Pause - a song

I don't know if you realized what you had done.
Uncertain if it was all my fault;
Laying here desperate, seeking a plan.
Not knowing where to run.

If this is the end,
Let it come quickly.
If this is rebirth,
please let it pass.
If this is transition,
God give us mercy
I'm not certain if we will last.

Are you a product of the restrictions long ago.
Have you been formed into what you don't know.
Has the world forgotten, or did they ever see.
The beautiful one I have in front of me.

If this is the end,
Let it come quickly.
If this is rebirth,
please let is pass.
If this is transition,
God give us mercy
I'm not certain if we will last.

Please stop the noise,
Quit pretending you know.
Look there is broken body on the floor.
And as we all walk simply on by,
making comments of appearance,
they'll slowly die.

Precious Jesus,
Don't make this the end,
Let love come quickly instead.
In this new birth,
please make us whole.
Dear Lord, During transition
Please give us Your mercy
As without it I know we won't last.

Waiting with you

My husband would describe me as a loner. Now for anyone who knows me they'd see this and laugh - probably aloud. I am a people person, an extrovert among extroverts. However Phil would probably be right in this definition of me - I do things alone, the world is on my shoulders and mine alone. When I can't bear its weight anymore I come running to the ones closest to me - but I still have to run to them, they are not within my grasp. I see this lived out in the lack of weight words carry. You can send shooting arrows of fiery insults and unless you are chosen one or two, or use specifically curtailed words - you won't pierce my armor. Mind you this 'superpower' is not only for insults - it started as such, but eventually after years of building up one's armor even the tenderest of love poems will merely bounce of its steely structure.

Not being affected by words also makes it hard to discern the weight of your own words. If I am not hurt by such and such then well neither will you be. If compliments give little weight, then why would I waste my words applauding your good works.

If you think about it - an armor against words leaves one incredibly susceptible to being alone; entirely, explicitly alone. Yet the knight in the armor of titanium has a heart, even if it is hidden from others and at times himself.

"A man can keep his sanity and stay alive as long as at least one person is waiting for him." (Henri Nouwen)

God knew this about me, and brought me a spouse - a gentle warrior to fight that knight within in me and not give up. However unlike Sleeping Beauty he can not save me while I lay in a passive posture awaiting rescue.  Instead the rescue is much like the scene from the Voyage of the Dawn Treader when Aslan pulls the scales off of Eustace. It is only after he has given up his selfishness doing all he can to help the others without any guarantee of restoration. The knight in titanium armor can only be saved when willing to let go of its armor, willing to be put the other first, willing to let another help - which demands the knight to know and state their lack.

And I know you're here
Cause I need you here
Sometimes it's hard to say
That you're more than enough

And I've made mistakes
Took things I should not take
Said things I should not say
While you gave more than
Enough for me

My heart's been ripped wide open
By all the things I do not need
And your heart's been
Ripped wide open
As I keep chasing other things

My love don't run I want you
Wait here I'll come for you
My love don't hide I'll find you
Wait here I'll come for you

Sometimes it's hard to say
That you're more than enough

Moments before...

Jeremiah 6

"For from the least to the greatest of them,

    everyone is greedy for unjust gain;

and from prophet to priest,

    everyone deals falsely.

They have treated the wound of my people carelessly,

    saying, “Peace, peace,”

    when there is no peace.

They acted shamefully, they committed abomination;

    yet they were not ashamed,

    they did not know how to blush....

Thus says the Lord:

stand at the crossroads, and look,

    and ask for the ancient paths,

where the good way lies; and walk in it,

    and find rest for your souls.

But they said, “We will not walk in it.”

The prophets in the Bible are full of beautiful and painful reminders of the just God we serve. For those that have been wronged - our hearts leap at the beauty of justice. For those of us that have acted unjustly, causing harm or acting wrong - at the sound of justice our heart leaps as well, but for fear of consequence. Jeremiah - the weeping prophet, saw these reactions unfold before him as he looked out to Israel. Being the son of a priest, he would have had intimate knowledge of the ways of Israel and he would soon know by way of relationship the consequence of Israel's injustice. Yet God saw a man who would hear, whose eyes were open and used him as a vessel of His word. 

Be honest.

Be true.

Treat each other with intense care - like a mother to her child.

Don't paint a peace that is not there.

Let us blush at our sins.

When God speaks, listen.

The roads of obedience may be unfamiliar, and ancient.

Yet in obedience we find rest.

Today I was struggling with the future. Wondering if God would speak. I have a calm assurance in the deepest hidden parts of my heart. I know He will guide me, though it will not be flashy and the path will be rough, I know He will lead. This text in Jeremiah is powerful reminder that as we stand at the crossroads, we should ask not just look at its diverge. He will show us where the good way lies, and if we walk in it we will find rest for our souls. Oh the beauty of resting in our Creator.... It is a peace beyond understanding, a rejuvenation that cannot be understood by human standards. Lord help us to be willing to walk the ancient paths that bring us to You.

Commune unity

I love the word community. The simple idea of communing with unity is just enticing. Even in its messes and broken pieces community lies deep within my desires. It's hard though, building community. Familial community can often be the easiest to relate to and for the fortunate few it can offer real intimate relationships that are accepting, healthy and loving. Many community's require enrollment in certain groups, clubs, ideologies, or the like to gain acceptance. Religions also typically offer this, but often with a holistic commitment of the persons entirety not just a part. (Family can ask the same.) The hard thing I've encountered with community outside the familial circles is the time, commitment and trust that must be built in order to achieve intimate community.

I am on who attempts instant intimacy. Let's dive deep, throwing ourselves into the waters of relationship. If we don't know how to swim, well we may drown but at least we didn't live superficially in the wading pool. Honestly its worked fairly well. I can give a few examples of relationships I have built where in  a few short months I integrated myself into their life in such a way that one couldn't figure out how I got to be so close to them. Yet those same relationships didn't always end in the most loving of ways. Very often they ended with words being said that showed that the other truly didn't know who I was. Perhaps it was the morphing to be in their life that left it where my identity and who I was was forgotten even by me. That at the point where my values, hopes and dreams surfaced the community I had morphed into couldn't relate or understand. 

I have fought this obsessive battle many times since my adolescence. I joke that I stalk people - but honestly with the creation of social media keeping tabs on certain individuals has never become easier. While the desire for community is healthy and right the means into which one participates in community can decide whether it is a right thing. 

I lay my pride at the altar

crying out all it's pains

But when the music over

I pick it up all over again

My desires, obsessions,

Every thought in my head

runs over and over

with thoughts of me instead

No consideration,

No thought of you,

In my desperation

I might seek the truth

But in my limelight

I pretend to be someone else

Could You take all I am?

Forming me in Your lovely hands.

My desires and longings,

You know their deepest parts.

The whispers and shouting,

attempting to speak what I don't know.

Intimacy

community

All I see is Your hand in mine

Trinity

Unity

All I want is to be a part.

Strip away my facade,

give me strength to leave my pride

at the altar, at the altar....

And I will be 

made new

And I will be

a part of You

I rest, I rest, I rest in You

I will rest, I will rest, I will rest in Your truth

I will rest in the knowledge of Your Word

I will rest in the promise of Your Body

Community

I want to be intimate with you

Not for my own gain

But for the glory of His name

Hallelujah,

He is faithful, He is faithful, He is the faithful to the end

He is faithful, He is faithful, He is the faithful my Friend

Hallelujah I will never walk alone.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah I will never walk alone.

Amen. 

Neither Wrong nor Right

I have long struggled with gender identity. Really for that matter I've always struggled with others defining my identity. Since gender is often the most typical and often the first 'box' our identity fits into, it has been the area I have fought with the longest. Yet God has been bringing this issue up consistently for the last couple of months. I have lashed out in response to His moving, as I don't appreciate being told what to do (even by God, and yes I know I still have rebellion and trust issues). I don't believe I am wrong, but if my heart hurts this bad on this issue I am certainly not right either.

Last night in one of many discussion with my husband, he told me "Traci, you are not wrong or right - you are wounded." My wounds make it hard to see or hear right and wrong discussions in the area of gender.

I am a music person - songs play through my end like an endless radio. Often though certain snippets of songs play on a very long repeat. There are two songs that have played in my head lately:

You lead me and keep me from falling
You carry me close to Your heart
And surely Your goodness
And mercy will follow me, will follow me

(Chris Tomlin "All the Way My Savior Leads Me")

So roll over me
I'll just sink down, I'll just sink down
To the bottom of the sea
I'll just be here, I'll just be here

The cannons have fired
They call my name
I know that I'll lose
And I'll go just the same

And I'll take all the blows
(The cannons have fired)
Cause they hit one by one
(They call me name)
Even if I'm afraid
(I know that I'll lose)
I'm not gonna run
(And I'll go just the same)

(Autumn Film "Roll Over Me")

While the latter song deals with loss, they both tend to relate to the inner struggles and even the relationship I have with God.

I don't want to be wounded,
blood gushing on the floor.
I don't want to be broken,
Unable to get out the door.
I don't want to be told,
of who I am by anyone but You.

So speak life, and I'll live.
Speak joy, and I'll dance.
Speak love, and I will lay down my life and my pride.
Speak purpose, and I'll lay down mine.

Your wounds had not conquered You.
They showed the places,
You had come from.
The cross, the grave, even Sheol,
Could not hold You.
You were broken but made whole.
You knew who You were,
no one could say otherwise.

You spoke life, and the dead arose.
You spoke wholly, and the lame could walk.
You spoke love, and You laid down Your life.
Its Your purpose that I long for.

No power of death,
No scheme of man,
No lies for Sheol,
Will change who I am.
You made me,
You formed me,
You know me,
and You love me.
So I will trust,
that You know the way.
I will trust You know why I've been made who I am.

But I will lay down,
my expectations.
My restrictions I take to the cross.
My rules, my will, my mold I give,
to the One who is, the I AM. 

I don't believe we are to live confined in a box of gender, of race, of locality, of anything. We have been set free as sons and daughters of Christ. But on the flipside we can not take our freedom and simply create a new box of our identity - being formed into our own image and defining our own reality. We are citizens of a new Kingdom, daughters and sons of a new order, we live in the tension of already-not yet. Thus we should reflect beautifully the identity that God our Father has given us - discovering His love and purposes for us. The moment we put ourselves into a 'free for all' type identity we have as quickly voided the purposes God has created us to be, as when we live blindly by the stereotypes the world has given us to live by. We are all beautiful and wonderfully made - let us discover what that means through the dance of relationship with the Holy Trinity.

Memories

Today was the 9th year since my grandmother passed away.

It's funny how we can build our life in relationship with or contrast to those who have been a part of our lives. In memories that I have of my Nanny - most of my life has been influenced by the contrast of who she was.
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1. She was an alcoholic I remember being between 10-12 and trying to help her make into her bedroom, her breath strong with Vodka (her drink of choice) as she stumbled and fell - mostly crawling to the room. My father has memories of similar scenarios most of his childhood. While I enjoy alcoholic beverages, a beer or glass of wine, I will never buy or own Vodka nor do I order drinks that contain it. Because of her alcoholism I have decided to never have hard liqueur available in my home and refuse to have much drink available to myself. 
1. Yet she did not stay an alcoholic  My aunt and my father told her that relationships would be cut off if she didn't get help. But no progress was made. When her best friends called "Le Girls" got involved, threatening the same disconnect my Nanny entered into the Betty Ford Rehabilitation Clinic in California. From that point on she never drank again - though she certainly missed it and often bought O'Douls in the alcoholics stead. It was a drink I could enjoy with her as it was non-alcoholic, and it made me so greatly appreciate the change in her.
2. She doubted God. Growing up in a matriarchal home of San Francisco becoming a debutante in the backdrop of WWII - God was always present but rarely active. She and my grandfather loved the Episcopal Church - it was the tradition they were married into, gave their membership, attended, financially supported and would be remembered in. Yet I remember when Da Vinci Code came out. I had heard of the controversy but thought little of it; that was until my Nanny and I were in a hotel room laying in bed reading our respective books. Nanny mentioned something about doubting God, wondering if the book was true and not being certain of God. I died a bit inside at that. Having met God in a real way at the tender age of seven and being called into the ministry shortly thereafter I couldn't fathom doubting His presence - especially through a work of fiction. I made some comment on trusting God, and tried my best theological encouragement my tween mind could muster - all while tears ran down my face being hidden by the lamp between our beds. 
1. Yet in her doubting, and her wondering and wanderings I know she knew Him. Her life had not reflected His glory as it could have, nor did she have the faith I knew she could have had - but she knew Jesus. When I heard her diagnosis of cancer the third time around in almost two decades I knew it was the end of her life. I didn't know when she'd die, and honestly I think my dad and I forgot we mourned her imminent death that day we heard the news of cancer. But in the midst of it all - those last few months I did not doubt her place in heaven. I knew she'd see Jesus on the other side and He would welcome her home. I know in earthly forms it would be a bit uncomfortable and foreign to her but her eternal soul would rejoice at the home she would be in. 
3. She doubted who I was. During my tween years when many peers had boyfriends, I did not. I had had a friend ask if I was a lesbian because my intense turn off to guys. In reality it was not the lack of attraction to the opposite sex, but rather the intense pain I had felt after years of bullying and exposure to sexual perversion. Being asked your sexuality as a conservative, Christian tween in 2000 was anything but an encouragement of your identity - at least for me. My Nanny asked me the same question around the same time. At the time I was hurt and shocked but thankfully I was able to let it go, and quickly. In hindsight it honestly seems non coincidental that that question was brought up - if I had allowed others to speak into being their perspective of my identity then or ever, I would have lost myself. God protected me from carrying that burden. I still wish Nanny had never asked that, that she would have known me better. But I know she would now and I wouldn't be as afraid to say who I really was.
   
4. I am grateful for the gift of journey she gave me. Living in Colorado to her Californian location meant either I wouldn't see her or she'd have to fly me out to see her. My sister Lizy and I were very blessed to have the opportunity to fly many times in our early, early childhood (5-8) and visit my Aunt Traci and Nanny in California and other places around the West. We visited Yellowstone and other parts of Wyoming, traveled to many parts of California and other states. Nanny and I would go on an East Coast Tour (ironically during September 11th 2001). Nanny had planned on taking us to Kenya on a Safari until she got cancer the 2nd time. She and my grandfather had worked hard for their wealth, and in their 40s and 50s traveled around the world. Her house had treasures from all their visits. She had hundreds of National Geographic magazines. I was exposed to diversity and culture in her home - though abstractly rather than experientially. The stories of being in Tiananmen Square right before the protests, visiting presidents, eating dinner with Bob Hope, seeing Moscow and St. Petersburg, experiencing the African safaris. It was a dream as a child hearing of these tales. I fell in love with traveling from her. While she had stayed in the same area of the country her whole life, she traveled and experienced worlds I only could imagine. Her grandmother had been a Norwegian immigrant at the turn of the century - and married a sea captain only to find out he had a woman at every port. The familial folklore is that she was the first woman in San Francisco and perhaps California to file for divorce. I heard the stories of the Great San Francisco Fire, and felt as though I was there right in the middle of it all. Nanny could weave a tale, that honestly left you longing to hear more. As an adult I wish so much to remember those stories, to hold onto my heritage and the beauty of family. 
5. I am grateful for the gift of hospitality. This is a gift she gave me, one that I have heard a couple times and it wasn't until this week that I got "hit in the face" by its truth. While serving and overseeing an event at church, I was walking around making sure everyone was content, eyeing the atmosphere to ensure an enjoyable evening. In the midst of this I felt incredibly distant from the situation I was in, though I was physically close to many people. I felt alone in the midst of a room of friends and siblings in Christ. It was then that I was reminded of the memorial of Nanny. Many old friends and acquaintances showed up for her, and I remember doing a similar thing like Friday night. I walked around, greeting, ensuring others were okay, consoling friends, smiling, making sure everything looked and felt right. I had spoken during the service and received many compliments afterwards. Those words went right through me, and while I appreciated them it left little impact. I wanted to make sure everyone was okay, it wasn't about me. It that celebration and memorial I felt as though I was making my Nanny proud in living up to the Bliss name of excellence. It was certainly not my motivation but I felt that as I stood back looking around the room. Nine years later I found myself doing the same thing - attempting to make another person proud and having the situation live up to their name and reputation. I went back to the nursery and teared up at the memory of my Nanny. I told Phil that perhaps my hospitably gift was just working out of a wound and that maybe now it'd be fixed and I could move on. Instead of agreeing with me, he asked maybe this was my calling. That this gift of shepherding a community with specific hospitality intentions was not just genetic mishap, or response out of loss but a gift and calling God had, and would continue to form in me. 
1. I never went to a party that Nanny hosted. But I heard they were amazing. She was a charming woman, who was able to take care of the details while seeing to the relational needs of her guests. While my grandfather had been alive they were known to be the life of the party - and certainly the hosts of the party. I have been called the life of the party (though certainly not in the same fun way my sisters and brother are). I have been much too serious most of my life to allow fun, but I would hope I bring life like my Nanny did.
2. I want to bring life to the dead and dying. I want to offer light to a darkened world. I have prayed over and over that God would make me endlessly thirsty for His waters so I would overflow in order for the world to taste and see that the Lord is good. I have a philosophy and theology of intentional community, and I could weave you a tale of why I believe that will save people. Stories can often bring one to the door of salvation, where all you are is a knock away from meeting your Savior. I want to facilitate that kind of hospitable community. My dad always said I was like my Nanny in that way, but I never heard him. I never wanted to, but now I do. I am grateful for the stories of those who have gone before me - whether they understood who I was or not. Their stories, their relationships fed into me life that pushed me to the Truth and the Life. There is so many things I wish I could apologize to my Nanny for, so many things I wish I could demand from her now, there are many wishes but I am learning to be ever so grateful for the gifts I received from her. 

I have prayed for a certain healing on and off for the last 3 years, ever since my wonderful professor Dr. Daniela Augustine mentioned it in our Coffee, Cake and Theology meeting. It is the idea of having our memories redeemed. If the God of the universe has healed our bodies, saved our souls, and brought us into new covenant with Him, He can certainly help our minds be made new. For many of us this means make right the memories we have. He does not change the experiences we had, but rather offers us the perspective of glory throughout those experiences. Rather than only seeing the darkness we can begin to see the light threaded throughout our life. I look forward to walking more fully into that healing, my fractured memories need it. But I am grateful that I can see a glimpse of that now and want to thank the Lord for letting it begin with the wonderful grandmother I had. I greatly appreciate how my Heavenly Father has weaved through this last week (which saw the birthday and death of my Nanny) circumstances to help me see her impact on my life and His desires for me. It is healing thought indeed to see God's intentional love in our daily life. 

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Jesus Lord of Heaven
I do not deserve
The grace that You have given
And the promise of Your Word
Lord I stand in wonder
Of the sacrifice You made
With mercy beyond measure
My debt You freely paid

Your love is deeper than any ocean
Higher than the heavens
Reaches beyond the stars in the sky

Jesus, Your love has no bounds
Jesus, Your love has no bounds

Your love is deep, Your love is wide
Your love is great, Your love is high
Your love is all we ever need
Your love is all we ever need

Friends

Dear Friend,

Thank you.
While we've had our ups and downs, and our odd therebetween - the months we wouldn't talk, and the late evenings we enjoyed in each others company - I consider you a friend. One I'd willingly lay my life down for. Of late its certainly been the months of not seeing each other; life happens. The obstacles we must overcome in our own lives can often cloud the ability to be with another - I understand this but I am sorry I didn't help carry you as much as I wish I could have.

You made my day. Even in these awkward in between you showed your humor and playful side by meeting us in our isolated state. While the masses went straight you veered to the left just so we wouldn't feel so alone. You didn't have the necessity to partake in the 'special' bread, and yet you did - for my sake, so I wouldn't look 'so sad'. Friend, you brought an inexplicable joy in such a small gesture.

Yet you did not stop there, in the midst of the altar - while seeking the Lord for His presence, you stayed. Your tarry turned into hands on prayer for us when no one else did. You saw us, when all the eyes were turned toward another. In the midst of a community of 'ins' you, on the outside remained there with us, your love has rocked my soul in profound ways. Thank you.

I wish I could make this world right for you. Turn back the clock, undo the pains that have been caused by you and others. To return innocence lost. Yet we live in a world of consequences, but I pray.... I pray for grace inexplicable, healing unexplained, miracles anew for you. That the grace you bestowed, whether unwittingly or fully knowledgeable  would be heaped onto you a hundred fold. I knew in that moment of veering, that act of tarrying, I would never be alone - that if the world started to come undone you would be there. Even if there is months between us again, thank you brother and sister for being my friend. I pray that the Lord lifts you to high places, far away from the reaches of condemnation and the world's hypocritical judgement. I love you, and His love for you overflows like the ocean.

Yours most sincerely,

Sister in Christ