I Like Rocks ***elsie challenge***

today, elsie flannigan did a challenge over at creating keepsakes .
the idea was to scrap a page about something you find beautiful . . .
something that is simple and ordinary and everyday.

there are so many things . . .
kids playing on the playground
the flowers in my front yard
the vintage looking label on the brand of coconut milk i buy . . .
my husband's silly smile that he makes after he has made a joke and is waiting for the perfect pause in the conversation to say his next joke . . . .
the beautiful old wooden floors in our home . . .
so many many things . . .

but there is one thing that came to mind front and center -
(maybe because i had a picture printed and ready to go!?!?!)

the truth is . . .
i really love rocks.
when i go somewhere special, i pick up a rock.
when i am having a hard day, i pick up a rock.
if there is something i want to be sure to remember,
you get it . . .
ROCK!

we have a small and growing menagerie of these memories on our window sill.
there is the flat, round one i picked up one day and sat on the top of my computer at work - i wrote "strength" on it (just as a little reminder that god is my rock and my strength)
then there is the one my sister picked up on a walk back in 2003 over thanksgiving - when we celebrated our last holiday with our beloved aunt sara a few weeks before cancer took her body.
there is the heart shaped one i picked up in hawaii for herb the first time i realized i was in love with him . . .
and the little tiny castle shaped one from our honeymoon that reminded me of the watch towers that dotted the amalfi coast (you know, to protect the city from pirates!?!?!?!)
. . . our most recent addition is the two small white shiny stones we gave to each other during a ritual at the marriage conference this weekend.
it is my version of a modern day karin (not so sure of the spelling on this one)
the way i understand it, "karin" is the irish practice of stacking stones to mark a special moment or place or time.
ancients used to collect and stack rocks when they found some sort of victory.
the isrealites used to pick up a stone when god showed himself faithful . . .
then when they started to wonder where he was again . . .

(and i understand this can happen from time to time
when a three day trip ends up taking 40 years
and your god may or may not show up
in the form of a cloud, a bush, or an ass.)

. . . they would just pull out their rock and remember his faithfulness,
trusting that he will indeed be faithful again.
personally, if i was living a nomadic lifestyle, i am not so sure that my first thought would be "rock!"
but hey, they where under a lot of stress . . .

so, there you go.
a little random tidbit about what makes me tick.
rocks.
they remind me to god's faithfulness,
things i am thankful for,
and things i hope for.

I Am An Orphan Girl

My hope is that this pursuit of Advent's meaning can become an open conversation . . . whoever you are, if you read this blog, throw in your two cents. Let's explore this together.

Todays Song . . . .

We all have a wandering place inside. It is in our souls. It has become a part of our DNA, even, I think. Really. I think that somehow, if it is possible, the results of sin (a spiritual reality) have influenced and changed our physical reality. I know this is not a new thought - but it still just kind of mesmerizes me! We are so intertwined - body, mind, and spirit. Those guys at the YMCA really knew what they were talking about!

That wandering place is different for everyone . . . but it all goes back to "the big apple caper" that I talked about yesterday. Let's not blame Eve . . . . if she didn't do it, I am sure you or I would have. That must have been SOME apple . . . no, that was some lie that she believed! She believed that God didn't really loved her - that he was not setting limits to protect her, but rather to deceive her. Oi! So she bit in . . . and now there is a breech between Him and us.

And so we wander.

Like Jacob and his tribe.

Like Moses and his stragglers.

We wander.

Even though we are connected . . . to others. Even, now, connected to God again . . .

We wander.

As we walk into these first days of Advent, I think it is only right to get in touch with that wandering side of ourselves.

The Israelites, after they entered the Promised Land, still had to wait about 400 years before the promised King would arrive. They anticipated. They yearned.
And they had been yearning for generations.
That is an entire lineage - generation upon generation - of wandering and wondering and yearning and even some disappointment.

And just like disease has found its way into human DNA, I believe that after all of those years of feeling unconnected and unfulfilled . . . first in Egypt, then the desert, and finally "safe" but waiting for a king . . . a wandering heart and a constant feeling of being lost has also made its way into our physical makeup.

So, let's not skip ahead to the elation of longing being fulfilled that comes on December 25 . . .

I think we can really appreciate his arrival more if we first get in touch with how much we long for him.

We won't know the impact of his redeeming qualities if we are not aware of what it is that needs to be redeemed.

And now, the creative therapist in me gets to ask some questions . . .

* Imagine that your "wandering orphan" lives in a part of your body. Where would your orphan be? What color are the walls there? What does the temperature feel like? What does it look like? Is there a smell? Any sound?

* What is your wanderer looking for? How would your wanderer know they have found what they are looking for?

Before I leave you with the song. . .
I found this website yesterday . . . looks like they might be writing a weekly advent meditation.
(jennifer, is this where you went to church in nashville????)


Orphan Girl
I am not sure who wrote this . . . it is sung by Gillian Welch and Emmylou Harris . . . . and others, I am sure.
I suggest you find this on iTunes . . . it is good to hear the aching in these ladies voices.

I am an orphan on God's highway
But I'll share my troubles if you go my way
I have no mother no father
No sister no brother
I am an orphan girl

I have had friendships pure and golden
But the ties of kinship I have not known them
I know no mother no father
No sister no brother
I am an orphan girl

But when He calls me I will be able
To meet my family at God's table
I'll meet my mother my father
My sister my brother
No more orphan girl

Blessed Savior make me willing
And walk beside me until I'm with them
Be my mother my father
My sister my brother
I am an orphan girl

Days of Anticipation

"And do this, understanding the present time. The hour has come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy. Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature."

Today is the first day of Advent.
Growing up this meant that the songs we sang in choir at church began to change.
It meant that at some point, our family would probably be asked to walk an embarrassing, long walk down the long red carpeted aisle of our 100 year old Presbyterian church; one of us, probably my dad (he is the man, after all) or me (I was the one who enjoyed the sound of her own voice) would read a passage from the Bible.
Then one of us, probably my brother (because he was little and cute), would reach up to the elaborate brass candelabra and light a candle. White or purple, depending on the week we were asked to participate.

Advent, they say, is a time of preparation.
The only preparation I took part in during this season was making sure my lipstick matched my tight red sweater.

As the trees loose their leaves and the sun peaks later and sets earlier, they serve as vivid symbols of what happened with Israel before Christ was born.
Quite literally, there was famine and war, due to the lack of a king.
Life was sparse
and dark
and lifeless.
There was a yearning for more.
Much more.

In my soul,
and maybe yours,
there is also famine and war.
It is colder.
Darker.
Much more stark than other times in my life.

And so I find great hope in the promise of this advent season.
Maybe hope like Israel found when they heard that after hundreds (400, I think) of years of leaderless war, that a the promised king might finally be arriving.

It is a time in my life . . . as it was for Israel . . . that is filled with anticipation
wonder
desire
and perhaps a little fear.

What if the king is not coming?
And if he does,
what if he can't help us?

In the end, we find out that it is a bastard baby child that is the promised king.
Not quite what they were hoping for.
And then, later he rides into town on an ass . . . just like the ones he was born amongst . . .
instead of the white horse that a king would ride . . .
and then to top it all off, he gets killed.
Well, not just killed.
Crucified.
The death that is saved for the most vile of criminals.
Super.
Kind of sounds like a trifecta of disappointment and even more despair.
Turns out, it actually is not.
This God of ours has a wild imagination and He gets his work done in the most interesting of ways.
After all, He IS the Creator . . . an artist . . .
and us creative types tend to be a little reckless and unconventional in getting to our intended destination.

But we are not there yet.
Let's not skip ahead.

Right now, we are in a season of promise.
We don't know what is to come . . .
But we hope.
We anticipate.

Things are darker . . . quite literally, as our sun comes for such short visits these days . . .
and for some of us, things are darker inside.
Death.
Disease.
Disappointment.
Depression.

And as we are surrounded by stark darkness, we hear a quiet promise . . .

Things are about to change.
A Savior is coming.
THE Savior is coming.

Here was stand, surrounded by darkness . . .
Yet, we can, should we choose,

anticipate . . .
wait for . . .
watch for . . .

a bright, abundant source of light and life.

Today, should you choose, think about a way you might choose to participate . . .
to daily hope and watch . . .
during this time of waiting.
This time of watching.
Should you need ideas, let me know.
I have a few.

For me . . .

I have a few books stashed here and there.

And I am going to go find a few Paperwhite bulbs today to plant . . .
in rocks . . .
to remind me that life can come even in the most desolate of environments.
And I am going to watch those ugly bulbs everyday . . .
and see what they might do.
I am going to plant them in a glass container so I can watch their roots begin to grow.
Anticipating,
believing,
that they will in fact . . .
come to life.
No, they . . .
we . . .
ARE alive here and now . . .
we just don't appear that way.
We just don't feel that way.
Instead, we hope they (and we)
will bloom.

I also have the desire to put a big old piece of butcher paper up on a closet door for doodling and writing words and verses that stand out during this season of anticipation.
Have not passed that one by Herbie yet . . .
we'll see how he feels about having a collage on the front closet door!

And, finally, I am going to try . . .
to write in this blog daily throughout Advent.
About what I see as I wait.

How do you think you might posture yourself during this time of waiting for the Christ child?

It might be easy.
Your life might be dark and dizzy and volatile.
So, the promise of a peacemaking king might make perfect sense to you.

But maybe you are enjoying life.
Maybe things are easy and breezy.
How nice for you!
And if they are, what might you do to listen to that voice deep inside,
quiet as it may be right now,
that says,
"I need a Savior"?

Marriage: A Tool for the Depraved? VOL. 7

Herb posted this on the comment section of my last post this morning. But I think we should let him have his own forum to share his thoughts . . . so here's herb!

I'll have to steal Cara's blog space since I have yet to plunk down the time and energy of setting up one for myself! :)
I just wanted to share an exchange with my doctor a couple of months ago. I see him every month, so he keeps tabs on most of the goings-on in my life. He started by asked how my stress level was...

Me: Fine. Nothing to big... just relationship stuff, you know.
Dr: Oh, how's that?
Me: You know, just the roller coaster ride of marriage (being ambigious, hoping he would drop it)
Dr: (Not one to drop things) Oh... well, how big are the dips and hills on your coaster ride?
Me: Well, they've been pretty high and pretty low at times.
Dr: What are YOU doing? (He's been married 25 years or so, he will always assume I am the cause!)
Me: Well... you know we have over 50 years of combined selfishness we are trying to work through and it's been really tough at times.
Dr: {laughing} You should have that posted above your front door like McDonalds. "Over 50 years of selfishness!"
Me: {Laughing with him now} Oh, and then we just count down for every year we take off?
Dr: No, underneath that, you start counting how many years of selfLESSness you guys have together.
Me: yeah... (That's about all I can usually muster up when presented with such clear wisdom).

We'll never erase the selfishness, but we don't have to be tied to our past. Identify it and move in a new direction... together. To quote RENT, "Forget regret or life is yours to miss. No other road, no other way, no day but today. There's only now, there's only here, give in to love, or live in fear."