Lend an Ear.

OK so I was reading recently about ears.. I know, so normal... and I thought about my favorite sounds. Here is a start to that list...

Favorite Sounds-

• Elizabeth Olmstead's laugh (she'll probably never read this, so I can say that...)
• My church body (Midtown) singing on a Sunday morning, especially the words, "Christ is risen from the dead. We are one with Him again. Come awake, come awake. Come and rise up from the grave." sooo good to my soul. love it.
• A "nothing but net" freethrow shot in basketball.
• A horse's hooves galloping up a hill (reminds me of my days with Rocky Raccoon racing my friends on their horses in the pasture)
• My back door opening to tell me one of my roommates is home
• Kicking a pile of leaves at the start of fall
• Rain on a tin roof (I know, so cliche but it specifically reminds me of Camp McDowell during Rest Hour growing up. Loved that time. We never rested. We just sat on each other's beds and told stories for an hour.)
• At a track meet when the gun shoots and then like lightning, feet burst out of the blocks and pound into a rubber track for the 4x100 race. Ahh... miss those days.
• Orange Juice fizzling over crushed ice on a blazing hot summer day in Alabama.
• Fingers typing "mmargrandall" and my password (No, I will not share that with you..) into my gmail account. I am a pretty fast typer, what can I say? I like the sound of my own speed. :)
• I could make 500 of these lists for music alone, but I decided to just say one of my all-time favorite instruments, (for your sake and mine), the violin.
• The breeze whistling through my ears at 9,000 feet up in the air while I'm skydiving over the Talladega Race Course in Alabama. Good times. Call me crazy, but I still remember that sound.
• Ok one more musical reference- The Afro American Gospel Choir at The University of Alabama
• The Tennessee State University Step Team... or I should say, any step team. They are just the most recent that I saw perform.
• A sincere "Thank You" or "I'm sorry"
• An African student at work calling me "Ms. M&M"- this might be my favorite sound of all
• My name in Spanish, Maria Margarita. I don't know, I just love the sound of the r's as d's. It's so fun to say.
• Sneakers on a basketball court... makes me want to go to a college basketball game ASAP.
• A spoken word artist that has mastered the skill of articulation
• My phone vibrating announcing an anticipated text.. I know, such a jr. high statement but you have to admit... it does bring a smile.
• Close friends of mine meeting for the first time.
• Fire burning on Christmas morning

Ok now you do it and send them to me! (if you want... no pressure)

empty gestures

In the words of Henri Nouwen...

"In the morning, long before dawn, He got up and left the house, and went off to a lonely place and prayed there (Mk. 1:35). In the middle of sentences loaded with action-- healing suffering people, casting out devils, responding to impatient disciples, traveling from town to town and preaching from synagogue to synagogue-- we find these quiet words: 'In the morning, long before dawn, He got up and left the house, and went off to a lonely place and prayed there.' In the center of breathless activities we hear a restful breathing. Surrounded by hours of moving we find a moment of quiet stillness. In the heart of much involvement there are words of withdrawal. In the midst of action there is contemplation. And after much togetherness there is solitude...

In the lonely place Jesus finds the courage to follow God's will and not His own; to speak God's words and not His own; to do God's work and not His own... It is in the lonely place, where Jesus enters into intimacy with the Father, that His ministry is born.

Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our lives are in danger. Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, that without distance closeness cannot cure. Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our actions quickly become empty gestures.

The careful balance between silence and words, withdrawal and involvement, distance and closeness, solitude and community forms the basis of the Christian life and should therefore be the subject of our most personal attention."

-Introduction, Out of Solitude

(If you haven't read any Henri Nouwen, go pick up something from him now. Please.)

A Theology of Suffering

Yesterday I sat in a membership class for church and there is one thought I cannot escape: A theology of suffering.

WHAT?!

That's right, we were encouraged to process how we view and think about suffering in our lives. And the reality is.... I don't. I ignore it. I curse it and move on. I see God as someone outside of that. Of course He wouldn't let me suffer. He loves me. He only works for my good. And "my good" only comes from the beautiful, the victorious, the all-put-together-no-coloring-outside-of-the-lines kind of reality, right?

Ohhh I wish...

The truth is as I was reminded yesterday, Jesus invites us into His suffering. We are told in Matthew 20:23 that we will indeed drink from His cup. The cup of wrath, of hurt, of pain. And He meets us there.

Yes, some day we will dance to a new rhythm as we discover a new reality- a place of no pain, no sin, no struggle. A day when the Church, His beloved, His bride, is at once reunited with her Creator.

Until then, I am trying not to run from every painful experience.

In the words of one of the pastors at my church-

"Most of us often tend to think of our spiritual journeys as God directed adventures until something goes seriously wrong or until certain problems persist past the time we have given God to take them away. For too long we have been motivated by a solution-focused, make-it-work culture. When life gets tough, we think more about solving the problems rather than finding God in the midst of our problems. As a result, we end up focusing more on using God to improve our lives than on worshipping Him in any and every circumstance. And we end up regarding each other as projects that have problems that need to be fixed."

May we journey through this together as the body of Christ. Suffering, like celebration, is not meant to be travelled alone.

falling for you.

It's FALL yall! Let's rock it in style...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LYAEz777AU

Listening- An Act of Love.

Today at work we had a training on adolescent development and I just loved it. Adolescence is such a sweet time, and this workshop reminded me how much I love working with that age. Truly. This is what I was meant to do, I think...? (among many other things, but this theme bleeds over into so many pieces of my existence; it's hard to ignore.)

So I thought the training was going to be the same ole thing a few of our staff members completed a few months ago with the same instructor, but no-siree. This session was way more in depth and so refreshing and relevant. I must say, my favorite part was when we talked about the value of listening in our jobs. We did an activity called the Peace Circle... which apparently is a well known tool and while I had heard of different forms of it, I had never quite experienced this before.

All 15 or so of us sat on the floor in a circle with a candle lit in the middle and our leader opened up with this quote... and PS. while you read this quote, I encourage you to be completely still, completely present.

"Listen. Do not have an opinion while you listen because frankly, your opinion doesn't hold much water outside of your universe. Just listen. Listen until their brain has been twisted like a dripping towel and what they have to say is all over the floor."

-Hugh Elliott

Our instructor then asked us to describe a time where we felt truly listened to. She then passed a baton/"magic wand" around and you could not speak until you received the baton. We went in the same order each time... apparently, that's important too. It was empowering. And humbling. And eye-opening.

I feel like my heart sincerely comes alive when I am in that sacred space with people, hearing their stories with no distractions, no other noise besides their own voice. It's like pure gold to my ears. All senses are awakened.

And how ironic that we were all being trained on listening when just last week in my small group we were discussing the same topic. Coincidence? I think not. My group of soon-to-be dear friends (we are still developing that, I guess you could say..) sat around a similar, less structured chosen circle (as opposed to mandated and getting paid to be there) and described a situation where we felt truly listened to, validated, received.

I spoke about my experiences with a mentor of mine and how she so intently and actively listens to me in a way that allows me to live in a true and raw kind of freedom, a freedom so rich I can literally taste it. With her, I feel complete freedom to express my emotions, an unleashing of sorts, a release of a language dying to be heard and interpreted. I feel freedom to just be me. And let me tell you, there is nothing better.

This kind and genuine woman ever-so-gently takes all the "should be's" and "would be's" and any and every possible expectation I demand for myself and places them aside. She allows me to recognize these expectations and assumptions for what they are. She even encourages me to give names to them- like "maturity" and "responsibility" and "independence"... characteristics I claim to struggle with as I am learning how to be an adult, at least when I am the judge. But at the end of the day, she interprets, they are "should-be's". They do not hold nor deserve the weight and importance I give them.

And she reminds me of that.

She listens to me for who I am. In fact, she celebrates that with me. When I feel disorganized and scattered, she validates that. She never tries to correct me or "fix" me. She listens. She allows Silence to breathe into our space when it is simply asking for its voice to be heard. And we listen together. What a beautiful voice, like a long and forgotten friend.

Listening. It's a beautiful thing. Question- When's the last time you felt listened to? What did that feel like? Look like? Taste like? Sound like? Smell like?

Live there today.

Once Upon a Time...

Dress made out of recycled children's books! Yes please :)

OH, for heaven's sake...

So I am not too great at this whole consistency thing. I tend to leave some pretty heavy space in between each post, don't I? But you know, I see it as a good thing in a way... keeps you on your toes, I guess. :)

A lot has happened since I last posted. I feel like my life is spinning and sprinting in circles all around me, and I am just standing still, speechless in the center of it all. I watch with wide eyes and knees nervously shaking together in anticipation as though the earthquake inside of me has finally spilled over into my outer world and I can no longer distinguish one from the other. I am silenced by its irony, chaos, speed, and sluggish-ness... its beautiful, disturbing, and most times frightening unpredictability.

There are so many stories I could tell about tornado damage and family meetings and future roommates and seniors graduating and a Nashville community that I have come to truly love. (It's almost been a year here, WOW.) The funny thing is, though, that pretty much everyone that reads this blog knows those stories, so don't worry, I will spare you... And I am learning that there are really just some emotions and life experiences you simply cannot put into words as hard as that is to admit. I would love to try and I often do. But what is so beautiful to me are those conversations where no words are necessary, and in some odd way, two spirits sing the same silent song. And you just know. No words necessary... I have had many experiences like that with sweet Nashville friends and even a friend in Serbia over skype today. God breathes through those silences. Just because we are silent does not mean He is. In fact, that's when we hear Him best. It is in the silence that we hear Him call our name.

Beloved.

Right now I am listening to a jam session I had back in Colorado with a dear friend, Rachel San Luis (shout out....)! What a fun memory... we set up our keyboards across from each other and just played music for the entire afternoon. I will always cherish that memory. I imagine heaven to be full of grand pianos on top of gigantic marshmallow clouds with choirs of angels singing all around us. And I will probably be a much better piano player in heaven... at least I hope so.

I recently read Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo and I must confess, when my mom handed me that book with strong recommendation, I just could not take it seriously with the title and the nacho-cheese-yellow cover and the kid and the smile and... I stand corrected. I like to think the book is true. And I will continue to trust in that hope. But whether or not the little boy actually did go to heaven, I do believe in heaven and I KNOW that I can trust in that hope.

SO. Here's the deal. That book got me thinking about heaven with the creativity and imagination, yet matter-of-fact reality that it deserves. Why do we never think about heaven? We hear it more on the television than we do in our own hearts. As Americans, (and really, just human beings), we live in a culture that is so draining and short-sighted that it just sucks us right in effortlessly with its melodic and hypnotic techniques where all we think there is to this so-called life is a steady career, a new bike, and a husband... ok so it's different for everyone, I know.

But just for fun, let's dream for a minute...

Will we speak a new language? Will we wear wings? Will we shake hands with Adam and Eve and hear stories of baby Jesus's first steps from Mary? Will we know love so well we can taste it? Will we even remember what darkness felt like on our skin? Will we tell stories to the animals and even listen to a few from them? I bet they have lots to tell us... What will the lion and the horse's voice sound like? Will we meet unborn siblings and dance with Jesus at the Wedding Table? After all, we are His bride.