Rape.

In the spring of 2010, an event was held at my school: Take Back the Night. Take Back the Night exists to raise awareness of sexual violence, to prevent it, and to decrease shame and isolation among survivors.

In my opinion, to work to remove shame and isolation is a holy calling. It is a picture of who God is, and it is His work. He makes broken things into beautiful. That is who He is.

At that point, I had been home about four months from my internship in Bolivia, where I had spent my days (and nights) hanging out in a group home with fifteen beautiful, hyper, joyful, crazy girls. Beautiful girls who had been hurt, objectified, made to serve others' evil whims, abused, raped. Adrienne, the president of the club organizing the event and a good friend, asked me if I would speak. I prepared and gave a short talk on a few themes of what I had learned: on our calling to watch out for those who are utterly unprotected; on redeeming physical touch.

An important part of the night is an open mike time, where people can step forward and share their stories. Of being hurt, of being objectified, made to serve others' evil whims, abused, raped. It is a safe space, and after each story is finished, together we all shout, "THAT'S NOT OKAY".

My clearest memory from that night, though, is not my talk, and it's not the open mike time. My clearest memory from that night is an upsetting one. It's not a bad memory, exactly. But it was jarringly painful to me when it happened and has been every time I've remembered it since- which, to be honest, has been often.

I walked away from campus after the program with one of my most beloved and respected friends. It had meant a lot to me that she had come, in the middle of the week in a busy semester; I knew it had been mostly because I was speaking and she wanted to support me.

We walked in the dark together, both silent. And then, after a few minutes, she told me that before that night she had not known that it is always not okay.

I do not have words to convey how much I love this girl, or how much I respect her. That day, and today, and every day in between. She has a heart which is more kind and humble than almost any I know. And, perhaps in large part because of my deep love and respect for her, I also cannot put into words how painful that statement was to hear.

The point of this isn't to share anger or shock or even pain. The take away from that interaction was that her information and therefore her opinion had changed. That is exactly the hope and the purpose of Take Back the Night. And, further proving my opinion of her, her life changed- immediately. As in, she went straight to her computer and wrote a letter to a friend conveying compassion.

I don't think I ever thought it was okay. But without Bolivia, would I know?

It is horrifying to me that there could ever, ever, ever be a question in our minds or a bit of indifference in our hearts about beautiful, beloved, image-of-God bodies and souls, and the protection they deserve.

I don't know everyone who reads this blog. I don't know your stories and I don't know if you think it might sometimes be a little bit okay. I don't know if you've ever had someone tell you that it was okay. It is not okay.

Removing shame and isolation is who He is.

(on prostitution.)

Perfect poem for the start of the week.

"Hello, sun in my face.

Hello, you who made the morning

and spread it over the fields

and into the faces of the tulips

and the nodding morning glories

and into the windows of, even, the

miserable and the crotchety-

best preacher that ever was, dear star,

that just happens

to be where you are in the universe,

to keep us from ever-darkness,

to ease us with warm touching,

to hold us in the great hands of light-

good morning, good morning, good morning.

Watch, now, how I start the day,

in happiness, in kindness."

-Mary Oliver,

"Why I Wake Early"

(This poem first shared with me

by these beautiful girls.)

Perfect prayer for this morning.

"Help me to find my happiness

in my acceptance

of what is Your purpose for me:

in friendly eyes, in work well done,

in quietness born of trust,

and, most of all,

in the awareness of Your presence

in my spirit.

(Pause for reflection before resuming your activity.)"

-cdp

.Community Dinner goes outside.

 

Thursday nights we take turns cooking

and get to eat and connect.

The rule is "no guilt no stress".

If it's breakfast for dinner, then it's breakfast for dinner.

If it's quick bc we all have a paper the next day,

then it's quick.

If we're running late, then we're late (I love that rule).

But sharing a meal and making sure we stop

to be together and enjoy each other

has become an anchor in my week...

and one of my favorite ones.

I love my friends,

I love where we live,

and I love enjoying slow simple joys like:

easy food, happy babies, pretty trees, time together.

 

 

 

(Fun to see how this friendship has grown in eight months.)

.how could the grass possibly be greener on the other side?.

There's a Mary in my house!!!

 Thank GOD.

Oh, I just love this girl sooo freakin' much.

Look! It's Mary! In my room!

I like this one of her doing art. IN MY ROOM! Because she's here! In Oregon!

She's designing the front cover for Robby's middle-schoolers' spring band concert. CUTE, huh?

As the story goes,

we were such cute and close best friends in high school

that her mom said,

"Aw, you know, when you two are grown-up and married,

you'll just have to buy a duplex you can live in together."

We agreed that would be a great situation, except,

"...But won't the boys be lonely on their side?"

Well, there is something sparkly on her left hand as of a few weeks ago...

and what with my whole moving across the country thing,

it looks as though she and Robby may have to weather through the first year of marriage without me living with them.

Sorry, guys.

Robby, dry your tears. You can make it. :-)

(Click on the link on his name. The website opened:

Me: Look at that picture!

Mayr: I KNOW! What a stud, right?

I think it's good they're getting married.)

The traditional bosom friend photo spree goes west-coast. Sooo thankful for this beautiful girl.

 

.remembering and convicted by this prayer the last couple days.

"'Approach My table, asking first that you might serve'...
O King and Saviour, what is Thy gift to me?
And do I use it to Thy pleasing?"

-Hild of Whitby,
"In the right place"

Book.

 My beloved favorite prayer book has been showing its use recently. You can see the progression here...
 

 Shiny and new in my room at Matt and Amy's in 2008. (Aw! Hi, Hannah as a toddler!)

 Senior year, at Honey Rock right after getting back from HNGR. Showing some scars.

 Small group retreat last year. Starting to look significantly worse for the wear.

(I did not chronicle this on purpose. It was just in random photos. I'm not that obsessed.)

Lately it had reached fairly tragic proportions!!

I frequently feel a desperate need to do something non-academic and physically beautiful after a week of textbooks (much as I do love them). So with an hour, some fabric scraps, silk ribbon, and good glue...

 

Holler! A bound book. It no longer falls apart when I try to read it... and it's pretty. (Theology side note, you don't have to have a pretty prayer book to pray. Or a prayer book at all, in fact.)

I am way over-excited about this. May have held it up to show my entire cohort before leading a devotional the other day.

Amy Grace, friendship, adulthood, and hard things.

A couple of weeks ago, I spent three days in San Diego with Ames. We went for walks and ate out at restaurants and spent too much at upscale California thrift stores. We cuddled her sweet baby nephew who she nannies for and stayed up late in sweatpants watching Friends and How I Met Your Mother.

We talked about her dad some, but not a lot. More we talked about her husband of seven months, and what a blessing he is, and how much she loves becoming his wife. About what a gift it is right now to spend her days with her sister and her family and to come home to James at night. We talked about my settling into life in Oregon, how well the rhythm suits me and how in love I am with my studies and community.

It would be easy to try to draw a million poignant points from being with this freshman-roommate of mine, two weeks after her dad died. About walking together in this season, after seasons we shared where our tears were over 18-year-old boys and overwhelming term papers.

Honestly, though? That fact doesn't feel glamorous in any way that made me excited to write a blog post. It just feels sad. I'm so sad her good dad had cancer, and I'm so sad he died, and I am so sad Amy and her mom and her sisters and their husbands and babies have to miss him these years until heaven. I'm proud of them and the faith and praise they choose. I'm grateful for that sassy and beautiful girl and our friendship, and for all she teaches me, and for what I hope I can give to her.

As we walked and laughed and shopped and vegged and were basically just together, I thought a lot about how my understanding of adult life has evolved in the last couple of years. I think I used to think that hard things ended at some point; that we'd "arrive", and at that point pain would be the anomaly, the strange and sucky event to get through before returning to the baseline of Normal: Easy and Great. That seems less and less true. Life is so beautiful and joyful and good, but it is really hard. It doesn't make me love adult life less, but it makes me engage in it differently; it makes me re-think what my hopes and goals are of how to live this life and walk out faith and love well.

I've been re-writing this for a couple of hours now, and I don't really have any great conclusions.

I am grateful for our crazy God, who doesn't take the pain away, for reasons I still don't understand and still rail against... but who in His upside-down-kingdom way, abides with us and never lets us do it alone.

I'm grateful for reminders that this beautiful and good world, still, is not our home. I pray those gaps of felt home-less-ness, will lead us to long for Him and His fullness.

I'm grateful for the friends we're given to walk with.

In San Diego last month. Some hott grown-up girl with a pixie hair cut.

**********************

Fall 2006

Spring 2010

Fall 2011

And He is full of grace.

"And He is full of grace.

Ah! had He not been, I should never have been saved.

He drew me when I struggled to escape from His grace;

and when at last I came all trembling like a condemned culprit to His mercy-seat,

He said, ‘Thy sins which are many are all forgiven thee: be of good cheer.'

And He is full of truth.
True have His promises been, not one has failed.

I bear witness that never servant had such a master as I have;

never brother such a kinsman as He has been to me;

never spouse such a Husband as Christ has been to my soul;

never sinner a better Saviour;

never mourner a better comforter

than Christ hath been to my spirit.
I want none beside Him.

In life He is my life,

and in death He shall be the death of death;

in poverty Christ is my riches;

in sickness He makes my bed;

in darkness He is my star,

and in brightness He is my sun;

He is the manna of the camp in the wilderness,

and He shall be the new corn of the host when they come to Canaan.

Jesus is to me all grace and no wrath, all truth and no falsehood:

and of truth and grace He is full, infinitely full.

My soul, this night, bless with all thy might ‘the only Begotten.’”

-charles spurgeon

we shall see this quote posted again.

(a purpose of this blog for me is to preach to myself.

"i want none beside Him"; let it be so.)

Four-page, hand-written, internationally-mailed letter from a dear friend waiting for me when I got home.

"...I remember going with you to your office in West Chicago last year where you told me about how your first lunches there consisted of whole cucumbers, which you imagined your coworkers watched you eat with raised eyebrows. Isn't it weird that we've almost reached the midpoint of our twenties? Adult life is supposed to be well underway now. I suppose it is- a reality, in the same way Bonhoeffer says the Church is a reality. We just need to see it as such, and live it...

...Between the last paragraph and now, I went out to dinner with my friends, watched Grosse Pointe Blank with them, went for a midnight walk with one of them, and went to bed. And while I slept I had a dream that you were in! It was a good dream but I don't really remember much of the content. Maybe we were living in a treetop community, forty feet above a forest floor? It was amazing.

It's raining now... in Belgium we get a lot of rain. It will rain every day this week. I look forward to drinking a lot of tea and watching it out our window. The sun just came out, and it's still raining. I guess even the sun is powerless to stop it sometimes?...

...I finish this letter with a prayer for you, that today you will be consciously blessed and made aware of a single aspect of the love of God for you, which is beyond measure.

Your grateful friend,

Marty"

So lucky, me.

.10,000 reasons for my heart to find.

Will I ever ever ever understand why I get these kinds of friends in my life??

Such a sweet week.

"...for all Your goodness i will keep on singing

10,000 reasons for my heart to find..."

That song's been on repeat for me this month. Looking at these faces I love so much, I gave up keeping count. 10,000 sounds about right.

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