Mary loved birthdays more than anyone I know. She would plan extravagant celebrations which usually included her friends going on some adventure with her. She preferred belated birthday gifts because they made the celebration last longer for her. Some of the most memorable days she planned included llama trekking, a murder mystery evening, and a trip to Santa Fe for her 40th.
As someone who never celebrated birthdays as a child, I found Mary's delight in birthdays rather fascinating. I found it strange that she got excited about wrapping paper--she had an entire drawer dedicated to beautiful and interesting papers and ribbons. It was important to Mary to wrap things beautifully, and she always admired her friend Julia's sense of style when it came to gift-wrapping. I was intrigued by the way she made sure people knew her birthday was important to her and that she wanted to celebrate with them. I loved that she created adventures for herself and was bold enough to ask others to join her. She never lost that child-like excitement for celebration. It wasn't a self-centered excitement, it was a celebration of friendship and thankfulness for the gift of life.
One year...I think it was the year after Macy was born...I forgot Mary's birthday. I called her the next day for a chat and she made mention of getting together with some friends the day before. The penny didn't drop quickly for me, and so she added, "You know, for my birthday." I was profusely apologetic, and she graciously replied with a tinge of sadness, "Don't worry, you've never forgotten before." And believe you me, I never forgot again. Not because I didn't want her to be upset, but because when someone you love loves something as much as Mary loved birthdays, it's hard not to join in the fuss.
Her glee didn't stop at birthdays. Mary was a giver. She liked to pick out unique tokens of her affection. For our wedding, she chose four mismatched bud vases for Tim and me because she loved having flowers around the house and thought I would enjoy doing the same. She gave Cerys a hand-knitted strawberry hat when she was born and baked me my favorite chocolate cake. She gave me a little yellow picture frame to commemorate our trip to Cornwall. When I was about to give birth to Addien, she organised a few friends to send me gifts and letters...a shower in a box...to celebrate the birth. The list could go on and on. It seems as I look around my house that many of my favorite things came from Mary or from her influence.
Tomorrow is Mary's birthday. Facebook will at some point kindly remind me that I should post on her wall to wish her a happy birthday. I will not write on her wall because it feels too mystical...to write on her wall feels like writing to a ghost, and I am all too sure that she is not hanging around here. I don't know what she's doing, whether she is lifeless and waiting for a resurrection after the apocalypse, or whether she is partying in heaven, gardening and chatting with her dad and the Bronte sisters. But I know she is not here. I am not to the place yet that I can fondly remember Mary tomorrow and be thankful for all she contributed to my world. There will be some of that, maybe even a lot of that, depending on how I feel when I wake. But there will most certainly be heartache, as I wonder how on earth she can be gone--it still doesn't seem possible that a healthy, vibrant, 40-something woman can wind up in hospital one day and be dead two weeks later.
My grandfather always ended any suggestion of the future with "God-willing". "See you tomorrow, God-willing." "We're going to Texas for our holiday, God-willing." He lived with a deep sense of life's frailty that I have always known to be real and true, and yet, I was rocked when brought face-to-face with its certainty.
Tomorrow, God-willing, I will grieve, and I will celebrate, and I will eat chocolate digestives, and I will remember Mary Marshall.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Mary, part 2 (or How I Came to Love Food and Entertaining)
I have to give credit for my parents first and foremost for my love of food and of entertaining. They are both true foodies and know how to throw a mean party. However, Mary loved food more than just about anyone I know, and as roommates and then neighbours, we shared recipes and hosted some great shindigs.
Funnily enough, when I logged into Blogger this evening, Mary's last blog post randomly popped up on my homepage. Read it here and notice how many times she mentions food and drink. There is other beautiful content as well, mind, but the woman loved ice, diet coke, and great food.
When I was cooking for Christmas this year it seemed that almost every recipe I made was given to me by Mary. My curried cheese pate, white chocolate covered pretzels with m&ms sprinkled on, buttermilk chocolate sheet cake and chocolate mint brownies are all hers, and she is responsible for my love of cosmopolitans, feta cheese on everything and red leicester cheese with digestives. She would smile if she knew that the buttermilk chocolate cake is now the favourite birthday cake of several of my friends and their friends' friends.
Mary loved to entertain. We hosted a Christmas party every year which involved getting our guests to bring specific dishes chosen by Mary (I've never met anyone so able and willing to get people to do what she wanted them to do whilst still being incredibly loveable). I had never heard of a Parker House roll before meeting her, and I was sent to find them for our first party. It had to be Parker House rolls, nothing else would do, and then we filled them with tinned ham and cheese and brushed them with some sort of mustard sauce. They were amazing, I admit it.
Mary was all about the finishing touches...flowers, the right platters and serving utensils, music, candles...she knew how to create an atmosphere. I never caught the knack, but I remember the way she knew just where she wanted things to go, how she wanted people to feel, what she wanted them to smell when they walked through the door. She had an eclectic sense of taste, leaning towards shabby chic with an international and homemade flair, and she brought it all together with elegance and warmth. I loved being at home with her, and other people must have felt the same because we attracted loads of people to our little abode.
When we lived next door to each other we celebrated Easter together on several occasions. Twice she convinced me to spend an outrageous sum of money on brunch at a local hotel. Mary was like that--she'd spend money on experiences without a thought for the cost. This is something I always chastised her for, but in retrospect I think she lived life so fully and so enthusiastically that she did more in her 43 years than most of us can hope to do if we live to 100. The brunch was magnificent. I can still remember vividly the beautiful display, the table where we sat, the omelet and waffle stations, and the wonderful array of salads and desserts. Another year we firmly insisted that we couldn't afford dinner out, so we brought a very tiny Cerys to hers and ate lamb with a fresh mint aioli. I'd found the recipe in the Washington Post food section, another experience to which she had introduced me--she faithfully bought the Saturday paper and cut out recipes she intended to try. I specifically remember her cooking a fresh sea bass filet over greens one week night in our home on Idylwood Drive.
When Mary was sick and in hospital, I was trying to explain to my girls why I was so sad, and I told them that my very dear friend was very ill and possibly dying. Cerys remembered Mary well, but the other two were not so sure. Cerys said to them, "Remember, she's the one who came and ate all our ice." It's true. Mary loved her ice water, and she had just been to Sierra Leone where ice was truly a luxury. So she came to ours and guzzled ice, enjoyed curries and my home cooked meals, and blessed our home with her presence for the last time.
I find it strangely comforting to think Mary will live on in my memory every time I make one of her decadent treats.
Funnily enough, when I logged into Blogger this evening, Mary's last blog post randomly popped up on my homepage. Read it here and notice how many times she mentions food and drink. There is other beautiful content as well, mind, but the woman loved ice, diet coke, and great food.
When I was cooking for Christmas this year it seemed that almost every recipe I made was given to me by Mary. My curried cheese pate, white chocolate covered pretzels with m&ms sprinkled on, buttermilk chocolate sheet cake and chocolate mint brownies are all hers, and she is responsible for my love of cosmopolitans, feta cheese on everything and red leicester cheese with digestives. She would smile if she knew that the buttermilk chocolate cake is now the favourite birthday cake of several of my friends and their friends' friends.
Mary loved to entertain. We hosted a Christmas party every year which involved getting our guests to bring specific dishes chosen by Mary (I've never met anyone so able and willing to get people to do what she wanted them to do whilst still being incredibly loveable). I had never heard of a Parker House roll before meeting her, and I was sent to find them for our first party. It had to be Parker House rolls, nothing else would do, and then we filled them with tinned ham and cheese and brushed them with some sort of mustard sauce. They were amazing, I admit it.
Mary was all about the finishing touches...flowers, the right platters and serving utensils, music, candles...she knew how to create an atmosphere. I never caught the knack, but I remember the way she knew just where she wanted things to go, how she wanted people to feel, what she wanted them to smell when they walked through the door. She had an eclectic sense of taste, leaning towards shabby chic with an international and homemade flair, and she brought it all together with elegance and warmth. I loved being at home with her, and other people must have felt the same because we attracted loads of people to our little abode.
When we lived next door to each other we celebrated Easter together on several occasions. Twice she convinced me to spend an outrageous sum of money on brunch at a local hotel. Mary was like that--she'd spend money on experiences without a thought for the cost. This is something I always chastised her for, but in retrospect I think she lived life so fully and so enthusiastically that she did more in her 43 years than most of us can hope to do if we live to 100. The brunch was magnificent. I can still remember vividly the beautiful display, the table where we sat, the omelet and waffle stations, and the wonderful array of salads and desserts. Another year we firmly insisted that we couldn't afford dinner out, so we brought a very tiny Cerys to hers and ate lamb with a fresh mint aioli. I'd found the recipe in the Washington Post food section, another experience to which she had introduced me--she faithfully bought the Saturday paper and cut out recipes she intended to try. I specifically remember her cooking a fresh sea bass filet over greens one week night in our home on Idylwood Drive.
When Mary was sick and in hospital, I was trying to explain to my girls why I was so sad, and I told them that my very dear friend was very ill and possibly dying. Cerys remembered Mary well, but the other two were not so sure. Cerys said to them, "Remember, she's the one who came and ate all our ice." It's true. Mary loved her ice water, and she had just been to Sierra Leone where ice was truly a luxury. So she came to ours and guzzled ice, enjoyed curries and my home cooked meals, and blessed our home with her presence for the last time.
I find it strangely comforting to think Mary will live on in my memory every time I make one of her decadent treats.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Mary, part 1 (or How I Met My Soul Sister)
Mary's mom, Edith, asked me to write to her about Mary--our story and what she meant to me. And so the blog is back in business for now as I seek to compose a memorial that will do Mary justice.
It is a daunting task to chronicle 13 years of friendship at any time, and in the depths of grief, it feels monumental. However, I am hoping that in the writing will come some healing, and that in this space I will find freedom to reflect and remember and cry and laugh and ultimately enjoy and give thanks for the gift of true friendship.
I moved into Mary's rented house on April 1, 1999. She was away at her brother's wedding, and so I settled into an empty and absolutely FREEZING house. Mary was from Cape Cod, and she didn't believe in keeping the heating above 60, so I became accustomed to wrapping up in blankets and wearing gloves inside when we lived together. I don't remember much about our first meeting, but I remember feeling fairly stressed for the first few months we lived together. This was due in part because Mary was THE lightest sleeper ever created by God and was very particular about keeping noise down after 10:00. As a 19-year-old girl working odd hours, this was not ideal for me. Mary was an amazing English teacher, and she never gave easy multiple-choice tests, so she was forever grading essays in front of Law and Order. She was tired and counting down the days until summer break.
The first real interaction I remember with Mary was when she invited me to spend the day at the local pool with her one hot summer day. All of a sudden this stressed-out teacher turned into a fun-loving soul who wanted my company. I was trepidatious at first, not being one to dive into new experiences (pun gleefully intended--Mary would be trying not to laugh and rolling her eyes right now--fantastic), but she convinced me to come, and it really was the start of a beautiful friendship. We spent tons of time together that summer, and even though there was a 10-year difference in age, we got along wonderfully. She introduced me to all her favourite restaurants, (Anthony's, Burrito Brothers, and Tara Thai, to name a few) and made me go on hideously long and brisk walks with her (her legs had to have been at least three inches longer than mine, and I always got shin splints trying to keep up with her mad pace). We shared our family histories, cried with each other upon receiving bad news, sympathised over sibling dramas, hosted dinner parties, fought over whether cleaning the kitchen should include washing the walls (I am fairly certain she won that one and that the walls were included), scrapbooked, and truly became like sisters. Only living under the same roof and seeing someone in their true form can create space for that sort of closeness, that true acceptance and love for someone, having seen them at their best, worst and all the in-between times of just being.
During the two and a half years we lived together, Mary introduced me to the idea of co-dependency, of healing prayer, of talking to Jesus about everything, not just the big stuff but all the everyday stuff too. She encouraged me to get counselling when I wasn't coping with my parent's divorce. She prayed for me and got others to pray, too, when she knew I was up to no good. Her eyebrows raised knowingly when I'd try to sneak in unnoticed after a night out. Mary never lectured, but her very being rang out conviction and emanated grace. She was a God-sent beacon for me in the darkest time of my life, when I was looking for love, for acceptance, for truth, Mary was a faithful friend and mentor to me, never wavering in her insistence that Jesus longed for me.
It is a daunting task to chronicle 13 years of friendship at any time, and in the depths of grief, it feels monumental. However, I am hoping that in the writing will come some healing, and that in this space I will find freedom to reflect and remember and cry and laugh and ultimately enjoy and give thanks for the gift of true friendship.
I moved into Mary's rented house on April 1, 1999. She was away at her brother's wedding, and so I settled into an empty and absolutely FREEZING house. Mary was from Cape Cod, and she didn't believe in keeping the heating above 60, so I became accustomed to wrapping up in blankets and wearing gloves inside when we lived together. I don't remember much about our first meeting, but I remember feeling fairly stressed for the first few months we lived together. This was due in part because Mary was THE lightest sleeper ever created by God and was very particular about keeping noise down after 10:00. As a 19-year-old girl working odd hours, this was not ideal for me. Mary was an amazing English teacher, and she never gave easy multiple-choice tests, so she was forever grading essays in front of Law and Order. She was tired and counting down the days until summer break.
The first real interaction I remember with Mary was when she invited me to spend the day at the local pool with her one hot summer day. All of a sudden this stressed-out teacher turned into a fun-loving soul who wanted my company. I was trepidatious at first, not being one to dive into new experiences (pun gleefully intended--Mary would be trying not to laugh and rolling her eyes right now--fantastic), but she convinced me to come, and it really was the start of a beautiful friendship. We spent tons of time together that summer, and even though there was a 10-year difference in age, we got along wonderfully. She introduced me to all her favourite restaurants, (Anthony's, Burrito Brothers, and Tara Thai, to name a few) and made me go on hideously long and brisk walks with her (her legs had to have been at least three inches longer than mine, and I always got shin splints trying to keep up with her mad pace). We shared our family histories, cried with each other upon receiving bad news, sympathised over sibling dramas, hosted dinner parties, fought over whether cleaning the kitchen should include washing the walls (I am fairly certain she won that one and that the walls were included), scrapbooked, and truly became like sisters. Only living under the same roof and seeing someone in their true form can create space for that sort of closeness, that true acceptance and love for someone, having seen them at their best, worst and all the in-between times of just being.
During the two and a half years we lived together, Mary introduced me to the idea of co-dependency, of healing prayer, of talking to Jesus about everything, not just the big stuff but all the everyday stuff too. She encouraged me to get counselling when I wasn't coping with my parent's divorce. She prayed for me and got others to pray, too, when she knew I was up to no good. Her eyebrows raised knowingly when I'd try to sneak in unnoticed after a night out. Mary never lectured, but her very being rang out conviction and emanated grace. She was a God-sent beacon for me in the darkest time of my life, when I was looking for love, for acceptance, for truth, Mary was a faithful friend and mentor to me, never wavering in her insistence that Jesus longed for me.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
I know the plans I had
I got a job.
Fifteen hours a week over three days, so I can always drop off and pick up the kids from school. Working at Family Matters Institute as an administrative assistant, I'll be with some fun and intelligent friends who are working to help families through training and the Dad Talk website. As an added bonus, I'll get to see Faith Dwight on a fairly regular basis.
So, never mind the hours of time to focus on getting a repertoire together for my market stall. Goodbye to all the sewing projects I had planned. The coat of paint for the house will have to wait a bit longer, and meals are going to become an exercise in simplicity. But I've never heard of a more perfect job, one that I was sought out to do, is term-time only, is in one of my fields of interest, and is with one fabulous group of folk.
If there was ever a time I felt Proverbs 16:9 to be true, it is now.
Fifteen hours a week over three days, so I can always drop off and pick up the kids from school. Working at Family Matters Institute as an administrative assistant, I'll be with some fun and intelligent friends who are working to help families through training and the Dad Talk website. As an added bonus, I'll get to see Faith Dwight on a fairly regular basis.
So, never mind the hours of time to focus on getting a repertoire together for my market stall. Goodbye to all the sewing projects I had planned. The coat of paint for the house will have to wait a bit longer, and meals are going to become an exercise in simplicity. But I've never heard of a more perfect job, one that I was sought out to do, is term-time only, is in one of my fields of interest, and is with one fabulous group of folk.
If there was ever a time I felt Proverbs 16:9 to be true, it is now.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
A tribute to mom
My mother has the most gorgeous smile on the planet. It's a smile that can make everything better. It takes away fear, it inspires the best in me, it reminds me that I am loved.
I did a double-take when I saw this picture because in it I saw my mother's smile, and I was thankful that she passed on one of her greatest traits to me.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
A new day
It's been a year and three days since my last post.
I thought I was going to give the blog up altogether, but I just can't seem to let go completely. Part of my problem is what I like to refer to as Jo March syndrome. Like her, I should have been a great many things. And I'm still trying to narrow down my interests to a manageable mix of fun and mentally stimulating activities that perhaps may one day turn into a living.
My latest love is sewing. I've been making dresses, baby clothes, quilts, bags, stuffed animals, etc. I have also dabbled in gardening, baking, painting, decorating, starting a moms and tots group, and looking into finally finishing my degree (choices narrowed down to law, social work, midwifery and culinary arts). Like I said, a great many things.
Tomorrow marks the end of an era in my life. My baby girl is starting full-time education. Diapers are a thing of the past, and now so are mid-day play dates, lazy mid-week mornings, late afternoon snuggles on the sofa. I will no longer hear the phrase, "Is it time to pick up my stisters?" several times each day. In fact, I may never hear it again.
Tomorrow I will drop all three of my children off to school and start my new life as a...
If only I knew how to complete that sentence. I'm thinking perhaps it's time to start up the blog again as I figure it out.
I thought I was going to give the blog up altogether, but I just can't seem to let go completely. Part of my problem is what I like to refer to as Jo March syndrome. Like her, I should have been a great many things. And I'm still trying to narrow down my interests to a manageable mix of fun and mentally stimulating activities that perhaps may one day turn into a living.
My latest love is sewing. I've been making dresses, baby clothes, quilts, bags, stuffed animals, etc. I have also dabbled in gardening, baking, painting, decorating, starting a moms and tots group, and looking into finally finishing my degree (choices narrowed down to law, social work, midwifery and culinary arts). Like I said, a great many things.
Tomorrow marks the end of an era in my life. My baby girl is starting full-time education. Diapers are a thing of the past, and now so are mid-day play dates, lazy mid-week mornings, late afternoon snuggles on the sofa. I will no longer hear the phrase, "Is it time to pick up my stisters?" several times each day. In fact, I may never hear it again.
Tomorrow I will drop all three of my children off to school and start my new life as a...
If only I knew how to complete that sentence. I'm thinking perhaps it's time to start up the blog again as I figure it out.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Choosing sides
A birth
A death
An operation
A departure
All happened across a massive expanse
That I cannot cross today
Or tomorrow or the next
Because money and time prohibit the journey
A relatively short voyage
Will allow me to briefly partake
In the lives I'm missing on that side
But the life on this side will beckon me home
Here I laugh and love and enjoy
Grieve and commune and live
And also pine for what I can for now
Only partake of in my imagination
Across the ocean
That is deceptively vast
Lies a world I long for
But here is bounty beyond measure
Forever torn
But still choosing here
Conscious that the other world
Holds the same fate
A death
An operation
A departure
All happened across a massive expanse
That I cannot cross today
Or tomorrow or the next
Because money and time prohibit the journey
A relatively short voyage
Will allow me to briefly partake
In the lives I'm missing on that side
But the life on this side will beckon me home
Here I laugh and love and enjoy
Grieve and commune and live
And also pine for what I can for now
Only partake of in my imagination
Across the ocean
That is deceptively vast
Lies a world I long for
But here is bounty beyond measure
Forever torn
But still choosing here
Conscious that the other world
Holds the same fate
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Battle of the Bulge
I've had an ongoing battle with my weight since I hit puberty. I just love food. And wine. And I have this terrible habit of celebrating with food when I hit my weight-loss goals. Also of comforting myself with food. I knew I was a comfort eater the day my boxes arrived in England from America. The movers stacked all the boxes into the smallest room of our house, and you couldn't even walk in. The room was full floor to ceiling with boxes, a veritable mountain of boxes. Our freezer was in our back garden in a spider-infested, dimly-lit shed. I took a spoon outside, took out the Ben & Jerry's and stood there devouring the Caramel Chew Chew right from the tub until I felt strong enough to face the mountain.
I've realized this summer that not only am I sabotaging my dreams of the perfect body when I behave this way, I'm sabotaging my intimacy with God. Physical fitness and spiritual fitness cannot be separated, at least not in my world. When I choose food to give me comfort instead of letting the Comforter do his job, I become a bit fatter and a bit more deaf to God's voice, which has definitely happened this summer as I've lost all routine and all discipline!
But I took up arms again today. I went for a run, skipped my evening glass of wine, and am going to bed with my Bible instead of the trashy novel I finished last night. Let the battle begin. Again.
I've realized this summer that not only am I sabotaging my dreams of the perfect body when I behave this way, I'm sabotaging my intimacy with God. Physical fitness and spiritual fitness cannot be separated, at least not in my world. When I choose food to give me comfort instead of letting the Comforter do his job, I become a bit fatter and a bit more deaf to God's voice, which has definitely happened this summer as I've lost all routine and all discipline!
But I took up arms again today. I went for a run, skipped my evening glass of wine, and am going to bed with my Bible instead of the trashy novel I finished last night. Let the battle begin. Again.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Hearing God
I've been practicing listening to God lately, or at least trying to, and I am amazed at the subtlety and flow of his voice. Of particular note is when he told me Stacy was going to get pregnant last November when I was in DC. My friend Laurie was talking about her miracle baby, and I looked over at Stacy and just knew she was next. It wasn't a prophetic word as we might be used to. I had no intention of sharing it with anyone, and I don't really know why I got it, but when I got an e-mail a month later from Stacy asking me to ring her, I was pretty sure I knew what she was going to say. I've spent the last nine months praying for this little miracle, and yesterday I had the strangest feeling that I was missing the birth, but then I remembered she wasn't actually scheduled for her c-section for five more days, so I relaxed. But my husband came rushing into our room this morning to say baby Stav had arrived. Strange. I don't know what it's for, and maybe it is all a big coincidence and my hopes just happening to come true, but what it makes me feel is that God knows how much I miss my friends, and he's connecting me to them and reminding me that though the world is vast, he's holding us together.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Writers block
I've got it bad.
I think part of the problem is that I've been a bit sad this year. I've been struggling with some friendships and some family stuff and some church stuff and have generally felt quite misunderstood, and I can't just put that out into cyberspace for any old person to read and feel slated. And since I don't do surface, I've been a bit stuck. But I stupidly challenged my friend to each write something "good" before his baby's due in five short days, and since he has smacked down, watch this space. I'm not one to bow out of a challenge.
I think part of the problem is that I've been a bit sad this year. I've been struggling with some friendships and some family stuff and some church stuff and have generally felt quite misunderstood, and I can't just put that out into cyberspace for any old person to read and feel slated. And since I don't do surface, I've been a bit stuck. But I stupidly challenged my friend to each write something "good" before his baby's due in five short days, and since he has smacked down, watch this space. I'm not one to bow out of a challenge.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Life with God
I have just finished the incredible Life with God by Richard Foster. In it, Dr. Foster explains the life-transforming power of the Immanuel Principle, or the with-God life, as proclaimed in the Bible. He encourages the reader to delve into the story of God with the heart, with the mind, and in the context of the greater community of believers. The book is filled with practical instruction and application for reading the Bible, listening to God, lectio divina, and spiritual disciplines, all the while maintaining that Christianity cannot be about a list of rules and boxes to tick, but about the Divine-human relationship, which is different for each individual. His passion for God and God's written word, as well as for His church, is screaming from the pages, and it is contagious. Well worth a read. Here's a sample of its brilliance:
The women's intimacy group that I am a part of is going through the book and the following questions.
Chapter 1: Seeing the Bible Afresh
1. “A Spiritual Discipline is an intentionally directed action by which we do what we can do in order to receive from God the ability (or power) to do what we cannot do by direct effort.” What things would you like to do that you do not have the power to do? What spiritual discipline (see list on page 14) would best allow you to receive that power from God.
2. Discuss the statement “The opposite of grace is works, but not effort.”
3. Choose a Bible story to read and relate to as described in the final section “Go and Do Likewise”.
Chapter 2: Entering the World of the Bible
1. In the first chapter, Dr. Foster writes that grace is not the opposite of effort. In this chapter he highlights that following Jesus is not about checking off a “to-do” list but about the condition of our hearts. Do you tend to err on the side of grace or the side of legalism?
2. Dr. Foster says that the Bible is a story and a messy one at that. Do you agree?
3. Many of us carry baggage when it comes to reading the Bible. We find it dull, or hard work, or something we do out of guilt, or we have lots of Bible knowledge but don’t feel like it changes the way we live. What are your personal hang-ups when it comes to the Bible?
4. Choose a passage and practice reading the Bible expectantly, attentively, and humbly. Do you find this changes how you interact with the Bible?
Chapter 3: Experiencing the With-God Life
1. Meditate on the scriptures listed on pgs 38-39. Which is your favourite/speaks most to your situation/gives you the most hope?
2. Have you ever or do you now feel that God is far off? What can you do to combat those feelings? Do you struggle with the urge to reject God?
3. Choose one of the stories listed on 45-47, or choose one not listed if you’d rather, and ask God to speak to you. What does he have to say to you?
4. Meditate on the “I Am” statements on 50-51. What do they tell you about your relationship with Jesus?
5. Discuss the statement “We know that our character is shaped by what we immerse ourselves in” along with Colossians 3:1-4.
Chapter 4: Reading with the Heart
1. Discuss the statement by William Law regarding intention.
2. On pages 59-61 Dr. Foster lists some dangerous notions of Bible-reading that can keep us from really engaging with God. Do you relate to any of these?
3. Do you find that you talk about experiencing God more often than you actually experience God?
4. Practice lectio divina this week. How do you find it? What do you enjoy? What do you find difficult?
Chapter 5: Reading with the Mind
1. Do you tend to meet with God when you read the Bible?
2. Do you feel confident that the Holy Spirit helps you to interpret Scripture? Why or why not?
3. Choose one of the genres of Scripture to focus on this week. What question does Dr. Foster suggest you ask? What did you hear God say?
4. “Each one of us adds to [God’s story] with the little life we bring into its great life, as drops of rainwater add to a rushing stream.” How does that make you feel about your life?
Chapter 6: Reading with the People of God
1. Hebrews 10:24-25. Do you have people who encourage you and provoke you to love and good deeds? If not, why do you think that is? If so, do you feel like you reciprocate?
2. Do you identify with our community or do you have an “us” and “them” mentality?
3. Of the six streams, which do you identify with most? Which would you like to experience more?
Chapter 7: The Disciplines of Relationship
1. Discipline is the ability to do the right thing at the right time for the right reason. In what area of your life do you most require discipline?
2. Commit to memory the verses listed at the bottom of page 137. Exodus 15:2, Isaiah 30:18, 1 Peter 5:7
3. We are always being formed by something. Take time to ask God what is forming you. Do you feel him prompting you to any action?
4. Consider the disciplines of abstinence and engagement. As God to show you a discipline to practice this week.
Chapter 8: The Way of Freedom
1. Take some time to imagine with God what you life would look like if you engaged with invitation of “will you be with Me?” in every aspect of your life.
2. ‘Jesus has promised to be our ever-present teacher and guide.’ Practice ‘holy expectancy’ this week by asking God to speak to you and writing down what he says.
3. What are the five ‘guardrails’ of indirection. Are there any you struggle with? Any you find particularly encouraging?
Chapter 9: Living by Grace
1. Discuss Foster’s opening statement, “Christians need grace far more than ‘sinners.’” Do you agree with Bonhoefer’s definitions of cheap grace and true, costly grace? Does this change your view of living by grace?
2. Ask God to interrupt your daily life this week and pay attention to what he is doing. Meditate on one of the scriptures on page 188. What is God saying to you about grace?
3. ‘Faith is the willingness to trust that God is at work. Faith gives rise to hope, which is the refusal to accept the world at face value. Love involves clearheaded action toward God and other, rooted in Jesus’ sacrificial action on our behalf. Grace is relational and active.’ Meditate on these statements. How do they effect you? What is God saying to you?
4. In order to enter this zoë life, what do you feel called to yes to? What might you need to say no to?
The with-God kind of life that we see in the Bible is the very life to which we are called. It is, in fact, exactly the life Jesus is referring to when he declares, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly" (John 10:10, KJV). It is a life of unhurried peace and power. It is solid. It is serene. It is simple. It is radiant. It takes no time, though it permeates all of our time.
But such a life does not simply fall into our hands. Frankly, it is no more automatic for us than it was for those luminaries who walk across the pages of our Bible. There is a God-ordained means to becoming the kind of persons and the kind of communities that can fully and joyfully enter into such abundant living. And the "means" involve us in a process of intentionally "training...in godliness" (1 Tim. 4:7). This is the purpose of the Disciplines of the spiritual life. Indeed, Scripture itself is the primary means for the discovery, instruction, and practice of the Spiritual Disciplines, which bring us all the more fully into the with God life.
The women's intimacy group that I am a part of is going through the book and the following questions.
Chapter 1: Seeing the Bible Afresh
1. “A Spiritual Discipline is an intentionally directed action by which we do what we can do in order to receive from God the ability (or power) to do what we cannot do by direct effort.” What things would you like to do that you do not have the power to do? What spiritual discipline (see list on page 14) would best allow you to receive that power from God.
2. Discuss the statement “The opposite of grace is works, but not effort.”
3. Choose a Bible story to read and relate to as described in the final section “Go and Do Likewise”.
Chapter 2: Entering the World of the Bible
1. In the first chapter, Dr. Foster writes that grace is not the opposite of effort. In this chapter he highlights that following Jesus is not about checking off a “to-do” list but about the condition of our hearts. Do you tend to err on the side of grace or the side of legalism?
2. Dr. Foster says that the Bible is a story and a messy one at that. Do you agree?
3. Many of us carry baggage when it comes to reading the Bible. We find it dull, or hard work, or something we do out of guilt, or we have lots of Bible knowledge but don’t feel like it changes the way we live. What are your personal hang-ups when it comes to the Bible?
4. Choose a passage and practice reading the Bible expectantly, attentively, and humbly. Do you find this changes how you interact with the Bible?
Chapter 3: Experiencing the With-God Life
1. Meditate on the scriptures listed on pgs 38-39. Which is your favourite/speaks most to your situation/gives you the most hope?
2. Have you ever or do you now feel that God is far off? What can you do to combat those feelings? Do you struggle with the urge to reject God?
3. Choose one of the stories listed on 45-47, or choose one not listed if you’d rather, and ask God to speak to you. What does he have to say to you?
4. Meditate on the “I Am” statements on 50-51. What do they tell you about your relationship with Jesus?
5. Discuss the statement “We know that our character is shaped by what we immerse ourselves in” along with Colossians 3:1-4.
Chapter 4: Reading with the Heart
1. Discuss the statement by William Law regarding intention.
2. On pages 59-61 Dr. Foster lists some dangerous notions of Bible-reading that can keep us from really engaging with God. Do you relate to any of these?
3. Do you find that you talk about experiencing God more often than you actually experience God?
4. Practice lectio divina this week. How do you find it? What do you enjoy? What do you find difficult?
Chapter 5: Reading with the Mind
1. Do you tend to meet with God when you read the Bible?
2. Do you feel confident that the Holy Spirit helps you to interpret Scripture? Why or why not?
3. Choose one of the genres of Scripture to focus on this week. What question does Dr. Foster suggest you ask? What did you hear God say?
4. “Each one of us adds to [God’s story] with the little life we bring into its great life, as drops of rainwater add to a rushing stream.” How does that make you feel about your life?
Chapter 6: Reading with the People of God
1. Hebrews 10:24-25. Do you have people who encourage you and provoke you to love and good deeds? If not, why do you think that is? If so, do you feel like you reciprocate?
2. Do you identify with our community or do you have an “us” and “them” mentality?
3. Of the six streams, which do you identify with most? Which would you like to experience more?
Chapter 7: The Disciplines of Relationship
1. Discipline is the ability to do the right thing at the right time for the right reason. In what area of your life do you most require discipline?
2. Commit to memory the verses listed at the bottom of page 137. Exodus 15:2, Isaiah 30:18, 1 Peter 5:7
3. We are always being formed by something. Take time to ask God what is forming you. Do you feel him prompting you to any action?
4. Consider the disciplines of abstinence and engagement. As God to show you a discipline to practice this week.
Chapter 8: The Way of Freedom
1. Take some time to imagine with God what you life would look like if you engaged with invitation of “will you be with Me?” in every aspect of your life.
2. ‘Jesus has promised to be our ever-present teacher and guide.’ Practice ‘holy expectancy’ this week by asking God to speak to you and writing down what he says.
3. What are the five ‘guardrails’ of indirection. Are there any you struggle with? Any you find particularly encouraging?
Chapter 9: Living by Grace
1. Discuss Foster’s opening statement, “Christians need grace far more than ‘sinners.’” Do you agree with Bonhoefer’s definitions of cheap grace and true, costly grace? Does this change your view of living by grace?
2. Ask God to interrupt your daily life this week and pay attention to what he is doing. Meditate on one of the scriptures on page 188. What is God saying to you about grace?
3. ‘Faith is the willingness to trust that God is at work. Faith gives rise to hope, which is the refusal to accept the world at face value. Love involves clearheaded action toward God and other, rooted in Jesus’ sacrificial action on our behalf. Grace is relational and active.’ Meditate on these statements. How do they effect you? What is God saying to you?
4. In order to enter this zoë life, what do you feel called to yes to? What might you need to say no to?
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Emmanuel
I was struck with awe this week at the thought of what the advent of Jesus means to me. A feeling of giddiness overcame me as I realised that when Jesus came into the world, an infant of a poor carpenter and his young bride, born under suspicious circumstances and of questionable lineage, not within the constructs of the Jewish calendar but coinciding with the census of the Roman empire, that God announced loudly and clearly that everyone is included. All are welcome, all are accepted. Whether a prostitute, an adulteress, a murderer, a magician, a thief, an orphan, a widow, a societal outcast, none are too low to have God live among them.
And so I, with all my faults and insecurities, have become a daughter of the God of the universe, a friend of the King of Kings. Emmanuel is with me. I, who was once far away, without hope and without God in the world, have been brought near through Christ. He is my peace and my access to the Father.
May we find peace, and know God with us, as we celebrate the Advent of our Lord.
And so I, with all my faults and insecurities, have become a daughter of the God of the universe, a friend of the King of Kings. Emmanuel is with me. I, who was once far away, without hope and without God in the world, have been brought near through Christ. He is my peace and my access to the Father.
May we find peace, and know God with us, as we celebrate the Advent of our Lord.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Winter
Having come home from sunny California where we swam outside most days and only wore a sweater occasionally in the evening to blustery England where we've pulled out our winter coats, hats and gloves, it would be easy for me to sink into the mire of self-pity, wondering what in the world I am doing living in this climate. But as I was walking through the field to preschool yesterday, I felt God reminding me that Winter teaches me about faith. When the trees are bare, the flowers have died, the wind is bitterly cold, and most of the wildlife have gone into hiding, I find it easy to get down. I find it easy to hate England. I find it hard to get out of bed before the sun is up and to stay up hours after it has gone to bed for the night. The shortest day of Winter here in England is less than 8 hours long.
But Faith is believing in something that we cannot see. It is believing despite the evidence of the barren landscape that Spring is just around the corner, and new twigs and buds and baby animals will be bursting forth in just a few short months. Faith is believing that despite the darkness of the day, God promises His Kingdom will reign, and that I am one of the instruments of His Kingdom. So whether I see it or not, I have to believe that He is at work under the bark, the frozen ground, in the burrows and the caves, waiting to burst forth in light, and that my prayers and good works and acts of faith are bringing that Kingdom just a little closer.
Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
But Faith is believing in something that we cannot see. It is believing despite the evidence of the barren landscape that Spring is just around the corner, and new twigs and buds and baby animals will be bursting forth in just a few short months. Faith is believing that despite the darkness of the day, God promises His Kingdom will reign, and that I am one of the instruments of His Kingdom. So whether I see it or not, I have to believe that He is at work under the bark, the frozen ground, in the burrows and the caves, waiting to burst forth in light, and that my prayers and good works and acts of faith are bringing that Kingdom just a little closer.
Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
No more diapers
It's official. My days of diapering are done. Macy is sleeping through the night without nappies, as of the last two nights. I'm not sure what that does for my blog, as I'm no longer changing diapers. I'm hoping it will mark a change in my life that means more head space and more writing space, but maybe I need to change my blog title! Suggestions?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
How does my garden grow?
My mother-in-law gave me this great book a year or two ago, and I finally found the time to do one of the many great projects in it. We spent most of the last three days in the garden, getting very dirty and having lots of fun, and we now have peas, carrots and lettuce planted in the vegetable patch, and we have lemon thyme, sweet peas, dianthus, and erysimums in our "smells of spring" flower patch.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Mummy-fied
I never wanted to be a mummy, which is the unfortunate English term for a mother. I am Mommy, Mama, or Mom, thank you very much, indeed. But as my children's English accents are becoming more pronounced, I am slowly leaving my identity as Mom and moving into one of Mummy. Which is probably appropriate, as my waking hours are becoming more and more about mindless wandering, doing tasks that require little if any brain-power. If anyone sees me walking with my arms out in front of me, knees not bending, don't be alarmed, I've just been mummy-fied.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Looking for God
I have been doing my annual attempt to read the Bible in a year again. I usually get to the minor prophets sometime in the summer and get so unbelievably bored that I give up. This year I am on track to read the Bible in three years, which is probably a more reasonable goal for a mother of three. What has struck me most in my readings is how very present God is. I so often look for God in the heavens, as an other-earthly being who needs to come down and step in to my situation. But what I see again and again with Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, and Moses is that they often engaged with God without even realizing to whom they were speaking until he had left. And that reminded me of Jesus when he said that whenever we clothe/feed/house a stranger, we are clothing/feeding/housing him. And somewhere else the Bible mentions hosting angels without being aware of it.
While this revelation isn't earth-shaking, it has made me see my life just a little differently. Rather than looking for God to come down, I'm wondering how many times I've missed him and I've started looking for him everywhere.
While this revelation isn't earth-shaking, it has made me see my life just a little differently. Rather than looking for God to come down, I'm wondering how many times I've missed him and I've started looking for him everywhere.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Celtic Daily Prayer
I don't know what's happened to me, but I feel like I'm changing. I just feel so much more calm. Life is not easier, I am no less busy, but I somehow am just not so bothered. Maybe it's the prayers.
The Brothers K
By far my favorite book ever written. So much so that even though I have what feels like no time, I am reading it (well, listening to it, actually--I LOVE AUDIBLE!) for the third time. Thank you Madam Duffy for the best gift ever.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I've got five minutes.
I dreamt last night that I wrote the most profound post ever written. It was as if God himself had spoken through my keyboard, and it was beautiful. I read it out in my dream, and then I woke up and it was gone.
I am struggling to juggle kindergarten and preschool and play groups and discipline and diapers and whining and reading and cooking and cleaning and the endless tidying and streams of questions and whys and the me-time that I so desperately need and the wife-time that my husband needs and the husband time that I need and wondering how long we can go on at this pace. I'm reading Job and realizing that it's just all too big, and so I embrace what I can and let go of what I can't and practice just being and knowing that God is good.
Sometimes it's the joy in the midst of pain that is the most satisfying.
I am struggling to juggle kindergarten and preschool and play groups and discipline and diapers and whining and reading and cooking and cleaning and the endless tidying and streams of questions and whys and the me-time that I so desperately need and the wife-time that my husband needs and the husband time that I need and wondering how long we can go on at this pace. I'm reading Job and realizing that it's just all too big, and so I embrace what I can and let go of what I can't and practice just being and knowing that God is good.
Sometimes it's the joy in the midst of pain that is the most satisfying.
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