Daddo

Lately, he's been "Daddo",

with a grin and wink that shows my cocky young adult spirit.

He's gone through many transformations

this hero-man, who's just a man

in the 24 years I've been his.

And he wishes, all his...

That's the thing about daughters and dads

there's all heart found-up, all tied-up in the growing up and going.

And he swells with pride to the limits of himself -

and gets frustrated.

But I'm not.

Because, he does - get all me. The Daddo-girl that needs help figuring out how to replace my taillight and change the oil in my car, or financial advice, or a few flowers sent to say I'm cherished. He's the one with the words to soothe a pre-interview worry with a dose of sideline-cheerer dad, and a tendered heart with a dose of if-you-liked-it-then-you-shoulda-put-a-ring-on-it dad. And he makes me laugh.

Maybe because I got his sense of humour.

He's the one to hear all of daughter-me, as hilarious and arduous I'm sure it sometimes is.

He works too long, on too many things. Doesn't sit in the sun enough. And we're still working on the shorts, black socks and shoes thing, and his cookie-monster habits.

But he's Dad; Daddo for now.

and his girl loves him.

hearts&tales.

In the romantic dream of a sage who teaches you the world's and better ways
is where I often live.
With an honest, in-the-chest yearning for oldness,
history, wrinkles to tell their tales
to speak of human life. To draw me to a warm hearth - and tell me desperate stories.

I have no such formal sage.
Though I searched, and beat my breast when there was none to be found:
a bit like an orphan - wondering what daily life in Christ looks like.

No, but I am in the company of many,
and in the economy of mercy - I am one, with them.
The night of my conversion, the speaker spoke to us on the ground,
"get up, and turn around - welcome to the family of God".

I have read Lewis, Augustine, Keirgkegaard.
Theresa, my Mother of faith, Nouwen,
and His tracings scrawl across the lives of the enlivened and upon the rocks that call.
The stories, yes - desperate. The telling of them unique, human-voiced: loud, boisterous, crying, painful, laughing; and heart felt.
Mmmm, that He might make our hearts the listening hearth upon which His stories tell and resound.

gasp. touch.

sometimes they grab at my arms
hands open, gasping to touch -
in the rage of why?
or the fear of how?
the despair...of when?
movement. emotion. moment. intensity.
and each passes into the next.
to be near.

reaching out to be close.
letting go.

isn't this what we all want? to be close, to You.

letting go to the Centre.

worst days are for remembering what you've prepared in all the rest:

Somedays it's just plain difficult.
And I come home angry and frustrated and exhausted.
Like yesterday, after a week of hard hard working. Of mustering the energy to cheer them on toward the goal - of laughing and living with them along the way, though every moment knit together will make it very sad to see them no longer.

Because dying, is hard hard work.
Because it's so much work - this letting go, this living in the full,
this being shaped and growing up -
this walking alongside the grieving, of grieving yourself.


It's hard sometimes to do the next thing, the right thing - it's not easy because it's right; lesser than often does right come with the euphoric sense of well-done, more often it comes with opposition that will threaten to beat on your most tender place - your heart. It's hard to come home with the biggest questions weighing heavy in your mind and short-term memory - hard when they come with names and faces.

But easier - when you remember this is a child, of God - Caller of them to His home, lover of them dearly more, through death to life. And you, thank God! as well. Easier when you remember that He meets you together in your moments of nurse and dying, where you each play your part, right. This, is our fellowship.

How! You are the softest, strongest place to fall dead-centre into. The bounds of the heart, soul, body and strength - the One acquainted with salt-traced and testing-stained faces, and companion to the deep burning angry, so as not to become bitter all together.

How long Oh Lord? We don't know.
Until then, Lord have mercy - hold us still, together.


Giving thanks for:
quiet evenings reading with friends
sunny fall days
my sweet, brave NM

experience celebration

neither you, nor I are likely to know what you'll get when I hit the kitchen.

And it just kills my mother, who loves the 'recipe',

that her child might regard it simply as a rough 'guideline'.

So it happened when I started my birthday cake this year-

that turned into a pie, of no-consequence.

hunting through cupboards and fridge with my nose for all that gives great, unique delight

lemons and blueberries and chocolate;

et, ma piece - nuts. Candied nuts.

and I served this, to other people... who humbly received the offering of, "what did you say that was again?"

finishing with a, "that was an experience".

Ha! Blessed!

To the God who, creates, giver of time to think, and roll and bake;

maker of willy-nillies in the kitchen,

and life,

and friends who will submit themselves to trying a piece of you-pie ;)

walk

When I read you, watch you
other-steppers and faith-walking seekers, followers of the Way:
I see all the ways we are walking before Him
Not many ways to -
For there is One and only One.
But how many ways to fall and crawl into His outpouring of mercy!
And lap like a wee kitten to its spill of milk…
Or a thirsting man lapping at puddle-side in drought.

When anxiety rises at the breadth of my gait - the measure of my steps
And, if they are good and right and true?
I need only remind myself to trip into your grace.
So remembrance rinses away pretense and pride-
And Fills and envelops with you, Graceful Master, Gentle Lord.

what you need to say.

Its hard to say what you mean,
because you take life elsewhere - higher.
Away from the common murk -
from easy, trite conversation
and into the holy of Truth:

Where sin mettles,
where grace might prevail should you lay beneath it,
and where love between us, and God is real.

What you need to say is simple -
and that's why it's profound;
it's why you stand uneasy in it,
for we are complicated in our depravity.


prayers for you and me dear ones, entering new chapters of fellowship - in spirit and in truth.
Happy September :)



Joining Em and others for:

mama's B

to the woman who waited and waits for me
with faithful anticipation...

Happy Birthday!
it's my mom's birthday today.

I love her. She becomes dearer to me with every day.

Every phone chat.

Every tense moment of me moving from little-girl to big-one.

Every shopping excursion that ends in me listless and her frustrated with my shop apathy :)

Every way that we are the same, but "black-is-white".

Every tear and tearing hug as we part.

Every excited long one when we see each other again.

Every pen scratch on the page as she studies.

Every selfless moment in the kitchen where she doesn't really "love" to cook (but man, can she!)

Every moment where she is wisdom.

Every moment where she doesn't know something, and says it - where she feels, and shows it.

thanks mom.

you are you, fearfully and wonderfully you:

the first to point out to me the tenderness in your love of soft and little.

the one to teach me love of water and sand, and sound of tree frogs... or june bugs... or whatever.

the one who goes miles for being together :)

love ya much.

Him & sisters

Just looking back at what I've written down here the last few months is sort of interesting. What started with complete thoughts, and structured paragraphs has changed - into dips of sharing:
heart-hymn,
axiom,
fragment,
aphorism...
I'd like to thank You,
piecer of all things together; author and perfector of faith;
holder of me in the dark and light places.

I'd like to thank you.
Sisters, who wonder and wander and write together -
those who don't write at all.
I am humbled as I am shaped - and He has meant us to meet. to sharpen. to share.
your words are His beauty to me,
your struggles are often mine to as I learn to be
in God's Maker-hands,
and I am so blessed by your acquaintance.

more of His peace.
more of Him for us.

thankyou.thankyou.thankyou.

passing under tire tread
slipping through breaths,
and meals,
and chats late into the night over bottles of draft
thank you. thank you. thank you.

it's where You started -
dark room, taking breath
so that was all that could come out
and wondering...

it's to see days like this,
and night's like last -
she and I sat in the kingdom
talking of all it's new shades
and how we're timid and unsure of how to be in this newness
of twenty-three and twenty-four

it's to thank as we've tried on
hats and dresses -
on teacher and nurse
until they seem familiar,
but not that familiar

it's to see shackles fall in our confession
she's broken
so am I
she, the one recognized from a word and a photo,
and we made friends in a stairway

It's to thank and love for the joy of finishing sentences -
laughter filling the booth with His triumph.
He is not content to leave or forsake us,
we pursue Him with what and all that we have.

Today, I am thankful for:

• Day 101 WOOP!!!

be lifted high.

in cracks
of voice and holding back
we worship

we find ourselves
in melody together

messing up lines
in passion
because we are lost in Him

brought close together
by Him
as we draw near -
one, and one, and one after another
crying out to the High and Holy
finding that He is near
in brother and sister
sitting in the next chair
and on the pillow across the room.

Great is He who unites and bonds
who calls us to together
who makes the joints of this body work to His rhythm
and teaches each part of His tune

Praise Him. Be lifted high.

Today I give thanks:

• for liking peanut butter and honey, very much
• for Pearl
• for lights out in the neighbourhood
• for growling summer storms
• for getting soaked.

clouds of witness

"It's like a ... cloud." she whispered, eyes straight ahead looking, in rapture at the Holy Baker. Only eating cheesecake, the restaurant became sanctuary - the table an altar, and we received Christ, laughing together - reverence for God's (cheesy) gifts.

He gave us eyes so that we would see His work

and hearts, softened, that we might feel His glory

and hands to touch, and clasp, and press together in prayer and supplication;

with pain and questions and anger;

with hope and faith;

with thanksgiving for His promises

His work, interwoven - perfect in our lives,

bringing peace,

unity,

focus and purpose.

How beautiful You are!

How mighty and grand Your wonders to witness.

Friends, how good He is.

How I am reminded when I witness Him in you.

giving thanks as I slip off to work:

• for the reminder to go explore
• for licks of September on summer breezes
• for Nutmeg - my feisty, sweet rabbit.
• for a place to go.
  

lone gospel.

As with many things, just when you think something is becoming clear, you realize that there is more to the picture.
I read Bonhoeffer's Life Together, and it presses - it illumines; it is so small but makes me think so big.

to be alone:
in necessity beautiful, refreshing.
in circumstance, a discipline.

the day alone, to make rich the day together.
the day alone, to push me toward Him, to draw me into Him and
them.
the day alone to work out the plans of together.

and days together to make plans for the day alone.
the day alone is where I confront my fears and demons, and where Christ
begins His ministries to my person.

A common misinterpretation of solitude leads to a resentment for together, and
and yet, and yet ...
Not alone, for aloneness is not good.
Here with my God: Man & Love.
Day-thoughts punctuated by others, for others.
solitary gospel.
it's a good story ;)

tonight I give thanks for:

• northern lights!
• ro-tic time with R.
• chat with auntie.
• day alone.
• sweet buns.

ties that hold

We've been sitting around the table, talking hope for the future.
We come together to be sent out.
So, we will go off again to walk out that hope - in ties that hope, that hold fast to vision and dreams and faith.

I give thanks for:

• walks home.
• suppers with such incredible colleagues.
• ducks catching crumbs tossed at rivers edge.
• friends with common languages.
• tenacity.

common cup.

My Master's classmates just arrived to town today for the beginning of a week-long course.
We're all sitting around, looking tired, sharing what the last 6 months separated physically and connected online has been like. We are finding encouragement in the common confessing of crying and general emotional exhaustion during our last statistics course, and listening to each other's new ideas for theses and projects with weathered looks of determination on our faces.
We are nurses, and we love what we've been called to. We want to see it in God's Shalom.
We are resting with and sharpening each other in shared meanings and words. We are each surrendered to the more and better of the plans He has for us and our profession - taking up our own place at the table, taking our own sips of needed wine (bitter, dry, sweet, refreshing & atoning all combined) - but we are supping and drinking, together.

Today, I am thankful for:

• a good laugh at installing my new air conditioner, when its 18 degrees and raining :) but it's ready.
• proximity.
• becoming a regular at the grocery store. unanticipated.
• asking questions.

Father love.

I saw a little girl racing along a path through a park on her scooter this evening- doing it because she loved it, with the wind blowing back her hair and widening her huge smile.

And then she hit a rock.


All of that momentum stopped and she hit the ground with her scooter.



Her dad was up and running toward her with a timing that would make you wonder if he had known future things. But he's a dad - anticipation and protection go hand in hand. His fatherhood was made in response to her daughterhood - even when she was just a hope.


He loves her with father-love. He kissed her forehead, as she straightened herself, and her scooter, up.


He picked up the rock that had stopped her fun, and the wind in her face. He threw it far into the grass, away from the path.


Then he picked up the peices of her now-broken bell. The two of them chatted about that broken bell, because she was upset about it.


To the on-looker, it was just a bell and a scuffed scooter - but it mattered to this dad because it mattered to his daughter. Just as it matters that his daughter loves riding the scooter and ringing the bell. His daughter loves riding the scooter and ringing the bell.


With his kisses and words, she was back on the scooter - riding out dreams and energy with scuffs of remembrance on it's handle bar and one on her knee.





Today, I give Him thanks for:

• warm afternoon naps.


• the sound of water over rocks.


• voids that make you curious.


• His Fatherhood.


• daughter-living.


• my own father-love, who called me when I was buckled over by papers, work and life a few weeks ago - who spoke his words of fatherhood over me, and who sent me flowers as good as kisses.
  

a joy and crown.

My friendship with L is a gift.

She was the first of kindred spirits found here in Ottawa.


L and I hike together, sweat together, crawl through caves together, dress up and go for dinner together.


L and I chat about life, food, good hiking socks, trees, men, grad school, fish, haircuts, photography and our first Love.


I am so thankful to the Lord to know her and for the plans He has for her as she leaves Ontario for Saskatchewan. He makes us ready.


Today, we traipzed aroud 15 km of gorgeous hiking trail in the warm sun, and enjoyed each other's company another time - in the knowledge of tomorrow, yet enjoying today in its fullness. I'm thankful for that.

Therefore, my brothers, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown,
stand firm thus in the Lord, my beloved. Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 4: 1, 4-7