Where to start... so many things come to mind.
I've had a log in my eye for quite some time now. You'd think it be more painful for one who wears contacts, such as myself, but no, it's just as comfortable for contact wearers as it is for those without four eyes or four lenses of any sort.
Let me paint the picture for those of you who may not know where I am coming from....
Matthew 7:3-5
"... and why worry about a speck in your friend's (brother's) eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying, 'Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,' when you can't see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log from your own eye; then perhaps you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend's eye."
This is just an excerpt from one of Jesus' many incredible teachings during his sermon on the mount. I don't normally like to pick apart small segments of scripture from the greater picture. I feel as if so many verses are twisted to sound like anything we want them to when they are taken out of context. With that said, I simply can't ignore the fact that there is a log in my eye, and so much so that I'm having a hard time reading past that verse.
The solution seems simple... yank it out. The trouble is, my hands have been so full holding onto what I want that not only have I not been able to yank it out, I haven't wanted to. I just learned to live with it. In fact, I forgot it was there. That's a pretty dangerous place to be... spiritually blind with both hands full of selfish desires.
I've come to a place of letting go of what I want, but believe me, it wasn't and it continues to not be easy. It is a daily, sometimes even hourly, choice to surrender my will to the will of my Father. As I continue in my journey, the need to let go gets less and less... not because I get better at letting it go, but because the more I get to know who my Savior is, the more I realize that as much as my heart desires what my fists have been clenching to, I slowly become OK without it.
This is just the beginning for me... the letting go. I've only just recently noticed and started to feel the log in my eye. As if letting go isn't uncomfortable enough, trying to get a log the size of Texas out of your eye isn't much better. The log has not only prevented me from seeing, but from hearing and from understanding. It makes me sad to think of how I've been so quick to point out the change that needs to take place in other's people's lives, all the while waiting for their change to change me. I've missed the point completely, which doesn't just affect me but those I do life with, or even those I just come across. With this new found discovery my heart is sad, but hopeful. Instead of beating myself up about it, I'm going to opt for change.
I read today that "being stuck is waiting for someone else to change in order for you to be OK." If there is one word that best describes how I've felt lately (other than "confused"), it would be "stuck." It all makes sense why I've felt this way. As a living, breathing creature of God, change is not only inevitable, I think it is part of God's plan for us... to not just stay the way we are. The trouble with me is, I've been depending on other people changing to make me OK. I've tried and tried to point out their specks and ways they needed to change, but it doesn't do me much good to try and pull the specks out of their eyes when my hands are full and I can't see past the log in my own.
Today I not only let go of what my hands and heart have been clinging to, but I let go of trying to fix and change others for my own benefit and growth. I let go of my selfishness. I let go of trying to do it all and be it all.
It's time to stop living and walking so blindly and deal with this mother-load of a log in my eye.
Does anybody know a good carpenter?
(I get the cheesiness from my mom!)
Monday, January 24, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
still running
It didn't seem real, but it was. It was very real.
Moving here had stripped me from every comfort I had wrapped myself in over the last four years. Upon my arrival I felt myself standing naked before strangers, begging for clothing of any sort to wrap myself in, but none within reach. The harder I tried to cover myself, the more uncomfortable I felt. Though I found pieces of cloth here and there to cover my shame, they weren't pieces of cloth that I recognized and they didn't comfort me the way familiarity does.
Worn out and tired from the journey, stripped of everything I knew and loved, and covered in someone else's clothing, the discomfort became too much and I quickly started to feel myself collapse.
I fell and I fell hard. I broke every bone on the way down. The bones that had guarded my heart shattered and every bit of my heart shattered along with them. I lay on the ground appearing lifeless to those around me. I was aware I was still breathing, but I couldn't yell for help. I couldn't even speak. Not even a whisper. I could sense people all around me, people I knew who came to help me, but no one could do anything. No one knew what to do. If they moved my broken body, I might die. If they left me there on my own, I might die. I felt someone lean in to put their ear to my mouth. I heard them ask "how can I help?" as they listened closely, even desperate, for me to answer. In my mind I was screaming and yelling, begging them to pick me up and take me in their arms, but nothing came out of my mouth. I lay there, lifeless, on the ground, surrounded by so many people, but so alone.
How could they not know what I needed? How could they just stand there? Why won't they help me? Why can't they fix this? Panic set in and my breaths got shorter and shorter. The worry began to make my head hurt, so much so I thought it would explode. Anger set in and I began to hate the people around me. I hated them for standing there. I hated them for not being able to fix me. I hated them for not holding me. The hate consumed every pain I had previously felt and my body went numb. Hatred stopped the feeling of pain, so I held onto it for a while. I held onto it until I realized that hatred stopped the feeling of everything. I didn't want to let it go because I didn't want to feel the pain again, but there was a faint memory of something good that I longed for. Something good that I knew hatred couldn't give life too. That word... "Life"... that's what I needed, but it seemed so far away, the memory of it so faint.
I let go of the hatred and the pain came back tenfold. Those same people around me, that same voice asking "how can I help?" and yet they could do nothing. It hurt even worse because I knew they couldn't help me, but I loved them anyway. Loving them... it made it hurt more. It hurt more because I knew I had to let them go too. The hatred wasn't going to numb the pain, and they were going to heal it. I had to let go of the hope I had put in them to fix me. But I loved them, how could I possibly let them go? I clenched tighter and tighter to the ones that I loved, and the tighter I clenched the more it hurt.
I heard something. It sounded like a whisper... "let it go."
I violently shook my head no.
"let it go."
Tears began to stream down my face.
"let it go."
For the first time since I collapsed, I was able to let out how I felt inside and what sounded like shrieking began to come out of my mouth. On and on I cried aloud, but even above my cries, I heard the whisper...
"let it go."
My broken body, though unable to move, was still able to hold on for dear life what it didn't want to lose.
"JJ. Let it go."
My crying began to slow. My breathing followed. I looked at my arm stretched out on the ground and I could see my hand still clenched tight.
With tears streaming down my face, I slowly began to loosen my grip. Before I knew it, my hand was open...
and I finally felt at peace.
I breathed the last breath I had in me and I let it all go. I let everything go.
I gave up.
Everything was dark, but it was still. It was quiet. It was calm.
I felt breath that wasn't my own begin to fill my lungs. I felt a presence all around me, but it wasn't any of the people who had been there before. My bones were no longer broken. My heart was completely whole, without the slightest crack or bit of evidence it had ever been harmed. I felt someone or something lift me and without any effort of my own I began to stand on my own two feet.
I started to walk, and in which direction I don't know because it was still dark, but I just kept walking. I didn't have a care or concern in the world of what might happen, so I started running. I felt weightless and I began to feel overjoyed as I ran. It had been so long since I'd run towards something, and it felt good. I didn't even know what I was running towards, but I knew it was good, and I knew I was taken care of.
And this is where I find myself... still running. Yes, it is still dark and so much is unknown, but I am running with a peace and a joy knowing that I need not worry about the dark. I need not worry about what I run into. I need not worry about what lays ahead.
I run because a weight has been lifted. I run because my body has been healed. I run because my cup overflows and I no longer need to worry about what spills or stains. And I run because I no longer fear that which once broke me. It is in the brokenness that I have found restoration, and in the restoration I have found life again.
Without much sight of what surrounds me, I run carelessly into the care of He who is healing me.
Moving here had stripped me from every comfort I had wrapped myself in over the last four years. Upon my arrival I felt myself standing naked before strangers, begging for clothing of any sort to wrap myself in, but none within reach. The harder I tried to cover myself, the more uncomfortable I felt. Though I found pieces of cloth here and there to cover my shame, they weren't pieces of cloth that I recognized and they didn't comfort me the way familiarity does.
Worn out and tired from the journey, stripped of everything I knew and loved, and covered in someone else's clothing, the discomfort became too much and I quickly started to feel myself collapse.
I fell and I fell hard. I broke every bone on the way down. The bones that had guarded my heart shattered and every bit of my heart shattered along with them. I lay on the ground appearing lifeless to those around me. I was aware I was still breathing, but I couldn't yell for help. I couldn't even speak. Not even a whisper. I could sense people all around me, people I knew who came to help me, but no one could do anything. No one knew what to do. If they moved my broken body, I might die. If they left me there on my own, I might die. I felt someone lean in to put their ear to my mouth. I heard them ask "how can I help?" as they listened closely, even desperate, for me to answer. In my mind I was screaming and yelling, begging them to pick me up and take me in their arms, but nothing came out of my mouth. I lay there, lifeless, on the ground, surrounded by so many people, but so alone.
How could they not know what I needed? How could they just stand there? Why won't they help me? Why can't they fix this? Panic set in and my breaths got shorter and shorter. The worry began to make my head hurt, so much so I thought it would explode. Anger set in and I began to hate the people around me. I hated them for standing there. I hated them for not being able to fix me. I hated them for not holding me. The hate consumed every pain I had previously felt and my body went numb. Hatred stopped the feeling of pain, so I held onto it for a while. I held onto it until I realized that hatred stopped the feeling of everything. I didn't want to let it go because I didn't want to feel the pain again, but there was a faint memory of something good that I longed for. Something good that I knew hatred couldn't give life too. That word... "Life"... that's what I needed, but it seemed so far away, the memory of it so faint.
I let go of the hatred and the pain came back tenfold. Those same people around me, that same voice asking "how can I help?" and yet they could do nothing. It hurt even worse because I knew they couldn't help me, but I loved them anyway. Loving them... it made it hurt more. It hurt more because I knew I had to let them go too. The hatred wasn't going to numb the pain, and they were going to heal it. I had to let go of the hope I had put in them to fix me. But I loved them, how could I possibly let them go? I clenched tighter and tighter to the ones that I loved, and the tighter I clenched the more it hurt.
I heard something. It sounded like a whisper... "let it go."
I violently shook my head no.
"let it go."
Tears began to stream down my face.
"let it go."
For the first time since I collapsed, I was able to let out how I felt inside and what sounded like shrieking began to come out of my mouth. On and on I cried aloud, but even above my cries, I heard the whisper...
"let it go."
My broken body, though unable to move, was still able to hold on for dear life what it didn't want to lose.
"JJ. Let it go."
My crying began to slow. My breathing followed. I looked at my arm stretched out on the ground and I could see my hand still clenched tight.
With tears streaming down my face, I slowly began to loosen my grip. Before I knew it, my hand was open...
and I finally felt at peace.
I breathed the last breath I had in me and I let it all go. I let everything go.
I gave up.
Everything was dark, but it was still. It was quiet. It was calm.
I felt breath that wasn't my own begin to fill my lungs. I felt a presence all around me, but it wasn't any of the people who had been there before. My bones were no longer broken. My heart was completely whole, without the slightest crack or bit of evidence it had ever been harmed. I felt someone or something lift me and without any effort of my own I began to stand on my own two feet.
I started to walk, and in which direction I don't know because it was still dark, but I just kept walking. I didn't have a care or concern in the world of what might happen, so I started running. I felt weightless and I began to feel overjoyed as I ran. It had been so long since I'd run towards something, and it felt good. I didn't even know what I was running towards, but I knew it was good, and I knew I was taken care of.
And this is where I find myself... still running. Yes, it is still dark and so much is unknown, but I am running with a peace and a joy knowing that I need not worry about the dark. I need not worry about what I run into. I need not worry about what lays ahead.
I run because a weight has been lifted. I run because my body has been healed. I run because my cup overflows and I no longer need to worry about what spills or stains. And I run because I no longer fear that which once broke me. It is in the brokenness that I have found restoration, and in the restoration I have found life again.
Without much sight of what surrounds me, I run carelessly into the care of He who is healing me.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
being reminded...
I just felt the need to re-post this, as a reminder to myself. It's hard for me to believe this was almost 3 years ago, and yet I still find myself handing back the pen I grabbed from God's hand and asking Him again to write my story.
I want so badly to write, but something is just completely blocking me. It's like I can't get the words to come out. They refuse.
I can literally feel a wall inside my chest and the words from my heart are trying so hard to jump over it, but they just can't make it. It's too high... and getting higher. I almost feel like the higher the wall gets, the less I can breath.
It's a slow and painful death not doing what you were created to do.
I don't know if I know exactly what I was created to do yet, but I know it involves a message I was created to share.
But this wall... everything is stuck behind this wall. How do I get over it? How do I tear it down? How do I even begin the process of chipping away at it?
I can't do it. I can't. I'm too tired, and I don't have the energy anymore. I used to want someone to chip at it for me. I thought it meant I was worth something if I was worth getting through the wall to get to. I realize my wall has allowed me to shut people out... most of which respond the same way... they don't respond at all. They give up. They walk away, and I build my wall higher.
But...
My family. I can't say the same for my family. They've never given up. I've given them plenty of reason to, but no matter how high I build that wall, they know I'm back there, and they refuse to leave me alone without ever being known.
They want to know me. Wow. They want to know me.
I'm starting to realize that I can't chip the wall down by myself... but I realize someone else can't do it for me, so what's the answer?
I think it's to meet in the middle. I think God wants to give me the strength to chip away from my side, and the someone elses strength to chip away from their side, and together we tear down that wall... by God's strength.
Lord, I don't want to hide behind my wall anymore... but I can't tear it down by myself... and I don't want someone to do it for me... so I just pray for people in my life who are willing to meet me half way.
..........................................
Hahaha... ok... so I started to write that last night, and even though there is total truth to it, I was mostly just feeling sorry for myself (there at the end) and didn't know how to reach out for help, so I figured if I could manipulate people through my writing, people would reach out to me.
What God has done in me since then is remninded me... He's got it. God's got it. God's got me. He's got me!
Wow. It all makes me smile and laugh and sing at the same time!
Me manipulating people is not trusting God. Me manipulating people is taking the pen from God's hand and writing my own story... with my own motives, my own intentions, and my own ending in sight. But that's just it... when I write my story, I like the beginning, as most of us do when we start to take control, but since it's me writing and not God, the ending is tragic.
I'm tired of having tragic endings due to selfish beginnings. And this is where I hand the pen back and say "God... please.... write my story!"
God is tearing down that wall. So I'm going to stop handing out applications for His position and allow Him to be exactly who He is... God.
Monday, February 25, 2008
applicant need not apply
I can literally feel a wall inside my chest and the words from my heart are trying so hard to jump over it, but they just can't make it. It's too high... and getting higher. I almost feel like the higher the wall gets, the less I can breath.
It's a slow and painful death not doing what you were created to do.
I don't know if I know exactly what I was created to do yet, but I know it involves a message I was created to share.
But this wall... everything is stuck behind this wall. How do I get over it? How do I tear it down? How do I even begin the process of chipping away at it?
I can't do it. I can't. I'm too tired, and I don't have the energy anymore. I used to want someone to chip at it for me. I thought it meant I was worth something if I was worth getting through the wall to get to. I realize my wall has allowed me to shut people out... most of which respond the same way... they don't respond at all. They give up. They walk away, and I build my wall higher.
But...
My family. I can't say the same for my family. They've never given up. I've given them plenty of reason to, but no matter how high I build that wall, they know I'm back there, and they refuse to leave me alone without ever being known.
They want to know me. Wow. They want to know me.
I'm starting to realize that I can't chip the wall down by myself... but I realize someone else can't do it for me, so what's the answer?
I think it's to meet in the middle. I think God wants to give me the strength to chip away from my side, and the someone elses strength to chip away from their side, and together we tear down that wall... by God's strength.
Lord, I don't want to hide behind my wall anymore... but I can't tear it down by myself... and I don't want someone to do it for me... so I just pray for people in my life who are willing to meet me half way.
..........................................
Hahaha... ok... so I started to write that last night, and even though there is total truth to it, I was mostly just feeling sorry for myself (there at the end) and didn't know how to reach out for help, so I figured if I could manipulate people through my writing, people would reach out to me.
What God has done in me since then is remninded me... He's got it. God's got it. God's got me. He's got me!
Wow. It all makes me smile and laugh and sing at the same time!
Me manipulating people is not trusting God. Me manipulating people is taking the pen from God's hand and writing my own story... with my own motives, my own intentions, and my own ending in sight. But that's just it... when I write my story, I like the beginning, as most of us do when we start to take control, but since it's me writing and not God, the ending is tragic.
I'm tired of having tragic endings due to selfish beginnings. And this is where I hand the pen back and say "God... please.... write my story!"
God is tearing down that wall. So I'm going to stop handing out applications for His position and allow Him to be exactly who He is... God.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
dancing again
I moved into a new place today. It's another temporary place, but this time with an end to "temporary" in sight. Come January 8th, 2011, I will finally have a place to call home in Portland, Oregon. It's been a rough start in this city, rougher than I could have imagined. Maybe it's because I'm still right in the middle of it, living out of suitcases and boxes, so the emotions are still very fresh and intense, but the last 2 and a half months have been some of the hardest I think I have been through in a while.
While moving some of my stuff today, I started sorting through some boxes and pulled out some old journals. I could literally feel all of the emotions I poured out on those pages over the last 3 years of my life. I sat on the hardwood floor of this cute little studio apartment, and just cried and thanked God for how far He has brought me... again.
I tucked my journals away, reminded myself that the pain from those pages were over, put the current pain I am now facing aside, popped in a favorite mixed CD, and just danced. I danced like I haven't danced in a long time. OK, that's not totally true, I danced Saturday night, and maybe that was the catalyst for tonight's dance, but before Saturday, it had been a while since I found myself dancing.
I think that's a good sign... dancing. I think it means, for me, that I am remembering that God has got me. When things get tough I rest in that truth, but when things start to fall into place and I see or feel a glimpse of hope, I dance in it! The good and the bad, God is with me through it all, and I respond to it in different ways, some good, some bad, but none the less, God deals with my responses and He sticks with me... through it all. The last few months I've just been clinging to Him, with no energy left to do much else.
Tonight, we danced.
Thank You, Lord, for Your faithfulness. For seeing me through this hard time. For providing more than enough, even when I wasn't able to see or acknowledge it. Thank You for fighting for me, and with me. Thank You for not giving up on me, even when I yelled at You that night in the car. Thank You for loving me, and not the way people love pizza or the way I love Dean Martin, but purely, recklessly, abundantly and unabashedly loving me. I could never have done or be doing this without You.
Thank You that I get to go home next week and visit with family and friends... something I've been longing for since I moved here.
And thank You that when I come back, I can put away the suitcases, recycle the boxes, do a little dance, and finally be at home...
in Portland, Oregon.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
a thrill of hope
Thanksgiving 2010, how did you get here so fast? And to think, you have already come and gone. Mercy me, not the band, where does the time go?
For Thanksgiving this year I decided to go stay with some new friends of mine in Seattle, WA. I had never been to Seattle before, and seeing as I now live 3 hours away and had nothing to do for Thanksgiving, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to jump ship in Portland and head even further north for the weekend.
Having been warned about the heavy traffic going into Seattle, even when it's not the day before Thanksgiving, I decided to head out Wednesday afternoon, hoping to at least get there by night fall. I had heard this was a most un-enjoyable drive for most people as not only is it always raining, but the road is always full of big semi-trucks, slopping even more rain onto your windshield from the backs of their ginormous tires, making it impossible for your windshield wipers to wipe fast enough. None the less, I wasn't going to let this keep me from a weekend getaway in the emerald city (I just heard someone call it that once, I should probably google that).
Despite the rumors, it was actually quite an enjoyable drive. It had just snowed the night before, so the sky was clear and the ground was white... the perfect setting for heading into the Holidays. I was quite tired as I had worked that morning at 5:30am and didn't fit in a nap before leaving, so I decided that stopping for coffee was a must. Much to my delight, once I hit Washington, many of the rest stops had signs that said "Free Coffee." Even though I was only 45 minutes into my trip, as soon as I saw the sign I skipped a lane or two, only cutting off one old woman, and tore into the first rest stop exit. It sounds funny to say, because it's a rest stop, but it was the most angelic rest stop I had ever been to. It was hidden under big beautiful pine trees that were covered in snow, kids were skipping to the bathroom as their parents darted straight to the coffee. Everything was white and it was really just breathtaking. Even something about the way the "Restrooms" sign was hung made me envision resting in a cloud instead of hovering over a porcelain pee hole.
Another side note, which will cause for a rewind, my car has been acting up a bit lately and it sometimes decides that it doesn't want to start. This problem is a recent development and the first time it happened a couple of weeks ago, I just thought the battery had died. I called AAA (thank you, mom, for that membership) and when this cute little old man came out to jump it, it didn't jump. It just sat there, as if it had temporarily checked out of it's reality of being an 11 year old Nissan Maxima. The cute little old man rubbed his bald head, pushed his glasses back up, and without saying a word just walked to the back of his truck. He came back with a big wooden stick. I sort of laughed to myself as I wondered what was about to happen.
He asked me to hold the roof of my car up, as I don't have one of those sticks that holds it for you (guys, feel free to interject here and tell me the official name of that stick), and he took his big wooden pole, stuck it down into a crevice and began hitting something. After a few taps, he smiled, looked at me and said "that oughta do it!" I was skeptic, but I was so pulling for this cute little old man, so I walked back around to the drivers seat and gave the engine a crank. Sure enough, it started.
He explained to me, in laments terms, that the starter was locking up and that it should be good to go, but it may need "a few light slams every now and then." I asked him to show me where the starter was and so he took a flashlight, shined it down the crevice, and said "see that metal thing with the dent marks (assuming they were from the "few light slams")? That's the starter. That's what I was hitting." I'm really glad that being a woman, he assumed that I not only knew nothing about cars but was completely unable to put two and two together. Regardless, he was a darling old man and I thanked him ever so much for his help.
My car was fine for about a week and then one day after work, I got in to go home and low and behold it wouldn't start. I went back into work and got a broom. I told one of the guys I work with that my car wouldn't start and I needed help holding the roof up. He probably thought he'd be doing more than that since I was grabbing a broom to fix a car problem, but he followed me out, and did just as I asked. He held the roof, I stuck the broom down the crevice I had discovered the week before and started lightly slamming on the starter. He laughed, then I walked around to the drivers seat and gave the engine a crank. Sure enough, it started. "No way," my co-worker exclaimed and laughed even more. "Yea," I said confidently with my head held high, "I feel like a man!"
Fast forward to last Wednesday and my visit to this angelic rest stop. When I parked, I really did not want to turn my car off only to have to go through the hassle of my car not starting, having to find a roof holder, then lightly slamming on my starter with the closest tree branch I could find. I debated for a bit, and decided that I could trust this angelic scene with leaving my car on and unlocked while I grabbed some coffee and made a brief visit to the restroom. Being a bit nervous about the idea, I decided I would hurry just to be on the safe side.
Going to the restroom while in a hurry just isn't an ideal situation. There's nothing restful about it... especially when you're wearing layers. This might be exposing a bit too much about myself, but I, for whatever reason decided I could get through the whole process a lot faster if I just left my gloves on. After all, then I wouldn't even need to waste time washing my hands. I was OK with the idea until I stepped out of the stall with my gloves on, and maybe it was my own insecurity, but I felt the line of mothers and daughters staring at me as if to watch and make sure I was going to wash my hands. I walked up to the sink, opened my glove flaps, and washed four fingers on each hand (the thumbs don't have flaps). OK, I didn't wash them, I ran them under the water, but it made me feel better about the people watching. Too much information? Probably so, but oh well. Onward! I grabbed a cup of free coffee which, even though it was stale, made it taste great!
I ran out to my car with my free stale coffee and eight of my fingers freshly rinsed, and was ready to hit the road. Before pulling out onto the highway, I found some Christmas music on the radio, which I normally don't condone before Thanksgiving, but being in the spirit of Holiday road trips, I couldn't resist.
I enjoyed all the typical Christmas songs like "I'll be home for Christmas," "Let it snow," and the Jackson 5's rendition of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." I sang out loud, I sang to myself, I sang to pictures I had in my car, I just really got into it. Then a song came on that made it hard for me to decide if I should change the station so as to be nice to the person singing it, or if I should scrap the whole nice thing and just laugh at what I was hearing. I know it may be hard for you to believe, but just as I had my finger on the button to change the station, I pulled it back and decided to keep laughing.
The song was called "Christmas in the Northwest" and it just may be by far the best worst Christmas song I have ever heard. It was complete and utter cheese. I mean I couldn't believe it was even on the radio. I started thinking about the lyrics, and even the lyrics to songs I was just previously enjoying and thought "is this really what we think Christmas is all about?" I say "we," because even though I know what Christmas is really all about, I sometimes forget and get caught up in the commercialism of it. But before I get on that thought, let me go back to the song. The lyrics of the chorus are as follows...
Christmas in the Northwest
Is a gift that we can share
Christmas in the Northwest
Is a child's answered prayer
Take away the presents
And they still will have a dream
For Christmas in the Northwest
Is a gift God wrapped in green
Maybe it's because it's my first holiday season in the Northwest, so I don't appreciate it as much as those indigenous to these parts, but really? A child's answered prayer? God's gift wrapped in green?
Now, I don't want to completely tear apart this song, for a couple of reasons...
1. I felt somewhat like a jerk when I looked it up and found out it was released in 1985 as a means to help benefit Children's hospitals in the area. Yea, I know, I felt it burn.
2. While there are a few parts in the song with more substance, I couldn't get past the cheese of the chorus (lyrically and compositionally). That said, who am I to blast someone else's work? I'm not a profound music critic, I'm just another person with a barrel full of opinions.
I laughed it off as another cheesy Christmas song, but I couldn't stop thinking about that one part "Christmas in the Northwest is God's gift wrapped in green." I literally said out loud something to the effect of "Lord, it's pretty here and all, but I am so glad that's not what life or Christmas is all about. Thank God our gift isn't wrapped in green!"
Now I know, it's just a song, and I don't need to analyze it to death, but sometimes I can't help it, that's what I do. Sure, God gives us gifts, and if you want to wrap that up in a cute little Christmas song, go for it, I'm sure He doesn't mind, but good Lord, don't miss the point along the way!
There is one song that, even though it's termed a Christmas song, may be one of my overall favorite songs. Reason being, every time I hear it or sing it, it doesn't stop there. I feel it. The words literally send chills up my spine. The radio plays it and renditions of it have been done over and over, so much so that you're almost in auto pilot when you sing it or hear it, but if you really stop and take in the words, they will pierce your soul.
O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,
Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friends.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
There's too much for me to pick apart in one post. I don't even know how to take it all in. Whether it be because I am in a tough season right now, or because the song is just that powerful, or a lot of both, I had forgotten the truth and the hope behind these words until this commercial of a Holiday season started to roll around (right after Halloween). The truth and the hope is always available, not just at Christmas, but when I listened to these words recently and sang them out loud it shocked me to my core and I just found myself in tears.
Only when HE appeared did the soul feel it worth! And can you imagine, a weary world who for so long just layed in their own mess of sin and pain, just pinning away, until finally, FINALLY, a THRILL of HOPE! Can you imagine feeling that? Finally, after such a long and weary wait, that initial feeling of hope? Thrill seems to be the only world appropriate to describe it. What a thrill it must be to finally feel your true worth! Even now, it makes me tear up out of joy. What a Glorious morning! How can you do anything else but fall on your knees? Can you imagine? A weary world, a weary heart finally being able to rejoice! I can not hold it in! Divine night, indeed. And He, He who came and made us feel our worth knows our need. He is no stranger to our weakness. He is neither surprised by it, nor intimidated by it, He conquers it! He completely shatters that which has held us in bondage for so long! Fall on your knees and behold! Behold your King, your Savior, your Redeemer! Who better fit for us to serve? His law is love and His gospel is peace! Not even the hippies got that right! The law by which He governs is love, and the gospel by which He teaches is peace! No condemnation, just love and peace! Fall on your knees and rest in His truth! Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother! Our brother! Oppressor and oppressed shall be no more, for in His name, all oppression shall cease! O Holy night, indeed! With all of our hearts, with all of who we are, how can we but praise Him?
I surrender who I am, I surrender what I want, I surrender my power and my own glory and I fall on my knees and beg, dear Lord, if you are who you say you are, take all of me and please give me the honor of proclaiming your power and your glory... ever more, ever more!
Oh, Holy Night!
For Thanksgiving this year I decided to go stay with some new friends of mine in Seattle, WA. I had never been to Seattle before, and seeing as I now live 3 hours away and had nothing to do for Thanksgiving, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to jump ship in Portland and head even further north for the weekend.
Having been warned about the heavy traffic going into Seattle, even when it's not the day before Thanksgiving, I decided to head out Wednesday afternoon, hoping to at least get there by night fall. I had heard this was a most un-enjoyable drive for most people as not only is it always raining, but the road is always full of big semi-trucks, slopping even more rain onto your windshield from the backs of their ginormous tires, making it impossible for your windshield wipers to wipe fast enough. None the less, I wasn't going to let this keep me from a weekend getaway in the emerald city (I just heard someone call it that once, I should probably google that).
Despite the rumors, it was actually quite an enjoyable drive. It had just snowed the night before, so the sky was clear and the ground was white... the perfect setting for heading into the Holidays. I was quite tired as I had worked that morning at 5:30am and didn't fit in a nap before leaving, so I decided that stopping for coffee was a must. Much to my delight, once I hit Washington, many of the rest stops had signs that said "Free Coffee." Even though I was only 45 minutes into my trip, as soon as I saw the sign I skipped a lane or two, only cutting off one old woman, and tore into the first rest stop exit. It sounds funny to say, because it's a rest stop, but it was the most angelic rest stop I had ever been to. It was hidden under big beautiful pine trees that were covered in snow, kids were skipping to the bathroom as their parents darted straight to the coffee. Everything was white and it was really just breathtaking. Even something about the way the "Restrooms" sign was hung made me envision resting in a cloud instead of hovering over a porcelain pee hole.
Another side note, which will cause for a rewind, my car has been acting up a bit lately and it sometimes decides that it doesn't want to start. This problem is a recent development and the first time it happened a couple of weeks ago, I just thought the battery had died. I called AAA (thank you, mom, for that membership) and when this cute little old man came out to jump it, it didn't jump. It just sat there, as if it had temporarily checked out of it's reality of being an 11 year old Nissan Maxima. The cute little old man rubbed his bald head, pushed his glasses back up, and without saying a word just walked to the back of his truck. He came back with a big wooden stick. I sort of laughed to myself as I wondered what was about to happen.
He asked me to hold the roof of my car up, as I don't have one of those sticks that holds it for you (guys, feel free to interject here and tell me the official name of that stick), and he took his big wooden pole, stuck it down into a crevice and began hitting something. After a few taps, he smiled, looked at me and said "that oughta do it!" I was skeptic, but I was so pulling for this cute little old man, so I walked back around to the drivers seat and gave the engine a crank. Sure enough, it started.
He explained to me, in laments terms, that the starter was locking up and that it should be good to go, but it may need "a few light slams every now and then." I asked him to show me where the starter was and so he took a flashlight, shined it down the crevice, and said "see that metal thing with the dent marks (assuming they were from the "few light slams")? That's the starter. That's what I was hitting." I'm really glad that being a woman, he assumed that I not only knew nothing about cars but was completely unable to put two and two together. Regardless, he was a darling old man and I thanked him ever so much for his help.
My car was fine for about a week and then one day after work, I got in to go home and low and behold it wouldn't start. I went back into work and got a broom. I told one of the guys I work with that my car wouldn't start and I needed help holding the roof up. He probably thought he'd be doing more than that since I was grabbing a broom to fix a car problem, but he followed me out, and did just as I asked. He held the roof, I stuck the broom down the crevice I had discovered the week before and started lightly slamming on the starter. He laughed, then I walked around to the drivers seat and gave the engine a crank. Sure enough, it started. "No way," my co-worker exclaimed and laughed even more. "Yea," I said confidently with my head held high, "I feel like a man!"
Fast forward to last Wednesday and my visit to this angelic rest stop. When I parked, I really did not want to turn my car off only to have to go through the hassle of my car not starting, having to find a roof holder, then lightly slamming on my starter with the closest tree branch I could find. I debated for a bit, and decided that I could trust this angelic scene with leaving my car on and unlocked while I grabbed some coffee and made a brief visit to the restroom. Being a bit nervous about the idea, I decided I would hurry just to be on the safe side.
Going to the restroom while in a hurry just isn't an ideal situation. There's nothing restful about it... especially when you're wearing layers. This might be exposing a bit too much about myself, but I, for whatever reason decided I could get through the whole process a lot faster if I just left my gloves on. After all, then I wouldn't even need to waste time washing my hands. I was OK with the idea until I stepped out of the stall with my gloves on, and maybe it was my own insecurity, but I felt the line of mothers and daughters staring at me as if to watch and make sure I was going to wash my hands. I walked up to the sink, opened my glove flaps, and washed four fingers on each hand (the thumbs don't have flaps). OK, I didn't wash them, I ran them under the water, but it made me feel better about the people watching. Too much information? Probably so, but oh well. Onward! I grabbed a cup of free coffee which, even though it was stale, made it taste great!
I ran out to my car with my free stale coffee and eight of my fingers freshly rinsed, and was ready to hit the road. Before pulling out onto the highway, I found some Christmas music on the radio, which I normally don't condone before Thanksgiving, but being in the spirit of Holiday road trips, I couldn't resist.
I enjoyed all the typical Christmas songs like "I'll be home for Christmas," "Let it snow," and the Jackson 5's rendition of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." I sang out loud, I sang to myself, I sang to pictures I had in my car, I just really got into it. Then a song came on that made it hard for me to decide if I should change the station so as to be nice to the person singing it, or if I should scrap the whole nice thing and just laugh at what I was hearing. I know it may be hard for you to believe, but just as I had my finger on the button to change the station, I pulled it back and decided to keep laughing.
The song was called "Christmas in the Northwest" and it just may be by far the best worst Christmas song I have ever heard. It was complete and utter cheese. I mean I couldn't believe it was even on the radio. I started thinking about the lyrics, and even the lyrics to songs I was just previously enjoying and thought "is this really what we think Christmas is all about?" I say "we," because even though I know what Christmas is really all about, I sometimes forget and get caught up in the commercialism of it. But before I get on that thought, let me go back to the song. The lyrics of the chorus are as follows...
Christmas in the Northwest
Is a gift that we can share
Christmas in the Northwest
Is a child's answered prayer
Take away the presents
And they still will have a dream
For Christmas in the Northwest
Is a gift God wrapped in green
Maybe it's because it's my first holiday season in the Northwest, so I don't appreciate it as much as those indigenous to these parts, but really? A child's answered prayer? God's gift wrapped in green?
Now, I don't want to completely tear apart this song, for a couple of reasons...
1. I felt somewhat like a jerk when I looked it up and found out it was released in 1985 as a means to help benefit Children's hospitals in the area. Yea, I know, I felt it burn.
2. While there are a few parts in the song with more substance, I couldn't get past the cheese of the chorus (lyrically and compositionally). That said, who am I to blast someone else's work? I'm not a profound music critic, I'm just another person with a barrel full of opinions.
I laughed it off as another cheesy Christmas song, but I couldn't stop thinking about that one part "Christmas in the Northwest is God's gift wrapped in green." I literally said out loud something to the effect of "Lord, it's pretty here and all, but I am so glad that's not what life or Christmas is all about. Thank God our gift isn't wrapped in green!"
Now I know, it's just a song, and I don't need to analyze it to death, but sometimes I can't help it, that's what I do. Sure, God gives us gifts, and if you want to wrap that up in a cute little Christmas song, go for it, I'm sure He doesn't mind, but good Lord, don't miss the point along the way!
There is one song that, even though it's termed a Christmas song, may be one of my overall favorite songs. Reason being, every time I hear it or sing it, it doesn't stop there. I feel it. The words literally send chills up my spine. The radio plays it and renditions of it have been done over and over, so much so that you're almost in auto pilot when you sing it or hear it, but if you really stop and take in the words, they will pierce your soul.
O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,
Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friends.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
There's too much for me to pick apart in one post. I don't even know how to take it all in. Whether it be because I am in a tough season right now, or because the song is just that powerful, or a lot of both, I had forgotten the truth and the hope behind these words until this commercial of a Holiday season started to roll around (right after Halloween). The truth and the hope is always available, not just at Christmas, but when I listened to these words recently and sang them out loud it shocked me to my core and I just found myself in tears.
Only when HE appeared did the soul feel it worth! And can you imagine, a weary world who for so long just layed in their own mess of sin and pain, just pinning away, until finally, FINALLY, a THRILL of HOPE! Can you imagine feeling that? Finally, after such a long and weary wait, that initial feeling of hope? Thrill seems to be the only world appropriate to describe it. What a thrill it must be to finally feel your true worth! Even now, it makes me tear up out of joy. What a Glorious morning! How can you do anything else but fall on your knees? Can you imagine? A weary world, a weary heart finally being able to rejoice! I can not hold it in! Divine night, indeed. And He, He who came and made us feel our worth knows our need. He is no stranger to our weakness. He is neither surprised by it, nor intimidated by it, He conquers it! He completely shatters that which has held us in bondage for so long! Fall on your knees and behold! Behold your King, your Savior, your Redeemer! Who better fit for us to serve? His law is love and His gospel is peace! Not even the hippies got that right! The law by which He governs is love, and the gospel by which He teaches is peace! No condemnation, just love and peace! Fall on your knees and rest in His truth! Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother! Our brother! Oppressor and oppressed shall be no more, for in His name, all oppression shall cease! O Holy night, indeed! With all of our hearts, with all of who we are, how can we but praise Him?
I surrender who I am, I surrender what I want, I surrender my power and my own glory and I fall on my knees and beg, dear Lord, if you are who you say you are, take all of me and please give me the honor of proclaiming your power and your glory... ever more, ever more!
Oh, Holy Night!
It makes me think twice about saying "holy crap!"
Friday, November 19, 2010
Dear Depression,
I see you've come back for a visit. To be quite honest, I can't say that I'm glad to see you. While there was a time when I would have welcomed you with open arms, mainly because I still believed you truly cared about me, in recent years I've adjusted to getting along well on my own, and I've realized that I don't need you anymore.
Too many times you have played your games and messed with my head. Too many times did you hold me and love me and make me feel worthy, only to disappear a short while after leaving me to feel abandoned, alone, and very much afraid. You made me believe I needed you in order to be worth something, and I did, I believed you wholeheartedly. So much so that upon each departure I felt completely worthless to point of being nameless without your name along side mine.
Just when I would start to do well without you and have even a small taste of healing from your wounds, you'd show back up at my door, unannounced, and tell me you loved me all along. You'd point out how hard the healing was without you and reasoned that the only reason it could be so hard was because we belonged together... we were meant for each other... we were made for each other.
Time and time again, I fell for your lies and collapsed into your arms, tired and worn out, and very much just wanting to be loved again. I had convinced myself that I'd rather be unhappy with you than unhappy without you, regardless of how unhealthy our relationship was. I had convinced myself that you were my only option and that I could never be anybody without you.
I'm writing to tell you that I don't believe that anymore. I'm writing to tell you that I don't believe you anymore. And I'm writing to tell you that you are no longer welcome into any area of my life.
I don't know how you found me here, but find me you did, and I commend your efforts, but I won't reward them, I won't welcome them, and I won't give into them.
Today, when you saw me walking in the rain with tears streaming down my face, I admit, I wanted you to rescue me. I wanted you to numb the pain. I wanted everything you had to offer, no matter how sick, short term, or temporary it was. I wanted it because I didn't want to feel anymore.
But I don't want to want you anymore. I don't want to be numb anymore. I don't want to taste freedom from the bondage only to give into your sickness time and time again.
And so I kept walking, and I kept crying, and I kept feeling the pain of getting along without you.
I fear the freedom, but I welcome it, as I once did you, so I don't yet know how I am going to do this without you, but I know that I can, and I know that I will.
I was not made for you.
I was made for more than this.
I was made for greater things.
I was made with Love, by Love, and for Love and I chose to live in that truth.
Goodbye, depression. This time I am leaving...
because I choose life, and because I know that I am worth it.
Without Regret,
Jennie Joy Barrows
Too many times you have played your games and messed with my head. Too many times did you hold me and love me and make me feel worthy, only to disappear a short while after leaving me to feel abandoned, alone, and very much afraid. You made me believe I needed you in order to be worth something, and I did, I believed you wholeheartedly. So much so that upon each departure I felt completely worthless to point of being nameless without your name along side mine.
Just when I would start to do well without you and have even a small taste of healing from your wounds, you'd show back up at my door, unannounced, and tell me you loved me all along. You'd point out how hard the healing was without you and reasoned that the only reason it could be so hard was because we belonged together... we were meant for each other... we were made for each other.
Time and time again, I fell for your lies and collapsed into your arms, tired and worn out, and very much just wanting to be loved again. I had convinced myself that I'd rather be unhappy with you than unhappy without you, regardless of how unhealthy our relationship was. I had convinced myself that you were my only option and that I could never be anybody without you.
I'm writing to tell you that I don't believe that anymore. I'm writing to tell you that I don't believe you anymore. And I'm writing to tell you that you are no longer welcome into any area of my life.
I don't know how you found me here, but find me you did, and I commend your efforts, but I won't reward them, I won't welcome them, and I won't give into them.
Today, when you saw me walking in the rain with tears streaming down my face, I admit, I wanted you to rescue me. I wanted you to numb the pain. I wanted everything you had to offer, no matter how sick, short term, or temporary it was. I wanted it because I didn't want to feel anymore.
But I don't want to want you anymore. I don't want to be numb anymore. I don't want to taste freedom from the bondage only to give into your sickness time and time again.
And so I kept walking, and I kept crying, and I kept feeling the pain of getting along without you.
I fear the freedom, but I welcome it, as I once did you, so I don't yet know how I am going to do this without you, but I know that I can, and I know that I will.
I was not made for you.
I was made for more than this.
I was made for greater things.
I was made with Love, by Love, and for Love and I chose to live in that truth.
Goodbye, depression. This time I am leaving...
because I choose life, and because I know that I am worth it.
Without Regret,
Jennie Joy Barrows
Monday, November 15, 2010
paper doll
I'm finding my voice again, which can always be a bit of a challenge. It helps to pull inspiration from others, so I thought I'd share some of where my inspiration comes from... music. I love this song (and this artist), but I've decided that I don't want the lyrics to describe me anymore. Since the song has already been beautifully written and recorded (by someone who has no idea who I am), I guess it's up to me to make the change.
Paper Doll by Rosie Thomas
(click to listen)
Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Dress me in what you wish I had on
And I will not say a thing
I will keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin, speechless within
You dress me up different ways
I just can't be sure I'll ever change
And I do not like the clothes I wear
I'd sooner throw them into the air
But I will not say a thing
I will just keep smiling
Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin, speechless within
You dress me up different ways
I just can't be sure I'll ever change
Why is it now
That you've cut me out
of everything I was used to now
it's not that I
stand here no choice
I will choose not to raise up my voice
Here I am, wordless again
Wordless again.
And I just can't be sure I'll ever change
Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Cut from the page that I once lived on
And I will not say a thing
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
Paper Doll by Rosie Thomas
(click to listen)
Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Dress me in what you wish I had on
And I will not say a thing
I will keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin, speechless within
You dress me up different ways
I just can't be sure I'll ever change
And I do not like the clothes I wear
I'd sooner throw them into the air
But I will not say a thing
I will just keep smiling
Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin, speechless within
You dress me up different ways
I just can't be sure I'll ever change
Why is it now
That you've cut me out
of everything I was used to now
it's not that I
stand here no choice
I will choose not to raise up my voice
Here I am, wordless again
Wordless again.
And I just can't be sure I'll ever change
Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Cut from the page that I once lived on
And I will not say a thing
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
I'll just keep smiling
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