small world?

I was at Kiwanis on Saturday, perusing the aisles for a white elephant gift and finding some more LPs, when I came across a wooden picture frame. The backing in it was shiny and silky, like the back of a photograph, so I investigated. Lo and behold, it was a photograph: an 8x10 of some girl about my age, taken in 1973. I was pretty amused at this find (and thought that she looked a little bit like my mom), so I bought the whole thing for 50 cents. The intent was to use it as a white elephant gift for the youth group Christmas party.

Fast forward to this morning. The picture of the random 70s girl is hanging on the wall above the coat racks in my entryway. My parents stop by the house and I point out the picture to them, explaining how I came upon it. My mom thinks she looks familiar, but can't place her. After a while, my dad says that he thinks it looks like Sue, my friend Fred's mom. So I tell them I'll e-mail Fred with a copy of the picture to see if it really is her.


Guess what? Fred confirmed. It's his mom. I bought a picture of Fred's mom at Kiwanis for 50 cents.

This made my week. I absolutely love random stuff like this. What are the chances?

patience, trust, peace

O God of all seasons and senses,
grant me your sense of timing
to submit gracefully
and rejoice quietly
in the turn of the seasons.

In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach me the lessons of waiting:
of the snow joining the mystery
of the hunkered-down seeds
growing in their sleep
watched over by gnarled-limbed, grandparent trees
resting from autumn's staggering energy;
of the silent, whirling earth
circling to race back home to the sun.

O God, grant me your sense of timing.

In this season of short days and long nights,
of grey and white and cold,
teach me the lessons of beginnings:
that such waitings and endings
may be a starting place,
a planting of seeds
which bring to birth
what is ready to be born -
something right and just and different,
a new song,
a deeper relationship,
a fuller love -
in the fullness of your time.

Ted Loder


This was the reading that framed the Whitworth Choir's Christmas concert this year. It resonates with me, as if this prayer was chosen specifically for me at this time in my life.

Being able to spend this last weekend in Seattle with so many dear friends was both wonderful, sad, and overwhelming. Seeing them - being surrounded again by music and companionship and familiarity - made me realize how completely at home I was with them last year. It also made me bitingly aware of how much I miss it, and how lonely and uncertain these last few months of my life have been. I feel like I am in a season of winter - there are short, glorious days of encouragement (like this weekend), but they are scattered between long nights of weariness, frustration, and uncertainty.

That's why Loder's prayer was so meaningful to me. It reminds me that the ending of school and the waiting, now, of not knowing quite which path I'm on, will be a starting place for something new - and right - and, yes, different. And even though my heart longs to return to the comfort and familiarity of that old song I knew so well - music, friends, studying, school - God is leading me to a new song, a deeper relationship, and a fuller love. Isn't it strange how we gravitate towards comfort? But comfort doesn't push us to growth. I know that eventually I will look back on this time and smile at the place it holds in my greater story. Unfortunately, that doesn't make the waiting any easier or the wilderness any less barren.

I recently listened to a sermon on prayer from my pastor in Spokane, Bill Mounce. He was discussing the ebb and flow, the seasons that we go through in life, prayer, and relationships. He illustrated the point by quoting Terry Muck, writing from the perspective of a farmer:

"The biggest difference I can see [between farmers and city-dwellers] is that city people always think that this year has got to be better than the last. If they don't get a raise, acquire something new, or find something somehow better off, they think they're failures.

Farm folks look at things a bit differently. We know that there are going to be good years and bad years. We can't control the weather, we can't prevent a bad crop, we can't control sickness. So you learn just to work hard, and make up your mind to take what comes."

God, grant me your sense of timing to submit gracefully and rejoice quietly in the turn of the seasons.

tree, twisted.

tree,
twisted.
always seeking out the Sun.
obstacles:
embraces them, itself
grows on
always towards the Sun.

branches,
lifeless.
attached, still a part, yet
dead. not growing.
lifeless.

me,
climbing.
twisted, crooked:
more accessible.
dead is rigid, breaks off.
life gives, holds firm

view,
partial.
perfect, yet impossible
without tree,
twisted.

poem?!

I wrote a poem today. It's different for me, because I don't usually write poems when I journal: I pretty much stick to descriptions and complete sentences. For some reason, though, what I had to say today just wouldn't quite work in prose. I haven't decided if I'm done with it yet, but here it is.

During worship practice, we sang a hymn that I've known since I was a little girl. It's one I know well, but today God used the familiar words to speak comfort and encouragement to my heart:

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of creation!
O my soul, praise Him, for He is thy health and salvation!
All ye who hear, now to his temple draw near;
praise Him in glad adoration.

Praise to the Lord, who o'er all things so wondrously reigneth,
shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth!
Hast thou not seen how thy desires e'er have been
granted in what He ordaineth?

Praise to the Lord, Who doth prosper thy work and defend thee;
surely His goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.
Ponder anew what the Almighty can do,
if with His love He befriend thee.

Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him!
All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him.
Let the amen sound from His people again,
gladly for aye we adore Him.

- Joachim Neander (1650-1680)

pursuit and response

I'm slowly working my way through The Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer. It's a book I had to read in one night or so for a Theology class, so I've been wanting to revisit it and take the time to actually process what it says (instead of skimming it through just to grab some supporting evidence for an essay worth 50 points).

His first sentence hit me in the gut. "Christian theology teaches the doctrine of prevenient grace, which, briefly stated, means that before a man can seek God, God must first have sought the man. ... We pursue God because, and only because, He has first put an urge within us that spurs us to the pursuit."

There you have it. My first big lesson of the week: He started it. God did, I mean.

We're not chasing after a God that runs away from us. We hunger and thirst for Him because He put the desire in us. When dealing with other people, it can be easy for me to let my confidence slip if I'm not sure of where I stand. I'll put off or avoid calling or writing friends because that nagging voice creeps in: why am I assuming that these people actually want to talk to me? I wonder. My brain knows better than to buy into those lies, but sometimes that insecurity lingers in my heart. That's what's so beautiful about the pursuit of God: He called me first, and I can eagerly and wholeheartedly respond to His love because I know beyond a doubt where I stand with Him: I am loved. I am desired. I can approach the throne of grace with confidence (Heb. 4:16), knowing that the God who bade me seek His face (Ps. 27:8) will hear and answer my cry to know Him more (1 John 5:14-15).

Which leads into the second major lesson that I gleaned from Chapter One: "There is little that we need other than God himself. ... Lift up thine heart unto God with a meek stirring of love; and mean Himself, and none of his goods."

Ahhh, Tozer. You're piercing my heart. I know that this is true, yet often I find myself seeking the goods instead of seeking God. It is so easy to surrender all of my time to the "important" tasks that really don't matter: preparing a Sunday School or Youth Group lesson, nailing down those Car Rally details, printing off lyrics for worship practice. I'm doing all this for God, right? But he doesn't want me to just do things for Him. He wants me to do things with Him. I want so badly to have a heart that longs for and delights in God alone, and is content with knowing Him instead of trying to achieve and perform. But so often I feel like I don't even know what that looks like. He's calling me to Him... but whenever I try to "quiet down my busy mind and find a hiding place," the to-do lists only scream louder, clamoring for my time and attention. Usually I divert my attention as requested; I can cross one more item off of "the list," but I haven't spent any time with my Savior. Exactly what I don't need.

I'll end this particular musing with Tozer's prayer, because it echoes very eloquently the longing of my heart.

O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need of further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, that so I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, "Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away." Then give me grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long.
In Jesus' name.
Amen.

sustained silent sunday school

The inevitable has occurred: I've finally gotten sick. The sleep deprivation, frequent contact with sniffly kids, and failure to drink the recommended eight 8-oz glasses of water per day has caused my immune system to finally crack. I'm spending the afternoon in bed sleeping, crocheting, reading, and drinking tea. I'm achy, my head is pounding, and my throat is an odd combination of phlegmy and scratchy. Gotta love it.

It's always amazing to me, however, how God picks the moments when we're at our worst to show us what He's capable of. One of my duties right now is to teach the middle school Sunday School class. I didn't have a great lesson planned this morning; all I really wanted to do was use my voice as little as possible and stay as far away from the kids as I could. So I printed off copies of Psalm 27 and handed them out along with a blank sheet of paper. I spaced the students out across the room and told them to read through the Psalm a couple of times, then take about a half an hour to respond to it. They could write, draw, whatever- as long as they were responding in some way to the Psalm.

After a half-hour of near-silence (which, I'm telling you, is quite amazing for this bunch), they returned to the circle and we shared what we did. I was completely blown away. One girl - a sixth grader - had gone through and highlighted the whole Psalm, color-coding it so that lines with a similar meaning had the same color. She then drew a picture, using the colors so that the elements of the picture corresponded to the elements in the Psalm. That's the kind of dissection that I did in my college classes. When I asked her about it, she said that was the first time she'd ever read anything that way. Another guy, a seventh-grader, drew a picture of David falling down towards his enemies, with God's hands in the middle waiting to catch him. He drew holes in God's hands to show that God is Jesus.

It was exciting to see their responses. The initial reaction - which I had expected - was one of confused skepticism. Did I really expect them to sit quietly for a whole half hour?! But by the end, they all came up with great stuff. I only told you about two of them, but the other kids had great drawings and writings, too. And they were all enthusiastic about sharing what they had come up with. I loved it. I handed them the page, stepped out of the way, and let God's word do its thing.

"For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." -Hebrews 4:12, ESV

please and thank you

It's 9:30 pm. I'm sitting at my kitchen bar with Stheve (my laptop... yes, it's spelled right), a mug of green tea, and a hastily assembled veggie-stir-fry-wrap-thing that I'm calling dinner.

I just got back from meeting with a group of students at Starbucks. About halfway through our time there, I went up to the counter to get an ice water. I think my exact wording was, "Could I have a large ice water please?"

The barista looked at me. "Thanks for saying 'please'," she said earnestly as she began to fill a glass. "It gets you a lot farther in this world than you think."

Her comment really struck me. How often to we sail through life, treating other people as objects, or merely means to an end? How often do we assume (unconsciously) that because we're only interacting with a person for a few moments out of our lives, that interaction can't be significant? A kind word - even just eye contact and a smile - can make a far bigger impact than we tend to think. Every time I talk to another person, I'm talking to someone that is created in the image of God. Every interaction, however slight, is an opportunity to communicate God's love. I wish I remembered that more often.

Faith my eyes

"Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading." --Oswald Chambers

the story of love

If you could show me the story of love
I would write it again and again

I was listening to Caedmon's Call's 40 Acres CD the other day as I was madly wrapping presents at the store, and these lyrics grabbed at my attention. They have come to mind a lot recently as I have been wrestling with some of the ways that God is working in my life. Why on earth would God do that?, I wonder. That's not normal! He hasn't worked in this way in my friends' lives! I question whether or not things really are from God when they don't fit "the pattern" that I see in books or in the lives of those around me.

Despite my questioning, every time I quiet my heart and listen for God's voice, he gives me confirmation.

"Is what I'm telling you contrary to scripture?" he prods.

"No," I grudgingly admit.

"Have trusted friends who love Me balked when you've sought their advice?"

"No, they've been supportive."

"Then basically, you're just squirming because you're in unfamiliar territory and you don't know what the future holds or where I'll lead you, right?"

"I guess, yeah. Okay. You're right." I mumble.

"Then give me a little credit here! I created you for a purpose. I love you and will never leave you or forsake you. I know you better than you know yourself: I am acquainted with all your ways, and I know your words before they ever reach your tongue. I have known what each day of your life will hold before even one of them came to be. Just trust in me with all of your heart, and don't try to lean on your own understanding. Acknowledge me in everything you do, and I will make your paths straight. Don't be wise in your own eyes: just fear me, and turn away from evil. If you seek my kingdom above all else, I will provide you with everything you need. I made you unique, with unique gifts, a unique personality, and a unique story: why do you feel like you have to compare your life to the lives around you? Don't judge yourself against them. It is before your own master that you stand or fall. And you will be upheld, because I am able to make you stand." (Joshua 1:1-9 / Psalm 139 / Proverbs 3:5-7 / Matthew 6:31-34 / 1 Corinthians 12:14-20 / Romans 14:4)

That's what is so beautiful about Jesus. His is the story of Love. And then God writes that story again and again, differently in each of our lives. It never gets old, boring, or worn-out; each of us have been created uniquely with different personalities and circumstances, so the story is different every time. But it's still the same story: the story of Love. The story of God loving us so much that he became one of us, suffered death, and rose again - all in order to restore our relationship with him. If my Savior loves me that much, whom have I to fear?

brief update on important things

So. I would have written in the last month, but nothing very exciting has happened. I mean... I graduated from college. I said goodbye to many dear friends and professors. I moved 300 miles away from the place where I've spent the majority of my last four years. I traveled back across the state to go to the wedding of one of my best friends. I watched my brother graduate from high school. I started work again. I helped my parents work on the house. To put it simply, there's been a lot of big changes in a short amount of time.

Here's a few pictures to illustrate:

Jay and I are in the back, with Mary and Keith in front. We took this at the Wild Horse Monument in Vantage, WA on the way to Melissa and Steven's wedding. The horses are (L to R): Stan, Larry, Gossamer, Elizabeth, and Norman.

Mr. and Mrs. Steven Cummings, en route to their reception at the Davenport. I love how this one turned out. The wedding was beautiful: they did a great job of combining their story and the story of God's love for us into one big meaningful-yet-fun party. :o) We even got a chance to swing dance at the reception!

And, last but not least, the graduations. I took the lead in May, then Erickson followed in June. My graduation was the day after his senior prom, but he got up early anyway and drove 7 hours so he could be there for it. Thanks brother!

I've also been working at RMAS again. It's good to be back. I had forgotten how much I love the store and the people I work with. I have some reading to do, though... I'm out of touch with the world of children's books after so long spent reading music and theology texts.

four years down, one final to go

It's incredibly strange to think that I am merely one final shy of the end of my academic career - at least for the foreseeable future. Although I admit that right now the "foreseeable future" only extends until about the 27th.

"How are you feeling?" everyone asks. "Are you excited to be finally done? What are your plans?" I usually reply with a smile and a shrug, which pretty much answers all three questions. How I'm feeling about it depends on the day. I'm torn between excitement at the prospect of a new and unknown future; sorrow at leaving a community that I love and am just starting to feel settled in; frustration at not being able to continue to study music here right as my interest and passion for it is building; and straight-up denial that any of this is really going on. On one level, it just doesn't make sense to me. Graduation? What does that mean? I'm supposed to know something now? For 17 years I have taken classes and soaked in information. Since before I can remember, my year has started in September and ended right around June. And now this shift out of academia is changing those familiar rhythms. I can't decide if I'm going to fall right in step with the new one or if it will take me awhile to adjust.

As for plans... well, I just don't know. I'm moving back to Anacortes for now. I'm working on a letter of intent for a ministry house that I'd like to open, to create a "home base" for the 20 to 30-year-olds in town. More on that later. I know that for the summer I will be working at the bookstore and hanging out with the youth group at church. Beyond that... who knows? But I truly am ok with those pages being blank.

For now, I have bigger bears to tackle: memorizing a semester's worth of various philosophers' ethical theories, internalizing seventeen centuries' worth of music history, and packing my life up so it can be moved 300 miles west. Onward!

Bloomsday!

For the uninformed, Bloomsday is an annual 12k (7.46 mi) race held in Spokane every year on the first Sunday in May. It's a pretty big deal in Spokane, and since I'm moving in 2 weeks I felt like it would be a good idea to participate this year. So, a few weeks ago, I called up my friend Michelle and said, "Hey, Michelle. Today's the last day to register for Bloomsday and I think we should enter." There was a short pause. "Uhhh... what? Okay... "

And we did. We ran/power walked (mostly power walked) all 12k and crossed the finish line victorious, having completed our first ever "big race."

We were pretty excited about it. I'm definitely looking forward to doing more of this type of thing in the future.

high-speed puddle-jumping?

I had a really good day today, for no particular reason. It was a deep and persistent good, full of potential: the kind of good that can only be expressed by spontaneously dancing to upbeat songs and smiling with friends as they talk.

This evening, I rode my bike to the HUB at around 8 to study. It had just gotten overcast, but the air was still warm from the sunny day.

When I left shortly after 11, it was raining. Hard.

What could I do? I tossed my bag into my makeshift milk-crate basket, squelched onto the sodden seat, and set off. It took me, oh, thirty seconds of riding through the rain to realize that home was not where I needed to be going right then. So I just rode. All over. I stopped at Mary's for awhile to say goodnight and tuck her in, then continued on my way. I must have wound around campus six or seven times before I finally made it home, dripping wet and hands stinging with cold.

I couldn't stop grinning; it was beautiful.
Happy Monday, everyone.

from distress to dancing

I was feeling pretty unsettled earlier today after figuring out what my schedule would look like this spring. This has come to be my start-of-the-semester ritual, it seems: I sign up for what seems to be a nicely manageable workload; I write it out on a calendar and have a moment of panic as I wonder what I've gotten myself into; and finally, I plunge into the semester and manage to get everything done somehow.

This evening, my panic-time was cut short due to my T/Th night class: Swing and Lindy Hop. Janie, the prof, is the most energetic, fun, and sassy woman you'll ever dance with. I was lucky enough to spend January with her in Turkey - she and her husband, Jim, were our professors for the trip - and now it will be fun to see her in her element. I've never taken a swing lesson before in my life, but I can tell you this: there's nothing like an hour and a half of dancing to kick worry out of your system. It's going to be a great semester.

a return to the (semi-) normal

Tomorrow is the first day of my last semester as a college undergrad. It will be nice to get back into a routine of classes, choir, and homework after 8 weeks away from it all. I should be in bed, but I'm not feeling too tired so I'm munching on chocolate-covered chickpeas, drinking water, and typing.

Turkey was amazing. The people I was with, the places that we visited, the knowledge and insights that we gained... it all combined into an experience that I know I'll be thinking through and learning from for a long time. I'm in the process of typing up my journal, and when I'm done I'll post some of it into a separate blog.

I flew back to Seattle on Tuesday the 23rd. I spent a week at home visiting friends and family, and then came back to Spokane last Wednesday. My roommates didn't return until today, so I've had the house to myself for the last four days. It has been restful and much-needed: last semester was packed, Christmas break was busy, and Turkey (although wonderful) was another month of zero alone time. I'm thankful that I've had this sabbath to regroup before spring semester.

Last night and tonight we had our "choir retreat," which is essentially two 3-hour practice sessions to get us launched into our spring repetoire. It was beautiful. It's hard enough to describe what it feels like to sing with a group like that; to describe how it feels to come back to it after 8 weeks away, or what it's like to sing through the Credo and Sicut Cervus and be a part of their exquisite harmonies, is impossible. It's like coming home.

time to fly...

How time flies. December got absorbed by classes, concerts, finals, family, friends, and Christmas. And now it's January 1, 2007.

In a few short hours, I'm going to be on a plane bound for Turkey. It's highly unlikely that I'll be able to communicate while I'm there... if I get a chance to use the internet at some point I'll give a quick update.