Abundance in drought.

Waiting, waiting.

Pressure builds.

You'd think eventually the top would pop off.

Sides are threatening to explode at their seams.

Seams that I didn't know where there until their strength was tested.

Surely there can't be anymore room?

But there is. Always, it seems.

I don't know from where it all comes.

It's like someone put an undetectable extension charm on my life.

I don't care so much that no one else can detect it, but it'd be nice if I could sometimes. Save me a lot of grief.

But then where would be the room for grace?

If there was infinite space and I knew it, grace wouldn't find a hole big enough to inhabit.

But with all crevices stuffed to their limits, grace multiplies.

It abounds.

...and here's where I quote "Rawhide."

I still got it.

What is it I still have? (Other than a propensity to abandon formal grammar on occasion?)

Packing skills. Relocation packing skills. specifically.

After talking about it for a long time, my family and I are preparing to move. "Somethin's gotta give" has been our desperate prayer for a while, and as nothing has shown an inclination to give for a few months now, it has been made clear to us that it's time to go somewhere else. The place we are living is the largest contributor to our burden. Our time here was blessed for a while - a long while - but it seems pretty clear now that it's time to move on.

We've been in this house for 3 years and 5 months. My brothers and I have never lived anywhere nearly that long before. After being stationary for such a time, as I prepared to start packing a box, I momentarily wondered if I would have to pack and repack it a few times to figure out how to use its space most efficiently. For those who don't know, packing is a skill. Like most skills it becomes (and stays) more refined with practice. Aside from my frequent weekend trips and summers at camp, my packing skills have not been used in years.

But as it turns out, in this case at least, packing is like riding bike. I shuffled the contents of the box ever so slightly as I was putting them in, but I mostly just looked at the box, looked at my junk, and my brain keenly deduced how to best fill the former with the latter. Thank goodness.

Where and when we're moving we do not yet know. But this isn't the first time we've blindly packed, nor do I expect it to be the last. I do expect this to be the last family move that we make. My parents are keen to relocate somewhere else as soon as they can, and my brother and I are both keen to stay in this area (as well as live by ourselves :) ). Until my parents are ready to do that, though, we need to reduce and simplify. So once more we shall find another place to live together, and fondly think back on all of the wandering memories we've made while making one last set of new ones.

So now I sift through my belongings, deciding what to pack and what to relinquish from my possession. Can you guess what are the only things I've packed so far? Books. What do I still have a lot left to pack? Books. Counting all of my possessions, what makes up the majority of what I own and have to pack? Books. What makes up the majority of what I've decided to get rid of? Books.

So I guess one day if I ever am truly poor and have nothing to eat, I'll have plenty of paper to satisfy me.

But that comment spawns another post altogether....

Film removal.

I stumbled upon a perspective-altering realization last night.

That seems to be happening on a regular basis lately.

But this last one was particularly stealthy and hard to ignore.

I realized that for a long time now I've been wishing I could have my life back. That necessarily implies that I had concluded that my life was gone. I also realized that I had not only concluded my life was gone, but that it had been taken from me, forcefully.

I determined a while ago that I've been going through a "my life is not my own" lesson, a lesson which aligns with feelings that acquaintance with my life has been severed. However, one of the biggest points I've found in this particular lesson is that what God has been doing with my life, whether or not I like it, has been a direct result of a commitment I made to Christ. I gave my life over willingly.

So nothing was taken from me.

But I've been sitting here under the delusion that it has and have been feeling resentful because of it. I've been waiting around for the day when my life will come back to me. When who or whatever took it away will decide that they're done with it and I can once again make its possession mine.

Whoa.

My life hasn't been taken. Furthermore, this is my life; everything that's been happening, everything that has made me feel turned upside down, everything that seems so uncertain, it's all my life. I need to embrace it and disallow myself to be deluded that some other kind of life that I've dreamed up in my head is a reality above what I have now.

Allow me now to quote one of my favorite songs from Derek Webb, one that I sing often: "I am wrong and of these things I repent."

The world has found somebody to love. I knew this would happen.

And it's about time.

Usually, when everybody's talking about something, I'm not. Sometimes - oftentimes - I don't even know about it.

But when someone I know is at the center of all the chatter, I'm more than happy, eager even, to make an exception.

I'm surprised it's taken me so long to post about this, actually.

Marc Martel, guitarist and co-lead singer for the band downhere, submitted an audition video  on Tuesday for a Queen tribute band, set to be called Queen Extravaganza. The contest and eventual tour is the brain child of Queen's drummer Roger Taylor, and while he'll have the final say on who all will be in the band, he launched this search to allow the public to vote on who they want one member of the band to be.

For years, Marc has had dozens of people come up to him after every concert he plays and ask him something along the lines of, "Has anyone ever told you that you sound like that guy from Queen?" So it was almost a no-brainer for him to submit his own audition. Out of the four songs hopefuls had to choose from, Marc picked "Somebody to Love."

If you haven't seen it, watch the video. Even if you have, watch it again. This is 2 minutes and 11 seconds of your life that you will not regret devoting to a blending of audio and visuals.



Impressive? I know the guy and I'm impressed. I even know he could have done better than this and I'm still impressed.

Apparently a lot of other people are too, because the video has over 2 million views as of the time I'm writing this and he's been popping up all over the Internet, television and radio. Wow.

I've known the band downhere for about three years (and been listening to them for about nine). They're not only four of my favorite musicians, but also people I genuinely like to be around. To say I'm proud of Marc is an understatement.

Voting begins November 11th. If things have already been taking off this quickly, I'm excited to see what happens between now and then!

Welcome to my library.

Do you like it?

I've been wanting to revamp the looks of my blog for a long time. For one reason or another I didn't do it. Until tonight.

It's not much but I think it makes a big difference.

I hope it does, anyway.

Again, I ask, do you like it?

What came of packing.

I have a proposition. How about we leave the typical psychological/theological/spiritual/deep reasoning tone that pervades everything I write and talk about something less taxing on the brain? Like fashion.

Seriously.

I've spent much of today both taking a walk down fashion memory lane and shopping in my closet, so such matters have been on my mind.

The stroll down the road of the past was triggered by a cleaning out of my decade-old bag of nail polish. (By the way, if you're wondering whether nail polish really does go bad, give it 8-10 years and it will.) Most people who have only known me since my late teens don't know that I was formerly an obsessive nail painter in my adolescent-mid teen years. My toes nails, that is. They were always painted. And I didn't let the paint chip. I kept them up regularly and changed the color often.

Until the one time that I did let the pain chip and wear. Then it was that I realized my heart was no longer in it. So I stopped all together. Thus my vast nail polish collection sat in its cute pink bag, where it was allowed years to separate and coagulate into pigmented chunks.

Something else that could be said of me in former times is that I was an obsessive and compulsive matcher. That is one of the primary reasons my nail color changed so often: it had to match my clothes. My shoes had to match my clothes. My hair accessories had to match my clothes. My bracelets and necklaces had to match my clothes. Most importantly, my clothes had to match. There was very little color-blending on my person. I was often a monochromatic wonder.

But could you blame me when a sea of one color, even one color in varying shades, brought a calmness over me that few other sights did? That's why I did it. A clash of color brought about turmoil in my senses and I tried to avoid inspiring turmoil with my ensembles by consciously trying to promote peace with them. (Okay, so I couldn't stay away from psychoanalysis altogether. I suppose that's what happens when one gets a degree in thinking. Or maybe I got a degree in thinking precisely because I can't squelch it. Moving on....)

That's only the tip of the iceberg of my obsessive/compulsive tendencies. Internally high-strung and uptight was I. In more recent years, I've become much more laid back. Sloppy even, in certain areas. And when it comes to choosing clothes to wear, I am sometimes downright cavalier with the colors I wear side-by-side. (By the way, a wash of monochromaticism still inspires calm within me. I'm just not as dependent on that calm as I once was. I've actually become somewhat of a chaos-seeker. But that's another conversation entirely.)

This matching vs. non-matching was brought to my attention as I was closet shopping. I'm preparing for a trip and browsing through my closet is something I always end up doing in the process. I usually feel compelled to not wear the same thing too often. Packing for a trip is a prime occasion to plan my outfits ahead of time and see if I can't come up with something I haven't worn before.

In case you're wondering, I was successful in my endeavors this time. I came out with the following color combos: brown, black, red and yellow; blue, pink and grey; blue, purple and yellow. This was one of my more cavalier days.

I also noticed and began to ponder other recent trends in my dress:

• Skirts pop up more often than they did in the past. I quite like to wear them now. When they're the right kind. They inspire a feeling of fun, and as I'm not the kind of person to care above an ounce about either keeping my clothes clean and orderly or appearing ladylike, wearing skirts does not hinder me from being my same sloppy self. Now I just look cuter when I'm doing it. That's what I tell myself.
• I'm a layer queen. Nothing I packed for this weekend is devoid of layers. I have shirts to wear on top of shirts. In the winter, I rarely make a public appearance without tights or leggings underneath my shorts/skirts/dresses. They serve the dual purpose of making my clothes look more interesting and covering my legs so that I don't have to wear pants. I typically consider that to be an accomplishment.
• I've lately been into belts. What inspired me was this really awesome orange one I inherited for free from I can't remember where that's woven out of thick yarn, is tassel-like on the end and looks like something awesome from the '70s. I told myself I had to wear it based on that merit alone. Then my attention was drawn to other belts in my possession that were being neglected. Upon adorning myself with them, I found I liked them.

Something that hasn't changed in a great many years is my distaste for wearing shoes. That's a trend that still continues. If anything, it's intensified. I only wear them because there's a social obligation. Even then, they fall off whenever I think I can get away with it. Along with my relinquishing of matching, this growing dislike of shoes has relieved the pressure of them having to match. I don't wear them enough to worry much about how they fit my ensemble.

Lest you get the wrong impression, I also feel like I should throw in here that it doesn't take me long to get dressed. My swiftness often propels my bold color mixing, because I don't take much time to think it over. I also don't wear anything fancy. Like I said, I'm sloppy and unladylike. Fancy and I aren't friends. At best we're occasional, cordial acquaintances. I also no longer accessorize to the hilt. The most I do is pull up my hair. But I don't even do that often, choosing rather to let it air dry and look like a long mess.

Now it's your turn, friends. What do you like to wear? Something that I don't? Like socks? Or pants? Maybe you like hats? I've been intrigued by hats, but can't decide if they're too much trouble or not....

The book that compelled me to stop everything and write.

I've started reading a remarkable book today. It's called Rees Howells: Intercessor and is written by Norman Grubb. The book is a biography about Rees Howells, a man from Wales who was born in the late 19th Century.

I glanced at a review of the book that Google pulled up and the reviewer described the book as "a mess-up-your-life kind of book." I've only read five chapters and I am beginning to see why she said that.

I just finished chapter five and was so compelled to stop and write about it that here I am now. I never do that with books. I always read them completely before feeling released to make more than small comments about them. This is certainly a unique situation.

I'm going to first quote and summarize what I feel are the pertinent parts in this chapter, then I will give my own commentary. In this passage, Howells is talking about and to the Holy Spirit (all bolded phrases are ones I wish to emphasize):

"'He made it very plain that He would never share my life. I saw the honour He gave me in offering to indwell me, but there were many things very dear to me, and I knew He wouldn't keep one of them. The change He would make was very clear. It meant every bit of my fallen nature was to go to the Cross, and He would bring in His own life and His own nature.'

It was unconditional surrender. From the meeting Rees went out into a field, where he cried his heart out, because, as he said, 'I had received a sentence of death.... I had lived in my body for twenty-six years, and could I easily give it up?...Why does a man struggle when death comes, if it is easy to die? I knew that the only place fit for the old nature was on the cross.... But once this is done in reality, it really is done for ever. I could not run int0 this. I intended to do it, but oh, the cost! I wept for days. I lost seven pounds in weight, just because I saw what He was offering me. How I wished I had never seen it! One thing He reminded me of was that He had only come to take what I had already promised the Saviour, not in part, but the whole. Since He died for me, I had died in Him, and I knew that the new life was His and not mine. That had been clear in my mind for three years....and I saw that only the Holy Ghost in me could live like the Saviour. Everything He told me appealed to me; it was a only a question of the loss there would be in doing it. I didn't give my answer in a moment, and He didn't want me to.'

It took five days to make the decision....

'Nothing is more real to me than the process I went through for that whole week.... The Holy Spirit went on dealing with me, exposing the root of my nature which was self.... Sin was cancelled, and it wasn't sin He was dealing with; it was self - that thing which came from the Fall. He was not going to take any superficial surrender. He put His finger on each part of my self-life, and I had to decide in cold blood. He could never take a thing away until I gave my consent. Then the moment I gave it, some purging took place, and I could never touch that thing again. It was not saying I was purged and the thing still having a hold on me: no, it was a breaking, and the Holy Ghost taking control. Day by day the dealing went on. He was coming in as God, and I had lived as a man, and "what is permissible to an ordinary man," He told me, "will not be permissible to you."'"

He then goes on to list the specific desires of his nature that the Holy Spirit started coming in to replace. First was "the love of money." Next was a desire to make a self-absorbed life. The Holy Spirit would always be reaching out to the world, so Rees would have to as well. Next was ambition. All desires to make something of himself, particularly above another, were not congruent with the life of the Spirit. On the last day of this process, the fifth day, it says that "his reputation was touched." "As the Saviour was despised, he must be willing to be the same."

"By Friday night each point had been faced. He knew exactly what he was offered, the choice between temporal and eternal gain. The Spirit summed the issue up for him: 'On no account will I allow you to cherish a single thought of self, and the life I will live in you will be one hundred per cent for others. You will never be able to save yourself, and more than the Saviour could when He was on earth. Now, are you willing?' He was to give a final answer.

...'I have been dealing with you for five days: you must give Me your decision by six o'clock to-night, and remember, your will must go.' ...It was the final battle on the will.

'I asked Him for more time,' Rees continued, 'but He said, "You will not have a minute after six o'clock." When I heard that it was exactly as if a wild beast was roused in me. "You gave me a free will," I answered, "and now You force me to give it up." "I do not force you," He replied, "but for three years have you not been saying that you are not your own, and that you wanted to give your life back to the Saviour as completely as He gave His life for you?" I climbed down in a second.... "I am sorry," I told Him, "I didn't mean what I said." "You are not forced to give up your will," He said again, "but at six o'clock I will take your decision. After that you will never get another chance." It was my last offer, my last chance!'...

'Once more the question came, "Are you willing?" It was ten minutes to six. I wanted to do it, but I could not. Your mind is keen when you are tested, and in a flash it came to me, "How can self be willing to give up self?" Five to six came. I was afraid of those last five minutes. I could count the ticks of the clock. Then the Spirit spoke again. "If you can't be willing, would you like Me to help you? Are you willing to be made willing?" "Take care," the enemy whispered. "When a stronger person than yourself is on the other side, to be willing to be made willing, is just the same as to be willing." ...It was one minute to six. I bowed my head and said, "Lord, I am willing."'

...'Immediately,' said Rees, 'I was transported into another realm, within that sacred veil, where the Father, the Saviour and the Holy Ghost live. There I heard God speaking to me, and I have lived there ever since. When the Holy Ghost enters, He comes in to "abide for ever." To the Blood be the glory!

'How I adored the grace of God! It is God who goes so far as to give us repentance. It was God who helped me to give up my will. There were some things He had asked for during the week that I was able to give, because I was the master of them, but when He asked me to give up my self and my will, I found I could not - until he pulled me through.'"

Whoa.

Before reading this, I don't think I had ever read or heard someone describe an experience such as this. What about it that impacts me so is not just how profound it is, but the fact that I have felt a similar thing happening in my life (!), only not nearly as dramatic nor as fast. Yet I have felt in many ways like I was a lone island in my experience. I have come to learn that no one is ever a lone island in anything, but as I hadn't encountered a story like this I was still searching for one that could confirm my non-solitary state. I seem to have found it.

I have mentioned in recent posts how I have felt like the theme of my life recently has been "you have no control over your life." Rees's experience here was certainly a confrontation with that, and for whatever reason that God ordained, it was very abrupt and final. While similar, my experience has been slightly different. There has been no five days holed up with God in heightened anguish. There has been little dramatic dialogue. No strict time limits. Nor do I feel as if my life has been devoid of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit before this point.

What I do feel like has been happening is that the Holy Spirit has been reminding me of the commitment I made. "Have you not been saying that you are not your own?," he asks. Yes. I have. Every time I've said it has been sincere, albeit I didn't know to what extent my sincerity would carry me. But God gives grace. And every time I have been challenged recently the Holy Spirit has brought that commitment to my mind. And just like Rees described my will is never taken from me, but whenever I remember that commitment, I relinquish it again, or, more often than not, allow God to help me to be willing to do so.

The section that describes which of the desires of Rees's nature the Spirit started touching and replacing was particularly poignant to me, with the challenging of ambition being the part that I see most in myself. I feel certain that my ambition has been directly and specifically affronted in the past few months. I've noticed ways in which it has also in the past, but never so as intensely as recent times. While I have never been cutthroat in my actions, I am not one to sit and let opportunities pass. I even go so far as to find opportunities when there are none present. In more practical terms, this translates into I am not the kind of person to graduate and then stay home. That's a ludicrous notion. Yet what have I done? Graduated and then stayed home, not desiring anything more than to be faithful to attend the whos and the whats in front of me. I never thought I'd be okay with that, even for just a short season as this one has thus far been.

I do also feel like God has been holding me in the place where I am now in order to allow this time to settle within me. He did the same with Rees in a short span of five days. I'm not sure why my experience has been so much more lengthy and slow than his, but I trust God has his reasons. Regardless of the difference in time and intensity, though, I do connect with Rees's story on that level and am slowly waiting until the time when this is over, which I do trust will come, perhaps in the not-so-distant future, if my feelings are correct.

When asked by a friend recently how I have been, the only answer I gave was to quote a few lines from one of my favorite songs by the band downhere:

"Love's breaking me down

Like waves to stone, over and over

Love's breaking new ground

Changing my every way"

Indeed it has, and my ways have been changing dramatically.

If I have gotten all of this from only 44 pages into a 280 page book, I'm eager to see what will come from the rest of it.