The Arrival

She's here!

Perfect.

Precious.

A Jubilee!

The Wrestler

Jacob wrestling with God . . .
           seeing him face-to-face and yet prevailing . . .
                            not letting go until he's been blessed . . .

What's the message here?

Our Bible study group recently studied this story in Genesis 32.

I also read this story last February and had some interesting notes:

You too, are a God-Wrestler.  Game on.


Why?  What does that mean?


Israel means "God-wrestler" so God's people are God-wrestlers.


We have to wrestle with the stories, the questions, the meanings, the answers we get -- we wrestle with life, with our sinful natures, with the sinner we are and the saint we're called to be -- we wrestle with the commandments and our calling, our vocation, our relationships, our roles -- we are rarely still and quiet and content -- always wrestling something.  Were we created to wrestle?  or did that come later?  Is it good?  Is it sinful?  Is it the challenge?  Are we blessed through the wrestling?  Is this how we see God face to face?  Do we wrestle in our baptisms when we are renamed? (as Jacob was renamed during his wrestling with God).  Does God deliberately throw us out of joint?  Is our wrestling done alone?  or in community?  Is the wrestling our night?  When the dawn breaks is the wrestling over?  Does the dawn not come until the end of our lives?  Are we on the right path?  Are we supposed to change paths?  What does the wrestling lead to?  point to?

And the question comes:

Elizabeth, what are you wrestling with?

Recently it doesn't feel like I have an answer to that.  I don't feel like I'm wrestling at all.  Perhaps that's why, during our recent study of this text, I didn't get any big revelations.

But last February I had quite a list:

Why can't Joel and Melissa have a baby?  Why don't you just give them one?  Am I making a mistake working so hard when my children are so young?  Am I being the best mom for them?  Do I put other things/people in front of them too much?  What should I take away?  How can I plan things seven weekends in a row?  How can I jet off without them?  They are so little and won't be for long.  I should take them to gym and story time because soon that chance will be gone . . . but I'll always have the chance to lead a Bible study.  Why do we come from an ancient people who were incestuous, polygamist, lying, cheating people?  What's with this wrestling story anyway? 


Lord, I'm not letting go til' you bless me.

And God answers:

I already have.


We are blessed through our wrestling.

Again and again we are reminded that God blesses the ones who are unlikely to be blessed.

Including us.

Bound Yet Free

I just read the bible study in this month's Lutheran Women Today magazine (November 2010).

Topic: Stewardship

Deeper meaning I came away with:

Stewardship is being Bound to Christ yet Free from Chains.

We are bound to Christ -- slaves for him . . . yet not slaves, but stewards who are given the freedom to care for God's people and creation.  We are compelled to care for others with our time, talents and resources: the weak, the outcast, the outsider, the whole body of Christ, the creation, our family, and ourselves.  We are trustworthy in our serving out of response to God's gifts of love to us.

"Stewardship is an expression of our faith, and it is a communal experience." --Emily Hansen pg. 35


"Perhaps this is the mystery you call me to steward, that you love me and each of us regardless of our affection for or claim on you.


Perhaps this is what it means to be bound to Christ, to not be able to get away.  


I am not bound to restrict me, but bound in order to give me a root for my blossoming.


I need your nutrients, God.  I simply cannot be without you.


Help me spend myself, and all that you have given me, for the sake of the world.  Amen."  --Catherine Malotky, pg. 42




Bound yet Free.

Free to give . . . free to serve . . .  free to love the world.

All the while bound in Christ's loving arms.

Stewards for him.

The Tutu

What else do you do when you're waiting for a babe?

Make a tutu, of course!

Also, watch your adorable boys,

And take pictures of their antics.

Joyful Waiting

This has been a pleasant waiting experience.  Relaxed.  Peaceful.  Full of contentment.  Joyful anticipation.

I am unbelievably comfortable -- sleeping well, moving fluidly and gracefully, full of energy.

It's been nice being so ready.  Not rushed or thrown into anything.

I like that.

I like having time to prepare, consider, and think.

I'm a thinker.

It's always nice when a thinker has adequate time and space to think.  They are much happier.


And so the joyful wait continues . . .

 . . . with open arms and a peaceful heart.

Mondays

Monday is bathroom cleaning day.

And so, I cleaned the bathroom today.

Last Monday I thought it'd be the last time I'd clean the bathroom as a mom of two.

But here I am . . . still waiting for the grand entrance of #3.

I really love having a clean bathroom.  Especially on Mondays.  I love it so much that the boys skip their bath on Monday night just so everything stays clean and dry for at least 24 hours (well . . . sometimes stays clean . . .)

And as the wait continues, I'll share a few more of my "God listen-ings" this past year:

• Go.  Do as I say.  I know what I'm doing.
• Live bountifully!
• Build your life, your thoughts, your hopes, your words, your actions on Me.
• On your feet -- get moving!
• Live entirely before me!
• Live to the hilt!
• Nothing is impossible for me.  Nothing.
• I know what I'm doing.   Trust Me.
• You're my daughter -- Live Bountifully!  And your children -- Triumphantly!
• I'll stay with you.  I'll stick with you until I've done everything I promised you -- fulfilled through Jesus.
• You can do all things through Christ -- who strengthens you.
• You too, are a God-Wrestler.  Game on.  [I have some interesting notes on the wrestling story in Genesis 32.  That's for another post . . . remind me.]
• I am here.  and I am your God.
• Life is mine to give and take.
• I know what I'm doing.
• I am your God.  You are my people.
• I know what I'm doing.
• I will give you strength.
• I will give you the words to say.
• I am your guide.
• I will never leave you.
• I know what I'm doing.  Follow Me.
• I'll make sure you live a full and complete life.
• I am here.  Just look!  I am guiding you.
• I will dwell in you -- you are soaked in holiness.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day.

Even if it's not -- it will be a day . . . 

 . . . soaked in holiness.

And a clean bathroom to boot.

Church Family

If you don't know, having a church family is an awesome experience.

This morning I walked through the double glass doors to a whole crowd of people welcoming me, shaking my hand, giving hugs, and asking . . .

"You're still here!?!"

Today is my due date.

And yes, I'm still here.

What a gift to have a whole congregation thinking of me, praying for me and loving me.

I've been blessed enough to always have a church family to call home (sometimes more than one!)

I grew up running the halls and eating potlucks at Gideon Lutheran.  That's where I first played the piano in front of a group of people and helped lead music.  I lost one of my teeth in the boys' bathroom (well, my brother yanked it out while my parents were setting up communion on a Saturday).  I passed notes (and shoes) underneath the table during confirmation class, and stayed up late laughing with friends at lock-ins.  I tasted wine for the first time and hated it.  I sang in Christmas programs, learned in Sunday school, and found out the fireside room was the best hiding spot for hide-and-seek.

When I went off to college, I knew I needed a church home and found it at First Lutheran.  Eventually I started volunteering with kids and ended up as their Youth Director for six years after graduating from college.

Now, at Immanuel, I'm one of the "moms".  My kids run through the narthex, narrowly missing shuffled footsteps while cramming cookies in their mouths.  My boys are in the Christmas programs and coloring Jesus pictures in Sunday school.  My four year old sings the liturgy at home in the living room.   I stand in the narthex talking with others while my kids "patiently" wait.  (That's the other thing I remember about growing up . . . we were always the last to leave.  I still am.)

Yup.  Being part of a church family is pretty much an awesome experience.

Oh, don't doubt that there are bumps and wrinkles in the journey.  It's a family for goodness sakes!  There is conflict and odd opinions and hurt feelings and misunderstandings.  But isn't that a part of all families?  Especially when your family reunions are every week and over 100 of you show up every time.

But it's worth it.

Just think:  when I go into labor (any day now . . .) I will have a whole flock of people praying for me and our little babe.  I will be surrounded by a whole cloud of witnesses.  And the next Sunday when I show up with a tiny bundle of pink, there will be joy.  Amazing.

Granted, being part of a church family doesn't just happen on its own.  You have to show up.  You have to be present.  You have to take the time to talk and get to know those around you.  You have to sign up and participate.  You have to show up for potlucks and be willing to sit by someone you don't know.  You have to help on church clean-up days or volunteer to fold bulletins or be part of a small group or Bible study.  Of course, you're still part of the family if you don't do any of these things -- but you're like a distant relative -- some people recognize your face and maybe know your name.  Maybe.

But to really be a part of a family . . . . it's obvious, isn't it?  You have to be part of the family.

And suddenly you realize . . .

you are part of a gift.

Waiting

And now it's time to wait.

Our baby girl is due to be born tomorrow.  So we'll see when she shows up.

I'm feeling amazingly ready.  Ancient piles that have been collecting dust are now gone and taken care of.  Her room is all adorably set up and ready to go.  My boys are excited to see "her tiny, tiny hands" and they "can't wait to hold her!"  Neither can I.

OK.

Anytime!

We're ready.


As we wait, a few thoughts that caught my attention recently:

From today's reading in My Utmost for His Highest:

". . . simple perfect trust in God, such trust that we no longer want God's blessings, but only want Himself.  Have we come to the place where God can withdraw His blessings and it does not affect our trust in Him?"

Wow.  That's a pretty powerful thought.

Chapter 16 in Ezekiel was pretty powerful too.  That's one of the most intense, graphic chapters I've ever read.  God describes His people as a newborn baby thrown in the street that he rescues, tenderly cares for, eventually marries and lavishes with gifts . . . and despite His love they prostitute themselves to anyone who walks by.

Huh.  No wonder he throws them into exile.

But the good news is that he never forgets them.  He promises that they will be His people and He will be their God.

Forever.

And that's something to trust in.

And, at times, wait for.

Swan Dive

I once asked a friend what to do when it feels like you're about to fall over the edge.

"I swan dive."

I've thought of that often -- the act of letting it all go . . . throwing yourself completely into trust . . . total and utter release.

Swan dive.

Fling wide the door.

Toss it overboard.

Trust.

Listening

I'm trying to listen to God's voice everyday.

Though "voice" may not be the right word . . . direction?  nudges?  calling?  taps on the shoulders?

The question always remains:  how do you know if it's God's voice or your own voice babbling in your head?

I've really enjoyed jotting down the "voice" I hear after reflecting on scripture each day.  Many times it repeats and repeats -- which I guess is one way to know if it's really God speaking.

So, as an experiment, I wanted to transfer some of my listen-ings into keystroke:

• Get rid of the old life.  Live a God-fashioned life -- God's character reproduced in you from the inside out.
• Learn a life of extravagant love.
• Honor and submit to your husband -- as he cherishes you.
• Love much; love well -- so that your love is sincere and intelligent.
• Simply keep on doing what you've done from the beginning.  -- Philp. 12:12
• Enjoy your children; just sit down & smile & enjoy.
• Embrace me and be embraced by me. --Philp 3:8
• Celebrate God all day, every day -- revel in him.  -- Philp. 4:4
• I will never disappoint.
• Enjoy your ministry: your work and your children.
• Keep doing what you're doing.
• Keep on doing what you're doing -- in a living, spirited dance.
• Stay calm.  Mind your own business.  Do your own job.
• Speak encouraging words.
• Grab my hand and Follow Me.
• It's all. about. love.
• Just keep at it.
• Be yourself before Me.
• Keep at your work.
• I don't break promises.
• Live Wet.  Live Windy.  Live Robed.
• Welcome others back.  Forgive.
• Only Jesus.
• Listen.  Trust Me.
• Live with Jesus in the center.
• Keep at it.
• You are free to Live all out for Me.
• Get on with it!  Run for it!  Keep doing what you're doing.
• Do.  Act.  Live what you believe.
• Ask Boldly.
• Stay the Course.
• Roll up your sleeves and get to work!
• That's your job: to bless.
• It's about Me.  Not about you.
• Stuff is just stuff.  Life is just life.  Memories are just memories.  Here today -- gone tomorrow.  But God is God -- eternal, everlasting -- what else matters?
• Don't put it off.  Do it now.
• I won't let you down.
• It will be worth it.
• Welcome them.
• Live a life of love.
• Relax.  Rest.  Open your heart.
• Live Passionate.  Live Faithful.
• I know what I'm doing -- down to the last detail.
• I made you and I know you -- inside and out.

Well, that's enough for tonight.  Those were from last January and February.  It's fun to go back and read them (live them!) again.

And now it's time for more listening.

Always listening.

Because God is always speaking.

Amen!

Hard Times

Sometimes God asks us to do things that are difficult.

I don't have very many times in my life when this has happened -- and especially not to a very high degree . . .

Maybe it's to wait.  Or act.  Or move.  Or move on.

I remember dreading going back to work after I had Blazer.  I remember dreading moving to Moses Lake and leaving my church family and home and town.

But both periods of dread turned into unfathomable joy.

Turns out God knew what he was doing.


I just started reading Ezekiel, and let me tell you, that's a strange book.  For instance, God asked Ezekiel to lay on his left side for 390 days and on his right side for 40 days.  Yikes.  Sounds a bit extreme.  The point, I understand (he was bearing the sin of Israel and Judah -- the amount of days equal to the amount of years they had sinned.)  But still.  That's a pretty tough thing to ask someone to do.

Sometimes the hard things God asks us to do don't turn out to be very hard at all.

Other things probably seem ridiculously impossible.  I haven't hit any of those yet.

But again, through it all, God is there.

"I won't leave you.  I won't forsake you.  I know what I'm doing."

Hard times and all.

Soak

I haven't soaked in a tub in a very long time.

I remember it was a lot more fun when I was small -- you could stretch out all the way and not touch any of the sides . . .  your own private ocean.

My hair would swish, swish, swish back and forth.  It felt wonderful.  A release all the way down to my roots.

Today I remember to Soak in God's Word.

Imagine a tub full of Word . . . wet with baptismal promises, hair swishing like the wind of the Holy Spirit, completely covered -- immersed -- in Jesus.

Soaking.

"If you waste your time in overactive energies instead of getting into soak on the great truths of God's Redemption, you will snap when the strain comes . . . Soaking before God is being spent in getting rooted and grounded in God."  --Oswald Chambers, My Utmost of His Highest, Oct. 19

Soaking in God's Word.

All the way down to my roots.

Marvelous.

Christmas Program

I just finished writing our Children's Christmas Program for the year.

I love doing this stuff!

And now I'm in the Christmas spirit.

So I had to share.

There's sweet baby Jesus with "The Friendly Beasts".

Adorable.

I'm sure it was a bit messier than that.

Suffering

Nothing terrible has ever happened to me.

I don't know why.

I guess some people just get a poor lot in life and some people make it by without encountering tragedy.

I've read about terrible, tragic things.  I've seen them on the television and in the movies.  I've just never had to live them.

In Eugene Peterson's introduction to the book of Lamentations he writes, "[The Exile] is a time of devastation and lament.  It is a terrible experience.  It is impossible to overstate either the intensity or the complexity of the suffering . . . in Jerusalem and continued on into the seventy years of exile in Babylon." --The Message, pg. 1477


Wow.  So terrible you can't overstate how much the people suffered.

The deeper truth of Lamentations is not to explain suffering or tell you how to avoid it.  It "gives dignity to suffering by insisting that God enters our suffering and is companion to our suffering." --Eugene Peterson, The Message, pg. 1478

Today I hear God calling:

"I'm still with you . . . through it all."

No matter what life may bring.  No matter what future terrible, tragic things I may encounter.  No matter how great my suffering . . . God is still with me . . . through it all.

The test will be if I can still believe that in the midst of suffering.

Let's hope I can.

Anxiety

Last night I was anxious.  

Right after I went to bed I started to have some contractions . . . and I realized my bags aren't packed and ready to go.  So I lay there in bed mentally packing a bag and trying to remember where I might have stashed my nursing bras.  And I couldn't remember.  And I started getting more anxious.

And I thought, "Oh man.  Tonight's not a great night.  Ryan's doing the children's sermon tomorrow . . . and we don't have a back-up plan for 11 am worship . . . and MY BAGS AREN'T PACKED!

So this morning, in my other breakfast companion devotional book, I read:

"Anxiety is a result of envisioning the future without Me." (Jesus is speaking) -- Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence by Sarah Young, pg. 304

Huh.

Sounds about right.

In my anxiety, I didn't picture Jesus standing next to me, holding me up during a contraction, helping me pack my bag.  I just figured I had to do it all alone.

But I don't.

What a promise!

When I understand that Jesus' arms are surrounding me -- holding me fast -- comforting me -- the anxiety melts away.

I'm not on my own.

I have Jesus.

Again I hear God calling:

"I am in charge.  I am the King.  I know what I'm doing."

Relief.

Now it's time to go pack my bag.

The Gift

Oswald Chamber's My Utmost for His Highest is my daily breakfast companion (along with my two cereal eating boys).   The bits of wisdom are always thought provoking and usually stick with me the whole day . . . sometimes much longer.  Here's an excerpt from today:

"We are taken up with active work . . . and waste our Lord's time in over-energized activities . . . No Christian has a special work to do.  A Christian is called to be Jesus Christ's own, one who is not above his Master, one who does not dictate to Jesus Christ what he intends to do."  --Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, Oct. 16

If a family member or dear friend . . . or maybe even a mere acquaintance . . . had a crises, would I be able to drop everything and serve them?  Or would I be too focused on my own active/over-energized/special work that I'd say, "Sorry.  I have more important things to do."

What we do with our time and energy seems to boil down to our choices -- what we choose to do at any given moment of the day.  Should I do the dishes or take a nap?  Check my email or read a book to my boys?  Work on a project for church or work on getting baby's room ready?  Should I take a walk or make dinner?  They are all valid choices -- ways to care for myself or my family or my work.  But when we make those choices, we put ourselves in charge.

I am nearing the end of Jeremiah.  It's been quite a book -- lots of doom and gloom for a people who won't listen and obey God.  There are also moments of hope and promise, but the doom and gloom is an important message too.

"I, God, say so, and it will be so." --Jeremiah 49:5ish, The Message 

God says to us:

I am in Charge.

Of. It. All.

What a gift to be able to let go of those constant choices.  What a gift to be able to say, "Lord, should I take a nap or take a walk?"  What a gift to drop our "important" tasks to be able to help someone in crisis.

Or maybe just to sit and chat over a steaming vanilla latte.  (Decaf, of course).

It is a gift that God is in charge.  It is a gift that He is the King.

Of.

It.

All.

Connection

Why are you ruining your lives by amputating yourselves, leaving yourselves isolated, unconnected?  --Jeremiah 44:7, The Message

This morning my nearly two-year-old walked around the house chatting on his cousin's old cell phone.  He had a long, adorable conversation with some long-lost friend or beloved family member.  Already, at almost two, he knows the importance of connection.

It's taken me a long time to understand the value of connection.  My first real teaching happened when preparing for the 2003 ELCA national youth gathering in Atlanta, Georgia.  The theme: Ubuntu, focused on the importance of doing life together.

We can't do life isolated and unconnected.

If we do, we are ruining our lives by amputating ourselves.

In the passage from Jeremiah, God is talking to his chosen people . . . sad and angry that they chose to live isolated and apart from him (God).

Living apart from God is like amputating ourselves.

As is living apart from others.

And so, I want to continue working on my relationships -- strengthening friendships, allowing myself to be vulnerable, giving more than I think I can give.

Is it possible to do this with young children at home and a newborn on the way?  Do I have the time and energy?

Or is it a necessity?  Amputating myself if I do not.

I am because we are.  We are because Christ is.  Ubuntu.

Just Be

I am ten days away from my due date.

And I just took a 3 1/2+ hour nap.

That's about all I feel like doing right now. . . napping . . . and devouring the delectable carmel apple I made at MOPS this morning.

It was delicious.

As a person who loves to be productive and hates "wasting" time, I am surprised at my desire to "just be".  There are quite a few piles and to-do's that are calling my name.  But I'm content with a nap and a carmel apple.

I was recently reading an article called "The Place of the Elder" in my Lutheran Women Today magazine (Oct. 2010).  Martha Sterne writes about an elderly man who had worked hard all his life and saw himself useless because he could not do anymore.  She says, "Nobody ever helped him see it is holy just to be."

It is holy just to be.

I hope this lesson sinks in for me way before my elderly years.  Especially as a mother of young kids . . . and almost a mother of a tiny newborn . . .

It is holy just to be.

It is a gift to be reminded that I don't have to be on hyper-productivity mode every minute of my life, as hard as that may be.

It is holy just to be.

To nap, to mess around on the piano, to take a long leisurely walk, to gaze at my sons and watch them live life, to sit outside and watch cars drive by, to dink around on the guitar, to check facebook, to paint my toes, to get lost in a book, to sit and nurse a tiny babe . . .

It is holy just to be.

I was first introduced to this concept at Camp Lutherhaven a couple years ago.  I was pregnant with my second baby boy and we had signed up to help with Resource Staff.  The hills were killing me; I was too tired to help clean; I couldn't belay; I felt useless.  A good friend and camp staff told me, "It's ok just to be.  You are an example for these kids -- just by being here and giving them an example of a healthy, loving family."

Her permission set me free.  (Though it was still hard . . .)  And this recent article reminded me of the blessing of just being.

Hopefully as the birth of my daughter gets closer and closer, I will remember this important blessing:

It is holy just to be.

And hopefully I can do it . . .

Just Be.

Dream

I have this old-fashioned dream that I wish I could be a part of . . .

back when churches were the social centers of a community.

I imagine having this tight-knit group of friends who gather every month for circle, or even a weekly Bible study.  We'd see each other at all the church potlucks and functions.  We'd chat when dropping our children off for Sunday school and after worship.  We'd quilt or organize service projects together.  We'd have coffee at each other's homes.  Our children would grow up together -- be in Christmas programs and choirs together.

We would be bound, not just by common interests or our stage of life, but by our faith.


Hmmmm . . .

Wait a second . . .

Even as I type this, I realize I have more of this than I think I do.


I have a weekly Bible study with a group of four other women who always bring new insight into the scriptures.  I have moms to chat with before Sunday school and after worship.  I have families and couples to sit with at church potlucks.  I have a wonderful group of women who gather every month for Deborah Circle.  I have a friend who works on Sunday school with me.  My boys have children their age to learn and play with . . . and sing in the Christmas program.  I have my MOPS group full of other moms to laugh and chat with.

Maybe my reality is closer to my dream than I realize.

Maybe instead of a vision of perfection, I need to embrace the beautiful imperfection I've been gifted with.

What joy . . .

. . . to live in the midst of a Beautiful Mess . . .

. . . to live in this dream I am a part of.

Let Me Be Enough For You

If you ever get a chance to do an Augsburg Fortress "Book of Faith" Bible study, you should jump in with both feet.

Totally.

The studies are always amazingly insightful -- I walk away with new thoughts, images and revelations each time.

Right now we're in the book of Genesis.  We've already done Exodus and 1 John.

Today we explored the story of God asking Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. (Genesis 22)

Yikes.  What a story.

It was as if Abraham was thinking, "I don't know what God is doing, but I know God knows what he's doing."

100% trust.

In Martin Luther's Lectures on Genesis he supposes Abraham is thinking, "I am reducing my son to ashes.  Nevertheless, he is not dying.  Indeed, these ashes will be my heir."

Abraham knew God could do anything -- even restore life through death.  He knew God could do the impossible -- the unimaginable.

He knew that the promise would be fulfilled.

And so today, in our lives, we have hope.  We can trust unconditionally.  We don't have to be in charge.

In Genesis
We are reminded . . .  that God's promise will be fulfilled -- even if we aren't willing or able.
We are reminded . . . that the story (our story) is always about God, not about us . . . because the story of life is impossible.  It could never be because of us.
We are reminded . . . that if we put our trust in anything other than God, we are not living as if God is God.
We are reminded . . . that our God will lead us home.
We are reminded . . . that there is hope because of one person (first Noah, Abraham, and finally Jesus).
We are reminded . . . that we have a God that gets sad.  He mourns with us in this beautiful mess.
We are reminded . . . to let God be God.

Today in my life I hear God saying,
"You won't get everything done before your daughter is born . . . but you will get enough done."

"So Relax."

"Take my lead."

"And let the rest go."

"Let Me be enough for you."

And I nod my head.

Yes God, you are enough.  You're all I need.

And I relax, cradled in the Creator's hand.

Vulnerable

"Our efforts to protect ourselves lead us to seek relationships that do not draw us out, that require little, but don't rattle us so we can keep our bearings." --Catherine Malotky, Lutheran Women Today, Oct. 2010 pg. 42

I've never been one to be very vulnerable in my friendships.  I wish I was.  I think I put minimum effort into my friendships -- I like them to be easy and to fit into my schedule.

I imagine what rich, deep friendships are like . . . satisfying, intense, bold and gentle.

I'm not sure I have the energy -- or the will -- to throw myself into rich, deep friendships.  I'm sure the effort is worth it.  I'm sure the beauty spills out of the doors and pours through the windows.

But I keep it safe and keep my distance.

Vulnerability is not my strong suit.

"Human vulnerability is the source of communion in the Kingdom that God desires for us."  --Linda Johnson Seyenkulo and Jensen Seyendulo, Lutheran Women Today, Oct. 2010 pg. 30


The gift of friendship is just that . . . a gift -- precious, fulfilling, life-giving.

Definitely not easy . . . but probably so worth the effort.

Vulnerability -- yet another thing for me to work on . . .

 . . . in my spare time.

The Diaper Cake

Last weekend at my baby shower I unwrapped a diaper cake.

It is too adorable for words.

I was giddy with glee.

A bunch of rolled up diapers are surrounded by flannel receiving blankets and wrapped up in "It's a Girl!" and "Jesus Loves Me" ribbon.  It's topped with a sweet lil' lamb, garnished with pink flowers and a tiny Bible.  There's even a little outfit separating the layers.

Ingenious!

Adorably ingenious.

I can't bring myself to take it apart.  Luckily, I snuck some peaks and discovered the diapers are size 2 and the outfit is 6 months.  So I still have some time.

Relief.  At least for the moment.

Why is it that I have a hard time getting rid of things?  Throwing things away?  Taking them  apart?

Is the adorableness of the diaper cake really adding to my quality of life?  (Actually, right now that would be a "yes".)

I hang onto things way more often than I should.  So does my husband.  You should see our basement.

I discovered that for me, things hold memories.  I believe that if I get rid of something, I'll get rid of that memory and I'll never have that memory again.  Which, realistically, could very well be true.

I want to grip my memories with an iron fist.  I like my memories.  I don't want them to go.

My memories make me who I am.

But maybe memories are supposed to be a gift -- floating in and out of our consciousness -- coming and going at a whim.  Maybe it's ok to let some of them go.  Maybe I am not me because of my memories, but I am just me -- a child of God.  Memories or not.

It seems to circle back to my experiment of letting-go of control -- first my to-do lists and now my memories.

God has some beautiful words for us in Jeremiah:

"Thanksgivings will pour out of the windows; laughter will spill through the doors." (30:19)

"I'll refresh tired bodies; I'll restore tired souls." (31:25)

Now that is joy: pouring, spilling, laughing, refreshing, restoring . . .

That is for today.  That is for the future.  Memories not required.

And perhaps a slice of diaper cake to go with it.

I Know What I'm Doing

In a world where sometimes we think we know what we're doing, and lots of times we don't know what we're doing, and perhaps trying to get a handle on what-the-heck-we're-doing, we hear God speak:

"Listen.  I know what I'm doing."

"For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope." --Jer 29:11 NRSV

Jeremiah 29:11 is such a beloved Bible verse for so many people.  It's on plaques and bookmarks; framed and written in calligraphy; on paperweights and scribbled on post-it notes.  It's all over.

Last night I realized it was written to a people in exile.  A people torn away from their homes and families, captured and dragged to a foreign land.

Exile.

Imagine it:

Being surrounded by unfamiliar sounds and smells and tastes and customs.
Torn away from everything you know and love.
Conscious that it will last a very long time . . . 70 years . . . perhaps your lifetime.

It sounds like a pretty sorry lot in life.

God's people don't always have it easy.  It's not smooth sailing just because you have faith.

God's people have it rough.

There are the typical valleys we go through . . . the ones in my life tiny compared to so many others'.

And there are the major ones: loss of health and life and loved ones, loss of job or shelter or source of food, war or violence or extreme injustice.

And God has words for us . . . spoken first to a people who knew they'd be in exile for 70 years:

God tells them that when 70 years are up, "I'll show up and take care of you as I promised and bring you back home.  I know what I'm doing.  I have it all planned out -- plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.  When you call on me, when you come and pray to me, I'll listen.  When you come looking for me, you'll find me.  Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I'll make sure you won't be disappointed."  God's Decree."   --Jeremiah 29:10-14, The Message

In the midst of our crises -- big and small -- there is God.

He knows what he's doing.

I'm glad someone does.

Come to Me

One of my favorite moments of the day is when my almost-two-year-old runs into my bedroom, fresh from waking up, a huge smile on his face, exclaiming,

"Ma-Nee!"

Pure joy!  Raw excitement.  Nothing but love, love, love.

I imagine . . . what would it be like if we woke up like that every morning?

Our eyes open, still a bit groggy, but full of love, love, love . . . and we exclaim,

"Daddy!"

Nothing more.  Just a joy-filled, rich and pure exclamation of love for God.

Would our day be different?  Would our lives be richer?  Would it be . . .

Pure joy!

Choose Life

"Listen carefully.  I'm giving you a choice: life or death."  --Jeremiah 21:8, The Message


I watch my two boys jump and giggle and play -- clad in pajamas and joyful from a full night's sleep. I lie sleepily in bed, with a genuine smile on my face . . . perfectly content to have two boys climbing, clamoring, and poking me.  When I see them, I see life.

Maybe it's impossible for small children to choose anything but life.

But what about us?  In our daily choices . . . our everyday moments . . . do we choose life or death?

For me, choosing life is choosing to forgive . . . choosing to serve . . . stretching my arms out to receive God's goodness.

It is about continuing this experiment -- letting God direct my day instead of my many to-do lists.  It's about listening for the whisper . . . perceiving the nudge . . . to take a morning walk or an afternoon nap or write a few thank you notes or play a silly game or work on a baby book or sweep the floor.

Perhaps the nudge will lead me to something unexpected . . . something unplanned . . . something I didn't give as much importance to . . .

. . . but something beautiful.

To Life.

Be Watered

When a plant is being watered it has no choice whether to be watered or not.  It just is.

So the phrase, "be watered" is a fascinating one to me.

When I hear God calling me to "Be Watered" it makes it seem like I have a choice in the matter.  I can either refuse the water or accept it with wide open leaves.

Though Jeremiah passes a message from God of white-hot anger to the chosen people, there are moments of grace -- moments of the gift of God's goodness:

"Like trees replanted in Eden -- putting down roots near the river [of Life!] . . . never a worry . . . serene and calm through droughts . . . bearing fresh fruit."  Jeremiah 17:7-8

I can go about my day not noticing the dew . . . the wetness . . . the rain . . . the water from God.

Or I can go about my day with my branches reaching high -- arms outstretched -- thirsty for this Water of Life.  I can Be Watered.

Never a worry.  Serene and calm.  Bearing fresh fruit.

What a delight!


"Be Watered," I hear the whisper of God, "You are Mine."

You Are Mine

I've been trying an experiment -- to let go of some of my lists.

I am a list person. I thrive on them.

But I've been wondering -- are my lists an act of function, or an act of control?

The exercise has been wonderful -- freeing. Perhaps even enlightening.

I'm letting God direct my day -- leading me from one task to another . . . from rest to projects to reading stories or playing with my boys . . . to going outside or working on something quite unexpected.

Though God's anger against his people is white hot and he's ready to send them off into exile -- he says of his people, "I haven't lost track of a single one of them." (Jeremiah 16:17)

"And guess what daughter?" he says to me,

"I haven't lost track of you either."

Though I think I may fall apart without my lists and without my sense of control, the fact is, I won't.

There is joy in giving it up . . .

Joy in hearing God say, "Elizabeth, you are mine."

The Valley

Faith is not just about following Jesus in the big, exciting moments.

It's about following Jesus in the valley . . . the ordinary . . . the day-lies . . .

It's about serving God and family when I clean the bathroom every Monday morning; vacuum the carpets on Tuesday, mop the kitchen on Wednesdays, sweep the hallway on Thursdays . . .

It's about serving God and family when I do the laundry -- repetition in fabric and water and soap. Turn the dial, pull them out, up the stairs, down the stairs, fold, put away. It's a gift to have a family to care for. It's a gift to have small children who get clothes and towels and sheets dirty . . . throw up, wet nights, blow-out diapers, chocolate ice cream, a box of sand.

Monday: towels, Tuesday: boys' clothes, Wednesday: bedding and kitchen towels, Thursday: our clothes.

The schedule helps the valley to keep its rhythm -- like the rising and setting of the sun; the circle of the seasons.

"The batterings always come in commonplace ways and through commonplace people . . . the little "I am" always sulks when God says do." --Oswald Chambers

I guess the ordinary -- the valley -- can be tedious or beautiful.

I choose beauty.

At least for today.

Obey Me

I have been reading Eugene Peterson's The Message for over a year now.

Brilliant.

It's the Bible written in today's vernacular.

. . . a comfort . . . a challenge . . . a fountain of life on a daily basis.

I'm in the midst of Jeremiah and I'm struck by God's white hot anger. So angry. And yet so patient with a people who forget, ignore, and turn the other way. I think I would have got tired of them long ago.

But I also remember I'm one of those forgetful, turned-the-other-way people.

Today God says to me, "Obey Me."

And I answer, "Lead me in your way."