Monthly Archives: October 2004

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Welcome To My Mind… It’s a Scary Place (aka Happy Halloween)

My head hurts.

There are so many thoughts swarming around in my brain, I can’t decide which one to give attention to first.

Do I focus on the dilemmas I have with my new temp job… as I contemplate the possibilities of it becoming a long-term gig? Do I want to stay? There are things I’ve noticed, patterns emerging, echoes of sounds I’ve heard before. It’s one thing to deal with those things in a non-Christian environment, where I can excuse the problems with the reality that the people I work with don’t know Jesus, so I can’t hold them to the same standard I hold myself to… but this is a place where everyone "supposedly"  is a Christian… what do I do with that??? What do I do with actions I see, attitudes and behaviors that to me stink of worldly wisdom and desire. Do I stay and try to make a difference, or do I walk while I still can?

Back to the thought-swarm.

OR– Do I focus on what we talked about tonight in our Gathering… spirituality, inspiration and creativity…? What is spirituality? Can it really be defined as we defined it tonight: "the honest, earnest search for God/Truth." Where does inspiration come from? What is it, really, and why does it seem so fleeting? Is creativity only that which can be defined as "art"? I don’t believe so, but I also don’t know how to readily identify what it can be defined as. Well, that’s not entirely true… this weekend, an idea, almost an epiphany, shoved itself to the front of the thought-swarm… Martin Luther’s nailing of his 95 theses to the door of the Whittenberg Church was an exceptionally creative act of rebellion, which led to another creative act… a reformation of the Church. It came about because of Luther’s honest, earnest search for God/Truth. So I guess, in some respects I can identify creativity outside the realm of art… but it seems so rare, and fleeting. How can I become more adept at it?

Back again into the thought-swarm.

OR– Do I focus on the creative ideas currently banging on the walls of my brain, begging to be let out…? Poems that are like wraiths swirling just beyond my grasp. The minute I reach forward to grab hold, they turn into so much mist and vanish… The frustration of this dance causes me to leave them alone entirely, which just seems to make them scream louder to be paid attention to…. I long to be a writer, but find myself often frustrated, not in the process, but by the lack of my own ability to produce a finished work. Everything I have, it seems, it half-finished… I lost inspiration and just left the thing where it stood.

OR– Do I focus on verse God led me to this morning, Isaiah 43:1. God, in His infinite grace, unfailing love and unfathomable ability to cut through all the crap and straight to the core of my struggles spoke pages to me through that one verse. Do I delve deeper into the passage? Do I meditate more on it, and on what I heard Him say to me as I meditated on it this morning?

OR– Do I focus on some things that have come up in my counseling recently…? Things like giving myself grace, allowing myself to grieve publicly, realizing just how much I have to grieve over, dealing with all the feelings accompanying and stirred up by all those losses…

All these thoughts demand attention. All of them want to come out at once. All of them want to talk all at once. For months my brain shut down, went on strike, refused to say a word. Now I can’t seem to shut it up. There’s so much noise inside my head I can hardly hear the sounds outside it.

Is it any wonder why my head hurts.

But now, this is what the LORD says- he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine." — Isa 43:1

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Happy Anniversary Mom & Dad

Today would have been your 62nd wedding anniversary.

Wow.
Who knew that love could last that long. From the beginnings of high school….

….through to your old age… through illnesses, wars, arguments, children’s rebellions, their marriages, struggles, lost teeth, lost battles, lost loves… Your love survived.

Your love survived sickness, disappointment, unemployment, uncertainty, your own self-doubts, fears, longings, unmet expectations, the death of dreams, the death of children through miscarriage, battle wounds, heart wounds from words spoken in anger or pain, long distances and separations…

Even as the days of your life grew short, and illness overtook you both, neither of you wavered in your love for each other. Mom, you watched over dad and took extraordinary care of him, until dementia stole your mind. Dad, you loved mom from your whole heart, provided for her, and never once considered abandoning her for another, even when she no longer seemed the woman you knew in your youth.

Your love provided inspiration for the children you have left behind. We saw your love and devotion to each other and learned that marriage really can work, an important, invaluable lesson in this world where nothing lasts, especially relationships.

You weren’t perfect. You made mistakes. Your relationship was full of problems and struggles, miscommunications and hurts. No one is perfect, so how can we expect our relationships to be either? But you did your best. You forgave each other, and over everything, you poured out your love.

Your nearly 61 years of marriage brought much good into the world. Four wonderful individuals: God-designed and God-ordained people, who have, in their many years of life, continued to touch others’ lives because of your influence. The love and devotion you had for each other was transferred to us. The adoration and commitment you had to Jesus was passed down to your children.

Besides us, there are countless people who have been touched by your lives, your love, your ministry, your laughter… from soldiers you fought alongside, dad, in World War II and yes, even Vietnam (I am convinced you had much more impact there than you ever knew, until you stepped foot into heaven)…. to the women you reached out to, mom, even the momentary touches you gave to someone you didn’t even know. And you both certainly impacted the doctors and nurses who took care of you in the hospital last year.

And you had a powerful impact on me.

Being your daughter was the single best gift God ever gave to me besides His redemption through His own blood. I do the best I can to live out what I saw modeled by you both. To become a woman you can be proud of. I hope when we are reunited in heaven, you will be able to say that I lived a life worthy of your legacy; one that you weep with joy over.


I don’t know if you have anniversary celebrations in heaven. But I celebrate your anniversary today, even though… well, even though death has now parted you, not from each other, but from us. I celebrate your lives together, the relationship that began over 66 years ago, and now continues in heaven. And I celebrate the gift of your love, that you gave so freely to everyone in your lives.

I love you.
Your Proud Daughter.

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Oh, The Places I’ve Been!


create your own visited states map

Here’s a tidbit of my life… the following are all the state I’ve lived in:
Kansas
Washington
Texas
Wyoming
California (Northern and Southern — there is a difference between the two!)
Tennessee

And the states that I’ve "lived in" for 4-6 weeks:
Colorado
Virginia
South Carolina

Looking at the US map and seeing how much of it was covered in red, indicating just how much our beautiful country I’ve seen, I started feelin’ perty dang proud of myself.

So I got cocky and thought I’d fill out the map seen below…"Heck!" I thought. "Everybody always says I’m such a ‘world traveler’. This will prove them right….

After all, I’ve even lived overseas….
4 months in India
1 year in Cyprus

So, my world map will surely be quite red too….

uh…..

create your own visited countries map

Yikes! I’ve only seen 4% of this amazing planet we live on. I have got to get busy!!!

…. Sheesh… I know Wendy’s gonna do this… and her world map is gonna be all colored up. Man, that’s gonna make me jealous.

PS — I thought about including Egypt, Jordan, Yemen and the Netherlands on my "countries visited" list… but I was only in the airports in those countries, so I don’t really think that counts…

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Truth & Love

Not much time to post this week. It’s the week before the presidential elections (for those of you living in a cave…) and the organization I’m temping for is very actively involved in the process —- and I work in the Public Relations department –read, dealing with the press — which means things are cranked up a bunch of notches. šŸ™‚ It’s fun. I’m likin’ it — a lot! — but it’s also very crazy-busy.

But I have to tell you what happened tonight.

In my friend Wendy’s blog, we’ve been having a great discussion on what it really means to "speak the truth in love" (Eph 4:15 — "Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ."). It’s a really interesting conversation. I encourage you to check it out… but a quick warning too. If you think my posts are long, watch out for Wendy! She’s a woman after my own heart… and fingers… šŸ™‚

I won’t go into the whole discussion except to say that I’ve had people in my life use that verse as an excuse to "confront" me "in love" about things they perceived as "sin" in my life. Sadly, I myself have been guilty of using that verse for the same purposes.

As I’ve walked through the last year… and especially the last few months, one thing that God keeps driving home to me is to be honest with others about who I am, where I’m at and what’s going on inside me. And as I read through various passages on speaking truthfully, God drove that point home time and again. Live truthfully. Be honest with others about myself. If something bugs me or frustrates me, just be honest, without trying to find some Biblical principle that is being violated as a means of justifying my point of view. Why can’t I just say, that just bugs me, please don’t do that around me.  …???? Why do I feel such a need to play Holier-Than-Thou??

Then Sunday night arrived. John changed things up and surprised us with an "adventure" that was meant to make us uncomfortable — and hopefully shove most of us out of our comfort zones.

It worked. I was frustrated, to the point of anger and nearly in tears. I wanted to just go hang out at the park, eat food and listen, like we’d been doing for a couple of months now. Instead, I found myself in a car with Lindsey, on my way to Borders to "meet at least one, and as many as three, people". To what end, I wondered? For what purpose?? It’s one thing to plan an evangelistic event, another to plan a cultural learning event… but this felt like neither… and I was lost. Without a task, I just don’t quite know what to do with myself. A task gives me a purpose for doing… whatever it is I’m doing. I didn’t completely know that about myself until Sunday.

And besides, I talk to people all the time. Every place I go, I end up in conversations… I can’t decide if it’s my mom’s influence on me, or dad’s for that matter, my cultural learning training from my numerous times overseas that kicks in, or just God’s imprint on my life… but I just can’t help myself but chat with whomever is serving me at Starbucks, the checker at the store, the people around me as I shop… even people I pass on the street. So, what the heck?!?! Why was John forcing me to go out and do something I already do, and talking as if it’s something new. Ugh!

But God kept whispering to me that perhaps my attitude wasn’t as warranted as I thought… perhaps He wanted to do something… perhaps Lindsey needed this exercise… perhaps… perhaps…

I couldn’t help myself… the first person we decided to engage, I was into it and getting to know him before I even realized what I was doing. The next person I thought I’d hang back, see if Lindsey engaged… She tried, but floundered. I jumped in and off we went into really interesting stuff about Sharon… cool woman. I could relate to her and honestly, I think I fell a little in love with her (a little in love… is there such a thing as a little in love????). Third person same song. I saw patterns and themes emerging. My heart expanded, and filled with both the excitement and pain of new love.

Dang it! This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to have a lousy time so I could feel justified in my frustration. It just added to my overall frustration over the evening.

We met back at Fido for dinner and some talk. Events conspired against us. The normally dead-on-Sunday-evening Fido was bustling with activity. It was hard to hear. The food was too expensive and I had no cash. A headache developed from not eating. My frustration returned.

And didn’t abate throughout the week. I prayed. But every prayer turned into another rant. I wanted to talk to John. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got… I don’t even know fully why…. I felt left out. I felt unknown. I felt misunderstood. I felt under-utilized — no, I felt not utilized at all. Feeling cascaded over feeling, dropping down in a crazy waterfall of emotions. What the heck was going on??? Can I just chalk it up to PMS and be done with it??? Nope.  That didn’t work either. I built argument upon argument in my mind of what "Biblical principles" were not being followed and how my needs weren’t being met because of it… and I was gonna "speak the truth in love", doggonit.

Then tonight arrived. The appointed time (every other Wednesday evening) for our "Convivium" (I have no idea if I’m spelling that right), our team meeting, And I had a spiritual epiphany. I discovered what speaking truthfully and speaking that truth in love really looks like. And how much it can accomplish. And how amazingly liberating it is.

First, let me say I’d circled the neighborhood for a half hour because I was early and I just wasn’t ready to go in… something was burdening my heart and I needed time to get to the root of its cause. I realized the cause was that I missed God. My spirit was ravenously hungry for Him. This discovery was quite on accident. I’d popped in a cd Ron and Leticia recorded for me and the songs took me straight to God’s throne, like the aroma of fresh hot popcorn compels you to find the source. I sat in a nearby parking lot, listening, singing, just being alone with God. Finally, He nudged me to go… I was late now.

Perhaps that time helped me release some frustration… Perhaps what I really needed was to connect with the heart of God, instead of running from it… perhaps it was the fact that during our team meeting we just spent time really getting real and opening up to each other, for the first time, really. I don’t know… But whatever it was, I felt free enough to bring up my frustration over Sunday’s adventure in a way I’d not even considered doing, and hadn’t done in a long time. Instead of pulling out my Bible and using it as a weapon, I was just honest about my experience and my personal frustration.

It opened up doors to a full-on conversation where I learned a lot, gained a different perspective, understood the situation better and came to trust John and his leadership more, and respect him more deeply as well.

I’m still in awe over the whole experience. I wish I could say I had something to do with all this. But I know I didn’t. I had no intention of approaching the subject that way — if I approached it all. God did it. He did it all. All I did was take an opportunity that presented itself, took a deep breath and opened my mouth. God did the rest. The words, the attitude, the tone of voice… the honesty… none of it was what I’d planned or rehearsed in my head.

There are times in my life where I feel like I just received a kiss on the cheek from God. Tonight is one of those moments.

What this adds up to, then, is this: no more lies, no more pretense. Tell your neighbor the truth. In Christ’s body we’re all connected to each other, after all. When you lie to others, you end up lying to yourself.
    Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry–but don’t use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don’t stay angry. Don’t give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life….
       Watch the way you talk. Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth. Say only what helps, each word a gift. — Ephesians 4:25-26, 29 (The Message)

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Some Pictures of My Home

It’s a rainy day, and what a better way to spend it than hangin’ out at home, listening to Mindy Smith, the Indigo Girls and Beethoven, reading, relaxing… and taking pictures with my handy-dandy Cybershot šŸ™‚ I thought ya’ll might enjoy seeing a few pictures of our beautiful home (okay, apartment… but it’s home to me!).

Welcome To Our Home!

The Living room/Dining room areas – all lit up

The Kitchen – Adria’s favorite place! šŸ™‚ She cooks up some really good stuff… come over and we’ll feed you sometime.

View from the dining room…

Another View from the dining room…

My room — It’s HUGE!


View from my bedroom window

View from our porch – my favorite place to hang out right now!

 

Just one last thing to show you.
Grandma’s Bible has a prominent place, along with the praying hands mom made years ago, and a picture of mom and dad. I see it every day and it’s a powerful reminder of the incredible legacy my family has been given.

Well, I hope you enjoyed this little tour… Please excuse the mess, we’re still getting settled in. Feel free to drop by any time. šŸ™‚ We loooove visiters!

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Love’s Recovery

during the time of which I speak
it was hard to turn the other cheek
to the blows of insecurity.
feeding the cancer of my intellect
the blood of love, soon neglected,
lay dying in the strength of its impurity.

Have you ever had a time in your life where you felt beat down by another’s insecurities? Felt captive to  a cancer that slowly ate away at your sense of self, sense of value and desireable-ness? You watch helplessly as the love in your heart just shrivels up and dies. Your love for yourself, your love for others, perhaps even your love for God. Life seems to unravel at it’s seams… you unravel along with it. Slowly, like rush hour traffic on the 405, your life devolves into a brutal fight for survival. Survival of your own soul. And it doesn’t matter who gets hurt in your attempt to live.

meanwhile the friends we thought were so together
they’ve all gone and left each other
in search of fairer weather

we sit here in our storm and
drink a toast to the slim chance of
love’s recovery

A year of my life was spent in that kind of hell. Life started out like a dream… a budding romance, with flowers, amazing dates and all the excitement and newness of getting to know a new lover. Then the blows began…  I ignored the first few, thinking surely my new lover didn’t mean to hurt me. It was a mistake, an aberration… But the blows didn’t quit. My new lover was insecure.

They were all insecure. I don’t know who started it, or how it all began. And frankly, I don’t care anymore. I just know I walked into what I thought was going to be a great new adventure, and instead found myself in the middle of a mess. A battlefield where neither side trusted me and no one was secure enough in their own selves to know whether they really wanted me on their "side."

It got harder and harder to turn the other cheek to the blows of another’s insecurity… not to mention the blows of my own insecurity that followed each of their blows. I had no where to go. No sanctuary from the arrows that flew. I tried to embrace the reality. Tried to keep my head in the midst of the insanity of battle. But I slid on the all the blood… and fell.

I found myself nearly drowning in a sea of red. Their blood, my blood — it all mixed together. It’s amazing how on a battlefield, you can’t tell the difference between the blood of your "side" and the blood of the "others".

there I am in younger days, stargazing
painting picture-perfect maps
of how my life and love would be.
not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection,
my compass, faith in love’s perfection,
I missed a million miles of road I should’ve seen.

A black cancer grew deep within my soul. A cancer that fed on confusion, frustration, insecurity and unmet expectation. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! This wasn’t the way I’d imagined giving my life away for Jesus would look. I didn’t understand why God would allow me to walk blindly into this mess. I cried out to Him.

He answered and met me. Deep intimacy followed. His roots dug deep into my soul, into places I never knew existed, into places I never knew He could reach. His roots took hold — somehow finding rich soil, how I don’t know… or perhaps He created the rich soil as He went… His roots took hold and have never let go. Never. Not even when I hacked at them in my panicked attempts to survive.

Yet the cancer grew. Months passed. Then suddenly confusion and frustration gave way to anger. Embers fanned. Flames burst forth. Clarity… I was a fool. A stargazing fool.

But I’m not an idiot. I  know  who I am. I know what I am and what I’m capable of. And I know who you say I am is not who I am. You don’t know crap. Stay away from me.

Life moved on. Like a dream — or perhaps, more accurately, a nightmare — it suddenly shifted focus and location. New battles raged and more wounds felled my soul. God had lifted me out of the sea of red… only to set me down in a valley where I created my own lake of blood and tears. And still, the cancer raged in my soul. In places I wouldn’t allow God to touch. Like a child who won’t allow her mom to put healing balms on a painful wound, I wouldn’t let God touch my cancer-infected places. It just hurt too much. Like a perfect Lover, He waited. He stayed with me. And waited.

Did He know this time would come? Did He know I would finally be strong enough to say, Cut the cancer out. Do whatever you must do to heal my soul. I believe. I believe You can. I believe You want to. I finally understand my redemption and restoration isn’t just about "someday, when we all get to heaven". I finally get that Your salvation is for here and now. I finally see that You want me to live in perfect Shalom with You now. Bring it on, Jesus. Please. Bring it on.

oh how I wish I were a trinity
so if I lost a part of me
I still have two of the same to live.
but nobody gets a lifetime rehearsal
as specks of dust were universal

so let this love survive
and be the greatest gift
that we could give.

tell all the friends who think they’re so together
that these are ghosts and mirages,
all these thoughts of fairer weather

though its stormy now
I feel safe within the arms of
love’s discovery

Sitting on my porch, looking at the brilliant colors of dying leaves, signaling a change in seasons, I sense a changing of the seasons of my soul as well. While I look out at signs that winter is coming — a blanket of cold, perhaps even ice, where all living things go to ground and the world as a result looks dead — I feel a stirring in my own soul, an awakening. Glowing embers being fanned into flame by the Wind, annoucning the arrival of spring.

I am out of sync with nature. But I feel so very in-sync with my God. Finally, the ice is melting. The cold of my soul winter is giving way to the warmth of my Beloved’s spring.

though its stormy now
I feel safe within the arms of
love’s discovery

"Love’s Recovery" written by the Indigo Girls, from their self-titled album

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Saved!

Adria and I watched the movie "Saved!" tonight. Wow. And whoa. I think I need to watch it again….

I highly recommend this movie. It was hysterical! And, unfortunately, so very true. There were many times I didn’t know whether to laugh, because honestly it was truly very funny… or whether to give into my embarrassment and hide my face in shame, because I’ve been that person, done that stuff, said those things, acted that way….

What a reality-check this movie was for me. The scenes where they are worshipping, I felt so uncomfortable… like I was either watching something I shouldn’t be a witness to (like two people making out), or like I was witnessing something that everyone knew was fake, but no one wanted to admit. I wonder if that’s how people who aren’t followers of Christ feel when they walk in on worship at churches?

It’s embarrassing to look back over my life and realize how many times I’ve acted like pretty much every character in the movie. I’ve been preachy, holier-than-thou-but-sincerely-intentioned Hilary Faye, and I’ve been rebellious Cassandra. I’ve been confused and earnest Mary, and misguided, troubled — dang, what was Mary’s boyfriend’s name?? — and push-around, passive aggressive Roland.

Amazingly enough, the most Christ-like character that I saw in the movie was the pastor/principal’s son — wish I could remember his character’s name as well… What he says to Mary, when her secret "sin" is finally, publicly, revealed is soooo Jesus: "Mary, I don’t care." How many times has Jesus said that to you when you’ve come to Him broken, ashamed and exposed? "I don’t care about that. It makes no difference to me. I love you. Period. Nothing can change that."

And Mary’s line at the end: "Why would God make us all so different, if He meant for us to all look the same?" Amen.

As usual, and as should be expected, they got some theology mixed up and backwards. But what I’m learning is that a little heresy is always to be expected. No one’s perfect, so no one’s gonna get all of God perfectly down. I think He knows that and is willing to work within the "margin of error". In my own life I’ve seen Him do WONDERS in that margin of error — which has often been a wide one.

Some of the classic lines I picked up from my first viewing:

"I hit Jesus with my van, EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY."

"This is NOT a weapon, you idiot!" Mary, indicating the Bible Hilary Fay just threw at her, hitting her square in the back

"This is the most Jesus-centric band…!!" Hilary Faye, referring to her favorite Christian band….
Side Note: I think I’m gonna start referring to things as "Christ-centric"… sarcastically of course, especially those "family friendly" Christian radio stations… but don’t get me started on THAT topic… (YIKES!)

"I just thought she was doing a lot of stress eating… I didn’t want her to get a complex." Mary’s mom

And I really liked the raw honesty of Mary, standing in front of the church steeple, swearing in frustration, fear, confusion and anger. Been there. Done that. Maybe that sounds and looks like heresy, but I’ve learned God appreciates it and honors it far more than when I try to be all holy and pious when all that’s in me is screaming to high heaven because my world is falling apart at the seams. I think this is a true example of God’s command to us to let our "yes" be "yes" and "no" be "no". Honesty. Integrity — who we are outside is who we are inside.

I really do want to watch it again. There’s so much in this movie… it’s subtle, but potent.

Again, I highly recommend it, especially for Christians. It’s good every once in a while to get a reality check on how the rest of the world sees us. I do have one warning: if you don’t want the truth, if you don’t want to feel uncomfortable or have your paradigms shaken, don’t watch. This is not the movie for you. This will not make Christians feel good about how we’ve communicated Jesus to the rest of our culture. Nor should it. We haven’t done a very good job.

Okay… end of sermon for the day… Time to listen to a little Mindy Smith, read a little Orson Scott Card and head off to bed.

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The Monster

The Monster. She rarely wakes, but when she does, she a thing to be feared. Truly feared. She is the Black Abyss of agony, grief, anger, of pain beyond belief and overwhelming emotions too deep and too powerful to withstand.

She woke up one morning. Easter morning. I nearly died that morning. I nearly was swallowed whole by her. My wailing, I’m sure, could be heard all over southern California, as wave upon wave of darkness and agonizing pain crashed over me. No words can express the place I went to that morning.

Naked, exposed, no place to hide, no weapon to fight with. I screamed to God, "If you are going to rescue me, as you promised, Now is the time! NOW. I need you NOW. I cannot wait another second. Please, God! If you are going to rescue me, NOW is the time!"

Eventually the Monster spent herself. Or perhaps she was merely stretching her claws… and wasn’t yet ready to devour me. I don’t know. I just know she got quiet. The storm subsided and I was left still naked and exposed. And now raw. My throat was raw from screaming (I wasn’t speaking metaphorically when I said I cried out and screamed. Thank God my roommate was in Alabama with her parents, or she would’ve been frightened out of her mind by the sounds echoing through the house). My heart and soul were raw from the ravaging claws of the Beast. And mind my was raw from the whole violent experience.

That’s when I felt His presence. So powerful. So potent. If He’d been wearing cologne, I’d have smelled it. God was in the room. Not just in the room, but at my feet. At my feet! The Living God was kneeing at my feet, holding my hand, speaking soft words of comfort, enveloping me in a soft, warm blanket of deep love that I’d never known before. We walked through the rest of the day that way, like a dad holding close his blanket-bundled child who’d just been pulled from a frozen lake, or rescued from white-water rapids.

All day. And into the next, and even the next.

Then the Monster shifted in her sleep, and I was pulled back into the darkness. I moved like I do when I have a migraine that’s just gotten quiet. Careful. Slow. Deliberate. "Do nothing sudden, quick or jerky that could awaken the pain."

Do nothing to awaken the Monster.

That became my mantra. Do nothing to awaken the Monster. I nearly didn’t survive our first encounter. I know I’ll lose the next. I felt the power behind her claws. She was holding back. I just got a taste. That was like the fat lady clearing her throat. The next time I won’t get off so easy.

A couple of weeks ago my counselor, Barney, urged me to embrace the pain of my grief… which, by the way, he’s the third counselor (my one in LA, and my one in Charlotte, lest you think I’m just counselor-hopping) to tell me I’ve got so many "grief points" I could make it to Mars and back a couple of times. I decided he was insane, until I realized. He doesn’t know about her.

So I told him about the Monster, and how foolish I felt it would be to wake her… Embrace her??? Forget it. I’d rather go to the gynecologist.

But again he made his case: Embrace the pain. Face the Monster. Wake her. And let her have her way with you. You will be stronger. She will diminish.

I left his office emotionally raw and spent. But also relieved that finally someone else knew and understood the power of the Beast. And even knowing her power, he believes I’m strong enough to handle her. Silly man.

But God decided to weigh in on this argument as well. He began to whisper… "She didn’t just spend herself and go back to sleep…. I fought her, and drove her away from you…. I will protect you…. I will help you face her…."

But the thought of waking her scares the crap out of me. And I struggle every day between God’s beckoning voice, "face your fears and Live," and my overwhelming desire to run from everything hard and painful.

And all the while she sleeps. In her restless fits. And since I’m tethered to her, I feel her restlessness and my sleep is fitful too.

Why didn’t she finish me off when she woke last time? Did she just go back to sleep, or did God truly overpower her, in one of His David-the-shepherd moments, and send her back  to her cave?  In my more lucid moments, I sense the latter is really the truth, and the former is just a lie from the enemy. Yes, even Narnia has enemies living within its borders.

Will He come if I purposefully wake her? Will He stand beside me, hold me up? Will He fight for me…? And who will win?

I’m tired, so tired, of being tethered to her. Of her restless sleep dragging me back into the darkness when there’s so much light outside. I want to live in the light. In the brightness of Life. My LIfe. This new fulfilling, amazing dream-come-true Life I’ve been gifted.

If you think of me, pray.

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Hard Days, Dark Nights

It’s after 2am and I should be in bed….. why, I don’t know. I won’t be working tomorrow, so what’s the point in going to bed "tonight"?

Narnia may be beautiful and magical, but it’s still full of the same pain, fear, frustration and uncertainty the "real world" is. The job I thought was going to be my new focus, isn’t working out as I’d hoped. Oh, I still like the job — and they still like me I think. It’s just, well, their non-profit, church organization. They can’t afford to pay me. Forget paying me what I’m worth! They can’t even pay me what I need to earn to survive, even working 40 hours a week.

Today, my boss told me he can only afford to pay me around 30 hours a week, so I better plan on taking tomorrow off.

The problem for me is that this will leave me somewhere around $425/month in the hole. Taking a second job was an option I considered, then rejected. No part time job could pay me what I need… and frankly, taking that second job would take too much time away from the reason I came here in the first place, to plant a church.

So far, I’ve managed to make ends meet by living off my inheritance from mom and dad. I had such high hopes for that money. I wanted to invest it somewhere. Put it away and watch it grow, provide myself a nice little nest egg for my old age. But instead, I’m watching it quickly dwindle.

I know mom and dad would want me to use it this way, but, dang it! I don’t want to use it up this way.

God, I guess, has other ideas… What they are, I don’t know. He hasn’t chosen to share them with me.

How I wish mom and dad were here!! I miss them so very much. Their words of wisdom, their laughter… mom’s comfort, dad’s long hugs…. The both always knew how to make things "all better."  I don’t know how to live without them. Every day I wonder how in the world they lived for so long without their parents.

It’s not something you ever think of asking your mom and dad when their alive. It’s not even something you want to contemplate. I know. I never wanted to contemplate this life either. Even now, I try to find ways of not dealing with it. I watch waaaay to much tv, and eat waaaay too much. If there was another "waaaay too much" that I could figure out how to get away with as a Southern Baptist, believe me, I’d be knee deep in it already! Anything to escape the pain. Anything to not have to acknowledge the grief that consumes me.

I miss them so much my heart feels like it’s exploding and my soul feels inky black. It seems, many days, I still live in that darkness, and just visit the dream life I have here in Nashville. Even after experiencing days of unbelievable fulfillment by just life in general (something I never thought truly existed), I somehow find myself sucked back into the darkness, with the Monster sleeping nearby.  She is a Beast that demands to be fed and pacified, or she’ll turn and devour me. A beast of my own making, through months of running away and hiding from Pain. She is what keeps me from living in Narnia. She keeps pulling me back through the wardrobe doors, back into the past. Perhaps it’s her restless shifting that pulls me back, the same way something in the "real world" pulls us out of our dreams and back into the darkness of our night-filled rooms.

Between the Monster and my own rabid fears of financial ruin… did I mention I’m a drama queen? … poor Aslan is having a struggle getting an audience with me.

…Okay, I’ve finally run out of steam and am starting to fall asleep while typing… I didn’t know a person could do that. I’ve fallen asleep writing before, but typing…?

I will post a follow-up on this later.

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My Narnia

I sit in a windowless room, while the beauty of a rainy day rages on outside. Without me.

I see the refreshing glory of God every time I pass a window. Rain-slicked streets, misty clouds hovering nearby, shrouding all of downtown Nashville in a mysterious grey veil. It feels like London! Such mystery to explore, and adventures to be had!

Yet I sit in a windowless room…

There’s so much beauty in Tennessee! So much to see, to taste and smell, to breathe in… On my way to work this morning, fog-covered hills sang a beautiful song to Jesus draped in amazing colors, announcing Fall’s arrival.

This place is magical. Exploding with all the mystical elements my heart has called "Fall" since as early as I can remember. I’ve dreamed for years of living in a place like this; experiencing just one autumn filled with all the magic: colors, air crisp and clear, the aroma of fresh rain and dirt lingering in the air, mixing with the fragrances of wood burning in fireplaces somewhere nearby.

This is the magic where stories live. Stories that stir my soul, warm my heart and draw my mind toward home.

And now I’m living in one. A magical story. Where the Hero rescues the peasant from the Beast and brings her to His land, full of beauty and endless bounty. To the average person I’m sure Nashville just looks like another big city. Another dot on a map of the United States.

But to me it’s Narnia.