In recent days I have come to realize my relationship with Grace has been in disrepair. What’s Grace? I see it as a force not an it, so I choose to see Grace much like I would see a person who always adds a certain elegance to what is before her. Grace can only build on something, she cannot fathom something upon nothing. Grace is that desirable illustrious creature that offers herself completely and unselfishly to anyone who seeks her wholeheartedly – the catch - you have to continually seek her and fight to stay with her.
I have been examining the nature of my relationship with Grace and I could best quantify it as merely accidental brushes here and there. I can imagine grace as a noun or verb - something I desire to exude; when it comes to receiving or living with her, I have been lacking more times than I care to admit. She often invites me to come dance with her and when I do it is always wonderful and free, but it is so specific and ornate at the same time. When I am willing our movements start to intertwine, I become strangely unnerved and unraveled. Things begin to fall away and appear in ways I do not understand when you are moving with Grace. It feels so off-kilter - I can either move away or I can fall into Grace. If try to grab something to steady myself Grace disappears as quickly as she arrived. If I try to hold onto Grace, my grip is useless I just crash into Grace. When embraced the peace and disruption seem to explode at the same time. It is hard to be cool or feel in control when you are leaning into Grace. You follow and try to press into something that cannot be held or contain. You never feel more alive and ridiculously useless at the same time.
As we lumber along I start to I think this cannot be what it is suppose to be. I was expecting something else… I cannot tell you how many times I have gotten to this place with Grace only to find myself pushing away. But once I am on my own again, I eventually come to my senses and realize what I left. Sometimes I am bold enough to I think I can recreate it on my own without her but somehow I just end up further from where I wanted t be. Just when I think there is nothing more I can do and I lay everything down, I turn the corner and there she is again. She approaches with her arms open inviting me in.
Showing posts with label Just Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Just Me. Show all posts
Monday, 18 August 2008
Wednesday, 18 June 2008
Choosing Joy
“I have the best mom ever!”
These are the unsolicited words of a five year old after she received an unexpected bike from her mother, Shawna Snow.
Apparently, while out shopping for a bike for her son, Shawna decided to purchase more sophisticated bicycle for the wee one. When the bike was dropped at the house Shawna had to go to the bank. Shea burst out to the back to tell me about her new bike. We ran back into the house to revel in her delight. As she was describing all the improvements over her old bike, her excitement grew and eventually sang out, “I have the best mom ever!”
Watching her joy, made me think about how I so easily forget to be awe-filled and thankful when unexpected provision comes my way. In that moment I became envious of her abundant and sustainable glee. I wish I could celebrate that way, instead of quickly snapping back into the ever-present problems in my reality. How did I loose that ability? Why was I convinced that joy is fleeting, when it is actually a choice and perspective? When did I start shifting so quickly to what is temporary and changing my viewpoint, choices and emotions accordingly?
For over an hour Shea waited for her mom to return from the bank, but her fervor only grew with time. When Shawna retuned from Shea’s maiden voyage on the bike, I was invited to take a spin with her as well. So much to ponder in that moment, but then I stopped and decided to live in the excitement brought on by this invitation. I shifted internally and together, lead by the grace of a five year old, I leaned into bliss.
Sunday, 18 May 2008
That is so Dutch!
Last week an agent was showing Phenny’s apartment to two potential renters (both from the UK) and the following happened…
While the clients were looking at the place I asked the agent how things were going with the placement. As the people were coming down the stairs the agent blurted, “well the place is already rented out to someone, we are just showing it until they meet the owner!” You should have seen the look on the couples face! They were shocked, but I just had to chuckle. Believe it or not bluntness is quite the norm here. Diplomacy is optional.
Another example:
The week before, Christine and I went to a French Café near Shawna’s home to have a glass of wine and get to know each other. The place was empty so I went inside to tell the owner that we wanted to sit outside for drinks. She replied…”We are a restaurant and you can get drinks at the pub on the corner.”
Time is very valuable to the Dutch; it is not wasted on those who do not warrant it. They lavish it on friends and family or projects that are meaningful, but rarely on a happenstance. If there is no immediate sense of value they become very frugal. It is one of the things I find so endearing about the culture. I know it may come across as harsh, but when I climb behind the initial shock and awe to discover their heart, I cannot help but embrace the Dutchness.
While the clients were looking at the place I asked the agent how things were going with the placement. As the people were coming down the stairs the agent blurted, “well the place is already rented out to someone, we are just showing it until they meet the owner!” You should have seen the look on the couples face! They were shocked, but I just had to chuckle. Believe it or not bluntness is quite the norm here. Diplomacy is optional.
Another example:
The week before, Christine and I went to a French Café near Shawna’s home to have a glass of wine and get to know each other. The place was empty so I went inside to tell the owner that we wanted to sit outside for drinks. She replied…”We are a restaurant and you can get drinks at the pub on the corner.”
Time is very valuable to the Dutch; it is not wasted on those who do not warrant it. They lavish it on friends and family or projects that are meaningful, but rarely on a happenstance. If there is no immediate sense of value they become very frugal. It is one of the things I find so endearing about the culture. I know it may come across as harsh, but when I climb behind the initial shock and awe to discover their heart, I cannot help but embrace the Dutchness.
Saturday, 10 May 2008
What Does It Mean?
Does that mean…
you are going to start a church?
you’ll start preaching?
you can marry and bury people?
These are the top three questions I get asked when people hear that I am ordained. I have to say that I chuckle inwardly when I imagine myself leading a church and my close friends have more of the ROFLOL response. I know these questions are asked with sincerity and healthy skepticism. To this end I felt that I should share my perception of ordainment.
Most people associate ordination with priest and pastors who work in buildings where some people gather and worship together on weekends. Maybe this is because the word first appears biblically in reference to Aaron and the first priests to the Israelites and it seems that we get stuck at that positional viewpoint. Anointing, meaning blessing with oil, was the outward expression of the act of ordination. If one was anointed it implied that they were ordained. When Jesus stated that, the Lord had anointed him to preach the good news of the gospel to the poor, was it referring only to a position? To some extent an anointing can be positional but it is a very narrow slice of a pie that was meant to be a banquet.
The word, ordain, was also used when recognizing something the creator designed and called into being. Check out Psalms 8, 65, 11, and 139, and discover what the creator desired and facilitated into existence. Ordain is a verb that implies action and proclamation, a calling out if you will, which may or may not have anything to do with an appointment to a position. Ordination is a recognizing, an acknowledgement, a command of what is.
In some respects we have gotten into the practice of putting the cart before the horse when it comes to ministry. Often people are given positional authority without the experience and testing that Aaron and his sons faced in the desert. It was a way of life for them that had to be proven over and over. A profound shift happened when anointing became based on birthright and veered from the testing that can only happen with time, which at times lead to disastrous results.
When Jesus read from Isaiah 61 he announced what had been ordained to do in this world. He had a deep understanding of what the triune God wanted to communicate to creation about its character and desire for mankind. He embodied that message, which cannot have been put on through study - it was something lived out in his eternal relationship with the one who sent him in the first place. From a young age it was evident that he was going rip to shreds what people thought they knew about their creator. What he shared was something accessible and tangible – that my friends was then and is now “good news.”
Leaders and followers of his time tested this message and its application, which left people mystified or transformed. The fact that people still refer to and argue over Jesus’ teachings is a testament to its longevity and validity in the realm of man. He was truly ordained, not because of his position but because of who he was in this world and what he offered it.
So what does ordination have to do with me? It was the acknowledgment by a body of believers who recognize that I have a gift for missions, art, and inspiring others in a way that helps them come to a better understanding of the “good news”. Dan and Kathleen Prout initiated this decree because of what they observed in the years they have known me. In turn, others who support this observation came together to echo that recognition and enter in accountability with me. In it’s barest form, this is the heart of my ordination.
I could say yes to any of the above questions and pursue those ends (who knows maybe someday I’ll officiate at someone’s wedding), but they are only one of many ways I could express my faith and what I believe I am on this planet to achieve. In truth I think I will keep doing what has been proven and asked of me, because in my heart I think it makes God smile.
you are going to start a church?
you’ll start preaching?
you can marry and bury people?
These are the top three questions I get asked when people hear that I am ordained. I have to say that I chuckle inwardly when I imagine myself leading a church and my close friends have more of the ROFLOL response. I know these questions are asked with sincerity and healthy skepticism. To this end I felt that I should share my perception of ordainment.
Most people associate ordination with priest and pastors who work in buildings where some people gather and worship together on weekends. Maybe this is because the word first appears biblically in reference to Aaron and the first priests to the Israelites and it seems that we get stuck at that positional viewpoint. Anointing, meaning blessing with oil, was the outward expression of the act of ordination. If one was anointed it implied that they were ordained. When Jesus stated that, the Lord had anointed him to preach the good news of the gospel to the poor, was it referring only to a position? To some extent an anointing can be positional but it is a very narrow slice of a pie that was meant to be a banquet.
The word, ordain, was also used when recognizing something the creator designed and called into being. Check out Psalms 8, 65, 11, and 139, and discover what the creator desired and facilitated into existence. Ordain is a verb that implies action and proclamation, a calling out if you will, which may or may not have anything to do with an appointment to a position. Ordination is a recognizing, an acknowledgement, a command of what is.
In some respects we have gotten into the practice of putting the cart before the horse when it comes to ministry. Often people are given positional authority without the experience and testing that Aaron and his sons faced in the desert. It was a way of life for them that had to be proven over and over. A profound shift happened when anointing became based on birthright and veered from the testing that can only happen with time, which at times lead to disastrous results.
When Jesus read from Isaiah 61 he announced what had been ordained to do in this world. He had a deep understanding of what the triune God wanted to communicate to creation about its character and desire for mankind. He embodied that message, which cannot have been put on through study - it was something lived out in his eternal relationship with the one who sent him in the first place. From a young age it was evident that he was going rip to shreds what people thought they knew about their creator. What he shared was something accessible and tangible – that my friends was then and is now “good news.”
Leaders and followers of his time tested this message and its application, which left people mystified or transformed. The fact that people still refer to and argue over Jesus’ teachings is a testament to its longevity and validity in the realm of man. He was truly ordained, not because of his position but because of who he was in this world and what he offered it.
So what does ordination have to do with me? It was the acknowledgment by a body of believers who recognize that I have a gift for missions, art, and inspiring others in a way that helps them come to a better understanding of the “good news”. Dan and Kathleen Prout initiated this decree because of what they observed in the years they have known me. In turn, others who support this observation came together to echo that recognition and enter in accountability with me. In it’s barest form, this is the heart of my ordination.
I could say yes to any of the above questions and pursue those ends (who knows maybe someday I’ll officiate at someone’s wedding), but they are only one of many ways I could express my faith and what I believe I am on this planet to achieve. In truth I think I will keep doing what has been proven and asked of me, because in my heart I think it makes God smile.
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Cruising In My Hood
One of the benefits of being in such a wonderful city is that you can always find something new. Most days I take time to familiarize myself with the neighborhood as I take walks to help me battle some serious jet lag (yes it is still hitting me). Here are some of my encounters…
First let me start of with where I am staying...This is the outside of the flat where I stay: The open window is my room!
And here’s the street we are on.
The fresh fruit at the markets are amazing and I have a wonderful store right on the corner. Look at the size of these blueberries. Mouthwatering goodness.
My arrival could not have been timed more perfectly. The sun is out and everyone is eager to be outside as much as possible. At the Saraphatipark near our flat people gather after work to bbq, relax and unwind.
Those who are lucky enough to own a boat take their happy hour on board. Hey who wouldn’t want to tan while you sail?
I will not bombard you pictures of all the amazing architecture, cute shops or the Heineken Brewery that litter the area, you will have to wait until I create an album or you will have to come see it for your self.
Cheers!
First let me start of with where I am staying...This is the outside of the flat where I stay: The open window is my room!
And here’s the street we are on.
The fresh fruit at the markets are amazing and I have a wonderful store right on the corner. Look at the size of these blueberries. Mouthwatering goodness.
My arrival could not have been timed more perfectly. The sun is out and everyone is eager to be outside as much as possible. At the Saraphatipark near our flat people gather after work to bbq, relax and unwind.
Those who are lucky enough to own a boat take their happy hour on board. Hey who wouldn’t want to tan while you sail?
I will not bombard you pictures of all the amazing architecture, cute shops or the Heineken Brewery that litter the area, you will have to wait until I create an album or you will have to come see it for your self.
Cheers!
Monday, 24 March 2008
Figuring it Out!
One thing about life …there are a million supposed to’s. You are suppose to pray at 5AM at the latest, you’re supposed to floss after each meal, you are supposed to …fill in the blank! One of these sticklers has recently come to a head with me personally around the mystic of writing. The mystic about being a proven pen jockey can make you a little nuts when you are starting out. The when, how, and whys are presented in a way that is so regimented for something that is suppose to be creative. How to you make an appointment with yourself to create something that was not before?
Needless to say I have been frustrated with the process of finding a process. Let’s just say that I have identified many supposed truism that are ring false when it comes to myself and others like me. Today, I found some relief at the library while combing through literary magazines digging for ideas and critiquing groups. I discovered that I am not crazy, just me when it comes to writing. Some one out there has validated my insane process so that I can take a deep breath and relax.
I am a sporadic writer and I am okay with it. Basically writing and I have a manic on and off relationship. Recently I went through my old diaries and discovered I have a long history of this pattern. There would be periods where I could not put my pen down, writing for hours a day, then one day it would just dry up. Eventually I would return to the page with incredible passion – but something always made me feel guilty for not being consistent. I would eventually get over it and enjoy the flow of words on the page. Thanks to a brief of “The Write Type” by Peterson, I feel vindicated! I ordered the book and look forward to nurturing my muse.
Needless to say I have been frustrated with the process of finding a process. Let’s just say that I have identified many supposed truism that are ring false when it comes to myself and others like me. Today, I found some relief at the library while combing through literary magazines digging for ideas and critiquing groups. I discovered that I am not crazy, just me when it comes to writing. Some one out there has validated my insane process so that I can take a deep breath and relax.
I am a sporadic writer and I am okay with it. Basically writing and I have a manic on and off relationship. Recently I went through my old diaries and discovered I have a long history of this pattern. There would be periods where I could not put my pen down, writing for hours a day, then one day it would just dry up. Eventually I would return to the page with incredible passion – but something always made me feel guilty for not being consistent. I would eventually get over it and enjoy the flow of words on the page. Thanks to a brief of “The Write Type” by Peterson, I feel vindicated! I ordered the book and look forward to nurturing my muse.
Saturday, 22 March 2008
A Little Taste of Europe. (Un peu de goût de l'Europe)
Today is a day of memories and visiting familiar places while missing what I anticipate in Europe. One of the things I miss most about Europe is the ability to go just about anywhere on public transportation or the power of your own two feet. California leaves one feeling stranded most of the time if you dare not to posses a vehicle.During one of the fleeting moments I was graced with a vehicle, I drove around aimlessly until I landed in my old haunt Santa Monica. Some of my most vivacious and delectable times of my life were spent on this delectable tidbit nestled on the California coast. When I parked the car at the library and walked around I felt refreshed and giddy almost instantly. The transformation was almost magical. I felt like I was lovingly basted in the familiar and future simultaneously.
Santa Monica is one of those cities that embody some of the best the Angelinos have to offer. People wake up daily to the majesty that is the beach and the smorgasbord of characters that make the place so colorful. It is a mélange of old, new and ‘tween commingling in harmonious rhythm without losing their autonomy. Santa Monica an eco-friendly, neighborhood where most people really know your name and often genuinely care how you are. Returning to my old haunts and home, I came across so many friends who immediately stopped everything to exchange morsels of our journeys even thought I arrived unannounced – that is Santa Monica in my nutshell.
It was marvelous to be surrounded by people who walk or bike to the neighbourhood grocer or street market and find every occasion and opportunity to have an adventure. That sweet place in Santa Monica that exists outside of the promenade phenom filled a hunger in me that I cultivated in Europe and abroad. Its aromas and appetizing lifestyle are tempting me to overindulge, but with Amsterdam calling me home it offers me a taste of something that I long to feast upon.
Apt I shared with my sister
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
My Next Move
It is official! I am moving to Amsterdam. If you would like to on my mailing list, please send me a message with your direct email address with subscribe in the subject.
Blessings, Alycia
Blessings, Alycia
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Log 43 B-day
Today is my 43rd birthday and I have to say that I am glad that I am in my 40’s. There is a liberation and freedom that comes with this decade that I would not trade with any 20 something. I realize that this is strange praise coming from someone who is in California, the US Capital of perpetual youth or as I like to call it Forever Plastic Surgery (you have to whisper the Surgery for full effect), but I have to say that each time I circle the sun, I discover more about the mystery that is life and myself.
For example, the older I get I seem to be able to shed the stigma of desiring the approval of the public at large. The opinion of people who love me and whom I love are what matters most. To me this is a gift, because this tight knot group of freaks that I call friends and colleagues want me to be my best and will say and do whatever they deem necessary for that to happen just because they love me – I do not need to decipher any hidden motives or sales pitch. It is just enough to know that people think I am cool to be with so they hang around and I tend to allow others not to like me and elect to be somewhere else. See simple.
Other things I seem to become reality to me as I mature into my me-ness.
Being able to see your idiosyncrasies as a something to laugh at with others as opposed to feeling inadequate.
Being able to see that there is a balance between things you do well and things that are best left up to others. Who wants to spend time and energy doing something that you can celebrate in another who is outstanding.
True friendship is something to ever be taken lightly not held too tight.
There are many more but maybe some of you are a bit too young for them yet. Besides it is part of the your personal journey to discover some of your own pearls as you submerge yourself in the treasure we call life.
Many Blessing to you all from the happily aging birthday girl!
For example, the older I get I seem to be able to shed the stigma of desiring the approval of the public at large. The opinion of people who love me and whom I love are what matters most. To me this is a gift, because this tight knot group of freaks that I call friends and colleagues want me to be my best and will say and do whatever they deem necessary for that to happen just because they love me – I do not need to decipher any hidden motives or sales pitch. It is just enough to know that people think I am cool to be with so they hang around and I tend to allow others not to like me and elect to be somewhere else. See simple.
Other things I seem to become reality to me as I mature into my me-ness.
Being able to see your idiosyncrasies as a something to laugh at with others as opposed to feeling inadequate.
Being able to see that there is a balance between things you do well and things that are best left up to others. Who wants to spend time and energy doing something that you can celebrate in another who is outstanding.
True friendship is something to ever be taken lightly not held too tight.
There are many more but maybe some of you are a bit too young for them yet. Besides it is part of the your personal journey to discover some of your own pearls as you submerge yourself in the treasure we call life.
Many Blessing to you all from the happily aging birthday girl!
Monday, 11 February 2008
Hello Goodbye
I spent most of last week at the International Mentoring Network’s Humana 02.08 conference. I had a wonderful time and met some amazing people who are asking questions about how the post-modern church will shape the future and how we might charter a path to get there. I was truly inspired to meet people working all over America, Switzerland, Germany, Scotland and England who are seeking in the same heart, but have so many ways to express the love of God for the world, creation, and mankind. This gathering was also coupled a few music events that featured Jettison Never.
There was also a reunion of with what my new friend Derek (a.k.a “Tangent”) coined as the “trifecta,” Shawna Snow, Ali Watson and myself. It was the first time we had been together since I left Europe. There were many good times filled with deep conversations and lots of laughter. It was great to see them but it broke my heart for us to separate again after such a sweet reunion.
I flew home on Sunday, to make the acquaintance of my new electronic friend, my MacBook Pro! I have not given her a name (yes it is a her – there are ways to tell) but I prefer the American Indian approach where we wait until the character of the child reveals itself.
Last but not least I have had to face one of my hardest goodbyes to date. I sent in my letter of resignation to 13thFLOOR on today. This decision was labored in prayers, consultation and guidance. I will really miss the people and the love I encountered in South Africa. I will miss the students most of all and I am grateful for every second I spent with them. I am happy that what they taught me will always be with me. I think I grew in ways that would not have been possible without being there. South Africa was truly mother Africa to me and she nursed me in ways that I never would have dreamed.
Right now I feel like so much is going in and out of my life. I feel like the moment something ends then something new begins and vice versa. The Beatles' song Hello, Good Bye seems fitting, so I will leave you with this.
I spent most of last week at the International Mentoring Network’s Humana 02.08 conference. I had a wonderful time and met some amazing people who are asking questions about how the post-modern church will shape the future and how we might charter a path to get there. I was truly inspired to meet people working all over America, Switzerland, Germany, Scotland and England who are seeking in the same heart, but have so many ways to express the love of God for the world, creation, and mankind. This gathering was also coupled a few music events that featured Jettison Never.
There was also a reunion of with what my new friend Derek (a.k.a “Tangent”) coined as the “trifecta,” Shawna Snow, Ali Watson and myself. It was the first time we had been together since I left Europe. There were many good times filled with deep conversations and lots of laughter. It was great to see them but it broke my heart for us to separate again after such a sweet reunion.
I flew home on Sunday, to make the acquaintance of my new electronic friend, my MacBook Pro! I have not given her a name (yes it is a her – there are ways to tell) but I prefer the American Indian approach where we wait until the character of the child reveals itself.
Last but not least I have had to face one of my hardest goodbyes to date. I sent in my letter of resignation to 13thFLOOR on today. This decision was labored in prayers, consultation and guidance. I will really miss the people and the love I encountered in South Africa. I will miss the students most of all and I am grateful for every second I spent with them. I am happy that what they taught me will always be with me. I think I grew in ways that would not have been possible without being there. South Africa was truly mother Africa to me and she nursed me in ways that I never would have dreamed.
Right now I feel like so much is going in and out of my life. I feel like the moment something ends then something new begins and vice versa. The Beatles' song Hello, Good Bye seems fitting, so I will leave you with this.
You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Sunday, 27 January 2008
Shocked
Spending many years going to and living in countries outside the US prepares you for diversity in culture, language and standards of living; what is does not prepare you for is returning home. Returning to the scene of the crime, which was my former life in America, has left me flummoxed at best.
When I travel to a new country I tend to read about the place, sample the foods and experience the literature of those nations before I ever set foot on terra firma. Such activities feed my inner nerd and help me dive deeper into different societies and resurface with a richer understanding and love for the paradoxes and people of those nations. This exercise has lead to many years of enjoyment even though I was for all intensive purposes out of my element. What I forgot to do was apply these same practices in an intentional manner before returning to the US.
After spending my first weeks in America, I have to honestly say that I have suffered the most extreme culture shock I can remember. It is not that I have gone native in other countries, because I am very much an adopted outsider at best, but I realize that I am have also become and outside to the country of my birth. I did not prepare myself for stepping into an election year, Reality TV overload, the writer’s strike, new slang, celebrity focus, or US lifestyle. Sure I considered my friends lives being different and having to adapt to changes there, but the rest hit me like the wall of humidity one encounters when you leave the airport in Manila. I was so not prepared for this!
I am coping with all of this by laughing at myself and a limited sampling of US news. I tend to chuckle when I find myself looking for light switches in odd places and occasionally I pause to determine which side of the car is the driver’s side. I try to remind myself that what I see on TV is only part of the reality of America and choose to dive deeper into literature and intentional relationships. I do, however, find that I must resurface for air more often as I try to swim through American culture in 2008.
One thing I must say is that I have amazing friends. Time does not change or warp those heart friends that just get me and love me for the mess that I am. They are the core group of people who see me for who I am not for where I have been or not been in the grand scheme of things. Somehow we continue to see each other and that always makes me feel at home no matter where in the world I find myself.
When I travel to a new country I tend to read about the place, sample the foods and experience the literature of those nations before I ever set foot on terra firma. Such activities feed my inner nerd and help me dive deeper into different societies and resurface with a richer understanding and love for the paradoxes and people of those nations. This exercise has lead to many years of enjoyment even though I was for all intensive purposes out of my element. What I forgot to do was apply these same practices in an intentional manner before returning to the US.
After spending my first weeks in America, I have to honestly say that I have suffered the most extreme culture shock I can remember. It is not that I have gone native in other countries, because I am very much an adopted outsider at best, but I realize that I am have also become and outside to the country of my birth. I did not prepare myself for stepping into an election year, Reality TV overload, the writer’s strike, new slang, celebrity focus, or US lifestyle. Sure I considered my friends lives being different and having to adapt to changes there, but the rest hit me like the wall of humidity one encounters when you leave the airport in Manila. I was so not prepared for this!
I am coping with all of this by laughing at myself and a limited sampling of US news. I tend to chuckle when I find myself looking for light switches in odd places and occasionally I pause to determine which side of the car is the driver’s side. I try to remind myself that what I see on TV is only part of the reality of America and choose to dive deeper into literature and intentional relationships. I do, however, find that I must resurface for air more often as I try to swim through American culture in 2008.
One thing I must say is that I have amazing friends. Time does not change or warp those heart friends that just get me and love me for the mess that I am. They are the core group of people who see me for who I am not for where I have been or not been in the grand scheme of things. Somehow we continue to see each other and that always makes me feel at home no matter where in the world I find myself.
Friday, 4 January 2008
Miraculous Moments
A series of moments strung together form the incandescent splendor that we call life. Every one is unique much like pearls held together by the beautiful clasps that are both the beginning and the ending of our visit here on earth. Moments become memories we can gaze at and hold in place as we eagerly anticipate the next gem to be added. Often though in our rush to attain the next “thing” we miss the beauty of what we are experiencing in the now. There is a joy to inhabiting the preciousness of each bead before adding it to our collective memory. To be able to touch, tastes, see, hear and smell everything locked within is an opportunity to dance with the miraculous in the daily and mundane. For example:
When ferrying across the English Channel, I sat reading a book I eagerly desired to finish that day. I can easily tune out the world when I have book in front of me. It is one of my favorite escapes and soothers of my soul, when I am a bit frazzled. I was reading a book that so echoed my personal feelings, self-examination and transitioning, so I was dining on every word on the page trying to savor each insight and digesting many revealed truths. I came to the place where the author used a word that fit me perfectly and in a way I felt discovered. I was about to dive back into the book when I was interrupted by a moment.
Sitting at the table next to ours was a family with two ever moving boys under the ages of 4. The parents were exhausted from chasing after their children over the vastness of dining area; we were 25 minutes away from ending a two hours journey and the parents were desperately clinging to the promise that they could soon re-contain their energetic children in the car. The youngest who was about 18 months old, decided to play this game where he would jump from a chair onto the booth, peek over at me then laugh ….loudly.
His laughter robbed me of my focus. I smiled at him and laughed, which only seemed to make him laugh and scream with glee. I laughed too and his excitement over my half-baked attention. He turned away and left the booth and I sighed before bowing my head and descending back to the words. I scanned the page to find where I stopped, found it and started to – peels of laughter echoed in my ears, the boy was back staring at me waiting. So I looked up smiled at him and he just squealed and flashed me the sweetest smile. In that moment he was offering me something that was fleeting and beautiful in his playfulness. My book was looming on my lap, but here was this little person offering me an opportunity to celebrate the epiphany I gleaned only seconds before. So I decided to hold the moment and drink it in. The little one was delighted that he found a fresh audience for his antics and kept repeating his trek between the chair and the booth.
After her sons fifth journey and escalating laughter, the mom leaned over to her equally exhausted husband and suggested that he stop their so I could read my book. I had my out, but I decided to decline. I mentioned that playing this game was more fun than reading, and it was true. This little kid opened the door to remaining in the joy of now, to capitalize on the joy I experienced from reading. He was the cherry on top and I decided to enjoy it rather than plough on to the next ah-ha. We laughed and giggled for about 20 minutes, next thing I knew the captain was making the announcement of our docking in Dover. The moment was closing, but it was fully experienced. Just before the family rushed back to their car, they walked around to the table and wished me a Merry Christmas. I felt a rush of something that was powerful but sweet.
As they walked away, I thought about what I could have missed if I stuck to my plan of finishing the book. The book would be with me for as long as I desired, but the shared laughter was only offered once. It made me think how much I miss when I am focused on the incoming goals, experience or project, oblivious to what is happening in my universe in this moment at this time. It is nothing I do not know or teach even, but that little boy gave me my best Christmas gift; a reminder to relish every opportunity to celebrate what I am experiencing. That opens the door to discovering the miraculous waiting to be found in the moment.
When ferrying across the English Channel, I sat reading a book I eagerly desired to finish that day. I can easily tune out the world when I have book in front of me. It is one of my favorite escapes and soothers of my soul, when I am a bit frazzled. I was reading a book that so echoed my personal feelings, self-examination and transitioning, so I was dining on every word on the page trying to savor each insight and digesting many revealed truths. I came to the place where the author used a word that fit me perfectly and in a way I felt discovered. I was about to dive back into the book when I was interrupted by a moment.
Sitting at the table next to ours was a family with two ever moving boys under the ages of 4. The parents were exhausted from chasing after their children over the vastness of dining area; we were 25 minutes away from ending a two hours journey and the parents were desperately clinging to the promise that they could soon re-contain their energetic children in the car. The youngest who was about 18 months old, decided to play this game where he would jump from a chair onto the booth, peek over at me then laugh ….loudly.
His laughter robbed me of my focus. I smiled at him and laughed, which only seemed to make him laugh and scream with glee. I laughed too and his excitement over my half-baked attention. He turned away and left the booth and I sighed before bowing my head and descending back to the words. I scanned the page to find where I stopped, found it and started to – peels of laughter echoed in my ears, the boy was back staring at me waiting. So I looked up smiled at him and he just squealed and flashed me the sweetest smile. In that moment he was offering me something that was fleeting and beautiful in his playfulness. My book was looming on my lap, but here was this little person offering me an opportunity to celebrate the epiphany I gleaned only seconds before. So I decided to hold the moment and drink it in. The little one was delighted that he found a fresh audience for his antics and kept repeating his trek between the chair and the booth.
After her sons fifth journey and escalating laughter, the mom leaned over to her equally exhausted husband and suggested that he stop their so I could read my book. I had my out, but I decided to decline. I mentioned that playing this game was more fun than reading, and it was true. This little kid opened the door to remaining in the joy of now, to capitalize on the joy I experienced from reading. He was the cherry on top and I decided to enjoy it rather than plough on to the next ah-ha. We laughed and giggled for about 20 minutes, next thing I knew the captain was making the announcement of our docking in Dover. The moment was closing, but it was fully experienced. Just before the family rushed back to their car, they walked around to the table and wished me a Merry Christmas. I felt a rush of something that was powerful but sweet.
As they walked away, I thought about what I could have missed if I stuck to my plan of finishing the book. The book would be with me for as long as I desired, but the shared laughter was only offered once. It made me think how much I miss when I am focused on the incoming goals, experience or project, oblivious to what is happening in my universe in this moment at this time. It is nothing I do not know or teach even, but that little boy gave me my best Christmas gift; a reminder to relish every opportunity to celebrate what I am experiencing. That opens the door to discovering the miraculous waiting to be found in the moment.
Thursday, 20 December 2007
Ending Well
So much has happened that it seems crazy to even try to explain. Let’s just say that I have had a wonderful time in Netherlands and I am sad that it is coming to an end. I have learned so much about myself and I have been doing my best to take advantage of this time of rest and exploration, but frankly I have also been having so much fun.
I have been to Köln, Germany, Christmas parties, celebrating birthdays, visiting cathedrals, and dancing with gypsies interlaced with a plethora of laughs. I have to say that all of these things have happened randomly, without provocation. Through all of this I have made some amazing friends, some
I feel I am destined to know for long time, others it may have been for this time to help me hold together my breaking heart while it healed. Although I said many tear-filled goodbyes yesterday, I am so grateful to all the gentle souls that I was able to love and who loved me. Maybe it was fate, or luck, but I have to say it was amazing.
I hope that you have as much fun in the new year as I had in the last few weeks.
Monday, 10 December 2007
Remembering Connie
Two days ago would have been a friend’s 43rd birthday and last September would have marked 19 years of friendship. Sadly my friend Connie passed away two years ago.
I always remembered her birthday because it is on the 8th of December, the Holy Day of the Immaculate Conception of Mary (10 years of Catholic education sticks with you). We always had a chuckle at such a coincidence because believe me we were not saints! Connie was the kind of friend who loved life and laughter, she always lived full of zest and joie de vie, I guess that is why it is so hard to accept that so many of her last years shared by an entity that slowly stole her life. My dear friend Connie struggled with Hodgkin’s Disease for many years before it took her last breathe.
I could always count on her to listen and make me feel that I could call on some secret confidence. For years I watched her pull courage out of her sleeve on numerous occasions - she was one of the most self-assured people I have ever met. She never claimed to have all the answers, but she was determined to grapple with the questions until a solution materialized. When we were in our teens her passion was to be a great mother, and was not afraid to let people know even though we grew up in an environment that told us girls that we could do and be anything. She somehow knew that she was signing up for the toughest job on earth, and made no apologies when people tried to get her aspire to loftier pursuits. Connie did go on to get a degree and work with mentally handicapped adults, but that were just what she did not who she was. She loved her children with all her heart and excelled as a matriarch. Connie also valiantly faced teenage pregnancy and adoption in high school, a painful annulment and single-parenting before she began her fight against cancer.
Most of all I miss her laugh. Connie was filled with so much of it and our friend Jennifer and I loved to coax it out of her. We were known to spontaneously combust with giddiness as we constantly found ways to entertain ourselves and others. Mostly we were just three silly girls, who used our laughter to carry us through the pain and hardships of teenage misery and young adulthood. Even latter in life when you found two or three of us together there was always laughter as we remembered the great mouse burger caper, being locked in the choir closet and late night excursions after pizza night. We always talked about the serious things of life too, but all too often the eyes of children and spouses rolled as they tried to decipher a story between the peals of chuckles and tears. It kept the little women in us alive and allowed us to touch something innocent within our hearts as we faced a world that was not always kind to dreamers.
For the past two days, I have been thinking about my friend and missing her voice and smile. I was fortunate enough to speak with her about a week before she died and I can remember the conversation like it was yesterday. Her breathing was laboured but she wanted to talk and share what had conspired in our lives in the months since we seen each other last. We shared life our while expressing gratitude and love. She sounded so strong at the time recently returning home with a good prognosis; I never thought that I would not see her again.
I guess I am missing her for selfish reasons as I am in transition and she was one of those people you could just laugh with about your predicament. Today I caught myself laughing out loud as I recalled some of our stunts, right in the middle of considering some proposals for my future. I must have needed to take the edge of the stress, and like a true friend she was there in my heart, helping me to laugh at my fate and reminding me to enjoy where I am at this moment.
I miss you girlfriend.
Saturday, 8 December 2007
From Delusion to Decision
I am re-reading Richard Dawkins, “The God Delusion” this week; this second go round only confirms what I felt after reading the lengthy introduction to his premise.
I am really thankful to for the professor’s honest missional tome on how this atheist views God in any form as immaterial. Unlike many theocentric writers, Dawkins was honest about his desire to convert you over to his side based upon his research and personal experience. I cannot tell you how many times I role my eyes when I pick up a book on a subject like leadership penned by a Christian compatriots who claims in his introduction that he uses Christian principles throughout the book but has no intention to sway the readers to his viewpoint. Sceptical you may say, but I tire of the subsequent use of the what I would call “Christianese” to the point that I feel like I am sitting through a sales pitch for condos in Florida while on a “free vacation.” If you want to sell me something come right out and say it, and Dawkins did.
He goes head to head with some of the more traditional tenants of apologetics and I have to say that I found myself agreeing with him more often than not. After I shared laughs with his take on what I could only see as misguided or outdated attempts to prove God is really with us, I also felt a twinge of shame. This book could another public nail in the coffin of the rational evangelical movement of Christendom that a large portion of the body is determined to resuscitate. Somehow Christianity went from a community with a purpose, to an institution, to a well guarded rationale that is deemed untouchable. Is belief so fragile that we feel the need to exempt it from testing and reshaping of our perspective? Weren’t the Bereans commended for testing the scriptures in order to get at the truth?
Many believers celebrate when science proves itself erroneous, but doesn’t that make us a bit hypocritical? After all believers endorsed crusades, slavery, the flat earth theory and much more in the name of God’s providence and gladly excommunicated, killed or silenced anyone bold enough to stand against those beliefs. Many of those traditions or schools of thought have proven false and yet there are many heels are dug firmly in the ground. Dawkins' book reminds me that we are living in a time when absolute ideas are being shattered and to speak with certainty regarding a matter of belief may be irresponsible. Faith is believing in what one cannot see or prove, so should we be so fearful of being challenged? Can’t we just say we do not know, when that is simply the case, they way that science does when she cannot find the proof for a well thought out theory?
He also addresses children, stating that until a person is of an age of critical thinking and rationale one cannot use the label Muslim, Christian, or Jewish children so easily. They can be children of Jewish parents, but in the matters of faith, they have not really chosen. I have to agree with this premise as well. Faith is not something you are born with, it is something you choose on a continual basis. It only makes sense to me that one cannot really make a choice without understanding what they are choosing to embrace and what they are letting go of. I know that it may not be possible to grasp every consequence of a decision at the time it is made, but an informed decision is made based on some sort of assessment.
Faith as I understand it is living and dynamic and should not be taken lightly nor is it for the faint-hearted. It is something other, that I am not sure I can quite explain. Even though I am making a second pass at this book, I have to say that I chose to believe, even after Mr. Dawkins’ valiant attempt to sway me otherwise. But I can say that reading his book has changed the way I believe and the way I view people who do not share those beliefs. It also affirmed my faith, yes I said affirmed, because it challenged what I accepted as truth while also giving me the words to back some things I believed to be rubbish. Even though we are still approaching life from different perspectives and disagree about some things, I did see “The God Delusion” as an invitation to re-examine faith, enter into a dialogue and an opportunity to dispense of some dead wood. It also gave me a chance to challenge my faith and decide to hold onto to it, in spite of how others might view my decisions. That is something that Dawkins’ may not have perceived, but it is the effect it had on this foolish follower.
Tuesday, 4 December 2007
On my way to Brussels
Sunday morning I packed my bags and joined the 13thFLOOR team at Crossroads Amsterdam for the youth service. As I walked through the foyer I was greeted by familiar faces and warm smiles. It has been a few years since I had been there and many of the “kids” I left behind were in leadership or were blossoming teens.
13thFLOOR was given the entire youth service for the day. Warren was our guide for the journey to discover “What is sacred?” In between the teachings were performances that illustrated and stretched the participants view of what can be considered sacred. I was put in the hot seat by my beloved adopted son, Warren, as part of a panel. The youth were mostly quiet during the discussion time, but the flurry of questions afterward indicated that they were challenged by what they saw and heard.
We piled (literally) into the cars and vans to meet the rest of the team who had been at Hilversum ICC for their morning service. After packing equipment and having lunch, we headed out for Brussels. Now we had a few false starts do not having a clear picture of how to get back to the roadway, a van getting stuck in the mud (the one I was riding in) and our translators wallet being locked in the church, but we eventually made it to Operation Mobilizations headquarters in Brussels near the airport.
It was only after we arrived here, that I started to realize that I might not see many of them again or for a very long time. The end of tour has always been a painful transition time for me. Saying good bye and releasing people you have loved and cared for into the unknown is paradoxical for me. I am excited to see them go off on their own and blaze their own trails, but I also want to hold them close and protect them from the trials they will have to overcome as well. It is the same way I feel when I watch nature documentaries about animal migration, you know that they all will not make it to the greener pastures strong and vigorous. But the journey has to be made nonetheless, it is in their nature. This time had the additional sting of me being released from them also to pray about and pursue what is next for me in life. I also felt like I was being set adrift and in many ways I am. Every interaction became precious no matter how frivolous the activity. I wanted to store up all the laughter, words and tears I could to use as a flotation devise until the next wave comes to rush me to shores I am destined to walk upon.
Monday morning the team did a ministry show for the staff and friends of Operation Mobilization. Warren spoke about how being in the centre of God’s will is often a place where safety is not an option. Often it is a wild ride that will leave you clinging to the very life you chose to give away. I believe that it was an eye-opening conversation for many of the people there. It especially made and impression on one young woman in particular.
She came to the base to serve and wrestle over her relationship with God. It was also a good time for her to step away from family and friends to seek out her purpose and passions. A few of us were able to share from our experiences in a way that left her feeling encouraged. In moments like these I can not help but see random encounters like these as anything less evidence of something or someone divine in the universe, because this was divine providence. I had not plan to go to Brussels until Friday evening and she had no idea that several weeks after arriving at her destination where people from a foreign country would be the source of meeting some of her deepest longings. How could we have known or planned it if we coconsciously tried to make it happen. To me this went beyond coincidence and providence.
Tuesday morning the team made it’s way to Brugge and I was taken to the train station. My heart still aches from this parting. As I entered the station, I sighed and realised I was again walking way from another season in my life that I was best left to its place in my memory. I can stand at a distance and glance back upon my times with the 13thFLOOR students, but I know I will never return there the way I entered.
13thFLOOR was given the entire youth service for the day. Warren was our guide for the journey to discover “What is sacred?” In between the teachings were performances that illustrated and stretched the participants view of what can be considered sacred. I was put in the hot seat by my beloved adopted son, Warren, as part of a panel. The youth were mostly quiet during the discussion time, but the flurry of questions afterward indicated that they were challenged by what they saw and heard.
We piled (literally) into the cars and vans to meet the rest of the team who had been at Hilversum ICC for their morning service. After packing equipment and having lunch, we headed out for Brussels. Now we had a few false starts do not having a clear picture of how to get back to the roadway, a van getting stuck in the mud (the one I was riding in) and our translators wallet being locked in the church, but we eventually made it to Operation Mobilizations headquarters in Brussels near the airport.
It was only after we arrived here, that I started to realize that I might not see many of them again or for a very long time. The end of tour has always been a painful transition time for me. Saying good bye and releasing people you have loved and cared for into the unknown is paradoxical for me. I am excited to see them go off on their own and blaze their own trails, but I also want to hold them close and protect them from the trials they will have to overcome as well. It is the same way I feel when I watch nature documentaries about animal migration, you know that they all will not make it to the greener pastures strong and vigorous. But the journey has to be made nonetheless, it is in their nature. This time had the additional sting of me being released from them also to pray about and pursue what is next for me in life. I also felt like I was being set adrift and in many ways I am. Every interaction became precious no matter how frivolous the activity. I wanted to store up all the laughter, words and tears I could to use as a flotation devise until the next wave comes to rush me to shores I am destined to walk upon.
Monday morning the team did a ministry show for the staff and friends of Operation Mobilization. Warren spoke about how being in the centre of God’s will is often a place where safety is not an option. Often it is a wild ride that will leave you clinging to the very life you chose to give away. I believe that it was an eye-opening conversation for many of the people there. It especially made and impression on one young woman in particular.
She came to the base to serve and wrestle over her relationship with God. It was also a good time for her to step away from family and friends to seek out her purpose and passions. A few of us were able to share from our experiences in a way that left her feeling encouraged. In moments like these I can not help but see random encounters like these as anything less evidence of something or someone divine in the universe, because this was divine providence. I had not plan to go to Brussels until Friday evening and she had no idea that several weeks after arriving at her destination where people from a foreign country would be the source of meeting some of her deepest longings. How could we have known or planned it if we coconsciously tried to make it happen. To me this went beyond coincidence and providence.
Tuesday morning the team made it’s way to Brugge and I was taken to the train station. My heart still aches from this parting. As I entered the station, I sighed and realised I was again walking way from another season in my life that I was best left to its place in my memory. I can stand at a distance and glance back upon my times with the 13thFLOOR students, but I know I will never return there the way I entered.
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Last Days of Ignorance
Saturday marks the beginning of my 3rd month of sabbatical and I am not sure that I am quite ready for it to begin.
The first two months of my time off were to be spent without serious contemplation of my future endeavors. It was to be a time of rest, learning, writing and reflection and I have been pretty vigilant about maintaining this boundary even when presented with enticing offers. Now I am anticipating a struggle that I am not looking forward to. Figuring out what this next phase of my life will hold is intimidating. I have no idea how long it will take only that it is a journey I must start. Time is pressing because I cannot remain on sabbatical forever and frankly I think I would have been bored if I were left without some target to aim towards. I think I fear disappointing people, because it is inevitable that someone will come away with that experience, if I do not disappoint myself.
So it begins…soon.
But today I will enjoy the frivolity of suspended choice and the comfort of words on the page. Trying, with minimal effort, to push back the questions seeping into my consciousness.
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Familiar but different!
Today I rode around some of my old haunts in Den Haag and it was a surreal experience. The last time I was here was with Kelley for some meetings so I did not really have time to go out and visit some of the places that I would spend time visiting when I was here before with Christian Associates.
I went for a ride past one of the squares and came across a restaurant that had amazing BBQ and that says a lot considering I was taken to the place by Texans! I was introduced by my good friends the Strauss’. They were such a large part of my experiences in Den Haag and are some of the most generous and caring people I know. I felt a twinge of sadness knowing that they were no longer live here, and some how it felt wrong to visit the place with out their company, even though I was feeling a bit peckish at the time.
After some errands I made my way through Haagse Bos, the park that holds the Queen’s house. It still holds a magical quality for me as I drink in the luscious greens and moss. I used to stay across the street from this forest and walk its paths daily. It still rejuvenated me as it would then. I love the way the tree canopy hugs itself around you while you are stunned by the emerald green moss that dances across the water ways that twist their way though the park. It is a beauty that I always love to return to. I realize how much I have missed being close to the recreational core of myself and how far from it I have been in recent years due to location, work and lack of optimal situations. Although it was a crashing reality that confronted me, it was a loving nudge from within that I need to restore this again in my life.
I shot down a main street and turned onto Thersiastraat, where I did most of my daily shopping when in town. Most of the shops were still there and a few had changed hands. I received warm welcomes from old friends at the hair salon and the Turkish restaurant. It was funny to hear the variations of my name that they could recall and I am sure they chucked at me as I tried to remember the Dutch that had escaped me. Exchanging stories of our past days since we met last made me realize how much time had escaped me.
My last stop was my old office 249 Bezuidenhoutsweg - for some reason that address is indelible in my memory. I parked the bike and rang the bell for the first time in many years and was let in by a confused Kevin, but soon saw familiar faces that were surprised by my unannounced visit. It was good to see Al and hear about his upcoming wedding to a colleague and meet her for the first time. I got a quick glimpse of Rogier and hope to spend some time with him and his family before I leave the country. The office had been rearranged and redecorated. As I looked around so much was different and changed since I last walked these halls, but then again some things were still the same, like Al’s office and Rogier’s focus.
Today was very nostalgic and sweet. In a way it was a homecoming, a completion of the circle that solidified my love for the European continent. Although it was nice to visit this place again I also know that it is what once was and can not be duplicated. It is always good to be reminded of where you come from and take a peak at the how you have grown and remember what you must take with you in the moment. Otherwise what is meant to be a sweet memory can easily turn sour if we choose to hold tightly to the past.
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