Perspective & Gratitude…

It’s amazing how an unexpected trip to the emergency room and stay in the hospital can provide a new perspective on things. After two intestinal surgeries to remediate the effects of his Crohn’s Disease, my husband is finally beginning to heal, and we are grateful.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that marriage worked–we truly are one. As my husband has bravely suffered countless procedures, pokings and proddings, two operations, the night of the drug-induced coma between them, the intense sleepless days in the ICU after, and the indignity of the ileostomy bag he’ll need for several more months, I have felt at least a small share of his pain in it all. Every time I have to leave him or be separated from him or watch them stick something else into him, I physically feel the pain of it and my heart breaks for him. Often it feels as though I’m leaving a part of myself behind. Despite the difficulty of all of this, we know that God is making us stronger and more united, increasing our love for one another day by day. Mikael is loved by all the nurses and providers here for his positive attitude and the way he thanks them for everything they do, even those that are painful or uncomfortable. I come to admire my Mikael more every day too.

Each one of those experiences that’s been hard or humbling or uncomfortable we’re doing our best to bless, knowing that when you bless something it loses its power to hurt you. So we bless the N/G tube in his nose that made him gag and prevented him from turning his head. I bless the nurses that see him naked and get irritated with my questions or requests (though overall, they’ve been wonderful!). We bless each thing as an instrument of God’s healing and growing work in our lives.

We’re learning to give thanks for each small miracle, and we’ve had a lot this week! We got to leave the ICU and get onto a regular ward floor, enabling Mikael to get some better rest. We’ve had good visits from family and friends and feel love and support from those who are far away. Mikael got his N/G tube out and can move his head freely! On other days he got his catheter out, an IV taken out of his left hand, and one out of his right hand. Yesterday, they took off his wound covering and the wound-vac pump that went with it. Then, the miracle of all miracles, I got the first hug I’d had in almost a week because he was free enough of tubes to make it possible!

Mikael’s making some physical strides of progress. He was able to walk all the way down the ward hallway and sit outside on the patio and I don’t think we’ve ever been so grateful to look out at the I-225 traffic on a cloudy day and feel the breeze :). Yesterday, Mikael got his first bite of real food in twelve days and began to weep it tasted so good. Today, he had his first shower in six days and it left him speechless. Both of us may sleep an hour or ninety minutes at a time here at night, but we’re just so thankful to get that much, and that we can be together, and that he’s okay.

We know that our Father is good and that we have never been out of His care. That’s definitely been proven to us by having so many beautiful loved ones in our lives! As well as we may know them, we’re learning again the words of Paul by heart, “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing. In everything, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus” (I Thessalonians 5:16-18). My favorite author Wendell Berry said it well too, “What we must do is this: ‘Love always, pray continually, in everything give thanks.’ I’m not all the way capable of it, but I know those are the right instructions.” These events that have interrupted the normal events of our life also serve as an invitation to draw even more near to God’s heart–gratitude is one of our paths and we have chosen to take it.

“Home is Wherever I’m With You…”

In John 15:9, Jesus tells us “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now abide in my love.”  We not only have a God who has adopted & treated us as His children and heirs, & sent His son to die that we might live as such, He also provides for us a home.  Jesus tells us to remain in that love..to abide in it…to make our dwelling place in the home of His heart.  Wherever we go, whatever our circumstances, however far we may roam…we always have a place “where we can enter and be at rest, even when all around…is a sea of trouble” (31 Days of Praise, Ruth Meyers). This home is none other than the heart of the love that surpasses all understanding, a love that relentlessly pursues us.  

 

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros sing a very popular trendy song entitled Home Is Wherever I’m With You. To me, the lyrics have always shouted of God…the only One who can truly be our lasting place of refuge:

 

“Ah, home, let me go home

Home is wherever I’m with you.

Holy moly, me oh my

You’re the apple of my eye…

I’ve never loved one like you….

You’re my best friend

I scream it to the nothingness

There ain’t nothing that I need

Ah, home, let me go home

Home is wherever I’m with you.”

 

He also provides for our companionship; we are never left alone. Our Omnipresent God has promised: “Never will I leave you, & never will forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6, emphasis mine). In Romans 13:14, the Apostle Paul commands us to, “Clothe [ourselves] with the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Within the heights & depths of our human experience, we may feel unseen at times regardless of who we share our lives with tangibly. He sees. He surrounds us with His Presence, unfailingly goes behind & before us. He hems us in (Psalm 139:6), lives with us, loves us, sees us, understands us. He is THE ultimate Witness to each of our journeys. As the Psalmist proclaims:

 

“You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord. You hem me in-behind and before….Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there. If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far ends of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.  If I say, surely the darkness will hide me, & the light becomes night around me. Even darkness will not hide me, the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. For you created me in my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” (Psalm 139:3-5a,7-13).

 

Let us accept Jesus’ invitation to share our respective & collective journeys with Him. “Remain in Me, & I will remain in you” (John 15:3). In celebration of this gift, we can rejoice with the cry of the disciple John: “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (I John 3:1, emphasis mine).

 

Un Examen…

As a Spanish speaker, I’m very familiar with the term “un examen,” meaning an exam or test. Until recently, however, I was not familiar with the term “examen” as it was first practiced by the Ignatius of Loyola in the Fourteenth Century. The examen was a series of six questions the Jesuit priests used for reflection at the end of each day:

 

  • Where did I experience the most consolation today?
  • Where did I experience desolation?
  • What was the most life-giving encounter today?
  • What was not life-giving?
  • For what was I most grateful today?
  • For what was I least grateful?

 

I am struck by how deeply each of these questions resonates, but also by what a profound practice and ritual this is. In my own culture and life and time, it seems that I am always on the move. Like many, my to-do list is a mile long and I struggle to let go of many of the items on it each day, always pushing. In the end, I push because I feel good about myself when I have accomplished a lot, but is that truly a place of consolation, or one of desolation? A quote I read recently from Do Hyun Choe Sugi Master reflects the balance we all must find well: “Movement is what creates life. Stillness is what creates love. To be still and still moving…that is everything.”

 

So in this new year, as with every year, this is one of the intentions, “…to be still and still moving.” To do so, I must find a daily balance between joyfully completing the tasks that I must do, being with the people I love, and resting. First and foremost must come time to “Be still and know that [He] is God.” Carving out time for the type of reflection suggested by the examen would be a lovely conclusion. Max Lucado reminds us, “Next time a sunrise leaves you breathless or a sunset leaves you speechless, STOP…REMAIN THAT WAY. Say nothing as heaven whispers: ‘Do you like it? I did it just for you?’ “

Come to the Water: Dipping Our Toes-

Almost daily, I’m struck by how fiercely independent my nature is, and simultaneously, how desperately dependent I am. Having traveled internationally and lived as a single woman into my mid-thirties, I have a stubborn independent streak. Perhaps this is true of most North-Americans. We take pride in the things we can do for ourselves, in standing on our own two feet. At the same time, there aren’t many days where I’m not running to the feet of my Lord, eager for His companionship and strength, sure in the knowledge that I can’t make it without His help. Even at my best, when I feel successful and happy and connected, I’m often crying out for the fullness of His presence.

 

I’m not sure who it was that said if God’s love is an ocean, we spend our human lives walking along the seashore, dipping our toes in the waves that roll in. Sometimes we watch from a distance, at others we wade in ankle deep, and in our bravest moments, we go out for a short swim. Few of us learn to stay completely saturated and afloat. But the presence of the ocean is constant and undeniable, and there’s always, always more. In The Rhett Walker Band’s song “Come to the River,” they encourage us, “Come to the river; Oh and lay yourself down; Let your heart be found.”

 

Despite that stubborn independent streak of mine that keeps me dipping my toes when an ocean awaits, I know that my faithful God will bring the tide in each day and that He delights to come to my rescue. Psalm 93:2 says, “The seas have lifted up, O LORD, the seas have lifted up their voice….” His love will never fail. 

 

As I listened to a song by Lauren Daigle on her new album “Look Up Child,” it brought me to tears to think of how the King of the universe is so moved by my needs, He would move the world to “Rescue” me. She sings:

 
“You are not hidden
There’s never been a moment
You were forgotten
You are not hopeless
Though you have been broken
Your innocence stolen

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS
Your SOS

I will send out an army
To find You in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you

There is no distance
That cannot be covered
Over and over
You’re not defenseless
I’ll be your shelter
I’ll be your armor

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army
To find You in the middle of the darkest night
It’s true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching
To reach you in the middle of the hardest fight
It’s true, I will rescue you.”

 

Psalm 94: 9, 18-19 assures us, “Does He who implanted the ear not hear? Does He who formed the eye not see?… When I said, ‘My foot is slipping, your love, O LORD, supported me. When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.” For each one of us in need of rescue today, for the helpless who don’t have a voice…we are seen, we are heard, we are known. He will rescue us.

The Magic of Ordinary Days…

At last, my husband and I have entered a season of normalcy, a time of settling…at last. For him, it involves the beginning of a new job and the ascent of a high learning curve. For me, it is a return to the familiar, finding once more the cadence of a place my heart knows and loves. The rituals of living consume a good portion of the day, but as I clean, work or study, prepare meals, exercise or walk the dogs, I find in each ordinary task an extraordinary richness. After being away from all this for several months, my eyes are opened to the magic and gift of this life. The consistent, quiet routine nourishes my soul.

 

In her blog entitled, “When You Need a Survival Guide for the Soul,” author Ann Voskamp writes, “Habits are the way we wear our days…. Habits are the small gears that leverage your life–and if you change your rhythms, you can change anything into a possibility. You change your life when you change how you meet Christ every day. Our rhythms become our everyday liturgy, the cadence of the hours that reorient our tired souls.”

 

After almost four decades, I am learning little habits that help me to enjoy life a bit more. I try to do one thing at a time. I take a deep breath and look around when I eat a meal. I drink a cold glass of ice water and listen to music as I cook. I stop what I’m doing to be fully present when someone walks in the room. I read more and watch television less. I smile when I walk. Late in her life, Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote, “I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.”

 
Ann Voskamp continues, “Musicians play one right note after the next right note after the next right note. It’s not an erratic splattering of sound or a fickle, helter-skelter banging of random notes. Music has order. It is composed. The notes played are intentional, considered, and deliberate. Lives that have rhythm sing. They don’t survive — they thrive…. Consistently keep the same soul rhythms every day, and you grow deeper into Him, the One who will reweave your soul into glory.” As we play each simple note, one after another, may the melody bring peace to others, and to our own souls…may it inspire us to thrive in each ordinary day.  

A Spacious Place…

Just now I’m listening to the song of wind chimes blowing in a gentle summer breeze outside my window. Curtains rustle as the light filters in. The dogs sleep in a mix of sun and shade under a tree where apples ripen in preparation for the autumn harvest. I sit at the table with the extraordinary gift before me of a peaceful, quiet time in which to read and reflect and write. As friends begin teaching children for a new school year, a blessing we once shared, I have a whiff of nostalgia, but breath a deep sigh of relief, for I know it had become too much for my fragile body.

 

A man walks his clomping horse up the dirt road where we live in this one-of-a-kind small mountain town. Though late August, the tundra on the hills has begun to change and the evenings are cooler. I settle into the weekday morning quiet of this world and feel deep gratitude for the season of rest I’ve been granted in this beautiful and spacious place. Studies completed, new paths opened and explored, more adventures and learning await and good work will need to be done. But for now, this day, I rest and give thanks.

 

Many times this was among the things only hoped for and imagined. That being said, it is important that I remember: my Father God and loving friends generously sacrificed and gave to share this with me. Both have been oh so sweet and faithful. As Psalm 18:16-19 proclaims, “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me.”
As author Ann Voskamp states, the act of remembering re-members us, helping rejoin the broken pieces. A dear friend reminded me today: there have been miracles…. there will be miracles. It’s good to remember. The chimes sound as the winds stir a song of praise.  

Strong Hands, New Eyes…

Oscar Wilde once said, “It takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.” This truth often strikes me, for, on a daily basis, I am amazed by the beauty and kindness and inspirational perseverance around me. On an equally frequent level, I am confronted with woundedness, ugliness, and hypocrisy. To hold the tension of this world’s  “tainted glory” well takes great balance and skill. Whatever and whoever there may be in my own path, I am quick to judge, to praise or condemn, to choose a personal response that has the potential to fall on either end of the spectrum.

 

Whether in line at the post office or the supermarket, driving, walking in the beautiful mountain town where I live, or working, I cross paths with many I choose to ignore. How many do I encounter every day who are longing to be seen or heard or helped in some way? Most often, I choose to believe that my schedule is too busy, my hands are too small and weak. I allow my eyes to cloud over and my mind to wander back to its self-preoccupation.

 

But what if my small hands are strong enough to offer a drink to the thirsty? What if doing so is the water my own soul needs? As David Foster Wallace says in his graduation speech entitled “This Is Water,” “Sometimes the hardest and most important realities are often the hardest to talk about.” In the petty frustrations of day-to-day living with narrow-sighted vision, it is only in choosing to look around with compassion that we find our own paths enlarged.

 

Just as  Jesus did, we are called, “…to preach good news to the poor…to bind up the brokenhearted…to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:1b-3a). God says that “…if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10).

 

Spanish-speaking artists Marcela Gándara and Jesus Adrian Romero have a beautiful song entitled “Dame Tus Ojos” (“Give Me Your Eyes”). In the song, they ask God, “Give me your eyes I want to see. Give me your words, I want to speak.” The song is a petition to be filled with the Spirit of God in every step. As we become Christ’s body and His church, may we literally be His hands and feet, see with His eyes, love with His heart.

***Photo Credits: Brainy Quote

Cracks…

There really isn’t a time in my life when I don’t remember actively walking with the Lord, so one would think that as I begin my thirty-seventh year, I would pretty much have this walk down. Wrong. There are so many days when I feel distant from my Father, so many times when I clearly see my sin and flaws realized in bad behavior. This worn vessel cracks and leaks in ways that make it appear less than ideal for useful service. I hurt those I love most and fall short of God’s glory and my own ambitions every day. At times I am the judgemental older brother, at others, I know myself to be as the wandering and rebellious prodigal son.

 

As RZIM A Slice of Infinity author Jill Carattini pointed out, there’s an easily glanced over phrase in the prodigal son story, “…the prodigal ‘came to himself’ and, at this, he decides to turn back to the father…. The son is one who wakes to health and life again, having been unconscious of his true condition. Standing in a foreign field hungry and alone, the son comes to something more than a good decision. He is waking to an identity he knew in part but never fully realized. He is remembering life in his father’s house again, though for the first time.”

 

How easy it is to lose sight of our identity when we wander away from our Father’s house. How easy it is to forget who God says I am. Lauren Daigle’s recent song, “You Say” beautifully affirms that He sees me cleansed, perfected, and redeemed. He provides acceptance and belonging. No matter what condition I’m in, I can always turn back to the open and waiting arms of my loving Father God.

 

This vessel may be cracked, but may it come to itself, may it come home, and may it be of use. As the apostle Paul said in II Corinthians 5:7-9, “7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

 

Canadian poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen also summed it up well in his song “Anthem,”:
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”

“The Room of Love…”

As a new bride, I’ve thought a lot about the ways earthly love mirrors the love of our Heavenly Father. Without a doubt, marriage provides experience with the complicated mysteries and pressures of relationships, especially under high amounts of outside conflict and stress. It also allows us a window into the transcendent nature of love. Recently, I’ve reread a favorite novel that does a nice job of tackling both themes.

With an expert hand, Wendell Berry weaves the characteristics of a romance into his women’s fiction novel Hannah Coulter. Hannah remembers the pressures she and her husband Nathan were under within their marriage as they worked their farm, “The making of the place was the thing that ruled over everything else, for we were living from the place…. And as our work shaped our workplaces, our work and our workplaces shaped our days. Our work brought us together and drew us apart.” She articulates the tensions that came between them, “We had differences. There were the agreed-on differences of work. There were the accepted, mostly happy differences between a man and a woman. There were the differences of nature and character that were sometimes happy and sometimes not. Some of the things that most endeared Nathan to me—his quietness, his love of his work, his determination—were the things that could sometimes make me maddest at him.”

Most of all, however, Hannah focuses on the love that united them, “The room of love is another world. You go there wearing no watch, watching no clock. It is the world without end, so small that two people can hold it in their arms, and yet it is bigger than world on worlds, for it contains the longing of all things to be together, and to be at rest together. You come together to the day’s end, weary and sore, troubled and afraid. You take it all into your arms, it goes away, and there you are where giving and taking are the same, and you live a little while entirely in a gift. The worlds have all been said, all permissions given, and you are free in the place that is the two of you together. What could be more heavenly than to have desire and satisfaction in the same room? If you want to know why even in telling of trouble and sorrow I am giving thanks, this is why.”

I’m giving thanks too, for the room of love and the big mix that life and love are. I pray I can accept giving and taking as the same, embrace all in my arms and accept them for the gifts that they are.

***All quotes taken from: Berry, Wendell. Hannah Coulter: A Novel. Counterpoint, 2004.***

Whether “Down in the Valley” or Standing  “Upon the Mountain of God”…

I’m in a really beautiful, beautiful season of my life right now. I have the opportunity to rest a little and chase a few dreams. I’ve fallen in love with the best man I’ve ever known, and even though there have been a few challenges for a Colorado girl pursuing a long-distance relationship with a Puerto-Rican (mostly three classes 4-5 hurricanes!), overall, I’m filled with gratitude every day for the sweetness of it all. As someone said long ago, it really is the greatest thing we’ll ever learn, just to love, and to be loved in return. This learning process is one that has given me the gift of getting to see the top of the tapestry the Lord is weaving in my life, when the previous thirty-five years have felt mostly like the underside view. In essence, my present in this present time is to stand upon the mountain of God with the one I love, looking back on the valleys we have separately crossed, as well as the deserts and hills we have independently wandered and climbed. We both look back on the last ten years of our lives, seasons that felt mysteriously dark and lonely to us both, and can now see so many ways God used them to prepare us for one another and the ministries to which we feel He is calling us. Our God is truly such a master architect and designer!

 

But, at the same time that my beloved and I are standing on top of the mountain of God, many others in my life are really hurting down in the valley. Good friends face the devastating betrayal and heartbreak of broken relationships. Another continues to desperately miss the husband she lost to illness. One is watching her uncle lose his battle against cancer, and her aunt face the prospect of losing a second husband to a terminal disease. I watch others suffer chronic pain or prolonged economic or relational difficulties. The people of Puerto Rico and México continue to suffer in the wake of shortages and hardships resulting from natural disasters. Many of the residents of Las Vegas grieve loved ones who tragically lost their lives to a mass shooting. As we all know, this world has no shortage of heartaches or joys. It is full of darkness, and it is full of light. And yet, even in the valley, we can hear the winds of promise blow, as a very old American folk song: “Down In the Valley” by Burl Ives says…

 

“Down in the valley, valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow” (Lead Belly).

 

Whether this reaches you down in the valley today, standing upon the mountain of God,  or somewhere in between, may you hear in the wind the whisper of our Savior saying your name, and speaking of His unchanging and unfailing and unfathomably great love for you. May His voice fill your heart to overflowing; may He bring you peace. It’s funny, because all of this has been on my heart to write for so long, the title has been typed and awaiting me on my computer, and then this morning, I heard a song on the radio that was new to me, that perfectly expresses it all. I hope “Hills & Valleys”, by Tauren Wells, ministers to you, as it did to me. Wherever you are, may you know, without a doubt, you’re “safe inside [His] hand”.

 
“I’ve walked among the shadows
You wiped my tears away
And I’ve felt the pain of heartbreak
And I’ve seen the brighter days
And I’ve prayed prayers to heaven from my lowest place
And I have held the blessings
God, you give and take away
No matter what I have, Your grace is enough
No matter where I am, I’m standing in Your love
On the mountains, I will bow my life
To the one who set me there
In the valley, I will lift my eyes to the one who sees me there
When I’m standing on the mountain aft, didn’t get there on my own
When I’m walking through the valley end, no I am not alone!
You’re God of the hills and valleys!
Hills and Valleys!
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone!
I’ve watched my dreams get broken
In you I hope again!
No matter what I know
Know I’m safe inside Your hand.”

 

***Photo Credits: Lovedoes.org