Friday, April 30, 2010


10 more days!

1 more year . . . 2-2&1/2 more years . . . 3-4 more years . . .

Countdowns aren't as exciting when I realize all the other things I could be counting down toward.

Translation - Time . . . until I'm done with this semester . . . until I'm done with classes . . . until I earn my doctorate . . . until I become licensed . . . unless I move out of the country or get knocked up before any of those things happen, which under the right circumstances, neither would be bad at all.

Perhaps it's crude, and I wouldn't use the term to refer to my friends' pregnancies, but if I ever get pregnant, I will refer to myself as knocked up. I love the phrase because it usually refers to an unplanned pregnancy, and to a certain extent, I believe that all pregnancies and most of life's other events are unplanned. Even when planning a pregnancy, there's no guarantee that a couple will conceive exactly when they want to. Without getting into too much of a soapbox, I think birth control methods give us the illusion that we can control our life events completely around our plans.

Screw my plans. I put too much stock and security in them. I'll make my plans and carry some of them out, but I still want to remain completely open to getting knocked up. I want to be open to whatever God brings into my life without my planning, be it a new opportunity, job, career, ministry, relationship, whatever those things are that could tear into my life, assaulting my carefully made plans in such a way that my life course is so radically different than what I anticipated, but better, stronger, more rewarding than anything my boring head could have dreamed up.

So go ahead, knock me up! I'll probably start kicking and screaming and try to run in the other direction when you do, but maybe I'll remember writing this post and it will help me to surrender.

Sigh. 10 more days!

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

tears held gently

I should be in bed.

I've been telling myself that the past 6 evenings. Meaning that I've spent almost a week staying up past my bedtime, past the point when I'm tired and my body and eyes and mind tell me that I should sleep. I hate this, it's silly, I feel like going to bed, and going to sleep will be good for me, but I fight what's good for me - why? I'm not sure. Anxiety? Distraction? Sleep doesn't seem distracting enough right now.

So, I will finish this brief (I hope post), read the Psalm I'm praying through this week (a neat idea that someone shared Sunday), and enjoy the sweet embrace of sleep and tell myself once again that I will not do this tomorrow night and maybe I'll mean it this time.

Tonight, I sat with a dear friend, tears held gently in both our eyes, and she looked into my eyes, with such a look of love and empathy that I knew that she was truly seeing me, and then this friend told me how God is doing something really special in my life and it's been a blessing for her to be a part of it and watch me go through all these things in the past two years. She told me how I've shown her how to balance giving to others and asking from others.

And I write it down because I want to remember those moments forever. I want to always be able to close my eyes and remember vividly the expression on her face and the precious words she spoke, but mostly I hope to remember her face tonight.

"For to see your face is like seeing the face of God . . ."

Monday, April 19, 2010


Here I sit, on the patio of a beautiful coffee/wine bar, sipping on mint hot chocolate, listening to the bubbling fountain under the auspices of working on statistics homework. It's about 5 degrees too cold and 3 mph too windy to truly be comfortable, but the slight chilly breeze is keeping me alert and aware. I've been here many times before, in various circumstances, with new friends, dates, family, enjoying music, and by myself. Today this recalls a time when I came here one evening last summer, by myself, enjoying the warmth of the sun still in the sky on those long days, reading a book that spoke to me, no, sang to me, about the love of God. On that evening, like this one, I felt lonely, but felt the need to embrace my solitude.

So there and here I sat and sit, part of me longing to reach out to a friend, part of me wanting to just be. left alone. but the inner part of me knowing that God is here in these moments of aloneness and pain, just as He's present with me, in me, around me in the moments of friendship, laughter, music, and dancing. So I breath deeply the cool air, straining my neck toward the dark sky above the trees, knowing that He is here. Guidance, answers, healing, laughter, music will all come later, but for now, all I need is to know that I am here and He is here.