Rough Start

I've been wide awake since 4:30 this morning.

A nightmare woke me.

A nightmare that has me thinking about the definition of "worst". 

Because I would tell you that this was the worst nightmare I've had in quite some time.

It wasn't the most violent, or even the darkest.

But it was the most personal, and invasive, and I'm feeling that this morning.

I was finally at a place where I could possibly begin to relax into sleep again, and my alarm went off.

And that's how I started my day.

So, I'm here.  Sitting at my desk.  Sipping a mug of passion tea.

And trying to regroup.

To not let the nightmare steal my day, the joys possible in this day.

And yet, I'm entirely cognizant that I believe dreams have significance, and this one was a doozy.

So I'm working on how to respond to that as well.

And, in some ways, I'm grieving.

I feel that with the loss of the car (it'll likely be sold by the middle of this week), I've been greatly cushioned.  In so many ways, I'm at peace.

But I'm grieving, too.  And angry.

If only my insurance company had quoted me correctly in the first place.

If only I wasn't losing a freedom that so helped in making the challenging situation at Grandma's more liveable.

So.

Thankful.

Last night I started back on the medication that controls some of the hormonal problems that so affect my mood.  I'd needed to be off it for a couple weeks.

Those weeks, when I could have used the support, just happened to be some really rough ones.

I'm back on it.  And I anticipate less of a low mood by later this week, as it builds in my system.

It's a hopeful thing.

And there is sun outside my office window.

And I have a mug of tea to sip.

And plans to have tea in my favorite tea shop with a friend this evening.

I'll get a hug out of that.

I got a caring email from a dear friend (thankful, too, for the iphone that let me send the email she was responding to while I was on the train.)

But it was a rough start.

And I'm praying my day doesn't stay the way it started.

I'm fighting for that.

Panicking Again

I had a rough night again.

It would seem that I'm a bit more nervous about this driving test than I realized, and that the panic I struggle with at times took advantage of that fact.

It's such a spiritual thing, an entity of sorts, this panic that comes on me, and for me, it tends these days to come when I'm not fully conscious. So, while I most certainly wasn't sleeping, I wasn't really awake either, and that's when the panic set in.

I spent the whole night worrying about something with a really simple solution. I was conscious enough to even be aware of the solution, but it wasn't until around 5 am that I was awake enough to realize what was going on around me and simply begin to take a little bit of authority and tell the panic it couldn't hang out with me. After that I got about 2 hours of disturbed sleep (it's been really hot here this week, and our apartment is brutally hot).

It frustrates me that this remains an issue, and that it can prey on me when I'm only semi-conscious and seem unable to combat it.

I'm thrilled that the ability to combat it has gotten much stronger when I'm awake, but finding the other incredibly disheartening at moments.

In the meantime, I spent the entire night panicked over something that can be sorted out with one (or two, depending on the results of the first one) phone call. So annoying.

Crying out for restoration

A dear friend of mine who posts to her blog very infrequently has posted twice in the last two days, and her words are eating at me. They're not directed at me. She is speaking her heart (and it is one that I love). But for my heart her words are carrying a strong message of conviction.

She spoke in her most recent post about some of the little things around her home, the reminders of deep moments and the promises that Jesus has made to her. I've been in her home, and seen those reminders. And while my own tendency to collect those things in my own home was already present, in the time I've known her, she has taught me much about collecting and marking the things the Lord has spoken. She has also given me several little gifts that mark things about our relationship (one that is deeply important to me) or things that she knows the Lord has been speaking to me.

From where I sit several of her gifts are visible. And several other items that are tied to deep moments we've shared can also be seen.

I cleaned my bedroom from top to bottom a few weeks back. In the midst of a day where the wrestle was strong, and I felt the need to simply silence all the voices, I cleaned. I reordered, reorganized, and generally removed chaos wherever I could. I cleaned the surfaces that are prayer "altars" of a sort in my bedroom, and the temptation was strong to remove many of the items sitting on them, to put them away in a box where they couldn't be visible reminders any longer. Where they couldn't sting.

Because right now the reminders sting. They speak of deep places that in some cases I'd rather forget. They call me to things I'm afraid of, and not always certain I want. They speak of what was, and what subsequently seems to have been shattered. There are a few items in particular that I would much rather have stored safely away in a box, than in plain sight, visible each time I rise to look in the mirror.

When I feel like this, I avoid those "altars" as much as possible. I don't light the candles that rest there, or anywhere else in my bedroom. I don't burn incense, or oil, because those fragrances, too, carry reminders. I don't look at the items on my window sill - some gifts from my friend, a stone from "my" spot in the mountains when I met Jesus there and twirled last summer, a heart shaped stone from Indonesia, some strings of shells from Hawaii, a container of rose petals from various special bouquets this last year, and some pieces of driftwood I gathered from a lake shore when I was there with friends last July. I try not to make eye contact with the photos that hang on the wall across from my bed, one of a lake, and one of a spot my heart has been called to visit.

And yet, I can't avoid them either. I have slept for several weeks now wrapped in two scarves, both symbols of prayer and reminders of deep things the Lord is speaking. I tried last night to lay down without wrapping myself in the scarves. I was peaceful, and felt I didn't need them. I couldn't do it. Within moments I was sitting up, and reaching for them, wrapping them around me before laying back down to sleep. I wear a few of those reminders on a daily basis - a ring, and a necklace and a bracelet, each speaking of different deep moments.

And I have felt the tug of all these things scattered around my space deeply.

My friend spoke in the writing she shared on her blog these last few days of finding her feet again, and returning to the promises spoken. Of believing and standing amidst these things.

And I have resented the reminders scattered around my space. Even the reminders I wear each day, or fall asleep wrapped in. I have resented the deep pull of Jesus on my heart and life. I have wanted nothing so badly as to be "normal". I have resented that so many of the deepest moments of this last year, so many of the things scattered around my room also speak of moments of deep pain and sorrow.

The photo of the place my heart longs to go speaks of a dream, and a calling of Jesus to me. It also speaks of a shattered dream. Of fear of traveling to pray with friends. Of a hesitancy and brokenness I don't know how to handle.

The railway spikes on one of the altars speak of a moment when I found family. I found the place in which I belonged, I fit. They also speak of the deep shattering that has taken place within that family in the last year. Of anger and frustration and pain. Of a year of tears and wondering and struggling.

There is a tiny gold camel from Pakistan. A gift from missionaries when I was a child, but also a reminder of a very dear friend who is serving the Lord in that country now. And a reminder of some painful words. Of moments when the direction the Lord is taking my life has been unseen, or judged because it is not understood. (And how can I expect someone else to understand that which I am hardly able to accept or comprehend?)

There are stones and wine corks. Goblets. A tiny rose pin. Three pure white candles. A stone cross handmade into a necklace. A cross from my graduation and a rosary hanging over another photo. Five stones with words etched in them. Bits of wax left from the advent candles I burned and prayed with. Scarves. Palm leaves and willow branches. A tiny oil lamp from Israel. A medal and a tassel from Rome. Coins. Two boxed baptism candles.

And I have been tempted at moments to pack each and every one of them away. To simply move on. To box up a season of my life, and shut it down. To declare something new and create a life out of it. To close off the deepest parts of myself because while they have held the deepest joy, they have also carried immeasurable sorrow. I am tempted to purge these things from my life.

But I can't. And I have resented that too. That in becoming more and more fully myself, I have encountered such shattering, such deep pain.

I have been tired and angry, and haven't known what to do with those feelings.

And reading my friend's words these last few days has caused much of this to surface within my own heart. In part because I love her heart. And in part because of an awareness of how far my own is at times from where I'd like it to be.

I read her words about finding her feet again, and I am glad, because I love her deeply and desire that for her. I also wrestle with jealousy, because in these moments where she is finding her footing, I have been feeling like I have lost what little hope and footing I had left.

Just over a year ago, in an impossibly deep moment, I confessed to the Lord and a friend that I could stand amidst the storms. That I could fight. That I had been hearing him say that to me, and ignoring it, because I didn't want to stand or fight. That I didn't want that to be part of my reality. I haven't regretted that confession, and yet, I have regretted it nearly every day of the year that has followed.

I am discovering that this journey with Jesus is highly confusing and full of paradox.

That joy and sorrow seem far closer together than I dreamed was possible.

My heart is being stretched and tugged and shattered and pierced.

I sat and listened to an African children's choir last week, and fought tears I didn't understand.

I look at the photo on my wall of a place that I know unequivocally that the Lord has asked me to visit. To go to, and pray, and speak some words of scripture, and I remember that same passage of scripture echoing in a hall where diplomats of the world have gathered. And I remember too the division in that moment. I look at it and remember that Jesus told me not to make that trip alone. To have companions for the journey. And I remember how many relationships have fallen to pieces since and because of the last trip where he asked me to travel and pray with friends.

I look at a ring on my finger - a placeholder until just the right ring presents itself, and I remember a moment of deep vows near a lake. And I remember too how quickly those statements of choice were tested.

I see the coin resting on the frame of my mirror and remember a dream I had and a moment to deep to be publicly shared. And I remember how quickly it too became a source of conflict and division

There are moments when I feel as if life has become a ridiculous sort of balancing act, and I wonder if that is healthy.

Abba, I confess that my heart has ached. That I have resented the reminders of the things you've done, and the promises you've spoken that are scattered around my space. That I've been angry that this life that you've offered me has been so marked by pain. I admit that I don't understand, and that that lack of understanding really bothers me. That I have been jealous of those who seem more able to find you in the midst of suffering or more able to find you without experiencing suffering. That I have wanted to have the benefits of knowing you deeply without drinking the cup of your suffering. That I have a hard time trusting you. That at times I am afraid of you. That though you have spoken often to me about joy, I seem to be unable to grasp what you mean by that. That I have hated people I deeply love. That I have harbored anger and unforgiveness. That I have been certain that you cannot be loving, because the life you have offered has been far too cruel for that. That I have hated the things you've said, and feared the things you've called me too. That there have been moments when I've created distance from you and others in an attempt to protect my heart, instead of believing that you will shield and protect it.

And so I ask for your forgiveness. And your voice and your presence and your help as I seek to walk differently. I ask for a heart that loves. A heart that is still willing to believe that you can and will change things that I believe are impossible. I ask for your healing, and your wholeness, recognizing that your definition of wholeness might just look a lot like my definition of shattered. I ask for more of the deep moments when my heart knows that it has met with you, and for you to remind me of those moments even when I'd rather forget and let my heart grow hard. Give me back a heart of flesh, in place of a heart of stone. Let me see you in the gift of a church candle from my roommate, and wine goblets waiting to be used. Let me see you in the scarves wrapped around me. Let me see you, and not the pain and bitterness and questions that so many of the reminders scattered around my bedroom have carried.

I love you. And I long to walk in step with you. (And I admit that I'm afraid of what that could mean.) Ease my fears with your comfort. Remind me of that first verse I memorized as a small child, to say aloud in the middle of the night to combat the nightmares, "when I am afraid, I will put my trust in you." Help me to trust. Help me to want to trust.

I love you. And I desire you.

I remember the vows I made to you. And I remain committed to them. Give me the strength and grace to walk those out.

Remind me that I chose this. That I committed to follow you, even if it meant drinking from the cup of suffering.

Pour out your blessings on those I have resented. Help me to walk daily in forgiveness towards them.

Work a miracle and once again draw together the things that have been impossibly broken.

Bring peace and restoration.

Bring an outpouring of hope and joy.

May it be enough comfort for me that I was where you asked, when you asked me to be, even if others were not. Help me to rest in that obedience. Help that to be enough, to be the thing I remember, not the brutally painful things.

Help me to see beauty instead of the ashes. To remember the deep image of the phoenix that night a few years back, sitting on the floor at epic, next to a friend, while Kirk preached. That was another week and another year that was marked by deep beauty and deep pain walking hand in hand. Help me to remember that so often the beauty came in the midst of the deepest destruction and pain. Help me to look for the beauty and not become focused on and mired in the destruction and pain.

You are good. It's a truth spoken by your word. Help my heart to trust and rest in that.

Bring freedom. Help me to see the places you have offered it, and to walk in it. Help me to be still in those places where I am still bound - to stop thrashing in order to be set free.

Provide in new ways for me.

Restore my health.

Show me the church community that you have for me.

I love you.

Abba, I belong to you. May your will be done in my life.

Amen.

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.

Up and Down Day

When I finally settled in to pray yesterday, it was a very good thing. For an hour and a half or so I paced my home, and had a conversation with Jesus. We talked about a lot of things - about dreams, about promises he's made, about the things I've been struggling with lately, about the many fronts on which I've been encountering opposition in the last several weeks. I walked away at rest - peaceful in the things He spoke to me.

It's a lot easier to rest in those things when you're not at that moment in the midst of the opposition. That's the lesson I began to learn today. Work was horrendous. By noon I was feeling equally exhausted to the way I had felt going into the weekend. I left for a few minutes to collect myself, and came back to discover an email from a very dear friend inviting me to dinner with her tonight since she was coming into the city. I think that email got me through the rest of the day - the promise of relief and enjoyment with a friend.

Time with Kari was relieving. We talked and she managed to encourage me, maybe without even trying. I went into the rest of my evening with restored peace and energy.

Funny how that goes, and how perspective can be so quickly gained and lost.

I'm working to learn to rest and live in the promises of protection that God has spoken to me both personally and through dear friends. This morning as I woke, the Lord gave me a picture of myself being clothed in a cloak, having it wrapped around my body, and then a hood pulled up over my head. The comparison that came to mind is the invisibility cloak from the Harry Potter stories. An ability to walk unseen in enemy territory. I think Kirk said something about that to me on the weekend. I went to work with that assurance, but quickly lost sight of it in the face of the opposition and tensions that have become commonplace there in the last few weeks.

So tomorrow, I'll try again. Again to rest in the promises of the armour of God, in the promise spoken to me from Genesis that He will be my shield and my reward, in the words of Psalm 91. I'll wrap the cloak of His protection around me and walk unseen in enemy territory - and this time I'll work to remember that though I can see and hear the enemy, I cannot be harmed, my peace cannot be snatched from me, the lies cannot affect me.

Guard Your Eyes

I keep hearing and feeling the phrase "guard your eyes" in the inner parts of me these last few days.

I received the following verse in an email on July 4th (Independence Day for my other nationality) this year. It's caught at me ever since...

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves. Psalm 126:5,6

Guard your eyes. Why the eyes, Lord? Not the soul? Not the heart? Why my eyes?

I have long been sensitive to visual imagery. I was joking with a friend who's an artist about it last night - the fact that I can't take in violent or dark imagery without paying a price. We laughed at the idea that if I was an artist, all my work would be flowers and rainbows and kittens and butterflies - pretty boring and unbalanced.

I can encounter the heavier things in word pictures. I can even paint those word pictures, but please don't ask me to attach visuals to them. Violence, in particular, gets me.

The classic example are the Lord of the Rings movies. I only ever saw the first one. I loved the books. I loved the redemption. I can't attach visuals to the things I read. I pay for it in lost sleep for weeks.

I am noticing that again this morning... slept poorly, with dreams tripping over themselves in their haste to disturb my sleep last night. Attributed, quite possibly, to the movie I saw with Tim last night (which I wrote about yesterday, and actually quite enjoyed...)

I noticed on the train this morning that I have also been particularly sensitive to things of great beauty lately. To mountains and forests. To the city skyline on a sunny day, set against the backdrop of clouds and mountains. To simple flowers as I walk in the park. To the innocence of babies. To the growth of roots on the plant slips that are being started on my desk. To the hearts of friends. To the tears running down my brother's face as he took in images of a poor orphan girl, setting up her place to sleep for the night on the streets in India.

Guard your eyes. Not sure where this going, but I'm being pulled ever deeper...

A Fierce Day

There are deep things going on around me in the last few days. I don't understand a lot of them, but I know they're important.

I'm learning about the things that are mine, and the things that aren't as I pray. I'm learning about how not to absorb them.

I almost never have a sense of the spiritual dynamics of a room or a location. I can typically sense stuff going on with specific people, but rarely in a room.

Today, I knew there was stuff going on in the room.

This is so rare for me that I emailed a friend I'd talked about this kind of stuff with, to get some advice on how to handle it.

I left my office for a very specific ten minute period at lunch today. I had planned to eat with a coworker, and begged her grace for ten minutes. I needed a break from the building. There was something going on in the building today. I have a pretty good idea of what a bunch of it was tied to.

For ten minutes I walked and prayed. I talked with Jesus about the people and things I was picking up. I handed the things I was experiencing - the emotions that weren't mine - off. As I prayed I felt Jesus begin to speak, even though I'd only given him a tiny ten minute time limit. He spoke, and I prayed. When I went back to lunch with my coworker, some of the things God spoke were confirmed. Words I'd heard as I walked and prayed came out in our discussion of the very odd day we were both experiencing. My peace was restored, though somewhat challenged as the afternoon wore on.

I found myself exhausted as I traveled home. My body is not used to the sort of hyper-awareness I lived in today. I very nearly fell asleep in the middle of reading the first chapter of "Listening Prayer" on the bus. I think, though, that I'm going to find the book very helpful.

And with that, I'm going to chill on the couch. I need some downtime before engaging in the next battle.

In the atmosphere

I’m feeling a strong pull inward today. Walking around the insides of my soul tentatively and taking stock. Figuring out what's going on. What's mine in there, and what isn't.

It’s been an odd twenty four hours.

I spent a significant chunk of time both Saturday and yesterday exploring something I hadn’t thought about in years, and beginning to figure out next steps in some areas of my life.

I came home from the mountains last night feeling stretched, but very peaceful. I had a strong sense of the hands of God working in some areas of my life, though very few answers to some of the questions I had been seeking answers for.

As I mentioned in a post last night, I came home to discover that my mom had been hospitalized for much of the day yesterday. I’m still waiting to hear how she’s doing today.

I woke this morning with a perfect peace. Something that’s been lacking these last few months. A strong awareness of the close presence of the Spirit. A solution on my heart for one of the situations I’d been praying about all weekend. My commute this morning was an extension of that peace – a prayerful journey as I talked with God about many things past and upcoming in my life.

I arrived at the office, and couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but knew that something was off.

I don’t usually pick up on the spiritual or emotional atmosphere of a place. I quite easily pick that up from people, but rarely from location.

This has been a weird morning. There is something heavy going on in the atmosphere of our building (or at least our floor), and people are feeling it. Several have commented to me that they are having “weird days” or “one of those days.”

A relative of two of my coworkers passed away over the weekend, and that is adding something to the atmosphere.

I have been experiencing emotions all morning that I know are not mine. Intense anger. A cold, hardness of spirit. Grief. Deep, longing sadness. I’m working at not absorbing these things. The sense of peace I woke with this morning gives me the assurance that these are not mine, and yet, they are seeking to undermine my peace, and my confidence in the things God spoke as I traveled to work this morning.

I think I’m going to leave the building for a bit on my lunch hour. I feel like I need to be outside. To release some stuff and come back restored and refreshed for the afternoon.

It seems an odd coincidence that the book I brought with me to read on the bus on the way home this afternoon is one that Kirk lent me several months back, and I’m just now finding time to begin to wade through. The title? “Listening Prayer.”

Please Pray

I sent out the following email to some friends and intercessors when I arrived back in Calgary this evening. I'd appreciate your prayers as well.

Hi All!

Some of you probably know that I left Calgary on Friday evening to spend a weekend in the mountains, a bit of time away to do some praying and thinking through some decisions that have recently sprung up in my life. The time away turned out to be very much a blessing – a significant time with wonderful friends. There is, however, much to walk through in terms of some deeply personal and spiritual issues as a result of the weekend. I spent a large chunk of this morning journaling, and came up with some specific questions to which I will need to seek answers, and steps to take in these next days. I returned to Calgary this evening feeling very challenged, but very peaceful.

However, I came home to a rather troubling situation. My mom was taken by ambulance from a church event this morning to the local hospital. Dad spent the day there with her, and brought her home when they released her late this afternoon. When I spoke to dad, mom was resting at home. Mom suffers from an inner ear problem that from time to time violently flares up, completely eliminating any equilibrium, and making her violently nauseous. When this happens she has to be hospitalized or she becomes dangerously dehydrated. My mom also suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) due to a horribly abusive childhood, and is on medications to control some symptoms related to sleeping and depression. There tends to be a tie in to these episodes with her inner ear, and months when she has made significant recovery progress with the PTSD.

There also tends to be strong spiritual tie ins, and I sense that again this time, though I’m not sure exactly why. The enemy often seems to attack my family in the area of physical illness. Particularly my mom and my youngest brother (some of you will know that Tim is a musician who has been unable to play for the last ten months, due to a very difficult to diagnose and treat wrist injury that came out of nowhere – he is likely going to have surgery within the next month to try and correct the problem – touchy surgery due to the nature of the nerves, muscles and tendons in the hand and wrist).

I would greatly appreciate your prayers, and if you’re hearing anything I’d love it if you share it with me. The last time mom had one of these attacks, she was flat on her back for a week, unable to move around or the nausea would come back in force. Pray for healing, and for wisdom and discernment for me as I walk out these new things in my own life in the face of enemy attack, and as I seek to care for and be with my mom (and brother) in coming days.

Thanks so much for each of your involvement in my life – you are all appreciated, and much loved!


Lisa

At the edge of conciousness

I’ve been noticing a lot lately how topics of conversation, transitions in the physical realm, these sorts of things, can stir things in the spiritual realm. I’m not sure I understand this, but am becoming very aware of it in my own life. I had some conversations over the weekend that stirred some things I don’t understand, and the very physical transition of moving has also stirred a great number of things – some that I understand and some I don’t.

These days I feel like I’m floating a bit around the edges of some things. Not even exactly sure what those things are. Random things, poking and prodding, rattling at the edge of my consciousness. I’m dreaming every morning, just before I wake again, and am back to praying with some degree of vigilance before I fall asleep each night – warding off the onslaught of fears that come as I begin to drift towards sleep. The morning dreams are once again the frustrating kind – the ones where I wake unsettled, knowing something of importance was going on in the dreams, but was/is just beyond my reach. This morning was particularly bad. I snapped awake from an intense dream when my alarm clock rang, but retained only the adrenaline and edgy fear from whatever was happening in the dream.

I’m praying that something will break, and clarity will emerge. That only Jesus will have access to my dreams, and that I will be able to receive that which He speaks.

I’m praying for safety – particularly in my home. For it is there that the onslaught of fear is the strongest.

I’m working to believe the promise spoken over me that was first spoken over Abram “Do not be afraid. I am your shield, your very great reward.”

I have to keep reminding myself that this promise does not mean a life without warfare (the shield an essential element of armor), or even without wounds (for a shield cannot usually cover a person in the entirety), but a life that is held fast, protected from the complete destruction of the evil one, covered by the hands of Jesus.

Where I'm At

Okay, so here’s where I’m at. I’m sunburnt – all across my upper chest and arms. My face less so, but also burnt. I’m going to have to go to the drugstore on my lunch break and pick up some aloe vera gel to sooth my aching skin.

I’m going to the stampede tonight to see Jann Arden play - $3 gate admission with the proceeds going to breast cancer, and then the concert is free. Marginal additional cost for the famous mini-donuts which will make the evening perfect. I’m still working to figure out what I can wear that will cover my very sensitive sunburnt skin appropriately to protect it from further damage, and won’t leave me roasting to death due to the heat wave we’re currently experiencing.

Hopefully by the weekend I will be fully living in my new house. At the moment we’re waiting to move my bed and mattress to the new house before I can sleep there. I remain of completely mixed feelings about this. I am completely terrified in that “Oh crap I’m an adult” sort of way, with deeper fear issues thrown in just for fun. At the same time I am totally excited to establish my own place, and live independently – which, by the way is expensive.

I’m having money issues. There is almost nothing on the planet that can stress me out the way that money does. I absolutely hate having to think about money, wondering if I have enough money from paycheck to paycheck, thinking about a budget, anything with numbers and dollar signs involved, really. My ideal job would be one where I made enough money to simply be able to purchase something I wanted, without weighing pros and cons of spending that amount ad infinitum. I would also be able to give a lot more generously to things and people whose ministries I would like to be able to support. I hate that right now when I become aware of a need, I have to think about whether or not I will be able to live for the upcoming week or month without whatever the amount is that I would like to give.

On Saturday, my mom, my new roommate and I are going to the Rodeo at the Stampede Grounds. I haven’t been to the rodeo for several years now, and I’m looking forward to taking it in. We’re also going to a stampede barbeque hosted by the church I’ve been a part of the last year that evening. Should be a busy weekend, but fun.

All of these things I’ve mentioned seem so surface level and boring as I look back over them. The trouble is that I’m having a great deal of trouble putting words around the things I’m feeling and wading through these days. I feel like so many things are shifting around me, and I’m struggling to keep my footing. There has been a definite onslaught of spiritual attack, and a corresponding drop in my emotional, mental and spiritual energy levels as I weather and fight the attack.

I’m reading through the Psalms again lately, identifying with so many of the emotions found there, and clinging to the promises. I read God’s covenant with Abram – a word that some friends spoke over me, and I have seen borne out in my life the last several months – on a nearly daily basis these days, to remind myself where my protection and worth lay.

“Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward.” (Gen. 15:1)

An Ongoing Relationship With Fear

I have an ongoing relationship with fear and panic. Most of the time over the last couple of years, I've managed to make it a distant relationship. These past couple of weeks, it's been a very intimate relationship.

I have been battling fears on a massive scale this past week, mostly alone. Some spiritual attack, some just an expression of my overthinking, worrying sort of personality, but strong and overwhelming in either case.

After the initial overwhelming onslaught, it has come in waves. There are moments when I wake up in the morning and think, "wow, I'm feeling really at peace again." and then something will trigger a thought that leads to a fear, that leads to panic symptoms, and suddenly I'm again fighting for the sanctity of my mind and the sanity of my soul. Things I haven't thought about in ages have sprung up - fears of loved ones dieing, fears surrounding things that I am actually greatly looking forward to and anticipating with great joy (most days!).

And they're making me tired, and a bit anti-social (which, by the way, is a terrible way to be when you're already introverted and in need of lots of alone time to process, and while you're hosting a house guest).

Sometimes I wonder if the close relationship with Jesus is worth the energy it has seemed to require to fight the battles necessary to retain that closeness this last while. I have clung to the promise of God as shield and protector, the promise that I am never alone, and yet have felt so desperately alone in the human realm, separated by physical distance from those who share my heart and uphold me with hugs and prayers. I find myself once again crying out for community - for spiritual parents and friends from whom I can seek advice and support, and with whom I can learn to walk out this journey.

Something Died and Healing is Coming?

Sunday was an interesting day for me.

Those of you who know a bit about my journey this last while will know that I am struggling with some deep and somewhat harmful relational issues with my mom, and while I love her dearly, a day dedicated to talking about close relationships with mothers was somewhat trying.

On Sunday night I wrote a single line in my journal. "Something broke in me today." That was it. I was in the middle of a random conversation before church started, talking about a worship song the team was practicing in the background that I happen to dislike (hate would be a better word), and something snapped and died inside of me, and I started to weep, right in the middle of the conversation. (Not exactly the way to appear mentally stable!) Just like that, from one moment to the next, a season in my life came to an end. I'm not sure yet how that will pan out, what it means, what I'll do with it, but it's over. I wept twice more before the service was over - once while hiding at the back during the worship set, and once when someone I've known for a very long time, and have some level of trust with commented that I seemed down that day.

I watched a movie with my mom that night (great story, made me laugh, despite some plot gaps), but was still quite discouraged and worn down from the emotional nature of the day. I came upstairs after the movie ended, checked my email, and found a message from a dear friend. It was two sentences. "I love you. And I love your heart." I so desperately needed to hear that that day, when I was struggling so deeply with the way my heart was clashing against so many things in my immediate life. God's timing in my receiving that particular note was beautiful.

I wrote the following yesterday, as I reflected on the events of the weekend, and particularly on Sunday. I think it quite nicely sums up the present state of my life...

So, I'm back in the place of waiting, and wondering what comes next. There are some commitments that I need to honor for the remainder of this month, and for the month of June, before some things that have died in me can truly come to an end. There are great hopes and dreams for the time over the summer, for new things, new people, new places, new relationship with God and others. There is a growing urging to study and pray and meditate and write, to find some rhythms for my life. There is a sense of great discouragement, of grief and pain, of exhaustion, and even some anger. There is also a sense of great and ever growing hope.

I was reminded of a line from a Rita Springer song as I walked from the train to the office this morning, "I was made for war! I was made for battle, Lord!" I haven't felt up to the battle this last while, though I've been quite aware of it raging around me. I felt a sense of strength returning this morning, a hope for things to come, things worth doing battle for. A willingness to step in and really fight for the things I feel God speaking, not simply wait passively for them to arrive.

As I was writing this, I was reminded of a line from Scripture, "...My God shall supply all your needs..."

And one last line, from a Chris Tomlin song that God has repeatedly used to remind and encourage me this last while, "...I am loved by the King, and it makes my heart want to sing..."

Tuesday thoughts

This is one of those slightly foggy, off-balance kinds of days.

I had a strange encounter yesterday at lunch with an old man who had come to visit one of our employees. I don’t know why I told you that, other than that it sticks out in my mind as indicative of how the day went yesterday. He shook my hand, and without asking my permission, began to put his “reflexology” skills to work, informing me that my liver wanted “more good water.” It was an oddly frustrating and violating experience, one that left me slightly off-balance for the next couple hours. I spun out a bit emotionally, a 180 degree turn of how I was previously experiencing the day, from peace and joy to an almost depressive and hopeless state, and it took some praying, and deliberate refocusing of my thoughts to return to my previous equilibrium. It made me think about a conversation I had on the weekend, about being a burden-bearer, and being careful when you pray for and interact with people, that you don’t absorb their sicknesses or their problems. I’m wondering more about the transfer of spiritual things these days, because I seem to keep having experiences that would make this a very real possibility. For example, could what I experienced yesterday have spiritual connotations? Can that sort of transfer of emotion happen unsuspectingly, without deliberate intent? Am I overspiritualizing the fact that I was angry at this man’s intrusion into my life and personal space, after I’d told him that I would prefer that he didn’t do so?

I did errands for a couple hours directly after work last night. First up was a trip to Ikea to buy a piece of furniture for my bedroom. Ultimately, I bought two shelf-like bed-side tables, and stacked them on top of each other, slightly off-set to create a bookshelf. I needed to create some more space for books in my bedroom, and I needed to clean and organize a corner in which I can comfortably engage in the studying and prayer and meditation I have committed to engage in more frequently (see yesterday’s post). I also bought groceries, some office/studying supplies I’ve needed, and went to the library.

After I got home from my errands, I spent an hour studying, reading, and praying, and then I built the furniture I’d bought. (I built it by myself! Which is sometimes a challenge with Ikea furniture, and a slight mechanical ineptitude. The one time I bought a chair at Ikea, it took me a whole evening to build it, spread out on the living room floor, and my dad sat and laughed at me the whole time. He told me it was better than reality tv!) I ended up being up much later than normal, by the time the tables were built, my bedroom was rearranged to accommodate them, and the necessary cleaning that is required when you move furniture you haven’t moved in a while was accomplished (can you say DUST BUNNIES?!). I am very pleased with my new space, and while it will still require a bit of cleaning and organizing tonight, I’m greatly looking forward to lighting some candles, curling up in my chair, and reading and studying over the next while.

I’m trying something new this week. I’m organizing my life for the week by creating an extensive “to do” list. I work really well to lists. They help me organize my thoughts, keep track of the little things (in fact, as I wrote this sentence I remembered two other little things I need to do this week, and sent an email to my home address, reminding myself to add them to my list). And, if it’s on a list, I’m more likely to accomplish it. Plus, I get a great deal of satisfaction from actually crossing things off my list.

In this case, I’ve put everything from “organize dressing table” to “buy toothpaste” to more relational things like “plan youth hang out night”, “have dinner with Megs”, or church/business things like “have meeting to plan youth retreat” on my list. As I said, the purpose of the list is to give me a single sheet of paper that I can glance at and see what needs to be done over the course of the week, and then I can plan my week to accommodate as many of those things as possible.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not driven by the list. If things come up that are more important, the things on the list can wait. But this is a new way for me to organize my life, and create a more disciplined rhythm to my days, and I’m hoping it works out well.

Long Day

I walked in the door half an hour ago. I've been on the go since 9:30 this morning. First getting ready to attend a wedding, then meeting a friend for lunch, then the wedding ceremony, then meeting one of my youth girls at an Asian market to buy ingredients, then cooking Thai food with ten youth girls as our first girls hang out night, in place of the Bible study that wasn't working out so well, then driving one of the girls to her friend's place for the night, on the other side of the city.

I'm exhausted. It's been a long week emotionally, relationally, and spiritually. I could use a vacation just at the moment, but in less than 12 hours I teach Sunday school. A chapter in the book we're studying that says it's about temptation, but is really about spiritual warfare. Talk about a subject that not only hits close to home lately, but one that I feel completely ill-equipped to discuss. Particularly in this setting. I grew up in the church I'm teaching in, and have only recently returned after attending elsewhere for 3 years or so. I honestly thought that spiritual warfare didn't really happen in the "developed world." I figured it was something you encountered in Thailand, or Africa, definitely not here. I'm wondering how many of the kids I'm teaching have the same sort of concept in their head.

Pray for me. I feel ill-prepared, not ready yet to face this topic, not even particularly motivated to teach. In fact, if I wasn't teaching tomorrow, I'd probably stay at home in bed, and catch up on some much needed rest. Pray that I meet Jesus as I pray and finish preparing in the morning, and as we have the worship service before I teach. Pray that every word that comes out of my mouth will be guided by him, and clear and simple, straight to the heart of the subject, and the heart of the hearers. Pray for me, because I don't think like a teacher - I don't naturally think in a way that engages learning in others, I naturally think like a preacher - I develop a thought fully, rather than pushing them to develop it on their own, and it's hard to engage a group of teenagers and young adults by preaching at them. Pray that they will be opening to broadening their conception of God by engaging this topic.

With that, I'm off to read, and slow my brain down for a little while, and then to sleep.