letter to a friend

Dear Friend,

As I write this, I think of how it's just the kind of day here that you say you love: overcast and cloudy, raindrops pelting the pavement, forming ankle-deep puddles in the landscape outside my window. It's an introspective kind of day and I wanted to share some things with you.

I suppose it's natural that as this year draws to a close, that I pause to look over my shoulder and remember what has been. 2007 has been full for me: two break-ups, a completely funky and undiagnosed stomach condition, a new job, a new house, having my dreams for writing come to the fore, and cutting this brush through the wilds of faith. I think of how our Yahweh brought us together again after years of not seeing one another and how what we have now is deep and amazing and baffling and so full of love and higher things. I have been considering what all these big changes and transitions are in my life, and I can't help but think of how instrumental you have been in helping me move through them: you have been loving, available, and walked beside me even though neither of us understood. Your heart journeyed closely beside my own somehow, mysteriously but unmistakably across the miles. You invited me to walk beside you too, a privilege that is not lost on me. I am honored to have a place beside you, to be witness to the grace and mercy and love that is unfolding and blooming so beautifully in your own heart. How this all happened I can't really know, except that your being here made the going better and kept me moving when I was most in danger of losing steam.

I can't help but think that had it not been for your presence, your ability to be a vessel for Christ, that all those things would have me assuming a fetal position some days, utterly overwhelmed and cowering under the covers, losing hope and faith and lessons and the grace that was mysteriously lavished on me through it all. Watching you helped me to give my own heart and mind and messiness to God with open hands, trusting with the smallest measure of faith that He'd bring something out of it. And now He's truly given me beauty for ashes. Because I've seen God give us abundantly more than we could ever ask or dream or imagine in return for what pathetic little offerings we give to Him, I believe with greater certainty than ever that He truly has us at the center of His heart. It is all too magnificent to comprehend, and this is only a shadow of what we look forward to. I'm in utter marvel!!

You friendship was a buoy when I felt otherwise lost at sea. I know you also encountered plenty over the past year that must have made you feel this way, too. If we had to feel shipwrecked, I'm glad we were together in it, trusting that we'd be swept home by heaven-sent currents.

God is great, my friend. So great. And I just wanted to let you know that you have a lot to do with the fact that I know that for sure.

cat's eye view of christmas

Meet Slater, my family's 11-year-old mane coon cat. Slater enjoys playing with long curly ribbon, burrowing under massive piles of wrapping paper, and posing for the camera.

kittycat christmas photos by kirsten.michelle

learning self-care

There are many things these days that have prompted me to take some personal inventory. Having taken some time to do this, it stikes me that sometimes the simplest lessons are the hardest to learn.

I've had much on my plate these days: increasing demands on my time with work over the last several months (50-60 hour weeks have become the norm temporarily), some mind-bending life transitions, relational ups & downs, and facing a milestone birthday. On top of all this, I've been thriving creatively and have been struggling to give adequate time to pursue those things that inspire and quicken my heart.

All these things are causing me to pause and take stock: to assess where my life is at in relation to where I want it to be and to examine how my day to day activities and behaviors reflect what I truly value (the planner can be quite telling!). I can hardly be objective where I am concerned, but if I were an onlooker into my own life, I'd probably tell myself this:

• Work less hours and don't be afraid to take time for yourself.
• Say "no" when you don't want to commit to something and don't feel guilty or apologetic for it. People might think you are selfish, irresponsible, flaky, or rude. They will always have their own ideas of what you should be doing. But they're not taking care of you: you are, and you are in the best position to know what is good for you and what you need.
• Spend more time with the people you like and don't get miffed when they tell you you're working too much and that they're disappointed they don't get to see you as much as they'd like.
• No one else has all the answers; don't expect that you are an exception to this.
• Be kind and gracious to yourself; you cannot give others what you are not willing to receive for yourself.
• Take care of your heart and don't try to ignore or talk it out if what it needs. A wise man once said it is the wellspring of life, and you would do well to tend to it, feed it, defend it, and fight for it when necessary.
• Not every good thing demands your "yes". Learn to know what you can handle, and expect that in order to safeguard your heart and your wellness, you will sometimes have to say "no" to some good & worthwhile things.
• Be willing to stumble a little (or a lot) and to step into the unknown. No one who realizes their dreams does so without risk.
• Exercise patience with yourself: it does no good to get stuck browbeating yourself for perceived failures and shortfalls. Acknowledge them honestly and accept the lessons they offer as a gift. Let them inspire forward movement.
• Approach God with open hands, always. Allow Him to take away or give as He will, always trusting His goodness in whatever He does. NOTE: this will (no doubt) mean tears and heartache. Take this as gift also, it means you are alive and living fully.
• Enjoy life!! Soak in the beauty around you, laugh, and take the opportunity to indulge in simple pleasures.

A year or two ago, many of these things would have sounded selfish or like sentimental fluff to me. I am someone who loves to give and have been in the habit of extending myself without taking care to ensure that I was staying filled, healthy, and whole. It's a great recipe for burnout! I've heard it so often (and have probably advised others) that you must be responsible for caring for yourself before you can extend it to others. My personal beliefs are finally moving in this direction, letting go of those cement bags of guilt that have been hindering me from fully embodying this value. How I spend my time is now a better reflection of those things in which I place value.

I envision a ripple effect in my relationships. After all, I cannot approach God or any human relationship with integrity if I sabotage my end of the relationship by coming in ignorance of myself or by refusing to let go of self-defeating behaviors. By placing a higher value on self-care, I will be a better friend, daughter, and child of God. More fully invested in myself, I will truly be able to live life to its fullest.

treating myself

So not only did I buy myself a snazzy new digital camera, but I stumbled upon something pretty too. I've long wanted a messenger bag since I am constantly toting armloads of stuff (planner, books, etc.) to work. Typically favoring function over form, I broke the mold when I went in search of my new bag.

Some bags were too big. Some bags were too black. Some were too masculine-looking.

This one was just right. It called to me from the computer screen -- super-cute and does the job of toting my stuff around. And what's even better is that I bought it via Etsy.com directly from the lovely gal who made it with her own two hands.

Check out more Kitty Empire goods.

drumroll please ...

And the winner of the great Listening Is An Act of Love giveaway is ...

Chloe!!

If it were feasible, I would love to send each and every one of you a copy of this gift set. It's just that special. You may still be able to purchase your own at a local Starbucks (and at clearance prices, to boot); if that's not an option, you can purchase the book or audio CD at Amazon.com. Until your own copies arrive, don't forget that you can whet your appetite by listening to snippets at the StoryCorps website.

Chloe, please send me an e-mail via the link on my profile page with your address information. And don't be surprised if a Pacific Northwest-y thing or two manages to jump into the box. :o)

Merry Christmas!

everyone has a story to tell

Have you all heard of StoryCorps?

StoryCorps was founded by Dave Isay, a familiar voice to NPR listeners. StoryCorps began with the simple idea that everyone has an important story to tell. With that in mind, Dave Isay and his StoryCorps teams traveled the country to small towns and large cities with mobile recording booths collecting the stories of everyday Americans from a variety of generations, backgrounds, and walks of life.

The Listening is an Act of Love Deluxe Gift Collection (which includes a hardback book, an audio CD with ten selected stories, and a companion book with few ideas on how to collect stories of your own) caught my eye at Starbucks the other day. I perused the description on the back of the box. Hmm. It made me think of Christianne and her work collecting the stories of hospice patients. I turned it over in my hands, intrigued, but left without purchasing it. This morning that I went back and purchased my own copy.

I listened to the CD when I got to work, barely able to contain my tears. These people are your friends, your grandparents, your neighbors; they are in line with you at the grocery store, they sit in the row behind you at church. And they all have remarkable stories to tell if only someone will ask and listen. There are stories from the Great Depression, from the ER, from military wives, from teenagers, from young couples, and from those who have enjoyed years beyond their golden anniversaries. There are stories of loss and of separation, stories of first loves, the deaths of parents, the loss of children. There are stories from Hurricane Katrina, from 9/11, from the trenches in the Middle East. A common thread of love runs through them all. You don’t need to know the people to be moved by the stories they tell.

It made me think of blogging and how those of us in this sphere are essentially writing our own stories as we move through our lives. It made me think of how our stories connect, and how that connection is a seed from which community grows. We all have stories. And I think we all want our stories to be validated somehow; we want to share them, we want them not to be forgotten. We use them to connect with one another in this virtual blogging space.

Especially at this time of year, I’m mindful of how I can be most generous with those I love. It has nothing to do with how much I spend, how big the box is, or how long I spent in line waiting to purchase it. I think the gift of listening to the stories of the lives around me is a gift. Validating their stories and our stories together. I think of the stories my grandparents have told, and how sad it would be if they were lost. I think of my parents’ stories, of my siblings’ stories. I’m inspired to collect their stories, to really listen, to record them, to write them down. To ask the thoughtful questions. After hearing some of these stories, I cannot think of a better gift.

So this is what I’m going to do to spread the love (thanks to Blue Mountain Mama for this wonderful idea): I’m purchasing an extra copy of this book/CD set. I'm going to send the extra set to one lucky reader. Leave a comment here by Saturday the 15th. I’ll drop all the names into a bowl and pull one out on Sunday. I’ll send it to you (most likely after the holiday mailing rush has passed), and then you can enjoy it too.

Merry Christmas, all! May the gift of Love be yours.


NOTES:
** If interested, you can purchase a copy of the book or the audio CD from Amazon.com.

For a sampling of stories, you can go directly to the StoryCorps website and click on “Listen to Stories” to hear 2-3 minute snippets of StoryCorps’ work. If you're anything like me, you'll get addicted to these moving first-hand narratives!

P.S. Check it out! Click here and scroll down to "On the Blogs". Too cool!

dissolution of my dichotomies

God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn’t. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.
C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

I wish I had the answers. I wish I were more certain. I wish that after a single great struggle, all those struggles yet to come would cower in its wake and I could just kick up my feet and coast through my days with profound and utter certainty. Perplexity would be vanquished, doubt a thing of the past.

Even when those occasionally intellectual places in myself are functioning at their peak, I somehow continue to aspire to the belief that one day, this absurd fantasy just might come true: it will all make perfect sense, one day all loose ends will be tied. I will experience no more confusion or mystery. I’ll write the book and my work here will be done. I wish.

I wish. I wish. I wish.

Truth is, I’m angry at God right now. After several weeks of avoidance, I really just acknowledged it a few days ago. I cringe at my own words; I do not want to be, but I’m angry with Him, with what He’s doing and not doing in my life right now. On the thinking-feeling scale, I tend to lean heavily toward the former. It’s not that I’m not emotional, but I rely more on my intellect to drive me. And when I have an unpleasant emotion like anger or sadness, I attempt to rationalize my way out of it. Instead of having the emotion and learning to express it in a healthy way, I bargain with it. I negotiate with it as if it were holding me hostage. It hasn’t worked yet, but I continue to try. My propensity to barter with my heart is so automatic that most of the time I do not even recognize when it’s happening.

I’ve questioned what He’s about. As I break into new territory where my faith is concerned, I question why He would choose now when I’m at my most vulnerable to strip those things I’ve relied upon. In regards to my faith, I’ve never felt more stranger and alien; He chooses now to take away certain comforts and place limits on relationships, to make me less understood by those who were once my familiars. To take me to this new place alone, one that I did not actively seek, but stumbled upon in the pursuit of an altogether different dream.

I’ve moved forward in spite of feeling so tentative, in spite of my heartstrings pulling me backward. At first I couldn’t recognize why my forward movement was so timid when my intellect was so persuaded. I recently recognized this familiar pattern: before my heart had the opportunity to recognize anything resembling anger, I attempted to subdue it not only with well-constructed arguments, but with Scripture as well:
Take up your cross and follow me.
No one who puts his hand to the plow and turns back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.
He who loves his father or mother … son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.

But my heart still does not follow. I read the words and I think I’ve got a good handle on what they mean. I just don’t like it; I resist and I wince, knowing what they require of me. I don’t want to draw lines, hold boundaries, or restrict friendships. I don’t want people to think I’m crazy or rash or impulsive. And I definitely don’t want anyone to disagree with or scrutinize my decisions. It seems so petty to say it, so terribly shallow. And maybe it is. No sooner do my thoughts and the feelings they inspire take shape than I realize there is a good answer for them. I am not encountering anything that wasn’t promised. But I still want to scream.

I know that a life of faith requires sacrifice and yet I object to what is demanded of me; I give with a heart that is less than cheerful or generous in the offering. It hurts, I plead. To which my intellect says, so what? God promises us many things; easy is definitely not on the list. So where and why is the disconnect?

What I’ve come to know with increasing familiarity in recent weeks is that there is a gap between God and I that exists by virtue of me being finite and His being infinite. It is vain to expect that I could ever wrap my tiny little flesh-bound brain around God and all his God-ness. I’m fairly certain this -- my inability to understand -- is what lies at the root of my anger and what keeps my reluctance well-fed.

As I learn to embrace my faith in a new way, I am learning to see a far more expansive picture of God than I ever have before. God is the embodiment of what our minds might deem polar opposites:

He is mercy. He is justice.
He is grace. He is law.
He is compassion. He is authority.
He is gentle. He is powerful.
He is comforter. He is rebuker.
He is rest. He is go forth.
He is peace. He is the sword.
He is neither do I condemn you. He is go and sin no more.
He is the lamb. He is the lion.

And the list goes on.

Because of my limitations as a human being, I cannot wrap my mind around how He simultaneously personifies these and countless other seeming opposites in all their fullness. I’m willing to bet these are not opposites at all where God is concerned. My tendency has been to favor one trait over the other or make them entirely circumstantial depending on who I think He needs to be. It makes it simpler for me to break it down, to tend toward an either/or way of thinking of Him, because fully embracing the notion that He’s all these things at once far supersedes my cognitive abilities. Breaking it down gives me the illusion that God’s character is somehow subject to my whims and personal needs. It’s not that I think God is not personal, because I know He is. But if this process has taught me anything, it is that if we present ourselves to Him with open hands asking to be led, He will gladly take us up on the offer and the God we meet may not be who we expect. While I implicitly trust He has our best in mind, that path toward our best may be at times a spare and empty one, devoid of clarity and answers, and perhaps without those peripheral inducements strewn on the path like breadcrumbs to entice us forward.

I can’t make sense of this. God utterly defies the dichotomies I’ve favored and lived by, and all my former perceptions are reduced to ash as a result. He is shattering my former ways of knowing Him; He will never fit in my understanding. The minute I try and wrap my head around any of this experience, boil it down and make sense of it is the minute I make Him infinitesimally smaller than He is.

Perhaps this is why Solomon advises do not lean on your own understanding. Nothing contained within our understandings could possibly allow God to be God. Any god held so neatly within our minds is one we fabricate for ourselves; it is an idol and not God at all.

How am I to grasp that He is one and the same who gives me everything and demands it all in return, who comforts and corrects, who gives grace and demands perfection, who is gentle and who is fierce?

I can no more hold all this in my mind than I can hold Him in the palm of my hand. I must learn to resign my ability to understand and allow myself to be enfolded in Him, to be led by Him. To embrace the fact that even if I don’t understand Him, I know Him. I confess I don’t really know what all this means; I don’t know what it will look like in the thick of daily living. But I expect I will learn. I must in all [my] ways acknowledge Him: lay my whole heart on the altar, even if it is one that is frightened and angry; accept that my mind cannot break Him down into smaller pieces to comprehend Him; trust that the path I’m on is a straight one even if I cannot see where it leads.

One day, I hope I will no longer protest His right to be God or the demand that I entrust Him wholly with all He’s given me. But for now my heart responds to these demands with irritation and reluctance, so much so that there are days I go so far as to wonder if any of it is worth it. I don’t want it to be this way. If I move forward, I want it to be with my heart and not in spite of it. And so I pummel His chest with clenched fists, knowing somehow that He still holds me close. Knowing He can handle my fighting. It hurts so much, I say. I feel like I am breaking.

I know, He says. I know.

For all my not knowing, at least I can hang on to this: that He asks no more of me than He gave Himself. That He loves me. That He understands. That He is good. And maybe that is enough.

happiest girl in the world

And why am I the happiest girl in the world?

Because I will be visiting the lovely Christianne in Florida! She and Kirk have graciously indulged me by allowing me to come for a 5-day visit at the end of January.

It's something I've dreamed on intermittently since we've reconnected through our blogs, but only this morning it became a reality. As thankful I am to have this quick and easy mode of communication, it will be nice to hug her, laugh with her, sip lattes, talk until our tongues and mouths are tired, and sit across from her at the same table over sushi, rice noodles, or empty plates. It won't really matter what else is there, because I will be with my friend.

I'm in utter wonder at how our hearts have connected over bloglines in the course of the last year, but most especially in recent months. She is a friend who speaks truth and love to my heart, who always has an encouraging word for me. I cannot begin to express how much her support has meant to me and how much her own story inspires me. And now I get to see her!!!

You should have heard me giggle and squeal when the last click was made and the ticket was purchased.

I am so insanely, ridiculously, and over-the-moon thrilled, my dear girl, to come and see you!! Let the countdown begin ...

frightful & beautiful

We received our first snow of the season yesterday. Pacific Northwest snow tends to stop everyone in their tracks; whoever drives does so at his own peril. Because it is wet and heavy, it always turns to a treacherous combination of compact snow and ice when cars pass over it. Add hills to the mix, and there is plenty of slipping and sliding for ill-prepared drivers.

I worked a few hours yesterday and made the decision to leave early when I could see conditions were worsening. No matter which of three possible routes I chose to make the mile and a half drive home, there would be a hill to climb at the end. Were I able to maintain momentum, it would have been fine. But when the cars in front of me stopped, I knew I wouldn't be going anywhere (and given the slick and icy conditions, I was particularly thankful for the fact that I wasn't going anywhere). I had chains in my trunk, but had always had one of the more adept masculine set nearby to do the dirty work. No such luck on this day.

The long and the short of it is this: I'm thankful that there are still people in the world who will pull to the side of the road and help a stranger put chains on her car. It took nearly an hour to get there, but I made it home safely.

And here I stay, enjoying the quiet magic of the snow.

Backyard photo taken by kirsten.michelle, 01 dec 2007
See more of my first snow photos here.