R&R...&R

I made it to reading week. I've felt like I've literally been holding my breath and gripping onto life with every ounce of effort I'm capable of exerting so far in this final year of my program. And so this week is about rest, reorganization, and reflection - the 3 r's of reading week for me!

I have learned what it means to rest - to find space and comfort for myself in solitude and in communion. My hope for this week is to find the beautiful balance between time alone and time with those I love most at this stage in my life... and I'm off to a great start. I am sipping on my favorite coffee blend, listening to a wonderful collection of tunes, collecting my thoughts and giving them life through the movement of my fingers upon this overused keyboard. I am wrapped up in my favorite animal print blanket - one of the first things I bought during our time in Uganda - staring out my favorite window in our apartment. Moses is sitting here with me. We've been through quite a bit together. He has been a part of my journey for 12 years now. He doesn't say much - actually he doesn't say anything at all. Yet, his presence has perhaps been the most consistent aspect of my life as I've journeyed through my early adulthood. It is restful for me to sit here with him right beside me.



Reorganization will come when I begin to feel the need to be productive. It usually consists of cleaning like mad and mapping out the remainder of the term (which means constructing a calendar that outlines what I should be reading and how much of it I should be reading nearly everyday until the end of the term). Organization has always been a way for me to experience some sense of order amidst the chaos of my life -- and God knows I'm in desperate need of some order at this stage of my life as a student, intern, mother, wife and occasional friend (though this area seems to be suffering from the chaos the most).

I have a sense that it is reflection that is most needed this week...and most difficult at the same time. Strange how that is often the case. My brief return to Colorado just over a week ago opened up an awareness of my current state of homelessness that is as equally saddening as it is frightening. It's been over three years since I left the only life I had ever really known in Littleton, Colorado. And I don't think I was prepared for just how much I could change in a relatively short period of time. These last three years have not been normal years - they have been filled with life-altering experiences. From my transition out of my role at WBCC, exposure to the suffering and circumstances of the women and children of Uganda, the six months I spent living with my father (the most time I've ever spent with him consecutively since I was 5 years old), to the revelations discovered about myself and my relationships upon entering into the program at MHGS -- it has been one heck of a roller coaster experience. Much has changed...and much has quite simply only begun to emerge.

Who will I be once I leave this place? What will I do? Who will I be able to connect with? How will I continue to move forward in this process of emerging as a self in order to experience more genuine relationships in all areas of my life? These are the questions swimming around in my head. These are the unknowns that heighten my anxiety. Though my love for those who have been an integral part of my life was felt deeply and perhaps even more intensely than ever before during my brief visit in CO, my rootedness in that community has evidently dissipated.

I feel like this tree that I am staring at just outside my window. It has apparently tried to desperately hold onto the few remaining golden leaves left hanging by a thread. Each time the wind blows, more beautiful glimmering leaves fall to the ground. The leaves that have filled up the life of this tree in the past are coming to their end. But I am afraid of the winter that will certainly approach quickly after all of the leaves have been stripped. But I know that for there to be new life, there must be a certain kind of death. I just hope that I can hold onto the hope of resurrection as the chill of the winter sets in deep within my bones.

Am I one of the trees born of Thee –
The Sun, The Rain, and The Earth?
This – what I long to know, to grow, to love-
This is my question for You, of You, by You.
Will You answer me JUST this once,
Or have You answered already
In ways I’ve yet to hear?

I have heard it once said -
You are the vine and I am the branch.
But how can this be –
Am I just an extension of Thee?
They say you are a HE
So then where is the ME that is not a HE?
Am I the leaf, the adornment of the branch
For whom most of the HEs claim to be?

Am I one of the trees born of Thee –
The Sun, The Rain, and The Earth?
This – what I long to know, to grow, to love-
This is my question for You, of You, by You.
Will You answer me JUST this once,
Or have You answered already
In ways I’ve yet to hear?

If I am a tree born of all three of Thee,
Could it be that I am then somehow a me -
Created through, for and in your miraculous
Conception, intersection, interpenetration?
If this is the truth of how I came to be,
Then why can’t I find my way
Back to the safety, security, synchronicity
Of your womb of three?
Why must I be ME and not hide in Thee?

Am I one of the trees born of Thee –
The Sun, The Rain, and The Earth?
This – what I long to know, to grow, to love-
This is my question for You, of You, by You.
Will You answer me JUST this once,
Or have You answered already
In ways I’ve yet to hear?

If I am a tree and You are Thee,
The Sun, The Rain and The Earth
Then might you explain this to me –
Created out of, into, or both/and,
Where are You and Me and We?
You see, this is the dance we do – You and Me,
Sun, Rain, Earth, Vines, Branches, Leaves and All

Am I one of the trees born of Thee –
The Sun, The Rain, and The Earth?
This – what I long to know, to grow, to love-
This is my question for You, of You, by You.
Will You answer me Just this once,
Or have You answered already
In the dance of WE?

Theology Project

I've been up late tonight working on this project for my theology class. It's an assignment that has consumed much of my thoughts in the past month. We were asked to creatively construct a "map" to illustrate our current understanding or questioning in regard to God in the context of relationship with Humanity...or more pointedly - God in relation to myself. Although poetry was my primary medium for this project (which allowed me an opportunity to open the questions up even moreso internally), I did attempt to draw something. Lauren, I thought you would be proud of me so I decided to post a little picture for your viewing.

Like it...link it

For those friends/readers that have an appreciation for creativity - check out this blog I came accross recently as well as the blog of a fellow MHGS student who does amazing things with his camera!

What does it mean to be human?

Our adaptability and self-transcendence work together to rob us of any sense of identity that can be derived from the world. Plasticity means that we lack a biological "home" in the cosmos. Other living beings have a discoverable "niche" in the biological framework. But biologists have yet to discover a set role for
humankind that explains our purpose for existence.

At the same time, our adaptability and self-transcedence mean that we enjoy the unique possiblity of continually experiencing our environment in new ways. We can project, envision, and plan for an existence "beyond" any "world" we create.

But for this reason, we are never completely fulfilled by any one achievment or by any one "world" we fashion as a "home" for ourselves. Rather than being at home in the world, we are continually on the move to something yet undefined. We are always seeking the new, the "future," the not yet. We continually chase that illusive "something" which surpasses the here-and-now or the status quo. We are continually shaping and reshaping our envirnoment in an unfulfilled attempt to create a "home" for ourselves.
~Stanley Grenz, Created for Community

I was reminded of this excerpt yesterday as I sat in my theology class and contemplated the notion that human beingness is about a process of becoming. These concepts are still floating around in my head and are only in the beginning stages of forming a lens for which I can peer through to make sense of life from a new vantage point...but I thought it was worth posting for others to contemplate as well.

The latest in politics...

I know that I'm long overdue for a new post...and we have internet up and running so there are no more excuses.

But for now, I'm just going to post this little video for your viewing. Feel free to ponder and respond with your thoughts!

The life of a Mommy Grad Student Intern

I'm realizing that it is going to be more of a challenge to keep up with blogging in the final stage of this three year adventure! Plus, it hasn't helped that we have had no access to internet in our new(er) apartment for the past couple of weeks. We were tapping into somebody else's wireless when we first moved in and we're pretty sure they either moved or wised up and password protected their connection. Too bad for us. So it will be a few days before we have internet (other than on our phones). It's amazing how much we've grown to rely upon something that I was officially introduced to when I was in high school - which wasn't really that long ago. Seriously...it's only been 16 years since I was a freshman in high school and signed up for my first aol account under the alias cheergirl or something like that! Okay maybe 16 years is a long enough to develop a dependency.

As I've already alluded to, life is pretty darn crazy right now. I've completed two weeks of internship and school and I've been off to a running start. I'm just praying that I can maintain the pace from now until Christmas when I'll have a brief interlude. So many thoughts have been racing through my head and I have a list of about five different blog-worthy stories or ideas...but of course I don't have the list with me right now as I'm sitting in Panera frantically attempting to get my internet-fix for the day! So instead I'll have to simply share the stirrings floating around in my head and piercing my heart in this moment.

Throughout this term I'll be insanely busy from morning till night every weekday except for Thursdays. Yesterday was my first official day off while all the kids and Bri are at school. I thought that dropping Krisalyn off at school for her first day of all-day kindergarten last Friday was going to be the BIG CRY day...but was surprised that the tears only lasted through my drive to my internship and for a few minutes after my arrival as I explained to my supervisor the significance of that day. The crying my have been prematurely cut-off because of the pressure to prepare myself for my first client later that day. Whatever the reason, I managed to cope (or distract myself) rather well that day. Suffice it to say, I was not expected to be nearly as emotional as I was yesterday after dropping the girls off at school and realizing that I would be alone for the entire day.

When I boarded the plane for my first trip to Uganda (when I went for 10 days by myself simply to become more familiar with the widow's plight so that I might assist in the development of a daily devotional or as I like to call it - Readings for Encouragment and Empowerment, something unexpected occurred. As soon as the doors of the plane were closed and securely locked I felt a lump surface in my chest -- not because I was afraid to fly or nervous about what I might encounter in the following 30+ hours of traveling, nor did I sense that it was linked solely with the anticipation of missing my girls and their daddy horribly. Instead, I sensed that it had something to do with realizing that I had not spent that much time to myself EVER in my life. I know that must sound like a ridiculous exagerration, but to my knowledge I had never spent more than a few hours in isolation (other than time spent sleeping at night and even in those times Lindsey and I often made our way to one another's bedrooms late at night in search of the comfort we found in one another's nearness). Without going off on too big of a tangent, the time I had to myself during that season of my life enabled me to begin peering into some dark and frightening doors to my heart that the constant presence of companions had distracted me from for far too long.

As I dropped Krisalyn off at her class yesterday morning I discovered that the uncomfortable and rather telling chest lump had decided to pay me another visit. But this time, I recalled the powerful nature of the time I spent alone on my way to Uganda, and I willingly allowed the lump to grow into an ache which permeated my entire body. It was an absolutely beautiful and wonderful day that consisted of two separate raw and honest conversation with great friends, a lot of cleaning (which obviously included singing loudly, dancing and more tears), and sitting on the little bench we have on our patio and refraining from dissociating for at least those moments. In those moments both joy and sorrow seemed to kiss, twirl and dip. How much I have loved the last nine years of my journey of motherhood - years of no sleep, diaper-changing, terrible (yet wonderful) twos, first smiles, first words, first recitals, first fears, first trips to the ER, first "you're mean Mommy"'s, trips to the zoo, finger painting, cookie-baking, fairy festivals, pumpkin carving, teething, personalized haircuts, and rituals of animal kisses and "how much does Mommy love you"'s.

Though many memories are yet to be made and I my role as a mommy has really only just begun in the big scheme of things, the season of having little ones at home has come to an end (at least for now). Bri and I are both still unsure of the journey ahead and whether or not we'll add to our already highly estrogen-dominant clan. But whatever happens, I am sure of one thing...I am an incredibly blessed woman to have shared in the lives of these three beautiful, strong and lovely little ladies. And I hope that this season of my life affords me the time and space to recover who I am behind all of those dark doors that have been avoided for far too long.