The Play's the Thing

It's hell week, supposedly starting tomorrow, because it's our all day tech rehearsal... but I think it's starting today. I am totally and unequivocally overwhelmed. There's no heart searching. There's no tender, sweet times of personal respite or recovery. There is no sacred space. That girl has to take a back seat this week. This time is just list after list after list: props, costumes, lights, sound. This is frantic phone calls for fog machines and lamp posts. This is begging parents for help. This is kids who still don't know their lines. This is mom the director. This is insane. This is my other world.

A few days ago, one of the kids (an 8th grader, no less) quit the play. Why? "It's not fun anymore," he said. So, what is fun? Is this fun? I don't know anymore. I'm thinking it stopped being fun for me awhile ago. Did I count the cost? The "fun" at at my "real job" has piled up because I'm getting to work two hours late every other day. Next week, I leave 3 hours early every day because I have to rehearse after school. I'll owe the time back. I'm out of leave. I'm in negative leave. Now, that's a concept.

But, like birthing a child... well, ok, not quite like birthing a real baby, but the idea is the same, once the labor is finished and the play is up... and the kids realize that they really "could" do it and the applause and the joy and the pride in a thing well done... maybe that's where the fun will really be. Fun... work... accomplishment... process.

I think there is a key here... something to consider... the process. Well, can't think about that right now... need to find that fuzzy, white material... will it look like snow?

Unfinished Floor

Nothing but a complaint today. Mike started putting in the new floor in my special space and he decided half way through the project that the pattern was too much trouble so he changed it. I tried to go along with it, but in my heart, I knew it would always bother me. Even though most of it will be covered by a rug, I need it to be right. Order. Beauty. Comfort. Safety. So, one way or another, I guess it will have to come up and be even more unfinished than it is now. I know it won't be easy... in fact, downright difficult. And I'll probably have to do it myself. Even more difficult.

Sounds a little like my life. Start... stop... shortcut... go back... start over... become overwhelmed... stop... wait... start over.

So many unfinished floors in my life. So many.

Old Names and Old Flames

Got a message from a very old flame today. I'm trying to remember how many years ago it was that our heart strings twanged: 1979. That's a long time. Isn't it odd? In less than 3 days, two people from my long ago past have dropped back into my radar. I don't get that. I mean, in the really big picture, in the cosmic picture that only God can truly see... what do these whispers mean?

I only know this: old names and old flames bring up lots of memories and with those memories come shadow feelings. I think the girl-woman of those years is asking to be integrated into the woman of today. Hm. What would that look like? (see 4/12 entry)

What Do I Say When Someone Cries "Help!"

What do I say? After all, I'm a dyed in the wool, born again, hand-raisin' Christian. So, why is it so hard when the voice on the phone... an old voice, a woman who shared bread with us 15 years ago... an old acquaintance/friend.... What do I say, when she calls and says, "I'm dying here. My daughter beat me up last night. I'm so afraid." How can this be?

It turns out she's been living barely 15 minutes away from me for the last two years but didn't have the nerve to call. She's in some kind of messy divorce. Her estranged husband was abusing her ... but no one back in her New Jersey church believed her. So she ran back to Maryland, to her daughter. It's all so much drama.

Her daughther & son-in-law are both drug addicts. And yet, their place was full of rules. Everything had to align with their topsy turvy schedule. She was getting sucked into their lifestyle... self-medicating the pain. I'm not sure why, but she's also on disability. She's only 61. She's waiting for special housing for the elderly.

What do I say?

"Help me," she cries. "Can you help me? Can I stay in your home for awhile? I'm so afraid." What do I say? How long, I think. Now? But I just got my life back from three years of caring for my elderly, mentally unstable mother. Go Away! Don't ask me to help you. Don't ask me to carry another dying soul. No. I won't. I can't. I don't want to. I just want...

What did I really say? I said, "Come." Just, come. We'll work it out. For a season, for a time. After all, we've got the house. We've got the guest room and it even has a full bath. I said, "Come." Somehow, we'll all learn ... for there's bound to be a lesson here... a growing. So, come, old sister in Christ and let's see what God has for us.

That was yesterday.

Today, she came. In a van-taxi full of stuff. Just like that. She's here now. She's asleep in our guest room in the basement. She's got two broken ribs and arthritis ... but she still has that lovely smile. She talks all the time and yet, her eyes shine. Her hair, once dyed and perfectly coifed, is now white as snow and pulled back in a pony tail. I can remember when she wouldn't go anywhere without full make-up. Now, she barely wears any. And did I mention, she talks all the time? She brought her own toilet paper. What does that mean? She ate two full plates of food. My God. She was hungry.

So, heart. Here's a path you never expected. It's time to slow down. It's time to go back to being the tortoise (and not the hare). Oh, yes, I'm still in the race. It's just not the same race I started in.

What Will It Look Like?

This is a question I have posed a number of times while seeking peace in the midst of a storm. What will peace look like? Or seeking change in a situation of endless sameness. What will change look like? Seeking renewal in a state of redundancy. What will renewal look like? Seeking love in a marriage of 23 years. What will love look like? Seeking healing in a time of pain. What will healing look like? Or feel like? Or taste like? Or sound like?

I don't really know. No one does. And that's the point. Over the years, I've pretty much been up there with the rest of the control freaks ... always looking ahead. I called it "planned spontaneity." But for something to be wholly new, it must be exactly that - new. Only after letting go of what I think "it" should look like, will "it" really manifest. A struggling marriage is not free to become something new if we (or I) keep trying to mold the change.

When I was still in acting school, one of my instructors used to encourage us to "remain in a state of confusion" as long as we could tolerate it... because it was from there that a truly "creative" solution would find life... be born... People are generally too quick to grab on to the first good-sounding answer. God promises that waiting and praying are much more productive... that is, if what you really want is something new. I do.

Family & Holiness

I'm very tired, but I had to share two separate thoughts this day.

1) For our Russian dossier (paperwork, paperwork), we also have to send in pictures of our family (very conservative, it says, no shorts, no tank tops - gadzooks!) and pictures of our home (inside & out) with no dogs (we have two) and no cats (we have three) in evidence. But searching for pictures on the computer took me through so many memories. Pictures of last Christmas and Oma still with us ... then back to Christmas 2003, our first Christmas with Oma in Maryland ... then the day we adopted Winston the Pug ... oops, no dogs. Then, the day the wind annihilated our deck furniture and there was glass everywhere and on and on and more and more. Since I take most of the shots, the "family" pictures are usually some combination of the boys and Oma and Mike. Family. What a powerful word. Hard to find family today without Oma. I just miss her.

2) Sermon was particularly meaningful today. "Hallowed be thy name" was the topic. I did not know that phrase is really a request of God... let your holiness come into this situation and this day and be reflected. Why, I've said that phrase for almost half a century and never knew it was an invitation, even a plea. But I say it with new understanding now. Oh yes, Oh Lord, hallowed be thy name in my heart... today and always. Hallowed be your name in our family.

Personal Story for Healing

Personal Story: it's one of the reasons I'm taking this journey in this way. While finding my voice here at "Refiner's Fire - Emerging Heart" and while I'm creating my healing space (painted all day today), I am also remembering and contemplating where I have been and where this is all going.

Last year I attended a workshop designed by Dr. Dan Allender (Seattle, Washington) on using personal story as a tool in healing the wounded heart. It was a fabulous jump start for me and I know God is directing me to follow along this road for a season. This is part of my healing, my becoming, my emerging self.

And so, I promise, soon, there will be stories here as well as on my new web site (also, in process, like everything else) ... personal stories, yes. But not just my stories, there will be others as well. Stories that capture an essence. Stories that bring a moment back to life. Stories that give voice to pain. Stories that transcend time and give perspective in a new way. Stories that just remember.

Ship Wrecks and Snake Bites

Ship Wrecks and Snake Bites
Friends are joining the journey. I share them with you.

Making a Space for Healing

I'm making a space. My mother's old room... used to be our family room and we renovated it for her. Around the family, I call it the Study. But really, it's a healing space. When my mother moved in, we had to store most of our books. I hope to bring back that library. There has always been something healing in books for me. When I was a child, my home was not a safe place and so I visited the library as often as I could. I remember, one day, pressing my entire body against a shelf of plays. I wanted all the words to pour into my body all at once. It was taking too long to read them one by one.

There will be a desk and a computer, of course, in my healing space. And there will be a place to read... and nap. And talk. There has to be place for sharing with friends, because there is healing in friendships. But even more, sharing with God. There will be an altar space, for that is where there will be discovery.

A Mother's Mantle

My mother died this past January. She was 91. It's a long story and one I'll be working with over the weeks and months to come. But here's what I believe today: when a mother dies, her mantle is passed to one of her children (usually a daughter). Although some might fear this mantle would also carry all those negative, painful things... but that's not what I'm talking about here. Nope. This mantle, more like the multi-colored robe that was given to Joseph, carries the hopes and dreams of the giver and the generations of mothers before her. It's an inheritance. And that is what I feel is upon me, embracing me. Not unlike a treasured ring or other beloved object, but this is more in the supernatural: along with the heart of the mother, it carries the plans that God had for her. The call (see Keeping True...)on her life and perhaps even the call on my grandmother who died when my mother was only a teen or my great grandmother who worked in servitude on an German estate in Lithuania. I sense a walking out of some of these dreams in my generation... in me. It's a time of fulfilling. And I am in awe of the power of it. And what's even more important... I accept this mantle today.

Keeping True to the Gifts of a Calling

A calling. We all have at least one. I know it. Sometimes great, sometimes small, but a call... to do something. To be there. To act.

How is it revealed, this call. Sometimes, we see it through reading of a Word or sometimes it manifests through a desperately difficult circumstance. But it's right there. And God is equipping us to meet the call every day ... every minute ... every life moment. This life, my life, is God's life. This story, my story, is God's story too.

So what is the gift this day? Sometimes the gift is part of the visionary (long-term) and sometimes, it's just part of the day to day.

Today, I was given a revelation/recognition of the demonic. That's a gift. Can you believe it? Why? Because taunts have no power... they are just taunts. They aim to wound, to weaken and to move me from a path. To see the truth is a gift... without that sight, I might cave in. Not today though. I will not turn aside.

We found out today that there is a marriage license after all, but Fulton County, Georgia offices for such things are running 8-10 weeks in backlog. Taunt. Taunt. Buzzing gnats.

My husband & I are called to adopt a girl from Russia. We are called to stand in the gap between the pain of her past and the hope of her future. I will not back away. Father, make a path through this flurry of antagonists.

Grinding by the Little Things

Yesterday, couldn't get into the blog. Well, that's a way to get delayed. Working our paperwork to adopt internationally and the Notary used the wrong dates on all the papers and we have to start over. Requested our marriage license and the county has no record of our marriage. Well, that's interesting after 23 years. Boys had a field trip today and lost their permission slips and the money. Looked up their grades before going back to school after break and one of them has failing grade in every class but gym. Put on a suit today that was so uncomfortable after one hour that I had to rush home to change clothes. That's a start. Praise God from whom all blessings flow. So, who's responsible for all this other stuff?

Heart on Fire

Time is now. Things are changing. I am becoming. I am somehow different than I have ever been before. My world is coming into focus. This is a my heart and it's ready to burn... spirit fire. The fire of God that cleanses, purifies and transforms. This is my time. And so, this blog begins. Life, loves, family, hopes, dreams, and more. I am making that leap. Welcome to my heart.