Altogether Beautiful

You are altogether beautiful, my darling;

    there is no flaw in you. 

– Song of Songs 4:7

I believe that God placed a desire deep in women’s hearts to display beauty, to delight others.  I’m not writing tonight to expand on theories of self-image or what society expects of our sex.  Rather, today, I experienced this character quality in a strikingly pure form and I want to share it as simply as I can.

Every year, my husband and his mom participate in a Salvation Army event where volunteers take kids in need shopping for clothing.  This year, I joined the tradition.  We met early in the morning at the Salvation Army building and were paired with a child.  Jeff was able to go with Henry, a boy he’d shopped with the previous two years.  I went forward with Jeff and a blonde third grader with red-framed glasses named Katie boldly took my hand and told the coordinator, “I’m going with this girl.”  That settled it!

Jeff and Henry sat in the first available seats on the volunteer-driven city bus, while Katie marched me to the back row.  “We have to sit in the very back because we both have long legs,” she explained.  I got to know her better during the ride and she shared painful bits of family history that didn’t even make her flinch. 

“Is that guy your boyfriend?” she asked.

“No, he’s my husband.  We just got married,” I said, showing her my ring, “It’s the real deal!”

“Wow!  Did you know a lot of people can’t afford a ring like that?” she said.

“Yeah, it’s a really special ring.  But, do you know what?  I would want Jeff for my husband even without a ring.  He is way, way more valuable than jewelry!”

“Oh, I can tell.  Just from meeting him.  You got a good guy there.”

We arrived at Wal-Mart and our bus load of volunteers and kids descended upon the kids’ clothing section en masse.  Katie needed snow boots and there were none in her size.  She tensed up and started zipping around the aisles, asking other adults if they’d seen any more boots.  I caught her by the shoulder and suggested we put a hold on shoe shopping for now.

“This is meant to be a fun trip.  Let’s make sure we’re enjoying our time together, okay?”

Katie agreed and we switched to the clothing section.  I could tell she was both excited to choose whatever she wanted and nervous that I’d say no to something.  She had an eye for anything with sparkle and would pull frilly things off the shelf, smiling, only to quickly thrust it away when I came over to look.

“It’s not important to get that.  I just need some jeans,” she’d say.

We came up with a strategy:  we wouldn’t worry, but just grab some things that appealed to her, knowing that we’d have to narrow it down to the budgeted amount before checking out.  Katie lit up and impulsively handed me a Hello Kitty black and gold tutu-style skirt. 

“Just for fun,” she explained.  I loved it.

Over at the dressing rooms, we ran into Jeff and Henry.  They were content, having found just what Henry wanted in a short amount of time.  Some tennis shoes, a few hooded sweatshirts, a jacket – they weren’t even going to try anything on.  Meanwhile, I showed them our sparkling bounty of Frozen, Hello Kitty, bedazzlement that required whittling.  Jeff and Henry joined the line with us, to keep us company.  They unwittingly became audience members for Katie’s favorite part of the morning.

While she was in the dressing room, we could see Katie’s little purple-socked feet under the door, turning circles in front of the mirror.  Even though there was a huge line of kids waiting for the rooms, she methodically put different outfit combinations together and showed us one by one.  When the dressing room door opened each time, Katie stood there, beaming.  Jeff, Henry, and I commented on how great she looked and Katie just soaked it up. 

When she went back in for the next outfit, I looked up at Jeff and said, “You realize this is the best part of the experience for her, right?”

He smiled and nodded, and we anxiously awaited the next stylish revelation.

It was eventually time to check out, and Katie needed to make a decision.  She very maturely set three items aside that she was okay with returning, including that Hello Kitty tutu.  Together, we did the math on the remaining items and it totaled exactly one dollar under budget.  God is so amazing.

Song of Songs is a romantic sort of passage, so it may seem strange to apply it to an eight year old girl, but I know God was with us, waiting for Katie to emerge with each outfit on, waiting to tell her,

You are altogether beautiful.

Because she is.






photo credit

Meet Jeff

When I last posted on this blog, I was two weeks into a new relationship.  Today, I’m a little less than two weeks away from becoming that man’s wife.   I’ve written here from the darkest, most desperate places of my life.  As I began to write tonight, I considered writing an introduction to my friends who haven’t heard about Jeff yet.  But now, I think I’ll choose a more unconventional audience.  This is a letter for the Brooke of past posts, the woman who desperately wanted peace from panic attacks, hope for the future, and answers from God.  When my health was struggling, I never expected the pain to last so very long.  Now, I look around and I couldn’t have dreamed of life this rich.

Dear Brooke,

I want to tell you about your future husband.  He’s real.  He’s very different than you’ve imagined, and he’s exactly what you need.  His name is Jeff, but I like to call him Jeffrey B.  The B. is for Brandon; your name if you’d have been a boy.  God remembered that you wanted a tall, handsome one, and someone who loves the outdoors.  God also knew your heart needed peace, so he brought you Jeff.  Being with Jeff is like sitting by the quiet streams of Psalm 23.  He doesn’t get agitated easily (except when he encounters stupid drivers) and his first instinct in difficulty is to pray.  Jeff loves sports and serving others, so he started a basketball and soccer camp for kids.  He hasn’t traveled overseas much, like you thought your future mate would, but he’s adventurous and excited to experience more of that with you. 

When Jeff proposed, it was on a hike.  You never told Jeff that was your dream, but God knew.  The ring he gave you symbolizes Ecclesiastes 4:12

Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

It has your birthstone, his birthstone, and a center diamond symbolizing God at the center of our lives.  That is the best part of Jeff – he loves Jesus with all his heart, soul, and strength.  From that love for Jesus, Jeff loves you.  This is a man who will lay down his life for you and stick with you like that cord of three strands.

When he held out the ring, you hesitated, even though you’d already said yes.  Putting that gorgeous ring on somehow meant that you had worked hard enough to deserve Jeff, to be worthy of being someone’s wife.  Brooke, I want you to know that God will take you through great healing before you ever meet Jeff.  And, when God puts you two together, you will still be really imperfect.  You’ll even still have a panic attack from time to time, even though you wish those were gone forever. 

Jeff chooses you anyway.  After all these years of working to deserve love, it turns out that God never had that brand of love in store for you.  God has a grace-filled, unconditional, day by day, love for you.  It’s the love He has for you now, while you’re still in that awful, dark season.  And, it’s the love He’ll pour out through Jeff when he comes into your life.

It’s pretty amazing.

No Map, 5 Year Blogiversary

Five years ago today, I started this blog.  I believed God was asking me to write and share what He'd placed on my heart.  On May 16, 2009, I was a couple of months away from moving to China for the second time.  My life was not following a predictable path, but I was convinced of God's leading.  Psalm 84 has been my inspiration as I write - you can see the seasons of life as I travel with God from China, to Iowa, back to Seattle, and most recently to Uganda.  Even in my own country, I will always be a sojourner,  a traveler.  I'm on this earth for a short time and I pray I will be faithful to His leading, no matter what.  

In honor of this 5 year anniversary of starting this blog, I am reposting my first poem. In whatever physical, emotional, or mental place you find yourself today, I hope you realize your Savior's nearness and draw close to His heart.  You are loved.  Enjoy the adventure.




No Map



I decided to follow Him
So I asked for a map
A large, colorful map
With bold labels
Beginnings and ends all contained
Within a
Piece of paper.

I decided to follow Him
So He handed me a compass
A small, sensitive compass
With a thin arrow
Leading surely, but along a route
I can't
Anticipate.

As I walk, particular locations
Become less significant
As I watch the compass
And respond
I understand that the arrow
Is attracted to His heart.

Take me there, my Love
Over paths familiar and unknown
Deep woods, sweeping views
Different companions on
Different legs of the journey
Keep me going forward, my Love
Move me towards Your heart.

Decimals in Christ

This week, my students are learning about decimals.  We’ve been playing around with the idea of a number’s value, depending its position.  If a five is in the tenths place, it’s worth five tenths (or one half, for you Math wizards).  Move it to the tens place, and now that little five is worth fifty. 

My fourth graders and I have a little action we do when an amazingly mind-blowing bit of learning sinks in.  We put our hands on our heads and make an explosion noise, blowing our hands off in the blast.  This morning, there were many minds blown when I showed how you can add as many zeroes as you want to the right of a decimal and its value will remain the same. 

If you have accepted Jesus Christ as your Savior, your position is in Christ.  You cannot be moved from the security of His death’s work on your behalf.  You are a co-heir with Christ, a daughter or son of Father God, clean, free, forgiven, alive.  Anyone can try to demean your value.  They can add metaphorical zeroes until the end of time and it will have no effect on who you are in Christ.

Tonight, a lot of old lies have run rampant in my head.  It’s midnight and instead of going to sleep feeling hopeless, I’m listening to worship music and remembering where I stand.  I’m in Christ.  Blissfully and peacefully immovable.  Amen to that.

Ridiculously, Lavishly, Overwhelmingly Spoiled

                When I tell my American friends about life in a Ugandan village, I like feeling like a rugged, brave survivor-girl.  “No running water?  No flushing toilets?  No SHOWER?”  People are often incredulous.  “It’s not so bad,” I reply, trying to sound cool, while my chest puffs with pride.  Well, today I’m coming clean.  I haven’t been out in the wilderness suffering.  In fact, I feel like God spoils the heck out of me while I’m working out there.   I wasn’t kidding about the water.  Sometimes there’s no water at all, until we can send someone to another village.  It’s dusty.  It’s hot.  There are bugs.  And, I absolutely live like royalty.  Our God is not lacking.  He loves to pile His love on us, over us, through us.  Sometimes, His love is more tangible than other times.  My journey from the village back to Entebbe Airport is loaded with this brand of love.  It was ridiculously good.  Here’s the story.

Leg 1:  Kyakitanga village to the main road

                James, Kenny, Julie, Chris, Jill, Michael and I piled into the van, which had been baking in the sun all morning.  When James tells us it’s time to go, we’ve learned not to get inside the four-wheeled oven until there’s proof the engine will actually start.  With the old “roll down the hill and pop the clutch” trick, we were soon on our way.  The van bumped along the rutted road, with tree debris occasionally falling in through the sunroof onto my lap.  There was a near collision with a young, confused cow. 

                We made it to the main road, which requires the van to crest a little hill to get on the pavement.  The van decided it wanted to rest instead, so we sat patiently with trickles of sweat traversing routes under clingy, sweaty t-shirts.  Seeing that the van was out of fuel, James crossed the dirt road to buy a Mirimba bottle full of gas.  Still, the van wouldn’t start.  We’d need a Pepsi bottle of gas too, it seemed.  The two soda bottles of fuel did the trick, getting us up and over the main road, where we promptly parked and unfolded ourselves from the hot seats.

Leg 2:  Main road to Kampala  -no, Mityana

                From the main road, James, Michael, and I caught a taxi van and the others shopped for groceries before heading back to the village.  I was nervous about my first trip taking public transportation.  I’m used to an air-conditioned van with people I know.  When the taxi conductor climbed on the van’s roof and strapped my suitcase to the top, I thought, ‘Well, I’m committed to this adventure!’  James finagled a window seat for me, which was the beginning of God’s lavishness on this trip.

                As we sped along the road, stopping frequently to add passengers, I began to relax and enjoy my surroundings.  Uganda’s beautiful, lush, green hills whizzed by outside and the wind in my face was refreshing.  At one point, I counted 18 people in the van.  We got to the next major town and stopped at a gas station.  I noticed the conductor get on the roof and pass my suitcase and Michael’s belongings to a taxi parked parallel with us.  “James?,” I asked, “Shouldn’t we be with that stuff?”

                For reasons no one seems to understand, James included, our taxi was no longer taking the 3 hour trip to Kampala.  There was some bickering, then we moved and found seats on board the next taxi.  Again, I was spoiled with a window seat.

Leg 3:  Mityana to Kampala

                One woman who got on the taxi was wearing a knit hat and her baby girl was bundled in a down jacket.  In my t-shirt and long skirt, I was sweating enough for all three of us.  Another mother boarded and I noticed her nice, tailored dress was unzipped in the back.  You could see her bra band.  She was two rows up from me, but I wanted somehow to discreetly help her zip up before she was embarrassed.  Well, I think the zippage was intentional because as the conductor squeezed onto the seat next to her and pulled the door closed, she began feeding her baby.  I guess you can look professional and still care for your baby on the go.  I stand corrected.

Leg 4:  Kampala to Entebbe

                Once in Kampala, James and I said goodbye to Michael.  We waited for Pastor David to pick us up and take us to the airport.  Nicely dressed men and women passed, openly staring at me (for my white skin or my disheveled appearance, I’m not sure).  I looked at James and laughed at the difference between us.  After that long taxi ride, his button-down shirt somehow still managed to look freshly pressed and he wasn’t sweating a bit.   James wondered if people would stare at him in America because of his dark skin.  I said probably not.  After some time, we spotted the Yesu Akwagala (Jesus Saves) van in the traffic jam.  It was nice to see Pastor David and ride in the clean van. 

We stopped for fuel and I bought dinner for us.  Earlier that day, in the taxi, I was daydreaming about what I’d eat first when I got home.  Meat is more of a luxury item in the village, so I imagined eating a piece of chicken.  It turns out, the only gluten-free item on the menu was chicken and chips.  Back in the van, I opened up the take out container lid and found one big, hot piece of chicken.  As I bit into a hunk of it, I remembered my daydream from earlier.  Ha!  I didn’t even have to leave Uganda for my wish to come true!  God had it all ready, with samosas and Mountain Dew for James too.

                After eating, I saw my shiny face in the rear view mirror.  I took some toilet paper, got it damp with my water bottle, and wiped my face.  The paper was brown with dust.  That’s how my clothes, hair, and body felt:  dusty, stinky, sweaty, and tired.  Which leads us to daydream #2:  water.  I thought of the nice restrooms in the Amsterdam airport.  ‘At least I can change my clothes there,’ I thought.  I really, really wanted a shower though.  It would be funky to travel all the way home to Seattle this dirty.  However, it would probably be off-putting to others if I tried to wash my hair in the Amsterdam sink.  ‘What about the toilet?’ I mused, ‘I could give myself a swirlie.’  No, something about that wasn’t right either.  I’d have to go dirty.

                

              James and David dropped me off at the airport and said goodbye.  I was quite early for my 11:30pm flight, so I stayed outside and walked back and forth in the deliciously balmy breeze for about 30 minutes.  The armed guards and taxi drivers were puzzled for the first 10-15 minutes and kept asking me what I needed.  “I need to be outside and I need to move my legs!,” I smiled and repeated any time a new one approached.  Finally, the guards informed each other.  I overheard one say, “The muzungu (white person) wants air and movement.  Let her be.”

             Eventually, I reluctantly went inside and checked in.  I bought some dried mango in the gift shop and paced back and forth between the four gates.  In the bathroom, God had the ultimate spoiling waiting.  I stopped in my tracks and said out loud, “You have got to be kidding me.  No way.”  Showers.

                I asked an attendant to make sure.  “Anyone can use one?  For free?”  She laughed, “Yes!”  If I knew how to do a cartwheel, I would have turned a few on that freshly mopped tiled floor.  I went into a stall and broke out into a crazy happy dance.  I had three hours left before departure and I was going to get CLEAN!  I was going to take my sweet time too.  It was a dribbly trickle of cold water and it was the highest and best God-gift I could imagine in that moment.  The window seat on the taxi, the chicken dinner, and now this?  All the luxury I could dream of and more, without even leaving Uganda!  Brown suds testified to the grime I’d felt.  I kept grinning, dancing, and squeaking out little exclamations to God, “Are You flipping kidding me?!”

                Now in fresh clothes with clean, lavender-scented hair and skin, I brushed my teeth and headed for the waiting room as a new woman.  I even stopped at the Duty Free to spritz on some favorite perfume from a tester bottle.  Oh yeah.  Totally above and way beyond anything I could’ve asked or imagined.

                In the Message, Hosea 14:4 reads, “I will love them lavishly.”  I know this to be true.  Sometimes in the lack of things, you find the most beautiful expressions of having your needs met.  God loves to love you.  He really, truly does.  Your Heavenly Father rejoices in not just meeting your need, but in exceeding your every expectation.  Sometimes, that happens very tangibly, while other times, it’s that quiet trust in your spirit, believing He’s always present and will never, never forsake you.  There is sweet communion waiting as we celebrate and praise God for all the many, many, many ways He loves us.  The next time I tell you a Uganda story, remember – I haven’t been roughing it.  I’ve been living it up.

                

That Happened

                I am a woman who loves to contain things.  Baskets, boxes, bins, I love them all.  Once, at Safeco Field, the security guard checking my purse noticed how many sub-purses I had.  One for my lip gloss and lip balm, another for pens and a paper pad, a third for coins.  He asked, “Do you have a purse for your purses?”  “No, but I have a nice bin for them at home,” I said.  This need to categorize and contain spills over into how I process daily events.  When something happens, it’s boxed as “good” or “bad”.  I dropped and broke a plate = bad.  A friend sent me a funny card in the mail = good.  Traffic = obviously bad.  Jelly beans = good.  Jelly beans in large quantities = bad.  Everything has a concrete place. 

                At a certain point, this system became crazy-making.  When the day’s tally was too heavy in the bad column, I felt awful and wondered why I was so mired in badness.  When things were good, I was expecting more bad to come at any minute.  I was going through counseling for some tough stuff and categorizing past pain through the good/bad lens was excruciating.  I’ve never liked the phrase “It is what it is” because it feels so passive, but I desperately needed room for gray between my black and white boxes. 

                Out of this came the phrase, “That happened.”  My roommate and I started using it liberally.  From burning dinner to getting unexpected money to forgiving someone – it happened.  Once, we were walking and a total downpour started.  We turned our faces upward, smiled, and my roommate said, “Well, this is happening!”  There was no more need to understand whether an event was good or bad – usually things are a big, jumbly mix of both those labels, plus a lot more.   When I classified everything before, there was an underlying push to take action, to turn the bad into good.  It’s scary to take action on painful things and usually our human action is not the answer anyway, so they often stay buried.  Saying, “that happened,” is akin to opening a closet full of boxes, bicycles, old toys, pictures, and shining a light in the back corner.  You see what is there, and you’re not hiding it anymore.  It’s there.  It exists.   It matters.  Maybe you’ll do something about it today, maybe tomorrow, maybe never.  The point is, it’s in the light now.

                This past February, I traveled to Uganda for the third time.  Before this trip, I researched story-telling and how it helps people heal and reconcile from their past.  I have a heart for reconciliation and I love, love, love to hear women tell their life stories.  I was so excited to try this idea, along with checking in on teachers at the school where I’d worked in the past.

                I spent two weeks in Kyakitanga, a small village where God led my friend Julie to begin a school several years ago.  During my past two trips, I focused solely on training teachers.  This time, I worked with teachers in the afternoon and spent the mornings listening to village women’s life stories.  With the help of two young ladies as translators and my friend Jill, we visited homes and listened.

                It was a powerful experience to record stories.  The women have had difficult lives.  I prayed that they’d feel safe sharing, and was interested in happy memories as well as sad.  As Jill, Brenda, Mabel, and I asked and listened, ladies opened up.  Tears flowed freely as that light reached the back of the closet where grief had hidden for so long.  At one home, we sat on the floor, just quietly letting the moment exist.  The mother and grandmother cried, and Jill put her arms around them.  It is a rare and beautiful privilege to be let into the rawness of another woman’s sorrow.  After some time of silence, I asked if I could pray for them.  I asked God’s healing and blessing and favor over their lives.  Then, we began singing.  The song was in Luganda, but it was simple enough for Jill and I to join in.  “Weebale Yesu, weebale Yesu, weebale Yesu…”  which means, “Thank You Jesus, Thank You Jesus, Thank You Jesus….”  The two naked bottomed babies crawled amidst us, and got up on their knees to clap with the music.  They squealed with delight, ignorant of the traumas their mother and aunt had just recounted.

                I don’t have answers for the stories I heard and wrote down.  Suffering is difficult to understand sometimes.  I didn’t go to those homes to put these ladies’ life events into boxes and bins.  I went to bear witness.  To say, with my presence and pen, “That happened.”  The pain doesn’t have to be forgotten, or hidden, or manipulated.  Your life happened.  It matters.  You matter. 

While I can contain most everything in my life, one thing I can never contain is the love of God.  It’s bigger and better than any of us could dream up.  It’s one of the few things I don’t want to contain.  I hope and pray that God’s love explodes into every crevice of life.  There will be no limits to the wholeness God brings.  Amen!

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. For those who lived in a land of deep shadows— light! sunbursts of light! You repopulated the nation, you expanded its joy. Oh, they’re so glad in your presence! Festival joy! The joy of a great celebration, sharing rich gifts and warm greetings. The abuse of oppressors and cruelty of tyrants— all their whips and cudgels and curses— Is gone, done away with, a deliverance as surprising and sudden as Gideon’s old victory over Midian. The boots of all those invading troops, along with their shirts soaked with innocent blood, Will be piled in a heap and burned, a fire that will burn for days! For a child has been born—for us! the gift of a son—for us! He’ll take over the running of the world. His names will be: Amazing Counselor, Strong God, Eternal Father, Prince of Wholeness. His ruling authority will grow, and there’ll be no limits to the wholeness he brings. He’ll rule from the historic David throne over that promised kingdom.  – from Isaiah 9 (MSG)

Filling Every Space

Earth holds a beauty that isn't found in heaven,
Thirst.
In heaven, all are satisfied 
And continually fed on My glory and praise.
Earth is hungry.
Earth is thirsty.

That want is beautiful to Me
Because your want is My home.

Your desire is shaped in My shape,
My size, My brand, My I AM.
Earth's messy cry is the negative
To my positive.

You are not designed to keep 
That gaping hole of shame.
Your open wound shouts an invitation to Me.
I hear your pain like a new mother awakens to her baby's cry.
Not only do I want to fill your longing,
I AM the only One who can.

When the filth of your sin,
The hopelessness of humanity,
And the pain of how you've been wronged 
Threatens to consume you,
Invite me to consume it instead.

Your weakness and My strength
Were meant to be together.
A perfect match.
Your tears and My comfort
Were never meant to be apart.

Soon you will feel My Holy Spirit stretching
To the full space of that ugly void.
You thought you were hungry for My blessings.
You are hungry for heaven.
That's what I AM to you 
While you're here.

Name your hunger.
Marriage.
Change.
Adventure.
Reconciliation.
Forgiveness.
Respect.
Meaningful work.
Finances.
Hope.
Now picture Me filling that space,
That ache,
That void.

Deserts beg rain,
Your pain begs My Spirit.
Say yes,
And I will fill everything.