New Mercies For Today, Hope For Tomorrow

Well now, it seems to be a fertile week for processing... er, I mean, preparing my field.  This is GREAT news for me, because some stuff is getting worked out inside me and I think summer is right around the corner for me.  On the other hand, it's not great news for those around me because my over-worked, teeny brain, is starting to smell like burned rubber.

More good news for me:  I tested my new pastor today. He's a champ, and completely, willingly, took me on when I called in tears. Some guy huh?!  Whew! As is becoming somewhat the usual thing on this blog, I'm not going to share the nitty gritty details for the whole world to sift through, but the guy is wise.  And gracious.  And patient.  And right.

In a nutshell, the narrative I'm processing this week has to do with fear.  I've actually been a bit panicky for a couple of weeks, off and on, over a few different topics.  Today all of the topics collided in a masterful display of fireworks, crashing gongs and tears.  Okay the tears were actual, the fireworks and gongs were internal.  Thank God that I got stood up today for a color during this time, so I had time to leave work to fall apart privately.

I am afraid that God is going to MAKE me do something I cannot, do not want to, will not allow, myself to do.  On the other hand, I am afraid that God will not allow "summer" in my life until I "obey".  Furthermore, this week happens to be the week that the "super-Christians", who apparently have a red phone direct to God (one that, mind you, I was not issued) are assisting Him with getting me saved again.  (Or something like that- my words and assessment of their actions, not theirs)  Please understand as you read this, that I am doing my level best to not sound mean, sarcastic, angry, disrespectful...  I'm feeling a little tender and mashed today and I'm doing my best.  Anywho... the good pastor assured me that no one is qualified to speak for God about specific circumstances in my personal life and make conjectures as to what He has planned specifically for me in my near future.  That's cool, because I assured the sweet pastor that I spend years OUT of church because of this very thing and am still feeling a bit flighty as to the whole situation.  I don't want a God that is that small.  I want the BIG version I was promised in Sunday School a million years ago.

Even though I didn't write at all Thursday, the theme washing through my head was "the mercies of the Lord are new every morning".  It was a cute little phrase that lingered, brought to mind a couple of songs from forever ago, and made me smile.  Thursday was a great day, for the most part.  I was able to keep the fear thoughts at bay all day.  Today... I woke up- nope, I really didn't sleep, so really I just got up, feeling absolutely trashed in every way. Eventually, at the very end of the longest day ever recorded, I was compelled to research this"new mercy" thing... I finally found it in Lamentations of all places.  (YES!! This is not a bumper sticker to me, so I am fully embracing it!)

Lamentations 3:19-25:

I remember my affliction and my wandering,

the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,

and my soul is downcast within me.

Yet this I call to mind

and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

 I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;

therefore I will wait for him.”

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,

to the one who seeks him;

Okie Doke.  That's good enough for me tonight.  My fears have been put to rest.  I will wait, and see.  He will be good to me, because I have hope in Him and am seeking His plan- not a uber-super-exhuberant Christian's plan for me.  And also, you saw it right?  It says it right there:  because of His great love for me I won't be consumed.  That's cool.  I'm tired.  Goodnight.

Waiting For Rain

I'm being pursued!!!  He called me, out of the blue, a few weeks ago, on a "down" day none-the-less.  The first time I saw him was two summers ago, at a day camp for the kids.  He recognized me from years ago- before I was married.  We caught up briefly,  he invited me to chat "anytime".   I ran into him again at a sandwich shop a few months later.  Again, an invitation to call him, anytime.  Over the next year I heard from friends that know him that he'd been asking about me, again encouraging them to have me call.  So, I finally did.  We met for a couple of hours.  I was a mess that day, but left feeling encouraged and exhausted.  The invitation to call anytime was again extended.   I've seen him often over the course of the last six or seven months.  He's a busy guy.  I assumed the "anytime" invitation is just something people in his position say, possibly even with sincerity, but really don't have time to follow through with.  Besides, I don't NEED anyone.


So, now this call a few weeks ago...  He was direct- "Collene, if you're not going to take me seriously and set up a time to see me, I'm coming to you.  When can you cut my hair?"  I laughed him off.  I know he has a hair girl already.  I told him, alright, I'll come in again- after Christmas?  I know he's busy.  Nope.  He wants to see me, now.  We set it up for the next day.  The conversation, in my itty bitty salon, was deep, loving, encouraging.  I am amazed and the depth of grace and love I feel coming from this guy.  It, quite honestly, confuses me. 


I spent the next few days re-reading my blog, backwards.  It's funny to me that one day's thoughts seem to prepare me for the next day.  The common threads start to emerge.  That's when it hit me:  God has been pursuing be through this man.  For the first time in my life, even being born into and growing up in the church, I have a pastor!  A shepherd, in the true sense of the word.  I didn't see him again for nearly two weeks.  When I did, he came to me for a huge, emotional even, hug.  He looked me in the eye and said directly:  "Collene, I loved our time the other day.  I feel God has given me a special heart for you for a couple of years.  You are beautiful inside and out... precious.  I love you.  It is my mission to tell you what I see in you every time I see you until you believe it.  If I have such a heart for you, imagine God's love for you."  He went on, but I honestly can't remember everything he said- it was just too much to absorb.


So reader, this is not easy stuff for me to hear.  Why?  I have no idea.  It goes against the narratives I've nursed for decades I guess.  I suppose I'm okay with the pastor's mission, but quite honestly, my instinct is to run.  I hope I don't, because it's exactly what I want...


For Christmas I went to Mom and Dad's.  Since Thursday afternoon, I logged 2,444.4 miles on my brand new tires.  There is nothing like the hum of my tires on a road, the flash of changing scenery, chasing the sun from rise to set, iPod on shuffle, and the crossing of state lines.  My mind moves fast, so it makes sense to me that sitting still has never worked for me when it comes to processing thoughts.  Road trips, however, work wonders on my mind and heart.  This Christmas break is just what I needed...


On this particular trip I solved the world's problems, then went to work on my own.  My mind again hovering on the familiar two topics:  Pursuit and Perseverance.  While in Arizona, I was reminded of a quote "Two farmers need rain.  Both pray for it, but only one prepares his field for the rain.  Which one has more faith?"


I spent three remarkably peaceful days with the family, got some much craved brother time, hugged on a niece, saw again the breathtaking beauty of the Grand Canyon, and headed home with three VERY happy kids...


Then a friend called me somewhere around Salt Lake City on my drive home.  She said she had been thinking of me and needed to read me this from James 1 (how she knew perseverance was the theme of the trip, I don't know) :

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds,  because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him.  But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.  That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord;  he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.


...This morning I woke up, in my own bed finally, after restless dreams. Worry, fear, stress- the theme of the night.  My mind immediately went to the dysfunctional secret place in my heart- that I've only shared with one other.  The place that is comfortable only because it's familiar, but has nothing of life or hope for me.  In the shower I heard in my head: "As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly." Prov 26:11  The day was dark, gloomy, cloudy.  Will I learn?  Will I change?  Will I get this far to forget what God is teaching me?  Will I have to repeat the pain?


I refuse to.  I will not settle in.  I will finish, with patience/perseverance, the race that is set before me- looking to Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith....


With all this driving and thinking and solving, I know what I want.  I know what I'm praying for.  Now, it's time to finish preparing my field for the rain.

That Four Letter Word

Perseverance was the roaming word of the day in my mind.  Earlier in the week I tried to sit down and start the week's challenge.  Once again I REALLY didn't like what the guy wanted me to do.  I checked the box of "doing something" and chose a different set of verses to use for the exercise.  But... over the last four days I have been haunted by what I was supposed to do:

Using 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, spend some time slowly reading (multiple times, mind you) each phrase.  Write down words or phrases that stand out to you.  Repeat them, pray about them, think about other verses that come to mind while you're reading them.... blah, blah, blah.

Yep, that's me rolling my eyes, squirming, being extremely evasive.  You know, I've given this stuff more than a month.  I'm good.  I've learned a lot about myself.  I'm fairly happy, well-adjusted.  I can coast this week.  In fact, Christmas is right around the corner, I'm busy, have a lot on my mind, I'll get back on task next week...  Besides, it's not like I did NOTHING this week, I just used a different verse.

So, "perseverance" is again, the word I'm fighting tonight.  "Remember?  Just this week, I told you I am trustworthy Collene",  I hear in my head.  "But God, it's another bumper sticker/poster phrase.  Worse- it's the WEDDING one.  I cannot do this...."  "Persevere Collene".

So, I obeyed.

Here it is, in case you're the only person on the planet that doesn't know it:  

"Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails..."

My stomach is in knots.  I'm sad and mad and... REALLY mad.  I probably won't be having another wedding, ever, but if I do, this will not be what is read.  Mark my words. 

Now here's where this blog gets a little dicey for me.  I wrestle with the fact that I have no idea who actually reads this, if anyone.  I also have no idea how my processing these things impacts the reader.  I have no desire to hurt or disrespect anyone.  I do, however, feel like it's necessary to be genuine- otherwise what's the point?  My marriage- in fact none of my romantic relationships, resembled this definition of love.  In addition, the relationships with some extended family members and church friends, failed big in the same way.   I recognize that people aren't perfect.  In fact, I've done my best as a wife, in-law, mother, daughter, sister, friend, to resemble those love qualities to the best of my ability- and have still fallen way short at times.  Whatever, some of that's over.  My disillusions, however, are holding steady.

Okay, tonight I did what I was supposed to. While I was thinking about the phrases that stuck out to me and "what's the point", I remembered a conversation I had with my good friend (the one that spanked me good the other day, actually) just this September.  She said:  "Collene, if a good looking, respectful, incredible guy did come along and try to love you, you would find a way to reject, sabotage, push him away."  I looked at her like she was crazy.  Why would I do that?  Nonsense.  She persisted "you are unwilling to accept it from anyone as it is, including from God- and His love is perfect."  THEN, ladies and gentlemen, she gave me recent examples!  Well now, I'm not sure why I keep her around anymore... except that I love mirrors.  I love directness.  Honesty.  And, because she really does "get" me, and I don't want to be this way anymore.  She was really loving me that morning.

At the end of the exercise the guy had us go back through and, because "God is Love", put the word "God" in the place of "Love"...  God is patient, God is kind.  He does not envy, He does not boast. God is not proud, God is not rude, God is not self-seeking, God is not easily angered, God keeps no record of wrongs, God does not delight in evil, but rejoices with truth. God always protects, trusts, hopes, perseveres, God never fails."

This is going to take some practice, but tonight I know I need to start accepting His perfect, patient, protecting, pursuing, honest, enduring, L-O-V-E.  Then, maybe- just maybe- if eventually, Prince Charming shows up, I might just be ready to let him l-o-v-e me too...

Joy For The Moment

Having made it through the waterfall and near drowning of last week,  I have begun Week 5 of my little journey of challenges.  I'll be honest here:  I'm feeling pretty good these days, floating in peaceful waters!  I find myself unsure of how to function this way.  Yes.  That is dysfunctional! 

I had so many days in a row of actual lightheartedness, I began to instinctively throw up walls of protection again. I didn't see it myself.  Thank God for a good friend, again.  She gently- or was it boldly, directly, firmly gave me the verbal spanking I needed.  She's right:  I'm used to living in the future-  always prepping for disaster, forgetting to be thankful for right now, not able to trust the joy or excitement I feel, even about silly stuff, constantly waiting for the bottom to fall out.  Why?  I had recent examples of why this "prepping" makes sense, but I had no idea when or why I started living this way.  I didn't really have the energy to care at the time, but I figured that this would be the process of the week.

The morning started out with the word TRUST once again making the rounds of my thoughts.  The phrases "afflicted in every way, but not crushed", "perplexed, but not driven to despair", "persecuted, but not abandoned", "struck down, but not destroyed" were also making the rounds...

This brought me to this evening. I was minding my own business- making deposits in different accounts, doing (yet again) tire maintenance, paying a bill or two, returning calls, when it hit me:  It has been 19 years this Christmas, since I sustained my first major internal injury. This thought was so loud in my head, I actually said "God WHY?" out loud in my car. 

The "why" I never investigated at the time.  In fact, I spent the next five years pretending the incident never even happened.  It seemed so much less complicated that way.  When finally, I was forced to confront the situation, I deflected.  There were other people who needed support and I was the strong one.

Over the years I have not been afraid of the facts of that night.  I am never specific, but I don't have to be. I told my story a time or two, when I felt like it would benefit someone. Then there were the times I told my story to the ones I trusted most.  I was hoping to be known, understood, fully accepted by them.  Instead, I was accused,  shot at, struck down, rejected, unprotected. With that kind of price tag, it felt it was much easier to shove the hurt a little deeper, pull up my boot straps and keep marching...
 
In many ways I feel like the woman I became, does not know, never met, that 15 year old girl.  I can recite her history, but I generally do not allow myself to feel her insecurity, fear, anger, or pain. Instinctively I have trained myself to anticipate, distrust, doubt, fear, push, before I ever feel that unprotected again.

The cool thing about tonight, is that I don't hurt as I'm writing this.  I also don't feel numb.  I feel peace.  I know that I can trust that this will be healed from the inside out.  The "why" doesn't really matter.  Those that I trusted, who took the shots at me, don't matter much anymore- have lost their power over me. I will one day, very soon, be functioning completely in the here and now with joy for the moment.  I will not be crushed.  I will not despair.  I will not be forsaken.  I will not be destroyed.

The Waterfall

Tonight I am sitting in my quiet house reflecting on the emotions of the last week and a half.  I am listening to the winds of change outside my window as they bring in, presumably, the first real winter storm of 2011-2012.  I should probably admit that I had a bit of a "spring snow" of my own last week.  For some reason I clung a bit to the familiar winter I was starting to come out of.  I actually ran around the garden of my heart and pulled and kicked each little delicate flower of hope that had started blooming....  I'm not sure what to do about that, so I'll tell you what else is on my mind:

Waterfalls have been crossing my mind off and on over the last several days.  There are no substantial ones close enough to town for me to spend the afternoon watching, so I'm going back in my memory a few weeks- to our visit to the falls in Yellowstone.

Today I re-read my Steadfast Pursuit blog.  I needed to be reminded that along with this powerful shaping will come the smoothing.  I imagined that the fallen cottonwood tree fell in up-river near the falls in Yellowstone.  (Although it's highly unlikely that a whole cottonwood tree would have washed all the way to Billings without getting caught on a sand bar or bridge, just go with me on this...)  I was feeling pretty good, floating along on the river, when last week, during Blessings Week none-the-less, I whoooooooshed over the waterfall.  The pressure of the water forced me under at the base of the cliff and held me down there for a bit. I spent the next several days struggling to make sense of it, gasping for breath, trying to right myself.  Not sure if I was seeing river bottom or sky.  In some ways I was completely taken off guard by the thoughts I was being confronted with.  Some of these I had put aside years ago...

If you've been following any of this thread, you know that I am working through a set of challenges with a few friends.  This week's challenge is:  "Read/recite Psalm 23 twice a day, memorize it if possible- until it feels like breathing to you, think of these words throughout each day."

Okay, I'm not going to soften this for you, because my internal response was a little... uh, raw.  My reaction was anger with complete irritation. I was not just a mildly ticked.  If there is one thing that has felt like pouring acid on a burn patient over the last year or two (more really, but who's really keeping track?) it's the churchy, chritianese, cliche garbage people say when they have never lived through anything more inconvenient than not having a Starbucks close to their office. Why, when I've had so much progress and hope, would I be thrown a bumper sticker phrase to marinate on?  Where's the deep stuff of Job or some crazy obscure place in Zephaniah?  Okay, so now that I've offended half of you, here's what's happened this week, so far:

I'm a rule follower, so I had my fit, then followed the rules.  In case you're not familiar with the chapter here it is:

"A Psalm of David.  The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.  He makes me lie down in green pastures.  He leads me beside still waters.  He restores my soul.  He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake.  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff , they comfort me.  You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil;  my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all of my days and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

On Day 1 of this week I wrote in my journal before I did the reading/reciting thing.  Yeah, I've tried, there's really no way for me to clean my thoughts up in order to make them public.  It's not that they're evil or awful really, just really intense.  I feel a real sense of responsibility to respect, even in some ways, protect, the people I have been hurt by.  There will just be some experiences, both recent and ancient history, that I will not be specific about on here for that reason alone.

That night I finally got around to reading the verses, mentally checked the box for the day, turned out the light and closed my eyes.  "Restores My Soul", kept drifting through my mind quietly.  Then with more persistence. What?  How?  It's crushed, tattered, no- fed through a commercial sized meat grinder.  Hmmmm?  What's that?  Now I have to turn the light on and look it up to get it right:  "...but we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.  We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned, struck down, but not destroyed..."  By now, if you knew me then, you'd know that I'm pretty musically bent and that both Psalm 23 and 2 Corinthians 4:7-9 have several songs based on them.  So as you can imagine, the light stayed on.  The songs pouring through my head. Words flying from my pen into my journal.  Tears.  Raw, gut wrenching, hurt.  It felt good to get it all out, so after awhile, I lay back down.  Light out.  Eyes closed...


"He leads me beside still waters and makes me lie down in green pastures"  is the echo I hear now.  Okay. My eyes open now.  So why is my mind not still?  Why am I not resting on green pastures?  I told you last week that my mental gymnast pulled a muscle.  This wrestling with stuff is not producing anything.  HOW do I do this?  "Be still and know that I am God." Now the light comes on again.  I pull out my journal again. This time, less upset, more intentional.  I will write down the secret fears and desires and griefs-some that I have been unwilling to openly admit to anyone.  Six pages later, light out.  Eyes closed.  Sleep on its way...

Or not.  Yesterday's sermon title pops into my mind.  "The Impossible Is What God Does Best".  Really?  Somehow the six pages I just wrote seem beyond impossible, but I am now completely exhausted.  I sleep.

Tuesday I woke up to numbness.  Not restless, wrestling, racing thoughts, hurt, fear, hope.  Nothing.  Just numb.  The word "restoration" floats and flickers throughout my morning, I push it away.  I don't even care.  I checked the box of reading/reciting.  I tried to be productive around the house.  I'm completely ineffective.  The hats I've been wearing all of these years and months are starting to fall off.  I'm not even sure I like hats.  I certainly wouldn't have chosen some of them.  I wouldn't have even been caught dead  shopping in the aisle of a few of them.  I have no choice, so I will wear hats, and do it as well as I can for as long as I need to.  I am numb.

Tuesday wears on.  Numbness starts to turn into pain.  I drift in and out of pain, tears are strangely falling- disconnected from emotion.  I literally feel like I'm waking up from surgery. When I had my hysterectomy, my wake up from surgery was like this.  I would start to gain consciousness and tears would flow, uninhibited.  My sweet nurse, a big Southern lady named Debbie, told me to go back to sleep.  Every I time woke up crying she would assure me I was okay and tell me to go back to sleep.  Eventually, I woke up completely.  No tears. 

As I am re-reading my stuff since Monday I cannot believe it's only Wednesday.  This morning I woke up completely.  No tears.  I'm not numb.  I actually laughed, a lot, today.  This idea of Him restoring my soul is not so inconceivable.  As far as I can tell nothing on my six pages of fears, desires and griefs has been addressed specifically and the delicate little flowers I kicked and picked are still lying around the ground of my heart, but today I can be still and know He is God.

The Lower Falls of the Yellowstone taken by Raun Savage.

The hot falls on White Creek in Yellowstone Park taken by Randy Wilson.

Blessings, Bears, Beets, Battlestar Galactica...

Today is the final day of the Blessings week.  The challenge was to try to come up with at least 100 over the course of the last 7 days.  I got to 100, then blew past- and not just because I counted the silly ones too!  Today, even after I stopped writing them down, my thoughts kept circling the unwritten, obscure blessings in my quick-as-a-vapor life.   At one point I was reminded of an illustration told by George Buttrick:

"A lecturer to a group of businessmen displayed a sheet of white paper on which was one blot.  He asked what they saw.  All answered "a blot".  The test was unfair, it invited the wrong answer.  Nevertheless, there is an ingratitude to human nature by which we notice the black disfigurement and forget the wide-spread mercy.  We need to deliberately call to mind the joys of our journey.  Perhaps we should try to write down the blessings of one day.  We might begin:  we could never end: there are not pens or paper enough in all the world.  The attempt would remind us of our "vast treasure of content".

This has been a bit of a tough weekend for me.  My heart has been rescued by this exercise more than once.  Last night I re-read my blog entries over the last two weeks.  It feels good to see progress "on paper".   I have a feeling that I will need to refer back to these days from time to time...

76- Phone Calls- shorten the miles, ease the missing.


77- Mercy- undeserved compassion


78 Peace- the absence of debate, turmoil, war

79 Barns- old, rickety, a place of refuge, the smell of animals and dust and hay, the loft to play in, the scurrying mice, the smell of old leather and grain...

80 Tire Swings- the rush of wind, feeling of suspension just before the return swing, the creaking of the rope around the tree.

81 NASCAR- the soothing, comforting sound of tires on pavement, the excitement and pride of watching an uncle race, the love of cars and speed and engine noise.

82 Blue Eyes- six specific ones that look at me with trust and love and hope and admiration, whether I've earned it or not.


83 Purple- because I can make it work on me

84 Straightening Irons- because I remember the days without them and my hair has only gotten curlier over time.

85 Volleyball- the only sport I was (mildly) able to do! The blessing is in the team.

86 Making S'mores- the campfire, friends, chill of the evening and melty mallows and chocolate do not have to be explained.


87 Dark Chocolate- but only the smooth stuff.

88 Northern Lights- especially watching them next to me out of a plane window! Spectacular!

89 Fragrance of Rain- fresh and clean


90 Stranger's Smile- brings me out of myself, reminds me that people matter.

91 Friend's Smile- knowing encouragement.


92 Baby Smiles- eager, excited, pure.

93 Lip Gloss- especially in the dry Montana winter!

94 Fragrance of Leather- deep and rich and nostalgic.

95 Dimples- not sure why, but they bless me. What a gift that my daughter got a set!


96 Holding Hands- with a parent, friend, child, lover. 

97 Memory- the ability to hang on to life's experiences, the good and the bad, and to retain the growth that comes from them.

98 Salmon Fishing- makes trout fishing extremely uninteresting. Sorry guys.


99 The 20 Mile River- some of my best Alaska memories took place on that river- with old friends, family, strangers that became friends...

100 Back Rubs-  human touch, relief of stress, rare and relaxing.

101 Redwoods- if you don't understand , I'll just have to take you there...

Crowd Noise & Blessings

Thanksgiving and football go together.  Ever since I can remember there was at least one game being monitored while the fragrance of a roasting turkey spread through the house.  Every year Mom and Dad would go hunting early Thanksgiving morning.  About the time I reached 12 or 13 Mom trusted my kitchen skills enough to extend their time away and I would start the meal myself.  By 15 I was doing the entire thing on my own.  As vital to the holiday as turkey, hunting and thankfulness, was the noise of the football crowd, my yelling brothers and the sound of a good tackle.

My first Thanksgiving away from my family was not much different as far as football was concerned.  In fact, if we were at my in-laws', the men/boys were usually tossing a ball around in the yard or street, while the girls made dinner- the game on TV keeping us company inside.

When I started hosting the holiday at our home in Alaska, we usually invited a few guys without family to visit.  You got it- the games always on. 

This was my first, noticeably, football-less Thanksgiving.  On the actual day, it was not a big deal.  I hardly noticed the lack of crowd noise with all of the kid noise in the house.  The girls and I did check the scores on my phone now and then- mainly because we had unanimously decided Green Bay and Dallas needed to lose (obviously, we should have cheered more diligently against both!). So yesterday, as the dust settled from my trip and I tried to find something to do now that the kids were back at their dad's, the college games called to me.  Isn't it weird to be a girl, sitting alone- the nearest boys 5 miles away, flipping back and forth between games? Probably, so I'm probably not going to risk explaining to you my fascination with NASCAR!  Maybe I'll save that for when the 2012 season starts...

Today, in lieu of football, I worked.  Then I had lunch with the girls.  Then more great conversation with a valuable friend.  I am tired.  My mental gymnast has pulled a muscle, so I will spare you from the subsequent processing and continue my Blessed List.  Yesterday's 21 things, added to the 33 before, brings me to:


55 Stretching- lift your tight aching arms above your head and streeeeeetch, or press your toes up on the wall and stretch your calf muscles....hold it....oh, that hurts!  But now, that's done, doesn't if feel good to stretch? Now take your self out of the comfort zone and blog, or contact someone you've been afraid you've hurt, or ________ you fill in the blank.  What stretches you?  Oh, it hurts a bit.  Now that it's done, it's feeling pretty good to stretch.

56 Recipes- make me feel like a whiz in the kitchen.  Someone else's vision on my table is very satisfying when put together by me.

57 Pictures- tell the truth in an artistic way.  I love photographers, the ones who consider themselves to be "real photographers" and those who don't.  You all bless me with your point of view.


58 New Socks- If I had a trillion dollars, I'd wear new socks every day.


59 Grace- a blessing, unearned, undeserved.  Beautiful and rich.


60 Lilacs- the purple ones especially.  I love how they stink up a whole neighborhood!  I love that my new house has them. I love the memories they give me.

61 My Old Horse Charlie- a million years ago he was the vehicle I accessed to go fast, get away, think, process.


62 Crosses- used to mark the memory of someone important.  Used to pay the price by Someone vital.

63 Spontaneity- because it makes the day worth seeing through.

64 Jewelry- the special pieces- a reminder of a loved one or an important event.  The inherited pieces, the going away gift from a friend, the birthstone of a child, the gift from a brother the year he fought cancer, the gift from another brother deployed half a world away, the plastic "diamond" my kids gave me to remind me that I'm loved...

65 Architecture- artistic, functional lines.

66 Childlike Faith- pure, simple, trusting.

67 Pockets- a fabulous addition to every clothing item.  Okay, well almost every, I just remembered the shoes with the zippered pockets we all used to have.  Those shouldn't come back.  Ever.

68 Naps- Mom, you were right when I was four.  I remember the adamant fit I threw when you told me that some day I would love the opportunity to take a nap.  "I will NEVER want a nap."  Write it down, Mom knew better!


69 Newborn Snuggles- what's not to love?  They smell so good, feel so warm and squishy. They grunt and sigh and depend on you wholly!

70 Nail Polish-  because it dresses up a tomboy's appearance pretty quickly.

71 People- everyone has a story.  Everyone is valid. 


72 Contacts- because wearing my glasses somehow makes me feel disconnected from the people around me.

73 Laughter- because it's contagious.


74 Lunch With The Girls- blesses me, just because I have "girls".


75 Fire- the sounds, colors, power, warmth and smell.  Amazing.

Slumber Party

I don't like being told how or when to do what.  I think that's why I generally resist the "spirit" of most holidays.  I think things get blown so out of proportion and un-simplified  by our culture.  That being said, I have really enjoyed this week's assignment- even if it fell during the same week that everyone else in the America was thinking the same thing.

The kids and I spent the last two days with a close friend of mine.  We did the math last night.  This girl and I have been friends for 22 years.  Of course, being barely 22 ourselves.... Yeah, whatever, I already admitted to the arctic blonde...Needless to say, we've been through some stuff together.  Real stuff.

I have no idea when our first slumber party was, I assume it was soon after the start of 7th grade.  Early on conversations were typical and girly.  There was lots of giggling, a few tears now and then, more energy than I can fathom anymore!  We discussed a boy or two, parents, siblings, first kisses, jr. high "dances",  movies, music, trips, dreams....Over the years things got more complex.  Some things I'm not prepared to share publicly, but she was there,and then, for her, I was there.  Always. 

The last two nights, as we talked, and giggled the hours away, we reflected on some of the stuff we went through together.  I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was the heartbreak, trauma, and the tragedies that have shaped us into the individuals we are.  They have been same tools that have given us the respect, trust and admiration we have now for each other as friends.  As a result, the sweet times are that much sweeter.

As we lay in bed this morning, hoping to squeeze out another 15 minutes of rest  (while kids took turns hugging the toilet, mind you!),  we talked about this blog.  My friend- who knew me when, knew me last year, and sticks in it with me so far this week- reminded me of who I am.  So, today, I'm adding to my Blessed List 21 things for you Jess:

1 I Have Not Always Been A Runner- this is a temporary, coping thing.  I am blessed because at the end of this, I get me back.  A deeper, richer, more firmly planted, me.

2 Cruise Control- helps me restrain myself.  That is a good thing!

3 Sweet Tea-  with not too much, not too little, just enough real sugar.

4 Grief-  only because it has made me deeper, wiser, stronger, sweeter.


5 Tears- for the power wash that they are.

6 Mirrors- because they don't lie. The naked eye compensates, over-corrects, deceives... mirrors are important in my job, because they show the truth of every line and angle.  They are important figuratively in my life because they show the truth of every choice, reflex and direction.

7 Golden Grass- the reflection of the sun on the blades catches my breath.

8 Clouds- the constant shifting of shapes and colors, never bore, never disappoint.

9 Gum- the mint kinds specifically. 

10 Second Generation Sleepovers- what a blessing to see our 6 kids building forts with the couches and giggling themselves to sleep 22 years later.


11 God's Perfect Timing- they way He moves people, places and things in and out of our lives is astounding to me.

12 Baby's Greasy Hand Print- that I just couldn't wash off my oven before I sold my first house.  Sorry whoever bought that.  He left one on my heart too.

13 Jeans That Fit Just Right- need I explain?  The day after Thanksgiving, especially!

14 Surrogate Aunts- the handful of you girls who treat my kids like they're blood.  You bless me.

15 The $20 In My Pocket After The Wash- doesn't get much better!


16 Laying On The Floor In a Sunspot- warm, secure- reminds me of being a kid.

17 Mountains- snow capped or otherwise.  The view means I'm home.

18 Sharpies- every color, but black the most. 


19 The Dishwasher- because I recently ran a household without. 


20 Maggie & Joe- the Jack Russells I call mine.  Loyal, always.


21 Communication In A Glance- because I am known.

A Few More Things...

Yesterday I was a little off.  I decided sometime around 5:00 this morning, that this is actually the perfect scenario in which I should be counting my blessings...

16 Sunrises- it's not up yet this morning, but yesterday it was bright enough to bathe my whole bed in pink.  That's a fantastic way to wake up!

17 Sunsets- offer closure- the promise of a do-over or the perfect wrap on a great day.


18 Thunderstorms- a powerful cleansing of the earth, with a light show to boot!  I have a new appreciation for a good Montana summer storm.  In 7 years in Alaska I think we had two, and they weren't all that impressive.

19 Second Family-  amazing people who have invited me into their own family lives to share holidays when my own family is too far away.  All of you bless me more than you know.

20 Puzzles- because they bring people together.

21 Charles, Gary, Daniel, John, Brian-  whether they are 20 months older, 15 years younger or somewhere in between, they are protective and understanding and just plain comfortable to hang out with. Brothers are the best.


22 Hair Color- because I'm not old enough to have my arctic blonde show yet.


23 Anesthesia-  because my last two surgeries may have sucked without.


24 Four Wheel Drive-  takes me more places I want to go.

25 Danika, Joseph, Josiah- all of my nieces and nephews are blessings, but these three are miracle blessings.

26 Shoes-  not just shoes, pretty shoes.  Somehow they make the hard stuff easier to walk through.


27 Lamp-  I love lamp.  I love carpet.  (Okay, I'm kidding, I started to feel a little Anchorman-ish.)

28 Fantastic Neighbors-  that cul-de-sac in Anchorage was packed full of them and this block appears to be too!


29 Friends Who Paint- Britt and Jessi, you rock.  They even do the cutting in ladies and gentlemen.


30 Buckets of Paint- a cheap way to make a dingy old place feel fresh.

31 Nathan-  responsible, thoughtful, gracious, intelligent, hard working, protective, creative, excellent at fishing and baking and not afraid to be himself.

32 Isaac- witty, intelligent, deep thinking, adventurous, charming, even tempered, sensitive, strong, with a keen sense of right and wrong.

33 Hannah- generous, affectionate, sweet, peacemaking, funny, gorgeous inside and out, obedient, strongly individual, assures me she's never going to hate me! (Do you think I should get that on paper before jr. high?)

Happy Thanksgiving my friends.  I'll keep trudging (in pretty shoes) along this process, "off" days or not.  <3

Blessed

For some reason tonight I am unable to refine my journal entry for today enough to make it public.  My head is wandering around this incredible task I've been handed called mothering.  Specifically, mothering men.  I'm feeling pretty darn inadequate, having never been a man myself.  I have a pretty clear understanding of the kind of men I want to raise: adventurers, honest, protectors, humble, courageous, peacemakers, strong leaders, unafraid of the right kinds of battles, able and willing to exercise self control...  This culture offers so few examples of that man.  I have never heard of one single little boy that ever looked to his mother to figure out how to be a man, yet I know my role is important.  Anywho.... I guess I'll let these thoughts steep and proceed with the challenge:

Week 3 Day 1

This week's challenge is to come up with at least 100 things I consider to be a blessing in my life.  It is truly coincidental that this chapter fell on Thanksgiving week.  In no particular order or ranking, here's my start as they come to me:

1. Coffee- a drink of necessity and nostalgia.  I love the depth of the flavor, variety of beans and roasts and the comfort of the fragrance.  I love that "going to get coffee" with someone leads to friendships, intimacy, acceptance.


2 My House- the circumstances of purchasing this house, in this location, during the exact right time, involving just the right people, could not have been more perfectly orchestrated. 

3 My Salon- I say "my", but let's be clear: Marilyn  is the best owner in the history of salons!  Well, my history for sure.  I am doing what I am passionate about, surrounded by the perfect mesh of gracious personalities.  These women are like big sisters to me- providing a protective, creative, welcoming atmosphere.

4 A Generous Stranger- the $1000 gift of cash, tucked in a bag of clothes for my kids last year, when I didn't have two quarters to my name.  I am still humbled, and blessed today for that.

5 The Generosity of Friends- countless lunches, coffees, furniture, kitchen gadgets, a tank of gas, rent money, birthday gifts for the kids, soft shoulders for crying,  warm homes- with Super Mario Brother's and Wii Golf/Bowling- for weekend escapes, a shared bottle of red, work appropriate clothes- in my size, strong muscles for moving my whole house, and then again and again... The list continues. I am incredibly, magnificently blessed.

6 Tulips- the signal of spring.  The most graceful flower, yet strong enough to force through the cold ground and withstand a spring snow.

7 Scars- a sure sign that healing has taken place.

8 Music- for when my own words fail.

9 Water In Nature- all forms fascinate me; today I'm thinking waterfalls.

10 Perfume- for making an ordinary tomboy feel like a lady.

11 Obedient, Respectful Kids- who struggle at home at times, but live what they're taught when I'm not around.

12 Second Chances- and thirds.

13 Comfortable Silences- because we "get" each other.

14 Montana's Big Sky- because it really is bigger here.

15 Travel- the soothing of a wanderer.

What's Smaller Than a Mustard Seed?

I made it!  A whole week of the crazy that is in me, pouring out!  I know I'm a bit of a mess, but I feel like I'm being swept "as we speak".  Today is Sunday.  I went to church three weeks in a row. That's actually kind of a big deal these days.  Not that I got a gold sticker or anything, but it's evidence of my healing- which is actually a little encouraging.  We were given a quote that I have to share with you.  Jerry Sittser, who apparently suffered incredible loss, wrote "A Grace Disquised"  The book, which I have not read, is on grief and loss.  He writes:

"...depth of sorrow is a sign of a healthy soul...it is not something to escape, but to embrace... sorrow is noble and gracious.  It enlarges the soul until the soul is capable of mourning and rejoicing simultaneously, of feeling the world's pain and hoping for the world's healing at the same time.  However painful, sorrow is good for the soul."

The fact is, if you live, you will grieve.  While I do not intend to minimize my situation, or anyone else's, I will say that I am acutely aware of experiences survived by many of you, that are much more deeply devastating than anything I have experienced this far in my life.  I've been thinking about some of these scenarios over the week.  These thoughts have brought me to today's exercise:


Week 2 Day 7 

After bringing the kids to their dad, I decided to head out of town.  I took Rimrock west.  Out past Yellowstone Country Club, past Iron Wood... to the end of the gravel road, just before the curve.  I chased the sunset to get here.  Tonight it is not extremely vivid.  Pastel blues and greys melt into soft oranges and yellows.  Swirled in the mix, behind the whirlpool of clouds there is a bright pink, where the sun is still glowing.  Here where I parked, tufts of golden grasses stand above the drifted snow.  The sage brush has, with the help of the wind, shaken the snow completely off.  In the farmer's field, plow lines show their ruts through the thin layer of crusted snow. I got out of my car to take a few pictures in each direction.  The day was warm, but now with the sun down the chill has set in again.  I return to my heater, turn the phone off and sit...

There they are again. Those two words I have been watching chase each other around my mind for nearly two months.  FAITH and TRUST.

"Do you ever wonder if God is still in control?"  I asked a friend a few weeks ago.  "He is always in control, it's up to you to trust Him" was the reply.  Well, "what if I can't anymore?" I asked.  "You can, you just have to get past yourself first."

Okay, I want that.  How am I getting in my way?  I've been struggling with this question since that night.  My limited understanding of my circumstances as they pertain to me NOW, gets in my way.  My short sighted, what feels most comfortable, allergy to the seasons of change in my life, gets in my way.  (Yes, this is why "seasonalallergy" is the address of my blog.)  My quick-to-flee reflexes get in my way.  My perfectionism and pride and daydreams get in my way. My microscopic, essentially invisible, smaller than a mustard seed faith, gets in the way.

Trust is a screwy thing for me.  I am a giant pendulum.  Does Big Ben have one?  If so, I'm it.  I started out trusting everyone.  I was taught that a person's word, their integrity, is all they have.  I assumed everyone knew that, along with it's kinda bad to kill people.  It turns out not everyone sees it that way.  So, I recently have swung the other way.  Trust no one.  Everyone is lying and will use me.  Everyone has an angle.  Have I mentioned I tend to operate in absolutes?  It's time to grow up, wise up. Start finding my way down the center, walking by faith.  In this process I am hoping to figure out how to stay open, but not give myself wholeheartedly to everyone.  To watch trust being earned.

It seems extremely ridiculous to even say it, but it's true:  The God of the universe, Creator of everything, knitter of me, painter of tonight's sunset, sculptor of the rims, is earning my trust.  I've been sensing Him for months now, even in my anger, being faithful.  Meeting most desperate needs, without my asking or deserving.  Now He is softly, persistently, firmly drawing me back into the comfort of His arms.  The condemnation I experienced from His people is not actually coming from Him.

"Oh, I'm running to your arms, I'm running to your arms. The riches of your love, will always be enough. Nothing compares to your embrace"

P.S.  I just peeked at next week's lesson.  Guess what the chapter is called?  "God Is Trustworthy".  Coincidence?   I think not.  Oh, and guess what else?  The "soul training" exercise?  "Count Your Blessings"  Irony, it being Thanksgiving week?  Hmmmm...could be a good week.

Shadows

Week 2 Day 6

I am not a quitter.  This is the reason you're reading this today.  I've lived a lifetime of thinking this week.  I'm hoping, as you may be too, to have a few lighter days ahead.  I won't say that these two weeks haven't been productive, however.

Our second snow of the season fell last night.  This could be the lasting kind.  It's not deep, but it's bitter cold.  Today is a gorgeous clear day, as are all of the coldest days during the winter in the North. As I write, the 111 year tradition of the Cat/Griz blood-bath is taking place at MSU in Bozeman.  The majority of those games have been won by U of M, so odds are Griz will be victorious again.  In fact, they're up in the third quarter right now.  The TVs, radios, internet and every corner bar or casino in the state are tuned in and inundated with the trash talk.  I love Montana.  I love Montanans.

My house is cozy today.  The kids are generally friendly, helpful, happy.  The pot roast I made yesterday has been turned into a stew and is simmering on the stove with a fresh loaf of french bread ready and waiting.  Things feel perfect.  Except...

Lurking beneath the surface of my mind there are shadows.  I left the house in the middle of third quarter, told the kids I have my "homework" to do, and drove.  I'm searching for a quite place to put these shadowy, restless thoughts on paper.  Driving through the deserted streets of my frozen neighborhood, I am amazed at how I'm noticing shadows everywhere.  The trees, power lines, cars, houses, dogs- all casting shadows across my path.

I make my way to Pioneer Park.  I notice the abandoned bleachers of Daylis Stadium.  There are still balloons, Helena Capital's colors, attached to a section.  Helena beat Billings West in the State AA Championship last night.  Funny how empty it seems now.  I drive past the tennis courts and park next to the Frisbee Golf course section of the park on 3rd.  There are footprints meandering all over the rolling hills.  Abandoned picnic tables and grills stand out against the snow.  A lone person, a mailman, is trudging through the snow on the sidewalk.  Here again, shadows layer themselves across the snow.

Last night after my Day 5 posting I felt like it should be "Friday" for me.  I shouldn't have homework on the weekend, right?  I started getting restless.  I know that this work to be done in my heart and head is not a 9-5 deal.  Now I really have the urge to flee.  "Shutdown Collene, you've been too open, too exposed.  Board up the windows, hibernate in your bed, fly South for the winter, rocket ship to the moon, take it all back.  RUN AWAY."  After what I just went through for 24 1/2 months, wasn't this just the most foolish thing I could have done?  I just KNOW more heartache is right around the corner and now look at me; I'm wider open, more unprotected than ever before.

I have amazing friends who have discernment as well as the ability to absolutely make me laugh- at myself! So, last night I was talked down from the ledge, reminded why I'm here, assured of the true narratives to replace the screwed up ones.  I'm not coming this far to turn and run.  I'm not quitting.  In terms of battle- There's no sitting on the battlefield.  My choices are wave the white flag or win the war and get home.  So, I'm fighting on.

As I'm looking at this park I'm flooded with memories.  "Blink Collene".  For some reason I'm getting watery. Right there is the place I sat with my mom and kids this summer at The Symphony in the Park.  I've been here 9 years and this was a first for me.  I'm thankful I just DID it, finally!  Over the hill my sister got married on the grass near the sidewalk a year ago.  That feels like a lifetime ago.  "Okay, tears are pressing in.  Blink faster." The playground.  I wonder how many hours I spent there?  They took down the merry-go-round and the metal ladder climby thing.  I took pictures of the kids in that every year, including the times we came down for a visit from Alaska.  Sometimes, with the other cousins. The wading pool.  My first pregnant picture of Isaac was taken in that pool, with baby Nathan on my hip.  There is the tree I sat under, exhausted, struggling inside, losing hope, pregnant again, watching the boys run.  Susan was living with me then.  She was fabulous, helping me with the boys.  Just west of that tree and the playground is the creek.  That thing is magnetic to little boys.  Ducks, sticks, frisbees, bare feet, leaves.  You name it, we either put it in, dug it out, or tried to catch it for hours!  On the other side of the park is where John took our pictures for last year's Christmas card.  (Don't expect one this year, by-the-way, I'm not on my game! I might try again next year...) The memories are flooding in now, these are just a few. 

Shadows and light.  Deep sadness mixed with bright hope, mixed with fear, mixed with nostalgia, mixed with exhaustion, mixed with joy.  All mixed with love. I am looking forward to the Son shining bright enough to cause these shadows to flee.

Black Cats, Ladders and Broken Mirrors

Superstition.  It's the word that's been floating around my mind since Wednesday.  I don't consider myself to be superstitious in the slightest.  Black cats, ladders and broken mirrors mean nothing to me.  I don't follow horoscopes or have any interest in "the year of the" whatever it is.  In fact those things pretty much never cross my mind.

It was suggested to me Wednesday, that those of us who see God as being either a punishing or a blessing God- depending on our behavior, are exercising a form of superstition.  So now we bump up against, perhaps, my most crippling internal narrative:  "God loves me when I'm good, but is angry and holds back from me when I'm bad."

Because of my background, I know in a recited-memory-verse kind of way, that this narrative doesn't match up with what the bible says about God through Jesus and His teachings.  But as of today, these verses have done nothing to change my internal beliefs for daily operation.

"He makes the sun rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Matt 5:45

This makes sense to me in broad terms like natural disaster, but somehow, as it pertains to personal application, it hasn't meshed for me...

I am a rule follower.  Growing up, the most rebellious thing I did was paint my nails, with T.J. Spehar in the "No Trespassing" labeled abandoned cabin near our house.  Both the trespassing and the nail painting was naughty!  Dad, for some reason, hated nail polish, and the cabin was falling down and completely unstable.  I still have no idea how we didn't get crushed next to that pot bellied stove!

I followed the "rules" when it came to school, dating, even marriage.  I had a mental list of do's and don'ts and I checked every single box.  I assumed I was in the clear.  I was wrong.  Devastatingly wrong.  The "right thing" didn't save me and in some ways God didn't bless me for being "good".  Obviously, I am not asserting that I have lived my whole live without blessings.  Three major ones come to mind!  But in specific ways I feel let down by God, and I did it "His way".  Superstition.  Rabbits foot.  This week I am starting to see things a little differently...

Week 2 Day 5

So the creation part of my assignment today is going to have to be carried out on my back step, for time's sake.  This summer I bought each of the kids a small cactus to care for.  They had a fruit fly infestation, so I set them outside in the cool weather to kill the flies.  The step is where they are in quarantine.  I will confess that I don't remember who's is who's or even what their names are, but that doesn't matter for our purposes today.

All of them are spiky for protection.  The one on the left is soft to the touch.  As long as you don't brush your fingers upwards, you can even pet it.  The one on the right is not soft enough to pet, but is not off putting either.  Clearly the cactus in the center has an axe to grind.  Maybe the little guy is fearful.  He must be expecting the worst.

I'm thinking about bitterness and the power unbridled anger has in a person.  I've met a few people like that center cactus.  I'm guessing that most of us are more like the one on the right.  Guarded, a little sharp at times, but not all-together off putting. What would it be like to live life like the soft one?  Approachable, gentle, but still with the ability to protect the heart of myself.  With all of my disillusions, hurt, anger and lost hopes, God help me be like that little guy.

Steadfast Pursuit

It's not all fun and games.  This week is exhausting.  Today I have remnants of thoughts from the last week and a half mingling with the internal narratives of the last three decades.  For an over-thinker like me, it's over-load.

If there are readers of this blog, there are at least three categories of you:  The ones that knew me when, the ones that are confused and had no idea that I was even divorced, much less back in Montana, and those that know me well today.  It's a little overwhelming to realize that I have no control over WHO reads this.  These two years have been excruciating in terms of relationship loss.  I shudder a little to imagine my heart so open, in the hands of "the enemy".  But, whatev.  They've had their fun, and I'm better for it.  Maybe one day I can genuinely thank them.  Today is not that day.

If you've known me long, you know how connected to the church community I have always been.  You may have known me in the context of Mexican missions.  Some of you have taught me in a class.  Others have heard me sing week after week on the praise team.  A select few of you have been in studies I have taught. On marriage.  (The irony is not lost on me girls, trust me.)  A precious group of you have met with me in a small group setting- for years, dissecting sermons and discussing life application....

There's another group of you that know me recently.  You  know how angry I have been at Christians and God and "churchiness".  This facade, the stained glass masquerade, fake, fake, fake.  I loathe the churchy phrases.  I have absolutely NO tolerance for theological debate and ideology.  You have probably heard me use astounding language to express my distaste.  You are the group of people that are most amazed by entries this week in my blog.

To the very small handful of you that knew me when, knew me last year, and have stuck with me so far this week: why?!  I am amazed by your grace and compassion and empathy and LOVE.

So here I am: Week 2 Day 4

The internal narrative I fear the most is circling relentlessly today.  "I am not worth fighting for.  Pursuing.  Winning."  This is not something I made up ladies and gentlemen.  It comes from months, no years, of proof.  I have not been worth it, to the ones I have given myself to the most.  Without going into a personalized list of names (what good would that do you anyway?), I see faces of no less than 10 people I genuinely loved who have been stripped from my life recently.  We could go through that list together and come up with excuses for each one, but would it help?  I can tell you, no.  So, last week's exercise was to replace the false narratives with truth.  This one is tough for me.  I don't have a lot of experience being pursued.  This will have to be strictly a faith replacement narrative.

Psalm 136 has 26 verses.  All of them end with "His steadfast love endures forever."  For today's challenge I went to Riverfront Park again.  This time I went to the river side to watch the water move.  I took note of a few things:  There is a gorgeous green color in the water.  Parts of the river that got caught up on the bank and slowed down have slime and muck and trash collected in it.  The water is low this time of year, exposing lots of rocky gravel bars.  The edges of the river where it slows have started to freeze.  There is an amazing light show on the water as the sun dances its way to noon.  There is an elderly man with a walking stick muttering to his golden ranch dog as they walk the path.  He is careful to avoid looking at me, which is satisfying, since I'm in my solitude.

There are three things I notice.  Really notice.  The first is the choppy waves from the wind on the upstream portion of the river.  Relentless, steadfast.  There is a full sized cottonwood tree washed up on a gravel bar.  It is soft and worn, like driftwood.  Shaped by the power of the water.  Downstream the water is meandering, slowly, calmly.

There is not chaos.  The river is moving powerfully, relentlessly.  Softening and shaping and moving what it comes into contact with.  Steadily pursuing the ocean, with confidence.  I am craving the pursuit.  Experiencing it, possibly.  I feel like I am being shaped, softened, moved.  I am not in control.  I am fearful.  I am excited.

Long Live The King

I am not a girly girl. I can pull off feminine now, but I am, in general, a pretty low maintenance woman.  Except that I love what I do for a living, I am nothing like the stereotypical girl in my line of work.  Maybe that is a result of the environment of my upbringing.  With a tomboy for a mom, a manly-man father, five brothers, and two sisters that were much younger than me, there weren't a lot of dolls and dresses around for my younger years.  I remember hours upon hours of "road" building for Tonka's and Matchbox cars, weekends trash-talking football and baseball games with the brothers, playing "night games" (our version of special forces in search of the enemy) with the neighbors, and shooting gophers on the weekends.  I don't remember dressing as a princess for Halloween.   

I know I raised more than one set of eyebrows when I announced my freshman year of high school, that I wanted to go to cosmetology school.  Why?  I still can't pinpoint what it was that was so appealing, but I do remember the day I decided.  My mom, who by-the-way is uneducated in the field, had always cut our hair.  The week before school started that year, my grandma visited and put her foot down.  The girls were going to a real salon for back to school haircuts.  The haircut itself was horrible.  My mom could have done better with her eyes shut. (The salon closed within months, so I must not have been the only one with issues.)  I spent the remainder of that awful year hating my curls and wishing I had a hat. I do, however, remember in detail the smells, my first ever shampoo in that fantastic sink, the upbeat music, the sound of the shears as my long hair hit the floor, the stacks and stacks of possibilities in style books...  I was hooked.  THIS is what I want to do!

Anyway, I digress.  The challenge today is the same:  Solitude in nature for at least five minutes, journaling about our thoughts.  I am sitting outside my salon between appointments.  Not the most picturesque location, nor the most peaceful.  People are repairing the portion of our building that burned last month.  WOW!! I am thankful for a place to work!

Week 2 Day 3

It's COLD!  There is not snow on the ground anymore in town.  The sun is so bright today.  Bright enough that I braved the 34 degrees, jacketless, just to feel the contrast of the cold air and the hot sun.  The wind is gentle today, swirling the leaves at our door.  When the drilling and hammering stops I can hear birds!  They seem happy, excited.  In my head is a song, as usual.  I imagine the birds know it, or one like it.

But I know the King of All Creation reigns completely
Over every moment great and small
Long live the One who gives us
Life and peace and hope for tomorrow ...

All I have is yours - Long live the King.

I remember yesterday's exercise.  My thoughts of the deeply loving Father turn into Him being King.  That makes me a princess?  I'm wearing green today, so naturally I see myself as Shrek's woman Fiona.  I feel a little Ogre-esque most days.

Princesses are so undeserving!  All they did to get the title was be born, and they really had very little control over that. Grace is receiving what we don't deserve and didn't earn.  The King of Kings graciously adopted me, a tomboy ogre, to represent His Kingdom as his daughter.  Unfathomable. But, I think I like it.

Deep Calling Deep

Week 2 Day 2

I woke up wishing for today's exercise to be carried out in Alaska.  Beluga Point, Seward, Kenai on the point...  Ocean water fascinates me, scares me- no terrifies me.  I love the beach, but even now as I write, I am catching my breath a little as I recall the first tour of Prince William Sound.

"How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure..."

In my time in Alaska I took three wildlife tours out of Seward and a halibut charter out of Homer.  All were incredible, with scenery and wildlife you couldn't make up.  Stunning.  Majestic.  Birds, Grey Whales, Orcas (breaching even- which is rare to see), Otters, Bears, Sheep, you name it, I saw it!  As long as I fixed my eyes on the horizon or kept my mind on the surface, I was fine.  Thinking of the depth beneath me would cause me to panic a little, stop breathing for a second.  Avoider.  Runner.  What I can't grasp, understand, or master, I've been fleeing.

So, today, since I was unable to catch a flight to Anchorage before my 11:00 client, I headed to the Rims for today's challenge.  The city is hazy this morning.  There are clouds.  The sun is out and even seems bright on the grass and weeds near me, but the city looks grey, cold, dead.  The mountains towards Columbus are getting snow and look miserable.

This pullout that I am in is the same one I chose the night before my divorce was filed.  I think I was parked here for nearly 4 hours.  The first couple of those hours I was on the phone begging, pushing, pleading, crying, fighting what was coming... listening for the words that I needed to hear and that after 2 hours, were never spoken.

Then I called my daddy.  He was in Phoenix having dinner with friends.  He got up from the table and went out to be alone.  For me.  For nearly an hour.  I have never learned to rely on my parents.  Obviously as a child I did for food, shelter, education... but emotionally somehow I figured that I would be an unnecessary burden or worse, a disappointment.  Many, many things I should have shared with them, but the more I kept from them, the harder it was to tell them anything at all.  On June 22, 2010 I had no where else to turn, so my poor daddy got, uh, relied on!

Dad is strong.  He has incredible character, really like no other man I've known.  He has always been pretty hard on us to do the right thing.  I have not very often seen his gracious side.  In the 17 months since that night I have caught a glimpse of what a father's grace, love and protection feels like.  Oh, I wish I had not waited 33 years to test that.  My view of God and his roll as Father and the depth of His love for me has been so warped.  I can recite His Word, but I haven't KNOWN a single drop of it personally.  I've become a master runaway, tester, avoider, doubter, pusher.

Today I am sitting here thinking of real love.  I don't "get it" anymore than I did yesterday, but I know I would like nothing more than to stand on the edge of the boat and dive into the depths.

Solitude

“I am the raindrop falling down, always longing for the deeper ground.  I am the broken, breaking seas.  Even my blood finds ways to bleed…. I am the one that you left behind,  I am the dried up doubting eyes, looking for the well that won’t run dry…running hard for the infinite, with the tears of saints and hypocrites.  I am restless...  (But now) I can hear you breathing, feel you leading, more than just a feeling. “

I first heard this song “Restless” by a group called Switchfoot a few weeks ago.  “Even my blood finds ways to bleed” could not more accurately describe the last two years.  But that was sooo last season! 

I have been in winter. I did journal during the last 24 months, but those are too raw to share.  Really too raw to re-read myself. In fact I destroyed most things I wrote then.  Let’s just suffice it to say: I was a burn patient in need of a good scraping.  Someday, maybe I’ll tell you about it. Not today.

All of this burning and scraping brings me to today… the changing of seasons, spring for me, fall for the “real world”.

Today was the windiest day.  I hate wind.  It is unsettling.  It shatters the peace.  Today was also Day One of a challenge I am participating in.  The challenge:  To spend at least five minutes a day in solitude, reflecting on creation and journaling my thoughts.  Then, the challenge continues, do something radical- something that reinforces what you’re learning about yourself.  This blog is my “radical act”.  Allowing myself to be known and understood.  Risking being misunderstood,

If you know me well, you know I am not a loner.  I never have been.  I am not comfortable with stillness, silence.  My mind moves fast and relentlessly.  I have been accused of over-analyzing everything, so being alone with my thoughts is nothing short of torturous most days, especially recently. 

Week 2 Day 1

It’s a windy day at Riverfront Park.  The leaves are gone from the trees, except the most stubborn few.  How are they hanging on with such a vicious act being perpetrated against them?  To me they look unprotected by their tree and the trees next to them.  At first I’m thinking that they are survivors.  As I’m watching them longer I begin to wonder what’s the worst that could happen if they let go, gave in to the wind?

They would fall, but not hard.  They would float gently to the ground, or be whipped along chaotically for a bit until they eventually, softly, reached their destination.  Don’t they understand they have purpose both in the tree and on the ground?  The seasons all have their importance.  The leaves have importance in each season.  So, why resist?

I am unprotected.  I feel as though I have always been.  This is one of my internal narratives.  (Week 1 was identifying our narratives and measuring them up with truth.  I may come back to this one of these days too.)  I don’t trust the winds of change.  I cling desperately, strongly, stubbornly, to what I know, even after the season has ended.  Somehow I have believed that maybe I’ll be the leaf that doesn’t float on the wind.  Maybe I’ll plummet.  The thought of more chaos is nerve racking.  I have no control in this change of season in my life.

“…I can hear you  breathing, I can feel you leading, more than just a feeling”.  God is in this wind, in this chaos.  He will gently, eventually, bring each leaf to its resting place for use in the next season.  The strong leaves, stubborn ones, will need a little more force than the others, but will be held just the same on the wind.