I'm back

I guess I'm back on Blogger with tales to tell in a whole new place. A literal one this time.

We moved to Colorado over the summer and now live in the one of the country's richest, "safest," cleanest places.  In Boulder County, the beauty alone evokes pleasure, strength and venture with every daybreak! The receptiveness from everyone we meet is wonderful and it frees us to be ourselves. It’s nearly too much to comprehend how many facets of opportunity this culture provides to enrich our lives.  This is a season for restoration and enlargement.

Intriguing, then, are the frequent dreams at night that I have of home in NJ. With all the celebration I'm taking in, I'm not longing to go back. They’re not leftover nightmares about troubled days, either. But they do cause heartache.  Sometimes the prostitutes appear, the homeless, the drug dealers, the imprisoned.  They’re all there, with our other neighbors and friends, going about their usual business like any other day in Millville.  And I’m there with them.

As major changes go, it's natural to miss what's familiar, and our neighborhood was the thing most palpable, dynamic and affecting to me.  It wasn’t relatives nearby, our church friends, the other places I frequented or my regular escapes into nature. Life was a struggle on our troubled street, but it was home.  And it’s where I loved and found Love.

I’m paying attention to these dreams and the feelings welling up, to the grief over how much tragedy occurs and how many lives are ever-stuck in emptiness, darkness and despair.  I’m considering how it all translates into life here and the now-distant relationship to Millville.  Yet I recognize the need to let things play out as they will, in their own timing, so to enjoy the gift of the present.

Years ago, Kenn gave me Mother Teresa’s A Simple Path.  I do prefer weightier books but decided to read it another time.  It’s straightforward, like the life of Teresa and her fellow missionaries: all sincere yet most unsophisticated.  Except for their love.  To simply love, with no questions asked (or strings attached) and no judgments made, this is the most profound way of life.  It is The Way.

Almost daily, I celebrate how our NJ days rooted us deeper on that Way.  Those times enlighten these, like a preface to a book. How will this story of Love go on?  Let's let the Artist do the unveiling.

Unfold the Tapestry.

Something new

The house quiets because the children are in bed.  I consider going myself, as I get dreamy watching the shadows of snowflakes bounce and fly on the wall.  One seemed to come descend inside, and then they all fall faster and fatter, and distorted through window glass they look more like a fifty Nerf gun attack. 

Every year when we get our first real snow, to me it's like the first time all over again.  Something new.  Something saved, too, because it's all enveloped in white.  That's especially the feeling when it comes on days like today, as I recover from the previous evening's too many loads of laundry and floors to wash in too many rooms after the littlest one puked everywhere.

It's like the new door on the house on our block.  Currently, empty apartments and boarded up homes number more than those that are not.  One house has been under major renovations on the inside but you cannot tell from first glance.  You couldn't until today.  I cannot believe the difference a door can make.  It isn't my taste, but it also isn't quite the piece of junk landlords will slap on only when it's absolutely imperative for their own sake that a door be replaced.  Is something new really happening?

Though I'm always dreaming about what's to come, no matter the time of year, I'm also no stranger to despair.  I need pictures like the snow cover to mirror my heavy prayers and then quiet me with hope.  I know the snow will melt away, and not before it's soppy and sullied!  Winter only lasts so long, and even spring has rain.  Still, I ache for a sweeping in to cover, cover.  Recover.  Whiten, lighten, hush. 

And make new.

harmony in day nine

monday, a sweet friend brought dinner and dessert to us. help for this bed rest stretch. not only were we fed, but the prepared meal freed kenn to play with our kids before we ate.  he had them outside, riding bikes on the sidewalk, shooting hoops by the window where i sat watching.  before long, a bunch of children of all ages gathered, mingling in game and chatter. 

when my friend arrived, one of her first comments was something like, "i see you've got my peoples up in these parts!" we agreed that we do but didn't really express how deeply we enjoy that fact.  i've been thinking about it since, about a certain balance "her people" bring as one minority among others on our street.  it's a privilege to be living where it's so colorful (in more ways than one), and it's in "mixed" company that i've always been more at home.

there's harmony in the motley.  the Creator delights in it.  he alone fashioned it.  and this life is so rich because of the diversity of beauty in him and all he has made.  i wish we'd all purpose to hold firmly to these glimpses of Paradise restored, and confess: our differences reflect the perfection of heaven.

yielding in prayer yields fruit

eight days ago, we set up our first prayer room!

we propped an E-Z Up shelter in the parking lot of a church down the street during their 5th annual fun fair which is hosted in partnership with our neighborhood association and elementary school staff. this church has a great ministry to the neighborhood called SHINE Ministries, where i have volunteered in the past. just a couple of weeks back, the director of SHINE was speaking with kenn about life & work and invited us to set up a table at the fair. i honestly don't know what he was imagining we'd want to add to the event and when kenn told me of the invite it was almost in passing. for a brief moment i thought it was simply a nice gesture. then a second thought overcame me. WHOA. that's a big deal. and immediately followed: we should have a prayer tent! i think i surprised both of us.

though kenn and i are planning with others to hold a season of nonstop prayer this fall, we did not foresee something of this sort and this soon on our street! kenn went to the director with the idea, the director went to someone overseeing the fair, and the prayer room was approved! there wasn't much time to put it together, but complete peace filled me as i drew plans for how it would look and what elements would be appropriate to include. getting to design such a sacred space, pouring prayer over the details and envisioning what God could be doing, was absolutely fulfilling.

the day of the fair started with two teen boys helping set up the tent. both of them were campers of mine the first year i was a counselor with SHINE. now they're a regular part of the life at that church. my mom joined us, plus two friends from our old church. a youth pastor friend from another church in town (who also happens to be my distant relative) stayed all afternoon to help run the tent. i grew up with him and his sister, and his mother has taught for years at this same neighborhood school, deeply committed to the kids and their families. it's a wild blessing to be doing God's work together today!

at the fair, every child registers for the activities and a card with a list of the stations is given to each. their cards get punched after visiting each one. when a card's complete, a student receives a new book bag and other gifts like school supplies, a New Testament Bible, and a ticket for a free cone from the ice cream truck. at first, people were a bit hesitant to stop by the prayer room. coming together so last minute, it wasn't an official item listed on their cards, and the tent was a bit removed from the other tables. however, once a certain number of people realized what the tent was all about, a flow of visitors came.

in front of the prayer room was a box where anyone could leave prayer requests. only a handful of people shied away from doing so, with most eager to share their burdens or words of thanks. several folks, including volunteers with the fair, made it a point to thank us for having a prayer room, to show their approval of "such a great idea". a few personal stories we heard in more detail. one woman asked for prayer on the spot. we spent time with a man whose newborn son has been fighting for his life. many people we personally know from our street participated. and the kids at the fair loved the space inside the tent. they wrote out prayers and drew pictures of them, some giving praise to Jesus or thanks for what they have. parents rested there while their children colored and hung their work along the perimeter of the room. those prayers and the ones left in our box came to number over 100.

it would take a lot more time to describe everything we saw that day, but one of the most significant moments for me came later that evening. there's a large crew of kids - all from the same extended family - that is always next door and with whom we've gotten pretty close. some of them were outside that evening and one of the little girls, whom i'll call M, came to ask me what we we'd be doing with the box of prayers. i told her a group of us would be praying over them and she asked to help. she wanted me to bring out the box so we could pray for all of them together! though i felt unsure of letting her read the cards since some were shared in confidence and she might recognize who had written others, i knew i still could not squelch her desire.

a few other little girls were playing with my hair as i sat on the porch, and M pulled up a chair in front of me. she continued to ask to pray and i finally decided to not bring out the box but suggested that we still could pray. there were a couple of interruptions, including a phone call with a prayer request, until at last i said, "let's pray." another, even younger girl had pulled up a chair next to M, so that we formed a tight circle there on the porch. she asked to pray first, and with two other girls listening in, the two who were seated put out their hands to hold mine and bowed their heads. eyes closed, each took a turn to mouth silent prayers. after their amens, i asked if i could pray aloud and then brought to God the beautiful day we'd just had. i thanked him for the fair and for friendship. i prayed for our neighborhood, for the phone call request and for the girl's uncle who's awaiting a lung transplant. then an older girl walked up and sat on the window sill next to me. we grabbed her hands and i thanked God for her, too. as i closed our prayer, another cousin came to tell them it was time to go inside and they skipped away.

i am still aflutter inside. what a privilege to sit on my porch as i've done countless times before, this time praying with these dear little ones! i don't know what else is in store, but my heart is ready. God is doing many beautiful things in this place, and i am so grateful we're a part of it all!

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

UPDATE Nov 2013:

Many months after we'd prayed for the uncle of M and the family had moved from our block, our phone rang.  It was M's uncle, calling from the hospital, having just received a double lung transplant!  His doctors and the other hospital staff were in awe at his body's response and the quick progress in the few short days after surgery.  Then he said he knew he HAD to call us because WE HAD BEEN PRAYING FOR HIM all along!  Even now, every time we see him he attests to the fact that he was given another chance at life.

UPDATE Apr 2014:

These days M and others from the story above have made their home at the church where we held the prayer tent.  They've been deeply involved in SHINE and are growing into beautiful young women.  Please pray that their hearts would be forever captured by Jesus and their faith, too, would yield boundless fruit in this community!  Also, the fellowship we've now called home for over a year is the same one from which our helpers/relatives came to support us at the tent in 2010.  I love life's twists and turns.

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?

eyewitness

sounding out story
unlikely glory found
on a street disrepute

where fists pounded rage
provoking blade and thrown
bloodied shirt to the dirt

i saw the hand hold the piece
cracks unleashed
nonchalant to the air
and i saw the Hand choke back
with resolve any harm
meant for here

more of the story
finds you next day
clearing dross from
the derelict lot down the way
your hands became four
became six and then eight
ten or twelve took the space for clean
fun being missed

next day came force
with another ten, twelve
stretching out weapons in charge
charged with offenses a few
put away but root-stretched
abides the illicit

i still witness hands
bent lawless and listen
to voices hurl hate
and i still expect the Hand
that is boundless to heal
and to heave away pain

sounding out story
soon coming glory found
on a street wholly new

- c. l. atkinson

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.

everything under the sun

took a lovely walk around the neighborhood with the littles today. R and i chatted. A relaxed in her stroller. we stopped at a park for a while.

taking in all the sights, you can't help but notice the spring paradox. fresh greenery and budding trees with newness in the air, all mingled with burned out, boarded up homes strewn with rubbish and left to decay. what was once pristine and grand lies in wait for exploitation. R and i talked about one house with its gorgeous brick porch. he suggested buying it. i said i wish someone would . . . make it all new.

though the mess is commonplace here, it doesn't feel natural. only disheartening to a heart where eternity has been placed, as Ecclesiates says. the building up and tearing down, the keeping and throwing away, it's a mystery to me. a mystery to be embraced as i look toward the One whose works will endure, like a tapestry not worn.

among other things new, i do get to take part in a little home rebuilding. recently, a contractor began the city's rehab project on the exterior of our house. and i have many hopes for the inside that are bit by bit being fulfilled. the house has surely had its own seasons. i am thrilled to be part of this mending, laughing, planting, healing and gathering time!

a story about hospitality

it was dark, it must have been late, dinner had not yet been served. in fact, i was busy trying to prepare it when i heard a quiet tapping on the back door. our backyard is enclosed with a fence which  the neighborhood kids know to enter only after they've asked permission. it's a general rule when we aren't in the yard.

earlier, the knocking at the front door had begun to get out of hand - kids being kids and being silly but wearing on us hungry and tired adults. so when the knock at the back door was heard, i was irked. i left my cooking to peer out a window, to catch a little pest in action. sure enough, someone was standing on my fence. the darkness hid who it was, so i just banged on the window and motioned a command to get down. whoever it was tried to gesture their explanation to me, which i assumed was unwarranted. i turned to the back door to get down to the bottom of this interruption.

let me not forget, the tap i'd heard had turned to two or three knocks and then a call of my name - Miss Cheri?! - but i still refused to answer. my task of making dinner i had determined to complete.

to my surprise and near horror when i opened the door, sweet d. was standing there cowering with tears in his eyes, explaining how some kids were threatening him.

oh my God, what have i done? i love this dear boy, small of stature yet so tall of heart. he has come to my door to find refuge. literally. and i've refused him. to offer a place for any one to be at home and find what they need for the journey was the hope-filled intention of my heart, and it had been realized. in an instant, i locked that door.

thank God for his mercy and justice. over us all. d.'s tears broke me and i offered my deep regret in apology. he came inside and wiped away his tears with a bit of shame. not long after, his cousins and siblings came to walk him home and a piece of myself walked away with him. i think it won't return.

i am so broken. jesus still comes to my house. let me not miss him again.