Good News Train

Mac developed some film for me for Christmas--Here's a favorite photo from our summer cross-country road trip!

I recently realized something about myself:  I am not very forthcoming with good news.  It's strange.  I'm not that shy about telling people my struggles, but I have the hardest time telling people about good stuff when it happens.  It's almost as if I don't really believe it...or maybe I don't trust it.  As if I think the good news is going to disappear once it's spoken outloud and I'll be standing around like an emperor without clothes.  It often happens that, rather than being thankful and celebrating all I've been given, I live in fear that it won't last and I forecast depression on an otherwise pretty bright future.  It's ridiculous, really.

I've been thinking about this because I've had a lot of people act surprised when they find out I have a job--a 'real' job, not seasonal retail or temp labor (though I'm thankful I had that when I did).  It makes me sad I've been so tight-fisted with this information.  So here I go...the law office I had been working for on a temporary basis has offered to keep me on indefinitely, and is training me to be a legal secretary/assistant.  They have been really good to me--patient and kind and generous.  And I actually enjoy my job...fancy that!  Right now it's only part-time, so something will need to change, but...I don't know...deep down I feel like it's taken care of, and what's required of me is just to work well and be grateful. 

God is so good to me, even when I can be an unthankful little brat (my words, not His).  It feels refreshing to share good news with you.  Speaking of good news, my husband and our music pastor are singing When Peace Like A River (It Is Well With My Soul) in the living room as I write.  Talk about being thankful.  The full story of that song is here, but it was written by a man who lost nearly everything...including 4 daughters in a sinking ship.  I remember my dad singing this song in church and getting teary-eyed.  I guess he was thinking of us.  Yeah, I've got a lot to be thankful for.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Confession

So, I was logging in to write a random short post about my favorite pair of shoes when I stopped to read the latest posts from friends whose blogs I follow.  Two of them (and I only follow about 5) were about Haiti relief, and I suddenly realized something that's been sneaking up on me for some time.  I have become someone who has grown quite comfortable with avoiding bad news...well, with avoiding news altogether I think, but the presumption is that it's really the bad news I'm avoiding. 

I guess I don't always know what to do in the face of it all.  I feel overwhelmed, and I often choose to bury my head in the sand.  This makes me pretty sad because I think God's given me a perfectly good head.  I guess the trouble is that He's also given me a heart that is prone to growing too big and heavy for me to carry on my own...so rather than going to Him with it, I turn a blind eye to protect my selfish heart.  I can't help but think this makes God sad too.

I was so encouraged to read in the article that Katie posted (from Imago Dei Community), that one of the first opportunities we have to get involved is simply prayer:  "We have access to the God of all creation in prayer. There is perhaps no more powerful resource we have than to turn to our Father and seek him on behalf of the people and the tragedy in Haiti."  (For ideas on specific needs to pray for, see article).  How easy it is to overlook this powerful opportunity to serve people.  Why is that?  Maybe as Americans we've just grown so used to throwing money at a problem in order to "fix" it.  I'm not saying we should stop giving.  I love that Americans tend to be so generous in the face of crisis and need.  I just have a couple issues with it.  1)  (Speaking selfishly, because I am more and more discovering what a selfish beast I am)  It makes me feel powerless when I am in a position where I want to give so bad and can't.  2)  I think when we are able to "fix" things with money, we are (I am) tempted to forget our need for God and we (I) fail to trust and pray.  3)  I think some part of us thinks that with enough money, a problem will go away.  But the problems of the world go so much deeper, and they extend so far beyond any given crisis.  We live in a broken world where opportunities to give and serve (and pray!) surround us at any given moment.

So...I am feeling both challenged (not to bury my head in the sand anymore) and encouraged (that there may well be times when I can't board the next plane or even give money to help...but I can always, always pray).  I don't exactly know the ways that God has called me to be His love in the world, but I sure as heck (can I say that?) want to spend my life finding out.  Maybe it changes with each day or season.  For today, I pray.  

Context

I feel like I should add some context to my middle of the night notes from a few days back.  I have always been someone who struggles with a lot of fear, anxiety and (little wonder) depression.  So I often find that I'm surviving life like an attack and therefore, I'm always looking for someone or someones or something to save me.  Sometimes I guess I have to hit rock bottom before I'll finally look up.  When I did, I found that I already have Someone who saved and saves me.  Every day, every hour, every second...God saves me.  When will I ever get it and stop looking elsewhere?  I am so tired of making myself and everyone I lean on miserable in my empty search for what's already been found.  Either He is all the love, hope, life, joy, acceptance, approval and glory I need...or He's not.  There is no room for lukewarm sentiments here.  I for one want to believe.  God, I believe in my head...help my unbelief in my heart.

On my drives to work last week, I started listening to a podcast series from my friend Katie's church in Oregon (Imago Dei, also Donald Miller's church).  The series was entitled Rugged Spirituality and deals with the life of David, king and writer of many Psalms (one of which contains my favorite verse).  Anyway, what I had heard that particular morning was this.  We all find ourselves in a wilderness at some time or another.  In David's wilderness, he learned to pray.  The prayers he prayed in the wilderness (running for his life!) are some of my favorite Psalms today.  So think about this...when we find ourselves in a wilderness, it just might be an opportunity for us to learn to really pray from our guts...and that just might be something God uses to bless the whole world--even future generations--through us.

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning...

A hard fought lesson:

The thing about God is, either He's it or He's not.  Maybe it's time to stop looking and believe.

I don't know if anyone else needs to hear this too...I just know things changed when I did.  If you say you believe God and yet are still looking for someone to die for you, approve of you, tell you belong, call you family, know you deeply and love you unfailingly...you are hurting yourself.  There's only one who can hear your heart's cry at any time of day or night--whether it's expressed in words, broken sobs, or just plain old heart wrenching.  So what are you waiting for, my friend?  Cry out.

Merry Christmas Blues

Taking a Starbucks break on our Christmas walk--thank you, husband...you are my very favorite gift.

It seems like it's hard not to feel blue about Christmas at some point.  Whether it's leading up to it...during...or the day after when it's all over.  Some part of me wonders if we're not all reaching for something that we'll never fully find until Jesus comes again.  The fullness of eternal peace, joy, and life.  Unity, family, and a home.  Maybe there's something deep within us, reminding us through some kind of longing ache, that what Jesus came to do is not quite finished yet.  There is more to the story...more to hope for...and this, as good as it is, is not as good as it gets. 

As long as there is breath inside us, there is opportunity to hope.  But hope, I find, is rather hard work.  Work enough to last me the remaining 364 days of the year.  I'll be honest, there is a part of me that is struggling to let go of this year.  So many wonderful things happened in 2009.  So many stories I had always secretly hoped for and dreamed of finally came true.  There is a part of me that does not dare to keep 'hoping forward', I guess.  It seems much safer to remain somehow stuck in time (forever teetering on that dangerous border between contentment and just plain settling).  Of course I know this is nonsense, and so rather clumsily, I will move forward with the rest of the world into a brand new year.  I will do the work of dreaming, hoping and praying...for more adventures and answers to come.

Hope is the opposite of giving up.  When I am tempted to give up (and that is much more often than I care to admit...though much less often than it used to be, I believe...), I hope I remember words like the ones I read today...

I cry out to the Lord;

I plead for the Lord's mercy.

I pour out my complaints before him

and tell him all my troubles.

When I am overwhelmed,

you alone know the way I should turn.

I look for someone to come and help me,

but no one gives me a passing thought!

......

Then I pray to you, O Lord.

I say, "You are my place of refuge.

You are all I really want in life."

-from Psalm 142-

Sometimes I feel stupid for writing the things I do.  I'm glad David didn't...or at least...didn't let it stop him.

The Best of Times, etc.

This photo has nothing to do with the post--I'm just so excited to see leaves that change color!

In high school English, we were supposed to read Charles Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities.  I read just enough to 1) Know that it was the best of times and it was the worst of times, 2) Understand why, when I took up knitting, my best friend nicknamed me Madame Defarge and 3) Make me want to actually read it now that I am an adult of my own free will.

The thing is...and this is a tragically lame comparison, I know...but I have been thinking about Dickens' words a lot lately in regards to this year.  It's been the best of times (being serenaded on Skype, falling in love with the handsomest, funniest, most thoughtful, understanding, best-dressed cowboy singer and all-around favorite man on the planet, being proposed to on bended knee with magnetic poetry, shopping for a wedding dress with my mom, taking a tour of photobooths on a roadtrip across the USA, a bachelorette party of two with my best friend, getting married in a WWII lookout shelter overlooking the Pacific Ocean on one miraculously unfoggy day in April, spending the summer on Flathead Lake with my new family and two of the best doggies ever, building a cozy little summer home above the garage, sharing all of this with family and friends at our reception and going away party in July, heading off into the sunset for a new life in Austin, TX, finding a new church and friends that welcomed us in, settling into our first apartment, making Thanksgiving dinner with each other like we dreamed of one year ago) and it's been the worst of times in some ways too...(learning to navigate a strange new city and way of life, being unemployed and unable to find a steady job for 9 months, wondering how we're going to make it, application after application, interview after interview, rejection after rejection, finding out how selfish I am when living side by side with another human being, facing up to my fears about love, marriage, new things, looking stupid, driving and everything else imaginable, starting completely over with every person I meet and finding myself without a reputation, a career, a common background, an image or some kind of attraction to stand on, missing my family and friends like they will never know).

 It's no Dickens tale, I know, but still.  In the best of times (and reflections thereupon) I feel toppled over with blessings and the vast, undeserved love of God poured out.  In the worst of times (and unrecommended reflections thereupon) I feel uncapable, abandoned, forgotten and alone.  I know through and through that God always loves and cares for us, but sometimes I don't understand when I can't see Him acting on that. 

Well, my mischievous husband just sneaked up from behind and scared the stuffing out of me and I seem to have lost my train of thought (which is bound to produce a "WOW" from said husband when I later catch him reading this post).  It doesn't matter much, because the conclusion of my story is and will always be that God is in control and I love Him and trust Him...Besides, Madame Defarge has a lot of knitting to do.  Thanks for indulging my rambling.  In the process of doing so, I discovered it is much easier and much more fun to recall the best of times.  I'm pretty sure they always outnumber the worst of times anyway.  And besides...my worst is circus peanuts compared to some people's...so I should just stop whining.

*Note to Mr. Dickens--I'm sorry I massacred your masterpiece.  One day soon I will actually read it and feel quite stupid, I'm sure.  Incidentally, I do hope your story's conclusion was the same as mine...

Can it, Worms!

Saturday morning at breakfast, we opened up a can of worms.  I asked Mac if he missed Boston (where he had been living before we married, honeymooned in the Northwest and moved to Texas).  He said, "Not really," other than that he missed playing music.  Then he asked if I missed Missoula (Montana, where I had been living before we married, etc.).  Herein lay the worms.  "Yes," I said.  (Every day, I thought).  And so, he kindly and bravely proceeded to ask what I missed.  I don't think I had allowed myself the luxury of voicing it before, which as it turns out, was perhaps the wisest thing.  All of the sudden I missed it so much, I managed to turn an otherwise sunny Texas day into a rather vivid shade of blue. 

 So.  Rather than bore you (and depress me) with all the things I miss about home, and bein' that it's Thanksgiving time and all...I've decided to list all the things I do really like about living here.  Can it, worms.

1. The people.  In general, people are super friendly here...but beyond that, we have made some amazing friends who have made us feel so loved and welcomed.
2. Our church family.  Again...loved and welcomed us more than any I've ever been in.  I know we are where God wants us to be.
3. The sunshine.  Sure I miss the seasons (oops, it slipped out), but I have to admit the almost constant sunshine is wonderful.  I actually think people are emotionally healthier here because of it.  Besides, knowing I'll probably never have to scrape a car window is heavenly.
4. The rain.  Someone told me that Austin gets more rain than Seattle, we just get it all in dumps.  I believe it too.  When it rains here, it POURS.  And I adore a good dump of rain.
5. Austin is one of the craftingest, thriftingest towns I've ever seen.  You can guess how I feel about that.
6. Maybe it's just the crowd I've fallen into...but women seem more secure and well-adjusted here.  I have yet to hear one who even hints at thinking she is fat or ugly.  I know this seems like an odd comment, but I kind of grew up thinking that's just what women did...so it's weird--and nice--to see something else.
7. The recent discovery of a grocery store that carries a bunch of my hard-to-find favorites:  fruity tootsie-rolls, milk & dark chocolate covered honeycomb, carob raisins (and maltballs, which I have yet to try), dried chile mangos (and pineapples!?), Silk nog (and pumpkin spice Silk which I also haven't tried)...and in general...just more vats of snacky goodness to sample in bulk.  Annnnnd said store is located right by Michael's (which has been selling wool yarn on the cheap), Barnes & Noble (which apparently has free wi-fi now), and World Market (which sells Haribo gummies and my dream couch).
8. Everyone needs a chance to start over somewhere...sometime.  I've got the best husband and friend in the world to do just that with.

There's a ton more, I'm sure.  A ton more to discover.  31 years old and making a home in a new place for the first time...I guess it all just takes time.

The Little Things

I'm fairly obsessed with these Pom-Pom Trees here in Texas.  (Anyone knowing their proper name should feel quite free to correct me--I'd correct myself if I wasn't so tired).

I'm also pretty much wonderstruck at the sight of this.  One thorny Pom-Pom escaping to make its new home on a telephone wire.

Most often, it's the little things that keep me churning, and every once in a while, I have to check myself. When my wondermeter's off, so am I...and it usually means I must look up instead of down.

Coffee & L'Engle

(jottings in this book are not my own--I bought it 2nd hand)

Tired.  Jumbled.  Lacking the proper words to explain the profoundness of what I feel...what is going on inside of me.  This is a picture of today.

I have been wondering for a few days what my voice is doing here.  What I have to say...who I am and why I'm here.  Questions I usually forget to ask until after I have opened my mouth to speak.  Or opened my computer to write, whatever.  Questions which, like all good questions, come to me in the strangest forms.  Words from a contestant on Project Runway (expressing the idea that there may be a lot of talented creators in the room, but most of them still haven't figured out what they're trying to say), a silly little blog that still doesn't know what it's supposed to be, the Psalm that I read this morning (Psalm 39), and a new old book that I decided to take down from my shelf and read today for the first time (Walking on Water, Reflections on Faith & Art by Madeleine L'Engle). 

This morning I felt like a threadbare patchwork quilt.  The physical, the spiritual, the creative and the practical me's tidily segmented and barely stitched together.  But tonight, I feel like...a pot of stew.  One that maybe hasn't been stirred for a while, but is beginning to be stirred again.  I don't want to be a pieced together life;  I want to be a seamless life.  I want who I am and what I say and wear and do and love to be a walking mystery that only God could create, not a sloppy assemblage of all the various things I am trying to be at any given moment in time.  I want all the meager little creations that find life through my feeble expression to be an extension of all of the above.  A tiny, tiny extension of the vast mystery of God.*

Now in the end, as always seems to be the case, my metaphors break both legs and cease to run.  Because, yes if I had to choose an inanimate object to be...I'd probably much rather be a quilt than a pot of stew.  But bear with me just until the point is made.  Afterall, I told you I lacked the words.

So, did I mention that this book I've started is amazing?  It's exactly what I need to be reading right now.  And did I mention that this cup of extreme coffee-like beverage was so rough that it left me feeling sick all day...so much so that I could do nothing but lay down in bed and read more of this amazing book?  I don't think I did.

*A fragrant, nourishing, tasty bite of stew, if you will...and I dearly hope you will (forgive me my sometimes runaway, sometimes crippled up metaphors).