Learning to love wine with my cheese...

It's the end of another year. 2006 is over and done with, and we face 2007 as if we're strapped into a roller coaster, and coming to the top of a drop - we can't look back, we can't slow down, and we're strapped in tightly whether we want to be or not.

As a writer, I like to describe things concisely and thoroughly in neat little paragraphs. These "things" that I so often attempt to define by small groupings of words include the seasons of life. Isn't it wonderful when you can look back over a semester, slap some words on the page, cross a couple out that you realize too accurately describe some emotion, rearrange a few more to make decent sentences, and then step back and look at 4 months all wrapped up in a 4x6 inch space on a stark white sheet of paper? Although I've made it sound so inhumane and emotionless, it's actually quite satisfying. My paragraph looks clean and purposed; it's evenly spaced, contains exactly what I want to remember from that season (leaves no room for upsets or mess ups), and gives me a sense of closure. I can now set that paragraph or season aside, and move forward with no overlapping of relationships, events, or personal struggles and triumphs. That paragraph is complete.

I've done this for several years now - maybe not on paper, but in my mind I enjoy creating closure. I will reflect on a semester, glean what wisdom I gained that I should take with me in life, burn the bad memories, summarize briefly, and move on. As I look back on this year, however, and start my synopsis of my life contained in 2006, I'm struggling to end my paragraph. There doesn't seem to be a neat and tidy way to close it off.

I look back, and so many of my joys are so intimately connected with sorrows, that I would have to remove the joy in order to "clean up" my description of the hard times. The people God has connected me with, and re-connected me with, cannot be summed up in a word, because my relationships with them are ever-changing, ever-growing. I can't possibly close a chapter with one person, and open another one with a whole set of new people. The one must remain a character in the story. As soon as I can accurately define my relationship with someone, it changes. My roommates became my sisters, my best friend became closer than a brother, my brother became my best friend, the girls I was leading in Bible Study became some of my greatest teachers, acquaintances became friends for life. How can I confine these to a few sentences and leave them at that? To do so would be to confine life.

I compartmentalize. Our human nature is to want things to stay the same, to stay comfortable, to be neat and tidy, all wrapped up in a little paragraph. Life is messy, though. It's wild and untame. The joys in life don't always come in separate packages than the sorrows. Sometimes the two are inexorably tied together - you can't get the joy without the sorrow, you can't get the sisters without conflict, you can't get real love without heartache. It's a mess - of hurt and pain, tears and broken hearts, side-splitting laughter and genuine smiles, sacrificing friendships and love, misspoken words, purposed encouragement, jealousy, honesty, respect.

It's beautiful, though. He's in there amidst it all. Jesus is in the wild mess of what we call life, and He's there. Not a spectator, but a player. He's there and He WANTS to be there. He doesn't want me to make a feeble attempt to wrap it all up "neat and tidy." He wants me to thrive in the mess of it all. To love and to be loved. To worship Him because of ALL of it - the joys and the sorrows, because the two cannot be separated. To embrace change - in people, in relationships, in myself.

When I was three, my Mom taught me to read, and one day, from the backseat of the car, I read a bumper sticker out loud to her. "Sh*t Happens." Well, sh*t does happen. There are things I cannot explain, things I can't see purpose in, and things I wish would change for what I think could be better. And yet, my life is beautiful. Our lives are beautiful. The mess is beautiful, because He is good. I would say that my summary to what I've learned this year would be broad, unspecific, and similar to the bumper sticker, but less cynical -

Life is wild and unpredictable. Relationships can no sooner be defined or limited than you could tame a bull. For me to separate the joy from the sorrow is like eating the cheese without the wine. The wine may be bittersweet, but it is rich. When we can learn to take life as it's given to us, be thankful for it, and thrive in it as it is, we will be rich in Love like Him.

The Tree (Job 14:7)

A tree,

planted in the desert, the bark stripped raw from

the winds

and sand.

She waits in the dry seasons for

the rain;

her roots

cling to what little solid ground lies underneath the shifting surface.

Her eyes sting from

the sand;

tears may fall but

her roots

do not give way, even when attacked by

the wind.

Her hope

comes with the scent of

rain.

And yet, the glisten in her eye is always there to guide her laughter on

the wind.

And when the drought ends, she drinks deeply of

the rain

and is restored again.

A tree

always has hope, for when it is cut down by

the wind,or exhausted by

the sand,

it will grow again, and it’s new

roots

will not fail.

They are rooted

in a Love

that does not die.

This tree

will dance forevermore.

*I wrote this for a dear friend who has inspired me to take life as the Lord brings it to me, to laugh at it, to Love in it, and to dance because of it. And above all, to always have hope, because the Lord is gracious to restore abundant life. Thank you, Lauren.

Walking in the Dark

I'm learning a lot these days. A lot about life, and what it's supposed to look like, and who I'm supposed to be. I look at myself a lot - sometimes in a good way, to discern where I'm going wrong, and how far the Lord has brought me, and sometimes in a bad way, to criticize or on the other extreme uphold too highly. I look at other people a little - sometimes in a good way, to see how each person is beautiful, and really is beautiful, and sometimes in a bad way, to compare to myself or to others. I look at God, too, but not as often it seems.

Today, I was realizing, as I was looking at Him, and thinking on Him, that the other things (myself and others) look better in light of Him. This may seem like a well-known truth, but I find it so easy to forget. Who is better than the Lord? No one, I say. When I look to the Lord, my heart is glad, and the people I see are beautiful, and not just because I'm saying that they are, but because they ARE! And I am beautiful, not just because I say that I am, but because I am!

The Lord sheds light on all things, and in that light we see truth. Truth is beautiful. Honesty is beautiful. In Him, all things are beautiful, and all things are possible, and all things are made new. When I pursue Him in today, not in tomorrow, not in where I'm going to be in 10 years, but today, right now, in the next hour, I am exactly where I'm supposed to be. I can see what He wants me to see, how He wants me to see it, and the action He wants me to take as a result.

It's like walking in the dark where all I can see is my hand in front of my face. That's all I need to see. That's all I need to know. That's where my heart should be - in today and right now.

Malachi's Song

Darkness enfolds
All around is cold
Yet even in the night
The stars still shine

You alone are God (2X)

Chorus:
Arise the sun
Your Glory shines
Awake the dead
With healing light
Burn our hearts
Refining fire
You alone are God

Clouds unfold
Clears away the fog
Yet even in the unknown
Your Majesty is shown

You alone are God(2X)

Chorus



*(This is mean't to be a song. My brother wrote the music to it. The music and the words, without each other, don't do the song justice. The inspiration behind this song was the book of Malachi. It talks about the depravity of Israel, how the Lord will sit 'as a refiner and purifier of silver,' cleansing all impurities, and then how they should not despair for 'the sun of righteousness will rise with healing on its wings.' We have such great hope in the Lord! And how true it is - we were healed when the Son rose. That is such a beautiful picture to me.)

Look at the Acorn

She looked out her window- the rain’s pouring down. Only five minutes ago the sun was shining and the birds were singing joyfully. No songs could be heard now, only the pitter-patter of the rain on the window and the occasional deafening thunderclap. The oak tree outside her window blew back and forth in the raging wind, receiving no mercy from the storm, or so it seemed. A stray acorn hit the glass pane, startling her, and then fell to the ground. It rolled along the rocks, through the mud, until it finally settled in a puddle of water, battered and scarred by the relentless wind. She watched as it bobbed up and down, seeming to never find rest. A flash of lightning shook the window-pane, illuminating the broad oak tree’s silhouette against the sky. Its strength was allowing it to weather the storm and remain firmly planted. To think, it was once a helpless acorn. The sky began to clear, and she looked down once again at the acorn, now resting in a patch of grass and protected from the running water. It was safe. Through all of its struggles and failed attempts of success, it never once doubted it would make it through. And though its growth will take time and will be hindered by various circumstances, that acorn will most assuredly become an oak tree, perfect in strength and form, and capable of withstanding all types of storms.

Often we ask God what His reasons and motives are in our lives. Why am I going through this? Why do I feel this way? Or, why does this hurt so much? His answer to our questions is always, “Trust in me. Look at the acorn, and trust in me.”

My Heart's Song

There are bars around my heart
Hindering me from taking part
In the life He’s given me,
In the joy that used to set me free.

It is cold in this cell.
The water in my well
Has all dried up,
And I have misplaced my overflowing cup.

The silence is deafening
But my fears are roaring
In my ears and tormenting my mind,
So I watch helplessly as the years pass by

And I do nothing –
Too scared to try anything,
So I huddle behind a locked door,
Afraid to venture out or ask for more.

A gentle wind awakes my soul;
A light floods my dirty, little hole.
I have a visitor in my confining room;
A friend has joined me in my tomb.

But instead of wallowing in the filth,
He tenderly observes my state; His eyes hold a wealth
Of love, compelling me to rise from the dirt.
He draws me close and soothes my hurt.

He breaks the bars
And heals all of my scars.
He lights a fire to warm my soul
And in His presence, passion replaces the cold.

My excited heart beats so fast!
He gave me a peace that He promised will last.
He has righted all of my wrong.
He is my life, my first love, my heart’s only song.

The Girl

I am a girl.
A small word on the page
Of a book that tells a story
That is too great for words.

My character is swallowed up
By the Kings and Queens,
By the storms and battles,
And by all the radiant imagery.

Girl – a four letter word
That hardly describes
Yet so easily defines
And confines to the ink on the page.

My identity, however, is elusive –
Limited to adjectives,
Words from voices
That judge, compare, and rate.

It soon becomes clear
That I am not satisfied.
My world is quick to hate,
My character longs for love.

The people in this tale
Live in this hateful world
And see me for what I am –
Just a girl.

Why me on these pages?
I have become a joke,
Forgotten in the previous chapter,
Yet still there at the beginning of the next.

My story continues
And as a girl, I feel deeply –
Joy, sadness, hope, disappointment.
But mostly love.

My longings are not fulfilled
In my present setting.
The world’s quota of love
Cannot feed my soul.

Yet when all seems hopeless –
When my heart is starved,
Hungry with desperation –
A hero arrives on the scene.

Blinded by the fake luster
Of the picture before me
I pass him over with one glance,
Sure that his offer would fade like the rest.

But his eyes are unswerving.
Realizing the depths of my hunger
He does not look away
As He searches my hidden heart.

I turn away at the intensity of His stare
And He follows.
Persistently He pursues me
To discover the deepest needs of my soul.

I meet His gaze and I see
Something bold in His eyes –
Wells of shameless passion
Directed toward me.

He beckons to me
As I reach for His yearning arms.
He covers me with His love
And sees me for who I am.

My sins do not deny me His love.
I am worthy of pursuit
And I long for pure love.
I am a girl.

Isaiah 30:21

Everything before me is unknown.
But I can always look back,
Remain in the past,
See how much I’ve grown.

But, to what avail?
When I look behind me
I can never see
The end of my winding trail.

Where does it all lead?
This narrow path is so tough;
The soles of my feet are rough.
Why does my heart still bleed?

Who is with me on my road,
This road that ends with the sun?
I want to run,
But for the heaviness of my load.

But wait, a whisper on the wind;
A lightness felt in my soul.
He can make me whole,
Even though I’ve sinned.

So I turn to face the Son.
A voice behind me is ever present,
Saying, “This is the Way; walk in it.”
My journey has begun.