A few weeks ago, a friend of mine shared this poem with her husband.  He didn't get it.  That usually wouldn't be noteworthy.  However, since I think that this poem can help men understand women a little bit, I'm going to try to break it down into everyday English.

         "She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth- it's she who drives the loudmouths from the hall and clears for a different celebration where the one guest is You. In the softness of evening, it's You she receives.  You are the partner of her loneliness, the unspeaking center of her monologues.  With each disclosure You encompass more and she stretches beyond what limits her to hold You." 
                                                                                  --Rainer Maria Rilke

You probably dreaded trying to read the books made for this sort of thing.  Their titles are "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus," and its Christian counterpart, "Men are like waffles, Women are like spaghetti."  In them, the fundamental statement made about women is that everything in their lives are connected in her mind.  It says that men don't do this---that they have compartments for everything.  Simplistic I know, but basically true.

The threads are events.  Any events.  One is the amount of time between my alarm and when I actually got up.  One is the fact that I didn't eat breakfast even though I know I need to do that (because of breastfeeding).  One is that fact I missed devotions, got to work late, wasn't happy with my assignment, was late getting out of work even though I wasn't really busy, took forever to change out of my scrubs, didn't feel like answering the door to give children candy (will probably end up eating all that candy myself), didn't drive the baby to his grandmother's house in a pumpkin costume like I meant to, ended up ordering a pizza instead of making dinner...  The list goes on, but gets a little bit too personal.

A man doesn't see these things as connected.  A woman has no doubt in her mind that they are. Everything means something.  It all ends up meaning the same thing. 

But what if I actually told that to my husband when he asked me how my day was?  The answer he expects to hear is some adjective (good, alright, lousy) and some explanation as to why I chose that adjective.  What if I told my truth to my boss, my child, my mother-in-law, the neighborhood kids?  The truth is that it will take more time that I don't have to explain what they won't understand. 

So I go to God instead.  "There is a conflict between who I want to be and who I really am.  Unconsciously, I'm procrastinating, and I don't know why.  What are you trying to teach me that I'm avoiding?"

Summary:  Everything that happens to a woman is connected.  They are all pointing to something.  She can either assume that God is teaching her something, or she can blame her problems on someone else.  Either way, she is going to eventually figure out what her heart is saying, and it will come out of her mouth in one direction or another.

Truthfully, I'm not big on poetry either, but I do understand what this woman is saying. Thought I'd share.

I wanted to write on this a while ago.  The time got away from me. 

We have a lot of artsy people in our church.   The use of this image as a backdrop for worship offended some of them enough that they sent letters to our worship leader stating just that.  That got me thinking about a few things.

There is talk in our circles about "redeeming" parts of our culture for spiritual use.  For the most part, I think this is Biblical and right.  I think Paul and Solomon have done that in their writings.  I think John alludes to culture in the begininning of his Gospel.  I'm all for redeeming culture so long as it doesn't mean taking it out of context. 

There was enough controversy about this art piece 20 years ago, when it first was displayed.  I'm under the impression that it was meant to be derogatory.  And if in fact that is its context, I think it's the perfect backdrop for worship.  I wouldn't have it any other way.  I have yet to see a better picture, hear a better poem, or contrive a better analysis of what our sin is, and how humiliating it was for the Christ to bear it.  Piss Christ is exactly what we have done.

Perhaps being offended is the correct response.  So often we are bothered by the sin of others, yet our own sin seems to be excused in our own eyes.  I know that when I heard about the letters Scott received, I had one of those moments where I felt God saying to me, "You are (were?) that man!" And as soon as I realized it, worship was the only thing I could do.  But alas, I had my own son in my arms, and couldn't join in the conversation.  So I'm writing it here.  

How deep the Father's love for us,
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the chosen One,
Bring many sons to glory

Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders
Ashamed I hear my mocking voice,
Call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished
His dying breath has brought me life
I know that it is finished

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom 

Say what you want...

He looks like his Mommy...

I should have known that getting married wouldn't cure the feeling of being alone.  I don't know why, but I've always had it.  It's the feeling that nobody really understand me.  (And getting married doesn't help, because everyone knows that men and women don't understand each other.) I feel like I must be different in some irreparable way, because my values and the logical connections in my mind don't match that of seemingly anyone else.  I've often heard my friends talk about things that "everyone" does, or thinks, or struggles with, and I end up thinking, "Really?  Does everyone else do or think or struggle with that?"  Not that I've acheived some kind of higher state, it's just that whatever "everyone" is doing---good or bad--- is usually something that never even crossed my mind.  And people wonder why I'm silent when it comes to conversations about pop culture.  It tends to have the feeling of small talk, and I guess I'm not very good at that. 

Every once in a while, I make a connection with someone.  It's usually a male.  My father once told me that there was no such thing as a man that just wanted to be my friend.  I've hated him everyday for being right about that.  I have to fight the temptation to get too close, because I know that if I do, my mind might turn in the direction that his may already be heading.  Not that it would take much.  I'm a born follower.  I really enjoy doing what's expected of me.  But as it turns out, the people with whom I tend to make the best connections are the people who struggle with the same sins as I do.  Sin is the kind of misery that loves company. 

So everyone needs an exit strategy.  Here's mine:  Don't exit.  I commit in my heart to stay with them the extra mile.  I commit to pray for them and to love them.  As a married woman, the extra step is that I need to make sure that I'm doing that with my husband as well.  I'm fairly convinced that lust comes out of insecurity and a need for intimacy.  So I try to pursue intimacy with anyone who will stick around for it. 

So if I do get lonely, it's my own fault.  It's probably because I'm lazy.