A baby. What can a baby do for you? End all wars? Cure cancer? Save the environment?
A baby is helpless.
A baby is vulnerable.
A baby has no words.
A baby. What can a baby do for you?
Why don't you take this next year and ponder these senseless thoughts.
And throw this in the mix - A baby born destined to die a criminal's death? What's his crime?
I walk the streets of Nashville one day and LA the other. And I ask myself, where is the fanfare, the sparkle? Nashville is so little - who knew? And Hollywood Boulevard is so dirty. Where are the cameras, the glimmer, the glitz? Why a homeless person lying on a dirty blanket with soiled socks? Why in Nashville are there homeless on the corner with tattered and torn placards? Where is the shine, the ever constant music? Where? Why do these places look so dull? And then I realize, to be disappointed by a famous location is really disappointment with a break from illusion. We hate when the sparkle fizzles, we actually love delusion and crave escape.
Privileged to be able to pray for Alma and her book and for
Mike and his next brave move.
May God prove to be all they need.
Lynne, I want you to see their sorrow - would you mind lifting them up in prayer? In all kindness, I need you to know Lynne that your crave for escape is always at the expense of others. Would you mind staying present with me? Thanks.
What is this man doing outside Starbucks looking into the air with a worn face wearing pants that not only need washing but have never seen a washer and his nails look so in need of a manicure? There has to be cameras somewhere, surely this is an actor. While walking on the streets of LA and Nashville separated by a month I walk across a divide; a divide between reality and illusion. And I realize something very important, a place holds charm because of me, because of you, because of our real interactions, the memories we have made, our connections, the food, the dives, the studios, the favored places and the unique stores. The legends built around these cities remain in a vaporous, hazy zone, not grounded in reality. But you and I are reality and we are the ones who make a place a place. Lynne, this place holds no charm for this guy. Would you mind lifting him up in prayer? Hey, thanks.
I am uncomfortable - this delusional dude outside Starbucks looks me straight in the eye through the thick window pane. Buddy, this is Hollywood Boulevard don't do this to me. I am suppose to be gawking. Could you move?
Lynne, he has a story.
It is confirmed, I am a sucker. The screen sucks me into an illusive world of shine, glimmer and glitz. While walking Hollywood Boulevard I am appalled at the soiled blanket, dirty socked homeless scattered along the star studded sidewalk. Why? I have listened to a lie. My head says, this can not be true. The stars studding the sidewalk seem, well, stuck in the sidewalk, trapped and continually trampled on. Even the stars are deceived, fame held something more for them than a cement casing. Instagram what? I am in revolt. Please, my delusion?
Lynne, calling you Lynne. Hey Lynne, can you glance over here and give me a quick listen. I am here in this place and that reality never changes.
LA and or Nashville is just another place and I again am brought back to a constant truth. It is our life, your life and my life, the life we live that is reality, not someone else's. It is you and I who make a lovely place. We are the ones charming the small haunts, the spaces we fill, the local dives. My life and your life is worth living fully. We are in charge of creating the shine. So I throw my illusion to the illusion makers and say, "I'll take His to be mine. I want to remain grounded in truth."
Lynne, follow my lead. True charm is in all places for I am everywhere and I need you to stay grounded. And would you mind lifting up in prayer who and what you see? You can help to change their reality.
I tried to keep you awake by playing your music - it lulled you to sleep. I had to take the wheel Cletis! You are one of a kind. Fame is not your pursuit, making someone shine, making someone further walk into their destiny - this is what keeps you awake. This is what I so appreciate about you. Honoring your family - this is what jacks you up. To pursue that illusive cloud of fame, somewhere along the way you worked that through your heart, mind and soul and your game plan is an all out pursuit of the Glory Receiver. You are captivated by the One and Only, not wanting to go the way of the one who couldn't appreciate but wanted it all, wanted to dominate. You actively reject that pursuit.
My prayer for you is that you will continue to pursue the One and Only and in that pursuit you will find more and more fulfillment in Him. My prayer is that you will continue to help unlock the resources and talents of those around you whether it be in the Body of Christ or out in the waiting rooms. You have helped usher life into weary souls, you have given of your time, your talent and your resources. You will always have an open door in towns and cities all over the world and not because you are somebody but because you know the Somebody of all bodies.
It is with extreme honor that I continue to not only pray for my brother in Christ but my son in the flesh. This is what I consider a double whammy! Keep on keeping on.
It felt a little much. Had I been? Was I doing it on the sly? I'm liable to do that but I didn't feel like it warranted such an onslaught. And then it would start again...
"Lynne, PLEASE! Do not take any of my glory.
You do not understand, LYNNE.
You can not handle it. Lynne.
I'M SERIOUS! Please! Do not take any of my Glory.
This was going on for days. And then the visuals started coming - His glory likened to a gigantic menacing black smoldering pit of lava.
"Lynne, you put your hand in the pit, and it will never come out. These are the consequences of taking my glory. Your flesh and spirit will not survive."
Ok, that seems a bit much. God. I get it.
But the Spirit was relentless and continually pled. Over and over, again and again and again. Then on our family vacation as I am kayaking back to the dock, having spent two hours on the lake listening to the book of Revelation, I hear him say one phrase. "Lynne, It is all for my glory and it is because I love you." (And just so you know, listening to Revelation on a lake is a bit of a challenge.)
In one split second God surfaces something I have wrestled with for years, something I have always seen as a discrepancy. It is this - He asks us to give Him all the glory yet he tells us to remain humble. It seems as if He is asking us to do what He will not do. Like, do what I say but not what I do. I have been bothered with this for years and at this moment God decides it is time for this girl to get some clarity, a redirection of stale thoughts towards brilliant light.
"Lynne, I want you to come see what I do with my Glory." My interest peaks. Where is He taking me?
The confusion immediately leaves as I stand at the foot of the cross. Everything swirls into extreme perspective. And now, It all makes sense, good extreme loving sense.
"Lynne, I am the only one who can handle all the world's Glory. The. Only. One. I will, I did, and will continue to always handle it with love, humility, servanthood, faithfulness, compassion, grace and mercy. When you give me Glory it spills out in acts of kindness, it spills out in mercy triumphing over judgment, it reaches deep and wide to save the lost. This Lynne, is what I do with your glory. Lynne, it is all for my glory and it is because I love you." The cross covers completely, explains perfectly and dispels what I thought was a discrepancy forever.
So, In one statement following a series of extreme warnings on taking any of God's Glory, My God and Savior provides me with a lesson, a sermon of sorts, and unpacks and explains a concept that had you asked I would never have been able to articulate or even identify the discrepancy that has niggled me on a subconscious level for all these years. But God knew and He wanted me to think clearly.
I stand corrected and all I want to do is give Him glory.
My eyes are opened. My ears hear differently. My heart hurts.
Twenty-five percent of marriages are abusive. One in four women report being in an abusive relationship. Twenty-four percent of women and thirteen percent of men report experiencing severe physical violence from an intimate partner. Every nine seconds a woman is assaulted or beaten. Fifty percent of men who assault their wives frequently assault their children. Forced sex or sexual assault occurs in forty to forty-five percent of battering. Mothers in abusive relationships said that their children witnessed twenty percent of the sexual violence the mother experienced. Eighteen percent of Intimate Partners of Sexual Violence (IPSV) said their child witnessed their rape at least once. (Source-Darby Strickland's Notes)
I will never let bad-awful, uneducated advice come out of my mouth ever again to any woman who is struggling with abuse. I have learned way too much.
Two weeks ago in Lancaster on a Saturday, with my soul-friend, Pam Hopkins, I attended an Abuse Seminar at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Lancaster. Here is a smattering of what Darby Strickland had to share.
Emotional abuse is a heart problem, stemming from an abusive person's un-Christlike drive to attain and maintain dominance.
God designed marriage to be a place of mutual trust, sacrifice, care and honesty.
Your calling is not to submit to and accept rampant destructive behavior. The opposite is true. God cares about safety.
Domestic violence is a pattern of coercive, controlling, or abusive behavior that is used by one individual to gain or maintain power and control over another individual in the context of an intimate relationship. This includes any behaviors that frighten, intimidate, terrorize, exploit, manipulate, hurt, humiliate, blame, injure, or wound an intimate partner.
It is not that the perpetrator of the violence is 'out of control' it is quite the opposite. They are using violence to maintain control.
It is not about anger management. When a man is selective about when , where and to whom he is abusive, the problem is not he looses control...it is that he takes control.
The oppressed experience being owned, confused, enslavement, crushed, alone, physically ill, feels responsible, devalued, angry, guilty.
Oftentimes what we see is not what is! This is the kicker for me. This is where I failed so many.
Do you have the freedom to be yourself, make decisions, give your input and to disagree?
Do you ever feel fearful around your partner?
Have you ever been threatened or physically hurt?
Have you ever been an unwilling participant in a sexual act?
Violence only escalates and it always picks up from where it left off.
One Love is an app and it is all about safety planning.
You might know just enough to be dangerous and put a victim at more risk - 1.800.799.SAFE (7933)
The Bible does not say to stay and suffer abuse and violence.
Sex Abuse: Rape - Unnecessary Roughness when you clearly say something hurts and it does not stop - Unwanted actions - Causing damage - Duration and or frequency with insistence and punishment.
Does he exhibit control-oriented leadership?
Demand submission and unquestioning loyalty or obedience?
How does he utilize Scripture in daily life and in conflict?
How does your spouse pray for you?
Are guilt, fear and intimidation used control and manipulate you?
Is he closely watching what you buy? Hiding assets? Using your social security number to obtain credit without your permission? Running up debt? Refusing to give you money? Not including the victim in investment or banking decisions? The list goes on...
Abuse doesn't start out looking like abuse: whirlwind romance, gifts-obligation, jealousy, show up unexpectedly, check your phone, see you all the time, sexual pressure as can't help myself.
What happens when you give negative feedback? When you have needs? When you have a different preference? When they are disappointed? When there is conflict? When he interacts with his family? When there is physical intimacy?
You, the oppressed, you are not responsible for another's sin. Your oppressor will blame you for their anger and rage. But God clearly says it is never your fault. You do not deserve this. You are being oppressed not because of your part or current sins but because of your oppressors current sins.
The oppressor needs to admit fully to all past patterns, admit behavior was wrong without blame-shifting, understand it was a choice not lack of control, recognize effects and show empathy, identify in detail past entitled and controlling attitudes, develop respectful behaviors, replace his distorted view of spouse, make amends, accept consequences, commit to non repeating, give up past privileges, understand lifelong process...
Signs of not changing - he tells you that you are the one that is abusive, uses counseling sessions or info against you in any way, pressures you to to go therapy for yourself, he is minimizing the abuse, he demands a second chance, he says it is impossible to change without your support, he expects something in return from you for attending counseling, he is pressuring you to make up your mind about the relationship or to move back in together, he is pressuring you to drop criminal charges.
Resources: ~Bancroft, Lundy. Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men -2003 ~Holcomb, Justin and Lindsey Holcome, Is it My Fault?: Hope and healing for Those Suffering Domestic Violence - 2014 ~Strcikland, Darby Entitlement: When Expectations Go Toxic Journal of Biblical Counseling - Winter 2015, p. 19-33 ~Vernick, Leslie. The Emotionally Destructive Marriage, - 2013
Verses:
Zephanaih 3:19 - Psalms 119:34 - Psalms 11: 5-6 - Proverbs 22:3 - Luke 4:18-19
And to help us distinguish between God's voice and Satan's voice here is an excellent list:
To know David O. Burkholder is my distinct privilege. He is and has been my father in law since August 2, 1986. Today he turns 90 and I am so thankful for the thirty two years I have known him. If I would have known what I know today about being Lynn Burkholder's wife and all that it means - I would have been entirely too impatient up until the time I met the man Lynn! And to think of missing all that I have enjoyed being married to Lynn - I shudder. I can not even. Just stop!
To have missionary in laws is a gift that continues to give into my life equally pouring over into my children's lives as well. My soul is content. The prayers that Dad and my mother in law have prayed for us - we tangibly see today. The stories between the two of them - GOLD. My mother in law has journeyed on beyond, she has left the planet a little earlier than the rest of us. So today I sit alone with my father in law soaking in his stories, his cherished stories.
My father in law so loves His heavenly Father. I feel it, I see it and I am thankful for his relationship with Our Father who is in heaven! All of His stories swirl around either God's goodness and mercy or the adventures he has had spreading the gospel.
One Saturday ago, as clouds are piling on top of one another, my father in law and I are unaware of the storm brewing outside the kitchen window. We are processing one of the many adventures in his life- a time when he and his sister, his future brother in law - Johnny and another friend are called to go and share the gospel. And on that Saturday, he sits in a chair, calm, composed, and patient, while I retype the story he wrote many years ago. He is a such a good story teller - I am freezing, cringing, squirming and hoping I make it out alive. He's good.
David, my father in law, is young, he is brave, and he and his four gospel-driven friends are simply not thinking as they head to a reservation with little to nothing on their backs except one pack-sack between them. I am imagining angels debating amongst themselves whether they should just show up in bodily form and shove them back to safety. The four cross a frozen body of water and had they been familiar with these parts they would have known there is real danger underneath their feet. Typically, this spot does not freeze due to the current. But their guide, familiar with these parts, has left them. No one is there to warn them of the danger. They are on their own.
Today, the man, some seventy years later, relives his story as if it was yesterday. He recalls the exhaustion, his legs bone tired and extremely sore. He has his theories as to why that is. He also has his theories as to why the guide left, all of which he shares with me but desires it not to find its way to print. I try to persuade him otherwise but I know the point at which I must relent. This is his story.
Today he turns 90. He lives supported by His Heavenly Father who has graciously allowed Him to see His hand provide. Dad Burkholder is a man of prayer and you can hear him audibly calling out to God in his home. He completely depends on Him.
He and I have much to accomplish with the book he is writing. I am selfishly asking for continued longevity along with good health so that we can finish this task. The effort is made easy due to all that he has written since the 50's. In essence we are collectors and gatherers of his written material. This is a privilege.
Happy Birthday Dad and thank you for your warm welcome you gave to me many moons ago. To watch you and your wife always put the LORD before earthly possessions or pursuits has been the best sermon a daughter in law could ever ask for.
My birthday wish for you is that while you are still on the planet you can witness a remarkable shift in the atmosphere at Pikangikum. God is a good finisher and He has heard your prayers. I just desire for you to see them answered. May your faith increase to new levels going beyond what you can even imagine.
The privilege of writing this year's Children's Church Curriculum along with a woman I just met this summer, is all mine. The woman, Melissa Lake, is a gift to me. I fire hydrant ideas and she puts them into well ordered streams. My ideas do not stop and sometimes that's just painful for the listener. But not her. She tames the wild as we discuss mammoth amounts of topics swirling around the theme - the Father's Heart. We are calling it God, My Good Father.
I change my ideas and she nods her head and guides me gently back to the land of reason. Visually, I lack the knack to make lessons look sensible or orderly. But she knows and makes random look orderly. She condenses me into good sense. Melissa develops curriculum for her vocation and clearly this not only is her skill but also an incredible talent. There is only one other person I know of with enough patience to do this for me, my daughter Robyn.
The time Melissa and I spend working on this is true church. The Holy Spirit downloaded seven, we call, tent pegs that each child will learn this year about the Father's Heart. He has so lovingly guided and directed our time together.
Here is the Tent Peg Chant I created to be chanted to the beat of Uptown Funk:
What does my Father provide? He provides a place for me! Why does He provide a place? Oh because He loves me so!
What does the Father long for? He longs to be with me! Why does He long to be with me? Oh because He cherishes me!
What does the Father desire? He desires for me to love him back! Why does He desire my love? Oh because He delights in me!
Who does the Father protect? Who does He discipline? He protects and disciplines me! Why? Because He cares for me!
What does the Father promise? He promises to rescue me! Why does He promise to rescue me? Oh because He wants me!
Who does the Father save? My Father saves you and me. How does He save us both? He saves us through His only son! And because He first loved us.
Who does the Father call to rest? He calls me to rest! Why does He call me to rest? Oh because He works for me!
Tuesdays are full on Gazebo duty. I am wide awake at 5:30 am - I lie - brewing excellent pots of coffee - I speak truth - turning on Gazebo lights and putting up the OPEN flag. I love it. Meeting you every morning on your way to school, to work, to babysit, to clean, to teach, to bank, to finance, to waiter, to counsel, to submit proposals, to pick up cars, to do your horse thing, to drive an hour out of your way for coffee, is my pleasure and most definitely my privilege. I appreciate you. In fact, I am living my dream - with you.
Some days you come in dragging and let me in on why. Some days you come in brimming over with good news and you share it with me. Some days you come in with your new baby to introduce. You will never know how much that means to us! I am your coffee lady, we are your coffee sustenance, but some of you have crossed over into fields of friendship. You high school students, submitting a mural painting of an oversized Twin Valley Toddy - do you know how much that blesses us??!! We really hope you win!
Our family calls Gazebo time a love fest. Everyone is happy to be swirling around the universal catalyst for conversation. My heart swells with excitement over all the connections I have made and have facilitated in this little piece of property. The networking, the reunions, the introductions, it is more than I ever dreamed or imagined.
Today, you came in with mixed emotions. Your three sons entered the halls of education and of course Mrs. Albright is the perfect kindergarten teacher for these rambunctious little boys. But this is a big deal, a really big deal and it makes sense why this is so bittersweet. You entered a new phase and you definitely needed Toddys. And to be introduced to the newest member of the Frisco family - does it get any better? Welcome Lila, welcome. You might be the pinkest baby I have ever seen.
I love Gazebo time and tomorrow morning I look forward to another fest.
I live in a realm where I can scale mountains with no gear, swim through treacherous storms with no life vest, race through parched deserts with no water. I can do all things. And the greatest thing I can do is love past your pain. He taught me.
He demonstrated sacrificial friendship the day He died for me. And now He nudges me towards you while filling my heart with a sense of privilege and joy. He sees through your hurt, pain, walls of defense and guides me, sherpalike, through your treacherous heart scared paths.
Every step I take towards loving you, I see Him. I see his search and rescue mission for me. I see his painful death, for me. I see my debts vanish like vapor leaving me with more money in the bank then I will ever need. The geyser of thankfulness welling up from within the depths of my soul gushes out, to you. Don't blush. Accept.
His love multiplies like cells out of control taking over every inch of someone's body. His love spreads like an oil slick invading every green inch of the environment. His love burns like a wildfire raging toward a dry and brittle village. His love invades with more precision than any desert trained soldier will ever accomplish. His love moves forcefully like an unexpected tsunamis overcoming densely populated areas. His love floods an entire planet.
His love is out of control: out of our control.
Friendships in this realm know nothing of burning bridges. They simply know His love's width, breadth, and height. Massive. His love just doesn't stop. Nor will it ever.
David Burkholder pulling his son Lynn Burkholder
in a wooden box he crafted which
they called "The Ark"
My Father in law has stories upon stories upon stories. The other day as I sit at his kitchen table I am overcome with emotion. He is telling me yet another one and I am about to wail. He informs me has something to get in the back room. This makes me smile, it just might be a back room getaway to give the daughter in law time to compose herself.
I am overtaken with gratefulness for the life he and his wife were privileged to live and I have been privileged to know. I am remembering the times in their modest, Red Lake, Canada, home. This is a place filled with love and always with music wafting from the Moody Bible Christian radio station streaming out of Winnipeg. The home is peace and I relish in all things peace. My tears flow.
I am in a candy store, feeling the love, and all I want to do is share all of this with you. I have payed attention to the stories over the last thirty years. And I am always asking for more details. I have listened to my mother in law and her siblings at family reunions. I have listened to them reliving memories with their former missionary friends. I have even spent time alone with their friends and family. And I am now thankful for all I know as I am helping my father in law pull together a book. It is a task with a mountain of stories before us.
Typical scene for the pioneer missionaries called
to the North Country
"Dad, I do not think there is anything for you to write. Instead you are surrounded by your written material. Our job will be that of curator and editor. You are sitting on a treasure trove." So Dad and I begin a blog and he calls it: Walking Ojibwe Trails in Ojibwe Moccasins. Our goal will be to post what we find and hope that maybe you and others might be able to help us with some fuzzy details. And beyond that, his earnest desire is that you will be encouraged; encouraged to hope, dream, pray, and maybe even consider following the call in
In 1986, Lynn and I upon saying "I do" acquired two fathers. Lynn loves and adores my father. I love and adore my father in law. We both feel blessed with these two men.
We were raised in safety. Boundaries were maintained while love flowed. Jesus was freely discussed in each of our homes. People were flowing through our homes as we both witnessed hospitality exercised on a daily basis. Our dining room tables were always filled with amazing folks. The stories we have are book worthy.
David and Robert know and love Jesus. We both have witnessed our dads loving past sins spending time with people others leave behind. David spent his life serving Jesus as a missionary on a reservation. Robert spent his life serving Jesus as a social worker (missionary) serving in a number of hospitals. These men have impacted hundreds of people for Jesus' sake. Hundreds.
Lynn and I are equally grateful for the impact they have had on our lives and now are thrilled to watch them, significant players, in our children's lives. We love having our father in law every week for a meal. And when my father comes to visit he makes it a point to connect with our children in meaningful ways.
We have wealth that will never be robbed. Thank you David and Robert!
We pray, we talk, we are vulnerable, we are gut level honest, we are raw, we are captivated by one another, we are sisters. Sisters walking the line together, challenging one another to grow deeper in love with the One who redeemed us.
We question one another's point of view. We don't mess around but we go right to the deep. Group think is not our thing and I so am grateful for that.
We have met for the last three years at the most inconvenient time but it has never mattered because we get it - we desperately need one another! We are sisters and sisters do that! I love being challenged. I love being with people who think differently than myself. And this is why I cherish these women.
To wake up in Pennsylvania and go to sleep in Rhode Island is a fun privilege. I spent Saturday morning through the afternoon at Taste of Weavers handing out samples of Twin Valley Coffee. I then devoured gluten free portebella pizza in New Haven, CT in the evening at Kitchen Zinc. And past midnight finally slept in Riverside, Rhode Island. Car traveling is my style with engaging conversations, great music and fascinating podcasts. Pistachio nuts, sunflower seeds and coffee is all I need to keep wide eyes on the road.
The goofs - Geoff and Nicky
Traveling with Nicky Sue and Geoffrey is pleasure. I love talking, listening and especially laughing with them. Sunday morning we church on the Cliff Walk in Newport because to not go to the Atlantic Coast when in Rhode Island, well, is just criminal, confessional worthy. The coast calls and I beckon. The smell of the paper like white and pink rose bushes mixing with the salty sea spray is fragralicious.
Funny Man Tyler, The Graduate
Our reason for this under forty-eight hour short trip is Tyler, my nephew, he graduates. His party is on Sunday. Life is on the run taking him along for it was only yesterday, but I digress.
My parents are hospitable, staying with them is refreshing and always full of good conversation. Life is rich and I am blessed. I do taste and see that the Lord is good!
Friday Night Kids overflows with children and parents. The event this evening is seamless, joyful and fun. Children come to the pavilion in West Reading. Nicky Sue and I are privileged to be a part of this moment.
One woman who brings her son every year told me of her recent back injury. I ask, "Can we pray for more healing?" Yes, she thinks that sounds great. We pray asking God for more. I silently add, "Please God!"
Say Cheese, a corner restaurant on Penn Avenue, is the perfect place to end the evening. Jenny joins us. We catch up and move forward into good conversation over gluten free grilled cheese, tomato bisque and sweet potato fries. Lynn joins us. He was just down the street at Relishmaking sure the Nitro keg fit. They are serving our Nitro on tap this weekend. Good call Relish, good call.
Earlier in the afternoon, Saige and I speak on the phone of the new bible study she is forming. God desires for us to be involved in one another's lives. He is moving and we are following. Sisters loving sisters in more and more profound ways. We both believe this summer study will change lives, we are already seeing it.
I must sleep for we travel in the afternoon to Rhode Island to celebrate my nephews graduation party on Sunday. First things first.
I open the Coffee Gazebo by 6 am leaving my bed at 5:30 am, give or take fifteen minutes. And when I take - I rush. This morning I discovered a problem, a big one. We had no lids for one of our most favorite drinks, the Iced Toddy. No lids. That's a problem.
We need to run into Reading to the Restaurant Store and purchase more lids. I volunteer. To stand behind the counter and tell customer after customer we have no lids, I couldn't and I wouldn't. I am often the one bearing bad news. Or at least I use to. "Sorry, we ran out of cold brew." No, I was not going to be the bearer of ill fate
.
So, I drive into Reading and sit in the parking lot for about forty-five minutes until the clock strikes eight. As soon as the doors open, I am in and out. I rush back to Morgantown and as one customer was leaving he rolled down his window and wondered if I would give him a lid.
The little joys amidst the trials. Truly this is a first world problem
It is midnight and I just returned home from a trip into Philly. I love that city. Nicky Sue and her friend, Hayley Jane, decide to surprise their buddy, Abigail, who lives there. Tonight is a beautiful night for the drive in and a lovely visit in the Sniders gorgeous courtyard. My dear friend Maggie who comes to visit me this afternoon decides to buddy in with me. I want to take her to my favorite pub in the city, St. Stephens Green, which we will do after we drop off the girls.
I met Maggie around Nicky Sue's age of sixteen. I love our history, to have known her this long comforts. Last Thursday Maggie and I found ourselves in a warm and inviting living room in Phoenixville with Saige, Christa, and Claire. This was their first time meeting Maggie and it was fitting, necessary and refreshing to all of us as Maggie, a spiritual director, led us in a lectio divina exercise using a passage in Matthew. We all needed it. Maggie is my favorite introvert, I was tickled she came late and even more so that she directed us to the quiet place.
Tonight I am equally surprised at her willingness to hop on the Schuylskill and buzz into the city with me. She is a great navigator reminding me of Janet Oberholtzer's killer navigational skills. We love our time at the Sniders in Kensington. She does not want to leave and after a few drinks, some appetizers (I shamelessly gobble) and good conversation we say goodbye to the hospitable family and head to St. Stephens Green. There, we laugh, we eat and we discuss the finer points of life ( ok, not many at all, just a few ). A perfect end to a perfect day.
To allow the unfolding of a day is one of my most favorite things to do. To do it with someone makes me even happier.
"To listen to an elder and do what they
advise allows you the chance to be listened to and watch someone
do what you advise." Lynne T. Burkholder
Letter from my Writer Mentor - John Calsin
Lynne,
You've said you're busy. But people came to look forward to what you had to say and what God had to say through you. Now my two cents worth.
I was never comfortable with the last few of your posts. Since you've not written for awhile, you could easily leave that topic (temporarily, or longer??) and just take, literally, 10 to 15 minutes a day, and snapshot how busy you are, what's going on--since everyone is busy tell what your business entails--why you haven't written. If God gives you a sentence or two insight for a post, great, if not, that's ok. Just keep writing. Make it simple. An object lesson--yeh. No object lesson--that's ok. Just keep writing. Whatever your business deals with that day, or yesterday--post it whenever possible and keep it simple. Business? Family? Your ministries? Whatever. Write it (with wisdom when necessary). Tell about the environmental aspects of your coffee. Tell about one your kid's happenings. Whatever. Just keep writing.
Yours for the Harvest,
John Calsin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
John,
You never mince words, you point out differences, and you never shy from a good debate, hence - I like you. I have no idea why you are uncomfortable with my last two posts, but heck, that is equally what I appreciate about you - your frankness.
My two year writing escapade fulfilled my goal - to write, to show up, to use words, exercise my voice - EVERYDAY. And I did that, shy of a month (the last year writing was scattered from October till December). And oh, what I learned. The editing was schooling. The mental space awarded to myself daily was rewarding.
Due to the fact that feedback was a challenge with the blogpsot.com site and people found it hard to respond, it always caught me off guard when people, out and about, some I knew and others I did not, would thank me for writing. They thanked me for vulnerable, authentic posts. Their responses delighted me. And I had no idea of the motivation I would provide for others to daily or consistently write. Who knew? Many began blogging. They say creativity breeds creativity. It's true, I watched it happen.
The writing brought me places, amazing to experience. The surprise and intrigue of where I would "show up" was fascinating. And I do miss that daily discipline. So, John, I am taking your advice. Thank you friend.
"What do you want me to know about you, Jesus?" His answer sails me beyond common thoughts and into a new open sea, waves studded with exuberant bright light. I am Moana!
"Lynne, I am compassionate and loyal towards you to the point of death. But even more so, I am beyond faithful to you to the point of return. The everlasting love of the Father exploded me from death when I allowed the Holy Spirit to bring me back. Even though you rejected me, I wanted to come back. It was OUR (the Trinity's) eternal, loving plan.
I not only die for you, I want to come back for you! Who does that? I do! I am the One who returns in love though rejected by hate. I love you to the point of seeking you in a crowd of billions, trillions. My faithfulness is only based on my love, not yours.
Today, Lynne I want you to know - I came back! For you! And, Lynne, you can love like this. Go ahead, face the rejectors, lay down your defense mechanisms, love offensively. I have your back."
Counterintuitive He is. You reject me, I reject you, this is my urge. I have defense mechanisms out the whazo. But His are non existent and He only operates in the offense. He loves me beyond my lack; my lack of love, my lack of complete devotion, my lack of faithfulness.
AND HE ALWAYS COMES BACK.
Only if you're interested:
(I am a hound for information and sometimes, ok, most times, I am too invasive - I really didn't need to know that! I ask questions like it's my job. It's not. I have not received one penny for my questions. But when it comes to asking my Father questions, you know, I rarely do. In fact I didn't know I could. All I have ever done is tell Him things, like He didn't know, and beg Him to do things the way I want. I even go so far and ask Him for the faith to believe He is going to do exactly what I want and how I want Him to do it. I do not give Him much room to use His ways, or thoughts, or options. But that is changing. God excels in working with brats! And He is opening my eyes, in gentle ways, to show me how much He loves my questions. He especially loves the open ended ones, the kind that allows the one being asked to answer how they want. Go figure! In fact, He is directing me to ask Him questions as I would a friend. For instance, Father, what do you like? Dad, what makes you the happiest? Poppa, what grieves you the most? Is there something about your character and nature you want me to focus on today, God? The above answer to His question blesses me.)
We do need you here. Thanks Chris for your soul tunes.
Last Sunday, in the prayer room at Reading City Church, I asked Jesus what He wanted us to know that morning. His answer shocked me. I think of cliques in a negative light but He flipped this exclusive word and in so many words and impressions He lead me in the following direction. Per usual He did not clump me into a group text.
You and I, Lynne - we are a clique. You and I, Lynne - we walk away from the crowd. We come away to be alone. Lynne, we leave the others behind. You and I are always free to do this. Lynne, I so want to be with you. My relationship with you is exclusive, distinct and intimate. I really love being with you.
However, though you and I are a clique, you are never free to clump with others - ONLY ME. You will find members of my Body cliquing every week especially on a Sunday morning. I groan. And they believe it's worship but I call it avoidance. It pains, it grieves me. To be with one group of individuals for years and not mix things up is to not understand my heart of inclusion and multiplication. My friends are to reflect my additive, unconditional love.
I am your ultimate, truest, best Friend. Time with me allows you to spend time with others. You and I always have a thing going on. Time with ME fuels YOU to bless. Time with ME fuels YOU to bless, do not ever forget this. Repeat it over and over.
Please, never, ever, think too much time with me is too much time with me. You and I can always be alone and it will positively impact your quality of time with others, always. I promise. It is never too much. You and I can always be alone for our alone time matters, it really does.
A call, a siren, a thought, the news, a look, a text, pulls me into worry. Deep worry. Obsessive worry. Wondering worry. And sometimes satisfying worry. But I hate it. I hate what it does to my gut, the wrestling, the fretting, it is all wrong.
Jesus: Lynne, c'mon! (He is slapping his hand on the raft, my "safe place.") C'mon. Sit down. You love this place. I do too. (part of me is annoyed. This is my place. I ask Him to come to my raft. Not the other way around.)
Me: You're distracting me. I need to worry. There are some things I am wrestling with.
Jesus: (grinning towards a full on smile) Oh, you just plop yourself down. Look out over the water. Isn't it satisfyingly lovely?
Me: It is. But what to do?
Jesus: It is not time.
Me: Not time?
Jesus: It is not time to figure anything out. You and me, let's just sit here and enjoy.
Me: But...
Jesus: Repeat after me, Lynne. Our Father who is in heaven... Me:Our Father who is in heaven...
(my eyes roll...wind whistles through this prayer, it seems so hollow, like there has to be more, like He's holding out on me)
Jesus: Hallowed be your name...
Me:Hallowed be your name...
Jesus:Your kingdom Come...
Me: Your kingdom Come...
Me: Jesus, got to be honest. This prayer baffles me. Why so brief?
Jesus: We cover the essentials.
Jesus: Let's keep going. Your will be done.
Me: Your will be done. So it's yours. Not mine, correct?
Jesus: Correct. My will, good and perfect. Hey, Lynne, we have some more things to cover. Let's keep going. On earth as it is in heaven...
Me:On earth as it is in heaven...
Me: Ok, so, wait, your kingdom come, your kingdom come into this situation I'm worried over, this angst, this sadness, and your will be done, on earth, as it IS in heaven. Woah - I'm Feeling it. Your will is always accomplished in Heaven and heaven is in order. It is where justice rules and oppression is opposed. There, everything is all right. Getting it - why wouldn't I want your kingdom to come? And I find it interesting that you have me asking for it. You love pleas and questions.
Me: Your will be done. My will wavers. Your will stands firm. It has purpose, wisdom, peace, comfort, power, stillness, activity, wonder. Why wouldn't I want your will. But why am I asking for it? Seems like you know what is best, why don't you just do it.
Jesus: Lynne, we, you and I, are in a loving relationship. I honor your choices. And when you ask me for what I have to offer you, you are loving me. And you are right, I love pleas and questions. Let's continue, you have more to ask. Give us today our daily bread.
Me: Give memy daily bread. This seems rude.
Jesus: Rude? Not all sweet thing, you communicate love by asking me for everything, remember? And I communicate love by giving, responding. You know why this feels odd? P - R - I - D - E.... Think about it. Me:Give us today our daily bread. Just daily? I'm not a planner but I do know my needs kinda spill over into more than one day.
Jesus: Just daily, Lynne. We want your window of worry opportunity to be minuscule. Our hope is that you will not worry when you see your needs but rather ask with intentionality. I know, Lynne, it's a lot to take in. The "daily ask" helps us narrow the time-gap.
Jesus:And forgive us our sins. Me: And forgive us our sins. This prayer is beginning to resemble the biggest, most powerful Shop Vac. It is suctioning up millions of details into a cavern of goodness and perfection with one big nozzle/prayer!
Me: But Jesus, shouldn't you have had us ask for forgiveness before we ask for daily bread?
Jesus: You are too human for that. I am practical. With no sustenance there is no energy. With no energy, there is no ability to ask. C'mon Lynne, You KNOW you need lots of energy to forgive. First things first.
Jesus:As we forgive those who sin against us. Me: As we forgive those who sin against us. Interesting - you forgive me, I forgive them. The pump needs priming. And I am noticing that it is not I forgive them and then they forgive me. The focus is you forgive me and I forgive them. I guess the issue is not whether they forgive me or not, is it?! Game changer! You for me and I for them, you for me and I for them....really has a ring to it.
BUT. IT. IS. SO. HARD. Jesus: It is hard to forgive. It is costly. But I paved the way for you. Forgiveness is what I came for, it's what I do. You represent me well when you do the same. Let's keep going. And lead us not into temptation. Me: And lead us not into temptation. This has always confused me. I just assume you are not leading me into temptation. Why am I asking?
Jesus: Take it more like a statement. You're following it with - But deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever and ever amen. Again, you are stating the obvious-and lead us not into temptation. I will never lead you into temptation but I will deliver you from evil-the temptation you failed to resist. You ask and I'm on it!
Me: But deliver us from evil for thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory for ever and ever amen. Thank you Jesus. This prayer is brilliant! And I love that you are my safe place! Nahum 1:7
And now one of my favorite artists to companion my post - my favorite Christopher Burkholder!
Oh Child
References for your reading pleasure: Matthew 6:5-14 and 25-34
March 14, 2017
Have you ever asked God what He thinks about you? It is kinda scary. It makes me feel uncomfortable and I think it is because I don't really get the relational aspect of faith. Though by now I should, I have been walking with him for over forty years. But its been mainly one dimensional. I talk to him, I don't wait for His answers. I hardly ask Him any questions, so I'm never waiting for His answers. I ask for things and again rarely wait around before I move on to the next request. And though this makes for a dysfunctional relationship, He has made it work. For He is always patient with my attention deficit. I am a poor lover while He, the best, is wooing me constantly, despite me.
Sadie Lynne
To think that God would have something to say to me is one thing. To think that I can understand what He is saying is another. And to think that He will answer a specific question is just mind boggling. So I rarely do. Why attempt the incomprehensible? It's just too much.
But then, why not? So I am beginning this questioning thing. My friend, Kara, is encouraging me to do this. And then I am writing down what He tells me. She is encouraging many of us to do this.
So, here is how it went yesterday. I want you to see.
Lynne: God, what do you think of me?
(Very uncomfortable question, seems pretentious)
God: You, Lynne, are mine and I love you so much. To make you in my image was pure delight, (I am blushing) and full of fun, full of joy and full of mirth. To use my extreme creativity at the level of which I did was beyond imaginative, creative, and brilliance. (if I am making this up I have issues, major issues) The intensity to which I love you rushes past all explanation or description. The fact that you are mine is worthy of my all encompassing love. (upon reflection and talking it out with my friend, Dale, I began to think of an artist creating an exquisite piece they are so in love with, so proud of, even awed by, and it begins to make sense - His love)
Lynne: Jesus, how did I deserve your love? (why am I asking this?)
Jesus: Because of your origin. You originate from intense heat - extreme burning love at all cost. You were created out of eXtreme love. You originate from pure love. You stand in the flow of love because of your origin. The love flows like lava. It never stops, it never ceases. The fire burns eternal. I can not stop my love for you.
Lynne: How have I become such a bad receiver of your love?
God: All that my extreme love wants is for you to love me. True love is true choice, never force or coercion. To offer pure love means to not demand a response but to hope for and wish and encourage a response. My love cannot demand a response. I offer love hoping you will offer it back by allowing my love to wrap you, flow through and in you, snuggle you, encourage you, help you, instruct you, guard and discipline you. My extreme undying love is my son, Jesus, who is all for you, my beloved child. (I can't make this up. This stuff comes too fast. My heart is heating with His love and the encouragement flooding my day mounts me high above the discouraging circumstances. And by the way, I think you can safely swap out my name and put in yours as well.)
Lynne: Jesus, how does it make you feel when I do not comprehend this amazing wisdom?
Theo James
Jesus: More interested in more patience for you. All is love for you, Lynne. I do not throw barbed looks at you, no condemning looks, no frustrated looks. My eyes look lovingly at you at all times. In fact my wrath, my anger, and my judgment is all born out of love. (He lost me here. Everything I hear from Him I take it to the entire counsel of scripture. I am sold out for Him and do not want to be led astray by my thoughts that swirl out of control. So, I am pondering this. Today He told me to look at 1 Corinthians 13 in light of this wrath/anger/and judgment statement He made yesterday) When you do not comprehend but still want to understand I am delighted and patient.
Jesus: My character is extreme right. I can not be in the presence of wrong.
(pondering this)
So this is what I heard, or I should say, was impressed upon my spirit. You try it. Why not? What do you have to lose? And then run it by someone.
Water flowing over rocks, rounding corners, fluttering past branches, racing through narrow ways, this is the conversation last night. It is constant back and forth between tight places spilling into deep cisterns diverging again into fragmented talking, bubbling always into deep laughter. The round wooden table around which we share, in a dimly lit room, is fitting for the life goals, life sorrows, and life tragedies spoken to one another while listeners hush. We are honored with the contents of their heart. Through the lens of us redeemed, we know these chards and fragments tower into a mountain of hope. For, we believe. We hope. We love.
A husband joins us as he is the last of the men, the others leaving to rest their weary heads. For it is late, very late. Some of us leave yet wander back pulled by the unknown tug of the expectant. We are not disappointed. The night is rich with moments shared that for many of us will be a memory seared into our hearts and senses, satisfying all five. To live is to hurt. To love is to share. To listen is to honor. To hope is to live.
Our brother leads us to a solemn moment, he senses his friend's presence. Our time in this home is full, rich, but Rich is not here. But our friend hears him laughing, sees him crying and senses he is proud of his widowed wife. At moments like this we allow Jesus to minister beyond theology. It is well with our souls and we empty full cisterns grabbing tissues.
The night goes long as we have another heart to hear. We want to listen. And again we grieve the pain, the sorrow. But as we end our time in the wee hours of the morning we affirm our assignment on the planet. We are His hands and we are His feet. And we are called to love and to love well.
February 1, 2017
Today I confronted. Dog gone it. Enough is enough. We do not have time for this silliness. So I hopped in the car, pedal to the medal, and made my way to where I needed to go. I do not mind confrontation. What I hate is the mamsypamsey place. The place where we are bothered and say nothing and just complain. I am too direct to remain in those spots. And today I was done! Done!
I pulled in the parking lot. They were not there.....until, uh...they pulled in next to me...and...well....that is when the bravado turned to the...um....the shakes. Oh, boy! The percussion section was intact.
They got out of the car and did not turn back. I got out of my car and did not turn back. I committed amidst the repetitive pulse. They opened the door to where they were going. And that is when I asked, "May I speak with you?"
It did not start so well for my agitation was speaking and they were about to end the conversation before it really started. I stood my ground with eyes doing the talking, loud talking. "C'mon, you're not serious - you're not going to have this conversation with me??" I screamed, in my mind. At heart I am faint of.
Really? I am not moving. And I didn't. They went inside but only to quick peek their head back outside. Yep, I was still there. So they came back out and I continued to talk. For I had to have this conversation.
But then I began to listen and I asked more questions and I was soon able to get beyond "the point." Not only was I listening I began to hear their heart, which lead me past their words, directly to their wounds.
My thought words, ready to exit and come between us, began to slurp and slosh. They formed into, "Will you forgive me?" For I began to realize this person felt that they were damned if they did and damned if they didn't. They felt trapped. They felt misunderstood. They felt unwanted. They felt like an outsider. An apology was their felt need. And I could do that - apologize. So I did.
I apologized for our part, the part which continued to foster their outsider feelings. Sure, I could win some logical points, if that was my point. But all of a sudden God, in His mercy, threw me past my puny points. I am on this planet to offer some love, dog gone it. Some understanding. And mostly apologies. A lot of apologies.
Jesus has judged and Jesus has saved. And that's a game changer for me. He paved an adventurous love hike. Yesterday He gently moved my face towards His. He showed me the freedom He gave to love and to love well.
I reached out my hand to engage in the ancient ritual of friendship and deals. They were hesitant of course but I insisted. My hand stretched firm. They relented and we shook hands.
Another close call, but I am glad God caught my attention. For it's enough. Enough of me and my ways. Yesterday was a very good day on a very sad and heart sick planet!
Her name is Kathryn Marie. She is such an inspiration to me. She is my third child, my second daughter. I found out I was pregnant with her after I did the MS 150. I biked one. hundred. and. fifty. miles. not knowing. Though the rest room behavior was a big clue I had no idea we had a third growing inside. I was so excited to be riding 150 miles just for the excuse to eat whatever I wanted. It didn't happen. My insides were so messed up I didn't even see anyone inside my restroom stall let alone eat. Yep! Toilet paper for me in my little bike carrier all the rest of the 80 miles home on that bike the next day. Miserable. Good thing it was not a race! But this is not what I want to write about.
Kathryn is easy. She is helpful. She is the one who forced me to consider living gluten free. I will be forever grateful. And she recently purchased me a Bullet Journal and a pack of Micro-Line pens (16 Different Colors!). My oldest daughter, Robyn (who I could go on about as well) said, "Mom, if Kathryn loves Bullet Journaling so will you." Great. What do I know anyway?
Robyn's brain is order on steroids hence her ability to juggle jobs like its a game. If she runs for presidency and she is on her eighth child, no worries. She can do it. But Kathryn and I, well, um, it's a bit different for us. We share a similar brain - it scrambles and collects in different order. You should see us in a grocery store, or heading out on a trip. We don't have an address and we are already making turns to who knows where? Mind you, we are intelligent, you just can not keep up with our mental filing system. And truth be told, nor can we. Hence, the Bullet Journal. I am in love.
So, it is a blank paged Moleskin journal. Or it can be anything. But what I am learning, and this is partly why I love it, it is a work in progress- your work in progress. Yours.
Googling this subject brings a series of sites all of which are enough to make the ADD-inclined lie down and rest. I did. When I got up I began to Pinterest the subject. I had to go back down. I am always slow to the party, many times not invited unless I throw it (bitter subject please do not bring it up in public), and after Pint-ing and Goog -ling, I realized I am not only slow I do not even know it is happening. Right under my eyes Kathryn has been bullet-ing. Kathryn, when do you do it? No idea.
If you know me you see me writing notes in my Little Fat Book. They are scattered all over my house. If you find one, you'll die laughing. It certainly will not be because you are awed and impressed. Rather, your concerns will be augmented and, in comparison, chicken scratch will seem legible. There are phone numbers floating with no names attached, nothing. Random words, it is embarrassing. My filing system for this little notebook is nil. So I flip, eternally. Not anymore.
I now have an Index. I have a Future Log. I have a Month at a Glance. I have been doing it for an entire week, you would think years. My life is now going to be so perfect I can not even stand it. Though looking at my new Month at a Glance I am kinda booked(I know I'm early, but look already look what it's done - good bye procrastination!). Boy, it is going to be hard to schedule my spontaneity.
If you have not heard of Bullet journaling I am glad to introduce you to this life changing system. I would love to update you on my progress but it is not going to happen in February. My schedule is tight! And for any of you from my past. Do not bring up that BLACK BOX. It's hurtful. (ah, go ahead, who cares)
LA and or Nashville is just another place and I again am brought back to a constant truth. It is our life, your life and my life, the life we live that is reality, not someone else's. It is you and I who make a lovely place. We are the ones charming the small haunts, the spaces we fill, the local dives. My life and your life is worth living fully. We are in charge of creating the shine. So I throw my illusion to the illusion makers and say, "I'll take His to be mine. I want to remain grounded in truth."
My eyes are opened. My ears hear differently. My heart hurts.
I live in a realm where I can scale mountains with no gear, swim through treacherous storms with no life vest, race through parched deserts with no water. I can do all things. And the greatest thing I can do is love past your pain. He taught me.
In 1986, Lynn and I upon saying "I do" acquired two fathers. Lynn loves and adores my father. I love and adore my father in law. We both feel blessed with these two men.
Friday Night Kids overflows with children and parents. The event this evening is seamless, joyful and fun. Children come to the pavilion in West Reading. Nicky Sue and I are privileged to be a part of this moment.
I open the Coffee Gazebo by 6 am leaving my bed at 5:30 am, give or take fifteen minutes. And when I take - I rush. This morning I discovered a problem, a big one. We had no lids for one of our most favorite drinks, the Iced Toddy. No lids. That's a problem.
It is midnight and I just returned home from a trip into Philly. I love that city. Nicky Sue and her friend, Hayley Jane, decide to surprise their buddy, Abigail, who lives there. Tonight is a beautiful night for the drive in and a lovely visit in the Sniders gorgeous courtyard. My dear friend Maggie who comes to visit me this afternoon decides to buddy in with me. I want to take her to my favorite pub in the city, St. Stephens Green, which we will do after we drop off the girls.
