Out of the Pain, We Rise

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. 3If anyone thinks they are something when they are not, they deceive themselves. 4Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else,”

You reap what you sow, you sow what you reap. I read recently in an article that when choose actions now that will help us in the future we’re really showing compassion for our future self. So if you choose to do something hard, unpleasant, or tedious today that will make tomorrow or the next day a lot better, you are saying to your future self, “Hey, I care about you.” When I get up in the morning I say to myself “I care enough about my future to choose the hard thing now so that down the road I’ll be sick less, have less stress, and feel good about my body.” The temporary pain provides long-term benefits. But you have to choose the hard, the uphill battle, and the pain over and over again until finally you sit back on your deck and sip some lemonade and say “It’s good.”

Right after my Mom died it was hard to see a future. Logically I knew that tomorrow would come, and the next month, years and so forth. But I had to make my life from scratch, and everyone knows those pre-made cake boxes are darn easy to throw together and using high-quality ingredients is expensive and hard to find. My first bite of cake at the shop where I work ruined convenience and cheapness for all other desserts for me. Seeing the behind the scenes of a bakery made me realize just how incredibly difficult it is to make a beautiful cake. One single cake takes at least three people: One to make the frosting and batter ahead of time, the baker mixing, baking, being covered in batter and then depanning. And then the froster has to over it several coats of frosting and has to drag a spatula across to make it surface.  and that’s only half of it.  Don’t try to make your life over from scratch by yourself. If a cake takes a team, then your heart takes a team.

Your batter makes the cake, so make good batter. That’s it. You reap what you sow.

And yes, the relationship between what you put in and the results you see is murkier and more of a “grey” area than we like. Don’t. Give. Up.

“Broken people, we can be made whole, we can be made whole.”

The Brilliance, Will We Ever Rise

Can you live without comparing yourself to others? Can you live and let others carry your burdens with you? Life is much, much sweeter when you get to share it with other people. At my work we have a 10 gallon bucket that collects all of the espresso machine’s runoff. This includes cake crumbs, coffee grounds, syrup, and stale shots. We call it the “sludge” bucket. At the end of the night, it’s our job to make sure this bucket gets emptied into the mop closet sink. We made so many drinks one day that the bucket was practically overflowing with brown sludge. It was too heavy for one person to carry it without spilling this lovely concoction all over the floor. Me and my coworker had to carry it together. Don’t try to dump the sludge bucket of your life by yourself. Don’t wait until it’s too full for you to carry. Don’t pretend ugly brokenness isn’t inside of you. We need each other.

Back to lemonade on the porch. It’s sunny and your arms are streaked with dirt from working in the garden. You look over to see your most beloved grandparent, your best friend, or the love of your life.The struggle is over. Beauty is inside of you and outside of you. Plant good things.

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A dessert shop taught me how to grieve

Today I woke up stronger and better and healthier than I have been in years. and I cried. Because life is still really hard. I thought if I just find a way to make the good days outnumber the bad days. If I finally committed to a workout routine and started seeing results. If I had a job that I liked and liked the people I worked with. If I found a husband who loves me and I genuinely enjoy spending time with. If I wrote a poem and thought it was beautiful then I would be fine.If I faced my grief instead of running from it, I would be ok.

But all I can think is, “I wish I could tell her how well I’m doing.”

and I can’t.

Isn’t that what you do? You call your Mom on the bad days and she tells you that no, you shouldn’t cook raw chicken in the microwave, only thaw it. She’ll tell you that if you keep crying you’ll get too upset and to just put a cold washcloth on your forehead and take a nap. Or sit on the toilet or something. You call your Mom on the good days too. If you do something right, she brags about you to other people. She doesn’t shut up about you, because she raised you and by some miracle she likes hanging out with adult you.

and just when you’re starting to step into the next chapter entitled “You can actually be friends with your Mom now.” You turn the page and it says “To be continued.”and you know it’s going to be a long, long time before you get an answer. and it’s not going to be here.

I wish it was here.

You’d think seeing daughters spending time with their Moms makes me sad, but it really doesn’t. There is a Mom and daughter who come into the shop where I work and get a sugar cookie and a cupcake every Monday night. and it makes me really, really happy. Cause they get it, it’s the here, it’s the now. It’s the ritual of a Monday night. They know that the secret isn’t quality time vs. quantity of time. It’s just constantly choosing to be together over and over and over so that when that time runs out (and you never really know when it will) you have bouquet of memories to dry in the pages of old books and hang on your wall with just a hint of fragrance left to them. We’d trade them for flowers in a heartbeat. But at least we have petals to scatter across the waters of our sorrows.

My Mom, Dad, and brother were in a car accident on a really rainy day on the freeway about three years before she died of cancer. I hated that car accident so much. I didn’t like seeing my brother in a hospital bed (even though it wasn’t serious), and I really, really hated seeing my Mom standing beside him with only one earring on. When I pointed out to her that her other earring was missing she didn’t even realize that she’d lost it. I loathed the whole experience. I did not enjoy being reminded that at any moment your whole life can change and just how quickly it can happen. Nothing was taken from me that day, instead I was given a reprieve, a gentle nudge to hold my loved ones closer. I was so grateful I had hugged each of them before they had left and said “I love you!” to each of them. In the following years I made sure to give each of my family members a hug and to say “I love you” any time we said goodbye. I was given divine homework, and like any good student I took it seriously.

“I guess we’re all one phone call

From our knees.”

Mat Kearney

We’ve all been given divine homework. Nobody is getting graded, and there’s no clear deadline. I’m not just talking about good works or kind words or buying a strangers coffee (these are all really, really good things though) I’m talking the hard, the hate, the heartbreaking, backbreaking thorn-in-my-flesh, I must fight this with God by my side or else I will fail challenges that we face. We don’t have to chase it, or search for it, it somehow finds us.  It often doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and the emotions run deeper and clearer than a frozen river.

So yes, a dessert shop taught me to grieve, because day after day I see friends meeting friends for coffee and cake. I see families lighting birthday candles, their faces lit by the glow. I put together a box of sugar cookies for a lady who has just received the call that yes, she does have breast cancer. And she has no idea what she’ll be fighting. The pink curtains of the front window are pulled back and for a moment you can see a glimpse into heaven. A cupcake can’t really fix anything, but the kindness and the joy surrounding it remind me that the darkness can be fought. What battle are you on the front lines of? If the curtain is pulled back and you saw what Jesus saw, what would your divine homework be? 

“And afterward, I will pour out my spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.”

Joel 2:28

Christmas is Waiting

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Sisters. “You’ll tell me if a car starts coming down the road, right?”

Writing is incredibly difficult for me this morning. It’s not difficult because there’s nothing to write about, rather, that the entire world around is demanding that I document it. The soft plush of memory foam slippers and the whistle of the hot water heater. A love-note written on a paper towel with a permanent marker that stained the kitchen counter. Swirling latte art reminiscent of poinsettias and cinnamon leaves.

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And each cinnamon freckle in the foam/ reminded me of those wishing for home

I hope that each of you get the opportunity to feel this way too: that life is bursting at the seams. I hope you light up these dark winter days with Christmas lights and sleep in a little. I hope the grey and blue skies invite you to consider someone who made them. I hope you stop asking “Who am I?” and instead embrace who you are becoming.

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The picture that would be on our Christmas card if we sent out Christmas cards.

I heard recently that marriage is less about marrying someone for who they are, and more about who that person will be and how they will morph and shift year after year. I believe God feels the same way about us – he invests in us regardless of our current or past states. His love and investment is not hinged upon our actions or devotion. The same ombre skies greet the sinner and the saint (though, we really are all a combo of the two).

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“A waiting person is a patient person. the word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us.” -Henri J.M. Nouwen

 

I’m a waiting person today. Waiting for Christmas morning, presents underneath the tree (yes, I’m 23) to figure out “What’s next” as far as employment goes, and I’m still waiting to see things be healed and repaired and I’m not sure if I’ll see it in 2016. That’s alright, I’m a patient person. Patient to a fault. When it becomes a fault, that means I’m just stubborn. What does it mean to live out the situation to the full? How do I believe in what’s to come, when the present is very urgent?

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, spent his last Christmas imprisoned by Nazis and separated from his family (read more here if you’re interested: Bonhoeffer’s Last Advent). Although he waffled between hope and despair, he ultimately knew that Jesus held his identity and that he belonged to a cause and person larger than the four walls of his cell.

“We simply have to wait and wait,” he wrote. “The celebration of Advent is possible only to those troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come.” -Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I wouldn’t wish for anyone to be “troubled in soul” this Christmas season but if you find yourself there, know that something greater is to come. There’s only so much time, and these dark winter days remind us of the weaning daylight we have. Perhaps cancer has stolen or is stealing your loved one. Your holidays feel like a robber has come and taken your memories and left the one thing you didn’t really care about: possessions.

Someday the thief won’t be able to steal. Your tears won’t fall anymore. God will be with us.

The sun will no more be your light by day,
    nor will the brightness of the moon shine on you,
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
    and your God will be your glory.
20 Your sun will never set again,
    and your moon will wane no more;
the Lord will be your everlasting light,
    and your days of sorrow will end.

Isaiah 60:19-20 NIV

How are you bringing light to the darkness this Christmas season?

 

-K