Shower King

Moment of Truth escaped
In the captured time of the shower-
When heard, I wonder and sink to knees.

"It's not about eating. 
It's about you
and Me."

Pointed at my heart
No blame here but unavoidable,
crazy intimacy.

"What about us?"
Answered with snapshots floating through the haze
and heat of comforting water.

Remembrance of just-made decisions.
Unattainable standards reset
"Are you seeing?"

Moment of truth escaped.
And I know-not by clear design,
but I am naturally bent

Towards the maze of trying
Without believing or receiving.
only crossing off once done.

A desire for earth wholeness
now replaced with a desire for
Holiness.  Closeness. 

Oh Shower King:
Who am I to argue
with Grace?

Wind in my earrings, Part 4

Today it is to nourish:

62.  Room to stretch out on the flight back today. 

63.  A bridesmaid dress-trying-on-event that went smoothly.

64.  These words: And in simple faith to plunge me, ’Neath the healing, cleansing flood!

65.  A little bit of extra time with my sister last night.

66.  Soy milkshakes.

67.  Encouraging professional relationships.

68.  Watching my sister switch the tassle from right to left.

69.  A job opportunity for the brother.  (This post is satisfyingly family-centric as I just soaked up rarely-received time with all four of them).

70.  Projected free time this week to spend with quality friends before I leave.

71.  Anyway: a broken laptop (the roommate's) and a severed tie (mine).  Chances for divine intervention if I ever saw them.

Counting with the gratitude community:

This bumpy road

13 "Enter by the narrow gate. For the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. 14For the gate is narrow and the way is hard that leads to life, and those who find it are few.

Matthew 17

Photo by Trey Ratcliff @ Stuck in Customs.

I heard these verses this morning and my thoughts went in a direction that was, for me, a first. 

Here it is (and feel free to laugh): No wonder I keep getting bumped!

If the road is narrow and hard, when you encounter a person along the Way, they probably fit in one of four categories: a leader, a bumper, a linker, or a follower. 

Ever been on a narrow trail?  I've run one with a group of girls that were all working out together.  I discovered I like to be in the middle of the pack.  If I am in the front, inevitably someone wants to pass me to set their own pace.  If I am at the back, I begin to slow down with no accountability behind me.  But in the middle, I keep running at a steady pace.  I'm pretty sure all of us want the same - good leaders, friends who run alongside us, and people who follow after, affected for the better by the example of our lives.

The leaders:  On the narrow trail, really good leaders are few and far between.  They can urge you forward without judging your progress.  They warn you of pitfalls.  They pave the way ahead, marking out the road for those behind them.

The bumpers:  The narrow width of the path means there isn't much room for people to run together unless they are lockstep linked.  So the bumpers fulfill their roll by sharpening us with their knocks.  They remind us to keep the focus on the path beneath our own feet.  (When we start to compare, we become bumpers ourselves!).

The linkers:  These people are really, really rare.  In order to run together on a hard, narrow path, these people have to link arms and step in sync with you on your journey.  They are unafraid to be close, courageous enough to share in encouragements and pain.  Most exist for just a portion of the way, falling back or leaping forward to lead you on.  Some step in time and stay for longer periods.

The followers:  These people are necessary.  Without followers, you might lose hope.  Instead, when you turn around to see how far you've come, you realize that others are depending on your leadership to make the path ready for their feet. 

A reporter once asked Elvis: “Elvis, when you first started playing music, you said you wanted to be rich, famous and happy. Are you happy?”  He replied, “I’m lonely as hell itself.”

On the broad road, everyone pursues their own goals.  Lonely and spread out, they don't even bump into to each other on the way to destruction.  I am grateful for the Way that leads to life, even if it means I might get knocked about from time to time.

Circling

Dear friend,

I am up late again.  Even as I say that I can hear your consternation.  I know I need sleep and yet I'm up - doing laundry, packing for a weekend trip, but most of all - I'm thinking.  Circling might be a better word.  That's how I picture it.  Like the object of my concern is in the middle of a patch of grass in a field and my thoughts have run a permenant trail of dirt into the ground around it. 

Most of the time, my circling helps make sense of a problem.  Almost like the act of focusing on it brings true understanding.  And that is the purpose, right?  To exert some sense of understanding so that I can make a decision, know how to think, or even put something to rest.

But I have to be honest.   When I put what's going on in your life in the middle of this well-worn path, it refuses to make sense.  Seriously - I've been doing laundry for three hours and there's no parceling to be done.  I can't make it smaller by dividing it into tangible pieces.  When I think about answers, all I get is more questions.  There is no fairness here.  No clear reason behind the cards you were dealt.  No way around the hurt. 

I need to get to the point so I can go get the next round of clothes.  There are very few times when the circling doesn't help at all.  Since you know my story, I'm sure you can think of those times in my life.  All I know is that rather than maintaining a distance waiting for understanding, I walked right up to the thing, screamed at it, pushed at it, and eventually stumbled through it.  And while I had irreplaceable help, it was one of the most lonely times in my life. 

At the heart of it, all I can do is circle, watch, and plead on your behalf.  This trail I'm running has already become a valley but perhaps it will keep you from attack.  So I'm here - watching while you push at it, struggle with it, walk through it.

One day:
4 Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
5 And the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
and all flesh shall see it together,
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken. 
Isaiah 40

Wind in my earrings, part 3

I didn't really get to post yesterday; I've been very busy with #51 from last week.  Even though it's not Monday, it's still a necessity for me to keep track, especially in these last days in Austin.  So to conquer fear with praise:

52.  Finding out that everyone is nervous about my upcoming high school reunion.

53.  Two great parents.   

54.  Boxing.

55.  A Colorado address.

56.  Returning memories. 

57.  My sister's great example: teaching while attaining a master's degree!

58.  Hot showers in the morning.

59.  Easy accessibility to Sonic.

60.  The king's chair (my apartment rocking chair).  Sadly, it might not make the trip to seminary.  Picture below: Stacey, a great Austin friend, rocking my goddaughter.

61.  Two amazing coworkers who have mothered me, befriended me, and encouraged me.

One day late, but still loving the gratitude community at:

Happy Mother's Day!

My Mom is...

Funny
Supportive
Gracious
Loving
Kind

And above all-
Merciful.

Love you Umma.

My Scar

In August of 2006, I woke up one morning with partial blindness in one eye. After a round of doctor's appointments, I remember sitting with a retinal eye surgeon and discussing possible causes. By this time, the pictures taken of my eye had confirmed it was a blood clot, the lingering effects of which would hopefully dissipate within the span of several weeks. I could see better by the time we were having the discussion, but my fear was as palpable as the clawing Texas humidity of that August day.

I remember asking him if stress could be a contributing factor in blood clots. He reluctantly admitted that stress could contribute to any physical disorder if it was high enough, and if other contributing factors were present. Most concernedly, he said, was the fact that I was 24. He gestured in the direction of the waiting room and continued, "You might notice that you offset the average age of my patients by about 60 years."

You would think that the threat of premature aging and physical disease would have jarred me into some sort of personal revelation in that moment. Unfortunately, it took over a year to get me to that point. Fast-forward to January of 2008 in yet another doctor's office, this time a rheumatologist, who blithely conveyed a diagnosis of lupus before moderating his voice to lecture me about my level of stress. He told me I needed to see a therapist because something in my life had to give. Even he could tell I was not letting go without help.

With the help of a counselor, by April of 2008 I quit everything that was not necessary. When you're busy, you've probably bought into the myth that you can multitask and still produce quality work (or have quality relationships). One fear, however, proved true. When I relinquished my commitments, people were disappointed in me. People judged me. Certainly not everyone. And I don't really blame the ones who did.  Because I didn't know how to quit with vulnerability, I left some commitments without any explanation.

My point is this: pulling the rope is risky. Being forced to upend your life in a culture where excelling in multiple disciplines is valued and quantity reigns over quality means that there will be a contingent of people who don't understand the necessity of a mid-line halt. In fact, it's the grace of God that quite a few people did stick with me; I was messy.

Honestly, I'm discovering that now, as I try to build my life back, I can still become overcommitted.  There are moments every day when I have to stop. Determine whether or not I can commit to something without sacrificing the quality of something else.  Say no to dross so that I am saying yes to simple life abundant.  It is what's required, in my life at least, for keeping peace.

Don't worry. If I start to forget, I just close my eyes. There is a faint, small scar from my blood clot that lives on as a reminder of the cost of blundering ahead, skipping over the warning signs of being overcome, and vainly trying to prove something by giving Him an offering He does not require.

Isaiah 1:11

"What are your multiplied sacrifices to Me?"

Says the LORD.

"I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams

And the fat of fed cattle;

And I take no pleasure in the blood of bulls, lambs or goats.

Psalm 50:10-15

10"For every beast of the forest is Mine,

The cattle on a thousand hills.

11"I know every bird of the mountains,

And everything that moves in the field is Mine.

12"If I were hungry I would not tell you,

For the world is Mine, and all it contains.

13"Shall I eat the flesh of bulls

Or drink the blood of male goats?

14"Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving

And pay your vows to the Most High;

15Call upon Me in the day of trouble;

I shall rescue you, and you will honor Me."

Links!

What I'm thinking about:
Pulling the rope.  One of the best reads in awhile.

10 Life lessons you should unlearn. 

This is me too: a great Mother's Day thought.

Enjoy:
The Myers Briggs personality test. Worth the $5.

Enough: a word study

This kind of inductive, word-study post is different than most of my blog posts, but if you stick with it, it's the kind of open-ended read that might lead you to something unexpected.

At church on Sunday one particular part of a song struck me differently than it has before.  It's a line from a song called "Because of Your Love:"

"You did it for me.
You did it for love. 
It's your victory.
Jesus you are enough."

It reminded me of another song called El Shaddai:

"El Shaddai, worthy king.
Lord most high, I believe.
You are God of more than enough. 
In you I trust, El Shaddai."

The meaning of the Old Testament Hebrew name for God, El Shaddai:
1.  It's most often translated in the Bibles we read as God Almighty.  This might tie in to the Hebrew word for mountain, 'shadu':

Genesis 17:1 - When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the LORD appeared to him and said, "I am God Almighty; walk before me and be blameless. 2 I will confirm my covenant between me and you and will greatly increase your numbers."

2.  Some think it sounds like 'shadayim,' a Hebrew word for breasts.  God supplying the needs of His people like a mother to a child.  This would go with a certain sense of fertility connected with the El Shaddai verses:

Genesis 29:25 - "by the God of your father who will help you, by the Almighty who will bless you with blessings of heaven above, blessings of the deep that crouches beneath, blessings of the breasts and of the womb."

3.  Some think Shaddai is composed of two parts: Sha, a relative pronoun and Dai, meaning enough or sufficient.  God in Himself is enough.  The Talmud explains it this way, but says that "Shaddai" stands for "Mi she'Amar Dai L'olamo" - "He who said 'Enough' to His world." God is not only sufficient in and of Himself, but also sets the limits on the world, even creation itself. 

Job 11:7 - "Can you search out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limits of the Almighty?" 

In English, enough:
–adjective
1.adequate for the want or need; sufficient for the purpose or to satisfy desire: enough water; noise enough to wake the dead.
–pronoun
2.an adequate quantity or number; sufficiency.
–adverb
3.in a quantity or degree that answers a purpose or satisfies a need or desire; sufficiently.
4.fully or quite: ready enough.

Enough means sufficient to satisfy the purpose, need, or desire. 

Sufficient in the New Testament:

2 Corinthians 3:4-6  Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. 5 Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, 6 who has made us competent (or sufficient) to be ministers of a new covenant, not of the letter but of the Spirit. For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.

2 Corinthians 12:9 But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Is He enough for you?

Wind in my earrings: Part 2

42.  More than enough.  El Shaddai.
43.  University of Alabama and the roommate: A great pairing.

44.  Beautiful skirts.

45.  Mama Warner's tunafish.

46.  Action movies and ice cream when Sunday night blues threatened.

47.  A renewed passport.  I'm ready Australia!!

48.  A friendship that didn't shy away from a tough moment.

49.  Learning how to pull the rope. 

50.  A group of people I met a long time ago that still influence my story.

51.  Anyway: another software manual to finish in 2 weeks.

This post is part of:

Saturday Evening Blog Post

Elizabeth Esther hosts the Saturday Evening Blog Post.  A whole community of great bloggers link up their best post from the month.  This one is actually the Best Post of March and April.

I've only been blogging since mid-April (Wow!  It already feels like a normal part of my day), and my favorite blog post is my first, so if you didn't read it, here ya go.

If you love to read blogs like I do, you'll love the group of people that link up to the Saturday Evening Blog Post.  Click through their wonderful links here.

Flashback Friday: Graduating Again

That's me in the center. Obviously no one had yet emparted to me the beauty of well-tweezed eyebrows, the thickness of which I unfortunately inherited from my father. And oh yeah - I bought that dress myself at a store hours away from my hometown. It was one of my first fashion decisions without my mother. Maybe horizontal stripes aren't always the most flattering, but otherwise it's okay.

I see it, but maybe the crooked smile fools you. I was so unsure of myself. Junior high, such a rough time for any girl, had put my self-esteem through the ringer. I had a newer group of friends that I wasn't sure would last through the shift to high school. And I was super fearful about being the lowest man on the totem pole again, anticipating more competition in my most confident arenas.

I was relieved to disembark from such a difficult place, but fearful to move on. It felt premature to hope when I just might revert back to the seventh grade me and repeat all of my insecurities and mistakes in the tenth grade.

Austin is my seventh grade all over again.  It's been a threshing floor for all of my deepest wounds and insecurities.  I've waded through deep waters of doubt here, questioning everything I thought was soundly mine before.  I'm a bit more secure now, just like I was in that ninth grade picture.  I've established roles, cultivated hard-won relationships, gained confidence in new areas of ability.
 
And now I find myself graduating from this place.  Happy to leave, fearful to proceed.  I'll be attending seminary for counseling in the fall and as I prepare, I keep facing the same fear written all over my face in this photograph.  Have I really learned the lessons I'll need?  Or will I just repeat the same lessons I fought so hard to learn?  
 
There's no way of knowing - I can't see into my future.  So as I graduate, I have to believe that those hard won faith battles will have driven their stakes deep into my spirit-foundation.  That I will shore up grace and truth.  That I will continue to bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things. 
 
That I will love.

Pictures!

People call us twins. One time a pastor asked us if we were sisters.

The funny thing is, even if you disregard the obvious difference - that she has bigger feet - you can tell we are opposites by the choice of nail polish.

 

Me: hot pink with detailing that, according to her, looks like lightning and flowers.  She deemed the design April showers bring May flowers.

The Roommate: a subdued "Simply Mauve." Classy yet understated. 

Today, my roommate's mom came with us to the salon and was so surprised by the pounding massage technique used on her calf muscles that she maintained she was being beaten "like a runaway slave."  Not my words...

Obviously.

Links!

What I'm thinking about:
The beautiful implications of "you tore the veil."

Do you suffer from Quiet time guilt?

The characteristics of spiritual abuse.

Enjoy:
Best read of the week - A letter from God.

Skirtathon: You've won me over.

I was forced to wear tights to church as a young girl. I'm pretty sure my generation will be the last to withstand this horrible infraction of justice, but nonetheless, it occurred. (And Umma, I still have beef with you about the few times I recall wearing bonnets). Hideous things, bonnets.

Perhaps you've sensed my opinion on the subject. By the time I was eight, anything I was forced to wear for Sunday morning services became a point of contention for me. This included patent leather mary-janes (black for before Easter, white for after) tights, and dresses (think Laura Ashley except we didn't buy name brand).

As soon as we moved and we attended a church in which quite a few women wore pants (the horror!), I was ecstatic. I pursued the topic with the parental units vigorously.  I didn't fight with them about going to church, but I do remember the why-can't-we-wear-jeans-to-the-Sunday-night-service discussions.

My point? I was born a casual dresser. And I like pants. Occasionally, I do choose to grace people with my pale chicken legs by sporting a dress. But this is an infrequent gift.

Enter: My current roommate, Kristen. Kristen, as we say, likes to come correct. She puts extensive thought into her clothing choices and the appropriate level of dress required for each circumstance. If she were writing this, she would probably say that the difference between our choice of attire has a lot to do with class structure and racial constructs. But she's not here...so I'll just say that sometimes when I come out of my room already dressed, I circle back to change after seeing her outfit.

In 2005, my roommate started Skirtathon. Here's a quick rundown of the Skirtathon lexicon:

• For the month of April, she challenges women to wear skirts (or dresses) each weekday of the month.
• Each time they leave the house on a weekday, they must be wearing a skirt.
• Each time they wear a skirt, it must be a different skirt. (This year that turns out to be 22 skirts or dresses. You'd be surprised at how many women have that many).
• When you run out of skirts, you exit Skirtathon and go back to your normal, every-day wear.

I've participated in Skirtathon three times. You might say I'm a veteran. I say might because I make the same mistake every year and leave all of my formal skirts and dresses to the end. Today my skirt has lace.  But that's beside the point.

Here's the problem. I want to say that I hate Skirtathon, that it complicates my life, that women have been liberated from the necessity of skirts! But instead, here are my conclusions:

1. Jackie O once advised women to dress like a column. Skirts and dresses accomplish this look and give the added column-esque benefit of helping you stand and sit straighter. It's classy people.
2. I've been more confident when meeting new people.
3. Skirts and dresses lend themselves to accessorizing. I love accessorizing.
4. I've noticed it's a lot easier for me to dress-down a skirt then dress-up jeans. Which do you think is more comfortable, an empire wasted cotton dress with sandals or jeans with a nice blouse and heels? 
5. It's easier to choose what to wear. I think this boils down to the fact that restriction in choice makes the choice easier. 
6. I'm better prepared. Twice Skirtathon has saved me: Once when I found out I had an unexpected business meeting for lunch and again when someone gave me a free ticket to a play after work.
7. Dressing up affects your attitude. Especially if you are in the professional realm during the day (as I am).

Conclusion:
When Skirtathon is over (Hallelujah - just three more days), I will gladly wear pants again. But maybe this funky April tradition is finally turning the tide from my decidedly casual accoutrement to a more elegant affair. 

Wind in my earrings

Last fall I was standing with a group of girls outside of the church building.  As we talked, I noticed a persistent whistling noise that no one else seemed to be hearing ( I know right - insert crazy joke here).  I asked for quiet and listened hard.   

One of my friends bent close to my ear and cried, "It's your earrings!"  As my eyes caught hers in surprise, we burst into laughter.  Each person demanded to get close to my ear and listen to the whistling noise.  One by one, laughter rippled through our group.  We had been talking in low, concerned voices about worries and concerns.  But suddenly I found myself giggling.  

Awhile ago, I began to keep count of those moments by joining the Gratitude Community.  Now that I have a blog, I hope to increase my awareness by intentionally adding to the list every Monday.  

32. A finished, 275-page manual of which I'm proud.

33. A late night conversation with my blunt, yet kind sister (the best combination).

34. Silent moments in the car with my roommate listening to gospel music.

35. A funny confession from a friend which proved her honest nature.

36. The physical ability to help a friend move this weekend.  It is still miraculous to me.

37. A place for me to rest during the in-between.

38. A place for me to go that was unforeseen.

39. A perfectly timed, well deserved trip to Ireland for the parental units.

40. Reading books to snugly kids before bedtime.

41. The Texas wildflowers that line my drive to work.

This post is a part of:

Dear Mom

I was so ashamed, so heart-broken. I decided to make the call while sitting in my car, in an empty parking lot, because I knew I would sob when I heard your voice. I had to say it out loud, speak the truth. And you had to hear it; I needed help. So I dialed your number, my number, the only number I know I will always know, and I heard you answer the phone joyfully. Just because it was me calling. I heard the love in your voice even before you heard the hurt in mine.

"Mom," I said, "I need to tell you something."

Oh wise mother, you knew even before I said a word. You had been one of the few to attempt telling me- softly, gracefully, but I had no ears to hear then. I imagine that you sat down on the other end of that line, ready to receive my offering of guilt. As I broke and the flood of sorrow and disappointment overcame me, I heard your voice.

And at the first sound of that first syllable, I felt mercy. For the first time since my awakening to the depth this mistake, this thing that could not be undone, I knew mercy. Trembling in fear, I felt the comfort interlaced in the fabric of your simple words. "It will be okay." "I love you."

In one day, the very next day, you were there. It was expensive grace that brought you to me so quickly, but I was so glad to lean.

The wisdom of your fast response has never been so clear to me. Now I know that had I stayed even one more day, sly manipulation might have crushed my tender shoot. I don't think you knew that. But you knew Love, and you knew me.


I am so grateful Umma. This is your God-gift, and I am so blessed to have it extended to me.  

Added to the Mother's Day Project @ HighCalling Blogs.

Pictures!

 

These girls are members of the Loyal List.  We went to New York recently, and this is 4 out of the 5 of us standing in front of the Broadway play we saw, "In the Heights."  Afterwards, we actually got to meet some of the cast.  It was one of those moments when you know someone is taking care of you.  Hard to explain, but to me this picture will always mean unexpected blessing. 

 That's me on the right.  Look at that attitude!  To say that I never, ever, ever thought I would exercise is an understatement.  So this picture is a reminder when I start to forget that most of my limits are self-imposed.

Links!

What I'm thinking about: 
A lot of society's wars are fought on the college campus.   

That could preach:
Ever wondered how the baby carrot came into existence?  Does it grow that way?  Turns out this smart farmer just got tired of throwing away the crooked ones.   

Enjoy:
Love beautiful travel photography?  This guy is from Austin and he allows use under the Creative Commons license.

Saved by unreturned phone calls

It was not the first revelation I had during the 2-year-long fight with disease and depression, nor was it the last. But it was a game-changer. Full encounters with Grace are always game-changers.

In April of 2008, it was all I could do to shower, drive to work, assume the work facade in order to strain out interactions with customers, and drive home. Once home, I would eat, sleep, and repeat the next morning. Before the years of pain began, it had been my habit to catch up on phone calls on the drive home from work. As the disease progressed, however, this became more and more untenable. It wasn't just that I was physically exhausted.

I had nothing to say. I didn't want to talk about my own pain, and I couldn't fake light topics of conversation to save my life. When it came to that portion of the conversation where my input was expected, I was at a loss.

So it was that I found myself driving home, sitting in traffic, and looking at a long list of unreturned phone calls. At the top of the list were some of my best friends. Friends that did not live in Austin, could not see the change that had engulfed my personality in despair, were not aware of how bad things had become. I felt as though I owed them explanations, and that maybe if I could just get through the description of my present state, encouragement would be on the other side. As I picked up my phone to dial the first number, I knew I couldn't do it. It felt like I was attempting to claw through a brick wall with my fingernails. In sheer despair, I said aloud, "Jesus, I can't."

To be honest with you, I did keep up a running dialogue with God even in the worst of those days. But don't be impressed. The entire context of those discussions might be typified by "Okay, just help me through this shower." And then, "Thanks, now can you just get me through the next hour." This time, though, my anguish fully expressed, I felt Him respond very clearly: "You don't have to."


My external response was religious - "God, if I don't call these people I'm ruining relationships, missing divine appointments, making a bigger mess!" My internal response, the one He knew immediately, was doubt. If I didn't do what I was supposed to do, would God still come through for me? If I didn't toe the line, hold up my end of this nebulous bargain, would He stop helping me?

The answer fell deep in my malnourished, legalistic soul. You cannot make me love you more with righteousness that is as filthy rags, and you cannot lose my love with unreturned phone calls.