Whimsical Wednesday, May 9, 2012

For this week's Whimsical Wednesday, I'm sticking with words that either inspire, or make me laugh (or both!)

I love to hear if one of these quotation images stands out to you, and why!

Source: gramfeed.com via Lisa on Pinterest

Source: 26.media.tumblr.com via Lisa on Pinterest

Source: thebottomoftheironingbasket.blogspot.com via Lisa on Pinterest

Source: scatterbrainjane.com via Lisa on Pinterest

Source: happiness-project.com via Lisa on Pinterest

Source: fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net via Lisa on Pinterest

The Coming Joy

This continues to be an odd week.

It's one of the busiest weeks I've had in months, and I am feeling the pull of the growing exhaustion on my body.  I've probably taxed my limits, but it was to some extent unavoidable, and looking back, there isn't anything I'd eliminate from my schedule (well, maybe grocery shopping, if there was some sort of magic way food could appear in our fridge).  The moments shared with friends and at house church.

It's also been one of the weeks where I've been most intensely in what both my roommate and I jokingly refer to as "weird intercessor space" more deeply than I have been in a very long time.

There has been the news from Haiti.

And some other needs that have come to my attention.

And this ongoing theme of mothering, birthing, babies, children.  Which perhaps sounds a bit odd when you consider that I am 26 years old, and remain happily single.

Some time ago I think I blogged the following passage, but it has come back strongly to me today, and I find myself praying it back to God this morning, asking for patience and understanding as I process and listen and wait and pray.

John 16:21-23 (The Message)
When a woman gives birth, she has a hard time, there's no getting around it.  But when the baby is born, there is joy in the birth.  This new life in the world wipes out memory of the pain.  The sadness you have right now is similar to that pain, but the coming joy is also similar.  When I see you again, you'll be full of joy, and it will be a joy no one can rob from you.  You'll no longer be so full of questions.

Daily 5 - Day 2

Image via Wikipedia

Here are today's five moments of laughter, joy, smiling, success etc. The moments I'm celebrating and finding life in today:

1. A friend of mine had the following as her facebook status this morning, loosely paraphrased by me, "My daughter peed on the kitchen floor. She was trying to be a good girl and clean it up. Unfortunately, she used a broom." I laughed off and on all day as I pictured her rather precocious, curious daughter (who must be around 3 or so now) trying to fix her mistake and be "good" by helping to clean up the mess she'd made, but going about it in a less than helpful way!
2. Peanut M&M's are high on my list of things that satisfied and brought smiles today
   
3. A glass of red wine from a bottle left for me by a dear friend
4. A realization that certain things I've been struggling with don't have to make me a victim - that I have a certain degree of choice in that.
5. Finding a book that I am really enjoying reading, and feeling inspired to learn again, even if it was something as little as looking up the definition of protean (see my post earlier today) and reveling in the knowledge of a new word, rolling it around within me and letting the joy that came from a bit of a revival of a love of learning (I haven't felt that in a while) roll around inside me for a bit.

And, with that list of five, I'm off to finish up a few emails, and then curl up in bed with my journal and book, and then hopefully sleep deeply and well tonight.

Holy Cannoli

My current favorite exclamation when feeling slightly overwhelmed is "holy cannoli!" I don't know where it came from, but I find myself using it rather frequently these days.

I'm having a "holy cannoli" kind of day today. A bit shocked at the variety in the day. From moments of completely deadness, with nothing on my plate, to moments where the amount of things on my list seem to be overflowing.

In other news, I was reading over lunch since our server was down and I couldn't give my brain a rest by playing a game online. In the book I'm reading, I came across a word I was familiar with, but couldn't define, even given the context in which it was used. The word was "protean" and the definition can be found here, but it essentially means that something is flexible or changeable. (I hear some of you who know me well, jumping at the joke to be made here, the one that says no wonder that I didn't know the word, it would certainly never be applied to me!) Having read the defintion, the word makes total sense in the context in which it was used.

I'm noticing, already, a difference in me, by making the commitment I wrote about yesterday to show up here with a daily list of five things that in some way brought joy. I'm more aware of the little moments in the day that I'm laughing, of the things that truly made my insides smile. I'm more aware of the things I'm thankful for, because I'm focusing on them, jotting them down, so I can choose the best of them to make my list for the day later tonight.

One of those things that made me chuckle was a facebook status update from a friend (actually two different status updates have made me laugh today, but one is a serious contender for my list tonight, so I'll leave it for now). His status read: So and So used to have a handle on life, but it broke. And oh how I chuckled in knowingness.

And with that, holy cannoli! I've got things that must get done by the end of the afternoon, and I'm off to tackle the list!

Wordle...

I've enjoyed the wordle site for a while now, and decided to see what it would come up with for the most recent set of posts around here...

From Henri again...

continuing some of the thoughts from Henri Nouwen that I've shared the last few days...

Flesh Become Word

The word must become flesh, but the flesh also must become word. It is not enough for us, as human beings, just to live. We also must give words to what we are living. If we do not speak what we are living, our lives lose their vitality and creativity. When we see a beautiful view, we search for words to express what we are seeing. When we meet a caring person, we want to speak about that meeting. When we are sorrowful or in great pain, we need to talk about it. When we are surprised by joy, we want to announce it!

Through the word, we appropriate and internalize what we are living. The word makes our experience truly human.

From Henri...

a few thoughts from Henri Nouwen that have once again been collecting in my inbox...

The Fruit of the Spirit

How does the Spirit of God manifest itself through us? Often we think that to witness means to speak up in defense of God. This idea can make us very self-conscious. We wonder where and how we can make God the topic of our conversations and how to convince our families, friends, neighbors, and colleagues of God's presence in their lives. But this explicit missionary endeavour often comes from an insecure heart and, therefore, easily creates divisions.

The way God's Spirit manifests itself most convincingly is through its fruits: "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, trustfulness, gentleness and self-control" (Galatians 5:22). These fruits speak for themselves. It is therefore always better to raise the question "How can I grow in the Spirit?" than the question "How can I make others believe in the Spirit?"

Right Living and Right Speaking

To be a witness for God is to be a living sign of God's presence in the world. What we live is more important than what we say, because the right way of living always leads to the right way of speaking. When we forgive our neighbours from our hearts, our hearts will speak forgiving words. When we are grateful, we will speak grateful words, and when we are hopeful and joyful, we will speak hopeful and joyful words.

When our words come too soon and we are not yet living what we are saying, we easily give double messages. Giving double messages - one with our words and another with our actions - makes us hypocrites. May our lives give us the right words and may our words lead us to the right life.

Growing into the Truth We Speak

Can we only speak when we are fully living what we are saying? If all our words had to cover all our actions, we would be doomed to permanent silence! Sometimes we are called to proclaim God's love even when we are not yet fully able to live it. Does that mean we are hypocrites? Only when our own words no longer call us to conversion. Nobody completely lives up to his or her own ideals and visions. But by proclaiming our ideals and visions with great conviction and great humility, we may gradually grow into the truth we speak. As long as we know that our lives always will speak louder than our words, we can trust that our words will remain humble.

Words That Become Flesh

Words are important. Without them our actions lose meaning. And without meaning we cannot live. Words can offer perspective, insight, understanding, and vision. Words can bring consolation, comfort, encouragement and hope. Words can take away fear, isolation, shame, and guilt. Words can reconcile, unite, forgive, and heal. Words can bring peace and joy, inner freedom and deep gratitude. Words, in short, can carry love on their wings. A word of love can be the greatest act of love. That is because when our words become flesh in our own lives and the lives of others, we can change the world.

Jesus is the word made flesh. In him speaking and acting were one.

And one more thing...

Is nepotism some sort of really uncommon word? Because it's a word I've heard fairly commonly used, but at least twice (and I think a few more times than that) this week I've used the word to describe a situation I'm aware of, and the person or people I was talking with looked at me blankly and asked "what's that?"

Seriously, is this not a commonly known word?

Abba.

For much of the afternoon, and on into the evening, my heart was deeply unsettled.

I tried to pray. But words just wouldn't (and aren't) forming.

I've been praying a rosary book - a book of prayers and scriptures designed for the Anglican rosary - nightly since the new year began. Each and every night, just before sleep, the scriptures and prayers, and the prayer Jesus taught us to pray.

Our Father. Sometimes I can barely make it past that line. My lips move and repeat the rest of the prayer. But my heart is stuck there. In that space. Calling out for a Father.

And all afternoon, as I tried to find words, my heart simply cried out, over and over, "Abba." "Abba".

I need a God who is Abba - Daddy - right now. A God who draws near. A God who waits with me. A God who holds me, and wipes my many tears.

And so, as my heart remains unsettled, the only words that will form on my lips are "Abba."

And sometimes, "Abba, help."

Words that Feed Us - Henri Nouwen

another great thought from Henri Nouwen...

Words That Feed Us

When we talk to one another, we often talk about what happened, what we are doing, or what we plan to do. Often we say, "What's up?" and we encourage one another to share the details of our daily lives. But often we want to hear something else. We want to hear, "I've been thinking of you today," or "I missed you," or "I wish you were here," or "I really love you." It is not always easy to say these words, but such words can deepen our bonds with one another.

Telling someone "I love you" in whatever way is always delivering good news. Nobody will respond by saying, "Well, I knew that already, you don't have to say it again"! Words of love and affirmation are like bread. We need them each day, over and over. They keep us alive inside.

Words

I grow increasingly, daily more aware of the power inherent in words.

Of the way they can harm another.

Of the way that spoken out of turn, at the wrong time, they can wreak havoc and cause devastation.

Of the fact that words that are not chosen with care can expose and damage the hearts of others.

I want to have nice words...

I want to have nice words for you all, challenging and inspiring thoughts to live by, but the truth is, today I don't.

I don't even have nice words for me.

I'm tired of telling you that I'm struggling. I'm tired of struggling for that matter.

My roommate asked me this morning as I drove her to the train if I was okay. I laughed at the question and told her that I'm so far from okay right now that I'm not even sure how to begin the process of picking up the pieces this time and getting back there.

I wonder some days if the tug of war with God ever gets any easier.

I wonder some days why it isn't granted to me to understand the bigger picture. I'm so much more at ease when I understand what is happening around me, and in me and through me.

I'm struggling with the ongoing "recovering pastor's kid" battle today. The lie that says that being all things to all people is absolutely key, and that measuring up to their expectations is central to my own self-worth. That measuring up to God's expectations is central to receiving his love, his joy, his peace.

And I'm having a bit of an argument with a dear friend over the space in life that I'm occupying. Which is actually kind of funny, since there's been the perception that at times that I idolized this particular friend. No one who'd been privy to the conversations we've had in the last while could think that. I'm grouchy because she's usually right, and I think she probably is again this time, though for the life of me I can't figure out how that translates into choices and real life.

The good news in the midst of all this?

Well, I'm not depressed - that's still a victory to celebrate. And despite another absolutely brutal night of dreams, that caused me to wake up quite ill this morning, I didn't puke - that's good news these days. I can tell you that the whole expectations game is a lie now, even though I'm not always particularly successful at combatting it's effects. I have a job that (mostly) pays my bills. I'm living in a place (as far as I know) of obedience to everything God is asking, even though some of it really sucks right now. (I'm still working on the joyful obedience part.) Even though I'm arguing with a friend, I'm not worried that her love is conditional - that's pretty huge for me too. I can't think of anyone else in my life (except maybe God, and even that can be a bit of a wobbly assurance at times) that I can say that about.

So.

On with the day.

On with the conversations that may or may not happen.

On with the crazyness of my office in renewal season.

On with prayer, and fasting, and obedience, even when it hurts like crap.

On with trying to find joy.

On with identifying the lies, and working to combat their presence and influence in my life.

On with remembering to be thankful for little blessings like warm boots, and not throwing up, and a friend I can argue with and know she won't stop loving me.

On with the day.

On with choosing life.

Speaking Silently

I’m sitting here at my desk, eating a mandarin orange, and staring at a blinking cursor, trying to find words for you. Words to share the thoughts and prayers shaping my heart this week. Words to share the deep concerns, and those things that are making me come alive with anticipation.

For someone who has shaped a life around a love of words, they’ve been hard to form lately. Hard to shape and manipulate and cause to reflect the meanings of my heart. As the places and spaces I’m occupying grow increasingly deeper, more and more I find myself unable to use the language and conventions of grammar that I’ve always known to describe these things. And I find myself wondering if perhaps a whole new language, a whole new set of words and thoughts and conventions will be formed, to again give voice to my heart.

And so, I sit here, at my desk, eating a mandarin orange.

Or I sit in my candlelit bedroom, the smell of incense or rose oil drifting through the air, and I nibble on chocolate.

Or I finger the tiny crucifix from the rosary I bought at the Vatican. Or let my fingers caress the face of Jesus – one of many charms filled with the saints, on a bracelet that is a much cherished gift from a much cherished friend.

And I find my fingers reaching for the tiny silver medallion that hangs on a delicate chain around my neck most days. The medallion with the face of St. Claire of Assisi on it. My fingers reach for it and my thoughts are drawn back to a moment of dreaming. To oil and tears mingled as the sign of the cross was traced upon my cheeks, and followed by a long and loving embrace.

It would seem, these days, that my hands, my clothing, my jewelry, my choices of food, the items on my shelves and counters and walls, and the scents I use to fill the air around me do much of my speaking. They give voice to the things that remain, for now, too deep for words. And I am seeking to rest in that. To let them speak of the peace and joy and hope I’m finding. To let them declare to the world that I am falling in love with a God who hung bleeding and broken before the world. And a God who lives and speaks and breathes life. I let these things declare that I am being wooed, that vows have been made. I let them declare a struggle to trust, and a commitment to push through. And I pray that they will speak loudly when I cannot form words, but that, one day, the words will again begin to form on my tongue and pour out of my fingertips – not in a stumbling, clumsy, child-like way, but in a deep and flowing and eloquent way that speaks of the awe I feel at being swept into this journey that encompasses thousands of years, millions of people, and ultimately brings life, hope, joy, peace and redemption.

Three Words

It was, in some ways, a rough weekend again.

But there are three word statements that are standing out, and speaking hope to my heart.

"I love you." Spoken by a few special people over the course of the weekend, and always precious, but most dearly for me, by a three year old boy, and accompanied by a hug. There's something awfully calming and healing in the love of a child.

"You are lovely." Spoken by a dear friend, one who knows my heart deeply, and words I needed to hear in the midst of the harder spaces I've occupied this last while.

"You are mine." Whispered by Jesus, in the midst of a deep moment in a favorite spot. And again much needed.

Wordle

Love this website. Wordle. Very cool. Look what it did with my blog:

A Deep Sadness (I don't know what to say)

I’ve been thinking all morning about what I want to say here today.

This has been a particularly hard day. They happen. You wake up, and you just know that the day is going to be a long and heavy one. If you’re fortunate, you find a way for the “funk” to lift a bit as the day goes on, and make normal functioning an easier proposition.

If you’re lucky, you have a moment like I did, over your lunch hour, where, for a few minutes, something punches through and lets you laugh. In my case it was laughing at our bookkeeper, who was nearly choking from laughing so hard at a goofy joke someone told. (the joke? Okay, you did ask! Why don’t witches wear underwear? To get a better grip on their broomsticks!) Four of us sat there laughing, some with tears streaming down their faces. (I think it was one of those moments where you kind of had to be there to fully appreciate it, but it did bring a much needed brief reprieve from the weight that has settled so heavily upon me again today.)

I woke deeply sad, deeply exhausted, deeply unsettled.

I dreamt last night that I was watching someone pour themselves into something. Investing time, money, and much emotion into something they cared deeply about and being rejected at every turn. I kind of feel like that in some spheres of my life this last while.

I had a rather emotional conversation with my boss, at her request this morning. I guess the emotions weren’t really at her request, but the conversation was. She asked me if my depression was returning. I gave her an honest answer, one I’m not sure she knew what to do with, but an honest one nonetheless.

Tears are leaking out of me again today, at the most inopportune of moments. Talking with a friend, and again with my boss.

I wish the sobs would release. It’s been probably five years since I was able to truly sob the emotions that needed to be released. I need to be able to sob again.

I told a friend this morning that I just want to curl up in a ball on the floor and stay there until one of two things happens. That I wake up in heaven, or that Jesus comes to heal and restore. At this point I honestly don’t know which of the two options I’d prefer. I think I might be in that ball on the floor for a long time.

I'm asking the Lord to send spiritual friends and counsellors. I have many, but most live far away. I need people in my own city, with whom it is safe to be wholly me, without masks. The person with whom that is presently most safe, most possible, lives across the country from me.

I could use a hug today.

I don't know what to say. There are thousands of words, and there are equally none. Perhaps, over tea I could find the words, but for now, I just can't find words to write.

In LOVE (with words)

I absolutely love this site. Visuwords.

Seriously. I know you all already know that I'm word geek. But when I saw this on Marko's blog this morning, I had to check it out.

And I love it.

I love the visual of the connections and definitions. I love the way they all pop up.

I tried a few different words that I've been batting around a lot lately. Hope. Trust. Joy. Tears. Others. So cool.

You have to check it out.

Not the right words...

I have a million and one words, but can't seem to find the ones I want for the important things. There are people I'd like to write to, but there aren't words for that either. Things I want to say. Things that hurt. Things that would probably make others hurt too. I don't want anyone else to hurt - not on my behalf, not on their own. So I don't have the right words.

An anonymous commenter left a note on a blog post a friend of mine recently wrote, "I feel as though I'm going through a 'dark night of the soul'." I'm not going through that, though I have in the past and am sure I will again. But this anonymous soul's words grabbed at me - the loneliness, the fear, the despair. I know those things well. I feel a few of them, in a different sort of way right now.

I'm asking a lot of questions about God and life and faith and community and church and relationships and mission. I'm taking a lot of comfort in talking to a few friends who are asking similar questions. I'm taking a lot of comfort in reading authors who have asked similar questions. I'm mostly interested in the ones who propose answers that involve brokenness instead of wholeness. Because I don't have a whole lot of wholeness to offer these days.

I was looking at a couple of old blog posts today... Came across two more quotes that struck me...

This one from Shane Claiborne:
"The gospel is good news for sick people and is disturbing for those who think they've got it all together. Some of us have been told our whole lives that we are wretched, but the gospel reminds us that we are beautiful. Others of us have been told our whole lives that we are beautiful, but the gospel reminds us that we are also wretched. The church is a place where we can stand up and say we are wretched, and everyone will nod and agree and remind us that we are also beautiful.

...Community can be built around a common self-righteousness or around a common brokenness. Both are magnetic. People are drawn toward folks who have it all together, or who look like they do. People are also drawn toward folks who know they don't have it all together and are not willing to fake it.

Christianity can be build around isolating ourselves from evildoers and sinners, creating a community of religious piety and moral purity. That's the Christianity I grew up with. Christianity can also be built around joining with the broken sinners and evildoers of our world crying out to God, groaning for grace. That's the Christianity I have fallen in love with."

And this poem by Leonard Cohen, because today, as I've been searching for words, I've felt like one of the fakes. I am one of the fakes, and this is my story.

Thousands
Out of the thousands
who are known
or who want to be known
as poets,
maybe one or two
are genuine
and the rest are fakes,
hanging around the sacred precincts
trying to look like the real thing.
Needless to say
I am one of the fakes,
and this is my story.

lacking words

I'm spent. That's a good word - spent - for how I'm feeling. Empty, done, drained, exhausted. I've given what I have, and today I'm spent.

There are so many things buried in my heart and mind that I quite desperately need to process. And there are just no words.

Words are my window on the world - my way of engaging, my gift, my passion, my means of expressing my identity, my way of sharing love - and I have none.

What do you do when you so desperately need words, and they've run dry?

Certain friends are still pulling them from me - but they all live far away.

Most of the blog posts I've put up in the last while have felt like incomplete thoughts - maybe I'm the only who's noticed, but that's what they've felt like. Because I just can't find the words for this space in my life. Because things are swirling and I desperately need to slow them down and process them, but there are no words.

Escapism is looking good right now. Losing myself in a cheesy novel, or television show. Completely shutting off my brain. If I could only figure out how to shut out my soul in those moments as well - because it's my soul that is weighing heavy these days.

Are my words worth anything when they paint incomplete pictures - half-thoughts? They have to be, for I have no other way to spill at least some of the excess...

until later...