While shopping for guitars...

So, today I went and got my dog vaccinated in a part of town I've never been in before. Then I thought, "I'm hungry", so I stopped at a Starbucks. Then, I saw that there was a music store right in that same complex, so I decided to go peek at a couple of guitars. Or five. And I got a lesson in something else while there. The nice man, Greg led me back to the guitar room. Perfectly lit, wondrously humidified and temperaturized with that wood smell that makes a guitar player's heart melt. I love sticking my nose in a solid wood guitar. Amazing.
After convincing him that I wasn't looking for a $500 guitar, he led me over to the Taylors and Martins. This is more like it. We got down a couple of the ones in the $2,500-$3,500 price range. I sat on the stool, he plugged me in and I played away. He asked me for my first impressions. I had a hard time telling him. That's when I really started to pay attention, closing my eyes. I realized that I was trying to hear and understand the difference between guitars instead of just feel the difference of each one being played in my hand. Pretty soon, I was able to describe them pretty well. There was a particular Martin that was beautiful. I love how it looked. He asked me how I liked it after I played it for a minute. First thing that came out of my mouth: "Boring". I tried to convince myself that it was amazing, especially after looking at the $3,000 price tag. But truth be told, the guitar felt stiff, unresponsive, cold and boring in my hands. The guys eyebrows went up and then he said "good!" and took it out of my hand, praising me as if we'd just won a victory. Then it clicked. I said, "I think I just learned something about relationships". The guy laughed and said, "yeah, you're exactly right. It IS a relationship. I'm going to use that. Too bad I can't send you royalties!"
So what I realized is that I shouldn't feel bad to admit what a guitar feels like to me. I'm not passing judgement on it's actual value. I'm 100% sure that the Martin was a fine, well-crafted and valuable instrument. I was only expressing how it felt when I held it and played it. It just didn't work and didn't fit. I think this is how it is in relationships. I've gotten so technical and felt bad when I couldn't make it work instead of trusting that by passing on something, I am allowing that person to be discovered by someone else who feels that this is right, and I am also giving myself an opportunity to discover new sounds, if that makes sense. One thing I realized, too. Don't dismiss the feeling of "home" in guitars or relationships. I think I got so practical that I forgot to believe that finding someone you love like crazy does involve time and choice, but there still is magic and mystery and beauty as well. I think I'd convinced myself that this was all a bunch of "hooey", as my Uncle Bruce would say. So, here's another thought. No matter what guitar you choose to play, to do it well will take time, discipline, commitment, practice, error and more practice and patience. But, when you're playing on a guitar that you love, that feels good and that feels natural and like "home", it makes the practice much more fun and enjoyable. So, choosing a guitar is a lot like love, I think.

Daniel Fast... (Day 8, or so)

I have been embarking on a Daniel Fast. It began quite as an accident, but I use the word "accident" very loosely. With God, nothing is accidental. I thought I'd be very strict with myself, so as to beat these crusty demons out of me - (water only for 10 days, steel yourself for the battle)...then I fell flat on my face by the middle of the first day, so hungry and weak and unable. On the way home from work that day I thought "I'll just go get some vegetables from the store"...and right there in Sunflower Market, in the produce section, I hear the word of the Lord..."I want you to desire the things that are pure"... So, I bought stock in veggies and fruits that day, and I have become quite creative, but it is something, yes, it is something! It is the work of the Spirit in me...(so good is God)...that every time I eat I feel him rejoicing over me as I fill up on these vegetables and fruits...I mean, there is nothing magical about veggies...but just as Jesus revealed things through the commonplace, so that they weren't commonplace any longer upon his touch. So it is here.
I feel so much freedom and it is a beautiful thing.

I want to desire the things that are pure. I want to desire all of God.

I feel like there is a flower blooming right out of my heart. I feel like I just took my fingers out of my ears. I feel like I'm coming alive again.

slipping time, slipping soul (Fasting Day 1-3)

If someone would have asked me how long it has been since I had written a blog here, I probably would have responded with something like this: "Oh, it's been a while...maybe since the spring of '09"...Well, count me as wrong. I can hardly believe it, but computers never lie (they don't, do they?" It's been since April of 2008? Really??? What have I done since April of 2008? The answer is, I've done a lot, but a lot of it has just gone into the void space, which is sometimes okay, but mostly, I'd like to be able to look back and recount these things. I'd like to recount again the ways that the Lord has showed his goodness in the middle of so many emotions varying from depression, to utter elation in seeing his provision, to guilt and struggle, to apathy. How frail I am...but I am here.

So, it is Lent 2010, and I am fasting...ending day 3, actually. It has come to the point where God always seems to let me know when I need to begin a fast. Not a booming voice, but more of a familiar nudge. This familiar nudge has always been met with a certain sense of anticipation as well as a good dose of dread and anxiety, and this time is no exception to the rule.
I began thinking that I would do a 10 day, water only fast. I didn't feel extremely prepared, but thought I'd just push through. I didn't even do anything for the beginning of Lent, Ash Wednesday. I was going to fast just that day and totally flopped! I was so hungry at work and thought "well, I'll begin later". I knew I'd be singing in a wedding this past weekend and that it wouldn't really be an appropriate time to be fasting- for so many reasons...So, after little sleep and lots of food and beverages after a long weekend, I attempted to begin on Monday. This attempt was met with some of the most intense fatigue I've ever experienced during fasting, and all while I was at work. If I'd been home, able to lay down, pray, push through, that might have been something different. I don't know if it was mostly a mental hurdle of knowing I'd begun to go without food, but whatever it was, it translated to me literally falling asleep at my computer and being in a total dizzying fog while I stood scanning documents into the copier. So, what did I do? I ate 5 almonds. It helped. Some. I thought, "How can I justify fasting when I can't physically perform my job?" So, I began to ponder this thought and how I felt in my spirit and I thought about what I'd been reading in Daniel. The Daniel fast of vegetables and water only for 10 days. And I just landed there. Only vegetables (and fruit) for 10 days. And thus began this time of fasting.
I anticipated that it wouldn't be much of a fast because I wasn't REALLY going without. I changed my mind today when my boss asked me to go to Winchell's and buy donuts for everyone in the office. Oh, did I mention that we also had breakfast burritos? We did. I didn't. I really, really wanted to. Let me add one more "REALLY" to that sentence! Two words: apple fritter.
So, these are the things that have become readily apparent to me, and I believe a work of revelation of the Spirit, even in the last 3 days:

I've been feeling very weak in my spirit. There has been a slow crack of my soul with God. Nothing abundantly obvious. But a crack is a crack, even if only apparent by looking closely. It still has devastating effects. So it is with me, and I have felt it. Nothing is compartmentalized, even when we want it to be. We are Body, Mind, Spirit and when one suffers, so do the others. So, it became very clear on Monday the condition of my soul. This says nothing about God's love for me. I feel loved and treasured all the same. But there have been so many other fasts that have been relatively easy, as my spirit is strong and I am ready to bear down with God. Not the feeling this time.

Here is the beautiful thing: I went to Sunflower Market and bought plenty of fruits and vegetables. And this is what I feel like God is showing me:

This is not about how much you give up

Eat as many fruits and vegetables you like-to your hearts delight

this is about desiring (maybe learning to desire) what is pure

you will crave junk (physically and spiritually), and it is readily available, but it will never fulfill you


So, Lord, here I am
I'm kind of a wreck, and I will resist the temptation to compare my soul situation to others who are "more of a wreck". It doesn't matter. I see where I stand. You never move, but I have moved, so I feel the sting, although, still yet, I feel Love. Even if I didn't, I'd believe Love.
I'm tired of the lust and the discontentment of my soul. I'm tired of where it leads me. Much too far from your heart and into my own cravings for the temporary gratification. As if that ever gave me what I really desire. I don't deny the powerful desire to be in a relationship, to be a wife and a mother. But that still must be met through unselfishness and purity.
So, Holy Spirit, Come! Convince me of what I already know. As I stretch out my hand to yours extended, teach me a new facet of your face and of your heart.

Some specifics I will mention, besides my continued conversion:

John: Safety and a continued wholehearted love and desire for you and your call. Let him hear you above all competing voices
Anna: A true connection between things learned in the head and experiencing your power in her heart
Nils: A profound run-in with you, Christ. Apart from what Karie or I can say or do. Nevertheless, don't let me be afraid to speak the truth and power of your name.
Karie: A lifting of the fog of loneliness and depression and a restoring of our friendship and communication as it could be
My job/work: a realization of what do when I realize that it is sucking me dry and giving no energy in return. In other words, I am working outside of my calling and it becomes more and more obvious as time goes by.

So, Lord, thank you for meeting me and being ultimate Good. Thank you for speaking. Help me to listen well.

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me-put it into practice. And the God of Peace will be with you" Philippians 4:8-9

Song of the Waiting Heart

What is it I hear through the trees
Coming down the mountains like the rushing onset of spring?
And what is brought to me on the wind,
Playing with wisps of hair as it pulls thoughts to my mind?
What is it that squeezes tears from my heart?
It is neigher of sorrow nor joy, but from a faint melody in which I start
to hear the voice of one that I've dreamed of for many days.
Do I imagine it now or will I turn around and gaze
Into soul windows of one with thoughts that speak to mine?
Yet still, I am left to wonder when it will finally be our time.

I could wander the paths that are shortcuts to love,
Waste life giving myself up
These painful paths lead only to ends
Littered with broken hearts trying to beat again.
O Hope, strengthen me to believe
That Patience will someday have its reprieve,
Gird me with the wings of Charity
Until Love be granted me.

And what is it that I hear through the trees?
The music of souls, the music of these things
Which confirm my sometime panging heart to wait,
To trust this song be not in vain.
Then on some morning, noon or night
When the tune of souls is playing kind,
then at one I know the dance will start
For the love that waits in these two hearts.


2-14-01

a vision of Jesus...

It is very humbling and terrifying to think that one can encounter the divine and live in the grace to tell about it. I know that I can count myself among the skeptics when, upon hearing another speak of hearing God or seeing God, I take a moment to pause and wonder if such encounters are simply of the imagination. Yet, I think there are the times in our own experience that prove to be so profound and so tangible, that no matter what skepticism enters the picture, there is the overshadowing indelible seal of the Spirit confirming that the unexplainable mystery of God has somehow encountered our own time and space.

I have been wanting to make such an entry of my encounter with the broken Christ since last May, and I have felt altogether lacking in my ability to even begin to explain it. Any words seem so inferior, but what makes me begin my effort tonight? I don't know, but nevertheless, I will try.

Last May, I attended a conference at Denver Seminary called the Spiritual Formation Forum. The three day conference was focused on Journeying with Jesus. I was just beginning my own journey into the possibility of what it would look like to become a spiritual director or counselor, so I attended. At this conference, I helped my brother in law lead worship as well.

There are often times that, as much as I feel a passion for leading others in worship, that I ultimately despise it as well. I'm sure this sounds almost blasphemous, but it is true. It is based on the fact that I know our worship here on earth is such a shadow of things to come and I feel that so acutely that I sometimes hate even trying. It feels so lacking compared with the holiness of God. What if we were to even get a glimpse? We would be doing something altogether different that what we do. I am convinced that we would be on our faces in such a holy and spellbinding silence that the world would stand still for just a moment.

Our team led worship the first night and it felt so forced to me. I was nervous, I was so self-focused and nervous as I sang. The second night was when everything changed. Another group led worship, so we were able to just sit with all the others. I sat about half way back and others were clapping along to the music, but my spirit was revolted by it all. I sat there and the last thing I wanted to do was clap or raise my hands and all the worship leader kept saying or yelling was "raise your hands, praise the Lord, dance!", etc. I just couldn't do it and I didn't know why, but I was almost nauseated by it. I began to feel a pull to the back of the room. When I say pull, I mean pull. It was as if some force was telling me to go there and I just followed. I had to get out of the crowd and have some space to just be with God outside of this experience.

As I went closer to the back of the room, I began to watch from the back what we looked like and again, the nausea came back. I began to scream inside "this is all wrong!" It wasn't that the worship wasn't genuine, but it felt so misguided as I watched everyone facing towards the front, towards the worship team, I almost felt like I was watching them worship the wrong thing. This is the best way I can describe it and yet, in that moment, I could not understand what was happening or why. And then the vision came.

In my mind's eye, but as clear as if I'd physically turned around, I had a vision of the back of the room behind me and to my left. I did not turn around, but I could see it and what I saw took my breath away. I saw a man slumped in a chair in the corner of the back of the room against the wall. He was absolutely broken and silent and his clothes were ripped and hanging off of him. His skin was dirty and sweaty and his hair hung down low, sticking to most his face. He sat, dejected and slumped in pain and utterly alone. His arms were limp and his head hung low to his chest, but he was able to barely lift his eyes and he just watched us. As I take time to describe him, it may seem that I looked and observed him for a while, but the opposite is true. It was in the same exact moment that I first took in the vision of him that I recognized him and I knew. It was the Lord. It was Jesus. It was him, there was no doubt and yet the sight of him absolutely shocked me. My breath was gone from my chest, and yet now it was not just in the vision, for I physically could not catch my breath and in a sob I said to him, "Lord, what are you doing here like this? I don't understand this". And yet again, in that moment I felt I did understand because I saw what he was seeing. I wanted to yell at all the people "Stop your noises! He's back here, don't you see him???" But the noise kept on. There was the biggest chasm I have ever felt in what I explained earlier about being unfit for worship.

I began to not be able to contain what I was seeing. It was too much for me to contain the image of his holiness combined with the vision of his brokenness and his poverty and how he was appearing. It was just that. Absolute brokennes and ugliness and yet, he did not lose one fiber of his holiness and beauty. I don't even know how to describe the distinct span of the depth of the Savior that I experienced that night. I ran out of the room and all the way outside completely overwhelmed by it all. It literally felt like my heart was being wrenched out of my chest and then came a gut-wrenching cry that I don't know if I will ever, or if I would ever want to feel that again as long as I live. I felt like he was uniting me to his Passion and I cried "Lord, I can't take this! Why, Lord?"

After awhile, as I somewhat regained my composure, I was able to begin to go back inside. All of this happened unbeknownst to anyone else and so it became all the more overwhelming to understand. I went back into the room and began to listen as the guest speaker, who I was unfamiliar with (both who she was and what she was going to be speaking on) began her talk. It was all I could do to not dissolve again when she said, "tonight, I will be talking to you about recognizing Jesus in the poor and the broken". I knew, I KNEW that I had seen and encountered our beautiful savior, revealed in all his brokenness.

I still have yet to fully understand this, and I'm certain that I never will completely grasp it, but I think of him often in this way and I still feel the pain when I do. Maybe as often as I remember, I also forget as well. But tonight I remember. I remember that I dare not "worship" unless I am worshiping him through the lens of serving the poor and the broken. I realize that I dare not forget the cost of his life for us and the justice he is bringing and calls us to bring. I realize again that I must align my worship in his presence and I must sit at his broken and holy feet and lose every part of me, if only to be found in him. I want to count everything as rubbish compared to knowing him and participating in his suffering.

This was the suffering servant of Isaiah 53...and why would he count any of us worthy to even share in his suffering, much less his glory?

Most often, as tonight, all the words cannot measure the scope of this greatness.

a vision of the Lord.

Things I did on my 30th Birthday...

A simple blog bid farewell to my twenties and just to say that I had a really nice day...

I got a great call from a friend who ALWAYS remembers my birthday, even if it's the one time a year we talk.

I got a call from my sis who tried to get the kiddos to sing and they all chickened out...I smiled.

Jen and Kevin Fuller called on their way to Chicago. Jen is my girl birthday buddy. Love that!

I picked up my friend, Jessica from Union Station. She rode the train overnight from Lincoln to get here early and hang out with me on my birthday.

We got breakfast in the highlands and had a great conversation.

We got manicures and pedicures!!! wonderful!

Had lunch with Jessica and my friend Alan from church who is my boy birthday buddy. We ate greasy hamburgers and then sang happy birthday to each other and paid for each other's meal, which is kind of corny, but FUN! I gave him a lightsaber. That's right, a lightsaber.

I gave Jessica a tour of Hope House and then dropped her off.

I came to work at Hope House as usual.

Right now, I'm wishing I was asleep already, but hey, I only turn 30 once, right?

So, Happy Birthday to Me, Jen and Alan
Happy St. Joseph's Day...give it up for Jesus' dad!
And Happy Spring!!!
And Happy Easter!!!

How life is...

A late night here at Hope House...it's my choice this time, but even when it's not, I don't mind. I'm sitting in the office here, eating an occasional chocolate pretzel, trying not to smudge chocolate on my white Macbook. All my stuff from my overnight bag to a projector and my trusty guitar is sprawled out all over the place now that the girls have gone to bed. To me, this is a beautiful thing. To me this is like home and home for my heart. So why did I take that other job? Well, that's what I've been asking myself for the past 3 weeks.

I thought it was God's plan, although there wasn't any over-abundance of peace, but it seemed that the outward circumstances and wisdom spoke louder than my inward doubts. It was what I'd been asking for, right? There certainly were a lot of green lights, so I decided to leap after pondering for a week after being offered the job. Maybe it is His plan, but as I've sat in that office for the past 3 weeks, I have felt that a very big part of me is just shriveling up. I feel almost withered and I dread going every single day, which by the way, is only Monday, Tuesday and part of Wednesday. I can honestly say that I can count on one hand the times I've ever felt that way about Hope House in the past year and a half...and that was just after an extremely tough week, but with this job it's every day. This can't be good, can it?

Now, don't get me wrong, the job I have is probably amazing. There are people who would kill for a job like this. A fairly high profile organization that does such amazing non profit work and the job just fell into my lap, out of nowhere. There was no application process, it was like it was there for the taking and I don't even know why. I still don't get why they thought I was the best candidate for the job. I really, really don't know.

On top of that, I didn't even have to totally quit working at Hope House. I just dropped down from 4 overnights to 2 overnights a week, so I thought it wasn't a big deal. But you know what? I hate it! I hate being gone from here. I honestly had no idea how much I'd miss being here with the girls and kids and feeling connected to their lives. Laughing, crying, praying, dealing with the annoyances and loving them and their kids all the more.

The thing is, if God's doing something bigger than what I can fathom and immediately see, then fine. I'm all for that. But at the risk of being a drama queen, I'm starting to feel like Marty McFly in back to the future. Remember that scene when he goes back in time and his future mom starts dancing with another guy besides his future dad and he takes out the picture of his family and they are starting to disappear and his hand is, too? I kind of feel like I'm venturing down some weird path that sets my stomach to flipping at the thought of it. It's not even that I think there's this one selected path and if I miss it, God's gonna strike me down. I feel freedom there, but with the freedom of choice comes the desolation and consolation and boy, do I feel desolate at this point in time.

I feel like I could drop this job in 1.5 seconds and never look back in regret. But, how do I balance these emotions with what might be something that I'm supposed to learn from? Just because something is uncomfortable, doesn't mean it's wrong, but where do I place my emotions?

Also, this is a tough time because I'm still missing mom after 11 years and today is her death day. I know it's truly for her a passing to LIFE day, but for us down here, it's still death and it still stings temporarily. So many days I just want to call her on the phone like I used to. How I would love to hear what she'd have to say about all this.

I'm 29, teetering on the edge of 30, which means that this year and at this particular time, I'm the exact age mom was when she had me. The void feels bigger each year. I used to get annoyed when friends would whine about their age and so now I'm annoyed at myself! I think, "Get over it!!!: But I do feel bummed that my 30th birthday is next Wednesday and is sandwiched on either side by two weddings: One the weekend before, and one the weekend after. One of the things that happened when I thought about taking this job was that my boss here at Hope House said "You won't be a residential counselor at Hope House forever, but this opportunity could be your career" And I thought immediately that I don't want or care about a freaking career because I really just want to be a wife and a mom and I know I'm called to music and to ministry.

I felt God calling me to a strict focus this year and now I just feel like I'm all over the place, in such a place of unrest. So where does this leave me? Well, before I say anything else, I know that if you read this blog, you might begin to wonder if I'm perpetually depressed and bemoaning my single state and in a constant mode of reminiscing. I really don't think that's true, it's just that when I get to a point of needing to vent something out, it's usually here that I do it to get some semblance of order.

Again, where does this leave me? Well, must God change my feelings? What if that doesn't happen? A couple of weeks ago as I was working, I felt an overwhelming sense of just wanting to leave and not come back and then in the depth of that feeling, there was this Peace, and I mean Peace, as in it was like a tangible person, which I can only assume was Jesus was right beside me. I felt something touch my head, akin to when a dad or grandpa pats his kids on the head to comfort. That's what it felt like and I heard him say, "It's okay, there's a reason for this, just hang on". I guess I'm just trying to figure out what that means.