The past couple weeks have been me in search of discipline. I have been trying to implement more discipline into the major areas of my life. Those areas include spiritual, physical and financial.
Budgeting, exercise and diet, and the art of listening to God are things that have always consumed many of my thoughts, but have never been a success for me. The money always runs out too fast and too soon. The weight is gained back, the flab returns. I seem "dry" spiritually, or God seems "distant". I've played the excuse card too often to not see that I'm the one responsible, and life is only going to get busier and more complicated anyway.
I realized that I needed to get control of my habits completely during this current phase of my life. I no longer play sports, so for the first time in my life I'm not required to work out. I no longer attend school ( at present) so working a full time job and managing my money and paying bills is necessary. And most importantly, I'm not inundated by spiritual paraphernalia through my school anymore. I learned how to make my faith my own when I went to Poland and then to college. Now I have to learn how to make my faith REAL and LIVING in a world that thinks its a joke.
A certain instance occured about 2 weeks ago where I found myself extremetly upset and angry and frustrated about something. I was ranting and raving when it hit me that I should "practice" listening to God and see what his thoughts were on the matter, fully expecting silence. So I asked God what he thought about it, and if he could give me soemthing to help me handle it? And immediately a name flashed into my head: Ruth. From the Bible. As in Naomi, Boaz, Ruth. I wasn't sure what it meant at first so I did some studying. Turns out I wasn't as familiar with the good ol' Ruth Bible story as I thought. When I read it through my new "Wheaton College Alumna" glasses, I found some cool things that really were words from the Lord for me.
The Book of Ruth is of course a story about Ruth, but she isn't really the "lead" character of the story in the sense of stage time or lines. Naomi and Boaz get most of the costume changes and spotlight. The story begins with Naomi, and Ruth is the newly widowed childless girl who takes a leap of faith and follows Naomi back to Israel (they were in Moab). Then Naomi tells Ruth how to go about fixing their situation. Ruth obeys. Set change, costume change: Ruth takes another step out of the boat and goes and puts herself completely at Boaz's disposal. Pretty brave and bold. Then Act II is all about Boaz going to great lengths to secure Ruth as his own so he can be her kinsman-redeemer. Thus the story ends as Ruth becoming the great-great-great grandmother to King David, and ultimately our Savior Jesus Christ.
The part about Ruth not being the lead in the story definitely stuck out to me. But my handy dandy study Bible also pointed out her main qualities: She was loyal, obediant, and patient. Loyal to her new, if not strange, family. Obediant to Naomi, her motherinlaw and also to God. Patient in that although her entire existence rested on whether or not things fell into place with Boaz, she did not force anything or freak out (so far as I know).
I really think God was trying to tell me to be like Ruth. I know that this may sound simple to you who may be reading about this "like duh". But really- I think Ruth has everything I don't. So since then, I've really been trying to practice the disciplines of patience, obediance and loyalty. I've felt so much peace!
I've been reading and implementing Dave Ramsey's Financial Freedom book. I've been doing Tony Horton's P90X every day. I've been eating an all fruits, veggies, protien diet. And I've been resting in Jesus.
Now lest you think life has become breezy, my finances are great, and I look svelt and gorgeous, no. If anything everything seems to have become harder or more discouraging. But Ruth's situation was more dire than mine. And I will not quit. Like I said, I've not had peace like this in a while. God provides.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Story
If you have ever read Donald Miller's book "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" you would have an idea of what "story" is. I recommend his book. Its very insightful and thought provoking.
Here are a few excerpts from Chapter 25 of the book where Miller reflects on story while listening to a speaker at a conference on writing:
"The first part of a story happens fast, and you think the thing is going to be over soon. But it isn’t going to be over soon. The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. It’s as though the thing is teaching you the story is not about the ending but about the story itself, about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle....I think this is when most people give up on their stories. They come out of college wanting to change the world, wanting to get married, wanting to have kids and change the way people buy office supplies. But they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought and they can’t see the distant shore anymore and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward. None of the trees behind them are getting smaller and none of the trees ahead are getting bigger. They take it out on their wife, on their husband, they go looking for an easier story. Robert McKee [speaker at a conference] put his coffee cup down and leaned onto the podium. He put his hand on his forehead and wiped his grey hair back. He said you have to go there, you know. You have to take your character to the place where they just can’t take it anymore. He looked at us with a tenderness we hadn’t seen in him before. You’ve been there, haven’t you? You’ve been out on the ledge. The marriage is over now, the dream is over now, nothing good can come from this. He got louder. Writing a story isn’t about making your peaceful fantasies come true. The whole point of the story is the character arc. You didn’t think joy could change a person, did you? Joy is what you feel when the conflict is over. But it’s conflict that changes a person. He was shouting now. You put your characters through hell. You put them through hell. That’s the only way we change."
I think this is the chapter that stuck with me the most. What story really is. I agree with Miller. The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be and harder than you imagined.
I rediscovered this during my 3 day retreat this week into the world of Suzanne Collin's bestselling trilogy The Hunger Games. I began book 1 Monday afternoon and finished it that night. I began the second book Tuesday after work and finished it before work on Wednesday. I bought the 3rd book and finished it before work on Thursday. It contends for the best trilogy I've ever read. Francine River's Mark of the Lion trilogy and Tolkein's Lord of the Rings are different genres. (Harry Potter, Twilight and Chronicles of Narnia are not trilogies and therefore excluded).
I was consumed with the story Collin's created. It incorporated every facet of story that my soul relishes. It had the adventure and action, the thought provoking issues, the flavor of romance and the twist of fantasy thrust into a riveting plot with incredible characters and depth. I was engulfed. However, as with all great stories that end, there is the cost. Characters die, or are irreversibly altered. The unthinkable happens, and devastation occurs. It is hard to read when I come to this part in a story. Part of me resists it with suffocating emotion, while the other part of me knows how crucial it is in making the story a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Oh how I hate what occurs, but I accept it all the same because it is necessary, in a way, for the story to be fulfilled. It would have not held me spell bound until the last page and even after had it not occurred the way it did.
And then I fall into the post-book depression in which I re-enter reality in a sort of dazed state as I try and process the end of one of the greatest stories I have ever read. It is always so difficult for me to exit one world and re-enter my own. Its like that for me in movies like Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, and most of all Avatar (in theaters only). Those epic stories that have every element...love and hate, fear and loss, justice and mercy, life and death, good and evil, redemption and destruction, resolution and conflict...they satisfy my soul in some way.
I gave a speech at my high school graduation about how I wanted to live that kind of life- one fraught with the crucial elements of a great story, but that always ends with a happily ever after. As much as I love my happy endings though, its the stories that have the crooked but believable endings that I remember.
The Hunger Games trilogy was not my typical happy ending. Not all the characters survived, and not all that was good was preserved. I was heartsick over this because above all I want the conclusion to stories to be satisfactory in every respect.
But that is part of what made the story so great. It gave me Reality in Fantasy. I usually only go for truly Fantasy in Fantasy.
And the way stories touch me always drive me back to my Lord. I thank him for imagination, and the way he created us so amazingly that we can create Story that touches our heartstrings so firmly. And then I have to remind myself that there is no greater story being told than the one that I've living in. Every other story ever written was in some way based off of it. Because you can't have Story without characters. And you can't have characters without change. And you can't have change without conflict. And conflict brings us back to the journey for our own happy endings...wholeness, love, peace, hope. This is the force that drives humanity. This is the force that drives story. And that is the story of Jesus Christ. And that, dear friends, is a resolution that truly satisfies my soul. Because that is our story, and it is epic.
Here are a few excerpts from Chapter 25 of the book where Miller reflects on story while listening to a speaker at a conference on writing:
"The first part of a story happens fast, and you think the thing is going to be over soon. But it isn’t going to be over soon. The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be, and the work is harder than you imagined. It’s as though the thing is teaching you the story is not about the ending but about the story itself, about your character getting molded in the hard work of the middle....I think this is when most people give up on their stories. They come out of college wanting to change the world, wanting to get married, wanting to have kids and change the way people buy office supplies. But they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought and they can’t see the distant shore anymore and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward. None of the trees behind them are getting smaller and none of the trees ahead are getting bigger. They take it out on their wife, on their husband, they go looking for an easier story. Robert McKee [speaker at a conference] put his coffee cup down and leaned onto the podium. He put his hand on his forehead and wiped his grey hair back. He said you have to go there, you know. You have to take your character to the place where they just can’t take it anymore. He looked at us with a tenderness we hadn’t seen in him before. You’ve been there, haven’t you? You’ve been out on the ledge. The marriage is over now, the dream is over now, nothing good can come from this. He got louder. Writing a story isn’t about making your peaceful fantasies come true. The whole point of the story is the character arc. You didn’t think joy could change a person, did you? Joy is what you feel when the conflict is over. But it’s conflict that changes a person. He was shouting now. You put your characters through hell. You put them through hell. That’s the only way we change."
I think this is the chapter that stuck with me the most. What story really is. I agree with Miller. The reward you get from a story is always less than you thought it would be and harder than you imagined.
I rediscovered this during my 3 day retreat this week into the world of Suzanne Collin's bestselling trilogy The Hunger Games. I began book 1 Monday afternoon and finished it that night. I began the second book Tuesday after work and finished it before work on Wednesday. I bought the 3rd book and finished it before work on Thursday. It contends for the best trilogy I've ever read. Francine River's Mark of the Lion trilogy and Tolkein's Lord of the Rings are different genres. (Harry Potter, Twilight and Chronicles of Narnia are not trilogies and therefore excluded).
I was consumed with the story Collin's created. It incorporated every facet of story that my soul relishes. It had the adventure and action, the thought provoking issues, the flavor of romance and the twist of fantasy thrust into a riveting plot with incredible characters and depth. I was engulfed. However, as with all great stories that end, there is the cost. Characters die, or are irreversibly altered. The unthinkable happens, and devastation occurs. It is hard to read when I come to this part in a story. Part of me resists it with suffocating emotion, while the other part of me knows how crucial it is in making the story a one-of-a-kind masterpiece. Oh how I hate what occurs, but I accept it all the same because it is necessary, in a way, for the story to be fulfilled. It would have not held me spell bound until the last page and even after had it not occurred the way it did.
And then I fall into the post-book depression in which I re-enter reality in a sort of dazed state as I try and process the end of one of the greatest stories I have ever read. It is always so difficult for me to exit one world and re-enter my own. Its like that for me in movies like Lord of the Rings, Pirates of the Caribbean, and most of all Avatar (in theaters only). Those epic stories that have every element...love and hate, fear and loss, justice and mercy, life and death, good and evil, redemption and destruction, resolution and conflict...they satisfy my soul in some way.
I gave a speech at my high school graduation about how I wanted to live that kind of life- one fraught with the crucial elements of a great story, but that always ends with a happily ever after. As much as I love my happy endings though, its the stories that have the crooked but believable endings that I remember.
The Hunger Games trilogy was not my typical happy ending. Not all the characters survived, and not all that was good was preserved. I was heartsick over this because above all I want the conclusion to stories to be satisfactory in every respect.
But that is part of what made the story so great. It gave me Reality in Fantasy. I usually only go for truly Fantasy in Fantasy.
And the way stories touch me always drive me back to my Lord. I thank him for imagination, and the way he created us so amazingly that we can create Story that touches our heartstrings so firmly. And then I have to remind myself that there is no greater story being told than the one that I've living in. Every other story ever written was in some way based off of it. Because you can't have Story without characters. And you can't have characters without change. And you can't have change without conflict. And conflict brings us back to the journey for our own happy endings...wholeness, love, peace, hope. This is the force that drives humanity. This is the force that drives story. And that is the story of Jesus Christ. And that, dear friends, is a resolution that truly satisfies my soul. Because that is our story, and it is epic.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
More
There are quite a few things I would love to have more of. Time, for one. Money, for another. We think life would be easier if only those two things increased for us. But we all know that's not true.
I discovered something this week. I can honestly say that for the first time, I truly want more of GOD. I realized it when I realized that I don't know that I God loves me personally. Now of course I know in my head, but I feel that I lack the conviction in my heart that the one true God of the universe explicitly cherishes me. Besides the rote answers that every Christian can give on how they know God loves them, I couldn't think of a specific example. This may sound very wrong to you. But try to think through a very subjective filter and you may be able to understand my processing.
I've never doubted the existence of God. I can honestly say that I've never had a moment where I hated God. I've thrown every other emotion in his face, however, and I haven't been blasted to smitherines. I never hated God because I had a very healthy fear of the wrath of God. God was always real to me, perfectly real in fact. Therefore his wrath was real as well. I knew what he was capable of because of my understanding of the Old Testament. And for some reason, the negative is what my mind always takes away from those stories. I struggle with reconciling God's mercy with many of the stories in the OT.
Thus I learned to view God that way in my life: I deserve his wrath and judgement, he doles it out, I have to suck it up and press on. I won't say whether this view was wrong or right, because for the majority of my life this is how I thought. God is just, therefore I respond humbly. And that is correct. But I always thought that there had to be more to it than that. All I've ever known is how to be dealt difficult things, only to view them as "growing" or "challenging" times that are meant to "refine" me. My amazing roomate and dear friend Danielle would always talk about the Father's love and how he wants to give me good gifts. That always sounded foreign to me. I figured she must be talking about a part of God I never thought existed because I didn't know that part.
I won't go into heavy detail on where I am coming from lest you consider me a mere deist. Suffice it to say I feel now that in my life I have put God in a box and then desperately sought to release him from it, only to discover now that he was never in my box nor was searching required.
I cannot tell you that I feel I have "found" him necessarily. Those terms are arbitrary when you talk about God. I guess it makes the most sense to say that I've come to the conclusion that my conclusions about God are ridiculous to say the least. I don't have the faintest idea of who or what he is.
But hear me when I say that I ache to know. I long to know. For the first time Psalms 42:1 makes sense to me. "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you O God." I can't explain it to you, but I cried when I realized that I didn't know God, but only a lot about him. My whole being is like an empty cup waiting for immersion in the liquid that gives it purpose. I want to be full. I want to experience what it is to be filled to overflowing!
I want more of God. I want so so much more of God. I want to hear His voice- both coming from Him and coming from others. I want to discern the movements and work of His spirit. I want to speak in his language, in tongues. I want to dream Him dreams and see His visions. I want to encourage His people and see them experience Him they way I long to. They way I dream of experiencing him.
Lamentations 3:24 ""I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will WAIT for him.”
This is my mantra now. This is my prayer. Don't hold back Lord. Let loose. Set my spirit free!
I discovered something this week. I can honestly say that for the first time, I truly want more of GOD. I realized it when I realized that I don't know that I God loves me personally. Now of course I know in my head, but I feel that I lack the conviction in my heart that the one true God of the universe explicitly cherishes me. Besides the rote answers that every Christian can give on how they know God loves them, I couldn't think of a specific example. This may sound very wrong to you. But try to think through a very subjective filter and you may be able to understand my processing.
I've never doubted the existence of God. I can honestly say that I've never had a moment where I hated God. I've thrown every other emotion in his face, however, and I haven't been blasted to smitherines. I never hated God because I had a very healthy fear of the wrath of God. God was always real to me, perfectly real in fact. Therefore his wrath was real as well. I knew what he was capable of because of my understanding of the Old Testament. And for some reason, the negative is what my mind always takes away from those stories. I struggle with reconciling God's mercy with many of the stories in the OT.
Thus I learned to view God that way in my life: I deserve his wrath and judgement, he doles it out, I have to suck it up and press on. I won't say whether this view was wrong or right, because for the majority of my life this is how I thought. God is just, therefore I respond humbly. And that is correct. But I always thought that there had to be more to it than that. All I've ever known is how to be dealt difficult things, only to view them as "growing" or "challenging" times that are meant to "refine" me. My amazing roomate and dear friend Danielle would always talk about the Father's love and how he wants to give me good gifts. That always sounded foreign to me. I figured she must be talking about a part of God I never thought existed because I didn't know that part.
I won't go into heavy detail on where I am coming from lest you consider me a mere deist. Suffice it to say I feel now that in my life I have put God in a box and then desperately sought to release him from it, only to discover now that he was never in my box nor was searching required.
I cannot tell you that I feel I have "found" him necessarily. Those terms are arbitrary when you talk about God. I guess it makes the most sense to say that I've come to the conclusion that my conclusions about God are ridiculous to say the least. I don't have the faintest idea of who or what he is.
But hear me when I say that I ache to know. I long to know. For the first time Psalms 42:1 makes sense to me. "As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you O God." I can't explain it to you, but I cried when I realized that I didn't know God, but only a lot about him. My whole being is like an empty cup waiting for immersion in the liquid that gives it purpose. I want to be full. I want to experience what it is to be filled to overflowing!
I want more of God. I want so so much more of God. I want to hear His voice- both coming from Him and coming from others. I want to discern the movements and work of His spirit. I want to speak in his language, in tongues. I want to dream Him dreams and see His visions. I want to encourage His people and see them experience Him they way I long to. They way I dream of experiencing him.
Lamentations 3:24 ""I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will WAIT for him.”
This is my mantra now. This is my prayer. Don't hold back Lord. Let loose. Set my spirit free!
Saturday, June 4, 2011
My little brother's wedding...and God's will
The Bible says many things on God's will. It says his will for us is to be saved. It says his will is for us to be obediant. It says his will for us it to love others, and live a circumspect life. I googled "verses on God's will" and clicked on the first link. It was a good one. So is Google.
God's will is one of the most widely conversed and yet disagreed upon topics in Christianity. It is what so many of us would give a leg to know, and what so many of us are also terrified of. Perhaps that last statement is an exaggeration....maybe I'm the only one scared of God's will? Yes I believe it is good and perfect and timely. But I've always struggled marrying God's will with promises like "Ask and it shall be given to you" and "the Lord will give you the desires of your heart." God's desire for me is to love him and love others. So if I somehow attain that, then I merit my desires, which means I get to know God and people, and then it becomes circular.
I'm obviously rambling with my thoughts. You will see why God's will and plan for my/your life is a topic that has captured my thoughts of late.
Last weekend God's will was manifested to my brother in the form of a stunning 19 year old south Florida bride.
The weekend was full and exciting. Family and friends arrived and the rehearsal brought everyone together exchanging names. I found myself simple saying "I'm Kelly, the groom's sister." And I was proud of it. None of Brittany's family really knew Kyle but they could only sing his praises. I enjoyed getting to know them- this would be Kyle's family from now on too.
After the dinner at Stoneridge Tavern, Kyle, his best man Josiah and our cousin Brendan escaped and went "in the woods" for a few hours before sleeping at Brendan's. I had all my awesome cousins at my house, so we had a blast hanging out and playing with my new baby Cora.
Saturday dawned sunny and beautiful. May 28th. The day my brother becomes a man and takes a wife.
I was hot mess most of the day, but especially nearing the ceremony time. I wasn't prepared to be so emotional. But who was I fooling? There was one other time when I became publicly emotoinal over Kyle. I was singing at my chruch, and it wasn't even a song for Kyle, but I mentioned that he was going off to college and how I was realizing how grown up he had become without my involvement (since I was in college far away). I started crying and couldn't even speak I was so overtaken with emotion. I barely made it through my song that day.
I'm afraid May 28th, sunny and hot, would prove to be similar in my emotional stamina.
I was the first bridesmaid down the aisle. I walked toward my brother in his tuxedo, the Blue Ridge mountains where we grew up at his back, with the sun well on its decent towards them. I looked at his face and saw the traces of the boy I had shared my life with. But as much as it was him, it also wasn't. I was walking towards a man, ready to become a husband. That eager anticipation of his bride was etched into his features. He was still Kyle, playmate and companion. But even if he ever had, he no longer belonged to me. He was passing into an adventure that I could not accompany him on. He was beginning his own family, and in that he was become more than brother, son and friend. He was becoming husband, the same name Christ gives himself in relation to us, his bride. And that was who I recognized in my brother's face as I walked down the aisle towards him. Despite my efforts to smile calmly and be relaxed before I had to sing, my face crumpled and my mascara ran. But Kyle wasn't looking at me anyway. He had eyes for one girl that day.
She wore an equisite designer gown and long veil, and carried a bouquet of purple, orange, red, yellow and green flowers. She was escorted by her former marine father who wore black patent converse. Her hair was an elaborate up-do that finished off the feminine and and elegant ensemble. She walked in to the song "Kingdom of Love" from the movie "One Night with the King". Tears were streaming down her face as well. But I watched my little brother- on his face written all the emotion that poured out of his heart.
The ceremony was beautiful. I made it through my song. After we exited, I found myself unable to stop crying for quite a few minutes. I don't know what hit me...I guess I never really prepared myself for the moment when my own sibling would "leave and cleave".
But that moment had come and gone and I was still quite a mess. I was quite sure I had regained control of my emotions until the mother-son dance occured. My dad came and stood by me with his arm wrapped around me. My mom looked young, vibrant, beautiful and healthy as she smiled. She was so relaxed, I'm still in disbelief. Kyle eased her around the floor to "Over the Rainbow" while I wept against my dad. Then Brittany danced with her father to "I Loved Her First." Talk about a tear jerker.
But then the music started and the party turned up, finally. I could handle myself with the emotions. Dancing was just the cure I needed. Kyle being the first Brooks wedding, it was all the cousin's first chance to break it down together! We had a blast.
At my favorite point of the night, Kyle sat his bride down in a chair in the center and had a baisen with water brought to her and set at her feet. He read the scripture where Jesus washed his disciples' feet, and then he washed hers. So much symbolism at this wedding. Not good for the already raw emotions.
They drove away to a fabulously decorated car and we drove home with lots of flowers and cake :)
I drove home with my cousin Catherine, and it was one of my favorite times all weekend. We were able to talk about life, and the precariousness of it. She commented on the wedding in general and said that even though many of us had misgivings about Kyle and Brittany getting married so young, no one who was in attendance at that wedding would have denied that it was perfect in God's will and timing for them to be married May 28th, 2011. I thought that a very poingnant observation. She spoke truth.
We talked of God and what it means to reconcile ourselves to His plan when we hate it with everything in us. Its easy to be in agreement with God's plan when its a wedding. Its another issue entirely when its a death of someone you love....a dear cousin, or a brother. A pain as dark as that does not recede even for the most joyous occasions. And so it was that Cath and I cried for the precious life we loss even as we wept for the bride that we gained.
And so God's plan prevails, for better or for worse it would seem. Before you disregard me completely for my poor theology, allow me one more thought. Yes, in my life, it would seem that God's will prevails for better or for worse in my eyes. There is no for worse in the kingdom of God for those who believe. But there is a for richer or poorer, and in sickness and in health. For as long as I shall live...which in my case, is eternity. Perhaps my theology is a bit screwed up as I seek to make sense of tragedy. But if I don't get it right now, I have all eternity to figure it out, because thats how much Grace I have been given.
So in the continuing theme of weddings, we may not know God's will for our lives specifically. But maybe thats the point. A wife and a husband joined together have no guarantees besides difficulty and trial. So the Bride of Christ has no guarantee except for what scripture affords (which is extensive indeed, don't get me wrong). By guarantee, I mean guarantee of "good" or of "happiness". But they take those vows, and agree to endure in the face of either extreme posed.
I guess Jesus already made his vows to me when he hung on the cross, and then sat enthroned in Heaven. When I accepted him I suppose I said "I do". But like the many grooms and brides I've known, those words become real all too soon.
I don't regret my similar words to Jesus when I offered him my life. But I never would have guessed that even in relationship with the Holy of Holies, I could still feel such turmoil and difficulty. I confess that sometimes my anger at "God's will" is so strong it threatens to overpower me. But every night, and every dark moment, and every dawn, its Him I run back to. There's no way out for me, thank God. I'm a hopeless wreck without Him.
I don't know what His will is. But I know Him. And right now, thats enough.
God's will is one of the most widely conversed and yet disagreed upon topics in Christianity. It is what so many of us would give a leg to know, and what so many of us are also terrified of. Perhaps that last statement is an exaggeration....maybe I'm the only one scared of God's will? Yes I believe it is good and perfect and timely. But I've always struggled marrying God's will with promises like "Ask and it shall be given to you" and "the Lord will give you the desires of your heart." God's desire for me is to love him and love others. So if I somehow attain that, then I merit my desires, which means I get to know God and people, and then it becomes circular.
I'm obviously rambling with my thoughts. You will see why God's will and plan for my/your life is a topic that has captured my thoughts of late.
Last weekend God's will was manifested to my brother in the form of a stunning 19 year old south Florida bride.
The weekend was full and exciting. Family and friends arrived and the rehearsal brought everyone together exchanging names. I found myself simple saying "I'm Kelly, the groom's sister." And I was proud of it. None of Brittany's family really knew Kyle but they could only sing his praises. I enjoyed getting to know them- this would be Kyle's family from now on too.
After the dinner at Stoneridge Tavern, Kyle, his best man Josiah and our cousin Brendan escaped and went "in the woods" for a few hours before sleeping at Brendan's. I had all my awesome cousins at my house, so we had a blast hanging out and playing with my new baby Cora.
Saturday dawned sunny and beautiful. May 28th. The day my brother becomes a man and takes a wife.
I was hot mess most of the day, but especially nearing the ceremony time. I wasn't prepared to be so emotional. But who was I fooling? There was one other time when I became publicly emotoinal over Kyle. I was singing at my chruch, and it wasn't even a song for Kyle, but I mentioned that he was going off to college and how I was realizing how grown up he had become without my involvement (since I was in college far away). I started crying and couldn't even speak I was so overtaken with emotion. I barely made it through my song that day.
I'm afraid May 28th, sunny and hot, would prove to be similar in my emotional stamina.
I was the first bridesmaid down the aisle. I walked toward my brother in his tuxedo, the Blue Ridge mountains where we grew up at his back, with the sun well on its decent towards them. I looked at his face and saw the traces of the boy I had shared my life with. But as much as it was him, it also wasn't. I was walking towards a man, ready to become a husband. That eager anticipation of his bride was etched into his features. He was still Kyle, playmate and companion. But even if he ever had, he no longer belonged to me. He was passing into an adventure that I could not accompany him on. He was beginning his own family, and in that he was become more than brother, son and friend. He was becoming husband, the same name Christ gives himself in relation to us, his bride. And that was who I recognized in my brother's face as I walked down the aisle towards him. Despite my efforts to smile calmly and be relaxed before I had to sing, my face crumpled and my mascara ran. But Kyle wasn't looking at me anyway. He had eyes for one girl that day.
She wore an equisite designer gown and long veil, and carried a bouquet of purple, orange, red, yellow and green flowers. She was escorted by her former marine father who wore black patent converse. Her hair was an elaborate up-do that finished off the feminine and and elegant ensemble. She walked in to the song "Kingdom of Love" from the movie "One Night with the King". Tears were streaming down her face as well. But I watched my little brother- on his face written all the emotion that poured out of his heart.
The ceremony was beautiful. I made it through my song. After we exited, I found myself unable to stop crying for quite a few minutes. I don't know what hit me...I guess I never really prepared myself for the moment when my own sibling would "leave and cleave".
But that moment had come and gone and I was still quite a mess. I was quite sure I had regained control of my emotions until the mother-son dance occured. My dad came and stood by me with his arm wrapped around me. My mom looked young, vibrant, beautiful and healthy as she smiled. She was so relaxed, I'm still in disbelief. Kyle eased her around the floor to "Over the Rainbow" while I wept against my dad. Then Brittany danced with her father to "I Loved Her First." Talk about a tear jerker.
But then the music started and the party turned up, finally. I could handle myself with the emotions. Dancing was just the cure I needed. Kyle being the first Brooks wedding, it was all the cousin's first chance to break it down together! We had a blast.
At my favorite point of the night, Kyle sat his bride down in a chair in the center and had a baisen with water brought to her and set at her feet. He read the scripture where Jesus washed his disciples' feet, and then he washed hers. So much symbolism at this wedding. Not good for the already raw emotions.
They drove away to a fabulously decorated car and we drove home with lots of flowers and cake :)
I drove home with my cousin Catherine, and it was one of my favorite times all weekend. We were able to talk about life, and the precariousness of it. She commented on the wedding in general and said that even though many of us had misgivings about Kyle and Brittany getting married so young, no one who was in attendance at that wedding would have denied that it was perfect in God's will and timing for them to be married May 28th, 2011. I thought that a very poingnant observation. She spoke truth.
We talked of God and what it means to reconcile ourselves to His plan when we hate it with everything in us. Its easy to be in agreement with God's plan when its a wedding. Its another issue entirely when its a death of someone you love....a dear cousin, or a brother. A pain as dark as that does not recede even for the most joyous occasions. And so it was that Cath and I cried for the precious life we loss even as we wept for the bride that we gained.
And so God's plan prevails, for better or for worse it would seem. Before you disregard me completely for my poor theology, allow me one more thought. Yes, in my life, it would seem that God's will prevails for better or for worse in my eyes. There is no for worse in the kingdom of God for those who believe. But there is a for richer or poorer, and in sickness and in health. For as long as I shall live...which in my case, is eternity. Perhaps my theology is a bit screwed up as I seek to make sense of tragedy. But if I don't get it right now, I have all eternity to figure it out, because thats how much Grace I have been given.
So in the continuing theme of weddings, we may not know God's will for our lives specifically. But maybe thats the point. A wife and a husband joined together have no guarantees besides difficulty and trial. So the Bride of Christ has no guarantee except for what scripture affords (which is extensive indeed, don't get me wrong). By guarantee, I mean guarantee of "good" or of "happiness". But they take those vows, and agree to endure in the face of either extreme posed.
I guess Jesus already made his vows to me when he hung on the cross, and then sat enthroned in Heaven. When I accepted him I suppose I said "I do". But like the many grooms and brides I've known, those words become real all too soon.
I don't regret my similar words to Jesus when I offered him my life. But I never would have guessed that even in relationship with the Holy of Holies, I could still feel such turmoil and difficulty. I confess that sometimes my anger at "God's will" is so strong it threatens to overpower me. But every night, and every dark moment, and every dawn, its Him I run back to. There's no way out for me, thank God. I'm a hopeless wreck without Him.
I don't know what His will is. But I know Him. And right now, thats enough.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Wheaton to Wisconsin to Wheaton to North Carolina
Two weekends ago I went to Wisconsin for my roomate Allison Marshall's wedding. She is now Allison Miller :) She married Matt, a great guy who I loved getting to know this year.
Allison was a gem of a roomate this year. She's such a cool person. When I think of a delimma, I always think "Allison would know what to do." Everything from who to call to where to go, she just knows. And when tragedy struck my family, she was in the room with one of my best friends Lissie when I got the call. I don't remember much beyond my own dark grief, but I know she handled much of the details of preparing me to fly home quickly. She's just amazing like that.
Allison and Matt got married at Honeyrock, a camp in northern WI. It was freezing, but beautiful :) I felt so priviliged to be a part of it. Getting to know her family was a blessing as well. I enjoyed every minute I spent with them.
I always get a bit despondent when I have a minute to steal away from the duties or activity of weddings. Its never because of the weddings themselves. I love weddings. I love everything about them from the gathering of close family, friends and loved ones to the celebratory nature and purity of purpose. Believe me, I'm a true fan of weddings. But lets just say that God has yet to make me content in my singleness. Don't get me wrong- I'm very content and blessed in my life right now. My gratitude is not lacking, even in my singleness. But this is my blog, so I get to say what I want. And weddings, thought beautiful and wonderful, always make me a bit sad that its not me, nor will be me anytime soon. So there. Don't pity me. I said it because I can.
The Miller wedding was a wonderful transition from Graduation weekend into the summer. We ate great food at the reception, educated ourselves on what to order from an open bar :) and danced to good music and lit sparklers to light their way on into the blissful blue yonder known as their honeymoon. It was great.
My first week in my new apartment with my awesome roomate and friend Danielle Klee felt like a vacation. We cooked good food, watched quality shows such as Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, processed our respectively difficult senior years, and started working and paying bills like adults. Then I loaded up my convertible and headed south for my brother's wedding. Crazy.
I get so exhausted from road trips. Its ironic, I know. All I'm doing is sitting. But in my car, with no AC, and 11 hours of just me, my boring book on CD and the truckers, it can get a bit fatiguing.
I made it nonetheless. I stopped for gas and water, deciding I wouldn't be using calories, so why eat? My first destination: Knoxville TN. I picked up my darling new little puppy, Cora Primrose of Kensington :) Yes, I know, its a long name, but she has to have such a name for AKC breeding purposes. She's a chocolate longhair dachshund, and I'm very happy with her. She is already on her way to being housetrained. However, sleeping arrangements are going to be more of a hassle I'm thinking. Last night she would only sleep if she was tucked under my chin or lying across my shoulders. This meant I did not sleep much.
I am home right now- the real home- home in the mountains, in the country. The air smells life-giving. The breeze feels like water. The warmth reaches out to my starving skin. Home- therapy.
Papaw was waiting at the house when I got home. He always worries about me on the long drive when I do it alone. All his years of trucking and hauling apples/watermelons to the market keep him alert to my travel status. Its one of the ways he shows me love, and I like it.
Sitting with my parents while they watched the finale of Dancing with the Stars, and playing with our four longhaired dachshunds was satisfying to my soul. I wanted to cry. This- being with family, home, for a celebratory weekend- this is good.
Good is a word I've really struggled with this year. What is good? Why is it good? How if God good?
I've fought against believing God is good this year. I was able to justify myself- there was only tragedy in our family this year. My grandparents both suffered extreme accidents and life-altering prognoses. My precious and beloved cousin who was my companion to Poland two years ago passing away of sudden illness. My own personal battles amidst and against life.
I wish I could answer my own questions when they hang in the air half-heartedly expectant. But I do know this: life has become sweeter this year, in a humbling sort of way. This time last year I still would have relished in the beautiful weather I am experiencing. I would have enjoyed my family and loved my dogs. But not the same as I do now.
No, now its as if I've had my mouth washed out with soap; but becaue of that all the sweet things taste sweeter. The flavors are alive and poignant. Aromas are potent, and sights are vivid. Emotions are tentative but sincere.
I have been humbled and I have been exalted. But may I learn to live the same in the midst of both.
One of my favorite professors from Wheaton said it should be our goal "to know yourself so completely that nothing shocks, disarms or embarrasses you." May this be tru in whatever road you are on today :)
Allison was a gem of a roomate this year. She's such a cool person. When I think of a delimma, I always think "Allison would know what to do." Everything from who to call to where to go, she just knows. And when tragedy struck my family, she was in the room with one of my best friends Lissie when I got the call. I don't remember much beyond my own dark grief, but I know she handled much of the details of preparing me to fly home quickly. She's just amazing like that.
Allison and Matt got married at Honeyrock, a camp in northern WI. It was freezing, but beautiful :) I felt so priviliged to be a part of it. Getting to know her family was a blessing as well. I enjoyed every minute I spent with them.
I always get a bit despondent when I have a minute to steal away from the duties or activity of weddings. Its never because of the weddings themselves. I love weddings. I love everything about them from the gathering of close family, friends and loved ones to the celebratory nature and purity of purpose. Believe me, I'm a true fan of weddings. But lets just say that God has yet to make me content in my singleness. Don't get me wrong- I'm very content and blessed in my life right now. My gratitude is not lacking, even in my singleness. But this is my blog, so I get to say what I want. And weddings, thought beautiful and wonderful, always make me a bit sad that its not me, nor will be me anytime soon. So there. Don't pity me. I said it because I can.
The Miller wedding was a wonderful transition from Graduation weekend into the summer. We ate great food at the reception, educated ourselves on what to order from an open bar :) and danced to good music and lit sparklers to light their way on into the blissful blue yonder known as their honeymoon. It was great.
My first week in my new apartment with my awesome roomate and friend Danielle Klee felt like a vacation. We cooked good food, watched quality shows such as Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, processed our respectively difficult senior years, and started working and paying bills like adults. Then I loaded up my convertible and headed south for my brother's wedding. Crazy.
I get so exhausted from road trips. Its ironic, I know. All I'm doing is sitting. But in my car, with no AC, and 11 hours of just me, my boring book on CD and the truckers, it can get a bit fatiguing.
I made it nonetheless. I stopped for gas and water, deciding I wouldn't be using calories, so why eat? My first destination: Knoxville TN. I picked up my darling new little puppy, Cora Primrose of Kensington :) Yes, I know, its a long name, but she has to have such a name for AKC breeding purposes. She's a chocolate longhair dachshund, and I'm very happy with her. She is already on her way to being housetrained. However, sleeping arrangements are going to be more of a hassle I'm thinking. Last night she would only sleep if she was tucked under my chin or lying across my shoulders. This meant I did not sleep much.
I am home right now- the real home- home in the mountains, in the country. The air smells life-giving. The breeze feels like water. The warmth reaches out to my starving skin. Home- therapy.
Papaw was waiting at the house when I got home. He always worries about me on the long drive when I do it alone. All his years of trucking and hauling apples/watermelons to the market keep him alert to my travel status. Its one of the ways he shows me love, and I like it.
Sitting with my parents while they watched the finale of Dancing with the Stars, and playing with our four longhaired dachshunds was satisfying to my soul. I wanted to cry. This- being with family, home, for a celebratory weekend- this is good.
Good is a word I've really struggled with this year. What is good? Why is it good? How if God good?
I've fought against believing God is good this year. I was able to justify myself- there was only tragedy in our family this year. My grandparents both suffered extreme accidents and life-altering prognoses. My precious and beloved cousin who was my companion to Poland two years ago passing away of sudden illness. My own personal battles amidst and against life.
I wish I could answer my own questions when they hang in the air half-heartedly expectant. But I do know this: life has become sweeter this year, in a humbling sort of way. This time last year I still would have relished in the beautiful weather I am experiencing. I would have enjoyed my family and loved my dogs. But not the same as I do now.
No, now its as if I've had my mouth washed out with soap; but becaue of that all the sweet things taste sweeter. The flavors are alive and poignant. Aromas are potent, and sights are vivid. Emotions are tentative but sincere.
I have been humbled and I have been exalted. But may I learn to live the same in the midst of both.
One of my favorite professors from Wheaton said it should be our goal "to know yourself so completely that nothing shocks, disarms or embarrasses you." May this be tru in whatever road you are on today :)
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