Today, Easter Sunday, is arguably the most meaningful day of the year for those who know Christ, or have even heard of Him. It's the day that Jesus carried out His promise and prophecy, proving to be the Son of God, raising from the dead three days after having become the Savior of all of our sins. Yeah, that's a pretty significant day.
But, while the story of Easter is crucially important, there is one aspect of the story that just won't leave my mind this year. You see, Jesus wasn't alone on the cross. He was surrounded by those on the ground that had condemned Him, by His family that mourned His coming death, and by the disciple which he loved-His best friend John. While the only perfect and sinless man to ever live suffered brutal beatings and scourging, many onlookers bore witness to His historically tragic, and eternity altering death. But the witnesses of Christ's death were not only on the ground but on each side of him, two criminals on crosses as well.
One of the men hanging beside Jesus spat blasphemy, daring Him to save Himself and the criminals beside Him to prove His deity. Luke 23:40 says that the other man rebuked this demand, saying to him, "Do you not even fear God, seeing you are under the same condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this Man has done nothing wrong."
What happened next to me is beautiful and humbling, truly proving Jesus' identity and loving kindness. The man who clearly understood that he was being punished for a crime he had committed and was wrong, and that Jesus was exactly who He had always claimed to be said to Him, "Lord, remember me when You come into Your kingdom." Such a simple sentence and such a pleadingly bold request. And Jesus, so near to death, said to this man, this believer who was so clearly a sinful person, "Assuredly, I say to you, today you will be with Me in paradise."
These were Jesus' last words to another human on this Earth before he died and arose. His words welcomed a man who had committed a heinous enough crime to deserve hanging on a cross, into the kingdom of Heaven. How great is this love He has that He would do such a thing?
This part of the story of Jesus' death speaks volumes to me in the simplicity and significance of it. Those around us will doubt our faith, our intentions, our God. They may mock us and try us, tempting and testing the very foundation of our beliefs. But no matter how dirty, lowly, awful, or wrong our life has been- Jesus is standing there, arms wide open, waiting for us to come to terms with who He truly is. He really just wants us to identify His sacrifice and accept His love, death, and resurrection. He just asks us to believe. That is the only demand that the actual, physical, Son of God demands of us. It often isn't the criminals or lost people in our lives that cause us to stumble in our walk, but sometimes it is those closest to us that put a seed of doubt in our faith. Sometimes the most pious seeming people are those worthy of the greatest condemnation, guilty of hypocrisy. No matter the case, we are on equal grounds in the eyes of The One who holds our eternity in His hands. We are all the same to Him, and we are all worth the sacrifice He made. He loves us all THAT much.
This speaks to me so loudly, allowing the sound of my failures and pain to fade into the background and focus on the words that really matter, the promise of a Savior that is open to all who are willing, "...you will be with Me in paradise."
Paradise. Can you imagine? No false idols or Greek gods have promised a thing so great, because no such created thing has ever lived on this Earth as we do, and died in the place of all those who are deserving of death, which is every being who has ever lived. That is truly the gift of a Savior.
Happy Easter
:)
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Do you smell that smelly smell?
I've heard many times that senses can create an instant recall of memories, scent being the strongest of which. It seems weird to think that you can be going about your day and as you walk by a stranger you smell their cologne and are instantly thrust mentally into a time long ago. It's subconscious and eerie, but it can be pleasant as well.
I got to thinking about all the scents that draw really direct and clear memories for me. Because I'm me and use lists as the template to my thought process, I thought I'd list all the associations I have with different smells. I mean, why not.
* Elderly ladies that smoke and wear musky perfume- I know, sounds disgusting. To me, this smells like the memories I have of the gentle nature of my Nanny whom I loved (and still love) dearly. When this smell hits me, I'm 5 years old again and I don't want to be ripped away from the memory this brings, it's a strong one.
* Horse or cow stalls in barns- Reminds me of my small town and vaguely what the country can smell like on a day with a breeze.
* Pig pens (clean ones)- warm summer days spent prepping fair animals with friends before showing, followed by evenings spent riding carnival rides until we were sick.
* Wood stoves- home. From early fall to late spring, we always had a warm fire to heat our house and to this day, nothing is more relaxing to me than curling up there with a blanket and falling asleep.
* Spring flowers- Grandma. Every kind of spring flower's scent brings back memories of Grandma's humble, but beautifully cared for gardens each year. That smell reminds me of her hugs and her smile that I miss.
* Chanel No.5- Mom. Classic, graceful, somehow smelling kind. This smell, no matter where I am, brings me back to playing dress up in Mom's closet, and sitting around for hours soaking up advice and sharing stories with her. I love that I still get to build on these memories.
* Car grease and tools- Tools have a distinct smell, like dirty metal. Whenever I smell that, I'm back home working in the garage, fixing cars, listening to the 8 track player and creating carpentry projects with my Dad, while absorbing direct and indirect advice on life. I still take advantage of every opportunity to expand that memory bank when I return home.
* Wet pleather jackets- My favorite concert with my sister, which was monsooned beforehand and was one of my favorite days ever.
* Cigars- Viewing stars through my brother's telescope for the first time in my parents field, freezing my butt off in literally sub freezing weather while I sat outside with my brother and shot the breeze while he smoked a cigar. One of the simplest, and most memorable days with him in recent years. He loves a good stogey so whenever I smell one I think of the goofball that I grew up alongside, terrorizing and feuding with, and always admiring and loving, especially when I wouldn't admit it.
*Puppies- You know, the puppy smell, you can't describe it, but it exists! Takes me back to the day we adopted my drama king dog child that we love so much.
*Patchouli- College. My college experience was different than most, other than my fellow Oregonians. College opened my eyes to a whole new world of savory and unsavory choices and lifestyles. But patchouli, this reminds me of what lax days in the sun at Alton Baker Park, and lazy days at the Saturday Market felt like. My college town was the essence of patchouli and though strange it may be, I'd never have had it any other way. It's woven into my memories like a finely knotted Persian Rug.
*Thunder storms- Not only the physical place, but the region I call home. Nothing beats a humid, scorching day drenched in water poured from ferocious skies. Nothing. That is my heaven on earth.
I got to thinking about all the scents that draw really direct and clear memories for me. Because I'm me and use lists as the template to my thought process, I thought I'd list all the associations I have with different smells. I mean, why not.
* Elderly ladies that smoke and wear musky perfume- I know, sounds disgusting. To me, this smells like the memories I have of the gentle nature of my Nanny whom I loved (and still love) dearly. When this smell hits me, I'm 5 years old again and I don't want to be ripped away from the memory this brings, it's a strong one.
* Horse or cow stalls in barns- Reminds me of my small town and vaguely what the country can smell like on a day with a breeze.
* Pig pens (clean ones)- warm summer days spent prepping fair animals with friends before showing, followed by evenings spent riding carnival rides until we were sick.
* Wood stoves- home. From early fall to late spring, we always had a warm fire to heat our house and to this day, nothing is more relaxing to me than curling up there with a blanket and falling asleep.
* Spring flowers- Grandma. Every kind of spring flower's scent brings back memories of Grandma's humble, but beautifully cared for gardens each year. That smell reminds me of her hugs and her smile that I miss.
* Chanel No.5- Mom. Classic, graceful, somehow smelling kind. This smell, no matter where I am, brings me back to playing dress up in Mom's closet, and sitting around for hours soaking up advice and sharing stories with her. I love that I still get to build on these memories.
* Car grease and tools- Tools have a distinct smell, like dirty metal. Whenever I smell that, I'm back home working in the garage, fixing cars, listening to the 8 track player and creating carpentry projects with my Dad, while absorbing direct and indirect advice on life. I still take advantage of every opportunity to expand that memory bank when I return home.
* Wet pleather jackets- My favorite concert with my sister, which was monsooned beforehand and was one of my favorite days ever.
* Cigars- Viewing stars through my brother's telescope for the first time in my parents field, freezing my butt off in literally sub freezing weather while I sat outside with my brother and shot the breeze while he smoked a cigar. One of the simplest, and most memorable days with him in recent years. He loves a good stogey so whenever I smell one I think of the goofball that I grew up alongside, terrorizing and feuding with, and always admiring and loving, especially when I wouldn't admit it.
*Puppies- You know, the puppy smell, you can't describe it, but it exists! Takes me back to the day we adopted my drama king dog child that we love so much.
*Patchouli- College. My college experience was different than most, other than my fellow Oregonians. College opened my eyes to a whole new world of savory and unsavory choices and lifestyles. But patchouli, this reminds me of what lax days in the sun at Alton Baker Park, and lazy days at the Saturday Market felt like. My college town was the essence of patchouli and though strange it may be, I'd never have had it any other way. It's woven into my memories like a finely knotted Persian Rug.
*Thunder storms- Not only the physical place, but the region I call home. Nothing beats a humid, scorching day drenched in water poured from ferocious skies. Nothing. That is my heaven on earth.
Friday, January 31, 2014
A Woman's Worth
I recently heard someone define womanhood as a female finally earning her stripes through child bearing. Even to write it now makes me a little ill in my heart, and this is why.
At the ripe age of twenty six, I have yet to meet this definition of womanhood. No, I'm not some spinster or a cat lady. I'm actually happily married, and also fiercely independent. I'm a professional with a set career, and also mother of one very spoiled... dog.
But what if I were single, going to college, or taking some time off from everything to find myself- much like many inspiring women I know- what then? Would I be a failure as a woman? Is the essence of femininity truly found in the experience of growing, bearing, and rearing one's own child? This cannot be solely true. For if this were so, then we would be confirming that women who have helped form our very history- women like Mother Teresa- were not in fact women at all, but girls? I find this ideal appalling, offensive, and untrue.
Please do not misplace my passion here. I am not what most would even really call a feminist. In truth, I'm more interested in individuals than groupings of a predetermined people at all. But as I grow in life and years, I am increasingly surrounded by the presence of mothers, and of this idea that to be one is to enter into an elite tribe. It blesses me to see the gentleness and grace of a mother with her child. It's beautiful to witness the melding of hearts that occurs in that bond that is found nowhere else. There is said to be no greater pain or intense love than bringing forth a child into this world. Sacrificing nine months and a remaining lifetime of independence, as well as dwelling in a new, changed body is a selfless act no one can match. It's also a gift and life changing experience that no one can fathom until they arrive there. However, I think the root of womanhood only begins in this relationship, and branches out into every aspect of life, and not in such a way that those who are barren or intentionally without child cannot participate.
The common theme, the main ingredient, in a woman is her heart. It's what defines every person on this earth, is it not? The heart is the reflection of the soul and actions are a reflection of intentions and desires. If you have no heart, you have no influence, no bargaining chip, but to allow others to learn from your mistakes only. And what a loss of learning that experience is, if there was never a testimony of redemption to right such wrong. Again, requiring heart to accept life over loss.
But I digress.
I have witnessed women from every walk of life imaginable, from many different parts of this earth, and the one thread they all bear is their passion for others. And isn't that what makes us all human- the unquenchable desire to reach another soul? Be it through words, sports, song, connection with nature, sharing of faith, teaching of ideas, or simply caring for others, we all have the potential to love and influence our fellow men and women. The young lady caring for your grandfather in his elderly care facility is no less a woman than the mother of four in front of me in the grocery store.
I openly want to voice my great respect for mothers and the amazing opportunity that they have to raise a future nation. However, a child is not raised in the walls of a home alone, but also by the community at large in which they dwell. So why put us all in that box and demand that we exist there? We are women, after all, and our sisterhood, so greatly diverse as it is, unifies us in itself. Can we let that be enough? I would love nothing more than to not see pity dripping from the face of someone who hears that, gasp!, I am childless. If I never have the opportunity to raise a sweet little clone of myself, if I never choose to take that path, I only hope that I would not continue to be looked upon as a leper, but as an equal with value and might, gusto and grace, courage and worth. All that I ask is that you see me as you see you.
At the ripe age of twenty six, I have yet to meet this definition of womanhood. No, I'm not some spinster or a cat lady. I'm actually happily married, and also fiercely independent. I'm a professional with a set career, and also mother of one very spoiled... dog.
But what if I were single, going to college, or taking some time off from everything to find myself- much like many inspiring women I know- what then? Would I be a failure as a woman? Is the essence of femininity truly found in the experience of growing, bearing, and rearing one's own child? This cannot be solely true. For if this were so, then we would be confirming that women who have helped form our very history- women like Mother Teresa- were not in fact women at all, but girls? I find this ideal appalling, offensive, and untrue.
Please do not misplace my passion here. I am not what most would even really call a feminist. In truth, I'm more interested in individuals than groupings of a predetermined people at all. But as I grow in life and years, I am increasingly surrounded by the presence of mothers, and of this idea that to be one is to enter into an elite tribe. It blesses me to see the gentleness and grace of a mother with her child. It's beautiful to witness the melding of hearts that occurs in that bond that is found nowhere else. There is said to be no greater pain or intense love than bringing forth a child into this world. Sacrificing nine months and a remaining lifetime of independence, as well as dwelling in a new, changed body is a selfless act no one can match. It's also a gift and life changing experience that no one can fathom until they arrive there. However, I think the root of womanhood only begins in this relationship, and branches out into every aspect of life, and not in such a way that those who are barren or intentionally without child cannot participate.
The common theme, the main ingredient, in a woman is her heart. It's what defines every person on this earth, is it not? The heart is the reflection of the soul and actions are a reflection of intentions and desires. If you have no heart, you have no influence, no bargaining chip, but to allow others to learn from your mistakes only. And what a loss of learning that experience is, if there was never a testimony of redemption to right such wrong. Again, requiring heart to accept life over loss.
But I digress.
I have witnessed women from every walk of life imaginable, from many different parts of this earth, and the one thread they all bear is their passion for others. And isn't that what makes us all human- the unquenchable desire to reach another soul? Be it through words, sports, song, connection with nature, sharing of faith, teaching of ideas, or simply caring for others, we all have the potential to love and influence our fellow men and women. The young lady caring for your grandfather in his elderly care facility is no less a woman than the mother of four in front of me in the grocery store.
I openly want to voice my great respect for mothers and the amazing opportunity that they have to raise a future nation. However, a child is not raised in the walls of a home alone, but also by the community at large in which they dwell. So why put us all in that box and demand that we exist there? We are women, after all, and our sisterhood, so greatly diverse as it is, unifies us in itself. Can we let that be enough? I would love nothing more than to not see pity dripping from the face of someone who hears that, gasp!, I am childless. If I never have the opportunity to raise a sweet little clone of myself, if I never choose to take that path, I only hope that I would not continue to be looked upon as a leper, but as an equal with value and might, gusto and grace, courage and worth. All that I ask is that you see me as you see you.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
2014 A year undiscovered
This year is ready to wrap and as I began to look forward to the year ahead , I realized something rather profound.
How strange it is that we view our lives as fragmented timelines that have societal landmarks that define our success: Get married by 23, 3 kids before 30, buy a house before the kids come, and on and on. Now, more than ever, I feel the pressure of these assumptions on my own life and feel the eyes of those I know and love upon me, just waiting for the fulfillment of what they feel will bring me happiness. Because after all, we're all the same and should live, eat, breathe, and rear our children the same. I no longer subscribe to this method of thinking. This is a new era for my life.
What this year in particular has taught me is that life is fleeting, but it is not a race. It is not a to do list to systematically follow and complete. It is an adventure, a gift. Every day we have is significant. Whether it's spent watching TV or adventuring around the world is up to every individual. But no matter what, it is within our direct control how we will choose to fill these days and hours.
So, what is my new year's resolution for 2014, who do I want to transform into this coming year?
I don't know. All that I know is that it's great to have goals and ambitions, but it's most important to follow the drive within me that guides my moral decisions an standards. When I listen to that voice, rather than all the noise drowning out what truly matters, I will always be lead to be who I truly am meant to be. Sometimes it just takes time to accept that we don't have the answers, or a crystal ball.
2014 is unwritten and unscripted and I just look forward to writing each page of the journey as it comes my way. This in itself will provide all the adventure and blessings I could dream of.
Here's to a new beginning and a blank slate.
How strange it is that we view our lives as fragmented timelines that have societal landmarks that define our success: Get married by 23, 3 kids before 30, buy a house before the kids come, and on and on. Now, more than ever, I feel the pressure of these assumptions on my own life and feel the eyes of those I know and love upon me, just waiting for the fulfillment of what they feel will bring me happiness. Because after all, we're all the same and should live, eat, breathe, and rear our children the same. I no longer subscribe to this method of thinking. This is a new era for my life.
What this year in particular has taught me is that life is fleeting, but it is not a race. It is not a to do list to systematically follow and complete. It is an adventure, a gift. Every day we have is significant. Whether it's spent watching TV or adventuring around the world is up to every individual. But no matter what, it is within our direct control how we will choose to fill these days and hours.
So, what is my new year's resolution for 2014, who do I want to transform into this coming year?
I don't know. All that I know is that it's great to have goals and ambitions, but it's most important to follow the drive within me that guides my moral decisions an standards. When I listen to that voice, rather than all the noise drowning out what truly matters, I will always be lead to be who I truly am meant to be. Sometimes it just takes time to accept that we don't have the answers, or a crystal ball.
2014 is unwritten and unscripted and I just look forward to writing each page of the journey as it comes my way. This in itself will provide all the adventure and blessings I could dream of.
Here's to a new beginning and a blank slate.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Beautiful
Everything in life is beautiful. The pain, agony, strife, they all hurt and are ugly, but they transform history, and ourselves, and our hearts. They harden us so that we may one day unite in love, over the anger and destruction, and the rubble. So that one day, we will stand together against what is not beautiful. Together we will love so fiercely that anything that may dare approach the barrier will be turned. We will win hearts not by pride or by force, but by love, and love alone. In our separate corners we may feel the weight of our heavy hearts and the burden of the fight today.. But one day that weight will lift and our weakened bodies will be held up by our brothers and sisters that have lived our lives and peered through our eyes, different as they may be, they are also us. One day our struggle will be shared, after it seemed to grow across the elements and the expanse. It will no longer seem so dark, but rather a sheer garment that one can gaze through on either side and see simultaneous beauty and wisdom through the thin veil that was once defeat. Hurt can never be undone, but its scars become stories and stories become tales. Tales carry on for centuries and tell not of what was lost, but what was gained. The great giant never prevails, but is torn down, limb by limb by the weakest of men with the greatest of hearts. We all have within us the power to fight, not in hatred, but in love. Whoever you are, wherever you've been, you are beautiful and you are loved. One day, I dream that we all will accept and know this as true.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Home
I don't know that this will ever be home
From here I do not hail and feel adrift with no roots
Yet on golden nights such as this
I can't help but wonder if maybe this isn't the best place to be
As I escape the bustle of a river city of men
I feel the gentle rush of a summer breeze, reminding me that it is safe here
I keep my eyes on the road, impressed with the colors abounding ahead
Yet when I take the time to look from side to side
I see what cannot be fairly described
Uneven rows of mountains in the distance keep watch over their sisters, the rolling hills
Golden fields of grain are illuminated by a sun that for just one moment
Blesses us with the color of a sky on fire
The air is heavy with the scent of hay awaiting it's journey elsewhere
And of air more fresh than I can ever remember here
As I begin to travel the road that leads back to the city and the lights
I am frozen in a moment of beauty
The sun winks as it goes to rest behind it's mountain for the night
And the sky is left alone, wielding all the majesty it alone can muster
I let the tangerine melt into lavender and eventually back to a deepened blue
Before I step out of my comfort in this dream
It seems that despite my greatest effort life has taken be aback
And somehow, some way,
This has become my home, too
From here I do not hail and feel adrift with no roots
Yet on golden nights such as this
I can't help but wonder if maybe this isn't the best place to be
As I escape the bustle of a river city of men
I feel the gentle rush of a summer breeze, reminding me that it is safe here
I keep my eyes on the road, impressed with the colors abounding ahead
Yet when I take the time to look from side to side
I see what cannot be fairly described
Uneven rows of mountains in the distance keep watch over their sisters, the rolling hills
Golden fields of grain are illuminated by a sun that for just one moment
Blesses us with the color of a sky on fire
The air is heavy with the scent of hay awaiting it's journey elsewhere
And of air more fresh than I can ever remember here
As I begin to travel the road that leads back to the city and the lights
I am frozen in a moment of beauty
The sun winks as it goes to rest behind it's mountain for the night
And the sky is left alone, wielding all the majesty it alone can muster
I let the tangerine melt into lavender and eventually back to a deepened blue
Before I step out of my comfort in this dream
It seems that despite my greatest effort life has taken be aback
And somehow, some way,
This has become my home, too
Saturday, April 20, 2013
There Is No Fear In Love
Everyday a pendant hangs from my necklace that says, "There is no fear in love," an excerpt from one of my favorite bible verses (1John 4:18). You see, I need this reminder to help me fight my worst enemy- myself. I am my greatest obstacle and barrier to success. If I have a goal or ambition, I have always found a loophole or risk involved to help talk me out of stepping out of my comfort zone. It's an instinctual defense mechanism in overdrive that has always been my greatest foe.
However, what I am learning each and every day is that I have within me the strength to be more. If I have a desire to accomplish a feat, be it big or small, then I have some level of dedication and love for it. Where there is love, there shall be no fear, for fear involves torment (as the Bible verse later goes on to say). The hangover from letting go of a dream is proof of that turmoil. There is truly no greater disappointment than that which one can feel for themselves while viewing the road never traveled and wondering what it may have lead to. Inasmuch, there is also no greater feeling than reaching the end of a windy path that started in a scary wood, only to pour out to a beautiful, open meadow that no one else had ever laid eyes on.
In four months time, I have slowly forced fear to loosen its grasp on my throat. I have left a secure position at work because I had reached a stalemate and was no longer happy. I let myself take a leap of faith and take a position in the field I have been trained in and am content in my work now. That decision transformed my happiness in the workplace. I have since also fought tooth and nail for what I love, even when it would have been easier to let go. True love knows no bounds and I am learning that though it may not always be easy, it is always, always, worth the effort. My dream of becoming a music journalist has somehow sprouted in a small, yet not insignificant way. If this passion never takes flight farther than it has today, I can rest happy, knowing that my love for this art has been shared in a way that I am proud of. In a matter of days, I will be throwing caution to the wind-literally- and jumping off a mountain with a professional paraglider, trusting that our parachute will catch at the right moment.I've never been so frightened and excited in anticipation!
The best part in all of this- I'm not afraid anymore. I may have moments of doubt or concern, but my heart has matured and helped me realize that what I was most at risk for was missing out on life itself. No more standing in the background and admiring from afar. I want in, rain or shine, thunder, lightning, or snow. I'm all in. I'm madly in love with this life and I've been told that perfect love casts out fear (the body of that perfect verse). With God by my side, and perfect love in my heart, what can stand against me?
Nothing.
However, what I am learning each and every day is that I have within me the strength to be more. If I have a desire to accomplish a feat, be it big or small, then I have some level of dedication and love for it. Where there is love, there shall be no fear, for fear involves torment (as the Bible verse later goes on to say). The hangover from letting go of a dream is proof of that turmoil. There is truly no greater disappointment than that which one can feel for themselves while viewing the road never traveled and wondering what it may have lead to. Inasmuch, there is also no greater feeling than reaching the end of a windy path that started in a scary wood, only to pour out to a beautiful, open meadow that no one else had ever laid eyes on.
In four months time, I have slowly forced fear to loosen its grasp on my throat. I have left a secure position at work because I had reached a stalemate and was no longer happy. I let myself take a leap of faith and take a position in the field I have been trained in and am content in my work now. That decision transformed my happiness in the workplace. I have since also fought tooth and nail for what I love, even when it would have been easier to let go. True love knows no bounds and I am learning that though it may not always be easy, it is always, always, worth the effort. My dream of becoming a music journalist has somehow sprouted in a small, yet not insignificant way. If this passion never takes flight farther than it has today, I can rest happy, knowing that my love for this art has been shared in a way that I am proud of. In a matter of days, I will be throwing caution to the wind-literally- and jumping off a mountain with a professional paraglider, trusting that our parachute will catch at the right moment.I've never been so frightened and excited in anticipation!
The best part in all of this- I'm not afraid anymore. I may have moments of doubt or concern, but my heart has matured and helped me realize that what I was most at risk for was missing out on life itself. No more standing in the background and admiring from afar. I want in, rain or shine, thunder, lightning, or snow. I'm all in. I'm madly in love with this life and I've been told that perfect love casts out fear (the body of that perfect verse). With God by my side, and perfect love in my heart, what can stand against me?
Nothing.
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