I have sat at my desk tonight typing and deleting for about half an hour. I'm not really sure what I want to say.
Part of me is thinking heavy thoughts even though I'm quite happy. I will blame that on today's viewing of "Shutter Island."
Another part of me is thinking about a million little things: how pretty the dried flowers on top of the bookcase are; how much I want to visit Prague some day; camping; dear friends I want to see so bad I can almost imagine them beside me; my Grampa; how good it felt to wear my flip-flops today; kayaking; love in all its maddening complexity; boys; the awesome pizza I had for dinner; whether or not go to a salon and get a hair cut or do it myself; how incredibly long this sentence is.
I can't seem to quiet the thoughts, which reminds me of a book I once read. It was called "Long Wandering Prayer" and was written by David Hansen, a pastor in the town where I went to high school. His basic premise was that we should not be ashamed when our thoughts wander in prayer. God does not need exact, well-spoken speeches with three points. He's okay with meandering. Hansen even suggested physically wandering when praying. Not all the time, but sometimes. I was glad to hear that because I walk around praying aimlessly all the time.
So tonight, Lord, I thank you for awesome pizza, camping, flowers, flip-flops, and kayaking. I put all the uncertain business of boys and dating and marriage in your hands. I pray for those who have asked me to pray -- you know who they are. I admit that at this exact moment I'm thinking about grabbing a snack because I'm hungry. And I'm sure glad you like me just as I am.
2.26.2010
2.25.2010
Lent: Day Eight
I can't listen to enough music today. It's like my soul is thirsty, and music is the water it needs. I find myself getting absolutely lost in the lyrics and melodies, as if every song is saying -- in words and tones -- exactly what I want or need to say.
And so, reader, I am not going to write much on Lent: Day Eight. I am wandering through this music, visiting thoughts, pondering questions, considering risks, and, as always, dreaming dreams. I think I need to stay here a while, so I bid you a fond goodnight and promise I'll see you tomorrow.
And so, reader, I am not going to write much on Lent: Day Eight. I am wandering through this music, visiting thoughts, pondering questions, considering risks, and, as always, dreaming dreams. I think I need to stay here a while, so I bid you a fond goodnight and promise I'll see you tomorrow.
2.24.2010
Lent: Day Seven
There is a scene in the Song of Songs where the lover is gazing through the windows and peering through the lattice to see his beloved inside her house. After a while, he speaks, calling to his beloved to arise and come out and be with him. (Song of Songs 2:9-10).
I've always loved that picture of giddy love -- scurrying around the yard and peering through the lattice.
Tonight though, as I looked at the scene with God as lover and me as beloved, it took on a different feel. I still saw God as giddy in love, but I also saw him as urgent. And I saw me as...asleep, preoccupied, or indifferent. How could I not notice the one I love scurrying about outside my window, urgently calling me to come?
Having been in love before, I can tell you there were times I imagined -- dare I say daydreamed? -- the one I loved appearing on the porch, a complete, delightful surprise. The desire to see him would be so strong sometimes, I would actually go and look out the window.
From a human standpoint, I feel a bit silly confessing that. But, from a spiritual standpoint, I wish I desired to see God and be with Him as much as I did my boyfriend.
What a sweet, fun, vibrant relationship I could have with God if I was waiting for him to peer through the lattice so I could run out to meet him.
I've always loved that picture of giddy love -- scurrying around the yard and peering through the lattice.
Tonight though, as I looked at the scene with God as lover and me as beloved, it took on a different feel. I still saw God as giddy in love, but I also saw him as urgent. And I saw me as...asleep, preoccupied, or indifferent. How could I not notice the one I love scurrying about outside my window, urgently calling me to come?
Having been in love before, I can tell you there were times I imagined -- dare I say daydreamed? -- the one I loved appearing on the porch, a complete, delightful surprise. The desire to see him would be so strong sometimes, I would actually go and look out the window.
From a human standpoint, I feel a bit silly confessing that. But, from a spiritual standpoint, I wish I desired to see God and be with Him as much as I did my boyfriend.
What a sweet, fun, vibrant relationship I could have with God if I was waiting for him to peer through the lattice so I could run out to meet him.
2.23.2010
Lent: Day Six
When the next step is a puddle,
may I take it with a hop and a smile.
When the next step is a rose garden,
may I powder my nose on the dewy petals.
When the next step is a pile of manure,
may I tell a good joke and laugh.
When the next step is the moon,
may I admire the waning earth.
And when the next step is unknown,
may I take it on my knees.
may I take it with a hop and a smile.
When the next step is a rose garden,
may I powder my nose on the dewy petals.
When the next step is a pile of manure,
may I tell a good joke and laugh.
When the next step is the moon,
may I admire the waning earth.
And when the next step is unknown,
may I take it on my knees.
2.22.2010
Lent: Day Five
When I pray, when I enter into conversation with God, I feel like I am going home. This is good, as the idea of 'home' has been a bit elusive and short-term in my life lately.
2.21.2010
Lent: Day Four
Yesterday, day four of Lent, I went night skiing. I took a pretty gnarly fall, but overall it was an absolutely beautiful evening of boarding on the mountain. The snow was fast; the view was clear all the way to Glacier National Park; the company was superb.
I mention all this because I was so tired and sore last night I could barely write in my prayer journal. It hurt to hold the pen and make the needed strokes for legible letters. All I got down was a list of thanks to God: for bodies that move, for snow-covered hills, for stars seen from the chairlift, for Andy and Marianne.
This list got me thinking about the act of giving thanks.
First of all, it is one I need to do more often because I LOVE to do it. When I get to thinking about all I have to give thanks for, I become overwhelmed. It is an unending list. Truly unending.
Second, why do we neglect it in the first place? Why is it so easy to see the negative in life, to do the "poor me" shtick in so many varied ways? What would the world be like if we all walked through it with attitudes of thanksgiving?
Third, thanksgiving is a springboard. It leads to love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Also confession and forgiveness. And perspective -- which is something we all need.
Anyway, reader, that's all for now. Just know I'm thankful for you, whether I've known you for years or only through this World Wide Web.
P.S. I'm thinking maybe I should go snowboarding more often...
I mention all this because I was so tired and sore last night I could barely write in my prayer journal. It hurt to hold the pen and make the needed strokes for legible letters. All I got down was a list of thanks to God: for bodies that move, for snow-covered hills, for stars seen from the chairlift, for Andy and Marianne.
This list got me thinking about the act of giving thanks.
First of all, it is one I need to do more often because I LOVE to do it. When I get to thinking about all I have to give thanks for, I become overwhelmed. It is an unending list. Truly unending.
Second, why do we neglect it in the first place? Why is it so easy to see the negative in life, to do the "poor me" shtick in so many varied ways? What would the world be like if we all walked through it with attitudes of thanksgiving?
Third, thanksgiving is a springboard. It leads to love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Also confession and forgiveness. And perspective -- which is something we all need.
Anyway, reader, that's all for now. Just know I'm thankful for you, whether I've known you for years or only through this World Wide Web.
P.S. I'm thinking maybe I should go snowboarding more often...
2.20.2010
Lent: Day Three
Sometimes I get lost in words. They consume my day. I write. I talk. I think. I pray. All in words.
Tonight, though, I pulled into the driveway, shut off the radio, stepped outside, and was silent. I was struck dumb by the sight of the crescent moon reclining on the top of a pine tree. And by the stars sparkling so clear on this crisp Montana night I could almost see Orion grabbing his sword of three stars and charging into battle, his trusty dog by his side.
Sometimes there are no words needed in prayer.
Tonight, though, I pulled into the driveway, shut off the radio, stepped outside, and was silent. I was struck dumb by the sight of the crescent moon reclining on the top of a pine tree. And by the stars sparkling so clear on this crisp Montana night I could almost see Orion grabbing his sword of three stars and charging into battle, his trusty dog by his side.
Sometimes there are no words needed in prayer.
2.18.2010
Lent: Day Two
Rend Your Heart
Joel 2:12-17
12 "Even now," declares the LORD,"return to me with all your heart,
with fasting and weeping and mourning."
13 Rend your heart
and not your garments.
Return to the LORD your God,
for he is gracious and compassionate,
slow to anger and abounding in love,
and he relents from sending calamity.
14 Who knows? He may turn and have pity
and leave behind a blessing—
grain offerings and drink offerings
for the LORD your God.
15 Blow the trumpet in Zion,
declare a holy fast,
call a sacred assembly.
16 Gather the people,
consecrate the assembly;
bring together the elders,
gather the children,
those nursing at the breast.
Let the bridegroom leave his room
and the bride her chamber.
17 Let the priests, who minister before the LORD,
weep between the temple porch and the altar.
Let them say, "Spare your people, O LORD.
Do not make your inheritance an object of scorn,
a byword among the nations.
Why should they say among the peoples,
'Where is their God?' "
Ash Wednesday
I attended an Ash Wednesday service early yesterday morning. It was my first, and I was quite touched by the somber yet hopeful mood in the sanctuary. Also, it is so tangible and humbling to have someone spread ashes in the shape of a cross on your forehead and speak to you a truth you often forget: From dust you came and to dust you shall return.
It was also a new experience to walk around the rest of the day with what one man called "smudge" on my head, people's stares a constant reminder of the season of Lent I had promised to enter into. Then again, there was another man who, emerging from his car and seeing me and my friend Joanna, simply exclaimed, "Yay, Catholics!" Though I am not Catholic, I had to agree with his sentiment. Catholics, Lutherans, and other more liturgical types definitely know how to bring the beautiful and real to life in faith.
Last year, I gave up my car for Lent and found the experience beneficial. I used my times of walking as times of prayer and donated the gas money I saved to a charity. This year, however, I was not sure what to "give up" for Lent. Every idea I had seemed trite. So, I have decided not to give up but to add on.
Over the last several years I have let slide a spiritual discipline I once loved: prayer journaling. The next 40 days of Lent, then, I pledge to return to the practice. I look forward to what God will show me during this time. Likewise, I invite you, my friends and family, to share with me any prayer requests you may have. Leave them as a comment on my blog or facebook or send me an email. I would love to pray for you on a daily basis!
The Lord be with you.
It was also a new experience to walk around the rest of the day with what one man called "smudge" on my head, people's stares a constant reminder of the season of Lent I had promised to enter into. Then again, there was another man who, emerging from his car and seeing me and my friend Joanna, simply exclaimed, "Yay, Catholics!" Though I am not Catholic, I had to agree with his sentiment. Catholics, Lutherans, and other more liturgical types definitely know how to bring the beautiful and real to life in faith.
Last year, I gave up my car for Lent and found the experience beneficial. I used my times of walking as times of prayer and donated the gas money I saved to a charity. This year, however, I was not sure what to "give up" for Lent. Every idea I had seemed trite. So, I have decided not to give up but to add on.
Over the last several years I have let slide a spiritual discipline I once loved: prayer journaling. The next 40 days of Lent, then, I pledge to return to the practice. I look forward to what God will show me during this time. Likewise, I invite you, my friends and family, to share with me any prayer requests you may have. Leave them as a comment on my blog or facebook or send me an email. I would love to pray for you on a daily basis!
The Lord be with you.
2.11.2010
Blessing #1
Got a real, honest-to-goodness letter in the mail today. A beautiful, hand-written, 3-pager. From my Mom. Its words were medicine to my soul, and I just wanted to publicly thank her.
Mom, I love you so, so much and feel blessed beyond measure to have you in my life. God has clothed you with strength and dignity. May we both be able to laugh at the days to come -- always.
Blessing #1: You, Dad, Andy, Marianne. I guess technically that's four, but we'll run with it. You're all family. And I am so lucky.
Love you forever,
Hannah
Mom, I love you so, so much and feel blessed beyond measure to have you in my life. God has clothed you with strength and dignity. May we both be able to laugh at the days to come -- always.
Blessing #1: You, Dad, Andy, Marianne. I guess technically that's four, but we'll run with it. You're all family. And I am so lucky.
Love you forever,
Hannah
2.08.2010
What the hay?
Funny. I've been writing all morning and decided I needed a break. So, what do I do?
I write.
I look out the wall of windows (12 and a sliding glass door in all!), and let my mind wander. I wish I could say I think grand, deep, philosophical, life-changing thoughts, but I don't. Right now, I find myself wondering what Wind does all day. The horse, not the weather element.
I feed him in the morning. I hug him, pet him, and kiss his neck. Then I leave, and I have no idea what he does with the rest of his hug-free time. Does he think? Does he wish the sun would shine so his coat would dry off? Does he admire the snow sitting in pillows on the pine trees?
This is a common thread of thought for me. It just seems like the day would be so long without the pleasures of working, reading, drinking coffee, listening to music, baking, talking with a good friend, and countless others to fill the minutes. Then again, animals don't have to deal with cars breaking down, paying bills, and the crazy what ifs and if onlys that fill one's head when she's simply trying to lie down and sleep.
Who knows? Maybe Wind is out there in the pasture thinking about how long my day must be with so many distractions, neighing, "What the hay? Slow down, sister."
Just maybe. Either way, he is beautiful, his rust brown coat contrasted against the white snow. Maybe I'll go give him a hug just to break up his day. And take a real writing break in mine...
I write.
I look out the wall of windows (12 and a sliding glass door in all!), and let my mind wander. I wish I could say I think grand, deep, philosophical, life-changing thoughts, but I don't. Right now, I find myself wondering what Wind does all day. The horse, not the weather element.
I feed him in the morning. I hug him, pet him, and kiss his neck. Then I leave, and I have no idea what he does with the rest of his hug-free time. Does he think? Does he wish the sun would shine so his coat would dry off? Does he admire the snow sitting in pillows on the pine trees?
This is a common thread of thought for me. It just seems like the day would be so long without the pleasures of working, reading, drinking coffee, listening to music, baking, talking with a good friend, and countless others to fill the minutes. Then again, animals don't have to deal with cars breaking down, paying bills, and the crazy what ifs and if onlys that fill one's head when she's simply trying to lie down and sleep.
Who knows? Maybe Wind is out there in the pasture thinking about how long my day must be with so many distractions, neighing, "What the hay? Slow down, sister."
Just maybe. Either way, he is beautiful, his rust brown coat contrasted against the white snow. Maybe I'll go give him a hug just to break up his day. And take a real writing break in mine...
2.06.2010
This fear/trust issue
Perhaps it is because I am a writer that I have leanings toward paranoia. And anxiety. And seeing things that aren't really there.
Not all the time, mind you.
But sometimes.
For instance, I smacked my head the other day right in the temple area. It swelled up, and got all red and vein-y looking. For about 20 minutes of my life, I actually wondered if I would die that night. (It's not that weird...you hear stories of people smacking their temple and dying all the time.) I wasn't worried about my death; I am assured of an unbelievably awesome life after I cease to live in the flesh here on earth. But I was worried about the books I'd leave unfinished, and the people I wouldn't see again, and the sadness that would be felt by my family and friends.
The whole incident got me thinking a lot about fear, about how irrational it can be, and yet how real.
Example: I'll travel around solo in Bangkok without thinking twice about how many things could happen there. It's a city of 11 million. I'm a girl. I'm alone. I don't speak the language. I'm diabetic. Those things just don't bother me. But ask me to go into an unlit basement that has had confirmed spider sightings, and I'll get dizzy and short of breath. If it's really bad, my thumbs will go numb.
How crazy is that?
And that's just the beginning. I'm scared of mountain lions, losing my teeth, going blind, fire, roller coasters, doctors, surgery, car wrecks, mean dogs, and guns. Oh, and the dark. Bumps in the night can still scare me. I've been known to grab my baseball bat, my cell phone, and a flashlight and search the house on more than one occasion.
I say all this lightheartedly (and with some embarrassment) here, but I so wish I didn't have these fears. I wish some night I could charge into mountain lion country knowing I was going to meet a doctor, have surgery, lose my teeth, and ride a roller coaster through a fire with a mean dog while holding a loaded gun in my hand and not bat an eyelash.
But, I'm kind of a sissy. More than that, though, all these crazy fears show a lack of trust in God. That, I think, is the biggest problem with fear. I can trust God to walk with me through Bangkok but not through the basement? That's sad.
So, we're working on it. Me and God, that is. We're working on this fear/trust issue. As I'm living in a giant ranch house in Montana all alone right now, we've had plenty of learning moments. There's a big basement. And spiders. And lots of curtain-less windows that show me all the darkness outside at night.
The biggest thing I've learned so far is that God fills every single millimeter of night -- and day. He is in everything. He made that spider that made my knees feel like Jell-O. He gave men the knowledge to build basements and roller coasters -- and to be doctors who can fix the body.
That doesn't mean tragedies don't happen. They do. All the time. I'm not going to tackle that issue tonight. What I have been struck with is how many intricate details must take place in me and around me just to sustain life each minute...each second. If God can orchestrate that for more than 6 billion people -- not to mention animals -- I think He's worth my trust.
I can only hope this desire to trust God with things like spiders and teeth will permeate the bigger issues like trusting Him with marriage, housing, cars, and jobs.
In the meantime, please don't send me any Stephen King novels about murderers stalking authors at their remote cabins. I won't read them.
Not all the time, mind you.
But sometimes.
For instance, I smacked my head the other day right in the temple area. It swelled up, and got all red and vein-y looking. For about 20 minutes of my life, I actually wondered if I would die that night. (It's not that weird...you hear stories of people smacking their temple and dying all the time.) I wasn't worried about my death; I am assured of an unbelievably awesome life after I cease to live in the flesh here on earth. But I was worried about the books I'd leave unfinished, and the people I wouldn't see again, and the sadness that would be felt by my family and friends.
The whole incident got me thinking a lot about fear, about how irrational it can be, and yet how real.
Example: I'll travel around solo in Bangkok without thinking twice about how many things could happen there. It's a city of 11 million. I'm a girl. I'm alone. I don't speak the language. I'm diabetic. Those things just don't bother me. But ask me to go into an unlit basement that has had confirmed spider sightings, and I'll get dizzy and short of breath. If it's really bad, my thumbs will go numb.
How crazy is that?
And that's just the beginning. I'm scared of mountain lions, losing my teeth, going blind, fire, roller coasters, doctors, surgery, car wrecks, mean dogs, and guns. Oh, and the dark. Bumps in the night can still scare me. I've been known to grab my baseball bat, my cell phone, and a flashlight and search the house on more than one occasion.
I say all this lightheartedly (and with some embarrassment) here, but I so wish I didn't have these fears. I wish some night I could charge into mountain lion country knowing I was going to meet a doctor, have surgery, lose my teeth, and ride a roller coaster through a fire with a mean dog while holding a loaded gun in my hand and not bat an eyelash.
But, I'm kind of a sissy. More than that, though, all these crazy fears show a lack of trust in God. That, I think, is the biggest problem with fear. I can trust God to walk with me through Bangkok but not through the basement? That's sad.
So, we're working on it. Me and God, that is. We're working on this fear/trust issue. As I'm living in a giant ranch house in Montana all alone right now, we've had plenty of learning moments. There's a big basement. And spiders. And lots of curtain-less windows that show me all the darkness outside at night.
The biggest thing I've learned so far is that God fills every single millimeter of night -- and day. He is in everything. He made that spider that made my knees feel like Jell-O. He gave men the knowledge to build basements and roller coasters -- and to be doctors who can fix the body.
That doesn't mean tragedies don't happen. They do. All the time. I'm not going to tackle that issue tonight. What I have been struck with is how many intricate details must take place in me and around me just to sustain life each minute...each second. If God can orchestrate that for more than 6 billion people -- not to mention animals -- I think He's worth my trust.
I can only hope this desire to trust God with things like spiders and teeth will permeate the bigger issues like trusting Him with marriage, housing, cars, and jobs.
In the meantime, please don't send me any Stephen King novels about murderers stalking authors at their remote cabins. I won't read them.
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