While It Was Still Dark

She knew what hopelessness was like
But this time somehow it was worse
For she knew love and hope and peace
Then watched as senseless violence burned
Her hope and future into ash
The one she loved, teacher and friend
Tortured and murdered ruthlessly
The eyes that saw her see no more
The hands that touched and healed the sick
Now bloodied, mutilated, dead
Despair and fear now fill her heart
As friends disperse, flee for their lives
And yet she cannot stay away
Her heart still yearns for what is lost
She slips away, out of the city
While it was still dark.

With heavy heart she seeks the tomb
No hopes or plans in mind except
To be close to the one she loved
To care for him one final time
She weeps and walks her lonely road
Believing that this is the end
But soon she'll find the tomb unbarred
Her fear and sorrow overwhelmed
Engulfed by wonder beyond hope
Before her eyes he stands alive—
But she is still upon the road
In grief and darkness and despair
Continues faithful step by step
To where her heart at last will know
The miracle already happened
While it was still dark.

A Long Overdue Update and 300 Posts!

I realize that it has been a very long time since I posted a good old-fashioned family update, so I figured that it is about time! Also, I just wanted to note that this is my 300th post on this blog! That's a lot of writing! Sometimes it feels like it's just me here, hitting keys and staring at a screen, but the stats say that I've had over 300 page views this past month—and that's been without promoting my blog on social media! So thank you so much to each one of you who keeps coming back to read what I have to say. Thank you to those who have left comments or responded to me privately. Your encouragement means so much to me.

So—family update time! My little boys are quickly growing up to be not so little. They are both forces to be reckoned with and possess (seemingly) endless energy. They are starting to play together now—and starting to get in trouble together! There is never a dull moment around here!

Steven is endlessly resourceful and loves making up new "games" to play. He has no hesitations about going for what he wants, whether through negotiation or pure initiative—he has been known to climb up to get the juice out of the fridge, climb up to get cups out of the cupboard, and pour juice for himself and his brother, and then put everything away again, while I am only out of the room for a couple of minutes! He climbs absolutely everything, loves reading books, and is a big fan of "Veggie Rock", specifically the Hairbrush Song.

Kenneth is constantly trying to keep up to his big brother—and he does a very good job of it! He is very funny, and has become quite the chatterbox, with a word for almost everything (even if we can't always understand what the word is)! He loves animals, music, and dancing, and whenever there is some great dance music being played, he will run up to whoever is in the house saying, "Come! Come!" until everyone joins in the dance.

For Jesse and I, it seems like life is mostly work and taking care of our family, but one recent thing of note is that we recently finished our longest-running D&D campaign with some close friends of ours that spanned from South Korea to British Columbia to Vermont.

As a family, we are in a significant time of transition right now, as we figure out our living situation, Jesse's work, and make decisions about the future. It can be hard to balance the mundane of the day-to-day with the bigger questions of where we are supposed to be and what we are supposed to be doing, but I'm glad that the conversation has been started, and we'll see where we end up!

Lenten Lessons

Giving up something for Lent is a longstanding tradition in many branches of the Christian faith. Although it is a fairly new concept for me personally, the last few years have seen me attempting to fast from something (or do something new) for the season of Lent.

This year as Lent approached, I knew what I needed to give up, and I knew it would be hard.

You see, life has been pretty tough lately—for the past six months or so. I've had to watch several people that I am close to go through some significant struggles, and it left me feeling very isolated and lonely. The way that I mostly dealt with that was through writing. I blogged, and wrote stories, and poetry, and journaled and journaled and journaled. But whenever I just felt too tired or overwhelmed to write, I turned to social media. I know social media can be a good thing, but I knew I wasn't using it well. I would scroll and scroll and it would make me feel worse, not better. But when I felt so overwhelmed and like I just had to escape somehow, that was the only thing I felt like I could turn to—the only thing easy enough to turn to—and it was becoming more and more frequent.

So when I considered whether to give something up for Lent, I knew that I needed to give up social media. Specifically, I needed to give up scrolling social media, and any other way that I would go to it for escape or affirmation. So no posting just to get likes or comments or to get people to read my blog. I did, however, decide to continue accessing social media as a way of communication and as a tool. I have many friends that I primarily communicate with through facebook. I use tumblr for some of my writing. So I have still been accessing social media, but it has all been very pragmatic.

So, how has it been going? It has been hard. Absolutely. Because of circumstances outside of my control, life has been even more challenging over the past couple of months, leaving me struggling with hurt, anger, and the uncertainty of the future. And I have nowhere to hide. I can't numb it out with social media, because I am fasting from that. I can't write—the primary writing project I used to take refuge in has come to a practical standstill, and my "inspiration" for my own projects feels dry dry dry. There have been many times over the past weeks, in those times when I used to pull out my phone to write or to scroll, that I just sit there. I hug my knees and stare at nothing, because there is nothing that I have the energy or the heart to do.

Because I can no longer fill up the emptiness with noise, I have had to just sit with that emptiness. It hasn't been fun. But it has been good. It has given me space to just be, just exist. No profound thoughts to share, no online personas to compare myself with, no "likes" to count. Just me and the silence.

But it hasn't all been silence, of course—I do have a three-year-old and a one-year-old, after all!

And there are two things that I have intentionally been adding to my life during this season. First, I have been waking up every morning before the kids so that I can read a little from the Psalms. This has been wonderful. I haven't had a regular devotional time since I left home for Bible School ... ironic, isn't it? It has helped bring an awareness of God into each day, and helps me to not grumpily start the day with a significantly-too-awake toddler in my face. The only downside has been realizing how messed up my relationship with sleep is—how that "five more minutes" of sleep in the morning feels like the holy grail, and yet I refuse to have the discipline to go to bed at a reasonable time in the evening. That has been a challenge, but I am starting to get to bed earlier, which has been helping me a lot.

Beyond needing more discipline in the area of sleep, the big thing that I have been exploring during my time in the Psalms so far is the question of what I rely on. Again and again the Psalms speak about trusting in God—that he is our rock and our refuge and our deliverer. But I can't help wondering what that practically looks like, in my day to day life. I know what it looks like to rely on social media, what it looks like to rely on human affirmation, and my own achievements, and five more minutes of sleep. But what does it look like to truly rely on God? That is a question that I am still exploring.

The second thing that I have been doing is more directly related to my Lenten fast. Whenever I wish I could scroll social media, and I feel up for it, I instead try to connect with people in a more personal way. I send a message to someone who has been on my mind lately, I pray for them, I write a letter, give them a call, or try to invite them over. Through doing this, I am trying to combat my feelings of loneliness and isolation by building meaningful relationships. I am trying to shift my perspective from a focus on myself to a focus on how I can bless and encourage others. I am trying to nurture a thankfulness for the relationships that I do have.

As Lent has progressed and spring has arrived, it has been wonderful to realize that the sun is shining a bit more, literally and figuratively. I've started writing a bit again. I am finding myself more thankful for my children, and my husband, and the life that I have. The progress feels very slow sometimes, but I know it's there. It has been a hard season, but I am learning to be thankful for all of the ways that I have been growing through it.

Blackout Poetry

I tried my hand at blackout poetry for the first time last night, along with a couple friends. We each started with the same page of text, and it was interesting to see how different each of our finished poems were, both visually and in the words we chose to use.

I've included a photo of my completed poem. If you find it hard to read it in the photo, here is the text:

I remember
I
Might
Pass between
The sadness and the silence
Into the freedom beyond
The moonlight.

A Love Letter to 14-Year-Old Leane

14-year-old Leane,
I know you're really lonely.
You thought you had friends, but then they forgot about you.
They left you behind.
And that really hurts.
It will keep hurting, for a very long time.
I'm sorry.
And the friends that you still have, you don't trust them anymore.
You don't trust that they really like you.
You wonder when they will leave too.

14-year-old Leane,
Don't stop trying to make friends.
There are people out there that will like you and appreciate you.
You will find them someday.
I promise.

14-year-old Leane,
I know you want to be an actor,
But you're scared, and self-conscious,
And you don't think you can do it.
And no one else thinks you can do it.
No one is pushing you to try, to fail, and to keep trying until you succeed.
When you fail, I think they're secretly glad, because they want to save you from it.
I wish I could be there
And tell you to try
Because trying doesn't get any easier as you get older
And dreams don't go away just because you give up on them.

14-year-old Leane,
You just wrote a script, and you're really excited about it.
But nobody else seems to be excited.
It's nothing special to them.
Your friends even made fun of it.
But don't stop being excited!
You are going to direct that play, and it is going to open up a whole new world to you—
A passion that will carry you right through your high school years and beyond,
That will create a community and build friendships,
And it will all be because of you.
It will show you the kind of impact that you can have
By just being yourself and doing what you love.

14-year-old Leane,
Things will get better.
And then they will get worse again, and then better again.
Because life is like that.
Don't let the pain stop you from living.
You are smart.
You are kind, and considerate, and gentle.
You are significant.

14-year-old Leane,
I remember you well.
You are still a part of me.
Deep inside, I am you—
A shy, insecure, lonely dreamer.

14-year-old Leane,
Keep dreaming.
I love you.

El Roi: The God Who Sees Me

For Lent this year, our church put together a devotional focused on different names of Jesus. The members of our church were invited to submit a devotional, poem, art piece, or other original work to be a part of it. I wrote a devotional, and I thought I would share it here as well.
____

El Roi: The God Who Sees Me

Genesis 16 tells the story of how Hagar became pregnant with Ishmael, was mistreated by Sarai, and ran away into the wilderness. The angel of the Lord met her there and gave her a promise about her child. At the end of that encounter Hagar gave God the name, "The God who sees me". We might not expect God to see a rejected, runaway slave girl, but he did.

When we look at the life of Jesus, we see a beautiful picture of what it looks like when "the God who sees" walks on the earth. He sees the Samaritan woman (John 4), he sees the bleeding woman (Luke 8), he sees Zacchaeus (Luke 19), and the list could go on and on. Jesus saw and reached out to the outcasts, the unclean, the sinners, and all those who were rejected by society.

Today, our God is still the God who sees. He is the God who sees the marginalized, the oppressed, the forgotten. He is the God who sees everyone. He is the God who sees us. We all go through times and seasons when we feel very alone. Maybe it is because of a loss or traumatic event. Maybe it is because of mental or physical illness. Maybe it is from being a parent of young children or the caretaker for someone with special needs. Maybe it is something else. We may feel invisible, overlooked, ignored, forgotten. But God sees us. He reaches out to us in our wilderness, even as he reached out to Hagar so long ago.

As Jesus-followers, we are also called to be people who see. Seeing is hard. It means slowing down, looking away from the things that engross our attention and fill our busy lives, and instead starting to notice those who go unnoticed. Being like Jesus means seeing the homeless, the refugees, the victims of racism, abuse, and colonialism, the troubled youth on the street corner and the elderly person in palliative care, and all those in between who are rejected and forgotten by the world.

But seeing is not just about looking. True seeing leads to meaningful action. God provided for Hagar. Jesus stopped, and talked, and touched. If we are going to be like our Father Who Sees, then we need to be ready to do something about what we see.

Personal Reflection:
When was a time that you knew beyond a doubt that God sees you? What makes you feel seen?

A Challenge:
Today, try to "see". Slow down and notice the people you wouldn't usually notice. Then do something about what you see. Give a smile, a hug, a helping hand.

Father, thank you that you are the God who sees us. Thank you for being with us, even in the dark and challenging times when we feel alone and forgotten. Help us to be people who see and who show your love to a broken and hurting world. Amen.

Star

There is only one star tonight.
Clouds cover the sky
Heavy and dark
Affording only the smallest glimpses
Into the starlit sky beyond
And then
The pollution of a hundred thousand
Man-made lights
Floods the darkness with an unnatural glow
A haze of obscurity
Bringing neither clarity nor comfort
Drowning out
Any companion that may be found.
Wait
There is a second star
Peering through the haze
And there, another
Or perhaps the clouds
Shifted
Just a little.
There are three stars tonight.

Mommy Moments: Compliments

3-year-old: Mommy, you're coot.

Me: Do you mean cute?

3-year-old: No, coot.

Me: What does coot mean?

3-year-old: Coot means coot.

Me: ...

3-year-old: You're coot like the leafs.

Me: ... Thanks?