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.

unexpected grace

Today, I took a long walk about town.  My town is very old and historic... I love it. There's always something new to explore or find in my wanderings.  I am never disappointed.

So this morning, I left the house and headed out in town in search of some quiet.  Our house is very FULL these days!  Except it was freezing!  Absolutely freezing.  My down vest and mittens were not enough... but I was determined to take this walk.  So I rushed down the street, through the many blocks until I reached our neighborhood coffee shop.  I charged in, ordered my coffee, and received it gratefully.  Coffee in hand, I was in a much better--and warmer--place.

I don't know what it was--quite possibly the coffee (or the warmth!)--but I found myself beginning to slow down... slowing my steps, my thoughts, and my soul.  And when that happens, something changes in me--my heart begins to "center", my soul settles.  Quite suddenly, the eyes and ears of my heart fly open... and it's almost as if Jesus appears right in front of me.  That happened this morning.  I heard a voice... not words, but a voice.  I'll try to put words to what He said.

You're hungry.  Walk down a few blocks.  Try out that new bakery.

I don't know, Lord.  That bakery is near the bad side of town.  I never walk there.

Give it a try.  Enjoy.  You won't be disappointed.

So I walked toward the bad side of town, entered the bakery, and emerged with the very last apple streudel that bakery had to offer.  The first apple streudel I've had since my last trip to Germany.  I was transported to another world-- "ich mochte ein apfel streudel bitte."  And while this apple streudel wasn't nearly as good as the real German variety, I took that streudel as a gift from a God who must love me very much.  But He wasn't done... He spoke again.

Leave the main road.  Try some side streets.  It'll be fun.

Yes, I love side streets!... but I'm in the bad part of town.  I sorta think I should stick to the main road.

(meanwhile, Rodney Atkins' "Take a Back Road" is playing in my head) =)

Go for it.  Enjoy.  You won't be disappointed.

So I took the side street.  And before my eyes emerged a great gray steeple... and then a beautiful old stone church-- the Methodist Episcopal Church from 1790.  So old!  Then... next to it was a little red building with a small sign-- "historic one room school house, built 1790."  Of course, it's not in use these days... preserved for posterity, I suppose.  But I love history.  And I love stumbling upon landmarks that I didn't know existed... especially in my own community.  And these two were beautiful.  I stopped and I stared... I was not disappointed.  But then came the Voice again.

Keep going.  There's more.

I'd love to see more, Lord, but I'm in the bad part of town.  And I'm by myself.

You have your coffee.  You'll be fine. (I think He smiled when He said that).  Keep going.  Enjoy.  You won't be disappointed.  

So I kept walking--in the "bad" part of town--and I passed two neighbors.  One a little old man, and the other, a young man.  The old man turned to me, smiled, and said, "You look cold, little lady.  Make sure you warm up soon."  I smiled and said, "I have my coffee.  I'm fine."  (Jesus said it first!). ;)  The young man passed me and with a big smile said, "Merry Christmas!"  (not Happy Holidays)  Unexpected grace and neighborly kindness in the "bad" part of town.  I was not disappointed.  Then, I met Stan and his daughter Carly and their two sheltie dogs, Shilo and Howie.  I even got to pet those big puffs of fur... I loved it.

I love it that we just never know when Jesus will show up in the normalcy of our lives.  I was rushing, cold, and determined to get a cup of coffee before I turned into the female version of Frosty the Snowman... but then Jesus showed up.  And the next thing I know, I have an apple streudel, old church and school house, and friendly new neighbors.  He is so unexpected in His grace sometimes... it's quite beautiful.  He's quite beautiful.  Writing about it draws me to love Him more.  I can't imagine how big His heart must be.

Enjoy... you won't be disappointed.  Thanks, Lord.

peace

My old green sweatpants, Phillies sweatshirt, hair in a pile on the top of my head, reading students' papers, and Handel's Messiah in the background...

and out of nowhere I hear it--
unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall be upon His shoulders... 
and His name shall be call-ed... 
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace

Some music is so beautiful... so beautiful that I don't know what to do with it... except listen and take it in.  It leads me to imagine heaven and all of the angels and every living creature singing around and to and for Jesus.
This is one of those songs.

Praise Jesus.  Tonight, in my room, in my end-of-the-semester exhaustion, as I mark papers... this song speaks peace to me.  For us, Jesus came and is here now as God with us.  That changes everything.

This Christmas, may peace continue to filter through our craziness and touch our hearts.  May we see Him.

an adventure within an adventure

I absolutely love adventures.  Whether it involves hopping on a plane and traveling to a foreign country or curiously stumbling on a new place in my hometown, I am totally game.  I love adventures of any (and every!) kind.  I had the wonderful privilege of visiting my dear friend E for Thanksgiving... I spent about 4 days with her and so enjoyed that time with her and her family.

Well... E just happens to live in NH, about 4 hours away from where my parents live in ME.  So my parents and I concocted a grand plan that we would each drive 2 hours and meet for lunch in the middle of the great state of Maine.  I woke up early on Saturday morning (well, early for me, early for a holiday) and started out on my incredible journey.

It really was incredible.  It wasn't long before I found myself driving through the White Mountain National Forest in NH, completely surrounded by mountains-- driving in mountains, over mountains, around mountains, through mountains.  I would drive around one mountain and find another mountain in front of me, still to be driven over.  Some had snow, some did not.  Some had trees, some just rock.  So many mountains... I could have been in heaven.  I almost jumped out of the seat of my car when I passed a sign that said "Mt. Washington-- turn left."  Seriously??!!  Mount Washington--the highest mountain on the East?!  I almost followed that sign, but I had lunch and my mom and dad waiting for me.  But I looked around me and I'm pretty sure I spotted that grand mountain in the distance.

And then there were the small towns... all small but all so different.  Charming, simple, spread out, clustered... old shops, old cars, old gas pumps.  I could have stopped and explored every one of them.  But again, lunch was waiting for me... I kept driving.

About halfway there, I realized that I really needed my camera.  So I made a deal with myself that on my drive home, I would meander for as long as I wanted to, snap as many pictures as I wanted to, leave myself no time limits to see everything that I wanted to see.

So I did.  And it worked... until the sky turned pitch black and I could no longer see.  And mountainous, country roads are crazy in pitch black!  But anyway, it was fun.  I pulled the car off and snapped pictures for as long as I could.  I enjoyed documenting my journey...

so grateful to spend time with ma and pa (and Dooley) before hitting the road... 

my new moose hat to keep my head warm

huge icy, icy, FAST waterfall... in the middle of a town!

I think I have a fascination with old bridges.  I passed so many in the small towns and I could have stopped to take pictures of all of them.  But I only took a picture of this one... I'm pretty sure I drove over this one.

I asked Jesus to bring a moose across my path, but He did not... as far as I know.  I'm sure He had His reasons. =)  So I took a picture of this fake one.

I made friends with a giant lumberjack (there are many of them in Maine) =)

Ah, the Appalachian Trail.  I dream of one day doing the whole thing!  For now, I just enjoy the northern part.  

And Mt. Washington... just beautiful.

After that, it was dark.  But I still loved the adventure.  It's a great blessing be pulled out of your normal world for a bit of time and hit the road to experience what's new.  I open my eyes, take it all in, my spirit soars... I open my ears, listen for the still, small Voice... and yes, He tells me He's here too.  What a great adventure.

dancing in the driveway

Tonight... I danced in the driveway.  I had made vegetable soup for dinner and ran out in the crisp night air to drop the can in the recycle bucket at the end of the driveway.  Except I couldn't come back in the house... I just couldn't.  Maybe it was the combination of the crisp night air, the clear sky and almost full moon, and the stillness that just seemed to surround me... I don't know... but all I could do was dance--shoeless and in my pajamas--dance around the driveway, take in the beauty, and thank Jesus for meeting me in that moment.

In my dancing, I felt the wind blow.  A strong but gentle wind blew around me... swirling as I ran and danced around.  I remembered how Jesus likened the wind to the Spirit... how He blows and swirls around us and we don't know where He comes from or where He's going.  But we listen for Him and we follow.  So tonight, He blew... and His blowing was a blessed reminder to me that He's here, present, now.

How I just want to live my whole life dancing with Him... taking Him in... letting Him take me in... and moving through this life together.

I have the feeling that my heart is being set free just a bit more deeply in these moments.  The past few months have been full of many things, but mostly pressure... I have been oh so sensitively aware of my own performance, and lack of it.  My expectations have been high and response harsh when expectations are not met.  In these times, I suppose grace has been more of a concept than a present reality.  How I've missed it.

But then come the moments when I try to take a can to the recycle bucket... and I'm completely knocked off my feet by grace.  The sky, the air, the moon, the stars, and the wind... they all whisper to me of the gifts that are mine to enjoy.  And they whisper to me of a God who shattered all expectations when He died on a cross... and crushed all pressure when He burst up from a grave.

How I love that God.  How I long to see Him but how often I miss Him when the pressures and the expectations do crowd in.  So I continue to look to heaven, strain my eyes and my heart toward Him, and ask Him to continue to show up in the simple moments of life.  And He does in the craziest of ways-- seriously, Lord, in my fuzzy green socks with a can of vegetable soup in my hand?  In the driveway?  What will the neighbors think?  But still we dance... and when I come back into the house, I am not the same girl.  Thank the Lord, I meet Him and I come back different.

I continue to believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living!  Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!   ~Ps 27:13-14