a bit dicey

Reminder:

"the life you've been waiting for is happening all around you.
This is it,
This is life in all its glory, swirling and unfolding around us
disguised as pedantic, pedestrian non-events.
But pull off the mask, and you will find your life, waiting
to be made
chosen
woven
crafted."

--Shauna Niequist



It's interesting to me how predictions can be so wrong,
i.e., the weather.
Today it was predicted that it would rain. If I noticed correctly, it mildly sprinkled for 5 mins earlier this morning. But the rain could still come, for the day is not yet over. So sometimes it's not about predictions being wrong but that they are wrongly timed.

I've avoided making many predictions for my life. Well maybe that's not true. I haven't had many specific predictions for my life. I think I remember having conversations at the age of 16, saying I wanted to be married by the age of 22 and have my first baby before 25. WHAT was I thinking?! Approaching the ripe old age of 23 this year, I cannot imagine that life for me. Possibly the marriage part, but definitely not the baby-making part. I am coming to terms with the fact that everyone's stories are so, so different. And we cannot predict or define what is best for us, for only One knows that, and His ways are very unconventional.
Unpredictable, in fact.
[ note: looking up "unpredictable" in the Thesaurus, I found "hanging by a thread" and "whimsical" both as synonyms. I would never put those two together. ]

I've been obsessively and repetitively reading Shauna's speech to a group of college graduates. (see; above)
It fit for them on graduation day and it fits for me right here in a different graduation of sorts.
I'm moving on from the life of a nanny to working at an office downtown. I'll soon be living with not just one other person but two lovely friends. I am moving down from one layer of my heart deep into the originally created me, going scared but going nonetheless.
And when the going gets tough, I need to be reminded of truth like this:

"Commit to being a lifelong learner, a person of relentless curiosity.
And become a student of your own developing self. Pay attention to what moves you, what you love, what makes you angry, what makes you exhausted. There are no right answers to those kind of questions, but if you don't pay attention, you may find yourself several years down the road, living a life that looks good on paper but doesn't ring true to the deepest parts of you. That's a terrible place to be.
Become a student of what you love, because what you love flows out of the way God made you.

That wiggly, sometimes scary feeling like anything could happen and you don't totally know what's next, that feeling is called Life, and it would be best for you to make friends with that feeling
because it will be with you forever. It would be best, as well, for you to remind yourself that you're not the only one feeling it.

You are more than dust and bones.
You are spirit and power and image of God.
And you have been given today."

Slayer

Today: more from a followed blog. This brought rest to my soul, knowing that in my current mind/heart battles, I am well-equipped to overcome. Not only that, these current mind/heart battles may not be life and death after all. They may just be the mirage of a giant wall, not really a giant wall at all.

Thankful.
Enjoy these reassuring words:

My best friend sent me a sword a few months ago. In the card she told me I could slay dragons with it. When I got it, I instantly thought, "Psshhh. No I can't. Not these dragons..."

I felt a nudge in my spirit. You know that feeling, the slight correction from our Divine Madman. The whisper came quiet.

Oh, daughter. Yes. If you only believed in you as much as I do. If you only saw the strength... 

Wait, me? Can I? My heart started pounding in response--

her own war dance in preparation of our battle.

Yes.

She joined in the whispers of the One who holds her hand when I've forgotten.

I've learned something over the past few months. You know when you're listening to the wrong voices. You get antsy, confused, dragons come out of nowhere and their fire-breath feels hot and your heart gets all blistery.

Even your body responds-- nervous stomach, headaches, exhaustion.

Danielle Laporte mentions in her book The Firestarter Sessions, that the phrase, "It just doesn't feel right," has been down-played by far too many people. I agree. I've also heard that the "gut feeling" we experience doesn't come from our actual gut, but from our brain.

Hmm.

So this brick wall of conflict you're experiencing... could it be a mirage? Could it tip over with just the slightest touch? What would happen if you just tried to give it a little nudge?

Sometimes, the man behind the curtain is just that-- a man behind the curtain. There are no monsters here. 

And if they do show up? (because they sometimes do, they're pesky like that)

You have what it takes to slay them.

Amen, Elora.

the man in the middle

"Please remember ...
there's a Creator standing the middle of your story. And he doesn't want you to die alone."
Louie Giglio



I spent yesterday evening pruning and digging through the garden boxes in my backyard. It seems that few other tasks help clear my mind, or focus my mind, like gardening. Particularly weeding.
The box above and to the right was especially thick. Thick with what? That is the question. Grasses, chives, other long plant-like species. One such species has nearly microscopic thorns ALL over it. I mean, covered. Even the leaves. I hadn't seen such a plant since my days in the Amazon. It was beastly. And I was determined to conquer it.

I can still feel the tingling in my fingers from the still present teeny thorns that have made their home in my hand. I couldn't help but think of this experience in a deep, metaphorical sense (as I usually think about simple things in life. God forbid anything to remain simple, practical, or without a gargantuan life lesson buried in it for me).

My brokenness runs deep, like the tough & lengthy roots of the thorny weeds in my garden. And unless you take care of the roots, the weeds will never fully disappear. And still, even after removing the roots, the dang weeds will most likely come back. Because what is a garden without constant maintenance? Where is the joy gained from beauty and growth without the pain of digging, pulling, cutting, and getting a few thorns in your hand?

I guarantee you when that box is filled with flowers or vegetables or whatever my little heart desires to grow in there, I will not focus on the memory of the thorns or the strange bite marks or the fear of re-discovering the enormous, brown spider that made its presence known to me. Nope, my thoughts in those days will be of accomplishment, of "it was worth it," and "what spider?" I will be so consumed with the greater purpose of having something come from that soil than of what hurt me while working through it.

Which brings me to tonight and my opening quote. There is a man in the middle. He stood in the center and made a world around him; made all things through his presence. He created from a pure heart. He worked in love. And He still works in love, for our benefit. He still creates, for our beauty. He toils alongside. He tarries until it is finished. He will be here forever.
Do not forgot, dear soul, that He is the most important. No other can stand in that center. No other can complete His work.
One day you will find someone who shares your heartbeat.
For now, commit yourself to Him who formed you in darkness, who made your being from the dust, who called you by name, who clothes you in his perfection, who extracts purpose from all of our broken hearts.


Maybe we all should garden more. :)




if you have endured great despair...
getting a transfusion from the fire
picking the scabs off your heart
then wringing it out like a sock...

You powdered your sorrow
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

-Anne Sexton-

story time, kids

Today:
"She knows that Jesus is comfortable with broken people who remember how to love."



an excerpt from Brennan Manning's Ruthless Trust:

A water-bearer in India had two large pots. Each hung on opposite ends of a pole that he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other was perfect.

The latter always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house. The cracked pot arrived only half-full. Every day for a full two years, the water-bearer delivered only one and a half pots of water.

The perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments because it fulfilled magnificently the purpose for which it had been made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its imperfection, miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After the second year of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, the unhappy pot spoke to the water-bearer one day by the stream. 

"I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you," the pot said.

"Why?" asked the bearer. 

"What are you ashamed of?"

"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all this work and you don't get full value from your efforts."

The water-bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."

Indeed as they went up the hill, the cracked pot took notice of the beautiful wildflowers on the side of the path, bright in the sun's glow, and the sight cheered it up a bit.

But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad that it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, not on the other pot's side? That is because I have always known about your flaw, and I have taken advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path and every day, as we have walked back from the stream, you have watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. 

Without you being just the way you are, he would not have had this beauty to grace his house."

If you only look at us, you might as well miss the brightness.

We carry this precious message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives.

That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us.

2Cor4:7

New favorite:

I found a treasure, friends.
Another beloved woman who writes, most descriptively, about her life. And I am so overwhelmed by the power and beauty of her words.

Maybe this is one of my shortcomings... I spend so much time drooling over other people's gifts that I rarely share my own. But I love sharing the treasures that I find on the world wide web, so this will always be a part of what I do here: copy and paste the beautiful stories that I so enjoy reading myself.

This is Erika.
She has lots of good things to say. Unspeakable emotions welled in me as I read her bio. I hope you go visit her space and receive even just an ounce of the inspiration that I have.

"I am The Life Artist. 

I came by this name in the unusual way. The WAY that is defined by the voices of holy, devoted friendship attached to The Voice that spoke my knitting together. Twenty friends (plus a few more) with the rough and tender fingertips of the Spirit, told me it was okay to say, “I am”; to believe in the un-earthing of truest self; a self named not by parents of flesh, but Parents Triune. 

And I believe, I believe that God would give a name to His children.  What earthly parent, even, wouldn’t do that? These double-dozen friends and Father held me and heart-deep-traveled with me while we jointly explored what the mixture of my dust looks, feels, moves, breathes, contributes, speaks like. I wept myself dry; discovered myself unbelievable; broke my pride-back six-ways-to-resurrected-Sunday. And the name heaven gave me awoke from slumber in my belly, yawned deep and opened eyes new to the world. Not a thing has looked the same since Father blew His breath on the dormant seed of myself . . . Life the voice whispers strong . . . I need you to be Life . . . The weary world needs to see My Life.

For this reason I am passionately audacious about LIFE; living. You know, the kind when and where you’re awake – in all respects.  I gather stories and symbols and Spirit interaction from my microscopic, mundane and mystery filled moments.  I live with the great hope that each molecule, every word, every choice, each individual thread of circumstance, gesture, dance, phrase, laughter, soul-crack, brow-pain, sea, mountain, rain, shine . . .  is woven together intricately and deeply with a deeper story of love, as expressed by The LIFE of Jesus."

Amazing, right? My heart lept and my chest constricted at her telling of the journey to our deepest, truest selves. It is a long time comin', this finding who you are. But may we each choose again today that we are still going, still treading, still stepping, still climbing... we're going further still, until we see the glorious sight, feel the amazing awakening, and hear the holy whisper... 

"You shall be called by a new name, which the mouth of the Lord will announce."

Is. 62:2