Sticks and Stones

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

This past Sunday I left church feeling out of sync.  We had a guest preacher and while I appreciated the basic admonition that was communicated I found myself disagreeing with the supporting declarations.  I believe the sermon’s objective was sincere:  to illustrate the disparity between the value we place on God’s Word vs. all other forms of media input (cell phones, email, Internet, books, TV, film, magazines, blogs, etc.).  However, several times during the sermon some proclamations were made that rendered me conflicted and unsettled.

One such declaration was that words do not have the power to bring life, unless it is the word of God (aka scripture).  Even the word of God disproves that thesis.  Proverbs 18:21 says, “The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit.” (NIV)

I don’t think that acknowledging the power in words diminishes the supremacy of God’s word.  His word spoke worlds into being.  But I don’t want to ever underestimate the weight of every other word.  It would be irresponsible… dangerous… toxic even… to deny its influence on the world and people around me.

I leave you with some of the best quotes I’ve found on the power of words:

“Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.”

― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

“Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.”

― Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

“There is something about words. In expert hands, manipulated deftly, they take you prisoner. Wind themselves around your limbs like spider silk, and when you are so enthralled you cannot move, they pierce your skin, enter your blood, numb your thoughts. Inside you they work their magic.”

― Diane Setterfield, The Thirteenth Tale

“The words of the wicked lie in wait for blood but the mouth of the upright delivers them.”

-Proverbs 12:6 (ESV)

“Words... They're innocent, neutral, precise, standing for this, describing that, meaning the other, so if you look after them you can build bridges across incomprehension and chaos. But when they get their corners knocked off, they're no good any more... I don't think writers are sacred, but words are. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones in the right order, you can nudge the world a little or make a poem which children will speak for you when you're dead.”

― Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing: A Play

Jesus said, “But I tell you that men will have to give account on the day of judgment for every careless word they have spoken. For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned”

-Matthew 12:36–37 (ESV)

“He was intrigued by the power of words, not the literary words that filled the books in the library but the sharp, staccato words that went into the writing of news stories. Words that went for the jugular. Active verbs that danced and raced on the page.”

― Robert Cormier, I Am the Cheese

“A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.”

― Madeleine L'Engle

“For some of us, books are as important as almost anything else on earth. What a miracle it is that out of these small, flat, rigid squares of paper unfolds world after world after world, worlds that sing to you, comfort and quiet or excite you. Books help us understand who we are and how we are to behave. They show us what community and friendship mean; they show us how to live and die.”

― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

“Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It's like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can't stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.”

― Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

New Venture-Homeschooling!

Yes, it's true. I will be entering into the elite club of those parents who homeschool. Although technically, I suppose I'm cheating a little. The kids (Emma and Isaac) are going to be attending a virtual academy so I'm not doing the traditional homeschool route. Still I'm a little trepidatious going into it.

Which brings me to blogging... it's about time I started up again! Expect to hear my worries, woes and wisdom from homeschooling my two middle children, books I've read, books I want to read, books I want to write, theatre, music and life in general at the Baldwin Bungalow.

Blog Block...

I am suffering from Blog Block. Life is full. There is much to discuss. There are pictures to share, thoughts to reveal, insecurities to exorcise, opinions to spew, rants to run-on. But.

But I can't find the "whatever" to just do it. Put it all into words. Share it. Some of it feels too private. Some too insignificant. I believe it might be moving out of Blogger Block and into Blogger Insecurity. Who knows?

What keeps you from blogging? I mean, besides just "busy-ness". And when you run up against it what do you do to move past it or through it? Please. Share.

Empower Some Girls in Africa

Buy my friend, Jen's, zine today! I did.

There are limited quantities!

Read about it and buy here: http://tinyurl.com/6gk4ag

I am so proud of her and her dream!

* Illustration used with permission

My girl (s)...

I found a graded paper that Emma left out on the table this morning. On the bottom was a "Writing Activity" instructing the student to write a paragraph about what you can do to help the planet and to use at least three spelling words. Here is Emma's paragraph (I think she's found her voice, don't you?):

Do you live in a city or what? Well, city or not, we have to make a giant change. Stop smoking! Find something else addicting like chocolate! You should see the changes we can make.

Chocolate! I love it!

I also just need to share how grown up my baby is getting...we took these this morning. And, NO, I don't let her wear lip gloss (yet). She was playing in my bathroom while I was getting ready... but you have to admit, pink is her color!

Mini-Roar

Today I had an expected surprise. A few months ago I took the advice of Writer Mama (from her wonderful book, Writer Mama: How To Raise A Writing Career Alongside Your Kids) and started looking at writing some "filler" pieces and submitting them. Well, being the busy mom that I am, I didn't get very far but I did submit one little blurb to Today's Christian (a publication by Christianity Today). It was a comic piece for their Kids in the Kingdom column. I e-mailed my submission and promptly forgot all about it. (I guess I didn't follow Christina's advice on tracking submissions very well!)

Anyway, today I got an envelope in the mail. Inside were two copies of the January/February 2008 issue of Today's Christian with a notecard saying, "Thank you for your contribution. See page 7". So, I did and there was my little anecdote! But it wasn't over yet...I looked inside the envelope and there was a $35 check! My first writing paycheck!!! Whoo-hoo!

Does that make me an official Writer Mama?

Quoted!

I answered a call from a fellow Writer Mama for a piece she was writing for Washington Parent. Check it out!
http://www.washingtonparent.com/articles/0710/healthy.html

Someone you need to get to know...

...my 13 year old. I've talked about my (teenage!) son before. (That's him on the far right in the "Vote For Pedro" shirt, along with his friends, Holden and Sean.) He's pretty amazing if I do say so myself. Yes, there's the sighs, the rolling of the eyes, the things one would expect from a teenager but there's also something different. I'd like you to experience what I mean for yourself. I am reposting (with his permission) a blog entry that he wrote last night about his experience last weekend at Fall Forward, a retreat our church has for 8th graders to equip them for leadership. As a parent, I was floored...as a (sometimes) writer, I was drawn in...as a Christ follower, I was moved.

Fall Forward: The Retreat that Changed My Life Forever
Current mood: reflective
Category: reflective Religion and Philosophy


Well...Fall Forward. What an experience. It all started Friday: the 14th, at River Valley Church. Right across from Penn. A bunch of eighth graders packed their things into a trailer and got in two separate vans to head to the retreat!

Before I go any further, let me explain what Fall Forward is. It is a retreat for 8th graders. It was for them to discover who they are in Christ and learn to become leaders among the Jr. High.

So, when we arrived at the lakehouse (the one that belongs to the Ryans), we all unpacked our things and the guys went downstairs, while the girls went upstairs. (The guys weren't allowed in the upper room, and the girls weren't allowed downstairs, while the main floor was "neutral". A few girls did not obey this rule. But all the boys did. haha.)

Anyway...the rest of the night was spent playing outside and watching football (a little bit). We swam in the lake for a while, and I realized after getting out that I had not packed a towel. After funtime was over, it was time for our group meeting, which was basically the only religious thing we did while at the lakehouse. That night's lesson: Giving what you have to God's will, and to others who need it most. The lesson was pretty solemn. Two girls began crying halfway through because guilt was dawning on them. Yeah, the lesson my uncle (the pastor for Jr. High) had prepared was that powerful. As we closed our eyes, and my uncle led us in personal prayer, a lady came in (unbeknownst to us) wearing mime paint and hobo clothes and carrying a bag containing bread, a candle, a little grape juice, and matches to light the candle with. As my uncle slowly asked us to open our eyes...my friends and I jumped back and began laughing. Even through our laughter though, the mime lady kept a straight face and performed her pantomime skit. The hobo-lady put down the bag slowly, and lit the candle. Even through my friends' and my constant snickering, something was itching at the back of my conscience. The lady took out her tiny bits of bread she had to eat, mimed a prayer over it, and brought it to her mouth. But she stopped before she took a bite and looked around, gazing at each of us in turn. I couldn't help but joke around, even with my uneasy feeling. But my amusement towards the skit quickly faded away as she turned to each one of us, again in turn, and gave us each a piece of bread. She smiled kindly at us as she did this, and it made me feel sorta guilty for goofing off, so i stopped. Next, the lady brought out the grape juice, mimed a prayer over it, and stopped before she took a sip. She again turned her head to look at each of us, and let us each dip our bread in the bowl of grape juice. like a mini-communion. But communion was not where this skit was going. The lady again sat up and prayed, right there in the middle of our group circle, and then slowly came up to each and everyone of us. She began wiping taking facepaint from her own face, and smearing a little bit on each of us. Before turning to the next person, she would pat us each one the back and give us each a gentle smile.

It was when she did this that I realized what was going. It dawned on me what this lesson was really about. And as my uncle had us bow our heads, he explained to us what it was: To give everything you may have to others, so that they may see God and so His will be carried out. This hit tremendously close to home for me. Since I found out I will move, I have been saying things like, "My church in San Diego doesn't have a youth group!" or "It can never teach me what I have learned here at River Valley!" and stuff like that. Yet, that night, I realized that that was the reason I had to move. The reason I was called to move. I had been moved to Indiana in the first place to meet all my great friends, and get to know God to an even deeper level than I couldn't have possibly imagined. And now, I was being drawn to San Diego to use that to bring others to Him. Even if it meant leaving everything behind. And that was what "Fall Forward" meant; at a spiritual level. It was not just learning to move forward at the beginning of Fall. But it literally meant what it says: "Fall Forward, and God will catch you". Pretty much. That was what was taught the next day.

The next day, we went to a Bible camp further into Michigan. There, we played games. Games that challenged our thinking skills, motor skills, and were just plain fun. But by the end of almost each game, each and every one of us in my group found a spiritual or deeper meaning into these games. And after lunch, they took us to the very thing my Uncle Paul had warned us about. The thing would challenge the very core of our bravery. The thing that may push us farther than we ever thought. The High Ropes Course. Basically, we were harnessed to a steel wire above us, a good distance above the ground, with a bunch of obstacles we were to traverse. The very first part, and the part that was the most nerve-wracking was climbing up a ladder, with your harnessed attached to a knot that on each step you had to move above your head, and then climbing up a pole with a few metal bars for steps. I made it up there. Then I looked down. It had seemed a little lower from the ground. It had seemed easier on the ground, too. I went to the first obstacle. I couldn't do it. I just stood there, at the first step of the first obstacle (we had a few paths to choose from), and I just couldn't do it. For some reason, I could not trust the harness to hold (although it was ensured to be perfectly safe). I ended up zip-lining down to the ground, having absolutely no self-respect for myself in me. I walked back towards the group of people who had had their turn before me, hoping they would not ask me the question I did not want to be asked "Why'd You stop?" Of course, many people asked me anyways. I was on the verge of tears. Yes, I was that ashamed of myself. But I held them in.

When the group was finished, they had a discussion of the spiritual meaning behind all this. And yes, this where they brought in the "Fall Forward" concept. They were talking about how the harness was like God. And how trusting in the harness to keep you safe was like trusting God. Being able to "Fall Forward" and he will catch you. Of course, my case was different than everyone else's. I hadn't been able to do it. And there was a reason for that...which i just realized today. (Two days after that Saturday). Being not able to trust in the harness perfectly portrayed how I did not trust in God. It showed me exactly how I had been in a direct application to the situation. The reason I had no faith to trust the harness, was to show me that I had had no faith to trust in God.

Later that day, we got to learn about spiritual gifts. Although I had already read about these before, my Uncle handed out a test, after the lesson. It showed us supposedly which gift we most likely had. My highest scores: Teaching and knowledge. Of course, I expected this. Not because I was full of myself, but because I, for the past year or so, had been reading the Bible for fun, taking deep and richer meaning in what I read. I had gotten involved in reading about apologetics, which is the process of proving through logical, scientific, and any other means, that the Bible is not false...or even to the extent that it is definitely true(once you prove to them it is not false), to non-believers. I had gotten into scientific analysis of the Bible. Risky territory, for it is easy to get too entangled in mixing up God's Word, but he kept me very alert and cautious through it. Anyways...so, i expected to get knowledge at least. But teaching was one of the things I didn't really expect. Sometimes, when I speak on stuff like that, it is hard for me to choose the right words to say to people. Yet, it came through as my other highest score (equal to knowledge). And again, it all connected to moving. It showed me that I have a gift. And that I needed to use that gift for the Lord. I needed to share the gift with others, like the mime-hobo-lady had done with her things. I needed to let go of the harness and use my gift wherever even if it is dangerous for me, because, like the harness, God will catch me when I choose to "Fall Forward". Everything tied in. Everything made sense.

Although the very next day was uneventful (spending it mostly sleeping and watching TV), It gave me time to think over the significance of the weekend. Fall Forward had been exactly what I needed to get through my pain and sadness at the exact right time I needed it. I got encouraged to move, so I did not have to live in constant fear when I moved To San Diego until I learned all this by myself. He allowed me to go on this retreat so that I may not be afraid to do all that I have written about today.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night...

and so begins "A Wrinkle in Time" by my favorite author of all time, Madeleine L'Engle.

My soul is bruised and sad today. I found out this morning that Madeleine L'Engle has passed into the "Ring of Endless Light" and somehow I feel she is regaling our Savior with her stories as she walks with him today.

Meet My Man...

Just want to point you toward my husband's brand new blog...we set it up last night. He's always enjoyed writing and journaling and now you get to hear his voice through blog. Tentatively titled "Narrating the Shadowlands", you will find journal entries, essays, family updates and more.

I Wish I Were...

When I read a blog post like this, I wish I were a better parent. This father imbued this public tragedy with the gospel and surely shaped the image his young daughter would hold of God and His sovereignty.

they all fall down

In the blackness of the night I finally regain my footing. One step meets dark pavement and the second follows suit. The warm wind wraps around me shrouding the dust of confusion in my deadened mind. Embers glow at my fingertips and sweet spices kiss my tongue as the ghost enters my lungs and fills the emptiness. Ashes, ashes…they all fall down.

Brain Clouds and Inspiration

Lately this blog has been relegated to the role of updating everyone on the activities of my cute children and I've been completely lax in my writing. This is partially due to the fact that last week was spent with EIGHT children in our home (we had my nieces and nephew for the week) and somewhat due to the lingering brain cloud that has been plaguing me for the past couple weeks. Well, thanks to my wonderful husband, I might be able to emerge from my brain cloud now. For Mother's Day I received "Writer Mama: How to Raise Your Writing Career Alongside Your Kids"! I can't wait to dig in. Maybe, just maybe, you may get some slightly more interesting reading!

Why I love my teenage son...

I promised this post a little while back... I now have an additional "proud parent moment" to add... the photo of Landen was posted on his myspace account yesterday (yes, I allow my son to participate on myspace...I have an account as well and I monitor his) along with a bulletin requesting prayer and a moment of silence for those involved in the Virginia Tech tragedy.

But back to the original reason for this post:
Landen wrote a piece for his non-fiction class (he just turned 13 and is in 7th grade). Even with the rolling of the eyes, the sighs when asked to do any chore, the arguments over computer time... I am happy to report that my son gets it. He gets the gospel. Take a look:

Big Hope, Small Packages
I closed my eyes, trying desperately to get some sleep. The entire plane was silent. Shades were pulled over the windows. My parents told me, "The stewardesses do that to 'create the illusion' that it is night." You see, the plane was chasing daylight. Everything behind us on this 12 hour flight was experiencing dusk, but the plane was still seeing day. So, I order for people to fall asleep, they made the plane darker on from the inside.

After what felt like a lifetime, the two-story plane landed in Tokyo, Japan. From there, we got on yet another four hour flight. Our destination: Beijing, China; my first mission trip. We got our luggage and met up with Rob Foster, the missionary supported by our church. He introduced himself and we all got on a bus, headed for the hotel.

I sat with my parents instead of with my friends. On the Tokyo-to-Beijing flight, I had gotten 45 minutes of sleep. That's it. For the entire trip there. I was in no condition to socialize.

As we drove by them, my parents pointed out various points of interest: Starbucks (boy, were my parents excited), McDonalds (the golden arch had a weird, motorcycle-like symbol around it), and more. And, although I didn't see it until much later, the streets were littered with many homeless parents, clutching their dirty children tightly in their arms.

Finally, we got to the hotel. Mr. Foster told everyone to keep their eyes peeled for cockroaches. As soon as he left, I went to bed and fell asleep.

The next day, according to my mom, started with a "devotions and silent time". I do not remember this, so it is safe to assume that I was asleep.

Afterwards, my parents woke me up and everyone ate a delicious assortment of Chinese pastries. Along with this, we got an awesome brand of coffee. This kind of coffee was sweeter than any other I had ever tasted.

After the satisfying breakfast, we all got back on the bus. As Mr. Foster explained what the day's activities were, I was off in my own world. I was entranced by the busy streets of Beijing. A lot of people were riding bikes. But the think I found myself staring at the most was the homeless people. Clothed in dirty, torn, raggedy clothes, they sat against walls, still holding on to their children. Never letting go.

The rest of the day went on. Poor, dirty people crowded us, the "rich Americans", trying to sell us various items. "Booya Seasea," we told them, using the only Mandarin phrase we knew. The vendors annoyed me, but I couldn't help but pity them. They seemed desperate. We stopped at the so-called "Temple of Heaven". It pained me, personally, to see so many people, sending their prayers to lifeless statues.

The next day, after a feet-killing trek along the Great Wall, we got back on the bus for our next activity. A family in our group was adopting their fourth kid from China. Their sixth kid, total! They brought everyone to the foster home they were adopting from. The moment we walked in, we saw the hallway flooded with toddlers. Being the "toddler-magnet" I was, I instantly started to play with them.

While my mom was holding and playing "peek-a-boo" with an infant, my friend and I went up to this toddler girl, temporarily named Cindy, who was alone in a small ball pit. She enjoyed throwing balls at us and laughing at our "pain" when we flinched.

Our group stayed at the foster home for a while. All the adorable toddlers we saw put a smile on our faces. Yet, something was bothering me. Beneath all the happiness, I had a knot in my stomach. Like when you are nervous when you know something is wrong.

We left the orphanage. On the bus ride to the hotel, I realized what was nagging at the back of my conscience. None of these kids had a family. Yeah, I knew that already, but it hit closer to home this time. All these cute, lovable toddlers had no one to care for them but a nanny or nurse.

You see, China had a law that made it mandatory to only have one child. No more. If one, who lived in China, happened to have a second, or more, child, they would dump it off on the streets. Here, if he or she was lucky, they would be found by an orphanage or foster home.

The rest of the trip was life-altering. But nothing could be more humbling than finding yourself in a country, altered by poverty, seeking help from statues, and home to over 2 million orphans. Being in a room and thinking, "Wow, none of these kids have families.." Then, remembering that the orphans you were looking at were only a small number of the total. Nothing else makes you feel so small, yet so loved.

This trip reminded me to wake up and smell the coffee. It inspired me to get more involved in church. It let me know that I am truly blessed. And that I have the blessing so others may have it as well.

Return To Me

Our church just began a series of sermons today on the letters to the seven churches in the book of Revelation. The focus was on the church in Ephesus and "returning to our first love"... in particular, how we spend so much time trying to look like "good Christians" that we neglect our relationship with the One it is all about. One of the "responses" that our Pastor encouraged us to pursue was to take some time in the next 24 hours to reflect on when our faith first came alive and write about it.

As I was thinking through this exercise, I had some trouble identifying a specific time period or age when this occurred for me. Being brought up in a Christian home and identifying myself as a Christian for my entire life has put me in the position (sometimes awkward in church circles) of not having a "conversion date" (or "spiritual birthday" as those who trumpet their own like to call it). My relationship with Christ has all been a journey and not always linear.

I did find, however, that even though I couldn't point to a conversion experience, I could clearly recall moments where grace sneaked into my life and invaded my space...changing forever the way I viewed God, myself and the world around me and marking that instant of time as life altering kairos.

I experienced one of these moments in November of 1997.

The months, even years, leading up to this particular winter were some of the most difficult of my life and definitely the most difficult in our marriage. We had been dealing with everything from secondary infertility to finishing a master's degree, raising the most precocious toddler on earth and watching our marriage fall apart. Both wounded, angry and tired, we had committed to being obedient...despite how we "felt"...and staying in and working on our marriage. During the worst months of our marriage and the first couple months of our decision to love each other "no matter what", we had put our plans for expanding our family on hold... no fertility treatments, no talks about adoption... not right now.

On November 10th, I received a call from an adoption facilitator, Sarah, who we had met through a crisis pregnancy center. She informed me that she was in contact with several birth moms who were looking specifically for Christian families for their babies. Sarah liked to give the birth moms information on several families so that they could make the best decision about placing their children. At this particular time, she felt she didn't have enough families that fit these requests to give the girls real options. In addition, one had already given birth and a couple others were due any day. Time was of the essence. She asked me if Larry and I would consider submitting a "birth mother" letter for her to offer along with the few other families she currently had on file.

Larry and I were overwhelmed with every emotion imaginable...excitement, fear, apprehension. We knew we were not even out of the pit our marriage had fallen into...would this even be wise? We prayed about it together that night and talked to our parents and some trusted people at church. Then, believing that God had His hand on this and had confirmed it, we wrote the letter and on the 12th I drove it up to Sarah's office.

On Friday, the 14th, I received a page from Sarah (the days of the ever present cell phone had not yet arrived). I returned her call and she reminded me to make copies of the letter so that she could present them to the birth mothers. I assured her that I would get them done and deliver them later that day. Not half an hour later, my phone rang. I answered and Sarah said, "You know, Melissa, don't bother making copies of that letter." My immediate panicked thought was, "What could she have found out about us?" She followed up immediately with, "I read your letter to a birth mom over the phone and she picked your family! The baby is five months old already and you can meet him on Sunday." WHAT??????!!!!!!!!

I'm sure I don't need to go into the details of our crazy weekend. I can share that another time. Suffice it to say that we met Desiree and our sweet Isaac on Sunday, November 16th and Monday, November 17th he was in our home. A true miracle.

With no time to prepare, we ended up setting up a Pack 'n Play in our bedroom next to our bed for him to sleep in. He slept through the first night but the second night he woke up whimpering. I leaned over, still in compete amazement over this gift with which God had astonished us. I gently lifted him into bed and placed him between me and Larry. He continued to whimper and reached about with his little hand until he found my face in the dark. He placed his little palm on my cheek and immediately stopped crying... falling asleep with his hand still on my face. Tears streamed down my face and soaked my pillow and his little hand. Larry whispered, "Are you okay?" All I could say was, "I don't deserve this."

THAT is grace. God had given us a gift in Isaac. He had shown us that He believed in our family...that He would sustain our marriage. Grace had invaded my space.

These are the moments I need to remember... what God has done for me, the chief of sinners. I need to keep that wonder... return to that wonder...the wonder of His grace.

Too much to catch up on...

There is SO much I need to get down. So over the next week or more I will be posting things as I get them out of my head and onto paper. Look forward to some of these things that have been swimming around inside my cerebral soup (there may even be accompanying visuals!):

• Buffalo Wings and Beer Tsunamis: Adventures with Larry
• Thoughts on "The Born" (or "The First Time I Got Pissed At Anne Lamott EVER And How I Got Past It)
• Rage and the Waterlogged Brain (or "Weaning Yourself From Anti-depressants")...sounds exciting, huh?
• He Gets the Gospel (or "Why I Love My Teenage Son")
• Why I Hate Chicago Drivers (actually...that won't be a post...I just needed to get that out)

Meet y'all back here on the blogosphere soon.

Ok...time to get serious...

I have been thoroughly inspired! Jen Zug, if you're reading, you have inspired me to be more regular about blogging as well as writing. So...if any of you out there care about what's up in at the Baldwin Bungalow or in this crazy, messed up mind of mine...here it is. My blog. Check back or subscribe and we'll see if this is one of those things that my ADD mind can actually follow through on!

Undone

Last night I was undone...weepy and worried and starving for spiritual nourishment as well as physical provision. For some reason I found I could not focus on my Bible Study reading...or maybe I didn't want to. I went to the basement in the dark and quiet and turned on a small light and just started flipping through some books I had gathered for a project I'm developing...hoping to coerce my mind and emotions to drift to other things. I paged through the first book, "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, and my eye was drawn to a paragraph with faded yellow highlighter...a passage that must have grabbed my attention at some other time in some other place. This is what I read:

"You may be insecure, inadequate, mistaken, or potbellied. Death, Panic, Depression and Disillusionment may be near you. But you are not just that. You are accepted. Never confuse your perception of yourself with the mystery that you are really accepted."

It broke me.

Here's the thing...Death...Panic...Depression...Disillusionment...this is where I am. They are not just near. They have taken over. Up until now, death had mercifully taken a back seat to panic, depression and disillusionment, my ever present companions in this season of need that my family is struggling to navigate. However, this past week, my dearest friend here in Indiana, a friend of my heart, found a spot on her lung. We laughed about it as she prepared for her CT scan, joking about our matching nodules. (I have had a non-progressing nodule on my lung for three years.) Last Friday night our families gathered to enjoy dinner together, have wine and good conversation. My sweet friend had just received "the call". Her CT scan had shown her nodule is 1.5 cm. and her surrounding lymph nodes are swollen...this is cause for concern. So, this Friday I will be driving her home from her lung biopsy. It will be a long week. As will the weekend as we wait to hear the results. Selfishly, so selfishly, I want her to be whole...because selfishly, so selfishly, I am afraid I can not bear to lose her. I feel I can't bear another thing.

I thank God for my reminder from Brennan Manning that I am not just these things that are consuming me and eating away at my peace and security. It is a mystery but I am more. I need these tokens...these promptings because I can't see it...if I am more, I can't see it. So, I cling to these mementos of God's grace written by a stranger's hand.