Go see this movie...

It makes you ask yourself great questions.

The greatest one being this...

How do you know a man has really changed?

And it answers it beautifully:

When He gives up everything he has,

at the very moment he has everything to lose,

for nothing in return.

You won't regret it.

Midnight Lessons

photo by Bgrace

"If you carefully observe all these commands I am giving you to follow--to love the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, and to hold fast to Him--then the Lord will drive out all these nations before you, and you will dispossess nations larger and stronger than you. Every place where you set your foot will be yours. Your territory will extend from the desert to Lebanon, and from the Euphrates River to the Western Sea. No man will be able to stand against you. The Lord your God as He promised you, will put terror and fear of you in the whole land, wherever you go."

I woke up tonight from a sound sleep and all the anger I've been feeling over the last few days just rose right up to the surface of my soul. I didn't know I was angry, it's funny how sometimes things get clearer in the middle of the night.

And here's what I realized. I should fight my battles upward before I fight them outward.

The whole part about the Lord driving out nations larger and stronger than you has to begin with a deep assurance, a deep realization, a deep confidence, a deep rest, and a deep trust that where you set your foot is where He wants you to go.

In my anger, I'd spiraled all the way back to the whole, "Why aren't you defending me God?" pit I often find myself in. And after I'd screamed myself tired (silently of course, so as not to wake anyone) the still small voice came.

"Defending you to whom?"

My soul quieted immediately, like the boat after the quieted storm. I wanted God to defend me to others, but what I needed was for God to reassure me before Him. When that peace which surpasses understanding began to seep into my spiritual pores, I realized I should have never gone into battle without it. In fact, I realized that with that reassurance the battle would have been unnecessary. (Which tells me that I was fighting for myself, not for God.) Because when I am at rest in God's work in my life, my striving ceases, and my need to protect myself dies. If I had been able to bow out of the center of the circle, and allow God his rightful place I would have been strong enough to walk forward simply speaking from the storehouse of the things I have learned so that I might be helpful. Doesn't that rest that He gives have a power in itself? Is it perhaps one of the ways God shows His presence? I didn't heed the "Hold fast to Him." I started to try to hold on to myself. And then I got mad at God for not helping me.

Thank you, God, for wrapping my arms back around You.

The war we wage on the inside is so much weightier than the one we wage on the outside. It can destroy us, or it can give us the power to walk through the bloodiest of battles unharmed. And the difference lies in whether or not we walk not only in truth, but in the assurance that our foot goes where He leads us. I am reminded over and over again how often and how deeply the journey leads us back to where it began.

Back to Faith.

Please strengthen mine, Lord. Please strengthen mine.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."

Bowing

Bowing

Photo by Bgrace

Aromantic Poem

Matt, at the original Starbucks

Pike Place Market, Seattle

Dear Joe,
I miss you so.
I perk up from my dreams
Picturing those beans
Alone in the dark, cold cupboard.
Our rendezvous
Are now through.
But throughout the morning grind
You’re always on my mind
And all I want is to have a
Time alone with java,
Sugar, and Cream
In my caffeine.
Instead my mug
Gets a hug
With a bag of tea inside.

Until we meet again,

B

Blessing--The Lesson

So I've been putting this post off for a while.

For so many reasons.

One being that I can't quite put what I'm feeling about all of this into words. Another reason is that I feel like I'm in the middle of the lesson...and I'm aware that anything I write about this subject now will probably seem unfinished as I live further through the lesson. But mostly its because I'm in that place where I'm not really sure I want the lesson. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say I'm still kind of wrestling with God over whether or not I want the blessing.

But I guess that IS the lesson.

This is all so tied up inside me that I'm not gonna be able to write it well. I'm not apologizing. I'm just letting you know up front. Maybe after the lesson I'll tidy it up a bit. But the point of this post isn't to teach. It is to express. Each type of writing serves it's purpose, so I've heard. Hopefully that applies even to random sentences strung together with emotion.

So here's how I see it:

When Gabriel paid Mary a visit and told her she was blessed...he didn't exactly tell her the whole story. Mary, yielded to God in her heart as she was, responded with, "May it be unto me as you have said." Or something like that. And that was very good. God knew when He picked her how much she was devoted to him. He knew she would say yes.

But there's this part of me that says, "Hmmmmm, I'm not really sure that was very fair." Quite frankly, I wonder how many times along the journey Mary thought the same thing.

What I'm saying is that Mary did not have an accurate understanding of what she was signing up for. And the other thing I'm saying is that God was ACUTELY aware of that. In fact, He did it on purpose. Why? Because as Jack says, "You can't handle the truth."

Ok, so I'm being a bit callous in the way this is coming out. Of course, unlike me, Mary was chosen as the Mother of God, so perhaps she didn't feel any of these things (though I doubt that.) And I don't really mean to be callous. The truth is, in some ways it was a protection.

Yes, God's not telling Mary what was up ahead was a protection for her.

Mary had to grow into her calling. Her role. Her understanding of what it meant to be the Mother of the Messiah, the Mother of the King, the Mother of the Lamb. Can you imagine if Gabriel had filled her in on the crucifixion right then and there? She's still dealing with, "How exactly do I tell Joseph and my parents and how am I going to keep from getting stoned to death?" I'd say not telling her about the whole crucifixion part was a kindness.

Still, there's this part of me that's feeling like God was a bit (dare I say it) unfair to Mary.

Like she signed a contract she wasn't allowed to read.

How many times in her life did she feel that things were going horribly wrong, like what was happening was not exactly "part of the plan?"

When her son was wandering off for days at a time and shrugging her authority? When she thought that Jesus was crazy? When Judas betrayed Jesus? Or was it only at the crucifixion when all of what she went through seemed like a complete sham?

OF COURSE it wasn't. But God didn't exactly explain that what He had said to her all along was true...it just didn't look quite like she pictured it. She was given the blessed son she was promised but it wasn't the blessing she thought it would be.

It was better.

Is that part of the grace? That God asks us to receive something wonderful, but terrible too. Something so great it is beyond our ability to imagine, but that will pierce us so deeply it will forevermore change us. Perhaps it is precisely that wound which enables us to enter into the blessedness. That somehow being blessed is not a moment but rather a birth, a process, a becoming, and an entering into all in one?

And from where I sit right now, when I look at all that has been, and all that is, and (as I am beginning to understand more and more) what will be, I'm kind of feeling like Mary must have felt when it began to dawn on her that Jesus might actually die. Or that the kind of King he would be wasn't the kind she was thinking of.

She must have had to unthread quite a bit.

And when you unthread...it's really painful. To honestly go through that kind of pain, there is a pause that must be lived through. It's living through the question of whether or not I am willing to accept the blessing as it is. The blessing that is actually offered instead of what I thought God was offering. And its painful to continue to move toward the God who has wounded me. I have to relearn trust. And this isn't a little thing because it takes some sorting through. I FEEL like I was duped by God. But I wasn't. I FEEL like God lied to me, but He didn't. I FEEL like I followed in every way I was called to, and I did. I feel like those around me let me down, and often they did. I feel like the violence and betrayals and abandonments I've gone through couldn't have been right, and they weren't. I feel like none of that could have been part of the plan, and yet it WAS. All along it was. All along God knew. And all of those things don't seem to add up to the outcome UNTIL God sheds his light and says, "Now look and see what I have for you, what I have told you of all along, how my promise is true." And you go, "OOOOOOH. Now I get it."

But why didn't You just say so in the first place?

The answer is actually fairly simple:

I needed to go through every excruciating step of this journey to be able to enter into this blessing, in its right time, in its fullness.

But can I forgive God for loving me enough to wound me so deeply? And can I offer myself up for more?

Am I willing now to receive the blessing? To let my heart be warmed from its cold grave and my arms open to receive the promise of the God who loved me so much He chose me for this?

The blessing in its full light is always better than what we thought we saw. JESUS was the Messiah for all people of all times and Mary's own redemption came through his death. Jesus was raised up to rule at the right hand of the Father and His glory made known to all. Why wouldn't we say, "YES!"

But there are those in between moments where our hearts are still bleeding from all the tearing that has taken place and we're just not sure we're up for the next leg of the journey. This is the pause I find myself in.

And God is gracious. He gives us time and grace to heal.

I wonder what it was like for Mary to see the resurrected Jesus. To feel all of that horrible despair and desperation and hopelessness melt away into pure joy.

I wonder what it was like for the realization to dawn on her that He was to rule a heavenly kingdom.

I wonder what it was like for her to realize that all too soon He was leaving again.

I sometimes wonder how her heart withstood so much blessing.

But I'm guessing that now, she's probably glad.

New Year

Winter Rose

photo by Bgrace

There is just something about reading poetry in the morning. My mood turns reflective. I got up early because Sarah woke me up. She wanted to watch Caio. She always does. I changed her diaper and turned her video on. Since I slept in yesterday, I got dressed quietly so as not to wake Matt and made my way downstairs. Em was up watching Saturday morning cartoons in the basement (probably since the wee hours, she's such an early bird) and Grace was still sleeping.

I picked up Winter Hours, my new Mary Oliver book that I got for Christmas, and went over to the stove to make myself some tea. Lady Grey. It's my morning drink of choice right now. And I thought about it. I thought about how different that is. How things have changed. How I've changed in so many ways. How this year is going to be so different.

I'm not drinking coffee for a year. Not a bit, not even in chocolate cake. (The best chocolate cakes have coffee in them.) And now I go to the gym almost every day. But it's for such different reasons than I ever tried to go before. I mean, sure, it will be nice to lose the 5 lbs of holiday weight I've gained, but not because I feel heavy. I do want to fit more comfortably back in my clothes. But even that isn't why I go. It's about my heart. And it's about breathing. Plus Dad says I can't climb Mount Katadin unless I can run 10 miles. I'm halfway there Dad...

I like to cook. I've always liked to, but now I'm more interested in preparing food more naturally. Oh, I'm not on an organic kick or anything, I'm too cheap for that. But I love the idea of learning to cook foods more naturally. It's hard to describe, I'm learning not so much what to cook as how to cook. I love to use fresh ingredients and natural seasonings and to make things from scratch as much as is possible. To do it all in a low cost manner, simply, deliciously, and beautifully. Cooking for people is one way I like to bless them. It's one of the ways I show my love. I love it when the girls help me in the kitchen. Grace made the corn muffins we had last night with very little help from me. We served them with butter and honey and they were delicious with our homemade ham and split pea soup (even the girls like it) and blue cheese apple raisin salad. I got a couple cookbooks for Christmas, my favorites are Back to Basics (Barefoot Contessa) and Jaime at home.

And of course, there's taking pictures. Funny how a year ago I never had any interest in photography. Now my camera is a huge part of my life. I take pictures for the sheer joy of it. And it's all about discovery. I learn so much looking through the lens. And it returns the favor by teaching me...about what I see through it, and the one behind it as well.

And I have a funny feeling this year will bring about many more changes in my life.

So much is different and yet in so many ways I'm still the same.

Perhaps in the ways that are most important.

How have you changed this year?

2008 Photo of the Year

Little Lamb

photo by Bgrace

I thought about putting up my top ten photos of 2008, but choosing ten favorites out of the thousands that I've taken this year was just impossible. I have a couple favorites of each of my children and then my children with each other and then Matt. And then there are purely scenic photos that I love and others that aren't particularly photographic masterpieces, but that are very meaningful to me.

I just couldn't widdle it down to 10. But when I asked myself the question, "What is my favorite photo that I took this year?" there was no hesitation in my mind. It was this one. It's got beautiful composition. It was taken in the very back corner of an old stone barn. The girls and I were out looking for sheep one morning and stumbled upon a sheep farm less than 10 miles away. The farmer was so sweet and let us take pictures and then took us back to where a few sheep had just been born. The lamb Emily is holding is only a few hours old.

I had just been given my new camera (for Mother's Day) and I really had no idea what I was doing (even less than now). The light was BEAUTIFUL, streaming in through the window, but incredibly difficult to work with considering all the lighting contrasts in the dark barn. As Emily picked up the lamb by the window, I gasped--the picture before me was so breathtaking but I didn't know how to capture it.

The mother sheep kept stamping her foot at Emily and threatening to head butt her so I didn't have much time. Em was so content to cradle that sheep in her arms and the look of tenderness on her face and the way the sheep just laid his head on her shoulder almost made me cry. It was so beautiful.

It wasn't until after I had taken the picture and looked at it that I noticed the wooden beams forming a cross in back of her.

To me, it was not only breathtakingly beautiful, but deeply meaningful as well. There's so many nuances to the picture...Emily's middle name is Marie--a derivative of Mary. And so the song Mary had a Little Lamb always comes to mind. It is a beautiful representation of Mary, almost still a child herself, but also the mother of Jesus, holding her precious Lamb who came to take away the sin of the world. The cross in the background foreshadowing the crucifixion to come and the light of heaven breaking through the shadows to shine upon them both. The anointing of the lamb so glorious you can barely look upon it.

Oh, I know I didn't take the picture as well as someone else who knew what they were doing could have. I'm sure there was a way I could have corrected the lighting better. But as I looked at the picture, I realized that if it had been corrected some of the nuances might not have stood out so well, and some of the meaning might have been lost. So it may not be the best picture I've taken this year. But it might be the best picture I've been given. It is a picture of the Gospel.

Personally it is a reminder to me of what I have received.

It is a reminder to me of who I am. Child, mother, and lamb.

It is a reminder to me of what I am called to...a life of great blessing; a life of great sacrifice.

Happy New Year, my friends.

May 2009 be full of blessings such as these.