If My Mom Came To Charlotte.

I was talking like an erupted volcano tonight to my roommate Jenelle and couldn't stop the molten lava from pouring... Everything from life and plans and future and houses and jobs and family and Michigan and April and finances and friends just rumbled on as an endless run-on sentence lingering on paper, with no period, but merely dot-dot-dots to follow...

My "end note" was more picturesque than the mantra of mixings before... Me dreaming and lingering and picturing and feeling about what it would be like if my mom came to Charlotte today...

She's come in the past, almost bi-monthly. And so I have taken her to the downtown farmers market, the Matthews Dilworth & Farmers Market, the Stowe Botanical Gardens, the Cheesecake Factory and SouthPark, the South Mountains, the Levine Museum of the New South, and the Sycamore Commons Shops. Shes been to all my past favorites, but I'd love to take her to my new favorites, as well as my old ones that are still embedded but unvisted.

So, if my mom came to Charlotte now, I'd take her to:

~ Mint Hill Dilworth (Coffeehouse)

~ Weddington Park (actually called Coronal Francis Beatty Park, but its my favorite. We'd stroll and walk and talk and be... because I love it. And, because I've already decided I want to be engaged there (haha).)

~ The Lawsons. Wednesday Night. To meet new friends and people I know and love and talk about all the time. And to meet Sandy Lawson, because I know they would love and adore each other simply out of their respect of how the other loves and takes care and watches over me. And they know what the other means to me.

~ The Terrace Cafe and/or Cafe Monte (my favorite finds for female food).

~ I'd show her around Porter Ridge, Cuthbertson, and any other schools I might be interested in teaching in. She'd talk, encourage, and believe in me. Tell me I was born to teach.

~ I'd make her banana muffins in the morning, with coffee and tea, for me and her and my roommates to bring in the morning to.

~ We'd drive by Stonecrest and Blakney. My two favorite little hangouts.

~ Dilworth. Garrett. The Baers. She'd meet and love my nanny family. And love them because of how good they are to me. And talk and hug Garrett, because he'd already know her from talking to her on the phone so much...

She'd come and welcome me with a housewarming gift, and definitely a package of napkins for my house and table. And we'd talk under our blankets in the warmth of my room. And I'd share anything and everything and love having her, as much as love the knowing of her.

If My Mom Came To Charlotte, How Happy I Would Be...

(This post makes me sigh and smile.)

Responses.

I am amazed at people's responses. Some profound. Some with depth and meaning beyond what words can say. And some so ignorant or ignoring that I find myself in shock afterwards.

Some friends write with depth of love and insight, and tears I know that are streaming down their face. Some with prayers enveloping their words. Some with plane tickets bought and in hand.

But I think what shocks me more is the response of people who offer none. Who hear me say that my mom died or my dad's engaged, no details or tales, and say nothing, just turn and escape conversation. Not even an "I'm sorry to hear that." Or people who call or email and act like nothing has happened at all, even though they know different, but ignore the whole conversation and intimacy and factor all together. Not only is this shocking, but it's surprisingly a way of fighting the war, hurtful in itself.

I know there is no response that is the "right" response. I wrote my friends many emails afterward to let them know it's just "awkward" and there is little to say. But at least they did/said something. At least we walked in "awkward" together and cared in it all. At least they didn't ignore, crawl away from, or become coward in it.

In death, in trial, in family, response is purposeful. Response is the church. It doesn't have to be intense, or long, or words strung to close the gap. But, it must, it is, necessary.

I Need My Mom.

I need my mom.

I went to the chiropractor last week and this week, and he said my spine is "degenerating." He said the emotional trauma's that I've experienced this year are taking a toll on my body and breaking it down, eventually wearing down my bones, nerves, organs, and spine. His sincere eyes were true, but let's be honest, after fainting last week and this week, I know I've got problems. Best part of it was, as I was fainting the second time, all I remember him saying is, "You really need to go see a Christian counselor..."

So he said he can heal some of my physical dysfunction, but that the physical is my body's response to the emotional.

Thus brings me to why I need my mom.

She always said, "Everyone needs someone. Everyone has to have someone to complain to, to vent to, to bounce things off of." And she would be mad if I didn't. She said she was my person and if I didn't call after a bad day of school or other difficulty, she would be mad. Our hearts were so similar in so many different ways that calling her was often the best thing I could do with any circumstance. She would often just listen and listen, heeding little words, and just after talking to her, I felt better. It was like, "Ah, its all out there" and I could sigh and rest and go on with my day. Anger and tears subsided. Like the comfort of a warm hug, snuggled and nestled and warm in her by means of words.

I went to a Christian counselor this week. I left more frustrated than when I arrived. Because I kept asking over and over what I need to do differently, what I can work on, what things will help me. Trying to find a way to deal with all this and 'get better'. And she just said that I can't do anything about the situations in my life, and that I just have to stop blocking emotions, and simply feel them. So there isn't anything I can do, just time.

I want my mom. I want her emotional support. Her space of "dumping zone." My freedom in words to speak to her. Talking to her with little concern of protecting her from the depths of my life because I knew she loved every piece of me and I was never "too much" for her. I could talk to her for ten minutes or hours and feel this deep connection and sense of love that over took anything else.

I want my mom.

I need my mom.

I miss my mom.

~
P.S. Yes, I know Jesus can be all of those things... but it's different. And unless you've never experienced my life and these situations, its hard to define and explain that.

So, here I go, once a week for a year to a chiropractor, and a counselor intermittently. I want to get "better." So intentionally, I'm committing to do so. I will exhaust my resources to do so. Life, money, relationships, health. All a matter of priority...

Public & Private Lament.

Worth reading if you have time:

http://www.leaderu.com/marshill/mhr01/lament1.html

An essay, The Hidden Hope of Lament, by Dan Allendar.

Pre-Provides.

Written February 4, 2020.

Without going into all the details, I needed money this week.

And never have I unlearned and re-learned a lesson a new way than this.

Two weeks ago, I wrote a blogpost God Provides about money stocked up randomly in my bank account. Saying, I quote, "I have no idea why, but right now, God provides."

There was little evidence of why, but elation and joyful excitement filled me. Yea! Who doesn't want more money?

Then, this week, I had a spur-of-the-moment need for a chunk of cash. I just withdrew whatever I needed and figured I'd suck it up. Money's only money.

But I still couldn't help feel a little bit jaded underneath. I thought about that layer of extra cash, and thought, well, there it went. Shoot. Oh well, I'll save for a house another day. No big deal.

But then today, I was mid-transportation and was like -- oh my gosh, God PRE-PROVIDED! What?! He doesn't do that! What does that even mean? What?!

Because in financial terms, my need always superseded the provision. And the provision was prayed for and a miraculous second. My mom used to comment that she doesn't know why, but with me, God always makes me wait to the last minute, but he always provides. And I have a list to prove this.

But I can't think of a single time like this that I saw a need and it was so obviously Pre-Provided for! (Note: Disclaimer - this doesn't mean that I ever went without necessary things.)

So I have to reverse, recalculate, rethink my logic and my heart, and see God's given and bounding grace in his Pre-Providing. He had already laid the money in my account two weeks before it was needed, perfectly fit and about the exact right amount. So, instead, with these eyes that see, I got to view the money differently and see it as a gift to use without reservation, and with joy and release and gladness. It was God's money. It was His, to pre-provide.

When I wrote the original blogpost two weeks ago, I remember feeling weird, wondering why I should write it, and what the response to it would be. Who writes about random extra cash, and even says how much?

But I do. And I did. And now I know why. Because now I can give testimony to the fact that sometimes, God Pre-Provides.

To Do Hard Things.

As I meet people, I just want to compell and gage and test and ask:

Do you have it in you to do hard things?

~~~

By this I mean conversations, commitments, etc. Do you have the ability to stand up and fight? To seek injustice? To come as a shelter? To be a protector? To stand in the gap for me, for people, for others? Do you have it in you to be bold, confident, courageous? Do you have it inside? Do you have the ability, and the boldness and courage to do hard things? And, if you do, do you?

CounterTop Sitting.

You know you're at home when you're "counter-top sittin'."

My roommates and I always refer to that as the mark of coming home, being home, feeling home. Secure in the place and the people, so that you can crawl up or plop up, or scooch up and counter-top sit.

The best conversations happen during counter top sitting.

For in homes and people, I am thankful for counter-top sitting.

Walk In.

As the priest, the Levites, and the people of Israel approached the Jordan, they were instructed to "walk in." They were not instructed to wait, or wonder, or measure the water or depth or implications of the rapids or yield of its wake. They were instructed to "walk in" (Joshua 3).

As we live and work and gather promised lands and see and take companionship in desert lands, we too are instructed to "walk in."

There are times to wait, to wonder, to analyze. There are times to do things such as these.

But there are times to "walk in."

What things looks like this week, this day, is to "walk in" with my friends and "walk in" with their pain, their grief, their wounds, their damage. Their questions, the gruntings, their stirrings, their sadness. Their lives. It means to walk in. To not wait, to not question, to not wonder. To consider implications, but to simply, do that: walk in the river with them.

As I look at my own days, my own weeks, my own months that lay in the past and ahead, I also see and cherish those who most deeply have chosen to "walk in" with me. Who have not regarded their own cost of what it would mean to truly walk with me through the depths of all of this, or to peg me as 'too much' or 'crazy' or 'one more call/conversation' but who pick up the phone, who call, who send e-mails, who simply listen. Who gather themselves on the other end of the phone or the other end of the conversation, and just take the rapids. Who say enough to let me know they know what is being said, and let me know that the pain of me does not go unnoticed or uncared for, but who also say not words that simply are words or explanations or stories. Who simply enter in and walk in the river with me.

As I walk these roads, these dirt paths, these desert plains, and as I come across the Jordans, I am ever in the clutch of these remarkable friends. And, as they too walk and enter the deserts, and find the intensity of the Jordans, may I also not wait or label or question or wonder or watch, but walk in with them.

PS: And, God parted the water. The priest walked in, gathered the wetness of their feet and cloaks and walked in, obedience marching their water-logged steps. And then God in His faithfulness parted the seas, and widened the walls of the river to make way for the walking on dry ground. Let us all be water-walkers, and watch as we wait with bold faith and expectation for God to hold back the roar of the water.

Trials and Tribulations.

All I can think now is these days preclude the End of Times. When I think of all of the things my dearest loved ones are going through and what has happened the last few days, weeks, months, it seems to all point to the End of Times.

I see family turned away from family, breakings of marriages, continual deaths, and coarse friendships where Christ has been supreme. And it seems like the attack of Satan, and only Satan, that could bring such intensity and depth and pain. And also such manipulation and deceitfulness to break apart these families and spouses and friendships, specifically. It is the result of sin and those powers against us. We stand at the gates of hell. Some days, I just, we just, stand there, tormented. Other days, we storm hell's doors.

As I cover the people in love in prayer, I beckon these words:

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." II Corinthians 4:8-10.

We acknowledge the hurts, the pains, the angers, the sadness, the grief. But we also acknowledge the weight that Christ will and does continue to conquer the grave.

Jesus Christ has the victory. He always will, he always does. Let us look at our lives and label things as we see them through spiritual eyes, and keep maintaining that Christ will have the victory, not the deceit and lies and beatings of Satan.

Bold Love.

I'm reading sections of this book Bold Love by Dan Allender, as recommended by several highly respected adults in my life. A couple of things stand out to me enough to share with you:

"We are lovers in a dangerous time. Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight. We have to kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight." Quote by Bruce Cochburn.

"I will not live with purpose and joy unless I love; I will not be able to love unless I forgive; and I will not forgive unless my hatred is continually melted by the searing truth and grace of the gospel." p.30

"Most people would rather accept evil as the daily menu than be pronounced orphan and barred from reentering the parental garden. Evil will push us to see if we will bear loss, shame, and hatred. If we are not prepared for the attack, we will wilt under the seduction and mockery of evil. The preparation we must undergo is training in righteousness, where our senses aligned with truth and our hearts have been strengthened by discipline (Hebrews 12:1-12)." p.245

"Parameters must be set... A parameter (or boundary) is any line in human relations that honors separateness and respects individual dignity... Honoring parameters is a reflection of righteousness, or right living in relationships. We honor parameters when we experience the consequences of violating them. A consequence is a warning and/or a small dose of pain that alters others to the violation of love. The consequence, like discipline, is therefore a merciful gift of discomfort, pain, or loss that invites the offender to deal with his harm..." p.245

"Without a doubt, the [person/people] has spread vicious, uncontested lies about you to those who know you. You will be called judgemental, holier-than-thou, arrogant, unbiblical, cruel, heartless. Others will often be watching to see if the [person/people] is correct. It is not your responsibility to counter every lie, but a life that is full of joy and sorrow, tenderness and strength, and brokenness and boldness will discount at least some of the virulent untruths and half-truths told about you." p.253

Take Care Of Me.

So if I really want to be honest, which I do, but sometimes don't get quiet this intimate or go quite this far unless it is in the openness and trust of my deepest, greatest friends... I'd say I just want someone to take care of me right now.

I want someone to care about how much I'm hurting. To care about having a meal for me that I don't have to think about. To care about fixing my car since they know I hate to do it. To take care of driving with me to and from my two different worlds. To take care of me by being and sitting next to me as I go through this all this May. To care about giving me a hug when its really, all I really need some days. To care about watching the cash in my wallet. To care about the nights I can't sleep. To take care to create necessary but hard & forward & blunt dialogues and conversations, to say what needs to be said in protection of me. To take care to come next to me like a protector, an encasement, a batter with a bat. To care about listening, even when the things only really matter to me.

I have great, wonderful people in my life. No question there. I love them all. But there are so many days, I just really want someone in this way, to take care of me. :(

Survival Mode.

If you ask me what I've eaten in the last ten months, I wouldn't know. Or in the last week, I'd stare at your profoundly blank. Because I don't know. I know I've eaten. A lot, actually. I'm good at watching to be aware and disciplined about at least that factor. But as for the content, I am oblivious. I have no idea what touches my mouth, or where/what my next meal will be. More often than not, the last two weeks have landed me in disgusting drive-thrus or quick meal-time grocery stop dives for a Lean Cuisine. And the food is just simply inserted. A means to an end. A means of survival.

A friend told me this week that in crisis mode or times of extensive stress, one side of the brain takes over the rest, and the body simply forces itself into survival mode. It blocks out a lot of extra information, energy, and efforts are not deemed necessary to get through the immediate pattern of life.

So, taking that into consideration, I guess it explains these "meals" of soup-on-the-go, McDoubles on the fly, and banana peels piled on my passenger seat.

Survival mode it is.

Survive, I will do.

Slipperly Slope.

They say sometimes grief is like three steps forward, one step back.

Instead, I feel like it's one step forward, three steps back sometimes.

I was doing so good. January had felt like, in general, a lift in my spirit, the beginning of a new horizon.

But then February came last week.

And the mudslide let loose.

I fell apart for two days, then did okay for two, and then got glomped on with the mud that took days to come down the slope today. I'm mentally picturing my life right now like a mud slide, and I'm climbing the mountain, trying with all my might, but the rocks and slippery slope just keep coming and unclamping my hands off anything I could find to grab on to.

This grief, this grief, is a mudslide and a slippery slope sometimes.

Unposted Status'.

Sometimes I want to put things on my Facebook status that say things like:

... how much does it cost to get a new last name....?

OR

... hey, anybody related to me out there?...

Yeah, sarcasm, and a lot of hurt... eventually, it will subside... And, don't worry, I don't post things like this for a reason... There is enough hurt going on around for all of us...

Abide.

Today, I hauled out my Beth Moore study, literally lugging it onto my bed with grunting, to cram myself back to this faith study, and couldn't muster up the inward courage and energy to get it open and apply it to myself.

And God gave me this Word instead: "Abide."

Abide. That is all I have to do today.

"Abide in me." John 15 (KJV).

Statistics.

In the last month of more, most of the anger within me has dissipated. By God's grace. Truly, an unbelievable, undeniable work of the Holy Spirit.

But if one more person quotes to me a statistic about love and marriage and remarriage after death, I will hurt them. I will.

How is that going to make me feel better? How is that going to offer compassion to my pain? How does that all-of-a-sudden make things explainable?

My life is not a statistic. My family is not a statistic. My family is a bond of broken humans. My family, my life, my dad, are not statistics.

So do not use statistics on me. Never use statistics on me. Never use statistics to rationalize any of this.

I don't know how many people since April have told me, "Well, research shows that most men remarry within a year, especially if they had a good marriage."

But since the first time in April, until still today in February, and the million times in between, NOT ONE time has this statement been a gift or support in this time of grief.

Because, really, people, how is hearing that supposed to help? How is hearing that, and you saying that, walking with me in and through my pain? My pain can't be marginalized by statistics and numbers and quotes and your where-with-all. So stop it, stop using statistics on me.

Besides, lets be honest here, and cut right to the core... did Jesus ever use statistics to heal the hurting?

NO!

Instead, when he saw the crowds, "He had compassion on them" (Matthew 9:36).

So have compassion on me, on my family. Have compassion, not quotes or statistics.

Doritos.

"Everything is better with Doritos."

We didn't know our union in this until I arrived at Myrtle Beach in November with a bag of Doritos -- regular, nacho-style, Doritos. I simply threw them in the grocery bag as a simple smile to myself, or "simple pleasure" as I now label them, but found very quickly that I wasn't the only one escaping the life of "no Doritos, healthy living" those days.

We had packed our own groceries, our bags, our supplies, and headed as roommates to Myrtle Beach for a super-fun time of beach walking, coffee drinking, magazine reading, hot tub sitting weekend at a parent's Timeshare. I pulled out the Doritos, and all hell broke loose. It was probably the first thing to go, as we all ate handful after handful of this delicious delicatessen. It was the unity bond that none of us knew we had -- our love and passion for Doritos.

I have a picture of me and dad and Jaxson in the back of the boat this summer, climbing our fingers through a bag of Doritos, and Jaxson's face covered from mouth corner to mouth corner with crumbly cheese shards. It was again, an uncovering of this bond we didn't know. Our love for Doritos.

So today, when everything was bizzurk and went exactly how I did not plan it, my roommate said:

"Here's have some Doritos. Everything is better with Doritos."

And it was true. We laughed and smiled.

No matter what was wrong with my car and could or could not be fixed, or what time space worked to get it back there, or who could bring me there. Or what errands got fixed or didn't. Or whether the start of Garrett's day at Preschool was good or bad. Or if a friend reacted to my phone call compassionately or not. Or if I made a great dessert or if it became a lame 9x13... Or, if I thought I was finally ready to at least get one thing done for good that morning and walked out the door to the back steps of the basement... and yes, the recipe box in my arms fell out and toppled down every single one of those 17 stairs, exploding index cards on each... and I just finally leaned my head against the stairwell wall in comic relief and threw up my hands laughing for five minutes before re-walking into my home... by which way I laughed and explained what had happened to my roommate who was making lunch and turned to me and said her great statement...

Everything is better with Doritos.

It is true. Laughter is good for the soul. And,

Everything is better with Doritos.

~~

By the way, I'm pretty sure at this point, I could have been a millionaire and won the "Best Superbowl Ad" with this one.... ;)

A Follow-Up.

So I got an email from a friend who was responding to the fact that I wasn't sleeping well. He asked for a follow-up. What do you say to that, in times like these?

So I wrote him back, only this, and as short and detached as it looks:

Whew... how do I put this in short...

My last week:

Got phone calls from family on Monday & Tuesday

Booked a Flight Tuesday Night

Booked a Rental Car Wednesday

Flew Out Thursday Morning

Met my family in Court

Saw the man who killed my mother one last time, and him sentenced to prison

Wandered the streets of Grand Rapids and West Michigan alone Thursday afternoon

Stayed at a friends house, conversed with her and her husband

Friday had breakfast with my dad, thought I saw a small piece of redemption

Went through my mom's stuff for six hours, including her wedding dress with my sisters and aunts

Flew out Friday Night, lots of airport delays

Got back in Charlotte at 2am

Got a phone call from dad at 8am that he gave her a diamond the night before (with no warning to anyone... and, did I mention I saw him that day and went to breakfast with him and court was the day before...?)

Whew... so wow... hows that for a follow-up?

:)

God's grace is good, it covers me.

So, there you have it. I know there are people who are close to me who read this blog, who have no idea. I just don't know how to say it or put it in words, or go on the phone and tell the story and again and again. I can't do it; its emotionally draining.... And my self-protection yields me to not add more conversations to the rumor mill, the gossip pond, the stirring of hurt and manipulation that precedes these events and collection of conversations. Where is the line of gossip and fact?

But all that to say, I also add, a small smile from a note I wrote in my journal this morning:

Today I am thankful.

Thankful for growth in me.

Thankful for an account

That pays cash for car issues,

That I can easily let the card slide

And see how He provides.

Thankful for goodness

For roommates

For calls

For covering

For grace.

Today I am thankful,

Thankful for the growth in me.

My roommate Marilyn came in Saturday night and set two sets of tulips on my chest and said, "Here's to the first day of 'It Can't Get Any Worse Than This.'" I smiled and choked back tears of emotion at her thoughtfulness, and laughed, "Well, at least I'm not paralyzed yet..." :)

~~
Another PS Note: I make an intentional effort to not use this blog as gossip, slander, or wording that draws attention in way of adding sparks to fire. But I also reckon with the fact that many of my close friends, church members and loved ones read it (and pretty much, I've narrowed it to be accessible to them alone), so I write this letter as an outcry to you. To fill you in, to let you know where I am at, and to give margin to the cords within me. I know it isn't the greatest way of communicating all this, (well, okay, it isn't AT ALL the greatest way of communication right now) but offer me grace too, in that. I use it to give, to live, to process, to communicate the things I can't say otherwise. As one friend wrote in an e-mail to me today: "Thank goodness for your blog, I love that I can still "hear" what you're thinking and how you're processing. Keep writing..." So, I will, I do.

Personal Happiness.

Over and over, I have heard, "It makes her/him happy." Or "whatever makes you happy." Or "but he/she makes him/her happy." Or numerous statements in some form, referring to the same connotation.

I would preach on this to my students. The Declaration of Independence strove to attain men (women) the right to: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But this is not Biblical.

No where in the Bible does it say we should strive to obtain personal happiness. No, it says pursue righteousness, justice, love, mercy, grace. It counters culture with perseverance, suffering, courage, strength.

It preaches nothing of gaining the goal of happiness.

In America, we use this phrase often, we think happiness is the golden prize, and as long as it makes you happy, then alas, that is it! Or as long as a person seems happy, then there is nothing to question.

It also is a personal endeavor. It is an individualistic mindset. It isn't a collective accommodation, or a collective thought, or a collective span of concern. It isn't carrying out our commands to love each other, to carry each other's burdens, to act as Samaritans, to live as the First Church in Acts.

I have heard it gone so far as to label: "Am I my brothers keeper?" as a way out of it. But this phrase is used completely the opposite that it is written and intended (see my July 14, 2009 post My Brother's Keeper). Because, YES, we are our brothers keeper! YES, we are called to love and put others above our self. Dare I say -- above our own happiness!

Personal happiness is an American dream. An American pursuit. It is the American way. But it is not the Biblical way.

Charlotte Is My Cocoon.

Charlotte Is My Cocoon.

As winter storms around me, I shelter like a caterpillar.

It doesn't alleviate it. It doesn't heal the scar. It doesn't tear less at the wound.

But it offers me a bit of protection of the storm.

It shelters and wraps around me.

According to one website, a cocoon is "a protective casing" while the creature is "undergoing transformation." One "enters into a cocoon so that they will be protected from a harsh or unfriendly environment... It has oftentimes been said that the most beautiful butterflies have actually emerged from the ugliest cocoons. For this reason, many people consider the process of the cocoon to be a miracle of nature itself."

As Charlotte is my cocoon, it allows me a protective casing. It allows me a place while I undergo transformation of heart and mind and soul and life. It is a place to flee from harshness and unfriendly winter storms -- the media frenzy, from the gossip, the rumors (though still tagged on me), the many sights and sounds that would be more hurtful than helpful.

In these days, Charlotte is my cocoon. It doesn't lessen the pain. It doesn't avoid the obvious. But it does cocoon me enough to let my wounded caterpillar of a self rest in its self-propelled protection while winters icicles collect and gather and spar about.

This caterpillar may not escape with elegant wings, or monarch style, or growth and grace that comes from harsh storms. But it will emerge, from something, to something. It will reckon with the dawn. It will emerge in season. It will grow wings.

But while I wait for strength to spread through me, and wings to sprout strong,

Charlotte Is My Cocoon.

Above All Else.

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life." Proverbs 4:36

"And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:7

I have been wandering through conversations with my friends and roommates and loved ones, my "Verizon Network" as they called and labeled themselves today... these people who come around me and march with me and carry me, in hoards. And today, in conversations, one such love shared this phrase:

"You need to guard your heart. You need to step back. You need to protect yourself."

And immediately it made my mind jump to this verse in Proverbs that I have stamped on myself. It's always been in the context of dating and life with men and marriage. But today it yielded different terms.

As I Bible Gatewayed it, it came up with two identical word passages. And it struck me:

One: the first passage greets the reader with the wisdom to guard oneself. To take care to stand up and fight for oneself. To put up hedges, fence in space and privacy of land and life in order to protect the self from destruction, from the forces around or those that invade the self to perverse the actual self. It is a self-guard, a self-protection, a self-way of building and creating walls for the health of the body, the soul, the mind (Proverbs 4:20:23).

Two: the other passage carrys to the reader the Holy Spirit sword. It comes with barrings and standings and metal-clad armor. It is the armor of Christ, not of human will or condensed by human thought or emotion or ability, but it is the peace of GOD which transcends understanding. And it is GOD who guards the hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. It is GOD who comes and shelters and protects and shields and guards and causes rifts and hedges. It is GOD who becomes the battle shield and tender warrior. It is not of man or self-will, but of God.

As these two verses take place and root in my self, as they are kept within my site and heart (as instructed in Proverbs 4:21), it is these two verses which give me peace and strength. It is my self as a guard - of emotion, of removing myself from words or places or relationships which clamor stumbling or propel the loosing site (Prov 4:25-27). It is instead embossing within me truth and concern of human will and righteousness and justice. It is instead coming and realizing and allowing and opening my love and life to my "Verizon Network", my fellow warriors of community, of bond, of strength, of shield.

And it is the recognizing of the will of the Holy Spirit who also accompanies me, who strengthens me, who fights for and through and in me. It is His strength, His sword, His protection, His words, His leanings which give me protection. It is not just of self-strength or will, but the will and strength of the Holy Spirit, given to me and living with in me.

I know the Holy Spirit. I feel the Holy Spirit. I am the embodiment of the Holy Spirit.

"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."

And I will, above all else, today, guard and let be guarded of my heart.

For in it, I am given and am living in the peace of Christ, which transcends all understanding, and brings about the wellspring of life.

It's the Lord's House.

"It doesn't matter, its the Lord's house."

My friend (and roommate) gave me this profound statement tonight over dry Cheerios, me mumbling around at midnight.

Talking about church tomorrow, I said I could try going to my friend's church, but I wasn't sure I'd make it because I knew that if I walked in and saw Sandy, I would just loose it and start bawling. (She's a hugger. So I wouldn't just see her, she would see me, know the intensity of my pain and hurt and loss, and walk over and hug me in my personhood and in my pain.)

And Marilyn said, "That's okay, that's what church is for."

And I retorted with a bred of satire underline, "Yeah, but it's not my church."

And she said, "It doesn't matter, it's the Lord's house."

I stared back at her, stunned. Profounded.

And tonight, this reminder was a gift. The remembrance of Church. Of Sunday.

"It doesn't matter, because its the Lord's house."

Blessings. Amen. Welcome. All of it: tears, heaving, sobs, cries. Hearts bewildered. Because, today and tomorrow, it is always, the Lord's house. And I am welcomed there.

Words & Donkeys.

"Pin the tail on the donkey."

"What?!" She just looked at me, blankly with this funny, what-the-heck-are-you-talking-about half-grin, waiting.

And I laughed. "Pin the tail on the donkey. It's like the exact replica."

And we laughed. We were sitting, my roommates and I, at Panera, late this morning. Computing ourselves through facts and recollections and stories and tears and lots of laughter, and even extending ourselves to mocking bagels. But the therapeutic essence of laughter and bluntness said in genuine human love was peace-giving.

And I finished...

"Like the donkey on the wall. Getting pinned and pegged and plastered with all these things. A bunch of crap that it doesn't ask for, but just gets nailed to it."

She now looked with a bit more expectation and eyes-lit, almost getting it, and waiting for me to somehow make sense of this completely odd second-grade story analogy. Waiting.

"Like you know, the assumptions, the things said, the rumors spread or gossip given or manipulation of words that hasn't course or little justification, but will just be made or pegged anyway without concern of the donkey...

And all the donkey wants to say is:

STOP, you're hurting my ass!"

And we bolted in laughter and roared in our little booth, nooked into it with coats and bags and hazelnut refills and bagels with apparently "exotic", Eden apples... (sorry, funny inside-joke about the love of my Dutch Apple bagels which got completely demolished in our early talk...)

Because that completely obscure, absurd analogy was the exact depiction of it. Curses and foul concerns and languages and all.

--
PS: I make note, that I rarely, if ever, use swear words to share or articulate on this blog. But in this case, it was complete. It was necessary. And this story couldn't be given without it, because it was that that made it, complete.

Binded in Lyrics.

Rock of Ages,
When the day seems long
From this labor and this heartache
I have come;
The skies will wear out,
But You remain the same
Rock of Ages,
I praise Your name.

Rock of Ages,
My great hope secure
Your promise holds
Just like an anchor to my soul;
Bind your children
With cords of love and grace
Rock of Ages,
We give You praise.

~ Sandra McCracken
Rock of Ages

~~~~~

So I lay down,
What I cannot hold in my hands
Every sorrow and hope
Spinning out of control
And here I find sweet resolution
Comes in letting go
And we will find shelter here.

~ Sandra McCrakcen
Shelter

No More, My God.

So, Sandra McCracken has this song called I Boast No More, but every time I hear it, all I hear is:

No more, my God

No more, my God

No more, my God.

Repetition in the chorus. Its about boasting, but it's never what I hear. I just hear this. And I play it over and over. I hear it as I drive down Highway 85 back from a day of school in September. And again as some of these days have lingered. No more, my God.

I am faithful. I will take what you give me. I will also take with it, the grace and mercy and promise that you WILL BE. But I will also, in this, lay submissive, weary hands, and ask in Gethsemane plea, but crimson obedience, No more, my God.

~~
PS -- Don't plague this the wrong way. I am in no way saying, nor trying to reference or draw parallel of me and Christ. But this imagine of him accepting his love of God the Father in the Garden, in the torture, in the submission, in the plea, is this picture that I see given, in these days, in these, some days.

Grace Upon Grace.

In every station, new trials and new troubles
Call for more grace than I can afford
Where can I go but to my dear Savior
For mercy that pours from boundless stores.

CHORUS:
Grace upon grace, every sin repaired
Every void restored, you will find Him there
In every turning He will prepare you
With grace upon grace.

He made a way for the fallen to rise
Perfect in glory and sacrifice
In sweet communion my need He supplies
He saves and keeps and guards my life

To Thee I run now with great expectation
To honor You with trust like a child
My hopes and desires seek a new destination
And all that You ask Your grace will provide.

CHORUS:
Grace upon grace, every sin repaired
Every void restored, you will find Him there
In every turning He will prepare you
With grace upon grace.

~Sandra McCracken

Grace Upon Grace

Void.

I have never in my life been void of emotion.

There is always plenty to go around.

But today, yesterday, these days, there have been long lengths of time where I am void of emotion.

Too much need of it. Too much pull. Too much to go through.

So I am void of emotion. Void of capacity of it. Void of need of it. Void of the ability of it. Void of dealing with it.

Just void of all and everything.

Void.

~~
It reminds me of the first few weeks of mom's death, of starring at walls. Of the capacity to do little, see little, care little. Just void.

The Finish Line.

I hope when I win the prize, my friends are all stretching across with me. I hope all of our legs are groping for the same pieces of gravel and tar and sending our strength together at the same speed. I hope I am crossing the finish line with all of my closest friends and am able to cheer together with these Great Cloud of Witness' as I cross to his glory. I hope I can stand and cheer and acknowledge with them this road and race, this perseverance of the saints, this sweat and toil, and know that we did it together and with each other. They are the runners that press me on, that carry the torches with me, that give and offer the deepness of need, the inward strength to propel us forward toward in the pursuit of the goal. I hope I cross it with them, and sweat and hug and tear at that finish line with love and relief and joy and perpetual knowledge that we have given and emptied it all for this finish line.