Maybe, Just Maybe, There is More

It is most difficult to bring Christians to the cross of Christ. We are familiar with the sinner’s prayer and from long years past have come to great comfort with solid understanding and knowledge; paradigms are established and lenses are polished to a sheen.

We’ve drawn near to God in comfortable distance and see no need to tamper with this. Our boundaries are secure, “Yes, this near, but no closer please.” We think that the amount of the Holy Spirit that we have right now is good enough, “No more Lord. I’m good.”

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What are We Missing Out On?

There is no way through to healing and wholeness without honestly acknowledging hurt.

Hurt comes before healing.

Seems obvious but do we really get this, and are we willing to engage this unto healing.

Engaging hurt leads to healing.

Allowing hurt to penetrate gives way to options that only open up after the pain.

Recognizing how deeply we have been hurt over something is the only way to come through to the other side where the hurt does not own us any longer.

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What Would It Be? Choose That One Thing To Be About

It is just so easy to be doing busy work. Putting in hours and effort on that which is peripheral to the actual work; postponing the actual work with what I call edge work.

I’m sad to say that I’ve been one of the worst at this. Years back a new connection said to me, what is it that you are about?

He asked this question after looking at the many things I was doing at the time. It was a great question and it often takes a fresh pair of eyes to see what we are chronically blind to ourselves.

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Gardening Refreshes Us

The weather has been nice these last few days on the west coast of Canada and I took advantage of this nice weather to do a bit of gardening. The flower beds needed some cleaning up and it is my habit to add some good layers of mushroom manure as a top-dressing. This keeps the weeds down, the moisture in, and feeds the perennial plants the nutrients they need. In addition to this the top-dressing makes the beds look spick and span, pleasing to the eye.

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No Lost Years

There are no lost years within the Kingdom of God.

Too often we are fretting and ashamed because of what has not happened and the way life has turned out contrary to what we imagined.

There are many despondent in circumstances that are crushing.

Many are making do with the best they have.

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Body Wisdom

I’m writing this in the quiet of the night. One would think that the silence of an island would enable one to sleep longer but this has not been my experience. Wide awake after only four or five hours of sleep is becoming my normal.

At first I fight it, “Just go back to sleep” I tell myself. But when this doesn’t work I simply get up and go about my time as though it were really morning. I’ve learned to run with this ‘awakeness’.

I’ve always been able to gauge low-grade depression through my sleeping patterns. When I was young and working as a baker with very early mornings I was much the same way as now, needing only a half-dozen hours of sleep at most.

Some years later as I became less congruent and authentic in how I was living life I found it more and more difficult to get out of bed each morning. When what I wanted and what I was doing was in discrepancy I slept and slept.

Sleep has proven a very useful barometer of how truthful I am in my inner core. When I am engaged in activity that is peripheral to my true purpose I become tired and lethargic in my spirit and I sleep so much more. When I am living out of my purposeful core, in authenticity about my life, I sleep less.

During some of my worst years sleep was a drug. If I could sleep longer my days would be shorter. Less boredom, less frustration, less sorrow; there is less of everything when we sleep our lives away. In contrast, living out of my inner core my body resonates excitement and purpose and I no longer need sleep as a drug.

My body tells me what I need to know about my life and the way I am living it. Our bodies, after all, know what we do not know. The internal state of our hearts and minds shows through in our bodies if we will just take the time to listen and learn to read what our bodies are telling us.

Given Over

I’m at the start of month four of having no home of my own.

Not taken lightly and not entered into quickly, these past few months, and any number of years to come, is simultaneously challenging me and blessing me.

‘Home’ has boiled down to where I unpack my toothbrush and toothpaste and where I have a place to lay my head at night.

Thankfully my family has been stellar. My parents have given me a corner at their place and my extended family has ok’d me staying (i.e.:camping of sorts) at our family house on Mayne.

I’m a bit of a professional bum at the moment.

And so far, in the months since August I’ve not been any one place longer than 1.5 weeks at a time.

This giving my life over to the Lord’s compelling, vision, calling (whatever you want to call it) has come with its cost.

I’ve given over so many of my rights.

I’ve given over the right to have my own kitchen stuff at hand. Because it’s all packed away for the long haul I am always a guest in every kitchen I’m in. Using pans that are not my own, utensils not my own, cookware not my own… any woman will recognize the sacrifice this is.

I’ve given over the right to have my own children sit around my table. When will I ever have them over to my place again? I have no idea. Now I go to them and (bless them) they welcome me and extend their homes to me.

I’ve given over the right to decorate and arrange furniture just as I like. I’ve given over the right to have things just so and to make a space as I would really love to have it. I’ve given over the right to have my own pretty and familiar things at hand.

I’ve given over the right to privacy and that unique north american product of doing life with few watching. My life is now a communal experience with many ‘in on’ the logistics of where I lay my head each night.

I’ve given over the right to earn a decent wage. Living below the poverty line everything I am and make goes to the work of Capturing Courage Int’l. As anyone knows who has risked to begin a business, company, or organization, significant sacrifice is the modus operandi for some years; you would be shocked to know how little I am living on.

I’ve given over the right to financial privacy. I have those who know every single dime I spend and on what and when. In quest for transparency and integrity I am completely and totally financially naked.

I’ve given over the right to giving gifts. For the third Christmas in a row now (and for birthdays too) I’ve not bought one of my children or grandchildren one gift. Nothing. Zip. Zero. I’ve just not had the funds for it.

I’ve given over the right to comfort and ease. Most everything and everywhere I am and go asks of me inconvenience, some of it significant. My most prominent pleasure at the moment is simply keeping a few of my favourite mugs at my various ‘homes’.

I’ve given over the right to friendships. Many (I’ve lost about 20 friends this past year alone) cannot or will not move along with me as I enter into that which is bigger than me, and I’m not sure I will ever truly get over the sorrow of this.

I’ve given over the right to be understood. There are still those actively shunning me, there are those who gossip and assume the worst about me, there are those afraid of endorsing me, and there are those that don’t care enough to actually ask or get to know me or the work of CCI but rather simply pull back into the shadows… and are gone.

I’ve given over the right to my own bathroom. Most everywhere I go others know my bathroom habits. Overseas using a toilet or taking a shower is never a private affair, at my folks we must jostle and wrestle each other for bathroom time – well not quite. 🙂

I’ve given over the right to washing my clothes on my time. Except when I’m on Mayne my clothes must be washed in sync with others schedules and availability everywhere I go. This too is never private – I still feel an intruder in this way.

I’ve given over the right to a closet of clothes. The extent of my clothing could fit into one medium suitcase. I’ve learned to wear the same things over and over, to buy one pair of jeans and wear them till they die (before buying another), and to keep my tops to a system and uniform of sorts; clothing that works for both at home and abroad.

And finally, I’ve given over my right to independence. Everywhere I go, the places I settle into, require that I am okay with depending on others for their hospitality and generosity to me. Whether I am at ‘home’ ( the lower mainland, the gulf islands, in Alberta with my daughter and her family) or whether I am at ‘home’ overseas (with Daniel and his family in Mozambique, with Mamma Bosa or with Edith in Uganda – or any number of the smaller villages and homes which host me in various countries) I am dependant on others. Completely.

My main concern and query at this time is how to manage this for the long haul. What and how might I settle in my heart and mind so that I can sustain this kind of living? I am fairly certain there is an expiration date on such a style of life, but I am equally certain that for me that won’t be for significant time down the road.

I’m therefore working at setting routine into my days that remain the same no matter where I am. Habits of silence and contemplation, quiet time with the Lord, writing time to clear my mind, these things I can do anywhere thankfully.

When I was twenty I wanted nothing more than to sell everything and travel around north america random happenstance style for a years time. Now, nearly thirty years later, I’m getting to do this but on a much bigger scale – around the world happenstance style (well… certainly nimble) and for many years.

Those who pray for me tell me that my time is now and while I’ve been preparing for this for years I am quite aware that significant investment, significant results, require significant sacrifice. Something that is in fact an incredible honour to give.