I Liked This

Claudia Mair Burney, who is one of my favorite novelists, and one of my favorite bloggers, put up a post today about the first Sunday of Advent (which is today if you don't keep track of these things). I loved the post, and thought I'd send you all to read it too.

Its Welfare Will Determine Your Welfare...

I've been slowly working my way through the book of Jeremiah for several weeks now, taking my time, reading a little each day, and letting myself be captured by bits and pieces of the words spoken within it.

Today I was lying in a bath, reading, and found myself captured by the following verse:

"And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for its welfare will determine your welfare." (Jeremiah 29:7, NLT)

I find myself particularly caught by that last line, "Pray to the Lord for its welfare will determine your welfare."

I was born and raised in the city in which I presently live, so I can by no means claim that I am living in exile. However, at times through the last year especially, it has very much felt like a sort of exile. Isolation. Loneliness. Distance from friends. A less than stellar work situation. Tension with my family, with some friends, and occasionally with my roommates.

I can't say I've spent a lot of time pausing, thanking the Lord for this space in life. For this city. For all of the myriad of things that have made me cranky and discontent at times. I definitely haven't paused to pray for this space I'm occupying, this "city".

And yet, today, as I was reading, I was caught deeply by the idea that the welfare of this place I occupy has a great deal of impact on my own welfare. Not just the literal city, province and country in which I live, but the many things that make up the space in which I live. The house, the relationships, the family and friends and roommates and work mates. The job, and all that goes with it. I am convicted today of a need to perhaps pray differently. To pray for the welfare of all these things, because, in varying measures, my own welfare is determined by them. I suppose that I understood that in some ways, but today, thanks to Jeremiah, I am understanding it more deeply, and it is causing my heart to pause, and pray.

Sunday Smile List

I need to pause for a moment and make a smile list. I've been fighting off a shift in mood - from relatively peaceful to whatever the opposite of that is since yesterday morning, and I need to pause, just for a minute and remember the things that I'm thankful for today. The things that are making me smile.

• Bolthouse Farms Mango Lemonande
• watching the baby gorilla play at the zoo this morning
• Warm Amber Body Butter from the Body Shop (scented with ginger and myrrh)
• Warm Amber Home Fragrance Oil from the Body Shop (again, scented with ginger and myrrh)
  
• Hot pancakes for lunch, slathered in butter and maple syrup
• The West Wing on dvd
• a dream that was at the same time deeply disturbing and strangely comforting yesterday morning
• an ongoing conversation
• the way my nose ring sparkles in the light and reminds me that I can celebrate the healing of Jesus in my life
• my friend Karla Adolphe's latest CD "Chair and Microphone"
• tea lights
• a day spent mostly with my roommates yesterday, without the tension that has often been present lately.
• a favorite t-shirt that reads "Little Acorns Become Mighty Oaks"
• a ring on my left hand with a blue-lace agate stone, that reminds me of some promises made, and the search for just the right ring to be purchased in the future.
• a relatively sunny, mild Sunday.
• enjoying being curled up alone in my living room, with the house quiet and peaceful.

And with that, I'm going to spend some time reading and writing. Probably most of the afternoon. And I'm hopefully going to enjoy it.

Headlines...

A few headlines catching my attention today...

Crash Shatters Alberta Family. I'm pretty sure I'll arrive at my office on Monday and discover that they are quite connected to our company.

Riots Kill Hundreds in Nigeria

Blasts Hit Thai Government House

Court Orders Iranian Man Blinded

Saturday Morning - Curled Up Thoughts

I'm curled up in bed still, wrapped in my robe, and buried under blankets.

I'm oddly reflective, after waking from a beautiful, disturbing, profoundly moving dream.

I went to my brother's Christmas concert last night, and actually enjoyed the music (after years of working in retail, I have a hard time enjoying Christmas music.)

I ran into a dear friend there, and we made tentative plans to get together again soon. It was wonderful to see her face and get a hug from her.

Her husband asked me where I was going to church these days. I told him that his wife and I had just been talking about that, and that I, like them, was somewhat in transition church-wise. He asked me if I wanted to come to their Spanish church. I said yes. He asked if I speak Spanish. I said no. His response made me laugh. "That's okay, it'll just all sound like crazy tongues to you then."

I wore a string of pearls to the concert. A gift from a dear friend, and heavy with reminders of her love. I felt so loved with them around my neck.

I'm laying here in bed, wrapped in my robe, and buried under blankets.

I'm surveying the shelves and shelves of books around my bedroom.

My books are like old friends. They bring comfort. I don't have many plans for today, so I think I'll spend the day with my old friends. Curled up (probably in a chair instead of bed) and reading and writing and thinking and praying.

I may put up my Christmas tree.

My roommates and I are thinking about cooking a nice dinner tonight. The plan was to make roast chicken. Except roasting chickens are expensive apparently. We can buy 2.5 pre-cooked rotisserie chickens for the same price as one uncooked roasting chicken. But we might buy the roasting chicken anyway. It'd be nice to cook it ourselves, with all the trimmings.

Which means I need to make a trip to a grocery store.

And I think I'll visit the library and borrow some cookbooks too. I could use some new inspiration for cooking. And the idea of curling up with pages and pages of scrumptious recipes for a while this afternoon appeals to me.

Happy Saturday!

Waiting, and the Body

More thoughts from Henri Nouwen. Eventually I'll write something of my own, but I'm busy thinking and praying and processing and waiting. Sorting things out in my own heart before I broadcast them to the world. In the meantime, enjoy the words of Henri!

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.

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.

Thursday

I have a general like of Thursdays.

They're typically busy, but not out of control at work.

They mean the weekend is nearly here.

They bring Grey's Anatomy (though tonight was a disappointing re-run due to American Thanksgiving).

Today was a good Thursday for the above reasons as well as:

• grocery shopping
• a yummy home-cooked dinner. Alfredo sauce with peas and bacon chunks in it, over bow-tie pasta.
• french-braided hair after a nice, hot shower (hot showers of more than two minutes being something I'm still grateful for after my trip to Malta early in the year)
  
• reading Jeremiah in the car, while waiting to pick my roommate up after work
• a fun conversation with a friend at work that made me laugh and laugh
• dried apple slices
• bottled water
• rose scented hand-cream
• tea lights
• being curled up in bed by 9pm, reading and writing and emailing

Okay. A bit of reading and such left to do, and then I'm going to bed - hopefully a bit early.

And, for you Americans, Happy Thanksgiving! I didn't get to celebrate, but it's fun to lay claim as a dual citizen to a second thanksgiving holiday.

You Don't Hear This One Very Often

I'm reading in Jeremiah these days, and came across a verse tonight that I find incredibly powerful. It's not one I've often (or ever) heard quoted, but one that I feel is rather important. It falls in the middle of a passage where the Lord is speaking of his disgust for the false prophets that have arisen in Israel, but seems to speak a bit more broadly (maybe just to me??) as well.

Jeremiah 23:35-36
You should keep asking each other, 'What is the Lord's answer?' or 'What is the Lord saying?' But stop using this phrase, 'prophecy from the Lord.' For people are using it to give authority to their own ideas, turning upside down the words of our God, the living God, the Lord of Heaven's Armies.

When to speak?

I'm having trouble today processing whether or not I need to give voice to certain things I've been thinking and praying about for the last day or two. Things seen and heard and understood.

I'm having broader trouble lately, struggling with questions I want to ask, and wondering whether or not to give them voice either.

Some of the topics are sensitive. They have the potential to create backlash - to stir things up that should perhaps be left undisturbed. And I'm not one to knowingly invite unneccessary backlash. I'll settle for a lack of understanding instead. I'm a big fan of safe, and calm, unless the direction is very clear to stir things.

Plus, I've been the unwitting victim at times when other people have walked without care, and created a maelstorm for those around them to be caught in. It makes me hesitate to create my own maelstorm.

And yet, I'm not sure the questions would create a stir. And I'm not certain how to gain understanding and experience without asking the questions. But, to be honest, I'm not even sure how to phrase the questions, as the topics are new and uncertain ones for me as well.

And for those things that have been seen and heard and understood, while I am very certain of what has been seen and heard, I'm less certain of the understanding, and the response that must flow out of understanding. And yet, I lack confidence in my own discernment, to speak these things beyond myself.

Oh bother. This cryptic phrasing of real issues doesn't work very well for me. I think I'll stop writing now.

A Question for the Red Letter Christian Types

I went to hear Tony Campolo speak last night. As usual, he was enjoyable, engaging, and talked passionately about issues that I care passionately about.

This time he spoke about a group of people I've heard of - the "Red-Letter Christians", which, best as I can tell, is a group of believers who think it's important to take the things Jesus said seriously, particularly in regards to issues of social justice, the environment, poverty, and so forth.

Dr. Campolo spoke very convincingly of the need to care about all of these topics (though I admit that I was not particularly hard to convince).

And yet, as we walked away, I wondered how the following question would be answered:

Much is made by those who espouse the words of Christ of the need to work to eradicate poverty and injustice, causes which are obviously of the utmost importance. However, I wonder what one who says it's an achievable goal to eliminate poverty does with another statement of Jesus', "the poor will always be among you." What is the balance between working to eliminate poverty and injustice based on the words of Christ, while recognizing that this is not an achievable goal, based also on the words of Christ?

I'm all for eliminating poverty and spreading the Kingdom of God, but just once, I'd like to hear an articulate poverty activist, a "red-letter christian" address this other passage. It's just not one that seems to come up. And I just can't buy the idea that I can take seriously some words of Jesus and not others.

So, I'm opening it up - anyone want to take this question on? Anyone want to engage this one a little bit? I'd like to hear some opinions, however varied they may be.

Intellectual Stimulation

I went to a speech/lecture given by Dr. Tony Campolo at a local university college tonight. I've heard him speak a number of times, and read a few of his books, but always enjoy the chance to hear him again.

What I'd forgotten about myself is that I absolutely love the academic world. I love writing papers and discussing ideas. I want to know how the pieces fit together, and what a wide variety of people think about a topic. I want to discuss an idea passionately, ask lots of questions about it, and maybe even have an argument about it.

Evenings like that are so often creative stimulation for me. I feel alive in those moments. My thoughts are stirring, even now, with the many possibilities for writing projects from the ideas and questions bouncing around my head.

I needed an evening like this today. After a rough few days, I needed to laugh and think and be challenged in my views. I needed to evaluate why I agreed, and why I disagreed with various points being made. I needed to use my brain a little. I needed to do something that made me feel like celebrating the fact that I'm alive.

I almost stayed home in exhaustion and disgust with myself. I'm so glad that I didn't. Those moments of feeling alive are a gift that remains somewhat rare (though becoming more common than they were in the past), and each and every one is a gift to be grateful for, and a gift worth celebrating.

Tears

I liked the quote that Sally had about tears on her blog today. You can find it here.

I want to have nice words...

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

I don't even have nice words for me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The good news in the midst of all this?

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

So.

On with the day.

On with the conversations that may or may not happen.

On with the crazyness of my office in renewal season.

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

On with trying to find joy.

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

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

On with the day.

On with choosing life.

What Unhappy People Do

I found this article rather fascinating. I've been watching less and less television the last while, and am actually thinking of canceling my cable, as the three shows a week I like to watch are all available free online.

Stranger than Fiction

I'm curled up on my couch, crocheting a scarf and watching a favorite movie.

It's a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon. Eventually I'll go out and get some groceries and likely settle down with a book, but for now, I'm settled in with the story of Harold Krick.

Have you seen the movie "Stranger than Fiction"? If you haven't, you need to. It's absolutely fantastic in every way. So funny and hopeful and redemptive. And lines that make me laugh and laugh, delivered in such a deadpan way.

One of my favorites?

"Dramatic Irony. It'll f**k you every time." (Dustin Hoffman's character)

Looking Back...

A few posts of mine from earlier in the year that are catching at me today, and in some ways bringing me hope...

Lessons in the Midst of Darkness

Reasons to Keep Going

Suicide...

I received an email today reminding me that it is "National Survivors of Suicide Day" in the US. Now, before you start laughing at that ridiculous title, they're referring to those who have survived the loss of a loved one to suicide.

Various suicide related headlines have been catching my attention the last few days. I linked yesterday to a headline about a Florida teen who killed himself while broadcasting live on the internet, and just a few minutes ago I came across a similar headline from Argentina.

You can find the Argentinian story here: Argentine Man Kills Himself on TV

and you can find a few links with more information about National Survivors of Suicide Day here:
Community Connects Suicide-Minded, Survivors

10th Annual National Survivors of Suicide Day

Saturday Morning Frustrations

I woke from a dream again this morning. This one was more of a working out of ongoing frustrations with my current living situation, and was thankfully in some ways less intense than many of the crazy spiritual dreams I've been having on such a regular basis lately.

However, it was still very real, and left me frustrated and angry and working to separate actual reality from that which I'd dreamt.

So, I decided to take out the frustrations in the most positive way I could think of, and I've spent the morning cooking and cleaning. Our kitchen floor (which had been, to use one of my roommate's words, very "grubby") is now immaculate. The kitchen counters have been scrubbed and tidied. The clean dishes have been put away, and the dirty dishes are in the dishwasher, which is now running. I baked scones (or maybe they're biscuits - my terminology for baking has become hopelessly confused after months of living with two New Zealanders who have a different word for every sort of baking.) The living room has been tidied, and so has my bedroom. The bathroom has been cleaned, and I've done a load of laundry.

This afternoon I'm going to visit my parents for a bit, get gas for George, and probably settle in for a while with a Bible, book and journal and just read. I'm attending a church service tonight, and then possibly going out afterwards for a bit to spend some time with my youngest brother. The plan for tomorrow is rest, and maybe a few errands.

But, all that cleaning has at least resulted in a somewhat improved mood from that which I woke in, and the ability to laugh a bit at life again. Plus, my house looks greatly improved.

Headlines - morning edition

Zimbabwe Refuses Annan Group Visa

Powerful Earthquake off Sumatra

Voices Heard - Friday Night Edition

Some thoughts that have been catching at my heart the last little while...

When it is genuine, when it is born of the need to speak, no one can stop the human voice. When denied a mouth, it speaks with the hands or the eyes, or the pores, or anything at all. Because every single one of us has something to say to the others, something that deserves to be celebrated or forgiven by others.

- Eduardo Galeano,
The Book of Embraces

Peace is not the product of terror or fear.
Peace is not the silence of cemeteries.
Peace is not the silent result of violent repression.
Peace is the generous,
tranquil contribution of all
to the good of all.
Peace is dynamism.
Peace is generosity.
It is right and it is duty.

- Archbishop Oscar Romero

The November 20, Daily Text from the Moravians:

"The Lord is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him."
Lamentations 3:24

Through Christ you have come to trust in God, who raised him from the
dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are set on God. 1
Peter 1:21

We turn our eyes on you, Christ. By faith we look into your face and
receive blessings found nowhere else. But we are sometimes distracted by
the waves around us as Peter was. When we look away, take us by the hand
and lift us. Amen.

Today's Daily Text from the Moravians:

Be still, and know that I am God! Psalm 46:10

Jesus prayed, "Righteous Father, these know that you have sent me. I
made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love
with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them." John
17:25,26

Heavenly Father, we long to know you fully, but we will never understand
all that you are. We rejoice that there will never be an end to our
discoveries about your glory and power. In this moment, we wait before
you - touch us, we pray. Amen.

Headlines

A few headlines catching my attention tonight...

Florida Teen Commits Suicide Live on the Web

Cholera Outbreak Strikes Zimbabwe

False Comfort

This has been an odd sort of week.

Things went haywire at work, and on a personal level I've occupied some intense spaces once again.

I'm thinking a lot about idols - what are they for me, and for those I love, and how can they be torn down.

I'm back in a space of fasting and praying. I don't understand why I'm fasting, but I know that I've been asked to fast.

I've been listening to Jason Upton's "Dying Star" album again lately, and as I drove this morning it was speaking deeply to my heart again, summing up themes of the week.

I was particularly caught by this line from the song "Burning in the Sky":

Sometimes to trust in your false comfort
Is easier than trusting me...

Over and over and over again I'm encountering this theme of tearing things down, of laying everything down before the Lord.

Trust is not something I'm particularly good at. And this has definitely been a week where the Lord has been calling me to trust him in new and far deeper ways. It's so much easier to cling to what I know, than to trust him with what I don't.

And yet, I keep coming back to the many verses of scripture I've encountered lately that speak of obedience - obedience as far better than sacrifice.

And so, I'm working to trust him, and not my false comfort.

Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

Waiting With Patience - Henri Nouwen

Another great thought from Henri Nouwen...

Waiting with Patience

How do we wait for God? We wait with patience. But patience does not mean passivity. Waiting patiently is not like waiting for the bus to come, the rain to stop, or the sun to rise. It is an active waiting in which we live the present moment to the full in order to find there the signs of the One we are waiting for.

The word patience comes from the Latin verb patior which means "to suffer." Waiting patiently is suffering through the present moment, tasting it to the full, and letting the seeds that are sown in the ground on which we stand grow into strong plants. Waiting patiently always means paying attention to what is happening right before our eyes and seeing there the first rays of God's glorious coming.

Headline

Herod's Tomb Possibly Found

It Comes in Spurts

Spurts of insane busyness.

Spurts of activity around my desk.

Spurts of calm.

Spurts of hunger.

Spurts of thirst.

Spurts of understanding.

Spurts of confusion.

Spurts of anger.

Spurts of joy.

Spurts of peace.

Spurts of inspiration.

Spurts of motivation.

Today, life comes in spurts.

Survived

Today was a bit surreal at work.

The fallout from yesterday, and the settling out.

At this point everyone is still employed. No one has been fired. No one has quit.

There's still lots of potential for problems and explosions.

And tomorrow we officially enter into our busiest season of the year.

Nothing like over busy stress to keep things calm.

But hey, I survived another day. And right now, I'm grateful to have a job. Even this job.

More Henri

A few more thoughts on various topics from Henri Nouwen...

Unity in the Heart of God

Love unites all, whether created or uncreated. The heart of God, the heart of all creation, and our own hearts become one in love. That's what all the great mystics have been trying to tell us through the ages. Benedict, Francis, Hildegard of Bingen, Hadewijch of Brabant, Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Dag Hammarskjˆld, Thomas Merton, and many others, all in their own ways and their own languages, have witnessed to the unifying power of the divine love. All of them, however, spoke with a knowledge that came to them not through intellectual arguments but through contemplative prayer. The Spirit of Jesus allowed them to see the heart of God, the heart of the universe, and their own hearts as one. It is in the heart of God that we can come to the full realisation of the unity of all that is, created and uncreated.

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.

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.

Feisty!

I had an absolutely insane day today.

I can't even begin to explain everything that went on today.

Office politics that usually simmer semi-calmly beneath the surface became entirely explosive. Explosive is always unique to be caught in the midst of when you're talking about pacifists like Mennonites.

No less than three people were in tears today.

Someone actually stomped out of a meeting, slammed a door, and left for the day.

And despite my incredible sensitivity to the atmosphere of a place and the emotions of others, I somehow managed to walk away from this day feeling feisty!

It's actually kind of a miracle. I started today feeling incredibly ill, and in a fair amount of pain, and fully expected, given the low energy levels that I've had for months, to barely survive the day, then come home, and collapse into bed. Instead, I walked away with the need to blow off a bit of steam (I ranted to a few friends), but feeling upbeat, and able to focus and concentrate and enter and enjoy the evening rather than collapsing into bed in exhaustion.

Of course, I did engage in "shoe therapy" on the way home and buy myself a pair of winter boots. But still, in the midst of the crazy storms of my day, I feel deeply shielded, and peaceful, and for that I'm so incredibly grateful.

Tomorrow will likely be wild as well. There will be repercussions from today, and the possibility for more fireworks. But I'll figure that out tomorrow. For tonight, I'm going to curl up with my Bible, journal, and a book and hang out with Jesus. (and maybe play a computer game for a bit too...)

I Liked This

I've written often about Renee Altson's book, "Stumbling Toward Faith" and the profound and encouraging impact that it's had on me at various points in my journey these last few years. It still ranks as one of my all-time top books to recommend.

Renee has a great blog, which I also link to, and I was deeply moved by the post she put up today.

You can find the post here.

Curled up...

I am curled up in a chair in the corner of my bedroom, trying to be cozy, and ignore the snow and cold outside my window.

I'm munching on honey roasted peanuts, and mandarin oranges.

I'm wrapped in a favorite blanket.

I'm falling in love with children's movies again. (They seem to be some of the few that I can watch safely these days, without worrying about nightmares, dreams, or other odd effects.) I've watched two in the last day or so. "Kung Fu Panda," which made me laugh and laugh (I do love Jack Black!), and "Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium" which reawakens a child-like delight and sense of joy and wonder in me each and every time I watch it.

I'm wearing a favorite sweater. An over-sized, chunky, cable knit wool sweater, roughly the color of oatmeal, stolen years ago from my dad's wardrobe. A purchase straight from Ireland, a souvenir of a summer he spent back packing around Europe in the late seventies. It's a comfort item really, and always the sweater I reach for first on chilly weekend days, to pair with jeans, a blanket, my favorite chair, and a good book.

There are hymns playing in the background, solo piano arrangements of long-time favorites. No voices, just the piano, bringing life to the words that resonate in my heart from early childhood.

I've scattered lit candles around my bedroom. Something like 11 of them. My bedroom is in the back corner of our house, and has two outside walls, and as such can be a bit drafty at times. The candles cut the chill, and add light and and atmosphere to my space.

There is a hint of lavender in the air (from one of the candles), and a scent of incense (I've burnt a bit of one of my favorites at intervals through the afternoon.

I've spent the afternoon with the book of Jeremiah, captured at moments by the words of the "weeping prophet." Words that are stirring my heart, and causing my fingers to move a pen across the pages of my journal.

My heart, for the moment at least, is quiet. And so, I leave you with these words from Jeremiah...

This is what the Lord says:
"Don't let the wise boast in their wisdom,
or the powerful boast in their power,
or the rich boast in their riches.
But those who wish to boast
should boast in this alone:
that they truly know me and understand that I am the Lord
who demonstrates unfailing love
and who brings justice and righteousness to the earth,
and that I delight in these things.
I, the Lord, have spoken!"
(Jeremiah 9:23-24 NLT)

Unless a grain of wheat...

I took this photo in my favorite park this morning. I've been taking a lot of photos of grass and wheat like plants lately. The phrase "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies..." has been running through my head with a great deal of frequency recently.

I've been dreading the coming of winter in many ways this year. More than just the usual ways. I've dreaded more than the colder weather, or the snow. I've dreaded the season of death, and dormancy. Of cold and waiting and wondering and watching.

Last winter was long, and very marked by pain, and, as this winter has drawn nearer, I've found myself fighting against it, wondering whether or not I would be able to survive such a season again.

"unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies..." Over and over, on repeat in my head. Grass and wheat capturing my attention each time I venture to the park with my camera.

I long for my life to be one marked by growth, by newness, by the things of spring. I long for it to be fruitful.

"unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it cannot bear fruit."

May my life be one that is fruitful, even if the coming of fruit must first be marked with death.

First Snow

This is what the park looked like this morning.

Saturday Morning

I'm sitting at my kitchen table, eating toaster waffles for a late breakfast.

(sidenote: Every time I hear the word "waffles" or think of eating them, I hear that line of Donkey's from first Shrek movie in my head, "And in the morning I'm makin' waffles!")

My parents are out of town this weekend, which means that I need to head to their house about 3-4 times a day to feed the family dog, and let him outside for a few minutes.

I slept a bit for a change last night. I haven't been sleeping much lately, and I've had even fewer nights without odd and disturbing dreams, so a night with some sleep (I think I only woke about 3 times) and no disturbing dreams is a blessing that should be noted.

Upon waking, I lazed for nearly an hour in bed, before dressing in favorite, comfy but cute weekend clothes, and heading for mom and dad's. I fed the dog, and headed for my favorite park to walk for a bit.

This was a good morning for the park. Not yet too cold to really enjoy a walk. And the animals were out. I saw a doe making her way up from the creek, where she'd been drinking. And a young buck eating in the midst of the trees. The chickadees were dancing and playing in the trees and bushes, and I felt blessed by the quiet and the peace and the beauty of the natural realm.

A quick stop to get gas for George, another quick stop at mom and dad's to let the dog outside, and I made my way to Ikea. They had my favorite tea-lights on sale for nearly half price. So, I bought 400 of them!

Then home, and waffles.

In a little while I'll head out to drive my roommate to work, and then I'll head to a used clothing store on a quest for a dressier winter jacket, and maybe some pants for work.

I'll do some sewing this afternoon, and likely attend a church service tonight. Somewhere in there I may take the recycling to the bottle depot to claim my refund, and buy groceries. Somewhere in there I will definitely be back at mom and dad's to feed and let the dog out. I may even work on a creative project that popped into my head last night as I was resting on th couch.

It's the sort of day I like best. Relaxed, yet productive. Very few plans set in stone, but lots of things to anticipate. I'm feeling like myself again, after a day and a half of wrestling with God and life.

Happy Saturday!

Decisions that Define Us

A dear friend sent this to me a little while ago. She knows me well. (And it's probably a good thing that she didn't send it any earlier in the day today - this has not been a banner day for me.)

It's been the sort of day where I had to make decisions again. Decisions to choose life. To choose Christ. To choose joy. To choose peace. To choose hope.

I made those decisions, and then got an email from my friend with a link to this video. I'll be watching it often, I think. I needed to hear the things it speaks.

And a few more...

A few more headlines that have caught my attention as the day has gone on...

Jim Jones' Followers Enthralled by his Skills as a Speaker

Obama's Senate Role Creates Odd Overlap

Suspect in French Synagogue Bombing Arrested in Canada

Sixth Severed Foot Washes up on BC Shore (updated from yesterday)

Headlines Again

I know I've posted a lot of headlines again lately, but there have been stories that have been catching my attention for various reasons lately, moving my heart, or challenging me.

Here are three more:

Suspicious Package Left Outside Bank of Canada

Doctors Say Marrow Transplant May Have Cured AIDS

Hannah's Choice: Saying No to a New Heart

Heart as Wide as the World

Another great thought on the communion of saints 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.

I Needed This...

I had the kind of day where the office server went down, rendering nearly everyone unable to complete important work, and grouchy because of it. The kind of day when I sat in a staff meeting and listened to our general manager try to paint a rosy picture of a particular event in the life of our company, and essentially deceive our staff. The kind of day where I began to have odd physical symptoms just after lunch, and spent the afternoon fighting off dizzyness and longing for the end of the day.

I've had the kind of day that has left me in need of a reminder of things that make me smile.

Things like:

• cuddling with my favorite kids in the world yesterday, while they showed me their "baby books" and told me all about the photos of themselves that the books contained.
• a "perfect" moment of stillness standing beside Lake Minnewanka yesterday
• mango body scrub from the Body Shop
• a quiet evening at home with plans to write and read
• curling up in favorite sweats and wrapping myself in a soft blanket
• comfort food for supper
• a long conversation with a dear friend
• a video of herself that my best friend recently posted on facebook from the other side of the world
• email that allows for nearly instant communication with scattered family and friends
• bath products (especially bubble bars and bath bombs) from LUSH
• candles
• a rose-scented bedroom thanks to an oil burner and oils

In Memory of Jesus and the Saints

another great thought from Henri Nouwen...

In Memory of Jesus and the Saints

Belonging to the communion of saints means being connected with all people transformed by the Spirit of Jesus. This connection is deep and intimate. Those who have lived as brothers and sisters of Jesus continue to live within us, even though they have died, just as Jesus continues to live within us, even though he has died.

We live our lives in memory of Jesus and the saints, and this memory is a real presence. Jesus and his saints are part of our most intimate and spiritual knowledge of God. They inspire us, guide us, encourage us, and give us hope. They are the source of our constant transformation. Yes, we carry them in our bodies and thus keep them alive for all with whom we live and work.

Headlines (Wednesday Edition)

Some headlines that are causing me to pray again...

American Shot Dead in Pakistan

Teen Girls Burned with Acid in Kandahar

Sixth Foot Washes up on BC Shore

He Calls My Name (Revisited)

A week or so ago I wrote about Jesus calling me by name. Today, I stood, just for a few minutes, near a place that has become rather special to me, and, just in that moment, as I surveyed the scene pictured above, He called me again. He called my name, and whispered that He loved me. And it was a precious moment indeed.

Remember

Tomorrow is Remembrance Day.

I watched this video tonight, and was struck by it. I'm not normally a big fan of Don Cherry, but was quite moved as I watched the faces of the Canadian soldiers who've died this year play across the screen.

(the video you want is the November 8th edition of Coach's Corner.)

29 Years

Today is my parent's 29th wedding anniversary. 29 years ago today they got married in the midst of some nasty winter blizzarding weather in a church in Oshkosh, Wisconsin. (Did you know tha Oshkosh is a place and not just a kid's clothing brand name?)

In a world where so many of my friend's parents aren't together any more, and where, as our peers have started marrying and having children, my brothers and I have already seen the first of friends have marriages end, I'm incredibly grateful for parents who have stayed together for nearly 30 years through good and bad times. I'm grateful for what they've modeled for my brothers and I. I'm grateful for little things, like dad putting in his daytimer once a month for years now to bring mom flowers, and mom still buying his favorite little treats and leaving them on his pillow every now and then.

So, here's to my mom and dad, and many more years!

Monday Headlines

Probe into Poland WWII PM Death

"Mama Africa"

The Communion of Saints - Henri Nouwen

more thoughts from Henri Nouwen...

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.

The Saints Who Live Short Lives

As we see so many people die at a young age, through wars, starvation, AIDS, street violence, and physical and emotional neglect, we often wonder what the value of their short lives is. It seems that their journeys have been cut off before they could reach any of their goals, realise any of their dreams, or accomplish any of their tasks. But, short as their lives may have been, they belong to that immense communion of saints, from all times and all places, who stand around the throne of the Lamb dressed in white robes proclaiming the victory of the crucified Christ (see Revelation 7:9).

The story of the innocent children murdered by King Herod in his attempt to destroy Jesus (see Matthew 2:13-18), reminds us that saintliness is not just for those who lived long and hardworking lives. These children, and many who died young, are as much witnesses to Jesus as those who accomplished heroic deeds.

Saints, People Like Us

Through baptism we become part of a family much larger than our biological family. It is a family of people "set apart" by God to be light in the darkness. These set-apart people are called saints. Although we tend to think about saints as holy and pious, and picture them with halos above their heads and ecstatic gazes, true saints are much more accessible. They are men and women like us, who live ordinary lives and struggle with ordinary problems. What makes them saints is their clear and unwavering focus on God and God's people. Some of their lives may look quite different, but most of their lives are remarkably similar to our own.

The saints are our brothers and sisters, calling us to become like them.

Today (In Reverse)

Headlines again...

I'm thinking a lot about the anniversary of Kristallnacht (see yesterday's headline post) today.

But these headlines also caught my attention:

Senior Rwandan Official Arrested

Monks Brawl at Jerusalem Shrine

Headlines - Weekend Edition

Some news headlines catching my attention:

Germany Remembers Kristallnacht

CBC Reporter Freed in Afghanistan

Mbeki Blamed for 330,000 Deaths

Twenty Die on Russian Submarine

1500 (600)

This is my 1500th post on this blog, and my 600th post of the year. Since April 21, 2005, I have stopped in here to share what I am thinking 1500 times. Since January 1, 2008, I have stopped in here to share what I am thinking 600 times.

I feel like this is some sort of momentous occasion, and I should share with you deep, or happy, or witty thoughts, but really, I've got nothing. I just stopped in to tell you what I'm planning to do with my day, as I lay here in bed at 8:10 am, and think about the shape of the day ahead. If you want deep or happy, or witty, read the post below this, that I put up just before midnight last night. In the meantime, here are some of the things I'm going to do today:

• visit the library
• go to the bank (and just as a sidenote, it would be so much more convenient for those of us who work full time, and need to visit the bank to pay things like our utility bills, if the bank would be open more than just between 10:30 and 3:00 on Saturdays.)
• visit a mall on the other side of town, that I don't usually go to, because it has stores that are unique (LUSH, and the Apple Store, just for starters)
• take the 19 garbage bags of leaves that sit in the corner of my backyard to the city leaf and pumpkin composting drop spot.
• visit the bottle depot and the recycling depot
• cook or bake something yummy. Maybe cranberry poppyseed scones, the non-dairy, edible for me without a stomach ache kind.
• house cleaning
• actually sit in the chair I used to sit in all the time (but haven't hardly at all since moving to the new house in July) to think and read and pray, and do those things, and maybe some writing too, while sitting in said chair.
• shorten a pair of pants I bought a few months back, and sew a button on a pair of pants that's been missing it's button for months now, in order to have two perfectly functional pairs of pants for work.
• visit a fabric shop in search of just the right fabric for a project that I have in mind.
• Treat myself to a cup of tea from the coffee shop, instead of just making it myself at home, and perhaps to a walk in the park while sipping the cup of tea, or, at the very least, a nice break with a scone.
  

I think that might be it. I know there will be a myriad of other, little things that will crop up through the day, and I'm trying to notice the little things, too, but for now, those are the things that I've got planned. A satisfying, and yet not overwhelming list, that I'm sure will change and morph as the day progresses. Wishing you a satisfying but not overwhelming Saturday as well.

A Sense of Humor (Be Not Afraid of Winter)

Anyone who believes that God doesn't have a sense of humor (and a somewhat sarcastic and ironic one at that) needs only to spend a day or two in my shoes, and I truly believe that their mind will be changed.

Take today for example:

After a long day at work, full of the overlap of the many odds and ends encompassed by my job and the many odds and ends encompassed by my day to day life as one who seeks God and seems to meet him in the strangest of places, I headed out for an appointment for a massage.

Now, my massage therapist also happens to be my mother, and the building in which she has her office also happens to be the house in which I was raised. So, a massage appointment immediately following work encompasses not only a massage, but also dinner with my parents. Conversation with my parents is unpredictable at best, and one never knows when a question out of left field might blindside one, and leave one in predicament as to how to answer without either denying ones's self, or deeply offending one's loving, if not always fully understanding parents. Tonight, the topic of conversation was various American presidents, and was relatively free from the conversational landmines that so often occur.

A relaxing massage followed a stimulating dinner conversation, and I headed for home, in George, who is still being stubborn about starting when I ask him to.

Upon arriving home, I promptly began the process of avoiding that which I knew I needed to do. I am a master of avoidance, and, while lately I have been working at avoiding avoidance, tonight was not a banner night on that front. I settled into bed with a slice of chocolate mousse cake, my favorite cheese from Wisconsin (a gift from my parents after a recent trip to the land from which my mother hails), and a bottle of water. The plan, I told myself, was to watch one episode of a favorite (if somewhat trashy) television show online, before settling in with a book I am reading, and spending some time in prayer, sorting out the overlap from my day.

The reality is that I passed several hours in a sprawled, half-awake state, enriched by chocolate and my favorite cheese, watching several episodes of several favorite (if somewhat trashy) television shows, and ultimately avoiding any time spent either reading one of the two books currently on my plate, or praying and sorting out my day.

Just as I was ready to call it a night, and to fall asleep in a drifting, lazy sort of manner, an email from a certain friend arrived, a response to a piece of writing I'd sent her earlier in the day, which contained several quotations from the book I'd just spent my evening avoiding.

And this is where the fun begins.

She commented that she was "glad I was writing and enjoying the books on prayer" because it would "give us lots to talk about." Because confession is "good for the soul," and because she is the sort of friend who inspires full and complete honesty in me, I immediately confessed that I had actually spent the entire evening avoiding either writing, prayer, or reading about prayer, and that because of this I was in a slightly cranky mood, and was now going to sleep.

We traded several emails in quick succession, the result being that she (as is often the case) managed to tug me into a space that would not allow me to safely attempt sleep (being rather susceptible to nightmares and dreams of various sorts) without first spending some time reading and praying. Groaning, I said goodnight to her, propped myself back up in bed, and reached for the book I'd been avoiding.

I read the first few introductory pages of the chapter and began to laugh. Of course the chapter I'd been avoiding all night would deal with the idea of the seasons and rhythm of the liturgy, and how they relate to life.

I rose, headed for the kitchen to snag some mandarins from the box (the tiny, tentatively eaten bowl of stew from dinner at mom and dad's seemed distant, and the sugar high from the cake had begun to fade, leaving me hungry all over again), and headed back to my bedroom, curling up again with the book, and a pen.

You see, there is irony in it being a chapter about seasons, and particularly in it being a chapter that deals with the idea that darkness and winter and death are as much a part of the journey and rhythm of life as spring and life and light. I confessed a few weeks ago to the same friend with whom I traded emails tonight that this year I am dreading the coming of winter far more deeply and fearfully than usual. The last winter season in my life was unbearably long, immensely painful, and not one I'd care to repeat. Much from that season has seemed to still be outstanding, and unresolved, and as I've faced the inevitable signs of the coming of winter, I've felt my heart shudder within me and wonder if I would be able to survive another season of that nature and length. I've railed against it, and sought to make peace with it, and known that either way, it would appear, and I would once again have to walk through it. I have had conversations with a variety of friends, and prayed that this would be a gentle, mild winter season.

And yet, I found myself reading a chapter that so eloquently and simply spoke of the seasons of the year, and the seasons of the liturgical calendar, and the various ways in which they fit each other. And I chuckle again, in a bemused sort of way, at the God who lets me waste an entire evening avoiding Him, and then, when I am pushed and tugged into his presence by a dear friend, takes the time to make a point that speaks to something I'd struggled with for weeks, not to mention sought to avoid for an entire evening. I find myself grateful for a God who meets me like this, gently, and with laughter, erasing the remaining shame and questions that drove me to avoid Him in the first place. I am grateful for a God who time and time again sends the right message, in the moment I most need to hear it, even when I've worked to close my ears to His voice.

And events of this nature occur over and over again. I will say again what I said in the beginning of this post - if you do not believe that God has a sense of humor - one that is at times quite ironic and sarcastic - you need only to spend a week or so occupying my life, and your mind will be changed.

I leave you with just one of many quotes I marked in the chapter I read tonight:

"If I ask him [a priest friend of the author] to, he will remind me that I will not be left alone forever in the dark, that the circle will come around again, that there will be alleluias again. The truth is always this: If I will pay attention and be faithful, if I will live the seasons as they come, I will see some new thing that will be born, even in me, even if I cannot yet perceive it."
(Robert Benson, "Living Prayer," pg.65-66)

A Prayer From Shane Claiborne

I was at the Sojourners blog today, and came across this prayer.

A Prayer for a New President and a New America, written by Shane Claiborne. It moved me, so I thought I'd share.

The Core of Life of The Spirit

I am reading a brilliant book at the moment by a man named Robert Benson. The book is titled "Living Prayer" and, as I read a chapter last night, I found myself caught by the deep truths of what he was saying, and the ways in which those truths are speaking to my current experience of life.

He writes about the prayer that seems to universally accompany the Eucharistic service, regardless of denomination or creed, “On the night in which He was handed over to suffering and death, He took the bread and He gave thanks for it and He broke it and gave it,” and suggests that in this prayer is the core of the life of the Spirit – “taken, blessed, broken, shared.” (pg. 39)

He goes on to write:

It is the broken part that I do not care for very much. It is the broken part, however, that makes everything else about the Eucharist worth making over. The lesson is that Jesus of Nazareth – the most chosen and most blessed and most shared one of us all – was the most broken of us all.

The prayer of the Eucharist is the prayer that reminds us that if we are to be the Body of Christ, then we are to suffer the fate of Christ – we are to be broken that we might be shared…

…We too must be taken, blessed, broken, and shared. We must somehow stop offering ourselves in prayer and begin offering ourselves as prayer…

…But it is rare to hear anyone pray to be broken. We pretty much pray to be chosen and blessed and then press right on ahead to the part about being shared; that is where the glory would seem to be, and it is certainly what seems right for us chosen ones…

…I am convinced that there is a connection in there somewhere as to how little, it often seems, we are truly shared. We are not meant to be taken, blessed, and multiplied. We are meant to be taken, blessed, and broken. “It is not the religious act that makes the Christian,” wrote Bonhoeffer in his prison cell, “but participation in the sufferings of God in the secular life.”

It is our brokenness, perhaps even our willingness to be broken, that holds the key to whatever it is we have to share…

…Frederick Buechner once said, “To be a writer, one must be a good steward of their pain.” I think that is true as well for those who would pray. To be such a steward creates the possibility that others might be healed by your witness to such a thing, that others might see the mercies granted to you in your suffering as evidence of the compassion of God for those who are broken. This gift of our brokenness is often the only gift that we can give or receive with any real honesty and with any real hope and with any real power. We do not demonstrate our faith when we live in the light, we show our faith when we live in the dark.

To embrace one’s brokenness, whatever it looks like, whatever has caused it, carries within it the possibility that one might come to embrace one’s healing, and then that one might come to the next step: to embrace another and their brokenness and their possibility for being healed. To avoid one’s brokenness is to turn one’s back on the possibility that the Healer might be at work here, perhaps for you, perhaps for another. It is to turn one’s back on another, one for whom you just might be the Christ, one for whom you might, even if just for a moment, become the Body and Blood… (various pages, chapter 3, Living Prayer)

I don’t know, in fact, I couldn’t even begin to guess at what the purpose of the brokenness that I have experienced this year will be. I do know that Benson’s words resonate deeply within my soul as I think about the year I have experienced, and as I pray for the redeeming hand of God to be present amidst that.

It is the essential pattern of the Eucharist – taken, blessed, broken, and shared – and Benson is right. I don’t think any one of us would has as our first inclination to invite brokenness, but I pray that because of the brokenness I’ve experienced I will be shared, and healing and redemption will come.

Telling the Story of Jesus - Henri Nouwen

Another thought from Henri Nouwen

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.

Healing and Reconciliation

Another thought on the role of the church from Henri Nouwen.

A Ministry of Healing and Reconciliation

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.

Day of the Dead (All Saints Day)

I liked this blog post that I came across this morning. Check it out here.

He Calls My Name

A month or so ago, a friend asked me if I'd ever heard the Lord call me by name. At the time, I told him no. The next day I asked another friend who'd been present for the first conversation if it was odd that my gut reaction to his question had been "He doesn't call me Lisa." She commented that, no, it wasn't particularly strange.

He doesn't call me Lisa. Well, I suppose sometimes he does. But it's not the name he generally uses. There's another name. One that has been hard for me to come to terms with, but one that increasingly speaks many deep and lovely things to me.

And tonight, when I finally went to Him, after a day of wrestling, and avoiding, and wanting to get it all together before I came to Him, it was that name that he used. That name that He used to draw me into a space of making some choices to think differently. That name that He used to remind me that I am deeply loved. That name that He used to remind me of the incalculable grace offered to me.

He calls me by name. And I am His.

Such a precious truth.

Come Rescue Me

I’m having a hard morning.

The words to an old worship song are running through my head today, stirring bittersweet thoughts:

I cry out
for Your hand of mercy to heal me
I am weak
and I need your love to free me
O Lord
My Rock
My strength in weakness
Come rescue me, O Lord

I’m trying so hard to be okay. But I’m just not there today.

I’m tired. Exhausted really. I haven’t slept in 3 nights again. And I can deal with the nights when there’s a dream, or something going on, because at least then I have a reason for my exhaustion the next morning. But nights like last night, where I wake over and over again, when I know I’ve been dreaming, but nothing remains, and I’m unsettled, fearful, on edge, those nights are just a little bit hard to take. And there’s been a lot of those nights lately.

I miss the days when I could see a big picture. I’ve always been a big picture kind of girl. I love the details, but only when I can see the picture they form. These days I feel a bit like I’m drowning in fragments or puzzle pieces. Hundreds of them poking and niggling at me, needing to be acknowledged, but refusing to fall into any sort of orderly picture.

Most days, I’m coping pretty well. Most days I can manage to have deep joy in the midst of the confusion. But every once in a while (and today is one of those days) I have a day where everything inside me collapses. Where I want nothing so much as to sob my eyes out, and then head back to bed for the next eight hours (sometimes I sleep more restfully during the day than I do at night.) Where all the things left undone, all the places and relationships that still need healing begin to overwhelm the many places of my life, the many relationship and things that have already been healed. Where I feel incompetent, childish, and unclean. Where I wish for a hug and someone to hold me while I cry, and assure me that I’m still okay. And where my heart begins crying out for mercy and healing. For rescue.

And I cling to the rest of the words to the song…

You are my hope.
And Your promise never fails me.
And my desire is to follow You forever.

For You are good. For you are good.
For You are good to me.

The Mission of the Church

Another thought from Henri Nouwen...

The Mission of the Church

There are more people on this planet outside the Church than inside it. Millions have been baptised, millions have not. Millions participate in the celebration of the Lord's Supper, but millions do not.

The Church as the body of Christ, as Christ living in the world, has a larger task than to support, nurture, and guide its own members. It is also called to be a witness for the love of God made visible in Jesus. Before his death Jesus prayed for his followers, "As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world" (John 17:18). Part of the essence of being the Church is being a living witness for Christ in the world.

Headlines (and Election Day)

Today is election day in my other country. (For those who don't know, I hold dual citizenship in Canada and the United States, though I am currently only eligible to vote in Canadian elections.) I'm watching with the rest of the world for the outcome.

But, in the meantime, here are some other headlines that are catching my attention...

Rome Hosts Vatican-Muslim Summit

Stoning Victim "Begged for Mercy"

God, Politics and the Kennedy's

Earthquake Aid In Short Supply

Pakistan Child Wedding Halted

The Poverty of our Leaders - Henri Nouwen

Another thought from Henri Nouwen... I particularly like this one, having grown up within the culture of church leadership.

The Poverty of Our Leaders

There is a tendency to think about poverty, suffering, and pain as realities that happen primarily or even exclusively at the bottom of our Church. We seldom think of our leaders as poor. Still, there is great poverty, deep loneliness, painful isolation, real depression, and much emotional suffering at the top of our Church.

We need the courage to acknowledge the suffering of the leaders of our Church - its ministers, priests, bishops, and popes - and include them in this fellowship of the weak. When we are not distracted by the power, wealth, and success of those who offer leadership, we will soon discover their powerlessness, poverty, and failures and feel free to reach out to them with the same compassion we want to give to those at the bottom. In God's eyes there is no distance between bottom and top. There shouldn't be in our eyes either.

A fantastic beginning...

I've just started reading a book I suspect I'm going to love. It's titled simply, "Living Prayer," and is written by Robert Benson who wrote "Between the Dreaming and the Coming True" which I just recently finished reading, and absolutely loved.

This new book has a fantastic opening paragraph or so, just the way a book on prayer should start, I think. Or maybe I'm biased, because I too, tumbled unaware into a life that is increasingly shaped by prayer. A life in which the words "intercession" and "intercessor" are ones that I am struggling to become familiar (familial, really) with. A life in which everything seems to have changed.

Benson writes:

I did not mean for all of this to happen to me. Or any of it, for that matter. I am still astonished by it all, and still a little afraid of it, actually.

I only started out to put a little formal devotion into my life, a kind of crash course in organized prayer. At best, I had this vague notion of wanting to be a person whose first words in the morning were a prayer, a prayer that rose up in me as I rose up in bed. I am not even very certain where that notion came from. But since the day it entered my head, nothing in my life is the same. Everything has changed - utterly, completely, irrevocably.
(Living Prayer, pg. 2)

There are dozens of other gems in the first chapter alone, but, as I read those opening lines, I couldn't help but think, "this is how a book on prayer should start." Uncertainty, confusion, reluctance, astonishment, fear, and joy.

One of Those Days

This may be a slightly ranting post, but it's been "one of THOSE days".

George is still being a bit stubborn about getting started, which means every morning around 6:30 I pad out the front door in my pj's and slippers to make sure that this isn't going to be the day that he doesn't start, and I need to run around like a mad person to make it to the bus on time, to get to work on time.

I didn't sleep much last night either, though I was in bed at a decent hour. I woke up something like every 20-30 minutes for most of the night. And in between the waking, I had odd and pensive and somewhat gripping dreams.

Work was well... work. It was a Monday, and everyone is back in the office after a week of being on the road. Tensions are high because one department in particular has a number of major deadlines in the next two weeks, and they're desperately behind on every one of them. I spent a large chunk of my afternoon reading emails from one particularly trying manager. Emails that essentially regurgitated information that I'd given to him, only using longer words and less clear language than I'd used, and taking credit for telling me what I'd told him. (The words, justifiable homicide, plausible deniability, temporary insanity, and Napoleon Complex were floating around our office again.)

Traffic was worse than usual coming home.

And then, then I settled in to cook jambalaya, using my mom's recipe. I've been craving it for weeks, and was really looking forward to it. It's still cooking as we speak. Unfortunately, I also managed to slice my left forefinger quite nicely while chopping up sausage for the jambalaya. So, the jambalaya was temporarily delayed while I cleaned and bandaged my finger. (And typing is a little bit interesting with a bandaged forefinger.) Amusingly enough, my roommate was helping me chop some of the veggies, and she too, sliced her finger tonight.

It's been that kind of day.

So, the plan for the evening is quiet. Curling up with a book, maybe in the bath. Possibly doing a little writing or chatting on the phone with a friend. And hopefully no more crankyness inducing, blood-drawing events!

More from Henri on Church and Poverty

More challenging thoughts from Henri Nouwen...

Going to the Margins of the Church

Those who are marginal in the world are central in the Church, and that is how it is supposed to be! Thus we are called as members of the Church to keep going to the margins of our society. The homeless, the starving, parentless children, people with AIDS, our emotionally disturbed brothers and sisters - they require our first attention.

We can trust that when we reach out with all our energy to the margins of our society we will discover that petty disagreements, fruitless debates, and paralysing rivalries will recede and gradually vanish. The Church will always be renewed when our attention shifts from ourselves to those who need our care. The blessing of Jesus always comes to us through the poor. The most remarkable experience of those who work with the poor is that, in the end, the poor give more than they receive. They give food to us.

Who Are the Poor?

The poor are the center of the Church. But who are the poor? At first we might think of people who are not like us: people who live in slums, people who go to soup kitchens, people who sleep on the streets, people in prisons, mental hospitals, and nursing homes. But the poor can be very close. They can be in our own families, churches or workplaces. Even closer, the poor can be ourselves, who feel unloved, rejected, ignored, or abused.

It is precisely when we see and experience poverty - whether far away, close by, or in our own hearts - that we need to become the Church; that is hold hands as brothers and sisters, confess our own brokenness and need, forgive one another, heal one another's wounds, and gather around the table of Jesus for the breaking of the bread. Thus, as the poor we recognise Jesus, who became poor for us.

Becoming the Church of the Poor

When we claim our own poverty and connect our poverty with the poverty of our brothers and sisters, we become the Church of the poor, which is the Church of Jesus. Solidarity is essential for the Church of the poor . Both pain and joy must be shared. As one body we will experience deeply one another's agonies as well as one another's ecstasies. As Paul says: "If one part is hurt, all the parts share its pain. And if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy" (1 Corinthians 12:26).

Often we might prefer not to be part of the body because it makes us feel the pain of others so intensely. Every time we love others deeply we feel their pain deeply. However, joy is hidden in the pain. When we share the pain we also will share the joy.

Amazon Legs...

I bought new pj's tonight.

And when I got them home and put them on, I realized all over again just how short I really am.

I've rolled the pant legs up at least 4 inches, and they're still too long.

Apparently clothing designers think all women have the legs of an amazon.

Sigh.

5 foot 2 doesn't seem that small most of the time.

Up and Down

Funny how moods change, and how difficult it remains, after all these years, to cling to reality in the midst of that.

Yesterday my mood could only be described as buoyant.

Today, not so much.

Up and down.

And working to figure it all out in the midst of those ups and downs.

Things I've done today, in the midst of sorting out my mood:

• Talked for the first time since August with my best friend. We used Skype and talked for nearly an hour. It was great to see and hear her. (And that, at least, was good for my mood.)
• Changed the sheets on my bed to flannel ones. I'm tired of cold nights, and I've been resisting the coming of winter by trying not to acknowledge it, but it's not working anymore.
• Finished reading a novel. Probably the last one - of that genre at least - for quite a while.
• Eaten Mexican food leftovers from last night.
• Told myself that I would not self-medicate the low mood with chocolate.
• Self-medicated (just a little) with chocolate.
• Had an argument with God. Out loud. While driving. I'm sure I must have looked insane if anyone saw me.
• Wondered about escapism and if it can ever be a good thing.
  
• Stashed a bottle of alcohol in my sock drawer.
• Bought a bottle of Bailey's for a birthday gift for my roommate. (Oh, maybe this point should have come before the one about stashing alcohol in my sock drawer??)
• Gone shopping.
• Realized that shopping for pretty things for yourself actually requires you to be in the mood to recognize something, anything, as pretty.
• Played the "if it's there, then I'll buy it" game with God over a book purchase that I really didn't want to make.
• Bought a book that of course was there.
• Gone to the dollar store to buy a new lighter to feed my ongoing obsession with candles in my bedroom.
• Started assembling a list of all the non-fiction books I own that have only been partially read, or not at all read. I'm at 67 with at least a few shelves of books left to check over. That's a lot of books. Maybe not reading novels of a certain genre for a while won't be so bad?

Okay... I think that's it. Those are the big things I've done today. I'll do laundry in a while. And probably go with my roommates to a craft store to look at ideas for wedding invitations. Somewhere in there I'll cook dinner. I'll make a grocery list. I'll finish the "argument" with God. (He, by the way is an annoying argument partner, who just keeps repeating the same point, quietly and calmly. It's very deflating.) I'll make time to read one of the books on my list. And time to read scripture. And likely time to journal. And shower. And, let's be honest - whether or not it's still self-medicating a bad mood by the time I get to it, I will be eating a slice of the chocolate mousse anniversary cake that I bought myself yesterday.

Less Like Scars

I liked this lady. She was in a cemetery that I spent a bit of time in today, and the reminder on the memorial stone beneath her read "Simply to Thy Cross I Cling". A challenge that spoke to my heart. Her face spoke volumes to me as well... Such peace, such rest in clinging to the cross...

I'm listening as I write, to a song called "Less Like Scars" by Sara Groves. It's a song I've loved for a long while now, but some of the lyrics feel especially appropriate today as I celebrate three years of healing and joy and life. Especially this year, after the myriad of ups and downs. I thought I'd share a few of those lyrics with you, as a thank you to God, a prayer, a benediction of sorts as my anniversary draws to a close for another year.

It's been a hard year
But I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it's

Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character

Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars

Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come

And I need you
And I want you here
And I feel you

And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able

And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars

And more like
Character


----------------
Now playing: Sara Groves - Less Like Scars
via FoxyTunes

3 Years Depression Free

I'm just waking up, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet, but today is a special day.

Today I celebrate 3 years of healing. 3 years depression free. It's an anniversary that means a lot to me. Three years of life.

It's special to me, this year, that my anniversary falls on All Saints Day. A day to celebrate the lives of all the saints, known and unknown. This has been a year that has involved a journey so much closer to the Catholic church, a year in which I have encountered saints in many different ways, and it is special to me today to think of the "Great Cloud of Witnesses" that Hebrews mentions as I again celebrate the healing of Jesus in my life.

In some ways it seems even more special to celebrate this year. There have been thousands of moments in the last nine months or so where I've wondered if that moment of healing had slipped away. For months now I've wondered if I would make it to today, and still be able to say that I was "depression free". This has been a wild year, one where I've held onto my own sanity with an iron grip, and one where I've had to learn to simply let that grip relax and trust that Jesus healed me, and that the things he gives are irrevocable.

Today is a day I wouldn't be able to celebrate without the gift of several dear friends, most of whom live in other parts of the country or world, and can't be here to celebrate with me physically. And I need, for a minute or so, to acknowledge them. To say thank you.

To thank M. for nights of Grey's Anatomy and freezer cake. For time praying together, but mostly just for the laughter, and giving me a break from the intensity that threatened to overwhelm.

To thank my roommates L. and J. for putting up with the crazyness that life with me has embodied this year. To thank them for patience with mood swings, and months upon months of needing huge amounts of space. To thank them for knowing the little things like how much flowers and a note would mean when I returned home from yet another intense weekend last week.

To thank J., who was with me the night I was healed. Who invited me into the presence of God in a new way that night, and who has talked and prayed and listened and invited me into those spaces all over again through this crazy year.

And to thank S. for hugs and prayers. For lots of late night conversations and talking until the darkness began to recede a little again. For assuring me that God's gifts were irrevocable, and helping me learn to relax that iron grip and begin to trust. For speaking the things I needed to hear even when I didn't want to hear them. For holding me when the tears began to fall, and seeing the things I just couldn't see.

To thank all those others who are "family". The new friends that have come along the way.

You're all so special, and I need to say thank you for helping me make it to today.

I don't know how I'm going to celebrate just yet. I'm going to head out on my own for a while - likely to some favorite spots somewhere. There will be cake (of a chocolate variety) at some point. And there will be a Mexican dinner with my roommates tonight, and an Anne of Green Gables Marathon, to celebrate my anniversary and J's birthday.

I get to celebrate!

Three years depression free, baby!

Thanks Jesus.