Sanctuary

About 2 miles off the road and hidden against the mountain is a sanctuary.  I first drove onto the grounds of this sanctuary when I was 16, newly licensed and needing to find a job. The circles I ran in brought word of an opening in the King James Dining Room at Glen Eyrie, a local castle serving as a retreat and conference center and owned by The Navigator's.  I suppose I filled out an application, perhaps had an interview, I'm sure appropriate tax forms were filled out.  I remember none of that.  I only remember the early mornings and late nights driving the winding roads to the castle, exiting the hustle and bustle of Colorado Springs and entering the stillness, silence, and calm of Glen Eyrie.  I adored it.  Even though I was coming to work I felt like I was entering into a peaceful place.  The reality is, I was.  Glen Eyrie is magic. The further off of 31st Street you get and the closer the castle appears the more its magic weaves itself into the air you breathe.

I worked in the King James Dining Room for approximately 2 1/2 years.  In that time I served countless groups of people breakfast, lunch, dinner. I got to participate in serving at the Madrigal Dinner the Castle hosts each year at Christmas time. It was the perfect first job. My favorite times to be on the winding dark roads of Glen Eyrie were in the early mornings.  I would turn off my radio as I went through the front gate and I would let the silence and magic of The Glen seep into my car and my being.  I didn't really recognize it then as I do now, but it was as if my soul was taking a deep breath.

Throughout the years since I have been fortunate enough to visit The Glen on and off, mostly for day retreats and once for a place of retreat as depression weighed on my heart.  Years ago as God was leading me through some necessary closure in my life, I stole on to the grounds and sat beneath a large tree in the expanse of grass and found the closure I needed to move forward. Sometimes you don't realize how important a place is until you almost lose it.

In the summer of 2012 the Waldo Canyon fire ate its way through some of our closer mountains, took a local landmark, The Flying W Ranch, and destroyed a large portion of a neighborhood that sat against the mountain the fire jumped to.  Anxiously watching the fire inch closer and closer to Glen Eyrie, they finally had to evacuate and pray.  There was nothing more to be done.  Fire teams were doing all they could to beat the fire into submission but it had a mind of its own and where it went they just had to follow and try to contain.  When all was said and done, Glen Eyrie was safe.  Just barely. If you look up at the ridge right above the castle you see scorched trees and a clear line where the fire ceased burning down the mountain.  Glen Eyrie had been spared.  As a community we breathed a sigh of relief.  We had already lost the Flying W and to the lose The Glen in addition to that plus all the homes felt like too much.  It already was too much for our shocked and soot covered hearts.

A month ago my hub whisked me away for a surprise weekend.  I was told to pack comfy and casual, that's all I knew.  I was so intrigued, where could we be going?  And then he turned off of 31st Street and began to wind his way toward the front gate of The Glen. Oh my. My heart stilled, I grabbed his hand. "Really? We are staying here this weekend?"  Really, we were. What a true gift.  I'm not sure he knew how important this place was to my heart.  It was a sanctuary for me.  We stepped out of the car at the Carriage House to check in. And the magic of The Glen was already working on me.  The silence and calm of it was the first thing to hit my senses as we exited the car.  I felt my soul take a deep breath.

It was a glorious weekend. The weather was the last perfect weather we were going to have for quite some time, my hub and I needed this time alone after some rough years of marriage and parenting and so the company was fantastic, the cabin room he reserved for us was in one of the more special cabins on the property and was an amazing retreat space for us.  The front porch of the cabin has these huge wooden swings and we spent time, silently holding hands and rocking, on that porch. After breakfast the first morning we were debating where to walk and how to spend our day. Walking out the front door of the castle my eye caught a stand of sorts.  Curious I walked to it and saw that The Glen had created a prayer walk through its grounds and this was one of the stops.  The weather

was incredible, I was reluctant to be indoors.  We had eaten a great breakfast but needed to walk it off and we had no plans at all for the day.  So the hub and I walked the grounds of The Glen according to the prayer walk and spent time communing with one another and with God.  We took our time, enjoying the weather, the grounds, the peace of The Glen, the prayer with each other and with the Lord.  I saw the magic of The Glen begin to work on my hub and it led to good and important conversation.  We began to feel a sense of ease that we hadn't felt in quite some time.  After many hours of the amazing weather and prayer time around the property we took a nap and knew we would need to leave that evening for a brief time to get some dinner.  I was reluctant to leave, even for just an hour or two.  My soul was enjoying the peace and the quiet and I was feeling hesitant about reentering into the hustle of life.  I had reconnected that day with my sanctuary and wanted to take full advantage of our time there.

Throughout the day I kept looking up at the ridge where the fire threatened to roll down the mountain and consume such a special place.  I couldn't help but feel emotional, realizing how close I and so many others came to losing such a magical place.  I also kept thinking of the middle ages custom of claiming "sanctuary" from legal action and from enemies.  The church back then would honor the person and assist them in making restitution or in escaping from a danger on their life. I thought about how these days the church is no longer the sanctuary it should be. People come for help, healing, and hope and instead are shunned, judged, and left open to more injury.  No longer can we really enter a structure that calls itself a church or house of God and claim sanctuary.  God alone, in his presence, is the only place that we can claim sanctuary and know that we will receive it.  The Glen was my sanctuary.  The Glen is my sanctuary.  It is where I feel the deepest connection to God, most likely because of the magic of it.  Peace, calm, silence, and serenity blanket me from the moment I turn off of 31st Street.

When we finally left Glen Eyrie that weekend to head for home I was refreshed in my spirit, hopeful that my hub was as well, but not ready for the noise of life which I knew would assault our senses as we turned on to 31st Street.  I prepared by reminding myself that the place I claim sanctuary is always a short car drive away and I can always be in the presence of God and his peace because he lives in me.  Later that night we were at home, our redheads were chattering, the television was on, and my hub turned to me and said, "Can we go back?"

Fainthearted

Life takes courage doesn't it?  And the older I get the more I realize that pretty much every aspect of life takes courage.  I have to be brave in my marriage, bold in my parenting, confident in my relationships, and audacious in living out the mission I am called to.

But what about the days that you crack your eyes open and feel the weariness of life in your bones and you want to pull the covers over your head and escape into sleep once again?  What about those days? The fainthearted do just that, they roll over on their side and pull the sheet up and over themselves to keep the reality of life at bay.  The ones who aren't fainthearted but aren't entirely present will take a few minutes to rise and face the day but they will eventually get on their feet.  And the ones who have determined to not let weariness win will get up and face the day with spirit.  Here's the secret about the determined, even they have weariness of life in their bones.  But the determined are unflinching in their resolve to not let weariness win over courage.  They believe that somewhere deep within themselves their courage is a greater strength than the weakness of life's realities.

I'm feeling so fainthearted these days.  My life as a parent is really weighing down my heart.  We've hit a rough season.  I confess that I feel so weary in parenting right now that all I really want to do is pull the covers over my head.  I don't want to be present and I'm not feeling all that determined.  That's the confession of my flesh.  The Spirit in me gives me the courage I need to do and say the hard things.  My bones protest as I rise but I know I have to rise.  I have a responsibility, given to me by God, to raise these children to the very best of my ability and with his strength and wisdom.  I have a responsibility to make sure they are as healthy as possible not just physically but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually as well.  And sometimes that responsibility means the hub and I have to do and say some hard things.  Things that the redheads think are unfair but things we know in the long-run are ensuring health.  Things that they might not see as protection in the moment but we know are.

In my life the weariness of this task comes when the redheads forget that we are for them and not against them.  When they slander us to their friends and we find out.  When they make choices to lie about "little" things so then we can't trust they are telling the truth with the "bigger" stuff.  When they figure out ways to subtly manipulate us and we know it.  When they disrespect us, take advantage of us, and do it in such sly and silent ways that it is almost missed.  When they hurt our feelings because parents can get, and do get, their feelings hurt too.

When I held them as newborns this wasn't part of the plan.  :)  Oh, don't think I was living some fairy tale that my children would be the ones who wouldn't rebel or be angry or have problems.  But I had hope that it would be more of the minor stuff than the major stuff.  And it is, depending on your personal definition of minor and major.  But even the minor stuff can lead to weariness.  And I am weary with anxiety over them, with sadness that trust has been broken and now we must rebuild - which is so hard to do, with confusion as to where it turned around on us, with fear that I will lose my precious babies.  I am weary with the hurt feelings and with trying to remember it isn't personal even when it feels like it is.

At some point, as my Mama pointed out the other day, "this too shall pass".  And I know that in my head but travel about 18 inches down to my heart and I'm not so sure.  At some point I won't be as fainthearted over parenting and it will shift to another area of life.  Until recently it was marriage, now it isn't.  At various times it's been with relationships, and to love others as God does, and has asked me to, is downright hard sometimes and I can too easily become fainthearted in that mission.

There is help and relief for the weariness but I keep forgetting about it.  I forget that I don't have to shoulder the burden I feel in parenting, or marriage, or relationships.  I can transfer the burden to shoulders far more capable than mine.  But I forget it too often.  And when I do remember, I struggle with how to transfer the burden and not try to shoulder some of it still.  But when I can give the burden to someone who can carry it there rushes in this amazing peace and rest and I no longer feel the need to pull the covers over my head.

"Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Put My yoke upon your shoulders—it might appear heavy at first, but it is perfectly fitted to your curves. Learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble of heart. When you are yoked to Me, your weary souls will find rest. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30)

What has been weighing you down recently?  What tempts you to stay in bed with the covers pulled over your head these days?  Have you thought about transferring that burden to the more capable shoulders of the One who created you?  How could that change the way you feel or respond to the current cause of being fainthearted?

Curves and Edges

Have you heard the song by John Legend called "All of me"? There is one line that makes me really pause and consider it's deeper meaning:

'Cause all of me

Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you

That line in the midst of the lines that surround it has me really thoughtful about relationships, specifically the marriage relationship.  I've got curves and edges and I'm not talking about my physical body. My moods have curves and edges, my behaviors have curves and edges, my feelings have curves and edges and my marriage is the one relationship where those curves and edges are probably the most seen and felt.  If my hub were honest (and he oftentimes is not when it comes to me which means I have to be more honest about myself than I prefer) he would say that in the past couple of years I've had more edges than curves.  I could give you a list of reasons and excuses and about 99% of them would be valid and make sense.  But that doesn't give me an excuse to live with my husband in edges and not curves. Some of the edges are my own fault, I need to own what I have contributed to.  And with the edges created by circumstances, conflicts, and misunderstandings I still don't have an excuse to be edgy with this man that I entered into covenant with so many years ago.

The amazing thing about my edges is that my hub chooses to love me in spite of them.  He treats edgy Beth the same way he treats curvy Beth.  Yet I remain edgy with him. I haven't allowed his curves to soften my edges.  Somehow in spite of my numerous edges and lack of curves, specifically with my hub, he is able to say that he loves my curves and all my edges. Clearly I have a lot more work to do in the true love department than he does.  

I've been pondering how to soften my edges and turn them into curves. I have a lot of work to do I think. Let me be a little more honest. I know, not think, I have a lot of work to do.  My Type A nature tends to despair when faced with work to do and I can't figure out how to get it done.  But in my 30's my Type A nature has been reined in during those moments by the truth of Philippians 1:6. I am a work in progress.  My hub married a work in progress and I married a work in progress when I said "I do" to him.  Then we had two redheads who are works in progress and none of us are complete yet.  The beautiful truth is that we are promised to not be left incomplete, the truth is that we will be finished according to the design of our Creator. Thank goodness! It's true that I can stall the work in progress when I won't allow my edges to be sanded down into curves.  But I've grown up enough to want the sanding to proceed.  I don't want to be edgy with my hub, I want to be curvy with him.  Grace is showing me the ways in which I need sanding, hope is showing me I can have more curves than edges, love is showing me that my hub's curves can soften my edges - if only I will allow it.

I don't know what John Legend's intended meaning for that line was but each time I hear it I am struck with the picture of my hub having to live with edgy Beth and not curvy Beth.  And while he loves me as is I am challenged to do the hard work of sanding so that my edges transform into curves and our marriage reflects the softer lines of covenant relationship.