Raining
Lightly tinging the metal roof
Some distant thunder
Then raining harder
Then heavy
Hitting the metal roof just inches above our heads
Steady
Thunder moves closer
Eventually a torrential downpour
Cozy in here
Intense storm
Long storm
Thunder rumbling, crackling, rolling
Storm is right on top of us
All around us
Cracking here, then over there
Rumbling overhead and rolling across the sky
Suddenly quiet
Bird calling furiously outside the window
Storm pulling away
Thunder rumbling softly in the distance
Then none
Peace
Quiet
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Windows
The big house had lots of windows. The family room had one entire wall of ten windows and the dining room also had ten windows – spread around three sides of the room. Each of the bedrooms had at least 2 windows. In the big house, we could gaze out at the world around us while staying comfortable and insulated from the weather. In fact, I have whole photo albums – like “my windows on winter” – recording the outside beauty from inside vantage points. However, this new place has only three windows – meaning that I can’t see what’s happening out there from inside. I must step outside to enjoy or to assess the surroundings. I must make myself vulnerable and get out there. Yikes. 
It rather reminds me of my former existence within the institutional church. I was happily occupied with all kinds of ministries. I could observe the world around me while staying safe and comfortable – insulated from the conditions out there. I even hosted an annual event that I called "window on the world."
However, now that I am outside the walls, I feel vulnerable and more than a bit uncomfortable. But I also realize that “out here” is where I need to be if I want to engage the culture and really live the love of Jesus. My perspective was in dire need of correction – which could have only happened outside. I must now learn how to live and love out here in the real world.
However, now that I am outside the walls, I feel vulnerable and more than a bit uncomfortable. But I also realize that “out here” is where I need to be if I want to engage the culture and really live the love of Jesus. My perspective was in dire need of correction – which could have only happened outside. I must now learn how to live and love out here in the real world.
Freedom, movement, transition
After living in comfort and convenience and security for pretty much all of my life, we are starting out on an adventure unlike any other – that may seem silly & irresponsible. But it is a step of freedom, a step to freedom. And it is not just about where we live or don’t live and what we own and enjoy. It is also about what we believe and what we value. Our “before” life was full of stuff and all kinds of space to contain the stuff. Our new life has very little space to keep things, so we are throwing stuff overboard as quickly as we can pry our fingers open. If we are to travel, we can’t carry all this baggage. My perspective has changed about which things really matter to me. I realize that some of them are cherished for good reason while others now seem less important and even downright silly in the light of the journey.
So too in my soul and spirit – I have been in transition – a transition consisting of sorting and pitching the beliefs that I have clung to all my life. I have been taking a long hard look at all the bags and boxes of beliefs that had long bogged me down. The process of disentangling the piles of legalistic rules and expectations has been arduous, but I have recently realized that I am feeling free – in a pared-down sense, clean & lean, lighter and re-energized. I am discovering which things really matter and should be cherished. I also now recognize how unimportant other things are – downright silly even.
Yes, it feels weird to no longer be confined – and defined – by the walls that kept me safe and provided comfort and predictability as well as lots of space to store my stuff. Yes, it is scary to be outside those walls and facing the vast unknown – and with relatively few creature comforts. But it is an adventure – one which I’m glad to finally be free to embark.
So too in my soul and spirit – I have been in transition – a transition consisting of sorting and pitching the beliefs that I have clung to all my life. I have been taking a long hard look at all the bags and boxes of beliefs that had long bogged me down. The process of disentangling the piles of legalistic rules and expectations has been arduous, but I have recently realized that I am feeling free – in a pared-down sense, clean & lean, lighter and re-energized. I am discovering which things really matter and should be cherished. I also now recognize how unimportant other things are – downright silly even.
Yes, it feels weird to no longer be confined – and defined – by the walls that kept me safe and provided comfort and predictability as well as lots of space to store my stuff. Yes, it is scary to be outside those walls and facing the vast unknown – and with relatively few creature comforts. But it is an adventure – one which I’m glad to finally be free to embark.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Moving day
It seems like I should be more... something. I don't know what, but something. Or maybe I expected to be more - perhaps emotional or stressed or something. I guess I thought I'd be all sad and messed up. It's a good thing that I'm not. Mostly I'm tired & I want to be done.
Yep, really tired - of the mess, of the process, of having our stuff divided between two places. Having bread at the old place, but no butter; a microwave and pans, but no food – while at the new place there is butter but no bread and no knives, food but no way to cook them.
Today was the day scheduled to move the bread and the butter, the microwave and the fridge, the food and the tools for cooking the food. That would have been fairly smooth perhaps, but circumstances moved up the schedule for moving the fridge last night instead – which was not very smooth, but is done. So today we are fragmented; at least our kitchen is. By tonight we should be back together – reunited with our food – and our cooking tools. Tonight we should be starting to feel at home in our new home – or is that a little ambitious? I wouldn’t know, never having done this moving thing before.
The light increases outside my window.
Morning arrives – this last morning to enjoy in this place.
Yep, really tired - of the mess, of the process, of having our stuff divided between two places. Having bread at the old place, but no butter; a microwave and pans, but no food – while at the new place there is butter but no bread and no knives, food but no way to cook them.
Today was the day scheduled to move the bread and the butter, the microwave and the fridge, the food and the tools for cooking the food. That would have been fairly smooth perhaps, but circumstances moved up the schedule for moving the fridge last night instead – which was not very smooth, but is done. So today we are fragmented; at least our kitchen is. By tonight we should be back together – reunited with our food – and our cooking tools. Tonight we should be starting to feel at home in our new home – or is that a little ambitious? I wouldn’t know, never having done this moving thing before.
The light increases outside my window.
Morning arrives – this last morning to enjoy in this place.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Sweet sounds & strange sounds
I woke up to the sweet sounds of summer drifting in the open window - mourning doves cooing, woodpeckers pecking and song birds singing cheerily. I was thrilled that I had the time to soak in the sounds of this place another day, to memorize them for some future reminiscence. What a privilege has been mine to live amongst these sounds, to celebrate them as the normal backdrop of my life here. I am so accustomed to these sweet sounds but may I never take them for granted.
Another sound has been surfacing around here the last few days – this one not so familiar – in fact pretty much unheard of until just now. That rare sound we keep noticing is the echoing emptiness in one room after another once all of the furniture has been moved out. How weird. These rooms have never been empty enough to echo before. To the contrary they have been gradually filling up even before construction was completed and for 40 years since.
I am very grateful that the empty echoes do not reverberate in my soul as might easily have happened. Instead, there are mostly soft sighs of joy triggered by memories throughout the spacious rooms.
Interestingly some of the rooms are already filling up again. The new renters needed a place to unload their rental truck so we offered one of the rooms that we had vacated. It is now filled to the ceiling with boxes & beds & couches piled precariously awaiting the moving in of their owners. I find myself excited that these walls will soon be echoing child laughter again and that these floors will feel the patter of little feet running & exploring their new home. And I find myself looking forward to the new sounds that we will discover as we wake up in new places on our journey.
Sweet sounds, strange sounds, soft sighs...
Another sound has been surfacing around here the last few days – this one not so familiar – in fact pretty much unheard of until just now. That rare sound we keep noticing is the echoing emptiness in one room after another once all of the furniture has been moved out. How weird. These rooms have never been empty enough to echo before. To the contrary they have been gradually filling up even before construction was completed and for 40 years since.
I am very grateful that the empty echoes do not reverberate in my soul as might easily have happened. Instead, there are mostly soft sighs of joy triggered by memories throughout the spacious rooms.
Interestingly some of the rooms are already filling up again. The new renters needed a place to unload their rental truck so we offered one of the rooms that we had vacated. It is now filled to the ceiling with boxes & beds & couches piled precariously awaiting the moving in of their owners. I find myself excited that these walls will soon be echoing child laughter again and that these floors will feel the patter of little feet running & exploring their new home. And I find myself looking forward to the new sounds that we will discover as we wake up in new places on our journey.
Sweet sounds, strange sounds, soft sighs...
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
To my man
I had tried to prepare myself for the gamut of emotions - from excitement to grief and fear and stress - but have been pleasantly surprised to have joy and excitement winning out most of the time.
You have been amazing in this process - doing more than your share of the work, but especially being patient with me.
You have been so unexpectedly good at knowing when to push me and when to give me space - which has provided a safe place for me to do all of this processing. I am so very grateful for your provision, protection and patience.
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