Five Minute Friday: Broken

Found a spot of quiet this morning, so joining in with Lisa-Jo and the other Five Minute Friday folks over here.  Come on over to read some beautiful pieces on the prompt: Broken.

Here is my offering:

In just two days, three men packed everything we own into boxes.  The speed at which they worked impressed me.  I would go run an errand and when I returned, the kitchen would be completely boxed up, which is a task that could have taken me weeks to accomplish.

“Could you show me your high value items?” the lead guy asked us as we walked through the house together.  My eyes scanned bookshelves, glanced into drawers, mentally ticking through our belongings. 

What do we own that is of value?

We do have a gorgeous set of Noritake china that my husband’s grandfather brought back from Japan after WWII.  And I suppose I have a few pieces of jewelry that you could say are “high value”. 

Walking through the rooms of our home, I thought how the high value items in my life were not going to be boxed up by these jovial gentlemen, but were, instead, sitting right there at the table, with bed heads and wearing jammies, eating their last breakfast in our little blue house. 

My husband, my children, the relationships we have been celebrating with good-bye dinners and see-you-later lunches: they can’t be wrapped in bubble wrap and placed just so in a box.  I won’t unwrap them on an afternoon in Maryland.  But I do hold them in my heart as tenderly as I hope those packers placed our china in a box.   

And if the china gets broken?  Or the pearls misplaced?

I’m OK with that. 

broken bread, poured-out wine

Nearly 20 years ago on my 21^st birthday, my dear friend gave me a gift I treasure to this day, a book in which she wrote these words:

Dearest Amy, May this book help you grow closer to your Heavenly Father as you learn to be “carefully careless” about everything but your relationship with Him.” 

The book, My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers (or OC as I like to call him) is my favorite devotional companion (not counting the Bible, of course).  I am spending time with OC again this summer, finding gems on a daily basis.  Here is one from today:

“…I am free only that I may be an absolute bondservant of His.’ That is the characteristic of a Christian’s life once this level of spiritual honor and duty becomes real. Quit praying about yourself and spend your life for the sake of others as the bondservant of Jesus. That is the true meaning of being broken bread and poured-out wine in real life.”

I love the phrase, “broken bread and poured-out wine”, how it connects the elements of communion with living a life of service and sacrifice.  In the physical act of communion, we remember the sacrifice of Jesus as we chew and swallow the bread, as the liquid slips down our throats.  Chambers urges us to live our lives as committed-for-life servants of Jesus.  Jesus showed us the way to do this, not just in His ultimate sacrifice, but in the others-focused life of service He lived.

Personally, I like to keep my loaves whole and intact, my wine bottle neatly corked and stored on the shelf.  But living as broken bread and poured-out wine means, instead, being willing to be broken, divided, chewed, consumed; being poured out as rich liquid for the nourishment and sustenance of others.

This pouring out, this breaking looks different in our individual lives.  It can be asking a calm question instead of retaliating with a sharp word; responding graciously to an ungracious child; waiting patiently for someone who is serving us, at an appointment or a business, recognizing that they are people, valuing them over our schedules; signing up for the not-so-glamorous job at church; or forgoing sleep because a friend needs to talk late into the night.

I am reminded of Paul’s words in Romans 12:1, NIV:   

Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.

We are facing some crazy things in our lives right now, even over and above the cross-country move.  I long for communion, for the peace of abiding with Christ.  Living as broken bread and poured-out wine means that in the sacrifice, right there in the breaking and the pouring, is the communion I am desperate for.  Here in the sorting and parenting and the towering pile of unknowns, in the daily sacrifice of serving and interruptions and plans gone awry, there is Christ.  

a little more clear

I remember the day had been long.  It was July 3^rd, two and a half months after first learning my husband was selected to teach at the Naval Academy.  We lay in bed, quiet words passing back and forth between us.  We were still waiting for Naval orders making the move official, allowing us to schedule movers and plan a move date.  Since April, we had come up with enough scenarios and what ifs to fill a book.  That night it felt like we stood at the dark end of a long road, with no knowledge of what would happen next or which way to go.

When you are completely at the end of yourself, in that dark place of not seeing, not knowing, what then?

Fingers intertwined, we prayed together, acknowledging that no matter what happened, we loved God and wanted His best, wanted His glory and His good in our lives.  Our sleep that night was more peaceful than it had been in a long time.

The next day dawned sunny and bright, our favorite holiday, July 4^th.  I was in the kitchen peeling peaches to add to the homemade ice cream.  My husband is the ice cream maker around here, so when I finished, I went to find him to tell him all was ready.  He met my eyes over his laptop, saying, “Just got my orders!  Ice cream is going to have to wait a bit.”

I literally fell to my knees in gratitude.  “Yes!” I exclaimed.  “Thank you, oh, thank you, God!

So, a week from tomorrow movers will come, pack our things, load them up and ship them off to the East Coast.  We have been preparing in literally a million different ways, but today after church things are going to get serious.  I am going to tackle the kids rooms’…and my closet.  Though we don’t have to do the actual packing, we want to make sure that the things that are packed are worth moving. 

It feels as though the things we are going through right now are searing something into the marrow of my bones, deep and precious things about God and His character, a clearer understanding of living by faith, trusting God moment by moment, not putting my faith and hope in scenarios I construct about my future, but like a trusting child, slipping my hand into God’s strong one, being content right there.

light through a prism

It was my hope that sometime during our recent family vacation at the beach we would receive information from the Navy that would tell us when exactly we would move.  Instead, while standing in the hot sun in the ticket line at Sea World, we got a phone call letting us know the orders are coming, yes they are, they are just delayed.  We do know a few general things about our move: we are moving to Annapolis; we will move in July; and we have a long drive ahead of us.  We can’t schedule movers without the information we are waiting for.  So we wait.  And we are hourly aware of how much we are not in control.

We returned from a glorious, warm, sunshiney week at the beach to a broiling heat wave.  It was 93 degrees as we drove to church this morning.  I miss the beach.

The prism of knowing we are going to move throws colorful lights and winking shadows on the walls of my daily life.  Driving around town, memories from the past thirteen years flash through my mind, the light of joy, the shadow of sorrow.  At church, I linger longer than usual, noticing the shine and flash of the faces of my friends at church, wanting to remember his contagious laugh, her kind eyes, the way she always asks the right questions, his genuine smile. 

I’ve been wondering why this long wait, why this strange place of knowing something is going to happen, but not knowing when.  Today at church a friend and I comforted one another with the knowledge that, though we often aren’t told the reason, we can be confidant there is a reason.  

And so in this time of waiting we have found amazing renters for our home here; we have located what looks to be the ideal house for us in Annapolis, with a wonderful owner who has been more than kind to us already.  Good, loving homes have been found for three pets we have to leave behind, and we have had time to crate train our big dog that is accompanying us on our move.  We are hosting sleepovers, sending our oldest to youth camp, fixing sprinklers and going through closets.

There is no wasted time.  Everyday is a gift, shot through with His light.  Even these dog days of summer when the not knowing feels a weighty load to bear.      

Five Minute Fridays: Rhythm

Grateful this morning for time to sit and write, and for the opportunity to link up with Lisa-Jo and the rockin' community of writers that gather at her place every Friday.  The rules are simple: write for 5 minutes flat - no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking; link back here and invite others to join in; and then absolutely, no ifs ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you and encourage them in their comments. 

So here we go, five minutes on the prompt Rhythm:

My life’s music sounds discordant these days, like two different songs being played at the same time.  I hear the familiar musical melody of family life in summer, the hours and days tapping out the steady notes of swimming and BBQ’s, croquet after dinner in the evening light, later bedtimes for everyone.  As I dance to the familiar summer-days music, I am also hearing and responding to a completely different sound, the throbbing bass line of anxiety made up of all the unknowns about our up-coming cross country move.  The deep, driving notes pound relentlessly, the thrumming push of urgent tasks, endless phone calls, decisions to be made, closets to be cleaned out, and over all the constant wail of not knowing.

Daily the discord builds, the longing for the blessed relief when the chords of unknowing will resolve, finally, into knowing.

I am waiting, dancing through these days, keeping my eyes on the One conducting this orchestra, the Maestro whose original music is playing, who knows where all these crazy notes lead.

God-sized Dreams: what I have learned, and an update

The first post I wrote as part of the God-sized dream team was on November 14^th, 2012.  I had no clear vision back then of what being on the team would be like or how it would affect my life.  I did know from reading Holley’s blog that I appreciated her perspective, and that something in the description of what the team would be had called to me and drawn me out of my shell where I found the courage to push send on my application.

Simply being chosen was awesome, and if things had stopped there, I would have been pleased.  Being chosen gave me a boost of confidence and renewed hope for what God could do through me.  And yet, there was more.

Here are just three of the many things I have learned over the past six months:

Facebook can be a force for community and encouragement and friendship!  I am eager to meet these dream-sisters in real life at Allume because of the connection we have formed in our group.

Generosity is contagious.  This team was formed with the larger goal of helping Holley promote her new book, which was officially released in March.  To reach that goal, Holley gave us words of encouragement, the weekly  writing prompts for our Tuesday link-ups, advance copies of her ebook and book, and a kind of arms-wide-open, “let me gather you up into this good thing God is doing” mentality that rubbed off on our group in big ways.  With Holley’s leadership our group became a safe place for us, a place where generosity flourished.  Within our group there have been guest post opportunities, giveaways, prayers requested and prayed, and a general spirit of lifting one another up as we all pursue the dreams God has put in our hearts.  This team has been a place of generous love and encouragement, a place characterized by the Spirit of Christ.

Words are powerful.  I read blogs regularly because I love stories and people and glimpses into lives often so different from my own.  The God-sized dream team has reminded me of the value of encouraging words.  When I know that Mel or Kayse or Elizabeth has visited my site and left their sweet fragrance behind in their words of encouragement, it is like a friend stopping by my house for a bit, coming in, accepting my offer of something homemade, and sitting down for a quick chat.  We may not be face to face, but threads of friendship and community ARE being woven together comment by comment, encouraging word by encouraging word.  I have loved this part of our group.

*************

Way back in November, I wrote this: I have a specific dream to submit my writing to (in)courage or another Christian website (I need to do some more research...suggestions gladly welcomed!).

I am happy to say that I have done this very thing!  And this is true: without this team, I cannot imagine that I would have drummed up the confidence in myself to submit my writing to another venue.  But not only have I submitted to (in)courage, I have also guest posted (thank you,Laurie!), signed up to go to a blogging conference (Allume!  Woohoo!), and gained enough clarity and vision for my writing that I can talk about it with others who don't automatically “get it” like my dream-team sisters do.

To Holley and all my dream-team sisters, thank you!!  Though things may “officially” be wrapping up, I look forward to remaining connected and encouraging one another in the pursuit of our God-sized dreams.

  

Five Minute Friday: View

Love this community of writers!  Fridays are my favorite...

Joining Lisa-Jo and the Five Minute Friday community today.  When I saw the prompt for today, View, this story from years ago popped into my mind.

Here are my five minutes (OK, it took me a bit longer than five minutes today):

In the Spring, she breezed through our offices, buckets of daffodils in hand, leaving vases crammed full of cheerfulness on our desks.  She was old enough to be my Mom, but had the energy and verve of a woman half her age.  Sitting on her screened in porch and listening to the summer rain, she taught me to knit.  Her dogs were her babies, and in my friendship with her, I glimpsed a life lived to the full.  She was a master gardener, a skilled knitter, with a contagious laugh and a generous spirit.

The daffodils were gathered from the thousands she planted on her property in the outskirts of Madison, WI.  One day we drove out there together so she could give me a tour.  Her gardens were breathtaking, looking both cultivated and perfectly natural alongside the wooded setting of her tri-level home.   At the back of the house, she showed me one of her favorite things: the outdoor shower.  It was a new concept for me.  I stood there on the wooded deck, looking at the shower head coming out of the house wall, the loofah hanging from a hook, the shampoo bottle in the caddy…and I felt a kind of shock and awe, realizing that the woods surrounding the house were the only shower curtains to be had.

I pictured that special, secluded place again months later when my friend told me that her neighbors decided to cut down the stand of trees shielding her yard from theirs.  She joked that she was going to continue her habit of outdoor showering so they would wish they had never cut down those trees.  At least, I think she was joking.

  

Perhaps her neighbors were like me,  desperate for a clearer view. I want to see what is on the other side of the obstacles in my path.  I imagine it will be so lovely, the view beyond what I can see. 

Then in my mind I see one of my friends’ neighbors waking early one morning, opening the curtain to survey his lovely view, and getting more of a view than he bargained for.  I laugh.  And I decide that I am just fine here with my obstructed view, waiting for things to clear up at the right time.