Memoria Arts~ Life in the Making

Naming, seeing, and knowing...

The tangle sometimes is all too obvious- twisted and turned, jumbled, disconnected. The solution, the straightened cord- rarely ever shows itself clearly. And immensely frustrated, we began to just pull at the knots, rough shod. But when we slow down, when we really see where the cord twists and turns, only then can we gently pull the cord through, in and out and up and down, until the mass of tangles straightens one by one. It requires patience and careful focus, two things that often seem in short supply when angry and frustrated.

How often has my life resembled that tangle of knots? A conflict with a friend, a misunderstanding, a disobedient child...all seem a mess, and not easy to fix, and so rarely do I actually stop and pay attention to the problem at hand, pulling vainly, and making larger knots than before.

Slow down.
See.

If there is one lesson I have learned this last year, it is quite simply, slow. See. Thank. One can slow down and see the problems and tangles, but it is only in the looking outward, in the gratitude, that the tangle becomes apparent, or dissolves all together. Ann has said so many times and in so many eloquent ways that one of the only ways to get a Kingdom prescription in our earthly glasses is to put on gratitude. I believe that her Spirit led advice is right on the mark, praiseworthy and true.

I confess, a year ago, that I felt Ann a bit of a crack pot. A beautiful, inspiring, lovable crackpot, mind you, but her gratitude community? Come on. I live in the real world. The real, dirty, messy, tangled world. Saying thank you for the little things seemed a bit whimsical, a bit too Polly-anna-ish for my cynical, bitter tastes. Could a gratitude journal, a counting of blessings, could it really make such a difference?

The proof is in the pudding, as they say. The stretch of the last twelve months has pulled and pushed myself and my family into some very uncomfortable territory, very troublesome territory. It would be perfectly normal for me to be upset and discouraged at what has happened. And some days, I confess, I do have those moments. Shadows do fall, the darkness creeps about.

But I cannot look at this last year, or even these last two weeks of sickness and trouble, and not see our gracious God. My agnostic friend accused me a month or so ago that it drives him nuts that I "see God everywhere" and I couldn't have thought of a better compliment. I've joined the crack pot brigade and I couldn't be happier. It saddens me that God had to strip everything away before I would listen, before I would hear, but at the same time, how glad I am that He loved me enough to do so!  I would rather walk in brokenness and devastation, instability and need, and know the Father's voice, than all the riches in the world.  I never thought I would say that, and mean it, but I do. I do!

Moses says:
Teach us to number our days aright,
       that we may gain a heart of wisdom. {Psalm 90:12}

and David testifies:
Sing to the LORD, you saints of his;
       praise his holy name.

  For his anger lasts only a moment,
       but his favor lasts a lifetime;
       weeping may remain for a night,
       but rejoicing comes in the morning. {Psalm 30: 4-5}

In Hebrews it says:

Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that confess his name. {13: 15}

In 1 Peter it says:

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. {2:9-10}

The blessings, the counting of days, are more than meets the eye. Certainly, it is fulfilling the Lord's own commands that we praise Him. But there are other benefits. Kingdom sight, for one. Perspective. An untangling of knots. The crooked made straight.

Oh yes, the dirty, messy world is still there, squalor and heartache waiting. But gratitude allows us to begin to see 'around the edges', to see the bigger picture, to see the living, breathing, active movement of God within and through even the messiest and darkest of days.

So we slow. We count. And we praise.

Join me, and the rest of Ann's gratitude community. I promise you won't regret it.

------

Related:

Naming the Face We Face , Ann Voskamp, Holy Experience

Taking Back the Day, Elise Hooper, A Path Made Straight

Seeing...

(This is a part of continuing poetry challenges over at LL's blog, Seedlings in Stone)

Slumber comes
inward floating down
dancing waters
rhythmic turn reaching
against starry night
stretch and grow

but in the darkness
fear and betrayal swim
swirling tempests
threatening to overcome

tossing and turning
flail I against the
emptiness
bedclothes tangle and catch

arm encircles
comforts, draws in
husbands heart beat pounds in ear
soothing slowing

tears wend ribbons
across skin down face
round curve
as I slip into sleep again

The great poem caper...

Laura has been playing with words over at Seedling in Stone, and she invited us on a bit of caper. There were a couple of options, all involving poetry.  It's been fun to see where the poems and words have wended their way. And, as usual, I am coming in under the wire.

She said that she cannot write poetry long hand and often taps it out on keyboard; I, on the other hand, can only write poetry long hand. Something about the feeling of pen on paper inspires. And it usually happens at the oddest times. This one sprang, full born, into my head at 11:30 last night as I was slipping into slumber. Which necessitated rising again, finding pen and paper, and scribbling madly. I awoke this morning to wonder if it was any good. It seems dreamy, like the dream land it came from.

I chose option three- to finish the line "If memories were sparrows..." You can read other poems that started this way here.

If memories were sparrows
sing, then
of dusty dim
faces fading

of fresh new life
fingers toes
and warbling cry

of dancing dreams
and laughing light
chasing across the floor

If memories were sparrows
fly, then
ahead
behind
on starry song
of joy
of love
of hope
of loss

of life.

Catching the light...

Every once in a blue moon, Rebekah and I get a chance to slip away for a few hours for some "just us" time. It almost always involves a new restaurant to try, good food, and a hot drink or two (coffee for me and tea or hot chocolate for her). The hours slip away as we talk about everything under the sun. Eventually, the phones start ringing, as husbands caring for kids begin to wonder if we'll ever surface. Poor guys.
    It's pretty much guaranteed that, at some point, we'll talk about blogging. You see, we met through blogging. Rebekah and I both read Elise's blog, A Path Made Straight. One thing led to another as we realized we lived in the same state. Emails begin to fly. We met in person a few times, and it quickly blossomed into a true blue friendship. We've carried each other through a tough year. (By the way, she is a killer cook. Seriously. You almost want to get sick just so she'll spoil you. Almost.)
    This last Saturday, we got to slip away. It was the rainiest, yuckiest day outside, and we were tucked into a booth, warm and cozy. We talked of our kids (we both have four), of our husbands, of the Christmas just past, of family relationships. Sometimes it's hard to trace the map of our conversations- we cover so much ground. I had paused to take a sip of my drink. She had been looking out the window, contemplative. She turned back to look at me. "You know, I think that's why I blog. That's why I call it Beautiful Days. Because I have to make this conscious choice to turn away from the old patterns, to find the beautiful. Like Ann says [The Ann she is referring to is Ann Voskamp, Holy Experience]. To purpose to see it. To know that God is moving. Because it is so easy...so easy...to descend to this place that is dark, that bears no joy." I paused again, drinking her words in.
    Even now, four days later, her words still pass through my consciousness. (It has been on her mind too- she posted almost the exact conversation here. Pure poetry.) Back in September, we all had been talking about why we blog: LL had been wondering, Ann had been mindful of fruitless blogging, and I had been considering the journey. There is definitely a dichotomy, particularly for Christian bloggers. Is what we're doing edifying, encouraging, and uplifiting to the body of Christ? Where's the line between showing everyday life and flaunting it, porn style, as Ann so aptly put it? Are we being honest or are we trying to gloss things over so that we appear perfect? Is the community real, or just imagined? (I argue that it is definitely real. I know it to be true- how much I have been blessed by bloggers who have emailed me, commented here, supported me, encouraged me...prayed for me!) 
    Rebekah's statements are such a valuable contribution to the conversation on blogging, big and small. It's been dwelling with me, making me think, reminding me to catch the light.

I want to tell you a story...

Mr. CiCi's man. We don't know his real name. But he's tall, African American, wiry and exuberant, with the most beautiful dreads I have ever seen. (If I was honest, I am quite jealous of his hair. It's that beautiful.) And he works at CiCi's, a pizza place. Now, I don't know if you have a CiCi's in your area, but they have a really cheap pizza buffet. They are also kind of, well, cheesy. Each pizza has a little cheer that goes with it, and the employees, (your quintessential American teens) are supposed to shout these when one comes out of the oven. The employees usually do this with all the excitement of greeting an IRS man. And, well, the employees don't really do their job well. They are lacsidasical and half hearted in their service. Perhaps the most embarrasing for these teens is the fact that one of them is supposed to go stand on the street corner with a sign, to get people to turn in and eat there.
    But then there is Mr. CiCi, as my kids have taken to calling him. This man has had such an affect on our lives, and I don't even know his name. We can't drive past the street corner without a smile spreading across our face. It's hard to describe what makes him special to us. I mean, after all, he only works at CiCi's right? But he does so with such joy and verve that he truly brings delight to the people who interact with him. He will greet you at the door with a hearty hello, and he enters into the cheer chanting with gusto, and when he serves you he does it with a laugh and a smile. This one day we were there, my kids kept spilling their drinks, and I was so embarrassed. And honestly, if I was Mr. CiCi, I would have been pretty frustrated with my family. But he kept helping me mop it up, and he had me in fits of giggles the whole time, along with the kids. This man truly has a gift for bringing people joy. My favorite thing about Mr. CiCi is when he is assigned the street corner. Most of the other employees would stand behind the sign, as if to hide, furitively talking on their cell phone. Not this guy. No. I think he has an ipod on, or something, but he dances, and flips (on one hand!), jumps, moves, juggles the sign. You can't miss him as you drive past, and he always, always has a huge smile on his face. Watching him dance, I can help but think of what Eric Liddle said about running: "When I run, I feel God's pleasure." Except for Mr. CiCi, it's "When I dance, I feel God's pleasure." It's like watching a kite turn in the wind, or bird dipping on the air, just for the sheer joy of movement. That's what it's like watching him on his city street corner, dancing with the CiCi's sign.
    One Sunday morning, I was sitting in service, waiting for it to start. And as I glanced up, I watched Mr. CiCi walk in. (I should preface this with the fact that Grace is pretty big- with 4,000 coming through the door every weekend over four services.) It was like a light bulb flashing crazily in my head. I exclaimed out loud, "of course!" (at which my husband looked at my oddly, until I pointed out Mr. CiCi to him). It suddenly all made sense, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to see him walk into service. There had been a few discussions between James and I about Mr. CiCi- along of the lines of, "wow, how does he do it?" and "man, you can't forget him." It all became clear- of course, that's where the source of his joy came from! (I wish you could have seen this man worship- it was a sermon in and of itself.)  And boy, did that get me to thinking. Am I, as Christ follower, being a Mr. CiCi's man? Am I living my life in such a way that people are wondering what makes me tick, what the source of my joy is? Now, every time I pass him, I both smile and I am reminded. Be a CiCi's guy. Bring joy. 

What I learned from Government...

That it will never be enough.

(This is part of a group write project for High Calling blogs, hosted by High Calling Blogger Robert Hruzek of Middle Zone Musings this month.)

Samuel has an interesting discussion with God in 1 Samuel 8.  To summarize: the Israelites wanted a king. God says- if you, Israel, choose this, it’ll never be good enough. The king will take a tenth of this and that, he won’t keep your best interests in mind. Israel says: But we want to be like everyone else. God replies: Fine and dandy, but you won’t like it. And you’ll cry out to Me to change it, but I won’t hear you.

Granted, the conversation was between God and Israel. But after watching yet another dizzying round of elections, it’s a conversation worth paying attention to. Here in America, our president has been chosen. Some of us are elated and hopeful. Others are feeling depressed and scared. Yet both sides of the divide can see clearly that the problems America faces are enormous and troublesome.The problems have been years in the making, consequences of decisions made generations ago.

And without opening a can of worms…everyone has an opinion about how those things could be fixed.  Some are for limited government, some are for big government. Some are all about social change, some are not. Some want things ‘they way they were.’ There are opinions from all sides, everywhere, about how to get it done. Even within the Christian community, there is not a consensus. A close friend of mine lost a dear, dear friend over this election. And I think, we’re all reeling a bit.

There has been a lot of talk about ‘hope’. But dare I say it? It is a misguided hope. Our hope, our citizenship, lies in God alone.  While we as Christians should work with and submit to whatever government that happens to be in power where we live, we should never pin all of our hopes and desires upon whomever happens to be in power.

No one government can fix all the problems…not one G8 conference has led to world peace. That should beg the question- why not? Why can’t we eliminate poverty, racism, injustice? Doesn’t it just mean everyone gives a little bit more money?

I have my own theories on this, but I put these questions to an agnostic friend of mine. Here’s the conclusions we came to:
•    many operate by a similar moral code (even as an agnostic, my friend acknowledged that we shared the same core of moral absolutes.)
•    some do not. (Is this a problem of post-modernism, or enforcement? We couldn’t decide, and I won't subject you to the hours-long argument.)
•    Therefore, government tries to ‘bridge the gap’ between those who need little direction due to moral codes, and those who have no moral code.
•    The dilemma becomes one of absolutism or rehabilitation for law breakers. Neither is a pretty solution. On one hand- absolute discipline means the loss of life and no chance of change (executing a person the first time they steal). On the other hand, an imperfect solution (rehabilitation hardly ever works because no government has been able to fix the whole life problem: poverty, injustice, economic turmoil.)

Government will never be enough.

And we Christians should not be walking through life acting as if it is. Our focus, as Larry Nees so aptly put it, should not be focused who is sitting in the Oval Office, but on just Who is sitting on the throne in heaven. We are dirty, messy, broken humans in need of heart transfusions.

Only God will ever be enough.

Even though Israel chose a king over God’s sovereign hand, He left them with a promise that we can cling to today.

This is what the LORD says:
       "In the time of my favor I will answer you,
       and in the day of salvation I will help you;
       I will keep you and will make you
       to be a covenant for the people,
       to restore the land
       and to reassign its desolate inheritances,
 to say to the captives, 'Come out,'
       and to those in darkness, 'Be free!'
       "They will feed beside the roads
       and find pasture on every barren hill.
They will neither hunger nor thirst,
       nor will the desert heat or the sun beat upon them.
       He who has compassion on them will guide them
       and lead them beside springs of water…

See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands…

                                                Isaiah 49:8-10, 16