Twinkling Lights in Willowtown

This picture brings me much delight.  

Warm, bright Christmas lights lining the trees in front of Iris Cafe's eclectic storefront.  The Riverside Houses towering above, River Deli and our Moroccan friends in the near distance.  This little corner of Brooklyn has been our home for the last two-and-a-half years, and we have loved every single moment (well, except for the moments when some of our hei ren neighbors taunted us from a balcony in Building 20, yelling, "Tell your people to stop moving in here!" ... but we get some sort of that practically everywhere, so...).

Living here has been a joy and a privilege.  Wish we could stay.  One day in the semi-near future, we will go and make our home elsewhere.  But we will always be thankful for the all the seasons--particularly the joyful Christmases!--that we had here.

Siiiiigh.  It's been a while since I last reflected.  I have a number of things on my mind this evening.

Moments of Delight.

We've had a number of these lately.  

This afternoon, the Squires ventured out into the freshly fallen snow with two friends from church after eating a very satisfying Brooklyn pizza lunch at Juliana's.  We had an impromptu snowball fight -- husbands vs. wives.  We raced across a soccer field scenically situated on a pier, partially in an attempt to weird out the guy who was cross-country skiing on the field.  We took pictures together.  We went to a nearby playground and I finally got the chance to try out the two big slides there.  They were extra-slippery in the snow, and we flew off the slides at seemingly break-neck speeds, shrieking the whole way.  We became children again, and it was awesome.

We received an orchid from a dinner guest two weekends ago.  It is still alive.  In fact, it is doing well.  This is something of a small miracle in this household, as I am reputed to have a black thumb.  I am delighted that Margherita (I named after Margharita of Savoy for the same reason that the margherita pizza is so named) is thriving. Let's see how long I can keep this up!

The last week has brought several soul-feeding conversations with sisters at church and with my dearest friend at work.  I enjoy a good, deep conversation that surpasses small talk and generalities and really digs in deep to address real issues (good and bad) in life.  I am deeply grateful that work has been incredibly low-key and peaceful for so many weeks.  This has given me the opportunity to recenter my thoughts surrounding work and where I am now, reconnect with many people, and reflect on big-picture stuff.  

Sobering Reminders.

I am painfully aware that I am far too impatient with my parents sometimes.  I am actually nervous about returning home for the holidays for that precise reason:  I haven't seen them in so many months, so I want to make the time really good.  But I know (based on my phone conversations with them) that certain things that they do (or don't do) push my buttons to such a degree that I snap at them or say things that I shouldn't.  I hate repeating myself, for example.  I also hate being interrupted.  I don't like hearing criticisms (they sound like criticisms to me, anyway) about how other children are raised, especially because that makes me nervous that I will also be so criticized behind my back about how I raise my own children in the future.  I grow impatient with hearing about the same medical problems, again and again.  I don't like being asked, "Can you believe it? Are you surprised?" because in some perverse way I think I am somehow above being surprised (at least with them).  All of this is horrible and stupid and embarrassing of me.  I'm quite ashamed, really.  :(  I know that only God can help me be better.  Only He can give me the grace and self-control that I so desperately need.  I have been praying that I will be patient with them throughout our visit; that we will be a blessing and not a curse to my parents; that we will love them and make them feel loved; that we will be willing to do things that we don't particularly enjoy simply because they enjoy it.  And by "we" I mean "I," because in these ways Mr. Squire is a better child of my parents than I am.  Problem is, he's not actually their child, so they don't really care that much about whatever he does or doesn't do.  It's what I do or don't do...and I really need to do better.  Lord, deliver me from evil and help me to be better...

Something happened at work recently that completely rattled me.  I felt very tense and unsettled for the rest of the day, and spent much of the day pondering how the event would or could possibly affect my perceived standing as an attorney, as a female, or simply as an individual.  It was a terrible day, and I felt helpless and unjustifiably attacked.  Things got better as the day went along, but I was still uneasy when I left the office.  I took a long walk toward home, playing Steven Curtis Chapman's songs on my iPhone and reflecting on the events of the day.  I was proud of myself for turning to God early on in the event--praying for my "enemy" and also praying for a right perspective.  But I knew that I was still nursing my broken pride.  I looked up at the moon shining down on me, and I remembered with great comfort who I am in Christ.  For a moment, it was well with my soul.  And that moment gave way to a reminder from the Holy Spirit that the sufferings we endure actually serve great purposes.  God reminded me of other difficulties that He had brought me through in the past:  unfair characterizations in high school; unjustified feedback from a particular employee in a prior job; uncertainty with respect to my professional future at various points in my education and career; rough roads in my personal relationships.  God showed me scenes from each prior thorny thicket.  Then He brought to mind scenes from conversations that took place years later--when I was in a position to share about my path out of the thicket with real empathy and real compassion from a place of genuine understanding.   Second Corinthians 1:3-7 says: 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort,  who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.  For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ.  If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer.  And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.

I felt substantially better about what happened at work as a result of this reflection.  It may have been unfair, but it will serve a purpose one day.  That makes it worth something, and much easier to accept.  Still hard, but easier.

The Plan for 2014.

God willing, and with the Lord's help, I'm going to become a better writer in 2014.  One comment I received this summer has fueled a fire within me to prove the commenter wrong.  I've resumed the study of a usage book, started a word list, subscribed to The New Yorker, and ordered two desk references.  I will pay much closer attention to how I draft even the simplest of emails.  I will practice, practice, practice.  I am determined. 

Still At Home Sick

Day ten of being sick, and I'm feeling pretty miserable because I'm still in pretty rough shape (slept only two hours last night due to incessant coughing) and tomorrow is Monday.  I went into the office for all of two hours last week, and I have a filing on Tuesday, and I'm interviewing someone tomorrow, so I need to go in tomorrow.  I thought the whole holiday weekend thing would help me recover, but... seems I just got worse! :-p

I digress.

What I actually meant to say is that the side benefit of being sick is being forced to slow down...to stop, in fact... to reflect... to re-evaluate.  To be still.  I appreciate that aspect of illness.  This time around, I've spent a lot of time lying in bed, awake.  Ordinarily I am pretty restless; I like to be busy with things, even if it's being busy doing something relaxing.  Sitting still and doing nothing is not among my fortes.  And yet I have spent MANY hours during this last week doing exactly that.  And in those many many hours, I've been reflecting upon the following:

• This is, in part, what I've been praying for over the last several months.  Things have been going so well and I have been praying daily that even when things start to slip, we will still maintain a posture of gratitude and joy.  God has been answering that prayer.  Of course, we know this illness will pass and there are much greater trials to come.  But I feel that God has used this little hiccup to affirm the value of requests during times of peace for the same strength--and alacrity even--to carry us through times of difficulty. 

• The cross.  The meaning of the Jesus's sacrifice.  How it relates to communion.  How it relates to me.  I've shared before how I struggle with communion.  It's not a very spiritual experience for me, and a lot of times I feel as if I'm just going through the motions without understanding why it is so important, or even how the symbolism really works.  But an "Eat This Book  - Torah" sermon we listened to recently walked us through the whole process of atonement and animal sacrifice in the Old Testament, and it really spoke to me.  Pastor Tim talked about how sin is like our trash, and we can't just let trash accumulate; we have to deal with our trash.  How God deals with trash is by requiring the shedding of innocent blood to cover our sin.  While this sounds violent and gruesome, it just goes to show how serious sin is in God's sight.  In the Old Testament, God allowed a sinner to atone for his sin by bringing a blemish-free animal to the altar, laying his hands on the animal (thus symbolically) transferring his own sin to the animal, and slaying the animal (to pay the debts of the sinner).  The Israelites had to bring sacrifices over and over and over, though...until Jesus came.  As the Lamb of the world, He took away all the sins of the world, for good, with His sacrifice on the cross.  It's not as if I didn't know all this stuff before, but...somehow it makes a lot more sense to me now.  

• The parable of the man who was forgiven a huge debt, but wouldn't turn around and forgive a small debt.  I read this earlier in the week and it really stuck out to me.  I struggle with being judgmental of certain people in my life, and I feel as if God is telling me that I judge them because I haven't forgiven them.  And I must forgive them; after all, I am the man who was forgiven a huge debt! How could I not turn around and forgive a small debt?!  I am still mulling this over, and realizing how much I need God's help to change.

• My husband is more patient and loving than I am.  All week, night after night, I have kept him up with my coughing.  Instead of consoling me during Coughing Bout 1 through 3, then ignoring me in all subsequent Coughing Bouts throughout the night out of annoyance (which is what I would probably do), he consoles me during all of them, all through the night. Every night.  And now I know--yet again--how much more patient and loving he is.  I'm challenged to be better at this wife thing.  Need to outbless my husband!

Time for a nap, methinks.  Or maybe just more lying in bed, with more time to reflect.

At Home Sick...

Today I had to stay home from work because I'm sick.  Blech.  

But Mr. Squire left some nice surprises for me...  :)  I think he has already begun (as have I) the challenge we received to out-bless each other (see yesterday's post).

Weekend to Remember

This past weekend, Mr. Squire and I joined ten friends from church to attend a weekend-long marriage seminar near Philly.  The seminar covered a whole host of topics - including barriers to oneness in marriage, how the ways in which we communicate can foster oneness, priorities in marriage, how God calls men and women to different roles and responsibilities in marriage, and how godly marriages can leave lasting legacies.  A smattering of reactions and reflections from the weekend:

• Like premarital counseling was for us, not much in this seminar was new to us.  We had already thought about and/or were exercising many of the things that were raised.  But it is always good to hear them again.  Encouragements to stay grounded in the Word, to pray together daily (something I'm so happy we have done from day one), to be open and communicative, to remember that our spouse is not the enemy, to prioritize our marriage as foremost and second only to our relationship with God...these were great reminders, particularly we look to move to the next stage in our life.

• I realized during some of my own reflections that there are a number of ways in which I want to improve as a wife:

• With greater frequency, I want to think before I speak.  Mr. Squire and I are very comfortable with each other.  We operate on the same wavelength the majority of the time, and we are very playful.  We gently tease a lot.  But there can be a fine line between a gentle tease and a passive-aggressive jab.  Mr. Squire is not very passive-aggressive, so that's not something he really struggles with.  But I can be very passive-aggressive, so I know that in my heart, sometimes my "gentle tease" is more of a "nudge-nudge," or even an outright complaint.  There are ways to deal with complaints, and instead of resorting to passive-aggressive hints, I should deal with those issues outright (thoughtfully and kindly, at the right time, and in the right manner).  Moreover, sometimes I find myself telling stories about Mr. Squire at his expense to others, because I find them funny.  And they are funny.  And Mr. Squire is embarrassed by practically nothing, so I know it doesn't hurt him in any way.  But...that's a pretty low bar.  The question should be, am I honoring him with my words at all times, particularly in public?  Do I really need to tell those stories? (Aren't there other stories to tell, and at my own expense?)   Mr. Squire has never complained about this.  But I feel that it is time for me to think before I speak in that way as well.

• With greater frequency, I want to strive to put Mr. Squire's needs above my own.  I have to say:  I totally lucked out in this marriage.  Mr. Squire is one of the most selfless people I know.  As one of four children, he had plenty of experience with sharing, being inconvenienced, being flexible.  As the youngest of two children, I had plenty of experience with being babied (though thankfully not spoiled), rarely being inconvenienced, and being inflexible.  So...just as every marriage has a saver and a spender, every marriage has a giver and a taker.  Don't get me wrong:  Mr. Squire would agree with me that I do a lot of things for our relationship and in our home.  But in so many other ways, I feel like he is definitely the giver, and I am the taker.  I get my way more often on so many things because his opinions just aren't so strong, so he yields to mine since the issues matter more to me.  Take restaurants for instance.  I'll eat anything except French, Vietnamese, and Indonesian.  Mr. Squire doesn't care about French or Indonesian food, but he happens to really enjoy Vietnamese food.  But whenever we eat out together, we never  go to a Vietnamese place.  Sometimes I offer, but he never goes for it because he knows I don't like it, and he says he is ambivalent about it -- and then I let him have his way, by having my way.  It's a petty example, but it's representative of something bigger.  The bottom line is that I need to be more extravagant in my efforts to put his needs and wants above my own.  In the restaurant case, that means insisting on going to a Vietnamese place from time to time.  I can do that -- I just don't.  I should start.

• I want to grow in wisdom and groundedness in Jesus and the Word.  As we look to the next stage, I am realizing how much more important it will be for me to be completely grounded in Jesus in order to keep my priorities straight and glorify God in our marriage.  God has been so good to us so far, and we are doing so well.  But we do not know what tomorrow may bring.  And I need to prepare myself and equip myself -- literally armor myself with spiritual strength through Jesus -- in order to do my job right.  That's actually the best thing I can do for my husband.

• The seminar felt a lot like the Midwest culture in which I was raised.  They talk a certain way, they tell certain types of jokes, they tell certain types of stories, they react to the jokes and stories in a certain type of way.  They are salt-of-the-earth, wholly committed people.  And they hold a certain set of beliefs.  One of those beliefs (it seemed) was that a woman's place is primarily in the home.  She might also work out of necessity under extenuating circumstances, but her place is really in the home.  I bristled at that notion.  But I'd like to pursue it further.  I don't want to continue working if/when the kids come just because the culture in which I find myself now says that it is acceptable and indeed necessary or even laudable.   But I also don't want to quit working just because the culture in which I was raised essentially bullies me into thinking that I must do so in order to live a life of full obedience.  What does God say?  What does He require?  What is His plan for us?  I'd like to seek and find that -- and spend some good time during the coming months figuring that out.  I have no idea how, but I want to pursue that issue.

• Beyond the intentional time Mr. Squire and I enjoyed in working on our marriage, it was really encouraging and cool to be able to attend the seminar with ten of our friends -- five married couples whom we truly love, respect, and trust.  What a privilege it is to journey with brothers and sisters and strive toward strong, godly marriages together.  That is a rare gift.

At the end of the seminar, we all renewed our vows, which was a nice recommitment to God and to our spouses.  I was encouraged and blessed by this weekend to remember all the blessings God has bestowed -- and my responsibility to be wise and judicious in how I steward and nurture such blessings.

Is that my cousin?

If our progeny can spell and organize, I'll take credit for that.  But if they are adorably funny and clever, that will all be attributable to Mr. Squire.  

Exhibit A:  This evening, I came home to see our pet Pi hovering anxiously over a pot of chicken soup with this sign...

Hello, November: Gratitude List 1-10

How is it November already?!  And not just November, but the back half of November??

A bunch of people on Facebook have been posting one thing for which they are thankful each day.  I like reading what they say, and it's heartwarming to see people practice gratitude.  In August of 2004, I started a "happy journal" in which I listed things for which I was grateful each day.  I kept up the practice for about seven years and eventually stopped because I realized that after years of practicing gratitude on a daily basis, it had become a habit.  I didn't need a journal anymore to remind me to be grateful; I just was grateful, and could see--without looking too hard--the myriad blessings that covered each day.

That having been said, though, it would be nice to join my fellow FB compatriots by spelling out some of the things for which I am grateful.  I'll start with ten today (in no particular order, except the first):

1.  Jesus. God. The Holy Spirit.  Almighty, infinite, all-loving, sacrificial, forgiving, compassionate, JUST, magnificently creative, patient, kind, generous, long-suffering, divine.

2.  Creation.  Everything from the big things (the magnitude of the galaxies and planetary bodies, the power of the tide and oceans, the vast extent of biodiversity, the miracle of human life) to the "little" things (the sound of laughter, the changing color of leaves every fall, the mesmerizing nature of clouds) reflect God's goodness, creativity, and power.  He is awesome, and what He made was good.

3.  My parents.  Their lives have exemplified courage, diligence, perseverance, adventure, discipline, wisdom, faith, acceptance, and love.  And they let me persist in my obsession with stuffed animals.  :)

4.  My brother and his family.  My second father and third parent nursed me through nosebleeds, cheered me through chronic ailments, and taught me about co-dominance versus partial dominance (among numerous other lessons in math and science).  Now, with the support of his wonderful wife and kid, he is living out his calling, healing bodies and ministering to souls, both here and abroad.  

5.  My Rascal.  The funniest.  The most servant-hearted.  The most patient.  The most happy-go-lucky.  The most agreeable.  The most humble.   The most teachable.  The most wonderful.

6.  Joy.  Right now, things are going really well.  We're healthy, we're employed (well, kind of), we're ministering to others and passing on the things God has taught us, we're enjoying life to the fullest.  But even when things aren't going well, we still have joy--that deep-seated sense of spiritual wellness that can come only through freedom in Christ.  I am thankful for happiness, but even more thankful for joy.

7.  Our home.  The day will come, I'm sure, when we will have to leave this place.  But for the last two years and every day since, I've been reveling in magical Brooklyn Heights.  From the towering, glowing gingkos that rise past five stories, to the rows of stately brownstones with their cheerfully decorated doors, to the gentle lapping river just a cobblestoned walk away, to our wonderful neighbor friends in the building and the shops (Calvin & Lisette, Karim, Thuza, Ghizlan, Fudla, Mohamed, Saleem, Salah), life is just really really good here.

8.  The Firm.  When I think about my co-workers--all of them, from the records room to the paralegals to the secretaries to the tech folks to the kitchen ladies to the associates to the partners--I am filled with thankfulness.  I've not been happier anywhere else.  It's been such a great place to heal and grow and contribute.

9.  Sisters.  So many sisters!  Never had so many all at once, and so many wonderful women surrounding me.  The women at our church are loving, talented, fun, eager, genuine, and strong.  Iron sharpening iron.

10.  Health.   I made it to 30 without any major health crises.  So many people in the world can't say the same.  Thanks for the health, God.

Dispatch from the Desert

You know how when you're playing in the ocean, you often find yourself somehow half a mile down from where you started, even though you didn't think you were actually moving?  The current is an invisible, imperceptible, yet incredibly powerful force.

Pick any timeframe: last three months, last year, last two years.  As I look back on each timeframe, I feel as if I am presently a notable distance away from where I started.  I didn't notice the movement until now, but a spiritual current has been pushing me to a totally different place.

This place looks different. It feels different. Life is just different now.  I think the messages from retreat snapped me out of oblivion and helped me to realize where I am.  I am in the desert.  And for once, I don't hate it.  In fact, I've begun to cultivate a cactus garden.  I've taken to studying the sand, stars, and skies with all this wide open space.  And finally, post-retreat, I've decided to pitch a tent.  I'm staying here until God calls me out, and until He calls me out, I'm going to make this desert my home.

The Cactus Garden

It seems God has ushered in a new season of growth in relationships.  

Over the last several years, as I gradually learned to let go of my law school fellowship and build new ties at my local church, I've relished deepening relationships with women at my church.  The women are a very special bunch:  talented, interesting, deep, complex, and loving.  And talkative! I like talkative.  They are also good listeners, and they want to grow in Jesus, as do I.  I am encouraged by their stories, and I am challenged by their trials. It's been a gift to go deeper with these women and journey together, and grow together.  

An unexpected addition to this cactus garden are a couple other relationships with folks who are seeking truth, but haven't quite gotten there yet.  I've never really struggled with the messages or status of the Bible as God's Word all that much (some yes, but not significantly so), but I have a couple friends for whom this is a barrier to faith.  I'm not really sure what to do, but I've taken to exploring their questions with them, if only so they can have a friend along the way...and so I can keep an eye and a prayer on them in the meantime.  It's good.  Tough for me, because I just don't have the same struggles.  But I believe God has called me to this, and that makes it really good.

The Study of Sand, Stars, and Sky

I've always been a reader.  Growing up, I loved the Amelia Bedelia, Boxcar Children series, the Babysitters Club, all books by Lurlene McDaniel (morbid, I know), Beverly Cleary, Fudge and Tootsie, the Piggle-Wiggle books, and Frog and Toad.  In college, I read almost every single fiction book available in the HCW library.  In law school, pleasure reading took a dive because we were reading 4000 pages per semester anyway.  But when I emerged from law school, I picked up the self-dubbed genre of "fascinating non-fiction" and have been addicted to it ever since.  Need a book recommendation about Somali pirates? What it's like to be kidnapped by the FARC?  The smuggling of Chinese people into the US?  The drug trade? North Korea?  Life behind a burqa?  I'm your go-to person.

Except...not for the moment.  

These days, I'm in the middle of reading two books:  Tim Keller's "Every Good Endeavor" and Bonhoeffer's "The Cost of Discipleship."  Plus the Bible-in-a-year plan that our women's group is doing (currently in Job and Acts).  I really miss reading my fascinating non-fiction. But there's no time for it right now.  I'm too busy reading all this other stuff that is enriching my faith, telling me things I need to hear in this moment in time.  Again, it's good.  Studying the God who put me in the desert, studying things that He seems to want to share with me.  I have all this space in terms of time and focus and energy.  This is what He has called me to do with it.  So I'm studying...and it's good.

The Tent

I'd been resisting this.  I'd been plotting my way out (although really, that seems foolish now that I think about it...even when we think we are in control, we aren't).  I'd been dreaming up ways to draw or find a map, chart a course, and free myself.

No longer.

I'm staying here.  I realize that I'm supposed to be here.  This is part of the plan, and it is part of a good plan. It has a purpose, I don't want to thwart that purpose.  So...I'm pitching a tent, getting comfortable, learning to make a life out of this place.  And in this, I think I am finally--finally--learning to be still and really know that He is God.

Leaf by Niggle

One of the blessings I've experienced along this journey into the University of the Desert is deep compassion from brothers and sisters who almost seem to share a stake in my journey and its outcome.  Their compassion manifests itself in true concern, heartfelt prayers, and patient listening ears (over and over and over...).

In the most recent installment of such compassion, Larry and Jackie gifted Mr. Squire and me with Tim Keller's "Every Good Endeavor."  Upon the recommendation of other friends from church, we had actually already purchased a copy, but I hadn't started reading it (wanted to finish Bonhoeffer's bio and "The Cost of Discipleship" first).  Following a most encouraging church retreat (in which I finally realized and accepted my place in the desert, and turned my heart from despair to expectation), I decided it was time to crack open the book. 

I couldn't even get through the Introduction without bawling.  The story of JRR Tolkien's "Leaf by Niggle" just launched a stream of tears as I read about this artist named Niggle who struggled through his entire life to paint the tree of his dreams.  He could see it in his mind's eye, and he tried to devote his life to transferring the tree in his dreams onto a canvas to share with the world.  But life kept interrupting him, and the magnitude of the project--combined with his perfectionism--was much too large to accomplish in Niggle's lifetime.  Niggle died, and in the afterlife, he was judged by two voices:  Justice and Mercy.  Justice criticized Niggle for not accomplishing more in his life, while Mercy acknowledged all the good that Niggle did for others, even sacrificing time to work on his painting for the sake of others.  At Mercy's behest, Niggle is allowed to cross into paradise.  There, to his great astonishment, he sees the tree of his imaginings in its full glory, and not just on a canvas, but for real. 

Everyone is Niggle.  Dr. Keller writes this:

[L]et's say you are a lawyer, and you go into law because you have a vision for justice and a vision for a flourishing society ruled by equity and peace.  In ten years you will be deeply disillusioned because you will find that as much as you are trying to work on important things, so much of what you do is minutiae. . . . Whatever your work, you need to know this:  There really is a tree.  Whatever you are seeking in your work--the city of justice and peace, the world of brilliance and beauty, the story, the order, the healing--it is there.  There is a God, there is a future healed world that he will bring about, and your work is showing it (in part) to others.  Your work will only be partially successful, on your best days, in bringing it about.  But inevitably the whole tree that you seek--the beauty, harmony, justice, comfort, joy, and community--will come to fruition.

I am all at once encouraged and moved, and totally deflated, by all of this.  On one hand, the reminder (previously so easily lost on me) that God will restore justice to the earth makes my heart sing.  I truly long for that.  My heart desires it.  My eyes cannot wait to see it.  That's so much of the reason why I went into law: to be an instrument that brings such justice about.

On the other hand, ... really, Dr. Keller?  Here I stand, a few years into my career, and as I squint into the long distance ahead, you're telling me that...throughout my many years of toil and trouble, only a select few, "best" days will produce mere glimpses of the justice in God's restored kingdom?  Really?  That makes me really sad.  Is that all I have to look forward to?  What is the meaning of everything else I do, as I toil after the remaining "minutiae"?  

Or is that not the point?  Maybe (probably) the point is that it's not actually about me and what I accomplish in this life.  Maybe the point is that there's a real, just world out there that God will one day reveal, and that alone should make our hearts sing.  Maybe the point is also that even though we are mere dust, God gives us an innate longing for his justice, and He lets us do work that strives for that justice.  And maybe the point is that, against the crazy tide of this world and its ways, sometimes He lets us successfully reflect--albeit on a tiny scale, and only in part--the beauty of the just world that is to come, and in so doing, He allows us both to see and point to the Kingdom before our time has come.

My New Hobby

My new hobby is papercutting.  I started today, and the above papercut was my first project.  It took slightly more than two hours to finish this afternoon.  

I am addicted.

Not sure how I'm going to return to work on Monday without an X-Acto knife in my hand....

Gathering the Troops

Mr. Squire is away again this weekend, so I'm by myself until Tuesday.  Different husbands show their love in different ways.  Last night, I came home to see the above displayed on our bed, which just went to prove...

My husband knows how to love me the right way.  

(Thing is, I don't quite know what is going on in this scene.  Doggy and Mr. Taley apparently have everyone else's rapt attention, and there is an unpictured sign above their heads that reads, "It's time to go!"  So... not sure if they are telling everyone else to leave--which would make no sense, because they are kind and would not set away their brothers--or whether they are like Moses and Aaron, gathering the troops for an exodus. The latter seems more likely, but makes no sense since the animals already reside in the Promised Land of my care.  I will have to ask Mr. Squire to explain.)

Ohana Means Family

I found this email in my inbox this evening from Mr. Squire:

Subject: Ohana

Body:

It means family.  And family means nobody gets left behind.
It means I'm thinking about you as I ride the subway right now....
See you at home!

Xoxo

I am a little mystified--and surprisingly touched.

Mockers and Murderers

Psalm 1:1-2 

Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the LORD, and who meditates on his law day and night.

The Cost of Discipleship, Chapter Nine ("The Brother"), by Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Anger is always san attack on the brother's life, for it refuses to let him live and aims at his destruction.  Jesus will not accept the common distinction between righteous indignation and unjustifiable anger.  The disciple must be entirely innocent of anger, because anger is an offence against both God and his neighbour.  

Every idle word which we think so little of betrays our lack of respect for our neighbor, and shows that we place ourselves on a pinnacle above him and value our own lives higher than his.  The angry word is a blow struck at our brother, a stab at his heart:  it seeks to hit, to hurt and to destroy.  A deliberate insult is even worse, for we are then openly disgracing our brother in the eyes of the world, and causing others to despise him.  . . . We are passing judgment on him, and that is murder.  And the murderer will himself be judged. 

So long as we refuse to love and serve our brother and make him an object of contempt and let him harbour a grudge against me or the congregation, our worship and sacrifice will be unacceptable to God.  Not just the fact that I am angry, but the fact that there is somebody who has been hurt, damaged, and disgraced by me, who "has a cause against me," erects a barrier between me and God.

God has been speaking to me through the above passages over the most recent while.  Through them--and through Mr. Squire--God is revealing my status as a mocker and a murderer, and causing me to repent.

Mr. Squire and I share many inside jokes.  The jokes are for fun and for laughs.  We also share many code words.  Those are for calling each other out in a gentle manner.  When I'm grouchy or crabby and Mr. Squire calls me Barty.  When he's chewing with his mouth open--again--I ask him how his food tastes today.  When I'm acting OCD about something that doesn't matter, he calls me particular.  When he's not being nice, I call him meanybean.  And when I'm being snarky, he calls me PT.

I wasn't always snarky, but over time, I think it has become easier and easier to be snarky.  Usually it is paired with the times when I am being super-judgmental -- then the snarkiness really sets in.  It's pretty bad.  But for a while there, I didn't really realize how bad it was; I actually thought I was being witty and funny, particularly since Mr. Squire was the only one around to hear my snarky remarks, and he usually knows where I'm coming from, so he was laughing along.  (Kind of bad when the wolf is guarding the hen house.)  Every now and again, though, when I got super-snarky, Mr. Squire would call me PT, and then I would join him in drawing the line.  

A couple weeks ago, in doing his own Bible reading for the day, Mr. Squire came across Psalm 1, and he asked me out of the blue:  "Is PT a mocker?"  And I replied, "I guess so -- why?"  Then he read Psalm 1:1-2 to me.  And it kind of broke my heart.

It hit me that in God's eyes, my being snarky is totally the same as being a mocker.  And it is a blessing NOT to sit in the company of mockers like me who--by the way--share the same sludgy position as sinners and the wicked.  Sadness.  Sometimes I feel like the Bible isn't speaking to me.  But man, Psalm 1:1-2 speaks to me--loudly.  And PT has been making far fewer appearances ever since.  

Then, last night, I was reading the passage in Bonhoeffer's book about anger.  Let's back up for a second.  I have to say: when I get angry, I'm almost always indignant about it.  I think I'm right.  I'm not a loose cannon; if I'm mad, I have a darn good reason to be.   And where my anger erupts from an ongoing frustration, then I am all the more indignant--even against my brothers and sisters.  

What I have paid too little mind to thus far, however, is the fact that anger puts up not only a wall between me and the object of my anger, but a wall between me and God.  That's a powerful image, and one that pierced my judgmental soul last night.  Nothing is worth the mounting of a barrier between me and God.  I need as much of His light, love, favor, and goodness as I can get.  Is my petty frustration or so-called righteous indignation worth the brick wall that separates me from God and someone who is His child?  And is it worth becoming a murderer for?  Um, no.  So why build it in the first place?  Good question.  

I'm seeing anew how far I have to go, and how much I need Jesus to change me from the inside out.  I'm going after the good roots, and I want Jesus to prune away the mocker and murderer in me.  Prune it away and throw it to the fire -- leave only what will be useful for the Kingdom.

Recap: Crossroads: Seeing God In Your Work

Just returned from our church's annual retreat.  In my six years of this retreat, I have never slept so terribly (i.e. approximately four hours per night because I just couldn't fall asleep).  But at the same time, I've never been so blessed/encouraged/nourished.

There's no need to rehash the past; most anyone who reads this blog knows quite well where I've been and what the spiritual struggles have been over the last 18-24 months as God has led me to a most unexpected place in my career.  In short, He seemingly led me down a very clear and well-marked path with an unmistakeable goal for two decades, then spun me around a couple times, muddied up the waters, removed all the signposts, and just like that... I lost the plot.

This has been the source of so much anxiety over the last two years.  It has been the subject of so much prayer.  And it has been what is probably the second most critical spiritual struggle I have encountered in my walk with God.  And it's not over.  We're nowhere near resolution on this point, to my knowledge.  (But God, please do feel free to surprise me.)

The subject of retreat this year was integration of faith and work, and it could not have been more timely.  Given my sleep-deprived state and the fact that tomorrow is Monday again, I can't fully download and process all the things I learned this weekend.  As the week goes on and the next weekend rolls around, hopefully I'll have more time to devote to elaborating further.  But I must at the very least set forth, even in broad strokes, some of the key things I took away from this weekend:

• After the fall of man, sin spread like a virus from person to person, from family to family, from community to community, and throughout the whole of humanity.  Following Jesus's redemptive work on the cross, God is gradually reconciling the world to Himself in the same way:  from person to person, from family to family, from community to community.  And while God could have chosen any number of ways to bring about such reconciliation, He has chosen to do it through us.  And if we are to participate and collaborate with God in changing society and conquering communities for Jesus, we have to be part of those communities--and have influence over the major spheres of society.  Think about when God called Abraham to Himself:  Abraham was not the only one who was circumcised under that covenant; the whole of his family and all of the servants in his household were also circumcised and shared in the covenant.  

• The divide between "Christian ministry" (e.g. pastoring a church, overseas evangelism, caring for the poor via non-profit, etc.) and "secular work" (essentially, everything else: think IBM, Amazon, Apple, Facebook, fashion industry, law firms, Wall Street, education, etc.) is entirely artificial.  Nearly every industry and job has its place in the Bible, and God is Lord over it all.  And God has made us His ministers of reconciliation.  To that end, our job is to bring the kingdom of God into our respective areas of work and establish the presence of God in that area to transform it into the industry God intended it to be.  (See Guinness as an example.)

• We need to focus on good roots (i.e. close relationship with Christ), not good fruit.  If we have the good roots, the fruit will inevitably follow.  But the fruit should not be the focus.  

• Seek the overlap of Creativity (how we collaborate with God to co-create with God), Community, Calling, and Career.  Ministry should not be separate and apart from work; they should be understood to be part of a single effort with God at the helm.  When at a crossroads, ask which option will draw the "4 C's" closer together.

• There are seven major seasons in life.  In no particular order, they are:
• Faith and Knowing God
• Fearing and Hearing God
• Discovering Your Gifts
• Skills Building
• Internal Integrity
• University of the Desert
• (Re)Choosing Your Spouse

• It is important to understand:  what seasons have you been in?  Which one are you in now?  What season is coming up next?

• Brett (the speaker) and I agreed that i am in the University of the Desert.  His advice is:  Don't fight it.  It's not because you did something wrong, but it's because God wants to strip you of your self-reliance.  The University of the Desert is the gap of time between when you know your calling and when the world is ready to see it.  Consider Jesus:  he had an 18-year gap in the University of the Desert in the time between his visit to the temple "to be about His father's business" at age 12, and the beginning of his fulsome earthly ministry at age 30.  All the major leaders in the Bible went through the University of the Desert, and it is common, normal, and essential.  Don't fight it, because if you do, God will just send you right back in.  Instead, use the time. Treasure the time.  The time in the desert can be a beautiful place (indeed, that was Brett and Linh's prayer for me yesterday evening), and one that we can thank God for and truly grow from.  It is the time when God prunes away the parts of our soul that aren't going to advance His Kingdom, and when He prepares us for what He has next.  When you're happy to spend the rest of your life in the desert, that's probably when you're actually ready to leave it. 

• How can we make a difference in our workplaces/industries despite our relatively low positions?  Might be hard for us to appreciate this, but...chances are good, we won't be able to do so absent a miracle on God's part.  Throughout the Bible and history, God has used a "marketing campaign" of signs and wonders to reveal His power and draw people to Himself.  Of course, it's not just about signs and wonders.  The Gospel has two arms:  the Word of God, and the power of God.  But usually, the power of God comes first to demonstrate God's power--and then the words follow to lead others to Him.  Pray for God to bring miracles into our lives and the lives of those around us -- that they may see His power, have an open heart to hear His words, and be saved.

• Don't idolize calling; idolize God.  What is your calling?  You are called to work.  When we work with God in our present place of work, He will let us know if we are in the wrong (or right) place.  So keep doing your present work in your present place with all your might, and trust that God will direct you.  And in the meantime, expect that your present work is your calling.

I have been so encouraged, and I am excited to keep meditating on all of this.  I've long known/suspected that I am in the desert.  I've been whining and crying and complaining.  I'm Israel all over again.  But I have renewed confidence that I have not lost the plot.  Nor has God lost track of me.  I may feel alone at times, but He sees me.  His sending me to this retreat (and providing sun instead of the forecasted rain for the last 2 weeks) is proof of that to me.   It's time to explore the desert, cherish this time with God, and take in the scenery.  I'm not sure how long I will be here (Brett warns that it may be a while, and the Bible indicates the same), but I want to start thanking God for it and glorifying Him in it.

Emerging from Vacation

We're baaaaack!

The long radio silence since my last post can be attributed to the fact that we spent the last ten days in Florida and Charleston, and the majority of the time, we had no internet.  (One morning, we even camped out at McDonald's for a couple hours to download some things we needed for a project.  Desperation!)

It was an awesome vacation.  And it's good to be home.   I think those two statements, in combination, are the best assessment of a vacation that one can give:  it was great, and it was long enough, and I'm ready to be back.

God's providence was evident throughout the vacation.  The blessings ranged from:

• Safety in our travels, not just in flying, but in the 1200 miles that Mr. Squire drove while we were there (in our brand-spanking-new rental car...which featured all of SIX miles when they gave us the keys)

• Awesome weather.  It was supposed to rain so many of the days that we were there, but we barely experienced any rain (and the rain we did have was short-lived)

• Celebrating the weddings of two sets of friends - one in Orlando (Mr. Squire's college friend), one in Charleston (my law school friend).  We heard such great speeches, witnessed so much love from friends and family members.  How could we not be filled to overflowing with joy?

• The incredible joy of celebrating God's creation!  We saw/experienced so many cool things that God made during this trip (some of which are pictured here), including:

• Seeing one brightly shining planet named Venus during our prayer walk.

• Encountering a rather large turtle on the road near our home.  We parked on the side and watched it cross the road, and followed it into the neighboring field.

• Snorkeling in a huge (artificial) reef with a vast--and I mean vast--array of (very, very non-artificial) tropical fish and stingrays, many of which were larger than me.  That was just...incredible.  So, so cool.  I can't describe how amazing it felt to just explore the waters, follow the stingrays around, feel their "wings" brush against my legs, bug out at all the colorful fish, be entranced by the schools of fish...that was one very magical afternoon.

• Watching pelicans dive for fish and wild dolphins play in the surf of the ocean.

• Exploring anthills...gigantic anthills...and all the intricate tunnels within.  (And then getting bitten by several ants during my Godzilla explorations...)

• Feeding an array of colorful tropical birds as they landed on my hands, my shoulders, my head.

• Observing the endless array of puffy clouds filling the ever-changing theatre of sky.  I love puffy clouds, and Florida is full of them.

• Admiring the vast reedy marshes of Charleston.  They are lush and reflective and so beautiful.

• Quality time with Mr. Squire.  This includes time and space for serious, meditative conversations.  Heckling each other.  Him playing hide-and-seek with my stuffed animals (as in, he would hide them in the enormous house, then watch with great amusement as I frantically executed search-and-rescue missions).  Listening to sermons online together.  Taking prayer walks.  Singing along like crazy people to songs on the radio.  Playing many rounds of the "Appreciation Game" (in which we alternate in stating things that we appreciate about one another).  

• The benefits of low season at the parks.  On average, we waited maybe 10 minutes for each ride/attraction at Sea World, Disney World, and Universal Studios.  That's pretty amazing.

• Sleeping in.  Not thinking about work.

• Feeding my love for movies.  We watched four Redbox movies:  Les Miserables, Argo (which we loved!), Now You See Me (so entertaining), and 42 (my favorite).  

We are so thankful. 

And now, it's time to be back.  I'm a little nervous about returning to work after two weeks away, but at least it is a three-day week for me.  And our church retreat is coming up this weekend, and that will be good, because after two weeks away, we really started to miss our community.  Guess that is a healthy indicator that we are where we should be right now.

Seize the Day

One of the few things about this city that I actually embrace fully is a wonderful thing called the Broadway musical.  I love Broadway musicals.  They are fun, engrossing, and an incredible display of talent.  And, thanks to a combination of law firm summering and rush tickets with my uber-lucky spouse, I've have the incredible fortune of seeing many Broadway musicals (including Avenue Q, Wicked, In the Heights, Les Miz, Xanadu...).  But due to a spate of less luck, we haven't gone to any shows for the last two years...until today.  

It just so happens that one of my best friends from law school is here, visiting us from Hong Kong.  He is like a brother, and has been for the last 8 years.  To have these three days of vacation with him is such a gift.  He got in last night, and true to form, we stayed up until 2:30am talking.  This happens every time we get together.  (That has been the case for many years now)

Then, this morning, we started out the day by introducing him to almond croissants at Bien Cuit.  Then we went into Manhattan to try our luck at rushing "Newsies," and because it was a random Wednesday in late September (when the number of tourists is way down), all three of us won tickets.  I was so excited.  I grew up watching "Newsies" many, many, many, many times over -- that VHS tape has been worn thin over the years.  I still remember many of the lyrics (as does my brother, who texted me back with full lines of song lyrics when I told him the news), and I have such good memories of the movie.  To be able to see the musical with two of my favorite people (Mr. Squire and our friend) just took the cake.

Before the show, we headed to our amazing, not-so-secret, back-of-the-bodega taco purveyor at Tehuitzingo for their papas & chorizo and lengua tacos.  Sooooo good.  Then we settled into our Row F and Row C seats for the musical.  It was So. So. Good.  So good.  The dancing, the singing, the talent... and the songs that I remembered from so long ago.  When the show opened, I was fighting a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes -- so much nostalgia.  Mr. Squire and our friend also loved the musical (Mr. Squire and I agree that it is our second-favorite, behind only In the Heights), and it doubled my joy to be able to share this part of my childhood with them.

What an amazing first day of vacation.  I feel incredibly blessed and am excited for the next 13 days too!

Lessons from Another Era (Part II)

We think that we are acting particularly responsibly if every other week we take another look at the question whether the way on which on which we have set out is the right one.  It is particularly noticeable that such a "responsible reappraisal" always begins the moment serious difficulties appear.  We then speak as though we no longer had "a proper joy and certainty" about this way, or, still worse, as though God and his Word were no longer as clearly present with us as they used to be.  In all this we are ultimately trying to get round what the New Testament calls "patience" and "testing." . . . Dear brethren, our real trouble is not doubt about the way upon which we have set out, but our failure to be patient, to keep quiet.  We still cannot imagine that today God really doesn't want anything new for us, but simply to prove us in the old way. . . . And we simply cannot be constant with the fact that God's cause is not always the successful one, that we really could be "unsuccessful":  and yet be on the right road.  But this is where we find out whether we have begun in faith or in a burst of enthusiasm.

 

This is an excerpt from a letter Bonhoeffer wrote in 1938, expressing his frustration with the fact that some other leaders of the Confessing Church (which had been established to preserve authentic Christian beliefs in the face of efforts to "nazify" the German "Christian Church") were failing to stand firm against the growing pressure of the Nazi regime.  This passage spoke to me as a powerful challenge in two primary ways. 

 

First, it is a strong exhortation to stay the course in the face of obstacles and even when the rosebush-lined path leads to a thorny bramble.  I used to have a strong conviction of this when I was a child, and I remember finding strength and peace in it.  It gave me courage to endure (somtimes lengthy) periods of tremendous pain and/or uncertainty.  My faith was truly more child-like back then.  It was mostly heart, and less accompanied by questioning eyes. 

 

I need to return to that time.  Now, when certain types of difficulties arise, I often become so weak and spiritually floppy.  I whine in my soul that God has left me alone.  I inwardly pout.  I find that I cannot join in the chorus that "never once did we ever walk alone / never once did You leave us on our own" without tears forming in my eyes, because in my self-centered and bratty state, I feel utterly alone.  In those moments, I picture myself as a young child whose face is downcast and dripping with hot, streaming tears.  Her arms are folded tightly and her back is hunched.  She can see nothing besides the blurry view of wet splotches hitting the ground.  Beside her, the child's father is patiently standing with his hand outstretched towards her.  He is there.  He has never left her.  And he remains.  She knows he is there--who can deny it?!--but she refuses to acknowledge or feel his presence.  And then she cries that her father has left her alone to fend for herself.  It is all childish nonsense.  That's me sometimes.  It does Him no honor.

 

Second, I am reminded that difficulties and hardships do not necessarily indicate that we are on the wrong path.  And obedience does not always lead to "success," "provision," or a "positive" outcome, as the world defines any of those terms.  We live in a disturbing age of the prosperity Gospel, where certain errant preachers teach that because we follow Jesus, He will provide a good job.  He will provide a home to live in.  He will provide a husband/wife.  He will provide this, that, or the other thing.  No no no no no no no.  That's not the world we live in, and that's not the bargain with Jesus.  Because we follow Jesus, yes, He will provide life eternal.  He will provide strength to withstand all temptation.  He will provide the Spirit as our inheritance.  He will be with us always, even to the ends of the earth.  Those are not the measures of earthly success, though...and that's why we can be on the correct path (i.e. following Jesus) and end up in the "wrong" circumstances.  Life with Jesus doesn't (necessarily) equal an easy life.  But a worthwhile one?  Absolutely.  Too often, we conflate the two.

 

* * *

 

It is not war that first brings death, not war that first invents the pains and torments of human bodies and souls, not war that first unleashes lies, injustice, and violence.  It is not war that first makes our existence so utterly precarious and renders human beings powerless, forcing them to watch their desires and plans being thwarted and destroyed by more "exalted powers."  But war makes all of this, which existed already apart from it and before it, vast and unavoidable to us who would gladly prefer to overlook it all.

 

Bonhoeffer wrote this in a letter to his Finkenwalde brethren in 1940, when he was pretending to pretend to be pastor under the auspices of the Abwehr (German military intelligence).  This particular passage is poignant because it calls us to remember that the genesis of war is sin, not the other way around. 

 

War is devastating, ugly, violent.  It rips apart families, communities, countries, regions.  It results in bloody messes, piles of corpses, unspeakable despair.  And yet, in a very basic spiritual sense...war is just peacetime, writ large, and drafted in highlighter for all the world to see.  Our natural sinful condition is just as present and just as destructive during peacetime.  But we are able to ignore its devastating effects because it slowly and insidiously unravels the fabric of our lives, thread by thread, instead of simply tearing gashes in the garment as during wartime.  The end effect of disintegration is the same: it's just that war forces us to look at ourselves in a way that peacetime does not.

 

* * *

 

Dear Max, You have lost your father. . . . You are still very young to be without a father.  But you have learned from him to honor the will of God in everything God gives and in everything God takes away.  You have learned from him that a person's strength comes solely from being united with the will of God. . .  In such times one must struggle through a great deal for oneself alone.  You will have to learn out there how one sometimes must come to terms with someone alone before God.  It is often very difficult, but these are the most important hours of life.

 

The war left virtually no family untouched.  This is from Bonhoeffer's letter to Max, the sister of his fiancee, Maria, following the death of their father.  The part that struck me about this part of the letter was the idea that sometimes we have to deal with God on our own.  We have to face Him alone, ask Him questions alone, hear from Him alone, wrestle with Him alone.  This goes against our (or at least my) natural inclination -- which is to turn to others for guidance, wisdom, insight, input.  But I have experienced the truth in Bonhoeffer's statement in my own life, so I definitely believe it to be true:  sometimes, we have to confront God on our own.  And it is so difficult.  And yet nothing is more important.