the end of all things is sure to come:

Psalm 4:6-8
Lift up the light of your face upon us, O Lord!

You have put more joy in my heart
than they have when their grain and wine abound.

In peace I will both lie down and sleep;
for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

Psalm 90:14-17
Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
and for as many years as we have seen evil.

Let your work be shown to your servants,
and your glorious power to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
and establish the work of our hands upon us;
yes, establish the work of our hands!

Amen.

Generous

2010-07-14T00:29:00.004-04:00

We have been out of town on an unlikely, spontaneous adventure. Things are still not quite back to normal, with one child at camp for the week and another just healing from 2 ear infections. Life is slower at the moment, but then so am I... the gift of a "vacation from your vacation" is a rare, but welcome, one. So I am busy savoring the nothingness and waiting for the return of routine and normality that will surely come in its own sweet time.

Claire was on the Gulf for a week at church camp, and when she returned home with tales of clean beaches, I felt the itch to see those Emerald waters again before they became smeared with the ooze of oil. Just when I began to lose hope that this would be possible, we were blessed with the generosity of friends who have condos in Destin. So -- off we went! As Jack said, "It started with just boring old Mommy on the computer, and it ended with us on the beach!" ha! Yes, things came together for us quickly and there we were. It was a magical week.

I have been thinking along the lines of something I heard casually mentioned somewhere, I can't recall where:
We are all here, we all exist, we all depend upon one simple act of supreme generosity.

One simple act of generosity. What a difference that can make.

And what a blessing to know Who to thank, when you look at that infinitely big blue sky and the clear green ocean that runs farther than the eye can see, and deeper than any mortal eye ever will. To recognize supreme generosity when it is received, this is a gift in itself, isn't it?

Most of life calls for a "great endurance," as the author of Hebrews says. But there are moments when respite is given, and these can only be received and never demanded. Happiness and rest descend lightly, they are easily borne away by every breeze that blows our way. But memory is a gift, too, aided by tangible things like scent and sound, things that we can't control: suddenly in the middle of dreary winter, when a song plays on the radio or a spring breeze floats by and we're compelled to close the eyes and remember something good, something generous... surely that is a good gift from a Father who never did change, no matter where we live or what we experienced between moments. The sun that warms my face also bakes the clay, but

"the gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea;
Listen! The mighty Being is awake,
And doth with His eternal motion make
A sound like thunder -- everlastingly." (Wordsworth)

Here is what I want to remember from my visit to the sea this year:

I am loved.

How generous.

Father's Day Revisited

2010-07-14T00:24:00.003-04:00

Father's Day weekend

Little Ava, little hands, little feet...
and Daddy waiting for her inside.
A picture speaks a thousand words
and big gifts come in small packages.

Balance... and the Lack Thereof

2010-06-24T21:10:00.009-04:00

Gracious Spirit, dwell with me!
I myself would gracious be;
And with words that help and heal
Would Thy life in mine reveal;
And with actions bold and meek
Would for Christ my Savior speak.
(hymn: Gracious Spirit, Dwell With Me)

Yesterday I wrote about doubting God's goodness. I wrote about grace and joyful living.

And then today I read this special message from Joni Tada where she tells her friends how she has been diagnosed with breast cancer, and that would give anyone who knows who she is cause to pause. It kinda stops you in your tracks on the way to Wal-mart, if you know what I mean.

I also read an excerpt from a book that is making its rounds recently, titled Radical. I have the free little booklet form of it sitting on my desk. I have to admit, I've avoided it for a few days, because I knew that I'd have to come into it thinking rightly, with my "Grace Glasses" on. Otherwise I might end up like Robert Pattinson, ready to die unforgiven at age 30 (or in my case, 40!) as a "punishment" for having lived too good of a life.

So, today seemed like a good time to re-read Jon Acuff's post from yesterday and remind myself that GOD HAS A GOOD HEART. I can trust in Him and not be afraid.

I am an unbalanced extremist by nature, one given to whims and at the mercy of clever advertising at all times. I am also a list-maker, a task-oriented being who feels discomfort when the ducks are not all-in-a-row. But I try to live within my boundaries. I feel awkward when I don't know what to do. I'm good at feeling guilty about buying that avocado that I didn't really need, much less the new camera. And yet I like to celebrate life with my family. You see my dilemma.

This is when it helps me to observe and read and learn from women who live graciously and beautifully and all within their God-given boundaries. They make no apologies, exude cheerfulness, express gratitude frequently, and generally are ATTRACTIVE -- the fragrance of Christ in a world of death. Women like Joni Tada who would bloom in any environment. Her letter to her friends rang in my ears like the voice of Paul: "I have learned in whatever state I am, therewith to be content." He meant it... and so does she, I'm certain of that.

It was Paul who said,
" 'All things are lawful,' but not all things are helpful. 'All things are lawful,' but not all things build up. Let no one seek his own good, but the good of his neighbor. Eat whatever is sold in the meat market without raising any question on the ground of conscience. For 'the earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof.' If one of the unbelievers invites you to dinner and you are disposed to go, eat whatever is set before you without raising any question on the ground of conscience. But if someone says to you, 'This has been offered in sacrifice,' then do not eat it, ... If I partake with thankfulness, why am I denounced because of that for which I give thanks?"

So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God."
(I Corinthians 10:23-31)

It was Paul's wish to glorify God, and that same desire shines in Joni Tada's words. I think Jon Acuff was right when he implied that so many things that we get mentally tangled up in are actually "red herrings" of a sort, sent by our enemy to distract us from the glory of God and the blessing it is to be at peace with Him.

Jesus said, "Seek FIRST the Kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you."

Humility. Gratitude. A Kingdom mentality. The joy of the Lord that is our strength. These things are the antidote to fear and guilt, because they innoculate us to Self. They provide balance, like a 4 legged stool. The thing is, even my best intentions can be dripping with Self: a desire to not feel guilty; a desire to feel at ease; a desire to have an item "checked off" my to-do list. Personal peace, quietness, harmony. These things can come in packages that look quite sacrificial to outside observers. True humility, gratitude, joy, and a Kingdom mentality do not allow for that. The Beatitudes strike at the heart of all our best acts, revealing them for what they are: lacking. They too need an alien righteousness to change filthy rags into clean white linen. It is a mercy that while "it is God who works in you, both to will and to do of His good pleasure," (Phil. 2:13) we are the ones crowned for our participation.

I fear I've yet to begin seeking the Kingdom first. And so I'm pretty sure that therein lies the source of my extremism, imbalance, and confusion. It seems risky to focus on grace and gratitude when I'm quite aware of the mountain of sin under the surface, clamoring to boil over. My practical, logical, anesthetized mind is strongly convinced by the reasoning and wisdom of the world that sheer effort is the thing required to overcome my foolishness. Fear of the future and the guilt of past failure combine to paralyze me into inaction. And there ya go, all wrapped up with a bow: "An instrument for unrighteousness."

But Martin Luther's letter to his friend rings in my ears, too:

"If you are a preacher of Grace, then preach a true, not a fictitious grace; if grace is true, you must bear a true and not a fictitious sin. God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly. For he is victorious over sin, death, and the world. As long as we are here we have to sin. This life in not the dwelling place of righteousness but, as Peter says, we look for a new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. . . .

Pray boldly - you too are a mighty sinner."

And this is why I love Martin Luther. He brings me hope!

I cut this out today, an old post from the Desiring God blog that I had printed some time ago, which speaks along the same lines:

"So much of our groaning comes from living with a war waging inside of us. We love the law of God in our inner being, and yet have a cursed inclination to whore after the desires of our hearts and our eyes. We keenly feel our wretchedness and long to be set free from the body of this death.

Which is what Jesus Christ our Lord came to do...

Because of the cross, our groaning is full of hope."

Mighty Spirit, dwell with me!
I myself would mighty be;
Mighty so as to prevail,
Where unaided man must fail;
Ever, by a mighty hope,
Pressing on and bearing up.

find more thoughts on cheer and gracious living, at femina.

Glasses for Grace

2010-06-23T10:30:00.005-04:00

Jon Acuff writes a blog that reads like a daily "inside joke" for people who grew up in the Church. It's called "Stuff Christians Like," and it gives me a good laugh on most days. But he reserves Wednesdays for serious stuff, and he calls it, of course, "Serious Wednesdays." He writes "seriously" as well as he writes humorously.

Today he spilled the gospel all over the page for us, and it was a great thing to wake up to this morning. I have had these niggling ideas jostling around in my brain for a couple of weeks, ideas that go along with what Jon wrote today, but I can't for the life of me remember what I read or heard that started me thinking along these tracks. That really irritates me! I have very few original ideas, so I won't take credit for anything I write here, much... lets just say there is an original source to be located, somewhere... else.

Jon Acuff writes,
"When you doubt God's goodness, you doubt the very core of who He is.

Love and compassion and kindness are not His attributes. They are His heart and soul. They are not His hobbies. They are the lifeblood of who He is. They are His fingerprints and His breath. They are His everything.

You see this repeated over and over in the Bible. When asked to reveal Himself to Moses in Exodus 33, do you know what He puts on display? Do you know what He showcases in a single moment to show the core of His presence? He reveals HIS GOODNESS.

In Isaiah 30:18 do you know what we're told is God's reason to rise? The verse says, 'He rises to show you COMPASSION.' His purpose is COMPASSION. We are told that He 'longs to be GRACIOUS.' Not likes, not even loves, He LONGS."

You can read the rest here... It's worth reading. And printing. And keeping. And reading again. Because our "default mode" is always to fall back onto effort and law and lock-jaw determination to get through our days. It's a subtle but deadly temptation, to doubt not God's ability, but His willingness. Not His love-for-the-world, but whether or not He really likes ME very much. Is He tolerant? Or jealously passionate?

This is why I feel that I can't hear the gospel enough, this reminder that although I am needy and broken and sinful, "my God of mercy will come to meet me." Just like the man who begged Jesus to heal His daughter, my belief is mixed with an awful lot of unbelief.

We all know, we've all been told, that God is "the same yesterday, today, and forever." (Heb. 13:8) So why is it that we have a "good day/bad day mentality" when it comes to our expectations of how God will react to us (which has layers of lies to it, not the least of which is that GOD REACTS)... or that we come to the Bible
with two sets of glasses: one for the Old Testament and one for the New. "Flip to the Old Testament... put on your 'God of Wrath and Justice glasses... Flip to the New... put on your 'God of mercy' glasses."

In the Bible, from cover to cover, God again and again tells us who He is: good, gracious, slow to anger, compassionate, gracious, loving. It's like He can't use enough words, because we are so hard of hearing, so slow to understand.

I am hard of hearing. I am slow to understand. I still flinch, I wince, I wait for the slap that never comes... I wait for God to say, "that's it, you've made your bed... now lie in it." I've lived almost 40 years and I've never heard that yet, never felt a slap yet. There are stings and pangs but they heal and redirect. God is a God of redemption if He is anything ever at all. He takes everything evil, everything ugly, everything sinful, everything stupid -- and makes it all beautiful in HIS time. That is what He is doing, this Cosmic Artist, making something beautiful, all the time.

Whatever it is that I read several weeks ago made my eyelids flicker for a minute when I realized that I come to the Scriptures -- and to life -- expecting to find a God of wrath and justice, most of the time. And when I do that, I usually see what I expect to see. I have on warped glasses, through which I see a warped reality. For a moment I paused and thought, and although I haven't tested this thoroughly yet, I did just finish reading through the Bible last year and yes - you know what? I think it just might be true: there just might be more mercy in the Old Testament than wrath or "justice." But mercy doesn't feel as trustworthy, somehow... it feels more like something of which to be suspicious. Wrath and justice I "get." I understand it, I expect it, and when I do see it I recognize it for what it is. But mercy? "It is higher than I, I cannot attain unto it." And so I think I tend to gloss over it - yes, I'm waiting to turn the page and see the other shoe fall, failing to recognize that shoe falling as an act of God's free grace, an act of redemption with mercy sure to follow. Strangely, masochistically, I seem to be more comfortable with wrath... the law and its form of justice is my comfort zone. It's mercy and gospel grace that make me squirm. Surely this is not natural for one born of the Spirit! I am reminded of Paul's words to the Galatians: "O foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?" Who, indeed? "Who hindered you...? This persuasion is not from him who calls you." (Gal. 3:1, 5:7-8)

The Psalmist said, "SURELY goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life."

Surely. Now, that's confidence! King David, he knew a lot of hardship. But he also knew his God well enough to attribute to Him only those things that were befitting. David had the right pair of glasses... and he wore them well.

Those are the glasses I'd like to wear today, the ones that help me to see my God of mercy, rising to meet me around every bend in the road. Oh, to expect too see His smiling face instead of the back of His hand. To be a woman after God's own heart, that. very. good. heart. To see like David, the friend of God.

Psalm 100:4-5
Enter his gates with thanksgiving,
and his courts with praise!
Give thanks to him and speak well of His Name.

For the Lord is good...

This is a back-door way to come into the topic of joy and joyful living, which is another thing I've been spending a lot of time learning about recently. Andree Seu wrote a post today on this topic that goes along nicely with this train of thought. She ends by saying:

"God blesses [a] happy tune. This should not surprise us because, as John Piper says, 'God is most glorified when we are satisfied in Him.'

...King David is aware of the connection betwen joy and witnessing. How better to persuade the world of truth than by our manifest delight in God's salvation?

God's love is a love that is always trying to enfold people. And it is when we are happy in Him that people are attracted to the Truth."

I think sometimes we Christians are afraid to be "happy in Him." We're a bit suspicious of "happy Christians." We're not sure that we're supposed to do that or be like that...

Here is where I would normally put in a parenthesis and explain how "happy" is not necessarily tied to an emotion and it's not faked. There is a season for everything and a time for every purpose under heaven. I might point out the difference between "joy" and "happiness..." a "state of blessedness" being different than "your best life now."

But then that might be giving too much space for my natural tendencies to take root again.

So I'm thinking I need to buy a new set of glasses and wear them constantly for awhile. See what I see. I'll let you know. And if anyone wants to get their own pair, feel free to tell me what your view looks like, as well.

photo: freefoto.com

At Wit's End There is... Breakfast

2010-06-21T00:17:00.001-04:00

Some went down to the sea in ships,
doing business on the great waters;
they saw the deeds of the Lord,
his wondrous works in the deep.
For He commanded and raised the stormy wind,
which lifted up the waves of the sea.
They mounted up to heaven; they went down to the depths;
their courage melted away in their evil plight;
they reeled and staggered like drunken men
and were at their wits' end.

Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble,
and He delivered them from their distress.
He made the storm be still,
and the waves of the sea were hushed.
Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,
and
he brought them to their desired haven.

Let them thank the Lord...

Psalm 107:23-31

"He asks us to trust him when it feels like we’ve been in a long night
and caught nothing
and will we hear His voice,
trust him,
do what He says when He asks the unconventional of us:
“Throw your net on the right side of the boat”….

And there’s this: …
the wild love waiting for us at the end of dark, empty nights of the soul —
the kind of love that has breakfast waiting for us on the beach,
the fish and bread all ready for us..."

Ann Voskamp

Today I am thankful for:
quiet waters,
slow, gentle deliverance,
havens,
rest...

wild love,
the dark, empty nights of the soul (yes, even those...),
and breakfast at dawn (when mercies are new!): "a table before me in the presence of my enemies" (Ps. 23:5),
a cup that can only be received and never demanded, running over...

Summer Reading List

2010-06-17T16:34:00.003-04:00

I have this nice little variety of things to read this summer. I try to balance the fluffy with the weighty, but I will admit that the weighty books sit on the stack longer.
I checked out 2 new P.D. James mystery novels the other day, thinking: "pool reading." The problem is, once you start a good mystery you find yourself looking for moments to crack the spine all day long! By the time I get to the pool tomorrow the first one will be half finished.

My original plan was to read another book, Hold Onto Your Kids, when I was at home. And I have read several chapters, and YES, it is very good. But I still can't wait to see whodunit...

In its own way, Hold Onto Your Kids is also a page-turner. I am not a person who loves "how-to" books, and parenting books in general make me shudder. If I've learned ANYTHING in my 15 plus years of parenting, it's to never trust anyone who has a fool-proof formula to offer. This is why I find books like Hold Onto Your Kids, and Age of Opportunity so refreshing and hopeful - they don't dose out formulas. They discuss relationships, and they show you what a natural parental relationship looks like in a healthy environment. Both authors have a knack for illuminating the real problem -- so very separate from the obvious symptoms. And guess what? There's no quick fix and no formula and no medicine for it.

I also have a biography of Robert E. Lee on the shelf. Courtney read it and came away impressed with him, and proud to be part of that legacy. It's written by Roy Blount, Jr., as only a good ol' Southern Boy could - beautifully, compassionately, interestingly, wittily, respectfully, briefly. I can hear Mr. Blount's voice in my mind as I read, and that is always a bonus... it brings words to life.

I have one more book on my "shelf" at amazon, waiting to be purchased: Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl. I can't wait to get my hands on that one. Nathan Wilson is fun to read.

So far that's it. I have others on the shelf, but I'm not highly committed. They are more on the "well, I SHOULD read these..." list. One day.
Good books are NOT a dime a dozen.

In the meantime, I'm after my husband to begin a book. The basic plotline is done, babe! Get to work already... you have 3 children who need to go to college, clock's tickin'! :)

I'll let everyone know when he's finished... ;)

Wednesdays with Ann

2010-06-16T00:02:00.002-04:00

My sister and I had a nice long phone conversation today. We are both married, but John and I will celebrate 19 years next month while Jan and Brian will celebrate - 9? 10?, I forget! - in October. From my observation and experience, those years from 8-10 are deal-breakers... and I'm beginning to think that the years from 25-30 are, too. There's something about those years that must be universally challenging and stressful.

John and I are well past the 8-10 year mark, for sure. When Jan hung up today, she said, "It's good to talk to you about things because you're able to make me feel NORMAL... like it's not such a big deal, after all." Marriage is a big deal, and relationships are hard, but it's hard for everyone... and that is the thing that seems to escape so many of us. There is some comfort, after all, in acknowledging the truth of the Preacher's words: "There is nothing new under the sun."

There is also safety in those words. We are always safer when we're willing to believe the truth. The truth about intimacy is that it will always involve conflict - and that is true for any person in any relationship. You can fantasize about another spouse and how much easier life would be, or you can compare your own and imagine that he fares poorly, but fantasies and imaginations are a far cry from reality. As the hilariously funny Sinbad said in his comedy skit, describing his own marriage, divorce, and remarriage to the same woman: "What I learned was, there's a lotta crazy people out there... but I understand YO' crazy!" There is deep wisdom there, Sinbad, my man.

There is a serious side to this, however, and I think it applies to a variety of relationships and not just to marriage. I think it's part of Satan's quite functional working scheme to convince us all that we are alone - so unique in our suffering and sin and unhappiness that nobody could possibly understand how we feel, or what we go through. Nobody out there could give us hope or counsel or even encouragement, because our situation is so complex, our spouse so different than hers, our weaknesses so much uglier. "Everyone else is happy but me... if I could just have something DIFFERENT, or BE different, I would be happy, too." I know people personally who have confessed that yes, they literally think this way, often feel this loneliness.

These are smart women! Lovely women. But immediately we believe this lie, we are thrown into shame, defensive posturing, and an isolation of our own making. It changes our beauty, and it can work our own destruction. It makes us vulnerable. I don't think it takes much for Satan to turn us so far into ourselves that we don't need any help destroying God's image with our own hands - we are his tools: our minds, and our mouths. And the destruction never stops with us, it oozes into our relationships in a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts.

So as I've watched and listened and sometimes felt the pull myself, I've learned just a few things. I'm no expert and no marital counselor, but I've sought for treasures in the ruins. I've also seen beauty rise from ashes. Here are a few of my thoughts based upon those experiences:

Primarily, this seems to be a war whose first battlefields are in the mind. Taking thoughts captive is a two-lane road: First we have to put down the defenses... LISTEN... silence the comparisons.
Next we have to positively act by praying... thinking positively, energetically, and intentionally about this person and all the "baggage" he represents. Replacing thought for thought. Talking to yourself instead of listening to yourself. Nobody ever said it was a quick fix or an instantaneous cure. It's a long obedience in the same direction... as Tonia said recently, it's "a series of increasingly informed choices..." (that was a GORGEOUS post, by the way...)

Marriage is a special sort of intimate relationship, but there are many relationships in which we live as Christians within community. They are various and complicated and life-giving and life-taking. They are each unique in their functions, and yet they also thrive with these same two "breathing techniques:" we breathe out what must be let go, and breathe in the Spirit by which we walk. LISTENING, truly listening to another's heart, is hard work and it naturally goes against our grain - we naturally desire to be understood much more than we want to understand. We leap to conclusions, do we not? We operate based upon assumptions before we even know we have assumed wrongly. I've done this, I do it constantly. To some degree, we are wired this way - to take in the facts, and then make sense of them. Unless we LISTEN, we will never know if we have assumed wrongly.

Jan and I talked about how important it is to think the best of our husbands (and our friends). When we leap to conclusions and make sweeping assumptions, how often do we leap to kind ones? Generous ones? Loving ones, that cover a multitude of potential sins? For my part, the answer is: rarely.

Jan and I are becoming more aware of our tendencies and how they arise from our great need for community and love and relationships... we are also becoming aware of the great lie we swallow by believing in the "spotlight effect," the illusion that we are the ones on stage, the talk of the after-dinner conversation. We swallow a lie when we sin against another by denying the reality of their pain and suffering because it appears to be less than our own, and less worthy of attention. We swallow a lie when we build walls around our hearts - and some of us are very good at looking or sounding vulnerable even while turning to stone.

Perhaps the biggest lie of all is the tarbaby in the road, the sticky one that sucks all our energy and resources, whenever we go looking for validation anywhere but in our Father's heart and our husband's arms.

God blesses us with kindred spirits, but they ought to be few, I think. A few close, discreet and discerning souls who know your heart and history, a few women who respect and submit to their husbands, a few friends whose voices you can HEAR from a humble posture... these are our saving graces. There are times for us to give voice to our concerns and fears -- and if we have chosen counselors wisely, they will be firm and honest and gracious and these true friends take our hands firmly and say, "Wait. HERE is the path. Come back to it and walk in it again." AND WE FEEL BETTER. These friends can be oxygent to spiritual lungs, life-givers who help us BREATHE again.

There is a false hope in false security that says, "if I just talk about this some more, to anyone and everyone, then I'm sure I will feel better." This tarbaby seems to offer vindication and justification and a pat on the back. But instead we find that we can't gracefully extricate ourselves! We reach out and grab, and we're stuck... and WE DON'T FEEL BETTER.

A wife who is wise will know when to speak and to whom. She will also know when to be quiet and be counted wise.

Proverbs 17:27-28
Whoever restrains [her] words has knowledge,
and [she] who has a cool spirit is a [woman] of understanding.
Even a fool who keeps silent is considered wise;
when [she] closes [her] lips, [she] is deemed intelligent.

I think this brings honor to our husbands, our children, and our friendships. It builds homes, communities, and churches with grace.

Proverbs 14:10 says, "The heart knows its own bitterness,
and no stranger shares its joy."

I take that to mean that each one of us FEELS the weight of our own sin deeply, in a way that no one else can fully grasp. We live with it before the face of God, and He uses our relationships, our marriages, to highlight it - keeping us right there with Him, always being soiled and always being changed. Rarely does a spouse need to be told what their problems are, or how many times they have failed (again!). When I stop to consider, I can't think of a single time that I've had a friend say to me, "and after I explained it to him, he never did that again!" :) That's not to say that there isn't a place for "discussion" and heaven has been witness to my own grace-less-ness more times than I care to acknowledge. But I do know this: justification is always on the tip of my tongue. It's graciousness that causes my speech to falter.

I long to hear the gospel - I could bathe in grace, if there were a tub of it somewhere! If only there was a chain to pull like the one at the pool, where you can stand in 95 degree blistering heat and feel the cold, wet grace pour out, soothing that burning skin. And this is what everyone needs, even big strong husbands. Even kind, gentle husbands.

We look in our "medicine chest" for ways to fix a marriage, a heart, a child, a friendship, a church. We look for something dark and bitter and strong, something potent, and we want to double the dose... but perhaps what we need instead is something that seems innocuous.

Grace seems impotent and wasteful, but it costs us something dear from the stores of our pride. So we dose it by drops, expecting nothing to happen. We hold on tightly to our expectations, just in case... We are maybe even a little bit suspicious of grace. It seems counterproductive...

John Donne had the heart of a poet and nobody could have said it better:

"Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me."

Every wife wants to be ravished by her husband, every husband wants to ravish. Romance novels and chick-flicks scintillate the senses, but the soul that is bound by grace is most free to love and be loved in return.

It's grace that is truly scandalous.

Remembering

2010-06-14T16:05:00.006-04:00

I forget so easily...

*that 12 years ago we thought we would never be able to afford to live in a neighborhood remotely near a pool...

*that 3 years ago I was praying constantly for God to open my sister's womb...

*that 9 years ago we thought our life had come to a screeching halt, that we were in exile, waiting to "get back home..."

*that 8 years ago I had no church family, and no hopes of finding one...

*that there was a time when we were pregnant, renting, looking for a job, and down to one car...

*that our one car died when we had no money left...

*that a year and a half ago we didn't know where the next month's paycheck was going to come from

*that somehow we have made it all this way, and here we are, still making it...

It's good to remember how:

*twice now, over the course of the past 16 years, two people have unexpectedly left their jobs, leaving a space for John to move in without missing a beat...

*our parents have seen us through newlywed poverty with bags of groceries, free babysitting, and a generous first-Father's-Day check so that we would have a car to drive...

*Jan's empty house is now bursting to full with not one but TWO beautiful girls...

*a church family opened its arms to me at first sight, drawing us in with love, and keeping us in it for the past 7 years...

*our transition from self-employment to government employment happened in no less that ONE DAY, and we never missed a paycheck...

*a gruff, old-school District Attorney in my hometown once offered a fresh-faced, just-out-of-lawschool kid his first job, and made him a confident, successful prosecutor for life...

*somehow we have managed, by God's grace, to provide for all the needs thus far for all 3 kids that God gave us -- despite the hand-wringing, list-making, scheming and whining that went on in my mind...

*we have lived so many good memories in all the precious summers at our neighborhood pool over the last 9 years...

*we keep a family table that has never missed a day's meals...

*each day takes care of itself, because His mercies are new every single morning.

It's so easy to forget, much easier than remembering. A favorite excuse of childhood is "I forgot!" and the correction flies quickly from their lips in answer to my raised eyebrow: "I know, I know," they say. "The Israelites forgot, too..." And I chuckle - the point is finally taken. Yes, we are responsible for our forgetting... and our remembering. Whenever I point the finger at my children, I find 4 pointing back at myself.

I've been telling myself today, in the midst of a "cinching of the belt" that is going on at my house: "it is okay to lack... it is okay to let go of this pretense of control. There is a time to fast, and a time to feast. Each day will take care of itself... each has enough trouble of its own." Take a deep breath, then, Jen! Look at that sunset... feel that pool water, look at those clouds. Kiss those cool, wet cheeks.

Remember.

"...let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called...

And be thankful."

Colossians 3:15

Becoming

2010-06-12T14:50:00.005-04:00

Yesterday afternoon I spent an hour or two with an old friend who has children just the right age for my own children to enjoy. We have spent summers together since Jack was a newborn, so it's a "safe place" to share stories and bare hearts. She is a hearty encourager, and we laugh a lot -- it offers perspective to the wonky world of teenagers. :)

My friend and I are mothers, and so we share many things in common with that role. We are also daughters, and sisters, and we both live in the context of church communities (different church communities). We have relationships that may not look as similar as the motherhood connection, but when shared, they still shed light on many of the little complications that arise in each of our separate lives.

Yesterday we spent some time talking about family and what we have learned in our 40ish years of being mothers, daughters, sisters, AND friends... and how we expect that gained knowledge (small as it may be) to affect our future relationships. We acknowledged how future realities will probably look very little like our expectations, however, and one day we may be laughing at our 40 year old selves and asking our poor aging mothers to forgive our foolishness. :)

The end summary of our discussion was this: we are learning so much about how necessary grace is, and how necessary it is to BE gracious. What this means in "real life" is a massive letting go. Relationships don't always look like you want them to or plan for them to or expect them to. It takes a lot of redefining of things in order to be content, satisfied, and at peace with your life.

I think.

When I got home I sat down to eat a little something, and while I ate, I opened up one of my VERY FAVORITE Southern cookbooks which was written by Pat Conroy. If you aren't familiar with him, he is the quintessential modern day Southern Lit novelist, complete with suicidal tendencies and dysfunctional family relationships trailing behind him for miles. In his aging years, however, he has done more than his fair share of "letting go," and moving on and finding that elusive "peace." I doubt he'll ever be what one might call a peaceful man, but at least he doesn't seem to be in danger of killing himself every time he writes a book anymore. Sheesh, when I look at all his novels lining our bookshelves, that knowledge makes me want to gild them with pure gold or something.

Anyway, I love this cookbook because it's chapters of STORIES; stories involving FOOD, followed by a few recipes that make your mouth water. As he describes it, "a recipe is just a story that ends with a good meal." Some of the stories make me cry with laughter - and some make your eyes sting for pity. Mr. Conroy had a rotten relationship with his dad as a kid. He wrote a book about it, The Great Santini. Here is the end of one chapter from his cookbook, "The Pat Conroy Cookbook, Stories and Recipes from My Life:"

"My childhood was brutal, unforgiveable, and long. But I watched my father change after he discovered how much I loathed that childhood. I could tell he loved that I fed his family and friends and him. By the end of his life, my father had become proficient at telling his children he loved us, and he never once had to say the words."

Human beings of all kinds have a tremendous capacity to change, when grace blows in upon them. I do not believe we are born with an innate graciousness. I believe it is a gift of God, from Whom all good things come.

I also see that when we are young, we fear aging and death. We fear becoming less, and ending incomplete. But I have seen some people I know age well, and my observation is that maturity can only come with time and experience, and this only happens as we age. If we do it well, we grow more like ourselves as we age, we fit our own skin ever better. It is nothing to fear, and everything to embrace...

Relationships are naturally full of conflict and tension. It is difficult to really know another person's heart, even that of your own child. I know a father who raised a son with love and attention, providing all his needs, and then when his son was middle-aged, his dad discovered that there was an ocean of experiences, a wealth of sadness, that he had missed somehow in his son's life. That son loves his father, but he is a complete and independent person who made the decision to bear his burdens alone. Children grow up, they don't NEED their parents in the same way anymore... there is a new way to relate... and yet the parent never outgrows that parental, protective love... never seems to outgrow their need to parent or their fear of failure. This is a hard thing, a massive letting go. I feel it already, I fear it already. Pat Conroy's father felt it, too.

And so we still "grow up," even at age 40-something, and 60-something. We learn. Our hands are pried open. The maturing person changes, they accept the grace given and they give as freely as they have received. This, too, is a hard thing, and perhaps receiving grace is hardest.

We experience life and learn that okay, our relationships look different than we thought they would... those conversations we had at age 40ish never took into account ___________________ . What an odd way to create mankind! God gives us light for THIS MOMENT, and not another drop of it. We walk through this world blind, deaf, and dumb to our futures, and we all do the best we can to walk gracefully straight ahead. It helps to have the Holy Spirit holding our hand, and "the everlasting arms" beneath us when we fall... and we will fall.

I know another father whose daughter is on the verge of adulthood, and he has loved her with everything that is in him. Despite his own challenges and stresses of late, he has never stopped paying attention to her, bearing her burdens in addition to his own, in an attempt to help her bridge this transition well. And today I talked to him about how she is resisting their efforts to love her, she is determined to escape, she is stiff-arming their attempts to help her with what she cannot see is her need... and he put his fist over his stomach and said, "It gets you right here, right here..." And he is learning, and his wife is learning, to let go. To love in a new way. It is a hard thing.

And I am learning as I watch these events unfold how to maybe begin to not fear these things so very much - change, pain, regret, even sorrow are bound to come, bringing maturity in their wake. They put lines on your face and gray in your hair, and suddenly you're wise... you're comfortable in your skin... you're gracious... and you're still breathing. I'm so far from that place yet, but I hope that I have time to get there. Not that there is any grand entrance or any "final destination" before we enter the gates of heaven, but... when I read Mr. Conroy's words, I think to myself, "it doesn't take much..." It doesn't take much to bring someone else a little peace, to extend a bit of graciousness. Mr. Conroy had to write a book full of words to show his dad that he hated that time of his life. Sometimes we have to listen to our child sob it out or watch them experience trauma before we understand - but Lord willing we will be given ears to hear, and grace to receive, along with those children. Mr. Conroy was willing to allow his dad the space to reinvent himself... and he fed him. That has a sacramental feel to it...

And so I pray for grace in the hearts of those I love, to receive whatever small and halting efforts I can muster on my own to give what I have received, what I desire to share. To bless them with space and time and bread and wine, and that all of this will also work its magic backwards as well as forwards. There is a meeting point in the middle, an "altar" of sorts, but it may be a long, winding path that we must walk to find it. The thing about winding paths is that you can't see around those sharp bends. This is a hard thing, too: to keep walking.

Martin Lloyd-Jones wrote, "The child of the light is sometimes found walking in darkness. But he goes on walking." As the saying goes, the bend in the road isn't the end of the road -- unless you refuse to make the turn.

"Conflict is the price we pay for intimacy," I once heard a pastor say. But there is a Sabbath rest waiting for us, where we will know even as we are well known. Until that day, the effort we make to move towards one another (or at least towards a common goal of converging points), obeying Jesus' last command to "love one another" as He loved us, is never wasted. He captures each tear we shed... and He hears our conversations:

"Then those who feared the Lord spoke with one another. The Lord paid attention and heard them, and a book of remembrance was written before him of those who feared the Lord..." Mal. 3:16

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.
Romans 8:28

God set us in families, in churches, in communities. Each spouse, friend, sibling, and child is intentional on His part to draw us to Himself and teach us about Himself. He is Father, Brother, Friend, Master, Teacher, and more... It takes about "fourscore years and ten" to learn what it means to live in these roles and alongside others who play these roles, as well. It takes a lifetime to discover all the things we could never discover in isolation: how we are loved and how to love. When we enter death, we will have experienced a life full of disappointments, disillusions, pain, weakness, and failure... and won't this make the beauty of the ultimate standard, kept, all that much more glorious? We will hear our new name called (Revelation 2:17) and we will startle and say, "Yes! That is who I am, and I never could quite make it out, before..." It will take us a lifetime to grow into that name. And then we will see our loved ones and they, too, will have new names, and we will smile bigger than we have ever smiled before, and we will KNOW that this is who they have always been... and we will rejoice to have seen them BECOMING. We will worship at the feet of the One who never forgot who we all really were.

"...what we are is known to God..." (I Cor. 5:11)

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known." (I Cor. 13:12)

"Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Amen."

Keeping the Faith

2010-06-12T10:24:00.004-04:00

I think we're probably a lot like most other American families: we've now seen every episode of The Suite Life of Zach and Cody, Wizards of Waverly Place, and Hannah Montana exactly 51.5 times each. I'm at my limit.

I used to think The Suite Life was pretty funny (the old ones)... until I reached official overload status. I've never liked Wizards really. The mom looks too old, the big brother is too geeky, and the sister has no redeeming qualities (why does her best friend love her, exactly?). Can I just say that it would help me watch Hannah Montana if there were some attractive people on the show? How shallow is that. I don't know, somewhere along the line I got used to watching attractive people on my tv.

My LEAST favorite Disney show award, though, goes to Sonny With a Chance. Oh my stars. OH. MY. STARS. I don't know where to begin, so I won't even try. The only redeeming factor on this show is that little blonde guy - he's actually pretty funny, and he seems like a good kid, and if he were mine I'd be pretty proud of that. He's an anomaly on Disney shows, too - he's actually fairly good looking, in an odd kinda way.

This is all beside my point, really, just a small venting that needed to be done! :)
What I wanted to say was that despite my disdain for all things Hannah Montana, and despite the cheesiness that I know I fell flat on my face for, I totally love her song, "The Climb." (Ironically, my kids GROAN when they hear this song on the radio!) There is NO WAY that a 16 year old girl wrote this song, though. I don't know who wrote it, but they have to be at least 30. At least. Yeah, see... to write a song like that, you have to have had some LIFE EXPERIENCE. You have to have had to actually CLIMB some mountains, so to speak. I think this is why my kids groan over the song - they totally don't get it yet. Just wait, kids... you just wait...

In case you live on an uninhabited island somewhere with no radio or television, I will print the lyrics for you here:

The Climb

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming
There's a voice inside my head sayin',
"You'll never reach it."

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaking

But I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna want to make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down but
No, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments
I'm gonna remember most, yeah,
Just keep on going

And I, I've gotta be strong
Just keep on pushing on

'Cause there's always gonna be another mountain
Always gonna want to make it move
Always gonna be an uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep the faith...

It's completely ridiculous to see a 39 year old woman on a treadmill, sweating to death, fighting tears with her fist in the air: "I'm keeping the faith, Hannah!" Ha ha! Oh, that makes me laugh, that... what an image.

But seriously, it's like my theme song lately. There is ALWAYS another mountain, and yes, I ALWAYS despise it: "MOVE, for pete's sake, you stupid MOUNTAIN!" It's always so irritating, so in my way. It took me a long time to finally realize that the obstacles in my way aren't incidental. They ARE life. I'm not into Zen Buddhism but I can only imagine that this would be a huge tenant of it: "get over it and get peace already."

"Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose." Well, that says it all, doesn't it? There is no option. I cannot win every battle, and there are going to be mountains that I not only trip over or scramble up... there will be mountains to climb on my belly, army-crawling, fist-grabbing handfuls of dust as I pull myself up. You get dirty doing that.

There are also mountain-tops, sunsets, and green valleys... birdseye views of the vistas of mountains yet to go, the ones that look blue and beautiful from a distance, hope rising behind them all.

I'm learning that the more I learn to accept the entire experience of life... scrambling, dirty, beautiful, peaceful, HARD... the more I appreciate that phrase, "Keep the faith." I also begin to treasure these verse:

Rev. 14:12
"Here is a call for the endurance of the saints, those who keep the commandments of God and their faith in Jesus."

Psalm 146:5-6
"Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the Lord his God, Who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them,
Who keeps faith forever..."

Elisabeth Elliott used to open her 15 minute radio program years ago with these words, every day: "You are loved with an everlasting love. That is what the Bible says. And underneath are the everlasting arms." Even as I'm singing with Miley, "Keep the faith, keep the faith...," I know deeper down that it is God who is keeping me... "underneath are the everlasting arms..." yes, indeed... my arms are not strong enough and I am not brave enough. There is never enough of me or my own resources to go the distance... it's never enough.

When Jesus appeared to Paul on the Damascus Road, it was a blinding experience and therefore crippling experience. Jesus said to him, "It is hard for you to kick against the goads." It's hard for me, too. I want to walk upright, where I want to go... but sometimes scrambling up a mountain I wish wasn't there is more peaceful, if it's a mountain of the Lord's planting.

Well, thanks Miley, for the theme song. One day I promise you'll understand why it was a hit with adults who aren't too worried about "the dream" of cars, clothes, popularity or fame anymore. And to my kids: I'll try to relegate my fist-pumping to the treadmill. ;)

Its Complicated

2010-06-11T00:01:00.001-04:00

My kids have been at "music camp" all week this week, and then afterwards we've had friends over almost every day. I've caught up with some old friends, myself, and had a nice long phone conversation with my sister, from which this post naturally flowed. The blues seem to be rolling off my shoulders with the onset of summer, and I'm thankful. Relationships are on my mind tonight.

John and I had time to talk and ponder and discuss various facets of community life this week, and one thing we both marvelled at is the way that there is nothing new under the sun... and yet we are all so hard-wired into thinking that we are unique, spinning in our own private solar systems. I've heard more than one unhappy woman in the last 3 years confess to me that she truly believes she is the only unhappy woman in the room sometimes. Intelligent women who know better, intellectualy, and yet they FEEL great pain in their isolation. They aren't the only ones: I, too, have fallen for lies like those. I've suffered their destructive consequences, as well.

I happen to know this about these women, when very few others share that knowledge. And so I have the birds-eye view of Truth, the words straight from the horses' mouths, so to speak. The interesting thing to study is the realization that other people around them have no idea of their suffering. It would shock them to find out that the person they thought was happy and settled and mature is... not. These people look to certain eyes as if they had it all - when the reality is that their "all" is crumbling to pieces. To such well-meaning people, what they think of as "truth" is something entirely different from reality.

Alternate realities: we live in other people's minds, but not as we truly are. We also live our own lives out in our own constructed realities - but who's to say which reality is "the real one?" Are we blessed? Or are we cursed? Are our husbands honorable? Or are they irritating? Are our children chosen by God, covenant princes and princesses? Or are they thorns in our side sent to inflict pain on us every day? Is our home a blessing - or a burden?

Well, enough philosophizing. Sociology majors can have a field day with that, and certainly we all as Christians ought to know better than to find our own identity and validation in others' PERCEPTIONS of us.

My point and "pep-talk-to-self" is just this: we ought to give other people that same opportunity. Let them define themselves, as God reveals their identities to them. Then give them the freedom to be just that and nothing more.
The only way I know to do this is by asking questions and listening hard. Turn off the spotlight effect, and for a few moments lay aside the comparisons. Whether they are positive comparisons (leading to pride) or negative comparisons (which lead to... hm! pride! can one become prideful in their suffering? I think so, if it focuses the minds eye towards that Self...), just lay them all down.

Another hard thing to do that must be done if we are going to allow someone the space to clarify perceptions is to simply stop leaping and bounding into assumptions. It's easy to assume a lot, without even thinking. Before we know it, our behavior towards another person becomes based upon a foundation of assumptions we didn't even know we had built. We try to get into someone's head - sometimes in an effort to communicate better - and next thing you know, you're offending where you want to be encouraging, wounding when you want to be healing. I've certainly done this before, much to my regret. I think I've learned from it, though... a little bit, anyway.

What are some easy assumptions to make?

1. That person must not have anything to worry about, they are obviously so wealthy...

2. Their kids are so beautiful and talented... they must be such great parents. Their kids are going to be so successful... they will never be lonely.

3. That couple is so attractive! He is obviously in love with her, and why not. She must feel SO lucky, all the time...

4. That family is always busy. People must love to be around them...

5. She always looks so perky... I'll bet she's never been sad a day in her life...

6. He looks so laid back, standing there with his coffee. I'll bet he never gets anxious or stressed.

7. Those kids seem to love their parents... I'll bet their parents have never yelled at them or made them feel badly about anything.

8. Her home is so beautiful. It must be wonderful to live there, so peaceful and relaxing.

9. I'm sure their new car, big house, and club membership - and vacation - were paid for IN CASH. With wads left in the savings account.

10. That dad just LOOKS like he leads a quality family worship every single night. You can tell he is the head of their home.

They sound silly in black and white, but I've had a few of those notions from time to time, and I've had others actually say similar things to me about people they barely knew, so I don't think I'm alone in entertaining such silliness. It's an interesting past time, trying to make the pieces fit. Sometimes we even want them to fit in a certain way, in order to justify ourselves. It's an ugly business sometimes, the workings of the human heart.

I find that even in marriages, where perhaps we are best known in all this world, it is all too easy to assume and attribute motives and soon we're stiff and anxious and we're wondering why... Why do we feel so misunderstood, so defensive, so sensitive? We develop habits of NOT THINKING THE BEST OF ONE ANOTHER. We stop listening in our driving quest to be understood ourselves. We stop validating in our effort to gain validation. It smells like the right medicine, potent and powerful. Of course, how logical! We expect to feel better, and are surprised to find ourselves mired in a tar baby, so to speak. We're stuck, feeling resentful and angry and frustrated, strength sapped.

Grace, on the other hand, seems counterproductive. The Gospel seems like foolishness. Listening when we only really want to be heard seems to be too much to ask. Making assumptions is natural. Drawing conclusions and acting accordingly is the default mode that keeps us from having to work too hard. It justifies those walls and fences that we put around our own hearts.

Relationships are complicated. No marriage is a simple fix, and no friendship can be made deeper by a simple, "just listen." :) I don't mean to say... "And this is all there is to that. The end." I just mean to say, here is a beginning point, I believe... in the mind.

Wednesdays with Ann

2010-06-09T00:03:00.006-04:00

Ann Voskamp is spending her Wednesdays this month thinking about marriage. I read Ann's blog, Holy Experience, every day, and I've really enjoyed her series "Walk With Him Wednesdays," so I'm attempting to join that conversation this month.

When I was a young married woman without children in my arms, yet, I had plenty of time for Bible studies with my friends. We would take turns hostessing each other in our little rentals with beige walls, beige carpet, and "temporary" furniture. One summer my friend, Erin, invited a lovely older woman (who was probably about my age, now!) to come and present a series to us in her little basement apartment, and we would all crowd around her as she stood at an easel, talking to us about how to be good wives to our young husbands. We invited our Sunday School teacher, too, who was a grandmother by then, and she would sit in the white rocking chair and laugh quietly or offer her own more practical sort of wisdom. I remember our teacher once mentioning pedicures - she said something in passing like, "you know, because I didn't want my feet to be all scratchy under the sheets..." and oh, how that gave our Sunday School teacher a convulsive giggle. I'm sure those grandmotherly feet had probably never had a pedicure in their life!

It may not be very original, but my friends and I still remember one very important word-picture from those lessons long ago: we are the "thermostat" of our homes. We also learned a lot about "garbage in, garbage out..." and how poisonous a bitter heart really is. When you jostle a bowl of blue, sticky jello, still warm from the stove, sticky blue jello is what spills out - and doesn't come off easily. "What is in your heart?" she asked us, once upon a time... she knew better than the rest of us that IT MATTERED, because life jostles. We were young, then, and we had no idea how much jostling we would all take, and for how long...

My husband is my saving grace, I say that all the time. His love for me covers a multitude of my sins. I'm so unlovely, and he refuses to see the ugliness... I'm so flushed with the heat of "trampled rights," and he is the one who cools me off, protecting the children from my flames... I spill bitterness, and he rolls up his shirtsleeves, bends, and washes my filthy mess. Again, again, and again.

I am old enough now to have known many marriages that have faltered or failed altogether, and I've noticed that there is a thought pattern that emerges, common to most if not all: bitterness begins with a list, kept diligently in front of the mind; it then often becomes point for point a place of comparison where only LACK is observed, recorded, and nursed like a wound; and from there, distance begins to grow as self-protective measures begin to be put into place. "Fine, I'll just do it myself," is something that I've heard myself say both in my own head, and out loud in utter exasperation, certain that I'm a martyr! These are moments that are never isolated - quickly behind those thoughts come others: "All I need him to do is _______. Why can't he figure that out?" It's funny how hard it is to mutter such thoughts to yourself for the hour that it takes to clean the bathroom and closet... and then enjoy snuggling with your man in bed.

The fact is, John may NOT know what I need. He may be quiet, he may be giving me space when I want to be pursued, he may be pursuing me when I want space... but most of all, what he wants is...

MY HAPPINESS. He wants me to be happy. He studies my face for flickers of joy. He wants to see that he is in my heart.

I say this, I know this... I tell my friends this. Why do I then withhold the windows to my soul? Why do I feel the need to guard my joy jealously? What do I fear, what am I afraid to lose?

The other night I was "talking to myself," saying this to myself, "Self! Snap out of it!" my weary eyes, closing, willing myself to get over myself, again... and then my eyes flew open when this thought occurred to me:

He lives to make me happy, my happiness is his goal... but what is mine? Have I ever thought to myself, "I just want to make him happy?" I have a feeling that most of the time what I'm too busy thinking is about how HE could be making me happier... "if only..."

And I had to laugh at the irony of it all: if I would spend my time making an equally great effort to serve John's happiness, thinking of his needs and not my own, we would BOTH be receivers, we would neither suffer lack.
"Everyone also to whom God has given... power... to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil — this is the gift of God.... for God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart."
Ecc. 5:19-20

Of course I'm not referring to a simplistic, narcissistic form of "happiness," but rather a "blessedness" that Jesus speaks of, with the eternal quality that Paul wrote about in I Corinthians 13. The person who is well loved like that, practicing love like that, could not fail to be deeply satisfied. Jesus' very last command to his disciples before his death: "love one another." This requires "toil," and an "acceptance of my lot." I heard a marriage counselor on tv actually say a wise thing tonight! He said, "Rather than LOOKING for 'the right person,' try BEING 'the right person.'" This is a gift of God, which often involves faith and repentance. These are not things we can pick up on the way to Kroger... these are things that come with humility and prayer and the Holy Spirit's mercy.

And what is the result? Sweet water for bitter. Clean air, at just the right temperature, blowing through the open windows. All that happiness that we thought would come from gazing at our own reflection...

and glory to our God, whose image our marriage is created to reflect.

When John comes home whistling, the tone for my evening is set. When he walks in the door with a sigh or a grunt of pain, my spirit that should rally for his sake seems to flag. How many days do I fail to see how my attitude at his arrival not only sets the tone for HIS evening, but for all my children as well? It is a voracious woman who demands that her husband soak up her distress as he walks in the back door... it is a bitter spring of water that pours forth bitterness at the end of the day, depriving her family of refreshment... and it is a selfish woman who won't muster the energy to raise kind eyes to the man who has worked all day out of sheer love... and returns home every night out of sheer faithfulness.

Colossians 3:12-15
Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other;
as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.
And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body.
And be thankful.

Matthew 10:8
Freely you have received, freely give.

This is what I know, and it is my prayer that it will become what I do. Our pastor prayed a simple request recently, and I wrote it down later:
"Lord, show us what we ought to do - and how we ought to do it." I would add to that, "... and show us how we are loved, and how we ought to love in return."

I wrote earlier about the dying words of a Country Priest: "What does it matter? Everything is grace..." and I find myself saying those words again and again, in an attempt to replace bitter springs with sweet: "This child is grace... this man is grace... this bed is grace... this hour is grace." We sometimes have to say these things until we feel them. I have to practice the presence of the Lord by recognizing that this man represents Christ to me... and so in a like manner, I receive what is given, graciously and with gratitude; and I give what I have, cheerfully.

I also know this: rehearsing the (real or imagined) wrongs, exploring the depths of the emptiness, or mentally reconstructing a history of "personal unmet needs" inflicts only pain and constructs only barriers, both sapping strength and removing connection - and hope. It also misrepresents Christ, not only to the world but to my own mind's eye.
It is GOD who "occupies my heart with joy..." He knows better than I what will constitute that joy - it is I who kick against those goads, accomplishing only my own destruction. "The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish one tears it down with her own hands." (Prov. 14:1) We don't any of us set out with the intention to destroy anything! We just intend to get our own way... to choose to LOOK AT what we want to see, and make them see it, too. I protect and defend my rights by refusing to let them go... I lock my joy away, in case it should be misunderstood: My "lack" was never forgotten. I want to obligate and to bind, even while I know that real love forgives and frees. There are lies living in me that I am attempting to shed light upon lately, in hopes that they will scuttle away and die. There are deep waters that taste bitter, and as long as they are there, I will draw them up again and again "as needed." What is required is to dry up that well, and dig another one filled with sweet water, so that when life jostles, only the good stuff spills. This is hard, but I never had any guarantees that it would be easy...

Marriage is momentary, a glimpse at future realities. Now we must toil for it, but then... we will rest forever in it. King David said, "I will not offer God something which cost me nothing." Tears sting when I read that. I'm convicted by my laziness, my lethargic attempts to enter that rest without much effort, to achieve a glory that cost me nothing. Words are cheap - it's love that is costly, coming from the stores of "dignity" that I hoarde like the foolish rich man whose soul was required of him. Jesus spent every last drop of his dignity on His Bride, and a servant is never greater than her Master.

...like the ooze of oil...

2010-06-07T08:02:00.001-04:00

God's Grandeur
Gerald Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

pictures: cnn

It's Summer and All's Grace

2010-06-05T21:25:00.008-04:00

We had two weeks between the end of our school year and the "official" beginning of summer break (which means the beginning of all our summer activities). I knew I would need those 2 weeks for wrapping up the 2009-2010 school year, and then to prepare for the 2010-2011 one to come. Because -- summer break ain't what it used to be, sweetie! I've had to get used to the fact that while summertime DOES involve its fair share of sitting around a pool, it also involves a lot of time in the van...

I remember those days of packing up the young ones after lunch, heading to the pool to meet up with friends, and then sitting there for HOURS - until dinnertime! - doing mostly nothing. About 5 pm, the moms would start saying things like, "I think I'll stop at Hot Thomas for bbq tonight..." or the dads would start showing up for dinner, poolside. Those were days of sleepy children tucked away by 7 pm, pink and healthy and happy.

Now I think we're so used to the pace we're better off just keeping it up all summer, anyway. It's still busy in its way, but the pressure is off and the evenings are often free... and change can be refreshing in itself. We are not running hither and yon to classes of this or that nature. Now we are going to the long-course pool for swim practice twice a week, youth Bible studies with friends at church, summer camps at the beach, VBS, and other events scheduled around FUN. The schedule has room in it for possibilities, but somehow I'm still tired at the end of the day, thinking about how I'd love to get back into my french lessons... or catch up with my scrapbook... or BLOG again...

Summertime is also the time for fun reading, right? So yesterday I took the kids to the pool and I picked up my newest paperback: The Diary of a Country Priest. Now in a healthier frame of mind, this would have been a fine choice. (not your typical summer reading list, but it would have been... fine.) It's an EXCELLENT book. But I'm working on month THREE of the blues, and lets just say this was NOT a kick in the pants. It's like a beautiful, slow-motion trainwreck -- a work-of-art trainwreck that you are compelled to watch, no matter how many times the tears WILL well up in your eyes.

Sometimes I am the type of reader who skips through a book, sinking in here and there, breaking every rule of reading! I've even been known to read the ending first, yes, I have. I started this book yesterday, thinking it would be nice poolside easy reading, this slow moving book. And today I devoured it through lunchtime, hunched over it in my pajamas, and now it's bedtime and although I mostly finished it, I'm not over it yet.

What I need is a good laugh, I guess - usually what you need isn't what you long for at that moment. It's a mild form of the blues that I tend to get - it feels like trying to run in water. It reminds me of that verse: "Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed." (Heb. 12:12-13) Have you ever felt like your arms were heavy, feeble, listless? Have you ever felt like your eyes were only half open, and it was such an effort to make them bright again?

The poor little Country Priest learned something I've yet to learn. He spoke these words on his deathbed: "What does it matter? Everything is grace." I couldn't help but think of the lyrics to this song that we listen to a good bit in the van on all those summertime rides:

So more than watchmen for the morning
I will wait for You, my God
When my fears come with no warning
In Your Word I’ll put my trust
When the harvest time is over and I still see no fruit
I will wait, I will wait for You
Sovereign Grace music, "Out of the Depths"

Sometimes there are just phases of life like that, a long wait. Today it occurred to me that even this time will be sanctified, even though it feels of no use, of "no matter." But the priest was right: it is all grace. Nothing we can bring, even on our best days, is worth more than rags... it must all be sanctified, redeemed, every act must be multiplied like the loaves and the fishes to be representative at all of the glory that was intended.

It was St. Therese who originally said, "Grace is everywhere." Remy Rougeau writes, "She was not particularly interested in realizing her 'full potential,' as we say nowadays..." and then he quotes her as saying:
"Offer to God the sacrifice of never gathering any fruit. If He will that throughout your whole life you should feel repugnance to suffering and humiliation - if He permit that all the flowers of your desires and your good will should fall to the ground without any fruit appearing, do not repine. At the hour of your death, in the twinkling of an eye, He will cause fair fruits to ripen on the tree of your soul."

Remy Rougeau continues, "Christian discipleship has always involved more than simply an admiration for Jesus the Suffering Servant; it involves an actual sharing in his life, a participation in his fate...

If one believes that God is everywhere, then grace is everywhere, too. Even, and perhaps more particularly, in suffering...

Saints have a difficult position in society not because they suffer. We all suffer. They, however, are ambassadors of truth in a world of illusion. Our world is more of an illusion than ever, a narcotic upon senses and judgment. Grace is perhaps more necessary than ever..."

I do not mean to imply that I am suffering... but I do find myself in agreement, yes, this world is an illusion, a narcotic... and much of what is said is in fact the opposite of what Jesus said, if we would only learn to listen to those voices with discernment. This is hard to do, because the narcotic works upon senses and judgment, yes. There are book jackets in Christian bookstores with smiling, beautiful people, offering you everything you ever dreamed of: happiness, contentment, freedom, even wealth. There are bumper stickers that tell us life should be good. There are always other people who look like they have it all and are able to do it all, with grace and simplicity.

It goes against the grain, and possibly even moreso against the grain of a born-and-bred American, to "deny yourself, take up your cross DAILY, and follow Jesus" all the way to... death. To be willing to die like a seed in the ground, apparently fruitless.

And yet: to refuse to be silenced into apathy, but instead to "lift the drooping hands" and say with this poor dying priest, "What does it matter? Everything is grace," and then to begin quietly counting the graces, one by one...

Like these:

*sunshine and pool water

*friends who can make even listless lids open wide, crinkling corners

*work, finished

*one original story, unique in a billion, word-pictures that make me pause and blink

*sunsets that make everything and everyone look beautiful in their soft, peachskin light

*a change of pace

*tart green tomatoes and red rhubarb stains

*church dresses and seersucker suits

*hot showers and cool cotton sheets

*to be loved, tenderly, when everything feels tender to the touch

Torn

2010-06-04T00:20:00.000-04:00

I think about blogging, and I have moments when my eyes wander to the computer...

but I also love paper and pen.

I'm torn between the ease of typing and the visual satisfaction of pictures added to words...

and...

the feel of smooth paper, the thought that must precede words written in ink (no neat edits, only the blur of ugly lines and curly-cues), and the indulgence of total privacy in a bound journal. There's room to know yourself well in a journal.

Both are cathartic, but they serve very different purposes. I don't always have time for both...

Then again, maybe it's like everything else: simpler than I try to make it...

Torsion

2010-06-01T00:36:00.003-04:00

Marilynne Robinson begins her story titled "Home" with these words, in the first chapter:

"There was a torsion in its body that made it look like a giant dervish to them. Their father said if they could see as God can, in geological time, they would see it leap out of the ground and turn in the sun and spread its arms and bask in the joy of being an oak tree..."

Today I felt the torsion in myself, soul and body... These are days that I describe like this: "I feel like I can't catch my tail." I'm spinning, and it's great effort, but it seems so fruitless.

Maybe that old pastor was right: maybe if I could see things the way God sees them -not the way they appear to me to be as I race against the clock everyday - maybe I would see a slow growth of limbs upwards, a slow growth towards joy in the torsion.

The Gifts:
* hills and mountains in my way, the ones I look up at, wearily, the ones I usually wish would just GO AWAY already...
* hills and mountains that house my Helper - the Maker of Heaven and Earth...
* One who never sleeps, the voice behind me saying, "This is the way, walk in it...," the hand to hold that keeps me from falling utterly...
* weakness that shows His strength, sinfulness that makes me pray, and leanness that prepares me for feasting...
* every Sunday benediction, where the table is laid out for me, in the midst of all these my enemies... "and the Spirit and the Bride say, 'Come.' "
* His banner on the battlefield, gathering the tired troops... it is LOVE that prepares the table there, in the middle of the tumult. There IS rest, defense, protection, and a new identity to be found and had...
* Every morning, new mercies...

Storybook Food

2010-05-05T21:49:00.001-04:00

Claire's eyes lit up at the sight of our new little egg cups:
"OH! Oh! It's like Frances'!"

Tiny, storybook food could not be more appreciated.
(unless maybe it was the popovers from "Little Women...")

"It was breakfast time,
and everyone was at the table.
Father was eating his egg.
Mother was eating her egg.
Gloria was sitting in a high chair and eating her egg, too.
Frances was eating bread and jam.
'What a lovely egg!' said Father.
'If there is one thing I am fond of for breakfast, it is a soft-boiled egg.'
'Yes,' said Mother, spooning up egg for the baby,
'it is just the thing to start the day off right.'
'Ah!' said Gloria, and ate up her egg."

from Frances Hoban's wonderful "Bread and Jam for Frances"

The Trees of the Field Clap Their Hands

2010-05-04T22:21:00.004-04:00

"And there was the oak tree in front of the house, much older than the neighborhood or the town, which made rubble of the pavement at its foot and flung its imponderable branches out over the road and across the yard, branches whose girths were greater than the trunk of any ordinary tree. There was a torsion in its body that made it look like a giant dervish to them. Their father said if they could see as God can, in geological time, they would see it leap out of the ground and turn in the sun and spread its arms and bask in the joy of being an oak tree..."

Marilynne Robinson, Home
image: oak tree on church grounds

Tales from the Beach

2010-05-03T05:54:00.001-04:00

This is an old re-post from an idea for a blog I once started but didn't manage to keep up with. I'm deleting the blog, and this was the only post I couldn't stand to see disappear entirely. Strangely, it seems to be almost more signficant to me now, 7 months later...

Sometimes I read and things come together and I munch on them awhile. At the beach I had some quiet time and I wrote down the things in my head. I thought I'd post it so you can see in my head. :)

When I stop to think about it, I've had a lot of friends with a lot of bad news over the last 2 years. It seems that every time I turn around I'm saying, "Oh, NO." again. It's easy to say, "Life is good." It's easy to say, "God is good, all the time." But it's not easy to live as if it were true, it's not easy.

Elisabeth Elliott says that God does not give us grace for our imaginations. I'm not one prone to sentiment or nostalgia, and I try to refrain from an overindulgence in "what if's." But what mother doesn't hear of a friend's child suffering and not have her own mind fly to her own little nest? And wonder...

Still, I think we're safer as Christians being honest about life than trying to hide behind "name it and claim it" theology that is nothing more than a house of cards. If you never ask hard questions, you'll never find the answers. And if you never look reality in the eye and "set your face like a flint," you may just find your house crumbling on top of that sand one day, when your version of "reality" shifts.

With these thoughts in mind, this is what I wrote on Sept. 29th, notes and highlights and all markings included:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
for in You my soul takes refuge,
till the storms of destruction pass by.

(I find it hard to know both these things at once:
1. God is our refuge, and
2. God brings calamity and destruction:
"I form light and create darkness,
I make well-being and create calamity,
I am the Lord, who does all these things." Isaiah 42:7)

I cry out to God Most High, to God Who fulfills His purpose for me... ("For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." Eph. 2:10)

God will send out His steadfast love and faithfulness...

My heart is steadfast, O God,
my heart is steadfast!... (it is His steadfastness that keeps me steafast)

I will sing
I will give thanks
I will sing praise" (only proper response)

from Psalm 57

"The greatest temptation of our time is impatience, in the full, original meaning: refusal to wait, undergo, suffer." Eugen Rosenstock Huessy

"There are times we want to blame God instead of thanking Him! Perhaps we ought to thank Him more often...

Look for the perfect mistakes...

We are all going through struggles. May we praise God in the midst of them."

(Mrs. "D," who founded Courtney's school)

Jonah 4:4
"Do you do well to be angry?" (the implied answer here is NO. Jonah did NOT do well to be angry. He was petulant and irrational. And so am I, on a regular basis. God is so merciful, so gentle and fatherly here, just like He was with Cain...)

Gen. 4:6
"The Lord said to Cain, 'Why are you angry, and why has your face fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is crouching at your door. Its desire is for you, but you must rule over it." (This is how I speak to my children, encouraging, motivating, rousing their senses, applying logic and reason to their emotional reactions. Martyn Lloyd-Jones often said we have to TALK to ourselves, and stop LISTENING to ourselves. That reminds me of David, in the Psalms, when he would write, "Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why disquieted? Put your hope in God!")

Luke 22:31
"Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail."
(At this point, I think Simon's faith was of a "name it and claim it" variety. He was feeling invincible... It was suffering that made him a different man. Mostly my goal in this life seems to be to avoid pain, suffering, and even inconveniences, both for myself and for my children. If I had my way, I'd probably never get to heaven, and neither would those I love the most. In so doing, I would destroy the very ones I longed to protect.)

Ecc. 7:14
"In the day of prosperity be joyful, and in the day of adversity consider: God has made the one as well as the other..."
(I just read Nancy today at femina, who said this: "We are about to enter winter without autumn. (Sounds like Narnia’s plight of always winter and never Christmas.) Even those things which seem to be fixed for all time (like the seasons) are under God’s sovereign command. He does as He pleases and He rules over all. And if it suits Him to skip autumn or spring, then that is exactly what happens. And when I think of it that way, I can smile at the cold."
And I think we can apply that to all circumstances, be they simply inconvenient or life-changingly tragic.)

Isaiah 64
Oh that You would rend the heavens and come down...

When you did awesome things that we did not look for, You came down... (and this has made all the difference in the world... "Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted..." Hebrews 12:3 )

From of old no one has heard or perceived by ear,
No eye has seen a God besides you,
Who acts for those who wait for Him. ("the greatest temptation of our time is impatience, in its full, original meaning: a refusal to wait, undergo, suffer.")

You meet him who joyfully works righteousness,
those who remember You in Your ways. (It is so easy to forget to remember, and so hard to see clearly when we have forgotten...)

...in our sins we have been a long time, and shall we be saved?

We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.

There is no one who... rouses himself to take hold of You, for you have... made us melt in the hand of our iniquities. (dig in, take hold, "rule over it.")

But now, Lord, You are our Father.
We are the clay, and You are our Potter; we are all the work of Your hand.

BEHOLD, PLEASE LOOK. WE ARE ALL YOUR PEOPLE."

Rom. 9
"Who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, 'Why have you made me like this?' Has the Potter no right over the clay?" (this reminds me of the words God spoke to Jonah, only more forthrightly spoken. The bottom line is faith: If God is our Potter, then He has the right... and we are left with only this to say: "We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.” Luke 17:10 )

running commentary:
In my experience, the Christian life is not restful nor peaceful - at least not the rest or peace I think of, the kind that the world offers, a sort of mindless passivity. The kind people are always telling me I should have, even well-meaning people. (They add to my distress sometimes.) Instead, it is a constant coming, remembering, rousing, trusting, believing, letting go, taking up, discerning, struggling, denying, clinging, singing, asking, considering, changing.

Sometimes it gets confusing when we say, "Salvation by faith alone" - we're led to deny that there is ANY effort required of us. There is certainly some mystery in sanctification, but it is obvious at least that our effort is part of the equation (although in what measure we are always uncertain!). God makes the road rise to meet us, in His mercy. We look back and see "Surely He has carried us ALL the way to this place."

It's true, "all's grace."
But unexpectedly, grace sometimes FEELS hard and wearisome. Even Jesus wept, and even Jesus was weary, and even His heart's requests were denied, at least once. Even He had to "SET His face like a flint," when He was lonely, exhausted, afraid and severely distressed.

What He knew well was what I forget: there was JOY set before Him! And that prospect, that certainty, that belief in a truer reality, made Him noble and brave, heroic, strong, and obedient. It wasn't restful or easy, the road wasn't safe, and He knew better than anyone the hidden evils in the depths of Creation.

But He stood straight, He never retreated, and He loved the people uncalculatingly. He knew Who He was and where He was going, and He spoke the Truth. He found HIS peace in knowing God is good, His purposes are good, and they cannot be thwarted.

So, "looking unto Jesus," we hear Him say this to us, if we listen:

"My peace I leave with you."

further reading:
The Sin of Impatience,
Don't Be Afraid (Let Evening Come)

Thirty-Nine

2010-05-02T12:47:00.003-04:00

Happy birthday to me.

It was rather uneventful but I brought home the goods...

The weather was springtime delight, I found the perfect coffee mug,
my son took me out for ice cream, and my husband cooked me dinner.

Also: I have a camera again.

Oh happy day!

Grounded

2010-04-28T00:49:00.008-04:00

Sometimes the world sounds convincing in my ears, its logic almost compelling...

and I start to wonder, "Do I KNOW what I KNOW?" I like to be right, who doesn't? But am I? Or am I just comfortable and reticent to move? Is the tilt-a-whirl doing me a favor by shifting me from my position? Or should I dig in more fiercely, grab more tightly to what I think I know?

I don't know, and I start to feel motion-sick. Sick at heart.

And then my husband takes me out to dinner, and he looks at me with kind eyes and he listens with gracious ears to my heart. And once again, I know what I know, and my world stops tilting absurdly. He grounds me with favor, respect, validation, and understanding. He responds to me, and my heart sighs with relief for being heard and answered.

And I will never ever forget those eyes.

picture: 18th anniversary, last summer

Falling Down and Letting Go

2010-04-26T23:03:00.001-04:00

I think it is very hard to learn to let go. Of anything. The sermon this past Sunday was about "Purpose Driven Death," which in our society is not a hot topic. Dying to self means letting go - again, and again, and again - of everything that is dear to us. Sometimes it means letting go of THE SAME THING again, again, and again. Our pastor explained how we can identify idolatry in our hearts when we examine 3 things:
1. what we fear losing the most (this would be our idol)
2. the way we try to control things so that we don't lose that idol
3. the anger we feel when we do lose our idol

As a mother, I think children leap to mind when it comes to fear, control issues, and anger (or frustration). They are the thing(s) we are made to give up and let go again, again, and again. And why must we give them up? So that God can take them the rest of the way. And so our fear is revealed ultimately as a lack of trust in God's willingness to take them by the hand. We ask "what if?" and explore too many imaginary avenues. Fear waits down every one of those avenues for our arrival, because as Elisabeth Elliot once said, "God doesn't give us grace for our imaginations."

Maybe it's not children. Maybe it's that special person close to us that we can't imagine life without. To have such people in our lives is a blessing - and yet it creates a vulnerability in our spirits at the same time.

Today I read an update written by a very old friend of mine. This couple had all but disappeared from our history until they showed up on facebook (of course!) and we were able to reconnect. Years had passed, and the story of the last two grueling years they have lived through was hard to read and yet a blessing to me, because they have lived through it in faith. As I was reading, I kept thinking of the very young, unmarried people we were, all four of us, at one point in our lives, unwitting and unprepared for our futures. If I could go back and see those 4 people at age twentyish, I would shake my head and think, "they will never make it. Life is too hard, it takes too long."

And here we are, and there is this shining family and this wise, mature woman telling this story with grace and faith and I can't help but think of my daughters sleeping upstairs... there are nights when I shake my head and cry in bed with fears that I've missed the boat, and it's sailing... they won't make it... they're not prepared, there is not enough time, they won't be ready. But...

There is always a "but..."

This is my transitional phase. I am learning to stop protecting and start walking alongside. I can hold their hand for awhile, and keep them from falling headlong. I'm teaching them what it feels like to walk, unprotected, and yet always guided. You have to LEARN to reach for a hand when you're falling. Soon I will have to let go and close my eyes and whisper a prayer and trust in "God Almighty, our most merciful Father." He gets the last leg of the race, because it's the longest and hardest one to travel.

Psalm 37:23-24:
The steps of a man are established by the Lord,
when he delights in his way;
though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong,
for the Lord upholds his hand.

I am reading a book that is shifting my paradigm. It is a lovely, lovely book full of sadness and hope and light and sacrament. Listen to this old preacher write to his young son as he prepares a sermon, knowing he hasn't long to live:

"The story of Hagar and Ishmael came to mind while I was praying this morning, and I found a great assurance in it. The story says that it is not only the father of a child who cares for its life, who protects its mother, and it says that even if the mother can't find a way to provide for it, or herself, provision will be made. At that level it is a story full of comfort. That is how life goes - we send our children into the wilderness. Some of them on the day they were born, it seems, for all the help we can give them. Some of them seem to be a kind of wilderness unto themselves. But there must be angels there, too, and springs of water. Even that wilderness, the very habitation of jackals, is the Lord's. I need to bear this in mind...

Great faith is required to give the child up, trusting God to honor the parents' love for him by assuring that there will indeed be angels in that wilderness.

...Abraham himself had been sent into the wilderness, told to leave his father's house also... this was the narrative of all generations, and... it is only by the grace of God that we are made instruments of His providence and participants in a fatherhood that is always ultimately His...

I had a dream once that [my friend] and I were down at the river looking around in the shallows for something or other - when we were boys it would have been tadpoles -and my grandfather stalked out of the trees in that furious way he had, scooped his hat full of water, and threw it, so a sheet of water came sailing toward us, billowing in the air like a veil, and fell down over us. Then he put his hat back on his head and stalked off into the trees again and left us standing there in that glistening river, amazed at ourselves and shining like the apostles. I mention this because it seems to me transformations just that abrupt do occur in this life, and they occur unsought and unawaited, and they beggar your hopes and your deserving."
Gilead, Marilynne Robinson

Growing up is just such a transformation. The days are long, but the years are short, full of a lot of falling down and getting up - as well as a lot of letting go - again, and again, and again. And finally we look back and find ourselves amazed, shining like the apostles, full of wonder: "how did this happen to me?"

Relationships are complicated and often conflicted, but it is in them that we grow up. We grow up TOGETHER into a "spiritual house:"

"...you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ...
Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people..."
I Peter 2:5,10

I feel I am growing up with my children, with my siblings, with my friends, and even with my parents. It is good, and these things teach us about God. There is a lot of sadness in the world, and usually one additional person tips my scales enough to send me scuttling to a safe distance to recoup - but not God. He is intimately acquainted with grief, and it doesn't weary Him, intimidate Him, or jade Him. This is good for me to remember, and I am grateful for every opportunity to learn.

Storms Brewing

2010-04-24T11:46:00.003-04:00

It is growing dark with storms outside, and it has been quite awhile since we had thunder and soaking rains. Yesterday was a perfect spring day - things can change so fast!

There is something about knowing a storm is coming, when the sky is still blue and the breeze is blowing, that makes you want to pack in some fun. When I went to bed last night, I felt like I had done that, and I was ready for the rain to fall.

"Fun" for me these days can be described quite differently than it would have been years ago. :) What did we do?
We drove to my sister's and played with the little cousins -

we visited with one of my childhood friends who was at my sister's (some friendships never die and never change!) -

Jack and I had some "alone time" (which he loves), at the ice cream shop while the girls babysat the cousins -

and we hit Publix. Yay.

And then we came home and hung out on the porch.

John came home with pizza - and the girls.

John worked on a leaky sprinkler in the lovely evening light, while the rest of us wandered around, throwing frisbees, watering flowers (because if you DON'T water, it won't rain, of course!), jumping on trampolines and swinging on Claire's newest idea: the tree swing. Jack "helped" John, and I got a little landscaping advice from my brilliant neighbor whose yard looks like Southern Living is coming to take a picture any moment. The evening before a storm is the most perfect weather, all breezy and cool and CLEAN feeling.

I went for a run and hit my mojo! I felt like I was flying.

And then I came home with boundless energy and decided to go ahead and grocery shop at 9pm, so I wouldn't have to dash through storms over the weekend.

When I got home at 11 I wasn't even tired! Why isn't every day like this? :)

This morning the smell of brewing coffee, sizzling sausage, and pancakes on the griddle filled the house and I sat on the porch waiting for the storm, coffee cup in hand.

It is noon, and the sky is dark. There is thunder in the distance. A storm is coming, but I am safely at home and the chores are done. There is a short stack of books waiting to be tucked into, and we are free to enjoy doing nothing more than enjoy.

Happy Saturday.

A Current Infatuation

2010-04-22T00:23:00.004-04:00

A few months ago I heard an interview with Marilynne Robinson, and promptly drove myself to the library to check out her books. I made a discovery that day. Marilynne Robinson is one of those rare jewels: a 20th century author who will stand the test of time. Don't get me wrong, there are some good books that I've enjoyed that were written in the 20th century. But LITERATURE that is transcendent, that seems to be lacking in our time.

Marilynne Robinson is brilliant. Read any essay or article by her (and I have), read an interview with her (or listen to one!) and you are immediately struck by her intelligence, composure, and thoughtfulness. She brings all of this to her books, which causes the reader to read with intelligence, slowly and thoughtfully. She is one of those authors that you can HEAR as you read - her voice has an unmistakeable candence, rhythym, and sound. She is a crusader of sorts, which surprised me in a way - this woman who is so reposeful (to use her word) has a fiery heart that sounds off, but does so poetically. It's an interesting thing to come across.

Robinson has written several non-fiction books that I'd love to get my hands on, but two of her three novels are plainly and simply EVERYTHING I love, everything I value in a book - and in this world. I can't do her justice here, so I'll leave you with a taste of why I smile with every paragraph, frequently closing the book on my lap to bask in the light. :) (I think I have a crush on someone's books! Ha ha! ) In fact, this is how her writing has been described: "beautiful, shimmering, and precise."
Yes, indeed.

I hope to write my own (un)critical review of these two books, Gilead and Home, one day soon. They require a better writer than myself (and more time than I usually have) to do them justice - but my soul wants to try, in an attempt to better remember the many enjoyable moments I've had, as well as the "aha!" moments I've experienced in her beautiful words. There are so many times when I finish a paragraph or a story, and I think, "Yes, that is just exactly how life is." Or I feel dazzled by something so beautifully written that it almost takes my breath away...

These are not books made to devour, but rather to chew on awhile. To me, they make my own life more radiant for the light they shine on it. So, let me share them with you, in hopes that you will discover a little pocket of beauty, truth, and goodness in this world, too.

From Gilead:

"I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can't believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don't imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try."

"You and Tobias are hopping around in the sprinkler...
you two are dancing around in your irridescent little downpour, whooping and stomping as sane people ought to do when they encounter a thing so miraculous as water."

"I must try to be more mindful of my condition. I started to lift you up into my arms the other day, the way I used to when you weren't quite so big and I wasn't quite so old...I realized what a foolish thing to do that was. I just always loved the feeling of how strongly you held on, as if you were a monkey up in a tree. Boy skinniness and boy strength."

"There was a young couple strolling along half a block ahead of me. The sun had come up brilliantly after a heavy rain, and the trees were glistening and very wet. On some impulse, plain exuberance, I suppose, the fellow jumped up and caught hold of a branch, and a storm of luminous water came pouring down on the two of them, and they laughed and took off running...
It was a beautiful thing to see, like something from a myth. I don't know why I thought of that now, except perhaps because it is easy to believe in such moments that water was made primarily for blessing, and only secondarily for growing vegetables or doing the wash. I wish I had paid more attention to it. My list of regrets may seem unusual, but who can know that they are, really. This is an interesting planet. It deserves all the attention you can give it."

And so on... every page is full of gems.
This is an odd "book review" - it tells you nothing of the books themselves. I will save that for another day, after I have finished processing. Until then, I found this LOVELY book review recently that I felt the author had completely nailed. Yes, this is just about how I feel about these books but he says it much better than I could. Being a Christian, a parent, and a friend, there are other layers he did not fully delve into that maybe I would have... but you could unpeel layers for a long time with this book. :) Here is also an interview with the author on NPR which is very good, giving you a taste for this unusual woman and how she speaks, as well as what she has to say. Click on the link to hear HEAR it as well as read it.

Hope you enjoy.

The Anti-Psalm

2010-04-20T07:02:00.001-04:00

I am reading a book titled Seeing With New Eyes, by David Powlison. It was a gift, and it has sat upon my shelf waiting all this time for me to get around to cracking the spine. Well, the spine has been cracked wide - it's a beautifully written, joyful little book, chock full of encouragement, plain truth, and help for SINFUL PEOPLE like me, with SINFUL FRIENDS AND FAMILY MEMBERS like mine. The world is a broken place, and we are broken people, but as Christians we hold true hope - and I can't hear it often enough.

Probably my favorite little chapter in the Bible is Psalm 131. Or one of my favorites, anyway. It's a quiet little thing, tucked right there in the middle of my Bible, beckoning me to a lifestyle that seems too far outside my realm of experience to ever achieve personally.
And yet... I do hold out some hope, and I keep coming back to those words.

There is a WHOLE CHAPTER in this book dedicated to those 3 little verses! If I had bought the book, it would have been worth the price of the book to get that one chapter, it was that good for me to read.

Here's a taste of Mr. Powlison's book, as I took notes on it last week:

Psalm 131
"How to Become Peaceful Inside"

1. author: King David, who was a man after God's own heart. He is processing life as we were meant to (see v.3)

2. intention: NOT stoicisim, indifference, or "lowered expectations." NOT retreat or medicated buzz.
IT IS: learned composure, done within relationship; conscious, alert, chosen self-mastery by the grace of God.

Deliverance from Noise:
The "anti-psalm" describes where soul-noise comes from:

"Self,
My heart is proud (I am right in myself)
And my eyes are haughty (I look down on other people, as well)
And I chase after things too great and too difficult for me.

So I am noisy and restless inside;
it comes naturally,
Like a hungry infant fussing on its mother's lap.
Like a hungry infant, I am restless with my demands and worries.

I scatter my hopes onto anything and everybody all the time."

ouch.

To gain composure is to go through a weaning process...

Most of the noise in our souls is generated by our attempts to control the uncontrollable...
From your daily bread to your abilities and opportunites, these are gifts from God that you don't control...
How different things are when you pursue what you are called to pursue! You've discovered what you were made for. You have composure.

So.

How do you gain composure and quiet yourself? How do you make Psalm 131 your own?

1. Identify the "ladders" that pride erects, the ones that go nowhere:
Ladders of:
achievement
acquisition
appetite
avoidance
Prideful hearts and haughty eyes get to work when the ladders are climbed, even just a few rungs:
"They promise to take you someplace, but they collapse beneath the weight of your life."

2. Come to know Jesus.
He is the iconoclast, the ladder-toppler, the idol-breaker, the lie-piercer, the pride-smasher. He gives life, makes peace, gives joy, and makes you over.

"Seek Jesus, carrying your sin in your hands."

"Psalm 131 is HIS consciousness - a communicable attribute: quieted but not placid; composed but not detached. The principle is one of self-renewal: the demolition of pride, the creation of peace...

The soul-storms meet their Master: 'Be quiet. Be still.'
What is this? He commands the demons and they obey Him! Who is this, that even the wind and sea obey Him?'"
(see Mark 1:25-27, 4:39-41)

"O Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with Him is plentiful redemption."
Psalm 130:7

"O Israel, hope in the Lord,
from this time forth and forever."
Psalm 131:3

Spring Enrichment

2010-04-19T00:10:00.004-04:00

This weekend was our church's annual "Spring Enrichment Conference," and our guest speaker was pastor Steve Lawson of Christ Fellowship Baptist in Mobile, Alabama. I am including a link to his church's website, because there are several videos over there to watch that would be WELL worth your time, if and when you find yourself in a dry spot. Some are sermons, and some are pieces of sermons. Christ Fellowship is a Reformed Baptist Church (we are PCA, btw). The messages that were brought to us this weekend were full of grace and truth, very gospel and Christ-centered. It was nourishing and refreshing, as it always is when Christ is presented rightly from the Scriptures.

All weekend long, we studied "The Good Shepherd." Friday night's lesson was on Leadership, with Christ as our example. I thought I'd share the 5 points Pastor Lawson made, because I found myself thinking in terms of motherhood (and in my case, even my place as a teacher), and how we are shepherding some little souls, too, in a sense. See if these 5 points make you feel like I did - a little more inspired to be a good shepherd to this tiny flock here. And if you're a sheep and not a shepherd at the moment, see if this doesn't inspire you to follow more closely and be more grateful for your "lines that have fallen in pleasant places." I find myself to be mostly a sheep - but in a small way here at home, I also have a very small "undershepherd" role, for which I'm grateful.

First of all, a definition: "Leadership" is most simply described as "someone who exerts influence." It is more than just "telling people what to do." It is a lifestyle by which needs are wisely determined, and then effectively communicated in a variety of ways, through relationships.

1. Submission
"It is no longer I who live," Paul said. An effective spiritual leader first of all has a relationship with Christ Jesus. When a leader is submitting to Christ, they can then rightfully EXPECT others to follow them. When we are sitting at the feet of Christ, we are empty of self, and therefore free to say with Paul: "What you have learned and received and heard and seen in me—practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you." Phil. 4:9 A good undershepherd is not out to "fleece the sheep" for his own gain. A good undershepherd LOVES the sheep, and is passing along what was given to him... what he/she learned, received, heard, and saw. This is a sacrifice, the essence of true humility.

2. Vision
Vision is not a mystical image of something futuristic coming to pass. It is simply "insight into the will and wisdom of God." It requires an understanding of WHAT the Word of God says, and HOW this must come to bear upon the lives of the flock (which requires a relationship with the flock as well). Good "undershepherds" use the Word of God as "lamp for the feet, and a light for the path," in order to show the way that the flock must go.

(the Good Shepherd LEADS out His flock... He never DRIVES them. And a good undershepherd is not above his Master.)

To communicate vision to the flock, conversation must be FRAMED with and by the Word of God at all times.

3. Action
Good leaders (shepherds) are decisive people who DO something. They are always pointing to Jesus with their lives, words, and actions. The flock is made by God with a need to FOLLOW. If there is no action to follow, there will be disarray. (is there disarray? a good question to ask is "what does God want me to DO?" and then... DO IT. Martin Luther said, "sin, and sin boldly..." in response to Melancthon's wavering. Perhaps a better word to consider using there might be "err, and err boldly..." Sometimes we have to commit fully to the best decision we can make, given the best information available at the time. Satan can have us doubting ourselves till the wolves eat the entire flock. What we have to KNOW is that the grace of God is trustworthy, and He will not allow us to "accidentally" send our flocks to destruction!)

4. Passion
Enthusiasm is contagious; deep conviction influences. Good undershepherds are zealous and intent... they recognize urgency in words like these: "Now is the time..."
"Today is the day..."
and "One thing I do..."
Their passion keeps the flock's momentum steadily moving forward to "green pastures" and "still waters." The ability of the leader to recognize danger, and his willingness to protect the flock from what he determines to be a threat is key to the well-being of the entire flock.

5. Determination
A good leader is determined to stay the course... he/she is tenacious (I love that word!), resilient, and built with "staying power." They are running a race that requires a "long obedience in the same direction." They are resolved to finish that race well and hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

Pastor Lawson was intent and focused when he told us this in no uncertain terms:

"If you ARE pleasing God, it doesn't matter who you are NOT pleasing.
But if you are NOT pleasing God, it - doesn't - matter - who - you - ARE - pleasing."
You could hear a pin drop when he said those words... and I know that for myself, I'm more than ever convinced that despite my sin and my failure every day, I'm in this for the long haul. My goals are long ones, and my prayer is summarized in this song:

"I want to leave a legacy,
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to you enough to make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering...
Child of mercy and grace,
who blessed Your name, unapologetically...
I want to leave a legacy."
Nicole Nordeman

You have to touch a rough stone maybe a million times before it smooths out and leaves the mark of that one finger. Nobody said it was convenient or easy or quickly done. Influence is never over - the job of influencing is never accomplished fully, even at death. I used to think when the kids were 18, I could breathe a sigh of relief, but now more than ever I realize I'll never be done.

So - where's my walking stick? Where's my flock? We've got some ground to cover before darkness falls...

I hope each of you also had a blessed Lord's Day, wherever you worshipped. May God bless the reading of His Word to each of us, and open it into our weeks like the loaves and the fish. He knows what we need, and when, and how much. He's a Good Shepherd that way.

Sshhhh...

2010-04-16T23:30:00.003-04:00

Jack is sick... again.

We had this long, long run of blessed wellness at our house, (for what, 2 years? minus one issue with Courtney last Christmas...) and then suddenly this winter illness blew in the front door and has outstayed its welcome. First Jack had some sort of flu, and then I got it... then the girls got colds, and then I got them, too...

Everyone has been well for about 10 days.

Then Jack woke up at 3 am this morning with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, which slowly devolved under my suspicious eyes into body aches and a 102 degree fever by nightfall. When he is feverish he is so pitiful - such the antithesis of himself - that it's simply SAD to see. He sleeps when he's usually bouncing off of walls, is amenable to anything you say, is restless with headache and body aches, and when he DOES sleep he has nightmares. All I can say is: thank goodness for DV-R and Scooby Doo. :)

His illness is coinciding with a church conference that I've been looking forward to. I was able to attend tonight (it was during that twilight of time when I wasn't sure: is he coming down with something or is he just really tired from lack of sleep?), and my pastor greeted me with, "Hey! I haven't see you around here in awhile!" To which my husband replied, "That is because someone is always SICK at our house lately." I realized he's right - and I am starting to feel disconnected, the way I used to when the kids were little and someone's nose was always running. I remember those months when it would be one week at church, two at home.

We haven't lived that scenario out in quite awhile, but here we go again...

Summer is coming, though. And chlorine is good for killing germs. :)

When the Light that is in You is Darkness...

2010-04-15T06:39:00.000-04:00

There is a darkness which comes from excess of light, and then is the time to listen.
Oswald Chambers

"Behold, I go forward, but he is not there,
and backward, but I do not perceive Him;
on the left hand when he is working, I do not behold Him;
he turns to the right hand, but I do not see Him.

But He knows the way that I take...

God has made my heart faint;
the Almighty has terrified me;
yet I am not silenced because of the darkness,
nor because thick darkness covers my face...

And now no one looks on the light
when it is bright in the skies,
when the wind has passed and cleared them.
Out of the north comes golden splendor;
God is clothed with awesome majesty.
The Almighty - we cannot find him;
He is great in power;
justice and abundant righteousness He will not violate."
Job

Yet he is actually not far from each one of us,
for in him we live and move and have our being...
Acts 17:27