Surrender.

The more I know Jesus, the more I know surrender.

I often ask myself what I would answer and what I would speak of if my church asked me to stand and gift what the Lord is doing in my life and what he has been teaching me. I have mulled over and wrestled and wondered. I listen in, lean in, and absorb those who share which such raw honesty and genuine humility, that it causes me to dig into the roots of where the Lord has met me the last few years and unearth all that he has given me, through the planting, the pruning, the harvesting of my years since life 'on my own' began.

He has taught me surrender. He has taught me open hands, open life, open roads, open wounds, open pages, open gifts, open words. Open of everything and all that I am. Surrender.

Surrender of my hopes, of my dreams, of all that I am. Surrender of the things of myself, the things that make me, me. The things I thought I could be, the things I think I am, the things I throw myself to be. The surrender of all that is good, of all that is real, of all I hold dear. The surrender of everything until I feel like the sackclothed woman begging at his feet with a murmur asking for even the crumbs from his table that are given to dogs. I have met him there, at the table, at the crucifix of his feet, just staring up with tears asking for any small crumb as a reminder of his goodness. I have been there, in his arms, feeling the warmth of all that is good and embracing myself like a child in his arms, surrendered to him. I have been there, enhanced in the full glow and sunshine of surrendering to the dance of bright rays sprawling through wide-open, flower splotched fields of light.

Surrender is not easy, nor has come easy. It has come through the hurt, the crushing spirit, the millions of times I have tried and failed. It has come through the striving, the wishing, the pushing.... the endless pursuit. It has come through the plans I've made and never saw rejoiced in, the promises I clung to but see dashed otherwise, the very clearly composed 'dark night of the soul' that took years for my heart to repair from... and still learn today to walk out of fully. Surrender has come through the final offering of my hands, empty and open, knowing I have nothing left, but to surrender.

And I still live surrendered. Surrendered of my hopes and dreams. I leave my road map and travel plans in his hands, and I wait. I wait to see if any of those desire, now hidden deep within me, will ever come to fruition again, someday. And I wait and wonder, wondering if he'll just break it all open some day, like a flood dam of pure joy embellishing all my ever-expected dreams to so much brighter and beautiful than I can ever imagine. And I wait and hold fast, preparing and releasing myself and my life into the known desert that may always be the path I walk. Because either way, in any of these instances and scenarios, I must and will live, surrendered.

Heroines.

Apparently I have a paralleled theme in my favorite movies. Intensely strong women characters whose fierce passion, undoubted courage, and remarkable strength is the plot line. She is the backbone of the story and the one who I watch and glean from.

I was thinking of my favorite movies the other day with a friend and started listing them off.... I Dreamed of Africa, Anna and the King, Australia... In my top 5ish films it was interesting to me of this unique commonality. [I must admit, I also treasure Dirty Dancing and some other completely meaningless entertainment... :) ]

It simply struck me because I realize these women call from me the things I long to be, the feelings I see in myself some days. Remark -- don't miss the 'some days' portion there.

However, it is in them that I see their strength coupled with determination that makes a difference in the world. They are not women who choose to stay in their comfort and block out the needs in the world. They are flawed women, who looked past the present to challenge the greater ideals and in return, impact the surroundings and people.

It must help too... that all of them fell in love with great, strong, intensely masculine men. Men who did not portion the personalities of these women, but who walked with them and gave them a safe place while the fight for right continued.... Well... I guess it is the movies, right :)

Alas, it just struck me about these fictional women and where I find myself in their plight and in the plot line of my own life, God writing it for me.

Blind Eye.

I want to turn a blind eye. I read from Relavent magazine stories of the Congo and injustices throughout the glove... I have books of child soldiers on my shelves.... I lurk through webpages of stories, and my continuous flow of mail delivering news which calls me forth...

But I want to turn a blind eye. Because all of it makes me feel, and all of it requires action. And I don't know what to do with it all, or how to even try to begin one of the needs. I want to turn a blind eye, simply because it's 'easier' and I can play ignorant so I am not responsible for what I know and the awful, treacherous, heartbreaking actions that are occurring across the earth.

I want to turn a blind eye, but know that I can not. How does one person "decide" how to make a difference? How does one "choose" which area of injustice to target? How does one pray for the God of us all to step forth?...

Two things I miss.

I miss my roommate. I miss coming home and just having her around once in a while, that person who knew the ins-and-outs of my thought process, my family, and the names I mention. Its not that we needed to be inseperable, but at least it felt like someone walked at least bits of my journey with me. Instead now it seems I am always alone when I think, when I eat, when I comfy-up on the couch. I miss her. I miss just grabbing our blankets and watching dumb TV shows just because we could, together...

I miss my friends on phone calls. I miss the fact that they are married or busy or interested in other things, and that I am too. I miss that I don't have hours to call them, nor they me, but there is still something in my heart that feels this intense void of that constant friendship and our phonecalls past state lines.

Gift.

I just received one of the most greatest gifts I've ever received. A student of mine, beautiful bright-eyed perky-smiled kid, came in at the end of the day and handed me a Christmas bag. I asked if he wanted me to open it then, and he nodded with glee showing on his face. I grabbed the paper on the top and was struck. This kid (and his family) donated funds in my name to send an AIDS orphan to school for a year in Zambia! Wow. I have never received a more thoughtful gift; I just kept looking at the paper and looking at him, over and over again and didn't know what to say. Wow. Along with it, I unwrapped a jar of Fair Trade Organic tea [hence from my stint on Fair Trade and my constant plug with the kids] and A Long Way Gone, the book of a memoir of a boy soldier that I have spoke of in class but never completed the whole thing. Wow. What a gift. What a thoughtful gift. And he picked it out knowing me and just how deeply those things would mean to me. I am proud. Proud of my message sent to him on these issues, but proud more so of his glee in jumping on this train and passing the baton on. Wow, what a great, wonderful gift.

Shake Its Fist.

"Her underpinnings had been ripped away with such regularity that she had often been tempted to settle into a life that didn't shake its fist into the Enemy's face."

~ Though None Go With Me by Jerry B. Jenkins

Capture Me Beautiful.

There are several instances where I am posed in a moment of distinct blessing and beauty that I wish it could be captured on film. It really has nothing to do with me, but with the essense of all that is taking place. And perhaps a picture would not be able to portray all that is held within its lense, but there are still these moments.

Moments when a members of my church are bowed over another in prayer.

Moments when I stand next to a friend with our arms outstretched in worship.

Moments when friends curl around a bride with prayers poured out over blessings.

I had one such moment yesterday. I went to a baby shower for a friend; a rather new friend at that. And I just wanted to pick up all the pixels sprinkled around us and put them into film in only the way an excellent photographer can. It's women gathered around with coffee or punch, the smell of sweet baked goods and goat cheese marina sauces spindling the air. Of our hugs as we greet, the pearls on the hostess thin neck. It's the blessing of conversation about books that have blessed us, and boyfriends that bring out the best. It's the blessing of hearing these women really love the Lord with their heart, their lives, their children, and their husbands. These women who make me want to be the best me that I am, who pull out the beauty of that worth.

So it was in these moments, at the end, we circled our blossomed friend and the baby growing inside her. Kneeling around her, we blessed her with our prayers. It was at this moment that I wanted the film to partake in what I knew was so special, so sacred, at that moment, in that place. These friends and mothers laying hands and bringing this radiant beauty to a place filled with glowing embers of fire and brewed hazelnut. This was a moment that was so beautiful, it's one I would capture and frame in my heart.

"And Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart..." Luke 2:19