Surrendering to Sabbath – Week 18

May 11, 2013 by 11 Comments

rbsabbathweek18-1

H and I hold hands along the foot path, stopping every few feet to capture what is new to us. There is something beautiful about misted color and the wisdom of trees holding time in the hollows of their trunks. Vines twist upward, gnarl around her branches creating a holy haven for fowl in winter.

The unmanicured canopy of creation, it lays out like a pile of pixie sticks falling exquisitely random and untouched by human hands.

Canal boats drift steady, snoring sleepily between banks flush with green moss and upside down teacups hanging from stems like crooks of tiny folded umbrellas.

rbsabbathweek18

rbsabbathweek18-2

We’ll remember our twenty-third wedding anniversary in England. The quiet Sabbath stroll we took down the lane, next to a meadow of dandelions. Where we realized we’ve been on a grand adventure with God at the helm since we said, “I do”.

And it’s been a good ride. I’m leaning in. And waiting.

rbsabbathweek18-3

May you look back today and realize that God is and always has been with you, in the silence and grief, in the adrenaline rush of joy fulfilled, the promise of tomorrow, and in the hope of future dreams. He redeems the weeds and makes them beautiful.

Happy Sabbath Friends!

Click on the tab “Sabbath Society” to learn more about the sisterhood.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , ,

Because You Are Enough

February 14, 2013 by 30 Comments

rbenough2

H goes to bed before me lately. Tired is a common word in our conversations.  I put my phone on the charger next the lamp on the nightstand. He’s lying on my side, warming up my spot. He loves me this way for as long as I can remember, even when he is tired.

After I wash my face, complete the bedtime ritual, he looks up from his Kindle to see my eyes when I approach the bed to crawl in. “How are you,” he asks.

It’s not a casual question. He’s looking for the truth.

I hesitate to respond. Because sometimes the truth of what we hide on the inside, when self-doubt enters through the back door, it isn’t pretty. I vacillate. Count the cost of revealing the truth about the lies I have just told myself.

That I feel insignificant when I read about what others do to advance the Kingdom, wonder if I do enough.  And really, it’s not just about sharing my faith where I come up short, the accusations shout when it comes to parenting, being a wife, a friend, a housekeeper, and a writer. Am I enough? Doing enough?

I say it out loud; tell him about the fragments of doubt swirling in mind. He throws his hands up in exasperation over my refusal to believe the truth he’s told me repeatedly for twenty-three years. That I am beautiful just the way I am, and I am enough.

Comparison is a sneaky diversion, a fork in the road on the way to destiny.  And his speaking the truth, it keeps me from wrong turns and roadblocks to hope. Love wipes away the fog hanging between conviction and condemnation. It clarifies my blurry reflection.

It’s hard to explain how love from a man that stands sturdy through wavering days and wondering can transform a girl into woman. How fragments become pieces of beauty when tended by a farmer of truth who trusts in the power of redemption above sainthood to grow a person.

Marriage isn’t about meeting needs, but laying them down and forgetting you ever had them.

When I crawl into the warm spot he left on my side of the bed, curl up next to him and hold on to his arm, laughter pours from my belly. All that guilt I carried into the room, it looks hilarious and out of place laying there beside love.

On this Valentine’s Day and every day, may you know that you are enough. Because Christ is enough. And He loves you.

rbenough1

Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose with the word prompt: Love.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , ,

An Unexpected Gift and An Invitation . . . For You

November 5, 2012 by 46 Comments

Tired, it’s what we are when we enter the room of strangers waiting on our arrival. We wear smiles, shake hands with jean clad pastors and their wives from around the country, pushing past exhaustion. One of them extends a hand my direction and his words, they startle me awake.

We extend pleasantries, find common ground. Learn that all of us are from Arizona, now serving in different states. He grew up in Mesa, a city known for its Mormon population, but his Dad raises him as an atheist, to prove something to the Mormon Church. And God breaks into his life as a teen, in the middle of a geometry test. Now he pastors a church in Texas.

I’m standing with my mouth open now. God reveals himself to an atheist during a geometry test? Wow.

I use tongs to put blanched green beans and asparagus spears on my glass plate, spoon curry sauce and crab cakes next to them. Stand at the granite counter in the kitchen next to the man with a mustache who led us in worship with his guitar, before we broke bread.

He tells me about the forty year history of friendship among most of the couples in the room and then he talks about his family.  He’s blindsided by his teenage son’s drug addiction, but Teen Challenge turns his life around. Then he whispers that tomorrow he and his wife will celebrate their 40th anniversary. They haven’t told the group yet.

And I’m not sure which miracle is greater:  Forty years of friendship, forty years of marriage, or radical healing from addiction.

A friend puts her arm around my shoulder, moves me to the end of her dining room table where the wives huddle in conversation. They want to know about me. Ask questions about marriage, ministry and my childhood.

These people aren’t strangers anymore.

We’re like the thief hanging on the cross next to Jesus, laying our cards on the table, admitting failures and pain in the hand life dealt. Instead of scoffing about our circumstances, we’re turning our head toward Jesus and echoing his words, “Remember Me.” (Luke 23:39-42)

Because relationship with you and with Christ, it’s born in the admonition of our failure. We’ve opened our hearts in revealing the mess strewn on the kitchen floor, finding ourselves drawn to the light shining around the table.

Jesus response?  Today you matter. And the proof is in the room. (Luke 23:43)

As we walk to the car in the dark, we hear it through the illuminated windows. The faint sound of voices singing Happy Anniversary to you . . . and I’m not tired anymore. He remembers.

An Invitation

Over the next six weeks we’ll explore answering the question, “How do you walk out your faith in the midst of pain, loneliness, disappointment, and suffering.” We’ll sit around the community table of this blog and hear stories from Tara Pohlkotte, Deidra Riggs, Danelle Landry Townsend, Darrell Vesterfelt, Kelli Woodford and others that help us see Him more clearly through our struggles. 

And . . . we’re inviting you to join us on Thursdays for Redemptions Beauty Book Club, a community discussion on the book Leaving  Church by Barbara Brown Taylor.

How can you be a part of all the fun?

Linking with Michelle, Laura, Jen, Eileen and Ann.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Letting Go of Expectations

October 4, 2012 by 6 Comments

Yesterday we talked about letting go of our schedule in order to receive the gifts He holds stretched out in divine interruption. But what about the agenda we have for someone else?

When your pastor could’ve said it better that morning.  Your daughter chooses to attend a rival college. Your star soccer player gives up a scholarship to pursue art. Aging parents decide to give their possessions away to neighbors. A teacher chooses a book for your children that you don’t like. A friend won’t admit they have a drug problem.

When your husband should read your mind and do the dishes because you’re exhausted.  And doesn’t.

 When we heard this, we and all the local believers all begged Paul not to go on to Jerusalem.

But he said, “Why all this weeping? You are breaking my heart! I am ready not only to be jailed at Jerusalem but even to die for the sake of the Lord Jesus.”

When it was clear that we couldn’t persuade him, we gave up and said “The Lord’s will be done.” Acts 21: 12-14

Is it possible to let go of our aspirations for others, our filmstrip of life with scenes that don’t match our imagination?

Perhaps we’re standing among the local believers consoling each other with shared opinions that meander down the road of selfish ambition. Taking scissors to blank chapters of fearful imagination. Forgetting about the final destination of the journey and missing the road signs along the way leading to, “The Lord’s will be done.”

How do you know when it’s okay to speak into someone’s life versus letting go of your agenda for them?

 This is the fourth post in the series 31 Days of Letting Go. You can read the collective here. If you are a writer, I invite you to link up your post on the topic in the comments on Friday of each week so we can glean from your perspective. Subscribe to receive the series in your inbox or feed by adding your address in the side bar under Follow Redemptions Beauty.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

Harnessing Dreams and Giving Them Voice

September 19, 2012 by 40 Comments

Scrapbooks and photo albums cover an army of sweat pant legs folded on the floor of the retreat center. Laughter over big hair and shoulder pads the size of pillows turn heads to the corner of the room in unison. However, I notice that some aren’t laughing or holding a scrapbook.

It was an insensitive oversight on my part as the leader. How I asked a couple hundred women to bring their wedding albums to the retreat for a fun evening of looking back in time. I didn’t even think about it, until I noticed a few women huddled together without anything on their laps.

They just met, relieved to be sitting next to each other.  They didn’t bring albums because one was on her third marriage and the other got married on a New Year’s whim in Vegas.

I was giving away prizes for the funniest hairdo, most changed, married the longest and I alienated several in the room by the small lens of my own experience. And every retreat, small group and bible study I’ve led since, these women remind me to think inclusive.

Luckily, Kelly (left) and LuAnn (right) turned out to be my closest friends.

Because sometimes in the midst of your biggest blunders, God redeems it with a gift you weren’t expecting.

My friend LuAnn just moved to Phoenix, joined the Mom’s group I led and bravely decided to come to the annual women’s retreat alone. She didn’t know anyone yet. It turns out that what I assumed to be courageous, was actually an act of faith.

She and her husband were on the heels of surviving his affair. And I represented the very thing that shattered her marriage, a pastor’s wife. In my ignorance, I assigned her to a room with the wife of the senior pastor.

Or maybe it was providence?

The three of us, we’ve shared tears in the delivery room of grace, swimming lessons by the pool, family vacations, and laughter about stages that come with wrinkles. We’ve acquiesced over the loss of muscle tone, of loved ones and the loss of community between us, now separated by thousands of miles.

Whenever we open the gift of wrapping our arms around each other, it’s often in the context of a retreat. We return to a similar setting, the way God joined us together the first time, with one exception. LuAnn speaks from the platform on many of those occasions.

I’m hoping for a reunion here in April, where I’m honored to play a small part in the dream of another friend. Because we’ll be talking about harnessing dreams and giving them voice and I want to share that with you and my two friends. The friends who forgave my insensitivity and helped transform dreams into reality, just by loving me.

Have you ever been to a retreat? Do you have close friends that live far away? I always say two days away with girlfriends, accelerates friendship two years. I hope you’ll consider coming to Nebraska for Jumping Tandem: The Retreat. Deidra’s dreaming up an amazing weekend with you in mind . I’d love to meet you there.

Early registration begins October 1st and space is limited.

Linking with friends Jennifer and Emily (they’re speaking at the retreat), Duane (I write with him at BibleDude.net on Friday’s for Living the Story – check it out), WLWW and Walk with Him Wednesday.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Shed the Guilt, Because You Are Enough

July 9, 2012 by 67 Comments

H bends over in the parking lot as we leave Dillard’s and picks up the brand new dollar bill lying on the pavement. We’re the only people standing there, so we keep it, even though it feels awkward. And right when he holds it up between his thumb and index finger, I remember the dream I had the night before. I collect money laying around in a crowded room full of people who never saw it for themselves.

It’s one of several dreams I’ve had this week. Each dream is the preface for a story that unfolds later in the day or week. I notice it because I took some intentional time to be quiet and listen, journaling what He whispers in the stillness. My notes become a sacred echo that prayer isn’t a one-sided conversation.

I’m desperate to hear Him because the room in my head, it’s over-crowded with thoughts vociferous with guilt that sound like, “you aren’t measuring up.”  A sign that in listening to the voices of others, I’ve become deaf to His.

I wear guilt like pulling a tired coat from a tall armoire, the family name engraved in the wood above the mirror. A nice tweed for guilt about parenting; not doing  enough, engaging enough, disciplining enough, or being fun enough.   A hounds tooth fitted for marriage guilt accusing me of not being sexy enough, thoughtful enough, or supportive enough.  

And there is the all-weather trench for not serving my community enough, volunteering at church and school enough, cultivating friendships enough, and keeping things tidy enough. I have one of those in every color. I can’t fit another hanger on the rod it’s so crowded.

Wearing a coat in the scorching heat of a July sun becomes a heavy nuisance. So hot, I can’t wait to shed it, even if it means being exposed.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 2 Corinthians 12:9

That moment of freedom from the voices that hold me captive, sweating inside that coat with GUILT sewn into the collar, is better than a thousand moments elsewhere.

I’ve stood in the center of the merry-go-round wearing the salmon trench with the big buttons while guilt pushed me around so fast I couldn’t hear the truth anymore.

Have you taken a ride on this merry-go-round too? When the truth is a faint whisper, barely audible amidst accusing voices. It’s time to step off and sit in silence free from guilt’s dizzying trance. 

H pulls the dollar bill out of his pocket to buy me a bottle of water. I’m feeling dehydrated in Costco. He says, “You know this water is a gift, we’re not paying for it.” I smile in the remembrance of freedom that comes in hearing Him. And I can almost see Jesus smiling back at me. He’s holding my coat. He’ll hold yours too.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 2 Corinthians 3:17

 

Counting the Multitudes on Monday with Ann:

For wise words from a blogging friend that starts the road to freedom this week.

A dream that gives guidance and an answer to prayer.

A July 4th holiday full of good memories with my family.

An email from a new friend that gives writing encouragement just when doubt peeks in the room.

A finished mulching job in the scorching heat and the way my flowers look so beautiful.

The neighbor lady that walks her dog by my house and says how much they miss Winston, on the day I’m missing him too.

Linking with Playdates with God, Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday, Just Write, Soli Deo Gloria 

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , ,

When Fear Takes Over, Take Courage

May 14, 2012 by 103 Comments

Arms wrap around shoulders and cheeks touch goodbye one last time before I crawl into the passenger seat next to H. “Go ahead and cry now, you know you want to,” he says as we back out of the driveway, young arms waving wildly on the front lawn. And I do, I want to cry . . . every time.

An anniversary trip to Europe sings joy until the suitcases of reality load in the trunk and we pull away from secure and predictable. Anxiety reminds of what I hold on to, that needs letting go.

Because I can sink into the couch of a well-planned schedule – the way they like their eggs cooked,  sandwiches made, the laundry folded – and miss His pulling back the welcome curtain to the world that doesn’t look like us.

Finding security in control of the small in the everyday, it tricks me into thinking I have any control at all.

Until we touch down on English soil, walk through customs into a world of taking seats on the opposite side of experience. It’s then that fear, the invisible third person in the car, joins me as a passenger to driving on the other side of the road. We clench together stiff along the narrow, winding journey of beautiful change.

Fear whispers questions in my ear, about what might happen if we have an accident, if he inadvertently pulls into the right lane when it should be the left. Or if we lose control driving at high speed. What then? 

And if fear sits beside me, freedom smiles next to H looking at me puzzled. Because freedom rooted in generations of walking faith, it doesn’t speak the language of fear.

Fear is my unwelcome relative, part of the family tree for generations that shows up unexpectedly to parties I host for risk and adventure. He weezles his way into crowded thoughts, plants doubt when no one is looking, then spreads out safe and secure like a picnic with a basket full of excuses.

And the only way to release him from lurking around in the kitchen of cooked up dreams is to send courage in to tell him to go home.

Courage is the humble guest that sees clear through crowded rooms of fear. He understands the purpose in risk and adventure, sacrifices Himself to get there for love.

I choose to follow Courage careening narrow along stone walls flanking green quilt dotted woolly white.  Walk over fear to the other side of predictable along cobblestone streets and underground stares.  He knows where He is going, the way to get there. And the path looks a lot like love.

The act of courage calls forth infallibly that deeper part of ourselves that supports and sustains us. ~Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Does fear keep you from fulfilling dreams? From experiencing adventure?

Counting gifts with Multitudes on Monday, giving thanks to change the way we see:

  • For my husband that was born with a GPS in his mind. The way he navigates, gets us around a country on the opposite side of experience with joy.
  • Harrison’s recovery from a mysterious virus that knocked him down for a month.
  • Geri, my mother-in-law, the way she takes care of things at home so we can travel free of mental lists and worry.
  • Sunny and dry weather in England, after a record month of rain.
  • Fresh croissants and scones with tea.
  • No cooking or dishes for ten days.
  • Staying at a castle the night of my 22nd wedding anniversary.
  • Geri brining my forgotten computer bag from home to the airport before our flight boarded.
  • That yummy English breakfast every.single.morning.
  • Seeing dear friends, hugging long, even if only for one hour.
  • Harrods displaying an ad on seven floors of escalators to the place where I live – irony.

Also linking with Playdates with God, Hear it on Sunday, Use it on Monday, Miscellany Monday, Just Write, On Your Heart Tuesday, Soli Deo Gloria, Better Mom Monday.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
«Older Posts