In which these are a few of my favourite things

Since I've been rather tired and sick (rather!), I am going to cheer myself up immensely this morning.

*cues up the Julie Andrews music*

These are a few of my favourite things...

• The cool side of the pillow.
• A morning with no alarm clock set.
• Reading books with my wee Anne-girl.
• When my sheets are clean and tucked in (no small feat when your husband is 6'5" and promptly kicks the tucked in sheets out so his feet can hang off the end of the bed on his side).
• Those quick phone calls with family and friends about "what temperature do you bake this at?" and "turn on the TV - Anne Murray is on" and "I just saw this billboard and it cracked me up" because you've already had/are having the big covnersations and so can just call each other about something dumb for a quick minute.
• Good smells like during a snowfall, fresh cut grass, baking, clean babies and their milky smell.
• Seeing someone breastfeed in public.
• Making things with my own two hands.
• Inspiration in the oddest places like when I am in a meeting at work but scribbling a poem on the back of the meeting agenda.
• Cathedrals, stained glass and "high church rituals" like liturgy as a supplement.
• A sparkling clean bathroom.
• Going out for supper with Brian.
• Swimming in a lake.
• Spending a whole day with my family.
• Hearing Anne talk especially when she says "Mumma" and snuggles in close.
• Eating vegetables and fruit that is locally grown.
• Tim Horton's iced capps
• Being able to have some margin in my life (a greater space between my load and my limit)
• Spending an entire evening reading a good book
• A mighty fine pinot noir...not that I'll get to indulge that one for quite a while...
• Books. They just make me happy. Even seeing a stack of them or meeting another lover of books makes me feel good.
• Comments on my blog.
• Crossing stuff - even small stuff - off of my to-do list.
• Granny Smith apples and caramel
• Comfort food like shepherds pie, beef stew, roast chickens, roast beef etc.
• Facebook
• Travel mugs for coffee/tea
• Pretty Kleenex boxes
• A sunny day
• Those beautiful pink trees in Vancouver
• Taking a long lunch to read while sitting on the steps of the Art Gallery
• Talking with Brian...somehow we never run out of stuff to say or things to laugh about.
• When people laugh at my jokes
• Big, crazy worship gatherings with lights and music and big, hairy worship songs with people dancing, kneeling, singing at the top of their lungs.
• Universal healthcare
• Quality stationary and funky note cards...which leads to....
• Getting notes and letters in the mail
• Poetry
• Drinking tea out of real china cups
• Authenticity
• A balanced budget with money in the bank
• Live concerts in small venues...hate the big stadiums, love acoustic shows
• Travelling to new places
• Eating at local hideaways that no one else knows about
• Walking to the grocery store, the coffee shops etc.
• Living in an urban neighbourhood
• Good conversations
• Humility and mercy
• Love
• Listening to Ed Gungor's sermons on iTunes
• When our recycling bag is bigger and heavier than our tiny trash bag
• Nice smelling lotions
• Spring flowers in Vancouver...the entire city feels perfumed.
• Using a prepaid card at the coffee shops somehow makes me feel like its free coffee?
• A morning without throwing up...rare indeed
• Travel books
• Being productive and then relaxing.
• Being unique...just like everyone else...
• Beautiful script handwriting
• And many, many more things!

In which we are in Week 14

I figure I'll try to relegate the pregnancy related stuff to just a 'once-a-week' blogging so as to not bore you all to tears. I did this during my pregnancy with Anne and I still enjoy going back to read over our thoughts and fears, prayers and experiences. So I figure that I want to do the same thing with #2.

Physically: I've heard people say that they progressively get tired-er with each pregnancy. If I'm this tired with my second, my heart goes out to that crazy lady in Arkansas who has 18 children. I am still throwing up with great violence and consistency. I'm much sicker with this pregnancy than I was with Anne. With Anne, I was sick from week 6-14 but just 1-2 times a day. And it would come on me, I'd barf and then go back on my merry way, none the worse. But I carry a vague nausea all day with this one and have often thrown up 2-3 times a day. I am managing to eat in the afternoons a bit more but my appetite isn't there. I also have more "urgency" for throwing up - throwing up, as mentioned in previous posts, on SkyTrain platforms, on my own pants, in alleyways etc. Good times. I'm hopeful it will start to wind down soon. Right???

Miscellaneous Details: We managed to get in with our old OB-GYN again which is good news. I was seriously contemplating a midwife and home birth this time around but came to the conclusion it just wasn't necessary. If I was in the States still, I would absolutely do that because I didn't find the medical establishment there very supportive of our priorities. But our doctors, hospitals and nurses actually follow a policy that reflects our priorities (for instance, we really value co-sleeping for the first few months and they do as well. As a result, there isn't a nursery for babies; they must sleep in your room. The only kids not in their Mummy's rooms are in NICU.). So since they are all so pro-breastfeeding, pro-vaginal natural birth, anti-episeotomy etc., we feel very confident remaining "in the system". It's a very supportive system. No great relationship with my doctor at all, no personal side, but she's a damn fine doctor. Somehow she managed to deliver a nearly 9 pound baby that was sunny-side up with only 3 stitches. That qualifies her as a miracle worker in my book. I think any other hospital or doctor would have had me in emergency C-section hours earlier, but she just let my body take its course and kept it calm and moving along. As a result, we had a great experience that I would be happy with again. Hopefully without the 3 hours of hard pushing to get out a side-ways baby though...just saying. (Hear that, Two? RIGHT SIDE UP THIS TIME!)

Emotionally: I feel like this pregnancy is flying by. I can't really believe how quickly it's going past. I suppose that I can attribute that to how quickly the days go when you are busy and have an extraordinary toddler on the go as well. Between a very busy career, aforementioned wee girl, a marriage that demands time and energy, a house that requires cleaning, a fridge and bellies that need filling, meals that need planning, church that needs attending and volunteering, family and friends that need relationship-ing and it adds up to one tired, bleary-eyed Mumma. I feel like my life has hit fast-forward somehow. I feel a bit sad about it because I had a lot of time during my pregnancy with Anne to reflect, read, pray and generally enjoy the moment. I would read all about where we at each day, development charts and photos, pray for each part, etc. This time? I go through whole days on end when my only thought about pregnancy is "Dear God, please let me stop barfing". I need to try to make more space for those things for this one; I don't want him/her to feel short-changed or less important. I want to try to replicate some special memories for the kids - having a surprise about their gender (it's no fun to have one sibling get the "it's a girl!" birth story and the other one doesn't), for instance - but this may be impossible.

I wonder how it will feel becoming a mother for the second time. You only become a mother for the first time once. Your oldest is the one that made you a Mum. Your second must have a different dynamic to it. Plus it's helping your first navigate a new baby as well. But even though it's not the "first time", that has its own positives as well, I think. For instance, I know how to breastfeed and feel very confident. I'm not freaked out about giving birth. I'm really excited to have a little baby in the house again. I don't feel that same vague sense of panic about whether or not I'll really be able to do this. So the fear and apprehension isn't there at all. I think Anne will be a wonderful big sister as I see with other kids and babies and she's very gentle and loving, quick to share and engage. But neither is the energy and the "firstness" of the pregnancy there either. It's definitely different. Not better or worse but different.

In which I share my birthday with a sad anniversary

Even though it's my birthday (yay!), I can't think about this day without profound sadness and prayer for the world as it relates to the war in Iraq. After all, 5 years ago today, the war in Iraq began. I was turning 24 and living in south Texas at the time. My sister came to visit me as I was all alone that week (she made my traditional carrot cake but realised she'd forgotten to buy carrots. So rather than go back to the store to buy the 5 carrots required, she grated almost 55 baby-carrots into the cake batter. That's love, my friend, that's love.)

The reason I was alone is that my husband was on a clandestine trip to Beijing to smuggle Bibles and study materials to the underground church. We had no contact for almost 3 weeks as he travelled, preached, prayed and met with other believers. During those weeks, the SARS outbreak occurred in the neighbouring region. And then bombs started to fall in Iraq. Good times. (He told me later about a moving encounter that night, in an underground church. There were a couple of Iraqis there with the Chinese brothers & sisters. Together with the Americans, they met together and prayed for peace. Very powerful.)

At the time, the political climate was so strongly in favour of military-based, unilateral action (especially where I lived). I heard preached from several pulpits that this was "just war" and that it was the "American thing to do". I remember actually being angry when I would leave church meetings because I felt like it was a lie and wrong.  Pamphlets and leaflets stuffed our mailbox. I worked in a military-based bank so I loved and "got" the military, developing an abiding understanding and respect for their life and values.  I grieved for what I suspected was ahead for the enlisted, the officers and the national guard. But the feeling since 9-11 was robust, flag-waving patriotism, confusion and murkiness of the lines between being American and being Christian (weren't they synonymous?) and a general sense of fate, moving the whole thing forward in a perfect storm of circumstances. There was a strong sense that if you "weren't for us, you were against us". Everyone was swept up in the propaganda on both sides and it felt inexorable.

I didn't talk a lot about my sentiments regarding the war at the time. However, I strongly disagreed with the reasoning for the war. I didn't believe it was a just war at all from a Biblical and traditionally Christian standpoint. I had huge concerns with the isolationist, military isolation policy that the administration was taking. I wished I was brave enough to go to the minimally-attended protests in our area. I prayed a lot. I had a hard time articulating at the time why I was so against this decision. I think I was afraid of what our church and our friends would think of me because "everyone" was Republican and "everyone" was pro-invasion. I felt young and unable to voice my opinions to anyone other than family. I was so uncomfortable and anxious in those months after 9-11 like a lot of people all over the world as we watched this perfect storm gather. The world that I travelled in while living the States changed profoundly in just a few years - from the relative peace and economic stability of the late 90s to the world we now live in - those changes happened quickly. After 9-11, everything shifted including sentiment. I almost felt I couldn't voice a different opinion because I'd be seen as "un-American" or "unpatriotic". And I was quietly proud that Canada didn't send troops to Iraq (we were in Afghanistan and still are, in the most dangerous regions while the rest of NATO buries their heads in the sand but that's another post) despite the derision voiced by Fox News.

I remember being so moved by Senator Robert Byrd's speech at that time. A lot has happened since then - denigration to civil war, a struggle for democracy, victories and defeats. Now that the Americans are there, I don't see how they just arbitrarily pull out on a set-date. The mess has been created so they better help clean it up. But it still makes me ache, makes me sad and is, I believe, a moment in history that will take a long time to recover from. I ache for the men and women and children of Iraq and for the men and women of the military especially. We have no idea what they endure.

---

Senator Robert Byrd:

I believe in this beautiful country. I have studied its roots and gloried in the wisdom of its magnificent Constitution. I have marveled at the wisdom of its founders and framers. Generation after generation of Americans has understood the lofty ideals that underlie our great Republic. I have been inspired by the story of their sacrifice and their strength.

But, today I weep for my country. I have watched the events of recent months with a heavy, heavy heart. No more is the image of America one of strong, yet benevolent peacekeeper. The image of America has changed. Around the globe, our friends mistrust us, our word is disputed, our intentions are questioned.

Instead of reasoning with those with whom we disagree, we demand obedience or threaten recrimination. Instead of isolating Saddam Hussein, we seem to have isolated ourselves. We proclaim a new doctrine of preemption which is understood by few and feared by many. We say that the United States has the right to turn its firepower on any corner of the globe which might be suspect in the war on terrorism. We assert that right without the sanction of any international body. As a result, the world has become a much more dangerous place.

We flaunt our superpower status with arrogance. We treat U.N. Security Council members like ingrates who offend our princely dignity by lifting their heads from the carpet. Valuable alliances are split. After war has ended, the United States will have to rebuild much more than the country of Iraq. We will have to rebuild America's image around the globe.

The case this Administration tries to make to justify its fixation with war is tainted by charges of falsified documents and circumstantial evidence. We cannot convince the world of the necessity of this war for one simple reason. This is a war of choice.

There is no credible information to connect Saddam Hussein to 9/11. The twin towers fell because a world-wide terrorist group, al-Qaida, with cells in over 60 nations, struck at our wealth and our influence by turning our own planes into missiles, one of which would likely have slammed into the dome of this beautiful Capitol except for the brave sacrifice of the passengers on board.

The brutality seen on September 11th and in other terrorist attacks we have witnessed around the globe are the violent and desperate efforts by extremists to stop the daily encroachment of western values upon their cultures. That is what we fight. It is a force not confined to borders. It is a shadowy entity with many faces, many names, and many addresses.

But, this Administration has directed all of the anger, fear, and grief which emerged from the ashes of the twin towers and the twisted metal of the Pentagon towards a tangible villain, one we can see and hate and attack. And villain he is. But, he is the wrong villain. And this is the wrong war. If we attack Saddam Hussein, we will probably drive him from power. But, the zeal of our friends to assist our global war on terrorism may have already taken flight.

The general unease surrounding this war is not just due to "orange alert." There is a pervasive sense of rush and risk and too many questions unanswered. How long will we be in Iraq? What will be the cost? What is the ultimate mission? How great is the danger at home? A pall has fallen over the Senate Chamber. We avoid our solemn duty to debate the one topic on the minds of all Americans, even while scores of thousands of our sons and daughters faithfully do their duty in Iraq.

What is happening to this country? When did we become a nation which ignores and berates our friends? When did we decide to risk undermining international order by adopting a radical and doctrinaire approach to using our awesome military might? How can we abandon diplomatic efforts when the turmoil in the world cries out for diplomacy?

Why can this President not seem to see that America's true power lies not in its will to intimidate, but in its ability to inspire?

War appears inevitable. But, I continue to hope that the cloud will lift. Perhaps Saddam will yet turn tail and run. Perhaps reason will somehow still prevail. I along with millions of Americans will pray for the safety of our troops, for the innocent civilians in Iraq, and for the security of our homeland. May God continue to bless the United States of America in the troubled days ahead, and may we somehow recapture the vision which for the present eludes us.

 

In which I share one of my favourite moments in the Bible

I wonder if it's because I fancy myself a writer that I am more drawn to the written word of God than any other sacrament? I also find my peace in silence and solitude, giving, and community. But Scripture has always somehow been God's primary way of speaking to my heart. I "see" it somehow, in my heart of hearts, and it writes itself on me there.

As a result, I have a lot of favourite passages of Scripture as my well-worn and underlined Bible (as befits any girl brought up "word of faith"!) will attest. I spend most of my time in the Psalms but really, the entire canon ministers to me in every facet, challenges me, encourages me, inspires me, changes me and transforms me more and more into a disciple.

But with this week being Holy Week, I've got to share one of my very favourite parts of the Bible as it's moment in the church calendar is coming up.

But Jesus, again crying out loudly, breathed his last. At that moment, the Temple curtain was ripped in two, top to bottom. There was an earthquake, and rocks were split in pieces. Matthew 27:50-51

I absolutely get shivers when I read this. It's just after Jesus has died on the cross. It's Friday night. It looks like everything is over. He's begged God not to forsake him and has died, alone and judged.

And at that moment, in the Holy of Holies in the temple, the veil that separates the Presence of God from Man is torn completely in two. There is no longer a barrier between us and God. We are now swept up in the Presence of God, no restraints, no barriers. He's gone beyond the barriers to a waiting world.

See what I mean? See why this matters to me?

There's nothing between me and God anymore. I can - as a Gentile and a woman even! - freely approach the throne of Grace and find Mercy for my sins and Rest for my weary soul, Salvation for all of me. The death of Jesus removed at that instant the veil between the Holy God and the world.

Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let's not let it slip through our fingers. We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help. Hebrews 4:15-16

He's so faithful.

In which I find kindness while throwing up

A lot of people ask me "What is one of the things you miss about Texas?" I could say our friends (because I do miss them terribly), our church, our house, the cost of living or even Sonic Lemon-Berry Slushes. Tangent potential here...really, there's a lot of food we miss from the States - Grist Mill's beef tenderloin sandwiches, Mamacita's flautas, a good breakfast taco, just good salsa and chips period...I don't think I've had a decent chip or queso in two years..I could go on! Anyway, I actually have to say that we miss the friendliness of people the most.

I think I was hugged more in my first month in Texas than I was in my entire life previous.

Seriously. I would meet people for the first time and they'd hug. Everyone hugs everyone else. I would run into people in the grocery store and they'd hug me. I'd meet someone and they'd hug me. People were very warm and gracious. They laughed really loudly, talked gregariously, were quick to laugh at themselves and generally showed a real lack of self-consciousness. I was absolutely intrigued. To them, I was always the "standoffish" Canadian; an anomaly because I'd stick out my hand for a shake (which they would stare at and then guffaw before galloping me into a rib-cracking hug).

It wasn't just the hugging. They all talk to each other. I come from a world where you DO NOT make eye contact with strangers. On the SkyTrain, we will literally be packed in like sardines and yet it's completely, eerily silent. All of a sudden, complete strangers would strike up conversations with me, like we were old friends. For the first few months that I was there, I lived in a constant fear that I was talking to people that knew me from church and I just didn't remember their names. Nope. They really were strangers. People chatted at restaurants, across tables. If you shopped, you chatted in the line. If you were on a walk or at the park, you'd at least make eye contact and smile if nothing else. There was a tremendous openness that I not only got used to but came to love. I became really quick to hug people - even at work! - and strike up conversations. I'd pepper my conversations with personal tidbits or facts. Professionalism that I had learned earlier seemed pretentious and icy compared to the warmth I encountered everyday.

So then we moved back home. I was back in the land of "don't make eye contact, don't talk to people you don't know and for pity's sake, never smile at anyone". We had a hard time adjusting. We're still the ones at the playground that just start chatting with people and I'm still the one that hugs people at work. (Heck, I even say things like "Bless your heart..." now!) Often, when we are out, we note people that need help and no one ever helps them. One day, a woman that was high on drugs came into the coffee shop and had a meltdown. She was about 6 feet tall and rather dangerous. The poor little girls at the shop were maybe 5'3" and couldn't handle her or get her out of the store. There were at least three men in that store but not one of them even looked up from their coffee or bothered to back up the little girls at the shop. They just let it all unfold without feeling a need to step in. (Eventually the police arrived.) People drive past accidents, walk past blind people trying to get on the bus, won't pick up your umbrella if you drop it and never ever make eye contact. (I'm painting a bleak picture..it's not quite this bad but feels like it after Texas!).

Anyway, I've been really sick with this pregnancy. I was sick with Anne too but that was just morning sickness. Now I'm sick all day and usually several times a day. Anyway, I had to get off the SkyTrain one morning and dash down the platform before throwing up all over my shoes. I couldn't get to the trash quick enough so I heaved all over the platform and myself, in the pouring rain. I was completely soaked and very, very sick. 30 people walked past me and never said a word while I tried to clean up and kind of cried while feeling sorry for myself.

This week, the same thing happened again. I dashed off the train at Edmonds and ran into the parking lot this time. I hung over the plants and threw up for a while. About 10 people walked right past me. Then a mini-van pulled up. It was dark green and at least 15 years old. A couple about my age were inside. The man leaped out and ran over to me with concern etched on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked in a strong Mexican accent. "Can we take you somewhere? Maybe the hospital or even home?"

I kind of laughed, embarrassed by the mess I'd made and said "Oh, no! Really, I'm fine. I'm just 3 months pregnant and sick all the time right now. I'm sorry." (Ah, the requisite Canadian apology...)

His entire face lit up.

"You're PREGNANT?" he said. "That's wonderful! Congratulations! What a blessing! Here, hold on."

He ran back to his wife and she handed him a bunch of napkins and bunched up Kleenex. He raced back to me and shoved them in my hands.

"Well, are you sure you're okay? I mean, congratulations! This is just wonderful news!" He was so excited and completely animated. His wife was smiling broadly and waving at me, giving me the thumbs-up sign.

I ended up thanking them and assuring them I was fine to get back on the train and continue to work. They stayed to make sure I got on okay and then drove off.

I was so blessed by the encounter. Just something as simple as giving me a hunk of kleenex while I was throwing up seemed like the kindest of actions.

In which I share our secret

Yes, we had a secret. But now I'm ready to share - we're pregnant!

12 weeks to be exact. I wanted to wait to say anything this time as we just got over our miscarriage. It's basically a miracle pregnancy, I think. Basically I got pregnant about a week after the miscarriage. I hadn't even had a period or anything. It was about 5 weeks after the miscarriage and I was concerned that I hadn't started again (I'm usually like clockwork, even after a miscarriage). The doctors all told me not to worry as it sometimes takes months for your body to 'reset' after a miscarriage. So I left it alone but eventually just took a pregnancy test, fully expecting it to be negative. I just wanted to set my mind at ease so that I could concentrate. Imagine my surprise when it was positive!

Since then, we have had a lot of good signs. I have, to be honest, been sick sick sick sick. I rejoice over it though as it means that things are going well. I am much sicker with this baby than I was with Anne - throwing up all day and absolutely EXHAUSTED. I can hardly stay awake past 8:30 these nights.

We are due right around the middle or end of September. We're tenatively calling a due date at about September 17 but it's hard to say, as we didn't ever have a period. So we're trying to date based off of ultrasounds.

Thanks for the prayers for those of you that knew. Now let the blogging fun of pregnancy begin again!

In which I am learning to respond

When your husband is in seminary, let me assure you, there are some odd discussions that take place. Our friends find it queer that, at any given time, we can be overheard hammering out the issues we have with the theology of election, our concept of the reciprocal nature of the Trinity and whether or not we will, in fact, attend the Reformation Day Party. Peppered into our conversations about how many poops the wee girl has had today and how long she slept at naptime and whether or not we need a litre of milk, Brian will suddenly drop a thought (like we've somehow been discussing it all along?) about why he loves Karl Barth and , why he still, even after years of study at Regent, has not yet accepted Reformed theology. Poor Anne has to listen to our nonsense all the time. She's become a big fan of her Dad though, usually saying "Yep" or laughing after everything he says like he's the smartest guy in the world. I call her the Peanut Gallery and am always hoping to convince her of my intellectual superiority or at least, equality.
Good times.
Anyway, that brings me to the latest thing we've been discussing lately. Brian has been studying reformed theology and specifically election (i.e. God chooses us to be saved - by default, not choosing others). It's a very complex issue and, no doubt, I'd piss off everyone if I tried to sum it up. As we used to say when I worked with a bunch of old Air Force guys, it's above my pay grade. But that doesn't stop us from chasing it around the living room or in the car (again, feel sorry for our children) to our heart's delight. Even after these years of study, we're rather surprised by the fact that we don't agree with it.
As a result, Brian has been working on a thesis about the reciprocal nature of our relationship with God. That, while God invites, we must respond. He likens the journey of faith to a dance...sometimes it's two steps forward and other times it's three steps back. Which means that rarely is our journey of faith a linear thing. In an ideal world, perhaps or in those vile "3 Steps to Knowing You're Saved" books (or, if you're Reformed, "3 Steps to Knowing You're One of the Elect" ).
It's made me try to define my own relationship with God a bit better. If I don't believe (and I don't) that God chooses some to be saved and others to be damned, if I believe that we do have free will and that there are two sides to salvation and faith (God's and ours) then what does that mean? It doesn't mean that I think we save ourselves nor that we are working for our salvation. I do believe in prevenient grace but not irresistible grace....which means that I think that God moves in our hearts long before we're aware of him but we still have the free will to resist that invitation.
And just for the record, I don't think that we, as Christians, have a God box. That the only time the spirit of God enters a room is when we're there. I think God is already at work in the lives of those who wouldn't recognise him. I think that's part of the reason why I am so passionate about giving people the benefit of the doubt - you never know what is going on in their heart of hearts. I really do think that there is prevenient grace all around us, whether we recognise it or not. We don't have distribution rights on God. I remember hearing in a sermon once that all those beautiful things we feel, even before we know God, like falling in love and that joy of having your babies and that thirst we have for justice - those are all God's grace already working in our lives. I like to tell people that when they ask me about my faith. They usually feel so incredibly excluded by Christians. So I like to tell them that God's already in their life and all they have to do is respond to it and recognise it and embrace it for what it is - a gift from God and an invitation to a deeper life of more of that. It's amazing when the relief washes over their face. They KNOW those feelings aren't them and that somehow they feel that yearning for something more, deeper, better and they get flashes of it now and then. They recognise the grace of God when it's identified, especially friends we have that have children. They get it.
Anyway, that's a tangent. I meant to write about the fact that I've come to the conclusion that I see much of the Christian life as response. One of my very favourite quotes from my pastor in university is that "Christianity is not our responsibility. It's our response to God's ability." And that about sums it up for me. I see salvation as a response. I see healing as our bodies responding to God. I see worship as a response. I have come to see a lot of Scripture as invitation. It's like that passage of Scripture about Jesus standing at the door, knocking, waiting for us to open the door. I see everything in my life as God-initiated, a hand out for a turn about the room together, an invitation to be a part of what God wants to do in my life, the relationship he longs to have, the work he's about in the world around me etc.
As I've realised this, it's changed how I view my relationship with God. I want to respond more to his leading. I want to read the Bible more so that I recognise his voice and learn from him. The invitation is always to be like him. That's the essence of discipleship to me: learning to be more like the Father. So that when people need to know what manner of love the Father has given unto us, there is a path to trace in our lives. I think that the more we tie ourselves to Jesus, the more we look like him. It's kind of like a family - you all kind of walk the same, talk the same, use the same gestures. I think that's what the family of God is supposed to be like.
I see so many invitations around me. And I think that God is inviting people - all people - all the time. Sometimes it is a dance of forward and back and other times, it's a straight path. Some people don't even know to identify Jesus as the one they're responding to yet. But God is always inviting.

In which we were wounded but are being healed

It's been a while since I've written about where we're at with ministry. And that's because I started to feel like we couldn't share it. There wasn't much that was "shiny-happy-Jesus-people" about it! We've been out of full-time ministry for two and a half years and we weren't sure where we'd be at the end of seminary. No plans.

This past weekend, my Mum, sister and Auntie all went to a Beth Moore conference. There really aren't words to explain how blessed I was by the entire weekend. The teaching was very profound and seemed somehow "tailor-made" for all four of us but for very different issues. We were all very impacted. We haven't been able to stop talking about it and it seems like every single bit mattered to us. She basically preached the entire weekend on Hebrews 4:12-16. That was it. Just exposition of Scripture. Two days on 5 verses. And man, was it powerful! I miss that kind of teaching a lot. I was so hungry for this. The worship was also great. I haven't been in a large group setting for worship in years; really since we left full-time ministry ourselves. It was wonderful and refreshing. We also just had a great time together. We got to have a lot of laughs and even cry a lot of tears together. I feel so fortunate that my family shares my faith and that my sister in particular is a fellow-journeyer with me. At one point, when Beth was talking about our deepest secrets, she made the remark "What if you had to tell your deepest darkest secrets to that person beside you?" and Mandy and I just smirked. Done. We know it all about it each other and wouldn't change that for the world. I saw my Auntie and my Mum give each other the same secret smile that says "I know all your crap and you know mine. What a wonderful world it is!"

There were two major things that I personally got out of the weekend. One was related to me personally (not sure if I'll write about that or not) and the other was about our journey back towards pastoring which I will share!

As I mentioned above, she taught entirely on Hebrews 4:12-16. For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

The part that stood out to me in that context is "Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing of soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." She brought that around to a few other passages:

See now that I myself am He! There is no god besides me. I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and no one can deliver out of my hand. (Deut. 32:39)

For he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal. (Job 15:18)

She likened it to a doctor resetting a bone. That when something has grown in the wrong direction or healed in the wrong position, it can't do all that it was meant to do. So the doctor will often re-break the arm so that it can heal properly. It's a wounding that occurs in order for there to be true healing. Brian had something similar happen this last week. He hurt his neck rather badly and was incredibly stiff and sore. He went to the chiropractor and, immediately after the doctor cracked and reset his neck, his neck and back were hurting almost worse that before! But within hours, he had movement back and there was none of the ache and residual soreness from before. There was a wounding in order for there to be a healing. There was a separating, a division or a penetrating into us that is of God.

I felt like my eyes were opened. We have referred to the past few years as a "desert" or "deconstruction" (as in, everything we thought we knew was completely dismantled!). But I think I saw for the first time, that this was all God-orchestrated. That there wasn't a mistake or an error or even necessarily an attack of the enemy. I didn't need to clamour to get out as God had something for us there. Because, to be honest, we've been rather wounded.

It started probably back in late 2003 or early 2004 and just seemed to keep building. There were a lot of situations with our church that wounded us deeply. We came out of that, young and disillusioned, weary and exhausted, eager for the few years of sabbatical before we moved back into pastoring. We suffered miscarriages which were devastating for us both. We left our home and started over completely (a new country for Brian) with no friends or contacts. We felt like we had to lay down a lot of dreams and "givens" (as in, of course, we'll own a home, of course I'll get to stay home with our kids, of course we'll be able to be in full-time ministry again right away so Brian can support us, of course church matters, of course people can be trusted, of course we'll have a yard, of course we'll make new friends soon, of course we'll be able to have kids as soon as we start trying, of course we're called to pastor of course of course of course). And one by one, a lot of those have crumbled. We have been lonely. We have had to reconfigure our roles. We lost children we desperately wanted. We were deeply hurt by people we trusted. We left friends we loved and lost friendships. We started over and over and over and over. We both walked a bit different road but felt the same wounding. (BTW, I am aware that things that feel "big" to us seem small by comparison to what others have walked through. I am not trying to glorify us but just be honest about how we've felt and where we've been at. Not to the exclusion or minimizing of another's journey.) Now I don't think for a minute that God has given those things to us, because I am convinced above all else of the goodness of God, but neither were they prevented. There is still an aspect there that God is sovereign. That God has wanted to redeem these things in our lives.

As the first couple of years passed, we even found our certainties regarding our faith leave us. We didn't know what we believed about anything anymore. We became increasingly disillusioned with church and with Christians. It seemed like church was the farthest thing from what Jesus intended. We struggled with doubt about our callings. We often wanted to just pack it up and go back to being "normal". We wondered if we'd ever be in ministry again (and if we even wanted to). We didn't know what we thought about our theology or our tradition or anything anymore. We were questioning everything, including our own motives. It is a lonely place to be.

We wondered if we'd taken a wrong turn somewhere because this was looking and feeling a lot like a desert. Didn't life used to be a lot simpler?!

But over the past few months, I've felt the healing begin. The healing first started with Anne. She is everything to us and her birth and life completely renovated everything about our hearts. We felt open and new again. That major event was the first step forward into fullness. Then we slowly started to be built up again. Seminary was a huge role in this. It was like everything fake had to be stripped down in order for the real to be built up again. We don't feel like we lost everything at all.

It's more of a restoration or renovation than a rebuild, if that makes sense (it does to me as my husband is a carpenter!).

I look at a passage of scripture that has come to mean a lot to me in different seasons of my life.

Isaiah 35

Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days.
The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring crocuses.
Yes, there will be an abundance of flowers
and singing and joy!
The deserts will become as green as the mountains of Lebanon,
as lovely as Mount Carmel or the plain of Sharon.
There the Lord will display his glory,
the splendor of our God.
With this news, strengthen those who have tired hands,
and encourage those who have weak knees.
Say to those with fearful hearts,
“Be strong, and do not fear,
for your God is coming to destroy your enemies.
He is coming to save you.”

And when he comes, he will open the eyes of the blind
and unplug the ears of the deaf.
The lame will leap like a deer,
and those who cannot speak will sing for joy!
Springs will gush forth in the wilderness,
and streams will water the wasteland.
The parched ground will become a pool,
and springs of water will satisfy the thirsty land.
Marsh grass and reeds and rushes will flourish
where desert jackals once lived.

And a great road will go through that once deserted land.
It will be named the Highway of Holiness.
Evil-minded people will never travel on it.
It will be only for those who walk in God’s ways;
fools will never walk there.
Lions will not lurk along its course,
nor any other ferocious beasts.
There will be no other dangers.
Only the redeemed will walk on it.
Those who have been ransomed by the Lord will return.
They will enter Jerusalem singing,
crowned with everlasting joy.
Sorrow and mourning will disappear,
and they will be filled with joy and gladness.

I have felt tired, sorrowful and lonely, full of doubt and grief. But I've learned so much. I don't feel necessarily like we're "Woo hoo! I've got the victory! Let me share my testimony and trust me, you'll need a white hanky!" quite yet. But I feel full and satisfied again. I feel "unstuck". I feel like we have moved into the healing that God had intended all along. I feel better acquainted with Jesus and better acquainted with myself.

The sword of God had cut and separated so much out of our lives. A lot of fat has been carved out. We feel lean but we are leaning on Jesus so much more. The thoughts and attitudes of our hearts were exposed and, in so many ways, we felt splayed out before God. But just like Abraham opened up the animals before God and then God passed between them like a torch, sanctifying and making them holy, I feel like God has redeemed us and is redeeming these things.

We feel called again. We feel encouraged. I don't feel disillusioned or cynical or bitter. I don't have hurt or anger in my heart to those that have hurt or abandoned us. I feel satisfied. I feel happy and at peace, secure in God alone.

I still don't know the end right now. We're still on the journey and I am full aware that the day we open the doors to the church or resume full-time pastoring, that the journey won't end. We will just start a new leg. But I have become very thankful for the wounding, very thankful for the breaking, very thankful for our desert. We have become so much closer and, I feel, so much truer.

I feel authentic for the first time in years.

God has been faithful to us. He has restored us and rebuilt us in so many ways. We are still being restored because, trust me, we've still got some stuff to figure out.

But the desert has bloomed like a rose for us and there is beauty here.