Virgin Snow

Sam--Disturbing the Peace

Photo by Bgrace

"For nature and art are in this way twins:
they are both beautiful and dreadful, and in love with change."

Mary Oliver, Winter Hours

Snow was still settling onto the landscape as I set out for my morning walk.  Sam paced despairingly, unable to fathom why he couldn't join me.  "I'll come back for you soon," I promised with a scratch behind his ears.  I silenced his whines with a firm close of the door.  Sam and I have different ideas about capturing wildlife.  Not that I was particularly set on photographing bird or beast.  This day was for observing, listening, inhaling and embracing the sweet silence of cold peace undisturbed. 
I made my way to the temple hill and faced the wooded slope, conflicted.  The snow perfectly blanketed the hillside before me.  A surge of satisfaction shot through my frame.  I was about to go where none had traveled--at least not since the last snowfall.  Magellan must have felt this times a million. What treasures would I be the first to find?
But there was a sadness too.  My own boots would bear the guilt of crime; the untouched and untainted soon marred with my footprints.  So it is with every step into the untraveled. 
We embark on discovery and risk the uncertainty of the unknown,
anticipating the rewards of a virgin quest; 
To gather up sites unseen and beauties unbeheld;
To bring home an armload of treasures or perhaps a lone, precious jewel.   
Yet the greatest blessing can never be shared,
or carried back.
Once our path is carved along the unexplored,
it is no longer that.
I step forward, upward, without a glance behind.
The pleasure of discovering will exceed anything I find.

*Note: See comments for author's note.

The Sword of the Spirit (edited, from the archives)

Draft and Sunshine by Bgrace

I spent some time alone at a friend's house today. She has a prayer altar in front of a massive bay window. It has this chilled sacred feel to it; a mixture of draft and sunshine. I curled up on the floor beneath the altar with a blanket over my legs and began to pray. I was facing the open room and I noticed that the light through the window was hitting the wooden cross on the sill above me and casting its shadow onto the nearby footstool. I lifted up my hand to grasp the cross in the shadow. A smiled curled up on my lips; it was fun to play with the shadows. Suddenly I was struck by the reflection before me. When I grasped the cross it appeared as if I was grasping the handle of a sword.

What a perfect image of my struggle over the last few days.

What does it mean to carry the sword of the Spirit?

It is a very sharp weapon. Sometimes we mistake our own sword for His.

Perhaps only those who are willing to have their own souls pierced for the sake of others are asked to use it in warfare.

It is a sword that must first be drawn by its cross.

We can only be trusted to pierce when we are willing to be pierced first.

Help me, dear God, to draw my sword whenever You ask me to do so.
Regardless of the consequences, I live to please You, my King.
Help me never to mistake my own sword for Yours.
May I be pierced with Your wrath if I do.

Originally posted on Deep Calls

Nov. 07

Papas da Lingua

This is Papas da Lingua.  Serginho, the lead singer for the band, is a good friend of my brother Daren.  We never did get to go to his concert, but Daren said Serginho promised he would send us tickets the next time he is in NY.  (I'm hoping we'll get to meet him.) Their band does a lot of different stuff but I'm a sucker for their ballads.  The video below is a song that Serginho wrote for his wife. This song rocketed them into fame and was at the top of the charts in Brazil for a long time.  It's easy to see why.  I'll post the lyrics below with a loose translation.  Listen to the depth, range, breadth of his voice as he sings this song.  He's crazy talented. 

Serginho Moah

Youtube Link:

Eu Sei Papas da Lingua

Eu sei tudo pode acontecer
I know so much can happen
Eu sei nosso amor não vai morrer
I know our love won't die
Vou Pedir aos céus, Você aqui comigo
I will ask the heavens, For you here with me
Vou jogar no mar, Flores pra te encontrar
I will throw into the sea, Flowers to be with you
Não sei por que você disse adeus
I don't know why you said goodbye
Guardei o beijo que você me deu
I kept the kiss that you gave me
you say good bye and I say hello
you say good bye and I say hello


Lua Cheia is also a great song--though I prefer them live and scruffy.  Here's another Youtube link:
Lua Cheia Video Clip

Morning Light

I'm overly fond of the sun. Especially the morning sun.  If there's a patch of it to be found I've probably moved myself and maybe even the furniture to curl up in it. 
There's something about it's shine that holds strength, how it's warmth on my skin brings healing, and it's red hue comforts me when I close my eyes and look it straight in the face.
When I started to take pictures I started to "see" light.  I learned that I loved how things look in the morning light more than any other time.  It's not that the setting sun doesn't have a magic of it's own--it's beautiful in it's own right.  But it feels like falling asleep to me and for some reason I'm drawn to the power and joy I find in the rays of the morning.  I was thinking about all of this today as the sun shone through my bedroom window. A few days ago I edited a series of pictures that were taken of Sarah, Em and I in the Brazilian morning sun. I wanted to post them.  They make me smile every time I look at them.  I remembered a poem I wrote some time ago and decided to dig it up.  Amazing--it's one of my favorite pieces ever--probably because I remember how I felt when I wrote it.  And I wrote something new today--it's also about the morning sun, and I was remembering a time I didn't think I'd ever want to open my eyes again, and the Lord said to me, "Nothing's going to stop me from keeping my promises to you."  At the time, I didn't have the strength to believe Him.  Now, mostly I do.
But that's where Psalm 30 comes in.  I read that today too.  So here they are, sort of collaged together.
Blessings,
B
  

Heal me Morning Sun

Beams full of courage and love

"Nothing's gonna stop me,"

He sings at the top of His lungs.

Wrapped in His rays I fall into

Tender warm caresses

Bring life and strength and grace

Generously bless us.

Psalm 30

I will exalt you, O LORD, for you lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me.

O LORD my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.
O LORD, you brought me up from the grave; you spared me from going down into the pit.
Sing to the LORD, you saints of his; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment,
but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
When I felt secure, I said, "I will never be shaken."
O LORD, when you favored me, you made my mountain stand firm;
but when you hid your face, I was dismayed.
To you, O LORD, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy:
"What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it proclaim your faithfulness?
Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me; O LORD, be my help."
You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing to you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give you thanks forever.

Amazing

by Bgrace

sometimes i dance in the kitchen

it's the sun's fault

lighting upon the morning with meaning

but then too

it happens with the moon

i should blame it on the music

poignantly singing my soul

words flowing through deep pools

that spring up

and cascade down

my cheeks

to water a heart

filled with

truimphant joy

deep gratitude

great love

i stretch out my arms

i turn and twirl

without bashfulness

without restraint

i delve in a dance

with abandon

you are my lord

i am grace

Photos of Sarah by Bgrace

Photos of me and the girls by Jean

Ice Blue Tree by Bgrace

Risk (And a Story of True Love)

"I have a question for you."  My Dad and I were in the car.
"What do you call it when there are two truths that don't seem to be able to coexist?" he asked. 
"A paradox?" I answered.
That wasn't the question. Dad had been thinking again.  He started to talk about how God wants us to be responsible; to be good stewards of our lives. How important it is that we make wise choices.  Yet, he continued to explain, it also seems that there are times that God asks us to take risks. There's the paradox: we are called to be responsible yet we are also called to take risks.
"Is it really a risk if God is asking us to take it?" he asked.
I was quiet.  I was also somewhat amused.  God has such a sense of humor. 
Dad waited a bit and then finally asked, "So do you have any thoughts about this?"
"Actually, Dad, I've done a lot of thinking about this. I can try to explain to you what I've learned about this over the last few years, but it may get a little muddy."
What I said was something like this:
I do believe that when it comes to making decisions--about what we are to do, where we are to go, how we are to live, what choices we are to make--if we carefully and consistently seek God over time, He will give us guidance. When He does, it is our choice to listen and follow as He leads.  
I also believe that God calls us to take risks.  It's important to define what I mean when I say risks.  I used to believe was that if God called me to take a risk, it was because He was going to guarantee the outcome.  My reasoning went something like this: Since God knows the end from the beginning, He wouldn't ask me to do something if He didn't know it wasn't going to work out exactly as He planned.  Thus, when things didn't turn out as I expected them to, I had two options to choose from: I got it wrong, it wasn't God who asked this of me.  OR God set me up to fail, God wasn't faithful to me. 
I don't see things that way anymore. Though I believe God asks us to take risks, I don't believe the blessing isn't necessarily in a pre-ordained outcome. The blessing is who we become as we take the risks that God asks of us. God's faithfulness to us isn't necessarily the same as God working things out as we and even He may have wanted them to.
(Sometime I will write more about how when God brings a work into being, He guards that work and continues to bring it to fruition even though it may take many twists and turns along the way.)
Amy Carmichael often wrote about how only love is eternal.  Only that which is done in love lasts.  I used to think I understood what that meant, but I really didn't. That's OK, sometimes God gives us the opportunity to learn the lesson better the second time around.
See, when we choose to risk with God, we must say, "If you want me to put it all on the line again, I will risk. Not because of what will happen, but because of what could happen, because I am willing to love that much, and because I believe You are calling me to follow You and to love like You do." The decision and the actions that follow, when done in submission and love, are the eternal treasure.  The risk, the act of love, the cross is the blessing.  We become a person more capable of living out the love of God. We have the opportunity to love like Christ loved us. Whatever the result of our decision in the temporal, it can never take away the value in the eternal of what we give out of love.  So there is only a temporal risk, never an eternal risk when we act in obedience and love toward God and others.
"It's kind of like a girl trying to decide if she should marry a guy with a history of addictions," I said. 
"You know, it's funny you should say that," my Dad responded.  "I was just talking with Michael and Mandy and they were over at John and Mary's house.  I asked them if they knew their story and they had no idea. They were shocked when I told them." 
"Do you remember me telling you about John and Mary?" 
It came back to me then.  I hadn't thought about it in years, hadn't remembered their names, but suddenly I knew exactly who he was talking about.
"Tell me their story again, Dad."
 He did. It goes like this:
Before John came to know the Lord he lived a very promiscuous lifestyle.  He showed up at the church my Dad was working at and soon gave his life to the Lord.  He was one of those people who just grew like a wildfire.  His life changed dramatically and he was always hungry for the Word.  His testimony was very compelling and people really loved to be around him.  After some time, John became interested in a girl named Mary who attended the church.  She was a single mom and with the blessing of the church and her family, they began dating.  They eventually became engaged and set a date to be married.  They got their blood tests needed for their marriage certificate.  John got a notice saying that he needed to come in to meet with a health official and to get further testing.  It was then he found out he had AIDs.  It came as a complete shock to him. He had no doubt he had contracted it because of his earlier lifestyle. 
John was distraught.  He came to my Dad and was just beside himself as to what to do.  He had not even told Mary, and at that point, didn't even know how long he had to live.  My Dad was blown away. He remembers his first thought was that if John really loved Mary, he would do the honorable thing and walk away from her.  Agree to just be friends.  But he didn't say that to John.  Instead, he told John that Mary should hear about all of this from him.  He promised to pray for and with John throughout the week. 
That week John told Mary.  Mary cried.  Then they prayed together. 
This is what happened that week.  They went to the health department together and learned about the disease and about the risks.  Mary understood the risks involved in marrying a man with AIDS and the limitations it would put on their relationship. She also knew that she loved John.  More than that, she became very convinced that God wanted her to marry John.  John too came to accept it as God's will for them.  She and John sought the blessing of their family and the church.  My Dad said that by the time they were married, he had complete peace about it, he had no doubts as to whether or not it was a wise decision.
John and Mary have been happily married for some years now and John is very healthy.  The disease has been under control and only has to take a very low dose of medication.  John has been a very good father to Mary's son as well.  God has blessed them in many ways.
As I thought about their story, I found myself asking one question. Would Mary's risky decision have meant anything less to God if she had gotten the disease?  Or if John had taken ill and died?  Would her love have meant less to John?  Of course not.  Her choice was not based on the outcome she was hoping for, but out of submission and love for God and for John. 
The way I see it is this, nothing that she can lose temporally could ever compare with what she has gained through loving. What an amazing gift she was able to give John.  Can you imagine having the opportunity to give the person you love that kind of gift?  She was giving him Christ. 
When we give Christ, there is no risk in that.  It can never be taken away. It is an eternal gift.  It outlasts even us, even our resolve, even our humanity.

God, my prayer is that I would love like You do, and continue in Your love even when the risks You ask me to take don't always return earthly rewards to me.
And someday...it'd be nice to have both.

Perfect love still casts out fear.

"When you have shut your door..."

"Cardinal in flight"

by bgrace

"But you, when you pray, go into your inner room,and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees in secret will repay you."

Matthew 6:6

 

"Go into your inner room..."
The innermost room of your house.
The innermost room of your soul.

"And when you have shut your door..."
There's something that can happen when you are alone with God that otherwise doesn't happen.

My private space becomes

A sacred space

A shared place

I enter alone and yet find myself before You

Bowed,

Drawn,

Joined in love.

Listening, open, receiving

Your light, presence, power, words,

The ministry of the Holy Spirit from above. 

(Loosely) Gathered Thoughts

photo by bgrace

I feel ungathered.

Like I'm the huge pile of dirty laundry I've scooped up off the hallway floor. I need to get it down the stairs to the washer but I keep dropping Matt's socks and little girl's panties and old T-shirts. Every time I bend over to pick them up something else falls. I want to gather up all of me and offer it up to You.
So how do I keep from dropping pieces of me on the stairs?

I wrote this paragraph in my journal on May 15th, 2009. God was doing a lot of deep soul work in me. The kind that's so profound I didn't understand it and couldn't even discern what I was feeling. But I knew I didn't want it to stop. I knew that it was good.
I was frustrated though, because on the surface--the part of me that interacted with the rest of the world--I didn't feel the same level of spiritual depth. I didn't feel very "holy." So I worried there was something wrong, something I needed to fix. If God was working in me so deeply, shouldn't there be lots of sparkling clean clothes folded neatly in my laundry basket?

I continued,
I'm pretty sure You are sinking down quite deep in me so that when I am finally able to gather myself it is from the very bottom up. I don't believe I have ever felt this way before. So close to You in the deep and so far from You on the surface. I don't know how to grasp the surface while holding You in the deep. It's like my inner spirit feels Your presence so deeply, so heavy, that I don't feel like I know how to live in the outer world and not sever that connection.

As I was rereading this today, I realized that at the time, I was having difficulty trusting God with me, with my spiritual journey. It was not that my arms needed to get better at handling the laundry. Rather, I needed to trust that yielding to His work in my life and cooperating with Him was my part.  It was all that He was asking of me in that time. I needed to trust that His arms were coming beneath me and gathering me up and taking care of all of my pieces with infinite wisdom and care. I needed to let Him work in the areas He wanted to and release myself from a sense of responsibility to get the rest of me together in the meantime.

A week earlier, the day after I had seen Rev. Mary, I had woken up with a nursery rhyme in my head:
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn't put Humpty together again
And then this came to me very clearly:
"But the King can."

One thing I've learned throughout the last few years is that what God is doing is usually much broader and much deeper than what I can see at first glance. We're so concerned with tidying everything up. God's not in such a big hurry to make things look "presentable." When He makes us whole again, He works at the source of things, not necessarily the surface.

These were the last lines I wrote on May 15th:

What kept me connected to you all this time has been pain. The pain reminded me of You. The pain drew me to you for comfort and for healing. The pain drove me to seek truth and holiness. Now I must have another force of connection. There is only one other force that is strong enough. The connection must be love. Your love for me and my love for You in response. But can it be protected? Protected from guilt, fear, shame? Protected from my fear of imperfection? Protected from sin, from callousness, from my selfishness, from irreverence?
What so often severs that connection--that deep being with You--is guilt and shame. Discouragement and frustration so easily crowd out intimacy as I recognize how far I am from becoming like You. Like Adam and Eve I allow myself to be driven away--to hide and cover myself. And yet, being with You is the surest, most powerful way of being changed into Your likeness. So how can I reconcile this?
You have already taken care of that. It is reconciled in grace. I can be with You in the midst of my imperfection. I can deeply abide with You in my undeserving condition because when I abide with You I abide in grace.
The wonder of the power of grace. Amazing.
What does this say about my relationship with others?
What connects us to each other are our thoughts, our memories, and our shared paths. What if love allowed the connection between us to be formed not just from memories of the past but of hope for the future? What if grace allowed us to see our loved ones through the eyes of redemption?
What if our belief in them and in God's work in their life--our eyes of hope and faith--what if that in itself gives power for them to change? Isn't God's belief in me and work in me that which enables me to change?

I'm Charlie Brown
Lyin' on the ground
Lucy's holding the ball
We're Humpty Dumpty
After the fall
All the King's men can do nothing at all
But maybe the King can
Put us back together again

Hedge

photo by bgrace

"Do you believe that God has a hedge of protection around you?"

It was the question my Dad asked the congregation Wednesday night. It was Thursday morning and we were talking in the sitting room off the kitchen. Just me and my Dad, sharing our thoughts about Scripture. I like doing that with my Dad. If I listen carefully enough to the Spirit while we talk, I almost always learn something. He had preached on Job the night before and was talking about how God gave Satan permission to take everything away from him--every thing but one. There was a hedge of protection about his life. And my Dad says thoughtfully, "I think God has a hedge of protection around my life. Not necessarily around my possessions--my house, my car--those could be taken away. But around my life."
I was fairly quiet. Dad went on to talk about how God allowed Job's reputation to be taken from him, but I was still processing his last statement. I tend to shy away from most "always and never" theology. I believe that sometimes God does allow the lives of His Saints to be taken. And sometimes God does protect our possessions.
But not always. I found that out the hard way a couple weeks ago. My computer got a virus. I lost all of the writings and photos I had saved to my hard drive. It was a tough blow and the fact that I didn't back them up was just plain careless of me. I was tempted to be really grieved by it all, but as I sat with the Lord in the quiet I felt like He reassured me that what was important was the message in me, not what I had put into neatly typed out passages. Its source is in Him. Perhaps what was written was somehow shallower than what is to come. The pictures though--especially of my kids--nothing will be able to replace them. I do have many of them backed up and I have most of the scratches and scribbles my writings came from in my journals. Perhaps they will come together even more beautifully the second time around. And there are always more photos to be taken. Maybe they were a sort of rough draft, maybe what comes now will be richer and more mature. I'm very thankful I have my posts. Perhaps there was a hedge around what was important after all.
Friday morning Jean and I took Em to the Central Market for a special outing. We were going to take the train in, but since I wasn't sure about my stomach my Dad drove us into the city. We had fun looking at fish, fruit, cheese, roosters--all stuff we couldn't take with us. Then we enjoyed some cafe com leite and brigadeiros at a cafe while we waited for Daren to pick us up. Mom, Dad, and the girls met up with us for lunch and Mom and I discussed our options for the rest of the day.
It was all so normal. Insignificant almost. Mom offered to take Em home on the train. I needed to burn photo CDs for my Dad at Daren's, so that meant it would be helpful for Sarah to go with Mom. But Em and Sarah together would be a little much for Mom on the train so it was decided Jean would go with them. That being settled, the question was, what about Grace? If she went with them there would be too many people to fit in the taxi to the train station. So Grace could either go back with my Dad or she could tag along with me. Daren would take us back to my parents later that afternoon for Grace's Birthday party.
I've been thinking about why I made the choice I did, and honestly, I think I just wanted Grace to be with me. She's so easy when it's just her (and no sisters to fight with.) I enjoy her company. But I wonder if she had been whiney or difficult that day, maybe I would have encouraged her to go with my Dad so I could have a break.
But that's not what happened.
About two hours later, I was watching a Djavan DVD in Daren's living room when the phone rang. I wasn't really paying much attention. He walked in the room and said, "Becky, Dad's been in a really bad accident. He's ok, but the guy in the other car is on the way to the hospital." Shock has a way of numbing your emotions when it settles in. The details were all a bit fuzzy but I held on to the "Dad's ok" part. Over the next few phone calls the event came more into focus. Dad was pulling up to the train station to pick up Mom, Jean, and the girls and didn't realize that he didn't have the right of way. He was trying to see the girls in the crowd and never saw the stop sign. A car slammed into the passenger side of the car. He was hit hard and shaken up quite a bit, but there were no visible injuries. The passenger in the other car hit his head hard on the roof and had to be taken to the hospital.
Daren drove Vivi, Grace, and I back to my parents’ house. He put some music on and Grace laid her head on my shoulder. I held her close as she chatted quietly about her 10th Birthday party. So many details hovered around the edge of my mind. I would have to get on a plane in less than 12 hours. I had a lot of packing left. We now had one less car to get to the airport. Two small ones weren't going to cut it. Dad had broken a law and injured someone--here they treat that a bit differently. People also seem to be more likely to sue Americans. I wondered what that would mean for him. My Mom was sure to be maxed out with anxiety. I knew everyone would want to pull it together to celebrate Grace's Birthday--all the decorations were already up and the girls would be disappointed if we didn't. I wasn't ok with the fact that my Dad hadn't gone to the hospital to get checked out.But those facts weren't nearly as front and center in my heart as the "could have beens."
I could have lost my Dad.
Do you have any idea how much I love my Dad? I'm not up for that right now. "Lord you know how much I can handle," I prayed. (I realize this sounds a bit self-centered, but I am writing about what I was feeling as opposed to what perhaps I should have been feeling.) And then the thought I'd been avoiding the last few hours began to seep its way out through my tear ducts.
Grace could have been in the car.
She tries to weasel her way into the front seat every time we drive somewhere now. Grandpa isn't exactly the best at saying no to his granddaughters either. I could have so easily chosen for her to go with him. I could have felt like I needed a break from my kids.
But that's not what happened.
When I walked in the gate my Dad was swaying gently in the hammock on the front patio. I swear hammocks have healing powers. I watched as everyone gave him gentle kisses. He was smiling. He's almost always smiling. I waited until everyone else had walked into the house and toyed with the idea of asking him if he would let me lay hands on him and pray a prayer for healing. I settled for praying silently and laying my hand on his arm.
I looked at him and said, "So what do you think, Dad? Does God have a hedge of protection around you?" He laughed quietly, "Yes, He does."
"But not your car," I said with a grin.
"I've been thinking about the whole idea today," he started to explain. He had been reading the book of Daniel that morning and when he was reading about Nebuchadnezzar and his dream, he noticed that the tree, though cut down, was protected by bronze and iron. Like there was a fence around it. "Do you know why?" he asked.
"Because even though he sinned through pride and God would allow him to suffer for seven years, God would protect his kingdom and his authority. God would restore to him all that was lost." I replied.
"Yes," my Dad said.
It's always nice when we agree.
But then he started on some election rabbit trail. I waved my hand at him and headed inside figuring if he could preach for 10 minutes he was just fine.
Yes, God put a hedge around Nebuchadnezzar.
God put a hedge around Job.
Around Grace.
Around Daniel.
And around me.

Sometime I should write more about how God protects Himself in us. He doesn't allow His words and His work to be stolen away. He puts a hedge about it. Maybe that's part of the whole sanctuary idea. I'll have to chew on that some more.
Blessings to you in the meanwhile.
B