in love

Love is calmly telling your child for the tenth time to brush their teeth.

Love is holding the door open for someone who’s hands are full.

Love means that when your friend has the family you always wanted, you don’t resent them for it.

Love means not going to your neighbour and saying “Look at my life and my friends and isn’t it the best. Look at what I have done with my life”.

Love means you don’t dig your heels in when you are in an argument. You understand that the person across from you is more important than the issue.

Imago Dei

Love means you do not speak ill of them to a crowd, or to one.

Love means you are out for them. You die every day so that they come first.

Love means you count to 10. And then you count to 10 again. Because for this person you love, do you spew lava?

Love can remember the hurts but that doesn’t mean you can launch those hurts at their face like some rancid food fight.

Dona nobis pacem

Love is when you fight back the lord of darkness; he will not reign in your life. 

Love is when you sing the praises of Immanuel.

Always, it shields.

Always, it believes.

Always, it holds to light.

Always, it lasts over and above all trials. It continues on and on.. and on.

Hark! Exalt! Hallelujah! 

Love never sleeps. It never stumbles. It always wins the race. Love Succeeds.

If I spout the word of the Lord but don’t follow it up with Love, I break the ears of those I seek to bring to Him. If I have been blessed with wisdom, with unending, powerful, mountain-moving faith, with words to understand His ways, and yet still.. no Love, then what is the use of me.

One day, One Day! He will bring it all! We will no longer have to strive, to yearn, to battle, to weep, to lay it all down. Because He will pick us up and we will fall on our faces in His presence. And our Hope will be revealed and we will have everlasting Peace and we will forever shout with Joy because He.. HE is Love perfected and we will be perfected because of Him.

Until then good Christian;

Hold fast to your Hope, because from hope springs His Peace and when we live in His Peace we burst forth in His Joy and when our Joy bursts forth it plays out in His Love. How can it not? 

“For this very reason, I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted in LOVE, may have power together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” *

Amen

in joy

Generations of darkness.

No hope. No peace.

No Joy.

Then an angel surprises a young girl and another admonishes her betrothed.

And a barren one is given fruit, and her husband it struck silent with disbelief.

Do we dare to hope?

Can we really have peace?

Might we burst with joy?

He comes to us from heaven, leaving Glory to pull us from the mire.

See Him swaddled and squirming in a feed trough. 

Blinking squinty, dark eyes, trying to see this broken world through our eyes.

There is Hope!

The one born new has come to make all things new.

Look at His fingers peeking out over the cloths; all wrinkled, they stretch and grab at the wrappings.

His mouth twists to open, His teeth-less gums appear and His face squishes up as He cries. 

Crying for warmth, for comfort, for milk, for mom.

This world is too big for a little babe to fix.

And yet, those wrinkly fingers mix spit with mud to heal a blind man. 

That mouth tells of the love and forgiveness of God.

The cloth wrapped around Him contains His power - enough to heal the bleeding woman.

Oh, yes! Praise Him! There will be Peace!

What an a mazing sight to behold.

Far across the lands, Wisemen seek Him. They see a new star; a heavenly body. How can they ignore it?

How can we ignore Him?

Over the hills, shepherds are startled as one, then many angels; multitudes, sing and shout for Joy at the birth of the King.

JOY!

There is Joy to be found. Enough for all to hold in their hearts. 

The joy of the Lord, available to everyone who comes to adore Him, to thank Him, to receive Him. 

To all who give Him room.

Look, Look at this child! 

He is God!

He is with us!

He is light!

He is Hope!

He is Peace!

He is JOY!

in peace

He had had a particularly exhausting day and was already crashed on the couch at 3:30. I sat with him for a bit but his brothers started crawling over us so we went upstairs to his bed for some quiet mommy time, and it worked. 

“You look so tired love” I quieted as I ran my hand over his hair and down his cheek, cupping it for a moment.

“Ya, I am”

Was it a rough day?”

“No, just tired” 

We began talking about a few things and I don’t know how we got to the subject of WW2 but there it was.

“Why did there have to be world wars?”, he asked.

So I talked about Hitler and Germany, without saying those names and how he just wanted to take over the world.

“That’s greedy!” he spoke with certainty

“Yes” I agreed, “It is” and went on, “So he used his armies to take over many countries and the other countries in the world knew this was wrong so they worked together to fight back, and they won”

“But why did he even start it?”

“Because some people don't know Jesus and so they don’t understand peace, they don’t choose peace” I did my best to explain

“I want peace!!” He proclaimed.

“I know love” and I was holding back the weeps, “I do too”

What is this “peace” you speak of? I don’t understand. My walk with Him is not peaceful. It is certainly not a stroll through pleasant pastures all the time. I am striving to dig in with Him and my life is anything but peaceful. I have wrestled with peace this week. As soon as I began to ponder it, roll it around in my head and heart. As soon as I laid my thoughts to it, I was anything but at peace. And the more I searched it out, the farther it felt to me.

I felt like Jacob, trying to wrestle this to the ground and yet I could not subdue it, and so every day I prayed to God “I am not letting go of this, bless me with your peace, your understanding” I was weepy all week, whenever peace became the focus - the umbrella over the current actions, my heart would break a little more that I was not feeling His coveted peace in that moment.

The angels; bold, bright, harkening angels came to exalt “Peace on Earth!”

They are wild and sweet words; terrifying and joyous, 

“Do not imagine that I came to bring peace to the earth! I came not to bring peace, but a sword. ‘I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter in law against her mother in law. Your enemies will be right in your own household’ “(Matt 10:34-35)

And we see the wars across the earth and children eating garbage and dodging chlorine bombs and here we tear each other up over the internet and battle pipelines and draw political lines and shout at race debates and wring our hands because there is no peace on earth.

Where is the peace?! Our Prince of Peace did not come to bring peace? What is this puzzle?

I believe we want to sing the peace of Christ come but, hate silences our song and we wallow in despair because we have forgotten. We have forgotten who it is all for. We don’t live for ourselves, we live for Him!

“You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you”(Isa 26:3)

We are all asleep, we are in the dark and we are asleep. And so when you bring the light and rouse the sleeping, is it peaceful?

He brings his light and we see the filth and chaos we are living in and we are at war with ourselves and rebelling against him but, if we choose his life we end up at war with the world. There is no deep abiding true and lasting “peace on earth” until he returns. He left his Holy Spirit here on earth until his work is done but, who are the workers? Where are they? what are they doing with his spirit? Are they listening? Are they watching for places to take peace - to BE peace? Or are they trying to store up God’s grace and peace for themselves? And I am sobbing at the thought of Jesus, our redeemer, saviour, champion, fighter, friend, brother, interceder, and all that he has already done for us and yet we continue to back burner him, as if He wasn’t really 100% man and 100% God, and didn’t really perform miracles, and never actually was nailed through his hands and feet and died and rose again. We can not even grasp the concept of peace with out first holding to hope. It is Hope that brings us to the threshold of Peace.

How pitiful my sacrifice is in comparison to His. How unworthy I am, how peace-less I feel. I fail in my efforts to live up to him and yet, and yet as I flit and flop and flail about in my efforts I reach back to my hope. I grasp for it.. where is it? I look around me, above me and beneath me and there it is. Going down, way down, it is weighted in the ground. An anchor. And I know it will hold and. And I am breathing in Shalom. It is so beautiful. Shalom; harmony, wholeness, completeness. Because in Shalom there is peace and in Shalom it is paid for and in Shalom there is safety and Shalom is shared and Shalom is a movement. And I have come to understand that I have been caught up on a word that doesn’t do justice to all Christ has done for me, and all that he requires I do for him. Peace only means the absence of war. Shalom brings the wholeness of Christ and passes it on.

I am swimming in the unrest of Zacharias and unwavering hope of Simeon, and taking them as Shalom, a blessing of the complete love of Christ. Zacharias, after months of being struck unable to speak because of his lack of faith is finally given words and his tongue back and what burst forth from his mouth is nothing but praise and proclamation and he is undoubtedly forever changed. 

“And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High: for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death to guide our feet into the path of peace.”(Luke 1:76-79)

And Simeon who after a lifetime and more of waiting on the promises of the Lord is finally released,

“Simeon took him (Jesus) in his arms saying: “Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for the revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Isreal”(Luke 2:28-32)

These two servants, like Jacob, like me held tight to the Lord. I will not let go of you until you bless me. You have promised and I am holding on to Hope, from there I will see peace.

I believe none of us can truly encounter God and not be left unchanged.

This is my distinction of peace; It is an anchored unrest. We wrestle for peace and he claims us and names us and gives us a Holy unrest.. And it is a dichotomy but, there is the peace. It can only come from Him, we can not create peace on our own, like women in childbirth we writhe in pain but give birth to wind, we do not bring salvation or peace to the earth, he does, and he has left us to be his peace bearers until his return. It is our Hope that leads to his Peace and it all comes from Him.

How will you bear His Peace?

Shalom..

in Hope

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned” Isa 9:2

Have they seen it? Have they really?

“The ox knows his master, the donkey, his owner’s manager, but Israel does not know, my people do not understand.”  Isa 1:3

Oh how empty, how sorrowful, how lost. How, hopeless.

The people of Israel had been walking in darkness for 400 years. 400 years not a word was spoken to them by God, no prophet, no Moses, no Elijah, not even a Joseph to save them form famine or a Noah to mock. Silence. Quiet. Darkness. The priests must have been beside themselves. For generations upon generations upon generations the Lord was silent. 

When you walk in the dark for so long you get used to it. You rely on other senses, you make your way, you manage in your life. You get proud. 

Darkness - the carrier of both evil and ignorance.

“Seek not in courts, nor palaces,

Nor royal curtains draw;

But search the stable, see your God,

Extended on the straw”

In the dark of a stable, the babe of light is born. And we are to hope!

We are to Hope? In a baby? A feeble human? 

But God…

Who wouldn’t let Moses see his face

Who came in fire - and smoke

And was silent.

How do we hope in a baby?

We have been getting along just fine without Hope.

“When men tell you to consult mediums and spiritists, who whisper and mutter, should not a people inquire of their God? Why consult the dead on behalf of the living? To the law and to the testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, they have no light of dawn” Isa 8:19-20

Or..

Our celebrities take all our attention, our “teachers” have better words for us than the Lord’s. We will let our knowledge from them. They tickle our ears. Our Hope is in them. They require nothing of us.

Of course we see no Hope in a baby. We are Lord of our lives. We seek no King to reign over our hearts. Over every part of our hearts. We are our own Herod.

“Oh yes, let me see this baby. Let me add my congratulations and watch as I do with everything else, until I get bored. Then I will destroy you with my pride.”

Yes, yes.. there is our Hope.

Yet,

“FOR TO US A CHILD IS BORN!”

How have we forgotten?!

Where is our minds’ heart?

“TO US A SON IS GIVEN”

Yes of course. A Son. The Son.

The Hope that brought Moses to the promised land, the Light that he was not permitted to bear witness to has been born into a child.

This is no fairy tale,

No “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..”. No, “Once upon a time..” 

This is the Light of the world, come to our lives. He is our Hope. 

“THE GOVERNMENT WILL BE ON HIS SHOULDERS”

Yes! Please God, take over the government!

“AND HE WILL BE CALLED WONDERFUL COUNSELLOR MIGHTY GOD EVERLASTING FATHER!”

Do you want to know why?

Because HE was there in the beginning. 

HE IS THE WORD MADE INTO FLESH

 and he came to live with us

IMMANUEL

IMMANUEL

IMMANUEL!!

HE is with us. 

Resides IN us,

Walks WITH us,

Suffered FOR us,

Intercedes on OUR behalf.

Because we can’t do it on our own. Nobody can truly see in the dark. The darkness deceives, the darkness leads us to doubt, to abandon all Hope.

Do you see it? Do you see the light? Does it make tears come out of your eyes? It will wipe those away. Does it cause you to fall to your knees? It will cup your face so you can look into it. The Light is no longer denied us. We can bear witness to it. Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice all you people. Our Hope is restored! The LIGHT has come! 

REJOICE!

beauty

I’m on the hunt for beauty. 

Have you come across any lately? Has your breath been stolen by real beauty these days? 

I’m not talking about fashion industry standards. 

I’m talking about real. Deep. Dirty. Beauty. 

Vernix stuck to a newborn beauty.

Beauty that makes your soul sing. Makes tears leak out of your eyes.

Beauty that inspires you in your race of life, helps you dig deep.

I have seen too much ugly these last few months. The words used on the internet lately are tearing me down. And none of it has even been directed at me. But our human condition is such that we default to words that destroy. I am constantly on our children about using words that build up. Encouraging words, loving words, words that help us win, that help us run the race.

Whenever they use tear down words we talk about how it made us feel. Not just to the receiver but to the giver of those words as well. 

The harsh reality we never consider is that the words we use to destroy someone else destroy us too.

Maybe this is why I have been mourning. I have been living in sorrow these last few weeks with no name for why. An intense conversation with a treasured friend produced no answers other than “I am not doing well and I don’t know why” 

I came home from my vacation to my hometown feeling restored. I had a deep peace that I was just swimming in. It was glorious. But within weeks it was gone. And I couldn’t place why.

So I have been on the search for answers. I have been imploring the Lord to help me find the truth behind the dark I have been living in. And instead of right out saying “the trouble is _____”  He has led me to beauty. 

It is why I dove head deep into baking this last week. I can control this. I have permission to create beauty with flour, sugar, butter, eggs and an oven. 

This is why I have been making love to my husband, looking for colour in the dreary rain, holding my children just a little longer. I am singing with more abandon, serving with more gratitude and praying with more urgency.

And what has the Lord said to me?

“you have come to me, and I have shown you the need for beauty - the need for me”

What had I been doing?

I was still coming to him, but I wasn’t searching him. I wasn’t living with urgency, as if my life depended on it. I was allowing distractions to keep my focus, instead of giving my focus to Jesus. 

I am looking for where grace is found. I believe this will be my life’s prayer from now on. Lord, show me where your grace is found. And I see it.

When my son spends the morning playing with trains in nothing but a pyjama shirt because he’s still learning the ropes of the toilet. 

When I’m grumbling about making supper again but turn to see my husband home early and reading to our boys.

When my family has health struggles and I am too far away to help, to be there for them, but then I remember HE is everywhere and they were His before they were mine. 

I look at Brad, and while we have had many challenges the last few years I am still so grateful that they were with him. That we have built a trust and while I still may fail him, he forgives and loves me again and again. There is grace in the challenges. There is forgiveness in failings. That is the beauty. We need to seek it out, with urgency. 

We cannot focus on the ugly, we have to hold the gates of our hearts closed to it entering and stealing our peace. When we witness the ugly coming near we need to speak truth and beauty against it.

I am seeking beauty. I am seeking Christ. My life depends on it. 

Psalm 150

only

This has been the one and only time I will do the write 31 days challenge. It was hard, it was frustrating, it was challenging and I was not able to keep up; as evidenced by the several times I did multiple postings in one day and even this post coming the day after the end, and I am scratching it together. 

We are in November! I can’t believe it and Christmas, of course, is right around the corner. 

Like - immediately.

I am already Christmas shopping as I do it all only online now and have to get packages here to put together into packages for elsewhere. I’m planning Christmas baking and today, I am going to watch a Christmas cartoon of some sort. Halloween is not my favourite and it was exhausting. The weather has taken a decided chill here as the nearby mountains are getting their early dustings of snow. We burned in our wood stove through the night for the first time last night this fall and I am settling into cozy-ness. Christmas only comes once a year and I want to make sure I get my fill of it. 

So now it is back to semi-regular postings. And by semi-regular, I mean, when I can get more than two minutes to myself with 3 kids climbing on me. 

Thank you for following along on this exercise/journey. Thank you for your thoughts.

cut

Something I have been thinking a lot about lately is how we don’t do enough pruning in our lives. I guess I shouldn’t speak for you. I don’t do enough pruning in my life. I have spent a considerable amount of my life carrying around things, baggage, hurt, misconceptions, dead branches that have no place in my life and are dragging me down. But I just can’t seem to let go. These days though, I am ready for the big prune. I need the Lord to do his work on my heart. The biggest branch that needs to be cut for me right now is all the doctrine and wrong theology I have held on to. It is all weighing me down. Much of this has come from some books I have read over the last few years and my time on the internet. It has held a mirror, in some cases, up to me. In other instances it has opened my eyes to the lives and experiences of others. And the things that are getting in the way of my understanding and love and service to Christ must go. And I am trusting on Him to know which branch needs to be cut and I’m trusting myself to let go of that branch knowing that I am still remaining in Him.

date

I can’t with this writing 31 days. It is sooo much harder than I thought it would be and it’s because I can’t get 5 minutes every day to write something. And it actually takes longer than 5 minutes to do this because you have to take some time to ponder the word and it’s implications. I’m sitting here on Sunday morning slogging out what should have been yesterday’s post because yesterday was filled with real life. And now I’m looking at the date on the calendar and I can't believe we are at the end of October. Wasn't it just March? Weren’t we just bouncing into spring and out of the depress of a long winter? Most of my days blend into each other. I sometimes am not even aware of the date of the day I’m on. But this month I have been very aware. Two birthdays in our house plus thanksgiving and now halloween. And with all the busyness of the month I am ready for November. I like getting closer to Christmas. I like sitting still and contemplating the peace of Christ. The birth of him, the first days of his life on earth. The date we celebrate his birthday is wrong. No body knows for sure when he was born. And I believe that was on purpose. Well, this was all over the place wasn’t it. A little like the noise in my head right now. 

eat

What do you fill your soul with?

What do you feast on?

What does your spirit eat?

“Taste and see that the Lord is good”*

He is everything. 

He is alpha and omega.

Beginning and end.

In him all things were made, there is nothing that has been made that was not made through him.

He is the word, and became flesh, and dwelled among us.

And we broke bread and ate, and we poured wine and drank.

And his body broke and his blood shed,

And we feast on the lamb without considering the cost.

Where do you find nourishment?

How do you stay your hunger?

Does your thirst ever quench?

His grace is like the manna that fell and couldn’t be stored.

Every day new mercies.

He is the living water.

What are you hungry for?

What are you thirsty for?

Are you ever filled?

bouquet

My wedding bouquet is long dead. In fact, it was dead the day I married. Cut flowers are dead flowers and we hold them for their last bit of glory. I love a good bouquet, but I have always found it a little odd too. That we have to destroy something to enjoy it seems all a little too macabre. Yet there is a story of redemption in death. We are to die to self and then we are made new. Humans have a fascination with death don't we? It is the one realm we can not see. We know it exists yet we have no idea what lies beyond the grey veil. As followers of The Way, we hopefully look to death as the threshold to seeing our saviour face to face - and falling on our faces in praise. Yet we don't know for certain what it will all look like. We can’t even tell you where heaven is. 

Because that is not our concern, or it shouldn't be, We are but a wisp of time here on earth. From the moment we are conceived we are on the slow walk to death. Our bouquet does not last forever. We can choose what it will look like, we can choose what fragrance we wish to emit. But inevitably time will come to become compost. 

confront

Potty training is no joke. I know this because I’m on my third go ‘round and I have found nothing, nothing to laugh about. There is no hilarity in mid-night bed wets, nor in mid-day crap pants. It is a dire situation when you publicly express that you entertained the idea of outsourcing one of your parental responsibilities only to be met with laughter online. Every time they don’t do what you have talked about them endlessly to do you are confronted with failure. And it isn’t them that has failed, it is you. When they are adults and you’ve done all you can within your realm of legal responsibility in accordance with their age and they STILL make stupid decisions then you can wash your hands. But a 2, 3, 4 year old is really still incapable of having fully developed thought, reasoning, decision making. And every time they poop on the floor or pee on the Lego that reality is thrown in your face. I historically don’t like confrontation. I habitually run from it, the notion of confronting challenges gives me emotional hives. But here I stand, daily, daily confronted with the reality that the outcome of parenting is pretty much out of our control. I mean, we can do our best and lay down the rules and enforce them, but we are still people of free will and if my kid decides that farting at the dinner table is a good idea no matter how many times I’ve told him otherwise then I have to accept the reality that I do not have the ability to magically make their poop come out when I want it to. And that is something I never thought I’d be confronted with.

sign

“Lord, send me a sign”

I used to pray this, that was back when I was young and stupid and immature. It was as if I thought that I could command God to perform magic tricks. Flash me this, do that, confirm for me this. It is a request for safety, that’s all. It is a telling sign from us that we don't really truly trust Him. We wan’t control, we want the decision of wether or not to turn at the sign. Go forward, go back, turn left, turn right. There was a time when those directional decisions were cut and dried for me. Easy answers to all life’s problems. The reality is that people make life hard, because the reality is we are all seeking restoration. And we want it quickly and we want it neat and tidy, wrapped up in pretty paper and a fancy bow like some glittering package under the Christmas tree. The reality is that restoration is messy, it is dirty, it is after birth in the straw, it is over turned tables, it is torn skin and shed blood. There is nothing neat and tidy about our faith and our Saviour. He is bold, and challenging, and loving, and admonishing. He baptizes you in fire to purify you. He asks you to take part in his body, his blood. He loves the prostitute and criticizes the religious. He warned us that the world would hate us because of him, but commanded us to love the world anyways. We try to wrap him in a bow, but he was spread out on a bloody cross. That is the only sign we need look to. And when he says something to you, your only response should be “Yes, my Lord”

global

It’s a small world, a global village.

Who’s your neighbour?

We can no longer think local when we think of our fellow man/woman. Social media has made that impossible. We see our fellow humans under attack in Aleppo, we see our fellow humans fighting for their rights over their skin colour. We see our fellow humans being killed for their faith. We see our fellow humans dying form incurable diseases.

Social media can be such a depressing black hole.

But if we look closer, we can see our neighbours rescuing little boys form the rubble, we can see the privileged checking theirs to stand in solidarity with their fellow humans. If we look deeper we can see the flames of Holy Spirit fire coming from our brothers and sisters of faith as they look to Christ with a gun to their back. Come with me and look closer and we see the labs and the doctors and nurses and families that surround the sick and dying - it is holy work. And looking at it all and calling it grace is hard, it feels impossible but if we can’t find God and his grace in any part of it then he is in none of it and we must walk away. The earth is small and it and all that live on it are sick as well. No one here is safe from death. And yet we act as though the person beside is worth less than us, as if our life is somehow more important than theirs.

Matthew 25:31-46

blowout

The leaves, the leaves are everywhere and they are a metaphor for my brain these days. There are so many and they get crunched on and caught up in the wind and swirled about and scratch the surface of things and clog drains and get burned in piles in someone’s back yard. Boys and dogs jump and play in the piles of them and worms and bugs do their work to start the decay of them. Cat’s stalk them at the hopes of a mouse to catch and homeowners lament at the work of them. 

Thus, my brain. I have had far too many things thrown at me, not to mention the things I was already stewing about. I need a leaf blower to blow it all out of my head. It is causing a myriad of problems. And I am leaking water out my eyes and sleep is alluding me and my heart is weary and the Lord has been silent. I have not been able to write for days and days and it is all pilling up. 

Lord, hear my prayer. 

Sort the leaves please, burn the ones I do not need and help me to let them burn. I ask for your strength to rake and tidy the ones that need to go to waste, and be ok with the ones that get left behind. There are too many Lord and the ones that are too confusing or hurtful or hard to deal with, I give them to you, I look to you and I am leaving them for you to sort through. 

Help me tend my garden Lord. I am abiding in you. 

off

I need to shut everything off. I need a reset, a reboot. September was great. I was riding high form my trip down south to Vancouver. Nearly three weeks with family and friends and celebrating my birthday. I came home feeling renewed, recharged, ready for anything that might come my way.

All that changed once October hit the board. Too many things have come to take me down. Too many distractions, too many surprises that weren’t good. I’d almost chalk them up to attacks except, I don't want to give him that much credit. 

Homesickness has crept it’s way in and unfortunately that colours everything. It sets me up for disaster as it affects how I am able to respond, or not respond to challenges. Some days I want to tear it all down and build again, other days I want to hide under the covers. 

I’m not sure where to go from here. I can’t take another extended trip south, I can’t even take a short trip. How do I fix this? Where is my reset button? This is more than just turning it off and on again. My heart is battling it out with my brain, my spirit with my body, and the wrong sides are winning. 

Lord, hear my prayer. Bring me back to your presence, where I felt your peace like never before. Show me your mercy, wrap me in your love. 

park

Do you remember that time? One of the first times we were parked in a car. One of our first real dates. We went to Capilano. I made a fool of myself. Then you brought me home and we were parked and for a moment I didn't know what to do with myself so I said, “see you later”

I hope you weren’t planning to make a move. Probably not. It was too soon. 

Then there was that night. I know you remember THAT night right? I was to meet you at your place and you weren't there. And I had no way to get in touch with you . And it was a pouring November night in Vancouver, and I got rear ended on my way to get gas. And still I waited for you. For 90 minutes I waited. In the rain, in my leaky car listening to the radio and all the accident reports worried for your safety and I wasn't even totally sure how I felt about you. But I knew I didn't want you dead.

Then you showed up. You whipped around the corner into your driveway and I jumped out of my parked car and leaped into your arms and hugged you.. for the first time.

I knew then. There was no hiding it or denying it. It was you. You were it. 

We had dinner, we watched Star Wars. We cuddled, you kissed. I melted. 

Remember that other time? Going for pizza? Ya. You remember. 

Parked cars have all sorts of stories.

weekend

The weekend doesn’t mean what it used to for me. Having kids will do that to you. I know one day they will be grown and gone but still then, I won’t have my weekends like I used to. Unless Brad changes careers. Being a pastor means you don’t get your weekends. And being married to a pastor means you also, do not get your weekends. I miss having that freedom to choose if I want to go away. Brad and I were never able to experience that. I’m hoping one day we will. I hope one day we could look at each other and say “what do you want to do this weekend?” and we will both say “sleep” because after a lifetime of ministry and kids we will just want to sleep. And then maybe we will go somewhere. Right now our weekends are early mornings and late nights and long Sundays and short Saturdays and soccer in the summer and fights in the fall. Sometimes we get a long weekend but we don't really notice it. Every day blends into the next without much difference. 

notice

Do you see her? She is standing before you. Her hurt is laid bare, impossible to hide, yet no one seems to notice. She was born with perfection in her grasp, coming from the gaze of the King, her angels have seen His face - but, it doesn’t last. Because maybe, she is born into broken-ness. Maybe she has no one to help her find her way. Maybe the people who’s care she was trusted into should have a mill stone around their neck. And what can you do with that despair? What kind of life can you reap from what is sown in darkness? Things broken in the dark are done so in silence, and her voice has been removed. She spends her life accepting her silence or fighting to find her voice. She knows there should be a light somewhere but she can’t find the switch. Do you see her now? Do you know she might be your wife? Your sister? Your cousin? Your friend? Do you notice her sneaking into the back of your church. Trying to be invisible because invisibility keeps her safe. Yet, her missing voice would scream to be seen, to be loved, to be restored. Can you help her? When you see her will you help her find her voice? Will you fight with her to find the light? Or will you tell yourself she is not loveable because you see the track marks or cutting on her arms.  You don’t know how to talk to her because she sees the world differently from you. Are you the hands of feet of Jesus? Or are you searching for the light too?

1 in 9 girls experience sexual violence under the age of 18.

https://www.rainn.org/statistics/children-and-teens

neighbour

Do unto others..

It is the “golden rule”

And we try to live it in our house. Of course, we are not always successful. From the top down. It is something we all struggle with. Love your neighbour. When I was a kid I thought that just meant the people that live in the house beside me. As I’ve grown I’ve long since realized it means everybody that is not you. Your neighbour is just the person beside you. The person in front of you in the grocery line up that can’t seem to find quite enough money for their groceries. The driver that cut you off and gives you the finger. The spouse that never listens to you, the child that disobeys you. The ministry leader that doesn’t quite know how to lead, the “invisible” homeless person you walk past every day and try not to see. How about the person you hurt years ago and can’t seem to find the courage to say “I’m sorry” or the road work flag person that is just trying to make a living and not purposely trying to ruin your drive home.

Our boys struggle with this concept most days. Who am I kidding, every day they struggle with it. And so do I, quite frankly. And it goes hand in hand with our relationship to God, our obedience to God. Because Jesus didn't just say, “love your neighbour” He said, “love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and mind, AND love your neighbour as yourself.” I think we forget about how important that first part is in relation to the second part. 

Yes, yes, there are people that don't know God that do very well at loving their neighbour, but I think even they would admit to struggling with being perfect at it. 

Love Him, and He will help you love the rest, because in the rest, you will see Him.

study

“Where we think, they feel” - Anthony Quinn, A Walk in the Clouds

He is describing how men think their way through life and women feel their way. Yes it is a generalized and sweeping statement but, not entirely off the mark. I think. A lot. About a plethora of topics, but those thoughts create feelings. Very strong feelings. This is not untrue for men either. I don't even think it is necessarily a gender issue. It is more of a personality issue. I study people, how they talk, what they say, body language, how other people respond to them. I so often would spend an evening in the youth room with Brad and afterwards, I would tell him all that was going on relationally with the youth just from watching them. I didn’t even have to talk to them. He often would not believe me, then a few months later it would all come out and I’d have to bite my tongue to stop from saying “ I told you so” 

I have been studying people for the last 20 years or so. In my youth I was too concerned with myself that I was blind to other people and how they interacted. School was all about studying books and I was not into that at the time either. As I grew up I realized that I noticed people and tried to figure them out. I think it was because of life experience that this changed for me. Have enough people break trust with you and you start to watch them first. People will show you themselves long before you talk to them. It is so interesting how hurts, experiences can shape us, can actually benefit us.

little

I don’t know when it happened, but God has planted a seed in me. I can’t even tell you what kind of seed, but it’s there. It started quite little. So little in fact that I wasn’t even aware it was there until last week. It is amazing how he does these things. Some people might just consider it a coincidence. An, “isn’t it funny how that happened” kind of idea. I see it so differently, especially when you are actively seeking God’s presence in your life. 

Last week I came across a conference happening in the lower mainland and when I read about it, I started weeping. Actually, the weeping was caught up in my throat. Like, I couldn’t believe this was happening and I was trying to suppress it. Once my tears calmed, the rest of me got so excited. I asked God if this was for real. Where are these feelings coming from? Are they from you Lord? All of a sudden I am aware of this seed. And I want to help it grow but I don’t know how. You see, the conference - even though it is but for a weekend and is in the lower mainland, is surprisingly expensive. And when you add airfare and possible extra accommodation and a car rental, the whole event becomes prohibitive. And it quite possibly conflicts with a retreat Brad goes to every year. And now I am weeping for a totally different reason. Now, every time I see something come on my feed for the conference I tear up again because it is like my seed sees the sun but it is sitting in the shade. God awoke something in me and I am getting restless with the wondering what to do next. 

Have you ever experienced this? Have you ever been made aware of something with no outlet to plug into? What did you do? Looking back, how did God work in you through that time?

move

in him we live, and move, and have our being

in him we live, and move, and have our being

make a joyful noise

sing unto the lord

tell him of of your love

dance before him

make a joyful noise

sing unto the lord

tell him of your love

hallelujah

in him we live and move and have our being

in him we live and move and have our being*

I sang this song in high school. A standard for a pentecostal denomination. This song is taken form Acts 17:28. Paul is talking about the resurrection and our inheritance in Christ. It is a beautiful redeeming verse. When I read it in it’s context it is full of passion and freedom. But once I close my bible, I often become like the person James warns about who forgets what he looks like as soon as he steps away from the mirror. Why is it so difficult to live in these truths? Why do we willingly put on bindings and tangle out hands and feet to keep ourselves form living in this freedom. 

There is restoration, redemption and freedom for all who chose to live and move and have their being in Christ. 

mail

I have learned how to hide behind the written word. It may seem like I am pouring out my heart sometimes but in reality, I choose this form of communication because speaking words with my mouth as opposed to my fingers terrifies me. More than once I have written a letter to someone I love over an issue I should have spoken directly to them about. The problem is that because I am a slow processor I have great difficulty having hard conversations because the person will respond and I am too taken aback and get stuck. I then can’t formulate an appropriate response and get stuck. Then I begin to feel my slow processors shouting at me and I feel dumb. Why can’t I respond to this. Why am I so overwhelmed with my feelings about this that I can’t formulate a response to further growth and foster connection? It is incredibly frustrating. 

I recently wrote a note to someone I love because I couldn’t handle talking directly to them. In essence I hide behind the paper. I cop out of the responsibility of true, right, honest relationship. I am very blessed (and I know it) to have people in my life that understand this shortcoming and love me anyways. It is something I intend to work on. 

aware

I’m not sure that there is anything in my life that has taught me more about myself than having children. I used to think I was so self aware when I met Brad. I had come to a place of peace about who I was, or who I thought I knew I was, and felt confident in my abilities to adult. But since having kids I have become painfully aware of my lack of knowledge about myself and my ability to adult; how I would rather run and hide from grown-up responsibility, how selfish I am, how easily my emotions control me.

I had never previously known that I hate to feel like a failure. I hate it when I screw up. I suppose this feeling has always been there but in high school I never cared enough to try, never stretched myself beyond my perceived abilities. Well, there is no escaping that with children. You are stretched and pushed and pulled like taffy candy every single day. And heaven help your ego if you make one miss-step. 

Potty training is my kryptonite, my achilles heel, my one ring if you will. That may all sound extreme, but nothing else in my life has caused more temper flares and made me more aware of my “lack of” and my “need for” than anything else. Every time he does not have success with the toilet I have a failure. And it is becoming my undoing. 

sky

The day was as crisp and clear and as juicy as a fresh apple. The sunlight was practically liquid as it seemed to splash off the leaves and grass. It made the air sparkle. The fragrance was everything that is fall; the earth never smells more alive than when its flora is dying.  She laid on her back on the ground, the scattered leaves underneath her crunched from the weight of her. A deep sigh released and she looked up to the sky. A transparent blue gem of a sky it was. And it caught her breath once she noticed it. 

She played there, looking up to the sky, looking into the sky, looking through the sky. Wondering what was beyond it. She has seen the pictures from space but this wonderment goes deeper than space.

 “Where is He?” she thought to herself. “He ascended. Where exactly is it?” 

These thoughts that so many children have had since growing up in Sunday school, but she is no longer a child. She has lived a life so far, and has felt little deaths as she has put herself down to pick up something greater. Yet still. The question remains as she gazes into the heavens. 

“Where exactly are they?”

thank you

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for loving me, for dying for me, for forgiving me. 

Thank you for how you healed the sick and deaf and lame.

Thank you that you heal me from being deaf to your voice.

Thank you for healing the sickness in my heart.

Thank you for healing my lame spirit.

Thank you for showing us love.

I am sorry when I do not love as you have commanded.

I am sorry that sometimes I put myself first.

Thank you for loving me even though you know I will do those things wrong.

Sweet Jesus, thank you for fixing us. 

Thank you for restoring us.

Thank you for redeeming us.

When I see your face I will fall on mine.

Thank you for challenging me, for bringing me along on the journey.

You are the greatest adventure. I am so sorry when I don’t trust your compass.

Thank you for your words of hope and grace. 

Thank you for leaving your spirit here on earth until your work is done.

Thank you for seeing past my filth.

Thank you for seeing me.

I am known and loved.

I hope to know you and love you the same.

unknown

I am living in the unknown right now. I have deep abiding feelings about trust. I have been betrayed by a few people in my life so trust in God, even though he is “The Man” has been a consistent battle in my life. And sometimes, I just wanna know. You know?

I have talked about this before. I am living in a zone of mystery. Which, to be honest is God’s schtick right. I mean, come on. He is all up in the mystery, unanswered questions, take it all on faith kind of living. And for a mom of three boys, living on a pastor’s salary in a different town it puts you on the tip of the iceberg of trust requirements. But I wave them around like a banner of pride. Like “LOOK AT ME! I’M A MOM OF BOYS AND THEY DRIVE ME CRAZY AND WE ARE A MINISTRY FAMILY AND IT’S HARD AND YOU NEED TO PRAY FOR MY SANITY BECAUSE GOD IS ALL UP IN MY BUSINESS!!”

Really though. 

God has been twisting me into all sorts of pretzels and sometimes there is a sweet release, like he’s the great chiropractor and sometimes it hurts. It hurts hard. 

Right now I am neither here nor there. I am in a waiting, wanting, longing period. I have these very specific promises before me but I’m trying to not let them tangle my heart. They are not God. They have come from God and he is in the business of changing lives. And he is changing mine. He is awakening in me somethings that I didn’t even know where there. Do I sound cryptic? Good. So then, when I say I am living in the unknown, you now get an idea of how all at once terrifying and exciting it is. 

post-it

Do you know the hardest thing about writing? It isn’t the challenge of what to write about or when to write or even how I want to say it all (although, that can be pretty challenging) No. It is posting it. Putting it out there in the internet ether. Then asking you all to read it and care.

I maked this. Do you like it? Does it speak to you? Do you think it’s weird? Do you hate it? - please don’t tell me. Am I crazy for putting my thoughts and feelings out there? 

I have written millions of words and most of them stay locked away in my journal. Some I have laboured over for days and still they sit. Some I have sat and volcanoed out the words like the pressure was so bad I would explode were it not for the writing. But then comes the posting.

Posting it on the blog or on Facebook is most nerve wracking. This sort of thing is no big deal. This is a humours musing. But when I dig deep and click on that publish button, my heart skips a beat or ten. It is painful and releasing and glorious and heart wrenching all at the same time.   Partly because people I personally know read this. But also, because I am a private person - hello, irony - and so the idea of a complete stranger knowing my thoughts is, unsettling. But here I come still because I am compelled. I need to write, I need to say these things and ultimately it matters not if you read what I post. I just need to say it. 

muddle

I could write this great post about how we just muddle our way through life. And in fact I thought about doing it. I was positing the different ideas back and forth in my brain and trying to come up with a good starter. How we muddle and what muddling actually means. And then I got to thinking about the last time I was in Vancouver visiting family. So, just 6 weeks ago. And I was staying with my sister in Langley for a couple days and one of those days, I think the was feeling particularly “muddley” (haha) so she decided she wanted a drink and made herself a mojito. If you are not familiar with that drink you should be. Vodka, lime, sugar, mint - Excellent! She made one for herself then made me one. It was yummy. We were making dinner and I drank it quickly and before it kicked in I made myself another one and as I was muddling the mint I had a quickly passing thought, “should I make this?”. It was a double shot glass she was using for the vodka. I shrugged it off and decided that because we were having supper soon it would be ok. 

I suppose if you mean by “ok” that you have a buzz while you’re in the pool with your children and you’re supposed to be an alert adult. Then I was “ok”

Sometimes this is how we muddle through life. 

test

“This is a test of the emergency broadcast system this is only a test. 

                       BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system. Had this been real emergency, the sound you just heard would have been followed by important information regarding your specific emergency. This has been a test of the emergency broadcast system”

You remember that don’t you? I remember those growing up. Especially over summer holiday when my sisters and I watched The Price is Right. We’d be pretending we were Janice or Diane and model random objects around the living room for Bob to talk about. Then a commercial break would come and if we weren’t fast enough we would be assaulted with the alarm beep. 

That test always made me afraid, not because I don’t like tests, but because it brought the fear of “what if?” What kind of emergency would constitute the use of the emergency broadcast system? And if it was a real emergency, are people really watching their televisions? I guess 30 years ago they were. As I grew older I just shrugged my shoulders whenever those came on. Well, we’ve never been in a situation to need to use it so what’s the point? I became numb to the test.

This is all I’ve been able to think about these last 24 hours. “This is a test” It feels like we are being tested at this moment, and failing horribly. Donald Trump has continually shown his true colours and a sizeable chunk of the United States population continues to turn a blind eye. The virus that has infiltrated the minds of our southern neighbours is incredibly contagious. Yes, I am a Canadian living in Canada but we are but a breath away from infection. Yesterday a video recording came forth of him showing his degradation towards woman, his “I take what I want” attitude, his overinflated sense of entitlement. It is sad at best, evil at it’s worst and somewhere in the middle I want to vomit. This isn’t an “all of a sudden” kind of arrangement here folks. This behaviour should surprise no body. Trump embodies everything that is bad and titillating about the internet. He is the internet incarnate and this is why he can’t be ignored even though he should. He speaks unbridled, and people have called that refreshing, he continually lies and instead of calling him out on it his supporters just turn the tables. And yes, his opponent is no better. Seriously, NO BETTER if you are interested in any sort of moral integrity. But since when did we vote on candidates based on moral integrity? 

The reality is that we already failed the test. We have been tested for years and years. On the basis of Trump=internet, we failed years ago. When we continue to ignore the warnings and go for the titillation. When we turn a deaf ear to objectifying and degrading words. When we laugh at a meme that makes light of a woman’s worth with words like “bitches” and “hoes”. This recent “revelation” of Trump’s behaviour and the lewd words read no differently than any random rap/hip hop lyrics. Trump should sell his words to Vince Staples and he’ll turn it into a hit overnight. You can’t laugh at a mom in tears horrified by the lyrics of a rap song then turn around and be horrified at Trumps words and attitude. 

I look at my boys and am so glad they aren’t old enough to hear any of this on the news, but the reality is that Trump is not the only man on this planet that thinks and behaves this way. As we have learned about so much this last year, rape culture is a real thing and it’s roots are power and entitlement. I am so focused on making sure my boys respect not just the opposite sex but all forms of life. We do not take just because we want. That may seem like typical behaviour for a toddler but not for a seven year old, or a 34 year old and certainly not for a 60 year old man running for president.

Shock and awe people, it is not just a Dessert Storm attack stance. It is how we receive our information. We get riled up and angry or hurt or insulted and rant from our keyboards that we are going to do something about it. And in fairness, I know some people that have. They have been so compelled by what they have seen that they have taken up the mantel of injustice fighter and it is thrilling to witness. This is the kind of shock and awe I want to be surrounded by. 

Stop waiting for the emergency broadcast system to tell you what to do. We are in a state of emergency. This is dire. Being Canadian does not make you immune to the ramifications of this outcome of this election. We have been in a global village for decades and for good and bad we can not escape it.

you

you are fat, 

you are ugly, 

you are a sinner, 

you are the Messiah, 

you are a child of God, 

you are having a boy, 

you are dirty, 

you need a bath, 

you must fight, 

you have no idea how much I love you, 

you cannot scream like that, 

you are beautiful, 

you are strong, 

you are stupid, 

you are lazy, 

you are missed, 

you have to apply yourself, 

you can’t give up, 

you are treasured, 

you are a failure, 

you are loved, 

you are full of shit, 

you are such a blessing, 

you make a good cup of coffee, 

you have an amazing voice, 

you are so talented, 

you are such a good preacher, 

you are the best sister in the world, 

you lied to me, 

you hurt me, 

you are the man of my dreams, 

you are going to lose this baby, 

you are a great mom, 

you don’t understand, 

you weren’t there, 

you have to treat people the way you want to be treated, 

you are forgiven, 

you can do this, 

you are worthy, 

you deserve to be healthy, 

you are the light of the world, 

you are my Saviour, 

you are my King.

silence

I can’t believe I’m three days behind on this writing thing well, I guess I can believe it. You’ve never been very good finisher Colleen good starter yes, not good at finishing. It has been harder than I anticipated but I’m not going to give up on it. Today is Iain’s birthday, how is he 4 how does that happen? Just yesterday I was holding him brand new. Where does it all go? I wish I could get some of that time back, I’m always saying to Brad I wish I could go back to at least one day for each of my boys when they were babies so I could snuggle them, kiss them, nurse them again instead of the other night when they pushed me to my limits and I lost it on them. yay mom. Now all I have in my head is noise noise noise. Why do I have such hard time forgiving my parenting mistakes. I’m convinced that they will be ruined forever because of my slip-ups. Ugh, I’m so homesick. I had such a great visit back home in august and I’ve been doing great with everything here but now I am so so homesick and that is more noise in my head. We’ve been here a solid 2 years and I still long for my hometown I wonder if that will ever change. Noah keeps having meltdowns I think he’s overwhelmed with kindergarten but he won’t really admit it. Last night he yelled at his pancakes. Carlon is getting picked on by another kid in his class over the stupidest stuff. First this kid was calling him Barlon and now he is just being bossy to Carlon and it’s really upsetting him. Iain still won’t poop in the toilet. I sometimes wonder if I could ship him off to potty training boarding school but then I know for sure I would never be able to forgive myself for that. noise noise noise.

brew

These words - these prompt words for this write 31 days are killing me. They are not the kind of words I would have expected. It has been hard to come up with something to write that doesn’t sound completely ridiculous. But, the word for this one. It got me thinking. Most people brew coffee or tea, I brew thoughts. Ideas, I hold my dreams close and tight. Few see what is brewing in my head. Not until it’s ready does it come out. I suppose that is another reason why doing this has been challenging. I am spazzing out on the keyboard trying to type out thoughts I’ve gathered for a few minutes before I actually start writing. And, I am not a fast typist. 

What is really brewing inside me these days is anticipation of the Lord. I am waiting on him for something. And I don’t even know what it is. He is brewing something in me, a holy longing, and fervent excitement. Not even sure how to qualify it. But it is overwhelming some days. Maybe it’s just catching up on the time I wasted not talking to Him. I don’t know for sure. What I do know is I don’t get this feeling every day, what I mean is, I have only felt this specific feeling a few other times in my life. He is doing something mighty in me. Pray with me please? If you think of me. Pray for me.

wardrobe

I want a magical wardrobe. When I was a kid I learned the story of the lion the witch and the wardrobe. I loved the idea that you could step through a closet to get to a magical land. I would play in my closet and pretend to be Lucy meeting Mr. Tumnus. It was great, albeit a little cramped. Now I want my closet to be magical again. I wish I could walk into it and enter a place of quiet. I suppose that comes with being a mom to three boys. It gets so loud here. Quiet has become my elusive friend, like Mr. Beaver; you see him for a moment then he takes off, but then pops up and asks you to follow him, then he disappears again. 

In my quiet world there lives the coziest couch filled with pillows and soft blankets, and a little table with tea or coffee and a lovely cookie. My favourite books or even just some sweet soft music to lull me to rest. It is so quiet that my thoughts can be heard. A place where the breeze blows soft and there is a sweet smell of flora. Right now it is fall so the leaves and the wet and the crisp air fill me full. I can smell the snow from the mountains and I bundle up and stoke the fire that has appeared beside me. It is glorious and magical. I look around and see other people in their quiet space and I acknowledge them by not talking to them. It is peaceful. It is a dream.

paint

Six and a half years ago we stepped into the housing market. We were renters of a basement suite as newlyweds often do, but our family was growing and we were running out of space. We purchased a town house. We knew it wouldn’t contain us for long but we needed bigger and our family was happy to help us get our foot in the home equity door. We moved in in the middle of summer and in the middle of not knowing I was pregnant with our second. It was exhausting times. But in the end, Carlon finally had his own room. And he was thrilled and so were we. After 20 months of sharing our bedroom with our son, we had our space back. And he had his. Only his was bland - the whole house was. The walls were a bland painters beige. You know, almost like they just painted primer. We talked about painting and adding our own touches. I got paint samples and searched pinterest and hgtv. But in the end, the only room that got painted was Carlons. A pale green. He was thrilled. I added fun curtains and all was well. 

Now we are in our house. An actual house and it needs paint. Inside and out. But will we ever get to it. I have the same sense here as we did in the town house that we are not here permanently. Not because of out growing it. But because of God’s calling. Is this our metaphor for life? Do we put off the work that needs to be done in anticipation of something better, or different. Or refusing to change?

walk..

The sky was bright, the air was light and clear. The sun was warm and the breeze had the most delicious chill. 

“I must get out there” she thought. The day was beckoning to her. It was as if the day was made just for her. She was born for days like this. “A walk. It is perfect for a walk” she thought. 

Out she bounded and began to ran. She did not want to be running but her body forced it. It ran all the time, it had forgotten how to walk.

“NO!” her feet shouted

“No!” her legs groaned. “We have run too much. We need rest. We need not run all the time!”

She battled, feeling guilty, I should run, I need to run. But you need rest. You need to stop and remember the day. Breathe and take in the glory. The brightness of the sun. It doesn’t happen every day. No, there is always something that needs to be done.

-Bless your race my child, but sometimes you need to rest. Come into my rest.- 

She heard the voice push heavy on her heart and she could not go on. She could barely breathe. The weight of those words stopped her in her tracks.

-Come into my rest. Give me your yoke-

She stopped and looked into the sky. She looked beyond the sky, into the deep vastness that is beyond. And finally a breath flew into her lungs. Not so much breathed in as it was blown in. And  then out. And a tear pushed out and down her cheek.

Sometimes we just need to walk with him.

what is true the first year is true the eleventh..

When Brad and I were a couple years married, I was asked to do the devotional time at a bridal shower for a beautiful young woman in our church. I stumbled upon this devotional recently while I was tidying up our basement. And as I read through it I realized how I have not lived up to my desires for my marriage. It is a humbling, sobering experience. But I can tell you that because of that, these words carry so much weight and truth. And so fitting that I would find this the day before our 11th wedding anniversary.

I read a book a few years ago about our relationship with God and all the different ways we’re connected to Him. The author wrote one chapter in particular called “Under the Chuppah” In this chapter the author talks about the chuppah and the prayer shawl and the importance and their meaning in Hebrew heritage.

I want to give you the image of the chuppah. Imagine a tent, not a camping tent, more like a canopy. This is the tent that Hebrew couples are married under, often the material on top is a prayer shawl. The prayer shawl is typically white with a several blue stripes woven through and the sides of the shawl are adorned with tassels. It is a beautiful picture to me. It is a physical, tangible reminder of the presence of God. Not just on the occasion of the wedding but how he is with us, always covering us. All sides of the tent are open to connect with Abraham and Sarah and their hospitality to the special guests. The tent itself is empty, except for the couple, to signify that the home is about the people inside, not the possessions. It’s the people inside that I want to look at. These two people have been brought together by the Lord. The joining of these two goes back to Adam and Eve, the recognition of Adam’s need for a help meet and God creating Eve to reconcile that need. From the earth he made man in His image and from man’s side he made woman

“This is now bone of my bones

    and flesh of my flesh;

she shall be called ‘woman,’

    for she was taken out of man.”

That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.

Genesis 2:23-24

And so as she was taken from his side, they work side by side and their continuing relationship is also intended to reveal God’s plan for reconciliation and earthly example. In the jewish ceremony some of the vows the groom says to the bride are:

“I will take you out..”

“I will rescue you”

“I will redeem you”

“I will take you to me”

Very intense promises and, quite frankly, impossible promises to keep if there are more that just the bride and groom under the chuppah… under God within their marriage, because when there are more than the required number of people involved in a marriage you can end up feeling like you’re wandering in the desert. When that happens it can be difficult to defend against the enemy. The Lord has consecrated marriage. He created it and He has blessed it, and by consecrating it He has set it apart and made it sacred. When that sacredness and blessing isn’t respected then it (the marriage) suffers, the people suffer.

What does this all mean?

The strength of the bond of the marriage, the mystery, the sacredness, the power in it is only realized in it’s exclusiveness. When a couple invites everyone and their cat into their marriage, into the day to day details, the “he did that” or “she never does this” it loses it’s intimacy. There is a mysticism in marriage that should not be fractured. It is a wholeness that should not be broken.

There are so many changes that come with marriage, some that are obvious - that you can prepare for, others.. you can’t possibly be ready for because those changes are specifically tailored to who each of you are. No one can predict those changes and you might never recognize the need for them until you encounter them.

One day your spouse will say “why do you do that?” and you won’t have and answer. But discussing these things together (exclusively) and with the Lord is where you start to build the trust and security within your bond and then you have a solid framework for establishing the protection required to keep your bond sacred. And through the years you continue to practice those steps, building on that framework. 

My heart breaks for a couple every time one of them talks about the things their spouse does that they can’t stand, whether it is behind their back or cutting them down when they’re right there. That does not edify and it damages the trust. They likely are not discussing these hurts with each other, and by talking with other people they are making new and deeper hurts.

I know Brad and I aren’t perfect, but I also know God brought us together and has a plan for us as a team and so I know that although he is not perfect and I am not perfect, we are perfect for each other. That in no way means our marriage is perfect., nobody’s is. That is impossible. But when we have our moments should I go to my best friends or my sisters or my mom and vent my frustrations. That would harm Brad, that would harm me and it would harm our home. If I have frustrations with Brad I talk to Brad about them. Only God knows me better than he does. Why would I do anything to take that away form him, to lose that connection with him?

One day something will happen, something impossible to plan for, something that will affect you both. Separately you’ll process theses times differently, but how you come through as a team is determined by the energy you’ve put into protecting your sacred bond.

Brad and I still hold hands and I am determined to still be holding his hand 50 years form now. I have made up my mind that I will never be glad when he’s away at a retreat or a conference. I will always keep the lights on.. always greet him with joy when he comes home,, speak of him with respect because the point of our marriage, of any marriage isn’t just marriage.

Marriage has a mission, it is designed to show something to the broken-ness of our world. It is a chance to display God’s love. When a marriage remains sacred when the two remain one, when they practice reconciliation, when they give grace, the redemption we have in Christ can be witnessed.

I covet this sacredness for all marriages. Let us encourage one another to reconciliation and grace. Let us hold true to the mystery of the connection of our marriage to Christ and the church. 

It is redemptive, it is Christ alive in us.

seeds..

The seed, the seed is planted so early. The moment she finds something to care for; a doll, a pet, a baby sibling. She is life, she nurtures, she loves. 

For some that seed is forced dormant. Hurts, expectations, failures, betrayals. They are a cold blast against germination.

For others, that seed is crushed and never a new one is planted.

-and we weep-

But, if that seed is still there, if it is fed, and watered, it grows, it flourishes, it flowers.

And she dreams, and loves, and labours and pours her heart and soul into the hope of one. And then another, and maybe another, and maybe another and maybe..

And hope becomes true, and love grows, for 40 weeks -or less or more- love grows, to the point of bursting. It can no longer be contained. And so begins her labour. And it never stops. She labours to meet her hope realized and she will labour the rest of her life.

It is a life if firsts, and they can not be replaced. First feed, first bath, first roll, first steps, no more crib, out of diapers, it all happens so fast. And we are just supposed to let go? Just like that? Leave them in the hands of a near stranger for six hours a day when they have been our little shadow for twenty-four?

It is a tearing. It was known to come but, surprising still. 

How did we get here? 

Weren’t you just a babe?

Didn’t your head just fit into the crook of my neck?

Don’t you see, if I close my eyes I can still smell your baby-ness?

When I look down, I see your bright eyes studying me from my breast. I smile at you and you break your latch to smile back. And then it becomes a game.

Pardon me while I wipe the water from my eyes..

How do we let our hopes loose on the world? We are still nurturing them, they change faster than we do.

But, this is not where we stop growing.

Need we try to hold onto the past so tight when the future holds all the adventures? As if to say, “those were the best days ever, nothing can compete” Where is our life from there then? We must seek more joy, dream new dreams, hope new hopes. We can plant different seeds to nurture and grow. We must move or we petrify. We are to spend our lives. Our days cannot be stored up and saved. 

Watch your hopes grow and mature and grow their own seeds and so on. This is life, and it is beautiful. Hold it with open hands.