We Are Beautiful

The drip, driiiiip, dripping of hope fell from the icy glacier that had become my heart, pooling into a barely trickling, ice cold, stream of faith...there built a babbling brook of knowledge that led to a river of pursuit. The logs of doubt clogged the flow in places, but understanding persisted- finally breaking free into a waterfall of trust and insight.  The raging, bubbling waters have started to calm- producing a deep, wide current of hindsight and deeper faith on their path to this ocean of love- I. AM. ASTOUNDED. But, that's going to have to wait...

I have at least three blog topics swirling my mind.  I've spent the week trying to wrangle and organize concepts and experiences and "ahhh ha" moments, with little success.  I assumed that there was yet a few things to marinate in my mind and a few tires to kick in the way of life experience before I'm "pen sure".  I was right.  (I'd like to say that always happens, but it doesn't.)  A new word is being thrown into the pattern being weaved through this blog and because the concepts are flooding in through a broken dam, I'll have to do this in parts again. Tonight, to give you a hope of catching up to my racing mind, I'll start with finishing:

I've introduced you to my dad, each of my five brothers, both sisters, and all three of my kids. You have yet to meet my mom.  I'll finish my introductions with her:

She grew up in a neighborhood full of boys- for years she the only girl.  As a young teenager she found a baby skunk, named her Petunia and kept her for her very own...well, at least until the second or third time Petunia sprayed the family dog.

(Mom, Petunia and my uncle before he knew I was his favorite niece...)

As far back as I can remember, Mom has been more comfortable with a rifle over her shoulder, scanning the fields for wildlife, than pouring over recipes or home decor magazines.  In one of my most vivid memories of my mom she is standing in front of the bathroom mirror with needle and thread.  She was giving herself stitches, having split the bridge of her nose open with the scope on her new rifle.  My mom is not afraid of physical pain- as you might have might have surmised if you've already done the 8 baby count in your head.

Mom is deep.  She is internal.  Throughout our childhood, many, many of our long trips into town to get groceries, were filled with the soft sounds of her quietly humming or singing various songs under her breath- only to be interrupted by a seemingly disconnected statement coming from somewhere deep within her.

In many ways Mom and I are vastly different:  She is internal, I am external.  She thrives in her alone time or in one-on-one scenarios; I thrive in groups or crowds and usually dislike being alone.  She prefers to shoot with a gun, I prefer to shoot with a camera.  She prefers tennis shoes, I prefer heels.  She hates make-up and hair product, I make my living with make-up and hair product.  Mom rolls her eyes at "nonsense" I am FULL of nonsense!

This week I've thought a lot about how we are the same.  We both crave affection in the form of words of affirmation.  We both have a desire to serve people.  We are happiest when we are helping.   We are both critical, for better or worse.  We are both analytic. We are both strong-willed and persistent.  We are both practical. We both need to know that we are valid, valued...lovely.

That brings me to this new word, well a phrase actually, that is infiltrating my days:

I Am Beautiful.

Sometimes, "She is beautiful" is the phrase in my thoughts as I gaze at my daughter, glance at a client, think of a friend...

It's an uncomfortable thing for me to admit.  This "loving me the way Jesus does" thing seems to have gotten out of hand, actually.  I can see wisdom and function in loving myself through boundaries at work, taking time to fix a healthy meal and get enough rest. Seeing myself as beautiful is not, seemingly, functional or necessary.  If you stick with me for the next couple of blogs, you'll see that it actually has become quite functional, but I'm getting ahead of myself...

As the word "beautiful" wove its way through my week, I thought a lot about my mom's perspective on beauty.  Without even thinking about it consciously or intentionally, I've passed some of the same mom-isms to my daughter.  My daughter is DROP, DEAD, GORGEOUS.  That is not my fault, really.  Her resemblance to the other side of the family is undeniable, while I struggle to pick out a few of her mannerisms that are from me. Almost daily my daughter hears compliments and comments about her dimples or her blue eyes or her smile or her perfect complexion.  At ten, she has started to squirm and argue with the compliment givers- unable to receive them.  I hate that!  I have tried to teach her to graciously accept compliments, but that seems like a waste of time, since I have yet to, comfortably, accept them myself.

As a kid my mom reminded me, always, that external beauty isn't what matters, it's the internal beauty that God cares about and that people will most be attracted to.  There were always examples of a pretty faced girl with an ugly attitude.  I see her point, she's not entirely wrong.  However, as I'm hearing myself parrot the same phrases back to my incredibly, physically beautiful daughter- with a compassionate, ridiculously generous, witty, intelligent nature- I am watching her become less than who she really is.  I'm not going to assert that it's my fault, because she is 10.  It is her turn to enter the miserable, confusing, hormonal time of life known as puberty.  Still I wonder, how much of her changing perspective of who she is, has to do with my words (or lack of words)? Furthermore, how much antidote power do I have in counteracting the nonsense and lies she will hear from this twisted culture?

I started assessing us this week.  Because the world greets us, seeing our external beauty first, I thought it appropriate to start the assessment there.  I first wrote about my favorite physical feature. Yep, it's awkward to type it... Then I asked my daughter what she likes most about her looks.  Yep, she had a hard time answering. She acted like she would get in trouble for answering.  That broke my heart.  I didn't ask my mom the same question, but I did ask one of my sisters.  Interesting, all three of us said the same thing!  I loved our answers, they were very similar, and if I were to tell you what MY favorite physical feature of my mom and my other sister, it would be five for five.  Here we are and here's what we love:

 Mom has soft eyes. They are a mirror, quickly reflecting my own joy or pain or confusion.  They are deep.  They are warm.  She says she has another set in the back of her head, but I've shampooed as well has cut every single hair on her head, there are no eyes back there...

Deb says her eyes are her favorite feature. (She's next to me, in the blue dress.)  She says they look friendly when she looks in the mirror.  They are soft, gentle and full of life.  They are quick and fiery too.  Sometimes they laugh, even when she isn't laughing.  They give her away. 

Susan's eyes are compassionate.  She has miles and miles of eyelashes.  They are rich and kind and deep.  Her eyes are trusting. She doesn't know I stole this picture, or that I'm posting it.  Shhhhh, don't tell her...

 Hannah says she loves her eyes because they are so sparkly.  She gets told all the time that they look like her grandma's eyes on her dad's side- because they are blue.  She likes that.  This year she was happy because someone told her that they look like my mom's eyes. They are the same shape as hers.  Hannah loves that she can see both of her grandmas when she looks in her eyes.  Hannah's eyes are hopeful, fresh, full of mischief, and kindness.  Hannah cannot lie, her eyes always tell the truth.

My eyes are kind and complex.  When I look in them I see pain mixed with hope. My eyes are honest and gentle.  They are, subtly, two different colors.  I've been told they are sexy, by more than one man.  I'm not sure how or what that means, but I'll take it I guess- it seems like a compliment.

*Our family is blessed with four more gorgeous little girls- my nieces.  They all have ridiculously amazing eyes.  I have not asked for (nor randomly ever gotten) permission to post any of them for public viewing on the world wide web, and they are minors, soooooooooooo I'll just let you imagine for yourselves.

We are beautiful.  Stay tuned...

The Joy Of Suffering

"I just want this to be over!"

I can't tell you how many times I've breathed these words under my breath, sobbed them in my shower, shouted them in the face of a friend, begged the Almighty- literally face down on the hardwood floor of my home, muttered them from the driver's seat of my car, sent them as a text to the masses, scratched them into the pages of my tattered red journal- and then the blue one...  It has become the anthem of my heart.

***

"I know you want to squirm to a place of comfort, away from the pain, but there just isn't a such a place or position- you just have to do this."  The nurse's gentle words of truth echo through my mind over and over, nearly every day of these last nine weeks.  The labor pains were too intense, she couldn't catch a breath, she couldn't cry, she couldn't speak, she couldn't move... until finally, mercifully, she could.  The intensity had subsided for a few minutes of rest.  The messy relief of cold washcloths, sips of ice water, words of encouragement, strokes of love... just enough mercy and comfort to suffice for the next round of suffering...

Labor is like that. There is hope in the peaceful moments between the suffering of excruciating pains.  There is renewed energy and re-focusing... A woman never forgets the suffering of her labor.  As she cradles and cherishes what it produces, she finds meaning and makes sense of the pain.

***

I could see no way out.  This was like one of those tangled metal puzzles you find at the check-out counter of touristy gift shops.  There HAS to be a way of solving it, but no amount of thinking it through would bring resolution.  

It was one of those situations that would free itself, accidentally almost, as I continued to wear a rut over the well worn pattern of thinking this week.  Then, the puzzle fell open. Simply put, I had a moment of clarity,  a brief sunrise of understanding.  The ever-so-gentle murder of a nightmare that I had been calling a dream.  

Because a million flashing stories and concepts and verses and analogies are firing relentlessly as I write, I'm positive I'm going to fumble tonight's blog.  I literally started writing myself notes to try to map it out.  I'm also convinced that with the clarity this week will come a few clouds of confusion, so I've got no choice but to fumble through this and get it on "paper".  Care to join me?

Beginning on October 7th, residents of North Pole, Alaska, began experiencing 163 solid days of absolutely no sun.  As of Tuesday, and for the next consecutive 11 days, they will experience a few hours of navy blue, pale, twilight. Navy blue is dark, but black is darker. Twilight brings hope of a seasonal change that no one has an "allergy" to!  Then, on March 18th, the actual bright, golden sun will peak over the horizon and stay there, within sight, for the full 24 hours of that day as it curves its horizontal path around the sky.  It will provide warmth, illumination, vitamin D and, ultimately, a very good reason to party!  As the days go by, it will gain strength as it gradually rises above the horizon, casting full light and warmth on the frozen tundra.

This week I had an actual sunrise of my own!  There have been navy blue twilight hours of understanding and acceptance, followed by the familiar darkness of confusion, anger, heartache, wrestling,  questioning, suffering... Like my friends in the northiest of north places, I know winter is not over until the golden sun pours a full dose of illumination on the subjects I've suffered through in my winter as it climbs higher, erasing shadows of doubt and distrust and fear.  I will experience my own version of the 189 sunset-less days of the arctic summer season.  Light and life and warmth and nutrients will turn the fallow season into a period of usefulness!  

***

By now you understand that "Suffering" is the word of the week. The topic is actually quite difficult to discuss with most people in detail.  The specific definitions are extremely personal and have no boundaries as it pertains to internal, external, spiritual, physical, mental, emotional and, for some because of love, vicarious suffering.   In fact, "suffering" tends to be redefined within an individual from season to season as life happens and circumstances change us.  

Instead of embracing the word and the reality of the weight that it carries, I have dodged it, scolded myself for feeling it, and measured it up next to the brands of affliction a handful of my friends are experiencing.  In short, I've wasted precious time assuming mine was of a lesser quality, therefore making it useless and invalid.

It turns out we all have a mandatory pass to the fire-pit of suffering before we are allowed to leave this life.  Mine is tailored to me.  It is lovingly and mercifully intended to be just heavy enough to show me my own strengths, weaknesses, and insufficiencies.  It is just harsh enough to soften me.  It is just long enough to take me to the very edge of me- where all that is left to cling to are the sharp edges of Trust, Faith and Promise as I hover over the abyss known as Despair.

A few of us will be consumed and destroyed by our tailor-made affliction.  Hoards of us will paste on a smile, adopt a coping mechanism, and answer life's "how-are-yous" with a "all's well" every time.  

However, there is a kind of person that will embrace the circumstance, allow the grief of it to wash over every cell of their being.  They will allow themselves to feel the terror and the anger and the hope and the heartache.  They will scream the unanswerable questions into the darkness and toil and sweat and strain to keep meaning alive while fighting with bloody hands, broken teeth and torn fingernails as they grasp for joy.

And now it hits me!   There it is. The barely audible word- whispering through the conversations and and scriptures while quietly flooding the recesses of my head and heart this week:

Joy.

If we are willing, if we daily choose to march ahead into the darkness- searching for the light of Truth and Hope and Love and ultimately, Faith in the One who is Faithful- then this ugly fight to survive our circumstance and make some sense of it that would be worth earning, in the end, produces Joy.

These scriptures, which I've collected over the last 500 days or more, finally make sense in a way that is not just a hope, but a practical reality:

"In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.  These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.  Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy,  for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 

~1 Peter 1:6-9

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.  Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.  Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.  And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.  To him be the power for ever and ever." ~1 Peter 5:6-11

"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 mercies 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.  It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord... no one is cast off by the Lord forever.  Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love."  

~Lamentations 3: 19-26, 31-32

And finally, I can offer to you an answer to one of the "whys" of my particular tailor-made suffering:

O-B-E-D-I-E-N-C-E

(Now, if you know it, sing it!  "Obedience is the very best way, to show that you believe..."  You're welcome, for getting that little vacation bible school, song of your youth, stuck in your head!)

Hebrews 5:8 tells us that through the suffering of Jesus, he learned obedience.  I used to think that everyone who was not being obedient, was being disobedient. Now I know that sometimes obedience is a learned behavior through the discipline of suffering. I also used to think that "discipline" was for naughty little boys and girls. Now I know that discipline is always just a tool for strengthening and training while building or revealing character.

Through the obedience of marching one-step-at-a-time through this pain, I am learning the unforgettable, real life-applicable principles of who Jesus is through His proven character as He relates to me.  That brings me joy.  And although I am under the realization that this, always-so-brief, "summer" season of light will eventually be followed by another twilight of a different kind, and that the labor of this affliction has yet to completely give birth to my greatest, cherish-able joy, I will leave you with 2 Corinthians 4:16-18- which sums it up best:

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary afflictions are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

(Time lapsed photo of the arctic sunrise by John Dunn)

(By-the-way, if you care to check out the arctic sun schedule, this is an interesting page.)

Also, if you care to hear it, this is the song that has lulled me to sleep on no less than 100 occasions this season.  Today, it's the background music of my day: