b o t t o m l a n d

b e o p e n e d

This is a post I wrote last month on my work blog.  I'm trying to get back into posting here, and am sharing some things that I've either written or loved in the last few months.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, ‘Ephphatha’, that is, ‘Be opened.’ And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly.  -Mark 7

Sometimes I come across something—a poem or a prayer or a piece of artwork—and it just sort of undoes me. I just had that sort of moment, and I’m struggling to wrestle something big and glorious and TRUE into this space here, because I’m excited to share it with you.

This morning a co-worker sent me a link to this sermon delivered yesterday by Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber at the Festival of Homiletics that took place this week in Nashville. In his email my coworker wrote, “I thought about it as a blog post, but I’m not sure what I’d pull out or what I could add to it. The whole thing is terrific.” And that’s just it. What more can you say when faced with words of truth that knock you clean off your feet? But I’m going to try, because I’m stubborn like that.

What Nadia is getting at in her sermon is the ways in which we all tend to look for the most “broken” person in our midst, and get all holy, praying for God to heal THAT person over there. She examines the otherwise-unnamed “They” in the passage above, and how “They” begged Jesus to heal their friend.

Hey Jesus – we, the people who are just fine brought you the broken guy so you can fix him... I can’t help feeling like it would have been more realistic if all of the THEYs who brought the deaf man to Jesus would have also sought healing for themselves... But that’s not how we operate, see. We tend to let the obviously broken people carry all the brokenness for us. 

The scripture doesn’t tell us what the deaf man himself wanted, but it does tell us particularly that Jesus took the man aside “in private, away from the crowd.” And what Nadia points out is that the words Jesus uses to effect healing in the deaf man is not “be healed” but “be opened.”

We so often think healing is about identifying what’s wrong and then having that thing cured, but I wonder if spiritual healing has more to do with being opened than it does with being cured.

Because, let’s be honest, it’s usually easier to not change and it’s painful to be open and healing can hurt. Like a frostbite patient … when the blood comes back into the extremities it’s incredibly painful.  It can actually be more comfortable to allow parts of ourselves to die than to feel them have new life. Because sometimes healing feels more like death and resurrection than it feels like getting a warm cookie and glass of milk.

Rev. Nadia had me at “be opened.” Part of my own story is that I lost my father to cancer earlier this year, after months of dear and faithful friends praying for his healing. Now, cancer is an evil disease, truly, and praying for healing is a good thing to do, but for my dad, he wasn’t healed—at least not from the cancer—which caused a lot of pain for those who were faithfully praying for healing. But you know what he was?—he was opened. He was fully opened to the love and presence of God, in a way that I’ve never seen him, even after six decades of good and faithful Jesus-following. And that was truly a miracle that I got to witness.

Beyond my own story, though, is the reminder that this sermon was explicitly crafted for and delivered to PASTORS. It’s important, I think, not to miss this point, because it’s those of us who spend our lives working for the care and healing of others who often miss how deeply in need of healing WE are. So I invite you to click on this link, invest the six minutes that it takes to read this piece thoughtfully, and prayerfully consider what Jesus is saying to you today. I am praying with you, for the healing of us all.

Be opened to what Jesus is saying to you.

Be opened to the idea that your value isn’t in working 60 hours a week for people who might not even be paying attention.

Be opened to knowing that your own brokenness doesn’t need to be hidden behind someone else’s brokenness.

Be opened to the idea that you are stronger than you think.

Be opened to the idea that you aren’t as strong as you think.

Be opened to the fact that you may not ever get what you want and that you will actually be ok anyway.

Be opened to this whole Gospel of Jesus Christ thing actually, actually, actually being real. And actually being FOR YOU.

Because maybe that’s what healing really is.

Since the radical reign of God that Jesus ushers in destroys the systems of designated sick people and designated well people so that all that is left is a single category of people – children of God. 

--Caren

Top image by flickr user Vincent_AF, lower image by flickr user Jenny Downing, both used with permission via Creative Commons

november beauty

Whoever said that November is a dreary month has either never visited New England or has no scope for the imagination.  It is so hauntingly beautiful up here in New Hampshire this time of year.  October is (of course--it's my birthday month!) my favorite, but November has a beauty all its own.

It's true that it gets dark early, but that glorious dusk light lingers in the late afternoon and casts a magical glow over everything.  And the naked trees reaching up to the sky reveal to me how God must see all of us--naked and rather gangly, but reaching--hopeful and trusting--with all our might.

This afternoon I enjoyed a lovely walk by the river behind my parents' house with my mother and daughter.  I've walked these trails countless times, but I see things fresh each time.  And exploring my own childhood haunts with Clara is nothing short of magical.

I have so much to be thankful for tonight:

.: For my dad's life and currently stable health.

.: For my mom's tireless dedication for caring for my dad in his illness and demonstration of what "in sickness and in health" means.

.: For my dad's ability to keep a cheerful spirit so much of the time even though he is confined to his bed and chair.

.: For my daughter's outpouring of love for my parents, and her sensitivity to the fact that this is a difficult time for them.

.: For my husband's love for my family, and his hard-working spirit, even though he's so tired.

.: For my nephews and their shreeks of laughter that fill this house to bursting.

.: For my sister and her husband, and their faithfulness in being the people "on the ground," supporting my parents day in and day out while I'm so far away.

.: For my in-laws and their understanding and support for us being up here in NH and not even stopping in at their house this Thanksgiving, even though it is their family's most special holiday.

.: For my grandparents' continued good health and spirits, and their willingness to travel to be with us even though their bodies are slowing down with age.

.: For my sister's in-laws who have become good friends with my parents and cherished members of our extended family, and for their provision of much of tomorrow's feast.

.: For the "family" of good friends that Dave and I have built over the years, and the tenacity of friendship that can stretch across time and distance.

.: For this home that I grew up in, and the shelter it provides to so many of us.

.: For a day when our whole country pauses collectively to give thanks.  The holiday itself may have dubious historical significance, but it has come to represent a beautiful spirit of generosity and gratitude that is worth celebrating.

What are you thankful for this November?

a prayer among friends

It is hard to even know what to do with the reality that my dad may not live for more than a few months.  And yet, what a wonder that "we walk here in the light of this unlikely world that isn't ours for long."  Sometimes {and if I pay attention, often} the beauty of this world sweeps away the pain of it.

{The sun waking up over the Atlantic.  Taken on the beach on Ocracoke Island.}

A Prayer among Friends

by John Daniel

Among other wonders of our lives, we are alive

with one another, we walk here

in the light of this unlikely world

that isn't ours for long.

May we spend generously

the time we are given.

May we enact our responsibilities

as thoroughly as we enjoy

our pleasures. May we see with clarity,

may we seek a vision

that serves all beings, may we honor

the mystery surpassing our sight,

and may we hold in our hands

the gift of good work

and bear it forth whole, as we

were borne forth by a power we praise

to this one Earth, this homeland of all we love.

 

"A Prayer among Friends" by John Daniel, from Of Earth. © Lost Horse
Press, 2012.

 

time to go

.: Because 10 years ago I stood before my young love and pledged my heart to him.

.: Because I turned 33 last week, and he turns 33 next month.

.: Because hard seasons can last too long.

.: Because he and the girl had vacation at the same time, and she could go be with Nana and Grandpa.

.: Because life is short and my dad is ill.

.: Because it's been 10 years since we've gone on vacation alone together for more than 1 night.

.: Because the ocean air is balm for our souls.

.: Because sometimes it's necessary to go away to be reminded that we find our Home in each other.

.: Because a small island in the middle of the Atlantic is a good place to remember that we are small and the world is beautiful.

.: Because sometimes, it's time to go.

because sometimes being a mother feels this dramatic

There are days, whole rivers of days, that stream past me at warp speed, with precious little to tether me to awareness.  And then there are days like today, that stop me in my tracks, days that seem to shake me by my shoulders and say, "You are never going back.  Everything is different now." 

I put Clara on a plane, alone.  I had hardly even hesitated making the reservation.  My mom and dad were eager for some extra time with her--the luxury of unstructured summer afternoons that our family gathering of next weekend will not afford--and they offered to pay for her ticket if she could come early.  What could I say?  Of course she can come!  All the packing and preparation was rife with anticipation and confidence on her part, and I worked damn hard to show her only my confidence and pride in her courage. 

And I did have confidence in her!  And I do have tons of pride!  But there was something else, nibbling at my consciousness, that I wasn't sure what to do with.  Today when it came time to march her through the snaking security lines and down to the gate, it gnawed at me.  And when she was swallowed up by the door to the jetway, crossing that threshold I could not cross, it hit me in the gut: grief.  My baby is so big and I am saying goodbye to her. 

I am saying goodbye.  

Now, I know I'm being dramatic, but I'm also being totally serious.  This small person, who once took residence in my body, is marching confidently away from me with barely a wave over her shoulder.  And I am left.  Alone.

I walked back along the people movers, past security and out into the blazing heat, and my body felt hollow. 

She is so much a part of me, and yet not mine.  This motherlove load is a heavy one sometimes, and I feel stretched to my limits.  I want so badly to do this well, to love her into freedom, not into bondage.  I want so much for her to stride with confidence into this glorious world, expecting only joy and adventure, and yet it hurts me physically when she does so.  

She is still, seven years later, being cut out of my body with knives. 

keep the old

Making new friends as an adult is both easy and hard.  In some ways, it's easier than when I was younger because I'm much more settled into myself, and therefore less threatened by people who are different from me.  I'm more willing to seek frienships with people who I might not "naturally" gravitate towards.  As 15 years of friendship with Eden has tought me, a friend can be a near opposite and a kindred spirit at the same time.

But of course, grownups (including me) are so damn busy!  It's hard enough to make time for excercise, sleep and family amidst our busy work lives, and meaningful (or even just fun) time with friends often gets pushed to the back burner.  Dave and I, who are both very social, friend-oriented people, have often found ourselves being the initiators of social gatherings and connections, even though people genuinely seem to like us.  And yet, we both recognize that for all the initiave we do take, there are countless unreturned calls, unaswered letters, friendships un-tended to.  It's been a tricky tension for us both to navigate as many of our dearest friends have not lived geographically close to us, so we try to juggle long-term, long distance friendships along side local, spontaneous friendships.  As we both struggle with time management and "executive function" (darn ADHD!) we sometimes have felt unable to cultivate ANY frienship well.

**A few shots from the summer that represent friendship to me. 

Don't be offended if you don't see yourself here please!  I'm not making any big statements about the quality of our relationship! :)

In the most recent phase of our life, Dave and I were juggling his work schedule (often 60 hours a week), my near-full time job, Clara's school and childcare schedule, a working farm, involvement in our church...  Let's just say that we haven't been the best at maintaining friendships.  When we packed up and moved down to North Carolina, we were so sad to leave our friends and family behind, and to be honest, I thought that I wouldn't even really seek friendship down here.  Part of me said, we already have all these dear friends that have always been long distance, and now all of our NH friends and family will be "long distance" as well.  How can I possibliy keep up all those relationships, and make new friends in a new place?

And yet, of COURSE we need friends "on the ground"!  One of the hardest things about moving has been loneliness, and so making new friends becomes an imperative.  We already have been blessed by reciving such a warm welcome from our friends at Rutba House and Chapel Hill Mennonite Fellowship, and it is such a relief to have these potential friendships all around us.  And so I venture out with my little, slightly battered heart on my sleeve, looking into the faces of all these kind and interesting people, and wondering, "Will you be my friend?"  Unfortunately, people don't come with labels that say helpful things like "I'm kind of lonely and would love a friend," or "I'm really overwhelmed with the relationships that I already have, and I don't think I can keep up any more friendships right now!"

Anyway, this blog post is getting very long and rambly...  I guess I'm just curious how you all (if I have any readers left) navigate our basic human need for relationships with busy schedules and competing committments.  For those of you with a partner, is he/she your "best friend" or do you still rely on close same-sex friendships?

All these rambly thoughts about friendship were ignighted by my plan to share these pictures with you of four recent visits we've had with very old and dear friends down here in Durham.  While Dave and I are both enjoying the richness that comes with new friendships, there really is nothing so sweet as an old friend, and I am gratefull that these folks made the journey to see us and cheer us up as we continue to find our footing in our new life.  Sarah & Stu, Tante Heather, Tante Eden, and Kelcey, Lili and Seo, thank you so much for coming to visit us!  We love you, and had so much fun showing you around Durham!

**One final note, I didn't include any pictures of my sister and the rest of our NH family, who are obviously friends as well, but that's a whole 'nother blog post!  Miss you all! xoxo

Saturday night links

Right now we are all loving this cooler weather.  Things are starting to feel a bit fall-ish, and I've even worn my boots a couple of times this week!  We are reveling in a delightful mid-week visit from my oldest friend and her sweet children, and now are treated to a two day visit with another old and dear friend, Eden.  While we have been loving making new friends down here, nothing makes a space feel like home like having OLD friends in it!  I am so greatful for these two special friendships! 

Other things I am loving this week are:

• THIS song...  What can I say?  Her voice is amazing!
• This parenting blog...  So much wisdom for parents of children of all ages.
• The images in this collection...  *Sigh*  I do miss farming!
• Long cotton skirts like this, this, this, this, or this!    
• Dreaming of a coat rack like this or this...
• This show...  Soooo funny, and at 22 minutes and episode, I can actually watch it!
• Dreamy new Autumn Reflections from Ruche!
• All the pretty things at this blog...

I hope your week was rich in friendship.  Wishing you all a happy Sunday (as it is now past midnight!)

think outside...

I've been in a pretty good funk for a while now, but this week I decided that getting outside would help (um... duh!) so Little C and I set off on an afters-chool adventure on a new trail we discovered.

We found so much beauty and air to breathe and even some fairy houses...

 

where the magic happens...

Today was the first Monday of first grade, starting of our third week at Emerson Waldorf School.  Here are some things I'm loving so far:

• I still don't have a job, so I'm still the designated driver, which means I get all that great car time with Little C.  We already have a tradition established of listening to quiet music on the way home, and not really talking much.  I'm trying to refrain from peppering her with questions, and allow her to process the day in her own time (it usually comes tumbling out in the darkness of bedtime...)  In the morning, it's usually rock-out time.
• The switch to a whole day at school (from 1/2 day kindy) is a lot for Little C (in some ways she still seems so little) but they have a rest time every afternoon when they lie down with a blanket from home while the magical Ms. Rogers tells them a story.  
• Every day at drop off and goodbye, Ms. Rogers meets each child at the door, shakes their hand, looks them in the eye, and greets them.  It's lovely, and it makes the drop off totally without anxiety or chaos.  Little C goes directly from the attentive care of one adult to another.
• Music, art, movement and nature are all part of the rhythm of each day.  While she does have a special music teacher who comes down the her classroom on Mondays, she sings with her teacher every.single.day.  Some of their other "special" classes (when another teacher comes in to work with them) are German and Handwork.  Ms. Rogers does painting and form drawing with them daily, and various movement activities.  
• They have *2* recesses per day.  Little C is becoming an excellent jump-roper, and getting such strong legs as a result!  Their playground is shaded from the North Carolina heat under tall trees that filter down the most magical light.
• The classroom is beautiful, carefully attended to and outfitted, and home base.  They leave it for recess, but otherwise all their classes and lunch time happen here in this sacred caccoon.  People wonder "Are children in a Waldorf School over-protected?"  In my reading and observation, it's all about timing.  The high schoolers are plenty savy to the ways of the world, but yes, they do try to protect the 6 year olds and give them a safe foundation that then grows into the courage to explore.
• Ms. Rogers is a seasoned teacher, who wisely saw right through Little C's dramatic and effervescent demeanor to the sensitive, sometimes insecure child within.  (Not the the dramatic side isn't real, but there's also this quiet brooding part of her that many adults miss in the face of her verbocity and charm!)

~Prayer flags over the archway that greet us as we come and go~

~Showing me her blackboard, adorned with an image of the little prince that is the main character of many of the stories her teacher tells~

~Her friend's little sister wanted to get in on the photo shoot~

~Beauty and order~

~Saying "goodbye" to Ms. Rogers at the end of the day.  I love how her face is shining!

~The "hallway" of the school is outside under a protective roof.  This boggles my New England mind~

~There's a jump rope in there somewhere~

~Oh, but the LIGHT is so magical~

~At an all-school picnic on Saturday evening.  It's such a wonderful group of families~

~After yummy picniking~

 

home.sick

Because my heart aches with homesickness today, I thought I'd come to this space and share some images of the home we're creating here in Durham.

The little house under the big trees...  There's that mailbox that Little C checks multiple times a day!  

Little C has been such a trooper and actually been a huge help too.

This is what my kitchen looked like this morning.  There's still lots to get organized, but we're getting there.

My beautiful bright backdoor looking out on my sunny, tree-filled backyard.  And, ah yes, the pile of boxes that is all my craft supplies and "pretty things."

Sheets on the line that starts at that backdoor.  (Thank you Dave!)

Throughout the chaos, we've tried to maintain some family sanity.

I love the color of my bedroom walls.

My new table cloth that was a house-warming gift to myself.

 

Our amazing coffee shop just 2 blocks over from our house!

Though I miss home desperately, "eye" do love Durham too.

 

An iconic Durham shot, downtown at the American Tabacco Campus.

self portraits

I read this post last night about the art of capturing a self portrait.  (Check out her blog--she's just getting started but I think it's going to be good!)  Why are WE always the ones that are the hardest to get a picture of?  I know in our family, I'm the photographer, and if you went through our photo albums iphoto files you would see an entire portrait of our life, season in and season out, and hardly know that i was part of the family.  I don't want to be invisible, not even in my own lens.  So today I picked up the camera and turned it on myself.  I took a bunch.  As in, 63 shots.  Most of them are junk.  I feel so AWKWARD looking into the lens!  But I did get a couple that I like.  And so I'm going to share them with you.

What is your favorite picture of yourself, either a self portrait or captured by someone else?

a book review for you

One of the new shapes our life is taking as Dave prepares to start grad school in a few weeks in an increase in reading and writing in these parts.  I wanted to share a review Dave wrote of a book that may be of interest to those of you who have come from a religious background.  As we live today in a world more polarized than ever by religious fundamentalism of all stripes, it becomes increasingly important to sort out fact from fiction and what the true history of religious extremeism is.  To that end, I bring you this short review by Dave; enjoy!

The Sword of the Lord:

The Roots of Fundamentalism in an American Family

by Andrew Himes

 Review by Dave

In naming his book after the fundamentalist weekly that his grandfather published in the mid-twentieth century, Andrew Himes is asking a question.  What would it take to get someone to title his life’s work “The Sword of the Lord?”   The answer is long and complicated.

The Sword of the Lord is partly memoir, partly a history of the development of southern fundamentalist culture, and partly a biography of John R. Rice.  Himes set himself a daunting task in bringing all of these threads together in almost every chapter.  Each chapter begins with a vignette from Himes’ life, following his journey away from his fundamentalist family and culture into an empty Maoism he identifies as another fundamentalism, and eventually back to a more peaceable spirituality that seems to be Christian, though a very different Christianity than the one he grew up with.

In the first half of the book, the chapters then connect to some aspect of the development of American Christian fundamentalism and his family’s journey within it.  He starts with the evolution of Scots-Irish cultural ethos in England, Scotland and Ireland, explaining the movement toward a militant protestantism forged in the heat of political and religious marginalization there.  He follows the Scots-Irish migration to the US, noting how they brought their religious fervor with them, and outlines the emergence of a religion who’s primary task was the defense of certain cultural myths and values that were under attack.

Southern Christianity and the Rice family itself was deeply impacted by the Civil War and the notion that fundamentalism could preserve the values and way of life that the military war and then the culture war threatened.  Himes follows his family‘s journey from poor, abolitionist, Appalachian subsistence farmers, to wealthy, slaveholding, hemp plantation owners in Missouri.  The family’s way of life was then totally destroyed by the war between the states.  

The narrative moves to post-Civil War north Texas explaining it’s role as a bastion of ante-bellum culture that provided the seedbed for what became American fundamentalism.  It was this preservationist myth that laid the foundation for the puritanical separatism that marked fundamentalism throughout the twentieth century.  The badge of fundamentalist credibility became the degree to which you disassociated oneself from the liberals who were attacking the bible and good old fashioned “American” morals.

It was out of this context that John R. Rice started his ministry, which is explored in depth in the second half of the book.  Himes follows his grandfather’s fascination with the revivalist preachers of the early 20th century and how he embarked on his own revivalist path.  But his career really took shape when he focused on “The Sword of the Lord” which peaked in the fifties with a readership of over 300,000.  Rice had a hand in starting the careers of Billy Graham (with whom he eventually had a very public separation) and, later, Jerry Falwell.  But by the end of the seventies, his influence had waned.

Himes’ portrayal of his grandfather is fascinating in that his tone is neither dismissive nor caustic, yet, mostly through the use of direct quotes from Rice’s vast array of publications, contains an obvious critique of the fundamentalist mindset and project, particularly it’s racism toward black Americans and its defense of segregation.  Intriguingly, Himes also argues that, despite his general promulgation of a judgmental, perhaps even violent faith, Rice had another movement in his life that bent toward grace and tolerance.  The final scene of Rice’s ministry is a sad one in which he preaches his his last sermon to the Sword of the Lord crowd.  He is old and sick.  He preaches a message about being less militant in their unwillingness to work with other kinds of Christians.  Rice’s successor at the ministry confiscates the notes Rice had intended to hand out so no one can have a record of it.

Himes’ book is a success.  The story holds together in the end.  There were times, however, when it was very difficult to read.  There are whole segments that could have been shortened, there are annoying repetitive phrases and oversimplifications.  To the extent that it is a history, there should have been more source referencing.  As someone who loves good story telling, the book’s main weakness comes as a result of its self-publication.  If Himes had had a good editor to challenge some decisions and tighten things up over-all, the book’s form could have been brought up to the level of its content.

Nevertheless, I was riveted to the pages of this book.  As a reader who grew up in evangelicalism, learning more of its fundamentalist roots and seeing how and where the fundamentalist impulse still lives on within it and where it has moved beyond it was absolutely engrossing.  I recommend it to anyone interested in the development of American culture, religious or not.