But, it's fun!

So, there was an email that arrived in the in-boxes of Facebook women all over the world, inviting them to post the color of their bras in their Facebook statuses in a lighthearted effort to raise awareness of breast cancer and the need for regular mammograms. Part of the fun was that the men in our lives wouldn't know what the one word color status updates meant, which could lead to a bit of confusion, questions, and just simple silliness. I noticed the colors in the inboxes of my friends, and once some kind soul clued me in, I happily entered into the fun.

Then came the voices of reason. I love voices of reason. The voices of reason in my life make sure that I make it to doctor's appointments, pay my bills, and deal judiciously with the important things of life. The voices of reason wanted to know what good it would do to update my status with my bra color. They suggested that donating financially to cancer research might be more helpful. They discussed issues of privacy and decorum, and wondered at the wisdom of going along with the crowd. There was talk of conformity, usefulness and something about lemmings and cliffs.

I appreciate voices of reason, and I do see their points. So I nod thoughtfully and feel a little silly for falling into the bra color thing so easily. But I have to admit...I'd do it again. Because it was fun. I like to think that I am as socially conscious as the next person, and it is my greatest wish that as I live my life I would be able to make a positive impact on the world around me. My social consciousness is rooted in my faith, and my love of people. I enjoy people. I have known people who have suffered and died from cancer, and have had a few scares myself (during which I discovered the loveliness of the word "benign"). And I still think the bra thing is funny. I like funny. The voices of reason in my life remind me that some things are important and needful and serious. But not everything.

Last summer, my daughter came home from a school trip to N.Y city wearing large, black-framed, Buddy Holly glasses. She has 20/20 vision. She found the glasses at a kiosk in N.Y.C and couldn't resist. She has wanted to wear funky glasses since she was little and pitched a fit at the optometrist's office because I was getting new glasses and it was the height of injustice that she couldn't have a pair. She wore them to school, to parties, to the grocery store. So very silly. I was thrilled. Her close friend has a red pair, and together they are an absolute picture of adorableness. Children don't have to learn to enjoy the funny and silly and pointless aspects of life. It is sad that as they grow up and begin to discover that life carries pain as well as joy, they are tempted to give up their love of the ridiculous.

I am glad that when my daughter has to look out onto a world that sometimes hurts and overwhelms her, she'll be doing it from behind a pair of completely useless and foolish Buddy Holly glasses. And her momma will be doing it wearing a...wait..let me check...pink bra.

A friend loves at all times...

"A friend loves at all times and a brother is born for adversity." Proverbs 17:17

Tomorrow is my best friend's birthday. She's going to be 50. She won't mind my posting her age. That's one of the reasons I love her. She's been my friend for over 20 years, which is hard to believe because I know for a fact that one of the things that we share is an over-whelming sense of being children in a world that is way too big for us, and a undeniable need and desire for our Heavenly Father. We're actually kind of funny, sitting together drinking coffee, talking about how much we need our Father, how much we need to learn, how grateful we are for God's care for us and how dependent and needy we are. Then, when we get up off the couch, we make those "ooouff" noises that our parents used to make when they got up off the couch. And it takes a few steps before we're completely upright. But, children, we remain.

There are many things I love about my best friend. She's brave, although she would deny it. She learned to ride a horse this year. And when she fell off, she got back on. With her husband, she has raised 5 children into adulthood. Watching her parent the kids has always left me in awe. She is a passionate, dedicated, giving, hopeful, wise and faith-full wife and mother. She is a prayer warrior for her family, and to my ever-lasting gratitude, for her friends.

I don't know that I have always been an easy friend. I have always loved her, but my life has been a veritable rollercoaster of emotions and craziness and she has been dedicated to the ride. She has been my truth-teller, my cheer-leader, a voice of reason, wisdom and common sense, which I am sometimes woefully lacking in. She has rejoiced with me when I have rejoiced, and has mourned with me when I have mourned. When I growl, she reminds me to growl at circumstances, and not people. When I sing she ignores the missed notes and sings loudly so I can follow her. No matter how broken or wounded I am, she points me towards God and encourages me to trust in Him alone. And when I do, and He turns my mourning into gladness, she dances with me.

The awesome thing is that she does all of these things even though she has struggles of her own. I feel as if I have received so much more out of this relationship than she has, and I think she feels the same. We both look at each other and go, "Wow." I pray that we will be looking at each other and going "Wow," for many years to come. Actually, I know we will, and our relationship is as eternal as we are, in God's kingdom. Which is why I am pretty sure she won't mind my posting that she's going to be 50. What's 50 in view of forever?

Happy birthday, Sandy. May this coming year be an amazing one, full of joy, peace, love and fun, fun, fun! I love you, and thank God for you. Like, seriously.

{{{{{huggles}}}}}

Unity in practice as well as purpose

As Christians, we can have the tendency to compartmentalize our faith-lives, placing worship, Bible study, prayer, loving God and even loving others into slots that we attend to separately. I have never gotten a sense, from reading the gospels, that Jesus did this. He just seemed to live His life and His faith as one fluid movement. Certainly, he took time apart to pray and spend time with God, but it seems to me that these were a continuation of His constant connection to God, not a beginning of something that He had stopped. In other words, He moved apart from the crowds to continue His on-going communion with God in a more focused, private way. This is much in the same way as a married couple will slip away from the children to discuss an issue privately.

It is important that we be aware of this , because ultimately our Christianity is who we are, not what we do. A Christian is one who follows Jesus, but following Jesus is not simply a series of actions. It involves a complete transformation of our hearts and minds, creating Christ-followers where once there were none. When I became a Christian, I knew that I needed much more than a set of rules to govern my behavior. Of course, I understood that if I could behave differently, my life would be better. But I was absolutely incapable of behaving differently on a sustained basis. I knew this about myself. I needed a spiritual transformation, a new heart, a new mind, not a do-over but something new that had never been before. This newness was rooted in love, the love of God for me, and my love for Him. I found that I was not only willing but also able to do things for the love of Jesus that I would never have done otherwise. I was able to see truths that had always escaped me, truths about God, the world both temporal and eternal, and the truth about myself and who I was.

When we put worship and prayer in little slots, with times and places appointed, and never take them out, we run the risk of making loving God a task rather than a passion. Worship is loving God and acknowledging Him as Lord. It is to be a constant in the Christian life. God has been graciously clear on the ways that He experiences our worship, and not all of them happen within a temple or church building, or at an altar. When we listen patiently to a difficult child because we know it pleases God, when we offer to meet the physical needs of another because we trust in God's care for us, when we submit to earthly authority because we believe that in doing so we are submitting to God, when we fully enjoy the wonder of God's creation in a family pet or a natural wonder because we know that God's creative and powerful nature is revealed in the work of His hands...we worship God through the passion of a daily relationship with Him.

Of course, there are times when we need to come apart to be alone with God. In our media-soaked, hyper-busy world, we get less and less time to spend alone in our own heads. Some of us don't even have room for our own thoughts up there, and instead fill our minds with sound-bites from Twitter and Facebook. We adopt these thoughts without even stopping to see if we actually believe them, let alone if they are true in the Light of God's Word. We need to make sure that we don't allow our minds to become so cluttered because, after all, we spent our time with God earlier in the day. Meeting with God should not be a returning to a place that we left yesterday morning after our devotions. It should be a continuation of a journey that we never want to leave again. Devotion time is God taking our hand and pulling us off to a side room to be alone with us, after which we walk back into the world with Him enriched, strengthened, and maybe occasionally grinning shyly at Him in memory of the sweet words, wondrous truths and gentle directions He shared with us.

Happy New Year!

So it's a new year, a new decade, 2010. To be honest, as far as resolutions go, if I manage to be able to write 2010 on my checks and notes to the school, I'll be doing well. I could make a resolution not to make anymore stupid mistakes with my meds, but mistakes are pretty resolute-proof. At least for me they are.

So, most likely I will continue to do things like forgetting to take one of my heart meds (yes, I do use one of those daily pill thingies...sad, huh?) and end up having angina during the holidays. I could make a resolution to write more, but resolutions to write tend to freeze my brain, and contrary to a Twitter post I just re-tweeted, eating ice cream does nothing for writer's block.

I could make a resolution to love God more, but that's like making decision to breathe. I love God, and my love for Him is a growing thing. Of course there are things I can do to build and encourage my love for Him, just like married people have date nights and time alone together to build on their relationships. Resolving to doing these things is essentially resolving to continue being me, because my life is wrapped up and engulfed in my Lord, and this awesome walk with Him.

Actually, making a resolution to keep on being me is not a bad idea. Sometimes I feel trapped in a world that wants not only to design a mold for me, but also to shove me into it no matter how badly it fits. Once again my salvation comes from a God that designed and built my original mold, and has spent my entire life encouraging me to live in it freely.


I don't know, I think I am rambling...but that's what's going through my mind right now. Rambling, silly, confused stuff.

Huh. This may be one resolution I can actually keep.

The Father's full giving has only begun...

There's an old hymn that says, "When we've reached the end of our hoarded resources, our Father's full giving has only begun." It is December 23, two days before Christmas, and I have officially reached the end of my hoarded, and might I add meager to start off with, resources. A lost CD containing photos for a particular gift, several gifts still to be bought or made, much-needed finances lost somewhere between a company's computer system and our bank account, 4 loads of laundry waiting to be folded on my bed, and a body that seems determined to make every movement achingly painful, and I'm done. Empty. Curled up on the couch, hugging a blankie, weeping and mumbling something about hybernating and rum and the Christmas Stollen with extra icing sugar, empty.

There is something about unrelenting physical pain that can be destructive to our spirits. Most people have experienced this. We all get fatigued at some point, and when we do, one of the results is that our bodies start to hurt, and every movement becomes a chore. We just want to lie down, to rest. Our bodies are quite skilled at loudly announcing what our minds often refuse to acknowledge - that we need to stop and rest. If we ignore these signals, the distress becomes emotional, and even spiritual. Over the past several months I have been experiencing increasingly unrelenting all-over muscle pain. Some of the pain that I have has been around for longer, even up to two years. For an already chronically ill person, I am woefully negligent when it comes to doctor visits. I have been writing my pain off as morning stiffness, a normal part of aging (I know, I am only 43, but denial is a powerful force), just something that if left alone, would go away. It hasn't gone away. So I have begrudgingly made an appointment to see the doctor in January and am now trying to deal with the pain until my doctor places a miracle cure into my hand and all is well. One can hope, right?

I feel like I have a combination of flu-like body aches, a serious gym workout burn, and restless leg syndrome, all at once. Moving hurts, and I can't stop moving because being still hurts, too. Bottom line, I have reached the end. No more resources. I am tired and emotionally fragile because every step hurts. Just looking for the wayward CD of photos left me in tears on the couch.


At the place where the obstacles outweigh the possibilities, things tend to get rough. Hoarded resources. The good news for us, and the joyful message of Christmas, is that when we reach the end our ourselves, our resources, our abilities, strengths, possibilities, goodness, God has only just begun the giving. In fact, it is difficult if not impossible for God to pour his gifts into our lives when we are still huddled protectively over our own resources.

The interesting thing is that God seems to have different priorities than we do, which can lead to a mistaken over-looking of God's giving. Frankly, God is not concerned with our stellar reputations in the annual Christmas church potluck competition. Impressing our relatives with expensive gifts is not a huge priority for Him. His full giving may not be in the "finding the latest cool toy to be oohed and ahhed over for 5 seconds before being thrown on the pile in the corner" department. In fact, God's full giving may include teaching a child to serve others, including mom, by helping to prep the house and wrap presents (Thanks, Gracie!!). It may include a gift of grace for a present not yet prepared in time for the big day (maybe spring clean-up will unearth the CD?). It may mean a family that spends more time visiting with each other over a simple meal rather than swapping recipes and praise for extravagant dishes and expensive treats. The immutable truth is that God's gifts are His choice for us, and are always of the highest quality, always in keeping with His holy nature, and always rooted in His love for us.

Last night I had a dream about a classmate from high school who is now a fellow Christian. I think I am going to send him a quick message to let him know that I am glad to be his sister in Christ. I also just got a call from my husband to let me know that the long-lost finances have appeared, and that I should rest until he comes home. I am going to have a bath and start folding laundry and have a nap and trust that whatever God has for me is infinitely better than anything I could have provided for myself. As it has always been, so it shall continue to be.

After all, isn't that what Christmas is all about?

Merry Christmas to all my dear friends and family. When it comes to God's gifts, you guys are on the top of the list!

Recently, I was asked to answer a on-line study question for the Bible study group, Ladies Prayer Share, and since I already know I'm not going to be able to do this in a few lines, I thought it would also make a good blog entry. The question is a wonderful one, thought provoking and one that I know many people ask. I have often wondered about it. It is this: Does God speak to you? If He does, can you share with us how He speaks to you? So many people yearn to hear God, few of us know HOW to listen to Him.

Firstly, I absolutely believe that God talks to me. I am always cautious, though, when I am making a claim that God has told me a certain thing. I believe one of the ways that believers take the Lord's name in vain is when we claim that God told us things that may not have come from Him. It is wrong to use God's name to back up thoughts and decisions that may be our own. Using the authority of God to strengthen our positions or validate our own ideas is a dangerous thing, and I do not think God takes this lightly. It is confusing to others, and it seriously cheapens our witness.

But yes, I do believe that God speaks to me. Have I ever heard an audible voice? No. Have I heard the voice of God in my head. Yes. Sometimes hearing God is a simple knowing or feeling that is coming to me from Him. Many times when I am discouraged or hurting, I have felt an outpouring of His love for me. I don't hear the words I love you, or I am here, but His love and Presence are so tangible that words are not neccesary.

There have been times when I have heard His voice in my head, though. One time, years ago I was deep in the midst of emotional and spiritual healing and was struggling to function within the cesspool of hurt and sorrow that I was slowly moving out of. I was getting ready to go to a Ladies Meeting that I had organized (not a strength in the best of times). I was pressed for time, overwhelmed, fearful and unsure of myself, and I found myself wandering around my bedroom crying and trying to find the clothes I needed. As I was rummaging through a laundry basket, I fell apart and let myself go, literally tumbling into the basket, sobbing. As I lay halfway in the basket, I heard a very emphatic voice inside my head, asking me, "What are you doing?!" It was almost sharp, and caught me so off-guard that I froze, caught my breath and stopped crying. The voice continued, "When you are weak, I am strong. I will be your strength. Get up." And I did.

There was no doubt in my mind at the time, nor is there now, that it was God speaking to me. It matched all of the criteria that I tend to use to judge if something is from God or not. Firstly, it was truth. Always, the first criteria to discern if something is from God is it's verity. In fact, what God had said to me about being strong in my weakness was scripture, and I knew it to be true. God's voice always sounds like God. He was firm, but not harsh. He was being parental, sounding like a father pulling an out-of-control child back into control. He was doing it so that I would be able to serve Him later that night. He was offering Himself as my help in a time of trouble. There was no condemnation, no shame, no "stop being such a baby", but only compassion and strength and patience. The words made me feel calmer immediately. I was empowered, with His power.

I think knowing when God is speaking involves the intentional seeking of a relationship with Him. Sometimes His voice comes in the form of a thought, or a dream, or words spoken from someone else's mouth, or Scripture read that strikes us as just what we needed to hear. But it always sounds like Him. If someone showed up at my daughter's school and told her that I had sent them with a message, and then presented a message to her that instructed her to do something that she knew I wouldn't want her to do, or was written in harsh, unkind, ugly words, I'm fairly sure that Gracie would be able to say, "That doesn't sound like my mom..."

I think the purpose of the words is significant, too. What is the intent? When Gracie was small, she went on daytrip with her grandparents. As I watched them pull out of the driveway with her in the backseat, I heard a voice in my head say, "You will never see Grace again." I was struck with fear and anxiety. Immediately, in prayer, I gave control of her safety over to God. Then I prayed that God would show me if the words were from Him or from the evil one, who is the father of lies. I immediately began to think about the intended result of the words. Perfect love drives out fear. God is perfect love and He relieves fear, not inducing it, unless it is respectful fear of facing Him after rebelling against Him. If it was a warning from God in order to protect Grace, it would have been given before she left, when I could have done something to protect her. But it came as she moved out of my range of protection. There was nothing I could do. It felt taunting, mean-spirited. It in no way felt like God. So I dismissed it as a lie from Satan, told him that she was in God's hands, and if he wanted to mess with her, he'd have to deal with God, and intentionally refused to think about it anymore. Of course she came home safely.

Also, because I view Scripture as the literal word of God, I hear God speak to me through scripture. Many verses apply to us at all times and can be considered His absolute word to us. One of my favorites is Psalm 18:19b "He rescued me because He delighted in me". Having unmistakenably been rescued by God, this verse tells me the glorious and lovely reason why...He delights in me. How sweet is that?! This entire Psalm is one that I have often read and prayed through, and as I speak the words of David to God, they become my own. The God that David trusted is still the same God I run to for help, and so I can be confident that God delights in me as well.

This is such an awesome topic, and I am thrilled to have the opportunity to spend some time this morning to think about the wonder of a God who actually communicates such wonderful things to us! Learning to listen can be as simple as sitting quietly in His Presence, believing by faith that He is there, and enjoying Him, or reading the Bible and hearing every word as from the mouth of God. It's simple, but not easy in a world of voices vying for our attention.

Yeah... I knew I couldn't do it in just a few lines...heh heh...

In Christ, Kelly

Of Mice & Men

Yesterday, I was privileged to have my first tutoring lesson with a young friend of mine, Alex, who at 18 is working towards finishing high school after dropping out a few years ago. I had offered to help him with his English, as he felt this would be one of his weakest subjects. His first assignment was to read John Steinbeck's "Of Mice & Men", and to write a paper on it's dominant themes of loneliness and isolation.

I have to say it was beyond exciting to be able to discuss this book with him. Alex does not see himself as a student, and does not read for pleasure. English Lit. is simply a hurdle on his road to a high school diploma. And yet, as we discussed the book, he began to open up and really think about the characters and the experiences they lived through. Alex understands loneliness as many of us can not. As we began to explore which characters lived lonely lives, and what devices Steinbeck uses to highlight their loneliness, Alex began to come alive. It was as if a light came on in his head and heart. Many of the terms meant little to him - I substituted "aloneness" for loneliness, and that seemed to help him identify the isolation of the characters. It was encouraging for him to see that he already understood the themes of the book, that the impact it had on him was important, that he could tell instinctively that a certain character was lonely or isolated. I think he is beginning to understand that his teacher is simply inviting him to be more thoughtful about what he understands concerning the theme and characters in the story. He is learning how to articulate how he knows what he knows, verbally with me and then in written form. None of this comes easy to him, but it was a wonderful encouragement for him to discover that he already had the essential knowledge and needed to learn how to translate that into something that someone else can share with him.

So often, the advancement of education is seens as a purely economical endeavor. Study after study suggests that more education equals a greater likelyhood of financial stability. Alex understands this, and his sole purpose for finishing his high school is getting a job. I can't help but think, however, that there is more to education than securing our financial futures.

Alex is being invited to enter into the worlds and stories of other people, to search and examine an existence outside of his own. He felt shaken by the conclusion fo the book, and although this was not part of the course work, we had a good discussion on the morality of the behaviour of the key characters. Is it okay to do wrong things with good intentions? If it is, and I give myself that freedom, will I give equal freedom to others, especially those who's decisions may affect me? Does honoring the intentions of an action justify the action itself? The questions became even more significant when directed towards the central themes - why are the characters lonely? Have any of them made choices that led to their own isolation? Are there choices they could have made to change their situations? Who has choices available to them, and who doesn't? Am I ever lonely, and if I am, is it ever by my own choice? Is it possible to feel helpless to change a situation when in reality change is within our grasp?

I want Alex to catch the "reading bug". I admit this shamelessly. I want to see him asking himself these questions, whether or not I agree with the answers he comes to. And I believe that the benefits to him extend far beyond economics. Books offer him the possibility of meeting a myriad of characters, people he may never meet on his own. Books will allow him to enter more deeply into people's hearts, motives, passions and thought processes. Things are much less simple when we take an extra step into someone's life and begin to understand that there is much we don't understand. The ending of "Of Mice & Men", if presented in a news headline, could easily inspire a quick and expedient judgment - judgment that is not so easy to come by when one has entered into the situation and the heart and mind of the people involved.

One of the greatest pleasures in life is being a part of another person's experiences in a positive way. I am feeling very grateful today. I do believe this calls for a celebration! Time to crack out one of my latest thrift store finds - "The Tin Drum" by Gunter Grass!