a hug

So my husband is speaking at a camp next month. His theme is grace and his talk, from what I've heard so far, is going to rock some little junior high hearts. 
This opportunity has led to some awesome discussions within the small walls of our apartment concerning the vast, reaching & astonishing doctrines of grace. These discussions/debates & deep probings of our minds produced a new thought on grace that I have found truth & comfort in & would like now to share it with you.

Quoting  a scholar, someone who certainly knows what they are talking about, Bryce read a passage that remarked upon grace as a "gift," one that we do not deserve & that cannot be paid back. Well, I don't like that idea, but then, I don't think many of us like the thought of getting something we are unworthy of and that we can't pay back. If Ayn Rand taught me anything it's that I earn what I have and I pay for what I want. But grace doesn't work that way. That I don't deserve it but am given it anyway is the toughest aspect of grace & is often abused by people who feel entitled to it & free to carry on as they would. That's not how it works either. 
As Bryce & I discussed grace and how we experience it I thought back to the time in my life where it first became real to me. I was sitting in church about 5 years ago now, I felt doomed by decisions I had made & to a life I didn't want. I was sad, alone, hopeless & feeling unloved when our pastor began speaking on grace. I don't remember what he said exactly, but the match was lit in my mind and as the flame grew so did the light & the idea; I realized that I could change my life, make new & right decisions, run from my past and into the arms of Jesus. As I gazed into that memory I realized that for me grace has never been a gift - something I run the risk of feeling entitled to, it has always been a hug. I remember distinctly crying, feeling overwhelmed & washed over in truth, hope & grace. That moment led to a break-up, a decision to serve in junior high ministry, meeting a handsome intern, falling for him, marrying him & now he is teaching junior highers about my grace. Life, right? It's a chaotic pattern of perfection, "fearful symmetry" to quote Blake, a divine poem that overwhelms the fragment I am able to read of it even now. 

As I opened this thought I felt the truth & beauty of it. I saw it like this: When I am drenched in my sin, feeling that despair, helplessness & gripping fear in being so lost, it's as though a light turns on behind me, I feel it warm my back, I know what it means, who it is and tears run down my face as I realize that he has come for me. I turn around slowly, I see Jesus standing with his arms held out aching for me. Sometimes I run to them, other times I walk slowly but it always ends the same. I walk into the hug and his arms fold around me, my heart overflows in his love & somehow I am able to put my arms around him, where they have belonged the whole time. 

grace is a hug. I hope you have felt it & that you will feel it many, many times.

molly

church

When life is full the blog goes empty!

I've missed this place & you somehow even though we don't exactly talk here. But You were missed & that's always a nice thing to be told.

Church has been happening.

Bryce & I have become members of our church & in the journey from the class to the confirmation some pretty interesting & beautiful new thoughts have floated into my head. In a conversation I had with my dear cousin a week or so ago I told her how in being back at the church I feel like I am "getting my voice back" - the odd part is, I don't know where it went to begin with. I've struggled with regularly attending church since we were married & while we have been told that that is ever so normal I don't think the loss of self I have felt was usual. I have been wrapped up & trapped within myself unable to see what I was missing & even convinced I was happier that way. But I haven't been "happy" with who I have been for some time, until these last few weeks.

Recently, I heard a man on the radio listing off the tremendous distances that exist between the earth & other parts of our solar system. His conclusion upon listing these measurements in the billions & trillions was, "that just goes to show how insignificant we are," and this, I think, is the common reaction. It is what we hear & tell ourselves whenever we are faced with calculations measuring the grandeur of the world or our solar system. However, this time when I heard his response a deep cry welled up from within me & my heart screamed at him, "NO! Don't you see, all those huge numbers & unimaginable distances only point to HOW significant WE are!" Doesn't it count for something that we are the only creative, transformative, exploring & reasoning creature to exist in the universe? I have grown up with voices all my life teaching me that I am nothing but "dust," that I am undeserving, that I'm so small I almost don't matter. I'm wondering now if those were the voices that had taken away my own, deprived me of any feeling of action. I think they probably were. But I can't hear them anymore and I do disagree. God's love is why. I am loved, I am called to action & when I am loved so deeply I feel I can do nothing but act on it! It is the greatest feeling & one that is coursing through me, I can't wait to get into fellowship with my dear friends & soon-to-be-friends and the fact that I, Molly, just typed all those words  (one after the other) is proof of a miraculous change within myself over this past month.

I said life has been full & I don't mean with work or routine. It has just been exciting, dynamic & almost like learning how to live again. I feel like I have come home after a cold & too-long journey, the blanket is around my shoulders & the cup of hot soup in my hand. He (my Lord) is feeding me, preparing me for something that just feels like it's going to knock  my little cinderella  flats right off & my heart is leaping to see it.

molly

waiting

"I hate waiting"  - Inigo Montoya

I don't know many people that like waiting. I enjoy the tension and excitement I feel right now when I think about Harry Potter 7.2 but that's because I'm confident that it will satisfy my expectations & I pretty much know what I'm in for (i.e. so much crying). However, when it comes to waiting and not knowing what you are waiting for, well, that's what Inigo is talking about. The man in black is going to take a while & he'll eventually come to the surface but then what? Is he a good sword fighter or a bad one? Will his banter be witty or sour? Will Inigo kill him too quickly or just quickly enough? - So many questions and none of them will be answered until the man in black is ready.

I'm sure you've realized by now that I am in a waiting period myself, but then, who isn't? We are all waiting for some answer but some of them are bigger or more pressing than others. My pastor taught this week on exactly this topic and I really needed to hear it so perhaps it will help you too.  He said that "God is content to not give you all the answers," in fact, God intentionally keeps them from you. Frustrating? Yes, because I hate not having answers, not having control, not knowing. It's uncomfortable & in some moments it's scary. The obvious purpose of waiting is that it grows (*should grow) us in our faith, trust and dependence upon God. Having grown up in church I've learned that any phrase that sounds as good as that means it's actually something really tough. I get excited when I think about this  waiting phase as a place of safety where I am awaiting a masterful plan that is going to push my husband and I into a new & challenging place in our spiritual lives. That sounds great & probably means we're in for something awful, something like "change". I believe I hate change far more than I hate waiting. So I am stuck, yes? Well, no, not quite. I've been realizing that in waiting there is a correct and an incorrect way to wait. I go  between them on a seemingly daily basis but I am really trying and learning to do it the right way. I'm finding comfort and peace in this silent place of God's will. He's told me to wait here and I am obeying, that's very good and I am happy in that. I'm trying not to "hate waiting" so much, but like Inigo I like to have a plan. But my plans have been falling away (remember that thesis thing?) & God's desire for me to wait is taking hold. In the end there probably isn't a six-fingered man waiting to be killed by me (as no one would take me seriously, shouting  "prepare to die!"), but there will be that joy that I will have if I continue to wait correctly and follow when He tells me to. 

(more to come on this "following" business at some unspecified time)

molly

michael

I just watched the most recent episode of The Office and I have tears pouring down my face. This may be one of the only times that that show has literally made me cry out of sheer sadness.. I dearly, dearly love the show and I am so sad to see Michael leave. Michael has made me laugh for years and harder than almost anyone else. At perhaps the highest point of my obsession with the show I would say to someone, "Hey, remember when Michael said (funny quote) " and I would laugh, really hard. Then whoever it was would say, "Wait, who's Michael? how do you know him?"  Me: "oh yeah, uh, I meant Michael Scott, uh from The Office,  not like a friend of mine or anything. . ." - this happened a lot. We were close & he has meant a lot to me. I love that in an awkward moment he can make me cringe to the point where I'm  covering my eyes because I don't want to see what I'm hearing -  that's how you know it's good.. I still can't watch the episode, "Phyllis' Wedding" - it's almost unendurable. But that's amazing, it's what amuses me and I love that push. Despite how much I have loved the show I really am surprised by how sad I am. I didn't know how much I loved & cherished having Michael Scott actively participating in my daily or weekly life. To quote him about how I feel right now, "It's simply beyond words. It's incalculacable". So, in an Ode to Michael here are some of my favorite  quotes of all time. I hope these quotes make you laugh & maybe make you watch some old episodes, please feel free to leave a favorite quote of yours below. 

Here's to you Michael,

"I swore to myself if I ever got to walk around the room as manager, people would laugh as they saw me coming, and they'd applaud as I walked away."

"That is a perfectly good mini Christmas tree. We are going to sell that to charity because that is what Christmas is all about."

"Would I rather be feared or loved? Um... Easy, both. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me."

"This is our receptionist, Pam. If you think she's cute now, you should have seen her a couple years ago."

"Armani get me Armani. (pause) You're not going to Paris."

"I'm very fast. I'm like Forrest Gump"

"This is an environment of welcoming, and you should just get the hell outta here,"

"Yeah, I went hunting once. Shot a deer in the leg. Had to kill it with a shovel. Took about an hour. Why do you ask?"

"Yes. It is true. I, Michael Scott, am signing up with an online dating service. Thousands of people have done it, and I am going to do it. I need a username, and... I have a great one. "Little Kid Lover". That way people will know exactly where my priorities are at."

"Toby is in HR, which technically means he works for corporate, so he's really not a part of our family. Also, he's divorced, so he's really not a part of his family." 

Prank call: "Hey, Ryan, this is your girlfriend and I'm mad. (out of control laughter)" 

"You may look around, and see two groups here. White collar, blue collar. But I don't see it that way. You know why not? Because I am collar-blind." 

To Toby: "Why are you the way that you are? Honestly, every time I try to do something fun or exciting, you make it not... that way. I hate... so much about the things that you choose to be."

and finally . . .

"That's what *she* said." 

Thanks for the laughs buddy,

molly

925

{ s u n d a y . . . }

I had the sunday of sundays this week and I am so excited to share with you. I hadn't quite intended to go to church, I didn't set an alarm and decided that if I woke up too late I would do pilates and clean the house. Bryce was working and I usually don't have the drive to get up and go without him. However, I woke up in time,  called my mom and we were early enough that we had time to grab some coffee and sit outside of church before it started. So nice. 

Four boys were baptized that morning, I saw and talked to a lot of old faces and met a few new ones. My parents and grandmother were there with me for the beginning part of the service, we worshiped together and celebrated the boys. After the baptisms my family left having attended the earlier service and having other places to be. I sat alone in that beautiful church and I was so comfortable and happy that it surprised me.

{ b a c k g r o u n d }

it is necessary for me to tell you this so that you will grasp the meaning of this sunday.

For approximately five years I have been seeing the numbers 925 everywhere I look. Five years ago they were part of a phone number that I called all the time, and that I ceased to call after a painful break-up. I began seeing 925 EVERYWHERE. Each time I would look at the clock morning or night, it was 9:25. It made me crazy. I hated the reminder, the taunt, the pain that I associated with those numbers and I couldn't escape them. Over time their appearance subsided with the occasional flare-up. It felt like a sickness but I hadn't had it for some time. However, last month I began seeing them again; on the clock in my car, on my phone, even on my computer which is unfixably, off by 8 hours. I  turned on an X-Files episode and the first thing I saw was "925" on the side of a huge ship. I was stunned, it was too much and I felt angry. Why was I seeing 925 again?

I shared this issue with a counselor and he immediately, before I could finish going through my list of places, said, "Do you think it could be a scripture reference?"

I looked at him and said that I couldn't think of one but that I would run home and race through my Bible. He suggested I not do that. "Wait for God to reveal it to you," he said, "don't force meaning where it doesn't belong". 

So I waited, & then Sunday happened.

{ . . . s u n d a y }

My pastor began reading out of John 10:10 "I came so that you might have life and have it in abundance". Beautiful. I begin reading that passage where Jesus is calling himself my shepherd and me a sheep. I'm not too flattered but i know it's true. As I'm reading I realize that chapter 9 is just the column to the left of where I'm reading. I think, "why not? I'll look, it'll probably be something about directions or names or just something too random. but I want to know". I read the passage leading up to my numbers. It's the story of the blind man that Jesus has healed. The Pharisees are questioning the man and telling him it wasn't Jesus who healed him because Jesus was a sinner. Then, in John 9:25 the man says, 

"Whether he is a sinner or not I do not know.  
One thing I do know, I was blind but now I see"

Amazing Grace. That was my first thought, it's one of my favorite hymns and was the dearest of ideas to me five years ago when I had lost so much and felt that I had so little. I had Jesus' amazing grace, I had been blind and I was just beginning to see. 

Alone in the back I sat shaking as I read the passage over and over and over again. I had not forced this meaning, this is what 925 had meant all along. This was my verse, my 925, my reason, my grace. I sat there and was struck and overwhelmed by the deeply personal way God was communicating to me. That he was changing those numbers that I had so hated into numbers of tearful joy, into a gift that I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

That morning was a testimony of so many things. God's redemption, goodness, intimate love, personal grace and divine timing. I am overwhelmed still and have to tell myself even as I see 925 now that it isn't bad anymore, I can now see.

my heart is so deeply grateful for sunday and I just had to share it with you.

molly

joyce

this has been a victorious week for me my friends. In the light of one decision that has set me free so many other little moments of sweet revelation have followed. I received so much affirmation from you and others in my life and it has been utterly thrilling. God did not have to add other hearts to mine, as I was confident and happy in my decision to delete the thesis, but He did anyway. As always with God, He overwhelms my soul.

I've been buried in James Joyce this week and if you are aware of my academic history you know how happy that has made me. I first encountered the illustrious Mr. Joyce in HS where I attempted to read Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man - it is one of two books I didn't finish in HS (I've added many more to that since but I'm trying to stress how great my hatred was). I hated him.

In 2007 I decided to take a study abroad course in Dublin, Ireland. The course was a seminar in James Joyce. I didn't care anymore, I wanted to go to Ireland and that was my ticket. While there is a very special Dublin story that I could share here I will wait and save it for it's anniversary date in June - this post is for Joyce. 

In Dublin my classmates and I read Joyce's collection of short stories called Dubliners in the first week and in the subsequent two weeks we tackled Joyce's epic and monstrous Ulysses. The 700+ page book takes place in one day and each event happens on a specific and actual street or place in Dublin. I ate the same sandwich Leopold Bloom ate at the Davy Burns pub and walked the shores of Sandy Mount where Stephen Dedalus pondered "ineluctable modality." I have read a lot of books, mostly classic titles and I am proud of my reading list, my crowning achievement thus far is having read Ulysses. This book is not for the faint of heart, the casual or naive reader. You should probably be 24 before you read this book and even then, this is not an add to go read it. However, if you are an English major (and I suspect that many of you dear readers are) then this book is a must for you, it just might change your life. I didn't realize the impression the book, the place and the experience had made upon me until months or maybe a year after I got home. I had carried that book with me everywhere for three solid weeks and even after that I continued to carry it, we were dear friends, my companion in my first great journey. 

I got to re-read another story of Joyce's this semester, a short and lovely little story called "Araby," the name captivates me, I'd name my daughter that if I could, but I will probably have to give it to a second or third basset hound as the first one will obviously be "Ulysses." Anyway, this story I can recommend to you, snatch it somewhere, take 25 minutes to dig in and read it, fall into it, fall in love with it and then sit up and clap yourself on the back, you have read and survived James Joyce. 

Besides just wanting to talk about Joyce, I decided it was probably time to explain that "shellcocoacoloured" is a Joycean creation from one of the first chapters in the book. The phrase, like "Araby" caught me. It is simple, beautiful, with familiar words re-fashioned into a phrase that holds it's own meaning for each reader. I selected it because I find myself and most people feel that way about themselves. We are each made up of pieces of so many different words that we can hardly ever use just one. Joyce doesn't want to, doesn't have to because he's Joyce, so he writes "shellcocoacoloured" and prints a moment of the sublime onto a page.

I suppose in my own way that is what I have set out to do. I don't quite know what I am yet or what this will become, but being "shellcocoacoloured" is a sweet, and enchanting place to start.

molly

a thinky thing

I have been in the depths of my mind this last month, evaluating life decisions, relationships, goals and new ideas. It's been an interesting time and a difficult one as well. Change is a'comin' and that scares just about all of us I think. 

I have made a big decision and I mean really crazy, big, drastic decision: I am no longer going to write a thesis on Hamlet. If you had suggested to me just a couple months ago an alternative option to finishing my masters degree I would have stubbornly and with determination said that I wanted to write it, to have a book, a big bunch of pages that I had written - looking back, I think it was an ego trip. I don't care anymore about the thesis, I do still care about the topic. My passion for Shakespeare hasn't died, but my drive to teach or participate in the academic community has and I am still in a little shock over it. 

My priorities have changed drastically over this last year, slowly but drastically. Bryce and I were sitting in the "New Members" class at our church, a church I have attended for every year of my life and that I am now excited to intentionally commit to. But sitting in that class our pastor started sharing different people groups that are untouched in our surrounding community. I sat there and my heart hurt for them, I wanted to talk to them, explain grace & Jesus and in that moment the grand idea of my thesis fizzled. I realized my time will be better spent without it - as I imagined and realized that reality, my stress level vanished, I was smiling, I felt value and purpose in my decision, a rightness with God. Amazing yeah? I wasn't in a church service, I wasn't even thinking about school, but God came and graced me with peace, joy, and a satisfaction in my decision to do the exam that I never could have imagined. 

I'd love to tell you more but I have to be off to work. Maybe I'll drop in later tonight, my heart is full and the blog is a little empty. I've been caught in this "thinky thing" - a fantastic little phrase my dear friend shared with me (a quote from a professor - yes, see I could teach!) - and I am coming out of it now. I am processing and getting so excited. 

Life is filling up with meaning again.

molly