Because I Love Him...

Because I love my husband, I let him talk me into this.  Months of preparation and hundreds of dollars later, we are completely outfitted for a 3-day, 19-mile backpacking trip along the Superior Trail.  We leave tomorrow.  He was kind enough to book a B&B for the first night, but the next two nights will be in our pup tent in 30-40 degree weather.

Because I love my husband, I'm trying not to think about the fact that we will have no chairs to sit on, no toilets, no heat.  He assures me we can probably find a log to sit on, and he reminds me that I've squatted plenty of times in the deep woods over the years...it's...freeing.  Oh, and he'll keep me warm.  Promise.

He is so excited about all the great food we will eat, which we've been dehydrating all summer.  Lasagna, chicken tetrazzini, hungry man breakfast, asian chicken and rice, and even hummus for lunch.  Other than the fact that you have to add the word "stew" to the dish when you rehydrate it, I have to admit the meals are pretty tasty.  He even made little de-natured alcohol stoves for us out of beer cans.  We'll have coffee and hot chocolate, he assures.  He planned everything to his typical enginerd's nth degree.

Lest you think ours is a nearly 20-year marriage of romance and adventure, let me correct you.  There are dry seasons where we treat each other like roommates.  For years, he traveled incessantly with work and I wanted to wring his innocent neck for leaving me alone with 3 little ones.  We forget our anniversary sometimes...like, the last two years, when my mom had to remind us.  Next year is the 20th.  We promised each other we wouldn't forget!

I have a big, long list of "perfect, Proverbs 31-type wifely behaviors."  Kiss him when he walks in the door.  Never tell him "not tonight."  Never complain about him to others.  Smell good.  Cook good.  Be kind.  Give him back scratches.  Be frugal.  But this list is like many other lists I've made over the years...great ideas, poor execution.  My heart is willing, my mind is persuaded, but my will is stubborn and selfish.

I'm hoping my trek into the wilderness will somewhat compensate for the swiss cheese holes in my character.  It's gotta count for something!

This Is Not the Song I Meant to Write

This Is Not the Song I Meant to Write

“These are not the lines that came to me…”-Billy Collins

This is not the song I meant to write

The one with clever insight

And the heavenly melody

The chorus crammed with majesty

It’s the late night tune of a tired mom

An ordinary psalm

From the kitchen chapel, drinking Snapple

Washing dishes, praying wishes

This is not the song I meant to sing

It should have been inspiring

But it’s out of key, no symphony

And the rhythm isn’t steady

I should probably crumple up these lines

They’ll never make a dime

Go fold the clean clothes, thaw out the pot roast

Scrub the floor and pray some more

This is like the middle of a book

That isn’t very good

It doesn’t make you laugh, it doesn’t make you cry

You  keep reading on but you don’t know why

This is not the song I meant to write

I’ve wasted all this time

I’m going to the back yard, out in the deep dark

to write a good song, I hope I won’t be too long

Peace, Balance, and Other Pipedreams

On behalf of myself and others, I have prayed for peace more times than I can count.  Peace in the midst of trials; peace about a decision made; peace for the haggard mind.   I wonder why peace is the hand that holds me one moment, and the kite string that slips through my fingers the next.

If I decide to be at peace with a situation, wham! a torrent of discontent washes through me. Peace is not a perpetual rain, it is an oasis in the desert, where you splash your face and drink before it evaporates in the heat.  

Christ said, "Peace I leave with you.  My peace I give to you, not at the world gives, but as a friend." 
 -John 14:27

What does He mean?

I think He means that we are travelers passing through this awkward world, and what we need more than anything is a friend.  The world says peace is a lack of interior conflict.  Christ implies that peace is a Friend who reminds you that heaven alone is the absence of conflict.  

This all wraps around to an odd truth, which dawned on me while driving home yesterday listening to Andrew Peterson's new CD.  Peace comes from accepting there is no peace...here, yet.

Balance is as elusive as peace.  That earth tilts on its axis is no coincidence; it is one of a million natural word pictures operating as a metaphor for life on earth.  

We, as eternal beings, were never meant to find balance and peace in the confines of time.  We long for more time, so that everything that we value can receive our attention, but the hourglass, the pendulum clock, the sun dialing across the sky...they are all unforgiving.  

So I splash my face and call it one day closer to peace.

I Will Not Be Moved

I will not be moved.

That phrase keeps rising, like bubbles breaking on the surface, from songs and scripture and readings I've done recently.  

It's what I've needed to embrace after a season of wrestling with God and myself about a multitude of things.  

Psalm 125:1-2 Those who trust in the LORD are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever.  As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people, from this time on and forevermore.


I think back to my trips this summer, where 90% of my time involved setting my feet on rocks and being surrounded by mountains.  And yet spiritually, I felt I was floundering in the water, like my daughter who panicked in the deep Canadian lake waters and had to be rescued.  By me.  

Does God feel the same kind of pleasure/relief that I felt setting my shaking daughter's feet on the rock?  When he hears me say "I will not be moved," does He sing for joy, and rouse the angels for a chorus of glee?  
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For the Lord your God is living among you.  He is a mighty savior.  He will take delight in you with gladness.  With his love he will calm all your fears.  He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.
-Zephaniah 3:17



I was part of a healing prayer on Sunday.  My friend, Kelly, just learned that her breast cancer is back.  Stage 4. I was privileged to touch her knee and plead with God on her behalf.  On her children's behalf.  

I don't know if God will choose to miraculously heal her.  I promised Him that I would tell the story and sing the song, no matter what.  But I can tell you that something healed in me during those 2 hours.  The Rock beneath my feet rose up, a tectonic force pushing upward the great, heavy crust of my faith to form a mountain.  I rose up.  God came low.  The space between us was imperceptible.  I poured every passion and plea I had into Kelly, because, if nothing else, I wanted her feet to be firmly planted on the Rock of her Salvation, too.  


This song has spoken deeply to me.  Take a moment to listen.