"Not in My Backyard"

I've seen this phrase tossed around a bit regarding stances on refugees, and I don't understand why people are so offended by it. I wholeheartedly agree. Have people in my backyard? No. Absolutely not. That would be utterly ridiculous.

It's cold out there. What if you're a family with little kids? There are no lights out there to turn on in case they get scared of the dark. Not to mention that there isn't much room in three squares of cement, and cement is no place for you to sleep.

Come into my home.

Come into my home and stay with us. Sleep on our bed, use our kitchen, use our towels, use whatever you need, whatever you'd like. What do you need? If we don't have it, we'll get it. Teach me how to cook your favorite foods, and don't worry about paying for the groceries. Teach me about who you are, what you love, what you're passionate about, what makes you laugh. Teach me about your country, and please have patience and grace for me in my ignorance. Let me laugh with you; let me cry with you. (Fair warning, I cry pretty easily.) Please let us share what we have with you. It's not much, but it would be our great privilege to share it with you.

If you ask me if I've believed all of the vitriolic rhetoric surrounding refugees, I'll tell you honestly that I did at first; that I still fight the shadows of doubts and fears and prejudices. I will ask for your forgiveness with tears in my eyes, because I am truly sorry for allowing fear to be my first response. But I want to learn how to be driven by love and compassion. I'll tell you that I was scared to open my home to people I don't know. But I don't want my fear to be bigger than my love. I'll tell you that, at my core, I battle with extreme selfishness, greed, and fear, and I need to kill those impulses daily. I'll tell you that I still have so much to learn about love, and that opening my home is a chance to learn more about sacrificial love. I want to learn how to love in practical, specific ways...not simply in abstract ideals.

If you ask me then why I've opened my home and my life to you even though I was afraid, I will gladly tell you about the One who owns everything I have and everything I am. The One who gave me everything I have so I could share it with you. The One who gently teaches me that my love should be bigger than my fear. The One who promises that no matter what happens on this earth, in this nation, in this family, in this home, to the people I love more than words can express...He holds the eternal future. The One who loves you, and who weeps with you. He's too big for my words to express, and I hope my actions do more justice when my words fail.

If you don't want to ask, if you just need to be listened to, if you just need a quiet, safe space, come into my home. But please, not in my backyard. It's cold out there.

Life Lessons from Trudy: Hospitality

Ryan and I had the immense pleasure of hosting some good friends from Illinois as they passed through Laramie on their way to climb Devils Tower. We had six road-weary and stoke-heavy climbers in our apartment, and I couldn't have been happier about it. 

Chess, vinyl, and 007 on N64. Life is very good.

I love hosting people. I love having people over, making food, and planning adventures. Heck, I even love cleaning the apartment before people get there. (Seriously. Ask Ryan.) I love creating a space for people to rest in. It's a way in which I can care for people, and I love to love people. More and more, I find that I like to host people because I feel like Ryan and I have been given so much, and I want to give back.

I have always been tongue-in-cheek when I've said that one of my mother's primary spiritual gifts is hospitality. But now that I have my own space within which to create a home, I'm not so sure it's as flippant of a statement as I initially thought. All growing up I remember Trudy effortlessly, gracefully, and warmly inviting people into home. It was our home, but it was also home for anyone and everyone who needed a home. Sure, there was often a lot of work involved in preparing a place for people, but she found joy in that as simply another part of caring for people. It wasn't a chore for her to stay up late the night before Thanksgiving to make sure that there was enough food for all of the college students who couldn't travel home for the holiday; it was a lot of work, but it was never a chore. Trudy cared for people so much that it was a privilege for her to get to serve them, no matter the cost to herself. And she never, ever made others feel the weight of the work to prepare for their arrival. She never pressured people to enjoy themselves at the risk of offending her. She simply created a place for people, and invited them in to be themselves.

At it's heart, hospitality isn't about having the right pillows or towels or decor. It's not about having the house sparkling clean and neatly organized. It's not about showing off Suzie Homemaker skills. Hospitality is about caring for people. It's a privilege and an act of worship, because I truly believe that God is glorified when we love and care for others.

So, Trudy...thank you for setting that Godly example growing up. Thank you for the way you taught me to love people. Thank you for teaching me to share what I have, even when it doesn't feel like much. Thank you for teaching me how to delight in the details of serving people. Thank you for showing me that serving people is a privilege and a joy. Thank you for teaching me that hospitality is more about what people feel than what they see. Thank you for the way you love people as an act of worship and thanksgiving to God. I am thankful for you, and I am doing my best to do what you taught me!

On Joy

This draft has been sitting on my heart for a few weeks. It's vulnerable for me to write about hard things, and it's easy for me to worry over who this might be forwarded on to. But hard things are real, and real things can lead to deep lessons, and deep lessons are worth sharing. Right? So, here's my heart.

The past few weeks I've been thinking quite a bit about Joy. I'll admit that this season of life for me has been discouraging. I've been feeling tired, discouraged, accused, distrusted, burdened, and weary. I'm so weary. I think only recently I've realized how worn down I've become. But in the midst of this heaviness, I'm grateful for moments of refreshment and restoration. I've felt rebuilt and restored as I've gotten to meet up with old friends and new family. I've had sweet times on sunny porches that wind up with confessions of hurt that lead to healing tears. I've been able to laugh from my toes while sharing salsa and seltzer with dear women in my life here. I've glowed with the feeling of being so loved with kisses on the temple for no reason whatsoever. I've been reminded of the beauty of autumn colors: deep, rich, muted golds and greens and maroons. I've felt at peace in the wilderness, and I've been reminded of the ways God speaks to me there. I've been reminded of how much I love writing and reading words. I've snuggled up with old and new friends with s'mores around a fire. I've been working on engaging in spontaneous time with friends, and been surprised by how easy it can be to enjoy moments that aren't scheduled (this is big for me). I've become more and more grateful for my husband and the patient love he shows me each day. I milked a goat. (See? Spontaneity.) I've learned new games and been reminded of old favorites. I've taken small risks and have received sweet joys.


I've been so hungry for community, but hesitant to seek it for a lot of different reasons. There are large parts of my heart that are still sore from recent experiences, and the temptation is to let those parts harden. And, if I'm honest with myself, I can see that I've let those parts harden to some measure because I've given up on community for the past few months. I haven't been seeking community, and I've been slowly hardening the parts of my heart that have been hurt. Not in an antagonistic, angry, or bitter way, but definitely in a defensive measure to protect my heart. 

But even as I try to close myself off, God is rescuing me from myself and from these reclusive tendencies. He's been sending me reminders of joy and healing my perspective of community through...community. There is something so deeply necessary about friendship without an agenda. I am being reminded of how to participate in relationship without looking for or assuming an agenda in the other person, and I'm finding such healing and joy in the process. I've said before that we experience celebration to the degree that we experience grief, and I'm learning how applicable that core thought is across relationships as well: I can only heal to the degree that I am vulnerable, as hard as that vulnerability might feel after being hurt. The sweetness of Joy is so strengthening in heavy times, but I can only experience the joy of community to the degree that I'm willing to be vulnerable. 

I am still very much in the process of learning these lessons, and of being able to (or willing to) articulate them to others. But I think they're worth looking into.

Maundy Thursday

Lent is my favorite season in the liturgical calendar. I love the extended time to focus on the life, ministry, and death of Christ. And I love the anticipation that it builds toward celebrating the Resurrection! It can be such a beautiful season of fasting, grieving, and thorough celebration.

To be honest, this season of Lent hasn't felt very focused for me. Ryan and I were out of town for nearly every weekend in March, which put our search for a church home in Laramie on hold for a bit longer than we were expecting. In addition to that, work at SROM has been incredibly full and a little overwhelming for me at times. It's been a hard season to focus! But I'm realizing that I am thankful for two things: one, that my salvation is not based on whether or not I can keep myself focused and fasting for forty days. And, two, that there is still time to experience some of the richness of this season! God is so good like that, isn't He? To remind us of things that we've distracted ourselves from in enough time to still get to experience them! What a gift!

I pray that in this weekend is a time of rest and reflection. I pray for the grace to sit at the feet of my Lord and meditate on His sacrifice. I pray for a deeper understanding of the Resurrection, and an overwhelming joy and celebration on Sunday!
 

Jehovah Jireh

"Jehovah Jireh

My Provider

His grace is sufficient for me"

 

Ryan and I were in San Fransisco last week for his brother's wedding (which was spectacular!) and then spent the next few days exploring. We were so grateful to get to spend time with his family in California, and we couldn't be happier for Eric and Jenn! 

(my best man)

After the wedding on Saturday, we spent the next Sunday and Monday hanging out with his family and exploring local vineyards, olive oil presses, and the bay area of San Fransisco. We got a little taste of California's redwoods on Monday morning, which got us even more excited for Yosemite! We made it to the park on Tuesday evening, and even squeezed in a little hike after setting up camp Tuesday night. (We probably could have hiked for longer if I hadn't stopped so often to gape at the gorgeous views and take pictures of everything.)

 

Wednesday we hiked up the Mist Trail to Vernal and Nevada falls. We stopped for lunch at the top of Nevada Falls, and reconsidered our options for the rest of the day. Though we had initially thought of just hiking to the waterfalls, we changed our itinerary and decided to continue on the Muir Trail up to Glacier Point. It was a long, hot, dry hike, but the views were absolutely spectacular. The hike up the Panorama Trail gave us an incredible perspective, and we could see Half Dome, all of Vernal and Nevada Falls, and Illilouette Falls. From Glacier Point, we could see nearly the entire valley. It was well worth the 16+ miles and staggering back to camp after dark!

 

We slept in on Thursday morning, packed up camp, did a few quick (paved) trails to Lower Yosemite Falls and Bridal Veil Falls, and said goodbye to Yosemite. We had been hoping to spend some time in the Tahoe National Forest, but realized that it would take us way further out of our way than we had initially planned for. So we stopped at Lake Tahoe for a few hours instead!

Representing SROM at Lake Tahoe!

We drove across most of Nevada on Friday, and stopped for dinner in the little town of Wendover, just west of the Salt Flats of Utah. When we got back on the one-way section of I-80 after dinner, the dreaded engine light came on and the engine gauge indicated that we were in danger of overheating. We pulled over, popped the hood, and let the engine cool down a bit. Ryan checked the coolant levels and we were completely dry...it had sprayed out and was leaking out the bottom of the car. Thankfully we had filled up our water bottles before we had left that morning, so we had plenty of water to use until we could make it to a gas station (54 miles away) for coolant. 

Unfortunately, it wasn't quite that easy. We started driving again, and almost immediately had to pull over again. The engine was still indicating dangerously high temperatures. As it turns out, the radiator hose had separated from the radiator, and all of our water had drained out. We had the Jeep towed to a local mechanic in Wendover and booked a hotel for the night. After the mechanic had taken a look at it, he showed Ryan and I that it wasn't as simple as replacing the radiator hose; the piece of the radiator that connects to the hose had completely melted off, and we would need to replace the entire radiator. He said he had found one at the local junkyard that seemed like it would work, and that he still would probably be able to get us on the road by closing time (3:00pm). If the one from the junkyard couldn't work, the mechanic said he could order one and have it in Wendover by Tuesday. (Tuesday!!)

(there's just something poetic about being broken down in the desert)

Long story short, the junkyard radiator was just different enough that it couldn't work. Ryan and I rented a car, drove to Salt Lake City, and searched for a radiator there. The parts store that had initially said they had the correct radiator had the same model as the junkyard: no good for us. We finally found a usable radiator in the little town of Toole, and made it back to Wendover at around 4:00pm. The mechanic (who I now believe is a chain-smoking angel on earth) stayed late in order to get the radiator in our Jeep and get us on the road!

As we were (finally) driving back to Wyoming, I had a lot of time to think about God and His provision. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. God provided a radiator and a skilled (and generous) mechanic for us in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada! But that is not what makes God my Provider. 

God is my Provider because He has provided an atonement for my sin and a way back to restored relationship with Him. As the season of Lent draws to a close, I'm so grateful for this reminder! Yes, God has and continues to provide for Ryan and I. On a very tangible level, I get to continue to work at SROM because God provides financial support for me each and every month! But I think I can get too used to the idea that God provides what I think I need on a day-to-day basis, and I forget that the greatest demonstration of His provision is first and foremost that He provided a way for this sinner to return to Him. If we had been stuck in Wendover for a year, God would still be Provider. If all of my monthly financial support stopped today, God would still be Provider. If all of my perceived needs were never met again, God would still be Provider.

It's a hard concept for me to wrestle around in my mind. I confess, I think I've become comfortable. I've become accustomed to having enough to eat and a safe place to live; I'm accustomed to having my basic needs met. And while I absolutely recognize that it is all from God's hand that these things come, I'm tempted to base my understanding of His provision on whether or not my needs are being met. As Ryan and I were searching for a radiator, I confess being a little frustrated with God: "Why haven't You provided one yet? Are You going to provide in my timing, or am I going to have to figure this one out myself?" I began to wane in my trust of His provision because I was too narrowly focused on the here and now. Jehovah Jireh, my Provider. His grace is sufficient for me. His grace is sufficient for me.

His grace is sufficient for me. In His grace, He provided a perfect Savior for me. If I don't see that as enough, I am woefully underestimating my own sinfulness and His righteousness.

Lord, You are my Provider. You provided a way where there was none. You provided a perfect sacrifice through Jesus, and You provide grace for each day. Thank You. And thank You for little day-to-day reminders of Your total provision. You are so Good. You are so Good to me.

On Valentines

Remember back in elementary school when you would bring in enough Valentines treats for everyone in your class, and everyone got candy taped to red cards with your name scrawled in purple or pink crayon? I think we should bring those days back. Those were great times...especially because the most common candies to distribute were Reese's, and Reese's are delicious.

I did some brief research on St. Valentine (VERY brief...as in I looked him up on Wikipedia and crossed my fingers hoping that it hadn't been 'revised' past all truth) and found an interesting note. According to Wikipedia, "the name "Valentine" derived from valens (worthy, strong, powerful)." (Full disclosure: I did do some minor punctuation edits to that quote.)

"Worthy, strong, powerful." I like that a heck of a lot better than the images usually conjured by Valentine's Day...images of pinks and reds and fuzzy baby animals blushing and blowing kisses to one another. (Not that those things are inherently bad, they're just not my thing.) "Worthy," "strong," and "powerful" are all words that I want to characterize my life and my love.

How do we love worthily? What does it mean to have a strong, powerful love? What does it mean to love like Jesus did? (I don't know, which is why I'm asking.)

I have been finding that love looks differently each time; that each person, each situation, each season needs a different expression of love than the last. Love focuses on the need at present, even if that need isn't immediately apparent. Thus, there is no one answer to the question of how to love in a manner that is worthy, strong, and powerful; in order for love to be worthy, strong, and powerful, it must be focused on the Loved rather than on the Lover's desire to love the 'right' way.

I want to live a life of worthy, strong, powerful love. But the only true Source of that kind of love that I can find is in Jesus. The only way I can hope to live that kind of love is by first and foremost receiving that love anew each day (each moment of each day), and through loving Jesus by loving those He loves. 

So, in this season of life, as I fondly remember pre-printed, perforated cardstock, glossy Valentine's cards, please know that I am thinking of all of you. I have a deep love you all of you that is sourced by the One who is Love. He loves you so much more than a Valentine could ever communicate, because He loves you more truly, worthily, strongly, and powerfully than we can ever imagine. And we are invited on a journey to explore that love, and share that love with each person in front of us. 

May we live and love in a manner that truly reflects that kind of love.

Justice is not my Savior

"When through grace in Christ our trust is,

Justice smiles and asks no more."

-- John Newton, Let Us Love and Sing and Wonder

All too often I find myself putting my faith and hope in Justice. I expect the scales to be blind and unbiased, and yet I expect Justice to be on my side. I expect Justice to agree with me and to help me determine my morality. I want Justice to direct me, guide me, and gently correct me when I err. I want Justice to be swift when I feel wronged, but slow to anger against me when I have a good excuse.

The problem with this is that Justice does none of those things. Justice does not gently correct, it demands an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. Justice does not determine my morality, unless my morality is to do only that for which I am rewarded and avoid doing that for which I will be punished. Justice--true Justice--shows no favoritism, holds no record of past merits to bail one out of present infractions; Justice can show no partiality, no grace, and will not acknowledge extenuating circumstances.

If I turn to Justice as my savior, Justice rightly condemns me before a perfect God. If I turn to Justice as my savior, I am bitterly disappointed because of the evil I see in this world. Justice isn't big enough to be my savior.

My Savior is Just, but He is also Grace, Patience, and Love. My Savior is firm in His correction, but He is also gentle. My Savior is Good, and He is eternal. He will bring Justice, but He has first extended His hand in friendship. My Savior loves and seeks the orphan, the widow, the downtrodden, the hurting; my Savior loves and seeks me. My Savior trusts me to seek others on His behalf. My Savior is my true and lasting hope. My Savior is forgiving. My Savior is my Guide, and He sticks with me even when I ignore His direction and cry out against the consequences of my stubborn choices. My Savior shows me how to extend grace, patience, and love to those that I would rather throw at the feet of Justice.

My Savior is not a doormat. He will not tolerate the injustice of this world for long. He will come and He will set things right in His kingdom. My Savior is strong, and He is fierce. He has all authority in Heaven and on Earth, and He will come in power to exercise it. 

And yet, my Savior waits. He waits so that He may cover yet more people with His righteousness before He comes wielding true Justice. He waits so that more may joyfully sing, 'when through grace in Christ our trust is, Justice smiles and asks no more.' 

And so I am torn between the two: I desire for Christ to come in glory, which is better by far. But He deems it more necessary for us that He waits. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you to know Him and make Him known.

Fullness

My life is messy. It is not perfect. It is not glamorous. In the virtual world of curated social media, my life is not even that photogenic. But, little by little, I'm learning how to live a full life.

My life is full. It is filled with working at a job that I love. It is filled with celebrating the little victories and little wins that happen every week. It is filled with hot beverages. It is filled with quiet moments on the couch. It is filled with laundry and cleaning and endless dishes. It is filled with joy. It is filled with music. It is filled with laughter and smiles and tears and silence. It is filled with empty journals. My life is filled with eye contact. It is filled with small talk and big talk. It is filled with editing. It is filled with grocery shopping and recipe hunting. It is filled with unhealthy comparison. It is filled with tender moments. My life is filled with words, both written and spoken. It is filled with doubt and questions. My life is filled with hugs. It is filled with staring blankly into space. It is filled with ambition that needs direction. It is filled with people. It is a messy, imperfect life. And it is full of love. 

Mine is a life in progress. I don't have all the answers, and I probably never will, but I'm learning to articulate the things I know and to appreciate the perspective that experience gives me. I'm learning to change the things I don't like, and make myself aware of the things I do like. I'm learning again to be disciplined - personally, professionally, and spiritually. I'm learning to stop comparing my life to others I see, and to make this life be the kind that I want to live. And I'm learning how to let people into the messiness and unfinished-ness.