Squeezing through just as the subway doors close behind

I will bless the Lord at all times: His praise shall continually be in my mouth. Psalm 34

I remember when I first memorized Psalm 34: Barrio Nuestro Esfuerzo, San José de Ocoa.  And carried around with me, framing my thoughts and vision through each of the very long and hard days. 

Bless the LORD at all times. 

This moment is sort of like the end of a hard 100 IM.  Really I can’t quite pull it off and the gasps for air are deep and long. Our holiday season was a veritable onslaught of over-the-top moments, with nary a blink of reflection or time to transfer them into long-term memory. 

Alan and I sat in front of the double log fire last night, nicely set by Cameron the most amazing housesitter ever, sipping the Bailey’s that I had dragged along through journeys there and back again, only spilling a bit, and tried to sort through the adventures. And it is a fact that Mr. Alan and Mr. Samwise are quite alike, especially as they walk through the front door: “Well, I’m back,” he said.

·      Ah, once again, the introductory more candies and heaping white frosting than the human mind can imagine constructions of cleverness at the very defining standard of warm hospitality at the annual gingerbread competition,

·      The welcoming arch of happiness over my parents’ front door, and the buen natale star on the top of our tree,

·      The intersections of a life together well lived, dancing and celebrating as Juan and Lisa’s vows of commitment are renewed for the next fifty years to the mixed beat of I Will Always Love You, Peruvian panpipes and cumbias,

·      Scooping up Jenny and Tim waiting at the airport pickup,

·      Heather-as-Elizabeth talking about what it was really like to be the mother of John in that particular time and space,

·      Sorting through metaphors to capture the year: a dangling necklace from Baghdad and measureable outcomes of a God-at-work,

·      In the dizziness of gift mounds of brilliant wit abounding, one stands out, delivered by two gentle giant elves of kindness, a mounted and framed Venceremos, Marchamos con la Historia poster ripped off of a Santo Domingo wall almost thirty years ago,

·       And another story told in flickering candlelight by an unchained and thus empowered voice: Rise, shine! For your light has come; the glory of the LORD has risen upon you,

·      More stories, this time recounted overlooking the twinkling Tucson skyline with Italian wine and what does it mean to be green in blue and yellow cultures,

·      Christmas stockings stuffed with tokens of love and bullet points of victory and growth and hopes for the new year, looking each other in the eye around the table with lots of bacon, the meat candy,

·      A midnight drive through frozen New England, sweeping through the soaring pines with the lulling background conversation of Dustin and Alan keeping each other awake, to step into the snuggling welcoming hug of beautiful Pamela,

·      One last Christmas feast, this time with poppers, golden crispy-skinned roasted turkey and flaming figgy pudding, and dozens of candles and one last heap of packages of selective cleverness,

·      Pushing a cart through the Hanover Coop with Mz. Andrea at last, chatting about not much, but sweetness in the moment,

·      Perfect pretzels emerging from soda water; somehow even the hard moments can be immersed in His Spirit and recover perspective and forgiveness,

·      The boys chopping and pinching and sautéing for exactly-right pizzas, three in a row,

·      Walking through Central Park, alone, with huge floaty snowflakes,

·      Lunch at Trattoria Machiavelli the most amazing Italian restaurant ever with a gracious Uncle Jim and a loving group of people willing to welcome him, cattycorner to his lonely apartment,

·      A long slightly-too-blustery walk to classic NYC urban tucked right under the Manhattan Bridge, the reBar for soup, mac and cheese and craft beers on tap,

·      And the answer to what was most marvelous for an Iraqi and an Italian scouring New York City in twenty hours of hop on and hop off, “Everything,” and the cheerful skyping coming through the closed door complete with ukulele songs,

·      Um, what could be more gentle than a two-hour lingering over the Sunday New York Times with coffee and bearclaws at Panera Breads?

·      Soaring frescos and overarching domes vibrate with the pulsing power of Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir, and a message for year: It’s a new day, new being the operative word. 

·      Only five subway stops away, and some rather rushed walking through the East End to a narrow hallway of a room packed with crazy colored lights and bulbs and signs and postcards for Indian food that only Dustin can sift through for Charly and me.

·      …and the wedding itself… circles of tables floating on stainless steel ponds,  with a wailing saxophone and upright bass wrapping around familiar-but-seldom-seen faces and a very articulate commitment to step into the challenge of love and a future… and how very much fun to savor this world of Max and Andrea and who they are and are becoming.

·      And… after a two-thirty-in-the-morning-Tucson-time start with folks clinging to their weary humor with two fists, to be greeted at the bottom of the down escalator by Hood Limousine Service, each holding a sign, one for the Voelkel party, the other for the Schaber party, with momma barbecue ribs and fluffy biscuits waiting at home. 

“Well, I’m back,” we said.

It’s a new year.  13 100 freestyle, 13 75 kick, 13 50 pull, 13 25 IM sprints, up and out and breathing deeply under the bright blue sky. 

The silence is deafening

Thou hast known my soul.  Psalm 31:7

To be known.  Truly.  To the depth of the soul.  The broken communication patterns set first in the garden instigated by the sly whispers of the Evil One continue today.  How to smash through faulty perceptions, crooked judgments, rotted memories into love?  All of the good intentions in the world trip and stumble into hurt silences and “you always.”  

Judge not lest ye be judged.  Forgive and it shall be forgiven.

The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

God Himself.  Knows.  And in this knowing He shows mercy and grace and forgiveness.  And it is only as I disentangle from self that I can know as He knows.  Both myself and the other.  And extend His mercy and grace and forgiveness.  From Him, His Spirit through me His child. Gentle rain from heaven.

And in the quiet stillness of heaps and heaps of piled-up Vermont snow there is a peace.  Silence.  White laced forest criss-crosses in all directions.  White upon white, the earth blends seamlessly into the sky.  And in this hushed world I am known.  

Be still and know that I am God. 

May the flaming hell-fire voice be quenched in this deep comfort of calm, and may I respond to this knowing. To know Him.  And His.  With mercy and grace and forgiveness.  Unstrained. From Heaven.

the little snow people, with the carrots and buttons, loss themselves in love, and are now transformed, never to go back

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise Him.  Psalm 28:7

Right now, I am liking that the I am helped is present tense and right now.  He is my strength–He nourishes my bones and keeps me upright and sturdy, perhaps even rising up on the wings of eagles, and He is my shield, protecting me from the poisonous lying darts of the enemy who attempts, fairly ceaselessly to rob me of joy, whispering lies of bitterness and accusation. The joy that comes from Him, that comes from drawing my water from His well; let it splash over my head and run down my entirety. He is sufficient.

And thus, because He is my strength and shield, let my heart rejoice.  

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room,

And heaven and nature sing.

Let me open wide the door of my heart, sweep out all of me, and welcome You in.  Just thinking... what an unself thing laughter is– one of those complete eyes off me moments.  

Selah.

My prayer for you as well today

When You said, “Seek My face,”

My heart said to You, “Your face, Lord, I will seek.”  Psalm 27:8

There is something about this verse that fills me with joy.  The simplicity of it all, stripped down, with no distractions.  A love song.  Just You and me. 

You are my love and my life, 

You are my inspiration. 

just You and me. 

simple and free. 

baby You’re everything, I ever dreamed of. 

yea, yea.

May it be.  And as I consider the day ahead of me, and the trip to Costco after swimming and a quick cup of coffee with Jenny and Tim for salmon and bacon and Brie and stocking stuffers and the wrapping of gifts but the quilt is done and the printing of minivan complete with a GPS reservations and the sweet breads to be knead and old rock and roll stickers for Giovanni’s guitar case and I sure better not run my stockings tonight and from whom to borrow a good coat from to withstand the 27 degrees waiting for me in Vermont, may I continue to seek His face.

The Lord bless you, and keep you;

The Lord make His face shine on you,

And be gracious to you;

The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,

And give you peace.

And I am so looking forward to tomorrow’s midnight mass at St. Cyril’s with Giovanni.  Pause, breathe, peace.  

But. This is not about place. And time.  Rather the heart and seeking.  Pause, breathe, peace.  

Go ahead and turn on the light

Examine me, O Lord, and test me; try my reins and my heart. Psalm 26:2

Nicole just returned from her grand finale with Rachel’s Challenge- they were dined, gifted and...evaluated, they got to go over tapes of their lectures with an instructor.  As a teacher, I know the scariest and most humbling thing ever to be videotaped and then watch it.  It’s all there, the incomplete sentences, the clapping of hands, the marching back and forth, the ineffective classroom management, documented and in full color.  I can still exactly picture the last tape I saw of myself... with piles of bones in the middle of each lab table and I was leaping about garnering enthusiasm for Scientific Illustration and really seeing.  But it’s also the most effective means of growth.  Suddenly it’s not about what we imagine we are doing or hoping we are saying, but what is real. And that is the foundation for all growth.  Truth.  

I am quite sure that I blow right past the discipline of confession- beyond just the general hurriedness of my life, I am not much of one for any mirror, especially that of my soul.  A quick glance, or the occasional sharp Holy Spirit stab, and that is it.  And it’s really not if I am brave enough to unbare the hidden parts to the keen eye of Him, but am I humble enough?  Am I willing to stop pretending and let him rip out all of the Christyness and leave Himself in her stead?  

“Give me all of you. I don’t want so much of your time, so much of your talents and money, and so much of your work. I want you, all of you.  I have not come to torment or frustrate the natural man or woman, but to kill it.  No half measures will do. I don’t want to only prune a branch here and a branch there; rather I want the whole tree out! Hand it over to me, the whole outfit, all of your desires, all of your wants and wishes and dreams. Turn them all over to me, give yourself to me and I will make of you a new self---in my image. Give me yourself and in exchange I will give you Myself. My will, shall become your will. My heart, shall become your heart.” C. S. Lewis

Yes.  One doesn’t really want to settle for playing Christianity, going through the motions, trying to do everything right, sort of, most of the time.  One wants to be.  Thus the discipline.  Pause and let His loving eyes probe deep within.  There are no secrets from Him, only from myself.  Thus, it is time to drop the robe of social niceties and allow Him free rein to do as He will, the Master Craftsman creating in His own image.  

Search me, O God, and know my heart;

Try me, and know my anxieties;

And see if there is any wicked way in me,

And lead me in the way everlasting.

Stand in the gap before me for the land

Good and upright is the Lord;

Therefore He teaches sinners in the way. 
The humble He guides in justice, 
And the humble He teaches His way.
All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth. Psalm 25:8-10

Humility.  This word has been on my mind for the past week.  The board of my organization at last stepped in and replaced the president with a missionary kid from Africa.  Whose first presentation was centered on this word, humility.  And what does it look like in real life and how does it impact our decisions and even bigger, our mission and values.  A dark cloud has lifted.  I have been praying for so many months: May all of us be aware that we have been called to serve “the least of these.” Action verb: serve.

Max knows all about the least of these.  And serving.  He just got a grown-up sought-after job yesterday with the Bronxdefenders.org - a staff of "lawyers and social workers, parent advocates, investigators, civil advocates and team administrators committed to providing zealous, compassionate representation both inside and outside the courthouse." And really, to me, this is humility.  To serve the absolute down and out, who are there for whatever reason of brokenness- poverty, substance and alcohol abuse, mental illness, family instability... it’s all what Christ came to restore.  He did not come to condemn the world, but through Him the world might be saved.  There is nothing neat and tidy about the business, well, outside of the welcoming front foyer with cushy leather dignifying seats, but this is the Father’s business, and we should be about it.

The humble He guides in justice, 
And the humble He teaches His way.

Even if the strides are a little too long

...who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity... Psalm 24:4 

There are so many distracting baubles in our world.  That simply are of no lasting value.  Mere soap bubbles caught in the breeze. And while it is all good to enjoy the beauty and warmth and unique preciseness dangling about my head, let me not lift up my soul to them, allowing them to chomp at the roots of my joy, my peace and my most of all my love, which are from the Spirit.  

My heart echoed “Amen, brother, amen” at Saturday’s wedding, as we listened to two friends publicly affirm their value statement.  Colossians 3 says to Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. And rather than let the glitter and the beeping and the approval of the world worm its way into my heart, rather I shall chose, again and again, as God’s beloved child, to put on His compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. To be even-tempered, content with second place, and quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love.

And maybe some of this is the sort of dressing up that my sister and I did when we were little, wanting to be big and beautiful like our momma, we would swirl around in the long living room curtains, swish, swish, oh so lovely.  I am certainly in process. But it’s all about choosing the footprints that I will follow. Even if the strides are a little too long.

The earth is the LORD's, and the fulness thereof; the work of His hands.  And it is good.  But let me choose wisely, the better way.  He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.