Notes on A Week

Sucked:
Being sick this week and being here alone. I was the kind of sick where you can't leave the house 'cause you can't be far away from a particular porcelain-kinda room in the house.

There were hardly any groceries here and what was here was healthy and full of fiber and not going to help my body be any further away from that particular room. My sister-in-law wisely convinced me not to spend $10 on a delivery service to bring me white bread and bananas and applesauce, but to call a friend to rescue me. Hallelujah for Barb and Paul who came with two bags of groceries and in matching surgical masks :)

And, yes, for those of you who I told not to tell my mom I was sick, I realize I just posted it. You know very well that I can only keep my yap shut for a bit.

Rocked:
Being here tonight and seeing a commercial for Dark Chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Being suddenly intrigued, I pondered actually getting in the car and going to get a package, but it seemed a little silly. Silly and slightly irresponsible, considering my gastric system has only begun to return to reasonable functioning less than 24 hours ago.

I pondered for about 40 minutes, then thought, "This would be the fun kinda thing to run out and do if someone were here with me." Two seconds later, I asked Jesus if he wanted to go get some Reese's. A little giggle later, I realized he thought a decaf Americano from Starbucks would also be super. Also slightly irresponsible on a newly restored tummy, I thought, but common sense is highly overrated. So off we went into the cold and dark outside.

Guess what it was doing in the cold and dark in the shine of my headlights and the glow of the streetlights? SNOWING! Itty, bitty, pretty flakes! I started to laugh and cry and thank him all at once. It was like he brought me out to see snow that he had made just for me. Fun to drive in, fun to get chocolate in, fun to fetch a cup of coffee in...just for me and him. Little snowy smooches falling from the sky.

Thanks, Jesus :)

The Post That Will Make No Sense, Maybe

But I write anyway.

So, blah, blah, blah, three posts about husband-y thoughts and desires. True when they were written. True when I was pondering writing them.

Still true in a sense. But a shifting sense.

Been trying to listen to what God has in the way of a Slusser storyline these days. I can share my heart and what I think are my wants with him, but I would rather hear the story he's writing. He's a much better author than me.

Storyline? The call to singleness. Hmmm.

I am not saying there is a call for certain. But that thought, that idea, suddenly came to mind last night and it's not one normally in my head. It's not there mostly because I have never really understood what that actually means.

There's all kinds of opinions on whether you can even have a "call" to singleness, but suddenly some pieces of thought and insight have started to come together for me lately.

I have this sense to draw apart, and inward a little, from the crowds, and that it's just me and Jesus for life. But it's not a painful sense, or a completely exclusive sense like it has been at times in the past. It's tempered with a sense that I am to be available for community and fun and friendship as the moments roll by, but that my heart (the fuzzy wuzzy, girlie part and the majority of its depth) and some of my time is to be removed from the world and kept for him. This is different than times in the past when I have wanted to withdraw but I wanted to do it completely and in self-protection. It's always been an either/or before; I could be goofy, spazzy extroverted Kathie or I could be reclusive Kathie. This new sense is an availability to still be extroverted and care for people but to live more day-to-day in a mode of being in the quiet of my soul, just me alone, just his, just available for the next ministry opportunity.

It's different and interesting.

I think my ministry role is a bit unique (not entirely, just a bit). I am a woman who leads a team of men. I have one other woman on my staff. When I function in a broader role of leadership in my ministry work, I am always working with men. There is a sweetness about being single in this scenario; the men are in a mode of protection and care; they are guardian brothers. It makes the situation work. And I like the work and God has called me to it. I like being cared for and watched over by all those brothers. For some reason I can't quite put words to, I think this would be a bit different, and just maybe not as effective, if I were married.

Speaking of work, it is calling more and more and more every day, with increasing demands and needs. It could be miserable to have that, I suppose, but if I embrace it in my singleness, it actually speaks to a huge part of my heart that is called to do something about the suffering and pain of the world and knows that the real answer to create real change is Jesus Christ. I am incredibly blessed to have what I get to do for a living feed the cries of my heart.

And my life as a single has the flexibility to be available to answer those needs in full tilt. I can stay at the office until 9:00 on a Friday night and know that my closest love, Jesus, is with me in what needs to be done. And that he's invited me to that time with him.

Finally, lately, for the first time, I have felt the freedom to actually live like a single in my house. Surprised? For years I have had in the back of my mind that I need to live gently, a little tentatively, as I go because whatever I am doing might need to be adjusted in case I wind up married one day. Now, I am suddenly free to embrace sleeping wherever I want in my queen bed, rather than sticking to one side "in case I have to share someday". I am smacking the snooze bar as often as I want to, without guilt, instead of, "Be careful, you might not always be alone and this could be annoying to someone." I feel a sudden freedom to not learn to cook "just in case I need to care for someone one day".

And, yeah, intertwined with this is that God brought it back again to just me and him. Stef moved out, so it's me and Jesus and the house and my work and my friends.

So I am exploring what I think might be a call to singleness. Hmmm. We'll see.

The very fact that I am a bit sad and disappointed about this news, that this indeed might be my life calling, indicates to me that it's not just me making it up, and that I am not just looking for a "fix" or a definitive answer to the question about whether I am to be married or single (much as it is a giant part of my nature to dislike living in the unknown). I am doing it in honesty, with my desires available for him to change and my ears available to him to listen.

But there are other unknowns God's making me more comfortable with, like my ministry role in the coming year, so I feel confident that I am growing. My role doesn't get any clearer or easier or a better match to what I think my skill set is with each passing day, but my comfort with just showing up and being available to bring what I can and see what happens next is increasing.

Okay, for fun, to end all this seriousness, ya gotta read Surviving church as a single by Jon Acuff. Laughed OUT LOUD!

Numbers 5, 13, 15-19, and 39 are among my favs, but are certainly not the only points I would have earned! Tee-hee! Still giggling...

And lest anyone think...

that I typed the previous post in some deeply submitted, quietly obedient, sweetly reflective moment, let me admit that I POUNDED the hoo-ha out of the keyboard in my frustration for about half of the thing and submitted out of exhaustion for the rest of it.

I am not always as cooperative as I want to be. But I want to be cooperative. Does that count?

I guess Romans 7 is the answer about that :) Good to know I am not the first keyboard pounder. I can't help but think Paul was pounding the papyrus when he wrote it.

I love how The Message puts it:

^17-20But I need something more! For if I know the law but still can't keep it, and if the power of sin within me keeps sabotaging my best intentions, I obviously need help! I realize that I don't have what it takes. I can will it, but I can't do it. I decide to do good, but I don't really do it; I decide not to do bad, but then I do it anyway. My decisions, such as they are, don't result in actions. Something has gone wrong deep within me and gets the better of me every time.

^21-23It happens so regularly that it's predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God's commands, but it's pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.

²⁴I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?

²⁵The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different.

Know what's even better though? I REALLY love that Paul continues in Romans 8 with this almost-too-rich-to-bear news of grace:

^1-2With the arrival of Jesus, the Messiah, that fateful dilemma is resolved. Those who enter into Christ's being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.

^3-4God went for the jugular when he sent his own Son. He didn't deal with the problem as something remote and unimportant. In his Son, Jesus, he personally took on the human condition, entered the disordered mess of struggling humanity in order to set it right once and for all. The law code, weakened as it always was by fractured human nature, could never have done that.

The law always ended up being used as a Band-Aid on sin instead of a deep healing of it. And now what the law code asked for but we couldn't deliver is accomplished as we, instead of redoubling our own efforts, simply embrace what the Spirit is doing in us.

Just makes ya take a deep breath, don't it? The truth of my identity, who I am and what I can do as Jesus Christ IN Kathie Slusser is there...His Spirit is IN me, able as I am not. That's truth.

Man, I love it.

And in all my wrestling and struggling with the tasks before me in ministry, my "fish in a cornfield" feeling as one teammate puts it, I am so grateful for what Becky put in the comments of the previous post; it deserves to be out here, just like I put it on paper in 48 point font to hang in front of my nose in my office cubicle:

"There's safety in complacency but God is calling us out of our comfort zone into a life of complete surrender to the cross. To live dangerously is not to live recklessly but righteously and it is because of God's radical grace for us that we can risk living a life of radical obedience for Him."

From Steve Camp song "Living Dangerously In the Hands of God" 1988

Someday I will be cooperative AND pretty doing it. It may not be until Heaven, I guess, but I like to think it can happen here. I look forward to that :)

All that said...

the reality of what I sense I have heard from God in the past month since that prayer was prayed and what I think it means at this time is this:

• I have a significant joy and release in being more of "me" before him.
• I have sensed that the desire for a husband is indeed mine, and not his for me, but it's not bad to have put the desire before him (a big step for me), and he'll continue to mold and shape me. He wanted me to ask, but made no specific promises about it. The biggest, best, never-failing promise is that I am his, his, his now and always, always, always.
  
• All those squishy little cuddly, autumn-enhanced feelings that I want to direct to someone, that desire that I always have to dote on some one special person, are to be taken to Jesus and I will learn to dote on him. He'll show me how he likes to be cherished, because he knows I really do long to cherish well, even when I am not good at it and I fall short.
  
• I long to embrace well what he has put before me, and what's actually before me is ministry work, my job. The coming year, if looked at from a purely human perspective, frightens the daylights out of me and frightens ulcers into my stomach lining. Not only is it a huge undertaking as LT continues to grow, but I am so UNBELIEVABLY out of my element and skill set, out of my comfort zone, that I want to faint dead away after crying for a few hours. (And if anyone tries to tell me that I am smarter or more talented than I think I am, I will scream; I am NOT making this up; I am stepping into things I have no idea how to DO.) I am clinging, clinging, clinging to Luke 9:10-17, and to the five loaves and two fish I currently have at my disposal. It's not nearly enough to feed the coming year, but I will pray to do what Jesus did: give thanks to God for what I have in my hands and start breaking the pieces up and handing them out. I pray that this time next year, I, we, my whole ministry team, will look around and see 12 baskets full of extra pieces of nourishment and provision and extravagance lying about us, evidence of his unmerited favor and grace and mercy.
• I am reminded that everyone--everyone--has an unfulfilled ache, a heartache that will take them back again and again to his throne, just where we most need to be. If it turns out that mine is not having a husband to walk the journey with, then so be it. At least I know what it is, and I know how to answer the questions about it, and I know where to run to get to God's deep, abiding oceans of love. I think the time in CA just really felt like this focused time of having to think about it and look at it because it's the one common question among everyone I meet with, especially new folks. And I confess that I am kind of like the fat kid who jokes about his own weight so it won't hurt when others tease him, so sometimes I bring it up first. A good pal on my team likened having such a zeroed-in, zoned-in time of having to talk about it to a guy he used to work with who was 6' 4". He said that every customer who came into the garden department where they worked together said something like, "Wow, how's the weather up there?" or some other remark about his height. Nicholas said to me, "You just got four weeks of 'How's the weather up there?' over and over again, a big concentrated dose." It's time to let that focus dissipate, and to embrace what is actually before me, even while God is aware of my request. Praises to him who is actually also aware of my real needs, and he will meet those in his perfect sovereignty.
  

And, yes, I am crying with my nose running at my desk, blowing my dripping snout like a bazooka in the office at 6:30 at night, thanking God there are so very few people lingering about to hear me. Sometimes truth is tough, but I don't want to live in anything else. I want to go where he goes and live as he asks, even when I also want to run the other way. I love you, Jesus.

The Rest O' The Story

Errghh. I haven't finished the story not because I don't have anything to say (although it has felt a bit like that at moments, after the initial flush of putting this out there; "Shut up!" my ego yells...), but rather, there feels like too much to say now. I am all over the place.

Anyway, I know I left a 16-year cliffhanger out there, so let me resolve that and give God thanks for bringing to light an agreement I made in 1993.

Short version: I had a friend who was miserable that she was not married. She was furious with God that she was still single in her early 30s. She was angry enough that it scared me. One day, watching her in a fit of fury at the Lord, I told God I didn't ever want to be that angry with him. I told him I wanted to be content in whatever life circumstances he brought me. In fact, I resolved to be content in whatever he brought me. Sounds holy enough, eh?

After having some experiences over the past couple of years with opening more of my heart to God, learning to be more honest before him, and having him begin to draw me into coming to him as I am rather than how I think I am to be, it dawned on me recently that the whole "resolved to be content in all things" efforts had become just that: my efforts. I had probably been doing it in my own strength for a long time. Not good.

Somewhere around Labor Day I started to wonder if that commitment I made was actually an agreement with the Enemy. I wondered if there were things I was not allowing to linger in my mind or heart because my commitment had, frankly, turned into a point of pride for me. I am content, I have been content, I will be content, no matter what. No wrestling with anything that comes along, because I don't need to; I am content!

I applied it very directly to the whole singleness/marriage thing, which was really convenient since it's the most repetitive question in my life from people I interact with. I must either be something amazing or people are just in the habit of asking the question(s) all the time: are you seeing someone, are you okay alone, how is it that someone hasn't just scooped you up yet?

Well, since I had decided long ago that I would be [make myself] content with whatever came, my answer for years has been, "If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. Whatever God wants is fine." As I have probably mentioned somewhere in some previous post, I had kind of embraced an automaton theology, where I thought the most obedient thing I could do was wait for the next set of directives from God; I need not, nor should not, have an opinion or preference or dream or desire. I was looking to just be obedient, which really meant perfect, not messing up anything he wanted with anything from me.

If you read this silly web thing, you know that the past several years, starting with my move to Idaho and including living alone and being away from my family and courtship with a Ugandan pastor and deeply desiring to have God meet needs in my heart that I couldn't keep quiet anymore has meant that I have had to allow God to change my theology and change my vision of who he is. He doesn't want an automaton; he wants relationship. He wants to know my heart and to let him shape it and to have every moment of me, not just the pretty Sunday school ones. Seems pretty elementary, I know, but there I am.

Thus, many things, including what I feel has been the Spirit lately asking, pressing, me to ask for what I want, led to thinking about my "commitment" to contentment when my pal asked if he could pray for me for a husband, when a conversation about love and marriage arose during a plane ride on Labor Day weekend, and when God led the talk that direction when I was visiting with a very special, dear friend just a couple of days after getting to California last month. And that pal, praise God, is not one to leave well enough alone :)

We started to pray about asking for things, about my commitment and whether it was really an agreement somehow with the Enemy, about my pride in having "stuck to it" when other people seemed needy; I was fine because I decided to be fine, and I had chosen contentment. I have survived and done well, and I have not been one of those pleading for something God might not bring or want me to have or might not think was best for me. I could always be right, because I couldn't be wrong if I didn't ask for something out loud and then it didn't come.

I still have this little vestige (okay, let's not discuss the exact size of it) of pride that doesn't want to need anything. I am not like the other girls; I am better. I can do it on my own, without putting life on hold, without being all clambering for a man, without looking about for something I don't already have.

There, I said it. Ugly, ain't it?

Liann likes to try to invite me to come down from my snooty perch and hang out with the rest of humanity sometimes :)

Errghh...I have a problem with vulnerability before God. I can't believe that for all the too-much-information spewing I seem to be perfectly capable of doing to strangers, I am still struggling with complete vulnerability before him. And being vulnerable means asking for things I believe I want but might not get.

Things I believe he has begun to stir my heart to long for, to desire, but still aren't a promise of what's to come. And since one of those things has been a desire for a husband, and I know that I can't do marriage perfectly (see, I am not a total snoot; I do know that I am loaded with flaws), I haven't known what to do with this "thing" of the Spirit seeming to press me to just ask like I mean it.

So, my pal Cindy and I prayed. And in the midst of it, Cindy said, "You know, God brings about a holy discontent at times, to move us to new things, to draw us in different directions, to lead us to desire the things of his heart that we have not encountered yet. Where has room been in your heart for his holy discontent?"

My sobbing answer: "Nowhere, because I vowed to never be discontent. I left no room for him to bring me new things, to tell me new stories, to make my heart listen to his heart. I made a commitment not to let anything change me!"

Sob, sob, sob.

So we prayed for release from that, for that vow to be undone, for forgiveness, for restoration by our perfect Jesus.

And I said it, and I say it: I would like to be married. I would like to share the journey. I would like someone to snuggle. I would like a Godly man with a sense of humor who can laugh at me and laugh at himself. I would like someone to walk with through the hard and the joyful and the ugly and the thrilling and the beautiful and the broken.

And, honestly, I would like someone who thinks I hung the moon, even though they know better. And I'll return the favor :)

When I told some old friends that I was horrified at the idea of "gifting someone with all of my miserable shortcomings", the husband, despite having a mouth full of food, could not contain himself. He cried, "No, no, no...that's the whole point! You bring that and he brings that, and it's all out there, and you love one another in spite of it all and work through it together. That's the whole point."

And more than ever, truly, I will be okay if it happens, and I will be okay if it doesn't. God has been so amazingly present and fulfilling the past several years in my life, I know he is enough.

But since I can ask, I'd like a friend who's more than a friend for the rest of the road :)

And the men are on the job...

Hi. No long apologies for not writing. I am supposed to be. I am not. It's a God thing that I am supposed to, I believe. Please pray for me to take the time to write.

But, now I know who is doing their job. The men are stepping into the gap. It's finally happened.

Okay, at least one dude has stepped in.

Doing what, you ask? Praying for a husband for me. I kid you not.

For several years, I have had women around the globe at work on this. Romania, Russia, the Philippines, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Lebanon, Uganda, Jordan, you name it. Even Idaho :)

Last week, a good friend and colleague quietly pulled me aside and said that the Lord had impressed upon him that he was to pray for a husband for me. He was pretty surprised, so he asked the Lord, "Should I ask her if she wants me to pray for that?" Yes, indeed, God told him to ask me about it.

I told him that I wasn't that surprised. I have had a sense lately that God has been waiting for me to say out loud that I would like a husband...and to say it calmly and trustingly and honestly. In the moments that I can eek it out, it's either like a grudgingly capitulated "Yes, fine." or a giggly, "Ok, hee hee, fine."

And why can I seem to only capitulate or eek? Well, turns out there's a story there. God has done an amazing work in my heart over the last two, almost three, years to draw my heart closer to his in honesty and intimacy. Time to admit that I am not at my best on my own, and to admit that I would like to share the journey with someone.

But there was still something in the way, something that happened 16 years ago. This past Monday, God brought it to light...

Chickens and Chickpeas

Markers in the day that eventually said, "GO HOME! NOW!"

• I squat down this morning in front of the little fridge in our department at work to put in my leftover sushi: *RIP* goes the seam in my jeans along my inner right thigh. Long rip. Mom told me to buy new jeans like seven months ago. Yeah. Whatever.
• I borrow safety pins from a pal on the other side of the building and nearly mangle myself in the bathroom trying to shove pins through a seam and some shredded fabric.
• The fix is better than nothing, especially after I trim away all the little straggly fabric shreds so it doesn't look like I am walking about with a Persian cat clinging to my inner thigh. And I know what jeans I want, and they cannot be purchased anywhere near the office, so THAT'S why I didn't go buy new ones, for those of you who are asking.
• Day mostly goes fine, though I can't recall if during an hour-long presentation I made if I stood in a ladylike manner or not to try to hide my safety pin surgery, especially since one of the pins had to go on the outside of the pants. Probably not: I usually stand like a bear wrestler, especially when I start to wax rhapsodic for a new, captive audience about the work we do. Ces't la vie.
• I leave the office at the end of day, going back and forth in my mind about what to do about dinner. Obviously, no Stef at home to cook tonight. I decide to run into Fred Meyer and grab some hummus and one of those handy, cooked whole chickens. I tour part of the store, grab cherries and a couple pink grapefruit, one red garnet yam, a container of hummus, and toward the chickens I head, then I'll be right next to the registers and away I can go.
• There are three chickies left. I have my hand-carry basket in one hand and reach for the chicken with the other. Just as I go to set it in the basket, the plastic dome pops off, the plastic base bends and caves, and there is a simultaneous drop of chicken and plastic into the basket and a shower all over my feet and the floor...grease from the container gushing over the basket and through it.
• I stand stupefied for a moment, wondering what wet thing was in my basket before it dawns on me that I just had a chicken grease hosing. I try to at least rectify the tilting, dripping chicken in my basket, and I get the experience of trying to grab a greased baby from its crib...no doing. I am looking about for bags, towels, something to do something, I don't even know what. I finally set the basket on the floor by the chicken case and walk to the self-checkout and look pleadingly at an employee who is approaching. "I need help, please," I tell her. She follows me and I show her my giant grease slick and explain myself. She says it's no problem and heads off to find someone, but is intercepted by that terrible alarm that happens when you try to leave the self-checkout area and you have something that has a security alarm in it, so she is waylaid rescuing some man who probably was not trying to shoplift, but gets the same alarm as the bad guys do. Poor man.
• I stand there for several more minutes, grateful that you can't see the grease spill like you could if it were chocolate milk or orange juice, but still aware that NO ONE hovers around the chicken case like this. Especially no one who keeps looking at the grease splatters on her tennis shoes while an escaped, dripping chicken lies atop grapefruit and hummus in her little basket. Trying to look slightly less tacky, I figure I should at least pick up the basket off the floor. I, that's right, forget the challenge of my pants from hours before, and I again assume the squat position in order to pick up the basket. What do I hear again, raging against the safety pins? *RIP*. I leap up in a panic, as though the safety pins have already blown their "safety" promise and suddenly become not-so-safe.
  
• Nice lady finally comes back and sets up a yellow "stay away" triangle on the floor, and she looks in my basket and says, "Okay, that's the chicken that fell on the floor?" as she is reaching for it. I tell her it only fell in my basket, and we have a quick exchange, with me saying I can still take it, and I feel badly, and she points out, no, no, it's fine, they'll take it. She goes to take it out of the basket and replicates my greased baby experience, with a few "whoa" moments of her own, but eventually decides she will win, grabs hard and takes it away. In the interim I smile at a nice lady with a cart and a small child in the front; she gives me the "been there, done that" chuckle. Employee lady returns quickly and I ask if there are paper towels anywhere, because my hands are an oil slick by now; she sends me to her counter. I come back, and she has given me a new basket and placed the fairly ungreased cherries and grapefruit in it, but has the dripping, lemon-pepper-grease-coated yam and hummus in the other hand. "You don't want these, do you?" I again say I am willing to pay for them, but she says, no, go get new ones. She is nice. I consider kissing her and decide I have already shot my weirdo points for the day. Instead I tell her I am headed to the deli to buy just one piece of chicken; it seems less dangerous. She laughs at me.
  
• I try to gather myself, and I go get one chicken breast, more hummus from the first spot I got it, and I check out some rice crackers and some organic cereal. I wind up near the cold case with a bunch of organic stuff in it. I look at some hummus they have in there and note the just over 2x price difference, and I also check out some soy cream cheese and sour cream, and decide not today. I figure my heart has calmed enough and they are far enough along in the clean up that I can just head out. So to the check stand I go.
• The drive home is safe (I decide to skip the Starbucks stop I was planning for some herbal tea--I just need to be DONE and get my tennis shoes in the washing machine and my pants into the trash) and I am already pondering posting about my clumsiness. I get home, get everything from work and the store into the house, and start to unload the two bags from Freddy's. And what's in there? BOTH freaking containers of hummus! The regular AND the organic! What the...? Clearly, I need to stay in for the rest of the evening. I am a danger to myself and others and chickens and chickpeas everywhere!