Mystery Neighbor

I will eventually get back to the house story, but tonight I have something else on my mind. That something else is actually a some"one" else. It is my neighbor.

He lives right next door. Our yards join. I have lived in this home for just over 4 months and I have never even laid eyes on the man. The winter was rough and long and to tell you the truth spring has been a little less than appealing. The weather just hasn't been all that conducive to being neighborly. I understand.

I finally met the gal across the street and the family whose yard joins "mystery neighbor" on the other side. Apparently they saw him once, but not again and expressed that if they passed him on the street, they would have no idea who he was.

So today, while working in the yard on the side of the house closest to his, I hear his car pull in and the garage door raise. Hoping this might be the chance to meet him, I take a quick peek his way just as he pulls into the garage. I wait expectantly for that moment when I might call out a cheery hello. Disappointment replaces expectation as he begins to drop the door the second the tail of his car is clear. I don't even think he had turned off the ignition quite yet.

My heart began to ache for him. What causes a person to desire such aloneness? He lives alone in a relatively large home. Obviously he wants nothing to do with his neighbors, but who does he want something to do with?

Maybe his life is great and full outside the confines of this subdivision. Perhaps he has a great circle of friends and coworkers. It is possible that the rest of his world is busy and hectic and he wants his time at home to be quiet place of refuge away from the craziness of life. Perhaps.

Something tells me, though, that his "hiding" goes much deeper. I wonder how his thinking might change if he knew his neighbor cared.

A New Home? (Part 2)

The end of my last blog left us pondering and praying. What would our dream home look like? What was important to each of us in a home? Dare we begin to dream about it at all? Did the Lord have something in mind for us?

Our dreams included: Space for all our kids to come home with their growing families, a main level master bedroom, another room on the main level for aging parents and grandchildren to visit. Dan, being a lover of movies and enjoyer of game playing wanted guy space, maybe even a "man cave". I longed for a place for my piano, my music and my other creative outlets, scrap-booking, paper-crafting, sewing, etc. Outdoor space was also a high priority. We both love being outside and hoped for space to play and garden.

Our dreams were big. They were after all just hopes, ideas, and possibilities. Musings at this point in the game have no boundaries.

Just for fun we contacted a realtor friend, gave her our price parameters and possible areas we might like to live. She lined up a realtor search engine for us and we began to receive emails detailing homes for sale that fit our parameters. Over the course of the next 2 and a half years we viewed a few hundred houses. Most of these we rejected online , but occasionally we would schedule an appointment to see a house or two. We did not have to move, so we were in no hurry. We also decided the home/property needed to be at least a 9.5 for us or we wouldn't even consider it. We were content, but still curious as to what God might be doing. Still, it was a wee bit scary at the same time. Moving is a huge decision and we were not considering it lightly.

In the middle of my prayers regarding the buying and selling of homes, God reminded me of a scripture in Luke 11 which says, "Which of you Fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?" This scripture reminded me that I could trust the Lord to give me what I needed, but it also inspired me to pray a little differently. We did not know what was best for us in this situation. We knew what we liked, but we didn't fully know what to ask for or if we should move. Sometimes I believe that our prayers are not answered in the way that we desire because it is not what is best. Perhaps we are asking for a scorpion, or, that is, something that could be harmful to us and we don't even realize it. So with that in mind, I asked the Lord to protect us from what we were possibly seeking. Were we asking for a snake? a scorpion? Would moving be detrimental to us? Was a move okay, but certain homes were not the best choice for us?

We needed and wanted His protection.

A New Home? (Part 1)

I can't believe I left us standing in the kitchen for almost 4 months. We can all surmise that moving is all-consuming and writing time has been squeezed out of my life.

Before I move farther into the nitty gritty of life in the new home, preparing and selling the old home, I want to share how we came to own this new residence.

We were contentedly living in the world of "someday we might like to move and get more of what we would consider our dream home and most likely our final home." Then one day my husband takes a bike ride out in the flat land of the river bottoms. He stops at the end of his route to grab a drink of water, and begins a conversation with a woman pulling out of her drive-way. He tells her that he loves it out there and that her property is really nice. She casually tosses out the invitation, "Do you want to buy it?" As it turns out her daily commute was an hour both ways and she was weary of living where she did.

So my husband comes home, tells me about the conversation and the next thing you know we have made an appointment with the family to see the home. We absolutely fell in love with the property, which was three acres of flat land, including a grove of trees with a creek running through deep in the back yard. The home would need some work, but the property itself was so enticing. My husband loved the thought of living in a place that he could jump on his bike and ride. It seemed a bit isolated for me, but I too loved the property and thought I could adjust. For me the thought of what I could do with a garden there encouraged me to press forward.

The housing market had taken a hit and we would be able to get it for a great price if they were willing. We made an offer. They decided, though, that perhaps they were not quite ready to sell. No worries for us. We didn't have to move. We let it go easily enough.

Well, almost...What happened that we had not anticipated were the questions that begin to rise about a possible move. Was it time to start thinking about it? Did God want to stir that thought in our hearts and minds and did He use this house to push us toward opening the door to a new home sooner than we anticipated. Those questions led to the big question of what do we even want in a home? We had lived in our present home for over 20 years at this point. We were settled and not musing about the next home much. It was time to do some soul-searching, thinking, talking and of course, praying.

The Moving Saga, Part 2

The house is ours! We have a closing date! Excitement abounds, but panic lurks at the door. Suddenly we are thrown into rush mode, right as we are headed into the holidays. When you are thrown into rush mode, but there is absolutely no time to physically do what needs to be done, then the head rushes along without the body. For me, that equals no sleep. There were so many nights I lay awake thinking that I should just get up and let my body join what my head was already doing. Still, I thought it was probably best for me to at least allow my body down time, even if the mind was not in agreement. I have learned that it is possible to go many nights with little sleep and survive. Grumpiness is a side-effect, however.

Finally we arrive to Dec 27, and I am able to draw a breath and begin to pack. Fortunately, the office is closed giving me extra hours to concentrate on the home stuff. Closing day is two days away and we have scheduled the following Friday and Saturday as move days. It will land on a holiday, but we have some very gracious friends and family who agree to help. (Bless you all!) The Tazmanian Devil had nothing on me as I whirled around packing in a fury. We had decided to leave most of the major furniture to stage the old house, but everything that could fit in a box and all the extra furniture was headed to the new house.

I gave the shout out for boxes and friends were kind enough to oblige. Every box that arrived was filled, taped shut and stacked in the dining room and living room.

Closing day arrived cold and rainy, but it couldn't damper our spirits. We headed off to sign the papers. Once every line was signed or initialed and dated we made our way to the our new home. We grabbed lunch to go on the way, so we could celebrate with a first meal in our new, yet empty kitchen. It wasn't until I stood in the kitchen that I was overwhelmed with emotion. The house was really ours...a gift from God's hand alone. "It was not by their sword that they won the land, nor did their arm bring them victory; it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face, for you loved them. In God we make our boast all day long, and we will praise your name forever." (Ps 44: 3, 8)

Perhaps I will blog later about how we came to purchase this home, but for now I will leave us in the kitchen, amazed and filled with gratitude! It wasn't the Extreme Makeover Ty Pennington's voice I heard that day, but a whisper of the Spirit saying "Welcome home, Drissell family, welcome home!

The Moving Saga, Part 1

Hello, Blog! I've moved, but you are still easy to find, unlike almost everything else I own. It has been nearly 24 years since my last move and perhaps I had forgotten how tough moving can be, even across town and even when you choose to do it. Here are some things I am learning anew with this move.

It is stressful and there is no way around it. I feel so blessed to have this house and feel God's hand was in the whole thing, so somewhere in the back of my head full of denial, I must have thought it would be a wholly blissful occasion. Wrong. Let's set the scene a bit.

The circumstances surrounding the purchase of this home left us in the world of possibility, maybe an inkling of probability and absolutely no promise. We had no idea if we would actually acquire it or when until about 10 days before we signed the papers and even then were not 100% certain until those documents were autographed. We did not want to sell the home we presently owned until we knew for sure either as we did not have to move and did not want to be without a place to live.

Second point of stress: It is December. That statement alone probably says enough, but let me expound. I work for a church. The busiest days of the year are in December. One aspect of my job is that I help plan services, so I had an integral role for putting together a Christmas Eve service as well as the Sunday that followed two short days later. The weekend prior to Christmas, our sons graduated from college and needed to be moved out of their apartment and to their new residences. This was the week we got word the house indeed would be ours and we would close on Dec. 29th. Let me remind you that in the midst of all this there is still shopping to be done, meals to prepare, gifts to wrap, etc. and the family and other holiday celebrations.

Packing was delayed on two counts. I didn't know for sure if I was moving AND there was absolutely no time. So, following Dec. 26th service, the frantic move preparations began.

I am feeling a bit stressed just relaying all this and am up to my eyeballs in boxes, so stayed tuned for Part 2.

Carry on...

This evening I was posting an update on facebook. I meant to write the word carrying, but wrote the word caring instead. I found my mistake and corrected it, but it got me to thinking about the words and their relationship to one another. You could say they sound very similar. In a verbal conversation you might have to rely on content to understand what the speaker meant.

The spelling of the two words are of course different and they have quite different meanings really, but tonight I saw them in a whole new light for some reason. Could it be that when we care about another person, that is, caring for them, that we are carrying them somehow. When we care for another we help them carry their burdens, we help lighten their load.

Carry on...

The Introvert in Me

I once told a friend that I am complete extrovert and complete introvert. It is so true. I am all about relationships and have been told that I know how to do friendship. I love being with people and sharing life, laughing, crying, being quiet together, shouting "Hallelujah!", whatever the moment calls for. Sometimes it is all those in quick succession. The me that is the extrovert loves this stuff. It energizes her!

What of that other side, though? Who is she? What does she need? I ran into her again this weekend. I was attending a songwriter's conference. At the heart of the conference are the words, build relationships. I understand the necessity of those relationships and I don't totally withdraw, but I also don't throw the door open wide and say, "Ya'll come on in!" I chat with those around me even if they are strangers to me, but when everyone is taking pictures of each other and passing their contact info back and forth, I stand back and watch.

I offered hospitality as I hosted two ladies for the event. One I knew, mostly via the internet and a few phone conversations, the other I would meet for the first time when I picked her up at the airport. I think the introvert reached back and grabbed the extrovert pushing her in front momentarily for these situations. The extrovert was happy to do it!

What does this introvert side of me need, as I stand back and observe? Just as I can be strengthened by being in the company of others, the other side of me needs quiet and space to be renewed and refreshed. She also wants to know that those relationships are honest, real and trustworthy. So knock on the door and please don't be offended if it opens slow and cautiously from time to time. The next time you knock, I could very well throw it open wide and say "Ya'll, come on in!"

It's Just Different

Driving in a foreign country can be a difficult task at best. In the states, the steering wheels are on the left side of the car and we drive on the right side of the road. (Well, we are suppose to at any rate.) We recently traveled to Ireland and Great Britain. My husband did the driving and I was grateful. We rented a car with manual transmission, so he not only had to make the adjustment of sitting on the opposite side of the car, driving on the opposite side of the road, but also shifting with his left hand. My task was to remember that the left side of the car was now the passenger side and of course not to gasp inappropriately.

Some of the roads were just wide enough for one car to pass through and had rock walls on either side. Sure made it interesting when another car was approaching. Someone had to be willing to give and hopefully there was a driveway or some little spot to squeeze into so the other could pass. We occasionally had to back up to find such a spot.

Then there was the roundabout. Great idea as long as traffic was at a minimum. No stopping to wait at a light when there were no other vehicles in sight. It was also great if you missed your exit. You could just give it another go and turn off when you came around to it again. The downside, though, if you accidentally took the wrong exit, you had to go a long way before you could find another roundabout to adjust your mistake. They also worked well when everyone was in the correct lane for their exit, otherwise there was a whole lot of random rushing round the ring. During rush hour it became a circular traffic nightmare.

Probably the most difficult aspect of driving in an unfamiliar country is interpreting the road signs. It's a wee bit disconcerting to read a sign and think, "I wonder what that means?" Oh, well, keep driving. We didn't purposely set out to disobey the rules, but we did occasionally get flipped off or honked at. What with the speed cameras every few kilometers in Northern Ireland(or was it miles there?) we will yet find out if we broke the rules if and when we get a ticket in the post (mail). One chap told us there was no need worry about it because we were foreign and if we got a ticket we could disregard it. Not sure about that, Buddy!

I leave you with one of my favorite signs: "Incident Ahead". Yeah, I figured. Such is life!

Who's On Top?

I have just returned from a trip to the British Isles. To use accurate terminology, I have returned from Ireland and the United Kingdom. Since they don't really belong to England, I can't say that I blame Ireland for not wanting to be lumped in with the rest. It can be quite confusing. Ireland is its own country while Northern Ireland and Scotland belong to Great Britain. The later then, are the united part, but are they really? Scotland, while it uses the English pound also still has their own banknotes, though no coinage. Northern Ireland, though it "belongs" to England seems more Irish than English. There isn't even a sign that welcomes you from Ireland to Northern Ireland. If not for our GPS telling us we were driving in measured miles instead of kilometers, we would not have known that we crossed a boundary. No "check point Charlie", no checking of the passports.

We were traveling in Ireland when the U.S. was playing in the World Cup. The U.S. came out ahead of England and Ireland cheered not for their close neighbors, but for us. I find that interesting. While talking to one of our B & B hosts in Scotland he had no desire to wrestle with me over the fact that Scotland belonged to England. He was resigned to it, but none to happy about it. We were inundated with history and who belonged to whom and when. It was hard to keep up and keep it all straight, but here are some of the thoughts I was left with.

1. It's a power thing. Every country (and man) wants control of or power over another, or perhaps many. Our natural state is to be in the position of top dog.
2. No man wants to be ruled by another. Our natural state is to push back when pushed.
3. No man wants to be associated with something they do not believe in. Our natural desire is to be free to decide, to make our own choices.
4. Man will eventually resolve to live within certain confinements, but still deep inside rebel against the restraints.
5. That resolution will eventually dissolve and the rebellion will have it's say.
6. Someone (or some nation) will still have the power and resignation and rebellion will continue to do their dance.

What is this feeling?

Tonight I attended a surprise birthday party for a good friend. I was thankful to be a part of it. If I can separate myself for just a moment I want to look one direction and say it was a wonderful evening. There were a bunch of great people getting together for a very good reason...to celebrate the life of a very special lady. Now, if I turn the other direction I have to confess that there was something else going on inside of me.


What was that feeling? Awkwardness? Isolation? I felt, I don't know...out of place somehow? Not sure I totally understand the feeling. While there were some people there that I was not familiar with, a good part of the group I know well and call my friends and a whole bunch of the others, I know on a casual level.

I caught up with people, engaged them in conversation, laughed with others. Hugs were plentiful as we greeted one another, and yet there was an aspect of me that felt almost shadow-like. There, but not really. Perhaps you are wondering what I was drinking that night. My choice drinks...water and de-caf coffee. It wasn't in the water, but I was experiencing it. Anyone else ever feel this way?

I am just processing the feelings. I find them very curious. Thoughts?

At Retreat's End

Yesterday I closed the door on a retreat I took alone for a week. These were my parting thoughts.

Today I leave this place, this retreat from the everyday. I am moving slowly, thoughtfully. Packing some, a little cleaning, reading, writing. The question looming in my mind still: What is it that happened here these last few days? What are the lessons learned? the wisdom gleaned? I sat down for a minute and picked up the book Answered Prayers: Love Letters from the Divine by Julia Cameron. I opened it randomly. The page I turned to said this:

"You have a sense of weariness. The world tires you. You hunger for renewal but seek to find it in sleep, not experience. You are too much with yourself. Come to me. Let me awake you gently. Let me show you the world through my eyes. I have seen everything, and I have seen it over and over, but I am not tired of this world. To me all things are new, all things are possible. You are not old. You are just being born. Your consciousness is just waking up to its potential.

Live with me. Commit to this life. It is an unfolding odyssey. You do not know the end of your journey. Each day holds new thoughts and new footfalls. Dare to have an adventurous heart. I do. I am the great adventure and I am available to you. Bring me your stagnant days and allow me to infuse them with freshness, with the flow of grace and ideas. I am brimming with life. I am a fountain of new thoughts and experiences. Allow me to rejuvenate you. Bring me your tired soul. I am the deep water your spirit craves. I am the well you long to drink from to slake your travel-weary thirst. Come to me tired and worn. Ask me to refresh your heart. Offer me your long day's journey. We are only starting, you and I."

I wept!

So I pack all this crazy stuff I brought along on the journey. I load the car. I travel home. I go to rehearsal tonight for worship on Sunday. I step back into the everyday. I look exactly the same as when I left, but inside, my heart is more willing to trust Him for who He has created me to be. I realize now that every time I second guess myself, I second guess my Creator. In that doubt I say to Him that He could not possibly have chosen well. I tell Him that I cannot live up to the gifts, the talents, the dreams He has planted in me. Why would I ever believe that He would separate Himself from those things? He did not make me and then toss me out to work it out on my own. He is the very life and breath of those gifts and we walk side by side, Him pointing to all the things I need to see. Him calling me to listen to the sounds of life all around me. Him reminding me to breathe in the beautiful fragrance of all He is...all He has given. If I may quote my own song title, I truly do "Dance with the Divine".

Autumn...I Apologize!

An apology is in order. Autumn, I have always withheld my admiration for you. You are the thief that comes in and carries summer away. Sometimes you come in subtly and we are slow to notice the change. Other times you come over night with your cool wind and frosty bite, causing us to quickly bump up the thermostat.

I love summer! It makes me happy! Summer speaks to all my senses. My eyes are drawn to bright, beautiful gardens, boats floating on lakes, baby animals in every field and forest. Children's laughter fills the air as they play in the pools and run through the garden sprinklers. Birds and squirrels in the nearby trees shatter and chirp all day. Summer thunderstorms are a glorious concert of light and sound! How about that crack of the bat on the ball, in that great summer game of baseball. Can't you smell the fresh cut grass or the sweetness of the rose garden? Watermelon, fresh grown tomatoes and corn on the cob make the mouth water for the hot, steamy growing season. My body rejoices with summer and it's burden is light...no heavy sweaters or coats and sandaled feet that can breathe with ease. Summer helps me relax, as I float in the middle of the lake...just me, the water and the sky!

Autumn, with your gorgeous hues, you come and steal summer away. I have held that and one other thing against you. It's that day we call Halloween. I can't even say that I am not a fan of Halloween because my dislike of this so called holiday goes much deeper than that. But, October, it is not your fault and I shouldn't hold you accountable.

You are teaching me something this year aren't you, Fall? (I wonder why you are the only season that gets two names.) You are brilliantly beautiful, and though the breath of death is on the sidelines waiting its turn there is still so much life in you. If I listen, I hear the rustle of leaves as I walk on the path and the crisp snap of an acorn beneath my feet. The squirrels are frantic, swishing their bushy tails as they flit about gathering the bounty for their winter storehouses. As the summer flowers close their blooms to colder days, fall's mums burst forth with life, ready to withstand the cool, frosty nights. And who would have imagined that the tender little pansy could be so resilient as she adds her color to the autumn days. The hot days of summer wither her, but when the days become shorther, colder, she rises to the occasion.

The trees do their best work in autumn. Who would have thought there could be so many shades of red, yellow and orange. I hope that I am like them. I hope that as I grow older, beauty radiates from me and that I burn in glorious color...doing my best work yet. You've taught me something this year, Autumn. Winter comes soon enough, but for now it can hang out in the wings, blowing out it's frosty breath, waiting to make an appearance. I have some shining yet to do! Autumn, I apologize for not appreciating you. Thanks for the lesson!

Seeds

Autumn is harvest time. The majority of us don't harvest any crops. We may have a backyard garden which yields its fruit mid-summer and into the fall, but that isn't exactly harvesting. At any rate this harvest time of the year has got me thinking about seeds. Unless the seed is planted there will be nothing to gather at the end of growing season.

What happens, though, if the seed itself is not healthy. It doesn't produce a very good crop. Let's think about this together. A seed needs to germinate, to grow roots and to simultaneously grow a stalk that can push up to the surface toward the light. A damaged seed may not be able to become well rooted. It might grow roots, but not have enough energy to push upward toward the surface of the dirt above it. If it does manage both, perhaps it will wither soon after beginning to sprout. Let's say the seed is healthy enough to do all this pushing and shoving of dirt. It breaks the surface. It grows, but it hasn't enough stamina to bear any fruit for its labor.

There are all kinds of seeds that can get planted in our hearts. These tiny grains may be healthy, such as, truth, love, joy, or hope. They also can be kernels of doubt, anger, pain, bitterness, or resentment. These are unhealthy seeds. I am wondering what kind of fruit these latter seeds will produce, yet I find it interesting that most of us are so willing to fertilize these kernels. Perhaps it is subconscious effort, but still we allow ourselves to feed them until they become a large fruitless, thorny bush. I am wondering what would happen if we were willing to unearth the damaged grains, cast them aside and begin to water and nourish the good ones that are also there, but getting crowded out as the others grow into worthless weeds. What if we allowed the Son to cast His light on the small but healthy seeds of truth, love, and joy. What would the hope within look like if we allowed The Gardener to attend His crop?

"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf." Hebrews 6:19

"Break up your unplowed ground and do not sow among thorns." Jeremiah 4: 5

What does the landscape of your heart look like today? Are you going to continue to do-it-yourself and feed those worthless seeds, that grow into briars and thorns or will you let The Gardener water and shine His light on the seeds He has planted there?

Solitude

I am on a retreat. I am alone. I have been on many a retreat, and some of those times I was the retreat organizer. I have to be very honest and tell you that when you are the organizer, it is NOT a retreat for you. I don't mind, though, because I love to help other people find space, refreshment, rejuvenation, or maybe just a place to get some much needed sleep. Being alone is not unusual for me either. Now that I have sent 4 children along their merry way into the grown-up world or should I say nearly grown-up world, I find myself alone a lot of the time. I don't mind that either. I am fond of the quiet, but quiet doesn't mean non-busy for me.

People often ask me what I do for a living. My response is that I do absolutely nothing for a living, but I never do absolutely nothing. I am one of the busiest unemployed people I know. I work, I just do it all for the fun of it. Okay, sometimes it isn't all that much fun, but I give my time, because I like to and because I can. Beyond my volunteer time, I am a homemaker, a wife, a mom to 4 grown children who do still require that I engage in their lives, a sister, and a daughter. I am a musician, a singer/songwriter, a pianist, a player of gigs, a student of piano and music theory, a worship leader, a worshiper, one who loves and pursues God, a student of the Word, a small group leader, a gardener, a scrapbooker, a paper crafter, an avid reader, a perpetual student, and a friend who loves spending time with those friends. I am often an event planner, I help put other volunteers in place, help plan worship services, a sometimes childbirth instructor, a sometimes labor coach (doula), a traveler, a photographer, etc. etc. etc. One who is very close to burnout!

I am on a retreat. I am alone. Solitude.

Bikes, Bridges and Songs

I am a songwriter. There I said it! I am working on believing it. There are certain things about songwriting that frustrate me to no end! A few weeks ago the angst of it totally outweighed the joy and I quit. Yep! I was completely done with this writing thing. The problem is I am compelled to write. God must have planted something in me that said, "Here is a little writing seed. Let's see how she will nuture it, feed it, water it and help it to grow!" Sometimes I want to say, "Really, God? Are you sure THIS seed wasn't meant for the next guy in line?"

And so I constantly work through this rollercoaster ride of writing. The day after I quit I went to a songwriter meeting. I write, I don't write. I lay it down, I pick it up. I quit, I start again! And so for the last few weeks I have been wrestling with this writer in me.

Four days after the big "I quit" I went for a long bike ride with my husband. The half-way point of our ride was at the center of a high bridge over the Missouri River. Here is where you need to know something about me. If I have a phobia, it is bridges. It only includes large bridges over somewhat large bodies of water. My fear isn't so strong that I would drive a hundred miles out of my way rather than cross the bridge, but I do have the same reoccuring thought each time I go over..."What if something happens and I go over the bridge and into the water?" This anxiety is twinned with the fact that I am also not a fan of heights. I'll do them, but I don't like it very much.

So the ride...We approach the bridge and I come to a full stop and step down off the pedals and just stare at the path that goes out over the bridge. I turn to my husband and say, "I am not sure I can do this!" He comforts me in saying, "We don't have to, you have already went farther than you ever have. It has been a good ride." I ponder his words for just a moment and I hop back on the bike, push hard on the pedals, compelling my bicycle and my heart to move forward across the bridge. I had gone farther than I ever had before, but there was just a little farther that I could go.

While riding toward the middle of that very high bridge over a large body of moving water, it occurred to me that it was a whole lot like songwriting. Something right dab in the middle of songwriting scares me. I'm not sure I can even define it. It could be the fear of critique, fear of failure, maybe it is a fear of succeeding. What I did know in that moment was this: I had come a long way, farther than I ever had before, but there was so much farther that I could go.

Living in Relationship

I wrote the following blessing for a friend of mine. The prayer of St. Francis that it is based on is posted just before the blessing I wrote. It is meant as a blessing for marriage, I wonder, though, if we lived this out in all our relationships what kind of a place our immediate worlds would become. Consider it...

St. Francis of Assisi
Lord, makeus instruments of your peace.Where there is hatred, let us sow love; Where there is injury, pardon; Where there is discord, union; Where there is doubt, faith; Where there is despair, hope; Where there is darkness, light; Where there is sadness, joy; O Divine Master, grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.


St . Francis’ prayer, adapted below as a blessing for marriage: For my friend, Faith.

-When you are peaceful, Christ’s quiet peace comes to your home.

-A covering of love overshadows any hate that could rise up in your heart toward your spouse, something your spouse does or for others that touch your lives and affect your married life.

-When you hurt each other, and you will…forgive.

-When you don’t agree, and there will be those times, find places and things you both say “yes” to.

-When discouragement comes, as it does, remember to build each other up and remind one another of God’s faithfulness.

-When despair knocks at the door, remind each other of the One you believe in, the only Hope.

-When the dark night comes, light a candle together, recognizing that you are never alone. The Holy Spirit resides in each of you and in the midst of your marriage.

-When sorrow sits down at your table, and it comes uninvited, raise your glasses and toast to its counterpart, joy! Celebrate how much joy He is bringing you on this journey together.

-Be the first to console the other. Go out of your way to try to understand who God has created the other to be.

-Be competitive in loving the most.

-Give, give, give, and you will receive.

-Forgive and forgive again. You will be forgiven.

-Lay down your life for the other, in this your marriage draws its breath and strengthens its heartbeat.

Hoping Doesn't Make it So

Really? Has it honestly been nearly three months since I've posted on this blog? I love blog writing, but I sure don't act like it! Makes me wonder what else I say I love, but don't behave in a way that would prove to anyone that I do!

Let's see...
I say I'd love to be thin. I'm not talking skinny. I'm just talking healthily thin, or just right. Okay, I'm at least working on one aspect of this. I have always thought that I was a pretty conscientious eater. I love my veggies. Lately I've been learning so much more about what eating well REALLY means. I'm eating cleaner, better, more healthily than perhaps I ever have. Not "just right" yet, but headed that way, hopefully.

I'd love to be toned and strong...Yeah? How many weights am I lifting? How many of those muscles am I using? Some. Somedays more than others. Enough to get me where I want to be? Probably not!

What about my heart? I'm talking physical heart in this case. My family has a history of heart disease. Perhaps it was their genes, or maybe their diet, their aerobic exercise or lack there of. I would guess a combination of all three with a heavy emphasis on the later two. What am I doing to make sure my heart is healthy? Eating better, yes! Working out? Some. (Trying not to be too hard on myself, I did ride my bike 16 miles last Saturday. Just gave myself a nice pat on the back!)

I love my friends and family. How much time am I investing in them?

I love to learn. How much time do I spend studying?

I'd love to be a better piano player. How much time do I spend at the keys?

I'd love to be a better songwriter. How much time do I give to honing that skill?

I love Jesus with all my heart, soul, mind and strength! Wow! Do I act like I love Him with ALL my heart? ALL my soul? All my mind? and ALL my strength? I hope so. Hoping doesn't make it so, though. Above all else, may I be living in light of the following:

"I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me. I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness comes through the Law, then Christ died needlessly." Galations 2: 20 -21

Did you know?

Did you know that children ask 125 probing questions a day? Adults only ask 6. We have lost our sense of awe and adventure and traded it for apathy.

A Princess Indeed!

I find myself in the oddest circumstances sometimes…like this very moment. I am sitting in a hotel room, alone. It is a very nice hotel actually, the Westin. I am in a suburb of Chicago, but that isn’t so pertinent to the story. I have just come from several days at an arts conference where more than anything I was overwhelmed by God. I felt consumed by His grace, love and mercy toward me. I was undone by His hand on my life and His nudging to keep moving with Him and toward Him. I mention those things because I believe I have brought them all to this moment.

So I sit, alone, because my husband is playing golf with an old friend. I’m happy for him and I don’t mind being here by myself. The odd circumstance, though, is that it is a very nice hotel. I’m not sure I am made for this. It felt awkward when Emil helped me with my things in the car and brought them to my room. It was unsettling when he told me he would take care of the car and leave it out front for me as a special favor. It was uncomfortable when he showed me every little detail of the room, including the amazing shower. I knew I needed to tip him, but only grabbed a couple of dollars and as soon as the door shut I felt foolish, realizing it wasn’t enough. He was so kind, treated me like royalty and I threw pennies at him.

Now I realize the things that I really wanted in the room are in the car and Emil has the key. If I were in a Motel 6, I could walk out the door and get my stuff. I know how to navigate that scene. I’m sitting here in a white fluffy robe, well, because it was in the closet and I was a little chilly. I’m not sure how to wear “the robe” well. I’m just not used to being shown favor. I haven’t much training in the way of being a princess.

Where was it I said I had been the last few days? I was in the presence of the King and now I am reminded that as a child of that King, I am a princess. He has shown me His favor over and over again. I indeed have been given the status of royalty and have been taught and am still being shown what it looks like, feels like and means to be a princess. Sometimes I feel awkward when He helps me with my “things”, when I am called to expose the stuff in my life that holds me back from coming to Him. I’m uncomfortable as I squirm in His shower of grace over my sin. I am unsettled by His Holiness, as I am so unholy without Him and I know He is showing me special undeserved favor. I am a very poor princess for I haven’t anything, not even pennies, to bring to Him in gratitude, because all I could give He already owns. Anything I could give would never be enough.

One thing I am not, as I stand in the presence of the King as He extends His scepter toward me, is foolish. I understand the value of the gift and so I kneel, I receive, and I accept His favor. I am His child and that makes me a princess indeed.

Whoa! Slow it Down!

My piano teacher told me today that I was playing like I was in a frenzy. He actually meant that I was not keeping a steady rhythm, that I would get tense and start speeding up. Frenzy was a fairly strong word for that, but I wonder if that is what I look like in general sometimes. When things in my life get tough do I have a tendency to tense up and then pick up the pace? Do I subconsciously think that if I start moving faster I can get through the issue quicker or perhaps even avoid it?

I'm convinced that those times in my life I need to do the exact opposite. I should step back, take several deep breaths, and "walk" very slowly, if not just stop and take a good look at the issue. How could I even begin to understand what is unfolding if I'm doing the 100 meter sprint right by it? What discernment I could gain if I took the time to take a hike around what's troubling me and scope it out from all sides. There's plenty of perspective to gain, but it takes shortening the stride, slowing the speed and of course being willing to yield.