I remember hearing a woman whom I have great respect for tell me a few years back that love doesn't always know when to stop fighting. She said love by nature keeps fighting as long as there is even a mustard seed of hope remaining. She was telling me this as she was journeying with her son through all of his struggles with the law. What struck me at the time was that I watched her struggle - she knew her son was making bad decisions, she wasn't defending his actions. But as a mother, love rises to the surface to fight. Her love for her son was what allowed her to fight her inward struggle of not completely walking away from him. She chose tough love - she had to make those hard choices of watching him leave the home - even turning him into the cops at one point. But love always fought to remain within her spirit because that's what love does.
Though I've never had children, I believe this to be true. From the very voice that breathed man into existence, is the same being in which love came. The Father's nature of love is one that doesn't stop fighting.
It's hard to let go of what we have loved so deeply and hoped for so strongly. Intuitively love holds tight and steadfast sometimes even beyond the point of wisdom. And this I know for a fact, love doesn't always make sense. It isn't always a clear path to walk. Love is wide and full of dynamics that are sometimes just out of reach for us to understand. I guess that because love is who the Lord is, there is a mysterious depth to it that transcends so much of what we see and cognitively can comprehend.
When you love, you really do open yourself to a vulnerability that otherwise no person in their right mind would choose outside of the fact that we were created to love and to be loved.
I suppose love was never meant to be an easy journey rather a journey taking us deeper into the character of God.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Rite of Passage
I was privileged to spend the last two days with a few other women and a couple of 16 year old girls to celebrate a very special young lady's "coming of age." We gathered around her, blessed her with words, covered her in prayer and simply had FUN together. It was precious and beautiful to me. This is one thing our Western culture has unfortunately not valued. But oh! how valuable it is.
I had a big 16th birthday party...and in a sense it was a "coming of age" party - the intent behind it was to celebrate the life I was stepping into.
Being on the other end this time around and being one of the ladies that was able to speak into her life, was very emotional and very moving. I love that there are those who are seeking to do this better...to understand the significance of under-girding and preparing our children for adulthood. There is a spiritual law of sowing and reaping that kicks into place when we do this. Sowing into the future will reap beautiful blessing.
I had a big 16th birthday party...and in a sense it was a "coming of age" party - the intent behind it was to celebrate the life I was stepping into.
Being on the other end this time around and being one of the ladies that was able to speak into her life, was very emotional and very moving. I love that there are those who are seeking to do this better...to understand the significance of under-girding and preparing our children for adulthood. There is a spiritual law of sowing and reaping that kicks into place when we do this. Sowing into the future will reap beautiful blessing.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Dream With Me
I love dreaming. Here are some of my dreams:
- To have all my family come visit me in Canada at least once while I'm living here (however long that may be). I'm quite proud of Ottawa.
- To camp across North America for a summer
- To scuba dive in the ocean
- To run a 10k in less than 50 minutes
- To go to Israel
- To be apart of developing systems in third world countries that provide sustainable, eco-friendly living
- Downsize my possessions to even less
- Learn to enjoy winter
- To not be a crotchety old person
- Write and publish a book
- Allow my faith to grow by taking more risks for the Kingdom
- To be able to calculate numbers in my head
- Learn another language well
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Another chapter in my book
Let me know your thoughts...
______________________________________
There were a lot of us. There always has been for as long as I can remember. We were often mixed up, names assigned to the wrong person. Ages would get lost after the first two were stated. It just became fact for me really. I simply had a lot of sisters. My home was complicated in dynamics. Though, I didn’t know that until I got older. When I was little, it was grand. I had older sisters and I had younger ones. But only ever sisters. We’d lay at night in bed (sometimes sharing beds) and would giggle, laugh, snort and do anything except go to sleep. We used to take road trips as a family in this big van that had a table in the back and the seats laid down to make beds (back when seat belts were more of a good idea than a law). I had no other frame of reference than the large, unique family I had. I remember my first few months at college where I wrestled with a very strange and unfamiliar sensation - men. I had never had to really deal with guys on a regular basis. I had never had brothers. And at the time, it all seemed so strange, their behavior, their communication, and their thought patterns. I had a hard time reconciling the world of women to the world of men. I just didn’t get it. I recall (with embarrassment) multiple conversations with my college guy friends about why they did what they did; emphasizing that I thought what they did was just ridiculous. And then I read a book - a really good book. One question has remained with me and has stuck out to me years later since the book, “Why do I expect men to behave and respond like women?” Good question. My frame of reference had to shift. I was wrong.
I’ve always been more black and white than grey in my thinking. For instance, I had this stuffed animal when I little. I insisted it was a stuffed donkey therefore his name was “Donkey.” My family tried, unsuccessfully to convince me it was actually a rabbit. I would have none of their suggestions. It was, without doubt and most obviously, a donkey. I pulled Donkey out of his dusty, old home a few years ago and realized, Donkey should have always indeed been Rabbit. In my mind, there were no other options, no other alternatives. It was as it was. Trying to re-convince me of any other opinions is like trying to stop a freight train. However, I am told, once I’m proven wrong, I openly admit I’m wrong and move forward with corrected thinking - never looking back to lick my wounds.
The make up of a human being, who we innately are - what we do, say, speak - the life long controversy of nature vs. nurture - am I the outspoken, black and white girl who is unmovingly confident until proven wrong because of my upbringing? Because of the DNA from two also very outspoken parents who hold strong beliefs? Am I me because of my culture? Yeah, sure! Why not? Seems obvious to me that all those things make up who I am. Would I have been more balanced in my approach to men if I’d had brothers? Yeah - probably. Would I be so black and white if I had been born in Canada rather than the States? Maybe not - but maybe yes? Would I love embracing the frustrating, joyous lifestyle of living in community if I had not come from a large, wonderfully strange family? I probably wouldn’t have known the beauty of heartache and the joy of sharing in dreams if I hadn’t. I can’t complain about my heritage, about my nurture, It is me. Though, those that know me, may have some complaints about my nature. For that, the only consolation I have to offer is that I am a working progress.
______________________________________
There were a lot of us. There always has been for as long as I can remember. We were often mixed up, names assigned to the wrong person. Ages would get lost after the first two were stated. It just became fact for me really. I simply had a lot of sisters. My home was complicated in dynamics. Though, I didn’t know that until I got older. When I was little, it was grand. I had older sisters and I had younger ones. But only ever sisters. We’d lay at night in bed (sometimes sharing beds) and would giggle, laugh, snort and do anything except go to sleep. We used to take road trips as a family in this big van that had a table in the back and the seats laid down to make beds (back when seat belts were more of a good idea than a law). I had no other frame of reference than the large, unique family I had. I remember my first few months at college where I wrestled with a very strange and unfamiliar sensation - men. I had never had to really deal with guys on a regular basis. I had never had brothers. And at the time, it all seemed so strange, their behavior, their communication, and their thought patterns. I had a hard time reconciling the world of women to the world of men. I just didn’t get it. I recall (with embarrassment) multiple conversations with my college guy friends about why they did what they did; emphasizing that I thought what they did was just ridiculous. And then I read a book - a really good book. One question has remained with me and has stuck out to me years later since the book, “Why do I expect men to behave and respond like women?” Good question. My frame of reference had to shift. I was wrong.
I’ve always been more black and white than grey in my thinking. For instance, I had this stuffed animal when I little. I insisted it was a stuffed donkey therefore his name was “Donkey.” My family tried, unsuccessfully to convince me it was actually a rabbit. I would have none of their suggestions. It was, without doubt and most obviously, a donkey. I pulled Donkey out of his dusty, old home a few years ago and realized, Donkey should have always indeed been Rabbit. In my mind, there were no other options, no other alternatives. It was as it was. Trying to re-convince me of any other opinions is like trying to stop a freight train. However, I am told, once I’m proven wrong, I openly admit I’m wrong and move forward with corrected thinking - never looking back to lick my wounds.
The make up of a human being, who we innately are - what we do, say, speak - the life long controversy of nature vs. nurture - am I the outspoken, black and white girl who is unmovingly confident until proven wrong because of my upbringing? Because of the DNA from two also very outspoken parents who hold strong beliefs? Am I me because of my culture? Yeah, sure! Why not? Seems obvious to me that all those things make up who I am. Would I have been more balanced in my approach to men if I’d had brothers? Yeah - probably. Would I be so black and white if I had been born in Canada rather than the States? Maybe not - but maybe yes? Would I love embracing the frustrating, joyous lifestyle of living in community if I had not come from a large, wonderfully strange family? I probably wouldn’t have known the beauty of heartache and the joy of sharing in dreams if I hadn’t. I can’t complain about my heritage, about my nurture, It is me. Though, those that know me, may have some complaints about my nature. For that, the only consolation I have to offer is that I am a working progress.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
What Will We Get Out of It?
"Then Peter said to him, 'We've given up everything to follow you. What will we get out of it?"
Matthew 19:27
Apparently, I've been asking the Lord this same question. I didn't know I was, until He started answering it. Inside the core of me, quietly sitting, waiting, watching, asking - this question has lived. Secret things are always a surprise when they show themselves. Through circumstances around me of watching friends walk through incredible grief and learning to pray as I've never done before, I began seeing surfaces of this question. New dimensions coming into light when I tiptoed onto a territory that for so long I've had a lot of fear in - trusting the Lord that when I open my hear to love, He will hold my heart. Again, this question becoming more loud and I becoming more aware of its existence inside of me.
You see, the spaces in which the Lord takes us are not often where we first choose to go. And its within the confines of a space that is uncomfortable, awkward and unfamiliar that I am forced to turn with full face to look to the One that brought me there. Many times I would turn and not get a satisfying response as to why He brought me into this place. Then this question lurking in the chambers of my belief system has finally awakened to show itself. I am beginning to realize, I really wasn't wanting to know why the Lord would bring me to these unfamiliar and strange places that I wouldn't have chosen to go on my own, but the earthquake question has always been, "What will I get out of it?"
In my world, I am all about me. In the disciples world, Jesus was trying to bring them out of the burdensome yoke of living in a world that centered around them. Peters asks this question - this question that is spilling over with unspoken emotion. The thing is, I don't actually live in my world. It has nothing to do with me. I chose His Kingdom a long time ago. Its simply been the patience of the Father that He has allowed me to journey this place to finally begin to understand that the question I've been asking is near-sighted. With much grace, Jesus answers that heaven awaits us. What more is there?
I've stopped for a rest on the journey. I am sitting on a bench, leaning down, plucking a blade of grass. As I sit straight to look at this one blade of grass, I look past the green blade to see beyond it to the road that is still ahead of me. I re-focus on the green blade. Plucked from its life-giving source, it is without hope. It withers the longer I hold it. I continue to look at the blade. Day becomes evening. That blade of grass holds nothing for me. If I choose to continue to focus on it, there is no hope for me in the end. It has nothing. I look up again, past the withering blade to the road ahead. Promise is beyond. I put down the blade of grass. I still sit on the bench looking ahead. I know that hope is beyond me - I choose to shift my focus beyond.
I couldn't tell you what will be met at the next leg of the journey. Despair, rain, bears, sunshine...but I trust there will be more benches to sit and rest and wait. I may not always walk as as quick as I'd like while journeying. I'd like to be there faster, but on this side of the journey, I am still human. As I stand up to start walking again, I ask the Father to bind to my heart the hope that He waits for me at the end. The glorious end when I will finally see its always been about Him.
Matthew 19:27
Apparently, I've been asking the Lord this same question. I didn't know I was, until He started answering it. Inside the core of me, quietly sitting, waiting, watching, asking - this question has lived. Secret things are always a surprise when they show themselves. Through circumstances around me of watching friends walk through incredible grief and learning to pray as I've never done before, I began seeing surfaces of this question. New dimensions coming into light when I tiptoed onto a territory that for so long I've had a lot of fear in - trusting the Lord that when I open my hear to love, He will hold my heart. Again, this question becoming more loud and I becoming more aware of its existence inside of me.
You see, the spaces in which the Lord takes us are not often where we first choose to go. And its within the confines of a space that is uncomfortable, awkward and unfamiliar that I am forced to turn with full face to look to the One that brought me there. Many times I would turn and not get a satisfying response as to why He brought me into this place. Then this question lurking in the chambers of my belief system has finally awakened to show itself. I am beginning to realize, I really wasn't wanting to know why the Lord would bring me to these unfamiliar and strange places that I wouldn't have chosen to go on my own, but the earthquake question has always been, "What will I get out of it?"
In my world, I am all about me. In the disciples world, Jesus was trying to bring them out of the burdensome yoke of living in a world that centered around them. Peters asks this question - this question that is spilling over with unspoken emotion. The thing is, I don't actually live in my world. It has nothing to do with me. I chose His Kingdom a long time ago. Its simply been the patience of the Father that He has allowed me to journey this place to finally begin to understand that the question I've been asking is near-sighted. With much grace, Jesus answers that heaven awaits us. What more is there?
I've stopped for a rest on the journey. I am sitting on a bench, leaning down, plucking a blade of grass. As I sit straight to look at this one blade of grass, I look past the green blade to see beyond it to the road that is still ahead of me. I re-focus on the green blade. Plucked from its life-giving source, it is without hope. It withers the longer I hold it. I continue to look at the blade. Day becomes evening. That blade of grass holds nothing for me. If I choose to continue to focus on it, there is no hope for me in the end. It has nothing. I look up again, past the withering blade to the road ahead. Promise is beyond. I put down the blade of grass. I still sit on the bench looking ahead. I know that hope is beyond me - I choose to shift my focus beyond.
I couldn't tell you what will be met at the next leg of the journey. Despair, rain, bears, sunshine...but I trust there will be more benches to sit and rest and wait. I may not always walk as as quick as I'd like while journeying. I'd like to be there faster, but on this side of the journey, I am still human. As I stand up to start walking again, I ask the Father to bind to my heart the hope that He waits for me at the end. The glorious end when I will finally see its always been about Him.
Friday, February 18, 2011
A Life for A Life
My cousin, Clint wrote this recent blog on his wife's (Jessica) blog page. I encourage you to read it. They have a young son and a newborn daughter. You may cry. You will be moved.
http://www.jessicacouncil.blogspot.com/
http://www.jessicacouncil.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Dream That Wasn't Supposed to Be
In college, it was never a dream of mine to be single at 30 and live in a room and to be busy working many jobs, none of which "pay" in the traditional sense. I just assumed I'd be married by now, with kids and a home with a pretty fence and a yard and a hamster. What I didn't know then that I know now is that I'm so glad that "dream" wasn't really MY dream. It was what I assumed every woman's dream was. Now, 12 years later, I am just beginning to live my dream. I wouldn't reverse any of my life to get where I am now. Not a chance.
As life continues to unfold for me, I believe the Lord has been preparing me for something. I believe these 12 years have been preparation. I've lived simply and now I can't imagine living any other way. I'm still sorting this out and have no idea what this will look like or how it will all unfold, but I can tell you this - I don't want the American dream.
As a woman I appreciate pretty things - I was created to nurture beauty so of course I love beauty! I appreciate that we as women get excited about pretty dresses, matching living room sets, a fun array of shoes, etc. Nothing wrong with that...however, I'm realizing I want to create beauty differently. I want to leave a different legacy not in what I wear or own, but in what I give away. In how I steward my finances, my relationships, and even resources here on planet earth.
I am asking the Lord, as I look at living options, how can I continue to live simply while stewarding well and at the same time creating beauty in a radical way?
Lots of things are stirring inside of me...this is a new perspective for me and I'm brimming to see how the Lord unfolds this for me. I am so glad I'm living the dream that "was never supposed to be the dream."
As life continues to unfold for me, I believe the Lord has been preparing me for something. I believe these 12 years have been preparation. I've lived simply and now I can't imagine living any other way. I'm still sorting this out and have no idea what this will look like or how it will all unfold, but I can tell you this - I don't want the American dream.
As a woman I appreciate pretty things - I was created to nurture beauty so of course I love beauty! I appreciate that we as women get excited about pretty dresses, matching living room sets, a fun array of shoes, etc. Nothing wrong with that...however, I'm realizing I want to create beauty differently. I want to leave a different legacy not in what I wear or own, but in what I give away. In how I steward my finances, my relationships, and even resources here on planet earth.
I am asking the Lord, as I look at living options, how can I continue to live simply while stewarding well and at the same time creating beauty in a radical way?
Lots of things are stirring inside of me...this is a new perspective for me and I'm brimming to see how the Lord unfolds this for me. I am so glad I'm living the dream that "was never supposed to be the dream."
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