I'm softer these days, I think
Like a fruit, easily bruised, needing to be handled with care
I need warm hugs and kind words and not too much time spent locked away in my own mind
Words meant in jest come off too harsh, and someone slides into a place I thought was mine and I make (another) wee mistake, or a big one, and my heart aches
As part of a homework assignment I've started a 5 day spiritual practice of setting aside a certain amount of time to talk to God, to worship and reflect and communicate.
It has felt like a pouring out of my soul to the Lord. I've made new discoveries, felt God's presence, and then tonight, as I was sitting in stillness waiting for His voice, it felt like I had hit a wall.
All day I was struggling, wrestling with myself. Writing didn't come easy to me and certain comments stung and I felt this barrier.
I fought against myself, crying out and asking God what was standing in my way, what was making this day seem so hard when before it had come a string of grace days.
"It's my own face that obscures the face of God"
It's a conclusion I've been coming to a lot lately, as God is working with soft hands to prune my heart, to create in me an eternal mindset.
In the middle of this teaching, as my heart is becoming softer, I've noticed more of the unexpected blessings.
Like heart to heart chats with the girl who is my kindred spirit, who gets my heart in ways that not many people do
Like being covered with a blanket as I lay sprawled out on one of the couches in the student lounge
Like being handed a coffee as I stumble into class and my sweet cleaning partner giving me the night off and laughter and story time
my heart is a little softer, and most days I feel the need to carry around a "handle with care" sign.
But I love what He's doing in me, and around me
I am convinced that the God I love will not leave me to stumble around in my own brokenness, that even in the wilderness as I wander nothing will separate us.
Even in these tender days, He's holding my heart
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Sunday, November 16, 2014
In the Wilderness (He showed up)
I've been quieter than usual lately. People have noticed.
I'm not sad or upset or stressed, just quiet.
I've been writing some, a personal little project about coffee cups and love and relationships, about getting your heart broken and the people who fix it.
I was talking with a friend tonight about this space, and how it kind of feels like I'm in the wilderness. I'm a little disoriented, stumbling around. There's nothing solid to hold on to.
I'm just out here, standing, waiting.
It gets tiring sometimes, waiting for something you can't even name. Waiting to feel loved, to feel joyful and content, to feel as though you've reached this goal. Waiting to stop feeling like the weak one, the one who can never quite get it right, the needy one who isn't sure what she wants.
And all of it, all this waiting, it's necessary and a space I need to be in for a while, but it's tiring. It's making me a little quieter, taking a little more time for personal reflection.
I was talking tonight to my friend about when God shows up.
God's been teaching me some pretty crazy stuff lately. He's been asking me to trust Him in my relationships (as some of the ones I thought as stable begin to crumble), with my family (as I'm asked to reflect on the relationships I have with those I love the most), to love His people even when I feel weak. Most recently, He's been asking me to trust that when He says He'll show up, He will.
I told H. how I've been going to the church on Fridays, to pray. And how I've been going even when it's cold, and I'm upset, and I'd much rather stay inside and get homework done. And how every time I go, God's met me there.
Who am I that the God of the Universe meets me in such a place?
I go to pray for relationships, for community, for my little town and the people I love.
And it is I who walks away changed
I told her that I've been reading through a Psalm a day as part of a homework assignment, and it is in this regular practice that God has met me.
He's showed up
He has whispered my name in this wilderness and called me Beloved
He holds out His hand and asks for my heart
He calls me blessed, chosen, His
Who am I that the living God of Israel looks on me with love and calls me His?
It doesn't always feel like a gift
This wilderness, where my heart is being gently attuned to the sound of God's voice, it isn't easy.
Relationships fall apart, addictions stay, nothing makes sense and in all of it I have asked "God, where are you?"
His response is the same, "Right here."
Right here, in the wilderness. Right here, beside me. Right here, offering me parts of Himself if only I'll look, and listen, and wait.
"Therefore I will allure her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her." Hosea 2:14
I'm not sad or upset or stressed, just quiet.
I've been writing some, a personal little project about coffee cups and love and relationships, about getting your heart broken and the people who fix it.
I was talking with a friend tonight about this space, and how it kind of feels like I'm in the wilderness. I'm a little disoriented, stumbling around. There's nothing solid to hold on to.
I'm just out here, standing, waiting.
It gets tiring sometimes, waiting for something you can't even name. Waiting to feel loved, to feel joyful and content, to feel as though you've reached this goal. Waiting to stop feeling like the weak one, the one who can never quite get it right, the needy one who isn't sure what she wants.
And all of it, all this waiting, it's necessary and a space I need to be in for a while, but it's tiring. It's making me a little quieter, taking a little more time for personal reflection.
I was talking tonight to my friend about when God shows up.
God's been teaching me some pretty crazy stuff lately. He's been asking me to trust Him in my relationships (as some of the ones I thought as stable begin to crumble), with my family (as I'm asked to reflect on the relationships I have with those I love the most), to love His people even when I feel weak. Most recently, He's been asking me to trust that when He says He'll show up, He will.
I told H. how I've been going to the church on Fridays, to pray. And how I've been going even when it's cold, and I'm upset, and I'd much rather stay inside and get homework done. And how every time I go, God's met me there.
Who am I that the God of the Universe meets me in such a place?
I go to pray for relationships, for community, for my little town and the people I love.
And it is I who walks away changed
I told her that I've been reading through a Psalm a day as part of a homework assignment, and it is in this regular practice that God has met me.
He's showed up
He has whispered my name in this wilderness and called me Beloved
He holds out His hand and asks for my heart
He calls me blessed, chosen, His
Who am I that the living God of Israel looks on me with love and calls me His?
It doesn't always feel like a gift
This wilderness, where my heart is being gently attuned to the sound of God's voice, it isn't easy.
Relationships fall apart, addictions stay, nothing makes sense and in all of it I have asked "God, where are you?"
His response is the same, "Right here."
Right here, in the wilderness. Right here, beside me. Right here, offering me parts of Himself if only I'll look, and listen, and wait.
"Therefore I will allure her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her." Hosea 2:14
Friday, October 31, 2014
15 on Friday
Over the past few weeks, God's been growing me.
I've been stretched, pushed and pulled and spread out. I feel all this space surrounding me, all this uncertainty and wondering and openness. The whole thing just feels too expansive, too much for my small hands to hold.
I remember a few weeks ago a friend saying that it feels like there is such a heaviness over this place, like we're engaged in this battle.
Yeah, I thought, I feel that
I feel the heaviness of fighting against myself. I feel the space when I am walking through those times where I feel out on my own. I feel the tenderness of my heart as it feels like it is being rubbed raw.
I'm questioning, flailing, stumbling, trying to navigate my way through this expansive wilderness.
Over and over I seem to echo a similar cry: Dear God, I want to hear your heartbeat
And gently He's been teaching me
One thing He's been showing me about His heart is His love for people
And I've never been a strong one, one good at walking into battle, but in this growing time I've become more open to hearing His voice and I can't ignore it when He whispers These are my people
This afternoon I bundled up in boots and a sweater and began walking. I walked my usual loop around the city, and then I came upon the church.
The church step was the only sitting place without snow, and so I sat. And though I am not strong I began to pray, my voice shaking, for His church.
For myself and for my friends, for church members and the community in which I live, I prayed without knowing words, feeling empty within myself, lacking eloquence.
And something changed.
I stayed on the church steps for 15 minutes, interceding on behalf of this community and His church, begging for His hand of provision over us, His mercies to fall, His grace to overwhelm. I uncurled my clenched fists and asked to be held. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and as I walked away 15 minutes later I knew I'd heard the sound of His heartbeat.
His heart beats for these people, too.
I've been stretched, pushed and pulled and spread out. I feel all this space surrounding me, all this uncertainty and wondering and openness. The whole thing just feels too expansive, too much for my small hands to hold.
I remember a few weeks ago a friend saying that it feels like there is such a heaviness over this place, like we're engaged in this battle.
Yeah, I thought, I feel that
I feel the heaviness of fighting against myself. I feel the space when I am walking through those times where I feel out on my own. I feel the tenderness of my heart as it feels like it is being rubbed raw.
I'm questioning, flailing, stumbling, trying to navigate my way through this expansive wilderness.
Over and over I seem to echo a similar cry: Dear God, I want to hear your heartbeat
And gently He's been teaching me
One thing He's been showing me about His heart is His love for people
And I've never been a strong one, one good at walking into battle, but in this growing time I've become more open to hearing His voice and I can't ignore it when He whispers These are my people
This afternoon I bundled up in boots and a sweater and began walking. I walked my usual loop around the city, and then I came upon the church.
The church step was the only sitting place without snow, and so I sat. And though I am not strong I began to pray, my voice shaking, for His church.
For myself and for my friends, for church members and the community in which I live, I prayed without knowing words, feeling empty within myself, lacking eloquence.
And something changed.
I stayed on the church steps for 15 minutes, interceding on behalf of this community and His church, begging for His hand of provision over us, His mercies to fall, His grace to overwhelm. I uncurled my clenched fists and asked to be held. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and as I walked away 15 minutes later I knew I'd heard the sound of His heartbeat.
His heart beats for these people, too.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Loveness
For one of our classes we're working our way through this book, meeting each week with another to discuss these tiny gems we draw from our weekly readings.
Most weeks I take tiny slivers of something to hold up to the light as the week passes, then promptly move on to the next virtue. But this, this one stuck out to me a little extra, shone a little brighter.
Thanksgiving
We made a challenge, for one whole day in the next week to notice every single time we said thank you and stop to ask why we were thankful.
And for a whole day I walked around being truly thankful for doors being held open and salt shakers being passed at dinner.
It reminded me of 1000 gifts, and how months ago I filled a little blue notebook with things I was grateful for, and how life got busy and the gratitude list became just another thing on my bigger to-do list and I stuck the little blue book on the shelf.
1. The patience of friends
2. Laughing voices coming from down the hallway
3. Big hugs as we say goodbye
4. Starry nights
One by one I create another list, naming the things in which I am grateful.
I'm nearing 100 now, 100 little gifts reminding me that all is grace.
I'm writing again, wild and rambling prose about people and love and coffee stains.
About this place in which I currently find myself, full of soft hands taking hold of mine and the space I've been feeling that surrounds my heart and the mystery of the unknown.
21. Physical closeness
22. Strong Brewed Coffee
23. Long walks down winding roads
24. Tiny eyes, wide and bright
I'm learning what it means to be loved. Sometimes I forget, and it takes the gentle reminder from a friend to bring my mind back to this. I'm learning it's ok to make mistakes and sometimes it's ok to let go. I'm learning that sometimes it takes being brought to the same place over and over again to finally learn, and sometimes when you think you know it all there comes the realization that there is (always) more left to learn.
47. Snowflakes falling on a Sunday
48. Her head tucked against my shoulder
49. Color coordination at the breakfast table
I'm being challenged to be honest, to be willing to get vulnerable and exposed, to spread open the parts of me I am most ashamed of and sit with them. I am being challenged not to stay here, where my own shortcomings, failures and humanness seem to be illuminated, but to rise.
Challenged to truly exist in this moment and make memories and keep living and loving with a heart flung wide open and to recognize that all this is grace
Elizabeth Gilbert says "Whatever comes and lifts your face out of the dirt and says 'rise, rise, rise' that is grace."
72. Words
73. Impromptu dance parties
I am falling in love with the world more and more each day. With strong hands and soft eyes and small gestures and words and sounds and people, always people. Sometimes all this loving makes me feel as though my heart is going to fracture under the weight of it all. I love too fiercely, too deeply, too quickly and passionately and wildly, and sometimes this causes bruises and cuts and I lay on the carpet wondering why I have loved at all. The challenge in these moments is to remain open, to keep on loving and letting myself be loved in different forms.
83. The silence of early morning
84. Clay under my fingers
85. Opportunity
Someone asked me once what I wanted my legacy to be, and I'll always remember what I said. I stole the phrase from Jennifer Pastiloff, and it is still one of the truest things I know.
"When I get to the end of my life and ask one final 'What have I done?' let my answer be 'I have done love.''
I want to have done love. I want to have loved well, but I also want to have loved badly and fully and passionately and messy and like crazy and the right people at the wrong time and the wrong people at the right time and myself.
I want to always experience love so completely it almost breaks my heart.
At the end of this day, when the clock has already ticked on to morning and exhaustion is in my bones from all the messy loving I did today, when I am vaguely aware of the still broken pieces of myself being made whole, I add one more thing to my list in delicate black ink script
91. Love
I am grateful for love
Most weeks I take tiny slivers of something to hold up to the light as the week passes, then promptly move on to the next virtue. But this, this one stuck out to me a little extra, shone a little brighter.
Thanksgiving
We made a challenge, for one whole day in the next week to notice every single time we said thank you and stop to ask why we were thankful.
And for a whole day I walked around being truly thankful for doors being held open and salt shakers being passed at dinner.
It reminded me of 1000 gifts, and how months ago I filled a little blue notebook with things I was grateful for, and how life got busy and the gratitude list became just another thing on my bigger to-do list and I stuck the little blue book on the shelf.
1. The patience of friends
2. Laughing voices coming from down the hallway
3. Big hugs as we say goodbye
4. Starry nights
One by one I create another list, naming the things in which I am grateful.
I'm nearing 100 now, 100 little gifts reminding me that all is grace.
I'm writing again, wild and rambling prose about people and love and coffee stains.
About this place in which I currently find myself, full of soft hands taking hold of mine and the space I've been feeling that surrounds my heart and the mystery of the unknown.
21. Physical closeness
22. Strong Brewed Coffee
23. Long walks down winding roads
24. Tiny eyes, wide and bright
I'm learning what it means to be loved. Sometimes I forget, and it takes the gentle reminder from a friend to bring my mind back to this. I'm learning it's ok to make mistakes and sometimes it's ok to let go. I'm learning that sometimes it takes being brought to the same place over and over again to finally learn, and sometimes when you think you know it all there comes the realization that there is (always) more left to learn.
47. Snowflakes falling on a Sunday
48. Her head tucked against my shoulder
49. Color coordination at the breakfast table
I'm being challenged to be honest, to be willing to get vulnerable and exposed, to spread open the parts of me I am most ashamed of and sit with them. I am being challenged not to stay here, where my own shortcomings, failures and humanness seem to be illuminated, but to rise.
Challenged to truly exist in this moment and make memories and keep living and loving with a heart flung wide open and to recognize that all this is grace
Elizabeth Gilbert says "Whatever comes and lifts your face out of the dirt and says 'rise, rise, rise' that is grace."
72. Words
73. Impromptu dance parties
I am falling in love with the world more and more each day. With strong hands and soft eyes and small gestures and words and sounds and people, always people. Sometimes all this loving makes me feel as though my heart is going to fracture under the weight of it all. I love too fiercely, too deeply, too quickly and passionately and wildly, and sometimes this causes bruises and cuts and I lay on the carpet wondering why I have loved at all. The challenge in these moments is to remain open, to keep on loving and letting myself be loved in different forms.
83. The silence of early morning
84. Clay under my fingers
85. Opportunity
Someone asked me once what I wanted my legacy to be, and I'll always remember what I said. I stole the phrase from Jennifer Pastiloff, and it is still one of the truest things I know.
"When I get to the end of my life and ask one final 'What have I done?' let my answer be 'I have done love.''
I want to have done love. I want to have loved well, but I also want to have loved badly and fully and passionately and messy and like crazy and the right people at the wrong time and the wrong people at the right time and myself.
I want to always experience love so completely it almost breaks my heart.
At the end of this day, when the clock has already ticked on to morning and exhaustion is in my bones from all the messy loving I did today, when I am vaguely aware of the still broken pieces of myself being made whole, I add one more thing to my list in delicate black ink script
91. Love
I am grateful for love
Monday, October 20, 2014
Dear Mom
Dear Mom,
This week I’ve been thinking a lot about where I come from. I used to think I never wanted to leave home. But here I am, almost all grown up and on my own for the first time, and I am reflecting on the foundation you and Dad laid for me during the first years of my life.
I was your first baby, and no one gave you the manual on how to be the best parent. I wasn’t the easiest child to raise, and I know you did the very best you could. You made mistakes, made up your own rules along the way, made memories that have lasted me a life time. Like they say there isn’t one way to be the best parent, but there are a hundred ways to be a good one.
People here have been pointing out things about me, and sometimes all I can think is Yeah, I got that from my mom. My smile, the way I care so deeply about people, the way I’m honest. I am the person I am today because of how you and Dad raised me.
I know I don’t always appreciate you enough, probably because I’m growing up and like to think I know everything. But the truth is I don’t know anything. As much as I like to think I can figure everything out on my own, I still need you sometimes. And sometimes I can figure things out on my own, because you taught me to be independent, to be smart and make good choices.
I am so grateful for all you’ve shown me, for all you’ve taught me. And as I walk through my life I want to always remember and appreciate the fact that I am who I am because of you.
I love you, Mom
From your daughter
This week I’ve been thinking a lot about where I come from. I used to think I never wanted to leave home. But here I am, almost all grown up and on my own for the first time, and I am reflecting on the foundation you and Dad laid for me during the first years of my life.
I was your first baby, and no one gave you the manual on how to be the best parent. I wasn’t the easiest child to raise, and I know you did the very best you could. You made mistakes, made up your own rules along the way, made memories that have lasted me a life time. Like they say there isn’t one way to be the best parent, but there are a hundred ways to be a good one.
People here have been pointing out things about me, and sometimes all I can think is Yeah, I got that from my mom. My smile, the way I care so deeply about people, the way I’m honest. I am the person I am today because of how you and Dad raised me.
I know I don’t always appreciate you enough, probably because I’m growing up and like to think I know everything. But the truth is I don’t know anything. As much as I like to think I can figure everything out on my own, I still need you sometimes. And sometimes I can figure things out on my own, because you taught me to be independent, to be smart and make good choices.
I am so grateful for all you’ve shown me, for all you’ve taught me. And as I walk through my life I want to always remember and appreciate the fact that I am who I am because of you.
I love you, Mom
From your daughter
Sunday, October 19, 2014
I woke up this morning feeling hopeful.
The night before had been so thick and heavy, carrying with it a hint of despair. Wandering around the dorms felt like walking through fog, and it was easy to slip into the feeling that all was not well.
I stumbled around in my own exhaustion, my own shortcomings and failures.
I made the decision last night that this morning would be for spending time alone to reflect, to pray, to sit in the presence of God.
I awoke this morning and watched as others got dressed and went on their way to Sunday services.
I cracked open my Bible, desiring truth and comfort, God's promises made real.
I read and wrote in my journal and all the while I felt myself being lifted.
I turned on a podcast, pulled a hoodie over my pajamas and began to walk until I was out of town
This afternoon the homework party happened in my room, and as I looked over the beautiful girls all bent over their work, spread out on the beds and onto the floor, I couldn't help but feel grateful
I whispered a silent thank you before returning to the assignment spread out before me
Lately my heart has been nudged towards gratitude
What am I grateful for? I ask myself
for His grace, which is sufficient in my weakness
for long walks with friends
for each and every one of the girls in my care group
for late night hockey games
and water fights while doing dishes
for card games and coffee
for music
and conversation
for lunch time laughter and stories around the supper table
for honesty, given and received
for where I come from and where I'm headed, and for everything in between
the guys in our brother care group who care for me in ways that makes all the difference
for yellow leaves and friends to cover
being held and giving without needing anything in return
For grace
and grace
and more grace
The night before had been so thick and heavy, carrying with it a hint of despair. Wandering around the dorms felt like walking through fog, and it was easy to slip into the feeling that all was not well.
I stumbled around in my own exhaustion, my own shortcomings and failures.
I made the decision last night that this morning would be for spending time alone to reflect, to pray, to sit in the presence of God.
I awoke this morning and watched as others got dressed and went on their way to Sunday services.
I cracked open my Bible, desiring truth and comfort, God's promises made real.
I read and wrote in my journal and all the while I felt myself being lifted.
I turned on a podcast, pulled a hoodie over my pajamas and began to walk until I was out of town
This afternoon the homework party happened in my room, and as I looked over the beautiful girls all bent over their work, spread out on the beds and onto the floor, I couldn't help but feel grateful
I whispered a silent thank you before returning to the assignment spread out before me
Lately my heart has been nudged towards gratitude
What am I grateful for? I ask myself
for His grace, which is sufficient in my weakness
for long walks with friends
for each and every one of the girls in my care group
for late night hockey games
and water fights while doing dishes
for card games and coffee
for music
and conversation
for lunch time laughter and stories around the supper table
for honesty, given and received
for where I come from and where I'm headed, and for everything in between
the guys in our brother care group who care for me in ways that makes all the difference
for yellow leaves and friends to cover
being held and giving without needing anything in return
For grace
and grace
and more grace
Friday, October 17, 2014
Great is Thy Faithfulness
I woke up early, still exhausted after only a few hours of sleep, and got ready in the dark.
The sun had barely begun to peek through the trees when I stumbled to the 8 a.m. session on the first full day of Global Ministries conference.
This past week has been one of those weeks. Assignments are piling up, I am being brought to the wrestling ring time and time again, and I am constantly being asked to open up my room, my school, and my life to those visitors, missionaries and friends who are here for the conference this weekend.
And to be honest, I haven't been that welcoming, that kind.
I don't feel like being welcoming this week. I feel exhausted and stressed.
I've walked away from situations where I've been less than hospitable only to find myself immediately thinking of all the ways I could have been better, should have been better.
And all of it makes me feel like I'm failing.
My care group went on a mini missions trip this afternoon, and for the first little while when we were there all I could do was think how I didn't want to be here. I felt like I had nothing to give these people. They were just there, requiring more of my time and patience and kindness, and I had none left to give.
Looking back over this week, I see where I failed.
But I also see where He provided
This past week I was blessed with time where I was able to connect with a few good friends.
I was given small moments of rest
I received a verse, a lesson in class, a word from a friend at the times when it felt like I couldn't possibly give anything more that encouraged me to press on
His grace is sufficient
His strength is enough, even when mine is failing
And none of this is about me. All of it points back to Him
Like a friend reminded me, God is bigger than my failings, my shortcomings. He isn't hindered by the things I did or didn't do.
He gives me what I need for each day, no more and no less
I am reminded of the chorus of the song we sang on our missions trip today, the one I sang with the intent of offering it up to others only to be reminded that it is perhaps I who needed to be reminded of it the most
Great is Thy Faithfulness
Great is Thy Faithfulness
There is no shadow of turning with Thee
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy Faithfulness, Lord unto me
The sun had barely begun to peek through the trees when I stumbled to the 8 a.m. session on the first full day of Global Ministries conference.
This past week has been one of those weeks. Assignments are piling up, I am being brought to the wrestling ring time and time again, and I am constantly being asked to open up my room, my school, and my life to those visitors, missionaries and friends who are here for the conference this weekend.
And to be honest, I haven't been that welcoming, that kind.
I don't feel like being welcoming this week. I feel exhausted and stressed.
I've walked away from situations where I've been less than hospitable only to find myself immediately thinking of all the ways I could have been better, should have been better.
And all of it makes me feel like I'm failing.
My care group went on a mini missions trip this afternoon, and for the first little while when we were there all I could do was think how I didn't want to be here. I felt like I had nothing to give these people. They were just there, requiring more of my time and patience and kindness, and I had none left to give.
Looking back over this week, I see where I failed.
But I also see where He provided
This past week I was blessed with time where I was able to connect with a few good friends.
I was given small moments of rest
I received a verse, a lesson in class, a word from a friend at the times when it felt like I couldn't possibly give anything more that encouraged me to press on
His grace is sufficient
His strength is enough, even when mine is failing
And none of this is about me. All of it points back to Him
Like a friend reminded me, God is bigger than my failings, my shortcomings. He isn't hindered by the things I did or didn't do.
He gives me what I need for each day, no more and no less
I am reminded of the chorus of the song we sang on our missions trip today, the one I sang with the intent of offering it up to others only to be reminded that it is perhaps I who needed to be reminded of it the most
Great is Thy Faithfulness
Great is Thy Faithfulness
There is no shadow of turning with Thee
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy Faithfulness, Lord unto me
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