happy anniversary tim!

Happy Anniversary my Beloved!  You are wonderful and I am so thankful that God brought us together. I love you more than I can say.

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."

the waiting room

"Bob? Right this way please."

The nurse lead an elderly gentleman with a cane to his examination room.

There were seven people left in the waiting room.

"I told you Steve, I was in the meeting. Jefferson was very clear about what his expectations are for the next quarter. We are going to need every last sale in our territory. I'm working on fine-tuning our plan for the next two weeks right now," a woman in business attire with a bluetooth and open laptop continued her work day in a chair near the door. She was very distressed earlier when there wasn't an available outlet for her laptop.

A seat away from the business woman sat a construction worker with his arm in a sling. He had been injured recently on the job in a machine accident. Workman's comp paid his way. He was in for a follow-up. He was watching an Oprah re-run in between paragraphs about the NFL Lockout in a month-old Sports Illustrated.

Across from them sat a couple flirting. The man talked about his recent outdoor adventure; he had been hiking and canoeing for ten days near Lake Superior. He was wearing a black and red plaid shirt and had well-manicured stubble. The woman was blinking repeatedly and leaning in towards him with her arms folded under her bust-line. She occasionally interrupted his story with oohs and ahhs, and expressions of disbelief.

Close to the television sat a mother and her young son. Her son's nose was bright red and he sniffled in between sobs.

"Why don't you play with the Legos, Alex?" Alex shook his head and buried it in his mother's lap. Across from her sat a man with a bottle of hand sanitizer.

"I bet he has an ear infection. Little kids always have ear infections. I used to get them all the time." He squirted his hand with sanitizer and wrung his hands together several times.

"Do you worry about getting sick with something just by coming to the doctor?" the sanitizer man asked Alex's mother.

"No, not too much," she said. "Usually we are already sick, so I don't really think about it."

"Well, I'm not usually sick when I come. I just come to get checked on for my diabetes and asthma. I worry that I'm going to get the flu or shingles. I'm so afraid of shingles."

"Did you get chicken pox when you were little?" asked Alex's mother.

"Yes, it was terrible."

"Well, you don't have to worry then. It's unlikely that you'll get shingles."

"But you can get them. It's not a 100% guarantee. My cousin had both. You have a 20% chance."

"Well," said Alex's mom, "I guess you could get it, but I don't think you should worry."

Sanitizer man squirted his hands again and rubbed them together vigorously.

"You can never be too safe ma'am. Uh, what is your name?"

"Cindy."

"Nice to meet you Cindy. My name is Gary. I'd shake your hand, but, you know."

Cindy nodded.

"How old is your son?"

"Alex, how old are you?" asked Cindy, encouragingly holding up three fingers. Alex buried his face deeper in his mother's lap, then turned his head to peer at Gary with one eye.

"Three years old, huh? I don't remember being three. I remember being four. I got sick and was in the hospital overnight. My mom stayed on the chair next to me and my dad brought me a teddy bear. I got stuck 8 times before they found a vein for my IV. I hated needles ever since then."

Cindy winced and looked down at Alex, hoping he just had an ear infection. "Do you use needles for your diabetes. I mean, to check your blood sugar?"

"Yes," said Gary, "I hate it."

"Alex?" called the nurse, "Mrs. Roberts?" Cindy started to get up.

"Well, it was very nice meeting you Cindy," said Gary. "Good luck with the ear infection Alex." Gary saluted the little boy and started to watch Oprah.

Gary pulled a notecard out of his back pocket. On the notecard he had scribbled, "back mole," and "insomnia." He looked over the card and rehearsed in his head what he would say to his doctor.

"Well Doctor, there is this mole on my back. I have been measuring it for the last ten years and I think it may have grown. Can we check and see if it is cancerous? Also, I have hardly been able to sleep lately and I worry that I am suffering from insomnia. Is there anything we can do to remedy these issues?"

Gary folded up his card and placed it back in his pocket and turned his attention back to the television. A new segment was starting on Oprah. She was going to interview a doctor on early dementia. They were going to talk about cases of dementia before the age of 50. Gary breathed in deeply. He had forgotten his sister's birthday last week. He pulled out his card and scribbled "dementia" under "insomnia."

The business woman and her bluetooth were called into the doctor's office. She huffed past the nurse and muttered something about time being money. The waiting room was much quieter now. Only the couple's flirting conversation could be heard interrupted at regular intervals by the construction worker's snoring.

Gary tried to relax and thought about buying a belated birthday card for his sister at the drugstore on the way home. He would probably need to pick up a prescription anyway.

The door opened again. The construction worker was called in and Alex and Cindy walked out. Cindy finished signing out and paying at the front and walked over to Gary.

"You haven't been called in yet Gary? You were here before we got here." Cindy looked concerned.

"Oh, it's okay. I come here so often they figure I can wait a little longer I guess. How's Alex?"

"You were right, Alex had an ear infection. The doctor gave us a prescription and said it should clear up pretty soon. How did you know?"

"I've seen it before, experienced it myself." Gary shifted uncomfortably. Alex had walked up to him, put his hand on his knee and was motioning towards the Legos in the corner.

"Well, I'm very impressed," said Cindy smiling. "We'll see you later Gary."

"Bye Cindy, Bye Alex. I hope you feel better soon."

hope

I get my hopes up, too fast.

Let's back track a little bit. I love change. Yes, change is difficult. Having moved so many times growing up, I always missed what I had left behind, but I got this insatiable desire for adventure in return. Like Pa Ingalls, "My wandering foot gets to itching," and I'm ready to pack up and move on.

This thirst for adventure gets twisted up in my sense of purpose. Then I feel lost.

"Where I am going?"

"What is the point?"

"Is this it?"

I think about all the things I hope for, the people I want to minister to, the places I'd like to go, the books I want to write, all the things I want to accomplish...I take a look around me and I wonder if those things I hope for so desperately will ever happen. Because I just can't see it right now.

I worry that my dreams are not valid, not important to God. I worry that they don't really line up with His purposes.

I worry that if I do get to fulfill those dreams, I'll get to the other side and say, "That's it? All these years for this?"

I've already seen in my 24 years a pattern with the purposes of God. He may not give you exactly what you want, in the timing you want, or the way you want it. But it is always perfect, and better than what you wanted in the first place. So why worry right?

Easy to put on paper (or screen, I should say), much more difficult to put into emotional practice.

When the future husband, child, job, college, ministry... whatever it is you are hoping for consumes your thoughts constantly, it's not that easy to say "Lord Your will be done." We want to say, "Lord my will be done, please give it Your blessing."

Today, it dawned on me that I have been hoping for good things the wrong way. I hope to have children someday, hope to have a ministry to immigrants and the disabled, hope to live in a different context, hope to be a published author, etc. Are these things wrong and sinful? Not really. But the way I hope for them is.

I have been placing my hope in these things, rather than just hoping they would happen. How do I differentiate between the two? Like this:

When I place my hope in these things, every setback to their fulfillment leaves me hopeless. I feel empty, purposeless, and depressed. I question, "Why am I here right now?" and give myself an early morning pity party before work. I can't see God moving in my circumstances because I have placed all my hope in different circumstances.

I haven't placed my hope in God.

"For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience." Romans 8:24-25

My hope doesn't rest in the unseen. I'm "hoping" in the things of this world, thinking that a change will make me feel happier and more fulfilled. That I will be more in line with God's purposes if I'm doing the things that I am passion about. These things are good, but I cannot place my hope in them... I cannot trust in them.

Even if I was in a dark prison with no food, waiting for my execution I could place my hope in God, in the unseen. I could know that His purposes, though inscrutable at times, were good and I would be with Him for eternity.

Though my circumstances stay the same, though my dreams continue to be dreams, and though all desires may not be fulfilled, I can place my hope in the God who created me and know that He is sovereign in this place. The place that I am today, whether that is the same tomorrow or fades away.

I pray that God would change my heart, that it would always long for the things He longs for. That I would dream about Him and desire His ways.

Instead of looking for the next big change, maybe God Himself is my adventure?

My hope is in You, Your will be done.

has death won?

Yesterday I got a phone call from my mom two minutes into my morning commute. A couple had been shot close to our home in a car the same color as ours, and she called to make sure we were alive. We are, and I assured her Tim and I were safe and sound.

As I made a left onto the entrance ramp, listening to "Concerning a UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois," I saw a pigeon laying on its belly on the side of the road, slowly turning itself around. The last time I saw a bird like that was a robin I rescued when I was nine. I named him Robbie, and he died the next morning. I started to tear up, and forced them back so I could keep my eyes on the road.

Last night, we heard about the bombing and shootings in Oslo. My heart goes out to the people of Norway, to the country of our great-great-grandparents. May God comfort your souls and give you peace.

It is hard to think about death. A serious reflection on it usually brings tears and distress. What if I lose someone I love? What if I die violently? What if I never get to say goodbye?

Death is distressing because we were not created for it. We were made to live forever. But we sinned, and now death is the doorway to eternity, whether that leads us to separation from God or unity with Him forever.

Death cuts us off from everything we have ever known, from the people and community we love, the places we cherish, the joys we cannot seem to live without. But it also reunites us to the ones who have gone on before, to the One we walked with in the garden at the beginning of time.

I would be lying to say death doesn't scare me silly at times. I'm not very bereaved, and it is difficult to know that I will lose people I love. In some ways I think that is ok. Knowing that death will come sooner or later, I want to live life to the fullest now. More importantly, I want to share with everyone around me the secret to eternal peace, love, joy, and life. Jesus Christ.

That being said, I don't want to fear death. Death comes to all and I know Jesus, the Savior. He conquered death by rising again. And He will not allow me to slumber in the ground forever. I will be reunited with Him for eternity. The One who loved me and you so much He died a violent death to save us. I don't need to be afraid of death.

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7

Jesus will also make all things right one day. He will wipe away our tears, and there will be no more death- no more bombings, no more shootings, no more cancer, no more starvation, no more suffering. There will be justice, there will be peace.

His heart breaks to see us on earth, suffering under our sin and the sins of others. Suffering for things that we don't deserve, for things that occur because the world is broken not because we are being punished.

A boy in Brooklyn was murdered recently walking home from summer camp. It wracked me up inside as I thought about his little body in pain as he died, to think about his parents. His parents will never be the same. Everyday they are going mourn, everyday they will wonder why they didn't do something differently. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and worrying about the little people I love. And I want justice, I want justice for that little boy and his family. I want justice for the people of Norway.

I don't know where you are today. Maybe someone you love has just passed away, maybe someone you love is battling cancer, maybe someone you love was just diagnosed with autism, maybe someone you love is far from God.

Maybe you don't know how to reconcile yourself to God when you are surrounded by suffering.

Jesus understands. He walked on this earth. He loved those who were suffering, and suffered Himself. And He has conquered death because of His deep, unquenchable love for you. Give Him the burdens you are too weak to carry anymore. Give Him your fears about death. Give Him your suffering.

These are things I am working through. I need to give Him my fear, my worries, my terror, my suffering.

He can carry us. Death will never win, Jesus has already defeated it through the cross.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." Revelation 21:4

jewel and dostoevsky

Last night Tim and I took a trip to Jewel for a few things. We quickly found our orange juice, couldn't find goat milk ( I think we are in the middle of a goat lock-out), and settled for almond milk.

We waited in line at the express self check-out, and walked out the automatic door. In the cart corral we were cut off by a little old lady with a do rag handkerchief on her head, a skirt, and white socks with dark shoes. She looked up at us in surprise, and Tim said "Hi!" She looked frazzled and hurried out with her cart and shopping bag.

As we walked to our car she booked across the parking lot at a suprisingly high speed, which prompted Tim to say, "She's making a break for it!"

We watched this old lady on the run with her cart, wondering if she would be caught, eyes darting from side to side, nervously checking the automatic lock wheel to see if it would stop her run from the law. We passed her on our way out of the parking lot, still trucking her away across it like an wild animal was chasing her.

I kind of wish in hindsight that I had gotten out of the car and asked her if she needed help, or a ride to get home. But I didn't. And I wonder how she and the cart are getting along today.

The old lady reminded me a bit of Raskolnikov from Crime and Punishment. He plotted out his crime so well, he would never be caught. But the guilt of it weighed him down and drove him insane. I read that book my first year at Trinity for Modern European Literature with Dr. Baxter. After class, before soccer practice I would read a couple chapters on my bunk bed, and then fall asleep. I don't think it was eye fatigue or laziness (that happened with other books), that book was laced with so much suffering and guilt it made you feel hopeless, like you were Raskolnikov's accomplice in the pawnbroker's murder. I fell asleep from the mental burden of it all. I like to re-read books, but I don't know that I will re-read that one again any time soon.

Over 4th of July Tim and I saw "Tree of Life" at the movie theater. I don't really want to give away anything about it in case you haven't seen it, but I will say that I loved Malick's portrayal of guilt. In the movie the boy does something he is ashamed of, and as he walks home his mother is standing outside waiting for him. She says nothing, only looks at him. He looks at her and walks to the house. He says he wants to be like his brothers again, to feel innocent. That whole part gave me chills. I know that feeling. I know what it is like to be guilty, and to feel like everyone knows it. To feel alone, and exposed. To feel afraid. To long for innocence.

My favorite song in high school was Switchfoot's "Innocence Again." I wanted to be pure. I wanted to be free from my guilt riddled mind. I was always good at confession and beating myself up over sin, but not so good at accepting grace.

I think there is some grace in guilt itself. If we never felt guilty for stealing grocery carts, harming others, impure thoughts, or disobeying our parents, we would never feel the need for a Savior. We would feel as though we had it together. Feel like we could make it on our own. As people we would hurt each other more than we do now. Guilt keeps us from committing sins that we won't get caught for, because the burden is still there. The punishment is a tormented soul.

But we can't stop there. We aren't meant to live in guilt and self-hatred. God will forgive us and extend His grace to us. He is merciful, and He wants us to be re-born in Him. We cannot earn that forgiveness through self-inflicted brow beating. It's free because of Jesus, because He loves us.

Jesus loves you. And He doesn't want you to carry around your guilt anymore. Drop it at His feet, confess and walk in His love. He wants you to be free from sin, and live in Him.

"And I said: "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for." Isaiah 6:5-7

bicycles, climbing trees, and cassette tapes

I think about being a kid sometimes. Some things make me think about being a kid. An old home, an old album, and a bike.

Tim and I started riding bikes, again. I say again because in the past we were both avid bike riders, for me that was about 14 years ago. My friends, brother, and I would ride back and forth on a frontage road by our old farmhouse. I don't remember why we didn't get bored riding that same path to and fro, but I know we loved to ride. I recently recalled a memory I blocked out from embarrassment. I had learned to ride with no hands, and decided to ride with my eyes shut as well. Within seconds I was in the ditch with fresh scrapes and bruises. Nobody knew why, I would never tell.

We've been riding our bikes on the lakefront path. It makes me feel like a kid again, the cool breeze whipping round my face, teasing out my flyaways as we pass walkers and runners- and get passed by more serious bikers with spandex shorts. Your heart feels full from the intoxicating blend of wind, sun, and movement. Once again, I love to ride my bike.

A couple weekends ago we visited the old farmhouse where my grandparents still live. I hadn't been there in the summertime in years. We climbed the old tree, and I marveled at our ability as kids to scale it. Sure, it has gotten a little taller, but so have I. My first time in that tree I was afraid and called out to my mom for help. She instructed me to jump and assured me I would be just fine. The landing sent shockwaves up my legs, but they wore off quickly enough. Soon we were climbing that tree everyday, hatching plans and forming clubs. Tim and I sat in that tree together, and I wondered at the passage of time.

That house always makes me happy, and it's bittersweet. I love to be there. Every sidewalk crack, bush, and room has a thousand stories from childhood. I love to remember, and I grieve. I grieve the days when I was small, when I was child in my family, when the days were long and full of tiny adventures. And I'm happy, happy to remember those days and grateful that they ever were. Grateful to be with my family, my grandparents, and share those memories with my husband.

The other day I was shuffling my iPod and a song from Jars of Clay's first album played, Worlds Apart. I was immediately transported back into the family van, driving around the college town we lived outside of listening to that cassette tape. The songs from that album made me feel things, feelings that were not always informed by the lyrics (which I did not understand), but I felt just the same. Feelings of joy and sadness. Longing. I felt those again as I stood in our apartment, washing our blue dishes, making dinner.

All of these things make me sad and make me happy at the same time. The feeling is complex and common to man. I think we all long for the past and relish its remembrance, but we also love now. There are lessons I had to learn back then and in the years to follow that I do not want to be reminded of. There was sadness, there were humiliations that stung, separations that ached. But in these memories I am reminded that God is so good and so gracious. Life is full of many joys, some profound and some small, like bicycles, climbing trees, and cassette tapes.

I am thankful for my family, for my husband. I am thankful for the ways God has provided for all of us. I am thankful for the lightning bugs and summer nights. I am thankful that God has been with me every step of this life, through every joy and sorrow, and I will spend eternity with Him. I think I'm ready to go ride my bike and make some new memories. Thank You God for bicycles, climbing trees, and cassette tapes.