Ordinary Time

I miss my husband. Today, seeing his picture is painful in the most wonderful way. I think of him starting his day and feel so proud of his quiet strength. He has been gone for just over a week and up until now I've felt mostly normal. This morning the distance between us hit me like a ton of bricks and I ache to be with him. He's been unfailingly generous in his efforts to call me as often as he can but the past few days have been long and busy for him and our conversations have been shorter than normal. He said yesterday that he knows of some couples who are comfortable talking once a week because they don't normally have much to say even when they are together. This seems unimaginable to us and having limits on our conversations will be one of the most difficult challenges of being apart.

Even though I don't write, I'm always thinking of things that I can put in my next post. Yesterday night I was hit strongly by the need to write about two things: community and prayer.

Dan and I have been attending Trinity Baptist since around Christmas (see my last post for an introduction). We are just starting to remember the way of life of being regular attenders and so have been inconsistent; after almost two years without a church home, it's easy to stay home instead of getting up in time to drive 25 mins to church. Still, we have slowly but surely been meeting new people, making new friends and getting involved. At the same time, we've been preparing our home and life and relationship for this extended period of separation. Two Sundays ago, Dan's departure hovered over us like a cloud as we made our way to church. Before the service, one of the pastors came over and asked if it would be alright if he prayed for us and with our consent he proceeded to lead the congregation in a pastoral prayer for us and another family. They prayed for protection over Dan and for strength for me. They included us as part of their church family and acknowledged the challenge that lay ahead for us while committing themselves in prayer and service to us. This sounds ordinary doesn't it (isn't that what churches do)? Well it marked a turning point for Dan and I.

I hate to admit it but being away from church for almost 2 years has left me with a critical and judgmental spirit. Instead of living in community, I sit back and rate (however subconsciously) how well a church is functioning. I form opinions based on appearances. I make assumptions without getting to know people. I compare services to what I think should be the most meaningful way to help people meet God. And I'm ashamed to say that I've done this all while attending Trinity. Along with all of these things, and probably in spite of myself, I've also been earnestly wondering for quite some time if God wants to do something new with me by taking me somewhere different and if that is the case, what does he want to do?

Anyway, the unexpected thing about community is that when you're really in it, nothing else really matters. Trinity enfolded us in community when we expected to go unnoticed. They gave us a gift that has blessed us immensely in a time of struggle. On that Sunday and for the few days afterwards that Dan and I had left together, we felt that God was hovering especially near to us. Sometimes you can just feel it in the air and the gratitude we felt for that change was immeasurable. I like the word 'enfold' because it's beautiful and accurate. We are surrounded by people who hold us before God.

Tomorrow morning I lead worship for the first time at Trinity. It's a hilarious thought in some ways given what I just wrote, that I would be entrusted with the job of being a lead worshiper. But maybe God is just doing a new thing. When I lead worship I like to lay down as much of myself as I can, partly because I'm nervous in front of people and when I am able to worship, God can lead others along, and partly because God does the most when I've done all I can and still feel like I haven't done enough.

Last night, after fighting uneasiness for several days, I really needed to feel God near me so I wrote for the first time in a long time. When I write, it’s almost always addressed to God because I need someone to talk to and I’m usually at the end of my own strength by the time I get to the blank page. I started my journal over 2 years ago and I named it Ordinary Time after the long season in the church calendar that is between major celebrations. Most of my life feels like it happens between anything big and it’s the day to day stuff that I feel I need to record in some way.

We do not need to carry out grand things in order to show

a great love for God and for our neighbor.

It is the intensity of love we put into our gestures that

makes them something beautiful for God.

~ Mother Teresa

Sometimes when I write, I find myself slowly writing a prayer line by line. I stop in between and feel around, testing the waters for where my gut tells me I need to go. If I stray too far from what I need to say, I start to feel uneasy, like something is unfinished. Then I reread the last line I wrote and try to stay on that path until I feel peaceful moving on. I usually end up writing quite a few repetitive lines to fully explore an area before moving on. Dan taught me to pray this way – to surrender to God and to ask forgiveness. Praying this way changes our heart before we ask God for things. By the time I get to the part about asking, I’ve already gone through the excruciating process of admitting my faults and my mistakes and asking God to forgive them and start over. (Once when Dan and I were praying, I was stuck at the surrender stage for most of the prayer and only got out a couple lines. I couldn’t do it - turn myself outwards again and stop holding on to my plans and my convictions, my adamant claims to what I thought was true and right). When I eventually make it to the part about asking God for anything, I just want God to stay close to me and always be near me. Anything he would want from me or ask of me at that point would be a given. Before I started praying this way, I would often only tell God things that were bothering me or making me anxious and only occasionally would I end up following God’s leading to pray for things that my heart needed to say, the strong passionate things, the pleas for forgiveness or clarity.

I'm reading a book called Living Prayer. In it the author describes an especially difficult period in his life when he struggled with depression. He went to a friend for help and while his friend was trying to get him to answer a question - 'Do you know the rhythm of the mass?' - all he wanted to do was complain and get quick answers. Finally, he gave his friend room to speak and what his friend was getting at is that in the rhythm of the mass, confession comes before we receive the Word because sometimes there's no room in us for the Word until we live in confession for a while. Sometimes we are so full of ourselves and our reasons for where we are that we have no room to see or hear where God wants us to go. Sometimes we pray for God’s leading but we’re not actually prepared to go there because we mostly pray out of wanting God to assent to the path we’ve already chosen. But what if we emptied ourselves of our sins and our control and waited for what God actually wanted to say? What if we left room for the Word to dwell in us?

Dan is safely in Afghanistan. The trip there was long but relatively smooth and all their baggage arrived with them. They are safe despite recent reports in the news about attacks and such. When they stopped in Dubai, Dan said it was so hot your skin tingled like you were in an oven. Afghanistan is hot but not as humid and you get used to sweating all the time. The dust is so fine it just hangs in the air. The air smells but according to Dan it's bearable. Their rooms are comfortable except for the broken air conditioner which has hopefully been fixed by now. Dan wrote this to me in an email: "We really are quite lucky, our government has done a great job of making sure we are taken care of. From how nice our rooms are, to how nice New Canada house is. A lot of other people and countries don't have the little luxuries we have. I'm quite proud of our government for working so hard for us. Now if only they could speed up time and make the next months fly by, would be great." Even so, the environment is a serious one with building-high cement barriers and barbed wire. Everyone works hard over long hours and it's definitely a focused effort in a war zone. Despite this, Dan has said that we can rest assured that they're doing a lot of good over there and that we can be proud of our country and our military.

My new favorite song of late is called 'Show Me' by Audrey Assad. It's special to me because it's full of beautiful imagery but mostly because it includes mine and Dan's special symbols from God: a tree and a warrior in battle. And it also has water. This song helps me to hope that if I'm ever broken that God will make me into something more beautiful.

You could plant me like a tree beside a river

You could tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild

and I would blossom like a flower in the desert

But for now, just let me cry

You could raise me like a banner in a battle

Put victory like fire behind my shining eyes

I would drift like falling snow over the embers

But for now, just let me lie

Bind up these broken bones

Mercy, bend and breathe me back to life

But not before you show me how to die

Set me like a star before the morning

Like a song that steals the darkness from a world asleep

And I'll illuminate the path you've laid before me

But for now just let me be

Let me go like a leaf upon the water

Let me brave the wild currents flowing to the sea

And I will disappear into a deeper beauty

But for now just stay with me.

I love you husband of my heart.