Breathing

I'm feeling oddly relaxed today. Can't explain it really.

It could be the casual clothes.

It could be that I slept almost 7 hours straight last night for the first time in a couple weeks.

I should be stressed about some work stuff. I'm not. I'm letting everyone else be stressed about that. I'm resting in the knowledge that I've done everything possible to this point on my end, and that any problems are not at this point my fault or my problem.

I'm remembering to breathe. And it's good.

What's Working and What's Not

I've learned, in weeks when I'm particularly tired and overwhelmed or stressed, to take a minute, pause and ask myself two questions:

1. What's working this week?
2. What's not working this week?

Here are some things that are working this week:

• dinner with Kari
• baths with lovely scented bath salts from the Rocky Mountain Soap Company and a really good novel
• going to bed early last night
• tea lights in the living room as prayers
• burning incense just before bed to fill my room with a spicy scent last night
• long johns
• leaving my shoes at work instead of carrying them back and forth
• wool socks
• emails with a few friends
• good news from my brother
• dinner with mom and dad and a few others the other night

These are some things that are not working this week:

• taking the train home several days in a row instead of the bus
• having something scheduled every night, and well into next week
• the wait and see stress level at my office right now
• eating on a scattered schedule and a rather unbalanced diet
• being the fallout person for every problem someone has with an office machine, or every question they just don't quite know how to answer

The big thing that stands out to me from these two lists is the "taking the train home" one. I've missed climbing on the bus, and settling in for the next hour and a half to read, think, listen to my ipod, or just stare out the window. That space has become "sabbath" space for me, and on the weeks when my schedule doesn't permit me to make my commute home longer, I feel the pressure. I've compensated with taking hot baths, but it doesn't help as much - it doesn't separate my workday from my evening the way the bus ride does.

So, next week, I'm going to try and take the bus a little more often!

The Little Things

This week is insanely busy, and it's starting to get to me.

So I'm shut up in my bedroom, enjoying the quiet. In a few minutes I'll crawl into bed, and do a little reading, then turn the lights out early.

Tonight I'm realizing that I can find rest in the little things:

• in a long bath with a good novel, and my favorite bath salts.
• in incense burnt in my bedroom, making the air spicy and beautiful
• in decorating a Christmas tree - even if it does look a little "Charlie Brown" like
• in slathering on hand cream for sore skin
• in a quick spray of my favorite perfume
• in comfy sweat pants to wear to bed
• in a really good chocolate
• in a cup of tea
• in wrapping myself in a blanket and curling up on the couch
• in emails from a few dear friends
• in a photo of a special spot in the mountains that's hanging on my bedroom wall
• in a clean bedroom
• in a warm duvet cover
• in a quick dinner with a dear friend
• in taking vitamins and knowing I'm taking good care of myself
• in facial moisturizer that I really like, and that doesn't make my crazy sensitive skin break out
• in anticipating travels over the next while
• in a pretty vase on display in my bedroom
• in a smile from a friend
• in laughter with a coworker over mutually "blond" moments
• in the nearness of Jesus
• in a favorite Psalm
• in a moment's prayer
• in hearing a friend's heart - even the painful bits.
• in knowing that there are only two work days left this week, and one of them is casual Friday.
• in the satisfaction of knowing I've done my job well this week, despite crazy and sometimes adverse circumstances.
• in clean-smelling, freshly washed hair, hanging damp around my face
• in warmth and light
• in the birth of a friend's child
• in a favorite teddy bear named "Nelly"
• in cozy wool socks that don't itch
• in music
• in a great novel I've just finished
• in twinkling Christmas lights on the tree
  

Tonight, I'm all about the little things.

Breaking hearts and Wednesday Transit Adventures

This is one of those mornings. It is, indeed, a Wednesday!

I slept poorly again last night, waking often (though this has become the norm lately and I think I am once again adapting to functioning with less sleep).

I woke dry-heaving, and feeling ill, but knowing I needed to head for the office.

I managed to make it out the door and to the train on time, but no sooner had I climbed on the train then there was a passenger medical emergency that delayed us at the stop for an extra ten minutes, officially putting me on track to be late.

While the train was delayed at the station, a rough looking older man pushed his way on. Transit delays generally make the entire over-crowded train population grumpy, and this gentleman was no exception. He began to loudly expound upon his views on everything from the coming plans for expansion of the c-train line, and how ridiculous he finds them. As we finally got underway, he simply continued talking, holding a conversation with another woman who chose to agree with him at each turn. His comments became rapidly more ignorant and offensive, as he complained about the province of Alberta providing disaster relief a few years back to another province, “that’s money we paid in for our own. They’re not our own.” He then moved on to complain about money Stephen Harper has recently committed of African aid projects for much the same reason – it’s not caring for our own. Another woman on the train made eye contact with me at that point, saw her thoughts reflected on my face, and smiled. I made a comment to her about the necessity of providing aid to starving nations. As I glanced away, a beautiful black muslim lady found my eyes with her own, and smiled at me.

The gentleman, however, charged on with his diatribe. Content that he’d covered his political bases, he complained at the high cost of living in Calgary, regaled us with his adventures of living on or nearly on the street (he’d had a run in with the police yesterday), and flashed his Canada Pension check, boasting at the large amount he received. Not satisfied with that, he and the woman he was talking with began to discuss the cost of living in other Canadian cities in comparison to Calgary. Vancouver came up, and of course, this man had lived in Surrey a number of years back. His next comments became increasingly racist – horribly rude things, directed mostly at Muslims.

By this point, the anger in me was building. All I could think was how desperately I wanted to get off of that train and away from this man. (I also wanted to punch him in the nose!) There were two beautiful Muslim women on the train in close enough proximity to hear this gentleman’s comments this morning, and I found my heart breaking at his rudeness.

As I got off at my stop, and walked to the platform where I transfer trains, I was reminded again of the Sunday school lesson I taught a few weeks back. Of the question we posed, “What would make Jesus angry today? What would break his heart?” I paused as I began to see Jesus, standing between this man and the two women on the train. I saw him wincing as the words hit him like whips, tearing into him. And I understood, just a little bit more, the power of words. More than that, I understood, again, just a little bit more, the way the heart of the father breaks at things done and said without love. And my heart broke too.

Lyrics...

Was listening to Steve Bell's album of Bruce Cockburn covers the other day, and was caught by the last verse of the song "Pacing the Cage."

Sometimes the best map will not guide you
You can't see what's round the bend
Sometimes the road leads through dark places
Sometimes the darkness is your friend
Today these eyes scan bleached-out land
For the coming of the outbound stage
Pacing the cage
Pacing the cage

My friend Andrea played a song for me after a coffee date one night about a month or so ago... the lyrics caught me, reminded me of a person I used to know, one I'd bumped into that night... I've listened to the song a few times again these last few days (it was on the mix cd she gave me on the weekend...) the lyrics are still catching me, reminding me of so many broken young women I've been or continue to be involved with...

i see her wander around, princess without her crown, stumblin' and fallin' down beneath her burden. she's floating through our town, bride without her gown, passin' her heart around to numb the hurting.

she's scared of coming home, she's been so long alone, she's stat upon her throne, until it crumbled, now she's got to choose, she's nothing left to lose, she's battered and she's bruised and feeling humbled as saying her prayers to no-one.

who is her brother, who is her keeper? where is her lover, can anyone reach her? cup of cold water, in the name of the Father, sending a letter to the prodigal daughter.

now where is love everyone, for all the one's who mourn, for those who suffer scorn and have no father. maybe to bless not curse, maybe the last not first, maybe the ones who thirst, will find the water.

her lover sees inside, He sees with lovers eyes, He sees a radiant bride, with passion burning. everything's upside down, her rags become her gown, her scars become her crown with no returning and i sing my song to you baby!

who is her brother, who is her keeper? where is her lover, can anyone reach her? a cup of cold water, in the name of the Father, sending a letter to the prodigal daughter.

By: Andrew Smith

Pause

It's 4:00. My work day ends at 4:30. I'll be glad when another day is over.

I'm pausing, just for a moment.

Eating a mandarin orange.

Stretching my neck.

Filling my water bottle.

Listening to a song off a mix cd my friend Andrea gave to me on Sunday night.

Thinking about the fact that in less than two hours I'm sitting down to turkey dinner. My mom is making turkey, and invited my roommate and I to join my parents and some guests to consume said turkey. Not my all-time favorite meal by any stretch, but I'm grateful to not have to cook for myself tonight.

Okay, end of pause.

See ya later!

Having Reverence and Respect for the Body - Henri Nouwen

Another great reflection from Henri Nouwen today...

Having Reverence and Respect for the Body

In so many ways we use and abuse our bodies. Jesus' coming to us in the body and his being lifted with his body in the glory of God call us to treat our bodies and the bodies of others with great reverence and respect.

God, through Jesus, has made our bodies sacred places where God has chosen to dwell. Our faith in the resurrection of the body, therefore, calls us to care for our own and one another's bodies with love. When we bind one another's wounds and work for the healing of one another's bodies, we witness to the sacredness of the human body, a body destined for eternal life.

Thankful...

Because today is ending a lot better than it started, and I want to remember that Jesus works even in the really crappy moments...

Tonight, I'm thankful:

• for my baby brother and his huge heart for people and God and the world.
• that he partnered with me in a ministry opportunity tonight, letting me relax more readily, because he helped carry the somewhat awkward at times conversation.
• for dear friends spread across the country.
• for one friend in particular who has been a special gift in this crazy intense season of life, and ever so patiently and helpfully answers my myriad of questions as I learn to walk out some new things that Jesus is placing in my life.
• that Jesus is placing new things in my life.
• for a great time with friends at the Paul Brandt concert last night.
• for photos of Paris hanging on my living room wall.
• for my mom who sent stuff with my brother that should help cure the mild infection that I've currently got in my nose piercing.
• for the book of Psalms, and particularly Eugene Peterson's translation of many of the Psalms in "The Message."
• for books in general, and any of the Mitford or Father Tim novels by Jan Karon in specific.
• for a heart that is being broadened to the world - even when I'm pretty sure that it will kill me as it is stretched and broken.
• for one day down, and only four left before the weekend.
• that my mom is cooking turkey dinner tomorrow night, and invited my roommate and I to come and eat.
• for cozy furry socks on a freezing cold day.
• for warm pajamas, and a soft duvet.
• for a peaceful heart and a sense of the presence of Jesus so closely with me these days.
• for an appointment tonight that was far less intense than anticipated. (I needed the break.)

I think that'll do it for tonight. I always feel better after stopping to list this stuff.

Thanks Jesus, for all the blessings you've poured out on my life today, even in the midst of the ugly stuff.

Holding My Place

Is it weird to say that I already knew late last night what this week would look like? That I think Jesus was whispering a warning to me, letting me know that this would be a week that would require much of me, that would sap my energy, drain my strength, and test my resolve?

I was at a Paul Brandt concert last night - and it was FANTASTIC! worth every minute over the last five years that I've waited because I missed getting tickets when they sold out too quickly. I had a GREAT TIME! A much needed time to chill out, to not think, to relax and laugh and sing along with friends. My only regret is that I looked at the ticket, and it said "no cameras" so I left mine in the trunk of my friend's car. So many people had cameras, and we had great seats, would have been nice to have the camera there with me...

As my roommate and I were driving home, though, I began to feel the whispers...

And I knew, with a great deal of certainty, that I wasn't going to get much sleep last night. (this proved true - I was horizontal, with my eyes closed for about six hours, but was awake for much of that, I know I came awake at least 4 separate times).

I woke feeling nauseous, achy, and knowing exactly what kind of day I was about to push through.

I'm not interested in fighting, though I know I'm under attack just presently.

Gaining ground is not even on my radar this week.

I will be happy with holding my place. With making it through without collapse or defeat. That, in my eyes, will be a victory this week.

I'm listening to a mix cd that I made for a friend a few months ago. The lyrics are spilling over me and helping me to hold on. They're helping me to ignore the tension in the office around me. They're helping me to ignore the migraine that's threatening. They're helping me to ignore the fact that my body's thermostat is once again acting up and refusing to heat me. They're helping me to ignore the upset stomach, and the infected nose piercing, and the general desire to melt into a puddle and cry my eyes out.

Henri Nouwen again...

I liked these two reflections from Henri Nouwen...

The Hidden Resurrection

The resurrection of Jesus was a hidden event. Jesus didn't rise from the grave to baffle his opponents, to make a victory statement, or to prove to those who crucified him that he was right after all. Jesus rose as a sign to those who had loved him and followed him that God's divine love is stronger than death. To the women and men who had committed themselves to him, he revealed that his mission had been fulfilled. To those who shared in his ministry, he gave the sacred task to call all people into the new life with him.

The world didn't take notice. Only those whom he called by name, with whom he broke bread, and to whom he spoke words of peace were aware of what happened. Still, it was this hidden event that freed humanity from the shackles of death.

Wounds Becoming Signs of Glory

The resurrection of Jesus is the basis of our faith in the resurrection of our bodies. Often we hear the suggestion that our bodies are the prisons of our souls and that the spiritual life is the way out of these prisons. But by our faith in the resurrection of the body we proclaim that the spiritual life and the life in the body cannot be separated. Our bodies, as Paul says, are temples of the Holy Spirit (see 1 Corinthians 6:19) and, therefore, sacred. The resurrection of the body means that what we have lived in the body will not go to waste but will be lifted in our eternal life with God. As Christ bears the marks of his suffering in his risen body, our bodies in the resurrection will bear the marks of our suffering. Our wounds will become signs of glory in the resurrection.

Loved this post...

I read this post today... loved the way he put these thoughts.

From the ashes...

I came across this poem, written after a completely crazy week almost two years ago, tonight. I blogged it then, and find it rather appropriate now, for the week I had once again this week...

you can find the link to it here.

Saturday afternoon quiet

I've had three separate sets of plans for how I was going to spend this afternoon fall through.

So, I'm hanging out on my own, and enjoying an empty house.

Little known fact: You know those tiny cobs of corn that you find in asian cooking. I LOVE them. I buy cans of them and eat them raw, for a snack. I'm eating them right now, in fact.

Another little know fact: I may hate sports in general, but I actually quite enjoy watching individual sports in the background on television. Just at the moment I'm watching women's giant slalom world cup skiing while I lay here snacking, emailing, blogging and reading.

I have a stack of four or five books I'm going to dabble in reading this afternoon. A variety of fiction and non-fiction.

My laundry is running in the background. Our washing machine is quite possibly the loudest one I've ever encountered. But, I'll be glad for clean socks and towels and pajamas later. I may even change the sheets on my bed if I'm feeling ambitious later.

I think I'll cook a nice supper tonight. Baked chicken, roasted baby potatoes and asparagus. Some of my favorites.

Oh, and before I forget, you absolutely HAVE TO go see the movie, "August Rush". My brother and I saw it last night, and it was fantastic. So beautiful. Great acting and great characters and full of beautiful music. Seriously, go see it, you won't regret it.

And with that, I think I'll either nap or read or both!

Until later....

that kind of week...

It's been that kind of week. What kind, you ask?

The kind where my normally unemotional roommate comes to me, asks me to read a psalm with her, and that leads into her crying and us praying together.

The kind where at the last minute a huge amount of work is sprung on me.

The kind where I get a message from a young friend, telling me she's leaving town for an undetermined length of time, to step into a somewhat dangerous situation.

The kind where emotions and hormones go hand in hand and spiral all over the place.

The kind where I find myself sitting across the desk from someone twice my age, as she unburdens her frustrations, anger, depression and grief.

The kind where I apply for a new job, but have no idea when I'll hear anything about whether or not I'm going to get it.

The kind where I spend an entire night awake and dreaming, excessively thirsty, and wondering what it means.

The kind where I finally (after 3 weeks) sit down with my best friend for lunch, and hear that she's had exactly the same kind of week.

The kind where I make 2 different sets of plans for Saturday, and then both fall through.

The kind where I'm really, really glad for a quiet weekend, plans with my brother, and a scheduled trip to the park.

Self-Curing a Bad Mood

Soo… this has been a wild and crazy week emotions wise, sleep wise, health wise, God wise, and work wise, and I find myself desperately in need of my own self-cure for a bad mood today (though I’m in a better mood today than I’ve been all week).

In no particular order, these are the things that I’m thankful for, that are making me smile, or that I love today:

• lunch plans in less than an hour with Megs.
• a completely unplanned and unexpected, but good prayer time with my roommate last night.
• wearing jeans to work today
• wearing my new favorite "bohemian" top
• that's it's Friday
• that the weather is hovering near zero, and it's sunny
• that the skies have been clear all week, providing stunning views of the sun rise reflecting on the mountains as I travel in to work each day
• mandarin orange season
• plans to see a movie with my brother tonight (August Rush, I think)
• the funny card that Rae sent me a few months back sitting propped on my desk
• ferrero rocher
• bright colors
• a roommate who's loaning me her car for a few hours tomorrow morning so that I can go to the park for a while
• plans to walk and pray, drink tea and journal and take photos in the park tomorrow morning
• bottled water
• comfy (but still cute) shoes
• Paul Brandt concert tickets with three friends for Sunday night - I've been trying to get tickets for five years, and always fail to hear about the concert until it's sold out.
• a relaxed set of weekend plans after a crazy week
• tea
• Jars of Clay - the original album "Jars of Clay"
• certain Christmas albums (The Barenaked Ladies "Barenaked for the Holidays" - so funny! and Kathy Mattea's Christmas album whose title I can't remember and am too lazy to look up just at this moment)
• the inventor of magic bags
• stoned wheat thins crackers
• long bus rides at the end of the day in which to decompress, read, think, pray.
• incense burning in a candlelit bedroom
• photos of friends
• anything that inspires creativity
• a heart that is being (somewhat painfully - see last night's post) expanded by God to encompass the world
• friends who write (I love to see the world through their written eyes)
• facebook - currently letting me keep in touch with a friend in crisis, and friends all around the world
• anticipation for Malta
• plans to spend a day in the mountains with my roommate next weekend - we looked at each other last night and decided we needed mountains... yes, we both have way too much to do, but we'll just take our work and laptops with us, and find a coffee shop somewhere... and then, hotsprings baby!
• a variety of fun plans next week - dinner with my brother and some friends, my brother's christmas choir concert, an art gala
• sweatpants
• deep breathing
• smoked gouda
• cucumber
• chicken cooked just about any way...
• generosity of friends
• a continued knowledge of Jesus walking closely with me

I think that's a pretty good list for today... I'm feeling better... see ya later!

Waiting for Christ to Come (Henri Nouwen)

Another great reflection from Henri Nouwen arrived in my inbox this morning...

Waiting for Christ to Come

If we do not wait patiently in expectation for God's coming in glory, we start wandering around, going from one little sensation to another. Our lives get stuffed with newspaper items, television stories, and gossip. Then our minds lose the disciline of discerning between what leads us closer to God and what doesn't, and our hearts gradually lose their spiritual sensitivity.

Without waiting for the second coming of Christ, we will stagnate quickly and become tempted to indulge in whatever gives us a moment of pleasure. When Paul asks us to wake from sleep, he says: "Let us live decently, as in the light of day; with no orgies or drunkenness, no promiscuity or licentiousness, and no wrangling or jealousy. Let your armour be the Lord Jesus Christ, and stop worrying about how your disordered natural inclinations may be fulfilled" (Romans 13:13-14).

When we have the Lord to look forward to, we can already experience him in the waiting.When we have the Lord to look forward to we can already experience him in the waiting.

Hoping to Survive....

This last while has been a completely unexplainable, no words will quite do, period in my life.

My eyes are being opened to the world. I am being drawn to the nations.

There. I said it. In print, where it can't be revoked.

Can I now say that I'm absolutely terrified by that last statement?

Jesus is asking me to let Him have my heart in new and deep ways.

(hold on a second, I need to light candles as prayers if I'm actually going to write this)

An hour ago I sat in a hot bath, filled with sweetly scented salts made by a little company in Canmore, and fought back the tears. I finished reading a novel I picked up yesterday, and while it wasn't exactly the story that made my heart break, it was still a catalyst.

I wonder, at regular intervals these days if I am going to survive this expanding of my heart.

As I allow Jesus ever nearer, my heart is beginning to break.

Like a cadence repeating itself through my brain these days is the oft quoted prayer, "Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God."

Even now, years later, I remember so clearly the first time I heard someone quote this prayer. This funny Iranian evangelist, who lived in Alabama, a guy named David Nasser was preaching the story of Ezra - tearing his clothes and weeping at the sins of Israel, and he asked those sitting in the audience, "Does your heart break at the things that break God's heart?"

That question burrowed deep - I remember going back to high school after that weekend, and sitting in class and listening to all of the tales of partying and dissatisfaction from the weekend, and feeling my heart shatter, as I thought about the heart of the father for these people who surrounded me.

The prayer came back again, a whisper in my consciousness as I taught Sunday school a few weeks back. We worked our way through the story of Jesus clearing the temple courts, and stopped to pose the question, "What makes Jesus angry today?" It came on the heels of hosting a weekend of prayer in my home. A weekend where I found myself praying my way across a map of the world, and through the faces and hearts that belong to those nations.

I have guarded my heart selfishly and callously for years, wanting to avoid the heartache I knew would come quite inevitably if I allowed myself to truly see other people and other nations.

I have held myself in check, carefully, letting very few burrow past my defenses.

Those who do, sometimes surprise me.

I wept over a beautiful young girl who was three when she lost her life to the preventable illness of malaria.

I wept when dear friends suffered a miscarriage.

And now, so many things are slipping past those defenses.

I find my heart shattering on a nearly daily basis.

And I wonder, some days, if I will survive this painful stretching.

theme?

So, there seems to be a developing theme for me again lately...

A week or two ago I mentioned here that I had started reading the first ever book I've picked up on AIDS and Africa. Africa has been a growing presence in my conciousness lately, and that has been a little bizarre, since I've worked for years to keep it in the corners of my mind.

I pulled a novel off my shelves last night, looking for light reading to pass the bus trip to and from the office. It was one I've only read once, but remembered enjoying.

Once again the story has sucked me in, but I have to admit, it's not the light reading I was looking for. One again, it's a story encompassing AIDS, poverty and Africa.

like I said... a theme...

Fuzzy... and other things

My headache isn't going away. (I may have to take another pill.) And it's making my brain functions just a little bit fuzzy.

I'm feeling relief. I've followed through on a decision, and made (at least as much as possible at this point) a commitment.

I talked to the young lady I desperately needed to track down last night. She leaves tomorrow. At least I have a way to contact her in the new city and make sure (as much as one can long distance wise) that she's okay on a weekly basis for the next while. I've got a few feelers out for resources and support for her in that city as well. I fear just a little for her - she's walking back into a situation that has in the past been threatening. Praying protection, peace, a shield and covering over her life. Praying that she would know the support of those who love her, know that she's not alone. Praying that the lies that are bombarding her would not penetrate.

I am not by nature good at long-distance crisis. I am a planner, a fixer. When something like this happens, I find myself mentally evaluating what the worst that could happen is, and then working solutions to that in my head. So this morning I've thought about phone calls from hospitals, needing to get a flight out there, wondering if another friend would travel with me, and how I would afford those things.

And then, I realize that I'm taking control again, and I find myself once again in front of Jesus, having to say, "My hands are open, take this from me. I'm not in control, and I can't fix or heal this, but you can. May your will be done. Use me or don't. Protect her life and comfort her."

I think that this is a good place to be.

Things I'm Thinking About Right this Second

These are the short version of the things at the front of my mind at this moment:

• I'm excited for the Paul Brandt concert I'm attending on Sunday night with 3 friends.
• I'm thankful for tea.
• I'm distracted by a headache and stiff neck muscles. Debating the merits of painkillers to make the day more doable.
• I'm applying for a job that I'll likely get today. A big change. More on that later.
• I'm having dinner with a friend tonight. Looking forward to that. Hoping we don't eat at Moxies again. I've been eating there a lot lately.
• I'm hoping that today doesn't follow in the pattern of recent Wednesdays. I'm hoping that yesterday's crazyness abated my "Wednesday" for the week.
• I'm praying for a friend who's walking into an unstable, uncertain situation. She flys out tomorrow for an undetermined length of time.
• I'm praying for another friend who's also going through a bit of a rough time. And her best friend is the aforementioned friend who's leaving town with no specified return date.
• I'm thinking that I'm going to eat a cookie that I baked the other day, and a mandarin orange and sip my tea now.

See ya later!

More from Nouwen on Waiting

Waiting in Expectation

Waiting patiently for God always includes joyful expectation. Without expectation our waiting can get bogged down in the present. When we wait in expectation our whole beings are open to be surprised by joy.

All through the Gospels Jesus tells us to keep awake and stay alert. And Paul says, "Brothers and sisters ... the moment is here for you to stop sleeping and wake up, because by now our salvation is nearer than when we first began to believe. The night is nearly over, daylight is on the way; so let us throw off everything that belongs to the darkness and equip ourselves for the light" (Romans 13:11-12). It is this joyful expectation of God's coming that offers vitality to our lives. The expectation of the fulfillment of God's promises to us is what allows us to pay full attention to the road on which we are walking.

Great Thoughts from Ghandi

Someone sent me this today, and I thought it was great...

7 Deadly Social Sins

Politics without principle
Wealth without work
Commerce without morality
Pleasure without conscience
Education without character
Science without humanity
Worship without sacrifice

Mahatma Ghandi

Thirsty, and Taking it Back?

Have you ever prayed one of those prayers that, only days later, you find yourself mentally taking back, as you’re right in the middle of the answer to it? One of those dangerous prayers, that you don’t quite understand the ramifications of as you’re speaking it out to the Lord?

I find myself in the middle of a day filled with that today. Two days ago I wrote that I was asking the Lord to make me a person who “sees” – both literally and otherwise. I don’t think I meant it!

This is how my day has gone (starting from last night, because that’s where my story seems to begin).

I went swimming with my roommate and one of her coworkers last night. I haven’t been swimming for exercise in years, and it’s been at least six months since I was last in a swimming pool of any sort. I love the water. I love everything about swimming pools – even the chlorine smell. That’s what years of being part of and coaching for a synchronized swimming club does to your brain. It was a spur of the moment decision to join them, but I’m so very glad that I did.

I came home, returned a few emails, and fell asleep on the couch, trying to watch a television program I enjoy. And not the normal, half-asleep kind of thing either – I was out cold, and snapped awake as the show ended. I groggily stumbled towards bed, forgoing the usual pre-bedtime routine, and crashed hard. For two hours, or maybe three.

The rest of the night is kind of blurry. I’m not sure if I was awake, or dreaming. For hours I lay there, aware of an intense thirst, but too groggy to do much about it. The water bottle I keep in my bed was nearly empty, so I drained it, but was still so thirsty. I know I must have been awake at some point, because I must have climbed out of bed to grab another bottle of water – there was one in bed with me this morning.

I think I probably only slept about 4 hours, as I lay there, so thirsty, and praying.

I was talking to Jesus on the train this morning – today is the day I’m finalizing a major life decision, and I’m committed to spend a chunk of time today in a final period of seeking direction and guidance before finalizing the decision into something more permanent. And as I was talking with him, all I could think about again was how thirsty I’d been. And how I feel that same thirst for growing encounters with Christ and his redemption.

I got to work as usual, and found a slightly strange email awaiting me from a young woman who has a messy home situation, and with whom I’ve been walking out life this last while. I sent her a quick clarifying email and went on with my day.

Within an hour I found myself in a conversation that required me to be willing to really “see” and “hear” the person I was talking to. An awkward, pain-filled conversation. But good.

Another hour, and I received a very concerning response by email from my young friend. In this case, I’m needing to “see” in a much more metaphorical sense, as I talk to Jesus about her. She’s leaving town, stepping back into the midst of the messy situation she moved to Calgary to escape. (If you’re the praying sort, I’d love it if you’d pray for her)

After lunch with a good friend (very restorative, I might add!), I returned to the office.

Again – seeing, in the metaphorical sense. There are some things that live under the surface in our office and every so often come up for air. They’re airing themselves today, and the atmosphere shifted as they did.

I have to tell you that people who are raised as pacifists don’t seem to make for well-adjusted adults. I’ve never met a group of people more desperate to avoid conflict, and more unable to appropriately handle conflict when it does arrive.

I’ve been so tempted, as I’ve spent my day seeing and hearing to rescind that prayer from Sunday morning. “Lord, I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t.”

But I won’t. I’ll keep seeing, and hearing, and learning to see and hear more deeply. And I’ll keep talking with Jesus about the things I’m seeing and hearing. I’m thirsty, so thirsty, for more.

Nouwen on Active Waiting...

I loved this thought this morning. Partly because I'm a huge fan of the idea of there being seasons of life. Partly because I've been part of a great number of seasons of waiting in expectance for something to be birthed or come to fruition these last few years.

Active Waiting

Waiting is essential to the spiritual life. But waiting as a disciple of Jesus is not an empty waiting. It is a waiting with a promise in our hearts that makes already present what we are waiting for. We wait during Advent for the birth of Jesus. We wait after Easter for the coming of the Spirit, and after the ascension of Jesus we wait for his coming again in glory. We are always waiting, but it is a waiting in the conviction that we have already seen God's footsteps.

Waiting for God is an active, alert - yes, joyful - waiting. As we wait we remember him for whom we are waiting, and as we remember him we create a community ready to welcome him when he comes.

Henri Nouwen on "Ministry"

More great thoughts from Henri Nouwen.

Ministry and the Spiritual Life

All Jesus' words and actions emerge from his intimate relationships with his Father. "Do you not believe," Jesus says, "that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? What I say to you I do not speak of my own accord: it is the Father, living in me, who is doing his works. You must believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe it on the evidence of these works" (John 14:10-11).

Just as all Jesus' words and actions emerge from his communion with his Father, so all our words and actions must emerge from our communion with Jesus. "In all truth I tell you," he says, "whoever believes in me will perform the same works as I do myself, and will perform even greater works. ... Whatever you ask for in my name I will do" (John 14:12-13). It is this profound truth that reveals the relationship between the spiritual life and the life of ministry.

Acting in the Name of Jesus

Ministry is acting in the Name of Jesus. When all our actions are in the Name, they will bear fruit for eternal life. To act in the Name of Jesus, however, doesn't mean to act as a representative of Jesus or his spokesperson. It means to act in an intimate communion with him. The Name is like a house, a tent, a dwelling. To act in the Name of Jesus, therefore, means to act from the place where we are united with Jesus in love. To the question "Where are you?" we should be able to answer, "I am in the Name." Then, whatever we do cannot be other than ministry because it will always be Jesus himself who acts in and through us. The final question for all who minister is "Are you in the Name of Jesus?"" When we can say yes to that, all of our lives will be ministry.

Bright Red Shoes and Other Smiles

It’s funny how a person’s outlook can be affected by colors.

When I used to work for the Bay, and had to wear their black and white color scheme day after day, I’d take great pleasure in coming home and changing into something colorful. Or, I’d punch up the uniformity of the black and white by tying a brightly scarf in my hear, wearing wild earrings, or a brightly colored tank top under my white blouse.

I’m wearing a rather boring, professional, black and white outfit today. One I like, but one that lacks artistic inspiration. However, I’m also wearing a brand new pair of bright red shoes today. I found them on sale yesterday, and they called my name. I’ve been hunting for an affordable pair of red shoes for months now – have almost bought some several times, but have run into snags with sizing (or lack thereof).

Yes, they were a luxury item, not a necessity, but I found mine for $20 yesterday, and jumped at the chance to purchase them. They have pointy toes, and kitten heels, and are generally bright and cheerful. Every time I glance down at my feet, I see the bright red and smile.

I’m needing things that make me smile today, as I’m tired and still struggling with an ongoing decision making process. I’ve arbitrarily set a mid-week deadline on this one – I can’t handle the over-thinking, thought process much longer than that.

So, just to remind myself, here are a few other things making me smile today…

Bright red shoes.

Wildly curly hair – kind of lion’s mane like, and going everywhere.

Finally warming up after the cold commute to work.

Two cups of tea (one passion tea, one rooibos).

An email from a friend this morning.

Lunch plans with two separate friends this week. Dinner plans with a third, and possibly fourth friend.

Plans to see a movie with my brother this coming weekend.

Sleeping through most of the night last night.

Plans to take the bus home from work tonight and enjoy reading (the book on Africa I started a week ago, and a novel) for an hour and a half.

Caught My Eye...

The Queen is going to Malta tomorrow, to celebrate her 60th wedding anniversary. Apparantly her husband was stationed in Malta with the British navy when they were married 60 years ago.

I read that here, in an online article from today's paper. And all I could think was, "in two months, I'm going to Malta too!"

I also happen to think that 60 years of marriage is worth celebrating. Very cool.

Invisible - Thoughts on Seeing and Being Seen

I woke this morning out of an intense dream. I was in a room, with a few other people, and I was focusing on one person in particular – a friend who’s just returned from a mission trip to Asia. I wanted to hear about his trip. But what was really important to me in the moment was that he know that he was being heard and seen – that I wanted to hear not just the stories, but his heart. And everything about my response to him was working to communicate that. I sat patiently. I made eye contact. I asked questions, and listened, and waited for him to find the words to respond. I wanted him to know that he was being seen.

And then I woke, slightly confused. The friend I dreamt about is not one I would likely ever have that conversation with. He lives in another province, and we are friends in the sense that we attended the same church for several years (until he and his wife moved, and I left), and had conversations – but not in the deep heart sharing sense of the word friends.

And as I lay in bed, talking with Jesus and letting the dream simply wash over me (so much nicer when the dreams come on weekends, and I can take a few minutes to process them, instead of carrying their weight with me as I rush into my day) I realized how deeply I feel about this idea of seeing and being seen.

I have spent many years perfecting the art of invisibility – particularly in settings that involve large groups of Christians. I was always so different from those I was with, that I worked to not be noticed – to blend into the background. I hid my intelligence, my passions, my giftings – sometimes even from myself. And, to be honest, I think I even started to believe that I really was invisible – I was not seen, and therefore I had no worth.

As I thought about that concept, another friend came to mind. A dear friend. Perhaps what I appreciate most about her is that long before we became friends, she “saw” me. She went out of her way to greet me at church. If we were doing a group activity (I remember one particularly goofy one where we were supposed to find someone we’d not talked with very much and tell what our favorite childhood games were) she would occasionally seek me out. She made a point of letting me know that she saw me. When we finally found ourselves sitting next to each other in a pub after church one Sunday night, and beginning to share stories it was incredible. There, in that smoky, dimly lit pub, we bonded over stories of redemption. Later, we both admitted that we’d wanted to get to know the other for quite some time – I think she told me that I “seemed like someone who would have deep and beautiful things going on under the surface.”

And here’s something to admit – when someone begins to “see” me, I can quickly become selfish with their attention. I can demand it, and fail to “see” them, in return. This tends to mellow, as the relationship grows, but is a tendency I work to curb. I love to talk about myself – I notice this particularly in contexts where I am teaching. I am more and more conscious of the fact that instead of really listening to the students and young adults in the Sunday school class or Bible study that I teach, I am planning my next statement, telling my own story. I thought about that as I sat and taught this morning – a lesson on Nicodemus coming to Jesus at night “you must be born again.” I wanted to answer some of the questions I was posing to my students – to jump in with a fantastic story or point. Today, I somehow managed to successfully fight the urge, and I’m so glad I did. The answers grew deeper and more revealing as I looked at each girl as she shared. They let me into their lives in ways they probably wouldn’t have if I’d jumped in told a story or made a point.

These last months I have begun to “see” things more deeply again. Often I “see” things that are not immediately obvious on the surface. It’s a bit of a weird space to occupy. And yet, as I’ve begun to see more deeply, I’ve also struggled far more deeply with feeling invisible than I have in quite some time – ironic, because for maybe the first time in my life I am walking closely in relationship with several dear friends, and know on a deep heart level that I am not alone – that I am seen and that I am loved.

Here’s what I took from my crazy morning dream. I want to work on being a person who really “sees” others. I want to listen more and talk less. I want to hear the things that are being said, as well as the things that aren’t (which are sometimes far more revealing of the person, wouldn’t you agree?). I want to be a person who sees and listens and talks to Jesus about the things she sees and hears.

And yes, I want to be seen – to know that others see and hear the deep places within me, and that in spite of the flaws (like self-centeredness at times) they love and value me.

But truth – I think that it is more important to be a person who sees, than a person who is seen. Because a person who sees invariably invites others to see as well.

mis-matched

Have you ever had a day when your insides and outsides just didn't quite match?

I'm having one today.

My outsides look good - I know this because I spent quite a bit of time on my appearance this morning, styled my hair, put on makeup, and nice, new clothes - a cute outfit I picked up last night. I received several compliments on how I looked at church this morning.

However, my insides don't match.

Today I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm fighting with anger. I'm overthinking. I'm resenting things that I shouldn't. I'm working to avoid the internal workings of my soul. I'm quite frankly harboring a bad mood.

I am having a difficult time making a decision that will affect a large portion of the next two years of my life. It's in moments like this that I desperately want to go back to being a child - to having someone else be responsible for these decisions.

I need to do some writing. I've needed to do it since this morning. I'm avoiding it. On days like this I'm big on escapism. I work to avoid delving into the deeper parts of myself. Sometimes I'm afraid of what I'll find.

I'm bribing myself with chocolate to get the writing done. A ferrero rocher if I finish this blog post - the first piece of writing I need to get done. A kit-kat bar (my favorite) if I actually sit and do the other.

I think I'm also going to bake cookies tonight. My grandma's recipe. Chocolate chunk. So good.

Okay... that's it for now... my first piece of chocolate has now been earned!

after dreaming

It's strange to me sometimes, that early morning space, the moments when you have time to wake slowly, and pause and let the dreams from the night bleed into the daylight hours.

That happened this morning, and led me to pray. It also means that I need to find space later to write. There is something that feels deep and heavy on my heart after the dreams, that I need to write down.

so, until later...

Evening

My roommate and I went shopping tonight.

I got some photos printed at Blacks, and am currently attempting to upload more to their website for pickup tomorrow.

We picked out some ornaments and lights for the Christmas tree I bought at the thrift store today. In another week or two we'll decorate and set up the tree.

I bought a very cute top. Sort of hippy or "gypsy" to use my roommate's phrase.

My new qualifications for shopping for clothing involve having to love everything about the item from the first glance in the mirror. This one fit that qualification and then some. I'm excited to wear it soon.

And now, I'm sitting here, my roommate sprawled on one couch, and me on the other, and we're watching "Miss Potter". She's eating cheesecake, and I had chocolate cake with mocha frosting. I'm blogging and attempting to upload pictures for printing. All in all a good way to spend an evening after a day of feeling somewhat stir crazy.

quiet day

So, my mom was still sick, and we canceled our breakfast plans.

I went over, borrowed a car, and did errands instead.

Ikea - candles (my favorite tea lights were on sale!), a blanket, a cheese grater.

Thrift Store - bought a set of measuring spoons, and a Christmas tree for our house.

Dollar store - nothing very exciting - a few Christmas ornaments.

Bank - got cash.

Office Depot - photocopying for Sunday school tomorrow.

Then I headed back to my parents, picked my dad's brain to get his opinion on the work decision I'm trying to make, and he drove me home.

I think I'll go shopping tonight. I need some clothes for work, and some clothes for my trip to Malta.

And dinner, somewhere in there will be dinner.

Saturday

So, my plans for breakfast tomorrow morning may fall through. Mom called tonight to say that she's feeling quite ill.

In that case, I'm going to go over to their house and borrow a car for a while. I want to go to the park and take photos. I think I'll also go to Ikea, the thrift store, and maybe to Kensington. The idea of spending the day wandering some of my favorite parts of the city on my own with a camera sounds appealing at the moment.

Just at this moment I'm going a bit stir crazy, and feeling a bit lonely. While I planned (and plan to enjoy) a quiet weekend - at this moment I think I might lose my mind if I don't find someone to chat with - hard when you only live with one other person and she's out for the evening!

If I had a car right now, I'd drive to the edge of the city and stare at the sky. I think it's probably cloudy, but I feel like I need a break from the city - could use a chance to breathe.

From Two Years Ago

I was just looking through archives of my blog from two years back, skimming and reading, and came across this paragraph, written about two weeks after I was healed. I laughed, because the paragraph is so descriptive of the space of life I've been inhabiting again these last few months - this crazy Jesus space. I wrote:

"...The trouble is, I don't want to go back to the low point I was at just over two weeks ago. The last two weeks and a bit have been insane, but so good. I have known God's presence in ways I would never have expected, or even wanted, but I am tired. I don't want to go back - I'm loving this new place in my journey - loving that breakthroughs are finally happening, but boy is it tiring. I think I know why the ancient monks spent so many hours alone!" (you can find the original post in it's entirety here.)

Evening Plans

I'm considering taking myself on a date tonight. A date with myself. To a movie. I've been wanting a good solo movie experience for a while, and there are several films out right now that I would be interested in seeing...

So (and I'm still debating doing this tonight - I may push it to tomorrow night), these are the five movies (in no apparent order) on the list of ones I'd drop the appropriate amount of money to get a ticket to see...

1. Into the Wild
2. Dan in Real Life
3. August Rush
4. Across the Universe
5. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Has anyone out there seen any of these? Recommendations?

Free and Joyful

My facebook status today reads:

Lisa is feeling free and joyful.

And it's true. A nice change from some of the other days this week.

I taught a Bible study last night, and it went well. So much fun to talk about healing, wholeness, redemption and shalom with the kids who were sitting in my living room.

I'm wearing jeans today - I LOVE wearing jeans to work.

I'm in the midst of praying through a huge decision, and I've received helpful feedback from some friends that has in some ways released my heart to dream more fully and deeply. I think I know which way the decision will go (and it's not the way I would have initially guessed), though I still need to talk to a couple more people, and do a little more praying.

I'm loving the wandering directions my heart has been taking lately - so many things that God is stirring - hopes and plans - dreams and wishes.

I'm loving that I'm feeling free and able to dream again - that my heart is being stirred once more.

I wrote an email this morning that will hopefully lead to being approved by my church as a short-term missionary (allowing me to raise some financial support for my upcoming trip), and another email to schedule a time to share on a Sunday morning about my plans with the congregation.

Have I mentioned that in just over two months I'm going to Malta - for a month? To pray and facilitate a prayer room for others. To be with dear friends? So excited about this and the major step of freedom that it is.

I loved the brief moments when the sunrise painted the sky this morning as I walked to the train.

I'm thankful for the friends who remind me on a daily basis that I am never alone - that I journey with Jesus, and with a community of people (however scattered across the nation and the world) who love Jesus and love me.

I'm feeling free and joyful today, and I'm so thankful for that.

Quiet

I have plans for a quiet weekend. I'm open to that changing, but, for the moment, I'm looking forward to the quiet.

I think I'm going to have breakfast with my mom on Saturday, and then, I think I'm going to go to the park again, and maybe to my favorite tea shop to pick up a tin of a fruit-infusion tea (lemon-mango) that I love and I'm out of.

I'm going to read, and maybe watch a movie or two.

I'm going to prepare and teach a Sunday school lesson.

I'm going to pray for some friends who are gathering and planning.

I'm going to spend time praying through an upcoming major life decision.

I'm going to listen to music, and maybe do some writing.

I'm going to sip tea and take in the recycling.

I'm going to grocery shop and buy bottled water.

I might buy a Christmas tree at the thrift store and decorate it (though it's a bit early for that).

I'm going to start planning my Christmas shopping.

I'm going to enjoy the quiet.

(But first, one more day of work - casual clothes, though!)

Better Day

I think I slept 6 hours last night! (Which still only makes for 9 hours in the last two nights, but it's definitely better!) I actually slept through my alarm to such a point this morning that I had 10 minutes from the moment I woke up to the moment I needed to be out the door. (And I made it to work on time!)

The work day is now an hour from ending, and I'm getting tired again.

I lead a Bible study discussion group tonight, but I think I'm going to push the kids to actually engage with the chapter on their own, and give them a journaling exercise for at least a portion of our time together. Less discussing, more engaging I hope.

I need to send several emails tonight too.

I need to spend some more time praying through a major work/school decision that is rather suddenly and urgently on my radar, but will affect the next few years of my life quite dramatically.

I need to just sit. (I'm going to watch Grey's Anatomy).

I'm glad that things were lighter today. I'm not sure I'd have made it through another day like yesterday.

I'm glad tomorrow is Friday, and that I can wear jeans to work.

I'm glad for a weekend with nothing planned (except sunday school teaching, and possibly a walk or tea with my mom on Saturday morning).

I'm glad there are leftovers in my fridge so I don't have to cook dinner tonight in the 40 minutes between when I get home and the Bible study starts. (I'm not often thankful for leftovers - take note of this moment - it may never be repeated!)

I'm glad for dreams (the waking kind today).

I'm glad for friends who love me, and made a point of telling me that yesterday when I was struggling so deeply.

I'm glad for really honest prayer times, alone, in the dark, with candles and incense.

I'm glad that I'm not ever as alone as I sometimes feel.

A Variety from Henri Nouwen

More great thoughts from Henri Nouwen...

Heart As Wide As the World

The awareness of being part of the communion of saints makes our hearts as wide as the world. The love with which we love is not just our love; it is the love of Jesus and his saints living in us. When the Spirit of Jesus lives in our hearts, all who have lived their lives in that Spirit live there too. Our parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents; our teachers and their teachers; our pastors and their pastors; our spiritual guides and theirs - all the holy men and women who form that long line of love through history - are part of our hearts, where the Spirit of Jesus chooses to dwell.

The communion of saints is not just a network of connections between people. It is first and foremost the community of our hearts.

The Fruit of Our Communal Life

Our society encourages individualism. We are constantly made to believe that everything we think, say, or do, is our personal accomplishment, deserving individual attention. But as people who belong to the communion of saints, we know that anything of spiritual value is not the result of individual accomplishment but the fruit of a communal life.

Whatever we know about God and God's love; whatever we know about Jesus - his life, death, and resurrection - whatever we know about the Church and its ministry, is not the invention of our minds asking for an award. It is the knowledge that has come to us through the ages from the people of Israel and the prophets, from Jesus and the saints, and from all who have played roles in the formation of our hearts. True spiritual knowledge belongs to the communion of saints.

Embracing the Universe

Living a spiritual life makes our little, fearful hearts as wide as the universe, because the Spirit of Jesus dwelling within us embraces the whole of creation. Jesus is the Word, through whom the universe has been created. As Paul says: "In him were created all things in heaven and on earth: everything visible and everything invisible - all things were created through him and for him - in him all things hold together" (Collosians 1:16-17). Therefore when Jesus lives within us through his Spirit, our hearts embrace not only all people but all of creation. Love casts out all fear and gathers in all that belongs to God.

Prayer, which is breathing with the Spirit of Jesus, leads us to this immense knowledge.

tears

Could use the release of crying tonight.

I envy people for whom tears come easily. People who can go off by themselves and simply cry. I could use that tonight.

I'm tired, and struggling, and don't want to repeat last night's lack of sleep... but I'm not having a lot of luck releasing the emotions and processing tonight...

here's to hoping for a deep sleep, and for release to come...

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...

Encouraging

I know it's only 9:30 am, but I am having a difficult day. That could be because of some stuff I carried into the night with me last night - ultimately meaning I probably only slept for two or three of the six or so hours I lay there with my lights out. I say probably because much of that night was spent in the inbetween place of waking and dreaming - flashes of images, people, ideas.

I forced myself out of bed, feeling exhausted, and ill. My muscles tense, my head aching, my stomach rebelling yet again against my very existence. Tears are burning behind my eyes. Tears of frustration and exhaustion and confusion and fear. I sent a quick note to a friend I'd been talking with last night - to tell her that I'd slept poorly, that I was hoping for the grace and strength to make it through the day.

I headed out into the cold morning. It's that time of year when it's beginning to be dark when I leave home in the morning, and it's dark once again by the time I return in the evening. Jason Upton's "Trusting the Angels" album playing on my ipod, and I'm clinging to the song "Not Alone" - desperately needing to hear it's truth.

Got to work and found a response from the friend I'd sent the note to. Tears in my eyes again. I needed to hear the words she said this morning. They eased the aching loneliness of my heart just a little. I wrote back thanking her, and telling her that I'd just been thinking that I could use a hug, but was certain that if someone actually gave me one I'd shatter into a million pieces.

Made tea and Caught up on my blog reading. Faye has a new post up. A beautifully written piece. Her writing reminds me of Anne Lamott sometimes - rambling and deep. She mentioned me briefly - a moment we had together on the weekend. And it encouraged my heart again.

Thanks, Jesus, for friends who love me. Thanks for words spoken and prayed over the lives of others. Thanks for going with me. Thanks for passion tea, and that Wednesday (however miserable) means there are only a few days left before the weekend.

Shifting

I went to the park this morning. Not because, as has been the case so many times in the past, I had something urgent on my mind and heart - something desperately requiring time to walk and process, but simply because, quite unexpectedly, over the past year and a half, this park, situated in the midst of a busy city, has become a thin space in my life. It is a place I go to hang out with Jesus - and yes, I make the trip more often when there is something urgent or heavy on my heart, but sometimes, like today, I go to simply enjoy his presence.

For an hour or so I walked and took photos. Pausing to enjoy the warm wind brushing against my face, and recognizing that this may very well be one of the last tolerably warm days of late fall. Each thing of beauty that caught my eye, I photographed - and there were many this morning.

It was a grey day, yet again, but I am finding something beautiful in cloudy moments these days. I was reminded as I walked of a time about 6 years ago, when I was working at a young life camp on the west coast, and the sun hadn't emerged for nearly two weeks, and the clouds hung stunningly low on the mountains, nearly touching the ocean. At that time I read every scripture I could find about clouds and was struck by how often the clouds signified the presence of the Lord. There were moments, with the sun just peeking through the clouds that were so beautiful, and I was reminded again of the nearness of Jesus in this season of my life. And every so often, the sun would catch it just right, and in the corner of my eye, the jewel in my nose would sparkle, and I was reminded all over again of the great miracle of healing and freedom that was worked, and continues to be worked in my life.

Something has begun to shift in me yet again over this last week or so. For years I was convinced that if my heart was for the North American church, and the broken who hide within it's wall, my heart could not be for the world. I admit that for years I cringed every time someone used the terms "missions" or "mission trip". I had a strong and painful reaction to the trappings of religion that were so intertwined with terms like these. And it didn't help that my dad had been pressuring me for years to make such a trip with him, and I'd consistently chosen to disappoint him. When I finally went to Mexico just under two years ago, the most shocking thing to me was not the poverty, or the conditions - I was well read, and braced for what I would see - the most shocking thing was simply that I myself was there - that I had consented to make such a trip.


This is a photo from the 24/7 prayer weekend I just finished hosting. My Bible, and an article I was reading on aid in Darfur. I spent a significant chunk of time praying for the nations on Saturday - for Rwanda, Peru, Israel, Pakistan, Malta and others. For the people I love who have connections to these places. For my own travel plans which include Malta, Peru, and quite possibly Rwanda and Pakistan. For my dreams of traveling to some of these places with the friends whose hearts belong to them, and simply praying for the country, and for the friends who are giving such large pieces of themselves to those countries. For peace and freedom and healing to be rampant in these places - for Jesus to show up in real and beautiful ways.

I started reading the first ever book I've picked up on AIDS and Africa today. For years, I've avoided the topic in book form. I've told myself that I was aware, that I understood, at least a little. And I did. Thanks to the travels of family members and friends, there are names and faces attached to Africa, if not directly to AIDS. I mourned a few years back, when news came that the three year old daughter of a lovely couple my dad calls dear friends in West Africa had died from an entirely treatable and preventable disease - malaria. I watched the right movies, read the right magazine articles, listened to the right speeches, and rarely allowed any of the words to deeply penetrate my heart. I confess that my opposition to being aware of Africa had little to do with cultural norms or stigmas, and much to do with a need to separate myself from my father - to be an individual - and he has left his heart in West Africa on at least five separate trips. It had much to do with protecting myself - with a refusal to allow a greater level of hurt into my life. And so I did not allow myself to bond with the man who left his wife and daughters in Africa to live with my family for two years in order to gain a seminary education that would better allow him to minister in his homeland. And I turned a deaf ear whenever possible. I saw enough hurt in my daily life here, I reasoned, why let my heart be broken over things I could do little about, on a continent thousands of miles away?

I taught Sunday school yesterday morning - together my students and I worked our way through a lesson on Jesus clearing the temple courts. The lesson focused on the anger of Jesus - asking the question, "What would make Jesus angry today?" The girls in my class had no trouble listing things - two have recently been studying the concept of genocide, and talked at length about Rwanda, about starving children. And as we talked, I heard again that oft quoted prayer, "Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God." So today I picked up a book on Africa. I made it 11 pages before I had to put it down - before my brain simply wouldn't allow me to absorb the depths of what I was reading. Only 11 pages - but I will make it through the entire book - and then I will pick up another book, and another - asking friends for recommendations.

As I walked in the park this morning, I once again found myself praying for the nations. On my ipod, a song performed by Judy Jacobs was playing. Twice, as I was deep in prayer, lost in the lyrics of the song, I paused in my walk, and suddenly, a half dozen tiny chickadees were right around me - within arms reach, flying just above my head, bearing witness in a funny, creation sort of way to the things I was talking to Jesus about.

So, for today, I want to leave you with the lyrics to the song that drew me into prayer, and with a few more photos from my time in the park.

Hear the sound
The sound of the nations calling
Hear the sound
The sound of the fatherless crying
Who will go for us
Who will shout to the corners of the earth
That Christ is King

We speak to nations, be open
We speak to nations, fall on your knees
We speak to nations
The kingdom is coming near to you

We speak to strongholds, be broken
Powers of darkness, you have to flee
We speak to nations
The kingdom is coming near to you
We speak to you
Be free, be free

Hear the sound
The sound of the nations worshipping
Hear the sound
Of sons and daughters singing
We will go for you
We will shout to the corners of the earth
That Christ is King

Remembrance Day

Today is Remembrance Day. The day we proudly wear poppies and remember the sacrifices others made so that we can live in a country that's free.

Thoughts on the weekend coming late tonight or tomorrow. But until then, take a second to stop and be thankful for the sacrifices of others lives - no matter how you feel about war. They fought so that you and I can believe in diplomacy, pacificism, and never repeating the sins of the past.

Where I'm at...

I'm hosting a prayer room this weekend. I know I've mentioned that several times this week in passing, but I wanted to say it formally. If you're interested in coming and praying - do. Call me or email me or facebook me for my address and directions.

I'm excited about this. It's been a long time coming, and I'm delighted that a number of my youth kids have decided to come out and experience a different sort of atmosphere and attempt to meet God creatively. I'm also delighted that many long time friends are planning to come and spend time in my living room, talking with Jesus. Others have written to tell me that they're praying from their homes in different parts of the province and country.

I've felt apprehensive about this all week, but as the time has gone on, I've begun to know the nearness of Christ, and my excitement has grown while my fears (at least for the moment) have waned.

I just emailed a dear friend, sharing what's been on my heart today for the evening, and for the weekend, and liked the way those thoughts came out so much that I thought I'd put them here as well...

I think my heart is simply to be with all of these different people I love, and invite them to come before Jesus in my living room. I would love it if all that happened for me this weekend was that I had dozens of opportunities to pray for and with the youth kids, and for and with the friends who've been walking out life with me for varying periods of time. I want to pray for Pakistan with my best friend, and for the streets of Calgary with another friend who spends her friday evenings serving the homeless and broken. I want to pray for peace over the life of a friend who's struggling, and for breakthroughs in the lives of some of my youth. I want to curl up in a blanket in front of the map of the world I hung on the wall last night, with the fact sheets I compiled from the BBC (but haven't really read yet!) about Peru and Rwanda and Malta, and pray for forthcoming journeys and for the friends whose hearts belong to those nations. Basically, I'm praying for that light - those flames I saw as I prayed through my house a couple months ago to really ignite in the lives of the people I love.

I already know Jesus is with me this weekend - in a way that I haven't known his presence for a while. So close - I wonder what the eyes of a child would see if they looked at me today - the way children see so much more than the rest of us - I sense His presence so intimately and my heart is already full - seems natural to think that I'm going home from work to invite others into this space. Today I'm peaceful, and the fears are at rest, and I can't quite keep the smile from my lips. He walks with me and loves me, and I am not alone - He goes with me, and so do many friends.

one week today

my nose itches. a lot. I just felt the need to share that with you. one week ago today I paid someone to poke a hole in it with a needle, and fill the hole with a jewel. it looks very cute (and by all accounts natural!)

(I'm in a strangely buoyant, joyful, funny mood - can you tell?)

Whispers

The last 24 hours have been full of whispers – little things, blowing by my face, and sending tingles down my spine.

A deep awareness of Jesus keeping company with me.

Here are some snippets from the day…

I’m really thankful right now for the women in my life. I never thought I’d say that. Mostly, though I love hanging out with my girlfriends, when it comes to the intellectual and spiritual conversations I’ve really been interested in, they haven’t happened very often with women. (Perhaps because in the world I grew up in, the sphere of the women was almost always primarily the home and children – and while I know the importance of that, I haven’t wanted or needed to occupy that sphere to this point in my life). When it comes to words that have challenged or encouraged me through the years to go deeper with the Lord, they have generally come from men. That has slowly begun to shift in the last while. At the end of September, I sat on the floor of a friend’s home in the mountains with two other dear friends as we prayed and talked about the restoration/redemption (can’t remember the exact words we used) of the feminine. Another friend – a guy – joined us and prayed that very thing over the three of us sitting close together on the floor.

I’ve been sick all week, and yesterday was no exception. I found myself asking if I would really have the strength and energy to follow through on hosting people in my home for 24 hours of prayer this weekend, when I’d hardly eaten or slept all week. Over the course of the day yesterday, I received unexpected emails from two separate friends – women in two other towns near Calgary, who spoke words to me that deeply encouraged my soul. Another friend on the other side of the country (with whom I chat pretty much daily) also wrote to remind me of some truths, and to tell me she was praying with and for me. I’m thankful for these three beautiful women that Jesus has brought into my life. I’m thankful for their words of encouragement in the moments when I felt so low. I’m thankful for the joy and smiles they bring to face and to my heart.

Kirk wrote a blog post yesterday that sent shivers down my spine and whispers past my ears. You can find it here.

Two of the youth girls from church came over last night to help me transform my living room into a prayer space for the weekend. Amid much laughter we covered two walls of my house in paper, and established various prayer stations around the room. You can come and curl up with a blanket on my couch, a book, and a bible. You can come and paint. You can come and write your prayers on my walls (and the back of my bookcase, and across the tops of my dining room table, coffee table, and end tables). You can come and sip tea and coffee, or take communion alone or with friends. There is a large space with a map of the world, and fact sheets on 15 or so different countries that our church, or myself, or my friends have connections to – you can come and pray for the nations. You can plop yourself down on throw cushions stationed around the room and just be. You can light candles or incense. You can play worship music on the stereo, and dance if you so desire. (I’ve taken pictures – I’ll probably put some before and after ones up at some point this weekend). I had such fun with these two young women, watching them work together to paper the walls while I worked on other projects. Listening to their crazy jokes, and laughing at the way they interacted with each other. And tonight, I’m looking forward to praying for and with each one of them.

I went to bed, and slept, though not well. But here’s the thing – I woke something like five times in the six hours between when I turned out my lights and when my alarm went off, and I had some dreams in between (I’ve been dreaming all week again) and yet, I wasn’t disturbed, or fearful the way I would usually be. Each time I woke, I knew the presence of Jesus, and talked with him – asking his presence and mercies for each person who crosses my doorstep over this weekend of prayer, asking for his strength as I go about the days. He was there, holding me, and I was aware of it, and in the midst of it I was aware so deeply of what a blessing that really is.

And now, as I sit at my desk and realize that I should probably stop blogging and get to work (slow day – I can actually afford the time to clear my thoughts before I dig into the work stuff today), I am still so deeply aware of the presence of Jesus. And I’m thankful for the friends around the province and country who have written to tell me that they’re joining with us in prayer this weekend from a distance, and for the friends who have written to tell me that they’re going to come and fill an hour or two in my house over the next days.

See you around!

I Saw What I Saw

Watched this tonight. It reminds me of a dear friend - I hear her heart in the lyrics Sara Groves sings. (And really, if you don't know Sara's music, you need to check it out...)

Refrain

For months now, there's been a one line refrain playing through my head as I go through the days. A prayer of sorts, with music, though I can't place the song as one I've heard anywhere but in my head. (If you recognize it, do tell me, would you please?) I've never said anything about the fact that I've had the same line playing through my head for months - I've just treasured the prayer that it is in my heart, as the cry of my heart to the Lord... Today, though, it's bursting out of me.

"Abba, Father, let me be yours and yours alone."

The Communion of Saints - Henri Nouwen

I feel like this has been a morning full of whispers, and I'm quite sure that I will be sitting down to write later today sometime... in the meantime, I have yet another bit from Henri Nouwen for your enjoyment.

The Communion of Saints

We often limit the Church to the organisation of people who identify themselves clearly as its members. But the Church as all people belonging to Christ, as that body of witnesses who reveal the living Christ, reaches far beyond the boundaries of any human institution. As Jesus himself said: The Spirit "blows where it pleases" (John 3:8). The Spirit of Jesus can touch hearts wherever it wants; it is not restrained by any human limits.

There is a communion of saints witnessing to the risen Christ that reaches to the far ends of the world and even farther. It embraces people from long ago and far away. It is that immense community of men and women who through words and deeds have proclaimed and are proclaiming the Lordship of Jesus.

Because I Need it Today...

Things I love/am thankful for/that are making me smile - the November 7, 2007 edition!

• Weather that's not absolutely freezing cold right now.


• That this coming Monday is a holiday for me.


• That plans for hosting a prayer room in my house this weekend are taking shape.


• That my brother's surgery last week went quite well and the surgeon is hopeful that he will again be able to use his wrist and play guitar.


• Starbucks passion tea


• Moxie's Cuban Chocolate Espresso Mousse shared with Janneka last night - just as completely deadly as it sounds!


• Janneka


• A chance to see my parents tonight


• my nose piercing (which seems to be healing well) that reminds me of the miracles Jesus has worked in my life every time I glance in the mirror (or wrinkle my nose!)


• a heavy duvet on my bed


• sweat pants for comfort when you're sleeping or not feeling well


• casual Fridays


• A Wednesday that seems a little less all over the place than the last several Wednesdays have been


• my ipod that lets me have my entire musical library at my fingertips while at work


• emails from friends


• cute shoes


• that I seem to have lost some weight (even if it is probably from stress and illness)


• friends who are praying people


• a decent working relationship with my boss


• an upcoming chance to do some traveling


• Psalm 3, Psalm 91, Ephesians 6


• green beans


• blackberries


• smoked gouda


• potatoes cooked almost any way possible


• a warm sweater to wear in my cool office


• dreams


• friends who push me into new spaces


• mountains


• a beautiful sunset driving home from work on Monday night


• that I don't have to take public transit on Friday because my roommate will be out of town and has offered me the use of her car


• An upcoming Saturday in the mountains with a friend


• facebook - for the communication it lets me have with friends spread across the country and around the world


• a new camera


• a functioning new cell phone that I'm finally getting used to


• a phone call from Alex last night, excited about the upcoming weekend


• that the atmosphere in my office is calmer today


• people that have a heart for the non-western world


• people that have a heart for the western world


• the color blue


• candles


• nag champa incense


• artists and the way they see and share the world with us


• an office full of plants to add life


• bottled water

Health and well-being

I am feeling quite ill again today. Nausea. Stiff, tight muscles, headache.

It seems that this has been happening a lot in the last few months since my life once again shifted into an intense season of change and growth.

If the pants I'm wearing for work today are any indication, I've once again lost weight. They're sliding down my hips, and they used to be tight. The weight loss (though I have been trying to eat more healthily and exercise more regularly) can probably be attributed to the number of days I've felt like I do today - little or no appetite, generally smaller meals, and eating less often.

I can't get sick this week. I don't have time to be sick this week. I have a meeting tonight, prep for an event I'm hosting this weekend tomorrow night, and then, 24 hours of prayer in my living room, with youth kids and friends, from Friday night at 7 pm to Saturday night at 7 pm. (By the way, if you're interested in coming to pray (and I'd love to have you!), either look me up on facebook - I've created an event - or email me lpippus (at) telus (dot) net)

I wonder a bit about the way the spiritual affects illness. It certainly affects my mind and body in other ways, does that mean it can make me ill as well?

But I have to say, in spite of the illness I've battled the last several months, in spite of the illness I'm battling today, I've never been in a better space. I am living in a place of intense closeness to the Father, and to His people. I am being called daily to deeper and new things. I am overwhelmed, shocked, and completely grateful for this latest hijacking of my life. I may have health problems - but I am living in a space of well-being.

Another bit from Henri Nouwen

I got this great bit this morning from the Henri Nouwen society, and am once again passing it along to you. (In case you wonder why I put all of these up on the blog, it's mostly for me - I can store them somewhere where they won't be lost if they're on the blog, but if they're in my work email, they clog the box, and are hopelessly hard to wade through. I just hope you enjoy them as much as I do!)

Telling the Story of Jesus

The Church is called to announce the Good News of Jesus to all people and all nations. Besides the many works of mercy by which the Church must make Jesus' love visible, it must also joyfully announce the great mystery of God's salvation through the life, suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The story of Jesus is to be proclaimed and celebrated. Some will hear and rejoice, some will remain indifferent, some will become hostile. The story of Jesus will not always be accepted, but it must be told.

We who know the story and try to live it out, have the joyful task of telling it to others. When our words rise from hearts full of love and gratitude, they will bear fruit, whether we can see this or not.

Ticking Bomb Atmosphere

Can I just say that today I'm the person who has the job you're all thankful that you don't have?

The atmosphere around my office has been weird for the last several months, sometimes spiraling out of control. I've written about that before.

Some stuff happened at a major meeting over the weekend that has once again stirred things in our building. This time they've managed to involve a separate company on the floor below us.

Emotions are running high, and there is tension in the air.

I'm sitting right in the middle of it.

AND, I'd also like to ask when I became the person to whom the office staff air their grievances with each other, and with people from other organizations?

I was talking with the girl who had this job before me (a friend, and the reason I now have the job). She described my job as being like a "bartender." It's an accurate description. I even have an elbow level counter the whole way around my desk, for people to lean on as they air their problems.

It's fine in small doses, but, in the midst of everything else, I'm not loving it.

And besides - I've been so sensitive to the spiritual atmosphere in places and people lately that I'm usually picking up on (and occasionally experiencing as my own without immediately realizing it) all their really negative emotions long before they ever start speaking.

Don't get me wrong - I actually like my job, my coworkers most days, but this week, today, I'm tired, and I don't really want to be sitting here in the midst of this explosive atmosphere.

Tuesday morning ramblings

In the last day, I've had blog visitors from locations scattered across Canada and the United States, Spain, Romania, Argentina, Japan and Indonesia. That's quite the international mix!

In October I had the highest number of visitors to this blog since it began. Thanks to all of you who stop by on a regular basis to see what I'm thinking about. Leave me a comment sometime and tell me who you are!

City transit made me twenty minutes late for work this morning. It took me an hour and 40 minutes to get in. And I even got to the train station a few minutes earlier than usual.

Faye has a brilliant post here. I've occupied the spaces she's talking about, and she speaks of her struggles with eloquence and grace and depth that I rarely found in the midst of those spaces. Faye doesn't post often, but when she does, her posts nearly always leave me breathless.

And with that, I'm back to work...

A Ministry of Healing and Reconciliation - Henri Nouwen

A Ministry of Healing and Reconciliation (Henri Nouwen)

How does the Church witness to Christ in the world? First and foremost by giving visibility to Jesus' love for the poor and the weak. In a world so hungry for healing, forgiveness, reconciliation, and most of all unconditional love, the Church must alleviate that hunger through its ministry. Wherever we feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the lonely, listen to those who are rejected, and bring unity and peace to those who are divided, we proclaim the living Christ, whether we speak about him or not.

It is important that whatever we do and wherever we go, we remain in the Name of Jesus, who sent us. Outside his Name our ministry will lose its divine energy.

Monday (again)

It’s Monday again.

I’m listening to U2. “…sometimes you can’t make it on your own…” Feeling the deep truths in those words this morning.

I’m chewing gum – trident mint in the dark blue package.

(little known fact – I can’t stand mint flavor in anything except gum and toothpaste.)

My nose is itchy. They say that means that it is beginning to heal.

The itchy nose is stretching my self-discipline. The guy who pierced it lectured me about how our fingers and hands are very dirty – teeming with bacteria and so forth. “Don’t touch the piercing – that’s how you get infections!” So I’m sitting her, crinkling my nose every so often, hoping to relieve the occasional itches in that fashion.

The day after I got the piercing, I crawled out of my sleeping bag at the friend’s house I was staying at, and stumble groggily across the hall to use the bathroom. As I looked in the mirror, I wondered, “What is that thing on my face?” And then it all came back to me.

(another little known fact – because of my extremely weird vision – nearsighted in one eye and far sighted in the other – a lazy eye and astigmatism – I can see my nose at all times in the corner of my line of vision. I can now see a tiny sparkling object in my nose at all times – thus making the nose piercing the perfect constant reminder of the redemption and healing of Jesus that I’ve received).

There’s a weird atmosphere going on in the building again today. Apparently an important meeting over the weekend went poorly, lots of airing of old grudges, lots of infighting. I heard the description and thought “This is why Christians have a bad reputation. Two perfectly respectable organizations, founded on Biblical principles, doing good works both here and abroad, and there is ridiculous infighting and bearing of grudges.” There’s a lot of hurt and anger in the air today. I’m glad I wasn’t at the meeting. It’s hard to bear just the results.

A good friend is moving back to Calgary. I’m glad. Tea dates are much easier to have when you live in the same province and city.

Plans are taking shape for at least a month abroad early in the new year.

U2 is playing because I once again feel as if I’m fighting through something. U2 makes me feel as if I might just make it to the other side of the fight.

I need to get back to a routine of stretching, breathing, lighting candles and incense and slowing down.

I need to sit with a journal and sort out some thoughts, feelings, prayers from the weekend.

I need to go to the store where I purchased my camera last week and get the price adjusted.

I need to arrange a phone call with a dear friend sometime this week.

I need to sit with my budget, and figure out how long exactly I can afford to spend abroad in the new year while still covering the rent at my home here.

I need to do some prep work for hosting 24 hours of prayer in my living room this coming weekend.

I need to remember to breathe.