The Hiding Place

When I was nine or ten years old, there was a particularly fierce storm system blowing through our area. Tornadoes were a real possibility and after some discussion about the sturdiness of the trailer we lived in, my parents packed up the three of us kids and drove us all down the road to our church.

I remember feeling terrified as we left our home – I had just read Night of the Twisters (not the most comforting book for a skittish kid) and the storm seemed like it was out to get us. It was a relief to get to the safety of the church – I felt better as soon as my dad unlocked the doors and ushered all of us inside the bright foyer.

While my parents and some of my aunts and uncles were in the sanctuary, playing instruments and singing, I sat in the space beneath my Papa’s desk. My dad propped a mattress up against the open side of the desk, creating a little dark cave. I felt safe with my flashlight and a Sweet Valley High book…and ended up sleeping through the rest of the storm.

Nights like these happened fairly often while I was growing up -- when my dad pastored a church on the coast, he’d open up the building for any members who needed a place to stay whenever tropical storms or hurricanes came through. With the wind roaring outside, we’d gather in the fellowship hall and play board games, watch weather reports on a tiny static-filled black and white tv, and talk over the sound of the pouring rain. Even after the electricity went off and we were stifling hot, it felt better to be there in the four walls of the church.

These days, when bad weather arrives, I walk around my house, looking out of the windows every other second and listening to the local news. I don’t get to run to the church or anywhere else. I have to hold my ground and tell my kids that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

But, lately, I am afraid.

While I drink my coffee and feed Kailey her mixed fruit and rice cereal, I turn on the news. I watch for a few minutes, which is long enough to put a lump of dread in my stomach, and change the channel to one of my TiVo’d episodes of The West Wing.

It isn’t just the economy – there are the random shootings, the always-evolving crisis of the Middle East, the shaky health-care system. And we all have our personal worries – car accidents, deaths in our families, illnesses, debt, the safety of our kids.
With all of that in mind, who doesn’t feel like running away to some safe haven? The question is: is there a refuge? Where, in this world of unrest, can we find security?

Looking back, it wasn’t those church buildings that made me feel so safe. It was the time I had spent there, peaceful in the presence of God. It was the word of God, proclaimed from the pulpit, affirming God’s power and sovereignty. It was there, in that church, that I was certain of God’s close proximity. It was there that I was reminded again and again of His love and protection, of the way He always brings good to those who trust Him. When I was hiding beneath my grandfather’s desk, I was really hiding in the shadow of the Almighty, secure under His wings.

Fear is corrosive; it eats away at us, bit by bit, day by day. And fear is sneaking in through the news, through the movies we watch, through the forwards in our in-boxes. It invades our minds and highlights worries…and when it’s there, we get so confused and anxious that we forget to seek shelter. We forget that there is a place of peace in the middle of the chaos…we forget that we do have a place to run. We forget that our trust is in a loving Father. He wants to take the anxiety and the fear from our hearts…He wants us to know that the downward spin life seems to be taking does not shake Him. He is still in control. He is still our refuge.

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”……..”Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.” Psalm 91: 1-2, 14-16

Taking Time

"Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go out into a great big field all alone or into the deep, deep woods, and I'd look up into the sky--up--up--up--into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there was no end to its blueness. And then I'd just feel a prayer." ~Anne of Green Gables


Today, I feel like Anne. I am longing to go out into the middle of a big field spotted with wildflowers or the quiet of the woods that somehow feels sacred and just...be. I've often thought that nature, that the world in itself, is the perfect sanctuary...the perfect tabernacle. Every element reflects the nature of God Himself--what better place to find His presence?

I wish for a time without the noise of the news or the nagging knowledge that the floor needs mopping or the clock's insistence on ticking its way to the next scheduled errand...I wish to sit and breathe, to wait on God, to listen for nothing but His small voice. There's such value in waiting sometimes...but in our lives, there's no room for waiting. Even if we're forced to do so, like in a school pick-up line or a doctor's office, we're multi-tasking away...talking on cell phones, texting, paying bills, listening to the iPod...I'm the worst for this. If I get a spare minute, I actually feel guilty if I don't 'use' it.

The only down time I feel okay about is that special time at the end of every day, when I'm tucking the kids into bed...telling them stories, listening to them talk about their day, listening to their prayers. In those moments, I feel the best connection with them, because it's dark and there are no distractions--it's just us, just our little family, really communicating.

And, today, I'm thinking to myself--wouldn't I feel so much better if I took this time out for God? He deserves that kind of devotion and I need that kind of true communion with Him, so that I can keep my peace in the day to day course of life that is so unpredictable. Logistically, I can't run away to do this. I can't find a tiny chapel in the Alps empty of everything but an altar, I can't sit alone on a beach, I can't venture into the woods for hours of meditation and meandering.

But I can breathe in this gorgeous October weather as the kids play outside. I can put aside Fox News while I fold laundry and focus instead on His face...I can allow His presence to infiltrate all of the facets of my life. I just need to remember that my time is made up of what I put into it...so even if I can't run away from all obligation to sit at His feet, He will dwell within me. Nature reflects His glory, but our bodies and minds were created to contain His glory.

So while I'm hanging out here, longing to spend time with Him, He's right outside--waiting to be invited in.

Here's a reminder for me and for you--don't forget to open the door. Our great big field of peace can be in the front seat of the car, the den, or...you know. Just wherever we are.

Confessions

First, I'd like to say thanks for all of the birthday wishes I received here and for all of the wonderful book suggestions given in the fairy tale post...I am a year older, but at least I have lots of reading material to spice up the new year!

Currently, I need an attitude makeover. I'll share a little bit of my feelings here, because I know that other moms read this blog - and hopefully, you'll recognize where I'm coming from.

I hate it when I get this pinched-breath sort of feeling, because I am well aware of the blessings that actually overwhelm my life. And my children are the best and most beautiful of them all...but every now and then, especially when my last solo venture into the world to do something Christie-ish (like browsing in a bookstore) is at best a vague memory (early spring?), the routines get to me. Seriously - do you ever feel like if you have to pick up the pieces of those same puzzles one more time in a twenty four hour period that you might spontaneously combust? It's these cycles that ever hurtle forwards that can get to me - the laundry, the dishes, the crumbs that mysteriously end up all over the carpet (eight times a day! I don't understand how they sneak this stuff out of the kitchen!), the tussles between toddlers that invariably end in tears and the guilty party hiding under the bed...I feel guilty even writing this stuff down, but it's the truth. Every now and then, I want to run away. Just for a few hours. Just long enough to eat a snack without having to share it and maybe to drink something hot without worrying about small hands overturning the cup...just long enough to get through a chapter of something without an adventuresome two year old trying to yank the curtains down from their rods...if Neil didn't work such a consuming job, there might be more chances for me to have those hours...but he does, so there are these times when the sameness of every day begins to glaze over the joys therein...

Like today.

So maybe venting a little to you, blogosphere, will ease up some of the frustration. In hopes of reminding myself of what I should be saying instead of complaining, I'm including a classic prayer written by St. Thomas Aquinas that I have always loved. I'm also adding a wonderful painting by Craig Nelson, an artist I have just discovered. Definitely check him out.

"Grant, O Lord my God, that I may never fall away in success or in failure; that I may not be prideful in prosperity nor dejected in adversity. Let me rejoice only in what unites and sorrow only in what separates us. May I strive to please no one or fear to displease anyone except Yourself. May I seek always the things that are eternal and never those that are only temporal. May I shun any joy that is without You and never seek any that is beside You. O Lord, may I delight in any work I do for You and tire of any rest that is apart from You. My God, let me direct my heart towards You, and in my failings, always repent with a purpose of amendment."

From The Brains of Others

It's a breezy, bluesy day here in small-town America. We've done the errand running thing today, and I'm hoping the afternoon will be filled with peaceful house straightening, new flower planting (yay!), and at least a solid hour of novel writing.

I'm a bit tired, which I can blame directly on Neil...he brought home the first season of Lost last night and we both stayed up too late watching the first few episodes. I've never seen any of the show and wasn't sure that I'd like it...but it's just so intriguing. Three and a half (I fell asleep) episodes in, I want to know what happens to these people. And why there's a polar bear in the jungle. And what in the world that mysterious monstrous creature is...

Anyway, since my own brain seems to be full of randomness, I figure I'll share with you a few interesting quotes that have challenged me lately...

"And know this: whenever you find yourself writing a single word or phrase or page dutifully and with boredom, then leave it out. Something is wrong. It is dragged in. It isn't your true self talking." ~Brenda Ueland

Also from Brenda Ueland - "For in fiction, Chekhov said, you can pose a question (about poverty, morality, or whatever it is) but you must not answer it. As soon as you answer it, the readers know you are lying, ie forcing your characters to prove something."

And this interesting view of story in our lives...
"You're given a mythology in this life, the way you're given a body, a family, a country. You can reject it if you like - starve it, laugh in its face, run away into exile - but it's still your mythology. There's always the chance of redemption." ~Ariel Gore, from The Traveling Death and Resurrection Show

To elaborate just a bit on the quote on mythology...here's part of the expanded definition provided by Wikipedia: Myths are narratives about divine or heroic beings, arranged in a coherent system, passed down traditionally, and linked to the spiritual or religious life of a community, endorsed by rulers or priests. Once this link to the spiritual leadership of society is broken, they lose their mythological qualities and become folktales or fairy tales. In folkloristics, which is concerned with the study of both secular and sacred narratives, a myth also derives some of its power from being more than a simple "tale", by comprising an archetypical quality of "truth".

Looking at life in 'story' terms is appealing to me...maybe because my entire life, one way or another has been inundated in language, in the arcs of messages. Reading, obviously, brought me into this way of thinking...but I also attribute it to the years listening to my grandfathers and my dad preaching...the Bible, in itself, is a hugely taken for granted literary resource. And when ministers use it to convey some message - it's a powerful thing. Jesus Himself used parables to get ideas across to people - something in us, innately, responds to stories.
So do we each have our own mythology, our own story? I think so. Here are a few more quotes, taken from the pages of The Sacred Romance, that say exactly what I wish to say about all of this.

"We live in narrative, we live in story. Existence has a story shape to it. We have a beginning and an end, we have a plot, we have characters." ~Eugene Peterson

"Our loss of confidence in a larger story is the reason we demand instant gratification. We need a sense of being alive now, for now is all we have. Without a past that was planned for us and a future that waits for us, we are trapped in the present. There's not enough room for our souls in the present." ~John Eldridge, Brent Curtis

On scripture, Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen "...or do you see scripture as being a cosmic drama - creation, fall, redemption, future hope - dramatic narratives that you can apply to all areas of life?"

Frederick Buechner ~ "It is a world of magic and mystery, of deep darkness and flickering starlight. It is a world where terrible things happen and wonderful things, too. It is a world where goodness is pitted against evil, love against hate, order against chaos, in a great struggle where often it is hard to be sure who belongs to which side because appearances are endlessly deceptive. Yet for all its confusions and wildness, it is a world where the battle goes ultimately to the good, who live happily ever after, and where in the long run everybody, good and evil alike, becomes known by his true name...That is the fairy tale of the Gospel with, of course, one crucial difference from all other fairy tales, which is that the claim made for it is that it is true, that it not only happened once upon a time but has kept on happening ever since and is happening still."

And a final note by Brent Curtis and John Eldridge that explains the importance of sharing both our personal experiences and those stories simmering in the crock-pot of our brains...

"It becomes crucial that we become a generation of storytellers who are both recapturing the glory and joy of the Sacred Romance even as we tell each other our particular stories, so that we can help each other, through God's spirit, see His plan of redemption at work in us."

Sitting By An Open Window

If I were an artist, I'd paint the dogwood tree outside of my window.
It's in full bloom, the delicate white blossoms all curled up towards the sun on their thin branches...the dogwood is such a lady of a tree, isn't it? Lovely and elegant...but spunky, too - it takes a lot of courage for a tree to face the elements and keep on growing, year after year.
The world outside of my walls is a busy one right now...birds keep flying from tree to tree and it sounds as if they're in choir rehearsal at the moment (chirp-caw-tweetatweet-chirp)...a dog is barking somewhere down the street, and earlier I saw a yellow butterfly hovering over our too-long grass. One step outside and everywhere there's color, everywhere there are crickets jumping and birds soaring, everywhere there's life - and it's exuberant.
Spring makes me smile. It's for good reason that so much poetry is inspired by this season -
it's surprising and hopeful, tender and sometimes fierce, filled with so many varying elements that all add up to one eventual conclusion - new life.
God chooses to reveal His heart to me (and to you) just this simply, this clearly - through this backdrop He creates for our every day.


The sun has set since I've been sitting here. It's dark - and still, the birds are singing (the crickets have added to their musical mix). Still, there's the sweet fragrance of growing plants and still, the flurry of creatures large and small going about their errands.
And I am still in awe of His lovely, loving heart.


(A special hello to my aunt. It meant a lot to me to see that you had been here and taken the time to read some of my meandering thoughts! :) I love you!)

Forecast

Yesterday was all sunshine and eighty degree breezes, windows all opened wide and fans whirring, a million trips in and out of the house barefoot, my hands in potting soil and happy petunias, a chapter of Anne Lamott's Blue Shoe on the front porch steps in the seven-thirty dusky warmth after the dishes were done and another load of laundry was spinning...a bright day has its own energy that gets me project-busy around the house and eager to play tag with the boys...it makes me linger on the porch long after the moon is up and I think of chasing fireflies, long time gone adventures in the woods with my sister and cousins, and all the springtime/summer exploring that has yet to be done by my own kids.
Today I woke to rain cannon-balling onto the roof...a dim light glowing behind the closed blinds. When I got out of bed and opened the curtains and blinds, the rain was slowly falling - drops perching all shiny and jewel-y on the new blossoms of the dogwood right outside of the boys' bedroom window...I opened the window a bit over the kitchen sink and was met with a fresh whoosh of cool air - we've exchanged the 80's for the 50's overnight. I made a cup of coffee and stood at the door to watch the rain come down - I think we were due for a day like this, and I don't mind it. A rainy day brings a sense of quiet - things go just a bit more slowly and the house feels a bit cozier. It almost requires a hot cup of something and a book - an extra long story time with the kids or a few hours to watch Little Women and bake something yummy. It is extra permission to dream. A placid rainy day is to the world like a long soak in the tub is to me.
Two days, two energies. Our Father sends both, because He knows that we need both. The basics of earth need both...the animals and the trees and the flowers require sunshine and rain...I have to remember, as the days march on (and sometimes it feels they march right over me) that it's the same with circumstances. We'll have a burst of blessings and then, sometimes, immediately following the blessing is a blow from out of nowhere - a heart hurts, an argument bounces out of control, things just don't feel right. It's so easy to ask God why when this happens - why me? Did I do something wrong? Was I ungrateful for the good things you gave me? There's usually not an answer as to why...I've come to realize that the good and the bad come equally to everyone, and it's because we need the good and the bad - equally. If we want to grow- as people, as mothers, as friends, as writers - we need the sunshine and the rain. Sometimes we need a thunderstorm, a hurricane, or a drought.
God is there in the cloudburst and in the sunburn and in the perfect butterfly-edged springtime...He knows what you need and He longs to walk with you through it. Sometimes He just wants to show you that it's possible to skip through the rain and splash in the puddles - and how good it is to dance with Him beneath the cloudy sky.

Can Anyone Hear Me?

Neil brought home Blood Diamond last night, the Academy Award nominated film starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Djimon Hounsou, and Jennifer Connelly. For those of you who haven't seen the movie, it's based around the civil war in Sierra Leone back in 1999. The main thread of the plot concerns the diamond trade, which fueled the conflict.
This movie is not for the faint of heart. It's a clear picture of what was happening - villages massacred, children turned into rebel soldiers, men killing men....for money. For power. For no real reason at all.
This blog is called Whistling in the Dark, because the world is a dark place. In the eternal battle of good and evil, it sometimes feels like the evil is winning on this earth - and I truly believe that we, especially those of us who call ourselves Christians - are called to do what we can to spread hope. It is our calling to love...to keep up the melody of redemption that Christ began.
But sometimes I feel like I can do so little to make a real difference. Here I am, cozy in my house with my boys, with plenty of food and no real fear of stepping out onto my street. And in other parts of the world - people are being killed for just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In Sudan, for example, Darfurians are being systematically slaughtered by the government. Since 2003, over 400, 000 innocent people have been killed.
The thing is, that conflict isn't even over. I'm sure that we all studied the Holocaust growing up...those pictures of piles of shoes and bodies are ingrained in my head. I'm wondering what my kids are going to study by the time they're in fifth or sixth grade...what horrendous pictures and heart breaking stories will be in the text books that are taking place right now.
I know that bad things are bound to happen while we're here on earth. That's the consequence of actions that started with Lucifer waging war in Heaven and continuing it with mankind - he wants to drive this wedge between man and God, and being far from the heart of God naturally results in the disaster that is cruelty and hate.
But it terrifies me - the thought that one human being can be so infiltrated with darkness that he will simply do away with another human being as if they are nothing more than trash to be swept out of the way.
I think it is our duty, wherever people are hurting - whether it's in our town or state or Sudan - to reach out however we can. Jesus said that we will be known as His disciples because of our love for each other. And I'm sure that we can all agree that the love of Christ is a love of action - He didn't just talk about mending the broken. He did it.
So how do I help? I'm not sure. I will, of course, keep on writing my little stories in hope that they'll communicate some message of hope and love to those who happen to read them (because hope is important for all of us, no matter where we live or the problems we face)...but as far as these larger disasters...genocide, the slave trade (which still exists), oppression...how do I make a difference? Can I make a difference? When I think about all of this, it's so overwhelming - and I can watch a movie like Blood Diamond, which makes my heart break - and try to forget about it...or I can figure out how to get involved. There's peace now in Sierra Leone...but not without the effort of people who cared.
I'd love to hear some ideas. I've come up with some links to sites concerning these issues, which I'll list below.
You know, God cared so much about our pain that He sent His Son to bear it for us - how can I, then, neglect to show compassion?

http://www.genocideintervention.net/index.php
http://www.ushmm.org/conscience/
http://www.notforsalecampaign.org/

The Original Romantic

Isn't it true that the weather and nature can truly affect your mood? All of the studies showing that depression can be related, in some areas, to a lack of sunshine fascinate me...and I know that, for me, a warm breeze and the scent of fresh foliage can do a lot to improve my outlook on life. It's particularly interesting when you consider the fact that all of that outdoorsy stuff is the detailed handiwork of God meant to showcase His presence and personality. Our physical health can depend on being inundated in His physical works...just like our spiritual and mental health can depend on being inundated in His words and in His spirit.


Today God surprised me with the simplest hint of spring.The morning was a long one - I dragged the kids on a shopping trip that ended, after several stores, at Food Lion for grocery buying. They were as good as could be expected, but we were all cranky and exhausted by the time we drove into our driveway. I've had a lot weighing on my mind in general, lately, so the triple-threat of irritation wasn't the best turn of events. But when I stepped out of the SUV to start the process of hauling in toilet paper, food, cleaning supplies, small humans, and the inevitable fast-food paraphernalia, the first thing I noticed was tiny purple wildflowers spread out all over my front yard. In the long neglected flower beds, by the mail box, lining the driveway - little spots of lavender everywhere.I immediately felt rejuvenated and all of the crankiness slipped away...I guess flowers can just do that for a girl, no matter how they show up...but especially when they're hand delivered by God.

Knock-Knock, Who's There?

Noah's Ark! Click www.worldviewweekend.com read the article about an expedition finding what appears to be chunks of the ark, as well as evidence of pottery and other such artifacts.
Personally, I really hope this pans out. Nothing annoys me more than hearing people say that the Bible is mythical and this would be one more slice of evidence that the Bible is HISTORY that HAPPENED.
Even more than that point, I just have an interest in the ark and the backstory there that we can only imagine (which I did in my first novel, Earth Undone. Um, no need to rush over to Amazon to buy it. It's currently unpublished. :) But if that ever changes, feel free to do the rushing and buying!).
John Kasich did a special report on this last Saturday night on Fox News, which I missed. I'm hoping to see more about this in the near future....I'll keep you updated!

When There Are No Easy Answers

Several people in my life are facing difficult circumstances right now - the kind that causes you to wake in the middle of the night second guessing God and feeling like the warmth of your daily, happy life has been stripped away - and appropriate for today's downpour of rain - your entire body has been doused with icy water. I can't think of the right words to say or the big picture - but this song sung by Natalie Grant (written by someone else whose name escapes me) feels fitting.

Held

Two months is too little

they let him go, they had no sudden healing

To think that providence would take a child

from his mother while she prays is appalling-

Who told us we'd be rescued,

what has changed and why should we be saved

from nightmares?

We're asking why this happens

to us who have died to live

It's unfair

This is what it means

to be held, how it feels

when the sacred is torn from your life

and you survive

This is what it is

to be loved and to know

that the promise was

when everything fell,

we'd be held

This hand is bitterness

We wanna' taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow

The wise hand opens slowly

to lilies of the valley

and tomorrow

If hope is born of suffering,

if this is only the beginning

can we not wait for one hour,

watching for our Savior -

This is what it means to be held,

how it feels when the sacred is torn from your life

and you survive

This is what it is

to be loved and to know

that the promise was

when everything fell,

we'd be held....

Named

When I was about twelve years old and at the height of my childhood akwardness (picture permed hair/big bangs/glasses/braces), I had this fuzzy image of the person I wanted to grow up to be. I wanted to be sophisticated, charming, stunningly intelligent. And, of course, beautiful just like Kelly from Saved by the Bell. Because, hello - then some Zack-like boy would fall in love with me and we'd live happily ever after in Paris.
As I grew older - sixteen, seventeen -, I still wanted to be all of those things. I just added in some other elements - I wanted to be successful, maybe famous, well traveled, and loving. Oh, and beautiful like Jennifer Aniston or Julia Roberts or Nicole Kidman. After all, wouldn't that be the key to finding someone who would love me and even better, really understand me? (and if that person was Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, I'd be okay with it. :) )
In college, the list got longer. I had this idea that I'd like to be political, well versed in all literature, classical music, art. I wanted my world to be filled with books and music and beauty. And that longing that we all have for being understood grew. I actually found what I had thought was going to be a long time coming - love...but still, there was this nagging feeling that I could be better and different, that there was an intimate communion missing. I still floundered to pin down who I'd grow up to become.
Marriage and motherhood and a few more defining years have settled some of this searching - the things most important have come to the surface. Even more, I want my house filled with music and books and love. I've accepted that I'll never be Angelina Jolie (though my husband probably has not) and if I'm never on CNN lecturing for human rights - well, I'll get my opinions across one way or another, in God's specific timing.
I say all of this to say this: we all struggle to define ourselves, to figure out the woman or man that God intended us to be. And we all long to be known - truly known and understood as we are, even if we can't really see ourselves anymore or if those around us don't seem to see us.
I know that I unfairly lay this burden on those in my life, wishing they would 'name' me, to validate who I am.
The truth is - the amazing, hopeful, get me through dry spots and frustrating situations truth- is that the one who intimately understands me and loves me anyway is the same one who tenderly created me to begin with. And no matter how my images of myself change or how my life's requirements stick me in seemingly unbending roles, God still recognizes all of that dream stuff within me. He puts out steps so that little by little, as much as I can on this earth, I'll attain some portion of my desires, and be surrounded by friends that do see beyond the surface of my actions.
And in the life after this one - the life that's going to be so real - I will be exactly and perfectly who I need to be. There will be no more hesitation or wishes for change or cravings to wake up as someone else. He will give me the name that eternally answers the soul's yearning and aching. It will be the most intimate of knowledge - a sweet communion when He recognizes me as being changed into the glory of an eternal body, and still - forever - me. Just a new me, wholly the woman He has always intended.
Which totally beats even happily ever after in Paris.

"I will also give him a white stone, and on the stone a new name is inscribed that no one knows except the one who receives it." Rev. 1:17

appropriate quote

"Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue."
~Eugene O'Neill

Mr. Clean

Sean discovered over this past weekend the joy of writing on the walls. When I took the stray crayon away from him, he proceeded to pick up a toy of some sort and pretend it was a crayon. Thus creating scuff marks all over the place. So, I picked up a magic eraser made by Mr. Clean. Thinking, yeah right. No way it's as easy as the back of the box advertises. But sure enough, some water and a few swipes later, the damage had been repaired.


What I really, really wish is that someone could invent a magic eraser for the heart. I've been trying to sort out why it is that letting go of things is the most difficult feat we must master. Is time the ultimate healer, really? When touched, those briars clinging to my emotions still sting just as much now as when they were first stumbled into. When it comes to the hurtful things said to us or done to us by the people we love the most, is there truly a time when it doesn't hurt anymore or is the healing rather the ability to endure those remembrances and keep moving forward? Because there are certain things that - no matter what - will always, always hurt me. Will they always be gut-wrenching?
What I need to know is how to not let those things hinder who I am and the relationship that I have now. What is God's role in this? To help us deal with the pain or to take it away completely? Is it my own static cling that stops him from making it disappear?

My little journey is making progress, I think. If only to let me see myself honestly.
I see that to get anywhere I must surrender all things. Not just the convienent things, but also those that I would probably like to keep. Those that I justify.

I want to want to be like Christ. Step one, right?

Late Fragment

by Raymond Carver

And did you get what

you wanted from this life even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

Pilgrim's Progress

The last few weeks have been a wasteland of medicines and fevers and tissues and an intense longing to lie down. Always. And that means babies and me. We're on the upside now. At last. Breathing through my nose has ceased to be a constant struggle and the coughing only comes at the inconvienent times. Such as answering the phone, trying to sleep, or rocking a child to sleep. Or eating. Or now. Ok, so I still have a cough. But that's better than wishing to rip my head off.

So. I had a nice long talk with myself last night. It's no secret that I've been an emotional weeble-wobble over the last few months...year....years....whatever. It's just been getting worse, though - the inner angst of frustration, anger, weird sadness. It's just too easy for me to lose the happy spin on things. So last night I really said, ok. What's up with this? Where's that happy, peaceful, annoyingly optimistic girl that I used to be??
Here's what I figured out.
I realize that a lot of unexpected things have whirlwinded through my life in the past 3 years. I also know that my life has never been perfect. Though on a different emotional scale than the new stuff, I still had to deal with things....but here's how I dealt with it. I had a real, tangible relationship with God. And of course, I have a nodding acquaintance with Him now but it's not the same. I pray with the kids and whisper those 'please please help me' prayers through the day. And I think about God-stuff, especially when I write. But back then...I could unload my heart. I could write out prayers or sit in my bed and talk to Him. Like crying, ranting, telling Him what hurt talks. And I read that Bible. And used it. There was a real peace there - there was strength for the taking - and I took it. I truly experienced the way that God can sustain even through crap. There's that inner peace beyond understanding. It is totally possible for a circumstance to suck and yet be okay about it. It's the attitude towards the circumstance that matters.
I'm not sure when I lost that knowledge. Or at least stopped making it a part of my life. Probably about the same time that I started crossing the line of my standards in college and was plagued with a little monster named Shame. And since then...there have been things to happen that I can't change. Circumstances beyond my control that affect everything about me. And I haven't been able to deal with it because I've been unable to use the source of help that is RIGHT THERE.

I don't have a real, unchanging joy because I've been treating it like...like...like vegetables. Like I eat veggies every day because they're pretty good and I know I should. But I'm not head over heels for carrots. God-Time should be like chocolate, fudgy, warm, whip cream topped yum and a huge perfectly flavored French Vanilla coffee. In a bubble bath. With candles. And a fantastic book.
Basically, the thing I long for always.

So this is the time. The time to reacquaint myself with the God that I claim to live for and yet keep in the back of my life. It's time for a pilgrimage of sorts. I'm claiming this month as the month to concentrate on all of this.
And quite likely...quite possibly, get the most important part of myself back. Because, as it's been said a million quadrillion times, we are most ourselves when in tune with the one who made us who we are.

And here's something that I thought was funny. Euguenia Price was talking about how we expect God to fulfill our desires that we have come up with in our own twisted, not God focused ways...

She says: "God will not satisfy your neurotic longings.
He would be a fiend if He did."

But rather He fulfills like this...."For it pleased the Father that in Him should all fullness dwell..."

He is enough. And in Him we find the other things that are good and pure and beneficial for us happening...we find our real dreams realized.

I WANT THAT.

I Am

I Am by Ginny Owens

"No, Lord," he said/"You've got the wrong guy./Simple conversation gets me tongue-tied/And you're telling me to speak with a maniac king/I wonder if I've lost my mind?"/"And besides, I am weak/Don't you want someone strong to lead them out of Egypt/When they've been there so long/And anyway they won't believe You ever spoke to me..."/"That's not your problem," God replied/And the rest is history/Chorus: "There's a bigger picture you can't see,You don't have to change the world, just trust in Me/I am your Creator, I am working out My plan/And through you, I will show them I am."/"Now, Lord, are You sure?/He's just a shepherd boy./Too small for battle gear, with a giant to destroy?/What on earth can he do with five stones and a sling?"/"It's not your problem," God replied/"Cause I can do anything!"

I am the first, I am the last/I am the present and the past/I am tomorrow and today/I am the only way

"Great Lord," she said/"I'm just a simple girl./You say that I will bring your Son into the world?/How can I understand this thing You're gonna do?"/

"That's not your problem," God replied-

There's a bigger picture you can't see, You don't have to change the world, just trust in Me.

I am your Creator, I am working out My plan,

And through you, I will show them I am.