it is my growing conviction that my life belongs to others just as much as it belongs to myself and that what is experienced as most unique often proves to be most solidly embedded in the common condition of being human . . . does not all creativity ask for a certain encounter with our loneliness, and does not the fear of this encounter severely limit our possible self-expression?
henri nouwen
i am listening to the radio, and the announcers are asking people to call in with their shopping stories from today (aka. “black friday). a man just now got on the line and said:
“i was at toys’r’us this morning. and i’m tellin’ you, i played as linebacker in college against 300 lb guys . . . but when my wife left me alone in the aisle this morning . . . i was scared!”
makes me laugh . . . 😀
last night at church, we had an “open-mic” service. (no, this was not an impromptu conservative christian karaoke night.) mics were placed on either side of the auditorium, and while we were singing, people could walk up to the mics to give their testimonies or something they were thankful for. we had sung some great songs and had heard some great ways of how God had answered prayer, saved souls, and shown Himself faithful.
we were about to sing some more, when this little blonde-headed girl–no older than five– started walking down the aisle toward the mic on the right side of the sanctuary. a man sitting on the first pew found a chair, pulled it up, and placed the girl on it.
she took a nervous deep breath, leaned too close to the microphone, and began:
“i am weally thankful that i was saved at a weally early age . . .”
(at this point, i couldn’t help but smirk. if she is five, and she got saved at a really early age, are we are talking embryonic conversion? but all kidding aside . . .)
“. . . and i am thankful for the Bible, and for what Jesus did for me, and for all the Bible stories, and for my mom pwaying with me before bed . . .”
now, i’m not the sentamental, sappy sort, but i can honestly say (admittedly in the midst of the lingering smirk) that i had a teary-eyed moment. 
Jesus said, suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.
i am so glad that this little girl was sensitive enough to recognize the blessings that God has already given her–salvation, the Word of God, a Christian family. i am so glad that this little girl was bold enough to shyly move from her seat and publicly thank God for how He has already worked in her comparatively short life (while most of the adults continued to imprint themselves in the pews). i am so glad that this little girl has parents that encourage her to testify about her Lord (one day i want to be a parent like that). i am so glad for a church that “suffers” the little children to come, proving that no testimony it too “insignificant” and no person is too young to stand and do the will of God and in every thing give thanks.
’tis the season for giving thanks . . . and i am so glad for a Heavenly Father that suffers this little child to come. may i unimprint myself from my comfort zone, stand at my microphone (even if it is too close), and unashamedly thank my God for everything He has done for me.
i’m not denying that women are foolish; God almighty made ’em to match the men.
***
the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and witha breath of kindness blow the rest away.
***
there is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet know what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.
as my last class ended at 5 today . . . my thanksgiving break began.
i left my class, headed to my office, and packed my computer, books, and lastly– my to-do list.
it was then that i realized that my “breaks” have drastically changed since, oh– elementary school. thanksgiving break from the past included me sleeping in, not worrying about a blessed thing, enjoying my time away from the cafeteria, the classroom, and brian–the boy that sat next to me in the third grade that didn’t understand the concept of tissues, covering his mouth, or keeping the rubberbands from his braces actually attached to his teeth. the free time over the weekend was spent with all 412 of my cousins, the girls petitioning once again to be allowed to play football with the boys.
we never won.
fridays, we were drug out by our hair at ungodly hours in the morning to stand in lines at stores for those thanksgiving sales. my aunts and my mom would split up to various locations, each having a copy of “the list.” women screaming, hair pulling, toasters flying in all directions . . . these are the women that make shopping a sport. pro-wrestling is child’s play.
(and my mom wonders why i twitch when a see a sign for a sale . . .) 😉
however, the memories have been sweetened by time. freedom, sleep, frenzied shopping . . . those were the days . . .
this thanksgiving? i will be typing my fingers to the bone trying to finish a script for a grad writing class as well as completing a grad project in a stage makeup class called a “makeup morgue.” (don’t worry, it isn’t what it sounds like. if it was, i would have dropped the class the second day of the semester. “i see dead people” isn’t a sentence i want say anytime soon . . . ) i also feel morally bound to email my students grade updates. <<sigh>>
so here i sit, simultaneously typing and arranging my time for my “break.” between writing, researching, organizing, emailing, and recording, i’m trying to find a free slot for the “break” part of my “break.”
oh, and spending time with family would be a good thing too, i guess . . . 😉
after running across the quotation for the day, i decided to post this thought. i have had this thought before, but it is one of those ideas that seem kind of nebulous . . . it is also one that is intriguing to me, although there really isn’t a way to determine whether or not it is actually accurate or true . . .
love is connected to venerability. it always has been. the more you love, the more vulnerable you are. (note: this definition of vulnerability is in no way linked with weakness.) and the more vulnerable you are, the more pain you volunteer yourself to. (this is why very few people care for the characteristic of being vulnerable. let’s be realistic . . . no one likes pain. if you said you did, i’d question your sanity.)
so, those who love are those who experience the most hurt. they open themselves up to the most amount of potential pain.
“God is love . . . ”
God willingly opens Himself to be vulnerable. arms wide open– the most precarious of all positions. it is the openness to both intimacy and injury.
most of us base our vulnerableness on the likelihood of this intimacy/injury dichotomy. we decide to open wide . . . if we are assured that those we are opening ourselves to will take us up on our offer . . . that they will accept the open arms. however, if we feel that injury (whether through rejection or an outright attack on our openness [punch in the stomach, stab in the heart]) is indeterminable (at best) or likely (at worst), we keep our arms crossed in front of our chest. the risk is too great. the possibility of pain is too high.
God willingly opens Himself to be vulnerable to us. to US. the sheep that go astray, that turns to his own way– i.e. rejection. the sheep that are responsible for His stripes, His thorny crown, His heavy cross– i.e. outright attack. it is inevitable that Christ will incur indescribable harm in this openness.
so is it possible, that God, as a being of insurmountable Love, is simultaneously a being of insurmountable Grief? and being injured by us again and again and again–
He faithfully outstretches His arms to us.
again and again and again.
in a love that boggles my mind, He does it again . . .
charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth . . . and now abideth faith, hope and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is Charity.
to love at all is to be vulnerable. love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. if you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. but in that casket–safe, dark, motionless, airless– it will change. it will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
c.s. lewis
preserve me, o God, for in you i take refuge.
i say to the LORD, “you are my Lord; I have no good apart from you.”
as for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight.
the sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply; their drink offerings of blood i will not pour out or take their names on my lips.
the LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.
the lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, i have a beautiful inheritance.
i bless the LORD who give me counself; in the night also my heart instructs me.
i have set the LORD always before me; because He is at my right hand, i shall not be shaken.
therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure.
for you will not abandon my soul to sheol, or let your holy one see corruption.
you make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.
(just an interesting thought . . . )
“sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.”
anon
seeminglyrandom 