Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday, John Calvin. Finally hitting the big 5-0-0. Today is a big day.

I called my mom this morning, after missing like 4 phone calls in a row from her. She began the conversation by wishing me a happy birthday.

::Uhh, Mom, today's not my birthday... about 5 months off yo... and I feel like you should know that, considering that you were the one most intimately present on that day. When push comes to shove comes to squeeze, it was you do the pushing and squeezing::

Being my tactful self, however, I merely responded, "huh? what?"

She reminded me that today was the day that I made my initial decision to follow Jesus, fourteen years ago. Happy re-birth-day, in her words. And so it was, and is.

::Guess that makes me an teenage, prepubescent Christian these days.::

::that could explain so many things::

Go team. It's been a good journey. Here's to expecting another good year...

meeting flipper

I think I'm having a regional identity crisis. There. I said it.

::whew:: ::wipes forehead::

Glad that's off my chest.

Hanging out in Madison has been fantastic beyond my wildest expectations, including the one where I hoped that I might meet Flipper while here. No no, much better. But at the same time, it has raised a certain number of unexpected thoughts and questions, most specifically, where do I really belong? And it's not so much a question of not belonging anywhere, but conversely, belonging in part to too many places.

::cause I'm the wanderer, yeah the wanderer, I roam around around around::

Bonus points if you can name the song.

And while there are certainly advantages to having lived and served in a number of different places, "belonging" in a number of different places, there are also moments when I wish that I knew for sure where home was... maybe that's one of those "not yet" moments.

Or maybe I should just hold out hope for meeting Flipper.

masterpiece in microcosm

* written as personal reflection, after prayer ministry class 2009, kG 7/2/09

masterpiece in microcosm
seeing the very big, in the very small.
the finger of God
touching the fragility of mankind-
the master craftsman
reshaping his creation.
author, illustrator, maker, Lord,
gently touching.

we see but in part:
then we shall see fully.
he allows us to see just a piece
of his healing,
his heart,
his power.

and audacity of all audacity,
invites us to participate
as instruments in his hands:
the potter's wheel;
the sculptor's knife;
the scientist's equipment;
the artist's brush:
useless, even dangerous,
outside of the master's hand.
no authority or artistry
outside of the master's hand.

would you rain down, Holy Spirit,
ye even reign down in us.
we the microcosm long for your touch-
dry bones, without your breathe-
smelly grave-clothes, without your call forth-
one day's worth of oil, without your blessing.
we long for
the finger of God
touching the fragility of mankind.

come Holy Spirit.

Jehovah Nissi: the Lord is my banner.

Kristen here, reporting from Madison WI, at IV Mecca! While it's been two years since I was last here, in some ways, it feels like just yesterday...

Yet, this year, this experience really has felt like a place of Ebenezer for me, of celebrating redemption, in how far God has brought me in the last 2 years, since I was here for my ONS.

Then... I really wasn't sure I wanted to be on IV staff... and was actively praying that God would show me that he had made a mistake in his calling and didn't really want me on staff. I was looking for a way out, and nearly had that elevator conversation with my supervisor many many times. Had the "I quit" ("before I even begin!") speech memorized.

Now... I can say with certainty that the last two years, while hard at times, have been an immense blessing, and have caused me to grow in beautiful ways that I wouldn't have otherwise. And I can say with certainty, that I am supposed to be on staff for this time.

Then... I was at 0% of budget, with God's promise that he would raise it by September 15th. I was terrified, shame-filled, and in 100% avoidance mode.

Now... I can testify to the fact that God has answered that prayer in abundance, every year that I have been on staff. The Lord has never let me be in want. He has been my Jehovah Jireh. My provider. And I trust that he will be again.

Then... I hadn't even begun to deal with my perfectionism, and had dealt with very little of the hurts and brokenness of my past.

Now... I can honestly say, God has been refining me like silver in a fire, burning off the dross. It has been painful, hard, and long, but oh so deeply rewarding. It's not all gone by any means, but he has given me a greater sense of my own sin, an eagerness to repent, and has begun a long [and continual] process of speaking freedom over me, in the areas of perfectionism, and past hurt.

Then... Two years ago, Keith Hirata was commissioning us to go out to serve on the campus. He anointed my knees (something which seemed strange at the time), and blessed me to become a woman of prayer. I thought it rather bizarre, and out of the ordinary, but took note anyhow.

Now... God has really challenged me to grow in prayer, and as a result, I'm in Madison for a prayer ministry course. And my dependence on the Holy Spirit has only increased as the Lord has blessed my desire to know him and depend on him more. I don't think Keith knew how prophetic his words would be, but I still feel deeply blessed by them.

Then... I was an un-experienced, nervous 22-year old who thought she knew everything, fiercely independent, and not so good at trusting.

Now... I am still an un-experienced, slightly less young person, but the Lord has been teaching me a lot about interdependence, waiting on him, and listening for his voice. In that, he has taught me how little I know, but how much he delights to use me anyhow. And as I step out in faith, he has increased my capacity and hunger for trust, intimacy, and vulnerability.

Jehovah Rapha. The Lord is my healer. Jehovah Elohim. The Lord our God.

Here I raise my Ebenezer. The Lord has been faithful to me.

DTR...

Last night, I was sitting talking to one of my friends here in Boston...

We were discussing the difficulties of moving and making new friends, and I was telling her that in every stage and location of life, which has been many at this point, I have a different "best" friend(s). At this point, I have many many best friends, from many different stages and locations in life. They're kind of like roll-over minutes... depending on your carrier, sometimes you can keep them from location to location, month to month.

There was a pause, and then she asked the question, "So, who's your best friend here in Boston?"

Another pause, and then I replied, "Well, not to be sentimental, but, it's probably either you or so-and-so."

:: mutual smile::

And another pause, and then she responded, "Yeah, I think you're my best friend here too."

There's something entirely freeing about having that DTR talk, and knowing the other person thinks you're cool too. It was just a small thing, but it made me smile. And just goes to say, DTRs don't have to scary, negative, or strictly romantic. It's always a great thing just to tell the other person that they matter to you, that they are significant to you, and that you think they're super spiffy awesome. And if that ends up with you getting a smooching partner on the other end, double bonus. But if it just results in you and your totally platonic friend feeling mutually encouraged, well, that's a bonus too...

Tell people that they matter. It's important.

Sweet Ginger and Peach

When I requested my first cup of coffee, at 11:21am, she scowled at me and barked a "hrmph" in response to my morning greeting. She'd already been on that train for 5 hours, and cheery was not her middle name.

An hour later, I plopped myself down in the Cafe car to begin the 400+ pages of reading that I needed to complete. She was still bustling around, oscillating between sitting in slow spells, and dolling out overpriced train foods during the lunchtime rush.

Sitting there, for the next 9+ hours, I was struck by the different interactions taking place in that car. Every time she would sit down, someone would come up, needing, life or death, their cheap quality but supremely overpriced beverage. Customers weren't rude per se, but they had an agenda and their interactions with her were limited to seeing their needs met. Any thought to her was secondary, if that. Barely a cursory hello. She was, in essence, nameless, faceless, and identity-less to them. I found myself picturing Rosie the robot-maid from the Jetsons.

Yet, in the course of 9+ hours together, especially after being locked in the Cafe car together over the stopover in NY, my understanding of her really morphed.

She was on the second half of her 3 day work week: a 17 hour train ride down to Newport News from Boston, 4 hours of sleep, and then back up again. She would go home and sleep for 4 days, and then do it again. And again. And again...

She had been a flight attendant until 9/11, on duty that day, but in her words "I was done that day" and "oh honey, working on a train is so much worse than a plane!" She'd been everywhere in the world, but her favorite location was a small town in the northern part of England, right across the Channel from Paris.

She had three sons, nine grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. Her husband was gone.

She loved fruit flavored teas, not coffee.

She was brisk, but not unkind. She was merely doing her job, with people who could not, or just chose not to, see her. My favorite was the woman who wanted her to hold her trash because she desperately had to use the bathroom after consuming four beverages in rapid fire. All this, while standing next to the trash can. And I was struck by how often I say hello, but don't really see the person serving me. I am more concerned with my famished need for a $20 hot dog or a cup of coffee than the story of the person serving me. I don't even make eye-contact a third of the time. My take-home for the day?

People in public service are people too. Treat them as such. Everyone has a story, and their actions make far more sense when set in the context of their narrative.

When we arrived in Boston, we parted ways. She gave me two of her favorite fruit flavored teas (Sweet Ginger Peach) and said, "I'll see you soon!" I replied, "I'll look for you next time I take the train." We weren't friends, but I felt like we had seen each other, face to face, not just in passing.

I only wish I had asked her name.

iceberg ahead.

[inspiration at a minimum, so we'll settle for a confession...]

I have never seen the movie Titanic.

Ever.

[but]

I might watch it tonight.

[please do not shame me, disown me, or shun me.]

Thank you.