I got three more reflections in my email from Henri Nouwen today that I thought I'd share with you...
Living the Moment to the Fullest
Patience is a hard discipline. It is not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control: the arrival of the bus, the end of the rain, the return of a friend, the resolution of a conflict. Patience is not a waiting passivity until someone else does something. Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient we try to get away from where we are. We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later and somewhere else. Let's be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.
Spiritual Choices
Choices. Choices make the difference. Two people are in the same accident and severely wounded. They did not choose to be in the accident. It happened to them. But one of them chose to live the experience in bitterness, the other in gratitude. Thesechoices radically influenced their lives and the lives of their families and friends. We have very little control over what happens in our lives, but we have a lot of control over how we integrate and remember what happens. It is precisely these spiritual choices that determine whether we live our lives with dignity.
The Gift of Friendship
Friendship is one of the greatest gifts a human being can receive. It is a bond beyond common goals, common interests, or common histories. It is a bond stronger than sexual union can create, deeper than a shared fate can solidify, and even more intimate than the bonds of marriage or community. Friendship is being with the other in joy and sorrow, even when we cannot increase the joy or decrease the sorrow. It is a unity of souls that gives nobility and sincerity to love. Friendship makes all of life shine brightly. Blessed are those who lay down their lives for their friends.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Monday
I have one day of work left. One day to finish teaching my temp how to do my job.
Then I have one day to pack, and see a couple of friends.
Then I leave.
oooffff....
I feel like I have no energy left.
I should be doing laundry right now, but I can't get off the couch. I'm working up to it.
I had dinner with my family tonight. Said goodbye to my brothers, since I won't see them again before I leave.
Came home and put my pajamas on and am crashed on the couch watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy on DVD and catching up on email.
Then I have one day to pack, and see a couple of friends.
Then I leave.
oooffff....
I feel like I have no energy left.
I should be doing laundry right now, but I can't get off the couch. I'm working up to it.
I had dinner with my family tonight. Said goodbye to my brothers, since I won't see them again before I leave.
Came home and put my pajamas on and am crashed on the couch watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy on DVD and catching up on email.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Still on my radar...
I'm thinking a lot about Pakistan these days... praying for the situation there on a pretty regular basis.
Because, you see, one of my favorite people on the planet, the friend who I describe with the adjective "best", gave her heart to Pakistan back when she was sixteen and spent a summer there on a short term mission trip.
Then, last year, she went back, spent three months in a tiny rural hospital for women and children. Three months of helping bring new lives into the world. And she gave her heart away again - to this hospital that so desperately needs the skills she brings. To this hospital that keeps having to shut down for periods of time, because there is no one to cover the permanent missionary staff's home assignments.
In March, my friend is hoping to go back to Pakistan, to this tiny hospital. To give the next year and a half of her life to Jesus, and to keep helping to bring healthy new babies into the world.
So I find myself praying for this country that has stolen her heart. For peace, for stability, for light and love to overflow. For a visa to be granted, and safe travel for my friend. That it will work for me to visit her and pray with her there, sometime in the 18 months she'll be away.
This headline today caught my eye, and had me praying all over again... Pakistanis flee into Afghanistan
So I'm praying for her tonight...
Because, you see, one of my favorite people on the planet, the friend who I describe with the adjective "best", gave her heart to Pakistan back when she was sixteen and spent a summer there on a short term mission trip.
Then, last year, she went back, spent three months in a tiny rural hospital for women and children. Three months of helping bring new lives into the world. And she gave her heart away again - to this hospital that so desperately needs the skills she brings. To this hospital that keeps having to shut down for periods of time, because there is no one to cover the permanent missionary staff's home assignments.
In March, my friend is hoping to go back to Pakistan, to this tiny hospital. To give the next year and a half of her life to Jesus, and to keep helping to bring healthy new babies into the world.
So I find myself praying for this country that has stolen her heart. For peace, for stability, for light and love to overflow. For a visa to be granted, and safe travel for my friend. That it will work for me to visit her and pray with her there, sometime in the 18 months she'll be away.
This headline today caught my eye, and had me praying all over again... Pakistanis flee into Afghanistan
So I'm praying for her tonight...
De-Nile
Every so often, especially after a particularly wild or difficult night, I begin working to convince myself that all of the things I see, all of the things I experience, all of the things that feel inherently strange as I discover more about myself and the giftings God has placed within me, that all of these things are fake.
I tell myself that I'm crazy. Because losing my mind is somewhat preferable to the realities of spiritual warfare I occasionally encounter.
I tell myself that I must be mistaken, that I've imagined it. Because unreality is always preferable. False realities can be eliminated from the consciousness much more expediently than that which is reality.
I made a stab at this sort of denial tonight.
Trouble is, I made a stab at talking myself into the unreality while on the phone for a couple of hours with one of the very few people who have walked closely with me since August, when the Spirit of God showed up in new ways, and my life began spinning wildly out of control. And not only that, but this particular friend is the one I've called or emailed day after day and week after week, looking for the assurance that the things I was experiencing weren't so odd as they felt. And time after time she assured me that I wasn't slowly losing my mind. "The new normal" she called it. "Ruined for the ordinary," she said.
You can imagine how successful I was at talking myself into denial while on the phone with this particular friend!
So, I'm here, and I'm working once again at being okay with the crazier realities of my life. I'm still fighting the fears that tormented me through the night last night, but at the moment, I'm winning. I'm feeling peaceful, restored, glad for a restful afternoon, and thankful for a long phone conversation with my friend. I'm feeling like I can face the two days I have left at the office, and the myriad of people I need to see before I leave, and the tiny (and big) details that still need to be taken care of. I can do this. (At least I think I can!)
I'm off to do some tidying up - to sort what I need to put in the laundry tomorrow, so that I can pack Tuesday evening and Wednesday. And then, I'm going to crawl in bed with a novel... can't wait!
I tell myself that I'm crazy. Because losing my mind is somewhat preferable to the realities of spiritual warfare I occasionally encounter.
I tell myself that I must be mistaken, that I've imagined it. Because unreality is always preferable. False realities can be eliminated from the consciousness much more expediently than that which is reality.
I made a stab at this sort of denial tonight.
Trouble is, I made a stab at talking myself into the unreality while on the phone for a couple of hours with one of the very few people who have walked closely with me since August, when the Spirit of God showed up in new ways, and my life began spinning wildly out of control. And not only that, but this particular friend is the one I've called or emailed day after day and week after week, looking for the assurance that the things I was experiencing weren't so odd as they felt. And time after time she assured me that I wasn't slowly losing my mind. "The new normal" she called it. "Ruined for the ordinary," she said.
You can imagine how successful I was at talking myself into denial while on the phone with this particular friend!
So, I'm here, and I'm working once again at being okay with the crazier realities of my life. I'm still fighting the fears that tormented me through the night last night, but at the moment, I'm winning. I'm feeling peaceful, restored, glad for a restful afternoon, and thankful for a long phone conversation with my friend. I'm feeling like I can face the two days I have left at the office, and the myriad of people I need to see before I leave, and the tiny (and big) details that still need to be taken care of. I can do this. (At least I think I can!)
I'm off to do some tidying up - to sort what I need to put in the laundry tomorrow, so that I can pack Tuesday evening and Wednesday. And then, I'm going to crawl in bed with a novel... can't wait!
Walk On...
I'm sitting here, staring at the screen and wondering how to describe where I'm at this morning.
The time spent with friends yesterday was rich and beautiful, and ended with the community of praying people that the friends I'm traveling with are a part of in Canmore praying for our team as we went. I was glad for the opportunity to be there to be part of it.
Here's the thing, though. Yesterday made this trip real. Made it real how absolutely far outside of my comfort zone I've chosen to step over this next month and a bit. Made it real that in five days I'm getting on a plane and flying across the world to join friends to pray and live in community together, and to hopefully meet with Jesus.
I passed a restless night after arriving home. Sleep was fleeting. I woke often and battled the dreams and the middle of the night fears.
I knew this would come. It always does as I step into something I believe Jesus is calling me to, something outside my comfortable realm.
I have a friend who loves adventure - collects new opportunities wherever she can, can't handle life without change for very long. She once asked me, "Don' t you ever just want to burst out of your comfort zone? Doesn't it ever make you bored and you just long for change?" My answer was succinct. "No."
So I knew this would come, the onslaught of fears. I've been expecting it. And I know that I'll survive it and emerge relatively unscathed. But it never seems to get easier to make the journey through to the other side.
And so, this morning, I'm fighting the remnants of a tension headache I was hoping to sleep off. The tears are just below the surface, and I'm exhausted. I'm determined to fight back, to push through, but not sure where I'm going to find the strength and energy to accomplish that feat. So I'm sitting here, staring at a laptop screen, listening to the music I always listen to when I need to push through something - U2.
In a few minutes I'll get ready for church, and head out the door. I'm being commissioned this morning for my journey. A whole congregation gathered around myself and another girl who is also embarking on an adventure with Jesus for this next season, talking to Jesus about us.
In the meantime, I'm reminded of a line from Anne of Green Gables, "I'm feeling tired and provincial and about 10 years old..."
----------------
Now playing: U2 - Walk On
via FoxyTunes
The time spent with friends yesterday was rich and beautiful, and ended with the community of praying people that the friends I'm traveling with are a part of in Canmore praying for our team as we went. I was glad for the opportunity to be there to be part of it.
Here's the thing, though. Yesterday made this trip real. Made it real how absolutely far outside of my comfort zone I've chosen to step over this next month and a bit. Made it real that in five days I'm getting on a plane and flying across the world to join friends to pray and live in community together, and to hopefully meet with Jesus.
I passed a restless night after arriving home. Sleep was fleeting. I woke often and battled the dreams and the middle of the night fears.
I knew this would come. It always does as I step into something I believe Jesus is calling me to, something outside my comfortable realm.
I have a friend who loves adventure - collects new opportunities wherever she can, can't handle life without change for very long. She once asked me, "Don' t you ever just want to burst out of your comfort zone? Doesn't it ever make you bored and you just long for change?" My answer was succinct. "No."
So I knew this would come, the onslaught of fears. I've been expecting it. And I know that I'll survive it and emerge relatively unscathed. But it never seems to get easier to make the journey through to the other side.
And so, this morning, I'm fighting the remnants of a tension headache I was hoping to sleep off. The tears are just below the surface, and I'm exhausted. I'm determined to fight back, to push through, but not sure where I'm going to find the strength and energy to accomplish that feat. So I'm sitting here, staring at a laptop screen, listening to the music I always listen to when I need to push through something - U2.
In a few minutes I'll get ready for church, and head out the door. I'm being commissioned this morning for my journey. A whole congregation gathered around myself and another girl who is also embarking on an adventure with Jesus for this next season, talking to Jesus about us.
In the meantime, I'm reminded of a line from Anne of Green Gables, "I'm feeling tired and provincial and about 10 years old..."
----------------
Now playing: U2 - Walk On
via FoxyTunes
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