the way the leaves keep falling.

Autumn comes late here in northern California. The trees are almost at their peak and tomorrow is already December.  Many of the leaves won't surrender until around Christmas, and it is not until early January that their branches are truly bare.

There's this couple of trees I pass on my way to Lucy's Mom's Day Out program.  They grab my attention every time.  I stopped at the side of the road and took a photo of them today.  Watching their leaves all aglow in gold, the way the ground surrounding their trunks is now gold as well, reminds me of this poem by my favorite poet, Linda Pastan.  I thought I'd share it with you...

The Way the Leaves Keep Falling

It is November
and morning--time to get to work.
I feel the little whip
of my conscience flick
as I stand at the window watching
the great harvest of leaves.
Across the street my neighbor,
his leaf blower already roaring,
tries to make order
from the chaos of fading color.
He seems brave and a bit foolish.
It is almost tidal, the way
the leaves keep falling
wave after wave to earth.

In Eden there were
no seasons, and sometimes
I think it was the tidiness
of that garden
Eve hated, all the wooden tags
with the new names of plants and trees.
Still, I am Adam's child too
and I like order, though
the margins of my poems
are ragged, and I stand here
all morning watching the leaves.

thank You.

Here are the things I'm thankful for this year...in no particular order...

--The Psalms!  I'm thankful that David was a basket-case.  I'm thankful He took the time to write such beautiful poetry, so full of angst and desperation and praise alike.  I'm thankful for this book of the Bible, perhaps more than any other, because it fills me with hope.

--Anything that helps me take life a little less seriously: late night Scrabble sessions with Chris, watching E! at the gym while I grind it out on the elliptical or treadmill (somehow, watching The Kardashians and Kendra makes me feel a little more grounded in reality in a bizarre sort of way, and Talk Soup makes me laugh so hard it hurts), listening to Rihanna or Linkin Park while I grind it out on the pavement, blasting the Glee soundtrack in my car and having sing along sessions with my girlz!

--I'm thankful for a quiet, simple, no-agenda Thanksgiving this year.

--The color of the leaves...they are most beautiful when they are dying.  I especially love the way they look on overcast days...the contrast of flaming orange against a gray sky...but they aren't too shabby against a bright blue sky either.

--The new Coldplay album, Mylo Xyloto.  Coldplay is like Bon Iver...puts me in a better mood every single time.  Bon Iver radio on Pandora is wicked!

--I'm thankful to be back in school, reading and writing poetry again.  I'm thankful that I even have the opportunity to do that.  I'm thankful for my Montgomery GI Bill.

--I'm thankful for Tess's preschool and Lucy's MDO program.

--I'm thankful for fall and winter, when the creative Lib comes back out to play.

--I'm thankful for all of my friends...old and new...life would not be worth living without you guys.

--I'm thankful for the way God is enlarging my heart in the waiting for Ren, even though it's hard, and even though being almost 12 months "pregnant" is really uncomfortable.

--I'm thankful that the first homemade apple pie I attempted this Thanksgiving didn't flop...it was a huge success.  I'm thankful for the simplicity of apple pie.

--I'm thankful for simplicity in general.

--I'm thankful for coffee, British tea, and Pinot Noir, and most of all, dear friends to drink it with.

--I'm thankful that Chris has a steady job.

--I'm thankful for my parents and my whole family.

--I'm thankful for my Honda Pilot...particularly the built in DVD player, which keeps the girls quiet and resultantly keeps me sane.

--I'm thankful for Instagram and Pandora and modern technology in general.

--I'm (sometimes) thankful that I'm not in control of my life.

--I'm thankful for my husband...dude, he is the greatest blessing of all.  I'm also thankful for the "thanksgiving omelet" he just made...stuffed with stuffing, turkey, cheese and cranberries.

--I'm thankful for God's provision.

--I'm thankful for changing seasons...in all aspects of life.

--I'm thankful for Linda Pastan, Sharon Olds, Robert Hass, and Billy Collins...my favorite contemporary American poets who bring me so much pleasure.

--I'm thankful for Post-It notes, the blogosphere, the way it gets dark by 5pm, and the new Chick-Fil-A that opened up in Fairfield.

--I'm thankful for my incredible girlies...they are a precious gift.  I try to be thankful for the high-pitched squeals of my almost-two-year-old's tantrums...they keep me relying upon God for patience and strength.

--I'm thankful for hand sanitizer.

--I'm thankful for retail therapy with girl friends.

--I'm thankful for hot bubble baths and clean water.

--I'm thankful for SLEEP when I find it.

--I'm thankful for modern medicine.

--I'm thankful for dark chocolate.

--I'm OH-SO-THANKFUL for Crossroads, our church here in CA!  I'm thankful for our pastors, for Sean and Carly, for CR, my sponsor, and for the authentic women who are part of our church.

--I'm thankful even for the hard things in life...stress...loss...grief...sleepless nights...keeps me clinging to God.

"It is good to give thanks to the Lord,

And to sing praises to Your name, O Most High:

To declare Your lovingkindness in the morning,

And Your faithfulness every night."

Psalm 92:1-2

what are you thankful for this year?

striver.

This morning I was reading in Ecclesiastes and several thoughts sprang to mind, particularly as I read these verses:

"For what has man for all his labor, and for the striving of his heart with which he has toiled under the sun?  For all his days are sorrowful, and his work burdensome; even in the night his heart takes no rest.  This also is vanity.  Nothing is better for a man than that he should eat and drink, and that his soul should enjoy good in his labor.  This also, I saw, was from the hand of God."  Eccl 2.22-24

Even in the night his heart takes no rest.  This is familiar territory for me.  Since this summer, I've felt God whispering, or perhaps even yelling,

"Lib...chill out!  Take a rest.  Come be with Me and just breathe."

I knew I was in trouble when even after desperately striving to find rest, I couldn't do it!  How's that for irony?

The more I sought to do this, the more I realized how restless my heart is and has been for a long time.  In the past I have told my mom that she needs to chill out and stop striving so hard for everything. And now, here I am, eating my own words, realizing that this apple has not fallen far from the tree.

Sometimes I wonder if reacting to crises in my life comes easier for me. Someone once said that living through a crisis is easy...it's the day to day living that is more difficult to survive. As I've reflected upon my life over the past years, it has been one sort of "crisis" after the next...all the moving, the military, the deployments, the babies, the miscarriages, etc. There has always been something "just around the bend" to keep my heart and mind occupied and striving towards.  

Even this adoption was a crisis of sorts.  When we started praying about it, there was a tremendous sense of urgency about the whole thing. We have to do this and do it NOW! And while I firmly believe that God has called us to do this, I also believe my mind took the entire endeavor a step further by thinking that it was up to me to save the orphans, that I must work tirelessly to fill the gaping abyss of need in this world, and that God desperately needed me to do this work.

What I have come to see over the past months, in the drudgery of daily living and the discomfort of waiting, is that God doesn't need me to do anything.  He is God and I am human...a human child of God that needs rest and sleep and food and play and exercise.  He did not create me to strive to make right all the wrongs of the world, and when I strain to do that, I'm arrogantly ignoring the glorious sacrifice He made by giving up His own son. I'm denying my own powerlessness, and this denial keeps me from living in the reality that He is God and I am not.  He graciously chooses to use me to carry out incredible plans within His kingdom...but it's not all up to me.  On the contrary, not much of anything is up to me.  And thank God for that, because I am starting to embrace that there is great freedom in this realization.  I am starting to understand that there is perhaps more to learn about Him in the dailiness of life than there is on the spiritual mountaintop or the valley of crises.

I mean, seriously, how can I compete with this?  

I woke up to this view out of our kitchen window a few months ago.
As Anne Lamott would say, God was being a bit "show-offy."

***

In the book I'm currently reading, The Quotidian Mysteries, Kathleen Norris writes:

"Is it not a good joke that when God gave us work to do as punishment for our disobedience in Eden, it was work that can never be finished, but only repeated, day in and day out, season upon season, year after year?  I see here not only God's keen sense of humor, but also a creative and zestful love.  It is precisely these thankless, boring, repetitive tasks that are hardest for the workaholic or utilitarian mind to appreciate, and God knows that being rendered temporarily mindless as we toil is what allows us to approach the temple of holy leisure."

Or, in the lyrics of Chris Martin: "Everything I do, it just comes undone...yeah that's the hardest part."

***

I am coming to understand that resting in God is a choice.  It requires that I surrender myself completely to His will and purposes, which is mutually exclusive with striving, worrying, and "chasing after the wind."  Resting in God runs parallel to living in the moment, embracing the work at hand, especially that work which doesn't produce visible and lasting results.

The fourth chapter of Hebrews is a convicting place for me to go with all of this.  I stumbled upon...or rather was graciously led to it...several months ago...ironically during a sleepless night in Las Vegas.  The whole chapter is incredible, but for now I will quote verses 9 and 10:

"There remains therefore a rest for the people of God.  For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His."

God is not above rest...so why should I be?  I'm coming to realize that resting in God is a way of life...one that is not devoid of mental, emotional, and spiritual discipline.  It requires a near constant surrender of my thoughts and feelings to God's truth, which at this point, can often feel more uncomfortable than restful, but I'm hoping that won't always be the case. 

What do you find yourself striving for?

serenity.

Can you hear the crickets?

I know it's been quiet around here lately.

I know I've fallen off the face of the earth. I know I have not returned a lot of emails and that I've generally been an unsatisfactory friend over the past couple months. Please accept my apology and know that I hope to start resurfacing at some point in the near future.

What I will say for now is that I've needed a lot of solitude and space to start working through some personal stuff...that I've needed to retreat to the "wilderness" in order to get on the mat with God and start really working through these things.

About two months ago I attended a womens' conference at our church. Our speaker talked about the story of the woman in the gospels who had been bleeding for years on end (can you imagine being on the rag for 12 years!?!) and no one could help her. She had seen every doctor around and NO ONE could heal her. Jesus was her last resort. So, she went to find him.

When she found Him, Jesus was on his way to help a twelve year old girl and the multitudes were following Him. This woman cut through the crowds, thinking, if I could just touch his garment, I will be healed. We can imagine this woman weaving through the multitudes of people, trying to get closer, stepping on feet, elbowing people, trying to create enough space to get to Christ. She finally reached Him and touched his robe and was immediately healed.

Christ felt it too.

He felt the power go out of His body and He said "Who touched me?" (Luke 8:45) Then he said it again. Even though Jesus was in a crowd and was being poked and prodded by the multitudes, something about this woman's touch was different and Jesus felt it. He said, "Somebody touched Me, for I perceived the power going out from Me." (v46)

The woman was trembling and fell down before Him and told Him why she touched Him and how she was healed. And Jesus said,

"Daughter, be of good cheer, your faith has made you well.  Go in peace."

This woman believed in Christ and she was willing to put her life on the line for this belief. She was willing to look like a fool for this belief, and she knew she needed to create enough space in the crowd in order to be able to reach Him and touch Him.

As our speaker shared this story with us she asked us what spaces we are creating in our lives in order to experience Christ. Because in order to experience Him, other things usually need to go.

So, I suppose I share this story because, 1) I have needed to create more space in my life in order to allow God to be what I need Him to be for me, and 2) I want for Christ to feel MY touch.

He's revealing to me how much I've longed for other fallible human beings to fill my longings and provide my healing. And while He most certainly provides an uplifting and encouraging body of Christ, skilled physicians, experienced counselors, and loving family to help us along life's journey, these people alone still aren't enough. Their approval, affirmation, advice, understanding, expertise, encouragement, opinions, love, and wisdom aren't enough. They can't make right what's been wronged in my life, they can't save me, and they can't hand me my identity on a silver platter.

God is asking me to look down the long, dark alley of my own neediness and to find Him at the end.  He's asking me to trust that He'll start putting some street lights all along that alley, shining light and life where a lot of confusion, fear, and darkness has been.

He's asking me to ESTEEM HIM ABOVE ALL ELSE. To love Him more than I love anything in this life. He's asking me to face reality, to grieve, to grow up, and to allow Him to parent me, love me, and provide for my needs in ways I've never believed He could. He's also teaching me how to love and parent myself, to listen to my wants and needs, and to shelf the self-loathing that's felt familiar and comfortable for years and years.

The process has been slow and painful--recovery and change comes slowly--but I am starting to see progress, and I am starting to experience peace and serenity in some places.

It has been really hard waiting for Ren, but I feel like this waiting time has been a merciful gift from God, allowing me time to get my head and heart in a good place. God is showing me that the more I surrender my life to Him and the more I take good care of myself, the more equipped I will be to take good care of my children, including Ren, and all of those I love. I will love them because God loves me and I love myself, not because I want or need them to give me something or fill up the empty reservoir of my soul.

Love thy neighbor as thyself.  That means I need to love "thyself."

Anyhow, this is where I'm at. This is where I've been. This is why I have not been very present in every-day life. A massive renovation or priorities has been taking place in the home of my psyche and spirit, and the demolition has left me void of much to give.

I'm gonna end with a prayer that has ministered to my heart over the past month. You will probably recognize the first four lines--it is very well-known--but the rest of this prayer has really spoken to me when I'm anxiously and desperately clamoring to regain control of various aspects of life. For me, this prayer is steeped in reality and invites me to ACCEPT REALITY, to live in the MOMENT, and to continually SURRENDER my life to God...

Prayer for Serenity


God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that You will make all things right
if I surrender to Your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.


--Reinhold Niebuhr

I hope you all are well.  Thanks, as always, for your love, prayers, and support.

Orphan Sunday is HERE.

Today is Orphan Sunday!  

"A father of the fatherless, a defender

of widows,

Is God in His holy habitation.

God sets the solitary in families;

He brings out those who are bound 

into prosperity;"

--Psalm 68:5-6

For God So Loved - OS from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.

carvings.

I'm sitting in the family room, my laptop on my lap, listening to my dad and my husband talk baseball.  My dad is reminiscing.  He shares memories of watching Mickey Mantel at Yankee stadium as a young boy.  Chris rattles off statistics from past World Series.  I tune in an out of their conversation, but overall, I enjoy the male-talk...the momentary departure from female angst.

The men carved pumpkins tonight.  Chris is gifted with a blade.  Of course, the blade he used this evening was much larger than the delicate one he uses on the human eye. Nonetheless, the man enjoys working with his hands, sculpting and carving. One of my favorite childhood memories is of carving pumpkins with my Dad when I was about six or seven years old. We sat around the kitchen table in our little house in Atlanta, GA and dug out the slimy innards of our plump pumpkin. There's a photograph that freezes that memory in my mind...my face holds a huge smile as my arm is submerged in the orange guts.  That was the image of Tess tonight, joining the men at the table, an eager and willing assistant. It was a "full circle" moment for me...big time.

When all the carving was done, the guys took the five jack-o-lanterns out into the darkness.  We gathered outside to watch their lights flicker and laughed over which jack represented each family member.

Chris is the one on the left.  Jolly, chipper, happy-go-lucky.  Lucy is next to Chris.  She's got that sassy toddler look on her face.  I'm the one on the far right.  A bit forlorn, disgruntled, anxious.  Tess is next to me...she says she's the one with the "rock star eyes."

And of course, the one in the middle is little Ren, sweet Ren.  Where are you, dear boy?  We lit a candle for you tonight, anxiously awaiting your light to shine in our family.  So, wherever you are, I hope you know that we are burning to meet you, even if you still are half a world away.

It was on Halloween, one year ago, that Chris and I first had "The Talk" about adoption.  There were tears and conviction...sentiments of wanting to live our lives differently...totally sold out for God and His purposes for our lives.  Here we are, a year later, paperwork logged into China, and still waiting upon God to say "when." We are living one day at a time, trying to seek Him in the present, in the moment, in this season where things seem to be at a standstill.

I read this tonight:

"I don't know what's coming next," I said to my friend.  "I don't know what my future holds."

"Don't worry," she said. "Your soul does."

This feels true.  My soul knows.  I don't know when or how, but I feel like God is giving me this time to prepare for what lies ahead, gradually carving me into a being that better reflects Him, teaching me healthier ways of living, and showing me more and more that I can't love other people abundantly until I accept His love for me. Easier said than done.  I'm anxious about the ways our family will be carved and molded by all the events that await us in the dark unknown...our little lights flickering in the blackness.

My light has felt dim lately.

Sometimes I'm still surprised by how hard life is.  Why am I still surprised by this?  Life is hard.  Why should I think anything different? We aren't home yet. We live in a fallen world.  But it continually takes me by surprise, knocks the wind out of me...keeps me going back to the Source of truth and goodness, the only real and lasting Hope there is.  But the carving process is painful...living in one world while being created for another is a difficult thing to carry around inside sometimes. Sometimes I wonder if I feel this reality too much.

Alright, that's it for tonight.  Please, someone, tell me to lighten up, to stop taking life so seriously.

Seriously.

I'm gonna go play some Scrabble with my husband...

P.S. ***  It's the following morning and I came across this verse during my time with God...I love how He leads us directly to passages that He knows will speak to us...it's crazy how much this one correlates to what I wrote last night.  I had to add it on to this post...

"He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the dimly burning flame.  He will encourage the fainthearted, those tempted to despair.  He will see full justice given to all who have been wronged." --Isaiah 42.3

continuing education.

One thing I love about our Christian journey is that it's an endless education.  For someone such as myself, who loves learning and who would love to be a professional student for the rest of my life, this is good news.  I continue to be amazed at how much I still have to learn, and how graciously God continues to instruct me.  Here's a bit of what He's been showing me lately...

I started a study at church through a ministry called Celebrate Recovery (CR).  I've been doing it for about a month now, and I'm already amazed by how much I'm learning about myself and God.  I started this study mainly because I felt like I was at this place of desperation, struggling with a lot of anxiety, insomnia, and a compulsive desire to gain people's affirmation.  I knew I needed to connect more with God and with other believers face to face, and so this step study seemed to provide the structure that might enable me to do that.  It's modeled after the 12 steps of recovery, but centered around scripture and the gospel as well.

This past week's chapter was on the topic of SANITY.  I think it was Albert Einstein who first said that the definition of INSANITY is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result each time.

Guilty as charged.

Chris calls this behavior "backing myself into a corner," meaning that I often times will know I need to make a change in my life, but will then come up with a long list of reasons why I can't make that change, leaving myself backed into a corner with nowhere to go, lingering helplessly in the same situation.  It's the ultimate self-sabotage, and yet I've been known to do it all the time.

They say that the first step of change is admitting you have a problem, and I know that recognizing my strong tendency to do this has opened up a new reality for me...and hope for more SANITY and PEACE in my mind.

One of the questions we looked at this past week was "what things have you been doing over and over again, expecting a different result each time?"

YIKES.  I really have to write that down?

Well, a few things that I was able to name were...

1. My tendency to seek in others what only God can give me...a sense of self worth, approval, and identity.  I can tend to seek this from others, and come up empty and frustrated EVERY TIME, so why do I keep going there for life?  I can point to places in my story where I've learned this way of coping, but I'm ready for this to change.

2. I also like to deny the fact that I want more in my relationships with God and others by isolating and convincing myself that I can do life on my own.  That NEVER works out well.

3. And last, but certainly not least, I'm realizing how much of a perfectionist I am...and how perfectionism is none other than an extreme attempt to control my world but upholding an image that is impossible to maintain and incompatible with reality. It sets an unattainable expectation on myself and on others and zaps the life out of me.  And yet I continue to think that if I just try harder, strive harder, work harder, do more, know more, please enough people, be good enough, and check all the boxes, then I can control my world and control my relationships with others.  I can even control being disappointed by people.

The thing about having to write this out (we have to write down our answers for CR and can only share in group what we've written) is that once it's on paper, I can't deny it anymore.  The truth is there in front of me in black and white.  Once it's all written down and I have to hear myself read it out loud, I can suddenly see how ludicrous my coping mechanisms are, how lousy they work, how exhausted, anxious, depressed, and sleepless they make me, and how out of control I am.

I feel like God is bringing me to a place where I am staring face to face with my Great Need For HIM.  It's uncomfortable to admit that I need Him on an hourly basis, moment to moment, not just in the big things like our adoption process, but also in the very mundane daily things, like my insane thought life.  It's hard to depend on a source of life other than myself and to feel deep in my gut the reality that I can't do life without Him.  It doesn't provide a calming sense of security to a control freak like me...at least, not at first. But the cool thing is that I am learning to surrender and rest more in Him, and I'm realizing how much more at peace I am when I do this. Ironically, the more I rest in God, the more He shows me how restless I've been.

Another thing I love about the way God instructs us is the way He teaches us through convergences.  I woke up early this morning, unable to sleep, and I felt compelled to pick up a book I've been reading with a friend--Brave Hearts by Sharon Hersh.  I flipped back through some pages I'd already read, and it was like God was confirming EVERYTHING He was already showing me this past week through the questions I was answering.  This part really hit home...

"Controlling behavior is often founded on a desperation for approval--from others and from God.  We long for unconditional love, but our perfectionism keeps us from believing it when it's offered and keeps us working to obtain approval and acceptance on our own merits.  The foundation of legalism is a focus on ourselves, which results in lonely, unending striving, aloofness from others, and independence from God."

"Our imperfections also highlight our need for God, for Someone to finally come along and put an end to our constant striving.  Shattering the foundation of perfectionism allows us to feel less alone, to depend on others, and ultimately depend on God.  We make room for God as we acknowledge our imperfections.  Our imperfections as well as the shortcomings of others bring us face to face with the reality that no matter how hard we try, we are not the ones in control.  And this realization brings us closer to the God who is."

I was also talking with my friend Molly on the phone last week and we were discussing how much all women struggle with perfectionism...how much we fight against maintaining some image of how we should look, act, how our family should be, how our children should look and act, how our homes should look, what size clothes we wear, what we have or don't have, etc etc etc.  It's all so darn exhausting and keeps us from admitting our imperfections and flaws...it keeps us from letting God cover over those imperfections and frailties...and it keeps us from connecting with one another.

I just wanted to share what I feel like God has been teaching me about rest and hope IN HIM, and not in any circumstances that I can provide for myself, and how much more peace I'm starting to experience in my heart as I allow Him to take back the control of my life that's already His.  It's a daily struggle to surrender this stuff to God, but it's been really good to feel like I'm connecting with Him, and I guess I hope that my sharing this is will somehow encourage you today.  The good news is that Little Miss Perfect continues to die a slow death!

Show me Your ways, O Lord;

Teach me Your paths.

Lead me in Your truth and teach me,

For You are the God of my salvation;

On You I wait all the day.

--Psalm 25:4-6

Orphan Sunday!

This is obviously a cause I'm passionate about...

so I thought I'd try to rally some others to get on this train with me!!!

Orphan Sunday is on Sunday, November 6th...about a month away.  I'm hoping that our church can do something in support of this day so we can raise more awareness about all of the kids in the world who need love, support, and families.  

If you feel compelled to observe this day at your own church, you can go to this website:

http://orphansunday.org/

There's a wealth of info and resources to help you!  Here's one of the videos that's posted on the web site...I thought it was worth sharing...

Orphan Sunday 2011 from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.

contemplation.

“The ordinary activities I find most compatible with contemplation are walking, baking bread, and doing laundry. ” --Kathleen Norris

I might add "driving" to Kathleen Norris's list, too.  Yesterday, while the girls were napping, I slipped out for a Peet's coffee and a little fall shopping. As I drove down I-80 towards Fairfield, I suddenly felt nostalgic for all of those alone car hours spent in quiet contemplation during the days of my "youth"...all those moments in my teens and twenties when I took for granted the blessing of driving in solitude...when I didn't understand that these contemplations would one day be consumed by Dora the Explorer DVDs, sister bickering, and a constant stream of questions from my four year old.

Yesterday was bright and clear, one of those fall days perfect for football or just camping out on the patio of a coffee shop or pub.  The trees are still mostly green here, with faint touches of red slowly slipping into the leaves. It's hard to put into words the way the "feel" of life changes during the fall, the shift in the angle of the sun, the way everything seems to pause a bit, the way sound and light seems more concentrated. You can feel the change, the slow death, the stirrings of something that is beyond our power or grasp, and yet it's almost impossible to describe.

I was listening to the new Blind Pilot album in my car yesterday, but I found myself drifting to all the other music in my iTunes library that reminds me of the fall. A little REM--Automatic For the People, some Counting Crows, Neil Young, of course, a little Pete Yorn, some old school Matchbox Twenty, Ben Folds Five, and definitely David Gray. Why does music provoke so many memories, and why do all of those memories feel denser to me during this time of year? I think a Fall Mix is in order.

My sweet, heroic hubby took the girls to church this morning while he taught Sunday school and let me stay home alone to enjoy some peace and quiet, some needed rest. I'm listening to music, the dishwasher is running, and I'm soaking in these hours to just be. I took a bubble bath, had some hot tea, and spent some time journaling.  As I wrote, I was aware of a subtle, intuitive sensation that something is stirring.  

Do you ever get that feeling about life?  

It's a lot like the autumn...you can't quite put your finger on it, but you sense that something is either growing...or dying...or dying so that something new can grow in its place. God's Spirit is always stirring. Sometimes I feel it, sometimes I don't, but lately, I have felt it strongly. I'm struck by the irony that the more I rest and trust in God, the more movement and stirring I feel...and the less hustling and striving I do. There is still motion, but a different kind of motion. It's movement that doesn't require any action on my part, but only stillness, listening, and open hands. That's the best kind because it doesn't leave me exhausted, but only more at peace, more at rest, more in touch with the real me.  

While I tend to dread certain drudgeries of domestic life, I've lately found myself enjoying them more...the laundry, cooking, cleaning. Inspired by Kathleen Norris as well as a few of my other favorite writers, I was compelled on Friday to try my hand at baking bread...real bread, with yeast and all.

The whole step wise process of the yeast rising, then kneading it down before allowing it to rise up again, is relaxing (if you have the time for it!) Baking bread requires leisure and patience, a bit of delicacy. Or, as my favorite poet, Linda Pastan says,

"bread rising in the bowl

is like breath rising in the body";

or "if you knead the dough

with perfect tenderness,

it's like gently kneading flesh

when you make love."

Baguette...pita...pane...

challah...naan: bread is 

the universal language, translatable

on the famished tongue.

I become more and more certain that the best things in life take time, patience, and delicacy to develop.  You can't rush them or push them.  They have magical qualities that are out of our control and understanding. This is how God works, how His spirit works, and how we work, too, if we stay connected to Him, the Source of it all. Creation takes time and delicacy. Becoming who He created us to be is this way too.  

I'll end with one of my favorite Psalms, which seems to express some of my contemplations lately...

"I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel;

My heart also instructs me in the night seasons.

I have set the Lord always before me;

Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices;

My flesh also will rest in hope."  --Psalm 16:7-9

What have you been contemplating lately?  What ordinary activities do you find compatible with contemplation?

in comes the Fall...

My favorite things about autumn so far...

gray days...when I feel most like myself.

pumpkin scented tea lights.

Peet's cafe au laits with gingerbread syrup.

rediscovering the psalms.

pumpkin EVERYTHING.

sister love.

watching Lu camp out on the kitchen floor with her markers.

apples in season!  my favorite fruit.

the new Blind Pilot album.

literary mags

Mary Beth Chapman's memoir, which I devoured.

other things I'm loving, not pictured...

face time with friends, new and old.

phone time with old friends

drinking hot milky English tea without sweating

taking bubble baths without sweating

the shorter days

wearing scarves again

putting our thick duvet cover back on our bed

boots!

what are some of your favorite fall things?

enough.

“For as long as you can remember, you have been a pleaser, depending on others to give you an identity. You need not look at that only in a negative way. You wanted to give your heart to others, and you did so quickly and easily. But now you are being asked to let go of all these self-made props and trust that God is enough for you. You must stop being a pleaser and reclaim your identity as a free self.

Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure.”

--Henri Nouwen

truth telling

I’m trying to tell myself the truth, but the minute I seize to do so, the lies start infiltrating again.

Exactly one week ago we got a call from our adoption agency case worker, Tiffany, telling us that we got our log-in date (LID).  This is a big deal for us, as it means that our eight months worth of paperwork has officially been accepted by the Chinese government.  Tiffany will now have access to all the orphans in the databank to look for our Ren.  Up until this point, her access has been limited, only able to view older children or those with more serious needs.

After she gave me the good news, I asked her how long she thinks it might be before we get our referral--before we find out who our boy is.  She said that the biggest hinderance at this point is Lucy’s age, as Ren must be at least ten months younger than her.  Lu is 20 months now, which means Ren must be no older than 10 months, and Tiffany said that most of the boys with more minor needs are at least 12-18 months at the time of referral.  She said we may just need to wait for Lucy to get a bit older.

Some days I’m okay with the waiting, such as last week, when Lucy dropped a load in the hallway during the brief two minutes I had her out of a diaper, and as I cleaned up the mess, I wondered what it will be like to add another child to this already chaotic equation. Some days I’m okay with the waiting because I trust that God knows what is at stake for our family this coming year.  He knows about the cross-country move ten months from now, the house we need to put on the market or find renters for, and the community we will lose and have to rebuild, yet again.  He knows the physics of all the aspects of life currently in motion.  He knows the precise, perfect moment when our hearts will collide with the boy we haven’t yet found.

And then there are days when I loathe the waiting and sink into a deep, dark funk because I’m tired of watching this process go so much faster for everyone else.  Some days I loathe the waiting because I don’t have anything to tell people when they ask, “So, how’s the adoption going...have you heard anything yet?”  Some days I loathe the waiting because, like Eve in the garden, I butt up against my compulsive need to know.

This conundrum of conflicting emotions is ever present.  I’ve had thoughts like,

What if we weren’t supposed to do this?  What if this is all a big mistake?  What if we didn’t really hear God’s voice at all?  What if I’m deluded?  What if this timing is all wrong?  What were we thinking?

And then I resurface from the darkness for a few moments and a stream of light shines through the clouds, reminding me that this is the sanest thing we’ve ever done, and that any endeavor that requires supernatural patience and the full embrace of mystery is typically straight from God.  

And sometimes, in the weak moments when I need it most, He sends me merciful little whispers that coax me along despite my self pity and doubt.  One of these came a few months ago, just about a week before we received our long-sought-after immigration approval letter, in the form of a phone call from a woman I’ve never met in person.  

Her name is Esty, and we have a mutual friend, Tiff, who put us in touch last winter, when we were both praying about beginning the adoption process.  Esty has an incredible story, starting out adopting from China, only to be drastically redirected to Uganda, where their little girl was waiting for them all along.  Esty had called to tell me this miraculous story, which yields tears and goosebumps every time. Hearing it gave my sullen spirit a major jumpstart and refreshed my belief that God’s timing REALLY is PERFECT (it’s not just some trite Christian cliche)! Before we hung up the phone that night, Esty said, "Libby, yes, there are a lot of other families waiting...but no one else is waiting for Ren.  He is your son."  

I am still hanging on her words, even now, as I continue to struggle with the waiting.  Our case worker said last week that it may take up to six months from now to find Ren (because of Lucy’s age) and that it will most likely take another six months after the referral before we can travel to get him, which means it could be a whole year from now before we are bringing him home.  We are already nine months into this process, and her forecast does not fit into the 12-15 month timeline we were originally told.  I’m desperately trying to re-gauge my expectations. And in reality, we could find Ren next week, so there really isn’t a whole lot to go on.  Only faith.  Only Him.  At the end of the day, what else is there?

This morning I read,

Patient endurance is what you need now, so that you will continue to do God's will. Then you will receive all that he has promised.  --Hebrews 10:36

And then there's this,

May He give you the power to accomplish all the good things your faith prompts you to do.  2 Thes 1:11

And this one too...

You do not belong to yourself, for God bough you with a high price.  1 Cor 6:19-20

These verses keep my waiting in perspective.  

This is the truth I’m telling myself today.

Me Vs. Myself

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind...the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.  --Mary Schmich 

I was talking with my mom on the phone last week and she asked me how my writing was coming.  I told her that I’d been researching literary journals over the past month, trying to familiarize myself with the writing market, hoping to submit some of my poetry to journals this autumn after being coaxed by my poetry professor to “send off my babies.”  

I’ve been polishing up a few poems, getting them ready to send off, and as I continue to revise them, I keep thinking how they will be received by others, whether they’ll be accepted or rejected, and what that all will mean, if anything.  This is part of an artist’s life--creating work that means something to you personally, then putting it out there for the world to see, vulnerable to rejection, and not letting the feedback get you down if it’s bad, or not getting too cocky about it if it’s spectacular.  

My mom listened and then told me this story about a professional speed skater (not sure about his name) who recently spoke at my dad's company. This speed skater has won all sorts of national and world championships, but each time he went to the Olympics, he fell and did not win a medal. The painful, takeaway lesson of his story is that when he was competing at the Olympics, he would look around at all the other skaters and get psyched out about whether or not he was better than they were.  He said he lost hold of the belief that the only important thing was performing the very best he could--regardless of all the other skaters around him.

Such a simple lesson.

One that we all too often forget, constantly caught up in a sea of comparison.

I recently ordered a book from Amazon called The Triggering Town: Lectures and Essays on Poetry and Writing by Richard Hugo.  We read excerpts from it in my poetry class this summer, and I liked Hugo so much that I ordered the whole book.  As I was reading on the flight to Vegas, the following paragraph struck me--something that’s closely connected to the story my mom shared with me...

Oh, and to offer a little context first, Hugo is talking about a guy named Roethke, who was his first and most influential poetry teacher.  He writes,

“Roethke’s love of prizes, rave reviews, and applause would sometimes prevent him from emphasizing to the student the real reward of writing--that special private way you feel about your poems, the way you feel when you are finishing a poem you like.  Yet he knew it, and in rare moments it showed.  Once he said to me, that nervous undergrad who wanted the love of the world to roar out every time he put a word down, “Don’t worry about publishing.  That’s not important.”  He might have added, only the act of writing is.  It’s flattering to be told you are better than someone else, but victories like that do not endure.  What endures are your feelings about your work.  You wouldn’t trade your poems for anybody’s.  To do that you would also have to trade your life for his, which means living a whole new complex of pain and joy.  One of those per lifetime is enough.”

Hugo also writes,

“Never worry about the reader, what the reader can understand.  When you are writing, glance over your shoulder, and you’ll find there is no reader.  Just you and the page.  Feel lonely?  Good.  Assuming you can write clear English sentences, give up all worry about communication.  If you want to communicate, use the telephone.”

What I love about Hugo’s points is that we all--whether we are writers or painters or speed skaters--need to stop worrying about other people--whether we are better or worse than them--whether they’ll “get” us or not--whether what we have to offer is good or bad.  

God made us in the unique way He did for a reason, meaning that you and I have something to offer the world that no one else can.

We need to keep offering it regardless of what people do with it.

(I am preaching to the choir here).

As my professor, Frank, says about rejection:

“Everyone gets rejected! You are not alone!  I get rejected all the time. Poets with award winning books get rejected all the time. Shakespeare, if alive today, would probably get rejected now and again. Success in publishing in poetry ranges from unpredictable to completely erratic. You may have a dry spell of months, even years, and then find that everyone wants your work. You may find instant success and keep it. Nobody may ever appreciate your work in this lifetime and then in the year 2070 you will be a superstar.”

It seems to me that the more we look to outside sources to define us, to give us our worth, to tell us what we need to do or how to do it, to tell us whether or not we have what it takes, we are in trouble and we've missed the point.  

Bill Cosby once said, 

"I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."

And as Steven Pressfield says in his book The War of Art--

"We’re not born with unlimited choices.

We can’t be anything we want to be.

We come into this world with a specific, personal destiny.  We have a job to do, a calling to enact, a self to become.  We are who we are from the cradle, and we’re stuck with it.

Our job in this lifetime is not to shape ourselves into some ideal we imagine we ought to be, but to find out who we already are and become it.

If we were born to paint, it’s our job to become a painter.

If we were born to raise and nurture children, it’s our job to become a mother.

If we were born to overthrow the order of ignorance and injustice of the world, it’s our job to realize it and get down to business."

So...all of this is to say that in the end, I know the race is long, and I know it’s with myself.  The race is marked by this long, baffling process of becoming myself, and of learning to be comfortable with who I am and what I have to offer, regardless of how the world receives it.

***Oh...and if/when I receive piles of rejection letters this winter/spring, remind me to come back to this post for encouragement, will you?