Know Me

I believe that there is an intrinsic desire within each of us to be known. We want to be more than seen, more than noticed, more than acknowledged. We want more than a "How's your day?" Our inner man scratchs to get out, to be seen,to be heard, to be known.

I was talking to Katie late last night. We sat in her car, in my driveway. We talked about our hearts. How we guard them... and yet how deeply we desire for them to be revealed.  In a moment of revelation, I exclaimed in one bursting breath,"Katie, I just want to BE KNOWN!"

And thats just it. Isn't it?

The cry of our heart, "Someone, please know me!"

And before the words finished passing through my lips, my thoughts were flooded with the deepest sense of peace I have ever known. A voice cracked as loud as thunder, and shook my being.

"Oh but my child, I Do know you!

I knew you before you created you in your mothers womb.

I knew you before you breathed your first.

I know your thoughts and the path of your life.

I know your heart and your joys and your aching grievances.

My child, You are known.

 I KNOW you."

And I closed my eyes, and I felt the King of the Universe peering into me. Past my skin and my thick walls. He looked into my inner man, and he saw me. I have such a hope, being able to rejoice in THE God that knows me.

Ha! And you want to know the real kicker? He knows me ... and he still likes me! I mean, he sees this messy, selfish, and prideful person, and he chooses to like me still. He chooses to love me. And to delight OVER me. And to rejoice in who I am.

And how can I not respond to this God with any other response than seeking to know him as well?

AND THIS IS ETERNAL LIFE: THAT THEY MIGHT KNOW YOU..." -John 17:3

Star Leaf

Hello Urban woman in your asparagus green skirt. 

I see you 

from my study window I watch

you are reaching, grasping 

for falling leaves.

You are unsuccessful,

like reaching for the stars that seem so close, 

or trying to get one snow flake to land on your nose.

I watched you do a little dance,

when you thought no one was watching.

And you walked away, 

defeated

 at not catching that "star".

But I watched,

as a yellow leaf landed on your head,

nestled in your hair,

and you didn't even know.

That star leaf struck you.

Autumn

The first day of fall!

 Ahhh if you only knew of the bubbling bursts of joy in my soul today! After keeping myself awake until 1:45am, watching Fiddler on the Roof, and sewing curtains for the kitchen, I woke at 7:27 bounding with energy to fill the house with the smell of pumpkin! I put on my first hat of the season, and tried my hand at this recipe suggested by my friend Noelle. 

I sat sipping coffee, watching Casablanca, making more curtains. I am wearing my orange sweater, my fall scarff and my slippers. Goal of the weekend is to remember where I stored the fall decorations for our mantle. 

Summer has treated me well. I swam. I wore shorts. I used my Birks well. I got my tan on. I went camping. I went on vacation. I stayed up late. I woke up early. I ate dinner on the porch. I had campfires in the back yard. I went for long walks. I slept with the window open. 

But today, today is the first day of fall. I can complain all I want now if the warm weather returns. I am ready to bundle up. My flip flops are put away. I am starting to think about Christmas presents. I am obsessed with everything pumpkin, and the hopeful changing of the leaves. I am ready for the rain to return, the grass to become green again, and the settled dust of summer to wash away. 

I love each of the seasons, and I love that I live in a city which allows me to see each season. But there is something about Fall that makes me love it most. Maybe it is just the word AUTUMN, that is so much more glorious sounding than the other seasons names. Maybe it is way my green crock-pot looks on the counter, never needing to be put away. Or maybe it is just me, loving fall and the rain that it brings, the way that I have loved it ever since I can remember. 

Autumn, welcome to Oregon. YOU ARE MOST WELCOME TO BE HERE!

Dear Teenage Me...

Heather Anne, 

Your 16, and you have the whole world in front of you. 

Your confidant that you can take over the world for Jesus, so am I! I have never met anyone with more passion, more zeal, or more zest for life than you. You run through each thing you do like an exploding fire cracker, dropping sparks of life, starting little fires. Never stop this Heather, your passion is not just a bi-product of the Assembly of God denomination you are a part of. Your passion is ingrained in the sands of your DNA that God put together to be you. 

Your youthfulness and drive are going to be a key chord to you in the next few years.

The future is hard to imagine right now, but I know that you try very hard to imagine it. If I could give you one piece of advice from your not much older self : STOP LIVING FOR WHAT IS TO COME. When it needs to come, it will, but where you are in your life, right now, is so very good. I glean everyday from the stalks of wisdom and study that come from the time you are in right now.

Read the Word, even if your family "catches" you. 

Worship with the last of your breaths. 

Fast and  pray, if you are compelled to fast and pray. 

Journal.

Sing.

 Live in the Spirit. 

The faith that you have right now is yours, and yours alone. It is real and grounded and is becoming the foundation for the rest of your life. 

Follow your convictions, my dear younger self. If the spirit is guiding you to do something, or not do something, listen and respond! I see now how many of your convictions and compulsions were accurate. Don't let any person, or any book tell you opposite of what the spirit is telling you. Follow what you know to be true. Because you DO KNOW. 

You are not too young to know what the spirit is telling you. 

Did you know that you are beautiful? I don't think you do. You are so concerned about your weight, your nails, your comparison to everyone else. Soon you will discover that you are not out of shape, but that you have asthma, I wish you knew that right now! I wish you knew that you could wear girl clothes, that being frumpy is not something you have to do. I wish you knew that you don't have to look like any of your friends. I wish you knew that when you dress up for formal events, that you are not out of place,

 but that you leak femininity. 

You say you never get embarrassed, but the truth is that you are terrified of people discovering the parts of your heart and life you are embarrassed about. Oh Heather, please stop your fearing, and your hiding of your emotions. You are not protecting yourself like the enemy is so loudly trying to convince you of, you are locking away beautiful parts of your soul that are going to be very difficult to dig out in the coming years, I know, I have been digging at them for some time now. You are surrounded by people who want to know you, what you think, how you are struggling. It is OK to struggle. 

Real Christians struggle.

You are a teenage girl, you have emotions and hormones and mood swings; and its OK! You don't have to be anyone else other than who you are. You don't need to be Harmony, or Hallie, or Jessica, or Kerrie. You need to be Heather Anne, 

the Heather Anne that God created you to be. 

I know you are hurting right now, that you have much anger bottled up, but the Lord wants to touch that and to heal. You miss Harmony and Matthew, and you are mad that they are married and not at home any more, but you must know that they are your biggest fans and will become the most dear confidants to you  in the upcoming years. Your angry about church, and the community that seems to be falling apart in front of your eyes, but the Lord has a journey prepared for you that Iris Valley would never have been able to take you on. 

I wish I could tell you : 

Heather is going to remain your best friend, she is one of the most consistent parts of your life.

You will follow your dream and travel over seas. 

You will go to college, and take a math class, even though you vow in opposition. 

You will move to Portland, and love every minute of it. 

You will continue to seek the Lord. 

You will overcome your fear of boys, and start dating a man who loves you more than you comprehend. You will meet new friends, who will take you to a deeper place than even you can imagine. 

Your mama will become a secret garden of joy to you, there will be restoration. 

Your daddy will remain your shield and best cheerer of life. 

Oh Heather, one thing I know is how badly you want a "testimony" for life, you desire something bad to happen so that you have something to share. Well, a terrible travesty will not take place, but you do hold a testimony to the way that you have served the Lord unswerving. The next few years will be the best of your life, but I don't need to tell you to enjoy every moment, because I know that you will.  Go ahead, live that teenage life of ours, live it with joy and zest. Maybe in 8 years, when you are 23, I will have another letter ready for you. 

Love, your not much older self, 

                                         Heather

P.S. Some day, you will very much like the color pink.





I got this idea from the blog challenge from chattatthesky. Please also read my sisters, Harmony and Hallie, blog posts on this topic. I also challenge you to write your own!

Behold

Matthew 28:19-20. The Great Commission.

This is the part of the Gospel story where Jesus charges his followers to: GO into the world, to MAKE disciples, to BAPTIZE, and to TEACH.

And behold, he is with us until the end of the age.

Behold. Means to perceive through sight or apprehension.

Apprehension. : Means anticipation of adversity or misfortune.


So... Jesus is saying, [Proceed] into all the world, [Bringing into existence] people who follow Christ, [help them to become spiritually pure] and [Impart knowledge] to them. [Through your sight] and [though you have anticipation of misfortune], YHWH will be with you, until the end of the age.

I like this. I like that word, behold. I like the break down of it. I like that although we have anticipation of misfortune, he will be with us always. I like that this promise is not dependent upon anything we do, but grounded on who he is. He is the LORD, YHWH,and he is declaring is supremacy by telling us he will be there always.

He is solid. And constant. And there through the end of the age.

Portion

By 8:49 this morning, I felt the day was destined to fail. I rushed into work, dodging the Glisan St. traffic. My french press was shattered by an inclusion kids basketball. And my wonderful scheme of jeans and watching a movie, instead of taking the kids to the swimming pool, backfired when the sunshine decided not only to shine, but to sparkle and dance like diamonds. We were short staffed, and I was filling in more roles than even a control freak like myself wished to fill. 

It was as I sat at that coffee and crayon stained table that I decided something. I decided that this fail destined day was quickly going to turn into literal Hell unless I chose an alternative. I have been writing the same verse on my hand the past few mornings, and meditating on it until the mid-morning plaster washed it away. This morning, my rush to work dis-allowed me time to write it ... but the memorization goal of the week kicked in and I visualized it. "The Lord is my portion' says my soul. 'Therefore I will hope in Him." Lamentations 3:24. And that was it. My alternative to Hell was allowing the Lord to be my portion. And I decided that I really wanted the Lord to be my portion, and that he was one heck of an alternative. Actually, He was not an alternative at all, but my go to, my foundation, my sparkle like diamonds. 

And I allowed the Lord to be my portion. And I placed my hope in him. And the kids, even the bad attitude kids, had great attitudes, despite promises to the opposite. And my helpless helpers, were helpful. And games that normally don't work, worked. And I didn't miss my french press. 

I taught some campers to play Yatzee. I helped them with math. (HA! I know, I helped with MATH?!) We sat still through a movie. We followed the rules. We were kind to one another. We even pulled off a surprise party for one of the other counselors. 

The day that was destined to fail, became a giant of success. It was my most fun, and most favorite day of camp yet. So, I raise this now french-press-free-glass to say "Here's to the last to days of Camp, come and get it me, for the Lord is MY Portion."

A lakeside poem

The breeze brushes the reeds
     gently untangling
The dragonflies pat the water
     rapidly tapping
The sun stares at the world
     constantly boasting
And I sit in it all
     greatly reflecting

Goodbye

It was the last day of school after my 4th grade year. We stood on the sidewalk in the yellow zone reserved to keep a space between us and the school buses. Today though, the teachers seemed not to notice, or pretended not to care that we were breaking the rules. I'll never know for sure, but I know they said nothing.

I was saying goodbye to Alan. I remember giving him a hug, and having an odd rush of emotions. He just told me that he was moving away, to live with his dad. I didn't know how to say goodbye, I had never had a friend move away before. I felt odd when I pulled away, sitting in the backseat of my moms green Ford Windstar. I was going to miss that skinny, black jeans wearing, obsessed with trains, boy. And I left, and I never saw him again.

Fourteen years later... I drove to Canada with on of my dear friends. We were saying goodbye to a friend, a possible, but hopefully not, forever goodbye. The two of them were much closer that I, and watching their final wave, as our cars headed in different directions, it cut into my heart. I was suddenly a girl of nine all over again, re-discovering goodbyes. Goodbyes are hard, forever's are brutal.

I don't think we were created to say goodbye. In the garden, god walked with Adam and Eve, he never wanted them to say goodbye to those walks, or goodbye to the garden... but man sinned, and and goodbyes came to be.

Canada was hard, thinking about the painful reality of life, but it was harder for my friend, who I know now is experiencing a grieving loss such as I have never known. My forth grade train boy friend doesn't compare to this, but it is the closest I have to understanding outside of simply imagining.

I am reminded of a favorite verse in Psalms: "Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning..."

Soundtrack

My life is a movie, or a musical if only that. I walk along picking and changing songs in my ears as a guitarist picks strings with his eyes shut. Creating the soundtrack that will one day boost my memory, something like the concept of Pavlov and his dogs. I try to make the music match my mood, but I fond more often that not that my mood changes to the music. I say I listen only to the beat, but as I walk, farther in this heat, I see I pick the music for the words. Jumping through the artists lips, off their sheet music and into the silicone buds pressed deeply into my lobes.

My life is like a movie. And I am writing it right now. I don't know if you will want to watch this movie, or even listen to its soundtrack, but here I am, live, living without delay.

My picture-free instagram

My London Fog is thick and foamy. I would take a picture and post it on instagram, but I don't do that. It does seem as though we are truly the third grade mantra, "you are what you eat." Today though, I am not a pig, or a crabby patty. Today I am a poached egg, a citrus fruit and a London Fog. I wonder if we just did a journal of our life through pictures of what we ate... how interesting a journal it would be. Where and how we choose to eat determines a lot about who we are. It is the same concept of Forest Gump, and how you can understand people through their shoes.

We all have shoes we long to own and food we desire to eat. But when it comes down to it, it is about the shoes we are wearing right now, and the food we ate today.

Maybe that is why Portland Hipsters instagram all the time. You know the picture: a three photo box in sepia tone, dirty TOMS, a steamy cup of Stumptown and a gluten free Lox bagel. Perhaps they instagram to prove to the world that they really are wearing and eating who they are. And perhaps I don't instagram because I don't want to show the world what I am wearing and eating, because I don't like how it portrays who I am.

A transparency judged on appearance of shoes and food. Today, my instagram would be: Stretched out Birks, citrus fruit, and a cup of London Fog.

Hurrying Slow

Being alone, I am rushed. To write out my words. To think out my thoughts. To catch up on rest. Hours ticking into minutes only left. Hurry. Process. Move.

And though that second hand chases me at a steady pace, reminding me of time ticking away, I am unable to move. Unable to process. Unable to hurry.

Of my Sister

Harmony and I once had this conversation about how someday we wanted to homestead together. Well, not  quite together, but you know, be each others closest neighbors, a mile apart. Or maybe our houses would be next to each other, and our farms stretching in opposite directions. And with our opposite stretching farms, we wanted to homestead. For a year. And we we would live off the land. And raise our kids. And be each others best friends. For a year. Unless we really liked it, and maybe we would stay there forever. 


So, I have decided to homestead now! But I cant pretend very long; I am no homesteader. I mean, my potted tomato plant and three little pricks of herbs seem to be surviving the drought of the summer called "Heather keeps forgetting to water". Bu,t I am no homesteader. I read Pioneer Woman, and I cook some of her recipes, and my house is a home! But, I am no homesteader. I need my sister.


Harmony now lives in Oklahomah, and has a family, and is much closer to homesteading than I am at the moment. But I can guess that just because she lives in a not-so-little-duplex/house ... and it is near the prarie... I am going to guess that she is not feeling much like a homesteader either.


Tonight we talked about what our life would be like if we were neighbors. How entertwined our lives would be. How we would talk every day, multiple times a day. And we would be each others best friends. How I would know her children more in depth than the facebook pictures I stare at. How we would not have to ever "catch up", but we would always know. We talked about how much fun it would be. And then our laugh turned into a sigh, because we realized that this was not very real. And their was grief in that sigh, the grief that eluded to saying "I know! I know! Families were meant to live near each other." Because they were. And when we don't, it hurts. Because, we can't homestead alone.


Harmony, I wish you were here. So we could have dinner on my porch. And walk to the antique store/ coffee shop. So your kids could sleep over every Friday night, and be in my classes at the community center. I wish you knew Austin. And I wish I had more time with David. I wish that Austin and David were friends. I wish our lives were not 1877 miles away. (That's accurate, I checked.)


So, I have decided that it is about time for that homestead. Lets pick a place in the middle, and lets move. We can plant and sing and eat. We can get dirt under our toes. And giggle with the kids. And giggle by ourselves. And we can be each others best friends. We can be the big girls on the prairie, and live out all of our wildest Ingles dreams.


Ok, this is where I insert my own laugh turned to sigh. A sight that realizes the lack of reality. But... that sigh is turning back into a smile. Because I can choose to smile at whatever I want. And right now, I want to think about homesteading, :)


Harmony, I love that today was your birthday. And that you are my older sister. I love that we talked on the phone while I shopped for bathing suits, and that you told me all your learning about blogging. I love that you understand me, on a complex level, without me needing to do any explaining. I love that I get to come see you in 42 days! I love that we have stories and memories, but that our friendship doesn't rely on those alone. I love that together we can dream, and not feel too old. I love that I can still giggle with you, and that we can be the best of friends. I miss you more than Anne missed Green Gables while she was away at school. But I love you, as my kindred spirit and sister, more than any character in a book has ever been displayed.

Summer Camp Season

I work at a day camp. And it has become my life. I come in early, (well... sometimes) because I would rather make and drink my coffee there, hearing about my co-workers nights, than to be alone at home. I stay for long hours. Because I want to see the kids off properly, to see if it is to Moms house or Dads house they go, so I know what to anticipate in the morning. I talk to the kids all day long. And I talk about them all night long when I am home. I lay in bed thinking about them. I have even started dreaming about them! They are becoming my friends! These kids.

I have Treasure, and Fire Cracker, and Gemini. I have Daughter, and Challenge and Patience. There is Pouter, and Encourager and Clinger. And I love them.

Today we had a small group, and I just got to pay attention to them, in very individual ways. I got to learn things about them. I chose to have fun with them.

Gemini and I played War. And I laughed when we got doubles.
I laughed when Patience got jello all over her face, and laughed harder still when I got jello all over mine.
I grieved with Fire Cracker, when she was just having a rough day, and I cheered on Clinger as she faced a challenge!

This job is so much more than a job. Its a life style, and a kingdom chapter. This is very real life, what I am living with these kids. What they share with me. What I choose to share with them. And for now, I am ok with the fact that it has basically become my life. Because it is a season. A short nine week season.

Today Grammy...

My Grammy kept showing up today. I could not stop thinking about her. I kept expecting her to just be there. And she was.

 She was in her quilt that covered my exposed legs in the morning chill. 

 She was in the old woman who sat exhausted from a short walk.

 She was in the game of war I played with a camper, her laugh in the back of my head as I remembered the hundreds of rounds of this game that her and I would play. 

 She was in my hair. It was sticky and hard from an impass with jello that I lost. I remembered how she use to spritz my hair with sugar water to make it stay in place. I had forgotten about that for many years, until my impasse today with jello. 

 She was in the sign that read "Lets Party!" 

 She was in my sisters blog.

 And she was in my heart. As I showered and winded down my day, I though about how terribly I miss her voice. How I have seen her stuff, and smelled her smell... but I havn't heard her. I think I can in my head, but I miss her voice. Her laugh. Her sigh and whistle and hum. 

Even though she showed up today, so many times. I still just wish she were here. Death is a stinky, dirty thing.  One perhaps I shall never fully come to grips with. Because, although I could spend my day with her almost being there... I would rather have just had her here. 

Moving.

I remember when I was 4 and we moved into this HUGE house. Harmony and Matthew and I made a fort/house out of appliance boxes in the garage, and we slept there on the first night in the new house...

I don't know if we actually slept out there or not, something tells me we just pretended to. But, I remember that about moving.

And I remember moving into the next house, the one on the river. I was eight. Harmony and Matthew convinced me I had the choice of any room in the house, and convinced me to pick the smallest room. I always loved that room, because I felt that it had been my choice. I could have picked ANY room in the house, but I picked that one!

And then when I was 10, we moved again... I don't remember the moving. But I remember when we found the house, and all I cared about was that it was a block from my best friend in the WHOLE WORLD! Jessica Henson! (Now, Jessica Polley.)

This weekend, I helped my parents move. Its been 14 years. And while I have some memories of those other houses, the one they just left was the one that built me. Made me think of Miranda Lamberts song.  How is it that a place can do that to you? A home, walls, floor, ceiling ... how can it hold so much? It's love and memories and growth. It is a physical representation of life and who I am and why.

My parents new house is awesome, and I know it will begin to be more and more like home. The first night I stayed there, in the guest room, helping them unpack, I didn't sleep at all. I woke around 2 am, and went to the kitchen for water, looking at boxes and fuzzily thinking about the strange layout. The other house will always hold a place in my heart. This time, I will remember this move. The packing of boxes, and the unpacking of boxes. The letting go and the setting up. The tearing down, and the building up.

It is really a reminder to me about how this place is really just a temporary home, until we go home for eternity to be with our savior. And when we do, it will be so good.

Burnside Table.

In September, my life took many new turns. As a need for stability arose, I asked my friend Larisa who was attending church with me, if she would find a church small group and commit to it with me. And she did just that.

We met Chris and Noelle on small group Sunday, they told us to remember their names like Christmas - Chris and Noelle. And we did. Noelle and I also had the same Merona brand, brown Cardigan. And their house was only a mile from where we lived. So we attended that Thursday and committed to every week. And we have stuck to that unless there was something else going on that had to pull us.

And while at this small group, I had the opportunity to get to know this man, Austin Way. And he has become one of the joys of my life!

And we participated in a real community, one that I had not experienced since I was very little. It brought back many memories of my parents hosting such home groups in their home. Of the guitar versions of "As the Deer Pants for the Water." Of the store bought pastries, the coffee, the laying on of hands in prayer, the tears, the stories, the late nights, the laughter, the clean house. I see now, what it must have been like for them... good. It must have been So Good. No wonder they committed to it in such a deep way.

At our small group this past year, called Burnside Table, we enjoyed a potluck meal together every week. We bonded over food, the way I imagine Jesus and his Disciples sitting around the big feast tables. I learned many new recipes, and had failed attempts on just as many. Noelle taught me that it is possible to make a different soup every week without repeating one for a solid seven months.

I learned how to study the word, in a group, in a productive way. I learned how to interact with differing ages again. And the wisdom that comes from the couples my parents age. And the joy of watching a baby grow before our very eyes. I learned about unconditional love, and support. I experienced a safe place to share myself, to cry out, to be seen and heard, to hear and listen.

Thursday we had our last small group. Chris and Noelle just received news of an incredible job/ministry opportunity that will bring them back to their home in California! Normally on group nights, we discuss what was discussed on Sundays. Well, this past Sunday, there was no sermon, we spent the service sending people off. And Thursday, that was what we did. We feasted. And worshiped. And prayed. And cried. And  sent off. Together we have tasted and seen that the Lord is indeed good.

I am starting to loath change, but this change, this one just IS ... it needs to be. There was something so beautiful about the end of it all. It ended well. And strong. And really, the dynamics are just changing, because it is our leaders who are leaving, but the group is still here. And I see so clearly how the Lord works, and how he carries us to do exactly what he wants us to do, through seasons, some short.

Noelle and Chris, you opened heart and home to me. Thank you for teaching me, for living life with me. May the Lord bless you and keep you! And I know we shall all see you again soon! And to the other members of Burnside Table, lets continue this that we have started. "For everything there is a season, a time for every matter under heaven." (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

And last night, I came home with Larisa, who now lives with me. And we sat on her bed and reflected over these past seven months. What a joy. What a joy. What a joy.

Shut the Front Door

Portlandia. "The place where young people go to retire."

Yesterday at Powells, our hipster donning, non-pastel color wearing, monotone speaking, cashier, provided us an experience. He spoke just a decibel above a whisper, just so we could hear that his voice was manly to match his skinny, upper lip styling 'stash'. After turning the book over a few times, in an effort that looked much more like weight lifting, he sighed a deep sigh, and asked what floor I got my book on ... obviously irritated that the bar code would not scan, but hoping not to do any extra work than at all possible. About three minutes later, he determined that the $1.00 Clarence stickers were indeed legit, and not just mine own doings to try to get a them at a lower price. I got my books, and he seemed relieved that I would not, heaven forbid, need a bag to put my books in, because I indeed had my own. Oh dear Mr. Powells man, I am sorry that you were working overtime, and that I caught you on your 11th hour during a normally 10 hour work week. I know that you came to Portland to retire young, to not work too hard, ... congratulations, you have achieved your goal.

And to the customers who come in and out of Posies Cafe of where I sit... how hard is it to close a door behind you? We sit on this couch, glancing through the windows, analyzing your every move, and critizing when you are unable to simply shut a door behind you. Not all doors are auto-shut. I know that you all came to Portland to retire early, and you are already on your days off, you have more of them then you work, but ... for the sake of those sitting on the couch, catching the drafts... please take the time to just shut the door behind you.

Change

I have always loved change... Until recently.

Today, Tuesday, my room mate Chelsea got on an airplane for Japan.
My house mate Holly is moving out on Thursday.
Sarah, Kaylah and Melissa are graduating on Friday.
Saturday enters in the season called summer break, AKA every one in my life now in vacation mode..
One of my best friends Katie is returning to Colorado on Sunday
The leaders of my small group are short notice moving home to California in two weeks.
My parents are changing houses, after 14 years of one place called home.

And I am still here. Four more weeks of school. Change swirling around me like a tornado. The thing is, that each of those changes are good, for the people to whom the change is taking place. And it is exceptionally selfish of me to not be rejoicing with them! In my heart, I am excited about these things, for graduations, and moving home and summer vacations.

Then, I realized, I love change ... when I am the one changing. When I am the one making decisions and in control. But I am not. This time, everyone else's decisions or changes affected me in some way, and I feel slightly insecure in a vulnerable place of not being able to change anything.

The thing is, that I value consistency more than change. And consistency is what I have. I have extremly consistent relationships. The people in those relationships might be moving physical location, but they are consistent in my life. In my efforts to mope about those leaving, I have greatly over looked those who are staying here, and how blessed I am. Angela Joy is returning to the house, to be and live and laugh. I live in a house with 6 other amazing women whom I am so blessed to be surrounded by. Austin is staying in Portland for the summer, living just a block away.

I commonly cope with change by attaching myself to people, to a new person. But this time, I realize that I don't need to do that. I already have people I am attached to, people who are attached to me. I need to process, not cope. I praise the Lord for Heather Linn, my best friend who has stuck with me through every silly and serious change I have ever encountered. Change may be swirling around me, but I am in a weatherproof box, surrounded by walls of friendship so thick that no amount of flying debris can make me fly away.

To those whom change is taking place, know that I support you and am excited with you! Please forgive me; for my attitude lately, for being quiet, for not supporting you. This world is not all about about, and thank goodness for that.

To Cruzer

It was a week ago today, that the Lord took your wife from you, so she could be with Him. You had been married a year. It was unexpected and unexplainable – but isn’t that just like our Lord? His deep mysteries remain that to us, but knowing that that he is mysterious does not ease the pain. Because there is pain. There is deep searing pain in loss. And Andrew? We grieve with you. We hurt and ache and cry out to the Lord for answers. We cry with you.

Tonight, there will be a memorial service for Jennica. And you will be surrounded. By your family. And her family. And your church family. And your school family. She was and is a part of us. Just as you are a part of us.  As a body, Andrew Cruz, we stand up next to you, as your foundation and your shaky arms. We stand close, so that our hearts can beat a little slower with yours.  We are in this with you. Now, and next week, and ten years from now.

I don’t know you well Cruz … but I do want you to know that with you I grieve.

Truth

y name is Heather Ziebart.

I am a 23 year old White Caucasian Female. I was born a female. I will always be a female.

I am a straight heterosexual. I like boys. I believe in opposite sex marriage, with one person, for life.

I am a virgin. I believe that sex is to be saved for marriage. And I believe that children should come from within this marriage.

I am a Christian. I believe that the one and only God made the world and all that is in it. I believe that he made me. And that he has a plan for my life.

These things are who I am. They are the core of my being. And right now, PSU is challenging my being. I am surrounded by feminist propaganda in three of my classes. I was told yesterday that just because I have a vagina, that does not make me a girl. It is my choice. My choice. I am being told that the Bible has good stuff in it… but it is not Feminist friendly. I have been told that white, heterosexual, straight, middle class, Christian, nuclear families are not only rare, but on the failing end of the slope as far as families go. I have been told that if I have not explored my sexuality, or questioned my gender, then I probably need to. I am being told that people who marry and have children are simply “breeders” nothing more. They are just following some stereotype expectation, and not living their lives for themselves. I am reading about how history has forgotten women, but we need to “STAND UP NOW” and make sure they gosh darn don’t forget about us from here on out. I am riled up. My blood boils. But I can turn it off. I want to know what is being said. I don’t want to throw it out. I want to question my theology and not throw out biology.

I like the challenges. I like hearing what others have grown up thinking. And getting a glimpse at what the world is hearing. But some days, like this week, it is just loud noise. The words are packages of lies, all wrapped up in a presentation too alluring to not rip open. It is good to question. To think through. To know. The sheep know the voice of the shepherd. And in this truth I shall rest.

Top of the Morning to You!

 

Grammy, today I called my mom, your daughter. And I told her “Top of the Morning!” When I woke up this morning, I thought of you. I wanted to call you. But I could not. This is my first St. Patrick’s Day without you. I know you always loved this day. The Irishness of it. I remember last year, I came to visit you unexpectedly. And even though Aunt Donna was caring for you, your house still had that familiar scent of caraway seeds from the warm Irish Soda Bread. I remember that we went on about how frustrating it was that the Columbian newspaper failed to even mention the holiday. I promised to tell everyone I knew of the day, of the history, of the legacy.

I remember when I was little. And I would call you on the phone. And you would tell me stories of when you were little. How Cleveland Ohio in the 30’s was Irish Central. How you had the day off school and had a big Irish Celebration. A Celebration of your heritage. You talked about how your dad, Pampa, would pull out his items from home, tucked safely away in an attic trunk the rest of the year. And you talked of how your parents would speak Gaelic to each other, but you never learned a word.  You talked about the celebrations on the street.

I wish I had been there. It is so far removed from this “green” day we have now. The “I’ll pinch you if your not wearing green".” The Leprechauns and four leaf clovers. Those might be the decorations I have in my house, but in my heart, being Irish is deeper. I am glad you are my Grammy. And that you taught me about this day. That even if I can’t explain it, I hold a memory worth more than a pot o’ gold.

Class?

Man in a wheel chair.

Appears maybe homeless.

Enters the Max.

People move away. Turn away. Pretend he is not there.

What is this? A caste system??

He asks over and over if anyone will take him to McDonalds.

I watch from far down, no one responds. I move closer. Ask him to repeat his request.

He is just very tired and would love a push to McDonalds.

I gladly say I will push him. Its on my way to my class. Only two blocks away. People back up as if I am not a caste too.

Its not like touching his handlebars will paralyze me. I want to scream at everyone. For not responding to him. For being Jerks.

His name is Bryan, and he had a joyful, thankful heart. We talked about snow.

He asked to buy me a sausage sandwhich.

I decline.

Sausage Sandwhichs were my Grammys favorite.

A random guy looks at me and says I am amazing.

Why?

Because I pushed a guy in a wheel chair when non one else would.

Bryan… I hope to give you a ride again.

Doubting

I am sitting in my Cafe at PSU. Ease-dropping. I left my headphones at home today. Today that was an accident. But, I am glad that I did.

I am absolutely captivated by the Lord these days. I find myself challenged and doubting and questing, and ultimately, trusting. My faith has always been easy, you hand it to me, feed it to me, I believe it. The end. It has always been mine. I have never had a problem with it. I have never thought much about the fact that people were much different from I. I mean, I have accepted that there are people in the world going to hell, and that it is my job to reach them... but it seems so big, and so far fetched, that the reality of it has never moved me enough to actually partake in action. Yes, I have been on "mission" trips. And they changed my perspective of the world... but it did not challenge my faith.

The group at the table next to me are having this discussion, and I wish I had joined in at the beginning, but now it is awkward because I have been listening, and am now writing about them. They are taking about church, and God, and what they believe. "Did you hear theory that Jesus might be Buddhist? I kind of like that theory." They continued to share their knowledge of church, throwing terms like "evangelical" and "Pentecostalism" . One of the guys responded to the latter word by saying he would love to attend just one service to "see those tongue speakers in action."

One of the girls, her dad is a pastor in Portland, she is part of a different church in Portland. " Its cool, they curse, and we don't really like read the bible, and for sermons, people just kind of talk, and share whatever they want. We meet in a yoga studio, its more like spiritual than christian, we meditate and pray and stuff. But its weird. I like it though. Cause its like a house church, a small group. But we celebrate halloweeen, which is cool." Her parents think she is part of a good church. She won't tell them what it is like. Because her dad would be mad and sh--. The other people in the conversation talked about how dumb that was, that parents get mad when their kids don't follow their ways.

It was so interesting sitting right here, listening. So much of what they said was honest. And they respected each other in their conversation. And I know if I had joined in, they would have been so open to what I had to say. Not because they want to be converted, but because they are open to letting anyone believe whatever they want to believe. I always assumed that non-Christians just hated Christians, and honestly, that Christians hated non-Christians. This was the model that was presented to me... or at least the way I interpreted the model presented to me. Real life is nothing like the cheesy "evangelism" videos we watch in Sunday school classes. Real life is full of peoples pain, and open hearts, and a longing for truth. Real life is open to listening, and is not condemning and hears what people has to say. Real life is a place where God shows up, where he speaks and moves.

I just started a class this term called Feminist Biblical Interpretation. I could write a blog just describing the 19 other people in my class. Yesterday we did introductions. 8 of the students identified as growing up in the church. But the most common thing said was "I am on a spiritual journey." One girl said she knew nothing of the bible, and felt that a feminist approach would be a good place to start.

I am 23 years old. I have a life time of church with me, multiple read overs of the scripture, two years of bible college on my belt, and a very active relationship with the Lord. I am not scared of this class turning me into a Feminist Christian. What I do feel is excitement that we get to read the word of God in school. And I know that the Word of God does not return void. So as I am in this place, full of people on spiritual journeys, I am thankful for real life, and the opportunity to doubt, but to know that in the end, My God is good.

Worth it.

I never journaled about 9/11. And growing up, I didn't take any pictures of my best friend Katy Lucas. And up to this point, I have not yet blogged about Austin.

It seems that the most obvious, life changing events seem to be overlooked in the world of writing. Not because they are not important, but because they are SO important. How can you possibly capture them in words? When something holds such a large part of your heart and life captive, do you really have time to stop and write of it?

For me, writing is a way to process. A way to make things real. A way to never forget. But, when the large, obvious thing is what makes me process. When it is, already, so very real. And when it needs not written to be remembered. It is then, that is is not written of.

Austin has entered my life, in such a Way, only he could. And it is obvious. And real. And something I shall not be forgetting. Austin, you are worth writing about, I just don't think that my writings can do you justice.

On Writing

"Every once in a while, when I write, I feel that feeling of a thousand slender threads coming together, strands of who I've been and who I'm becoming, the long moments at the computer and the tiny bits of courage, the middle of the night prayers and the exact way God made me, not wrong or right, just me. I feel like I'm doing what I came to do, in the biggest sense. That's why I write, because sometimes, every once in a while, I feel entirely at home in the universe, a welcome and wonderful feeling. I could cry at the feeling, because it happens so rarely. Doing the hard work of writing makes me feel like I am paying rent at the cosmic level, doing the thing that I can do to make the world a little better decorated. Writing wakes me up, lights me on fire, opens my eyes to the things I can never see and feel when I am hiding under the covers, cowering and consumed with my own failures and fears. "

Shauna Niequist - Bittersweet p.161-162

I totally agree with and come along side her words, an echo of I AGREE!

To sing Hallelujah

I am reading this book called "bittersweet." The author writes short chapters, discussing short chapters within her own life. By using names and telling stories. As I rode the 72 bus this morning on the way to pre-school, I was captivated by a few of the pages that I read.

She wrote about the season she was currently in. About living with her husband and her small son, and being lonely. About how she had just come from a very rough spot, but did not recognize in it the joys of being in it.

"I'm able to see now that what made that season feel so terrible to me were not the changes. What made that season feel so terrible is that I lost track of some of the crucial beliefs and practices that every Christian must carry with them..."

I think about this. How much I say I desire change. It seems though, that when I am in the midst of change (which is like my entire last year), I seem to handle it quite terribly. I have been blaming my terrible attitude on all of the changes, and trying to "handle them." But, this is a very low blow blame. What makes me feel terrible is that I am losing track of some of my crucial beliefs. When I become focused on me, I begin to trust in myself, which shows my distrust in God. Which is like me saying that I do not believe he is good. But He is! He is Good! He is trust worthy! And if I would just let him have it, and not worry about the changes, I think I would find this to not be a terrible season, but a very purifying experience...

She then wrote about a weekend where she flew to California to spend three days with her college friends and their small babies. How they just rejoiced in every single squeezed out moment of lemonade life that weekend. And how if you are still in that season where you live with those people, to continue squeezing out every moment.

I can't help but thinking about the season I am in. I mean, I blog about it practically every day for gosh sake. (http://welaughbecause.wordpress.com/) Because I know that it is good. But, reading her words, about how life will be. How the day will come when we will not all live in the same house... or city for that matter. How we will be spread all over this country and world. How we will rejoice in memories past. I know right now, that I serve a very good God, that he allows such a powder sugar covered season to exist.

I know too, that an end does come to all good things. And because of The Fall, we can not live our lives in secluded community with those relationships close to perfection. We must venture out into the world, furthering His Kingdom. But, there is great peace when I think of eternity. When I think of the word forever, and how very long of a time that is. What a party heaven will be! It would be very selfish for us to keep to ourselves the Joy of our Savior, so we must, for a short time, share of ourselves while here on earth. But, we have a hope, a hope of a day to come when pain and suffering shall exist no more. When the hallelujahs sung to our King are echoing off golden streets. Forever and Ever...

So, while I am in this season of churning change, and powder sugar covered joys, I will trust in my Good God, and share of his perfections, awaiting the day when together we will sing unending Hallelujahs!

At the end of the day...

I know that God is good.

On writing Books

I often use the phrase, "Someday, when I write a book..."

And I proceed to say what I would write. How the instance that just took place would be re-written, and only slightly exaggerated for the readers entertainment. For a long time, I thought I would just write one book, it would be a mix of my thoughts and stories, kind of like Blue like Jazz. But now, there will be three.

1. The first one will be my thoughts. The lessons I have learned over the years, the things that God has just pounded into my heart, and how they changed me into the person I am today.

2. About my Aunts and family dynamics. I am convinced that my mom, 4 aunts and Grammy make up the best combination of women that ever existed. The stories I have from growing up are enough to keep anyone rolling on the ground with chest pains from laughter, and a shirt drenched in tears.

3. This is my new book. About my house. You put 7 girls in one house, who choose to purposefully live life together, and you have a big book of stories. Every day we find ourselves laughing at our life. At its glories, at its poverty, at the Lords goodness. So a new book is on its way... I just need to be writing some of it down so I don't forget in 30 years when I do get a chance to write this book!

Little Star

There you are little star, resting.

Resting in the darkness; shining bright.

You are secure and confidant little star, resting.

I stare at you and am amazed. Do you even know of your own beauty?

You are familiar that’s true, to a foreign eye only glancing your way…

But to me, you are familiar, because I know you.

I created you.

Your beauty is not that you are like the rest, but because you dwell in my rest.

Your beauty little star  shows in your ability to be who you are, just where you are.

You are able to be you, the little star I created, and you don’t need to be more.

You don’t need to be part of the Milky Way, but you are.

You don’t need to one day soar in a meteor shower… but you will.

And today, you are a little star, one among millions, and you don’t try to change.

Thank you little star, for staying little.

For keeping your glitter.

Its ok to shine.

Look to the moon, and your own radiance will amaze you.

Because I love to shine through my little stars.

The Audacity

So my sister sent me this book for Christmas. Its called “Why isn’t a pretty girl like you married yet?” I opened it and was like, REALLY? And inside there was a little note that read, “Heather, please don’t be offended by the title, this author is one of my favorite…” And so, because it was my sister who gave the book, and she has only ever given great books, I gave it a try… And it was one of the best books I have ever read! I gave up on relationship and singleness books a few years ago. Besides “Passion and Purity” by Elisabeth Elliot, I was tired of empty words of “encouragement” That was not very encouraging, but, this author is amazing!

It is the new house book, the third person is already starting on it, and we are all making notes, I am not sure if there will be any lines left to underline once we are done with it. The thing about the book is that it is brutally honest. And it is not about singleness, not really. It is about being a woman, and how you carry yourself. She is just straight up, and confronting. Sarah said “its like your mom or sister is talking … you want to be defensive at everything she says. You want to yell at her and tell her you WILL NOT try that , when you know you most certainly will.'”

I grew tired of hearing “once you are content being single you will get into a relationship. Show me that in the Bible. But you know what scripture does say? It says love the Lord you God, it says respect your father, it says to work hard and to strive to a life of purity. To cling to the Lord and he will direct your path. To spend your time in his courts. That a father gives good gifts to his children. That he created man and woman to be one. His word is full of promises, but not on a time line. His promises are based upon our obedience, not on completion of tasks. It is not a scavenger hunt that rewards a husband at the end.

This book talked much about guarding your relationships with men, with single men with your friends married husbands, with your fathers. It talked about being a woman who loves the Lord, she encouraged you to seek Him out now. To make habits that will last. To learn how to do things, to clean and study  and enjoy life. She talked about relationships with other girls, and creating boundaries even there, to not be too dependent upon each other, both physically and emotionally. She talked about getting over yourself; rid of selfishness and hatred and bitterness. And she talked on lies. How we make up and believe lies, and we try to convince others of them, “I don’t want to be married, I am happy being single, am too busy for a relationship. If I were really a Christian, I would be able to accept being single. If I were really trusting the Lord, I would have contentment without a relationship.” But, the Lord cant forgive imaginary sin. We feel guilt about things that we shouldn’t feel guilty about and beg him to forgive us, when he is begging us to just trust him and be honest that we are longing. And then, she talked about beautifying. We loved this chapter most. About beautifying yourself, your appearance, your heart, your home, your activities. The Lord loves beauty, and he wants us to enjoy and dwell in that. As young women, we often feel guilty about beauty, feeling like we should wait, saying yes to the some day notion. But, as we read through and discussed this chapter the other night, we all just jumped on it. Yes! Embrace beauty. Now. The way that we carry ourselves and present ourselves and our home.

Anyways, this book has just brought about the beginning of conversations and blogs I am sure.

2011 Lessons learned

A good friend of mine and I were talking about the new year, reflecting on the last. The question was posed “ what stood out in 2011? What themes?” And immediately I was able to see these things that the Lord has been spilling out again and again.

1) Joy and Grief must co-exist. There has been much grief this year. Having my sister live so far away, leaving Multnomah to start at Portland State, and losing my Grammy in September. I have always associated grief to be a negative emotion, and negative therefore being associated with sin. What I have been learning instead is that grief is a beautiful thing. Grief is an emotion that our Lord felt and expressed. But without knowing joy first, I would not have recognized the grief. And because I let myself feel the grief, the joy that came in the morning was so much greater! To feel one fully, I had to feel the other. This had been an ongoing conversation with many of my friends as we allow ourselves to feel more fully.

2) Relinquishing Control. I am a bit of a control freak, I’ll admit that. Sometimes over the top OCD, sometimes just desiring attention. It is true that I have leadership skills and that people look to me to make decision, but desiring to be in constant control is not what the Lord had in mind I am sure. My friends are constantly encouraging me with the word “relinquish”. Let someone else take over, even if it is not as good, giving up control is humbling and sacrificing and painful … and so good. This played itself out in the house this summer, and I let people plan and initiate and clean in their own ways. I had to learn that the community house I live in is not mine, it is ours. And because it is ours, I am not allowed to take control of it. Also, not having a car this past year has helped me lose control. I can not make the bus take me places faster. And when I did not have a job, I could not make money come from nowhere, I had to trust and relinquish to the Lord that he was in control.

In 2010, my big word of the year was TRUST. The Lord was constantly asking me “Do you trust me more than you trust yourself?” Ouch. How often my answer was “no.” And this summer as I relinquished to him, I saw that his plans were so much better than what I could plan for myself. I had no idea how much I would love taking public transit, riding my bike to my job at the park, attending public school, working at MACYS, having a roommate (who is amazing!) After I planned and planned and planned, and my plans fell through, I finally said, “Ok Lord, fine, I relinquish." My words were pretty empty at first, and it took a while for my heart to catch up, but when it did… wow. He just knows what we need. A father gives good gifts to his children.

I am blown away at this past year. All that has taken place, all the ways I have changed. All the ways the Lord proved himself faithful. But as fun as this past year was, it was hard… and I will tell you what, 2012 holds some pretty exciting things, and I can’t wait for the Lord to reveal them!