Elkmont, Alabama

I am in Alabama right now. I am in Elkmont, Alabama, sitting on a velvetish couch next to a marble statue of a horse and a glass case full of ethnically diverse Santa Clauses. My favorite is the Mexican one holding a guitar and wearing a sombrero. Elkmont is a charming town of about 300 people, all of whom seem blissfully unaware of themselves and in general, the world around them. I say blissfully because they are happy, and it has been nice to escape to this random corner of the world and remember how many different lives are being lived all over the world, and how self centered I can sometimes get.

I took a walk in the cold Alabama air this morning, was blinded by a brilliant sun, enchanted by people stopping to ask if I needed a ride into "town" and chased and bitten by a mangy mutt protecting a run down farmhouse. Unfortunately, the charm of the light and strangers did not overpower my fear of rabies, and my walk ended in a frightened and angry hop skip. But now I am showered, coffee'd up, and feeling better.

The woman who owns the couch and the Santa Clauses is my roommates grandmother. Aside from Santas, she also collects pictures of grotesquely overweight children from Enquirer Magazine. She then laminates them and puts them into a manila folder next to her cookie recipes. She showed her collection to us proudly within 10 minutes of our arrival. This morning after I came back a bit shaken up from my run in from with the dog, she called the neighbor to give him a piece of her mind, and then invited me to watch television preachers with her to make myself feel better. I accepted, and found myself pleasantly entertained. Don't judge me.

Purple Berries

The world lies still, soaked and saturated with meaning, waiting to be squeezed. I walked up a hill in Elkmont, Alabama today, and the way was rough but pain free. Atop the hill the sun was so bright I couldn’t see anything. I turned around to behold a dead field washed in the sun’s white light. Everything took on the white-washedness, including myself, and I climbed a bit further to an old rusted trailer that had most likely been abandoned and still for decades. I touched it, and wondered if it ached for the days when it pulled bales of hay with purpose and dignity. Something purple in the white tugged the corner of my eye, and I looked down to see a cluster of berries I’d never seen before. I plucked them up, and proceed to hunt until I had a full bouquet of purple berries and red leaves. I laid them out on the rusted trailer, an offering to the God who showed them to me, and turned the forgotten trailer into a holy altar. I knelt, and watched the tall grass that had overgrown the field dance and sway with the wind. No one but God knew where I was, and no one was there to absorb the beauty but God and me. We enjoyed it together.

A poem for Jess

This is a poem to my friend, Jess
whose mess is beautiful
and whose beauty is a mess.

To Jess,

whose room is a cavern of open books, fabric,
of thoughts and captured moments.
On their own, tiny islands- inconsequential,
but let her swirl them together, and a room becomes an
explosion of profuse and profound beauty.
She calls it disaster, I call it a treasure chest.

To Jess,

whose heart is soft and big,
filled with dreams, pain, wonder and lessons hard learned,
and ill at ease with its imperfections.
She calls herself enemy, I call her angel.
She calls herself stranger, to me she is home.
(I know better).

To Jess,

I love her and one day she’ll see
The extraordinary beauty in her room, her head, her life.
And she’ll stop trying to clean it up and instead,
laugh and revel in it.

s.l.o.w.i.n.g..... d.o.w.n.....

Every day you and I are assailed by billboards, radio, demands from school or work, etc. We are over-committed, over-stimulated, and often find ourselves rushing through a world of colors and noises, not able to take any of it in. Because I want to write, I'm forced to slow down a bit. You can't write what you don't see, and seeing takes time. Plus God has taught me that I lose my sanity if I don't stop everything every day to read His word, to journal, to push everything aside and rest in Him.

The last few years I have had this daily slow time with Him, but then usually when I close my journal or bible, or when I get in the car to leave the lake, the rush begins. I haphazardly slam together my day, skipping and flying from event to event, baking without measuring, driving without getting directions first, sending letters without stamps... etc. I knew this about myself, and in a way enjoy living life like this. It creates some interesting moments. But this past month the situation has taken such a drastic downhill turn that I've had to reassess my ways. Here are a series of things that happened which culminated in this blog, and the realization that I MUST slow down.

1) A few weeks ago, I lost the entrance key to my apartment building and parking lot. For three weeks, until I could buy a new one, I had to wait outside the parking lot until another car came and rush in after them, or else call my manager to let me in.
2) A week after that, I lost my license. I lost my license because I had used it to get into the gym because I had lost my student I.D. card. Seeing a pattern here?
3) A few days later I lost my keys. I thought I had thrown them into my trunk and then shut it. I called roadside assistance to get them to help me, but ended up finding them in a decorative basket on my desk. I had somehow managed to bury them under a picture frame, a stuffed animal, and jewelry. Why, oh why, would I have done this?
4) Around that time, I started getting into tea drinking because I could feel the stress building, and thought it might relieve me a bit. I was making honey orange spice something or other tea for my roommate and me, and leaned over too far into the stove and caught my scarf on fire... yes, me in the kitchen in flames. Not too much harm done, it actually added to the character of an already fringy scarf... but still...
5) The final blow came last night. I went camping this weekend with some friends, and last night we sat around a campfire cooking and singing and just enjoying each other in the moment. A girl beckoned me to come from across the fire pit, and without a thought I stepped into a pile of burning coals. Um, are you kidding me? Worse, I did not even realize it until someone pointed out that my shoes were smoking. I looked down and had burned a hole into my brand new running shoes. This was a hundred dollar misstep. (I had been waiting for the shoes for a month, and my parents got them for me for my birthday). I had to excuse myself and swallow an egg sized lump in my throat.

After this event, I saw two options. One, throw myself into a pit of despair at my apparent complete lack of stewardship and responsibility. Two, ask what God might be trying to teach me. I'm going with number two for now. See, I love my life, and I want to do things well. I'm learning in my classes, absorbing everything I can from older women, trying to be effective and humble in ministry, attempting to meet needs around me, but I know that I have GOT to slow down a bit. If catching two items of clothing on fire within a week won't teach you that, I don't know what will.

So I'm done running again for the time being, both physically and metaphorically. The former because of a new found lack of footwear, the latter because if I keep going this fast, I will miss important details like rent due dates and... things being on fire...

Please pray for me in this slowing down endeavor. You slow down too, and for goodness sake, turn off the radio in the car to think about where you've been and where you're going. Forgive the preaching, but let's help each other out a bit.

God hugged me today

This afternoon I sat outside with no shoes on and let my skin warm in the afternoon sun and cried because I hurt. I told God that this was hard and I needed him. And then, God met me.

Allison and Jacob Kemp (fellow DTS students) walked by with their baby Joel. Allison handed him to me and we talked as I loved on Joel and absorbed baby therapy... Immediately I forgot myself a bit.

Another friend handed me half a 3 musketeers and joined our conversation. It hit the spot.

Another friend drove by, parked, and got out to come talk to us. He had encouraging words, wisdom and love.

My precious roommate and her fiance stopped to talk and laugh and play.

A girl from my hall stopped and put her arm around me while I played with the baby.

I couldn't believe it. One minute, aching. The next, surrounded by so much warmth and love....

Thank you so much God. Thank you so much.

on people pleasing and the two sides of the coin

Today I ran on the outside track at the gym. I ran way too fast due to the summer weather, (I am now convinced that Texas weather has attention deficit disorder- summer. no winter. no fall. no summer.), my new shoes, and the fact that Pauline and I spent thirty minutes freaking out about how wonderful it is that our bodies work and we can laugh and pinch and run and play, and how we should do it now while we can. (We spent the previous thirty minutes realizing that one day we would have children, and that afterward the skin that stretched on our bellies would hang there loosely. What do you do?! Tuck it into your pants?! Hide it with a sweater?! We needed the positive thinking for our mental health, so changed to celebrating the now)

Anyway... So I ran too fast, and had to stop early and walk. Which actually worked out well, because for the next forty minutes everything I saw was a story. A squirrel hiding an acorn from me, a weeping willow tickling its shrub girlfriends, a man who ran so slow he almost did not move, but did so with such a determined look on his face you would have thought he were running the olympics. Even I was proud and stood straighter.

These stories were cut (though I cheated and gave tiny story sprinkles) in light of the following:

I looked over as I walked and saw a man with sunglasses on and headphones in, running like with arms out to his side, singing loudly to his music. I thought to myself, "now this is a free man. " And I thought about people-pleasing and what a waste of time it was, and how he didn't give a damn what I thought or what anyone else thought, (though anyone with any sense had to think he was rockin), and how happy he was as a result of this perspective.

So I decided to write about living to please people, and why we shouldn't do it. This is after all, the day the Lord has made, and you are the only you in the world. You might have no desire to run and sing out loud, but you might want to lay down on the grass, or introduce yourself to a stranger, or bake some bread. And it was going to be the greatest, most inspiring blog ever.

But then...

I rounded the corner and saw the other side of the coin. An older man in short shorts and nothing else lathered himself up with oil (though I actually only saw him lathering his chest and bald head), and sprawled out on one of the picnic tables to bathe himself. Now this man too clearly did not care what anyone else thought. (or else he did and was quite pleased with himself, which is somewhat frightening) and my "just be yourself" blog went out the window. I would have appreciated very much if he had asked my opinion on him laying there while I enjoy the fall weather.

I know how this sounds- like I think that people should be themselves unless it happens to infringe on my interests. But what do you think? Where is the line? I think it comes down to living as unto God and no one else. Please seek him earnestly before going to my gym and undressing outside.

Again, if you don't know Him, call me. I know this post is mostly just in humor, but I'd love to introduce Him to you.

jer 6:16

Thus says the LORD: "Stand by the roads, and look,
and ask for the ancient paths,
where the good way is; and walk in it,
and find rest for your souls.
But they said, 'We will not walk in it.'

God says, "Walk in the good way. Rest. Ask for wisdom."

We say, "No thank you."

WHAT?!

My roommate and I talked about this verse last night. She said this pretty much sums up all of history. I agree with her, and I see it in my life. God says, Come my child, believe. Walk in the way. And sometimes I say no. But by His grace, sometimes we say yes. We say yes, and rest, and he soothes our broken hearts with balm.

I am on a retreat right now with my roommate. This week I made it, but barely. I knew I had to get away for a bit, and prayed that God would show me where. I mentioned it to Christen, and she felt the same way. We are at an undisclosed location (that we accidently disclosed a few times) that is terribly close to DTS, but I think God worked a miracle, because I feel like I am a million miles away. I've been able to get some perspective, to rest, to understand why things are hard, to laugh at myself, and to hope. God has told me, 'Abby, this is the way, walk in it.' I respond with this verse...

You have said, "Seek my face."My heart says to you,
"Your face, LORD, do I seek." Psalm 27:8

I pray that this encourages you, and honors God. I pray that you seek God, that you lay before him all that you are, and seek Him. You have everything to gain, and will lose much. But better is ONE DAY in His courts than thousands elsewhere. Better is one moment believing truth, basking in the light of it, than a day of lies.

May you rest in Him today.

beards

I get the feeling (though it’s never been plainly stated)
That for a man, the capacity to grow a beard is quite the source of pride.
Those with full beards can look pensive and wise
Merely by leaning back and rubbing their chins.
Those who cannot faithfully shave their thin whiskers every day
As if to say,
“Oh I could have a beard if I wanted one.
I simply choose this naked face."

And those with the power to beard that truly do choose a naked face
At least once a week,
Will “forget” and leave a scruff, to distinguish themselves from their lesser smooth-faced friends.

Surprisingly, for women, it is entirely different.

I know some women with quite a bit of chin hair.
You’d think they too would wear it proudly.

But they hide in a room with a mirror that blows their face up to the size of the room
And a vicious pair of tweezers,

And emerge only when their face is smooth and clean.
They walk into the world and say, “Of course I have no beard. I am woman.”

Now some women have nothing like this to worry about.
But for them the shock will be worse
When around fifty they look into the mirror
And the light catches their face in such a way
That they note, a rather long hair
Where there was none before.
Were psychologists to do a test, I have a suspicion they would find a strong correlation between this traumatic discovery and the purchase of new clothes, a gym membership, and the word “botox” typed into the Google box.

Some people say I’m really reading into things, that people actually just shave and don’t shave and don’t think about it at all.
Skeptics.
In the same way I can’t understand when they speak another language,
They simply don’t speak beard.

the study of creativity.

Today my professor played us a piece of music and asked us to write down what we thought the sentence structure of the piece would look like. Would it be filled with commas, m-dashes, exclamation points? Would it be a poem, or prose?

Then she asked us to use our imaginations and paint the piece of music in words.

The piece consisted of two instruments that I could make out; an organ and a horn. I wrote that the organ was an old lady in church nodding off, and that the horn was the preacher yelling hellfire and damnation, and that the whole piece had this eighties cheesy charm to it that reminded me of Love Story but mostly made me a bit queasy.

She turned off the piece, and I raised my hand, excited to share because I believed I had nailed it. She pointed to me, and then casually mentioned that this piece was the music in her wedding. I choked, coughed, told her to come back to me, and by the time it was my turn had prepared a lovely summary of a swan gliding on the a lake at dusk. The organ was the swan, and the horn was the sunset.

I think I brought tears to her eyes.

Screwtape

For my Spiritual Formation Class, we wrote a letter modeled after C.S. Lewis' book, The Screwtape Letters. If you haven't read the book, it is a fictional series of letters from one demon to another about the man they tempt and torture. So for this class we were to imagine how a demon might be lying to us. I don't know how this all really works, spiritually, but I wrote a letter about the lies I believe Satan feeds me, and the traps I into which I frequently fall. It's fairly dark, and I may change my mind and take this off my blog, but I thought I'd put it out there to edify and encourage. Enough qualifiers.

One more quick intro. I named the demon "hollowine." I did so to play on the word Halloween of course, and also because all of the lies of the Enemy aim at hollowing me out, like a dark ice cream scoop, taking out all that is lovely and true, and replacing it with emptiness.

My Dear Hollowine,

Thus far, you’ve done a great job of using the word "should" to paralyze her. Should remains one of our most powerful words because His side also uses this word, though of course, with very different purposes. When she first crossed from dark to Him, she rejoiced in the fact that her inadequacies didn’t matter anymore. Freely she exulted. But now, thanks to us, she feels they matter a great deal. Here's a little known secret: hyper-awareness of inadequacies is actually more useful to our side than the inadequacies themselves. For example, her inability to completely rid herself of pride before doing something for Him has at times left her motionless, unwilling to move. She wants to purify her motives completely before acting. This is of course, impossible. She has forgotten that He does not require perfection, but dependence, and that and that He is the one who will change her.
Continue to remind her of what she should or should not be doing, hoping, struggling with, etc. Continue to feed her the thought that nothing she puts her hands to is of any significance unless she does it perfectly. The reason the word should wields such power is that the Enemy uses the word to influence the future. He speaks to humans when they are considering a certain choice, and leads them with should and should not. We twist the word and thought, and even the feeling of should, and use it to focus the Christian on the past, or even their present circumstances. Say she feels fear, for example. Convince her that she shouldn’t feel fear, and tell her that if she were the kind of person she were supposed to be, fear would never be a part of her life. Condemn her. Be careful though; don’t speak too loudly, because at the same time the Enemy will tell her that given the fact that she feels fear, she should come to Him for peace and courage. If we are too overt, she’ll be able to hear the difference.
Convince her that everything she has done has been tainted by her inadequacies. This is of course, true, and the Enemy knows it, but He will tell her that it doesn’t matter, because Adequacy is found in Him. If we continue down this road successfully, she will arrive completely removed from the broken, needy person she was when she first crossed over, and will busy herself moment after moment trying to make herself “lovely and pure.”
One more thing, somewhat distinct, yet related; tell our dear weakling that her failures, her lack of ability to see Him, and the diversity in the world nullify her ability to reason. Convince her that Truth is unknowable, and that it is arrogant to say otherwise. Because of her emotional highs and lows, because of falling, because of coming into higher truths about God that are complex and mysterious, she may be persuaded to believe (and even better, think herself humble for it) that she has no ability to reason. Feed her thoughts such as, “Well, who am I to say what’s finally true and not true?” Then mingle those thoughts with fear of what her community around her will think for doubting, and you’ve got the best combination of all- a song and dance. She will continue acting as though the Book and the Enemy are her authority, but her heart will be with us. You may even let her have some success in self-discipline, some outward achievements to convince her that she really is okay after all. But the Enemy wants far more than that. He wants awareness, aliveness, and faith. He wants brokenness, dependence, forgiveness and love. We want fear. The irony lays in the fact that in saying “I cannot reason,” she actually is reasoning. Her human mind becomes thus worthless, and this is the only real tool we have. If she uses her mind, she’ll be lost to us forever.
Your efforts thus far have been valiant. I’ve peeked in on her plenty of glorious sunny days and seen her terrified with no clue why. But be careful. I think she may be starting to catch on…

Dutifully,
Satan

a little girl

Today I was lying on the grass in the park reading and writing and thinking and scowling and concerned that there was definitely a good way to do this thing called life, a more simple way, a more obedient way, a more abundant way, and that I was missing it. I was half praying half brainstorming when I realized that fall was crisp and sort of perfect and I was wasting blue perfection being angsty. That made me even more angsty, so I lay my head down on my hands and just sighed. I think I eeked out, "Help," a simple prayer, before I looked up and saw her.

She was probably 6 years old, with vanilla hair and skin almost as light. I watched her chase a soccer ball. Presumably she was in control of the ball, but you got the feeling the ball was pulling her along, and she chased it. I found myself jealous. Jealous of this happy hearted little girl, knowing that a piece of her was in me, but that if I let her out the other me would yell at her for not being productive. Then I heard her father call, "Mary, don't run a head of us."

I looked back and saw her father, a clean cut gentle looking man, with three other small fair headed girls. I smiled, delighted to be reminded of my family of four girls. I asked if they were all his, and he answered yes, and then turned back, his hands understandably full. Mary was the second oldest, followed by an older toddler, and then one who could barely walk. But the one who interested me was the oldest. I saw her from behind first. She turned when I asked her father a question and looked at me disinterestedly. Her forehead creased, serious and contemplative. She could not have been older than eight. I laughed to myself and watched her. She picked up a heavy soccer bag and walked around with it, following her sisters and father. The bag was almost as big as her, and pulled her little shoulders down. I watched intently now, mesmerized as she lugged this weight around. The family moved their way to the car, the father a shepherd of his little cotton sheep, zig-zagging and guiding and picking up when necessary. Two things then happened that just stunned me.

The grass the entire way to the parking lot was short and crisp, but off to the right, out of the way, was a nasty mess of shrubs and a pile of branches fallen from trees. The three little girls and their father walked relatively straight to the car. But the eldest, let's just call her Jane, walked head down, burdened by bag, for the shrubs. "Honey!" her father called, "Don't walk through that!" She sighed and went around... the long way. I teared up, seeing so clearly myself in her. I watched and waited expectantly.

As they piled their way into the mini van, I just thought, (why not?), wouldn't it be great if she put that bag down. So I prayed and asked God that she would. And I kid you not. This little girl put that bag down, climbed into the van, and they drove away. I got up and sprinted down the heel barefoot, tears streaming down my face, but laughing. A minute later I stood there, bag in hand, rejoicing, but feeling kind of bad that my prayer had caused a little girl to lose her soccer bag. I took it back and found a lost and found (not before I took a picture, of course).

Then I just sat their, rejoicing in my Father, in His sovereignty of the moment, in His love for me, and the way the Bible tells me I am His girl. And I decided, for today at least, to take a lesson from my scowling friend Jane. I'm putting down my burdens (my worries and fears) and leaving them in the dust. I might even play soccer. Okay, probably not, but I'm resting, that's for sure.

"Place my yoke on you and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble, and you will find rest for your souls because my yoke is pleasant, and my burden is light." Matt 11:29-30

Stories from Asia... pt I... A look at the Sun

Once this summer I was feeling frustrated with the fact that God felt far from me. I was there to talk to people about Him, to teach what I believe is true, but still, the God I want others to know felt far. Why?! One evening, I climbed to the roof of my dorm building to catch the sunset. I had lived in a huge city for a few weeks at this point, and actually had not been able to watch the sunset because of buildings and pollution and time. (Many of you know this, but I usually try to pause daily to watch the sunset in Dallas. If I can make it to White Rock, I'm there. If not, the DTS parking lot will do). So anyway, as soon as I set foot on this roof and looked up, my heart skipped a beat. I didn't even realize how much I had missed nature and creation until that moment.
I sat down, and just lost it, crying because I was mad at God for feeling far away. I begged Him to please come and sit with me for just a little bit, to reassure me that this is all for real. But as I was doing so, I noticed that I could not look directly at the sunset. Not just the sun, but the whole scene. For whatever reason, the beauty was just too harsh, too glaring, too brilliant for my eyes. I had to look out to the North and just try to enjoy the view out of the corner of my eyes. As I did so, I realized the irony of that moment. I couldn't even look at the sun, but I was asking it's Maker reveal Himself physically to me. I felt God say, "Daughter, you don't know what you're asking. You cannot see me. But you can see enough to know." And it's true. Is not God infinitely more bright than the sun? Am I really ready to be blasted into smithereens by His glory? If found myself on my knees on the roof, thanking Him for His patience with me, and acknowledging that He has done enough in my life.
Sometimes I get frustrated with God's value system. You see, God values faith. He has given us plenty of testimonies to point to Him, (History, Logic, Relationship, Beauty, to name a few), and He asks us to trust Him. But really, it just doesn't matter if I get frustrated or not. Faith is what God asks, faith is what I can give Him. He deserves it.
I long for the day when my faith shall be made sight, but for now, we live by faith, and not by sight. We cannot avoid it. Everyone, I mean EVERYONE will put their faith in something.

too late (or early?) for blogging.

It is 4:42am, and I am awake. And not just in the physical sense of the word. My heart is awake to God and the way He is moving in my life, and my mind is awake and filled with lessons I am learning from every angle. I'm not always awake in this sense, but tonight, I am. I remember once I was driving in Oklahoma, and felt so superbly awake to God that I had the urge to roll down my window and scream, "WAKE UP!!!" to everyone within earshot. I decided against it, but every once in awhile that urge will resurface. I guess I just like the imagery; waking and sleeping.

Are you awake to His truth today? Are you letting it saturate you? If you don't believe the Bible is true, are you awake to why? Do you sleep through contradictions in your worldview, or are you aware of them?

I returned from Asia about two weeks ago, and will be posting stories and thoughts from my summer. One thing I realized there is that I had been suppressing some doubts. Yes, I had been dealing with doubts (even in Seminary! shocking...) and had basically been ignoring them, hoping they would go away. I tried to put them to sleep. But this summer, as I met people and told them what the Bible says, those doubts and fears were awakened. And praise God for that. I was able to look them in the face and ask some tough questions. Rather than squelch my faith, my heart was strengthened. Now I wonder why I was so afraid to ask the tough questions. I do not want a faith based on cheap answers, and I do not want to believe something that isn't true! If the God of the Bible is God (which actually, He is), then He is plenty big enough to stand up to the questions of a twenty three year old know nothing.

So today, tonight, I encourage you to wake up if you've been sleeping. Is there a truth you've hesitated to believe? A question you've been afraid to ask? A gnawing conviction that you've been suppressing? Or maybe God has been wanting to spend more time with you, but you've been busy. In our culture, it is easy to sleep. We've got media and comfort and plenty with which to fill our heads. But as my brother in law reminds me, what is easier is not always what is better. Wake up, dear ones. The dawn is breaking.

"For you are all children[a] of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness. So then let us not sleep, as others do, but let us keep awake and be sober." 1 Thessalonians 5:5-7

"As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness;when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness." Psalm 17:15

what He did for me today.

God did some really great things for me today, really great. God is always so good, but for some reason today, he just loved on me. Here are two smallish ways...

1) I got sick at the gym while working out, and for some reason felt really dizzy. So I just went outside where my gym has this little outdoor track and garden. It is a small haven in a busy part of town, and I just sat under this awning and watched the storm and talked to God. It was just simple, beautiful, and redemptive (turning feeling yuck into something so good.)

2) Christen and I spend two hours at Cheesecake Factory talking about God, and how He's real, and how we know Him, and how we can do what we were created to do... worship. It was such a rich and filling evening (taste and tummy wise, as well as heart wise).

Here are two big ways, at least, big to me.

1) While at Cheesecake Factory, Christen mentioned that it was hard to believe that God loves us. I responded that yes, sometimes it's hard, but it is so great that whether we believe it or not, He loves us the same. And right then, in that moment, as I said it, I believed that God loves me. My mind flashed back to six months go when I prayed (as I mentioned in an earlier blog) that God would teach me this year about His love for me. I wrote in that earlier blog that God had decided to teach me about faith instead. But now, I see that love follows quickly on faith's heels. As I choose to believe, regardless of how I feel, God is pleased by my faith. To love Him is to obey him. And now I can honestly say that I believe God loves me in a deeper way than I believed it six months ago. May the same be true of me every six months, every year, as I grow to believe Him more.
Six months ago when I prayed that, I was sitting at a cafe journaling with Christen beside me. As I spoke the words, "God loves me" I gasped with realization that not only had He answered my prayer, he had allowed me to share both the prayer and the answer with my dear dear friend. How extravagant is His love! And then...

2) This could take too much explaining, so I'm going to be a bit brief and vague, but many of you know that I have struggled with some major anxiety in the past couple of years. God is teaching me so much through anxiety, and though it has been horrible at times, I can honestly say, I wouldn't trade it. My two most painful experiences with anxiety last year happened in restaurants. Once was in Deep Sushi with my father. We were out to lunch, and all of the sudden, for no apparent reason I was absolutely paralyzed with fear. It was totally irrational, and embarrassing to admit, but I couldn't think clearly, and was literally counting the minutes to when we'd be done. My dad and I have a good relationship, and when I got home to my apartment, I wept with frustration, not understanding why I felt like I did, wishing I could just calm down and enjoy his company. The other experience was similar, but about a month later in a restaurant with a bunch of friends. They were good friends, safe people, but nonetheless, I felt completely panicked, and miserable.
Well, today my dad came up to help me move some things, and we chose to go to Deep Sushi again for lunch. It was halfway through a peaceful, joyful lunch before I remembered my last experience there. And, amazingly, the waiter had sat us at the exact same table. This time it was so different! I was so different. I thanked God silently for the tiny picture of redemption in that simple lunch. Tonight, as Christen and I were driving back from dinner, I told her that story, and as I was telling it, remembered that my other anxious restaurant moment was at Cheesecake Factory! God allowed me to go to both places in the same day, with peace and joy in my heart. Again, how extravagant! The lunch would have been enough, but this was just too much. How deep the Father's love for us, indeed.

Amen!

random

I am pretty tired, but don't want to go to bed yet, so I thought I'd share a poem from the past.

Fitting In (to be read with a country accent)

Sometimes, when things don't fit, it kinda gets you down.

like when your cars to big for the parking spot,
or your pants don't zip and you know they ought,
or the freezer's jammed and you've got a bag of ice,
or your in the mood for chick flicks and your date brought poltergeist.

Other times when things don't fit, it kinda makes you smile.

like the large bearded man in the tiny green slug bug,
or the suddenness of a from behind hug
or the hippie wearing flip flops in the dead of december
or the smell at the mall that forced you to remember

the seventh grade, when nobody fit
and everything is awkward and life's a total pit.
cause you're working your tail off to figure out who you should be
though the moments when you just are, are the moments when you're free.

How Deep the Father's Love for Us.

Sometimes, life is so rich I feel like a life-glutton. Ali’s wedding was one of these times. On Saturday, moments before the wedding I stood at the back of the church waiting to walk down the aisle, and time stood still. Friends and family were all in the sanctuary, looking forward. Ali’s friends were lined up in front of me, and then Keila, my youngest sister, Katie, the next youngest, then me.

I should take a moment to write about my sisters. Oh, where to start. Honestly, I can hardly even write those girls names without tearing up. My relationship with my sisters is one of the most precious things I have on this earth. It may be the most precious. I love them more than life, and they me. There is a solidarity amongst us that has grown so strong these last couple of years. The reason? First off, of course, we are family. I was five when Keila was born, and the small difference that five years makes has grown smaller and smaller as we’ve grown older. Now I truly consider Keila one of my closest friends, not just my little sister. Secondly, each of these girls is devoted to Jesus Christ. They love Him so much, seek Him daily, are bold when initiating confrontation, and humble when receiving it. We pray together every time we get together. Please understand, this is no holier-than-thou speech. This is me, sitting in absolute awe and humble gratitude at what God has given me.

So I stood with my two beautiful sisters in front of me, and I looked back. There was my father (who deserves a whole blog for himself… he is… wonderful) and Ali, so small, with such significant joy and beauty. This was when time stopped for me. Just for a moment. I watched my sister kiss my dad, and felt the fullness of what was happening. God had written a love story, and two people full of integrity, compassion and joy, were joining to become one. My best friend was marrying the man she loved passionately. My little sister was leaving us, and there would no longer be four Lorenc girls. My dad was giving away his beloved daughter. The four of us were within five feet of one another, so close in distance, but while Katie and Keila and I shared much of the same heart, Ali’s attention was elsewhere, as it should be. The love for my family, the joy at God’s provision in Danny, the sorrow at saying goodbye to a season in our lives, the awe and worship that had welled up in me were just too much. Time stopped so that my heart could catch up, and I could start breathing again.

Life’s richness has continued to blow me away. Today I sat in an art museum with a beautiful friend, and we looked across the room at an enormous photograph of a young boy. It was full of deep blues, rose reds and golds, and the boy was poor and serious. I thought my heart would break because of the incredible mix of pain and joy, beauty and hideousness, sorrow and laughter all going on in the world. My eyes were swimming in tears, and we bowed to pray for the boy, and to thank God for creating this life. I know that the beauty is due entirely to the Creator, and that without a relationship with him, creation loses its very flavor and color. Not only is a relationship with God worth so much more than His blessings, but His blessings mean NOTHING without Him. I have to go now, but I am very blessed to be alive today. So are you.

To Ali and Danny

Tomorrow my little sister is getting married to a man who has won not only her heart, but the hearts of everyone in our family by his commitment to Christ and his love for her. Anyone who knows me knows that I admire and respect Ali as much as any woman in this world. She is steadfast, compassionate, mature and gentle, and she loves her Lord. I kind of knew she would marry first, though I would be lying to say I have dealt with it perfectly gracefully this whole time. However, I never really believed I would actually want her to marry and leave us. Until I met Danny. I can honestly say, my sister is better off in his hands. She is all those things I listed above, but since meeting him, she has become more comfortable in her own skin. He has loved her this short time with a love imitating the love of Christ, and because of this she believes more now than two years ago that she is precious in His sight.
Tonight at the rehearsal dinner the floor was opened to "roast and toast" the happy couple. It took forever, because these two have significantly impacted so many lives in that room. Each person stood up and praised Danny for his humility, his leadership, his intentionality in the lives of the men around him, and praised Ali for her faithfulness, her devotion, and the simple way in which she lives. I watched Ali and Danny as their eyes teared up, and know them well enough to know that they were deflecting the glory to their Lord, knowing these good things are from Him. There was no self-depreciation in their eyes. I saw humble gratitude there, and Christ was glorified.
This time tomorrow, Ali and Danny will have left the reception, and I have no doubt that there will be a small hollowness in my heart where they are now. But the overwhelming sentiment will be joy at what God can do in two people that love him, and gratitude that I get a front row seat to their lives. My sister is out now, spending a few more minutes with her fiance. And when she gets back it will be one more night of pj's, excitement, and Lorenc sister solidarity before she goes. I'm going to go now and soak it up. But before I did, I just had to give one more toast. To Ali and Danny. May your life together glorify our God.

the storm

She had a storm inside of her. She felt it brewing months ago, but hushed and hushed and hushed it. Wasn’t her life supposed to be characterized by peace and joy? Shhh… she whispered to the storm. I am not supposed to feel you.
She smiled and became more centered on the outside. She spoke truth into the lives of others. She shared her faith. But the storm, it grew and it grew. She could hear the thunder clanging in hear head so loudly that at times she was barely able to focus on conversation. I don’t want to burden them, she thought. I don’t want to become narcissistic. Shhhh…. storm, please, please. She would wake early and think about how to rid herself of the storm, to be closer to the One her heart desired.
He walked with her every day. She sat at her desk and brewed. He sat with her, patiently. She got in her car and cried. He was with her. He waited for her to look at Him, but she was so busy sorting out the storm and painting her serene face that it was difficult. All the while, she never knew what she was doing. What keeps me from the one I love? What keeps me?
Look at me, daughter, look at me beloved, He spoke, but the storm was so loud…
Finally, He intervened. He brewed a storm on the outside to draw out the one within. Let her see that she is building her life on sand. He carefully weaved the storm, and allowed her real hurt. She could not smile on her own any longer. When you sit in a steamed room, the steam draws out the water within. So it was with her storm. The rain on the outside matched that within. She was no longer in control of her life, and she knew it.
She fell to her face and cried, Lord, I do not know the way to which you are going! He replied, I am the way, the truth, and the life. She sighed. She had heard it before.
No, daughter. There is no path to me apart from me. You do not get your storm together to come to me. The point is not your perfection, the point is me. Look in my eyes. Look at my hands and my feet. Look at me. Lock your eyes there, and do not look away.”
She looked up with tear brimmed eyes, so relieved at having the storm on the outside, and yet, fearful of losing control. What have I to lose, she though? This is not the way. She reached for His hand, and He caught her.

“We know have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, and not from ourselves.” I Cor 4:7

“Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go to late rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sheep.” Psalm 127:1-2

study blog break...

One thing about writing is, there's a lot of unnecessary pressure that goes into it. I don't think I'm a great writer. I'm alright, but not great. Sometimes, when my wit factor is especially low, I will just not write at all, at least not anything that anyone will read. But I'll journal. I'll lazily pour pages of apathetic musings, knowing that it's only me who'll read it. I'm not feeling too witty tonight, but tonight I am writing a blog.

And do you know what? I don't have anything new to say. I don't mean since the last blog, I mean, I have nothing new to add to the world. I used to think that was a great reason to never write at all. But I read in a great book that there is nothing new under the sun, and I don't think that means that we should just sit around and not create. Sometimes Grace, the girl I nanny, and I try to add something to the world that has never been there before. I think I got this from a movie, but I can't remember. So we'll do a crazy dance, or make up a word or a face, and just, add it. What she doesn't realize is, in a sense everything that we do is new. This is the first time anyone has ever sat in the chair I'm sitting in (which is really uncomfortable) with their feet up on the counter and their broken binder in front of them (I need a new binder) writing for a blog called somewhat abbynormal. In a sense, yes, nothing is new under the sun, but maybe in the same way that this is new, old things that are said and written need to be said fresh and written fresh.

I learned this semester that we are creative. Maybe I should say, I learned this semester that you are creative. Every single human, made in the image of the Creator, is creative and should do something about it. We shouldn't be exalting the precious few artsy people we know, we should be celebrating their gifts and making use of our own! Is it writing? Is it painting? Is it baking for a friend, or making a room look nice? Is it planning a fun date for your wife? Creativity shouldn't stress us out. That reminds me of a funny story. I had a friend that had a panic attack once when her boyfriend planned this artsy date in which he bought canvas and paints for them to use. It was kind of a riot. Most girls would swoon, she hyperventilated at the idea of having to paint something. But actually, this was a good thing. She knew herself well, and really hates painting. But she is actually one of the most creative people I know. She is constantly pouring into girls lives, looking for ways to serve her husband (yes, she married the guy), caring for her family in new ways, etc. It blesses me so.

On that note, the God of the Bible is the most beautiful Being I have ever been aware of. I know that sounds abstract, but I don't know how else to say it. Tonight, I'll be honest, He feels a bit far away. But that's okay, I have promises that assure me otherwise. Have you read the Bible lately? That God... wow. Loving, wooing, judging (in the old, good and noble sense of the word), fighting, pursuing, creating, rejoicing, grieving, redeeming. Yes, the Bible is a hard book. There are stories that don't make sense. Read it anyways. Fall in love.

I suppose that's all I have to say for tonight. In 5 days I will be done with finals. My mind is so tired, I can't believe I'm awake right now. My heart is also very tired. It is not troubled, actually, it's rather quieted at the moment. But tired, and needing a rest. It will come soon!

God, let this letter bless those who read it. Let my life, and tonight, count for eternity. Give us the grace to lift our eyes to the heavens. You are King. Amen

Grace, grace, grace

I figured since I listed my blogspot on my most recent update letter I should probably... write something.

A quick update: Today is April 15th, and that means that in 22 days I will have completed my first year at Seminary. Supposedly that means I have half-mastered something. I hope my future employers will forgive me for what I'm about to say: I'm not sure I'm going to have quite mastered anything by the time I get out of here. But I am learning. I'm in Trinitarianism, Soteriology, Old Testament I, and Intercultural Communications. Just one of those subjects would be enough to occupy my heart and mind, and with all of them, I am busting at the seams. But I am so happy, so thankful to be here. I know it is useless to try to absorb absolutely everything that I learn. So I'm just praying that my heart stays soft in the midst of all this head learning.

God has faithfully answered that prayer all year long. He wants my devotion to be fully His. He wants to be first in my heart. And I want Him there too. If my heart starts to harden, or I wander, He gets my attention. Sometimes it's painful. Sometimes it's really painful. But nothing satisfied but Jesus, so the stripping away is good. How many times will we have to be taught this lesson? How many times will I attempt to place my trust in something else?

A friend of mine told that one time she was holding hands with her boyfriend. For some reason or another, she let go, and his grip immediately tightened. She told me it reminded her of God. When we let go, He doesn't. He grips us. I am so thankful, and so held by Him.

why am i inside?

Part I: she sees the storm

green against blue is lovely, and soft
but green against gray has a harsh beauty
that I sometimes prefer.

today is one of those days.

today the clouds are strong and solid
and so many different shades of grey
it's amazing there's only one name.

against this sky the leaves of trees are strong,
inviting the storm, irrationally unafraid,
dancing and laughing as they shake.

sadly, i’ve found myself in a room with no windows,
haunted by a guilty sense of irreverence at having walked out
(or walked in?)
on the skillful weaving of such a storm
to sit inside wood paneled walls.


Part II: she escapes institution through imagination

upon further inspection, I suspect that these walls
were once California oak trees
(the ones that are actually the legs of giants).
yes, they were legs of giants,
giants, before they were captured, divided,
tamed and polished
to make this dignified classroom.

so yes, i'm inside, but not in a room
i'm inside the severed leg of an ancient giant,
if i close my eyes,
i can almost feel him move.

Faith

This semester, God has been teaching me about faith. I didn't ask for a lesson on faith. I asked him to teach me about love. I did a lot of thinking and goal setting on New Years, and prayed that God would help me to see His love for me. But He chose to start with Faith. Now I am sitting in my apartment, listening to the wind howl, thinking, God really knows what He is doing. The thing is, imagining saying I love you to a child holding her hands over her hears singing as loud as she could. She wouldn't hear. She wouldn't believe. How can God show me He loves me when I won't believe it?

I have a serious faith problem. But I have a seriously gracious God. See, I want faith to be this great, rapturous feeling. I want to KNOW God is with me all the time. Essentially, I want faith to be sight. But God is asking me to trust and obey, to "act like what God says is true is true," regardless of how I feel. The thing is, God loves me, whether I feel it or not. Whether I see it or not. This is what I call GOOD NEWS.

And we glorify Him when we act in faith. When we trust and obey Him. Also good news. So even if I am a fearful, anxious, crazy mess, when I act in faith, God is honored. I am so thankful I don't have to get it together to be used by Him. I just have to respond to what He is leading me to do, and to trust Him. This isn't easy, but it's okay. We don't have to worry about messing up. Can I get an AMEN?!

So God loves me. I believe it. What a funny way to teach me about love. I wanted sunshine and flowers. He lets me go through haze, and asks me to trust Him. But oh, His ways are better than mine. I know this is true. I pray, as I'm writing this, that whoever reads this will be filled with Faith in the One True God, and put their trust in Him, and His word.

Psalm 1, Jer 17

Beautiful

I saw the sky with diamond stars
From the southern hemisphere.

I let her strong caramel voice
Calm and soothe my fear.

I put my hands into the glass
And touched an answered prayer

I watched them walking hand in hand
With aged and gentle care.

a key to joy?

"And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Col 1:17

I live in a small but lovely two bedroom apartment with three beautiful and incredibly diverse girls. The four of us are about as different as different can get. There is Chimgee, from Mongolia, a woman of God whose faith and perseverence humbles me to my core, Karen, my precious friend from Hong Kong, who always listens well and lives to please her Lord alone, Jessica, a stylish, creative and hilarious artist from Oklahoma, who loves to laugh and share, and me. More about the three of them later... they deserve a blog each. But that's just background for my story on thanksgiving.

This morning, Karen and I woke bright and early to have quiet time before class. Karen walked into the kitchen, turned on the sink and garbage disposal, and it started growling at us in a way that definitely meant it was unhappy. I walked over to inspect it with her, and we found that there was a handful tiny popcorn kernels down in the bottom... not particularly garbage disposal friendly. I reached my hand down, but they slipped and jumped and refused to be caught. It took about a full minute to grab just one. The last thing I wanted to be doing at 7 in the morning was sticking my hand down a dirty drain to fish for tiny popcorn kernels. My first response was pretty much bitter frustration. It was not cute. But then, Karen and I decided that for each popcorn kernel we pulled out we would say something we were thankful for. One at a time, we reached in, grabbed one, pulled it out, and thanked God for our apartment, his provision, something. I know it sounds cheesy, but I don't even care: It worked and our hearts changed.

God amazes me. He truly changes our hearts as we obey him. He can turn something nasty into something beautiful. Sitting in traffic, waiting in the grocery store line, having a friend forget to meet you... When we start finding things to be thankful for, or countenance just changes. This is just one more incredible blessing of being in the body of Christ- we really can be thankful, and joyful, in the most, for lack of better words, "blegh" situations.

inspired

Last week I had a hard week. But it ended pretty good. Then this week, I had a hard week. But it ended good. I'm not even sure what I want to write right now, but I know that I am so inspired, I have to write. I think I'll write about the things that inspired me this week.

1) Todd Wagner. The speaker at the DTS chapel and pastor of Watermark church. This man is rooted and grounded in the Bible, and I think as he spoke more of God's word poured out of his mouth than his own words. As a result, my soul received a splash of cool water as he reminded DTS students of who God is, and what he wants to accomplish through His church. A few of the highlights: We are sanctified, justified, made right with God, empowered with his Holy Spirit, and He wants to and will do a magnificent work through us, if we will just believe Him.

2) A woman who I met with today (who I think would prefer to remain nameless) who opens herself up to be used by God, and spoke such truth into my life, I again felt completely refreshed and uplifted. She reminded me to not look to my generation, or the people around me to tell me who I am, but to look only to God and His word. She made me laugh, and when I said something ridiculous about feeling like I wasn't worth much, she actually said, "I think I can say from a more informed perspective that your feelings are completely out of touch with reality." I LOVE IT!

3) U2. I don't need to waste anytime touting Bono, but God used him and his band and his music to remind me that I want to live an extraordinary life. I want to be poured out as a drink offering to my Lord. God gave Bono music, and a heart for the widows and orphans, and he is obeying. God didn't give me music, I'm still trying to figure out what He's given me, but He gave me SOMETHING, and I want my life, this blog, this night at my apartment in downtown Dallas, everything to be poured out for God.

Let's just think for a moment about Fear. I'm talking, capital F, Fear. This is what the Enemy uses most in my life, to paralyze me, to make me completely over analytical, to stop me dead in my tracks. The word fear is used 326 times in the NIV Bible. Most of the time, it is commanding people who claim to follow the Lord to fear their God. This kind of fear means awe, reverence, a recognition of how Huge God is, and how small we are in significance. Most of the time, we lack this sense of fear. But the thing is, this God we should Fear, is the very one who cast out all other fear! (1 John 4:18 says "there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out all fear.") So we don't need to be afraid. Of failure. Of punishment. Of messing up. Of being rejected.

Oh, how I long to live a life that counts. How I long to see the Lord work in extraordinary ways. How I long to walk near to him, trusting Him day in and day out. Again, I write this to who knows who and without shame. If you don't know Him, ask me. He's the best thing that ever happened to me.