the lights are out in my bathroom...

and i'm back.

its been a long time away, i suppose. ha. its like i assume people actual read this.

whatever.

school's almost out. i can smell summer swarming its sweltering self toward my unsuspecting body. it is enticing me away from any hopes of getting my work done. somehow, planning my life out for the next three months is way more interesting than writing papers.

funny how that works.

for the first time in years, i am going home for more than three weeks. its quite an exciting and romantic thought, actually. makes it hard to focus on everything that is going on here. and trust me there is a lot to do around these parts. papers. finals. closing duties. goodbyes. and don't remind me we only have two weeks left. that just stresses me out more.

so far. here is my list for the summer:

1) books. read them. seems simple enough. i have about five that i bought at the theology conference wheaton held a few weeks back and, like the nerd i am, i am incredibly pumped to thumb through them.
2) thrift stores. i would like some new (well, old) clothes. my wardrobe has ashamedly turned into practicality. it needs some spice. not that practicality is bad, necessarily, mind you.
3) with that, cleaning my life out. literally and figuratively, i have a lot of crap that i need to sort through. i am eagerly anticipating to do some sorting this summer.
4) picture taking. lots of them.
5) dance classes. because i want to listen to my inner ballerina that i have stifled all these years
6) yoga. yes. please.
7) running. maybe... this is a hopeful statement.
8) little five points
9) family time. i miss them
10) rest. and lots of it.

and, of course. i will be working in between all these things. i have a pretty sweet job lined up. interning at my church. should be interesting, actually. i am pretty pumped. i have no desire, really, to go into church ministry after graduation, but i will be working with their high schoolers. more specifically, i will be working with their community formation team - forming small groups and helping to facilitate that. i figure i could learn a thing or two from it, even though i have no future goals of working in a church. the Lord provided. i don't know why he wants me there, but he provided. and i am, in no way, complaining.

recently

the only words i can express when i enter into the presence of the Lord seem to be:

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.

it has literally become my breath-prayer. said, over and over with the patterns of my lungs...

(in) Lord Jesus Christ... (out) have mercy on me.

haiti.

my heart breaks for that country. never before in my lifetime have i felt such an emotional attachment to the utter devastation of another country. i don't know why really. but i have cried so much this week, and it is all for haiti.

i don't know what to pray for.

i don't know what to do.

and it is hard not to believe our helplessness against the situation that just keeps mounting.

i read this article by paul farmer, a man who's ideas i just love. i appreciated the practicality and the clarity with which he writes. i don't know if his thoughts are the answer, but he knows more than i do that's for sure.

the link is below. I highly suggest reading it. It was the first hopeful and future focused article I have read.

but here are some highlights i thought were interesting:

"We cannot give up on improving coordination by dismissing important actors as unable to perform their function. The Haitian people, victims of yet another series of blows, are already helping one another, and many have built up informal networks to help their neighbors in need of food, water, or first aid. The Haitian attitude expressed in the saying, ``If there's enough for two, there's enough for three'' has no doubt saved many lives over the past 72 hours."

"Aid should be coordinated and conceived in a way that shores up Haitian capacity to respond. The planeload of surgeons mentioned above were responding to a call from the Haitian National University hospital. It should be noted that the leadership of that hospital (also surgeons) and the director of nursing have been at their posts for days. They are showing up to work even without the coordination and cash and supplies they need. Identifying such priceless local partners is important for many reasons related to relief and rescue, but it is most important for reasons related to recovery."

http://www.miamiherald.com/news/breaking-news/v-fullstory/story/1429930.html

pretaining to brokeness.

I had to sum up my RA experience thus far for an application... (are they kidding me?) This is what I came up with: (including some edits)

My year has not been easy, in any way, but I have learned not to name the situation lightly.

Through my RA experience, I have learned what it means to be truly broken.

....and I mean fragmenting, debilitating, collapsing, ripping.

Recently, I have been hit with the flippancy with which I have used the word “broken.” It's like the way I use my debit card, which is too much regardless of how relative you see it. I say the word without truly understanding the depths of its gruesome meaning, never actually acting out of the rawness and instead expecting myself to perform as one who is whole, one who is healed. I focus on the future, on the reward, and simply rush through the life that has been given to me.

A product of my own culture, I suppose.

For some reason, I cannot recognize that I am part of a sinful humanity and so I consequently experience brokenness. I do not completely admit to it. I look, instead, immediately for the stillness after the storm.

I use the word “broken.” But I do not really intend to dwell in it and accept my imperfection. How often I said, “I feel so broken” and followed, not with a desperate cry for help but, rather with a “ but it’s good, I’m ok.”

In a way, then, I never fully understood, or divulged my complete and utter brokenness. For if I had, I would have stopped filling my broken life with expectations, and stopped assuming its cracks would keep in the water of my presumptions. I would have already been on my shattered knees instead of forcing them to hold the weight of my fast paced attempt to escape. Escape what, I do not know. My humanness, maybe?

All this to say, being an RA has compelled me to honestly accept my pitiful, pathetic, helpless state. And through this I have finally begun to feel a lift away of some sorts from the weight of the burdens on my back. By waiting through the pain, I have begun to truly experience the grace of the Lord. By beginning to accept my imperfection, and my binding, I am washed with His perfect freedom.

I don't know what this means or where this will take me. But that's the excitement of it all.

I guess.

"and Jesus said: 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.'"
Matthew 11:28

"Thus says the LORD of hosts, the God of Israel... 'I will satisfy the weary soul and every languishing soul I will replenish.'"
Jeremiah 31:23,25

because i am obsessed with this song...

i wrote this for a friend. it's long. but it is something that i have been thinking about over the break.

Dear Jill,

Do you remember that time when you visited me at HoneyRock this past summer? You, Scottie, and I spent an afternoon in that field off of Highway X. We collected wild flowers to make into delicate crowns for our heads of tangled, wind blown hair. It was Sunday, I remember, so we were dressed in skirts and cherished the way the air blew them, tossing them in circles around our knees. We took off our shoes and danced. And for a moment, we were carried back to the carelessness of our childhoods. I will always hold that memory in my heart. It brings much warmth, even now in the hibernation of a Michigan winter.

Some things I distinctly remember about that day was the sky and the car ride, with the windows down and the sounds of Bon Iver blasting over the speakers, our hands feeling the rhythms of currents that swished sweet surprises – up and down, up and down.

I don’t know if we listened to this particular song. But I am sure we did. “Re: Stacks” is one of my favorite of his songs and here are the lyrics

This my excavation and today is kumran
Everything that happens is from now on
This is pouring rain
This is paralyzed

I keep throwing it down two-hundred at a time
It's hard to find it when you knew it
When your money's gone
And you're drunk as hell

On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks are your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load

I've twisting to the sun I needed to replace
The fountain in the front yard is rusted out
All my love was down
In a frozen ground

There's a black crow sitting across from me; his wiry legs are crossed
And he's dangling my keys he even fakes a toss
Whatever could it be
That has brought me to this loss?

On your back with your racks as the stacks as your load
In the back and the racks and the stacks of your load
In the back with your racks and you're un-stacking your load

This is not the sound of a new man or crispy realization
It's the sound of the unlocking and the lift away
Your love will be
Safe with me

I resonate with this song and it has slowly become an important sound of refuge in my life. In some odd way though, I think we all resonate with this song. He speaks of “stacks”. The stacks are the struggles in our life, the sadness, the heartache. And in some way they are inescapable.

For Justin Vernon, (he’s Bon Iver… I am sure you knew that but I didn’t want you to be like, what? And then have no way to look it up. Well, do you have internet access? I think you do. But just in case. Hmmm.) the song itself is a personal catharsis. I looked it up on the web, and he is quoted to say that the song, in a lot of ways, represents his time in the woods of Wisconsin. I feel like this is his song of self-discovery, of self-realization. It’s not a “crispy realization”, though, or a click of a lock in the door — a clean break from the past. In the final line he says that some of the past’s love will continue with him, like a pendant or a memory that won’t fade. But as the last line hints at, it is not a total new man. Rather it is just the “unlocking and lift away.” To me, it seems as if Justin is saying that we all go through these hardships, but it is not about getting over that and moving on. Instead, we should go through the sadness and reach forward towards wholeness.

Now, I am not trying to spiritualize Bon Iver songs, in any way. Needless to say, I am a full believer in artistic expression’s ability to worship, whether meant to or not. But, I do believe this song points to a poignant part of our spiritual journey.

Like I mentioned above, we are all broken and burdened. And we all have these burdening “stacks” on our backs… “racks” that load. But there is an answer to these stacks.

If we continually try to just get over and move on from our sadness, we begin to forget that we our broken. Our forgetting will lead to a life filled with lies, mirages of healed wounds. Remember, maybe, Anna O’Connor, who spoke to us in chapel during the last few weeks of the semester? She stood before us, beautiful and whole, and yet beneath her pure skin lay a body rippled with cancer. Seventy five percent of it, actually. That is what we become when we try to just “move on” and forget our utter and helpless calamity of humanity. We become façades, wisps, unaware of our actual state.

I think about children and their infatuation with band-aids. Particularly my sister, Annie. When Annie was smaller, younger, any cut or bruise would cause her to fall into fits. She couldn’t stand the pain, however small it was, and she also couldn’t stand looking at the wound. She would beg for her favorite spider man band-aids, even if the cut wasn’t bleeding. For some reason, sticking patterns of a superhero on her skin made her feel batter. It was if the blue and red plastic fabric was the cure all. But band-aids don’t actually heal the wounds. They just cover for a while.

Often, I think, God brings us struggles. I actually don’t know how theologically sound that statement is, but in any case, whether God breathed or simply a result of our fallen humanness, hardship is often spoken of in the Bible and should not only be accepted, but also expected. But who wants to be hurt? In a natural attempt to avoid pain, we end up missing the true path to healing and freedom. Withering away from sadness, we try to be brave by moving on. We don’t want to feel so we don’t. We would rather live life the way we want, than to face the pain in our pasts. And yet, I don’t feel that this gets us anywhere. We may not feel the pain, but it doesn’t leave us, no matter how much we fool ourselves into believing it is gone. And like the song points out, jumping over the pain doesn’t actually lift away.

Rather, we have to meet our brokenness head on like the song sings of, but instead of doing it ourselves, we can rely consistently on the grace He has extended towards our pathetic state of being. By approaching the sadness, we can move towards healing and wholeness, bringing a part of that sadness with us, along for the journey. For it has, honestly, shaped us. Beginning to live with our brokenness will allow us to live in complete awe of the grace, love, and faithfulness of the Christ who died for us. And in the end, it is truly only Him who can begin to free us.

I don’t if it makes sense. But I know it has been an incredibly potent theme in my life. I have been faced time and time again with different struggles. And at first it was easy to just continually push them away, jump over them, forget they were actually there. But as they piled up, I was eventually so heavily burdened with the weight of them all, that I couldn’t move and was literally down on my knees before the Lord. As I began to recognize the “stacks” on my back, the Lord began to lift away. It was certainly painful. It still is. And I still have loads. But the Lord promises goods things to those He loves.

I think of this verse I found at the end of my summer at HoneyRock. I have mentioned before how hard it was for me. Looking back now, I realize I was trying to bear live my life solely by forgetting the load on my back and desperately trying to make it on my own. Consequently this verse hit my square between the eyes:

“Come, let us return to the Lord; for he has torn us, that he may heal us; he has struck us down, and he will bind us up. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up,
 that we may live before him.
 Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth.” Hosea 6:1-3

No matter how torn down you are, Jill, you will be built up again. But you have to accept what has been brought to you. You have to feel. You have to cry. You have to break. That is only that the Lord can begin to lift away, however the slow the process may be. But take heart! “His going out is as sure as the dawn.”

Always,
Ryn

for venetta

i needed a word today. an inspiration. a line

i needed God today. so much so that it made me hurt inside. i could literally feel myself longing for Him with an ever present desire and strength, filled with angst and pain. i could not escape the question that had been raking my mind for days now: "where is He?"

and then i thought of venetta sweet sweet venetta, whose name i wasn't even sure how to spell. (yes, i actually looked it up on google.)

she isn't directly related to me, actually. she is my mom's sister's mother-in-law, but i do not remember a time when she wasn't in my life. i saw her on random occasions, mostly my cousins' graduations, but in some ways she was somewhat of a third grandma to me. i had always appreciated her words of kindness, and i admired her deep and grounded love for the Lord.

venetta is old. almost ninety, in fact. and her struggle with osteoporosis has caused her to bend at an almost ninety degree angle. once a lady of strong, tall stature, she is now frail and petite, having shuffle along with effort if she wants to go anywhere. her voice shakes so badly that it is hard to understand her words when she is talking to you, and often, she forgets what she wanted to say next. she is no longer independent and lives in a nursing home near her daughter. it was a hard move for, i am sure, but she is firm in her faith and knows that God can use her wherever he chooses.

and yet, this lady amazes me. she loves, no... adores the Lord. even after her husband died years ago. even when she sees friend after friend pass away. even as she is so often overlooked and misunderstood, she loves the Lord. and that love still impacts those around her, including myself.

i saw her last weekend, while up visiting my grandparents and i told her, somewhat, of the struggle i have been feeling for so long. she looked up at me, with her pale blue eyes, and smiled such a kind smile that i knew she understood. "isn't it hard," she said. "when the Lord decides to put you through that?" i had to agree. she continued. "He tries and tries to get your attention, and finally puts you through something that makes you land on your knees. but you know, He is there. all the time. He is there."

i looked at her. amazed. how did she know? i asked. "because. He loves us," came the reply. so simple.

as i left the next day, she pulled me aside and hurried me to her room. (hurried is, of course, a completely relevant word.) she gave me a worn out copy of streams in the desert by Mrs. Chas E. Cowman. she told me that she thought it would help me. "i have dozens" she said, smiling. "i hope it helps you as it helped me."

and so i picked it up today, on a whim of desperation and i turned to the page titled "november 11" because it seemed so fitting.

and venetta. it helped.

you have shown me God

“When across the heart deep waves of sorrow
Break, as on a dry and barren shore;
When hope glistens with no bright tomorrow,
And the storm seems sweeping evermore;

“When the cup of every earthly gladness
Bears no taste of the life-giving stream;
And high hopes, as though to mock our sadness,
Fade and die as in some fitful dream,

“Who shall hush the weary spirit’s chiding?
Who the aching void within shall fill?
Who shall whisper of a peace abiding,
And each surging billow calmly still?

“Only He whose wounded heart was broken
With the bitter cross and thorny crown;
Whose dear love glad words of Joy had spoken,
Who His life for us laid meekly down.

“Blessed Healer, all our burdens lighten;
Give us peace, Thine own sweet peace, we pray!
Keep us near Thee till the morn shall brighten,
And all the mists and shadows flee away!”