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. 

Dust

Ash Wednesday is a day I have been looking forward to for a while now. Since becoming an Anglican and following the church calendar I have found anticipation grows in me for days which I would have passed over without knowing millions were observing. 

My first Ash Wednesday service, just last year, was almost magical. We showed up at the 7am service for the early birds who needed to go to work. Following the ancient liturgy we begin with a silent processional. Our priests, deacons, and the altar now draped in purple for the Lenten season. My senses engaged. We read Scriptures, hear a message, and participate in the Eucharist like any other service, but this one we have the imposition of ashes on our forehead.  Before the Great Litany we line up before about 6 different ministers giving the ashes. One by one each person steps up to a minister. The ashes, which are burned palms leaves from last year’s Palm Sunday celebration, are made into a cross on the forehead of each person while the minister says “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19). “Repent and believe the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). 

I tend to sit up front because I like to see everything, so like last year, today I was one of the first to receive the imposition of ashes. Walking back to my seat I sit down and hear only the sound of feet walking and the whispers of every minister “Remember that you are dust…and to dust you shall return”.  A reminder I have not so soon needed.  Young and old alike receive the imposition. I watched a baby receive the ashes as warm, unexpected tears rolled down my cheeks.  It’s a sober call…my life is not my own, and neither are the lives around me. All things I have are from God, and to Him all things will return.   

Oh, I remember.

As is my new custom, I have spent my second liturgical year praying about what I shall focus on for this Lenten season. From what would God call me to repent? Where do I need deep transformation in my life right now? I began this last year and the simplicity of the focus didn’t match the power with which it transformed me.  Though it was a season of much confession, prayer, and seeing parts of me for what they truly were. It was a season of refreshing and cleansing. And by Easter Sunday, the power of the resurrection was filling my heart with joy and genuine transformation. I want to find God in each season, but Lent is a special season for me.  I need a time to remember that I am dust and that my sin is lethal. I know that I cannot repeat last year, nor would that do me any good, but I can seek God the same and see what His heart desires this Lenten season. 

In this spirit I have been praying this last week “God, what shall I focus on this year, where do I need to repent in my life?”  [repent simply means to turn around, from what do I need to turn around from and go the other direction? Jealous, rage, envy, unkindness…this list could never end].  I felt the Lord nudging me in a direction that I did not see coming. Something I felt was too simple. I know it is a sinful disposition I can have, but it still felt simple.  Like not too big of a deal. I continued to pray about this issue and ask God if this is really what He wanted me to seek Him about during Lent. I even shared it with Jeff over dinner the other day. Though I was embarrassed as I spoke, it still felt too “simple” of a sin. When I chose to focus on a sin during Lent I also allow God to speak to me about penance in this particular area of my heart. Not penance in the hurt oneself, masochistic sort of way, but in a way of turning (repenting) from the way I have always chosen to do – or not do – something. I turn from one thing and simultaneously turn toward another.  It can be quite powerful.

Well, I settled on my “simple” sin and trusted God that this was Him speaking. Sometime it just feels clear when God speaks and sometimes feel like my best guess. This time it was the latter.  Okay, so jump back now to the service this morning. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return. Repent and believe the Gospel.” I am watching everyone receive the imposition of ashes. I watch the baby receive the ashes. I remember the fragility of life. But now I remember more than just the fragility. I remember that sin=death. I feel the sorrow of death right now. I know that Jonan did not die because of a particular sin of Jeff or I, but because of sin in the world. Sin is brokenness. The Scriptures say death entered the world through sin (Romans 5:12).  Things were perfect back in the day. Remember the whole Adam and Eve thing? Life, freedom, love, all their needs met. Fulfilling relationships, closeness with God. They had it all. Then the lack of trust in God led them to sin, and at that moment death entered the scene. Nothing would be the same. Curses on the earth, on the people, on our work and our relationships. We are experiencing the effects of this now. There is still beauty and life and goodness. But we feel the effects of sin. We would have never known death had there not been sin. We would have never known pain, sorrow, broken relationships, unfulfilled longings, distance from God. Sin sucks. And we have needed a Redeemer for good reason!

So I sat there as these unexpected, warm tears roll down my face watching everyone receive the ashes and think to myself again….”simple” sin? Kimberly, is there such a thing? What kind of theology is that? Are not small jealousies, slight injustices, minor envies, not finding time to love… all destructive? Who is this Liar that tries to tell me that I can have a “simple” sin which are not worth my attention?  Sin is the cause of death, is it not? Sin destroys (relationships, homes, finances, etc.) does it not? Sin keeps us from God, does it not? And as I posted last time, He is the fulfillment of our lives. The only Reality, Clarity, and Giver of all good things. Thankfully He uses sin to bring us toward Himself. But the bottom line is that sin sucks. And it is my enemy even though I justify it effects and whisk away consequences.

Death was never part of the original storyline, but God is the Redeemer of all things. So this Lenten season I pray nothing keeps us from God. And that grace and simplicity fill our lives. Even when there are “big” sins which need confession and repentance and much healing, I pray the grace and simplicity of repentance. May this season remind us of what is truly important as we travel the way to the cross of Christ and eventually toward resurrection. Life used to be all there was, but now death comes before Life. In remembering that I am dust may I find strength to die small deaths each day that I may truly live. For if I die with Christ I have Life in Christ. I am eternal (eilam). 

Man of Sorrows?

(I wrote much of this at home alone the other night this week when I really didn’t want Jeff to be gone for the night. I wanted distraction to fill my life and I the last thing I wanted to do was sit quietly and hear what was in my anxious heart. I am constantly prone to this. It is thorn in my side. So lest any of these writings make you think I rest in this place all the time, know the struggle to remain still constantly pursues me. Thanks be to God for constantly being will to struggle with me.)

Reading Scripture and books by Henri Nouwen do something to my soul. It is good and I feel so thirsty for it. I want more time to be quiet and to be with the Lord. It is like a carving is going on in my soul at these moments. Like I am living into what God wants for me. There is nothing like that experience, that fulfillment. Because of its power and yet opening of my soul, it’s a place I want to stay and leave all at the same time.

There is  a way in which the unchangeable reality of our loss has soothing effect on my soul when I sit quietly in it. There is something in Jonan’s loss that gives me a clarity of sight that I feel I can gain in no other way. Except through loss. When the pain arrives again (and it generally does) it reminds me that the constructs of the world are in vein. They are temporary, and some even false. This loss reminds me that I live by a truer Reality. That I am not, most certainly not, Home yet. I am not hopeless in the broken reality of the world; I have such hope in Christ who has suffered greatly (Isaiah 53)! God the Father worked in Him these sufferings so he, too, would learn obedience (Hebrews5:7-8). Christ had to learn through his sufferings! I find this amazing and strange. It was in that very place of suffering he opened up the door to eternal life for us. True Life.

I think of Christ as knowing it all, as “getting” his calling from the very beginning, but he had to grow as well. He grew physically, socially, spiritually, intellectually. He was sinless, yes, but still had to learn obedience along the way through suffering. He had to grow in clarity through his hardships along the way to the cross. He was called a Man of Sorrows. And I always thought this sounded so boring and lame. So boring, droning, churchy. Bleh.  Someone I would want to shy away from, to not be around. Yet in Scripture we find people flocking to him! Feeling loved by him and knowing grace as they have never experience. One thing I know is that no one wants to be around a boring, droning talking head who uses only religious-speak every day all day. So I highly doubt that was him, particularly since the religious people were not exactly fond of Him. So this Man of Sorrows gig must have meant something else. And in my own sorrow I feel I am on the edge of understanding a sliver of what that means. 

His sufferings gave him clarity of vision. They pushed Him toward deeper vision, toward seeing things (and people) for what they actually were and not what they appeared to be; they pushed Him toward the presence of His Father who would ultimately lead Him to the Cross. He learned through obedience. He was a Man of Sorrows.

I do not have a choice as to whether I would “go through” Jonan’s death or not. I had to go through it. But I can choose how I respond continually to it and to God. I can turn my heart toward God or back to my own control.  I can read the Scripture from Matthew 10:37 when Jesus says “whoever loves a son or a daughter more than me is not worthy of me” and feel angry and that He doesn’t “get it”. Or I can take this within the context of all of Scripture and know that His heart toward me is good. That his wrath toward sin is simultaneous with love for humanity. If He doesn’t hate sin, He cannot love me. Sin destroys me, and He knows this better than anyone. He felt the weight of every sin ever committed as He died on the Cross. He knows the cost of sin and does not want me to bear it. He tells me that I must make Him my center, and no one else. He knows the truest place of Life is within Him and no other. This calling cleanses me and frees me from loving another inordinately. We are called all throughout Scripture to love one another deeply and to care for the orphans, the widows, the lonely. Jesus loved children and rebuked others when they tried to keep children away from Him. He said “let the children come to me!”  He was not too busy or too important. So I know that when He tells me I am not to love another more than Him he is not “out of touch” or just “too spiritual”. He knows how easily it would be for me to get stuck in this place of grief endlessly and to miss Life along the way. Maybe to control other things in my life, or my future children, out of fear of loss. He would never call me to hate my son, or my future children, but He will always call me to love Him more. He knows how important this is, for he had to learn obedience, too. The hard way.

So I sit here and ask what then can my obedience learned through suffering amount to in the Kingdom of God? I don’t know this fully now. But I would miss out on the greatest fulfillment of my life if I did not surrender along this broken road. “He is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep, to gain what he cannot lose” –Jim Elliott (martyred missionary to Ecuador). “For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul?” –Jesus (brutally murdered at the hands of those He loved and came to save).

Why must it be along the road of suffering? I can only say that I am not certain except that Christ as gone ahead of me, followed by many others as they have followed Him. And to take off the burden of constantly trying to avoid all pain in my life and rush to the next “blessing” is such a relief.  For though blessings of finance, children, career, etc. etc. may or may not come in life…my greatest fulfillment is found in the presence of God, and I find him deeply in my pain.

“Whoever finds his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake, will find it” -Jesus

Still. Awake.

Many a night I was found still awake after we received the news.

Then he was born…still. Awake in the arms of the Lord.

My empty womb now bitterly grieves, yet never without its Hope.

For in His presence I am still, awake as never before.

                                                -Kimberly Penrod Pelletier

Bright Strawberry Red

Dreams are curious occurrences. Like mysterious windows that allow us to peer into something we shouldn’t know, yet they all about our own lives. There have been dreams I have had that I am relatively positive had significant meaning. Some that I have spent time journaling and even praying about. Even one that had shook me so much I shared it with my counselor when I was in college. And, yet sometimes they are because of the extra sodium we had at dinner that messes with our electrolyte balance during the night.  I cannot claim to know which is which all the time, but on the rare occurrence a dream does seems meaningful I will sit with it for a while and test it out.  I don’t make life decisions on dreams or believe they are premonitions necessarily, but the weightier ones do seem to give that window into my soul and the deeper things of my psyche within during certain seasons of life.

For example, a couple weeks ago about the time life was slowing down after Jonan’s death and work was picking up, I had a series of four dreams in one night. They each involved airplanes either crash landing, crashes, or flying around upside down and even once without a pilot. Feeling particularly holy that morning I sought a trusted source to figure out what was going on within.  I typed “airplane dreams” into my google search bar. All sorts of things came up. After my quick glance of “discernment”, 0ne “interpretation” caught me (okay, so I do not rely on the internet for my life guidance, for the record, but 4 dreams in a row!...I was  just so darn curious). This site said “Do you feel like you are in a situation where not only are you not in control but there is absolutely nothing you can do to rectify what is occurring? When planes crash there are devastating consequences, not to a singular person but to everyone aboard the plane.”  This pretty much summed up my heart’s feelings quite well that morning: I am so not in control of my life and I can do nothing, of which every morning with an empty womb reminded me, to rectify Jonan’s death. And not only that, so many were grieving with us…affecting “everyone aboard the plane.”  So, that morning google did give me some interesting things to think about.

There is another dream that has come recently that will be with me, literally, forever. I have printed it out and have shared it with a few people. It is not actually a dream I had, but a dream my sister Sarah had months before Jonan died, and was born. She knew I had been having dreams about him since we found out we were pregnant. I loved having dreams about him. Before we knew “it” was a boy, “it” was always a boy in my dreams.  Here is a portion of the email I received the day after Jonan was born:

I don't know what Jonan looked like in your dreams, Kimberly, but I can still see his face in the dream I had a couple months ago. Jonan had a perfect face, round and plump just like a baby should look. His eyes were big, blue, and there was a deep sparkle in them. Something that lit up. There was wisdom and joy in his eyes that seared through everything and everyone he looked at. He was so content. His hair was perfect on his head. Shiny, and bright strawberry red. His hair was like yours, Kimberly. He had light skin that was soft to touch, with a really beautiful glow to it. He smiled the whole time. The dream didn't consist of anything but looking at him. That was all my dream was for... I just looked at him while he looked around at everything else. I literally woke up thinking, "man, that was an exceptionally beautiful baby." Not like any baby on Earth. He looked like a baby would look here, but there was something beyond him that made him look too perfect for this world. I like to think that's what Jonan's heavenly body looks like.”

Probably like any mother who loses a baby too soon, I have prayed most vulnerably, “Lord, I really believe he is with You, but could you help me when I struggle to believe this?” This dream of Sarah’s strengthens this assurance for me. See...every dream I had of little Jonan he had beautiful blue eyes like his daddy, and red hair just. like. me.

Though these are not experiences from which I will build a theology, I do allow them to bring me some comfort and allow the mysteries of God to grow within my heart.

"Shiny and bright strawberry red. His hair was like yours, Kimberly.”