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Happy 47th Birthday to Me!

Nov 30, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

After writing posts for both of my daughters on their birthdays, I thought it only fitting that I do the same for myself!

Happy Birthday to me!

This has been a full, rich, painful, beautiful, long, amazing, surprising, miraculous, arduous, labor-filled year. I have known many tears, much frustration, and deep anguish. I have also known more laughter and life than ever before. I have been struck again and again by how amazing it is that both can coexist and frankly, be enhanced when juxtaposed to one another.

I’ve had many conversations with Emma and Abby this past year about what it means to let more than one thing be true at the same time: disappointment and hope, sadness and joy, frustration and desire. And this has been a year of that being enfleshed within me – on their behalf, certainly, but powerfully, on my own.

I have found much strength within me these past twelve months; strength that has enabled me to make difficult decisions and then live with the ramifications of such, strength that has allowed me to survive – and even thrive – in places I’d feared (and avoided) for many years. And that strength has, amazingly, not made me tougher, harder, or colder; rather, its enabled me to feel more tender, compassionate, and “present” to my own heart and the heart’s of others. I’m grateful.

Last year at this time I could have never been convinced of or prepared for the twelve months that were about to commence. Note to self: be glad you don’t know the future! Out of curiosity, I went back to the past – to my blog posts from about a year ago to see what I was writing. I came across some October, 2006 reflections on the women of Proverbs 1 and 31 that were amazingly prophetic for the year that was to come:

These women – metaphorical and real – are who I want to be: wise, listening to and living with those on the margins, gaining strength through perseverance and struggle, dignified and fearless, forever laughing with the abandon of a child. God knows and loves this woman. I am becoming this woman.

Indeed, I am. I feel more wise, more able to listen to those who are unseen, forgotten, or harmed, strengthened through perseverance and certainly struggle, more dignified, more fearless, and often laughing both with the abandon of a child – and with my own children.

I am this woman. Amazing.

That’s a year worth celebrating in the midst of acknowledging and grieving its losses and pains.

Another year older. Another year of being the grateful recipient of consistent, unpredictable, mysterious, and precious life.

“It is finished.” (My divorce is final.)

Aug 23, 2007 | Sovereignty, Women's Wisdom

Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending. (Lazarus Long)

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. (T.S. Eliot)

“It is finished.”

Yesterday I spoke these words. The final, court-approved, attorney-certified documentation arrived. I am no longer married.

It’s an end, to be sure. The end of meaningful, something beautiful, something painful, something
rich, something deeply significant.

All endings bring a sense of grief (even when you’re the one who has chosen such). There is a finality that is weighty and cannot be escaped.

Endings also signify new beginnings. That reality feels weightless; one that is unbounded, unrestrained, unknown, and unfettered. And I find myself, at least today, more compelled (and comforted) by others’ words instead of my own…

You’re searching…for things that don’t exist; I mean beginnings. Ends and beginnings – there are no such things. There are only middles. (Robert Frost)

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, about having to change, about taking the moment and making the best of it – and all without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Delicious Ambiguity.
(Gilda Radner)

My life – yesterday and today – feels like a book. Yesterday I ended one chapter, even somewhat tragically. Today, I am anticipating what is yet to come, I turn the page and find the next one blank. A clean slate. White as snow. Anxious and excited for the pen to hit the page and create a new text, new plots, new characters, new experiences. What will this story yet tell?

The secret to a rich life is to have more beginnings than endings.(David Weinbaum)

There is a woman at the beginning of all great things. (Alphonse de Lamartine)

Every day is a fresh beginning, Every morn is the world made new. (Sarah Chauncey Woolsey)

“It is finished.” And…it is just beginning.

May it be so. 

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

Will I tell you what I want?

Aug 14, 2006 | My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Writing

A friend loaned me a book last week that I can’t put down. It’s called Women and Desire: Beyond Wanting to be
Wanted by Polly Young-Eisendrath. Check this out:

…as successful as (many) women have become, they often feel “out of control” in their personal lives. Although they can speak openly and passionately about the values and principles they believe in, and defend others’ rights, they still resist claiming and asserting personal needs and desires, especially when these are in conflict with others’. They fear being seen as too bossy or too self-absorbed.

There is something in me that reacts to this (and not favorably), while another part of me that knows it all too well. I am good at speaking openly and passionately about ideas and concepts, but when it comes to things I’m passionate about on my own behalf – both professionally and
personally? Well, that becomes a different story altogether.

I’ve been working a lot on this – diligently (and even passionately) – and I believe I’m making progress. It’s a challenge, though, to unlearn such well-taught and well-honed skills.

What does it mean for women to speak boldly of our own desires? Not desire for desire’s sake, but professionally, relationally, systemically, culturally, theologically. What does it mean to continue to speak and name what we see? To willingly choose to use our god-
given gifts of perception, intellect, and experience to provide alternative perspectives on things that often go unnoticed which can then cause subtle (and sometimes blatant) harm. What does it mean to have the courage to continue to speak, period?

All of this and then some is what I want
so deeply to be true for me – and for those with whom I live, work, and love. That’s what they deserve. That’s what I deserve.

In a similar vein, I read an article last night by the author of Finally Feminist: A Pragmatic Christian Understanding of Gender. Though I struggle a bit with both the title and the general idea of the book, there was one paragraph that caught my attention and has stuck with me the past couple of days: 

[She] urges women not just to wait for a brighter day, but to speak up now, and particularly about the small things…She points out that repeated small slights constitute large-scale social patterns of repression–that mountains can, in fact, arise out of the accumulation of molehills. So women can and must do something to keep the pattern from being reinforced.

I want to speak. Not because I have something urgent that needs to be shouted out, time and again, until it’s heard (though that is true) but because I want to be seen and known fully for who I most truly am, not some censored, edited version.

Yep. That’s what I really want.

Piano Recitals

Jun 11, 2006 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty

Yesterday my 9-year-old daughter, Emma, gave her first piano recital. She was joined by 5 other young pianists – though all of them already had their debuts behind them. 

It was lovely. 

Before we left the house Emma was anxious, teary, and wondering how to get out of even going. Confident she would “mess up” and embarrased and ashamed of that potential in advance, my discussion of positive self-talk and affirmation fell on deaf ears (though I continued anyway). 

When we got to the church it wasn’t long before her instructor made some welcoming comments and then called Emma up as the first performer. As I watched her walk forward, position herself and her music, and then lift her hands to the keys I realized that despite all her emotions she would follow through on what she needed (and wanted) to do. She would perform. 

And she did. Beautifully! 

I wonder how often my life is like this…deeply anxious about what’s to come and worried about whether or not I’ll “mess up,” but when it comes to the moment I step forward, get positioned, and play.

Perfection isn’t the point. Participation is. Playing is!

When my concern overrides my playing, no music results. And when no music results (regardless of form, quality, or expertise) the community cannot celebrate. 

When Emma finished each of her three songs the audience burst into applause. They celebrated with her and on her behalf. They celebrated because she showed up and played!

May we all be as brave as she was, trust that our individual efforts will make a difference when shared, and then play!