i can't read this at work...

...because I laugh too hard and start crying...and that's hard to explain. (Though...maybe I could blame it on the hormones...)

http://crappypictures.typepad.com/crappy-pictures/

Leap Day

17.5 weeks in. We don't know what we're having. I don't like being called "little mama."
This is an incredibly terrifying / exciting season.

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.

{ photos }

{homer}
The view from outside the truck.

{homer}
The view from inside the truck.

{homer}
I was there too.

{homer}
Happy 70th birthday, Bob Dylan.

{hope}
Next door.

{hope}
Reading at the river bank.
I should have taken a picture of our pie.
We ate A LOT of pie.

All in all, a successful venture. Random hipster/yuppie/Peterson moments abounded. And we definitely tandem-biked our way through all four days. (Maybe it cancelled out the pie?)

Bonus: my husband looks darling in a bow-tie.

(Submission/tandem bicycle post forthcoming.)

je retour

Back. And hopeful. (!) And recovering from our weekend of sleeping in and pie-eating.

Pictures (including another porcupine sighting) to come (once I have time to make them look fun and vintagey...).

Also coming down the line: speculations on submission in marriage, via tandem bicycle.

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...



shout to the north and the south...

Please pardon the camera-phone graininess.

"My" backyard.
For two or three weeks, I get two awesome teenagers, AND this.

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.

blub blub burble

So, I'm coming around on photography.

Maybe not coming around per se, as much as solidifying my appreciation of said art.

The Hubs isn't a big fan of pictures (though, I've seen some that he's taken, and they're pretty fabulous). As a snapshot, they can't hold reality - even in the moment, they can't capture everything...sights, smells, sounds, vibes, etc. But oh, I think they're so lovely. And that they can capture essence, in as much as essence can be captured. The colors and texture and light and depth... I'm sooo on board.

So I entered a give-away, and I'm crossing my fingers. (And starting a camera fund. Wee!)

In a somewhat related, but broader note: I'm coming back around to a lot of my own opinions.

Having gone through the shock-and-awe of marrying a robust and strongly opinionated man (who deeply loves me and wants me to be my own person, and who enjoys me when I am most definitely Lisa), a lot of me ended up submerged (mostly due to my own insecurities and desire to be loved / avoid conflict). So here I come (conflict included), bubbling back up to the surface, and it's soooo nice up here. Among other things, I'm better able to respect and interact with my husband{'s perspective}, and to contribute to (and relish in) our life together. Love it.

******

And now, I'm ending a post that began with photography with nary a picture in sight. However, I will tell you that I accidently got up an extra hour early on Sunday, in hopes that you'll feel sorry for / laugh at me, and thus will make up for the lack of pictures. Poor Hubs. We were up and out and in the (very cold) truck by 6:30 a.m. (which said it was 5:30, with my cellular telephone saying 7:30, while the clocks inside said 6:30... sigh).

things that start with the letter p.

(parenting)

I'm "mother" to two teenage girls for the next twelve days.*  In addition to not being biologically capable of mothering them, I also lack the wisdom, experience, and a-well-balanced-dinner's-ready-in-twenty-minutes skill set. (I can swing 40 minutes if I plan ahead. ... On a good day. ... And I still might forget one of the food groups.)
So, seeing as they're 15 and 17, it's not quite mothering, not quite babysitting... live-in-friending? (Maybe I can be the cool aunt, and make them "I love my aunt" onesies, er... t-shirts.)

Between the rides to the bus stop and the late-night snacks, I am so thankful that children start out small -- that you can know them through the diaper blowouts and runny noses and babbles, and continue to know them as they grow into potty-trained, kleenex-competent, articulate people. (Theoretically...I've never had children...but that's what it looks like from the cool aunt's perspective.)

To be in one place, one season, and know that another season is coming, that larger and possibly better things are coming, that maybe they even need to come, but to still relish in the current season, to sew and glean knowing that tomorrow is new, will be new, has to be new. To live in a state of falleness and imperfection, with requisite maturation and intentionality, moving towards knowing as we are fully known. And doing it all in fear and trembling, in real-life time. Yikes!

(process - see above)

Sign me up.

(pregnancy)

Not pregnant. Not sure if I ever will be pregnant. But, just in case, I have a fabulous buffet of prenatal vitamins (and other supplements) three times a day. One of them gives me fish-oil burps.

(presents)

This cool aunt just made a cape for her nephew that she's really excited about. It's got his initials (GD) followed by a rather robust exclamation point, and after making said cape, she realized it's potential for profanity. Oops.

Still really excited.

(pterodactyl)

**

* The young women that I am fortunate enough to live-in-friend -- they're amazing, and I would be so-flipping-excited if any wee Petersons ever turned out like them. Also, we want to take a family photo in front of the fire place. Now I just need to find matching denim shirts...

**

No explanation necessary.

salut.

Confession:

I read a lot of amazing blogs, written / created / given by even more amazing women, and part of me wants to be a part of that community -- as more than just spectator -- and part of me wants to be one of those women, partly to gratify the selfish desire to have everyone think I'm "amazing," but hopefully, also to share legitimately amazing things (stemming from an ultimately Amazing God).

So, the word "amazing" got a lot of play up there. ... Please bear with me.

Introduction:

The description under "mrs.lmnop" stems from planning a wedding with my then-fiance (now fabulous Hubs). We sat in various coffee shops (or parking lots -- wherever we could snipe us some wi-fi) and looked at pages, pictures, stories, plans, lists... bombarded with what a wedding should be, who we should be in our wedding. And we didn't want that. We wanted a ceremony that reflected who we are as individuals, as a couple, and the Jesus that makes it all possible. So, we came up with three words: reverence, genuineness, and simplicity. If it didn't fit those three things, we didn't want it in our wedding -- and looking beyond the wedding, we don't want it in our life (lives). (The wedding was lovely, by the way.)

It's been a year and a half since then, and in the midst of misunderstandings (*cough* soul-squashing fights *cough*), jobs, home-ownership, sinful nature, and life in general, those three words have gotten a little bit lost (buried, ignored, or apathetically stared at).

So... le'chayim! * I'm not sure what this blog will look like...possibly the articulate spill-overs from a life well lived: a reverent, genuine, and simple life. Or just day-to-day mediocre mush. We'll see. (Or rather, I'll see...there's no "we's" at the moment.)

* Not Jewish -- that's my channeling of "Fiddler on the Roof."

Reverent, genuine, and simple... or maybe just ecstatic.