brushing shoulders

There is a woman, a beautiful woman who, just this morning woke up and wondered if she belongs.  This woman has walked through a number of difficult things in life; some things harder than she thought she could bear. She's had some rough blows thrown her way; dodged a few, fell flat on her face over others. She found Jesus, or maybe actually, he found her, and she lives most days so thankful to give Him her all and so unsure if she is.  She knows that her self worth is found in Him; He who says she is His child, friend, forgiven, free, not judged, accepted, called, new, promised, provided for, completed, chosen.

She's been blessed with a good marriage, they work at it, but it is good and that's sadly rare these days; and a sweet family,  matter of fact there are days her heart swells with so much love it is overwhelming and hurts in her chest.  Her job is good and challenging as are some of her friends. She is fun to be with and people gravitate toward her.

But in the deepest parts of her, even after all God has forgiven and given and spoken to her, there's a struggle. A struggle laced with anxiety, a struggle to understand just how valued and loved she is, a struggle not to question other's motives, others love for her, a struggle to truly believe that God created her just. exactly. right. 

And sometimes, this beautiful woman falls into the trap so many women of this generation fall into and she finds herself trying to rest in and assert her competence to understand and solidify her value. Sometimes she forgets that God placed her in the positions and relationships shes in, not to prove herself, her worth, her value, but for a specific purpose that is HIS and His alone. A purpose that supersedes all occupation, all status, all  insecurity even- it goes beyond everything else- because it's purpose is people. God loves people and the places he puts his followers is less about what we do, and more about who we do it with.  

When she trusts HIM with THIS, everything shifts;  how she sees her work, her friendships, her volunteering, even her marriage, relationships insecurities, inadequacies.  Then, can her head rise high with assurance that comes from her Almighty God whose plans are so much greater than her own understanding and who calls HER and prepares her for all HE sets before her. Then, when her shoulders brush up against others, insecurities can fall away as she wonders, not "do I belong", but, "what would God have become of my time with this person?"

So every day, let us start by putting aside, letting go and trusting God with His placement. The exact right place for a purpose far greater than position or occupation. We will work hard, we will strive for excellence and we will endeavor to raise up a generation of young women different then ourselves, who boldly know who they are and what makes them truly belong.

Proverbs 16:9 "The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps."

Pit dweller

So the truth is, sometimes I "dwell in the pit", maybe I've even been doing it tonight. This is the pit of self doubt, the pit of insecurity and loneliness, sometimes worthlessness  and uncertainty. I'm thankful that it doesn't usually last very long and I don't write tonight to expose myself as much as to share in case some one who reads this is also an occasional or more than occasional pit dweller too.

I'm so thankful that years ago, in 2000 actually, Jesus reached down to me in the darkest days of my life and pulled me out of the pit, a pit I pray I will never return to.  But I realized something new this weekend, that maybe for the rest of the Christian world is obvious, but for me it was a game changer and as I try to process it I'll write it out.

While at the Orange Conference, a Next Gen Ministry Conference in Boston this weekend, one of the speakers talked about the importance of Creating a Safe Place for our small group kids, one where they feel that they matter to you, what matters to them matters to you and that they matter to you more even, than what you believe. That relationship and EMPATHY amplifies the truth.

The speaker spoke about empathy vs compassion. Compassion hands a sandwich down to the person in the pit but empathy crawls down in the pit and sits with him.  This made good sense to me until the speaker said "Jesus empathizes with your weaknesses and jumps in the hole with you, we want to be like Jesus." The tears started to roll and I struggled to get them under control.

I didn't realize it, but I think that my entire life I have seen Jesus reaching down and pulling me out of holes, even picking me up and carrying me a part of the journey before standing me up on my two feet again. Sharing the truth with me, cheer-leading me forward, kicking me in the pants but I have never considered that he might actually crawl down in to the hole with me, hold my hand and cry with me.

Doesn't this change everything?

For a person who "needs nothing from anyone" is "strong, determined, a get it done personality"- doesn't this change everything?  For a person who struggles to allow herself to be weak, hurt, vulnerable, knowing that Jesus doesn't even need to cheer-lead you through it, but would take the time to crawl down in the hole and sit awhile, this changes everything, at least it does for me.

The speaker brought out Hebrews 4:15-16 which says "This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same testing we do, yet he did not sin.  So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God.  There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it most."

I've always read this as a "Jesus was tempted to do bad things and didn't"
kind of verse. But  what if because Jesus felt weak he knows what it's like to want to curl up in a fetal position and give in to the pit for awhile, hide from the world, "hole up"?  What if he knows what it is like to cry and have your heart break, and be lonely and unsure and feel it all? And what if, because of that we don't need to pull it all together for him, jump up again after a fall or a bruising and say "I'm fine!" but we can sit there for a bit and allow him to join us, because he knows what it's like, he can empathize with us, with me, and then, only then, can the waves of mercy, love and grace come crashing over me and my confidence be restored.

What if this pit dweller has company?

while she sleeps

It's after midnight as I slip into bed and find this little imp snuggled up cozy on Daddy's side. "When did she slip in here? " I wonder. And I stop, as all mothers before me do when the day has been full and fast and there's been little room for a pregnant pause.  The tears slip down my tired, freshly scoured cheeks as I watch her so peaceful, stuffed lamb on her chest, Mom's quilt wrapped tight around her, Daddy's pillow bunched beneath her head of unruly curls.

I wonder what it is about this space that makes it so easy to fall asleep?  She has a room tailored to her own likes and dislikes, her favorite colour, pink, horses, loads of horses, stuffed animals, pretty dresses and dolls, her own collected treasures lining EVERYTHING, her older adored sister close by her side;  but instead I find her here.

The world outside the walls of this house is crazy it seems. Shootings even just today, too close to home, racial divides, presidential debates loom in the very near future making everyone feel uneasy, financial trials, families pulled apart, undervalued, under-celebrated, bombings and destruction, people fleeing for their lives, hungry, homeless, insecurity, loneliness, uncertain is all that is certain.  Except maybe, the scent of your Daddy, the warmth of your mama, their presence makes real rest a possibility.

And isn't it the same with our father God? More so even. When we've found those moments of breathless closeness, experienced the scent of HIS presence, the embrace of HIS unmeasurable love, isn't it only then, that we can put aside the worries, fears and hurts of this confusing life that leave us feeling so uncertain and rest, and heal, and feel peace?

Mark 6: 31 "Jesus said to them, Come away with me.  Let us go alone to a quiet place and rest."

like a superhero, she fell

Unlike this dark and rainy day, the sun shone with promise, and a fresh crisp bite was found in the air as she climbed the ladder that would set her on a path she didn't anticipate, one not welcomed nor anticipated, one that would change everything.

A bit of attitude and a whole lot of "let's just get this done" may have been coursing through her blood that September morning; pressure washer in one hand, ladder rung in the other- reaching five feet over the earth. A split second, an uncertain movement and a 'knowing' coursed through her being.

Arms stretched before her, like a superhero,  but face first in the dirt, spiders and ants crawling all over her brokenness she worked to keep the 'knowing'  at bay and consciousness at hand while moaning and kicking the dirt beneath her,  "no, no no."

Her husband ran to her, trying to get her upright again- an impossibility as the bones rolled and shifted inside, loosely encased only by the flesh of her arm- this moment changed everything. The neighbor trying to keep her conscious, the ambulance that just wouldn't come, the EMT's lifting her despite the inner wreckage, the reality of this new inconvenience beginning to settle in.

One massive bone, the humerus and 7+ fractures later- such unfathomable pain, such unfathomable fear, and vulnerability- all unwelcome, all immediately life altering.

Dependency changes everything for some of us.  In the daily life; the folding laundry, washing dishes, making supper, sweeping the floor, taking a shower, sleeping in your bed. Physical dependency makes you vulnerable. Solitude makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability is tricky to negotiate when self sufficiency has been mounted on a pedestal and properly lighted for far too long.

What is it about dependency that rips at the soul of who we are or who we long to be?  Why is it that even when we try so hard to at least be vulnerable with our spouse, there is nothing like the vulnerability of being unable to do "your part", that reduces you to a weeping mess of emotional dependency night after night after night.

And take away "Mama", have her writhing in pain and fear of more pain, have her not really present on pain killers, have her unable to rock her baby to sleep, or stay awake to hear of the first days of school, and the vulnerability of labels being ripped untimely from the descriptor you call yourself leaves you smarting.

And friendships, how often do we dare to be vulnerable with our needs, how impossible is it to let our friends into our real mess and sit with us for awhile, fold our laundry for awhile, wash our dishes, see it as it really is, see me as I really am?

So where does all this leave this superhero one year later? Fallen. Broken. Changed. Unsatisfied to go back to the certainty of self sufficiency, unsure of the courage it takes for vulnerability and even dependency with a few,  but desperate to be marked by the experience. As my humerus recreates itself,

 I pray so does my soul.

Our Story

12 years ago tonight I was quietly sneaking in the side door of my apartment trying not to disturb anyone after my first date with Chad. I couldn't have imagined my landlady was awaiting my return (had I even told her I was going out with him?) but she tiptoed to the door and asked me to come sit upstairs and tell her all the details, interjecting a few of her own "Bobby, Billy and Becki Billington" thoughts.

Earlier that afternoon my cell phone rang in the computer lab at Marshall DÁvery Hall and a handsome young voice came over the receiver.  "Hey Heidi, it's Chad. I was wondering, you know if you're not folding laundry tonight or something, if you'd like to maybe go get something to eat?" My heart was nearly jumping out of my chest as I very calmly said that sounded fine.

Later we jumped in his little Nisan Santra that would hold many more adventures for us, and hit the road for St. John.  Chad had heard about a Thai restaurant there that was pretty good and we wanted to have a chance to get to know each other a bit without eyes watching everywhere.

The bay window was waiting for us with a candle twinkling in it, the night fog left a mystical curtain hanging over the view, classical music played and we were certain the evening was directly penned for us.  We were just kids, pinching ourselves to believe the evening wasn't merely conjured up in our minds.

You know, 12 years later I wouldn't say that marriage is always easy.  That first year of marriage had some definite rough spots, and bringing babies into a relationship always adds a good deal of confusion to the pot for awhile, financial stress, major unexpected and traumatic life events; these moments aren't easy but I wouldn't change it.  I don't claim to be an expert in relationships or marriage for that matter, but it can be so good.

To be as transparent as you can be, and sought to be understood.
To witness your every day, the "unmake-uped days" and loved regardless, maybe even more because of them.
To share secrets; both joys and heartaches, fears and laughter, the loudness and the quiet.
To have someone fight to believe the best in you, again and again and again.
To reach across the room with a look and be brought back in; seen.
To sink into an enveloping embrace and be swallowed with assurance.
To have your life witnessed, remembered and even aspired toward...
This day after day,
story after story,
forgiveness after forgiveness,
love after love is powerful.
It's worth the risk.

We discovered down the road of life that both of us were a little star struck that night.  But we do need those nights along the way to guide us back don't we? The conversation was endless and strangely open for a first date; I think our souls connected pretty quickly.  And tonight, 12 year later, we did do laundry; loads and loads of folding up the past week, evidence of the fullness of our family; but we did it together and I'm so thankful.

when she buys you a fountain pen

It's been an emotional week to say the least.

Tuesday I dropped Zoë and Eliya off for their first days of school this year (Gr 2 & 4FI) and although I will admit to being a wee bit nervous I didn't expect to have a mini internal meltdown after dropping off my oldest. Contrast  Eliya who had whispered adamantly to us numerous times onto the school grounds "I'm ok, you can go. I'm ok you can go!" with Zoë, for the 3rd year running moved out of the class with her closest friends into a class to fend for herself.  All of the confidence and assurance of the night before sucked from her face and was replaced by a brave resolve. 

Now I can imagine several reasons as to why this must have come about but UNFAIR was all that was coming to this mother's mind.  This kid, is amazing, rally's around all the time, feels unseen so often, cares for her younger siblings, stays late and long, shares her parents with a multitude of others and has the kindest heart, always watching for others and here she was, maybe even because of some of these things, expected to do it all again, because she can.  When I bent down to give her a hug before I left her to fend for herself I whispered "If you want me to try to fix this hun, I'll try." To which she replied "Give me the day to see Mom." and put on the most courageous face- which of course weighed a 1000 pounds on my chest all day.

Wednesday rang up early getting Nathaniel off to Kindergarten.  Now if I'm honest K Orientation was a bit of a nightmare experience for the two of us.  Although we have worked long and hard all summer "getting excited for school" I don't think I even realized how much stress I was feeling wondering if I was going to have to peel my little man off my leg and lock him in the school wailing for me or hang out with him in the playground tire all day (again).  On the drive in he said to me "Mama, I was thinking, what if Zoë & Eliya go to school and Violet & me stay home and take care of  you?"  He kills me.  But he decided instead he'd get his new teacher a coffee and when she came out of the building he marched it right up to her and stood in line entering the school like a champ. Minutes later 'pan in' and find me sitting in the van tears rolling down my cheeks. So much emotion. so much parenting insecurity. Violet squeals from her carseat in the back "Mama! Let's go shopping!"  The moment wasn't lost on her.

Let's add in a touch of "man cold" in the household, and by this I mean each one of us is suffering pathetically, and Friday came none too soon.  Zoë had asked me for a Mommy/Daughter date and we knew she had a gift card for an amazing craft store in town so we headed off there for at least an hour of perusing.  While they were totaling up Zoë's purchases I had been chatting with the clerk about the "fountain pen that just ruins you" displayed on the front counter to which she had replied "tell your husband!...maybe for Christmas, maybe your birthday".  Zoë returned a few items and the clerk began ringing the rest in. 

Zoë slipped a pen on to the counter.  

"For you." she looks at me with those gorgeous blue eyes that see the world and the souls in it.  

"Oh no sweetheart, you don't need to spend your money on me!" 

"For you."she repeats emphatically.

"What is it?" I ask wondering what she's found.

"A fountain pen."

The clerk interjects, "that's not the one she...."

And I interrupt her, she's missing it, my daughter is buying me a fountain pen.  It is a disposable one, not the glorious one displayed on the counter for everyone to ogle but one she has put her little treasures back for so that I can have it-- and my heart is going to burst. I choke back more emotion then can be healthy to keep at bay and say thank you as she skips out of the store, her warm little hand in mine.

What do you do when she buys you a fountain pen?  When as woman, a wife and especially a mother you often feel unseen, you struggle to maintain and discover your identity and then your 8 year old daughter catches a glimpse of you- you the person. You the lover of paper, journals, words and fountain pens.  I suppose you stop and breathe the moment in deeply, let it permanently tattoo itself on your bursting heart and relish that she even wants to spend time with you, let alone might even love you for who you are.

let them see you

You should see her tonight, her blue eyes bright with possibilities. Her smile stretching from pink cheek to pink cheek as she dances on tiptoe around her bedroom floor.  "Maybe I'll make a new friend this year, maybe I'll learn to like Math.  I think I should join choir. Do you love my new shirt?" She's so beautiful.

We've worked hard for this. A summer of late nights and late mornings, summer camp and s'mores, ice cream and scouring beaches, back yard dinner theater and bedtime shows, crafts and more crafts, she cooks breakfast, her first sleepover.

You see a year of school can be a difficult thing on a 3rd grade girl. It takes it's toll on her spirit as she finds her way in the world and toward the end of the year there are times I struggle to find her, her spirit, her soul; weighted down by unmet expectations, broken friendships, a changing body, uncertainty, awkwardness, a hesitant smile. But you should see her tonight.

So you'll understand my heart as I hand her over into a new world of Grade 4, one she must learn to navigate of course, one she must struggle in to find her own way, one that will certainly hurt her, make her question her worth, but one that offers her joy, laughter and friendship too. Choose wisely and try try again, risk your heart for love and friendship sweet girl, and let them see YOU, gorgeous you, because you're so beautiful!

A Naked Summer

I had a naked summer and I was 36 years old. I didn't know how badly my heart needed it until it found me skinny dipping in the kiddie pool at midnight with my husband, carefully exposing my soul to a new friend, ripping back the layers that had hardened over my heart with each turn of the page in a book, crying wild tears into the ocean surf, laughing uncontrollably around a campfire and dancing in the white cresting waves on a moonlit beach.

I watched her run naked all summer. Naked in the kiddie pool, naked on the beach, naked in the ocean. Her soft white baby skin bronzed by the sun and I just couldn't make her keep her clothes on. I watched her dance and shake and run across the lawn in fits of giggles and I couldn't help but smile to myself. It was her innocence, her joyfulness, lightheartedness, her nakedness that spoke to my overdressed soul and I knew I too needed to find a way to be naked again.

Others watched with disapproval, sometimes asserting their belief that she should be clothed, I should be clothed. I struggled to put them on again but they were heavy, weighty and I knew I couldn't, shouldn't even.

So I will learn from my naked summer and pray Autumn doesn't put a chill in my spirit and make me forget my husband's cool scratchy kiss on a hot summer night, the healing found around a cup of coffee with a friend who sees you, the truth nestled among lines of printed word, the sting of the ocean on my cheeks, the joy of laughter mixed with woody smoke and the sparkle on the water at night.

And she shall run naked.

Picnics

Nate just packed the picnic basket for and headed outside, when I stopped him and asked what he'd packed, he proudly opened the lid and showed me what was inside "Yogurt and spoons in case we are hungry, flipflops in case someone pees in their boots, a mermaid tail and Captain America, a helmet in case we decide to play balance beam." I'd say he's got it pretty well covered wink emoticon

a God-themed birthday party

Eliya's birthday preparations are underway and Nathaniel looks up from dancing to the worship music playing and says "Mama, I'd like a God-themed birthday party. We could sing and dance, tell stories and do crafts about God. There are so many people who don't know about God." I melted a bit.

fitbit

Zoe "Hey Mom, I bet if you ran around the house a couple times there you could break a record for you on that Fitbit."... Sweet daughter of mine....

love & war

"I think it's more of a war story Eliya, not a romantic one." Roll of the eyes.
"But when there is war there is often romance Zoë!"

‪#‎personalities‬ ‪#‎family‬ ‪#‎suppertable‬ ‪#‎dontmissit 

In my today

This human journey is such an interesting one. One minute you can be carrying on like you have no knowledge of yesterday, it's realities don't even exist, and the next moment you are so overcome with them you are dropped to your knees. How thankful I am that the maker of my yesterday and my tomorrow stands by my side in my today.