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.