June 29th – Third Place Books

There is a fountain here. On my way into the bookstore I instinctively reach for it, wet my hand, touch my forehead, breastbone, shoulders right and left.

When did I become this crazy person? Seeing holiness everywhere I go?

I told my crew the other day that I have become an addict. I am addicted to the kingdom—to seeing the God active spots in everyone’s living, to searching out the holiness in spaces (I love holy spaces!), to creating kingdom where little of it dwells, to celebrating kingdom where it lives large and colorful.

This is the air I breathe. I could no sooner walk back into the space between the four walls of a cloistered … {read more…}

This is what Paul got for Father’s Day. Well, this and a brand new minivan. (I know, I know, a mini van. How soccer Mom can you get? But we have to have it or we can’t take Eden’s friends anywhere this summer [a couple of them are latch keying it.] As we were buying it, they pulled up my dream car – an orange Honda element – and sold it to some 19-year-old kid. Oh the injustice!) Paul loves this van. Absolutely loves it. It’s expensive and silver and shiny – sort of like a computer, maybe that’s the appeal. It has leather, a sound system, and air conditioning that works. … {read more…}

Eden drew this picture. “Tell me about this picture Eden.” “It’s what is in my heart Mommy.” There she is on top of the heart marrying Justice, her friend from preschool. Her best friend Rosie is on the left. Inside the hearts are GigGig and Bompa peeking out of the heart windows. Paul and I are there in the bottom left hand corner (that’s me with the flippy hair.) Everything else is “rooms Mommy, for all the love that people can live in.”

I tell you, this child is my priestess.

A few days ago Eden came and sat next to me on the couch. “Mommy,” she said “I did centering prayer in my … {read more…}

Tuesday was Cate’s fourth birthday. The child development specialists say that 4 is like a window on what your kids might be like when they are 14. Apparently there are similar cognitive, social, and emotional developmental patterns. When Eden was 4 she threw herself down on the couch and said, “You just don’t understand my life!” Cate on the other hand has been feeling really frustrated and saying, “I feel angry!” Yesterday she came into my room and announced, “I love black! I only wanna wear black from now on” Then she went in and put on a black turtleneck and a black velvet skirt. It was 83 degrees out side. Watch out teen … {read more…}

I am attending a conference for pastors and church leaders. An all-male team leads worship. The guy in front of me, running the sound, is wearing a “Proud to be an American” t shirt. The women echo the men on the choruses. The workshop options show a roster of male speakers and a session titled, “So you’re husband’s a pastor…who are you?” The administrative staff is referred to as “the gals.”

I am the female lead pastor of a church. There are probably less then ten of us, maybe less then 5 of us in the entire nation, for this denomination. We are strange fish in these waters. The tension in my throat is strong. I do not know how to live with integrity within this place.

Sometimes it is the inward nature of the church that troubles me the most – the almost impenetrable tendency to hole up within these four walls and just ask God for goodies, to look for the Holy Spirit fill-up and the spiritual warm fuzzies. But within that I still see God’s patient presence; God still speaking, still moving, still blessing, still healing.

So here today I wonder; if I can usually make space for that tendency, why can’t I make space today for these people and their systems? Why can’t I eat the fish and spit out the bones? Why can’t I accept the love and earnestness of these folks and let the rest lie?

Images of life with my in-laws comes to mind; their distinct Midwestern Bible-belt culture, the habits of their every day living. When I am within them I do not breathe normally. The air there is different and it strains my lungs and tightens my throat. Everyone in the family says to me, “You’re so different from Mom.” No one disputes that I am a fish out of water in their homes. But we make space for one another. We have figured out a very basic dance, and there is love there for each other, and at least a small amount of space for different ways of being.

But still, I do not breathe normally there. My throat constricts, as it is constricted here. What is the common denominator?….
{read more…}

Eugene Peterson writes this in his introduction to Luke:

“…religion has a long history of doing just that, of reducing the huge mysteries of God to the respectability of club rules, of shrinking the vast human community to a ‘membership.’ But with God there is no outsiders.”

No outsiders.

I once heard Brennan Manning say that the exchange passed between French Christians during the Easter season is: “The Love of God is Foolish.” This is also scrawled on blank walls and etched in the dirt on the back windows of metro busses. It is both a holy exchange and a favorite splash of graffiti.

I dig that.

God’s love is foolish. Extravagant. Vast. There should is room … {read more…}

From Sue Monk Kidd, Dance of the Dissident Daughter

“The myth of Philomela….While traveling to see her sister, Philomela was raped by her brother-in-law, Tereus. Outraged, she threatened to tell her sister and the world what he’d done to her. He responded by cutting out her tongue and banishing her to a guarded tower where she was forced to live in silence.

Eventually, though she seemed to know that if she continued to be silent she would die. So Philomela began to weave a series of tapestries that became her voice and told her story. She then enlisted an old woman to take them to her sister, who came and liberated her.

The myth is about the loss of women’s voices. It … {read more…}

I finally saw “Lost in Translation.” I know I know, it came out forever ago. But Justin (a guy Paul works with) just gave us his copy from Netflix, so we finally watched it. I read on someone’s blog recently that they hated Translation as much as they hated American Beauty. (I can’t remember whose blog.) There were creepy parts to American Beauty to be sure, but I kind of liked the teenagers’ angsty-ness and that bit with how beautiful the plastic bag was. That rang true, I thought.

Anyway, I don’t think Translation is akin to American Beauty. It’s not nearly as fatalistic, or dark, or deeply broken. The relationship between Bob and Charlotte is really … {read more…}

Log Date: June 12th

I saw Kingdom today, in the form of two Edens.

We were sewing/gluing/taping costumes together at the Red Hook Brewery - a great place to find Kingdom, especially when surrounded by nudist pagans - when my allergies took a turn for the worst and I had to leave the building. I stepped outside to find two little girls singing at the top of their lungs, for the joy of it. The little sister girls sang several folk songs with complicated lyrics I could never memorize, and then they started singing about giving glory to the Lord. It was a really cool tune I had never heard before, with potent lyrics about power in the name of God. Needless … {read more…}

Hey. So here’s the info about the opening of Stick & Pebble Studio. The Ballard ARTwalk happens every 2nd Saturday. The studio happens to be on
the same path as the other stuff on the ARTwalk. In fact, the address of the
studio is: 5308 Ballard Ave, which is the old Queen Hotel, though you
wouldn’t know it cause there isn’t a sign. Anyway, if you enter between
Portalis (wine shop) and Cugini (coffee shop), and go up the stairs and find
studio #3 (though there is no number on the door) you’ll find me and my
friend Jay, some wine, some handbound and painted books for sale (real live
hard covers, not yer … {read more…}