weeds.

So we bought a house. We = the amazing man I married and myself. I sort of (obviously) abandoned this blog spot a while ago. I'm not really sure what or what happened, but for the sake of avoiding unnecessary dramatics, let's just assume it was for a very dull reason. This little diddy felt inspired, and so I'm deciding to log it somehow. At one time I got overwhelmed with the thought of trying to chronicle every significant moment/thought/musing, which made the thought of writing one simple post all the more uninteresting. Maybe that's why I've neglected this page. Nonetheless, here I am, living in acceptance that there's no need to obsess about capturing every profound moment, trusting that there is One who holds all of my special moments, and that when time and space permit I'm going to jot them down because it's fun. It's a rhythm of health for me I think. 

Back to the original thought - we bought a house. One of the things I'm becoming very acquainted with is weeds. Weeds in the existing garden beds, weeds in cracks between the sidewalks, weeds in the gravel driveway. I'm not sure I considered weeds as a part of homeownership when we signed on all of the dotted lines. I have been looking forward to this weekend as I feel like we have not had a free weekend for the past 8 weeks, and wanted to do absolutely nothing today except maybe binge watch shows that John wouldn't understand (i.e. Sister Wives). However I decided to hunt and kill weeds this afternoon. 

As I was crouching and bending over, aware that passing cars were getting a nice view of my rear end pointed directly at the sky, I started to have some thoughts about the various kids of weeds I was affectionately calling "little b****es." My self talk went something like this: "Remember when you and your clients would talk about their naughty behaviors like weeds? And how you can't just mow over weeds, you actually have to dig them up from the roots? And how they didn't really get what you were saying? Maybe you should have taken them to some actual weeds and given them a lawnmower. That would have been cool. Oh hey you're not really pulling the weeds out from the roots, you're just pulling the ugly leaves off. You know those little weed roots you're leaving in the ground are just going to sprout up again, like, tomorrow." Because guess what, weeds are annoying and it's so much easier to cheat.... at first. Cheat. And then I started thinking about sin. My sin. The sin of the world. I started to think about how all my experiences within 30 minutes of weeding related in some way to sin. 

I think the Lord wants me to know that my thoughts that feel special are really not my special thoughts, they are His sweet, tender words being whispered to me in something as mundane as weeding. I'm pretty sure this is the case because pretty immediately I had the thought of, "this isn't a new concept - I'd imagine that gardeners from every time and place have had the same idea." I imagined people weeding and having a shared experience of God teaching them about sin via weeds while crouching low in their gardens, fields, gravel driveways. 

I wore a pair of gloves because some of the weeds are stupid and have dumb thorny things on them which makes it harder to get my hands on them and pull them out. And if they get on my skin, it itches. Some sin is like that. It is so gnarly that I don't even want to get close to it. I'd rather let the roots get deeper, convincing myself that I don't really care about how it looks, and other people have them too, and it's just not worth how it's going to feel to really get after it.

Some weeds come out really easily, especially if I isolated them from the gravel or other plants that had started to grow over them. The roots were shallow and loose, just maybe a little hidden. Some sins are like that. Fairly clean removal once we've defined the parameters. Quick gratification when they are uprooted. And yet annoying because they seem to be the most pervasive, less constrained or held in one compartment or another, but all over, everywhere you look. 

A couple weeks ago John pointed out a weed that I determined was not a weed. And then a week later I decided I agreed with his diagnosis, and had twice the work to remove them than if I had considered his perspective in the beginning. This is all a too familiar parallel to marriage, as I am discovering. Don't get married unless you are ready for someone to point out all of your weeds, especially the ones you've convinced yourself are not weeds.

What about working the analogy the other way? Starting with how we deal with sin and applying that to weeds in our yards? What if someone actually started to consciously, willingly, deliberately plant weeds? What if I went and found a weed somewhere, brought it home to plant, looked over at John and said, "No, honey, I got it. Trust me. We want these weeds here." And what if I tried to then protect the weeds and make sure no one (John) tried to get rid of them? I'm open to some pretty off the wall things, but this would be legitimately dumb, and borderline crazy. Who would KNOWINGLY plan actual weeds on their property? A fool.

So why then do we plant our sin, try to tell God we've got it under control, and protect it from Him? Because we do. God becomes a threat to our sin. The thought of actually watching someone plant a weed in their yard stirs up what feels like panic and urgency. "Get that thing out of here. Get it off your lawn. Oh my gosh. You're going to plant it. Do you know how much work that is going to be when you come to your senses and the roots have gotten deeper and grabbed more earth and are more an actual part of your yard?"

I kid you not, last week John and I were weeding and I was so over it that I told myself, "I'll just wait until these little weeds get bigger. Then they will be easier to pull." Not really a big deal when it comes to weeds, but what about the sins that seem small that I avoid? That's essentially what I'm saying when I neglect to address them in the moment. "Eh, it's ok that I was just really critical of my husband... I'll just wait to deal with it when it's a BIGGER issue and more obviously a problem." Yikes. No. Hell no. Let me be present enough and wise enough to pull those baby weeds out when I see them. When John sees them. Let me have the foresight to address things when they are still small, shallow-rooted, and can be dealt with in one single pluck from loose dirt.

It is probably one of the most exhausting and distasteful things, having your sin exposed all the time, knowing there are so many weeds to pull, driveways to maintain. This afternoon when I decided I was done for the time being, I felt like God was saying, "yeah, time to be done. Get inside and rest. You can only do so much weeding in an afternoon. Just like your sin too, Leigh Anne. Don't deny that it's there, and also let go of trying to deal with every single blemish and imperfection. You're human. You're not going to be able to do it. This is a yard. There are weeds. The goal is perfection. It's not even about a goal. It's about doing what you can, and accepting that it's never going to be perfect."

It gets harder to relax into this rhythm when we ignore/deny/hide sin and the roots get deeper and stronger. But if we are letting God reveal our sin to us, and surrendering it to Him as it comes, we get to rest in His grace, knowing that as long as we are tuned into him and giving Him full access to ourselves, we are good. We can rest. We can let it be what it is. He knows our frame. He knows the weeds are just a part of living this side of Eden's walls.

And that's it. Time for Sister Wives.

{ take my hands and let them move at the impulse of thy love, at the impulse of thy love }

I had to write this down.

First - the back story:
I don't remember when exactly it was, but a few weeks back I woke up one morning with the enemy's heavy lies draped over my shoulders. I don't usually invite people into these moments of personal weakness because of my pride and justifications such as, "I can't be late for work," when in fact I'm late for work almost every day and I don't think twice about it.

But I went upstairs to see Angel. That's her name. That's the role it seems that she has played in my life,  amongst other way more important things like music-video-maker. She has a way with words and can articulate things that I cant. She also can see my blindspots and does not shy away from exposing them to me.

I think that morning I just started by talking about something inconsequential and lingered because I still wasn't sure I was going to ask her. And then I did. I asked her to pray for me. This lady is so intuitive to people and sensitive to others so I wasn't surprised when the words of her prayer seemed to come straight out of my little soul. I have been struck by a scene that seemed to be painted in my head as she prayed.

"God, we know Leigh Anne strives so hard because she wants to please you... sometimes we just want to stand before you and pull all of our sin off, but no matter how hard we try we can't claw all of our flesh off."

I pictured that. Me standing before God, enthusiastically clawing off my flesh saying, "see God? I know how bad I am and I'm getting it off! I hate it more than you do and I'm going to be sure there's not a speck of it left so you don't have to see it!" But no matter how fast I move or deep I claw, my flesh is still there.

And then I felt my capacity for knowing God and his mercy get deeper and wider. This was a personal gospel - God has submitted himself to me, a willful sinner, by sending his Son to die for me. Yes, because of His atonement, I have access to his peace and hope and joy and forgiveness and wisdom and blessing and healing and all the other things that now seem like symptoms of a much more significant reality - God came and redeemed me to himself so that I would be free from my self-imposed torture of condemnation and self-appointed mission for perfection, and creating a state of grace to protect me from the wrath of God and having to experience his absence.

That was a few weeks ago. Today I woke up with that familiar heaviness. The lies. The vulnerability. The insecurity. The awareness of my existential loneliness. The weather was kind of perfect. The clouds and the cold paralleled the still coldness I was experiencing internally. It wasn't all negative- I noticed a contentedness that was deeper than the ache. The contentedness grew to peace as I mentally placed myself in the middle of what I can only describe as a grace bubble. The words playing in my head were such a contrast to my old mental tapes that were full of shoulds and shame and condemnation and demands. Instead I thought about God's grace and how it feels like an impenetrable force field all around me. I remember again something my dear friend Becca told me once: "Leigh Anne, you can't be your own grace." It's almost like the grace forcefield protects those around me from my sin - something I have tried to manage by myself. God's grace can not be reproduced or manufactured. It already exists and acts as this loving layer between me and the world. I am protected from messages of hopelessness and worthlessness. The sin and darkness that leak - and sometimes shoot out of me like water out of a firehose - is mediated by God's perfect grace.

I was driving home from my last session when Kari Jobe's version of "Take My Life" came on. I played it again. And again. And again. And then I cried. Just a little. God's heart for me frees me from my crucifixion of my soul. I started to think of God as this loving figure that abandoned all of his plans for the day just to follow me around, to just be with me. To let me be. To remind me of my value as His child. To invite me to sit in His delight... of me.

I cried a little more and called my dad. He and I have worked through some stuff, as he would tell you himself. I wanted him to know the connection I had just made. Maybe not, but maybe one of the reasons I could experience being romanced by God today was because my dad has shown me what that feels like. I thought of going to daddy-daughter dances and being so aware that no one else had a daddy like mine, but I wished they did. I remembered him taking me to Big Boy for a strawberry waffle before school, just because (and without the others). I thought of all the voicemails I've saved when he's called just to tell me I'm on his mind. I thought of countless conversations where I more so talked at him about something I was ruminating on, and he invited me to let go and laugh at my humanity rather than attempt to manage it. I thought of him flying to Denver to respond to my asking for him to come be with me.

I ended up leaving him a blubbery voicemail, which is maybe better. Maybe he can save it for the days that he's in his own shame zone. I hung up the phone and cried a little deeper. But it wasn't sadness, it was a response. It wasn't about my dad and feeling some sort of healing of old wounds- which would have seemed like a reasonable explanation. The Kari Jobe song was still playing on repeat. I heard the words, "take my hands and let them move at the impulse of my love," and I felt like I had written those words myself - I felt my soul responding to a new awareness of God's pursuit of me and his perfect peace.

All of the little souls and minds I was with today came to my mind. It seemed that God had been with me all day, in all the conversations, in all my travel, in all the interactions. It was just like my dad had come and attended to my heart with his gentle strength except to the nth degree. "Let them move at the impulse of Thy love, at the impulse of Thy love." When I am existing out of the truth of God's unrelenting love for me, I can only respond with humility and gratitude and awe. My mind and heart move intuitively and instinctually at the impulse of God's covenanting love that has saved me from myself. Without hesitation, I barge into the dark corners of the world.

And then I thought of my hands and the image of me clawing myself to shreds in an attempt to please God and pay penance for a inadequacy that will always be. It's not until we allow ourselves to believe and trust what seems to be the impossible - that we are fully embraced by God - that we are able to respond without striving; to instead embrace our souls as God as done so that we can then embrace the souls of the world that have deemed anything but embracable.

Valley of the Shadow, by Thomas Newman

There's something about this song that gets to me. My sister Caroline and I tease each other once in a while by way of this particular tune ... because it makes us cry ... every time ... without fail, even if we are laughing in the same breath.

It is only about two minutes in its entirety. These two minutes feel like an eternity to me. Maybe it is more accurate to say that these two minutes acknowledge the depth and richness and tragedy and beauty and fullness and mystery and tenderness and pain and doubt and fear and honesty and surrender and peace and hope that could only fit into an eternity and have somehow managed to flood my soul today.

Caroline, Andrea, and I first heard this song on a movie we all have a love/hate relationship with: The Little Women. I think my sisters and I are moved by the story and journey of the sisters. I think we also are hesitant with the movie because it does capture themes - of both joy and sorrow - that almost feel too rich and powerful to hold. I think my sisters and I may be particularly tuned in to this movie because it echoes, albeit faintly, our love for and experience of each other. I think the first few times I watched the movie I was offended by how much my little heart-soul began to pound in my chest - when when Jo and Meg have to wear scraps to a ball, when Jo refuses Laurie, when Jo cuts her hair, when Papa comes home, when Beth cries with the impoverished family she takes food to, when Laurie refuses Jo, when Jo chases after the professor in the rain.

This particular song and the scene it dictates have tended to hollow me out more than the others. It's the part when, without words, the silent story teller lets the audience know that sweet Beth is no longer with her sisters. The nanny is walking around a freshly made bed that the viewer knows is Beth's, and she is tearing roses - more vigorously than the softness of the song would predict - and she is spreading the chunky petals over the place that Beth let out her last exhale. I remember seeing the movie for the first time and feeling overwhelmed, but too afraid to break the silence. I remember the lump in my throat that seemed to slowly inflate as Beth's absence became more real.

This morning I got a phone call that I can't say I wasn't anticipating. However anticipation is not synonymous with preparedness ... or acceptance ... or even peace. My sweet, beautiful, strong, tenacious, intelligent, faithful, nurturing, wise, faithful Aunt Paula walked down a heavenly aisle to meet her Jesus. My Aunt Paula celebrated her 40th wedding anniversary with her earthly bridegroom, the man I know as my Uncle Gene, just as we got the news that she was preparing to meet THE bridegroom, the one she has put her faith in consistently through all the losses and riches she has experienced. I believe on a theological/intellectual level that marriage is intended to be a symbol of Jesus's love for and covenant to the Church. I am struck by the timeline of the final days of my Aunt Paula's time with us on earth - it is as if God spoke to the family through time, a construct he is too big to fit into, to whisper that a place has been prepared for Aunt Paula ... that she is the most beautiful bride, and he is ready to be next to her proclaiming his covenant to her... that he can't wait one more second to be hers and for her to be his. Yes ... I feel the deep agonizing ache of her absence. I feel an even deeper, though maybe fainter, hope that is rooted in a sense that maybe, just maybe, Aunt Paula's life this side of heaven was preparation work to get her ready for her big day when she got to walk down the most perfect aisle to meet her most perfect Lord.

This Thomas Newman song is one that rarely ceases to penetrate to the deepest of the deep places in my heart, even when I've spent lots of time and energy trying to seal up any vulnerability. There's a reason I chose to play it this evening as I continue to engage in the process of grieving the earthly loss of my Aunt Paula as well as celebrate her entrance into the most miraculous eternity. And there's something different about listening to it this time, as if I have an extra ear that can assimilate a whole new bellowing voice of the tune. Maybe the aching I feel in my gut is actually my soul expanding ... and listening to the song on an empty soul-gut is that much more satisfying because I'm hungry for everything the song is trying to tell me - that my Aunt Paula is the most beautiful bride, and that all that I hope and trust is true and real about God and Jesus and the Gospel and mercy and love and freedom and joy and hope is real. Realer than what we all think is real on earth. Maybe there is something that is actually truer than the truest earthly touch of someone's hand. Maybe there is something that is truer than the truest experience of earthly love. Maybe God really did send Jesus to earth, while we were yet sinners - i.e. giving God the finger - to woo us, to bring us home to him, to be his bride, so that we could be free of all the chains and aches and sorrows, so that we could know the experience of being fully known and fully loved ... for eternity. So that we could experience safety and freedom and hope and joy and peace even in the midst or aftermath of the most overwhelming and overpowering waves of grief and pain.

Andrea, Caroline, Dusty - I love you. I'm so thankful for my sisters and brother ... my journey-mates.
Dad - I love you. Thank you for living this. Until I have an earthly groom of my own, you're my primary reminder that God pursues me on a level that can't always be felt or sensed. What a gift.
Grandma Sally - I love you. You are a warrior. What an honor to pray with you. What a deeper honor to watch the quiet way you continue to choose to trust God ruthlessly ... beyond anything I've seen.
Mom, Chip - I love you. I'm with you. I don't have words, only belief that you are your beloved's, and he is yours. I'm eager to be next to you, in hopes that my physical presence can somehow say what I cannot.
Ben, Charlie, Trischa, Amy, Jake - I can't help but wish there was a way for me to take some of the burden from each of you. Maybe I can by grieving/celebrating with you. Or maybe it is more than enough to tell you and show you that I love you.
Gene - I love you. Your understated-ness seems quite the contrary to the fierceness with which you love your earthly bride and your children. I am in awe of the miracle you seem to radiate - the miracle of a love that can only come from your rootedness in your identity as God's very own.

Paula - I'm a feeler, and I feel your absence already. I think I might always feel the burden of that. And yet ... I'm positive that I'll always feel deeply and humbly and passionately grateful for your reminder to me that this is not the end ... that this time on earth is brief compared to what we are preparing for. I have been playing hard-to-get with God as of late. I've been making myself unavailable to him - at times blaming it on his intolerance of my faults - when really I think I've just been afraid. I think I've been afraid to enter into that secret garden of vulnerability with him, where I must stand before God without trying to hide, where I must trust that he has already seen my worst and has chosen me for all that he has created me to be, where the truest and safest and richest and most inspiring intimacy exists. Do I want to be a bride in the earthly sense? Of course. But that is all just a glimpse...just a taste of what God is inviting me to. You teach me that. Oh, and you are the most beautiful bride I've seen.

Lord - yes.

{ i need you to soften my heart }

A word keeps coming up in my life, which has made me wonder if I should unpack it a little... give it some attention. I've known people who say that God puts words on their hearts - for themselves and for others. I've never (that I know of) experienced God in that particular way, but I think it is quite possible that he could be trying to get my attention ... lately ... with a word.

Depleted. 

Spent. Exhausted. Zombie. Vacant. 

I don't enjoy living depleted - running on fumes, never really feeling like I'm caught up on rest, scraping what feels like the bottom of a voided emotional barrel for something to contribute/give/share for the sake of connection/relationship/service. The worst part might be when I start to resent people who need from me. And I'm talking about people that are valid in their needing. Their agendas for me aren't wrong or out of place or presumptuous or abusive. Many of them I'm :: paid :: to be present to. It is my responsibility to be available. That might be the worst part because my state of depletedness is very real ... and so is the request of their hearts ... which results in a very real sense of guilt. A case of the shoulds. Feeling completely incapable of fulfilling a call and a responsibility. Nagging anxiety that I can't do it. 

And that's not to mention all the non-work related pieces of life. 

I'm not sure how others maintain, how they make it work (because I'm not naive enough to think I'm the only one). I'm learning that at least one of the results of depletion in my life is a toughness of my heart. I don't mean strength ... I mean resistance.

Resistance to be obedient, resistance to emotion, resistance to rest, resistance to submission, resistance to vulnerability, resistance to give, resistance to receive. The loss of tenderness. 

When I think of the woman that I want to be - the woman that I'm believing God has MADE me to be, CALLED me to be - she is TENDER. She is tuned in to her heart, God's spirit, and those around her. Truth moves her. She is responsive because the tenderness of her heart enables her to be that way. She lives free. Her boldness and grace are balanced and inform the other, resulting in an availability to life and people and God. A life poured out to others does not feel like an inconvenience ... it is the deepest longing of her soul. Her tenderness blooms in humility, repentance, and a deep understanding of her sin which cultivates a rich experience of God's mercy and romancing of her heart. She is more prone to centeredness. Her tender heart isn't perfect, nor is it rescued from feeling like God is far away. In fact, it might feel his absence all the more, because it isn't numb. But I think her tender heart might then have the opportunity to learn God's heart from a much deeper place : where is he when I feel like he has left, and how much more profound my faith must be to sustain feelings of abandonment and fear? 

Today I got my butt into church. We sang these words. And I felt myself melting just a little. 

I need you to soften my heart

to break me apart.

I need you to open my eyes

to see that you're shaping my life.

All I am, 

I surrender. 

Give me faith to trust what you say

that you're good and your love is great. 

I'm broken inside, I give you my life. 

And from a state of depletion, I echo Francois Fenelon's prayer:

"Lord, I know not what I ought to ask of thee; thou only knowest what I need .... I simply present myself before thee, I open my heart to thee. Behold my needs which I know not myself. Smite, or heal; depress me, or raise me up; I adore all thy purposes without knowing them; I am silent; I offer myself in sacrifice; I yield myself to thee; I would have no other desire than to accomplish thy Will. Teach me to pray. Pray thyself in me. Amen." 

And make me tender. 

:: i've seen rain fall on the wicked and the just ::

It makes sense that the older one gets, the more they tend to learn about who they are - what they like, what they don't like, how they are likely to respond to various scenarios, the kind of person they want to be, the kind of people they want to be around, blah blah blah. Anyone who has learned anything about the psychology of development understands that this is one of the hallmarks of being a 20 something (generally speaking). It makes sense. 

I'm learning that I love for things to make sense. Anxiety tends to accelerate and exaggerate itself when things resist me and refuse to be made sense of, or when things that once were resolved and whole and neat start to unresolve without my permission. When what was once sense becomes non-sense. 

On the one hand, my love for/ pursuit of an understanding of how things connect/relate makes me really good at what I do. I'm a detective of the human soul and story. What was it like to grow up as you? What is it like to be in your body, have your brain, and face your future? What is it like to be in relationship with you? What need does that behavior meet for you? What is threatened when you no longer are able to cope in those old ways? Some of my favorite therapeutic moments are when it seems that by the grace of God, for one moment, I get it. And that kid gets that I get it. I'm guessing that most of us have those moments- when you realize that you are understood- that your story makes sense to someone else- that maybe you have been existing out of the premise that nothing about you can be made sense of- that you are one big ball of unresolved questions/hopes/hurts/fears. To that I say, "Thank you Father. Thank you for equipping me to care about the whole story of a person, and the whole of their soul. Thank you for putting it in my DNA to be sensitive to the nuances, to be intuitive to complexity."

And then there's the part of that search for sense that is distorted. That is defiant. That works hard to force things into a resolution. That is more about my need for resolve than anything else. That makes it easy to give God the silent treatment for letting it stay non-sensical. How dare He. 

I think I'm starting to pick up on cues that kids know when I'm more about making sense of their lives than about being with them in the midst of the chaos. When I'm more about my agenda for resolution than about listening...being with...empowering...understanding. How invalidating it must feel in those moments when all they want is for me to sit and acknowledge that their situation is a mess. That their parents suck, and yet don't suck at the same time. That they were victimized at one point, and need to be accountable for victimizing others. That they have committed a serious offense that has wounded the deepest deep of not just one, but many souls... and that they are not defined by their offense- that there is hope, healing, restoration, forgiveness waiting for them. 

I feel one of the heaviest discrepancies I have ever experienced in my entire life sitting with these kids. The overwhelming clarity and magnitude of the darkness is devastating. It is my JOB to remember the victim at all times- to read their statements, to watch their forensic interviews, to advocate for their justice. It is just as much my job to sit with the offender and be all about their victory... to connect with them and enjoy them and aquatint them with their most enjoyable self, to draw out and capitalize on their resiliency. Some days I feel torn in two. I get to go home, to a world that makes a bit more sense. These kids and their families do not. 

If I didn't know Jesus, if I wasn't ultimately surrendered at the foot of His cross, I'm not sure I could deal with all the non-sense. A few months ago I was talking with one of my favorite older ladies, and she said something that has been one of the most pivotal moments in my search for sense. She said something along the lines of, "Leigh Anne, you're trying to reconcile these realities... and it's not happening. You need to take them to the foot of the cross and say, 'Jesus... I can't make this fit. I surrender my efforts.'" 

The message was this: in my flesh and humanity, my efforts and abilities to come up with a clear understanding of whats/whys/hows fall short. This side of heaven, I have to deal with the lack of sense. I have to sit with unresolve. But I don't have to hold it alone. In fact, I CAN'T hold it alone. It is one of those truths that sends me right back to Jesus. In him, in his depth-breadth-glory, there is space for allllllllllllllll the things that do not make sense. He has space for complete non-sense that a kid is both precious and sexually deviant. He has space for the unbelievable challenge of being the parent of the victim and the offender. 

This side of heaven, we are limited in our ability to make sense of things. I know the enemy would love for this to be devastating, frightening, exhausting, deflating. I also know that God uses this to draw us to him, to remind us of his mystery, to keep us humbly bound to the promise of his faithfulness and omniscience. 

Recently a new reality is beginning to impress itself upon my heart: the greatest truth about my God is non-sense. It does not make sense that he would forgive me, redeem me, call me his daughter. There is no way that I can make sense of his love, his patience, his grace, his justice, his pursuit, his promise, his availability to me. I have not earned his mercy. I have intimacy with him based on HIS pursuit, not my attractiveness or performance. 

"God is thrust onward by his love, not attracted by our beauty. He comes even in moments when we have done everything wrong, when we have done nothing...when we have sinned." Carlo Carretto 

When I am fixated on sense, (actually, let's call it what it is- when I SERVE sense... when I worship sense), I miss the mystery, I miss the soul- of myself and others, I miss surrender, and I miss the very essence of God's crazy pursuit of me... of my SALVATION. 

I can sense God inviting me to enjoy a humble surrender to him in those moments when the resistance to sense is most uncomfortable- when healing hurts, when there is ending without closure, when once neatly woven life begins to unravel, when I am sitting with a wonderfully complicated kid.... when I am sitting with my wonderfully complicated self. I can sense God asking me to lean into the tension and discomfort. To see it as a reminder of just how ludicrous and amazing and rich His love is. 

I believe in a blessing I don't understand

I've seen rain fall on the wicked and the just

rain is no measure of his faithfulness

he withholds no good thing from us

no good thing from us, no good thing from us

I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain

that broken find healing in love

pain is no measure of his faithfulness

he withholds no good thing from us

no good thing from us, no good thing from us

I will open my hands, will open my heart

I will open my hands, will open my heart

I am nodding an emphatic yes to all that you have for me

I believe in a fountain that will never dry

though I've thirsted and didn't have enough

thirst is no measure of his faithfulness

he withholds no good thing from us

no good thing from us, no good thing from us

S. Groves

:: i love you for sentimental reasons, i hope you do believe me ::

It's like i have been living in an extended exhale.
It wasn't that alarming or uncomfortable or even noticeable at first.
It's different than putting your hand on a hot stove, in which case the senses are immediately alerted by the intensity of the pain, and your finger's pain receptor neurons hurriedly tell your brain to move your hand from the stove.
The slow, deep, elongated exhale actually feels good for a while- it feels like a release of the toxins, it feels like a slowing down of an anxious and rapidly beating heart.
But if one actually stays in the exhale,
well,
one passes out.
I wonder what actually happens physiologically when that happens.
Is passing out the body's way of trying to get itself to breathe in again? Of saying, "hey, stop it. i want some o2"
Whatever it is that happens isn't my point.
My point is just like I said: I feel like I've been living in that extended exhale... in the depletion of oxygen... in the slow numbing of the senses... in the dangerous delay of my heart beat.

And then the Lord pulled my slumped shoulders back and lifted my chin with his big fatherly hands and blew sweetness back into my lungs.
And invited me to drink in all that he has for me, to be fully present to every breath, to inhale just as deeply as I exhale.

I left job 1 today and got to job 2 with plenty of time to spare. I had my book, but it felt wrong to read for pleasure at work. Not because it would be violating work boundaries, but because it would be violating the preciousness of reading for pleasure. Needless to say, I didn't read. Instead, I went into a small prayer room located at job 2. I had come to the room before when I had some extra time, to either pray or finish a phone conversation with one of my sisters. This time I noticed two women in one corner. I couldn't hear what they were talking about, but there was something about sitting in that room and hearing the softness of their voices that was peaceful. It might have spoken to the same part of me that has always had an easier time falling asleep to the sound of someone (typing, talking, reading). I think it also has to do with living in the rhythm of exhale-inhale... deep breaths out followed by deep breaths in. The result is this warm buzzing in my soul. It's the kind of feeling I used to only be able to experience when being around people who held the warm humming of peace in their own hearts. Today I felt it in me, and it felt like taking in a breath from heaven.

On my drive home, I plugged my iPod into my car radio and this pleasant little Nat King Cole melody started to play. I'm not sure why, because earlier in the day I was listening from a completely different playlist. One of my favorite weather things was happening too: I could see the dirty gray rain clouds rain down in front of the pale yellow dusky sky against the backdrop of the mountains. There's just enough light to not need your car lights, and the rain clouds almost seem like a canopy, holding in the cozy of the evening. And I thought for a moment that maybe what I was feeling and experiencing was from the Lord... that it was a picture of his invitation to me to drink in all that he has for me.

"Leigh Anne.... I love you for sentimental reasons, I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart. I love you, and you alone were meant for me, please give your loving heart to me, and say we'll never part."

:: what can you do with a heavy soul? ::

Part of me hesitates to be so bold on a holiday so that I can avoid being that person who is the ultimate debbie-downer and self-focused enough that she can't see the inappropriateness of trumpeting her private doom and gloom. But that's only a part of me.

Most of me knows that's not what I'm doing. The counselor in me knows that the holidays are saturated with sad things: break-ups, relapses, poverty, suicides. I can think of countless faces and names that represent real pain, real trauma, real disappointment. Maybe by being honest about my own heavy soul will help others come out of hiding, because we know that in hiding, the gloom doesn't get exposed to the light... which is true and warm and rich and transforming.

I was looking forward to having some time to myself this week. I was viewing it as a precious stay-cation where I could read some good books by the fire, watch movies while sitting in a cocoon of a down comforter, walk to local restaurants with friends for happy hour, do some serious laundry, put on an apron and do some canning, entertain some people at least for one night, have a sleepover, watch the parade, spend some sweet time just me and the Lord. Truth be told, I have done a fair amount of the things on my list.

After staying up way too late watching Big Bang Theory (shout out Dad and Michael Stark), I stumbled out of bed at 6:50 so I could watch Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I feel asleep about 40 minutes in, and woke up right as the hosts were signing off. My first thought was, "dang it. I missed Santa." Even typing that makes me laugh a little to myself. Oh well, on to the next thing: fire-side e-mailing. So and so likes your pin, pay $50 for $100 worth of something I don't need, fly roundtrip for $236, another job rejection e-mail. Pause.... followed by "dammit," which was followed by "Where ARE you?" I think he said, "I'm right here." I know that should have been good enough... but it wasn't. "I died for you Leigh Anne." Yeah... I want that to somehow make it all better, or at least help me feel happy and excited. "Be thankful. That will open your heart to be able to receive my peace that passes all understanding." I'm not proud of what I responded with. In fact, I'm ashamed... and at the same time I'm thankful that I know he can take it.

Despite my feelings, I do believe what God tells us: choosing thankfulness in the midst of ________ (fill in the blank), we make ourselves available to what God wants for us: peace, growth, refinement, hope, joy, depth, perspective.

So I decided to make a list of things that I'm thankful for. Here's what I came up with:
- the Ericksons
- sharpie pens that don't bleed through paper
- Happy Tummy tea
- cozy things: fire places, down comforters
- natural light
- the colors amber, olive, coral, navy, gray
- Sara Groves
- grandparents
- parents
- sisters
- poached eggs
- people who believe in me
- frozen yogurt
- misfit gatherings
- the Goodwill by my old house
- my hair when it's blow dried
- redemption
- truth
- severe mercies
- spotify
- canning
- apple butter
- lemon curd
- baby Ada cakes (can't wait to see her)
- good childhood memories
- Thanksgiving day parade
- people who tell me hard truths
- people who let me be in process
- teachability
- gesso
- free things
- Bodie's artwork
- Tate's babbling
- aprons
- growth
- self-awareness
- bold honesty
- surrender
- crazy love
- my Bible study
- relationships that are consistent and stable
- patience
- people who encourage me to be gracious with myself
- psalm 16
- texts from Caitlin Staples
- wearing dresses
- boots
- rooftop views
- complexity
- bucket lists
- Gregory Alan Isakov
- Brandi Carlile
- kari Jobe
- Patty Griffin
- cheese
- stringed instruments
- stacks of books
- magazines
- good toilet paper
- boundaries
- generosity
- intertwining of brokenness and beauty
- openness
- my experience at the Crossing, especially the groups
- baseball T's
- connecting
- empowering
- home movies
- hymns
- having a clear heart before the Lord
- repurposing

Here's the song I referenced in the title of this post: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOGlUvqPAUo
It kind of reminds me of the lamenting Psalms, and how they hold sorrow and hope in tension... how they express sadness and fear, but book-end the raw distress with raw commitment to the Lord and a ruthless trust in his character. If I let the stubbornness slide off my back, it's replaced with acceptance: of my circumstances AND of God's presence (which encompasses so much more than I could ever articulate or even be aware of).

Next thing on the list for today... make that corn that reminds me of mom and Grandma Sally. Take a shower. Take the corn to a Thanksgiving meal. Laugh, smile, relate, listen, share.

{and it's just you and me here now, only you and me here now}

This song has been on repeat in my mind and iTunes for the past few days. Maybe about every fifth play, I smile because David Crowder always reminds me of the community bathroom in Olson Hall  (2WO to be exact). 

Take my heart, I Lay it down
At the feet of you who's crowned
Take my life, I’m letting go
I lift it upto You who’s throned

And I will worship You, Lord
Only You, Lord
And I will bow down before You
Only You Lord

Take my fret, take my fear
All I have, I’m leaving here
Be all my hopes, be all my dreams
Be all my delights, be my everything

And It’s just you and me here now
Only you and me here now

You should see the view
When it’s only You

I've been entrusted with a brain that can analyze and process with the best of them. My mind is like a web of webs of information... data points collected from countless sights, sounds, smells, thoughts, feelings, emotions arranged in a complex interweaving of trains of thought made even more complex by the new bits of information added every day. This has made school ... well, I wouldn't say easier, per se... maybe I should say it has been a major contributor to my academic success. It has helped me in my quest to enjoy the depth and richness of life and people. It has enhanced my creativity. It has made my walk with God a unique one. 

It has also given me at times a false sense of mastery and control. I have slipped into looking to my ability to make sense of things as a source of security and safety. I have found myself managing relationships based on my ability to conceptualize them. When the messiness of life turns out to be beyond me ability to conceptualize, I interpret my mental failure as personal failure. 

And then our good and gracious God silences me, sometimes in a way that feels harsh and abrupt, always in a way that reminds me of his sovereignty. Until recently I think I interpreted anger from this kind of interaction with God. I don't want to go as far as to say that anger isn't a part of who God is or his heart towards me, BUT I do think that even if anger is part of the equation it's not the whole story. Actually, I'm going to be bold and say that it's not the most important part of what is going on.

God is good and gracious and tender and joyful and peaceful and powerful and just and merciful. In a moment of chaos, many times self-imposed, when I can't process my way out, God says, "make your heart right with me... and then wait. Wait and see how I show up. You aren't alone. I'm not going to give you what you deserve. Instead I'm offering you peace and hope that are deeper than the chaos and mess." 

Thank you God for being bigger than what I can conceptualize. Thank you for being stronger than my fears. Thank you for being deeper than my emotions.   

::: you did that for me :::

{name that artist and you get a prize... which will probably be a pat on the back that you have to give yourself. but that's a good prize. so do it.}

Over the past couple of weeks, I've become aware of the reality that I'm missing some of my clothes. Some of the items are incompatible with the Dallas heat, so I'm not too concerned. Other items {like all of my shorts except for 2 pairs}, seem slightly more relevant and necessary. I've been putting off going to the storage unit because storage units are dark and smelly and hot and a perfect example of organized chaos... especially when Isaac and George are your movers.

Today I broke. After a little Gilad-ing {shout out: Julie Heth, Lindsay Will, Britt Kroll, Lauren Angel, Julia Wicker, Becca Mercer}, Carol and I headed to Public Storage. I attempted to dig around and look at every label on every box. I even opened a few. No such luck. The whereabouts of my shorts and other summer attire remain a mystery.

We got back to the house and I could feel a little pit of frustration turning around in my gut. As I walked up the stairs I thought, "this is so not about the shorts."

And it's not that the shorts issue is the straw that has broken some camel's back. I think that somewhere in my heart I was hoping that finding that dang box would bring me some relief... of what I am not sure. Hmmmm. Maybe that's it- maybe I want relief from uncertainty, from not knowing, from being limited.

It is so apparent to me that I am limited. My post-masters, in-transition, unemployed heart can not analyze its way out of the uncertainty of life. It can't perform its way into a comfortable security. It can't come up with eloquent words and pretty analogies. In the midst of scrambling to do something, anything, to find a steady footing, God takes His big hands and wraps them around my heart and holds it still. At first it feels paralyzing. My heart starts to beat a bit harder as if it was trying to jump out of His hands. And then it pauses in the stillness.

 I know that I know that I know that I know that God does not hold me in His hands simply to teach me a lesson for the sake of a lesson. This is not God putting me in shackles. This is God holding me still so that He can release me from what binds me up. He is ushering me into freedom. When my best efforts prove to be useless, when I have zero ability to do emotional and mental gymnastics, I'm left with only one reasonable choice.

Look what I read this morning:

"Rest with me a while. You have journeyed up a steep, rugged path in recent days. The way ahead is shrouded in uncertainty. Look neither behind you nor before you. Instead, focus your attention on Me, your constant Companion. Trust that I will equip you fully for whatever awaits you on your journey. I designed time to be a protection for you. You couldn't bear to see all your life at once. Though I am unlimited by time, it is in the present moment that I meet you. Refresh yourself in My company, breathing deep draughts of My presence. The highest level of trust is to enjoy Me moment by moment. I am with you, watching over you wherever you go."
Jesus Calling, Sara Young

I know I've referenced this book a few times now, and I think it's because something about the way this chick paraphrases scripture speaks to my heart. It strikes me as rich... and true. That kind of truth that is too good... too perfect...too healing... my heart hesitates and yearns to just soak it in at the same time. Today's little reading was followed by a couple of passages. One of them is Psalm 143.

"Hurry with your answer, God! I'm nearly at the end of my rope.
Don't turn away; don't ignore me! That would be certain death. 
If you wake me each morning with the sound of your loving voice, I'll go to sleep each night trusting you. 
Point out the road I must travel; I'm all ears, all eyes before you.
Save me from my enemies God--You're my only hope! 
Teach me how to live to please you, because YOU are my God.
Lead me by your blessed Spirit into cleared and level pastureland."
{vs 7-10}

And then there's this S. Groves song that just messes me up.

... I don't have to know it all
I don't have to be so proud and stand so tall
I climbed that mountain only to fall
I don't have to know it all.
You did that for me,
Oh, you did that for me
You wore the chains so I could be free
You did that for me...

side note: it's been playing on repeat for an hour and a half and I'm not even close to being sick of it.

I think I've assumed that just being in the presence of the Lord without attempting to earn or perform or learn was just lazy... or lacked the promise of security. I thought choosing to sit at His feet was passive. But... today... I am realizing it isn't lazy or passive... at all.  It requires that we battle our temptation to be in some sort of control over the world and our standings with Him. It requires that we fight the urge to :do: in order to find a way into His heart. Oh that's hard. What I maybe have seen as laziness or naiveté is the peace and freedom that comes from acknowledging that He has taken what I deserve so that I could be free.

"'Martha, Martha,' the Lord answered, 'you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed- or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her.'"
Luke 10:41-42

Mary chose Jesus. And she found joy and freedom and delight and intimacy and peace. Even through the pages Mary emanates this remarkable purity of spirit. And the presence of the Lord and all that floods  "will not be taken away from her." oooooooh snaaaap.

Sometimes it is hard for me to trust God's invitation, and yet I know that if I am not pressing into Him and what He offers me, then what else am I left with? A world and its redundant currency of success, power, infatuations, and emptiness.

The desire of my heart is to take what feels like a risk and throw myself into what I sense God is calling me into. I already have a deep anticipation that what I find will be so unbelievably rich that I'll forget that I had to "risk" anything to get there.

{big sigh}

amen.

{strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow...

... blessings all mine, with then thousand beside}

Sometimes I approach God like those superhero cartoons approach their oddly omniscient leader... all gathering together standing in front of some big screen where they can see and hear, but not touch, the mastermind, ready to get the briefing before going out to save the world from whatever might be threatening everything that is good and right on that particular day. This morning was like that for me. "Ok God. I'm here. I've got my cape, my sassy spandex, my cute little superpowers, and a good attitude. Tell me what to do. Send me off. Don't you worry. I'll get things put back together in no time."

Then God did something that completely threw me. He stepped out of the big flat screen and moved towards me while pulling me in all in the same motion. And he said this:

"Learn to laugh at yourself more freely. Don't take yourself or your circumstances so seriously. Relax and know that I am God with you. When you desire My will above all else, life becomes much less threatening. Stop trying to monitor My responsibilities--things that are beyond your control. Find freedom by accepting the boundaries of your domain. Laughter lightens your load and lifts your heart into heavenly places. Your laughter rises to heaven and blends with angelic melodies of praise. Just as parents delight in the laughter of their children, so I delight in hearing My children laugh. I rejoice when you trust Me enough to enjoy your life lightheartedly. Do not miss the Joy of My Presence by carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Rather, take My yoke upon you and learn from Me. My yoke is comfortable and pleasant; My burden is light and easily borne."
(Sarah Young, Jesus Calling)

Oh snap. Reflecting back, I see how it could be easy to almost take those words as an insult... as a threat to our hard earned self assurance. I think today I just feel still. I'm actually smiling because I am picturing a sweetie pie little girl in a resourcefully designed superhero costume just standing, mouth open, head tilted up, too taken by the magnificence in front of her to realize that she's dropped her teddy-bear-side-kick... that she's literally melting into God's words to her.

God continues:

"You are my beloved child. I chose you before the foundation of the world, to walk with Me along paths designed uniquely for you. Concentrate on keeping in step with Me, instead of trying to anticipate My plans for you. If you trust that My plans are to prosper you and not to harm you, you can relax and enjoy the present moment. Your hope and future are rooted in heaven, where eternal ecstasy awaits you. Nothing can rob you of your inheritance of unimaginable riches and well-being.  Sometimes I grant you glimpses of your glorious future, to encourage you and spur you on. But your main focus should be staying close to Me. I set the pace in keeping with your needs and My purposes."
(Sarah Young, Jesus Calling)

My mind is sort of magnetizing back to this one picture in my head... a picture of an actual picture :) that my dad has used numerous times in past sermons. It's a picture of my dad holding mine and my older sister's hands, one of us on either side of him, as we walk down a beach. Andrea is probably about 6, which would make me about 3. We've got our little rain jackets on, and the weather looks a little bit damp and cloudy. My mom captured the perfect moment with the camera--which should come as no shock... she's amazing with cameras amongst other things. My dad's stature is big and strong...the kind of size that could overpower our little bodies... yet the way he is holding our hands you can tell we were all walking together with ease. Andrea and I are almost hopping... partly so our little legs could keep up with daddio, and partly because we were feeling so free. I love it... love love love it.

There is a part of my heart that has been so resistant to walk this way with God. I guess I can see how that particular stubbornness has developed. Yet even given the list of all the little rationales, I am sitting here today with a persistent thought: "I didn't realize... I didn't realize I was living in bondage, I thought I was living free. This is the power of the gospel- that by the blood of Jesus we have been invited to walk closely with Abba daddy... having a heart that is freed up to be delighted and giggly, even on a big and potentially threatening beach... confident that he is holding me tight, smiling so big."

It is in this space with the Lord that I am most accurately perceiving who God is, who I am, and my experiences/circumstances. I think it is in this space that a profound and uninhibited trust in God's faithfulness is harvested... being so saturated in the freedom of being present to Him that we could be in  Hebrews 11:31-35a or a Hebrews 11:35b-38 and be authentically worshipping God, thanking Him for His faithfulness. Oh I want my heart to stay in that space.

This morning I woke up and had a text from my mom reminding me of what happened 10 years ago today. Surprisingly, my heart response wasn't very pronounced or intense. I didn't feel sad or mad or empty or afraid. Those thoughts didn't even have an inch of mental space to occupy. I was thinking about her warrior heart... her strength and beauty that somehow permeated the chaos. She was thinking about me...my courageous heart. My soul started to sing:

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father
there is no shadow of turning with Thee
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not
as Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be






the sun is out. and i'm melting into Him.

{there is a hope that whispers a vow...

... a promise to stay while we're working it out, so come with your love and wash over us}

s. groves

There's something about Dallas that exposes places of my heart that seem to want to hide. Some of the places are indeed the corners that are perfect for a sin to weasel into and hide from the light. Other places are pure and good and rich- just a little hesitant to step into the vulnerability of being seen. There's just something about being here. Unlike a lot of things in my life, the "something" is tangible... unnamable, but tangible. I can feel it in my chest, I can sense it in my mind, and feel it in my soul.... deep down. It's as if this has become the place God takes me when he wants some one-on-one time, away from the chaos of life. There are people here that I know have specifically been placed in my life to help me re-calibrate, to give me a broader picture of who Abba is, to hold up a mirror and say, "girlie, this is who you are. Can't you see it?" I think my tired little heart knew it had been wrung out during seminary... and I think it knew to come here... kind of like how mommy penguins regularly do the whole migration to the ocean to fill their bellies with food to bring back to their babies. {At least I think that's how it works... roughly.}

One of my favorite things about Dallas is the morning. I like waking up here. Maybe it's the sunlight that flows in, maybe it's Annie the dog coming to greet me while I'm still in bed, maybe it's Gilad [side note: if you don't know about the Israeli studmuffin, look him up. now.] The morning comes in and invites me to sit right smack dab in the presence of God... right at His feet. It's easy for me forget that I have permission to be there. Hmmmmm.... actually it's not permission. I don't think God just puts up with me coming to Him... I think He longs for it. I think He's created a comfy little spot to perfectly suit my booty. The hope is to choose to connect to this place wherever I am- physically, emotionally, cognitively.

In that place before God any rigidity in my heart softens. Tightness loosens. Numbness fades. I start to sink back into myself. Just as soon as I sink in and settle, this subtle awareness and knowledge of God starts to flow in. I find a calmness and a peace and a hope that the world just can't offer. There's a joy that seems too good to be true. WIthout even trying I start to feel surrendered. When I'm sitting before the Lord my heart-response is gratitude, trust, humility, confidence, peace, restfulness. Maybe the most noticeable feeling I have is that I can just be... because sitting at the throne is different than trying to sit in it. Acknowledging that God is God and I am not is soul-freeing. Funny how we can start to think that control is the remedy for fear. No way jose. It's submission to God's omniscience. Putting self or anything else in God's throne only feeds the fear and increases the demands on the soul. 

I don't know why we wander from this place of surrender and start to creep up onto the throne. Maybe we get over-confident or impatient. Maybe we start to listen to the serpent like Eve did- "Don't you know? God's holding out on you." 

Listening to that lie starts to create a prodigal heart, at least it has in me. I gather up my inheritance- the ways God has gifted me, created me, blessed me- and I take off to find my own way. I have been overwhelmed with the awareness of how this prodigal daughter has broken my Father's heart... but... I have been more overwhelmed by His response to me when reality sets in and I am absolutely and completely without- nothing to sustain me, nothing to give back as a penance to my Father. 

"[I] was so hungry [I] would have eaten the corn cobs in the pig slop, but no one would give [me] any. That brought [me] to [my] senses. [I] said, 

'All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death. I'm going back to my father. I'll say to him, father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; I don't deserve to be called your [daughter]. Take me on as a hired hand.'

[I] got right up and went home to [my] father. 

When [I] was still a long way off, [my] father saw [me]. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced [me], and kissed [me]. [I] started [my] speech: 

'Father, I've sinned against God, I've sinned before you; I don't deserve to be called your [daughter] ever again.'

But [my] father wasn't listening. He was calling to the servants, 'Quick. Bring a clean set of clothes and dress [her]. Put the family ring on [her] finger and sandals on [her] feet. Then get a grain-fed heifer and roast it. We're going to feast! We're going to have a wonderful time! My [daughter] is here- given up for dead and now alive! Given up for lost and now found!'

And [we] began to have a wonderful time." 

It's like Miss Groves so eloquently sings: 

there is a love that never fails

there is a healing that always prevails

there is a hope that whispers a vow

a promise to stay while we're working it out

so come with your love and wash over us 

Thank you, my father,

for whispering a vow when I don't hear you call 

thank you staying when I wander

thank you for being patient while I work it out

thank you. 

{i never swam far from shore}

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=av2O2MIZuHY

I think I've been listening to this song on repeat for about an hour at least and I'm not even the least bit sick of it. There's an ease to the melody, and a consistency... a confident yet at-peace stillness. It's a song that reminds me of the eye of a storm. Perhaps that is why it has made itself at home in my head.

Lately I've been feeling what I can only describe as slow motion chaos. There's an element of that every time I'm anticipating big change or transition. My counselor-self reassures my non-counselor-self that this is all normal, and I'll soon settle back into homoeostasis. In the meantime, I'll listen to this song and others like it that seem to infuse the slow motion chaos with a soothing reminder of transcendence. Standing alone, on a sandbar out in the middle of some vast expanse of water, a monster of a wave threatening my unprotected human body with its mass. I close my eyes, surrender to the unknown, and the fear fades because I know the Knower.

I'm not sure exactly what the wave is. Maybe I subconsciously named it earlier... "the unknown." Not just some stupid "unknown" that people refer to when someone graduates high school or college... or a masters program. I mean sure, yes, I am graduating in a month-ish. No I don't have a ten year plan... or a one year plan. But to say that my personal unknown can be simplified to graduating without having nailed down my next whatever is almost insulting. The big wave is so much more complex and mysterious, probably because a person is so much more than a two-dimensional being that leads a connect-the-dots kind of existence.

In my world, the unknown is synonymous with tension. I think of how many times I sense its threatening presence and react by either running towards the wave and surrender to it just so that I don't have to anticipate my collapse any longer, or putting up my dukes as if I could fight it off. I'm picturing that kid from the movie Little Giants who has the muscle mass of... well... me..., and stands in front of a mirror growling and flexing.

What about rooting myself in truth {i.e. who God is, who I am, what God has promised}, fighting the urge to react, inhale slow and deep, and stand in the unknown... in the tension... in the blank spots that are left when old lies are finally seen for what they really are- empty.

The complexity, mystery, and silencing power of the big wave sends my thoughts to my God who is not just complex but sovereign over His intricacies; who is not just mysterious but stays with us in the silence; who is not just powerful but compassionate in His omnipotence.

I never swam far from shore

never tried the secret door 

but when you give me love

when you give me love 

I have no fear of heights 

no fear of the deep blue sea

although it could drown me

I know it could drown me 

I'm warming up to the idea that not only does God meet me in the tension, out in the middle of the deep blue sea, but that He actually calls me out there... He invites me into the tension, into the unknown, into the slow motion chaos.

Because 

it's in that tension that I must be oriented to Him. My heart must be calibrated according to His. We are made to outgrow the excitement of the shore. We are made to venture into the dangerous places in life, or simply the awareness of them. I do not pretend to have a tight grasp on the "whys" and "hows," but I am confident in this: God draws us into the tension and into Himself in the same motion. 

I never walked near the edge

used to fear falling

...

but when you give me love 

when you give me love

...

no fear of the fall

no fear if it's with you that I fall

I'm thinking about the last line of "A Grief Observed." Lewis quotes Dante {I think?} to give one final glimpse into the preciousness of his bride's heart.
"Poi si torno all' eterna fontana," ...
"then into the eternal fountain she turned."

:: all i have need of ::

For whatever reason, I have been feeling uncomfortably in tune with my need for God. A good pastor's daughter like me comes out of the womb knowing that "there's a God-shaped-vacuum inside every person," and that "nothing but God can satisfy it." I get it, I know it, I believe it. Lately I think I have been living it. I live the longing for something outside of me to provide even a hint comfort, hope, joy, conviction, passion, empowerment, purpose, peace. I live the disappointment that follows when I pick something other than the something. {Thankfully} I live the "power and comfort of God's hand in mine,"** when I orient myself to God, his truth, his people, his leadership, his judgment, his mercy, his covenant, his spirit.

Today this song came up on my iPod.
**http://www.last.fm/music/Sara+Groves/_/He%27s+Always+Been+Faithful 
One of the lines is, "all I have need of his hand will provide, he's always been faithful to me." There are so many times that I am so overcome by the "all I have need of," part {my needs, poverty, starvation, rape, murder, broken marriages, miscarriages, death, cancer, yadda yadda yadda}. Tonight the tears come because I just can not get over the profound reality that "he's always been faithful to me."

It's not that I have forgotten the longings of my heart. They are still very present, and very real. At the same time, I am struck by the richness, purity, and depth of God's provision. I don't know why it is so easy for me to start to fear that God will suddenly decide to stop providing. The Bible doesn't teach me that- it teaches that God is a covenant keeper- that he knows me, cares for me, is gracious unto me, created me, redeems me, forgives me, protects me. When the fear sets in, that's when I try to take matters in my own hands.

I'm thinking of what happens sometimes when I'm babysitting : I make the bottle, baby sees bottle, I take baby and bottle into baby's room, I set bottle down, attempt to change baby, baby who has seen bottle screams because I'm trying to change them into pajamas first, baby resists the pajama change prolonging the process. Poor thing doesn't know that if they would just stop resisting, we'd get those little jammies zipped up and go get the bottle.

I become baby: "ummmmm I just saw God make the bottle, but now he's withholding it from me?" So I fight it, and fight it, and fight it. I imagine God saying, "just settle down, slow down, calm down."

We can wiggle ourselves out of the God's arms that have never ceased to provide in an attempt to get our hands on the goods and satisfy what feels like a starving belly. That's kind of what Abram and Sarai tended to do {read it}. I wonder if they would have had to wait so long for Isaac had they been more obedient. We can't really know that, but I think we can be fairly confident that they would have avoided some fall-out {i.e. Hagar drama} had they chosen to walk with God rather than trying to fulfill God's promise to them... by themselves. Kind of stupid, actually. I don't know why humanity does that.

We do not get to control how God demonstrates his faithfulness or the timing of the process.
But we do have choice in the matter:
option #1: earnestly seek God's hand {i.e. God to act in the ways we expect/demand}
or
option #2: earnestly seek God's face.

The former can leave us disappointed, throwing a hissy, deciding that God is holding out. That's super annoying and tends to isolate us from relationships because other people get sick of being around that craziness. But the worst part about option #1 is that we are missing out on the profound experience of knowing God.

My knowledge of God is earth-bound, but it is profoundly rich and life giving- it's intangible and indescribable, and so intimate that no other human being can ever comprehensively experience it with me.

And yet it comprehensively
... no...
it abundantly fills me.


i can't remember a trial or a pain
he did not recycle to bring me gain
i can't remember one single regret
in serving God only and trusting his hand
all i have need of his hand will provide
he's always been faithful to me

{ you're the target that i'm aiming at }

"target"... arrow ... cupid ... (cherub .. chubby?) ... valentines day ... eww.

in honor of this "eww"-ness, today i am reflecting on sin : D ba ha ha.


actually, i started this inner dialogue earlier this week. today just seems like the right day for the thoughts to assemble into letters and words and travel down my arms, through my fingers, to these keys, on this screen.

so, last weekend i went to this stupid complimentary training session. my trainer for the hour, among other things [i.e. handsy], was ... enthusiastic. after telling me my physique was "acceptable," he encouraged me to abide by a plan that i can only describe as a legalistic version of the religion of fitness. i admit, he was rather convincing. for a moment i actually believed my new life goal should be to have a BMI of 15%. when the session was over, i got my things and headed out. he stopped me, "wait, are you finished?" um. yes. "yeah. i've got a Bible study to get to." "oh, so you're one of those religious types."

i noticed him trying to catch my eye during subsequent work-outs. this kind of weirdness is interpreted by most ladies as creepy. i thought i had successfully managed to convince him that i was un-interruptible. [i felt pretty confident about my shoulder presses]. i was walking out of the facility when i saw him out of the corner of my eye... and he was moving towards me. then he said hi. then he walked with me to the door. then he cornered me. and started to ask me about church.

i said a little- just enough to answer his questions, not enough to invite more conversation. then he started to tell me about his beliefs. fair enough, [although the context of a 24 hour fitness was unexpected]. he told me that he had grown up Catholic, went to a protestant/evangelical church in his young adult life, and now as a 50(?) year old, he has found something new and "amazing." I don't remember the specific names of the people, books, or movements ... maybe miracle something ... but I do remember him saying that in this new spirituality of his he has found the truth: "church wants us to believe that we are separate from God when really we are one with him." [oh boy.] "God is love ... all that stuff they say about sin ... why would God create us to sin? God is perfect!" [oh no.] "I mean, it's so great! It all makes sense! God loves us!" it was the wrong time for me to say anything other than, "i'd love to hear more about it sometime," which was true. i want to hear what this spirituality of his is, because it says something about what he is looking for and what he needs.

my immediate afterthought was, "we [people] don't get sin." lately, God has been answering a prayer i said years ago, asking him to "pull back the covers to reveal my other [figurative] lovers." He's been dealing with me. He's been exposing what my heart seems to lust after like an adulterous wife. He's been meeting me, as i sit in a newly humbled posture. He's been loving me.

I think that it's possible that humanity can't handle the unrest of the topic of "sin" because we don't get it ... we don't see the full picture. We can see-feel-taste-hear-smell the shame, the void, the darkness. We don't like to sit in this stuff. some rationalize and justify to dissolve the guilt. some wallow in shame so as to at least be honest. my trainer friend decides that sin is an illusion and that we are really one with God ... that we ARE God. I wonder if he's really convinced himself of that. i can't think that he has ... there's too much pain in the world to keep flying in the face of such a farce.

i don't claim to know it perfectly, to live it perfectly, to be perfectly faithful to it ... but i know the answer - the one that even in all of it's mystery can free me from forsakenness.

Jesus.

the reality of sin is horrific.
the reality of Jesus is glorious.

by denying-invalidating-erasing sin, we deny-invalidate-erase JESUS that rushes in like a flood with grace, peace, mercy, fulfillment, joy.

we have to acknowledge the sin
sit with the mess
long enough
for the blood of Jesus to move in
and heal, bind up, purify, to give life

my heart doesn't always feel all of this as a reality. in those times i have to choose faith and hope in the things i "know" cognitively. there are a few moments in my life where it has seemed like the space between me and God wasn so thin that i could almost hear him breathing. One of these times was right in the middle of a pretty dark day [week... month ... semester?] of college. this song came on. and i stopped. it was like i was hearing the words for the first time. it was like they were passing over God's lips and humming in my ears ... kind of like how words sound when your head is resting on someone's chest while they are talking. the song's significance gets deeper and richer with every painful experience: "love to the loveless shown" adolescence?, "your heavy heart is made of stone" college?, "and I'm not gonna take it back, and i'm not gonna say i don't mean that" 2009? With all of the fractured displays of love in this world (sins against us), and the fallout we experience when we royally mess up (sins by us), it is NO WONDER the ache in a heart is stilled at the very possibility that God could love like this - relentless, piercing, reckless, valiant, forever.

so Lord, don't let me hide from the reality of my sin
and don't let me hide from the reality of you.

[disclaimer: "and i'm nothing on my own." God doesn't need us. right. i get it. and at the same time, there's an element of the opposite reality - that God isn't really God if he is not loving His creation. I haven't fully thought this one out yet. let it be in tension, people.] [and happy valentine's day, valentines.]


my song is love
love to the loveless shown
and it goes on
you don't have to be alone


your heavy heart
is made of stone
and it's so hard to see clearly
you don't have to be alone
you don't have to be alone


and i'm not gonna take it back
and i'm not gonna say i don't mean that
you're the target that i'm aiming at
got to get that message home


my song is love
my song is love, unknown
but i'm on fire for you, clearly
you don't have to be alone
you don't have to be on your own


and i'm not gonna take it back
and i'm not gonna say i don't mean that
you're the target that i'm aiming at 
and i'm nothing on my own
got to get that message home


and i'm not gonna stand and wait
not gonna leave it till it's much too late
on a platform i'm gonna stand and sing
that i'm nothing on my own


my song is love, love unknown
and i've got to get that message home

coldplay <3

:perfectly lonely:

:i don't belong to anyone and nobody belongs to me:
:that's the way, that's the way, that's the way that i want it:

really j. mayer? i'll sadly leave you in that delusion, illusion ... to that preclusion of a life fully realized.

confession- when i first heard the song i liked it. a lot.
it met a need i had to feel upbeat and righteous about my isolation (aka my choice method of coping).
funny, it never really helped.
nope. i wasn't perfectly lonely. i was just lonely.

today i heard the song again on the radio. let it be known that i do enjoy mayer. i get, and don't necessarily disagree with, reasons people have for criticizing him and his music: "he's a pervert," "he's not really that good of a vocalist," "he's just another guy with a guitar." yeah, and for some reason i still find myself drawn to certain songs of his. i get the sense that he has the propensity for depth. i wonder if his crudeness and heartless dealings with women are maladaptive responses to "stuff" in his life. this person who has the capacity for profundity chooses to keep it to himself where it plateaus and remains caged. maybe in isolation people start to rot a little bit ... they have no access to the feedback, nourishment, and pruning that come with meaningful relationships. possibly. i won't deny the luxuries of doing life solo, but like i said ... i think it's an illusion ... a promise of fulfillment, control, freedom that can only stand to support a sort of lackluster existence. and i'm just going to throw this out there : removing ourselves from relationship creates the perfect environment for non-truths to take root and take over.

i'm dealing with my own learning curve in this area. moving towards intimacy is a risk because we have to re-visit the rules of our lives and evaluate if they are really working for us. old comfortable rules die hard, especially when their factuality seems to have been reinforced and proven by our life experiences. i'm not even 25, but i already know that i'm not going to do this "perfectly lonely" dance and shellack a smile on my face until i've convinced myself that it's "the way that i want it."

instead:
* "i'm there too," michelle featherstone
* "take a load off annie," marshall tucker band
* "better," regina spektor
* "i'm gonna be," the proclaimers
* "by your side," sade
* "heavenly day," patty griffin
* "stick with me baby," robert plant & alison krauss
* "easy silence," dixie chicks
* "roll to the middle," sara groves
* "loving a person," sara groves
* "different kinds of happy," sara groves
* "i hurt too," katie herzig
* "always a use," madeleine peyroux
* "a message," coldplay
* "coming up easy," paolo nutini


i am in no way shape or form promoting enmeshment. no no no no. that's like the cousin of j. mayer's approach to life : equally miserable.

[big sigh] ... something to be unpacked another day.

in closing, i'm thinking about something one of the most amazing women in the world said to me today. we were talking about the above and related subjects, and somehow i was reminded of something this cutie-patootie 3 year old said to me. i had just made him dinner and got him all situated at the table with his placemat, teddy-bear plate, and glass of milk. then like i usually do, i headed back to start cleaning up. he looked over at me and said, "would you like to come over and keep me company?"

i melted. i realized that i had overlooked the treasure of his little soul that wanted nothing more than to be close to me. i realize how often i do that with people in my world.

and then the amazing woman said something to me, "Leigh Anne, don't you think God might be waiting for you to ask him that question? 'Hi God, would you like to come over and keep me company?"

why... hmmm... i guess.... i guess maybe.... and maybe somehow i have a bit of that preciousness in my spirit. the kind that just makes him melt, gush, drop everything, come be with me and delight.

: are you lonesome tonight :

self-admitted guilty pleasure = the bachelor.

a. as Lauren Angel says, it's a reminder of how distasteful crazy girl is. blech. spit that out.
b. affirms my theory on the curse of Eve ... women having a tendency to surrender themselves to at times relationally incapable men
c. awkward + drama + tearful train wrecks = entertaining {it's simple math}

the more i pursue things like authenticity, integrity, congruence, i am starting to see little sproutings of balance and discernment. something i've been thinking of lately is the marriage of freedom and accountability. case in point : the bachelor.

if i had a nickel for every time i yell at the computer screen, "girl, you signed up for the bachelor. goodness gracious." i have slight empathy because i know my own capability to be clingly/needy/subservient/spineless. however my strongest emotion is frustration. these women walked into the disaster of the bachelor. {interestingly, they are all "catches" by societies standards. why so single and primed to surrender self?} the whole thing screams of fear : fear that manifests itself as over-analyzing, crying, manipulation, anxiety, blame, self-centeredness, insecurity, scrambling, hopeless attempts to control everyone and everything ... all yucky. bigger picture, it's my guess that many if not most of the girls that signed up did so at least in part because they were afraid of being single - in the present or forever.

i'm not on the bachelor but there are many times that i forge into territory that only promises disappointment and maybe disaster. and then i feel like the victim to what is only natural consequences to my decisions. no doubt there are inviting aspects of the bachelor : come make out with a hottie, sit by the pool all day, travel, have pillow fights, drink champagne all the time. seems to promise to make every girl the queen bee ... but ... how is that possible? the bachelor is set up so that one girl stands at the end, but then again there's the possibility that the dude choses no one ... or that he chooses someone and the "relationship" turns into the most dreadful experience of a lady's lifetime. side note : those producers are heartless.

such things in life promise to make us princes and princesses. and then they leave us looking like suckers. what's that thing Isaiah says to Israel when they are grieving the fact that their ba'als aren't answering them? "They say nothing, because they are nothing -- sham gods, no-gods, fool-making gods," [isaiah 41:24].

i'm contrasting this whole corrupt situation with a different kind of darkness. There's a book I got for Christmas that i've finally made time to read. It's called, "I Loved Jesus in the Night." The second-title part is, "Teresa of Calcutta, a Secret Revealed." listen to this : i hate reading. but i can't put this little thing down. I love Paul Murray for writing it in short-chapter form. Here's the profound and impossibility of Mother Teresa's soul condition - she was overwhelmed with darkness. "To be in love and yet not love, to live by faith and yet not to believe. To spend myself and yet to be in total darkness." She was overwhelmed with a looming sense of a terrible co-existence of a longing for God and the feeling that he had abandoned her.

unlike those bachelor babes, Mother Teresa faced the darkness with honesty, petitions, commitment, diligence. her exhausted and wrung-dry heart moved forward into a calling that came from a God she at times doubted even existed. "The loneliness of the heart that wants love is unbearable ... I have no faith -- I dare not utter the words and thoughts that crowd in my heart -- and make me suffer untold agony ... If there is a God, please forgive me ... When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven - there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul." um.

and further contrary to those other ladies, Mother Teresa is described by those who encountered here as radiant. RADIANT. i look at those ladies on t.v. and the word that comes to mind is pitiful. Mother Teresa seems to have made some peace with the tension of the soul. She was moved by the words of John of the Cross : "This dark night is an inflow of God into the soul." Or as Paul Murray says, "Rather [the darkness] was the shadow cast in her soul by the overwhelming light of God's presence : God utterly present and yet utterly hidden."

in a time of serious illness (June 1983), Mother Teresa wrote, rather prayed, "Jesus, I love with my whole heart, with my whole being. I have given Him all, even my sins, and He has espoused me to Himself in tenderness and love."

she walked into a calling ... into uncharted territory ... into darkness ... into tension ... into being ... into honesty ... into fear ... this was not a manipulative way to get her love cup filled ... but that seems to be exactly what happened.

amen, and amen.