Sunday, December 10, 2017

Red Sea Road

Growing up, one of my favorite stories from the Bible was that of the Israelites being led out of Egypt.  In high school, I would lay in bed at night and recount the stories of God's faithfulness to his people to reassure myself when things seemed impossible.  I think it's important to continually remind one another of the ways in which God has been faithful.  For that reason, I'd like to share this story with you...

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When I was 36, I found my life crumbling around me.  I had spent nearly half of my life pouring my whole self into a marriage that was now ending.  This was clearly not in my plan.  I was devastated that my children would be children of divorce, heartbroken to be relegated to what felt like a fragmented family.  Our pastor at church often spoke of shalom - the Jewish concept of peace and wholeness.  I wanted to believe that shalom was possible for me, but I couldn't see a way forward, couldn't muster the faith to envision a future that would bring shalom to myself and my children.  During that very difficult season, I pictured myself on a lazy river, being carried along by the love and support of the friends and family who gathered around me.  These people were the hands and feet of Christ to me when I desperately needed God to take a tangible form in my life.  It is no small thing to be well loved during difficult seasons.

Several months later, one friend who always seemed to know just what I needed sent me a song and reminded me yet again that she was praying for me and confident that good things were coming my way.  The song was Red Sea Road by Ellie Holcomb.  As I listened to the lyrics that told the familiar story of God's faithfulness, I sat on my bathroom floor wracked with sobs.  It touched a place deep inside of me that I recognized as hope.  I hadn't dared to hope in quite a while, too scared that I would be let down again.  I was afraid to trust God fully, because I still couldn't believe that shalom was possible for me.  I decided that this song would be the theme song of this season of my life.  The waiting and hoping season.

We will sing to our souls, we won't bury our hope
Where he leads us to go, there's a Red Sea Road
When we can't see the way, he will part the waves
And we'll never walk alone down a Red Sea Road

Two weeks later, I met the man I will soon marry.  A girlfriend and I were at a concert for galentines and asked to sit next to him so we could share his heater.  He had a long beard.  He was a drummer with a band out of Nashville I had never heard of - Drew Holcomb and the Neighbors.  I asked if Drew was any relation to Ellie Holcomb, and he told me they were husband and wife.  He sometimes played for Ellie.  I wasn't trying to date anyone, he was moving away to Nashville.  I didn't think anything would come of this chance meeting under a heater.  My friend and I closed the place down talking to this friendly man with a long beard.  Before we left, we all exchanged numbers so we could try to hang out again before he moved to Nashville.

Jonathan and I ended up hanging out the next day, and the next, and the next.  We were instant friends, spending hours talking about all of the most important things in life.  Complete honesty came easily, in part because we both knew we couldn't have a real relationship with his impending move, and in part because Jonathan is nothing if not genuine.  He played a women's retreat with Ellie and brought me a signed copy of her Red Sea Road album.  He eventually met my children, introduced as "Mama's friend who plays the drums and is moving to Nashville."  I fell in love with Jonathan quite by accident and very quickly.  My children took to him just as swiftly, leaning into his trustworthy kindness.  I couldn't see a way forward for us.  I prayed we would find a Red Sea Road.


Fast forward through several months of spending time with friends and family and more honest conversations than I've ever had in my life.  I drove to pick Jonathan up from a show so that we could travel to the next show over my Thanksgiving break.  When I arrived, I finally got to meet Ellie!  She and their children were touring with Drew for the end of the Willie Nelson tour.  It was so special to meet the woman who sang the song that restored my hope in a future I couldn't yet imagine.


A couple of days later, Jonathan and I had dinner at an amazing restaurant in San Antonio.  We moved to the patio for dessert and coffee and were seated right next to a heater.  And, as it turned out, right on the other side of the window from Drew and Ellie, who happened to be having dinner at the same restaurant.  After ordering the only gluten free dessert on the menu (which I later learned was put there especially for me by the chef upon request from Jonathan!), Jonathan took a knee and proposed with my grandmother's ring.  It could not have been more wonderful.  While I hugged him and cried, the Holcombs came out to congratulate us (they even surprised us by picking up the check on the way out!).  That part wasn't planned like all of the other perfect details Jonathan had put in place for that special evening, but having Ellie there to witness the waters parting for me was the perfect bookend to the story.


It was a fairly tale night after what has felt like fairy tale romance.  This fairy tale is a little unorthodox, as the princess in this story already has three little heirs in tow.  It's not simple or easy to create a new family out of the ashes of a former family.  But that's what has happened before my very eyes.  I have found my shalom.  And while I no longer believe in fairy tales where things are as simple as "happily ever after," I do believe in a God who makes a way where there was no way.  Soon, I will walk down the aisle to the love of my life.  And that aisle will be my Red Sea Road.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Ready As You Go

Related image

Hands-down, my favorite movie scene of all time is the above scene from Nanny McPhee.  This scene makes me cry every time.  I sob.  If you haven't seen it, this scene is an impromptu wedding between two people who finally admitted to themselves - and to each other - that they were in love. The last-minute bride begins her walk down the aisle dressed in her scullery maid uniform.  She turns to Nanny McPhee at her side and says, "I don't look much like a bride, do I?"  Nanny McPhee replies, "You will."

Suddenly, the snow that has just begun - in August - covers Evangeline in a gown and veil as white as, well, snow.  She is transformed as she walks toward her love.  It is absolutely magical.

I love this scene for many reasons, but here is why this scene makes me cry every time.

1) Everything is set right in this moment.  Being someone who loves happy endings, I am always overcome with emotion when I see things made right.  In Frozen, when Elsa realizes that love will thaw the never-ending winter that's settled over Arendelle.  In Sense and Sensibility, when Elinor learns that Edward is not married and bursts into tears of relief and joy.  Every time that love is realized, that those who didn't feel safe finally find safety - that moment when you realize the good guy is going to win and that truth and justice will have the last word - I rejoice.  We all do.  This is what we all long for, isn't it?

2) It is TRUE.  This scene - more than any scene I can think of - professes something that I believe to be true about life.  That truth is, no one has to be ready to start walking towards her dreams; to take the risk his heart is calling him to take; to listen to the small, still voice inside herself and begin walking in the direction that voice is urging her to go.  We don't have to be ready before we start. We will be made ready as we go.  We will be transformed into our bravest, most beautiful selves as we walk in the direction of our dreams.  We see this narrative played out countless times because it's true. You won't find a story in the Bible where God calls someone who feels up to the task.  You won't find a hero on a "hero's journey" who begins that journey with full confidence that victory lies ahead.  If you did, that person would cease to be a hero.  I love it about God and about life that all we have to do is keep showing up, keep walking, keep pressing on toward truth and love and justice even when - especially when - we don't feel up to the task.  What could be more hopeful than that?  We are being transformed into who we were always meant to be.

If you don't feel ready to go where your heart is leading you, just keep walking.  You will.


Monday, January 2, 2017

Washed Ashore

"Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage"
BrenĂ© Brown

A few years back, we were on a beach vacation in Florida.  One morning I got the girls out of bed early and took them down to the beach to watch the sunrise in our pajamas.  I brought along a few bagels for breakfast and an empty pickle jar I had saved for the occasion.  We watched the ball of fire rise up from the water as we ate our bagels on the cool sand.  After the sun was up, we took the pickle jar I brought and knelt in the sand together.  I talked to the girls about the times in the Bible when something significant happened and people built altars to mark the significance of what had taken place there.  I told them that our pickle jar was to become an altar to mark the sunrise we had shared together on the beach.  We scooped up sand by the handful and made wishes as it ran between our fingers into the jar.  Then we searched for shells to place on top of the sand so we could take the memory home with us.  

As my daughters excitedly found shells for our altar, I found myself silently critiquing their selection.  I had hoped for the most beautiful shells we could find, as I planned to transfer the sand and shells to a vase to display on our mantle.  But instead, the girls brought me fragments of shells, misshapen shells.  To my dismay, my initial reaction was disappointment.  As I held out the pickle jar to collect their treasures, I realized that the problem lay within me, that my definition of beauty needed altering.  I let out a sigh as I let go of my idea of perfection and chose to instead embrace the perfection of the moment.  

Here is the shell that I found for our altar.


I laughed aloud when I found it, envisioning a youth group activity on the beach in which people write things on shells and cast them into the ocean to be rid of them.  

But here's what we know about the ocean - everything washes ashore eventually.  

I reveled in the irony of a shell that said, "Weakness."  Isn't this just like us?  Don't we, in so many ways, hurl into the ocean things that we find unacceptable, parts of ourselves of which we are ashamed, memories we'd just as soon forget, decisions we regret, things of which we wish to be free - only to look down and see those things washed up amidst the seaweed and the broken bottle pieces, once again laying at our feet? Don't we try to adorn our mantles with vases containing picture perfect shells rather than fragments?  Don't we try to seek perfection, desperately searching for things that meet our definition of beauty?

For a very long time, I tried to hurl my weaknesses into the sea, far enough that they would never wash ashore.  I tried to present only "perfect" shells to the world, until I felt like a shell of my former self.  I am done with that now.  Now I am into truth-telling.  I am into accepting shell fragments from the ones that I love, finding them perfectly imperfect and beautiful just as they are.  I am into collecting the parts of myself that would wash ashore anyway and displaying them in jars instead of casting them into the ocean.  

I think what it is is vulnerability.  BrenĂ© Brown says that is our most accurate measure of courage.  To me, it just feels like freedom.