The Girl Who Waited

The Girl Who Waited
by the Girl

There once was a girl who waited. She waited to go to bed until she could hardly keep her eyes open. She waited to get up each morning until it was an absolute necessity. She would wait to leave the house until the very last minute.

The friends of this girl began to expect such behavior.  As much as she tried, the girl could not change her patterns. The girl was a procrastinator. 

One day, during a fit of waiting to avoid doing one thing or another, the girl came upon a sentence that hit her square in the gut.  It read, “…procrastination is just fear in fancy clothes.”[i]

The thing of it is, she had been a procrastinator all her life.  She waited to get her chores done. She waited to do her homework until the very last second. Even as an adult, her procrastination cost her precious time and energy.

She knew she was avoiding something important in all this waiting.  She was avoiding some of the deep heart-level issues that really just boiled down to fear. 

This thought used to surprise her.  She had never thought of herself as a fear-driven person.  She had always considered herself pretty level-headed; lacking much of the anxiety she had seen in the lives of others. 

She had been wrong.

Her fear and her worries had just been carefully hidden. She kept them tidy and covered in nice packaging with a pretty little bow.  It is possible she was afraid of her fears. She was afraid they would take over.  She was afraid others would see them.  This girl was accustomed to her fears being kept inside while she could put on the face of peace and calm that others had come to expect and need of her. 

In moments of honesty and insight the girl could see the truth.  She could see what she had been waiting to see. She began to see that her fears were secret lies that had been toxic to her very soul.

She had believed the lies that she wasn’t enough on her own.  She believed that she needed to keep her true self hidden from those around her.  She believed the lies that told her to fear failure.  Likewise, she admitted she was also afraid to really succeed. 

What was all of this about?  What could be done about it?

The girl knew she needed to seek something true. Something solid. Something timeless.  Some One who was beyond all time.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”[ii]

It was that simple.

She needed the Creator of her soul to meet her in deep and significant ways.  Her heart needed the Living Water of His truth to squelch the fiery darts of fear and half-truths.

She needed a different kind of waiting.

“I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.”[iii]

Waiting for the Lord was wholly different than the kind of waiting she often fell into.  Holy waiting is restful, peaceful, and full of expectation.  Fearful waiting is avoidance of something that seems much bigger than its reality.

The girl found that Holy waiting was an opening of her heart before the One who created its depths.  She soon found that by exposing her heart the fear began to be released as His loving presence filled each wound that had been cut by lies.

Holy waiting was what she longed for.  It was in those moments that she discovered more of her true self, free from fear. The one that He created in the beginning of time.

There once was a girl who waited.  And her waiting was good.

---

[i] By Amanda Williams, http://www.life-edited.com/2013/08/a-risk-worth-taking/

[ii] John 1:1 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=john%201&version=NIV

[iii] Psalm 130:5 http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=psalm%20130&version=NIV

The Wonder of It All

This is a photo of Ethan, our newest nephew.
He is one of 5 nieces and 3 nephews we absolutely adore.

I can't stop looking at this photo.
It stirs my heart in ways I can't quite express. Anyone with me?

Perhaps it's his sweet gaze. Or maybe the dancing lights behind his fuzzy baby hair.

I so easily forget how the Lord uses images to stir something deep within me.  This photo does just that.

Pause for a moment...
What do you see?

When I look at this photo, I see a boy looking adoringly at his father. His gaze speaks trust.
He knows his father.

His father deeply loves him.

As I begin to contemplate the coming of the Lenten season, this photo reminds me of an old hymn. Even if it's familiar, read it again slowly:

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He would give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross
My guilt upon His shoulders
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no powr's, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom

How beautiful.  How painful.  How simply grateful it makes me.

I have been blessed to be in the company of many great fathers. It has been an absolute joy to watch my brother become a father for the first time this year. He joins the ranks of both of my brothers-in-law who are also excellent fathers.  I love seeing these men love and adore their children.  They would do anything for them.

I am drawn again to this photo and the hymn.  If these earthly fathers love their children this much, how much more does our heavenly Father love us?  I can't help but think that Jesus loved and trusted his Father just as much as sweet Ethan's eyes reflect. Do I trust my Father with the same abandon?  Do I trust His son?

Lord, continue to stir the deep places of our hearts. Remind us of your love.  Thank you for your sacrifice.

Cashew Chicken and Veggies

This is a picture of  leftovers from last night-
still tastes just as good!

I haven't been one to post recipes on my blog yet, but this one is too good to pass up.  I found the original recipe from a pretty picture on Pinterest.

The original recipe used a crock pot, but I changed it up since I got started late. (I also skipped the step of coating the chicken in flour and browning.)  The red pepper flakes add a little kick to it but it's not too spicy.

Ingredients:
4 chicken breasts, cubed
1 cup cashews
Frozen or fresh stir fry veggies
Sauce:
2Tbsp canola oil
1/2 cup low sodium soy sauce
4 Tbsp rice wine vinegar
4 Tbsp ketchup
2 Tbsp brown sugar
1 Tbsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
(1 tsp grated ginger- optional)

Using a wok, cook chicken cubes in olive oil and some sprinkled black pepper. Add veggies and cook to your liking.  In a separate bowl, mix sauce ingredients and add to cooked chicken and veggies.  Add cashews.  Serve with steamed rice or noodles.  This recipe took about 30 minutes total prep and cooking time.

Let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Retreat: Encountering the Wall

Last spring I hosted my first Art & Soul Care retreat as a part of my thesis project at Denver Seminary.  I am honored and blessed to say that I am hosting another- this time in Greeley!  The two day retreat (two consecutive Saturdays) is centered around those who are facing a Wall in their spiritual life.

The retreat uses elements of spiritual formation and creative expression to work through this often difficult stage in the spiritual journey.  The Wall is often lonely, dark, and full of questions about ourselves, our faith, and our God.  The Wall often comes out of a time of transition or extreme busyness.

Because the Wall is an isolating experience, it is incredibly helpful to sit with a group of those who are either in a Wall or coming out of one. 

This retreat is for both artists and the creatively challenged!  

The retreat is being held on Saturdays November 3 & 10.  I have created a retreat flyer with more information for those who are interested.  Or, I can be emailed for more information as well. 

Sign up is limited, so please contact me soon!

Polishing Brass

My brass lamp: a work in progress

Heath and I are preparing to have some guests for the weekend- three of the smallest, cutest guests I know and their parents who I couldn't live without.  It has been our goal to have our home ready this weekend for everyone to see.  It has been a work in progress to be sure.

Heath had to go into work for a few hours this morning so I planned to get a few more things done. And yes, I'm procrastinating on vacuuming.

That's when I starting polishing.  I thought it would be a quick project.  I have polished silver before and thought this would be easy.  Does anyone else enjoy the same satisfaction of seeing the shiny surface return from underneath the dark tarnish? It's a chore I don't mind doing.

Until I decided to tackle a very old brass lamp that was a hand-me-down from my great aunt.  It's a beautiful lamp that was in great need of some attention.  It turns out the tarnish was much thicker than I thought.

Like our lives, we think we've made some progress and have become more pure, more sanctified.  While this is true indeed, there is always more tarnish to get rid of.  A wise friend recently reflected this week that the closer you get to Jesus, the more aware you become of your sin (tarnish).

It's not that he is trying to point out all our faults in order to bring shame.  Rather, he is working to sanctify us to be more like him.  To love like him. To see like him.  To hear like him.

As our tarnish is exposed we have two choices.  We can turn back and live with the ugly tarnish encasing our hearts.  Or we can turn to him.

He's a master with that polishing cloth and loves to see things made new.

Pulling Weeds

Sometimes the weeds are beautiful in their own right,
but need to be pulled none the less
(photo taken last summer in Westminster, CO)

At the beginning of the month we moved.  While we were moving I was experiencing what Heath called “mover’s remorse.”  It’s that feeling of being overloaded with boxes, the exhaustion of packing and lifting, and continually wondering if you made the right choice.  Thankfully, mover’s remorse is temporary.

Once we were officially done with the old and moved into the new, we knew we had made the right choice.  The home we are renting is beautiful. It has more room, more light, and generally feels like an upgrade in every way.  One of the many perks is the little yard we have in the front and in the back.  This perk also means more work, but is a price we are more than willing to pay.

This morning I went outside to pull some of the weeds I had been avoiding.  I started to think about the age old analogy of how we can also have weeds in our personal lives.  For me, one of my biggest weeds is procrastination.  The irony is thick in this case because the more I procrastinated on pulling the weeds in our front lawn, the more weeds I had to deal with today.

I realized that many of the weeds in both my life and in our yard seem to pop up in some of the healthiest areas of growth.  It’s like the weeds instinctively know that they will be well fed and nourished if they weasel their way in with the green grass. In some cases we are less likely to pull those weeds because the grass is still growing green and strong.  That is, until the weeds begin to multiply and take over. 

Much like procrastination, the more you ignore the weeds at first, the more you have to pull later.  The weeds have to be dealt with one way or another.  What are some of the weeds in your life?  I pray that you find the strength to face them.  When they are tough to pull or the roots run to deep, seek the Master Gardener.  He’s always willing to help.

And with that, I’m off to pull some more weeds.  And maybe unpack a few more boxes.  

Lessons from the Jury Box

Weld County Courthouse where I served in a jury  trial.
The victim from my case walked right down this street
the night she was attacked.

It’s not often that I choose to watch shows like Dateline.  Usually, the true stories that are portrayed have enough trauma and/or horror that I avoid them.  Emotionally, I feel that I need to save my interest and compassion toward such stories for meeting with my clients.  Tonight was an exception.  Heath and I decided to have a night in.  We had defrosted a homemade lasagna and settled in to watch some “light” television. 

Even with tons of channels we still couldn’t find anything to watch and eventually landed on the Dateline story about a local case.  Having remembered the story from Denver news last year, we continued to watch.  The story was difficult and touching.  The murder and sexual assault case showed that eventually justice had been served but not without cost.  As the father of one victim stated of the second victim and her family, “We are related in tragedy.”

I felt connected in a rather unusual way.  Earlier this summer I served on a week-long jury trial for a sexual assault case.  It was difficult.  It was educational.  It was emotional.  But most of all, it was just. 

I learned a lot from serving on jury duty.  First, I was reminded that we live in a country in which the alleged is truly innocent until proven guilty.  We were required to listen to all the evidence before making a decision.   

I realized how contrary this is to our current American culture.  Most of us make a decision and then search for facts to prove our position on any given topic.  Staying neutral to hear both sides was actually a very freeing experience.  I hope to take that skill into other prayerful decisions in my life.

I also learned that I am incredibly proud of our legal system.  It is by no means perfect, but it is absolutely full of individuals who care deeply for justice.  I left this trial experience feeling proud and thankful for the police officers, paramedics, detectives, forensic scientists, doctors, nurses, attorneys, judges and countless others who work with victims on a daily basis.  They do their jobs to help others and we have much to thank them for. 

From this experience I was also reminded that I am continually thankful for my job as a counselor.  I sat front and center in the jury box, directly across from the witness stand.  There were so many times I wanted to give encouraging nods to the visibly anxious nurse, the thoughtful police officer, and especially the tearful victim.  I wanted to offer words of affirmation for their truth and their bravery.  I wanted them to know their story mattered and that their courage counted, for those are the things I get to do in the counseling room. 

I learned that as a counselor I am blessed.  I am blessed to hear the tears and the trauma.  I am blessed to offer a listening ear and an encouraging word.  I am blessed to be trusted with the deep places of the human heart.  I am blessed with the ability to offer hope.

I am blessed because I know that there is Someone much bigger than me who cares more deeply for each victim.  He cares infinitely more for every tear and every tragedy.  He cares so much that He is the one who will ultimately bring justice. 

I walked away from a week in the jury box feeling deeply encouraged and deeply indebted.  My heart had been burdened, yet I know that the Lord has set it free.