death and then living

I’ve been running a lot.

This is why I run:

I like to hang out with Courtney and Elisabeth

Relieve stress from school/work/life

I am competitive

I’m developing my belief system of a healthy lifestyle/perspective so I can talk to patients about it without being a total hypocrite

Time alone with God, my thoughts, worship, and music. Prayer.

I feel better

Sometimes I run past the Morris Hill Cemetery. The one on Americana and Latah. I think graveyards are beautiful, thought-provoking. I love looking at the dates and names and wondering who all those people were, who they left behind, what counted in their lives. I like that there’s contradiction in running to stay in shape past a graveyard. Running past death makes me think about living. How do I live so that my life has significance? How much control do I even have? Solomon (a king of Jerusalem in the 2^nd century BC) is, some say, the wisest man ever to have lived, and in Ecclesiastes he wrote that life is meaningless. Meaningless? Nothing is new under the sun. Seasons come and go. Everyone dies regardless of what they believe or don’t believe, and whether they are righteous or wicked, good or bad. A month after I started running past Morris Hill Cemetery my grandpa died. Recent thoughts on life and death and significance compounded with grief and sorrow and sadness and MEANING. Mourning for my grandpa the last week of his life was one of the most beautiful and horrible experiences I’ve ever had.

Excerpts from the book of Ecclesiastes-Chapter 1 and Chapter 12

¹ The words of the Teacher, son of David, king in Jerusalem:

² "Meaningless! Meaningless!"
says the Teacher.
"Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless."

³ What does man gain from all his labor
at which he toils under the sun?

⁴ Generations come and generations go,
but the earth remains forever.

⁵ The sun rises and the sun sets,
and hurries back to where it rises.

⁶ The wind blows to the south
and turns to the north;
round and round it goes,
ever returning on its course.

⁷ All streams flow into the sea,
yet the sea is never full.
To the place the streams come from,
there they return again.

⁸ All things are wearisome,
more than one can say.
The eye never has enough of seeing,
nor the ear its fill of hearing.

⁹ What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun.

¹⁰ Is there anything of which one can say,
"Look! This is something new"?
It was here already, long ago;
it was here before our time.

¹¹ There is no remembrance of men of old,
and even those who are yet to come
will not be remembered
by those who follow.

The Conclusion of the Matter-Chapter 12

⁹ Not only was the Teacher wise, but also he imparted knowledge to the people. He pondered and searched out and set in order many proverbs. ¹⁰ The Teacher searched to find just the right words, and what he wrote was upright and true.

¹¹ The words of the wise are like goads, their collected sayings like firmly embedded nails—given by one Shepherd. ¹² Be warned, my son, of anything in addition to them.
Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body.

¹³ Now all has been heard;
here is the conclusion of the matter:
Fear God and keep his commandments,
for this is the whole duty of man.

¹⁴ For God will bring every deed into judgment,
including every hidden thing,
whether it is good or evil.

About Sheep

This month I’ve been experiencing a lot of confusion, tears, and have lost my clarity. Where is this emotion coming from? I can’t even think straight some days. God is doing something.

In the midst of this craziness, He has been having me read and think a lot about blind and lame men (not lame as in not cool, but physically unable to do something, like walk), sheep, and women clutching tightly onto Christ’s robe. I’ve been picturing myself as one of these women, grabbing hold and trailing behind him, so afraid of letting go. Sheep: a little lamb wandering off busy eating without watching where she’s going…just munching away. What do all these things have in common? Dependence? Control?

Once when I was a little girl, probably around 10 years old, I was out playing hard at recess so far out in the field behind the playground that I didn’t hear the bell ring to come inside. I must have been so content playing all alone in my own little kid world. I don’t know how long it had been, but I remember all of a sudden I looked around and didn’t see any other kids outside. Oh no! Was I in trouble? Was anybody looking for me? What was going to happen when I wandered back into the classroom? (Where were those recess ladies on duty?) I crept back into the classroom, where I tried to sneakily get back to my desk and sit down without being seen. I don’t know what I thought would happen, maybe that my life would be over? Let me preface this with something about myself that I’m really embarrassed about now: I made sure I never, ever got in trouble, especially at school. My parents often tell me that when I was just a little girl they would throw one stern look at me and I would burst out in tears, devastated. So back to the story, nothing really happened. It was all very anticlimactic, I don’t’ think the teacher really noticed, or if he did he must of just looked at me, and then kept on teaching. Whew, everything was going to be okay. I was so not cool. I wish now that I would’ve have gotten in trouble more, at least a little bit, just so I know that I could survive it. I’m so worried about messing up. I hate that I still care so much about “getting in trouble”: my perfectionism. Today, like lots of days, I still feel like that sensitive little girl. Will I ever get over “being in trouble” and stop caring if someone might think I’m not smart, pretty, funny, kind enough?? I annoy my sensibilities.

It’s a good thing that God is a shepherd who really watches over little lambs like me. I don’t know what’s going on most of the time, and when I find something good to eat just over the hill, or in the next valley, sometimes I just wander away. Other times I run, sneak, or look behind my shoulder to see if anyone is watching. Poor little lost sheep. He lies me down in green pastures, and guides me to streams of water to drink, even protects me from those animals ready to gobble me up. It’s starting to become obvious that the last few weeks I’ve made Him have to force me to lay me down, wake me up, and guide me. I can’t do anything good enough on my own. God is telling me to stop worrying and let Him take care of me, all the time, and not to fight Him. There are parts of me that He knows I haven’t given up to Him or let Him heal, or change, places that I don’t even realize are there, and places I’m afraid to go. My only real strength comes from Him.

Here’s something I keep on reading over and over lately:

Psalm 23

¹ The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

² He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,

³ he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

⁴ Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me;
your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.

⁶ Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.

Dance Party

Dance party at my house…by myself. Okay not by myself but with my Father. I was dancing on His feet. He was showing me the steps today while I flailed my arms and tripped on my big, skinny feet. The dogs looking at me worried. I closed my eyes listened to the music and danced.

God didn’t make me a ballerina..but I still think He thinks my clumsy feet are beautiful..and adorable….HE loves me. Maybe He made me clumsy on purpose. Gracefully clumsy.

Confidence in my identity in Christ..as a young woman. Not pride but confidence. Wisdom. Resting. Being filled..spilling over…

Romance. I love it. It melts me. All my strength turns into swooning, fluttering. I forget myself. Wanting to fall apart in it.

"Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music."

— Angela Monet

Chayil and an exploration of beauty

Today I was rummaging around online (can someone really rummage around online…?)for templates or images for this blog of mine. What do I want it to look like? Feel like, read like? I ended up on Flickr and typed in various, and now seemingly uncreative, search words such as landscape and color and colour. Not finding anything that was working for me I eventually typed BEAUTY in that little search box. I don’t know what I was hoping for with that, maybe artists’ depictions of beauty, more landscapes, more colors, skies. But what I noticed most were the images of women: smiling, young, old, naked, clothed, black, white, colorful, dark, dirty, clean, polished, working, third world, urban, plastic, country, all mixed in with images of landscapes and flowers. They were all beautiful.

This search brought me back to a previous exploration of women and beauty that I had done in preparing for a talk for high school girls a month or so ago.

"A capable, intelligent, and virtuous woman--who is he who can find her? She is far more precious than jewels and her value is far above rubies or pearls” Proverbs 31:10

CHAYIL (pronounced khah'-yil) is the Hebrew word translated as virtue that is used in this popular biblical passage. If someone had asked me before my study what a “virtuous women” looks like, in a moment I probably would have described images of soft, serious, modest, kind but maybe even passive women. Honestly, all kind of nun-like. Surprisingly though, this

 word that has been translated to “virtue” means quite the opposite of anything else that I would naturally think of when “virtuous women” pictures are conjured up in my head. This Hebrew word chayil was usually saved to describe great forces and armies. So, instead of a push-over, a woman that is said to be “chayil” would possess a certain strength, might, and power. Think about that! What does that women look like?

That’s it.

And I still haven’t found a layout I love.

On the Loose

I always thought that my husband was the one of us with the passionate, roaming mind, full of imaginings swathed in his strong ideals. However now that school and ministry is waning and summer has given way, I’ve found myself awash in all kinds of lists of to do’s, wild dreams, and ambitious undertakings. It’s been two years since I’ve had this kind of freedom to imagine and honestly I’m driving myself crazy. How can I get anything accomplished with my mind on the loose like this? I feel like I can’t possibly rein it all in now that I’ve tasted the freedom of thinking and dreaming again. School makes me so much more logical than I could ever be without it, and that has been so healthy for me relationally, in my occupation, and in setting and achieving goals. But now that I’m on reprieve my mind has ricocheted in the other direction. No logic, no rules, boundaries or making sense of it: Hence the creation of this blog. Maybe with its help I can start to contain areas of my brain that are threatening to escape.