I Will Sing

The post on top

2010-01-19T15:36:00.003-07:00

Wow, October was my last post. Somehow I feel I need to have something else on top. Something that says,

Dear friends, I'm out of inspiration for blogging and don't know when it will return.

Good things are happening, I got a promotion at work that will keep me off the phones more than on the phones, and also I got a raise significant enough to be able to afford an apartment on my own. This is very good news for my life.

Love,
Erica

Entering the Season

2009-10-09T09:31:00.002-06:00

Last night I gave in and turned the heat on, just enough to be comfortable under the covers.

This morning I woke up before my alarm. I lay there thinking how it might be nice to sit cozy on the couch with a cup of coffee and wait for the sun to come up. I have this thought frequently and then I just fall back asleep, but to my amazement I found myself getting out of bed and making coffee in the dark.

Snuggled on the couch I looked out the back window. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground, heavy and wet. It’s slightly early for snow, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.

I sipped for a while and thought about the meal I’m making for friends tonight, anticipating the house permeated with smells of bread, stew, rum baked pears and the warm glow of burning candles.

When I got in my car to drive to work I plugged in my ipod. Without my consent it just started playing on shuffle. The first song it threw up was “Wintersong.”

I took the clue, let song play, gave up my last bits of resistance to the coming season and let myself enter this years winter.

Eyes Open

2009-09-02T14:16:00.002-06:00

The oddest thing while I was singing today. I felt more present with my eyes open. Usually it's distracting, but the thing was. I felt more of God's presence looking about than with my eyes closed. This is a different quality than ever before.

Usually if I open my eyes I start looking around and getting distracted, but It seemed to not matter. I could not push the presence away with anything I did. I felt like . . . "well here we are right here, Lord. You have not tucked your self away and made me look for you. This is nice, very very nice and very good.Thank you."

Sometimes he is not so hard to know and you can see him with your eyes wide open.

2009-08-18T11:42:00.003-06:00

"God's pursuit of praise from us and our pursuit of pleasure in him are one and the same pursuit. God's quest to be glorified and our quest to be satisfied reach there goal in this one experience: our delight in God which overflows in praise."

~John Piper

Worship

2009-08-14T11:31:00.005-06:00

Last night I spent two and a half hours worshiping. I wished it would never end. I wished I could fully explain why that space was the most lushious, peacefully, enlivening place to be. Latley I have no idea how playing music and singing passes for worshiping God. All I do know is that God seems to enjoy it and keeps coming to be with us when we start playing and singing.

The whole experience is a strange exercise. Half the time I'm singing about things I don't really know about and then when I do I feel that the words are never quite saying it. Words like holy, or worthy, or beautiful. What is holy, or worthy or beautiful about God?

What I experienced last night, but could not explain is that God was with us. I felt seen and heard. I was filled with the desire that his goodness would be known. I did not want to move from that space.

This whole experience reminds me of the Mary Oliver poem up there under the name of this blog. "I will sing for the veil." It's all hidden, there is enough to guess at what is there, there is enough to show us that it may, it might, it could lift and the singing is the work, that is the call. Singing for hope of what is there, for more of what is there waiting to be revealed. Now we sing for the one we do not see, but when he comes I believe that we will know that we truly saw him all along and he will be instantly recognizable to the ones who foolishly tried to see his face in the dark.

Rejoicing and Mourning

2009-08-11T12:10:00.002-06:00

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. " Romans 12:15

This past Saturday I attend the wedding of a friend and the next day I was at a memorial service for a very young member of IAC.

One day I was celebrating and the next I was weeping. As I went from place to place through the weekend I thought about this verse in Romans with it’s call to rejoice and it’s call to mourn. I was also struck by the extraordinary nature of the stories of the people I was celebrating and mourning. Neither of these two lives have unfolded in an ordinary way.

My friend Jan has always wanted to be married but has had to live a much longer span of her life single than she ever bargained for. As I have know her through the years real possibilities have come and then suddenly disappeared. But she has always remained open to her desire even while it hurt or even made no sense to keep doing so. And in the midst of her own suffering she has been a warrior and a face of hope to many who needed it. Saturday was finally the fulfillment of her long held hope.

The story of how she has waited made her wedding all the more joyfully.

Omaru, was one of the most loving and tender hearted boy's I've ever seen. I spent an afternoon with him several months ago. Mary Ellen and I took him, his youngest brother and some neighbor boys to the park. I watched him be with them like a father would. He was still playful and adventurous as a 15 year old should be, but tender and aware at the same time. When he saw another kid on the play ground who was needing help he didn’t look around to see who was minding him but just went to the child and helped. A woman who was standing near me watched as Omaru did this, she turned to me and remarked, “what a tender hearted boy, he’s really special.” His glory was so apparent.

The shortness of his radiant life makes the mourning so much deeper.

I was thankful for this command to rejoice with those who rejoice and to mourn with those who mourn. I wanted to be all there for my friends joy and all there for Omarus family in their loss. I was thankful for this lamp post that says the rejoicing doesn’t ignore the weeping and the weeping doesn’t overcome the rejoicing. You can freely enter, you can let your heart be alive to your condition all the way and you will not be consumed. Thanks be to God.

Run for Rwanda Take 2

2009-07-09T09:38:00.008-06:00

It's here again! Last years race was overwhelmingly successful and everyone hopes for an even greater participation this year.

Through last years race we were able to contribute enough money to complete the maternity and HIV wings of the hospital. This year they will start work on the pharmacy and hospitalization wings to complete the project.

I'm excited to be running again having gotten my foot issues resolved with different shoes. I'm planning on running even faster this year ; ) Watch out.

If you would like to sponsor me or even participate in the run you can visit http://runforrwanda.org/. It's the First of August.

Myself a river

2009-07-08T09:46:00.001-06:00

A friend of mine prayed for me the other day and as she was leaning in and trying to listen to what God was saying she saw a picture.

Something like a river or ribbons of different shades of blue, moving and turbulent, yet with a rhythm. When she asked God what it meant she perceived that it was something like contained chaos and, even more, perceived that the river was headed somewhere.

In that image my heart hears that all the elements all the misdirections of my life, all the dead ends are accounted for and are the many shades of blue in the stream. I feel many shaded in my make up with inclinations and abilities that don’t coalesce, but the picture would say that who I am and the events of my life are all flowing together to one destination.

That is a great comfort to know that my life is contained in God’s sight, in his desire for my redemption and his desire for a kingdom of people that is his own. Nothing about me has got him stumped. He is not wondering what to do with me.

Thanks be to God.

The Mean Time

2009-07-02T15:28:00.007-06:00

I've been over optimistic and will have to retract on my said plans for going to massage school. The very plain truth is that there is just not money to do this and there is just no way I am willing to dig myself a larger pit of debt to climb out of later.

In all honesty it hurts. Initially I cried, then I was hopeful and peaceful, and now I'm back to stuck and waiting. I am no longer feeling relieved of the what should I do question? So I've embarked on trying to be thriftier and to save something so that I might have more when the opportunity comes around again.

What do I do in the mean time so I don't go crazy? I confess that I tire of waiting for these far out on the horizon hopes. I also confess that I have this strange hope that what I find in the meantime may actually become more meaningful than the destination.

The whole situation though, begs larger questions. Larger questions about the ordinary of life. There is so much waiting, at least my life has had a lot of that. I think so often that the only thing that matters is arriving, is doing the thing you where made to do or having something or finding someone, then the real life starts, then you will be satisfied.

That way of thinking sets up this sort of rightness or wrongness of things. I tend to think that while I am not being or doing the "thing" I am wrong. When the truth is that I am merely on my way. I think that this might be the most liberating truth I could take hold of and yet it has been the most difficult to receive. It's a truth that I constantly bat away because if I can't believe in arrival than what should I believe in?

You know what I really want, and want to believe is that I'm fine, that I will move through my life in time, that I will move through my life near to God and not opposed to him. That the nearness will be enough, that it will satisfy all the time and that the doings of my life will be free from carrying the weight of my happiness. And that ordinary will be just as lovely as all the rest.

A radical thing

2009-06-05T09:34:00.002-06:00

Last night I was at a small gathering of folks who wanted to worship. There were eight of us who came together with just two guitars and our voices.

The Spirit of God was with us, to my delight. With us just as much as when I'm in a big gathering with a whole band and a whole congregation. There was something sweeter though.

I could pick out each persons unique voice and sense each persons particular delight in God. Though each of us agreed at some point in the evening that to delight in him is a paradox and a strange thing.

I spoke something aloud that I want to remember. It's a radical thing to be in the presence of God. He has done wonders and miracles to restore us to Him. God could have made a much tamer world, a much less dangerous or painful world, but he didn't. He is quite serious about rectifying what went off the rails, but even the going off the rails was not a surprise to him. He's not scrambling to get things fix. On the one hand that makes me feel very safe and secure on the other I wonder what else he will have to let happen in order to have us back in his Kingdom. But getting us back to the Kingdom is what I believe everything is about. It matters to be with God and it's radical. Just making it through this life is not enough, jobs and homes and families and all that stuff is not the point. Returning to living in the presence of God Most High is the point. And then from that all the other stuff flows and much better than with out him too.

"No eye has seen, no mind had conceived what God has prepared for those who love him."

The luck returns

2009-05-22T09:55:00.003-06:00

Did I forget to mention that the plant survived. About a week or so after whacking off all the dead stuff it started shooting out new leaves. At the same time it started shooting out blooms.

It's lush and full again, fuller than it ever was, in fact. The leaves are a dark green with a burgundy hue underneath and more vibrant than when I bought it.

Maybe I have to thank the mystery bad do-gooder who desecrated it in the first place.

Is this like how God used the Babylonians to judge Israel or how Jesus took hold of what every farmer knew, the seed has to die before it can live.

God uses everything, everything. Doesn't matter what. He is more confounding and wonderful than I think I will ever understand. Even when we get to heaven, I think there will still be things to wonder at and not quiet understand, but there will be love, lots and lots of love, Oh and some lush green plants too.

Bring me your naked muscles

2009-03-12T16:04:00.006-06:00

I've embarked on a whole new thing. After swallowing my pride about acquiring yet more education, I've decided to go back to school. This time I'm nearly %100 sure that what I'm doing will be something that I will like, maybe even love. I am leaning toward love.

After how many years of disliking one's work, I am going to risk that there is actually something out there that fits me. I honestly think I'll be good at it. No more sitting all day in a chair, answering the phone or staring mindlessly at a computer screen.

I might have more time, more money for the things I really do enjoy and want to do. Write, take a trip once in a while, ride horses (not just clean up after them). Oh yeah and pay off all the debt from the what am I doing, things will get better years.

The next year won't be the easiest. I'll be working full time while I attempt to go to classes, study and complete the necessary practice hours for certification. That's where your naked muscles come in. I'm sure if your lucky I'll be kneading some sacrificial volunteers.

So get in line right behind my mother. You will have to wait till sometime in later July or August before I actually start using guinea pigs. Classes don't start till June. Hallelujah it's a new day.

The luck runs out

2009-03-09T14:40:00.003-06:00

Well after being out of work, due to a voice stealing cold, I've returned to find that some concerned citizen watered my Shamrock while I was gone. Unfortunately it looks as if they have watered it to death.

After a whole year of keeping it alive, actually green and healthy it's foliage has now been reduced by half. I don't think I want to know who it was. That way I don't have to feel personally angry with someone. I can just be mildly grumpy at the universe. I just don't know that I can handle looking at such a scragly looking thing for another year before it decides it's time to shoot out new leaves. This is where I give up on plants.

Hmm. . . hope you all had a better Monday.

Keeping Track

2009-02-16T14:02:00.003-07:00

So yesterday evening I was totally exhausted when I drove to the store for some essentials. On the way at lest two people pulled out in front of me, didn't accelerate and drove five miles below the speed limit. I tried not to be frustrated, but felt personally slighted anyway. I zoomed around them, not above the speed limit
being so careful as to not break the law myself.

I parked, shopped then headed to the check out. The express lane, 10 items or less, was looking wide open. Another woman gets there first, with a cart. I start counting her items, sure that I am I being slighted again for the third time on this trip?

Then suddenly very quietly I hear, "love keeps no record of wrongs." Oh busted? I stop counting, have a little giggle and drive slow all the way home.

Things I'm thinking about

2009-01-29T15:17:00.003-07:00

In no particular order

1. Oatmeal

2. Ted Haggard

3. Getting off coffee

4. Green Tea

5. Guitar lessons

6. When I'll get to sing again.

7. Spending less money on food.

In the Open

2009-01-15T09:36:00.004-07:00

So I said goodbye to the boy and in simultaneous joy and relief I've said goodbye to another thing. It was a sort of fantasy I've harbored for way to long. You know the kind, shameful and inappropriate and the sort that threatens to ruin every joy that you've managed to acquire. That's the silver lining in it all. The boy helped me get over the fake thing while I was faced with the possibility of a real thing.

So I find myself in the open unnameable, where I don't know anything, but am asked to hope. I'm taking up a cross again and it hurts. I wonder if I can hold on to my own revelation that Jesus is in this insufferable open with me, the place where his heart resides. The fantasy took a lot of time and space to navigate, to keep it from actually poking its head into reality. But now I'm again in the space of total dependence, in total need of mercy for a real and holy thing to show up.

I know my track record for filling in that open space for latching on to something that I can name and handle and settle for. I find my heart pleading with myself and with God, "not again, not this time, not another few years of misguided, tainted hopes."

Last night I was naively hopeful that something holy and new would come along, but it was all thwarting and strain and me looking around asking "what's going on?" The words of the Pharisees I read yesterday, in that book I carry around with me, came to mind. "Didn't this man come from Galilee? Isn't the Christ suppose to come from David's family and from Bethlehem." They knew all about what was suppose to happen, they where so sure and in that sureness they where actually blinded to the real thing when it did come. I wonder if I am so sure I know that I am set up to keep missing it.

This morning I tried to relay the tension I was feeling to a friend. Someone who has never handled me in a way I like, but when you start to feel desperate even a smile your way can lead you into folly. I tried to relay that I had an odd and disappointing evening, that there was so much expectation on my end and then it was stopped over and over.

She came through the way she always does."Well we don't always get what we want," she said then left me there, as if that was the greatest truth in life. Momentarily I spiraled back into a lonely isolated feeling, still looking around for a commiserate companion, for some one who knows that the "valley of trouble is the door of hope," someone who knows that it's the same place where the devastated "will sing" again.

Apparently

2009-01-13T10:31:00.000-07:00

I think I've used and heard this word so much lately in a certain context, that I had to say something about it.

Apparently

It’s become obvious
that I’m about to make a
clever observation,

and am drawing notice as I
tip my head up and glance my eyes down,
to explain what you have not seen before.

I am working very hard at impressing you
with my steel trap,
nothing gets by me mind.

I am not giving it up
even though it rings in my ears so much now
as a cheap, nonchalant way to thrill,

Apparently.

All Together

2009-01-09T13:27:00.000-07:00

There is a certain moment in the Sunday morning liturgy that captures me every time. Pastor Ken takes the bread in his hands, raises it up and breaks it in two saying,

“We break this bread to share in the body of Christ.”

And all together we respond,

“Though we are many, we are one body, because we all share in one bread.”

What I’ve just heard is that I am no longer an outcast. No one can trump any one with their suffering, or with their success, with their goodness or with their badness. Christ has united all in their suffering and sin and need for redemption. In this act and with these words we humble ourselves to share in the one bread.

All together we share the bread of suffering. Lately I’ve been thinking of the suffering of waiting. There are many things that we wait for. We wait for clarity, or health, for a place to rest or a direction to travel, for a loved one to return or for justice to be done.

But the deepest waiting we do is for the unnamable, as John says, “what we will be has not yet been made known.” And it is here in the open unnamable that we are called to be. To remain open to what the Lord hasn’t yet made known is also to remain empty and inherent in emptiness is pain. Emptiness is unnatural. The soul, as nature, abhors a vacuum and so it aches in the emptiness. Everything in me and you wants to avoid the ache, to be full, sated and at rest. We are willing to fill it with anything and even God has said to us that “your desire will be for . . . and . . . will rule over you.”

So, to remain open is to chose suffering, but it is a holy suffering and one we share with Christ. As he groans for his return we share his groan and that draws us into his very heart. There is the cost though of those often compelling, but lesser desires, but when we are drawn into his heart we know the exchange of the rule of desires for the presence and rule of his love. This is the kind of suffering that the faithful of Hebrews chose for “none of them received what had been promised” before they died, and yet God loved them and celebrated them for continuing to want and wait on God’s fulfillment.

And so we also share in the bread of redemption. Redemption now, but also in the end. It’s striking what Hebrews says in the next breath. “God had planned something better” than the faithful getting what they desired in their time. God’s plan is that “only together with us would they be made perfect.”

All together we will share in the final redemption. That is something better. I don’t know what you expect when the Lord returns, in the moment that we “see him as he is” and in the split second it takes for us to be transformed into his likeness. I expect to be stunned upon seeing him and exclaim, “It’s him!” and then turning around to tell someone else, only to be stunned again, “It’s you!” and then the dawning realization “oh my, it’s me too!” I can’t wait to see Abraham’s face or Jacob’s face or David’s face as they finally see, finally receive what they have always longed for. I can’t wait to celebrate all your dear faces, having known your specific pains and longings, having endured the openness together, in that moment of you and everything becoming what it truly is.

Number Three

2009-01-08T20:58:00.001-07:00

I just returned from date number three. I've heard it's suppose to be the magical number. Unfortunately there wasn't any magic in this one. I'm just not feeling it. I'm sure he will be baffled. I smiled, I laughed, I told sympathetic reciprocating stories. But on the inside I was bored, and uninterested and didn't want to share one special thing about myself with him. I didn't want to get him to ponder beautiful things with me or find myself imagining any kind of a future with him.

On the way home I sang in the car. I thought, usually when I want to show someone how I care about them or I want them to like me, I think about singing them a song. I haven't thought about singing him a song.

Now it's public right here on the web. I hope he's not terribly offended and Lord willing he won't find this little blog. Any ideas about how to let him down humanely and fairly. I'm sure I can't go on one more date with out telling him how I'm really feeling.

A Flower Shoot!

2009-01-08T13:01:00.000-07:00

There's a flower shoot on the plant that sits on my desk at work. Could it be a miracle of spring already? I think it truly is, since I usually manage to kill plants. It's almost been a year of just green leaves on this one, but it's actually going to bloom again. Some how it inspires trust in the seasons to return and if I just keep watering it it will do what it's suppose to. Yeah!

For this brief moment today I am not sad that the fun part of winter is over and the enduring part is here. Yesterday I actually looked up to see when I'd be able to run outdoors in the daylight after work. It'll be March, March 8th to be precise. Guess it's the gym until then.

Falling in Love?

2009-01-06T09:56:00.001-07:00

What does it take to fall in love? What does it take to fall in love with the right person?

Everything looks right. You ask the right questions, you're curious, you respond accordingly, you call when you say you will, you bring flowers, you don't presume that you can just touch me or kiss me. I see that you are very interested in me. You don't back away even when I don't respond. All this and I am not moved.

I think if you can make me laugh, honestly and not just a sympathetic chuckle at your attempt to make a joke, I might start to swoon.

Fun, I've always imagined that I would like to be with someone a little more fun than me. Someone who is more willing than I am to get into trouble. I play it close to home and the vest unless I really know the risk will pay off. I don't know how that more fun person would feel about having to drag me into things though.

I could love a person who helped me to get unstuck and didn't mind wading through.

I could love a person who had a common purpose in life. If only I could figure out what mine is.

Profession, I never thought that there would be objections in my mind to what his profession was, as long as he had one, but does my family really need another engineer in it? This is probably unfair, but I can't ignore that there is a wall that goes up when I hear that.

I wish, though it isn't necessary, that he was here close by so that I wouldn't have to leave this life that I already have, the friends and church I love and the opportunities I have to sing. Could there be a love worth leaving for?

Reflecting on 2008

2009-01-05T09:06:00.000-07:00

I lifted these questions from Beth. I thought they we're a good way to think about the year.

I learned to…..Crochet a blanket

I grew most in…..confidence in singing and putting myself out there.

Another way I saw myself growing was…connecting with God in prayer and worship.

One of my best adventures was… Singing at Beth and Scott’s wedding

I saw/knew God was doing something when….. I didn’t get the job I wanted.

A real gift from God was…. His accessible, constant presence with me and in that coming to believe that pain and sorrow is the temporary thing and that Joy will last forever.

Something I really enjoyed doing more of was…. Running and getting outdoors.

One of the happiest memories of 2008 I’d like to freeze in my mind… Singing at Beth and Scott's wedding ; )

I was really brave when…… I said yes to a date.

Something I’ve grieved about this year was….. Being single

The best word of advice or encouragement I can remember is… When my friends delighted to tell me that, “You’re a being person.”

One thing I’m looking forward to in 2009 is….. More dating.

How about you?

Hoping for this moment

2008-12-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

Amber honey drip
Handsome, rich, thick

On our lips
And linger

We taste
Ripened gold
In moments tender

And weep with
Laughter as
Redemption runs
Down our chins.

Thankful for:

2008-11-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

Well it just has to be done. I didn’t think of a super creative way to say what I’m thankful for and please forgive that it’s not a comprehensive list, but then we’d be here a long time.

Mary Ellen who, as her roommate, has not made me feel like I’m traveling through but that I have a real place in her home. We realized recently that the only circumstance that has changed for either of us in the last year or so is that we live together and in that time both of us have found new and deeper sanity in our lives. Of course, both of us thought that other changes in our circumstances would have been the things to make us happier. For me it was a different job, and for her it was . . . well I'll let her tell you that.
Bethann, who gets feisty with me and says “This is who you are” and means it and doesn’t mind that I am bringing up for the 1000th time that thing that is always troubling me. You’re the best friend I never knew I would have.
New people that surprise me and make me say, “Yes we’re friends” at our first meeting.
Community, I’ve been surprised by the people around me who notice and care and act on my behalf, sometimes with out my knowing it. I’ve always wanted that and this year I found it.
My church that is warm and humble and kind. That it’s a place for the divorced, the widowed, the hungry, the homeless, the addict and the really directionless, really hungry girl who just wants to put something honest and beautiful into the world.
Singing! I’m grateful that I can and that it brings me so much pleasure. I’m grateful for anyone who wants to listen and especially for Cisco, our worship pastor, who from the beginning has been gracious to me, as I shamlessly beg like a puppy for opportunities to sing and who never makes me feel foolish for wanting so much.
The Lord my God, who always catches me when the wanting gets to be more than I or anyone around me can handle and never tells me to want less or to get over it, who miraculously redeems me from all my foolish grasping and who always brings me back to his heart, in this incredibly kind and loving way, where I am mercifully satisfied.
Blogging, It’s just lovely to have a place to try and say stuff and to let people see what you try. I love the whole process of writing, it makes me almost as happy as singing. So I’m grateful for anyone who reads what I have to say. Hmm. . . but I’d be more grateful if those of you who read and never comment, would take a chance , even if you just said “hi,” but I still love you all the same. ; )

Breaking Through the Silence

2008-11-17T14:10:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I sang at my friend Beth’s wedding. This time it was just me and the piano. This was the most naked performance I’ve done yet. It was back in Shove Chapel, that glorious stone, wood and stain glassed sanctuary. It echos in there. Sound bounces around on it’s own whim which has the effect of exaggerating the silence. Suddenly you hear things you don’t normally hear. Making any sound becomes an agreement to get noticed. You become careful with your movement. You don’t shift in your seat or clear your throat. When you walk you become inclined to tiptoe instead of clomping your feet.

The wedding guest were going to hear every sound I made or didn’t make. Not only because of acoustics, but if I backed away from a note or phrase there would be no other music or voice to cover what I missed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that much responsibility for a song. Usually I am singing harmonies and you can get away with a lot when you aren’t carrying the melody of the song. You can drop phrases, or not sing a line you can even play around with the tempo of the phrases you sing and no one is necessarily going to notice that it’s a mistake, at least not in the style I usually sing in.

Now obviously if you’re the soloist you’re suppose to be noticed. It’s all about what's coming out of you. Earlier in the week I went to check the sound. I was a wreck. I heard my voice break the silence in that large and empty space and I became overpowered with the judgments that may be passed about my voice. Hence, I sang terribly, forgot the words and uncomfortably eked out the higher notes. I felt awful. I was disappointed. I knew I could do better. I’d heard myself do better. Would I forever be a nervous wreck and never get the song out of me that I knew I could get out of me?

I spent the week in an exercise of trying to get over it. I knew I could sing the songs, but the factor I could not practice was the nervousness that is only produced under pressure. So there was really nothing else I could do before then to change things.

Saturday morning arrived there was set up and another sound check and half the ceremony and then finally the piano began to play and it was time to open my mouth and fill the silence, not just to make sound in it, but to fill it with something meaningful and beautiful. I was shaking, but to my relief my voice was not. I could hear it out there filling the corners and bouncing around in the boat shaped rafters. Beth and Scott washed each others feet. I could see them full of delight for each other. I knew the words of the song meant something to them personally, so I sang for them. It felt like a sigh and the more I heard what I wanted to hear coming out of me the more I relaxed. It was good.

Afterward people looked at me sincerely and intently and told me so. Strangers walked across the room to tell me how beautiful it was. I could hear it in their voices and see it in their faces that the impact was good. My friends felt proud of me. I was happy. The inner world of my expectations and hopes met reality, a little taste of transcendence.

2008-11-14T19:35:00.000-07:00

Oh I have a blog. Oh my I've missed you little blog. Please forgive me for having stayed away so long. I've been undergoing some internal shifts and well words and thoughts just aren't clear enough to give away yet. I sort of like looking like I've got it together so I tend to not like giving half formed things away. Besides they would come out all cliche and trite and uninteresting.

But let me just say that today I am grateful. Work was a battle field today. Sizable layoffs are happening. Whole departments and some long standing projects are gone. My job was not among them. Although there is the tinge of guilt for not really loving what I do and feeling that at this moment many would be grateful to be doing what I'm doing.

Having and wanting

2008-09-15T08:45:00.000-06:00

All joy . . .emphasizes our pilgrim status; always reminds, beckons, awakens desire. Our best havings are wantings.
~C.S Lewis

Yesterday our church got in the way of the wind. You could feel it stirring before we even began. It was a wind that comes up from underneath and pushes up and up, and it did as we praised a God who is Holy. He carried us up and propelled us forward and helped us loosen our grip on things a little bit more. Teaching us to chase him, wild goose that he is.

There was no fear in letting go. He is kind. Everyone participated. Every one laid something down and asked the Lord for new life, for resurrection of the stale or aching or broken things.

I was filled with awe and song. I was tempted to feel suspicious at so much elation in simply singing and being. I'm tempted to ask if I am just full of myself, so delighted with the sound of my own voice? When I'm not singing I think about doing it again, how to do it better, how to ride the wind with more abandon. I wonder if what I heard in my mind and ached to sing, was the Lord prompting?

Later in the day I sat quietly with others in prayer, in His presence, and the thing I heard in my mind I prayed out loud and it felt like a living thing or like a meal that could satisfy for a long time. It wasn't me that made the meal. It wasn't like a flash or a strong voice but a quiet phrase playing, sounding just enough not like me that I considered it, held it in my hand awhile and then gave away. It thrilled me again.

I was thrilled for hours, happy and lite and near to God and aching. Joyful and not yet satisfied.
I had to lay it down at some point, descend to the earth again and give the wanting a break, but I didn't want to leave the presence of the Lord. How do I rest but not leave the joy behind I wondered?

Like a pilgrim I went for a walk through the neighborhood, enjoying the light and shadow and canopy of the trees, the tended grass and flowers, the neighbors who were out talking with one another. Geese flew overhead. I wondered if these where the mysterious and chaseable type. I turned toward home and taking my breath away was the most luscious orb of a full moon I've ever seen, hovering so low to the horizon that it had swelled to three times its normal size.
Like a meal I could eat and be satisfied with for a long time.

Inexpressible

2008-09-10T10:26:00.000-06:00

Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy . . . 1 Peter 1:8

Sweet longing comes

I kneel down
filled with an aching empty

I have not seen him who comes
who's silent hovering
consumes

Who names all my hunger
and pours himself in

Inexpressible
I love

as he sees

Inexpressible
as he opens joy
in me

Race Day

2008-08-11T13:57:00.000-06:00

Sorry for the dealy in reporting on this event. I was sick most of last week and not interested in anything but lying still on the couch.

It was a great day! A wonderful time was had by all. We had more than double the turn out anyone expected and raised about $17,000 for the clinic and other projects. I ran the whole race in 32:45. I was really surprised by that since I hadn't even completed the whole distance in training.

I've officially got the running bug now and I was really diapointed that I couldn't run last week. Good thing I'm better now.

Run For Rwanda

2008-07-28T10:52:00.000-06:00

Five days till the Run for Rwanda. I'm very excited about the event. I've been diligently running four times a week for the last four weeks and I'm up to about 24 minutes of running interspersed with about eight minutes of walking. I cover about 2.6 miles in one workout. I'm increasing my running time by three more minutes today.

Also, I'll be joined by my mom and dad for the race. I wonder who will win ; ) Even though my dad hasn't been training he'll still probably beat me. Mom is planning on walking and I'm betting she will enjoy herself back there making friends with the other walkers.

I probably won't run the whole three miles till the day of the race. It'll be a stretch, but rewarding. When I think about why I'm running it makes me happy. I'm glad that we can help the community in Kibali be restored in such a tangible way. Even though it's been more than ten years since the genocide there, there is still much to be done. Whenever I think I'm to tiered or want to stop when I'm running, I think about the people there who when they need to go to a hospital have to be carried on a stretcher for miles and miles.

If you are still interested in giving a donation go to www.runforrwanda.org and complete a sponsorship form. If you don't have my address you can send it to the address on the form.

New Look

2008-07-22T11:02:00.001-06:00

Isn't this fun? I thought I'd try it on for a while. Lately the page hasn't been displaying right so I thought I'd look for something else and I found a site with lots of free templates. http://www.eblogtemplates.com/. Have a look.

Things are pretty mundane not much to talk about lately. Eat, sleep, work, water the lawn, try to stay cool.

OK, so I might break down and try online dating. I filled out a free profile last night and was matched with a few guys. Embarrassingly, I actually know one of them and he works down stairs from me. He transfers me calls and I see him in the cafeteria. Three years and we've never really struck up a conversation. This makes me nervous.

It was sorta fun to see who I was matched with. I was surprised I didn't flip out about it. I might though. I didn't become a member so I can't see any of the matches photos. Does someone want to sponsor me to get a boyfriend? One of the "matches" asked me for a picture this morning and I don't really have any of me. What sort of photo do you display of yourself when you are on the market? : ) Anyway I'm still contemplating this drastic action. I've had friends that have had success with this and some that painfully have not. But at this point I don't see how I'm going to meet anybody.

Alright so maybe something is going on.

Pictures?

2008-07-14T14:44:00.001-06:00

The more I look at everyone else's blogs the more I realize that I'm really deficent when it comes to pictures. I think the main reason is I don't have a digital camera, also I can't remember the last time I actually took a whole role of film and had it developed. I actually have a role of film that's been sitting around for four years waiting to be developed. Am I really that poor? It just seems whenever I have a little extra money to spend I wind up buying clothes or better food. The thing is I actually like to take pictures and I keep thinking of fun little themes on which I could take pictures. I'm sure all the family far away would like to see something about my life or even a picture with me in it. The last picture I know about of my self was when we visited Michigan in December. I will work on this.

Weekend with a six year old

2008-07-07T12:28:00.000-06:00

Things you say to a six year old when playing board games:

- "Sweetheart, you can only be one color chip/horseshoe ect. . ."
- "Whatever you roll on the dice is the number of spaces you go."
- "No, you can't just put the dice on the board with the number you want."
- "No, you can't keep rolling the dice till you get the number you want."
- "you can only draw a card if you land on the space that says "draw a card."
- "Well, you have to do what's on the card to get the points."

All this aside I had a delightful time playing the game I got my niece for her birthday. There were a lot of rules to enforce and I didn't have the heart for them all, so we made up some of our own and ignored others. Her parents may have to undo much mayhem from her visit to the grandparents. She's been spolied not having to share any toys or attention with her brothers and aside from us insisting on watching the Wimbeldon finals on Saturday, she got to do just about everything she wanted to do. Play games, go to the "park," swim in the "hot pool," play with the walkie-talkies, play with the cat, watch animal planet, play with paints and play-dough, eat noodles with cheese, have smores, have ice cream and sleep in her specially made bed, all with one of the best laughs I've ever heard come out of a child. She may not want to come home, we may not let her ; )

A voice as big as what's in my heart

2008-07-03T09:39:00.001-06:00

Singing has been an adventure and obviously important to me considering it’s the theme around which I started writing this blog. I often want to say more about it, but find it hard to actually speak about in a meaningful way. But yesterday I had a break through, a moment when, in the words of my theme poem, “the veil began to lift.”

The strongest desire I have when I sing is that I get what's in there out there. I often feel that I fall short. It's not a bad feeling, just a longing that what's in my heart meets reality, that it's honest and life giving and that it's something the listener grabs a hold of and is moved by.

One thing that I've struggled with is getting volume out of my voice and still maintaining the purity of the tone. Months ago when I wrote about limitations with my voice this is what I was struggling with. My voice has a nice quality, but not a fullness of volume that is better for soloing.

But yesterday it happened. I don't know if it's just taken me a while to learn control and to gain strength or if it has more to do with running and having stronger lungs, but whatever the reason, it happened.

I was singing a song that we don't sing very often that has an echo part in it, which I didn't remember till we got to that part in the song. I hear in my head that there should be an echo and then oh yeah I should sing it! So I do. Typically I sing harmony and so my voice isn't usually out there by itself and suddenly it was. And I was so surprised that it just sailed out strongly and even felt like it meet the strength of the lead vocalist voice. Which usually when I hear my voice next to his feels pale. It was so exciting. I was so into it that I even varied the echo from the melody line. It was so fun! I finally felt like the strength of conviction that was in me was coming out of me. It was such a satisfying thing and made me feel grateful that I could do that.

Later the person I was singing with said he noticed how much stronger I sounded and had to look over and watch what I was doing ; ) It's nice to know it wasn't just me thinking that.

It was like that wonder filed moment a kid has when they realize that they don’t need the training wheels on their bike any more, dad has let go and they are riding on there own. I floated the rest of the day with the joy that I just may have a voice that's as big as what's in my heart.

Ready to Run

2008-07-01T09:48:00.000-06:00

Well in the two and a half years I've been sitting at a desk job I've finally managed to gain back the almost 20 pounds I'd lost in my manual labor job at the barn. I knew eventually all the sitting, plus cookie eating would catch up with me. It's also made my back start to hurt. I find it amazing that shoveling, lifting and carrying four about four or five hours a day for two years never once made my back hurt, but two years of imobility has. Any way I digress.

Oppourtunity and motivation has come. My church is sponsoring a 5K to raise money for our sister church in Kibali, Rwanda Africa. They are looking to raise money for a number of things, including livestock for families, school fees for the children and funds to continue building a desperatly needed health clinic for the community.

On Saturday I spent a lovely day with my mom. She took me shoping. (I love that I'm thirty and mom my still takes me shoping.) We bought a pair of running shoes so I can do this right and not hurt myself. Thanks mom.

Yesterday I took my first run in them. It was actually fun. I'm trying to follow a training schedule and so far so good. I have exactly the amount of time they say is nessesary to train before the race. Really they suggest six weeks, I have five at this point. I had already started walking and I would do a couple intervals of running with no problem, so I think I'm ok to start into the second week of training intervals.

If anyone is interested cause you,

a) love me

b) love Rwanda or

c) aren't running or walking yourself,

I'd love sponsors. Here is a link to the site for more information on the race and sponsorship. http://www.runforrwanda.org/

Americano-ization

2008-06-30T09:42:00.000-06:00

So I pull up to the Starbucks drive-through the other day and order a grande Americano. If you don't know, an Americano is a few shots of espresso topped off with hot water.

Then the gal asks me, "would you like an extra energy boost in that?"

I didn't quite understand or believe what I just heard. "Do I want what?" I ask.

"An extra energy boost?"

My face screws up, I start laughing, "an extra energy boost?" my brain catches up with the insanity and I think to myself, you don't think the three shots of espresso will be enough boost? It's caffeine, what could be more boosting than caffeine? If I wanted more boost I'd have you add an extra shot. I refrain I pull it all back, smile and say, "No thanks."

I drive away. Only in America does it have to be more sugar in your sugar, more stimulant in your stimulant, bigger, better, energiz-er. Oi, isn't it enough to just be addicted to the caffeine part of the coffee? Maybe next time I'll ask them about what exactly this is. Probably a concoction of ginseng and vitamins or something healthy sounding, but sure to get my heart racing.

The Presences of Peonies

2008-06-26T16:42:00.000-06:00

So there is a story behind yesterday’s poem. About a week ago at lunch I went to Whole Foods. (Yes I’m there a lot.) I walked in the main entrance, which is something I don’t usually do. The reason I don’t do this is because that’s where all the flowers are. Now these are the really good flowers, exotic, imported, organic, no neon died daisies or discount roses here. They aren’t even that highly priced it’s just that money is tight. So I’d rather not even think about it because I can’t have them, but that day I forwent my prudent avoidance and walked in the main door anyway.

Oh my, there they all were. Prominently displayed were peonies, vibrant, saturated, ridiculous with life, whole bouquets of them one after the other. It was too much to resist. I started imagining them in every space in my life, at my desk at work, on the dining room table, on the coffee table, in my room on the dresser. Oh, I wanted them so badly.

I have money. I could buy at least one bouquet right? The dissonance in me that this wasn’t really true started playing. If I buy these flowers I won’t have money for other things that I actually need and that’s going to stress me out more than the flowers will bring me delight. I felt a bit defeated and sad, but then suddenly I thought the delight of having something beautiful shouldn’t be crushed, so I prayed, “Lord bring me flowers, bring me flowers.” The prayer floated through me and the notion of them as a gift became more delectable then just buying them up in the moment.

It felt like such a delightfully fun thing to ask God for too. I had a feeling that he was interested in my request and a wonderful anticipation arose of seeing how God would deliver. I relaxed and let myself walk away, silently offering the prayer, opening myself to how they might come, imaging scenarios in which they might show up and then letting it go.

I was enamored by the request enough that I wrote the poem, obviously postulating the meaning of flowers. I finished it yesterday.

Yesterday, I went home too. Of course I go home everyday, except this week. I’ve been dog sitting for a friend. I came home to get some things and to hang out with my roommate Mary Ellen. We sat out on the back porch for a while with another friend, just chit-chatting about stuff. We started talking about the house, which Mary Ellen owns, and all the projects that she wants to get done. We were talking about the yard and she turns to me suddenly and half asks, half announces her recent discovery “Erica, did you know we have a peony bush?”

“No” I said, and then trying to picture I ask, “Where?”

“It’s around the side of the house.”

“Oh” I said, still trying to imagine where, and because I’m a little slow I’m only thinking “hmm, there’s a flowery bush hiding on the property, that’s nice.”

“Well show me” I say. She walks me around to the side of the house in the backyard. Between the chain link fence and this huge juniper tree is sandwiched a peony bush that is just starting to bloom.

We stood looking at the bush, discussing the insanity of the former owner who planted it. It’s completely obscured from sight from almost any angle. How anyone would get to enjoy it was a mystery.

So I’m standing there talking about and looking at the bush and suddenly I begin to remember that I have been asking for flowers and it begins to dawn on me that it’s peonies that started all the asking. I fall silent from the conversation and stare at the bush like it just caught fire and started talking. I consider removing my shoes, they're already off.

I don’t say anything to Mary Ellen or our friend. It’s too lovely to say anything just yet, though I’m having trouble keeping a smile off my face. I keep my secret till our friend leaves, then tell Mary Ellen. “Well, you know where the vases are,” she says. The blooms are just getting going, there will be lots of flowers, enough for the office, the dinning room, the coffee table, the dresser, oh my, oh my, all free, all gift.

Bring Me

2008-06-25T13:59:00.000-06:00

Bring me flowers
Because you like to see me smile

Bring me patient green stems
Who have seen the winter end

And delivered grace filled petals
For a silky celebration

Bring me this humble glory
To spark the joy within.

Zacchaeus

2008-06-25T10:23:00.000-06:00

You know. . . he’s the one spectating up in the sycamore tree while Jesus walks by.

This morning in my work place devotions we considered what person in the bible we wanted to be like. There was one I wanted to be like who I aspire to and then there was this fondness I found myself having for Zacchaeus because we’re alike.

The image of him up in that tree stays in my mind, curious and drawn to what is going on. He’s heard a lot of wild stuff about this man coming through town. He’s skeptical by nature and thinks he’ll get a good look at things before making up his mind.

That’s me, if ever there was a picture. I’m curious and drawn, but I stand on the edge. I’m pretty sure no one has noticed. No one has minded my presence at all.

Then suddenly the man whom all this clamor is about turns round looks straight at me and says “come down, I need to stay at your house.”

Yep, me and Zacchaeus are kindred here. Shocked that we’ve been called out, but glad too. We’ve no intention of saying no to this man. The way he noticed, the way he knew, and the look in his eye are to real to be denied. We climb down and get more intimately acquainted.

This story keeps playing out in my life. Just when I think I’m nice and cozy and hidden away in the corner someone says my name. It’s the shock of notice that stay’s with me and the realization that I can’t really hide. There’s the “who me?” that always pops up and the sudden fear that I won’t have what is needed, but then I find that I do. More and more there is the thrill of knowing that when Jesus calls he knows what he is doing and I can trust that what he has given me is enough.

Graces

2008-06-11T09:38:00.000-06:00

As of two Thursday's ago I didn't know how I would walk back into work. I had a melt down at lunch, in which I suddenly became unable to handle how the rest of my day would go.

Let me explain. My days at work are full of boredom. If the phone isn't ringing I don't have any other responsibilities or tasks to do, so I have to find ways of entertaining myself. This gets really tedious. Eight hours of answering the phone and filling time.

The other problem is that I don't have a lot to do with myself on the weekend. I'm embarrassed to admit this. Some how I haven't managed to do what the rest of the culture does and that's get busy. I don't have many responsibilities, no husband, no children, not even a pet to care for. So I find myself having to fill time. And that's the major thing that caused the melt down. The thought that my life has been reduced to filling time.

At my job the question is "what am I going to do for the next five minutes to stay sane?" On the weekend it's how am I going to fill the next hour so I stay sane?"

It's the same question every where. I had a long sobbing conversation with my creator. I pleaded for relief from this unending burden. I asked for a vacation. "Please Lord arrange some kind of vacation for me, a vacation from filling time."

I went back into work and asked for the next day off. I knew I just needed to not be there the next day. I was still worried though about what I would do with my self for the next few days.

Friday morning came around and two graces came my way. I awoke with some idea of things I wanted to do that day, both fun and functional, however as I started in I was just anxious about it. The anxiety was from fear that I ought to be doing "more important" things, something that would be getting me out of my current job, for instance. So I didn't feel freedom to just do the things I planned with joy or abandon. I stopped and thought I could ask Jesus about this. I settled down and got quiet. The first thought that came was, "you're not going to solve your job dilemma today." and the next was "what do you want to do today?" I went through the list and it all seemed well. I relaxed and drove straight to the coffee shop to have breakfast and read and ponder. That was Grace number one. The day was planned and filled with enjoyable things.

While I was there my phone rang. It was my brother. Now this was a surprise because we don't call each other. So of course I was immediately curious. He asked me if I want to come and visit him and his family that weekend. "Umm . . . yeah actually my weekend is wide open. Yes I 'll come this would be the perfect weekend (more than you know)."

It was another one of those moments where you look around expecting to see God standing there smiling. Thank you Jesus, for this little vacation.

I had a lovely weekend with them all, Dan and Jen and the kids and no time filling.

Lilac

2008-06-09T10:36:00.000-06:00

The smell of pungent purple,
heavy and warm,
fills the house.

The decadent flower,
outside the open window,
spends her royal fragrance.

A real presence

saturates this drawn summer night,
and no cheap scented thing
washes over me.

Psalm 73

2008-06-04T09:55:00.000-06:00

But as for me, it is good to be near God.
I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge.

God's Voice

2008-06-02T16:15:00.000-06:00

Lately, I've been seeking after God's voice. I've been seeking after his presence. If you were to ask me what my plan is next concerning things (like my job) I would tell you my plan is to stay close to Jesus.

This is the only thing about my life that I've come up with so far as something I'd really like to do. This makes me happy. It's not easy, it's not clear, it can make you look very foolish, to your friends, your family, even yourself, but I would perish with out his voice even though he doesn't' always come with answers.

I felt like a failure Sunday afternoon, when I returned home from church alone. I spent nearly the whole day with acquaintances and friends, yet when it came to the end I left the gathering alone and came home alone and spent the early evening feeling defeated.

I was tiered. I pushed back a little against the horrible accusations that I was failing and was failing God at my task to find meaningful relationships. It lifted a little, not all the way though and it followed me through my dreams and into my morning, where I was faced with the other failure which is my inability to finding meaningful work.

During my morning break at work I went to the little prayer room down stairs. I tired again to come before the Lord with the defeat because I know that what he really wants is whatever is there. I sat before him saying something like, "I'm not doing anything. I'm not coming up with anything to get out of this situation. What are you doing with someone like me? I'm doing it all wrong. I'm doing life all wrong. I don't know how to do it right, have a right thought or come up with a pleasing idea or plan for happiness."

And then so strangely as I was pouring out the self defeat I felt a stern presence and Jesus say he loves me, adores and cherishes me right now, but it was not relieving. It was burning coal held to my pride. I could hardly bear to hear it. I objected, "that can't possibly be true" and him saying back "it is." The thought and presence of his love washed over me, while I continued to find it unbelievable, while my pride wished that I had done something to make him proud and worthy of his love. He did not relent. I did not melt, but wanted to.

I did feel seen. I felt his patience. I felt that he was holding me tightly and I did feel that somehow this is what real love is about. Things aren't well, but he offers his love now. I got up, and went back to work hoping that the stone in my chest would crack and let it in, so that all the other voices would perish and I would walk freely into his love.

Later, much later, in the day I stopped agreeing with the defeat and agreed with his love and his perfect unseen plan. I even agreed that I must also be patient with me, especially when I feel the pressure of everyone else's expectations pressing up against me and the pride in me that wants to have a good answer for people when they ask.

The new room

2008-05-29T10:12:00.000-06:00

I don't know if you'll be bored with it, but I find it endlessly fascinating what the change in my bedroom has done to me.

Point one - Clothes are no longer collecting on the chair they are hung up or put in the hamper right away. I had no idea this would be a byproduct of rearranging the furniture in the room. My theory is that the chair is now blocked by the bed. Either I hang the clothes back up or walk all the way around the bed to the chair (that's silly). I can't put the clothes on the bed because I'm going to sleep in it. Amazing! This is a life long battle and the chair has really served as more of a hanger as long as it's been in my room. I actually sit in the chair now!

Point two - The bed gets made every day. I think there are two reasons for this. First, I bought a beautiful pillow to display on the bed. It makes me happy to see all the pillows stacked neatly with it in front. Second, the bed is no longer along the wall, but in the center of the room, so it's not like arm wrestling to get the bed spread nice and smooth. I just flip the covers up and it's done. How exciting!

Point three - I want to lay in bed and read in the evening. There are two reasons for this. First the lamp is now next to the bed so when I get sleepy as I'm reading I don't have to get up out of bed to turn off the light. I'm sure you all know how annoying that can be. The second reason is that I now have a night stand of sorts, it's a filing cabinet, next to the bed to set my book, glasses and phone on (which is my alarm). I don't have to set it all on the floor and wonder if I'll step on it as I get out of bed in the morning. The only thing that would make this situation more perfect is if it were an actual night stand and the lamp was on it. Well . . . something to look forward to ; )

I wonder what other changes this new arrangement will lead to?

Old Job, New Bedroom

2008-05-27T10:14:00.003-06:00

So I didn't get the job I applied for. I found out Thursday after work. They were gracious about it and even apologetic for having drug me through the process and then hiring internally in the end.

After crying for a while, mostly over the miserable thought of going back to work the next day with no hope in site for an exit, I felt ok. I started to move forward again.

I've just been in a waiting mode ever since I applied and I've been putting some things off I've wanted to do. On Friday when I came home from work I had so much energy I reorganized all the furniture in my room. I've been dreaming for years of having a room that was just a bedroom, not my office or computer room or TV room, but just a bedroom, a peaceful place where I can relax. I packed up all the things I thought I couldn't live with out, but can. It was really amazing because for the first time in five or six years everything has a place. There was no random object left that I didn't know what to do with. I even went through the pile (you know the pile) that keeps shifting around for months because you don't know what to do with it. There isn't a piece of paper left laying around haunting me.

The walls had remained undecorated because they are plaster and require predrilling holes in order to hammer a nail into it. I got over the obstacle asked the neighbor if I could borrow their drill and hung pictures, curtain rods and a decorative sconce. I'm giddy, I love my new room. I even allowed myself to purchase a few throw pillows and some sheers.

So even though I'm still here in the old job I've got a new bedroom that makes me happy every time I walk into it.

What to make of dreams?

2008-05-21T09:18:00.001-06:00

Last night I dreamed about all the dissatisfying or broken things in my life, right down to the dripping faucet in the bath tub.

I laid down with all hope of receiving pleasant life giving dreams. I woke up wondering why I dwelled all night in the impossibles of my life. Center stage where two relationships that have and are breaking my heart. One is from my distant past and one is currently, ongoingly, constantly throwing itself in my face.

It's this last one that I really didn't want to spend my restorative sleeping hours mucked up in. I awoke feeling unclean, unholy and as if somehow I had failed my lord again by what I am still holding onto and cannot let go of, not even when I'm sleeping.

Maybe it wouldn't be so upsetting if I hadn't have read what I did before I went to bed. It was a passage from Psalm 68. I discovered it yesterday morning and kept reading it through the day. It arrested me with it's beauty and power and promise.

When you went out before your people, O God,
when you marched through
the wasteland,
the earth shook,

the heavens poured down
rain before God, the One of Sinai,
before God, the God of
Israel.

You gave abundant showers, O God;
you refreshed your
weary inheritance.

Your people settled in it,
and from your bounty, O God, you
provided for the poor.

So when I laid down I hoped I'd dream about this, that I would wake up refreshed, that the weariness would have been washed away by all that God filled rain.

As I'm writing this now though, I've begun to have a kinder thought for myself. Maybe it wasn't just me doing the dreaming. Maybe God was throwing up to me all the things that he is going to march through and shake. Maybe I don't have to blame myself here for not letting go and dwelling on these old things and not trusting him. Maybe he was just letting me remember the litany so that when it all changes, when the bounty comes, I'll remember where I started and that he hasn't missed a thing not even that dam drippy faucet.

Psalm 68:19

2008-05-20T09:36:00.000-06:00

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior,
who daily bears our burdens.

Our God is a God who saves;
from the Sovereign Lord comes escape from death.

Psalm 68:19

This verse appeared in my reading for today. A needed and gracious reminder that not only is he able, but delighted to bear for us and to save. It makes me feel more eager to let him.

Bad Religion (caution there is some swearing)

2008-05-19T16:08:00.000-06:00

I heard it today, a phrase that always enrages me.

It came from some poor soul, labouring, struggling, crumbling underneath a tragedy. Her husband died a month ago. Then yesterday her son tells her that he is gay. She tells me this and then she says, "I know the Lord doesn't give us more than we can handle, but . . . "

I wanted to shoot someone (the someone who came up with this) I think this is the biggest load of bullshit, misinterpretation of God's character I've ever heard. I mean try saying this to Gideon. What do you think he might say back? Can we honestly look at those circumstances and say "you can handle this Gideon." No, and that is the point. We can't and God went to great lengths to prove that.

If you look at the whole Biblical Narrative, God is saying pretty often, pretty clearly that He is the one who is going to do the saving, that we can't do the saving, that we need to confess our dependency on him, that we need to repent of "handling" it.

And what does handle mean anyway. I get the idea that we think we ought to stay sane and stable under these tragedies, keep our perfect demeanor's, a cheery outlook. Say "oh thank you Lord, for these painful things." When really we may be pretty angry, at him even.

All I'm saying is it's a lie. If we think we need to bear up and handle it then we miss what God might really want from us. We will miss the chance for God to comfort us in our lament. We miss the chance to speak honestly to God about our anger and for him to speak honestly back. Do you really think he isn't aware that you're angry. And if we think that we ought to be one way, even that God is requiring we be that way, then how do we ever get to the other side, all the way through to his redemption and his embrace.

I happened to come across the verse that I think people take so wildly out of context and get this "bearing" idea from. It's 1 Corinthians 10:13, "No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it."

I hope that is clear enough, the bearing is about temptation (and even here, God says you can't handle it all so I've made a way for you.) It's not about bearing the pain of being orphaned, or widowed, or estranged. Which are states the he clearly says we are to have the utmost compassion for and for whom the rest of us are to give our lives in service to.

I just feel incensed by these kinds of pious, religious sounding messages. The kingdom is about God bearing for us. The Kingdom community is about us bearing with each other.

I know you probably all get this. I just needed to say it.

Learning to Fly

2008-05-16T09:49:00.000-06:00

You'll have to forgive the pinging around on this one. I'm not in a clear state at the moment.

So hearing the Tom Petty song in the grocery store the other day reminded me of a few of his other song that I love. He writes anthem songs. "Learning to Fly" has been one of mine for a long time.

Well I started out down a dirty road
Started out all alone
And the sun went down as I crossed the hill
The town lit up the world got still

Im learning to fly but I aint got wings
Comin down is the hardest thing

Well the good old days may not return
And the rocks might melt, and the sea may burn

Im learning to fly but I aint got wings
Comin down is the hardest thing

Well some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I started out for God knows where
But I guess Ill know when I get there

Im learning to fly around the clouds
But what goes up must come down
Im learning to fly but I aint got wings
Comin down is the hardest thing

Im learning to fly around the clouds
But what goes up must come down

Im learning to fly
Im learning to fly

As someone who has felt there wings clipped, or stunted, this song says a lot about what it's like to learn about the wings you are suppose to have and use and what happens as you learn. I wish it was all more clear than this. In some ways no one can tell you what you're suppose to do. You are always the one who has to make the choice, in the end you're the only one that answers for it all. Thank the Lord (I mean that) that he is full of mercy.

But I want so much to stop going haphazardly along. I want to make a choice in my life that I'm sure of, that has a sure intention in it. I don't want to be constantly driven along by my dissatisfaction or desperation. Part of why I've stayed in this same place for so long is to aviod all the upheaval and wind up in the same sort of dissatisfaction. I'm not sure I know how to let that go. I don't think I need to know where exactly it's all going, but I'd like to make a sure choice about the road I'm getting on becuase I've found a lot of dirty ones that didn't get anywhere close to where I'd hoped.

I do believe in God's sovereignty on the road. I trust that where I wind up is accounted for. And maybe, the road is not as important as who I am and who He is along the way. I believe that he believes in my flight and wants to see me fly. Here's the trouble, right now I believe more than ever in my ability to fly, I can feel what I might look like, but I'm grounded. I've been grounded for a long while. It's hard to bear that. I wonder if it's my fault, if I'm grounding myself or if God's grounding me. It's so hard to keep leaning into him when I feel like I'm failing him all the time. But I usually find that when I dare enough to lean in, his voice is always kind and always loving even when he's correcting me. Even as I write this I feel him asking me to let the failng go, it's up to him. Some how I just don't believe that he could be this patient with me.

Again. . . Lord have Mercy on me that I might believe.

The Waiting

2008-05-12T14:43:00.000-06:00

It's been one of those days. I actually pleaded with God at lunch to not have to come back to work. I tried to argue that I've been responsible and I’ve faithfully come back at least a thousand times. Couldn't he come up with a legitimate reason for me not to return this afternoon? Please, please . . . pretty please?

Well I'm back and the whole thing reminds me of something I saw yesterday.

I took a little walk in the afternoon to try and wake myself up after a nap. I was walking down one side of the street and from the other side of the street, down at the other end of the block, I could hear a child wailing and crying. It was immediately recognizable as a sort of self pitying, I didn't get my way, my life is ruined, cry. I looked around thinking there would be a few children hanging about; maybe they had gotten in a fight or something. As I tried to make out where and what tyranny might be unfolding, I saw a lone boy riding his bike up the street toward me. The more I looked and listened the more I realized that all this noise was coming from him. As he wailed and peddled and shouted his way closer, I began to make out what he was saying. "I hate her, I hate her, she's the worst mother in the world, I hate her!" He spewed it all the way by me without a flinch. I don’t know if he didn’t see me or he just didn’t care.

Along with all sorts of other things bubbling around in me as I witnessed this, was the cringe of recognition I had as I felt his strain to find a curse deep enough to match the disappointment. In someway too, there was the bolstering to try and convince himself that she really was the worst mother in the world, maybe evil incarnate.

What a relief it would be if she was. There would be no requirement, no responsibility to obey or honor such a person. He could be free to disregard her and go and do or be whatever he liked without question.

So as I drove back to work today under the unction of responsibility to my employer this little boy’s cry leapt to life in me. There was this seizing of self pity and anger. I actually shed a few tears as I drove onto the premises and walked very slowly back inside. I might have been tempted, like the boy, to accuse God of being unloving and even cruel if it hadn’t of been for something that happened about forty minutes earlier at the beginning of my lunch hour.

I left for lunch in a hurry eager to get away from the phone and to hear myself think without interruption, maybe even to hear what God might be thinking about my situation.

And here’s the situation, as best as I can say in a short space. It’s really more that I’ve been in a state of intense longing lately. I won’t try to name the nature or circumstances of it all, but you could say I’m in a state of meta-longing. One of the keenest things I’m longing for these days is for a deeper intimacy with Jesus. Which I’ve been cultivating for awhile, but the longing has gone deeper than what I can get at and so I’m waiting. I’m waiting for God to do what I cannot. By the lunch hour today I was distressed by it all and bordering on exhaustion with it. I left work and went to Whole Foods full of my angst. As I’m wondering up the prepared foods aisle I hear Tom Petty singing this refrain,

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to heart
The waiting is the hardest part

Everything in me looked up, expecting God to be right above my head. And the dawning came over me. "I’m not lost to you? You know? You know, you see and you know and now I’m crying, I’ve got actually tears in my eyes right here next to the sushi. You love me and you haven’t left, you followed me to the grocery store and you know about the waiting. Thank you . . . thank you."

The Lord is relentless and He loves me, even if I have to go back to where I don’t want to be and do what I don’t want to do. One day I won’t, but God knows that the waiting is the hardest part.

Sunshine Sue

2008-05-09T09:48:00.000-06:00

It's been an emotional week. On Wednesday this beautiful woman I work with died. She had been out of the office since January. She left work one morning not feeling well and wound up in surgery by the afternoon, which led to the discovery of cancer. No one expected her to not make it through. I was anticipating her return, waiting to renew our daily banter, waiting to have her back and improve on our friendship.

The refrain has been that she could make anyone her best friend.

She adopted me in that way too. She took me into her office one day and we had a long chat about me. She let me know what she saw in me beyond what so many come up with at first glance and that was a priceless moment; one that I needed right at that time.

She was a person I wanted to be like, alive with faith and hope that comes from honest engagement with the struggles in her life. She loved God and a prayer from her was some of the best medicine a person could get. I rejoice to see her standing with Jesus, relieved at last of her own heavy burdens and struggle. Sweet tears of pain roll down. I wanted more of her wisdom and laughter and jesting at life.

For now there is the strange blanket of grief settled over us. We oscillate back and forth from sorrow to joy to sorrow to numbness and around again. I am heartened by the depth of caring and love this group of people has for one another. I'm reminded that even in the dissatisfaction of my job, the people here doing this work are some of the best people I've known.

Caring

2008-05-06T14:46:00.000-06:00

I was just out walking on my 15 minute break. I was thinking about caring about things. I mean having a passion for specific things like trees for example.

I was thinking about the lost stewardship of the earth and that if God had originally designed us to take care of it and continue to cultivate all that's in the earth then he must have put a desire in each of us for some specific thing, more specific than someone else.

I wondered about what my more specific was. What do I just care about more than my neighbor does? What am I called to remind my neighbor of in that caring? What do they remind me of that I don't feel as deeply about?

I thought about creatures. I care a little more for horses than some. I thought about God. I care a little more for worship than some. I thought about words. I care a little more for words than some. These things continue to mark me and form many of the decisions I've made. I can hear God blessing the caring, "yes, this is from me" he says. "It's not a mistake, you are not mistaken. Take up your stewardship again."

Orange Poppies

2008-05-01T10:30:00.000-06:00

Poppies

By Mary Oliver

The Poppies send up their
orange flare; swaying
in the wind, their congregations
are a levitation

of bright dust, of thin
and lacy leaves.There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't

sooner or later drown
in the indigos of darkness,
but for now, for a while,
the roughage

shines like a miracle
as it floats above everything
with its yellow hair.
Of course nothing stops the cold,

black, curved blade
from hooking forward---
of course
loss is the great lesson.

But I also say this: that light
is an invitation
to happiness,
and that happiness,

when it's done right,
is a kind of holiness,
palpable and redemptive.
Inside the bright fields,

touched by their rough and spongy gold,
I am washed and washed
in the river
of earthly delight---

and what are you going to do ---
what can you do
about it---
deep, blue night?

Almost There

2008-04-28T11:04:00.000-06:00

This is the picture in my mind about life most of the time. Just over the hill, just through the trees I can almost make out that thing I've been longing for. Everything wells up inside as I look out to that horizon, but I feel like I've been standing in this same spot a long time never quite making it. It's getting harder to let hope well up into the open air.

But here comes the salty damp breeze and the rushing waves of the sea and I am betrayed again into the longing. Nothing in me can help it. Nothing in me wants to when the sand touches my feet. I run like a fool till I fall in a hole or hit a tree and lie there waiting for another breeze.

I've done this enough now to fear it, but know that if I'm going to get anywhere I have to give in and follow the hope in the next wind.

Lord have mercy.

Christian Zeal and Activity

2008-04-22T10:19:00.000-06:00

I found this song on NPR it's an orchestral piece by John Adams call Christian Zeal and Activity. What's really moving and powerful is that he uses a recording of a a man preaching on Jesus Healing on the Sabbath. It a great mediation. Thought I'd share it.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=89145711

2008-04-16T09:06:00.000-06:00

It's spring. The weather of course is crazy, sun, snow, rain, fog, sun, rinse, repeat. I love and hate it. I'd prefer that the warm weather and the flowers and the green would just arrive. Sunday was such a beautiful day. The whole day was car window down warm and sunny. I went for a walk and by the end of the day my nose and neck were pink.

The weather reminds me of something trying to break open and live. This reminds me of the lines of a poem. Forgive me I'll only quote part of it. It is from the poem "What is the Beautiful," by Kenneth Patchen

Pause.

And begin again.
Perhaps the shapes will open.
Will flying fly?
Will Singing have a song?
Will the shapes of evil fall?
Will the lives of men grow clean?
Will the power be for good?
Will the power of man find its sun?
Will the power of man flame as a sun?
Will the power of man turn against death?

. . . And begin again.
I know that the shapes will open.
Flying will fly, and singing will sing.

I think of resurrection, of all things being made new. When spring comes things become more themselves than they've been. I'm longing for the twigs that are barely passing for trees right now to begin to have leaves. We are still in the fit of wondering if we will make it to the long days of warmth and sun. Yesterday was somewhere in the 70's but today it's chilly and another storm is coming.

A skirt in the wind

2008-04-10T13:05:00.001-06:00

Of all the days to miss the loop hole for wearing a skirt to work (yes it's mandatory to wear a skirt where I work unless the forecasted high for the day is above 40 degrees) today was not the day.

I had to leave the building to go to lunch. I would have stayed but the cafeteria is closed.

So out into the wind. I got five steps out the door and my skirt was about over my head. Hmm. . . so much for modesty at my conservative job.

It's made me a little grumpy today.

Revelation and Forming

2008-04-09T12:25:00.000-06:00

"It came by revelation" . . . "till Christ be formed in you." Galatians

I'm swimming around in these two realities. Longing for both.

There is such a tension between these two statements. They are Paul's from Galatians. I'm caught between longing for revelation that transforms, as it did Paul and then the fact that there is a "forming" also. I've had my share of transforming moments. I've had my share of forming. I suppose I'm longing more for the former to occur at the moment, a revelation of who Jesus is and what he means to me that compels me with longing to share with others who he is.

Sunday Ken, the pastor at IAC, addressed the need for revelation so that we may go out and make disciples. God winks at me, letting me know that he is stirring desire for him within me along with everybody else.

I have to say there is a great deal of confusion that happens in my own heart as I hear the go out part. I don't feel like I have gone out in my Christian life, at least not where it's really counted. I think many believers feel this way. We wind up with a great deal of condemnation for not being more fanatic. I'm not sure fanatic is the word I'm looking for, but perhaps it's more like earnest or sure. I confess there is a lot about my faith I don't think I could ever hope to defend to a skeptic, and I even feel how keenly I don't want to defend. What I would really like to happen is to just love. I want to love by speaking truth but not wind up in platitudes. I want all those things we say about Jesus and faith in him to hit the heart of it all when I speak it to someone.

Later this week I read something in Acts that stirred me even more. Peter says to a crippled beggar "Sliver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk." And the man does. I suppose this is what I'm looking for. Yes, I would love for the Spirit of God to heal through me like this, but also what ever measure I have I want to give.

What kind of horse are you?

2008-04-08T09:14:00.000-06:00

A bit of fun for a horsey lover. What kind of horse are you?

I am "the majestic Andalusian, a brilliant white equine with kind eyes and a flowing mane. Your nature is very gentle and willing, and you are likely to perform movements in the haute ecole. You are generous and classical, your love of romance brings you to many places, especially in Europe. Your old-fashioned tastes are refreshing in this all-to-tacky modern world. A famous andalusian is Shadowfax, who appears in the second book (and movie) of Lord of the Rings. You will likely live in Spain or France and have a wealthy, possibly Royal, owner.Your coat color is most likely: White, grey, or dapple."

I feel satisfied with this. I hope I can live up to such a classification ; )

What breed of horse are you? Find out!

Out of touch

2008-04-07T08:42:00.000-06:00

Sorry to have been rather quiet these last couple weeks. I've been sort of bogged down in stuff. Ok, ok stuff. . . what do I mean by stuff? Well. . . I suppose I mean relational, and work stuff, and what's the meaning of my life and why can't I make myself happy, or figure out what makes me happy and do it. Ya know the really light easy to handle stuff. So I've refrained from dragging you all along with me.

The stuff has been heightened lately because my roommate has been out of town for over a week now leaving me to spend way to much time alone. Also I'm trying to get another job, which I've interviewed for and taken their test and still haven't heard anything about. I'd really like the job. One of the major perks would be that I would not have to answer a phone. The second delightful thing would be I'd actually get to write. The third is that I would actually be working for a ministry I whole heartedly believe in.

Anyway, there are things to discuss if I can come out from under the fog.

1 Peter 1:8

2008-03-27T10:06:00.000-06:00

Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy. 1 Peter 1:8

Yes

I love Him.

What I have not seen, what I have not heard, I know . . . I love.

Do you know what this beloved one also says?

The one I have called not my loved one, will be called my beloved.

and

The one that has not sought or looked for me, will find me.

I am undone.
I was the one.

I found love from Him who opens the way for every heart, who calls to all, in all ways, to come home to love the one they have longed for and have never seen.

Be filled with joy.
You may find the one you did not know to look for.

Easter Has Come

2008-03-25T10:02:00.000-06:00

Opening
By Elizabeth Rooney

Now is the shining fabric of our day
Torn open, flung apart,
Rent wide by Love.
Never again
The tight, enclosing sky,
The blue bowl,
Or the star-illumined tent.
We are laid open to infinity,
For Easter Love
Has burst His tomb and ours.
Now nothing shelters us
From God’s desire -Not flesh, not sky,
Not stars, not even sin.
Now Glory waits
So He can enter in.
Now does the dance begin.

Palm Sunday

2008-03-17T13:20:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, the begging of the end of Jesus' temporal life.

A layman gave the sermon. I don't remember what he said, as much as what the Spirit said.

Jesus suffers.

Can we suffer with him this week? That was the question at first. It was tempting to hear that question and get to abstract with it. Suffering is just to large a category in life. I heard a simple voice saying not all suffering, not even your neighbor's suffering, don't drag your self down in things you have to guess about. Think about the suffering you do know about and just that, it's more than enough to walk with and then as your walking know that He's taking it on too. Jesus is suffering this week as you are. That's enough.

You can look at it because he's right there with you and he knows.

He is not far off judging you in the midst of it.

In His time, he was betrayed by a friend to be executed, the rest denied they even knew him. He was unjustly executed by the powers that be. He was publicly shamed stripped naked, beaten.

He knew every kind of suffering a human could know, and then in the last moments he knew the ultimate suffering that we know; to be cut off from the creator, our first love and the one for whom we were made. When I think of that I can look into Jesus' face and exchange a knowing look. He knows as we do what it's like to be cast out from home.

Here is the savior who came all the way into our suffering and stayed there. He did not leave. He did not look away. He did not judge. Not this week, though that's what everyone was hoping for. That's what the palms where about, hailing the king who was suppose to reign.

The crowd, his friends, even us, were looking for an end of suffering through judgement, not an end by redemption.

This week I will enter the suffering with courage because he has done it and can show the way.

The Wedding

2008-03-16T08:13:00.001-06:00

First, thank you all for your kind and supportive comments and prayers for me in the last few days.

We actually got to rehearse all the music on Thursday night, which put many anxieties to rest.

The song I led was for the recessional at the end. So I had already sung harmonies on the other songs through the wedding. I was nice and warmed up and relaxed when I started singing. I felt confident. However, what I don't know is that my microphone is not working. I know some of you may think how could she not hear that, well the speakers for the audience are in front of the musicians and we don't hear what you hear.

I get through the first verse and chorus and I see the lady in the sound booth waving frantically and pointing at the mic. I get it, no one can hear me. Indignation rises in me, I look around and see that Mark who is playing mandolin has a mic. He's not using it, so I grab it. It's working and thank the lord at least some people heard me sing that song. The bride and groom didn't, but I think they were to happy to mind.

Mostly I'm feeling unaffected by it all at the moment even chuckling at the comedy of it and not taking myself to serriously.

The Sunflowers

2008-03-13T16:20:00.000-06:00

By Mary Oliver

Come with me
into the field of sunflowers.
Their faces are burnished disks,
their dry spines

creak like ship masts,
their green leaves,
so heavy and many,
fill all day with the sticky

sugars of the sun.
Come with me
to visit the sunflowers,
they are shy

but want to be friends;
they have wonderful stories
of when they were young--
the important weather,

the wandering crows.
Don't be afraid
to ask them questions!
Their bright faces,

which follow the sun,
will listen, and all
those rows of seeds--
each one a new life!--

hope for a deeper aquaintance;
each of them, though it stands
in a crowd of many,
like a separate universe,

is lonely, the long work
of turning their lives
into a celebration
is not easy. Come

and let us talk with those modest faces,
the simple garments of leaves,
the coarse roots in the earth
so uprightly burning.

Limitations

2008-03-12T10:09:00.000-06:00

I've been facing limitations lately; limitations of time, energy, relationships and my own abilities.

At my job there are a lot of frustrating limitations. Today is Wednesday and I have to tell people that are looking for immediate help that they cannot talk to a counselor until Friday. I'm dreading every phone call today because there are bound to be a few really desperate people I will have to disappoint.

I'm coming up against limitations in relationships. The older everyone gets the harder it is to have access. In college everyone was together all the time, but now most people my age have husbands and children, everything must be planned and scheduled. Spontaneity is hard to come by and I confess I relied on spontaneity to form and maintain friendships. I have to work harder and make more intentional choices. It takes more time these day's for me to discover a person and find a rhythm in our friendship.

Last night at Bible study I was so tired that I hardly had the energy to engage anyone, but I wanted to be able to. I needed to get home and go to sleep, but I hadn't seen anyone for several weeks. I wound up staying longer than I planned talking to people afterwards, but feeling the tension of how unsatisfying the quality of my conversation was because I was so tired.

I'm feeling limitations in my abilities. I'm suppose to sing for a wedding this Sunday. I'm excited. I've been practicing the song, but I'm fearful that it won't sound good. It's work and I can feel the limitations of my voice. I'd like it to sound a certain way, but it doesn't. It's not bad, it's just not a certain thing that it seems might be more acceptable. I'm trying to drop the expectation and just sing from my heart, but it's getting buried in the struggle. I'd just like to be who I am and have that be enough. This feeling goes further than singing. Singing has a way of bringing up all my fears and insecurities. It's a vulnerable act to put your voice out in the world.

Word Filled Week

2008-03-07T14:47:00.000-07:00

Is it Friday?

All possible words have occupied themselves elsewhere this week. They've been wrestling to arrange themselves into a brilliant and enticing manner within the confines of a job application. They've been busy voting each other off the story of Erica'a spiritual journey till only 1000 contestants were left. In the end, they had a nice mixture of perfunctory and entertaining vignettes to entice the perspective employer into voting Erica onto the island of satisfying, well paying work.

They sincerely hope to return next week with beautiful and sagacious reflections for your reading pleasure (well at least for hers).

Mercy

2008-03-03T08:06:00.000-07:00

Romans 11:32

"For God has bound all men over to disobedience so that he may have mercy on them all."

These words bring me a strange sort of relief today. It makes me feel not so hopeless about sin. God loves to give mercy so much that he's willing to let us be disobedient just so that we can experience His mercy and grace. When you see your sinfulness, mercy melts your heart and deepens love toward the one who shows mercy. This statement shatters illusions of control and causes me to tremble in awe before this God. Holy fear arises in my heart making me want to keep looking at Him to see what he will do next.

Surely He knows my heart better than any other and especially better than me.

Wordless

2008-02-27T11:39:00.000-07:00

Word

I, who live by words, am wordless when
I try my words in prayer. All language turns
To silence. Prayer will take my words and then
Reveal their emptiness. The stilled voice learns
To hold its peace, to listen with the heart
To silence that is joy, is adoration.
The self is shattered, all words torn apart
In this strange patterned time of contemplation
That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,
And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.
I leave, returned to language, for I see
Through words, even when all words are ended.
I, who live by words, am wordless when
I turn me to the Word to pray. Amen

-Madeline L'Engle

Oh, thank you Madeline, you are a good friend. I've felt wordless lately, in prayer and worship, not because there is nothing to express, but there are just no names. Every word threatens to make what is Holy, a whore, cheap and sellable. Only aching or rocking or whispering His name will do. Words chase the glory away, chase away His moving in my spirit. Song comes closer, but I cannot abide ascribed words, I fall silent again.I long for new words, Oh Lord help me sing something new about you, something that has lay there all along waiting. Let me "return to language" and see again.

Seeing?

2008-02-26T17:44:00.000-07:00

I tried to see if there was something intresting or inspiring or thought provoking that I could write about today and post. I couldn't find it.

I got home and thought maybe I would put something up that someone else wrote that I find interesting or inspiring or thought provoking, so I went to my little quote book. Here is what I found.

"Poets are at the mercy of what they see."
-Kathleen Norris.

Yep. Still as true as the day I wrote it down.

Making Sense?

2008-02-21T11:48:00.000-07:00

I haven’t written much this week because I’ve been a little consumed with things that aren’t that blogable (is that a word? It could/should be.)

What’s been on my mind is the very difficult and hard experience I had in Seattle at graduate school. The invitation to give a presentation at work on a counseling topic has had me thinking about it. Also it happens that recently I’ve heard reports of a law suit brought by a former professor of mine against the school.

I visited a blog, perhaps foolishly, where many former students where airing their views about that situation and about the school. As I read what former students where saying it was validating to hear a partial expression of what was wrong. I wasn’t crazy. It was a very confusing situation and it’s very difficult to express to people who weren’t there what was so desperately wrong.

I’ve thought a lot about that experience and what it is that the founders and teachers where missing. What was it that, while we spoke deeply and truthfully about the gospel, made us miss the gospel all together? We missed the healing power of the gospel. We missed the very Spirit of God showing up to shepherd us. We missed a community of believers that could kindly restore us. No one offered me the Spirit of God for my ailing soul. No one offered me the grace of a healing prayer for my wounds.

We lingered to long in the dark regions of the human heart? A bit like the Dwarves in The Lord of the Rings, who “delved too greedily and to deep and awoke a demon of the ancient world." That’s what it felt like, a lot of the time, every demon awake and on the prowl and no one believing that the power of God had been given by His Spirit to stop it.

I don’t mean this to be an airing of grievances. It’s really not that helpful. I’ve spent plenty of time being riled up and angered by it. But I do need to express the great sadness I feel for those I trusted and who let me down, for myself who went looking for bread and got stones. I believe more than ever today in God’s healing power. I believe more than ever in His grace and mercy to cover me, and to cover all those who founded, ran or have ever attended this school. May the grace of the Lord be with us.

Fear and the Prodigal Son

2008-02-18T08:42:00.000-07:00

"The only fear that ultimately makes sense is to fear God because if we keep our eyes on God out of fear, we will always discover that he loves us."

I came across this statement in the “The Life Model.” It's one of those wildly paradoxical statements that fills me with awe and wonder. I just had to share it with the rest of you.

I think it also points me to how little I know about love. I think I will get one thing, and then God surprises me with something I didn't expect or deserve.

Yesterday was the 2nd Sunday of lent. The reading and preaching was on the story of the prodigal son. What was highlighted in the story was that the son, once he realized he could do better back at the fathers house returned, but he wasn't yet repentant. He had a fine speech prepared with the proper amount of groveling, but his heart hadn't really turned. I'd say he was looking at his father out of fear, but while he was still a long way off (in his heart). The father ran to him, and then he discovered he was loved. In the presence of his fathers kindness and love he realized he had turned against someone, who was never against him. He had left the one who always had every thing he had been out looking for.

It's reliving to know that even repentance is always preceded by God's act of kindness. We fear Him and then find that He loves us in a way we could never predict or imagine.

My First Lesson in Worship

2008-02-15T16:59:00.000-07:00

It took me a long while to really understand worship. When I moved back to Colorado about 5 years ago I was not on good terms with God. I didn’t feel he was loving toward me, nor did I have a whole lot of loving thoughts for myself. I believed, but only by faith. Rarely did I have an experience or feeling that God loved me. Daily life was megaphone loud with his absence.

I’m stubborn though and so I kept hanging on to faith but longing for more. I didn’t want to just live in the realm of propositions and mere intellectual accent. I wanted to know the gospel was real and real for me. I wanted to be the intimate friend of the Lord that the scriptures talked about. I wanted to know His favor and love. Fortunately, there were enough saints around me that had struggled like I was and whom I trusted. An integral part of there lives was frequent worship.

I was pretty cynical about worship. I disliked and was even incensed with worship music, most of it seemed cheesy and seemed to ignore the darkness I battled with and especially the battle I had with loving God. How could I sing lines like, “I could sing of your love forever,” when I wasn’t even sure I could say it once? If there is anything I truly dislike its dishonesty. But I knew I had to try something, or else nothing may ever change. I would at least give my self a chance to put my self in the way of His presence. I started to occasionally attend a music worship service on Friday’s.

It went badly. God never seemed to show up. I’d leave in the same state of mind I came in with, sometimes worse. I did a lot of complaining about the lyrics of the songs, especially if it was upbeat and peppy. I couldn’t stand peppy. I complained about my life. I tried not complaining, I tried to hear something different than the normal train of thought in my head. I sat, I stood, I sang, I was quiet and mostly there was nothing. I felt like a fraud amidst the people around me that seemed so into it. Did they know I was not into it? Did they know that I was really an outsider, that I was not really experiencing God, that I could not say I was His friend?

I went on like this for sometime. I don’t really recall how long, maybe a year, till one Friday came around. I was unemployed at the time, which made the days pretty difficult, unending and unsure. I went to noon worship, more as something to do than as something to restore my soul.

It was no good. I felt the same and now disappointed. I felt like my chance was over. Usually I would concede and leave immediately, but when the music ended I just couldn’t get up. I sat there while the band packed there things and prepared to leave. Just then someone I’d never seen before sat down at the piano and started to play.

It was beautiful. Where had he come from? Where was this music coming from? Why weren’t more people here listening to this? At first I was mistrustful as I listened. I didn’t believe it could be as good as I was hearing. I kept waiting for something cheesy, or cliché, or for one dishonest note, but as he kept playing my cynical skeptic was run off, the tension left my body and I melted into the chair. The music was so easy to be with. I didn’t have to fight with it or rewrite it in my mind.

But the most important thing in that moment was I let myself believe it was from God, for me. Even though I was sitting there in a mess, he opened the door and let His beautiful self wash over me.

That was my first true experience with what worship is; to be all present with who you are in the presence of who He is. The door had been cracked opened, wide enough to hold a light of hope for me so I could find it again.

A few things

2008-02-12T08:53:00.000-07:00

I was late to work this morning. I wondered about when I would get coffee. I walked into my cubicle and there on the desk was a grande cup of Starbucks. My coffee benefactor had come through at the right moment. I grined for several minutes about it.

It's going to be a ruff week, there was a broadcast about marriage and infidelity. They announced that people could call for counseling. Yikes, I hope I make it out of this week with out a hefty dose of cynisism about marriage or men.

Needless to say, since I do most of my blogging at work between phone calls, I may not be posting much this week. Well see how it goes.

Joining the Chorus

2008-02-09T13:24:00.000-07:00

Two advent seasons ago, Jan Meyers facilitated a wonderful retreat. In that retreat she brought up the idea or question of how we join the enemy's chorus. (I think that's close to how she phrased it. I don't remember the exact terms she used.) But this idea has floated up to me again today.

Primarily it is a question of how we have joined with the lies he tells us about ourselves. This morning I've been reflecting on some lies I've received as truth about myself (some really insidious ones, the kind that I wrote about in "Quieter Commitments").

It's sobering to realize that although someone has been cruel to you that in order to navigate that cruelty you've been crueler to yourself. This joining, this writing of your own line to make some harmony in the hopes of making those dissonant notes less unsettling is the playground of the enemy. As long as he can keep you listening to his song he can hold sway and keep you from real life and from knowing salvation.

I was angry as I thought about these things. I was angry with what was done and appalled with how I've agreed with and joined the lies. Helplessness creeps at the door here. How do I change, how do I come before the God of Truth and be made whole? Revelation is powerful and sometimes feels as if that is all that is needed, but it doesn't always produce repentance. I think I feel the pressure of needing a sudden all at once change to feel that it's real, but this may take time.

I'm draw to remember that it is Lent and this is the time to understand the darkness and need of our life before the Glory of Easter morning.

Justice and Judgment

2008-02-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

Today I'm very aware of the need for justice and judgment. Unfortunately, I'm also aware that I've behaved in manners (recently) worthy of judgment. I see it pretty clearly (well that's all ways questionable) and all the judgment language in the Bible is actually comforting in this moment. It's comforting because there is a lot of stuff around me that deserves justice and punishment. I've heard, and I've done, a lot of railing against God about why he allows so much pain and suffering. But if you look at it, He says pretty often and clearly that He doesn't like what's going on either.

I know the question that follows a statement like that "why does he allow it to continue?" It's a painful question. I don't know. Maybe it was foolish to bring it up. But (and I say this to myself mostly) it feels crazy that when we ask these questions about suffering and then part of the answer God gives is your responsible and I don't like what your doing. We think He's being too mean.

We really don't want to see, maybe because we feel helpless, we feel more like bystanders than participants. But he made us participants, co-creators. He didn't make angels co-creators, He made them servants. That is a striking difference. He seems to not want to violate His own design and intention for us as co-creating beings, even if we wind up co-creating with His enemy. That one baffles me.

Today I trust God, I trust His judgment, even if that means He has to point out how I'm on the wrong side of things. It's easier to trust when you remember that He also says I want you to be on the right side of things and I've made a way for you to end up on the right side.

Lord teach us to carry judgment and mercy together. Let not either drive us to insanity. Help us return to co-creating with you.
Amen

What the Ash Said

2008-02-06T09:47:00.000-07:00

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” The priest words hover as he marks me with a cross. As I return to my pew warmth and the feel of soft ash linger on my forehead like a kiss, as if God Himself bent down.

I’m relieved. I hear the ash saying one day I’ll blow away, be elemental again, fly off into the wind with pleasure. Finally, I’ll slough off all the vanity. It won’t matter the quality of my voice, or hair, or eyes. It won’t matter if I’m styled, or how much success I had, but of course then we’ll all see what mattered the least.

I feel free, as the ash speaks, to let go of this temporary mattering. I hear a voice so sure calling me to release that something that just isn’t me. I loosen my hold on the things I think should be part of my name in this world. I lean into this more humble destiny and hear the ash grin and whisper “God’s dusty child, sealed forever.”

In Between

2008-02-05T13:45:00.000-07:00

"the God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were."
Romans 4:17

I'm banking on this mystery today. Many things are not, that God has said are. I think about the "new heart" he says he will put in us (Eze 36:26). I've known this new heart and yet I also know it's far away.

On Sunday I was very close to the new heart, and very close to His presence. Today I can quiet seem to locate it. But they are, and they will be reveled again and again. Thanks be to God.

Confirmation

2008-02-04T11:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was confirmed by the Bishop Onesphore from Byumba, Rwanda Africa. A beautiful man full of grace and a lovely spark of joy. As I left in the afternoon after the pot luck I extended my hand to thank him, he huged me instead with a big smile. That was nice. I hope he visits again soon.

Sure, there is a lot I could say about yesterday, but on the surface I think liking the person who confirmed you is a good start ; )

Quieter Commitments

2008-02-01T14:44:00.000-07:00

I’ve been thinking a lot about the quieter commitments that I’ve made in my life that have guided and directed it. They are commitments that are so quiet I didn’t even realize I’d made them.

My life has a momentum I don’t like, yet it feels so much like unnamable forces are in control. I’m aware there are things I could change. There are some really obvious to do’s. Anyone could do them. I could do them. I’ve had many a well meaning friend, even strangers suggest them. Yet, I can’t seem to jump the hurdle, find the energy or even more importantly the desire.

But very recently God’s grace and light has come to me. In a very difficult conversation, someone I trust pointed out to me one of these barely audible commitments. I learned in an eye twinkling moment that the to do’s I’m not doing, have a whole lot to do with this very quiet, subconscious commitment I’ve made about how I will live my life.

It was a deeply sobering moment as the light poured down onto the far reaching consequences it’s had. The light poured down on the deep root of it’s presence in my life, a commitment with such an obvious hold that this person who saw it expressed fear that I may never change.

Her statement felt like a gauntlet, though I know that was not its intent. I could feel my heels digging in to letting this thing go and so I felt the validity of her fear and it became mine too. I’ve ruled my life this way for so long and have built up a litany of powerful justifications for it. I do want to change, but am I up for the price of it?

Am I up for the pain I will have to face in how I’ve harmed my self and others in this? Am I up for the reopening of fearful and painful wounds that caused me to create such a deep commitment?

I think of Christ who for the joy set before him endured the cross. I wonder if, in this revelation, I have now wandered into a chance to follow His way, that my feet are now walking on His path? I wonder, if I endure through what I know will be painful, if I will come into the joy. And what joy did the Lord set before Him and enter? What joy can I expect? He entered the joy of restored relationship with all His creation. He entered the joy of restoring a relationship with me. So in this journey I will reach to Him and enter that joy too.

An encouraging thought comes to me as I embark. His pain was not greater than his joy. If it were the universe would have fallen apart. Don’t you think? So I will take that promise of greater joy and walk. In the midst of pain, I will ever cast my self into the joy of being with Him.

Sniffles . . .

2008-01-31T14:52:00.000-07:00

Day five of cold,

Does not bode well for clear thinking.

I have nothing coherent to say today.

Hack, Hack . . . Sniff, Sniff . . . Ahchoo

No Shadow

2008-01-30T09:50:00.000-07:00

Offering
by Paul Baloche

The sun cannot compare
To the glory of Your love
There is no shadow in Your presence
No mortal man would dare
To stand before Your throne
Before the Holy One of heaven
It's only by your blood
And it's only by your mercy
Lord, I come

(Chorus)
I bring an offering
Of worship to my King
No one on earth deserves
The praises that I sing
Jesus may you receive
The honor that You're due
O Lord, I bring an offering to you
I bring an offering to you

No shadow in his presence. There are too many shadows around me; shadows at my job, shadows in the calls that come into the counseling department, shadows in the worlds TV mega phone. There are shadows in me, shadows around my future and shadows around my past.

And then this glorious news comes, there is a place with no shadow. So Lord I come, to stand in your presence. I come to stand in a light that cleanses me from the shadows. I come to stand before the one who is not confused about any of it. I don’t need all the answers when I stand there. I just want to feel the purity and holiness of your light. Yes, I come and my worship is an inexpressible thankfulness for your light.

Sniffles

2008-01-30T09:37:00.000-07:00

Well I have my second full blown cold this winter.

This does not bode well for singing.

Sniff, Sniff . . . . Ahchoo!

Limbo

2008-01-28T17:53:00.001-07:00

Last night I listened to a young musician play a song. At the end he said, with a lament, "well and the reason for the song is past." The song was created out of the limbo of unrequited love. He no longer felt the pain of it and so he was questioning if the song had lost the power it had when he wrote it. I could see on his face that he was struggling with no longer being in that emotional tension. He seemed to desperately want the pain back. So I said to him “But you can’t stay in limbo for the sake of a song.”

And the other day, a good friend said to me “I use to cry during worship every Sunday, I don’t anymore. I really miss it. Is that weird?” She thought it weird because the source of the tears was from being in a season of great fear and anxiety.

I know these questions too. I've experienced the loss of powerful experience both with my own songs and in my worship at church.

I use to come as a hungry beggar every Sunday and I would miraculously be encountered and filled. The contrast of being empty in the week and full on Sunday was intoxicating. The power I experienced in church was obvious.

But lately, its begun to quiet and the power of Sunday has become more subtle, and sometimes Sunday feels rote.

Now there is a good reason for my experience to have changed. I’m not as empty anymore during the week. Life has begun to get fuller all the way around. There are more things in my life that bring satisfaction more of the time, through the grace and work of the Lord, by the way.

But something in me misses that experience. The wash of relief, the release of emotion, the utter sense of feeling God was communicating something specific to me and giving me hope.

We all want to stay in the power. We all want to stay in the moment of being deeply touched. But it seems we are called to let it go. God in his mercy hides his power from us. He doesn’t want us to worship this sort of experience, but to worship Him. We are tempted as the song writer was to try and stay in that sort of misery that brought us the song or the cleansing tears.

So what about the state of his song now and what about the meaning of my friend's tears? Did their power leave? What do these more dramatic experiences do for us?

Truly no light is as bright as the one that comes in the dark.

In the dark we have the chance to learn the best truths about ourselves. We are set up to take hold of things in a more profound way than when we feel well. (And I do think in great pain we can also get a hold of some profound lies, but that’s another blog.)

Though it seems cruel, I’m willing to say that God allows a long dark for a chance to speak deeply to us. He endures with us, so that he gets the chance to say to us over and over that He loves us. It’s when we are feeling at our worst that we most need to hear the I love you, otherwise we might be tempted to think we had something to do with it. When we are feeling fine we might be tempted to believe that we had done something to make ourselves worthy of receiving love.

Don’t take that to mean I don’t think we aren’t worthy, that some how I think we are just wretched, wretched awful miserable scum. The fact that God created us in the first place is enough to know that he finds us exceedingly valuable. But yes, we have messed things up profoundly and yes there is no reason to think that one would want to forgive a traitor. But just remember that traitor was never ever our original name.

And I think in large this is the battle God is up against with His enemy. The enemy wants to tell us that we must improve ourselves and can earn love, but that is simply not true. We are loved no matter what even when we are failing, even when we are unbelieving, even when we are hurting others and ourselves, we are always loved and that never changes. And the dark of our lives is a chance for God to show up and prove it to our hearts.

So the song and the tears and the power. If it is true light and true power that is coming to us in those moments I believe that somehow they have turned deeper in, that they become a lasting mark and record of God's love. In these moments of His coming we begin to know that God’s Holy Spirit has become a deeper and truer part of us when we receive the love he offers.

So we don’t sing the song in the same way, but we sing a new song. We don’t weep for ourselves anymore, but we begin to weep for others. We lift up our heads and into His eyes and we grow some more. He opens the door and we walk out into the light. We walk out in the security of His love, we walk out into who we really are.

Pilate

2008-01-26T12:41:00.000-07:00

This mornings reading was from John 18:28- 19:16. It's the story of Jesus before Pilate.

As I read this story today I felt an utter sympathy with Pilate. I recognize the set up he's in. It's a situation in which you know the truth and the right thing and then lack strength or ability to do it.

Jesus recognizes the set up too and his words to him especially give me comfort.

"You would have no power over me if it were not given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin."

Pilate hears this and "from then on, Pilate tired to set Jesus free but. . ." in the end his fear wins. The other voices overpower what he knows is true and right. That part of him that loved and feared the world has its final say and he famously tires to assuage his guilt by washing his hands. (Matthew 27:24)

He knows he is guilty and complicit in Christ death and Jesus' words certainly don't let him off the hook.

And then the astonishing truth that Jesus very death is the only thing that can cleanse him from the guilt.

It stirs a hope and a prayer in my heart that now because of Christ I might have more power to chose the right way. That because of Him I can loosen and let go of my hold on the world, I can let go of the fight for power and accolades and prestige and importance that is of such temporary and fleeting duration. Oh. . . come Lord Jesus, come!

Creative work

2008-01-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

My finger tips are a little sore this morning. I picked up my guitar last night and played for five minutes. It hurt. It's obviously been a long while. I forgot how comforting it can be to feel the guitars resonance all through me. I don't know any songs, just what I make up. I want that to change. It's hard to find the balance between fun and practice. Madeline L'Engle's words come to mind.

"When the work takes over, then the artist is enabled to get out of the way, not to interfere. When the work takes over, then the artist listens. But before he can listen, paradoxically, he must work. Getting out of the way and listening is not something that comes easily, whether in art or in prayer."

I suppose I take such comfort from her words because I know I need to work. I have a perfectionist streak that makes me think I need it all to come together immediately, but I'm learning that the work part is often the way I stumble into the free flowing, creative, still, listening part. I have more grace for myself when I remember that. Sometimes I actually believe that it's God that expects me to be perfect and able right away. I don't know how I come up with that. Obviously he knows we are creatures that take time and need lots of help.

Of course this also helps me in my spiritual life to. I think this is part of what draws me to the liturgy of my church, it starts me on my way, it warms me up and then I'm free to run. Sometimes that's the only way I can get going then some how by God's grace I enter a real encounter and he is really present and I am really present and we are talking. Sometimes it's saved my life.

Coffee Benefactor

2008-01-23T09:48:00.000-07:00

In the course of the day at work I usually walk up and down the hall several times through another department. A few weeks ago I teased someone in that department about having the same cup of coffee in the evening as they had in the morning.

I had no idea what this would induce, but about once a week since then when I come in to work there is a cup of Starbucks sitting on my desk. It seems I've acquired my own coffee benefactor. I think this may be the closest thing to a single woman's supper hero (thanks Hazel Cade). I'll often get coffee in the morning, but he seems to know when I haven't and then it magically appears, with cream just the way I like it.

It's actually hard for me to just receive the coffee. I get a little jumpy when people are just nice with out expecting something in return. It's rare, so it makes one suspicious.

Lent, Holy Week and Easter

2008-01-22T09:59:00.000-07:00

I was just talking to my roomie last night as we took down our (well her) Christmas decorations. I was bummed, "Bye, bye magic, hello dreary winter."

I held on to my eeyore attitude till this morning when I happened to be looking up the liturgical seasons and realized that this year Easter is early. I'm relatively new to this whole liturgical season thing. In the evangelical circles I came from you really just celebrate Easter day, but in the Anglican and of course Catholic traditions. You celebrate the entire season of Lent, starting with Ash Wednesday through to Holy week and ending with Easter. It's a wonderful time of reflection and preparation. I enjoy it more than Advent and Christmas. It's a journey, more than momentary celebrations. I love journeys, which must be the appeal.

I'm so excited. It all begins in only two weeks! Yes, I'm odd that these things make me so happy, but I think most of you reading this are odd in this way too ; )

The Past is Present . . . also

2008-01-21T15:09:00.000-07:00

For the best illustration I've seen about the past becoming present and the work of redemption I'd recommend one of my favorite movies "The Legend of Bagger Vance".

The Past is Present

2008-01-21T13:46:00.000-07:00

I’ve made it through, but lately it seems near. I was pulling out pictures the other day looking for a picture that represented joy. I found something else instead.

I was flipping through an album that was full of pictures from when I lived in Seattle and was attending graduate school. I burst into tears. I wasn’t even trying evoke memories as I looked. I was just suddenly transported to that time and washed over with the utter disappointment and enduring pain of that time in my life.

The experience of that pain has been dormant for several years now, but recently I’ve had conversations or experiences that have brought it up again. It’s such an odd thing to be going along with whatever daily thing and suddenly feel in the exact way I’d felt in the past as if I were there and not here.

I have to remind myself that I’ve already lived through it and I’m ok now, but I’m curious about why it’s come up again. I’m going to air on the side that God wants to speak to me and heal me. I love these words from “The Life Model”, “When pain from the past is unresolved, (you) struggle with it every day – it is not past at that moment, it is present. Pain from the past cannot stay in the past until it receives healing.” And that is where I’m at.

There is gratefulness in me as I realize that this is happening now because I’m actually more healed and well and stable than I’ve been in a long time. If I crash a little not everything will crash down. The experience of the pain won’t render me helpless as if it were the final word. Still, it’s not pleasant and I must be mindful to bring it before the Lord.

And I’m grateful to say that I’ve already begun to see the first of the fruit of this experience. A new thought has arrived in my spirit as I’ve experienced this that previously I’d not been able to handle. The thought is that part of the problem in that time was my own stubbornness and rebellion. I wanted certain things to be on my terms, and those terms were in opposition to God’s Holy design. Concretely, one of the biggest errors I made was in walking away from fellowship and ceasing to believe that the church had something meaningful to offer me. I was arrogant about it and didn’t really try to see the church beyond its imperfections.

In all previous attempts at contemplating this time I’d usually come out on the heavy ends. Either it would all windup being my fault or it would all wind up being God’s evil plan and mostly I’d be struck with a massive amount of confusion over the whole thing. If I admitted I was wrong or had a part in some of the pain, I could only admit it with a punch of self-contempt spiraling me down into a dark pit. Which I’m convinced is a clear sign that the enemy is polluting my thoughts. But this time the admission was covered in grace, in true sorrow. And instead of feeling contempt and a hardening I could feel my heart grow softer and a true I’m sorry come forth. I could feel myself want to draw near to God instead of feeling as if I needed to duck. I felt God’s wide open arms embracing me and saying something like. “I’m glad you see your part, it’s ok."

Hmm . . . It’s ok. I’m present now, to the pain, but even more to the presence of God, present to His redeeming love.

401Ks or 403b in my case

2008-01-17T16:56:00.000-07:00

I feel so responsible. Today I signed up for a retirement account. It was painless and I'll only miss a small amount from each pay check.

Somehow this makes me feel like I'm finally an adult. Just think if I'd done this years ago, I could have been feeling like an adult for sometime now. Oh well, I've always been a late bloomer ; )

Opportunity?

2008-01-16T13:58:00.001-07:00

In the counseling department at work they also work with undergrad students as interns. I just had one of the counselors ask me if I wanted to give a 30 minute presentation to the students about working with victims of sexual abuse.

Uhhh . . . Well . . .thanks for such a little topic. Umm . . . I'm flattered. No I'm terrified. Yes, I have a graduate degree in counseling. I also happen to have that degree from a school whose founders are the gurus for working with victims of sexual abuse and yet somehow my most immediate response was I'm sure I don't know anything about it, this is way over my head. Umm. . . Why are you asking me?

Having chosen not to begin my own practice I feel a little bit fraudulent, but I should do this. No I want to do this, it will be fun to think through and it will be a chance to not answer the phone. Also, I don't think I can get away from it.

My supervisor is insistent that I say yes. Uh, better keep her happy so I can continue hating my job ; )

My little known, little understood past

2008-01-15T10:13:00.000-07:00

So the Stock show got me thinking about horses. Many of my friends may not realize what a big part of my life they have been. When I moved to Colorado at the age of seven, my big hope was that with all the property we had I might get a horse. Our property in Evergreen is actually zoned to have up to two horses on it, or so I recollect my father telling me. But alas my parents where not horse types. But a stroke of good fortune put us in a county with one of the rarest organizations I've ever heard of, the Westernairs. You had to live in Jefferson county to be a part of it and for a $20 annual due (no joking) you could be a member. The best part is that you did not have to own your own horse. They had about 50 horses that they cared for and you could rent at $5 a ride. It worked this way, the first year you rode every other week on Saturday in a class learning the basics of western team riding. After that year you were placed in a team and would ride every week. Every year you advanced (if you were ready) up a team. The drills would get more complex and you would ride them at increasing speed.

What a deal! I got to ride horses once a week from the ages of 11 to 17. Here's a link to video of a few of the teams. Seeing is so much easier than trying to describe what sort of horse back riding this is. No I did not do Chariots, or Riders of the Steps, or Freedom Riders. But I did participate for a year in the pony team driving a cart and for a year after that I did pony romans, which is riding two ponies while standing with one foot on each. Ye Haw!

Amusing Phone Call

2008-01-14T12:38:00.001-07:00

Today I got a call at work. When I asked them what state they were calling from they said,

"Los Angeles"

Spins, roll backs, lead changes and sliding stops.

2008-01-14T09:02:00.001-07:00

Hugh?

I spent yesterday afternoon at the National Western Stock Show watching the freestyle Reining competition.

For all my non horsey friends, well I don't know how to bring you along except to say that it's really cool stuff you can do with your horse, and if you do it really well yesterday you could have won $15,000. Now probably the horse you did these things on cost more than that, but that's not the point or why anyone does it.

Most impressive was the man who did it with out any reins at all. So essentially he gave all speed, and directional cues to his horse through leg and seat pressure, which means he has extraordinary balance and control.

I'm jealous, if I ever get a horse this is what I would train to do. It's all about trust and communication with your horse.

What the man did is the fantasy of Lord of the Rings, where the elven kind need no "devices" to ride a horse. How cool is that and how cool to know that it really can be done.

Here's an example of what it is.

The Infant Savior

2008-01-11T10:51:00.000-07:00

I know Christmas is over but I’m still reflecting on the season. Well, not really the season as much as the story of God being born and the blessing it is that he is born in a baby. It’s astounding that the all powerful being would become an all dependent one. This year when I contemplated Jesus the infant, I saw God’s declaration of trust in us. Here in a manger, in swaddling clothes, in all vulnerability, He unabashedly placed Himself into the arms of a woman and a man.

What are you up to God doing something like that?

Even more astounding is that in the Infant Savior, God says at the same time two things; I trust you and you utterly need my help. In this moment of time, God gives us a picture of the beauty of a mutual dependence. He says love and care for me as I love and care for you. We find Him trusting His original creation in us, believing it’s still there, calling it out to its final redemption.

Lord what original beauty do you trust in me?

My heart is suspicious of this declaration of trust, being so use to thinking poorly of myself, being so use to thinking that God thinks poorly of me. As the baby is handed to me my eyes dart around the room thinking, ok someone else is going to step in now, right? Where’s the nanny or the nurse or the someone that knows better than I do, but that person doesn’t come, and if I don’t extend my arms the baby will fall.

Lord in the midst of what fear have you asked me to watch you?

The baby’s in my arms now and I am beginning to believe. Slowly I am melted by God’s declaration of trust in me. I find my heart locked in the gaze of mother and child adoring Him who loves me, seeing Him adore me, hearing our voices ring with the I love that was meant to go back and forth for all time.

Work Place Kudos

2008-01-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

Before Christmas every one in the counseling department got an "assignment" to tell everyone else some qualities that they appreciated about them. We wrote them on half sheets of Christmas colored paper. Yesterday we were given those comments to read. I have to say that one quality that was a recurring theme surprised me and that was "Joyful."

Why is that a surprise? Well most of you know that I severely dislike my work. I often don't feel joyful when I'm there. So I was relieved that joy is still present in me in my interactions with others. Phew!

Here are a few other comments that made me grin:

The department supervisor said, your "a bit mysterious"

One of the Chaplains said, "your sly sense of humor"

And one of the counselors said, "your humor and love for the things of God. Also, when you are feisty"

: ) Who wouldn't want to be mysterious and sly and feisty all in one.

Kudos to all of you in the counseling department, each one is full of something so uniquely there own that blesses everyone else. Thanks for being the reason I can keep coming back each day.

P.S. It's come to my attention that there is a concern for the wrong or right person reading this and discovering I dislike my job. Rest assured that all important parties know exactly how I feel, but are still happy to employ me as long as I do my job ; )

I Will Sing

2008-01-10T14:28:00.000-07:00

Ok, I've caved. I'm a blogger now. And it looks like this could be a lot of fun except it's taken me two days to think of what to title this thing. I'm curious about how long it took you. I'm a slow cooker and prone to think to long about everything. Anyway, I will say a bit about the name as obliged to do in a first post.

I came across Mary Oliver, a poet, about six or seven years ago. She said things that made me feel known. She named the struggle I was in in a way that I understood. She seemed to lean hard into mystery and thought it was worth while. In the moment I was asking what my place and work in the world was, she told me what I wanted to believe was true that seeing and naming mysteries are the real work.

Here are her words :

I will sing for the veil that never lifts.
I will sing for the veil that begins, once in a life time maybe, to lift.
I will sing for the rent in the veil.
I will sing for what is in front of the veil, the floating light.
I will sing for what is behind the veil—light, light and more light.
This is the world and this is the work of the world.

It would be hard to unpack all the ways this spoke to me, but I held onto it for years. In my dark moments I would come back to this. When I felt myself of no consequence or thought I had made no contribution to the world, I would remember that struggling to name mysteries is what I wanted to do. I would remember that I had, at least, written my own poems that wrestled with things that were veiled, that there had been a handful of times when that writing and my sharing it had lifted veils for others and it was a great consolation.

However, I don't think I ever dreamed these words would be more than consolation. Recently I have seen that these words have actually been prophetic words for my life.

I never really sang, at least not for anyone. But about a year and a half ago the dreams in my life completely extinguished. I mean totally out. I didn't even have a far fetched fantasy in mind. What was I doing? I saw no way ahead and no happiness in the present. I knew two things though, the first was that God loved me. I know that's an often misunderstood phrase, over used and often trite sounding. But through a long season I'd really come to know it deep in my heart. Which leads me to the second thing I knew, which is that I loved God back. This and a deep frustration were all I had.

I thought something has to change. I should try something new. It doesn't have to be earth shattering, just something different than I've been doing week after week. I had been attending a midweek worship service. It was small and humble and I noticed an inconsistency with who would sing or play each week. I thought to myself there seems to be room, I think I can do that, it's not a show here so I think my small voice might be all right for this place. I think it could sound nice enough and not be offensive. I'll try out and see.

So I started singing.

And I was humbled that when I opened my mouth what came out wasn't all the frustration or anger or fear I was feeling, but the love I knew and the love I wanted to know more deeply.
I haven't stopped singing a year later and I'm still making song. Every time I sing I get to enter that mystery. I sing about the veil. I sing about what is in front of the veil and what is behind it.

What a gift. What a privilege to sing.

I love that it was a surprise too. It was something that I might have seen, but I didn't or couldn't. God's redemption was laying close by all along.