Turning .....

Autumn might just have arrived in Virginia. The leaves are turning heads with their golden, brassy redhead shows; urbanites have decorated their steps with a myriad of pumpkins and gourds; and the industrious squirrels are running the fences and highwires with their cheeks stuffed with acorns. There's a comfort in Autumn that extends beyond our sweaters and boots. The heady carefree days of summer holidays gives way to familiar routines and faces and we settle back into belonging. Equality arrives as we hide under oversized woolens and eat stews with Octoberfest beer and pumpkin lattes.

At this time of year the natural landscape creeps indoors and pulls up a chair. Our design and culinary palettes become infused with muted orange fillings and golden crusts with bursts of purple to remind us of His royal presence. This season is less Hallmark and more His Mark. For me, Autumn is the season when God shows off the most. Though to be fair the still-life of winter, the resurrection of spring and the glory of summer, are all pretty spectacular too, but I digress.

At the start of a new year (come on, we all know the year starts in September!) nature begins with turning, falling, harvesting and dying. The sunflowers that pointed the way to the Son now bend their heads in reverent submission. What once provided shade and shadow leaves us exposed to the elements. The land surrenders its precious crops as we shore up our storehouses for the barren months. And the chrysanthemums give us one last hoorah before disappearing into the deep blue silence of winter.

I wonder if this changing landscape can provide pointers for reflection on our inner landscape as the new year begins?
As the leaves fall .....
Like Adam and Eve in Eden, what have we kept hidden under leaves of control, pride, arrogance, striving, people-pleasing or fabulousness that we are ashamed off? What liberty would come if those leaves fell and we were metaphorically naked before God and man?

As the Harvest is gathered ....
What did we sow our time, energy and resources into earlier this year that is now ready to reap? Which relationships have borne great fruit and which yielded a poor harvest because they weren't in the right light?

As the flowers die ....
Which promises and dreams must retreat to hibernation, and which issues is it time to let fall to the ground and die? How do we still see beauty in barrenness and hope in bare twigs? Can we believe for spring?

So, when the dappled light of the low Autumn sun beckons us outside to kick the leaves and feel the cooler breeze, let's truly let the outer landscape inside.

Numbness

Did you know that if the nerve along your jaw that crosses your chin is damaged it will regrow at the rate of 1cm a month? Mad eh? It's over two months since my wisdom teeth surgery and whilst the lisp has gone, I still don't have complete feeling in my chin or lower teeth. Altogether a rather unhelpful situation. The surgeon says she's pretty sure I'll get 100% feeling back .... eventually. My wonderful chiropractor is helping with some laser acupuncture to stimulate regrowth, and regular doses of ibuprofen and a nightly hot water bottle to the jaw, will all help nature on her way. 

I've mostly got used to the weird numbness, I even find kissing The Beloved a new adventure as with each kiss I'm not sure what I'll be able to feel!

I find with most circumstances in life, there's a bigger lesson to learn if I'll open up and listen. Recently, I've started to become acutely aware of the places in my heart, mind and spirit, where I've become comfortably numb. And let's be honest, we all have them.

Some of these are spaces where we've chosen not to feel because we're hurt, offended, proud or selfish.

They can be places that we've anesthetized through drink, drugs, food, doing fabulous things with only fabulous people, or turning a blind eye.

In some of these are places the trauma is so raw or was so sudden, that the whole area is in shock. In others the wounds are so deep, our nerves are dead. 

Despite the fact that these areas create a hard, isolated, cold and sad version of oneself, where life is limited and potential squeezed; taking steps to soften, engage and defrost those spaces is a frightening prospect. After all, when you're numb you're protected, in control, deadened.

I wonder what would happen if we were open to a little healing, softening, resurrection?

You see, I don't want to live a numb life. I want to be free and able to feel the whole spectrum of emotions. I want to rejoice with those in joy and grieve with those who weep. I want to shout loudly in the face of any injustice; and to laugh till my face is like a beetroot and the tears are tripping me. Even in the spaces where I am hurting the most I want to still have it in me to be love to another.

I'm continuing to ask God to show me the places where I am (un)comfortably numb. Over time His tender love is bringing back feeling; His kind mercies are restoring sensations, and His resurrection power is surging life into dry bones.

How about coming with me to a life full of sensation?

Healing

My year of physical or rather pain endurance continues. In case you haven't heard, my back is doing great, I'm over my 4 week stomach virus and now I'm sitting writing with a hot-water bottle to my face in a vain attempt to ease the pain. Yep, toothache ... actually post-tooth extraction ache/agony. Last week I had emergency surgery to extract three wisdom teeth. Ouchies.

Talk about having your head in a vice-like grip. The last week has been a haze of drugs, salt and water mouth washes, and protein shakes (ok ... and ice-cream too!). My face rose up until my chin disappeared and The Beloved renamed me Alvin. Thankfully my chin has returned, but I now have a lisp, thanks to my still numb jaw, and some very attractive bruising which is drawing stares of pity when I venture to the pharmacy.

I'm so ready to be better! I've things to be doing, people to see, places to visit! These things all seem so much more important than taking the time to heal. I seem to have taken on the "C'mon hurry up!" approach to healing; demanding that it happens quickly so I can get on with life.

I wonder what would happen if I cut myself some slack and allowed me time to heal? What if I took time to rest, to be peaceful, to be kind and gentle to me?

None of us like to suffer, we want the pain over quickly. But sometimes life gives us aches which linger. The unrealized dreams, the broken promises, the fragmented relationships, the loss of a beloved ... insert your wound of choice.  These don't heal with a week of pills. The pain just keeps on going. Oh, you learn to bury the source and you can function very well in everyday life; until something or someone pulls of the scab.

I tend to get angry with myself when the bleeding restarts. There's this internal dialogue that says I'm supposed to be over that; I'm supposed to be full of grace, compassion and love, not bitterness, anger and resentment; I'm supposed to be healed.  This dialogue only succeeds in making me bleed more.

I think I'm starting to learn that it's ok to show myself mercy and grace. If I need space to grieve when the scab comes off, that's ok. It doesn't make me an awful person nor will I lose my testimony if I need some time to weep. If I need to rest and be peaceful, if I need to take time to myself with the Great Physician, remove myself from situations that are pressing on my wounds, that's ok.

So, if you don't mind, I'm going to give myself some time to heal ....

Seeds

In case you don't know, I love a spot of gardening. Well planting actually.  No heavy digging or creating water features, just poddling about with seeds, plugs and plants. Thanks to the fabulous Virginian spring weather - sun, heat and recent rains - my lettuce, herbs and sweet pea have taken off. Filling big pots will peppary rocket (that's arugula to my American friends!); tumbling lemon thyme over a weather cracked strawberry jug and tangling, spindly sweet pea arms around wrought iron trellis, is no problem to these tiny seeds. How do they do it?!

Some of their seeds are so small it's a labour of love to sow them in a row - a scatter-gun approach would be much easier on the old back. Sweet pea seeds are bigger - pea sized funnily enough - and easier to strategically sow, but even then you still need to re-locate the wee mites so they've a fighting chance of finding something you'd like them to cling on to. Bulbs, on the other hand, are definitely easier to plant - you just have to put them in at the right depth - but once they've displayed their wares you have to be patient as their stems and leaves die down returning nutrients to the bulb for next year's glory.

There's something captivating about watching a seed or a bulb bring forth a plant with fruit or veg or flowers. All the potential for growth resides in these little pods just waiting for just the right conditions and time. Brilliant.

I've been thinking about how there are seeds of dreams, desires and talent in us. We've dreams that imperceptible - we don't even know they're there yet, and these can spring up where we least expect them. You just have to watch that they're flowers and not weeds! Other desires are bigger, we probably can't remember a time when they weren't part of us and some of these have already brought forth beautiful blooms and tender fruit. We've talents that are foundational to who we are but like the bulbs we have seasons when they're on show and seasons when they turn ugly and go into hiding.

Some seeds are dormant because it's not yet time.

It dawned on me recently that I've spent a lot of time worrying about when the dormant ones will appear; concerned that perhaps those seeds are defective and dead. While the whole time there has been a beautiful garden full of character, strength, compassion and grace, being lovingly tended by The Gardener. He has rained mercy on me, feed me in goodness and kindness, pruned me when needed and delighted over the glorious floral displays.

He is making beautiful things out of the dust and ALL things will bear blooms and an abundant harvest at exactly the right time. So, The Gardener invites us to wander with Him in the cool of the day, as He shows us what He has planted and uprooted in our lives. And He implores us to celebrate the Garden that we are now and rest in the assurance that He brings all things to completion.

Now, go smell some roses!

Disruption

Spring has sprung in Virginia - the glory of the blossom has been replaced by the dogwoods and tulips. The weather is warm but you still need a jacket and the bright red Cardinal birds have returned to serenade us in the mornings. We shake from our wintery sedentary existence and wander the cobbled streets of Old Town, marveling how the higgled-piggled, coloured houses reflect the sun and the flowers in their window boxes.

How do those tulips push through the soil after the dormant winter? All that's required to produce a bright, red and orange trumpet hides in a bulb and then, right on time with all the others, bursts forth. Amazing. Tis' mystery all.

Now, it's Good Friday and I probably should be writing about Christ's setting aside of himself to suffer and die on our behalf. Telling you that forgiveness always has to cost someone, something; and that we all have to make some response to this Jesus' self-less act.

But Lisa, it's a lovely day, I hear you cry, some of us are on holiday for a few days, away with you and these morbid thoughts of death, sure Easter is coming on Sunday and we'll all be happy again.

It's so typical of Jesus - the master of the Art of Disruption. He's always leading people to do the unseemly; always keeping people guessing; always asking the impossible of his followers. He's always healing and loving in unusual ways, in untimely, unusual places. In His love He pursues, instigates and agitates....us.

So, what are you going to do with Jesus? How is He pursuing you? How has he instigated relationship with you? How has He got under your skin?

This Good Friday, full of sorrow and spring-time joy; turn your face to One who thought enough of you to choose the Disrupted Route to glory.

Ashes

I'm now off the sofa and way more mobile than when I last mused here. The back does get tired so Lisa's Lateral Life (nod to Hayley D for that one!!) isn't completely over, but the end is in sight. So in celebration of my new mobility the Beloved and I headed to the Newseum. The clue to this mecca's focus is in the name - it's all about the news.

There is a Pulitzer Prize photograph gallery where award-winning images capture and reflect humanity. The vast majority of these photos are taken during war, catastrophe and tragedy. It's not a pretty sight. It was soul marring and spirit invading.

I reeled from one image in particular and I can't even remember where or when it was taken, somewhere in Africa is the best I can do. Anyway, it was of a crouching man, an alleged spy, who had been viciously beaten and set alight. As his body flamed an attacker was plunging a machete into his skull.

I was totally speechless and repulsed; it was a vomit inducing, terror producing, heart-breaking glimpse at man's capability. I had no idea what to do with it. Christ have mercy...

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, a time of self-reflection and preparation for Easter. In churches all over the world people will receive the imposition of ashes as an outward reminder that we are but dust and to dust we will return. The man who was beaten, burnt and macheted to death became ashes, but so will his assailant. The poor and the powerful, the broken and the joyful, the unlovely and the loved; are all dust.

After the Newseum I needed to be around beauty to balance the horror. In the National Gallery of Art it was fitting that I found it in an exhibition of Picasso's Drawings. A tortured soul who produced such beauty. When all is stripped away, we humans are all the same. All have this capacity for loving and hurting, torturing and comforting, selfish delight and selfless sacrifice. I guess it's about seeking, by the grace and mercy of God, to live out of our beauty rather than our torture.

Isaiah 61 v3 reminds us that the Lord will bestow on us on "a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair". We may all be but dust but we're preparing for Easter! Out of death will come resurrection and life eternal, the ashes are not the end.

So this Lent, go ahead and give up chocolate and booze, TV and Facebook; but how about each day wearing a garment of praise, pouring out the oil of gladness and trying to bring beauty where there are only ashes. What a headline that would be in the Newseum!

Healing?

So, I'm laid up. This is my second week of chiropractic treatment for two bulging discs in my lower back - ouchie. Twice a week I ride the Fairfax Bronco to extend and reposition my discs. In-between I'm only allowed to stand or lie down - I'm forbidden to sit for more than 15 minutes. I now envy you sitting people - on the metro, in cars, in coffee shops and restaurants. Typing and writing lying down are my new skills; I must remember to update my CV.

This is an age old back story - years of bending over a field hockey stick, a fall on the stairs in 2000 and a near-death experience car accident in 2008. Dear knows how long these discs have been bulging, putting pressure on my sciatic nerve. Certainly since the accident in '08 I have only been able to sleep on my left side. Now it's early 2012 - how come it has taken me 3 and a bit years to do anything about it?

I blame sensory adaption. Or maybe a pessimistic resignation that I was always going to be that way. It's just how it is.

Yet, if 2012 is the year when I must decrease and He, Jesus, must increase, then all of me is up for grabs to be changed. The bent things will be straightened out; the pain and numbness will be replaced with freedom and sensitivity; the wounded bits that press on the raw nerves in my life will be bound-up and healed. He will make ALL things new.

When we say "increase in me Lord", He takes us at our word. Often the circumstances that come our way after uttering such wild desires take us to the end of ourselves. And it is there He stands and calls us by name to get out of the boat and walk on the water, imploring us to trust that He is faithful and good.

What pain and numbness have you in your life that you've adapted to accept as a done deal? Psalm 147 v3 tells us that God "heals the broken-hearted and bind up their wounds". The healing process isn't pleasant and He's often in no rush, but the end result will be beautiful.

Suped-up

So, how are the New Year's Resolutions going? Sometimes nothing more than a to-do list for the first week of January, New Year's Resolutions are easy to make and easy to break. I looked back over my blog and last year I had 'intentions' rather than resolutions. I intended to embrace every opportunity that came my way in 2011 and be kind to people as a precursor to love.

So, for 2012, I'm not changing my intentions, they're just going to be suped up.

There'll be no 'keeping-this-for-a-special-occasion'. With freedom I will wallow in spa bath oils in our huge jacuzzi tub; post-detox the best wine will be served on a Wednesday night; all the UK chocolate will be nibbled with pleasure on daily, sometimes hourly, basis; and those beautiful cards will be sent just to say Hello! There will be no hoarding in 2012. There'll be no waiting till tomorrow to show compassion, share an encouraging word or tell anyone I love them - especially the Beloved. Every opportunity will be grasped with abandon and decorated with fabulous jewellery!

I'm still going to seek to be kind, but this year, I must decrease and He, Jesus, must increase. Then love becomes my currency of choice. Oh, that 2012 would be the year that my sought after accolade of 'indiscriminate lover' would be reached.

We all know we get one stab at life, it's not just a run-through. So let's fly 2012 like we stole it - with squealing delight and loving abandon.