Lessons from "Be Present"

Tonight, in the midst of an acting exercise I saw a truth about my life with fresh eyes. The guy in front of me was portraying an action; I didn't know what it was, but my responsibility was to engage with him in it. He was postured toward me with indifference. He held a folder in his hands and whatever was on it was more interesting than what I had to say to him. He didn't care. In my approach, I began to tell him a story. He looked up, obviously annoyed and returned his gaze to the folder. I tried again, this time moving closer. I even shifted lower and tried to meet his gaze from the level of the folder. He wouldn't give.

In the background, our instructor/coach was now giving me directives: "The news you have for him is life and death... Convince him to listen!!" A little frustrated, I took a second with the advice and got back in my scene partners face. This time, I ripped the folder from his hand and threw it to the ground. Still no response, no engagement. My coach continued, "It's life and DEATH!!!" I broke focus and turned my attention to him now. "It's hard to do this when you're telling me what to do!" And I was done.

Later, as we debriefed the time, I felt disconnected. I was still thinking about the interaction from earlier. I decided to share about the frustration I experienced toward our facilitator when he started directing me in the exercise. "Honestly, I felt angry at you. I tried what I could with John, but he wouldn't have it. I guess I realized it's how I operate in my life... If someone ignores me like that, I give up. I want to get out of there..." He responded to this by adding a few things including, "A scene is boring if you're neutral. It would have been great for you to just leave then. Require your scene partner to have to figure out what to do next..."

Yet another guy in the room spoke up at this point, "I see what you're saying there, but Jessica is a pacifist-type of person. I don't see her leaving dramatically like that..." And I nodded. It's so true. But, what I realized in the midst of all of it is that I really don't fight for myself. This is a larger theme I'm seeing in my life right now especially when it comes to relationships. I often take what's issued to me and after giving it my best shot, I sort of slink away when the person isn't responding to me. I feel sad as I see and consider it, actually. I allow rejection to rule.

Though, one encouragement came in the process, too... I surprised myself by actually throwing the folder to the ground tonight... That's not like me. I think there was growth there--it didn't seem good enough for our coach though. He wanted more from me.

I wonder if I should expect it from myself...
I wonder what it would look like if I actually did.

Seen

I walked into a coffee shop I love this morning and was quickly (and rather loudly) greeted by a couple of smiling guys I'm getting to know. They were spending some time together with two others (strangers to me), but for 50 seconds, all four pairs of eyes were on me. I felt a little sheepish, actually. I may have blushed. Their greeting felt like celebration... I was there and they were glad. I felt surprised by it.

Sometimes, even when I'm with my closest friends, I can feel invisible or boring. Perhaps other people feel that way, too? Maybe we forget to notice each other, practice curiosity by asking our friends about themselves or sometimes we might see something in our friend we don't understand so it's hard to move toward them. This past year, I've really begun to desire to become a person who notices and also a person of invitation, I see how focusing on myself, genuinely lacking interest in those around me (sad to say, but true) or fear of not knowing what to do keeps me from people. But this morning, I was reminded again of how good it feels to be noticed. To been seen. To be wanted.

I hope to reach out to others in like-kind. I hope they feel noticed, seen and wanted by me. The heart of the Father intersects life in these relational moments. He reminds us that we belong... In fact, we belong to Him. Amazing.

So I'm thankful for those guys today. I'm grateful to have been seen and even delighted in. What a gift.

Texas Forever

The view from my perch today in Austin. Any guesses? Hint: it's one of my favorite places on planet earth...

I'm thankful to be back in this quaint city filled with music and down-to-earth people. The Lord has smiled on my friend and me, providing the sweetest gifts in the last 24 hours. Just little things... an inexpensive hotel with free breakfast, free dinner last night because they felt it took too long to get our orders out to us, a nearby donut shop when we arrived at her workshop too early this morning and needed to kill some time. We both love the occasional donut.

The Lord has been speaking to me about having eyes to see these little expressions of His love for me this past week. I'm thankful to step into moments here with awareness in the form of thankful lenses to see how He lavishly meets me and provides for me. Experiencing Him in this way also frees me up to consider those around me... How can I be a blessing to them? What good works has He prepared in advance for me to walk in today?

And, on this Monday morning, He has also given me TIME. Time to write! I'm working on a chapter for the book and I received such helpful feedback over the weekend from a group of writers I'm getting to know. I'm anxious to dig in today and see how He leads me forward.

Cheers for a wonderful day ahead...

Unfettered

I feel these chains loosening their grip on me
freedom is coming, one I've only hoped to see
Life in technicolor chases after me

Standing here, I watch it--
  as it races past
painting ahead a path so bright
all the dark returns to light

I begin to wonder, is it really true?
Could this be the life He's actually called me to?

Suddenly in motion
I set out toward the road
the pesky bonds tighten fast
they don't want to let me go

Looking down at my chains
I consider them again
I'm tired of their stories
they're no longer solacing friends

(I see them as they really are
their heartless nature intent to scar)

The path is there, a step away
my bonds won't break
they're determined to stay

Mustering all my courage I advance 
my toe barely skims the lane
in that moment, a blink of the eye
these shackles, they fall away

And I'm standing here unfettered, stunned
the chains, they're on the ground
wrists and ankles breathing, free
then there You are...
You're here with me?!!!

You hold my hands in Your palms
and kneel, examining my feet
where those bonds pressed in
where they marred my skin
You anoint each line, restoring me

As You stand, I hear a song
I don't quite know the tune
You begin to sing it over me
I long to join in with You

You smile at me and grab my hand
ushering me along
there's more to discover
there's vibrant, technicolored Life to live
and as I'm freshly unhindered,
we journey on.

No Trespassing

A picture that explains a reality. How many times a day do I encounter this sign? I hit a road block and wonder what lies beyond it. Something sacred. A hidden place. But a like-minded statement says, "Don't trespass--you're not welcome here."

Funny enough, I imagine that I'm the person who runs into this boundary most often. It is definitely useful to keep others at bay, but I keep myself out, too. I live behind the rules--I'm good at abiding by them. I feel responsible to steward myself sensibly along their focused path. I regularly reestablish boundaries to protect myself. Some are healthy; some are not. They help me know where I am, what I should do, how I should behave. At times, I think I forget who I am as I try to live them so well. And, I let them define me. I let them limit me.

I picture the Lord approaching this boundary. I usually ask him to stop here, as well.

"Stand over there... I don't know what you'll do if you come in here. Safer to leave things the way they are," I say.

But I don't really mean it. And the thing is, I think He wants me to be free, but I keep going back to these standards that appeared along this path somehow. As if they would rescue me and show me how to live. As if...

It's Not Greener: It's Different

And there are days
when I want the other life
filled with scribbles
and inconsolable crying
smiles
melt-downs
new discoveries

the one where all I want is
for him to come home
so I can leave the house
because I'm pulling my hair out
longing desperately for
everything grown-up
an airplane
space
freedom

seasons when we're fighting
ensuing moments when I wonder why
I married him
said yes to this life
chose it
in the first place

years passing by when I marvel
where did it all go?
how did I get so lucky?
look at all of these gifts!

the ending of a day with us
our life
lived out in the good, bad, mundane

It sounds so good today
All of it.

Like a Bird: Free

Look at these birds I was able to capture on my phone last night... Clumped together they stood on the edge of space between sea and sand, and watched the tide as it went out and came back in. Then they flew. Sunset on New Year's Eve 2012. They were a sight to behold. And a beautiful reminder, as well.

God has faithfully provided for me all of my life. His love is unending. Like the ocean, His love is vast and immense. And these birds, they don't wonder where provision comes from because He is the good and faithful Provider. He meets their needs.

I took a walk away from the bonfire, in the opposite direction of my friends last night. Having set two hours before, the sun slept while the moon shone brightly lighting the way ahead of me. My toes dipped in and out of the Atlantic as I strolled and I couldn't think of the words to express what I was feeling, so He gave me a song. And I just sang to Him. It was a sweet, holy moment all alone there facing the ocean, taking in the sky and remembering His goodness to me.

When I consider the valleys of my heart--those places He's currently pressing into that feel so tender and broken--I feel gratitude toward Him. He knows. He sees. He understands. He spoke kindly to me on the eve of this New Year encouraging me to comprehend that it's my freedom that He's after. He will not falter or fail me as He pursues me and fights for me. I'm the one who resists Him; I'm the one who often wants to give up.

Taking advantage of the time with Him, I prayed for the things I haven't wanted to pray. The painful prayers I've allowed to fall to the wayside because I haven't understood why He'd ask me to want those things in the first place. It was a risk. I felt exposed.

I suppose that's what is important as I've greeted 2013 though. If I don't choose to step into what is hard, vulnerable, honest, true... What then? What becomes of my freedom?

Enveloping Me in LOVE

It's unexplainable
real-er than anything I can see, taste, touch
more true than the friend who was just standing there...
   in the cold of the night 
   twenty-six inches from my face
a complete reality upon which I long to gaze
but through the veil for this season is enough

You offer dignity to me in it
belonging
wholeness
worth

Beauty radiates as I step into it
like a Rocky Mountain sunset
like insatiable laughter
like a mother after she's given birth

And I feel that beauty
as if it has been mine all along
it sweeps over me
pours into me
overflows from the inmost part of me

I belong to it and it to me
we were separated, that beauty and me
there was darkness, unkindness, incoherent deceit
lies took root, I didn't know what to believe

Yet now I smile at my sadness
I still don't comprehend where this road goes
but You hold my hand and walk me toward life
You lead me along a sturdy pathway
enveloping me, all the while, in LOVE.

Pursuing & Holding Fast to Truth

It's the middle of the night. I woke up out of pretty intense dreams, receiving clarity on a piece of something I've chosen to walk into very intentionally recently. As I considered it, I was bombarded with a slew of other thoughts. I feel a little taken back by the way the lies are coming at me as I'm pursuing the truth. Though, I shouldn't be surprised...

The fiery darts are being thrown in quick succession; I feel tired. I wonder how to shield myself from the attack while continuing to walk in what is true. This was one of the thoughts that came as I surfaced to awareness from my last dream:

"You already know this stuff about yourself... There is nothing anyone can do to help you out of it. You already know it..."

And another:

"This stuff has become part of who you are... It's too entrenched to be removed."

Even in my sleepiness, there's something I understand and I want to state it clearly: I disagree with these statements offered to me as if they're 1) my own thoughts 2) true! I refuse to believe and walk in them. Jesus has purchased my freedom and already knows the road out from here. I'm so thankful for THAT truth.

Leaning in; pressing on.
 

Goodbyes

I got on an airplane. It was rather unexpected as the call came only days earlier, "We're going... Can you come?" My mom and I have talked for just about a year about that day in the future when she would travel to close my grandparents house out; I missed his funeral last year. Tickets were outrageously expensive and I just couldn't make it. But, the call came last week. I wondered, "Is it worth it?"

I knew it was, but money and time barriers briefly blocked my vision. Logging onto my favorite airline's website, I saw a ticket for a little over $400. To be honest, this was surprising. Not to say the money is easily found or spent, but the ticket was a very "normal" price and not out of reach. I sat on the decision for a day.

Booking it made me a little nervous--I felt tension about stewardship and fear regarding finances--but I did it. The comfort I carried was the opportunity to cancel the ticket within 24 hours without penalty. I set an alarm on my phone to remind me that I could.

Sitting in a coffee shop later that day, I ran into a friend I'd shared all of this with the day before. She offered wisdom, "You will never be able to get this opportunity back; once it's gone, it's gone," she said. That was all true. What is money, after all? Would God fail to provide for me?

The next day, my cancellation alarm sounded. Momentarily I considered it, but just as quickly turned it off and took a deep breath. I relaxed into trust.

So I got on an airplane. I'd fly into the evening, spend the whole next day on the ground and at 4:00 AM the day after that day, I'd head to the airport to fly back. I felt crazy, but thankful. I was going. I was given the privilege of saying goodbye in person and I was stepping into it.

Pulling up to the house, I was curious how I'd feel walking in. The last time I was here, the house felt empty without her. We filled it--my mom and dad, brother and sister, our extended family--to the brim. Now they were both gone; the house filled with memories and quiet and some of their things. There's something so strange about walking into a place where so much life has been lived and realizing those lives have left us behind.

The Russian neighbors and the Estonian house-caretaker questioned my age, my weight and wondered very directly and to my face in Russian and in English as to the reason for my singleness. I ate borsch and heard this phrase repeatedly, "Eat!... Eat!" The caretaker of the house told me to return and stay with her so she could take me to church. (There's an enormous Protestant Russian church around the corner.) In light of our previous dialogue about marriage, I asked, "So you can introduce me?" "No," she replied, "I don't need to introduce you... They will FIND you..." She said it all with a smile and a gleam in her eye.

Oh, I love my heritage. Those moments were so precious to me because it reminded me that some things don't change. I receive it in the best sense here. The absolute best.

And we cleared out so many things in that house. Junk and trinkets and belongings that reminded us of them. We went through books in his study and I grabbed a few and made them my own. We went to their graves. Taking purple flowers that were growing over the fence at the house, we placed them there. I plucked up stray blades of grass that were interfering with my ability to see their names with clarity. I remembered that while their bodies are buried there, they are experiencing so much life. I cannot begin to imagine what abundance they've stepped into in the presence of Jesus. They're there together--for almost a year now, in fact. Amazing.

Early the next morning, I walked out, taking one last look at his bedroom where I slept. Out the front door, down the stairs and up the path to the gate; I felt foggy with sleepiness, but tried to smell the trees and flowers as I passed them. Closing the gate, I looked back at the house in the dark. I smiled at it and soaked in the memory of them and the lives they lived in that sweet home.

I'm thankful I get to see them again someday and grateful because these goodbyes are only temporary. Boarding the plane, I came home. My roommate brought me flowers. I put the books on a shelf in my room. It's nice to have a piece of them with me.

I made a wise decision getting on that airplane.

A Place of Tenderness

Tonight I sat quietly during our church gathering asking the Lord to speak. He gave me three words, two were accompanied by pictures. They have to do with this place of tenderness I've been walking in (and as it seems to go, a friend came to find me so she could pray for me--sensing she was supposed to-- this occurred a short while after I heard these words from the Lord and "tenderness" was the vocabulary He gave her for me). I decided to come home instead of heading out with people tonight and on the drive, I mulled over those words again and I cried.

I don't understand why God wants to make promises to me--one of the things He said was something I've known, the other two things were new. I feel like it's one thing to remind me of the old promise, but why add anything additional? I don't think my heart can process it, let alone handle the idea of those things actually being on His heart for me. They feel too delicate and sad, somehow.

I am past the point where I accused Him of cruelty and have reached the place of simply no longer understanding Him in it--and, I leave it there. I don't get it. It doesn't make any sense to me. I'm not mad at Him, I just feel sad because I really don't believe those things are possible for me anymore. And, it's a paradox because I believe Him for so many things. I believe Him for these enormous realities that I see Him accomplishing. I do not waver as I perceive His faithfulness in the big picture. Yet in this, I miss how these promises, fulfilled, even matter now.

How can I believe one without the other? I don't know, but I do. I think I've just reached the point in the grieving process where I just feel sad. There is no anger, no rage. There's no real hope for a different outcome--this piece of my heart feels dead--it's left me and I cannot do anything about it. It is beyond my control.

And I sit in tenderness, in sadness wondering about promises again tonight... I wish He would stop making them to me.

Life Since Then

Pulling off of the exit to that familiar beach
an old song piped through the radio
a memory lodged in the graveyard of my heart released
you played it for me on your birthday

And we were all in this spot, not long after that summer
a couple weeks from now, back then
I wore light khaki overalls (they were "in" at the time)
taking in the Pacific from this perch
a different boardwalk on another coast
reunited after two months apart

I had questions
I held sadness
I was grieving the end before the real beginning of the demise
but I smiled with the girls
for the cameras, for the sake of the memories we were making

Coincidence? I don't think so
that's typically not how it works
perhaps an Invitation to dig into that cavern again
to remember that we lost each other and my life since then

And it has been good--these days and years
my regrets have diminished considerably, considering
but I often wonder if I'll ever forget
what every piece of it meant to me

I recognized my fear
the frailty of my heart
not wanting it to be broken
I think I ran from the start

Perhaps there are no words to offer once again
it was another life, or it could have been
so I went to the beach and sat in the sun
I watched the gulls play, putting the thoughts far away
There are other things on my mind, after all

And closing my eyes, I listened as waves kissed mercilessly the shore
Trying to be present, wanting desperately to embrace the gift of it
but the recollections continued to sound in my ears
many a word I offered and those I wish I'd shouted
somehow lacking the courage or the understanding to know they were needed
I still carry all of them with me

Though I wanted to relinquish them
to the waves and the sun
back to that boardwalk on another coast
returning them to you, so they would leave me
and perhaps some of them did
I really don't know...
Though, I'd like to think so.

ABIDE

As things with the Lord and I go, today He calls me to abide. The pain of placing my hope in things that are not Him surfaces as I choose not to hope in those things any longer.

It feels like death.
Death of desire, death of promise, death of my heart.

Perhaps somewhere in there, God will bring life again. All I know is this... I cannot hope in anything that isn't Him anymore. It's too disappointing. My heart rises and falls by the expectation it has built around things that He has promised. I've focused far too heavily on the promise and not the One who has made those promises to me.

In a way, I don't doubt the promise. I do, however, doubt the form I imagined those promises taking. And so I give up on those pictures--those vain imaginations of what I think life should look like given what He has spoken over me. I wash my hands of those things with the tears that fall from my eyes.

I release.
I abide.

And for today, I feel a bit like a wheezy robot. The lump that rises in my throat as I think about this "letting go" and sticks there uncomfortably. I think it's grief. I think I've caused it for myself this time.

An Invitation to Hope (this is a hard one)

The Lord is asking me to hope again. Winding through Thornton Park today on those lovely red brick streets, I told Him I knew that's what He is inviting me into--hope--and I replied with tears in my eyes, "I don't know how to do that right now, Lord." What does it look like to allow Jesus to build hope into my heart again when my heart feels like a desolate wasteland?

Earlier, I was reading a book and one of the characters was saying of the other that her heart was like a wall--4 feet thick and not scalable through human effort. I stopped in that moment and asked the Lord, "Is that what my heart is like?" In the quiet, I heard, "Yes." The frustrating part of this particular story is that I feel that I've come so far towards hope, but recently I'm encountering a new and rather enormous wall. I wondered aloud to the Lord, "What would it look like for that to crumble?" and, "Why does it matter to You that it does?"

In this process, I know He has postured Himself with utter humility and patience. He's peeling the wounds and my reactions that stem from those caverns back layer by layer. I believe He sees something worth fighting for in this--I wish I could see what He does.

Here's the thing, I think He sees me. I think that's what He's trying to say to me. He sees me. That feels disconcerting. My experience has taught me that my hope is futile. God may have spoken things to me in the past and even affirmed those things through other people along the way, but the reality is, those things aren't real. At least they've yet to be seen. And well over a decade later, I wish He didn't speak them to me in the first place... It feels cruel.

But here He is reminding me of those things and I'm regularly shutting down when they're brought up. Just the other day that happened. My mom said something to me on the phone and I had to fight against hanging up on her. I didn't ask her to say what she said--we were talking about something far from this particular topic of tenderness and it was as if she dropped a verbal bomb; as it detonated in the inner part of me, a lump appeared in my throat and began to rise. I couldn't take in air--invisible sobs developed inside my chest, but I didn't cry. I stifled them away. Intently turning my focus to the  intricate patterns of texture on my ceiling, I didn't allow my eyes to close for fear that the tears really would come and I'd absolutely lose it.

I feel that now. This is so deep; it's so rooted inside of me. The lack of hope I experience is like bondage. I know that in His love, He's at work setting me free into hope, but I don't know if I'll ever make it there. When He tells me that hope doesn't disappoint because His love is poured out in my heart through the Spirit who was given to me, I see the depth of my lack. I know Him to be good, but not in this. I know Him to be faithful, but not in this. I know Him to be kind, but I miss His kindness in this. I know that He is trustworthy, but my trust disappears in this.

I feel like He's been playing a game with me. He's been asking me to actively live in light of directives He's given. I have. He has asked me to pray very specifically. I have, even to the point of pain. I know that's not true--He's not toying with me. But His way of doing things has felt like an adding of insult to injury. I wish I could see it through His eyes instead of these worn, used lenses. And so it's in these moments of invitation I muster my courage to pray, "Lord, lift my eyes," and remember that His mercies are new every day. 

It's not every day...

Rarely am I caught off guard these days by a man. To be honest, it has been a very hard year in that arena and I feel as though my expectation and certainly my hope has waned. I was just surprised by a total stranger tonight. Shocked, really.

My friend and I were enjoying a little sushi, having abandoned our plans for a lakeside picnic with others who were all busy. We watched a movie that neither of us enjoyed and redeemed that a bit by heading out for dinner at a spot we both love. Our conversation looped from desiring to see some individuals we know experience redemption, then turned a corner closer to home where we explored what redemption means in some present personal realities.

Early in our time there a guy walked by and as he did so, inquired as to the type of roll I ordered saying something about how amazing it looked. I confirmed that it was indeed fabulous and he kept walking toward the door. We turned our attention back to the story at hand forgetting the interruption, delving once again into her story and process.

She and I reached a point in our dialogue where we were talking about what it means to walk in the truth and recognize that living in it fully can take time. At that point, the same guy came up to our booth, leaned on its side and wanted to know if we would mind him posing a question. He was perfectly charming and warm.

Smiling, he made a statement about grace then asked, "Do you believe the Holy Spirit convicts us of sin?"
"Yes," I replied.
"You do?"
"Yes, I do."
"Do you know that no where in the Bible does it talk about the Spirit convicting us of sin... It says that the Spirit convicts the world of sin..." then I joined him, "...of righteousness and of judgement" we finished; we were both smiling and I was nodding my head.

He went on to share more on what he had learned about grace, the meaning of repentance and what is required of us when it comes to forgiveness. Our dialogue lasted a whole three minutes maximum (and included me quoting more Scripture alongside him), but I was super impressed with this guy. He was so kind and interesting. I loved that he wasn't afraid to approach a couple of strangers and add to our dialogue. What he offered was such a blessing to my friend in that moment and many of the things he said have kept me thinking since I left the restaurant.

As we wrapped our brief conversation, he began to walk away and I noticed a take-out box in his hand.

"Did you get the volcano roll?" I asked.
"I got everything..." he said, smiling.

I had a fleeting thought of asking his name, but chickened out. He walked out the door and I just sat there with the stupidest look on my face--I couldn't stop smiling. My friend quickly said, "Go get his number!" I couldn't make myself...

Thinking of it now, I wish I would have asked for his name. It's not everyday that you meet a handsome, charming, warm, engaging guy who obviously loves Jesus and is willing to come over and start a somewhat deep conversation with the lightest air to it with you. I kept telling my friend that he reminded me of someone famous... Yep, Gerard Butler. Google the name for a pic. That's the guy I met tonight--at least the local, Jesus-loving version of him.

Walking to our cars, we realized that we had no idea where he came from after he walked to the door initially--it seemed like he reappeared out of thin air. Puzzled, we decided he may have been an angel. Our Gerard Butler angel.

My friend is officially praying that I run into him again. I don't think I'd mind it if that happened...