Seized By Hope

Bearing One Anothers Burdens

I was unloading groceries in the kitchen yesterday when the phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID and saw our friends name, I knew the call was coming from somewhere on the road between here and Virginia.  "Hello, what have you heard?" was my question as I picked up the receiver.  My friend began to tell me the report from the neuro-surgeon, what they know and what they don't know. 

I listened and in my mind I pictured this couple, our age, driving across country to be with their oldest daughter, her husband and their baby.  I thought about sitting with them less than a week ago laughing and sharing stories over food and drinks.  I thought about the similarities in the structure of our families, older kids and younger one's.  I thought about the places of connection we share with them.  I thought about a meeting I had with their daughter nearly 7 years ago and how eyes her sparkled and about her hopes for the future.

Today I will be baking pies, making jalapeno corn, green bean casserole, and stuffing.  I will be laughing with my kids and preparing for Thanksgiving tomorrow.

Today my friends will complete their three day drive to be with their daughter.  They will be anxiously waiting for their cell phones to ring with the report from the detailed CT scan on how involved the tumor is with the blood vessels in her brain.  They will be talking to their other kids still at home with family members.

Today I will make my way through the hours of the day aware of what I am thankful for and aware of what feels heavy.  The temptation is to cheapen what it is to "bear one another's burdens" by simply focusing on how thankful I am that what is a tragedy in someone else's life isn't the tragedy in mine. 

I am thinking about Ephesians 4

" ¹As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. ²Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. ³Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. ⁴There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called— ⁵one Lord, one faith, one baptism; ⁶one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all."

We are one body, we share one hope. 

I wish this were the only tragedy, the only heavy burden I was aware of today...but it is not.  We have other friends who lost their son last week and are mourning his death, our neighbor's cancer is leaving him barely able to walk across the room, we have friends on the brink of divorce, others who believe this is the last Thanksgiving for their mother to be alive.  The stories go on an on.

I want to enter into the celebration of Thanksgiving with my whole heart, and experience the beauty of God's presence in the midst of all my feelings....my gratitude and my concern and everything that lays in between.  I want to bear my friends burden with them. 

Dear God Jesus

Friday was "Feast Day" for the little girls.  Both girls had Thanksgiving Feasts at school.  E's classroom was set up with paper plates, chicken nuggets, veggies, chips and juice boxes.  Her teacher was wearing an Indian costume.  The room was filled with native music.  The kids were all having a great time. 

E seemed to understand the concept of thankfulness more and more as they talked about it at school all month.

Last night we sat down at the table for dinner and she announced her desire to pray for the food.  Her prayer went like this...

"Dear God Jesus thank you for the food.  Thank you for Mommy, for Daddy, for K, for A, for S, for L. Thank you."

Dear God Jesus.

Perfect.

Almost home...

K posted a status on her Face-book that said, "K is almost home".  Her plane will arrive in 9 hours.  When I walked into L and E's room this morning to wake them up the first words out of their mouths were, "Today is the day K comes home!"  The activities of the day are now just part of a countdown until we leave to pick her up at the airport.

She is ready to come home.

At the Strong Women Soft Hearts retreat Paula spoke about each of us holding a longing for "home".  It is deeper than the experience we have when we visit a house that represents "home", for that is just a taste of what we are really made to enjoy.

I was thinking this week that I don't refer to my parents house as "home" anymore.  Actually, I don't even think of Phoenix as "home".  I thought about when that changed, when I stopped referring to trips to Phoenix as going home.  I believe it was about 12 years ago.  After we had lived in San Antonio for a year and experienced something very special at the church we were attending.  People had embraced us in ways we hand't really known before, and our family had become a part of something that tasted sweet.  That church and our life in San Antonio felt like home.  Trips to visit my mom and dad became trips to Phoenix, not trips "home".

When we left San Antonio two years later the ache was deeper than I had known in previous moves, and the people we'd come to love continued to pursue and care for us across the miles that separated us from them.  Our church home wanted us to stay connected, in fact they wanted us to come back, to come home again.  When we were invited to return and take a place of the staff at the church we felt an excitement and gratitude that filled up nearly every nook and cranny of our hearts.  That first sunday, a week after Thanksgiving in 2000 as I sat in the pews of the familiar sanctuary I felt a rest in my soul and a feeling that I was again "home".

"Home is where your heart is"

"Home is where your story begins"

Cliche words often found on wooden plaques at artsy little shops.  And, yet cliche or not filled with truth.

Home is not necessarily the house you grew up in, it may not be the town where you lived the longest, it isn't always where your extended family lives, and sadly it may not even be with the house you are living right now.

Home is a place where the emptiness that comes from living in a fallen world, separated from the God who loves us, is filled and the ache is relieved more than when you are in any other place.  Home is about warmth that touches your soul and washes over your heart and causes you to take a breath and exhale deeply.  Home is where you can curl up and be quiet and still be seen.  Home is where your laughter is known and enjoyed.  Home is where someone always has arms welcoming you, whatever your condition...clean, messy, angry, sad, joyful, content, angry, needy.  Home is where your arrival is anticipated and people are waiting to welcome you.

Home is something I have and something I long for all at the same time. 

Tea

A friend gave me a cup and a book and a box of tea.

A friend sent me a package with different types of tea.

A friend gave me a cd of songs she'd selected and titled it "Tracy's Tea"

Usually I drink coffee.  I drink it every morning, several cups.  I drink it at Starbuck's while I meet with people.  I like coffee.

I've discovered though, that when my heart is sitting in tender places, when I need to extra kind to myself, I drink tea.  People who know me and love me and been used by Jesus to invite me to drink tea.  I am thankful for them, so very thankful.

I've been drinking tea the past few days.  It leaves me a bit more quiet and my blog has reflected that.

If this couch could speak.

We lived the first 14 years of our married life on hand-me down furniture, save the purchase of a crib for K when she was born.  When we moved to San Antonio 9 years ago to begin ministry to young adults we made our first major furniture purchase.  Couches.  Two full size, one green and one floral. 

I remember the day they arrived and one of our young adults came over to help move them into the family room.  From that day forward these couches provided seating for literally hundreds of young adults, and family members and friends of our children.

Two weeks ago the floral sleeper sofa broke beyond repair.  We've been propping it up with cinder blocks for months now, but this last collapse made the need to replace it unavoidable.

If that floral sleeper sofa could speak it would have tales to tell.

It would recount hours of conversation.  Secrets that it has held for years and years.  Tears shed upon its pillows and laughter had on it's cushions.  It would tell of the time Darin sat on it and held L, just a tiny baby, finding his heart for his story of being adopted.  It would remember Forums with Lauren and Chelli and Debbie.  It would tell of a particular night when a precious woman wept over a child lost to abortion as she sat it's welcoming cushions.  It would recall hours of play with A and her sweet puppies romping all about on it.  It would speak of conversations with Josh that were life changing.  It would tell of Chuck and hours he spent sitting on it.  It would point to the spot that belongs to Dave on Christmas morning.  It would sing lyrics from all the rock band tunes played from upon it.  It would whisper the secrets Mark and I have shared while sitting slouched down on it's softness.  It would remember holding me as I wept the night Marnie died and the news reached my ears as I sat upon it.  It would describe its view of the christmas tree each year.  It would tell of opening itself up and the bed being pulled out to provide a place for Lory to sleep, for the five Johnson children to lay next to each other for the first time when E came home from the hospital.  It would definitely talk about Danny, Tim and Tom.  It would talk about salsa and chips with Mercy.  It would tell of Chris P and his laughter and joy.  It would remember the couples group with the Beaugh's, The Kurz's, The Paveglio's and The Cabell's.  It would remember the night Russ took a brave step in his story.  It would remember conversation after conversation after conversation from Guy's Night and Community Group.

If this couch could speak...........

Strong Women Soft Hearts Retreat

As I sat with my coffee this morning looking over the pictures from the retreat last weekend I found my heart filled with gratitude. 

Paula Rinehart was warm, inviting, inspiring, welcoming and wise.  Perhaps one of my favorite aspects of the weekend was how often she had us turn to one another and discuss what we'd written down in response to a question she'd asked us to ponder.  The sound of the womens voices conversing with each other was a reminder to me of how similar we all are, regardless of our life circumstances.

Her opening "prompt" for us to write about on Friday night was, "In this season of my life I feel a bit anxious about....."  The answers proved to set a course for where many of us would meet God during the rest of the weekend.

The details of the retreat all went seamlessly, and I could feel God's orchestrating presence affirming the beauty of the event and what He was accomplishing for the women attending.

It was all we had hoped and prayed for as a leadership team.  It was what I had hoped for as I prayed and pursued Paula coming last summer.

Here are some photo's from the weekend.

Enjoy!

Enjoy....

My daughter linked this "brilliant" (to quote her) video on her blog.  I've listened to it several times now this morning and it just made me smile.

So, enjoy.

Life Rises out of Death

Over the weekend Paula Rinehart had many wonderful and stirring things to say to the women gathered to listen to her.  I spent some time this morning going over my notes, wondering what I would choose to post about today.

"Life rises out of death.  As women we tend to die in all the WRONG ways.  We are to die to our own agenda, to what we believe would bring us life."

Powerful words to ponder.

She asked us to consider what deaths in our lives are that are the back to door to life.  That sent my thoughts in two directions, where I have experienced the death of something and where did/do I find "life".

Finding places that have felt like death are not hard for me. Remembering how I sought to find life following those times of death was revealing.

We can all give the churchy answer that "life is found with God, but what we know and what we believe often are very different.  We LIVE our beliefs. 

If life is found in success, then death would propel me to work harder and become successful.

If life is found in leadership, then death would propel me to find something or someone to lead.

If life is found in my family, then death would send me looking to my family to be everything to me.

If life is found in my spouse, then I will spend myself trying to create closeness with them.

If life is found in approval of others, then I will live forever working to hear words of approval.

If life is found in my friends, then I will always have to fell on the inner circle of those I count close.

If life is found in my appearance, then I will work hard to keep myself looking perfect.

If life is found in believing I am a good christian, then I will work hard be whatever my church wants.

If life is found in my ministry, then death will propel me to create or find a new ministry.

As I sat and thought about where I find life I could remember places where all of the above have been places I have run in the past to find life.

None of those things bring life, they only bring the illusion and life and will always lead us once again to feeling the sting of death.  After death has come again and again from trying to find life in these places I believe we begin to lose hope and grow bitter.

Life is found Jesus.  Death is the back door to life with Him. 

Paula told a story about young woman who'd grown up being sexually abused by her grandfather.  After years of abuse she finally left for college determined to leave that horror behind her and start a new life.  At college a friend invited her to a revival.  As she listened to the speaker she could hardly wait to give her life to Jesus.  When the invitation to to do so came she wholeheartedly prayed for Jesus to come into her life.  On the ride home she fell asleep in the car and began to dream.  She dreamed she was once again in her bedroom and her grandfather had come.  She could feel herself giving in to him again when suddenly a door in the corner of the room opened and Jesus was standing on the other side of it.  He called out to her, "Come home, Come home, Come home."  She jumped out of her bed and ran to His arms, safe at last.

Death is the back door to life with Him. 

We were all invited to come home this weekend.

A year ago.....

My friend Ellen sent me an email this morning reminding me of a sweet conversation she and I had about a year ago over cups of hot coffee at the coffee shop up the street from my house.  I was asking her to be on my advisory board for Seized by Hope Ministries, which was at that point a dream carefully unfolding.

I logged into my typepad account and clicked through to see what I was writing about in November of 2008.

I wrote about our leaving our church home for the previous 8 years.  That is a place that has experienced healing, and it is a place that is still tender and painful on days.

I wrote about my kids and the funny things they say and do.  They are still making me laugh.

I wrote about comfort, and my thoughts that perhaps it produce a bible study.  I am currently doing a study on comfort with two wonderful college aged girls and loving their thoughts and what our conversations are including.

I wrote about celebrating femininity and wondered about a gathering for women to celebrate their femininity.  This Fall brought the "pilot" gathering of women for "Red Tent Dinners", once a month gatherings for women to celebrate, share and talk about their lives in meaningful ways.  More of these dinners will be happening locally this Spring, and the possibility for them to happen in other cities is growing as people are expressing interest in hosting them.

I wrote about Seized by Hope Ministries and the dream of what it might happen.  This weekend is the 2nd Seized by Hope Retreat for women.  The ministry is up and running and today their are more dreams for what lies ahead...including the website. 

I wrote about seasons changing.  Change still feels very real and present.

I was surprised as I looked at what was in my heart a year ago, and all the pondering and dreaming that has come into being.

Thank you Ellen for reminding me of where I was a year ago.

It's November and the sweet smell of gratitude is in the air, I will have my windows open today so I can drink up every nuance of it's scent.

Seized by Hope

To be Seized by Hope is to know desperation.

To be Seized by Hope is to name your desperation.

To be Seized by Hope is to know pain and not numb it.

To be Seized by Hope is to name where you are living small and feel the desire for more.

To be Seized by Hope is to know betrayal.

To be Seized by Hope is to feel the betrayal and cry out to God for His life giving presence in the pain.

To be Seized by Hope is to know powerlessness.

To be Seized by Hope is to surrender to the powerlessness and experience glorious rest in the surrender.

To be Seized by Hope is to have felt abandoned.

To be Seized by Hope is to name the impact of the abandonment and open your heart to feel cared for again.

To be Seized by Hope is to live in the moments of each day relinquishing control second by second.

To be Seized by Hope is to live by faith that when you have blown it all so badly that you want to give up and crawl in a hole instead you reach out for a friend.

To be Seized by Hope to feel gratitude when gracious gifts you weren't expecting find their way to you.

To be Seized by Hope is to sit across the table from someone being crushed by their own feelings of desperation and offer them your face and your heart, and lend them some hope.

To be Seized by Hope is to laugh, loudly, often and with others or by yourself, but to laugh.

To be Seized by Hope is to awake unsure of what the day will hold and smile in anticipation.

To be Seized by Hope is to disrupt the status quo.

To be Seized by Hope is to live with risk.

To be Seized by Hope is to live with desire, not small crumbs of it but lavish, extravagant, over the top, expensive, spilling out, unmanaged desire.

To be Seized by Hope is to believe that less is NOT more, more is more.

To be Seized by Hope is to name the glory of what God has laid in your heart and write about on your blog.

I am Seized by Hope.