Little Miss E and the Purple Glitter

I opened the patio door and let the cold, harsh winter air in just for a moment. I was cleaning up the back patio stairs, and noticed purple glitter all over our steps trailing down along the cement toward the garden. “Do you guys know who dumped purple glitter outside?” I asked the kids, quite perplexed.

“That was Little Miss E,” they said (a cute name I made up just for this post for anonymity). I looked around, amazed, thinking, “Its everywhere!” Throughout the day and into the next, I continued to bring  items outside for recycling and my eyes were drawn to the purple glitter, dazzlingly spilled all over our steps. It started to grow on me. It started to become endearing. I smiled with amusement each time I opened the door.

Little Miss E is our sweet, dear 5 year old friend who comes to visit us often. Dressed in a princess dress, carrying a purse, or wearing strands of little girl necklaces, she plays in the communal backyard, and knocks on our door for our kids to come outside and play. This is one of the things I love the most about our community where we live. Children are always coming by to say hello, to play, and to just chat. And we chat with them. We listen to their thoughts, we ask them questions. I want our home to always be welcoming to little ones, that they may sense the love of Jesus here, that Jesus welcomes them, and that we are always willing to talk.

Working this morning at the campus childcare center, we had taken the kids to the playground to play. I was pulling the little red wagon with two children sitting snuggly inside. As I circled the playground on the asphalt path, I looked down and there it was, more purple glitter! I saw more later on along the sidewalk to our building, and more at the picnic area, and still more sprinkled all over crisp, dry fallen leaves.  I smiled. Little Miss E. She’s been here too! Like little whisps of fairy dust sprinkled around campus, she was leaving her mark of purple glitter wherever she went, coloring the bleak winter with purple hues that shimmer and shine in the sunlight, making our community sparkle with her laughter and smiles, and her sweet friendship.

And the Lord their God will save them in that day
As the flock of His people;
For they are as the stones of a crown,
Sparkling in His land.
Zechariah 9:16

Listening Well

We have been living at seminary now for over 7 months. When we arrived, we found ourselves often involved in and listening to conversations that centered around four letters. Are you an I or an E? Are you an F or a J? At first I was confused, as my brain sorted through the possibilities of what these letters could mean. Staring blankly, with baby in one arm, not sure what to say, and without any clue as to what they were talking about, I would answer honestly, “I actually don’t know what F and J mean.” We found these four letter combinations to be everywhere around campus and in class. After realizing this was a Meyers-Briggs personality tool and remembering that I had taken this test almost 20 years ago in college, we learned to appreciate these letters, because these letters actually had meaning and we would learn to appreciate even what these letters meant for us personally.

While living here in community, and from auditing one class (of which I only attended about half of the classes because our life was so busy last semester), and from learning through osmosis from what my husband is learning in his Mdiv classes, the Lord has been teaching me to listen well.

I always thought I was a good listener. When I am meeting with a friend, I put my cell phone away or on silent. If I’m talking with someone and my phone rings, I don’t answer it, but return the call when I have a moment. If I’m at church talking to someone and someone else taps my shoulder to say hi, I say a quick hello in a whisper, give a smile and a wave and then return to the person I was listening to. I want to give full attention.

I’ve realized, though, that there is so much more involved in listening well.

Listening doesn’t just involve eye contact and letting people finish their sentences. Listening isn’t just about hearing another’s words. If you want to listen well, it can take quite a lot of energy, which can be difficult for a generally introverted personality like mine.

As a Christian, it is important to listen well because we are ambassadors of Christ and we want to represent Him well to each other and to the world for the sake of His  Kingdom and for the sake of His redeeming work in our lives and relationships.

It is an honor to listen to someone’s story. Your neighbor, your relative, your spouse is made in the image of God. They have a story, a long and complicated, intricate story that began before they were even born. It is a privilege to be given the honor of hearing and engaging in one’s story.

Sometimes we need to just listen… physically hearing and internalizing what someone is saying, evaluating and analyzing, considering the vast array of possibilities and interpretations that could be present. It involves waiting patiently for wisdom and speaking timely words in response.

I like the NIV version of Ephesians 4:29 that says,

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.
(Ephesians 4:29 NIV)

We want to build others up in the Truth, in Christ, according to their needs. The most important of those needs is having the Gospel impact their lives.

According to Carl Jung and Isabel Briggs Myers’, there are 16 different personality types. Already, we have a lot to wade through in learning to listen to someone! A free personality test here was one of the many tools used in our Spiritual and Ministry Formation Class. I didn’t realize back then how useful this would be in understanding myself better and understanding how I interact with others. Ultimately, this would aid in how well I am able to listen to others and interact with more wisdom and knowledge, simply because I would now be listening to them with skill.

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger (James 1:19 ESV)

One of the main culprits for causing disunity and disgruntled relationships is due to the inability to recognize the inner workings of the vast array of different personalities. Each person may see an event or an opinion in a different light due to the way they interpret a situation, what worldview or culture they are coming from, whether they are an introvert or extrovert, what they value, and how they have learned to manage their emotions, responses, and ways of interacting with others.

It takes a lot of effort and grace to listen well to another. But learning this lifelong skill will help diffuse many a needless conflict, bring restoration to relationships and most importantly, open doors for the gospel to be shared, received and savored.

Listen, and listen well.

The Close of the Day

It all happened quite circumstantially. Our almost-2 year old started crawling out of his bed at night and with delirious laughter decided this was the way he wanted to spend all of his evenings… getting Mommy and Daddy to put him back into his bed 20-30 times a night! Finally, one of the exhausted pair had a brilliant idea. It was time to stand guard.

So the evening routine would begin. Tuck all of the children into bed, pull up a chair in front of their rooms, and keep watch lest the littlest one should sneak out unawares. After many nights of listening to music while he fell asleep, folding laundry, or working on my computer at my post, I realized that I could accomplish much in this span of 20 minutes while he fell asleep.

A new year dawned, and I began reading to my children another book in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia series, Prince Caspian. I am currently reading three novels to my children and have another four that just arrived in the mail this past week. I never have quite enough time to get in all the reading I would love to do each day. Solution: the books need to take turns. It was during this new years week and during the transition of a new school schedule that I began a new tradition… reading them to sleep.

I am amazed at how many chapters we can breeze through in that small amount of time. The house is quiet, I have their attention. Every so often, I stop to see if they have fallen asleep and usually I hear, “Read more!” Occasionally, I do not get a response. And that’s when I know that all have peacefully drifted off into dreamland, hopefully with kings and queens, fauns, centaurs, brave little mice, and definitely a lion named Aslan. And if none of these creatures fill their dreams, then at least they have all happily gone to sleep with a story in their hearts, at a reasonable hour and I have fulfilled another shift of standing guard against the wiles of a deliriously exhausted 2 year old, whom I love with all my heart!

Tell Me Another Story, Mama

I would crawl up on her bed, my little 10 year old self. She would be folding clean towels. I would watch her and memorize her every movement. I loved these moments in the middle of the day or the evening hours before bedtime. No one else around, I could have my mom all to myself and just talk. We would talk about anything and everything. Literally everything. She was my sounding board for all the many thoughts that perused my mind and it would all come out at these moments. It was then in those moments that she would say, “I completely understand. When I was young…” and she would launch off into a story from her life. She is an amazing story-teller. Sometimes the stories were quite amusing and hilarious. I would ask her questions, have her repeat that certain part again, and ask the why’s and how’s and when’s so that I could fully immerse myself in her stories.

Other times, there was a grand lesson for me to hear. Whether it was a spiritual lesson or a relationship lesson, she always had the answer! I would come away feeling encouraged, built up in my faith, and trusting that God was working even if I couldn’t see the answer to my particular problem. I would say, “Tell me another story, Mommy, from when you were young!”

About this time, a desire for adventure was percolating in my heart.  I would daydream constantly, even so much that it affected my wardrobe. I enjoyed wearing bracelets and necklaces as a little girl, but as I was getting older, I didn’t have a strong interest in jewelry. Everyone tried to get me to like it, but I felt it might get in the way if I was on a missionary adventure in a jungle somewhere. Instead of daydreaming about fancy hair-styles, I have often daydreamed about what kind of hair style would most suit the mission field and took the least amount of care, so that I could focus instead on the hard and laborious work of living in a third world country or scaling mountainsides on my future adventures. Instead of dreaming about fancy purses and shoes, I daydreamed about what kind of satchel or shoulder bag would suit me the best as I wandered through unknown lands. I also wore moccasins in high school which absolutely horrified my sisters! And of course, I ran my fastest time ever, the day I wore my moccasins to gym class!

I still have them.

(Disclaimer: I do appreciate jewelry and fancy things! I love to dress up too. And I love that my daughter loves to dress up. Over the years, I have learned to enjoy my own version of fancy! In fact, if my daughter wants to get her ears pierced one day, I may just go and get mine pierced with her as a Mommy Date!)

My daydreams took on an element of adventure. Perhaps it was fueled as well by my adventurous father who would take me hiking into the mountains. When your Dad takes you for a hike past the “No Trespassing” sign, you know you’re in for an adventure. We would walk as far as our legs would take us, enjoying the incredible views overlooking Vancouver, British Columbia, high up in the mountains. He would point out streams, waterfalls, flowers and plant life. He would also make sure not to point out signs of bear or cougar nearby. He didn’t tell me about all the moments he did notice signs of wildlife, as he didn’t want to frighten me, but he told me years later!

A few years ago, I started to tell our kids stories of adventure from my life. Stories about places I went and people I met, sharing the gospel with many different people in many different lands. And now, it is a regular thing to hear one of my children say, “Mama, tell us another story!” So we snuggle together, I set the scene, and they dive into their imaginations to recreate for themselves another story as I remember it.

The Liturgy of a New Year

{This photo was taken a year ago at Cowiche Canyon, Washington}

I want to write love letters with a paper and pen. I want to make house calls. I want to waste time on things that matter. On things that leave a mark in this world and the next. I want to carve out time to stop and boil the water. To bring out the china and the silver. To ask good questions of myself and my neighbors. And to listen patiently for the subtle answers. I want to live a life of love and liturgy.
Sandra McCracken, Tea & Liturgy

The word liturgy conjures up many other words such as form, order, worship, tradition, custom. I once read a beautiful piece on the liturgy of tea written by one of my favorite singer/songwriters. The quote above is from that article.

God has ordained structure and rhythm into the fabric of creation. There is a pulse. There is a poem. This year, I want to open my ears to hear more of that poem, written in the Scriptures, written on my heart, written in the daily tasks and regular rhythms of life where the ordinary is not ordinary but becomes the extraordinary when I open my ears and my eyes to the presence of Christ in every moment of every day that He has ordained. Whether they are good moments, or hard moments, whether they are moments of joy and laughter, or moments where I need to humble myself and submit to the good will of a loving Shepherd… from the mundane moments of putting dirty laundry into the washer machine to the beautiful memories made celebrating a birthday with all the pageantry of cakes, food, gifts, and games.

A year is structured by seasons, holidays, traditions, birthdays, times of rest and times of work. As the liturgy, form, traditions of your year play out, let there be worship of Jesus in the midst of it all. Let there be the continual rhythm of repentance and grace, quietness and trust, celebration and joy. And may we abide in the person of Jesus. This is where our true rest is. Practicing His presence, knowing He is with us, and finding our joy complete in Him as we live out the liturgy of our lives, year after year.

This is a vignette I wrote on January 4th, 2012 for my previous blog, The Artisan Home. I am re-posting it today to celebrate this new year, 2016.

The Year of the Good Shepherd

It was a year ago, for what seemed like countless nights, I laid my head down on my pillow at the close of the day, listening to the faint sound of cars rushing to and fro along the highway from our apartment window. Thinking, planning, preparing for our move across the country to a foreign mid-west destination. It seemed impossible, insurmountable, it didn’t seem like it was God’s plan. It was too far, plain and simple. The night worries would arrive, at times there were tears. It was too far. I couldn’t picture our new home. I had never been here before. I had no context, only fear. Questions would flood through my thoughts: Would we be safe? What if our truck broke down along the way in the barren lands between the cities? Where would we live? Would there be friends for our children nearby? Will there be friends for us? Where will we go to church? Which neighborhood should we choose? Should we rent or buy? All these thoughts would rush upon me in the evening hours.

Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. Hebrews 13:5

Many nights, I would fall asleep praying and repeating Scripture over and over, like a broken record player, until at last the Lord closed my eyes and gave me sleep.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. -Isaiah 41:10

Then the sun would rise. Streams of light through my window, the children would wake up from their slumber, one by one, and a new day would begin. New mercies would come, excitement for our upcoming move, joy and peace, news of new developments in our plans, encouraging emails and notes from friends. Inspiration and a constant source of joy in the daily readings of Charles Spurgeon’s Morning & Evening devotional. The excitement was thrilling as I packed boxes and made lists and walked in faith for God’s plan for our family.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
-Lamentations 3:22-23

As the day came to a close, dishes piled high in the sink and clean laundry in baskets, toys cleaned up and books put away, I braced myself for the evening worries that were sure to arrive with the setting of the sun. Once again, I would be forced to face these giants and take up the shield of faith, that shield which really is Christ himself. He is the shield, the sword, the belt, the helmet, the entire armor.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
forever. -Psalm 23

And the sun would rise.

His mercies are new every morning.

As the nights and days continued this pattern of fear & despair and then of faith & joy, the Holy Spirit continued to confirm what He was doing. A note from my mother with just a verse… Isaiah 41:10. A note from my mother-in-law with the names of God: Jehovah Jireh – Provider, Jehovah Nissi – Battle fighter, Jehovah Shalom – Giver of Peace, Jehovah Rophe – Healer, Jehovah Tsidkenu – Our Righteousness, Jehovah Shammah – Ever Present One, Jehovah Rohi – Good Shepherd. And after our move, a gift from a friend arrived in the mail… Psalm 23 in beautiful hand lettering. There it was again… the Good Shepherd.

The months continued on as we mixed the regular routine of life with packing boxes, a few every week, slowly setting aside the things we would need for the trip. And then came the news that my Dad was diagnosed with a low level of cancer. I couldn’t bear to be so far from him if he was to go through testing and treatment. I was at the end of myself.

At the edge of my bed that night, Craig and I started to brainstorm about other possibilities for him to get his seminary degree. It was then that he said we could move back to the coast so we could be closer to my family and then he could do his degree online. We were ecstatic. Could this really be happening? The plans were set in motion and our compass was turned westward and we started the arduous search for a rental home and setting up contacts at a church where we could officially come “under care” during his seminary studies which was a requirement for online study.

It was 2 weeks before the move “back home” and we still had not found a rental home. We had no place to live, and the rental requirements had changed putting us in a position where we could not rent without a cosigner, work to make enough money for the county requirements, and go to seminary full or even part time to make this work. Rental homes were too expensive, owners weren’t getting back to us. Craig’s trips to search out a place back home were coming up with no options. We were stuck, as if all the roads we had tried to go down were now vanishing before our eyes.

It was there on the porch of Craig’s parents’ home in mid-May that we sat after a long day of work, as the kids ran around on the lawn around us, that we made the only decision that was left to us… which really wasn’t a decision afterall, but a clear direction. We would return to our original plan of moving to the mid-west, where there would be an affordable apartment unit waiting for our family, a close-knit community ready to receive us for these 4 years of intense study. God gave us inexplainable peace. He had shown us the way. We had been rerouted. And though we don’t know exactly why, we know that in God’s wisdom, it was the way He chose to bring this about.

We had two weeks to prepare, get paperwork going for healthcare, plan out the roadtrip, the clothing bins, the food bins for our three day journey across the country. A few days before we left, my daughter came down with a double ear infection, then my son. While we were at the doctor office, I decided to just get us all checked. I was also coming down with an ear infection and our one year old had traces of pneumonia found after a chest X-ray. It was all I could do to keep going. After several visits to the doctor and pharmacy that day, my prayers were desperate. We were leaving in the morning with an ill family and in need of doctor checkups. Once we crossed out of the state, our healthcare provision would be gone.

“Lord, You are the only One who can get us across the country in one piece. Please heal us and keep us well and bring us safely to our new home. You are the Good Shepherd.” These types of prayers filled my every waking moment and my prayers as I fell asleep each night. Knowing the cost of healthcare bills without insurance, my heart was tempted to worry. God was bringing us in complete and loving dependance on Him alone. Our sweet Father, in all His wisdom, knew exactly what was required.

With our moving van packed up, our truck packed with our four children, clothing bins, necessities, books and games for the kids, presents from the Nanas and Papas for the road trip, and a cooler filled with ice and medicine, we started out early that morning, that morning where His mercies were new again, with excitement and joy, following our Good Shepherd into all that He had for us, following our Provider into a life of increased sacrifice and requiring increased faith for an unknown journey.

It was a morning of worship and singing as we drove out, me driving the truck full of children and music and a mug of coffee, following behind my fearless leader husband as he drove the moving truck full of all our earthly possessions. We arrived, safe and sound, into a land of blessing, provision, joy, new trials, and sweet comforts from the Lord. This is home for now, the place the Good Shepherd prepared for us.

The year of our Lord, 2015, has been a year of knowing Christ as the Good Shepherd. Dwelling in the reality of Psalm 23 and experiencing Him as the Good Shepherd has forever deepened my relationship with Him. He continues to show us the reality of His tender love, provision, protection, comfort, and joy.

The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy. Psalm 126:3

Red Rustic Jingle Bells

Red rustic jingle bells hung on the tree by your sweet little fingers, so small and so eager. The Christmas music is playing as we dance around the room. You pull out the ornaments that are treasured each year. “Remember this one we made?” you say as you laugh out loud. Your faces are glowing with excitement. Little hands reaching high to help, to put that ornament on just so.

Creating memories. No gold or perfection, its not even a real tree this year. Its not even that tall! But I couldn’t ask for a more lovely tree because its full of your handiwork. And I will gaze on these ornaments for the rest of my Christmases. Memories made from years past, handmade ornaments that we’ve crafted with love as we’ve woven in the story of a Babe come to Earth.

An ornament breaks as it falls to the ground, and another one. I saw that one coming and probably should have intercepted it. But I rush to the fixes with words of kindness and comfort, vacuum up messes, and carry on. A few final touches and we’re almost done. Paper angels, and pipe cleaner candy canes, styrofoam snowmen, and glitter faces.

“Beautiful!” I proclaim as we stand to admire and take a picture in front of it. Your smiling faces light up mine. You’ve made it unique, beautiful, special, and full of new memories made. Just like my childhood memories of decorating the family tree, my mama turning on the record player or cassette tape, the hilarity and dancing around the tree, hanging ornaments on my sisters, wrapping up our dog with Christmas lights, and throwing faux snow onto the tree (…and then onto each other)!

Each year, as we decorate our tree, we are decorating your childhood with precious memories.