Lent: Day Thirty-Seven

Two wise, NPR fellows named Click and Clack have said for years, decades even, that it is better to spend $2,500 to fix a car than to give up on it, sell it, and buy a new one.

After much soul searching (and verifying of my bank account), I have come to believe they are right. And so, my beloved Sam is going in today for a procedure which will, the car gods willing, give him more energy and prolong his life.

It's major: a new engine. But I have a skilled mechanic to do the work, and I trust his steady hands. Me and Sam are only hoping that the third time is the charm. We've chosen a Japanese model, donated by a generous Subaru Forester in that far-away land of technological geniuses, and have been told Sam will be up and running in a week or two tops.

It gladdens my heart. I had grown to love Sam. In our short time together, we had already had many adventures, and I hated the thought of giving up on him.

In the meantime, we are working on a refund from an engine company which shall remain unnamed for now. Let's just say they sold us a lemon. And if we don't get the refund, I will reveal who to boycott.

The journey starts today. Sam only has to make it two more hours on his quickly failing ticker, and then he will be as good as new come mid-April showers. We'll be out kayaking together in no time...

Disclaimer: This post has nothing to do with Lent. I've just had requests to please bring back the car saga. I am not sure if the people make these requests because they care -- or because they get a good laugh out of my mechanical misery. I suppose either option is fine. I love 'em regardless ;).

Lent: Day Thirty-Six

What a full, busy day! In fact, it's been so full it has spilled over into tomorrow.

The highlight of my day was baking brownies. Yep, that simple. Amidst working an 8-hour day, grocery shopping, going to the bank, putting gas in my car, making a gift for a friend, talking on the phone with another friend, taking out the trash, and making dinner, I made brownies.

I love the process of baking. I love taking all these individual ingredients and mixing them together and coming out with something wonderfully edible. I love to eat, to enjoy the food God has given me. And today there was extra pleasure in it, perhaps because it gave me a moment to focus on the here and now instead of the, "Holy cow! What am I doing with my life?" future.

I also love that individual ingredients can come together and work together. What a picture of friendship, marriage, employment, parenting, and the church. What a picture of our very lives! All these pieces get mixed together and produce something worthwhile. I am glad for that!

Lent: Day Thirty-Five

I just watched a movie called "Happy Accidents." And though I realize I'm probably thinking way too much about it, I can't shake the questions it brings up in my mind.

Mainly, fate. Fate? Destiny? One's lot in life? Fortune? Predestination?

Call it what you like. All I want to know is...is it real? And how real? How pervasive? Is every detail of my life plotted? Or is there wiggle room? Accidents -- happy or otherwise?

I realize I will never be able to fully answer these questions. That is the draw of pondering them. Unlike some who must have answers, I like the process of questioning. I'm a journalist. The questions are perpetual with me. I own a T-shirt that says on one side, "Calvinism: This shirt chose me," and on the other side, "Arminianism: I chose this shirt."

I've always liked the idea of God as author of my life. It says in the Bible that every day is written before one of them comes to be (Psalm 139). But does that mean the whole story, the whole book, is already written? Or does it mean He is currently writing it, page by page, taking what happened yesterday and working with it to write the page for today...and maybe tomorrow...but certainly not to the end? As an author, I can say I don't know what my characters are going to do...not every detail anyway. They act spontaneously just like humans. And I'm definitely a fan of free will.

But still, how to you ignore Ephesians? Conversely, how do you ignore instances where God changed his mind in relation to an interaction with humans? Jonah? Ninevah?

And what about all those cute "how we met" stories that make it seem like there is a "the one" for every person? Do we believe because we should...or because we need to for our own comfort? Who doesn't want there to be someone out there for them, someone they will meet at just the right time and place? At the same time, that's a lot of pressure! I've met a lot of pretty swell fellas in my life and feel like any one of them could have been "the one" and yet none have become "the one." So I kind of think it's all baloney.

Alas, I do not want this blog to become the ramblings of a cynic. I do not want to be a cynic.

What I do want to do is trust. In these questions...and all the others I ask of my God.

I do not have to know the answers in order to trust that God is God, and God is good. Whether the books of our lives are written, edited and published, or whether they are being penned, erased, and penned again, I still like the idea of God as author. I trust His story. I trust Him. And I hope you can, too. 

Lent: Day Thirty-Four

Today has been a day for percolating. Literally and figuratively.

You see, I recently purchased a coffee percolator, and I have been enjoying the different flavor and quality it brings to my coffee. Supposedly percolating is the lowest form of brewing, but I like it because it brings back memories of my very first coffee encounters at my grandparent's house. I remember watching that coffee erupt into the little glass dome at the top of their coffee percolator like Old Faithful erupting in nearby Yellowstone. It was mesmerizing...and still is.

Percolating also reminds me of camp coffee. The very thought makes me feel invigorated. Oh, tents and stars and fires and oatmeal and steamy, percolated camp coffee!

As for the figurative...

I've always liked it when people describe the process of pondering a bunch of different thoughts as percolating them. It's like you have this filter canister of thoughts and you roll them around in your mind, letting them burble and boil and bubble and blow up, until they become something you can pour out and swallow.

I did that today. I took a day off from editing, a day away from words, and just enjoyed living. I wandered, I window shopped, I browsed books, I sketched, and I sat on the shore of Whitefish Lake for hours. All the while, I was percolating.

It was wonderful. And so needed. I percolated thoughts of my future; of being alone; of Alaska; of Mongolia; of coffee shops; of friends, and where they are and where they're going; of what it would look like to go into overseas missions; of guys, and why they're so frustrating; of fears; of my health; of the books I'm working on; of poetry; of God; of love.

I look at that list and realize it probably makes little sense. That's okay, though. We don't percolate to solve; we percolate to understand, to get things straight in OUR mind. I imagine, however, that many of those thoughts will be explored in this blog...so if you're curious, keep reading!

Anyway, after all that, what I'm really trying to say is this: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." That Ferris Bueller was a pretty smart guy...

Whitefish Lake with Big Mountain Ski Resort in the background.

I haven't picked up my sketchbook and charcoal in a while...but it sure felt good to do some doodling.

Lent: Day Thirty-Three

Mulligan! Mulligan! Mulligan!

I am sooooooooo sleepy there is no possible way I can string together an entire blog post. I'm about to fall asleep on my keyboard.

asj;fiehal giili;jieaae e      aei;h ;iaeeeeeeji;nvc,m.xcjio;eawfjn m.dmzn lknzds;lv lkszdn
S:LDK kaslkd a :lJL;WElsdk;  goodnight.

love ya all bunches!

Lent: Day Thirty-Two

There is always time for a little fun! And I believe fun is even more important when the anxieties of life are beginning to wear you down.

These photos of me, my brother, and my sister-in-law were taken several weeks ago on one of those really good days of just livin' and lovin' life. Not only did we ride the carousel, we ate awesome Greek food, walked along the river, browsed through a record store and a book store, and got ice cream.

Today, needing a distraction from a few woes in my life, I looked at these photos. They made me so happy I wanted to share them and say, "Go play!"

She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.
~Proverbs 31:25

Lent: Day Thirty-One

I've done a lot of baby holding lately. Now anyone who knows me will know that's strange. And anyone who knows me fairly well will know it's even stranger when I admit I've really, really enjoyed it. To top the strangeness off, I'm even quite good at it.

Honest.

I've learned how to pack a baby on one hip and eat with my free hand...while standing and swaying even. I've learned how to swaddle a fussing baby, cradle it, and rock it to sleep. I have tucked a baby's unruly arms and legs into a onesie. I've even strapped a baby into a car seat.

Granted, I've had the best babies in the world on which to practice (my brother and sister-in-law's twin 5-month-old nieces). But I'm still quite amazed at the change.

You see, when I was 8, 11, 14, 17, and all the ages in between in which a girl is supposed to be drawn to babies like a bear to a honeycomb, I wasn't. I avoided them at all costs. And when one was plopped into my unsuspecting arms, I held it like a man holds a woman's purse. And it usually started crying. Frankly, they terrified me.

Even at 20, 24, and 27, I held babies only out of obligation, though my best friend's kids began to change my heart.

But now, at 28, something has happened. I hold those little bundles and actually want to kiss them, and rock them, and soothe them, and care for them. Perhaps my proverbial clock is ticking after all.

Anyway, I'm not real sure where I'm headed with this post. I guess I just want to say that there is something breathtaking and alarming and beautiful about a little human being needing you.

It makes you want to be a better person, one worthy of the charge to protect that little life.

And I feel like I've become more aware of the preciousness of life through holding something whose lifespan I can mark on one calendar. It's quite remarkable, really. And what a picture of God holding each and every one of his children!

Lent: Day Thirty

I've been thinking about ritual today. And, conversely, about the unexpected and the out-of-the-ordinary.

I delight in both.

Ritual:

Getting ready for bed. I brush my teeth with a dry toothbrush for several minutes, floss, brush with toothpaste, wash my face, get in my pajamas, grab a book, crawl under the covers, and go, "Ahhhh." It is my time to contemplate today and prepare for tomorrow.

Making coffee. It, like getting ready for bed, is the time I gear up for whatever is ahead. I put a lot of thought into grinding the beans; scooping the coffee; measuring the water; waiting for it to boil; timing how long it sits before I press the French press down; breathing in the aroma; taking the first sip, eyes closed; opening my eyes and saying to the day, "Let's go." The ritual of it all wakes me up as much as the caffeine.

Church. I like the announcements, the singing, the time of offering, the prayers, the communion. Spiritual rituals, like others in our lives, help us contemplate and prepare. Spiritual rituals also help us remember. And I think that's very important.

There have been countless times during this period of Lent that I have returned to the Ash Wednesday service in my head. I don't necessarily remember the sermon, but I do remember the flickering candles; the feeling of the ashen cross being pressed on my forehead; the somber words reminding me from ashes I came and to ashes I will return; and one poignant, fleeting moment where I feel I fully grasped -- as much as these human minds are able -- what Christ's death actually means.

The unexpected:

I love surprises! I really do.

It makes my day -- my week -- when I bump into someone at a coffee shop and end up talking with them for an hour or more, in spite of the duties that need to be done that day.

And I can guarantee the fastest way to my heart is through an unexpected vase of flowers, an 'I was in the neighborhood' visit, a hand-scribbled note on a napkin. If a man breaks the usual, the routine in the relationship, I melt like butter, and I am HIS.   

Detours delight me! Big or small. If I was going 'here' and end up 'there' it makes a good story.

Anyway, I have so much more to say on all this, but I'm getting sleepy. So, I'll close with this: I think we need ritual. It keeps us grounded. Likewise, I think we need the unexpected. It shows us the places we would not think to go, the relationships we would not seek, the doors we would not open, and the depths of those we love to which we would not normally dive.

K. Brush teeth, floss, think, brush teeth again, wash face, grab book, bed, ahhh....

Lent: Day Twenty-Nine

I had an idea for this blog post...but I've completely forgotten it. All I can say right now is that I sometimes wish my reactions to big news were better. I need to work on the squealing, jumping bursts of giddy excitement for which my gender is so stereotyped. So instead of, "Wow. That's...huge. Cool. Ah, wow. Sheesh. What?...How?...Wow. I'm excited. Really. Ah, wow," somebody would get this:

Shriek. Squeal. Giggle.

"No way! That's amazing! I am so, so, so, so happy for you!"

Squeal. Jump, jump, jump. Squeal. Hahahahahahahahaha.

"OMG! Serious?"

String of intelligent questions peppered with encouragement. 

Squeal. Jump. Giggle.

I am such a stoic German sometimes.

Anyway, for any and all who have received a less-than-par display of excitement from me (you know who you are), just know I was jumping inside. Also know I probably hung up the phone and started crying, with joy or sadness or both, depending on the circumstance.

I am truly excited. And I am truly German. Just picture that scene in the movie "I.Q." where Albert Einstein rides on the back of a motorcycle and says, "Wahoo!" That's me.

Lent: Day Twenty-Eight

I don't know if anyone noticed or not, but this series of Lent posts was lacking something until a couple days ago: photos. The amazingness of my Tevas made me break this trend. That, and a change of heart.

You see, I was intentionally leaving photos out of my posts. The reason: I looked back at some old posts and realized how many stinkin' photos of myself I had posted. It all seemed rather self-centered. And since that is NOT what I want to be in life, I decided I needed a photo fast. Lent seemed like a good time to take one.

But I've changed my mind. Not about being self-centered, mind you, but about the lack of photos. I am living in some absolutely beautiful country right now, and I desperately want to share it with my friends and family. I want them to see God's creation the way I've been privileged to see it lately. I mean, isn't something even more beautiful when you can point at it and say to someone, "Look at that. Isn't God awesome?"

So, dear friends and family, I'm bringing the photos back. The fast was good, but in a much different way than I had anticipated. More than making me less self-centered, I think it showed me just how important people are in my life. Kind of like an "Into the Wild" realization without the deadly berries. And, you know, maybe that actually is what makes someone less self-centered. When we realize how precious people are to us, we focus on them and not ourselves.

Look at that! Isn't God awesome?

Lent: Day Twenty-Seven

I've had kind of a frustrating day. I mean, not terrible, but enough "stuff" to make me feel anxious and angry. Things taking waaaay longer than anticipated. Technology not working. Computer freezing up -- repeatedly. People not getting  back to me when they said they would. My car barely able to get up the hill as I wonder how much longer it will hold out. 

Yada, yada, yada. I don't mean to whine. I really don't. What I want to do is cry. And perhaps that is what I need to do. You see, I tend to set high standards for myself. And then I forget that I'm operating in a world where "stuff" happens and let my sense of failure bring me waaaaay down. But then, even when I'm down, I won't let myself cry. Cause...I have no idea why.

It's dumb. It really is. What am I trying to prove? That I'm tough as nails?

Well, earth to me, that's not true. I get frustrated. And disappointed. And sad. And, by golly, I'm a girl, so sometimes I feel all these things with little reason.

The point is: I need to feel them. Then let them go. That's what my mom always said. Feel it and let it go. No sense in getting all worked up about it. Let it go...then get over it! I love my momma!

So tonight, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to enjoy one of those snot-dripping, head-back, wet-neck, wet-shirt, taste-the-salt-on-my-lips, get-lost-in-the-music-until-this-day-disappears cries.

Afterward, I will accept my prize for longest list of adjectives that describe "cry." I will wash my face and eat cereal and dance around my kitchen. And I will ask God to help me understand my feminine soul and how it reflects His image and how I can use it for His glory.

Now, I just need my Kleenex...

Lent: Day Twenty-Six

Is it bad to write an ode to one's Tevas on a blog that is currently focused on Lent?

Probably.

But I'm going to do it anyway, because, frankly, my Tevas are amazing. I was reminded of this fact when I slipped them on today, pushing extra hard on the straps to make them stick. You see, after ten years of being worn eight months out of each year, Velcro begins to give out. I may have to lovingly tie them with string here soon.

Anyway, back to the point: my amazing Tevas.

When I moved to Montana, I purposely left them in Wyoming. (Don't tell them this; I don't want them to think me disloyal.) The idea was this: These things barely have a sole anymore. I may as well walk barefoot. I really, really need to get another pair. Maybe if I leave them and am unable to relish the wonderful feeling of that first toe-wiggling trod in the spring, I will buy a new pair and lay these to rest.

The idea failed.

Just last week, as the sun was beginning to shine and the air to warm, I began to need them. I tried, for about half a day, to tell myself I didn't. But, I caved. I called my mother and begged her to mail them -- pronto. Withdrawal can be an ugly thing.

They arrived yesterday, lovingly tucked into a cushioned envelope. (My Mom is the best!) It made me so happy. It was like reuniting with a very old, very dear friend.

For, you see, these Tevas have walked with me in many a place. England. Scotland. Canada. Singapore. Indonesia. Thailand. Laos. El Salvador. And all over America.

They have been with me when I'm at my strongest, and when I am at my weakest. We have hiked mountains together, and forded rivers, and biked all over town and city. They watched me fall in love. And break up. And I have tripped over them more times than I care to admit while trying to do something as difficult as walk next to a guy I like. Even then, all those times, they did not judge. That would be against their very nature.

And so, dear Tevas, I have this to say:

Thou art faithful and fair. Thou art loyal and loving. And though thy sole doth wear away from a decade of exuberant use, I know thy soul shall remain as long as I believe in you. I am glad to have you back. Now, what adventures should we have today? 

Lent: Day Twenty-Five

When I think of how many people I've met in my lifetime -- my small-time, small-town lifetime -- I am astounded. It's a lot.

When I think that sometimes two people out of those billions meet, and befriend, and like, and love, it is a miracle.

When I think that God created each and every person to be unique, to have their own purpose in His world, I cannot even comprehend it.

And when I think that God loves each and every person, I can barely speak. Every. Single. One. With more love than I will ever be able to possess in this earthly shell.

Be still and know that He is God. 

Lent: Day Twenty-Four

There is now less than a month until tax day. And whether you filed in January or will be rushing to the post office to make that infamous postmark date, this is a time of year when money is definitely on America's mind.

It's been on mine lately. Which is weird because I rarely, rarely, rarely worry about money. Then again, I've never really committed to an unknown period of earning no income. I guess it's official: I am a writer!

Anyway, I was going through my old bank statements today, gearing up to file my own taxes, when I came across something that made me feel absolutely silly for worrying even one moment about my finances. It made me feel rather giddy, actually.

The miracle: a bank statement I kept from college. The balance: $40.

Forty dollars. And yet I somehow managed to graduate footloose and debt free. I had food on the shelves in my rental. I had coffee baristas who let me pay in pennies...even when the pennies didn't quite add up to what they should have. I had a car. A computer. A bike. Friends. Family. Shoes. Sunshine. Snow. Grass. Mountains.

Love. God. Life.

I was so rich! And I still am.

I am doing what I LOVE. I have people to LOVE. I am LOVED. More than I deserve. Thank you, Father God. Thank you! Thank you!! Thank you!!!

Two things I ask of you, O Lord; do not refuse me before I die:
Keep falsehood and lies far from me; 
give me neither poverty nor riches,
but give me only my daily bread.
~Proverbs 30:7-8

Lent: Day Twenty-Three

I've got a cold today. And so I share a Donald Miller snippet that I meant to share in my last post. It's some good food for thought. From "Searching for God Knows What," page 127:

Perhaps the most comforting characteristic of Christ is that He liked people. Were somebody to ask me to begin a religious system, I would sit down and write a book the way Muhammad and Joseph Smith both did. This would seem the most logical way to communicate new ideas. Writing in scrolls, however, was not something that interested Jesus. He never sat down and wrote a mission statement. Instead, He accumulated friends and allowed them to write about Him, talk about Him, testify about Him. Each of the Gospels reveals a Christ who ate with people, attended parties, drank with people, prayed with people, traveled with people, and worked with people. I can't imagine He would do this unless He actually liked people and cared about them. Jesus built our faith system entirely on relationships, forgoing marketing efforts and spin.

Lent: Day Twenty-Two

Questions do not equal heresy

I recently finished a book by Donald Miller called "Searching for God Knows What." Though I liked his memoir "Blue Like Jazz" a bit more, I still find myself thinking about what he had to say.

Miller has this amazing ability to step outside of traditional Christian belief and look at his religion from a different angle. He asks questions. He doesn't shy away from messy issues. He pushes the limits much further than many others would be willing to go.

And yet he always comes back from his ventures loving God -- and man -- more than he did before. I see this as a good thing.

It shows me that we can, in fact, ask questions of our faith, of our God, of our fellow believers, and of ourselves. Questions. Do Not. Destroy.

It shows me that while keeping yourself firmly rooted in the foundational beliefs that Jesus died to save you from your sins, and that you should love Him with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, it is okay to say you don't know it all. It is okay to consider open theology, and to read books the greater Christian community rails against (The Shack, anyone? Velvet Elvis? The Da Vinci Code? Harry Potter?).

What I can't stand is when the Christian community becomes so entrenched in its theology, when it holds so tightly to what it is convinced is the only way to think, that it can't see past its nose.

We, as Christians, NEED to see past our noses. We need to see past our noses, first of all, to love each other as fellow believers. So what if your Christian brother read a certain book. So what if that girl is asking too many questions. You do not get in their face -- or behind their back, or on the pulpit -- and call them a heretic. If we cannot love each other, what do we have to offer those in the world who do not believe as we do, and who need us to get over ourselves and enter into their messy lives?

Nothing. Without love there is nothing. It says so in the Bible (I Corinthians 13).

And...I better stop. This is a post I didn't intend on writing. But, it came out. It came out very fast and furious, and I suppose it's been simmering inside for quite some time now. And yes, it's personal. I'm still working on forgiving (often) and loving (because God loves me, who can be quite unlovable).

I am not exempt from anything I've written. It is human nature, I think, to hold tightly to our beliefs. Sometimes, when relationships crumble and people fail you, that is the only thing you can hold on to. But I think we must remember we are not clinging to an idea; we are clinging to the God who created the universe, who is, and was, and is to come.  

Lent: Day Twenty-One

Woke up earlier than I'd planned today. And though I probably should have gotten up and started working, I grabbed a book and read instead. It was so cozy beneath my covers. There is something quaint about having a cold nose and warm toes.

Went to the bakery today. Ordered a giant caramel roll and relished the sight of a gaggle of people all bending over to peer at the yummy goodies in the glass case.

Enjoyed my coffee.

Worked hard.

Let the sun warm my face.

Ah, the simple pleasures...

Lent: Day Twenty

Half way. Twenty days into the forty day period of Lent. Has it changed me? Am I more aware of God's sacrifice of his son to bring his creation back into relationship with him? Am I more appreciative?

I hope so. And I think so.

It had long been my desire to get back into journaling, and I saw this year's season of Lent as my catalyst to do just that. It's been really nice. I love the written word! It is the way I communicate best, and the way I process life. It brings me satisfaction.

But Lent isn't really about me, is it?

So, has my desire to journal brought me into closer relationship with God? Has it shifted my focus away from myself and into the lives of those around me?

Again, I hope so, and I think so. And I pray that my writing -- be it in a personal journal, or a daily newspaper, or a novel -- would always, always, always glorify the ONE who placed these words inside of me.

Lent: Day Nineteen

My Grampa was a photographer. An honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned lover of pictures. He shot with film and had a dark room where he developed his black-and-white snapshots of kids, grand kids, and all the natural beauty surrounding his home near Yellowstone National Park.

Today, as the big Montana sky morphed from gray and snowy to dollops of white fluff against a background of blue, I couldn't help but think of him. His shutter finger would have been twitching as the scenery and lighting outside changed almost by the second, becoming more and more beautiful as the day drew into night.

I think he would have shot two, three, or maybe even four rolls of film today. That's a lot for all you digital camera folks out there. He would have captured the miniature ice cycles hanging from the boughs of pine trees. And the snow piled on the picnic table. And the way the snowy mountains looked like a zebra -- shade, sun, shade, sun, shade.

I did.

I shot "rolls" of film today, trying desperately to capture this beauty that made me feel like I would burst with wonder.

I didn't capture it; not really, anyway. But I tried, as my Grampa always tried, and I hope that pleases God. For if I desire to be close to His amazing works, if I try to imitate them and capture the feeling of pleasure they give me, I worship Him. 

Lent: Day Eighteen

Question: Is it better to miss a post or to post something trivial/shallow/ridiculous/alloftheabove? (You like that e.e. cummings move?)

My brain is not really cooperating right now. I wore it out editing the novel I'm currently working on. Yep, just ended a sentence with a preposition. Wrap it up quick!

So, for those who have made it this far in this alloftheabove post, I have this to say:

I think I need to go somewhere where it's windy to remind myself I can handle the wind because, really, this no wind thing is pretty sweet. I am thankful for that today. I am thankful for snow that stays on trees and still nights where my breath hangs in the air like a mini cloud just below eye level.

Lent: Day Seventeen

I went for a ride on Wind the Horse yesterday. It was a short jaunt, but we did encounter something new: water. I mean, it was new for me; I am still a very green horsewoman.

First of all, I think all those Westerns have it wrong. Horses do not go racing happily into any sized puddle, lake or river. Maybe once you get 'em in, they rare gracefully and toss sparkling drops of water into the air around you, but they are downright skiddish on the water's edge. At least my horse was.

Here's what went down: I was walking Wind alongside the road, and we came upon a good-sized puddle. My thought was, "Cool, I get to ride through water." Wind's thoughts were, "What is that? How deep is it? And where are you leading me you crazy woman?"

He stopped dead in his tracks. And then he began pawing the water. The pawing turned into stomping, and the stomping into very tentative steps. One, two, stop. Paw, stomp, walk. One, two, stop. Paw, whinny, bolt.

"Whoa!" Pull the reins. Too hard. Going in reverse. Heart beating fast...

You get the point. We did eventually make it through with some coaching from my knowledgeable sister-in-law. She said horses can't see water very well, so they paw it to test its depth. They just want to make sure they aren't getting in too deep.

And you know what? That makes sense. Humans do that too. Any time we come to a new job opportunity, or relationship, or adventure, we stop and test the water. We ask questions, we seek council, we take a couple steps and stop to re-evaluate. And I suppose there comes a time when we either back up and go around or gallop into the deep, raring gracefully and throwing drops of sparkling water into the air.

I suppose either option is fine. I just hope, as I personally come upon some unknown steps in my life, that I run right into that scary water. I pray the same for many of my friends who I know are standing on the water's edge, trying to decide what to do on this journey called life.

Lent: Day Sixteen

Today I reconnected with an old childhood friend. A clueless comment from me brought forth from her a story of immense tragedy. Unfortunately, the story -- and the tragedy -- were hers. I could hardly believe she went through the tremendous losses she described. It made me so sad, and, really, left me quite speechless.

Tonight, as I think about her and pray prayers full of false starts and I-don't-understands, I am reminded of a book I read in college. Called "Man's Search for Meaning," it was written by Viktor Frankl and describes his time in four Nazi death camps, including Auschwitz. While incarcerated, his parents, brother, and pregnant wife all died. He witnessed and experienced immense suffering, and came out of it to write a book that has inspired people around the world to live with purpose.

His main premise is that suffering cannot be avoided, but we can choose how to cope with it, find meaning in it, and move forward from it a better man or woman. I see my friend doing this already and pray she will be able to do so more and more.

A couple of my favorite quotes from the book:

"We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."

"He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how." (Quoting Nietzsche)

Lent: Day Fifteen

If you'll allow me a moment of pride, I just want to say I built the best fire I've built in my life last night. It ignited fast and furious, without all the usual huffing and puffing on my end. Wood, kindling, and paper placement were perfect. It burned hot. And when I closed the damper, the glass front of the wood stove emitted that orangy-red glow that means: You're going to sleep warm and cozy tonight.

I cannot tell you how happy this all made me. Giddy as a school girl, I was.

My first thought after reveling in my glorious creation was actually the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace. It's an amazing story. You should check it out in Daniel 3:1-30.

My second thought was one of my favorite quotes, which I leave you with today:

The day will come when, after harnessing the ether, the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.
--Pierre Tielhard

Lent: Day Fourteen

It is one of my good friend's birthdays today. (Happy Birthday, Sar!) She is half a year older than me, and she and her husband have their first kid on the way. I believe she's hoping for an early May delivery so she can be out and running the Bolder Boulder on Memorial Day. Yeah, she's crazy =).

And that's one of the things I LOVE about her. She is the friend who always pushes me further than I would normally go. Some of my favorite adventures in life have been with her.

Anyway, I was thinking about her today -- because it's her birthday and because of one of her recent Facebook statuses. It was something along the line of, "Why am I sewing baby clothes, and where in the world has this little Suzy Homemaker come from?!"

I loved it. It made me ponder change. Because of the life being formed inside her, she and her husband have a lot of change coming. But that doesn't mean it will change the fundamental way she attacks life. Sar is going to be a super mom who will be trail running with her super stroller as soon as she can, and probably before she should. That kid is going to see the world with one set of awesome parents piloting the adventure, especially if one of the pilots is sewing baby clothes along the way.

That is one beautiful thing about having kids, I think. It shows us that even when we undergo immense change, it is possible to keep in stride with the fundamental core of who God made us. That is good for me to remember as I look ahead to an uncertain future full of certain change.

I've often said I feel most like myself with a pack on my back. So whether and when I stay or go, may I always explore each opportunity with open heart and open eyes.

Lent: Day Thirteen

When I was a little girl, my Mom sung me the same song almost every night. She would sit on the edge of my bed and rub my back or push my hair behind my ears and sing softly. When she finished, she would lean over and kiss my forehead. That song and that kiss became the signs that I could sleep in peace, knowing I was safe and loved.

As I grew older, the ritual was shortened to just the kiss on the forehead. Even now, at the age of 28, when I go home I can expect that kiss -- as well as one from my Dad. And still those pecks mean: Goodnight, little girl. You are loved. 

Tonight I was listening to the CD "Holy, Holy, Holy" by Crystal Lewis, and "my" song came on. I became lost in memories of home and in the comforting words of the song. And so, reader, I share it with you. May it encourage you as much as it has always encouraged me.


Great is Thy Faithfulness
Thomas Chisholm

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my father!
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not:
As thou hast been Thou forever wilt be. 

Chorus:

Great is Thy faithfulness, Great is Thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see:
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!

Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth.
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Lent: Day Twelve

Fell asleep last night looking at the waning moon out my bedroom window.

Woke up this morning to a brilliant sunrise.

Stood on the porch this evening watching the snowy mountains glow orange then fade to pink as they reflected the setting sun.

I feel so blessed to be living a life this close to creation. May I never take it for granted.

Lent: Day Eleven

The field I walk through to get to the barn is no longer a field. It is a land o' lakes, each puddle of water separated by mounds of melting snow and/or piles of horse dung.

As an adult, I point to the mess and say, "THAT is why I don't like spring."

But today I remembered that when I was young, puddles were meant for jumping. And so, I put on my snow boots, rolled my jeans to my knees, and hopped on through. As drops of water -- and, shall we say, nutrient-rich mud -- splashed around me, I couldn't contain the laughter.

Had there been another human soul around, I think a mud fight may have occurred. But since the only other soul nearby was Wind the Horse, I buried my face in his mane like a giddy little girl and breathed deep his sweet, earthy aroma that always reminds me of fresh-baked bread.   

Lent: Day Ten

Ten days into Lent, and I find myself struggling to keep up. My prayer journal has two, three, and even four day gaps. This doesn't mean I haven't been praying for family, friends, and those who requested prayer; it only means I have not been writing it all down in my prayer journal, which was my original adopted practice for Lent.

This leaves me asking a couple questions. First, why is discipline so difficult sometimes? And, perhaps the bigger question: Am I seeking the discipline of Lent for the right reasons?

Answer number one: I am human. I am fallen. I am, by nature, prone to sin and sloth. Those are the big picture issues. On a smaller scale -- otherwise known as excuses -- I am tired, I write all day as it is, and I simply forget. For these reasons, my hope tonight is that prayer would be the breath of my soul. Now if only I could claim that beautiful thought! I stole it from a friend's facebook page. But think about it: prayer as the breath of our soul. That means we cannot spiritually live without it. Wow.

Answer number two: I hope so. And I think so. The practice of Lent caught my attention last year. I gave up my car and gained 40 awesome days of long wandering prayers (see post for day nine). Still, I think it's important to examine our motives sometimes. A friend of mine recently called mine into question, and I'm thankful he did.

In evangelical circles, Lent is not required. Thus, it can easily become "hip." Heaven forbid. When I think of Christians doing something because it's hip, I cringe. It reminds me of the story in the Bible where Jesus' disciples ask him who is going to sit next to him in heaven, which is essentially a question of who is coolest. May my faith never, ever be about me. If I am not seeking to draw closer to God and honor him with my faith, I am mistaken. Likewise, if my faith does not produce love for others, I must question its authenticity.

That is why I "do" Lent. I desperately want to call myself back into line with God. And I want to reach out to others and love them by caring about what they care about. I can do that by entering into their lives through prayer. What a privilege and joy!

And so, I stumble, but God picks me up. Also, the call for your prayer requests is still out there. Please let me know how I can join with you in this journey of life.