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Playing Poker with God

Aug 24, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality

So often we frantically seek for an explanation to our suffering, to the things in our own life and in the world that make no sense to us. We often seek that explanation, or should I say, “demand” that explanation from God.

I don’t know about you, but no matter my endless beseeching of God for answers, they are rare in coming and often less than comforting when they are heard and/or understood.

I continue to believe there is something profound and unique to which we are called as women in suffering. It’s not that we are to be martyrs – just suffering because we must, or worse, because we choose to allow such. Rather, there is something beautiful and intimate that occurs in the midst of suffering – in relationship with God.

What if, rather than seeking an escape from suffering, we came to anticipate God’s whisper; God’s desire to offer intimacy, kindness, and care?

Offand on I’ve been reading a book called Women and the Value of Suffering by Kristine M. Rankka. She ends the book with a stunning poem by Anne Sexton saying that in it suffering is acknowledged, but with no attempt to justify or explain it.

The Rowing Endeth
I’m mooring my rowboat
at the dock of the island called God.
This dock is made in the shape of a fish
and there are many boats moored
at many different docks.
“It’s okay,” I say to myself,
with blisters that broke and healed
and broke and healed –
saving themselves over and over.
And salt sticking to my face and arms like
a glue-skin pocked with grains of tapioca.
I empty myself from my wooden boat
and onto the flesh of The Island.
“On with it!” He says and thus
we squat on the rocks by the sea
and play- can it be true –
a game of poker.
He calls me.
I win because I hold a royal straight flush.
He wins because He holds five aces.
A wild card had been announced
but I had not heard it
being in such a state of awe
when He took out the cards and dealt.
As He plunks down His five aces
and I sit grinning at my royal flush,
He starts to laugh,
the laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth
and into mine,
and such laughter that He doubles right over me
laughing a Rejoice-Chorus at our two triumphs.
The I laugh, the fishy dock laughs
the sea laughs. The Island laughs.
The Absurd laughs.
Dearest dealer,
I with my royal straight flush,
love you so for your wild card,
that untamable, eternal, gut-driven ha-ha
and lucky love.

If this is even remotely possible: the experience of playing poker with God, of hearing God’s laughter, of coming to love the wild card, of being loved like this, count me in! ‘Not that I can do anything about the suffering that has or will yet come; but I can hope for the grace and winsomeness to hear God’s invitation to play cards in the midst.

Ready to deal?

About Worrying

Aug 14, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement

I made myself get up, showered, dressed, and ready before accessing email (as opposed to my normal pattern of checking it first). It felt like a small, but healthy step toward patterns that are less inclined toward stress and more toward life.

Now, email open, what do I find but the daily posting from The Writer’s Almanac and this poem:

The Worrier’s Guild
Today there is a meeting of the
Worriers’ Guild,
and I’ll be there.
The problems of Earth are
to be discussed
at length
end to end
for
five days
end to end
with 1100 countries represented
all with an equal voice
some wearing turbans and smocks
and all the men will speak
and the women
with or without notes
in 38 languages
and nine different species of logic.
Outside in the autumn
the squirrels will be
chattering and scampering
directionless throughout the town
because
they aren’t organized yet.
(Philip F. Deaver, from How Men Pray)

There are other emails in my inbox, but they are more in the “worrier’s guild” category: things I need to take care of, issues that need to be resolved, responses that need to be generated, work that needs to be done. I will get to all of this. I will complete the projects that the day holds and demands. And maybe, just maybe, I will keep a sense of squirrel-likeness about me: not demanding quite so much of myself, holding the problems of the world but not obsessing over them, leaning heavily away from stress and toward life.

May it be so.

Rescued (about a cat, mostly)

Aug 14, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters

What we do not see, what most of us never suspect of existing, is the silent but irresistible power which comes to the
rescue of those who fight on in the face of discouragement. (Napolean Hill)

…the silent but irresistible power…

Isn’t that lovely? We need to be rescued. And we need to be rescuers. The girls and I got to experience that today.

We are Humane Society fanatics. Sometimes we visit the place just to ooh and aah, but this past week (after months of me promising and not delivering) we actually paid a deposit, waited four excruciating days, and then (paid more and then) picked up the newest rescued animal in our family: Daphne.

She’s purred nonstop from the time we brought her in the house. She’s laid calmly on the laps of both the girls. She’s even used the litter box (Hallelujah)! So far, so good. She’s been rescued.

Jasmine, the feline we rescued over 3 years ago, is not quite so happy. She’s hissing, hiding, and generally just mad. (Apparently, she’s forgotten about that silent but irresistible power.) She doesn’t want to be rescued today. She just wants to be left alone.

Really, I’m not that different from either Daphne or Jasmine (and sometimes in the very same day!). Maybe that’s why I love cats: I need both – to rescue and to be rescued. And some days one is far harder than the other. Why is that? Why do we sometimes demand to be rescued – far more than is reasonable? And why, at other times, do we refuse it?

It’s worth pondering…

But for now, I’m going to just enjoy a 5-month old kitten sitting on my lap, shedding up a storm, and purring. At least today, we’re both rescued – and rescuers.

Prrrrrrrrrr.

Women: Choose the Unfamiliar

Aug 10, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Sovereignty, Women's Wisdom

I am here again, in a familiar place feeling something I’ve felt before, wondering why it’s still here, why I didn’t deal with it more fully before. But I’m glad I have a second chance at it…and I know that if I need a third chance, I’ll get it. I also know that if it comes up again, I’ll recognize it sooner and deal with it more readily. This is growth. And, I am happy to be alive. ~ Jan Denise

I just got off the phone with a dear friend, a wise woman, an amazing individual. She talked to me of a current relationship for which she’s had much hope. She told me how it has progressed, how she has known desire for connection that has not dared surface in relationships-past, how beautiful it has been to be pursued, to be seen, to be heard, to be beautiful. She also told me about some unsettling patterns and behaviors that aren’t beautiful, aren’t honoring, aren’t worthy of who she is. So disappointing. And so familiar.

Why is that? Why do we, as women who are strong, courageous, risky, and beautiful, so often find ourselves in all-too-familiar relationships that are not what we want or deserve?

This is nothing new. I’m instantly reminded of the plethora of bestsellers over the years that speak to this pattern, such as Women Who Love Too Much and He’s Just Not That In To You. Clearly, it’s not an oddity. It’s a pattern. It’s familiar.

What would it mean for women to choose to function in unfamiliar ways; to let discomfort, in many ways, be a discerning tool? What would it mean to be in relational patterns – whether at work, with family, or in love – that are not what we’re used to, that don’t even feel all that comfortable (at least to begin with)?

Maybe we need to do unfamiliar things in order to break old styles and move into new, healthy ones.

I’m thinking unfamiliarity, albeit risky and dangerous, might just be a better choice – professionally, personally, emotionally, and relationally.

Eleanor Roosevelt is quoted as saying, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” How’s that for unfamiliar? And how’s that for moving us into realms we’d not normally go, places we’d not normally frequent, careers we’d not normally pursue, relationships we’d not normally consider.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s something to be learned – or at least heeded – when we find ourselves in a place that feels familiar. Maybe that’s the moment when we can best discern that we’d might want to get the hell out of that situation and into something new, something surprising, something unfamiliar…something hope-full.

I don’t know…these are unfamiliar and somewhat uncomfortable thoughts for me – particularly if I actually apply them!

As is often the case, I’m drawn to the stories in Scripture. I think the case could be made that “unfamiliar,” at least in relation to God, is more the rule than the exception. Many things were asked of those who populate these stories that were scary, risky, dangerous, unfamiliar…and ultimately full of hope. God’s way of relating with us seems to be to invite us into the unfamiliar so that we can know something far more of God, of self, of one another. Hmmm.

Worth thinking about…maybe even worth choosing to actually do!

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar. ~ Raymond Lindquist

My Proclivity for Lists

Jul 31, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Spirituality

I’m a list-maker, I admit it. I not only make them, I complete them. I can have multiple lists running at the same time: work, home,
parenting, the grocery store, yard work, future vacation itineraries – both fantasized and real. Whether fortunate or not, my brain has the capacity to hold all of these at once, determine which one(s) to work on at a particular time, and still recall the others.

My parents would say I should enjoy this while I can because that now-taken-for-granted-capacity will begin to fail as my age increases. I know what they mean but at least right now I’m not sure it’s a gift that’s all that great.

Lists somehow regiment life. They add order. And though both of these may be good things, I only want lists informing my life, not defining my reality.

Lists have a strange and mysterious power to become the determiner of what was, is, and should be – in many realms, but perhaps most profoundly for a religious person who lives within a text that is filled with more lists than we know what to do with.

I was looking at some passages in 1st and 2nd Timothy last week that had to do with Elders: their role, the qualities of such, etc. And I found myself incredibly frustrated. Too many to-do’s. True, the order thing is there – in spades, but for me, they felt like they’d lost their goodness and moved to something dangerous, something life-draining vs. life-giving. I struggled to think of a way to breathe life into these texts; to offer a larger perspective on how I/we might understand them. I wanted to find and invite something, anything different. I didn’t have much luck.

As I’ve spent some more time reflecting on the palpable tension I experienced in this context I wondered how it might speak to a larger reality in my life these days:

My list-making, or at least my previous understanding of what would provide me order, security, boundaries, safety, and even answers, stopped working the way it used to.

Surely, I used to think, the Biblical text – the mandates, the commandments, the lists (and those who’ve interpreted it) could offer me a rubric through which to understand my life and how to live it: a simple step-by-step process that would make sense of the increasing complexity I found myself in. I went back to the books that lined my shelves, most written by reputable Christians, hoping to find that framework.

They let me down – through no fault of their own. Somehow, between the time I bought the books and read them the first, second, or even third time and now my life no longer fit. The rules and how-to’s don’t make sense at all. I need something that offers freedom, something that gives me life.

Not surprisingly really, I found it in the Biblical text when I went to the stories – especially the women, who didn’t live by the rules and were (still) deeply loved by God. I found story after story that literally drips in freedom, that offers life. I’m incredibly grateful.

Still, what to do with the lists – my own and those in Scripture? At least for now, I choose to understand them in the larger context of the Biblical narrative, in the larger context of a God who desires and promises life above all else. For now, I wonder how the lists themselves, the do’s and don’ts, the thou shalts and thou shalt nots might limit both freedom and life.

For now, I’m fine to just wonder – not worry, about making the lists, completing the lists, crossing off every item.

If nothing else (though I believe there’s more) I’m glad I can remember what I need at the grocery store while simultaneously typing on my cellphone a list of to-do’s for work the next day as I’m waiting in the checkout line, looking at my watch, and thinking about how many things I need to get done before the next alarm sounds on my calendar/phone indicating what’s next on my list…

Enough typing. I’ve got to get on to the next thing on my list! 

Happy 50th Anniversary!

Jul 11, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters

This past weekend my siblings, our families, and nearly 100 others celebrated the 50th anniversary of my parent’s wedding. Stunning. Mind-boggling.

Given that I’ll never celebrate that milestone, and knowing even some of what I do about the complexion and landscape of their years together, I find it even more amazing. All the hearty congratulations, the expressions of pride and honor, and the tears of joy and love that were shed do not even begin to signify the reality of what those 50 years have held. How does one even begin to capture or understand all of what this means? It’s impossible, really.

And it would have been completely impossible for my parents to ever imagine, 50 years ago, what their celebration would look like and feel like. How could they have known of the story that would be told in their lives – separate and intertwined? How could they have known of both the heartache and joy that awaited them in the birth and then life of the three of their children – and then four grandchildren? How could they have anticipated the ways in which they would disappoint, wound, celebrate, surprise, and care for one another?

It’s impossible. And that’s what I love about it. In a world that often leaves us skeptical and doubting; wanting assurances, answers, and safe bets, their marriage embodies blind faith…not always their own, but always God’s on their behalf. Sometimes because of their efforts and perhaps more times than not, in spite of them, their relationship has endured, stretched, and grown. Amazing. Stunning.

And maybe not so impossible. Maybe celebrating 50 years together reminds us that we’re really not in control and still, beauty, life, and love exist, survive, and even thrive. Maybe just being in relationship period – any relationship is completely impossible but sometimes, many times, it’s something that happens, lives, breaths, and continues anyway…a good news of sorts that calls us again and again to something larger than ourselves, Someone larger than ourselves.

For me, my parents 50th was and is the gospel lived out. To celebrate their years together renewed my belief in and commitment to God’s crazy love for us; a love that is amazing, stunning, and impossible – and frankly, is the only thing that enables our own.

Happy 50th, Mom and Dad. I’m so proud of you and love you very much.