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A Genesis Week from the Chaos of Life – Psalm 51

Posted by Nicole on April 18, 2013

The Psalms are the sample journal – the diary example – from the Bible… honest and full of encouragement to just be REAL. Sometimes they sound like teenage angst. Sometimes they are full of wisdom and perspective. The Bible says that David (most likely the author of the Psalms) was a “man after God’s own heart.” Well, what the Psalms teach me then is that the Creator of the Universe’s heart is BIG and Honest and Complicated.

 

“God, make a fresh start in me,

shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life.

Don’t throw me out with the trash,

or fail to breathe holiness in me.

Bring me back from gray exile,

put a fresh wind in my sails!”
–Psalm 51

 

”A Genesis week from the chaos of my life.”

I can have a Genesis week from the chaos of my life?

Almost every day I wonder…

What if this whole God / Jesus story is really true?

Because it truly takes faith to believe in Jesus when life goes upside down.

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

We are all on a roller coaster called Life, but some of us are not buckled up.  Are you?

Have you ever had the roller coaster nightmare? The one where the roller coaster starts clicking up the steep hill but your safety harness doesn’t work? It’s loose or totally broken and you know you are about to die – you know you are about to fall to your death on the sidewalk, or worse, on the tracks, or worse, on the ice cream cart and children below.

You hold onto the harness as best you can, linking your arm in and through the bars, muscles already shaking, knowing full-well that only your feeble hands might save you now. And your grip is not going to be enough…

 

I kinda feel like that in my life right now. Do you ever feel like this? Feel like life is just not safe and you’re about to be thrown?

(And, can I be honest? Can I let my complexity show?… )

My safety-harness-Jesus is broken. I no longer push up on the bars and feel the familiar, reassuring, locked push-back. I push up on my harness and it moves freely. Jesus is giving me too much space. I wish I could pull Him tighter.  I cannot hold on tight enough and I know I won’t make it through the ride. I am going to fall to an ugly, newspaper-headline-worthy, chaotic demise.

Jesus is no longer my safety harness; keeping me firmly in my seat until the ride comes to a full and complete stop.

 

And yet, this Psalm…

This psalm keeps telling me it’s going to be okay even if I lose my grip.

We are all going to be okay.

 

This Psalm somehow makes it sound like we are safe; that the gravitational pull of God is stronger than any of our fears or struggles or emergencies. He is stronger than the free falls. Stronger than the loops. Stronger than the hairpin turns.  He is stronger and He is Good.

From the chaos of life, we can pray for a Genesis week.

.i love this idea.

.a Genesis week from the chaos of life.

 

What is a Genesis week?

The CREATION OF NEW, GOOD THINGS.

The creation of good things from the chaos of our personal roller coasters.

 “God looked over everything he had made;

it was so good, so very good!”

From the chaos and void and emptiness of infinite nothing, God made everything. Out of love.

God is not about to let a technical malfunction or a scary free fall ruin a good thing. 
Good Creation began against all odds and will continue against all odds in our own lives.

 

In this Psalm, number 51, King David is working out the chaos of his life after committing a couple of the worst mistakes a person can make: adultery and a murderous cover-up. And yet, he has the audacity to pray that God make a Genesis week of his life? Put wind back in his sails?

This is what it looks like to be a person after God’s heart, I suppose.  The Bible describes King David as, “a man after God’s own heart.” In the face of disappointment in yourself, complete and total chaos, and sheer terror about what to do next… At the moments you are surely going to fall out of the ride and your own strength will not save you … we are invited to pray for New Good Things from a God who still cares.

I know I, for one, continue to focus on the harness not the hope.  The last few months have been full of freaking out about my unsafe harness. “The harness is not tight enough. The harness is broken. I don’t feel safe.”  I’m still dragging around feeling frustrated and sorry for myself that my house is a mess and I didn’t accomplish enough at work today – I’m not really asking God to make all kinds of beautiful creations from my chaos.  I’m demanding safety checks instead of enjoying the ride.

 

Faith. Hope. Love.

At the moment we fear we will be “thrown out with the trash” or thrown from the roller coaster … THIS is the exact moment we get to cling to God — or more correctly — God shows how He’s the one holding onto us.

Faith. Hope. Love.

If this whole Jesus story is actually true… if the Psalms are to be trusted… then there may really, truly be nothing to fear.  If your harness is broken; if Jesus does not feel close or click into place for you right now, you will still be okay.  Jesus is not always a locked safety harness (sometimes He can be, and when He is enjoy the HECK out of that).

Jesus is always a daring Love artist and the gravity of His Love pulls us closer to Him even as we ride the roller coaster – eyes full of tears and lungs burning.

Love,
Nicole

Prayer: Lord, I want to see the world from your perspective: always safe, always free, always hopeful. Thank you for the ride that is my life and thank you for being stronger than all the free falls and loops I’ll ever experience. You are my love artist. Please bring the full force of your gravity to my life so that you are the strongest pull I ever know. Amen.

*****

This post is part of a linkup at Everyday Awe going through the book of Psalms – one every week.
A bunch of us are reflecting on Psalm 51.

 

 

 

Posted in Free Flying Faith | 1 Comment »

Friendship Rugburns

Posted by Nicole on April 3, 2013

Through the big glass window, I watched my daughter in her first dance class. It’s like going to the aquarium, except the fish are more beautiful and they smile at you as they swim by.

On that very first day she made a friend. They danced and held hands and made each other laugh.  Tiny girls in tights and pink shoes and smiles.

Watching your kid make a friend is one of the best experiences in life.

We were excited to go back the next week and see her new friend. This second week, though, a new girl came. My daughter’s friend and the new girl hit it off.

So now I watch, through that giant window I wished would shrink to pinhole-size, as my daughter’s friend and this new girl clasp their four hands together, spin around and dance. They have a great time; truly enjoying each other. And I watched my daughter watch. From the side, she sees their joy and friendship bloom. I witness her move forward, asking so politely to join in the dance. Again. Again. Again, she asks, “Can I dance too?” Can I please hold hands and join in your circle?

The two other girls look at each other, because they are connecting and they don’t want to let anyone else in. They dance around some more and they see out of the corner of their eyes, my daughter still watching them… she’s too new to this friendship game. She doesn’t know how to hide her desire – to look busy or confident or just-fine-being-by-myself-thanks.

I hold my breath. Wishing. Praying. Not just praying that they would include her, but for her heart’s confidence and courage.

And eventually they did let her enter their circle. Eventually they decided it could be fun.

But as women, especially women, we have to be so aware. We value connection so deeply. We value being seen and known and making friends. We value it and we need it so much – that when we make a friend, we don’t see anything else. We just see that new friend and are so excited!  We forget that when you make a really beautiful, great connection with someone…

I can guarantee you, there is at least one if not five other women in the room whose gaping hole for connection is getting ripped open again. I can guarantee you that there are women in that room who just got punched in the gut seeing your connection with someone else.

Because we want deep friendship so much and it just points out again that we don’t have it. We don’t have it. And it hurts. Everytime.

This is just one of the reasons we suffer at each others’ hands.  This is one of the reasons so many women say they are not into women’s stuff – an event or group just for women. The push and pull of relational desire can be claustrophobic, for sure. And, it feels much more modern and cool to say we are just not into all that women’s stuff – men are simpler, etc etc… I’m beyond that.

Maybe you are… or maybe, like me, it just rubs you raw to be in a room of people and watch others connect. Avoiding those situations sounds better than enduring the burns.

The desire for connection will always be with us. It won’t serve me to pretend it’s not important.

*****

I continue to sit here, trying to find an answer… trying to find a simple, heart-felt, insightful way for us to all renew female friendships… but there is not one. Not in my head.

Because I will go to a meeting today and watch people connect. Later someone will watch me run into an old friend and receive a great hug and connection.

Jealousy will grip me and grip her. And we will each have to wrestle it to the floor – each of us, each time.

I guess all I can do is recognize my true enemies are not the other women, but the thoughts of bitterness, jealousy and fear.  I can have the courage to attack the scarier enemies of doubt and loneliness, and not the other human beings doing the best they can.

and I can speak words of courage to my daughters to try again and realize that we are all the same.

Try again to find hands to clasp and when you see someone on the outside, invite them in.

-Nicole

Prayer: God, you know my heart and the longings, desires, hopes I carry around each day. Would you please help me use those things to help others? I don’t want to be a black-hole-of-need all the time. I want to be the opposite – a light with the courage to give love and hope. God, be with my daughters as they navigate these very difficult friendship years. They are your daughters too and I trust them with you. Please take care of their hearts and show me how to speak words of courage to them as they make and lose and make friends. Thank you.

Posted in Honest Home | Tagged: , , , , , | 1 Comment »

The Infancy of our children

Posted by Nicole on March 14, 2013

This is something I wrote a while ago when I was neck-deep in caring for a newborn baby… it helped me and I pray it helps other new moms someday too. For my beloved sisters who have new babies…

My first baby on her first day.

My first baby on her first day.

 

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

“The infancy of our children. If we let it be a part of us — a part of our story, it can forever deepen our involvement in the bigger stories of life. This is a piece of my life deeply woven. Life. Delicate. Fragile. Alive.

I struggle for sleep and sanity.

Reminding myself over and over – It’s not failure, just challenge and struggle. Face it. Enjoy its opportunity for growth. Love endlessly. Give when it hurts. Teach as I learn. Kindness and respect in the midst of injustice.

[Soft hand on my mouth. Body and soul in my arms. Breath of my breath]

I get to build a soul. My work is invisible to her. This is my war and I fight for our lives.

Dear, self – Connect. Be in each moment. Press in. Don’t shy away from the discomfort.

Let the scars and wounds be a badge of honor
and not a regret.”

 ************

My second baby on her second day

My second baby on her second day

This is so hard, my friends – being “the mom.” So full of tensions and the sweet, torturous push and pull of being so lonely and yet never alone.  Fighting for survival – yours and theirs. No one will ever see the battles you win every day, but you will and God will and that sweet baby you hold will forever be changed because of your love. Hang in there. It will be worth it, I promise.

My two precious babes

My two precious babes

 

Posted in Honest Home | Tagged: , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Have you ever been asked a personal question?

Posted by Nicole on March 8, 2013

This was how my mother started the conversation.

“Do you know…”

“Do I know, what?”

“Do you know how women have orgasms?”

(AAaaaaaakward pause…avoiding eye-contact now…)

“Um, yes? …  Yes. I mean, yes. Mom, Seriously!” (laughing erupts)

 

Have you ever been asked a personal question?

Have you ever been asked a personal question?

How did your parents bring up the sex talk?

But, my mother didn’t stop at this first shocking question. She did not accept my protest that I already knew all I needed at 16 years old.  She knew me deeply despite the fact that it would be 11 more years before I truly understood the depths to which she knew me, when I had my own daughters to love.

(aside: isn’t it funny that as we grow up, we think our parents don’t know us? now that i am a mom myself, i could hardly think of anything i know more intimately than my daughters.)

See, my mother became a teenager in the 60’s and a single mother to two small girls in the 80’s. She is neither large in stature or personality.  Caring, loyal, sensitive, Indigo Girls-singing… this is my mom.

She gave me space to discover my way in the world. She usually held back advice or opinions. But, this conversation, this was just too important to leave to chance, I suppose. Too important to hope my sister and I learned it somewhere someday.

And so, one night at the dinner table, surrounded by flowered wallpaper in our little kitchen nook, my education in sex and/or “feminism” began with a loving, blunt question.

 “Do you know how women have orgasms?
There is a part of your vagina called the clitoris…”

“Wow, Yep. Yes there is… Thinking about it right now, Mom. Thanks.”

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

Within that awkward, sweet conversation, my mom enunciated one of the most important things I have ever learned about men and women… and it’s not what you think – no anatomy lessons today.

What I learned was:

The importance of giving and receiving.  The importance of knowing how to receive from someone else and understanding that both men and women are made to give and receive.

I hate generalities, but here’s one anyway: sometimes, as a woman, you have a serious inclination to give until you forget who you are and to give until you are bone dry…

But this is not the only way to be a good woman. This is not exactly what God meant when he made us “helper/helpmeets” or put that sentence in the Bible.

There’s something even more fundamental than your womanhood and that’s your humanity. My humanity. Humans are made to breathe – to give and take.  You were made to receive gifts not just give them, but sometimes we believe it is more holy to ignore our own needs.

God planned ahead for our confusion. He always does.

Here’s my theory:

So that we could not say to ourselves or each other that we women are only here to improve other people’s lives … God, well, He gave us a special reminder… a piece of ourselves – something designed with no other purpose but receiving pleasure.

Name it what you will, but there is really no other function for a clitoris than selfish fun.

You were specifically formed and created so you could receive joyous pleasure from someone whom you love – if you so choose.

BUT…

This is not just physical.

Sex is never just physical, anyway.

Sex is a metaphor and a workshop for so many of the important personal/relational issues of life. God didn’t design us – body or soul – just coincidentally. God is not a god of Coincidence but of Providence.

Our bodies represent and experience life on behalf of and in partnership with our souls. This is why sex is “soulish”.

So, when I say, “You were specifically formed and created so you could receive joyous pleasure from someone whom you love…” I DO NOT just mean through your clitoris. As fun as that can be.

The thing behind the thing is that God loves connecting stuff together. This is a sign of this – and this is really always about something deeper. Soulish.

The physical parts of me made only for receiving love are a sign and symbol of the invisible parts of me made only for receiving love.

Made for Love

Made for Love

I think this is what my mom really said that day.  (I mean, other than how women actually do have orgasms.)  What I have taken with me into my midlife is this lesson:

Do I know how to receive GOOD into my life? Because I am made to.

We were made to experience pleasure and joy being given to us as we give in return.  I know, this is an incredibly simplistic view at one tiny angle of sex and our bodies and all the stuff/history/rules we each carry around.

Male and Female relations…  can be so complicated and political and theological. It can get so heated and angry but, for my little family that night and still to this day, it comes down to the issue of giving and receiving within each human.

**********

Women knowing not just how to give but to receive in all areas of life and self:
care, love, hope, access, success, pleasure, pay raises, opportunities to speak or teach or write, promotions, respect and yes, orgasms.

This is what I pray for us. This is the thing behind that first question: Giving and Receiving. The GOOD in life is not just for others but for you too. And for me.

Do you know how women have orgasms?

There is a part of your vagina called the clitoris…

-Nicole

Prayer: God thank you for the way you’ve made me. Thank you for knitting my body and soul together in ways I am just beginning to understand. Please help me to believe you have good in store for me – actually, you have good just waiting for me to receive it even right here and right now.  Thank you for my mom’s courage and honesty and love. Thank you for Your love and design for life. Help me love and appreciate the way you designed me as well.  Amen.

Made for Love

Made for Love

_________________________________________________________________

If you are still reading… SIDE NOTE… as I wrote about this topic and repeatedly needed to write the word clitoris, I began craving replacement words. In case you need a nickname or a good laugh, here’s a couple good ones I found. You’re welcome.

CLITORIS

Love Button
Pleasure Center
Little woman in the pink canoe
Center Ring At The Three Ring Circus
Thermostat
Clitty Cat

 

 

 

 

Posted in Honest Home, Wonderful Wrestlings | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »

The Dresses in my Life

Posted by Nicole on March 8, 2013

I’m guessing I was seven.

A 7 year old girl. Shortest in my class with fine, brown hair and freckles.

Walking through the mall, my child-mind not caring at all what our actual reason was for being there, I saw it – I saw “her” really, not it.  In the window of a boutique children’s store, I saw the dress I still wish I could wear.

**********

I just knew it had to be mine. The true love was instant. I saw her from across the room and we were simply soul mates. There’s no other way to describe it.

The perfect visible manifestation of my invisible soul.

The physical depiction of my inner self.

I’d never been struck by an item of clothing before; Never known something was made for me, but this gorgeous thing was! oh, it was! Made. For. Me.

No description will do it justice.
How could I describe my Love to you in a way that doesn’t cheapen it?

Simply: imagine white, lace, a ballgown skirt, beads, shimmer. But none of that matters, because we had chemistry. So, make whatever is in your head 1000x better than what you first thought….
Oh, the delicious Specialness.

It was all I wanted from that moment on.  My school pictures would be epic!

I remember creating songs in its honor for days. Songs of love and courage. Spinning in circles, holding onto light poles and dancing my heart out in honor of the dress that would finally show the world the inner me – how beautiful and SPECIAL God made me.

What amazes me, looking back, is the esteem and self-love the dress awoke in me.

So, I worked up the bravery to ask my Dad to take us BACK to the intimidating mall and buy it for me. Making the ask felt like exposing my soul.

Sometimes, every once in a while, there is a material thing that really does connect with our souls. And telling someone how much it matters is like telling them You matter.

Sometimes, most of the time, other people don’t understand. And their misunderstanding shakes the foundations of your own convictions.

When my Dad, a shy and introverted man who struggled with public spaces, DID take me back to the mall, the combination of our awkwardness(es) could only lead one direction.

We walked into that boutique and immediately the weight of my ask grew heavier and heavier. My feet went cold. Looking up, I saw his face, the face of a father unable to understand or afford the thing his oldest daughter is asking for… and I knew. I knew it wasn’t my dress anymore.  By the time he turned over the pricetag, I was already saying Nevermind. Nevermind. It’s not worth it.

But, honestly, and not melodramatically, I decided I wasn’t worth it.

That day we bought a blue, plaid dress with an orange bow at the neck. We bought it from Sears.

**********

I was engaged to the love of my life at the age of twenty.  After 14 years of marriage and 18 years of making-out, our love is a challenging work but it is also a Great Love – the stuff of fairytales and Nicholas Sparks books.

Our wedding was incredibly simple: Morning light. Chicken lunch. Martinelli’s Toast. Silly afternoon dancing. Perfect.

except for my dress

Something still remained locked inside me even 14 years later.  Spending time or money on clothes or myself was no longer worth it.

Everything else was worth it: Our love was worth it, my family was worth it, our wedding was worth it but the part that was just for me – the dress …  I could not really engage in that process. I could not stand the tension within me. To spend time or money on something just for me, I wanted out of that decision fast.

So, with practicality and a desire to be unselfish with finances as my logical guides, I never dreamed for myself in this area. I quickly picked a cheap dress, hated it because it was actually ugly, and quickly picked another cheap dress that was pretty.

I felt pretty that day. It was a good day.

But I still long for that perfect dress. I still long to have a dress to wear that seems to complete me – even if just for a moment. Daydreaming for beauty.  It may sound shallow. That’s ok. Maybe it is. But it is real. You can still drown in shallow water.

**********

The issues always go deeper than the ones we discuss. So, I’ll end with this prayer…

Prayer: Jesus, my friend, I know you have more in store for me and available to me than I know how to absorb. I pray for the day that my very own skin and hair and smile are the things I fall in love with because you picked them out.  I pray, that like some John Mayer song, or the 7-year-old version of myself, I could sing about my skin – my face – with joy and courage and love.   And, Jesus, could I please someday have a dress that compliments this skin and face – the way a sunset lights up the beach? Thanks Jesus.

The perfect visible manifestation of my invisible soul.

(written as a linkup to the lovely Tanya at Thorns and Gold for a connection started at Concrete Words – yay, new friends!)

Posted in Free Flying Faith, Honest Home, Wonderful Wrestlings | 2 Comments »

Spiritual Midwives

Posted by Nicole on March 6, 2013

I’m new to this idea of putting my voice out into the air. So, I’ve been searching for people to connect with as I write. One person I have begun reading and enjoying is Sarah Bessey. So today, when she invited people to link up on the topic of spiritual midwives  — women who have helped me as God gave birth to some new part of me — I decided to give this a try and jump on in.  (She also spoke of Patron Saints as people we don’t know personally who have helped us or that we want to emulate – but I have lumped them together for today.)

________________________________________________________

My children were born at the hands of a midwife.

I too, have been born again at the hands of spiritual midwives.

The way my daughters were guided – with wisdom and help but never interference.

I have been guided but not controlled. Coaxed into a New Life.

Basically, women have come alongside me and helped me survive my spiritual births.

***********

I’ve had two women I LOVE give birth this month. Two new babies born into this version of life – Beautiful, strong, fragile, life-threatening and life-affirming birthing stories.

So, I have been thinking about the truth of birth a lot…
the awesome and the ugly.

How scary birthing is.
How no one can control it.
How birthing is messy.
How it is so messy.

How it pulls us back to the bones of living, exposing the ways we cover our nakedness in the day to day.

How it requires us to open up areas we absolutely did not and DO NOT want to see. (No thanks on the mirror on my wide-open vajewels.  I did NOT need to see THAT part of me at that angle, thanks!)

And no person’s birth story is the same. Absolutely no one can predict how or when a baby will be born.

We can get along just fine in life with very little help, taking care of the world and our selves, but at a birth you need help.

BTW – God bless the women who have orgasmic birthing stories. God bless you. The stories I most often hear are more warlike than dreamlike. Before I actually experienced a birth, I thought it would be one gorgeous day of finding my strength and beauty as a woman and mother.

“Giving birth is so natural and beautiful!! Giving birth rocks!”

I truly believed that would be The Way for me in childbirth.  Orgasmic in a sense … and, it wasn’t really.

I forget that God is the author of life. I forget that I can draw parallels between Him and His creation – his Words he spoke into being.

Daily, I forget  —
The way it is for physical birth is often the way it is for spiritual birth.

I still sometimes think that spiritual birth and growth is going to be this beautiful, natural experience – An experience where we move from one day to the next becoming closer to God and wiser as a person. Our skin will start to glow and we will walk around with people wondering how we got so beautiful and happy.

Think EAT, PRAY, LOVE… Isn’t that part of why we all bought that book? I too can have a beautiful awakening and rebirth into my true self and all I need to do is eat whatever I want then spend lots of freetime just breathing and sitting still and then fall in love in a foreign country.  AND DONE.

“Being a Christian is so natural and beautiful and happens in ways I can write so easily about!!  Being reborn rocks!”

 

But I am, honestly, in the middle of a spiritual birth and am reminded daily (whether I want to or not)

How scary even spiritual growth is.
How no one can control it.
How it is messy.
How it is so messy.

How it pulls us back to the bones of living, exposing the ways we cover our nakedness in the day to day.

How it requires us to open up areas we absolutely did not and DO NOT want to see. (No thanks on crying in staff meeting! Or at Starbucks when someone is says a harsh word.)

How no person’s spiritual birth story is the same. Absolutely no one can predict how or when each of us will find God in our lives or have a new epiphany about life.

How we can get along just fine in life with very little help, taking care of the world and our selves, but at a spiritual transition or birth you need help.

We need help in our spiritual births as well.

It’s funny, I would NEVER have considered giving birth to my babies alone with no help just because my body was made to do it and I believed it would be natural and beautiful.

I sought out a midwife to help and guide me. And she did! She checked my progress. She prepared me for birth. She was there the whole way. She cut the cord when it was around my baby’s neck.

I need to remember on days when it is difficult to grow in my life with God that my spiritual midwives are just as important.

My girl friends, my favorite author-friends (who will someday be my friends if all this Eternal life stuff is really real), my MOM, my sister, the writers all around me in the air blogging their spiritual stories. — all of them are my midwives at different times and in different ways.

They check on my progress. They encourage me. They give advice and then allow me the space to feel it all out. They also cut the cord if it’s starting to strangle me.

**********

If I am honest, though, I struggle with being honest.

I hate being vulnerable or open or messy. I do not let people come too close too often.  It’s only in extreme cases that I call on a midwife for intimate help.

So, my prayer is that I allow people into my mess and see what kind of birth story comes out of this year.

Prayer: I pray that I will continue to allow people into the intimate, messy, unpredictable parts of my life and that I can do the same for others. I pray for bravery, courage, and extreme humility and confidence at the same time.

Blessings on all of you, my future friends!

-Nicole

 

 

 

 

Posted in Free Flying Faith, Honest Home, Wonderful Wrestlings | Tagged: , , , , , | 6 Comments »

I was out deep and a big set of waves rolled in

Posted by Nicole on February 22, 2013

Faith. Joy. Optimism. Jesus being real and Him caring about me.

These are the things I have built a life on.

I built a life.

And I find myself in a season of fog, big waves, cold wind.

Where did that life go? Have you seen it?

Waiting for the water to bring back the Faith and Life.

Waiting for the water to bring back the Faith and Life.

I am a California girl. For most of my life, I have lived within three miles of the ocean. Had a hard day? Drive to the beach. Feel like life is too much? Drive to the beach. Bills, yells, disappointments, disapprovals pulling you down? Drive to the beach. … Park. Take off shoes. Feel sand rub your feet. Exfoliate the dead life away. Then touch the water and feel new living life seep in through your toes.

.RESET.

Feel better. Move on and Back to Faith + Joy + Optimism + Jesus being real

And, when I was younger, much younger… when I was still only 5′ tall but my insides were more elastic, I would swim away any tears. Underwater no one can tell if you are crying. Underwater, even if people surround you, they can barely hear you scream out your sadness. Tears can flow. Face can be red. Muscles can strain. And it all blends into a beautiful camouflage. Water pushing and moving, hugging back the way air just doesn’t care to.

Water pushing and moving, hugging back the way air just doesn’t care to.

All the sadness and frustration could leave my body and soul.  All flowed out of me and into the healing water.  I would feel empty and ready to be refilled by the Faith + Joy + Optimism + Jesus I’d come to trust would always come back. Hurray!

Recently, though… recently, I cannot find the healing water. I still live near the beach and pools in my California neighborhood. I touch the water both literally and figuratively in my prayers but nothing happens. My touchstone, my constant, my compass is no longer working. Up and down, north and south – they are meaningless.

I read other people’s beautiful blogs about how Jesus is finding them no matter how lost they feel – even in the trash. And intellectually, I trust it MUST still be real.  I’m just lost, God’s not, right? I believe Jesus believes in me even when I don’t believe in him – or however the saying goes.

In my bones, though, my bones tell the truth my intellect cannot.

In my bones, there is pain not trust.

 A burning.

Have you ever swam in the ocean? Swimming at the beach was a huge part of my childhood.  We swam in the ocean, played in the waves. In the infinite water up to my chest, swells came by and picked me up, lifting me off the cool sand under it all. One small body bouncing in anticipation, watching the swells come up from their source. The Pacific Ocean, my own beautiful mosh pit. Waves form and if you catch them just right, they lift you up – without any more than a tiptoe of energy from your own body. Lifted and weightless. Light and free.

But, the ocean is not just lightness and freedom and happy happy zen. It’s no joke. All that infinite water has a power and weight. The same power that lifts a little girl up to the sky, can suck her into a dark whirlpool. Vivid memories still sit at the front of my brain. A big set of waves could come in without warning. When you are out that far, the best thing to do when a BIG set of waves begins is to go under each one. Under the white wash. Under the sucking, thunderous breaks. But, once or twice, I didn’t get under in time.

Little head pops up to grasp a gasp of air but can’t get down deep again in time… and I’d get pulled into the swirling, spinning water.  The terror. The confusion. The fog. Especially in deep water, you cannot even find the sand.

It is a complete loss of direction – Up and down, north and south – they are meaningless.

I couldn’t find the sand or the air. I’d have taken either one. I’d pray, “Let me hit the bottom so I have some direction. Give me the sand so I can push up to the surface.”

Lungs burn hot; burning a hole in my chest so they can get to the surface, even if the rest of me never makes it.

I remember it so clearly.

 

This is how I feel now as I swim through life. The water I move and swim in everyday does not soothe me. I am not reset, home, camouflaged, soothed or free. Instead I burn.  I was out deep and a big set of waves rolled in.

I try actual, physical water on my burns but it has lost its touchstone connection to God.

I find myself giving up God for Lent without any choice in the matter. And it burns. It feels like drowning in the very place I found my life. Where I was once lifted up by a very present, big, loving  God  – without any more than a tiptoe of energy from my own soul – Now, I find pain and confusion in that same spot.

Death where there was life.

All I can do now is wait and swim. Jesus, who is real and cares about me – my intellect says, is still here. And my brain reminds my bones that this is how it works. Life to Death to Greater Life.

Resurrection.     

Life where there was death.

Everything must die so that new life can spring up. Even Faith. Maybe I can believe that even faith, like other things, must die to be reborn. My faith must doubt & die.

Faith like a mustard seed, right? Seeds die before they grow giant trees and climbing vines. Death is the beginning of a much bigger life for the seed. Maybe, just maybe, this is part of what Jesus meant…

Luke 17:6 “If you have faith like a grain of mustard seed…”

+

John 12:24–25, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

What if I put the two together? I have faith like a mustard seed and it’s time to let it fall into the earth and die so that it can bear much fruit.

A tiny seed falls to the ground. Once the seed coat breaks, the seed begins to grow roots. Inside the seed is new life: Roots. Height. Depth. Reach. More seeds. More Fruit.

Death is the beginning of new life for a seed. Maybe it will be for me too. Maybe in a year from now, maybe in three days, I will be reborn with a bigger and more expansive faith.

Until then (and believe me I do not take lightly saying “Until”) I will just keep swimming.

…For anyone struggling with faith today. An offering, poured out.

-Nicole

  Just Keep Swimming

 

Hey Mr Grump Gills
You know what you gotta do when life gets you down?
Just keep swimming
Just keep swimming
Just keep swimming swimming swimming
What do we do we swim, swim, swim

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Water, please (a parable of sorts)

Posted by Nicole on February 19, 2013

“A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it.”
– The Everlasting Man, GK Chesterton

**********

I can see it, the water, just across the room… and yet, I never get all the way there. And, I’m thirsty.

“Why don’t I ever get there?”-  I wonder.  I look down just to check again, as I often do. Yep, all good.  I’m running on my treadmill and it’s working just fine.  I don’t know how you do it in your town, but around here we all run on treadmills. It’s the absolute best way to get to the water. My treadmill is smooth, adjustable, modern.  Everyone uses one – some are better than others, though.  The one I have is good for my knees, I hear. And, I’m extra fierce on mine because there’s a racing stripe down the middle. I feel faster this way.

Lately, though, I’m really, EXTRA thirsty. The water is about 400 feet from me now, I think. I can’t totally tell. It’s definitely closer than last week. Definitely. This new treadmill is working better.

And, I’m working hard at my new program. I bought a new program that helps me improve my running so I can get to the water faster. But, it’s making me thirstier – ah, Catch 22…

I must work harder and harder to improve my skills, my stride, my incline capabilities… the more I strive, the more I want the water, the more I strive!

It’s competitive up in here!  So I keep workin’ it. Studying. Reading articles and books. Trying new products to make me a better runner.  But I really wish I’d make progress more quickly.

This is torture.

Honestly, can I tell you something? I think I’m going crazy because there’s a voice in my head telling me to get off the treadmill. HA! That’d be ridiculous.

We all know that’s crazy in THIS town. EVERYONE is on a treadmill. I’d be stupid to get off.  I’ll fall behind. AND I know someone will steal my spot, too, if I even move off for a moment. I’ve been running a long time. I’m sure I’ll get there soon. I must be closer. I’ve been working really hard on my stride. …

 

…. The voice is still here, though. I’ve been more tired lately for some reason and the voice is somehow louder when I feel more tired. It keeps telling me to trust it and step onto the ground. It says that the ground is actually MORE helpful for reaching the water than my treadmill is. But, I’m not sure I can believe it.

**********

It says that the ground is actually MORE helpful for reaching the water than my treadmill is.

But, I’m not sure I can believe it.

The voice of our Creator is always here offering us MORE. Telling us the ground is solid beneath our feet.

If we are honest, we all know there’s more available than what we choose to survive on. We all know that the “getting ahead” on our treadmills is an illusion. We were made my Someone that had better plans than this.

Our creator offers us a solid ground to walk on.

There’s more available to us than we have been told by the powers that want the powers to stay the powers. 

The folks on the treadmills at the front of the room want to stay in the front, so they’d like us to all stay on our treadmills. They can continue to tweet and share and sell their tips on how to move faster on the treadmill so we can move up to the front with them.  We read and study but never quite make it. Plus, the folks that make the treadmills can keep their power and money only if we stay on and keep a runnin’.

If I just started walking on the ground – trusted its trustworthyness is actually real – I could finally rest and breathe. I could stop buying, striving, and comparing myself to the other treadmill runners.  If the ground is actually real and good for walking on…

I would be free to drink. I could finally reach the water I need to live. This would be GOOD NEWS.

**********

“A dead thing can go with the stream, but only a living thing can go against it.”
– The Everlasting Man, GK Chesterton

You are ALIVE, my friend! You are alive. You are not dead. You do not have to go with the stream unless you want to. If you want to change things up, you can.

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Stop Hitting Yourself

Posted by Nicole on February 14, 2013

Stop throwing stones, please.

Stop throwing stones, please.

Walking around the world, feeling disappointed in yourself, is never fun.  It sucks, actually. And, I fully realize that many of you are just fine with your fine selves, but I have a sneaking suspicion that many of us are not…  Still not, even after looking through 100’s of motivational pins on Pinterest.

(it’s like dieting. i am not dieting when i read about diets. … and i am not actually feeling better about myself when I read how i should feel better about myself… you don’t lose weight by reading about losing weight…)

 

It feels impossible to hit the target in life – to reach that sweet moment of pure joyful success – when all you do is practice hitting yourself.

You learn to hit the target you aim at.

**********

“What’s wrong with me?”
“I wish I was different…”
“Why did I say that?”

**********

I know it’s the same for me as it is for some of you – The voices inside my head can be loud, demeaning, demanding.  All I can see is how I don’t measure up and I wish I did.  I’m guilty under the law.  So, I throw stones

………….. at myself.

Stoning: Execute (someone) by throwing stones at them.

We stone ourselves. Without a proper trial, we sentence ourselves to a painful execution.  Each nasty thought, a stone.  Each critique without care, a stone.

I pick up each rough, dirty stone – each rough, dirty thought – aim and throw.  Pick, aim, throw. Pick, aim, throw. Pick, aim, throw.

But, in the black-comedy turns of life, we are too close to ourselves to properly execute the guilty. I chuck a stone at my own head and it bounces off – painful but not deadly. Another. Another. Bruises form. Wounds appear and build on top of each other. It’s an incredibly slow, painful death.

Hundreds of stones thrown by me at me.

You learn to hit the target you aim at.

And, I’ve discovered that I spend entirely too much time aiming at myself.

(I say this to you as I say it to myself….)

It’s time to Stop it. Drop the stones. DROP IT.

What do you actually want to be good at?  Practice that!

Every time you catch yourself picking up a stone, drop it before you even aim to throw. Don’t spend your life practicing self-stoning. Stop hitting yourself.

You learn to hit the target you aim at. So… what target DO you want to hit?

Take long enough away from chucking stones to hear yourself answer the question. Give yourself time to answer, you jerk! 🙂 What do you want to aim at?

Start small. Focus and aim at getting out of bed and smiling at yourself in the mirror.  Maybe you just need to practice setting the rocks down before you are tempted to throw them.

Focus and aim at saying kind things to yourself and others.

Focus and aim at doing one thing each day without caring what you or anyone else thinks about how you did.

Or, if you’re ready, go BIG. Focus and aim at a life-long dream.

I can promise you will get better at what you practice, so

Practice what you want to be good at.

 

Everything else… DROP IT.

 

Thank you & you’re welcome,

Nicole

 

 

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What are you hungry for?

Posted by Nicole on February 1, 2013

Hi Friends!

 

So I started asking myself, “What do I want in life?”

The answer that came back immediately …

“Coffee, please.”

“Maybe also a chocolate chip cookie and a long nap too.”

 

On one hand, that’s lovely and simple.

On the other hand…  That’s all I want out of LIFE?  Really? That’s it?! That’s just kinda sad.

That’s what I define as an attainable wish.

 

Somewhere in me is a quiet, desperate whisper for more.

 

There’s got to be more to life than the wish for a few sensory comforts, right?  Something real, big, energizing.

The little whisper for real meaning and purpose is so, so quiet most of the time and the longing for comfort and pleasure is oh, so loud: I want it!  I want it!  I want chocolate!  I want a nap!  I want quiet and time to myself!  I want pizza and diet coke and cookies and warm donuts and a margarita (together or separate – I’ll take ’em how I can get ’em)!

If I am not careful to pay attention to my true desires, i will

live from numbing agent to numbing agent trying to escape the boredom, sadness, isolation or frustration  – and when I am not doing that I am using those same things numbers to celebrate or care for myself.

I’ve been asking myself those hard questions you have to ask, if you ever want to change. What do I actually really want?

“What’s the thing behind the thing?” – Rob Bell

I want to feel good. Do you know what feels good?  To eat and drink until you are so full you just need to sleep. aaahhh!  You can then curl up and take a nap or watch a wonderfully mindless TV show and forget everything but that heavy, sweet, full feeling.

To put it simply: I want to feel full.

We all want to feel full… fulfilled.  I do not like emptiness. I do not want to have a longing in my gut that continues to get my attention and demand I do something about it.  I have mistaken that longing for a solely physical hunger for far too long. It is a spiritual, physical and psychological need and I cannot separate them. Deep down, I actually want to find fulfillment for my whole self and I am settling for just a physical sedation.

Until I stop stuffing the pipes with doughy goodness, I will never make room for the other good stuff to pour into my life. Until I change and upgrade my goals from “avoiding hunger and finding sugary carbohydrates,” I will never have enough energy or drive to pursue bigger and better things.

I MUST DEFINE NEW GOALS based on my deeper desires.

What do I do when I have a free hour?  If my goal is comfort and food (my normal), I eat some sugar and take a nap. If my goal is health, I workout and dance and eat vegetables and fruit.  My goals define how I spend my time. So, until I change my goals, I will not change my habits and actions.  And until I actually want those goals more than I want the items I am addicted to and my old ways, I will never change.  I have to let the hunger remain so I can FEEL what I am really hungry for — not just healthy food but a more purposeful life.

I was made for more!

 

Aristotle said, “We are what we repeatedly do.”

I want to be more than sugar and sleep.  That’s what I repeatedly do.

I WANT to be vibrant, powerful, loving, healthy and really ALIVE.
If I really mean that, then it’s time to repeatedly DO vibrant, powerful, loving things.

There are deeply-set reasons I have learned to settle, though, as I am sure there are lots of reasons we ALL settle: I am overwhelmed with the demands of family, kids, work, school… “Adult Life”.  So, I dull the pain. I fill the void as quickly and easily as I can.

I give my tired soul a quick fix.

The quick fix doesn’t last, though, and I am quickly empty again. This can’t continue.

It’s time to start a life... to let the emptiness linger so I can feel what I really desire. Desire. Hunger.

What do I want out of life?  I have to shut the quick answers up so I can hear that slow, quiet whisper in my heart… what do I really want out of life? What am I here for? (Because I don’t think I am here JUST to eat cookies.)  If I can’t hear the whisper, I will never learn what my new goals need to be and I will never change my habits.

I have to end the cycle and feel the hunger.

I. Do. Not. Want. To.

But, I get the feeling I will never want to. Ever.  So I better be my own parent and just cut myself off. Give myself a time out. Go to my room. And think about why I did what I did. Why I do what I do.

On my timeout, I will wait for the whisper. I will let the waves of cravings move on past. And I will wait for the real desires to rise to the surface. They’ve been buried a long time. This may take a bit… and I pray I can hold out, because I am seriously getting my hopes up that it might actually be worth it. I think it’ll be worth it. I was made for more than I am living for.

What about you?

-Nicole

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