I did something tonight that I never remember doing before. Strange, really. Earlier today, plans of New Year's Eve dancing and jamming and big parties were falling apart before my very eyes. I started searching and making calls (which for me means a lot of text messaging because I rarely actually use my phone for talking : ). The result was meeting new friends down the street for great conversation, less than an hour at a party, and then off to meet my dear roomies and friends for a New Year's Service at a local church. It was simply greatness. Songs of new and old swirled around the candles, scriptures filled with hope and newness danced around the room......and then there was Midnight. As we stood and held hands and recited the Lord's Prayer together - there was a peace there. There is something about that second - isn't it? That second where an old year ends and a new year begins? 5.....4.....3....2.....And then there is midnight - and then there is the new year - and then there is celebration. But tonight - there was no celebration. Not really. There just......was......A new year. Quietly. Calmly. Confetti-free. Noiseless. Lovely. It was a beautiful way to celebrated it, and one, strangely, I have never done in such a way.
Each year I take some time - usually a day or two - just to reflect on what the past year has taught me, what God wished to teach me that maybe I didn't learn so well, and what changes need to happen in the new year. Ironically - in the past few weeks there is a song that has played at the end of almost every Hot Yoga session I have had (Yes, I am addicted...). It's Tracy Chapman's "Change." (Post of the song and lyrics to come). The words of the song seem to have prepared me for today
Each year I make goals. Resolutions, if you will - about changes that need to be made in my life. Most of those are the same year after year. Be On Time More. Start your One Year Bible and read it every day. Eat Healthier. Spend more time with your family. Read two books a month. Etc. Etc. Etc. Did you know that 7 out of the top 10 resolutions have to do with changing our bodies, our budgets, or our bad habits. Seventy Percent. So I started thinking.......what if we have it all wrong? And there-in lies my revelation:
What if it isn't about what we DO or don't DO? What if it more about who we need to BE? What if our resolution was more about BEING different than DOING different? Which leads me to this song. Or maybe this song led me to the revelation. If I started changing the way I thought, how I saw the world, altered my perspective a bit - wouldn't the rest come so much more naturally? It is amusing to me when we stop living for ourselves (to please ourselves, grow our wealth, build our egos, become skinnier, stronger, to strive....just striving and striving) and we get OUT of ourselves long enough to begin living for something BIGGER than ourselves.....we suddenly FIND ourselves. Searching for how we are to love more out of His heart than how to prove who we are - and somehow we begin to feel more fulfilled. Why? It's not about us anymore. Somehow we begin looking past our own reflection in the mirror and into the eyes of a Savior.....mirroring the eyes of His children......and it becomes less about what changes we need to make in what we DO and we start to see the changes we need to make in WHO WE ARE. Soulfully. Spiritually, Deeply. Who we really ARE.
So - back to the song......It made me re-recognize this. Life isn't about life at all. Life is about Living. Oh, how we confuse the two. It is about finding life through intimacy. Intimacy with God, Family, Friends, and Ourselves. It is about Forgiveness. Authenticity. Learning to be Real. Learning to trust someone safe with our darkest secrets - because our secrets kill our spirits. It's about Learning to Love and Be Loved. Learning to Trust. Learning to Share. Learning to Kill our Pride and replace it with Humility. Learning to Serve. Learning to Give. Learning to Receive. Learning from Living. Learning. It is about putting our time and energy into those things we cannot see, hear, or taste. It is about all things eternal. It is about taking calculated chances because we will not pass this way again, and we don't want to wake up in a wheelchair in a nursing home being immersed in regrets. It is about taking the time to sit in the floor with your kids and play with them. It is about dancing when everyone is looking and not caring. It is about telling them how you feel now because you may not get another now. It is about doing whatever it takes to find reconciliation with God, because without that....we are really dead. If you knew....if you KNEW that this would be your last year....if you KNEW that you had one more year of living....12 months. Would you change? Would you stop working so much? Would you value things differently? Would you change where you spend your time? Would you swallow your pride to reach out and get the help you needed? Would you make that phone call? Would you write that letter? Would you somehow find the strength to truly let go of what you have been fretting about, bitter about, depressed about? Would you change? And if you wanted to change, but didn't know how.....would you do what it took to find out?
Because....eventually....maybe tonight....maybe tomorrow night....maybe in 6 months or 6 years.
There will be Midnight.
And it will end. And forever will begin. And we will, at that moment, have a different kind of revelation. A revelation of how tiny this life is compared to forever. A forever that we cannot really comprehend. A forever that is REALLY what it's all about.
Just ask Tracy. Ms. Chapman, that is....and take a minute to listen to her sing:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4jNpJRYNzs
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHANGE:
If you knew that you would die today, Saw the face of God and love, Would you change? Would you change?
If you knew that love can break your heart. When you're down so low you cannot fall. Would you change? Would you change?
How bad, how good does it need to get? How many losses? How much regret? What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around, Makes you try to explain, Makes you forgive and forget, Makes you change? Makes you change?
If you knew that you would be alone, Knowing right, being wrong, Would you change? Would you change?
If you knew that you would find a truth That brings up pain that can't be soothed Would you change? Would you change?
How bad, how good does it need to get? How many losses? How much regret? What chain reaction would cause an effect?
Makes you turn around, Makes you try to explain, Makes you forgive and forget, Makes you change? Makes you change?
Are you so upright you can't be bent? If it comes to blows are you so sure you won't be crawling? If not for the good, why risk falling? Why risk falling? If everything you think you know, Makes your life unbearable, Would you change? Would you change?
If you'd broken every rule and vow, And hard times come to bring you down, Would you change? Would you change?
If you knew that you would die today, If you saw the face of God and love, Would you change?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
The Silence of God is the Beginning of Wisdom
Do you ever write things that come from your soul - maybe from you spirit, but you aren't sure what they mean? Sometimes they are letters making up words making up sentences, but more often than not....the represent something deeper. For me, it's often something I think God is trying to tell me. Maybe something that I'm not learning very well.
I often find myself getting into the "zone" as I like to call it and writing from a place beyond myself - even sometimes picking up something I wrote on a random piece of paper that has fallen in between my night-stand and my bed and wondering....wait, did I write that? Or maybe I was just "a tiny pencil in the hand of a writing God..." as Mother Teresa once said. Regardless, tonight was one of those nights. I witnessed the sunset on the backdrop of the War Memorial Cross. Breathtaking. I had waited longer than anticipated and didn't quite get to watch the full showing.....I found myself rushing, Trying to Drive Faster than the Sun could Set. Quite a feeling. Racing the Sunset. But, I was. Topping the Hill - there she stood. All sixty feet of her. In the background was a sun nestling down for the night. I took a picture with my phone and wrote these words before I could even think about it.....
....And the Silence of God is the Beginning of Wisdom.
I watched the colors become even more vibrant as they slowly went into hiding, and I suddenly noticed I was all alone. There was no one there. Me, The towering white sixty foot Cross, the Sunset......well, and God. And I began to write:
And the Silence of God is the Beginning of Wisdom. Meaning? Meaning this: The Silence becomes quiet within it's own strength. True Wisdom begins to be born when we are forced to learn to Trust Him even in His Silence. Knowing He is there even when you can't hear Him. A deep acceptance of not understanding, not comprehending, and not even liking - but having faith that He still remains present. He still remains God. That is the beginning of Maturity. That is the essence of Faith. That is the beginning of Wisdom.
If seeing is believing, then what happens to our faith when we are utterly and ultimately blind? Amidst the deafening silence of unanswered prayers - of not feeling Him, seeing Him, or hearing a word...are we not then faced with an decision? As a new neighbor knocking on a door of a new house - knocking......knocking.....knocking -and we hear no answer. We hear no clatter, no footsteps, no noise - and so we must decide. Do we leave in abandonment or do we wait? Wait. Wait. Wait. Trusting. Believing. Knowing that He is on the other side. Not because we have any evidence of that fact - save that it is a Fact. It is a promise. He has said it and it is so. A promise from a God that cannot Lie.
He IS on the other side of the door. He is in there. Preparing a place before us in the presence of The Enemy. "Making ready a place in His Father's mansions - for if it were not so....he would have told us."
And so we choose to wait. Believing in what seems to be the unbelievable. Not because it makes sense or because we understand it - but because, simply, SIMPLY, it was promised. THAT promise: that He will Never leave us nor Forsake us - can be larger than a feeling of confusion. Deeper than the most painful feeling of abandonment. Louder the most hollow of echos.
Wow - what strength it takes to believe that sometimes. And they say faith is for the weak of spirit......for the weak. Faith for the weak? I laugh. How much strength it takes to have faith as compared to those who are faithless. Believing in Nothing requires much less energy than believing in Something - especially when that something or someone is deathly quiet. Is Silent. A Silent God - but He isn't. Not at all.
Lord, just because you are quiet - doesn't mean you are silent. Help us, Father, to simply understand you. Maybe that is what his next year truly needs to be about. Not about doing something differently or making something happen - but, maybe, it is simply about BEING more of what you would want us to be and taking on the quest of understanding you at a deeper level. No - your silence is not a silence at all. It is simply a quiet place for us to settle. For us to trust. For us to listen......for us to seek Wisdom. In it's beginning. In it's birth.
May it be born - may we be quiet and listen to your Strength. Listening Loudly. Hearing Clearly. Unraveling Wisdom - Sunset by Quiet Sunset.
Hmmmmmm, I wonder - Can you hear it?
I often find myself getting into the "zone" as I like to call it and writing from a place beyond myself - even sometimes picking up something I wrote on a random piece of paper that has fallen in between my night-stand and my bed and wondering....wait, did I write that? Or maybe I was just "a tiny pencil in the hand of a writing God..." as Mother Teresa once said. Regardless, tonight was one of those nights. I witnessed the sunset on the backdrop of the War Memorial Cross. Breathtaking. I had waited longer than anticipated and didn't quite get to watch the full showing.....I found myself rushing, Trying to Drive Faster than the Sun could Set. Quite a feeling. Racing the Sunset. But, I was. Topping the Hill - there she stood. All sixty feet of her. In the background was a sun nestling down for the night. I took a picture with my phone and wrote these words before I could even think about it.....
....And the Silence of God is the Beginning of Wisdom.
I watched the colors become even more vibrant as they slowly went into hiding, and I suddenly noticed I was all alone. There was no one there. Me, The towering white sixty foot Cross, the Sunset......well, and God. And I began to write:
And the Silence of God is the Beginning of Wisdom. Meaning? Meaning this: The Silence becomes quiet within it's own strength. True Wisdom begins to be born when we are forced to learn to Trust Him even in His Silence. Knowing He is there even when you can't hear Him. A deep acceptance of not understanding, not comprehending, and not even liking - but having faith that He still remains present. He still remains God. That is the beginning of Maturity. That is the essence of Faith. That is the beginning of Wisdom.
If seeing is believing, then what happens to our faith when we are utterly and ultimately blind? Amidst the deafening silence of unanswered prayers - of not feeling Him, seeing Him, or hearing a word...are we not then faced with an decision? As a new neighbor knocking on a door of a new house - knocking......knocking.....knocking -and we hear no answer. We hear no clatter, no footsteps, no noise - and so we must decide. Do we leave in abandonment or do we wait? Wait. Wait. Wait. Trusting. Believing. Knowing that He is on the other side. Not because we have any evidence of that fact - save that it is a Fact. It is a promise. He has said it and it is so. A promise from a God that cannot Lie.
He IS on the other side of the door. He is in there. Preparing a place before us in the presence of The Enemy. "Making ready a place in His Father's mansions - for if it were not so....he would have told us."
And so we choose to wait. Believing in what seems to be the unbelievable. Not because it makes sense or because we understand it - but because, simply, SIMPLY, it was promised. THAT promise: that He will Never leave us nor Forsake us - can be larger than a feeling of confusion. Deeper than the most painful feeling of abandonment. Louder the most hollow of echos.
Wow - what strength it takes to believe that sometimes. And they say faith is for the weak of spirit......for the weak. Faith for the weak? I laugh. How much strength it takes to have faith as compared to those who are faithless. Believing in Nothing requires much less energy than believing in Something - especially when that something or someone is deathly quiet. Is Silent. A Silent God - but He isn't. Not at all.
Lord, just because you are quiet - doesn't mean you are silent. Help us, Father, to simply understand you. Maybe that is what his next year truly needs to be about. Not about doing something differently or making something happen - but, maybe, it is simply about BEING more of what you would want us to be and taking on the quest of understanding you at a deeper level. No - your silence is not a silence at all. It is simply a quiet place for us to settle. For us to trust. For us to listen......for us to seek Wisdom. In it's beginning. In it's birth.
May it be born - may we be quiet and listen to your Strength. Listening Loudly. Hearing Clearly. Unraveling Wisdom - Sunset by Quiet Sunset.
Hmmmmmm, I wonder - Can you hear it?
A feather as my bookmark.......
I use feathers as bookmarks, and I love the sound of certain words as they roll off of my tongue. I don't like very many things with wires. I also semi-loathe voices that come from inanimate objects with engines pretending to be a person telling you what direction to turn in "X" amount of miles. I crave to live in the Christmas episode of Little House on the Prairie, and I wish we could all just get along. I crave authenticity and I value original thoughts - though I think that sometimes we use that to create our own reality that simply doesn't exist. I love to challenge and to be challenged, and I love to be fiercely pursued as strongly as is the existence of Love itself......and I take a few days at the first of every year to try to let God teach me.
What have I learned this past year? What is it you want me to see clearer? How would you have me to change to reflect you better? What has life taught me in the past 12 months, and how can I become a better student? How would you take this next year, Lord, and use it?
I ask these questions at the first of every year and I try to listen. Listen loudly. As I sit in front of this fireplace, I realize that there are many changes on the horizon for me. I feel in my bones that this next year will be a year of change and purpose and growth. The past four years have been astronomical in terms of what God has taught me, how God has changed me, and what life has brought me - pain, purpose, brokenness, beginnings, opportunities, walls, loneliness, intimacy, wisdom, and stupidity. I pray that I continue to walk the path and travel the journey. He as my guide and teacher - my Rabbi - and I as His wide-eyed daughter with big questions and bigger dreams.
"The only reason my heart beats is because you showed it how. I will find my way. You showed me. I'll find my way. Cause you showed me how..... " I listen to Katie sing.
I am here because you have allowed me to be here. I pray, Lord, that you never let me forget that.
So these next few days will consist of a lot of writing, reading, praying and (or course) Blogging. Which is just another way of journaling with a battery - yes?
In anticipation - b
What have I learned this past year? What is it you want me to see clearer? How would you have me to change to reflect you better? What has life taught me in the past 12 months, and how can I become a better student? How would you take this next year, Lord, and use it?
I ask these questions at the first of every year and I try to listen. Listen loudly. As I sit in front of this fireplace, I realize that there are many changes on the horizon for me. I feel in my bones that this next year will be a year of change and purpose and growth. The past four years have been astronomical in terms of what God has taught me, how God has changed me, and what life has brought me - pain, purpose, brokenness, beginnings, opportunities, walls, loneliness, intimacy, wisdom, and stupidity. I pray that I continue to walk the path and travel the journey. He as my guide and teacher - my Rabbi - and I as His wide-eyed daughter with big questions and bigger dreams.
"The only reason my heart beats is because you showed it how. I will find my way. You showed me. I'll find my way. Cause you showed me how..... " I listen to Katie sing.
I am here because you have allowed me to be here. I pray, Lord, that you never let me forget that.
So these next few days will consist of a lot of writing, reading, praying and (or course) Blogging. Which is just another way of journaling with a battery - yes?
In anticipation - b
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Christmas Day - A Thrill of Hope
Have you ever wondered why God used light to lead the wisemen to Jesus? Why a star? Why not a sheep that they followed to Bethlehem or a pre-pathed trail leading to the Savior's manger? So many ways that could have led to the same baby King on that night. Ever think about it? Countless options and He chose one - a Star - a Light. I, personally, believe that was the most symbolic part of the whole story. The fact that the King of Kings was born in such degrading surroundings teaches us about the honor of humility. The fact that God was born to an unwed virgin mother speaks to the power He has to use the tiniest of us for the greatest of His glory. Believing in us even when we don't believe in ourselves. But the fact that He used a light to usher in the Glory of Grace has Hope nestled all around it. Starlight surrounded by Darkness. Brilliance peeking through The world's Pain. Pure Love and Goodness gifting the Lost. I think of one word:
Hope - Gift Five. And what a precious gift it is.
If you have read any of my other blogs, you know that this has been a theme of this past year for me. After Congo - my previous view of hope was unraveled. Having a patient at the first of the year commit suicide, I was forced to understand it's vitality at a different level. Hope - to be without it has been described as "living as the dead". Which is why many often choose to end their lives........at that very moment, they can see absolutely no hope. This hit home for me, yet again, yesterday as the phone rang to let us know that our cousin, still in his twenties, had taken his life. Hopeless....Lost....Loneliness at such a deep level that Darkness takes on an entirely different meaning.
What drowns out Darkness? It is Light. What Looks Evil in the Eye? Goodness. Love. What sits across from Despair? Challenging it - Taunting it - Boldly standing tall in Strength and Confidence? Fighting it tooth and nail? Hope. H O P E.
The Star that night represented so much more than just something to follow that lead to the ending of the Scavenger Hunts of all Scavenger Hunts. It was more than a compass. It was a Hope like no other. You see, what this past year has taught me is this: It is all about what you are Hoping FOR. In Congo, if they wait for their hopes of raping and warring to end then they may never find it. If we, in our daily lives, wait for our hopes of total security, a phenomenal marriage or mate, the perfect size, recognition, someone to be proud of us, or for a situation to be as it should be - then disappointment will ever linger in our hearts. We simply have no guarantee of anything - anything other than Something. Something wonderful. What I have learned this year is that when we are able to dig deep within ourselves and eyegaze as high as we possible can.....looking beyond our situation, past our pain, and into the eyes of a Savior - born many years ago. We become the Wisemen surrendering our will. We become the followers of a Celestial Being bigger than our own situation. We become hopeful of two things: Above all - the Hope of Heaven. And Beyond that: The Hope of the hand of God reaching out for ours, holding it gently in His palm - Guiding. Loving. Comforting. Going before us to providentially pave a way. Looking out. Looking up. Beneath a...
"Star of wonder. Star of Light. Star of Royal Beauty Bright. Westward leading. Still proceeding. Guide us to thy Perfect Light" That's a Hope bigger than Life. Literally.
Wishing you the Merriest of Christmases and Hoping that you Never Ever Look at the Stars the same....
All My Love, b
p.s. Thanks for going on this five day journey with me. It has been enlightening for me, for sure. Now....off to make a Gingerbread House with a Princess ; )
Hope - Gift Five. And what a precious gift it is.
If you have read any of my other blogs, you know that this has been a theme of this past year for me. After Congo - my previous view of hope was unraveled. Having a patient at the first of the year commit suicide, I was forced to understand it's vitality at a different level. Hope - to be without it has been described as "living as the dead". Which is why many often choose to end their lives........at that very moment, they can see absolutely no hope. This hit home for me, yet again, yesterday as the phone rang to let us know that our cousin, still in his twenties, had taken his life. Hopeless....Lost....Loneliness at such a deep level that Darkness takes on an entirely different meaning.
What drowns out Darkness? It is Light. What Looks Evil in the Eye? Goodness. Love. What sits across from Despair? Challenging it - Taunting it - Boldly standing tall in Strength and Confidence? Fighting it tooth and nail? Hope. H O P E.
The Star that night represented so much more than just something to follow that lead to the ending of the Scavenger Hunts of all Scavenger Hunts. It was more than a compass. It was a Hope like no other. You see, what this past year has taught me is this: It is all about what you are Hoping FOR. In Congo, if they wait for their hopes of raping and warring to end then they may never find it. If we, in our daily lives, wait for our hopes of total security, a phenomenal marriage or mate, the perfect size, recognition, someone to be proud of us, or for a situation to be as it should be - then disappointment will ever linger in our hearts. We simply have no guarantee of anything - anything other than Something. Something wonderful. What I have learned this year is that when we are able to dig deep within ourselves and eyegaze as high as we possible can.....looking beyond our situation, past our pain, and into the eyes of a Savior - born many years ago. We become the Wisemen surrendering our will. We become the followers of a Celestial Being bigger than our own situation. We become hopeful of two things: Above all - the Hope of Heaven. And Beyond that: The Hope of the hand of God reaching out for ours, holding it gently in His palm - Guiding. Loving. Comforting. Going before us to providentially pave a way. Looking out. Looking up. Beneath a...
"Star of wonder. Star of Light. Star of Royal Beauty Bright. Westward leading. Still proceeding. Guide us to thy Perfect Light" That's a Hope bigger than Life. Literally.
Wishing you the Merriest of Christmases and Hoping that you Never Ever Look at the Stars the same....
All My Love, b
p.s. Thanks for going on this five day journey with me. It has been enlightening for me, for sure. Now....off to make a Gingerbread House with a Princess ; )
Day Two - I Want You....
Have you ever loved someone so much it hurts? Like they are residing in your spirit? Almost like you are carrying them around with you in your heart and mind….at all times. Yeah, talk about magic. Sounds kinda familiar - given today. Immanuel. He is with us. Carrying us around in his heart and in his mind……and having the desire for us to do the same. Gift Four: Love.
Two things you guys probably grow weary of hearing about are my nieces and nephew and Africa. Tough ; ) I remember last year when Emma was around three. Three – that wonderful age when they interchange random words in preciously incorrect places, their Rs become Ws and sometimes their Ys become Ls. Instead of “I love you” it was “I yove you.” Actually, she said that sparingly. I think she thought if she said she loved anyone it meant that she didn’t love her mommy and daddy. Like she had to choose : ) So she would rarely say it back. Actually she, in her Haley/Bare boldness, would respond with “I don’t yike you and I don’t yuve you.” I would always smile and come back with, “That’s okay, sweetie, I love you enough for the both of us!” Again....I think that saying is not so unfamiliar to God either. But she said something else that I thought was The Best. When she missed me, she wouldn’t say “I Miss You”. She would call my phone at different times and leave me a message that said: “I Want You, Aunt B.” That’s all. Really meaning the same thing. I miss you….I want you. Just Bolder. That’s my girl!
“I want you”. Picture someone saying that to you for a moment. “I want you”. It holds a powerful meaning. I think everyone needs someone to think they are the greatest thing ever. Sometimes that can be on earth and sometimes it can be somewhere else…..It’s a humbling thought for me to think of the Creator of the Universe wanting a connection with me – with us – so much that he would rock His own world to come into ours in order to make that possible.
Speaking of thinking someone is the greatest things ever, right this second a sweet little five year old has just come up and snuggled underneath my arm. I play this game with her…the Guess What game. “Guess what, Julia?” “What?” “Guess What?” “What?” “Guess What?” “What?!” “I love you”. But She’s caught on in her old URL_REMOVED all I have to say is “Guess What?” and she smiles to say “You love me.”
I don’t think the apple has fallen far from The Tree….I can just hear Him during this season. Admist all of the lights, gifts, comings and goings, rushing, complaining, laughing, crying, wrapping, unwrapping, driving, flying, eating, drinking, being merry. He is whispering…..Guess What, My Child?
I love you.
Here is wishing you a Christmas Eve filled with a different kind of Love……
His, b
Two things you guys probably grow weary of hearing about are my nieces and nephew and Africa. Tough ; ) I remember last year when Emma was around three. Three – that wonderful age when they interchange random words in preciously incorrect places, their Rs become Ws and sometimes their Ys become Ls. Instead of “I love you” it was “I yove you.” Actually, she said that sparingly. I think she thought if she said she loved anyone it meant that she didn’t love her mommy and daddy. Like she had to choose : ) So she would rarely say it back. Actually she, in her Haley/Bare boldness, would respond with “I don’t yike you and I don’t yuve you.” I would always smile and come back with, “That’s okay, sweetie, I love you enough for the both of us!” Again....I think that saying is not so unfamiliar to God either. But she said something else that I thought was The Best. When she missed me, she wouldn’t say “I Miss You”. She would call my phone at different times and leave me a message that said: “I Want You, Aunt B.” That’s all. Really meaning the same thing. I miss you….I want you. Just Bolder. That’s my girl!
“I want you”. Picture someone saying that to you for a moment. “I want you”. It holds a powerful meaning. I think everyone needs someone to think they are the greatest thing ever. Sometimes that can be on earth and sometimes it can be somewhere else…..It’s a humbling thought for me to think of the Creator of the Universe wanting a connection with me – with us – so much that he would rock His own world to come into ours in order to make that possible.
Speaking of thinking someone is the greatest things ever, right this second a sweet little five year old has just come up and snuggled underneath my arm. I play this game with her…the Guess What game. “Guess what, Julia?” “What?” “Guess What?” “What?” “Guess What?” “What?!” “I love you”. But She’s caught on in her old URL_REMOVED all I have to say is “Guess What?” and she smiles to say “You love me.”
I don’t think the apple has fallen far from The Tree….I can just hear Him during this season. Admist all of the lights, gifts, comings and goings, rushing, complaining, laughing, crying, wrapping, unwrapping, driving, flying, eating, drinking, being merry. He is whispering…..Guess What, My Child?
I love you.
Here is wishing you a Christmas Eve filled with a different kind of Love……
His, b
Day Three - The Passing of Peace
Three Down - Two to go... BLOG: So, what's your favorite Christmas song? Have you ever listened to the lyrics of Oh Holy Night? No, I mean REALLY listened to them. Soaked them in like you were listening to poetry? Actually, it is poetry. The song originally was a poem written by a seller of wine in 1847. I hadn't truly listened to the words until a few years ago. But for some reason, one night I heard them as if I had never heard them before......it truly became my favorite Christmas song. The words melted my heart.
One of the the lines in particular has spoken to my spirit this year: "His law is love and His gospel is peace." This past year, I have experienced war from the sidelines. I have cried with the orphans from rebellious murder. I have held the hands of mothers who have lost child after child. I have had the utter and humbling privilege of looking into the eyes of women who have been war-raped to tell them they are beautiful in His sight. I have seen the aftermath of a war like no other, and I have understood the needed sustenance of peace. I have seen things this year that I have not and can not understand........and I am thankful for a peace that passes my lack of understanding.
"His Law Is Love and His Gospel Is Peace."
Peace. Gift number three. One of my favorite sayings is this: "Peace is not to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It is to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart." If my clients have heard this once, they have heard it fourteen times. It's funny - regardless of the reason they walk through that door -they all (we all) are searching for the same thing.
To find a peace that supersedes our attempts to reason or to understand and a love that is bigger than our pain.... You see, His birth was so much more than a birth of a Savior. With that birth ignited spiritual gifts that we could know no other way. And it all happened....
One Holy Night:
Lyrics below. Soak them in:
______________________________________________
O Holy Night
O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here came the wise men from Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our friend!
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His Gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His Name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy Name!
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
All My Love - All His Peace..... b
One of the the lines in particular has spoken to my spirit this year: "His law is love and His gospel is peace." This past year, I have experienced war from the sidelines. I have cried with the orphans from rebellious murder. I have held the hands of mothers who have lost child after child. I have had the utter and humbling privilege of looking into the eyes of women who have been war-raped to tell them they are beautiful in His sight. I have seen the aftermath of a war like no other, and I have understood the needed sustenance of peace. I have seen things this year that I have not and can not understand........and I am thankful for a peace that passes my lack of understanding.
"His Law Is Love and His Gospel Is Peace."
Peace. Gift number three. One of my favorite sayings is this: "Peace is not to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It is to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart." If my clients have heard this once, they have heard it fourteen times. It's funny - regardless of the reason they walk through that door -they all (we all) are searching for the same thing.
To find a peace that supersedes our attempts to reason or to understand and a love that is bigger than our pain.... You see, His birth was so much more than a birth of a Savior. With that birth ignited spiritual gifts that we could know no other way. And it all happened....
One Holy Night:
Lyrics below. Soak them in:
______________________________________________
O Holy Night
O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here came the wise men from Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our friend!
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His Gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His Name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy Name!
Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!
All My Love - All His Peace..... b
Day Four - Re-Gifting Grace
Four minutes left to this fourth day of Christmas, and I am just now able to sit down and write. Maybe the four paragraphs of this blog will make up for the length of the last one : ) I think about Gift Number Two in the Christmas Story:
Grace. What does it mean exactly? Forgiveness.....what does it entail? How do we find it, and what does it really have to do with Christmas? I remember watching the magic in Julia's eyes last Christmas Eve. As she asked questions about Santa's arrival and voiced concerns about how he would get into the house. Jumping at every tiny sound as bedtime drew closer and closer - bursting with anticipation. We put out the carrots for the reindeer and drew Santa some pictures for him to find beside his cookies and milk. I don't think I have ever seen her eyes so full of Wonderment. Ever. To tiny hearts with childlike faith and dreams of Sugar Plum Fairies - Christmas is truly magical.
Magical....magical.... I travel back in time to think about that night. God being born from His creation. Pure love transformed into flesh. Grace Personified. Grace. An Act of Forgiveness. A Choice to Release. A gift that we receive so freely, yet seem to give so sparingly. Yet what we don't realize is that it is only ourselves that we are truly damaging. We can't feel the fruit of true Joy when we still have roots in Unforgiveness. Oil and Water.
You know, I could use a hundred flowery words to capture the heart or tell stories that would connect the dots - but I think the heart of forgiveness and the essence of grace can be truly narrowed down into a few statements. God has so patiently taught me this: We don't forgive because what the person did was justified, not because they are deserving, or even because they ask for forgiveness or are sorrowful. Forgiveness doesn't even necessarily mean we stop being completely angry with that person.....though with enough time that may come. Forgiveness is the beginning of healing a broken part of your spirit. It a process in practicing grace - it is slow and it is grueling and it is necessary. William P. Young says that "It is about letting go of another person's throat." Why? Mainly because we ourselves were released long ago on a Magical Starlit Night when Grace became Flesh. The essence of forgiveness being born in a babe. That night, the universe changed forever. With the birth of a Savior, a Grace entered the world that could never be replicated and would never again be witnessed. Forgiveness came full circle...........and we would never be the same. Thank God we would never be the same.
This week, as we are surrounded by those we love dearly and those we simply don't like very much. Those who have loved us well and those who have hurt us deeply. May we have the courage to give that grace-filled gift that we ourselves were given - not because it is easy, but because it is best.
Enjoy Day Three.....In all it's magic.
Grace. What does it mean exactly? Forgiveness.....what does it entail? How do we find it, and what does it really have to do with Christmas? I remember watching the magic in Julia's eyes last Christmas Eve. As she asked questions about Santa's arrival and voiced concerns about how he would get into the house. Jumping at every tiny sound as bedtime drew closer and closer - bursting with anticipation. We put out the carrots for the reindeer and drew Santa some pictures for him to find beside his cookies and milk. I don't think I have ever seen her eyes so full of Wonderment. Ever. To tiny hearts with childlike faith and dreams of Sugar Plum Fairies - Christmas is truly magical.
Magical....magical.... I travel back in time to think about that night. God being born from His creation. Pure love transformed into flesh. Grace Personified. Grace. An Act of Forgiveness. A Choice to Release. A gift that we receive so freely, yet seem to give so sparingly. Yet what we don't realize is that it is only ourselves that we are truly damaging. We can't feel the fruit of true Joy when we still have roots in Unforgiveness. Oil and Water.
You know, I could use a hundred flowery words to capture the heart or tell stories that would connect the dots - but I think the heart of forgiveness and the essence of grace can be truly narrowed down into a few statements. God has so patiently taught me this: We don't forgive because what the person did was justified, not because they are deserving, or even because they ask for forgiveness or are sorrowful. Forgiveness doesn't even necessarily mean we stop being completely angry with that person.....though with enough time that may come. Forgiveness is the beginning of healing a broken part of your spirit. It a process in practicing grace - it is slow and it is grueling and it is necessary. William P. Young says that "It is about letting go of another person's throat." Why? Mainly because we ourselves were released long ago on a Magical Starlit Night when Grace became Flesh. The essence of forgiveness being born in a babe. That night, the universe changed forever. With the birth of a Savior, a Grace entered the world that could never be replicated and would never again be witnessed. Forgiveness came full circle...........and we would never be the same. Thank God we would never be the same.
This week, as we are surrounded by those we love dearly and those we simply don't like very much. Those who have loved us well and those who have hurt us deeply. May we have the courage to give that grace-filled gift that we ourselves were given - not because it is easy, but because it is best.
Enjoy Day Three.....In all it's magic.
The Five Days of Christmas - Her Name was Gloria
This is my gift. Elton sings that his gift is his song (and this one's for you... : ). My gift to you is my small words from my small mind. I had a strange thought in worship this morning about the five remaining days until Christmas, and I wondered if there were five gifts God were to teach us from His Christmas Story - what they would be? I took a stab at coming up with them, and I decided that I would use each day until Christmas to share each of them (for anyone who would want to read - though this one is coming a bit late : ):
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Her Name Was GLORIA
This is my gift. Elton sings that his gift is his song (and this one's for you... : ). My gift to you is my small words from my small mind. I had a strange thought in worship this morning about the five remaining days until Christmas, and I wondered if there were five gifts God were to teach us from His Christmas Story - what they would be? I took a stab at coming up with them, and I decided that I would use each day until Christmas to share each of them (for anyone who would want to read - though this one is coming a bit late : ):
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
~GLORIA~ (from journal in Uganda)
She had captured my heart from the day the children from the orphanage met us after we landed in Uganda. Her smile was not a normal one - her eyes, radiant - and there was something.....something I couldn't quite put my finger on. One by one each of the children came up and gave us a hug individually - as if it were wrapped in a gift and custom made for each person. Her embrace was as special as her smile. It was a shy, side hug and she looked down as she gave it. "What's your name?" I asked as I cradled the left side of her face with my right hand.
"Gloria" She said timidly. "My name is Glooooria," she repeated, in her Acholi accent.
Gloria.....and That she was. I watched her on and off during the week. I found her often standing next to me or looking down to find her seated beside me on the way to the IDP camp. She was subtle in wanting my attention - yet she sought it nonetheless, and I so desired to give it. I asked Rose about her story. They all had a story...but her's was unique.
"She and her parents were abducted by the rebels. She watched her parents die but was spared and then went to live with her auntie.....who died the next year from HIV. She then went to live with her grandmother who soon also died. She was found in a hut living alone."
"Did she have any siblings at all?"
"No - None"
ALONE.....such a powerful word. Cutting. Deep. Barren.
I watched her tonight as the children had their nightly bible study, said their memory verses aloud, and placed their small hands over their eyes as they prayed so diligently. Youth seems to know small boundaries in a war with no limits. I watched her look around the room with a look in her eyes of lostness. Searching - as if out of place. I watched her as she prayed. As she stated her memory verse. She watched back.
As my eyes followed her, I couldn't help but remember a song that must be playing about now back in the states. A song that captured her - a song that God must sing as He looks down on her every day - remembering her story of abandonment and lonliness. Most, if not all, of the other orphans are in sibling groups - but there is only one Gloria. Ironically wearing her green tied died tank top and her red corduroy pants - she simply looked lost - but her smile covered such a multitude of pain. She seemed to be missing something - yet if it were not for the orphanage, she would simply be Missing. So I watched her, and I hugged her goodbye, and I hurt for her, and I sang that sweet Christmas song in my head over and over on the ride home.
"Gloooooria in excelsis Deo"
And I thought about all of the orphans there - why did I hurt for her? Why?
She was alone. She was in a room full of orphans just like her and she was alone. There is little worse in life. Isolation left to its own will kill - if not the body then the spirit. When I got home I opened my bible and looked down to see what i was to read for the night. Matthew One. The first page of the book. I looked down and there were four words underlined. Four Words.
"God Is With Us." The previous sentence was this. "She will give birth to a son, and he will be called Immanuel." Yeah, He never ceases to amaze me.
What is the opposite of being alone? Of being lonely? It is simply to be "together." That's it. So simply. To simply be WITH. When asked what my favorite part of the first week in Sudan was I said this. When I had given each of the children a red heart and told them that represented God. I asked them to hold it close to their chest while they thought of their heartache and to then picture God being there.....somewhere.....with them. Then I had them to stand up and say together in their native tongue and their loudest voices, "GOD WILL NEVER LEAVE ME. GOD WILL NEVER FORSAKE ME. GOD LOVES ME." I captured that moment in my mind......and it will stay there forever.
You know, there are many things that God could have named Jesus. Many names that would have had different meanings. Thousands upon thousands of names He could have chosen. But out of all of those thousands upon thousands He chose one. G O D I S W I T H Y O U....and me.....and Gloria. He wanted us to know that so badly that he came down to show us. Maybe we had to see it for ourselves. Maybe it wasn't enough for Him just to tell us.
So on this long-winded "Day Five" - we find one word: Togetherness. There is a quote that I have struggled believing, "If we could truly grasp how deeply we are loved by God, we would never feel lonely again." Is it true? I have come to believe this: The question is not if it is true - the question is how deeply can we grasp the depth of His love? How diligently are we to pursue it? How welcoming are we to receive it? To be loved? If we can do that.....well, it would truly be.......
Glorious.
Tune in tomorrow for Day Four.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Someone Else's Thumbprint
I haven't lit a candle in a long time. I realized that as I struck the match in my room tonight. I know that may sound strange - but it's even stranger for me to have gone so long without lighting one. I do love candles. Wicks, actually......and the purity of candlelight. There seems little more authentic than candlelight. After a candle is lit for a little while, it cannot be perfectly replicated. It is it's own. Each candle becomes one of a kind according to how the wick is burnt down, how the wax is carved out by the heat of the flame and the density of the air that it breathes. Little by little - as it burns - it becomes more unique. More extinct. More itself.
And I think......are we so different?
Having been out of the country for a little while, I seem to have become even more aware of the beauty of authenticity. To be real. To be truly who you were created to be - not striving to be like someone else. To cease the stance to prove oneself. Finding freedom in being real. As I was journaling on the plane ride back to the states, I found myself writing this, "I have to be honest and say I am not ready to return home. This place is authentic to the core - from the smell of the freshly baked bread that greeted me on my run this morning, to the fresh goat cheese for breakfast......from the food to the people - it is authentic. And in truth, I dread returning to the Land of Plastic a bit. Plastic cards to purchase those things we cannot afford, Plastic bodies to overcompensate for our insecurities, Plastic smiles to cover a multitude of sins....sins that we all have and are all afraid to admit. Having a place, a someone, or a group of someones to be REAL around is just as important to living well as is our basic needs for food and water. But do we know that?"
I often think we try so hard to be someone else that we never find who we are. We compare bodies and bank accounts, cars and clothes, accomplishments and attentions - we are so busy looking to what others are, or have, or are becoming - that our goal becomes to be more like them rather than more like Christ. It's a shame, really. God is a god of originals. He is simply much too vast to re-create. The children's thumbprints in Sudan were used to show them how unique they were. They were told that no one was like them in the universe. No one has ever - nor will ever - be like them.......Ever. EVER. PERIOD. To me, that is a pretty incredible thought. I would say that some of them had never seen their thumbprint. Many didn't even know they had one!
And I wonder.... are we so different?
Being unaware of our uniqueness and trying to cover it up by being someone else's thumbprint. Thinking we aren't "good enough." Good Enough for what? My mind wanders....What would happen if we were on a deserted island and had no measuring stick. No one to compare ourselves against to measure our worth. Would we feel worthy? Would we feel as if we were "the best" because there was no one to compare ourselves to? I think it would be fascinating, really. The freedom of only comparing yourself to the person you see in the mirror - the person that God created you to be - and to make attempts to be a better version of that person (with all its melted valleys and peaks, its breezed carved waves of endentions, its ebbs and flows that is like no other.....Ever. Period.). The Freedom to live without fearing the refection or lack of approval from man. Nothing to prove. Nothing to gain. Nothing to strive for - other than to be more of what God would want us to be (and he makes that pretty clear that it starts with loving Him, letting Him love us, and Loving others through that Love). Truly, that would have to keep us busy enough that we would have little time to even acknowledge a comparison to those around us : ) We would become so busy looking up to God - asking Him to show us how to become a better version of ourselves - that we forget about comparing ourself to others. That is Arrival.
You see, God is teaching me about birthrights. When he chose to create us - at that moment we became valuable. Not because we were worthy - or because we are enough - or even remotely adequate. We aren't and never will be and that is (simply put) the whole point : ) BUT we became valuable at that moment because He saw us as treasured. We - YOU - are treasured. For no other reason than you were created by the fingertips of a mighty God and you now have the freedom to come into the best version of yourself simply by finding yourself, more unique, more extinct, more you. To strive to be anything more or less than that by comparing ourselves to others would actually be like looking at a piece of art that God so proudly created with its own quirks and wrinkles to say, "Well, it's ok, Creator of the Universe, but I wish it looked more like that one." What a shame. Insecurity is born out of a bondage to an void. A feeling that we should be more or different or less or alike. Instead of just coming into the full circle of ourselves, accepting our birthright of value, and walking ahead to live that out for the one who blessed us with that birthright upon conception.
Lord - I pray that we find that. That we are able to blind ourselves to others for a moment. Standing in front of the mirror and comparing ourselves only TO ourselves. Show our spirits the changes that need to be made between you and us - as we are your creation. Your art. And you are the Creator. May we evolve for you. Embracing and loving our originality as your fingerprints instead of fighting against it. Finding the freedom to make those changes we need to make - for no other reason than to become more like you. In doing that......well, there aren't a whole lot bases we won't be covering.
Thrilled and Honored to be Your Unique Creation
(and the world thanks you that you made only one : ) Whew!
I am......Yours, b
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
They Are Precious In His Sight
THEY ARE PRECIOUS IN HIS SIGHT.....
Amost Home...dealys in Amsterdam caused a missed connection to Nashville and I have a few hours to spare - and to share. Hearing the voices of my sweet nieces over the phone brought much joy. I always say if I were half the woman they see me as, I will be doing just fine : ) Hearing their screams, laughter, liveliness, and sweet voices.....two worlds seemed to collide. As soon as we hung up, my mind went back to the children we were just with at the orphanage. I keep hearing Rose's words, "All of them have been previously abducted...seen their parents killed...." The graphic explanations went on and on in heart wrenching detail. Because of their disturbance, I will likely be able to share the stories with only a few others. It amazes me how they LIVED something that I will only feel comfortable REPEATING a few times.
I listened to Julia laugh...Haley's loving spirit. They are so sheltered - and I wouldn't have it any other way. From Hendersonville, Tn to Gulu, Uganda - they are miles apart in more ways than one. The sorrow for those little ones comes over me like a heavy wave. To even fathom my little nieces having to remotely experince any of the pain those orphans have experienced ignites an anger that I hope never dies. It would be just as wrong - just as evil - for those so much a part of my heart compared to those living so far away. For them I will fight. For the Haleys and Emmas and Julias and Emersons in a skin of a different color and a country by a different name. For them I will fight. I think of Peter and Gloria and Richard. I see their smiles and am still in awe of their strength.
They are just as precious in His sight. They are just as weak. He is just as strong.
I saw hope there in Uganda. Hope that what is happening in Congo has a stopping point. Hope that there can be healing. Hope that love is still alive and that God is a God of restoration...if not in this life, then in the next.
Lord, in their beds tonight I pray they will feel you next to them as they sleep - bunk on top of bunk on top of bunk. For those 500 child soldiers still in Uganda, I pray. For the over 700 in Congo, I pray. I pray that although taken from their homes - this world will not forget them......just because they are quiet - just because they are unheard - just because they are far away. May then never be forgotten. May we, as a nation and as a world, realize that they are worth fighting for - and may we fight.
For we are - and they are......
Yours, b
12/16/08 by Bethany P. Haley
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Amost Home...dealys in Amsterdam caused a missed connection to Nashville and I have a few hours to spare - and to share. Hearing the voices of my sweet nieces over the phone brought much joy. I always say if I were half the woman they see me as, I will be doing just fine : ) Hearing their screams, laughter, liveliness, and sweet voices.....two worlds seemed to collide. As soon as we hung up, my mind went back to the children we were just with at the orphanage. I keep hearing Rose's words, "All of them have been previously abducted...seen their parents killed...." The graphic explanations went on and on in heart wrenching detail. Because of their disturbance, I will likely be able to share the stories with only a few others. It amazes me how they LIVED something that I will only feel comfortable REPEATING a few times.
I listened to Julia laugh...Haley's loving spirit. They are so sheltered - and I wouldn't have it any other way. From Hendersonville, Tn to Gulu, Uganda - they are miles apart in more ways than one. The sorrow for those little ones comes over me like a heavy wave. To even fathom my little nieces having to remotely experince any of the pain those orphans have experienced ignites an anger that I hope never dies. It would be just as wrong - just as evil - for those so much a part of my heart compared to those living so far away. For them I will fight. For the Haleys and Emmas and Julias and Emersons in a skin of a different color and a country by a different name. For them I will fight. I think of Peter and Gloria and Richard. I see their smiles and am still in awe of their strength.
They are just as precious in His sight. They are just as weak. He is just as strong.
I saw hope there in Uganda. Hope that what is happening in Congo has a stopping point. Hope that there can be healing. Hope that love is still alive and that God is a God of restoration...if not in this life, then in the next.
Lord, in their beds tonight I pray they will feel you next to them as they sleep - bunk on top of bunk on top of bunk. For those 500 child soldiers still in Uganda, I pray. For the over 700 in Congo, I pray. I pray that although taken from their homes - this world will not forget them......just because they are quiet - just because they are unheard - just because they are far away. May then never be forgotten. May we, as a nation and as a world, realize that they are worth fighting for - and may we fight.
For we are - and they are......
Yours, b
12/16/08 by Bethany P. Haley
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Tuesday, December 9, 2008
U G A N D A
After 30 minutes of internet attempts - I am finally in...My computer tells me that i have nine minutes and 13 seconds left. How do you begin to fill up this space with that much time.
Sudan was humbling and facinating. Kenya proved to be a tower of strength. Uganda.....Uganda......what an incredible place of hope and healing. I dream of seeing this in Goma one day. As we sat around Village of Hope orphanage last night and listened to the singing and prayers of the formally abducted child soldiers and young girls who have experienced horrific events I couldn't help my shed some tears. I was doing good until i saw they cover their faces with their hands and pray and pray and pray.......each one sporadically and unrehearsed calling out to God and praising Him for their safety and security. After we left I was told that all of them had either seen their parents killed at the mercy of the LRA rebel army or were forced to kill their parents themselves - yet they smile. Pure strength.
I am going to the IDP camps tonight to dance and sing with the children. Healing takes on a new level here as heartaches are etched at a deeper level. Much to learn. Much to know. God has been more than gracious already in leading me to those here who have been in the trenches (literally) and have loved in great ways.
Two minutes.....
I am keeping a blog in my journal and will update as i can.
Much love to all....b
PRAYING WITH A LEPOR
Again - only a few minutes, but just wanted to share a moment. After meeting with three NGOs yesterday to learn about trauma healing with formally abducted child soldiers and young girls, brainstoming about peace teaching in the schools, and soaking in an amazing ride on a motorbike.....I was full to overflowing.
Re-reading "The Shack" this morning to escape for a bit and discussing life with Michelle....we saw him. He wheeled himself up to the gate and said something in Acholi that we couldn't understand. Looking at him more closely - his wounds were unmistakeable. He clasped his fingertips together and put his hand toward his lips as the universal sign of "i am hungy." After a little discussion we found out that he has leprosy. My heart sank. I asked if I could give him my crackers and pray with him. The closer i got, the more i realized that he actually had no fingertips at all. most of his fingers were not even complete fingers and his feet were even more decayed. Realizing he would not be able to open the package, I opened it for him and slid my hand through the gate. He took it and smiled. Kneeling down i began to pray for him. A few seconds later Michelle was there beside me. Looking down at his feet as i prayed for him, i was asonished. What do you pray for such a man?
I walked away thinking simply what an honor it had been to bring him before the throne of God. Who am I Lord, that you would use me? Who am I.........
we fly back to kenya tomorrow. so much to learn here....i need weeks instead of days.
thanks to all for the prayers. xo b
Sudan was humbling and facinating. Kenya proved to be a tower of strength. Uganda.....Uganda......what an incredible place of hope and healing. I dream of seeing this in Goma one day. As we sat around Village of Hope orphanage last night and listened to the singing and prayers of the formally abducted child soldiers and young girls who have experienced horrific events I couldn't help my shed some tears. I was doing good until i saw they cover their faces with their hands and pray and pray and pray.......each one sporadically and unrehearsed calling out to God and praising Him for their safety and security. After we left I was told that all of them had either seen their parents killed at the mercy of the LRA rebel army or were forced to kill their parents themselves - yet they smile. Pure strength.
I am going to the IDP camps tonight to dance and sing with the children. Healing takes on a new level here as heartaches are etched at a deeper level. Much to learn. Much to know. God has been more than gracious already in leading me to those here who have been in the trenches (literally) and have loved in great ways.
Two minutes.....
I am keeping a blog in my journal and will update as i can.
Much love to all....b
PRAYING WITH A LEPOR
Again - only a few minutes, but just wanted to share a moment. After meeting with three NGOs yesterday to learn about trauma healing with formally abducted child soldiers and young girls, brainstoming about peace teaching in the schools, and soaking in an amazing ride on a motorbike.....I was full to overflowing.
Re-reading "The Shack" this morning to escape for a bit and discussing life with Michelle....we saw him. He wheeled himself up to the gate and said something in Acholi that we couldn't understand. Looking at him more closely - his wounds were unmistakeable. He clasped his fingertips together and put his hand toward his lips as the universal sign of "i am hungy." After a little discussion we found out that he has leprosy. My heart sank. I asked if I could give him my crackers and pray with him. The closer i got, the more i realized that he actually had no fingertips at all. most of his fingers were not even complete fingers and his feet were even more decayed. Realizing he would not be able to open the package, I opened it for him and slid my hand through the gate. He took it and smiled. Kneeling down i began to pray for him. A few seconds later Michelle was there beside me. Looking down at his feet as i prayed for him, i was asonished. What do you pray for such a man?
I walked away thinking simply what an honor it had been to bring him before the throne of God. Who am I Lord, that you would use me? Who am I.........
we fly back to kenya tomorrow. so much to learn here....i need weeks instead of days.
thanks to all for the prayers. xo b
Thursday, December 4, 2008
The Cup
I am sitting in front of a fireplace on top of a mountain….more in my mind than in reality, yet not too far from the truth. It is my secret place. I am thinking back to last night. Holding him close to me. Cuddling him close to my cheek. Looking into his brown eyes. He will be ONE on Saturday. I had the utter privledge this weekend of spending precious time with my nieces and nephew. Precious and Dear. I leave a week from Thursday to return to Africa, and I want to be able to spend some time with them before I leave.
The house was quiet. Emma and I had shared prayers-n-kisses and she was fast asleep. Emerson – not so much. As I rocked him in the chair and sang to him....Him looking at me with that thumb in his mouth. Me looking at him with a smirk of adoration. I had somewhat of a mind spinning moment. A bit immersed lately in the wars of Congo, reading of wailing mothers, and dying children…..I feel at times as if I am racing the clock to help them, though I know the change for which I pray will take years – decades. My worldview has been so utterly massive as of late with thoughts of child soldier rehabilitation, African art therapy, and learning the language of Dinka; but in that moment……in that eye gazing, thumb sucking, cuddling and snuggling moment– it all went away. All that mattered was what was right in front of my fingertips. The most precious little boy in the world to me.
Plans gave way to pause, and I wondered……where does purpose really lie. To the mother of this dear one, the most important thing in the world is what I was holding. To me, in a little over a week – it will be going into a remote village of Sudan. But is any ONE purpose less purposeful than another? I think not. Loving is Loving whether that is rocking a one year old to sleep or holding an African child as they cry. Isn’t it all just about Loving God with all of our heart and living accordingly, accepting the gift of His love by letting Him love us, and then learning - day by day - to love all we come in contact with as He would love them?
I frequently hear comments shadowed with inadequacy from my family and friends who feel they are not doing much “with their lives” when they hear stories I share from Africa, Haiti, or the DR. When holding a newborn, thoughts of a warlord rebel capturing children to turn them into soldiers is a foreign concept. But my mind always returns to a hymn that was sung at the church my daddy preached at growing up. I loved it. I sang it – over and over and over….”Follow me.” There is one line that has always spoken to my heart:
"If just a cup of water I place within your hand
Then just a cup of water is all that I demand."
Ironically, the sermon today was on this very topic. It's funny that in a room full of hundreds, it feels as if God has chosen the words specifically for your ears. As I listened, a different version of I Corinthians 13 appeared on the screen. It is the “love” chapter that I mischieviously like to call the “choice” chapter. I do this believing that when the desire to love is removed, then the decision to choose to be loving must take over…..which probably happens more often than naught. This morning, I ran out the door, grabbing a journal I hadn’t written in over a year. As I was writing down the words on the screen, I looked over to the opposite page of my journal. Written OVER A YEAR AGO I see this:
“I Corinthians 13: Love is Patient, Love is Kind, Love does not envy. It does not brag. It is humble. It is thoughtful. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered.."
Wow – does He think I need it so badly that he has to give me a double dose? And then confirm it times two? Yes - I, honestly, don't think I have been doing a good job of this lately. What did it mean to me? It meant this: If God IS love, and Jesus was LOVE personified, and we are to BE like Christ - then what he calls us to do is to love in whatever way and whichever way is set before us. That may be to the man that just brought me my hot tea with cream or maybe to the person I meet on the road tomorrow morning. Maybe that is to the lady who will be watching your child all day or the next door neighbor who grates on your last nerve. That may be to the co-worker who brings to life the definition of “vindictive” or the boss who doesn’t know how to give a compliment. Maybe that is to the spouse of 15 years who doesn’t understand or the child of three who seems to be possessed by Satan : ) The thoughtless roommate, the unfair professor, the elderly lady with her walker in the elevator. Or maybe it is to the child in a small Sudan village who has seen more horror through her eyes than any movie I could rent at blockbuster could portray.
BUT whoever, wherever, or whatever that cup of water looks like....what's most important is realizing that it is HE who has placed it within our hands. And it is in loving that person in the way that he loves us that gives purpose to our lives. To let Him love THROUGH us - what an incredibly humbling thought that is.
Lord, as I watch the fire dance in the covering of the stone fireplace – I think of you and I often wonder…..do you wish to be able to hold us when we need it, smile at us, speak those words verbally that you know we need to hear with our human ears. Do you depend on us to do that for you? Do you hope that for us – to be the words you wish to speak, the hug you wish to give, the smile you wish to share. The song you wish to sing to sweet Emerson…..What song would you sing to him? What words would you give to Emma? How many hugs would you give the homeless? What sort of kindness would you give to our worst enemy? May we be your smile, your touch, your words, your love – personified. May we take that cup of water that you have entrusted us with – (be that a precious brown-eyed baby boy who loves to suck his thumb or a sweet African little girl who lost her mother in the attacks to her village). May we simply be YOU. May we love freely with all of our might – as unto you…..As unto you.
For you are Love and we are
Yours, b
The house was quiet. Emma and I had shared prayers-n-kisses and she was fast asleep. Emerson – not so much. As I rocked him in the chair and sang to him....Him looking at me with that thumb in his mouth. Me looking at him with a smirk of adoration. I had somewhat of a mind spinning moment. A bit immersed lately in the wars of Congo, reading of wailing mothers, and dying children…..I feel at times as if I am racing the clock to help them, though I know the change for which I pray will take years – decades. My worldview has been so utterly massive as of late with thoughts of child soldier rehabilitation, African art therapy, and learning the language of Dinka; but in that moment……in that eye gazing, thumb sucking, cuddling and snuggling moment– it all went away. All that mattered was what was right in front of my fingertips. The most precious little boy in the world to me.
Plans gave way to pause, and I wondered……where does purpose really lie. To the mother of this dear one, the most important thing in the world is what I was holding. To me, in a little over a week – it will be going into a remote village of Sudan. But is any ONE purpose less purposeful than another? I think not. Loving is Loving whether that is rocking a one year old to sleep or holding an African child as they cry. Isn’t it all just about Loving God with all of our heart and living accordingly, accepting the gift of His love by letting Him love us, and then learning - day by day - to love all we come in contact with as He would love them?
I frequently hear comments shadowed with inadequacy from my family and friends who feel they are not doing much “with their lives” when they hear stories I share from Africa, Haiti, or the DR. When holding a newborn, thoughts of a warlord rebel capturing children to turn them into soldiers is a foreign concept. But my mind always returns to a hymn that was sung at the church my daddy preached at growing up. I loved it. I sang it – over and over and over….”Follow me.” There is one line that has always spoken to my heart:
"If just a cup of water I place within your hand
Then just a cup of water is all that I demand."
Ironically, the sermon today was on this very topic. It's funny that in a room full of hundreds, it feels as if God has chosen the words specifically for your ears. As I listened, a different version of I Corinthians 13 appeared on the screen. It is the “love” chapter that I mischieviously like to call the “choice” chapter. I do this believing that when the desire to love is removed, then the decision to choose to be loving must take over…..which probably happens more often than naught. This morning, I ran out the door, grabbing a journal I hadn’t written in over a year. As I was writing down the words on the screen, I looked over to the opposite page of my journal. Written OVER A YEAR AGO I see this:
“I Corinthians 13: Love is Patient, Love is Kind, Love does not envy. It does not brag. It is humble. It is thoughtful. It is not self-seeking. It is not easily angered.."
Wow – does He think I need it so badly that he has to give me a double dose? And then confirm it times two? Yes - I, honestly, don't think I have been doing a good job of this lately. What did it mean to me? It meant this: If God IS love, and Jesus was LOVE personified, and we are to BE like Christ - then what he calls us to do is to love in whatever way and whichever way is set before us. That may be to the man that just brought me my hot tea with cream or maybe to the person I meet on the road tomorrow morning. Maybe that is to the lady who will be watching your child all day or the next door neighbor who grates on your last nerve. That may be to the co-worker who brings to life the definition of “vindictive” or the boss who doesn’t know how to give a compliment. Maybe that is to the spouse of 15 years who doesn’t understand or the child of three who seems to be possessed by Satan : ) The thoughtless roommate, the unfair professor, the elderly lady with her walker in the elevator. Or maybe it is to the child in a small Sudan village who has seen more horror through her eyes than any movie I could rent at blockbuster could portray.
BUT whoever, wherever, or whatever that cup of water looks like....what's most important is realizing that it is HE who has placed it within our hands. And it is in loving that person in the way that he loves us that gives purpose to our lives. To let Him love THROUGH us - what an incredibly humbling thought that is.
Lord, as I watch the fire dance in the covering of the stone fireplace – I think of you and I often wonder…..do you wish to be able to hold us when we need it, smile at us, speak those words verbally that you know we need to hear with our human ears. Do you depend on us to do that for you? Do you hope that for us – to be the words you wish to speak, the hug you wish to give, the smile you wish to share. The song you wish to sing to sweet Emerson…..What song would you sing to him? What words would you give to Emma? How many hugs would you give the homeless? What sort of kindness would you give to our worst enemy? May we be your smile, your touch, your words, your love – personified. May we take that cup of water that you have entrusted us with – (be that a precious brown-eyed baby boy who loves to suck his thumb or a sweet African little girl who lost her mother in the attacks to her village). May we simply be YOU. May we love freely with all of our might – as unto you…..As unto you.
For you are Love and we are
Yours, b
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Voice of Hope
Blanketed by moonlight and shadowed by stars, I read poetry aloud around a campfire a few nights ago.....my body was there, but my mind drifted. I will be leaving in 18 days. In less than three weeks I will return to the continent of my soul - and I remember Congo. I remember the last night we were there, Pastor Kivi said, "You take with you our hearts because we have given them to you. We ask you to leave yours here.....so that you will return one day." He knew. He knew that the fighting, the fleeing that is present today in Congo - now responsible for over 250,000 refugees - would come again. And it did. He knew because he has lived it off and on all of his life. Those we were closest to in Goma are no longer there. They have fled along with the rest of the 250,000 - but, thankfully, in much safer surroundings.
So my drifting led to praying and my praying led to writing and my writing led to reading.......reading past blogs that I wrote just weeks after returning. This one in particular spoke to my heart. If I would have known what the future would have held as I typed this letters making up these words, I dare say I would have shed more tears. Tears that I will no longer (and will unlikely ever) apologize for. Be that on a stage speaking or in Fido telling their stories. Are they not worth my tears? Am I too prideful to shed them? No - not anymore. So I share this with you - to pass along a promise I made in my heart when I left Congo - To Go and To Tell...to tell their stories. To be their voice. And I will.....for their stories are more than worth telling, their hearts more than worth healing, and their lives more than worth saving.
____________________________________________________________________________
The Voice of Hope July 1st, 2008
Sitting outside tonight.... listening to the dogs playing, the tree frogs singing, the train whistling Dixie in the background - I realize many things. Being alone with your thoughts can be a different world. A world that many refuse to go to simply because it is vulnerable, and it is frightening, and it is beautiful. There is revelation there.....I wonder, how can that be a bad thing?
Having the first good run this evening since my return - much was revealed. I felt as if I was symbolically running from something that I could not get away from. Maybe because I wasn't supposed to. I told a friend on Sunday that I felt God had pulled back a curtain while I was in Africa to reveal a different level of hopelessness that I didn't know existed. The type of hopelessness that only Heaven could heal. They cannot really hope for things to get much better....for fear of sounding harsh, I must be real. Will the violence, the violation, the poverty, the corruption stop? Honestly? No. Will it get better? I hope so - I think so - I must believe so. But do they hope for such a thing? They must. But I wonder....
I honestly think they are so worried about survival that they often do not stop to hope. Or maybe they hope cautiously. Or maybe they hope desperately. I think often - they are just focused on Survival - Making it - Keeping their head above water. Pressing On - that takes presidence. But I have realized this: Hope of Heaven is so much sweeter when the reality of life is Hell. Hell is a strong word to use. Maybe I should say "Hellish." Ironically - that was one title of Ben Affleck's documentary about Congo: "They are in a living hell." I thought about that as I was running....in a twisted way, hell is not so hellish if you don't know you are living in it. I think maybe that's how they survive - they know no difference. They don't know what it's like on the OTHER side of the curtain - my side. Rape, Running, Guns, Volcanos Erupting, Abuse, Hunger - that is their reality. That is their stage. And somehow, it is in knowing nothing different that a strange blessing lies. You know the saying, "If you are going through hell, keep on going." Yeah, well - they do. And I hope they continue to.
Heaven will be so much sweeter to them than we could even grasp. Can you imagine? After living in this all of their life and finally getting through it.....finally able to rest in Sweet Peace? Having Him hold them for eternity....as they rest. I only wish I could capture their faces on the other side of the Gate : ) I want to meet them there. Washing their feet for the first 100 years or so - that would be such a blessing.
Lord, they are there and I am here and I confess that I feel I have left them there...in somewhat of a Hell. Here I am in my world of cush and comfort. They are there in their world of pain - not even knowing the degree of pain they are actually living in. Keep them sheltered - strangely, it is in sheltering them that they will become even stronger. Stronger because they have to be. Not being strong simply isn't an option in their world. They know no different and they probably never will. I pray on this silent night that you whisper to them the Voice of Hope. They may not be able to have the hope now of peace - save that of Heaven. But I pray that tonight....as they lay their head down in the midst of a refugee camp, a prison, a rock, a tiny shack of a home....that you give them a glimpse of a 100 year foot washing in the Marvelous Heavenlies. And that they smile. And, in thinking about that, so do you : ) Happy to volunteer as the first-in-line foot washer,
I am
Yours, b
So my drifting led to praying and my praying led to writing and my writing led to reading.......reading past blogs that I wrote just weeks after returning. This one in particular spoke to my heart. If I would have known what the future would have held as I typed this letters making up these words, I dare say I would have shed more tears. Tears that I will no longer (and will unlikely ever) apologize for. Be that on a stage speaking or in Fido telling their stories. Are they not worth my tears? Am I too prideful to shed them? No - not anymore. So I share this with you - to pass along a promise I made in my heart when I left Congo - To Go and To Tell...to tell their stories. To be their voice. And I will.....for their stories are more than worth telling, their hearts more than worth healing, and their lives more than worth saving.
____________________________________________________________________________
The Voice of Hope July 1st, 2008
Sitting outside tonight.... listening to the dogs playing, the tree frogs singing, the train whistling Dixie in the background - I realize many things. Being alone with your thoughts can be a different world. A world that many refuse to go to simply because it is vulnerable, and it is frightening, and it is beautiful. There is revelation there.....I wonder, how can that be a bad thing?
Having the first good run this evening since my return - much was revealed. I felt as if I was symbolically running from something that I could not get away from. Maybe because I wasn't supposed to. I told a friend on Sunday that I felt God had pulled back a curtain while I was in Africa to reveal a different level of hopelessness that I didn't know existed. The type of hopelessness that only Heaven could heal. They cannot really hope for things to get much better....for fear of sounding harsh, I must be real. Will the violence, the violation, the poverty, the corruption stop? Honestly? No. Will it get better? I hope so - I think so - I must believe so. But do they hope for such a thing? They must. But I wonder....
I honestly think they are so worried about survival that they often do not stop to hope. Or maybe they hope cautiously. Or maybe they hope desperately. I think often - they are just focused on Survival - Making it - Keeping their head above water. Pressing On - that takes presidence. But I have realized this: Hope of Heaven is so much sweeter when the reality of life is Hell. Hell is a strong word to use. Maybe I should say "Hellish." Ironically - that was one title of Ben Affleck's documentary about Congo: "They are in a living hell." I thought about that as I was running....in a twisted way, hell is not so hellish if you don't know you are living in it. I think maybe that's how they survive - they know no difference. They don't know what it's like on the OTHER side of the curtain - my side. Rape, Running, Guns, Volcanos Erupting, Abuse, Hunger - that is their reality. That is their stage. And somehow, it is in knowing nothing different that a strange blessing lies. You know the saying, "If you are going through hell, keep on going." Yeah, well - they do. And I hope they continue to.
Heaven will be so much sweeter to them than we could even grasp. Can you imagine? After living in this all of their life and finally getting through it.....finally able to rest in Sweet Peace? Having Him hold them for eternity....as they rest. I only wish I could capture their faces on the other side of the Gate : ) I want to meet them there. Washing their feet for the first 100 years or so - that would be such a blessing.
Lord, they are there and I am here and I confess that I feel I have left them there...in somewhat of a Hell. Here I am in my world of cush and comfort. They are there in their world of pain - not even knowing the degree of pain they are actually living in. Keep them sheltered - strangely, it is in sheltering them that they will become even stronger. Stronger because they have to be. Not being strong simply isn't an option in their world. They know no different and they probably never will. I pray on this silent night that you whisper to them the Voice of Hope. They may not be able to have the hope now of peace - save that of Heaven. But I pray that tonight....as they lay their head down in the midst of a refugee camp, a prison, a rock, a tiny shack of a home....that you give them a glimpse of a 100 year foot washing in the Marvelous Heavenlies. And that they smile. And, in thinking about that, so do you : ) Happy to volunteer as the first-in-line foot washer,
I am
Yours, b
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Watching the Cork
She was there. He was beside her. Side by side in their wheelchairs pushed up close to the edge of the pond at Centennial park. I took a second look as I ran past them on my late night run underneath the moon. It was a strange sight- especially with it being so very late.....but stranger still was the fact that they were Fishing. Yes, Fishing. Poles in hand - side by side. Catching anything? Nope. Let's be honest, if they were to get a bite, the fish would be pulling THEM in : ) So what were they doing? What in the world were they doing there at 9 p.m. at night in their wheelchairs and their fishing poles?
Being with each other. Just being with each other.
Companions. Friends. Partners. Fishing Buddies.
I have been in thought lately about love: What is it? How do you sustain it? What is the "secret?" I have learned that maybe the secret is not merely to love - but it is to LEARN to love WELL. I think that amazing relationships come when women learn to love and understand men well, and men learn to love and understand women well - and when we all do so in the image of the author and perfecter of love......which basically means that true love in its purest form is a golden opportunity to die to self, swallow pride, and to give out of a place of "the sacrifice of the will". When that happens, power struggles begin to lose their grip and what is best for the relationship overrides what is desired at the moment.There is something about a marriage that gives you a unique opportunity to love in the most unselfish and sacrificial way possible. It is truly more precious to be happy than to be right.
And maybe loving isn't about finding someone who makes you feel more loved, complete, or happy. If that were true, then what happens when they stop making you feel loved, complete, or happy? Maybe God's purpose of marriage was much more about finding a partner - a teammate - to serve Him WITH instead of clinging to someone who fills you UP. Maybe it's less about looking AT the other person and looking FOR the cork. Yes, I said the cork (or bobber for those who are not from the country : ). Stay with me.....
Those two wheelchair fishing buddies - I never saw their faces. Never heard their words. But I have kept that image in my mind, and it has spoken much wisdom to me. This is what I have heard. Watch the cork. The purpose of marriage is to find your best friend to serve with, love with, learn from, and fish with.....with the goal of looking outward to the horizon to see how God can use your coupleship to serve Him, His children, or your children. It is not to look to each other for completion or security. Maybe it's to sit beside each other on late moonlit nights, walk beside each other, run along side each other in the loudest of cheers, or sometimes to simply stay with each other......loving.......serving.....watching the cork. Looking TOWARD His plans for you as a ministry team, instead of looking TO each other for happiness.
Having been on both sides of the marriage fence, I certainly don't have all the answers. I have lived and I have learned and I have seen......an elderly couple sitting beside each other in their wheelchairs fishing under the moonlight, and somehow in this world of division - they have given me hope : )
Being with each other. Just being with each other.
Companions. Friends. Partners. Fishing Buddies.
I have been in thought lately about love: What is it? How do you sustain it? What is the "secret?" I have learned that maybe the secret is not merely to love - but it is to LEARN to love WELL. I think that amazing relationships come when women learn to love and understand men well, and men learn to love and understand women well - and when we all do so in the image of the author and perfecter of love......which basically means that true love in its purest form is a golden opportunity to die to self, swallow pride, and to give out of a place of "the sacrifice of the will". When that happens, power struggles begin to lose their grip and what is best for the relationship overrides what is desired at the moment.There is something about a marriage that gives you a unique opportunity to love in the most unselfish and sacrificial way possible. It is truly more precious to be happy than to be right.
And maybe loving isn't about finding someone who makes you feel more loved, complete, or happy. If that were true, then what happens when they stop making you feel loved, complete, or happy? Maybe God's purpose of marriage was much more about finding a partner - a teammate - to serve Him WITH instead of clinging to someone who fills you UP. Maybe it's less about looking AT the other person and looking FOR the cork. Yes, I said the cork (or bobber for those who are not from the country : ). Stay with me.....
Those two wheelchair fishing buddies - I never saw their faces. Never heard their words. But I have kept that image in my mind, and it has spoken much wisdom to me. This is what I have heard. Watch the cork. The purpose of marriage is to find your best friend to serve with, love with, learn from, and fish with.....with the goal of looking outward to the horizon to see how God can use your coupleship to serve Him, His children, or your children. It is not to look to each other for completion or security. Maybe it's to sit beside each other on late moonlit nights, walk beside each other, run along side each other in the loudest of cheers, or sometimes to simply stay with each other......loving.......serving.....watching the cork. Looking TOWARD His plans for you as a ministry team, instead of looking TO each other for happiness.
Having been on both sides of the marriage fence, I certainly don't have all the answers. I have lived and I have learned and I have seen......an elderly couple sitting beside each other in their wheelchairs fishing under the moonlight, and somehow in this world of division - they have given me hope : )
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
i am a fly
I am a fly. I am a fly on the wall. Standing back and watching reactions to broken nest eggs, falling dreams, and bailing outs. And I have seen Fear in it's purest form. As a rule, I try not to speak on topics I know little about. Ignorance is often most blissful when it restrains itself. Most of you know that I don't really have a TV. If I am near one - it's usually involving ESPN or something having to do with a ball. I would much rather be lost in a book or movie or on a blanket next to Walden Pond. But times are a'changin - in more ways than one. I have been drawn to "the box" lately....not to watch the falling of the numbers or the planning of the rescue - but of the reactions. I have listened and I have learned and I have wondered. What is it that we are truly most afraid of? And if the very thing we fear the most comes to pass - will we (as America and as a people) be o.k.? And what does it mean to be "o.k."? There is a great saying I have held to.
"Everything is o.k. in the end and if it's not o.k., it's not the end."
It has given me pause. Coming most recently from a country where wealth is not a real possibility and basic needs have little to do with anything other than food and insecure safety, I look at our world much differently. I have had to. It has given me a different perspective on what we actually need in our lives, and the misconceptions we all buy into regarding what that means. I have a theory - I have many theories. I often talk about what I "saw" in Congo and then what I "learned" in Congo....What I learned is that when people have such limited choices on how they live - they suddenly find a way of being content. They have to. They have no other choice. But (as in our case) if the choices are there and if the options are present - it breeds a Discontentment. Disappointment in self-created expectations rears its ugly head, and Fear is born. When you do not have financial security, then True Wealth must be based on the ability to have little and find contentment. Yes, it is much easier said than done.
Emerson says that if we face the very thing we fear the most it becomes the death of the fear itself. So I say all of that to ask this: What are we really afraid of? Loosing our retirement. Loosing part of our savings. Loosing our ability to pay our bills. Loosing our comfort. What do we REALLY TRULY need to survive as a person, as a people, as a family. If we tangibly lost EVERYTHING, and we had absolutely nothing else but each other - would we still be o.k.? In the end, would everything really be o.k? Would it be what we had hoped for? no. Would it be what we had wished for? no. Would it even be what we thought it would be, planned it would be, dreamed it would be? no. no. and no. But would it be o.k.? In the end......
I am a fly - a fly who watches the world around her in humble thought. Watching as we compare ourselves to each other, stumble up ladders, and climb mountains that never cease to grow. When that which we value and think we cannot live without becomes fragile then Fear comes with it's most gallant of horses. When that which we lean upon for our security or happiness begins to give way, we - naturally - search around for something else to hold on to. It is natural, normal - even wise. You see, its not the leaning that comes into question. It is the thing that we lean upon. Through my long-lived years of mis-living, God has taught me much. He has taught me this: He is the ONLY thing in life that will never cease to exist or go away.....and when He is all we have, He (whether we realize it or even believe it) becomes all we need. It is Him and only Him who we can truly at a core level - Trust.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in the dollar (we proved that when we survived the Great Depression).
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in living the "American Dream" or pursing financial wealth to feed a false sense of security.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in anything you can see, taste, or even touch. It lies in our bond of BEING the people of the United States of America. That is not anything that can be taken away with crashing markets, elected candidates, or even our country going in a direction that we fear......all of those things will happen.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA is based on a bond that started years ago with small talk around a table and dreams around a fire. It is a common thread of living - of liberty - and in pursuing happiness....as a people, as a nation, in our families and in our homes. And if happiness is actually contentment. And true contentment is actually found in surviving on little and still being at peace - then won't we really be "o.k."?
Lord God- in this place of unrest and removal - my heart hears you calling in the strongest of voices.....cutting past the noise of falling numbers and crashing markets. I ask that you blow away the rains of Fear and remove the scales from our eyes as we look upon all that glitters - realizing that it TRULY isn't gold at all. Bless our nation - feed the American Spirit - and remind us that it is in you that we have and do put our Trust.
And Trusting I am,
Yours, b
"Everything is o.k. in the end and if it's not o.k., it's not the end."
It has given me pause. Coming most recently from a country where wealth is not a real possibility and basic needs have little to do with anything other than food and insecure safety, I look at our world much differently. I have had to. It has given me a different perspective on what we actually need in our lives, and the misconceptions we all buy into regarding what that means. I have a theory - I have many theories. I often talk about what I "saw" in Congo and then what I "learned" in Congo....What I learned is that when people have such limited choices on how they live - they suddenly find a way of being content. They have to. They have no other choice. But (as in our case) if the choices are there and if the options are present - it breeds a Discontentment. Disappointment in self-created expectations rears its ugly head, and Fear is born. When you do not have financial security, then True Wealth must be based on the ability to have little and find contentment. Yes, it is much easier said than done.
Emerson says that if we face the very thing we fear the most it becomes the death of the fear itself. So I say all of that to ask this: What are we really afraid of? Loosing our retirement. Loosing part of our savings. Loosing our ability to pay our bills. Loosing our comfort. What do we REALLY TRULY need to survive as a person, as a people, as a family. If we tangibly lost EVERYTHING, and we had absolutely nothing else but each other - would we still be o.k.? In the end, would everything really be o.k? Would it be what we had hoped for? no. Would it be what we had wished for? no. Would it even be what we thought it would be, planned it would be, dreamed it would be? no. no. and no. But would it be o.k.? In the end......
I am a fly - a fly who watches the world around her in humble thought. Watching as we compare ourselves to each other, stumble up ladders, and climb mountains that never cease to grow. When that which we value and think we cannot live without becomes fragile then Fear comes with it's most gallant of horses. When that which we lean upon for our security or happiness begins to give way, we - naturally - search around for something else to hold on to. It is natural, normal - even wise. You see, its not the leaning that comes into question. It is the thing that we lean upon. Through my long-lived years of mis-living, God has taught me much. He has taught me this: He is the ONLY thing in life that will never cease to exist or go away.....and when He is all we have, He (whether we realize it or even believe it) becomes all we need. It is Him and only Him who we can truly at a core level - Trust.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in the dollar (we proved that when we survived the Great Depression).
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in living the "American Dream" or pursing financial wealth to feed a false sense of security.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA does not lie in anything you can see, taste, or even touch. It lies in our bond of BEING the people of the United States of America. That is not anything that can be taken away with crashing markets, elected candidates, or even our country going in a direction that we fear......all of those things will happen.
The SPIRIT OF AMERICA is based on a bond that started years ago with small talk around a table and dreams around a fire. It is a common thread of living - of liberty - and in pursuing happiness....as a people, as a nation, in our families and in our homes. And if happiness is actually contentment. And true contentment is actually found in surviving on little and still being at peace - then won't we really be "o.k."?
Lord God- in this place of unrest and removal - my heart hears you calling in the strongest of voices.....cutting past the noise of falling numbers and crashing markets. I ask that you blow away the rains of Fear and remove the scales from our eyes as we look upon all that glitters - realizing that it TRULY isn't gold at all. Bless our nation - feed the American Spirit - and remind us that it is in you that we have and do put our Trust.
And Trusting I am,
Yours, b
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Chocolate Covered Bricks
“I know I am in the shadow of His wings,” She mumbled under her breath.
“Say it again.” I whispered.
“I hate you,” She said as her eyes started to fill with tears. “That’s ok. Say it again.” I said, kindly.
“I know I am in the shadow of His wings.”
“Again” I whispered.
Tears finding their way down her cheeks. She hesitated. Looking at me as if she could bore a hole in me with her eyes.
“I know I am in the shadow of His wings.” Eyes closed. Crying now. Beginning to let herself believe the very words that she had fought so hard against. Words she knew to be true in her mind, though her broken heart wanted nothing to do with it. I wished at that moment I could see with Spiritual Eyes - to see His symbolic wing coming around the corner to comfort her.
“Once more….”
Sighing as if she had finally surrendered. Breathing softly now as if she were covered.
Wiping the tears away. “I know I am in the shadow of His wings.”
Its been years now….she started with unintentionally mentioning how better she had felt that week because she read something that reminded her: That she was in the shadow of His wings. She said it flippantly and quickly – sliding it in front of me and hoping I wouldn’t bite. I did.
I seem to be in the midst of many lately who don’t know what to do with God. They either don’t know if He exists, don’t know if they trust or believe in Him, or, honestly, simply don’t like Him very much (or maybe they confused the Heart of God with the Humanness of His children. Maybe it is US they don’t like very much : ). I am convinced that when we feel a distance from God, it is either because we are upset (disappointed, angry, confused, or disgusted) with Him OR we feel He is upset (disappointed, angry, or disgusted) with us. On one side of the wall you will find us hiding in our shame. On the other side you can see us pouting in our anger, frozen in our bitterness, or simply confused because we can’t make all the pieces fit..when maybe they aren’t supposed to.
During the greatest times of distance from God, I can often visualize us surrounded by bricks and mortar. Building up the wall between our selves and the heavens. Brick by Brick. Bitterness built on shame, anger mixed with disappointment, guilt stacked on confusion. We build and we build and we build. Later feeling this distance between our selves and our Creator and not understanding why we are so exhausted from our fabulous mortaring abilities. We either BLAME Him because He did not answer our prayers in the way we wish they would have been answered, or we HIDE from Him - being immersed in the thoughts that He is disappointed with us. The funny thing is that if we didn’t love Him – we would actually care less to think that He didn’t love us back. Often we think we don’t believe in Him when really we just don’t think He believes in us - or maybe we don't believe in ourselves. We all know one of the worst things is that look of disappointment from our Father.
But what I have realized is this. Just as there is no way I can STOP being my mother’s daughter (biologically - it is simply impossible). In the same way (times infinity), I can never STOP being my Father’s Child. Nothing I can ever ever do could make me any less the daughter of my Lord. Nothing you could ever struggle with, nothing in your past, nothing in your present could ever make you LESS His son. It simply could never happen. Never. Impossible. Nothing we could ever do could ever make Him love us less. While Salvation is conditional, Love is not. But we don’t realize that – so what do we do? We build. We stack. We wall ourselves inside The Wall of Shame.
What happens when we don’t like ourselves? We look away – hoping everyone else will too. What happens when we are caught up in something that we are ashamed of? We hide our nakedness behind the trees of the garden. What happens when there is something that happened long ago that we can’t accept forgiveness for? We, in the secret places of our hearts, constantly feel small and ashamed. Funny - the LAST place we want to be is the VERY place He desires us to rest: In the shadow of His wings. You see, in God’s infinite wisdom, He actually designed the end result of sin to bring us closer to His heart rather than further away from it. When we sin, God’s ultimate desire is that we come before Him…kneeling at His feet….asking for forgiveness. But more importantly, asking Him to teach us from our failings – ultimately to be chiseled away to look more and more like Him as we grow. But, often, instead of choosing to kneel, we choose to run. Far away. Tucked behind the leaves of shame. Hiding. Covering our face with our hands. Covering our ears as His whispers become beckonings….
”Come, my child. Come let me love you. Come let me teach you. Come let me hold you. Come. ”
And what about the other side of the wall? Lets call this one: Anger. We trusted Him. We believed in Him. We bought into what we thought were the “lies” of “all things are possible with God – He will take care of our every need – He will give us the desires of our hearts - We can do all things through Christ”. But what happens when you can’t? What happens when she has cancer and you prayed for healing, but she dies? What happens when you pray for your marriage to be saved and it isn’t? What happens when those you trust end up hurting you beyond repair? When you actually CAN’T pay your bills, when you have disappointment after disappointment and you pray for the Lord to take the pain away, but He doesn’t. What then? Often…….we go into the Masonry business. Suddenly having a fondness for the feeling of a brick in the palm of our hands. Dipping it into chocolate as to make it appear sweeter than it is. Dare I say – justified? Slowly, as we build, being shadowed by the wall of distance rather than the shadow of His wings. Brick by brick – we isolate ourselves and distance ourselves from the only true sense of Soul Warmth we possess. Why? Because we simply, painfully, and in all of our justified disappointment …….didn’t get what we wanted and aren’t receiving what we wished - even with the best intentions and purest of hearts. We were not granted what we so desired. His answer was nothing we had hoped for and everything we hated. And so in our anger and bitterness and resentment, in our feelings of “if He LOVED me He would GRANT me” syndome…..we spend our time stacking bricks and building walls rather than tearing them down with the strength of Humility and learning the Art of Accepting Not-Understanding.
She said she hated me. She was adamant about it. Why? Because she was not unlike many of us…. In being forced to tear down her Wall of Shame and Anger that she had so painstakingly handcrafted between she and her Lord; she was forced to Ultimately and INTIMATELY look into the eyes of Her Creator – Her Savior – Her Lord. Just a girl and her God. He – melting her shame away by His Grace-filled eyes. She – putting her anger aside in exchange for a Trust of the Infinite she did not completely understand. Amends Made. Forgiveness Accepted. Graceful Immersion. Love Allowed. Walking away amidst the rubble of broken clay, cluttered confusion, and scattered shame. Walls down – Hand in Hand – Bricks Broken. She was – In His Shadow once again.
(Yes, permission was granted, and no HIPPA laws were broken : )
“Say it again.” I whispered.
“I hate you,” She said as her eyes started to fill with tears. “That’s ok. Say it again.” I said, kindly.
“I know I am in the shadow of His wings.”
“Again” I whispered.
Tears finding their way down her cheeks. She hesitated. Looking at me as if she could bore a hole in me with her eyes.
“I know I am in the shadow of His wings.” Eyes closed. Crying now. Beginning to let herself believe the very words that she had fought so hard against. Words she knew to be true in her mind, though her broken heart wanted nothing to do with it. I wished at that moment I could see with Spiritual Eyes - to see His symbolic wing coming around the corner to comfort her.
“Once more….”
Sighing as if she had finally surrendered. Breathing softly now as if she were covered.
Wiping the tears away. “I know I am in the shadow of His wings.”
Its been years now….she started with unintentionally mentioning how better she had felt that week because she read something that reminded her: That she was in the shadow of His wings. She said it flippantly and quickly – sliding it in front of me and hoping I wouldn’t bite. I did.
I seem to be in the midst of many lately who don’t know what to do with God. They either don’t know if He exists, don’t know if they trust or believe in Him, or, honestly, simply don’t like Him very much (or maybe they confused the Heart of God with the Humanness of His children. Maybe it is US they don’t like very much : ). I am convinced that when we feel a distance from God, it is either because we are upset (disappointed, angry, confused, or disgusted) with Him OR we feel He is upset (disappointed, angry, or disgusted) with us. On one side of the wall you will find us hiding in our shame. On the other side you can see us pouting in our anger, frozen in our bitterness, or simply confused because we can’t make all the pieces fit..when maybe they aren’t supposed to.
During the greatest times of distance from God, I can often visualize us surrounded by bricks and mortar. Building up the wall between our selves and the heavens. Brick by Brick. Bitterness built on shame, anger mixed with disappointment, guilt stacked on confusion. We build and we build and we build. Later feeling this distance between our selves and our Creator and not understanding why we are so exhausted from our fabulous mortaring abilities. We either BLAME Him because He did not answer our prayers in the way we wish they would have been answered, or we HIDE from Him - being immersed in the thoughts that He is disappointed with us. The funny thing is that if we didn’t love Him – we would actually care less to think that He didn’t love us back. Often we think we don’t believe in Him when really we just don’t think He believes in us - or maybe we don't believe in ourselves. We all know one of the worst things is that look of disappointment from our Father.
But what I have realized is this. Just as there is no way I can STOP being my mother’s daughter (biologically - it is simply impossible). In the same way (times infinity), I can never STOP being my Father’s Child. Nothing I can ever ever do could make me any less the daughter of my Lord. Nothing you could ever struggle with, nothing in your past, nothing in your present could ever make you LESS His son. It simply could never happen. Never. Impossible. Nothing we could ever do could ever make Him love us less. While Salvation is conditional, Love is not. But we don’t realize that – so what do we do? We build. We stack. We wall ourselves inside The Wall of Shame.
What happens when we don’t like ourselves? We look away – hoping everyone else will too. What happens when we are caught up in something that we are ashamed of? We hide our nakedness behind the trees of the garden. What happens when there is something that happened long ago that we can’t accept forgiveness for? We, in the secret places of our hearts, constantly feel small and ashamed. Funny - the LAST place we want to be is the VERY place He desires us to rest: In the shadow of His wings. You see, in God’s infinite wisdom, He actually designed the end result of sin to bring us closer to His heart rather than further away from it. When we sin, God’s ultimate desire is that we come before Him…kneeling at His feet….asking for forgiveness. But more importantly, asking Him to teach us from our failings – ultimately to be chiseled away to look more and more like Him as we grow. But, often, instead of choosing to kneel, we choose to run. Far away. Tucked behind the leaves of shame. Hiding. Covering our face with our hands. Covering our ears as His whispers become beckonings….
”Come, my child. Come let me love you. Come let me teach you. Come let me hold you. Come. ”
And what about the other side of the wall? Lets call this one: Anger. We trusted Him. We believed in Him. We bought into what we thought were the “lies” of “all things are possible with God – He will take care of our every need – He will give us the desires of our hearts - We can do all things through Christ”. But what happens when you can’t? What happens when she has cancer and you prayed for healing, but she dies? What happens when you pray for your marriage to be saved and it isn’t? What happens when those you trust end up hurting you beyond repair? When you actually CAN’T pay your bills, when you have disappointment after disappointment and you pray for the Lord to take the pain away, but He doesn’t. What then? Often…….we go into the Masonry business. Suddenly having a fondness for the feeling of a brick in the palm of our hands. Dipping it into chocolate as to make it appear sweeter than it is. Dare I say – justified? Slowly, as we build, being shadowed by the wall of distance rather than the shadow of His wings. Brick by brick – we isolate ourselves and distance ourselves from the only true sense of Soul Warmth we possess. Why? Because we simply, painfully, and in all of our justified disappointment …….didn’t get what we wanted and aren’t receiving what we wished - even with the best intentions and purest of hearts. We were not granted what we so desired. His answer was nothing we had hoped for and everything we hated. And so in our anger and bitterness and resentment, in our feelings of “if He LOVED me He would GRANT me” syndome…..we spend our time stacking bricks and building walls rather than tearing them down with the strength of Humility and learning the Art of Accepting Not-Understanding.
She said she hated me. She was adamant about it. Why? Because she was not unlike many of us…. In being forced to tear down her Wall of Shame and Anger that she had so painstakingly handcrafted between she and her Lord; she was forced to Ultimately and INTIMATELY look into the eyes of Her Creator – Her Savior – Her Lord. Just a girl and her God. He – melting her shame away by His Grace-filled eyes. She – putting her anger aside in exchange for a Trust of the Infinite she did not completely understand. Amends Made. Forgiveness Accepted. Graceful Immersion. Love Allowed. Walking away amidst the rubble of broken clay, cluttered confusion, and scattered shame. Walls down – Hand in Hand – Bricks Broken. She was – In His Shadow once again.
(Yes, permission was granted, and no HIPPA laws were broken : )
Friday, August 29, 2008
Looking Darkness In The Eye
By request, I decided to re-post this blog specifically for this weekend and next week. As most of you know, there are a handful of powerful opportunities over the next week to learn more about how to get involved in the needs of Africa. From Falling Whistles presentations, Dry Tears talks, and LABOR OF LOVE. I have posted all of them on my page and would encourage you to check it out.
Speaking for myself, I cannot close my eyes to it all any longer believing that I cannot make a difference. Below is a blog I wrote upon my recent return from Congo. I would be honored for you to take the time to read it - and join me in the fight. Much Love - b
__________________________________________________________
What do you do when you look darkness in the eye? What is our natural reaction? Ill tell you. We look away. We look very far away. Why? It makes us feel uncomfortable. It makes us feel uneasy….even disturbed. I have only been back home from Congo a few days – and I can easily say that, on many levels, I have looked darkness in the eye. From that deep gaze have come many thoughts and questions. Many of which I will not share – some of which I will. The most important one is this: What am I to do with all of this? I think over my experiences – the stories shared, the sights seen, the tears cried – and I ask Him: What would you have me to do with this? I think about the child soldier at the orphanage asking me in his broken English if I would be his “father” (wishing to ask me to be his mother, but getting his words mixed up), I think about the mother I sat with whose baby was literally snatched from her by the rebels as she ran away from her village, I think about the hollow eyes of the little 6 year old boy who had witnessed something so tragic that he has disengaged from reality around him, I think about the 60% of women in the Congo who have been raped……the women trying to give us their children……the refugees (IDPs) in the camps whose food supplies have been cut in half. Darkness. Heaviness. Twisted as it is - this is their normal. Though their trials overwhelm me, I am equally amazed at their strength….at their smiles. Their joyful worship. I recall the children at the refugee camp who had gathered plastic bags to wrap around and around, tying it with strings to eventually form a home-aid soccer ball. Resilience. The widows who have 6-7 children of their own (and taking care of 2-3 other orphans) who have started their own business of selling flour made from tree roots so all of them may eat each day. Persistence. I think about the laughter of the girls at the orphanage after showing them how to blow bubbles and then to chase them. Joy. I think about the smiles on the faces of the refugee women as they left the conference after learning - for the first time - how to begin healing from their heart wounds. And then I remember back to the first few days…..the feeling I had of smallness. Feeling so small compared to the size of their pain and questioning if I could make a difference at all. It was so much bigger than I was. SO much bigger than I was. I think about these things: seeing their faces, remembering their stories – and I ask Him: Lord, what do I do with it all?
This is my answer…
I will do something. Some Thing. There is much I cannot do. I cannot stop the violence, violation, starvation, or government corruption. But I will not let that stop what I Can do: Some Thing. I will see the fact that I am here and they are there as a responsibility – and now that I know - I am even more responsible. I will resist the temptation to place my knowledge in a target bag and cram it under the bed, pretending that these things don’t go on, just because it makes me uncomfortable - even disturbed. Yes, I am tempted – but not tempted enough. “I don’t see how you can do it….how you can hear that….how you can help.” I hear that often. My answer: If they can go through it – survive it – how can I not? How can I not merely sit with them in it for a little while, grieve for them, pray for them, give them just the seeds of healing? No, I will not feel small. I will feel ….I will Feel. I will be courageous enough to sit with it in prayer, asking how God may make baskets of bread out of the tiny loaves I hand Him. That may be as small as sponsoring an orphan to make sure (first and foremost) they will live and die knowing the Lord as their Savior – and then being fed and clothed along the way Home; or large enough as developing a trauma counseling curriculum to be used with the War-Torn Children of Africa. Regardless – I will do something. I ask you to courageously join me. We all have our gifts to be used in different ways to make some sort of difference. But may we not see the gravity of the problem as a means to tuck our gifts away in the “it won’t make a difference” corner. Because it will. It simply will.
He teaches me….In the strangest ways He teaches me. For example, let’s just say in a 3 year old autistic little Kenyan boy who sat next to me on the plane ride home, after 2 weeks of Wonderful Weariness and being used by the Lord more than I deserve to be. My mind racing trying to wrap my head around what I have witnessed and heard. Realizing that maybe the problem is that my head is getting in the way. He and I are looking out the window at the beautiful clouds, seemingly hovering at 20,000 feet above the ground, and he starts to repeat something that sounded oh so familiar to my heart. Something that I seem to have been repeating to myself in the few weeks before - over and over again in my head. Something profound. Looking at the universe outside the small window of plastic, he started saying this: “It is bigger than we are……It is bigger than we are….It is ….It is….bigger than we are.”
Eyes glazed over with the feeling of disbelief and the beginning of tears. I looked at him and knew….God speaking through the mouth of a babe. “Yes,” I said, “Yes, it is.” I looked away and I smiled a little. Wanting to look up in the sky – as if I were actually closer to Him up there – to say, “Thank You. It IS so much bigger than we are, isn’t it?…..the heavens. The Heaven. And so is Life - SO much bigger than we are, but the beauty is that so are You. And Y O U are in the middle of it all. Not on the outside looking in. Not sitting in your rocking chair shaking your head in disbelief. No – you are not us….but you are IN us. WITH us….through our tears, through our violation, through our orphaned journey, through our loss….you are not hiding. You are in the midst. And the hope of Heaven (especially for these hurting ones) is Bigger than it all. So maybe the question is not, where are you in all of this? I know, now, where you are: You are on the battlefield. Maybe the question is, ‘Where are we?’”
Speaking for myself, I cannot close my eyes to it all any longer believing that I cannot make a difference. Below is a blog I wrote upon my recent return from Congo. I would be honored for you to take the time to read it - and join me in the fight. Much Love - b
__________________________________________________________
What do you do when you look darkness in the eye? What is our natural reaction? Ill tell you. We look away. We look very far away. Why? It makes us feel uncomfortable. It makes us feel uneasy….even disturbed. I have only been back home from Congo a few days – and I can easily say that, on many levels, I have looked darkness in the eye. From that deep gaze have come many thoughts and questions. Many of which I will not share – some of which I will. The most important one is this: What am I to do with all of this? I think over my experiences – the stories shared, the sights seen, the tears cried – and I ask Him: What would you have me to do with this? I think about the child soldier at the orphanage asking me in his broken English if I would be his “father” (wishing to ask me to be his mother, but getting his words mixed up), I think about the mother I sat with whose baby was literally snatched from her by the rebels as she ran away from her village, I think about the hollow eyes of the little 6 year old boy who had witnessed something so tragic that he has disengaged from reality around him, I think about the 60% of women in the Congo who have been raped……the women trying to give us their children……the refugees (IDPs) in the camps whose food supplies have been cut in half. Darkness. Heaviness. Twisted as it is - this is their normal. Though their trials overwhelm me, I am equally amazed at their strength….at their smiles. Their joyful worship. I recall the children at the refugee camp who had gathered plastic bags to wrap around and around, tying it with strings to eventually form a home-aid soccer ball. Resilience. The widows who have 6-7 children of their own (and taking care of 2-3 other orphans) who have started their own business of selling flour made from tree roots so all of them may eat each day. Persistence. I think about the laughter of the girls at the orphanage after showing them how to blow bubbles and then to chase them. Joy. I think about the smiles on the faces of the refugee women as they left the conference after learning - for the first time - how to begin healing from their heart wounds. And then I remember back to the first few days…..the feeling I had of smallness. Feeling so small compared to the size of their pain and questioning if I could make a difference at all. It was so much bigger than I was. SO much bigger than I was. I think about these things: seeing their faces, remembering their stories – and I ask Him: Lord, what do I do with it all?
This is my answer…
I will do something. Some Thing. There is much I cannot do. I cannot stop the violence, violation, starvation, or government corruption. But I will not let that stop what I Can do: Some Thing. I will see the fact that I am here and they are there as a responsibility – and now that I know - I am even more responsible. I will resist the temptation to place my knowledge in a target bag and cram it under the bed, pretending that these things don’t go on, just because it makes me uncomfortable - even disturbed. Yes, I am tempted – but not tempted enough. “I don’t see how you can do it….how you can hear that….how you can help.” I hear that often. My answer: If they can go through it – survive it – how can I not? How can I not merely sit with them in it for a little while, grieve for them, pray for them, give them just the seeds of healing? No, I will not feel small. I will feel ….I will Feel. I will be courageous enough to sit with it in prayer, asking how God may make baskets of bread out of the tiny loaves I hand Him. That may be as small as sponsoring an orphan to make sure (first and foremost) they will live and die knowing the Lord as their Savior – and then being fed and clothed along the way Home; or large enough as developing a trauma counseling curriculum to be used with the War-Torn Children of Africa. Regardless – I will do something. I ask you to courageously join me. We all have our gifts to be used in different ways to make some sort of difference. But may we not see the gravity of the problem as a means to tuck our gifts away in the “it won’t make a difference” corner. Because it will. It simply will.
He teaches me….In the strangest ways He teaches me. For example, let’s just say in a 3 year old autistic little Kenyan boy who sat next to me on the plane ride home, after 2 weeks of Wonderful Weariness and being used by the Lord more than I deserve to be. My mind racing trying to wrap my head around what I have witnessed and heard. Realizing that maybe the problem is that my head is getting in the way. He and I are looking out the window at the beautiful clouds, seemingly hovering at 20,000 feet above the ground, and he starts to repeat something that sounded oh so familiar to my heart. Something that I seem to have been repeating to myself in the few weeks before - over and over again in my head. Something profound. Looking at the universe outside the small window of plastic, he started saying this: “It is bigger than we are……It is bigger than we are….It is ….It is….bigger than we are.”
Eyes glazed over with the feeling of disbelief and the beginning of tears. I looked at him and knew….God speaking through the mouth of a babe. “Yes,” I said, “Yes, it is.” I looked away and I smiled a little. Wanting to look up in the sky – as if I were actually closer to Him up there – to say, “Thank You. It IS so much bigger than we are, isn’t it?…..the heavens. The Heaven. And so is Life - SO much bigger than we are, but the beauty is that so are You. And Y O U are in the middle of it all. Not on the outside looking in. Not sitting in your rocking chair shaking your head in disbelief. No – you are not us….but you are IN us. WITH us….through our tears, through our violation, through our orphaned journey, through our loss….you are not hiding. You are in the midst. And the hope of Heaven (especially for these hurting ones) is Bigger than it all. So maybe the question is not, where are you in all of this? I know, now, where you are: You are on the battlefield. Maybe the question is, ‘Where are we?’”
Thursday, August 21, 2008
She Took My Hand
She took my hand as we walked in the middle of the dry creek, trees shading us from the sun. "How will I know?" she asked. I paused. "I want to build a zoo when I grow up, Aunt B, how will I know if God wants me to?"
"Well, we just pray and ask God to help us make the best decisions we know how to make, we ask wise Godly people for advice, read His word......and we just try to do what we think God would want us to do."
"Do you think He will want me to build a zoo?"
"I don't know, darlin"
Haley (8) and I were taking a moment to just talk in between shots of our professional family pictures today. Those sweet precious moments that you want to frame in a picture....wishing them to come alive with a blink of the eye 20 years from now.
"But how will I know what He wants? How will I KNOW for sure."
Funny how they ask us questions we have not the answers to- looking at us as if we have them all. H O N E S T Y .... it's beautiful. It's hurtful. It's confusing. It's right.
"Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we pray, and we read, and we talk to others to help us make good decisions, but sometimes we don't know for sure. We just have to make our decisions based on what we think is most pleasing to Him, but sometimes we don't know for sure. Either way, He's there to help us."
Then it came......"Well will you help me? Will you help me find out?" That precious girl. The running saying in our family is that we all want to be Haley when we grow up. Her heart....oh, her heart.
"Yes, baby, I will help you."
This is my birthday week. 36 on Thursday. Last year at this time, I remembering saying a prayer to God and surrendering the last part of my dreams to Him. Knowing that much of what I had dreamed for had been lost - knowing that what I thought I could not live without, I may be forced to find a way to. Also knowing that surrender and sacrifice were the purest forms of Love. The last of my dreams.....my dreams. MY dreams: Those things we wish for ourselves and our lives and our futures. Painting the picture in our minds of what we feel we must have to be happy, and rarely even considering actually handing the paintbrush over to the One who Creates Best.
I have learned this: Its simply not about us. Its not about you. Its not about me. Its about Him. Those things we fret and fear and ring our hands in worry over in attempts to make the perfect decision are often not those things we should be fretting over at all. Maybe what we should most be contemplating is how we can look more and more like Him as we awaken each morning, as opposed to how we can twist and turn life to make it look more as we wish it to be. Maybe those things we fret over are actually one event in a lifetime of events that ultimately lead us to His feet. Maybe we simply don't know .... and maybe.....thats ok. For in not knowing, what we ultimately realize is that door number one and door number two can lead us to the same place: closer to His heart - just different journeys. And isn't becoming closer to His heart what He most desires anyway?
"The greatest commandment....love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might."
We walked back to where everyone was standing. She quickly lost her blank stare of "turning wheels" and replaced it with a smile after joining her sister and her cousin.
As she ran to them, I thought, "Sometimes distractions are a sweet perspective."
Sometimes we just don't know the definite answers. And sometimes that's ok. And, just maybe, if we allow building a zoo (or not building a zoo) to lead us closer to His heart ...... then, maybe, that's all we need to know : )
"Well, we just pray and ask God to help us make the best decisions we know how to make, we ask wise Godly people for advice, read His word......and we just try to do what we think God would want us to do."
"Do you think He will want me to build a zoo?"
"I don't know, darlin"
Haley (8) and I were taking a moment to just talk in between shots of our professional family pictures today. Those sweet precious moments that you want to frame in a picture....wishing them to come alive with a blink of the eye 20 years from now.
"But how will I know what He wants? How will I KNOW for sure."
Funny how they ask us questions we have not the answers to- looking at us as if we have them all. H O N E S T Y .... it's beautiful. It's hurtful. It's confusing. It's right.
"Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we pray, and we read, and we talk to others to help us make good decisions, but sometimes we don't know for sure. We just have to make our decisions based on what we think is most pleasing to Him, but sometimes we don't know for sure. Either way, He's there to help us."
Then it came......"Well will you help me? Will you help me find out?" That precious girl. The running saying in our family is that we all want to be Haley when we grow up. Her heart....oh, her heart.
"Yes, baby, I will help you."
This is my birthday week. 36 on Thursday. Last year at this time, I remembering saying a prayer to God and surrendering the last part of my dreams to Him. Knowing that much of what I had dreamed for had been lost - knowing that what I thought I could not live without, I may be forced to find a way to. Also knowing that surrender and sacrifice were the purest forms of Love. The last of my dreams.....my dreams. MY dreams: Those things we wish for ourselves and our lives and our futures. Painting the picture in our minds of what we feel we must have to be happy, and rarely even considering actually handing the paintbrush over to the One who Creates Best.
I have learned this: Its simply not about us. Its not about you. Its not about me. Its about Him. Those things we fret and fear and ring our hands in worry over in attempts to make the perfect decision are often not those things we should be fretting over at all. Maybe what we should most be contemplating is how we can look more and more like Him as we awaken each morning, as opposed to how we can twist and turn life to make it look more as we wish it to be. Maybe those things we fret over are actually one event in a lifetime of events that ultimately lead us to His feet. Maybe we simply don't know .... and maybe.....thats ok. For in not knowing, what we ultimately realize is that door number one and door number two can lead us to the same place: closer to His heart - just different journeys. And isn't becoming closer to His heart what He most desires anyway?
"The greatest commandment....love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might."
We walked back to where everyone was standing. She quickly lost her blank stare of "turning wheels" and replaced it with a smile after joining her sister and her cousin.
As she ran to them, I thought, "Sometimes distractions are a sweet perspective."
Sometimes we just don't know the definite answers. And sometimes that's ok. And, just maybe, if we allow building a zoo (or not building a zoo) to lead us closer to His heart ...... then, maybe, that's all we need to know : )
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Racing the Run
Funny how so many revelations come on my runs. I have started to call it "escaping into my think tank". Me. My shoes. Centennial Park - and God. We make a good team, I think. Long day at work ended w/ a 3 mile run at sunset. Refreshment to the mind. Lap one, I pass the stage and hear the actors practicing for the upcoming "Shakespeare in the Park". I hear,
"Good Ladies, let us depart.....This has been a wondrous evening!"
My mind goes back to the conversation last night with my sister who was trying to teach me to use my new blackberry. I am fighting it. Holding on to authenticity to the death. The sounds of Shakespeare intertwined with thoughts of PDAs don't mix in my mind. Two worlds colliding. Whatever happened to the marriage of the quill with the ink soaking into the paper of papyrus. Oh, to live in those days. I am longing for Walden's Pond lately..... escaping Chaos .... searching for Simplicity.
I continue running along with my thoughts as I pass an African American couple holding hands, laughing in the shadow of love. Her perfume overshadows my sweat, and I am thankful. Yet, admittedly, a bit envious. Envious of the "couple-ship" before me. The obvious love.
"I wonder.....what would it be like to be you right now?"
I run on - lost in Bebo Norman. Thinking about tears and why we are so afraid of them. I pass a homeless man in a wheelchair. Lame. He has pushed himself as far as possible to the sidewalk without touching the concrete. He and his tainted legs. He looks at me running past him as if to say,
"I wonder.....what would it be like to be you right now?"
I close my eyes for a few seconds to blink back the tears, almost - no, truly - feeling guilty for unknowingly flaunting my abilities in front of him. My heart hurts. Yet I run on.
Hearing the songs of music from "Dancing in the Park" in the background now. The pink sunset falls as a canvas for the backdrop of the Parthenon. Beautiful. I come up upon three precious grey haired ladies almost leaning into each other as if mesmerized. Standing. Silently. So still. As if the young people dancing before them are an aroma they are breathing in. As if to say,
"I wonder.....what would it be like to be your right now?"
Still running, my mind starts to look around at what is before me. A man with a dog looking at the ducks in the water...wondering what it would be like to have fins on his feet. The duck looking back at the dog wondering what it would be like to have such a beautiful coat. The water looking at the land wondering what it would be like to feel the grass growing up from its roots. The grass looking at the water wondering what if feels like to be fluid.
The push. The pull. The ebb. The flow.
The Cancer of Comparison. Surrounding us. Eating at us. Natural as it may be - it still kills.
A captivating man said recently, "When you are the most YOU - you become the person you were created most to be. It is then that we begin to FIT in our own SPOT.....The only way to break out of other people's lives it to go to God and ask Him who we are"
I agree. It is by comparing the fingerprints God has placed on us with others, wishing to be more like someone else, wanting to be better than, bigger than, skinnier than, richer than, or just as good as......that we actually begin to disrespect His creation. There is only one me. There is only one you. There will never ever in the history of the universe be, nor has there ever been another you. Be that person. Find that person. Live in that person to the death.
And I wonder. What would it be like if we starting only comparing ourselves to the person we saw in the mirror each day? Having our only wish as becoming the best version of that person we can be. The only goal of simply becoming more LIKE Him.....for the purpose of being used more BY Him.....having the hopes of only pleasing HIM. No one else. Just Him. Being healthy because we encompass His spirit. Being financially stable to be used of His service. Feeling pretty because He sees us as such. Measuring success merely by how well we are living His purpose. What would happen if our only measuring stick was the Cross and our only Mirror was His eyes? My, how tall we would stand! Not out of our own glory - but out of His Grace. Unique in our one-of- a kind mold. Separate and apart in our own extinct shadow. We are one. We are only.
Train whistles overhead as I return to my car. God appropriately seems to seal many of my "thought journeys" with a train whistle. He is awesome like that.
Drenched with the sweat of humidity. Needing a cool breeze, I reach for my key to turn on the car. Oh, yeah - no AC. I smile. And I think of Paul.
"I have learned in whatever situation I am in - to be content."
I have learned. Funny, he didn't say I have discovered. Nor was he hit on the head with an apple falling from a tree in Centennial Park. He learned. Day by day. Week by week. Year by year....He l e a r n e d contentment. Refusing to compare himself to others. Refusing to live in discontentment or in want. He learned. Priceless.
Lord - teach us. Help us to refuse to compare ourselves to anyone other than the unique creation you have made within us. Remind us to look into no one else's eyes for our worth save that of your own. And may we look deeply. And may we be filled.
For we are, uniquely, Yours.....
b
"Good Ladies, let us depart.....This has been a wondrous evening!"
My mind goes back to the conversation last night with my sister who was trying to teach me to use my new blackberry. I am fighting it. Holding on to authenticity to the death. The sounds of Shakespeare intertwined with thoughts of PDAs don't mix in my mind. Two worlds colliding. Whatever happened to the marriage of the quill with the ink soaking into the paper of papyrus. Oh, to live in those days. I am longing for Walden's Pond lately..... escaping Chaos .... searching for Simplicity.
I continue running along with my thoughts as I pass an African American couple holding hands, laughing in the shadow of love. Her perfume overshadows my sweat, and I am thankful. Yet, admittedly, a bit envious. Envious of the "couple-ship" before me. The obvious love.
"I wonder.....what would it be like to be you right now?"
I run on - lost in Bebo Norman. Thinking about tears and why we are so afraid of them. I pass a homeless man in a wheelchair. Lame. He has pushed himself as far as possible to the sidewalk without touching the concrete. He and his tainted legs. He looks at me running past him as if to say,
"I wonder.....what would it be like to be you right now?"
I close my eyes for a few seconds to blink back the tears, almost - no, truly - feeling guilty for unknowingly flaunting my abilities in front of him. My heart hurts. Yet I run on.
Hearing the songs of music from "Dancing in the Park" in the background now. The pink sunset falls as a canvas for the backdrop of the Parthenon. Beautiful. I come up upon three precious grey haired ladies almost leaning into each other as if mesmerized. Standing. Silently. So still. As if the young people dancing before them are an aroma they are breathing in. As if to say,
"I wonder.....what would it be like to be your right now?"
Still running, my mind starts to look around at what is before me. A man with a dog looking at the ducks in the water...wondering what it would be like to have fins on his feet. The duck looking back at the dog wondering what it would be like to have such a beautiful coat. The water looking at the land wondering what it would be like to feel the grass growing up from its roots. The grass looking at the water wondering what if feels like to be fluid.
The push. The pull. The ebb. The flow.
The Cancer of Comparison. Surrounding us. Eating at us. Natural as it may be - it still kills.
A captivating man said recently, "When you are the most YOU - you become the person you were created most to be. It is then that we begin to FIT in our own SPOT.....The only way to break out of other people's lives it to go to God and ask Him who we are"
I agree. It is by comparing the fingerprints God has placed on us with others, wishing to be more like someone else, wanting to be better than, bigger than, skinnier than, richer than, or just as good as......that we actually begin to disrespect His creation. There is only one me. There is only one you. There will never ever in the history of the universe be, nor has there ever been another you. Be that person. Find that person. Live in that person to the death.
And I wonder. What would it be like if we starting only comparing ourselves to the person we saw in the mirror each day? Having our only wish as becoming the best version of that person we can be. The only goal of simply becoming more LIKE Him.....for the purpose of being used more BY Him.....having the hopes of only pleasing HIM. No one else. Just Him. Being healthy because we encompass His spirit. Being financially stable to be used of His service. Feeling pretty because He sees us as such. Measuring success merely by how well we are living His purpose. What would happen if our only measuring stick was the Cross and our only Mirror was His eyes? My, how tall we would stand! Not out of our own glory - but out of His Grace. Unique in our one-of- a kind mold. Separate and apart in our own extinct shadow. We are one. We are only.
Train whistles overhead as I return to my car. God appropriately seems to seal many of my "thought journeys" with a train whistle. He is awesome like that.
Drenched with the sweat of humidity. Needing a cool breeze, I reach for my key to turn on the car. Oh, yeah - no AC. I smile. And I think of Paul.
"I have learned in whatever situation I am in - to be content."
I have learned. Funny, he didn't say I have discovered. Nor was he hit on the head with an apple falling from a tree in Centennial Park. He learned. Day by day. Week by week. Year by year....He l e a r n e d contentment. Refusing to compare himself to others. Refusing to live in discontentment or in want. He learned. Priceless.
Lord - teach us. Help us to refuse to compare ourselves to anyone other than the unique creation you have made within us. Remind us to look into no one else's eyes for our worth save that of your own. And may we look deeply. And may we be filled.
For we are, uniquely, Yours.....
b
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