Thursday, December 31, 2015

taking off the armor

“The original, shimmering self gets buried so deep that most of us end up hardly living out of it at all. Instead we live out all the other selves, which we are constantly putting on and taking off like coats and hats against the world’s weather.” ~Frederick Buechner

it's the last day of the year. i'm looking back, so thankful for what i've discovered, learned, and grown into. so thankful for how God has worked, patched, remoulded, renewed, restored. so grateful for His ongoing timeless presence. for the continuum of His love. amazed by His provision. in. everything. this past year was a year of surrender. open hands. closed eyes. being led. of waiting. listening. heeding, deferring, obeying. so much is given when less is taken. abundance comes with relinquishment.

there is a self, i mostly wore against my world's weather.  a self of control. of pulling myself up by my bootstraps. of false belief that i can gather myself together and will change. this version of self likes to do big things- things like new years resolutions, things like 'none of this' and 'all of that'. this self often lives in extremes and is afraid that with out bold steps nothing will happen. afraid that with out psyching itself up for the game, it will lose. this self looks to outside things to regulate inside things. this self has a plan. always.  this self prefers noise to quiet, motion to stillness.

sometimes i read a commentary on a bible story that i've heard and read over 100 times, but something stands out that hasn't before. something means more than it ever did.  today it was the story of david and goliath. most people know it. small, young, shepherd boy kills giant enemy fighter with a slingshot and a stone. it's an amazing story for lots of reasons but what spoke to me this time was david's knowledge of his shimmering self in that moment.  what spoke to me was david taking off the armor.

the king had given him all of his own heavy protective wear. helmet, breastplate, shield, mighty sword. things to help david win. to give safety. things everyone knew were needed in a battle. things no one would ever question using in a fight. but david knew himself well enough, trusted himself and his God, to know that these items were not for him. not only were they not necessary, they would actually hinder him from success. his mission would have been jeopardized had he tried to do it with other people's tools.

my eager, controlling, fear-based self would have looked at my little slingshot and animal skin covering and thought that of course i needed the kings armor. that part of me would have thought, 'who am i to think i know better?' or perhaps in not wanting to offend the king, i would have ignore my inner self's prodding, and struggled out to the battle field all weighed down with someone else's ideas of what i needed.

i don't know a lot but i know this, we are each made uniquely for a purpose that only we can accomplish, and we can only accomplish it as we are, using what we have been given . maybe most of our years are spend tripping and falling under the heaviness of other people's armor. then there are the seasons of shedding the armor- probably one piece at a time, until we finally lay down the sword of another, and pick up our slingshot. life is the process of getting to know that shimmering true self and living in it. life is for helping each other see when we can't see, who's armor we are really wearing, and reminding each other of the beauty of our simple gathered stones.

tomorrow is january 1st. the first day of 2016. it's also just another friday. a day to wake up to, just like today was. to breathe in. to be in.  to look for our shimmering selves in. to lay down our coats and hats and stand in our skin as we face the world's weather.

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

the eve of Christmas eve

it's the eve of Christmas eve and i'm so grumpy. this is bad because this is the time of the year when i really don't want to be grumpy. this is the season of light and life and joy and giving and peace. but today it feels like the season of 'hot weather, dying moaning dog next door, and "no you can't have another pack of gorillos". it feels like the season of 'i've been to 10 different stores and no one has sprinkles for Christmas cookies'. the season of 'last years ornaments were eaten by mice', and the season of 'the power goes out when we want to watch a Christmas movie'.  it's the season of 'i've been promising to make a gingerbread house and it still hasn't happened'.

this is the fourth day of no school and i'm already done. i just want some time with out needing to make lunch (i mean they just ate breakfast, three meals? really?) or approve a snack or hear whining about not having power.  i just want some time to myself with no one else around- with no one else's energy.  i can hear them now, zoe is screaming at jude. there are yard tools in front of me,  i just eyed the panga, but did the wiser thing- 20 minutes in bedrooms for quiet time.

for me this is supposed to be one of those guaranteed good times of the year. so being grumpy now, feels like the worst.

but i'm learning to stop and listen. i'm learning to inquire with in and inquire of the Lord. to pause and try to understand the feeling instead of living from the feeling. so grumpy. what does that really look like inside? if i unpack it, it looks like a lot of other things. it looks like lonely, like missing family and cold weather and maybe even snow. it looks like tired, of single parenting and then transitioning back to double parenting.  it looks like feeling suffocated by my own goals and plans.

see grumpy is usually one of those emotions that i like to blame on other people. especially my children (see paragraph 2). "if you could JUST STOP leaving your stuff everywhere.....blah blah blah" or "why is it that EVERY time i try to go to the bathroom, you need to tell me something." but grumpy is not about them. grumpy, after looking inside, is about me.

and that matters because now i can breathe and look inside again see how i can tend to myself . because we all need tending, not just our kids, our selves. so i'm sitting outside and i'm letting myself feel sad that i'm 8000 miles away from my parents (all 4 of them) and siblings and extended family. i'm letting myself be sad that the weather is hot and nothing outside looks like my idea of Christmas. i'm recognizing that while this won't happen for at least the next 2 days, i need to carve out some alone time- as in silent retreat time.  and i'm trying to allow it to be okay if we never make the gingerbread house. breathe.

then there is an opening. a space that was missing before this process of interior listening happened. that space makes room to be thankful, and thankful is the opposite of grumpy.

there is a lot to be thankful for. tomorrow's Christmas party with a whole bunch of people who get the missing family, warm weather, sprinkle frustration. thankful for this breeze and the equatorial beauty that i love 11.5 months of the year. thankful for those 4 kids i like to blame my grumpy on. their laughter and creativity, their growth and insights, and just their lives. thankful that i have a partner to parent them with. and most real and relevant of all, thankful for Jesus who's birth looked nothing like my winter scene Christmas time advent calendar with glitter (which by the way, is not sold here).  the founder of Christmas time, before santa and snow and cookies with sprinkles became a thing. Jesus who knows the feeling of homesick, and tired and overextended, and even grumpy. i'm thankful for the entrance of Emmanuel, God with us, the giver of the most treasured parts of this season: light and life, joy and peace.