watch, wait, see

Lately, I've been reminded of how often I miss things.  I've often allowed distractions whether inside my head or outside of it to make me miss the things that are right in front of my eyes.  A hurry, rush, distract mindset keeps me from a watch, wait, and see kind of life, the kind I ultimately desire.

A few weeks ago I finished reading "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek," a book of reflections by Annie Dillard from living next to and observing a creek and the life surrounding it and in it for a year.  I read it over the course of a few months, which was not the best way to read it, but I loved it despite struggling to sometimes grasp the overarching structure, which was fully revealed at the end.

The thing I learned, the thing that changed me from reading it was a reawakened desire to see, to be present and watch for things I would otherwise miss in my daily mental distraction.

Around the time I finished the book it finally started getting warm here in Chicago.  My daughter and I go on frequent walks together through our neighborhood, soaking up the sun I missed so badly, and my baby girl meeting the sun for the first time after spending her first months of life trapped inside by late fall and a long winter.

Now I watch, I try to see things I would normally miss.  So like Annie waiting on the bridge for muskrats, I look to see things in places that are familiar, waiting to see something new.  I saw a bird with black and white markings with a red badge on its chest, a kind I had never seen before in the next door neighbor's tree.  I marveled at the nearly naked trees exploding into vibrant green after the spring rain last week.  I saw bird droppings fall from a tree.  I stopped to breathe and smell lilacs.  I watched squirrels carry their trash turned treasure from the garbage cans along the fence.  I saw a tree bloom beautiful pink blossoms one day, and returned to see the petals covering the sidewalk a couple days later.

And I watch my baby.  I watch her take in everything for the first time.  I see her look up into the trees and gaze at the branches, stark against the blue sky.  I watch her grip the tray of her stroller, sticking out her little chin, braving the spring wind, looking like a tiny sea captain of a ship she can't steer.   I see neighbors smile at her whether or not they make eye contact with me.  I hear her babbling and cooing to the trees, the flowers, the wind.  I watch her give in to sleep and wait for her to wake up and discover more of the world surrounding her.

I'm seeing the beauty, the gifts around me, and the newness of life in spite of the brokenness around me.  

It isn't all idyllic in a Chicago neighborhood.  There were emergency vehicles on our block the other night. A man passed away a few houses down. We've seen graffiti on garages, on stop signs.  There are streets full of potholes.  There are homeless men peddling at the corner.  One look at the Tribune in the morning can sour your day to there being any hope in a violent city like this.

Pascal said, "Every religion that does not confirm that God is hidden, is not true."  The brokenness is often the blinder, the shield against seeing the God who heals and creates, the God who makes all things new.

The brokenness is evident not just among humans but in the world of creatures as well.  In the second half of Tinker Creek, Dillard spends time focusing on the violence in creation.  Animals eating their own young,  the mating ritual of praying mantises, bugs and animals living parasitically off of each other, the river floods.  Even in a pastoral setting with few humans to cause trouble, there is violence, there is pain.

Prolonged study of nature, be it the created world or mankind or both together, will dazzle the observer with breathtaking sights of beauty and bitter signs of corruption.  Things are beautiful and things are broken.

"Reading about nature is fine, but if a person walks in the woods and listens carefully, he can learn more than what is in books, for they speak with the voice of God."- George Washington Carver

I want the voice of God to speak to me in sunsets and spring rain, but could it be that the voice is just as loud when I walk by the dead body of a pigeon, a fallen tree, a smelly sewer grate, a one-eyed dog?

"For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities - His eternal power and divine nature - have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse." Romans 1:20

Photo by Michal Ann Seeland

Perhaps the voice that shouts to me of the divine nature of God when I see the stars in the Northwoods is the same voice that screams inside me when another child is shot on the south side of my city, when someone dies too young, too soon.  The voice that cries "all is not right" begs me to recognize that there must be something, Somebody who is right, who is good.  That this world wasn't made for violence, and one day it will be violent no more.

Can the brokenness that hides God help us find Him once again?

Can the glimpses of beauty remind us there is something Beautiful behind it?

Will we be saved by observation that leads to sorrow that leads to repentance?

We took a walk last week and passed the house that was visited by emergency vehicles a few days earlier.  Our little neighbor was running through the grass and laying dandelions and tulip petals on the porch steps.  "I'm decorating the porch for my neighbor who died," she told us solemnly.  Beauty in brokenness.

The world around us is one grand parable of a hidden God that will make Himself known to children and those with child-like hearts. He will speak in the splendor and the suffering.  We must wait, watch, and see that we may know and understand.  Open eyes may lead to our salvation.

"Jesus asked, "Do you see anything?"  He looked up and said, "I see people; they look like trees walking around." Once more Jesus put His hands on the man's eyes.  Then his eyes were opened, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly." Mark 8:23-25

We can't stop looking for the God who gives sight to the blind, makes the lame walk, and the deaf hear.  The God who made things perfectly is renewing that which is broken.  Whole or shattered, He is still here amongst the pieces for those who look for Him.

"And He who was seated on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new." Revelation 21:5

the body He has made

"Then she came to a page which was such a blaze of pictures that one hardly noticed the writing.  Hardly-- but she did notice the first words.  They were, An infallible spell to make beautiful her that uttereth it beyond the lot of mortals. "

The above passage is from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis.  Lucy is reading through a book of spells so she can reverse a curse, and she runs across this spell, a spell that will make her more beautiful than anyone else in the world, including her sister.  This  story is strikes home for me, and I'm sure it does for other women as well.

It's no secret.  I have a love-hate relationship with my body, that usually tends towards the latter.  I have struggled with my body image for a very long time.  Some days are better than others, most days are better than they once were, but I'm still not where I would like to be.

I change clothes and re-brush my hair hoping something will change.  Hoping that I will look at the mirror and be satisfied.  Hoping that one day when I pass a beautiful person I won't compare myself anymore.

This week I started reading a book called "Practicing Our Faith" a collection of essays about living out the Christian life.  It deals with many interesting and challenging topics, and one of the essays was titled "Honoring the Body."  In it the author, Stephanie Paulsell, writes about how God made us in His image and He made us beautiful.

I was particularly moved by a story she shared about a young woman who suffered from intense acne.  She could not bear to go out with her friends because she was ashamed of her face.  Her father asked her if he could show her a new way to cleanse herself.  He brought her to the sink and told her to splash her face once and say "In the name of the Father," a second time "in the of the Son," and on the third "in the name of the Holy Spirit."  Finally he said, "Look up into the mirror and remember that you are a child of God, full of grace and beauty."

I loved that.  Too often I look at myself in the mirror and critique all that I see.  I focus upon myself negatively and wish that I was different.  I forget that by wishing that I'm telling God He made a mistake when He made me.

God made us beautiful.  He made you beautiful.  He doesn't make mistakes.

I'm trying to change things up at home.  When I look in the mirror, rather than practicing spite and self-loathing, I thank God for making me.  I thank Him for being my Father.

I posted the following verse on our bathroom mirror:

"As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.  Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.  Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony."  Colossians 3:12-14

I know my mornings would be different if I focused on clothing myself with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and love instead of which jeans, t-shirt, sweater, socks, and shoes.

When Lucy finds the beauty spell in the magician's book she is tempted to read it as quickly as possible.  She sees pictures of herself becoming the most beautiful woman and all the kings of the world are fighting for her hand.

"I will say the spell," said Lucy, "I don't care. I will."  She said I don't care because she had a strong feeling that she mustn't."

"But when she looked back at the opening words of the spell, there in the middle of the writing, where she felt quite sure there had been no picture before, she found the great face of a lion, of The Lion, Aslan himself, staring into hers.  It was painted such a bright gold that it seemed to be coming toward her out of the page; and indeed she never was quite sure afterward that it hadn't really moved a little.  At any rate she knew the expression on his face quite well.  He was growling and you could see most of his teeth.  She became horribly afraid and turned over the page at once."

It isn't pleasing to God when we hate the body He created for us, jealously desire beauty, or worship our bodies over the One who created it.

I know that my focus upon myself, though negative, is still a form of self-worship.  It consumes my thoughts and turns me away from my Creator.  I also know that my tendency to jealously compare is harmful to myself and others and disappointing to the One who created me.

You may not be like me.  You may be completely at peace with the body God has given you and be able to thank Him for His wonderful handiwork.  If you are like me, I know that coming to terms with what He has given you, to believe that it is beautiful when everything around you including yourself is telling you don't measure up, is very difficult.  Know that God loves you, and He fashioned you before the beginning of the world.  He knows your name, He knows every hair on your head.

God made our bodies, and He made them good.  And more importantly, He loves us, and He will love us forever.

"When I look at Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have set in place, what is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You care for him?  Yet You have made him a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned him with glory and honor."  Psalm 8:3-5

The Lord has made you wonderfully, and He wants you, His child, to draw near to Him.

"Then her face lit up till, for a moment (but of course she didn't know it), she looked almost as beautiful as that other Lucy in the picture, and she ran forward with a little cry of delight and with her arms stretched out.  For what stood in the doorway was Aslan himself, The Lion, the highest of all High Kings.  And he was solid and real and warm and he let her kiss him and bury herself in his shining mane.  And from the low, earthquake-like sound that came from inside him, Lucy even dared to think he was purring.


"Oh, Aslan," said she, "it was kind of you to come."

beautiful gifts

Two beautiful things from today.

The rain on our car as I waited to go into training for work. I love the sound of rain on the car and seeing the droplets accumulate on the window. I've always loved being in the car while it rained, taking long drives especially.... watching it stream down the windows, feeling the cold glass against my hand, my cheek.

The pink sunset sky. Tim and I ran downstairs to get a picture of it before we ate dinner. Within minutes it was gone. Glorious.

God's gifts to us are many, and beautiful.