Author Archives: Life is For Living book

Who is a Mother? Part II

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If you sit with empty arms on Mother’s Day, and your life feels devoid of beauty and miracles, ask God for opportunities to be His reflection of love and nurture.

In Isaiah 54:1, He promises that the childless woman will have more children than the mother with a husband and family. God keeps His word in amazing ways—try Him and see! When I asked God to help me be as Christ to people, He gave me opportunities that I would never have imagined. But, as all birth mothers know,  high callings and great privileges come with the price of servanthood and selfless love, and sometimes the cost makes me stagger.

After the Emmaus walk with Jesus, it was in the breaking of the bread that the men recognized Him. If we women symbolize bread as nourishment for our world, it is in the breaking of that bread that Christ is made visible. Spiritually broken and consumed in hidden, thankless, ordinary places, we are part of a calling that is bigger than any of us—the privilege of introducing the real Christ to people for whom He may be only a dusty relic.

Motherhood—nurturing in brokenness—is a beautiful but demanding calling to which childless women are not exempt.  This calling is not just a spare hole to fill in life’s puzzle. It is the whole purpose for which He created us women.

Following Christ’s example of love and service can make us feel drained and exhausted. But God anticipated these feelings of being used and spent. In Isaiah 58: 10 & 11, He promises that if we spend ourselves in behalf of others, He will satisfy our souls in return. While we pour out our lives as Christ did, God pours out even more life to us. We can never out-give Him!

And His care is not only spiritual or intangible or theoretical. He sends people at just the right time to remind us of our worth and help us feel the sun on our shoulders.

When my sister-in-law became a mother and was looking forward to celebrating Mother’s Day for her first time, she anticipated how some of us would feel, and she ordered a bouquet for the church house. After the Mother’s Day service, all the ladies who encouraged and influenced younger ones were invited to choose a flower from the bouquet to take home.

I chose a white tulip—white to symbolize purity and a tulip to symbolize hope. Because hope does good things to my heart even if I’m never given what I long for. And I can know that even if the shape of my life is different from most women my age, my calling still carries value and beauty.

It is Mother’s Day and I am not a mother. But because I am God’s daughter and want to reflect His character of care and nurture to a world devoid of these virtues, my identity is already sure. My value is not based on how many babies I have borne. That He should trust His perfect character to be reflected by this fallible, easily-distracted lady is a high honor indeed.

For this privilege, I thank Him today.

Yesterday: Part I

Who is a Mother?

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It is Mother’s Day and I am not a mother. Other ladies open their pretty cards, and cuddle their babies. Bouquets declare it and preachers proclaim it: today mothers are the most special, honoured people in the world.

But my arms are empty and so are many of my friends’ arms. Who are we on Mother’s Day if we don’t have babies to cuddle or older children to give us flowers and fancy cards? Are we extras in the play, supporters of the star roles?

We are women. And being made in God’s image, we are life-givers. Because of His power in us, we give birth to miracles. And not necessarily biologically. The miracles don’t always involve babies. But when our life goal is to accurately reflect God’s character, we will be nurturers in some way.

In creative ways, in diverse ways, in beautiful ways.

A school teacher patiently tutors a slow learner. A girl writes notes to encourage a homesick room-mate. A shop keeper befriends a lively family. A pat on a child’s head, a smile for the cleaning lady at the mall, patience with co-worker’s prattle, a chat with a widow: all are tokens of the life-giving love and self-forgetful acts that characterize mothers.

No woman is exempt from these privileges.

It was women who followed Jesus to the cross when His disciples ran away. It was women, crushed with grief, who came to the tomb to do the last thing they could for Him. To accompany loved ones and care deeply for them even at great cost, this is what it means to be a woman and a mother.

Besides nurturing people who enter our world, we also nurture attitudes that shape our hearts. We can nurse grudges and complaints. Or we can incubate gratitude and acceptance that will spill out into our world and shape it. We nurture feelings just because we’re human, and we nurture Christ-like virtues because He has made us holy.

Tomorrow: Part II

The Road Goes Ever On

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Last year, on the first Friday of May, I was in Rome.

It was the only day in my life that I ate (at least) three servings of gelato. It was glorious weather, and I soaked up the crazy, happy, loud atmosphere. I was touring there with a friend and her son, with reservations for 4 days. But I had only Friday there because my grandpa died that night. I’ll always be grateful that we had  lived that day so expansively, so thoroughly and freely.

The next day, travelling home alone and dealing with rude airline agents, part of my heart broke and died. The part of myself that always thrilled to step onto a plane or train or bus, ticket in hand, was gone, and stayed gone for the rest of the year. I flew several places after that, and always with dread and whimpering, even tears.

It was many things. Losing my gentle, globe-trotting grandpa. Disappointment of leaving Italy so soon. Later, it was about not having energy to travel. At Christmas, it was wonderful to fly home but having just had surgery and needing a wheelchair gave me a kind of identity crisis. Plane tickets started feeling like a bother. It didn’t help when one flight cancelled just as I was ready to leave for the airport in the middle of the night. Airports became something to endure, airline staff couldn’t wait to call me out on something.

I missed the thrill. I missed not being excited to travel when I had the chance. It didn’t feel like me. For most of a year, I wondered if I would ever really want to travel again.

Slowly, it came seeping back.

In February, I felt new energy, new impetus to fly. It helped that I wasn’t alone, and when Janelle and I stepped onto the jet-way in San Diego, we could smell the humid sea air, and suddenly that dead part of my heart felt warm again. We stood outside waiting for our bus, and watched the gulls and palm trees, and met friendly people, and then it came back to me– why I love to explore the far horizon.

It was confirmed when I flew back to Poland, via Amsterdam.  What other airport has an art gallery and museum, and a cafe where the booths are giant delft cups? I fell in love again with Holland. With travelling. With bags and airline workers and tickets and arrival times.

Not everyone has to travel to have a good life but I will never live long enough to see every place I want to.  Travelling isn’t a right for me to demand, so I’m grateful beyond words for the opportunities I’ve had. It has expanded my soul to talk with other people, observe different lifestyles, eat new food.

Especially gelato.

 

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Our Roads Converged

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Jewel and I were hungry for kebabs so we trotted down the street to the doner kebab shop that’s on the road we live on.  It’s pretty heady, really, to think about being able to follow the road west to Berlin and Paris and east to Moscow if we’d go far enough.

The man at the counter was taking my order (cięnki, z kurczakiem, sos mieszana) and suddenly he said in English, “You’re not Polish. How long you live in Poland? You speak Polish well. I’ve lived here two years, and I understand everything but I still don’t speak Polish well.”

I told him I’ve lived here three and a half years, and I understand how he feels, because I understand more than I’m able to speak. He said he’s from Egypt, and I said I dream of travelling there, and he said that would be nice, but the economic situation there isn’t good right now. “Are you happy here?” I asked. He nodded, avoiding my eyes. “I live here because my wife is from here.”

Later, I stood where he was preparing our food. With no warning, he turned to me and spit out, “I HATE this country. I lived in Holland for six and a half years and you can have a wonderful life with everything there. I HATE this country.”

The venom in his voice and fire in his eyes took me aback.  I asked why he hates Poland. “People here are aggressive.” I didn’t comment on that, but said I think that in general people in Holland and Ireland seem friendlier and happier than here. “They’re racist here,” he said, and the way he spat the words broke my heart. I said I’m so sorry, and I haven’t experienced racism myself, but it’s a terrible thing. “I’m going to wait some time, then I’m going back to Holland.” His posture told me he was ready to defend his decision had I tried to dissuade him.

The kebab and cold Coke was wonderful comfort food, a splurge for a Friday night on a holiday weekend, but I was heart-sick, remembering the shards of his words. We’ll be back down the street for that good food, but the real reason will be to have a chance to talk with the sad man from Egypt.

All the roads of the world should unite us, not divide.

 

 

 

Sand and Stories

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I bought ten tulips, pink and yellow, at the market. The lady who sold them to me wrapped them expertly in rustly cellophane, gathered everything together at the bottom with a rubber band, and I carried them home proudly. I love carrying flowers!

At home, I unwrapped them and trimmed several inches off the stems in order to arrange them in a glass jar. My work space got gritty. Sand. Ah! The tulips came from Holland. Reclaimed sea. Hence the sand. I’ve been there. The tulip boxes at the market were marked “Alsmeer.” I know where that is in Holland, have walked through the tulip fields, got the sand on my shoes. The sand on the kitchen counter was Dutch sand. How exotic is that?

I’m reading Michael O”Brien’s A Father’s Tale. I’m hardly past the first sixth of the tome, but already it is delicious and deep and aching though not nearly as hard a read as his Island of the World. Today I read of Alex’s journey to Oxford in search of his son who was studying there. It takes me back several years when I was visiting a friend and she took me around Oxford for a day, and I fell in love with the place. I had fish and chips in the Rabbit Room at the Eagle and Child. Even while I ate, I couldn’t believe I was there.

There are probably a million things that that play into what shapes a person. I believe that part of this shaping is a combination of all the books we’ve read and the places we’ve been to. Having been at Alsmeer and the Bodleian Library shaped my perception and understanding of the things I encountered this week.

In addition to books and travels, we are also a product of our own choices. I had opportunities to travel, and I chose to take them. I have other opportunities every day. Choosing to say ‘yes’ to something means saying ‘no’ to something else, and each decision affects the shape of my life.

Choices this week:

  • unsubscribed to good newsletters that talk about good things, but don’t address matters that I really need to focus on.
  • walked past used clothing stores even when I have time to shop, because I’m not buying clothes for myself for a year.
  • journaled extensively.
  • lowered my lecturing teacher voice, sat down, and laughed with my students.
  • read in the morning sun.
  • dreamed about travelling to see China’s stone mountains and India’s bougainvillea, saris, and elephants.

Because dreams shape us too, don’t you doubt it for a second.

Travelling, books, choices, dreams–some of the infinite amount of things that make me who I am. Which means that I’ll probably always have itchy feet but also that I’m always changing.

Which is a good thing.

 

Related posts: Oxford of the Dreaming Spires

 

On Eating Books

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A couple days ago,  a friend emailed to ask my opinion about several Christian books and their critiques. She heard they had questionable messages, and didn’t want her  family or her concept of Jesus to be destroyed by the books’ messages.

The question touched a nerve for me, and I fired back a reply. This is the edited form of what I answered, without names or titles, because those aren’t the point of this post:

I think it’s fair to say that some book isn’t my style, or that it doesn’t speak into this season of  my life. But being a writer who has been treated respectfully but also criticized, I am reeeeeeally slow to say that someone shouldn’t read another Christian’s book. My premise is Jesus’ words: “He that is not with me is against me.” Anything can be taken out of context, misunderstood, applied in wrong ways. There ARE wolves in sheep’s clothing. The enemy IS out to seek, kill, and destroy. But  books that focus on Jesus and how to get to know Him better have to be a good thing.

I don’t think we have to be scared of these books. The Spirit is a communicator. He will tell us if the fruit of the books are wrong or bad. Has the fruit/result of the book benefited you and your family? Then thank God for sharing His truth and light. No one produces light/truth on their own–it all comes from God and the praise should go back to Him and be spread to our world.
There’s going to be error in any book we read. That’s a given. Parents should protect their children; families definitely need to be a safe place to shelter children because there is evil out there. But somewhere, somehow (don’t ask me how parents should do this–it’s not my job!) children should grow to be adults who can DISCERN–key word here–what’s good and what’s not. Reading should be like eating fish–get the goodness out of it and spit out the bones.
I believe in universal truth and beauty, which means that non-believers can say and do things that are true and beautiful, mirroring God’s image in them, and testifying to the fact that satan cannot bring anything original, or create anything. Everything that comes from him is deception in some way, a twisting/perverting/distorting of the original stamp of beauty and truth that God gives to every person.
Christians have a higher call than only to mirror universal truth, because we are to be light in darkness and salt for insipidness. We are to teach and disciple and equip. Writing books is one way of doing that. It is ill-fitting for Christians to throw rocks or try to debunk other Christians who are sincerely trying to be voices that teach and equip and encourage. It is really dangerous to judge another Christian’s motivation or level of sincerity.
Where there is obvious sinful teaching that is not repented of, there is cause for caution and concern. (And ironically here, the internet is not the most reliable source of truth.) Where there is blatant falsehood or open defiance of God’s word or where good is called evil and evil is called good–these are reasons for not buying a book or not encouraging others to read it. There are spiritual powers and battles around us that we easily forget, and we should know that what we read and say has direct influence on the spirit world, for good or evil. BUT we should not be paranoid or flailing at bookshelves to make sure that no evil thing is in any book.
Is our faith in our expertise/wisdom/discernment, or is our faith in the Lord and His spirit and His endless faithfulness?
Will He or won’t He let us stray?
Are we or aren’t we safe in His hand?
Does a Christian author really have the power to take our faith away and turn us and our family off the narrow path of life?
If we ask God to guide us, and if our hearts are clear before Him, He will not accuse us. Satan is the accuser. The Spirit is faithful to convict. The peace of God is our umpire and can call the shots and tell us if something is wrong or dangerous. If our hearts are soft and sensitive to His gentle, loving voice, we don’t have to be scared that He will let us slip and swallow poison. His heart toward us is to keep us faultless, not to catch us making a mistake and jump on us!
I think _________’s book is a powerful message to this generation. I believe strongly that her wisdom is from God and echoes His heart. I think she is an anointed woman for this time in history, and I think she and her family have special temptations and attacks that no one else knows about because satan hates her kind of message, and her kind of family and marriage.
It is really wrong for Christians to attack each other.  Even when there is obvious error, we should be the ones who can speak honestly about it while handing out equal amounts of grace and forbearance.   Christians fail each other, and some Christian writers fail terribly. They carry a great responsibility (to whom much is given, much is required) but it is not a fellow Christian’s place to accuse and debunk. We should be known for our love and wisdom and grace, not our rigidity and harshness.
People liked spending time with Jesus, and I’m sure it was because of how much He lived in grace and truth. He is my hero and I want to live and read like that too.

Related post: Comments on The Jesus I Never Knew

Interview

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Now it’s public:

I’m a blog junkie.

I have my reasons and justifications.

Do I sound defensive? Do you want to pay for therapy for me?

You can see some of  my reasons in the interview my friend Shari did over on her blog.

For the record, today Feedly says I have 107 sources. And I unsubscribed from a few during the week. As with other parts of my life, I do try to keep an open hand about writing and reading blogs.

Enjoy the interviews!

Rattly People

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In a class this week about femininity and how we are composed of many layers (the object lesson was my matriska doll named Natalie) we talked about how our layers sort of blur into each other, and it’s hard or impossible to separate them.

I suspect that we have at least 100 layers, which explains why we’re so complex. But to be efficient, and to avoid 100 unwieldy terms, we usually use “spirit, soul, and body” to talk about the layers that we’re made of. What we do physically affects us spiritually and emotionally. Our emotions play out physically, viscerally, tangibly. The physical shell of the person is the first thing we notice, but it isn’t who they really are, and yet the way they carry themselves, the things they laugh at, the way they cast their glances around–all of this reveals the intangible parts of them.

So the Samaritan woman came to the well in the middle of the day, not in the morning or evening when the other women did, because of the shame she lived with. Lilly wanted to keep living with August because she needed a mom. Sarah moved across the US, as far away as possible, to remove herself from her cancer treatment and broken engagement. It’s easy to connect the dots with people in a book.

It’s a little more mysterious or insidious to see the pattern in ourselves or the people who we only see as bodies and not having 100 layers, but it’s still true. The loud laughter is an unspoken fear that he doesn’t matter. The trendy clothes reveal internal priorities.  The insistence for control or comfort shows itself in the second helping of Oreo ice cream–or refusal of any of it.

Natalie (she is rattly) demonstrates that each layer is important and valuable. But maybe the most valuable part is the inside that’s most hidden and takes the most time to discover. When I take the doll apart in class, there’s always a collective gasp when they see the smallest doll appear because she is so cute and sweet and unexpected. Sort of like what happens when we see what’s inside the person who we only saw before as a body.

This is a most fascinating life, teaching. I am opening to my brain to the realization that teachers must work harder than their students in the constant process of receiving, processing, and transmitting information, and then re-thinking and re-assessing what was transmitted.

The downside to that is that I end up over-thinking things and living inside my head. Which is why it’s really necessary to spend some time plunking stones into a creek with a child, or laughing at a lame pun. Or kayaking on a slow river with friends, racing for the darkest tan. All of which I did this week, and–at every level of myself– am better for it.

My Diet

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I came to the US with plenty of extra space in my suitcase. On my return flight, that space will be taken up completely with books. This is the promised land of books, and they’re arriving by post these days, which is so, so exciting. The stacks are growing! Between classes and chapel and walks and socializing I’m gorging on books.

I overheard a conversation lately where one person was saying they don’t read, and if they do, it’s a discipline as in, “This month I will read one book.”

That’s ok for them, and they are very useful in God’s Kingdom, but not reading is the discipline for me.

I’m reading Oceans Bright With Stars, the second in a series by Rachel Devenish Ford, which is a compilation of her blogging while her family moved from California to Goa in West India. My life is nothing like hers, because she writes of she and her husband travelling with three children while she’s pregnant with her fourth, and she talks about how exhausting and bewildering and exhilarating her family and surroundings are.

The book keeps me up reading way too late because she’s so honest and refreshing like cool breezes. In a most inexplicable  way, even if our lives have little in common, I feel like she understands me. Her writing isn’t comedy, but it makes me laugh aloud because I get her humor and crazy metaphors and because I see so much of myself in her, especially in the way she mixes up her words like I do.

Then I just finished The Tiger Rising by Kate DiCamillo, a beautiful little gem that made me smile and cry. It’s reminiscent of Bridge to Terebithia.  I love the writing that sparkles off the page and the way the story blends Blake’s Tiger poem in with it.

If you never read it, just try to be the kind of person that when someone tells you they saw a tiger in the woods, you don’t say they’re crazy, but ask “Where?”

It’s All Good News

Posted in life, My Book, recommendations, singleness by

The lecture comes first and then the fun part:

I was with my family visiting another family whom we didn’t know well. When us girls were getting acquainted, one young lady’s first question to me was “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

I said no. I was so stunned by her question that I still, eighteen years later, remember reeling from the realization that having a boyfriend was the way she valued/ranked her life and her friends’ lives.  While I wanted a boyfriend, I still felt deeply that not having one wouldn’t keep me from living well. Some years later, this girl was so crushed when her sisters married, that she couldn’t function well, and was so desperate that she made tragically unwise, harmful decisions to take whatever man would take her.

In our sub-culture that is pro-family–and rightly so–the girl who has no boyfriend or husband feels a lot of pressure and silent questions. She might be 20 or 29, and very satisfied and fulfilled.  OR she might be 19 or 23 and feel cheated and left behind and missing out. People wonder if she chose to be single. She wonders if she’ll ever get to choose a baby name. People unhelpfully recommend a good man to her, but what can she do about him?

I wrote a book called Life is For Living–Not for Waiting Around for the girl who is forlorn and desperate, because I know that God had infinitely more in mind for her when He first dreamed her up. The book doesn’t answer the unanswerable questions, nor resolve all the hang-ups we get stuck on. One of my friends said that when she reads it, she feels like I understand her and am walking with her in this solo walk. It was high praise, and fulfilled part of what I dreamed the book would be.

Because a big fear of women is that we’re on our own. I think we can do anything if we know we’re not alone. My book is a kind of companion that says “I get it. I know, me too.”

Wives and mothers tell  me they like the book as well, because everyone needs a voice beside them that urges them to search out abundance and fullness in Jesus. Romance and children are beautiful and rich  gifts, and not everyone is given them. Is that fair? Hardly. But the good news is that life and fulfillment for every lady is found in one person, and his name is Jesus.

The fun part is this: we’re doing a close-out special, a 60% discount, on my book until March 31.  Which means it’s $4.40 now instead of 10.99.  Order here from Christian Learning Resource. Wholesalers, contact the office and  get 75% off. 

This would be a good chance to buy copies for a study group. Contact me and I’ll be glad to send you a study guide–free!–for your group.

Spread the word–let your friends know, forward this post, share it on your networking places–and I would be so grateful!