Seized by Hope

Clutter.....

Where have I been?

Well, I've been to visit K.

I've been sitting at my computer reading other people's materials for what they will be teaching at an upcoming conference.

I've been working on my own stuff for teaching at the same conference.

I've been ridding my computer of a dreaded trojan virus called poison ivy.

I've been paying bills.

I've been catching up on emails, messages, notes from my many trips this fall.

I've been trying to be present with kiddos for all that is happening in their lives.

I've been sitting at the blank screen on my blog feeling void of what to write about, but not void of feeling things.

So, my readers I haven't forgotten about you, but my heart and life feel a bit cluttered this week.

I'll be back...perhaps tomorrow.

Parents Weekend

My suitcase is packed, again...which feels like a theme for this Fall. 

We are heading to Parents Weekend for K's college. 

Yesterday was spent grabbing groceries, meeting with some women and attending L's first Parent Teacher Conference.

Yes, yesterday it was the very first Parent Teacher Conference.  L's teacher felt a bit awkward about how to have such a conference with the parents of a 20 year old high school valedictorian, a Senior, and a freshman and her "sensitive little L" as she refers to our five year old.  She started by telling us what is age appropriate at this time their lives, and moved onto to what letters and sounds L recognizes, next was the instruction on the D'Nae-lian writing method (which has been the kindergarten nemesis for all my children thus far) "Here is the fence, up to the sky....blah blah blah". 

The other parents before us had spent 20+ minutes in their conference, we were out in 10.  I think her teacher is doing a great job with her, L is learning, socializing, and so for me there is just not much more to talk about.

I came home to A working on her college essays, in hopes of sending off the application by October 1 to her first pick.  I opened the mail to find an invitation for A to join National Honor Society.  It felt sweet beyond to words to hope that she will walk the stage at Graduation wearing the blue and yellow cords for NHS.  It seems fitting with all her hard work and diligence to overcome her learning challenges.

And, today we're off to college.  My parents are meeting us, my Dad can't wait to sit in the lounge at K's school and drink a Blue Moon with an orange. 

It is another day when the span of ages feels a bit surreal, and I am trying to live in the moments and have my heart feel the full range of emotions.

Belonging

She sat in a chair across from me with her legs crossed underneath her.  Her hair was wet from the rain, her shoes sitting on the floor in front of her were shiny from the water beading up the patent leather. 

As I asked her about her life she began telling me all about the new things she was excited about doing.  I listened and the word "community" kept creeping into her sentences.  She wants it, she's thinking it could come from some of the things she's looking at involving herself with, she needs it, she doesn't have it right now.

The words continued to tumble out like the blocks in the big container my little girls play with after school, falling onto the floor one after the other making a jumble of color on the carpet. 

Slowly the building blocks of words began to take shape and her eyes filled with tears as the reality of the picture emerged and I named it.  "You've lost your community, you've lost your church."

"I don't know where I belong anymore.  What was the place I belonged is gone now, and I don't have the energy to go looking for another place."

He sat in a chair in the circle of eight people.  He was quiet and pensive.  He began talking about the loneliness in the midst of his busy life.  The activities for his kids, the men's bible study he attends, work, the couples he and his wife meet occasionally for dinner, none of it touching this lonely place inside of him.

He says that he's told his wife he wants more with her, more connection, she hears he wants more sex.  He says this feeling of loneliness feels familiar.

He just wants to know he belongs somewhere, that he's known and that he matters.

Belonging.

It takes time to know you belong.  Layers of who you are have to be explored and validated by those around you.  Time has to be spent, time having fun, time sharing stories, time sharing meals, time growing with one another.

Belonging is what happens in a community, not just a group someone names as a community.  To feel like I belong I have to have regular contact with people beyond once a month or occasional lunches after church.  It takes more than a phone call, I need faces in my community, faces with eyes that say I belong and words that reach into my heart.  Belonging feels good.  Belonging will cost me the busyness that invades my days, and will require some stillness and the expression of my soul.

Belonging .... to "be" with others, really "be", is what I long for. 

Apology

I met a friend for lunch yesterday.  We used to attend the same church.  We haven't seen each other since earlier in the summer.  We sat at California Pizza Kitchen watching the rain come down in sheets outside the window while we ate soup and salad.  I had planned on the lunch lasting about an hour, it lasted nearly two.

We shared a bit about what's happening in our lives and then she looked at me and said, "What is the deepest wound you are still carrying from what happened to you at the church."  My eyes filled with tears as I took a moment to sit in the question.  I was surprised she asked.  It's been a year now.  I felt God's arm stretch out around me and I could hear Him whisper in my ear, "your heart still matters, I haven't forgotten you and neither has your friend".  I had told Mark last week that the process of leaving still feels like a living death.  The church goes on and is alive and growing, and yet for us what it was to our lives is dead.  I shared with my friend those words, and a few more specifics about what continues to hurt.

She listened and then said, "As a member of that church I want to apologize for what happened.  I am so deeply sorry."

Her eyes and her words melted into the hurt spot that still feels tender and only partially healed.

We finished our lunch and shared some more words with one another.  

As I drove away I was aware that her kindness and her question touched the shame that speaks to me that I should be over this hurt, that I just ought to move on, that I am pathetic in my continued awareness of pain and loss.

I left my lunch with the voice of shame silenced and that tender place in my heart having been touched by a kind hand.  I left with a sense that a bit more of the wound had been healed.  I left grateful for the rain, grateful for the meal and grateful for God's mysterious timing.

Beautiful

This song is rolling around in my head. 

Lots of reasons.

I've tried to post something 4 times so far this morning, and the words just aren't coming.

So....

here's what's in my head today. 

Walking with B

5 years ago I walked with B for the first time.  We didn't walk alone back then because Lisa went with us.  They would pull up outside my house while it was still dark outside.  We'd head out three across walking through the dark before I had to wake up the original three for school.

We talked about their lives, and bit about mine.  Who they were interested in and whether or not the interest seemed to be returned.  The time went quickly and we would return home just as the sun was peeking above the horizon.  They headed back to "the merry trail house" and I headed inside to wake up the kids and start the day.

Time moved forward and I had L and we still walked occasionally.  Then B moved from the merry trail house and we didn't walk anymore.

B got married and she and D moved to a duplex a couple of streets over from our house.  I had E and needed to walk again to take off the residual weight I was carrying around.

The conversations were different that year.  We talked about marriage, about dreaming of what the future held for them.  We took a different "route" than we'd taken before for our walks.  We saw new things, we shared new things.

Then B and D bought a house 20 minutes away and the walking stopped.

Today we walked again.  This time she was pushing the stroller with her sweet boy riding along.

It felt good to head out again, like we used to, this time a bit later in the morning.  My kids are all at school and B is just settling into the routine of small kids and how they change your life.  I thought about the last five years, all that has changed and what still remains.

It was sweet to walk with B.

Tender

I'm sitting in the airport in Phoenix, Terminal 3, which used to be Terminal 2.  Mark and I met in this terminal almost 24 years ago.  The scenery is familiar as I sit looking out the window at the skyline of downtown Phoenix.  I can clearly see the Hyatt Regency, with its signature compass restaurant.  Mark worked there when S was born.  I can see the Bank One building where I sang in the lobby with my high school choir.

I am waiting to board a plane heading to Michigan.  I just finished 3 days with my very dear friend on our annual shopping trip.  I have on new shoes.  My heart feels tender from our time together...good friends will do that to your heart.

It's been a year since we left our church home and started over again.

It's been a year since my friend said to me, "While we are in Phoenix I want to hear from you about what it would take for you to start your ministry."

My inbox is holding confirmations from women coming to the Seized by Hope retreat in November.

What was only dream and a conversation over margaritas as Z Tejas a year ago is a non profit business today.

God is wild, mysterious and changing me daily.

And, it leaves my heart feeling tender.

Recovery

What do you think of when you read the word "recovery"? 

If you google "recovery" you will find recovery.gov at the top of the page.  Apparently we are in enough of a mess that the government has an entire entity devoted to recovery.  You can broaden your search and find that recovery usually is offered in 12 steps.

A pastor told me once that he doesn't believe in recovery, he only believes in healing...you get healed and then its done. 

That hasn't been my experience, and doesn't feel consistent with what I read in scripture.  Recovery is about addressing the impact and damage that sin has had in your life.  It's about getting honest that everything isn't ok and that you want more out of your relationships, with God and with people and with yourself.  Recovery certainly includes healing, and often involves miraculous things happening.  Recovery is ongoing and will continue as long as we walk on the face of the earth and wait to go "home" to heaven...where ultimate and complete healing will take place.

Recently I heard a woman say, " I am trying to recover from seeing Jesus as an expression of judgment instead of seeing him as an expression of love."

Her words echoed the experience of so many "church-ed" people that I encounter.  Her bravery in voicing the truth about her recovery was refreshing. 

12 step programs have some great things associated with them, however I haven't found 12 steps that work for the recovery of my heart and the life Jesus promised in John 10:10 "I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly".  You can 'celebrate recovery' at many churches, it comes in 12 steps....concluding with celebration.

For me, recovery is about living in the midst of authentic, life giving community.  It's about being honest about what really lies in my heart and inviting people to walk into the mess of things with me.  It's about continuing to hope for more and more of the abundant life Jesus promised, understanding that the enemy of my soul is working hard to rob me from it and leave me believing there isn't anymore than what I can conjure up for myself.

Recovery is what happens when you start to believe that sin does damage and the damage leaves us in need of help, in need of recovery.  

Castles, Rain and Being Feminine

It rained the day I visited my first "real" castle.  The castle that Cinderella's castle is modeled after at Disneyland, the castle from Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang, the castle I've seen in pictures many times.  The castle that looks like something from a childhood dream.

I love the rain, it doesn't bother me, I don't tire of it, something about rain feels soothing and often refreshing to me.  I welcomed it the day we went to the castle.

I would have loved to curl up with some coffee, my journal and my thoughts and sit in this window for a few hours ....

It's raining here today.  It's been months since we've had "measurable" rain.  The sound of the rain woke me this morning and invited me to hope that it might last for more than 15 minutes.  It poured on us as I drove the kids to school and I loved every drop and the sound of windshield wipers on high trying to keep up with the deluge.

I've set the day aside to write and I am sitting up in K's room with the window open (and the a/c is running...it is an extravagance I am indulging in because I want to hear the sound of the rain hitting the roof.)

I need to write about my femininity, about what I emerged from my youth believing about women, about how I felt in the presence of men and women, about where God was and is in the midst of it all.

This isn't new territory, but it always feels difficult to dive into it.

I am grateful for the rain today, for the pre-determined solitude I am living in for a few hours, for the possibility of encountering God in these places my heart is resisting to go.

I am remembering the window in the castle in Germany, the rain, and the reality of God's pursuit of me.

Path to Solitude

I came upon these stairs one afternoon when we were in Germany.  Mark and I decided to go for a walk in the "woods" behind the conference center.  The stairs looked inviting to me, although I couldn't see where they would lead.

We started down the stairs, which clearly had lead to a path once upon a time.  As we came to the end of the stairs we found a narrow path that was overgrown with foliage.  We walked down it for a while and then realized that it had become so overgrown that to continue on it would require a bit of forging through the brush and steadying ourselves on the side on the mountain.  Time didn't permit this type of adventure that afternoon and returned the way we had come and found a wider path to make our way into the woods.

These stairs have come to my mind frequently over the past few days. 

I could unpack all the metaphors for you of how these stairs seem to stir something in my soul and remind of things that are important.

Instead, I will leave you ponder them for yourselves and wonder about the metaphors for your life.