Awaiting the Baby

(This post was written December 10, 2011, I have backdated the posting date)

Eagerly, patiently, we await a baby. Honoring, we celebrate the Baby. What a magnificent time to be swollen with anticipation. Advent, the season of reflection as we await the birth of the Christ child. God made flesh. God, grown in the womb of an unwed mother, gaining life from her breast. What an unlikely story this is. An unlikely way to redeem a broken world.

Here, within the same year as laying down our firstborn, we carry our second, thankful most of all for Mary’s firstborn. Life with Christ living within us is everything our hearts are made for. Peace, joy, goodwill.  The seasonal songs have always recalled these themes, but the familiarity has oft rendered them unheard, even amidst the loudest of chorus.  “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men.” “Joy to the world.” What of these words, these now cultural clichés that ring throughout shopping malls as the season becomes about bustling streets rather than a bursting womb.  Odd, because from that womb birthed Peace, Joy. The antithesis of what most experience this time of year.

This season seems to incur stress, impatience, frustration. Is it just me or are many angrier folks on the road, and less likely people to look you in the eye as they try to beat you to be the next in line at the store.  Gift-giving is wonderful and can be a joyful endeavor. I don’t judge or offer alternatives of cloistering away and despising all around us. But what of the Baby, what of Peace, Joy?

As we anticipate the Baby, celebrating the birth that offers us all new birth I am acutely aware of longing this year. Not for the books I want (thought I do J ) or the blender I of which daydream (neurotically so), but for the longing of all the Baby offers us. Remembering, entering into the remembrance of the first Advent of Christ is to remind us, partially, of the second Advent of Christ. For those of us who have put Christ as Lord, believing He is at work setting all things right, making all things new, we await the fulfillment of that. Don’t we?

I am confronted, in this season, by how our challenges can lead us toward the Baby, the Christ, whose coming is to make all things new.  The strained family relationships, the broken ways I relate to those I love so much, the death of ones dearly loved that is remembered during this time, the death of those lost too soon, the injustice of children starving, civilians dying, unjust rulers.  Some sickening, others saddening. All broken by sin.

What do you long to be made new?

I don’t suggest that Christ is coming to us for a to-do list that he can check off like a celestial Santa Claus, but what if some of our deepest longings matched His? Culturally, God is often passé, or at best well-meaning but out of touch.  “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men” the angels sang that night of his birth.  The depths of this meaning we could watch unfold our whole life.  “Joy to the world.” Maybe he knows more than we think. What prayers can we offer him this season, what relationship to be healed, what wounds to bind up, what comfort to the mourning?  Out of touch would not be my first thought of our God. But deeply in touch with our pains…so much so he comes. He lives with us. He cries with us. He brings good news. He dies to rise again. And we await his second advent.  For now we live in the tension of his first advent and his second.  

My deepest pray is that this Baby brings to you all the peace and joy for which your soul longs this season. 

Big Life

As of late I have been considering why the life and death of our son was a doorway to such things that could seem, at first step, antithetical to such an experience. Healing, joy, gratitude…things like that. Seems like the wrong doorway to those types of things.  I have been asked, at random, why this wasn’t the straw on that overburdened camel that finally broke me after years of difficulty.  Legitimate question. My answer, until now, has been a simple one: God. The presence of whom transforms and fills, tirelessly loving His own.  God is real, He is not my “faith”, as in my “faith” gets me through tough times. My faith is in Him; He is alive. Real.  The Someone who journeys with me, ahead of me, in joy and in devastation. I get to share it all with God, or maybe God shares it all with me.                                                                                                     

But my answer has just been God. God helped me in this time. True. God brought healing to my bleeding soul. True. God gave me peace that Jonan lived the life he was called to live. True. All true.  But me, Kimberly who pondered why God gave us two hands at 4 yrs old, you know, instead of just one hand. (I determined one day after a visit to the bathroom it was so we could wash them, in case you were wondering as well.) That Kimberly wants to know why. Why, 8 months later, is the realness of the healing, the joy still alive and deep? Why? If you have read much of my writings you know that while I love to ponder and understand, I am also at home with mystery. The works of God will always be mysterious on some level, I am certain, so delving deeper this one I will either find more of God, or I remain in just as much wonder.  Well, by all means then, let’s forge ahead!

I am writing in the center of this revelation, not fully formed theology…yet…And these thoughts are of no instigation of my own. I am reading again this morn the book “One Thousand Gifts” and receiving from the author’s sustenance. Her thoughts strike me deep this morning, so I write.

“All wonder and worship can only grow out of smallness”.

Eek. Smallness. Not a culturally-esteemed word. Smallness. Become less, don’t think of yourself more highly than you ought. Humble yourself and the Lord will life you up. Oh, she writes “don’t I often desperately want to wriggle free of the confines of a small life?”  Yes. That’s my answer. I want to be loved and known for great things. Great creativity, great love, great thoughts, great writing (a-hem). Eek. Smallness? Confession: for years I have hated that word, despised the teachers who have taught of Christ becoming small so we could be healed, have salvation, be with Him. I love that Christ did that, for it changes my life constantly, but I don’t know why we have to focus on the smallness of it…is that really essential? Can’t we talk about how powerful He is and how He has defeated death and sin? Yeah, let’s talk about that. Not smallness, that makes me uncomfortable.

About ten years ago I was reading from John 13 of Christ as He kneeled and washed the feet of those who would betray and lie and clamor for position and as I entered into the story of Christ becoming small I had a significant epiphany: smallness does not equal meaningless, purposeless, uselessness. Smallness, akin to humility, is simply true estimate of oneself.

What does smallness offer when I look at the Milky Way smattered across an unending cosmos? What does smallness create within when I feel my daughter’s hiccups in my swell? What of smallness when we are rendered still, hemmed in by feet of white powder on a January day? Awe. Smallness ushers in awe. And “awe ignites joy because it makes us bend the knee”…

“All wonder and worship can only grow out of smallness.”

These moments remind me of my true place, my small place in the cosmos. Not insignificant, not useless, not meaningless, just small. And small ushers in joy. Like children are small, they do seem to ignite joy more than those of us big. We wonder at children’s joy and their love for life, for us. They are small, yet to know big. We know big, and we clamor for bigger. Joy disappeared. We demand, expect, claim our rights, sue, hate, rage, take, despise. I do as if I have a hand-written invitation. But, author writes “is it only when our lives are emptied that we’re surprised by how truly full our lives were?” Is it? When we lose something dear to us, perspective changes.  View of smallness enters, joy ushers forth. Maybe that’s why St. Peter wrote in the 5^th chapter of this first book, “Humble yourselves before God.”  Humility, seeing rightly, seeing who we truly are, that opens the doors for God’s gifts.

“And what humbles like and extravagant gift?” my author continues.

What? What can humble like that? For each of us to answer. So back to my original question: why the healing, joy, gratitude from the life and death of our son? Why so many gifts from one small life? …Maybe the increased capacity for smallness it created in us. The smallness that ushers joy. The reality, again, that God is God. Though I would clamor for control and bigness…in all the earth it would offer me the same as it offers our narcissistic world…emaciation of soul.

Accepting that within my rightful place of humility before Him I am offered great gifts directly from the Big Himself. God. And so through Jonan we were yet placed small in our world. Not in control, chosen to be humbled, and choosing humility. Big offered joy and healing to small. God, who loves and offers to all who humble themselves: Big Life.

So as I began at the beginning, the simple answer is God, the rest of the answer is the smallness it created. The short story would go something like this: Big used small life to create Big Life in those who thought too big of their life. Big graced the thought-too-big-of-their-life with small life to show them what Big really is. And they learned they were small, too. Big now brings Joy and Healing as they live their small life within true life. Big Life.

The Ghost of Grace

I feel conviction this morning as I read the book I am enjoying (One Thousand Gifts). As I consider my life I don’t feel full of grace. I feel I am missing my call here at home. I have, at times, repelled my call here at home…confused by the many voices, within-without, of what the “role” should be. So I’ve neglected role altogether for some bastardized version of freedom. Agenderized myself for the illusion of something greater. Deeper than work or home, education or educating. It’s calling I consider. Calling. What is my call and how am I living it…or not?

Today I am keenly aware of my ability to make grace a ghost in my marriage. Interacting more heinously than the offense for which I feel so dignified in condemning.  First things first: Where has been my own encounter with Grace? Why the closed Bible so many days? Why the closed heart? The pursed lips?

I have a hunch why I miss my call at home and grace becomes a ghost: I wait for another. My life contingent on someone else to go first. If I am to seek God, to know Him, I must act regardless of my perception of another. God at work within me is revealed in my simple desire to even know Him; He has clearly gone first. Is there any other impetus I need to “Grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ”?

So I must act if I am to call Grace to life in my home.  As I decipher my call as wife and mother, this certainly is part. I don’t have to wear a “role” in order to accept a call. To live grace as a wife in my home will look specific to my own home. But if I neglect it and say, “but he…” I am still responsible for bringing death where I was called to bring life. If I am to invite life into my home, my marriage, my womb I must make space. New life cannot come without making space. And without grace, no space for life can be.  Mostly true within my soul, which is where life within my home must begin. For I am called to be a life-giver, my expanding anatomy reminds me of such a call.  There are no days I look to my husband and wonder why he is not bearing this child in my stead, there should be no day I look to him and expect him to live the call I feel in my own heart.   

So, my prayer today:

Lord, help me redeem the word “role” that my culture has bastardized and lied to me about.

Help me joyfully accept my call from You, that Grace may walk these halls. Alive.

And, Lord, place blinders on my eyes that I may see only One, and thereby truly see.

Amen.

Space Invaders: thoughts on continuing motherhood

It was just weeks after Jonan died. I called a friend who lost a baby too soon many years earlier. I was lying on my bed crying telling her I am not sure I can have another. I mean, I want to. But what if I get weird. Like, I love Jonan more? Or I have a new baby inside of my womb and I feel ambivalent about its existence...another should be in your place. You are a space invader! What if I only can love one child? What if I get stuck like some people do when someone dies? When they just cannot move on and they only think about that person and just sort of get…weird.  I felt in myself the capacity for weird at that particular moment. I mean, it would be easy to romanticize this child. He never cried all night, blew out the third diaper in one day, spilled something again, talked back to me, came home late…and he never will. He will always be my sweet little Jonan who went straight into the presence of God. Only knowing Love. That is just the reality of it.

My dear friend, being the wise woman that she truly is, assured me that I was not on the path to weird. She did assure me, however, that should I find myself on that path, that there are people in my life who would love me enough to let me know…she being one of them. Thank God for those who will truly love us! She said, if how we are walking through our grief and pain with openness and trust in the Lord is any indication of what is to come…we will heal. I will heal. I will move, appropriately, forward in my life and in my love.

I couldn’t see this place of “forward” at that moment, but the shallow breathes did became deeper as my crying waned and I leaned into her faith in me.

During those long, dark days of winter, it felt like unending months before the cycle of life would begin anew in my broken body. In reality we were pregnant again in just 7 weeks. Cleared by the doctor to “try” again, we chose to move forward. I took the test on my own, without Jeff even knowing. I don’t know why. I just needed to be alone with God this go ‘round. I had taken numerous negative tests to prove to myself that should it ever turn pink after  I wetted that stick that it was in fact a true positive. I was not up for games or false hopes. And even knowing the empty stick would reveal what I already knew during those trial negatives, it still reminded me of death each obsessive time until I blessed with those 2 precious pink lines.

But that was my moment of truth. Two pink lines. Would I just vomit because of my nerves? Would I be angry? Resentful? …Joyful? Weird? What was in there? Honestly, I was not certain. I knew how much we prayed for two lines, but sometimes we are a mystery unto ourselves, known only by God fully. And many times I had given myself over to Him again and again. “Lord, search me, know me. See if there be any offensive way in me…leading me to life everlasting.” It is easy to think we know ourselves, and I think we can grow greatly in this, but there will always be places of mystery in our own souls…and I truly didn’t know how I would respond. The rivers of my brokenness, though healing, were deep. Known by God alone. Trusted to Him alone.

I waited the recommended 2 minutes for a line to appear (or not) and there it was. Two lines, that test line was one very faint line, but I knew a “line was a line” as my google searches has assured me.  And then what, you may be wondering?

Joy! Overwhelming non-weird joy! “I have two precious babies” was my actual first conscious thought. Of all, I am so blessed. I sat on that bathroom floor overcome with wonder at a God who knows us and gives us good things. My friend was right, there was room for more. My heart, in all of its mystery, did expand. It had.  For the God who loves me, the husband I love dearly, and the baby I now carry in the same space as the other one I love forever.  What a beautiful mystery.  

You are He

I was reading Psalm 71 the other morning before work and was caught off guard. I wanted to read the entire thing but when I got to verse six I couldn’t budge…I kept reading it over and over:

“Upon you I have leaned from before my birth;
   you are he who took me from my mother’s womb.
My praise is continually of you.”

I know this prayer was written thousands of years before me and Jonan, and clearly this person lived through their birth to write such prayers, but it still stopped me that morning. There is a profound timelessness about Scripture when studied properly. And though I didn’t study this in depth, taking it at face value reading it over and over, it still proved timeless:

“Upon you I have leaned from before my birth;
   you are He who took me from my mother’s womb.
My praise is continually of you.”

For me, that morning, it was as if Jonan wrote that Psalm himself. “Upon you I have leaned from before my birth.”  I remembered all the mornings I was still carrying him when I would read the Psalms to him, and the hunger I had for worship while I carried him. It was so deep. And, as a dear friend reminded me, it was as if Jonan was the one giving me these cravings. Just like I craved orange juice because I needed vitamin C, so I craved worship and God because Jonan desired His presence. As I have oft written, these are mysteries, I know. But they still are.

Continuing on in the verse is the part that hooked me like a baited fish… “you are He who took me from my mother’s womb.”  Strictly speaking, the writer was likely referring to the day of his own birth. But generally speaking, God did take Jonan from his mother’s womb. He took Jonan straight into His arms. It was not that I had never considered this before that is struck me, but the strength it conveys. There are those who, inappropriately, take children from their mother’s womb. But this is different. This verse conveys a strength, a timing, and beauty to the taking. A taking by One who’s wisdom transcends my own. Who’s power brings me fear and comfort. Who’s timing I can ultimately trust. And who’s beauty I have yet seen.  “you are He who took me from my mother’s womb.”  You are He.

Then this little-known verse concludes “My praise is continually of You.”  And isn’t that the truth? Among the many unknown things Jonan is doing right now, the one I am certain of is praise. Praising He who took Him.  And what a great thing that is as I get to join with Jonan and the angels each time I praise that One.

So as I walked along the road today to this coffee shop I am sitting in I felt the breeze and saw all the people enjoying the glorious weather….I thought of Jonan.  He will not know a beautiful day as this one. He will not be here to play with the puppies. Or taste the ice cream.  And, oh, how much I wanted to show him the trains that zoom by countless times each day just feet from our house. In all honesty, the days are getting easier; acceptance (along the stages of grief) is finding rest in the Pelletier Home. But each new season brings new things for me to miss and dreams to allow into the grave. And as I wish this verse made it all go away, it doesn’t.  But what I do have is He who took Jonan. And He who took him, well, then…He must have Him. And in there is peace, trust, and a strange sort of beauty.

You, Lord…You are He. 

Rest

Hello, my life has been full (my happier word for “busy) since we got home from California. I miss my blog, I miss writing, but I am just so darn busy…..excuse me… “full”, and without space to create. But I figuring out how to change that. In fact, I wanted to put a quote I found from Alicia Britt Chole for the blog today. This is really good. Really, really good:

In our culture we view rest as a reward for faithfulness. We plan on resting after the project is complete, after we get that promotion, after that busy season, after we retire, or after...we die?!

However, as I study rest in the bible, it seems that more than a reward for faithfulness, rest is a prerequisite for fruitfulness.

Now some may challenge that and say, "But, in the Creation account, God worked for six days and then rested on the seventh."

True.

But what was God doing before Day One?

Thoughts on Jesus' Journey

So one thing I did on my retreat was to “walk around” inside some Scriptures of Jesus on his way to Jerusalem the week before He would be murdered by the ones He loved most. A fitting exercise for this season of Lent. On recommendation from a mentor of mine I walked around Luke 18:15-17: 

" Now they were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them. And when the disciples saw it, they rebuked them. But Jesus called them to him, saying,  "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.^” Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it."

By walking around it mean something like reading it very slowly. Picturing what it may have been like for each of these people in that culture, time in history, part of the world.  There is a crowd gathered around Jesus, usual for him, people generally couldn’t get enough (his teaching, his transformational conversations, his healing, his grace).  Here Jesus reveals his affection for children. Deep affection. He scolds those who hold them back from him. Like…”Here is this important guy, a Rabbi, someone many people want to meet and see…Can you not bring the kids along and try to get close, please? He has much more important things to do, folks. More important people to talk with. Back away.” Yet, Jesus, in his usual manner of confusing the disciples, rebukes them and says, in effect…”Hey guys, let them come to me. All that I am doing here, it belongs to them, too. In fact, not only does my Kingdom belong to these ones that you want desperately to keep away from me because apparently they are not important enough, but you actually need to become more like them in order to receive my Kingdom.”

This interaction has a poetic-ness to it, but I ask myself…how does a child receive the Kingdom of God? (important note: big different between being childlike and childish, I believe this is a call to childlikeness, not childishness).  Well, for any of us who have spent any time at all with children we certainly know they are not innocent. They would love to take that cookie when you are not looking, among their first words is usually “mine!”, and the list goes on. If it is not innocence...what is it? They more easily give and easily receive. Emotionally and otherwise. It is difficult not to feel loved by a child. And, even the more awkward of souls can give love to a child. There is something more open in their hearts that becomes more beautiful the older I get. They are also much more simply themselves. Unless by unfortunately strong influence, children are themselves more naturally. They do not  need personality and interest tests to tell them who they are. They know, and freely act like it. It is not until this begins to grow out of them as they “mature” that they often lose this freedom in order to conform to some standards of approval. Children love to learn, every opportunity is chance to play and learn something new, and this is natural for them. They are unashamed of dependence, unlike us strong and wise adults who can take care of everything ourselves. Thank you very much. And they are often more joyful.  Innocence is not what Jesus is talking about here. But there are so many other beautiful characteristics that we can seek. And I noticed that Jesus said we must receive the Kingdom like a child. Not that we should seek it like a child, or love it like a child, or understand it like a child, but receive it like a child. So back to my first example, children more easily give and receive. “So, my dear disciples who are trying to keep these little ones away from me, let them come, and learn something beautiful from them. I have much to give, receive it like they do.”

Is my heart open to receiving today? Do I come to God with my answers and plans or am I receiving from Him? When these children came to him, you know what he did, he likely put his hand on them and blessed them. He touched them, maybe gave them a little kiss on the forehead. He blessed them.

Another thing I saw when I walked around in that crowd was that Jesus did not have children of his own. He would never, in fact, have his own biological children. True, he forewent many possessions to gain this Kingdom, so he would not have had a monetary inheritance to pass along, but children were still a legacy, for the men especially in that culture. I had always just thought of Jesus has a single man living his life automatically in the calling he was given by the Father. But as I see Jesus struggling in other parts of Scripture, that he was tempted in every way, it does not seem far-fetched to consider that he loved children and maybe wanted some of his own, but knew his calling on earth was to forego that desire in order to fulfill the will of God.  This was something he likely had to offer to the Father at different times on his journey. And, in having to lay down this desire, he did not shy away from children but welcomed them close to him always. And interestingly, in this instance in Luke 18, Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem, on his way to Palm Sunday, on his way to the Cross…the reason he had to lay himself and his desires down through his whole life. And now, we all can have the inheritance of the Kingdom because his decisions. 

A prayer for home

I decided to exchange the keyboard for the pen these last days.  I enjoy writing my thoughts out longhand. I need to remember this. Thank you for praying for my weekend retreat. The retreat grounds were actually breathtaking. Gardens, mountains (to us Illinoians), statues, a grotto, a stained-glass chapel, winding pathways, and of course the small bedroom with a single bed and a desk.  I will post some pictures in the coming days as I write about my short journey with the Jesuits. But for tonight I want to share a prayer I am wrote in my journal this weekend for our home. Feel free to pray with me for your home if you are so moved:

May our home be full of God

Bursting with Joy

Restful in Peace

Shameless in Truth

May the stories of others rest with us

May the rhythms we create heal us; heal others

May grace bring Freedom

May Mercy bring Gentleness
And Suffering...Hope

You Win

(Pre.Script: I am actually going off the grid tomorrow J I will be entering a silent retreat center for Fri/Sat, so there will be no writing. Please pray for my time. Thank you.)

One of my most treasured things that is coming out of Jonan’s death (and life) is the quieting that has is happening in my heart. I have generally needed for all seasons of my life to be a time for everything. As in literally…all at once. I have had no sense of season so I have often pushed so hard to make things happen & happen all the time; a time for everything versus an actual time for everything…in its own time, but not all the time. Something has slowed in my heart this year. Something permanent. Something that I was certain, if I ever let it go, I would lose myself. I thought if I moved into a way of acceptance and slowness of heart in life I would lose motivation and a sense of God at work; gaining only despair and apathy. So I pushed things forward that should have stayed still.

I feared having children for the way it would change my life…for the ways I would have to slow down and be present to someone so needy of me. What about my graduate studies? What about my career desires? What about our finances? Travel? My desires for ministry? This is the first time in my life I can remember saying something my not happen for a many years…and not choking on those words. If the Lord has these things in mind for me, and some of them I feel He does- particularly the ministry part- I can trust Him.  [I am not using this as an excuse for an apathetic lifestyle, though I could see it how that would be for someone of another temperament, but more as an antidote to my destructive pace of life and faulty perspective.] For the seasons of life do not hinder us from things. Though they may in the superficial sense, but not in the deepest sense. In the place of immobility or physical limitation, of lack of friendship, separation from loved ones, of trauma, of healing, of lack of resources, lack of imagination or opportunity, maybe someone needs our special love & focus for a time…these things do not hinder the work of God, they are where God is at work.

The years of pushing forward into places I simply didn’t have resource to fulfill left me empty and worn out. From 23 to 28 years old I went through extensive medical testing three separate times to determine what was wrong with me because of some chronic symptoms. Each time the doctor would say the same thing…all the tests are clear, Kimberly, you are likely very stressed. I remember hearing this for the first time thinking… “I am only 23 years old, that can’t be!”

But it was. And for years I suffered until things became so bad I had to take a leave of absence from work and go through extensive counseling to deal with the deep things within my heart that kept me busy and pushing to make right now a “time for everything.”  That was only 3 years ago.

Since that time I have had a series of challenges vocationally, relationally, financially, and personally. It truly has not let up. This time it has not been because of poor choices and lack of wisdom as it was before, but simply things out of my control. God has, piece by piece, disassembled my life. Today as I sit and write I see maybe some of what this constant change in my plans has produced. I have a desire to live in each season in its time. I don’t want to cram 4 (or 14) seasons of life into one because I am afraid I am not living up to Someone’s idea of who I should be. And by accepting where I am and what life is right now I have not lost my energy or turned apathetic as I had feared. In fact, life seems so much more exciting. I want to engage it in ways unprecedented by me, and I feel energy to do so. But not to prove something about myself, but to be myself. All I proved about myself before was my lack of wisdom and that I had kept life full to fill up the places of insecurity.

The serenity prayer has really become my prayer. I am finding this really helps with envy as well. I have realized recently I have lived long with envy. It is easy to come by in the suburbs if you are looking for someone to envy. Money, beauty, indulgence: it’s everywhere. But trusting, I mean deeply trusting, that I am where I need to be right now, that God is with me, that He will direct me, that He has made me, and that I am in the right season of life is a powerful antidote. God says I am loved and that He guides my life. I don’t need to have the external beauty, the houses of Wheaton, the children now (by my age) that others have, the degree, the career path. I have been in a season of getting worked over by God in my soul for a few years now, and honestly I just haven’t had the energy/ability to attain all those things. Healing your soul takes energy. Healing a relationship takes energy. Will I ever attain any of those things? Probably, Lord willing, in some form. But I truly love where I am.  

So, God…you win. You are right. You are good. You have the strength to bring me low or raise me up. And I would do well to lean into You for all things. You give and You take away. And it’s Yours to do so. As I look around my life right now I see I am given a husband to love and grow with, a home to help him take care of, friendships to nourish, two jobs within which to serve the greater good, a church to where I can worship and offer my skills, pains - both local & distant – for which to pray, and hopes to trust You with. Here is my season.

With Solomon I see also that “there is nothing better than that a [wo]man should rejoice in [her] work…” Ecclesiastes 3:22. This culture lies to me saying I can have it all…I cannot. And I lose myself as I try. Yet here I gain myself as I trust the ways You have walked out before me. Those things I still long for in career & family, ministry & friendship. I will still be hopeful and discipline myself for what is to come, knowing that You, Lord, will make "everything beautiful in its time.” Ecclesiastes 3:11.

The Plan Was

The title of this post is my life anthem. I am certain. Always a plan with me. I love plans and thinking about plans. I even plan times for planning. It’s one of my favorite four letter words; I won’t share my others. And planning is a good thing. I plan meals and save money (mostly), I plan to pay bills (a necessary thing), I plan time to clean the house, I plan out my work schedule, I make plans to see friends and family; planning is good. But so often the word “was” finds its way into my plan. "Well, the plan was…" That is when I get irritated. The first two words would suffice as a life anthem, “The Plan”. That third creepy words does just that…creeps. Generally when I least expect it in an area of my life I would not imagine it wiggles its way into the hours of my life and changes everything. The plan was to finish graduate school, the plan was to get a job, the plan was to pay off that debt, the plan was to pray, the plan was to connect with my friend, the plan was to have a baby...

Today, the plan was to have a prayer retreat.

This plan was foiled only by me. Maybe God was involved as well, I don’t know for certain.  Today I felt a bit squirrely.  I couldn’t jump into a full-fledged prayer retreat from such busyness. And though most of the journeys I have into stillness and solitude do not afford much transition time, this time I have days to slow down, so I am taking it.  I threw off the guilty feeling of “doing it wrong” earlier than usual as was able to just let myself be. A spiritual practice in and of itself. Perfectionism is not the prettiest side of anyone unfortunate enough to carry its sickness. Myself included. Coincidentally, this past weekend the Sunday School teaching was about prayer, and specifically prayer retreats. Karen, our teacher for the morning and a fellow hyper-planner, said a wonderful thing that aided in setting me free to foil today’s plan, “The goal is not to make good use of our time, but to create space where God can meet us.” 

So, I began today be reading about St. Therese de Lisieaux. She was a nun who lived in France during the 1800s. She was particularly bent toward God; she became a Carmelite Sister when she was only 14 years old. Quite amazing. She died of an illnessat the age of 23 and has yet beautiful, deep writings on the spiritual life. I was reading her book on prayer. It was good stuff, but I wasn’t slowed down enough to be present to it. And I was very, very tired. I decided to eat a small breakfast and head to a yoga class near the town. I bought a three pack of classes to enjoy this for the week.

After an hour and a half of yoga in a small, beach shack-like building right along the coast I went to the local organic food store and picked up some snacks. But first I got myself a celery, carrot, parsley, kale, and spinach drink. (Those of you who know me well just said, Yep…that’s Kimberly…gross J).  I even saw one of the older men there from the yoga class and said hi. I felt like a local.

After this I went back to the hotel to make a protein shake and shower. After showering and before my nap time I got online to see if there were any retreat centers nearby. It was becoming clear to me that I was likely not going to be able to pray in this setting and have the retreat I was looking for. I need a space set apart for stillness and solitude.  There are so many things calling my name here that though I will be able to slow down, I feel I will constantly be distracted, or worse…completely uninspired by the room I am supposed to sit in all day and within which I am to have my retreat. Thankfully, I found a Jesuit Retreat Center just 22 miles away and they have space for me from Friday to Saturday! They are trying to get me a spiritual director for the two days. 

That came together wonderfully so I laid down for a nap. This deep and wonderful nap was unfortunately interrupted by a banging on my door at 3:00 in the afternoon followed by “housekeeping”.  Grr, I didn’t put the sign up. I got up to get some fresh towels with every intention of going back to sleep. But that didn’t happen. I saw the sun had come out so I got up and got ready and headed into town.

I spend the next hours looking around the shops and thoroughly enjoying myself. I even had a hot cross bun which was apparently a famous recipe according to the marker-on-cardboard sign in the front window. After this I went to find some mysterious antique store which never was found, but on my way I had the most interesting of experiences.  Sitting at a stoplight on coastal highway 1, I saw three women walking their dogs. They were walking across the crosswalk when all of a sudden I realized, there was only one dog…the other two women were walking sheep on their leashes. Yes, full grown, not recently shorn…sheep. One (of the sheep) did this little kick-up-off-the-curb-and-jump-up-t0-give-us-a-little-show-type-move. It was quite funny and so incredibly random. Mind you, we were in an area populated enough and with enough traffic to have a crosswalk…and they were walking sheep.  I must be in California.

Since I never found the antique shop I decided to walk along the windy, rocky coast and watch the storm blow in. What a great place to connect with God.  I watched the little birds play with the waves. As the waves would recede the birds would scurry down to eat whatever it was they were eating out of the sand. Then the foamy waters would roll in again and they would all chirp and scurry back so as not to be taken by the wave. The waters would recede and the birds would go eat in the sand until the next foamy waved arrived. I watched this little wave-dance go on endlessly while wondering if they suffered from short-term memory loss.  

Standing along these shores I was able to pray. I prayed for various things in and out of simply enjoying the grandeur and power of the landscape.  I was reminded of those suffering just across those waters in Japan…Lord, have mercy. Then I recited a little poem I wrote earlier that day:

                                The roar of the ocean

                                                The expanse of the sea;

                                Yet You, Holy One,

                                                Choose to dwell within me.

So, it’s a little rhyme-y and short, but it helped me connect with God.

Then I headed to Peet’s Coffee & Tea for the evening to read a book on writing by Anne Lamott called Bird by Bird. I happen to enjoy this writing thing and want to do more of it. Her book is great fun to read. I was joined by a woman named Molly. All the tables were full so we shared. Interestingly, as I was reading about writing she was actually writing a novel. Even when the place cleared out we still shared the table and chatted here and there. It was a nice time.

I came back to the hotel tonight to begin writing and meet up with Jeff and the other guys for a late dinner at the local diner. And that was pretty much my day. It wasn’t plan A, but it wasn’t really a plan B either; I suppose it wasn’t a plan at all. But it was great and I enjoyed God throughout the day so much.  So, I end with one of my favorite quotes so far from the book I am reading:

“I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren’t even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have more fun while they are doing it.”

Goodnight J

On our way

(I wrote this Tuesday morning before boarding a plane. I thought I would have time to post….oops. I hope to write more this week as I am pseudo off-the-grid of life J)

At O’Hare airport here, on a rainy Chicago morning.  Thankfully no flights are delayed or cancelled. We are finally on our way to Half Moon Bay, CA. I have worked so much this last week and feel exhausted like I have not been since Jonan was born. My goal has been to get a bunch of work done so I could go with Jeff on his work trip. Basically, I am getting a mini-vacation for free. The catch is I am alone for a majority of the time. The good news about that is that I am about ½ introvert and ½ extrovert…and my introvert is ready for some good time alone. My plan is to have a prayer retreat.  I have with me a book on prayer, a Bible, journal, and a publication called Weavings, on the Christian spiritual life. I have all of the year 2007’s publications. I also intend to walk on (rainy) beach, see the Redwoods, and find some place to do both yoga and some form of art.  If I was not writing this myself I would be coveting someone else’s coming days J

I have a rhythm of going on this type of retreat once a year for 2 or 3 days. I don’t usually get to do this near a beach, however. Last year was the first time in 7 years I missed my retreat; there was a lot of transition and I just never made the time between moving twice, graduate school, changing jobs, and getting pregnant. I noticeably missed it. My heart knows when it gets going too quickly...it has a difficult time slowing itself again.  The quiet center of my life gets crowded with unwelcomed visitors.The inertia of life’s movement takes over and I am not as able to connect with God, my community, and myself. After our lives came to a screeching halt with our January news, my heart slowed down significantly. But I generally have to get away to reach that place. And I am getting away…

A Time for Everything

(I have been wanting to write this week, but alas there has just been no time…ironically. So I offer tonight that which I have been meditating on as of late.) 

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; 

A time to kill, and a time to heal;

A time to break down, and a time to build up; 

A time to weep, and a time to laugh;

A time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; 

A time to seek, and a time to lose;

A time to keep, and a time to cast away; 

A time to tear, and a time to sew;

A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 

A time to love, and a time to hate;

A time for war, and a time for peace.

                                                                          Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Poetry & Prose

I lay in bed last night playing over and over in my head a conversation that never happened. Certainly for the better it has not existed. This conversation is the place where I rehearse all the crappy things that have happened in my life in the past 3 ½ years with an attitude of both arrogance and pity. Its pretty ugly.  To be fair to myself, it has been an unusually long string of difficulty, mostly out of my control. The nature of some of it is quite personal and we have not chosen to share them publicly, though in smaller conversations we are open about them.

When I play the scenario in my head I say it with a mellow-dramatic tone to cause others to feel bad for being so naïve to my story and hardship. As if to imply “yeah, see, these past 3 ½ years really have been quite unusual, now don’t you feel like a jerk for saying something so trite.” Like I said…ugly.  It’s really stupid. And I feel embarrassed even in front of myself for the attention-seeking attitude I can have in these imaginary conversations.

This morning as I am praying I am reading about Jesus pleading to God to take away his suffering. I am also reading Solomon’s writing in Ecclesiastes about the vapor-like quality of our relatively short lives. One the one hand I have an account of suffering that slows life down to each meaningful minute of prayer and sweaty tears; and on the other hand I have this view of life from the end looking back and calling it quick and almost meaningless. So much variety in the Scriptures.

Somehow in all this poetry & prose I realize I have a great desire for my suffering to be redemptive. I don’t want to the pain to be lost and jammed somewhere in my soul that keeps me having imaginary conversations so people know just how unfortunate life has been for me (though I would argue it has ultimately not been!). I see there has been much redemption in our journey with Jonan. We have been deeply changed, and others have shared their own change with us as well. That feels redemptive. And most importantly, redemption honors God. But there are other pains that haunt me as well. Pains that have been in my life because of really bad decisions others have made, some directly against me; pains that are because of my own really be decisions; and some just because we live in a broken world (like losing Jonan).

I am thinking today that the only antidote to my imaginary, full-of-myself conversations is to bring my places of pain and suffering to God in prayer. One by one. To go from these imaginary conversations to a conversation with the truest Reality of the world. I need to come clean from my arrogance, and at time, pity. There is something inside me that does not feel at peace with the redemptive part of those places of suffering, they simply feel like suffering. Yes, there has been much healing in these various places, but something in me desires these places of pain to be opened up and used to the glory of God even more so. As I have written before, there is no great fulfillment or calling in life than to know God and bring Him honor.

As I pray today through my list of suffering that I actually wrote out, I am praying you all could do the same, those of you who have known deep pain. That the greatest glory that could be to God for our suffering would come about. Whether the pain is a day old or 30 years old. I pray for greater redemption. That all God desires from our pain could be accomplished (not that He caused it, but He can certainly heal it and redeem it).

I don’t know how these prayers will be answered- maybe my heart becomes softer and more compassionate, maybe I can pray differently for others in their pain, maybe I get to walk alongside someone else in a similar suffering, maybe things I haven’t even thought of. I don’t know yet. But I do hope that as I have real conversations with God and ask Him to use my suffering redemptively; I will be more focused on Him and less on my own self-absorbed fake conversations. I pray there to receive the affirmation I (and maybe you) need; so that my imaginary friends don’t have to give false pity and keep redemption from entering.

I pray the strength for us to give to God our sufferings, one by one in prayer, and to ask Him to use them for His glory.