Voice of Truth

Voice of Truth

Photo courtesy of http://images4.fanpop.com/

Take a minute and listen to this song: Just Be Held - Casting Crowns

That's me right now. 

I'm so thankful tonight. I was wandering lost in the Slough of Despondency when a dear friend noticed that I'd begun to wander and called my spirit to attention, reminding me Who our God Is. Blessing me with Fortitude - of all things - and the ability to stand strong through this time of need. It was exactly what I needed. My soul cried, longing for the exact things he was praying for me. Tears poured from my eyes, just as the words of blessing poured across the bruises of my heart. 

You see, Pete and I are out of money. 

We've been bleeding out to the tune of $4000 each month, and we've now come to the end of what buffer we had. Attempts to find a job have been fruitless, and even so, any job I could have found wouldn't make nearly that much, so we would have continued to slowly lose financial ground anyhow. Our budget is only capable of being cut back by perhaps another $1000 at best. 

Tonight I started the application process for student loans, intending that we'd make up some of that financial shortfall by having me become a full time student. Difficult as it would be, it seemed to be the only option we had left. To my dismay, the application forms require several hoops which will be incredibly difficult, if not impossible, for me to jump through simply because I already have two degrees, and am taking these courses as prerequisites to beginning an actual program. Needless to say, it was disheartening.

And then I found out that I received a 59% on my final assignment of the psychology course I just finished. 59%. I don't think I've ever done so poorly in my life. It was like a punch to the stomach. 

All of a sudden I was assaulted by doubts. Should I be pursuing my Master's in Counselling? How can I even think of it if I can't keep my marks up? Was it a mistake to try? Was it a mistake to quit teaching? If I hadn't quit teaching, we wouldn't be in this financial mess. 

Everything I'd striven for was brought into sharp relief and questioned. I was in shock. I couldn't even cry. I had no idea which direction was up, much less the inclination to turn my eyes Upward. And then, my dear friend saw me, and reached out, and righted me. Pointed me back to the God of gods. The Almighty One. He Who Holds the Earth Together. He Who Knows Me. The Loving One.

"All of my life, in every season, you are still God. I have a reason to sing. I have a reason to worship."

So, now I choose. I choose fortitude, not rescue. I choose faith, not assurance. I choose to be stretched some more, to allow the cracks in this vessel to widened so that the love of God can pour out as quickly as I am filled. I choose to listen for His Voice. The Voice of Truth.

Now listen to this one: Voice of Truth - Casting Crowns

One of Those Days

maggiebebbe.deviantart.com

Sometimes I wake up melancholy. It's usually triggered by something, but the end result is that I have a morning by myself where I'm imprisoned by my emotions. See, that's the difficulty I have with not working right now. Because I don't have a job, I think too much. I'm left too much on my own. I have only my own thoughts and emotions for company. And my thoughts and emotions are avid conversationalists.

Today is one of Those Days.

I only want to cry. I am crying.

You know what's silly? My brain knows better. My brain knows that I'm being foolish. Or taking something personally when it wasn't intended to be. My brain attempts to say "Snap out of it!" But too much of me doesn't want to. Too much of me wants to indulge in the tide of emotion. Too much of me wants to feel sorry for myself. A part of me even believes I deserve it, and wants to feel miserable because I deserve to feel miserable.

Why am I so ungrounded?

Why am I so easily tossed?

Why can't I be a stable person?

It's so impractical. So silly. And yet I can't help it. I desperately need someone else to give me perspective. I am incapable of doing so myself.

And then come the accusations.
I'm a Christian, shouldn't I just be able to rely on God an know that everything is okay? Shouldn't I have a more eternal perspective on life? Be able to rise above such petty things? How can I be a good role model? How can I be the support my friends need me to be? How can I be a useful human being if I can't manage my own emotions?

After the accusations comes the second guessing.
Is this just me? Am I just one of those moody people? Or is this part of my depression? Did I forget to take my meds? How do others see me?

I'm so sick of it!!! [insert sobbing here]







I'm going to put on some Soul Food music and attempt to get something useful done today.

Preparing for Lughnasadh

Picture courtesy of www.jhm.org

Preparing for Lughnasadh

Lughnasadh, also called Lammas, is a first fruits celebration. It celebrates the beginning of the harvest season, and is a time of thanksgiving for God's bountiful provision. First fruits are the first and best of one's harvest that is offered to God, traditionally through the priests. We no longer need the priests to mediate between us and the Lord God, Christ has bridged that gap for us, and we are welcomed into the throne room to give of our selves. Early Celtic Christians would take the first of their grain harvest and prepare a loaf of bread to bring to church on Sunday for communion. That was their first fruits offering. 

In my own preparations for Lughnasadh, I felt a great sense of privilege to be making the communion loaves. Even though it wasn't literally my own first harvest of grain, it is still my first fruits offering in that this is the first festival that we are celebrating together as an actual worship service. The planning, the organising, the lovely ham dinner we will share afterward - in a way it is all part of our first fruits offering. 

And then, at some point this evening, the irony hit me. Here I am celebrating God's bountiful provision when I don't currently see where that provision is coming from in my life. You see, I resigned as a teacher in June. It was clear to me that it was time to resign, as I was not willing to work full time as a teacher anymore, and that was all they had for me. That has left me job searching all summer, with no luck, and more than one disappointment. Deep, grieving disappointment, actually. Twice now I've thought God had brought me the perfect job, only to have that door closed in my face after I had felt sure it was going to pan out. New light on the situation brought on fear, a fear I haven't experienced before. The deep, heart-wrenching knowledge that I didn't know where our fall mortgage payments would be coming from. 

That fear nearly derailed me.

After a long conversation with a dear friend, I realised it was a faith issue. Yes, I knew with my head that the Lord is our Provider. Of course I trust Him. But I needed to cry out with that boy's father, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" (That story is in Mark 9, if you're wondering.) My faith is small, friend, and while it only takes faith the size of a mustard seed to move a mountain, my fear was keeping even my small faith from being exercised. Once identified as a faith issue, once I cried out to the Lord God, the fear was gone. Left in it's place was a quiet waiting. 

I pray that I can keep that quiet, patient spirit until the Lord sends us His manna and quails. 

Summer Solstice: Litha

Summer Solstice: Litha

Photo by Lea Patterson: taken at 11pm in Grande Prairie, AB

You're allowed to think I'm silly. You're even allowed to think maybe I'm exploring things that are dangerous. Allow me to assure you that I'm being super careful, and doing everything with a lot of prayer and looking for direction from God. If God says, or if I feel, that what I'm doing is dangerous for me, then I don't go there.

Wow, heavy preamble!

Yesterday was Litha, the summer solstice, and I loved it. You see, I've begun a spiritual journey into discovering my personal worship style. I've always been fascinated and drawn to Celtic Christianity, which is the form of Christianity which took hold among the British Isles during the rule of the Roman empire and into the middle ages. The druids of the British Isles knew about God, they just didn't know Him by name. In fact, there was even a legend that the King of All Kings, Son of the One God was killed on a tree. So when Roman Catholic missionaries came and explained Christ to them, they were overjoyed with learning the truth, and quickly "converted" to Christianity - if any converting was actually necessary. It was more like clarification.

One thing the druids did, back then, was revere and respect nature. They calculated and were attuned to things like the summer solstice. The rhythms of the earth were important to them because they were a reflection of the great Creator God who ruled everything with holy majesty. They had festivals to mark every solstice, every equinox, and even the halfway points in between. Litha, specifically, was also called Alban Heruin, which means "Light of the Shore." It was a celebration of light and of the sun, as without the sun there would be no life. It was a time to celebrate strengths and accomplishments. It was a time for gathering herbs to make into medicines. Modernly, people who still follow the druid ways (which have become more "pagan" than they used to be) will light a candle and pray a prayer of thanksgiving for the sun, for light, and for plenty.

So, true to my style, I appropriated that and "Christianized" it.

At midnight last night I met with a good friend of mine who is also into Celtic Christianity. We lit a candle outside, and had a really good prayer time. To God, the Lord of lords, the Almighty Creator God. His vastness was brought home to me. It was as though, for a moment, I could see things in a bit more of a heavenly perspective. God's majesty. His holiness. Exactly why he deserves to be feared, and loved, and obeyed.

After praying, we had some fun. We spent about 45 minutes finding plants in my yard that we could "harvest." Raspberry leaves for tea, bee balm, salvia, rose petals, even daisies. It was fun to look up what we could use, and we had some excellent conversation time.

I've decided I love Litha. Next year we'll probably do something more to celebrate, but this was our first festival, our trial run. We're planning on doing something more on August 1st, the festival of Lughnasadh (pronounced Loo-nas-ah). I don't think I'll be staying up past midnight regularly, though, makes for a late night. *grin*

I'd love to hear what you guys think about my spiritual journey. Comment here, on facebook, or send me a private message.

Of Dreams and Visions

Thanks to www.candace.pentecostalpioneers.org

Lately my youth girls have been looking into the phenomena of interpreting God-given dreams and visions. Interesting stuff, and obviously something we need to be careful around. Interesting and helpful, because I do believe God speaks to us today through dreams and visions, and careful because it's important to know when a dream is truly from God or not. And, to be cautious with one's interpretations. To aid in answering some of the girls' curiosity, I asked for help from a friend, Lorrie, who Pete and I  know through Love After Marriage, the amazing marriage seminar we attended a year and a half ago. Lorrie brought with her a handout from the seminar which I had forgotten about, a handout which goes through some of the basics about dreams, both Biblically and scientifically, and references several more comprehensive resources on dream/vision interpretation.

The different between dreams and visions, you ask? Not much. Dreams are pictures in your head while you sleep. Visions are pictures in your head while you're awake. I was always intimidated by the word "visions" because it sounded like some sort of PTSD flashback. In the the book of Job, it refers to a God-given dream as "a vision of the night" (Job 33:15), which tells me that dreams and visions aren't so different after all.

As I was again paging through this handout, it seemed to me as though it were something I was now ready to hear - as though the first time I'd looked at it, I wasn't open to the idea of God speaking through dreams. So many things in this handout popped out to me!

1.) Dreams don't have to be a specific message for God to be using them. 
We know that the mind sorts through the day in our sleep, that it is for our psychological well being. Things that happened to us, particularly if they were momentous, are often repeated in our sleep. I don't know why I separated secular science and Godly science so much, but it never occurred to me that this was God's way of protecting our minds. Of course God is using our dreams to cleanse us of the day's events, He created it that way!

2.) Everything was created good, and everything good is from God. 
Now, this is not to say good things can't be twisted by sin and Satan. Of course they can. My point is that our imaginations were created good, and that good things are from God. God can speak to us through our imaginations as well as our dreams. That's where the "visions" part comes in. With a great deal of prayer, and with caution, I'm learning to trust my imagination to my Lord. I trust that I will get a true answer from Him when I ask for one. Naturally, I need to pray for protection from myself and from the ideas of the Enemy before just envisioning something. But the fact that we can trust our imaginations to be used by God was a breakthrough to me. My vivid imagination is a good thing! It's from the Lord! I hadn't realised that before.

3.) God has been speaking to me, about me, since I was a little girl. 
As I paged through the handout, bits and pieces of dreams from my past jumped out at me. Bits and pieces that I just thought were memorable dreams, but nothing more. I have come to believe that God has been speaking to me in my dreams and visions since I was little. Let me give you some background before I tell you some examples. Firstly, I have always dreamed vividly, and I tend to dream in muted colours. My dreams are always intense, and I'm always present. Usually there's some big action going on that I am a part of or instigating. As a child I was rescuing someone or battling something. Now that I'm an adult, I'm trying to teach a roomful of needy students or navigating the halls of post-secondary myself. :P

Example One
One of my most memorable and repeated dreams as a child was what I think they (the writers of the booklet) call a Soul Dream. This type of dream isn't prophetic at all, it just reveals what your heart's desire is. I would dream, night after night, of rescuing my blond twin sister (I don't have a sister, much less a blond twin) from the clutches of the evil witch who lived in a great black castle. I didn't fight my way in, I sneaked. I remember hiding in the front closet among the jackets (in a castle, I know) and avoiding her robot henchmen until I could shut them down with a big, red button. In the end, my sister rescued, I put a special key into the lock on the drawing room gate/door and melt away all the darkness of the castle, breaking the curse over it and the witch. This is the only point in which my dream didn't have muted colours - when the curse broke and the castle came to "life." The darkness melted away. My "interpretation" of this? That I wanted to be a rescuer and fixer of people. That I didn't want to fight, but rather work around obstacles in a safe way to get to the heart of the matter and break curses that way. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a bit of a saviour complex. I always want to rescue people.

Example Two
My second most memorable dream only happened once, and I believe is what they call a Dark Dream. A dream in which God reveals the plans of Satan. We had just recently moved to Nampa and I was young; 10 to 12 years old. This dream was also in muted colors, and I remember hiding in a slatted wooden box while a lynx or some other big cat paced outside. Looking down I noticed an amulet, which I picked up and it changed into a sword. The pacing lynx left. Leaving the crate, I looked around and saw that there was an enormous snake, it's head the size of the room in which I now sit, coiled and prepared to attack. I had to get past it, so I drew my sword and cut off it's head. My interpretation? I believe the great cat was a watching demonic spirit, which left when I picked up the Word of God. I believe the giant snake to be the false accusation, gossip and slander which was coming against us, and which could only be overcome by speaking out in Truth from God's Word.

4.) It's okay to be a Christian Druid.
Now I sound off my rocker, and I'm sorry you think so. If you've read this far, though, please hear me out. I've always been drawn to the ancient Celtic religion. Not because of it's dark power, but because it felt like there was some truth there. Over the last few years I've managed to stumble across books and other materials which have brought me to the belief that all good things come from God. Pagan Druids and Christian Druids used the same "potions," they just called on different Powers. One demonic, the other Divine. About a year ago I accepted the freedom to be a Druidic Apothecary, making up "potions" of various sorts for various things while still giving God the glory. Now I've come to the place where I can accept being a Druidic Dreamer as well. Letting God reign in my dreams and visions, giving Him the glory for what he is revealing about me in them.

I'm sorry for such a long diatribe, I wasn't meaning to go on like this - actually, I didn't have a plan when I started. I just knew I wanted to write. Apparently I needed to.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact me. I'd love the chance to explain myself further over a cup of tea!

Hagah!

Thanks to barenakedislam.com for the picture.

I hope this doesn't gross you out, but I love the idea of a lion nomming away at something it's just caught. It enjoys it immensely. You could probably hear it purring or even growling a little in its enjoyment of such a delectable meal. At least, that's how I imagine it.

Do you know the Hebrew word hagah? It means to murmur in pleasure, murmur in anger, ponder, mourn, speak, imagine, and study. Isn't that an incredibly complex word? I love it. It's my favourite word.

I've been teaching a Contemplative Prayer workshop for our church family, and have realised that I need to do a better job of explaining where the idea of meditation comes from. To quote a more experienced teacher than I, meditation isn't an Eastern religious concept that Christianity is trying to change for it's own use. It's something given to us by God from the very beginning, something that became twisted into the emptying of oneself rather than the finding of oneself in Christ.

My evening, after watching the Saskatchewan Roughriders football game, was spent researching what Hebrew words ended up being translated as "to meditate," at which point I ran across my favourite word, hagah, again (it keeps coming up) as well as a few new ones. It was enlightening. And satisfying. I had an hour of good hagah time as I dug into the Word. I need to enjoy God's Word like that more often. Meditate on it in the study sense. I encourage you to do the same. 

Stuck in the Middle

Thanks to ohgelie for the photo. It's perfect.

One of the toughest places to be, in my opinion, is stuck in the middle. Right now I'm stuck in the middle of being able and not able. I've been on a medical leave for the last year, not able to work. I'm now at the point where the act of not-working is exacerbating the situation, making my condition worse. However, I'm not yet well enough to go back to work full time.

To make things tougher, I'm a teacher. There are very few teaching opportunities that are part-time, especially for someone who has a continuing contract. Like me. There are days when I love my class and have so much fun teaching - days when it just clicks. Then there are days when I come home and bawl my eyes out, wanting to quit. Now, I can hear the other teachers out there saying, "That's just normal, honey, it's called being a teacher!" But this is more than that. This is feeling swallowed by despair because you feel like you're inadequate. Incapable. Untrustworthy. I'm not talking about a Really Bad Day. I've had those. I've been teaching for 6 years. I'm talking about honest-to-goodness despair. Now that's scary.

Now comes the "stuck" part. I love teaching. I love the kids. It's everything else that overwhelms me. Submitting year plans and professional growth plans and discipline plans. Paperwork out my wazoo. And then, there's this: I truly believe God called me to be a teacher. I feel like I would die without the opportunity to teach. "Then why do I feel so useless? Why does this overwhelm me so much?" My head and heart argue with each other, and I end up in tears. It happens so often, I'm sick to death of it.

Today's one of *those* days, obviously.

I've started looking at other teaching options. Tutoring. Being a home school facilitator. Teaching online. I keep thinking they'll be less stressful. It'll be easier to work a flexible schedule and not deal with 6 different groups of 30 rangy hormone-driven kids each day. You know the problem with them all? It takes me out of the classroom. And so I don't know. I'm stuck.

If you're reading this, I'd appreciate some prayer.

The Humility Project

www.popgoesthereader.com

I've recently been reading a chick-lit book called The Rosie Project. Cute love story, a little too free with the sex (and language) for my usual tastes, but a cute story. I would recommend it. In fact, the cavalier presentation of sex is partially addressed in the book - infidelity - and faithfulness in relationships is held up as the more rewarding option by the end of it. This irreverent approach to sex didn't bother me until I watched an entirely unrelated movie.... Her. 

www.louderthanwar.com

Her is a unique movie, I would recommend it to very, very few. It, too, approaches sex casually. Beyond just depicting casual sex, it includes phone sex and sex jokes in its portrayal of a blossoming romance. It isn't trying to be funny - it is actually quite tasteful by worldly standards. It is nothing like the sexually crude comedy I can't stand to watch. Its goal was to be cute and romantic. But.

Watching Her coloured my world in a very negative way. It coloured my intimacy (not just sexual) with my husband so that I felt dirty. It coloured the cute book (The Rosie Project) I was reading so that the portrayed relationship felt more sexual than it was actually written to be. It really put me off. It bother me, a lot, that society takes such an off-hand stance when it comes to sex. Intimacy is supposed to be highly treasured... 

When I was talking about this to my husband, who was wanting to know why I was so "off" that day, my explanation put him in mind of the movie 50 Shades of Grey that is set to release this spring. He noted that we are becoming more and more like the ancient wealthy societies who had nothing better to do than wallow in their own depravity. I'm thinking Romans and Greeks. Then he made an interesting point...

What was Christ's response to the depravity of the world around him? He mourned. I'm thinking of the well known "I long to gather you together as a hen gathers her chicks..." spoken over Jerusalem in Matthew 23.  He didn't rant and rail against the evils of the world (I'm thinking of the many blogs and articles I've seen decrying 50 Shades of Grey and those who are entertained by it), but rather spoke love in humility and mourned. 

I need to learn how to mourn rather than rant. 

Magnetic Poetry I

Magnetic Poetry I

Herein doth grace
Sanctify a mortal dream
This perilous melancholy to make light
And thus
Shall my ghost yield me
To love and mercy vouchsafed

A poem I wrote a few months ago using the Shakespearean words magnets on my filing cabinet. :)

16th Day of Lent

photo courtesy of davidsmommy.com

I didn't grow up observing Lent; it's a fairly new idea to me. I should rephrase that - taking it seriously is a fairly new idea to me. As a child I had friends who would give up things like chocolate for Lent and my inward response ran along the following lines: 

"What a silly way to show one's devotion! As if giving up chocolate is actually going to help them understand Christ's sacrifice any better... I don't observe Lent, and I have a great relationship with God... Are they just giving it up so they get 'brownie points' for heaven? What a silly, works-based idea that is!"

Judgmental, I know.

Lately I've been taking another look at the traditions of the church and have been able to see the value in it all. The act of disciplining ones self to daily thematic readings; meditating on the purpose of the cross; self-examination; making a concerted effort to pray about specific church ministries; all these suddenly have value to me. While I haven't chosen anything to sacrifice for Lent this year, I do love the spiritual discipline of the season and find myself drawn to the idea of doing more to observe it for next year.

Today's post is going to ramble a little as I have another topic I wanted to talk about, too.

photo courtesy of ubdavid.org

Today's reading was from John 3:1-17, the section where Nicodemus meets Jesus up on the roof top in the dead of night to ask him questions. It's obvious from the beginning that he admires Jesus, calling him "Rabbi" from the very first. What struck me today was how flabbergasted Nicodemus was by Jesus' description of being born again - born of the Holy Spirit.

"The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear the sound of it, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes. So is everyone who is born of the Spirit." John 3:8 (NKJV)

The Holy Spirit works like the wind - you can't see the wind itself, just its effects. Jesus outright explains the working of the Holy Spirit to Nicodemus, and he is floored by such an awesome mystery. And yet I take our gift of the Holy Spirit for granted... for shame!

I'm humbled by that realization today, and my prayer is that the Lord would make me more like Nicodemus. I want to sit at Jesus feet in wonder as He explains His mission to me. I don't want to take Him for granted anymore.

  

Grace and Compassion

Ps. 145:8 

The Lord is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and rich in love.  

This afternoon I had the (slightly less than current) worship song in my head, spontaneously, as an outpouring of my heart to God. I've been stretched, like a rubber band, these last two weeks. "I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter over too much bread." That was Bilbo Baggins from Lord of the Rings. I can empathize.

Hark.com; Bilbo Baggins

This week the Lord has been gracious. I have seen his compassion. Time after time, commitments melted away in front of me. Either something was cancelled unexpectedly, or it was moved to another time or date. The expected "chicken with its head cut off" feeling never came. I not only "survived" my week... I enjoyed it.

Once more I feel as though I've been granted a boon. Despite the looming tidal wave of marking (There are days when it really does pour off my desk!), and the deadline for report cards, the upcoming budget and staffing meeting for the church, the frustration of absent students and seemingly apathetic parents, the lack of groceries (I haven't had enough time to go shopping, so we've been eating cobbled-together meals for the last week and a half), a driveway with too much snow and not enough traction, and the general sluggishness that comes from being cold, dark, and snowy.... I'm content. That's a long list of things that should be bothering me. I'm dwelling on it because normally (Is that really the word I mean? Perhaps I mean traditionally?) that would be overwhelming me. But God has gifted me with that "peace that passes understanding" (...down in my heart!).

I have a great class of students. I am loving teaching leadership. I have a small "fan club" in the younger grades (they recently found out I play Minecraft.) I have some adorable grade 8 Filipino girls who are shy and quiet but brighten up and say hi to me every chance they get. I have an amazingly understanding and supportive husband. I have creativity, and snugness, and seem to have found a rhythm to my evenings - no more scrambling and feeling like there isn't enough. It's inexplicable. Entirely. I am blessed.

Know what was really cool today? We were discussing the Protestant Reformation in class today, and one girl stayed behind to ask me more about grace. I was grinning inside.

Mourning, Grief, Fear, Loss

How often can a heart break
Mend, knit, heal,
Only to reach out "too soon."
Tear open the freshly healed wound,
Bleed out,
And find itself broken again.

My eyes are weary of their own -
Tears, redness, exhaustion -
Surely I have nothing left to cry,
My heart is empty,
Yet
My spirit groans within me,
Giving cry to that
Which my mouth can no longer express.

Wash of mercy,
Wave of faithfulness,
Tide of grace.

The hand of the Lord upholds me.
He looks with
Mirrored sorrow
On my burdened heart,
On my burdened family.
He catches and treasures each crystalline tear
In a bottle.

Be the daily portion and prize,
Sustainer,
Healer,
Redeemer,
Almighty God.
Be my sufficiency.

What is Faith?

I've been reading Mere Christianity (CS Lewis) slowly ... paragraph by paragraph sometimes... in the mornings. Recently it's led me on a journey into what faith is, the different types of faith, what it means to live by faith, etc. Part of it relates to what I've already been learning about humility and being "poor in spirit." In this particular chapter Lewis talks about coming to the point where we realize we've done our utmost and are still incapable of attaining righteousness. This is the point at which we need to say, to God, "I can't, you need to do this for me." That is, we need to give up. He then continues to explain that this means leaving all our trust in God; trust that He will cause things to turn out all right in the end. I think my favourite quotation from this section is as follows: 

There would be no sense in saying you trusted a person if you would not take his advice. Thus if you have really handed yourself over to Him, it must follow that you are trying to obey Him. But trying in a new way, a less worried way. Not doing these things in order to be saved, but because He has begun to save you already. Not hoping to get to Heaven as a reward for your actions, but inevitably wanting to act in a certain way because a first gleam of Heaven is already inside you.

I found that a very apt summary of the ragtag thoughts & feelings I've been pondering over the last while. I love finding succinct quotations of something that I've already been learning and discovering... it's very encouraging. 

Pride

"... it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind." - C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

What a thought. No wonder God saw fit to bring me down a notch or two, I was trying to compete with Him. I was useless for what he wanted me to do. I was a clay pot who thought she knew enough about pottery to try her hand at repairing other clay pots, and too foolish to realize I didn't have any hands. Clay pots don't have hands. I was a clay pot. How often did I look in the mirror and fail to see the pot for the clay? What a gift to be able to see clearly now what God has brought me from.

Praise God that I'm a silly little pot who's learned to rely on the Master Potter and not herself!

Tossed

To feel oneself drifting,
tossed about
flippantly
on winds of abandon...
waves of expectation.
Tossed, with loss of dignity,
as a dwarf tossed by an elf.
And yet.
Yet.
I can feel an anchor.
Oh, but it seems a slender cable
in the tumult of life.
But
my anchor holds,
and though I can no longer see shore
for the driving rain,
I am not lost.

Dichotomies and Trichotomies

So, I've been thinking a lot lately about my di/trichotomy of an existence at this juncture in life. Teacher, wife, gamer, writer, church leader, and medievalist... which of these is me, which was me, and which will I continue to be? Some are easy to answer. I'll always be wife and teacher. That's just a no-brainer. But I've begun to lose the writer because of the teacher, and the medievalist because of the gamer... Can I actually keep elements of all of them? Can I be happy without elements of all of them?