I pity the fool

I’ve really been on a reminiscing kick lately. I’m not sure if it started because I was watching a little too much “I love the 80’s/90’s” (I think I have a crush on Michael Ian Black), because Grace and I played Super Mario Bros. on her Nintendo the other night for about an hour, or because I bumped into one of my closest high school friends at Costco just now…

But there’s something fun about looking back. I spent the last hour looking through just about every photo I have. A few things I’ve realized: 1) dang, I was a whole lot skinnier than I ever felt like I was. (still trying to figure out why it was cool to wear huge flannels and my dad’s sweatshirt… everything was so oversized…) and 2) dang, my hair was bad. Awesomely bad. Bad enough that it borders on the miraculous that I ever had a boyfriend. How did I not know? (Will I look back on pics now and say the same thing? Scary). I had great company though… check out your old pics!! 3) Nothing was as bad as it seemed at the time. 4) My friends were crazy (not everything changes). 5) I didn’t know ANYTHING.

Kevin and I got to talking the other day, trying to remember our favorite things growing up. Thankfully our memories have been somewhat blocked… but of what we can remember, here’s the list: (VH1 would be proud)…

TV
1. Saved by the Bell (that Zach Morris was SO hot!)
2. the A-team
3. the Disney afternoon (Ducktales (woo-ooo), Chip & Dale’s, Tale-Spin, etc.)
4. MacGyver (best mullet ever)
5. Full House (I’m sorry.)
6. Mr. Rogers
7. Flintstones
8. The Muppets (gonzo was my favorite)

movies
1. Star Wars, esp. (episodes 4 & 6)
2. Flight of the Navigator
3. The Chipmunk Adventure (remember Alvin Simon Theodore & the hot air balloons?)
4. Old Yeller (my first traumatic movie watching experience)
5. a Three Stooges Marathon on VHS
6. Little Mermaid (look at this stuff… isn’t it neat…)
7. The Karate Kid (thanks Mom & dad for buying the boy KK pajamas… responsible for my getting beat up regularly as a kid)
8. Indiana Jones & the last Crusade (the ‘rents took me thinking I’d be too little to take any of it in… til the scene where the bad guy drinks from the wrong grail and his face melts off… the whole theatre is in silent shock except there’s this little girl in pigtails pointing and laughing hysterically in the seventh row back).

Feel free to add to my list if you can think of anything…

being and doing

It’s pretty attractive these days to keep a busy schedule. In the church, it’s pretty much a badge of honor. We don’t really mean for it to be, but it is. It’s real subtle, but it looks something like this: Look at how hard she’s serving. What a heart for God that guy has! You start out with a sincere desire to serve God and to touch people’s lives, so you work hard. The harder you work, the more ministries you find yourself a part of, the more badges you earn. The more badges you earn, the more you’re respected and admired. The more you’re respected and admired, the more you’re motivated to keep busy. And on the cycle goes. You can never do too much of a good thing, right?

Til one day, you look in the mirror, and you’re wondering who on earth you’re looking at. You’re burned out, you’re tired, you’re ready to quit. But if you were to quit being ________ (fill in your own blank)… who would you be?

Right now I am a legal secretary-pastoral intern-worship leader-youth mentor-communications director. Look at my badges… look at who I am…

But are my badges, are my job descriptions and titles really who I am? (For that matter, is what I type here really who I am?) If I were to quit all of those things, would I still be able to recognize myself in the mirror?

Sometimes, I’m a little unsure of what that answer would be. It’s so easy to find myself solely in my doing… to see myself in the image people reflect back to me as a result of what I do. That scares me. For two reasons: 1) I can get pretty impressed with myself sometimes. Look at how hard I work, look at what a servant I am, look at how much I love God… I start enjoying the thank-you-for-using-your-gifts and boy-that-really-blessed-me, etc., a little too much. I try hard to have a right heart, but sometimes, I start seeing my only value as what I can produce. Either that, or I get really disgusted with myself. I fell short, I messed up, I couldn’t do enough. Basing my self-evaluation on my activity and on others’ responses always leaves me with a skewed view, one way or the other. 2) I run the risk of being so busy “doing ministry” that I cease ministering. I’m running from here to there, doing this or that, too busy to really be available for unscheduled kinds of ministry. (They’re called, in common language, “interruptions”). I miss making time to stop and listen and look into the eyes of a friend, rather than a quick hug and away-I-go. I miss the “I really need to talk” tone in one of my girls’ voices because I have to go help with tearing down sound. As if speakers and monitors couldn’t wait!

I run the risk of being the priest or the Levite who are so consumed with the activities they’re admired for, they ignore and pass by their bloodied and battered neighbor, lying desperate in the street.

When I got hurt nearly two years ago, I fought so hard to continue all the activities I had done before. I had myself convinced that it was because I loved people and serving God, and while that was surely a part of it, I think it was also that I was scared to give up my honor badges. If I wasn’t Stacey, Super-Hero-Christian… who was I? Could people love me if I didn’t produce anything? Could I love myself? Could God? I learned that the answer was yes… yes, grace does exist, and it not only exists in God, but it also exists in the hearts of his people. I am still me, even when I do nothing very impressive.

Let me be clear – being means precious little if doing does not express it (James is a bit blunt on this)… but for us busy types, it’s important to remember what comes first, and what truly makes us who we are. We are who we are because of the work of Christ in our lives. That’s it. We can’t add to what God has already done. We can only express it.

Thomas Merton offers some great thoughts on this:

“… we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity. We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from circumstances that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are to be the quiet expression of our inner life. We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting an immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition.”

“We are warmed by fire, not by the smoke of the fire. We are carried over the sea by a ship, not by the wake of a ship. So too, what we are is to be sought in the invisible depths of our own being, not in our outward reflection of our own acts.”

Take off your badges for a second and look into the mirror. Can you still see yourself? God still does. In case you’ve forgotten, He’s as crazy about you as ever. Just as much in your dumb regretted moments and motives as He is when you shine. I needed that reminder this week. And if you did too, be at peace.

blame idaho

plane got delayed an hour in boise (for a grand total of 3 hours in Boise Airport)…
happy to be home safe…
think this week’s drama aged me an extra year…
headed to bed.

the joys (and pains) of family

Well, I finally have a quiet moment and there’s no worry someone will try to be calling on the phone line, so here I am.

Long day, but I think now that the service is over we can all relax a little. The service was a good. Grandpa, his love for his family and his strong faith in God were honored today. I learned new things and have a new respect for a man that these last few years had me struggling to understand. He was a good man. And a feisty stubborn one, but that’s a trait that’s been passed on to most of us, so we can’t complain.

Most importantly, I got to say goodbye. (By the way, my nervousness about the open-casket style of funeral was unfounded. He looked good and spiffed up in his suit and so peaceful… it was a great memory for me to take with me, rather than memories of how sick he’s been the last few years. My nervousness about singing was a bit founded… I struggled through the first verse, but sang it strong the second time through, thank God for repeats).

It’s been awesome being with my cousins this past few days, especially the ones I grew up with when I lived down here. Whenever I’m visiting, it’s like I have an older brother (David, 30 last week) who torments me (sneaking up on me, tickling my feet, smacking me for no reason, and teasing me mercilessly) and two little sisters who want to be just like me. I don’t have any cousins close to home, so when we’re together, we really have a good time. We’re still laughing at Beavis and Butthead impressions that Kevin and David had me busting up over three years ago. It’s just nice to fit. To have a broader circle of people who, when they walk out the door, call out a “love you,” as they’re leaving. When I look at all these different pieces of my family, I see pieces of myself in them… not just resemblance-wise, but in personality, expressions, laughter, all of it. It really is home.

What’s been really bad is that I’ve picked the Southern back up into my accent. It only takes a day for me, and I’m saying things like “Let me grab that for ya right quick,” and “Howdy, whatcha know?” I felt even more at home when Dave and I busted out some lemon juice, mixed it with salt, and sipped it down. (Normally, i like eating a real lemon, but you make due with what you’ve got). When you’re with family, the weird becomes normal.

It’s been so meaningful just to have everyone be there for each other. (There are a few, like in any family, that have been pains in the #58, but for the most part everyone has really pulled together.) These are the situations where you realize just how good you have it, to be part of a family like this. It’s going to be hard to come home so quickly. Somehow, I’m looking forward to my own bed rather than this couch…
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In other news, due to recent events, I think I’m going to enter into a new phase of my life soon. Relationship? Nah. Well, sort of.

When I return home, househunting begins. Yes, I am sick of throwing away money on rent and am, barring some major craziness, going to start the process of buying my very first house. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, hating burning money on rent, but never thought it was a possibility for a young unmarried type. However, my aunt, a real estate lender, pre-qualified me tonight (apparently I’m not as hopeless as I thought) and we talked about my options. It sounds crazy, but I’ll actually be paying less than I do in rent, for more space. And a backyard. And, eventually, once I’m settled, a big ol’ dog. (YES!) So we’ll see what happens. This is pretty exciting. The thought of moving for the 13th time in six years is a bit daunting (and this will finally involve the long-awaited move of my piano from the folks house to mine), but the thought of being settled for a while and painting and decorating is awful nice too. Kevin is excited too… he’ll rent from me. All the benefits of a house without him being tied down. No worries for him.

Anyhow, that’s my day. Peace out boy scout. (I’m a bit tired, can you tell??)

Countdown to BoiseBash: T minus two days…

God is in the little things… and the little ones

After trying to be a tough cookie all week, the moment I’d been dreading came. I feel like a mess. It hit me at work (how stupid is that?). Nothing prompted it other than a lack of distraction from the fact that the funeral is in two days… but at about 230 today I was sure I was going to be sick. I didn’t cry, but I for sure couldn’t focus on all the legalese on my screen. My boss, God love him, took one look at me & knew, and kindly let me off early.

I babysat tonight, as I always do Wednesday nights, and was so not wanting to be there. But God used these precious little kids to soothe my hurting heart. Aside from the cute little kid giggling that always puts me in a better mood (you know, where they laugh on the air’s way out AND on the way in… huge high pitched gasps)… they were abnormally sweet tonight. Wolfie told me he had “weally, weally” missed me last week, and threw his little 4 year old self at me in a full run. Later asked if we could snuggle during the movie (are kids like dogs? can they sense these things?) As I was putting Mena (2) to bed, I held her for a while, more cause I needed it than she did — she cuddled her little tow head on my shoulder and just hugged me with her sticky little hands. I have no idea who was holding who… I had to fight the tears. God knew tonight was exactly what I needed. Simple love.

Kevo and I are nervous about the open casket funeral… we’ve only been to memorials, and not many of those. He’s a pallbearer, and I’m singing. I’ve done weddings, and those are pressure, but this… I’m desperately praying I’ll be able to keep it together. When we worked on a worship project up north, my worship pastor Matt said the song I wrote would really minister at funerals. Didn’t ever think I’d be singing it for something of my own. It’s going to be hard, but what am I going to do, say no?

Anyway, if God reminds you, please say a quick prayer for my family. It’s kind of a war zone down there right now… emotions running high, parts of the family not helping out and not being very kind… it’s just hard, and I know we need God’s peace to come in and be there. I’ll be glad when it’s all over.

I know this is a downer post, and I’m sorry if it’s whiny, I’m just not in the mood to fake it at the moment. Soon I’ll be back to my goofy self, and I’ll write a post about my latest frustration: the mystery cat pee that has somehow made its appearance in our apartment. (We don’t have a cat… I hate them).

I’m hoping to have online access in Cali, but if I don’t, have a good weekend and I’ll catch up when I get home. From BOISE. With excellent airport stories, for sure. Blessings.

you restore my soul/ and you light my way/ a path of righteousness, for your name’s sake
even though I walk/ through the valley of the shadow/ I am not afraid…
lead me, beside the still waters/ lead me, in the ways that please your heart/
I surrender my will/ I will wait and be still/ I will rest in you and be at peace…

THE GOSPEL OF SUCCESS… try Jesus Christ for 90 days… satisfaction guaranteed or your money back…

YESTERDAY FOUND ME, of all places, in Seattle at a motivational conference. My boss, slightly cynical, but curious, offered to take our law office. Realizing that a long day in Seattle still meant a ferry ride and a day in the city away from my desk, I agreed to go. I’m still trying to figure out if what I heard was good for me, or a load of word #57. I’m thinking that most of it fell in the latter category.

I did hear some speakers that I enjoyed (Goldie Hawn, Zig Ziglar)… my favorite was Rudy Giuliani speaking on leadership. He’ll be in the history books, and I sat a few hundred feet from him. Was a cool experience, and he was a great speaker. I’d vote for him.

The rest were a conglomeration of slick salespeople and their wives, annoying 40-year-old valley girls in big hair and highlighter-hued sequined power suits. I heard a session on the secrets to overnight investment success (the last-revealed secret being that you take a class for the low low cost of $1,000)… a session on spiritual success, complete with a full gospel presentation and the sinners’ prayer… and then a session on real estate investing (another class & book & materials, worth $5,000, but available ALL today, for our special conference attendees, for an investment of $99). The main message: YOU ARE WORTH IT! YOU CAN BE SUCCESSFUL AND MAKE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS, EASY! (if only you’ll try real hard to have a winning attitude… oh, and buy my book). Success = strong family relationships + gobs and gobs of $$$. And being real nice while you’re at it.

In the course of three hours, we were sold investment advice, Jesus, and a real estate class.

I didn’t leave motivated. I left worried about retirement and how I’m going to put my still-fictional children through college. And my choice of vocation seemed quite foolish. Writing? Ridiculous. For a church? Worse. Where’s the security in that?

I knew walking into the Key Arena to take everything with a grain of salt. I was expecting to get a worldly view of success, and was quite surprised when the first speaker talked about the importance of character and integrity and not being relatively honest & faithful, but being completely honest and faithful. I was also impressed with him crediting his faith in God for his successful life, despite his trials. OK so far.

But by the time we reached the “spirituality” session after lunch, I was sick to my stomach. I think I would have rather heard a completely worldly version. I was so saddened to realize what I was hearing was prosperity teaching. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me… including scratching and pecking my way to the top of the corporate ladder. With God, all things are possible… like two summer homes, a boat, and a Lexus SUV… God wants you to be successful, doesn’t He? It bothered me to hear a contortion of the gospel of grace into the gospel of success. If you just try hard enough… you’ll get what’s coming to you. And if you don’t, well, you know who to blame.

[I feel it necessary to say here that I have nothing against Christians who have been blessed with wealth, who use their resources to serve others, rather than serving their money. They’re awesome people whose God-given talents and dedication have taken them far.]

I believe with all my heart that the only way to have a successful life is to live for Christ. But my definition of success is quite a bit different. (Look at Jesus’ life. He wasn’t exactly an example of how to climb to the top. In fact, the three temptations he faced in the desert were temptations toward exactly the kind of success these people were talking about). Where were the verses that paint an honest picture of Christ’s promises: In this world, you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome… The world will hate you because it hated Me first… I will never leave you, nor forsake you…?

Jesus said–whoever wants to follow me has to deny himself, pick up his cross and follow me… My kingdom is not of this world…

Bonhoeffer said– when Jesus calls a man, he bids him come and die.

Beuchner speaks of the two battles we fight – the battle for recognition, for our place in the sun; and the battle to be at peace in our own skins and with God. Of the first battle, he says: “What is the armor to wear in such a war? Not, certainly, the whole armor of God here, but, rather, the whole armor of man, because this is a man’s war against other men. In such a war, perhaps, you wear something like this. Gird your loins with wisdom, the sad wisdom of the world which knows that dog eats dog, that the gods help those who help themselves and charity begins at home. Put on the breastplate of self-confidence because if you have no faith in yourself, if you cannot trust to your own wits, then you will never get anywhere. Let your feet be shod with the gospel of success– the good news that you can get just about anything if you want it badly enough and are willing to fight for it. Above all, take the shield of security because in a perilous world where anything can happen, security is perhaps what you need more than anything else–the security of money in the bank, or a college degree(!!!), or some basic skill that you can always fall back on. And take the helmet of attractiveness or personality and the sword of wit… In the war of conquest, that is to say, in the war that we all wage for a place in the sun, it is the armor of man rather than the armor of God that will serve you best; and although I cannot value that armor as highly as some would value it, I also cannot mock it because the armor of God serves its purpose all too well, and because I wear some of it, and so do you.”

For the most part, these people were attempting to clothe the masses in the wrong armor.

I couldn’t help but wonder as I left the arena, if people would find themselves as disillusioned with Christ as they most likely will be with the investment class or the real estate DVD’s, when, six months later, the big bucks don’t come pouring in. I wonder if they’ll feel like someone pulled a bait-and-switch operation on them… promising easy street and huge material wealth (everything they’ve ever wanted)… when what they really will get is a different kind of wealth (God gives everything they need). The different between want and need is only four little letters, but most people can’t distinguish between the two (myself included, sometimes).

In an arena that size, I know several hearts were opened to God’s love yesterday. I’m glad. My hope and prayer is that God’s spirit will reveal the Truth about his purposes and plans for good, and that somehow they’ll find themselves in a place where that truth is preached. Not “Jesus, AND” of any kind. Not Jesus AND wealth, or Jesus AND success. Just Jesus. Satisfaction guaranteed.

Sog 2004: the photos

Alrighty… here are way too many pics from my trip. But I’ll be gone for a bit, so you’ll have plenty of time to enjoy them. In other news, the law office and I went to a motivational seminar in Seattle today… hilarious. Although I did see Rudy Giuliani, Goldie Hawn & Zig Ziglar speak… that was cool. The rest of them? Hmmm… Interesting how people try to sell get-rich-quick investment advice, Jesus, and real estate investment classes all in one seminar (in that order)… more later.

But for now, I give you: The Sog 2004.

Safety first… how much stuff do three girls need just to go rough it??? Evidently, 3.5 tons.

Um… we kick tail… not bad for pitchblack setup.

J. Love at Mt. Rose trailhead

Jules: 0 Tent pole to the face: 2

Some tunes to love Jesus by

Hiking Mt. Rose

Mrs. Anderson… in a howdy mood.

View from Mt. Rose

staircase trailhead

stacey and tawny

me doing something the icy water will have me regretting in about two seconds…

Aaron (Tawny’s hubby) outdoing me and Steph with a bridge jump.

local wildlife…dirty.

freezing our bums off for the next 24 hours after the jump…

in spite of Tawny’s MacGyvering… this proved it was time to pack up & move out.

seasons… the beauty of the here and now

So my friend Sarah and I were chatting online for a bit last night. Sarah’s older sister Rachel was my closest friend in Bellingham, but Sarah and I were close in our own right. As we talked, she asked if I thought I was moving back up there anytime soon. She was so sweet… I had been feeling slightly forgotten and she spoke directly to my heart things that she loved and missed about me. I told her that I’m open to anything God wants to do, but it’s not looking like any move is in my future right now. I explained that I’ll most likely have a job I love soon writing for a church I love, maybe as early as January. She echoed something my heart has said many times: “I just wish you could do that up here.” Man, how I have agreed.

Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could take the pieces and people we love from different seasons of our life and mush them all together to form one big glorious good time?

I was thinking about our conversation today and I remembered the day I drove home from Bellingham. I remember with perfect clarity the moment I turned right toward the onramp heading south, knowing full well it was the last time I’d leave Bellingham as my home. I was crying so hard I could barely see. My parents and Kev had already come and moved my stuff home and I had stayed an extra few days to finish recording on a worship album with my church up there, and to squeeze the last few moments and memories I could out of the time I had left. I had stayed up late with Rachel and Sarah, goofing off and talking late into the night, daring to deny that heartbreak was just a few short hours away. As I left town, the only way I can describe it is that it was one of those Road Less Traveled moments: Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back…

Sometimes you just know that you’re never going to be able to come back. I wanted to… but I knew better. I knew it would be a while before my body healed up, and perhaps even longer before I could get up the resources to come back. And it broke my heart. I felt like I’d let this trial defeat me, rather than being super-Christian and not letting anything get me down. (I had such beautiful illusions of how I’d bring God glory by overcoming it all…) The six months from September 17 (the wreck) to March 17, the day I moved home, were among the hardest I’d ever experienced. I asked God more why’s than I ever had before… why, God, in the midst of me finally finding a place where I fit — a group of friends to belong to, a church I can serve in, a city I LOVE — why did You allow this NOW? The answer hasn’t been totally revealed, but I know it had something to do with growing my character, and it had something to do with a piece of God’s plan that’s just too good to see yet. I haven’t always had the “it’s all for the best” attitude, it’s taken a while, but I know enough of God to know it’s true. God has blessed me in amazing ways, and is weaving together the pieces of my story in a design that can only be described as miraculous.

Still, it’s honestly gut-wrenchingly hard sometimes. Over a year later, I miss Bellingham. I miss my tiny pink stucco built-in-1925 apartment a few blocks from the University with a view of the bay at sunset, where friends would randomly stop by on their way here-or-there. I miss Stuart’s, the locaI second-hand furniture coffeeshop with live jazz every Tuesday, where I’d go to study, but end up journaling instead. I miss all the hippies (who bear startling resemblances to every picture I’ve ever seen of Jesus). I miss living in an ever-changing college town and I miss the larger pool of people to meet. And by people to meet, I mean, um, some great guys. I miss ultimate frisbee every Sunday at 2. I miss the high priority placed on art and music and self-expression. Most of all, I miss the group of friends I made so many memories with… the worship band I played with… the church who adopted me, even with my tender heart, the second I walked through their doors. I had finally found a place where I fit.

And haven’t known that feeling since I left. Don’t get me wrong, I love it here. I’m growing and happy and working hard at deepening the friendships God has blessed me with. It’s cool to be able to run on over to Mom and Dad’s for dinner whenever I feel like it. I don’t really feel smothered by living in my hometown again. But in Bellingham… I found a different kind of home, one I never knew existed. A home that resonated with so many of the things I found beautiful in the world.

I can idealize all I want, but there’s a reality that still creeps in. If I moved back there tomorrow, I’d probably hate it. I can’t take what was good about two years ago and mush it together with what’s good now, other than in my heart. Things and people are not static, any more than I am. Although Bellingham is still the artsy town I love… it’s not the same, and it’s not home anymore. My ghetto-fabulous apartment has been rented out to someone new, the pastor who mentored me in worship and music has moved on to a new job in another city. My friends have changed too (just like I have). They’ve grown and moved on and done amazing things. I fully expect to hear any day now that my closest friend is engaged to an incredible guy… and although my heart is full of joy for her happiness, the last few times I’ve made the drive for a visit, we’ve awkwardly stumbled over our words, not knowing what to talk about other than fun memories from our past. We’re comfortable because we love each other deeply, but uncomfortable because, for the first time, it’s difficult to find common ground… for any number of reasons, not the least of which is, we live busy lives three hours away from each other.

I know that it’s natural to long for what was good in another season. My memories are precious, and it would be a sad thing for me to attempt to negate their importance or suppress their impact on my heart, even if it brings with it some pain. Any kind of loss is never easy. But if I’m not careful, I can have my gaze fixed backwards so steadily that I miss the blessings God has for me in the here and now. That would be even sadder.

I have the peace of knowing that I threw myself wholeheartedly into my friendships and opportunities in Bellingham. That is what allows me to hold them a bit loosely. Not loosely in the sense that I don’t consider them precious and deeply valuable, but loosely in the sense that I value them for what they were in the past, and still value them for what they are today (even with the changes in depth, communication, common ground… all of it). I hold them loosely and don’t pitch a fit because my friends don’t give me the luxury of staying the same while I change and live and grow.

For the most part, I didn’t miss the important moments… I lived them. Even in the most difficult moments of recuperating, even if it meant I wasn’t even remotely near my best… I lived. I can’t ask for more than that.

There will come a day when I’m asked to leave what I love here as well. If I’ve learned anything about my life, it’s that it is full of change, and mostly when I’m not expecting it. I don’t have guarantees as far as how long any given season is given to me. So I’m attempting to live my season here in such a way that my only regret will be that it ended a bit before I was ready, not that I squandered the moments and friendships I was so generously given.

I’m finally letting myself be at peace with exactly where I’m at in my story. I can tell you, there’s absolutely nothing better. Allow yourself to find your place in your story… and don’t let anything — not your longing for the past, nor your yearning for a yet-unwritten future — don’t let anything cheat you of the beauty of the here and now.

Testing…

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Steph, me, Tawny & Julie (and a few friendly drops on the lens)