Words, Folding and Piercing

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This is true not only of the words we read but definitely also of the words that we say.

“The world out there? It’s a tough place right now, you know? Sometimes, it feels like people are more interested in being right than being kind. Some want to have the last word, the final say, and the smug comeback. I see it too often: how people choose vitriol over virtue.

And that’s just the public word exchanges.

Some of us know painfully well how words behind closed doors can cut the deepest.

I have both loved and hated words. They have been used to heal me, and to hurt me.

You too?

We are all shaped by the words spoken over us. The names we’ve been called on the playground. The inspiring pep talks our parents gave us. The words the counselor spoke over us. The insults from the boss. The gentle affirmation from the kind lady who always sat in the last pew.

Behold the power of the spoken word:

“The tongue has the power of life and death.” {Proverbs 18:21}.

Words start wars, and they spark peace.

They are shadows, and they are chains. But they are also wings and freshest air.

Words can take you prisoner, or they can set you free.

Our words always fold into the souls of other human beings. That’s no small thing.“ — Jennifer Dukes Lee

A Season of Getting Out of the Way

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Today is Ash Wednesday and marks the beginning of this year’s Lenten season, the 47 days (yes, I am including Sundays) between what is commonly called Shrove Tuesday, “Fat Tuesday”, and/or Mardi Gras and Easter Sunday.

I am a Christian and yet I have never really celebrated Ash Wednesday or Lent for that matter, not since I left Cayman and the required chapel Wednesday services behind with grade school. Honestly, Ash Wednesday and Lent were never really explained to me, not in a way that I recall or, if they were, remember understanding. This year, however, I have felt a heart leading to concentrate on the Lenten season and, more so, to participate in it. I am giving something up for Lent this year but I am keeping it to myself for the most part. The only person who  knows is my husband and I am at peace with keeping it that way.

I am also following along and reading through She Reads Truth’s Lent study through their website, starting, naturally, with Day 1: Ash Wednesday.

Several points jumped out at me as I read through today’s lesson:

  • Ash Wednesday is a day of repentance.
  • The ashen cross on the forehead is an outward sign of both repentance and hope.
  • On Ash Wednesday, we admit our limits and acknowledge the brevity of this life.

Ash Wednesday is a day of repentance. It is a day when our mortality is to be foremost in our minds. That is a hard thing to consider: mortality. The fact that, some day, our lives will be over and the world will spin without us. “Remember, mortal, one day you will die.” Those would be hard words to hear, even whispered from a soul I love, respect, and trust. As a Christian, they are a reminder to me that, even though my bones will be dust someday, I have hope in a life beyond death. “Still, even for those in Christ, these words are a sober reminder that only Jesus’ death and resurrection could pay the wage of our sin and reconcile us to our Maker (She Reads Truth).”  To remember ourselves as mortal is not an easy thing but it remembering that we are only on this earth for a short time makes what we do with that time all the more important.

The ashen cross on the forehead is an outward sign of both repentance and hope. I have never had the ashen cross drawn on my forehead, and I definitely didn’t know that, traditionally, the ashes are made from burning the palm fronds from last year’s Palm Sunday. I vividly remember Palm Sunday as a child. I remember walking into church with my friends, waving the palm fronds and leaves as we marked the celebration of Jesus’ arrival into Jerusalem just before Passover and His trial and crucifixion. To see the ashen cross on the forehead as a sign of both repentance, a desire to draw closer to God, and hope, the hope we have in the love and sacrifice Jesus made for us, is remarkably poignant and heart-striking to me. It’s like candlelight in a dark room, enough light to see to take the next step. And then the next after that.

On Ash Wednesday, we admit our limits and acknowledge the brevity of this life. Acknowledging my limitations can be very hard for me. Admitting that there are things that I cannot do, outcomes I cannot affect can often leave me feeling helpless and useless. But that is not the truth. The truth is that I need to lean on and let God be God in those moments and situations. My job is simply to obey and do all that I am called or led to do; God handles the rest, that is His job. Human life may be brief but I have seen God bring about amazing things through people who dare to admit their limits, give their work and what they have into His hands, and see what wonders He will work with it.

“Bring Jesus what you have and get out of the way. Getting out of the way provides an opportunity to discover the awe and wonder of God’s amazing hand and experience God’s abundance.” (Albert Tate)

So, as I go through this Lenten season, my goal is to strengthen my connection with God. To be more intentional about spending time in the quiet, listening to and for Him. To see what I am giving up as a step to a better path, to look for grace in the situations that arise (the giving and receiving of it). To acknowledge my limits, give the Lord what I have, and get out of the way.

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Will You Hear Me?

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I stand like marble: sculpted, chiseled, and shaped from birth.

A stately form, grace running through me like veins of gold.

I am a Queen, born and bred,

Maintained by my own strength of will and force of destiny.

However, I speak not from authority, but from love, from devotion, and from hope.

Will you hear me?

I debase myself to ask, to plead, to beg.

I throw myself upon my knees, appealing to vain mercy.

Will you hear my words? Hear my heart, my weeping soul?

I will willingly do all of these but one.

I will not deny.

I will not deny myself. I will not deny my place.

I will not deny my royalty. I will not deny my crown.

I will not deny my daughter her place and pride.

I will cry from palace to hovel, from rooftop to grave.

I will shake the foundations of my royal legacy, from the Tower to the Alhambra,

To the roots of Heaven itself.

I will not deny who I am, whom I shall ever be!

Will you hear me?

Yes. You will hear me, and you will not forget.

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Author’s Note: This is the third piece in a series inspired by the ladies of the Tudor dynasty. The first, “A Smile for a Kiss”, was inspired by Mary Tudor, eldest daughter of Henry VIII, who would become Queen Mary. The second, “Actions for a Lifetime (Love Me as a Verb)”, was inspired by the genteel Anne of Cleves, short time wife of King Harry (and many say the luckiest one).

This newest piece is inspired by that lion of a woman, Catherine of Aragon, daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand of Spain, firstly wife to Arthur Tudor and then wife to Henry Tudor, who would become Henry VIII and create her Queen of England. All throughout Henry’s quest to divorce her after sixteen years of marriage, to put her away in disgrace and denial, Catherine refused to cooperate. She refused to be put away quietly, to recant her position as his “true wife”, or to give away her title as Queen and disinherit their daughter. She made sure her voice was heard, appealing to Henry himself in open court, and then sweeping from the proceedings with all the dignity and authority that she had spent her entire life holding in her right hand. Eventually, Henry went to great lengths to get what he wanted, but never once did Catherine capitulate and deny who she was.

For the Love of Sweet (Baked) Community

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At any point in time, there is usually one television show that I will go to for my background noise. Whether I am writing, working, cleaning, or just needing to relax, it’s a show that can just be a calming white noise in the back of my conscious attention. Currently, that show is the series of “The Great British Baking Show (Bake Off)” that is hosted by Netflix, which I think is series 5 or sommat (yeah, my partial Britishness is showing through). I LOVE this show! I kid you not, I have watched this one season of the show at least ten times through. I watched it when it aired on PBS originally and was delighted when it showed up on Netflix. It has become the one show that I will happily and consistently watch at any point in time. And I’ll probably make you watch it, too.

This past Christmas, I gave the American version of the show, “The Great Holiday Baking Show”, a fair shake but didn’t enjoy it nearly as much. Not by a long shot. Now, I could mark that to the fact that…well…British accents (English, Scottish, Welsh, Irish) just make anything better. But that would be a purely superficial reason. No. The reason that I love TGBBS is, I have discovered, because of the community and the way it is portrayed and shown. These people aren’t just contestants; these people are one big family, even though their number gets smaller week by week. They are fun, they are delightful, they are funny, they are supportive, encouraging, and helpful towards each other. They meet their challenges head-on and with high hopes (if there is groaning, grimacing, or grumbling, it is forgivingly on the cutting room floor), even if they have never heard of a princesstorte in their life (“Never seen it, never eaten it”) or if, at the end of an episode, they vow that they “will never wrap another pear in pastry again”. No matter what, they support each other. Each person who wins Star Baker is met with resounding applause and “well done’s”; those who have had a rough day are given support by their teammates (yeah, they call themselves a team, not competitors); and those who go home are met with hugs, “we’ll miss you’s”, compliments of their skill, and assurances that they will continue to make absolutely splendid creations in their future. Seventeen-year-old Martha, the youngest ever contestant on the show as of that particular season, was assured by Sue Perkins, upon her leaving the show, “you will rule the world, my darling”. And what seventeen-year-old doesn’t need to hear such confident encouragement and faith in them? And then, at the finale episode, everyone came back to cheer on the finalists and celebrate their success with them.

I love this! This…THIS is my heart for community! My heart for people, the vision of community that I am trying to foster and build in my life. A community of people–real, living, trying-their-best, imperfect people: family, friends, fellow hobbyists, peers. I want a world where we each do our best with the gifts that we have been given, where we encourage, cheer on, and clap for others even when they do better than we do, where we help each other through our stressful, difficult moments with no thought to ulterior motive, listen and/or offer comfort in mournful moments, and rejoice riotously with each other in our successes (and, yes, believe me, you will have them).

As Jen Hatmaker might say: for the love of sweet (baked) community, this is what I want! This is what life and love and relationship are about for me.

Defining My Work and Reputation

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At the 2015 Global Leadership Summit, one of the presenters was a gentleman by the name of Horst Schulze. Horst Schulze–a man of adorable demeanor, inspiring passion, and an endearing German accent–is the founding president and former COO of the Ritz-Carlton group and currently chairman and CEO of Capella Hotel Group. He is intensely passionate about what he sees as his mission: caring service in his industry.

“You are partially defined by the work you are doing and by the reputation of the company you work for.”

If I am defined by the work I am doing, then how am I defining myself and how am I affecting the reputation of One I work for? Is my life, my work, living up to the reputation of the God I claim to work for and serve?

Over the past few years, I have had some people tell me how surprised they are by my desire and determination to live out Jesus’ command to love God and love others. No rules or conditions, just to love. What dismays me is that this experience brings back to me again and again just what a reputation does the Christian religion have for people to be so surprised by a Christian choosing simply to love. For it to be such a surprise for me to try to meet people as they are and show kindness and grace and love, the same that has been shown to me. It’s obviously a reputation I don’t like. I don’t want the reputation that belongs to the religion. I want the reputation that belongs to Jesus. I want my work to define me as a lover of God and a lover of people. 

I shall try to see if I can put my other thoughts and musings from this past weekend into words but, for now, I think this is a good place to start.

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Furyan Flame

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Inspired by “The Chronicles of Riddick”, starring Vin Diesel.

My life–such as it was–was over. Until the day that I met the Furyan.

They had spread across the great expanse like a wave of darkness, leaving destruction in their wake, blinking out planets and stars like so many candles snuffed in a breath.  You know the story: if they could not convert you, they would kill you.

My race was not eradicated. No, we were converted, whether we chose to be or not.

The Necromongers needed us.

My people, we were of a particular mind. By that, I mean, we were of a Great Mind. Our minds are moon and stars above that of many other species. We are Connected. We can communicate telepathically, even across thousands of light years, and can even carry the thoughts of others with us across the expanse. We can see into the minds of others, reading the impressions left upon their cerebral cortex. Thoughts, experiences, memories.

They called Him (quietly) the Holy Half-Dead, but, if anyone was half-dead, it was us. Where we had been artists and philosophers, oracles and orators, now we were communicators and weapons. We had become the Quasi-Dead.

Most of the time we didn’t know one moment from the other, always lingering on the edge of life and death. That is, until we were required to touch minds. Rip into them was a more accurate description.

My life had been over for a hundred years. Until I touched the Furyan’s mind. Such rage was there. Fierce, undying, ever-burning rage and desire for freedom. We cried out the only thing this latest Lord-Marshall could possibly do to stand under this creature’s fire.

“Kill the Riddick! Kill the Riddick! KILL THE RIDDICK!”

It was as if his mind fed back into mine, opening me, shattering me, filling me with this fire. It burned through my mind, lighting the dark corners of death where I had been kept for so long. And, somewhere in the dark and the dead, I prayed to the stars.

Let them not kill Riddick. Let the Furyan prevail. Let the fire burn.

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Art Spotlight: CL Pritchard

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Courtney Pritchard is not only one of the dearest friends of my life but also one of my absolute favorite artists. This is the most recent in her Ribbon Girls series. Please, do go check out her work on DeviantArt. There are prints available! ^_^

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Sweet Floating

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The other day, as I covered my bed in freshly laundered linens, I paused for a finishing touch. I took some air freshener and sprayed my pillow and side of the bed lightly, the apple-cinnamon aroma making me long for bedtime to come, when I could bury my nose into my pillow and allow that sweet scent to soothe away the day’s care and busyness and lull me to sleep.

There are few scents in the world more calming, lovely, and soul-soothing to me than apples and cinnamon (except for Glade’s creamy custard/apple cinnamon 2-in-1 candle; that reminds me of my favorite My Little Pony when I was a little girl, smells just like her). The scent calls to mind all the time of the year from autumn harvest through Christmas. It warms me in the midst of the earth being in its winter bones outside. It calls me to comfort and peace and rest. I will re-scent my pillow and blanket later on so I really can’t wait to go to bed tonight.

 

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Peaceful Sleep by Chujian Ou

 

 

 

Some Truth for a Tuesday

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A friend sent me this last night and it absolutely hit the necessary heart-spot. And so I am setting it here for you today. You are allowed to change, to grow, to be who you are becoming. You are all kinds of wonderful and I am glad that you are here.

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Giving As You Would Have Given To You

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We have often heard what is touted as The Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31). Have you ever thought, though, that that includes not only our actions but our reactions to people, too? Have you ever had a situation in which you longed and hoped for the best-case reaction from someone(s) but, instead, got the absolute opposite?

  • Instead of compassion, you were judged.
  • Instead of mercy and forgiveness, you were rejected.
  • Instead of support, you were abandoned.

Being truthful, coming clean, sharing our faults, shortcomings, vulnerabilities, or our need for help are often very difficult and even frightening. That fear is often built on the anticipation of a bad reaction from those to whom we must tell these things, and many of us have felt the pain of those fears realized at one time or another.

One of the most popular quotes over the past year (with over 51 million Google results and numerous memes floating about Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter) is: “Be the person you needed when you were younger” (Ayesha A. Siddiqi). What would our world be like if we gave the reactions that we wished we had received in our difficult moments? Better yet, what if we gave responses instead of reactions? “To react” is defined by Merriam-Webster as action or feeling as a result of a stimulus or situation. “To respond” is defined by the same as giving an answer to something. The former implies a visceral outcome, built on emotion. The latter implies conscious effort and thought given before speaking or acting. Now, that is not say that ours will always be the response that the other person would expressly desire but, in taking time to think, there is less chance of us allowing our emotions to hold sway and cause us to be discourteous, dismissive of, or even cruel to others in their heavy moments.

What if we gave responses instead of reactions? What if we took the time to consider? To consider humanity, fallibility, and kindness.  We can give compassion instead of judgement, mercy instead of rejection, and support instead of abandonment. How much better would our world be if we remembered the responses that we needed in our tough times and then gifted those responses to others? How many spirits might be spared, hearts edified, or even  relationships saved? Taking a pause is not always easy to remember or to do but I dare say that it undoubtedly worth it.

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