thirty-four weeks

Comments I don't care for:

• You look like you're going to pop!
• Any day now!
• Can I touch you? (said while hands are on en route to my midsection...and really, just if it's a guy. I'm okay with the ladies.)

Comments that make me happy:

• Pregnancy suits you. Everytime I see you, it makes me happy!
• You look good pregnant (etc.).
• My! You've retained your figure!

We get a baby soon! (What does it mean to "have" a baby? To come into possession of an infant?)

Still ruminating on women...women "in ministry," "in leadership," and in the home. That may or may not correlate with infant-possessing.

I am thankful for my marriage, for my husband, and want to continue pressing into One who's Larger, Good(er), Stronger.

Our spare bedroom is a disaster and I think it contributes to the "everythingishorribleican'tdothisthebabybetterstayinthere" moments.

And I'm learning how to drive a manual transmission. My apologies to the residents of Soldonta.

a back seat

This isn't going to be fully articulated, because, well, if it was...it would an even longer time coming (and a longer post!).

Discussions (and struggles) with "women in ministry" (particularly, leadership in ministry) have been an undercurrent of the last few years of my life, knowing and loving several women with leadership roles (official and non) and myself being a woman serving in various capacities. And though I'm definitely not settled, I am more at peace, trying to trust God's heart is this.

I am slightly more comfortable with roles in marriage (which gets tricky when I try to extrapolate that onto women in ministry...). I think there's a very real freedom that comes with submission (for the sake of the Lord) in the context of marriage. That being said, I think "submission" can look different in every woman, every couple, so submission with the Hubs and I is different than in the marriages we see around us.

For our second anniversary, we tooled around on our tandem bicycle, and it was, quite frankly, absolutely fabulous. And really challenging. And, as previously mentioned, a pretty ideal analogy.

Challenges:
I can't see where we're going (or, at least, what's immediately in front of us)
I can't control when or how fast we pedal, and we have different pedaling preferences. (Who pedals while you're going downhill?!!)
I have to trust my husband with my physical well-being.

Fabulousness:
I don't need to hold on to the handlebars.
I can look around and enjoy the view (of my husband's back / all of the lovely Alaskan things)
I don't have to do all the work of getting from Point A to Point B by myself (and actually, I can take "breaks"...shhh!)
We go farther than I would ever dream of going on my own, and when we get there, I'm not exhausted.

On the bicycle, my husband is the undisbuted leader ("head," if you will). He sets the pace, steers the course, and really, does the bulk of the work (I'm an athletic weenie). Could I do those things from my seat in the back? Nope. Do I think I have a "back seat" in my marriage? Most definitely not. Can I derail the whole bicycle if I really want to? Yes. Can I do the same thing to my marriage? You bet.

For better or worse, we're both crucial elements, on the bike, and in our home. Just as when we're on the bike, I need to communicate things from my perspective (like when I lose my footing on the peddles and have to stick my feet straight out... or when he wants to dive into conflict resolution too quickly, and I still need space). I need to carry my own weight (even though he peddles harder / picks me up when I don't). I {need to} fully participate.

As a wife -- as a spouse -- I have the privilege (and challenge) of loving and serving my Husband. And as a wife, I am called by my Savior to submit to husband. Honestly, in our marriage, it's a very subdued sort of "submission." My husband - out of who he is (and who he is growing into) - leads. And I love who he is. I love his character, his integrity, his passion for Truth, for Jesus. For me, in this season, submission is a willingness to be encouraged and challenged by him in words and actions as we both pursue Christ.

Disclaimer: "Submission" as concept and in practice is still really vague for us. The Hubs and I are both okay with that. We value "being a team" with equal, albeit different, contributions. And, following his lead when we're in conflict is really difficult for me, and a definite area for growth. It's like when we've been on the bike, trying to go up a big hill, and I'm tired and whiney and don't care that he has to do most of the work. Not so good.

hope

 

* I didn't take this picture. *
I found it online somewhere, and then used some
super-rad photoshop actions to turn it into a
Polaroid and make it old looking.

 So, we're celebrating our anniversary early this year (so as to not conflict with the BNL concert in Anchorage...) and we're going two places. The first few nights, we'll back the truck up on the beach in Homer, and wake up to mountains at our toes. The next few nights, it may or may not look like the picture above...* We're going to Hope, AK - home to five restaurants and 318 people.

There's plenty of cheesy things that could be said about celebrating one's wedding anniversary in a town called Hope, and really, I think I'll take some of those things.

But first:
     We did not choose to celebrate there because of the town's name and / or any implication/inference it might have on our relationship. (Which wouldn't be a bad idea ... but that's not how we roll right now. So, the choice being made, I'll retrospectively extrapolate...)

Caveat out of the way...


This past year really has been marked by hope. (Unlike the first year...which was sort of anti-hope.) Both in our marriage, and in our individual lives and relationships with Christ. More hope than we've known in a long, long time, and in ways that seem so much more solid, more soul-anchoring, than in previous seasons. And it may or may not have come out of the fire of our first year of marriage. The absolute dependence on the person of Christ and the gift of God's grace to get up every morning and love each other, which felt soooo incredibly necessary a year ago, is still just as necessary (but oh, so, sooo much sweeter when we like each other). Our relationship is so much more free, so much more joy-filled, with the onus of its viability off our sinner-selves. To be able to receive one another as gifts, as blessings. (Which, we've wanted to do that since Day One, but haven't always been very good at.)

I'm positive that Year Three will look different than any of the lovely versions of it in my head, but I am hopeful. I am looking forward to a continuation of reverance, of stepping out in faith, of celebrating the Life and Person of Christ in our day-to-day lives.



One of the five restaurants.
Do I wish my life was fun and vintage?
Yes. Yes I do.



* I'm going to bring my ancient point-and-shoot, with the goal of turning them into cool Polaroids. I'm pretty sure we have zero pictures from Year Number Two, and the only post-wedding photos from Year One include the Hubs' never-to-be-seen-again comical mustache.

Here's to Year Three! * clink *



alive

It - vivification - is coming in little patches and spurts.

The Hubs and I saw a porcupine today! It waddled across the trail ahead of us, and climbed up a tree! (I didn't know they climbed trees!)

Some days, some moments, are so completely lovely. Mmmm. 

I will rejoice, and be glad in it.

And seriously, I've done a poor job of rejoicing as of late. I feel bogged down and overwhelmed, or at best, treading water. (And I'm not great at treading water....it was always a stretch to pass that part of swimming lessons. What?! You want me to do this for how long? WHAT?!! Yeah. Not fun.) I become (revert to being) so small and selfish.

But today! Today is a day that the Lord has made.

I will choose that, I will hold to that hope and revel in His truth; I will rejoice, and be glad in it.

_________

(Also, and nothing to do with loveliness (or rejoicing...), the Lakers might not make it out of the second round... and that's bonkers. Bonkers!)

one line

I have been steee-ressed lately. I don't like it. I'm at my ugly human finest, running on my own (lack-of)gusto and misplaced confidence.

Exhibit A:

Trying to communicate over wall after wall of angry/hurt-woman barriers, and as lovingly as he could, the Hubs told me that my response (to another negative pregnancy test) wasn't peaceful, or restful, or grateful. (It was the "grateful" bit that stung, and definitely NOT what I wanted to hear. So I just sobbed more and got snot all over one corner of the sheets (conveniently, the corner closest to my nose...).) And it's true. It's not. I'm not. I am not peaceful, restful, or grateful.

-----------------------------------

We practiced "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty" yesterday morning, and I tried sooo hard to mean it, to believe it true in my life:

     Praise to the Lord, Who o'er all things so wonderfully reigneth
     Shelters thee under His wings -- Yea, so gladly sustaineth
     Hast thou not seen how thy desires e'er have been
     Granted in what He ordaineth?

And... "oh, let all that is in me adore Him." ?! Really? Can't just parts of me adore You? Just parts of me be grateful? Particularly the parts NOT involved in reproduction? This "all of me" bit isn't working out so hot right now.

But I do believe it...that I am sheltered, sustained, LOVED. That He is not cruel or arbitrary, or withholding things willy-nilly. That there's beauty and freedom and redemption in Christ that's infinitely more important than my unoccupied uterus.

Okay then.
...

Grateful it is.

en'bee'ay

Why does Dwyane Wade have a mic pack on? Anyone?

Just so you know, the Miami Heat won Game 1 in the playoff series against the 76ers.

Also, just so you know, the fact that I:
     1) know who the Miami Heat are
     2) can name their starting line-up and
     3) care, is a marked departure from Lisa three years ago.

In some ways, almost two years into marriage, I don't feel any different (other than having to remember I'm in the last half of the alphabet when it comes time to bring a dish to a church potluck*). I look at my husband, and I see how much he's grown - in real, substantial, beautiful (umm, handsome?) ways. And then I look at me, and I see that I like the NBA. ...

I feel closer to real life than I have in a long time. Life outside of myself (and outside of the National Basketball Association...), life bigger, fuller, more vivacious. But there's still so much fear, so much hesitation. Sigh.

Perfect love drives out all fear.



* They call the potlucks "carry-in" dinners. I always hear "carrion" dinner, and frankly, that's gross.

foramen*

"This is the most provacative game of words since the invention of the modern alphabet."
Not as exciting as it sounds, friends.

Faux parenting = over. I'm going through withdrawals. It's strange to not know what the girls are up to (I've got a glimpse into my own mother's patience when I first left for college and she "only" called twice a week and then left really long messages with my roommate because I was never there...)


I miss you, girls! (And I finished the strawberry rhubarb pie you made.)


In other news, I feel like I need to raise up my hand and join the fatigue of blogland. I've been better about "self-care" this past year or so, but lately, I've felt everything accelerating, and I was peering ahead, trying to see the crash-and-burn point. I don't see many flames, so perhaps this isn't it, but I'm so ready to be done, to take a break, to shut down. And that makes me sad. I want vibrancy and abundance and genuineness and reverence (and some simplicity)...but apparently, more of me wants a nap.


Sigh.


(Also, I don't like the phrase "self-care." Another sigh.)


We played the oh-so-exciting game of Probe the other day -- a "daughter's" choice of a random anatomy word* that the rest of us didn't know provoked more than the game did, but oh well. I picked "vivify" for round one, and despite "daughter's" insistence that it isn't a word, it is, dear one...oh, how it is.

vivify

[edit]English

[edit]

Etymology

Latin vivus (alive), through late Latin vivificare and French vivifier

[edit]Verb

vivify (third-person singular simple present vivifies, present participle vivifying, simple past and past participle vivified)

1. To bring to life
2. To impart vitality

I need some vivification, ideally by the one and only Vivifier.

Here's hoping.

(Tomorrow's church service is about the Faithfulness of a Holy God... He will do what He says He will do.)

banana seat

On Sunday, I challenged the 9th/10th grade youth group girls to intentionally "put on" the armor of God at some point this week. Preferably in the morning. And then to think about it at some point in the day.

I've done the latter. (And then tried not to congratulate myself too much for having a conversation about it, seeing as I hadn't actually done what I challenged those girls to do, and, even if I had, it still wouldn't warrant self-pride.)

Why do I want to do the former? Why wake up and put on imaginary belts and tie up imaginary boots and grasp imaginary shields and buckle imaginary helmets (etc)? Because. Because I am small and insufficient. Because I want to be intentional. Because I want to surround myself with Truth (to be held in and "defined" by it), tromp around in Peace-boots, feel (and know) myself to be covered in Righteousness, put out flaming darts with a tangible Faith, rest my mind in Salvation through Christ, and wield the Word. Because I want to see the victory and glory of God over the desperate brokeness and deceit of the world (in and outside of me).

Okay, so not all of me wants that. But part of me DOES want it, and part of me WANTS to want it, and the last part is old-Lisa and needs to die anyway, or has died, but doesn't know it yet. Or something like that.

Note: His Victory and Glory is definitely NOT dependent on my imagining a bike helmet, nor does said bike helmet, etc, somehow make me sufficient.

I have a few more mornings to go before youth group. Anyone want to send me a 6:30 am text message to remind me to put on my gear?



Probably not what Paul was talking about. But I might want one for the Hubs...



shasta *

My home group is my favorite part of church. The willingness to do life together, to share a meal, to watch each other's kids (especially my teenagers...rascals!) (okay...not so much), to wrestle (physically and otherwise) on the living room floor, to ask hard questions and plumb hard answers. My soul soaks it up.

I was sitting on that very living room floor, my back against a leather couch that creaks at every awkward movement, when I found myself both convicted and incredibly encouraged.
______________

The back story: Over the past few months, I've been party to several conversations (of different levels of intensity) regarding women "in ministry." Every part of experiential, relational Lisa embraces the thought of women teaching, women leading, having both seen and known women in those roles. Intellectual Lisa isn't so sure. I don't know what to do with passages in the Bible that seem to contradict 1) each other 2) my experience. I end up really angsty, sometimes really angry / hurt, or enormously bewildered.
______________

So last night. We were having a conversation about intimacy with God, and how we get caught up in the legalism of trying to make that work - constructing systems of bible-reading and accountability partners and "quiet time" (which can all be good and beautiful things, and decidedly not legalistic), instead of resting in the grace and sovereignty and mind-blowing Largeness of I Am.

Then the Hubs mentioned something that clicked. "If God is for us, who can be against us?" So often I twist that ... I'm against me, and I perceive God as being against me too, resulting in the angst, the hurt, the bewilderment, in feeling alone and abandoned. But He's not against me. He's the ultimate Teammate. We can be on the same side, striving after the same things (not on my own strength, ability, or righteousness) (thankfully).

My husband and I pursue "Team Peterson," intentionally and foundationally being on the same side (particularly when there's something less-than foundational we disagree on). And I'm in the middle of a hefty disagreement(s) with God. But He's good, and He's for me, and we can be on the same side. If He brings me to conclusions / beliefs that I'm not comfortable with (or affirms conclusions I've already set my heart on), it's for my own good, and for His Glory and His Kingdom. So be it.

That's sort of scary...and sort of thrilling.

I'm so sorry for the ways I limit you. For the small size that I've made you in my life, my heart. For my refusal to see and accept your love for me in this.

*high five*

______________

* Whenever it was "my" turn to bring post-game snacks, I'd go with my parents to the grocery store and pick out as many cans of strawberry-kiwi shasta as I thought I could reasonably get away with. Delish.