the state we're in

Kendrick and I were so fortunate to be able to attend a Weekend to Remember marriage conference this past weekend.  It was an incredible weekend of learning, conviction, and connection that I think will really “stick to our ribs,” if you will.

But all of that was threatened on Friday afternoon as I faced a major blow-up at the office.  I won’t go into any details (it sounds more impressive if I leave it shrouded in mystery), but regardless of how major or minor it actually was, it felt MAJORURGENTMELTDOWNANDPANICNOW! In fact, the last thing I did before I hurried out that afternoon to pick up a friend and leave town was listen to a partner in our firm rant to me about how pissed off he was, angrily searching for someone to blame.  And although his anger wasn’t pointed at me, I was the lucky recipient all the same.

I was shaking when I got to my car, overcome with fear, anxiety and guilt (is it possible I could have done something 6 months ago to prevent the present crisis?  it’s possible).  I wasn’t sure how I was going to calm down and enjoy the weekend, but God was so gracious.  At 6:30pm on Friday, as we were pulling into the conference hotel, I got a very calming phone call from the most unlikely source–my boss.  His lack of concern over the situation was just what I needed to put my mind at ease and I was filled me with gratitude for the reminder of how the Lord cares for us in the details of our lives.

I loved the weekend, even knowing that the crisis was waiting for me back at the office.  I was convicted by this quote from David Martyn Lloyd-Jones in our weekend workbooks: “Faith is the refusal to panic,” and I had some of my favorite girls praying Isaiah 30:15 for me as I returned to work: “This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says: ‘In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength…’”  My lingering anxiety revealed my small faith, but I truly did find peace and grace in repentance.

via D.Fletcher

Finally, on our way into downtown this morning, I saw the faintest rainbow up in the sky.  Immediately, my heart swelled and I remembered God’s promise of protection.  This time, instead of anxiety, I was overcome with peace and a certainty that God would resolve this situation in his compassion and sovereignty.  I didn’t know what that would look like, but I received His promise and let go of all my worrying and striving.

I love searching the sky for God’s handiwork and have a (not always appreciated) habit of exclaiming wildly (some might say dramatically) when I catch sight of a pretty moonscape.  My habit of claiming the rainbow as a personal promise to me is pretty new, but I think it’s biblical and I think it makes God happy when we hear His voice and remember His promises.  How does God speak to you through creation?

By the way, I’m happy to report that, as of lunchtime today, the issue has been resolved and is now in my rearview mirror.  Tied up neatly with a bow.

I have set My bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth.
Genesis 9:13

Have you ever loved a friend more than they loved you?  Is that one of those seemingly solitary experiences that’s actually much more universal than it feels?

Have you ever let that experience make you feel intrinsically unlovable?  I was deep in that crummy spot recently.  I opened my heart to God, desperate for some perspective and for reassurance.  What came to me were the words of an old hymn.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus, look full in His wonderful face.
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.”

I thought that was such a tender way to pull me out of my pity party and remind me of the one true source of unfailing love.  As I focused on Christ, I felt washed in His love and mercy as the pain of this earthly relationship became blurry and slipped out of focus.  I still want a deeper relationship with this person, but I’m no longer looking at myself through the lens of that insufficiency and (perceived) judgment.  I can be content with less than I would like when I focus instead on the MORE I have in Christ.  He takes me from insufficiency to “my cup overflows;” from longing for deeper connection to being fully known inside and out; from questioning my worth to knowing I am fearfully and wonderfully made, fully known and fully loved; from feeling sorry for myself to worshiping and reveling in Him.

He’s awesome like that.

As the deer pants and longs for the water brooks, so I pant and long for You, O God.  My inner self thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God?…Why are you cast down, O my inner self? And why should you moan over me and be disquieted within me? Hope in God and wait expectantly for Him, for I shall yet praise Him, Who is the help of my countenance, and my God.
Psalm 42:1-2, 11

This is a pretty common sight in our household: one of us perched precariously on the edge of what is clearly Harvey’s rolly chair.  He generously gives us a few inches of real estate up front so we can sit at the desk, too.  You can tell he’s pretty put out by it though.

Even my adorable 6 year old nephew, Jeb, had something to say about it when he came to visit recently. “Don’t sit in the rolly chair,” he whispered urgently and conspiratorially to my mother-in-law. “You’ll get white all over your pants!”

It might be time to pull out the vacuum cleaner if…your cleaning habits are (innocently) criticized by a 6 year old boy.  As a general rule, they’re not exactly known for being fastidious, are they?

ps. “Vacuum” is one of those words I always, always, always misspell on the first go round.

Create a MySpace Playlist at MixPod.com

I played soccer for the first time when I was 5.  My team, the Blue Angels, won nearly every game, if memory serves me.  (… and after each game, my coach would give each player a pack of Garbage Pail Kids cards as a congratulatory gift.  Mine were summarily thrown away and replaced with baseball cards from Circle K, which was my foot in the door to loving another beautiful game, but that’s neither here nor there.)

The Blue Angels were good—really good.  At the tender age of 6, I joined my next team—the Bears.  The Bears lost every game and were an utter mess, and it didn’t take more than a few games before we saw the humor in it and gave ourselves another moniker.

If anyone would have swept soccer under the rug and moved on to something else, it would have been a member of the Bad News Bears.  But not this kid.  My love of the beautiful game has been mercurial at times, but like a long strip of toilet paper on the bottom of an unwitting shoe, soccer has stuck to me ever since.

Since J and I don’t have cable—much less the special sports tier on which I could follow my favorite European teams—it can be a bit tough to keep up with things in the soccer world.  Reading online about a low header that hits the back of the net off of a beautifully curving corner kick just doesn’t have the same allure as actually seeing it in the context of the game.  Fortunately, the more I think about it, the more our lack of cable may contribute to the poorly-throttled excitement and exhilaration I feel every fourth summer when the World Cup is around the corner.

With that exhilaration in mind, and with the World Cup less than a day away, I wanted to recap some of my memories from the last several World Cups.

1994: “My salad days, when I was green in judgment…”  The US hosted the Cup, made it to the Round of 16 and was ousted by Brazil.  That we were eliminated on the 4th of July—while my cousins and I ran back and forth between a swimming pool and the broadcast—just added insult to injury.  The national team’s uniforms were a disgrace (see below).  Alexi Lalas’s hair and goatee were decidedly not a disgrace (see below).  I watched the final between Brazil and Italy at Gran’s, and Brazil won on penalty kicks (letdown).  A couple of my friends got really lucky and were able to see Spain and South Korea play at the Cotton Bowl early on in the Cup, and I envied them for it… especially the one that wasn’t even a soccer fan!

1998: France hosted the World Cup in ‘98, which was convenient because I spent much of the summer of ‘98 in France through a short-term exchange program.  I didn’t get to attend any of the games since none were being played in Normandy, but the experience of watching games in French with 6 to 10 crazed Frenchmen and women was one I’ll never forget.  France won the Cup that year, of course, on the shoulders of an epic performance in the final by Zinedine Zidane.  As fate would have it, my exchange partner and I watched the final in English in Texas with 6 to 10 Americans.  It wasn’t quite the same experience.

2002: With the Cup being played in Japan & South Korea, games routinely kicked off between 2 and 4 am.  Additionally, my roommates and I didn’t have ESPN.  Obviously, the only sane solution was to wake up in the middle of the night and drive across town to a friend’s apartment to watch the games.  It was worth it, since the US beat a once-in-a-generation Portugal team that many picked to win the Cup.  Thanks to a second Portugal loss at the hands of South Korea, the US squeaked into the Round of 16 to face Mexico.  Our glory in shutting out El Tri was short-lived, however, as we were snuffed out by Germany in the quarterfinals.  Reigning champs France self-destructed completely and were eliminated without scoring a single goal!

2006: J and I got married in the summer of 2006, and the World Cup started while we were on our honeymoon.  Naturally I wasn’t able to see many games during the group stages.  We honeymooned in a tiny village in northern Italy, and with the Azzuri fielding a strong team (if not a boring one), there was a lot of excitement around.  On a night halfway through the group stage, we walked into the town square to find a big projection screen set up with a couple hundred frenzied soccer fans watching a broadcast—I felt like I had been cast 50 years back in time, and I still grin ear-to-ear when I think of it.  I also recall taking a day trip to Verona, where we saw a bunch of US fans draped in US flags, sitting at a cafe gathered around a television, while they were ribbed & heckled by the other 95% of the crowd.  The back-and-forth between the US fans and everyone else was good-natured and really funny.

2010: There are a lot of good players out with injuries, but this year still has me feeling all tingly.  Obviously Spain is poised to go deep in the tournament, if not win it outright.  They have blazing speed and rare talent at nearly every position.  Their midfield is All-Universe (Xavi, Andrés Iniesta, Cesc Fàbregas) and they have two of the best strikers in Europe (Fernando Torres and David Villa).

One of my favorite players and in my opinion the best striker in the world is Argentinean Lionel Messi.  Check out this video and try and tell me this guy won’t have a strong Cup.  I would say 40% of the goals in this clip were literally undefendable.

If you’re feeling uninterested in the Cup, or overwhelmed at the number of players you know nothing about, or disconnected because soccer isn’t popular in the US, I urge you to simply consider the drama.  Spain is a powerhouse, but they are beatable—even by a good-but-not-great US team, who defeated them last year in the Confederations Cup.  I dare you to watch the highlights of that game below and not get sucked into the drama…

… and remember that games with this much drama, tension, and excitement occur almost daily during the World Cup.

I really needed to read this this morning:

People do not drift toward holiness. Apart from grace-driven effort, people do not gravitate toward godliness, prayer, and obedience to Scripture, faith, and delight in the Lord.

We drift toward compromise and call it tolerance;

we drift toward disobedience and call it freedom;

we drift toward superstition and call it faith.

We cherish the indiscipline of lost self-control and call it relaxation;

we slouch toward prayerlessness and delude ourselves into thinking we have escaped legalism;

we slide toward godlessness and convince ourselves we have been liberated.

— D.A. Carson, via Matt Chandler.

It’s taking me a little longer than expected to get through the photos from our most recent escapade, but I wanted to share a few quick snapshots I took with my phone while we were in Alaska a couple of weeks ago.  There will be an avalanche of Alaska photos over the next couple of weeks, so prepare thyself.

Chillaxin’ in Hoonah after an afternoon of whale watching.

 

At Mendenhall Glacier in Juneau.

 

Mendenhall growlers.

 

Leaving Haines after what was accidentally the best day ever.

 

Ferrying back to the ship from Haines.

 

Hubbard Glacier.

 

Seward, AK.

 

We took a train from Seward up to Anchorage… it was about as awesome as you’d expect a train ride in Alaska to be.

 

 

In Anchorage, we had finally made it far enough north that the sun barely set.

This post was inspired by Beth and PostCarden and is dedicated to K and his family.  I must seem like an alien invader in your family when you are unanimously psyched about the next/last {insert any sport here} game and my eyes glaze over as I go to my happy place (dreaming about dessert, obvs).  But I know the World Cup holds a special place in your hearts and I hope I can understand a little bit more of that this year.  I’m sending you all artful and clever football gardens in my heart!

Now please just go with it when I sound like Brian Regan watching the games: “Go my favorite sports team! Score a goal unit basket!”

Maeby’s mischievous nature goes into overdrive the moment she hears sheets rustling on a bed.  Here she is helping me take the sheets off to wash.

Here she is post-wash.  I had to stick my head under the fitted sheet to get this cozy shot.  She loves it!

In case you’re curious, Harvey was his typical oasis of chill in the living room.

Not a bad way to pass a Sunday afternoon, especially if you spent the morning wrangling not-quite-3 year olds.