There is nothing I like better then squishing a fully loaded bed bug. It happened this morning, just before taking the kids out to school, I saw a bug crawling ponderously over the kitchen floor. I took a piece of paper and bent down to scrape it up. Low and behold, its abdomen fully extended (blood I assumed), it was the creepiest crawly that I love to hate. So with my husband shouting "NOOOOO!!!!!" in the background, I took one of his business cards (it was the handiest thing around) and squished it dead. He wanted it captured live to show our exterminator friend. Oh well, dead as a door nail, it's still a bed bug. I slipped it into an envelope and into the freezer just in case it wanted to supernaturally rise from its splatted-ness. At least it's in the vault, I thought.
Yes, the bed bug challenge has come around again. Many months ago, and in an rented house we were so infested that every night we laid down, we knew we were to become a "living sacrifice" for these things. We were itching to get out (no pun intended), buy a home and land in it safely and undisturbed. Thank our God, it came to be. We still thank God, but ask for His grace again. We think perhaps one was brought home from the inner-city school our kids go to. But then big posh hotels have the problem too, no one is exempt. Is this a new wave of future torment, along with the recent devestating earthquakes and cyclones? World-wide bed bugs, a plague worth thinking about. Or not. I'd rather not.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Hear the Silence
Pain has a way of making sure we hear it all the time. Whether its physical or mental, it's voice is the first thing we hear in the morning (or let's make it all night!) and the last thing we hear at night. Some people manage to stuff it and get on with their day, others are immobilized, literally. Others cope by various chemical addictions, medical treatments or staying in bed,with the covers over their heads. Pain has a way of paralyzing or pushing the button that's marked "rage", or "hide" or "help me". Being through agonizing times is one thing, but with no hope of rescue, a light at the end of the proverbial tunnel is another. My Spirit Blast this weekend and healing from some of these wounds came in the form of hearing some silence, letting that silence settle deep and responding to it with trust. Christ the healer, I realize has not come to rip us apart with laws and legalize of how to live life or how to better manage our pain, but how to respond to His gentle love and presence. For me, this came in the form of skillfully threaded words, soft music
and a Christian community that acknowledges pain too. The broken came to worship and went away filled. We worshiped with wounds, not expecting instant answers but opening our pain vault to his divine presence...whatever that would mean.
Society and so often the church today has tried to tell us not to feel pain, something is wrong if we are broken and confused. In the cast room in the hospital a week ago, the doctor pointed out to my son, a vast array of colors and patterns he could pick for his cast cover (he has a broken wrist). Would that make it heal faster? Does it cut out the pain he feels when he bumps it or twists it the wrong way? A young mom in the waiting room, carrying her little son on her hip, pointed out a glowing orange leg cast one guy was sporting. "Maybe you'll get a pretty orange one like that!!" That didn't seem to make him smile and forget about his broken limb...in fact, his frown worsened. Why do we put frosting on our wounds, as if it will sweeten it up a bit or make it more palatable? I'm learning that it doesn't make a difference, what does is allowing ourselves to finally feel what we do, and realizing that Christ the healer invites us to worship him with it, cleanse ourselves in his light of love and concern and accept humbly the journey he has for us. Hearing the pain is one thing, hearing the silence that it brings us too may be the first step towards the healing we crave.
and a Christian community that acknowledges pain too. The broken came to worship and went away filled. We worshiped with wounds, not expecting instant answers but opening our pain vault to his divine presence...whatever that would mean.
Society and so often the church today has tried to tell us not to feel pain, something is wrong if we are broken and confused. In the cast room in the hospital a week ago, the doctor pointed out to my son, a vast array of colors and patterns he could pick for his cast cover (he has a broken wrist). Would that make it heal faster? Does it cut out the pain he feels when he bumps it or twists it the wrong way? A young mom in the waiting room, carrying her little son on her hip, pointed out a glowing orange leg cast one guy was sporting. "Maybe you'll get a pretty orange one like that!!" That didn't seem to make him smile and forget about his broken limb...in fact, his frown worsened. Why do we put frosting on our wounds, as if it will sweeten it up a bit or make it more palatable? I'm learning that it doesn't make a difference, what does is allowing ourselves to finally feel what we do, and realizing that Christ the healer invites us to worship him with it, cleanse ourselves in his light of love and concern and accept humbly the journey he has for us. Hearing the pain is one thing, hearing the silence that it brings us too may be the first step towards the healing we crave.
Friday, March 5, 2010
gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Jesus remember me
When you enter your kingdom
Jesus remember me
When your kingdom comes
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
"Gone is the Light" by Gord Johnson
I remember meeting Gord, through our then friend Steve Bell. Gord's guitar style was skilled and soothing, like Steve's but with a decidely different feel. He came to play at our coffee houses, we saw in him the struggle of an artist trying to make it but having to go back to his day job. Now years later, a compliation of worship music has been done by friend, Steve Bell...written by Gord. Simple and beautifully constructed and written it has been a highlight for me to learn, play and root these songs in my heart and mind. I remember a coffehouse I went to when I was pregnant with my first boy, I was sick, depressed, unreachable. Gord was playing that night and he was able to reach into that darkness, guided by God's Spirit, to the place I roiled with pain. He sat down with us at the break and he spoke into my darkness with grace, saying that his wife had been through years of depression and darkness. He knew because he had walked through it with his wife. This morning I walked through a similiar valley, it's been years of wavering between this darkness and light, depression and a clear blasting joy....and I'm tired, weary and ready to give up any sort of understanding of this heart-aching process. I know deep down the reality of Christ in me, the surrender I must give and the wait for His rescue. Gord's song is mine today..."into the darkness we must go", "Jesus remember me!", "Father forgive them". Then I wait, wait. Wait for my heart to settle, wait for His rescue. I wait.
Gone, gone is the light
Into the darkness we must go
Gone, gone is the light
Jesus remember me
When you enter your kingdom
Jesus remember me
When your kingdom comes
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
Father forgive them
They know not what they do
"Gone is the Light" by Gord Johnson
I remember meeting Gord, through our then friend Steve Bell. Gord's guitar style was skilled and soothing, like Steve's but with a decidely different feel. He came to play at our coffee houses, we saw in him the struggle of an artist trying to make it but having to go back to his day job. Now years later, a compliation of worship music has been done by friend, Steve Bell...written by Gord. Simple and beautifully constructed and written it has been a highlight for me to learn, play and root these songs in my heart and mind. I remember a coffehouse I went to when I was pregnant with my first boy, I was sick, depressed, unreachable. Gord was playing that night and he was able to reach into that darkness, guided by God's Spirit, to the place I roiled with pain. He sat down with us at the break and he spoke into my darkness with grace, saying that his wife had been through years of depression and darkness. He knew because he had walked through it with his wife. This morning I walked through a similiar valley, it's been years of wavering between this darkness and light, depression and a clear blasting joy....and I'm tired, weary and ready to give up any sort of understanding of this heart-aching process. I know deep down the reality of Christ in me, the surrender I must give and the wait for His rescue. Gord's song is mine today..."into the darkness we must go", "Jesus remember me!", "Father forgive them". Then I wait, wait. Wait for my heart to settle, wait for His rescue. I wait.
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