picking up pennies

It is still the first week in January, and I've got great plans. I've been thinking about seeing. There are lots of things to see, unwrapped gifts and free surprises. The world is fairly studded and strewn with pennies cast broadside from a generous hand. But--and this is the point-- who gets excited about a mere penny? If you follow one arrow, if you crouch motionless on a bank to watch a tremulous ripple thrill on the water and are rewarded by the sight of a muskrat kit paddling from its den, will you count that sight a chip of copper only, and go your rueful way?

It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won't stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get.

-Annie Dillard, from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

a week in the ark... GQ magazine

Someone just emailed me this article from GQ about Christian consumer culture... it's a must-read.

klife.com/resources/staff/media/GQ-WWJD.html

Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch.... but right on...

being and doing

It's pretty attractive these days to keep a busy schedule. In the church, it's pretty much a badge of honor. We don't really mean for it to be, but it is. It's real subtle, but it looks something like this: Look at how hard she's serving. What a heart for God that guy has! You start out with a sincere desire to serve God and to touch people's lives, so you work hard. The harder you work, the more ministries you find yourself a part of, the more badges you earn. The more badges you earn, the more you're respected and admired. The more you're respected and admired, the more you're motivated to keep busy. And on the cycle goes. You can never do too much of a good thing, right?

Til one day, you look in the mirror, and you're wondering who on earth you're looking at. You're burned out, you're tired, you're ready to quit. But if you were to quit being ________ (fill in your own blank)... who would you be?

Right now I am a legal secretary-pastoral intern-worship leader-youth mentor-communications director. Look at my badges... look at who I am...

But are my badges, are my job descriptions and titles really who I am? (For that matter, is what I type here really who I am?) If I were to quit all of those things, would I still be able to recognize myself in the mirror?

Sometimes, I'm a little unsure of what that answer would be. It's so easy to find myself solely in my doing... to see myself in the image people reflect back to me as a result of what I do. That scares me. For two reasons: 1) I can get pretty impressed with myself sometimes. Look at how hard I work, look at what a servant I am, look at how much I love God... I start enjoying the thank-you-for-using-your-gifts and boy-that-really-blessed-me, etc., a little too much. I try hard to have a right heart, but sometimes, I start seeing my only value as what I can produce. Either that, or I get really disgusted with myself. I fell short, I messed up, I couldn't do enough. Basing my self-evaluation on my activity and on others' responses always leaves me with a skewed view, one way or the other. 2) I run the risk of being so busy "doing ministry" that I cease ministering. I'm running from here to there, doing this or that, too busy to really be available for unscheduled kinds of ministry. (They're called, in common language, "interruptions"). I miss making time to stop and listen and look into the eyes of a friend, rather than a quick hug and away-I-go. I miss the "I really need to talk" tone in one of my girls' voices because I have to go help with tearing down sound. As if speakers and monitors couldn't wait!

I run the risk of being the priest or the Levite who are so consumed with the activities they're admired for, they ignore and pass by their bloodied and battered neighbor, lying desperate in the street.

When I got hurt nearly two years ago, I fought so hard to continue all the activities I had done before. I had myself convinced that it was because I loved people and serving God, and while that was surely a part of it, I think it was also that I was scared to give up my honor badges. If I wasn't Stacey, Super-Hero-Christian... who was I? Could people love me if I didn't produce anything? Could I love myself? Could God?

I learned that the answer was yes... yes, grace does exist, and it not only exists in God, but it also exists in the hearts of his people. I am still me, even when I do nothing very impressive.

Let me be clear - being means precious little if doing does not express it (James is a bit blunt on this)... but for us busy types, it's important to remember what comes first, and what truly makes us who we are. We are who we are because of the work of Christ in our lives. That's it. We can't add to what God has already done. We can only express it.

Thomas Merton offers some great thoughts on this:

"... we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity. We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from circumstances that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are to be the quiet expression of our inner life. We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting an immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition."

"We are warmed by fire, not by the smoke of the fire. We are carried over the sea by a ship, not by the wake of a ship. So too, what we are is to be sought in the invisible depths of our own being, not in our outward reflection of our own acts."

Take off your badges for a second and look into the mirror. Can you still see yourself? God still does. In case you've forgotten, He's as crazy about you as ever. Just as much in your dumb regretted moments and motives as He is when you shine. I needed that reminder this week. And if you did too, be at peace.

healing in the stillness

After a long bath, a big meal, a longer nap, and a big mug of green tea, I think I'm nearly human again. What a trip!

I'm proud of us. Getting there late, thanks to Steph's mixup of N & S (10.30 pm) and unable to stumble upon our planned destination, we found this remote little joint called Liliwaup Creek and randomly picked a campsite. Dang, we're good. In the dark, we picked this great site right on the river... imagine our surprise and great delight when we also found out that this was a FREE campground (I never imagined anything on earth was still free...)

Granted, the grounds were also free of running water, electricity and flushing toilets... I can truly say we roughed it. I can also truly say that there is nothing like washing your hair in icy cold river water. Brain freeze from the outside is an amazing phenomenon!

I'll share more of the fun details of the trip when I have the pictures to go with. I took most of my pics on Jules' camera because hers was cooler. Great hiking, great bridge jumping (Aaron), great rock jumping (me and Steph)... all I can say is, we are SO hard core. And the pics to prove it...

For now, this TM-ish thought: There is healing and restoration to be found in silence, if we have the courage to let go of our compulsive need to fill every moment with noise and activity.

I had forgotten the benefit of just a few days of truly retreating. Not youth retreat retreating, but real retreating. It's really a waste that I don't do it more. This gorgeous place in the middle of the Olympic rainforest is only an hour and a half from my apartment. And there are a million other places just like it here. I forget how necessary it is to let yourself be still... away from the TV and the radio and the hectic schedule. My body is tired and sore from all the hiking I did, and from the early mornings... but my mind is so clear and rested. One look in the mirror was evidence... stress was eased from my heart on this trip. (It was also evidence of how crazy I look after camping, but that's a whole other thing)

We were pretty laid back for the most part. Mornings consisted of hot chocolate and breakfast, and then each person to their own time with God. It wasn't planned that way... we hadn't plotted out how to make this a super-spiritual retreat... it just happened. Each person just took time to be. It's fun to be with friends who are okay with silence. Everyone pulled out their book or their journal and took some time. I found a comfy spot where some logs had fallen over the creek... I read some Thomas Merton and wrote for a while and just let the water's music refresh me. Later, Tawny and I pulled out our guitars and we all worshiped together. It was a beautiful time. How can you not worship in the midst of a masterpiece God has created? In the sunshine, it was gorgeous. In the fog and rain, perhaps even more so. (Which is good, because it rained yesterday and POURED this morning...) In the afternoons we hiked. At night, we played games, laughed and talked until we were too tired to move from our chairs to our sleeping bags. It was great.

I just thoroughly enjoyed myself, my friends, and my God this weekend. And came back refreshed in my heart and ready as I can be for what I know is going to be a long week ahead.

*****

Also, just found out a bit ago (thank you M...what a great surprise!) that an article I sent in to Relevant was published in their online magazine...

It was really just the smallest of things, it's not like I got a book accepted or something, but it was just a little step of faith for me to put something out there, come what may, rather than just talking about maybe doing it someday.

I have no idea why God is so good to this girl, but I'm just grateful.

By the way, those of you who continue to visit this little piece of my life, thank you. It's such a little thing, this collection of words and thoughts... but it means a lot to me that anyone would take the time to read them, much less to share their thoughts in return. So thanks.

looking up

There's this spot I always pass as I drive into Silverdale where I can see practically forever. The city looks much smaller than it actually is, and the trees give it a peaceful, serene quality. (Much more peaceful, say, than it feels on the main drag at 5 as everyone's getting off work. They're all hurrying, honking horns & noticing in the rear-view how tired and run-down they look). Looking straight ahead, past Silverdale and its self-important busyness, are acres and acres of quiet woods. They often resemble someone's painting - evergreen, then a bluish, and then fading into a hazy gray off in the distance before your eyes stray to the beauty of the rugged Olympic peaks.





If I look to my left, I have an incredible view of Dyes Inlet -- home to herons, bald eagles, gulls, and orcas -- and onetime refuge for me as a lonelier, younger version of myself. I grew up not far from there, and I'd often run down the path to where it met the water's edge for time to think. I would just sit there, my arms pulling my knees up tight into my chest to brace against the chill breeze. Just sitting. No one watching. No one expecting anything. No one to impress or disappoint. Just time to talk to God and listen to the water lapping up on the rocky shore. The only thing present to break the peace was a fish jumping or a bird singing. Welcome interruptions.





Tonight, a traffic light stopped me right in this very spot. And held me there. Normally, I'm annoyed to be the first one stopped, as it means that I wait the longest. Especially this week. I've been hurried, stressed, and troubled. So tangled up in my own knots that I've been unpresent to the moments and people around me. Not so tonight. I let myself look. I let myself stare for once at the beauty all around me, and I drank it up. The sun was just starting to go down, but the clouds were all shining gold. Rays shone down through the clouds, the kind that always make me feel that God's about to say something important, that some kind of big announcement is coming.





And as I just let myself be, God did say something important. (I've never heard God speak in the audible sense of it, but there are many ways to hear, and it may be that the heart hears best of all, in my experience). Take the time to look up, Stacey. I'm still here. In the midst of your circumstances, in the midst of your troubles, I am here. If you see only the busyness, the day-to-day, the mundane, the silent screaming of the world around you, of course your heart will be laid low. So look up! Look for Me... look for My perspective, and you will find hope. I am working in ways that you don't see, and often putting things together in ways you don't understand. But I am here, and I love you. Look up!





Corinthians 4.16-18 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Run, Stacey, Run!

Someone out there is having a great laugh at me. I will never make fun of my brother again... I will never make fun of my brother again... I got a little flyer for a race in the mail today... and the sick part is, I was tempted to train for it. Clearly the memories of my last adventure have faded a little TOO much...

I proudly keep a bib number in sight, my badge of honor from my last attempt. My pastor Wes thought it would be a real hoot for us interns to run this 12k Sound to Narrows thing with him. (12k=7.46 miles, for the "lay person"). I don't run. But that day I did. For at least three miles of that seven, I was a racing machine. Hey, a 1:45 finish is nothing to snicker at. Actually, it is, but the point is, I finished, and Lil finished, and ALL THE BOYS WUSSED OUT AND DIDN'T EVEN GO. I figured, hey, no pressure. No matter what, I've already beaten three people.

About halfway through the race, I wanted a bus to come hit me and put me out of my misery. I saw a lovely woodland squirrel sitting by his tree, and I HATED HIM IN MY HEART because I had to run and he didn't. Then there was an oldies cover band playing at the halfway point to motivate us. To me, there is nothing motivating about oldies music. I came close to hating them in my heart as well. Celebrate good times, indeed. Let's trade. I'll play guitar, and you can run this race, and then maybe we'll celebrate.

Nevertheless, I finished the race. And it was amazing the sense of accomplishment I felt. And the overwhelming sense of pain. (Lil and I both could barely move for four days... we mastered a less painful way of movement looking something like a cross between the funky chicken and the steps of a 100-year-old man). Wes, of course, looked no worse for his experience, but that is to be expected. Natural athletes inspire in me a bitterness that is difficult to put into words... :)

So we'll see what I decide to do. Crazy how there's actually a temptation to put myself in a place where I'm supposed to run. Again. Voluntarily. And pay $20 to do it. Bring on the pain!

OK I'm off... time to go see "The Notebook" with Jules & Amber & Brent. I'm wearing waterproof mascara and bringing 30 tissues. I've heard it's a doozie. Predictable? Probably. Sappy? For sure. Nothing better.

Confessions of a Flake

Lying on a beach in Maui recently, enjoying the solitude and slow pace, I had some time to think. I’d looked forward for months to the chance to not have to think about my job, my bills, my to-do-list. So I didn’t. Instead I chose lighter fare – thinking about my purpose, my calling, my life’s direction. What a most likely dumb and most certainly dangerous thing to do. During my mental ramblings I experienced a rare moment of clarity. It brought about simultaneous eruptions of both fear and anger, as I heard the familiar message unmistakably: you are moving (slightly) in the wrong direction. This is not what you were made to do.

Not again, God. I look like enough of a flake already. Not again.

My moment of clarity proved fleeting, as it touched off a plane ride and several days of confusion and, to tell the truth, just plain being ticked off. I’d sacrificed so much to follow a Voice I thought I heard so clearly... and now, all over again, it’s a mistake? Have I ever heard Your voice at all, or do I just jump from whim to whim, playing this stepping-out-in-faith card whenever it’s convenient to hush those who would question my wisdom and/or sanity?

I know that this won’t necessarily win me any Faith-filled-Christian-of-the-Year award or anything, but writing is my form of confession, so I’ll say it here: God’s hand is hard for me to see sometimes. His purposes are beyond me. That’s not to say I don’t believe they’re good, I’m just saying this - Most of the time, I’m a bit confused. And in my own day-to-day craziness, there are times that it’s a gut-wrenching exercise of my faith to believe that, despite my circumstances, God is at work in me.

Every time I decide that I’ve got a clue as to what God is doing– or more specifically, why it is that He’s doing it – something happens to completely shake those assumptions up. Case in point: my college career. Perhaps "career" is too generous a term for it. I think "dabbling in college" might be a more accurate portrayal. I am one of those people who, when someone asks where I’ve got to school and what I studied, it takes a good ten to fifteen minutes to explain all the moves back and forth and the choice-of-major switches.

Things seemed so solid seven years ago. What the heck happened? I graduated high school so sure of myself. Unshakeable. I envy myself back then - the surety, the confidence I felt that I KNEW THE PLAN GOD HAD FOR ME, all five easy steps of it. The plan didn’t include three colleges, eleven moves, a serious car accident, and a still-elusive B.A., however.

The past seven years since graduation has been quite a journey, filled with more questions than answers. The main question has been this: How do I know I am in God’s will? When I step out in a certain direction, fairly sure of God’s hand in it, and then it fails, what do I do with that? Does God call me to certain paths only to lead me to another path? Or am I, as I’ve long feared, an incurable tumbleweed? Has God called me to be a tumbleweed?

I think that might be part of my dilemma. When I think I’ve heard God’s voice, I tend to view it as a mandate for the rest of my life, when it’s more likely a path for a certain season. "Stacey, for the rest of your life, you’re going to be a ___________." Oh, good. I finally know what I’m going to do when I grow up. Now the wondering can stop. The seeking You can end. My self reliance can begin. Phew. Glad that’s over. See you at the finish line, God.

I keep forgetting something about God. While He is infinitely more concerned with my well-being than I am, He’s considerably less worried about it. God is not worried about whether or not I reach my ultimate goals. My sights have been set for far too long on the end of that five step plan, whereas His have been on how close we’ll get during the ride. My seeking Him is way more important than my knowing exactly which path to take and when. Although there is not much that I can say for sure, I know this: the uncertain, tentative, yet reckless woman that I am now is a bit closer to God’s heart than she was at the age of seventeen, grabbing her diploma with self-confidence and clear visions of the path ahead.

I think Thomas Merton had it right in his prayer in Thoughts in Solitude: "Just because I think I am doing Your will does not mean that I am actually doing it. But I believe that the desire to please You does in fact please You, and so I will trust You always, even though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will fear no evil, for You are ever with me, and You will never leave me to face my perils alone."

The more time goes on, the more I have a deeper awareness of my shakiness, my frailty. I used to crave the banishment of this constant reminder of my weakness, but more and more, I'm beginning to welcome it, even if the greeting is bittersweet. Facing my humanity squarely grants me the freedom to quit pretending I have it all together. I do not have to have the answers. I don't even have to have the right questions at this point. What I do have to have is a closeness with One whose strength doesn't waver, whose sense of direction is never off, and whose grace is big enough to cover each and every fumbling step along the way.

2 Corinthians 12:9 "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

Diary of an Old Soul

Was reading this again... man, it's good stuff. Just passing it along...

5.15
Afresh I seek thee. Lead me — once more I pray —
Even should it be against my will, thy way.
Let me not feel thee foreign any hour,
Or shrink from thee as an estranged power.
Through doubt, through faith, through bliss, through
stark dismay,
Through sunshine, wind, or snow, or fog, or shower,
Draw me to thee who art my only day.

5.21
But he who would be born again indeed,
Must wake his soul unnumbered times a day.
And urge himself to life with holy greed;
Now ope his bosom to the wind's free play;
And now, with patience forceful, lie still,
Submiss and ready to the making will,
Athirst and empty, for God's breath to fill.

GEORGE MacDONALD

Correction...

Kevin says that if I am going to make fun of him, I at least can get my facts straight. He ran five miles.

Kev, you are a true inspiration.


I laugh, but the truth is, I CAN'T RUN THAT FAR. So the joke is on me and my lame, I would bleed from the ears if I ran that far, self.

Perfect weather for a run...

My brother, Kevin. Kevo. O'Rich. O'Stupid.

(Normally, smart kid. Today wasn't his day, however.)

PROLOGUE: It's approximately seven hundred degrees outside. OK, maybe more like ninety. But it's stinkin' hot.

Speaking of which, I need a chocolate ice cream Reese's blizzard, pronto.

ANYWAY: I get home at lunch, and a few minutes after I'm home, Kevin stumbles in the door. At this point, he redefines the word "scarlet". You could also use him as an example of "sweating-like-a-pig". (I've always wondered... how much DO pigs actually sweat? Never having been in close proximity to pigs, I don't know. But I digress...) Poor guy looked like he would either (a) explode, (b) begin bleeding from his ears, (c) die of heat stroke, or (d) die of heat stroke.

THE OBVIOUS QUESTION: What the heck is wrong with you?

THE ANSWER: "Oh, I thought to myself, it's blistering hot outside, and there's nothing more refreshing than attempting to run four miles out in the sweltering heat of the noontime sun." That wasn't actually his answer. I can't remember what he said. I was too dumbfounded... in absolute awe of the fact that my brother was this color. Literally.

NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL IN THE FRYING PAN.

Speaking of suicide-inspiring heat, (just kidding), Mom is pretty good to us. (Cue trumpet fan-fare): We now have a second fan for our third-story apartment! I won't have to sleep out on our deck (not kidding) on top of a sleeping bag! LOVE YOU MA.

"I'm sure you already know this, but she's not the brightest pencil..."

Best thing I've heard today. Nothing like a little bit of this metaphor, a little bit of that one... NOT THE BRIGHTEST PENCIL... Wow. I don't know if anything can top it. But, then again, it's only noon.

Who-o-oa... Amber is the color of your energy...

This is me and my other favorite part of the Gibbs family, first night at camp before camp hair and the I've-had-no-sleep-all-week zombie eyes kicked in.  We had a great time goofing off as usual.  Some people just have the gift of sunshine, this girl definitely does.  Plus, she looks dang good in her trucker hat.

Amy & Stace

This is my beautiful friend Amy (first comment poster, thanks) the night before she left for Australia (and, coincidentally, the night before her house burned down. The newspaper photo showed flames shooting out the window from the couch behind us...Life is strange.)

Amy in Australia!

Amy's making new friends Down Under... (He knows what you sent Neilie-boy as a present, Amy... and he is NOT HAPPY...)