the shape of hope

We talk of many things. Serious things. Funny things. Sad things. Joyful things. Empty things. Hope-filled things.

Some times when we talk we talk about house things. Not appliances or DIY projects for the living room or yard, but whole houses.

Sometimes it is the old house in New England with the wrap around porch, a porch swing in the front and two hammocks in the back. There are chickens and a vegetable garden and dogs. We live in this house, the two of us, no longer as young as we were when we first met. Her hair is still as crazy as it was, but there are streaks of silver mixed in with the auburn and chestnut, and mine is still as stick straight as ever, but amidst the gold there is now white. In the absence of families birthed of our own bodies we have chosen to create family together here. We wile away evenings warming hands with mugs of tea, and begin mornings with coffee on the back porch with the dogs at our feet. We sit sipping tea on an evening in May, and our eyes and smiles meet, because somehow this day has become real.

While my dear friend Lore is taking a hiatus from her blog for the month of May, she's asked several of us to post in her place. This week I am writing about our friendship and about the shape of hope. You can read the rest of the blog over at her website.

forty-three characters

The phone beeps.

A reminder.

Words, one hundred and sixty characters, max, waiting to be read.

Words from her.

Words I have waited for.

Words I have been afraid to read.

They arrive.

Unexpected, but anticipated all the more with each passing day.

The characters that arrive spell out love and relationship.

The words I read make my heart quicken and pour drops of peace into the anxiety that has filled this body.

The phone beeps, and I do not check the message.

The beeping, every fifteen minutes, reminds me that there is hope and love for this relationship, conveyed in only forty-three characters.

Including spaces.

I know what it says.

I read it when it arrived.

But I let the phone continue to beep.

Reminding me every fifteen minutes that, though there is space between us, there is love and there is hope.

worth reading 08.12.11

Amid the whirlwind of returning from vacation, preparing to leave for our annual high school youth group rafting trip, catching up with friends, and running around like a chicken with her head cut off because I get to give Lauren a REAL hug TODAY, I managed to read through some of the blogs I missed while on vacation. People may say that summer is a time full of lazy days, but I think the authors on this week's list missed the memo about taking it easy. Holy smokes...

1. A few of the bloggers whose words I read and hearts I love had the opportunity to go to Bolivia with World Vision. Their posts have been amazing. Nish's re-entry post hit me hard as I imagined her in the supermarket in southern Oregon overwhelmed by choice, seeing the world through a new filter. I watched tearfully through Joy's eyes as she learned Wilfrem's story and the difference his World Vision sponsor made in his life and the life of his family. And my heart echos Elizabeth Esther's cries, Father forgive me for I did not know.
2. I have the privilege of being friends with AND doing ministry with this first amazing woman. She has a beautiful, honest heart for the Lord, and isn't afraid of loving big in the midst of mess. Her thoughts on grace are lovely and soul soothing. As an added bonus, Lindsay is also a major threat on the ultimate frisbee field.
3. I read Jon Acuff's Serious Wednesday Post on the the search for joy. His words have me considering what things I have used / am using as joy props. "Because I already have a savior. That role has been filled."
4. As I've been packing for five days in hot, sunny, beautiful southern Oregon, I come back to the question of the appropriateness of what I'll be wearing. I loved the conversation Ally started earlier this week, and her follow up post. It is a hard topic, and one that both frustrates and challenges me. Read what she has to say, and add your thoughts to the discussion.
5. Alright. Preston Yancey is killing it. Again. Dude's bombing around the UK and still finds time to speak truth into darkness. He wrote a guest post for the Good Women Project about what a woman's role is in a man's fight against porn. My dear sisters, be encouraged, because "pornography has nothing to do with the real, present woman in the equation." My dear brothers you "have a Savior. The only way a man overcomes pornography is by wrestling through it with Jesus." Be encouraged, your Savior fights for you.
6. After months of traveling and a love that has taken her across the country, Lauren processes her Los Angeles induced identity crisis. More than who you think you should be, more than who you think you are, who does God say you are?
7. Holy. Smokes. This post ROCKED ME. As I cut and paste the link into this post I am sitting at my desk asking myself, and really asking God, why I don't have certain things. "The question is: how can I glorify God with what I do have? Not, how can I get what I want, but how can I enhance God's reputation as a great king by what I do with what he gave me?" Lord, let this be my heart.
8. Forgiveness. Not for myself, but for others. This post of Joy's spoke hard Truth to my heart this week. "When I can forgive my persecutors and desire for God to forgive them without giving them their due…then I have truly forgiven." WHAT? Fo' realz this is good stuff.
9. While Joy was gallivanting about England, her friend Erin put together a guest post for her. As I read it I thought, "oh my heart, I know exactly how you feel," while I was reminded that TRUST is what He asks of me, and He is worthy of my trust. All the time. Always.

looking up

It's a little later than I like to wake up in the morning, but I can't seem to stop hitting snooze. I know there's ground coffee waiting for boiling water in the french press, and dark wooden table beckoning me to come and sit. I choose five more minutes, and as I close my eyes I think, "but you were going to actually get up and read this morning."

My eyes open, my feet on the old wooden floors beneath me, I shuffle to the kitchen, boiling water, setting lunch out, returning to my room to check Facebook and my email. My eyes land on the stack of books by my bed as I pull the covers up and arrange the pillows, "you're up, why aren't you reading?"

Coffee pressed, preheated mug full of hot french press, I climb onto my bed pulling my Bible and a small devotional into my lap. Turning to today's date, I read the first sentence and I see my Father running out to meet me after what feels like such a long absence.

"Hope is a golden cord connecting you to heaven. This cord helps you hold your head up high, even when multiple trials are buffeting you. I never leave your side, and I never let go of your hand. But without the cord of hope your head may slump and your feet may shuffle as you journey uphill with me." [Jesus Calling]

"Father," I think, tears stinging my eyes, "how did you know?" Of course He knows, He has walked each shuffled step as I have taken my eyes of the destination and focused instead on the difficult terrain beneath my feet. With the reminder of hope fresh in my ears, I breath deeply, and choose to look up, choose to engage with hope, even though it feels a bit foolish. Because I am tired of looking down. Because I am tired of trying to avoid His ever present hope. Because I am called to hope, and I have the best reason to hope. Because I am promised that He came to give me to live life to the full.