one-third complete

if you can believe it, i just got back from dropping off two bound copies of my business plan at school . . . two days early! i feel like i've just given birth, as i have a somewhat numb euphoria swirling through my body and my brain that is making all the labor of the past two months fade into a fuzzy memory.

i'm going to celebrate with a blended coffee drink at a local coffee shop while giving myself the freedom of a creative afternoon to plan my mini-book. i'll leave the presentation planning for a different day . . . today is about letting my mind wander, free-associate, and create something new.

update: okay, so the afternoon of mind-wandering and free association hasn't worked out exactly as planned. i've been procrastinating, big time, and trying not to feel guilty about it without succeeding too well. for instance, while doing laundry, i call out through the house, "i have not gotten started on my book yet!" to which kirk calls back, "but you finished your business plan!" oh yeah. i guess i did. and that is worth celebrating and taking some rest in response.

out of pocket

 

who will rise up for me against the evildoers?
who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?
unless the Lord had been my help,
my soul would soon have settled in silence.
if i say, "my foot slips,"
your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up.
in the multitude of my anxieties within me,
your comforts delight my soul.
-- psalm 94:16-19


hi, friends.

 

i am in the last days of my business program and will likely be quiet here for the next week or so. my final draft of the business plan is due next wednesday, i will give my presentation to the faculty panel next friday, and my second thesis project, which i have decided will be a mini-book (perhaps 50 pages) on how to love and lead in an imperfect world, is due a week from tuesday.

it's a lot to accomplish in a short span of time, and i've been contending with many of my old demons this week, which has not made progress much of an accessible commodity. pray for me, if you think of it, that our God would break through the lies that grip me and bring his light to my soul and his easy yoke to my shoulders.

quick update: i sat at my desk today and hammered away at this and happened, without my even realizing it, to finish exactly half of the final draft of this business plan. that's half of a project that i've been working at for what seems like an eternity that i can actually say is done, finito, over, no more changes in this incarnation of its lifespan. whoa, nelly! how did that happen? oh, it must have been all the prayers my loved ones (including you!) have been offering up for me. thank you so much for your care for me in this place. i'm starting to see light at the end of this long tunnel! i may even be inspired to post more updates as i hit other milestones in this upcoming week! :-)

love,
christianne

just what i needed

sigh.

as the title of this post suggests, this past week in the virgin islands was exactly what i needed. wow.

it wasn't until the third day of our trip, as i was bounding down the outside steps from our room to the living area on the main deck, that it hit me: i hadn't thought once about home. it was like i'd stepped into some alternate reality in which all that existed was the exact present moment. what's more, any attempt to think about home, school, florida, the outside world, or even our cats proved futile. my mind, my senses, and the fullness of my being seemed able only to comprehend the exact moment in which i found myself. it was a heavenly freedom.

on our first full day in st. thomas, we made the happy discovery of lindquist beach. we also discovered something truly terrific to do that we referred to for the rest of the week simply as floating.

it's simple, really. all you do is blow up a full-body raft, walk into the clear, warm water, and paddle yourself out to the buoy. then, you lay back in the raft, close your eyes, and let the gentle waves rock you back and forth like a baby. with the warm sun on your face and the cool water lapping against the fingertips you drop into the water, you will find the rest of the world falls away. everything has stilled. you wonder, in fact, if anything else in the world but that moment even exists. the weight of every possible concern floats off your shoulders, your chest, your abdomen, and your legs, all the way down to the tips of your toes, and you become simply: weightless.

the eight of us chartered a boat the next day, and we wove our way through many of the u.s. and british virgin islands. our favorite captain for these chartered boat trips, captain raymond, anchored us offshore of some snorkeling caves for a spell, and i enjoyed playing around with my camera [and the a-m-a-z-i-n-g camera one of our friends had brought with him] to practice what i'm learning about digital photography these days. 

later that afternoon, we docked at a private island for lunch and enjoyed yummy BBCs [the ultimate island frozen drink] and terrific service by an island woman named susan who told us about some of the famous people she's met in her time of working there. she was really sweet and enjoyed teasing our friend tom by calling him by a totally different name the entire time we were there, as though he were some famous person trying to keep his real identity a fast-held secret. of course, he loved this. he ate it up, really. can't you tell [below] he's the kind of guy who would totally eat that up?

most of the other days, it was beach, beach, and more beach. sapphire beach is a group favorite. it's the beach that inspired tom and cindy to purchase property several years ago, and it is known to host great views both above and below the water. [in other words, it's also a great beach for snorkeling.] even the ducks cannot help but enjoy this place, and can you really blame them?

personally, i enjoyed renting a chair on this beach, plopping down into it, and relaxing the entire time with a really good book that without fail turned into a really good nap.

our trip was earmarked on both ends by two rather bizarre incidents. first, kirk and i spent four hours in the ER on our first night in st. thomas. this was due to some shooting head pain on the back right of my skull that had started the night before we left on our trip and had intensified in duration and frequency by the time we arrived the next day.

that was kinda scary, not only to be in the hospital in a foreign country but also to wonder what the heck was wrong with my head. i felt like someone was taking the sharp, pointy end of a letter opener and jamming it into the back of my skull every 20 minutes . . . then every 10 minutes . . . then every 15-45 seconds, and then, toward the end, kinda pushing and turning that pointy end around in there for a bit. [my apologies for the somewhat graphic description, but this is truly the best way to explain how it felt to be me for those 24 hours.]

after an excruciatingly long and painful four hours in the ER, which included an arm shot and my first-ever CT scan, this mysterious pain was determined to be merely a tension headache for which they prescribed some pretty strong drugs. [note to self on future trips to the islands: take the medication warnings seriously and do not combine these drugs with a BBC drink. otherwise, you will find yourself really loopy and really sleepy on that special chartered boat trip, unable to truly enjoy the lunch on that special private island or snorkel through those special beautiful caves for which we had anchored offshore.]

making for what seemed like a planned bookend to the ER trip on the front end of the trip was a blowout tire on the back end of our trip . . . at midnight . . . on the way home from the airport . . . in a not-so-nice section of downtown orlando . . . when we were already really tired from a full day of travel and wanted only to be home in bed. but thankfully, we felt ourselves protected from true harm again, as we were able to maneuver off the freeway safely, find a well-lit place to park shortly off the ramp, and be serviced by a AAA towtruck driver from the bronx who couldn't have been more pleasant, considerate, and funny. thanks be to God for that!

hello, my lovelies

kirk and i returned home from st. thomas last night, and i look forward to sharing pictures and stories with you soon. for now, however, i'll just share this lovely word doodle of my blog. wordle is a service that creates visual word maps of any website, including personal blogs, to showcase the words most used and rank their use by size. i find it simply lovely that the word heart carries the greatest prevalence on this two-years-young blog of mine. how appropriate.

p.s. you can click the photo to enlarge and explore.

accepting imperfection

at mount calvary, november 2005. photo by kirkum.

this past thursday was my last day of traditional classes, and even though it has been four days, i still cannot believe it's over. i don't mean to sound dramatic, but the events of this past month have felt somewhat traumatic. my heart feels like it is just catching up to what happened, and i have cried hard tears at least once a day since it ended, and sometimes more. many times i find myself sitting in a wounded daze, staring into nothing. i start to wonder if i have what it takes to pick back up and start again with one last and final month that starts tomorrow, but then i find myself trying to receive the permission not to worry that far into the future. tomorrow has worries enough of its own. today is meant for rest.

the hardest part of this past month is how utterly alone i've felt. as much as i can tell those in my life that this month's demands have been quite hard, those words only communicate so much. no one has walked in these shoes, sat in this chair, stared at this screen, or had to come up with answers to fill this white space and these little spreadsheet squares for something that has come to mean so much. and as much as i'd like, in theory, to tackle the challenge of expressing just what factors conspired to make all of it so hard, i just don't have it in me. and to be honest, i fear that what i'll hear on the other side of that great effort -- the "i'm sorry it was so hard" and "congratulations on finally finishing" that might sound with good intentions but a subtle dismissive air -- will hurt more than they'll hurt now, on this side of the emotional and mental strain of exposing my heart in that way, when all my hurting, raw heart really desires is to be held, loved, and truly understood.

so for now, i'll just say that what i turned in on my last day of classes, what comprised my first full draft of the business plan i'm creating here at the end of this venture, was not a perfect entity. it does not reflect the fullness of my potential. it has great big gaping holes that i am aware of and great big gaping holes i don't yet even know exist. some sections repeat themselves. other sections are woefully slim. still others instill me with a hard-won pride, and there are reasons for all of these things. i know many parts of it will change in the coming month ahead, but i'm thankful that this last month of refining it into its final form will be spent in the safe and simple quiet of my home, where i'll have room to think and imagine and just breathe.

what i turned in at the end of that haul is imperfect, but it was the best i could do. and given the circumstances that were stacked against me in this case, i have chosen to be okay with that. i have chosen the imperfection, knowing the risks i took that made this road so hard are worth applauding in their own right. at least, that's what i try to remember right now. i try to remember what kirk tells me: that taking risks and being imperfect because of them is infinitely more interesting than never having risked anything at all in order to hold caution and the status-quo with a seeming perfection that is dull, lifeless, and safe. i am leaning these days into the beautiful imperfection of being human.

toward a definition of the heart

a little bit of diva sweetness for you

i use the word heart a lot in this space. sometimes i use it without even thinking twice about it, so integrated a part of my belief system and way of life has it become. but other times i'm incredibly self-conscious about using it so much. i'm afraid that in using the word heart so much around here, i give the impression of being some kind of sentimental sap who bursts into tears at the sight of white fluffy bunnies. (for the record, i don't.)

i was reminded of this today when i got to a section of henri nouwen's way of the heart that talks about prayer, and specifically prayer of the heart versus prayer of the mind.

it's a great week for me to be meditating on the subject of prayer, and especially the distinctions between prayer of the heart and prayer of the mind, as i've entered into a special prayer season this week with my close girlfriends about the ministry to women that God is entrusting to us at our church. after an evening spent with some very special women on sunday night concerning this very thing, the group of us girls agreed to fast from analysis and planning this week, including a refrain from even conversing with each other or our husbands about the subject of this ministry at all, turning ourselves instead totally over to God in prayer with nothing but open hands, no agenda.

it's a hard place to be, prayer. especially when your mind is spinning as fast with questions and thoughts and ideas about where things are headed, like mine is. this is why i'm glad henri nouwen is teaching me about prayer this week, and also why i've identified so closely with the temptation to pray just with my mind. when i pray with my mind, i find myself talking at God instead of talking with him. when i pray with my mind, i find myself working through all the analysis and planning and self-talk i said i wouldn't do, and i find myself too impatient to sit quietly and listen. and none of that can, in my mind, even be called prayer.

but prayer of the heart? this is something that is helping to naturally slow me down, to make me more present with God in the moment, to talk with him instead of at or around him, to get in touch with what is truly there inside of me, and to bring all of that, no matter what it is, into the open as he sits there with me, present to all of it. there, we truly converse. there, the greatest concerns of my heart truly become a matter we share together.

i share this to share a bit of where i am this week and a bit of what i'm learning about prayer. but i also share this to better define what is encapsulated in the word heart when i am referencing it so regularly here on my blog. please hear my heart (wink, wink) and know that instead of sentimentality, and in fact far from it, i rather mean along the lines of the following when i talk about the importance of knowing and honoring my heart or holding up the painfully beautiful hearts of others as we walk along through this world together:

prayer is standing in the presence of God with the mind in the heart; that is, at that point of our being where there are no divisions or distinctions and where we are totally one. there God's Spirit dwells and there the great encounter takes place. there heart speaks to heart, because there we stand before the face of the Lord, all-seeing, within us.

we have to realize that here the word heart is used in its full biblical meaning. . . . the word heart in the jewish-christian tradition refers to the source of all physical, emotional, intellectual, volitional, and moral energies.

from the heart arise unknowable impulses as well as conscious feelings, moods, and wishes. the heart, too, has its reasons and is the center of perception and understanding. finally, the heart is the seat of the will: it makes plans and comes to good decisions. thus the heart is the central and unifying organ of our personal life. our heart determines our personality, and is therefore not only the place where God dwells but also the place to which satan directs his fiercest attacks. it is this heart that is the place of prayer. the prayer of the heart is a prayer that directs itself to God from the center of the person and thus affects the whole of our humanness.

i'll have more thoughts to share about the heart later this week, but for now i thought this a good place to share some helpful thoughts on prayer and foundational thoughts on heart. love to you all this night . . . and grace.

my space

welcome to the little space i have come to call my own in our little home.

on most mornings, if i'm smart, i wake early to brew a pot of hot water for tea and settle into this quiet corner for about an hour. if i'm even smarter, i will resist the urge to open the computer lid to check blogs and e-mail, reminding myself that this time is reserved for opening my heart to God. i will sit with a psalm or two and pray quietly, and then i will read a small section of two books by henri nouwen that are teaching me much these days about silence and prayer, and about the selfless way of christ.

i have come to need this morning time spent in my quiet little space each day. on the mornings i do get up to spend time here before formally entering back into the dailyness of the world, i feel such a tremendous difference in the tenor of my day. i carry a greater peace with me, a greater sense of centeredness, and the little gremlins that often tear at my heart seem to flee far from me. i'm always so grateful for the time i spent with God in that space, and i'm always aware of having missed it when i don't make the time for it. it has become a discipline, but also a gift.

as a sidenote, i'm positive this little desk wanted to be discovered by us. back when kirk and i had the conversation that led to our decision to stay in florida, we decided to start investing more of ourselves into furnishing our little house. this little desk was a great find we discovered on the first day we went on the hunt, but it was a total surprise. not only was it nestled in a crowded corner of the very last antique shop we visited that day, but it was also covered in just the kind of trinkets that normally give me the willies. somehow, though, i was drawn closer to the desk in that shop and became completely dazzled by its beauty.

i love the simplicity of its basic design combined with the intricacy of the wood carvings on its sides. i love its thin, spindly legs. i love the darkness of the wood. i love that it is totally feminine and totally me.

as a bonus, the owner of the shop wanted to sell it. for this early-1900s antique desk that was priced at $225, we got it for just $100. what a steal!

love letter to my brain

if you were my brain, you would be screaming right now.

you would feel so tired from imagining and re-imagining so many possibilities this month, drawing them out to their natural conclusions, then, at my whim, uprooting them and starting completely over, rethinking every particular and related implication of that change, all the while wondering, ultimately, what serves a woman's heart best and most tenderly, and wondering, too, if i have the strength to pursue what my heart tells me is the answer to that question instead of what my greed and pride tell me would make a bigger splash and seemingly impress more people and seemingly validate my own worth.

you would feel exhausted and frustrated by the constant self-doubt i inflict upon myself, by the ways i do not believe in my own heart through this process, by the manifold ways that has begun to tax you, my brain, beyond your tipping point because of my constant demands to play and re-play new and tentative scenarios in my mind, of the way that forces you to demolish what were once firm and trusted foundations stored away in there, demolishing them with a twenty-five-foot crane because you have learned enough by now of your own limits, because you know you cannot hold multiple sprawling concepts in tension inside of you at one and the exact same time.

you would have learned by now you cannot trust the peace i seem to make with myself at night about which direction i'll decisively go, which decisions i'll finally settle upon, knowing even better than i do that this peace becomes nothing but a vapor in the morning and that the decision in question has once again transformed into its exact opposite while you and i slipped into a hard-fought rest.

and while you would be letting out a huge breath and beginning to relax into what seems to be, finally, a real decision today on that cornerstone foundation on which everything else must build, that breath you are letting out vents through thinly pursed lips and that relaxing slouch is actually you on tenterhooks, while your eyes dart side to side every few moments and your neck gets a crick from bracing yourself against me and my proclivity to changing you, my mind.

and besides, even if i really have settled into this decision today, this decision that chooses the hearts of women over financial gain, that aligns with the nature of true growth and not the pressure of a fast-moving world, that finds me listening to and choosing what my heart has quietly been trying to tell me for many days, even if this winds up sticking as the reality you and i will work together to assemble, you, as my brain, would be angry and scared because it means starting completely over one last time, rethinking every single aspect, reconsidering every single angle, rewriting every single section, and reworking every single number, none of which you believe you have the capacity or strength to do after all you have expended on behalf of this project already.

if you were my brain, you would be screaming and about to drop to the floor in a delirium of shock right now. and i would find myself, in repentance, writing you a love letter that goes something like this . . .

dear brain,

i am so sorry.

you have in me a broken person, and that means you get a crap deal from me so much of the time.

it is my brokenness that makes me push you beyond your limits. in my brokenness, i quake with terror at the prospect of being called out, unprepared and vulnerable to ridicule from anyone on the outside of us. in my brokenness, i believe other people's view of us is always right and that our opinions and decisions are never right if they conflict with someone else's.

and so, in my brokenness, i cannot handle one single ounce of imperfection. somehow, in my brokenness, i believe this will be what saves us. it is what promotes my incessant demands that you imagine and re-imagine entire contingent realities, as if it were possible for you to do this perfectly or maintain this demand indefinitely, as if it were even my right to ask this of you.

i am sorry, brain, for asking more of you than i have a right to ask. i am sorry for pushing you to the point of craziness this month. i am sorry for disrespecting your boundaries and treating you like an object that i have the right to control to the point of cruelty. i am sorry for hurting you.

i don't want to be broken, brain. i don't like that i cause you such pain because of it.

i wonder if you feel angry that i seem to have abandoned all the notions of grace and gentleness and acceptance you and i have learned to receive and to share over the past several years together, after several more years spent learning how and why this pattern existed in me in the first place. after such a hard-won victory over those uncompromising and tyrannous forces, we discovered life and joy and freedom. we learned to love each other well, to coexist in at least a semblance of the way we must have been intended to, and even to love others and offer them this same hope of rest and peace.

yet here we are, struggling with those same forces, you getting blunted and beaten down by my own tyrannous edge. and for that, i am so sorry, brain.

the truth is, i will always be broken. we will always face the possibility of this fallback into the old, broken attempts to survive. i will sometimes be slow to see this pattern has emerged, that the old forces are at work in us again.

but know this, brain. we have grown far enough along for me to know that other path to perfection and invulnerability is a mirage. it may take a while for me to see that i've been seduced yet again by these pressures, but in my deepest core, i am not in favor of going after them again. what we have learned these past years together is real. it is my choice for us. but i will not always choose it perfectly . . . and that's because, as you and i have learned, perfection is impossible and not even the point.

please forgive me, brain, for taxing you so hard this month. please forgive me for doubting who we are and the strength that exists inside of us. now that i'm even more aware of this and how much pain i have been bringing you, i seek to honor you with gentleness and a slow and deliberate pace. i love you and am thankful we've been joined together in this life.

in renewed grace,
christianne

turning and returning

i'll start by saying that i'm living in a whirlwind. you know that business plan i wrote about in my last post? well, it is such hard work. every day in class, new worksheets and spreadsheets and whole segments of my plan draft are due. it's hard and it's demanding and the days feel like a blur, and i'm barely keeping my head up.

whereas last week, when i wrote this, i was living in a dreaming and creative and thoughtful and inquisitive place about all this, this week has felt like an all-out battle zone. i woke up early monday morning to work on a new section of the plan and just could not get my mind to go at all. i felt blocked and paralyzed. all i could hear inside my head were all the ways that i would fail. my mind kept flashing to the presentation i will make to the faculty panel at the end of this program, the presentation that will actually allow them to confer me with my degree, and all i could see in my mind's eye was disappointment written all over their faces and disbelief that this plan is any good or that anyone would ever want anything to do with it at all.

somehow, with kirk's help, i pushed through and got my assignments done that day, but i still felt wearied and beaten down by it. and with the pace of this month's requirements, i've continued to feel more of the same through the rest of the week. weary. beaten down. overwhelmed. wondering if this idea is really any good. operating in a pretty huge vacuum. throwing daggers against the wall in the dark. keeping on with all of it at a haggard pace because the course load just keeps speeding along.

but there are glimmers of hope. like tuesday morning, when i woke up in the wee hours of the morning again and found this beautiful illustration staring back at me from the screen of my computer.

questions/answers piece by penelope dullaghan

immediately, my eyes were drawn to the words making their way down the right side of the page . . . words like i can't, afraid, not an expert, scared, and don't know how . . . questions like what if i'm blank? what if people think i'm dumb? what if i'm really a fraud? and what if it's just a big flopper? . . . judgments like not good enough and tick-tock-tick-tock. i could hardly believe i was staring at a piece that voiced every single fear and judgment and every shaming thought and oppressive criticism i'd been carrying with me for the past few days. i could hardly believe someone knew my own head and heart so intimately, enough to create such a delicate yet elaborate illustration that expressed all of my insides so completely.

but then my eye was drawn to the left side of the page . . . the side that said why not try? what if it turns out to be fun? and how about letting go of the outcome? the side that said you're going to die at some point, so why not? and boldly invited me to live daringly.

the more i stared at this painting, the more i noticed. for one, i noticed that instead of staring straight ahead, caught directly between these opposing voices, the girl was turned in the direction of possibility, facing the open-ended thoughts that invited her up into the expanse of hope. then i noticed that the tinges of color on her cheeks even reflected the two tones of voices inside her head, one lighter and one darker, but that it was the softer-toned cheek that was turned toward hope and grace and playfulness. and then i picked up on the contrast in sound, noticing the cacophony of thoughts on the right are all shapes and sizes and just a chaos of jumbled noise but that the inviting voices from the left are larger, more full, more cohesive and complete. i don't know about you, but it's those crazy, tangled-up, right-side voices that get my attention every time i look at this piece. there's something in its design that pulls my eye to that side first, and all i can do is focus on the noise. it takes a conscious effort to pull away from those thoughts, just like in life, to attend to the opposite thoughts. but after that effort is made, it is those left-side thoughts that actually inspire me with such invitation to play, to laugh, to try, to experiment, to wonder . . . to let myself just be human. (interesting sidenote: from the girl's perspective in the painting, it's actually the opposite. the open-ended questions filled with wonder and anticipation are ballooning on the right side of her brain, where all the creative sparks inside of us fly and zoom around. all the crazy, judgmental thoughts are situated on her left side, the side of our brain that's analytical and processes the logic of what we think, say, and do.)

i stared at the illustration of this girl, marveling at the two sides of herself, and i saw quickly that this was indeed the two sides of my own self, that the capacity for both shame and grace exist inside of me, and that right now, in this moment, i could perhaps choose to offer myself the merciful way.

with all the conviction with which i wrote about beautiful humanness in my last post, i confess that i turned against my own beautiful humanness this week. with all the pushing back against certainty and control and surety i preached in my comments on that last post, i confess those are exactly the kinds of things i grasped for this week. in the midst of a penetrating fear of failure and overwhelming judgment from the outside world, i shamed myself to be better, try harder, get it together, and just be smarter. i didn't care for the tender parts. i didn't make room for mistakes. instead, i turned against myself and tried to make myself immortal . . . instead of allowing myself to be exactly what i am: simply and beautifully human.

beautiful humanness

we are called to speak to people not where they have it together but where they are aware of their pain, not where they are in control but where they are trembling and insecure, not where they are self-assured and assertive but where they dare to doubt and raise hard questions; in short, not where they live in the illusion of immortality but where they are ready to face their broken, mortal, and fragile humanity.

 

from the selfless way of christ by henri nouwen


these days, i am devoting most of my time to finishing out the last two months of my master's degree program by creating an original business plan. i have chosen a product concept that empowers women to discover and embrace their authentic identity, and to learn to do this while walking alongside other women committed to that same brave work in their lives.

 

this means i've been thinking a lot about how identities are formed, what brings us to a place of questioning the authenticity of those identities, and how we move toward greater understanding and truth-telling in our worlds in this area.

that's kind of a mouthful, but i guess it boils down to this: i'm spending most of the waking hours of my days thinking about a woman's heart, how it ticks, what moves it this way and that, how she develops a sense of self and self-worth, how she musters the courage to face hard questions and speak brave answers, how she feels she is seen, heard, and wholeheartedly embraced. i have such compassion for each of us along this journey of life and growth, because i, too, know how difficult it is and how great the resistance we face (both internally and externally) and how often we can feel that we're merely floundering about, at best. how do we live in this place? how does growth and recognition and transformation truly happen?

i love that my next degree program in spiritual formation will grow my thoughts deeper in this direction.

i'm also spending a lot of time these days in really rich books about how silence and solitude strengthen the heart and create still points of grace and truth before God, about how fragile and beautiful is the humanity that connects us, about how much there is to be learned in the story of each of our journeys, about how freshly awakened we feel when others walk with us hand in hand.

in light of all this dreaming and creating and thinking and reading, the quote above from henri nouwen perfectly expresses the conviction i am coming to hold for the meaning of life, flowing from a real experience of God's grace, truth, and love. i'm coming to believe that our aim is to accept with grace the limits of our humanity and offer this same gift to other travelers we meet along the way. this is love, and this is grace, and this is where God's ministry is found.

woot-woot!

kirk and i came home from an incredible concert experience with jakob dylan tonight (more to come on this later) to the news that barack obama has secured the democratic nomination for president. this news deserves a hearty woot-woot!

photo by barack obama on flickr

i, for one, have been zinging around the house in a euphoric cloud, whooping it up at the top of my lungs, and just generally being a silly face. i'm so stoked! 

i have hesitated to post political thoughts on this blog in recent months, as i don't want to turn readers off or seem in-your-face or pushy. that would certainly never be my intent. but the truth is, i'm a huge admirer of barack obama, and he has had my vote for many months now. 

i've followed this primary season with unabated vigor, not for the typical history-making reasons but because i've been reading obama's books, learning who he is, and following his leadership of his campaign with increasing interest. simply put, his ideology and approach have turned my head. for the first time in my life, i truly care what happens. i want to do my part to make a difference.

goodness knows, obama is not perfect. i'm not trying to claim that he is (and let's face it, none of the candidates thus far could ever claim to be, either). but he carries himself with great dignity and grace. he treats others, even his worst critics, with the same. he believes we all have a part to play in the making of this nation. and i want someone with his principles and vision leading me, and leading us.

so, in short, here are 10 quick reasons barack obama has my vote . . . 

he embodies leadership. he has run an exceptional campaign. he has invited the american people into the political process. he is committed to honesty and transparency in washington. he doesn't give easy answers. in fact, he'll give you the hard answers if they are the honest-to-goodness truth. he speaks his convictions. he listens. he's a forward thinker. he's got confidence, verviness, and guts. and, what's more, he has class.

a visit to love

christianne & kirsten, january 2008

i love this photo of me and the lovely kirsten-girl. it speaks so much . . . laughter, closeness, friendship, love. there's a easiness between us. can you feel it? you'd never know this shot was taken on the first day we spent together in real life since blogging reconnected us over a year ago. it's pretty amazing what a blog can do.

speaking of what a blog can do, it can communicate the raw truth about a hurting heart. big questions. deafening silence. the pain of bodily confusion. an ecstatic journey turned solemn. lots of wondering. sitting in quiet. looking around. falling down. full, unapologetic tears.

all things my kirsten-girl has been feeling these days in mighty large doses . . . while i look on, helpless but for prayer and conversation offered from a far-felt distance of more than 3000 miles. washington to florida. too far. so hard.

just for now, though, because our God is lavish.

today i had the full joy of calling this dear friend to share the news: i just booked my flight. been checking on flights for days. the ticket price on this particular handful of days is, for some unknown reason, low. it even sunk $30 lower this very morning. kirk agrees this one's a no-brainer. here i come, friend. we'll be together soon.

and so, in a period of approximately two and a half months, i'll be seeing this beautiful girl once more. it's a visit to love . . . for a friend who needs all the love our God and her friends have to offer these days. love you, girl. love you so much.

kiva love

some time ago, when we were taking a really useful finance class for our master's degrees here at full sail, kirk and i both learned about an organization called kiva that provides a way for everyday people like you and me to help fund business loans to individuals living in third-world countries. these can be people running established businesses who need extra capital to expand their existing product offerings, staff size, or inventory, or these can be people who want to start something new to help improve the quality of their lives through their established trade and abilities.

what's interesting about kiva is that it's in the business of making loans, rather than donating free money. i like the feeling of empowerment that gives the individuals who receive the loans, like they are receiving our faith in their character and their trade to keep making a living so that they can steadily pay back the loan.

these are short-term loans that are provided by the collective good will of many, many people. let me tell you how it works by sharing the story of ludmila.

this is ludmila yenina. she lives in the ukraine, where she is married and has one daughter. for two years, she has been running a nail care salon in a very popular area of town that attracts many new clients. she has invested $3000 in her business in the last two years, and she currently makes a profit of $1000 per month.

what first drew me to ludmila was her smile. isn't it great? then i learned the name of her nail center is mriya, which translates "dream." i loved that, too.

but the clincher was learning the following about who ludmila is:

ludmila has a unique ability to understand people and build relationships with her customers. moreover, she can generate new business ideas and handle stress very well.

i loved learning that ludmila instinctively knows how to care for people, but that she also knows how to run a business. both are essential for someone in a service-based industry, don't you think? of course, knowing me, what drew me to her the most was getting that little glimpse into her heart by learning how she cares for her customers.

but here's the amazing part. when i found ludmila's profile page last night, when i was hunting around for just the right person to help with my first-ever kiva loan, i saw that about 10 people had already contributed to ludmila's loan request of $1,075. together, they had contributed about $350 of this amount. after my small contribution of $25, she still needed $700.

what's amazing to me is that this morning, less than 24 hours later, i learned that the balance of the loan had already been fully funded. what's more, the entire loan amount had already been transferred to ludmila's account in the ukraine. whoa! talk about a great way to learn firsthand the power of this great organization that is kiva . . . $700 in less than 24 hours?! i checked back on her loan page and saw that about 9 people had come along behind me since about 11 o'clock last night to contribute that last $700 chunk. wow.

i really thought it would take quite a long time to get the balance of ludmila's loan funded; i anticipated checking the current loaned amount quite regularly, cheering her on as the number slowly inched upward. i was blown away to learn that all the money she needed was secured already this morning and that her loan had already been transferred into her account, moving it into active status. now, instead of watching the loan funds accrue to reach the amount she needed, i can watch the progress of her repayment of the loan back to all of us, which will be fully repaid in 8 months.

it feels so good to be a part of something like this, to know that ludmila is over on the other side of the world right now, thrilled and thankful to have just received the monies she needs to help improve her business and provide even more favorably for her family. i love knowing what her smile looks like in this exact moment. and it feels good, too, to know this was a collective effort among 20 strangers living all over the world, who decided to play a part, big or small, in helping to make it happen because they care.

as i share on my kiva profile page that i created last night, after contributing to this process for the very first time: i loan because i admire bravery. ludmila is a brave, strong woman, and i honor her right now.

feeling bittersweet

just over a month ago, kirk and i shared a conversation that began with the question, "what do you think you'd like to do in this upcoming year if we end up staying in florida longer than expected?"

he had posed the question, but it was one i'd already begun thinking about in the previous week. as you know, we had come back from our california trip a little bewildered and unsure how everything would actually work out for us to move there. in addition to that, i recently shared how so much has been happening in new relationships here, and opportunities to serve have begun to ripen. with both of these forces at work, i'd already begun pondering the possibility that God was doing something here, that we needed to pay attention, that maybe the place to be, for now, was here.

this was so hard to even think about. after going through a whole process in february of realizing my heart is made for sitting with people in their journeys, of pondering aloud and in prayer about the work of spiritual direction and dreaming newfangled dreams about a house that opens its arms to those on quiet and sacred pilgrimage, and of taking such painstaking care in an application process for spiritual formation training that was daunting, grueling, and yet redemptive . . . after all of this, think in another direction?

it was hard, but we couldn't deny the painful realities of a hard-hit economy and much higher cost of living on the west coast. we couldn't deny that the tropical sanctuary of winter park and the idyllic haven of our home was beckoning us even deeper every day. and, deep down, i could not help noting the great irony of planning a move across this big wide country to enroll in a graduate program that would train me to do the kinds of things i'm already beginning to do through relationships and opportunities at my church right now. what irony, this.

so on that afternoon when kirk posed that question to me, i turned to him, having already considered how i would most want to spend the coming year of my life in florida, if florida it was indeed going to be. i told him: i would want to invest wholeheartedly with the girls in whatever this ministry with them is trying to become, and i would want to enroll in the online spiritual formation program at spring arbor.

since i knew it was possible we were going to stay here, and since i also knew that this is what i would most definitely be doing if we did, i hopped online as soon as we got home that afternoon and filled out the application for spring arbor right then and there. then i updated my FAFSA information on the government federal aid website so that my information would also be sent to spring arbor for student loan consideration. then i e-mailed the admissions director at spring arbor and introduced myself, saying my application and FAFSA information had been submitted.

this was on a saturday afternoon, but do you know what happened next? the admissions director e-mailed me right back! he said my application had already reached him and then asked if i had any questions. he even gave me his business cell phone number to call at any time. whoa, nelly. things were moving on a fast track here.

after this, i needed to select three references. i thought about it for a little bit and then e-mailed three wonderful people with my request. one of them was none other than our very own terri, from blogland.

within 30 minutes, terri had written back to say yes. first thing monday morning, the person i had asked to be my work-related reference said yes. and on monday afternoon, i just happened to see in the hallway at school the woman i'd asked to be my academic reference, and she said yes, too. all three references were e-mailed or faxed to spring arbor within just a handful of days.

meanwhile, i had three new essays to write to complete my application. i sat down with them for a good 3-4 hours on wednesday night of that week and was able to complete them in one sitting. (thankfully, some of the groundwork for these essays had already been laid with the essays i'd written for my ISF application in the previous month.)

i could hardly believe how much had transpired in just five short days, but if you can believe it, there's more.

i had known about the spring arbor program for at least a year, but my hesitation in considering that school alongside ISF was the fact that it was an online degree program in spiritual formation and leadership. an online program . . . in spiritual formation. something about that notion just didn't sit well with me. the work of the heart runs in such deep waters, but how deeply can you swim in those waters if you're doing it all online?

you can see where this is going, can't you? i mean, look at where we are right now. we're talking to each other in an online space. we're talking about deep questions and concerns and convictions of the heart. we're sharing stories. we're being honest, even if it hurts. we're wrestling hard, and we're celebrating hard. we're loving one another across the miles and through the medium of a computer screen. some of us have met, but most of us haven't. and yet . . . don't you feel, to some degree, we know each other? that meeting in person would be like encountering an old friend we've already known forever?

that's how it feels to me, at least. except that over this past year, and even up to this point through the application process, i still felt unsure about the thought of this online program at spring arbor. that's why i didn't apply sooner. that's why i only considered ISF when i was looking for graduate programs in this subject.

so when the admissions guy asked if i had any questions, i asked if i could talk on the phone with a current student or alumni from the program. he said of course, and then connected me up with a girl named valerie. but it was just a few minutes into our phone conversation that the truth of all this that i just shared finally struck me: that i already know real and vibrant community can form in online spaces, especially when those participating are intentional and committed to it, and especially when those people are gathered around matters of formative spiritual journey.

i could hardly believe the realization i was having in that moment. it was like i could see the past two years in one snapshot, the time i've spent with this blogging community crystallizing into a preparation and a proving ground that culminated in this exact moment: God had prepared me for this.

whoa. freaking. nelly.

it took about two weeks to learn that i'd been accepted. when i got my welcome packet in the mail, i spent about an hour poring over all of it and sharing bits and pieces with kirk as i went.

all of this is a big secret i've been holding close, about to burst with, wanting to tell all of you . . . but i didn't feel the freedom to do so. and that's because i was still waiting for word from ISF on whether i'd been accepted there, too. i just learned this past thursday that i was. both of us were, actually. this was really big news.

there aren't many ways to describe how it felt to get that call from ISF after all of this, after this long journey, after what it has meant to me all along, after this settling realization that florida is what we have chosen, at least for now. but the feeling (and word) i keep coming back to is bittersweet.

it feels sweet because i love ISF and what they stand for. they have an amazing faculty and a great community. i know i would have received outstanding training and a wonderful experience there. it feels so good to have been invited to be a part of that.

but the bittersweet feeling is the letting go of that. it's the weirdness of having thought with everything in me earlier this year that we were heading to california this summer. all those dreams for that ministry house and thinking it was plopped down somewhere in orange county, california, and all that. being close to family and california friends again. letting go of all these things i thought were true. letting go of all that sureness we'd had. letting go of the dream for ISF as a part of my life, at least for now. it makes the sweet so bitter.

but when i turn my mind to what we're choosing instead, that makes all the difference. i think about what's going on with the new friends i've been making. i think about the blessing of our beautiful and very affordable house and how much we love winter park and the lakes and the trees and the stunning beauty. i think about so many new opportunities happening here. and i think about spring arbor. it's so surprising to me what spring arbor has become . . . something that actually thrills and excites me, just to think about it, because of my experience with this blogging community and how deeply connection can form between people who are intentional about it in an online space. the chance to travel to michigan once a year (this is required for the program every january -- yikes, it's going to be freezing!), not to mention the chance to study in greater depth an area that has become so fundamental to who i am is also just amazing and thrilling. i'm really, really excited to finally get started later this august.

when kirk and i were walking along park avenue last friday evening, when he was enjoying his new cigar, he asked how i was doing with the news from ISF we had just received the previous day, and i shared with him this thought: that all of this really comes down to what we are choosing for ourselves in this moment. it feels like a conscious choice right now more than usual. and part of that is painful because choosing one thing means excluding all other possibilities in that moment. but then again, a choice does have to be made in order to keep living life. and here and now, we've decided to choose this one. thanks for being along with me in this journey.

my sweetie rocked it!

today i watched as kirk stood in front of eight heavyweight faculty members and gave a 20-minute thesis presentation that, in my humble estimation, rocked the shizzouse.

kirkum, just before he went in to present his business plan thesis.

after a hard week of coming into the home stretch -- a week that included laser-focused days and no-sleep nights, the writing of a 20-page original business plan and the preparation of a tight, professional presentation of said plan -- kirk stood in the front of that room and demonstrated the truth of who he is with real knowledge, gifting, and confidence. it totally blew my mind. i was so proud of him!

afterward, he felt such a release, especially since there was no beating around the bush on this one: he had done very, very well.

so, of course, we went out to celebrate! in our world, this translated into several hours of spending fun, quality time together. we hopped into a theatre to see indiana jones 4, before the crowds descended upon the theatre in typical friday-night fashion. we enjoyed conversation as we strolled hand-in-hand along our little downtown area on park avenue. and we drove out to a favorite restaurant to enjoy a yummy dinner with two glasses of really terrific wine.

in our world, this also translated into early graduation presents. even though kirk has one major project left to finish next week and doesn't walk in his graduation ceremony for two more weeks . . . what can i say? i was too excited to wait to give him this:

his graduation gift package included this gorgeous, handcrafted meerschaum pipe with eagle detail, a chrome zippo lighter, a pipe stand for his desk, a classic book on the history of pipes, and a pipe tamper bust of sir walter raleigh. (sir walter raleigh was a renaissance man, just like kirk, so i deemed that a perfect fit for this pipe that features his favorite bird.)

of course, the only thing i couldn't purchase from the great vendor who supplied all these beautiful gifts was a stash of tobacco. so off we headed to the one place on park avenue that i thought might carry tobacco: the cigar shop.

unfortunately, the cigar shop did not carry tobacco. no worries, though. we purchased a cohiba cigar for kirk to enjoy as we strolled down the avenue instead.

silly boy!

in all, it was a great day. i'm thrilled he reached this major milestone. like i said, he's got one major project left to finish, due next week, and then he walks to receive his master's diploma on friday, june 6th.

whew! what a journey.

six random things

laura at green inventions central tagged me with a fun, carefree meme that asks me to share six random things about myself. so, in the hopes of sharing six things you didn't already know (unless you are my mom), here goes . . .

1. i sucked my thumb until i was eight years old. i did this in defiance of the agreement i made with my mom that i was old enough to give up the habit when i turned six. despite her belief that i was faithfully upholding my end of this bargain, i secretly stuck it out for two more years.

2. i have never broken a bone in my body. this says more about my scaredy-cat-ness than anything else. while my sister was out wrestling the neighborhood boys and scraping up her knees and elbows, i remained safely inside, reading books and keeping my pink dresses crisp and clean. i guess you could say i've kept this prim-and-proper approach to physical risk-taking throughout my life. none of my bones have ever been forced to go places they weren't meant to go, and i hope they never will.

3. kirk has informed me that i have four stages of eating. stage one: full absorption. this is when i quickly and fully enjoy each and every bite of the meal i have mentally anticipated eating all evening long. i usually enter into this stage with all of the attendant exclamations of enjoyment you would expect, such as "this is so good!" and "i can't believe how freakin' delicious this is." stage two: slowing down. this is when i still enjoy every bite of the experience, but the fork's speed from plate to mouth begins to slow. stage three: negotiation. at this point, i still want to enjoy the food that remains on my plate, but i've begun to realize that the space inside my tummy is finite and every forkful of food now matters. so i begin to negotiate with the food, carrying out a nonverbal conversation about which remaining bites most deserve to be eaten. kirk can tell this conversation is going on, even though he's not privy to what's being said between me and the food. stage four: total and utter disgust. at this point, it's over. in one quick and decisive move, i push the plate across the table, as far away from me as possible. i simply cannot stand the thought of another bite, much less the look or smell of any of that remaining food.

4. recently, i told kirk we must add one more stage to this process. stage five: dessert. because let's be honest. no matter how full the stomach or how disgusted the taste buds, there's always room for dessert.

5. my girl cat, diva, has developed an attachment. in animal terms, you could say she has imprinted. in physical terms, this means that she follows me around everywhere. even when i am not moving, she is there. for instance, i can be laying in bed reading. if i close the book, i see that she is sitting directly behind it, next to me, staring at me. just staring, unending staring. sometimes, when i close my eyes to rest, i will open them and see her still sitting there, her face up close to mine, staring. i should begin calling her diva the stare-er. except that's too awkward to say.

6. when i was in college, i was so addicted to dr. pepper that i had to compel myself into a fast. for the last eight months of school, from october until graduation day in may, i did not let one sip of dr. pepper pass my lips. my sister gave me a 24-pack as a graduation gift. interestingly enough, i think it took me about three months to finish it. (normally it would have taken me less than a week.) today, my drink of choice is pepsi.

i guess that does it, folks. i'd love to hear six random things about kirsten, rebecca, sarah, christin, nate, tammy, bluemountainmama, and erin.

friends make a real difference

i have been praying for almost two years that God would bring friends into my life here in florida. i knew, when kirk and i made the decision that i would move here when we got married, that i would never find another friend like sara . . . or kate . . . or my life group girls . . . or any of the kindred spirits who have graced my life with their presence throughout my days. i would never find another person quite like any of them again. and yet i began to pray for friends who could inhabit whole new rooms in my heart, who could take up residence in my affection in ways i had not yet discovered because our paths had not yet crossed.

it has been a long and lonely road in this direction.

even though kirk is my best friend and closest ally, i am the kind of girl who has always carried close and intimate friendships with a small handful of girls at a time. it's a blessing i have always been thankful to discover, because i know such kinships are so incredibly rare, and yet God has been consistently faithful to provide these kind of friends in the previous eras of my life. some of them have been in my life for more than ten years.

yet here was a long season in which new friendships in a new hometown would not make their way out of hiding. in nearly two years, i'd discovered only one, yet our different life responsibilities kept us from connecting as frequently as either of us would have liked. still, it was so nice to have made a local friend in lauren, just to know she was there, close by, a caring, fun, and thoughtful friend, even if i didn't see her beautiful face and infectious smile as often as i wanted to.

so still i prayed. and still i found myself waiting . . . and waiting . . . and waiting. i began to realize just how rich my friendship blessings in previous seasons of life had truly been.

i sustained myself as i waited through regular phone dates with the beautiful lovelies in my life back home, giving thanks regularly for the gift of being deeply known and loved in those places and for the gift of reciprocating that kind of love to them.

and i gave thanks for the lifesaving gift that has been this blog.

you all know what i'm talking about. if you're reading this, chances are you, too, have been awestruck by the amazing community of friends that has grown and deepened through so many connections made and the deep, beautiful souls that care and offer their hearts and the grace of Christ to others with their words, sharing honest pieces of their truth as they continue to learn and live this life. if anyone has ever doubted that real community can develop in blogland, they need look no further than the community of friends that has gathered here and in other close places . . . a community that prays together and walks together through the difficult and the celebratory times that life can bring. they need look no further than the soul friend i've found in my dear kirsten-girl. my need for friendship in the past two years has been fed so frequently in this very space and in the spaces of so many others of you out there. and for that, i thank God . . . and i also thank you.

then, in february, something interesting developed.

i got an e-mail from lauren. although we hadn't been connecting in person very frequently, she'd been keeping up with my blog. she had been one of the original sounding boards for the business idea that propelled me into graduate school last year, the one that spoke to a need among women to find and be found in real community and grace. she had seen that vision slowly transform into a calling to ministry. she also knew how long i had been searching for places to connect at our church, failing for such a long time to find the right landing pad in which to serve and connect.

it turns out she'd been finding others like me. in fact, she was one of them. and then there was kristen, who had recently been burdened with an inexplicable need to pray for the women at our church. and there was maggie, who had been working for the previous year to establish and grow a women's ministry at one of our distributed sites and could share with us wisdom and vision.

lauren wondered, would i like to join them for a time of prayer and sharing and brainstorming at her house that saturday?

would i.

that first meeting back in february led to another meeting the following weekend. we got to know one another, since lauren was the only one who knew all three of us, but none of the rest of us previously knew one another. we shared our hearts and began to cast a vision for what it might look to provide a place of deep connection and authentic conversation among the women at our church. eventually, this led to a dessert gathering with all of our husbands, in which we shared this vision and they listened, asked questions, and offered so much wisdom.

we fasted together. we called each other during the week. we sent e-mails like they were going out of style. we kept meeting, and we kept praying for this fledgling ministry. slowly, a purpose and structure began to emerge.

and then one morning, after one of our late-night marathon meetings, i found myself staring in the mirror as i brushed my teeth with one single thought resounding in my head: friends make a real difference. in the time i've been living in florida, i have loved the home of quiet sanctuary that kirk and i have created together, along with our two kitties. i am still awestruck every day by the tropical beauty that surrounds me here and the charm of the little town in which we live. and yet, here and now, this was the first time florida actually felt like home.

all because of friends. they make all the difference. after two years of praying for God to bring these exact three girls into my life, i know this to be true without a doubt.

sighs of happiness

tonight kirk and i walked outside and found ourselves greeted by a perfect night. the air, to breathe it deeply, filled our lungs with sweetness, the wind blew swiftly and rustle-y through the trees, and i felt the lightest touch of sprinkles on my cheek. a storm is coming, but it's not here yet.

off we clipped down the road in our car, windows rolled wide open and our weepies album floating out into the quiet night air. we rolled across one brick road after another, through neighborhoods favorite and familiar, and the wind flowed through the car and blew my hair wildly across my forehead, everywhere. i sighed deeply and contentedly as we puttered along those roads, my mind filled with so many good things coming our way, falling into place, filling our life with activity and crazy love and happiness.

we are coming up on our two-year anniversary next month, and let me tell you: it has been an amazing time. i love that we live a quirky story, that i've never encountered a story like ours, that we make choices other people sometimes deem crazy but that bring us so much joy and freedom.

even though some of our choices, like choosing the sojourners path and grad studies and the freelance life, have necessitated humility in other areas, like how and when we fully furnish our house and how frequently we gift ourselves with new clothes, it feels like we are entering into a season where some of that waiting and holding out is ending. i expect that we will continue to be watchful and careful with the direction some of our resources go, but i also see how some of the things we've been watching and waiting for are here, finally coming to birth.

that's why tonight it felt like we'd looked up and found ourselves surrounded by burgeoning life, like a spring of colorful blossoms had exploded all around us. and that is why this song by the weepies was the first i chose to blare on out our open car windows . . .

painting by chagall

thunder rumbles
in the distance:
a quiet intensity.
i am willful,
your insistence
is tugging at the best of me.
you're the moon,
i'm the water.
you're mars,
calling up neptune's daughter.

sometimes rain that's needed falls
we float like two lovers in a painting by chagall.
all around is sky and blue town,
holding these flowers for a wedding gown.
we live so high above the ground,
satellites surround us.

i am humbled
in this city,
there seems to be an endless sea
of people like us:
wakeful dreamers,
i pass them on the sunlit streets.
in our rooms,
filled with laughter,
we make hope
from every small disaster.

everybody says,
"you can't, you can't, you can't,
don't try."
still, everybody says that
if they had a chance, they'd fly
like we do.