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.
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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.
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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*

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* 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.