walking towards spring

Today was an incredible day.  Good friends, good stories, good food - beautiful weather (warm and sunny!) - a 15-mile trek thru a nature preserve on my bike, and a 2-mile walk.  I am rested for the first time in I'm not really sure how long.  And it feels amazing.  I can tell I am still not yet where I need/want to be - but a day off was a great step in the right direction.

It was a long, hard winter.  Juggling two jobs that hit busy seasons at the same time was no easy task, but the real truth is that in addition to that, there's just been a lot of "hard stuff".  Things I can't really talk about.  Things I can't do anything about.  Things that weren't my fault, but affected me deeply....

It's been a long, hard season, and I feel battered and bruised - and exhausted to the core.

But I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago, who was sharing a little  about the metaphorical winter season she's been in - watching objectively as God has blessed her family amazingly, yet feeling very disconnected, and wanting to feel the joy she thought she should - and she said something incredibly profound.  It was something to the effect of: "I was looking out my window the other day, and there's this field that in the summer, you can't really see much of except for the trees, but right now, you can see everything.  And it occurred to me that this is what God is doing, even if I don't understand it right now.  We need these winter seasons in order to see anything clearly.  He's as much at work now as He is in any other season, and what He's doing will bear fruit later on."

Her words gave me so much peace and consolation, knowing that it's true: in the midst of all the sorrow and heartache of the past few months, God has been at work - and I don't know what He's doing, but I know that He's good and that He knows what He's doing.  I don't have to figure it all out.  I just have to stand still in the middle of this field that is my life and look around to see what's here, and where new life might spring into being any moment.

It can be hard to imagine in the winter of our souls that spring will ever come.  But I drove through vibrant green tunnels of trees over the roads near my house today, and realized that life has come back to the world around me suddenly, and enthusiastically, and that the same thing will happen to my soul, maybe when I least expect it.  And being at rest today, caring for my soul by feeding it with things that make me whole and happy,  I saw glimpses of the summer to come.  And it is going to be glorious.

So I will keep on walking towards spring, choosing to hope even when I feel completely hopeless - because I'm not.  My hope rests in the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth, who designed all seasons, and is no stranger to the one I'm in.

And I will continue to rejoice in every single glorious, sunny day that comes my way.  :)

how far...

Cathy has an excellent post up this week. I am so glad I know this lovely lady; she has a co-worker who is good friends with one of my good friends, and we met at a conference this summer. I lurk at her site fairly frequently, and am often inspired by her creativity and deeply thoughtful insights.

The post is about grief, and allowing ourselves time and space to grieve properly. It reminded me of saying Kaddish. It's hard to believe that wasn't even a year ago...

It's been quite a year.

I had occasion last week to look back on my first post of the year. Instead of making resolutions I knew I would break, I chose three things I wanted to see God do in my life over the course of this year - essentially: to refine my character, to help me recognize His voice more clearly, and to teach me to trust Him.

He's most definitely said "yes"... and there's still a whole month of the year left. :)

I am oddly reminded of something a good friend of mine said once (wow, also this year - were there like five years in the space of one this year?!): "It's like, I think, "wow, life hurts. Better get a helmet." and God responds by putting His hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes and saying, "No, no helmet. Trust Me." And then hits me in the head with a bat..."

Lol. Yep, it's been quite a year. But it's been so, so good. In a lot of ways, I've done a lot of mourning this year... but I am also learning to dance. And that is a good thing. Sooner or later I really will shed all this sackcloth. But I think I'm okay with still wearing it. At least for awhile. Because there's a promise that those who mourn may hope in:

Isaiah 61:1-4

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor, and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor. They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations.

Thank You, Jesus, for what You've done and are doing in me this year. I know that though You've purpose in all of it for me, it is also part of a bigger story, and that my story will show forth Your glory in ways I can hardly imagine from my limited perspective here. Thank You for the privilege of becoming a Repairer of Broken Walls. I am honored to have a role to play in Your Kingdom.

the end of the masquerade

One of my favorite movies - possible the favorite movie - is Ever After. If you have not seen it, I would highly recommend it. A "real life" Cinderella story, complete with masked ball... does it get better than that? Oh, yes, it does. There are gypsies and a swordfight. (And those of you who love this movie as much as I do are reliving the best scene right now.) The rest of you need to go rent it. Yes, it's a chick flick. And their French is terrible. But it's a good story. And did I mention there's a swordfight? (Cinderella wins.)

So there's a scene towards the end of the movie where Cinderella goes to the Masque - the ball the King is throwing to celebrate the engagement of his son to ... no one knows whom. The prince and Cinderella have fallen in love, but she can't marry him under false pretenses, so Cinderella goes to tell him the truth about who she is - and the conversation goes horribly wrong. He isn't listening to her, and she's betrayed by her family in front of the entire court before she has the opportunity to explain the real masquerade that their relationship has been up to this point. He is understandably upset, and allows his pride to overshadow his love for the girl... they do patch it up and live happily ever after eventually, but it takes them awhile to get there, and it's pretty awful in betweentimes...

I've been thinking about that whole masquerade thing all week. A friend of mine, when I told him about that dream I had last week, basically said, "Hap, don't read more into it than is there, but look at the message - you're afraid of the consequences of being seen for who you really are. Your whole life you've played so many roles based on the expectations (or perceived expectations) that have been placed upon you. Over the past year, you've done a lot to step out of that masquerade and to just be yourself - but since you've been burned in the past for it, of course you're starting to fear that it will happen again." (He said it all a lot better than that, and I am kicking myself for not writing it down earlier.) He had a point. And, I suspect, a direct line to heaven on that one. There's a lot of truth to that, and I run up against it in the oddest places sometimes.

Tomorrow my friend Stephie is preaching on fasting, and she's interviewing me and another friend of ours about our experiences fasting. I'm glad she asked because it is a discipline that I really love (I know that sounds funny, considering prior things I've written about that, but God has so changed my heart about it), and the opportunity to make the discipline of fasting personal to someone (as in, "Oh, well, this person I know has managed to fast, and this is how it went, so maybe I can too...") is exciting - but there's also this weird zone attached to it that I am really wrestling with...

The two passages I come back to over and over again on fasting are Isaiah 58 and Matthew 6: 16-18. I've written a couple of times about Isaiah 58 and how significant that passage has been to me. But I'm suddenly finding that actually standing up in front of people and talking about it is really hard! Fasting is such a personal and private thing, and the things for which I have been fasting and praying this year are so intensely personal - and I'm just not sure how to talk about it and still be vague enough to guard my privacy yet truthful enough to communicate that there are actual situations in which this discipline has proven effective - how to talk about how sweet it is to throw yourself in the gap for someone you love who needs God to intervene on their behalf and to let your hunger drive you to a deeper hunger for the Lord and for His kingdom to come... without actually explaining the situations themselves. How to talk about Isaiah 58 when God continues to use it to change everything... And I'm being vague....

It is simply that in learning to say Kaddish this year, I have discovered that part of God's purpose in calling to me to fast the way I do is to "loose the chains of injustice" over my life... and that "not turning away from my own flesh and blood" (Isaiah 58:7) isn't just about the past but about the future too - and that "the glory of the Lord" being "my rear guard" means that God's got my back and that He can redeem my past to help others become free - but that in order to do that, He needs me to tell the truth - the whole truth - about me. My story. Everything. Probably not all at once...lol. But bit by bit. And while blogging has done so much over the past two years to help me start doing that... the call is to people I can see as well as those of you who are kind enough to read these ramblings...

So I guess it's time to break character...? Tomorrow will be interesting anyway. (insert wry grin here) I wonder what I'll actually say...

...and am hoping for a happy ending. Pun so absolutely intended.

hymnsings and requiems

It was a great weekend.

Sorry for the longer silences of late and to come - between song-writing, spring weather, 3 months worth of homework crammed into 2 weeks (I have 2 papers and an exam to accomplish yet this week!), and the internal rumblings accompanying the next of the shifts that are always signified by these silences... anyway. I'll be back soon, I promise. (Maybe with an explanation!) Hoping for time for one good post on Friday for sure - but the rest of the week I'll probably be pretty much unaccounted for.

But it really was a great weekend. I took a road trip with Jesus to visit some friends, and it was so good... I got to go hear a concert last night that was really well done - Beethoven's Triple Concerto and Mozart's Requiem. Beautiful. Moving. As always, the sadness of the requiem got me thinking and tearing up about other things... somewhat appropriate, being funeral music, that I was able to just sit and mourn a loss or two in the darkness of an auditorium, but then I got turned heavenward by the more joyful ending of the piece, the company of one of my best friends, and God's Spirit just coming to comfort me.

And then I got to go to a church this morning with actual pews and stained glass windows (if you have one that you go to, just stop the next time you walk in and look around and appreciate its beauty for me, would you?!). They had a hymnsing before church - anyone could pick what hymn they wanted, and they did 2 verses. It was so cool... And then I got to sing more hymns, and participate in a liturgical service. I got to confess my sins and be reminded that I'm absolved of them. I got benedicted. :) And I got to hear one of my other best friends in the world preach for the first time in years - and he was always quite good, but he's even better now. And God really spoke to my heart through his sermon, so that was pretty sweet too.

The rest of the day was incredibly restful. Good chat with best friend in current hometown. "Spontaneous" (translation: incredibly strong hunch that turned out to be God's direction) trip to the bookstore for an excellent book. Walk in the forest preserve. Park bench with the new book. Vision meeting at church that was packed out (this was incredible) and meeting up with old friends I haven't seen in months. All in all, a good day, and a good weekend.

And definitely time to go sleep and gear up for the week. Blessings to you all, and I'll "see" you soon.

taking a breather

I won't post the cartoon here (largely because I'm entirely too lazy right now to do it) but there is some excellent discussion on ASBO Jesus this week on post 374. No offense to Jon, but sometimes the conversations that get going as a result of his cartoons are even better than the original cartoon! This is definitely one of those, in my estimation anyway.

There are so many things I could pull out of that conversation and talk about - but one comment in particular struck me: Sas said, when Jesus couldn’t cope, he went off and had a rest, came back to it…

I'm not coping well. There's nothing awful, I'm just really stressed and overtired. Still learning to say Kaddish, but it's not the focus; there's no time to focus on much of anything. So since I don't have time to do it - I'm taking a breather. It's been on the calendar for a couple of months now anyway, but the timing's worked out well. Tomorrow morning it's just me and Jesus for about 4 hours, and I'm so looking forward to it. No agenda - well, I don't have one anyway. I often find He has one. :) Can hardly wait. And on that note - I'm going to bed. At nine o'clock on a Friday night. Because I can.

G'nite.

mourning and dancing

I'm back to Mudhouse Sabbath again, for about the zillionth time this year. I think this may be one of the most influential books I've ever read. Oh, wait! It's January. So this is only the first time I'll have gone on about it this year. Excellent. Well, then. Without further ado... :)

For those of you who aren't familiar with the book, briefly: it contrasts practices/concepts common to Judaism and Christianity, and is Lauren Winner's commentary on some of the ways in which Judaism might helpfully inform Christianity. Her chapter on hospitality is why I now own the kitchen table at which I am currently sitting. And her chapter on mourning has given words to something my heart has been trying to understand for awhile now.

It's been at the fringes of my consciousness for about 5 days. "Go read that chapter, Hap. Go read it." "I will. Later." "Go read the chapter, Hap." The book made it into my bag on Sunday as I left the house. Didn't read it. Brought it back home. Kicked it around my room for a couple of days. Couldn't fall asleep right away last night. Finally got around to opening the book up to chapter three: avelut: mourning. And something finally clicked.

What Winner says of churches is that what we "...often do less well is grieve. We lack a ritual for the long and tiring process that is sorrow and loss. . . . While you the mourner are still bawling your eyes out and slamming fists into the wall, everyone else, understandably, forgets and goes back to their normal lives and. . .you are left alone." And then (this is the best part), she says: "Mourning, maybe, is never easy, but it is better done inside a communal grammar of bereavement."*

"A communal grammar of bereavement." Grammar - the "how-to"s of language. Communal "how-to"s. Learning the "how-to"s of loss... in community. "Please...help me mourn."

There's a prayer called the Kaddish that Jewish mourners are required to say twice a day, every day, for a year after someone dies. Then, on the last day of that year's time, you light a candle and say Kaddish one final time, and then you do something to commemorate the person you were mourning - and then you "move on." And here's the thing. You aren't allowed to say it by yourself. You are required to have a minimum of ten people there with you. And you can't say it at home, nor are you allowed to crawl into a hole and stay there, no matter how badly you want to. No. You have to go to synagogue. With all those people. Twice a day. Every day. For a year. And say Kaddish.

This is Kaddish (the bit that your friends say with you is in italics):

May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified (Amen.)
in the world that He created as He willed.
May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days,
and in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel,
swiftly and soon. Now say:
(Amen. May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.)
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One.
Blessed is He,
beyond any blessing and song,
praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. Now say:
Amen
May there be abundant peace from Heaven
and life upon us and upon all Israel. Now say:
Amen
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace,
upon us and upon all Israel. Now say:
Amen

There isn't a thing about mourning in there at all, is there?

I love that. Because even while you feel all the pain of loss, God's Name is still worthy to be praised. And over time the truth of these words will soak into your soul and you will come to a place of praise again... a place where you remember who God is and who you are in Him. You start to remember again that you are not the center of the universe. That this is God's story, not yours. And that He can write your life any way He wants to.

There are many, many things in life that we, over time, will mourn. Mourning is not always about losing someone to death. Sometimes it is about the death of a friendship, or a dream. Sometimes it is about dashed hope, or disillusionment. Sometimes it's about relational tension that didn't need to be there, but you were both too stupid to see clearly enough past the end of your own noses/egos to really see the situation as it actually was and not as you merely thought it was. Sometimes it's about the past and things that happened - or didn't happen. There are so many things to be mourned... that we will mourn. But praise be to God, we will not always mourn:

Revelation 21:3-4 - And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (NIV)

or Psalm 30:11-12 - "You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness, to the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent. O LORD my God, I will give thanks to You forever." (NKJV)

I can't tell you what it is I'm mourning exactly. I'm not sure I even understand all of it. Innocence lost, maybe. A lot of things. Stuff. It's been a tough couple of weeks, emotionally. Lots of unbidden memories. Heartache - both over the memories, and a few things more current. And yet...

"You have turned for me, my mourning into dancing.... to the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent...."

I love the way the New Century Version puts it, too: "You changed my sorrow into dancing. You took away my clothes of sadness, and clothed me in happiness. I will sing to you and not be silent. Lord, my God, I will praise you forever."

Or the Message: "You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance; You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers*. I'm about to burst with song; I can't keep quiet about you. God, my God, I can't thank you enough." *(wildflowers... maybe a whole field full of little white ones?)

So I will start talking. And I will keep praising. I will find ten friends with whom I will walk this valley - or rather, I will ask God to send me ten friends who want to walk it with me - and when it is done, I will light a candle, somewhere. And I will dance.

Oseh shalom bim'romav hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol Yis'ra'eil v'im'ru. Amein.
(He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace upon us and upon all Israel. Now say: Amen.)

* Mudhouse Sabbath, by Lauren Winner. p. 27-28