Turning Tables

 
In this season of bright sadness
a voice in the dark says:

"Go. There is nothing left

for you here," all is madness

We go. In silence we slide

out into the night,

round moon slicing the sky

above, its sadness bright

The table is turned,

the wine swallowed burned

its way down inside

now part of us, blood of Christ

Christ, bloody and torn

turns universe-tables,

Son of Man crowned with thorns

endures epithets, labels of scorn

Dark sun shades that day

we remember as this weekend

crawls on toward the ember

of new fire, night turning grey

Ashes of sadness form a nest

for Heaven's Fire to rest

before He leaps upward

in life—excelling mythic-bird

There is nothing left

here in the tomb—death bereft

of corpse and terrible sting,

Life holds in hand the final victory

The Fullest Extent of Love 

exited the grave on His own two feet,

turning the sadness of sorrow sweet. . .

Purim

 

Tonight was the full moon Shabbat occurring closest to Purim, the holiday celebrated by the Jewish community in honour of God saving the Jews from destruction back before Jesus was born. Purim involves wine, dressing up in costumes, eating hamentashen (Haman's hat/pockets/ears—depending on your tradition/etymology)—jam-filled, triangle cookies, giving alms to the poor, and reading the book of Esther (cheering for Mordecai and jeering against Haman when their names were read).

Did I mention that people dress up? Not exactly in formal wear, but in our case, in order to dress up like Esther or Vashti, formals worked perfectly! These are my small group gals! (We're missing two...and I don't think we took photos of the fellows, oops.)

This work of art is Haman. That's Challah Haman, to you! He was made by Brienne and we thought he was fabulous! I ate his beard with butter. And his eyes are hard-boiled eggs to pluck out. How fearfully gruesome! 

 

There was much wine to go with the challah... Making it a true Shabbat!

 

All in all, a fun and fabulous evening was had... Especially by the boys, who all dressed up as superheroes and helped us with the booing and the hooraying whilst eating cookies. :) Who could possibly have more fun with that?

 

Ash Wednesday IV

Ash and oil

mix in paint

across my forehead

A cross my

forehead boldly bears

stares at me

from the mirror

Dust of death

to wipe away

like life—brief

Unlike the bread,

the strong wine,

both now part

of my body

much like I'm

part of His

Life from death

Life swallowing up

sin's spectre grey

painting a cross

for Life Himself

to die upon. . .

Yet He holds

so much life

death is undone

like ash become

palm once again

___

Photo by Ahna Ziegler on Unsplash

Breck!

Skiing in Breck for the first time in a couple of years—so fun (though I think I'll be bruised for days...)!

 

   It was soooo warm out for the first half of the day! Definitely got a little sunburned...

Tosha-the-Brave and Jody-the-Tenacious

The four Adventurers!

   Linnet, Tosh, and me in Breck... Thanks to David for taking our photo. :)

    All photos provided by Tosha-the Brave

The Cry of the Heart

And if I could reach the Northern Lights

Maybe then I'd understand it all

Sometimes I try so hard to fight

When all I want to do is fall

Into the night

Into your arms, 

Surrender

 

"Surrender" | Songwriters: Daniel Tashian | Ian Fitchuk | Jasmine Lucilla Elisabeth Van Den Bogaerde [Birdy]

Proof That We have Loved

"How can we say that God has cheated us, 

when this crush of grief is proof that we have loved?”

—Steve Bell We Believe in Love

Part of me wants to just leave it at this lyric and not say anything. Isn't that enough? 

But the other part of me, the part that cries until I'm sick, wants to work it out in all the words.

____

Dear Aaron,

Today is your birthday. 

Why do we say someone "would have been" a certain age if they have passed from this life into the next? Perhaps people quit counting in the 'normal' way because years don't matter or add up or work at all in the Eternal Kingdom? Still, you were born in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-eight, and you will go on forever in His Kingdom, so you are thirty-four today from where I stand. 

Today I'm tried... Tired from being up late and early while visiting Kasey the last few days and tired from travel. But I'm 'other' tired, too. Tired of the world being broken. Tired of loving and losing. Tired of missing so many people because of distance, physical and metaphysical, emotional and spiritual. 

But I'm not tired of missing you, because missing you means I remember you. Missing you is a habit. It is a daily thing. I've been missing you since before you died; but I've only felt really free to give that feeling full expression since you died. The longing and the grief mingle painfully, even still. The love that I can't seem to send across the veil or through the thin spaces to you feels restless in my heart. It wants out. It wants to go to you. But it's like a bird with a broken wing, thudding back to earth after pitiful attempts to fly. 

Today is your birthday. . . 

. . . But I don't want to be sad. I am thankful you were born. You have taught me so many things, in life and after death. In a way, you connected me with Kasey—with Oxford—with poetry—with music—with myself. Not wholly, but in ways no one else could or did. Thank you! Thank you for being born. For living life. For being my friend. For sending me on a grand adventure. For helping me see I was capable. For giving me the chance to meet my best friend. For being faithful while you could be. For knowing wisdom came from outside of us when we were both confused about life. For introducing me to your sweet family (though I really wish you would have done that differently...). For ringing bells—not in steeples, but inside of me. For being you... Aaron E Hennig. 

Today is your birthday, and the crush of grief is still there, the proof of love. 

God has not cheated you nor me, He gave us gifts: friendship, camaraderie, hope, love. And through you, He has given me so many more of those gifts in other people. Some other days my heart will spill open in grief for some of them, too. I pray those days are so far away I can't imagine how far they are. But I know I can't outrun grief, because I can't outrun love. And I don't want to. 

Today is your birthday, my friend, and you are basking in the Father's love. The love that you can't outrun, even by death. So, I'm sending my love for you to Him...along with a bear hug.

Love always,

Johanna

Year in Rearview

Contrary to a large percentage of the population, I loved 2021.

It was a surprisingly good year in so many aspects. I got to see all of my best friends over the year (I got to see Max a whopping three times!) and introduce most of them to my small group and work friends, who are like family to me.

This last year was one where I grew decidedly closer to my small group, especially the Hendersons. They often invite me over for dinner or movie nights, they are open-hearted and honest with me, their kids ask me to sit with them at church, and I spent three holidays with them in 2021. I feel very blessed to be part of their family and our small group community! 

In one of those "Only God could have done this" things, I not only got to spend a month in Arizona, I got paid for it by work! Spending the month of March with Doc and Alice was SUCH a gift... I loved making meals for them, going for walks with Alice, going out for walks by myself in the evenings (people in Arizona aren't crazy about having stupid lights everywhere!), seeing interesting places and critters, and meeting nice neighbours. And, of course, it was very fun to get to see my Max-friend for an evening when he was near Phoenix for work. My day in Sedona was one of my favourite memories of the year.

After being invisible for pretty much most of my life, in 2021 men suddenly asked me out. Perhaps not getting out much in 2020 made them bolder (or desperate?), so they asked. Granted, most of them weren't believers, so I said "no" as kindly as I could—but I appreciated that they asked! It made me feel seen. 

One of those fellows did get quite a few "yes" responses from me, however. :) Which is maybe part of what made for such a good year. Having never dated someone in my town, it was an unexpected gift to have someone to be with—and to not have to rely on texts and phone calls to carry the relationship. We could just go out for dinner or walk around town or play hockey in the park together. Embodied relationships are so much deeper, even if it's a lot harder to say difficult things out loud rather than in writing. Both long-distance and in-person relationships have their drawbacks and their perks, but I have found that I infinitely prefer in-person relationships... Even if breaking up is way harder.

Of course, 2021 wasn't all rosy. Dear family friends passed away. My best friend was/is going through a divorce. I had several fights with my stubborn will. I had to both say and hear hard things about myself...things I'm still trying to face. And I had to break up with Nick. My heart and will are still terribly opposed to that last item, but there was no way around it. Maybe one day I will be thankful that we broke up, but it sure isn't today. Today it still sucks. I still don't know how to act around him when I see him. And I still cry myself to sleep.

 

I'll close with the things that have been the sights and soundtrack of the year...

Albums/Artists:

Sigrid

Arvo Pärt

Novo Amor

Audrey Assad

Hymn of Heaven (album) - Phil Wickham 

Songs:

It's Always Been You - Phil Wickham

This song hit me with a force the very first time I heard it...and it still does. 

Take My Hand - Skerryvore

I know exactly where I was when I heard this song for the first time. Nick played it for me and it instantly felt like "our song." 

Shiloh - Audrey Assad

When pain comes to show you
What you'd rather not know
What will your heart do?
What will you let go?

Show Me - Audrey Assad

Bind up these broken bones
Mercy bend and breathe me back to life
But not before You show me how to die

Wrecked - Imagine Dragons

I heard this song when editing a piece for Reflect. It made me think of Aaron... Aaron, whom I still miss. Whom I still write letters to, even if I can't send them to him. 

Shows:

The Chosen
Let the record show that I do not like Bible shows...but I love The Chosen. Any show that makes me cry during the Eucharist at church has gotten something right. I have quite the soft spot for Matthew.

All Creatures Great and Small
This show has been an aesthetic delight with its Yorkshire views (and how adorable is Nicholas Ralph?!)—though I always make the mistake of sitting down to watch it whilst eating, and inevitably the vet is birthing an animal or cutting into a beastie...

Books:

Last Bookshop in London
I got on a WWI and WWII kick this last year-and-a-half-ish. This book was a good one! I yelled "I hate this book!" at least twice whilst listening to it and crying my eyes out. Trust me, that means it was good. There was a lot of "people banding together to get through hard things" stuff going on in this story.

Last Christmas in Paris
If this list were in order, this book would be number one. The audiobook is first rate with narrators for each character. The story is told in letters during WWI. The first time I read the book it made me think of Aaron and all the years of letters we exchanged.

Tolkien and the Great War
This one I listened to (I don't know if I could have made it through just reading on my own) and I found it both interesting to know about Tolkien's life and how WWI influenced so much of LOTR (esp The Scouring of the Shire), and heartbreaking to see how so many bright, influential poets, writers, professors, musicians, and the like were mown down in WWI.

Reforesting Faith
Such an interesting book about trees in the Bible (and trees in general)!

I was on a tree kick early in the year (when am I not?) and also loved this podcast series about Trees from the Bible Project fellows. Seriously, go listen to episode one!

In. . .

In all of my inadequacy

I stand,

Eyes cast down,

chin quavering,

salt trails glistening

In all of my paucity

of soul I come,

Weak-willed,

straining to have what I want

and to do what You want

In all of my scarcity

of mind

that streaks my days

with fear and grasping,

I hide from the world

In all of my insufficiency

I kneel,

with downcast eyes

and open hands,

letting go my weak will

Lift up your heads

ye mighty gates!

Be opened,

ye ancient doors!

The King of Glory enters in!

In all of His sufficiency

He stands;

In all of His humility 

He comes,

Emmanuel, God enfleshed

In the fullness of time

He brings love,

filling empty hands

and hearts and minds—

including mine

In my empty

He enters, a seed in the

dark womb, burgeoning 

life, growing light—

the Eternal Dayspring

In the first light of day

He is the spark

divine, disgorging the rich,

feeding goodness to the

starving, my soul included

In Him my soul, too,

rejoices—

In my lonely places,

In the unbearable waiting,

He enters in. . .

An October World

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. . . Look at these maple branches. Don’t they give you a thrill—several thrills? I’m going to decorate my room with them.”

—Anne Shirley in Anne of Green Gables

Yes, Anne... They give me several thrills, friend. I have delighted in this maple tree outside of my office turning aflame with autumn glory in the last week or so. A stiff wind and some chilly rain are likely denuding it this evening, but I'm thankful to have caught both this morning's glory (above) and a late afternoon burst of gold over the weekend (below).

How right Robert Frost was when he said, "Nothing gold can stay."

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

— R. F.

October has been marked by ephemeral gold, amber, and crimson leaves. By a Harry Potter songlist played over and over, and by a full moon, huge and shrouded by misty clouds. By hikes in autumn air and walks under the stars. By blueberry wine and questions about verbing out one's name, one's self. By nights watching the Anne films with Tosha, Lynnette, and David. By eating far more pumpkin and apple things than I should have. And by the reading of Emily of New Moon.

 

But in my quieter moments—though those have been too few—October has marked 14 years since Summit Semester and our fabulous Farvest Hall. Fourteen years since Amadeus in Denver, the Cheesecake Factory, and a visit to The Tattered Cover. Fourteen years since I began forging a deeper bond with Aaron, Reese, Chels, and Stephen. Sometimes in the autumn the grief hits hard, but this year the weeks have been full of friends visiting, of small group nights, of evenings talking with Nick, of films or reading or trying to catch up correspondence. 

This autumn has been happy, which has surprised me again and again. For so long I didn't expect to ever again be fully glad that it doesn't seem possible. Of course, there are sad things, hard things, even ugly things. But they feel small right now. The shadow is a passing thing and light and high beauty are beyond its reach. 

Granted, the days used to seem longer, always with room to write letters or e-mails... And now they seem ever-too-short, but the people are there in the days—real, present. No more being long-distanced from everyone (though I'm still long-distanced from too many!), now I live in a place where I have graciously been gifted a good, thoughtful, loving community—at work, at church, and with various friends.  I want to share that community as I can and as I should. And I long to hold on to quiet space and room for pouring my heart out to the Lord...and for listening to Him. It is a balance, especially when my mind is so full from each day and each week. 

I hold all of these things—beauty, community, words, gladness, truth—loosely in my slightly curled hand. Fourteen years ago life was nearly perfect, too...and then came dark, dark days. And years later, deep, dark nights for my aching soul. Seasons ebb and flow, rise and fall. There are no guarantees that either the good times or the hard times will last forever. So, I am thankful for the love, beauty, and safety I have experienced this year. 

Not knowing what any future moments or days hold, I receive the now as gift, trying to learn not to grasp (and in so doing, strangle out the life of the beautiful things God has granted). As I have just journeyed through the wilderness, the precipice injury (and many other places on the way to the High Places with Much Afraid and her companions, Sorrow and Suffering), I find that I am still trying to learn the very first letter in the Alphabet of Love: Acceptance with joy. Still, many more years down the road from the first time I read the book. Why am I still at letter one? I don't know, but it's where I find myself. So, there I will continue to try to open-handedly accept with joy, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Nothing gold can stay...not yet, anyway. But one day, the New Kingdom will come down and marry earth. And then, perhaps, we will have an everlasting autumn (with sunflowers and daffodils, too) where gold can stay. It sounds like an October world to me, which is a deep delight to my soul!

Borrowed Magic!

It's out, it's out! I just received my real[ly beautiful] copy of Borrowed Magic by Ava Reese. Let's be real, you know you want one... You should probably sign up for Miss Reese's delightfully funny and quirky newsletter, too. She shared a ghost story that made me laugh in the most recent edition.

Also, just look at that delicious cover! All I need now is a mug of hot cider and an October afternoon all to myself...