If You're Angry and You Know It

Yesterday was a rough day. Ask Harry. I yelled at him for hovering around my feet as I went in and out of the sliding door to the deck in order to grill the chicken for dinner. Of course he was hovering--he's a dog, and loves grilled meat. Any kind of meat, really. Heck, he'll even munch on paper and tissues out of the garbage, if we don't empty the wastepaper cans right away.

I don't normally yell at him. Then again, Safety Bill doesn't normally snap at me when he comes home from work. He's normally very slow to get angry and long on the patience and love. And then our daughter was acting like a belligerent teenager yesterday, and got her feathers easily ruffled when normally she's very mature and sweet with me. She's 17, and we still haven't hit a stage where I wish she would go off to college and mature.  I don't want her to ever leave home. But yesterday I could actually envision it.Yesterday I wanted everyone to leave home, the dog included, and leave me alone.

Pressure. Frustration. Disappointment. Anger.Oh, I felt all these things yesterday. There was a lot going on under the surface too. Everyone is dealing with challenges and decisions to make. Each one of us is facing important decisions that have to be made. And we've all been praying. A lot, really. We've all been seeking God, seeking His will, trying to step out in faith, trying please Him with our actions of faith.


But remember, if you're stepping out in faith, then you're stepping out of your comfort zone. And there's only so long that you can deal with being out of your comfort zone before you realize you are, and you freak out a bit. Sometimes we've been trying so hard to please God, and going that extra mile, and then we hit a wall--it's a wall that we know God could have easily removed for us. We feel almost slighted by God. It's like we're a child that gets up early to surprise their parent by cleaning up the kitchen, and the parent walks out into the sparkling clean kitchen and....merely nods. Doesn't say a word. Oh, it's a pleasant nod of acknowledgement, but we were expecting so much more than that!

Well, I'm that child. And I felt close to a throwing a tantrum yesterday. I was frustrated. Bewildered, a bit.
 How much more could I show God that I was trying to change and grow in Him? I felt dejected. Angry, really. I didn't want to be angry with God. It's not a good feeling. Most people aren't even sure that you can be angry with God. 

But every healthy relationship includes an honest sharing of emotions and feelings and thoughts, one to the other.Actually the healthiest of relationships have a "safe zone" where each person can share their feelings without fear. With "safe" people, we can afford to let our anger out. We can risk being vulnerable. We can say, "I feel so angry with you right now."

Of course, there are healthy ways of expressing anger, and then there are dysfunctional, abusive ways of dealing with anger. Let's be clear on that. Let your anger out--but don't shoot it out. Don't shoot it out like an arrow with a poisonous tip!

"BE ANGRY, AND yet DO NOT SIN; do not let the sun go down on your anger," Ephesians 4: 26 tells us.
Would somebody care to explain how that's done, I always used to think the minute I'd read that verse. Because I don't know about you, but I don't know many people who know how to be angry and yet not sin. Getting angry, and not sinning, is like getting on and staying on a balancing beam that's a 1/4" wide-- would you know how to stay on perfectly and not fall off??

I really don't think, though, that God would tell us something that's impossible to do. I wonder if we've misunderstood what the sin is, in anger, and what's acceptable, when angry.

Anger builds up the more we've felt slighted, frustrated, misused, ignored, hurt.....The point is, that Anger builds up. And maybe we shouldn't let it. Maybe we should learn to quickly acknowledge the first sign of it and admit it, right away. Of course some of us are more prone to getting angry at the first sign of anything, and some of us have to be prodded to express our feelings. You know which one you are.

Here's the GOOD NEWS: God is the very first person you can safely go to, when angry. In fact, He is the best one to go to when angry so that your anger doesn't grow volcanic and explosive and out of control. Because, you see, you can tell God what you're feeling and you can talk it out with Him. Even if HE is the One you feel angry with, tell Him what you're feeling.

But here's a warning that you need to be aware of when you feel angry with Him: Don't curse God, or accuse God, when you're angry. Just tell Him how the situation looks to you, how it feels to you--don't malign Him, though, and attribute evil motive to Him. Be very careful with what you indirectly are saying.

That's what Job understood. That's how Job prevailed through one of the worst trials a person can go through. Job experienced an unexpected series of losses, when he'd been living right with God, and he didn't understand why. In fact, Job had been going out of his way to show God that he respected His ways. He even made sacrifices to God on behalf of his partying children who apparently didn't worry about living right with God like their father, Job, did.

And when faced with unexpected, horrific tragedy that Job didn't see coming, he still refused to accuse God of evil motive. "In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing."(Job 1:22)

Oh, Job was hurting! He was frustrated and angry. He was in shock, almost, astounded at what God had apparently allowed, or caused, to happen to him. You see he didn't know what God had in mind or why this had happened but he knew one thing, for sure: that though it looked like God was out to kill him, Job would still trust God's motive and plan for him.(Job 13:15)

Can you do that? You can if you have really come to know God, know His heart, know what He was willing to do in order that you could be made right with Him. You see, if you truly understand that God loves you with a sacrificial love, a merciful love, a love that says "Come unto Me all ye that labor and I will give you rest," then you would never accuse God, or curse Him, or charge Him with wrong doing.

Instead, you would say,

"God, I don't understand!"
"Lord, it feels like you're ignoring my prayers"
"God, I feel so angry!"
"Lord, it looks like You are not with me!"
                              and God would say, "I can see why you say that. Tell me more. Let's talk about it."

We will not always get a Birdseye view of what's going on, or why God is allowing something in our life. We will not always get a clear answer from Him, even after hours of tears and prayer and journaling and petitioning and sharing of our feelings. What will we get is the knowledge that He hears us--and cares. "I love the LORD because he hears my voice, my pleas for mercy," the psalmist writes. He bends down, and listens to us. He's willing to hear your heart. He wants to answer you. And He is... answering you.

Job kept his trust in the Lord, even though it looked like he had no reason to. It almost looked like God was out to get Job, that's how bad the situation was. Why trust someone who's out to hurt you? Can you trust someone who doesn't have your wholeness and well-being in mind? Exactly.

You see, the reason why Job did trust God is that he leaned on something more than circumstantial evidence: he knew the motive of God's heart. He knew the God of Covenantal Promise, the God who would send a Savior to earth that we might have life, and have it more abundantly. That's God's motive.That's His heart. That's why He's trustworthy. That, and so much more. He's the number One most Trustworthy Being I know.

Now go back to your anger. Wait, you're not feeling so angry and frustrated? Yeah, me neither. Do you now have a bit of quiet hope that your situation is not shrouded in retributive punishment--but in grace? Do you see, now, how God desires to turn your situation around, to turn your mourning into dancing? To turn your anger and frustration into chortles of delighted laughter at how big He is, how much He loves you, and how NOTHING will ever stop Him from being the God of the Universe, your Heavenly Father, the One who truly cares...for you.

Higher Ground

I had one of those light bulb moments this morning; you know, your brain is foggy, you're dutifully eating your pasty but good-for-you oatmeal, and you're looking at a Scripture verse for minutes on end while your mind is somewhere else, and then....Blink! The light is turned on.

First, though, there was coffee and a bit of "discussion" with Safety Bill this morning. I like to say we discuss things, but anyone listening in might say "That sounds more like arguing." But that's only because when I "discuss" things, I tend to get a little vehement, a little heated, and Safety Bill gets more quiet and goes on high alert--like he's thinking that the boiler pressure relief valve might let go. His thinking is Safety first. Mine is Make Way for Truth. We try to meet in the middle.


But there's no middle ground when God is pruning you. That's what I've been thinking about lately. John 15:2 alludes to some kind of "pruning" that God does in our life--like you're an apple tree and God is going to lop off a few branches. NOT! If that were the case, you would know what was going on when God was pruning you. It's easy to see the branches come off--if that were pruning.

But the Greek word here has to do with God purging your life. It's more of a vicious cleansing than a lopping off. He takes what is mixed-up in your life and un-mixes it. He removes things. He peels things away. And I'm convinced that when God is pruning, you feel more of a panic and dismay than a non-chalant attitude of "Oh, that's just God pruning me."

I don't think we have to go around pretending that we like being pruned. When we're going through a confusing, botched up situation and things are falling apart in our life, and we feel a little uncertain about what the heck is going on, and someone asks you how you're doing, we don't need to give some spiel about how wonderful it is to walk with God and be pruned. It's better to say, "I feel like I'm in a storm. I'm a bit confused as to what God is doing in my life right now. It's all a b it murky right now."

But hold on for the light bulb moment! Because at some point down the road, it WILL come on. Matthew 5:8 says, "Blessed are the PURE in heart, for they will see God." And in this case, the word PURE has the same Greek root word meaning as PRUNED: you're PURE because God has purged you, He's made you clean in your motives, He's removed undesirable elements from your life. And if you've ever prayed to see God more clearly, He'll take you up on that prayer. He'll shake up your staid life, purge things from it, remove the impure motives, and make you look like a mess all the while it's happening. (Ask Job.)

But hang in there, friend. Because blessed are the pure (and pruned and radically purged)--they're going to see God. When God has messed up your organized life a little, and torn apart your nest, and re-arranged relationships and purged addictions from your life, get ready for some major light-bulb moments. You're about to see things in a whole new light. You're about to see God. And when you do, you'll be glad that when you were this close to giving up, you didn't. Because like Job, though He slay you and purge you, yet you trust Him... to see you through.

Throw it Away, Throw it Away

(photo by Organize.com)

I've been organizing- if you can call it that- my email in-box by trying to unsubscribe to the many emails that are coming in that I don't want. I call this pruning, or streamlining. I got an email from Organize.com which has a tag line, "Clean. Neat. Easy." and that one I decide to keep subscribing too.

It makes me feel good, momentarily, to get rid of junk and unneeded things. But this temporary feeling is just that- temporary. Soon I feel overwhelmed by clutter- both in my inbox and in my house.

I know where I get this from- this need to prune and purify my surroundings. I grew up in a small house overflowing with people: five kids, several cats, a cousin living with us, and two parents. When we moved to a larger home, when I was in second grade, it felt like we were moving into a mansion. I took deep breaths of privacy and peace. But these bits of privacy and peace were always temporary as well, because I shared a room with a sister, and because no matter how big a house is, it does not mean all will be at peace.

One habit my father developed, that I now realize was in reaction to this chaotic brood of his, was to mandate a weekly streamlining of our lives. This happened almost every Saturday, or when things started to feel crazy in our home: my Dad would make us go to our rooms and throw away 20 items,...or 100 items if he was really stressed that week! My sisters and I learned how to count a piece of thread as an item, or a rubber band, or a button, so that we could retain as many of our belongings as we could. We really didn't have a lot of stuff. We didn't own much junk. We shared our clothing. So what could we possibly need to throw away?

This need to suddenly cleanse and purify our supposedly cluttered surroundings has never gone away. I'll visit my Mom and Dad and it will usually come up. I'll be sitting in my Mom's room and smiling at here as she's resting in bed. She's so frail, now. She smiles a lot, but she sleeps a lot too. Her life long battle with depression has worn her out. She still looks heavenward, but I can see that she has an increasing connection with the Lord and a decreasing connection with us, here on earth. It's obvious that we are not going to have her forever.

And in the midst of thinking that, while my Dad is sitting there in the room with us, he'll suddenly say "Your mother's room needs cleaning. Her closet needs someone to go through it and throw away the junk. Will you do that?"

I'll look around the room. There might be a few articles of clothing on the rocking chair, and a few toiletries arranged on the dresser. Her closet has some clothing in it, all hung nicely on hangers. Where's the junk, I think? What do I need to throw away?

But I already know the answer to that. I can remember painful times, sad times ( throw them away, throw them away) and I can remember times where stress reigned in our home and not peace- in spite of the fact that there was never a family more committed to each other, more intent on being a family (throw that away, throw that away). I know why my Dad goes on these de-cluttering binges. I know why I get a momentary high after I've cleaned my house, wiped the countertops clean of crumbs and dust and the things that speak of dirt and decay.

I want peace and order in my life. I want a mind that is clean and clear. I want a heart that is free from bitterness and regret. But you don't get that from clearing your home of debris and junk. You don't even get that by going once or twice to counseling or a therapist or a priest. It takes endless forgiving and releasing, and forgiving and keeping that which is good and letting the rest go.

There's nothing wrong with a clean, organized, beautiful home. It's just that the only way it can stay perfectly clean perfectly organized and decluttered, is for people to live in it perfectly. Neatly. Robotically.

Our homes reveal our pain and our promise for hope. Our homes reveal the strain and stresses of the challenge of living. Our cluttered desks reveal that we get more information and details from bill collectors than we often do from those we love.

But this is life. And life is messy and clean, chaotic and peaceful. It all depends on where and how and who and when...and then it starts all over again. Throw it away, throw it away- the junk, the pain, the bitterness. But I can't throw away the evidence that I am alive and imperfect and hopeful, all at the same time.

I want gleaming counters and clean bathrooms. But I've decided messy kitchens are good too. And closets stuffed with gifts and mismatched clothing and odds and ends are not going to make me fall apart. I'll go for clean and order, whenever I can, but I'll also go for the grace to be able to cope with clutter and chaos- because it does happen every now and then. And I'm done with trying to make it not be so.

Surprise, Surprise!

Sometimes I feel like I should join a Support Group called Introverts Anonymous. The reason why this group would meet anonymously and be known by first name only is because everyone in the group, including myself, is an introvert disguised as an extrovert. Nobody ever believes me when I tell them I'm an introvert.

"But you're so cheerful and outgoing!" (Because most people think introverts are morose and ominously quiet!)

"But you're so talkative!" (As if introverts don't like to share what's on their mind!)

I share what's on my mind all the time. Maybe you can tell that- if you've visited here off and on over the months. I can easily articulate what's on my mind, what's bothering me, what I'm thinking about, what I'm hoping for. I've been articulating my thoughts for 40+ years. It's just that for the first 14+ years of my life, my diary was the main recipient of my thoughts.

Even then, being a quieter kid did not make me more of an introvert. An introvert is someone who refuels by being alone- or refuels better by having enough time alone as opposed to being with people all day long. Introverts can be very sociable- trust me on this. We can be pleasant and conversant. It's just that if we have to converse TOO much, we'll soon want to withdraw and get some time alone. We want to recalibrate our inner thermostat.

Give me a quiet beach and some good sunscreen and an iced tea and a good book- I will be one happy camper. (No, don't take me camping, please. I did enough of that when I was younger and in my mind, it's an arduous type of enjoyment, if you ask me. And remember, if you ask me, I will tell you what I think!)

Why am I bringing this up? Recently we were chatting with a couple that we've been getting to know better, and one of them could not believe me when I told him I was an introvert. His mouth hung open in disbelief. (Apparently we were doing enough chatting, and I was doing enough expressing of my opinions, that I did not look like the quintessential introvert!)

But you can always find tell tale signs of my introversion. For example, good bloggers post a lot of photos, and in particular, a lot of photos of themselves doing things, doing crazy things, smiling at the camera, etc. I don't like to post photos of myself. I'm an introvert, remember?!

Sometimes I want to share some thoughts with the world, and then leave the world behind and just be alone. Sometimes I want to hang out with loved ones and hear all their thoughts and laugh and joke around. But then I'll feel a need to get some time alone, by myself, later on. Maybe it's my way of getting my stability, getting my base line.

The only reason I bring this up is to mention that Christians can be introverts or extroverts. Surprise, surprise. And one of these is not holier than the other. Don't be over impressed by the gregarious hospitality of someone who invites someone to come stay with them for a week. If this person is an extrovert, they may not be straining at all in doing this. They're not more pious than an introvert who goes out of his way, out of his comfort zone, to reach out to someone and spend the day listening to them.

You really can't always tell when people are operating out of their comfort zone. Sometimes people are doing something that takes a great deal of faith and effort- and you would never know it. And sometimes people are doing wonderful things that everyone can see, and maybe they already have their reward, as Jesus said.

Now, I don't want anyone clapping their hands for me or commending me- BUT if I decide to post some photos, particularly of myself, I just want you to know it was a big step for me, being the introvert that I am! And if I don't wind up posting more photos here, well...it's cause I'm an introvert. I kinda want to stay hidden.

But I'll still keep chatting with you all here- even if you don't see my face, you'll hopefully see my heart. Everyone is welcome here at Faith Fuel- whatever your burden, whatever your hang up is, whatever your social orientation is. Extroverts, Introverts...God calls us all to Himself and we all shed our layers of protection the closer we get to Him.

Next!

I really don't have anything against this guy personally. But I don't care for Wes too much. But it's not because this guy is shady or dishonest. He seems to be pretty clear about his goal of becoming a country music star. I just don't think, though, that Jillian is hearing this guy when he talks about his music career and the needed publicity and the fact that he's getting some very good publicity by being on the show, The Bachelorette.


Most of us who are watching this Reality Show are well aware of Wes' ambition. He's not exactly writing it in big letters on a billboard for Jillian to see, but he is fairly clear about his desire to be a famous singer. If he sings that song, "They say that love- it don't come easy" one more time, I might throw something at the screen! But Jillian just loves it when Wes sings. She thinks he's singing for her. He's not.

This is where the "wise as a serpent" admonition comes in. This is where we need to think on our feet, and not just let our heart beat...in rhapsodic hopes of love. This is where we need to dig a little deeper when it comes to assessing someone's intentions, their ambitions, their addictions.

My teen age daughter and I get to do a lot of discussing when we watch this show (and I get to do a lot of editing too! Not everything that takes place on the show is what we accept as normative for our lives). We talk about how you have to go a little deeper when it comes to seeing someone's true colors. And it's perfectly acceptable to be somewhat reserved, somewhat appraising when it comes to evaluating what someone wants from you, who they are, what they are offering. You don't have to hug everyone the minute you meet them. You can look for substance, depth, honesty, integrity- and when you find it, the hug you give someone means so much more.

Here's to hoping Jillian takes another long hard look at Wes. Here's to her seeing how much he wants a music career- maybe more than anything else. More than he wants her. And here's to Jillian, and every other person who has had to realize a painful truth, but then because they did, they were better off. Much better off.

Sunlight, Grace, and Itchy Skin

I woke up at midnight, itching all over, having gone to bed early last night, at 9:30pm. I'm sure that the itching was not just a reaction to sunscreen, sun light, and bug bites. I do have a problem every summer with adjusting to direct sunlight and I seem to get a type of skin poisoning where I itch all over and feel like I want to tear my skin off. It's a lovely feeling, let me tell you.

The first time this happened was when I was in Spain, at the age of 14. We were there on a two week vacation- my mom and dad and younger sister and myself. I laid out by the hotel pool one day and soaked in all the sun- and then later in the day went back to the room and started to writhe in agony as my skin reacted violently to the sun. I'm not a pale skinned blond, and I don't know why I suddenly couldn't handle all the sun.

So last night, after we got home from visiting with some friends (sitting outdoors in their backyard and eating fruit and talking and talking), I went to bed a little itchy, fell asleep, and woke up a LOT itchy. Maybe I had gotten a few more bug bites. Maybe it was adding in more sun exposure. And maybe it's the new soap we are using in the shower, cause we ran out of the gycerin Bath and Body Works soaps that we always use. I don't know what it was, but my skin was reacting.

But I didn't wake up just because of my skin itching all over. I also woke up because my mind was alert and stimulated by the honest and invigorating conversation my husband and I had earlier that day with our friends. I ate the cherries and strawberries that they beautifully laid out on a tray, and I ate up the honesty and the candor of our conversation. It's not so much that we aired our dirty laundry as it was that we all admitted we had dirty laundry that needed airing. We had "issues" and we all knew we did. But we're working on our issues. And we smiled at each other in relief of knowing that, really, that's all you can do. The sense of relief and lack of pretense was precious. Powerful. And I didn't know that it meant great grace was there.

When I say I'm "working" on my issues, on my deep seated thought patterns that are helpful and not so helpful- I mean it. It is work. It's a type of labor that goes against the norm of maintaining status quo. I'm changing the way I look at things, the way I frame my questions, the way I see myself, even.

On the other hand, I'm also recently consciously practising a type of non-work- which I now realize is called grace- where I deliberately don't allow myself to strain and strive in order to accept good things. And this is where the itchy skin comes in.

Sometimes Grace is so against the norm of what we humans think we should receive, that it's like getting too much sunlight. Grace can make you itchy, uncomfortable, fidgety. Flowing in a state of grace is rare. I think people who grasp what grace is expect to find it mysteriously powerful and almost overwhelming- like the way sun light can actually overwhelm your body if you get too much of it.

There are warnings when it comes to taking in the sun. There's sun burn and sun poisoning and even skin cancer. Watch out for too much sun light. But when it comes to Grace, can there be such a thing as too much? When the Bible mentions about "great grace" being "upon them all"- did it cause problems? Itching? Fidgeting?!

What would happen if we lavished grace on people, problems, and predicaments? What would happen if we gave ourselves grace when we hit a wall? What would happen if we were quick to give grace? What would happen if we admitted that we're still a bit fuzzy on what Grace is? I'm sure that we would have to keep redefining what grace is, just like I have to keep figuring out what is really making my skin react, cause there's so many things the skin reacts to.

Grace comes in a variety of expression and flavors. Grace changes how you react in a situation. I think grace is a balm that calms inflamed situations, shattered self esteem, and raw emotions. Grace doesn't just blanket things and hide their reality- instead, it helps you to cope and see the thing that scares you.

And maybe grace doesn't mean that no one is wrong or that nothing needs to be done. Rather, grace could mean "we've got a lot of work to do, this is a mess, and boy is this itchy and agonizing." Then Grace becomes the hand that restrains yours from scratching your skin so hard that you hurt yourself- even though Grace is also what is making you so itchy and fidgety.

Maybe I came home from our time spent with our friends, feeling like I had been more honest than I had cautiously intended to be. I was itchy and uncomfortable because I had been seen, known, and loved- warts and all. My friends drew me in with their accepting love and their own candid sharing. But then more than that, great Grace was upon us. So we all dared. We all shared. And even though we knew we couldn't really handle too much of it, we took a step closer to the Son light.

What a Relief!

My daughter and I have been watching the Masterpiece Theatre production, Wives and Daughters, and for me, it's the second time I've seen it. Besides the gorgeous scenery and costumes, this time I am enjoying "seeing" the character of Molly Gibson.

If I liked her last time I saw this, I like her even more so now. Molly Gibson is a truth teller. And in an age of discreet and tedious social protocol, she stands out as a pure light of simple honesty. She says what she thinks- when the situation warrants it. And when the situation calls for her to bite her tongue, so to speak, she does. She knows how to do both.

I'm impressed by this kind of practical and social wisdom. It's no small thing to "be yourself", blend in with the social mores, stand on an issue, keep within a social group, build relationships, cut ties when you have to. You don't need the patience of Job for this kind of accomplishment- you need the wisdom of Solomon here. And even in that department, Solomon himself did not fare that well.

According to Wikipedia, Mores (pronounced /ˈmɔːreɪz/) are norms or customs. Mores derive from the established practices of a society rather than its written laws. They consist of shared understandings about the kinds of behaviour likely to evoke approval, disapproval, toleration or sanction, within particular contexts.

I recently discovered- don't know why I didn't see this before- that there are no social mores with God. When it comes to prayer, or coming to God with your concerns, there are no intricate, unspoken but implied, paths you have to navigate. For the Christian, the plain and spoken reality of the cross of Christ is clearly seen as the means we have, the access we have, to come to God.

But there are no social customs, no snickering snide remarks made by angelic bystanders, about the way we are supposed to come to Him. You won't hear an angelic whisper admonish you, "Oh, didn't you know? You're supposed to kneel three times, cross yourself twice, and look as pious as you can. That's the way we do it here in this realm".

The plain, welcoming truth is that I don't have to figure out any incidental customs that would invoke disapproval or disdain if I inadvertently said the wrong thing to God at the wrong time. There are no social mores with Him. What a relief.

There are social mores in the church, in relationships we have with other people of faith or Christian beliefs, though. There are preferences in certain sub-groups for how to present yourself or how to pray, even, or how to express your thoughts. That's reality. It's just that many groups don't even realize they have these preferences. This can cause a bit of a problem. Sometimes relationships suddenly reveal that we've had our preferences and our likes and our dislikes as guiding rules- and sometimes a rule gets broken in the relationship. Now the relationship has a problem- but what exactly is the problem?

Haven't figured out all the social interpersonal stuff yet. I may be 100 before I figure all that out. But I have discovered that there is a very direct route of communication with God. I've discovered there are no social mores with Him and that I don't have to weigh myself down with concern over possibly breaking any so called unspoken but spiritual rule of how to talk with God, how to be myself with God. I just talk with Him, any time I want to. He hears me.

And if I have to take up my cross to follow Christ as a Christian, and thereby suffer some things, one thing I do not have to suffer is a burdensome, tedious route to talking with God. The coast is clear. My mind is clear. And it's very clear that it's all because He made a way for me to come to Him.

Let's Go Another Round

After two hours in a refrigerator-like arena, watching my daughter enjoy a time of ice skating with friends, I rushed over to a local eatery to meet my best friend, Mu, and enjoy a hot cup of coffee and an hour or two of chatting. Well, actually, we never chat. It's more like we dig in. We can be like war generals, devising victory plans or discussing past battle losses so as to learn from failures.

The funny thing is that I often catch people looking at us as we're talking intently and I have to question why. Sometimes I can talk too loudly. It could be that. Or sometimes it might be that she and I are laughing so hard, and it can almost look like criminal behavior to be that overjoyed on such a frigid, dismal winter day. It's been near zero degrees, lately, and we northeners are a bit bundled up and cast down in spirits at the same time.

It could also be that people want to figure out what our relationship is all about. We look like friends, laugh like best friends with a long history, discuss strategies like war generals, and communicate as counselor and counselee- with myself being the counselee more often than not.

A lot takes place when we get together, but the biggest things that happens is that we get geared up to go another round. We're like old boxers who don't want to leave the ring without winning- but we haven't gotten there, yet.

Lately I'm just enjoying being me.

This is a recent development in my life, but I now have a new sense of gratefulness and appreciation for how God made me. This is an ironic thing. It's an unexpected thing.

It seems like God has changed the mirror in my bathroom and when I look into it, I now see the funny, the good, the interesting, the unique way He made me. It's like God is standing behind me as I stare in the mirror at myself and He is saying "Like what you see? Cause I do." Now, remember, He is standing behind me while I look in the the mirror so there's this strange sense of looking at myself while seeing Him at the same time. Is that something close to the meaning of "Christ in me, the hope of glory?"

Anyhow, what this all means is that I'm so enjoying the journey, lately. I looked back at my past enough to know that I am not there anymore. I'm in the Now. And before I get to tomorrow, I still will be me- loud voice, laughing, battle scarred but not scared, dancing around in the ring 'cause I'm ready to go another round.

Simply Irresistible!

Another winter storm has hit our area and we have yet to find out if this will be anything significant or if it will just be a day of shoveling and ice removal and then we're back to normal. Normal, for us here in the North, is a variety of things, but one thing it's not is sunshine and sweet breezes. Not in the winter, at least.

When I brought up the topic of vulnerability the other day, I guess I was indirectly trying to grapple with the issue of "What is normal or healthy?" concerning vulnerability, and there was some resulting comments that made us look at two things. There's our vulnerability to people, and then there's vulnerability with God.

I'm not so sure the word transparency is exactly equal in meaning with the word vulnerability, and I bring that up only because Christians seem to value some degree of transparency and accountability with each other. Scripture seems to indicate we should have the type of relationships where there is some give and take going on in what we see in each other, how we help each other (remembering to take the plank out of our own eye first before we remove the splinter in some one's eye, for example).

I've been transparent with people, some times more than others, in some settings more than in other settings. I've been glad I've been transparent, and then there have been times I wasn't rosy with joy at the outcome when I shared freely. That's life. That's how the cookie crumbles, I think. But I've never really doubted that transparency and relational honesty isn't good for me. I know its a good thing.

Being vulnerable with people is, I think, a whole 'nother thing. The word suggests a complete openness and exposure of self as in the case of a deer out in an open field on the first day of hunting season. Nothing glorious or good would happen to that deer based on its vulnerability to the hunters.

But with God, I would dare to be that deer in the open field and let Him be the hunter. He doesn't hunt with a gun. God is the Hound of Heaven after our heart. He's the lover of our soul and I don't think we're aware of that enough. If we were, we would be freely open and trusting and expose all of who we are to Him.

I don't think we make ourselves vulnerable with God unless we are absolutely assured that nothing negative can come from this act. If we make ourselves vulnerable with friends or family, or are exposed to human opinion and perspective, our vulnerability can result in some negative, terrible outcomes as well as positive beautiful results.

But there is nothing negative, hurtful or damaging- ever- that occurs when we make ourselves vulnerable with God. It is absolutely impossible to receive harm from Him when we are drawing close to Him. And one thought that I recently had due to something I heard in one of Dave Schmelzer's sermons is that God is attracted to our faith exerted, to our reaching out for Him. He finds our faith almost "irresistible".

Perhaps one aspect, one flavor of faith, is vulnerability. God might just find our vulnerability irresistible. I expose my weaknesses in God's sight and I bring myself before Him without any hiding, fudging, twisting of the truth. I make myself vulnerable and open before God. I do this out of faith. I might initially want to shrink back and not do this (make myself vulnerable) if I fear a "Holy God of Wrath" and do not see Him as the Abba Father who makes us right in His sight, who knows all about my weaknesses before I have verbally shared with Him what I painfully "see" about myself. But we are not of those who shrink back and are afraid, Scripture says. We are not.

We are bold as a lion, and as wide open before Him as trusting children who fear absolutely nothing from the One who loves them without end. It's a joy to be vulnerable when you are with Someone who can not, in their own nature, take advantage of your state and make you rue the day you trusted Him. THAT will never happen when you make yourself vulnerable to God.

All this to let you know that I have enjoyed the most amazing week or two. I've had more joy and lightness of being than I've had in a long time. Not that any major big things have happened, but there's been an increasing pull towards God's perspective of me and an accompanying willingness on my part to go for broke, loosen up and let it all out. With God. I'm not sure that I'm sharing any more than I normally do, or that I'm being any more honest with Him than I normally am.

It's more that I'm sharing everything with Him in a way that speaks boldness and trust even as I am wide open and exposed. I'm conscious that I am willingly making myself vulnerable in His presence. And yet there's a sense that He drew me in with absolute reassurance that nothing but good would come from this type of engagement with Him.

God made it a win-win situation for me. He's just too amazing for words.

The Big V

I've had a very interesting start to this New Year. It seems like a lot of shifting and shaking and then settling has occurred in certain relationships and now things seem a little clearer and obvious. By clearer I don't necessarily mean better or improved or enjoyable- but a lot of hidden things have been brought to the surface.

Cream will rise to the top, but so will problems and old issues. Maybe it's like doing some much needed house cleaning and you suddenly find out that back behind your stove, things are pretty bad. But you can now deal with it (such as invite your friends to come over and see what a lousy stove-cleaner you've been). Or clean it (in stoic silence and nobody will be the wiser after you've done your cleaning). Or just decide to ignore it (in which case the world won't fall apart at the thought of your dirty stove and neither will you).

Last night Abby and I watched the first half of Tess of the d'Urbervilles on Masterpiece Theatre. Abby wasn't too sold on this gloomy look at Victorian England's morals and biases, and by the end of this first segment aired, I decided "Enough!" as well. It is beautifully filmed and there's some interesting symbolism and authorial protests about the time, but it's also just plain depressing.

One television critic aptly described what was bothering me the whole time I watched the movie- it was Tess's "perpetual vulnerability" that seemed to haunt me, encourage me, scare and plague me. How vulnerable do I want to be? How vulnerable should I be? And what about the sub culture we're in- and how it defines vulnerability? Some people call it being completely honest and transparent. Some people think it's foolishness to be so vulnerable and overexposed. Some people prey on other's vulnerability and some people praise it. In terms of computer security, vulnerability has to do with a weakness in the system whereby you are open to a lot of problems, bugs, and viruses.

I'm not sure Scripture talks much about this trait of vulnerability, even though many professing Christians seem to be characterized by excessive vulnerability. (I could even be one of those confessing vulnerable ones). It certainly isn't listed as one of the fruit of the Holy Spirit, for example. If anything, I almost wonder if Jesus was alluding to this susceptibility to unnecessary exposure to trouble when He said to "be as wise as a serpent and as gentle (innocent) as a dove" (Matthew 10:16).

Both of these comparisons intrigue me and challenge me. It's not exactly a comforting thought to be compared to a snake in anything (unless you happen to be a snake lover). But it seems Jesus is getting at the discreet nature of a snake that has to plan when it strikes out and when it needs to quietly slither away. Likewise, when He mentions the dove, is He alluding to its innocence and purity ( a more obvious upfront conclusion) or something else as well? The Greek word akeraios not only means "innocent" but "unmixed" as well. And the first thing I think of is pure motives verses mixed motives.

Is vulnerability a good thing? And what about godly people, or people who are trying to know God- is vulnerability a sign of something intrinsically good in you, or something in you that is inviting trouble?

I think I often share (quickly share) some of my weaknesses, upfront, with people because it seems to set the stage better for their not being aghast, later, at what they find out about me. On the other hand, I can be guarded and private and a resolutely flaming introvert who demands privacy and a certain amount of cloistering away of my soul. At times I think I am too vulnerable, and at times I don't think I've been honest and "unmixed" at all.

Who's to say that the topic of vulnerability will lead us anywhere enlightening, but I'd really like to know if you struggle with this issue or if you see yourself clearly on one side of it. Cause all I know right now is that I have a dirty stove that needs to be cleaned, relational issues I have to sort through, and a disclaimer that all this talk of vulnerability started simply because I saw Tess of the d'Urbervilles's big eyes and vulnerable heart- and didn't know what to think after that.

Get with the Plan!

A roaring fire in the fireplace and mugs of hot tea and real, true fellowship- what more could you ask for? Nothing more. It was enough for me; more than enough.

Yesterday afternoon was one of those experiences that become a deep, good memory that you later will draw upon- if you remember and fix it in your soul, if you take it in and feast upon it while it is happening. And that's what I did. I just kept gulping in all the warmth in the room like a woman drinks in a mug of hot tea on a day when everything is so cold. Two wise women, experienced in living long and loving God, invited me into their home again, and into their hearts. They connected me with a new friend, an old acquaintance really, who understood some of the journey "issues" that I've been dealing with.

There was such warmth in the room, such sharing and transparency, that my spirit felt fed and fattened with gladness. Later I thought of the verse, My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness, and my mouth shall praise You with joyful lips (Ps 63:5). That's how rich a time it was.

And that just shows how previously dry and bony I felt. Frustration will do that to you. Frustration will suck the life out of you till you feel as dry and thin as a toothpick. Now, I knew I was going through a frustrating time these last months. I knew I was battling the leanness of soul that you can feel when you don't understand what God is doing with all the 'No's" He's saying to you. You want to believe God for "more" but you start to get to the point that you think the "more" has to do with "more problems, more trouble ahead". So you put up a flashing warning sign in your soul: Caution! That's all it says. And one word says it all.

Caution!- because you feel like you're on slippery ground- even if its as dry as a desert. Caution- because you want to love and embrace and give and hope- but your spirit says to you that you don't have enough left inside you to do all that. Frustration will dry out your bones and dry up your hope- even when you're working so hard to make this not be so.

And that "working so hard" part may just be the problem. You can't work for moments of grace. You can't work and strive for peace and relaxed enjoyment of another person's friendship. You can't work for love and encouragement. There has to be a spark of God's breath on the situation for all that to occur. There's has to be the divine touch of God and the child-like response of simply receiving-opening yourself up- for all that beauty to occur.

So now I feel well fed, fresh and full, green and vibrant with life. God gave me an afternoon of just what I needed- when I didn't know what I needed. I thought I needed Answers. He thought I needed life and relational honesty. I thought I needed a better Plan. He said He already made one for me. And maybe its better if I stop striving so hard, and just get with the plan. His plan.

"I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for" (Jer. 29:11, The Message)

A Heart to Heart Talk with Harry

I come out to the living room in the morning and usually find my journal and my Bible where I left them- and Harry sleeping on top of them.

I think he has a hankering for more of my thoughts and maybe he wonders if I talk about him in my journal. (I do- I write often how he is the only member of our family to always be so loving, so consistently sweet, and also how he is a nasty garbage picker as well, but that everyone has to have a couple bad traits; so, I can't complain about his).

But he not only sleeps with his head on my journal, but sometimes equally as close to the Bible. I think my dog has a yearning for some answers. But the kind of truth he's looking for has to do with his security: will we return for him when we leave him for a couple days to go on a trip? Will we feed him if he flips his bowl in the air as a sign that he's ready for the next serving of that delicious dry dog food that he is stuck with? (Bill tells me not to put anything on the dry food because Harry's stomach is so delicate, but I often give him a little chicken broth on top or some cooked carrot or a little smackerel of meat. This is why he comes to me and lays at my feet and follows me throughout the day. )

Harry seems to be looking at the Bible and at my journal trying to make a choice about substance and value: which one holds the answers? Which one should be dear to him?

I love how this dog makes me feel like every word I say (understood by him or not) is important to him. I know that the truth is he goes by the tone of my voice, and not by the actual meaning of the word, in discerning what I am saying. We all talk to him in that oochy-goochy voice that you use to talk to a baby, and he lifts his eyes to us and hangs on every word we say. He cares about being near us- even if he doesn't understand us.

But the wonder of my relationship with the God of the Universe is that He completely understands every thing I say and everything I haven't yet said- but will, shortly. And so I value my journal. I value my own thoughts, my questions and my prayers written out in short hand, long hand, and sometimes in a shaking hand, because God tells me He values them.

For some, it's audacity to write and journal and read the Bible all at the same time. Some think the Bible first, the Bible only, and never mind your thoughts. Some think the Word of God can not lie side by side with the words of men. But "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us"- and Christ was not afraid of the thoughts of man. While weak and wrong, often, they are still valid. They reflect our plight and our position here on earth: we only see "in part". God knows that. He still welcomes our thoughts and our questions, though. Isn't that amazing? He loves to see us bring our all before Him.

Obviously God's words are so much higher than ours, so much more in value and substance and power. Yet Harry seems to think the two- man's thoughts and God's words- are both beautiful and meaningful in their own way. And I believe he's got that thought right on the mark.

The Shallow End

The day before Thanksgiving is a day of errands and activity in preparation for homage to the great bird, the Turkey. Errands and chores and cleaning and baking- these are all shallow things, we suppose in our minds. This is not a day for lofty thinking and philosophical pursuits.

I have a list of things to do today. Having been away for five days, the house is lacking in attention, the fridge is almost empty (and needs cleaning) and I have two teenagers still sleeping who will wake up hungry and after eating breakfast, will want lunch, then dinner, and then my son will have a bunch of college-aged kids over who will congregate in our lower level and I better not run out of food. I have a lot to do today.

I have to pay bills today, also. I have to juggle the finances and make things stretch. I have to look at Alex's tuition bill and address that. I'm not even going to think about my husband's career crossroads and what needs to happen there.

I'm going to stick to the simple shallow things of ordinary life today. Do what I can do. And I'm going to remember what Oswald Chambers wrote about how the ordinary "shallow aspects of life" are "ordained by Him equally as much as the profound".

I'll try to remember that as I'm scraping dried apple crisp off the oven doors. I was taking the pan of apple crisp out of the oven last night, gloating over the crumbly browned topping, when I suddenly half dropped it. I caught it in time to keep half the contents in the pan (thinking to myself that I would tell my ravenous son, "Half is better than nothing". See how I have these moralistic little lessons ready on my tongue all the time?!). But the rest of the apple crisp splattered all over the hot oven, sending smoke and a pungent burning aroma throughout the house.

So I'm cleaning the oven today as well. But I'm going to remember that"we are safeguarded by the shallow things of life." And I like the idea of being safeguarded. I like the idea of anything having to do with being safe. So I'm listening to the words of Oswald Chambers. He's right. "We are so nauseatingly serious, so desperately interested in our own character and reputation, we refuse to behave like Christians in the shallow concerns of life."

So how does a Christian clean a dirty oven? How does a Christian pay the bills and grocery shop and scrub counters and clean toilet bowls? Not with a halo on their heads. Not even with a pious look on their face. If smoke is still in the air and the acrid smell of dried baked on brown sugar is filling their nostrils as they bend over the oven and scrape and scrub, the Christian will wrinkle her nose and wish she had held onto the apple crisp pan better. The Christian will scrub the toilets and not try to act like it's a great service for God. It's not. It's simple service. Its taking care of the shallow things of life.

And you can only do that if you're alive. You can only wrinkle your nose in disgust at burned apple crisp if you're still breathing, simply trying, still standing after all is said and done.

How Long is Your Quiet Time?

I want to thank Gi for recommending my blog for so many awards. She has touched my heart. But I've also been wrestling with a bit of internal conflict over this. I love the idea behind blog awards, how they encourage bloggers and help you to know that your voice is heard (and this really comes in handy on the day when you find yourself talking to your dog, telling him about your life, because no one else is listening!). But there is some protocol with receiving awards and taking responsibility for that award's intention and passing that award onward. I'm terrible with protocol. I'm behind on my social graces and visits to other blogs.

If you want a lovely Biblical phrase to explain how I feel right now, I would say I am hid in the cleft of the Rock. But a more accurate description is that God has cornered me, I have holed up in my house, things got very quiet in my life these last couple months, and I am now getting a bit used to this monastic existence. Ask my best friend, Mu, if this is true: I think I have seen her only once since my son left for college in late August.

And just when I finally got used to the quiet time God had put me in (it might even be called a Time Out), I got a couple interesting inquiries this month, out of the blue, concerning my writing and my blogging. This happened just when I had been journaling for a week about laying down my need to write, laying down my desire to write a book (or two or three). I had even contemplated ending my blog, Faith Fuel. There wasn't anger or frustration or resentment over this concluding thought. There was, instead, a sense that God had called me down a quiet, untraveled path for no other reason than to take me away from the need to have my voice heard.

I am one of five children, second to the youngest, and I'm the middle daughter. I had a great need to have my voice be heard when I was growing up, but I didn't say much. It was hard to get a word in. And besides, "Holly",my imaginary friend and diary, was such a good listener, and my father wasn't, and I didn't have any idea of who I was yet. So I didn't say much.

Then I married a beautiful quiet man (well, quiet in comparison to the loud, volatile family I had grown up in), and he had the time and was interested in wanting to know what I thought, how I felt. Along the way, these past 24 years, I started to grasp that God's love for me was a lot like my husband's love for me. God was opening my heart up and I started to pour out my thoughts and my hopes and...I didn't want to stop talking to Him, telling Him my dreams, trusting Him with my deepest thoughts.

I've grown and I'm not that quiet girl anymore. I've had no fear, these last number of years, about writing out my thoughts, talking out my ideas, expressing my wishes. I've been verbal and I've been emphatic and I've been expressive and I gesticulate a lot when I talk. But in the last couple months, I've gotten quieter. I'm not speaking monthly at Women's LIFE, like I was. I'm not sending out articles or trying to let my voice be heard. And I got weaned of the need to be heard.

Other than writing on my blog, I've been contemplative and quiet, a bit somber in my solitude but not sad, really. I might have been a tad depressed dealing with my son's absence at first, but then it turned into this extended Time Out period from God- and I didn't get put there specifically because I was bad and had acted up terribly. I know that. I think God put me in Time Out so that I would know the sound of His Voice and quit caring about the sound of my own.

I don't know whether I'm about to be taken out of this Time Out or whether I'll be in this cozy quietness for a while longer. But I don't feel hurt or betrayed by God- even if I might have at first. I had always read that Jesus spent a lot of time continually withdrawing from crowds in order to be alone with His Father, in prayer, in soul searing reflection. They were literal times of him kneeling on dry ground, in prayer, perhaps so that his heart would not become dull and dry.

I might not ever have a book published and my voice may just go as far as this blog. Then again, it could wind up shouting from mountain tops or across radio air waves. Who knows where and how God will let your voice be heard? I just know I have to give my all to hear His voice. And if I hear Him better holed up in my house, homeschooling my daughter, spending lots of time alone and in reflection- then so be it.

"It's ingrained in us that we have to do exceptional things for God- but we do not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things of life, and holy on the ordinary streets, among ordinary people- and this is not learned in five minutes," writes Oswald Chambers. I am an ordinary woman living an unnoticed life- for the most part- and yet my existence is noticed by the Creator of the Universe and His eyes are on me, so I'm all ears. It's His Voice that I want heard round the world, after all. His Voice.

Top or Bottom- This Momma Has it All

First I was hot Mama, a couple days ago (see the previous post for clarification!), and now I'm a TopMomma! http://www.topmomma.com/

Apparently I'm on the front, home page of TopMomma.com! Now I don't know how I got there, and I don't know what this is exactly, but since when has confusion and blundering around stopped me from getting anywhere?!!



"Mommy bloggers are sorted by popularity, which is based on clicks and referrals. When a new mom enters the roster, the least popular one gets pushed off the site. Think of it as a “mommy time out”…With a bit of luck, and a really supportive bra, you just may end up as TOP MOMMA – which earns you bragging rights and a spot in the elusive “Hall of Fame..."

Okay, so does this mean people have to vote for me? Am I still a top mama even if no one responds to this at all? Do I still have worth and value even if I fall off this "hall of fame" chart I am supposedly on for a brief fleeting moment?

And how coincidental is it that tonight I am teaching a workshop on "Breaking the Bondage of Maintaining an Image"?!! Here I have a momentary uptick in my Image, and I am about to speak about breaking the bondage of trying to maintain an Image!

What are some of my key points? I'm glad you asked. Let's just look at two lies that we wind up believing when it comes to trying to LOOK GOOD.

1. Myth #1 FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT
Even if you "Fake it till you Make it"- you'll never really make it. Sorry, but that's the bad news. As to when you get to the point of having "made it" I don't think we really have an objective indicator for that. The measuring mark just keeps getting moved up, you have to run on that hamster wheel forever, and you'll still never "MAKE IT". You'll never get to that day when all think well of you and YOU think well of yourself. Let's just put that lie where it belongs: in the garbage can!


2. Myth #2 IF YOU DON'T LOOK GOOD, HANG OUT WITH SOMEONE WHO LOOKS WORSE THAT YOU- AND MAYBE YOU'LL LOOK BETTER IN COMPARISON!
At one of the low points in my life, years ago, I decided to befriend a janitor at nursery school my daughter was going to. This was a time in my life when finances were miserable, our housing situation was precarious (tell you more about that some time) and I felt about as wonderful as a frog in a pot of boiling water. I first started talking to this janitor at the school because he was a sweet humble man and I couldn't cope with hanging around anyone who was successful, powerful, and making huge advances in their life. The thing is, as I got talking with this man on almost a daily basis, I found out he was a man of peace, a man of inner rest and tranquility, a man who knew that "no weapon formed against him would prosper". This was a man who could have been the CEO of a company- or he could be a janitor- and neither position would make him feel more self worth.

I learned something from that janitor. He changed the course of my life. Not because I suddenly became successful and wealthy, but because I found out what it looked like to have the "secret of contentment (Phil. 4:10-20). And when I looked at that smiling, rejoicing janitor, I thought to myself, "I want to be like him. I want to know, really know, what he knows."

So, Top Momma, Hot Momma, Weary Momma, Waiting Momma- whatever momma I am, in whatever circumstances I find myself in, I can "do it." Yup, that's right. I can LIVE a wildly satisfying, abundant life, with my eyes on Him, and know no limitations to peace and joy. He says I can have it. And I believe Him.

Breaking the Bondage of Maintaining an Image

I realized that after mentioning, recently, my vision and hearing problems, and then talking about my back I just threw out, that I sound like I'm falling apart! You might be picturing me, hunched over, hobbling, squinting, and calling out,"Huh? What did you say deary?"! I can almost picture some of your sympathetic murmurings, "That poor dear, she's really a mess"!

Well, I am a bit of a mess. On some days I realize this, and on other days I am packaged up quite nicely, thank you. But it all depends on the moment, the month, the miracle of grace, as to how I am doing. I know that full well.

It's appropriate that this week is my next LIFE Workshop I'm teaching. This was planned out months ago, but what a coincidence: I am teaching a workshop called "Breaking the Bondage of Maintaining an Image."

Last night, I lay in bed, flat on my back with a heating pad under my lower back, watching a beautiful but somewhat depressing PBS movie called, Miss Austen Regrets. They depicted Jane as a woman who sipped a lot of wine, spoke her mind freely, and looked like she regretted almost everything while having her speaking that she did not. A bit confusing for me.

The subject of Regrets is a fascinating one. No one wants to have a lot of regret at the end of their life. I would not want to get to the end of my life and have regret over failing to follow God into every thing He called me to. I am purposing to have no regret, each day, in how I live, and in how I seek God. It's wholehearted living I'm after- and as James would add, "with no doubting" because as we know when you doubt you're like a wave of the sea tossed about, and I feel nauseous just thinking about that image.

One of the best ways to go wholeheartedly after God's will for your life is to give up wanting people's approval of you. But this is no small thing. We struggle with this constantly. For this matter, I look at the Biblical figure of David as my mentor. God allowed David's descendant to rule on the throne "because David did what was right in the eyes of the LORD , and had not turned aside from anything that He commanded him all the days of his life , except in the matter of Uriah the Hittite" . (1 Kings 15:5).

Yes, David messed up in that "matter" of adultery, and I'm sure he messed up repeatedly in attitude and sins of the heart. Look through the Psalms and you see him calling out for God to search his heart because he knows only God can keep our heart on target. But David continually longed for God's approval of him, God's blessing and God's favor. It was God that David looked up to when the world looked down at him.

What I look like in God's eyes is the key thing, isn't it? People will not always have the complete picture in mind. They couldn't possibly know all that God has called you to, or allowed you to go through for certain reasons. People will never fully understand the way that you take. But whose eyes are always on you? In whose eyes does it matter what we look like?

I don't have enough energy to go around fine tuning my image and wondering what I look like to others. I have been given, though, enough strength to seek after Him, enough hope of hearing His "Well Done, good and faithful servant" so that the roar of the crowd or the jeers of an enemy do not sound like anything other than noise in my ear- because my eyes are on Him. And most importantly, His eyes are on me.

Brave New Blogging World

Mu and I now have the same cell phone service provider. This could be serious trouble. We always connect, as it is, at least one day a week for an hour or two (or three, if they haven't kicked us out of the place). Face to face, steaming coffee wafting up between us, we relish the comfort of not holding back our thoughts from each other. But now we can connect whenever we want, by cell phone. It's free- since we have the same provider.

It's that sense that we are able to easily be in touch that comforts and stabilizes me. Mu dispenses advice that is tailor made for me. But more than that, knowing her- over these last five plus years- has been a form of accountability for my pursuits and dreams as well. Her memory is sharp. She never forgets a longing that I voice, a goal that I mention, or a dream that I start to describe. For some reason, I "see" myself more clearly when I am with her. I don't fudge on who I am and what I am purposing to do. I usually feel bolder and ready to "strike when the iron is hot".

The problem is that the iron cools quickly when I don't have her near to affirm that I haven't lost all my marbles in opening up my heart and my mouth every time I write or speak. But I can't have Mu on call 24 hours a day. And there are many times when I am with other people or writing something down to share with a group, and suddenly I am aware of how hard it is to honestly disclose what I am thinking, what I really feel, and who I am. The cost of self-disclosure comes up again. I have to ask myself once more, Now what's the price I have to pay here to say this?

There's a power and a danger in self-disclosure. This is an increasingly Tell-All World. But no one talks about the havoc that is wrought when people bare their souls in a moment of exuberant freedom, forgetting the morning-after feeling of alarm and confusion over what they have done.

Some people carefully share intimate details of their lives, knowing what the cost is to themselves and their families. Some people have been gearing up for years to share more and more of themselves in a concerted effort to be authentic and free from the heavy constraints of a privacy that really is just another wall.

No one can push you any farther than where you are, in this journey. No one should. If you blog, every time you share about your life, you have committed to the page something the entire world could potentially read. Authors have to deal with this when they write a memoir or share their journey through a dark time in their life. Even just sharing with a potential friend something about yourself is an act of self-disclosure that you can later feel glad over or regret.

Say the word Friendship and some think it's two men going hunting together, or two women gabbing together about shopping and make-up. (Just for the record, Mu and I think that going out shopping for clothes is about exciting as getting a hangnail removed). Friendships are about self-disclosure and connecting- and connecting is a powerful and sometimes dangerous thing. (Ask an electrician about this).

Connecting with the world through blogging is the new frontier. Am I ready to share more of myself with the world? And why, exactly, would I do this? These are the questions I am asking. Never mind if I asked these already, some time ago. They have surfaced again.

(To be continued tomorrow...)

Beyond Words

The movie, Persuasion, was good. Not great. Not as good as the film with Ciaran Hinds starring as Captain Wentworth. I thought the character development in last night's adaptation was weak. I could not connect with this version of Captain Wentworth, and could not see what motivated him, really. The previous dark haired Ciaran Hinds with his blazing eyes and strong set of his chin said so much more than last night's version of Captain Wentworth.

Before the movie, we had a family birthday party for Alex. He is 18. My father, brother, two sisters, and one nephew came to celebrate with us and to enjoy one of the best apple pies I have made in a long time. I may have just gotten my old baking touch back again. I didn't burn it. It wasn't dry or tasteless.

One thing that is never dry at these family gatherings is our conversations. Last night's rowdy conversation around the dining room table covered the republicans and democrats running for president, the efficacy of drinking raw milk verses pasteurized, how Americans use too much anti-bacterial hand soap and we may need to get back to playing in the dirt more, and the recent trouble my Mom is having with depression, again.

"Mom has the parapatitas," my brother said as he and my Dad entered through the front door last night. That word meant something to our family even it made no sense to anyone else. We talked about some of the signs of her health, how to read them, and how to know if it's okay so far; how to tell if we're in a rough sea in a tippy boat or if we're just gliding quietly, very quietly, on our own course of needing to be left alone.

I asked Dad how we got the expression "parapatitas". There's a Spanish expression "patitas en al aire" meaning you're flat on your back with your feet up in the air. Mom, at one point in describing her version of that phrase Dad used, just added "para" to the one word she heard. Some where along the way, we adopted it as one of the expressions we use to describe when Mom is feeling the effects of age, ill health, emotional fatigue. Some of us feel these things more acutely. Some of us have bodies that shut down when weary. Some of us battle this onslaught less effectively than we'd like to.

So there we were enjoying a good family discussion, eating a remarkably good pie for someone who hasn't done well lately in the baking department, and missing the one person who always makes our times lively and sweet. We were celebrating the birthday of a young man who is on the launching pad, ready to take off towards his dreams. We were also celebrating being a family, through thick and thin.

I looked around at everyone at the table. You could see everybody's expression, hear their words, and hear a bit of what was going on inside them. But it's always just a bit. There's way more deep down inside. Some of us just don't express everything we're thinking. And some of us look like we are.

But it's just the tip of the iceberg.

Try to Measure That

Last night we had another family gathering- this time with my oldest brother and his family, and my older sister, Kris, and her husband and her "son", a little white pekingese named Milo. Other than his little puddle on the carpet, Milo was a perfect little gentleman, and Harry was a galant host, allowing Milo to play with his toys. Add in chocolate cake and mixed fruit pie, and it was a sweet evening of family fellowship.

Now it's Saturday. It's the calm before the storm. New Year's Eve is Monday. All resolutions need to be considered and formed by then. I'm not working on this tomorrow. Tomorrow is a day of rest for me- and I don't want to be mentally grappling with anything other than which book I'll read, and what kind of tea I'll make, as I settle in for a quiet afternoon.

So today is the day for Work, for reflection on the past year and serious consideration of what I am aiming for next year. Notice I say aiming and not what I am going to "accomplish". I'm not so sure that this year I will have measurable resolutions.

I can hear the outcry of the purists who say unless you can measure your goals and pursuits, you can't tell when you achieve them. I can see their point- but it's only a point of view, not the total picture of truth.

The truth is we live in a society that measures everything and thrives on productivity, numbers and noticeable achievements. The Church at large has fallen into this frenzy, I think. But what about all that happened in the heart of a person, in a circle of praying saints who held hands and wept together over someone's trial or sickness? What about the times when we sit with someone, listening to their pain, throwing away all recognition of time? Should the Church quantify such giving of the heart? Can you quantify the growth of a soul learning to trust, learning to run to God?

What I have to deal with is not the direction the Church at large is going in. That is not my responsibility other than who I am in the Church at large. I have my own little boat to row, and even at that, I often put the oars in the boat, lie back, and let God's current of love take me for a while- take me on a journey I do not know where I am going. I think of Anne of Green Gables, lying in her rowboat as it filled with water, journeying down stream, thinking of herself as the Lady of Shalott when really she was just a young silly girl in a sinking row boat. But oh, the journey she was on, for a while. (And handsome Gilbert did save her at the end).

The last time I knew I was on a journey to an unknown destination was when we sold our dream house we had built, packed up the car and the truck, and moved down south...not knowing where we were going. Literally. That was over three years ago, and I don't know what I would quantify about that experience. But what I learned through that adventure into the unknown changed my life, changed my heart and affected my mindset.

My best friend,Mu, wants me to write about this journey I took, that year we walked deliberately into the unknown for some very known reasons. I am hesitant to write about that year, much less dwell on all the reasons we took that journey to God-only-knows-where. We were at the end of ourselves, out of fuel for our dreams, low on courage and encouragement. We were too widely known by family and people in our suburban area, yet nobody really knew the hurt and the hope we carried within us. We needed to get away. We needed to go someplace and find out how to "see" again, and how to perceive God's moving in our life, how to hear Him anew and hope anew.

Ever since that year, ever since our return back to New York, we have been quiet about all that changed within us. It is not easily quantified and categorized. What happened to us and in us is something mysterious and amorphous- I don't know how you would tally it all up.

This past year, 2007, was a year similar to our year down south. I can't really say I accomplished anything significant and statistically spectacular. I didn't even become physically strong or muscular, like I had wanted, because I got sick with Mono this past spring. I have only now started to feel normal again. I am eying that stairmaster and am readying to get back on it, for twenty minutes a day, minimum. But other than that one quantifiable pursuit, I have nothing else in mind for 2008, ...not yet.

I am open to dreaming, though. I am counting the cost you must pay to have a dream. You have to be open to hurt, be open to surprises, be willing to work, but more than that, be willing to feel like God sent you down a river without oars, your heart pounding fast with dread and delight. But then you hear God whisper in your ear, "I will show you the way to go".

Think about God's leading, His grace for the journey, His surprising resources when we are at our end. Just try to measure all that. I, myself, wouldn't know where to begin.

Getting to Know You

In the afternoon, yesterday, I got together with my best friend, Mu, at our (now) favorite meeting place. It's called a bistro but it should have the word cafe in its name. It's a quiet place with leather arm chairs pulled up to circular small tables. We usually sit by the window, split a sandwich and drink coffee, and talk till the cows come home (or until our cell phones ring and one of our kids is calling us).

She and I connect without trying. We have little in common, really, except our way of looking at things. We want to grow. We want to see each other develop her strengths and abilities. We are on such the same wave length that we surprise each other continually with our intersections of action and thought.

"I want you to listen to this husband and wife radio show, Lu" she told me in between bites of the grilled zucchini and turkey sandwich (that was her idea). Mu is always thinking about my writing and speaking. "The wife has a book she's just written. You can find it on the New Release Shelf at the library."

She told me the author's name and I interrupted her with "I just got that book out a couple days ago! I'm reading it right now!" Mu only has to think a positive strategy or idea and I'm already picking it up on my subconscious radar.

I can't tell you how amazingly "simpatico" we are in each other's company. It is so different than when I am with my extended family- even though these people have known me for over forty years. How can this be? How can I be so loved but misread by people who have known me longer and seen me go through more things than Mu has in the six short years she has known me?

I went to pick up my daughter at my parents' house last night. Both my sisters were there, my one bachelor brother, my visiting niece, my one nephew just returned from Italy. I grabbed a few bites- for my supper- of left over potatoes and gravy, after having thrown a spaghetti dinner together for Bill and Alex back at home.

As I ate a few bites I listened to the joking and the teasing going on. One sister was bragging about her dance ability and then getting teased about how she dances like an American rather than the Half-Latina she is. I was sure they would aim for me next, bringing up my embarrassing disco dancing past, which is probably the reason I so draw away from trying to get into the ballroom dance scene that half my family is into. I don't want to add any fuel to their fire.

These family members know my awkward childhood scenes, my erratic dating history (of course one sister was sketchy on the details, remember?), they know my college days of confusion but not the inner pain, and have seen my entrance into marriage and motherhood. They're sure they know me well.

I have never been more sure, though, that they do not know me as well as they think they do. Or if they do know me, then who is that silly, falling, failing person they keep calling Lauren?! I don't recognize myself when they depict me. It's not that they're trying to be mean, but their depiction of me is skewed a bit to my weak side.

My recent revelation is that the person we are (the person we become) is the person who is given grace, and then more grace. That's why my husband knows me so differently than my parents and siblings do. When I met him, when I got to know him, I asserted any part of me that I wanted to, any boldness or opinion that might never have surfaced before, growing up. I tested the waters, so to speak, to see if I could come out of hiding when I was with him. I dared to speak my mind- because he couldn't tell me that's not who I was! The Lauren that came out and declared herself was not a surprise to my husband but was a bit of a surprise to me. I'm still getting to know this bold woman with a history of fear.

In Lori Smith's book, A Walk with Jane Austen, (http://www.austenquotes.com/)she writes about her self identity and her relationship with her parents, as she thought about Jane Austen's relationship with her own family.

"Necessarily, as children and parents, our perspectives on each other are slightly skewed. In some ways we see each other better than anyone else because we have the closeness of everyday life in which to observe every fault and every goodness, but the faults are more apparent somehow. In some ways, we get into patterns of thinking about each other, and its hard to get out of those ruts and see each other as we really are."

Oh, are the faults more apparent! That's all we seem to know of our siblings- their faults, their embarrassing moments. How many times do you go to a family gathering and have your siblings rehearse all your strong moments of glory and accomplishment?! It doesn't happen.

The contrast of what I have when I'm with Mu and what I experience when I am with my family is drastic. While I love my siblings and my parents, I do not always learn to love myself more when I am with them. That's the plain truth. I'm not so much disappointed with them as I am aware of this unsettling truth. I am just becoming aware of this dynamic- that if you're looking for great grace to grow, to be upon you, spend time with a good friend who "sees" you. That friend could very well be a sibling or a parent, but more than likely it won't be. With a parent or sibling, "there is always an undercurrent, which we try to read and interpret and sometimes ignore- all these exhausting perceptions."

Sometimes we long for our family to speak better of us, to speak about us with an eye on the future, and not always on our past when we were small, both physically and emotionally so. If you want to grow, stretch out and expand your horizons and your threshold for change, love your family, yes; but find someone who can handle you becoming someone they have not yet known.

Because "a friend loves at all times" and this kind of love is a love that copes with you becoming, growing, maturing, and developing. This kind of love is not for the faint of heart or for those who love to remember you in the past.

If love perseveres and "always believes the best", then love has to consider the present and the future. Because the best is yet to come.