Gifts from Grief

Last Friday, I spent all day decorating our house for Christmas.  Our tree had been up for a week and the kids' winter break was about to begin.  The prospect of sixteen days off sure made me merry and bright! And as I opened the boxes and bins of old decorations, they became fresh with meaning. I framed holiday cards given to us in past years and placed them around the house. Some of them represent new friendships that were painful to leave so soon. Other pieces hold memories with my family long ago yet felt different today. Pondering the gifts of the years filled me with joy.

Grief has also had its place, so I've pondered it. We won't be home (in NJ) for the holidays. That's only ever happened once, the year Owen was born. Even then, he and I flew home for a visit just weeks into the new year. Today, we have no idea when we might return.  to that place and a circles of circles of family and friends that are changing now without us. "Even when you're moving for positive reasons... moving is a major grief event," says Russell Friedman (Grief Recovery Institute). "Rather than avoiding the feelings of grief, lean into them... Grief is the way out of the pain."

Most of us on Earth are either grieving or living not far from grief. Some can't be home at the holidays, some are truly alone. Others grieve secretly while some are unaware that grief is the secret they hold. Sometimes it comes by utter devastation or by sudden loss. Other times it's simply a bi-product of the natural course of life. No matter, grief is painful. Whatever the circumstance, Friedman's definition will fit:     

 "the conflicting emotions caused by the end of or change in a familiar pattern of behavior."

Not long after our August move, a friend of ours kindly reopened the door to permission when she said I should take all the time I need. Change takes time to navigate. Even really good change. We already enjoy so much about our life in Colorado that people are confused sometimes when I say I'm doing well. It doesn't mean I don't have grief to walk through, that many moments are not hard. I'm just not depressed about what I don't have, about the distance, or even about the grave financial struggle that's come with relocating.

Grief doesn't exist in an emotional vacuum apart from peace, beauty, love. Likewise, there's a joy that is only found once we've known loss. It's why I'm thankful for past seasons of grief, why we can celebrate even in the midst of sorrow. On December 23, 1862, Abraham Lincoln wrote a letter of condolence to the daughter of an old friend, William McCullough, who'd just been killed in the war. Lincoln wanted to assure her even in the depths of anguish: "The memory of your dear father, instead of agony, will yet be a sad sweet feeling in your heart, of a purer, and holier sort than you have known before." We may never be the same after mourning, but we can become more.  

Perhaps through grief we find a friendship that stands the test of turmoil. Maybe after extensive sicknesses we experience profound health for the first time. A tragedy may restart our hearts with a fresh focus on what's really important. One season of grief may uncover a former loss we were never able to process till now. These are gifts we find even as our days bring loss.

Here we are at Christmas. This season enunciates the Greatest Gift ever to come from emptying and ultimate loss.  God himself would become a child and suffer all that man could, in order to make us whole. Wholly his. Rejected, despised, a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief... Jesus the Son and Light of the World knows our pain personally and always offers more of himself in the dark places. A letting go can make room. 

Rainer Maria Rilke famously spoke, "Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final." Here is a poem of his, in the same vein.

LET THIS DARKNESS BE A BELL TOWER

Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,

what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.

And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.

You are here. You are alive.
You and I.
Let's keep going.

A can of beans

Oh, summer... You and your beach days and swimming pools and bronzed skin and getaways.  You have barbecues and church camps and lightning bugs and late nights, lazy chillin' on a porch.  Nice is the break from the schooling pace and I welcome the shift that work takes.

But oh, summer... When your heat can mean a very dry land, why cast that same spell in our pocket each year?

Kenn's been our food shopper since summer came.  I take care of the menus and grocery lists and have been extra frugal and simple in planning, knowing our income is stretched very lean again. (Or is it "still"?) This week, I picked a recipe for an easy sweet and sour chicken that called for one can of green beans. I can do better than that, I thought. We've got 'em growing fresh in our backyard... but the plants have barely yielded two servings a week... maybe it'd be wise to put a can on the shopping list.  To run after it at last minute would be a bother, not to mention wasteful... 

I left it off the list anyway. It'll work out, I concluded. And I handed the post-it to Kenn. (I wonder, do you find that attitude a little too easygoing? I know we're talking beans, but maybe you think it's careless? Reckless, to leave things hanging so?)

Today, on the day that ends up being the best to make that sweet and sour chicken, guess what I found in our little garden:

 

Our biggest yield yet.
More than a can of beans. Or a hill, for that matter.

I'm worth
more than a can of beans.
Kenn and the kids are worth
more than a can of beans.
When God says he'll provide, he will.
And trusting him, I get so much more than my pocket can hold.

will Grace suffice?

Hazaiah Kenneth

arrived on Thursday evening

August 18, 2011

weighing a surprising nine pounds and an ounce

measuring twenty-one inches long

God decided.  our family would grow this year.  God decided.  my pregnancy would bring new challenges, new blessings.  God decided.  i would carry this baby full term and he'd be healthy, the biggest yet.

God decided...

ultimately, Only God decides.  and that's the meaning of Hazaiah's name:  the Lord has seen and he decides.  also this: seeing the Lord and believing his decisions.  Hazaiah means to see what Sovereign God has done, to see what he is doing, and to trust it all.  the Good of it all.

this is what God keeps teaching and deeper and deeper goes our trust.  it's not because we're becoming greater and greater, only that he's decided to take us deeper.  into his Grace.  and by his Grace alone we are learning.  with every year we live, every child we're given, every endeavor he leads us into, we find there's more and more we've got to learn.  that's where Grace deepens, as deeper goes the awareness of our need for it.

grace, in fact, is not the first word i'd use to describe our recent days.  more of the waiting combines with postpartum challenges.  recovery is taking longer and the house is getting messier.  even though i can do little homemaking, school's in and kenn is working more outside our home.  too often, sleep deprivation means short tempers and exaggerated emotions.  most often, i am wishing i could get up and get to work: clean the dirt, implement order, corral the kids (and us adults) back to peaceful...

but God decides i am still here 

still needing to say no

  still needing to let go

  still needing Strength 

that from me will never come

  and still needing Grace 

to pardon

i like to read C. H. Spurgeon's Morning and Evening.  today's reflection is taken from Leviticus 13:13, where the law states that a man is declared clean only when his body is found entirely covered with leprosy, head to toe.  here's part of Spurgeon's thoughts on the verse:

"we, too, are lepers, and may read the law of leper as applicable to ourselves.  when a man sees himself to be altogether lost and ruined, covered all over with the defilement of sin, and no part free from pollution, when he disclaims all righteousness of his own, and pleads guilty before the Lord, then he is clean through the blood of Jesus, and the grace of God." 

i needed Jesus to save my life and now i need him in order to live it.  you may have read in previous blogs about God calling me to rest long before my time on bed rest.  it's been close to a year that this particular season of slow has been upon me.  and i've been questioning the Good.  defeat overcomes in this time of feeling hands are tied and of crying, "how long?". but it's the feeling of defeat that ties my hands and it's admitting i really am helpless that sets me free. it frees me to trust in God's decisions and to trust the Good in it all.  only then am i free to act, even when (perhaps especially when) such acting feels like inaction.

"...he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me."  (2 Corinthians 12:9,10)

so be it.

ch-ch-changes

now we are six, no longer five. 

we're a different family than we were last month.  

all of a sudden, 

kenn and i became parents to 

a newborn

a kindergartner

a three-year old

&

a fifth-grader

this newest change of seasons explains some things, 

like the exhaustion kenn feels or how affected i am with my continued need to be still and heal.  

yet it's just a season, 

and these are days that will practically fly away from us.  

these are the days, the moments i could miss 

and one day 

i probably will. 

before school began this week, we took some time to list 

the good memories we have from our summer together.  

these times change us.  

what a great way 

to welcome the change 

while celebrating what's been.  

today i'd like to celebrate what is, 

before another change begs a welcome.

mercy, mercy!

we're waiting!

Baby Boy was due last week.  and there have been plenty of signs that he's on his way.  but when? we ask.  everyone asks.  though the number of weeks to wait has been the same as any other pregnancy, having spent one third of this one on bed rest has made the waiting seem much longer.  after reaching full term, i felt i had reached the goal. time for the prize, right?

instead, Baby is still cozy where he is.  and i get acting like i'm playing the game of mercy.  you know it, it's that kids game. grabbing your opponent's hand, you interlock fingers and push back as he is pushing on yours to try to inflict discomfort, even pain, on one another.  you both push until one of you gives up, crying, "mercy!"

i'm not playing a game with God, who does ultimately decide when this baby will arrive.  he isn't keeping me hanging on to see how much i can handle, trying to torture me and win.  and pleading with him for my way (or whining and pouting to others or even trying all the natural inducers i can) will not push him to answer, "okay, okay, i give in! you'll deliver today."

instead, here's the hand of mercy that has held me.  Mercy has...


preserved this pregnancy
sustained my health and our baby's
allowed a season of beautiful rest 
forgiven my ugly moments and days
provided strength when we were weak
brought help from those around us
produced fruit from our faithfulness
bestowed an excellent family summer
given kenn & the kids lots of quality time
grown kenn as a dad and husband
grown me as a mom and wife
poured rain on the earth and relief from heat
encouraged through the cheers of facebook friends
supplied our need with surprise donations
granted me another day

i've been answered with this kind of mercy over and again.  so i am striving to believe - and striving does involve struggle - that Mercy will carry me through the next hours (or days!) of waiting for our Boy...

make room

something i'm most thankful for this week - besides central A/C - is my renovated bedroom in this old house.  it took more than half a year to complete it, but it is now THE most beautiful spot in our home.  and the spot i'm obviously (yet happily) confined to for some hours during this hot spell.

we still wait for Baby.  and i've begun reading another book, one about the writing life.  the first pages inspired me to pull out a memory and mark it with a poem.

rooms

this week i have
spent in my new room
newly remade
my oasis for days
and these, scorching
outside
the first i have 
ever designed altogether
in adulthood
though many
i drafted in 
early years -
did you have
barbies who lived 
on armchairs 
with hankies for blankets
and tissue box
beds?

it was wooded 
outside that was
drawing board
life-size
where trunks of tree 
were corner posts
for walls marked 
off by roots
exposed
stumps and logs
made sitting places
brier and branches
divided spaces
each with carpets
lush moss or
dried leaves


sister and cousins
or kid-down-the-street
would be well into
role-play
as i'd stay
in visions
adding new touches
to newly made rooms
just as inside
i stay
and envision
new touches to make
to this painted room
a luscious color:
dry leaf


- c. l. atkinson

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practice thanks & wash the glass

i finished reading my eighth or ninth book of this bed rest season: one thousand gifts.  (i do recommend.)  ann voskamp writes of the surprising and profound soul change that happened as she set out to record thanks, numbering one thousand.  somewhere in the middle of reading it, i began my own list, wanting to practice gratitude with a slightly different intentionality.  and to see what God may do.

when i realized bed rest would continue long past the first two weeks, one thing i moped over internally was missing out on gardening.  no planting of new perennials to fill out my flower beds.  no weeding to beautify.  no cheering up the front "yard" that practically sits on the sidewalk and greets every passerby.  even buying a few hanging plants for the porch seemed one thing too many for us to handle.

after two months on rest, i now have a better idea of my limitations.  i can use the stairs, a handful of times per day.  i can make a quick meal or bake an easy treat.  if i don't stand for the duration.  i can go on an errand, if there's an automatic cart to ride.  i can attend a social event, if there's guarantee of relaxation and shelter from the heat.  each of these requires a degree of help from someone else, and no one day can be filled with them.

if i am in a chair, i can even water my plants outside! though i had to let go of my first hopes for the yard, it's not hard to find other ways to enjoy it. and be thankful. this is the key to living fully, at all times, as voskamp teaches through personal story and poetic flare.  here's one picture she paints of this verbalizing of thanks:

      "i speak the unseen into seeing . . .  all the world is window. no material is opaque. if we are willing to see - people, circumstances, situations, relationships - all is transparent.  all of this globe is but glass to God." (emphasis mine)

      
and thanksgiving washes the glass, she says. thanksgiving washes the glass.

so i join countless others who have kept or are keeping gratitude journals and lists of blessings. moment to moment, they choose to set their eyes on the Giver and find more life.

i end with a few of the thanks from my yard:

126. newly molted cicada

 128. morning glories appearing

129. sun on my back

132. smile of girl on bike

181. low humidity

184. low, long reach of the elm over me
 218. a sandbox

219. imagination at work in the Littles

221. how play can be work and work can be play

what IS in a name?

a name nerd. that's what i've been called.

studying names, making lists of them, respelling them, and writing them across a page was a favorite pastime.  i was little more than a babe myself when i conceived my first list.  and when my child-bearing years were literally upon me, the lists had grown to be dozens-long.  i chose names unpopular, ones that seemed to carry more distinctiveness.  the sound or appearance or movement all had meaning.  and its story - the actual meaning - could never be dismissed.

name nerd!  why such an obsession? why did i long to name even when i had no baby coming? was it fantasy?  maybe just a part of my great affection for words?  or perhaps, it was a sign of something much deeper.  i am a creature made to create.  you and i both: we experience the joy of our purpose when creating, bearing the image of the master Artist.  mysteriously, i can participate in Adam's first Garden gift when i name my children - or when i simply dream of it.  alexander schmemann writes,

      "in the Bible a name is infinitely more than a means to distinguish one thing from another.  it reveals the very essence of a thing, or rather its essence as God's gift.  to name a thing is to manifest the meaning and value God gave it, to know it as coming from God and to know its place and function within the cosmos created by God . . . to bless God for it and in it."

the way i name has changed.  our third child was named with two that popped up at seemingly random times, not from my collection.  when i investigated their meanings, finding they matched the promises and truths God was giving in that season, i knew they'd been chosen for her.  my supply has also dwindled over the years - names being used by others we know or just losing their pizazz for me.  as baby four came on the scene, i had only five or six to choose from.  and even those felt bound to be rejected.  makes sense.  i have changed, too.

this baby is coming soon and a name has been given.  i found it when going through a name book that i've had for years.  yet i don't remember ever seeing this particular name.  every time it comes to mind, i am astonished.  how precisely it captures the place where God has led Kenn and me, what he has been teaching us and giving of himself in this season.

name nerd or not, in my finite way i am celebrating the essence of the blessing in this new life.  i'm so excited to introduce him to the world, to speak his name like the people of old.  baby and i have reached 33 weeks!  won't be long 'til we're announcing more of the goodness of our loving Father, the matchless Creator.

unwonted rest

our family has lived as missionaries for 8 years, and last year kenn and i were about to break.  we've had too few vacations or regular respites from a work that is weighty and really doesn't end.  kenn is only employed part-time (with a salary that we are fully responsible for raising), but the actual hours and energy he gives far exceed that part-time status to equal a full-time job. and then some.

meager finances were the reason (or excuse) for often skipping vacations and neglecting to take longer personal retreats.  we're quite aware of how essential it is to live well in order to serve others well.  so despite facing the greatest financial strain we'd yet known, we pledged to add substantial rest into our yearly calendar.  God knows every need and we'd trust each one would be met.  after making that decision, we were overwhelmed with gifts!  suddenly we had an abundance of food, all our bills were paid without compromising other areas of our budget, and we actually had the chance to get away over the holidays! 

then we declared january a mini-sabbatical.  the Spirit quickly sealed in me the need to enter a season of rest, a deeper rest than i'd ever sought.  not knowing what was in store, i sensed it would continue even after our sabbatical ended.  (though i certainly didn't anticipate being ordered on bed rest a couple of months later!)  this journey for me has come to represent a metamorphosis that began years ago and, by God's sweet mercy, will carry on my whole life long.

another commitment that kenn and i made was to take a family vacation before baby number four arrives in august.  it was scheduled for this month after school gets out.  arranged by a dear friend, we'd be enjoying a week at a lake house in the mountains - for FREE.  we've had to cancel since my activity remains restricted, and i have been holding in my disappointment with a bit of angst flashing in and out of my mind.  don't we need this get-away? what can we do instead? will the kids feel gypped? i do. 

still, my thoughts are more occupied with realities like all the help we've been receiving.  we're brought a couple meals a week that usually amount to double that.  friends and acquaintances are visiting who typically don't, and others phone or email to check in.  though shut in most days, i don't feel isolated or lonely.  though exhausted most days, kenn perseveres with a heart that's content.  we (mostly kenn) have extra space for neighbors.  a few have stopped by more regularly and we've had opportunity to meet unexpected needs and to pass on what's been given to us.  a couple of kids from our block have shared in our family times of prayer and Bible reading.  our four-year-old gets to have daddy go on field trips and our youngest has a growing list of regular play dates at others' homes.  kenn takes the kids on excursions without feeling pulled in other directions or overwhelmed with work that's piling up. . .

are you getting the picture?  i just saw it this afternoon.  since kenn's position is part-time and the summer brings a lull in campus activity, he was permitted and encouraged by his supervisor to cut out whatever is needed to take care of us at home.  so he has done so.  this glitch in our plans - my limitations and kenn's total switch in roles - has literally created a break for us.  with more time to have fun together and to breathe in all of these gifts, we're already experiencing a sort of recess before summer's even begun!

momentarily, i had forgotten that all of this life of following Jesus is unconventional, right on down to vacations.

today i recognized God providing yet another alternate way.  he always does, when we are ready to see and to receive!

let my heart sing, my soul dance!

while i listened to Third Circle yesterday, one song hit me right where i am.  i must have left the song on repeat eight times. and though the lyrics ring out promise and the music is jubilant and light, i wept. and wept. every time it played, i wept.

there is plenty to mourn in this earthen existence, and a few of my past and present sorrows surfaced while the song washed through me. but it was the Answer to those sadnesses that made me cry so profusely. consider the verse: 

Lord, I cried out, I cried out to You

You answered me in Your mercy

Your anger was fleeting

And now I will dance in your favor all my life

my heart has been nurtured in the fold of God's people for more than three decades, yet it took a long time before i began to understand this standing that i have, this favor.  it's an unending favor before God only because of the sacrificial love of Jesus.  only Jesus.  when we are faced with pain or grief and our crying out becomes our (sometimes last) attempt at relief, he answers.  in mercy, he answers.  the circumstances may not change, he may not remove the pain, but his presence becomes unmistakable. 

the longer i live, choosing to believe in God's delight over me, the more times i find i'm able to dance through troubles and to sing despite my affliction.  hear me.  i do not pretend all is hunky-dory, put on a mask of happiness and stuff my truest feelings away in a cold corner of my soul.  no, no, please no. i am learning to cry out.  i am learning to accept that my brokenness, my failures, my hurts and my questions are no less important to my Father as my devotion, my triumphs and my personal growth.

this is how God turns our weeping into dancing - not by literally sweeping away the "bad" and promising nothing of sin or destruction will ever infect our lives again.  instead, he declares with promises never-ending, that all that he is is ours.  all of him.  we are chosen sons and daughters, from whom he will withhold no good thing! what better position for experiencing joy than in sad times?  what better way to find life but in the face of death? what better chance does light have to shine than in the darkest of all places? what other way can healing be possible than when there is a wound?

the flood of tears from my eyes was at once both a declaration of hurt, frustration and regret and a song of utter gratitude.  what joy it is to be free to release all of it to the skies!  i live every moment, in the fair and in the unfavorable, under a shower of Mercy and Love.

Let my heart sing for you

And not remain silent

Let my heart sing for you

Turn my weeping into a dance


So dance, dance my soul

There's no reason for you to weep

So dance, dance my soul, 

Make music to your King

------------------

"Dance, Dance" by Kate Hurley, Michelle Patterson.  Registered with CCLI.

an early Christmas gift

last year our family began the tradition of using a jesse tree to celebrate advent.  our pilot run didn't prove to be so memorable, but this year it's surely a highlight of the season.  if you aren't familiar with the concept, it's inspired by the isaiah 11 passage prophesying Jesus' coming: "a shoot will come up from the stump of jesse . . . " typically, a tree or branch of sorts is chosen and for every day of advent one ornament representing a truth or particular story from Scripture is hung on the tree.  all of the symbols and coinciding teachings point toward the gift of God's Son, connecting thousands of years of history to Immanuel's birth.

kenn and i love how engaged the kids have been while we talk about each story, read from the Bible and pray together.  each day we cut out a simple drawing from a free collection i found online.  one kid colors it, one glues it to a paper background that's been tied with thread, and the third hangs it on our tree.  we've covered creation, how sin entered this world, famous prophets and people like king david and ruth.  every one includes a promise of what a Savior brings. last week, R (who is four) started asking about death.  quite exciting, it was no surprise after all the conversations we've had. he and kenn had a lengthy talk - comical at points - about salvation, whom we know who knows Jesus and how everyone dies.

tonight it was my turn to stay with R on his bed after all five of us prayed and kenn had taken A to her room. R and i chatted about the fun day we had and the upcoming visit to his grandparents'.  and somewhere in the middle R mentioned how Jesus can live in our hearts.  affirming him, i asked if Jesus lives in his.  he nodded yes, so i asked if he prayed about it with daddy. "we talked about it," he said.  when i asked if i could pray with him, he responded with that adorable, happy nod of his.  the bashful grin and gleaming brown eyes melt you away.  so i prayed a little prayer that he repeated after me, confidently.  after celebrating a little, he wanted to talk some more.  does so-and-so have Jesus in his heart?  why did mom-mom's husband die?  people put people in dirt.  God goes everywhere with us.  what does God look like?  we even discussed spirits and how eternal gifts are better than toys. (don't think he agrees with that one yet!)

i made sure to bring daddy back so he could celebrate.  then when i sat with O (10 yr) downstairs, i shared the news with him.  i pondered the beautiful things that may be forming in our kids' hearts as we celebrate Christmas this year, and another portion of isaiah came to mind.  chapter 55 says:

"for as the rain and the snow come down from heaven
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;
it shall not return to me empty,
but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,
and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it."

amen.
and MERRY CHRISTMAS to you!

where does our help come from?

on the monday after thanksgiving, i didn't want to enter into work again. resting a bit more over the weekend was really good. i was walking around speedily, getting to work anyway, when i smashed my little toe on a dresser drawer. the same foot i injured just weeks before. slow down, slow down already. i sat on a chair and iced my toe while acacia watched an episode of "the cat in the hat knows a lot about that." amusingly, one whole segment was about learning to go slow like a sloth.

kenn returned from the bus stop and asked me whether i had thoughts regarding the far-too-long-overdue vacation we're hoping to take at december's end. we had sent out a request for prayer, knowing we need God to make that vacation possible. then a friend offered up the possibility of using her parents' lake house in PA for free. boy, that would be a quick and ideal answer. wouldn't it? we gave her the dates that would work for us but found they're the same days her parents will be there for their vacation. i was a little disappointed and actually pondered that our only option had been lost, as if God couldn't provide in another way.

when i said i didn't really know what we should do, kenn started with, "i guess i have to send out another prayer email." it's the type of response we all have when we try to make things happen. reassert oneself. instead, i passionately suggested more petitioning of God himself. no sooner did i invoke the both of us to cry out to God to help us in our need - the need of which God is more than aware - than kenn's phone rang with a message. a woman gave her name and said she wanted to give us money. how should she go about it? we replayed the message, laughing in delight and praise. sure, we didn't know if the call was legit, but we were sure God was answering us and promising provision.

a little while later, i took the time needed to rest my toe as an opportunity to sit in thanks. i looked through the psalms and chapter 146 stood out. so did isaiah 58 with its promises for those who act in righteousness. verse 9 says:

then you will call, and the Lord will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: here am I.

there's more. kenn heard from a coworker that same day that she and her family had gifts for us. it was like an early Christmas when kenn brought home the 3 or 4 bags of sundry items plus cash. on tuesday, our mail included a Christmas card with a check inside. the following day we received another check from the mystery woman who left the voicemail. kenn had returned her call. she's from a local church that has supported us in the past and their women's group wanted to bless us, too. by friday, we discovered that another congregation sent a large gift to our account, making the money we raised for next month nearly double what we typically receive in any given month. our support will actually be at 100%!

an increase like this at the holidays is not the norm for us, and the pay period isn't over yet! however, kenn and i still don't know whether a vacation will be possible. it is by God's grace through this time of "abundance" that we are seeing this unknown with renewed perspective. receiving so much blessing can make you stop, slow down, and give praise Where praise is due. and you realize (again) that you should have been resting in God's goodness already and praising just like the psalmist:

Praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD, my soul.
I will praise the LORD all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
Do not put your trust in princes,
in human beings, who cannot save.
When their spirit departs, they return to the ground;
on that very day their plans come to nothing.
Blessed are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the LORD their God.

He is the Maker of heaven and earth,
the sea, and everything in them—
he remains faithful forever.
He upholds the cause of the oppressed
and gives food to the hungry.
The LORD sets prisoners free,
the LORD gives sight to the blind,
the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down,
the LORD loves the righteous.
The LORD watches over the foreigner
and sustains the fatherless and the widow,
but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.

The LORD reigns forever,
your God, O Zion, for all generations.

Praise the LORD.

considering the birds

earlier this summer, our car appeared in the newspaper after it took two bullet wounds in front of our house. what a way to make the front page. then a couple weeks later, a woman made an illegal turn and smacked into our car, scuffing a rim and denting the same door the bullets hit. her insurance company covered the costs of the repairs plus the rental we needed while the car was in the shop. last week, the rim and the entire door were replaced and now the car looks like new again!

God provides in surprising and sometimes bizarre ways. remember manna, from the story of israel's exodus into the desert? they found this flaky kind of honey-wafer covering the ground like dew in the mornings. and when they needed a drink, moses whacked a rock with a rod and water flowed from it to quench their thirst. though God hasn't (yet) asked us to check the grass for food or hit inanimate objects to get what we need, his M.O. with us often resembles how he cared for these original wilderness people.

in 2000, God sent kenn and me on our own journey into the unknown. we moved from kentucky to california with no jobs, no place to live, and our first baby on the way. our financial status completely changed, and we've pretty much lived below the poverty line since. i can recall opening my front door more than once to see a gallon of milk left on my step. i'd take it to the frig only to realize our milk had just gone bad. there's the time when we didn't know what we'd eat for dinner and in popped our friends with two large bags full of food. sometimes a check would come in the mail from someone who'd been praying for us. the amount would be just what we needed to pay an outstanding bill.

we struggle more than ever these days, and last month was the worst in memory. we literally couldn't go grocery shopping for a month. (no complaints from me about that one! it's not my favorite chore.) it is amazing what a handful of coins can mean in such times. you're also reminded of the luxuries you've grown accustomed to, like dishwasher detergent, a personal washing machine (mine broke), fresh fruit, or variety in your diet. you're compelled to pray for every need and to reconsider what is your daily bread.

all the lessons and purposes in these trials are not yet evident, but God remains faithful. our bills were paid and our mouths were fed all month. my parents invited me to "shop" at their house more than once. a friend who visits a local food pantry started giving us any items he cannot eat. and we attended barbecues and birthday parties a number of times, enjoying our plenty despite the empty cabinets. this month, we have gained another financial supporter. one congregation plans to send a bonus gift and may increase its monthly support. and my in-laws just paid for our visit to their house this past weekend. and that's only the material provision. oh what other blessings God has been weaving all the while . . .

it isn't easy not knowing when or from where your income will appear. except when you concede: it's always and ultimately from your Father Creator, whether you're rich or poor. we are of more worth than the birds, who don't sow or reap or store away, yet eat and live. and life is so much more than food.

what grates on you?

sand is in my bed
it was too late
to bathe little girl
when we were back from the boardwalk

night's sleep broken
it is summer
and it's maybe the fortieth
time because of coughs
and stuffed noses inside
or laughing singing screaming out

tonight's been a bit
of it all
even the cops showed
then a lull came over
maybe prayer was answered
so i climbed back in

with sand in my bed
two hours later
little girl whimpers
and the voices are back by my window

tonight is one of those nights. it's nearly 5 a.m. and i've been awake for a couple hours, even though i actually went to bed early. summer is wild on our block, any time of day or night. in fact, sometimes the same people who wake me at two are still awake when i'm watering the flowers at seven. but this is how i came to write another poem.

i got out my journal to think through my feelings about the rudeness that woke me. that wasn't my first reaction, though. my first was to go downstairs to see who and where they were. i turned on my awfully bright porch light but it didn't phase them. after a bit they did move on, i wrote a bit, the police stopped by, and it got quieter. i went back to bed only to have a poem pop in my head!

i do identify with the poet, naomi shihab nye:

"the things that cause you friction are the things from which you might make art."

can you relate?

flying

our baby girl, who is about to turn two, was born with skew foot. it's not as common or severe as club foot, but as a tiny infant acacia wore full-leg casts and then moved to wearing a brace around the clock. at a year old the brace was only worn in daytime, then we were rid of it altogether this past winter. her skew foot was healed in both feet!

you'd never know acacia had any "abnormality" confining her to some artificial support. she was born sunny. and that sweet disposition has been God's gracious gift to me (and the world!) since her birth. she draws people to her no matter where she goes. i cannot tell you how many have whispered, "she's my favorite," as in secret. and physically? the girl lets nothing stop her. she thought she could just roll off my lap from a chair to the floor before she could even sit up! and how does she walk? running is her MO. her speedy pitter-patter is absolutely adorable to see.

knowing all of this about acacia, i was still concerned about getting her new shoe inserts. her specialist recently prescribed them after seeing how severe her ankles pronate and how flat her feet are. it's been so long since she had to wear a brace, i thought, what if they bother her, hurt her little feet? she might fight us to not wear them. what if it slows her down?

rhys, acacia and i picked them up last monday. the braces were tried on and a few adjustments were made, then we put an extra-big pair of crocs over them. our appointment was over, so we headed outside. there's a great playground right in front of the hospital. we always spend some time there before driving back home. as i walked the kids through that gate, their excitement was spilling out. don't you know, my little girl let go of me and RAN to the swings!? she galloped like a filly. she climbed steps like a big kid. she slid down slides over and over. one time, she did that little trick where you swing by your hands on the bar across the top of the slide before dropping yourself to slip away. she's never done that!

i kept shaking my head in awe, wondering momentarily how strange my grin might look to the other people there. i didn't care, joy was bubbling over. it was as if acacia had new strength in those shoes! and then, rhys began jumping off steps pretending he was superman, flying. guess who copied. acacia started FLYING. boy, did the tears come then and i recalled isaiah 40:31

"...they will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."

those whose hope is in the Lord.

acacia was born with a resolve and it's only fitting. her name means guileless. that's a childlike innocence. it is trusting.

i really needed to taste the truth that morning. not only with regard to acacia's feet. i needed the truth about hoping in God alone. trusting him as his child, in a freedom that knows it'll all be taken care of by my Dad. playing my days away as he deals with the big stuff. and to think, when i do so he delights to watch me just like i watch her. when my hope takes me to flight, makes me daring, gets me giggling, he beams in his glory. which just so happens to be my baby's other name.

startled by peace

we are exhausted this week. last week brought these separate incidences to our block: a stabbing and shooting, a productive visit from the U.S. Marshals, a drug raid, and multiple, minor, unrelated arrests. all directly followed my post about the good gift of home i have here. interesting? that'd be a gross understatement.

do you know isaiah 43:1-2? it is part of a passage of scripture that i first remember reading at a time when fear had filled my being like i'd never imagined it could. these words of promise washed me then, and over the years i've looked back on that gift of peace through easy and difficult times alike. this week, after the occurrences mentioned above, two or three people mentioned these verses to me. through the bit of shock, i am realizing i have never felt so close to the kind of overwhelming danger described in isaiah, even as i recall other moments in the past where i truly have escaped peril. what may be the most risky place i have ever lived is likely among a thousand other places i have been where destruction or death was at my door but i was simply unaware.


But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.


oh, praise God, who has named me! i am his and he is ever my Savior! bullets were fired in front of my porch, more than grazing my car. neighbors witnessed me giving information to the police. a drug raid happened right outside my window. i 've seen many frightening events, yet my kids have missed them all. and through the course of these events, among other merry things, we as a family have played on our sidewalks, met new neighbors, put plants in our yard and welcomed more first-time visitors to our home.

i may be tired and a little disoriented, but the Hand of peace guards me. my sheltered heart can live with joy and find rest in the midst of this torrent.

an anniversary with God

i love my new house.
no, we haven't moved, the entire exterior has been rehabbed through a grant from our city. (the photo at left shows our old porch steps.) this 19th century home, with its shady history and deteriorating shell, now has all new windows, doors, roofs and gutters, plus a very nice shade of paint. we are put at ease by these major repairs we could not afford to do ourselves, and our neighbors are celebrating with us this tremendous gift.

i love our neighborhood.
oh, it's no utopia! gunfire, drug deals and domestic brawls are fairly common. blaring, obscene music and foul language are the norm, plus folks of every age have little respect for private or public property. in fact, someone kindly shot about two dozen BBs through our newly painted siding this week. however, the constant presence of people sure makes me feel alive. the good is right up alongside the bad and the really ugly, and it makes life pretty palpable.

the slightest bit of hope is tangible, too. people are not afraid to admit that hope is needed. the shamelessness and in-your-face manner create a receptiveness to relationship that's harder to find in "upstanding" communities. sadly, those are often places of well-kept secrets necessitating strong walls that curb any form of hospitality or true brotherhood. doesn't sound superior nor desirable to me.

today i celebrate the 3-year anniversary of God's promise to us: a house. i hadn't asked him for one, but he knew my desires. i longed to live immersed in diversity. it'd be a place where we'd know all our neighbors, sharing ourselves and our space with them. a throng of kids would be of necessity. and we would live so close to others that they would see, and one day know themselves, the life we've found in Jesus' other Kingdom. the promise was about all he'd provide both in and about that home.

two years ago, he gave us the house. if you have journeyed long with us, you know the road here wasn't easy. now and then, i get physically shaken by simply recalling the valleys we walked through in the first days here. and the daily stressors on our street are innumerable, as i mentioned. living well in this place requires sacrifice, humility, endurance . . . and more. yet this is God's promised gift to us. he has given it in the shape he's designed and we are faithfully letting him shape how we use it. it is here where i increasingly find that what i dreamed of simply cannot rival the marvelous gift he's given. nearly every longing i had for a house has already been fulfilled, in extra measure!

when God said, "ask me for a house," i was astonished. "isn't that trivial, so temporal, God?" then, i realized he was serious and that i was questioning his intimate love for me. i like that "receiving" isn't only defined as getting or collecting. to receive also means to welcome and meet with, to listen to and respond to. as he always does, God wanted to give something of eternal worth. i am so glad i didn't miss it, and i pray we all keep growing up in recognizing what God desires to give and in welcoming what he chooses for us.

i am in love with a Good God.

sometimes God answers fast

i was struggling with something today, wrestling a little with God but mostly with my own mind. i reached the point of decision: tonight, after the kids are in bed, i must read my Bible and pray. i just need to be with my Father. i just need him. it gave me some peace to simply hope for that time.

immediately after o. was tucked in, i closed myself in another room, took out my journal and got out some thoughts. then i read and started to pray about one chapter in particular. while i conversed with Jesus about leaning on him like a brother (consider hebrews 2), i got a new picture of faith.

that wasn't the only new picture. i had answers to the very thing i'd been struggling over earlier in the day. i had barely broached the subject with God, and CLICK! on went a switch, and he answered my confusion. i found him and i found what i needed.

praise the Lord of life! he hears us when we call and is found when we search for him unreservedly. and even reservedly.

try him.