My passion

What is your passion? Is it cars? Chocolate? College football? Golf? Music?

Hmmm..as I make out my hypothetical list, it seems easier to identify outside interests that are typically male-dominated (except for the chocolate, of course!) than those that are usually pursued by women. Why is that?

So what are women passionate about? Their children? Their grandchildren? Gardening? Cooking? Sewing? I don't recall hearing women frequently using the phrase, "I'm passionate..." about their hobbies or even their relationships. A certain food or a particular place, maybe.
And yet, in conversations, in everyday dramas, women speak and act very passionately about a great many things.

So I ask myself (since I am a woman) what am I passionate about? To answer this, I must consider more than emotion or attachment. Rather, I must ask, What stirs me deeper than anything else? Moves me or drives me stronger than anything else? What do I enjoy more intensely than anything else? What is life to me?

I do get passionate about my kids, but I am not obsessed with their accomplishments or achievements. Everything they do, however, is of great interest and concern to me. They are a chosen priority. I am never neutral or disinterested in any aspect of their lives.
I must admit some passion for my own personal achievement. Continued growth, learning, accomplishment.
I can get passionate about really fine chocolate. An excellent cup of coffee. Real Italian gelato. The Grand Teton Mountains. Italy.
I love music! Anything I do is always made better by music. Housework is tolerable, if the radio or CD is playing. My worship is enhanced by musical expression.

And that leads me to my spiritual passion. Truly, none of my other passions would have any satisfaction without a passionate relationship with God. My children's lives would have little hope or significance. Personal achievement is shallow without eternal purpose. Pleasures found in this brief earthly existence can only whet the appetite for the perfection of heaven; the satisfaction and enjoyment they provide is so brief, so fleeting.

Although there are times when my words, my actions, and my fickle emotions betray me, the deepest and truest passion of my heart is experiencing the living presence of Jesus Christ with me, in me, and through me.
Nothing else really matters. Nothing else is worth living for. I have nothing to offer anyone apart from Christ living through me. I have no hope or value, apart from the hope I have in Jesus Christ and the value He placed on me when he died for me.
With Him, I have everything. I have purpose. Protection. Blessing. Significance. Favored position. Inheritance. Unconditional love. Freedom from condemnation and judgment. Power to live in freedom, light, and truth.
I am more than I could ever be on my own. On my best day. Or my worst. No, with Christ, my life is no longer characterized by the best I have to offer or by my most miserable failures: my life is hid with Christ in God. It is His best that I have now and forevermore.

And that beats any other passion, any day of the week, any place on the earth, any lifetime of experiences, accomplishments, and thrills.

****
What are you passionate about? I really would like to know!

Free Fall

They called it the "Pamper Pole." And I was secretly afraid that this high element ropes course challenge would truly be so terrifying that we would all uncontrollably wet our pants. I even thought that wearing a Depends would be part of the required gear.

The point of the challenge is to expose your fears and give you a safe, risk-reduced environment to confront those fears. If you are willing, it usually works. You leave the experience with a confidence that can only come from exposing, confronting, and overcoming those fears.

You wear a cabled harness (no Depends) and climb unassisted 30 feet up a telephone pole. The climbing part was relatively easy--I loved climbing trees in my tomboy years. However, positioning yourself to stand on the top of the pole with nothing to hang on to was not. I began to fear that I would fall--that I would fail before even reaching the top!

Your goal is to stand on top of the pole, proclaim your fear or your deepest desire to the rest of the group, and then leap toward a trapeze-type bar suspended in front of you from which you would let go and be lowered to the ground.

Technically, you cannot fall because you are attached by harness to a steel cable more than adequate to support your weight. But try telling your heart! The cable is attached to the back of your harness--you cannot see it. And you know that it is the thread of life...or death.

The top of the pole is incredibly small in diameter. Just enough room for feet. When I finally was able to stand up straight on top of it, I felt exhileration and relief!

Until I saw how far away the trapeze bar was.

My goal was unachievable. That is a devastating thought for me! Work this hard and overcome significant challenge only to learn that my goal is beyond my reach, beyond my capability.

Yes, the instructor confirmed, most women do not actually reach the bar when they jump.

I did not like that answer very much.

Some men don't either, he adds.

Okay, as long as the task isn't sexist.

I do not consider myself a huge risk-taker; however, I am not one to just sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of the world go by. I would jump even if I did not reach the bar.

I proclaimed my fears and desires (which shall remain in that moment) and...finally...leaped off the pole. It was like jumping off a short cliff or out of a low flying airplane. For a brief moment I was free-falling. Then boink! My feet caught the pole as the cable slowed my descent into an arc. My emphathetic comrades cried, cheered, and applauded. My husband, who had climbed the pole just before me, embraced me.

I will never forget that experience of almost seven years ago. And I was reminded of it this week as I confronted my fear of possibly never realizing my dreams or my potential. I was drawn by the Spirit of God to free fall into the love of God and into the unknown void of my future.

And today, as I journeyed spiritually with Brennan Manning's Ragamuffin Gospel, I was led to this verse in Psalm 139: "You (God) chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment you know where I am" (vs. 3, NLV).

It is the start of studying 19 of the mercies of God--part of a 2005 postscript addition to Brennan's original 1990 text. And it was just what I needed to hear today.

Summer Reading

I have been spending the summer with Henri Nouwen. With his writings that is. One of the great spiritual writers of modern times, he was a dearly loved and respected priest who touched many lives with his devotion to God and others.

Over and over, his words bring me back to the core of my spirituality: intimacy with Christ and the generous giving of my self to others.

In spite of so many apparent differences (age, denomination, gender, nationality, calling), I have discovered several places of spiritual connection. Like me, he would rather be busy than to sit quietly and meditate. But he also feared wasting his life on what may be eternally insignificant. He knew the prestige of a professorship at Harvard and Yale, but chose to minister among the mentally disabled in Toronto. Described by a friend as a "restless man of great depth and vulnerability", Henri was never content with a static relationship with His God.

I have benefited greatly from his recorded spiritual journey. Here are a few selections from the book The Heart of Henri Nouwen: His Words of Blessing, edited by Rebecca Laird and Michael J. Christensen.

"Prayer is the discipline of the moment. When we pray, we enter into the presence of God whose name is God-with-us."

"To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer. It is more than a word of praise or appreciation; it is more than pointing out someone's talents or good deeds...To give a blessing is to affirm, to say 'yes' to a person's Belovedness."

"First of all, our life itself is the greatest gift to give--something we constantly forget... The real question is not 'What can we offer each other?' but 'Who can we be for each other?...When I ask myself, 'Who helps me the most?' I must answer, 'The one who is willing to share his or her life with me.'"

"God and only God knows us in our essence, loves us well, forgives us fully, and remembers us for who we truly are."

If you would like some encouragement and guidance on your spiritual journey, visit the web site of my friend Deborah Brunt (www.keytruths.com) and sign up for her newsletter Perspectives.

Live it Up! Learning to laugh.

...or to chill (translation: "not be so stressed out about everything"), as my teen daughter advised me at the beginning of our family vacation to North Carolina the week of July 4th. I have family there near the coast, and many of my mother's siblings and children travelled in from the midwest for a mini-family reunion.

It didn't take long for our fun to be both tested and stimulated.

My aunt lives by a small lake, known as White Lake for its white sandy bottom and shallow depths. The lake is usually pristine, and our last reunion there five years ago was mostly spent basking for hours in its cool and gentle waters.

When we arrived there Monday, the air was hot and humid--typical July weather for southeastern North Carolina. Our cousins were already in the water, so we eagerly walked down to check things out. And yes, there they were. My cousin from Utah, Little Joe, with his two young children bobbing in their floats and enjoying the lake with my sister and her daughter--all toddlers, wet and smiling in the...wait, that's green water, not clear water.
Gross! What's happened to the water?

All the activity--jetskis, boats, crowded docks--of the holiday weekend had churned up large amounts of algae that had collected on the shallow bottom.

But the little ones already in the water beamed and gurgled affably, unaffected by the seaweedy substances that clung to their legs and swimsuits.
"Come on in--the water's fine!" encouraged Little Joe.

And with that, our fun-filled week began. Once we overcame the greenness of the water (not as bad in the slightly deeper parts as in the very shallow), cheery splashes and gleeful tosses of the water set off peals of laughter that carried over into ice cube chases in the house and water gun battles between cousins who were virtual strangers just hours earlier.

We lived. We loved. And we laughed.

God, make a way!

It's been four days since surgery on my right wrist to remove a six inch plate and six troublesome screws. I am typing ever so gingerly while wearing a cumbersome brace, but my six inch long incision is healing nicely. Looks frightfully like the arm of Frankenstein to me!

As I was praying this morning, the Holy Spirit who helps us pray gave me this thought for so many requests: when it is God's will, He always makes a way. And He welcomes our requests to make a way for us, for our families, for our friends.

Our church is seeking 13.8 million dollars to acquire a school facility for the Christian day school. If it is God's will, then He will have to make a way--we cannot. For more details, go to www.berrypassingthetorch.com . And we are asking: God, make a way.

I wanted to write and garden and work on projects this summer, but my hand is minimally functional. God, please, make a way.

I need a job for the fall. Make a way.

My friend's (Cindy) mom has cancer. So does my neighbor Kathy. God, make a way.

Mark and Marge want to serve you in Costa Rica. Make a way.

How He will or what He wills in each situation, I do not know. But I do know is that when it IS His will, He makes a way. He makes a path through the wilderness. He provides streams in the desert. Manna from heaven. Water from a rock. Resurrection out of crucifixion. Pauls are made out of Sauls. Blind men can see. And captives go free!

What is your obstacle? Your struggle? Your insurmountable circumstance? Pray, trusting in His perfect will, that God will make a way.

Mechanical Irritations: Remove the hardware!

The hardware in my right arm, consisting of a six inch steel plate and six screws, has to come out on Monday, June 26, 2006. After six years of holding my little arm together after a fracture, the plate and screws now cause more harm than good. What began as an aid to my recovery, an assistance to my renewed functioning, now hinders and limits me.

It is time to move on--without the hardware. Life is like that. When something or someone is instrumental in helping us to heal or holding us together while we heal, we tend to hang on long after the healing is complete. Perhaps we fear that without that person or thing, we will fall apart. That we are not completely healed. We forget that the aid is a tool; a tool is an instrument that assists the healing, but does not do the healing.

I used to think that the screws held my bone in place. For a time, it did. But the bone is now stable. It has grown back together, and now the plate and the screws are an impediment. They keep me from moving on and doing what God has called me to do.

If the tool that helped you heal is a person, the great news is that you can still love and be loved by that person. But for you and that relationship to grow, you have to let go. For a while, you cling to that friend for dear life. And after the crisis is over, you enjoy a close kinship. But let that friend go. The separation will be painful. Some therapy may be required. But greater healing and usefulness is ahead.

I've experienced that with friendships. I am counting on that for my arm!

Our Victor Emmanuel: Rome fallen, Rome redeemed

Throughout this summer, I want to reflect on our trip to Italy: what we saw there, what moved us, what has stayed with us since our return home. And show you some of the pictures!

Our trip began in Rome-glorious, ancient Rome! It was...expansive. Fast-paced. The people were ... elegant. Well-dressed. Proud. Rome is a large metropolis without skyscrapers. Its architecture grand, whether understated in its classicism or over-stated in its exclamation.

Our first stop in our self-guided-buy a bus ticket and hop on the #64 - tour was the Piazza Venezia. I read that if all roads lead to Rome, then this is the intersection for them all. It is overlooked by the Vittoria Monument which celebrates Victor Emmanuel II of Savoy who unified Italy in 1871, becoming Italy's first democratic king. And in a word, its redeemer.

This is a view from behind the monument, also known as The Typewriter. The area in the foreground is actually part of the ancient ruins of the Roman Forum. But before I proceed to a blog on the ancient ruins, I wanted to reflect on the magnificence of Rome and the triumph of unity that took so long to come to Italy after the Empire fell.

In its grandeur and glory, both past and present, Rome stands tall and proud. The city does not lie dormant in the shadow of its history; Rome still reaches upward to make a shadow that the rest of the world can fade into. But only in Italy, I think. I admire her spirit, her beauty. I respect her dignity and awe at the wonder of what she was and still is today.

Why did she fall? Why did it take hundreds of years to unify a country with mutual bonds of religion, cultural heritage, and hated oppressors. According to the historians, the cities warred among themselves, fueled by an insatiable lust for supremacy and power that would crush and humiliate its neighbors. Neighbors who would have been helpful allies against foreign invaders, if alliances had been sought.

The pride of Rome, of Florence, and of Siena built walls and towers of isolation that crumbled beneath enemy threats. One guide book stated that Romans are somewhat embarrassed by the Vittoriano monument, also known as the Republic Memorial. Is it because it is a reminder of the necessary humility of mutual dependency? That the Holy Roman Empire's pride became its downfall?

For me, it is a reminder not to build walls and towers of isolation from my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. That the pride that elevates my accomplishments crushes my connection with the body of believers by stifling the tender spirit of Christ within. My enemy will certainly assault me, and I am no match for him alone. I may piously state my dependence on Jesus Christ alone, but the truth is that He dwells in my fellow believers and works through them to meet my needs, strengthen my faith, and secure the victories that are promised through faith in Him.

My Victor Emmanuel is Jesus, and He secured my freedom and victory on the cross. I became a little stone in the house/kingdom He is building on July 2, 1970, when I was just five years old.

Ephesians 2: 20-21 says, "We are his house, built on the foundation of the apostles and the prophets. And the cornerstone is Christ Jesus himself. We who believe are carefully joined together, becoming a holy temple for the Lord." (NLV)

Minor Tendonitis!!!

Minor Tendonitis! That's what I have in my right wrist, I found out Monday. Well, I'm grateful that's all it is, and look forward to being pain-free soon! No more aches in my wrist after writing or typing briefly. No more shooting, burning pain up my pinkie finger if I move my hand wrong.

But to tell you the truth, I was wondering a few weeks ago if God had a real twisted sense of humor, and I nearly got depressed about it.

You see, I like to be busy and I was looking forward to my first leisurely summer in, well, years. Graduate school behind me. Two teenage children working at the church's day camp all summer. Sigh! All this time and no obligations.

Now my busy time would be optional! All the things I have put off doing or didn't have time to do that I actually enjoy. Perhaps I could really begin to write again. Resume the prose I began six years ago before the horseback riding accident that snapped the bone below my wrist and mangled my knee.

I could also finally spend some significant time in my yard, grooming...no, rescuing a neglected backyard and cultivating some new flower beds.

But then it happened: while I was in Italy, too! Beautiful, blissful Italy! Halfway into our vacation, I twisted some handwashables and something inside my wrist twisted as well. And three weeks later, I finally learn that I had aggravated my old injury, creating tendonitis in my wrist.

Anticipation, bliss, then tendonitis. What a disappointment! Half of my summer will be spent nursing an injury just annoying enough to limit my two most anticipated summer activities: gardening and writing!

Back to the inevitable question: why? What is a good God's purpose in this? His reply to me has been simply to sit and wait. Sit and wait for a instructorship position. Sit and wait for healing. Not be filled with activity. Not be consumed by replacing one busy schedule with another.

Sit and wait in quietness and solitude for His voice and His felt presence.
Sit and wait and listen.

I'll keep you posted. :)

Our first evening in Tuscany: Dinner in Certaldo Alto

Here I am sitting on the castle wall of Certaldo Alto, the medieval town that sits above the modern town of Certaldo, between Siena and Florence in Tuscany. There are still residents living inside these ancient fortified walls.

Mostly, however, the town consists of restaurants and artists, as well as a museum of the Governor's Palace.

We ate at the Ristorante Il Castello (on the far end behind me) that evening, enjoying our first bowl of Ribollita, a typical rustic Tuscan soup. I dined on a sampler platter of grilled meats: chicken, sausage, pork, and lamb. Very tasty! We also had a side of lightly fried vegetables (artichokes and zucchini). It was the best meal we had had in Italy thus far, and the first of several unforgettable dining delights in Tuscany.

Towers in Tuscany

On a recent trip to Italy, my husband and I stayed in a Tuscan villa, complete with medieval tower. Overlooking the town of Certaldo, the Villa il Pozzo vineyards and groves have produced olives and a Super Tuscan red wine named Luia.










The second tower is as viewed from our room--a watchtower. Not as old as the original medieval tower around front, but not yesterday's construction either.

Multiple towers were common sights in and around Tuscany, including Sienna and Florence. One small hill town nearby, San Gimignano, is known for its towers. Fourteen of the original sixty remain!







I learned in Florence--in Dante's house--that each family of distinction (complete with coat of arms) had its own personal tower inside the city walls. Why? Because the rivalry among families inside the city was fierce. Having a tower was having your own personal castle, your place of refuge from the attack of an enemy.

In America, we lock our doors at night and sometimes install security systems. But I know of no such refuge towers in any of the neighborhoods I have lived in growing up along the eastern coast. And yet, we sing "tower of refuge and strength" ("Shout to the Lord"). Maybe it is because towers in America are impressive--think Donald Trump or the Twin Towers attacked on 9/11.

Jesus is a tower of refuge and strength: both in the ancient medieval sense of the word and in today's contemporary rhetoric of power.

When all the world seems against me and I feel weak and small, there is a tower to run and find safety in. A place of strength for my protection. A banner above to which I belong.

Dolce Vita en Christo!

Milkshake celebrations!

Thesis defense: Tuesday, April 4
My digital dilemma this week was the culmination of two years of graduate work studying the linearity and nonlinearity of digital composition. One hundred pages later, I sat down in front of four committee members, the department dean, and the director of graduate studies at UAB to discuss my study. To defend my thesis. It went extremely well.

My celebration: a hand-scooped chocolate milkshake from Hardee's! Cold, creamy, topped with the white fluffy stuff. The best ever! What can chocolate not make better!?!

When I finally got home and sat down, I felt like I had been hit by a Mac truck! Whew!

I must need another milkshake! :)

My Kids, My Space, and Facebook

Today's dilemma:
I am wondering about Facebook and MySpace. Are they safe? It sounds like fun, but a little scary. Supposedly, you can block people and select what friends can see your profile. But do teens have enough discernment to detect danger before it happens?

Digital relationships can seem safe, even innocent. But I've known adults who have fallen prey to "innocent" relationships that started online and then went somewhere they didn't expect.

And how is this blog any different? Maybe only in that Facebook gets read daily by thousands of students!
I like the idea overall. I guess it bothers me that I can't get into my child's profile without a password! So far, I dont' have a reason not to trust her, but can I trust the rest of the world!?!

Is there intelligent life on earth...

Is there intelligent life on earth? When life has you running like a gerbil on an exercise wheel, racing forward, but never getting anywhere. When part of the planet is fighting obesity and another starvation. Well, it can really make you wonder.

It's not to say people are unintelligent. We earthlings are very sophisticated, "worldly-wise" through our global internet access. Advances in medical technology are phenomenal. And our kids are learning stuff in middle school that we weren't taught in college just a few (?) years ago.

Certainly the quality of our lives is greatly improved over that of our parents or grandparents, isn't it? Or is it? As a forty-one year old (on the cusp between baby boomer and gen-xer, I have witnessed, as perhaps you have, many casualties lost along the way to achievement.

We are a workaholic generation, addicted to prosperity. But gorged as we are with material success, our relational lives are often a wreck.



And what about our spiritual lives? Have we gained the whole world, only to lose our soul?

So I ask you, is there intelligent life on earth? Perhaps. Maybe it is wisdom we are lacking: that divinely inspired gift of knowing how to apply our intelligence to our unique set of circumstances.

Today's drama: just how smart am I? How smart are we as a society?
Intelligence without wisdom...it just looks like foolishness to me.

My hope is built...

What do you hope for? What gives you hope?

As the drama of my life unfolds each day, sometimes from quiet slumbers and sometimes from fitful dreams, I may have time to ponder what I hope the day will hold. But often, I just wake up, try to normalize my day through the comforting rituals of a hot shower, coffee, and muscle stretch before departing for carpool at two different schools.

Did you pack your lunch? Are you wearing a jacket, because it's cold outside today! Did all three of the dogs get outside this morning? Oh yeah--that's another part of the morning ritual that keeps me from getting any extra beauty sleep on the weekends. Why can't dogs come with snooze buttons!

After carpool, I stop by my house for one more cup of coffee and ten minutes on my stationary bicycle while I read my Bible and pray. Ten minutes is not alot. But it is better than nothing. And the dialogue I begin with God often continues in the car as I commute to the university I attend. At this pace, I am able to read the entire Bible in two years. I am on my second read.

My hope is in this. That each and every day, my wise and loving Heavenly Father has a divine plan for me. His Spirit is present to guide me. And no failure of mine is too great to exceed His grace and His ability to work out "all things" for my good and His glory.

What is the drama of your life?

What is the drama of your life? What drama (or dilemma) has everything digital created for you? That is our opening overture.

My daily drama can be anything from meeting a writing deadline for my graduate thesis to a friend learning she may have throat cancer to a last minute school project (I have three school age kids) involving food the very week I have jury duty!

Bottom line, I am a wife, mother, composition instructor, and a full-time graduate student. In addition to three children (two are teens), I have three dog children whom I adore: Baron, Brandy, and Jazzy (dachshunds).

The digital world is new to me, but I believe I am too young to become an old fuddy-duddy who is behind the times.

That is my journey and I invite you to join me.

By the way, I am also on a spiritual journey, so my blogs will be faith-based from time to time. I hope you will be blessed by my expressions of faith. I do not intend to preach. :)

beckdunk