Promise

It all started with a rainbow.

In Genesis after the earth flooded, God sent a rainbow as a promise to Noah and mankind. "Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you... Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life" (14 - 15).

So flash forward a few thousand years. My roommate Molly and I are both in an ark of transition. She's finished graduate school. We've both finished four years of ministry work. We both feel the nudge to move on. But where?

We're floating. Nothing seems clear on the horizon. Nothing is certain. We've spent countless evenings together over the past year talking, praying - our eyes pouring out of our storms within. We keep reminding each other God provides, but the only plausible thing we see coming into our limited view is joblessness and homelessness.

Molly and I got away for the weekend to clear and distract our minds. But the depression caught up to us again the evening we came back. The atmosphere was fitting: gray, cloudy, damp. We cried in silence for a while on the way home; the salty tears a taste of our shaky, eroding hope. Looking up, Molly broke the silence. "There's a rainbow! God really will keep his promise."  

I will remember my covenant between me and you... Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life.  

We both stared at the rainbow until it vanished into light overtaking the dark clouds, trying to soak this reminder into our bones.

That was a month ago. And now some things are starting to appear on the horizon. Yesterday we said teary goodbyes as we moved out of our apartment and away from the beautiful little lake town that holds so many dear friends and soul-shaping experiences. We've both been offered jobs. And the potential for new housing, community and friendship has fallen into my lap in an astounding series of events that can only be attributed to the gracious provision of God. Neither of us know where we'll end up living after the next month. Or what our new, separate lives are going to look like. But we're clinging to the promise of the rainbow. And I never want to forget.

What gives you hope in hard times?

Photo: iStockphoto.com/lior2

Who Are You Listening To?

You are worthless. Your talent has no value. Do you know that voice? Read my latest Christian Writer's Guild contribution:

Who Are You Listening To?

"Chills prickled my arms as the man on stage locked eyes with me. 'You are worthless. Your talent has no value.'

“'That’s not true,' I whispered, though his words felt real." READ MORE

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christianwritersguild.org

Does your creative muse seem more like a bully? Learn how to confront it!

Confronting Your Creative Bully

"Creativity has bad timing. I’m elbows deep in dish suds or gridlocked in traffic when it dangles a succulent idea before me. But when I’m at my desk and ready for it creativity lurks just out of reach, snickering. If creativity is taunting you, take charge." READ MORE

How to Communicate with an ISFP | eHow.com

eHow.com

I've been initiated into the eHow.com family. Read my first eHow article:

How to Communicate With an ISFP

"Your companion might seem aloof and unapproachable now, but with a little insight into her ISFP -- Introversion, Sensing Feeling, Perception -- personality, you'll discover a warm and vivacious person. The key to communicating with an ISFP is to patiently build rapport, according to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. These individuals are..." READ MORE

What Are You Waiting For?

From: CWG

You have all the ideas and ambitions in the world -- what's holding you back?

Check my article at the Christian Writer's Guild

What Are You Waiting For?

“Success depends upon previous preparation. Without such preparation there is sure to be failure.”—Confucius For once my fortune cookie got it right. What are you doing to prepare for success? Honing your skills? Building relationships? Researching markets? Or are you, as I was, waiting for something? [...]

Sabbath Celebration

"I'm so tired," said my roommate while kneading bread dough for our birthday bash. "Why am I so tired, and why do I suddenly not care about this party?"

Sometimes celebration takes work. This is what I told her. The thought struck me not 20 minutes earlier when, after a full week of work, I dragged myself to the grocery store to buy party food. We're busy, tired people. It is no wonder we don't set aside time for fun or rest. And the busier we become, the more intentional we have to be about carving time out.

Which brings me to thoughts about the Sabbath.

I am very lucky to work for a ministry that values our individual relationships with our Maker. So once per school semester we are given a day in the middle of the week to specifically set aside time with God. That day happened this Wednesday.

I spent the morning journaling, praying and listening to a sermon while I sipped a steamy, spicy dark roast. I spent the afternoon listening to music, reading and praying in solitude. It was wonderful. Refreshing. As my co-worker called it, "A spa day for the soul." I went to bed early that night. I woke up refreshed. Calm. Clear-eyed. At peace and in commune with God.

I thought about the vast difference between that Sabbath day, and my actual Sabbath day each Sunday. Most Sundays are spent in a tizzy of writing and accomplishing all the things I don't have time to do during the week, and that I didn't have time to finish on Saturday. I go to church in the evening. Come home, go to bed and get right back to my work-week. Tired. Groggy. And let's face it, a little grumpy.

My Sunday is only Sabbath in name. Not in practice. I'm not intentional about my day of rest. This, like celebration, requires preparation.

The Hebrew word for holy literally means "set apart." To keep the Sabbath holy means to set it apart from the rest of the week, to give back to God what is already his.  

In her book Mudhouse Sabbath, Lauren Winner quotes author Nan Fink's memoir Stranger in the Midst, the story of her conversion to Judiasm. Her description of her Sabbath preparations echo my party scenario:

On Friday afternoon, at the very last minute, we'd rush home, stopping at the grocery store to pick up supplies. Flying into the kitchen we'd cook ahead for the next twenty-four hours. ...Sometimes I'd think how strange it was to be in such a frenzy to get ready for a day of rest.

Fink goes on to say Shabbat, or Sabbath, preparations have their own rhythm, and once the table is set and the house cleaned, the pace begins to slow.

In Mudhouse Sabbath, Winner says Shabbat is about the "Thou Shalts" and the "Thou Shalt Nots." Thou shalt rest, sing, eat and be merry. Thou shalt not cook, clean, write, draw, paint, etc... Essentially, thou shalt not create. Because "the Sabbath reprises God's rest after he finished creating." And our acknowledgment of this gives nod to the fact that this world is not ours, but God's.

So here is my summary of discovery: 

             Sabbath is a day set apart.

                          Celebration is a time set apart.

                                            Sabbath is a holy celebration.

Both Sabbath and Celebration require some preparation. Some - gasp - discipline.

It's not profound, but these are my baby steps forward. The labor gives birth to sweet joys, clean breaths. Our happy souls sigh, ahh and amen.

Bringing Up the Rear

We are all a part of the body of Christ. Which one are you?

Bringing Up the Rear

"A friend told of a little girl she knows who learned a new song - 'I'm in the Lord's Army' - in Sunday school. She marched around the house singing her own interpretation,'I may never march in the infantry, ride in the Calvary, shoot the artillery. I may never fly o'er the enemy, I'm a butt in the Lord's army.'" [...]

1000 Things

I really desire to cultivate a gracious and grateful attitude. That's part of my celebration schtick this year. But what about when there isn't much to celebrate?

Yesterday I woke up to a gray-cloud morning. My body knew it before I woke. The heavy sand bags wouldn't lift from my eyes. My skin was tired and dry and puffy. And my mood? It was like I had crabby patties for the previous night's dinner.

Work didn't help. Everybody needs something, a 1000 things at once. And they need it yesterday or right now. I feel used and used up. I've lost my drive, my oomph, my spunk. Can I quit and come back tomorrow?

This morning I woke feeling rested and refreshed. This rarely happens; I am not a morning dove. But the sun was shining and my body knew it. Yet today feels much the same as yesterday, and by now I've lost that morning-fresh feeling. Instead, I'm trying to cling to its memory.

My roommate recently told me about her friend who has resolved to write down 1000 blessings this year. Today, even if I don't feel like it, I'm looking for things to be grateful for.

Here's what I have so far:

• Waking to the sun.
• Feeling the unusually warm temperatures on my unusually rested eyes.
• Hearing the birds chirp in mid-February.
• That impromptu shoulder massage.
• Those kind words from my co-worker.
• That encouraging phone call.
• Friday!
• That movie I'm going to watch later, in those sweats I'm going to wear, on that couch I'm going to snuggle in.

It isn't 1000 things, but it's a good start.

Do you have something to add to the list? Leave a comment.

I'm overjoyed and over loved and feeling lucky...

-- Jason Mraz "1000 Things"

*Photo by Bill Liao

Heart-shaped Celebration

My heart is full. And it isn't because it's the season of red, white and roses.

It isn't even because of the spring-like break from Indiana's sub-freezing temperatures. And it's not because of the tree full of robins flitting outside my office window.

It's not because of the heart-shaped cookie on my desk from an office Valentine elf (cupid?). 

All (or most) of these things make me really happy. But it's much deeper than all of that.

I think it's the affirmation of God's care for me. He's opening up the lid of my comfort box and is tugging on my hand. He's told me he'll take care of me, but my control-freakishness doesn't always let me believe that. Right now I have my big toe out and I'm testing the ground.

And do you know what I've found?

It's solid.

And that's cause for celebration.

Counting My Birthday Blessings

Today I am celebrating my birthday.

It's hard to believe I'm 28. Some days, I still feel (and probably act) like I am only eight. And I still have vivid memories from childhood: Sitting on my mom's bed asking her how old I was about to become. "You'll be three years old," she said as she helped me hold up three fingers. Summers spent climbing the tree (and also getting stuck in it) in our old front yard. Receiving Niki, my much loved Cabbage Patch doll, on my fourth birthday. Seven years old, helping my dad build a rope ladder for the new tree house he built.

In all of my memories, particularly my birthday memories, I'm surrounded by people I love. And I realize how incredibly blessed I am. It's only noon and I've already lost count of the wishes, phone calls, prayers and cards I've received. I feel really grateful right now.

Yes, birthdays are days to celebrate the wonderful, unique, "no one is youer than you." But it isn't really you, or me that makes a birthday special. It's the people you are blessed to have in your life.

So yes, today I am celebrating life. But I'm also celebrating (and counting) my blessings.