.lent.

Grateful for what Rez and being in an Anglican community

taught me about living in the liturgical seasons.

Missing that community this season,

and grateful to be walking out Lent

in the midst of this one.

"The Lenten season begins.

It is a time to be with You

in a special way,

a time to pray,

to fast,

and thus to follow You

on Your way to Jerusalem,

to Golgotha,

and to the final victory over death...

Help me become deaf to the voices of my own desires

and more attentive

to Your voice,

which calls me to choose the narrow road to life...

give me the strength and courage

to live this season faithfully.

Faithful God,

trusting in You,

we begin the 40 days of conversion and penance."

-Henri Nouwen,

from Show Me The Way: Daily Lenten Readings

.He, watching over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps.

The "little girls" wanted to have a sleepover at my house last night...

At 5 am, in the quiet darkness, a panicked, sleepy voice:

"Emily!!!"

I woke, found the voice and its accompanying curled up body across the room,

"Sweetheart, I'm right here. Are you ok?"

"No. My stomach hurts."

"I'm sorry." I rubbed her back. "Can I get you some water?"

"No, I'm okay."

"...Do you think you need to go home?"

"No way!"

Umm... "Okay. I'm sorry you don't feel good."

"It's okay."

Back to sleep.

Fifteen minutes later,

"EMILY!!!"

"What's wrong, babe?"

"My stomach really hurts."

More back rubbing. More soothing voice.

"Are you going to throw up?"

"No."

"...Do you want water? Or some medicine?"

"No."

...

"Can I... do anything for you?"

"Nope."

So I'm thinking,

...Why are you telling me?

Not because I was annoyed- I had told the girls to wake me.

But I was truly confused.

She didn't want water.

She didn't want medicine.

She didn't want to go home.

She wasn't particularly upset.

I sat with her and held her hand for a few minutes. She rolled over and seemed fine.

She just needed to know that somebody was awake and aware.

Almost two years ago now, one morning at Rez, I tore lyrics out of a church bulletin and stuck them in my Bible.

They're still there, tucked in the pages of the psalms...

I just need to know that He's awake and aware.

...He who keeps you will not slumber.

Behold, He who keeps Israel

will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper.

-psalm 121.3-5-

Sweet comfort.

A reflection on 2010-2011.

In two days I will have lived in Oregon for exactly one year.

I've been pondering how to explain what these last twelve months have been for me.

As I collect my thoughts and heart on the past year, it is good to reflect also where I was roughly this same time the last two years...

This was written in May 2011, as I finished my job as a caseworker/home visitor for immigrant families with 0-3 year olds, wrapped up my year of living with Ryan and Kendra a mile from my college campus, and said goodbye to my church, friends, and five years of history in Wheaton.

The tree outside my window at work has full, green leaves on it.
A few weeks ago, I saw it budding.
The last time it looked like that... I saw it, too. Looking out of the same window.

I have now spent twelve full months in one place. For the last... ok, not 365 days technically, but over 350, which I say counts- days, I have slept in the same bed. I get up every morning and drive to the same job. And there every day I blessedly, wonderfully, do... the same thing I have done for the last. twelve. months.

The trees were just budding when I started there. As they were wide and green all spring and summer long, I drove down Roosevelt into West Chicago and did my paperwork and got to know my families. Through the humid summer, I ran on this prairie path, got frappuccinos at this Starbucks, finger-painted with my kids outside on the grass. This whole fall, I was here, carving pumpkins (three times, in fact, because I didn't have a fall my HNGR year and I was absolutely maximizing this one!!), going apple picking (twice- see what I mean?), taking long walks alone among the leaves. They changed and fell and it snowed and I walked in that too, and then I got sick of walking in it and watched it from inside, and drank hot chocolate with my roommates and decorated our Christmas tree. It kept snowing. I held a Valentine's craft party and walked on a frozen lake with my small group, my kids made cotton ball snowmen and we sang about spring coming. I dared to slowwllyy shed first the down jacket, then the jacket, and now, finally, the sweaters. I am in short sleeves and flip flops and swingy skirts and I meet friends by the lake behind Rez multiple times a week to sprawl on the grass as we chat in the sunshine. This week my babies and moms and I took walks and pointed out the colors of the flowers.

I have had a year of serving Eucharist at church on Sunday mornings. I've had a year of doing life with my small group every Sunday night. I've had a year of journaling in the same coffee shops I journaled in in college. I've had 52 weeks of coffee heart-to-hearts with Tamara, of family dinners with Ryan and Kendra, of running with Meghan and pre-work breakfasts with Chet. 52 weeks of Christine and Steve and Elise, of Rez and Iglesia and my ten beautiful families.

Jana asked me on a Saga date mid-last semester, "What are your non-negotiables?". We were all weighing so many things as we tried to figure out where we'd be post-graduation- job opportunities, relationships, adventure, finances... What were going to be my deciding factors?

I needed to be in one place. I needed to have four full seasons in one place- in a familiar place. I didn't know why. I just knew I did.

Seeing that tree, I realized I saw it go through its entire life cycle this year. It grew its leaves and lost them and stood bare and grew them again and now here they are. Again. I saw all of it. I saw Wheaton, I saw my families, I saw the same friends, through twelve whole months. Through one entire rotation of the earth around the sun, I was here, doing a few tasks and loving the same people.

Written down this sounds really obvious and not that exciting. And I know that after college, this becomes the norm- most likely in the not-distant future, I'll spend two, five, ten or twenty!, full years in the same place with the same people.

But this first year of it since high school, and especially the year after HNGR and cancer, I'm so grateful. This world turned all by itself as I walked the same streets and loved the same people and focused on my simple work. The seasons changed as I healed and, somehow, that let me just be.

And I am so grateful for that.

"...Summer and winter and springtime and harvest

Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above

Join with all nature in manifold witness

To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love."

The tree outside my office, mid-October 2010.

On Psalm 95.

"Oh come, let us sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. In His hand are the depths of the earth; the heights of the mountains are His also. For He is our God, and we are the people of His pasture, and the sheep of His hand. Today, if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts, as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness, when your fathers put Me to the test and put Me to the proof, though they had seen Me work."  (Psalm 95:1, 3-4, 7-8)

That psalm is prayed every day in the church liturgy. Of all the psalms, when the church fathers chose what to include, what they thought we need to hear and pray daily, they chose that one. Why?

I first heard that question explored at a service at Rez last winter. I remember how Justin showed the place where the voice in the Scripture changes: from about God, to God speaking. Up through verse seven we are speaking of God, but at verse eight, He speaks to us:


"...on the day at Massah, when your fathers put me to the test and put me to the proof, though they had seen me work."

That's a reference to Exodus 17. Verse 7 tells us exactly what God is referring to here, what happened at Meribah and Massah. Moses had just led the Israelites out of Egypt, into freedom...


"[Moses] called the place Massah and Meribah (testing and quarrelling), because the Israelites quarreled and because they tested the Lord saying, 'Is the Lord among us or not?'".

I was literally breathtaken as I read the words of that psalm, the one the church fathers decided out of a hundred and fifty psalms we need to read every day. Breathtaken with conviction as I saw spelled out, by the Israelites, exactly the question my mind and heart wonder so often.


Is the Lord among us or not.

Is God really guiding this decision I have to make... or not.
Did God see my girls... or not.
Was He with them... or not.
Is any work occurring in my heart... or not.
Am I changing and growing... or not.
Did that conversation happen for a reason... or not.
Does He know how she's hurting?
Is He working in his struggle?
Could my flaws and failures screw everything up?
Does good really come from pain?
Did You know that was going to happen?


Are You among us, or not?

Awareness of that question in my heart has changed my prayers since hearing that sermon.
My prayers in fear; my prayers in uncertainty; my prayers in the various new seasons of the last year; my anguished prayers, still, looking at sweet girls whose lives seem so unfair to me.

I don't have answers. I don't like pain. I hate what those girls- what everyone who's known real suffering- have gone through. I still have very little understanding how the whole our-decisions-affect-our-lives vs. God-is-sovereign-and-guiding thing works.

But I have 'seen Him work', and I know that He is among us.


I may not know what You're doing, God.
I may not understand the balance of Your will and my decisions.
I may not like what You're doing,
and sometimes I may not see if You're 'doing' anything at all.
But, when I ask that question, I can answer: yes.
Whatever it is that You're doing-
yes, You are here. You are among us.

Made. my. day.

Just got this email from a close friend from Rez, about a conversation with her 4-year-old.

"Emily,

Just saw a picture of you from this summer's Bolivia trip on the Wheaton homepage!  This reminded me that I wanted  to tell you something cute A. did a week or two ago.  She's in pre-K now and they have a devotional and prayer time each morning.  A. informed me one day that she had prayed for Miss Emily during this time, "since she's moving far away and that's sad".  I was so surprised because we hadn't talked about you recently.  So I chalk it up to the Holy Spirit.  

Just thought you'd feel loved by that!!

Hope the transition to new school, new home, new church, new friends, etc is going well."

Have I mentioned I love my babies?
Also, why is my life so wonderful.

Also, I miss my Wheaton community.

A gift in this year: Beth.

That cute girl front and center there, that one in the green shirt posing? That'd be her.

Oh Bethany Joy Hiltibran.

Beth with Miss Katie. I heart the Hiltibran girls.

Beth and I this year...

spent a lot of time together at Starbucks.
And Target.

And Denny's.

...and the Starbucks in Target (how convenient!!).

I love her a lot, and I am so grateful for her presence in my life this year.

Beth is the younger sister of my dear friend Matt, who is virtual family. So naturally when Beth showed up for her freshman year at Wheaton, I assumed that meant she would want to hang out with me all of the time.

I'm still not completely sure how she felt about that plan (particularly the first week when she was moving in and I basically kept introducing myself to her new friends?! Sorry babe)... but I'm very grateful she went along with it.

I'm grateful for her sass and sense of humor. This girl makes me laugh. One intentionally raised eyebrow and she can make a point get across quite clearly.

I'm grateful for the maturity so evident in her as I got to hear her process some of her thoughts about life, faith, friends, leaving home and starting college.
I'm grateful for her servant's heart- she's babysitting a family in her mission's kids all summer as they work at a missions conference.

I'm grateful for the unique perspective growing up as an MK in Europe has given her and how she's used it to engage in life deeply.

Actually, as I think on that sentence- I'm grateful just for her unique perspective in general. Beth is unique. She is a strong person, has a deep love for the people in her life, gets nuance and subtext in life, and has a deep and real faith. Often talking to her I learned things or got a perspective on a situation I couldn't have gotten from anyone else.

I am so grateful I got to be a part of her freshman year. The first year of college is such an exciting time. I loved getting to see that with her and be a part of it.
It was so much fun to watch her friendships and life at Wheaton develop.
And I am SO proud of how she engaged here. (So, so, so. Seriously. She did awesome.)

I'm thankful for how much she encouraged me.

(I'm really sick of putting that I'm grateful for people listening to me patiently while I freak out about things, but) I am grateful for this girl and how she did that. She was patient and thoughtful and non-judgmental and it rocked.

She became a real friend to listen to and talk through things with and I loved it. I'm grateful for any chance I got to hear her thoughts.

(I love frequent friendships. You think you're just running to Target to pick up shampoo and a cute shirt, and all of a sudden you're spilling your guts.)

I'm grateful for all our many coffee dates and shopping dates. They were my favorite.

I'm so, so grateful we went to church together every week. Seriously. I loved going with her, Tim, and our buddy Jeremy. It was consistent and safe and joyful and meaningful and I missed it terribly the weeks they were on breaks!! I loved driving them (...I'm sorry I was always late, guys... really... I am.) I loved sitting together and taking Communion together. I love that we had that routine and those memories.

The Hiltibran clan on my deck last summer.

I'm also thankful for what my friendship with Beth represents. I really love friends that become family. (I may not give people a choice on the matter, but still). My friendship with Matt has been one of the deepest and most impactful I've had ever, and one of the things I love about it is the way it has spilled into other relationships. It felt like the most natural thing in the world that I would spend a lot of time with Beth this year; and, it was. It was obvious. I love that I worshiped on Sundays with Beth and Tim. I love that we celebrated birthdays and Easter together. I love that I got to hear them process stuff and that Beth stayed with me when her flight got delayed (that poor girl... it's a long story) and that Matt lived in the Ramsings' basement last fall and that their parents take me out to dinner when they come to visit whether Matt's there or not (Story- we go to Egglectic for Easter lunch- Beth: "Oh, I've been here before. We came on family weekend." Me: "We did? When? I don't remember that." Beth: "Not with my family- my roommate's parents took us out." Me: "Oh, okay... um, because obviously I would have been there and all...") I love the extra people we get to pray for and be prayed for by and love. True friendship like that is such a gift.

At brunch on Easter Sunday.

And this fun girl, specifically, was a gift to me in this year.

And I am going to miss her a ton this fall.

 Thanking God for giving me Beth this year.

.10.

A gift in this year: Spiritual Direction.

 
 I told her to look "spiritual director-ish".

This is Lisa. She is my spiritual director. She has red hair and a nose piercing and wears long dangly earrings and laughs a lot and prays all the time. So clearly she is epically wonderful to rock star proportions.

What, you may ask, is a 'spiritual director'?

I'm sure it varies from person to person, but I just googled around and liked these two quotes:

"The spiritual director is one who, by virtue of personal holiness and spiritual maturity, helps the directee to pay attention to the presence and work of God in her or his life." 

and

"Spiritual direction is a time-honored term for a conversation, ordinarily between two persons, in which one person consults another, more spiritually experienced person about the ways in which God may be touching her or his life, directly or indirectly. In our postmodern age, many people dislike the term "spiritual direction" because it sounds like one person giving directions, or orders, to another. They prefer "spiritual companionship," "tending the holy," or some other nomenclature. What we call it doesn't make any real difference. The reality remains conversations about life in the light of faith."

(Interesting context is that apparently a typical demographic seeking spiritual directors these days are middle-aged women wondering what to do when their kids have left home. ...And she got me post-HNGR. Sorry, friend.)

It's different from mentorship in that we didn't "do life" together. We hug and we chat when we see each other at church and I know a decent amount about her life. But when we met it was focused on my spiritual life, not a mutual relationship- similar to a counselor in that way. And she rarely gave straight up advice (although I generally have to beat that out of my mentors anyway. Unlesss it comes to what state they think I should live in... hmm who might I be speaking to??...).

 Generally to start, she'd just ask me what I'd been praying or thinking about this month.
I'd pull out my journal for reference  and vent about whatever'd been on my heart, while she nodded and looked empathetic (or laughed, depending on the source of my venting).

 Then I would pause for breath and look at her...
and we'd have a conversation that typically went like this:

Me: Sooo... what do you think?
Lisa: What do I think?
Me: Right. I mean... so, that's what's up! So... spiritually direct me! Ready set go!
Lisa: (laughs)

So annoying.

And then. She'd shrug, and smile... and ask me what I sensed God telling me.

And I don't know what was so magic about her asking me that. Because, it's not like I couldn't ask myself the same question. But for some reason every time she did ask me, I'd stop and actually... you know... think about it.

Honestly, sometimes, I told her that I had absolutely no idea, and that was fine.
But a good amount of the time, when I sat and was quiet and listened... Usually, I would start noticing things in my heart. Whispers I'd heard. Just... themes, of things. I don't know how to explain it?

Deep down- not always, but sometimes- I do know His voice.
The funny thing is, the things He says are usually way smaller and less exciting and directive than what I want Him to be saying. So I half-notice them... and push on in my anxiety, or impatience for a Big Revelation, or dissatisfaction with His words.

Spiritual direction didn't let me do that.

It gave me a space and accountability, to notice the whispers.

 I'm so grateful for that.

I'm grateful for who Lisa is. She exudes wisdom, compassion, and humor- not just haha humor, but humor as defined by Anne of Green Gables... "just another word for a sense of the fitness of things".

I'm grateful for the fact that she has the kind of wisdom and prayerful spirit that only comes from living through suffering. When I was looking for a spiritual director, a few months after I returned from Bolivia, I knew I needed someone who would not try to give easy answers to my girls' stories. I needed to rebuild my world and my theology in a way that had room for a good and sovereign God, and for what had happened to them without silver-lining it. Lisa can do that. She lives with open hands, to joy and to pain. She is hopeful and believes in redemption; but she acknowledges that this world is fallen and not our home. She has asked and lived incredibly hard questions and built her faith through years of hard work. Knowing and working with her coming from that perspective, was such an incredible gift to me. (Side note- on the one hand it is awesome that so many women I admire and pray to be like tend to have this quality... and the other hand, um, well that's terrifying... :-P)

I'm grateful for the space spiritual direction was- a chance to explore the hard and scary places with God, without having to worry about putting extra burdens on my close friends (who did such a fantastic job of loving me that HNGR-and-cancer year).

 I'm grateful, as I am with Rez in general, for the example I saw of someone who believes in a good God while engaging in lament. Oh how that taught me and gave me hope.

 I'm grateful for what I learned from her about prayer. She prays. All the time. And the way she prays is weird, and contemplative, and wordless, and in connection with Jesus, and clearly where she draws her strength from. And it makes sense to me in some deep-down way and I pray often that God will develop that kind of a heart in me.

 I'm grateful that usually if I cried, she would too. "What, why are YOU crying?". "I don't know. I'm just praying. You can keep talking." (That sounds super emo. Usually we would both be laughing in that exchange).

I'm grateful for her prayers for me- part of spiritual direction is committing to the pray for the directee. She prayed for me like crazy. It was nuts.

I'm grateful that I felt completely comfortable in that setting. She was SUCH a good fit for me in that role and that was so crucial in a really vulnerable spiritual season for me. I don't say this lightly- I could really see God's hand in us being matched up.

I'm grateful for the ways that she affirmed me to connect with God as He made me to be. A lot of times she would point out patterns in how I was drawn to pray and where she saw me sounding like I felt the most peaceful and connected to God. That was super helpful for me in giving myself permission to "pray as I can" and try more to serve Him with the gifts He's given me.

I'm grateful for her insights. I know she tried to balance keeping her own life out of it and pointing me towards the Spirit, but whenever she would share from her own relationship with God and how she had processed similar places I learned so much.

I'm grateful for where I feel like I am with God now- which these conversations had a big part in.

A few examples which show why I loved spiritual direction so much (I went through my journal from the last few months and found some quotes):

...Once after I SUPER vented-
Lisa: Oookay. Well... why don't we pause to pray...
Me: Am I overwhelming you?
Lisa: Umm... nooo... but... I feel like you could use a spiritual deep breath for a minute.

...Once while interacting with Lisa and her husband, I was kind of hyper-
"See, this is what your wife had to put up with all the time. This is what spiritual direction sessions with me looked like... Well, that and crying and cursing."
John laughed. Lisa just chuckled, and said, under her breath but not quietly,
"Oh-ho, and not necessarily in that order either...".

..."What is the Lord calling you to be faithful in today? Just today."

..."I don't expect life to be anything other than a mixture of fallen and redeemed."

..."Lord, show me Your perspective."

 ..."Lord, we pray that in this season You would increase Emily's capacity for joy." I had forgotten she'd prayed that until I found it written down several months later. I believe it has been answered and it's a prayer I'm continuing to pray, and so grateful for.

...Lisa: Okay, Emily, I have a question- do you feel connected with the word 'centered'?
Me: Mm... what do you mean by connected?
Lisa: Like... does that, hit anything deep for you?
Me: I mean... I like being centered...
Lisa: What about... 'rest'?
Me: (blank stare)
Lisa: Just, what word, if you hear it, makes you feel that you are good with God. That you and He are where you want. How about 'peace'...
Me: Open communication.
She laughed so hard she started tearing up.
Lisa: Of course. Oooffff course.

...Once after hearing me freak one more time about the whole good-God-horrible-things paradox, she (incredibly tentatively and compassionately) asked if I knew anything about physics.
"No...?"
She then explained string theory to me... the idea that two ideas can seem to contradict each other yet are mutually true. Because there are is a gap law no scientist has discovered yet.
She acted like she felt so silly using that as an example, but for some reason it was one of the first ways I'd heard that put that I felt like I could sort of hold it.


...

Recently, in the car on the way to meet with her, I was thinking about what I would talk about. I had been turning a certain situation in my head over and over for days and was super stressed about it. And I was feeling like I was definitely dishonoring God in this. I was not being trusting. I was stressed and distracted and it was bad, and so I was going to talk with her about how to turn my focus onto other things.

"Mmm. So... what do you sense the Holy Spirit telling you?"

Um. I mean. The trust thing, right? And the selfish thing?

She waited. And I thought about it. I thought about on my lunch break that day, when I had gone to the armchair by the big picture window in the West Chicago library and stared out at the trees before God. What had I sensed, really, if I thought about it?

"I guess... well, this doesn't seem to really have much to do with the situation."

"That's okay."

"Well...  I guess when I was praying today... the only sense I really had from God,

was that He was glad I was telling Him that I was sad."

She grinned. "That sounds good."

Um? "...What sounds good?"

"What you just said. That God's calling you to be sad with Him."

"...It does?"

"It doesn't do any good to not be who you are in front of Him."

...And that was what she said. I had fully expected for her to give me some verses to look up on trusting God in the face of anxiety, or something. And we talked about trust, but it was never in a condemning or shaming voice. It was always to guide me to the Voice I already knew, was already hearing, needing to listen to. She wasn't trying to guide me to a particular conclusion; she just wanted to tune me in to Him.

So grateful for that.

 Thanking God for giving me spiritual direction this year.

.12.

A gift in this year: Serving Eucharist.

"Take this in remembrance that Christ died for you,

and feed on Him in your hearts by faith, with thanksgiving."

"The body of Christ, the bread of heaven."

"Amen."

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

"Amen."

I pick up my tray, check on the sheet which aisle I am assigned to, walk over and take my place.

There I stand as they file down. Parents with their children, a baby on one hip and a toddler or two in tow. Young adults, and elderly couples who hold each other's shaking hands as they walk down the aisle. Little girls in twirly dresses with matching headbands, skipping more than they walk. Fellow Wheaton grads sitting together in groups. Faces I recognize, faces I don't. They file down. They pause at the deacon, take the bread. They stop and take the wine from the chalice, or they come to me.

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

"Amen."

I don't always make eye contact- I wait. I remember what Nancy, the Eucharist ministry coordinator and one of my favorite people, says about how she serves it- she takes a step back, leaving them room to meet with God, but she prays for them as they drink. I pray for each one of them- specifics if I know them. I pray "Lord, bless her today", "Bless him", as they tip it, drink and walk on. I affirm His love for them as best I can for that moment they are in front of me, meeting Him.

Meeting Him.

I get to watch them as they meet Him.

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

"Amen."

"What we... must realize, is that all our intellectual articulations about this sacrament are but feeble human attempts to comprehend the basic mystery of God's unconditional loving acceptance of us, His children."

 The mystery is unfolding in front of me.

Every week, as I stand there, it is not just balancing the tray and timing the saying and checking to make sure I have enough cups for the people in line. It is those things, but I am seeing the mystery. I am standing in front of the mystery.

"On the night He was handed over to suffering and death, our Lord Jesus Christ took bread; and when He had given thanks to You, He broke it, and gave it to His disciples, and said, “Take, eat: This is My Body, which is given for you. Do this for the remembrance of Me."

It is acceptance by Him. It is intimacy with Him, unconditional on how we feel or what we say.

It is His body, given to us.

Sometimes they're crying as they take it. Not infrequently. Oh, do I long and pray for the ones who cry; and my heart swells with wanting to offer them comfort- but more it swells with hope that they are receiving it... and with gratitude and awe that the meaning of this cup, can bring them to tears.

I love when they do look into my eyes, and I get to smile into theirs as they drink.

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

I always try to pick up the tray instead of the chalice because it holds the non-alcoholic wine and I love serving the children. They come, too. The babies, even, and I love watching their parents hold the cup to their lips and minister this living grace to them. I love praying for those babies and their sweet lives the Lord is at work in, as they drink it, too.

I love the toddlers who pick it up all by themselves, so proudly. I squat down to serve it to them, and I say the words to them, too, just the same.

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

"Say 'Amen', buddy!"

"Aaa-mennnn!"

I'm not sure I'm supposed to, but usually I whisper, "Good job!" as they carefully put the empty cup back.

I love when it's someone I know. We don't act differently, because we are all there as one family. But oh, how special it is to get to participate in that moment, that mystery, with someone I love deeply, whose life I get to share.

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation..."- I'm so grateful to get to say it to them.

"Amen."

 "The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

"The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

Over and over and over I say it, as they file down, as they take it, as they receive and as they meet Him. Over and over I get to see the mystery. Over and over I get to affirm His love and His work in them. Over and over I get to speak words that enter and comfort my heart, that are truth.

I am so grateful God gave me the great gift of serving Eucharist at Rez this year.

"Eternal God, Heavenly Father, You have graciously accepted us as living members of Your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ;

and You have fed us with spiritual food through the Sacrament of His body and blood."

Thanking God for giving me the chance to serve communion this year.

.13.

A gift in this year: Meredith.

 

"We cannot tell the precise moment a friendship is formed.

As in filling a vessel drop by drop there is at last one which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over."

-James Boswell

Girlfriends are basically my favorite thing. And I have a lot of them. I have a lot of awesome ones.

But there have only been a very few of this particular type. Where someone is completely not in my life one week... and then somehow we end up sitting down and having a real conversation. And maybe it takes one more coffee date.. but by the next week, I just know they are going to be in my life, in a deep way, for a long, long time.

And there are all of a sudden text messages, and secrets, and needing-to-tell-each-other-things, and if I stop to actually count length-of-time-of-friendship it's bizarre to me how short it is. Because they are in my heart in a way where it just feels silly and completely ridiculous to even imagine what it would be like without them.

That happened with Mere this year. And it has been such a gift.

This is just some boy she found lying around in the park...

A little bit of the context for our friendship... most of the fall, though I was soaking in beautiful friendships and community in many ways, I was Very Very Dedicated to not having "a person". It's a long story (and will be another post soon). But I basically was very sure that I had heard from God that I needed to be in a season of more intentional solitude- not just in terms of physical space but emotional, too. And the way the fall unrolled, this was not particularly difficult to achieve.

But around Christmas, I started, well, pretty much yearning for some closer, more daily friendships.

("But I'm supposed to be lonely right now!! I'm supposed to only have Jesus be my Best Friend!!!!")

Around the same time, I was assigned to a Rez prayer group- the same one as Meredith. We had mutual friends so I knew she was great. But I decided I didn't have time to do it since I was already meeting with two small groups. It was a good decision, but Steve moaned when he heard she'd been assigned to mine.

"But you have to be friends with MEREDITH MALONY!!!! That would have been PERFECT!!!! Do you KNOW her?? She's AMAZING!!!! And you guys would have been SO WONDERFUL for each other!!!"

But... I couldn't do the group! But bummer, because she did seem cool.

Long story (notthat)short, when I was in Maryland over Christmas break I had some helpful and insightful conversations with wise friends. They spoke into my life in a lot of ways, including the areas of community, and solitude, and the decision I'd made to intentionally not pursue closer friendships for a few months. And they encouraged me that maybe I had learned what God had wanted to teach me in that season, and it was okay if I felt ready to move out of it.

And that happened to coincide with when Mere happened. We ran into each other at the Rez volunteer breakfast, and sat down with our paper plates to chat. We looked up an hour later and everyone else had left- we were sitting on the only two folding chairs still out in the middle of the almost-completely-empty auditorium.

She put it recently as "God answering prayers we didn't know we were praying". I'd agree with that statement.

I am so grateful for the gifts of this girl and this friendship.

I'm grateful for how it happened... the existence of our friendship and its formation taught me much about His character this year. My friendship with Meredith, and its timing, is a sign to me of God's intentionality, of His knowledge of what we need, of His "delighting in doing good" to us. Those were lessons I needed- need- to learn. (And really, could you think of a lovelier way for Him to show them to me?!). I'm grateful for what I've learned through this friendship about the role of community and doing life together in faith.

I am so grateful for the depth of our friendship.

I'm grateful for a kindred spirit. I'm grateful for our conversations about desiring to be settled, about "hanging up curtains" where we live, about Rez, and relationships, and how (...and where, and with whom) to live after college.

I love our long walks through Wheaton and Glen Ellyn, meandering through the neighborhoods with our arms linked, pointing out the cute houses we like, rejoicing at coming signs of spring and now delighting in summer sunshine and green.

 I love that we lay on the grass by the playgrounds and at the lake behind Rez spilling our hearts. (...Or talking about what foods we craved when we studied abroad. Which is also important.)

I'm grateful for cuddling under a blanket on her couch, staying up late talking.

I'm grateful she came over to help me pack and brought packing tape and plastic bags and was absolutely firm in making me get rid of stuff I needed to get rid of.

I'm grateful she'll call me when she has extra soup in her fridge she wants help finishing off.

I'm grateful that when I sent out on email jokingly asking for chocolate, she immediately arranged to take me on a date to a chocolate freakin' restaurant.

Sheee's just adorable. Ooh- and look at our chocolate-covered strawberries!!

I love hearing her heart. I am so grateful and privileged by her intentionality in sharing it with me. I'm so appreciative of how she receives mine.
I love the role we play for each other, I think, in being consistent prayer-and-processing friends.

I am so grateful for a friendship in which we can talk for hours and still have plenty to say.

I'm grateful that it is perfectly normal for a date to include both laughter and tears- and usually plenty of random tangents, even in the midst of something intense.

This was taken tonight! What is a movie-and-pizza-night without a Photobooth session?

I'm so grateful for who this beautiful girl is.

I'm grateful for her silliness. (Friends who make funny faces and weird noises are my favorite.)

I'm grateful for her empathy.
And her great kindness.

I'm grateful for her deep desire and striving for honesty with herself and others.

 I'm grateful for her deeply committed faith.

I'm grateful for her loyal heart.
I'm grateful for her intentional vulnerability.

I'm grateful for what I learn from her maturity, wisdom, and nuance.
I love how she loves her family and the way she talks about her mom.
I love her sense of humor.
I love her up-for-adventures! spirit.

I'm grateful for and learn soooo much from her attention to and faithfulness in small things.

I just love her so much.

 

Look- it's that same guy from the park! We found him in her apartment, too! What a coincidence!

"You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die. A spider's life can't help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."

-Charlotte, Charlotte's Web

E. B. White

(for some reason that quote just made me think of her as soon as I read it. Charlotte is a wise spider.)

Thanking God for giving me Mere this year.

.15.

A gift in this year: Rez.

I cannot begin to say how much the Church of the Resurrection has meant to me this year.

But I will attempt to do so.

 A few months ago at a HNGR dinner where sexual abuse was discussed, a guest asked, calmly and innocently, "Wow, so how do you cope with hearing stories like that?". I think I let someone else answer; my quick response was silence, and if spoken would have been along the lines of, "Um, you don't cope, you learn to function.".

But there are things that you do- that I did- that kept me... more than functioning. Later, chewing it over with a safe person, I found I could name a few of them. And one of them was attending Rez.

Rez was such a gift from God to me this year.

I am grateful that it kept me engaged with the Creator in a way I'm not sure I could have gotten to on my own.

I am... oh man, this is just a hard one to write. There are just too many.

I am grateful that I went to a church that believes in lament.

 I remember so vividly sitting in the Holy Week Wednesday night service last year. We sang Psalms to the tune of Plainsong, softly and somberly, for over an hour. "Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck... I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched... the Lord hears the needy and does not despise His captive people."

There is room in this church and its theology, for what happened to my girls. 

Suffering, deep suffering that does not always get better,

is not mutually exclusive with what Rez teaches.

Thanks be to God.

This year at Rez,
I could praise God and seek God and believe in a good God,
within the context of a world where little girls get raped.
They make room for that. They do not preach the prosperity Gospel. There is room in their praise services for "I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched." There is room in their worship for "Streams of tears flow from my eyes, because my people are destroyed."

Because I felt freedom and validation to lament, because I was seeing examples of people who were seeking God with that lament,

I could, over time, find my way to the ultimate purpose of lament:

"I called on Your name, Lord, from the depths of the pit.

You heard my plea."

But I had to do that lament, first. I am still doing that lament, so much.

I honestly, want to and think I should always be, lamenting, in some part.

Acknowledging before God that things are not how they were supposed to be,

and that that sucks, can and should be an important part of the Christian faith.

(Oh man... this is turning into a whole other post...)

-this world is broken. And we need to lament that.

And Rez does.

And I am so grateful for that.

I am so, so grateful I was immersed in a liturgical service and community. I wrote this on liturgy exactly one full year ago, and though prayer feels easier for me now, this still stands.

"...Prayer was and is, in an incredible gift of grace, the liturgy. It is going to church and saying and singing the same words every week, and in recent months being blessedly able to affirm them more and more. It is the gratitude that rises up in me that, in my inability to tell God these truths about Himself out of any spontaneity or warmth or even sense of friendship, I can sing them and raise my hands for an hour on Sunday mornings and get to tell Him them in that way. That I can find myself more and more knowing that I do believe these things, and that this liturgy, this church, is providing a way for me to affirm them before my own emotions or abilities are going to let me do so on my own. Oh, how grateful I am to get to praise God through words others have written and songs others are singing when my own heart is so confused and cold."

I love the liturgy.

I love what I've learned about church history. I love being on a calendar with Christians throughout the world. I love praying the prayers Christians have used to worship our same Lord for centuries and centuries.

I'm so grateful for how crazy prayerful this church is.

 I am grateful for the prayer ministers who line the sides of the auditorium every service, every Sunday, and who I make my way over to so often. I've never felt comfortable doing that at any other church but I do at Rez.

I'm grateful for the prayer services held twice a day six days a week at the ministry center. I'm grateful just for the fact that they happen and what that says about this church's dependence on prayer; and I'm grateful for all the times I went. The people are lovely and often it is fun and refreshing...
but also, often, that was a way I could meet with God when I still felt unable to pray alone.

I'm grateful for the kind woman I met in my membership class, who despite the fact that she barely knows me has sought me out on more than one occasion to inform me that she'd been praying for me that week.

I'm grateful for the prayer circle upstairs before every service.

I'm so grateful for the prayer-for-the-sermon ministry, which I got to be a part of... every single service every single week, there are people sitting upstairs praying for the pastor and the congregation as he gives his sermon. Isn't that cool? Does every church do that? I don't know, but I love that ours does. And I loved doing it once a month.

 

I'm grateful that I got a random phone call from one of the main pastors last week, telling me I'd been on his mind and naming some gifts he'd seen in me and asking me how I was using them for the Kingdom (seriously. That happened. On a Wednesday on my lunch break. It was pretty much wonderful.)

I'm grateful that homosexuality is not a taboo word or subject in our community.

I'm grateful for the warmth of the people. I'm grateful for the families I've gotten to know. I'm grateful for the sheer amount of beautiful babies and children everywhere.

I LOVE how they love that there are babies and children everywhere and they are never treated or thought of as an inconvenience or better "out of sight out of mind".

I'm grateful we take Eucharist every week. I'm grateful they make such-such-such a big deal out of the Eucharist. I'm grateful it in many ways feels like what the whole service points to.

I'm grateful for what a huge deal they make out of Easter. As well we should! And how much that has taught me about what the weight of sin is, what the hope of the Cross is, and what joy there is in the empty tomb.

I'm so grateful for the leadership of Rez. I'm grateful that they take care of themselves and each other. At the membership class, Karen said "Without a healthy staff we cannot have a healthy church". I believe that, and I have seen it in other situations. I don't know tons of details of how that's done; but I know that it is a priority for our church to take care of the staff and to be healthy in how they lead. I'm so glad for them; and I'm so glad for us. I feel secure in coming to church knowing that the leadership is taking care of itself and we can pray for and support them. There is a stability inherent in that which brings blessings which are felt throughout our community. And their evident care among themselves for each other is a beautiful model of community for all of us.

I'm grateful for how many Wheaton students go there. I'm grateful I got to worship with some of my closest friends.

I'm grateful for the music. I love the music.

I'm grateful for how there are places for every person with any gift to serve and be needed and appreciated.

I'm grateful for how gravely they take divisiveness and how strongly they work against it.

I'm so grateful I became a member. I didn't know how different I would feel, having made that commitment to a church body. I took it seriously and I feel it. When I am in that community, when I even think about that community, I know it is mine, and that I am theirs. And I want to give to it like that.

And as sad as it is, I am grateful for what it says about how much God blessed me with this church this year-

that the hardest factor for me in deciding to attend grad school out of state,

was leaving it.

(As Mere put it once,

"Rez really complicates post-grad life.")

Oh my goodness, I just love this church.

Thanking God for giving me Rez this year.

.16.

A gift in this year: Steven Doelman.

This was this morning at church. "Steven! I need to take your picture for my blog!" Can't you see how incredibly excited he was about this?

So last summer, I was assigned to lead the class for the kids at Iglesia with this tall, Dutch, Wheaton College senior. He was great with the kids and nice and I enjoyed hanging out with him on Saturday nights, but I'd already decided I was Not Making Any New Close Guy Friends This Year.

Annnnd... I'm grateful for Proverbs 16:9.

Some of our kids have some pretty hard lives. And teaching them was... tricky, in a lot of ways. We started meeting to plan how to teach, and to set aside time to pray for them.

Steven, being Steven, asked as we prepared to pray for the first time,

"Well, and how can I be praying for you?"

 So I told him some things and asked him the same question.

And in addition to praying for the kids, we prayed for each other.

We kept meeting every week, and sharing prayer requests turned into sharing honestly about our spiritual lives. Steven became one of the main people who asked me on a regular basis what I was hearing from God. So I would tell him. And ask him back.

So virtually every week most of this year, we had time set aside to talk for real. And to pray over our kids and pray for each other.

That was such a joy and a gift from God in my year.

I am so thankful for who Steven is and for the friendship we developed.

I'm grateful for his willingness to go deep.

I'm grateful for his heart which is one of the most seeking-God I know.

I'm so grateful for and challenged by his remarkably humble spirit.

I'm grateful for his thoughtful words of encouragement, and how he speaks affirmation of God's work in my life; and I'm grateful that he is willing to push back and challenge me when I need it.

I'm grateful for how seriously he takes church community, at Rez and at Iglesia, and how that's deepened my view of church and challenged me to commit deeper and further to both communities.

SO, SO GRATEFUL TO LEAD THESE KIDS WITH HIM.

I have done it alone on nights when he's away and now that he's doing the Wheaton Summer Bridge program and... let's just say... we are better as a team. (As in, mayyybe I saw him at church this morning and without so much as a hello, immediately screamed in the middle of the lobby, "OMIGOSH COME BACK COME BACK COME BACK!!!!!""...).

Seriously, our team dynamic has been such a joy and help and I cannot imagine having done this year alone.

So grateful for how we can tag-team teaching and classroom management.

So grateful to have someone to share the burden of some of the hardest stories with.

So grateful for our times of prayer;
and for the power of praying in a team for them.

So grateful for someone to just process them with. Often when we meet it's, "How can we reach him? What should we do to engage her more? Did you notice this dynamic...? I think he's really starting to grasp it!". It's SO special and helpful to love them with someone, to be able to bounce ideas off of someone, to brainstorm and plan with another person.

So grateful to have shared these memories with someone.

So, so grateful for his love for these kids. Grateful for his consistency. Grateful for his willingness to sacrifice his time, energy, schedule for them- and the example and challenge that is to me.

Grateful for his faithfulness in prayer.

Grateful for his desire to teach them the Word and to set an example of knowing Christ for them.

So grateful for his high standards for them, for how they respond to him, for his gifts with teaching.

I am so, so grateful they have a positive male role model. It is such a need in the church for men to step up to do that (sorry, soapbox... but, really). Steven is so doing it and I know the fruit from that is bigger than we can see.

Some of our boys... the sign says, "Happy Holidays Steven We Miss You!!!". It was their idea. They all made him signs and I took pictures to send him when he was at home over Christmas break. They love him.

 

And mostly, I am just grateful for his friendship. Grateful to have gotten to learn from and with him. Grateful for the ways he's shown his joy in my joys and I know he's carried my burdens in prayer. And I am grateful to be praying for him and entering into the awesome work God is doing in his heart and life in his post-graduate year.

 "Wow, look, it's the service starting! Hm, think maybe I'll pay attention to that now..."

Thanking God for giving me Steven this year.

.19.

A gift in this year: Children.

This is a pretty good image of how I spent most of my year:
with my arms full of babies.

(As in, I cashed in a groupon on a massage recently- the masseuse told me it was evident I worked with kids. "Your back is twisted in the way we always see with someone who has a baby on their hip all day..."-
I was so proud.)

My life was FILLED with children this year;
so, oh, was it filled with joy. 

It is joy to see God's design in how they develop.

It is joy to watch their growing exploration of the world around them ("Bubbles! Colors! Blocks! A bird! Look!").

It is joy to be the recipient of their gleeful affection.

It is joy to see their innocent, un-self-conscious personalities expressed.

It is joy to hear their questions of faith.

It is joy to see the purest human love between parents and their babies.

 It is joy to deep-down know just how valuable a life is, even when they have yet to "contribute" anything to society.

It is joy to delight in their beauty and uniqueness.

It is joy to pray over their lives.

I loved going to Rez- a church that number one, has tons of small children, and number two, values them.  Kids are welcomed and encouraged to come to virtually anything. I love seeing them come down the aisle with their parents; I love serving them the Eucharist; I love seeing them dance in the aisles during worship. I love the hugs I get from the kids in the families I know. I love that a good friend's four-year-old was scared to take Communion so they had her come to me for her first time. I love seeing them fall asleep on their parents' shoulders during the service. I love that we hear of God as Father with these examples of it surrounding us. I love that they are growing up feeling safe and accepted in an atmosphere of faith.

I loved teaching the elementary-schoolers at Iglesia every week. I love that Steven, Kym, and I took the kids to see a children's play at the college and they still talk about it months later. I love taking them out for hot chocolate after class and that they call it "going on an adventure" ("Are we going an an adventure to Starbucks tonight?!!"). I love that the moms will call me if they need a babysitter. I love that I joke with them that "God wouldn't recognize me taking Communion without a baby in my arms!" (joke- bad theology- He does!)- because most Saturday nights, I reach for the wafer while juggling at least one toddler in my arms and another clinging to the hem of my shirt.

I loved being immersed in Michael and Lisa's family. I love their babies (ages 5, 3, and 10 months). I love babysitting them, I love playing at the park, I love that I met M. the day after she was born, I love watching Michael and Lisa be parents, I love being Tia Emily.

 

And finally, obviously, there was my job.
All year I had eleven babies assigned to me. I got to read to them, I got to chart and watch their development, I got to cuddle and do crafts, I got to plan activities that were particular to their needs and strengths and preferences, I got to observe and encourage and fill with joy at their relationships with their beautiful parents. I got to fall in love with them and see them grow over a whole year.

 (And it's so sad I'm totally not allowed to post pictures of them, because they are the.cutest.babies.ever. Seriously. Be sad you can't see them.)

"How can there be too many children?
It's like saying there are too many flowers."

-Mother Teresa

Thanking God for giving me children in this year.

.26.