I'm still trying to get my feet under me. There are things I know to be true in my mind and heart and yet, I still have this churning of uneasiness as if I don't quite have my footing. It is as if at any moment, I could slide down a steep hill into a huge pool of angry water. (Picture an over sized washing machine gone mad) Sounds like a bad Alice in Wonderland adventure doesn't it?
It's not that any one particular thing is hanging around looking for ways to trip me, no this is more an irrational feeling linked to emotional, physical and spiritual exhaustion. It could almost be described as fear but is probably more accurately described as a feeling of not being enough. A feeling of not being strong enough, wise enough, spiritual enough, fit enough, organized enough... well, you get the picture.
Life, well everything really, feels risky when you feel like you are not enough. Basic, simple tasks seem daunting. I second guess most decisions, even silly ones like what product to get at the grocery store. My nerves are a bit fried and I don't laugh as easily as I did a while ago. And I snap at my family. All in all, I am, once again, a mess.
It's not a new feeling. I've been here before. The thing I notice in getting older, is knowing that this unsettling feeling won't last for ever. It too will go one day. I have weathered a storm like this before. However, for the record, let me say clearly: I didn't like it then and I don't like it now.
The good news in all of this is: I do know, absolutely that God's love and grace are with me in my churning, uneasy, mess of a self. I need not run or hide. I need not pretend to have it all together. I know that God is big enough to handle all of the mess that is me. I know it better than I know my name because I have experienced it in those earlier storms. It is times like these that I am reminded that I am loved not for what I "can do for" God (silly thought isn't it?), but I am loved because I am, and God understands me and my journey far better than I do.
St. John Chrysostom said: God is not ignorant of anything that happens in creation, and if God loves us more truly than the best human father, and if God loves us so as to number our very hairs, then we need not be afraid.... He already knows the secrets of your heart.
I believe that. I believe God is not ignorant of anything that happens. I believe God loves us better than the best human father. I believe God knows the secrets of my heart. And I believe God is at work for good. Even if it doesn't feel like it.
Okay, so my feet may indeed be jello right now, but stay tuned, God is pretty creative, no telling what's coming...
K
Monday, February 28, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Vigil
This past weekend, Kathleen's family gathered in the small town of Payson, Arizona to stand watch as Kath's mom's battle with cancer came to a close. It was sad, it was draining, but it was also a time of laughter, the re-telling of favorite stories and just being family. God was present, which shouldn't be a surprise but it always is for some strange reason. Maybe it has more to do with my paper-thin faith, my brokenness; or maybe that's just the nature of God and God's kingdom. It's kind of like the scene from The Chronicles of Narnia, when Aslan is walking along the beach one moment and the next he's gone. Hmm?
On Sunday, as we were present with the mom-in-law, I started journaling a bit about this notion of vigil. My sister-in-law is from Mexico and is devoutly Catholic. For her, vigils have rules. There is form and structure to them. You stand vigil for so many days, you pray certain prayers, you use the rosary, you...you get the idea. For me, our vigil was what you do when words are no longer enough anymore. Maybe that's my growing up Baptist. Anyway, I was just struck by this notion of holding vigil over Kathleen's mom.
How do we do this dance with death? Its not like there's a rule book. How do we deal with the unkown? I know that for those of us who follow Jesus, we believe there is another space/place where God's presence envelops us. In that we take comfort, but it doesn't always ease the burden of saying good-bye or keeping vigil. Where does our Hope for something more than this life intertwine with our keeping watch over someone as they prepare to leave this life into something more? How? I'm not sure, other to say, imperfectly.
Closer now...breathing a little more shallow...how do you say goodbye? I start to think of my own parents; about them in this situation, of how I/we would hold vigil over them. Sad.
It's probably to soon to write this, too soon to post it, yet it's hard to do anything else but to think about it; our keeping vigil over Donna. It's hard not to think of her, to miss her, to love her, to want a different outcome than what we got. It's hard cause I see the pain in my wife's face, in her voice, in the voices and faces of her brothers, of my children...of Ev and his life without her after all these years with her...
Dying is hard work...vigils are hard... may we all be surprised by the Hope
-M-
On Sunday, as we were present with the mom-in-law, I started journaling a bit about this notion of vigil. My sister-in-law is from Mexico and is devoutly Catholic. For her, vigils have rules. There is form and structure to them. You stand vigil for so many days, you pray certain prayers, you use the rosary, you...you get the idea. For me, our vigil was what you do when words are no longer enough anymore. Maybe that's my growing up Baptist. Anyway, I was just struck by this notion of holding vigil over Kathleen's mom.
How do we do this dance with death? Its not like there's a rule book. How do we deal with the unkown? I know that for those of us who follow Jesus, we believe there is another space/place where God's presence envelops us. In that we take comfort, but it doesn't always ease the burden of saying good-bye or keeping vigil. Where does our Hope for something more than this life intertwine with our keeping watch over someone as they prepare to leave this life into something more? How? I'm not sure, other to say, imperfectly.
Closer now...breathing a little more shallow...how do you say goodbye? I start to think of my own parents; about them in this situation, of how I/we would hold vigil over them. Sad.
It's probably to soon to write this, too soon to post it, yet it's hard to do anything else but to think about it; our keeping vigil over Donna. It's hard not to think of her, to miss her, to love her, to want a different outcome than what we got. It's hard cause I see the pain in my wife's face, in her voice, in the voices and faces of her brothers, of my children...of Ev and his life without her after all these years with her...
Dying is hard work...vigils are hard... may we all be surprised by the Hope
-M-
Monday, February 21, 2011
A Paradox of Love and Faith
It's been a week and a day since my mom died. A tough week and a day. My thoughts ramble. Concentration is difficult. My eyes leak at the most inopportune times. But today, as I was writing letters to my aunts and uncles remembering my Mom with them, a thought came to the forefront;
"It is clear that a piece of our hearts is forever gone. We will always miss her laugh, her smile and the way she raised that one eyebrow when she meant business. Even so, I am certain, with every fiber of my being, that we will always carry her in our heart... and so she shall never be far from us."
Quite the paradox isn't it.
Forever gone, but forever here. Hmmm.
Grief is a strange thing, we miss and deeply grieve not seeing their smiles and hearing their laugh. Rightly so. In my mother's situation she had lived a very fulfilling life. She loved deeply and was deeply loved. She was surrounded by those who love her when she quite literally went to sleep here and woke up in heaven. All in all, as things could go, it was very peaceful and quiet. And the truth is, had she lived another 30 years, we her family, would have wanted more time still. It would never have been enough. Our grief was, and still is, intense, but there is much to be celebrated in a life well lived and well loved.
My faith tells me that she is not gone (as in vaporized), she is not alone, nor floating in some vast abyss. My faith tells me she is experiencing the fullness of God's love and tender care. She is with the loved ones she missed and cried for. She is experiencing God as we were intended to. Maybe the streets are gold there, (sure, why not) but they have never been the carrot dangling in front of me to entice me to "be good". If that works for you then great, but for me heaven is all about the people and the love. The feeling of being totally understood and accepted.
*Sigh* Who wouldn't want that?
So I will miss her terribly, and my eyes will leak at crazy times, and yes she is gone, but no not really.
K
"It is clear that a piece of our hearts is forever gone. We will always miss her laugh, her smile and the way she raised that one eyebrow when she meant business. Even so, I am certain, with every fiber of my being, that we will always carry her in our heart... and so she shall never be far from us."
Quite the paradox isn't it.
Forever gone, but forever here. Hmmm.
Grief is a strange thing, we miss and deeply grieve not seeing their smiles and hearing their laugh. Rightly so. In my mother's situation she had lived a very fulfilling life. She loved deeply and was deeply loved. She was surrounded by those who love her when she quite literally went to sleep here and woke up in heaven. All in all, as things could go, it was very peaceful and quiet. And the truth is, had she lived another 30 years, we her family, would have wanted more time still. It would never have been enough. Our grief was, and still is, intense, but there is much to be celebrated in a life well lived and well loved.
My faith tells me that she is not gone (as in vaporized), she is not alone, nor floating in some vast abyss. My faith tells me she is experiencing the fullness of God's love and tender care. She is with the loved ones she missed and cried for. She is experiencing God as we were intended to. Maybe the streets are gold there, (sure, why not) but they have never been the carrot dangling in front of me to entice me to "be good". If that works for you then great, but for me heaven is all about the people and the love. The feeling of being totally understood and accepted.
*Sigh* Who wouldn't want that?
So I will miss her terribly, and my eyes will leak at crazy times, and yes she is gone, but no not really.
K
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
My Heart's Picture
I hold in my heart a picture that developed over the last weekend. I shall try, though my words may be inadequate, to describe the vision I hold in my heart;
Our scene opens on a dense, thick wooded hillside mixed with Ponderosa Pines, Cottonwoods and Quaking Aspen trees. Thick Oak shrubs color the forest floor. A deep fog has settled in and rests heavy over the woods. Into this, a beautiful, fair skinned, red-haired, beauty of a woman winds her way down a thin trail through the thick woods. She is leaving behind misty figures waving goodbye, but she can still hear their soft voices, warm with love. As she emerges from the woods the warm sun catches her hair and it shimmers like dark polished copper. She steps onto the meadow and is immediately overwhelmed with the vast magnitude and beauty of what she sees: a field bursting with spring flowers, rimmed by towering snow capped mountains. The colors have never been more beautiful and the sounds of the forest are as clear as a church bell on a quiet Sunday morning. She can hear the sound of a creek gurgling close by, not too loud, as the water churns and flows over the rocks. It's the kind of creek she remembers from her youth, and her heart and mind are suddenly filled with warm memories of playing at Workman Creek with her brothers and sisters. The air is crisp and clean; just a whisper of a breeze. Taking a deep breath, it feels as though she has never really taken a breath before, certainly nothing like this one! The scene is captivating, her senses alive. It's as if every flower, every bird, breeze and rustle of grass were created just for her.
Off to her right Roy, a fine, handsome, strapping young man, has two horses saddled and ready for a morning ride. He smiles and winks at her. "Hi Grandma. Thought you might want to ride Beau today. I've got he and Harvey all ready... and you know that #7 has to tag along!" He offers to help her mount but she raises her eyebrow and gives him "that look". Nope. No help needed thank you very much! The smell of the leather reminds her of Grumpa cleaning the saddles and as she mounts the saddle creaks sharp and clear. They ride, they talk of love and of people oh so dear to both of them. Hours pass. They ride on and that silly 'ol burro, (#7) just plods along behind them. They laugh and joke, they smile and remember. It's getting close to noon now so Roy takes her along the creek, to the swimming hole, so the horses can drink. A rustle in the Oak brush catches their attention and low and behold, a pack of dogs emerge! Pal, Herman, Tuffy, Ranger, Shep, and even that mangy 'ol dog Blue have found them. The dogs jump and yap as she dismounts, then cover her with kisses. Warm puppy breath greets her. Her soul is warm, her heart is satisfied.
"Come on Grandma. We've got to get 'er done here. The pups will be along, don't you worry now" he says with a smile. Back into the meadow, along a mountain lake, over a rise and they see it. Why it's a party! No, it's a picnic. Well, who on earth sets up a picnic here? Her Mom and Dad, her brother, her Grandpa Blakely, her aunts and uncles. It's amazing! Everyone is here! They eat, they laugh, they relax in the warm afternoon sun. It's not too hot. Just enough to warm your bones and not so much as to make you sweat. Hmmmm. Just right. The day has been perfect. As sunset approaches her Mom takes her by the hand and they climb a ridge. It is the perfect Arizona sunset. Colors only God could paint. No one speaks. No one wants to interrupt the sacred beauty of the moment.
A flash. A glow. A feeling of perfect love surrounds her. She knows the fullness of God's presence has come. Her soul is warm, it is as if she is being enveloped in a gigantic hug. "Well done, good and faithful one. Welcome! Here there is only perfect love and joy. Come on, let us show you around. I think you're going to like it here." God winks and smiles.
This is how I picture my Mom's graduation to glory this past Sunday night. I kinda think God's okay with my creative license....
K
Our scene opens on a dense, thick wooded hillside mixed with Ponderosa Pines, Cottonwoods and Quaking Aspen trees. Thick Oak shrubs color the forest floor. A deep fog has settled in and rests heavy over the woods. Into this, a beautiful, fair skinned, red-haired, beauty of a woman winds her way down a thin trail through the thick woods. She is leaving behind misty figures waving goodbye, but she can still hear their soft voices, warm with love. As she emerges from the woods the warm sun catches her hair and it shimmers like dark polished copper. She steps onto the meadow and is immediately overwhelmed with the vast magnitude and beauty of what she sees: a field bursting with spring flowers, rimmed by towering snow capped mountains. The colors have never been more beautiful and the sounds of the forest are as clear as a church bell on a quiet Sunday morning. She can hear the sound of a creek gurgling close by, not too loud, as the water churns and flows over the rocks. It's the kind of creek she remembers from her youth, and her heart and mind are suddenly filled with warm memories of playing at Workman Creek with her brothers and sisters. The air is crisp and clean; just a whisper of a breeze. Taking a deep breath, it feels as though she has never really taken a breath before, certainly nothing like this one! The scene is captivating, her senses alive. It's as if every flower, every bird, breeze and rustle of grass were created just for her.
Off to her right Roy, a fine, handsome, strapping young man, has two horses saddled and ready for a morning ride. He smiles and winks at her. "Hi Grandma. Thought you might want to ride Beau today. I've got he and Harvey all ready... and you know that #7 has to tag along!" He offers to help her mount but she raises her eyebrow and gives him "that look". Nope. No help needed thank you very much! The smell of the leather reminds her of Grumpa cleaning the saddles and as she mounts the saddle creaks sharp and clear. They ride, they talk of love and of people oh so dear to both of them. Hours pass. They ride on and that silly 'ol burro, (#7) just plods along behind them. They laugh and joke, they smile and remember. It's getting close to noon now so Roy takes her along the creek, to the swimming hole, so the horses can drink. A rustle in the Oak brush catches their attention and low and behold, a pack of dogs emerge! Pal, Herman, Tuffy, Ranger, Shep, and even that mangy 'ol dog Blue have found them. The dogs jump and yap as she dismounts, then cover her with kisses. Warm puppy breath greets her. Her soul is warm, her heart is satisfied.
"Come on Grandma. We've got to get 'er done here. The pups will be along, don't you worry now" he says with a smile. Back into the meadow, along a mountain lake, over a rise and they see it. Why it's a party! No, it's a picnic. Well, who on earth sets up a picnic here? Her Mom and Dad, her brother, her Grandpa Blakely, her aunts and uncles. It's amazing! Everyone is here! They eat, they laugh, they relax in the warm afternoon sun. It's not too hot. Just enough to warm your bones and not so much as to make you sweat. Hmmmm. Just right. The day has been perfect. As sunset approaches her Mom takes her by the hand and they climb a ridge. It is the perfect Arizona sunset. Colors only God could paint. No one speaks. No one wants to interrupt the sacred beauty of the moment.
A flash. A glow. A feeling of perfect love surrounds her. She knows the fullness of God's presence has come. Her soul is warm, it is as if she is being enveloped in a gigantic hug. "Well done, good and faithful one. Welcome! Here there is only perfect love and joy. Come on, let us show you around. I think you're going to like it here." God winks and smiles.
This is how I picture my Mom's graduation to glory this past Sunday night. I kinda think God's okay with my creative license....
K
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Deaf, Dumb & Blind
Isaiah 58 is one of those pieces of scripture that you probably read at some point, but it didn't really register with your brain what it was saying. Well, we used it for our prayer time at Emmaus last week, focusing on why God does not always respond to our prayers; or at least the way we want. One of the main ideas Isaiah is sharing with the folks is that God may hear us (praying), but is not listening because we fail to address issues of justice, equity and relief. Think about that. When we ignore people, ignore the injustice they are experiencing, God may just not listen to our religious words, our pleadings, our petitions, cause they just sound trite compared to what is happening around us all the time.
When I want God's help but ignore those around me who are victims of abuse, why should God listen to me? Especially if I am not being honest in my praying. I found Isaiah's words quite shocking. It kind of puts me on notice.
I encourage you to dig out your bible and read the entire chapter of Isaiah 58. It seems pretty clear. God is not interested in our religious words, our religious practices if we ignore poverty, the poor, anything that has to do with justice, equity and/or relief. Yikes.
We challenged each other at Emmaus, during our prayer practice, to name those things, those issues of justice, equity, relief that rattle around in our brains; that make deep imprints on our hearts, but that we never deal with or do anything about because it seems just too much; just too big; just too, too...? I don't think it is our heart's desire to act deaf, dumb and blind to what goes around us on a daily basis. I don't think we want our words or spiritual talk to be empty and shallow. I just think it all just seems too much, too depressing, so I'll say the words and hope they stick to something out there, maybe even to God.
What's on your heart? What picks away at you but you've never explored how to address it? Human slavery? Battered women? Children in poverty... in your own backyard? Environmental issues? Economic justice issues? What is it? There is power is speaking that word and giving it to God. What's on your heart?
-M-
When I want God's help but ignore those around me who are victims of abuse, why should God listen to me? Especially if I am not being honest in my praying. I found Isaiah's words quite shocking. It kind of puts me on notice.
I encourage you to dig out your bible and read the entire chapter of Isaiah 58. It seems pretty clear. God is not interested in our religious words, our religious practices if we ignore poverty, the poor, anything that has to do with justice, equity and/or relief. Yikes.
We challenged each other at Emmaus, during our prayer practice, to name those things, those issues of justice, equity, relief that rattle around in our brains; that make deep imprints on our hearts, but that we never deal with or do anything about because it seems just too much; just too big; just too, too...? I don't think it is our heart's desire to act deaf, dumb and blind to what goes around us on a daily basis. I don't think we want our words or spiritual talk to be empty and shallow. I just think it all just seems too much, too depressing, so I'll say the words and hope they stick to something out there, maybe even to God.
What's on your heart? What picks away at you but you've never explored how to address it? Human slavery? Battered women? Children in poverty... in your own backyard? Environmental issues? Economic justice issues? What is it? There is power is speaking that word and giving it to God. What's on your heart?
-M-
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Punch
UUMPH!!!
The first time I heard that sound, it came out of my own mouth after I landed smack down flat on my back after attempting to swing and skip two bars on the jungle gym at school when I was like in second grade. Uumph! Then you find yourself gasping for a breath as hard as you can and for just a brief moment, you think you're going to die. But......finally...you take in just enough air to fill your lungs again and thoughts of death go poof!
I've either made or heard that sound numerous times throughout my advancing years. I made it when Mike Rolland and I were goofing after some boxing movie we watched at kids and Mike delivered a blow that chipped on of my front teeth...uumph!!! It's the sound I've made when I have been pushed down under a horrific wave, thinking that I'll never make it to the surface again, but then...you do and what escapes from your lips is, uumph, then a big deep breath.
That's the sound of the "Punch." It comes as unexpectant as news that delivers a blow. Sometimes you can hear it coming, other times it is silent. Whichever way it comes; it comes and knocks the air out of you. It messes with your equilibrium and you often end up shaking your head to make sure it's still intact.
The Punch is part of life. I don't like it, never have. It came this past Sunday morning, 15 minutes before I was to stand in front of the congregation and say, "...the Lord be with you" which the congregation then says back to me, "...and also with you." My mom-in-law's cancer is back. Uumph!!! Kathleen called me to tell me. Uumph! Then I get to stand and tell folks that God is with them. Uumph! Then I tell them about the mom-in-law, about Kathleen, about Kathleen's dad and her brothers who love their wife, who love their mother; all of who hoped for better outcomes than this. Uumph!!!
I really have no words to explain the Punch. "The Lord be with you..." I certainly hope so...
-M-
Saturday, February 5, 2011
A Desert Rat
I'm a desert rat.
I grew up in the southwest sun and I like it. I like the warm yellow glow of the southwest sun. I like the sun shining brightly through my window early in the morning. I like the feel of the sun on my bones. I like that on a ridge or mesa you can see (what seems like) forever. I like the way the southwest sun makes the red clay marble and glow. I like the southwest sunset, the way the sky lights up as if it's an orchestra playing beautiful music to God. I like the mountains in the southwest, the way the ponderosa pines allow you to just go walking, no trail needed, just walk in the woods. I like the desert in bloom, I doubt much is prettier. I like sitting by a stream listening to the sounds of children laughing and playing, while the sun glistens on the water.
And I like Mexican food. I like the fresh tortillas, paper thin, soft and hot off the burner. I like fresh chips made from those same tortillas, fried crispy and served with fresh salsa. I like a really good taco with shredded meat seasoned just right, cooked in the fresh corn tortilla, served really hot with incredibly crisp lettuce on top. As I write I can taste the savory seasonings and feel the joyous times at the table. I like a really good margarita, with salt on the rim. Well, Mexican food just isn't good, Mexican food just isn't right without the salt. Really good crunchy salt.
Light and salt.
Both warm my soul and make my heart smile. Both calm my spirit. Both make me feel safe and happy. Both bring up some of my favorite memories.
I am called to be both in the world around me.
Interesting that God would use some of my favorite things to show me who I am to be.
K
K
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Blessings
At Emmaus House last weekend, during our community time of prayer, we focused upon the beatitudes in Matthew 5:1-12. I asked in what ways does one feel "blessed." What followed was, in some ways, pretty typical responses: health, family, having a job, children/grandchildren, a roof over one's head, etc. Then I read this quote (for the life of me, now I cannot remember where I found it):
"Blessings come from being in God's presence, not as a reward for either suffering or good works..."
The beatitudes in Matthew give us one of the first strong indications that God's Reign/Kingdom, that Jesus comes to proclaim and live out, is totally upside down from the present worldview. I mean really, how is one blessed by being persecuted for doing the right thing? How about people who have had a loved one die? Tell me how that's a blessing to find one's self in a state of loss, pain and mourning? You get the idea...
Maybe there's something else going on with this idea of blessing...
Experiencing poverty, mourning, hunger, etc, isn't in itself a sign of blessing, but people can count on God's presence with them in the midst of those things. Likewise, those who act with meekness, mercy, purity and a desire for peace, find themselves where God is already present and where God is already at work.
God is already present...God is already at work. That makes it kind of about God and not me and my notions of blessing. With God present and already at work, blessing is not about me being a good little boy and getting what I deserve. With God present and already at work, blessing is not about me getting rewarded for my enduring my pain, my poverty, my mourning, etc, with some kind of numbing, silent dignity.
Our blessings in this life is that God is present, through ALL of it. Our blessings in this life, when I actually find myself being a peacemaker, being present when people are in need our mercy or find themselves in need of righteousness & justice, is that God is not already present, but God is already at work within those life situations; whether we recognize God's presence or not. That's blessing!
When you pray this week, maybe instead of giving God the list of needs, wants, desires, etc, we give God thanks for the blessings we have expereinced because God is present and God is already at work...
Give us eyes to see you, O God of grace and love...
-m-
"Blessings come from being in God's presence, not as a reward for either suffering or good works..."
The beatitudes in Matthew give us one of the first strong indications that God's Reign/Kingdom, that Jesus comes to proclaim and live out, is totally upside down from the present worldview. I mean really, how is one blessed by being persecuted for doing the right thing? How about people who have had a loved one die? Tell me how that's a blessing to find one's self in a state of loss, pain and mourning? You get the idea...
Maybe there's something else going on with this idea of blessing...
Experiencing poverty, mourning, hunger, etc, isn't in itself a sign of blessing, but people can count on God's presence with them in the midst of those things. Likewise, those who act with meekness, mercy, purity and a desire for peace, find themselves where God is already present and where God is already at work.
God is already present...God is already at work. That makes it kind of about God and not me and my notions of blessing. With God present and already at work, blessing is not about me being a good little boy and getting what I deserve. With God present and already at work, blessing is not about me getting rewarded for my enduring my pain, my poverty, my mourning, etc, with some kind of numbing, silent dignity.
Our blessings in this life is that God is present, through ALL of it. Our blessings in this life, when I actually find myself being a peacemaker, being present when people are in need our mercy or find themselves in need of righteousness & justice, is that God is not already present, but God is already at work within those life situations; whether we recognize God's presence or not. That's blessing!
When you pray this week, maybe instead of giving God the list of needs, wants, desires, etc, we give God thanks for the blessings we have expereinced because God is present and God is already at work...
Give us eyes to see you, O God of grace and love...
-m-
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Come on in the water is great!
When I was a little child growing up in Arizona, my grandparents had an olympic size swimming pool in their backyard. My brothers and I were the only grandkids at that time, so we were pretty loved on by our aunts, uncles and well, everyone. Looking back, I am amazed at the time they took doting on us and playing with us, especially in the pool. I remember, as I was learning to swim, I would stand on the lip of that massive pool, looking for someone to jump to. As I stood there, I could barely contain all the excitement inside me, it would build and build until I felt I would just explode if I didn't get to jump in! Then, when I caught someone's eye, and I knew they were looking, well... ready or not, here I came! I would jump without any reservation, no holds barred, toward them. I was totally secure that those hands, that seemed so large to my little body, would capture me securely and laughter and joy was an absolute upon my rise to the surface. One might say, I jumped with reckless abandon... into the safety of those grown up arms.
I was safe and I knew I was safe. I was totally secure in the love my family had for me. I knew I was precious and adored. They had communicated that love in a hundred different ways. I was secure in their love and care of me so I could risk everything. The thought of danger or harm never entered my thoughts.
Can I just say: Yeeehaaw!
That is some serious love. What would I do if I could really take that in. Who would I be if I could really dig deep and live out an understanding of that chapter? Would I be a Francis of Assisi? Or maybe a Mother Theresa kind? Hmm... Maybe I would I be Richard Foster or Dallas Willard? (Two of my personal fav's) Probably not. It is intriguing to ponder who I would be if I could actualize the safety and love God expresses for me in Romans 8... with no thought of danger. No risk of failing. *sigh*
Seriously, I truly would like to do a better job of internalizing chapter 8. I would trust God more, love deeper and fear less. Consequently, I think I would risk more and laugh easier. Wouldn't that be AWESOME??!!!
It occurs to me that if I could translate the safety and security I had as I jumped into the safety of my families arms, well...hmm...
K
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
A hope or a wish?
Is there a difference between being hopeful and wishful? Church folk like to use the word hope a lot. Is our hope as Jesus followers just a different way of using wishful thinking? I sometimes wonder the intent on how it is said and what the hearer actually hears through the filter of their life. Are we really hope-full people or are we merely sending out "good thoughts and intentions" as if we are giving words to wishful thoughts?
I know for myself, I use the word hope quite a bit these days.
Here in the soggy northwest, I hope for sun.
I hope Mark's work in ministry is fulfilling.
I hope Mark's dissertation is received well.
I hope my kids and grandkids continue to grow in grace.
I hope Boom settles into high school well.
I hope my health is good.
I hope Mark's folks health is good.
I hope My Mom's days are full of laughter, joy and peace as she deals with her cancer.
I hope the same for my Dad who is not only my Mom's caregiver but her support.
As I said, I hope for a lot. But I really don't want my hopes to be just positive, kind thoughts, sent out to the universe in some version of cosmic karma. I want my hopes to be placed in the very heart of God based in love, and safe in the goodness of God's character. I want to be all in, so to speak, so my hopes aren't about me, but are about the One in whom I place those precious hopes.
Henri Nouwen writes in With Open Hands that one of his students separated hope and wishful thinking this way;
I see hope as an attitude where everything stays open before me. Not that I don't think of my future in those moments, but I think of it in an entirely different way. Daring to stay open to whatever will come to me today, tomorrow, two months from now, or a year from now- that is hope. To go fearlessly into things without knowing how they'll turn out, to keep on going, even when something doesn't work out the first time, to have trust in whatever you are doing- that is living in hope.
Well, you know I am captured by going fearlessly into the future! Not that I can maintain that hope continually, of course... But I am on the journey, intentionally risking and loving (albeit imperfectly), I am hoping in the very character of God.
I shall be hoping and praying for my Mom and Dad, Mark's folks and Carrie tonight. Not wishful thoughts, but a deep hope in God's goodness for them.
And blessings on you as you hope. May you also hope in the depth of God's love.
K
I know for myself, I use the word hope quite a bit these days.
Here in the soggy northwest, I hope for sun.
I hope Mark's work in ministry is fulfilling.
I hope Mark's dissertation is received well.
I hope my kids and grandkids continue to grow in grace.
I hope Boom settles into high school well.
I hope my health is good.
I hope Mark's folks health is good.
I hope My Mom's days are full of laughter, joy and peace as she deals with her cancer.
I hope the same for my Dad who is not only my Mom's caregiver but her support.
As I said, I hope for a lot. But I really don't want my hopes to be just positive, kind thoughts, sent out to the universe in some version of cosmic karma. I want my hopes to be placed in the very heart of God based in love, and safe in the goodness of God's character. I want to be all in, so to speak, so my hopes aren't about me, but are about the One in whom I place those precious hopes.
Henri Nouwen writes in With Open Hands that one of his students separated hope and wishful thinking this way;
I see hope as an attitude where everything stays open before me. Not that I don't think of my future in those moments, but I think of it in an entirely different way. Daring to stay open to whatever will come to me today, tomorrow, two months from now, or a year from now- that is hope. To go fearlessly into things without knowing how they'll turn out, to keep on going, even when something doesn't work out the first time, to have trust in whatever you are doing- that is living in hope.
Well, you know I am captured by going fearlessly into the future! Not that I can maintain that hope continually, of course... But I am on the journey, intentionally risking and loving (albeit imperfectly), I am hoping in the very character of God.
I shall be hoping and praying for my Mom and Dad, Mark's folks and Carrie tonight. Not wishful thoughts, but a deep hope in God's goodness for them.
And blessings on you as you hope. May you also hope in the depth of God's love.
K
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)