A beginning?

Last night was a good night. God spoke to me and through me, and I feel like a new chapter in my life has begun. The seeds of...something just starting to bud.

It started out inauspiciously, as most days do: I worked 9am-5pm, a long tiring shift. I really don't like working Sundays. It doesn't matter that I get other days off in a week--if I have to work Sunday I just don't feel as rested. It's firmly cemented in my subconscious as the day to rest. Sunday is for getting up slowly, reading some of the paper with a mug of steaming chai tea in hand, then heading over to church, then home again for more newspaper reading and hanging out with family and just being. Anyways, my church had an evening service last night due to Thanksgiving. I was debating about going, because I was tired and sore after work. My right knee has been aching this week, and I just feel very worn out. But I usually get to go to Sunday services only twice a month because of my work schedule, so I went.

I drove over there half an hour early, because my favorite restaurant, the Wilde Roast Cafe, is about three blocks south of where my church meets. I usually don't walk that far without my leg braces, but I really, really like Wilde Roast's chai tea. It was a perfect cool, crisp evening in Northeast Minneapolis: no wind, the stars peeking through the scattered clouds, and the city....oh, that skyline! As a city girl, I love my skyline, especially at night. Downtown Minneapolis has a lot of skyscrapers that are mostly wrapped in glass. It glitters and shimmers like a jewel after the sun goes down. It was unusually quiet last night as I walked. The rhythm of my boots hitting the sidewalk and the distant ever present sound of the highway were all that I heard. It was glorious to be honest. There were a few people here and there ahead of me, but pretty much it was just me and the city. It has a song, you know. On night's like that you can really hear the city sing. To me, it's beautiful. I got my chai tea and headed back. I was walking along St. Anthony Main,which has this old world feel to it, with uneven cobblestone sidewalks. I looked up this stairway that leads up the hill...and there was an old church all lit up, its stained glass windows shining out into the night. It was just perfect. "Thank you, God." He knows me so well--I'm easily pleased with little moments like that. And again, no one else was about. I was already glad I'd decided to come to church. It was quiet and beautiful....and expectant. It's hard to explain, but I feel God's presence in moments like that. Not like I could reach out and touch Him, but just that He's there; and I know He orchestrated that particular instance for me because it gave me such quiet joy. I was ready for church after my brisk walk and warm drink.

And church was amazing. It was a special Thanksgiving service, so no sermon, just worship music and an open mic for people to share about God's goodness in their lives. There was a little thing off to the side for people to write down an "Ebenezer," which means "stone of help or testimony," a memorial to what God has done. As soon as I heard that, I felt God poking me to get up and speak.

Over the last few months, I've been having "stone of testimony" be brought up by different sources that are completely unrelated to each other. When that happens, I listen, because obviously, God's trying to get something through to me. I feel like He's telling me to stop living in fear and be bold, to speak out about what He's done in my life. It started when I wrote the full story of my wings to a pen pal friend, then I felt convicted to share that story so publicly on this blog. And last night, I felt I had to share some of that testimony at church. I really don't like public speaking, by the way. I literally tremble when I'm standing in front of others like that. So I sat and fidgeted in my chair, my heart in my throat, knowing I had to get up, walk to the front and turn and face the crowd...and speak. I sat through others' stories and was the last one to share. I couldn't not do it. I was compelled, though my heart was beating like crazy.

My mind had been spinning, trying to figure out the right words, to make it pretty and polished. I mentally hushed myself as I stood. If God wanted me to speak, He would give me the words to say. And so I shared about how God has been teaching me about stones of testimony recently, that when He brings the same message from different sources, I need to listen and obey what I hear. I said I'm thankful for freedom, that Christ has redeemed and saved me from darkness.I gave a brief background on my wings and how I am a living stone of testimony to God's goodness.
I was open, vulnerable, honest; my body shook and I thought my voice trembled. I had to rest my free hand on the podium, because it was shaking so badly. I spoke briefly of being abused and the darkness and isolation that I felt. How hard it is to speak of it, because the devil wants us to think we're alone and no one else would want to know, that they would be disgusted. The shame, guilt, fear and self loathing that overwhelm and isolate. The thought that, "No one can know, it's too dark, too disgusting....too shameful. I feel unclean and unworthy." But I said that God doesn't want me to live in fear anymore. He was redeemed me, walking into my darkness and not leaving me there. He wants to me to be bold and speak of what He has done in my life. That without Him, His goodness and mercy, I would be bereft and broken. I know goodness and light because I have experienced evil and darkness. I can say God IS GOOD from experience not sappy naivete. Life is not a Thomas Kinkade painting, I know that...but there is still good to be found, it's just not the "everything is always kittens and rainbows" kind. It's goodness forged like gold refined through fire.

I spoke for a few minutes, then walked back to my seat and sat down. After the service, I had multiple people come up to me and thank me for sharing. I had a few really good conversations, with the possibility of forging some deeper connections. I've been attending this church off and on since this summer...but something changed last night. I'm not an outsider anymore. I mean, I didn't feel excluded at all before...but there was an irrevocable change, a forging of....something. I'm not quite sure yet, but it feels like a beginning to something good. I mentioned to Hannah after I got home last night, that it feels like a new chapter in my life is getting underway, that there's promise of something deeper and challenging (in a good way) coming my way. We shall have to see where this story leads.

Blast from the past

I was reminded the other day of something I used to do during my tween and early teen years. Back before Youtube, Facebook, Twitter or Myspace were in existence, e-mail was king. Nobody had ever heard of an iPod, "blog" was just starting to be accepted as a word, dial-up was still standard, small children were not yet toting around their own cell phones, and I had my very own email account. It was supposed to be spirit_of_love, but I was in a hurry and didn't double check the spelling...so it ended up being sprit_of_love. That was always confusing to people.

Anyways, I was a deep thinking homeschooled teeny bopper with a bad hair cut and wanted to encourage others. I started sending out a weekly e-mail where I would write out a few Bible verses and talk about them and what they meant to me. I used to keep a Bible journal and would jot down verses that stuck out to me, and that's what I used in my e-mails. I can't remember how long I did that, but it was at least a couple years. One of the pastors at my church even mentioned my e-mails in a sermon once, which totally put me on cloud nine. I had deep thoughts to share and people actually wanted to read them! That was some serious validation for my young heart. 

Over time though, I started getting discouraged (this was also when I was feeling disconnected from God and struggling with some depression). I felt alone and distant from people my own age, frustrated with my peers' lack of maturity and focus on shallow things. It became a battle to even sit down and type up anything. I'd think, "Oh, nobody reads this, or if they do they're just being nice. You don't really have anything to say. How can you tell others what God says in His Word when you feel like He's distant from you?" Eventually I just petered out and stopped writing them. I felt hypocritical--how could I write about Jesus and faith when I was struggling and feeling doubt? Then I felt silly--what did I, as young teen girl, have to say that mattered; who was I to say what the Bible meant? And lastly, disappointment--how pathetic that I couldn't even sit down to type up a few words about the book I said I believed in, some Christian I was.

Looking back on it now, I realize that Satan really doesn't like it when God's Word gets read or spoken of. The devil does everything in his power to make sure a person never turns to Jesus. If that fails and someone becomes a believer, his backup strategy is to make sure they never bear any fruit, remaining a nominal, inconsequential Christian. Those who stand up and try to be bold and different face great attack on many fronts. I've heard from people here and there over the intervening years how much they enjoyed what I wrote. That people still remember those e-mails almost a decade later tells me I was onto something. But I got beaten down. As I've shared before, I was battling a lot of darkness during my teens, and it got the best of me at times.

In the last few years, my faith has gotten stronger and deeper. Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church has been a particularly amazing blessing--his teaching has helped my understanding of God and love for Him to blossom. Jesus has become real to me in a way I can't adequately describe. I understand now that doubt and questions are okay and even beneficial at times. I know now that speaking boldly for Christ brings repercussions and to be prepared for spiritual attack. And sometimes God chooses to speak through zealous young people who long to go deep. I hope to keep my zeal as I add maturity and life experience to it. 

I despise cookie cutter Christianity

A while back I heard that Brio Magazine folded. And I was so happy to find that out. Let me explain why. As someone who grew up in fairly conservative Christian circles, Brio was the magazine to read if you were a girl. And I hated it. Sure, it had some good things to say, but the overall focus was modesty and purity. Like that is the most important part of being a Christian girl apparently. Actually, it was more MODESTY and PURITY!!! As if the pit of Hell would open up under you if your belly button ever saw the light of day or you wore *gasp!* spaghetti strap tank tops. Because that is the definition of a good Christian girl for some: you're modest and pure. That's it. As in the rest of our culture, it's all about the outward appearance, albeit with a different focus. Instead of pushing how sexy you can go, it's how covered can you get without dying of heat exhaustion?

We match our curtains!

There is definitely worse out there,
but I want to keep this family friendly

Brio was predominantly pink and shades thereof. It was as sweet and saccharine as cotton candy dipped in honey. "Oh, surely you exaggerate, Elisabeth." Exhibit A, ladies and gentlemen.

I rest my case

Here's the thing, I'm no hater. I'm a Christian, I love Jesus, I think His followers should be different from the surrounding culture. Teen fashion magazines in general are waaaay too sexualized, yet still offer some sage advice. I would love to see a teen magazine that bridges the gap between being culturally relevant and encouraging and nurturing a deep, vibrant, active faith. Brio was not that, in my opinion. It was sugary, sappy, fluffy christianity-lite. It tried to be too many things poorly. And don't get me started on the much hyped Brio And Beyond. It was supposed to cover deeper issues and such for older teen girls. The cover was different...and it literally had one extra article, otherwise all the content was the same. 

My sisters and I preferred to read Breakaway, which was aimed at boys. The difference alone in the covers tells you quite a bit. If you Google "Brio Covers" you see multiple images of smiling girls not really doing a whole lot of anything. However "Breakaway Magazine Covers" returns very different results, generally action shots of males doing something. (The passive vs. active imagery is a great commentary on how girls and boys are "supposed to behave," but that's another post in itself). Breakaway would actually cover tough, relevant teen issues, like cutting or addiction to porn or suicide. Matters of the heart and soul were well represented in addition to outward appearance (they had an ongoing section on exercise routines).

I'm weird, I know that--I've always had a desire to "go deep," striking out for the deeper waters of faith and thought rather than wading in the shallows of superficiality. But surely I can't be the only one who chafes against this portrayal of "feminine" Christianity? I wear skinny jeans, tank tops, jewelry, makeup (when the mood strikes)...but I also love long flowy skirts, peasant shirts and leaving my face au natural. 

My sisters and I are the prime example for not trying to lump Christian girls into one box:

Leah working security at Sonshine

Hannah surfing

Me in my Ren Fest best

We all love Jesus, yet we each follow Him in our own way. We don't follow what others say we should be, but what the Bible says a righteous Christian is. And it don't say nothing about wearing frumpy clothes and pretending like we don't have a brain.

At the end of the day, my point is not that I hate Christian publications (I don't), or that I never wear pink (I do), or that Christianity is stupid (it's not). It's just to call out that overemphasis on outward appearance and external actions for girls I've seen in the Christian circles I've run in growing up. We need to find that healthy middle ground and not swing to either extreme as we live out being women who love Jesus.

NOvember

One finished painting so far this month

My art work tends to come in batches, like waves. There are times where I produce work like crazy (summer especially). Winter is actually a pretty productive time too--here in Minnesota, you hunker down and work on something during the long cold months when you really don't want to go outside unless you have to. But I also have seasons where I don't really make that much. And my down time of the year, for some reason, is November. I don't know what it is about this month, but my artistic output tends to be fairly low year in and year out. Maybe because it's an in-between time, not really fall but not yet winter. I think it's my body's way of telling me to take a break before the cold really hits and get some rest before the holidays roll around.
It used to bother me that I couldn't push through it and just get on with beavering away at art making. I felt guilty, as if I was failing at being an artist. I've come to realize that this natural lull is beneficial. As an American, I tend to look down on rest and relaxation as laziness or wasting time. But we humans aren't designed to constantly be on the go. God even told us to quit working and take a break every week: "Six days shall you work, but on the seventh you shall rest." Thank you, God, for reminding us silly creatures that we shouldn't run ourselves to exhaustion. So now I try to embrace my natural tendency to slow down in November. I use it to reflect on what I've been doing so far in the year and what project I want to focus on over the winter months. I tend to read more, reconnect and catch up with friends, visit galleries and museums--it's creative input rather than output. I've got to feed the artistic well to draw from it later. 

It's also a reminder that there's more to life than making art. Yes, I love it and it's what I'm passionate about. I always feel happiest when I'm in the middle of a mess that will transform into finished pieces. But I also need to step away from the art supplies and engage with other human beings. It's easy to become a hermit, making art can be such a solitary endeavor. At the end of the day though, I need people in my life to give me perspective. I am not ultimately defined by my art, it's separate from who I am as a person. I need to cultivate other interests as well, for my benefit and others. I don't want to be that person who can only talk about art, and is at a loss for words when any other topic comes up. I need to be a well rounded nerd (which I am--ask me about Batman or Lord of the Rings or Settlers of Catan, etc, etc). 

Fa la la la BLAH!

Make it stop, dear God, please make it stop!

I'm no Scrooge, but there should be a law against Christmas music being played before Thanksgiving. I work in retail and it's audio abuse during the holidays. I'm there 40 hours a week, and we're supposed to listen to Christmas music the majority of the time between Black Friday and December 24. Even if you really, really like a certain genre of music, I don't think you'd want to listen to it 40 hours a week for over a month straight. And the customers don't like it anymore than the employees do. Seriously, what makes stores think that people want to linger in a business with "DECK THE HALLS WITH BOUGHS OF HOLLY!! FA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAA!!!" blasting overhead? Nobody likes it, and yet stores keep playing it every year. It's not nostalgic, it's annoying. That does not encourage anyone to shop. That encourages me to get a headache. That's why online shopping is awesome. Seriously, if stores want me (and people like me) to give them business: no loud stupid Christmas songs; silence would be much preferable over having to hear yet another lousy cover of Jingle Bells. Otherwise, Amazon is getting my money. It's quiet, fast and I can shop in my pajamas without leaving home.

And it is NOT "the most happiest time of the year" for those of us who work in retail wonderland. I don't know what it is, but people feel like it's their right to treat the person behind the counter like dirt. Like I want to be here anymore than you do, angry psychopath grandma who thinks a rock painting kit is a great gift for a teenager (just buy them a giftcard). I don't want to be at work until 10:30pm on a Friday night, collecting empty coffee cups from the bookshelves (which is not a garbage can, in case you didn't know) and cleaning poop off the bathroom walls (and yes, that is something that has happened at my store...more than once).
I'm really hoping that at this time next year I'll be in grad school and won't have to deal with this anymore.

The only thing that I'm looking forward to about this holiday season is that I get to wear this to work:

That's what will make all the crap I go through worthwhile: I get to don a hat with elf ears and it will be awesome. You know you're jealous

Dealing with entropy

I'm feeling cranky today and want to kvetch: I have to wear leg braces, and I hate them with a fiery passion. Sure, they help me walk and not kill myself by tripping over my own feet. And they make it possible for me to stay on my feet for long hours at work. But as much as the leg braces help me, they've caused me a lot of grief as well.

The technical term is Ankle-Foot Orthosis (AFO); they provide a support system for weakened legs, preventing foot drop and hips from getting out of whack from limping. They also are hot and sticky in the summer and get freezing cold in the winter. The skin on the bottoms of my feet reacted horribly when I first started wearing them at 17 and didn't clear up until just last year. Throughout college I had to deal with itchy, cracking, bleeding feet pretty much on a daily basis. It's hard to explain what it feels like to peel off blood stained socks at the end of the day. The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong--I went through allergy testing with no reactions. I tried prescription after prescription and got worse. I endured the agony of a skin biopsy on the bottom of my foot (the skin was so compromised it just kept ripping when the dermatologist tried to sew it shut). My brother Andrew's doctor was the one to suggest something that finally worked.

Another fun fact about wearing AFOs: pretty shoes are out of the question. Heels? Flats? Sandals? Nope, no and don't even think about it. I pretty much live in Saucony sneakers, because they're the only shoe I've found that fits, is comfortable and lasts a long time. Thankfully, they come in crazy bright colors, which makes it a little more fun.

And who wants to wear a cute little dress or shorts with muscular dystrophy legs? What do I have to show off? I feel awkward and uncomfortable. I've seen the pity in people's eyes, and I don't want to be treated differently because they feel sorry for me. There are days I'm happy that I can hide my disability.

And the reason I have to wear AFOs in the first place: a still undiagnosed disease. It's some sort of muscular dystrophy, but they don't know what kind. And believe me, I've been tested up the wazoo for various diseases. I've put my time in as a pin cushion for the medical establishment. I don't care what I have, I just want to know what it is! I already live with the symptoms every day, I want to have a diagnosis, a name to give the pain.

And I do live with chronic pain: a constant, unwelcome, low grade (for the most part) ache. It's there when I wake up in the morning, when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm hungry...always. Sometimes it's more like background noise and doesn't bother me that much. Occasionally, it spikes, and I bite my lip, clench my hands into fists, gasp out a few choice swear words, and force myself to get on with the task at hand.

As someone who wasn't born sick, it can almost be harder to lose capabilities than to never have had them in the first place. I can't run or even walk very fast, stand on tiptoe, fill out skinny jeans (they look baggy on me), wiggle my toes, lift heavy things, walk up too many stairs, or write much without my hands hurting. I'm super sensitive to getting cold (legwarmers are my friends). I have to ration my energy--I need to give myself time to build up strength to do something, and if I'm too tired, I've learned to not push it. Most of my energy goes to my job, so art making and a social life suffer for it at times.

So, yes, it sucks. A lot. You will rarely hear me bemoan what I'm going through though. I prefer to focus on the good things in life. But today, was one of those times when I needed to complain.

Stop--Bible time!

Yeah, not so much.

I floss more regularly than I read my Bible. Not something I'm proud to admit, but it's the truth. As a Christian I'm supposed to like the Bible...but it's not the first thing I reach for when I'm in the mood to read. Having grown up in a Christian household, I know the Bible pretty darn well. I have actually read the whole thing multiple times, so I do know what it says. But the way some people talk, you'd think rainbows and magic Jesus glitter come shooting out every time you flip it open. Guess what, the Bible is not always easy reading. Sometimes it actually feels a little pointless and doesn't seem to help me that much. There are passages in there that are hard to accept and require pondering over. It's not something you can passively read, you have to actively engage your mind. To be honest, there are passages that I wonder why they're there. I ask God sometimes why I need to know the measurements of the tabernacle or what fabric it was made out of. I get keeping the prophecies in the Old Testament that point to Christ, but for the majority of us who aren't theologians, some of it seems a bit dry (the book of Numbers, anyone?). And I know I am not the only person who feels this way--I'm just being honest about it. Some Christians seem to think that if you admit doubt or ask any questions, you're not really saved. Well, guess what, I love Jesus, but I don't always like reading his book, okay?! I do question why He can't just speak audibly instead of me trying to muddle my way through a huge book that is thousands of years old, written by various authors in numerous cultures. Yes, the Bible offers truth and salvation...but does it have to be so boring/confusing at times?

But I'm learning that God doesn't do anything by accident, He always has a purpose and a point. Just because it's confusing to me, doesn't mean it's meaningless. Part of being a Christian is bumbling along and having faith that God will take your hand and lead you where you need to go. Following Jesus is not like driving on a wide open highway in a fast car, following huge signs posted along the way; it's more like you're hiking in the woods in the middle of the night with a crappy flashlight on a poorly marked trail, and the moon occasionally comes out from behind the clouds and illuminates your way for a while. The map in your hands doesn't make a lot of sense in the dark, but you're trusting that the one who made it knew what he was doing. That's what it feels like to me at least.

Hopefully, you can tell that I'm not interested in being phony and pretending that being a Christian is all hunky-dory, JESUS IS THE BEST EVAR!!!! *huge fake smile as I clutch my oversize Bible* So, I try to read my Bible somewhat regularly and be real. I ask deep questions, admit I'm not perfect, and seek a genuine faith.