Wednesday, January 27, 2010

my imagination is not big enough

Over the last three weeks a friend and co-worker of mine had her pregnancy turn from joyful expectation to fearful uncertainty. Sure people were saying, "Are you sure you're not due till March? Are you sure there's only one baby in there?" People always say such things. Then the doctors started saying things...

Last Thursday, I read this:
"The baby has a serious condition called fetal hydrops, which means he/she has a lot of fluid accumulated in his/her body. Based on today's ultrasound, the baby has fluid accumulation all over: under the scalp, pockets in the chest (which are compressing the lungs and more than likely have not allowed the lungs to develop fully), throughout the legs...everywhere. There is also too much amniotic fluid surrounding the baby..."

And all the testing and waiting ensued. Regardless of the testing, they were told that she would more than likely go into labor before the due date and that the prognosis was not good.

Today she reached 32 weeks.
Today she delivered her baby boy, Josiah, via emergency c-section.
Today they are still here.
Today Josiah is with Jesus.

Have you ever really wrestled with God? For yourself?
How about for someone else? For someone else's life?
Today I found myself thinking, "Where do I get off telling God to do what He wants with someone else? Can I do that?"
I would take a breath to begin a prayer and find my chest totally constricted and my mind empty of words.
Just a deep aching question chained to my heart.
It's one thing to ask God to do for you what would bring Him the most glory, best reveal His holiness. It's something else to begin to say that for someone else.

What do I know of holy?

I think the right question, the only question is: Where is God in my question?
I can't imagine that.
I keep hesitating every time I go to do something "normal" like talk with a friend, or read, or write, or eat.
These things will never be the same for them.
What do I know.

My dear. sweet. strong. beautiful. friend. If you read this in the weeks to come, know that I cry with you; I ache with you, as best I can imagine.

God keeps telling me that He is. And that is enough.
I pray He holds you and your family tonight and tells you the same.

resolved: part 2

Do something creative every day.

Sometime this last year I was told, "There is no grace in imagination." I forget who told me, or who they were quoting. The initial context was directed to how easy it is for us to imagine ourselves somewhere else, or as someone else, or with someone else than what is the current reality. I agree that to live in a constant mindset of fantasy is completely unhealthy, is not truth and therefore is not living a grace-filled, abundant life.

However, in a larger context I disagree.

God imagined all that we see and are.
He created it and us.
If He did not graciously endow us with creativity as part of His image in us, we would never do anything.

To those of you who say with a whine and a pout, "I'm not creative!"
I say, "Horsefeathers! No two snowflakes alike. Ever. Right? The same with us humanbeans. You are simply not creative like [in the same way as] me. Just do something."

This guy agrees with me too. "Too?" You ask.

Yep. God does too.

Here's a few photos of my most recent waste of tim......creative endeavor.
(This one's less useful than others. It was fun. Therapeutic creativity definitely counts.)



Start with some pine cones and the old stubby candles that you are too much of a hoarder to throw away.

Create your own dutch oven [Dutch wha? No wooden shoes or tulips involved, just a bowl in water in a pan. Also known as a double boiler.] I can offer no specifics on the temperature of the water. Just get it hot enough to melt the wax. While it melts, take pictures of things for your etsy store and get your tongs, wax paper and potholders handy.

Then let the wax cool to the point where it will actually stick to the pine cone and layer on with each dip. I had to take the bowl of wax out of the water and let it sit for a couple minutes. Leave the water simmering so you can put the bowl right back when it starts to firm up around the edges. Holding the pinecone firmly but gently [I know that's an oxymoron] dip and roll the pinecone in the wax. The goal is to not squeeze so hard that the pinecone breaks and falls into the wax, splashing everything in reach, or projectiles across the kitchen, also splattering everything in reach. Meh. Hold the pinecone for a few seconds between each dip. Review your ABC's or sing There Once Was a Man Named Michael Finnigan.... once the wax is as thick as you want, lay the pinecone on wax paper on the counter to cool.

When you need to make dinner in the pot you started out with. switch to a smaller pot that actually fits the rim of the bowl and prevents its bottom from dragging in the water. A.k.a. a proper double boiler. Continue melting, cooling, and dipping and remelting. P.S. If you want colored pine cones, use colored wax. Food coloring will not mix with white/clear wax. At least not the average, grocery store sqeeze bottle kind. It's apparently water based.

Viola!

Thursday, January 14, 2010

On my desk at work is the following:

banquet plans
calendar
camera and cable
cell phone
clock
cold coffee
coupon
general tso's chicken (three last cold sticky pieces I cannot bring myself to eat)
flash drive
folders
hammer
kleenex
ibuprofen
lap top
m&m's
one dead computer (static+flashdrive+hard drive apparantly do not mix without catastrophic results)
paring knife
pens
phone numbers of pregnant girls in crisis
several sticky notes
sunglasses
to do list
water

Friday, January 8, 2010

Thursday, January 7, 2010

in response to wonder at his attention to me



I think that we forget to see
Until we see a child. We
Who grow up tall and grow up fast
Forget to let the wonder last,
Forget our souls were made with wings,
Forget to stand in awe of things,
Forget there’s wonder in a hand,
Forget that God is great and grand.

We are not mesmerized by grace
Or sun or sky or form or face
We are not awed by blood or cross.
This is our pride. This is our loss.

Excerpt from See by David Gunderson.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010