giving thanks

I dug through my extra-large purse the other day and found a tattered little book in the bottom that I had forgotten about.  It was a little notebook with one page of writing - back in September, I had dedicated that book as my "book of thanks."  I took a page and began listing the big and little things in my life that stand out to me as blessed reminders that God is here, with me, now. Life filled up and I forgot about that little book... until the other day when I found it again.

I only work part-time now but somehow, life has filled up again.  And in the full, I find myself running faster and my heart struggles to sit still and remember.  Oh how I forget.  But tonight - tonight, I dedicated as quiet time.  And I sit at the corner table at Starbucks and I remember.  Oh how I remember.  So here's what I wrote then and here's what I'm remembering now.  May I continue to add to it.  And blessed Jesus, may I remember You and worship.

i will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, i will remember your wonders of old. i will ponder all your work, and meditate on your mighty deeds. your way, o God, is holy. what god is great like our God? you are the God who works wonders; you have made known your might among the peoples. you with your arm redeemed your people.  ~Psalm 77

1. a faithful pastor who preaches the Word openly and truthfully every Sunday.  I miss it when I'm not there.
2. a kind, good-hearted boyfriend who wakes me up each morning with a text message and blessing on my day... and who chose to change churches so we could be together on Sundays... and who prays with me with an open heart.
3. my curly hair - I really have come to love it! and the hair-cut place that cuts my bangs for free.
4. my kind and loving nana who washes my clothes (when I do not ask her to!) and is mending my torn skirt.
5. Henri Nouwen's words of kindness and truth.
6. a new friend who sends me an e-mail of encouragement at just the right time.
7. Saturdays! to get my life in order.
8. my faithful old car - 138,000 miles strong!
9. the unconditional invitation of Jesus that is not dependent upon me - "come to me and I will give you rest..." 
10. my mom who calls me three days in a row to try to catch up with me because she loves me that much.
11. when I haven't been a faithful Bible-reader and my soul misses it so much, that I open my Bible and it feels like an old friend.
12. TWO days off in a row!!
13. when I'm in a really bad mood and having a really bad day and Ben says, "let's decorate for Christmas early." And somehow in the lights and the music and the little tree and the nog and his bear hugs, I feel happy again.
14. the grande peppermint mocha that the kind lady at Starbucks gave to me for free!
15. that there really is no rule that says you have to wait until Thanksgiving to listen to Christmas music... because it sure has blessed my soul today!

the good part of it

Ben called me last weekend while I was visiting my brother Sam in his home state of Virginia.  I realized it was September 22nd - exactly one month since Ben had asked me to be his girlfriend.  We talked that night for long time, me in Virginia and him in Pennsylvania... it was wonderful.  He dug through his old files and found a card that I had written to him six years ago when he was first diagnosed with diabetes.  He read it to me and it brought tears to my eyes.

I remember my wise uncle saying to me back then, "leave him with a blessing and you can never know what might happen in the future."  I didn't really believe him back then but here we are - six years later and that man that I admired so long ago is my boyfriend.  Today we sat together at the Sage Diner and marveled at it again - we have no clue how we got to this place except that God has been at work in some big, mysterious ways.  Tonight, all I can do is raise my hands and my heart up in the air and thank Him.

Full circle.  That's what I call it when He takes something that once was hard and brings redemption, restoration - beauty from ashes, gladness from mourning.  When I let Ben go six years ago, I really let him go.  Six years later, he came back... and now, here I am in relationship with someone who already is so special to me. What an adventure.  Today, I stared at that man across the booth from me - the one who holds my hands and comforts me so well just by the way he looks at me.  I do not understand how God works, but I am very, very grateful.  

I began this summer with visions of adventures in a new job at a new church and as a fledgling counselor.  God, in His wisdom and sovereignty, directed me to postpone that fledgling counselor bit for a few months.  And I continue to learn how to be a boss at a new job in a new church.  And now, I also find myself in an entirely new adventure - a relationship.  I didn't see it coming, but God certainly did.  And what an adventure it is.  You know, it's really true that He is the Writer of our stories.  So I buckle down, and I hold on, and I look forward with excitement to how the story will continue to be told.  When you have such a Writer, you really can never know what's next... and that's the good part of it.

same

Six years ago, we met at a party...  a spontaneous party that my sister threw at my apartment.  In the midst of all of the hub-bub and all of the friends, we somehow found each other and we sat down and we talked.  It wasn't long before we realized that we loved the same places and the same mountains and the same animals and even some of the same books!  How fun it was to find so much "same."

Six years later, you showed up so unexpectedly.  You asked me to meet you for coffee and we did.  And again, we loved the same places and the same mountains and the same animals and the same books!  We told stories and we laughed and we talked.  Again, so much "same"... so much fun.

But this time was different... because there was a different kind of "same."  Six years later, it seems that somehow, we've come to know the same God.  Our paths have been different but our journeys so much the same.  I listen to you and I think to myself, "I get it."

So I thank you, my friend, for showing up now, as you have, and for letting me experience more of this "same."  You are like a breath of fresh, clean air, a reminder to me that stories continue to be told and pages can turn suddenly... and what you find on the next page can be even better than the page before.  I think that's my favorite part.

being a baby

I've been spending time with a baby this week.  I absolutely love it...

Meet Sammy... My first and only nephew.  I love this little guy.  Sammy and my sister Shannon will fly home to Arkansas early tomorrow morning, so I got to take care of Sammy and put him to sleep tonight so that my sister could get a good night's sleep.  I loved it.

Getting this baby to sleep took hours.  I gave him his bottle, rocked him, sang to him, told him about Jesus, and he just laid there and waved his chubby little arms around - and SMILED at me.  I would put his binky in his mouth and he would smile at me... and his binky would fall out.  Round and round we went.  So many smiles... it was beautiful.  I cooed at him and told him that I loved his smile and his pretty eyes - but would he please try to close them and go to sleep?  I put him in his chair and rocked him some more... and then he SLEPT.  And he is STILL SLEEPING.  I feel like I did a wonderful thing tonight. =)

In between all of the rocking and smiling and singing, I think Sammy and Jesus and me had a moment together.  I looked at Sammy and suddenly, I saw myself through Jesus' eyes.  And I began to wonder...

Are we like babies to God?  Does He think of me as His baby?
The care that I put in to the past few hours with Sammy - does God care for me like that?  So personally, so intimately, so joyfully?
Does He delight in me that way that I delight in Sammy?  Is my smile HUGE to Him?  Would He be happy to sit with me for hours, just to be with me?  Do I really mean THAT much to Him?  Wow...
Maybe He wants to sing to me and tell me stories... messages from Him that only I can know.  How beautiful... how magnificent.

I remember my precious little nephew Sammy and I know in my soul that I must be even more precious to Him than Sammy is to me and my family.  Oh the depth of relationship that must be available to us with this God.  I have struggled to really know Him as a Father, but I so long to go deeper with Him in that relationship.

May I learn to be a child.  Maybe Sammy will continue to teach me about that...  =) May I know the depths of what it means to be a child of this God.  What a treasure that is.

gift on a doorstep

A gift arrived on my doorstep this week... an unexpected, beautiful gift.  Given my story and the places where these shoes have walked, the gift was about as close to perfect as you could get.  I could almost see the Maker of this girl and the Giver of this gift smiling from his one big ear to the other.

So I sat with this gift... all week I sat with it.  And I talked with the Giver, "is this really for me?  really?"  And the Giver just opened His big arms - "enjoy, beth."  And I have...

Sometimes, on this side of eternity, it surprises me that a heart can feel so full, after having felt so empty.  I guess that's part of our experience here - full and empty, sometimes coming almost side by side.  But lately, it's been full, a blessed full.  And I have enjoyed it.

But it's strange - along with such fullness comes a nagging sense of NOT-fullness.  A gift so perfect, but yet, a sense that it's just NOT.  Perfection that does not exist here, in this world.

And I don't like that.  I want to know fullness... complete fullness, with NO empty.  I want wholeness, completeness, fullness of joy.  I want NOW the things that were promised to me for THEN.  How I want to hold these things now... how I wish I could see His face now.

But I can't.  And here's what He's been telling me about that this week.  This ache, this groaning, is really a promise.  It's His promise to me.  The fullness is coming.  He is coming.  One day, He will scoop me up in His big arms... I imagine that we'll dance and I'll dance well... and there will be nothing - nothing - to get in the way.  No separation.  Absolute fullness.  Fullness of joy.  Wholeness of life.  Completeness of everything as it was always meant to be.  How I long for that day... I can feel my heart jump in me at the thought of it.  I know I was meant for it.

Then.  I was meant for it - THEN.  Not now.  I have not been promised fullness now.  I was promised beauty, life, good gifts, oodles of love - but I was never promised fullness, perfection.  It is just not here - not yet.

Not yet.  What a strange relief this is to me.  No need to try to force fullness now - because it is coming.  He is coming.  He is coming for me.  And in the meantime, I groan and I wait - I wait with a blessed ache that knows with full assurance WHO I am waiting for.  I don't wait for an unknown thing - no.  I wait for Someone that I do know - as through a glass darkly, I know Him.  And I wait with Hope because when He comes, I will know Him fully, as He is, even as I am fully known.  Blessed waiting, blessed God who sustains this waiting girl with His own presence and the gifts that He leaves on this doorstep along the way.  

we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.  and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.  For in this hope we were saved... 

~romans 8

you have been sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of His glory.

~ephesians 1

summer testimony

I can tell that my life is in a shift now... a painful shift but a beautiful, essential shift.  Call it shifting from duty to desire, schedule to soul, obligation to offering - I don't know what to call it!  But I look back... and oh my word, the past three years have been hard.  Working full time, school full time, ministry, counseling, friends, family - life has been good and FULL.  I'm afraid that I was in danger of losing myself - the part of me that is most precious, the connection to Jesus - in all of the busyness, pressure, and hub-bub.

So I quit my full time job and I start a part time job, and I begin to prepare myself for the next thing - my first counselor's "job" (well, it's an internship, but you know what I mean!).  In the midst of transitioning to working part time at a church and anticipating counseling, I find myself staring straight into my own heart... and maybe because life is quieter now, I can't escape my own heart.

For anyone who has spent time getting to know themselves, you know that it's good and it's bad... kind of beautiful and painful at the same time.  Except I think the bad usually comes first, then the good... the pain, then the beauty.   But anyway, here I am looking at my own heart, and I find in there a need that I can't explain in any word other than - precious.  Here's what I'm finding - it doesn't matter how much you know, how much reflecting you've done by a counselor's standards, how good your leadership skills may be, how much grace you can give in the moments when it's needed most - those things are not life in and of themselves. And even though I've grown by leaps and bounds in those areas in the past three years, as I look at my heart today, I find myself in much the same place I've always been  --  I am a child in desperate need of the love of her Father.


Maybe in my naivete or intensive counselor training, I thought "strength" would mean increasing independence.  But it hasn't... strength has meant increased dependence.  It's that beautiful, vulnerable place of knowing that the task in front of you has been crafted especially for you and walking forward with joy and anticipation... but knowing through and through, that you cannot do it on your own.  It's staring the task full in the face, falling on your knees, raising your hands up to heaven, and then walking forward.  It's knowing that if you stand, you'll be standing on Grace, but if you fall, you'll be caught by that same Grace.

So as I look in my own heart, I see even more of the need for increased relationship with my Father.  And I'm coming to understand that this is the greatest gift ever - to become aware of my own need and to be empowered to be willing to live in it... to open my hands, open my mouth and let Him fill me in whatever way He chooses.

So I learn not to be afraid of the 'bigness' of what is ahead of me... but to see it, feel it, let it impact me, and let it take me straight to Jesus and His cross.  May I become more like Him, may my life be more like His.

he makes flowers

I woke up yesterday morning and looked out the window to see my grandpop carefully attending to his rosebushes.  A long time ago, he planted a row of rosebushes that line the entire length of the back deck--roses of all different colors and sizes.  They are beautiful.  For as long as I have known him, my grandpop has loved gardening and he is one great gardener.

I watched him yesterday from the window, working so meticulously.  With a small pair of cutters, one by one, he removed dying leaves from the rosebushes and explained to me that the roses can't bloom as brightly when their leaves are dying.  So almost everyday, he goes out and cuts off the dying leaves.  And the roses are beautiful... they really are.  He takes such good care of them.

My grandpop's roses are beautiful because he cares for them so well.  They really are a testament to who he is as their gardener.

Oh my word.  Has Jesus been speaking to me!  I watched my grandpop and I could hear his voice--

I am the true vine and my Father is the Gardener.  Every branch is me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.  Already you are clean because of the word that I have spoken to you.  Abide in me, and I in you.  As the branch cannot bear fruit in itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I am the vine; you are the branches.  Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.  (John 15)


I have felt this pruning lately and I have struggled to understand it.  Areas of my life that I have put my trust in and measured my security by... some of them have been disappearing.  I sometimes feel like I am standing with empty hands.  Emptiness, loss--these are difficult to understand and live with.  I feel weary and I find myself battling that dark place where I question the heart of God toward me.

But still he prunes.  And he tells me that he does it because he's a good gardener (the best) and he knows the beauty and the fruit that I was made for and he longs to see me live in it.

When I was in Maine last month, one of the greatest treasures given to me was time with my dad.  We went on several "adventures" that we came up with together, and for me, the time was precious.  One day, we drove down a pretty desolate dirt road and pulled off by a stream for my dad to do some fishing.  There was a treasure waiting for me there-- next to the stream, grew one lone pink tulip...

It was growing in the grass next to the stream all by itself and it was the only one in sight.  I have no idea how it got there (although I tried to imagine all of the ways.)  It was strikingly beautiful and starkly different than the landscape around it.  My dad still talks about how much I loved that tulip... I guess I made quite a scene over it.

I knew Jesus gave that flower to me, but at the time, I didn't understand.  Now I think I do.  Pruning hurts.  Sometimes, I'm tempted to think I might be content to just be a piece of grass and not hurt... hide and blend in with the landscape for a little while.  But Jesus, who made me, knows me so much better than I know me.  He longs that I would lift my head and see him and know him and trust his care.  So he prunes... because he alone knows the tulip that I really can be in his hands.

So I guess I don't need to question his intentions or fight his pruning.  Because if he's the gardener, then I want to be the tulip.  I praise the one who patiently prunes even while his flowers try to fight him off and I pray that I might live my life as a testament to the goodness of the gardener.

girl meets bear.

This is something that I wrote a few days ago... I'm just getting around to posting it tonight.

I finally made it to Little Squaw Mountain yesterday.  (I wrote in an earlier post that I tried to go to Little Squaw last week but ended up on Big Squaw instead!)  I love Little Squaw... it has a beautiful trail that runs along the shores of Big and Little Moose Ponds.  The view along most of the trail is pretty magnificent.

I love the outdoors... I've actually spent the past 24 hours praying that I might someday have a chance to do the whole Appalachian Trail. =)  But yesterday, I could not help but notice that I was the only one on Little Squaw mountain... no other cars were at the trail head, no other human beings on the trail.  And I also ran into something that I found alarming-- I looked at the trail and was quite sure I saw the prints of a bear right near the prints of my own shoes.  Later, I found scat that looked like it also belonged to a bear.  I guess it's possible that the print and the scat were old and that the bear was far away from me... but I did not know for sure!  My imagination ran wild, and I was afraid. I prayed and I prayed and I recited Psalm 46 (in my head, not out loud-- so as to not startle the bear that might be lingering!!) and I pulled my determined self together and forged my way to the top.  And I made it.  And I made it the whole way down... no bears.

But my dad had told me that bears don't like water... so guess what?  I made sure that I knew where every pond and lake and stream was on that mountain.  I also periodically checked my proximity to all of those bodies of water... trying to determine how easy or difficult it might be for me to run and jump into that water if I needed to escape a bear!

I am a girl who loves nature and loves beauty and loves Jesus, but on that day, I found myself anxiously scanning the trees for bears and mentally logging the presence of all bodies of water on that mountain.  While my wilderness self forged ahead and kept telling me that I have never heard of a hiker being attacked by bears in these parts, my other self felt petrified and very aware that I was a girl alone on that mountain who had no idea where the bear might be.  I felt shaken, even after I was safely down the mountain.

So tonight, I listened as the Phillies beat the Cardinals in 10 innings (yippee!), and then I turned off the radio and I paused and I asked Jesus some questions that have been lingering in my heart since yesterday... Jesus, what do You think of bears?  Really.  And what do You think of this girl who is afraid of bears?

I think His answer is one that I already know... yet one that I can never get enough of.  I have heard Him speaking to me these words several times over the past few days.  I hope He will tell me until the day I die.  "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."  O Jesus, I come.  And I find that there is no exception clause for girls who are afraid of bears. He does not ask me to conquer the fear... He asks me to hold on to Him, to follow where He leads.  I often don't know where He's leading me, but I know for sure that I would rather face the bears with Him than without Him.

So I continue to learn to trust Him.  Shoot, what a crazy road this is!  What a good road it is.  I get to climb mountains of many shapes and sizes and I get to face my bears with a very good Guide who holds me tight and leads me one step at a time.  I continue to learn to hold on to His hand and follow His leading.

when I made it to the top of Little Squaw

(if you look really closely, you can see Kineo in the distance)

the shore of Little Moose Pond, where the trail led me (and where I was ready to jump in the water if the bear came!)

the magic hour

Come climb the hill with me
Come and be still with me
Come watch the sun sink away
If you will with me

Come watch the garden grow
Down by the gravel road
Come warm your hands in the gold
Of the afterglow

Into the peace of these wild things, 
Into the wild of this grace, 
Into the grace of this blessing, 
Speak in the peace of this place...
~Andrew Peterson

Dooley and I took a walk on the railroad tonight... and we watched the sun setting around us.  We heard something rustling in the bushes nearby... I hoped it was a moose!  But it was a strange bird with a big orange feather on his head (I've got to ask my dad about that one).  I looked up and saw the two Squaw mountains in the distance.  They are calling to me... I think I'll be climbing up there again this week.  I really can't wait.

the mighty mountain

Dad and I hit the dirt road today for a new adventure!  

Destination: the Pelletier American Loggers Restaurant in Millinocket (I have learned that this is a famous restaurant from the Discovery Channel) =)  

The journey to Millinocket is about 2 1/2 hours on dirt roads... but the amazing thing is that you drive next to Mount Katahdin and the Penobscot River for much of the way.  And the day was beautiful--clear, blue sky.  I had never seen Mount Katahdin on such a clear day before.  I loved it.

We stopped several times to take pictures, go fishing, and just take it in.  What a beautiful day.

 the mighty mountain from one of Dad's favorite fishing spots on the Penobscot

 from Abol Bridge campground

I am a really blessed girl.

really see

Adventure is, by its nature, a thing that comes to us.  It is a thing that chooses us, not a thing that we choose.
~Chesterton

Today adventure came to me.  And I really do love adventure.  I drove this afternoon to hike up "Little Squaw" mountain.  It's a favorite of mine... beautiful, a shorter climb, and the only mountain that I have ever done by myself.  I have many good memories on that mountain.  The only problem was that I couldn't find it!  I drove up and down that dirt road and just could not find the trail head.  It was the strangest thing... and I found myself yelling in my car, "how do you LOSE a mountain??"  I'm smiling as I remember it.

So I ended up on "Big Squaw" mountain instead.  That trail head, I found!  I've gone up Big Squaw a few times before with my dad but never by myself.  But I think I have a determined streak in me that just does not give up easily... so up I went, up Big Squaw.

And it is BIG.  And it was HARD.  I got over a bad cold just yesterday and I underestimated how colds can linger... so there I was, wheezing my way up Big Squaw.  I felt like I stopped just as much as I walked.  I remember one moment in particular-- I was more than halfway up the mountain, and the rocks were getting higher and steeper.  I was having a hard time breathing, and I seriously began to wonder if I had gone far enough and if it was time for me to go back down.

I turned around to make that decision and I stopped dead in my tracks... because I did not realize how high I had come. I looked out and I could see... lakes, rivers, mountains, trees.  The sight was magnificent.  I was filled with new strength and I forged ahead to the top.

And on the top, I could really see...

It made me grateful for the moments when you turn around and have the chance to see how far you've come... and are filled with new strength and excitement for what is ahead.

a pic a day

... this is very fun for me.

I am on an extended break... I don't remember the last time I took a break like this.  I finished my job of almost 9 years on Friday, hopped in my car, and headed due north.  I'll be up here for the next couple of weeks before I start my new job.  This is a quite a gift for me... TIME and REST.  

There's so much up here that's so wonderful.  Stuff that takes me by surprise and makes me smile.  So I would like to tell you about it, a pic a day. =)

My mom asked me today to run to the post office for her.  I grabbed my favorite little furr-ball Dooley and we drove to the post office... but then we kept driving.  It's been raining for DAYS here and it was supposed to rain even harder today.  But on that drive, the sky cleared... the sky turned blue and the sun came out for just a bit of time.  And we saw a moose on the road!  It was so fun.  Dooley barked his head off and I laughed.

At the end of the paved road is Kokadjo.  I don't think you can really call it a "town"... really, it's just 3 or 4 buildings... but it's on a lake and it's sure beautiful.  So Dooley and I parked the car and walked along the lake for a bit.  It was great.  Then, I took a picture of this sign.  

It made me grateful for the moments when the sky clears and you get to take a walk in the sun.

when you are a pirate

I had an "eye-opening" experience this week.  I mean this as a pun... I'll tell you why.

These last couple of weeks have been very full and very emotional.  I am in the midst of finishing many things--wrapping up three of my own classes, the group counseling class for which I have been an apprentice-instructor for the past year, and the job that I have had for the past 8 years.  Yikes, so many things that have meant so much to me... they are coming to an end.

How do you end, and end well?  How do you start new things, and start well?  I really don't know.  But I've sure tried to find out.  I sort of fell into an old tendency of mine-- put your nose to the grindstone and try hard.  That's what I've been doing.  Painstakingly leaving detailed notes for the next person in my job.  Trying to process the thousands of wayward emotions that ransack me every day in this transition.  And trying to still be present, and kind, and put together... while the insides of me feel completely not put together.  Transition and change... I guess they don't fall into neat and orderly lines... although I've wished that they would.

So Thursday morning, I was getting ready for a long day of work (at the job I'll soon be leaving) and an evening of celebration (for the class and students that I've been co-instructing this year).  I got up early, ready to take on and embrace the new day and all that it would hold.  As I was doing my eye make-up-- the same way that I do it every morning-- something strange happened.  A piece of my eye pencil fell in to my eye. Long story short, I scratched my cornea, and for the life of me, I could not make my eye stay open.  Instead, my eye fluttered... constantly.  Irritated by the scratch, it constantly fluttered... which gave me a headache.  It was not a good time and I was not in a good mood.

I decided to visit the university nurse, hoping that she would give me some kind of eye drop or salve--something to stop the irritation and constant fluttering.  Nope.  She was very kind but she did not give me a salve.  What she gave me was an eye patch.  Yes, an eye patch that would force my eye to stay shut and stop the irritation and fluttering.  So I emerged from her office with a bulging white cotton patch covering my right eye, held in place by long, stark, obtrusive strips of white tape.  (I do NOT have a picture.)

I looked ridiculous.  And I did not want to run in to anyone.  I literally ran through the halls from her office, back to mine.  And then I closed the door (I never close the door).  What a day.  In all of my attempts to take on the day and handle it well, I found myself sitting in my office with a shut door because I was embarrassed that I looked like a pirate.  And there was nothing I could do about it.  I was in so much pain that I needed that eye patch... I had to look like a pirate.

After a few other sort of similar incidents this weekend, I am facing something very important that I must learn.  I am not perfect.  That is not a surprise to me... I do already know that.  But I'm learning that in the moments when life heats up and my emotions skyrocket, so does the pressure that I put on myself.

So I continue to learn--the hard way at times!--that I must accept my own imperfection.  Jesus' invitation to relationship with Him has nothing to do with performance... it completely has to do with His unconditional acceptance which He already settled long ago at the Cross.  And when I let myself be imperfect, I learn to take the focus off of myself and look to the only One who is completely beautiful and completely perfect.  And He sure is beautiful... and He sure does captivate me.  And somehow in the process of being captivated, I become more like Him.  And life is not about performance or perfection.  It's about knowing and loving the One who has loved me so much.  It's about wanting to be like Him but resting in His grace in the times when I'm not.  It's about standing on the promise that He will pull me through and when I can't, falling on the grace that brought me to Him in the first place (thanks, Rich).

So, from this perspective--eye healed and patch-less--I am grateful for the days when I am humbled into looking like a pirate.  I might still want to hide in my office with the door shut, but I also learn more about what it means to rejoice in my own weaknesses and triumph in the strength that is freely given to me.

Praise Jesus.  May I continue to learn to walk in His ways.

flowers appear

view from my window

It is spring.  One of my favorite things about spring is the flowers.  I was driving to work this morning and--this might sound weird--but as I was driving through all of the flowering trees--the magnolias, lilac bushes, dogwoods, etc--I felt like they were ministering to me.  Grace, beauty, renewal, LIFE... this is what flowers speak to me.

So in the spring, I just want to be WITH the flowers as much as possible.  I went to Longwood Gardens on Good Friday and I could have stood in the tulip walkway all day, taking in the colors, shapes, forms, all of it.  What beauty.  I love those flowers.

It's funny.  I find myself at the grocery store almost every day, either buying a cup of coffee, sushi for lunch, fresh strawberries, etc, etc, etc.  But now that it's spring, I end up buying something else too.  Tulips are on sale for $2 with the shopper's card.  I can't tell you how many times I've walked in there and walked out with a tulip.  They truly bring me joy.  I'm sitting at my desk now looking at the bright orange tulip I bought last week.  I think it's dying now... so my friend just went to the grocery store with my $2 and returned with a pretty pink hyacinth.  And this one smells lovely. =)

The other day, I walked in to my office to find a pretty purple flower sitting in a pot on my desk.  I didn't buy that one for myself, but it sure was pretty.  I walked around to everyone that I knew--"do you know who gave me this flower?"  Nobody fessed up.  I was told I had an admirer. =)  But I loved that flower more than any of the others.  It was a gift, an unexpected one.  Somebody, somewhere either knew or imagined my love for flowers (and the color purple!) and left one for me.  I loved that flower, and I was very sad when it died.

That pretty purple flower speaks to me a great lesson that my heart has been learning.  I love beauty.  Beauty speaks to me of the world that my heart was meant for, the world that one day I will live in--where nothing will be broken and everything will be in its fullness.  I so long to see glimpses of that world in the here and now--experience it, partake in it, savor it, sit in it for a while.  So I look for beauty, and I often stubbornly insist on finding it and easily feel disappointed when I don't.

So sometimes, I find myself at the grocery store with my $2 tulips, enjoying the (affordable) beauty that they bring!  But other times, I am just going about my daily business and I sit down at my desk to find a flower waiting for me.  Unexpected beauty in an unexpected gift.  I think it's the heart of the Father going out to me, speaking to me, "I know your heart, daughter.  I know what brings you joy.  And I delight to meet you in that place."  And I know He does.  I must admit that I love those pretty purple flowers the most-- the moments beyond human understanding, when the Supernatural seems to break through my world and tell me that He gets me, knows me, and is with me.

Choosing to live this life by faith in Jesus is not easy.  Some days, I wonder if I'm doing anything right or making an impact on anyone at all.  That's probably part of why I love to see the beauty in this world-- because it reminds me that yes, this really is my Father's world.  But there are moments that seem like Divine confirmation-- when an unexpected flower appears, an Eternal "yes" to my question, saying to me "yes, Bethany, you are my beloved daughter. With you I am well pleased."  Those times are my favorite.

going home

I am sitting next to a pond with only my iPhone in hand. But my mind is so very full of thoughts. I want...no, I need to write them. So here goes...my first post from my iPhone.

I am just wrapping up spring break this week. It has been a beautiful week...so very beautiful. It touched something very deep in me and I've been walking around this pond trying to figure out what that was.

But I know what it was. My holes were filled this week. Somehow, the gaping, aching longings that I've been trying to learn how to live with...somehow, this week, they were filled.

I guess that's what happens when you go home. I would always say nj is my home...and I happen to be sitting in that great state now. So it wasn't the state. No, it was that my soul felt at home this week. Pressures lifted, my soul felt free to rest. And what a beautiful rest it was. And the spaces in me that feel gaping open...they were filled. Quality time with mom, dad, best friend. Time to laugh, cry, be loud, be quiet, time to rest and time to be, knowing that I am not alone. It was beautiful. I can only think that it reminded my heart of what is to come...when my heart will really be home and my soul will really sing.

I had the privilege of hearing a friend of mine preach this morning. He spoke of the hope of the resurrection, that the resurrection speaks to me now of the hope that one day, I and everything in this world will be as it was meant to be. We will live in and we will know fullness. We will see the Lord. We will walk with him with nothing in our way. He'll be as real to us as we are to each other. But my friend also said that the hope of the resurrection touches us today. As I sit next to this pond painstakingly typing away on my small iPhone, I remember that I am a new person, that the resurrected Bethany is continuing to live and take shape even now. That there is hope that I will continue to grow, continue to be changed, continue to be renewed and remade because Jesus went to the cross and rose from the grave. Because he is alive, so am I.

These truths are spiritual, understood by experience, it seems. Too huge for me to try to explain or put words to.  But somehow my heart knows. I know that even in the moments when resurrection seems far away, it's not.  He came so that we might be liberated, transformed new people even now. Praise His name.  What an amazing God who would do this for His people.

My next post might sound a bit more sophisticated.  I've found that it's hard to sound sophisticated when you keep pushing the wrong button on your phone. =) It takes me 5x longer just to type one word!  So this one will just sound real, I suppose.

beautiful collision

My life lately has felt a bit like a collision course.  Seriously... collision after collision.  And I can't seem to stop it.  But I think I'm beginning to understand that this is not a bad thing.

In the process, I am making friends with the words of Rich Mullins' song...
we are frail, we are fearfully and wonderfully made.  forged in the fires of human passion, choking on the fumes of selfish rage.  with these our hells and our heavens so few inches apart, we must be awfully small and not as strong as we think we are.

If you've heard that song, you know it's beautiful.  And I just get it.  Life, lately, has taught me that my hells and my heavens can be just inches apart.  Abrupt moments of bad news, sorrow, or pain, followed on the heels by unexpected joy and provision.  Heaven and hell on the same day.  It's left me with a new understanding of the frailty and smallness of my own life.  It is completely out of my hands to know how many hells or how many heavens I will see in one day, one week, or one lifetime.

But in that place where my head spins and my heart thumps, my eyes also fly open and before me, I see a beautiful collision...

the frailty of human flesh meeting the gentle grace of God.

confusion meeting compassion.

weakness met by the tender infusing of supernatural strength.

darkness clashing with light.
sin buried by the blood of the Lamb.

humanity coming face-to-face with the beauty of the Gospel--

"God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

You were never meant to save yourself, so the Savior has come to you.

Amen!

So let it come.  In my daily life, I learn the process of welcoming the beautiful collision...

In my weakness, Lord, meet me with a fresh awareness of your strength.  In my frailty, Jesus, overwhelm me with your compassion for humanity.  In my need, Lord, let me know how gracious and willing you are to provide.  When I feel stuck in darkness, Lord, I wait for a collision of your light... where Frail meets Divine... and somehow, in your Sovereign grace and plan, I emerge a different girl.  

Yes, fearfully and wonderfully made.  Humble, grateful, waiting with eager expectation for you. 

give them a flower

There's a scene in the film Braveheart that haunts me... in a way that is very good and very mysterious.  I watch the scene, tears crowd my eyes, and something within me stirs mightily.  I've come to think of that 'stirring' as a movement of the Holy Spirit.  His Almighty, Gentle Whisper saying, 'yes, Daughter, this is for you.  This is what I have called you to.'  It's a mighty moment.

The scene opens with a broken young William Wallace, a child determined to fight back tears at the funeral of his father and brother.  Oh, the tears.  You know they're there, gathering in his heart even as he determines to hold them back.  William is determined to be a brave boy... already, the warrior's heart is in him.  Standing off to the side is the beautiful, innocent child Murron.  She watches William.  He never leaves her gaze.  She knows the tears in his heart.  You wonder if she hopes to offer him comfort, even if just through her gaze.

The funeral ends. Murron's parents usher her away.  William stands alone.  Murron breaks free from her mother's hand, grabs a prickly, pretty purple flower, and holds it out to William.  William looks at her, reaches for the flower, and as they stand there, his tears flow.

Compassion.  Gentleness.  Beauty.  Understanding.

We all need these things.  How we need to be reminded when we cannot see.

I watch the scene unfold before me and tears flow.  I feel the Holy Spirit stirring, moving, whispering all around me.  'Beth, the heart of Murron--I've put it in you.  Give them a flower.  Remind them.'  Yes, Lord.  Is this a part of the mission that You have for me in this life?

I've certainly seen some flower-less days in my life.  When compassion, hope, beauty, understanding just seemed absent.  When I questioned if they ever existed at all.  When I fought to keep the tears in and tried to trick the world into thinking that I really am okay.  When I stood alone.

I have found that somewhere in the course of those moments--sometimes in the most surprising of ways--a prickly, pretty purple flower emerges.  A voice, perhaps the Voice, tells me, 'There is so much more going on here than meets the eye.  You will be fine.  Stand, grab on to me, let me hold you up.  There is rest for your soul.'  How I've needed that.  How grateful I am for the flower-givers in my life. Those moments have changed me.  Grace and compassion in the moments when I am most needful of it.

And along the way, in receiving that grace and kindness, somehow, in a marvelous mystery, they have become a part of me.  They have been given to me to share and to give.  And the more I receive, the more I give.

So the Spirit blows around me and continues to whisper, 'Receive the flowers, Beth.  I leave them around you, for you.  And give the flowers, Beth.  Offer them kindness, grace, compassion, understanding, beauty.  Offer them me.'

What a high, high calling.  So with all my heart, I long to receive the flowers.  And I long to give the flowers.

the friend of brokenness

You could say that I've been sitting in a pile of brokenness this week.  It's not comfortable... not really at all.  I squirm and kick and try to worm my way out... but it doesn't work.  Makes me wonder if sometimes Jesus orchestrates brokenness... maybe we need it more than we know.

It's Friday and I sit at my desk and try to pick up the pieces of what was a pretty messy week.  Life happened fast this week... I couldn't keep up.  I would have much preferred a slower, gentler process.  I'm a 'sit and soak' person--give me options slowly, let me ponder, go into my closet and talk with the Lord for a little while, and I'll return to you with a pretty great response.

But life doesn't always allow for 'sitting and soaking.'  I live among people.  That's usually something that I love, but sometimes, the reality is that people hurt me and ask things of me that are difficult... sometimes, they don't allow me to go to the closet and come back with a great response.  Sometimes, I am wounded and I am hurt... but I am still required to come out and live among the world.

So this afternoon, I find myself sitting in a pile of brokenness.  I don't think my living this week was the prettiest.  I'm pretty sure I could have done better.  I feel kind of haunted by the moments when I should have done better.  I even went through several whole days this week with puffy eyes and big hair!  Oh, the pile of brokenness.  It can be run from... it can be welcomed.  So I stand here and I stare at it--that messy, beautiful pile that at the present time is me...

And softly, I hear a voice whispering to me, reminding me that brokenness was never meant to stand by itself. A friend was given to brokenness a long time ago.  Jesus named her grace.  The amazing thing is that I think the more I choose to embrace my own pile of brokenness, the more I realize that grace has already befriended my brokenness long before I ever knew it--and the more I see and hear the invitation to run and jump and play and dance with grace.

And today, I meet up with an old friend and we have a heart to heart, and afterwards, I get in my car and I drive for a really long time, and I talk to Jesus and I join that dance.

And I join Rich and sing this song...

Moriah

"You're married.  You have the opportunity to be the single most influential person in someone's life every day. What a blessing..."  I found myself speaking these words to my friend just this week.  I surprised myself when I said them... not because I don't believe them.  I do believe them.  Totally.  Entirely.  I just don't think I have spoken them that way before.  

It took me to a deep longing in my soul, to hold that place... to be the single most influential person in a life, to make life better and more beautiful for someone just because I'm in it.  To be his witness, to remind him that his life matters, all of it, no matter what.  We all need that.  How I've longed to be that person for someone.  How I've longed for someone to be that person for me.

It's a beautiful dream.  A beautiful longing.  The Father of my heart knows it well in me.  I know it well in myself... sometimes, so well that it scares me.  But I do love that dream.

Yet, I often find myself putting on Abraham's sandals and walking up the long dusty road to Mt. Moriah... where I go to lay that dream on the altar.  Not because I want it to die.  More than anything, I want it to live and take real, living form in my life.  I suppose I go to Mt. Moriah in faith... "Lord, here's the dream.  I think it's a dream You gave me."  I remind Him that He's the Giver of dreams, and I ask Him to be the Shepherd of this dream and of the heart that holds it.

I suppose I'm still up on that Mt. Moriah... still preparing the sacrifice, still talking to Him, heart wrenching over the meaning of the sacrifice.

But I remember that He has spoken an end to this story... I know of the ram.  The unexpected provision.  The reconciliation after the sacrifice.  The life in the expectation of death.  The joy in the anguish.

I don't know the end of my story.  And standing on my Moriah, I wonder what He is asking of me.  I ask Him, "What do You want me to do?"  I raise the knife, but He does not ask me to lower it.  Instead, He speaks of the ram.  Provision.  Reconciliation.  Life.  Joy.  These have not come to me in the form of a person... yet... but they do come to me every day, in the form of so many different things.  Lately, it has been the kind smile and flower from a favorite old professor.  The kindness of a friend at just the right time.  Words of truth sent to my heart straight from God.  A sunset the peeks above the trees in my office window and beckons me to run outside and sit and be in it.

He only asks me to believe.  That He is the Giver of good gifts... the Lover of our souls... the Father of our hearts, the Maker of our noses, the Giver of our dreams (thanks, Rich).  Moriah is a hard place to be, but it is a place where He is and where He speaks.

And He tells me this...

No distrust made {Abraham} waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what He had promised.  That is why his faith was "counted to him as righteousness."  But the words "it was counted to him" were not written for his sake alone, but for ours also.  It will be counted to us who believe in Him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord, who was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.  (Romans 4)

Blessed be the God who meets with us at Moriah.