rasgado abajo de las paredes
This is my new favorite website. I used it to come up with the subject line for this post, which (according to the site) means "tearing down the walls".
Tonight at church someone gave me a pie and a coffee cake, I guess to take to work with me tomorrow. I accepted the food, even though I knew that no one at my office needs anything more to eat. For some reason, I felt like I should take it. When I got home, I knew why.
As I was getting out of my car, I looked across the street and saw that the windows in the house across from me were all lit up. Instantly I knew why I had taken those pastries.
I went into the house, dropped my stuff off, and fed my dogs ... then I ignored the doubts that were rising, grabbed the pie and cake and started across the street. Please understand that I have never actually met these particular neighbors. I have shared smiles and waves with a Hispanic man who I believe lives in that house, but these exchanges have always taken place across the safety of a street and/or sidewalk. I have never known his name, and we have never much got past the joking "Tenga un buen día" from me and the "Have a good day" from him.
As I stumbled up the dark path to the porch, I felt a moment of nervousness but I pushed on and soon found myself on the porch of complete strangers. I could hear people talking in Spanish, and I could see the flicker of a tv as I knocked on the door. Soon a girl probably around 20 answered and said "hey", so I asked if she spoke English. She said yes, and I admit - I breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, I had run to my computer before heading over, and I had looked up several different phrases and repeated them to myself several times. But it seemed that all of those phrases had slipped away during the 40 second walk from my door to theirs.
They were eating dinner, and they invited me to join them. I politely declined, and offered them my food gifts. Every single person at the table got up and hugged me, and I learned that Chaco is the name of the man I had been waving to and laughing with for several months now. His wife's name is Rena, and their daughter Brisada and her little son Daniel live there too. The incredibly strange thing was the immediate comfort I felt with these near-strangers with whom I couldn't communicate very well. They humored me as I tried to speak only in Spanish to them, and they made me feel appreciated and welcome the moment I stepped in the door. I learned that they came here from Mexico six years ago, and that they like to go to the beach. Ok, so we didn't get into a very deep conversation, but we knocked a hole through a wall that was there before.
I cannot describe how beautiful and precious were the smiles on the faces of these four individuals. There is a realness there, there is a story behind each of those smiles. I have a feeling that each of those people, even little 1.5 year old Daniel, knows things about life that I will never, ever know. Because of that, I want to honor them and somehow learn and glean from them. There is so much I want to know about them, and I want to somehow tell Chaco that there were some mornings when his smile and his "Good mornin'" in broken English were the bright spot in my day. But for tonight, we hugged and learned each others' names, and I believe we started something that has nothing to do with language or with cultures or with the color of our skin.
This morning I heard a sermon that reminded me of how Jesus was constantly living his life for other people, especially the people that society overlooked. I used to live my life that way, and I don't know when I stopped. There are people all around us who we walk by and don't even see. We are surrounded by souls who are heading
somewhere, and each of us, at any given moment, has the opportunity to interact with these people. What could possibly be more important than experiencing the privilege of connecting with another human being? How can we be so busy that we miss those moments that we will never be able to recapture? How can we live 20 feet from people and not even know their names?
My new friends told me to come back again for dinner sometime, and I can't wait to do so. I will definitely be studying my Spanish dictionary before then, but I have a feeling that even if I were to go knowing nothing more than I did tonight ... God would somehow translate the warmth and the smiles and the hugs into truth and love and Him.
every season
I have always felt strongly that nature provides powerful evidence of God, and I have long been fascinated by the changing seasons and the analogies that we see there ... I just came across this song today, and it's one of those ones I wish I had written.
Every evening sky, an invitation
To trace the patterned stars
And early in July, a celebration
For freedom that is ours
And I notice You
In children’s games
In those who watch them from the shade
Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder
You are summer
And even when the trees have just surrendered
To the harvest time
Forfeiting their leaves in late September
And sending us inside
Still I notice You when change begins
And I am braced for colder winds
I will offer thanks for what has been and was to come
You are autumn
And everything in time and under heaven
Finally falls asleep
Wrapped in blankets white, all creation
Shivers underneath
And still I notice you
When branches crack
And in my breath on frosted glass
Even now in death, You open doors for life to enter
You are winter
And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced
Teaching us to breathe
What was frozen through is newly purposed
Turning all things green
So it is with You
And how You make me new
With every season’s change
And so it will be
As You are re-creating me
Summer, autumn, winter, spring
-- Nichole Nordeman
Recently I did something really wrong to a friend, someone I care about very much. As soon as I committed the wrong (and even while I was doing it), I felt terrible. The offense hadn’t been well-thought out or planned, it was something I gave into in a moment of weakness. Ok, or maybe 10 or 15 moments of weakness. I had thought that maybe I would have some kind of satisfaction when it was over. But instead, all I felt was a gnawing feeling inside of me telling me that I had done something terrible. I tried praying and asking God to help me forget, thinking that if I was ok with God then I would be ok in the end. Maybe the person wouldn’t ever find out, and telling him about it might just cause more harm than good. I guess I thought about it long enough that I convinced myself that my logic was somehow sound, and that it really could work out the way I was planning.
That night I couldn’t sleep, and I actually got to the point where I was physically ill. Even through this I talked myself into believing that I could get through this if I just held on and stayed strong. The next morning I woke up with a heavy feeling in my heart, and I knew that there was no way I could talk that weight away. But I continued to pray and ask God to take this burden from me and to give me relief. Instead I felt God very strongly urging me that the only way I would find relief was to confess my wrongdoing to my friend. It was what I already knew in the deepest part of my heart, but I fought it. I fought it hard. I had visions of this person yelling and being upset and telling me he never wanted to see me again, and as far as I could see he would have been completely justified in doing so. I had violated a sacred trust, and I recognized the severity of my actions.
Finally I called the friend and talked to him about some other things, but still couldn’t bring myself to broach the subject that was so heavy on my heart. I felt like I was living out the story of the elephant in the room that everyone knows is there but no one talks about. I was sure that somehow my friend knew, even though another part of me was convinced there was no way he could ever find out. After I got off the phone with him (without mentioning a word about what I had done), the pressure in my chest seemed to intensify. I was even more convinced than before that I had to tell him. I guess the hardest part wasn’t even his possible reaction (because I felt that I completely deserved to be shunned) but instead the disappointment in myself that I would do such a thing as I had done. Of course we all like to see ourselves in the best light possible, and we hesitate to believe or accept the possibility that we are not as good as we want to be, or even as good as the self that we present to others.
The weight continued to pull on me throughout the day until I couldn’t take it anymore. I wrote a letter and headed to my friend’s house. I think it was probably the most pathetic letter I had ever written, because I couldn’t seem to find the words to convey what it was that I was feeling. It may have also been the shortest letter that I have ever written – I tend to write a lot, but the words really just wouldn’t come that day. As I approached his house I had so many thoughts of turning around and forgetting the whole thing. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew the possible outcome of losing this friend was a chance I had to take, compared to the possibility of our friendship going on with this huge wall between us – a wall that I had erected in just a few moments of stupidity and selfishness.
I got to his house and it hurt me to even look at him. I felt shame and the inability to even try to explain myself to him. So I just handed him the letter and waited for the wrath to come. The anticipated wrath never came. This hurt even more, and I felt even worse, because I knew in my heart that I was still holding back. I had only told him about part of what I had done. Surely if he knew the full scope of my act, then he would be overcome with anger toward me. I lingered and tried to formulate words to express the rest of my confession to him, but nothing seemed adequate. I talked to him and he actually gave me the opportunity to tell him about the rest of what I did, but I panicked and lied. Things just seemed to be getting worse, and I was filled with an inner turmoil that I had never before experienced. First, I had done wrong to someone for whom I held an incredible amount of respect and appreciation … now I had lied to cover up that wrong. Eventually the level of disgust with myself rose up so high that I had to force myself to leave. As I drove away, I looked in the rearview mirror and broke into sobs as I saw empty eyes looking back at me.
I went home and fell to my knees, hoping that somehow I would find some relief in knowing that I had at least been partially honest with my friend. But relief did not come – if anything, I now felt worse. I could not understand myself … I so desperately wanted to remove the thorns in the flesh of the trust that I had built with this friend, but instead I seemed to be pushing them in even further. I ended up calling my friend and admitting that I lied, and he told me that he already knew. To some people this news might have been a relief, because they would feel as if they had surrendered before getting “caught” … to me, this news made the pain even more real. As my friend reassured me of his forgiveness, I felt pangs of hurt travel throughout my heart. Deep down I knew that I in no way deserved his forgiveness … in fact every part of me wanted to cry out to him NOT to forgive me, but to be angry with me and to yell at me. However, the awful beauty of it all is that my friend refused to take the easy approach. He harbored no anger and held no grudge, but he lovingly forgave me.
I have been through some crazy things in my life, and I learned a while back that I always seem to have an easier time forgiving others than forgiving myself. I’m not sure why this is, but it’s definitely true with me. It is true today, as I still struggle to understand how someone could willingly let go of a wrong I did and treat me as if I had never done it. But I am wrong to be this way – I know in my heart that I am, and yet still somehow it’s almost easier to go on being wrong than it is to work at being right. The reasons that I forgive others – those same reasons apply to me. God commands us to forgive, whether that means forgiving others or forgiving myself. The amazing thing, and the thing that is maybe the most difficult thing for me to grasp, is that this forgiveness doesn’t have all that much to do with me and everything to do with Christ. I have this tendency to think that somehow I can work out my own forgiveness, and there is absolutely no way I could ever do enough good or nice things to earn the right to forgive myself. Christ has already done everything on the cross that would ever need to be done in order for me to be forgiven, and it would be nothing less than an insult to suggest that what he did wasn’t enough. For me to spend today wallowing in self-pity and continuing on in this guilt trip – that would be dishonoring to God.
The point is not how many wrongs I do or don’t do – the point is what I do after it. I knew that I had to tell my friend, regardless of whether he forgave me or not. I knew that I had to tell him, regardless of whether there was ever a chance of him finding out what I did. I had done wrong, I had broken a trust, I had misrepresented myself and my actions … I had undermined part of the very foundation of my friendship with him. “Making it right” is almost always messy, and usually it’s the difficult thing to do, but in the end it’s the ONLY thing to do. If we are really Christians and if we really love other people, there is no option but to put ourselves out there and say “I messed up, and I will probably mess up again tomorrow” and close our eyes and wait to feel the sting of reality or the force of being pushed out of someone’s life. It’s what we do when we come before Christ. Christ can see through us, and he knows every wrong we have ever done and every thing we will ever do. But whether or not he knows about it, or whether or not he will punish us for it, we need to tell him about what we have done. The wonderful thing with God, the incomprehensible thing that doesn’t make sense and isn’t easy to accept – is that somehow, for some reason He tells us, “I forgive you.”
Yesterday I saw Christ in my friend. I felt His love in the arms of a companion. I don’t understand it, and I definitely don’t feel like I deserve it, but I tearfully embrace this forgiveness and love. And I tell myself that even if I don’t feel like forgiving myself, I know I will … and I know that – like so many things in life – as I step forward in faith and choose to forgive, the feelings will come later. They’re already starting to come a little bit right now. Recently I re-read the story of the prodigal son … I have always loved that story, but I have a really difficult time making a real-life application. I think if I were the son in the story, I would have a really difficult time accepting the embrace of the loving father. But it’s what God calls us to do, so today I throw myself in His arms, and I plan to stay there for a while.
ponderings from the pool
Today was my niece's 6th birthday. I spent most of the morning and early afternoon at her party ... it was a pool party. This morning, it almost looked like the party wasn't going to happen, or that it was going to change from a pool party to a board game party. The sky was gray and it looked like it might rain. Spirits were low as we filled up water balloons and hoped for the best. As we drove toward the mountains to the park where the party was going to be, I noticed that my niece seemed to be the happiest one in the van. She chattered and jumped up and down in her seat and was obviously not affected much at all by the ominous clouds that surrounded us as we drove.
We arrived at the pool to discover that we were the only ones there except for the lifeguards. Bekah (my niece) remained unphased and grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bathroom with her so that we could change into our suits together. Her smile and energy were infectious, and we couldn't change fast enough for her liking. We raced out to the pool and stuck our toes into the water. Her cute little nose wrinkled up as she said "it's cold!" I asked her if it was too cold for her, in a teasing way ... she recognized the challenge in my voice. She headed for the ladder into the shallow end and eased her way into the water -- I went straight to the diving board, knowing that the best way for me to get into the water is to just
get into the water. So we looked at each other from opposite ends of the pool, and I jumped off the diving board straight into the chilly water. As I kicked myself up toward the surface, I found myself unable to speak for a few seconds. The shock quickly wore off though as I plunged back beneath the water and swam over to the beautiful little girl giggling on the other side of the rope.
We laughed and played and I rubbed her little legs in attempt to rub away the goosebumps. Eventually the other party guests started arriving, and some of the mothers claimed lounge chairs along the pool. Somehow I became the designated pool adult, as all of the kids changed into their suits and inched their way into the chilly water. I was having so much fun that I found myself disappointed when I heard the announcement that it was time to eat pizza.
We got out (I was the last one out) and ate pizza and watched presents get opened, and then ate birthday cake ... and I ended up back in the pool with a few kids. It was still cloudy out, but it was warming up, and there were a few moments when the sun broke through the clouds and gave us glimpses of hope that the weather might turn around. Throughout this whole process I noticed that I had somehow fallen into my usual role of the "fun" aunt, or the one who plays with the kids while all the grown-ups stand around and talk about mortgages and car payments and the next big birthday party. I noticed also the looks that I was getting from some of the mothers who were reclining in the lounge chairs. These were women who had swimsuits on, but they obviously had no intention of swimming. I have a feeling that they wouldn't have been getting into the water even if the sun had been shining.
There is a truth that I learned several years ago when I first started working with kids -- it's a deeper lesson that can be applied to other parts of life. During the summer after my junior year of college, I worked as a nanny for two of the prettiest little girls I have ever seen. They were from California, but they spent the summers in NY with their dad. They were girls in the girliest sense of the word. If it were up to them, we would have spent every day at the mall or inside painting our toenails. But somehow that summer we arrived at our compromise. I would paint their toenails after we went and played at the park or did something else outside. So we ended up spending most of our days at the pool. Remember that this was about 8 years ago, one of those times in my life when I was in incredible shape ... I
know that I looked good in my two-piece bathing suit, and I had quite a solid tan too from all the time I spent outside on my mountain bike or going on runs. Anyway, that's really unimportant ... but I remember the feeling I would get when we would go to that pool. The pool was actually at a hotel in downtown Rochester. It was a nice hotel, and people from the community could buy memberships at the health club and pool. On any given day that we went, there were at least a handful of women lounging alongside the pool "tanning" or doing whatever it is that someone does when they just lie there and do absolutely nothing.
I would walk into the pool area with Olivia and Phoebe and assorted floaties and beach balls in tow, and I would get looks that I don't even want to remember getting. We would jump into the water and splash and do cannonballs and just act silly ... I would swim along the pool floor and let the girls "surf" on my back ... we just had FUN. And I can remember looking at the women laying by the pool and wonder if they were having fun -- actually I remember the day that Olivia asked me what those ladies were doing, and I remember that I couldn't give her an answer. Some of them were pretty, some of them weren't ... but that really didn't matter at all. Those days taught me a lesson that still rings true today -- at pools and in life, there are those of us who sit on the sidelines, looking pretty or trying to do something that will make them look pretty (working on tans, I guess) and then there are those of us who dive off the edges and hurl themselves into the water and laugh and have a good time and don't care if they're getting dirty looks because they splashed some water on the people in the lounge chairs.
Summer after summer, as I continued to work with kids and take them to pools, I found this theme playing out again and again. Last summer was perhaps the epitome of this kind of thing, as it was the first summer I was in North Carolina, and there seemed to be more women and lounge chairs than ever before, and the children I was watching were the splashiest I had cared for to date. On my first visit to a pool last June, I wondered if maybe it was time for me to act more like a grown-up, and to take my spot in a lounge chair and not in the pool with the kids. I think I even tried it for a few hours. But I got hot in the sun, and even though I had a book with me I found I couldn't concentrate it because my attention was being constantly directed toward the children shouting and splashing in the water ... so I acquiesed and put down my book and went back into the deep end to splash the kids back.
I know now that I will
always be in the pool and not in a lounge chair. As in life, I don't want to miss out on the fun just because I feel like I
should be doing something else, or because I am so focused on one thing (getting a tan) that I miss out on others (having fun and sharing unrepeatable moments with children who may not be there the next day to tickle or snuggle or splash). I so look forward to having children of my own and being a mom who is never too old or too busy or too tired to run and play and splash and LIVE. I mostly just enjoy being someone who has that attitude now, even if it's not being revealed through motherhood ... and I am so happy that I will be that kind of person in the future. I look forward to pool parties that I will attend in around 40 years or so, where I will still be doing cannonballs off diving boards and earning dirty looks from lounge chair'ers. To me, this is the only way I know how to truly LIVE, and I make no apologies.
the bigness of small lives
This will be a really short post, because my head and my heart hurt. But recently I have been reminded of how much a person's life is really just a vapor. There are some lives whose vapors pass way into nothingness, and sadly we don't even realize they were ever there. There are other lives that leave behind a sweet fragrance, a scent that floods your mind and heart with memories and truths and goodness and fullness. On Sunday night, two friends of mine left this earth so that they could finally and fully experience that which they had only known partially before: the joy and wonder of the presence of God.
Though they are gone, the ripples caused by their lives continue to spread. They loved and lived out Christianity. They believed that life was something very big and full to be lived and experienced and thrived on. They recognized our tendency to make life small or make it focused on something as inconsquential as a relationship or a financial struggle or a bad day at work ... and they refused to live that way. They took hold of the lives they were given and they ran with them ... they loved 'til it hurt, they gave 'til they had none, they stayed up late and got up early so that they could be there for people if they needed someone. They
were Christ to so many, and now they're gone. But the fruits of their lives - those shall linger and grow and become bigger than the small things that we cling to. I love you, Erik and Ann, thank you for reminding me that life is so much bigger than us, and that we shouldn't and can't settle for small lives. God longs for us to do things well and to do things on a huge scale ... when we do, our lives will live on even if we are gone.
the matter of a heart
What a strange but wonderful weekend I had ... I went to the mountains, to hang out at a place that is designed to be a "nature preserve", or something of the sort - the focus is supposed to be about teaching people how to go back to the "way we used to live."
I rode a horse bareback. I learned how not to chop off my legs with an axe. I dug holes and then filled them again. I took a bath in a stream so cold even the crayfish were shivering, while thunder rolled and lightning flashed in the night sky above me.
But mostly, I experienced moment after moment where I stood face to face with truth, in myself and in others. There is a blatant contrast that stands out to me when I reflect on this past weekend ... I met one person who - at first glance - simulataneously disgusted and confused me. I made a judgment about her and interacted with her based on that judgment. I saw another person this weekend that I had met before. I had heard stories about him, and in my mind I had created an image of the incredible person I thought he was. I interacted with him based on my ideas of him as a person.
In each of these cases, I was wrong. Krista grew up a little bit this weekend, as she was reminded again that beauty really, in its purest essence, has nothing to do with the outside and everything to do with what is inside a person. I met a woman who, though confused and perhaps a little bit lost, has perhaps the most honest spirit that I have ever encountered in another female. If it had been up to me, I probably would have spoken to this person as little as possible, because of my preconceived ideas of who she was. But, thanks to God and His ultimate wisdom and the way that He orchestrates the details of our lives, I ended up spending as much time as possible with this person. At first, I viewed my time with her as something I just had to "get through", maybe even in order to spend time with the person who I felt like I was really there to see. But somehow, as a weird series of events placed me with this woman for several hours, I found myself discovering quite possibly the strangest friendship in my life. We laughed and cried and had lots of those "me too!" moments. But mostly we were just THERE as things happened around us, and I think we both were surprised to find that we were able to share those moments so easily. In her core, this woman was beautiful and honest and true, and it was so refreshing to encounter that in someone. On the outside there were things about her that at first caused me to not want to look too long or not let her catch me staring ... but once I got to see who she was inside, I found that those things I had noticed before weren't even noticeable to me at all.
The other person that I mentioned seems to personify the phrase "things aren't always what they seem". This man, I had thought, was the major part of why I was there this past weekend. I had prayed and asked God to give me wisdom and words and opportunities in which to speak to him about God ... I felt very strongly in my heart that somehow this person
needed to hear something, and maybe God would allow me to be the one to tell it to him. I looked forward to being around this man, and feeling just an ounce of his energy and catching just a glimpse of his vision ... but, as I sat and talked to him and saw the inner self of him, I was discouraged to find that there was not much there at all to see. This man truly seems to be one who (in reference to an earlier post) puts most of his effort into making the front yard look good, while the back yard grows wild and messy and ugly. This man talks a good talk and presents an impressive front, but after he does that he seems to vanish from sight, leaving nothing to support any good ideas you might have about it.
Maybe my words sound harsh, and I don't mean them to be that way. I sincerely enjoy every person I meet ... I appreciate variety, especially in people, and I cherish lessons learned as my life connects with another's, even if only for a moment. The point is that I learned a little more this weekend about how God sees us, and how that is how He wants me to see others. It is so much easier to just look at the outside and make our decisions about people and act accordingly ... but real, authentic Christianity is rarely ever easy, and it's hardly ever about what we would do if left to ourselves. God calls us to look past the outward appearance and at the heart. I'm not even sure it's that He calls us to look
past the outward appearance - maybe He doesn't want us to look at the outside
at all.
Things are rarely what they seem, and I am so relieved. Help me God, to keep looking at the hearts of others ... and please help my own heart to be one that others would want to see and learn more about. I think about how God promised to give His people a new heart, to replace their heart of stone ... I long for that to be true in my life, that I have His heart instead of my old, ugly hard one. I want that heart to be ruling my life so strongly that people don't even have a chance to notice the outside of me.
everybody's got one
There’s a line in a Vigilantes of Love song that demands to be song loud and from the heart, but it hurts to say it aloud, and it hurts even more to realize the inescapable truth behind it:
When you find there’s nothing special about that big hole in your heart … ‘cause everybody’s got one and precious little time to talk about it.
Last night I saw a sad sight. It’s a sight I have seen before, but it still hurt to see it again. In my neighborhood there is a woman who I see outside every so often. We have never met or spoken, and only once has she noticed me and returned the wave that I usually offer. From a distance she looks pretty and young and maybe even like someone with whom I would be friends. I see her once in a while in the daytime, as she is out walking her dog and I’m out with mine. In the past month or so, I have also seen her outside in the evenings … only she’s not with her dog, she’s with a man. And each time I have seen her, it has been with a different man. And with each of those men she seems to be quite familiar, in a physical sense at least. Last night I watched with an ache in my heart as she stumbled down the sidewalk, falling clumsily against the tall dark-haired man that walked beside her. His step seemed a bit more sure, and – although I was watching from across the street and the streetlights were quite dim – I am positive I saw a twisted smile on his face and a selfish look in his eyes. From my vista, it seemed that he was looking at the woman as a hungry wolf might gaze at a lost little lamb that somehow got away from the flock. Her blonde hair looked messy and her face appeared to be a little too relaxed. It was quite obvious this woman was drunk, and it didn’t seem that the man was drunk at all. Sadly, I can think back to a few other nights when I watched from afar as the same "walk" took place. It makes my heart hurt for this woman. I feel anger toward these men. I want to grab the woman and shake her and shout at her and wake her from her intoxicated stupor. I want to tell her that she is beautiful and lovable and that she is so much better than what she is settling for.
But I didn’t move. I sat in my car and looked at her and thought of the words to that song, about everyone having a hole in their heart. And I cried as I realized that I am no different than that lovely woman I was watching. There is a hole in my heart that is more evident and sensitive at some times than it is at others. Without realizing it, I sometimes look to other people in the hopes that they can give me something to fill that hole. I look to activities and ministries and causes, and maybe I’m successful at stuffing that hole full of
things … but those things eventually settle, and there’s still a whole lot of "hole"ness there. There is still some space between emptiness and fulfillment. But I’m stubborn and hard-headed, and I still clumsily and unskillfully try to fill that hole myself.
We all have holes inside of us. You can use the catchy clichés and say they’re "God-shaped" if you want. Maybe they are. I guess if we say that, then we can say that whatever we are trying to use to fill that hole, whether it be sex, or love, or drugs, or alcohol, or causes, or careers, or money, or relationships … those things become our Gods. And if we push and pull and shove and pack them in there, they may do a really good job at filling part of that hole within us. But the truth is, I’m not sure that hole will ever totally be filled as long as we live on this earth and dwell in these bodies made of flesh. There is some part of us that will always be unfulfilled and dissatisfied, and I think that’s the way God wants us to be. If we somehow discovered the secret to fulfillment, then we wouldn’t look to Him, who is really the One who can satisfy or fulfill us anyway. It hurts my head to think about the absolute fulfillment we will one day enjoy when we stand before Him and long no more for anything.
This could be a depressing post, but if anything it should serve to motivate me (and you) to do the best we can to reach out to others and to take time to talk about the holes inside of us. As long as we are on this earth, we are all in the same boat … it’s just that some of us have found the oars and learned the joy of rowing, so that we can see more and enjoy more and feel more. There are many around us who are simply sitting in their boats with no idea of what to do. Last night I had the chance to invite someone into my boat and maybe let her rest a bit as I rowed for her, but I let that opportunity pass me by. I watched as she used her hands to try to paddle to an island where she thought she would find happiness. I have a feeling she never got to that place, and I am quite convinced that the island doesn’t exist. Tonight, and tomorrow night, and the night after that, if I get my eyes off myself long enough to see her, I have a feeling I might know where to find that young lady, and maybe next time I will be willing to slow down and help her out of her water-filled boat and let her sit with me a bit.
the need for fences
I have only lived in North Carolina for a little over a year – I still sometimes forget that the south is different from the north, and that bikini season comes early down here. I have come to very much appreciate the fact that I am not a man, for I can’t imagine the torture that I would potentially experience in seeing that much temptation paraded in front of me. I was just about to write that it would be especially difficult to be a single man and have that much flesh teasing and taunting me, but I think it might be equally difficult to be a married man and be subject to that kind of enticement. In either case, it might be very much like a person who hasn’t eaten for several days, sitting and watching a procession of t-bone steaks and (since we’re in the south) fried chicken, but being unable to get up and enjoy the food. Even to walk away from the food doesn’t solve the problem, because that image still lingers in your thoughts and in your appetite and renders you dissatisfied.
This may be a really touchy subject for me to broach, but life is sometimes touchy and I tend to (especially lately) run into the difficult stuff head-first. Or sometimes it seems I get thrown into this stuff head-first. I was working at the group home last night, and somehow I ended in a conversation about women with one of the boys. We spoke in particular about lust and attraction and what God thinks of all that. I know this guy seems to have girls on his mind a lot, but usually the tone of the conversation is light and more teasing than anything else. Last night, after things quieted down at the house and most of the guys were in bed, we ended up talking about beauty. The focus was more about physical beauty than anything else. Apparently earlier that day this young man had seen a picture of a woman in a bikini, and he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He asked me if it was wrong to feel attraction toward her, and if it was wrong to continue to think about her and what she looked like in that bikini. He asked me if God would be “mad at him” for thinking about her in that way. This was one of those paradoxical moments when I really wondered if I was there, why I was there, or if maybe I had somehow slipped into someone else’s body that was supposed to be there … and at the same time, I knew that was exactly where I was supposed to be in that moment.
I took a deep breath and tried to recover the wind that had been knocked out of me, and I said a quick prayer … and I started talking to this young man (I’ll call him J) about beauty, and how God created beauty for us to enjoy, but how we have tainted and polluted something that He intended to be pure and holy. I watched his face closely and slowed a bit when I saw the flush rise to his cheeks as I talked about Adam and Eve in the garden, and how they were completely naked. I watched his eyes as they scanned the carpeted floor as he listened to me talk about how the beauty of another person is something God longs for us to enjoy in the context of marriage, and how we can actually worship God and honor HIM in the way that we treat another person and another person’s body.
I asked him what it was about that woman that he thought was so attractive. His cheeks grew rosy again as he mumbled “her body”. I asked him if she looked like a nice person, and if he thought that she was someone that he would enjoy spending time with, even if she was wearing baggy sweatpants and a big oversized t-shirt. He laughed nervously and looked at me for the first time in 15 minutes and said he didn’t know. I asked him if she would still be beautiful if he met her in real life and found that the shape he admired was actually the shape of the bikini and not the shape of the woman. Again, the nervous laugh, and a “probably not.” We got to talking about marriage, and about his own family life. I asked him what he thought was missing in his own parents’ marriage, and if he thought his mom was beautiful. He said that he didn’t think she was now, that maybe she was once, and that he didn’t know what was missing – probably love.
I really put J on the spot and asked him to give me a definition of beauty. He hemmed and hawed and sighed in frustration and finally said he didn’t know. I grabbed my Bible and asked him if he wanted to know what God thought about beauty. We ended up in (surprise!) Proverbs 31 and we talked especially about the verses that say “charm is deceitful, and beauty is fleeting … but a woman who fears the Lord is greatly to be praised.” J asked me what that means. I talked to him about my life, and my past – I didn’t give too many details, but I shared with him how there were years and times that I completely based my view of myself on how other people saw me. I put so much work and effort into the outside of me that the inside was totally neglected, like an unkempt garden overgrown with weeds. I made the analogy of a beautiful house with a perfectly landscaped front yard … there were flowers and trees, and it was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. If I was that house, people would have driven by me and stopped their cars and stared and felt drawn to walk through the yard – or maybe they would even wish they lived there … but if they looked further, past the really good presentation, and walked into the backyard, they would see a landscaper’s nightmare, with weeds and uneven ground and swampy spots. I put so much work into the front yard that I completely ignored the needs and devastation happening in the back. Eventually those passersby would grow tired of the front yard, and they would start to meander toward the back … and when they did, they were completely disgusted by what they saw. As beautiful and enticing as it was at that point, the front yard did not hold enough attraction to them to keep them there. That beauty and appeal into which I invested so much time and energy – it was deceiving, and eventually it faded away. It fled because of time, because of the process of going beyond the surface, but mostly I think it happened because God wanted me to learn that He would rather I have balance in my life.
I was so relieved to see that J seemed to be following my story, because I wasn’t even completely sure where I was going with it. But then God took my breath away again. I guess what I really needed to do was just shut up for a minute, because as I sat and listened in amazement, J said “kinda makes you think … maybe a yard that looks so good that it’s unreal IS unreal. Maybe everything should be kept up, and one part shouldn’t get so much attention that other stuff is ignored.” I heard the buzzing of the clothes dryer, telling me that my clothes were done, so I excused myself from the room just in time to blot the tears forming in my eyes. I had rambled and ranted and somehow I had communicated a truth to this precious young man.
When I came back in the room, J was looking at the floor intently. He said, “Miss Krista, what about what’s in the house? Forget the yard, what’s in the house?” I could have jumped up and hugged him … and actually, I did. I said, “that’s IT!” I told him THAT is the question he needs to ask himself when he’s thinking about beauty, especially as he gets older and thinks about a woman that he would want to spend the rest of his life with. I was the one to blush next, as he said (mumbled) to me, “Miss Krista, your front yard and back yard and house – they’re beautiful.” At least I think that’s what he said – his mouth was buried in a pillow, and I couldn’t get an indication from his eyes because they were still focused on a single spot on the carpet.
We prayed together that night, that God would guard J’s mind. We thanked God for the beauty He created for us to enjoy, and also for the way that He gives us limits and teaches us to learn to appreciate them. I prayed for J’s future, and for his future wife, that God would protect both of them and help them to learn how to care for their inner beauty as much as (if not more than) their outer beauty. I thanked God for J and his heart and his passions and his desires, and prayed that God would preserve those until the day when He wants J to be able to fully express them in joy and worship to Him.
As I drove home and continued in prayer, I felt a sadness when I realized that I will only have one more night of official “work” with those boys. But the sadness was soon replaced with joy and appreciation at the privilege of being able to be a part of these boys’ lives, now and in the future choices that they make. There are so many decisions ahead of them, so many battles to be waged and so many victories to be experienced … it amazes and humbles me to realize that somehow, in His sovereignty, God decided to let me be a part of their journeys.
I also thought a bit more about the house/lawn analogy. Of course if you take anything to an extreme, you risk damage – sometimes unrepairable damage … I’m sure that people might put SO much work into their backyards that the front yards are an eyesore. The key is balance. Or maybe the key is a privacy fence. If I owned my house, I think I would probably put up the highest, strongest fence I could find … my lawn and house would be beautiful, but this beauty would only be known by those to whom I open the gate. I’m sure there would be many grateful men if more women would build those fences.
bright mirrors that glow
Someone just told me that I’m glowing. He is the third person today to say that. I get a good feeling when I hear that, to know that what I am feeling inside is being reflected on the outside. I remember a CS Lewis quote that I once read, "We are mirrors whose brightness, if we are bright, is derived from the Sun that shines upon us." I can’t describe or explain what God has been doing in me lately, but I am enjoying it immensely.
There is a richness to life that I know can only come from Him. As I am re-learning how to fall in love with Him, and as I loosen my grip on my carefully protected heart, I am experiencing something that is humbling and more than a little frightening, but it is SO, SO right. It’s the thing that, if I’m honest with myself, I realize I want the most … to be fully and completely known. But of course, it’s the thing that I fear. Yes, it’s wonderful when you find that freeing experience with another person, and I do still want that in my life … but that pales in comparison to the knowledge that every single fiber of my being is known and loved by the One who summons the sun to rise with just a word.
I have known very few people who I feel really "get" or understand me – when I find someone like that, I know I have found a treasure because I’m a complex individual. I have been told that I’m an enigma … and I feel that way – a lot. I’m hard to understand and explain, usually I can’t even understand or explain myself. So when I happen across another person whose soul speaks the same language as mine, another part of me comes alive. I strongly believe that there is some part of me that is in a way weary of limitation … I get tired of holding parts of me back so that others can understand me or find a relationship with me a bit more
manageable. I really believe there is some part of me that NEEDS to be nourished … it’s the part of me that has the power to develop the true potential of who I can be – who I was created to be. It’s an amazing thing to have a relationship (of whatever form) with another person in which that part of you is really being acknowledged and fed … but the truth that I have been overwhelmed with lately is that – as wonderful as it is to feel that type of connection with another human – there is a God who created that complexity and uniqueness within EACH of us. He is the one that makes that type of connection even possible.
I think a real temptation in life, especially in love, is to seek something that is in truth just a representation of a more abstract reality. For example, we "fall in love" and feel alive and feel energized and feel as if our lives are fuller than ever before … and we associate these feelings and experiences with that person, with the object of our love. What we should be doing is associating those feelings and experiences with the object itself. As Christians, we should realize that the warmth and energy that we are feeling have to do not so much with another person, as with Love itself. God is Love. He is also the Creator of Love, but He IS Love. That means that those butterflies and fireworks and even the solid rewards like growth and improvement – these things are just pale little shadows of what we are meant to experience. I’m not saying it’s wrong to love another person (I’ll hold off on what I feel about being "in love") … I
am saying it’s wrong to think that, even if the person we love is a wonderful, godly, authentic follower of Christ, the connection we have with them means that NOW our lives have begun, and NOW we know what love is. I think we settle far too easily for things.
In all honesty, it’s frightening to think about the intensity and power of what we
can have if we really plunge ourselves into the depths of God’s love. We can’t present our best versions of ourselves or really hope that He doesn’t show up before we have a chance to clean our house or get our makeup on … He sees inside of us. He knows every trace of evil or negative thoughts that linger in our brain … he knows the resent and fear that lie (maybe dormant) in our hearts. When we’re really and truly wrapped up in love with God, it’s messy and scary and painful and at times overwhelming. But it’s good, and I refuse to settle for anything less. That glow that it seems I have – maybe it’s a flush from the heat of this battle for God’s highest, maybe it’s a blush from realizing how undeserving I am of this kind of love … whatever the case, it’s good and I’m not letting go of it.
shut up and deal with it
Recently I got an email from a friend of mine that just sort of left me there staring at the computer screen in astonishment. He’s a nice friend, one of those probably “forever friends” with who, even if I don’t talk to him for months and months, I still feel that bond. We have never actually even met in person, and there’s a very good chance we never will, but there is a deep connection there. He is the friend of
this post, who said this nice thing about ME: “With such a blend of a serious conscientiousness of character and soul with a carbonated lighthearted frivolity, what young man, disenchanted with the status quo, could resist you?"
Anyway, he is going through some incredible things in his life right now. He and I seem to have a knack for going through big things at the same times … different “big things,” but still – big things. I’m not sure I should even try to interpret or paraphrase his wisdom, so I may just end up doing a whole lot of quoting. I am going to take some editorial liberties and cut out some names and details that you don’t need to know about, but I want to preserve his points.
Keep doing what you’re doing, no matter how logical and reasonable and biblical it sounds and no matter how it fails or succeeds … people like us need to be taught a lesson. We can't figure God out. We have to go by faith and waiting. Our beliefs about Jesus have a rational and historical basis, but He treats every believer different - and what He wants most from us is character development and faith development (even it if it comes at the expense of our understanding rationality.)
What do I mean at the expense of rationality? I mean, God gave you and I intelligence and a literary bent. We love to interpret and analyze and manipulate metaphor. He won’t be handled, though. And we will do well to just shut up and deal with it.
… you know what? I have tried to force God's hand before, and that's why I'm where I am right now. Because I never learn that sometimes He calls me to "stick it out". I wonder if I had "stuck it out", if things would be different. I wonder if He would have even chosen her for me, or if I would have chosen her for myself. But the truth is, I love her more every day and also am more irritated and confounded by her every day. Truth is, I don’t really have absolute control of my life and - even if I did, whatever steps I would rationally take would make it as imperfect as if I had just left it alone and waited for God.
What am I trying to say? There is no summary for it. I don’t know and am in the dark as much as ever! But I do know that He will get me from point A to point B. I don’t know how or if I will be happy or depressed about the means. But as little consolation as that offers for any given problem, conundrum or situation, that’s all I know anymore.
Am I at peace with this? No. I want orderliness and rationality. I want to predict God's steps and either manipulate them or get in line with them. It has never worked for me before, not as far as circumstances go. But honestly, I am going to try to get in line with interpreting AFTER THE FACT and not before. My philosophy of life now is to try my best at everything that is in front of me no matter if 99% of the things fail or are imperfect. IN that I think God is happy; that I push in faith regardless of what I see happen. How irrational this seems to me!
Maybe you don’t agree with what he said … but if you knew what this incredible man is going through, you would recognize the power behind his words and the ponderings of his heart. There is beauty in those words. I’m not even sure I totally agree with them, but I applaud his honesty and his sincerity and I hope he’s not upset with me for posting his email on my blog. He is right though – I catch myself very often trying to force God’s hand or “figure Him out”, and I really sometimes do need to just quiet down and watch as God reveals His plan. Anyway, those words seemed way too good not to share … they deserve to be read by others who can hopefully relate. And again, I hope he doesn’t mind that I posted his email on my blog. :)
the quest for the elusive VW
I got into a conversation the other day with a friend of mine about Proverbs 31. It’s a chapter of the Bible that seems to keep coming up quite a bit with me lately. In this conversation, my friend told me that she used to hate to hear sermons or read anything that cited those verses, because she always ended up feeling guilty and insufficient. She said it seemed like one big list of “to do” things, most of which she failed to do. I didn’t have words to say at the time, and I’m still not sure I do, but that conversation got me thinking quite a bit about the verses and the implications …
This morning in church, the message had nothing at all to do with Proverbs 31 or virtuous wives, but as I looked around the congregation I found my mind drifting to thoughts of those verses. Surrounded by families of various ages and sizes, I found myself in the minority as a single person. There was a beautiful, freckle-faced little girl sitting in front of me, and she turned around every so often and gave me a gap-toothed smile. I watched with warm feelings as she threw her arms around her mother’s neck and snuggled against her shoulder, smiling that same precious smile and looking at her mother adoringly. My mind was filled with thoughts of what a child should see when she looks at her mother, and I wondered about who this little girl looks up to.
Something that has been dominating my thoughts lately has been the idea that – as Christians – we are commanded to be excellent at EVERYTHING. This is not to say that we need to have the perfect body or wear the latest fashions or drive the most expensive cars … but it does demand that we do the absolutely best job we can at taking care of what we DO have. It means that we make choices to honor God with our talents, our time, our resources, our minds, and our bodies (to name a few things). This is the example that we should be setting for our children, whether we are parents or mentors or leaders in whatever capacity.
Proverbs 31 provides a list of qualities that King Lemuel’s mother apparently thought were virtuous. I admit, until this afternoon, I’m not sure that I ever really read the first 9 verses of that chapter, or thought about the fact that this chapter is basically a mother’s speech to her son. It’s easy to understand the mindset of the friend I mentioned earlier – this list of seemingly unattainable virtue seems a bit intimidating. But to me, these verses still don’t even scratch the surface of what we (as women) should be doing and choosing and living. Today as I considered the tone of these verses, I realized that they are not just about wives, but about women in general.
The woman described in Proverbs 31 does not wait for life to come to her – she is purposeful and diligent about going for the life that God has promised her. She arises early in the morning because she realizes that every day is a part of her journey, and she doesn’t want to miss what God has in store for her. I think even if this nameless woman did not have a husband to praise her, she would still make her life full. The choices that she makes wouldn’t change, regardless of whether she was single or married. She chooses to be purposeful about life, and she chooses contentment with her situation.
King Lemuel’s mother doesn’t describe at all the husband of this virtuous woman. We don’t know if he is everything that this woman would like him to be, but I get the feeling that she is so secure in herself that she realizes that she has a role of her own, and she is responsible for playing it. I think a huge mistake that people often make, ESPECIALLY in marriage, is that they make someone else responsible for their happiness. This is wrong. In any relationship, in any life, we are each responsible for ourselves: for our emotional well-being, for spiritual development, and for physical wellness. Why do so many people get married and then think they’re safe and no longer need to put any effort into being the best person that they can be??
I have long held to the idea that too many people expect another person to “complete” them. I am not completely sure how this works in marriage – I guess maybe it’s not about completing another person as much as it is about completing the other part of the marriage relationship. In order to do that though, each half of that whole needs to be complete on their own. The virtuous woman looks for what she can do with her circumstances – she’s competent on her own, she’s not waiting for someone else to do what she knows she is capable of.
Like I said, I never really thought so much about the fact that this description was given by a man’s mother, but I think it’s interesting … I wonder if this kind of thing would translate to today, in a mother telling her son to go for the really nice woman of good character instead of the really cute little kitten that he has his eye on. In verse 3, Lemuel’s mother actually warns him against the kind of women that destroy kings … kinda gives the feeling that maybe she’s telling him to stay away from the “loose” women of the day. She’s looking out for his best interests, I think, and realizes that if Lemuel can find a woman who fears the Lord more than anything else, he will have a gem that will be a blessing to him and to his children.
This is the kind of woman that I want to be, whether I’m married or single (and since I’m single right now, that’s what I’m working towards) … this woman does only good for her husband as long as she lives (verses 11 and 12). Ok, so I don’t have a husband right now, but the idea here is that to do my best in loving others, I am doing what’s best for myself. I am not weakened by serving or loving others, I’m made stronger. People can trust me because I am at peace with myself and with God … I am not looking for another person to answer any questions for me, because I know that Christ is the answer to any question I have. I know this will be a key thing for me someday if/when I am married … because, regardless of what someone else is doing or giving or being, I am self-sufficient in Christ.
Honestly? I love the thought of someday getting married, and getting up while it’s still dark and preparing food and a welcoming environment for my family. I really like the idea of using my strength to tackle the tasks at hand. The thought of someone counting on me through the hard times, and the beautiful strength shown in reaching out (through body, mind, or spirit) to the needy … these things bring me such an incredible feeling of joy and hope. I long to fill a home with peace and security and wisdom. When I read this chapter, I love to think about me living out this woman’s life. The thing I need to remember though, is that I can live it out even when I’m single.
To get back to the start of my post … the woman of Proverbs 31 is strong and resilient and dynamic and refreshing. Where are these women in our churches today? Why do so many get married and decide that they need to stop pursuing excellence in their mind, soul, and body? This woman in Proverbs 31 is a picture of beauty and strength and grace and tenacity. This is the type of woman that little girls should be looking to for a role model … it seems like we’ve missed it somewhere.
It’s getting late and I’m rambling now. I’m not sure I even conveyed what is on my mind. I just feel so strongly that in general we Christians live very small, ho-hum lives, when God shows us again and again that He wants us to pursue excellence in every way.
the tune of my prayers
I woke up at 2:30 this morning with a song in my head. It's a song that was a favorite of mine when I was in college, and I probably haven't heard it since. I crawled from my bed to the floor beside it, and amazingly those lyrics from eight or nine years ago poured from my heart as I kneeled and savored the sweetness of the silent world around me. After spending some time with my God, I came to my computer and found the song online. Tears flowed freely as I listened and felt a powerful stirring inside of me. I had every intention of going back to bed, but I felt a powerful draw to the Word and also to more of that sweet communion to which I awoke. So, for the next four hours I prayed and sang and cried and smiled and praised and lamented and thanked and questioned ... and at the end of it I crawled into bed and slept the sweetest sleep I have had in a while.
Here are the words of that song -- they are true and sweet and real ... but this morning I was reminded that I already AM free. I am free to love, give, feel, hurt, laugh, cry, hug, reach out, run, push ahead, grow, teach, share, and shine this light that He has put inside of me. We make our lives so big, but in reality they are so small. And yet within each of us is the capability to make our puny little existences beautiful. In light of eternity, my life is a short little gasp of air in the midst of a powerful windstorm. And yet, this quick breath, this vapor of time and being - this is what we have to work with. This is what God entrusts us with.
It's SO easy to get wrapped up in what is going on in our lives, and to miss the bigger picture of what will come of our lives in the end. Yesterday, today, tomorrow - these are tiny brushstrokes in a HUGE picture that God has painted and is still painting. But still, these moments are what we have possession of, as much as we can possess them. What a waste to spend our time lamenting over ultimately insignificant losses or rejoicing over temporary gains. I have a feeling God longs for us to fully live each moment of our lives, to feel the richness of the vivid colors, and to savor the sweet fragrance of His grace and mercy flowing through us. He gives us victory and strength and power, not so that we can use it to build up ourselves, but so that we can engage in battles and wars that maybe have nothing at all to do with US. We are His ambassadors - that means we represent Him here on earth. It does me well to remember that, for I have a feeling that God would be living my life a little different than I sometimes do.
Here's the song. The freedom that I feel today pales in comparison to what I will one day enjoy, but still - tt's what my heart is praying today:
The mountains are steep
And the valleys low
Already I'm weary
But I have so far to go
Oh, and sorrow holds my hand
And suffering sings me songs
But when I close my eyes
I know to whom I belong
Who makes me strong
I will be free
I will be free to run the mountains
I will be free
Free to drink from the living fountain
Oh, I'll never turn back
'Cause He waits for me
Oh, I will be free
A wise man, a rich man
In pauper's clothes
A shepherd to lead us
Through the land of woes
Though many battles I have lost
So many rivers yet to cross
But when my eyes behold the Son
Who bore my loss, who paid the cost
I will be free
I will be free to run the mountains
I will be free
Free to drink from the living fountain
Oh, I'll never turn back
'Cause He waits for me
Oh, I will be free
Oh, and I'll dance on silver moonlight
And I'll walk through velvet fields
Oh, and I'll run into the arms
The arms that set me free
I will be free
I will be free to run the mountains
I will be free
Free to drink from the living fountain
Oh, I'll never turn back
'Cause He waits....
I'll never turn back
Don't you ever turn back
Because someday, someday we're gonna see
We will be free
There is something so precious, almost sacred, about hearing another person ask for help. There is something so incredibly humbling about being the one being asked for help. Today I took a long lunch and went and spent a couple hours at the outreach center in town – it’s a place that, until this past Monday, I had no idea existed. When I moved to this town just over seven months ago, quite possibly the hardest thing for me to leave in Salisbury was the mission where I used to spend 2-3 days of my week. It was in that musty, crowded building that I caught a glimpse of what it really means to be a Christian.
I still remember the first interview I did there, and how those 20 minutes revealed corners and crevices of my heart that I wasn't even aware were there. As I sat across from a young hispanic woman and her three small children and tried clumsily to have a conversation in order to determine her needs, I realized that I had nothing to offer her. As Yesmina looked at me, she probably thought that I could help her: me, a white woman just a year younger than her, with clean hands and nice clothes. I had a college degree and had written term papers on how to best serve other cultures within our country; I had years and years of Sunday school under my belt - I could tell her children stories about David and Goliath, and how Jonah got swallowed by a whale; I had traveled to other states to serve meals and build homes for people just like Yesmina and her children ... and yet, there I sat, clinging desperately to my pen and clipboard, with the full knowledge that all of my education and training and serving and reading had done nothing to prepare me for the moment in which I found myself. Here was a woman sitting in front of me, basically revealing her life story to me in a plea for help.
I fumbled my way through a conversation that was half-Spanish, half-English and discovered that Yesmina's husband had recently lost his job as a factory worker. Soon after he lost his job, Yesmina and her children lost him. Jose had left her alone with no money and no idea of where to go for help. She had found out about the mission through a woman on the street, and she came to us asking for help with her rent, power bill, water bill, groceries, clothing, and school supplies for her children. As a freshly-trained interviewer, the policies were still fresh in my mind, and I knew we would probably only be able to help with one of the items on the lengthy list she presented. I started to open my mouth to tell her this, but as I looked at little Jose and his almond-shaped eyes shining back at me, I mustered up a smile and said I would be right back.
I stepped out of that room, closed the door behind me, fell against the wall and finally exhaled. I breathed out all the sadness and helplessness that I had been bursting with in that small, cramped room. I cried for Yesmina and for the reality that those children would probably never again see their father. I cried at the injustice of life. I cried out to God in a search for answers, wondering why I was sitting on one side of the table instead of the other. Why wasn't Yesmina the one wearing a nice dress instead of dirty cutoff jeans and flip-flops? Why wasn't I the one burdened with diaper bags and a stroller and three tired children? I took a deep breath and walked down the hallway to go talk to the program coordinator. She saw my face and she ran to me and hugged me, and reminded me that she had warned me that my heart would be tugged and pulled and stretched in unimaginable ways. I had heard her words, but nothing could have prepared me for the reality.
I reviewed Yesmina's file with her, and somehow we were able to figure out a way to meet almost all of her needs. I was also able to refer her to a housing program run by the mission, in which single mothers can come live in apartments with their children while receiving training and assistance from the mission. I went back into the room, this time with a real smile on my face. Two of the three children were crying and Yesmina's eyes looked weary and defeated. As I sat down and tried to explain to Yesmina that we would be able to help her, her pretty blue eyes desperately searched mine. She leaned forward, listening intently and grasping for a word she recognized, finally latching onto the word "ayuda" and beginning to smile. I held out the various vouchers and payment slips to her, and her smile grew as she read the Spanish words written alongside the English. She jumped up from her chair and squeezed me with her strong, tan arms. I hugged her back, feeling undeserving of her appreciation but so glad I was somehow able to help her.
As I helped Yesmina and the children out of the mission that day, I realized that I
am unworthy and - on my own - I
do have nothing to offer. But the wonderful thing, the truth that simultaneously takes my breath away and knocks me to me knees, is that God does things
through me. And God does things through people like Yesmina. There is no "us" and "them", no "this side of the table" and "that side of the table". We are vessels, containers filled with something ... that day, Yesmina was filled with grace and humility and Christ. I realized as I watched that little family walk down the street, that I had just spent 20 minutes with Christ in a person. And because of what I was filled with that day (and what I hope I'm filled with everyday) - love, and mercy, and compassion - God was able to use me to love her. There is nothing that I possibly could have done to prepare for that moment. I just needed to be there, so that God could work.
I am so looking forward to the privilege of being involved with this outreach center here in town. I have a feeling there will be lots of opportunities to be there and watch as God somehow, amazingly, does something through an unprepared person such as myself.
when the sun goes down
This is beautiful:
When the sun goes below the horizon he is not set; the heavens glow for a full hour after his departure. And when a great and good man sets, the sky of this world is luminous long after he is out of sight. Such a man cannot die out of this world. When he goes he leaves behind him much of himself. Being dead, he speaks.
-- Lyman Beecher (I think … I know it’s someone Beecher)
Last night as I sat with four tired young men and watched the sky softly fade from blue to a pinkish purple to a drab gray, I thought about life. More specifically, I thought about my life. There have been incredible changes in the past year or two. If anyone had asked me several years ago, as I sat on the porch of a huge rambling house in upstate NY, where I would be on May 31, 2006, I never would have guessed that I would be hanging out with a group of ragamuffin boys at a home in North Carolina. There is no way I would have ventured to say that I would be spending a couple nights a week scratching up my legs playing capture the flag in the woods, or thrown into awkward conversations about girls and kissing and whether or not girls like guys with facial hair.
The past year and a half has found me in unchartered territory. I emerge from this journey with scars and scrapes and many lessons learned. In the past 16 months: I moved 12 hours away from everyone and everything familiar to me; I learned to find joy in little things like children falling asleep in my lap while watching a movie, and I learned the pain of watching a little person hurt and not being able to do anything to stop the crying; I experienced the privilege of being able to learn of a person’s need for something as simple as diapers for her newborn baby, and having the means with which to meet it; I grew strong from shouldering the weight of a struggling ministry as it tumbled and staggered beneath the crashing waves of hypocrisy and pride; I found humility and refreshment in the process of being broken apart so that God could shape me into a newer and better vessel for His use; I discovered the incredible richness of entering into conversations with strangers and establishing bonds and ties that will live forever in my heart; I felt my heart come alive again as I stood alone on a desolate beach and shared with my Creator the magic of a sun rising over the ocean; I allowed myself to be wooed and romanced as I wandered night after night underneath a starlit sky and listened to the cicadas’ beautiful rhythmic refrains; I crossed paths with a kindred soul and found the journey even more beautiful as I walked alongside him, sharing the beauty and awe and glory of the miracle of this life; I was lulled to sleep by the sound of a steady river and the comfort of strong arms and a heart beating steadily in time with my own; I was struck with wonder again at the magic and excitement of a first kiss, a second kiss, and a third kiss … ; I moved again, this time 3 hours away from a few familiar friends; I learned to find joy in little things like pillow fights and awkward hugs from teenage boys; I witnessed the radiance of true love as I watched a frail man faithfully sit beside his beautifully aging wife with a sparkle in his eyes and a selflessness that caused me to feel shame; I experienced anew what it means to share others’ pain, as God revealed others’ deep wounds to me and somehow used me to bring some healing; I felt the joyful exhaustion that comes from working from sunrise to midnight, energized in the knowledge that I was finally doing something that was touching the futures of other people; I taught myself how to be strong again after having learned the secret of being weak; I found family in complete strangers; I learned to embrace painful moments with a joyful heart; I discovered again how beautiful and precious I am to the One that knows me better than any other; I moved again into a neighborhood that felt like home the first time I entered it; I clambered over cultural barriers to build clumsy relationships with precious souls who bring a smile to my heart; I finally learned what it is to really love another person and expect nothing in return, and the searing pain and indescribable joy that come with that process; I realized that a day is never long enough for me to do all that is in my heart to do, and that I never want it to be … I could keep going and going … but this past 16 months has been incredible.
As I approach the celebration of another year of my life, I do so with an expectant heart. I’m not sure how this coming year will possibly top this past year, but I am so excited to see what lies ahead. The quote at the beginning of this post is so beautiful to me. Last night as I watched the sky grow dark, I know that the sun had already “set” … but those colors lingered as a reminder of all that the day held. This is what I long for my life to be – I long for the colors of my life to linger in the minds of other people. As I leave behind one day or one place or one person, I want some part of me to remain there, living on in some way … and I want that piece of me that stays to be full of beauty, love, wonder, awe, and God.
I recently read a quote by Victor Hugo … in case you don’t recognize the name, he’s the author of Les Miserables – INCREDIBLE book (or really, books). It’s a good ending, I think. At the time that Hugo spoke these words, he was over 80 years old:
I feel in myself the future life. I am like a forest which has been more than once cut down. The new shoots are livelier than ever. I am rising toward the sky. The sunshine is on my head. The earth gives me its generous sap, but Heaven lights me with its unknown worlds.
You say the soul is nothing but the resultant of the bodily powers. Why, then, is my soul more luminous when my bodily powers begin to fail? Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets, and the roses as at twenty years. The nearer I approach the end the plainer I hear around me the immortal symphonies of the worlds which invite me. It is marvelous, yet simple.
