January is over...tomorrow.
So, with January, goes January's trials and unexpecteds and traumas.
We're movin' on...moving into 2011.
Did you know that Biblically the number 11 refers to "transition"?
I can feel it. It's very much a transitional year. We're moving up. Perhaps that's why January has been the way it's been. Rough. Cause we're moving into the New. Change can be difficult, but I'm learning a little bit more each time it comes around to just let it happen.
Lettin' go...
And hangin' on...
All at the same time.
You know what I mean?
I've been watching numerous people move into the New. Setting aside fears. Moving toward destiny. Going with what's in their guts. It is so refreshing. It's like we've come to a point where we've finally come to the end of ourselves, when we realize that nothing else matters. This pursuit of Love that we're in, it's all we think about. There's no turning back.
And the things we once thought were important actually turn out to be dust in comparison to knowing this God of the Universe.
Now some people may call us crazy, naive, and just plain "religious". How can we rely on someone you can't see? Something you can't prove? Well, I can see Him. Every day. When I see the fruit of this season bloom next season. When I see the restoration of things that seemed impossible to restore. When I see my dreams coming true--right in front of my eyes. And all I did was say, "Yes. I'll believe You can do the impossible." And then, it happens.
And when these things happen, my faith builds. Bigger and bigger. I get another glimpse of the future; I get another piece of the puzzle. And everything that I've gone through, big things and little seemingly random things, start to make sense.
And I realize that nothing can stop what's been started. There is too much at stake. There has been too much progress, too much faithfulness, and too much confirmation to turn around now. And, you know what? Turning around stops even being an option. You stop looking back. You can't go back to Egypt once you've gotten a look at the Promised Land.
We're getting into our groove.
Clearing our path into the future. Making a way in the desert.
And it feels so very good.
Onward. Upward. Bigger space needed. New places to explore.
(corresponding song: Ain't No Stopping Us Now by McFadden & Whitehead)
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Addicted.
Yes, yes, I am.
Everyone has their vice. And most of the time, that vice is not necessarily life-giving.
It oftens falls in the category of cigarettes, booze, sugar, drama, you name it.
But the last few years, I've fallen into a new "trap".
It's my Love addiction.
This trap has all the perks.
And it's free-ing to join.
It doesn't necessarily always come easy.
It often comes with some correction, some molding and shaping, some honest conversations, and some times of heartfelt, self-evaluation.
But it's always for the betterment of me, for the increase in my quality of life.
Some call it pruning, some call it refining. It can probably most accurately be called parenting.
From one Abba Father to one child of the King.
And it's with each gentle prod or large swoop that this Love addiction grows stronger. The need for it grows more intense. And the joy of Life becomes available.
This month, we've gone through a series of loss. One right on top of the other.
In the natural, it would be easy to say it was time to close off our hearts. To shut down.
But this Love addiction pulls us into the exact opposite. Even though the defense mechanism says to close down, my heartstrings can't help but to open up. To receive.
The Bible says you get double for your trouble. And I believe it.
"Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you." --Zechariah 9:12
I like double, don't you?
It seems as though many people are experiencing a plethora of troubles right now. Most everyone I've talked to is walking through things, difficult things. Challenges that are really uprooting. They cause us to question our identity, who we really are, what we really believe about ourselves, about life, about God.
My theory...the dark side is getting pretty scared. I see the light growing stronger and stronger. I see Love about to burst forth; lots of flowing rivers. And when that's about to happen, the losing team always tries to discourage...grasping at any possibility to throw us off course.
And so, I've resolved in my heart NOT to be thrown off course, but intstead to "press on to the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Philippians 3:14)". And, in reality, there really isn't any other choice. My addiction has taken over. I'm in search of more Love; I need my fix.
I am learning the art of being satisfied in the moment, yet constantly looking for the next level of Love.
It's a paradox. I'm not totally yet there. But what I've experienced is really, really fulfilling. And it makes life really, really rich.
So, I'll keep you updated. Cause it's always a surprise, and I really have no idea what I'm doing. And I kinda like it that way.
(corresponding song: Addicted to Love by Robert Palmer)
Everyone has their vice. And most of the time, that vice is not necessarily life-giving.
It oftens falls in the category of cigarettes, booze, sugar, drama, you name it.
But the last few years, I've fallen into a new "trap".
It's my Love addiction.
This trap has all the perks.
And it's free-ing to join.
It doesn't necessarily always come easy.
It often comes with some correction, some molding and shaping, some honest conversations, and some times of heartfelt, self-evaluation.
But it's always for the betterment of me, for the increase in my quality of life.
Some call it pruning, some call it refining. It can probably most accurately be called parenting.
From one Abba Father to one child of the King.
And it's with each gentle prod or large swoop that this Love addiction grows stronger. The need for it grows more intense. And the joy of Life becomes available.
This month, we've gone through a series of loss. One right on top of the other.
In the natural, it would be easy to say it was time to close off our hearts. To shut down.
But this Love addiction pulls us into the exact opposite. Even though the defense mechanism says to close down, my heartstrings can't help but to open up. To receive.
The Bible says you get double for your trouble. And I believe it.
"Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you." --Zechariah 9:12
I like double, don't you?
It seems as though many people are experiencing a plethora of troubles right now. Most everyone I've talked to is walking through things, difficult things. Challenges that are really uprooting. They cause us to question our identity, who we really are, what we really believe about ourselves, about life, about God.
My theory...the dark side is getting pretty scared. I see the light growing stronger and stronger. I see Love about to burst forth; lots of flowing rivers. And when that's about to happen, the losing team always tries to discourage...grasping at any possibility to throw us off course.
And so, I've resolved in my heart NOT to be thrown off course, but intstead to "press on to the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Philippians 3:14)". And, in reality, there really isn't any other choice. My addiction has taken over. I'm in search of more Love; I need my fix.
I am learning the art of being satisfied in the moment, yet constantly looking for the next level of Love.
It's a paradox. I'm not totally yet there. But what I've experienced is really, really fulfilling. And it makes life really, really rich.
So, I'll keep you updated. Cause it's always a surprise, and I really have no idea what I'm doing. And I kinda like it that way.
(corresponding song: Addicted to Love by Robert Palmer)
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
New.
The more I learn, the more I realize I don't know. Life is full of surprises.
Unexpecteds.
Adventures.
Shock.
Heartache.
And Redemption.
Life is also full of a lot of other things. Those are just the few that have chimed true for me recently.
It seems to me that the more I hold onto things, the more I need to let them go.
There are rumors out there that say that holding tight to things means you care. Remember, Jack and Rose? "I'll never let go, Jack, I'll never let go." And though there is definite truth and love connected to her words, I've realized that the more I let go, the more I live. It doesn't mean that I don't care, it doesn't mean that it didn't matter, it doesn't mean that it still doesn't hurt every once and awhile. It just means that I'll let God take His course.
Because living with a heart that is alive is worth it.
Sometimes we have to live through heartache in order to see the beauty of the other side. I think about the challenges that my life has had to offer. I mostly look back and say, "Wow. I'm so grateful that I had to walk through that; it transformed me so much. But I never want to do that again." And after I get a break in the clouds and a little refreshment, the next challenge comes along. And though it has similar effects, it's a different experience.
And because of those experiences, I feel rich.
Don't get me wrong. In the midst of them, there is usually kicking and screaming. Sometimes an expletive or two. And most always, chocolate.
I often tell God how I don't want to do this or that, how it's too hard, or it's "not fair". And then He reminds me that I don't see how He sees. And as I go through the journey that He has for me, I always come to find out that He was right. I don't always understand it even after it happens. But I feel it, the change in me. The freedom.
I saw a quote yesterday that made me smile: "Just when the caterpillar was about to give up, it turned into a butterfly." I wonder how many times I was about to give up and hang my hat, and then that extra grace showed up just in time. I'm sure all of our lives are full of stories like that. Just in the nick of time.
And because of it, I realize yet again, that any effort I have given falls short. There is nothing I can do to fix life or make it fit into a day planner in such a neat fashion. Instead, I just hold on to that unmerited gift. The one that was perfect and given for me to do just that. I remind myself that God didn't have to redeem my life; He wanted to. He missed me. And there are still parts of me, that He created, that He misses. And so, because of the babe in a manger, I get to slowly receive those parts of me back. It may take some heartache, and it may take some letting go of the securities I've held onto. But what I get in return is Redemption. I share in the sufferings of the One who died for me, and I also receive the glory of His resurrection. If that doesn't make life worth living, I'm not sure what does.
It's a new life everyday. No matter the mistakes. No matter the failures. No matter the challenges. It's all good. As our stories become History.
(corresponding song: Life in Technicolor II by Coldplay)
Unexpecteds.
Adventures.
Shock.
Heartache.
And Redemption.
Life is also full of a lot of other things. Those are just the few that have chimed true for me recently.
It seems to me that the more I hold onto things, the more I need to let them go.
There are rumors out there that say that holding tight to things means you care. Remember, Jack and Rose? "I'll never let go, Jack, I'll never let go." And though there is definite truth and love connected to her words, I've realized that the more I let go, the more I live. It doesn't mean that I don't care, it doesn't mean that it didn't matter, it doesn't mean that it still doesn't hurt every once and awhile. It just means that I'll let God take His course.
Because living with a heart that is alive is worth it.
Sometimes we have to live through heartache in order to see the beauty of the other side. I think about the challenges that my life has had to offer. I mostly look back and say, "Wow. I'm so grateful that I had to walk through that; it transformed me so much. But I never want to do that again." And after I get a break in the clouds and a little refreshment, the next challenge comes along. And though it has similar effects, it's a different experience.
And because of those experiences, I feel rich.
Don't get me wrong. In the midst of them, there is usually kicking and screaming. Sometimes an expletive or two. And most always, chocolate.
I often tell God how I don't want to do this or that, how it's too hard, or it's "not fair". And then He reminds me that I don't see how He sees. And as I go through the journey that He has for me, I always come to find out that He was right. I don't always understand it even after it happens. But I feel it, the change in me. The freedom.
I saw a quote yesterday that made me smile: "Just when the caterpillar was about to give up, it turned into a butterfly." I wonder how many times I was about to give up and hang my hat, and then that extra grace showed up just in time. I'm sure all of our lives are full of stories like that. Just in the nick of time.
And because of it, I realize yet again, that any effort I have given falls short. There is nothing I can do to fix life or make it fit into a day planner in such a neat fashion. Instead, I just hold on to that unmerited gift. The one that was perfect and given for me to do just that. I remind myself that God didn't have to redeem my life; He wanted to. He missed me. And there are still parts of me, that He created, that He misses. And so, because of the babe in a manger, I get to slowly receive those parts of me back. It may take some heartache, and it may take some letting go of the securities I've held onto. But what I get in return is Redemption. I share in the sufferings of the One who died for me, and I also receive the glory of His resurrection. If that doesn't make life worth living, I'm not sure what does.
It's a new life everyday. No matter the mistakes. No matter the failures. No matter the challenges. It's all good. As our stories become History.
(corresponding song: Life in Technicolor II by Coldplay)
Monday, January 24, 2011
Papa Bear
Happy Birthday, Papa Hump. We know you're telling all your good stories Somewhere Over The Rainbow. We look forward to hearing all your new material someday. Here's to celebrating you! We sure do miss you.
Daniel Humphrey, Sr. 1946-2011
If Dan Humphrey said it, it must be true. Well, somewhat true. Ok, not true at all. The life story of Dan Humphrey is much like the stories he loved to share each and every day. They were stories filled with tales of adventure, triumphant love, tough lessons learned the wrong way, hopeful endings and embellishments unimaginable.
Dan was born on January 24, 1946 in Elyria to Frank A. and Patricia Humphrey, the second born of six children. He went home to the Lord on Monday, January 17, 2011. He was 64. Wild at heart, he knew only the ways of a boy. His childhood was filled with family, faith and friendship. He attended St. Mary School and Elyria Catholic High School, graduating in 1965, more at the request of the beloved Sisters of Notre Dame, than by his own merits. He played football and basketball, was always the class clown and loved his sisters and mom. While he and his brothers survived many perils, including sinking boats in the Vermilion Lagoons, falling from roofs and even a battle against an American Indian family that lived down by the Black River, Dan would attribute much of life’s survival to those life lessons he learned through his dearest friend, Timmy Orvis.
Following high school, Dan joined the U.S. Army, serving as a Light Weapons Infantryman. While preparing to deploy to Vietnam, Dan suffered a neck injury from a parachuting injury and was subsequently stationed in Germany for the remainder of his service.
Even greater things began in Dan’s life when he returned to Elyria and joined his father and uncle at Humphrey & Cavagna Insurance Company. For more than 35 years, he insured countless homeowners, businesses and medical practices. Most important to him in all of his work were the relationships he built, not only with those that he insured, but with his partners, professional staff and morning coffee gang. A lifetime of friendships was built through Dan’s many associations, including PICO, ProAssurance and Westfield Agencies. He also enjoyed the membership perks of the Elyria Elks Club, United Polish Club and various veteran and social clubs, including the Elyria Country Club and the Catawba Island Club.
In 1968, the baritone voice of the Hump crooned outside of the MB Johnson School of Nursing, wooing the heart of his bride-to-be, Donna L. Vene. Their courtship and 40 years of marriage was a match made in heaven. Of those 40 years, his children recall their dad’s incessant request to Donna that she would marry him all over again. An answer that was always a humorous and predictable “NO”! Together they raised a family of five children and were able to celebrate their marriages and having children of their own - without a doubt their biggest and proudest achievement as a couple.
Among Dan’s other achievements were his home inventions, including the famed Mister Mister, the Back-Jacket and the all-meat hot dog with built in ketchup and mustard. He enjoyed the international scene as he made his own sausage and sauce with his Calabrian friend, homemade polish sauerkraut and even appeared in a made for TV cooking show, long before it was en vogue. Most historically, he was named Honorary United States Ambassador to Paraguay in 1986.
To remember Dan, celebrate and carry his humor, faith and stories are his “Contessa” of 40 years, Donna L. Humphrey; “fine sons” and their wives, Matt and Karlene of Vermilion, Daniel, Jr. and Katie of Elyria and David and Sarah of Spring Hill, Tennessee; daughters-of-his-heart, Coleen Humphrey and fiancée Stephen Bazzichi of Parma and Kristen and husband Brett Trimble of Channel Islands, California; eight grandchildren, Madison, Evan, Isabella, Ryan, Tess, Jack, Grant and Ella; brothers and sisters-in-law, Frank and Wilda Humphrey of Elyria, Patrick and Donna M. Humphrey of Elyria, Richard and Diane Humphrey of Milford; sisters and brothers-in-law, Julie and Bill McGlynn of Lake Mary, Florida and Kathleen and Jim Garth of Delran, New Jersey; dear aunt, Catherine Cavagna of Elyria; numerous nieces, nephews, cousins, friends, a dog Monroe and a little white car.
Friends may call on both Thursday, January 20, 2011 and Friday, January 21, 2011, from 4 to 9 P.M. in the Weigand Room at St. Mary Catholic Church, 320 Middle Avenue, Elyria. Closing prayers will be said on Saturday, January 22, 2011 at 9:45 A.M., followed by a Mass of Christian Burial at 10 A.M. Reverend Charles T. Diedrick, Pastor, and Deacon Frank A. Humphrey and Deacon Patrick Humphrey will concelebrate. Burial will be in St. Mary Cemetery, Elyria, with military honors presented by members of the Elyria VFW Post 1079.Those that knew Dan are aware of the years of medical care, miracles and the fight he gave with a failing heart. His desire in remembering him would be three-fold. Support the American Heart Association and all of its effort to cure heart disease, love your family, friends and God with all of your heart, and never tell a story that doesn’t contain at least one exaggerated, unbelievable truth .
Arrangements entrusted to Reichlin-Roberts Funeral Home, 327 Cleveland St., Elyria. Online condolences may be made at www.reichlinroberts.com
(written by Matthew Humphrey)
(corresponding song: Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwoole)
Monday, January 17, 2011
Just The Way You Are.
January 15th marked the last day of my One Dress month with Amy. Four more months to go, and she's got at least four more friends to join her. You can do it, Ame!
As my last few days came around, I started to think a lot about my journey this past month. I didn't get to study all the women that I listed. There were a few (Sarah obviously) who really got my attention, and so one day with her just didn't cut it. I needed more time. And, so, I still have many women left that I would love to learn from and experience life with.
But over the course of my 30 days, one theme kept ringing in my ear. "Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." Thank you, Dr. Suess.
That, combined with Ella's current favorite Veggie Tales video, Snooder-ella, brought a beautiful conclusion to my month. Snooderella is the youngest of her sisters, dawned with braces, glasses, and crazy hair. One night she's visited by her fairy godmother, who helps get her ready for the ball. This transformation changes Snooderella on the outside and gave her confidence to dance the night away at the ball. The catch, though, was that at midnight, her new look would disappear; she would be left as the original Snooderella she was. As the clock strikes twelve and her looks pass away, in walks the King.
Snooderella looks at him with sadness as she realizes her looks truly made her feel no different, and their conversation goes something like this:
King: Excuse me young lady, if I might, with permission, of course, have the last dance tonight?
Snooderella: With me? You must be mistaken, I'm an awfully poor choice.
King: Who told you you're awful? How do you know?
Snooderella: Can't you see for yourself? The whole world tells me so.
King: Would you like to my child, hear what I think instead?
I think you're beautiful.
I treasure you deeply, you're lovely my child.
I think you're beautiful,
your hair and your braces,
your glasses, your clothes,
and your cumbersome graces.
And many more traits which I could speak of.
There's nothing about you that I don't truly love.
You're kind and you're honest and funny and smart.
You're really quite charming; you have a good heart."
Snooderella: You're majesty, she replied with a tear, I'd like to believe you, is that really true?
King: Of course it is true, every word that I say.
Daughter, I am the King, and I made you this way.
I delight in your beauty, you're wonderfully made.
I knew you before the foundations were laid.
You're precious to me, every hair on your head.
Daughter, hear and believe.
And so, with the confirmation of the King, Snooderella's demeanor changes. She no longer looks upon herself with self-pity and as the unloved.
As I've worn the "dress", I've slipped into many a Snooderella's tale. Whether it be through the Daughter Project, through the mall where pre-teens abound, through the line of ladies at Starbucks, through the life of celebrities, through the life of my Ella, and through the life of myself.
It seems as though we could all use a Dance with the King every once in awhile.
A reminder of the Truth.
As I was writing this blog, images of beautiful women I know kept popping into my head. Women who I love, just the way they are. And, I thought to myself, "What if wearing a dress for one month was simply about seeing the beauty of these women? The beauty of all women...just the way they are."
So, breathe these faces in. These women, whom I have come to love, just because they're them.
I love you all (and then some...if I only had time to download a picture of every single one of my friends!).
(corresponding song: Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars)
As my last few days came around, I started to think a lot about my journey this past month. I didn't get to study all the women that I listed. There were a few (Sarah obviously) who really got my attention, and so one day with her just didn't cut it. I needed more time. And, so, I still have many women left that I would love to learn from and experience life with.
But over the course of my 30 days, one theme kept ringing in my ear. "Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You." Thank you, Dr. Suess.
That, combined with Ella's current favorite Veggie Tales video, Snooder-ella, brought a beautiful conclusion to my month. Snooderella is the youngest of her sisters, dawned with braces, glasses, and crazy hair. One night she's visited by her fairy godmother, who helps get her ready for the ball. This transformation changes Snooderella on the outside and gave her confidence to dance the night away at the ball. The catch, though, was that at midnight, her new look would disappear; she would be left as the original Snooderella she was. As the clock strikes twelve and her looks pass away, in walks the King.
Snooderella looks at him with sadness as she realizes her looks truly made her feel no different, and their conversation goes something like this:
King: Excuse me young lady, if I might, with permission, of course, have the last dance tonight?
Snooderella: With me? You must be mistaken, I'm an awfully poor choice.
King: Who told you you're awful? How do you know?
Snooderella: Can't you see for yourself? The whole world tells me so.
King: Would you like to my child, hear what I think instead?
I think you're beautiful.
I treasure you deeply, you're lovely my child.
I think you're beautiful,
your hair and your braces,
your glasses, your clothes,
and your cumbersome graces.
And many more traits which I could speak of.
There's nothing about you that I don't truly love.
You're kind and you're honest and funny and smart.
You're really quite charming; you have a good heart."
Snooderella: You're majesty, she replied with a tear, I'd like to believe you, is that really true?
King: Of course it is true, every word that I say.
Daughter, I am the King, and I made you this way.
I delight in your beauty, you're wonderfully made.
I knew you before the foundations were laid.
You're precious to me, every hair on your head.
Daughter, hear and believe.
And so, with the confirmation of the King, Snooderella's demeanor changes. She no longer looks upon herself with self-pity and as the unloved.
As I've worn the "dress", I've slipped into many a Snooderella's tale. Whether it be through the Daughter Project, through the mall where pre-teens abound, through the line of ladies at Starbucks, through the life of celebrities, through the life of my Ella, and through the life of myself.
It seems as though we could all use a Dance with the King every once in awhile.
A reminder of the Truth.
As I was writing this blog, images of beautiful women I know kept popping into my head. Women who I love, just the way they are. And, I thought to myself, "What if wearing a dress for one month was simply about seeing the beauty of these women? The beauty of all women...just the way they are."
So, breathe these faces in. These women, whom I have come to love, just because they're them.
I love you all (and then some...if I only had time to download a picture of every single one of my friends!).
(corresponding song: Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars)
Friday, January 14, 2011
The New Year
Every December 31, we dawn our heads with sparkly tiaras and watch the clock go tick tock until it strikes 12.
We put the past behind us and push onto what's ahead. Forgetting the troubles of yesterday and moving toward what is fresh.
There's a sense of hope and anticipation, all things becoming new.
I purposely have been avoiding the topic of New Year's this year. My New Year's eve was not spent within the most delightful of circumstances.
And instead of seeing this new year as a gift, it has felt somewhat bitter.
While I was still in an unknown oblivion as to what was to come for my New Year, I had a dream.
I was standing on top of a green hill, next to a wooden-sided house. It was a big house. I stood next to a large window. My best friend growing up was standing next to me, propped up on a small porch that connected to the door of the house. As I looked to my left, I saw the ocean. I remembered that I had been to this place before. I actually had a previous dream about this exact house, exact hill, and exact ocean. I looked over my shoulder, and I noticed the tide start to roar. As it started to climb up the hill I was standing on, I got progressively more nervous. And, then, before I knew it, it was coming. In my mind, I thought, "I'm not so sure I'm ready for this. I don't really know about this." But the tide came anyway. Though I thought I may drown, instead, I learned the art of holding my breath as each wave came crashing over my head.
I've been thinking about this dream a lot the last two weeks.
Perhaps its because of the fact that while in my process, I have not drowned.
But instead am learning to breathe.
Underwater.
There are many unknowns in this thing called life. And it's not always our job to figure out the "why's". We really aren't capable of doing so most of the time; there are often mysteries that remain that won't be figured out on this side of eternity.
But what we can learn to do, is breathe. In one exhaling breath, we can exhaust all that has held us captive. And in one inhale, we can breathe in all that will bring us to a new level of freedom.
And in the process of breathing, we do become new.
It may not look like what we were expecting. It hasn't been what I expected. But in my own way, I do dawn my tiara, in the form of sea goggles and a snorkle, and I swim around in an underwater adventure into my New Year.
Learning to navigate in an unfamiliar place.
And though I might run into some sharks or octopus with the potential to ink me into lunch, I also know that I will run into schools of beautiful fish with bright colors and hues I've never before seen.
And, so, I swim.
And also become new.
"The object of a new year is not that we would have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul." --G.K. Chesterton
And in this new year, it's true for me. A new soul awaits. It may not have come in a form that I thought made sense...but really, when does that ever happen?
If I thought I knew what was best for me, I surely wouldn't have ended up in most of the places I've ended up. And, for that, I am grateful.
So, cheers to the New Year. The heights and depths. And the underwater adventures.
(corresponding song: Lovers' Carvings by Biblio)
We put the past behind us and push onto what's ahead. Forgetting the troubles of yesterday and moving toward what is fresh.
There's a sense of hope and anticipation, all things becoming new.
I purposely have been avoiding the topic of New Year's this year. My New Year's eve was not spent within the most delightful of circumstances.
And instead of seeing this new year as a gift, it has felt somewhat bitter.
While I was still in an unknown oblivion as to what was to come for my New Year, I had a dream.
I was standing on top of a green hill, next to a wooden-sided house. It was a big house. I stood next to a large window. My best friend growing up was standing next to me, propped up on a small porch that connected to the door of the house. As I looked to my left, I saw the ocean. I remembered that I had been to this place before. I actually had a previous dream about this exact house, exact hill, and exact ocean. I looked over my shoulder, and I noticed the tide start to roar. As it started to climb up the hill I was standing on, I got progressively more nervous. And, then, before I knew it, it was coming. In my mind, I thought, "I'm not so sure I'm ready for this. I don't really know about this." But the tide came anyway. Though I thought I may drown, instead, I learned the art of holding my breath as each wave came crashing over my head.
I've been thinking about this dream a lot the last two weeks.
Perhaps its because of the fact that while in my process, I have not drowned.
But instead am learning to breathe.
Underwater.
There are many unknowns in this thing called life. And it's not always our job to figure out the "why's". We really aren't capable of doing so most of the time; there are often mysteries that remain that won't be figured out on this side of eternity.
But what we can learn to do, is breathe. In one exhaling breath, we can exhaust all that has held us captive. And in one inhale, we can breathe in all that will bring us to a new level of freedom.
And in the process of breathing, we do become new.
It may not look like what we were expecting. It hasn't been what I expected. But in my own way, I do dawn my tiara, in the form of sea goggles and a snorkle, and I swim around in an underwater adventure into my New Year.
Learning to navigate in an unfamiliar place.
And though I might run into some sharks or octopus with the potential to ink me into lunch, I also know that I will run into schools of beautiful fish with bright colors and hues I've never before seen.
And, so, I swim.
And also become new.
"The object of a new year is not that we would have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul." --G.K. Chesterton
And in this new year, it's true for me. A new soul awaits. It may not have come in a form that I thought made sense...but really, when does that ever happen?
If I thought I knew what was best for me, I surely wouldn't have ended up in most of the places I've ended up. And, for that, I am grateful.
So, cheers to the New Year. The heights and depths. And the underwater adventures.
(corresponding song: Lovers' Carvings by Biblio)
Monday, January 10, 2011
A letter from Sarah: Part III
Before I share my assignment with you, if you haven't read "Sarah: Parts I and II", you'd probably like to in order for this to make sense! Also, let me preface this blog by saying that my "letter" is not necessarily pulled from the Bible. It's merely 1. part of what Sarah may have thought or contemplated during her journey and 2. part of my journey. If she were to write us a letter, filling in some of the unknowns from her recorded story, and seeing things from the end to the beginning, I think it may have gone something like this.
Dear Sweet Sisters of the Faith:
I greet you with fondness in my heart and the very encouragement of a mother. You know of parts of my journey, though not the whole. I hope this letter finds you well and fills you with a sense of purpose as you continue on your journey, that it shines light on the past as well as shining light onto your future.
Searching for God is not necessarily an easy task. It took me out of my homeland; I became a foreigner in a land I did not know. And God showed up in a way I least expected. When He did arrive, I was in such shock and in such awareness of my futility, that I laughed. It was full of fear.
It wasn't until the fullness of His presence came, that all of the things I held onto so dearly came rushing to the forefront. My barrenness, my emptiness all lying wide open in one chuckle. But even though He knew I would laugh, He spoke anyway.
His response to my unbelief was simple and certain, "Is anything too difficult for the Lord?" In my heart, I knew it was not. In my mind, I contemplated otherwise. It was not that I thought He could not do it; it was that I worried if I could go through with it. My life had followed a pattern, and this promise would offset everything I had known.
There were days when it was easy to believe for the promise; I felt the faith arise. Then, there would be others when I would wonder and worry. Missing a period would be regarded as pregnancy, right? Or, was it menopause? It would be months of going back and forth in my head. Am I pregnant? Or is it now impossible for me to become pregnant? Did I receive the promise? Or did I flat out miss it?
On the good days, I moved toward faith. I would remind myself of The Promise. On bad days, I fought off hopelessness and the uncertainty of what the future held. Not until my belly started to grow, did I actually really start to believe.
The whole experience was rather alarming. When you realize that you are, in fact, carrying a child at 90 years old, your faith starts to shift. What the Lord spoke into being had occurred, but now what? What will it look like from here?
Everyday was a new adventure. Of thoughts, of questions, of concerns, and of joy.
I faced a new unknown. Now that I was carrying a child, I still had to carry to full term and also birth him. It was a new set of challenges.
Sometimes we wait and wait for that word, for it to be spoken out loud. After it's spoken, and we receive it, the seed is planted. But a seed still needs to grow before it can become a blossoming flower. And so it was with my journey.
You see, I was used to being barren. Of course I wanted a child, someone to leave my legacy to. However, the reality of actually doing so, changed the course of my life. I was no longer allowed to live in the shame that once overcame me.
I had to choose to live in glory instead.
Shame can be an easy place to live; it becomes a companion. But when you receive a Promise, shame is not allowed. Glory must take its place. And with glory, honor. And with honor, humility. And with humility, grace.
You may think I did not know much about grace as my story was before the time of Jesus. But I did receive a peak at this precious gift. He is, in fact, the same yesterday, today, and forever.
And, so, during my pregnancy, Grace was all I could cling to. It was there in order for me to conceive. It was there when I believed a missing period meant a baby not menopause. It was there when my belly started to grow and my Promise started to become a reality. It was there as I felt him kick for the first time and also when the contractions started in full force. It was, in fact, what carried me through.
It may seem simple. Grace. And ultimately, in it's paradoxical nature, it is.
I had to let go and receive who I was made to be. Receive all that He is, and receive all the dreams and desires of my heart. And to receive the baby that was to be born to me.
It's really no more difficult than that. After all, He wanted to give me Issac, my laughter, all along. It was only I who had to agree to it.
And so, I exhort you to be open. To believe with all your heart. And to receive the goodness He has to offer. It's free of charge, really.
No fretting and no fear.
Just saying "yes".
It wasn't until that final push, as I birthed Isaac with laughter, that I realized how simple it had really been the whole time. And now I share because I want all to laugh with me, this time out of joy. Nothing is too difficult for the Lord.
All my best, Sarah
(corresponding song: Love Came Down by Brian Johnson)
Dear Sweet Sisters of the Faith:
I greet you with fondness in my heart and the very encouragement of a mother. You know of parts of my journey, though not the whole. I hope this letter finds you well and fills you with a sense of purpose as you continue on your journey, that it shines light on the past as well as shining light onto your future.
Searching for God is not necessarily an easy task. It took me out of my homeland; I became a foreigner in a land I did not know. And God showed up in a way I least expected. When He did arrive, I was in such shock and in such awareness of my futility, that I laughed. It was full of fear.
It wasn't until the fullness of His presence came, that all of the things I held onto so dearly came rushing to the forefront. My barrenness, my emptiness all lying wide open in one chuckle. But even though He knew I would laugh, He spoke anyway.
His response to my unbelief was simple and certain, "Is anything too difficult for the Lord?" In my heart, I knew it was not. In my mind, I contemplated otherwise. It was not that I thought He could not do it; it was that I worried if I could go through with it. My life had followed a pattern, and this promise would offset everything I had known.
There were days when it was easy to believe for the promise; I felt the faith arise. Then, there would be others when I would wonder and worry. Missing a period would be regarded as pregnancy, right? Or, was it menopause? It would be months of going back and forth in my head. Am I pregnant? Or is it now impossible for me to become pregnant? Did I receive the promise? Or did I flat out miss it?
On the good days, I moved toward faith. I would remind myself of The Promise. On bad days, I fought off hopelessness and the uncertainty of what the future held. Not until my belly started to grow, did I actually really start to believe.
The whole experience was rather alarming. When you realize that you are, in fact, carrying a child at 90 years old, your faith starts to shift. What the Lord spoke into being had occurred, but now what? What will it look like from here?
Everyday was a new adventure. Of thoughts, of questions, of concerns, and of joy.
I faced a new unknown. Now that I was carrying a child, I still had to carry to full term and also birth him. It was a new set of challenges.
Sometimes we wait and wait for that word, for it to be spoken out loud. After it's spoken, and we receive it, the seed is planted. But a seed still needs to grow before it can become a blossoming flower. And so it was with my journey.
You see, I was used to being barren. Of course I wanted a child, someone to leave my legacy to. However, the reality of actually doing so, changed the course of my life. I was no longer allowed to live in the shame that once overcame me.
I had to choose to live in glory instead.
Shame can be an easy place to live; it becomes a companion. But when you receive a Promise, shame is not allowed. Glory must take its place. And with glory, honor. And with honor, humility. And with humility, grace.
You may think I did not know much about grace as my story was before the time of Jesus. But I did receive a peak at this precious gift. He is, in fact, the same yesterday, today, and forever.
And, so, during my pregnancy, Grace was all I could cling to. It was there in order for me to conceive. It was there when I believed a missing period meant a baby not menopause. It was there when my belly started to grow and my Promise started to become a reality. It was there as I felt him kick for the first time and also when the contractions started in full force. It was, in fact, what carried me through.
It may seem simple. Grace. And ultimately, in it's paradoxical nature, it is.
I had to let go and receive who I was made to be. Receive all that He is, and receive all the dreams and desires of my heart. And to receive the baby that was to be born to me.
It's really no more difficult than that. After all, He wanted to give me Issac, my laughter, all along. It was only I who had to agree to it.
And so, I exhort you to be open. To believe with all your heart. And to receive the goodness He has to offer. It's free of charge, really.
No fretting and no fear.
Just saying "yes".
It wasn't until that final push, as I birthed Isaac with laughter, that I realized how simple it had really been the whole time. And now I share because I want all to laugh with me, this time out of joy. Nothing is too difficult for the Lord.
All my best, Sarah
(corresponding song: Love Came Down by Brian Johnson)
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Fear turned Faith: Sarah Part II
The way I read it, Sarah had 25 years from when she first moved from Egypt to a foreign land searching for God to when He showed up, and showed up with a word. It took one year for her promise to be fulfilled...getting pregnant to birthing. That's some serious acceleration.
If any of us have had wilderness experiences (I'm gonna assume that we all have), the 25 years seem really long. Searching...searching...is this You or is that You? Can I have this baby? Do I need to go enlist Hagar? What the heck am I doing?
Everyone has their own journey to find Faith. Each journey comes with its own set of questions and sometimes un-answers. Each journey comes with it's own potential setbacks or challenges. Each journey comes with it's own skeletons in the closet...needing to be uncovered and restored.
My assumption is that even with her faults, something about that 25 years of searching brought Sarah to a place where she was ready for acceleration. Sure, she failed. Not trusting God, she had Hagar try to have "her" baby. Not a great idea, caused a lot of trouble. But somehow, it must have strengthened her character. It must have strengthened her resolve, pushing her closer to God and closer to faith, and further from fear. Where did fear get her? Nowhere...except more heartache.
And, so, in this journey, she must have chosen to move forward.
Running toward The Promise.
Moving toward Faith.
It's a refining process. It's a gutting process. And during it, she and we, have choices.
How does fear become faith?
Embracing our enemies. Instead of seeing challenges, failures, and wounds as a sign of weakness...look at them as a sign of great Grace. God's power is made perfect in weakness. If we didn't encounter some type of difficulty, it doesn't give God the opportunity to pull us from the ditch, to utilize the beautiful gift of Good Friday, to understand the Love of Abba.
And in the transformation, He turns fear to faith.
And instead of looking at circumstances as ruling you, you rule them. You tell that lie to shove it. You take that awful circumstance, and you embrace it. Give it a big hug, get all those emotions out. Let 'em flow and then offer them up. And then, you say "thank you" for making me a more alive person.
And in each step, in each embrace, the faith arises. You gain more territory.
And the Promise gets closer.
The confirmation of the covenant between you and God, it becomes more confident. You become more confident. Not in your own abilities...
...but in the abilities of the One who made you.
And you get swept up. In a big heap of Grace and Mercy.
Enjoying the ride.
Watching it all fall into place.
Part III up next...(I have no conclusions. I'm still in Part II, but I'm re-writing my assignment, so I'll share it with you.....).
(corresponding song: I run to you by Lady Antebellum)
If any of us have had wilderness experiences (I'm gonna assume that we all have), the 25 years seem really long. Searching...searching...is this You or is that You? Can I have this baby? Do I need to go enlist Hagar? What the heck am I doing?
Everyone has their own journey to find Faith. Each journey comes with its own set of questions and sometimes un-answers. Each journey comes with it's own potential setbacks or challenges. Each journey comes with it's own skeletons in the closet...needing to be uncovered and restored.
My assumption is that even with her faults, something about that 25 years of searching brought Sarah to a place where she was ready for acceleration. Sure, she failed. Not trusting God, she had Hagar try to have "her" baby. Not a great idea, caused a lot of trouble. But somehow, it must have strengthened her character. It must have strengthened her resolve, pushing her closer to God and closer to faith, and further from fear. Where did fear get her? Nowhere...except more heartache.
And, so, in this journey, she must have chosen to move forward.
Running toward The Promise.
Moving toward Faith.
It's a refining process. It's a gutting process. And during it, she and we, have choices.
How does fear become faith?
Embracing our enemies. Instead of seeing challenges, failures, and wounds as a sign of weakness...look at them as a sign of great Grace. God's power is made perfect in weakness. If we didn't encounter some type of difficulty, it doesn't give God the opportunity to pull us from the ditch, to utilize the beautiful gift of Good Friday, to understand the Love of Abba.
And in the transformation, He turns fear to faith.
And instead of looking at circumstances as ruling you, you rule them. You tell that lie to shove it. You take that awful circumstance, and you embrace it. Give it a big hug, get all those emotions out. Let 'em flow and then offer them up. And then, you say "thank you" for making me a more alive person.
And in each step, in each embrace, the faith arises. You gain more territory.
And the Promise gets closer.
The confirmation of the covenant between you and God, it becomes more confident. You become more confident. Not in your own abilities...
...but in the abilities of the One who made you.
And you get swept up. In a big heap of Grace and Mercy.
Enjoying the ride.
Watching it all fall into place.
Part III up next...(I have no conclusions. I'm still in Part II, but I'm re-writing my assignment, so I'll share it with you.....).
(corresponding song: I run to you by Lady Antebellum)
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