Bowen Island, May 2010

Two of the great griefs of my life surround a love and church. It’s no surprise really, being that they’re two of the great investments offered us. Over five years a staggering amount of loss overtook, what I had considered, a mountainous faith. Chip by chip the magnanimity I once lived with came to a thunderous fall. I’ve been making my way back, slowly, since then. Through prayer. Writing. Counseling. Conversations. Hitting my head against the wall. Catching glimpses of light. There’s only so much you can do. 

That’s why two consecutive days, a couple of weeks ago, so much caught me by surprise and stumbled me over into a stream of forgotten grace. Questions I’ve been asking for years were answered on the spot.

It began on a Thursday. 

A friend from Ontario and his girlfriend came over to have coffee in the morning, then Madeleine and I stepped out of the house to have lunch with an old friend in Stamp’s Landing. Hugs, smiles and laughter were exchanged as he was introduced to our little girl for the first time. I sat back and basked in his recounting of the past year — new girlfriend, good job, church investment — taking note of his words:

“I’m happy. [Pause] It’s a weighty happiness. There’s a weight to it.”

As our meals arrived, (mine, a bed of spinach topped with candied salmon, and his, a prime rib burger,) he invited us to prayer. A beautiful, accomplished, to-the-nines man praying at waterfront hotspot, aloud. 

“Thank you God for friends, and for new life. Bless this meal…”

Bless. Bless. Bless.

Two broken people. A boy. A girl. A rambunctious toddler between. And hope spilling everywhere. You see, around the same time this friend and I found ourselves in a desert place in our hearts. Tired. Confused. Hurting. Deeply guilt-ridden. Longing. Here he is in a new place, with a fresh, beautiful posture of peace. Surrounded by friends, forging new faith in similar terrain — in a church not unlike the one in his old city. He didn’t give up. He hasn’t. And the spirit of God is blessing his open heart.

Bless. Bless. Bless.

There may have only been a crack but it was all He needed. You can see the joy in my friend’s eyes. Peace. Not striving. Contentment with hope. Dreams for the future. Promise. This is what a God-man looks like.

I am reminded: the church is beautiful.

I leave aflourish.

The same afternoon I spend an hour with half of an inspiring couple of artists training in Vancouver to return to Germany to establish a community arts centre in an old brick factory once used by Nazis during WWII. Light bursting out of the dark and broken. Their synergy is palpable. Their centre, obvious: Christ their hope, beginner and finisher of their faith.

Yes, I am reminded: the mission is beautiful. 

I come home and kiss my husband. Yes. We will see with the same light. 

Yes, marriage is beautiful.

Bless. Bless. Bless. 

Finally, the next day. I decide early to spend the afternoon in Sapperton, New Westminster. I go to meet my girlfriend who’s the new manager at the local java watering hole — Starbucks. We visit. Then I walk. Only to return to share a coffee with my mom. Halfway through our visit a woman with a daughter similarly aged to Madeleine walks in. My mom recognizes her/befriends her. Names and hugs were exchanged. 

This person is a tie to my past. Unbeknownst to my mom who continues the conversation for close to fifteen minutes. This is the girl I’d want to hate. The end. The one. The chapter-ender. A love torn like vellum, scattered on icy winds near Larch Street with no resolve, and ended in her arms. 

As her butter words spilled out, all jealousy, all fear, fled like a sparrow. My heart melted in an instant. 

“Yes, I’d like to meet your daughter. Yes, motherhood is the greatest experience in the world.” Yes. Yes. 

Bless. Bless. Bless.

I wanted to wrap her in my arms. Wanted to stroll away, our babies quietly bundled, and talk with her until the words ran out. I hoped the joy in my eyes made its way home in her arms. To him.

Yes, I am reminded: love is beautiful.

I am lying on wings. I am unwrapped. I am ready. 

Yes.

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I thank Brad Roberts for my new theme song — And It’s Beautiful — from Crash Test Dummies’ new album, OOoh, La La, released this week.

“What if the mightiest word is love?”

- Elizabeth Alexander, Praise Song for the Day

Her fingers wrap around mine like a chord. Limbs darting up to tug at my linen, cotton billows, reaching out to declare: “You are mine.” Tenacious, yet layered with a heart like cream, Madeleine steals frames from faces in an instant. Translucent glass beads scattered about the floor save her from topples as she devours them with her finger folds. Snowy flesh. She is sitting better and better every day. At dawn each morning Daddy awakes to spend sleepy hours with her while I try and catch up from night waking. Enfolding one another in the day’s first light. This is our love.

“One Voice” by Calgary artist Connie Gibbens. Read her artist’s statement, where she describes her Circles theme, here. 

“We love wherever we can love, and the power of that love spreads until the circumference of the circle of love grows wider and wider. At least that has been my own experience, even though I know to my rue that the circumference of my love is still much too small.” 

- Madeleine L’Engle, The Irrational Season

We welcomed Madeleine Jacoba Hope on September 2 at 9:15 AM.

9 lbs 11 oz. 72 hours of labour. Mom and baby are happy and healthy. Daddy says: “God help fathers of daughters.”

We are in love.

Softly now, you’re breaking my heart…

Grafton Bay, Bowen Island, last Friday evening 

My nephew Jesse Fin

This photo brought me to tears today. I miss this little man. I miss my family.

I had the opportunity to share my thoughts on marriage on the Listen Up blog today.

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A few weeks ago I read author Brennan Manning on needing proof of God.  He sure doesn’t let us off the hook and I found his directness particularly refreshing:

“Trust that is at the mercy of the response it receives is a bogus trust. All is uncertainty and anxiety. All is precarious.

In trembling insecurity the believer pleads for and even demands tangible reassurances from the Lord that his affection be returned. If he does not receive them, he is disheartened, frustrated, maybe even convinced that it’s all over or that it never really existed…

What the sincere Christian has not learned is that tangible reassurances, however valuable they may be, cannot create trust, sustain it, or provide any certainty of its presence.”

Particularly, in light of marriage, I welcome Manning’s view.

Himself, a retired Catholic priest now married, Manning has lived in fidelity to God, first, and his wife, second.

I think this is the perfect example for marriage.

I often reflect on how without my understanding of fidelity to the unseen - to God - I would be at a loss pursuing emotional and physical fidelity to my spouse. Only a year-and-a-half into marriage and I experience our commitment to each other as a daily choice to love, a choice, not an emotion, and ultimately love rests in trust.

Trust is only true if it lacks circumstance. From Manning’s view, if I require endless reassurances of God’s love for me, I will be the same with my husband, and it is not a true love but rather an affection lacking trust. This kind of insecurity on either of our parts will wrestle our relationship to the ground. And it does, with frequency.

The Bible says “Perfect love casts out fear.”

To live in love, to nurture our marriages, we must trust each other with abandon. We can’t hold back. I must look into my lover’s eyes and confess: “I am yours, body and soul, in sickness and health, in hardship and good times.” I must grab him in my most miserable moments and declare my love.

It’s counter to one part of our nature and life-giving to another, nourishing the spirit and annihilating selfishness. It feels backward in the moment but slowly, over time, it will become a new habit, a new way of being.

It’s the way I want to live.

button, handmade with love at the regional assembly of text’s button making station

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive.  And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

–  Harold Whitman