The Liturgy of a New Year

{This photo was taken a year ago at Cowiche Canyon, Washington}

I want to write love letters with a paper and pen. I want to make house calls. I want to waste time on things that matter. On things that leave a mark in this world and the next. I want to carve out time to stop and boil the water. To bring out the china and the silver. To ask good questions of myself and my neighbors. And to listen patiently for the subtle answers. I want to live a life of love and liturgy.
Sandra McCracken, Tea & Liturgy

The word liturgy conjures up many other words such as form, order, worship, tradition, custom. I once read a beautiful piece on the liturgy of tea written by one of my favorite singer/songwriters. The quote above is from that article.

God has ordained structure and rhythm into the fabric of creation. There is a pulse. There is a poem. This year, I want to open my ears to hear more of that poem, written in the Scriptures, written on my heart, written in the daily tasks and regular rhythms of life where the ordinary is not ordinary but becomes the extraordinary when I open my ears and my eyes to the presence of Christ in every moment of every day that He has ordained. Whether they are good moments, or hard moments, whether they are moments of joy and laughter, or moments where I need to humble myself and submit to the good will of a loving Shepherd… from the mundane moments of putting dirty laundry into the washer machine to the beautiful memories made celebrating a birthday with all the pageantry of cakes, food, gifts, and games.

A year is structured by seasons, holidays, traditions, birthdays, times of rest and times of work. As the liturgy, form, traditions of your year play out, let there be worship of Jesus in the midst of it all. Let there be the continual rhythm of repentance and grace, quietness and trust, celebration and joy. And may we abide in the person of Jesus. This is where our true rest is. Practicing His presence, knowing He is with us, and finding our joy complete in Him as we live out the liturgy of our lives, year after year.

This is a vignette I wrote on January 4th, 2012 for my previous blog, The Artisan Home. I am re-posting it today to celebrate this new year, 2016.

The Year of the Good Shepherd

It was a year ago, for what seemed like countless nights, I laid my head down on my pillow at the close of the day, listening to the faint sound of cars rushing to and fro along the highway from our apartment window. Thinking, planning, preparing for our move across the country to a foreign mid-west destination. It seemed impossible, insurmountable, it didn’t seem like it was God’s plan. It was too far, plain and simple. The night worries would arrive, at times there were tears. It was too far. I couldn’t picture our new home. I had never been here before. I had no context, only fear. Questions would flood through my thoughts: Would we be safe? What if our truck broke down along the way in the barren lands between the cities? Where would we live? Would there be friends for our children nearby? Will there be friends for us? Where will we go to church? Which neighborhood should we choose? Should we rent or buy? All these thoughts would rush upon me in the evening hours.

Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you. Hebrews 13:5

Many nights, I would fall asleep praying and repeating Scripture over and over, like a broken record player, until at last the Lord closed my eyes and gave me sleep.

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. -Isaiah 41:10

Then the sun would rise. Streams of light through my window, the children would wake up from their slumber, one by one, and a new day would begin. New mercies would come, excitement for our upcoming move, joy and peace, news of new developments in our plans, encouraging emails and notes from friends. Inspiration and a constant source of joy in the daily readings of Charles Spurgeon’s Morning & Evening devotional. The excitement was thrilling as I packed boxes and made lists and walked in faith for God’s plan for our family.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
-Lamentations 3:22-23

As the day came to a close, dishes piled high in the sink and clean laundry in baskets, toys cleaned up and books put away, I braced myself for the evening worries that were sure to arrive with the setting of the sun. Once again, I would be forced to face these giants and take up the shield of faith, that shield which really is Christ himself. He is the shield, the sword, the belt, the helmet, the entire armor.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
forever. -Psalm 23

And the sun would rise.

His mercies are new every morning.

As the nights and days continued this pattern of fear & despair and then of faith & joy, the Holy Spirit continued to confirm what He was doing. A note from my mother with just a verse… Isaiah 41:10. A note from my mother-in-law with the names of God: Jehovah Jireh – Provider, Jehovah Nissi – Battle fighter, Jehovah Shalom – Giver of Peace, Jehovah Rophe – Healer, Jehovah Tsidkenu – Our Righteousness, Jehovah Shammah – Ever Present One, Jehovah Rohi – Good Shepherd. And after our move, a gift from a friend arrived in the mail… Psalm 23 in beautiful hand lettering. There it was again… the Good Shepherd.

The months continued on as we mixed the regular routine of life with packing boxes, a few every week, slowly setting aside the things we would need for the trip. And then came the news that my Dad was diagnosed with a low level of cancer. I couldn’t bear to be so far from him if he was to go through testing and treatment. I was at the end of myself.

At the edge of my bed that night, Craig and I started to brainstorm about other possibilities for him to get his seminary degree. It was then that he said we could move back to the coast so we could be closer to my family and then he could do his degree online. We were ecstatic. Could this really be happening? The plans were set in motion and our compass was turned westward and we started the arduous search for a rental home and setting up contacts at a church where we could officially come “under care” during his seminary studies which was a requirement for online study.

It was 2 weeks before the move “back home” and we still had not found a rental home. We had no place to live, and the rental requirements had changed putting us in a position where we could not rent without a cosigner, work to make enough money for the county requirements, and go to seminary full or even part time to make this work. Rental homes were too expensive, owners weren’t getting back to us. Craig’s trips to search out a place back home were coming up with no options. We were stuck, as if all the roads we had tried to go down were now vanishing before our eyes.

It was there on the porch of Craig’s parents’ home in mid-May that we sat after a long day of work, as the kids ran around on the lawn around us, that we made the only decision that was left to us… which really wasn’t a decision afterall, but a clear direction. We would return to our original plan of moving to the mid-west, where there would be an affordable apartment unit waiting for our family, a close-knit community ready to receive us for these 4 years of intense study. God gave us inexplainable peace. He had shown us the way. We had been rerouted. And though we don’t know exactly why, we know that in God’s wisdom, it was the way He chose to bring this about.

We had two weeks to prepare, get paperwork going for healthcare, plan out the roadtrip, the clothing bins, the food bins for our three day journey across the country. A few days before we left, my daughter came down with a double ear infection, then my son. While we were at the doctor office, I decided to just get us all checked. I was also coming down with an ear infection and our one year old had traces of pneumonia found after a chest X-ray. It was all I could do to keep going. After several visits to the doctor and pharmacy that day, my prayers were desperate. We were leaving in the morning with an ill family and in need of doctor checkups. Once we crossed out of the state, our healthcare provision would be gone.

“Lord, You are the only One who can get us across the country in one piece. Please heal us and keep us well and bring us safely to our new home. You are the Good Shepherd.” These types of prayers filled my every waking moment and my prayers as I fell asleep each night. Knowing the cost of healthcare bills without insurance, my heart was tempted to worry. God was bringing us in complete and loving dependance on Him alone. Our sweet Father, in all His wisdom, knew exactly what was required.

With our moving van packed up, our truck packed with our four children, clothing bins, necessities, books and games for the kids, presents from the Nanas and Papas for the road trip, and a cooler filled with ice and medicine, we started out early that morning, that morning where His mercies were new again, with excitement and joy, following our Good Shepherd into all that He had for us, following our Provider into a life of increased sacrifice and requiring increased faith for an unknown journey.

It was a morning of worship and singing as we drove out, me driving the truck full of children and music and a mug of coffee, following behind my fearless leader husband as he drove the moving truck full of all our earthly possessions. We arrived, safe and sound, into a land of blessing, provision, joy, new trials, and sweet comforts from the Lord. This is home for now, the place the Good Shepherd prepared for us.

The year of our Lord, 2015, has been a year of knowing Christ as the Good Shepherd. Dwelling in the reality of Psalm 23 and experiencing Him as the Good Shepherd has forever deepened my relationship with Him. He continues to show us the reality of His tender love, provision, protection, comfort, and joy.

The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are filled with joy. Psalm 126:3

Red Rustic Jingle Bells

Red rustic jingle bells hung on the tree by your sweet little fingers, so small and so eager. The Christmas music is playing as we dance around the room. You pull out the ornaments that are treasured each year. “Remember this one we made?” you say as you laugh out loud. Your faces are glowing with excitement. Little hands reaching high to help, to put that ornament on just so.

Creating memories. No gold or perfection, its not even a real tree this year. Its not even that tall! But I couldn’t ask for a more lovely tree because its full of your handiwork. And I will gaze on these ornaments for the rest of my Christmases. Memories made from years past, handmade ornaments that we’ve crafted with love as we’ve woven in the story of a Babe come to Earth.

An ornament breaks as it falls to the ground, and another one. I saw that one coming and probably should have intercepted it. But I rush to the fixes with words of kindness and comfort, vacuum up messes, and carry on. A few final touches and we’re almost done. Paper angels, and pipe cleaner candy canes, styrofoam snowmen, and glitter faces.

“Beautiful!” I proclaim as we stand to admire and take a picture in front of it. Your smiling faces light up mine. You’ve made it unique, beautiful, special, and full of new memories made. Just like my childhood memories of decorating the family tree, my mama turning on the record player or cassette tape, the hilarity and dancing around the tree, hanging ornaments on my sisters, wrapping up our dog with Christmas lights, and throwing faux snow onto the tree (…and then onto each other)!

Each year, as we decorate our tree, we are decorating your childhood with precious memories.

Rerouted

The dry, orange and brown leaves are crunching underfoot as my feet move swiftly in the silence. The sky is grey and geese flock to the pond. I feel the tension in my lungs as I breathe laboriously. I keep moving and never stop. Walking, then running, walking, then running. My eyes are focused on the breath-taking beauty all around me. Deciduous trees in bright yellows, fiery reds, and radiant oranges. It is quiet and I meet with God here. I run.

The Autumn here is beautiful and it feels familiar. It is getting cool here  which is perfectly pleasant to this foreigner now living in the mid-west. It is Autumn. We have been here for 4 and a half months. And now in this season of falling leaves, cooler weather and the smells of moist leaves in the forest along the Meramec River, it reminds me of home.

We were on the path to moving to the mid-west over a year and a half ago. Then we made an abrupt turn around and decided to head west again to the coast. But just when you think you know what God’s plans are, He often makes things very clear that He truly is in control. And despite our best efforts to plan and prepare, we are truly not in control. He moves us where He wills and He uses ordinary means to accomplish His purposes. Though we miss home, family, and friends, God has blessed us here in the mid-west and it has been quite the adventure. We’ve been refreshed in so many wonderful ways and God’s hand of providence has given us a home sweet home here in the community where we live.

We were on a path and then we were rerouted. Did God change His mind? No. Did God mislead us? No. Sometimes the journey takes twists and turns that we didn’t quite expect. Sometimes there’s a fork in the road and you have to do your best to determine which route to take. And sometimes you may loop around and end up back at the fork in the road and realize the loop wasn’t there to trick you or to mislead you. Perhaps it was there to confirm the path you needed to take. Perhaps the loop was there to show you more beauty and to make you truly appreciate the path you are supposed to take.

So we run, heart pounding, eyes embracing the beauty all around us, and feet moving swiftly one foot in front of the other to complete the race marked out for us. Perhaps being rerouted was all part of the plan after all. Of this, I am certain.

I run.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

(Hebrews 12:1-2 ESV)

Blessings from the Back Pew

I originally wrote this post for our church’s blog in Spring of 2015, just before we said farewell to embark on a journey that would take us across the country for continued training in ministry. We have both been blessed to serve, both as singles and as married, in many churches in various roles and ministries. Each of these churches holds a special place in our hearts.

“Reserved for the elderly and families with young children” reads the white sign with bold red letters. These signs are laid carefully on the seats of the last few pews in the church sanctuary every Sunday. These seats are reserved for the oldest and the youngest of the church. People like me, a mother with young children. I am so thankful that we can count on seats for our family of little ones, and also that we can be grouped together with the most honored saints of our church family, the elderly. It is comforting as a mom of young ones to be surrounded by those who have gone before us, who have weathered the storms of life and walked through years of sanctification and maturing in the faith, and who can look back on life and encourage us with stories of the faithfulness of Christ.

For the past three years, I’ve had the honor of sitting in the “back pew” with our children, from the earliest days of infancy with our youngest two as they approach the day when we introduce them to the nursery. I know that when I’m holding one of my kids while they peer over my shoulder, and they suddenly smile, that someone is either smiling, waving or making a cute expression to them!

I wanted to share this reflection with you, because I want you to know, Sun Valley Church, how very beautiful you are to us. You are a part of the Bride of Christ. As I have sat at the back of the church these past three years, I have worshipped along with you. And once in a while, I look around. I look at all of you… and I smile. I see you worshipping God, heads bowed, hands raised, moms and dads holding babies and toddlers, a husband’s arm around his wife, a head nodding, and an occasional glorious “Amen” sounding from the very back. I think of all the various ministries represented by each person in the church and in the community. It is beautiful. The beauty causes my heart to sing even louder, the smile on my face to grow wider, the tears to flow faster, and my hands raised higher… to our Redeemer. We are the Body of Christ together.

Another feature of sitting in the back pew is that usually a little one has fallen asleep on my lap and I may not be able to stand up and walk forward for communion. I am deeply grateful for those who bring the communion bread and cup to us who sit in the back pew, so that we may partake as well. I sing along and I watch. I watch you, Sun Valley Church, as we gather together to stand before the cross, to stand before the elders of the church and come together to receive the bread and the cup. We are the Body of Christ together and we come, each of us, redeemed sinners, to fellowship in the grace of Christ.

“By His wounds, His wounds, will we be healed.

And for our transgressions, His passion has made us well.

Let us come again, and feed on Him, our Lord Emmanuel.”

I am thankful for our little spot in the back pew. It is where we have raised our children, where we have worshipped, where we have watched, listened, prayed, sang, wept, repented, rejoiced, fellowshipped. It is where the youngest in the church have fellowshipped with the eldest of our church. It is where we have grown, received, and been poured back into. It is where a kind, wrinkled hand reaches out to hands that are full; where prayer requests are exchanged and hugs given. These, and the children we carry, are the blessings from the Back Pew.

A Basketful of Books

Our little, big family is in transition right now. After 3 years living in Eastern Washington, we are about to embark on a whole new adventure with God. My husband will be working on his Masters of Divinity for the next 4 years. We will be moving back home to the Pacific Northwest! All our stuff is packed away in boxes, stored away for our move after a temporary stay at my husband’s childhood home. His parents are so gracious to host us once again! So we live out of boxes and bins and baskets. And that is where this vignette begins…

A sunny day, and all you littles want to do is play. And with a smile, I remind you, there’s lots to do each day. So we wake up while the hills are covered with a sheet of sun, and the flowers wake up from their star-filled slumber. Our cereal bowls filled with snap, crackle, pop, and a mouths stained with berry smoothie. We hop to the day to get dressed and get ready for a brand new day of learning. You’re off to play, while Mama finishes her morning latte, prepared by Daddy who is already settling in to his work day at church. Baby is finishing up his mishmash of nutritious goodness that Mama has prepared.

You kiddos, so happy, to run off and play together each day. I am so thankful that our Good Shepherd has blessed our family with four little ones, all close in age. This makes my heart very happy. You are all friends and in my heart, I pray, that your friendships will grow with each other as the years go by and that even as grownups, your love and friendship for each other will remain.

Our learning day begins with arithmetic in the morning. Gotta get those brains working hard while the morning is fresh, the day is new. I’ve always loved math (except for that last year of grade 11… not so much). Did you know, kiddos, that you can glorify God in Math? It is true! And it is amazing! When you think of the way God designed the world, how intricate the number patterns are… how perfectly God has ordered the world. His design is so precise. I am thrilled to learn along with you in this learning process how gloriously God displays His power in Math!

Our day goes along as we practice early linguistics, understanding phonograms and learning how to write, read, spell. This excites me as I am laying down foundations that we will build upon later for learning languages. Who knows… maybe God will use different languages in your life in a special way for building His kingdom.

Balancing the schedules of four little people is quite the task! But I love it and approach it with joy and much prayer… and maybe a second cup of coffee mid-point of the day! As the afternoon comes to a close and our brains are quite full, we reach for the basketful of books.

One of the books I chose for our few weeks of transition is called, A Child’s Calendar by author John Updike and illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman. On each double page spread, Hyman’s illustrations so beautifully capture the uniqueness of each month and the story of one family’s life throughout the year. Her portraits of life detail the intricacies of life at home, whether its a glass jar and trinkets on a window ledge, or the inquisitive expressions of children and animals captured in a moment of time. Likewise, the poetry of John Updike for each month of the calendar year, evoke the feelings of festivity and tradition as he thoughtfully places each word in sequence to portray the essence of each month in the ordinary life of this ordinary family.

But the very best reason I love and adore this collection of poems is because of you all. One day, as I remember correctly, all snuggled on the couch to read, I accidentally overemphasized the wrong word which resulted in uncontrollable fits of laughter that continue to this day, whenever that page is read. That accidental reading has also resulted in very dramatic readings and spontaneous interpretations that provide for great hilarity every few minutes.

And this is why, at the close of a long, good, fun, or challenging day, I reach for the Basketful of Books. It is here where our minds can rest, relax and wander into wonder and imagination.

Tea Time

The small wooden cart was rolled in from the kitchen and we all gathered eagerly around it. It had been an arduous afternoon of work on the hillside as several of us tried to cut down thorn bushes in an attempt to landscape a gentle slope near a staff person’s chalet.  At last… it was tea time! We made our way up to the main chalet of our temporary home, L’Abri, in Switzerland. Tired, weary, and feeling a little poked over from all the thorns, my husband and I were ready for a rest, some good conversation, and a little reprieve as we enjoyed a cup of tea and some biscuits. This was tea time. And it made its way into our hearts.

As my first babies grew into toddlerhood, we started a tradition of “making foam”, our version of steamed milk with honey, or hot cocoa! Especially in the Fall and Winter months, after naps and playing outside, we would come in from the cold to warm up our hands and our noses. I would start up our “foam machine” and get out the cups and saucers. Somehow, this just became routine, an every day liturgy with my children. This was our “tea time.”

Fast forward a few years later, with four little ones running around my ankles, filling my days with dimpled smiles, contagious laughter, dry erase boards, flashcards, math lessons and storybooks, we haven’t kept up this tradition quite as much! Oh of course, we always had snack time and milk, but with the busyness of our home, I had forgotten the earlier days of this set apart event. It was time to create space in our day to gather around the table with a warm mug of something yummy, instead of rushing out the door to the playground with granola bars in our pockets and a quick sip of milk before we all ran outside! Of course, there are seasons for that too!

The time honored traditions of gathering around cups of warm coffee or tea have been since ancient times. This was a way to build community and share about the news of the day in many cultures around the world.

This is a new season of motherhood for me as our home expands to include more children and as they enter the next stages of childhood. With my daughter turning 7 this year and my eldest son turning 5, we are having deeper conversations about the why’s of life. These discussions take time and thought. I can’t just answer a question with one sentence anymore. I need to think about the Biblical and philosophical implications of what I’m saying and how to communicate it at their level. Now is the season of turning those little tea parties with tin cups and saucers (which are so well loved and dented after years of play – how did time fly by so fast?) into a daily time of discussion, a coming away from the routine of school and chores, to rest and reflect, with a cup of warm tea and biscuits.

In her article, Tea and Liturgy, Sandra McCracken writes, “…tea, in its proper form, can be a kind of spiritual liturgy as well. Bringing the water to a full boil, setting out the china, the cups and saucers, tiny silver spoons, whole milk, honey, and often biscuits or cookies is important just because it is beautiful and good to do so. It slows me down. Clears my head. It makes space for thought and conversation right there in the middle of a busy day.” Arthouse America

I want my children to grow up with this tradition, to weave it into the fabric of who they are. I want it to become habit for me, that when three o’clock rolls around, we put our books and school work away, and instinctively start to boil the water and place the china with anticipation of conversation and treasured moments.

“As the water boils and the afternoon sun calls out the evening shadows, a new space opens up for us to listen to each other, and to meditate on less urgent but more significant matters. As we wait for the tea to steep, the unspoken, dried out thoughts within us are now able to expand like the leaves in the warm water.”
-Sandra McCracken, Arthouse America