Too Loud to Listen

Last week I pitched a fit at God. A temper tantrum so loud, it would put my young daughters to shame.

It wasn’t pretty.

If I’m really being honest, the fit started the day before we moved from my beloved homestate of Colorado to a new dwelling place in Kansas. It wasn’t over the move per se. More like certain details related to it. Namely, the empty home sitting back on Quiet Circle.

Given that God worked out so many other aspects of our move, I figured this one would be taken care of no problem. We were anxious about leaving the house behind and all the many things that could go wrong with it. Because I was so sure we’d have a renter lined up, the day before the move came, and I was frantically calling someone to come mow and water for us the following week.

To make matters worse, the cleaning company we hired missed a bunch of places in our home, didn’t actually clean the carpets, and then broke some things too. They refuse to give us a penny in refunds so now we are footing the bill to pay for a second carpet clean. I should say an actual carpet clean. Lousy, lying crooks.

Do I sound whiny? Now you know how the fit started.

So, the house is empty still. And I’m exhausted. I’m tired of being on the phone. I’m tired of getting my hopes up when we have a showing. Why isn’t He doing anything to fix it?

I don’t know.

I don’t know why He allowed our cleaners to take us to the cleaners. I don’t know why I lost two babies last year. I don’t know why He does what He does or why He doesn’t prevent what I want Him to.

I told a couple of friends last week that God and I weren’t on speaking terms right now. I was screaming for answers. He wasn’t giving me any.

As with any good temper tantrum, one must calm down eventually. (Yelling, kicking, and pounding your fists day after day is exhausting after all.) And so I did. At church on Sunday. From music to prayers to Eucharist, God took me on a journey that reminded me of His peace.

It is peace in the midst of trouble. (Didn’t He say there would be some of that as a follower?) Peace that is mine because He’s got a view beyond what I can fathom. It is rest in His grace and His plan. It is surrender.

Surrender hurts. Surrender means giving up control. It means trusting in something I can’t see. This is kindergarten stuff, guys. Actually, I remember teaching that concept to a group of 3-5 year olds one summer. But I forget when it comes to big things like leaving a home behind. I never had to do this kind of thing before.

In the midst of surrender, guess what happened. God and I are speaking again. It’s probably because I stopped screaming long enough to hear His voice again. It is strong but gentle. Loving when I am nothing but loud.

Beautiful Words

"We are a story, slowly unfolding...beautiful words"

One of the advantages of my job is that I get to write off-site two days a week. It's a wonderful gift. Occasionally I go to Panera Bread, but my favorite moments of creating are spent at my kitchen table. In that time, what is my greatest inspiration as I type away? Music. (And I play it rather loudly when I'm alone.)

This week, a song I heard on Tuesday hasn't left me. I've been humming it as I compose day after day on the blank page. And it's appropriate because it is about words.

Here are the lyrics to the first verse and chorus:

Slow down
This is such a blur
Tell me what's the hurry now
Have we been running round in circles
Missing all that we could be
You say it's not too late

[Chorus:]
We are words
On pages that we've left unturned
An ending no one's ever heard
We are a story slowly unfolding
Beautiful words

- "Beautiful Words" by The Afters

Slow down. Missing all that we could be. It's not too late. We are a story. I don't know about you, but I usually want now. No slow unfolding. But that is not how our Creator works. His story unfolded over centuries. Our stories will have a century, at best. But how amazing to realize that our story unfolds within His.

Life naturally brings numerous examples of this: marriage, children growing at a rate that seems like an inch a day, the tomato plants a co-worker gave me yesterday, composing a lesson and corresponding audio script about David and Goliath.

So, as I continue on my writing journey this morning and prepare to step into this long weekend, I will rest in the unturned pages God has numbered for me and take joy in the single words coming forth in the next few days. I will probably rip some paper to create some art journaling pages and dance barefoot in the living room with my girls. I'll also sit next to my beloved as we venture into the mountains. Slowing down....

Beautiful words.

The Answer Man (A Movie Review)

(I have long thought about writing reviews of my favorite books, movies, and music on my blog. Here’s a first attempt. Enjoy!)

First there was Dr. Gregory House.

Then there was Ron Swanson (or as my husband calls him, the human version of the beloved cartoon character “Garfield”).

But there is one curmudgeon you might not know about: Arlen Faber.

Arlen Faber is famous, even though he doesn’t want to be. Twenty years before, he wrote a book called Me and God. As with most bestsellers, this one spawned a whole host of other books such as The Me and God Diet and Me and God for Teens. (Yeah. You know the type.) And it also produced a group of rabid fans who would love to do nothing more than meet the man behind the work.

Arlen is behind something alright, but it’s not his work. He’s hiding behind the door of his home. Inside those walls, he spends his days tossing unopened fan mail into a pile, reading books about spirituality, and yelling out words that would make most of his faithful readers blush.

What really makes Arlen holler is the day his back goes out. His agent, the only person left on his speed dial, decides that he needs to figure out a thing or two on his own. So, she leaves him on the floor of his home.

His only choice is to crawl to a chiropractor. And he does. Through the streets of downtown Philadephia.

Enter Elizabeth. What’s a curmudgeon to do when a beautiful woman fixes his back and leaves him speechless? Suddenly books about spirituality are traded for books about love.

On top of that, someone discovers where Arlen lives and agrees to trade silence about his address for answers to his questions about life. After all, Arlen has direct access to God…right?

I stumbled on The Answer Man(currently on Netflix instant play) by accident, and it made my day yesterday. Jeff Daniels is hilarious as a disgruntled recluse. Yet, his heart is so big when you watch him interact with Elizabeth’s son. I think my favorite movies are the ones where connection and community show up in surprising places. This movie surely fits that description.

In addition, it unmasks the notion of perfect people who have all the answers. In the end, we are all broken and asking for answers. Only God can weave our paths together and turn our attempts at navigating life into something bigger and more beautiful than we can imagine.

Watch it for yourself. Here’s a little peek:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNmq7tPxkPg

Simple Mess

Some days, I'm obsessed with simplicity. I can’t get enough. I clean and go into a “keep, sell, toss” frenzy. Probably ironic, since the obsession with even seemingly innocent things leads to anything but simplicity in one’s life.

I think I’m in the same place with my faith. Once upon a time, I kept it all locked up in a neatly-fashioned library of my mind. Then, grace got involved and I found myself pulling every one of those nicely organized books to the floor.

There it sits even now. In a heap of “mess” on the floor.

Occasionally, I pick up a book and file it carefully where I think it can go. God’s goodness. Unconditional love. Shame. And, of course, grace. That one goes next to suffering. They can’t help but go hand-in-hand, I’ve discovered.

The rest remain. For now. Currently holding on to hope.

A New Path

I am a reader. I am a writer. And I am a listener. The listening part is new to me, though I believe the desire was placed in me long before it was awakened. What am I listening to? To beauty, to truth, and to voices of redemption. They are all around us because this world was created by our Father. He spoke beauty and truth into existence. And though their original identity was lost not long after their inception, His kingdom forces pockets of them to shine through in unusual and often little-known places.

We are not the ones who choose where glimpses of His nature poke their way into the darkness. We are subject to the biding of His Spirit and must obey when those messages rise up in our hearts and lives.

And that is why I am writing here today. I want to let you know about the new path of With Pen in Hand.

For a season, I have let this blog sit in quietness and solitude, though not on purpose. It seems to fit where my life has been the last 10 months—in silence. During this time of solitude, I have been listening. I have been soaking in what God has for me as His daughter, who was made in His image. He has given me a song that must be sung and words that must be written.

Some people fill their online journals with anecdotes about their growing children or pictures of exciting adventures they’ve just completed. My purpose for this blog is to give you snapshots of beauty, truth, and redemption that I have discovered on my own journey. They are mostly going to be in the form of highlighting what I’ve been hearing and seeing. The messages will mirror how God is working in my soul and how He is shaping me as I listen to Him.

Art will be a major part of these messages because one of the primary ways God communicates with me is through creativity: in film, in music, in visual pieces, and in the written word (just to name a few). So I’m inviting you, reader and friend, to join me as I share them with you.

Still

A heart on my sleeve, tears on my face.
Not wanting to waste my pain.
Endless days of trying, hoping, waiting,
And yet I'm here. Still here.

Why do I wait so long to let go?
Life is moving but it's slow.
Gone in circles, carousels, coasters rolling,
And I'm still at the start.

Broken and tested, bruised and tired.
They say pain brings strength.
Where is mine? Bitterness, battles
Seeing my sin still.

I open my mouth, burdens are moved.
Why didn't I speak sooner?
Little loads feel lifted, lighter.
Still a small cloud of shame.

Sorrowful soul, seeking to be set free
I want for many things.
Savior, take and turn them, touch me
I need to be still.

Lifelong To-Do List

My brother and sister-in-law are preparing to move to California. As part of the packing process, they are getting rid of a lot of items. Last weekend I acquired Kellie's collection of Real Simple magazines. Yay! They always have a section called "Your Words" where readers write in to answer a question posed in a previous issue.

The one I was reading asked for 3 things from the readers' lifelong to-do list. It got me thinking, and it's tough to narrow it down to 3 but here's mine:

1) Pen a book (non-fiction or fiction)
2) Learn to play the violin
3) Attend a film festival (perhaps Telluride or Sundance)

You'll have to check back with me in about 40 years to see if I've accomplished them. Hopefully it won't take me that long...