A friend sent this to me about a week ago. I finally opened it today; Happy Birthday to me! Oh my goodness, the cuteness!
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Being Blessed and Imminent Aging
I had my socks blessed clean off the past four days. If someone sees them, let me know...the nights are still pretty chilly here in Idaho :)
Mom and Dad arrived Thursday morning to help me celebrate my birthday. Just having them arrive in Boise and be here with me would have been more than enough, but in typical Mumsey and Popsey style, they spoiled me something serious over the whole visit. From
A completely unexpected perk was winning the Bloggy Giveaway at Thoughts from Miller Manor, as I mentioned yesterday. I grabbed the computer Saturday morning to show Mom something, and there was an email from Ornery's Wife, telling me I had won. What a treat! And I get to custom-select my colors for the journal she is making me!
Winning the giveaway was frosting on the cake...birthday cake, of course, since tomorrow, as Holly pointed out in a phone call Friday night, I cease to be in my mid-thirties, and I now transition to my late thirties and the associated aches and pains (a phone call that is payback for twenty-five years of me pointing out that she is ALWAYS going to be 2 months older than me, no matter HOW old we get). Mrs. Miller had no idea my birthday was coming, so having her send me something handmade is an added birthday surprise, particularly after receiving just the day before some books she very generously sent my way. I had been reading them before I opened the email to tell me more fun was coming! And how great is this--my first really significant connection with Mrs. Miller was last September, when we figured out that we have mutual friends in MAF. I was laughing as I shared with Mom the news about winning the giveaway and talking about what a wonderful gift Mrs. Miller has become, when I remembered that Mom was here in Idaho last year when Mrs. Miller asked if I was with MAF and knew her friends. Mom had asked me a few hours before that, "Is it weird when someone you don't know posts a comment on your blog?" This time, we just laughed and thanked God for the way He weaves lives together, brings people with hearts that touch ours at the right time, and for such a fun story that exists now. Thanks, Mrs. Miller, for dropping in here, and encouraging many of us by sharing.
I seriously learned something from every comment on that post 2 weeks ago, and from every phone call and email. God provides. And He is personal--I had started to completely question that in February and March and April. I know, it's obvious He's personal when you read Scripture. But we get a little twisted up sometimes, don't we?
It's why we need each other--we need help from Him and His people for untying the knots we make.
Thanks again, Mom and Dad. Love you always. Miss you already, so much. And not just because we had Starbucks every day...at least once :)
Mom and Dad arrived Thursday morning to help me celebrate my birthday. Just having them arrive in Boise and be here with me would have been more than enough, but in typical Mumsey and Popsey style, they spoiled me something serious over the whole visit. From
- new jammies picked out at the Life is Good store,
- to taking me and 5 other Idaho friends to Macaroni Grill for dinner and dessert on Thursday night,
- to goodies from the MAC cosmetics store (including a new lip gloss which is slightly berry-colored and very summery, but is named, a little disturbingly, Oversexed, so that I can now say, "I got Oversexed with my mom at the mall." Eh gads.),
- to breakfast at Cracker Barrel,
- to a pedicure (just Mom for that one ;)
- to a gorgeous dinner at Cottonwood Grille on the Boise River,
- to installing new mini-blinds with Dad in the guest room (Michael, I both benefited from and paid for the "An Open Letter to My Father" post...I am now an expert mini-blind installer...and Dad had to hear me curse a bit...)
- to Dad making my lawn so beautiful...
A completely unexpected perk was winning the Bloggy Giveaway at Thoughts from Miller Manor, as I mentioned yesterday. I grabbed the computer Saturday morning to show Mom something, and there was an email from Ornery's Wife, telling me I had won. What a treat! And I get to custom-select my colors for the journal she is making me!
Winning the giveaway was frosting on the cake...birthday cake, of course, since tomorrow, as Holly pointed out in a phone call Friday night, I cease to be in my mid-thirties, and I now transition to my late thirties and the associated aches and pains (a phone call that is payback for twenty-five years of me pointing out that she is ALWAYS going to be 2 months older than me, no matter HOW old we get). Mrs. Miller had no idea my birthday was coming, so having her send me something handmade is an added birthday surprise, particularly after receiving just the day before some books she very generously sent my way. I had been reading them before I opened the email to tell me more fun was coming! And how great is this--my first really significant connection with Mrs. Miller was last September, when we figured out that we have mutual friends in MAF. I was laughing as I shared with Mom the news about winning the giveaway and talking about what a wonderful gift Mrs. Miller has become, when I remembered that Mom was here in Idaho last year when Mrs. Miller asked if I was with MAF and knew her friends. Mom had asked me a few hours before that, "Is it weird when someone you don't know posts a comment on your blog?" This time, we just laughed and thanked God for the way He weaves lives together, brings people with hearts that touch ours at the right time, and for such a fun story that exists now. Thanks, Mrs. Miller, for dropping in here, and encouraging many of us by sharing.
I seriously learned something from every comment on that post 2 weeks ago, and from every phone call and email. God provides. And He is personal--I had started to completely question that in February and March and April. I know, it's obvious He's personal when you read Scripture. But we get a little twisted up sometimes, don't we?
It's why we need each other--we need help from Him and His people for untying the knots we make.
Thanks again, Mom and Dad. Love you always. Miss you already, so much. And not just because we had Starbucks every day...at least once :)
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Grass and Brews and Snores
My stars, you people are good to me. Thanks for all the prayer and encouragement and comments and phone calls (even Michael, big lug, who made me sob like a really loud baby). I actually hung back on posting anew for a bit because I really wanted to take the comments and phone calls to heart. And just sit and listen. And hide away from the computer for a bit. Didn't even turn it on last weekend, when I had planned to post. But Beth said that was okay...well, good, actually...when I talked to her this week, so if you have issues, you know with whom to take it up :)
Longer post coming, but short version, especially since I really heard about it from my parents this weekend, is that my heart and soul are doing better and some good light is breaking through. So, again, I thank you for your encouragement and prayers.
And then I found out this morning that I won (I prefer "was just outright blessed by") the Bloggy Giveaway over at Thoughts from Miller Manor, and I suddenly had a wonderful story to tell today about sweet God "coincidences". I even emailed my thanks to Ornery's Wife and told her I would be posting about it tonight...
But, then Mom and Dad and I went to the Ram Brewery for dinner. And I had a nice, big Total Disorder Porter after a very full day, including me banging a lovely new hole in one of my walls when I tried to get a screw anchor to lay flush for something I was hanging. Ugh.
So, Dad, after mowing and edging and weeding my lawns, rescuing my wall, and enjoying a well-deserved Big Horn Taster Curl of 7 different brews at the Ram, is zonked and snoring on the couch. Mom and I are going to hold our heads up long enough to play a hand or two of gin rummy. And then get to bed so we can get to church in the morning before they fly home. And I will post a very cool story tomorrow. In the meantime, thank you Mrs. Ornery, and gratitude for love and patience to one and all.
Longer post coming, but short version, especially since I really heard about it from my parents this weekend, is that my heart and soul are doing better and some good light is breaking through. So, again, I thank you for your encouragement and prayers.
And then I found out this morning that I won (I prefer "was just outright blessed by") the Bloggy Giveaway over at Thoughts from Miller Manor, and I suddenly had a wonderful story to tell today about sweet God "coincidences". I even emailed my thanks to Ornery's Wife and told her I would be posting about it tonight...
But, then Mom and Dad and I went to the Ram Brewery for dinner. And I had a nice, big Total Disorder Porter after a very full day, including me banging a lovely new hole in one of my walls when I tried to get a screw anchor to lay flush for something I was hanging. Ugh.
So, Dad, after mowing and edging and weeding my lawns, rescuing my wall, and enjoying a well-deserved Big Horn Taster Curl of 7 different brews at the Ram, is zonked and snoring on the couch. Mom and I are going to hold our heads up long enough to play a hand or two of gin rummy. And then get to bed so we can get to church in the morning before they fly home. And I will post a very cool story tomorrow. In the meantime, thank you Mrs. Ornery, and gratitude for love and patience to one and all.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Slussy, You Got Some 'Splainin' to Do
I am sorry I haven't asked more of you to pray for me. I just didn't know how. In the balance of all that is hard and challenging and heart-breaking in each of our lives, it seems like I have the charmed existence here in Boise. I can make all my own decisions, in my own adorable house, with a job that makes an effort to make a difference in broken places and people.
But for several weeks recently I have vacillated between anger, hopelessness, and, if I am honest, depression that makes me feel as flat as paper.
Paper has a hard time remembering to breathe.
Philip Yancey says that trying to determine what is "worthy" to be prayed about is one of the most arrogant things you can do. God says to bring it all.
Mostly, though, it's just been too hard to explain. Even as I type that, I realize I probably could have at least telegrammed a while ago, "SOS STOP KATHIE SAD STOP TOO HARD EXPLAIN STOP PLEASE PRAY STOP"
Then some other short notes.
Things are falling off my plate. I don't know how to do my job well right now. I don't know what to do with this lawn I bought, or the fence, or the deck. I am incapable of making decisions. I can't buy presents for people the way I want to 'cause I bought a house and a lawn that baffles me. I don't know what to do about missing people so much--shouldn't that have slaked by now? I have run out of nice. I am clearly working in my strength if I have run out of nice, so I should be working in Christ's strength, and I evidently suck at that, so when is He showing up here because I have a meeting/task/person/whatever that I can't face barreling toward me, and I can't go in with a big red-eyed, tear-streaked, set-jaw, furrowed-brow, squinted-eyes, hanging-cheeks face. Can I?
Well, I did, actually. I went through days of getting the tears and snarling anger under control, but, as my nice boss put it, "You clearly don't have the joy of spring in you." He was one of many, many wondering what was wrong with me.
And it was too hard to 'splain.
Okay, let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
I read The Shack. I loved the portrayal of relationship and conversations and closeness of the Trinity and Mack. I want desperately to have an intimacy with the Father, Son and Spirit that meets all the holes and inadequacies in my life, and soothes over the mistakes and the cruelties, and celebrates with me the beauty and love that also exist in this world. I was deeply moved by the story, and felt this sudden possibility of a new worldview that would be different, better, more intimate. I couldn't find any bad theology in the story, but then I was suddenly wary of taking my imagination too far. There are people I know who have loved William P. Young's presentation of God, and others I know who would flip.
So I start to investigate the idea of, "How far can we actually go in envisioning God in ways less formal than a big throne, brilliant light, and angels abounding?"
Because, a little like Liann's mention of "future tripping" over on her blog, I couldn't just dive into enjoying this new freedom of coffee and pie and gardens and a lake with God. I needed to make sure it was okay, that it was appropriate, that it was right to be able to do that. Why? Because, what would I say when someone invariably asked me down the road what I had smoked when I decided it was okay to picture myself lying on my back next to Jesus on a dock, looking up at stars, and having chats about my day with him and not conversations of great doctrinal import?
So the study began to determine how close I could actually picture myself being to God, and in what context. Suddenly, even phrases people have said to me in the past, like "Just picture yourself crawling up into Jesus' lap and resting your head against him like a child, and letting him give you perfect peace," (sounds sweet, don't it?) seemed like big no-nos if I could not find Scriptural support for it. And nowhere does the Bible tell me to climb into Jesus' lap.
That led into questioning to the nth degree every verse, chapter and book I read, and that led, I kid you not, into panic that I would not read it right, understand it right, know the real thing I was supposed to know--that I would not get it right. What if I had the wrong Bible, the wrong interpretation, the wrong understanding of context, the wrong historical perspective, the wrong theology about it, the wrong doctrine being applied...the list goes on and on.
And what if I let myself be tricked into some cozy, warm, extremely personal and intimate view of God caring about me, and found out I was making something up in my head that was a lie? I feel it even now...my jaw sets with an underbite and my lips tighten and my eyes narrow...I will NOT be tricked, I say.
Which, in the short run, leaves me one of two places: frozen or cynical. So I have been riding the waves and edges of both lately, in their extremes.
There was a turn-around this week. A nice one. But I am tired now. Let me know if you want the rest of this diatribe. What I really want to do is buy everyone I love a new "Life is Good" shirt. But I am broke--no more fun, surprise presents from the Sluss. So you get this instead, if you want it.
But for several weeks recently I have vacillated between anger, hopelessness, and, if I am honest, depression that makes me feel as flat as paper.
Paper has a hard time remembering to breathe.
Philip Yancey says that trying to determine what is "worthy" to be prayed about is one of the most arrogant things you can do. God says to bring it all.
Mostly, though, it's just been too hard to explain. Even as I type that, I realize I probably could have at least telegrammed a while ago, "SOS STOP KATHIE SAD STOP TOO HARD EXPLAIN STOP PLEASE PRAY STOP"
Then some other short notes.
Things are falling off my plate. I don't know how to do my job well right now. I don't know what to do with this lawn I bought, or the fence, or the deck. I am incapable of making decisions. I can't buy presents for people the way I want to 'cause I bought a house and a lawn that baffles me. I don't know what to do about missing people so much--shouldn't that have slaked by now? I have run out of nice. I am clearly working in my strength if I have run out of nice, so I should be working in Christ's strength, and I evidently suck at that, so when is He showing up here because I have a meeting/task/person/whatever that I can't face barreling toward me, and I can't go in with a big red-eyed, tear-streaked, set-jaw, furrowed-brow, squinted-eyes, hanging-cheeks face. Can I?
Well, I did, actually. I went through days of getting the tears and snarling anger under control, but, as my nice boss put it, "You clearly don't have the joy of spring in you." He was one of many, many wondering what was wrong with me.
And it was too hard to 'splain.
Okay, let me 'splain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
I read The Shack. I loved the portrayal of relationship and conversations and closeness of the Trinity and Mack. I want desperately to have an intimacy with the Father, Son and Spirit that meets all the holes and inadequacies in my life, and soothes over the mistakes and the cruelties, and celebrates with me the beauty and love that also exist in this world. I was deeply moved by the story, and felt this sudden possibility of a new worldview that would be different, better, more intimate. I couldn't find any bad theology in the story, but then I was suddenly wary of taking my imagination too far. There are people I know who have loved William P. Young's presentation of God, and others I know who would flip.
So I start to investigate the idea of, "How far can we actually go in envisioning God in ways less formal than a big throne, brilliant light, and angels abounding?"
Because, a little like Liann's mention of "future tripping" over on her blog, I couldn't just dive into enjoying this new freedom of coffee and pie and gardens and a lake with God. I needed to make sure it was okay, that it was appropriate, that it was right to be able to do that. Why? Because, what would I say when someone invariably asked me down the road what I had smoked when I decided it was okay to picture myself lying on my back next to Jesus on a dock, looking up at stars, and having chats about my day with him and not conversations of great doctrinal import?
So the study began to determine how close I could actually picture myself being to God, and in what context. Suddenly, even phrases people have said to me in the past, like "Just picture yourself crawling up into Jesus' lap and resting your head against him like a child, and letting him give you perfect peace," (sounds sweet, don't it?) seemed like big no-nos if I could not find Scriptural support for it. And nowhere does the Bible tell me to climb into Jesus' lap.
That led into questioning to the nth degree every verse, chapter and book I read, and that led, I kid you not, into panic that I would not read it right, understand it right, know the real thing I was supposed to know--that I would not get it right. What if I had the wrong Bible, the wrong interpretation, the wrong understanding of context, the wrong historical perspective, the wrong theology about it, the wrong doctrine being applied...the list goes on and on.
And what if I let myself be tricked into some cozy, warm, extremely personal and intimate view of God caring about me, and found out I was making something up in my head that was a lie? I feel it even now...my jaw sets with an underbite and my lips tighten and my eyes narrow...I will NOT be tricked, I say.
Which, in the short run, leaves me one of two places: frozen or cynical. So I have been riding the waves and edges of both lately, in their extremes.
There was a turn-around this week. A nice one. But I am tired now. Let me know if you want the rest of this diatribe. What I really want to do is buy everyone I love a new "Life is Good" shirt. But I am broke--no more fun, surprise presents from the Sluss. So you get this instead, if you want it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)