Heartbeat January 29, 2010

The room itself is fairly unremarkable – small, with tall ceilings, old, slouchy furniture, and bookshelves jammed with old books, new magazines, games, and plastic containers of fabric, it feels cozy and casual. Its location, off the kitchen, provides us with optimal services, a full refrigerator, a close bathroom, and a door that allows us to keep the rest of the world at bay.

It’s the heart of our home. Ironically, it’s one of the smallest rooms in our house, yet it’s the one room we use the most. The couch is second-hand, the chairs several years old. We don’t dare move the “good” furniture in here, lest we have to give up our movie and pizza nights or popcorn and soda snacks during family game night. The carpet is 16 years old, and has been “signed” by two dogs, eight kids (including four teens), and many friends.

This room has become symbolic of our new life. Our next home will be much smaller than this one, and while we worried at first about how we’d adjust to less space, this room has shown us we will be fine. We prefer to hang out here, together, someone on the computer, someone reading a book, someone watching tv or talking. Being in each others’ company, sharing our days, laughing at silly jokes, or just enjoying the closeness and stillness of silence has brought us closer.

When we open the door and move through the house, we see how much space we aren’t using – the formal living room, the formal dining room – great spaces, nicely decorated, almost never used, except as through-ways to our bedrooms, the office, or the front door.

We will take this room with us when we move (not literally, of course). We will continue nurturing the closeness that has grown here, in cozy, casual, slouchy spaces.

Misnomer September 18, 2009

It’s been a long few months. After the decision was made, we thought we had hit bottom. Only, we didn’t really hit it as much as we floated to it. It wasn’t a fast fall, nor a hard landing. It was simply the realization that we had gone as far down that path as we could go, and needed to find a different path. We had followed the current path to its logical and inevitable conclusion.

Amazing, really, that hitting bottom is synonymous with reaching an ugly, painful place, because when we realized where we were, it was actually a place of peace, of acceptance, and of relief. Sure, it wasn’t where we wanted to end up, but it was a place we needed to get to, to see that part of our journey, to reach the end point. Not doing so meant we wouldn’t be ready for where we needed to go next.

So here we are, at the end of one journey, and ready to begin the next. It’s a very scary thing, stepping into the next pathway and continuing on our way. I found myself wanting to take pieces of the old journey with me, mostly how I had done things, what I thought I needed to do to make this journey successful, all my “security” blankets. I was wrong.

Last night, I had a dream in which God spoke to me. He asked me why I held onto the false security of my old ways and beliefs. “Do you doubt that I will take care of you?” He asked. I was stunned; I hadn’t realized that that’s exactly what I was doing, thinking I needed to do some of this myself, thereby limiting what He could do in my life and on this new journey. I woke up in tears, raw at the realization that in trying to take care of myself, I was doubting Him and keeping Him from working in my life.

I shared the dream with hubby this morning, and told him what I heard God telling me He wanted me to do. I was nervous because it was different than the plans hubby and I had made. Letting that go would be difficult, but we know that there is no choice for us than to follow God’s plan. We’ve tried making our own plans, even lied to ourselves that we were following His plan, but we weren’t. We are trying now, we are committed to actively seeking Him on this new journey, and in keeping out of His way, so He can take us where He wants us. I’ve dropped the old securities and comforts, opting instead to cling to Him.

I feel free, and ready to journey on.

Call me Kyle July 24, 2009

I have a confession to make; I love South Park. Sure, the language can be a little “mature” (how many times can they break the 3rd commandment anyway?), but the message can be so pitch perfect, it gives me pause.

My favorite episode hands down is “Cartmanland!”. In it, Eric Cartman, the most unlikable and selfish of the four main characters, inherits $1M from his grandmother and fulfills his dream of owning his own theme park. He does this solely because he’s tired of waiting in lines at other theme parks, and because he can now exclude his frenemies, Stan and Kyle, from his fun.

Kyle, the character I most identify with, becomes physically ill at the thought of Cartman being rewarded for being such a jerk and brown noser. “Where’s your logic, God?” he asks, trying to understand.

Where, indeed.

As Cartman continues his rise in fame, Kyle gets sicker and weaker, until the doctors declare there is nothing further they can do.

In an effort to rally their dying son, Kyle’s parents tell him the story of Job, and how Job continued to praise God even through all his losses at God’s hands. This prompts Kyle to ask, “What kind of God does something like that just to prove to Satan that Job loves Him?”

I feel that way sometimes; why do people who seemingly do nothing to deserve it have good things happen to them? I’ve made myself sick with envy and desire, and anger while watching someone who I know isn’t the nicest, or even most spiritual, do well, be given chance after chance after chance, or have things handed to them, while I seem to be grinding for every last crumb I can get. It doesn’t seem fair, but what I’m learning is that while it might not seem fair, it doesn’t have to be fair; that is never promised to us.

I’ve also learned that possessions and statuses and achievements don’t matter. What does matter is my relationship with God and my relationship(s) with my family and community. That’s where the true value is, the true meaning, and I’ve done a poor job lately in my relationships. I’ve been so sick (and tired) in my circumstances that I haven’t transcended them, haven’t used them to glorify God. I am learning, though, trying to glorify Him in all I do. But it’s difficult when I’m so focused on myself that I can’t see anyone else.

I know that unlike Kyle, I will probably not see the results of other people’s transactions, and I know I won’t feel better if I do see other people fall. That all misses the point anyway. I need to be above all the earthly trappings, and work at becoming who God would have me be. I am starting down that path again.

Compass July 21, 2009

We have a direction now; we’ve been lost for so long, waiting to be heard, to be rescued, even, and today we were given direction in the form of a choice. This wasn’t a choice we could have given ourselves, even if we hadn’t given up that right about a month ago; no, this was a decision that had to be made by someone else, someone more astute, probably more mature, and definitely someone who could put the emotion aside and just decide.

Interesting what happens when you force your own hand, when you give away that part of your life you struggle with the most. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating and freeing. It was truly out of our hands. We did grow anxious and nervous, and prayed almost constantly: “God, please lead us, let your will be known and done,” and then we waited.

Waiting isn’t something I’m naturally comfortable with. I’m a doer; give me something to do to pass the time, so I’m not left to consider and contemplate and wonder. There is a time for all of that, but I am uncomfortable doing so while waiting on and/or for someone else to decide.

The decision was made today, and its consequence is that now we have a choice. The good news is that we have about a year, give or take, in which to make it, and we have great support behind us. Oh, and we have God, who undoubtedly knows better than we do what we should choose.

So we will seek Him out, we will ask His guidance, and we will eventually choose, and we will do what we must to ensure that we don’t have to ever ask someone else to make the decision for us again.

Context July 5, 2009

I have to confess that I don’t know the bible as well as I should. In fact, it’s safe to say that I don’t know as much as the average elementary school child. I know the basics; I can name the gospels, in order; I know the difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament, and I even know the 10 commandments. I also know a lot of people who can answer just about any question with the appropriately related verse, bringing comfort and a little of God to the questioner. I’ve even looked up John 3:16 more times than I can count because for some reason when I see the rainbow-haired sports fan holding up the sign, I can’t remember it. Shameful, huh?

I do know my bible stories, however. One of my favorites, one that I’m living right now, is the story of Jacob wrestling with God.

I, too,  am wrestling with God. Not because of an estranged relative, as Jacob did, or because of our financial crisis, my stepson’s major loss, or even because of the medical issues my father, mother, husband and daughter are facing. In all those things, I have stepped out in faith and know the peace of trusting that God has us; God is with us; God loves us.

No, I am wrestling with God over my inability to know and do His will. In fact, I can’t seem to even discern it anymore. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? It does to me.

This wrestling match started about two months ago, when a friend of mine called me with what seemed to be the perfect opportunity for me. A local non-profit needed someone to coordinate their academic activities. Working for a non-profit fit what I thought God had put on my heart, which was to serve others, teaching and learning, and bringing glory to God through my activities and His blessings. So I went to the interview, which wasn’t really an interview, but more of a story sharing. I felt God there. I felt God’s presence through the entire process, felt this was God’s will – getting to know a group of people doing God’s work, working beside them, learning from them, helping spread His word. On the way home from the interview, I prayed, asking God what He would have me do. I heard His reply: “THIS”. Great, God wanted me to do this – wanted me to work here, wanted me to do this work.

Two weeks later, after meeting with the Director of the non-profit, and with the other staff, I waited, confident that I was following God’s will, and confident that I had listened to what He was telling me. As the waiting started (there were two other candidates), I spent time with God, praying again and again, “Your will, not mine.” I didn’t just pray it, I believed it, wanted it. I also continued to ask what He wanted me to do, and heard “THIS”. What great comfort it was to know I was doing His will!

Shortly after that, my friend suggested that I volunteer for the non-profit before hearing whether I was going to be hired. When I offered that up to God, I heard Him say “NO”. Okay, clear enough, when God says “NO”, He means “NO”, right? I didn’t sign up because I wanted to do His will. I found out later, however, that God was saying “NO” to getting the position, too, which is where the wrestling match started.

How could He say “NO”? Why go through all of that, just to get to “NO”? I thought I understood, I *know* I heard His voice, believed I was doing His will, not mine, and still I heard “NO”.  I felt Him there, in all the conversations, His presence a very real and tangible power.  I was so confused, then hurt, and then angry, very angry that I no longer felt I could trust what I heard from Him, to even know if it was Him – how could I have misread it so badly? Why “NO”? Why then?

So here I am, still wrestling. Sometimes I wrestle with God, sometimes I wrestle with myself, and sometimes I don’t speak to either of us. My faith walk has become a confusing, scary walk to take. Like Jacob, I want God near me, but I don’t want Him around. I want Him to leave me alone, yet want to know He’s still there, and still loves me. I long for the morning, for the end of the wrestling. But it’s still nighttime.

There are some stars in the sky, though. I do believe it was God’s will that lead me to the opportunity and to meeting the people who are doing His work. I’ve come to understand, to some extent, that “being present” means in every moment, not just during a process with a well-defined end. And I know that it isn’t just about me, but that I am part of other people’s faith walks, too. But I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit that the situation has shaken my faith. Not in God, but in my ability to listen for and hear Him. And so, the wrestling match continues.

Chaos June 30, 2009

Hubby’s home today, keeping the kids busy while I try to get some writing done. Amazing that the three of them thrive in chaos; they love the noise, activity, and free-flowing energy chaos brings them. They’re able to move and adapt to the ever-shifting activity and energy. They feed off each other’s movements and enjoy the impromptu rhythms. Me? I panic in chaos, unsure of what to do first, where to look, how to react (or act). I’m uncomfortable waiting for the next change to occur. I do so much better when things flow logically, in a predictable way. Unfortunately, life isn’t logical or predictable (how I wish it were!). I’ve gotten better, but I know my limits, and when to retreat.

I used to wish I could be less structured, to just “go with the flow”, and I can, to some extent. But I learned very quickly that I wasn’t being true to who I was, who I am by remaining in situations in which chaos thrives. I have to honor my limits and take care of that part of me that prefers the quiet and order of being by myself.