meaning-FULL [from gramophone life]

At gramophone life from here on in: http://gramophonelife.tumblr.com/post/25870440130/meaning-full

love a man [from gramophone life @ Tumblr]

You can find me over at Tumblr. 
Swooning over a certain lovely man in my life: my Father.

http://gramophonelife.tumblr.com/

from gramophone life: respect

http://gramophonelife.tumblr.com/post/23905146559/body-with-fathers-day-fast-approaching-ive

with father’s day fast approaching, I’ve gotten to thinking about fatherliness, loving my fellow man and that big smacker of a word, right up there….

respect.

I’m not sure how many will admit to finding ‘respect’ a difficult thing to do. Believe me, respecting valiant, consistent, kind-worded people = generally not a problem, right?

But what about the ‘jerks’? The crabs? The people who cut you off, and cut you up?

The people you’re close enough to, to know their ins-and-outs, and wrinkles?

Those paradoxical people: pillars and pitifuls?

Well, for one: I find out they bring all of that stuff in me… once I get over complaining at how crabby they are, and remember, shoot yeah…. I guess I’m a bit inconsistent too, imperfect. Unkind, sometimes on the outside, sometimes on the inside.

It cannot be forced. People may demand it, but they can’t wriggle it out of you. They might harass you into saying it, acting it - but you never have to believe it, to mean it.

That’s right. They’ve got to earn it. Right?

Well… No, more than yes. I give my respect. It’s an act of my will. I will always have the choice to do it. But, no more than the love, that is supposed to flow freely from us in Christ, should respect for another be quenched.

If I’m waiting for someone else to catapult to my standard of good to deserve respect, I’ll be in trouble. While distracted in self-pity of the imperfect parts of another, I miss the perfection of the One who is both, Redeemer & Healer, both Lover & Honourer (or respecter) of our Souls.

Respect, just like love, is yours to willfully, unconditionally and generously give, from the outpouring of what Christ pours into you:

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another. - John 13:34-35

Moving time.

Well hello there!

I'm glad you've stopped by.  I've moved to http://gramophonelife.tumblr.com/. 

much peace - hope to see you there!

more the patient.

it's almost like I can touch it -
this intangible grace,
as my hands run up and out and over the traces of the good He is

fingertip glancing the softest touch - for oh, how the softest one both thrills and humbles me
over this life-abundant, swollen with Him
doing worship as I look, and see, and love
and song burst from the heart, out to His glory to Everlasting

I think of how
there has been no ease, but there is rest
there has been no momentary quench, but deep satisfaction grows
and a more genuine smile, a more understanding ear,
a more broken and healing heart, more the patient than ever anything else.

   Enjoying Psalm 63 - inviting you to share.

little rays

peeking around clouds,

tip-toeing through grey & blue

dropping lavish - gold & warm, into our souls,

like a hand to hold,

or a happy hug

You drip, drop, delight onto world-weary hearts

Praise Your name, Jesus Christ.






 

This is wonderful.

much of His peace.

the way we should talk about women's bodies.

(Mmmmm.  Below you will have a chance to watch the beautiful documentary that spurred this post on. Enjoy)

If you are a woman, and anything like myself, you hit points in your life when you look in the mirror - or over the muffin-top at your belt line (if those pants still button up...) and feel frustrated and exhausted.  Or those faint lines creeping across my forehead - the marks of two years, part time and grad education - but not clearly having it together at the gym.  Or in life.

I feel imperfect.  Unmotivated. A failure.  An apathetic steward.  The antithesis of health in health care professional.

I feel downright discouraged! Angry even.  Haven't  I been hard at work?  Hasn't my work been pleasing and diligent?
  How is this my reward?

The tummy that's never quite flat, the hair that's always 'too' flat or wind-swept or humidified, a chest that defies cute, teeny bathing suits, the thighs that are 'child-bearing' in appearance.

Here's the deal with how I'm thinking.  It's wrong.  All wrong.  Very wrong.

I misunderstand my body -

        and the marks of trail over it telling where I've been.  Where Christ has been - and etched His mark.

I have worry lines.  I went through a really terrible depression.  I could have lost my mind or my life.

I might not have had breath to pinken my skin, nor the

   creases, where Christ came and dwelt and saved me.

I have laugh lines too.  Where I learned the names of new friends, and gained and appreciation for red wine, and learned that life was not all about school. 

I have laugh lines,

           because God expanded the stretch of my understanding.

I have flabby arms.  Perfect for resting on a tabletop for hours as I tapped away at keys, letting the fingers be nimble without complaint,

          because God helped me focus on the tasks before me, without thought to the consequence.

I have a tummy.  Where I leaned against the back of a chair, when I wasn't lifting and turning human bodies or leaning into a hug,

         because God taught me to lean on something other than myself.

I have breasts and a bottom that with great certainty, prove the existence of gravity.  And they are just there really.  The comfort factor of the bottom came in handy, all of those long hours studying and writing,

          because God taught me that purpose is revealed in the fullness of His time.

I have the teeth and the tremor that mark me a coffee 'addict'.  And I swore I'd never be one, or possibly enjoy such a little cup of zippy pleasure,

          because God knows our frailties, and how hard it is for me vacate my cozy bed in the morning, or stay alert and oriented through a department meeting.

Sure, I have goals to shape up.  But the motivation changes, right - when we look at our bodies this way.  This film reminded me of the gift it is to be marked.  To be stretched.  To have the gift of holding life within and before us.

  Vessels, frail and imperfect, but used for good, good work, to the glory of God.

rumpled reflection.

It's New Years day.
  I'm getting ready to be with the Body, though I'll show up late...

Brushing my teeth and combing my hair,

I look in the mirror.
I don't like everything I see.

   What we put into our lives, shows up -
Too much coffee, not enough sleep or veggies,
  the unkempt heap of papers on my desk and clothes in the back of the closet,
   plus effects of wine & bread & cheese, and not enough: gym-time, walk-time, get-out-and-run-even-though-you-hate-it time.  And that's just the exterior stuff.

This is a tough moment.
  because I remember what it feels like to hate this rumpled girl in the mirror.
   I'm afraid of the lines and wrinkles,
  the messy desk, the dishes to be done,
      and the well padded-corners - the droops that muscle has now gone extinct. 

I'm afraid of what this relfection might tell:
              that I didn't try; that while my focus was elsewhere this happened.

I sigh.

I don't want this fear anymore.  Because fear will motivate you for all of the wrong reasons.
           It will destroy you,
         just when you think you've secured victories. 
You'll find you're just standing upon a heap of filthy lies - with a false mirror, trying hard to make believe it's real.  And becoming even harder with hate.


Lord have mercy.  Transform me with Your love,
      so that in the rumply reflection there is find love not fear mirrored back - hope, not despair, freedom not hate.


To Him who has come, and who is able, be all glory & honour of 2012.  Amen.