there is a stillness here. i stand on top of glacier point and breathe. three waterfalls, half dome. how do you write about holy ground? dad and i, we climbed the rocks to feel the spray of yosemite falls on our face. there's a purity here and stirs up all my restlessness. it takes a while to accept the silence.

California

Those that call California young

have not met California.

Those that scoff at the plastic faces

plastered on all of our advertisements

have not met a farmer, seen the lines on his face,

nor shaken his hand missing fingers.

Those that call California young

have not met California.

She wears her age in her dirt.

Old vine Zinfandel growing for 100 years,

evergreen oak tree's roots reaching deep

into the soil and the brick.

Even her roots look like bark.

California wears her age in her dust

circling us and settling on antique hearts.

And I sit and pause on her piers,

looking out onto the rocks the take the

beating of the ocean.

And I wonder if when the Spirit, resting on the

earth without form and void,

if he rested longer on this place.

So carefully, oak trees look like fathers

poised on the rolling hills -

our protectors.

So gently, hills look like mothers

guiding us home -

our comforters.

Those that call California young

have not met California.

The earth is so old here it makes me

wonder if we even belong-

intruding on sacred spacial history.

living in california sometimes feels like living the promise land. land flowing with milk and honey. land flowing with his presence and provision. is it real that he could be this faithful? it is dumbfounding. and beautiful. and so so fun to smile so often.

the L-RD loves me, that he loves me, that he loves me, that he loves me.

how do i know? i hoped my new bedroom window to look out at the birdbath and feel the sweet autumn air and what do i notice for the first time?

a window box. with a single orange flower blooming. it is like the simplest whispers of my heart are coming true with each passing day.

how good it is to be a child.

Thursday Morning

I am so thankful for this year.

meditations/ zacchaeus

i wonder what it might be like to climb a tree just for the sake of his face. i wonder if he was climbing a tree both to see his face but also to hide. a man so despised isn't always welcomed into the salvation circle. men like to see salvation come to the helpless, not the thieves. he must have sensed the hunger in those hands and feet that climbed the tree. i wonder if, in walking by the tree, the depth of his soul responded to zacchaeus. as deep cries out to deep, come over for dinner. and aren't they one in the same? i am lonely L-RD. come dine with me. come buy food and drink, you who have no money. and we buy the food of the L-RD at no cost to ourselves. eat of me. eat my flesh, drink my blood. what a strange beginning to a religion. or, what a most obvious sign that he was in love. i love you, my church, my bride, come take all of me. eat of me. let me pour myself out for you. does not a mother do the same?

and then the part the moves me so deeply is that the holy one chose the hungry one and they dined together. zacchaeus ate up his love and the lovely one ate up his hunger. and they were both satisfied. and zacchaeus, i imagine, finally felt known, loved, accepted, seen. which is what i imagine it is like to look into his eyes. to melt with so much humility because it is impossible to be proud and to be loved. that amount of grace brings a person to his knees. and we stand so tall so often because no one is standing with us.

my favorite part: zacchaeus meets love and is moved by love. love does not allow him to stand still. and love this overwhelming compels a person to say, i'd do anything for you. i'd even give half of what i own to the needy. i'll even repay what i stole. i'll even be less so you can be more.

lower, still.

and for all of this, and so much more, i pray: come dine with me. i want to see your face.

and for all of this, i long for his invitation. to be the one he sees. to be the one he calls out. to be recognized in my hiding and to rest in his gaze. what beauty there is in salvation. what romance.

i am terrified of so much wasting.

I want to look like you

I recently spent an evening being a trendy white person with my loving, caring, authentic, life-saving roommate who hardly fits any stereotype at all and makes me laugh everyday and is beyond good to me, watching TED talks. On this particular evening, we watched a talk about empathy. At one point, i heard something very interesting. Babies learn by empathy. We are soft wired. When we see tears, we cry. When we see laughter, we laugh. Babies learn everything by copying. Adults practice compassion through empathy.

This is something I liked hearing because I have often liked the idea of empathy.

And then tonight. I sat with a woman and she was beautiful but she was lost without a home. And we bowed our heads and asked Jesus for love, more love. And a home and a job. Because love, in this case, would look like a home and a job.

And I left frustrated. I left with so much longing. My heart is too small! I don't have enough empathy because I look at her and do not feel that her plight is my plight. More than that. Jesus why can't your glory presence fall on two women who need your love right there on the sidewalk on Osos street? Why can't your sweet Holy Spirit come like rushing waves and spread love?

And I left frustrated because Jesus, I want to look like you. And I thought, how well you have designed us, to learn by empathy? You have made me to look at you and then to act like you. And so I ran home, mumbling like the crazies. Jesus, I want to look like you. Jesus, I want to look like you. Father, give me your heart. Give me your heart. I need so much of your love so that everyone I meet knows your love too. That's what you looked like, Jesus. That's your heart, Father.

And I write this only so that someone else might think a little bigger too. Why can't love mean something meaningful? Why can't Jesus hang out on Osos street? And then I pray: Sing, O barren woman...Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. Give me new wine skins, O L-RD, that I might hold more of your new wine. I want to look like you.

and i knew that he was good.

and i laid there, still, feeling every bit of tension struggle in my spine. and i was fighting to find a place that didn't hurt, that didn't feel so crooked. and his peace was falling over me. and all of the tension dissolved into tears and i laid there, crying. and he whispered in my ear, you don't know how to be helpless. and i laid there, helpless, in so much need of a healing, a realignment, that i cannot bring. and i knew that i was helpless. and i knew that he was good.

checklist/ facing my fears

_bed frame

_mattress

_night stand

_dresser

_mirror

_2nd job

_November 1st rent check

Three weeks to get it all together. Ready, set, go!

Psalm 116

"I love the Lord , for he heard my voice; he heard my cry for mercy. Because he turned his ear to me, I will call on him as long as I live."

I think I discovered Psalm 116 my freshman year of college. Meditating through David's songs, I found this one. I love the Lord because he gave me his hand of mercy. I love the Lord because he extends his hand and gives me peace. When I cried out to know the Lord's love, he loved me. When I cried out to know his peace, he soothed me.

In California, I am learning to walk by these words. Life by faith is getting to be a little bit fun. Everyday I wonder, how will the next step come to be? And, every question is answered by his hand. Life by faith isn't scary anymore. I get to pray things like, "God, I need this, how will you provide it?" I do not have to ask if he will. I just get to watch. "I love the Lord, for he heard my voice...The Lord protects the simplehearted; when I was in great need, he saved me. Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you." There has never been a need he has not met. There is no more anxious yearning. There is only patience, peace. There is so much joy in the waiting for him to come.

In these words I look to him and say, I need not fear. I need not fear what will come next. You have been good. You have been good. And faith-full-ness is a lot more fun than fear. I need not fear that you are a bad father. I need not worry that you do not care.

And the King is coming home! I am stocking up my oil for when my bridegroom comes back for me. He is coming. I will wait for him with so much pleasure in my heart.

wonder

i've been doing a lot of awe-gazing lately.

everything that's right with this picture: dirty hands, wild hair. butterfly, and pinot noir.

Hosea 6

His promises are still faithful! His promises are everlasting! He is still doing what he did so many years ago.

"Come, let us return to the LORD.
He has torn us to pieces
but he will heal us;
he has injured us
but he will bind up our wounds.

After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will restore us,
that we may live in his presence.

Let us acknowledge the LORD;
let us press on to acknowledge him.
As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth."

In Him we live and move and have our being.

I am so thankful! I am so thankful! There is a small stream building into a rushing river in me. I feel it! My heart is growing soft with so much life. There is so much life.

Can it be? Can I always feel this light? Like my heart has lifted above my tired, heavy shoulders, singing over me? Can it be that I miss him after only an afternoon? Can he really be this good? This coming back to life is so slow and steady, and I sometimes have to stop and notice. I am more alive that I was three months ago.

A new (heart) season

There is something in the California air that tells me I am a wife and I am a mother. In the cement, real life way of things, I am not a wife and I am not a mother. But the soft earth that gives way to so much life tills my heart. What froze in the harsh New England winter is thawing in the California autumn. Today we had wind and a chill and leaves swirled around my feet and dropped into my coffee. I walk through our sweet little downtown on the brink of falling in love. I wrap myself in my sweater, and notice my hands are lonely for a more permanent friend. My finger feels too bare; it is missing something gold.

And these were not thoughts that I intended to think. I did not intend to catch myself thanking G-D for the daughters I will raise, to imagine the stories we will tell to one another. I did not intend to be so tired of all this flirting, to be tired of all men except for the one with a beard and rough hands. And I surprise myself. I ask Holy Spirit to be my best friend. I light up at the sight of kittens and giggling little children.

I dream of cream gowns and red lips. Of lavender growing in my window boxes and bread baking in my kitchen. Of children laughing in the bearded man's arms. And even, of buying a bed.

A little project for Rachael, take one.

There is no need to be ashamed.

I, too, am I a woman.

My heart has also been shattered

and broken at the expense of

someone's name I don't remember.

And he never asked for mine.

I am not the same as you,

and I don't pretend to be.

I have not seen the terrors that haunt you

or watch you.

But, I, too, am I a woman.

There is no need to be ashamed.

Let me whisper something into your heart,

let me tell you the secret hope that pulses through me.

He works all things together for your good.

His love will cover you,

and clothe you in goodness, and mercy.

Woman, let me tell you,

there is no judgement held against you.

Let love cover you.

A tree

There was once a tree who bent down to pick me up. He said, you are too small; let me make you bigger. His branches stooped down below my head and curled around my waist. His branches held me. And up, up, up we went! Beyond my head, there are leaves. Beyond my vision, there is sky. And up, floating, in the midst of the leaves on top of the sky I am in your arms. I am in your arms.

There was once a tree who bent down to pick me up. He said, your heart is too small; let me makes it bigger. He picked me up and then he lowered me down, down. Everyone was a skeleton and all I could see was their hearts. They were melting. All of these hearts were melting and they were grey. Some had been thrashed and others were so bruised, they were dented. Crying, I said, take me out of here tree! He drew me out and then I look at myself, hidden in the leaves, and I saw that I was naked. There were bruises all around my heart.

And I cried, tree, having a heart is painful. And he said, but you are the luckiest one. You get to be human. I am simply a tree, a resting post. Now, go be a human and love all the other humans you can. Let me tell you a secret. And then the tree took me up into his crook of his neck and whispered, when you love the humans, their bruises go away and their grey becomes colour.

I'm Coming Home.

I'll be home for Christmas. It's official.

Northeast, I've missed you.

See ya December 9th.