I have transferred my blog to Wordpress. Please bookmark me at the following link for future posts.
blessedriddance.wordpress.com
xo.
Andrea
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
burdened.
My friend murdered his roommate last weekend.
In the eyes of society he will always have "murderer" listed after his name - almost like a title. "So and so, the murderer." This title will forever linger. For this my heart is full of sorrow.
For the first time I feel true compassion toward someone who has committed such a vile and evil act. Never would I have expected this of him, that he would harm a person and leave that person on the ground, gasping at precious air for his own life. Never would I have imagined a rage to come from within him so deep that he could do such a thing. I'm appalled and yet deeply sad in ways I can barely articulate. There is not a word strong enough to wrap up in a neat descriptive package for you to understand. Grief has closed the depths of my mind so that my heart might begin to understand something greater.
Out of this circumstance God has burdened me with knowledge of His compassion toward us in our great state of depravity. To think that the Creator of the universe knows intimately our awful state and yet still loves us to such great heights that He might send Redemption...Oh how I marvel. And oh how I mourn. The Lord's is a heavy burden to try and comprehend, for I am merely human. I am created, not Creator. I alone cannot bear even a fragment of His work. And yet He has given me strength to understand - scarcely - His definition of compassion on us.
I challenge you to shift your paradigm - even slightly - to think from this place. We are depraved. We have either found redemption or have the opportunity to find redemption in the blood of Christ. The victim desperately needs to be rescued, but what of the perpetrator of evil? Does not their soul need saving? Does he not breathe as I? Does he not need food as I? Does he, deep in his soul, not crave mercy and love as I? Does he not need grace as I?
I believe he does.
In the eyes of society he will always have "murderer" listed after his name - almost like a title. "So and so, the murderer." This title will forever linger. For this my heart is full of sorrow.
For the first time I feel true compassion toward someone who has committed such a vile and evil act. Never would I have expected this of him, that he would harm a person and leave that person on the ground, gasping at precious air for his own life. Never would I have imagined a rage to come from within him so deep that he could do such a thing. I'm appalled and yet deeply sad in ways I can barely articulate. There is not a word strong enough to wrap up in a neat descriptive package for you to understand. Grief has closed the depths of my mind so that my heart might begin to understand something greater.
Out of this circumstance God has burdened me with knowledge of His compassion toward us in our great state of depravity. To think that the Creator of the universe knows intimately our awful state and yet still loves us to such great heights that He might send Redemption...Oh how I marvel. And oh how I mourn. The Lord's is a heavy burden to try and comprehend, for I am merely human. I am created, not Creator. I alone cannot bear even a fragment of His work. And yet He has given me strength to understand - scarcely - His definition of compassion on us.
I challenge you to shift your paradigm - even slightly - to think from this place. We are depraved. We have either found redemption or have the opportunity to find redemption in the blood of Christ. The victim desperately needs to be rescued, but what of the perpetrator of evil? Does not their soul need saving? Does he not breathe as I? Does he not need food as I? Does he, deep in his soul, not crave mercy and love as I? Does he not need grace as I?
I believe he does.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Even More
There's a lot to say. Much has changed, all accredited to God. I love Him more than ever before and I'm confident this love will only continue to grow as the years progress. I asked my small group to write something - anything - to express why they cherish the sacrifice of Jesus in hopes that even if it's small now, the love and the reasons for the love would grow and abound in their hearts over the years. I can't help but put my example here. Imperfect in its hasty composition, but perfect in emotion and joy for all that it means to me.
The secret part of my soul
The secrets I speak of to no other soul
The wounds and sorrows
The ugliness of my self You know
I need not hide them
You lay them bare
And wipe them clean
You heal, redeem and restore
I love thee for thy Great Love
It wavers not
For You love all of me.
The outward life -
Life that is messy,
And human in desire and will
The one who burns with anger
Or weeps in sorrow
The one who sins
The careless hurt that seeps out
You call me loved
The mess is forgiven
I am a child, soothed and instructed
And disciplined in heart.
Your mercy resounds.
The war that rages on
You are sovereign over.
The sinful and painful desires
In the depths of my heart You claim
You make them over and over again
Until they are right with You
The sin disappears in light,
in sweet redemption
in the cleansing of blood
The simplest peace settles
It claims the battle and calls it done
And I rest in Your might.
The once messy child
Is not coddled, but cherished.
She is loved in her nature
And slowly reared in the Way
Grown up to love her Lord
Only by His patience and care
His devotion and grace pave her way to Him
She knows His voice and
Sees the gentle work of His hand
And smiles up at His face
As she sits at His feet
There is no other love here
All has disappeared
And a life destined for destruction,
now sanctified and consecrated
At ready to reveal the Glory of the King
The secret part of my soul
The secrets I speak of to no other soul
The wounds and sorrows
The ugliness of my self You know
I need not hide them
You lay them bare
And wipe them clean
You heal, redeem and restore
I love thee for thy Great Love
It wavers not
For You love all of me.
The outward life -
Life that is messy,
And human in desire and will
The one who burns with anger
Or weeps in sorrow
The one who sins
The careless hurt that seeps out
You call me loved
The mess is forgiven
I am a child, soothed and instructed
And disciplined in heart.
Your mercy resounds.
The war that rages on
You are sovereign over.
The sinful and painful desires
In the depths of my heart You claim
You make them over and over again
Until they are right with You
The sin disappears in light,
in sweet redemption
in the cleansing of blood
The simplest peace settles
It claims the battle and calls it done
And I rest in Your might.
The once messy child
Is not coddled, but cherished.
She is loved in her nature
And slowly reared in the Way
Grown up to love her Lord
Only by His patience and care
His devotion and grace pave her way to Him
She knows His voice and
Sees the gentle work of His hand
And smiles up at His face
As she sits at His feet
There is no other love here
All has disappeared
And a life destined for destruction,
now sanctified and consecrated
At ready to reveal the Glory of the King
Saturday, July 17, 2010
The Curve of the Earth
I'm in a season where I appreciate being alone more than I ever have. I'm fine tuning how I spend my time. I am allowing myself time to get lost in my thoughts and turn those thoughts over to my Creator. I am listening.
All the while I feel trapped, stuck in a little eddy of life soon to be spat out further downstream on the next adventure. I'm trying to learn from the eddy.
Each day I focus on being content with where I am. Each day I think about faith and hope and wonder if I would have them if I were a Congolese woman. If I were enslaved in prostitution. If I were living a life in bondage. If I had less than I do. I wonder if my faith is superficial because my life is easy. I'd like to say that it isn't superficial, that my faith is an intrinsic part of my being. Maybe I'll find an answer to that question when I move to Central Africa (or India, or Indonesia, or Pakistan...). Or, maybe this is a time when God cultivates my soul and my heart and my character to be a steadfast and faithful servant to Him in the future.
Sometimes I feel wilted like a little flower that was deprived of water for a time, a flower that reaches for the sun in hopes of being revitalized to live as she were meant to.
And sometimes I feel like a heroine in the making.
Most of all, I feel human.
I wrote the following as I dreamt of a better tomorrow, as I prayed for my dear friend Marie-Claire in the Congo, as I allowed God to wash over my thoughts.
The Curve of the Earth
Every line, every arc
in focus, total clarity
complete mystery
imponderable strength
fear and questioning
deeper than the beat of a broken heart
still living, still moving
still pressing forth
a flower, reaching
slightly wilted
stretching beyond itself
gaining strength
from the warming sun
her hope rising
from the curve of the earth
as the days press forward
and her children
growing, learning
reminders of a blissful time
and anticipation for the better.
This photo I took in Santa Barbara. The little, slightly wilted jasmine flower just south of center and perfectly focused from stem to each petal was some source of inspiration for this piece. I look at this photo often. It takes me to another place in my heart, another adventure that exists within my own hope.
All the while I feel trapped, stuck in a little eddy of life soon to be spat out further downstream on the next adventure. I'm trying to learn from the eddy.
Each day I focus on being content with where I am. Each day I think about faith and hope and wonder if I would have them if I were a Congolese woman. If I were enslaved in prostitution. If I were living a life in bondage. If I had less than I do. I wonder if my faith is superficial because my life is easy. I'd like to say that it isn't superficial, that my faith is an intrinsic part of my being. Maybe I'll find an answer to that question when I move to Central Africa (or India, or Indonesia, or Pakistan...). Or, maybe this is a time when God cultivates my soul and my heart and my character to be a steadfast and faithful servant to Him in the future.
Sometimes I feel wilted like a little flower that was deprived of water for a time, a flower that reaches for the sun in hopes of being revitalized to live as she were meant to.
And sometimes I feel like a heroine in the making.
Most of all, I feel human.
I wrote the following as I dreamt of a better tomorrow, as I prayed for my dear friend Marie-Claire in the Congo, as I allowed God to wash over my thoughts.
The Curve of the Earth
Every line, every arc
in focus, total clarity
complete mystery
imponderable strength
fear and questioning
deeper than the beat of a broken heart
still living, still moving
still pressing forth
a flower, reaching
slightly wilted
stretching beyond itself
gaining strength
from the warming sun
her hope rising
from the curve of the earth
as the days press forward
and her children
growing, learning
reminders of a blissful time
and anticipation for the better.
This photo I took in Santa Barbara. The little, slightly wilted jasmine flower just south of center and perfectly focused from stem to each petal was some source of inspiration for this piece. I look at this photo often. It takes me to another place in my heart, another adventure that exists within my own hope.
Friday, June 18, 2010
And I call this place "shalom"
Today I made my way along a familiar, dusty road to a place my heart finds peace. I go there often when the sun has melted away the snow. I leave my phone and iPod behind. I bring only a pen, paper and my bible. Sometimes, if I'm lucky to have enough time to be there a while, I bring sustenance. This was a day I carried every one of those things in. Time. Journals. Bible. Pens and pencils. Fruit. Water. Whole grain crackers. I didn't expect much of an epiphany, for I went to listen and to let my mind rest from thoughts and worries. I went there for silence.
As I walked, I pretended not to see the signs that read, "Please stay on the trail. Help preserve the habitat." Today I was only one person in a world not crowded by trail riders, kayakers and tourists. I traversed deep into the reaches of the meadow where I could see only mountain grass, the towering and seemingly protective trees that line this small valley, the top of the lava flow that lies just beyond the western bank of the river - only a sliver of which I could see - and between the restless clouds the occasional snow-capped mountain.
It took me a while to adjust. Everything was quiet and undisturbed at first - until I was used to being alone. And then the ants and the bees and the creeping, crawling little bugs began to wage their curiosity upon me. It was almost as if they wanted to be friends. I gently brushed them aside until their interest abated. For a while I wrote and allowed my heart to meander in different directions.
And then, oh and then, I did what everyone should do and do often: I laid down and sunk my body deep into the grass. My entire being took in every single thing about this place that I love. The somewhat pungent smell of grass and dirt. The scent of the impossible to describe cleanliness of nature - which, in and of itself is revitalizing. My limbs tingled with joy. I grazed the backs of my hands on the countless blades of grass around me. I watched the clouds moving deliberately across the ever-blue sky above the meadow. I listened to the wind and its ever-changing moods: the roar through the mountains, the rushing above the trees, the breeze that blew just above me, tickling my nose and the tips of the grass. The wind left nothing untouched behind it. I wondered with the wind blowing as it was if I was threatened at all by the darkness of the clouds as the moved closer. I wondered if the dry dirt would soon accept a reprieve from the warm day.
I realized in that moment something about this place: it is rather paradoxical. The serenity and stillness apart from the noise of the world has the ability to take over one's soul and give one the ability to be silent...and yet it is teeming with life and movement which draws the deepest part of the soul awake in ways nothing else can. The best word to describe this place may well be shalom: completeness, peace. The way things were intended. I begin to wonder if anyone else has experienced it the way I do...I can only hope.
As I walked, I pretended not to see the signs that read, "Please stay on the trail. Help preserve the habitat." Today I was only one person in a world not crowded by trail riders, kayakers and tourists. I traversed deep into the reaches of the meadow where I could see only mountain grass, the towering and seemingly protective trees that line this small valley, the top of the lava flow that lies just beyond the western bank of the river - only a sliver of which I could see - and between the restless clouds the occasional snow-capped mountain.
It took me a while to adjust. Everything was quiet and undisturbed at first - until I was used to being alone. And then the ants and the bees and the creeping, crawling little bugs began to wage their curiosity upon me. It was almost as if they wanted to be friends. I gently brushed them aside until their interest abated. For a while I wrote and allowed my heart to meander in different directions.
And then, oh and then, I did what everyone should do and do often: I laid down and sunk my body deep into the grass. My entire being took in every single thing about this place that I love. The somewhat pungent smell of grass and dirt. The scent of the impossible to describe cleanliness of nature - which, in and of itself is revitalizing. My limbs tingled with joy. I grazed the backs of my hands on the countless blades of grass around me. I watched the clouds moving deliberately across the ever-blue sky above the meadow. I listened to the wind and its ever-changing moods: the roar through the mountains, the rushing above the trees, the breeze that blew just above me, tickling my nose and the tips of the grass. The wind left nothing untouched behind it. I wondered with the wind blowing as it was if I was threatened at all by the darkness of the clouds as the moved closer. I wondered if the dry dirt would soon accept a reprieve from the warm day.
I realized in that moment something about this place: it is rather paradoxical. The serenity and stillness apart from the noise of the world has the ability to take over one's soul and give one the ability to be silent...and yet it is teeming with life and movement which draws the deepest part of the soul awake in ways nothing else can. The best word to describe this place may well be shalom: completeness, peace. The way things were intended. I begin to wonder if anyone else has experienced it the way I do...I can only hope.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Just write something...
drowning.exhausted.challenged.hopeful.irritated.excited.antisocial.scared
it's not the has been. it's not the could be. it's not the could have been.
it's wonder. it's maturing. it's love. it's dreaming. it's difficult.
it is the heart beat.
it's wonder. it's maturing. it's love. it's dreaming. it's difficult.
it is the heart beat.
these words...if only I had a canvas and a brilliant set of oils...
The past few months have nearly slaughtered me. I'm content, yet ready to leave. I'm optimistic, yet scared. I'm being challenged in wild ways by the creator of the universe. I'm being challenged to stick to it, to persevere in what I know is right, in what I know I should do. Every day I must choose to be persistent through the hard stuff.
Honestly, I've taken a bit of a hiatus from writing. I've taken a break from art. I've taken a break to get my head back on straight. I'm learning the art of discipline. I'm learning the art of focus. I'm learning the art of investment (not the Wall Street kind). I'm learning to listen intentionally to God, not just yammer away toward heaven until I fall asleep.
I have nothing to say that would arrest you out of the quick skim you are taking of this blog. I have nothing to say that will enlighten you in a particular area of your life. I have nothing to say that will make this smattering of thoughts worthwhile. As well, I have made zero progress in any writing practice in the last month.
It's a combination of both the lack of discipline and inspiration to write that begs the question: what does God want me to say?
This my friends, is why I have been silent. And if I continue to be so, pray that it is a disciplined and intentional silence.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Worth
Worth: an essential and distinguishing attribute of something or someone.
Worth. How do you define worth? In yourself? In your life? In another human being?
Something in my life shifted - and I remember the exact moment - when I learned the invaluable lesson regarding the worth of another human being. Suddenly my life was no longer about me. Suddenly I realized I had to give some of my dreams away (trusting they would come back around somehow) in order to pursue the truth of this new understanding. I couldn't just sit back and allow life to happen, I couldn't just pursue my own goals, I now felt the excitement of helping pursue dreams that belonged to others, dreams I don't know, dreams that haven't even been birthed.
To those of you that were willing and able to participate in my last post, thank you. Whether you realize it or not, you have justice in you. You have love. You have decided that someone outside of yourself has worth. That is beautiful. Thank you, whoever you were, for the amazing help that you gave. It matters.
To those of you still seeking ways to get involved with something, here's a thought:
Recently I joined a program through Women for Women International which assists women in war-torn regions with financial aid, job training as well as educates her about her rights and her worth. I'm still waiting for her name (it takes about a month), but I'm already praying for her. A couple of rad things about this program for the sponsors:
1. You get to choose the country of the woman you sponsor. Maybe that seems a little superficial, but think of it this way: if you have a heart for women in Afghanistan, God has placed that specific compassion there for a reason. Through the specificity of this part of the program you have the opportunity to ACT on what God has begun in you. And really, if we all do justice for the sole reason of feeling like we SHOULD (and sometimes that is appropriate), the authenticity and beauty dissipates - or it is never there in the first place. There's something to be said for a calling on your heart. Think about that.
2. You have the ability to interact with her. It's an opportunity to cross oceans and cultural lines and many other barriers to tell her because of God you love and value her. You're able to show that through your financial support as well as in the time you take to write to her. Admittedly, this part makes me the most nervous. I'm going to write a letter to a woman in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Me. I will be writing her letters. A white, privileged woman who has never faced a tragedy even similar to hers...what in the world do I talk about? Well, that's something I am sure God has all worked out.
Check out the website and let it simmer...or just do it.
Happy Friday, friends.
Worth. How do you define worth? In yourself? In your life? In another human being?
Something in my life shifted - and I remember the exact moment - when I learned the invaluable lesson regarding the worth of another human being. Suddenly my life was no longer about me. Suddenly I realized I had to give some of my dreams away (trusting they would come back around somehow) in order to pursue the truth of this new understanding. I couldn't just sit back and allow life to happen, I couldn't just pursue my own goals, I now felt the excitement of helping pursue dreams that belonged to others, dreams I don't know, dreams that haven't even been birthed.
To those of you that were willing and able to participate in my last post, thank you. Whether you realize it or not, you have justice in you. You have love. You have decided that someone outside of yourself has worth. That is beautiful. Thank you, whoever you were, for the amazing help that you gave. It matters.
To those of you still seeking ways to get involved with something, here's a thought:
Recently I joined a program through Women for Women International which assists women in war-torn regions with financial aid, job training as well as educates her about her rights and her worth. I'm still waiting for her name (it takes about a month), but I'm already praying for her. A couple of rad things about this program for the sponsors:
1. You get to choose the country of the woman you sponsor. Maybe that seems a little superficial, but think of it this way: if you have a heart for women in Afghanistan, God has placed that specific compassion there for a reason. Through the specificity of this part of the program you have the opportunity to ACT on what God has begun in you. And really, if we all do justice for the sole reason of feeling like we SHOULD (and sometimes that is appropriate), the authenticity and beauty dissipates - or it is never there in the first place. There's something to be said for a calling on your heart. Think about that.
2. You have the ability to interact with her. It's an opportunity to cross oceans and cultural lines and many other barriers to tell her because of God you love and value her. You're able to show that through your financial support as well as in the time you take to write to her. Admittedly, this part makes me the most nervous. I'm going to write a letter to a woman in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Me. I will be writing her letters. A white, privileged woman who has never faced a tragedy even similar to hers...what in the world do I talk about? Well, that's something I am sure God has all worked out.
Check out the website and let it simmer...or just do it.
Happy Friday, friends.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
If you have the means...please help.
Hey all, just received this email from a friend who is headed to Congo Thursday to pick up their newly adopted son.
There is a collection bin at the Antioch Church offices until 2:00 PM today, April 7th. If you have additional baby formula or a few moments to drop by some spare cash you may have please do so.
376 SW Bluff Drive, Suite 8
Bend, OR 97702
----
I want to apologize for the short notice, but Kristen and I just got off the phone with our lawyer concerning our trip to the DRC this Thursday. Briefly, Kristen and I will be traveling to the DRC (Kinshasa) to pick up our newly adopted son, Bonheur, this week. Our lawyer informed us of a recent crisis within three orphanages that has just developed.
Apparently, there has been a recent formula shortage within Kinshasa, driving the price of formula up to astronomical prices. As a result, the infants of these orphanages are being fed with water and a spoonful of sugar. Many of the children are not expected to survive. Our itinerary is being altered so that we will be able to deliver formula and food bought at a local market to these three inter-city orphanages, one of which is solely for infants with AIDS.
If there is anything that could be done to get the word out to the Antioch body, it would be much appreciated. Kristen and I will be going to Costco this Wednesday to buy as much formula as our luggage will carry; any additional money will be spent at a local market in Kinshasa to buy food for the orphanages next week.
It is comforting to know that formula and money for basic food necessities will be in the hands of their caretakers within a week.
Cameron
There is a collection bin at the Antioch Church offices until 2:00 PM today, April 7th. If you have additional baby formula or a few moments to drop by some spare cash you may have please do so.
376 SW Bluff Drive, Suite 8
Bend, OR 97702
----
I want to apologize for the short notice, but Kristen and I just got off the phone with our lawyer concerning our trip to the DRC this Thursday. Briefly, Kristen and I will be traveling to the DRC (Kinshasa) to pick up our newly adopted son, Bonheur, this week. Our lawyer informed us of a recent crisis within three orphanages that has just developed.
Apparently, there has been a recent formula shortage within Kinshasa, driving the price of formula up to astronomical prices. As a result, the infants of these orphanages are being fed with water and a spoonful of sugar. Many of the children are not expected to survive. Our itinerary is being altered so that we will be able to deliver formula and food bought at a local market to these three inter-city orphanages, one of which is solely for infants with AIDS.
If there is anything that could be done to get the word out to the Antioch body, it would be much appreciated. Kristen and I will be going to Costco this Wednesday to buy as much formula as our luggage will carry; any additional money will be spent at a local market in Kinshasa to buy food for the orphanages next week.
It is comforting to know that formula and money for basic food necessities will be in the hands of their caretakers within a week.
Cameron
Saturday, April 3, 2010
flurry
something's amiss
it's simply out of order
even my fingers lay
listless on the keys
if they were to move
I worry they may be
brittle and crumble
for what's amiss
is deep in my soul
and that soul is
deeply connected
to every word that
escapes me no matter
the form, whether
spoken or written
or typed or sang
or whispered -
even thought of
I often feel lost in
who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and when lost I tend
to drift along hoping
for a flurry of the soul
for here I am
bewildered and left
to fend questions I
do not have answers to
and lost I find I'm
asked to hold a brave face
to appear indifferent
for emotion mixed with
confusion is surely
an uncommon taboo
and why oh why would
you possibly feel lost
in a world where you are
fortunate to have
access to anything simply
to make your dreams
come alive
and yet...
and yet I'm often lost
in who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and for now I'm out to see
if there's anything alive
inside of me and I will
drift along until I find
a flurry in my soul
that speaks deep truth
and love and justice
and mercy and understanding
and all of those things
our souls seem to gravitate
toward for somewhere
we must know truth
for it is built into the
unswerving beat of our hearts.
When I started school last fall I had just a smidgen of direction. I wondered how long it would take before things began narrowing into what I really felt like God wanted me to do with such a fancy little piece of paper. I'm sure as heck not doing it for the "oohs" and "ahhs" (or even the "what the heck does that degree even mean?"). I'm doing it because I'm passionate about justice. I'm passionate about doing justice through communication. I'm passionate about doing justice through my love of writing. That, I believe, is God's beautiful gift to me.
Of course through this season of discovering this passion of mine I feel a little part of me has died. Amidst the research I've been doing about injustice, the stories I've heard, the documentaries I've watched, and even reading some parts of the bible I've found my outlook on this world has dimmed. Honestly? It's probably for the best.
...But I miss the part of me that was unwaveringly optimistic. I miss the part of me that would wake up and never lack hope or faith in what this world could be (but never will be). That part of me, however, has been replaced with a firm belief that eventually, justice will be had. Eventually my life will have fulfilled a purpose greater than I can imagine - not because I want to be great, but because I want injustice to cease. I want justice for the woman who's been raped and birthed a child that will every.damn.day remind her of a horror she lives. I want justice for her child who will quite possibly be neglected and unloved for the sheer fact that he or she exists. I want justice for the little girl and woman that's beaten and drugged and "broken in" to become a prostitute and trafficked around the globe without even a glimmer of hope. I want justice for the slave. I want justice for the oppressed. These people have names and faces and horrific stories...somehow, some way, we must hear them and allow them resonate in our souls that we may do something to help.
No, I cannot fix everything. No, I may not be able to fix anything. Ever. That I understand. I cry for that. However, I will do what I can do and that is write, speak, educate, empower. I know now after a few months of even deeper searching and research that my field has narrowed - even slightly - to women. I don't know what that means. God does. I can rest in that. I also know that doing justice permeates the whole of my life. It is finishing a degree. It is writing. It is this silly, unknown little blog. It is the book I am writing. It is the research that I pour over and cry about. It is the daily goings on. It is drawing near to God.
A note of thanks to my big sister - the one that's known me the most consistently for the longest period of time in one particular place. Thank you for helping me see my soul and my heart in a beautiful, God-ordained way that I might have otherwise passed by. You are a gem (more than the server at the bar who poured us delicious beers...so much more). Love.
it's simply out of order
even my fingers lay
listless on the keys
if they were to move
I worry they may be
brittle and crumble
for what's amiss
is deep in my soul
and that soul is
deeply connected
to every word that
escapes me no matter
the form, whether
spoken or written
or typed or sang
or whispered -
even thought of
I often feel lost in
who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and when lost I tend
to drift along hoping
for a flurry of the soul
for here I am
bewildered and left
to fend questions I
do not have answers to
and lost I find I'm
asked to hold a brave face
to appear indifferent
for emotion mixed with
confusion is surely
an uncommon taboo
and why oh why would
you possibly feel lost
in a world where you are
fortunate to have
access to anything simply
to make your dreams
come alive
and yet...
and yet I'm often lost
in who I want to be or who
I think I'm meant to be
and for now I'm out to see
if there's anything alive
inside of me and I will
drift along until I find
a flurry in my soul
that speaks deep truth
and love and justice
and mercy and understanding
and all of those things
our souls seem to gravitate
toward for somewhere
we must know truth
for it is built into the
unswerving beat of our hearts.
When I started school last fall I had just a smidgen of direction. I wondered how long it would take before things began narrowing into what I really felt like God wanted me to do with such a fancy little piece of paper. I'm sure as heck not doing it for the "oohs" and "ahhs" (or even the "what the heck does that degree even mean?"). I'm doing it because I'm passionate about justice. I'm passionate about doing justice through communication. I'm passionate about doing justice through my love of writing. That, I believe, is God's beautiful gift to me.
Of course through this season of discovering this passion of mine I feel a little part of me has died. Amidst the research I've been doing about injustice, the stories I've heard, the documentaries I've watched, and even reading some parts of the bible I've found my outlook on this world has dimmed. Honestly? It's probably for the best.
...But I miss the part of me that was unwaveringly optimistic. I miss the part of me that would wake up and never lack hope or faith in what this world could be (but never will be). That part of me, however, has been replaced with a firm belief that eventually, justice will be had. Eventually my life will have fulfilled a purpose greater than I can imagine - not because I want to be great, but because I want injustice to cease. I want justice for the woman who's been raped and birthed a child that will every.damn.day remind her of a horror she lives. I want justice for her child who will quite possibly be neglected and unloved for the sheer fact that he or she exists. I want justice for the little girl and woman that's beaten and drugged and "broken in" to become a prostitute and trafficked around the globe without even a glimmer of hope. I want justice for the slave. I want justice for the oppressed. These people have names and faces and horrific stories...somehow, some way, we must hear them and allow them resonate in our souls that we may do something to help.
No, I cannot fix everything. No, I may not be able to fix anything. Ever. That I understand. I cry for that. However, I will do what I can do and that is write, speak, educate, empower. I know now after a few months of even deeper searching and research that my field has narrowed - even slightly - to women. I don't know what that means. God does. I can rest in that. I also know that doing justice permeates the whole of my life. It is finishing a degree. It is writing. It is this silly, unknown little blog. It is the book I am writing. It is the research that I pour over and cry about. It is the daily goings on. It is drawing near to God.
A note of thanks to my big sister - the one that's known me the most consistently for the longest period of time in one particular place. Thank you for helping me see my soul and my heart in a beautiful, God-ordained way that I might have otherwise passed by. You are a gem (more than the server at the bar who poured us delicious beers...so much more). Love.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Decisions, Redemption
"But to deviate from the truth for the sake of some prospect of hope of our own can never be wise, however slight that deviation may be. It is not our judgment of the situation which can show us what is wise, but only the truth of the Word of God. Here alone lies the promise of God's faithfulness and help. It will always be true that the wisest course for the disciple is always to abide solely by the Word of God in all simplicity." - Dietrich Bonhoeffer
To the outside world I've had a relatively carefree week. The winter term is over, spring break is here, exciting things are happening and I'm generally optimistic (as usual). Inwardly, however, I've been contemplative and reflective over the last couple of years of my life and where I'm headed now. It's just that time of year, I guess.
I'm making decisions for my life that are important; decisions that are heavy and include consequences - not necessarily bad - that I can actually foresee. I am making decisions much differently than I did when I was just a few years younger. Those years, apparently, add character (or something like that, right?). I'm moving to California next year. That's a big decision. I'm writing a book. That's a big decision. I'm doing things for me - not things society or family or friends or people expect me to do. Most importantly: I'm doing things for God, for the One I put my faith into.
I've come out of this state of fear and uncertainty with my faith into a place where every day I make a decision about it. Every day I choose to look deeper into God's heart for His people and trust He's got a bigger plan than I know. Every day I choose to believe the bible and the promises that God wrote into it. Every day I choose to serve Him and focus my thoughts toward Him. Every day I choose to see what He wants for me. Every day I choose to see the people around me as loved and out of that I try to be a light for God to them. I choose to offer the hope that I know. That's my choice. It's totally not easy. Some days I dislike these choices, but the beauty that my heart knows because of these choices is nothing I would trade. I'm starting to understand this "commitment" thing.
And because of this decision to choose God - although sometimes sporadically - I see my life becoming something it wasn't before. I see fruit of the mercy God graciously gave to me. I used to be broken. I used to make bad decisions without anticipating consequences as I should (and I'm sure I unwittingly still do). I see the beauty of my family and community in my life. I see the beauty of honesty and love through difficulties and the daily grind. I see, via my faith, things in my life that I intentionally direct toward God coming back to Him and the way He intended life to be - I see redemption.
To the outside world I've had a relatively carefree week. The winter term is over, spring break is here, exciting things are happening and I'm generally optimistic (as usual). Inwardly, however, I've been contemplative and reflective over the last couple of years of my life and where I'm headed now. It's just that time of year, I guess.
I'm making decisions for my life that are important; decisions that are heavy and include consequences - not necessarily bad - that I can actually foresee. I am making decisions much differently than I did when I was just a few years younger. Those years, apparently, add character (or something like that, right?). I'm moving to California next year. That's a big decision. I'm writing a book. That's a big decision. I'm doing things for me - not things society or family or friends or people expect me to do. Most importantly: I'm doing things for God, for the One I put my faith into.
I've come out of this state of fear and uncertainty with my faith into a place where every day I make a decision about it. Every day I choose to look deeper into God's heart for His people and trust He's got a bigger plan than I know. Every day I choose to believe the bible and the promises that God wrote into it. Every day I choose to serve Him and focus my thoughts toward Him. Every day I choose to see what He wants for me. Every day I choose to see the people around me as loved and out of that I try to be a light for God to them. I choose to offer the hope that I know. That's my choice. It's totally not easy. Some days I dislike these choices, but the beauty that my heart knows because of these choices is nothing I would trade. I'm starting to understand this "commitment" thing.
And because of this decision to choose God - although sometimes sporadically - I see my life becoming something it wasn't before. I see fruit of the mercy God graciously gave to me. I used to be broken. I used to make bad decisions without anticipating consequences as I should (and I'm sure I unwittingly still do). I see the beauty of my family and community in my life. I see the beauty of honesty and love through difficulties and the daily grind. I see, via my faith, things in my life that I intentionally direct toward God coming back to Him and the way He intended life to be - I see redemption.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Cutting Room Floor
I often feel I need the answers
to the deepest longings of my soul,
the unknown, the unknowable
I search them out as if they sit perched
on a lovely tree branch around the corner
just beyond the bend of the path
my feet happen to be walking upon
I often feel my heart beating to
escape the fortress so carefully built
to protect it during times of war
and this, my dear, is not a war
tis but a dance of life,
brimming with promise
and possibility and adventure
this my dear, is not a war
and vulnerability is not a crime
I often feel terrified of becoming
what I have been, something I once was
not to any true fault of my own
but a commodity, a thing for simple pleasure
it is not the way intended
but wouldn't it be beautiful
to shed that reasoning and simply be
I often feel the residue of cynicism
darkening my expectations of what could be -
the burns and the scars have not gone away
and I wonder if they ever will
and can I be free of or redeemed from
something that wounded the core of my being
so horribly and thoughtlessly
And yet I often feel hope
and I desire trust above all
to live a fulfilling, awe-inspiring life
that speaks of Greater things
that declares love and freedom
redemption and potential
that nothing we are is thrown carelessly
to the cutting room floor
to the deepest longings of my soul,
the unknown, the unknowable
I search them out as if they sit perched
on a lovely tree branch around the corner
just beyond the bend of the path
my feet happen to be walking upon
I often feel my heart beating to
escape the fortress so carefully built
to protect it during times of war
and this, my dear, is not a war
tis but a dance of life,
brimming with promise
and possibility and adventure
this my dear, is not a war
and vulnerability is not a crime
I often feel terrified of becoming
what I have been, something I once was
not to any true fault of my own
but a commodity, a thing for simple pleasure
it is not the way intended
but wouldn't it be beautiful
to shed that reasoning and simply be
I often feel the residue of cynicism
darkening my expectations of what could be -
the burns and the scars have not gone away
and I wonder if they ever will
and can I be free of or redeemed from
something that wounded the core of my being
so horribly and thoughtlessly
And yet I often feel hope
and I desire trust above all
to live a fulfilling, awe-inspiring life
that speaks of Greater things
that declares love and freedom
redemption and potential
that nothing we are is thrown carelessly
to the cutting room floor
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A Remarkable Turn
My life has taken a sudden, remarkable turn.
A couple of days ago I hit my epiphany that set my heart at ease about a number of things: school, desires, where I am headed after school, etc. It set my heart at peace so much so that I was able to hear God telling me to move in a new and radical way. Before I delve into that I need to explain a little bit about my life pre-epiphany.
Things pre-epiphany were new and exciting. I was back in school, working hard, getting into a groove of studying and trying to balance the rest of my already settled life of friends, family and skiing. School was challenging - more so than I expected. The bible study I had started to lead was rocking my face off. And yet, somewhere below the surface I was not at rest. My writing was inhibited and I couldn't figure out why (though I'm grateful for that: in order to combat this writer's block I started some new habits and practices that are truly helping me refine my abilities). My "writer's block" was the biggest inclination, however, that something in my soul was amiss.
Last week I had two conversations two days apart with two people who live in different states. I admire these folks greatly and both of them - darn near verbatim - told me the same thing: if I'm to get a degree in Intercultural Communications I should think about transferring to a larger and more diverse school for my upper level courses. They proposed being in a small town has the potential to be toxic to my education. They were in no way saying that the profs here in Bend are under-qualified or that my degree wouldn't mean much from such a small school in a small town. Put simply: it would likely be a healthy change for me as a person to head to a bigger city to challenge me personally as well as in my education.
When things like these conversations repeat themselves I take notice. I would be hard-pressed to let this particular instance slip by. I requested information from a couple of schools within an 8 hour driving radius hoping first that I wouldn't have to go too far from home. I still wasn't convinced of leaving Bend. I always imagined I would finish school close to my family and friends and maybe even get married before leaving to find a job with an international relief organization. I love Bend. I love this community. You couldn't have talked me into leaving if you tried...
...until one fateful morning at Thump.
I was tootling around online looking at schools on the West Coast and I happened across the Pepperdine Universtiy website. As soon as I clicked on the page for the International/Intercultural Communications Studies program and skimmed through the description something deep in my soul clicked. The program in and of itself is positively astounding (as it should be for a school like Pepperdine). I realized in that moment I would be leaving Bend and I was excited.
Pepperdine is my first choice. There are a lot of unknowns at this point: finances, the date when I can transfer into the program (it will be Spring or Fall of 2011), if I am even accepted, etc. I have a handful of schools I will apply for as backup options (Westmont and Biola are a couple of them).
After this rather quick turn of events I sat down with yet another amazing friend of mine for dinner. We got on the topic of what I called my "writer's block" and the potential of that feeling being more than just, well, "writer's block". As we discussed this I realized it might have been instead an underlying dissatisfaction with certain aspects of life - things which I still cannot put my finger on - only one of which I know for certain.
There is, in this town, an identity which I cannot escape. I've tried with all of my might to make the switch from business owner and wedding gown designer to student, writer and future advocate. And yet week after week I encounter someone who will wonder "Why? Really - a writer?" or I'll get inquiry on top of inquiry for new clients or potential business partnerships. It's all that marketing - it's really starting to pay off! Ironic! ...burdensome.
It sounds ridiculous but it is exhausting trying to escape that identity. Yes, I loved my work. I loved silk and lace, I loved my clients who glowed with excitement, I loved putting together a business and watching the different aspects work together as a functioning whole, I loved all of it. Until, that is, I realized my deeper passion was for the oppressed and the potential for me to use my voice as a means to bring injustice to light.
So I find freedom in escaping this identity and moving forward in what I truly believe God has called me to. I find freedom in leaving.
A couple of days ago I hit my epiphany that set my heart at ease about a number of things: school, desires, where I am headed after school, etc. It set my heart at peace so much so that I was able to hear God telling me to move in a new and radical way. Before I delve into that I need to explain a little bit about my life pre-epiphany.
Things pre-epiphany were new and exciting. I was back in school, working hard, getting into a groove of studying and trying to balance the rest of my already settled life of friends, family and skiing. School was challenging - more so than I expected. The bible study I had started to lead was rocking my face off. And yet, somewhere below the surface I was not at rest. My writing was inhibited and I couldn't figure out why (though I'm grateful for that: in order to combat this writer's block I started some new habits and practices that are truly helping me refine my abilities). My "writer's block" was the biggest inclination, however, that something in my soul was amiss.
Last week I had two conversations two days apart with two people who live in different states. I admire these folks greatly and both of them - darn near verbatim - told me the same thing: if I'm to get a degree in Intercultural Communications I should think about transferring to a larger and more diverse school for my upper level courses. They proposed being in a small town has the potential to be toxic to my education. They were in no way saying that the profs here in Bend are under-qualified or that my degree wouldn't mean much from such a small school in a small town. Put simply: it would likely be a healthy change for me as a person to head to a bigger city to challenge me personally as well as in my education.
When things like these conversations repeat themselves I take notice. I would be hard-pressed to let this particular instance slip by. I requested information from a couple of schools within an 8 hour driving radius hoping first that I wouldn't have to go too far from home. I still wasn't convinced of leaving Bend. I always imagined I would finish school close to my family and friends and maybe even get married before leaving to find a job with an international relief organization. I love Bend. I love this community. You couldn't have talked me into leaving if you tried...
...until one fateful morning at Thump.
I was tootling around online looking at schools on the West Coast and I happened across the Pepperdine Universtiy website. As soon as I clicked on the page for the International/Intercultural Communications Studies program and skimmed through the description something deep in my soul clicked. The program in and of itself is positively astounding (as it should be for a school like Pepperdine). I realized in that moment I would be leaving Bend and I was excited.
Pepperdine is my first choice. There are a lot of unknowns at this point: finances, the date when I can transfer into the program (it will be Spring or Fall of 2011), if I am even accepted, etc. I have a handful of schools I will apply for as backup options (Westmont and Biola are a couple of them).
After this rather quick turn of events I sat down with yet another amazing friend of mine for dinner. We got on the topic of what I called my "writer's block" and the potential of that feeling being more than just, well, "writer's block". As we discussed this I realized it might have been instead an underlying dissatisfaction with certain aspects of life - things which I still cannot put my finger on - only one of which I know for certain.
There is, in this town, an identity which I cannot escape. I've tried with all of my might to make the switch from business owner and wedding gown designer to student, writer and future advocate. And yet week after week I encounter someone who will wonder "Why? Really - a writer?" or I'll get inquiry on top of inquiry for new clients or potential business partnerships. It's all that marketing - it's really starting to pay off! Ironic! ...burdensome.
It sounds ridiculous but it is exhausting trying to escape that identity. Yes, I loved my work. I loved silk and lace, I loved my clients who glowed with excitement, I loved putting together a business and watching the different aspects work together as a functioning whole, I loved all of it. Until, that is, I realized my deeper passion was for the oppressed and the potential for me to use my voice as a means to bring injustice to light.
So I find freedom in escaping this identity and moving forward in what I truly believe God has called me to. I find freedom in leaving.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Ephiphany
I came to a simple, beautiful epiphany yesterday - which shows you just how young I still am as a follower of Christ. I've been praying for one thing for 7 years and God has yet to answer me. I realized in my frustration over the past week that there's been a disconnect in this prayer over the years. I know I haven't truly surrendered this to God but I've been trying; I simply don't know what submission in this respect looks like. More often than not our relationship with God is not tangible or easy to peg - obviously.
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
That little phrase, "pray without ceasing" is something I haven't exactly practiced. Even this prayer of 7 years has been intermittent and lacking fervency. However, I realized as I was praying about this last night that the simple act of persistent prayer is about a continual "letting go" of the subject at hand and the discipline of the posture of my heart in the reality that God is the Creator and I am His created.
This was my beautiful epiphany which I will now begin to discipline myself in.
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. -1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
That little phrase, "pray without ceasing" is something I haven't exactly practiced. Even this prayer of 7 years has been intermittent and lacking fervency. However, I realized as I was praying about this last night that the simple act of persistent prayer is about a continual "letting go" of the subject at hand and the discipline of the posture of my heart in the reality that God is the Creator and I am His created.
This was my beautiful epiphany which I will now begin to discipline myself in.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thoughts on the Big Two Five
slow reflections coursing through my mind
joy
heartache
gladness
melodic enthusiasm beating through my heart
anticipation
anxiety
wonderment
a twinge of excitement embraces my toes
curiosity
destiny
adventure
faith that envelopes the three
gratitude
praise
life
Next week marks the big 25 for me. Whoopty-doo. It's just another year, really. As the years pass the markers get a little less exciting. I can vote, I can buy a pack o ciggies, I can fight for my country, I can drink a beer after work, and this year my car insurance gets a little less expensive and I can rent a car. Thrilling.
I genuinely love my birthday, though. It's a time I can guilt trip my friends and family into being with me and not feel guilty about it. It's a time that I use to look into their faces and see what a beautiful impact they've made on my life; I couldn't do it without them.
I'm grateful for where I am. I'm thankful for the mistakes and successes, the joys and the times of grief. I'm glad that God continues to show me more of Who He Is as He shows me His faithfulness. I'm pleased to say that adventures are always on the horizon, whether they are a life change such as school or a random night time ski trip with a friend. I'm excited to enjoy the years ahead as I learn to deeply love others in a way that pleases God. I'm scared of some aspects of the life God has marvelously planned out for me; I realize it will not be easy. Like C.S. Lewis said, "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
Pain has become something I fear less. Joy has become more difficult to grasp, but something deeply treasured and sought out. Life at any stage I admire with great intensity. Hearts lost in pain or filled with hope are the truth we live. Grace must abound, it was not created for us to simply receive. Human connection is poignant. Community is weighted more than gold. Success is not to be ours, but glory for God and service to Him. I regret nothing, instead I choose to be thankful for everything. I have yet to see certain dreams come to life, but I am not sad they seem to be delayed; I choose to wait in hopeful expectation.
Life has three beautiful parts: the has been, the will be, and the moments we choose how to fill now. I hope my heart continually remembers the importance of these.
joy
heartache
gladness
melodic enthusiasm beating through my heart
anticipation
anxiety
wonderment
a twinge of excitement embraces my toes
curiosity
destiny
adventure
faith that envelopes the three
gratitude
praise
life
Next week marks the big 25 for me. Whoopty-doo. It's just another year, really. As the years pass the markers get a little less exciting. I can vote, I can buy a pack o ciggies, I can fight for my country, I can drink a beer after work, and this year my car insurance gets a little less expensive and I can rent a car. Thrilling.
I genuinely love my birthday, though. It's a time I can guilt trip my friends and family into being with me and not feel guilty about it. It's a time that I use to look into their faces and see what a beautiful impact they've made on my life; I couldn't do it without them.
I'm grateful for where I am. I'm thankful for the mistakes and successes, the joys and the times of grief. I'm glad that God continues to show me more of Who He Is as He shows me His faithfulness. I'm pleased to say that adventures are always on the horizon, whether they are a life change such as school or a random night time ski trip with a friend. I'm excited to enjoy the years ahead as I learn to deeply love others in a way that pleases God. I'm scared of some aspects of the life God has marvelously planned out for me; I realize it will not be easy. Like C.S. Lewis said, "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
Pain has become something I fear less. Joy has become more difficult to grasp, but something deeply treasured and sought out. Life at any stage I admire with great intensity. Hearts lost in pain or filled with hope are the truth we live. Grace must abound, it was not created for us to simply receive. Human connection is poignant. Community is weighted more than gold. Success is not to be ours, but glory for God and service to Him. I regret nothing, instead I choose to be thankful for everything. I have yet to see certain dreams come to life, but I am not sad they seem to be delayed; I choose to wait in hopeful expectation.
Life has three beautiful parts: the has been, the will be, and the moments we choose how to fill now. I hope my heart continually remembers the importance of these.
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