Discovering the Miracle of Eucharisteo

A word out of your mouth may seem of no account, but it can accomplish nearly anything — or destroy it!  It only takes a spark, remember, to set off a forest fire. A careless or wrongly placed word out of your mouth can do that. By our speech we can ruin the world, turn harmony to chaos, throw mud on a reputation, send the whole world up in smoke and go up in smoke with it.*

This is the truth – and I know it all too well. My family knows it all too well. My daughter knows it all too well. Why is it, that with all my best intentions, the ones I love the most inevitably bear the harshest brunt of my worst failings? Tensions and my temper – already primed like a flash grenade – have not always done well in these past several years as we have struggled in and out of stability and in the ever-looming face of the unknown. They run high and on a hair trigger – ready to detonate at the slightest provocation. And like a flash grenade can impair vision, cause hearing loss, disorient, and upend balance for long, aching moments.

But things are changing. The tides are turning. The Spirit is moving.

A friend’s Facebook post led me to the discovery of Ann Voskamp and her book 1000 Gifts, and the Joy Dare. Which led me to her blog: aholyexperience, which led to the writing community, Allume; which led to the online community, (in)courage; which led to oh my word – a re-thinking, a re-focusing – a re-imagining if you will – of my own writing, my own blogging, my own living. And me starting to make my own list. And counting. And thanking. And discovering Eucharisteo – which is giving thanks and grace and joy all wrapped up together. And trying to live fully in the midst of my unending inexplicable mess and my desert wanderings. Striving to remember what Ann writes: “thanksgiving comes before the miracle.” And then …

One night after work, instead of a sweet, happy grin peeking in through the window to pick me up, there was the saddest little face, all full of tears and woe. I walked out into the cold and dark and she was stricken and torn, and could barely talk about it. I tried to coax it out and puzzle out what was wrong, but she kept crying pulling away and saying: but you’ll be so mad. And I don’t want you to be mad.



By the talented Ursula Abresch

And then my heart broke again. Because I know what I look like (what I sound like)  – what I’ve looked like – when I go off the rails and get mad and blow up and my tongue loses control and I send the whole world up in smoke with my anger. I know. So I just pulled her close and said, tell me, just as soft as I could. And she did.

And then there was the miracle.

Because maybe three or four weeks before, I probably would have sparked mad and gone off the rails over nothing; turning harmony to chaos. But somehow, I just held her close. And loved her. And said that it was okay. And that I wasn’t mad – really – could she really see that I wasn’t mad. And that I loved her and that it was going to be okay. And there was grace pouring down and I said thank you again. Breathed out thank you again up into the deep blue of the night sky to God who was working and mending. And prayed that it wouldn’t just be this one time. That He’d keep fixing the broken bits of me.

And He is. Because the miracle happened again. Just this morning. When she decided to put every bit of the whole new tube of toothpaste down the drain. To see if it would clean the drain. Maybe that will make no sense to you – why get mad about toothpaste? (Because it’s wasteful. And pointless.) And when you’re living on the edge of stability and cutting every corner’s corner, every penny counts. A new tube of toothpaste is supposed to last for at least a month and be one less thing you have to spend your tiny bits of money on the next time you’re at the store. And yes. I probably would have gone all flash bang grenade on that one too. But I didn’t. I actually laughed. Out loud. Tweaked her nose, made her smile, and said, silly girl, what did you do that for? Breathed oh, thank you Lord again. And that was a grace note of joy all in itself. 

*James 3: 5-6ish MSG

A Way Through Wondering

It came. Another phone call with not good news. Not devastating news. Not life threatening news. Just not good news. In a long, long line of not good news. I felt it like a punch in my gut – stronger than a catch in my throat. I wanted to freeze time right there so I could crawl under my desk and just sob. And to be honest – kick something. Very hard.

A friend had recently sent a passage from the Psalms to me and the verses immediately sprang to mind:

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?

That’s what I would be crying out from under my desk: How. Long?

There are times in our lives that God takes us on a path that makes no sense to us. We can see nothing. The way is not clear. And then things are resolved, and in retrospect – with the clear view of hindsight – we can see the orchestrations of His hand. I’ve been there. I’ve been through. I’ve seen.

But right now, I’m in the midst of a path I cannot discern – it’s the longest one He’s asked me to walk so far in this life. And it hurts. Every once in a while I get a glimpse of a miracle; a fleeting glance of something amazing revealed. But so many times, I just struggle along asking, “how long?” I write about this path as my desert. My journey of dryness. My discovery of dependence. My revelation of dying. Because there’s so much in me that needs to be stripped away. I need so much to be pared down to what Christ will reveal in me. So I can hear Him speak clearly. So I can become what I am meant to be.

God speaks in so many ways, and in my devotional this morning were words that were meant for a day such as this – a day with not good news:

Your sense of security must not rest in your possessions or in things going your way. I am training you to depend on Me alone, finding fulfillment in My Presence. This entails being satisfied with much or with little, accepting either as My will for the moment. Instead of grasping and controlling, you are learning to release and receive. Cultivate this receptive stance by trusting Me in every situation.

That would fairly cover so many of the things I struggle with. The things I need to let go of. The friend that sent me the Psalm reminded me that our God is large enough to bear our cries and our laments. He is large enough to survive our inconsistencies. He is large enough to carry our frustrations – and oh, help me – even our anger. If we remember to come back to Him with thanksgiving in our heart. Because we do not thank Him or Praise Him because of what He give us or does for us (although we can and surely do), but simply because of who He is. And so we can say with David,

But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the Lord,
because he has dealt bountifully with me

I am trying. Trying and learning to counteract bad news, heartache, frustration, and anger with thanksgiving. This is a tough lesson for me. And yet, the truth of it is in there: it is harder to remain angry or sad with thanksgiving in your heart.

Psalm verses from Psalm 13 (ESV). Devotional excerpt from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young

The Trick of Transparency

Lately, I’ve been challenged to be real. To be authentic. To be transparent. To be honest.

I’m laughing.  In that painful, reality-smacks-you-in-the-face kind of way.

I could have stopped that first sentence at “lately, I’ve been challenged.” And that’s exactly what makes the rest of it such a challenge. Or to not be so polite - so damn hard. Authenticity. Transparency. Honesty. Being real. It’s what so many of us want; what we're encouraged to strive for in our lives. But what happens when reality is too real. Too authentic? Let’s be honest – too scary? Can it be too real? Do you ever wonder, "will I be understood (accepted) if I let people see what really is real?"

It’s much easier to try and simulate real. To give an illustrious illusion of what real is – a measure of how much of our reality we think people around us can handle. Or me, speaking from my core – how much of my reality I think people can take before they take a real good look and run screaming from my presence. Because sometimes, I think that’s what would happen if I let everyone around me see what the real me actually looks like.

Am I willing to let go of this façade that friends and family have? I know what some think they see – I’ve played with the word brainstorming; done the exercises; tagged friends in the online games. Lovely, descriptive, admirable words come pouring back upon me like a shower of gifts: creative, loyal, driven, peaceful, resourceful, calming. You could almost imagine that I’m a nice person when you look at them. But I have hard time owning those words in their entirety. I don’t disavow them completely – because I’m striving to reach them. But I see others intertwined in their midst: darkness, frailty, brokenness, fractured incapability, lightning-fast impatience, and above all, a consuming anger that could set the world to flame. Would I still be loved and wanted if everyone around me could see the darkness that overwhelms me at times? It makes me a little bit mad to say, “Yes, I would care. Yes, I still want to be loved.”

At times – so much of the time. Lately – it’s all I can do to keep my head above water – to keep on breathing. To keep smiling. To keep going on. And so I’m trying to keep going. To keep moving forward. Because that’s what you do. You can’t stand still because then you just start sliding backwards. And the last place I need to go is back. In going forward, I am making intentional steps towards something more; something better. Taking my mess and making it matter.

I read recently that we need our messy stories. We need to write them and we need to share them. Because sharing them allows the Spirit of God to bind up our wounds and the wounds of those who read them and are impacted by them. But it's a risk – that trick of transparency – being brave enough to show your mess to the world. So I'm choosing to be brave – a little braver each day – a little braver each time I write. And trust that in revealing my own mess, somewhere, the Spirit will bind up a wound, and spill grace abundant into someone's life. Leaving them just a little bit less alone in their mess.

Crossroads

All this time, I’ve been thinking of it as stuck – as standing still.
As going nowhere.
Fussing and fretting and being so ANGRY about going nowhere. Not realizing in my own ignorance
that maybe going wasn’t what I needed.
Maybe it was deepening.
And that maybe I’ve been “standing still”
because I have roots that needed to sink in.
Stretching.
Reaching.
Exploring.
Strengthening.
Firming.
Making their way down into the depths of my foundation.
So I can stand.
So when it’s time for action again,
I will be growing – not just going.

a cry in the desert

is it a whirlwind?
is it a sandstorm?
or is it
just another
gust of wind in the desert?

thought i'd left the desert behind.
starkly bleached plains stretching to empty skies above
given way to
industrial soot. smog. Londontown.
the very dregs of survival.

so much so that my heart ached
and longed and called out for the desert.

its clean bare sweeps
more home than
towering darkening pyres.
iron. metal that rusts and grates
on my raw nerve endings
and fragile, fragmented heartstrings -
already worn parchment thin from being
stretched.

drawn out again
i find myself at the edge of the daily grind.

there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
but that light leads back to the desert.
the empty.
hungry.
thirsty desert.
where lessons in humility blister on my heel
and need is raw
and rich
and real
and alive
and neverending.

in quiet moments
i learned to love the desert.
found grace in the desert.
found the heart of my God in the desert.
found the voice that spoke to my soul
in times of need
and painful want.

there is so much want.
i want. we want. she wants.

i want to divest myself of all the wants
and simply be.

to discover the purity of
my mitochondrial existence
that comes
when want dies
when i die
when it is no longer i who live.

surrender

it's that simple.
so simple.
letting go.

unfolding. unbending. unclenching. unwinding.
let.
go.

i

can't.

or is it won't.
and until i do - then what?
more storm? more vortex?

there's no going back now.
it has begun.
the choice is made.

it is the desert
and the still small voice
in the midst of the storm
that will quiet me
and sustain me
through whatever's next on this passage.

this journey
into the heart 
of letting go.

Step Two

And so it begins again.
The joy and terror of everything being new
and fresh.
But really just new.

To you.

Square one
will always be
square one
no matter where you land.

There will always be adjustments:
the might have beens;
the things we miss;
the things we left behind.

But truth –
(and a wide open door)
are not something to pass up
when all signs point in that direction.

So here we are

(inhale – exhale – repeat as necessary)

Signs of life are returning
where there have been none
for far too long.

I can hardly wait.
There is more to come.

The Legitimacy of Words

During a downtime or lunchtime - I'm not sure which - this past week, I skimmed an article on new words that had been added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary this year. I love that the process is described almost as a hunting expedition; something exotic and slightly forbidden. Like a safari. Merriam-Webster's Peter Sokolowski speaks of reading through various materials just looking for new words. Or better yet, looking "for words in 'their natural habitat for real evidence of the language in use.'" These words are selected for their frequency and new meanings and show how our language and the meaning of words evolves from the concrete to the abstract; from the literal to the metaphorical. So what fierce, fearsome, and worthy trophies did this safari of words return this year?

aha moment n (1939) : a moment of sudden realization, inspiration, insight, recognition, or comprehension [Oprah Winfrey's signature phrase] — She's conquered television, magazine publishing, is a national and international icon. And now she has her signature phrase in the dictionary. I guess this answers the question, "what do you get for the woman who has everything?"

earworm n (1802) 1 : corn earworm 2 : a song or melody that keeps repeating in one’s mind ["this summer's example being the inescapable Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen."] — You'll notice 1802 listed in parentheses here. That would be the original entry in the dictionary. You know, when it actually referred to an actual bug. It was curious that it took several "next" pages on a Google search to get to a description of the earworm bug. As in ugly hatching larva bug. Prior entries introduced DJ Earworm and information on how to get earworms (that awful repetitive song) out of your head. Take your time. And when you figure it out. Call me, maybe.

f-bomb n (1988) : the word fuck — used metaphorically as a euphemism — What can I say about this that was not captured in my August 14th Facebook post? And on the emo coaster it's time for a brief, but steep dip into the "want to kick something" territory. Looking to rebound soon on this roller coaster ride. Am somewhat cheered to learn that Webster has officially added f-bomb to the dictionary. It really bothered me that I wasn't official while being inappropriate. What would Dr. Horrible say? "Sarcasm - how original." Yeah. I know.

flexitarian n (1998) : one whose normally meatless diet occasionally includes meat or fish — I "love" (oops! sarcasm again) this one because it's so America 2012. What is this? "I'm totally committed to being a vegetarian and everything is stands for. Except when I want bacon." What? We want it all and we want to commit to nothing. Or is that we want to commit to everything, but we want nothing? We're afraid to be accountable. To be pinned down to one thing. To say, yes, this is what I believe. I look around and I see so many people (nameless, faceless people - don't worry, I'm not talking about anyone I know personally. I wouldn't do that? Would I?) who want everyone to be equal and happy and to believe the same thing and do the same thing and think the same thing and hug the same thing and eat the same thing …. Do you get where I'm going? I believe in taking a stand and making a stand for things you believe in. In your politics. In your spiritual life. In your morals. In your eating habits. Whatever. But pick something and stand for it. And allow other people to do the same thing (even if you don't agree with them). But stand. Don't flex. If you don't stand, it doesn't mean anything. And then, what's the point?

life coach n (1986) : an advisor who helps people make decisions, set and reach goals, or deal with problems — Mainly I'm curious to know if being in the dictionary legitimizes this profession enough that I can get business cards that will allow me to coach life. Ask around. I'm fairly experienced. In numerous areas of life that require serious survival skills. And I haven't seen much else beside that and gumption that allows someone to be one, so ….

tipping point n (1959) : the critical point in a situation, process, or system beyond which a significant and often unstoppable effect or change takes place — I've had a few of these in my life. And I love them because they are serious game changers (btw, also another entry in this year's word list). The tipping points in my life have always taken me away from something or someone that was crushing my soul; wringing the spirit from me; and sending me into a spiraling tailspin. They have always been difficult. There have been points in the tipping where I have felt that I was thrown (not tipped) down the side of a ravaged cliff and that I was hitting every rock, bump, and bramble on my way down. And yet there has never been a tipping that has not eventually right-sided me as a stronger, sturdier, smarter person with more faith and endurance than before the falling down.

Interesting words on the list this year. There are more, of course. These are just a few I'm offering up. You can find more here at The Atlantic. Don't forget. Words matter. They follow us. Live with us. Grow with us. They tell our story. Go on a safari to find some new words. Words matter.

PS - Although I am of age. Well above age. I still feel the need to write a brief and public note of apology to my mother for the whole f-bomb thing. For including it. And admitting that I actually say it. Out loud. I love you mom. And I love that you love me. Anyway.