She lives in a house of light
But keeps her eyes tightly closed against the glare of Truth.
Like a small child, she thinks that if she can’t see the light,
from behind her hands as she hides,
That it doesn’t exist.
She lives surrounded by truth
But stops her ears so that it is muted
and almost indiscernible
As if ignored truth ceases to be
thus allowing her to choose another.
She lives among people of light,
But from her vantage point
She sees their transparency as a deficit
Some things are better kept in dark closets,
away from illumination.
Still, light shines in this place
And its primary colors,
Love, mercy and truth
Shimmer off the walls.
They peek from the books on the shelves
And soar in melodies of praise
They resonate in conversations
And hover in whispered prayer.
How much joy she would find
in simply giving in to them.
Oh Lord,
Take away the blindness that keeps Light at bay.
Gently pull her hands away from her eyes
And whisper the truth of Your love to her unhearing ears
And let her see and hear only You.
Kay Stringhm 2001
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Why I Believe
You, no doubt, are sure you know the answer to the above statement. You would say:
You grew up in a Christian home
You’ve gone to church all your life.
You’re a pastor’s wife (twice)!
You became a Christian as a child.
And all of that is true.
It is also true that I believe:
The Bible is true and infallible and relevant.
God is the creator of heaven and earth and you and me.
All of these are reasons. They are all true. But when I think about why I believe, why I have continued to believe and why I have chosen a life of service to the church it all comes down to the relationship I have experienced and continue to experience every day. Let me try to put it into words.
I have awakened in the night, having lost more than I can live without, and known in the depths of my soul that God loves me. I have felt his loving presence, his peace in circumstances that themselves were the opposite of either of peace or love.
I have watched as He has used the experiences of my life, both good and bad, to forge meaning out of loss and resilience and strength from my weaknesses.
I have struggled with the hardest of questions and found great wisdom and help in both God's book and His people.
I have known the pleasure of answered prayer. I have also seen that when the answer is, “no” that his idea of what is good for me far outweighs what I thought would be good.
I have seen transformation in my own soul that is ongoing. I am not who I used to be. I have found courage I did not posses. I have learned to forgive the unforgivable as well as the small daily grievances I encounter. I am learning to both give and recieve grace.
I have been surrounded by a caring, kind, and praying community of people who know it is their reliance on God that makes them strong. Like me, they are imperfect people, in process, aware that our journey together enhances our process.
I have learned that this relationship I am in is not about rules or ritual or religion, but truly is a living, breathing, friendship that goes far beyond any obligation or duty. Jesus does love me, with an intensity that I can’t really fathom. That Love, that person who is love, begs me to respond with as much devotion and worship as I am capable of.
That’s why.
Friday, July 4, 2008
You Catch My Eye
I love this poem. I love the words, the "ointment appointment" and "surround to astound." I didn't write it, but its author has quickly become my favorite. Enjoy.
You Catch My Eye
You catch my eye
In the eye of the storm;
You hold ointment appointments
When hell’s hornets swarm.
When I find no time for stillness
You tell me there’s still time;
When my words are clashing symbols,
You are Reason
Rhythm
Rhyme.
You are the song that rises
In my soul
The coin that clatters in
My begging bowl
You're a bed of roses on a crowded street;
A peppermint balm to my blistered feet.
You are rich in rest,
When rest is radium-rare.
By cool pools you position me
With passion you petition me;
In fog and smog,
You re-condition my air.
You are the unexpected cheer
That lifts my game
In the vinegar and lemon juice of life
You are champagne
Like honey on the throat to Frank Sinatra,
Like a goat's milk bath to Cleopatra
You surround me to astound me
You soothe and smooth.
You are the stalker
Who is good for me;
The jailer
Who can set me free;
The trap and snare
To bind me into love.
You who have refined me
Come find me
Mind me
By grace grind me
And bind me
Gentle jailer
Into love.
© Gerard Kelly, 2004
You Catch My Eye
You catch my eye
In the eye of the storm;
You hold ointment appointments
When hell’s hornets swarm.
When I find no time for stillness
You tell me there’s still time;
When my words are clashing symbols,
You are Reason
Rhythm
Rhyme.
You are the song that rises
In my soul
The coin that clatters in
My begging bowl
You're a bed of roses on a crowded street;
A peppermint balm to my blistered feet.
You are rich in rest,
When rest is radium-rare.
By cool pools you position me
With passion you petition me;
In fog and smog,
You re-condition my air.
You are the unexpected cheer
That lifts my game
In the vinegar and lemon juice of life
You are champagne
Like honey on the throat to Frank Sinatra,
Like a goat's milk bath to Cleopatra
You surround me to astound me
You soothe and smooth.
You are the stalker
Who is good for me;
The jailer
Who can set me free;
The trap and snare
To bind me into love.
You who have refined me
Come find me
Mind me
By grace grind me
And bind me
Gentle jailer
Into love.
© Gerard Kelly, 2004
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Nonconformity
I have raised a bunch of non-conformists. Sometimes that makes me proud; that you are all individuals, with minds of your own. You each have strong (and differing) opinions and not one of you will ever be content with the status quo.
Like I said, sometimes this makes me proud. Other times I want to go beat my head against the wall.
Because it’s not about being different. (Different, than what?) Different is only good if it is better than the alternative. When all the nonconformists sit in the same room, the perspective changes. Funny, they all look alike.
Alike, in that, no one can tell them anything. And that’s the part the gives me a headache.
So with my bloodied head, I still have a few things to say….
Sometimes the “free-er” you are, the less you see yourself as a participant in the “system,” the less choices you actually have. Those who don’t participate in the system, more often find themselves at its mercy; not a good place to be.
If you stand on principle (and by that I mean good, sound, right principle) your differences count for something. Having spend a lifetime, attempting to live out the things I stand for (“attempting” being a very intentional word) I can say that they have given value to my existence and while the cost has been steep at times, it’s been worth it
“I can do what I want” is not standing on principle. It is selfish, worthless, and dangerous.
The biggest price tag is stuck with super glue to the large label that says, “unteachable, always right, refuses to listen.” That costs. On the warning label is clearly listed, “dangerous to relationships, can result in loss of love and respect.”
There is no universal young adult law that says one must reject the values, faith, lifestyle of his/her family to be a true individual. Conformity is bad if that to which you conform is bad. To conform to that which is good is, well, wise.
Now, I will go bandage my head, take some Tylenol, and try to put something over the dent in the wall.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
All the Kinds of Moms I Am
I wrote the following several years ago - when more of you lived at home. But I want to share it with you...
ALL THE KINDS OF MOTHERS, I AM
I’m not sure when it happened. But at some point the line that separates “your kids” and “my kids” was almost completely erased and Maria and Ryan, Seth and Sarah, just became OUR kids. It was about the same time that they stopped referring to us as “your Mom” or “your Dad” and we became “the parents.”
“Where are the parents?” “What did the parents say?” “Where are the parents taking us for dinner?”
We liked that title. All of them have other parents in other places, but as a combined force in our household, we were now THE parents.
Which brings me to the other thing I have been thinking about, trying to explain. Last Mother’s Day, Pastor began reciting a list of all the kinds of Mothers there are.
“Some of you,” he began, “are mothers because you gave birth.”
“That’s me,” I said as I nudged Steve.
“Some of you are foster mothers.”
“Been there, done that,” I whispered.
“Some of you are adoptive mothers,” he continued.
“That’s me, too.”
“Some are stepmothers.”
This time Steve nudged me as I nodded yes.”
“Some of you are spiritual mothers to those you have discipled in the faith.”
“Guess that’s me, too.”
Now as he continued I conceded that I am not yet a Mother-in-law nor a Grandmother, but still it seems that I have come to the title of “Mom” in all the ways it is possible to do that.
And each of my five children hold a place that is unique in my heart, yet at the same time equal.
There is nothing like whispering to you husband, “We’re having a baby” and seeing that look come over his face that in some ways never disappears again. Having a much-longed-for and awaited baby growing inside you is so astonishing, so utterly amazing. Neither Ryan’s nor Jeremy’s births were the result of long and arduous labor. Jeremy burst into the world in the same fashion he would later jump into every activity in his short life and Ryan, just came in his own good time and way. I remember every detail of their births and every joy of holding my two sons for the first time. I loved them before I saw them or held them. Before we were first introduced, they filled my heart and still do.
Becoming Maria’s Mom was different, but no less magical. I stood at the door as the social worker walked up my sidewalk with the three year old beauty. She wore a faded purple dress and shoes several sizes too big and in one hand she held a can of Coke while tucked under her other arm was a baby doll. At that moment I only knew that she would be with us for while and that probably she would not stay forever. I didn’t know that we would fall in love.
But one Wednesday evening as I walked into church, she turned around from her perch in the front pew and when she saw me, her brown eyes sparkling, she said the one word that hooked me forever, “Mama!”
Later she would say to the nasty boy who teased her about being adopted, “Listen, when you were born your parents were stuck with you. My Mom and Dad chose me!” But in truth, she chose us, too.
When she was still little and loved best to be “Wonder Woman,” she would say, “Mama! When I turn into Wonder Woman I’m going to get my udder-one Mom out of the cage” (her birth mother, we assumed, was in jail somewhere). And then she would always add, “And then I’ll come home.”
Becoming Maria’s mom was magical and mystical and equally amazing to loving that newborn that God made inside me.
With Seth and Sarah, it was different still. Maybe the best way to describe it is like an arranged marriage. We all came together as kind of a package deal. And while the individual packages looked really attractive, we were all aware of the huge amount of baggage tied to each one. How do six strangers become a family? That’s hard to answer. Over time, commitment turned to love, obligation faded into genuine affection and the initial awkwardness of strangers turned into the ease of true familiarity. At some point we were each overheard saying, “my Mom and Dad, my sister, my brother, my children” without that preceding disclaimer “step.”
I love Seth and Sarah with all my heart. They are the children of my heart, too. The fact that they love another Mom, too, is simply beside the point. To think that loving a step-child (or for that matter step-parent) demands that in turn they have to choose who they will love best (or instead) is in itself the polar opposite of what love is. In a recent sermon our Pastor said, “Following Jesus mean we give up the right to choose who we will love.” In a step family, loving each other means we give up the right to think of ourselves as the only one they should love.
We are an affectionate family. Maria is quick to give a lingering hug and quicker still to end every conversation with “I love you, Mom.” Ryan is playfully overly affectionate, not just with me, but with both his sisters. In fact he “loves them” until they scream. Sarah, snuggles up to me on the couch and lays her head on my shoulder. And often, as I feel a gentle hand rubbing my shoulder, I hear Seth whisper, “I love you.”
They are dear and special to me, all five of my children. And there is nothing they can do to undo that. Ever.
ALL THE KINDS OF MOTHERS, I AM
I’m not sure when it happened. But at some point the line that separates “your kids” and “my kids” was almost completely erased and Maria and Ryan, Seth and Sarah, just became OUR kids. It was about the same time that they stopped referring to us as “your Mom” or “your Dad” and we became “the parents.”
“Where are the parents?” “What did the parents say?” “Where are the parents taking us for dinner?”
We liked that title. All of them have other parents in other places, but as a combined force in our household, we were now THE parents.
Which brings me to the other thing I have been thinking about, trying to explain. Last Mother’s Day, Pastor began reciting a list of all the kinds of Mothers there are.
“Some of you,” he began, “are mothers because you gave birth.”
“That’s me,” I said as I nudged Steve.
“Some of you are foster mothers.”
“Been there, done that,” I whispered.
“Some of you are adoptive mothers,” he continued.
“That’s me, too.”
“Some are stepmothers.”
This time Steve nudged me as I nodded yes.”
“Some of you are spiritual mothers to those you have discipled in the faith.”
“Guess that’s me, too.”
Now as he continued I conceded that I am not yet a Mother-in-law nor a Grandmother, but still it seems that I have come to the title of “Mom” in all the ways it is possible to do that.
And each of my five children hold a place that is unique in my heart, yet at the same time equal.
There is nothing like whispering to you husband, “We’re having a baby” and seeing that look come over his face that in some ways never disappears again. Having a much-longed-for and awaited baby growing inside you is so astonishing, so utterly amazing. Neither Ryan’s nor Jeremy’s births were the result of long and arduous labor. Jeremy burst into the world in the same fashion he would later jump into every activity in his short life and Ryan, just came in his own good time and way. I remember every detail of their births and every joy of holding my two sons for the first time. I loved them before I saw them or held them. Before we were first introduced, they filled my heart and still do.
Becoming Maria’s Mom was different, but no less magical. I stood at the door as the social worker walked up my sidewalk with the three year old beauty. She wore a faded purple dress and shoes several sizes too big and in one hand she held a can of Coke while tucked under her other arm was a baby doll. At that moment I only knew that she would be with us for while and that probably she would not stay forever. I didn’t know that we would fall in love.
But one Wednesday evening as I walked into church, she turned around from her perch in the front pew and when she saw me, her brown eyes sparkling, she said the one word that hooked me forever, “Mama!”
Later she would say to the nasty boy who teased her about being adopted, “Listen, when you were born your parents were stuck with you. My Mom and Dad chose me!” But in truth, she chose us, too.
When she was still little and loved best to be “Wonder Woman,” she would say, “Mama! When I turn into Wonder Woman I’m going to get my udder-one Mom out of the cage” (her birth mother, we assumed, was in jail somewhere). And then she would always add, “And then I’ll come home.”
Becoming Maria’s mom was magical and mystical and equally amazing to loving that newborn that God made inside me.
With Seth and Sarah, it was different still. Maybe the best way to describe it is like an arranged marriage. We all came together as kind of a package deal. And while the individual packages looked really attractive, we were all aware of the huge amount of baggage tied to each one. How do six strangers become a family? That’s hard to answer. Over time, commitment turned to love, obligation faded into genuine affection and the initial awkwardness of strangers turned into the ease of true familiarity. At some point we were each overheard saying, “my Mom and Dad, my sister, my brother, my children” without that preceding disclaimer “step.”
I love Seth and Sarah with all my heart. They are the children of my heart, too. The fact that they love another Mom, too, is simply beside the point. To think that loving a step-child (or for that matter step-parent) demands that in turn they have to choose who they will love best (or instead) is in itself the polar opposite of what love is. In a recent sermon our Pastor said, “Following Jesus mean we give up the right to choose who we will love.” In a step family, loving each other means we give up the right to think of ourselves as the only one they should love.
We are an affectionate family. Maria is quick to give a lingering hug and quicker still to end every conversation with “I love you, Mom.” Ryan is playfully overly affectionate, not just with me, but with both his sisters. In fact he “loves them” until they scream. Sarah, snuggles up to me on the couch and lays her head on my shoulder. And often, as I feel a gentle hand rubbing my shoulder, I hear Seth whisper, “I love you.”
They are dear and special to me, all five of my children. And there is nothing they can do to undo that. Ever.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The One Thing
There are many things that I hope for you, but only one that really matters.
I hope you find work to do that gives you joy and enables you to make the world a better place.
I hope that your marriages are happy and that your partners love you unconditionally. I hope that you find in your spouse the comfort that makes life sweet.
I want you to know the sweetness of a marriage full of teamwork and free of competition.
I hope that you children are healthy and happy and that raising them is a joy. I hope that you provide a home for them that is safe and secure.
I hope that you have enough money to meet your needs and that you have some to help others.
I pray you will have friends that add great riches to your life and that the give and take between you will make those friendships important and enriching.
I wish for you friends that tell you the truth and stand by you even when you ignore them. I pray that you will choose your friends for their wisdom and intelligence and that your common ground will be genuine care for one another.
I pray that you will always consider one another dear friends and that you will find great joy in your relationships with one another as siblings.
All of these things, I wish, hope and pray for you. But really there is only one thing that I desperately want for each of you and for your spouses and your children.
I want you to know Jesus.
I love each of you more than I can ever express to you, but it is Jesus that is the real love of my life. His friendship, companionship, truthfulness, faithfulness, and wisdom are the most important things in my life….I can’t imagine my life without Him. Knowing Jesus is the best part of my life.
I want you to know Jesus, that’s all.
I hope you find work to do that gives you joy and enables you to make the world a better place.
I hope that your marriages are happy and that your partners love you unconditionally. I hope that you find in your spouse the comfort that makes life sweet.
I want you to know the sweetness of a marriage full of teamwork and free of competition.
I hope that you children are healthy and happy and that raising them is a joy. I hope that you provide a home for them that is safe and secure.
I hope that you have enough money to meet your needs and that you have some to help others.
I pray you will have friends that add great riches to your life and that the give and take between you will make those friendships important and enriching.
I wish for you friends that tell you the truth and stand by you even when you ignore them. I pray that you will choose your friends for their wisdom and intelligence and that your common ground will be genuine care for one another.
I pray that you will always consider one another dear friends and that you will find great joy in your relationships with one another as siblings.
All of these things, I wish, hope and pray for you. But really there is only one thing that I desperately want for each of you and for your spouses and your children.
I want you to know Jesus.
I love each of you more than I can ever express to you, but it is Jesus that is the real love of my life. His friendship, companionship, truthfulness, faithfulness, and wisdom are the most important things in my life….I can’t imagine my life without Him. Knowing Jesus is the best part of my life.
I want you to know Jesus, that’s all.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
God is NOT like....
During this time of fasting, my focus has really been to pray for each of you. I always do, you know. But this is been a special, focused, intense time of connecting with God for you. And this sentence has been ringing through my head for days, like an important message that I have been instructed to deliver to you.
God is not like your dad.
Let me explain what I mean by that.
God is not indifferent; God’s love is ever and always, eternally present, He is “a very present help in time of need."
God is not forgetful of you, he is not “out of sight, out of mind,” but instead he says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, Yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands.”
God is not absent, but has promised,” I will never leave you nor forsake you and For even if the mountains walk away and the hills fall to pieces, My love won’t walk away from you.”
God is not like your dad.
God is not too busy to see you, not too involved elsewhere to be present in your life. You are always in his mind. Read this: “How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand.”
God is not self-centered and self-interested in regards to you. His love is not cautious, but completely and totally extravagant. He doesn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us
God is not spiteful; He never says, “I’m done with you.” Never. God is “both tender and kind, not easily angered, immense in love, and He never, never quits.”
God is not like your dad.
God is not indifferent and disinterested. He is not so busy with other things and other people that he is unaware of you. God, high above, sees far below; no matter the distance, he knows everything about us.
God is not hard to reach, not difficult to connect with. He promises that when we call, he is already listening. When we seek Him, he is easy to find.
God does not need affirmation from you; He is already good and perfect and loving and holy and totally gracious. He just loves you without reservation.
God is not like your dad.
God’s love for you does not depend on anything you do or do not do. His love toward you is a loyal love, a chasing love, a “everlasting love.” He says, “I have called you by name, You are mine.” Rejection doesn’t faze Him. He is faithful, no matter what.
God is not like your dad.
Let me explain what I mean by that.
God is not indifferent; God’s love is ever and always, eternally present, He is “a very present help in time of need."
God is not forgetful of you, he is not “out of sight, out of mind,” but instead he says, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, Yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands.”
God is not absent, but has promised,” I will never leave you nor forsake you and For even if the mountains walk away and the hills fall to pieces, My love won’t walk away from you.”
God is not like your dad.
God is not too busy to see you, not too involved elsewhere to be present in your life. You are always in his mind. Read this: “How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God! How great is the sum of them! If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand.”
God is not self-centered and self-interested in regards to you. His love is not cautious, but completely and totally extravagant. He doesn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us
God is not spiteful; He never says, “I’m done with you.” Never. God is “both tender and kind, not easily angered, immense in love, and He never, never quits.”
God is not like your dad.
God is not indifferent and disinterested. He is not so busy with other things and other people that he is unaware of you. God, high above, sees far below; no matter the distance, he knows everything about us.
God is not hard to reach, not difficult to connect with. He promises that when we call, he is already listening. When we seek Him, he is easy to find.
God does not need affirmation from you; He is already good and perfect and loving and holy and totally gracious. He just loves you without reservation.
God is not like your dad.
God’s love for you does not depend on anything you do or do not do. His love toward you is a loyal love, a chasing love, a “everlasting love.” He says, “I have called you by name, You are mine.” Rejection doesn’t faze Him. He is faithful, no matter what.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Words
I love words. Because I am a reader and a writer, I am intrigued by the "turn of a phrase." I love the proverb that says, "Well spoken words bring satisfaction."
Having just spent 9 days with 9 people staying at my house and 4 to 10 more hanging out for the holiday, I have heard a lot of words. The people in my family are, for the most part, quite verbose ("Using or containing a great and usually an excessive number of words") and so the words have flown.
We love to tease one another and one of the things I love about my family is that we do not take offense (for the most part) but enjoy in the intimacy that is contained in that kind of kidding around. It truly is a sign of affection and we all enjoy a good slam and can take them as well as we give them and be duly impressed by the skill (?) involved.
At the same time, I have always tried to be careful with my words; I believe in choosing them rather than flinging them. And so I will choose some words now, to encourage your choice of words.
Having just spent 9 days with 9 people staying at my house and 4 to 10 more hanging out for the holiday, I have heard a lot of words. The people in my family are, for the most part, quite verbose ("Using or containing a great and usually an excessive number of words") and so the words have flown.
We love to tease one another and one of the things I love about my family is that we do not take offense (for the most part) but enjoy in the intimacy that is contained in that kind of kidding around. It truly is a sign of affection and we all enjoy a good slam and can take them as well as we give them and be duly impressed by the skill (?) involved.
At the same time, I have always tried to be careful with my words; I believe in choosing them rather than flinging them. And so I will choose some words now, to encourage your choice of words.
Let your words be:
Gracious, not annoying or aggresive.
Pleasant, not offensive or repugnant.
Kind, not mean for the sake of being mean.
Courteous, not rude, not irritating.
Merciful, not punishing or judgmental.
Compassionate and kind, not mean-spirited.
Wise, not giving out information that should be private.
Polite, not shocking and harsh.
Tactful, never crude or purposely shocking.
I end with another proverb: Careful words make for a careful life; careless talk may ruin everything.
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