Paraiso

All photos by bgrace except the one I´m in.  Daren took that one. 

(All unedited by the way.  The color is the real deal.)

Praia

No Words

Curtain Call

So a curtain call comes at the end.  But I took this picture before the show started.  I love the look of it.  Can't really tell if something just happened or is about to happen.  One usually is a sign of the other.  Right now I just can't wait until the plane door seals shut and there isn't one more thing I can possibly feel like I should do or could do. 

And then it will be the end.

And the beginning. 

2 1/2 fingers left... 

(Check out more of Grace's dance photos on the B Girls Blog Link below.)

Reason for the Season

Photo by Bgrace

Sarah is not exactly where I want her in terms of how she feels about Christmas.  Let's just say there are a few things she needs to work through.
I was curled up into my favorite part of the morning today.  The memory of Matt's kiss goodbye still lingered on my neck.  I was drifting in that place between wake and sleep.  Ken and Katherine say it's the best time to capture lessons from night school.  Peter Pan says its when fairies appear. 
I like the quiet before the chaos of the day begins.  I like how my blankets feel warm against the cold air.  I try to let my feelings surface and make their way into a prayer but I often meander back into dreams.  Driftings between heaven and Never Never Land belong to that hour. 
So when Sarah crawled in to "cuddle" I tried to prolong the inevitable getting up as much as possible.  She tends to be talkative in the morning.  I tried that angle.
"Guess how many days are left before we go to Brazil?"
"How many?" she asked excitedly.
"Seven," I said and then help up two fingers on one hand and five on the other. (It's so much easier now that it's less than 10.) 
"Are you excited to see Sparky?" My Father tells her all sorts of stories about his dog.
"Yes!  Did he grow?" she exclaimed.  I laughed because Sparky is small, but he isn't a puppy anymore.
"Do you know whose Birthday we're celebrating on Christmas?" I asked. 
"Me?" she asked.  I shook my head.  "You?" "Em?" 
"Nope," I said, "It's Baby Jesus' Birthday."
Her face clouded over.  "I don't like Baby Jesus." 
"Why not?" I asked in surprise.
"I don't like Him.  I hate Him." 
I tried a little coaxing. I told her about how he was born in a barn with cows and sheep.  It wasn't enough.  I was tempted to scold her, but instead I said, "Well, He loves you very much.  He is your Christmas present."
I get that she's reacting this way because she doesn't understand.  I didn't know how to explain that Jesus wasn't trying to keep all our gifts for Himself or crash our Christmas party.  She couldn't grasp that He is not only the gift but the reason for the celebration. 
Sam decided to join us and plopped himself on top of Sarah and started licking her "clean."  I picked up Story (Steven James) which I have been rereading off and on for a while.  I started where I had left off, and began the chapter on New Wine.  It connected a lot with me, but more specifically about my conversation with Sarah. 
James is telling a story:
On their wedding day, Alon comes to Rachel--who was betrothed to him by her Father--and says,

"Your Father has said yes to our marriage, but I would rather have your approval than his.  You know the tradition--once you step across the threshold of my home, we're married." 

"Yes, I know."

"I don't want you to come in unless that yes comes from your heart and not just your Father's."

In our country only a man of men would offer a bride such a choice.

Jesus is a man of men.  He gives Sarah the same choice.  I know how incredibly important it is for her to hear about His love from me.  I also know that it is even more important that she believe it because she hears it from God Himself.  The Spirit of God must prepared the way and reveal Himself to her.  I cannot force her to receive His love and God won't. When she is able to listen I can try and help her understand who He is and what He has done.  But there is a critical process that she must go through that I must honor and I can't rush.  She will have a choice. 

I hope that Sarah learns not to be threatened by Jesus. I hope that she will soon understand that there is so much more in His love than what is waiting for her under the tree Christmas morning.  So much that she will never settle for earthly things in light of the eternity He offers her.  But because I love Sarah, I need to let her be honest with me about how she feels now without fear that I will reject her.  I don't want her to accept Baby Jesus because I want her to, but because she trusts and believes that He truly is God's most precious gift to her. 
So this Christmas I'm going to ask God to help me know how to show Sarah my love for her, and how it comes from this same Baby Jesus and that she can trust Him even more than me. And I'm going to wait in hope that she will choose Him because she believes Him.
My prayer is that God will reveal His love to her in a way that the only choice she wants to make is to love Him in return. 
In fact, I'll pray that prayer for all of us.

Love Covers

Falling Together

We don't all go through seasons of change in concert.  In two weeks I'll be entering summer on the day most of you will be entering the first day of winter.  I often feel like I'm in a different season than most people. But there are those brief moments when we seem to be in the same place at the same time.  In those moments we can feel like one.  Maybe even really be one.  Not forging ahead alone or trying to catch up from behind. We can see the same things, hear the same songs, write the same lines, maybe even breath the same air in our lungs.

It's an Oasis.  A rest in the desert.

But winter will close you in soon and lock you up under it's cold blanket, in it's white safety.

And me?

Well, I'm going to be stringing a hammock under those palm trees, drinking out of coconuts, and using only enough sunscreen to keep skin cancer at bay.  Oh--and flirting with seagulls.

This is the thought we can share until then.  Love covers over a multitude of sins. 

Sometimes with snow.  Sometimes with waves. 

Rest in that.

L

We're not quite ready to look each other in the eye.

Where the soul can't lie.

Too afraid of what we'll find.

That we'll be more lost or left behind.

As if we're not lost now. 

But if you want, I'll sit next to you.

In the warm red sun.

Our eyes closed, spirits entwined.

Open the pain up together. 

You can feel yours with mine.

After all, they're one and the same.

Well, maybe, but I'm not sure.

Once the layers of guilt and shame

Stop playing their games
I think what's left of the pain
Will be white pure.
The place where saints are given a new name.
Where priests are given to cure.
Maybe then we'll find the courage
to let ourselves love each other
at the same time.

Whatever Comes

Sunset Rays

"Asking is not doubting.  It is trusting."

"It takes more faith to ask than it takes to fear the asking.  It takes faith to be ready for whatever comes, and faith to persevere with more questions if the answer is not understood.  Asking an honest question means being ready to change in response to the answer, and short of martyrdom, change may be the ultimate act of faith."

Athol Dickson

The Gospel According to Moses

Photo by Randy Richner

Birthday Wishes

Guess what I got for my birthday?

Ok, so it wasn't the mini.  Which I did want. 

(Something got lost in translation and God gave me the van version.) 

I told Matt last night that it doesn't feel right to be 37. 

I feel 40 this year. 

So I'm celebrating my 40th  for the next 3 years. 

At least.  Maybe I'll celebrate it for 3 more years after that.

That should give God time to give me an exchange,

and Matt time to change the sign on the mini...and wrap it. 

All Night

Photo by Bgrace

Lay your hand

Over my heart

It's leaking valves

And bleeding parts

In the dark

I don't need to fight

We close the door

Take rest from sight

Kiss my head

Stroke my hair

Whisper softly

Your there, theres.

When I ask,

You hold me

Your warm arms enfolding

Longer than all night.

And I know

Because you told me

That you're gonna hold me

Longer than all night.

Thorns

Thorns by Bgrace

I asked Ted once, "How do you keep moving toward the one that wounds you?" 

"What does He offer you?" he asked. 

Unenthusiastically, I mustered up my best Sunday School answer, "Eternal life." 

"What about the very breath that you breathe?" he said.

More breaths, more wounds. 

Following God and experiencing intimacy with Him has its moments of wonder and beauty.  But it is also very painful.  If we want more than just to be known--if we want to know Him, to receive Him, to be changed by Him--than so much of us has to be opened up and taken apart and broken down.  We must move through the confusion toward understanding.  Through the pain into the wound. 

It's excruciating. 

Only then can we understand that the cross is the blessing.

Ressurection waits on the other side.

I find myself thinking about what kind of strength Jesus must have had to wear his thorns, to move toward the cross.  Look at His struggle in the garden.  Knowing what was on the other side didn't take away the enormity of what He would have to go through.

I'm tired. 

At this point I'd rather curl up under the olive tree next to John and Peter and take a long nap. 

But the wound won't let me.  Sooner or later it wakes me up and reminds me that I have something more to do.  That there is a reason the wound is there.  That it is pushing me and pulling me toward something more.  Toward a purpose, toward a greater intimacy, toward home.

And probably toward more wounds.

It's time to grab the thorns. 

I'm going to need a lot of breath.

Some Daze

Some Daze
Photo by bgrace

Some days I wish you'd erase from my mind

The things I've heard, felt and seen.

I'd have no memories, no thoughts that bind

The present untainted, a slate wiped clean.

Some days I wish you'd make it all clear

A key to the cipher; an angel's "do not fear."

I'd be free from confusion, free from duress

Ready to fly, or simply to rest.

But these days I'm becoming more and more sure

The dilemmas you've dealt have no human cure.

You're showing me things I can't seem to know

Taking me places I can't really go

Instead of clearing up all doubt

Of what I'm in, and how to get out

You're waiting

For me

To turn my eyes to You

And ask

"Who are You?"

Originally Posted on Trigo Sem Joio 9-9-08

This Is Now...

We're better at a few things than we used to be.  Like celebrating for starters. 

And taking pictures.  And kissing in public.  And taking pictures while kissing in public. 

But in all seriousness, we're better at being married too.
15 years in our love, respect, and admiration for each other has grown. 
So has our deep appreciation for God's work in our lives and in our family.
Matt looked at me last night and said, "You know, I wouldn't trade it for where we are now."
I studied his face curiously and said, "What do you mean by it?"
"Everything we've been through in the last 15 years for where we are today."
As I looked into his eyes I found that I believed him.
Happy Anniversary, Matthew Todd.  I love you.

Back Then...

15 Years ago today was the day before my wedding.  It's a day girls seem to wait for their whole lives.  Mine was worth the wait. I got the photos out and showed them to the girls for the first time.  At least, for the first time they remember.  Grace giggled over how young everyone looked back then and Sarah didn't even recognize Matt.  I did not know much about photos back then, and there are so many photos I wish we had taken.  These were some I didn't include in my album for one reason or another.  Probably because there wasn't such a thing as digital cropping.  But after scanning them and messing with them a bit I decided these deserved a second look.  There's something about sepia that says "old in a good way."  Oh--and doesn't Matt look COMPLETELY different clean-shaven?

Below are two pictures that are special to me.
Kristin was my made of honor, and a friend I never deserved to have.  Brittany, my cousin, was my flower girl and is all grown up now. So many memories...

Creation

Roaring Brook

Photo by Bgrace

Hover
Spirit
Over my vacant hapless
Form

Cloaked
I
Wait in the womb of undeveloped
Possibility

Speak
Word
Bring forth from your lips
Light

Separate
Maker
Command that heaven and earth split into ordered
Refractions

Breathe
Ruah
Into my lifeless dust
Meaning

(an excerpt from) Story by Steven James

White Rose

I dreamt, and in my dream an angel appeared to me, hovering just out of reach.
“Tell me about your world,” she said.

“Well, it’s a good world,” I said. “A wonderful place, actually, where healing can be found in even the deepest of our wounds…and yet…”

“And yet?”

“Yet it’s a painful and pain-filled world where scars appear on the souls of even the greatest of our saints.”

“Your world is a mystery!” said the angel.

“Yes.”

“But even your saints are failures?”

“They’re the ones most aware of their failings and the first to admit them. The rest of us claim we’re good even through we’re not. And our saints claim they aren’t good even though they are. We think of them as holy, but they see themselves only as unclean and in need of healing.”

“So your sickest spirits think they are well and your healthiest souls know they are sick?”

“I guess so.”

“You live in a puzzling world indeed!”

“Is there any hope for your world?”

I didn’t know what to say. “We hope there’s hope, but we’re not sure. This much we do know: any hope won’t come from within our world or from within our hearts because—“

“—even your saints have stains on their souls.”

“Yes. Even our saints.”

This little light of mine

Darkness and Enslavement. 

They have a tendancy to hold hands.

I've been following these words through the story of Scripture.

It's beginning to feel a little bit like a "which came first?" riddle.

Enslavement or Darkness?
Freedom from oppression, slavery, blindness, corruption, confusion--whether in reference to a mental, spiritual, physical, social, or moral prison--involves not just a coming out of but a coming unto. 

Another "which comes first?" riddle.

Coming into light, coming unto Light.

Those must hold hands as well, right?

Except I'm not sure I really own that. 

The question I find myself asking is can we really come into light if we don't come unto Light?

In my own spirit I can feel the hesitation. 
The temptation to go half-way.

The temptation to grasp for answers instead of intimacy.

The temptation to find security in religion rather than relationship.

To pawn off freedom management in exchange for social respectability.

Like passing out candles in a windstorm.

Providing flashlights with nonrechargeable batteries.

 

What I keep seeing over and over is that when God frees, He doesn't just desire to free captives out of a Kingdom of Darkness.  His desire is to gather us into His Kingdom of Light--where He is not only the provider of light but the very source of light. 

Here is the application point for me.

Am I brave enough to ask for it all? 

If I'm honest, it would be easier to do one or the other.  Give me a social justice platform.  God--I want to free these people from human trafficking.  It's wrong that they are enslaved.
OR
Give me a spiritual ministry.  God--I want to help these people to find healing from their wounds. Let me build them an oasis where they are invited to come and meet with Jesus.

But what if God wants to do it all?

What if God wants to free these girls and women and boys and men from this bondage of human trafficking and sexual slavery?

What if Jesus wants to be their healer?

What if God wants to come against the corruption and darkness behind all that drives this horrible practice?
What if God wants to uproot it politically, socially, morally, mentally, and spiritually?
What if God wants people to know that He did it?
What if an overwhelmingly pervasive process of redemption could really happen?
What if God wants to set people free from darkness and bring them unto Himself? 

Unto the Source of Light?

What if God wanted to make Himself known in a really big way?

Am I able to believe God can do it all?  That He wants to do it all?

That He has the power and the desire to tear down strongholds in the kingdoms of the political world and the spiritual world?

That He wants to bring the world into an understanding and relationship with Himself where all things are made new?

It's all so far beyond me. Beyond all of us.

Laughable, right?

 

Yet, sometimes it feels like it is the very substance of my existance.

Because it isn't about what we can do.  It's about what God wants to do.

It's about people crying out.  It's about God answering.
Does God want to do this now?

Do you want to use me?

Worth a Thousand Words

This photo might need a little explanation.  Every once in a while when I'm taking a shot of something or another, my shadow gets my attention.  Today, when I was taking some photos of Emily catching tadpoles in the gardens, it cast itself on the water.  Then Emily leaned over and I gasped as I saw her reflection inside my silhouette.  I held my breath to see if it would show up in the photo. 

I saw my shadow.

I saw her reflection.

I saw the yellow leaves floating on the blue water.

I saw the wind in her hair. 

I saw so much more than I care to water down with words.

It's your birthday Em.

This gift was for both of us.

Someday you'll understand. 

Evening Reflections

I took Grace to dance this evening. Usually I need to hurry home or go straight into work, so I don't get the chance to watch her, but Jean had Em and Sarah and I had the night off so I stayed.  I was only going to stay a few minutes, but I just loved watching her so much I sat for over an hour.  It's not like they were doing anything special--bar work, turns, and leaps.  Grace is in a class full of dancers that are around the same level as she is.  They have varying strengths and weaknesses.  I love to watch her teacher correct her and complement her.  It's not really anything terribly exciting, but for some reason there is little on this earth that settles my spirit like watching Grace dance.  There's something about it that just feeds my soul.  It's not exactly motherly pride or anything like that.  It just brings me peace, as if I know that something is right in the world, that this is as it should be.
Grace's dance is close to Matt's office, so on the way home I called him to see if he had to work late.  We decided to go have drinks at the Symposium.  His boss (our friend) joined us after a bit and we enjoyed each other's company for a while before I excused myself to go relieve Jean. I had the car to myself for reflectiong on the ride home. 

What really surfaced in my heart was a deep gratitude toward God for the present.  There are times in my journey when I am tempted to think that God isn't working or doing anything about my future.  He's shown me some pretty interesting possibilities about the directions my career may take.  But then I wait and wait...and I could get impatient.  Or I could begin to doubt. 

Except that what God is doing in the present keeps my doubts at bay.  I look at Grace and all that is in the works there, how I couldn't have possibly orchestrated a better environment for her and how I see her growing and progressing far beyond my expectations and I know that God is bringing about what He said.

Then I look at Matt and all that has transpired over the past 14 months and I am sobered by God's blessing.  I have loved every minute of walking this growth process with him in his career.  Really!  Even the moments between 2 and 4 AM.  He is shedding all of those things that have crippled him in the past.  He is rising to the task at hand and he's doing it beautifully.  The harder things have gotten the more he's had to step up.  He's faced every possible difficulty--political, ethical, relational, technical, spiritual...and he's fought through it.  He's faced his own demons, and those of others too.  His promotion was a blessing we had prayed for, but when he got it it was to me only an acknowledgement of what he had already proven.

I have loved the opportunites I've had to fight for things regarding his job through prayer and fasting and just listening and encouraging him.  It has been so meaningful to me to  know that when I sense his anxiety rising and the enemy begin to attack him in his sleep that I can lay my hands on him and go to battle until his breathing returns to normal and peace takes over.  I have been blessed by seeing God's words to me regarding Matt proved true--and I can't wait to see how much more they will become true.  My respect for Matt has continued to grow as I've seen him time and again do the right thing instead of the easy thing and return kindness when dealt with unfairly. He's stayed true to who he is and insisted on treating people with respect even when pressured to deal with things differently so that people would be more afraid of him.  I am so proud of him.  But even more than that I am incredibly grateful to God.  If Matt lost his job tomorrow--none of these past 14 months would seem like a loss to me because the changes that have taken place that matter are in Matt.  Not in a job.  That is the work of God and the cooperation of Matt with Him.

And when I look at these things I realize more and more how important (oh captain, my captain) it is to suck the marrow out of life.  Out of the present.  I would not trade any of the present for the future I'm hoping for.  Because if I did--it wouldn't be the future I'm hoping for.  Every moment of the present is preparation and a becoming for later.  What I am learning, and the person I am becoming as enter into each relationship and circumstance the Lord leads me through is an important part of preparing me for the future.  The present is the pathway to the future.

I'm so grateful for those times that God allows me to see His hand working and doing what He has said.  It gives me faith to believe that He is working far beyond my scope of sight. 

Tonight, I decided, the more God shows me what is to come, the more I'll seek to fully enter the present--with it's blessings and trials and battles and rests.  More than that--In the present, I'll seek to enter into a deeper intimacy with the One who has great plans for me--to prosper and not to harm me, to bring me a hope and a future. 

Choice

Sometimes I’m tempted to think that choice does not really exist.

Until I remember Eden.

Does God know all that will be?

Do we have choice?

How much?

Does He know what we will choose?

Does He know what He will choose?

How is it that when we truly want to choose God’s will we can end up so far away in another place?

Will we ever get to choose again?

What is prophecy?

Is it what will be chosen?

Or what should be chosen?

Or what we’re heading toward unless something changes?

I wonder how often God intervenes.

How exactly does God choose?

Does His choice override ours?

How often?

How many times are our choices made by not choosing?

How do other’s choices affect what I have to choose from?

How hard does God work to bring things back to His plan?

Or does He make another way?

Or are the detours His idea in the first place?

Or did He just know about them and incorporate them into His master plan?

Does He ever change His mind?

Do a lot of things He plans just not happen because we don’t move and choose along with Him?

How many times does He prompt us to choose?

How long does He wait?

How many things flow in and out of possibility the longer He waits?

If we choose according to His will is it an act of worship?

If we think we are choosing according to His will but we were wrong is it still an act of worship?

Is everything an exercise of choosing His will or is there freedom to choose among options and still be in His will?

Does it depend on whether or not He has called us to a specific path?

Is God ever disappointed in us?

What would Ezekiel say?

Is He ever angry with us?

What would Jeremiah say?

Does He ever remove from us the blessings He has promised us?

Why did He say Jerusalem would not fall, and yet it did fall?

Does he overpower our will and our faculties and our ability to choose sometimes?
What would Nebuchadnezzar say?

Will God redeem our poor choices?

What does that look like? Undoing them?  A change in direction? A new beginning? A new creation? A new plan?

Or did He know all along that we would make wrong choices and even in our acts of disobedience or weakness or confusion does He choose to bless us even as He disciplines us?

Is the best choice to let God choose for us?

Or does a greater union exist where when we yield to God so fully and so purely He can entrust us with the freedom to choose in righteousness?

How do we enter into that?

Does He experience joy in our co-creating with Him?

Is that what it looks like when freedom and creativity and power and beauty find their full expression?

Is that what Eden was supposed to be like?

Did God open up the opportunity for sin and redemption simultaneously?

What if the tree was staked before the apple was ever picked?

I wish I had Eve’s opportunity.

Might I have chosen differently?

Of course not.  We would have all chosen the same thing that Eve did. 

Says who?

But what about Adam? What about the Snake?  What about God?

How much did their choices impact the outcome of the story?

What if they had chosen differently?

Or didn't they have choices?

What if we're the apple in the story?

I wonder what answers Moses, who never entered the Promised Land, might have to my questions.

I wonder how Samson, who bore fruit only in death might have a different perspective.

I wonder what David would have to say about choice, as he prayed God might change His mind about his baby’s death. Would he have the same view as Hezekiah?

What could Pharaoh teach us about how much choice we have over a hardened heart?

Did Peter feel like he was set up to fail? Did he ever have a choice not to deny Christ?

Can we choose differently even after a prophecy has been given?

Is there power in the mere utterance of a prophecy? 
What would Balaam say to that?
Does Joseph believe that every step was ordained or could there have been another way to the fulfillment of the prophecy?

How would Ruth understand the course her life took? Was Boaz always on the horizon or was that birthed only after she chose to follow Naomi's God?
What does it mean that Esther was Queen "for such a time as this?"

I wonder if when asked these questions, they might even disagree with each other in their answers.

Oh, but that’s silly now, isn’t it?

Or is it?

Photos by Bgrace

There's only one place I want to write from.  It's not the only place I do write from, but it's the only place that I should write from. 

It's that place somewhere in the middle of your chest that every once in a while feels like it opens all the way up and if you reached in you could reach forever and never find the end of it.  And somehow, someway the very core of you is open and vulnerable, except that you're in the presence of God and so your safe and no harm can touch you.  You find yourself smack in the middle of reverance, of sacredness, of dread awe.  You don't want to move because you're afraid you might lose it, but you know that it is precisely out of this place that you must move.

Help me to stay there.

Help me to move there.

Help me to be there.

Sometimes

...beauty lies in the imperfections.

Sarah crawled into bed next to me this morning. We had all slept in and the sun was glowing through the curtain next to the bed and warming us with soft light. She smiled sweetly up at me and studied my face. Then she pointed to my cheek and said, "Mom, what are dese?" I sighed and asked, "You mean these lines on my face?" She nodded. "They're wrinkles," I said. "Why?" she asked. "Because I smile a lot," I answered.

"What are dose on Daddy's back?" she asked as she pointed to his skin. "Those are beauty marks," I said of his moles and freckles. "Why?" she asked. "Because he's very beautiful," I chuckled. Then I told her she better go give him a kiss (which is a sneaky way of getting him to wake up in a good mood.) It worked...until Sam came in and mauled him.

Later this morning I made my way up to the gardens and noticed these two distorted flowers sort of spooning each other. They just seemed more interesting than the perfectly splayed ones next to them. Purple blossoms focused in the same direction, one leading, one covering. The soft light warming their folds. More beautiful in their imperfections. Spending the moment in movement together.

The Best Possible Place

I just spent two days at a prayer conference listening to a woman named Marilyn Newburg. I heard a lot of things I needed to hear again. And I heard a few things for the first time. But the most important thing that happened was that I came to blinding clarity of where I am at right now.
The Lord has asked me to put myself in the best possible place to hear Him. He's given me specific instructions as to how I am to discipline myself. And He's told me why, and what will come from it when I do. I actually know His purposes and I know what it will produce. (Perhaps not everything, but I know more than I could without revelation.) He's told me what He will do, and He has shown me my part in it.
I have been given every possible motivation and you know what I feel?
Completely paralyzed.
But I know the only way I want to go from here is forward.
So I am praying that God will strengthen me in my inner being. I do not have in me what I need in order to do His will on my own. I need His help. I need to change. I need to become. I need to yield. I need to grow.
I need prayer.
Thank you for yours.
B

Another Field Trip

Fallen Tree by Alexandre Calame

(photo taken at Smithsonian today)

I had a field trip today. Well, it was actually a few hours of play tacked onto a business trip. My Brazilian Passport was ready and for whatever reason it has to be picked up in person at the Brazilian Embassy, so I made my way to DC this morning. Jean had the girls, so I decided to make a day of it and have some alone time. I like to do Art Museums that way. It's easier to absorb the art in solitude. So after I picked up my passport I decided to wing it and try to find the Smithsonian AND a parking garage. Quem tem boca vai a Roma. (It's a Brazilian expression that loosely translated means if you have a mouth you can find your way to Rome.)

Well, I found the nearest parking garage to the Smithsonian, which wasn't actually all that near. Normally this would not have bothered me, but I hurt my Achilles on Monday at my hip hop class and I have to walk without bending it right now. Thus, I have a fairly cumbersome limp. It doesn't hurt that much, so I decided to brave the walk.

When I have times of solitude, I try to center myself with the Lord and let all the chaos and noise fall to the wayside and really try to hear. So on the way down I drove in the quiet and tried to pray a bit. I remember asking the Lord what this time, this season is about right now. Certain symbols tend to characterize time periods for me, a few years ago it was a cross, but for the last couple of months I've been very drawn to fleur de lis. In some ways it has signified for me a period of sanctification. I acknowledged to the Lord that I know this has been a time where He is teaching me discipline. But I also complained a little bit--this whole discipline thing has been so hard for me that I struggle to feel as close to God. There are times when I just don't want to be so disciplined, and it seems like it's not worth it compared to just being with Him. It feels like its always there, reminding me of how much work needs to be done. I thought about the word devoted--I wondered how devotions came to be called that. Probably because if you were truly devoted to God you wanted to BE with Him. I want to be devoted, not feel like I have to "have devotions!" I feel a bit frustrated, because I don't feel like this is coming very easily, and sometimes I struggle to see the point of it.

I tell you this, because as I left the parking garage and began to walk to the Smithsonian, I again tried to quiet my mind and listen to the Lord. I had been trying all day, it was noon and I hadn't heard anything. I was beginning to feel a bit restless--normally on my solitude days God gives me a bit more. But as I began limping along, God finally whispered a thought into my mind. He said, "How does it feel to have a handicap?"

The question hit me right between the eyes. I knew immediately what God was saying. I was slowed down by my limp. I was awkward. It was beginning to be painful. It was hindering me.

Then I felt His tenderness. It was like He was saying, this discipline that you are learning, this process that I'm asking you to go through, learning to die to the flesh, learning to take things out of your life that you don't need, and put into your life things you do need, learning to live with empty spaces--it's so that you can move without hindrances.


I understood God's kindness. It's not because God is requiring me to be some religious zealot. Not because I'm bound by rules and regulations. Exactly the opposite. He's teaching me to be free. He's strengthening me. He's purifying me. And today, He helped me to see the motivating factor behind it all.

I've prayed for God to use me. I've prayed that He would use my life to great effectiveness. In powerful ways. But I've also prayed that God would never give me power without purity and love. I've seen the abuse of it--and I can't stand the thought of it. Those things must come first. And I know that He is answering me. But I need to continue to keep that before my eyes. To focus on the WHY. Lest I forget and think this is about food. Or simple self-denial. Or rules.


Thank you for teaching me Jesus.

Thank you for beautiful paintings.

And the people that paint them.

Space

It's interesting. I've been feeling a strange pain the last few days. But I haven't been able to put my finger on it. It's not a pervasive one. In fact I don't notice it until all is quiet. Which frankly isn't very often--my few trips alone in the car in silence; right before I go to bed or when I wake up. It's not a pain I could connect to anything in particular. Until tonight.
For the past week I've kept to my eating plan really well. (Except last night--but I had permission and needed fish, so two of my closest girlfriends and I splurged at Devons.) What's been strange is that it hasn't been hard. Not nearly as hard as it was before. Like the Lord has helped me get over the hump or something. Tonight, I didn't really feel full, and thought maybe I should eat something more, but nothing really appealed to me, so I brushed my teeth so I wouldn't graze, knowing that I would be feeling on the empty side.
Matt's been exhausted so I tucked him in early and then went to sit with Sarah until she fell asleep. I was itching for something. Like a good novel, or video, or even mindless TV. I didn't really feel like reading my Bible or studying or even praying, in an "I'm too restless to concentrate" sort of way. Being quiet with the Lord felt almost uncomfortable. Like I wanted something more but I didn't think I'd get it.
Since Sarah was taking her time falling asleep, I decided to pray through it. As I was thinking about my food, and the emptiness I felt, I realized it was the same restlessness I was feeling emotionally. Like none of the options before me were appealing, but I was still wanting something. But nothing felt better than reaching for just anything.
Finally I began to see the source of my pain. It's the emptiness. I'm being stretched in this way beyond what I'm used to. Food is just one of the ways. I've been trying to figure out the feeling of distance I have right now with God. The last few months have been almost like a dream. I can't explain to you the wonderful experiences and gifts that have been poured out on me and my family. Underlying it all is just a great sense of joy and contentment and BLESSING. But recently I've noticed a change in my spirit. Like an uncomfortableness in the midst of it--a sort of distance. Not a distance caused by sin or lack of interest. An emptying. A making of space.
What God is teaching me is the discipline of not filling the space--even with "God stuff."
Not with food, or movies, or even Bible reading.
It's actually painful.
But now that I realize it is a good pain I can lean into it and ask the Holy Spirit to use it to do His work in me.
I'm trying to sit with God in the quiet. Not expecting or waiting for Him to speak. And practicing not even trying to speak to Him just to fill space. Because now I understand what the lesson is. I'm letting all that pulls me lose its power until I am at rest and in peace in the open space. I wrote something about this a long time ago I need to dig up. Later. Now I'm going to go feel the emptiness.
It's a good thing.

Composing

Vulnerable, unedited by Bgrace

You ask me to walk in dark places

You call me to be your light

Lord, will not the darkness taint me?

Shall I not be consumed?

For my heart is corruptible

My body destructible

My spirit so vulnerable, so easily wounded.

How can I stand?

And then I heard her sing:

I will not be moved. And I'll say of the Lord,

You are my Shield

My Strength

My Portion

Deliverer

My Shelter

Strong Tower

My very present help in time of need.*

*Lyrics in italics are from

Hillsong United, You Are My Shield

Yesterday, I was standing in church having a hard time worshipping. It wasn't exactly the state of my heart. It's just that I've become hyper sensitive to worship leaders drawing us so much into their experience of worship that it's hard to have your own. There is something about it that feels manipulative. I truly don't believe that is their intention. And I'm sure I've been guilty of the same thing in the past. But it doesn't change the fact that there are moments when I don't feel like I can honestly participate. (One of the things I really appreciate about Matt, the Worship Pastor, is that he has a gift for not intruding on people's spiritual space to worship--he wasn't there yesterday.) But I digress.

So instead of singing, my thoughts turned to the conversation I was having with Matt (my husband) on the way to church. I was sharing with him about some things that have been going on at work. I really do believe the Lord has led me there, and I love my job, but sometimes the darkness I encounter when I'm there overwhelms me. Honestly, it's really hard not to get drawn into it all.

My frustration with the situation turned itself into a prayer, and the lines sort of found a rythm I wanted to remember, so I sat down, fished some paper and a pen out of my purse and became oblivious to everything else around me. I finished writing the last question and the chorus of the song being sung broke into my thoughts. I realized it was the perfect answer to the question I had just written.

My heart opened itself tenderly, realizing that the Lord had answered me and met me in a very personal way. I was able to respond in a spontaneous and deeply meaningful worship.

It reminded me of Ken's hand dance of reciprocity. He put his hands up and first moved his right hand--it was more agile, more flexibe in it's dance compared to the left hand. But the left hand was often stronger, steadier--helpful in supporting so the right hand could be free. He moved his hands beautifully and created a meaningful picture of how one hand moves and encourages a response in the other which in turn moves the other hand to respond to it. It can be a picture of people in relationship, or a picture of us in relationship with God.

I moved toward God and He responded, then He moved in response to me and created a response in me.

That's what it's like to dance with someone.

That's what it feels like when I write.