Cocooning

My good friend Margie, on her blog, shares the deeply difficult and Christ-infused journey of living with a husband who has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Recently, Margie posted an entry about reading the biblical "Noah" story to her daughter:

I read the story of Noah to the kids this week. The Lord opened that scripture to my heart and mind in a way I had never known it before. I can't describe it fully, I just know it fed me. One thing I took away was imagining what that time in the ark must have been like. Noah had spent over one hundred years and probably his life's savings building the thing.

And then once they got in, there was a long wait before anything happened. I thought of John and me sealed up in our "ark" of marriage and waiting for the journey that God has prepared for us to begin. And then it begins with a bang. Imagine how terrifying it must have been to hear the storm and feel the unleashed waters of the deep lifting and tossing the ark in a tempest. We, too, are in a tempest. We are warm (except for the ice on the door) and dry, our basic needs are met, but we are, nonetheless, in a tempest.

But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and he sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded. (Genesis 8:1) God knows we are huddled together in the ark waiting out the storm. He is in complete control and we are waiting for him to send a wind so that the waters will recede.

I have imagined the details of Noah's journey in a similiar way, and I can relate to Margie's description of being fed somehow. Over the last six years, the story has provided profound sustenance during stormy days. In light of Margie's entry, and thoughts about storms, I find it interesting that today I received an email with the following excerpt from You Were Made For This, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these -- to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

I love that image of soul on deck. It calls to me somehow. Perhaps I will adopt it as a motto for moving into midlife:

Soul on deck: a lantern fully lit. May I burn. . . brave, fierce and merciful!


To share in Margie and John's journey, check out their blogs: www.margiefawcett.blogspot.com www.johnfawcett.blogspot.com It blesses me to know that people world-wide are praying for them!

Ryker has been sick all week with the flu, and I've been trying to survive TWO boys at home with "nothing to do." All the extra tube-time, rough-housing, and testosterone-revving Playstation games have pushed me to the edge. And so when Ryker invited me to a quiet, sit-down game of Monopoly the other day, I was thrilled!

Monopoly is Ryker's favorite. Whenever we play, we create a "fast-forward" version, where properties are dealt out like cards. Only a few properties are set aside for actual purchase. And then we negotiate between the two of us for some win-win monopolies. "I'll give you Park Place if I can have your Railroads" kind of thing. Starting with an excess of cash also gives the game a kick start.

Ryker has a knack for acquiring premiere properties fast, and building hotels even faster. He whoops my butt, even when I'm not "letting" him. When we pulled the board out yesterday, it wasn't long before I owed him big money. Of course, more than I had. For awhile, he celebrated his mountains of cash, jumping up like a football fan every time I landed on his big, money-sucking, red-rising monopolies.

But then suddenly, after much whooping and hollering, Ryker's whole demeanor changed. His body slumped down into his seat. "Here," he said, handing me a $500 bill.

Even with upbeat assurance from me that I was having a blast, and that this was simply the "name of the game," Ryker seemed moved with compassion. Concern rippled through his body like a wave (literally) whenever I owed him money.

It seemed that he couldn't stand to see me selling houses, or mortgaging properties to come up with a balance due. He'd shiver with emotion, grab another $500 bill (from his stacks of thousands), and hand it over to me as if trying to ward off that awful feeling of seeing his mom in such a vulnerable position. (Sad, because I guess this suggests he's more in touch with our financial reality than I want him to be.)

I would laugh and say, "You have a good heart, Ryker, but I don't need your money. Really! It's okay to win!" The more I resisted, the more he insisted. He'd let me out of jail free. He'd overlook my obligation to pay taxes. He'd even ask me to "roll again" when the dice didn't show doubles. I'd laugh some more and think, "Maybe mercy is one of his spiritual gifts???"

Today, while Sean napped, we gave Monopoly another whirl. This time, though, Ryker built his properties a little TOO fast. Soon, he was low on cash, and the person he "owed" was ME. I tried to help him sell hotels and mortgage properties where he could--practicing his math skills while we were at it. And all the while I was sitting on a stack of money, thinking, "He always wins. Don't create a sense of entitlement by cushioning this loss. It's good for him to learn that one doesn't always win in games or at life."

Obviously, Ryker didn't acquire the gift of mercy from me.

It took several rounds of play before my heart softened. "Ryker, I'd like to help you rebuild your properties on this side of the board," I said, forking over a large stack of money and grabbing a handful of recently discarded hotels.

"Why are you helping me, Mom?" he asked, truly unaware of the obvious answer.

"Because you helped me, Ryker. You showed me mercy so many times yesterday. Now, I'm showing mercy to you."

And then I thought to myself, How is it that a game is never "just a game?"

"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love MERCY, and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

I've started a new knitting project! And it wasn't until I sat down to write this post that I realized the spiritual significance of my pattern choice! I'm knitting a matinee swing jacket. . . . a NEW COAT of sorts! (For more on this, check out my post--Old Coats)

I'm so excited about taking on something new, something that's a "step up" for me in terms of difficulty. Still a beginner pattern, but sewing sleeves together? A new challenge! The picture shows the jacket in gold, but I'm making mine in black. Isn't it cool?

Maybe this, too, is a metaphor for my life! I want to step up spiritually--truly live the love of Christ. Live what I believe. Especially with my family. I don't want to snap at my children when they're acting out for attention. I want to give them what they need. I want to be emotionally present, gentle, patient, kind. I want to wrap them in the warm love of Christ. I have so far to go. . .

The lady at the yarn store offered me advice that I will take to heart as a New Year's resolution, words to live by: "Don't give up! Be willing to read the pattern repeated times. And don't be afraid to unravel mistakes!"

Don't give up: "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9

Read the pattern: "Oh, how I love your law! I meditate on it all day long. . .Your statutes are wonderful; therefore I obey them. The unfolding of your words gives light; it gives understanding to the simple" Psalm 119:97, 129-130

Unravel mistakes without fear: "Who is a God like you who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance?" Micah7:18

My favorite table at the nearby fabric outlet is the one labeled Remnants. WE are the remnant of his inheritance being knit together in love. He never gives up on us. He patterns our lives for his purpose. And our transgressions he willingly pardons!

To check out this pattern, go to: http://www.lionbrand.com/patterns/60468.html?noImages=

My coat is old. A $10.00 garage sale "find" from several years back.

Long and green, with fur around the collar, the quilted covering has kept me warm--served it's purpose--until a few days ago when the zipper broke. Now I clutch it closed with two hands, hold it around me while I brave the freezing Minnesota cold. And as fate would have it, soon after the zipper broke temperatures dove into the dangerous wind-chilling negatives.

Zipper or no zipper, I still like my coat and wear it. Because I'll never forget the garage sale where it was bought. The season was fall, and I had $60.00 in my pocket. There was nothing "wearable" in my closet, and so I had asked God to make my money stretch. I needed an entire winter wardrobe. (With a $60.00 budget, even bargain-predictable Kohl's was out of the question.)

At this sale, there were tables and tables of clothes that just happened to be my exact size. To fully appreciate this as miracle, you must understand that in my area most sales boast clothes that are Supermodel-sized. (And yes, the women running these garage sales are well-put-together moms whom--even after having seven kids--can still wear the sickeningly skinny sizes)

And so it seemed truly spectacular when I stumbled across a sale where there was an entire table of size 12 Eddie Bauer jeans. I bought five pairs. There were also racks and racks of sweaters. Adorable. Things I'd actually wear.

And then there was the coat.

My sister, Sue, was the first to see it and grab it off the rack. (Which told me instantly that this was no ugly, 80's style coat). "Cute" she said, studying it for rips or stains or anything that would deem it "unworthy."

"Yeah, that's soooo cute!" I said, holding my breath and praying that somehow she'd put it back. I was so excited when she finally read the tag and handed the coat over. Sue's a tiny size 2 (no exaggeration). And the coat was an extra-large. Yes! God's provisions for me are perfectly sized!

Now that I've worn the coat out, I've been thinking about that garage sale, wondering anew about the Lord's provisions. The season in my life is changing. And I know it's time for me to let go of what's old, asking, hoping, and trusting again for something new.

How long will I hug my problems and concerns around me like an old coat, instead of acknowledging God's provisions as a much better covering?

This week, a favorite verse on which I've been meditating is Isaiah 26:3, "You will keep in perfect peace [her] whose mind is steadfast, because [she] trusts in you."

The Hebrew translation of "perfect peace" is peace peace. I love this. . . as if "perfect" peace is a double portion that comes like a hush from a Holy Mother. "Shhh, my precious one. . . . I give you peace. . . peace." Soft, soothing words whispered in an attentive child's ear.

As a harried mother of three (ages 9, 6, and 3), my favorite and sometimes only place to meditate is the shower. It's the closest I've come to understanding the Bible's references to a literal "strong tower." For five minutes each day, I'm alone. Shower walls stand tall and strong--protecting me from all sides. The shower head sprays warm. "You will keep in peace peace, she whose mind is steadfast. You will keep in peace. . . peace. . .peace. . .peace. . . . "

I let the water and Word wash over me. "I trust you Jesus. My mind is set on You." Spirit-breathed 'Script'- tures replace my own cyclical, life-draining scripts. Worries, fears, and doubts flow away.

"Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. For I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden light."

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. --Mary Schmich

Yesterday I wrote about hope, and trying to cling to the Hope-giver. I mentioned how hard it is to wrap my arms around the very thing I need when metaphorically my arms feel so tired and weak.

After signing off on that post, I went upstairs and opened my bible to Hebrews 11. It was a passage referenced in my biblestudy material, and even though I know the gist of Hebrews 11, I decided to reread it. (It's my new thing: read every verse referenced in the material, even if you think you know it.) It was more of an impulse than a choice, because I wasn't even sitting down to study. I was simply walking through my kitchen, saw the reference on a photocopy, flipped open my bible, and started reading right there, with bible on the stove. I was awestruck.

"Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet so that the lame will not be disabled, but rather HEALED." --Hebrews 12:12

Strengthen your feeble arms! A direct word from God, immediately after posting about being weak armed. "Hang on Cheri! Have hope. Have faith."

Within the same passage, the image of HOME also jumped off the page: "By faith Abraham made his home in the promised land." (Hebrews 11:9)

I pondered that for awhile. . . The desire for a home has been in my heart for a long time. I've wrestled with being "at home" in all circumstances. Broken, run down homes have also appeared in my dreams, teaching me about wisdom, creativity and possibility.

I wondered, Why did it take faith for Abe to settle in Caanan, a land that was already promised him? God had already given the land, and so making a home there, why would that be hard? Why doubt that?

But then I realized that the journey was all about faith. First, acting on the word that had been given to him. Traveling to Canaan. Then, arriving in Caanan--a land occupied by an entire nation of other people. He must have thought, Did I hear you right, God? I'm supposed to make my home here? It had to be discouraging and doubt-provoking. Abraham's every action was based on a simple, Spirit-whispered promise, that at times probably felt as tenuous as a wisp of cotton candy on the tongue.

While reading, I felt God nudging ME to believe, and honestly it scared me. "Lord, I'm not sure what to believe! What's the promise? What is my Caanan?"

And the Lord answered with a WHO not a what. "Fix your eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of your faith." (Hebrews 12:2) The Word is alive, and I truly felt that I was dialoguing with it. I was deeply blessed, surprised, stirred, challenged.

So, I've come full circle, and I'm back to what I wrote yesterday: I want to cling to my Hope-giver and Faith-perfecter with all my might. It's amazing that today I cling with more than just a pinky finger. After a healing encounter with the Scriptures, I hold on with arms strengthened by God.

I changed my blog music. . . did you notice? Monica Schroeder's "Peace" and Vienna Teng's "Lullaby for a Stormy Night" are both my sung prayers for the New Year.

I was told that filing bankruptcy has emotional implications, beyond the paper and the numbers and the logistics of finances. I'm not sure I believed this would apply to me and my process. Arrogant or ignorant? Perhaps both. . . . But, after signing and submitting our petition, I'm definitely experiencing a surge of shame and deep sadness.

I'm sad, but at the same time cautiously hopeful.

My biblestudy group is reading "Front Porch Reflections" together and one of the devotions we discussed today said, "Ask the Lord to reveal the plans he has for you in the coming year." I balked, thinking Who would want to know that? That's too scary! (Almost like asking a fortune teller to reveal secrets we're not meant to know.) I'm simply content to live each day, I thought.

It's good to live in the moment, but at the same time I recognize my balking as unbelief. Jeremiah 29:11 says, "For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord, "they are plans for good and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." Do I trust God about this? I don't know. I want to embrace hope, wrap my arms around the Hope-giver and hang on with all my might.

That's what I want. . .but my arms feel terribly tired and weak.

Hannah shared something with me in biblestudy this morning that she'd seen on the Today Show. She asked me to put out my arm and tighten my muscles so as to resist her hand pushing mine down. She applied firm pressure, but I was able to keep my arm steady. It didn't move. Then Hannah told me to repeat the phrase, "I'm not worthy" three times.

I'm not worthy.
I'm not worthy.
I'm not worthy.

She then asked me to extend my arm once again. This time when she pushed, my arm couldn't withstand the pressure. My strength, my resolve, my determination had been weakened by one shameful thought.

And so I pray with Monica Schroeder, "No more worries tonight. I will just breathe the air. I'd like some peace tonight. No more fear tonight. And I won't cry anymore. I'd like some peace tonight."

In my heart, I add the line: "No more shame tonight."

With my pinky finger, I'm clinging to the Hope-giver, and along with Vienna Teng, trying to trust that my beloved moon is simply masked.

Lyrics to Lullaby for a Stormy Night

(To hear the song, simply wait for Monica Schroeder's song to finish. It's second on my auto play list. You might have to read some older blog entries while you wait for it to play!)

little child, be not afraid
though rain pounds harshly against the glass
like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger
I am here tonight

little child, be not afraid
though thunder explodes and lightning flash
illuminates your tear-stained face
I am here tonight

and someday you'll know
that nature is so
the same rain that draws you near me
falls on rivers and land
on forests and sand
makes the beautiful world that you'll see
in the morning

little child, be not afraid
though storm clouds mask your beloved moon
and its candlelight beams, still keep pleasant dreams
I am here tonight

little child, be not afraid
though wind makes creatures of our trees
and their branches to hands, they're not real, understand
and I am here tonight

or you know, once even I was a
little child, and I was afraid
but a gentle someone always came
to dry all my tears,
trade sweet sleep for fears
and to give a kiss goodnight

well now I am grown
and these years have shown
that rain's a part of how life goes
but it's dark and it's late
so I'll hold you and wait'til your frightened eyes do close
and I hope that you'll know...

everything's fine in the morning
the rain'll be gone in the morning
but I'll still be here in the morning

Did you know that Japanese believe the first dream of the New Year to be auspicious?

A friend of mine who conducts dream workshops recently e-mailed an invitation to attend one of her dream salons. In the email she included the "auspicious" tidbit. Immediately, my mind rewound to a dream I had had a few days ago. I wondered, What day was that again? After reviewing my mental calendar I determined it was a dream I'd had on New Year's Day morning. Therefore, my FIRST and most fortunate or promising.

In this dream, I was pregnant.

Excited about having another baby, and feeling somewhat competent, I was sitting with another woman who had just had a baby. She was asking questions about feeding and nursing patterns. She wanted to know if she should nurse first, and feed solids later, or the other way around. I told her that I had always fed solids first, hoping to fill my children up as much as possible before offering the breast. The goal being children who would learn to depend less and less on me as their primary source for "everything."

After reflecting on my New Year night-gift, and asking God what the images might mean, I've come to this:

The dream seems to be announcing a new season of parenthood AND personhood. (NO, I don't think it means we will have MORE children!) Instead, I think it means that what my kids need from me is shifting. My youngest is three, but already I am sensing he's ready for more than "just me." He's probably ready for preschool, or some type of child care. And with this bankruptcy wiping our slate clean within the next few months, I'm hungry for a major life change. A full time job of some sort?

I'm also turning 40 this year. And I'm asking myself what I want the second half of my life to look like. What personal changes must I undertake to ready myself for happiness? Because I need to believe that the last 7 years of suffering were necessary, but not meant to be eternal. Things can be different. I can "like" my life. I can live my values, overcome poverty, and celebrate prosperity.

I know that this all sounds very un-Christian. I mean, we're not supposed to pursue happiness in and of itself, right? We're supposed to pursue God. And I know from personal experience that we can strive to change certain circumstances, but sometimes our efforts are futile. God has a different plan. The last seven years have made me question "control" and how much we can really determine destiny. (Isn't that an oxymoron? Determine destiny?)

But, for me, 2008 is going to be about finding a way to be happy. And as narcissistic as it might sound, I still think God is in it somehow.

I'm hopeful, prayerful, and pregnant with expectation.

Another promising tidbit related to my dream? I LOVED being pregnant with all three of my children. Out of my 40 lived years, those 27 months (combined) were my most radiant and joyful!