Begin.

Redemption Taking Hold

2009-05-11T14:10:00.003-05:00

Hello friends and faithful readers,

Starting this Sunday, I will officially be a Kansas City girl! I am joining up with the team at the U.S. headquarters of 24-7 Prayer (not to be confused with IHOP, for those of you familiar). Essentially, I will be living as a missionary. I'll be writing loads of stories and working on the communication side of things for the Campus America initiative, which is a thriving part of the greater 24-7 network. It is an immense blessing and honor to join in this movement that is largely global and expanding rapidly. Although I'm sad to bid my current community here in Oklahoma farewell and to pack up the last five years of my life, God is certainly behind all this and changing me rather deeply in the process.

So, in honor of this new season in life, I felt it appropriate to start a new blog. From now on, you can find me here. I look forward to having you all along for the journey.

-r

A Glimpse

2009-04-08T15:58:00.002-05:00

Some excerpts of a piece I'm writing, but not sure what to do with just yet. It's fictional, but true to life as I know it.

//

Creak. Creak. Shuffleshuffleshuffle.

He came in.

Like an unassuming breeze, steady, confident, inconspicuous. I was lost in a world of wakeful dreams, but managed to nod kindly at him as he approached my table. He smiled warmly at me through sleepy eyes. After exchanging friendly banter with the barista—a tall, powerfully present man with dreadlocks and dark eyes that could look into the soul—he took a few steps my way, once again catching my absent-minded gaze.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked quietly.

//

“I see rhythm,” I said, nodding toward the world outside the windows.
“Can you hear it, too?”
“Not really. It’s so insulated in here. I see it more than I hear it. Or maybe I feel it. In fact, I can almost taste it. It’s like this strange familiarity in a land that isn’t my own just yet. Like a memory of a dream that you’d forgotten about. It’s like I’m laying in my bed, just waking up and trying really hard to remember what it was about, or who was in it. It makes me feel bold, but timid. It’s like I feel like I could pen a million words, but then stare at a blank page with nothing to say.”

//

+

2009-03-18T10:57:00.002-05:00

Rushing, crashing, moving, changing.

The mysterious power of the constantly moving water captured me. I was pensive, broken and in many ways, still reeling from the seemingly abrupt transition which marked the season of my life. The truth is that it had been coming along. I had even seen it approaching. But there on those shorelines, I felt the sting of rejection, the sorrow of goodbyes and the uncertainty of the future now keeping stride with me. I had been running so hard for so long that they had scarcely caught up with me before. I had kept them at bay, but now they were coming in with the crashing waves, wearing away at my pathetic façade. Slowly…surely…I began to feel the life-giving breath of my Creator once again.

Rushing, crashing, moving, changing.

A year later, I was there again, very much mended and transformed...but still broken, all the same. The moon shone fiercely as a dear friend and I let the sand invade the spaces between our toes. We shared memories and the stories of the last year of our lives at a leisurely pace, peering across the darkened shoreline and the moonlit waves. The wee hours overtook us as we talked. Much had changed, but some things had remained exactly as we left them the summer before, somehow enshrined in the golden memories we had collected. And I could hear the waves beckoning, once again. But this time, He told me that their presence meant it was time to go…not stay.

Rushing, crashing, moving, changing.

I find myself a few moons short of yet another year from that place. The power and revelation of God that I found in those waves lingers still. Oftentimes, my heart hurts for the shorelines where I grew up. It seems that every visit, and every departure, makes my fondness and reverence for it grow. Some nights I lie in bed and can almost hear the sound of those all-too-distant waves. And I know, beyond any shadow of doubting, that His everlasting arms are wrapped around me still. The sound of the waves in my ears, in my heart, reminds me that I find myself perfectly at Home.

Rushing, crashing, moving, changing.

From Africa, With Love

2009-03-02T19:08:00.003-06:00

In about three months, I will be traveling to Uganda, Africa. I am unspeakably excited about this journey. I'll be spending a few weeks there with a team of about 40-50 others, the vast majority of whom I won't meet until we converge in NYC to fly on to Entebbe. We'll be spending most of our time in Jinja and its surrounding villages, along with (hopefully) Kampala. I'll have my camera in hand, my pen at the ready and my eyes and heart wide open. Who knows what adventure will unfold.

Head on over to my Africa blog to keep tabs on how things are going. If you're interested in supporting my trip, please feel free to e-mail me at abide (dot) photography (at) gmail (dot) com and I can provide you with the necessary information to make sure you get a nifty little tax-deduction form.

Much love!
-R

The Maker of the Stars

2009-02-27T09:50:00.003-06:00

Sleepy eyes and explosions in the sky.
An aching heart, yet full of love…beating so imperfectly.
Lungs now filled with faith…breathing…breathing…breathing…
A life that’s growing, moving, being.

A steady rhythm driving.
A rhythm far beyond.
A rhythm deep within.
A song that all creation knows…and sings along.

Rising, falling, ebbing, flowing
All the while our hearts are showing
Who we are and who You are
Breathe in the Maker of the stars

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2009-01-12T23:00:00.002-06:00

[Flickr]

//

Resolve [revisited]

2008-12-27T18:11:00.005-06:00

Every once in a while, I take a turn through my old blog entries. I find it fascinating to see what was rolling around inside my head back then. Tonight I looked back and found an entry from one year ago. I believe I was sitting right where I am now (on my bed at my parents' house, far away from the lands of Oklahoma). I had compiled a list of New Year's resolutions. Here is what they were, and how I feel I did with each of them:

As ever, draw closer to God. (Successful. Except I have realized that He draws closer to me far more often than I do to Him, for which I am incredibly grateful. He is so very faithful.)

Be more intentional with others. (Successful. I moved in with three other girls for this very purpose, and found myself pulled into a beautiful community of Christians. Honestly, though, I still fight to let myself know and be known. Don't we all?)

Read (and actually finish) a decent number of books. (I finished one. It was worth it. My list last year was a bit lofty.)

Try to write a novel. (I wrote my heart out, but not for a novel. I have a lot of life to live before I think I can offer something novel-worthy.)

Hone my photography skills. (Successful. I made some investments into equipment and took opportunities to get experience. I am loving every minute of it.)

Journal more often. (This one was up and down. Lately...not so much journaling.)

Get some art on my walls. (Successful. I started painting a lot more and nearly all the art in my room at our house is my own.)

Play more shows. (Not so successful. I played one. But, on the other hand, I started leading worship for sets at every Burn that I could. It's a make you/break you sort of experience to play the 2 a.m. set and to realize what it means to have an audience of One. Needless to say, it changed me deeply.)

//

Now for (a few of) the 2009 resolutions, for those of you who care to know.

Go to Africa. I have plans that include Uganda and Kenya. More on this later.

Tell the stories of others more often. One of the reasons I have been relatively silent in the "blogosphere" lately is because I've gotten tired of hearing my own voice. After taking a few steps back to examine the creative aspects of my life as a whole (writing, music, photography, art), I realized that I need/want to spend more time pouring myself into art that tells the story of others. Again, more on this later.

Learn to tell my story better. I know this may sound like it conflicts with the last resolution I listed, but in truth, they are inseparable. As I learn more about the stories of others (and most importantly, how they weave into God and His Kingdom), I will hopefully learn to tell my own story in a way that is humble and effective. I realize this all may sound a bit transcendent. That's probably because it is.

Stop trying to keep my best foot forward. It is not worth the time and effort to try to maintain a perfectly agreeable image with others. Real community and relationship are forged in the fires of the nitty gritty.

//

There are, of course, the more cliché and nonetheless important items on my list. But enough of that.

What are some of your New Year's resolutions for 2009?

The Art of Broom Pushing

2008-12-14T22:41:00.002-06:00

It was the part of the morning where the sun started its climb higher into the sky. Its slanted rays burst through the windows, cutting a path through the haze and dust of the gym where I stood. The grogginess of my altercation with my alarm clock that morning lingered still. With dust mop in hand, I began my usual routine.

Push. Pace. Pray. Repeat.

It was my favorite part of the day. Solitude and a simple, humble task at hand. Time to think and pray and come fully awake before the rest of our daily tasks of housekeeping at the camp would commence. Even though my days of scrubbing toilets for Jesus are about a year-and-a-half removed now, I cherish that season of life. At times, I even long to go back to making minimum wage and spending my afternoons off traipsing along the shores of Lake Michigan with friends. There was something sacred about that time.

Nearly every summer for five years, I found myself at that camp. Pushing a broom. Scrubbing a toilet. Getting new towels for mothers with impressively messy children. Many times, it was a place of healing. Something about working through the mundane, and often disgusting, tasks of housekeeping gave opportunity for God to teach me a thing or two about service, humility and obedience.

Many-an evening were spent sitting on the beach, listening to the waves and watching the sun paint the horizon as it set. We would take late night walks, listening to the wind rustle through the dune grass and watching the moon dance on the water. I could reminisce for hours about the memories made in that place. And as insignificant as a job like housekeeping may seem on a resume...to me, it was deeply impacting. It is integral to my story.

Push. Pace. Pray. Repeat.

Sometimes God puts us in a place where we are over-qualified for our position, just to teach us to slow down and to embrace the season. He sets us in the midst of a situation where what is expected of us is far less than what we are capable of doing. Sometimes, He calls us to push a broom before we take that dream job or go overseas to be a missionary or start that project that has been burning in our hearts for years. Sometimes He even takes us out of our present accomplishments and reduces us to that place of simplicity, just so we can get past ourselves and back to Him again. Just so we can hear Him speak.

Push. Pace. Pray. Repeat.

Against the backdrop of many irons in the fire and more than one dream coming true in my life, I long for that place of simplicity again. A season where things are stripped down and relatively uncomplicated. In the same breath, I realize that we are prone to spend too much of our lives wishing for something more. Something less. Something different. So instead, I choose to be all here. All now. Entirely present.

Being content regardless of circumstance is much more than just a lesson learned. It is an attitude of heart adopted. A lifelong pursuit of something far greater than our own gain. Infinitely beyond our grasp. It is giving our lives away for an end entirely impossible to reach by human hands. An end that can only be accomplished through God’s plan, orchestration, wisdom and grace. And, when the time comes, the willingness to let it all go and begin once again.

Push. Pace. Pray. Repeat.

Epic Route

2008-11-18T13:48:00.004-06:00

I was trying to find directions from a friend's town to Seattle...got her town name wrong...and this is what snarky old Google Maps gave me for "Seattle, WA" to "Lyndon, WA" (apparently in Australia). I laughed out loud.

[I recommend the bigger size to see just how epic and ridiculous those directions are...]

Anybody have a kayak handy?

Pins and Needles

2008-11-05T16:22:00.001-06:00

The blood rushed desperately back into my leg as I unfolded it from underneath me. It was as if I was aware every single cell as it pushed its way through the veins and revived what was once asleep and, if cut off long enough, dead.

They were pins and needles, pulsating their way into position.

Part of me wanted to fold my leg back under me, to retreat to what was numb and comfortable. It is much less complicated to feel nothing. To stay in a place of perpetual sleep, unaware of the world and its complicated circulation of pride, pain, doubt and fear. But this same circulation somehow intermingles with beauty, hope, peace and rest. It is wrapped up in Christ, the only One who can truly offer life.

What is it about being revived that frightens us so much? We all have dead or dying parts of our lives. We all have our vices. We cover them up with a myriad of defense mechanisms and try hard to keep our best foot forward with the people around us…even with perfect strangers. I am guilty as charged. We were broken from the start, shattered by the fall of man. But then we were redeemed, revived, renewed, invited to become a family. To live, breathe, eat, work, play, study, serve, create, pray and abide together.

We are charged with a purpose, a calling, to spread the Kingdom of God far and wide. To bring Christ to all people. To be Christ to all people. It may sound simple or, God forbid, redundant. But if we realized what exactly it was that we were being offered, our lives would go up in smoke in an instant. Recklessly abandoned to this purpose. This calling. This reason we exist and draw in breath day after day.

Pins and needless…bringing lifeblood and revival.

The cost of coming alive in such a way is painful and seemingly insurmountable to most. Each day, I very keenly feel the weight of my own humanity in my chest. It is fighting furiously to smother the fire burning inside me for God and His people. Distractions overtake me. My gifts become my stumbling block. My very passion becomes elusive. Distraction breeds mediocrity, and mediocrity is not in God’s plan.

But my wake up call came not long ago, marked with shouting, shaking, tears and fervent prayers. Those who know me well realize that it takes quite a bit to get me to a place of such extreme emotion and expression. A terrifying dream I can’t remember (for a reason, He told me) woke me from my sleep, quite rudely and suddenly. It took some time and effort before I could get back to sleep in those wee hours. Ever since, I have fought to keep the revelation I had that night at the forefront of my life.

There is a battle raging. Darkness to be driven out. And we must be willing to wake up, to come alive, and to walk with it, run with it, live with it, bear with it, break with it. We must allow the numbness to subside, no matter how great the cost or the pain it takes to come alive again. Fortunately enough, pain has a way of stripping us down to gritty reality.

Pins and needles...catalyzing truth.

I can’t go on being like the rich young ruler, who knew discipline and humility, but lacked one thing…a heart that would willingly obey. Abandon all and follow. It is easy to pen words that sound good and that even come from a place of genuine passion. But it is another thing to work it out and walk it through, especially in community. To sell it all and give it to the poor. To actively seek God's grace and love together, right along with His discipline and rebuke.

Even if we try and fail miserably over and over…He is still crazy about us. Still calling us. Still beckoning us to take on this life He has fashioned. He is a jealous God, not consumed by sinful desire but burning up with pure, holy passion for His people. And He will not…can not…relent until our hearts are fully His.

Brothers and sisters, let us lock step with the rhythm of the Kingdom together.

Pins and needles. Pulsating. Lifeblood. Revival. Reality. Truth.

Sacred Spaces

2008-11-04T09:58:00.007-06:00

[KC Boiler Room community, second floor]

//

I spent the weekend driving with some dear friends to a few different Boiler Room communities around the midwest. It was an incredible, eye-opening experience. In the process, I managed to surprise my family with a visit to Michigan. My grandma has been in the hospital for a few months recovering from a broken femur (and the consequential discovery of + angioplasty due to a nearly entirely blocked artery in her heart). She has been through so much...and the look on her face when I walked in was priceless! It was a joy to see my family...and to acquire some new family members during our "pilgrimage" this weekend. I fell in love with the people and places we met. I got a healthy dose of fall foliage, stunning sunsets, sunrises and starry nights, lively conversations, the open road, good music and coffee and endless photo ops.

It is a bit too much to put into words at this point...but some of the revelation and inspiration that came along with the weekend will more than likely come out in my writing as we all process and reflect.

//

Brew

2008-10-26T19:39:00.004-05:00

Producer of many-a steamy breve.

[Click the photo for a bigger version]

//

What is your favorite brew or drink?

Saint Augustine

2008-10-19T21:50:00.005-05:00

"What art Thou then, my God? What, but the Lord God? For who is the Lord but the Lord? or who is God save our God? Most highest, most good, most potent, most omnipotent; most merciful, yet most just, most hidden, yet most present; most beautiful, yet most strong; stable, yet incomprehensible; unchangeable, yet all-changing; never new, never old; all-renewing, and bringing age upon the proud, and they know it not; ever working, ever at rest; still gathering, yet nothing lacking; supporting, filling, and over-spreading; creating, nourishing, and maturing; seeking, yet having all things. Thou lovest, without passion; art jealous, without anxiety; repentest, yet grievest not; art angry, yet serene; changest Thy works, Thy purpose unchanged; receivest again what Thou findest, yet didst never lose; never in need, yet rejoicing in gains; never covetous, yet exacting in usury. Thou receivest over and above, that Thou mayest owe; and who hath aught that is not Thine? Thou payest debts, owing nothing; remittest debts, losing nothing. And what have I now said, my God, my life, my holy joy? or what saith any man when he speaks of Thee? Yet woe to him that speaketh not, since mute are even the most eloquent."

[The Confessions of St. Augustine, book I]

//

//

I spent the weekend with about 15 other young adults at a retreat centered around Celtic monasticism and the via crucis (the way of the cross). It was a unique experience, to say the least. We were at a church on the edge of downtown and in the middle of an area where drugs, violence and poverty are very present. Essentially, we took things slowly, prayed a lot and got away from the noise. We practiced many of the same things that Celtic monks would, like studying the word, focusing on community, taking a vow of silence one night and structuring our day around several times of prayer and meditation. I knew there was power in liturgy and such, but I had never experienced it like this.

Oddly enough, I started reading The Confessions of St. Augustine shortly before I learned that the retreat would be centered around monasticism. Augustine's words can be difficult to grasp. I get lost in all the "Thee" and "Thou" of it sometimes, but something undeniably resonates with me in his words, his searching, his questions and his pondering.

I have a million things processing through my head and heart right now, but the lingering feeling from the weekend is pensive, grateful, refreshed and broken. It's beautiful, but hard to express this time. Perhaps I will be able to write more on it later.

//

Shut[ter]

2008-10-15T14:35:00.000-05:00

[Flickr]

//

Lately I find myself on a creative streak. I told a friend that I seem to hit a stride, and then it all comes pouring out of me. Music. Photography. Writing. Artwork. Even cooking and decorating. The changing of seasons and the cooler weather inspires me. Either that, or Starbucks is putting something in their pumpkin spice lattes...

This creativity has its pros and cons. Part of me wants to skip town and do life over the pond somewhere for a while. To expand and grow in an area that is entirely new and challenging to me. Then there is the part of me that loves where I am. I am content, but not comfortable.

I was out for a walk the other night and the moon was full. I was taken aback at how brightly it lit the place where I usually sit for a while to think and pray. There were a few enormous, low hanging clouds moving quickly across the otherwise clear sky. I laid back on the ground and watched as they raced north. I was fascinated. Overwhelmed. Humbled.

I...have nothing to do...with that.

As I stared at the sky, something suddenly became very clear to me.

I am small. And that is good.

It is good to be reminded just how small I am, and how much I rely on God to keep the universe spinning and my world in order. I try too hard to do that myself most days. I am learning that His grace and discipline go hand in hand.

//

+

2008-10-10T10:22:00.000-05:00

[...Flickr...]

//

I've been rather daydreamy this week. I took this photo of my best friend circa 12,000 feet in the Rocky Mountain tundra (mind you, we drove most of that via Trail Ridge Road. I'm definitely not that awesome...)

It sums up the feeling of my week well.

+

2008-10-09T09:34:00.000-05:00

[From a friend I haven't seen in a long time]

Justin: i heard you became a professional surfer
Rachel: cowabunga
Justin: is that french?
Rachel: si
Justin: i forgot you lived in germany
Rachel: ha ha...i'm out of languages...

//

[And it's not even 10 a.m.]

To be held...

2008-10-07T11:31:00.000-05:00

“You are loved,” he said as he embraced me. The night around us was quiet.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said, fighting tears once again.

I was so very weary from the fight.

“And that’s okay. You can just rest in that love…until you have something to say.”

The night weighed heavily in my heart. We were in the midst of a long drive away from people and places that hurt to leave, and I was in a very vulnerable place. It scared me more than anything. I was a very tightly contained mess, fighting hard to keep the tears from escaping. We found ourselves at an exit that resembled the middle-of-nowhere places I have grown so accustomed to in my many long drives and late nights. We had pulled over to switch places as we drew closer to home.

And in that moment, I realized His love was all around me. Even if the words that rocked my little world came from a friend that was just as human as me…I came to know another part of God's character and love. In the midst of my raw emotion and messy state of being, I felt Him move. He stretched out His arms and drew me closer. The timing of it all was inescapably perfect.

//

“We have been brought near by the blood of Christ,” he said, as his little girl crawled into his arms.

I was taken aback at the moment. We had gathered to study the book of Ephesians, and I found myself watching his daughter as she quietly played on the floor. Every now and then she would pipe up and tell us that she had read that same story in her Bible. She had read her entire children’s Bible from cover to cover.

Oh, to have the faith of a child…

What is it about a child crawling into your arms and nestling into you that can make the most calloused of hearts melt? I’m yet to experience this with my own children, but the glimpses I have gotten with the children of my brothers and my friends is enough to show me more of the depth of my own Father’s love for me.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ…

Once and for all, His death and resurrection broke apart a deeply settled hatred and division between Jew and Gentile. He brought together all humanity. He eliminated our excuses to be divided.

“I feel like I need to find a Jew or something and let him know!” he said. We all had a good laugh.

What happy news!

Nothing can separate us from Him, and in essence, nothing could separate us from one another, regardless of race, creed, background, story, mistakes, circumstances or culture. Like a daughter in her daddy’s arms, we are tucked safely into the place where we belong. We are made whole. We are made clean. We are made His.

We are held.

So swiftly arriving...

2008-09-30T15:23:00.000-05:00

I saw leaves falling for the first time other day, caught up in the breeze and illuminated by brilliant rays of the rising sun as I drove to work. It took me aback, considering the weather has been a little warm for my taste lately. When I walked outside today, I felt a familiar chill in the air and wiped the dew off my car. I breathed in the air deeply, searching for the scent of the oncoming fall. It was there, somewhere.

This is the time of year that I put on moody/folksy autumnal music like Death Cab for Cutie, Nickel Creek, Jon Foreman and the like. I grab a pumpkin spice latte and go for evening walks in jeans, flip flops and a hoodie (my favorite clothing to wear). I find myself remembering more readily how big the universe is and how very small I am when I look up at the clear sky and breathe in the crisp air. I have come to enjoy fall more than I used to, not just for the brilliant colors of the leaves and the cooler weather, but for the rhythm in nature that reminds me of our Creator.

Creativity is central to my life, especially lately. As the season changes, I find that I am changing too. Putting down roots and drawing from the soil in which I have been planted. Learning how to rest, even if I have a lot going on. Planning for the future with open hands and a willing heart. And most of all, enjoying the community and life I find myself in the midst of here.

[And with that, here is a short poem...from me to you]

The season is upon us
Fall, so swiftly arriving

We kindle fires and hearts
We gather wood and memories
We set aside our summer fancies
And stretch our legs before we rest

We breathe the air and feel it
Fall, so swiftly arriving

//

What does Fall mean to you?

On Songwriting

2008-09-28T22:39:00.000-05:00

[Thoughts by the oh-so-clever David Crowder]

"Songwriting is like trying to/listening to a conversation through the wall. It's like you're trying to make out one word and then you make out another word and you have to make sense of the sentence out of those couple of words. So you've surely got to be quite perceptive/quiet. Usually the melody comes a split second before the vowels and the sibilance. You kind of see them. Or feel them rather, like climbing down a ladder at night. You put your foot down and there's another rung. Well you put your mind down and there's another meaning and a sense of what it is. Then you put them all together.

There's a trick to it like focusing your eyes. Like talking to someone, only you can't quite hear them, and you feel kind of stupid because they're so much more clever than you. Sometimes the ideas just hover and shimmer in the air so delicately, like a soap bubble and you dare not even look at it directly in case it burst. But you're familiar with the way of ideas and you let it shimmer looking away, thinking about something else. And on the slightest of breezes/breaths it floats down glistening all the way into the palm/most tender part of your outstretched hand/heart."

//

I apologize for the silence as of late. I haven't much excuse but for the fact that it is a busy season of life, and I'm loving every bit of it. More on that soon.

A Little Afternoon Banter...

2008-09-17T15:09:00.000-05:00

I got inspired today and thought to pose a quite, um, hard-hitting question to a random selection of my friends. Here is the question, in all its splendor:

How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could Chuck Norris?

And the replies:

John
About 3 bushels an hour.

Kitt
Chuck Norris would roundhouse kick the woodchuck. It would never chuck again.

Kevin
More than some but less than others.

Matt
None. No one could chuck Norris.

Simon
Oh my, that's deep. I can't just give you an answer just like that. I'll have to ponder it for a while. Perhaps pray about it.

Amber
Endless amounts.

Megan
Absolutely none. Chuck Norris would more than likely chuck the woodchuck.

Rhema
The whole Red Wood forest!

//

[Update]

Here are a few more to add the mix, as seen via my Facebook note of a similar nature.

Larry
?norris chuck could chuck wood a if chuck chuck wood a would wood much How

Ben
No wood chuck could Chuck Norris, it would break its teeth on his sinewy goodness.

Jessica
I don't know, but I did eat squirrel meat once.

Rhema (again)
And I ate quail eggs once.

James (currently living it up in France)
You can eat kangaroo in France...

Matt S (favorite!)
It depends. If the woodchuck got on a train heading west from New York at 9:52am, and Chuck Norris got on a train heading east from Chicago at 12:42pm, and both trains were traveling at 52 mph (average), then if the size of the woodchuck's train (the cargo amount of wood to chuck) is inversely proportional to the velocity of Chuck Norris' fist upon arrival, and...and...ohh...

[I have the best friends! ha ha]

//

So tell me...what would your answer be?

Positive Post Tuesday [the triumphant return]

2008-09-16T09:53:00.000-05:00

The cool kids over at ...in case you were wondering are at it again, and today, I decided to rejoin the bandwagon and pen a positive post. This Positive Post Tuesday is dedicated to none other than my mom and dad.

I could write a million words and still not have enough to say what these two mean to me. To me, they represent constancy, fidelity, strength, beauty, perseverance, legacy, love, wisdom and soundness (to name a few). And although I know they are mere humans and that we all have our flaws, God has used them so mightily in my life, my brothers' lives, the lives of our family members and in so many other peoples' lives. It never ceases to amaze me at how active they stay in the church and in the community. They are always reaching out to someone, be it as simple as having lunch and praying with a friend, or giving away things like cars and computers. They aren't extravagantly rich (by the standards of this world). They just have willing hearts, and they pay attention to where God tells them to give.

I love how my dad sends me pix and text messages every week and his silly jokes that he makes in the process. I cherish the time my mom and I spend on the phone every Tuesday talking about a book in the Bible we're reading together and catching up on life. I love the way my dad throws his head back, squints his eyes and squeaks a little bit when he laughs really hard. I love the way my mom tears up at the happy endings of a movie and the way I realize how alike we are, more and more every day. In other words, I am grateful for the healthy, life-giving relationship I have with my parents, and I realize how rare it is this day and age.

I cannot even count how many times and ways they have been there for me, and I hope to be even half as good a parent as they have been to me and my brothers. I miss them and wish they weren't 850 miles away from me sometimes...but, in the words of my dad, "There's no distance in prayer." And top it off, my dad even reads my blog from time to time. He's pretty Google-savvy and managed to find me without my knowing! All that from the guy who sometimes refers to the computer as "the confuser." Whatta fella. So Dad, if you're reading this...I love you! Show this to Mom!

Happy Positive Post Tuesday, folks!

[Want to see more Positive Posts or even do your own? Pass it on and link to your post here!]

Abide.

2008-09-10T14:20:00.001-05:00

I stepped outside this morning to a gentle rain. I love this weather.

//

Recently, I launched a new photography site and also a new photoblog (for those of you who don't have Flickr accounts). Some of you may recall that I originally launched my photography under the name "Oklahoma Sky." Upon reconsideration, and after some thought, prayer and inspiration, I settled on the name Abide Photography. I plan to tell the story of that process in the near future.

All this is quite exciting for me, actually! There is still a lot of design and content in the works...but stay tuned and feel free to peruse what I have posted so far on both sites.

Cheers.

Breaking the Silence

2008-09-07T21:52:00.000-05:00

I find myself peering out the window, waiting for the relentless clouds to yield something more than shade. More than a drop in the temperature. More than a change of the day’s ambiance. I want so badly for it to come, because I know it marks the changing of a season. I feel it coming, moving around inside of me. And therein lay my daily frustration, wrapped up in the absence of something I know I need, but am unsure if I truly want.

Rain.

While I wait, I have recognized that I am caught up in a familiar game, oftentimes repeating things over again.

It is a game of give and take. Catch and release. Fight or flight. Stretched out behind me are endless lines I have drawn in the sand, then crossed, then drawn again. Something has to give. And I know, without doubt, that what must give is me.

Give. Take.

I caught a glimpse of what it could be. There was something in his eyes. In the composition of a photograph. In the sound of a friend’s new song. It was more than just his song. It was a song for all of us, because we are as family. But if I am to truly thrive and learn to abide with the community around me, I must be willing to let it go. In truth, it is obedience that brings the release.

Catch. Release.

Some days I fight. I approach boldly the issues I with which I wrestle. I set out with the best of intentions. But so often, I give into the very human reaction of flight. Full tilt in the opposite direction. Except I am hardly flying, because I feel my feet firmly bound to this earth. They drag against the momentum we worked so hard to gain. And although progress is not entirely lost, it is slowed. Sometimes I fall forward. Sometimes I fall backward. Sometimes He just holds me in place. And every time…there is grace.

Fight. Flight.

I intently watch the horizon, waiting for that ominous cloud to make an appearance. I am out of words. Out of excuses. Tired of the sound of my own voice asking questions and the finite sayings inside my head. In my restlessness, I hear You speak.

You’re waiting, but are you really thirsty?

I need salt on my tongue. Something to jar loose the block between Him and I. But it comes back around to the place where He leads and I obey. He moves and I respond. I try so hard to make myself change that I forget that He is the Creator. The unmoved mover. The maker of my dreams. The mender of my heart. The lifter of my head.

And so I wait. Patiently. Impatiently. Quietly. Imperfectly. All the while, growing closer to His heart. With every passing hour, I feel Him drawing closer. I sense deeply the change that is afoot. I feel it coming, and obediently stay where I am.

I am waiting for the rain.

Sabbath

2008-08-04T08:27:00.000-05:00

Those of you that often visit my little corner of the web may have noticed a few changes (missing posts and such). I am taking some time to re-evaluate a few things in my life, and consequently taking a full step back from things like blogging and other social networking sites. I will still be around, reading and commenting here and there, but I am taking a break from publishing my writing and photography for a bit.

So for now, lovely readers of my blog, I must bid you adieu.

-R

[You could always check out some of the cool kids on my blogroll, ya know...]

Rocky Mountain High

2008-07-21T01:03:00.000-05:00

The silence of the mountains drew me in and took my breath away. The thin air filled my lungs with a vengeance and I could feel every heart beat. The higher we climbed, the freer I felt. In many ways, I was at home there.

12,000 feet. You met me there.

The blood in my veins was pounding fiercely against the camera strap around my neck. We reached the top of the trail and I watched as a handful of my friends cautiously traipsed around the tundra, taking care not to step on the lichens. I hung back for a while, hesitant to scale the set of boulders they had set their sights on. I hid behind my camera (my new addiction) and tried my best to capture the incredible scene around me. The unharnessed beauty of the mountains. The clouds that enveloped us. The chill of the tundra and the raw of the wild. My camera was useful, but it wasn’t the same as actually being up there.

Well, there’s no time like the present, my new friend Matt said, looking toward the thing that scared me most. It pushed me over the edge.

It’s just a rock, anyhow…

Somehow, I ended up there with them, after some prodding and a helping hand or two. Once I stopped clinging to the jagged rock beneath me and got up off my hands and knees, I took a deep breath and realized we were in the clouds. The wind picked up and pushed one toward us. We were taken aback as the misty cool touched our faces and slipped through our fingertips.

I came alive again.

It was in my lungs. My heart. My being. God met me there, in my breathless panic brought on by the insecurity of a high, unfamiliar place. I am terrified of heights, but yet I do things like ride the biggest rollercoaster at the amusement park, jump out of an airplane at 10,000 feet or climb up a boulder on the Rocky Mountain tundra. Even if it didn’t seem so daunting to my faithful companions, it was a significant moment for me.

I discovered my heart at 12,000 feet. Part of it is still there, tucked away next to a lake in the mountains that you can only see if you look closely enough. And even though coming alive exposed some deeply buried hurt in my heart, it also brought out a side of me that had long been dormant. It was a beautiful thing. I knew I would never be the same.

I held my hand against the momentum of the wind rushing around the car. I let the mountain air envelope me one last time and craned my neck to the west to look at those majestic peaks before they were swallowed up by the concrete of the city around us, and then by the expanse of the plains. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time, driving away from that place.

We had chased the sun to Colorado, and now we followed it home.

I feel alive, and it hurts for a change…I’m never going back to okay. I’m never going back to the way it was, the voice on the radio sang.

God has a way of speaking to me like that. Many times on the long drive home, I would be talking with my faithful friend/traveling companion or thinking about something, and a song would come on that would complement the moment perfectly. It usually left me speechless.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the mountains. The moments I knew God was there with me. The fond memories I created with some of my dearest friends. The uncontrollable laughter we shared and the adventures we conquered. These are times I know I will look back on for the rest of my life. This trip was both a beginning and an end…and I came out of it deeply changed.

Two full weeks later, I finally feel like I’m all here again. Sitting on my bed in the unassuming lands of Oklahoma, trying unsuccessfully to get to sleep. It took a weekend of worshipping Jesus to bring me back around. Singing and playing in a room at a church at 3 a.m. with my friends asleep on couches. We dedicated 24 hours to simply seeking and worshipping God. People came and went. Some paced, some sprawled out on the floor, some sat and prayed, some journaled and sang along, some slept. At times there was a full band, and other times the 2-hour sets were led humbly by a guy with dreadlocks and a guitar. In the end, it made me realize that I am right where I belong.

For as long as it took me to unwind from my trip, to pace (read: struggle) through a hectic couple of weeks and finally have some time to breathe and rest, I am so grateful for the faithfulness of my Father. As long as there is breath in my lungs and a heart inside me that beats, I will sing His praise and live out my life for Him. I know that My heart is in His hands.

And so it begins...