Some music that helped me much this morning:
A snails trail of time, these days of waiting. Waiting for our house to close, waiting for spring, waiting for tomorrow. So much time to contemplate God's coordination.
If our home had closed on February 29, we would be in The Philippines already....but then we would not be here to help my Mom and Dad. If we had known the house would not close, I would not have had to take my dog to the shelter at the last minute, maybe someone would have taken him....but then maybe the person who needed him most was looking for a shelter dog.
If we had already left the States we would miss out on all of this time with my brother and sis-in-law and nephews. That is some of the time I am most grateful for. I feel relationship renewed and it is priceless.
God's timing is perfect.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Just some pics of our time in the NW
The fabulous view from my mom and dad's deck.
Zipline? yep, Grandpa loves to spoil his boys.
It's a newt, not the gingrich type thankfully (mighta had to kill it!) kidding, just kidding
Shot put po boy style
5 boys in a tree.
Biseratta, the girl we didn't know we had!
My dad and bro. Men make fire, ugha ugha!
First out the door for the Easter egg hunt.
Vine leaf maple growing new sprouts.
Lily native to WA.
Boy on dolphin 20 miles from salt water, no wonder fish looks dry.
My Aunt Sally's mountain. Most folks just know it as Mt. Rainier.
Camellia blooming in my sis in law and bro's yard. Total beauty!
It looks like we have about 5 more weeks until we fly to Boracay. Why the delay? I have no idea. I just trust that God has good plans for us.
So we hang out with whomever can tolerate our craziness, and we try to enjoy this season. I must say that our boys are experts at enjoying seasons!
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Superfamily
I have not learned how to respond to peoples' comments when they hear our story. I am made uncomfortable by 'wow, how awesome', like we are a super family among dullards.
But you know...what we are doing is not super for us. For us it's the norm. God planned this for us. He removed fear, opened doors, provided money. We don't feel special, or super, or heroic. This feels like life. Our life.
There is nothing greater in what we are doing than in the man who works diligently to find homes for the homeless, or the woman who treats cancer patients with radiation, or the carpenter who sows beauty. Or the mom who gets up each morning. Each of these folks can be found in my family. Are we all heroes then?
This post found over at Sarah Bessey's place rings with great truth:
We were so busy celebrating the Evangelical Hero that we forgot heroes come in all walks of life, callings and success ratios.
And, like so many in my generation, I became so tired of doing big things for God.
Tired of feeling like I didn't measure up.
Tired of gauging my obedience to someone else's calling.
Tired of feeling inconsequential.
Tired of defining success by what others see in terms of numbers or income or job title.
Tired of celebrating the preacher and ignoring the foster parents, the hospice workers, the carpenter, the faithful giver-in-secret, the teacher, the prophet-disguised-as-a-mother.
Tired of feeling like it - whatever it is - all depends on me.
Here is the funny thing I learned when I began to dis-entangle from my Evangelical Hero Complex: I'm pretty sure that there aren't actually any big things for God. There are only small things being done, over and over, with great love, as Mother Theresa said. With great faith. With great obedience. With great joy or suffering or wrestling or forgiving on a daily completely non-sexy basis. And grace covers all of it and God makes something beautiful out of our dust.
The Kingdom of God starts small, a grain of wheat, a mustard seed, a leaven in the loaf. And it spreads, oh, yes, it grows. But it starts small, even hidden in the secret places, a knitting together of wonder, perhaps. A candle on a lamp stand, a woman searching for a coin, a man in a field with a treasure worth selling everything to possess.
Even those people doing the big traditional Hero Things have told me this, they are just doing one thing at a time and the daily work of it doesn't look that sexy. There is a lot of blood, sweat and small wins coupled with small failures along the way and usually we are only seeing one small part in that moment of their life.
One soul is as valuable as thousands, millions. One soul is as important as 99, worth leaving everything behind to rescue. If there is one soul in your care, one face in your loving gaze, one hand you are holding, you are holding the world. If anything matters, everything matters and the work today, the love we give and receive and lavish on the seemingly small tasks and choices of our every day all tip the scales of justice and mercy in our world.
But you know...what we are doing is not super for us. For us it's the norm. God planned this for us. He removed fear, opened doors, provided money. We don't feel special, or super, or heroic. This feels like life. Our life.
There is nothing greater in what we are doing than in the man who works diligently to find homes for the homeless, or the woman who treats cancer patients with radiation, or the carpenter who sows beauty. Or the mom who gets up each morning. Each of these folks can be found in my family. Are we all heroes then?
This post found over at Sarah Bessey's place rings with great truth:
We were so busy celebrating the Evangelical Hero that we forgot heroes come in all walks of life, callings and success ratios.
And, like so many in my generation, I became so tired of doing big things for God.
Tired of feeling like I didn't measure up.
Tired of gauging my obedience to someone else's calling.
Tired of feeling inconsequential.
Tired of defining success by what others see in terms of numbers or income or job title.
Tired of celebrating the preacher and ignoring the foster parents, the hospice workers, the carpenter, the faithful giver-in-secret, the teacher, the prophet-disguised-as-a-mother.
Tired of feeling like it - whatever it is - all depends on me.
Here is the funny thing I learned when I began to dis-entangle from my Evangelical Hero Complex: I'm pretty sure that there aren't actually any big things for God. There are only small things being done, over and over, with great love, as Mother Theresa said. With great faith. With great obedience. With great joy or suffering or wrestling or forgiving on a daily completely non-sexy basis. And grace covers all of it and God makes something beautiful out of our dust.
The Kingdom of God starts small, a grain of wheat, a mustard seed, a leaven in the loaf. And it spreads, oh, yes, it grows. But it starts small, even hidden in the secret places, a knitting together of wonder, perhaps. A candle on a lamp stand, a woman searching for a coin, a man in a field with a treasure worth selling everything to possess.
It won't surprise anyone to know that I am no hero. I don't really want to be anymore. (Okay, so sometimes I do. I'll be honest. It'd be nice.) But I do want to take the work of my hands right now, today, whether it's a book I'm writing or a floor I'm sweeping or a phone call I'm making or a meal I'm cooking and I want to hold it all in my hand, in my spirit with a breath of prayer and intention, like we are all a fragile universe needing love in this moment.
And I want to honour and respect and celebrate the work of us all, big, small, noticed, unnoticed, seen, unseen.
He is The God Who Sees and I want to see with His eyes.
Even those people doing the big traditional Hero Things have told me this, they are just doing one thing at a time and the daily work of it doesn't look that sexy. There is a lot of blood, sweat and small wins coupled with small failures along the way and usually we are only seeing one small part in that moment of their life.
One soul is as valuable as thousands, millions. One soul is as important as 99, worth leaving everything behind to rescue. If there is one soul in your care, one face in your loving gaze, one hand you are holding, you are holding the world. If anything matters, everything matters and the work today, the love we give and receive and lavish on the seemingly small tasks and choices of our every day all tip the scales of justice and mercy in our world.
when the love doesn't register
There are times when the love of my family, friends and my Savior escapes me. It simply doesn't register within me. As far back as I can remember this has been true of my life. Perhaps it happens to everyone, or maybe just to a few of us. But those times drop me hard and I struggle to find my footing, struggle to know I'm loved by anyone.
The pastor at church this morning spoke of being alone in a crowd. Visiting my brother's church this morning I was blessed with a reminder that I'm not the only one who struggles to feel love on this spinning planet. Pastor Mary wondered at Jesus' ride into town at the dawn of His last week. Was He lonely? The crowds gathered and pressed in close, but He knew what was coming. He knew the destruction that would come to that city in coming decades, He knew of His own breaking to come and that many of these people would turn from Him. Jesus knew Himself to be the answer, and that so many would not choose Him and find Peace.
Jesus is the answer in my times of empty. But how to let Him fill me up. How to get out of the way. My friend A reminds me I'm His daughter, dearly loved, planned with a purpose from the beginning. And she tells me I'm beautiful. How undeserving I am of such a friend. But she points me to Jesus. When I can't hear Him, or see Him, I can call on my friend. Thank you.
I am learning (slowly) to feel the moments. The painful moments, and the joyful times. Lean into the pain. Grasp hold of joy and love when it's tangible and draw on your memories when the darkness presses in.
Moss in the damp woods on Orcas.
Sail boats heading out for a race. This shot from the top of Turtleback Mountain on Orcas.
Such a creation this little frog. Miracle of camo.
Starfish in shades of orange and purple were stuck the rocks.
Pretty big for a little crab.
The king and the wanderer.
This little seal was climbing up on the rocks and sliding down, he did it about 6 times.
More later. Off for a walk.
The pastor at church this morning spoke of being alone in a crowd. Visiting my brother's church this morning I was blessed with a reminder that I'm not the only one who struggles to feel love on this spinning planet. Pastor Mary wondered at Jesus' ride into town at the dawn of His last week. Was He lonely? The crowds gathered and pressed in close, but He knew what was coming. He knew the destruction that would come to that city in coming decades, He knew of His own breaking to come and that many of these people would turn from Him. Jesus knew Himself to be the answer, and that so many would not choose Him and find Peace.
Jesus is the answer in my times of empty. But how to let Him fill me up. How to get out of the way. My friend A reminds me I'm His daughter, dearly loved, planned with a purpose from the beginning. And she tells me I'm beautiful. How undeserving I am of such a friend. But she points me to Jesus. When I can't hear Him, or see Him, I can call on my friend. Thank you.
I am learning (slowly) to feel the moments. The painful moments, and the joyful times. Lean into the pain. Grasp hold of joy and love when it's tangible and draw on your memories when the darkness presses in.
Moss in the damp woods on Orcas.
Sail boats heading out for a race. This shot from the top of Turtleback Mountain on Orcas.
Such a creation this little frog. Miracle of camo.
Starfish in shades of orange and purple were stuck the rocks.
Pretty big for a little crab.
The king and the wanderer.
This little seal was climbing up on the rocks and sliding down, he did it about 6 times.
More later. Off for a walk.
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