but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express

deep calls to deep
and my soul finds no resting place but him
he is my God
the yearning of my soul is touched and stilled
and each rare moment i felt his presence
i shall remember and forever cherish

deep calls to deep
and at his feast i am a welcome guest
he gives me food
the hunger of my soul is laid to rest
and each rare moment i felt his presence
i shall remember and forever cherish

deep calls to deep
for he created me to be his own
he understands the joy and pain of life, he to his own
and each rare moment i felt his presence
i shall remember and forever cherish

- deep calls to deep : steve bell

i had the privilege of going to the steve bell/symphony concert last night with my family, and it was such a blessing yet again.

they ended the night with the song deep calls to deep, which has become one of my favorite songs as of late.
i've been working on putting together a cd of lament songs, and also going through what that looks like... being in a season of lament doesn't mean that you are going to be crying every minute of the day, or that you can never laugh or enjoy yourself. it just means that your heart in one way or another is broken. to me it doesn't mean that God isn't part of your life, or that you don't know that God is God... but it means that God is God because he is there, weeping with you. laughing with you in the moments when we are able to laugh, crying when we are crying, and resting with us when we are resting.

during lament it can be hard to "sing the happy christiany songs". it's not that i don't believe all those things are true about God, because I do, but sometimes it's hard to sing "yes Jesus, you are so great and happy and everything is fluffy and happy and i want to clap and dance"... which may be a little bit of an overstatement... but i fully believe that "worship" doesn't just include songs that are all happy but that worship can be "how long will it take? how long will i have to wait?" worship is acknowledging that no matter the circumstance, God is God. that does not change, but the ways that we acknowledge our current needs and ways that God is there for us does change. i'm wondering if this makes sense in anyone else's head, or just mine. but that is where my heart is.

deep calls to deep.

i love when steve bell sings this song with the symphony, i could listen to this song over and over, and often i do. i love how it starts... the bass player plays his stand up bass with a bow, and the instrument groans. it just groans, there is no other way to say it.

this part reminds me of the verse in scripture that says that when we run out of words to say, or don't know how to pray because of the state of our souls, the spirit groans for us. groans on our behalf, and God hears.

deep calls to deep, and my soul finds no resting place but him...

we groan from the deepest parts of our souls, deep calls to deep... the deepest parts of us call to the deepest parts of our God.

and he hears. and we find rest. and peace.

michael and i were talking about this on the way home from the concert, about peace. we talked about how peace isn't just being happy, or an absence of conflict. peace is wholeness, being at rest. i think that Christ gives us peace, gives us HIS peace and so with him we can rest. it doesn't mean being 'happy' but it means resting in Christ. allowing His peace to find our soul and ooze into the rest of our being.

the music in the song changes shortly after the groaning, and if i close my eyes when i listen i can picture the instruments dancing. i picture being at rest and whole with Christ and out of that i can dance, i can be fed, and i can still be me. God is still God, and my situation is still just as crappy as ever, but I have his peace, and with my God I can be... just be.

he is my God, the joy and pain of life, he to his own

here is the video of the song, there are captions to read while watching, but i recommend closing your eyes and allowing the song to surround you.



ps. if you're interested in a copy of a lament cd, just let me know. i'm making them this week.

if grace is an ocean we're all sinking

I woke up this morning and looked out my window, as I often do, and I saw one of my favorite parts of winter. Horfrost. I think it is the most beautiful part of winter. God sends the snow and finds every single branch and ledge and twig and coats it in frost.

I am always amazed by the sight of it, and I think it makes winter worthwhile.

It makes me want to bundle up in my winter attire, and go for a long walk. Breathing in the winter air, watching my breath as I breathe in and out, and thanking God for his creativity and patience. I like to think that he hand paints the frost on each twig.

There is a worship song that has been playing nonstop in my head, which is ok with me. It is by Jesus Culture. I love watching Jesus Culture on youtube, it is very powerful stuff. I love when people sing with passion, and you can almost feel the music move through them. I love the imagery in the song, and how the whole song dwells on God's love for us.

The song talks about God's love being like a hurricane, and we are the trees. We bend and we are covered and we are overwhelmed by God's love. It is overpowering and... it is everything.

"How He Loves" - Jesus Culture

He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
and I realize just how beautiful You are
and how great your affections are for me.

Oh, how He loves us so
Oh, how He loves us
How He loves us so.

Yeah, He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves us
Woah, how He loves.

So we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes
If grace is an ocean we're all sinking.

So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss
and my heart turns violently inside of my chest
I don't have time to maintain these regrets when I think about the way

That he loves us,
how He loves...

click!

i decided just to post some pictures that i have from the wedding week and the honeymoon... there are a lot more pictures, but felt like sharing a few.
this is me and phoebe doing chocolate facemasks... looked like chocolate, smelled like chocolate, felt like melted chocolate, but was NOT chocolate (didn't taste it though)
leah and i at the beginning of my bachelorette! i have great sisters.

the first honeymoon picture. we stayed at the four points hotel (sheraton) at the airport, in the honeymoon suite. it was the nicest hotel room, with the softest robes and a giant fruit platter!when we went ATVing in Mexico our tour guide showed us a sink hole. while we were there someone found a baby turtle, the guide was in the middle of talking so i didn't walk over to see it, but really wanted to see it. the tour guide looked around with us but the little turtle was no where to be found! so later on down the path the guide found a turtle, stopped everyone and walked down the line to me so i could take a picture! isn't he cute??

this is in belize. we had lunch at a place called the "wet lizard" and i had a drink called a "blue moon"... it was 40 degrees that day, so i really appreciated its icyness.
i love these cut out things... whenever michael sees them he knows i'm going to make him pose for at least a few pictures. this one was in belize.
this is one of my favorite pictures from the trip. it was during a thunder and lightning storm... we were walking on the top deck of the ship and the lightning was so bright. so we stood there and i held my camera on continuous mode hoping that i could catch a picture of the lightening and then... voila. it is just such an amazing display of the power of lightning, God is so creative.
we had just arrived on the boat and found our room, 8-412, with a balcony! we were pretty happy with it.
this was after our ATV excursion. none of the pictures do justice to how dirty we were. we would drive through the mud and the puddles as fast as we could. i would scream the whole time but just keep on going. we were soaked.
time to wash off at the beach!!

another popsicle perhaps?

today i feel like all i can do is lay on the couch or else i will feel sicker...
so today i was thinking, if i was feeling better what would i want to do? or have etc. you know, a list of favorite things (much like what my mom blogged about the other day), so that maybe i can live vicariously through my list...

favorite things:

peppermint tea
falling asleep with a heat pad on my feet
snuggling michael
playing with puppies (like molly!)
kernels popcorn
christmas decorations (although not the blow up ones that people have in their yards, i think those are just tacky)
hanging out with my family
sudoku
the smell and the sound of michael making supper
baking cookies
playing piano and singing
chicken stew
watching (and quoting) friends
clean laundry
hitting the snooze button one more time... and then one more time... and then...
tim tam slam
blistex lip chap
getting pedicures
shepherds pie
Caribbean beaches
having a healthy and healed throat!! :)

i think i just dozed off in the middle of my list, so now i think it's time to add napping to my list, and try it out.

tear soup

my mom gave michael and i, and josh and leah copies of a book called "Tear Soup". it was written i suppose in a way for those who are grieving to relate with, and for those who are not, to see a little insight into those that are.

I'm going to write it out on here, it will be long. If you prefer to read it and look at the pictures then just remind me when you are over.



Tear Soup by: Pat Schwiebert and Chuck Deklyen
A RECIPE FOR HEALING AFTER LOSS

There once was an old and somewhat wise woman whom everyone called Grandy.
She just suffered a big loss in her life. Pops, her husband, suffered the same loss, but in his own way. This is the story of how Grandy faced her loss by setting out to make tear soup.

For many years the custom of making tear soup had been forgotten. As peoples' lives became more rushed they found it much easier to pull "soup in a can" from the shelf and heat it on the stove.

But several years ago Grandy got a taste of a well-seasoned tear soup. One of her friends made it from scratch after her child died.

As soon as Grandy tasted the rich flavor of that carefully made soup, she promised herself never again to assume that quicker was better.

Because of her great loss Grandy knew that this time her recipe for tear soup would call for a big pot.

With a big pot she would have plenty of room for all the memories, all the misgiving, all the feelings and all the tears she needed to stew in the pot over time.

She put on her apron because she knew it would get messy.

It seems that grief is never clean. People feel misunderstood, feelings get hurt and wrong assumptions are made all over the place.

To make matters worse, grief always takes longer to cook than anyone wants it to.

And then... Grandy started to cry.

At first she sobbed.

Sometimes she wept quietly.

And sometimes when she was in a safe place where no one could hear her... she even wailed.

Grandy knew she had to make much of this part of the soup alone.

She learned from past experiences that most people don't like being around tears. Her friends would worry if they knew just how many tears Grandy's recipe called for this time.

So the old and somewhat wise woman reflected on her own special recipe as she looked down into the large overflowing pot of memories. It was a task she would repeat many times during the next few months.

Grandy winced when she took a sip of the broth.

All she could taste was salt from her teardrops. It tasted bitter, but she knew this was where she had to start.

And for now, it was the only thing on her menu.

There were things that Grandy never wanted to forget.

These included the good times and the bad times, the silly and the sad times.

With her arms full of memories Grandy made many trips to the kitchen.

One at a time, she slowly stirred all her precious and not so precious memories into the pot.

But eventually she ran out of things to add.

Grandy's arms ached and she felt stone cold and empty.

There were no words that could describe the pain she was feeling.

What's more, when she looked out the window it surprised her to see how the rest of the world was going on as usual while her world had stopped.

Her grandson, Chester, who just wanted his Grandy to be happy again, hoped his chocolate drops would make her feel better.

Mrs. Bloomklotz, Ms. Chadwick and Mr. Long, all brave yet fearful neighbors, dropped by to see how Grandy was doing.

They filled the air with words, but non of their words took the smell of tear soup away.

Grandy was gracious because she knew how helpless her friends felt. They wanted to fix her, but they couldn't. All Grandy really needed from them at that moment was a knowing look and a warm hug.

There were also days when Grandy hungered for a thoughtful ear.

Sometimes she would ask total strangers, "Care to join me in a bowl of tear soup?"
"No thanks", most would reply, "I don't have time for tear soup today."

Even some of Grandy's friends hurried past her house and pretended now to notice the aroma of tear soup coming through her open door.

Grandy found that most people can tolerate only a cup of someone else's tear soup. The giant bowl, where Grandy could repeatedly share her sadness in great detail, was left for a few willing friends.

"I'm here," Midge cried. "I got here as fast as I could and I'll be here whenever you need me. What a tragedy. I'm so sorry you're having to make such a big pot of soup."

Oh what a relief. Grandy knew she didn't have to be careful what she said around Midge.

Midge wouldn't try to talk her out of anything she was feeling. And Grandy could even laugh and not worry that Midge would assume Grandy was over her grief.

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner," said Midge.

"No problem," replied Grandy. "I've had plenty of help. But most of these friends will be history pretty soon. They'll be over my tragedy long before I am. But I know you'll still be around."

"I don't know what to say, but I'll be glad to listen," Midge said tenderly. "C'mon, tell me all about it while we make some bread to go along with your soup."

These two friends, who had shared a thousand laughs and just as many tears, pounded at the bread dough together.

"I feel like I'm unraveling." Grandy cried. "I'm mad. I'm confused. I can't make any decisions. Nobody can make me feel good. I'm a mess. I just didn't realize it would be this hard."

"Why don't we go for a walk while we wait for the bread to rise," Midge suggested.

"I know exercise is supposed to help me but I feel like I have concrete blocks strapped to my legs. We'd better not go too far or you'll have to carry me home, " moaned Grandy.

Mrs. Cries-a-lot called and reminded Grandy that she had been making tear soup for years and would be more than glad to come right over and show her how to make it the correct way.

"Thanks but no," said Grandy. "This pot has my name on it."

Grandy knew better than to let Mrs. Cries-a-lot or anyone else tell her what she should do to get through this terrible loss.

Next her recipe called for some comfort food.

For Grandy this meant mashed potatoes or ice cream. Comfort food always makes you feel better -- at least for a little while. It gets past that big lump in your throat when other foods can't.

"I think it needs some chocolate too." After all, it was her soup.

Grandy kept attending worship even though she was mad at God.

Sometimes she yelled at God and asked why this happened. And sometimes she demanded to know where God was when she was feeling so all alone.

Still, Grandy trusted God, but she didn't understand God.

She sensed that people believed that if she really had faith she would be spared deep sorrow, anger and loneliness. Grandy kept reminding herself to be grateful for ALL the emotions that God had given her.

On some afternoons people would ask questions like,
"Is it soup yet?" Or,
"How long is it going to take? You have been at this for over a month now. It's time to get out of the kitchen."

Grandy fumed at the caller's advice.

Grandy looked forward to getting the mail each day. She dreaded the day when no more sympathy cards would come.

When she was alone and needed to think she found it helpful to keep notes on her soup making.

Thank goodness Grandy and Pops have been married a long time. They already knew each other's tear soup would be different.

Secretly Grandy wished Pops would put more flavoring in his soup, but he doesn't want to. And he's perfectly content to dine alone and sip his own soup.

Making tear soup is hard work.

Sometimes it was all she could think about. Even the things Grandy used to love to do, she didn't have the energy for, nor did she care about anymore.

Some of Grandy's friends over the years had not tended to their tear soup. Their soup boiled over and the pot scorched.

What a mess. It took them a long time to clean up their pots and to start over. The smell of burnt soup still lingers in some of their homes.

Grandy knew there were times when she needed to take a break from her soup making. Even thought it was hard to do, she forced herself to get away.

Grandy heard that a neighbor was having to take her turn in the kitchen. Some people thought that the neighbor was eating too much tear soup.

So Grandy, being an old and somewhat wise woman, called and invited her to a special soup gathering where it's not bad manners to cry in your soup or have second helpings.

Soon the thoughtful cooks sat at Grandy's table and discussed the process of making tear soup. There are some parts that require help from friends and some parts you just have to do alone. They shared stories about soup making they wouldn't dare tell anyone else for fear of being judged as a bad cook.

They all laughed knowingly when Grandy remarked, how on days when she was daydreaming while driving, she was glad that car seemed to know where she wanted to go.

These people had become Grandy's "new best friends."

One day as Grandy and Chester were going for a drive, Chester asked, "Mom says you've been making tear soup. What does she mean?"

"Well, tear soup is a way for you to sort through all the different types of feelings and memories you have when you lose someone or something special. Remember when your baby brother died right before he was born and your mom sat for days holding his blanket and weeping? She was making tear soup."

"You made tear soup yourself by acting out your own disappointment when you shouted at Jason, wishing his brother would die, too."

"Remember when Billy's dog died and he didn't want to play with you? Not feeling like having fun is one of the ingredients of tear soup, also."

"And remember when Aunt Meg got divorced and they had to move? There was a lot of tear soup simmering in that house."

"Some days when you're making tear soup it's even hard to breathe. Some days you feel like running away. You just hope a better day comes along soon. And then comes one of the hardest parts of making tear soup,"

"It's when you decide it may be okay to eat something instead of soup all the time."

The next morning as Grandy was cleaning up, Chester asked her if she was done making tear soup.

"Well, I don't think you actually ever finish. The hard work of making this batch of soup is almost done though. I'll put the rest in the freezer and will pull it out from time to time to have a little taste."

"So what else have you learned by making tear soup, Grandy?"

"I've learned that grief, like a pot of soup, changes the longer it simmers and the more things you put into it. I've learned that sometimes people say unkind things, but they really don't mean to hurt you."

"And most importantly, I've learned that there is something down deep within all of us ready to help us survive the things we think we can't survive."

"Grandy, you know so much. What will I do after you die?"

"Don't worry, I will leave you my recipe for tear soup."

i'm tonsil free!!

so... i'm tonsil free

mom took me this morning to health sciences hospital. i was surprisingly un nervous. i was a little nervous in the morning when i was saying goodbye to michael, there is something about surgery i guess.

well i got there and checked in. didn't have too much of a wait, so that was good. then i was wheeled downstairs to wait. the nurses were super nice and there was one nurse that had the best irish or was it scottish... (not sure, i'm on 2 tylenol 3s right now) accent! it was fabulous.

shortly thereafter a man came and sat beside me to wait. i wasn't really in the most chatty mood... you know with a 48 year old man that i didn't know. so he says "are you nervous?" me: "no not really" him: "well what are you having?" (to which i'm thinking... whoa, a little privacy please), but i smile and politely respond "a tonsillectomy" (now that is a word that makes you sound smart.) i didn't really want to know what he was there for, but i said "well are you nervous?" and he let me know that he was actually quite nervous. then we got into a discussion about how he was having his kidney removed because he had kidney cancer, but he was afraid that they may find more than they bargained for.

i realized at this point that maybe this wasn't about me, but rather about keeping him company and maybe keeping him a little more sane. so we chatted for awhile. the only thing that i wasn't the most fond of was when he said "ya, i was telling my wife this morning that i get the nervous squirts... going to have to go to the bathroom again soon..." maybe too much info.

anyway... then i WALKED into the operating room. i thought that was funny. i joked around with the anesthesiologist for a little while, then he put an oxygen mask on me and told me to breathe from my head all the way into my toes. he was really impressed with my first breath. told me to do one more and then... i woke up! how lovely.

since then i've been feeling a little out of it... and i've been pretty pale apparently. but my mom has been very good at keeping me stocked up with pudding, applesauce, juice, water... you name it. my other mom brought me some flowers and some christmas decorations, which i'm pumped about.

now we (me, michael, mom and dad) are watching our wedding video... well actually just the 10 minute "tour" done by uncle todd... if you haven't seen it, you need to.

ok, that is all. i'm on t-3s so i'm pretty zonked. the pain seems to be all in my left side, especially in my ear and under my jaw. ice seems to help. and no bleeding so far. but it is feeling very hard to swallow. anyway, i need to keep dozing, but just thought i'd throw a random update into cyberspace incase anyone cares to read.

feel free to visit. just know that i'll be kinda out of it.
xox

i am auntie ashley because of a perfect baby named Jay.

yesterday i sat in mountain bean drinking my most favorite drink as of late, peppermint tea...
i love how you can put your face over the cup and breathe in and the peppermint fills your mouth, throat, sinuses. i love taking a sip and feeling it run all the way through my body. i really like peppermint tea.

i sat there waiting for a very good friend of mine (adrienne) to meet with me. she called and said she would be about ten minutes, so i took out my journal and just starting writing about the first thing that came to my mind.

july 24th, 2008. i can remember every detail of that day so vividly. i can remember when my mom called me in the middle of the night to say that josh and leah went to the hospital. i can remember which house i was cleaning when mom texted me and said that leah had been pushing for quite awhile and that my little nephew would be there soon.
i can remember exactly where i was when mom phoned crying the way only a brokenhearted granny can to tell me that i would never get to see my nephew breathe, or hear him cry.
i remember who i saw first, in what order, and i can remember the first thing i did when i saw josh and leah, and i can still remember the looks on their faces.

but yesterday my thoughts were brought back specifically to a moment in leah's hospital room, she had to go to the washroom so i had the privilege of holding Jay while she was gone. it was just me and my little nephew. i held him, and rocked him. i kissed every little wrinkle on his face. my tears fell on his blanket. i unwrapped him and held his little toes, looking at each one and how perfect they were. i whispered over and over again to him how much he was loved. how much i loved him. how he will always be my first nephew, the first person in this world to give me the name auntie.

i remember sitting there and praying to God that he would never let me forget this. that he would never let me forget exactly how Jay looked. all his little wrinkles, his perfect little nose, his big feet that would've grown him so much taller. that i wouldn't forget how he smelt or how his skin felt. or how it felt to hold him and to kiss him. that i wouldn't forget how heavy he was, or how he fit perfectly in my arms. that i wouldn't forget how much i could love, did love, and do love little Jay.

and yesterday i was able to tell this to adrienne. to tell her what my nephew looked like and felt like. how soft his skin was and how perfectly curly his hair was. and i cried because i haven't forgotten. i know now i can never forget, but that i only love him more.

if you hear a voice inside you saying "you aren't a painter" then paint. and that voice will be silenced.

Sweet Jesus Christ my sanity
Sweet Jesus Christ my clarity
Bread of heaven, broken for me
Cup of salvation held up to drink
Jesus, Mystery

Christ has died and
Christ is risen,
Christ will come again.

Sweet Jesus Christ my sanity
Sweet Jesus Christ my clarity
Bread of heaven broken for me
Cup of salvation held up to drink
Jesus, Mystery

Christ has died and
Christ is risen,
Christ will come again

Celebrate his death and rising
Lift your eyes, proclaim his coming.
Celebrate his death and rising
Lift you eyes, lift your eyes

Christ has died and
Christ is risen,
Christ will come again

Sweet Jesus Christ my sanity.

Mystery
Charlie Hall

This is a song that we are planning on singing at the worship night next weekend (although i won't be singing... you know, with the tonsil removal and all.) I love the words, I love how the song sounds, i love how the words feel in my mouth... does that make sense?

Jesus Christ my sanity.

The last year has been so full of ups and downs, hills and valleys. Some of the happiest moments of my life, and the very worst. Leah made a good point today, when someone asked her how she was she talked about how all we know and can cling to is Jesus. Jesus. (Now that is a word that feels good in my mouth) Jesus died, for us, and he is coming back. That is the truth. That is what keeps us sane through all the worst days. I think that is why I feel like crying through every worship song and every time i'm at church, because I am overwhelmed by Jesus, the truth.

Jesus Christ my sanity.

on another note, i've been thinking more and more about the importance of having a group of friends, and of having a "care group" now that we are married. I've thought about having a small group of girls and michael having a group of guys... but I think that what would be best for us is to have a caregroup together. a group that we can hang out with, talk about thoughts, issues, concerns, excitements. people to laugh with us and to cry with us, to pray with us and to come over for dinners and potlucks. problem is... we don't know how to "find" these people. we have at least four names that we are considering asking. this is something very important and i think it's something we need to be prayerfully considering.

it's not that we don't have good friends, because we do, we have great friends. but it is good to have a group.

i want my home to be a place that hosts people, that is welcoming and cozy.

right now we are sitting in my husbands "man haven" :)
he set up a tv, the xbox 360, and the stereo with the futon. the drums are behind us. it is a pretty sweet man haven. we are watching 30 rock, a funny show that was brought to us by josh and leah. right now tracey is attacking conan... that would make more sense if you'd ever seen it.

if you haven't... you should be coming over to our man haven (or our cozy upstairs, which is maybe now an "ashley haven"? hehe) to watch an episode. let us know, we'll put the coffee on.

ps. i love my husband.