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...

Dear Church, Please Rise

Another massacre in Colorado and my heart sits heavy thinking about history and evil and the true Enemy. I had many thoughts today about what took place in Aurora last night, but one made me pause and I needed to write about it. I was thinking, "Jesus come back!" I want Him to do something about this tragedy and this evil and this pain.

That thought quickly diminished as another surfaced... Church, let's rise up! The very Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives inside of each of us who have chosen to follow Him. That very Spirit enables us to bring peace, power, love and more to circumstances like this and not only that, but to the world as a whole. To all of the brokenness, evil, pain... By His stripes we are healed! He came to set the captives free! He's about binding up the brokenhearted. And there are many of those today... In Aurora and throughout the globe.

The reality is, we need to get out of our pews and demonstrate this Good News of the Kingdom! More than ever before, we need to proclaim and show people what it means to walk with God and know Jesus. We need to get our hands dirty and walk in places where people wonder about our faith. We've stayed too tidy for too long, Church. We're trying to keep our noses clean instead of storming the gates of Hell--remember Jesus said, "The gates of Hell will not prevail" against His Church. Do we live like we're advancing on them, pushing them down, or do we live like we're the ones keeping Hell out of our neat little yards?

This guy that did this... He's practically a kid. He allowed himself to be a tool used by the evil one... I think the conversation will loudly turn toward debates about guns and at-risk-youth and things like that. But, there are deeper issues that must be addressed.

Sin. Our depravity and need for a Savior. The thing is, the Church gets this, right? But do we walk in light of the hope that is within us? Do we step outside of ourselves and live this Good News everyday of our lives and see Jesus shape and transform the things and people around us? Jesus, as one of my pastors reminded our church on Sunday, came to give life to dead people!! In our sin, we're dead. But God, who is rich in mercy loved us and sent His Son to pay the penalty for our sin! He made us alive...

I think the Lord was saying to me today, "Jessica, you do something..." He's already provided everything I need to step out. Am I willing? Are you?

What dreams has He given us for the people and places around us? It's time to start dreaming those dreams and calling what HE sees into existence! We need to tell the Enemy that we're not standing by waiting for Jesus to return to make this better--He already has made it better--He crushed the Enemy underfoot! And, Jesus will come and take His place as rightful King someday. I cannot wait!! It's time for the Church to step into that place of victory with the One who is called Faithful and True. It's time for us to take seriously the reality that He's entrusted the advancement of His Kingdom to us... His Spirit gives us the ability to walk in that truth today. What are we are doing about it?

I want Jesus to come back to a Bride that's ready for Him... Church, let's rise and show the world who He is, what He's done and what He is doing. Let's show them the truth of a Kingdom that's so real and so beyond anything we could ever imagine that this world absolutely pales in comparison. Because, it does. It doesn't come close. So, let's show the people around us this hope, freedom, healing, power and love. Let's move towards them and demonstrate this Kingdom to them.

Jesus, may we steward well all You've entrusted to us until that Great Day and all for Your glory. Amen.

Encouragement for the Journey

It was six o'clock and I was walking along Orange Avenue. Trying to determine some locations to send groups of people throughout our city for the evening, my mind was focused but I tried to make an effort to notice the people around me. It's funny how people don't say "Hi" to one another anymore...

When I lived in the Hub, I once complimented a girl on her outfit while I was out and about one day. She was absolutely taken back by the interaction--she looked shocked. I think she'd likely grown so used to ignoring others and being ignored that even a simple acknowledgement of her or her outfit was something beyond strange. It was a moment that stuck with me.

So I was strolling along at a good pace, taking in the line in front of The Social and how everyone's outfits looked the same. It was really humid this afternoon and I continued to think that jeans were a bad choice, but the mosquito bites covering my legs motivated me to throw on the skinny's as I headed out the door and into town. I continued south and walked by a man who was extremely drunk. He had black eyes and as he watched me, stumbled into a metal gate that was far away from his original path. His intense attention startled me and I quickened my steps.

I took a deep breath as I crossed over Washington Street and continued taking some notes on the little sheet of paper I was carrying. Coming towards me was an enormous man (like a football player enormous). As we arrived closer to one another, he slowed and said, "I'm so sorry... But, you're beautiful." I now was the one who was taken back. He was so kind and sincere. There was nothing creepy about the interaction. I blushed and said, "Thanks! Have a great day!" walking past him and turning towards him as I said it. He said, "I just did--you made it make great..." He said a few more things and I continued to blush and walk south on Orange.

I'll tell you what... That was sweet. And, I knew it wasn't really that guy. It was the Lord. I just sensed this quietness in the moment, like everything stopped and I was supposed to hear all of those things and just take them in. I was surprised by it all for sure. I smiled for a few blocks and I think I stood up a little taller. There's something about being seen and acknowledged. I was grateful for that stranger today and the ways that he blessed me through his sincerity.

And I just thought of the reality that each of those people that I passed--the intense drunk man, the people lined up for a show wearing the same outfits and everyone in between--they all have stories. They all need to be acknowledged and complimented and seen. I want to be the kind of person that moves outside of myself and takes risks loving them in the way I can--telling them what I see. More importantly, what He sees in them.

I am thankful for those moments today. The Lord affirmed me in a way that was so meaningful to me right now. (I didn't realize how much such a small thing would impact me.) He reminded me that I'm not invisible--neither are the people around me in this city. He loves.

The Root of It

This is the place of pain
the starting point where resentment builds
an angled edge where they tell me again,
"That wound over there,
it's deeper than yours...
that heart hurts more...
your ache is real,
but compared to that...
it's Nothing."

I've chosen this path in the past
it winds and turns
downward and onward it curves
as I slink along it
doing what I'm told
believing what I'm issued
all the while, shutting down
handling the pieces and rebuilding the wall

Because,
"That wound over there,
it's deeper than yours...
that heart hearts more...
your ache is real,
but compared to that...
it's Nothing."

People wonder why
I show of shame
when my tears arise and fall
I apologize
when I get too emotional
I run away
when I sense it all crashing down and all around...

I guess you could say it's because...
that wound over there,
it's deeper than mine
that heart hurts more
yes, my ache is real
but compared to that
I'm Nothing.

Is this Where Redemption is Found?

A few dear friends have been speaking important things into my life over the last few days. I have been experiencing my brokenness profoundly to the point of understanding that I've been running in circles for years and years wondering how I can doubt God's goodness. In many areas of my life I've come to know the truth that He is good; the lack of comprehension in another realm has left me undone over and over again. It is in this pain that I sit wishing and praying it away.

One friend offered that perhaps His "goodness" wasn't what was most critical--she said she sensed the issue arose from a place below it. Believing or having faith or telling myself that He is indeed good would not be the cure to this illness within me. She encouraged me to ask Him to show me what is beneath it.

Today, these words offered by one of my best friends struck deeply: "There's one voice that's missing here...Your voice."

So here is the question: What do I think of myself?

I know what God says about me. I'm growing in my awareness of what others think. But, the idea that I need to have a voice in this process is a new thought for me. (That reality has roots in some other parts of my story that are literally leaping out from the pages of my mind in this moment!) It all reminds me of the words a man offered back to Jesus in Luke 10:27 regarding the greatest commandment:

"You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength and all your mind. And, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Back in college, one of my pastors taught through this brief passage. I remember realizing that loving oneself--knowing, experiencing and living from the identity that God has given us in Christ--was of utmost importance. I don't think I realized until today that this is still an enormous struggle for me.  And, I don't want to live here... I want Him to redeem it. I really, really do.

What If I'm Not as Brave as Ruth?

She left everything she knew to follow her mother-in-law to a different country. Her husband was dead. Her sister-in-law chose to listen and head back to her homeland. Ruth didn't listen, deciding instead to stay with Naomi. She decided to worship the God of Naomi's ancestors. She moved toward relationship and stuck with it.

Then she put herself out there--she went to work. She knew they needed food to survive and although she might face danger or abuse in the fields, she worked hard anyway. God showed her favor as she found herself laboring in a field owned by Boaz. I'm sure she had no clue how he would choose to move toward her and provide for her. But, he did and Boaz went above and beyond.

Naomi saw an opportunity for their future--Boaz was a man who could change their situation--He was one of their kinsman redeemers. Ruth did everything Naomi instructed her to do. She put herself out there in the most pronounced way. Instead of taking advantage of her or rejecting her, Boaz acted honorably and sought Ruth's best. He went through the proper channels and kept his word in the end. He sacrificed his own future by taking Ruth as his wife.

God honored all three--Naomi was no longer destitute because God gave her a son through the union of Ruth and Boaz. Ruth and Boaz became great grandparents of King David and ultimately, Jesus came from their family line. They were blessed in ways they likely couldn't have imagined.

I've been thinking about how brave they all were, but especially Ruth. In a day when women have such independence, I don't have a need to have a man in my life in this way. But, I desire it. Honestly, it's easier these days for me to hang my hat on Paul's words in the New Testament where he says it's better to remain single than be married. Living in that, I don't have to wrestle with the tension in my heart of actually wanting a relationship, but doubting God's goodness or desire in wanting to provide for me. My experience with men has not matched what I understand as I read about Boaz--he was filled with such care and integrity. Instead, it feels easier to let go of the desire altogether.

Though my circumstances are certainly not the same, the heart issue is... Ruth chose to believe something that I'm still struggling with in this area of my life and I admire her for it.  She ventured out and lived a life of remarkable faith. She knew God as Redeemer. Instead of shutting down and failing to remain open to how God might want to provide for me, I pray I follow her example.

A Reminder Not to Forget

I sat quietly with Him this morning. Two me-sized french presses of coffee and my Bible. I have a front and back side of a page left in my current journal, but I couldn't pull it out to record what I was thinking. It's been like that for a couple weeks. Yesterday, I ventured out to buy the next edition hoping it would help me move on. I love the new one. Somehow, I did not have it in me to finish the other though. Maybe it says something that it's ending.  

The soon-to-be old one is blue. The now-friend that bought it for me didn't know me when she did. She later recounted that she picked up a red journal, but set it aside thinking, "No, blue..." She was right to buy that one. It was in my heart before I met her to have a blue journal. A little unexpected surprise. A gift that represented something I didn't yet understand.  

Then, that year, it became a tangible representation of what we called the "Blue Dot." The place that I hoped to arrive after walking a path forward from the "Red Dot." Standing on this red dot, I looked ahead to an unknown future--I was so broken, messy and lacked direction. The blue dot represented hope for a time to come that would bring with it change and clarity and healing. It's hard to leave that process behind, even in the face of the good that has come from red to blue to now... 

As I sat crossed-legged on the chair at my round dining room table, I read about remembering. God constantly called the Israelites to remember that He was who He claimed to be, that He loved them, and how He was faithful to His promises. Time and again they forgot. Time and again He forgave them and made a way for them to come back. Deuteronomy 6:4-9 is called the Shema, "Hear"--an essential part of Jewish worship, something that is repeated multiple times in a day. What I took from it today? It's a reminder not to forget.  

I read them aloud. Then, I wrote them on a wall. (A chalkboard wall.) 

⁴ “Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.^{[a] 5} And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength. ⁶ And you must commit yourselves wholeheartedly to these commands that I am giving you today. ⁷ Repeat them again and again to your children. Talk about them when you are at home and when you are on the road, when you are going to bed and when you are getting up. ⁸ Tie them to your hands and wear them on your forehead as reminders. ⁹ Write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates."

 (www.biblegateway.com)

I still don't quite understand what it was about this reading today, but I sat there with those words for a while. I found myself closing my eyes and listening in the silence. Tears surfaced and I cried. I just let my head hang slightly downward as I took notice of my breathing and the rhythmic beating of my heart. I thought about God's goodness to me and the ways that I want to trust, but struggle with doubt. I imagined what it would be like to put these words in other places where I couldn't miss them--I so desire to remember. 

And, honestly, I just sat there as the Lord pressed into my heart. He was reminding me that there are some things I care about in my life that I'm letting go of because I don't believe that He could be good to me in those areas. I don't see how certain outcomes are possible--my understanding is so limited--but He gently reminded me that nothing is impossible for Him. Nothing. I wonder about it though. His timing is a mystery to me. The things He calls me to do at times, the same. I've been obedient to Him in ways these past few months that have only furthered the pain I experience in one particular area of my life. I know He is good to me even in that, but I still don't understand how that is true in the present. 

Perhaps that's where I leave it tonight. I want to remember. Remind me not to forget?

Grafted In

My friends are adopting a little boy from Ethiopia and just flew to meet him this week. As I've read their trip updates, I've been absolutely overwhelmed by the beauty of this story. Their journey has been long to reach this initial meeting and court date, but he belongs to them now--he is their son! And, he'll come home in the next few months. Our many prayers have been answered...

I've cried as I've read their words and imagined what it has felt like to meet this person they've invited into their family. They chose this--it was intentional. He is wanted. He is desired. He is loved. And yet, they did not even know him until recently. Those realities blow me away and lead me to tears.

God knew though. He knew all. He understood from the beginning of time that He would lead my friends in this way and give them a powerful love for this little boy. God orchestrated it all--in His love He chose this for them. I cannot understand it. It's too wonderful, it's so meaningful...

The thing is, I don't know that I know love like that. I know that God is love. I experience His love and yet, I don't think that I've recognized how His love for me reaches out to me in this same way. In John, Jesus tells us, "You did not choose Me, but I chose you..." He has grafted me in and has made me His daughter. The Lord has been taking these pieces of their story to speak directly to my heart reminding me of the depths of His love for me. I feel so wanted. I feel desired. I feel so loved. And still, I cannot adequately express what it means to me. In fact, the floodgates are opened and I weep each time I consider it.

To Paul and Anne, your faithfulness and perseverance has blessed me in a way I never imagined. Your story has helped me see the Father with new lenses. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. There is certainly more to this story in the days ahead. I think I just needed to pause in this moment to acknowledge the impact and significance of what it means to comprehend that we're wanted. Thank you for living out His heart for all of us in your lives and in your family. It matters.

Something Old... Something New...

Today started with me in my version of 'pajamas' (as my friend, Julie tells it anyway--it was actually a skirt and tank top, but you know...), little to no make-up and a waking up as you go sort-of attitude. Today was Lindsey and Kevin's wedding day. Julie and I headed out early, meeting Lindsey and her sister at Starbucks to spend some time together, but most importantly, time with the Lord.

We did that for Julie's wedding nearly two years ago. How special to repeat it on this day.

Friday, Saturday and Sunday have been a whirlwind of activity, but days filled with joy. From a Bachelorette Party that started at my house and ended at a local comedy club the girls and I love, to a sweet rehearsal where we practiced a dance the bridal party would do at the reception, to Raglan Road for the rehearsal dinner, there were so many sweet moments. We've laughed a ton.

The ceremony was one of the most wonderful I've yet to be a part of up to this point. The bridesmaids entered the sanctuary in our "Pearl Pink" dresses and the music played. We tried to walk slowly. There was a brief opportunity for quiet as a relative read a short passage in Revelation talking about Jesus coming for His Bride, the Church. The music began again and we all sang familiar words, "How great is our God..." as the church doors opened and Lindsey and her dad made the long walk down the aisle. When she reached the front, she and Kevin sang these words to one another through teary eyes, smiling at one another. Her hand full with bouquet lifted into the air as she praised Jesus. I was moved to tears. It was truly beautiful.

And, they committed their lives to one another. They made a covenant before God and all of us to live this life as one, to love each other and together, to pursue His Kingdom. They reminded each other that they couldn't do it in their own strength--that they would fail if they did so--but, trusting God, they said, "I do." It was a powerful reminder of that truth and reality... They can't do it on their own. They will need help.

Then the party... And, oh, what a party! We danced and danced and danced. And, laughed and laughed and laughed. I told a couple of the guys from Colorado that they needed to move here. Seriously, I mean it (if you ever read this blog, I mean, I meant it!!!). I probably said it ten times. We caught up on life since way back then and something inside me was reminded of where I've come from. All the while, I'm spinning around the dance floor (maybe I was jumping and twirling at once... you'll never know) taking in the faces of people that have become dear to me here. Worlds collide. It was awesome. I also made new friends, but who is really surprised? :)

At long last, my friends needed to go. Out came the bubbles and we made the line, showering them as they ran to their 'getaway' car--a lovely red Ford Mustang convertible--nicely done. I sort-of yell over the crowd and the bubbles, "Love you, Linds!!!" while she grabs something and quickly turns to me with a smile then promptly chucks a bouquet at me! Number five. Number five... I felt loved (and the girl has an arm, so my ribs also felt a bit shocked by the impact!). Then they drove away... to Jamaica or something cool like that.

Going back to gather my things, I said goodbyes to the Colorado friends. I really delighted in seeing them! I'm a little surprised by how much it meant to me. I tracked down Lindsey's family, hugged them and told them what a great party they threw. Smiling, I savored a short walk down my old street finding the valet who said I was the last one... He was kind to wait for me to come get my car.  I drove home replaying it all in my head. I feel really thankful--such a perfect way to spend three days of your life, really...

Happy, Happy Wedding Day, Kevin & Linds. I love you guys so much. Thanks for letting me share in your beautifully orchestrated day... It really was an honor.

Love Lavishly!!

I've been thinking a lot this last week about my most recent post. I faced my own words about throwing off those perceptions and moving forward in faith with honesty and realized I was actually on the fence about following through. As I investigated what was behind all of it, I saw that I did not believe it was possible to do so--that was hard to see in myself. The idea of throwing those perceptions off has been a point of contention for me since. What would it look like? What would it mean?

Going back to my own motivations, I understood that part of me wanted to allow a wall to remain so I would not have to risk and be hurt again. Again. Sometimes that feels like the story of my life, but I realize that it's such a small story to live out in this life. And, my story is part of a much grander and exceptionally beautiful narrative, so why would I allow this tiny thing to have lasting influence?

I talked about love in the last post, too. I know it is the tool, the sword, to combat what I've been facing. Part of me has felt like it's too heavy to pick up, too cumbersome to hold. That's the lie. It feels heavy because it's contrary to what the world wants me to do and I'm loaded down with those images, words, ways of operating--love feels so raw, so unfamiliar, so risky.

And the truth is that it is... It's all of those things, but His Kingdom is built on that foundation. It's contrary to the old life, the old me. I'm still learning to receive it. How do I offer it while I'm still in school trying to figure out how to let it in? But I realize, we learn so much better by experience... These experiences are helping me on both fronts; so I receive it and I learn to offer it. I love lavishly because I am lavishly loved.

Love is the reality that grounds these feet that want to run away. It holds them in place and invites me to stay (all of me). Love allows me the freedom to be myself and live from that place--truly throwing off those perceptions and living as freely as I did before they were brought to my attention. The perceptions are not my guide on to how to behave. Love is. He is. We love because He first loved us.

Perceptions

There have been moments over the past few days when I've felt a sadness fall over me. I've been asking for clarity as to it's cause because honestly, life has been sweet this past week. What I realized is that a good friendship has recently had to shift due to the perceptions of others and the meaning they, and yes, even my friend, assigned to my actions without asking me about my actual intentions. The process was hurtful, but in the end, my friend and I reconciled and came to clarity on what was most important. I'm very thankful for all of that.

So why the sadness?

First, because of all of this, my friendship has changed with that person. While there is merit in it changing due to these perceptions, something has been lost in the process. By nature, I'm a physically affectionate person with those I care about and I also seek to lavish my friends with verbal encouragement when I'm in their presence and when I am not. It's a joy for me to notice them and highlight things I enjoy, admire and appreciate about them.

I can no longer freely offer these things to this friend. I feel shackled (I'm choosing that, actually). I know our friendship can continue without these things being present in certain ways, but I don't feel freedom to be myself--that feels significant. I've increased in my awareness of our interactions and have even greater boundaries than I did before. I feel like I'm constantly editing myself--That makes me sad.

Second, regardless of the motives of the individuals who approached my friend, they were actually asking me to change and lacked the courage to bring it to be personally; instead, they relied on our mutual friend to handle their thoughts on the matter. I've been asked to change a lot over the years. Some people have held open disdain for me and while that's pretty hurtful, this feels worse.

Personally, I've never intentionally sought someone out to speak to them about another person without a motive. I could list for you the times I have done this and the reasons behind it because even if I communicated something 'spur of the moment', I had thought about that thing or that person for quite some time. And, if I'm honest I was always motivated by fear, jealously, envy or competition in circumstances like this one.

In this process, my friend assumed I was concerned about my reputation. While for me, the larger point was wondering what motivated these individuals to offer their perceptions in the first place. I think I value honesty so severely in my life and it bothered me not only that they made assumptions about me, but they routed their perceptions along a course that avoided dealing with me themselves. I offer forgiveness to these individuals without knowing who they are. Yet, I don't hold respect for them. This, too, makes me sad.

What do I take from all of this? Love.

God calls me to love. He calls me to trust Him for the forward steps in my friendship when I feel uncertain how to navigate it. He calls me to trust that He will speak what is true to everyone involved. He calls me to live in such a way that I would honor people in the future and always check my motives before acting. He calls me to continue to live a life of vulnerability, honesty and risk--even when that means facing rejection. He invites me to remember what is true and reminds me that He will change me in the areas that require it. Simply, I need to continue to posture myself in humility and surrender before Him and others. He will handle the rest.

So tonight I shake off these perceptions and once again, move forward in faith.

Urging it to Burn

Everywhere I've gone the past two weeks, people have gone out of their way to tell me how great I look. Honestly, I have no idea what they're seeing, but apparently it has been noticeable. And tonight, as I skimmed posts I've written over these past few months, I understood once again that God has been at work bringing redemption to me.

To run or to stay? This seems to be the most dominant theme playing out in my life right now. In a way, I've been bumping into my own issues again and again and again. I want to escape from them, but living life in community prevents me from doing so, I guess. Life has been characterized by one emotional land mine after another blowing up in my face since December, and I've been left to piece together what set each off in the first place.

What's funny in all of it though is that I've seen a spark light up inside of me in this process. This sort-of flame that was blown out a long time ago has been relit and I think I'm fanning it now... I'm urging it to burn.

Where people have spoken harmful things, I'm believing the truth and separating myself from their commentaries. When I have felt uncertain of what the best next step is I've rested, prayed and taken time not to act. Sure, I've been sad about some things, I've been wounded and some days, I haven't chosen to believe the truth. But, in all of it I've recognized that if God is really good--I mean, really, exceptionally good--and goodness is inseparable from who He is, then I don't need to sweat this stuff or these people or these circumstances.

Though, I don't dismiss them either. I take everything to Him and let Him inform the good that I need to hang onto. Still, the rest goes--like garbage that I drop at the curb and forget about completely.

I think that's where forgiveness comes in--I release it, let it go and do that over and over again until I forget to remember it or talk about it with such ease and a smile, remembering the hardship of the time, but the sweetness of the days that followed it more--this is the best choice for everyone involved; me included. It doesn't mean that I haven't had to move through the stuff to arrive at the place where I leave it at the curb. I suppose that's why it has been messy and draining.

And I guess that's why I'm surprised at these recent reactions--so here I've been with tunnel-vision, fighting my way through another war and all the while people in and around my life are witnessing beauty. I just don't know how He does it. Regardless, I think I should keep fanning this flame.

Staying the Course

I have cried a lot this week. Some of those tears developed from a place of grieving--releasing the past so I can embrace the present. The rest rose from a place of deep sadness related to a wounding conversation. Relationally, these last twelve months have been so painful especially when it comes to men; and yet, I'm surprised (and celebrating) the growth I've seen in myself when it comes to vulnerability and speaking the truth about myself to others.

In fact, last night I was reminded of an old post I wrote (Free from the Facade) and reading it this morning, I was amazed at how far I've come in the process of allowing myself to be known and living a life characterized by vulnerability. I've told the truth and I'm thankful. Doing so has brought increasing levels of freedom to my life. In that way, fear hasn't controlled me. 

God is still working to free me from my instinct to run away though. Honestly, I've wanted to this week--I've strongly desired to shut myself off from a friendship again. Instead, He's asking me to trust Him, to forgive, to love well, to believe the best and to sit in what feels painful--to stay. 

An old friend once told me that I have a enormous capacity to love. He also said that because of this I hurt more deeply. My continued experience tells me this is true. Perhaps God was helping me understand, way back then, what He was going to ask me to walk into in my life. Today I pray for the grace to stay the course.

Behind Basketball & Brackets

The non-sports fans out there won't understand this, but tonight I realized that the Tourney started and I didn't catch a single game on day one, round one. In fact, I didn't fill out a bracket either. Who am I? I mean, I thought about filling one out--it's been my annual routine since I discovered my love of college basketball in 1995 via two of my favorite high school teachers--the men's and women's basketball coaches. I never quite got into the women's tournament (sorry Bartok and every female out there who cares deeply about the women's side), but absolutely fell head over heels in love with the men's games. I'm human, okay? Regardless, I considered filling out my bracket and then I let the idea slip away into a sort of non-existence this year.

When I think about basketball and the way it's shaped me, I feel a bit surprised by the weight of the influence. I discovered the Tourney at a time in my adolescence when I was running away from God and escaping the pain of some wounds inflicted by high school friends--Christian friends from my youth group at that. I already liked the sport by the time these particular events played out--perhaps that's why it was natural to step more deeply into community surrounding it.

I won't unpack the specifics here, but in the midst of the hurt I experienced I made two significant vows that followed me for years to come: "I will never be hurt like that again" and "I will make new friends, better friends." The latter carried with it a determination that those who injured me would regret their choice for letting me go. I was on a journey to prove my worth and value by what I might obtain through effort and investment. I'm sure we all recognize that this storyline wasn't going to make life any easier. And it didn't, but it certainly numbed my pain for a while.

Not all of it was bad, of course. As I ran, I encountered a group of people that genuinely cared about me. The guys on the varsity team became some of my closest friends my junior and senior years. I sang the anthem at a bunch of their games. Their coach, Mr. Main was such an encouragement to me in that process--upon learning that I sang, he persuaded me to sing for a game the guys had at the sports arena in Denver. The "big time", you know... In fact, I remember being so nervous about singing at that first game--I practiced for the audience of a wall off to the side of the arena for the better part of thirty minutes (I'm amazed my voice was still in tact for the actual singing...); after I finished the last note and replaced the microphone, I walked past the guys huddling up and my friend, Matt stuck his hand out of the circle and squeezed mine. I felt so seen and known.

There were things like that about this community that shaped me in the best ways--those guys just let me be me and they liked me for it. They didn't mind that I was more book smart than street smart or a little naive about the world (or maybe a lot).  I didn't have to try with them and I guess I didn't realize that I felt I had to try in my life before them.

I baked chocolate chip cookies for those guys every week and we ate them during this thing we called "Advisement"--a weekly study hall of sorts. We'd all show up in the classroom of either the girls or guys coaches (which were connected by an inner door) and spend the 90 minutes catching up on homework, talking about the last games, whatever. Those were some of my favorite days. Mr. Main always tried to give me advice about one of the guys (I liked one of them in particular and they all knew it). I even babysat for he and his wife that year.

Our senior year, his appendix ruptured and he almost died. I remember going to their house to visit him and talking to him about Jesus. I wasn't exactly walking well with God (there was a lot to that at the time), but I knew I needed to tell him about my faith. It was a sweet conversation and I was so glad he was okay.

My first year of college, I came back and sang for one of the guy's games during my Christmas break. I hadn't really talked with the guys much since we all graduated and seem to think that a few of us were there that night. There was another girl sitting near the score-keepers area who I knew from choir the year before. She thought she was on deck to sing that night. Mr. Main kindly asked her to let me sing instead since I was visiting which she agreed to, but the act caused a little high school drama to unfold as I watched her head back to the student bleachers where she proceeded to tell her friends what just happened in an animated fashion. I hugged everyone goodbye that night and not long after, headed back up to school for spring semester.

Spring break came and I found myself at home again. I'd just filled out my bracket for the Tourney and kept thinking about Mr. Main and the guys. As I drove through town for this or that errand, I kept thinking of he and his family and thought I should pop in to show him how well I was doing that year (to date, I think it's still the best bracket I ever had). Well, I never got around to it. My break was nearly over the morning my friend's mom called me to say that Mr. Main had died suddenly after a pick-up game at the school. My mom handed me the phone while I sat in her kitchen.

Regret. Sadness. Shock. I began analyzing how many opportunities I had to visit him that week. I went to the high school that day and just sat in his classroom, staring at the chalkboard and crying. I even looked through his desk drawer and found some of our senior pictures--a few of the guys on the team, a few of my girlfriends and mine. Later that day, I called his wife and told the person who answered the phone that if she wanted me to sing at his memorial service, I'd be more than happy to do so... I just wanted to help in some way. Once the details were together about the service, I tracked down the guys who were on the team from my class, calling each of them to tell them the news.

His wife had called me back personally to say that she'd love for me to sing. She wanted me to pick the songs, but had one request. I learned that song. The others were hymns I picked with the help of a friend that told about Jesus. I had been on a journey back to Him myself that year. The memorial service found all of us clumped together, dressed in dark colors, talking, but not talking in rows of the church he attended. We told stories and I had the chance to talk about hope in Christ. After, I drove one of the guys home and we talked in depth about God's love for him. I still don't know if that conversation ever changed anything for him, but I pray that it did.

I kept the bracket. I still have it somewhere. There's more to this story, but I'll end there for now. March Madness has a significant place in my life because of these events. Each year I think of the guys and Mr. Main. It seems strange to let it go a little this year because it feels like I'm letting them go. Perhaps that's part of a bigger story that God's been leading me into regarding my past. Maybe I'll understand that better not so long from now.

So He Can Give Me His Best...

Last night my house church spent the evening in Luke 7:18-35--the retelling of John the Baptist sending his disciples to see if Jesus was indeed the Messiah. When they find Jesus and ask Him, the text tells us:

 ²¹ At that very time, Jesus cured many people of their diseases, illnesses, and evil spirits, and he restored sight to many who were blind. ²² Then he told John’s disciples, “Go back to John and tell him what you have seen and heard—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. ²³ And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.^[c]’” 

(www.biblegateway.com)

Jesus doesn't respond to the question directly (which is often the case), but tells John's disciples the reality that He is fulfilling prophecies from Isaiah regarding what the Messiah would come to do. Looking back into Isaiah, we found that Jesus does not mention everything that is listed there--perhaps that's part of John's hang-up? Jesus isn't meeting every expectation, so John feels uncertain.

After John's disciples leave, Jesus turns His attention to the crowds around Him and addresses another form of expectation--those held by the people regarding John and his role in preparing the way. He then addresses the Pharisees and points out more expectations--essentially, if God doesn't work in the way they expect Him to, they're unhappy and go about life in their own way--rejecting God's good plan for them!

This is a very short explanation of a passage that contains so much detail and depth. There's much more that I could say, but I want to offer this today: As I read and considered what seemed to be a dry passage (in fact, I told my house church that as I was preparing to facilitate, I genuinely wanted to skip ahead to the next story--one that resonates far more deeply with my emotions than this story), I realized that God was speaking to me again about my expectations and my disappointment.

Is Jesus ushering in the kind of kingdom I desire in my life or do I have other ideas about what that should look like? Discussing it last night, I realized that I fall into the latter camp. The ways that my disappointment has been triggered during the past few months points directly to this reality. I've been in so much pain and desperately long for God to shut off any form of hope or desire in a particular area, but He's too kind to do that. 

In His gentleness and love He continues to offer me His hand--an invitation--to go still further into this place of brokenness and need. He wants to be the One to assign meaning and purpose to what I'm experiencing so that His Kingdom will come into this space inside of me that craves His love and His light. He's asking me to lay down my expectations of what He should provide for me so He can give me His best.

I don't know how John felt when his disciples reported back to him the things that Jesus said, but I feel undone. Jesus, bring Your Kingdom in the way and the time that You desire... That's where my heart goes with this... I want Him to accomplish it in His way, not mine. And, painful as it is to be in this place of healing which requires that I surrender every expectation and motive,  I know that the outcomes He produces in the process are filled with goodness and the right kind of fruit.

Launching Point

I picked my outfit out last night and changed half of it at the very last moment... Part of me felt anxious for the evening, the other, excited. Landing on a black skirt, red top and my favorite patent black heels, I scurried out to my car and texted, "Just left my house! Running late, sorry!" On the freeway, I called my friend who remained at my house and asked, "Can you check to see if I unplugged my curling iron?" I did. She calmly asked, "Do you want me to pray for you?" I breathed deeply, "Yes, please..."

Arriving at the restaurant, about half of the party was there. Thankful to have calmed down a bit, I began to notice my surroundings. For one, the weather was absolutely lovely. Our tables were out on the back deck of the restaurant overlooking a lake. It was a bit breezy, but I regarded the movement with a sense of appreciation. Something else could be in motion--I could choose to rest.

While it has been official for a few weeks, this evening meant a lot to me.  Fifteen friends took time from their busy lives and schedules to join me in celebrating the ending of a significant part of my life tonight.  There's something about being the center of attention that makes me a little edgy and I suppose that's what I was feeling in the moments leading up to dinner. However, as the rest of the group arrived, I found myself hugging people and expressing my gratitude that they made it out... Slowly, I let myself relax.

We ordered appetizers and the conversations continued. I sat there soaking up the loveliness of the outdoor patio, the lake, the strong breeze, fabulous food, the fireworks that suddenly appeared in the distance, the faces of the people who came to be with me and the memories of how I met each of them... I kept smiling as I considered those things again and again while I sat there. I felt loved. I felt thankful.

At one point, my friend, Jenn turned to me and said something along the lines of, "It's amazing to see the people you have in your life..." I responded, "I'm really blessed. These people know my story--that's meaningful to me." And it is. Some know more than others, but they all share in it somehow. And, there were many that I couldn't include tonight--I marvel at that truth! Sometimes I genuinely wonder: Lord, who am I that You would show such goodness and kindness to me? I'm beyond grateful.

Driving home, I took it slow. I felt sad somehow, but I turned up the volume on the radio to avoid going into it in the car. When I arrived, there were a few people over and they invited me to play the game they were starting, but I knew I just needed some time to myself. I came in my room and a couple tears surfaced. I think what I'm feeling is change. There has been a world I've been a part of for a very long time and that chapter has closed. Life is moving forward and there are some challenges I'm already experiencing. I wonder about the future. I want to know how it turns out. I long to live it well.

I sat down and opened two cards that friends handed me tonight. The second contained closing words that brought encouragement and comfort in a powerful way:
"Now be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged...not because of us, or your community, or fruit in your ministry but...for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go."

I don't feel fearless at the moment. I have many questions, actually. Though, I do want to step into this new season resting in Jesus and living out my belief that He holds all things in His hands. In some ways I am doing that already; as for everything else, I'll have to take it one day (or minute or second) at a time because frankly, I'm not sure how else to go about it.  Here's to stepping into the great unknown...

A Future Letter to My 33-Year-Old Self

Dear Self,

Ten years have passed since season 33 (and almost a half! You still celebrate it...). Looking back, there are several things I wish you could see about the future that would aid you in the place of pain you're currently sitting in. It's not that it has been eradicated from your life, but you've gained greater perspective (yet again). Remember how you used to think, "Wow, if only I could have told myself the things I know now in my twenties, I would have rested more in the process!"? Well, today, you're looking ahead to counsel yourself in the present with that very idea in mind. So please listen carefully.

Puzzles are meant to be taken out of boxes and put together on tables--people and circumstances are not puzzles for you to figure out. Let go.

You have come so far. God has met you time and again--His Gospel continues to shape and transform you into the image of Jesus. Press on.

Hope and desire are not your enemies. Jesus is inviting you into these places because He loves you. Remain in Him.

Your past has influenced who you are today (in helpful and harmful ways), but it does not define you. The healing that Jesus needs to accomplish is worth it--He's freeing you to believe what's true about who He made you to be so you can live from that reality. Receive it. Walk in it. 

He is good. He is faithful. He is trustworthy. He has confidence in you. He has only the best intentions toward you. He loves you. His plans for your life are astoundingly wonderful. He wants you to be free. He sees you. He is your Peace. He is your Helper. He is your Counselor. He is your Refuge. He is your Friend. He is the Lover of your soul. He is your Sovereign Lord. He is your Home.

Worship. Rest. Wrestle. Let Him hold your hand and lead you still deeper into the muck. You'll be so glad you chose in!!! I'm proud of you. I'm encouraged as I think about all that has come to fruition because you did not run away.

I love you very much,
You

He Saw Her

"When the Lord saw her, His heart overflowed with compassion. 'Don't cry!' He said. Then He walked over to the coffin and touched it, and the bearers stopped. 'Young man,' He said, 'I tell you, get up.'"

Luke 7:11-17 (NLT)

She'd lost everything. First her husband, and now, her son. Unlike the Roman Officer whose story we learn of just a few verses prior, she did not seek Jesus out. He found her. A large crowd was following Him, the passage tells us--to the village of Nain. The funeral procession was coming His way--a large crowd was also with her. In a way, the two groups collide and Jesus, He sees her.

I'm just sitting with that for a minute. He saw her.

Not only that, but when He saw her, His heart overflowed with compassion. 

A friend of mine looked up the definition of compassion as she studied this story this week. It spoke of deep empathy that moves one toward action. Here we see Jesus embodying the definition... He steps into her shoes and feels the reality of her story--He understands the depth of her loss and I'm certain, knows what's ahead for her in life without her son. At the time, a woman with no husband and no son had no way to provide for herself. Desolation. Poverty. Hopelessness. Death.

She had every reason for disappointment, grief and despair. But then, Jesus comes along and sees her; and His compassion moves Him to act. He wakes her son up and restores him to his mother. The Word says it plainly, "And Jesus gave him back to his mother."

In a moment, her whole story changed again. Hope was rekindled and life was revived while disappointment, grief and despair died. Those who witnessed it revered God, praising Him saying, "God has visited His people today."

I feel like that woman. Disappointment and the deaths that accompany it have weighed me down during what feels like a never-ending season. I long to hope and believe that He sees me and when He does, His heart overflows with compassion, but I'm still experiencing a disconnect. 

Fear and past rejections have dug roads in my soul that have been infiltrated with roots running so deep that if pulled, would bring absolute destruction. I want life, but I don't know how He can provide it with all that death in the way. It seems impossible, in fact, and my disappointment blinds me from seeing anything beyond what is in front of my face. 

Does He see me? Will His heart overflow with compassion for me? 

I hope.

To Place My Heart in the Way of Harm

I'm sending out mixed signals
bottom line
  I'm scared to death
to truly let you see what's real
so I sabotage myself

Anxiety rises quietly
then spins me toward despair
my confident exterior
belies deep-seated fear

So cavernous the pain
my past has wrought
I question then compare
undoubtably you won't choose me
so I take that seat back there

My wounded heart is healing
the gift is now I see
and understand the decision mine
to let Him set me free
   tear down the walls I've built
   bring soul restoration with Your Light, Your Love
   root these feet profoundly in the soil of Your Foundation
   open these palms to receive Your good provision
   thank You for guiding me to close that other door

Lovingly I conclude this time
to place my heart in the way of harm
my only hope is He holds it tight
as I rest in lieu of commanding flight.

My History Keepers

They are my History Keepers
fellow travelers who have chosen
to tag along
  on this path I am on
celebrating my highest of heights
holding me in my lowest of lows
  with an intent gaze transfer
                                     strength
                                     hope
                                     belief
                                     that something better is to come

These are my Dear Ones who
  stand in my many gaps
  listen with more than their ears
  quiet me with kind words through my tears
  tell me the truth when it's the last thing I want to hear

They are my Stalwarts
upon whom I depend
those who desire to know me
       so I show them the places I hate to go
                       the wrecked
                       the ugly
                       the hopeless
                       the faithless
                             pieces of my soul

These are my True Friends
they who remember what was and what is
see me and take note of the differences
smile at me from the "I know you" lens

You dear History Keepers
so safe and courageous
thank you for offering me unmerited favor.

February

It's winter and it feels like fall outside. Thankfully. I'm reveling in the experience of the change of season and in the same moment, grateful that there is no snow. Part of me wants it to feel like winter today though--I'm even wearing a bright sunshiney-yellow sweater to combat the 'cold' and 'grey' in my imagination. My mind has been occupied with many thoughts this past week and I feel weary in them.  I've been working on a poem to describe it all and haven't found the vocabulary to finish the account yet. And, somehow bare branches and the frozen Charles (if it has indeed crystalized this year) seem the most appealing thing in the world to me right now. To witness something that outwardly reflects the inner soil of my heart in this day would feel refreshing.

Jumping on a plane and stepping outside that familiar airport, inhaling that frigid, exhaust-filled air and hugging myself into the arms of safe friends who know me is all I want right now. Those people who have walked so much of my history with me and understand where much of what's going on in my head comes from at present. The familiar pink mug and coffee in the morning--the solace of their living room and green couches--the ability to just be and know I'm cared for by them. The gift of knowing I'm strong, but not needing to be strong there. And, the irony is thick as I think of the way we always talked about my need to leave in February because the winter became too much. I now want the reverse somehow? Strange.

So, you know who you are--I'm just missing you today. Wishing I only lived that 15 minute drive away and could come over and just be there. Thankful that I know if I ran away to the Hub, I could do all of that. Just knowing it would be okay means a lot today.

And our friends, The Autumn Film, offer these sweet words to my soul today:

"May your heart hold on, when it gets hard

May your pulse stay strong, when you're falling apart

And so I'll row, row..."

--The Autumn Film, 8 Track Tape, "Row",  2012

Firmly Plant Such Wayward Feet

Tonight was the second time in the past few months that the Lord brought to mind the words of a poem He'd given me last year. Still in process toward the belief that I am an actual writer, it feels odd to have vocabulary that you've carefully arranged come to you in moments of prayer. Four hours ago, I sat with my left leg crossed over the right, bent forward, head down, palms up and tears surfacing. The band played and the music enveloped me, but my mouth was like the desert and my vocal chords refused to utter a singing sound. All I could hear were my own words from months ago reaching out from a distant place and planting themselves upon my mind, then my lips, finally taking root in my heart. These words became my prayer:


"Firmly plant such wayward feet
    prone to run
      escape before I'd come undone..."


The message tonight was on relationships and for me, like most, they are the source of my greatest pain and woundings. God has spoken new life into me over years that now mark my past; my present life holds such a different perspective and hope. Yet, even as I live that truth and reality, my old habits try to resurface--I'm just thankful when I notice them before I choose to give way and flee. Yes, flee--I'm a runner.


I never thought of myself in this way, but about this time last year I actually started to run. This had to do with exercise and not relationships, mind you. I remember telling my physical therapist (I had been injured in an accident) that I was not a runner. Shortly thereafter, she had me on the treadmill running sprints of all things. Sprints! I gave my best and oldest excuse of shin splints and stress fractures from days gone by, but she wouldn't have it. She and my chiropractor provided me with exercises and icing strategies and sent me on my way. The funny thing is, all of that stuff worked and before long, I was running sprints with no pain. Even more astounding, I loved it. I still do.


Becoming a runner of sprints has taught me something about the other kind of running I do; namely, I now see my choice in the matter. Intentionally choosing to run has produced a new confidence inside me, I've felt empowered, my body has grown stronger and more capable of other physical activity, I've toned up and I rest more easily. The changes are significant and I miss it when I'm not consistent. 


My other form of running has largely been marked by running away from anything that looks risky or scary relationally.* I tend to witness myself opening up by letting someone in and before they or I know what hit us, shut it down. Danger! The warning sirens are shrill, loud voices, announcing all of the bad things that could happen and I'm on my way--running away--toward 'safer' shores. And my rewards are depletion, feeling a deep sense of rejection, anxiousness and restlessness. 


In the quietness of my heart tonight, I took deep physical breaths and spoke these words to God. I asked Him to firmly plant these wayward feet that are prone to run, to escape before I come undone. You see, in December He asked me to begin praying for something very specific. It was a very challenging thing for me to pray for because I wanted to put conditions on it... I wanted to say, "But, God, if this doesn't happen, it's okay--Because THY will be done!..." 


I wanted to manage my disappointment before the prayer was uttered. I wanted to choose how I would feel when He didn't answer it. And, because He knows me well, He was extremely clear that I was not to caveat this particular prayer with those words that are so true ("Thy will be done..."). He could see my motive because He knew my heart. God was inviting me to trust Him--not only with the prayer itself, but with the disappointment I anticipated I'd step into given my belief that He wouldn't answer it anyway. Sad, yes?


Yes.


"Firmly plant such wayward feet..." I kept repeating the line over and over and over again. Tears crossed the wall of my lashes and I took deep breaths as I wrestled with them. I don't really want to run away this time. I mean, I do, but I don't. Everything around me seems to point to the reality that these are empty words, meaningless in the big scheme of things. I continue to want to give Him a way out--"Maybe you meant this instead..." I'm grasping at straws for a formula that will make my heart feel better in the waiting. No formula is capable of it.


I once read in a book that: "...a relational wound requires a relational solution." How true. And, how difficult. And so, I keep praying. I continue living in the tension of what He has asked of me, having no idea what the outcome will be of the asking. Finding that I'm looking for clues as to its meaning everywhere lately, I reminded myself tonight, "You are deeply loved, totally known, pursued. HE is your Home, your place of Safety, your Refuge." 


One day, and I hope it's much sooner than later, I pray the only running I do is at the gym. 


*Don't get me wrong, there have been some unhealthy relationships along the way and I've established healthy boundaries and put distance between myself and those individuals in appropriate ways.

Seven Days

A week passes and life changes dramatically. Seven days ago I was a "PC person"--I'm writing tonight from a Mac. Seven days ago I sent out letters to my ministry partners announcing a major shift in life--close to twelve years with a wonderful organization comes to a end. Seven days ago, my Grandmother was just advancing in years; today, she has an Aortic Aneurysm.

Long before any of these things became realities in my life, the Lord knew about each of them. I breathe deeply as I consider that truth. He knew. Not only did He possess the knowledge of the events and circumstances, but He also knew how I would feel about each of them from least to greatest. The significance of this is not lost on me tonight.

There were other happenings these past seven days, of course. God opened doors for me to step into something I'm insanely excited about related to my new adventure, but indirectly. Someone I hadn't talked to in a long time reached out for reconciliation and I wondered, "Didn't we?" Diving into that feels like swimming in tar at the moment as I go back and try to recall why this might still be undone; perhaps that will change and closure will finally be achieved. In the midst of transition, I remembered that choosing to have boundaries is healthy and decided to take some time to downshift, maintain some tasks that can't be overlooked, spend time with Jesus in an extremely intentional fashion and maybe take some time to finally hang the artwork in my bedroom (shooting for the stars there!...) instead of jumping right in to the new stuff.

All of these things only add fuel to the fire of my worship and love for Him because I know He's in every part of it. Talking with my Mom this week, I recounted multiple ways that God has made Himself known to me these past few weeks. I told story after story about His provision and the ways I've been able to experience healing and love. One friend spent a few minutes sharing the growth that he has seen in a particular area of my spiritual life since the last time we worked closely together--he was so encouraged that he went home and told his wife about it! As I shared that particular moment with my Mom, she took the opportunity to tell me how she and my Dad had noticed major changes in me when I was home for Christmas. I was in awe of God's movement and the transformation He has caused in me.

Perhaps some of this is why, in the midst of such change and hard news, I can take joy. I see the fingerprints of God all over my life right now and I cannot help but express my supreme delight in His goodness--in every part of it. Somehow, I know that it all really will turn out for good--I'm in a place where I can believe God's intentions are to bring blessing into my life no matter what shape the course takes. And, although I've found that I'm not sleeping too well these days, I am uncovering what it means to enter His rest.

Joy and Sadness

Today began with a waking awareness of my love for Jesus. I've been sitting in that place all morning and can't adequately express its sweetness. He is incredible. He is my everything. I absolutely adore Him and couldn't be more grateful in this moment for all that He is and for what He has done on my behalf because of His love for me. I'm astounded by the way He is working in my life at present and humbled by His invitation for depth and intimacy and influence for His Kingdom's sake.

I came to the office where I've been steadily working on a letter to a larger group of people about a major change that is on the horizon for me. Gratefully, I've revisited the words God has given me to communicate about what He is asking me to step into--a new season and adventure. And, as I prepared a list of people who will receive this letter, I realized that my Grandfather is still listed among my contacts. But, He is gone. He won't read this update. In fact, I need to delete his name and address from this list. I feel incapable of the act.

And here are the tears. Intermingled with the sweetness of the morning comes sadness and the grief of loss. I'm not sure what else to do with it, so I hold it carefully in my palm, close to my heart and remember. His legacy has played a key role in my being here in life, let alone in this moment of change. His boldness and courage allow me to be both bold and courageous. I'm so thankful for his example. In fact, he reminds me a lot of Jesus.

I can't wrap any of this up with a neat little bow, so I leave it here today--messy and undone. I miss you, Dedyshka.

The Really Real

Quiet conversations
Meandering below stars high above
A chill in the air
Speaking of love

Tears rise to the surface
A tender routine
My battle continues
To remember I'm seen

The voices now louder
They've increased their pitch
Weighed under the banter
My heart in the ditch

Repetitive truths now I offer
Spoken from these very lips
With great energy expended
The Truth my soul grips

Rejection you're trampled
I'm closing my ears
Competition, you crumble
Farewell all my fears

I canceled our friendships
That cold, snowy day
Went back to the beginning
Paved a new way

So tonight as I rest
My dreams, they'll be sweet
The reality is,
In Him, I'm complete.

America Befriends Tyranny?

Is this the moment when we begin ducking our heads? Did the last day of 2011 mark the beginning of the end of my being able to state personal opinions loudly in the public square (via this platform or otherwise)? The President of the United States assures me that while he's on deck, no American will be indefinitely detained for suspicion of terrorist activity without due process. Do I believe him? And what come November? Does the United States Bill of Rights mean anything after December 31, 2011?  

I'm not naive enough to believe that this decision, this Bill, which became US Law, happened overnight. I'm presently startled by how silently it made its way through the American Legislative Branch and rested at last upon that desk in the Oval Office where our President "reluctantly" signed it into Law. Where have I been? And where are my fellow Americans? Do we really believe that the pursuit of our safety requires relinquishment of all of the freedoms granted us by the US Constitution and Bill of Rights? Sincerely, do we believe that? Do I? Perhaps more importantly, do we understand that what happened changes those freedoms profoundly and severely? Are the implications clear to each of us? 

The world is a broken place--of that I am certain--I believe we're all quite convinced on this point. In no way do I say any of this to discount the ongoing pain and suffering experienced by the families who lost loved ones on that horrific September day in 2001. In fact, I have the deepest respect for them and what they've been through. In the same way, tonight I think of our Founding Fathers. I think of those families that sacrificed their safety so that we might enjoy the freedoms we have come to expect as Americans in 2012. What of their sacrifice? What of that cost?  

I don't intend to sound dramatic. I'm simply and extremely sobered by this development. However, I am reminded in the midst of what feels like a wave of worry: God remains on His throne. I trust Him. I know that His will is already accomplished.  

I do take a moment and ask Him: What role do You desire for me to step into? How am I to live in this changing landscape of diminishing freedoms usurped from American citizens by the very people we voted into public office? Though, I also remember that my true freedom is never diminished--it rests in Christ alone and upon the sure foundation of His life, death and resurrection. What hope! This Good News certainly shines brighter tonight. 

And still, I wrestle with the existing reality. These words offered by those who have gone before give me plenty of food for thought and I sit with them tonight and consider their wisdom…

A Bill of Rights is what the people are entitled to against every government, and what no just government should refuse, or rest on inference.--Thomas Jefferson

Concentrated power has always been the enemy of liberty.--Ronald Reagan

If the freedom of speech is taken away then dumb and silent we may be led, like sheep to the slaughter.--George Washington

 All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.--Thomas Jefferson