It's been a long time since i've visited, let alone posted on my blog. I've been busy... preparing to become a parent that I haven't thought much about blogging. But I realized that I've kind of neglected something that means alot to me and that is: writing. I figure that in the next few months I will find it particularly difficult to find the time to write much of anything (what with having a newborn and all) so I want to take advantage of the time while I have it now.
Getting ready to be a parent... what does that mean? I am due in a little over four weeks and realized I'm no more ready today than I was on the day I found out I was pregnant. I've spent several months checking and re-checking my fears. My fears of failing or becoming the kind of mother who is either 1) not present or 2) smothering. Neither feel like very good parenting. But I've found that those two places are extremes! I'm an 'extremes' kind of person... It's either all or none with me. Then it dawned on me that regardless of the mother I fear I will become... the fact of the matter is I am going to be a mother and tossing and turning over unknown outcomes was silly and selfish. So i'm back to square one and i'm realizing that I need to be open to God's guidance and direction in order to be the kind of mother that He would like to see in me. I would like to be the kind of mother who is kind, patient, compassionate, understanding, gentle, considerate, joyful and positive... All these things that I can only glean from God.
I came across this verse in Hebrews 11:1 "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see". What an amazing picture... to truly believe that God is present I must hope and have the certainty that he truly exists even when I am blind. Becoming a parent will take a step of faith on my part, because I do not know what to expect in myself, in my baby, in my spouse or in God. I pray that hope is not lost in my blindness, but only deepened in my trust that He is present even when I am not.
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Monday, September 29, 2003
A new day.
I've been wrestling with a few different items these past few weeks: sacrifice and submission.
A few weeks ago, I met with a friend over hamburgers. We meet regularly to talk poetry. Our conversations always evolve into life matters and this particular day we began to discuss sacrifice. He was stating that he did not particularly jive with Heideggar's definition of sacrifice. Being that I never read this definition I asked him what in particular he didn't like about it and how he would define sacrifice. He continued by saying that he didn't believe that sacrifice was the giving of something to someone (whether it be a god or a person) but that sacrifice was an act that should only free oneself. I struggled with that definition as I started to think of sacrifice in terms of Christ and God. I almost don't see the point of 'sacrifice' if it doesn't have a recepient. For instance, in my marriage I come to a crossroads daily to sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifices are small and sometimes they are big. I remember the time Frank went to the Navy and how painful that was to be seperated from each other, but I feel that it was a sacrifice we both made in order to benefit our family. Likewise, I think of Christ's sacrifice on the cross what would be the point of this gift if it was only to free himself. I see this clearly as an act towards 'us' the reciepients of his grace, mercy and compassion. I admit that I need this gift daily. For it is not in my own strength that I can overcome my weaknesses, my selfishness, my pride. And without his gift/ his sacrifice I would not be able to in turn give. I could not serve others. I could not work with the homeless. I could not feel compassion. And even with his grace, I still fail. But it gives me hope to live, to get up and try again, to struggle well and to rest.
I've been wrestling with a few different items these past few weeks: sacrifice and submission.
A few weeks ago, I met with a friend over hamburgers. We meet regularly to talk poetry. Our conversations always evolve into life matters and this particular day we began to discuss sacrifice. He was stating that he did not particularly jive with Heideggar's definition of sacrifice. Being that I never read this definition I asked him what in particular he didn't like about it and how he would define sacrifice. He continued by saying that he didn't believe that sacrifice was the giving of something to someone (whether it be a god or a person) but that sacrifice was an act that should only free oneself. I struggled with that definition as I started to think of sacrifice in terms of Christ and God. I almost don't see the point of 'sacrifice' if it doesn't have a recepient. For instance, in my marriage I come to a crossroads daily to sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifices are small and sometimes they are big. I remember the time Frank went to the Navy and how painful that was to be seperated from each other, but I feel that it was a sacrifice we both made in order to benefit our family. Likewise, I think of Christ's sacrifice on the cross what would be the point of this gift if it was only to free himself. I see this clearly as an act towards 'us' the reciepients of his grace, mercy and compassion. I admit that I need this gift daily. For it is not in my own strength that I can overcome my weaknesses, my selfishness, my pride. And without his gift/ his sacrifice I would not be able to in turn give. I could not serve others. I could not work with the homeless. I could not feel compassion. And even with his grace, I still fail. But it gives me hope to live, to get up and try again, to struggle well and to rest.
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
I made it home. That is my parents home. It feels strange to be back and i've found that i'm restless. Coming into this old country town brings back so many good and painful memories... When I lived here I always felt some ambivalence for this valley: I hated it, because there was (is) nothing to do and I loved it, because it is where I went to college and it is where I met Frank. Just like any place the good and the bad showed itself to me. But returning here for an entire week has been strange. It was rodeo weekend and as much as I try to relate to the country culture... actually that is a lie. I don't try to relate. It repulses me. All my ideal values come up when I'm here and the conservative ideals of this country begin to annoy me. But I find that I'm restless for other reasons... This trip has been painful. On Monday, I was tempted to find a way to get back home, but then I realized that this is exactly where God wants me.
The past few months I've been feeling God chip away at my heart. My pride has become increasingly set. So in the process of becoming humbled I've been struck with how completely prideful my heart has become. In my pride, i've found a way to bypass the need for God and to rely on my own strength. So when I came here I thought that it was just a great idea to get away from the cilty and rest, but I've found that there is so much more to this visit. I realized on Monday that my home (Seattle) was the last place He wanted me to be. In the city I can run, I can hide, I can find a place to escape, but here it is just me. So here I am five days into my visit and I feel broken, inept and insecure. This week is not over so I'm just waiting to see where it leads me. I'm praying for humility, peace and hope. Humility to fall to my knees, peace to calm my troubled soul and a hope that goes beyond my understanding. And rest. I've realized that the rest I've needed is not just a physical need, but a spiritual necessity.
The past few months I've been feeling God chip away at my heart. My pride has become increasingly set. So in the process of becoming humbled I've been struck with how completely prideful my heart has become. In my pride, i've found a way to bypass the need for God and to rely on my own strength. So when I came here I thought that it was just a great idea to get away from the cilty and rest, but I've found that there is so much more to this visit. I realized on Monday that my home (Seattle) was the last place He wanted me to be. In the city I can run, I can hide, I can find a place to escape, but here it is just me. So here I am five days into my visit and I feel broken, inept and insecure. This week is not over so I'm just waiting to see where it leads me. I'm praying for humility, peace and hope. Humility to fall to my knees, peace to calm my troubled soul and a hope that goes beyond my understanding. And rest. I've realized that the rest I've needed is not just a physical need, but a spiritual necessity.
Friday, August 15, 2003
Monday, August 11, 2003
A friend of mine mentioned the other day that I had stopped blogging... I'd kind of forgotten about my blog with all the sudden changes, but I made a decision that I will faithfully blog each week. Today's entry will be particularly long, as I need to catch up with my lack of communication.
Quiet: My confessions
A while back I was reading a book about Cambodia and the torture that many Cambodians faced in the years of the Khemer Rouge. A story in that book that particularly struck me was about a buddhist monk. During the time of the Khemer Rouge many men and women were killed if they were educated, if they were monks and if they were related to anyone that was affluent in education or resources. So the survival of this female monk is a miracle. Many Cambodians found that their only hope of survival was to lie about their background. She, on the other hand, felt that her only refuge was to keep her faith. She continued to dress in monk attire, practice meditation and be honest about who she was. Of course, there is a story as to how she came to be a monk... but what is most striking about her story is that she was unwilling to trade her spiritual survival for physical survival. In all the chaos, in all the tragedy, in all the insanity of her time she survived by clinging to her passion.
As I reflect on this story, I can't remember a time in my life where I have ever had to cling to my faith for survival. I can't remember a time where it is my faith that I had to rely on in order to survive. Each day is a choice: I believe or I don't believe. So often that process is done on my whim. And in my contemplation I realize that a central theme of her story that is lacking in mine is quiet. Both the need for it and the search for it. When I was in seminary I participated in a class on spirituality. One of our assignments was to spend a day (as a class) at a monastary and there was no speaking allowed. It was entitled, 'A day of silence'. I found that the first two hours I was cool. I journaled. I read. I journaled some more. I wrote poetry. And then I couldn't handle it anymore. My class mates were sitting in different areas and the temptation would rise in me to start up a conversation. So I would move to a more isolated area of the monastary and what I found was that I could quiet myself physically, but I could not quiet myself spiritually, emotionally or mentally. I literally felt my life screaming. This remains true today. And i've realized that it is in the quiet where I must rely on God the most. There is no place to hide in the quiet. There is no place to go in the quiet. There is nothing to do in the quiet. There is only me and him.
Most might say, 'Who cares. Why worry yourself over this kind of ineptness?'. But I think why it disturbes me the most is because I know that in the chaos of my life I've created a sort of self-reliance. You see, I know I can do just about anything I put my mind to. When I was an undergrad I decided well I'm not just going to get a Bachelor of Arts... I'll get a Bachelor of Science. I won't stop there I'll get myself a Masters. Oh and while getting a Masters I can work 50 hours a week managing a cafe. I'll change lives and get a job at Friends of Youth and counsel pregnant young women. I can direct a community center... And the list never ends. My conviction is that I've found a sense of pride in my ability to take on any feat. I've found a comfort in my ability to tackle any goal that I set for myself. I've found a sense of independence in my not needing God, because I have my own strength to rely on.
So now some might say, 'What's the big deal? Hard work is the American way'. But I know I am convicted. When I reflect on this I see that there was a place inside of me where I said, 'I will never have to rely on anyone else. I will prove to everyone that I am competant and able'. At the core of my soul is the acclamation that 'I will never again be humiliated and not only will I never be humiliated-- I will prove that I am worthy of goodness'. And 'anyone and everyone' was inclusive of God. My reliability on 'self' is my exclusion of God.
So why now? Why ponder these questions now? My strategy has seemed to work. I guess it is because I've found I can't continue at this pace. But most of all, I've found that I don't want to live in isolation. My fight with silence is my fight with God. I am struggling to keep him at arms length for fear he may really see what I've been desperately trying to keep from everyone: That I am weak. I am in need of grace. In my pride, I don't need a Savior. In my pride, I can save myself. Yet, he calls me to be quiet. For it is there where he longs to find me. It is there where he wants to find us all. It is there where he can reach us, speak to us and commune with us.
Yesterday in church we read Psalm 62... In the end the psalmist says, 'One thing has been said. Two things I have heard. One that God is strong and two that the Lord is loving (DeAnza's translation)'. There it is... Hope. So when will I rest in God's strength? When will I allow him to love me?
Quiet: My confessions
A while back I was reading a book about Cambodia and the torture that many Cambodians faced in the years of the Khemer Rouge. A story in that book that particularly struck me was about a buddhist monk. During the time of the Khemer Rouge many men and women were killed if they were educated, if they were monks and if they were related to anyone that was affluent in education or resources. So the survival of this female monk is a miracle. Many Cambodians found that their only hope of survival was to lie about their background. She, on the other hand, felt that her only refuge was to keep her faith. She continued to dress in monk attire, practice meditation and be honest about who she was. Of course, there is a story as to how she came to be a monk... but what is most striking about her story is that she was unwilling to trade her spiritual survival for physical survival. In all the chaos, in all the tragedy, in all the insanity of her time she survived by clinging to her passion.
As I reflect on this story, I can't remember a time in my life where I have ever had to cling to my faith for survival. I can't remember a time where it is my faith that I had to rely on in order to survive. Each day is a choice: I believe or I don't believe. So often that process is done on my whim. And in my contemplation I realize that a central theme of her story that is lacking in mine is quiet. Both the need for it and the search for it. When I was in seminary I participated in a class on spirituality. One of our assignments was to spend a day (as a class) at a monastary and there was no speaking allowed. It was entitled, 'A day of silence'. I found that the first two hours I was cool. I journaled. I read. I journaled some more. I wrote poetry. And then I couldn't handle it anymore. My class mates were sitting in different areas and the temptation would rise in me to start up a conversation. So I would move to a more isolated area of the monastary and what I found was that I could quiet myself physically, but I could not quiet myself spiritually, emotionally or mentally. I literally felt my life screaming. This remains true today. And i've realized that it is in the quiet where I must rely on God the most. There is no place to hide in the quiet. There is no place to go in the quiet. There is nothing to do in the quiet. There is only me and him.
Most might say, 'Who cares. Why worry yourself over this kind of ineptness?'. But I think why it disturbes me the most is because I know that in the chaos of my life I've created a sort of self-reliance. You see, I know I can do just about anything I put my mind to. When I was an undergrad I decided well I'm not just going to get a Bachelor of Arts... I'll get a Bachelor of Science. I won't stop there I'll get myself a Masters. Oh and while getting a Masters I can work 50 hours a week managing a cafe. I'll change lives and get a job at Friends of Youth and counsel pregnant young women. I can direct a community center... And the list never ends. My conviction is that I've found a sense of pride in my ability to take on any feat. I've found a comfort in my ability to tackle any goal that I set for myself. I've found a sense of independence in my not needing God, because I have my own strength to rely on.
So now some might say, 'What's the big deal? Hard work is the American way'. But I know I am convicted. When I reflect on this I see that there was a place inside of me where I said, 'I will never have to rely on anyone else. I will prove to everyone that I am competant and able'. At the core of my soul is the acclamation that 'I will never again be humiliated and not only will I never be humiliated-- I will prove that I am worthy of goodness'. And 'anyone and everyone' was inclusive of God. My reliability on 'self' is my exclusion of God.
So why now? Why ponder these questions now? My strategy has seemed to work. I guess it is because I've found I can't continue at this pace. But most of all, I've found that I don't want to live in isolation. My fight with silence is my fight with God. I am struggling to keep him at arms length for fear he may really see what I've been desperately trying to keep from everyone: That I am weak. I am in need of grace. In my pride, I don't need a Savior. In my pride, I can save myself. Yet, he calls me to be quiet. For it is there where he longs to find me. It is there where he wants to find us all. It is there where he can reach us, speak to us and commune with us.
Yesterday in church we read Psalm 62... In the end the psalmist says, 'One thing has been said. Two things I have heard. One that God is strong and two that the Lord is loving (DeAnza's translation)'. There it is... Hope. So when will I rest in God's strength? When will I allow him to love me?
Monday, July 07, 2003
Transitions
Two weeks ago I found out that I was pregnant. I never realized how quickly and drastically life changes until I saw those two little lines appear on my EPT test. My life feels like it has been turned on its head. My choices no longer just effect me-- they effect a small baby inside of me, too. The irony of this change of events is that Frank and I had discussed the possibility of NEVER having children just weeks prior to this surprise. Yet, life turns and here I am-- pregnant.
For weeks I have been so scared with my 'new' reality. I am going to be a mother. I am going to be responsible for someone other than myself. After this discovery the first few days I tossed and turned at night and then I realized that I was afraid of making all the mistakes I fear to make-- the mistakes that i've been pointing out in my own parents for years. All my complaints, all my whinings could be echoed by this little one about me... How selfish-- how immature to think about my pride when there is someone who will need my care... And I've realized that I must become less.
My prayer is that in these next seven months that God would prepare my heart to be more than I dreamed. I pray that I will seek wisdom in each decision that I make. I pray that I would have grace and also allow myself room to fail-- always ready to repent.
Two weeks ago I found out that I was pregnant. I never realized how quickly and drastically life changes until I saw those two little lines appear on my EPT test. My life feels like it has been turned on its head. My choices no longer just effect me-- they effect a small baby inside of me, too. The irony of this change of events is that Frank and I had discussed the possibility of NEVER having children just weeks prior to this surprise. Yet, life turns and here I am-- pregnant.
For weeks I have been so scared with my 'new' reality. I am going to be a mother. I am going to be responsible for someone other than myself. After this discovery the first few days I tossed and turned at night and then I realized that I was afraid of making all the mistakes I fear to make-- the mistakes that i've been pointing out in my own parents for years. All my complaints, all my whinings could be echoed by this little one about me... How selfish-- how immature to think about my pride when there is someone who will need my care... And I've realized that I must become less.
My prayer is that in these next seven months that God would prepare my heart to be more than I dreamed. I pray that I will seek wisdom in each decision that I make. I pray that I would have grace and also allow myself room to fail-- always ready to repent.
Thursday, June 26, 2003
I've been so busy lately I haven't been able to blog. This week has been a strange week. Many exciting and painful events have happened this week in the lives of those in my community. I'm not sure how to process each... I guess I should start by saying, "I'm overwhelmed". And I am learning to stay 'present' to do both: to weep with those who mourn and to rejoice with those who rejoice. Finding balance between both.
I am overwhelmed with God's faithfulness, in light of our waivering trust in Him. This week has been a restless week for me... i've been tossing and turning with so much joy and so much grief... I've grieved lives leaving and rejoiced in new lives beginning and in each I've felt a deep sense of God's presence. This reassures me that God is good... to make himself alive in all circumstances. I'm reminded that I must keep my eyes open-- ready for each new surprise. I must keep moving forward in anticipation that God's strength and comfort will envelop me.
I love Isaiah. The theme of Isaiah is: to remember. (Isaiah 46:8-11)
"Remember this, fix it in mind,
take it to heart, you rebels.
Remember the former things, those of long ago;
I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me.
I make known the end from the beginning,
from ancient times, what is still to come.
I say: My purpose will stand,
and I will do all that I please.
We must remember the past in order to rejoice in God's presence. Remember the past in order to be reminded of where God has brought us from. I am in awe. I pray to remember... that I may be humbled.
I am overwhelmed with God's faithfulness, in light of our waivering trust in Him. This week has been a restless week for me... i've been tossing and turning with so much joy and so much grief... I've grieved lives leaving and rejoiced in new lives beginning and in each I've felt a deep sense of God's presence. This reassures me that God is good... to make himself alive in all circumstances. I'm reminded that I must keep my eyes open-- ready for each new surprise. I must keep moving forward in anticipation that God's strength and comfort will envelop me.
I love Isaiah. The theme of Isaiah is: to remember. (Isaiah 46:8-11)
"Remember this, fix it in mind,
take it to heart, you rebels.
Remember the former things, those of long ago;
I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me.
I make known the end from the beginning,
from ancient times, what is still to come.
I say: My purpose will stand,
and I will do all that I please.
We must remember the past in order to rejoice in God's presence. Remember the past in order to be reminded of where God has brought us from. I am in awe. I pray to remember... that I may be humbled.
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