A Short

"Maybe you need someone cynical, a woman who postures herself in a mix of hopefulness and hatred of the world." She thought of telling him, but regularly held her tongue allowing the words to sway back and forth on her brow. What did she know anyway? Closing her eyes, she imagined it though. The two of them together. The brilliant woman so wounded, finding strength in words and tightly laughing when she encountered those beneath her. And him, unaware, disciplined, engaging everyone he met with his warmth and ideas. What did she have to offer him anyway? The other woman was mysterious, withdrawn, confident. Comparatively, she felt like a school girl.

Sitting up, she forced her eyes open. She could write a book with all of the scenarios she dreamed up behind closed lids. She sighed and looked out the window. Sun. Again. Couldn't the weather cooperate long enough to coordinate with her mood? Her insides longed for grey, overcast skies. She considered the idea again. What if she actually uttered those words? Maybe he'd leave her. Maybe he'd stay. She was a tornado of complete hope and utter despair, but cynical she was not.

The bell rang, pulling her from the sudden stupor. Throwing on the over-sized robe, she rubbed her face, sighed again and headed for the door. Opening it, she saw no one -- though a freshly placed cardboard box blocked the stairs. It was large and fairly cumbersome. She crossed over it to pick it up from below. Now especially conscience of her appearance and the possibility of being seen by a neighbor, she awkwardly lifted the not-so-heavy box and quickly headed inside.

Managing to lift it onto the bar in the kitchen, she stared at it. Her name and address were listed in the "To" area, but curiously, her name and address were also listed in the "From" section. She had no memory of sending herself a package. Certainly she had not been thriving recently, but there's no way she would forget a detail like that.

Cautiously, she maneuvered a kitchen knife along the taped edges of the box. Pink packing peanuts spilled out onto the floor as she lifted the lid. Her hands swam through a sea of them, finally resting on a solid object. Pulling out a large paper-covered oval, she laid it aside digging through the peanuts once again. This time, she found a large manilla envelope and set it on the counter-top as well. Nothing remained in the box now.

Eagerly, she turned her attention first to the object. Unwrapping it, she discovered a mirror. Etched along the top edge was one simple word: Enough. Puzzled, she glanced at herself in it. The word rested above her sad face. She stared at herself now. Tears pricked from behind her lashes as she continued to glance from the word to her face. She noticed her emotions rising. Fearing they'd overtake her, she set the mirror down, reaching for the envelope. From inside, she pulled out a single sheet of crisp white paper. The hand-written message simply offered:

You are enough.
Look often.
Remember.

Now the tears came freely. In her over-sized robe, she crumpled to the floor. She was overcome.

Leading Well

Shifting gears a bit tonight... I'm taking a few days out of my 'regularly scheduled' life to participate in a conference. It's the first event I've been to in almost two years--hard to believe! My old life kept me in conference mode on a frequent basis. At any rate, I spent six hours in a room with mostly strangers. We jumped from a dialogue about change to conflict resolution to gossip and more. And I'm sitting here now with my head spinning...

It's amazing how difficult it is to lead and how simple it is all at once. The things we worked through in six hours tackle the root issue of so many experiences I've had this past year in the church planting arena. I can't wait to see what's in store for tomorrow. There were two things that stood out above all else today...

One

"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together." 
--African Proverb

It's so easy to want to go alone. We see where we're going and can strike out, unhindered, on what seems a very clear path. Trouble is, there isn't anyone there to really enjoy the journey. At some point, even if other people follow after us, we'll likely want to keep moving and they might not be able or ready to do so... What then? Do we keep splitting? Do we keep leaving people behind because we want to get where we're going fast?

Two

Gossip: When someone says something negative about someone who is not part of the problem or part of the solution.

Gut buster! I mean, seriously... When I consider these months and months in my new world, how many conversations have I been a part of or even instigated (gasp!) where GOSSIP was the main course on the menu?! What if we all made a personal rule not to do it? Not to hear it?

When someone comes to us, what if we did what I learned tonight...
Ask:
Are you coming to me to gossip?
Are you coming to me for counsel?

If it's the latter, he told us how he literally gives the person a deadline by which they need to go talk to the person in question OR he tells them that if they don't do so within that time frame, he'll reach out to that person to help in the reconciliation process. What in the world? So simple. SO hard. So, so good.

Imagine the change though... Actually dealing with our issues. Being honest and vulnerable. Inviting others to do the same. Beautiful.

More soon. We're starting at 8 AM sharp so this girl has to get some beauty sleep...

Him

He made an astute observation, "The Gospel is so incredibly dear to you because of what you've experienced in your life..." Perhaps for the first time, I saw it, too. A million thoughts entered my mind all at once and I teared. "I don't know if I've ever seen it that way, " I responded (at least in my head--I don't know if the words actually came out).

Thinking about it later, the reality sunk in more deeply. The Father's love for me has changed everything. He is the only One who has fully understood, walked with me in every aspect of my life and poured out love in a way I haven't been able to experience and receive from other people. The Gospel is precious to me because He is precious to me.

How did He become precious? Through years and years of disappointments. Through wounds. Through unmet longings and postponed desires. The junk of life has illuminated the treasure of the cross, the beauty of His sacrificial love, the wonder of His goodness and faithfulness to me.

He has never abandoned me. He has never belittled me. He has never ignored me. He has never forgotten me. He has always given me dignity. He has always loved me. He has always cheered me on. He has always forgiven me. He has always told me the truth--and put my shame away from me. He has been merciful. He has been kind. He has been beyond generous. He has never failed.

Sitting quietly at the desk, I turned from the computer screen to witness the morning through the windows. I listened to a song I posted here months ago (Beautiful, by Phil Wickham). He sings, "When we arrive at Eternity's shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we'll sing... You're beautiful." Before I knew it, tears fell. I sat here thinking, "And isn't that JUST it..." Hope. All of this leads me into the beauty of who He is. I get to rest there for eternity--in perfect relationship. Living IN the fullness of the promise. Really, truly, completely ALIVE.

This Kingdom, this Gospel is precious because He is precious. I can lay everything down if it means I get Him. And, if the longings in my heart don't ever come to pass in the way I hoped, I still don't lose. I consider it a bargain. I've gotten the best part.

There

It towers in the distance
once I belonged to it
now a simple, striking monument
warm with white
reflecting sun and moon
whispering of days gone by
stirring my vision onward

Grounded atop old marsh fields
it sits patiently there for me now
a poignant placard encased in beauty
above, the sky proclaims, "Bigger"
in soft, bold characters
tender with confidence

I hardly notice in daylight
flying by into this or that
the stars shine and the moon rises
lights glisten in the distance
I see it then
standing in a brood delightful
my eyes shift from here to there

There my calling beckons
Here I lose my sight
"Lift your eyes; yes, remember..."
Look upon it, see
A promise, privilege, gift

It slumbers while I dream awake
my emotions fill the vast expanse of sky
one by one, I tuck each consideration away
pondering Glory in my heart
holding this memory stone in my gaze.

Rejoice

The sky is grey and the rain has come today with more consistency. A tropical storm makes its way along the landscape of Florida and we're better for it. People tell me we need it. I don't understand this completely. Growing up in Colorado, you knew when you needed the rain. The earth cracked and wildfires charred fields and mountains. Here, everything looks lush, thriving and green. But the reservoirs of water in retention ponds diminish--apparently this is a 'tell'. How appropriate a picture. Things on the outside don't always reflect the need. Inside, we might diminish while outwardly, to the untrained eye, all appears well.

I'm seeking to live my life in a way where what's going on inside shows on the outside. There's a beauty in not being able to hide the drought, the need. A few weeks ago a man spoke a word over me, "Don't mistake the wilderness for anything else..." This wilderness season has been harsh. I've been unable to avoid the heat of the sun and the cracks seem the most prominent feature on the soil of my heart. My margin for any additional challenge or input is pencil-line thin. I've been exposed time and again. Tears have been close companions.

But today, as I witness the torrents of water falling from the vast expanse of grey sky, I picture all of this water running over and filling these gaps. I understand the way my soul is soaking up every ounce and I feel hope rise--the word "rejoice" takes position over me like a banner. I think it's an invitation. Sweet, cleansing rain. Wash away these months of pain. Remind my soul of what it's gained. Intimacy with my Savior.

"You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good." Genesis 50:20

Returning to the Wilderness (AKA Summer Home)

Walking up the sidewalk yesterday, I pulled my keys out then tried to wrestle the door open while realizing it was locked at the top, too. Standing on my tippy-toes I reached high inserting the key, but couldn't manage to unbolt it. Meanwhile, two very happy faces appeared between the blinds on the door-glass and me. Upon opening it (thanks to their dad), they rushed at me--hugging me and telling me they missed me. Pure delight. I had been in the city all week, so I hugged them back, "I missed you, too!..." I looked both of them in the eye as I spoke and meant it.

The little one ambled towards me as I hugged the others in the foyer and stood there smiling, holding her beloved puppy. She waved at me, tilted her head and smiled again. They came to the car to help me bring in my things and just before bedtime, each grabbed a bag and helped me carry everything upstairs. (Well, except the one who remembered she was upset about something. Oh kids--being so present in their emotional lives. :) )

And as their mom read the older two stories, the little one decides to run back and forth upstairs peering down at me through the railing. "What are you doing?" she asks her favorite question. "Reading... What are you doing?" She smiles without answering and runs down the hallway again. This same exchange occurs another fifteen million times. At one point she sits down and puts both legs through two slats in the railing and waves at me. Then she returns to her work--running from one end of the hall to the next, always checking in on her sisters.

Finished looking at stuff online, I head to the kitchen sink to do a few dishes. Little one returns to the rail above and calls out, "Jesh...!" I turn my attention to her and she smiles, "I wuve you!"
Be.still.my.heart.
I almost cried it was so sweet.
"I love you, too," I replied.
We both smiled at the other and she was off on her way again.

Later, I told her mom about it. We talked about how I think part of the reason I experienced loneliness so strongly this past week is because I've been with their family this past month. I've been in an environment where people wonder where I am when I'm not home and ask me how my day is. They care about the things I'm walking through and have been supportive of me in the midst of a whole lot of hardship. The girls are happy to see me for no apparent reason beyond the fact that they like having me around. This place and these people have become a haven for me.

The contrast was stark this week. And, for better or worse (I actually think better), I get to see what I really need and want because of my time with them. Being part of something here makes me realize how I don't really feel part of something out "there". It has provided a place for my heart to recognize what matters. I get to press in and ask Jesus how He wants to provide for me specifically in this way and invite Him to touch these places that feel so tired, so needy. I think that's really good.