Something New Already...

2011 isn't ending the way in which I would choose. No parties, no friends, no frivolity. But, that really encapsulates some of the hard things of this year, so maybe it is only appropriate that this is the way in which the New Year is ushered in: with feeble quietness from the sick (in body and heart-weary).

I've had some time to reflect on this past year. And, there were many indescribable heartaches, but I can also say without a doubt, that there were many victories. And moreover, in it all, in the midst of the atrocious mire, was Jehovah-Nissi (The Lord is My Banner). And there isn't victory without struggle. But, as I look to step from 2011 to 2012, I recognize my place. I can do nothing on my own accord, in my own power.

And then, staring back at me from a Christmas Starbucks disposable cup that housed hot tea three days prior: When we're together I know I'll never fall. And there is truth in that. Just as Peter floated above the waves when he focused on Jesus, I, too, must fix my eyes on the Author and Perfecter of my faith. I, too, need to let go of the battles in my heart, for My Banner says that He will fight for me if I remain STILL (Ex. 14:14).

And some Roman philosopher (later used in a song by Semisonic) said, "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." So, it is time (well past time in some areas that I have white-knuckled out of fear) for a beginning's end and a new beginning to come.

For me, on this New Year's Eve, I take comfort in knowing that all of my days are hemmed in. I know that I do not have to be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God (Corrie Ten Boom). I know that I don't need to see the whole staircase to take the first step in faith (MLK Jr). And it's more than just nifty quotes that I adore because in my spirit, I feel the nudging to learn what it means to truly be still. What would that look like to truly live like I knew I couldn't fall? To live without fear because perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18)?

As long as I draw grace-breath, there is learning and a newness of each dawn that by miraculous mercy doesn't require the waiting for each new year before another beginning's end. Tomorrow just happens to be the start of a new day and new year! Shalom. xo.

Making room...

Tonight I sat on my couch, sipped hot cider from my favorite owl mug until it turned cold, and listened to Christmas hymns. And I listened to the words. I really listened, then I pleaded for them to abide in my heart, the truth of it all. The holy.

How many times have I sung of the Advent? Of God's ransom and every heart preparing him room only to inadequately prepare my own? Countless nights have past since a star shone high proclaiming with the angels that the Christ-child was born. And what of this Grace born for us and this season?

I think it is easy to get lost in it all. Honestly, whatever family traditions we hold onto, whatever church traditions we covet, whatever we choose to focus on will never replace or augment the miracle. With or without shiny decorations, with or without 50 different varieties of cookies, with or without a tree, with or without presents, with or without fellowship, with or without acknowledgement, Jesus still came. Please don't misinterpret my sentiment here. I don't think there is anything wrong with any of the aforementioned things. I adore all of the wonderful ways in which people celebrate christmastime, but they shouldn't become the main focus.

And in the midst of it all, I long for the real remembering. And I want to make more room for him. I want to live in the awe of the night that was hushed and holy. So, I will make time to be silent before him, and I will attempt to live a life that demonstrates my thankfulness for the only gift I will truly ever need and could never deserve.



Weekend Ponderings

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.” ~Jane Austen

For those of you who know me, you know that I adore Jane Austen, I am sentimental to a fault, and I love people (even those who aren't so lovable). So, the above quote seemed apropos tonight.

It has been a very abnormal weekend for me. I haven't been feeling well, therefore, I didn't leave the house, Glenn was mostly gone, Jaden spent the night at a friend's house, and Gav was doing his own thing. It was quiet, which is sometimes welcome. But, this felt too quiet. Lonely.

I have a tendency to ponder things at length and become pensive. Don't get me wrong, I think taking time away from our busy schedules is a good thing. Sabbath rest and time for reflection is restorative in light of the hectic lives we lead; It is also completely necessary. But, this weekend I was grumpy. This weekend, I felt alone, disconnected.

I have felt differing degrees of disconnectedness ever since the schism. Trying to figure out relationships post-schism has been challenging to say the least. Some relationships ended abruptly, some faded away slowly, while others remain, although changed. And because I care so much about others (and those who are my friends - my brothers and sisters in Christ - my family), I wonder which ones will fade away. And, it has happened before, hasn't it? It is hard to keep up with people you no longer see consistently. I only have to peruse my Facebook friends to see the names of those I was once close to, but something happened, like a change of job, or church, or move, or whatever.

Earlier I googled "loss of fellowship" and I was caught off guard (convicted) by the results. Instead of showing pages about the loss of fellowship with believers, the results focused on the loss of fellowship with God. Indeed, how have I let all of this affect my relationship with God? Because deep down, although I hate to admit it, I know it has.

So, tonight, I give Him all of my nostalgia-infused heartache, and I remember everything is from Him, even all of the people He has given me to walk with for an appointed time. And, I learn once again to pry open my clenched hand, to not hold on too tightly, and to let go of everything preconceived that is weighing me down.

And, as I close out this quiet evening, I remember the scripture from yesterday from Psalm 68: A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families, he leads forth the prisoners with singing...

Because, sometimes I feel like I'm fatherless, or a widower, or prisoner in this place (this side of his holy dwelling), but I take comfort in knowing that God cares enough to create these surrogate families for us all. And once family, always family, right?

Ugly and Hungry

It's Thanksgiving. I just returned last night from three days in San Diego. I had an incredible time, which I chronicled with status updates and mobile uploads. There is one picture, however, that you will not see, for it is only etched in my mind. Permanently.

Everywhere we went, there were masses of people: locals, tourists, and many homeless people. As I walked the streets of Old Town, taking in all of the sights and street vendors, my eyes were drawn down to the sidewalk. There was an older man, shrunken in statue, unshaven, and holding a torn piece of cardboard. On it he had written just three words: ugly and hungry. And my heart broke right there.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to sit down right next to him against the cracked adobe wall, take his hand, look him in the eye, and speak truth to his weathered heart. I wanted to tell him of God's love for him, a love that was given for all of us made ugly by sin. But, I didn't. I not only missed the opportunity to share with him about the Bread of Life, but I also missed the opportunity to give him food to satisfy his physical hunger.

My eyes drip liquid remorse in the remembering of it all. And I ask for forgiveness. And I ask for more opportunities to act instead of being paralyzed by not knowing how a situation will unfold. Because, it really doesn't matter as much as my obedience, does it? And on this Thanksgiving, I am so thankful for a God who is full of endless second chances - for a God who is able to redeem the ugly and hungry.

So, tonight, as I sit in the shelter of my home, I pray for that man. Tonight, I ask God to redeem the ugly parts of my heart and cause me to only truly hunger after him and his ways.

A Giving of Thanks...

During this month of November, I have thoroughly enjoyed reading the posts from my friends on Facebook who have participated in the "30 Days of Thanksgiving" by posting something they are thankful for each day. It is so important to cultivate a spirit of gratitude in our hearts, just as it is equally important to ponder and remember what God has done in the past (lest we forget His favor and goodness).

Six months or so ago, I accepted a challenge to begin counting everyday gifts. This proved to be such a profound exercise in reshaping how I viewed day to day life with all its ups and downs. More importantly, however, was how I began to see God's unending care for me. In this process, I believe that my heart was opened in a new way. I was able to allow God into those areas of my heart that I had kept sealed shut because of fear and mistrust.

To give all thanks to God is where we find true joy in Him. It is not circumstantial. Let's face it, life is full of heart-wrenching things. There are some things that we will experience this side of heaven that will be so painful, the last thing we might feel like doing is giving thanks. These things - the things that I don't understand, the things that bring tears-hot, the things that leave me speechless, gasping for breath - I call the ugly beautiful.

The things I see as ugly, mournful, God will make beautiful in His time (To console those who mourn...To give them beauty for ashes, The oil of joy for mourning, The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness. Isaiah 61:3a). The things that seem harsh and hopeless will eventually be transformed (“Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor [trouble] a door of hope." Hosea 2:14-15a).

So, here are some November entries from my gratitude journal:

Precious reminders and saying I love you (and meaning it)
Jaden Elliot - 11 years old today
Leaving work early on a Friday for a birthday celebration
Disneyland with the boys, my brother and my mom :)
Laughter and the making of memories
Car washes in the rain
Hands that mourn still being raised
God's Word and His promises
People being the hands and feet of Jesus
Not having to set the alarm
Slumber parties and silliness
The people that God has given me to walk with <3
Rain that washes away the impurities
The gift of my job - even working on the weekend (I love going to work each day)
Worship
A warm mug of coffee cupped by cold hands
The rustling of leaves on a blustery day
Receiving Rosetta Stone in the hopes of acquiring Espanol
Christmas music
Vacation and a time of renewal
Hearing Glenn and Gavin laughing and talking (even if they are keeping me up :)
This time of year
Time to read
Mushy text messages and feeling loved
My Bible study group
Packing for two days in San Diego with my mom
The rare quiet evening

And the ugly beautiful:

The loss of a child
Broken relationships that have yet to be reconciled
Selfishness that wounds others

What are you thankful for this day?

Of Loss and Hope and Things Eternal...

I don't think I could possibly express everything that is in my heart, or all the things that God is showing me -  teaching me - over the last two weeks. It was the morning of Halloween when I learned that a kindergartner at my school had passed away the previous Friday; she was in my friend's mother's class. It is of course extremely sad when a child dies. As a mother, it is something that is almost unfathomable.

Even though the little girl had gone through three prior heart surgeries, she was off all medication and thriving at school. She was, according to her teachers, a precocious child who loved to ask questions. Her death was completely unexpected, and the family did not have the resources for the funeral expenses. Immediately, the school community rallied support for the grieving family. From there, a car wash was planned by our supervisors, one of them who had lost her own son at the age of five. A newspaper article brought attention to the support efforts.

The day of the car wash, it rained. But, no amount of precipitation could dampen the overwhelming support from the community (school, district, and city). We only washed 10 cars, but raised approximately $4700 in three hours. Every day last week, we would receive more support from people sending in funds from all over the Inland Empire. I was truly humbled to witness such support for this family.

I attended the vigil. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew in my heart that I needed to be there. What I witnessed was such a powerful testimony to the hope that this family had. In the midst of their unimaginable loss, was an abiding hope. They knew without a doubt that this life, however long or short, is not the end for those who are in Christ Jesus. Even with my limited understanding of Spanish, the message of salvation through words, prayer, scripture, and song was powerful and Spirit-led; it is something I will never forget.

The next day at the graveyard service was more somber, reserved; even the skies remained cloudy. But, you could not mistake the hope - hope that comes from knowing the eternal God - that was tangible. As tears were shed and the casket lowered into the ground, the words from the scriptures pierced my heart-heavy with Jesus' promises.

I sat alone during church today. I cried, not because I was particularly sad, but moreover because I was overwhelmed with God's grace and mercy. As I sat in the midst of the Body of Christ, I was reminded that any of us at any given time can be experiencing severe heartache. Life on this earth can be hard, but that's just it...Why does my heart sometimes forget that this life is a blink of an eye compared to eternity? I was reminded of the scripture I included in the card I gave to Paola's family.

From Psalm 84:
How lovely is your dwelling place,

O LORD Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the LORD;
my heart and my flesh cry out
for the living God.
Better is one day in your courts

than a thousand elsewhere...

I am still processing many things, but tonight I am so very thankful for:

Salvation (and the blessed assurance we have)

God's truth (and His promises fulfilled)

God's peace (that can bring comfort to those who mourn)

The extended Body of Christ (and the godly examples that surround me)

So, as I close, I ask that you remember this family in your prayers, but also please pray for all of the families who mourn tonight without hope.

Time...

Time has been on my mind. Often I wonder where the time goes. The not-so-distant past feels like a far off memory. The change I was facing is now more of a routine. And I am thankful. Recently, I have had a few reminders of what was --the valley I was in-- and with that comes the flooding memories and the reminder of how traversing it all hurt deeper than I realized. I breathe in slowly as I strive to comprehend the depths of His grace, His hand in my life. And I am overwhelmed.

Three weeks ago tonight, my husband came home from work not feeling well. He was fatigued, aching all over, and feverish. He had a red patch on his side.The urgent care doctor confirmed my suspicions: cellulitis. They gave him an IV dose of antibiotics and a prescription. He was supposed to go back the next day for a final dose of IV antibiotics, but a mere twelve hours later, he had taken a turn for the worse. The area on his side had tripled in size, and he was running a fever of over 103 degrees; he was almost unresponsive.

He was hospitalized for five days. The doctors were baffled at the severity of the infection. Initially, he wasn't responding to treatment. The infection spread for another two days until they tried a different combination of antibiotics. When they sent him home, he continued with his IV infusions for another eleven days.

After he had been home for a few days, he came to a stunning realization: this infection was serious, it was life-threatening, and it could have taken his life.

But, it didn't. That was my response to him. It didn't.

So, what does that mean? What does that really mean to all of us that wake up each day with new opportunities. None of us are guaranteed a tomorrow. So, in light of this truth, how will you spend your todays? Some days I fall so miserably short of the mark. Some days I am selfish and do not put others before myself. Some days I speak harsh words instead of kind. Some days I behave like I am not His, like my life hasn't already been purchased with a sacrifice so complete that it demands my everything.

I once read that we need to own our minutes and days, lest they turn into months and years and we didn't even realize it. It is so easy to get caught up with our day-to-day commitments. But, in the day-to-day, I want to live out this one life, the only one I get on this earth, with purpose.

This was the main scripture for today's sermon:

1 Peter 4:7-11

The end of all things is near. Therefore be alert and of sober mind so that you may pray. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.