“And Now for Something Completely Different!”

“A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.” — Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr.”

July 1 marked my one-year anniversary as a first-time home owner. Looking back at the frenzied week of financial stress I experienced preceding that monumental day in the life of Erika Morck I just laugh. How I managed to pull off getting my recently deceased father’s accounts transferred into my name and getting the cash ready to make the down payment is still a head scratcher. Fortunately, I was blessed with professional assistance from an outstanding mortgage company and responsive financial advisors and investment firms. I know I depleted a forest’s worth of trees in financial statements and other paperwork. And, even though I ground about an inch off my tooth enamel, the thrill of accomplishing this all on my own was liberating and I know my father would have been proud of his daughter’s conscientious business acumen.

I have learned much in this year of firsts – mainly that a plumber must have installed a high-flow spigot on my bank account. Handing the largest check I have ever written in my life over to the title company was just the beginning of the expenses. I have also learned that the freedoms that come with being a homeowner don’t mean that I will live a free life.  On the contrary, my relatively free and easy hiking every weekend apartment living lifestyle has been transformed to one of house and endless yard maintenance activities – all in the name of pride of ownership. My obsessive nature lends to hours of weekly weed eradication and taming the rebellion out of my lawn… In essence, I have become a slave to my once dreamed of source of liberation!

Yes, I bought the house with open eyes – but the driveway turned out to be much longer than I thought this winter and the yard much bigger than my future-puppy mommy eyes led me to believe. Alas, I do love the new me – somewhat domesticated, still lively, but much less restless in my quest for roots. I have been firmly planted on my nearly ¾ acre of paradise.

Add to all this domestic bliss a final year of theological study – and now filling in for a pastor on sabbatical on the side of a 40 hour a week job – and my life has pretty much become devoid of spontaneity and spunk. And lately that has been getting to me. Consumed by deadlines and responsibility, I have forgotten how vital play (aside from entertaining the pup) is to our well-being.

And so, it was with a bit of tongue -in-cheek anxiety that I said to myself: “And Now for Something Completely Different,” threw caution to the wind, and said yes to a Social Distortion of epic proportion (at least in my quiet little neck of the Symphony society!) Abandoning my usual “control of the situation” modus operandi I allowed 2 days of my life to be planned by someone else – someone I trust with all my heart mind you – but still – this is something completely different!

Embarking on a 2-day midweek (mind you!) auditory adventure the likes I have never heard nor willingly seen before or even remotely fathomed, this church-lady was about to get her groove back.  Bound for Spokane’s Knitting Factory and the Historic Davenport Grand Hotel, the journey began with a stop at Kootenai Falls and a walk on the swinging bridge.  On to Idaho we spotted and snorted at the microcosm of wealth tucked into the beautiful little burg of Sandpoint, ID with it’s very “now” drive-thru convenience store and stately “cabins.”

Then the reality of the big city hit us as 6 lanes of traffic ushered us into Spokane at a snail’s pace with construction detours all over the place! Needless to say, my hands gripped the steering wheel as I tried to remember learning to drive in downtown Denver. It should have been a piece of cake but that was 30 some years ago and a lot of small town living in between. My perseverance paid off big time when we finally found our way to the “grandest hotel” in Spokane. Built in 1914, this world class wonder did not disappoint!

I reluctantly handed the keys of my bronze baby to the valet – never in my life have I had my car valeted before! We did decline the tuxedo wearing bellhop’s offer to carry our 2 duffle bags to our rooms. I honestly would not have known what to do with my hands!! I stood agape in complete awe of the soaring architecture complete with gilded columns, tiled ceilings, and gold faucets shimmering in the candelabra lit bathrooms.  I felt like a princess and even better, was treated like one!

 

We had a few hours to kill before getting our eardrums blown, so we strolled along the beautiful river-walk downtown, window shopped and store snooped, and then decided to find food. Google maps was NOT our friend in this instance. In search of “locally-sourced, award-winning cuisine in a relaxed yet intimate atmosphere” we found ourselves walking in what my mother would have called the “red-light district!” That was decidedly not what we wanted on our menu so we opted for the Spaghetti Depot complete with railcar booths and 2 kid’s birthday parties.

It was now time for the main event – one of my companion on this adventure’s top five bucket list items – to see the iconic 3-decade plus strong punk rock and roll band Social Distortion. Now I know, this is not normal Erika fare, but I must admit that they have something here!  And, as I said before, it is high time for something “completely different” in my life. Really.

We started the night in the balcony but quickly decided that the main floor front of stage vantage point – also known as the mosh pit – was where this epic moment in our lives would take place. Yes, really. Their searing guitars and heavy locomotive rhythms shook me from toe to temple – as did the crowd. But I rather liked this all-but-perfected mix of punk, bluesy rock n’ roll and outlaw country.

The rest of this two-day spin through spontaneity consisted of wondering what happened the night before, restoring my hearing, hiking along Lake Coeur D’Alene, and making the long drive home. Arriving at my doorstep I felt like I had just lived more life than I have in the last 2 years in just two days. It felt wonderful! Invigorating! My mind not only felt refreshed but stretched.  Indeed, as Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. stated, “A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions.”

If variety is the spice of life, bring on the flavoring! I am hungry for more and feel as if a wall has come down opening up a whole new dimension in my life.  My sermons will even be written from a slightly different perspective now!

The moral of this story – anything done over and over again – even activities that bring you joy – lose their pleasure impact. There is also great truth in the saying “All work and no play make Erika a dull girl.” It is good to let go and dare I say – go a little crazy at times! Life is meant to be lived fully. When I take a final stock of my life someday in the far off distant future (I hope!!) I won’t remember how perfect my lawn looked on July 14th, 2018 but, I will remember the absolute glee of getting my groove back to the roar of electric guitars and the wonderful self-discoveries made along the way.

Let your rebel light so shine!

Do Not Fear, Only Believe (Jesus Changes Everything)

A sermon inspired by Lamentations 3:1-33; Mark 5: 21-43

The call had come. The call I had prepared myself for but was not anticipating – I thought things had stabilized for my Dad, but my brother’s voice on the other end of the line some 475 miles away –  said everything without needing words. My Dad, who had had a couple of bumpy days after falling and hitting his head had just moved into his new residence at St. John’s Nursing Home – into the skilled nursing wing – a transition in life we didn’t plan for but knew was for the best. He lasted there 4 hours when the chaplain that stopped in to visit alerted the staff that something didn’t seem right. When my brother called, Dad had already been transported to ICU. Fred didn’t know what was going on with him, but I had better come. Don’t try to drive tonight – he said – just get here.

I knew this highway well – the one fraught with panic, emotion, tears, and farm machinery that pulls out in front of you and robs you of any polite composure behind the wheel. That I was making this dreaded drive across Montana again so soon after my mother’s death left me desperate for answers that were not forthcoming from God. WHY? Why was he doing this to my Dad, a man that had given so much of himself and deserved so much better. WHY was he doing this to our family?

From Lamentations – “He has made my teeth grind on gravel, and made me cower in ashes; my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happiness is; so I say, “Gone is my glory, and all that I had hoped for from the Lord.”

I was angry. I was desperate. I felt guilty for living so far away and attending to the ends of my parent’s lives from afar – detached from the wasting away of life that comes before death. I was afraid. Afraid of what saying goodbye would be like – I hadn’t had that chance with my mother – I was afraid of what death would feel like as it overtook him. I was afraid of living without him. I was afraid of life without my dad. My heart was pounding, and my ears were rushing and the pit that grew within my stomach began to overwhelm me as I drove on. And then Jesus heard me.

From Lamentations – “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope…”

It was up to God now – like it always had been. Even though my faith was my foundation, it had been very hard for me to wholly trust and not try to control God – to make my ways His way. This ending, this sending – this story of the greatest man I had ever known was not supposed to end like this.

You see, the amazing thing about Jesus is when I finally gave Him my will and fully trusted my Dad to Him, a certain peace came over me. My heart quit pounding, my ears quit rushing, and while my tears didn’t stop flowing, my eyes could see clearly again. His grace is amazing.  Jesus changes everything.

The Lord’s mercies are new every morning, but sometimes we have to experience the darkness of night to appreciate them – and sometimes those nights can be pretty dark if not downright scary.

We are in good company when we find ourselves searching for God, feeling abandoned by his presence, feeling forsaken and heart broke. The Bible is full of stories of suffering and sorrow, ire and isolation, fear and frustration; full of human struggle and seeking – Adam, Eve,  Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Joseph, Naomi, Job, David, Jeremiah, Jonah – all the great ones with great but in no way always happy stories.

The words of hope we heard this morning in the reading from Lamentations came from an author who wrote, in the 2 preceding chapters, verses of incredible mourning for the once great and promised city of Jerusalem now in ruins, her people slaughtered, and the Lord’s temple destroyed. Words of hope preceded by words of mourning not only for what had  become of Jerusalem but, like many of us who have had our lives turned upside down and our greatest hopes dashed – for the special beauty of that life. He grieved not only for the past that was lost but for the future he had expected and hoped for. And, he like we, searched for a God who, in the midst of such immense, even violent suffering, seemed to be a stranger.

Those people knew God to be steadfast in his mercy and in his wrath. Their circumstances of suffering were a direct result of their sin. They navigated in a wilderness of their own making. And they lived in fear of God, rather than in relationship with him.

There are times when we too, find ourselves in a wilderness. Alone. Afraid. Angry. Questioning the goodness and presence of God amidst the messiness of life. Who hasn’t wondered if there even is a god?

Afraid that if we get angry with God –  if we let Him have it –  voicing the injustices in our lives and the world –  he will utterly reject us; or perhaps it is more a sense of fear of losing control of the situation –  afraid of relinquishing to God the outcome we desire.  In so doing, when we hold back on God with our anger – AND OUR TRUST, we construct our own barriers to an authentic relationship with him as well as saying that God’s power and mercy is finite.

Walter Brueggeman, a renowned and quite popular on YouTube, Protestant, Old Testament scholar and theologian, says that you can’t have an authentic relationship with God If all you can do is praise Him.

Luckily for us, our God whose wrath is measured, is also a God whose mercy is unmeasurable. And so, to know the weight of the sin that is of this world and to better know us, he sent his Son to bear with us and to ultimately bear our sin.

And Jesus changed everything.

Let’s take a look at what an authentic relationship with God, our Lord and Savior Jesus looks like – one in which we put voice to our lament,  where we let God in on the matters at hand, and trust that  every morning is new and full of mercy:

There was a woman, suffering for 12 long years with an affliction that made her unclean – that cast her out of her community – that she could do nothing to resolve or control. She longed to be well and had tried everything physically possible to be well. Seeing doctor after doctor, spending all she had but nothing worked.

Imagine her frustration with a body that wouldn’t function as it was supposed to – that caused her pain –  that had betrayed her and bankrupted her.

Imagine her loneliness – isolated; cast out by societal rules for something she could not control.

Imagine her loss of hope as doctor after doctor failed her.

From Lamentations – “I am one who has seen affliction under the rod of God’s wrath; he has driven and brought me into darkness without any light; against me alone he turns his hand, again and again, all day long.”

She cried out to Jesus – she made her plight known and Jesus changed everything.

She had hoped for healing. She got so much more.

“Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

For so long fear and illness had defined her – they still had their grip on her. But Jesus’ gives her more than she could ever have imagined. She is no longer just “a woman,” but a “daughter.” Jesus claimed her as his own and restored her to community as one whose “faith” has “made her well”.  Promise and peace have been added to the new reality in her life. The healing of her disease comes as almost an afterthought.

There was a father, a religious leader in the community, who was bereft and urgently seeking help for his dying daughter – who finds help but is put aside by other pressing matters and then that help comes too late. His hopes are dashed. His faith shaken.  Gone is a life that had yet to begin, that held so much promise and had brought so much joy. He was a leader in the community and yet he still was met with suffering.  Pain knows no boundaries, but it appears that sometimes faith does.

Imagine his despair as he ponders the unfairness of this broken world – that his little girl should die while he is left behind to mourn.

Imagine his anger that he of all people could not protect his daughter from the ravages of her illness.

Imagine his broken heart –  that he would never hear her jubilant laughter or watch her dance again.

From Lamentations – “He has made my flesh and my skin waste away and broken my bones; he has besieged and enveloped me with bitterness and tribulation; he has made me sit in darkness like the dead of long ago.”

Jesus sees beyond the doubt. Jesus changes everything.

“Do not fear, only believe.”

 Jesus says and with those words, resurrects a life out of fear and doubt into one lived in trust and faith.

There was a man who walked among us, who brought the dead to life and helped the blind to see. Who for a time was celebrated and followed for the things he did and the words he spoke. But like so many of us – just when we are at the top of our game – he got knocked down, he found himself alone – he felt utterly rejected by his friends and his Father – as he bore within his body and spirit the physical manifestation of the sins of the world.

Imagine his terror as he contemplated his fate.

Imagine his sense of abandonment as he waited through the darkest hours of his life alone among sleeping “friends.”

Imagine his sheer sadness and heaviness of heart over the sins of this world.

Imagine the agony He endured on the cross – the mocking and scorning, the pain and the death just so that he could be one with us, to know our struggles and deepest hurts, and so that we of all people, could have everlasting life – freed from the sin that keeps us in darkness, and a life filled with the light of new mercies every morning.

From Lamentations – “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases his mercies never come to an end.

Jesus changed everything. He came to be with us to bear with us in our darkest hours and give us all that we need. His mercies are there for us each morning – if we seek him and trust that he will see us through. Saved by grace, we are given Jesus’ strength, wisdom, guidance, power and discernment to get through every moment of every day.

Jesus changed everything for me. I made it home in time to hear my Dad say my name one last time. He passed from my arms into the arms of Jesus the next morning. Death was not as I had pictured it would be – at once rather matter of fact – at once incredibly holy.  The fear I expected was instead a quiet peace. The cries of my heart were not out of anger or abandonment but out of relief and acceptance of an end and a beginning. Jesus changes everything.

Since that day that he brought peace to a heart filled with anguish, I have known times of darkness again. But I have not faced it alone. His mercies are there every morning –  giving me just what I need – not always what I want or expected – but always what I need.

From Lamentations – “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”

Look to Jesus. Do not be afraid. Believe and go on living as He leads you – with faith.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness, oh God.

He is there for you too.

Amen.

Letting the Light Shine

Three years ago today I took this picture. My Dad told me it fit my spirit. It became the visual inspiration for my blog and a guiding light on life’s path. At the time, I had no idea of the darkness that would enter my life in the next 2 years. But through that darkness, I have come to know what true joy is. To truly see and appreciate the goodness of light, you must first know darkness. The two are not incompatible but rather depend on each other. Seeing light from the darkness and shining light into darkness is the beautiful dance of life. You must walk through the darkness to dance in the light. While I am certain to know darkness again in my life – just as the darkness of winter steals away the golden hues of fall – I know that it will never consume me.The light that leads me and embraces me is the Lord’s.

“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin.” – 1 John 1:5-7

Let your light so shine.

Following My Heart – To Be a Voice of Hope for Yours

“In times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain, God plants people in our lives with voices of hope. These are those who in our times of suffering point us toward the day when suffering will end. They reassure us in times of doubt that we can have faith. They remind us of our baptismal callings and of the God who makes a way out of no way. They remind us of God’s purpose and God’s love for us. They believe in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling us to fulfill God’s purposes. And when we cannot, they remind us that God claims us as beloved anyway, just because.”

Three years ago, I read those words as I was idly skimming through a random Lutheran website. Yeah, I know you are asking who randomly skims Lutheran websites?? Well, I did at the time -and do so more fervently now –  but I began to slow down as the words caught me with my guard down and my heart quickened.

Every single word spoke to me. This was who I wanted to be. THIS IS WHO I was called to be. This was the beginning of a much different kind of adventure than the mountainous escapades that had captivated my soul and inspired many a loft  thought for much of my recent past.

And so, I took a giant leap of faith toward fulfilling that dream. On June 2, 2018 I stood before a gathering of 225 people from across the state to profess my willingness to answer the Lord’s call. Two years of challenging, inspiring, and thrilling study of God’s word and the Lutheran faith with an abundance of self-discovery thrown in for good measure came to an end as I became a certified Lay Pastoral Associate of the Montana synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

My life is so very different now than when I first heard God whispering to me. It is amazing as I look back on the last three years just how dramatically my approach to life, concept of life, and perspective on life has changed in such a relatively short time. When I began this journey, it was to be a stronger, more authentic voice of hope in the lives of others. Little did I know that I would be the one needing a beacon of hope, a reassuring voice leading me through some very dark days of grief and personal wilderness, reminding me that God does indeed end all suffering and that no matter how much I questioned His will –  His grace would set me free. This program and my fellow classmates became that voice and the one constant positive I could focus on and find myself through during the most difficult time of my life – losing both my parents and finding myself feeling very much alone in this adventure called “life”.

In the process, I gained an even greater appreciation of my faith and deepened my relationship with the Lord. I have grown as a person and as a disciple. I have been inspired to think beyond what I assumed was my calling in life and dared to open my heart and my mind to the ways and will of the Lord.

As I stood before that assembly, I so wished that my parents could have finally seen their daughter accomplish something she set out to do with such passion and heart; but losing them both as I delved into the tenets of my faith made everything I profess as a follower of Christ that much clearer – there is more to this life and beyond this life than I will ever know, our God is a loving, merciful God, and the promise of the resurrection IS REAL. I have been forever changed by these truths and by trusting in Him, I was able to stand strong in spirit with a happy heart again.

Through my wayward and wandering life, He has prepared me to be one who in times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain  – is a voice of hope for you; one who in times of suffering points you toward the day when your suffering will end; one who reassures you in times of doubt that you can have faith – because I know what it means to doubt and to see; one who reminds you of your baptismal calling and of the God who makes a way  – an amazing way – out of no way; one who reminds you of God’s purpose and God’s love for you; one who believes in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling me to fulfill God’s purposes; and one who – when you cannot – will remind you that God claims you as His beloved anyway, just because. I cannot begin to imagine a more fulfilling, more life-giving, more challenging calling in life.

My father always told me to find my passion not in that which provides material wealth but from a source that only my heart can define. I am doing just that and my heart could not be happier or more at peace. I have no idea where God is going with this endeavor, but I do know I will let my Lord’s light so shine through me wherever He leads me.

Thoughts at the End of a Life-Changing Journey

“In times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain, God plants people in our lives with voices of hope. These are those who in our times of suffering point us toward the day when suffering will end. They reassure us in times of doubt that we can have faith. They remind us of our baptismal callings and of the God who makes a way out of no way. They remind us of God’s purpose and God’s love for us. They believe in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling us to fulfill God’s purposes. And when we cannot, they remind us that God claims us as beloved anyway, just because.”

Three years ago, I read those words as I was idly skimming through a random Lutheran website. Yeah, I know you are asking who randomly skims Lutheran websites?? Well, I did at the time -and do so more fervently now –  but I began to slow down as the words caught me with my guard down and my heart quickened.

Every single word spoke to me. This was who I wanted to be. THIS was WHO I am called to be.

And so, I took a giant leap of faith toward fulfilling that dream. This morning, two years of challenging, inspiring, and thrilling study of God’s word and the Lutheran faith with an abundance of self-discovery thrown in for good measure came to an end as I became a certified Lay Pastoral Associate of the Montana synod of the Lutheran church.

When I began this journey, it was to be a voice of hope in the lives of others. Little did I know that I would be the one needing a beacon of hope, a reassuring voice leading me through some very dark days of grief and personal wilderness, reminding me that God does indeed end all suffering and that no matter how much I questioned His will –  His grace would set me free. This program and my fellow classmates became that voice.

In the process, I gained an even greater appreciation of my faith and deepened my relationship with the Lord. I have grown as a person and as a disciple. I have been inspired to think beyond what I assumed was my calling in life and dared to open my heart and my mind to the ways and will of the Lord. This class became my rock and my salvation – giving me something to focus on and find myself through during the most difficult time of my life – losing both my parents.

As I stood before the synod assembly this morning, I so wished my parents could have finally seen their daughter accomplish something she set out to do with such passion and heart; but losing them both as I delved into the tenets of my faith made everything we profess as followers of Christ that much clearer – there is more to this life and beyond this life than I will ever know, our God is a loving, merciful God and the promise of the resurrection is real. I have been forever changed and by trusting in Him, I was able to stand strong in spirit with a happy heart again.

Through my wayward and wandering life, He has prepared me to be one who in times when everything is changing, when everything seems to be in transition, when nothing seems certain  – is a voice of hope for you; one who in times of suffering points you toward the day when your suffering will end; one who reassures you in times of doubt that you can have faith – because I know what it means to doubt and to see; one who reminds you of your baptismal calling and of the God who makes a way  – an amazing way – out of no way; one who reminds you of God’s purpose and God’s love for you; one who believes in miracles, not least of which is the miracle of God calling me to fulfill God’s purposes; and one who – when you cannot – will remind you that God claims you as His beloved anyway, just because.

Tonight, my heart could not be happier or more at peace. I have no idea where God is going with this endeavor, but I do know I will let His light so shine through me wherever He leads me.

The Goddess of Nature

It was a long, harsh winter in my neck of the woods this year but winter’s frozen shackles have been thrown off and the abundance of springtime is bursting forth! Well perhaps in someone else’s garden… I have an abundance of winter’s wrath remaining behind.

A survey of my ¾ acre of paradise reveals that it is anything but! The 6-foot drift that melted from the side of my house revealed an impressive ice formation spewing forth from the main pipe of my underground sprinkler system – which despite being blown out managed to freeze. The whopping water bill I received as the ice thawed and the water began to run was just –  dare I say it-  the tip of the iceberg! Death has come to all 6 of my arborvitae; my Spirea have been beaten down to scraggly skeletons under the weight of feet of snow and those are the ones that survived; a young maple stands in naked shock, its’ trunk forever scarred by the blade of a city plow; my evergreens proved not be so ever – they too shocked into an unpleasant shade of brown.

Ah yes, the joys of my first spring as a homeowner! Having bought my home at the height of summer blooms last year, my only charge at the time was to get the grass green again. Having conquered that feat and attaining Goddess- of- Nature like status in the eyes of my neighbors in the process, I was unprepared for the overwhelm of maintenance that arrived on the wings of the first bluebirds of spring. My cozy and carefree 600 square foot nest that served as home for my first four years of naive seasonal bliss in NW Montana suddenly seemed very inviting again.

Alas, this season I have been a busy Goddess of Good Grief with plenty of work to do. There was the fence to finish, the lawn to get green again and mow and mow and mow, weeds to pull, weeds to pull, weeds to pull, pine needles to rake, evergreens to prune, pine trees to shape, Spirea to cry over, and 10 blighted boxwood shrubs to dig up – all with my trusty and oh so curious four-legged “helper” by my side. It was the future health and happiness of this little pup that I had in mind when I signed the mortgage papers on the largest yard in the neighborhood – not the hours and hours of yard work that would occupy every weekend.

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But then my whirlwind of agrarian activity came to a screeching halt as a gust of gardening amateur’s defeat knocked me off my feet. What in the world was I doing?  I had no idea! Well, actually I know just enough to get myself into gardening no man’s land. Not knowing what half the stuff popping out of the ground was, was the first sign that I might be in over my head – was that a  wily weed or wistful wonder? Finding out I pulled the good stuff and left the bad stuff left me nonplussed – it looked like a weed to me!

Frustration began to creep into my cultivating celebration. Refusing to be outdone by boxwood roots that also refused to be out done I almost threw a temper tantrum. My childish impatience of wanting the manicured lawn, perfectly rounded shrubs, and gardens blooming with more than just dandelions and black medic – and wanting them now – threatened to rain on my sunny disposition.

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Amid this springtime frenzy of activity,  I wonder at the circle and cycle of life. And as I spend these hours with hands in the soil or pushing the mower or trimming away the dead, I find myself in deep thought.

I feel a sense of excitement brewing inside of me – and a sense that I have been through this cycle of death and life before and I have – because I have lived it. While this winter was a hard one on my spirit, which longs for sunshine and dry mountain trails, it was nothing compared to the seasons of life I have endured of late. In the past two years, my life has been transformed and has looked and felt like my yard looks now. The deaths of my parents left me in shock; and while I went about living as best I could, I felt suffocated by guilt for being an absent daughter in their time of need and by the grief that comes with losing the two most important people in your life back to back.  But their deaths also motivated me to pursue my dreams, to finish well, and make them proud wherever life leads me.

To do this, I needed to tend to my inner landscape. Just as I called on an expert to help me identify the good and bad inhabitants of my yard and a friend to help dig up and dispose of my shrubs, I called in the help of others to see what in my life needed to be let go of, what needed to be pruned, and what held and holds promise.

As the seasons have passed, some of the the withered leaves of life I had clung to for purpose and security have begun to fall – providing a foundation for something new. The wintering of my soul revealed areas of my life that kept me frozen and alone and the bracing cold spurred me to reach for the opportunities that awaited me with change.

The tears that had for so long fallen into an abyss of sorrow now serve to water my well cultivated soul. Sprigs of hope are making their wonderful presence known. I can see growth where I pruned and I am rewarded with a heart that blossoms with laughter again. Tending one’s inner landscape is hard work. But if the promise of spring I am seeing in the garden of my life bears any likeness to what awaits the behemoth that is my yard, then all this sniveling and snorting I have been doing should be worthwhile.

For a few weak moments, I found myself slipping into the comfort of just leaving things as they were in my life and my yard – hoping they might come back in the rose-colored glory that I remembered them being – and replacing the shrubs I had torn out with more of the same. But my better angels prevailed. They said it was time for a transformation – for real change to come to fruition. For resurrection and new life.  Yes, it will take work and perseverance and more patience than I currently have, but the seeds of change have been planted, and I can’t wait to be like the Goddess of Nature again dancing in her little piece of paradise.

“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.”  – Martin Luther

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A Life in Full Circle

Growing up, Mom would fill my head with stories about her summer days as a young woman spent at Whitefish and Flathead Lakes. Her stories were filled with the wild escapades of a college girl serving as Dean of Women at Flathead Lutheran Bible camp ( Lutherans can get a little crazy, ya know) and the life of a nanny for a doctor and his wife’s little girl at Camp Carefree – where luxurious homes and Whitefish Lake Lodge now sit. These stories served to educate me on the “ways of the world” and what I certainly “must never, ever do!” but secretly, I cherished those glimpses of the woman who would become my mom. I wish I had known her back then. Perhaps she was a bit like I am today, trusting, a tad naive, full of dreams, with a playful side burning to be set free. When she told me these stories I never dreamed that I would one day be living on the stage where all these adventures and life lessons played out. 

Last night I stood gazing into the placid waters of the lake she so loved. I wondered if her thoughts might have mirrored mine. Did the quiet lapping of the water slow her heart and quiet the frenzy of life? I wondered if she could really see me now, her daughter, living out adventures and learning lessons in life in the same place she found her independence. Fortunately for me, the lessons I am learning are ones that my life will be built upon. Lessons of perseverance, patience, and promise. Lessons of storm, sorrow, and strength. Lessons of a life filled with love. 

Oh Mom, I wish I could share these days of my life with you. I wish I could see your smile and yes, even your jaw clench with worry again. I wish I could tell you MY stories and the lessons I am learning from them. I wish we could have, if only once, walked along these lakes that so captured both of our hearts. I would give anything to sit next to you in silent appreciation of the grandeur of God and wonder at the sweetness of life. 

Thank you for most of the lessons you taught me. I really did listen and now I appreciate them for what they were and are – your love for me and your hopes for the best for me. You can rest assured, your hopes have come to fruition. I miss you, Mom, and I love you more than words can say.

Emboldened for Life

On a beautiful, warm, sunny morning one year ago today, I bid a final earthly farewell to my father. It was the most difficult day of my life since the other most difficult day of my life bidding my mother a final goodbye on a cold, rainy, snowy blustery day just one year before. The shining sun warmed the earth, a breeze carried the scent of trees in bloom, and the song of birds drifted gently in from afar –  a wonderful reunion was at hand!

As the day of honoring my father unfolded I was embraced with love from oh so many who had loved my dad. The rites, the acts of honor, the gatherings, the pleasantries – all served a purpose –  not only for my dad but for getting me through the day. The week of chaotic preparation – the obit writing, the slide show, the service planning, the cremation, the notifying, the receiving of others, the trying to make sure everything was done just right – had come to an end.

Every one that had surrounded my brother and I for the days preceding were getting on with their lives –  there were tee times to make and lawns to be mowed, groceries to be bought, work to get back to, weekend getaways to get on with.

It was then that the silence set in – the reality of it all came crashing down. Spending that night alone, in the house that had been a home to so much life gave powerful testimony to what I had lost. The emptiness was paralyzing. Having powered through my emotions for days the weight of grief suddenly buried me. It would do so for days, weeks, and months to come.

Looking back on this year now I have a much different perspective. The emptiness that accompanied me through life is starting to be filled with the joy of living again. The sorrow that still lingers is now appreciated for what it is – a tribute to the depth of love I have for my parents – rather than suffocating my will to live.

As a child I was terrified of the thought that one day my parents would die. I comforted myself by presuming that I would have my own family to attend to when those that had attended to me passed on; that the family life that I had known would be carried on through us.

That wasn’t to be. Rather, I was intended to make this journey on my own –  a solitary quest for life after death. By the grace of God and with the strength of the Holy Spirit I endured. I am a new person now molded by the revealing experience of death and emboldened to meet the opportunities of life.

“Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.” – Isaiah 40:28-31

My Shepherd

A week of reflection, remembrance, and heart ache begins.  A year ago tonight I did not yet know the depth of sorrow that awaited me.

Oh Lord, You are my shepherd, there is nothing more I need.
You call me to rest in your garden and breathe in your sky;
You lead me to still waters amidst storm and fury;
You restore my soul.
You showed me the right path and I gladly follow.
For I have been through the darkest of valleys, and though I fear I do not worry;
For you are with me always;
You protect and guide and comfort me.
In times of despair you bring light and hope;
You remind me of your lovingkindness and my heart overflows.
And yes, as you promised, goodness and mercy are following me;
As I live out my life for you, oh Lord,
Forever.

A year ago I was in a much different place. I didn’t think I could ever feel at peace or find joy in my heart again. But I was wrong. It truly is well with my soul. Surely my entire life attests to the veracity of God. I do not know where I would be right now were it not for His presence.

Let your light so shine.

The Gift of Courageous Vulnerability

“Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren’t always comfortable, but they’re never weakness.”  ― Brené Brown

“Listen to me!” we demand.

“Why won’t you listen to me?” we cry out.

“Now listen here, cowboy.” We reply with defensive offense.

We all want to be listened to. As I wrote last month, listening is at the heart of all relationships. To be heard by someone close to us is an incredible gift – one that can heal the scars left by this imperfect world and bring us into communion with one another. The act of listening taps into a deeper essence of being one with another – you share a oneness that precludes backgrounds, religions, cultures and class. In that moment all you are doing is receiving the essence of another, welcoming without judgement, the reality of their life. The act of listening leads to new understanding. It allows us to connect to each other at the heart level and discover common ground and new possibilities. It may even reveal opportunities for our own growth and inner healing.

Listening, really listening, is not a passive activity.  To be a good listener you need an inner strength and confidence to not need to prove yourself with wise declarations, witty statements, or surface level sympathy. An effective listener does not need to make her presence known other than to let the one being listened to know that she is ready to receive, to welcome, and accept what the other has to say. The good listener does not need to fill the silence with platitudes or hear his own voice. The good listener can and must simply share the silence and let the silence speak.

In short, being a good listener takes work. It can be an emotional exercise and a cathartic experience for both parties. It can also be a frustrating exercise.

Yes, we all want to be listened to, but are we cognizant of how what we are saying (or not saying) is being heard?

The act of listening requires someone else – the transmitter-  being willing to share –  to give of themselves – to be vulnerable – to be honest with themselves and their listener if they want the listener to understand what they are trying to express.

Do you cross your arms in defense while hoping your partner will take you into theirs? Are you feeling lonely and withdrawn but instead of sharing this you tell someone you don’t care for crowds? Do you hide your discomfort in a situation with laughter rather than stating you are uncomfortable with that kind of language or direction of the conversation? If you are feeling pain but instead express what seems to be joy, your listener cannot help but misread your conflicting messages or miss your need to be listened to in the first place.

If we want to be heard so badly, why do we struggle so to share? For one, it is scary! Readily letting down our walls of defense sets us up for hurt, humiliation, denunciation, and personal attack – at least that is what experience has taught us.  Secondly, being vulnerable, opening ourselves up – exposing our fears and frailties – is not a natural part of our societal customs. We are taught to be brave, to carry ourselves with esteem, to put on a good front, and make a good impression.

For myself, even though I came from a loving and supportive family – I was raised to not be a burden on others, to not let my troubles become a focus for anyone else. My brother and I were raised to be “good, solid kids” and as such, though life could be hard and even unfair at times, we faced our struggles on our own –  it built character. It wasn’t until much later in life, after most of my human “frailties” had been exposed in ways far more telling than any conversation could lay bare, that I found myself seeking someway to share what was really on my heart. The trouble was, I didn’t know how.  Fortunately, the church I attended at the time offered a course entitled “Non-Violent Communication.” Ironically, the class name was later changed to Compassionate Communication – because none of the attendees wanted to admit that they communicated violently or were recipients of violent communication! In truth, we were all victims of and participants in this form of “communication” and we were all hurting, badly, in the aftermath of communication gone bad.

Indeed, communication – both the acts of transmitting and listening – has incredible power – the power to heal and the power to maim. Those who haven’t been heard by others – especially those close to them – feel they have been invalidated, that their thoughts have no real worth, that their presence in others’ lives really doesn’t matter, that their troubles are inconsequential, and their goals lacking.

Likewise, those who demand to be heard but fail to be honest in their expression and  then cast offense or blame on those around them when they fail to read their mixed signals invite the exact opposite response to their need to be heard.

Communication can be a powerful force for good when done well and a powerful force for evil when done poorly or not at all. We all have the capacity to engage in violent communication – that which inflicts pain – and compassionate communication –  that which heals.   We are born with the tools to communicate but not the skills to use them. Thus, we learn as we go. The environment in which we learn to communicate will shape us and the nature of our relationships for life.

We all have been bruised by communication failures – some bruises naturally go much deeper than others. What each person brings to the dance of understanding is the great enigma of our past communication experiences. Learning to dance with one another to  music of the spoken and the understood heart is the secret to communicating with compassion.  It means having the courage to lay aside our need to be right as the listener and the courage to be vulnerable so that we can be lifted up and understood as the listened to. True strength is hidden in our mutual vulnerability.  To be heard by someone close to us is an incredible gift – one that can heal the scars left by this imperfect world and bring us into communion with one another. But there is another gift of equal value – that you the courageous vulnerable one can give the good listener – your trust. When both are given freely, you will find yourself in the sacred space of giving and receiving, the place where true healing and true relationship are found.

Let your light so shine.