looking back

Looking back on 2009  

I learned....that being right isn't usually the point.

I grew most in…walking with my husband.  Being so independent for so long, I am unlearning some of that and learning a new pace of walking beside another.

Another way I saw myself growing was...moving away from the comfortable role of "Beth the teacher" into the less familiar "Beth the woman".

One of my best adventures was…backpacking in the Colorado wild with Scott.

I saw/knew God was doing something when…Scott and I made the decision for me to only work part-time, and then my sister's family unexpectedly moved to Colorado.

A real gift from God was…those who cried with us and loved us well.

Something I really enjoyed doing more of was...going to the farmers' market every week this summer and snowshoeing this winter (Thanks Joanne!)

One of the happiest memories of 2009 I’d like to freeze in my mind…being present for the birth of our godson.  To see a little life emerge into the world seems like a "thin place" where the Giver of Life is so obviously present.
(N.T. Wright talks about the Celtic tradition what is called the "thin places". The "thin places" hold a vision of reality that has at least two layers: the visible world of our ordinary experience and the sacred world. In the thin places the boundary between those two dimensions becomes permeable. Sometimes it becomes so thin or lifts entirely that we can see and hear the sacred life to which we are called. Jesus was a thin place. He wasn't the thing itself but a place through which we could see that other reality, what he called the kingdom.)

I was really brave when…I overcame some of my fear of driving on the ice.


Something I’ve grieved about this year was…the unexpected departure of a gift we were given for a much shorter time than expected. 


I’m still trying to learn what God wants to teach me through this hard experience…waiting again.

The best word of advice or encouragement I can remember is… a phrase that has long seemed cliche and trite to me, but when I began to take the words "Let go and let God" to heart, I have found them quite true.

One thing I’m looking forward to in 2010 is…becoming more alive as the woman God created me to be and having new adventures with my husband.

adventing

i began the season with advent preparation night at a local church with the women in my family.  my mom and i enjoyed wreath-making, while my sisters and nieces created advent calendars and ornaments.  it was a unique and thoughtful ministry, and we all took home an advent booklet to help us continue preparing.

then scott and i ushered in advent with the help of a taize service in early december.  the same chapel where we were married was lit only by candlelight and blanketed in quiet.  it probably took half of the hour long service to quiet me as my mind was rushing this way and that, but the songs which are very short and sung repeatedly finally began to get a hold of me.  the first song was, 

"wait for the Lord, whose day is near.  wait for the Lord: keep watch, take heart.” 

more silence.
someone read luke 1:26-29. 
another song,
“our soul is waiting for God.  our hearts find joy in the Lord”
someone else read verses 30-34 about mary.   

this little bit of luke, highlighted from the rest of the story, made me so aware that the advent and christmas story centers around a pregnancy and a birth.  in april, i had anticipated our own baby’s birth coinciding with advent this december.  and yet in the painful absence of a baby i think the familiar story struck a chord.  the people of God had waited centuries for the Messiah.  so the waiting aspect of advent is something i can understand a bit more this year…especially the first candle of hope.  

  not that this is the first time i've felt that deep sense of longing.  not too many years ago when i lived in japan, i felt poignantly that God had brought me into a long season of waiting.  perhaps we are always waiting for something - for someone to come around, for love, for healing, for God to break through someone’s despair or pain or lostness, for children, for wholeness…

i know that i wouldn’t have chosen the waiting for myself, but i am so grateful for it.  not that waiting is this fun, glorious thing that i would gift to others if i could, but i have seen how God often works deeply through it.  the story of God's people seems to be characterized by waiting.  even the four candles of the advent wreath symbolize the four centuries between malachi (the last prophet in the old testament) and the birth of Christ.  but the people of God did not wait in vain; God kept His promises to them.

 so now the weeks of advent have passed, and i have lit the candle of
hope,
then love,
joy and peace. 

christmas is almost here!
children are anticipating christmas morning with so much hope and expectation.
and i too am waiting for the Lord,
for His answers to my prayers.
for His kingdom to come,
for His will to be done,

for Him to return as He promised.

“wait for the Lord, whose day is near.  wait for the Lord: keep watch, take heart.” 

so i wait and hope to wait like the children are waiting,
eagerly, hopeful, and expecting great things.

one year in

somehow enough months and seasons have gone by 

that have made up a year.

on november 15th, 2008 we said our vows on 

a beautiful, blue-skied fall day.

we stood in black and white at the front of the chapel, 

making promises bigger than ourselves 

and trusting God to help us keep them.  

one year ago, surrounded by faces that love us, 

we stepped into marriage.

one year later, snow and ice covered the streets as we made 

our way to church.  a little further down the road of life together, 

we are learning to navigate the icy days a little better.  

and then there are those glorious days, too.

those are pure bliss.

scott offered me the gift of the written word, 

and i needed no more.  it was exactly what i wanted. 

for dinner we decided to return to the mona lisa, 

a local fondue restaurant where we had gone on our honeymoon.  

we were both surprised when they seated us 

in the same exact table!

from the cheese appetizer, to grilled meats to our 

almond joy dessert...our meal literally melted in our mouths.  

growing up, i often worried about marrying the wrong person.

i felt terrified of being stuck and wanting out or of 

waking up one day utterly dissatisfied.

but somewhere deep down, 

i knew that marriage could be really good.

then scott walked into my life and loved me.

he loved me first, without demanding love in return.

and he simply loved me and called me beautiful.

it held a certain ring of the familiar.

his love echoed the One who 

loved us both first.

on the day that marked day that God took away my fears, 

i was finally able to really begin loving scott.  

i too began to risk my heart.

not too many days later he met me at the end of the aisle 

with a grin reaching from ear to ear.

one year in, i've discovered that marriage can be really good.

in fact, it is even better than i even imagined.

two new books

two books have come to my attention this year, 

both written by people in my own community.

the first is an intimate story of one woman's journey into deeper intimacy with the Lord, as his beloved daughter.  the author?  pamela marhad, the mother of one of my closest friends.  beautifully written in part allegory, part dialogue, the author honestly reveals her own feelings of inadequacy and God's seemingly unbelievable responses to her.  the message is certainly one i can relate to, and that i know many women are longing to hear.  the result is a new kind of devotional aptly titled,

He Calls me Beloved.

http://www.amazon.com/He-Calls-Beloved-Pamela-Marhad/dp/1414113145/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

the second is ready just in time for christmas.  written by a man whose blog i follow and illustrated by a woman in my church.  it is a retelling of the nativity story from luke 1 & 2 with some added fictional first- person perspectives, the familiar becoming wonderfully unfamiliar once again.  although i have yet to read it, the author writes and speaks like an old-time story-teller with the fresh perspective of one who walks with God.

the author?  john blase.  

the illustrator?  amanda jolman.  

i can't wait to read it myself.

Touching Wonder 

http://www.amazon.com/Touching-Wonder-Recapturing-Awe-Christmas/dp/1434764656/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256829022&sr=1-1

if you're interested, both books are available from amazon.com.

happy reading.

pixar's "Up"

just a few years ago i didn't even know what pixar was.

and to further my shame,

i placed all animated movies in a category,

or lesser class, all of their own.

needless to say, i never watched.

but then a few summers ago between conversations over

dinner and in the park, someone i've come to be rather fond of

expressed his delight in the quality and depth of story

found in certain animated films.

though skeptical, i listened and eventually

watched ratatouille.

guess what?

i actually liked it.

this time it was my suggestion -

"Up".

.

within the first few minutes beneath the big screen

a story of two lives

- carl & ellie-

had already been silently told.

it seemed complete all on its own,

a sweet adventure of joy mingled sorrow

that echoed so many of my own hopes and fears.

with tears still wet on my face

the silent ballad ended.

i wondered for a moment if the film was over.

i knew the movie had really just begun,

though i couldn't imagine the story improving.

surprisingly, it did.

the country of marriage

compliments of wendell berry

iii.

"sometimes our life reminds me

of a forest in which there is a graceful clearing
and in that opening a house,
an orchard and garden,
comfortable shades, and flowers
red and yellow in the sun, a pattern
made in the light for the light to return to.

 

The forest is mostly dark, its ways 

to be made anew day after day, the dark 

richer than the light and more blessed, 

provided we stay brave 

enough to keep on going in."

sometimes i just want to stay in the lovely house 
and garden in the light,
but the forest is equally part of the beauty of this country.

thank you scott, my love,
for having the courage to walk
into the forest depths with me.

tears come in the quiet

quiet, hush.

the magical stillness of a starry night,
the silent awe of sacred ceremony,
the look between lover and beloved
pushes down the words and invites wonder.

but no, not that quiet,
not that hush.

a break from the bustle that characterized
her days. forced rest. long hours of quiet.
she anticipated cries, but not hers.
arms intended to comfort now empty.

the hush of
quiet sadness.

days peppered with friends,
but quiet sadness served as the main course.
surrounded by quiet she heard things before
muffled if they sounded at all.

hush, listen.

the breeze brushes the sheers
as the wind brings them to life. footsteps
crunch the gravel under the mailbox,
and the post lid creaks before its filling.

hush, there's more
to hear.

pattering rain suddenly shifts
to pounding hail just for a moment.
distant thunder rolls and the
leaves shiver in anticipation.

listen.

her chatter belies the undercurrent
of pain. in the quiet when she
cannot speak, the lost creek
emerges fuller than she knew.

quiet yourself.

in this clearing, don't rush ahead.
all space needs not filling.
for tears come in the quiet,
and there is beauty here.

hush.

fleeting

my whole life i'd heard of cherry blossoms.
but to hear of and to experience sakura,
or perhaps anything, are worlds apart.

the japanese eagerly track the blooms
from the early deep colored petals of the southern islands
to the later pale approaching the mainland.

certain trees hold local fame and charm
elderly limbs supported with crutches
carry the weight of streaming pink flush.

parties and picnics, called hanami,
two words enmeshed - "flower" and "to see"
young and old sit under the showering petals.

from barren winter pink life seems to
suddenly appear on the naked trees
clothing them in pregnant fullness.

within a fortnight as quickly as they came,
the trees can hold this new life no more
and petals are shed to line the streets.

green shade leaves take their place
a new season is promised,
but the days remain chilly a bit longer.

like nothing else i know, sakura speaks
of all things fleeting and gone almost as
quickly as they come - spring, beauty, a life.

flourishing like a flower of the field
the wind blows over it and it is gone,
its place remembers it no more.

but from everlasting to
everlasting the LORD's love is
with those who fear Him.

being sick

being sick levels the playing field.

on monday i came down with a no-name virus. it doesn't carry quite the sympathy of strep or the flu, but it kept me on the couch for a week and my throat still hurts. each morning i woke early to write lesson plans only to discover that i was supremely exhausted, and had to rest again. and that was how each day went, teaching the accomplisher within to settle down and chill.

a reminder that said, "no, you can't do this on your own. you can't get everything done. and yes, let people help you." so went the week, with colleagues helping in numerous ways at work in my absence, and scott tenderly helping me at home.

its hard to be sick, to face a truth that is easier to ignore when we are well. that is that we are limited creatures greatly in need of help.

by thursday i had improved enough to read, so i embarked on lewis' the last battle. i never realized that it won the carnegie award, the highest honor for british children's literature. i hadn't read it since childhood myself, but quickly became caught up in lewis' story of the world's end and the fight of the remaining faithful to Who they knew to be true while so many others were tricked or deceived. revelation come alive.

though king tirian and his unicorn, jewel, weren't sick, they found themselves in great need and cried out to the God he'd never seen and yet believed for help.

and help came.

and hope came.

the maytrees and me

scott and i each took a book with us on our little mountain get-a-way over spring break.

his choice? redemption ark by alastair reynolds. it is classified as a "hard science fiction space opera novel". despite various conversations about the book as he is reading it, i still can't quite grasp this genre. is it really possible that those 5 adjectives really describe a type of novel? space opera. those two together raise the most questions.

needless to say, marriage continues to open my eyes to many wonders that i previously failed to know even existed. my husband enjoys his read, as he encounters various characters not just of the human persuasion with each new chapter. new words escape his lips for which i require definitions. i learn that a "conjoiner" is a human with technology giving them extraordinary possibilities. (my only term of reference? x-men.) the story also touches on political commentary and a few main characters that have become prominent and caught my husaband's interest. i see the science fiction, and yes the location is space, but where exactly is the opera?

my book of choice? the maytrees by annie dillard. what satisfaction to completely read a book within a week's time. what a delight to spend my time reading something written so well that i am caught up into not only the plot, but the beauty of words, attentiveness to the stars and sea, and the internal worlds of the characters. this story spanning a lifetime reads like poetry. the book initially caught my eye because it was about a marriage; it opens in post-WWII Cape Cod with a couple falling in love and soon marrying then living amidst their artistic friends.

so i bought it, not wanting to know anymore, and saved it for our trip. i happily lingered over the first chapters and halfway through found myself devastated. but hope came, as it often does. the poet-husband toby, referred to as maytree, continually pondered the question of what love is. beauty permeated his wife lou. both maytree and lou came into a more profound understanding of themselves alone and in relationship to each other with the passage of time, need and grace. perhaps a bit like love itself, the maytrees drew me in with its beauty, surprised me with its pain, and challenged me at its depth.

knowing i wanted to finish the book before we returned home, my own loving husband put his book down and read to me the last chapter of mine. and better still than any novel (best science fiction novel of the year or even pullitzer-prize novelist) is the the real-time poetic love my husband offers me.

lent bothers me

on wednesday we wore ashes
a black cross of dust
that i kept smudging
bothered my eyes.

standing and kneeling
in an unfamiliar place
being reminded of my death
bothered me too.

no morning edition
no all things considered
distracted prayer
the silence bothered me.

talk of loneliness
purpose still unknown
lacking usual comforts
lent bothers me.

bothersome discomfort
pain and patterns revealed
holes become apparent
Jesus come and fill me.

lent bothers me,
and
this lent is good.

two moons

"as the two moons raced across the sky...creating double shadows..."
the image lingers in my mind.

the setting? mars

the book? martian chronicles by ray bradbury

yes...it is science-fiction.

no...i never would have read it on my own, but it was in the bathroom, and i have trouble resisting pages of print.

now we are reading it together.

"scott- does mars really have two moons?" i ask, knowing that despite the fact that i am teaching astronomy and he isn't, my science minded husband will know the answer.

"yes," he replies and then adds, "phobos and....deimos, which mean fear and dread."

this is marriage...the marriage of two minds, two people. completely different histories and interests, but the two met and enjoyed the gifts the other brought to the table.

pride and prejudice meets martian chronicles. instead of two lovers set in the victorian england, i (the reader) find myself amidst various astronauts venturing into the planet mars where the martians are highly unimipressed and uniterested in the proud men from a much less sophisticated planet called earth.

the similarities are greater than i ever suspected.

so now the histories become entangled, the interests merge. a love of reading takes a new wife into her virgin voyage of sci-fi where she finds not only a story, but sees her husband in greater dimensions.

i'll keep reading.

sweet evening

sweet evening
day's work complete
a meal made and shared
dinner dishes drying
time is ripe for picking

hands pass across the face
the moments wait for none
companion for life
so near we share this sacred space
yet at uneven pace

she eyes closing dreams begin
he wide awake, mind at work
but as dark falls toward sleep he goes
then she rises, woken within
soberly missing time with him

january evening
full of promise and light
for a moment the pause seems long
dusk's sun lingering
then into dark soon vanishing