Brokenness.

Today was a day I just wanted to scream all the brokenness inside me. Full of gnarled feelings and mangled thoughts. Nothing made sense; nothing could.... Just brokenness. Just hurting. Just deep wells of no connection.

Today was my mom's birthday. Its the day that really has become the most important to me, because it was the day of life. Of the last time I really poured my heart out to her. Of love. Of the letter. Today was a day that holds the relationship, the meaning of my mom.

Today was hard. Today was hopeless. Today was broken. Today I am thankful for the few who remembered; the two who were willing to sit.

But today, I am sad. Broken.

Ten Years.

Ten years. Ruth was married, but barren, childless, for ten years (Ruth 1:4). The ache that comes from these words calls forth deep compassion. A wanting desire to join her and hold her hand, hug her in the hard days, and cover her as a friend reads through the lines. To be barren in those days was an unestablished labeling of "not worthy" or "less than." I can see her at her city well; the women all gathered, leaving their side-glances and remarks at her feet. And her wishing and wanting to join in their feminine chatter of children and swollen bellies and living legacies. Their stories, their lives. But feeling left out. Different. Hurting.

Ten years. Ten years she was barren. Ten years she was outside. Ten years she was "alone."

The City Gate.

Boaz stayed with her through the night. Then ushered her out in secrecy in the morning. He filled her with generosity and took care of her physical needs, then went to take care of the other matters, to gather her heart.

And he did it upright. He waited at the city gate, then gathered together the elders of the village as witness' to the agreements and arrangements, going forward with their blessing. In all ways, he was upright, carefully regarding her, and clearly focused on maintaining integrity and character for her, as well as himself and the family line, in the way he so honesty dealt with matters.

"Respected at the city gate..." (Proverbs 31).

She didn't have to hide any longer. She didn't have to wonder any longer. Once her intentions were clear, he man-upped and worked to arrange a life for her.

I want a man who walks this upright. I want someone who I don't feel I have to hide with, or if he's hiding from me. I want a man who would stand before the elders to fight for my honor, as well as ask for the protection of it.

I want a man respected at the city gate.

Wholes & Splices.

I want one man's whole heart;

not splices of anyone.

Widowed and Childless.

Did you realize that Ruth -- a widow, childless Moabites -- was called to be the married, mother of Israel? That God took her brokeness, her bareness, and made her Hope. He renamed her and he reclaimed her. And her life, one that wept tears and felt hurt, found and followed obedience, and became the stem of the Hope of all Israel.

Now that is Redemptions Story.

The Hope of All Glory.

Be Devoted.

"Be devoted to one another in love." Romans 12:10

Be devoted. What does that mean? What does that mean heart-wise? Life wise? What does that mean in the little things? In the big things? What does it meant to be devoted to one another?

Some examples come to my mind -- specifically of Laura, Jenny, and Missy. These three women have taken community and showed me what it means in the flesh. They put love on scripture. The put skin on Words. They put lasagna in my garage, Powerade in my hand, and flowers in my room. They scrawl in sand at Nordhouse, poke at fires in the backyard, and snack on appetizers at Applebees. They show up at Morning Maries, Burlingame Dairy Dip, and my drive way at 6am. They pray, they write in chalk, they send cards. They send picture postcards, Israeli tokens, and rocks in a box. They stare out from Saugatuck, wander Reeds Lake, and relax on the pontoon. In all these things, they display "devoted." Something about these friendships doesn't waver. Maybe time and space does, and schedules fill, but these women are bottom line: devoted.

I wonder what that means for me. For us. Right now, in this time and space. I live in a world right now of transition. Of people lurking for adventures, lured by jobs, and lusting after 'better'. I live in a culture surrounded by people who are plucked to life stages, family changes, and career rearranges. This month alone, I see Amy prepare for Milwaukee, Jenelle pack for Nashville, and Trish fly for Mexico. These are my three closest friends in Charlotte.

I have chosen, I have desired to live a life devoted, committed to those around me. But I heard another friend today talk about possibly moving, and I got quiet and gulped with emotion. Loosing another? The investments are shaking. The time seems wasted. I want to pull my heart back into itself and find others who are staying to root. To digest in.

I purposefully disbanded from my Bible Study so I wasn't spread more thin over more people. But what that found me instead, is digging deeper into the current relationships in my life. This is good. This is the intended outcome. But now, when I hear more factors, more changes, I want out. Of the group and people I claimed deep in my heart. I want out of more extraction. I want out of more risk, more hurt, more pain.

I look over my friendships, and wonder how many others have thought this of me?

And I wonder, in this life of changes, what does it mean, then, to be devoted to one another in brotherly love? What does it mean to love and honor and serve another? It it does just for the purpose of here and now, even if that is constantly ripped and torn? Or is devotion something more?

It's devotion between me and Kelsey. Between me and Kate. Between me and a few others who I make phone calls with and buy plane tickets to and send morning thoughts. Its devotion across the miles, across the life phases, across time and places.

But it's devotion that is also necessary on home turf. In the place where you live; where meals are served and brought, where days are spent and grown, where physical life happens. It's devotion that is needed.

Yet the question still remains: what does that mean today, here in this place, with these people, in this phase, at this season?

Peering In.

I drove past McDonalds this morning. In the window, I could see them -- four men scraggley with the morning but awake to the dedication of the Word and community before them. Glass separated us, but my longing didn't. Something about seeing them there recaptured this glimpse of what is good. Only the window separated them from my humbled hope, my curiosity, and my honor.

Something about that scene was a glimpse I wish I could capture and paste here in photograph form. An essay of what "it" looks like. To grow as godly men. They were of several ages, some pressed in shirts for work, some with hair a-flutter for crawling back into bed. But the alarm clock marked this holy appointment, and they came. They knew.

They knew that as godly men, that has precedence. To chase work and wives and women and wonders, all those come second. But to choose and chase God, that is where it begins. And this early morning meeting marked the declaration.

There is something about this image, these four men, that hasn't been displaced from my mind all day. Something about it drew me, draws me. It's a portrait of leaning in, of learning the lesson and practices of one "respected at the city gate" (Proverbs 31), putting and planting God and gospel deep in their heart, written on their door frames, and trained in their thoughts (Deuteronomy 6: 4-9; II Corinthians 10:5).

I drove away, in awe, in admiration. In luring wonder and grappling to gain the wisdom of the moment. It gave me hope; it gave me peace. It gave me a steady breath, assurance. Of what is to come. Of what can be. Of what is promised. Of what, oh God, is man.

^"4 Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. ⁵ Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. ⁶ These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. ⁷ Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. ⁸ Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. ⁹ Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates." Deuteronomy 6.

A Candle and Coffee.

I wrote a couple of friends this weekend, and wrote a lot on my blog. And crested a new horizon, a new sense of being. And I am thankful for that. As I wrote to one my friends just this morning:

PS -- I'm thankful for this weekend. I'm growing, and refreshing. I'm sitting here with a candle and a cup of coffee and a raspberry white-chocolate almond bar baked fresh yesterday... that is beauty, isn't it? Thank the Lord for these moments, as I thank him for you, and the gift in getting to share them with you...

So I'm cuddled here, content amidst the sliders that peer the fresh morning rain over greeting land, and breathe deeply in the stargazer lily candle, the sound of Ann Voskamps' blog, and my patient soul recruiting itself. Thankful.

Flirting With Sin.

So I've been thinking about sin, and flirting. Yes, perhaps an odd and weird combination, but I think the two are paired a lot more than what we ever realize. And I wonder how much, we flirt with sin?

Sometimes lines are black and white. Sometimes they are. And yet, we still choose to think with our head and live with our heart. How often do we listen in "just a tad" to gossip? Or snuggle "just a little" to sexual temptation? Or stir "just slightly" evil thoughts about someone?

I think I realize more and more as am I faced with seeing the grayness of the essence of sin, how important it is to train our minds to "take captive every thought for Christ" and then pray that our spirit and bodies follow. I find myself getting stronger in the battle against some sins, but falling and flirting with others more easily. The humanity of myself in it is a scary thing. No wonder the Bible says to "flee" from it, rather than flirt with it...

Becoming Wholer.

"...some sorrows in life will never go away. You learn to carry them with you in ways that enrich rather than debilitate your life, in ways that make you wise..." ~ Paula Rinehart, Strong Women, Soft Hearts, p 44.

There's a great depth and truth in this. There is a reality in this. It's the reality of this last season. This season where life has settled and the dust seems to have found it's sections of the room where it will land and stay, and in it, I find myself too settling and being able to see things lost before. (Life here = family chaos; not regular 'life').

And what it leaves me with, is looking around, and finding that real sense of loss. As some of the hurt and anger and grinding emotions dissipate between time and distance, there is a different level of understanding, and a greater level of calming loss that comes. There is a lot more thinking, through the stories, the emotions, the actual loss of my mom, rather than the hub-bub of the rest.

But in it, I am finding myself coming out wholer, cleaner, clearer. Saddened, but made new. Able to rejoin sections and patterns of life, rather than continue to amputate. To live a fuller life now in echo of loss.

Secrets.

"Secret things belong to the Lord, and future things are secret things." ~ Sara Young, in Jesus Calling: February 26.

"The secret things belong to the LORD our God..." Deuteronomy 29:29

There is something peaceful and steadfast in these words. Secret Things. Secret things are His. They are known, but they are secret. A special treasure. Waiting to be revealed. So be strong in that. Let Him hold the secrets.

Seamless Blend.

It's been a little while since I've shared a good thought... I pulled out my Ruth study again last night... and retraced my path through it, finding myself landing on a quote I had loved and underlined.

"[Ruth] was a seamless blend of confidence and humility, strength and deference, knowing what she wanted but knowing her place."

Something about this was clarity, was peace. It was such a good description of... woman. Of that balance of character, of pushing and pressing and pursuing... and pausing and praying and presence. It was that distinction of the direct connection of all levels of who we are, finding their nitch together and woven as one. It was there that I paused, nodded my head, pondered, and waited. Wondering through my thoughts and wandering through the things in my life, wondering where I stood along this teeter totter, lured so many directions, but knowing, needing, and wanting to achieve that balance...

I think, perhaps, what that balance lies in for woman, is... peace. It takes distinct contentment of life and self and God to find that kind of rest between the opposites. It takes a certain knowing of self, commitment to self, and value of self to be complete in that space. And it takes God shining strong, like piercing light through, in order to cement and guide and direct and bring that strength.

Women like this seem to release an aroma of... wisdom. They are those who grow old with depth and thought, and who others want to grow to. Others linger near them to catch what it is that has let their heart free, what has summoned them with gentle strength. Women like this can be seen, simply by the way they carry themselves. By the way they walk, they hold their head, they interact, they share, they laugh, they gesture, they love.

They are strong women, soft hearts (titled Paula Rinehart). They are Proverbs 31. They are Eleanor Roosevelt, Amy Carmichael, Catherine Marshall, Esther, Sara Groves. They are women who I call my friends. They are Love. They are Peace. They are Known. They are Woman.

Daffodils and Dogwoods.

The daffodils and dogwoods are blooming. Yellow blooms pop from bulbs beneath the white blossoms of the trees above. Even pink tulips have hedged their way along the masses of colors beginning to line the roadways. Its beautiful, renewing, restoring. Signs of life. Signs of spring.