Twitter, Journaling Bibles, and Weather

I am linking up for the Five Minute Friday. The FMF is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Today’s prompt is “first.”

Tonight was the first FMF Twitter of the new year. I missed these people so much, They are so indeed my people. I love our conversations. I love how we always love on each other and support each other. We prayed for early contractions to cease. We talkd about food, and Christmas breaks and car break downs and journaling Bibles and so much more.

I think I might try a new first for me; trying a journaling Bible. I am no artist, but as a FMF friend reminded me, you were created by a creator so you are a creative. So I think I want to try my hand at a journaling Bible soon. Have you tried a journaling Bible yourself?

The weather here is suppose to shift this weekend. It is to get below zero; with windchill they are talking negative 30 degrees below zero. A first for this winter. We have been spoiled with such great weather. Luckily it is suppose to return to above average temperatures again next week.

There are so many firsts that we experience in our lives. Tonight I am typing a blog post using a brand new keyboard for my Ipad…and am loving it. Another new first. Firsts come throughout the ages of our lives. Firsts come in the first time we ride a bike with no training wheels. Firsts come in a new tooth or our first tooth or our first words. First comes in moving and getting our first real job. Firsts happen all the time, don’t they.

And in all of these firsts, I find joy and peace and most especially hope. So I will continue to “embrace” all the firsts in my life.

There is a Season

I am linking up for the Five Minute Friday. The FMF is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Today’s prompt is “Season” Write for five minutes; unedited.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to seek, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to throw away; a time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.”–Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Growing up on the prairies of North Dakota, I have always loved living in an area of the world where we experience four distinct seasons. I love in the spring watching new animals and new life come to fruition. In the summer, it is my joy to watch farmers especially my family tend and care for the land. In later summer/early fall, I love watching the grain, sunflowers, corn fields come even more to life. Then as Fall gives way watching as those fields are harvested. Then in the winter months, everything is covered in white as the snow covers the ground. This year, it is unseasonably warm and there is like no snow on the ground. It was 40 degrees yesterday!

Each of these seasons has their role in caring and stewarding for the land just like our lives have different seasons too. Seasons of life and death; seasons of joy and sorrow, seasons of war and peace. This week has been a week of death; a season of death that came way too early. My seminary friend Laura lost her battle with cancer earlier this week. My heart breaks for her daughters who have now lost both parents to cancer. It just doesn’t seem fair. In fact, it rather sucks!

Laura was an incredible woman who always turned to Christ even in the last moments of her life. * She continued to teach even until those last moments. “Be gentle with yourselves while you are grieving and tell those that you love that you love them and know that you are loved.” Those words from her are a reminder of this season of waiting and trusting in Emmanuel who comes as the light in the midst of the darkness. “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.”

So during this season of Advent, may we take time to dwell and wait for the birth of Emmanuel “God with us” who promises to never leave us or forsake us. May we tell those that we love that we love them and treasure the time we share together. May we simply remember the true reason for this season..”For God so loved the world that God gave God’s only Son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life. For God did not send God’s Son into the world to condemn the world, but to give eternal life.”

*This is where my five minutes stopped.

The Winds of Grief

Today marks the one year anniversary of the e-book Letters to Grief by Kate Motaung. Kate’s book is a book of essays about grief that will bless all because we all experience grief throughout our lifetimes. To celebrate the one year anniversary, Kate is hosting a special link-up of Letters to Grief. Little did she know that this week has been all about grief for me and so many of my friends. 

Dear grief,

Would you please go away? I have been immersed in you this week. My dear seminary friend lost her battle with cancer earlier this week and all of us; her mat-carriers are scattered far and wide. We all are grieving as a community and it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that Laura’s girls have now lost both parents to cancer. It isn’t fair that we didn’t get to say goodbye. It isn’t fair that a life was taken too short.
Growing up on the prairies of North Dakota, I have experienced the effects of the prairie winds. And you, grief, often feel like that prairie wind. Sometimes you blow in so gently like on Monday when the tears gently fell from my face as I read the news of my friend’s passing. Or sometimes you blow in more like a winter storm leaving the affects of a strong wind behind. And other times, you blow in like a light breeze before a summer rain. 
Sometimes that wind leaves me drenched after a summer rain leaving me uncomfortable. Other times that wind blows in so strong that I feel as if I am drowning. And other times, I am left just a little damp or even dry. No matter what type of wind and how wet I find myself, I find myself trying to escape the depths of grief; yearning to throw off those wet clothes of grief.
Grief, not only, are you like those ND prairie winds, but you also are like mountain climbing. Some days I find myself clawing my way victorious to the top of Mt. Grief. Other times, I find myself slipping, sliding, and falling down that same mountain trying to climb my way out of the depths of grief. And other times, I find myself simply holding on for the ride…hoping and praying that I will come out on the other side a changed person. And yet other times, I find myself panting for breath wondering if I will be able to breath again.
Oh grief, I am already tired of you, but I also know that you are a part of life. My wise pastoral friend Laura found a way to remind all of us mat-carriers of that when she said, “Be patient with yourselves while you are grieving and tell the people you love that you love them and know that you are loved.” Grief, I am not going to let you take that promise away from me. It is a promise that can overshadow the grief I and so many are feeling in these days of loss because “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.”
Grief, during these days of Advent, as we wait for the coming of Emmanuel, may you come in like gentle waves on an ocean rather than like crashing hurricane force winds. And grief, may you know that you have no power over hearing those three simple words “I love you!”

The Worst Interview in the World

Growing up in small town North Dakota, there weren’t many options for a job when I was in high school. I worked at the local theater taking tickets, selling concessions and making popcorn. Before I graduated high school, I was looking for a new summer job. One day my Uncle and Grandma suggested that I work at our church’s Bible camp, so I decided to apply for a job as a Bible camp counselor.

The camp director received my resume and set up an interview with me. I drove to Bismarck ND where we met at Perkins for my interview. It was the worst interview in the world! I looked at my shoes and at the top of the table the whole time he was interviewing me. I don’t think I ever looked him straight in the face. I left feeling defeated. Yet despite it being the worst interview in the world, the camp director decided to hire me anyways.

I graduated high school on a Sunday and was off to camp last than 36 hours after graduating. I spent that summer growing as a woman of faith. Little did I know that working at camp would change me in the most positive ways. It was the first place that I openly shared our family’s journey with a mental illness. It was the place that blessed me and would be the place where I eventually would hear the call to seminary.

I worked there all summer. Then the next summer, after my Freshmen year of college, I returned to work another summer as a camp counselor. Halfway through the summer, the camp director and the program director invited each of us to a mid-summer evaluation. During my evaluation, the camp director looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I didn’t think you were going to make it. I hired you thinking I would take you as long as you would make it. And now I cannot get rid of you. You are like a mother hen with all of her little chicks.”

As I heard him say those words to me, a smile spread across my face. God’s hand of grace had indeed intervened as God tapped the camp director’s shoulder and in not so many words, called him to hire me despite all of his hesitation. It was God’s hand of grace that called me to work at camp and eventually led me to seminary. It was in this holy place on the prairies of North Dakota, right off Lake Sakakawea where I received the gift of God’s grace.

The Most Gracious Athletes I’ve Ever Met!

Have you ever met people who simply exude grace to you? I can name a few people off the top of my head…my parents, my sister, my friends. But today I want to introduce you to some very special individuals who have taught me about grace and what graciousness truly looks like.

When I was at seminary, I had to do fieldwork to receive my degree. I sent letters home to some organizations in North Dakota explaining what I was looking for and if they would have any opportunities. I sent to the Ronald McDonald House, Special Olympics ND and so many other organizations. Special Olympics ND contacted me to let me know they had a position open for me.

So I moved back to North Dakota and lived with my aunt and uncle for the summer. During my time at Special Olympics, I got to interact with many Special Olympics athletes. And to this day, my friends, I am so very thankful for that experience that summer because these men and women taught me about the goodness of God’s grace.

I remember selling souvenirs at the State Summer Games when several athletes came to buy a new t-shirt, sweatshirt, etc. They would always ask me my name and I would tell them. Then in return, I would ask them their names and what events they were competing in that day. It never failed that someone needed a larger size and inevitably we were out. But they never got mad. They would ask my opinion and we would find them another new item of clothing to add to their collection.

But, my favorite example of these athletes was watching them compete. Yes, some of them had their competitive side. But for the most part, they simply cheered each other on. They would stand on the podium with smiles spread across their faces; whether they were standing in the 1st place spot or in the 8th place spot. They would be handed their ribbon or have their bronze, silver, or gold medal hung on their neck. After the medal ceremony, these athletes would run around showing anyone and everyone their new prize.

I remember standing there thinking…these athletes are so gracious to each other. They are gracious about winning…and they are gracious about losing. In fact, they are the most gracious athletes I have ever met. (I think our professional teams and athletes could learn quite a bit from them!) And I think we too could learn a thing or two from them as they continue to teach us the goodness of God’s amazing grace.

To learn more about Special Olympics ND, click Here!

A John Deere Tractor, A Wheelrake, My Dad and A Whole Lotta Grace!!

This is Day 2 of 31 in my Write 31 Days series: 31 Stories of God’s Grace. I also am linking up for the Five Minute Friday. The FMF is hosted by Kate Motaung on her blog Heading Home. Today’s prompt is “Family.” Write for five minutes; unedited.


My family has taught me a lot about grace through my life. Our Dad especially has gotten really good at showing grace to my sister and I.

I remember one summer in particular, when Dad had taught me how to drive the tractor and wheel rake and entrusted me with the responsibility of raking one of our fields. One sunny North Dakota afternoon, my sister and I were raking a field. Ann was riding on the tractor with me. At one point, I turned the corner too sharp and totally didn’t quite make the corner. The wheel rake was entangled with the fence that marked the boundary for the field. I looked at Ann and Ann looked at me.

For a few minutes, I am pretty sure neither of us showed grace to each other. We argued over why this calamity had happened in the first place. I am pretty sure that I blamed her for being in my line of sight and she probably blamed me for not paying attention to where I was going. After arguing, we jumped down off the tractor and tried to figure out how to get the wheel rake unstuck.

We decided it was a lost cause. We had to admit defeat. Ann and I walked back to find Dad who then came over to find our conundrum. He just shook his head and asked “How in the world did you get the rake that stuck?” As he tried to figure out the best way to untangle the rake from the fence, he was not at all gracious with either of us as he was disappointed in our actions.

But once the rake was unstuck and Dad had a minute to reflect on the situation, he offered us grace; grace that came in his forgiveness to us. I remember that day well. I remember totally turning that corner too sharp and tangling that wheel rake in the fence. I remember my sister and I arguing over what happened. But most of all, I remember that grace that we were offered through forgiveness by Dad and the rest of our family.

It is one of those stories that definitely changed me and did not leave me where it found me. For you will never see me turning a tractor too sharp again…instead I will turn the tractor much wider so I have lots of room to swing that wheel rake around.

A Garden Not A Tumbleweed

Joining in with the online discussion on the book “On Being A Writer” by Ann Kroeker and Charity Singleton Craig. Today we are working through Chapter 10: Plan.

Growing up on the prairies of North Dakota, during seasons of drought, I have seen my fair share of tumbleweeds blowing about. I know how easily they can show up in the most unwanted places. As I read Ann’s words about how she viewed her writing as a tumbleweed, I found myself shaking my head along in agreement.

I haven’t much had a plan when it comes to this space. I’ve written when I felt the nudge to write. Yet I want more than that. I want a better plan. I want my writing to reach those that God wants me to reach. I’m reminded of the words to Jeremiah 29:11 “For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord; plans to prosper and not harm you; to give you a future with hope.”

Last October when I participated in my first 31 days challenge, it did change my plan some. I have been more of a planner since than. Even when I haven’t necessarily felt like writing, that is when I have felt the need to write more. In other words, I am nurturing and nourishing my words in this place. Im reminded of Ann’s words when she writes: “My writing life these days is more like the habit of keeping a garden. I sow seeds, watch for growth and fruit, nurture what’s flourishing until it seems the harvest is fading, and a sow a new batch of seeds when the time is right.”

I love that image! I want that hear in this space too. When I was younger, I dreamed of writing my own children’s book. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve wondered about sharing our story of mental illness in a book. It is something I have been praying and thinking about even more lately. I want to continue to share my words; to sow seeds, watch for growth and sow new seeds when the timing is right.

I want my writing to be a garden of fruitfulness rather than a single tumbleweed blowing about like on the prairies of North Dakota.

Our Trip Was Only Just Beginning….

Joining in with the online discussion on the book “On Being A Writer” by Ann Kroeker and Charity Singleton Craig. Today we are working through Chapter 4: Notice. Why is noticing important? How can we improve our noticing skills? Why and how does noticing enhance our writing lives?


I carefully packed my clothes away in my red suitcase. After double-checking our lists, I zipped up the suitcase and set it against the wall. My sister’s lopsided suitcase with the broken off leg leaning gently against my suitcase.

My alarm clock rang with its annoying buzz the next morning as I headed off to worship. Dear sweet children gathered around my feet for the children’s sermon. After worship, we headed down stairs past the quilters room and Brides room into our gathering space. We sat and broke bread together. The hours after worship seemed to crawl by much like a very slow turtle.

Finally the clock struck 2:30 pm. A text from my dear friend CT came through on my phone. She was on her way to pick us up. Ann and I stood by the door, suitcases by our side, waiting not so patiently to get our adventure started. CT arrived. I quickly locked the doors to my house. Then we loaded the carefully packed suitcases into her car. She dropped us off at the airport but not before wrapping each of us in her arms as she hugged us goodbye.

CT drove off and Ann and I stood in line. I successfully went through security while Ann was taken off to the side. Not exactly sure why she was pulled out but after a quick check, she was also waved through. We each grabbed our items out of the security bins and slipped our shoes back onto our feet. Then we found our seats and waited for our flight.

Finally the plane arrived and we began boarding for our flight. The first half of our flight from Minot to Minneapolis was extremely short just enough time for the flight attendants to pass out snacks and beverages before we were descending down into Minneapolis. After landing, we got off the plane and walked from our current gate to our next gate and almost immediately began boarding our flight for Nashville.

After finding our seats, we soon were taking off. I grabbed onto the chair in front of me until we were at our cruising altitude. In the air, we looked out the window. A sea of fluffy white marshmallow clouds was sprawled out in front of us. It felt like we could reach out and touch them.

Soon we were descending into Nashville. After landing, Ann and I found our way to baggage claim where we picked up her lopsided suitcase. I had carried my suitcase onto the plane as a carry-on. After a few moments, Ann spotted her suitcase. She wound her way through the crowd of people waiting and grabbed her suitcase. With suitcases in hand, we walked out into the hot humid August Nashville air. Luckily we found a cab waiting area and there was no one in line. The attendant told us the cost of the cab ride $26, loaded our suitcases into the cab, and then the cab driver opened the door for us. We got into the vehicle and sat down.

On our way to the hotel, the cab driver asked us where we were from and if this was our first time in Nashville. As we drove along, we sat glancing out the window, taking in the sights and sounds of this new place we were now visiting. Before we knew it, we arrived at the hotel; the Hyatt Place which is only three years old and used to be a parking garage. It was so close to downtown Nashville that we could walk everywhere.

A concierge was waiting on the sidewalk as the taxi driver pulled up. The concierge pulled our suitcases from the taxi. We paid the taxi driver and thanked him for our ride.

Through the glass doors, we entered the hotel into the lobby of the hotel. In front of us, behind the front desk, stood this wall full of words describing the city of Nashville: music, bright lights, etc. We took in the wall and our new surroundings as we waited. Finally we were next in line. And we soon were checked into our hotel.

With our keys in hand, Ann and I wheeled our luggage…well kind of wheeled since Ann’s one leg was broken off…to the elevator. We pushed the round button for the elevator to come to us. It came. We stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the 7th floor. The elevator ascended. We stepped out of the elevator, turned right, and then turned left down a long narrow hallway. Soon we arrived at the door to our room. We slid the key into the door and opened the door.

Ann and I sat down our luggage and inhaled the landscape before us. Right as you came in the room, the bathroom was to our right. Taking a few more steps, there was a couch set before us much like a living room. On the bottom shelf of the bookcase, lay a hard covered book about Nashville and its many sights. On the top shelf, lay a soft white blanket. Standing next to the end of the couch was a room divider. On the other side of the room divider were two queen side beds with an end table between them. On the opposite wall was a closet. Next to the closet was the television which stood on a dresser. There also was a small refrigerator which stood on floor near the dresser. Next to the dresser was a full length mirror. Next to my bed was a huge picture window. With the curtains open, the view out that window was the view of a rooftop pool at a neighboring hotel.

Next to the closet was a little nook. That empty space next to the closet became the place where all of my belongings were sprawled out throughout the week…my suitcase, souvenirs, my shoes and the list goes on. The space next to the couch became the area where my sister laid out her belongings during the week.

After a long day of traveling, our stomachs were growling for food. We took the elevator down to the hotel lobby and to the restaurant/bar in the hotel. We perused over the menu and then placed our order; a cheese quesadilla. The waiter asked us where we were from and we told him North Dakota. He smiled back at us and said I can tell. (Apparently we had a pretty prominent accent!) Our order came. We bit into our food; the ooey gooey cheese tasted so good in our mouths. We quickly devoured our food.

Once our meal was finished, we rode the elevator back up to our hotel room. After sliding the key in the door and entering back into our room,  we changed into our pjs, pulled back the covers, and crawled into our beds as we drifted off to dreamland. Waking up refreshed and renewed for what would be an epic joy-filled fun week in Nashville together.

Our trip was only just beginning…..

Those Four Little Words

A black binder full of my poetry sits on the bottom shelf of my bookcase…

A bound copy of a poetry anthology sits on that shelf as well with one of my poems published in it….

(Both items hidden away so others will not see them!)

A blog post of mine has been shared by the ELCA on their site “Living Lutheran”…

And I have two blogs….one specifically for my writing and the other being my main blog.

Yet I still only can seem to muster the words, “Oh I like to write” OR “Writing and/or Blogging is a Hobby.” But I still do not and cannot seem to identify myself as a writer!

When I was little, my mom said I was a kid who was happy with pen and paper and not with toys. I was content to sit and pour words out onto a page for others to read. As I got older, I loved my creative writing classes and my English classes which led to me getting a Communications degree when I headed off to college. I have a degree in Communications with an emphasis in Journalism and an English minor.

One would think that those credentials in and of themselves would qualify me and help me to identify as a writer…but they don’t. I still struggle to find those words: “I am a writer!” So often I find that I get caught up in the comparison game. So and so’s blog is so much better and prettier than mine. So and so writes more eloquently than I do. But what I need to remember is that it isn’t about comparing my words to others because my words are simply that: “my own words”.

Several years ago, I joined a writing group at my local library. I was excited to meet new people outside of work and was hoping to share my words with others and hone my craft. One evening, I chose to share a poem I had written sharing my families struggle with mental illness. As I finished reading, one of the other participants lit into me: “Do your family members know what you are writing about? How dare you write about this subject?” I ran out of that room as quickly as possible, put on my coat, and ventured out in the bitter North Dakota cold straight to my car. I opened the door and sat down in the driver’s seat where the tears immediately began to flow. I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number for my colleague. I was crying so hard by the time he answered the phone that he had to tell me to breathe. This woman had literally taken the wind out of my sails and I now questioned even more if God was calling me to write; let alone be a writer.

Over the next several days, weeks, months, and years, I have had to learn from that experience. I have realized that so often my words have been words of healing for me…and for others and not words of pain. I have come to realize that for me often my words have been the bravest words I have shared because they have opened up my own vulnerability.  I have come to also realize that my words embody my story and continually remind me of who and whose I am. I have also come to realize that my words are a gift from God! And trusting in that gift, I am trying to find the courage to utter those four simple words “I am a writer!”

I’ll admit that more often than not I have a hard time receiving this gift, but the truth is that God has empowered so many of us to write. I hear others including my friends and family call me a writer, but I still have a hard time believing them. Their words are gift, yet so often I don’t hear them at all. My ears need to be open to hearing the voice of God proclaiming to me and to so many of us “You are indeed a writer. I gifted you to be able to share your story through words. Your words are not a waste!”

It is extremely scary and vulnerable to utter those four simple words. Yet as dear Holley Gerth states: “Be courageous and write in a way that scares you a little.” So even though it still scares me to let those four simple words come out my mouth, I am going to lean into them, keep writing and continue saying them until hopefully I believe them for myself.

I AM A WRITER!

I am linking up with my favorites today–Kate Motaung and her series On Being A Writer, Holly Barrett and Testimony Tuesday, Kelly and the RaRa Linkup, Holley and Coffee for Your Heart, and Jennifer and Tell His Story.


 



 

Seeking Peace

Seeking peace….my friends…can be such a difficult thing to do in this crazy busy hustling world. But the truth is that even when we take five minutes with him, God has a way of showing up and showing us peace..of reminding us of the importance of Sabbath in our every day lives.

Just tonight, I found myself at a picnic. In the midst of the picnic, I found myself simply sitting taking in the cool air and was reminded of the beauty of creation as I watched the kids with smiles on their faces playing. Then I came to church to check on our community garden where they were busy building garden boxes. My colleague, her husband, another colleague and another friend were busy working on the boxes when I arrived. My colleagues two year old son was watching and playing outdoors. While my colleague was working with them on the boxes, I was hanging out with Mr. E. As I sat in the box of the pickup and listened to this sweet little boy chat with me. I couldn’t help but think about how being with him was bringing me peace…because it was causing me to pause and just simply sit with him.

Isn’t it funny how God has this way of reminding us of the importance of Sabbath and helping us to seek peace. Some of my favorite places have become places where I truly experience God’s peace. My favorite place in the world…the Bible camp I worked at for approximately seven summers helps me to exhale and take in the beauty of God’s creation. As my car turns onto the gravel road to that holy place, I find myself feeling much lighter. It is a place where I always am at peace.

On Sunday, I will be heading to Colorado and the Rocky Mountains for a continuing education class. This is the fifth summer that I have participated in this event. It is hard to explain but the minute I come around the bends and see the Rocky Mountains staring back at me, my whole body is at peace. It is as if my whole body exhales and peace immediately enters in. Sitting around Lily Lake or on the front porch at Meeker Park Lodge or wherever I might find myself, I don’t have to look far at all to find God’s peace because it is already there staring right back at me.

And as I think about how it is there along, I am reminded that it is in my every day too. I just have to stop and take the time to see it, to feel it and to hear it. God offers an everlasting peace that only God can provide. But we must take the time to seek it, to find it, and to let it enter in. Because when we do, God is right there painting  this beautiful masterpiece…like a golden sunset, or the golden wheat blowing in the fields of the prairies of North Dakota, or right in my own back yard.

And as God paints that beautiful masterpiece, we begin to see the beauty in the midst of the brokenness, the extraordinary in the midst of the ordinary and experience the everlasting peace that only God can provide us.

I am linking up with Holly for Testimony Tuesday, Kelly for the RaRa Linkup, Jennifer for Tell His Story and Holley for Coffee for your Heart: