As I lay in bed trying to fall asleep last night, I decided to take Jesus on a tour of the school. I started at one end of the hall and imagined walking beside him, introducing him to teachers (including to ones who worked in the rooms in years past), and showing him the classrooms. I imagined him breathing light, love, and peace into every room, and I imagined him doing the same in the hallways.
We went everywhere in the school together last night, Jesus and I. It took us a little while as my thoughts took tangents and convinced us to stand somewhere and consider particular subjects or concerns, but we eventually made it through campus and I eventually fell asleep.
I think I’ll take this tour with Jesus again tonight. And tomorrow night. And maybe tomorrow during the day. And maybe the next day. Because even though I cannot speak his name aloud, I truly believe that without Jesus’ love, light, and peace, things just get messy.
Each year, I put a prayer on my desk so that I can see it each day. I’ve updated the prayer over time—added, deleted, modified according to year. And so tonight I do the same—I update last year’s prayer. And instead of praying only for me—for I—I am praying for we—for us—because we are in this together.
Almighty God, you have blessed us with the joy and care of children.
Give us calm strength and patient wisdom as we work with them, that we may teach them to see and love what is just, true, and good in this unsteady and confusing world.
Help us show them that doing right gives more life than doing wrong and that goodness and light have the power to overcome the dark.
Help us to help them take heartache and failure not as measures of their worth but as chances for fresh starts.
Grant each of us, God, students and teachers alike, in all of our doubts and uncertainties, the ability to rest and the courage to do what is best.
Give us insight.
Surround us with grace.
Empower us with the boldness and goodness to be firm, fair, and consistent.
Feed us as we feed our students, and help us to grow in content knowledge, pedagogy, and self-understanding as we seek to be life-long learners not just of curriculum and teaching but of life itself.
And most of all, God, fill us with love that is contagious…today, tomorrow, and in all the days to come.
Amen.
Now…to walk with Jesus around the school and into sleep.
And amen.
Showing posts with label rest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rest. Show all posts
Monday, August 29, 2016
Monday, March 28, 2016
No Paddle Day
I’ve never been canoeing--
Much less canoeing on a ten day river trip through two states.
But I have a friend who is doing just that--
With a group of teenage girls from the camp where she works.
They left on the Lumber River in NC last Wednesday and will be extracted at a beach in SC this Saturday.
By Friday, the group had arrived in SC and begun canoeing the Little Pee Dee River.
By Saturday night, the girls were ready to go to bed by 7pm.
Needless to say, they were exhausted.
Because of the exhaustion, but more so because of the theological significance of the day,
Yesterday was a no paddle day.
A day of staying put.
A day of discussing the power of life, death, and resurrection.
A day of exploring the beauty of creation.
A day of rest.
I don’t need to say that we live in a busy world.
Just waking up each day is to experience a fast-paced, motion- and noise-filled world.
I don’t need to say that there is always more to do.
Just making a to-do list on which you need to add a to-done category just to feel accomplished is to experience the never-ending list of tasks to do.
I don’t need to say that people are tired.
Just looking at the dark circles under eyes and the sleep aids the fill pharmacy aisles is to witness America’s need for sleep.
And yet…
I rarely hear of people taking a no paddle day.
A day of staying home.
A day of discussing the power of light, darkness, and redemption.
A day of taking in the beauty of creation.
A day of rest.
Being the orange-fish collector that I am, I have a Finding Nemo saying on my wall:
Just keep swimming.
And while I believe in this little phrase and know that ultimately,
no matter how weary we become from life’s demands,
especially the demands that we have absolutely no interest in but that we must do nonetheless,
We must keep going.
We must keep persevering until we make it to the other side.
This is what life requires.
Nemo knows this.
Yet, my friend and her girls know something, too,
Something that God Godself has known since the very beginning:
Sometimes we must take a day and designate it as a
No paddle day.
A day of being,
A day of discussing the power of joy, grief, and journey.
A day of meditating on the wisdom of creation.
A day of rest.
Much less canoeing on a ten day river trip through two states.
But I have a friend who is doing just that--
With a group of teenage girls from the camp where she works.
They left on the Lumber River in NC last Wednesday and will be extracted at a beach in SC this Saturday.
By Friday, the group had arrived in SC and begun canoeing the Little Pee Dee River.
By Saturday night, the girls were ready to go to bed by 7pm.
Needless to say, they were exhausted.
Because of the exhaustion, but more so because of the theological significance of the day,
Yesterday was a no paddle day.
A day of staying put.
A day of discussing the power of life, death, and resurrection.
A day of exploring the beauty of creation.
A day of rest.
I don’t need to say that we live in a busy world.
Just waking up each day is to experience a fast-paced, motion- and noise-filled world.
I don’t need to say that there is always more to do.
Just making a to-do list on which you need to add a to-done category just to feel accomplished is to experience the never-ending list of tasks to do.
I don’t need to say that people are tired.
Just looking at the dark circles under eyes and the sleep aids the fill pharmacy aisles is to witness America’s need for sleep.
And yet…
I rarely hear of people taking a no paddle day.
A day of staying home.
A day of discussing the power of light, darkness, and redemption.
A day of taking in the beauty of creation.
A day of rest.
Being the orange-fish collector that I am, I have a Finding Nemo saying on my wall:
Just keep swimming.
And while I believe in this little phrase and know that ultimately,
no matter how weary we become from life’s demands,
especially the demands that we have absolutely no interest in but that we must do nonetheless,
We must keep going.
We must keep persevering until we make it to the other side.
This is what life requires.
Nemo knows this.
Yet, my friend and her girls know something, too,
Something that God Godself has known since the very beginning:
Sometimes we must take a day and designate it as a
No paddle day.
A day of being,
A day of discussing the power of joy, grief, and journey.
A day of meditating on the wisdom of creation.
A day of rest.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Sit With Me
I happened to be in Barb The Art Teacher’s classroom this afternoon when her last 3rd grade class arrived. At the beginning of each class period, her 3rd graders take part in a meditation moment during which soft music is played and students are asked simply to sit quietly, listen, and focus.
Today, though, something went wrong and the class found itself sitting in silence. After B unsuccessfully fidgeted with the speaker cord and volume buttons, she said, “I guess we’ll just have to meditate to the hum of the air conditioner.” The class moaned. I said, “It’s okay not to have music, boys and girls. Silence is actually good for you. I sat in silence a lot when it snowed because I didn’t have electricity and there wasn’t anything to make noise. It was actually very peaceful and calming.” I’m sure that my words meant very little to the class, yet they mean so much to me.
I began to appreciate silence when I worked as a camp counselor during college, but I didn’t begin to fully understand its importance until I was a student in divinity school. It was then that I started to understand two of life’s most profound contradictions: It is in silence that God often speaks the loudest and Doing nothing is often doing the greatest amount of something that can be done.
Last night as I talked to my mom, I told her that I’d really enjoyed my three days of winter weather. Thankfully, I had power for all but 10-12 hours of those three days, but I didn’t have cable or internet for most of that time so I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for not doing any work. Instead, I slept on my own schedule, cleaned on my own schedule, walked and played with Bullet the Dog on his schedule, watched movies and DVDs that I normally don’t have an opportunity to watch, and enjoyed the absence of noise and activity that almost always fills my days. At the end of my unplanned winter vacation, I felt like I’d had a true Sabbath. For the first time in a really long time, I felt truly rested.
It’s no wonder, then, that I smiled when I read today’s devotion out of Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling (Kids Version). It read:
Take a moment and just sit quietly with me. Let my love surround you and fill you. Feel the light of my presence and enjoy my Peace. I am using these quiet moments to do much more than you can imagine. Give me this gift of your time, and then watch how I bless you and those you love.
Your friendship with me is changing you from the inside out. I am shaping you into the person I want you to be…
Friends, I must confess that when the power first went out on Friday afternoon and I realized that I could be spending days alone in nothing but silence, I sort of panicked. I began thinking of ways to change the situation, yet after I’d placed candles in each room and made sure that there was enough light for me not to be scared, I found that my heart and my spirit had already begun settling into the silence. Shortly thereafter I drifted to sleep and woke up feeling refreshed a few hours later, and throughout the new two days, and even today, I noticed myself craving silence over noise—desiring the beautiful sounds of rests over the beautiful notes of rhythm and melody.
“Take a little while to slow down and sit with me,” I hear God urging. “Let my presence surround you. Let me give you peace.”
Selah.
And peace.
Today, though, something went wrong and the class found itself sitting in silence. After B unsuccessfully fidgeted with the speaker cord and volume buttons, she said, “I guess we’ll just have to meditate to the hum of the air conditioner.” The class moaned. I said, “It’s okay not to have music, boys and girls. Silence is actually good for you. I sat in silence a lot when it snowed because I didn’t have electricity and there wasn’t anything to make noise. It was actually very peaceful and calming.” I’m sure that my words meant very little to the class, yet they mean so much to me.
I began to appreciate silence when I worked as a camp counselor during college, but I didn’t begin to fully understand its importance until I was a student in divinity school. It was then that I started to understand two of life’s most profound contradictions: It is in silence that God often speaks the loudest and Doing nothing is often doing the greatest amount of something that can be done.
Last night as I talked to my mom, I told her that I’d really enjoyed my three days of winter weather. Thankfully, I had power for all but 10-12 hours of those three days, but I didn’t have cable or internet for most of that time so I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for not doing any work. Instead, I slept on my own schedule, cleaned on my own schedule, walked and played with Bullet the Dog on his schedule, watched movies and DVDs that I normally don’t have an opportunity to watch, and enjoyed the absence of noise and activity that almost always fills my days. At the end of my unplanned winter vacation, I felt like I’d had a true Sabbath. For the first time in a really long time, I felt truly rested.
It’s no wonder, then, that I smiled when I read today’s devotion out of Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling (Kids Version). It read:
Take a moment and just sit quietly with me. Let my love surround you and fill you. Feel the light of my presence and enjoy my Peace. I am using these quiet moments to do much more than you can imagine. Give me this gift of your time, and then watch how I bless you and those you love.
Your friendship with me is changing you from the inside out. I am shaping you into the person I want you to be…
Friends, I must confess that when the power first went out on Friday afternoon and I realized that I could be spending days alone in nothing but silence, I sort of panicked. I began thinking of ways to change the situation, yet after I’d placed candles in each room and made sure that there was enough light for me not to be scared, I found that my heart and my spirit had already begun settling into the silence. Shortly thereafter I drifted to sleep and woke up feeling refreshed a few hours later, and throughout the new two days, and even today, I noticed myself craving silence over noise—desiring the beautiful sounds of rests over the beautiful notes of rhythm and melody.
“Take a little while to slow down and sit with me,” I hear God urging. “Let my presence surround you. Let me give you peace.”
Selah.
And peace.
Monday, July 6, 2015
The Volcanic Brain Blender and Rest
God created the world in six days and then rested on the seventh.
Jesus traveled and taught and healed and loved until he could do no more and then found retreat to rest and pray.
God commands that we remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.
Jesus tells all who are weary and heavy-laden to come to him and find rest.
So why is it so hard?
Why is it so hard simply to rest?
Yesterday, I played Dixit with my niece and nephews. Dixit is game where one player, the active player, gives a description of one of the six art-cards in his/her hand and the other players each choose a card in their hands that best matches the description. All cards are laid down, mixed up, and turned over. Players must then choose which card they think was the active player’s card. Points are awarded according to the game’s point system until a winner is declared. The kids really enjoy playing Dixit, and I enjoy playing with them. Sometimes it’s hard to guess which card matches the description of “really weird” or “scary” or “strange” when most of the game-cards could fit those descriptions, but it certainly is fun to try.
During one of my turns in yesterday’s game, I laid down the image of a volcano erupting with various types of symbols. Some were mathematical. Some were musical. Some were literary. They all were mixed up and random and exploding at the same time. The description that I gave? “What my mind does when I try to fall asleep.”
Joe the Counselor calls this the brain blender. I’ve studied enough centering prayer and meditation practices to know some techniques that help work through and let go of the volcanic blender of thoughts that explosively run toward me when I slow down to sleep, but it’s still frustrating to be chased by thoughts of what I could be or need to be doing if I find time to lay down to rest during the day or thoughts of what I could have done better or what might possibly happen in the future when I lay down to sleep at night.
I like to sleep. I find genuine pleasure in snuggling into bed and think it’d be great if America would adopt the idea of taking a siesta each day—or if Kindergarten would simply take a nap each day! And yet we don’t. We, as a society, are expected to do as much as we can with the time that we’re given—whether it be pleasurable activity or the work that pays to fund those pleasurable activities. And we, as a church, are taught to serve others selflessly—whether it be with our time or our talents. For those of us who are recovering people-pleasers with a genuine heart to serve others, this doesn’t create much time for guiltless rest—except at night when our bodies crash—and then we must work through the volcanic brain blender.
I meant to send one of my friends a birthday present last week. When I wrote her to tell her that I’d not gotten to the post office to mail her gift, I mentioned that I’d been sleeping in the moments when I wasn’t scheduled to be somewhere to needed to help around the house. I also apologized for this. She responded:
You are absolutely correct that I’m not concerned about my present not being mailed—except that it is something from you and that makes me happy! But I am concerned about you. Perhaps part of the “problem” is that you are tired?!?! You give 200% all school year and at church and I know you’ve been helping your mom. So, when is your time just to rest? Don’t be too hard on yourself—if you don’t need to get up for a few days, don’t get up. Refuel your physical body even as you renew your spiritual body. I love you very much!
Her message made me cry.
Joe the Counselor said that I’d be surprised by how many people said that what they wanted and needed most was to get more rest.
God created the world in six days and then rested on the seventh.
Jesus traveled and taught and healed and loved until he could do no more and then found retreat to rest and pray.
God commands that we remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.
Jesus tells all who are weary and heavy-laden to come to him and find rest.
So why is it so hard?
Why is it so hard simply to rest?
Oh God, help us to rest.
And to know that it’s okay.
Even good.
And needed.
To rest.
Amen.
Jesus traveled and taught and healed and loved until he could do no more and then found retreat to rest and pray.
God commands that we remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.
Jesus tells all who are weary and heavy-laden to come to him and find rest.
So why is it so hard?
Why is it so hard simply to rest?
Yesterday, I played Dixit with my niece and nephews. Dixit is game where one player, the active player, gives a description of one of the six art-cards in his/her hand and the other players each choose a card in their hands that best matches the description. All cards are laid down, mixed up, and turned over. Players must then choose which card they think was the active player’s card. Points are awarded according to the game’s point system until a winner is declared. The kids really enjoy playing Dixit, and I enjoy playing with them. Sometimes it’s hard to guess which card matches the description of “really weird” or “scary” or “strange” when most of the game-cards could fit those descriptions, but it certainly is fun to try.
During one of my turns in yesterday’s game, I laid down the image of a volcano erupting with various types of symbols. Some were mathematical. Some were musical. Some were literary. They all were mixed up and random and exploding at the same time. The description that I gave? “What my mind does when I try to fall asleep.”
Joe the Counselor calls this the brain blender. I’ve studied enough centering prayer and meditation practices to know some techniques that help work through and let go of the volcanic blender of thoughts that explosively run toward me when I slow down to sleep, but it’s still frustrating to be chased by thoughts of what I could be or need to be doing if I find time to lay down to rest during the day or thoughts of what I could have done better or what might possibly happen in the future when I lay down to sleep at night.
I like to sleep. I find genuine pleasure in snuggling into bed and think it’d be great if America would adopt the idea of taking a siesta each day—or if Kindergarten would simply take a nap each day! And yet we don’t. We, as a society, are expected to do as much as we can with the time that we’re given—whether it be pleasurable activity or the work that pays to fund those pleasurable activities. And we, as a church, are taught to serve others selflessly—whether it be with our time or our talents. For those of us who are recovering people-pleasers with a genuine heart to serve others, this doesn’t create much time for guiltless rest—except at night when our bodies crash—and then we must work through the volcanic brain blender.
I meant to send one of my friends a birthday present last week. When I wrote her to tell her that I’d not gotten to the post office to mail her gift, I mentioned that I’d been sleeping in the moments when I wasn’t scheduled to be somewhere to needed to help around the house. I also apologized for this. She responded:
You are absolutely correct that I’m not concerned about my present not being mailed—except that it is something from you and that makes me happy! But I am concerned about you. Perhaps part of the “problem” is that you are tired?!?! You give 200% all school year and at church and I know you’ve been helping your mom. So, when is your time just to rest? Don’t be too hard on yourself—if you don’t need to get up for a few days, don’t get up. Refuel your physical body even as you renew your spiritual body. I love you very much!
Her message made me cry.
Joe the Counselor said that I’d be surprised by how many people said that what they wanted and needed most was to get more rest.
God created the world in six days and then rested on the seventh.
Jesus traveled and taught and healed and loved until he could do no more and then found retreat to rest and pray.
God commands that we remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.
Jesus tells all who are weary and heavy-laden to come to him and find rest.
So why is it so hard?
Why is it so hard simply to rest?
Oh God, help us to rest.
And to know that it’s okay.
Even good.
And needed.
To rest.
Amen.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Come To Me...And Rest
One of my biggest accomplishments of all of my years at camp was laying the foundation for my friend Humphries to learn to play the guitar.
A couple of years after we first played together, I drove to Humphries house to visit. Naturally, we busted out our guitars and began to play. A little while later, we’d written a song.
It’s a simple song. The words come from scripture. I honestly don’t remember why it emerged that day. But it did. And it’s a song that I often find myself singing…especially when I’m tired…which is a lot…because working two very public jobs while also trying to be a good friend and family member, responsible citizen, and healthy self is tiring.
Yesterday’s sermon was on the importance of rest—for both the body and soul. We are our best selves when we are our rested selves. We are only able to project peace and joy when we are our rested selves. We need rest. After all, God created rest through the very act of resting.
And so…during yesterday’s early service…I sang that little song that Humphries and I wrote…and it’s been the calming earworm in my mind ever since…and while you can’t hear the music right now, I pray you take comfort in the words…and remember to rest.
Come To Me
7/3/10
Matthew 11:28-29
with Amy Humphries
Come to me
All you who labor and are tired
Come to me
And I will give you rest
Take my easy yoke
And learn from me
For I am gentle
And humble in heart
Yes, you will find rest
For your weary soul
Just come to me
My burden is light
Come to me
My burden is light
Come to me
Come to me
A couple of years after we first played together, I drove to Humphries house to visit. Naturally, we busted out our guitars and began to play. A little while later, we’d written a song.
It’s a simple song. The words come from scripture. I honestly don’t remember why it emerged that day. But it did. And it’s a song that I often find myself singing…especially when I’m tired…which is a lot…because working two very public jobs while also trying to be a good friend and family member, responsible citizen, and healthy self is tiring.
Yesterday’s sermon was on the importance of rest—for both the body and soul. We are our best selves when we are our rested selves. We are only able to project peace and joy when we are our rested selves. We need rest. After all, God created rest through the very act of resting.
And so…during yesterday’s early service…I sang that little song that Humphries and I wrote…and it’s been the calming earworm in my mind ever since…and while you can’t hear the music right now, I pray you take comfort in the words…and remember to rest.
Come To Me
7/3/10
Matthew 11:28-29
with Amy Humphries
Come to me
All you who labor and are tired
Come to me
And I will give you rest
Take my easy yoke
And learn from me
For I am gentle
And humble in heart
Yes, you will find rest
For your weary soul
Just come to me
My burden is light
Come to me
My burden is light
Come to me
Come to me
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Let Your God Love You
My clothes are back in my closet but the rest of the exiled stuff is still scattered on my floor.
My fifth and final load of belongings from SC is in the house but it is nowhere close to being settled.
My new computer battery has been ordered and my NC license has been secured.
My slightly wrecked car is no longer injured and is getting new tires, an alignment, and an oil change tomorrow.
I forgot how to play one of my songs in front of 300 teenagers yesterday but managed to work the mess-up into my talk.
My nephew has pneumonia but we still had a lovely time playing with his sister today.
I’m going to my favorite place in the world tomorrow and to visit my grandmother next week.
But I am tired. I am so very tired.
And a friend who recently betrayed me and cut me off is pressing heavily on my heart and mind today.
As I sat down to write today’s note, not knowing what I was going to write, I looked at the bulletin board above my desk—one thing that IS in decent shape—and saw the poem that I was meant to post. I didn’t write it. At the moment I can’t even remember where I found it. In a book somewhere. I can tell that much by the page number and font. But I want to share it with you now…because I have a feeling I’m not the only one who needs to hear it.
Be silent,
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God
Look upon you.
That is all.
God knows
And understands.
God loves you with
An enormous love.
Wanting only to
Look upon you
With Love.
Quiet
Still.
Be.
Let your God—
Love you.
I think I’ll go do that now. Will you join me?
My fifth and final load of belongings from SC is in the house but it is nowhere close to being settled.
My new computer battery has been ordered and my NC license has been secured.
My slightly wrecked car is no longer injured and is getting new tires, an alignment, and an oil change tomorrow.
I forgot how to play one of my songs in front of 300 teenagers yesterday but managed to work the mess-up into my talk.
My nephew has pneumonia but we still had a lovely time playing with his sister today.
I’m going to my favorite place in the world tomorrow and to visit my grandmother next week.
But I am tired. I am so very tired.
And a friend who recently betrayed me and cut me off is pressing heavily on my heart and mind today.
As I sat down to write today’s note, not knowing what I was going to write, I looked at the bulletin board above my desk—one thing that IS in decent shape—and saw the poem that I was meant to post. I didn’t write it. At the moment I can’t even remember where I found it. In a book somewhere. I can tell that much by the page number and font. But I want to share it with you now…because I have a feeling I’m not the only one who needs to hear it.
Be silent,
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God
Look upon you.
That is all.
God knows
And understands.
God loves you with
An enormous love.
Wanting only to
Look upon you
With Love.
Quiet
Still.
Be.
Let your God—
Love you.
I think I’ll go do that now. Will you join me?
Thursday, August 30, 2012
A Colourful Ego
A conversation with a friend yesterday brought to mind my favorite poem. Chances are good that I've posted it before or that I’ll post it again, but I want to post it today because of what I’ve learned over the past two days. This morning, we finished an 8 hour spiritual development workshop entitled, “Lead Like Jesus.” I must admit that I wasn’t excited about having to attend this workshop; however, I was wrong to discount the time before giving it a try. The material was actually very good--something that I could see myself leading one day. In fact, I asked the presenter how I could become a trained facilitator after today’s session was over and he gave me all the information that I need.
During the first part of the seminar yesterday afternoon, we examined the heart. The leader presented the concept that we let our EGO's get in the way of leading like Jesus. EGO stands for Edging God Out and the two things that most often edge out God are pride and fear. While sitting through that part of the seminar, I realized that I need to examine my pride, figure out the areas where I am prideful, and begin working on those areas. I know they exist, but pride is not an area that I tend to focus on when naming my demons.
But fear...most people who know me know that fear often paralyzes me. The workbook that we're using said that fear is "an insecure view of the future producing self-protection." Self protection makes one hide behind their position, withhold information in an effort to hold on to power, try to intimidate others, try to hoard control, and run from honest feedback. Fear and pride are said to separate a person from God, others, and self; lead to unhappiness through comparisons; and distort the truth into a false sense of security and self. The opposite of fear is confidence in God's love, resting assured in God's nature, goodness, purpose, plan, process and provision; being transparent; and proceeding in faith one step at a time.
While I do rest (or at least actively attempt to rest--that's an oxymoron, eh? :-)) in God's nature, love, goodness, process, and provision, and while I am fairly transparent with many people, I realized yesterday that I don't always rest in God's purpose and plan because I don't understand God's purpose and plan, where I fit in how it plays out, how free-will fits with any of it, or if "it" really exists. I don't understand God's interaction with this world, God's answering of prayers, God's allowance of deep suffering, and so many other things. So while I want to move forward in faith one step at a time, and while I'm learning that the process of journey is where life abides, I still often live in fear. Not in fear of dying. But in fear of failing. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being alone. Fear of making the wrong decisions. Fear of being abandoned...even though I will scream until I'm blue in the face that we are never, ever alone. I truly believe that...I just have a hard time feeling it for myself.
So I suppose this poem resonates with me because of my deep, underlying fears...fears that have often turned to reality. I first read this poem in the tenth grade. It’s the only thing I remember from that year’s English class. Since that time—and even before—I have loved deeply more times that I can count but had to watch that love die as people have walked away.
I don't want to live in fear. I don't want to greet life with a skepticism that never really fades. I've just seen and felt too much unwarranted heartache to be able to ignore it and believe that life always ends up happily ever after. Maybe it does. Maybe heaven is the happily ever after. Then again, maybe my faith just isn't strong enough and my expectations are too high. I don't know. But I know that I'm going to keep fighting my fears and trying to embrace this life with the faith and joy and hope and peace and love that I know exist and that I know are God’s ultimate design for God’s beloved.
I hope you'll join me in doing the same.
-----------
Colours
When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's shipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.
--Yevgeny Yevtushenko
During the first part of the seminar yesterday afternoon, we examined the heart. The leader presented the concept that we let our EGO's get in the way of leading like Jesus. EGO stands for Edging God Out and the two things that most often edge out God are pride and fear. While sitting through that part of the seminar, I realized that I need to examine my pride, figure out the areas where I am prideful, and begin working on those areas. I know they exist, but pride is not an area that I tend to focus on when naming my demons.
But fear...most people who know me know that fear often paralyzes me. The workbook that we're using said that fear is "an insecure view of the future producing self-protection." Self protection makes one hide behind their position, withhold information in an effort to hold on to power, try to intimidate others, try to hoard control, and run from honest feedback. Fear and pride are said to separate a person from God, others, and self; lead to unhappiness through comparisons; and distort the truth into a false sense of security and self. The opposite of fear is confidence in God's love, resting assured in God's nature, goodness, purpose, plan, process and provision; being transparent; and proceeding in faith one step at a time.
While I do rest (or at least actively attempt to rest--that's an oxymoron, eh? :-)) in God's nature, love, goodness, process, and provision, and while I am fairly transparent with many people, I realized yesterday that I don't always rest in God's purpose and plan because I don't understand God's purpose and plan, where I fit in how it plays out, how free-will fits with any of it, or if "it" really exists. I don't understand God's interaction with this world, God's answering of prayers, God's allowance of deep suffering, and so many other things. So while I want to move forward in faith one step at a time, and while I'm learning that the process of journey is where life abides, I still often live in fear. Not in fear of dying. But in fear of failing. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being alone. Fear of making the wrong decisions. Fear of being abandoned...even though I will scream until I'm blue in the face that we are never, ever alone. I truly believe that...I just have a hard time feeling it for myself.
So I suppose this poem resonates with me because of my deep, underlying fears...fears that have often turned to reality. I first read this poem in the tenth grade. It’s the only thing I remember from that year’s English class. Since that time—and even before—I have loved deeply more times that I can count but had to watch that love die as people have walked away.
I don't want to live in fear. I don't want to greet life with a skepticism that never really fades. I've just seen and felt too much unwarranted heartache to be able to ignore it and believe that life always ends up happily ever after. Maybe it does. Maybe heaven is the happily ever after. Then again, maybe my faith just isn't strong enough and my expectations are too high. I don't know. But I know that I'm going to keep fighting my fears and trying to embrace this life with the faith and joy and hope and peace and love that I know exist and that I know are God’s ultimate design for God’s beloved.
I hope you'll join me in doing the same.
-----------
Colours
When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's shipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.
--Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Friday, July 6, 2012
I Love The Mountains
If you were inside my head right now, then you’d be singing, “I love the mountains, I love the rolling hills, I love the flowers, I love the daffodils, I love the fireflies when all the lights are low…”
I do love the mountains.
In fact, I love the mountains so much that I chose to forgo the lake and swimming pool with the kids today so that I could stay at the cabin and watch the clouds cast shadows onto and away from the mountains.
[I’m sure there’s something to be learned from the experience, but, believe it or not, I’ve chosen just to let the experience be what it was—a beautifully peaceful experience.]
I drifted in and out of sleep just as the shadows drifted over the land and I breathed deeply and smiled often and for one brief moment I felt no stress…(even though I did miss the boys and girl and battle with a little bit guilt over not being with them).
Tomorrow, we’ll go for a boat ride and then probably go swimming and then after that I’m not sure what we’ll do.
But it really doesn’t matter.
All that matters is I’m here with my family and I’m in the mountains and I can breathe a little easier and I am content—for now.
I do love the mountains.
In fact, I love the mountains so much that I chose to forgo the lake and swimming pool with the kids today so that I could stay at the cabin and watch the clouds cast shadows onto and away from the mountains.
[I’m sure there’s something to be learned from the experience, but, believe it or not, I’ve chosen just to let the experience be what it was—a beautifully peaceful experience.]
I drifted in and out of sleep just as the shadows drifted over the land and I breathed deeply and smiled often and for one brief moment I felt no stress…(even though I did miss the boys and girl and battle with a little bit guilt over not being with them).
Tomorrow, we’ll go for a boat ride and then probably go swimming and then after that I’m not sure what we’ll do.
But it really doesn’t matter.
All that matters is I’m here with my family and I’m in the mountains and I can breathe a little easier and I am content—for now.
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