"sending big waves into motion..."

"Like a small boat
on the ocean
Sending big waves
into motion
Like how a single word
can make a heart open..."

When Sam asked me to write a post using Rachel Platten's "Fight Song," as the keynote, I was intrigued. I'd never heard of Rachel -- or her song -- but once I did, this post gave birth to itself. I just got out of the way. Here what fell on the page:

I'd spent so many years trying to prove my worthiness. I'd chased a sense of belonging -- to family, church, and in the communities I've lived in. Enough.

I refuse to fight any longer for a personal sense of validation. And actually, I have discovered that I don't need to. I am enough. In her song, Rachel sings, "a single word can make a heart open…"

That is the line that simply took my breath away.  You see, once upon a time, not so long ago, I had a life-altering experience that supplied the "one word" I'd been waiting for. The word was "no."

I had been holding my breath, waiting for someone to to take note of my worth -- for far too many years. I'd done everything - shy of standing on my head - to get a thumbs up. Then one day, I got a clear, decisive thumbs down. And it was wonderful.

Sure, the first moment or two was filled with "what did I do wrong?" "Give me another chance -- please -- I'll try harder to win you over. I promise, I'll do better next time." 

 And there were many times in the following days - and weeks - when I thought it actually meant something about me that I didn't measure up. As if looking through any human lens could serve as an accurate assessment tool for measuring a person's merit. For weighing worth, validating value.

But I soon came to realize, that it never would. It never could. And it just didn't matter. Really. I knew I had given "it" my honest, genuine, authentic all, and it was still not enough -- for him, for her, for them.

That "no," was actually the key to my freedom. It released me.  It wasn't a "no" to my dreams and desires.  It was only a "no" to their participation in it.  I was free.  I was free to be empowered from within.   

In the wake of their "no," I could begin to look in another direction. And I chose to look towards my relationship with God for any - and all - meaningful information about my peace, my purpose, my place in the world. That relationship was intact and unwavering. My trust in His love for me was sound. 

Like a small heavy-keeled boat, I was secure in my spiritual seaworthiness. I was deeply grounded in an unsinkable certainty that I knew Him, felt His presence, and was filled with His grace.

What I also learned through this experience was that a clear "no," is sometimes the most wonderful version of "yes." To know -- without a shadow of a doubt -- that permission from others is just not going to be yours, actually frees you to stare unflinchingly into abyss of your own heart's fathomless worth. For this is the province where God is Sovereign -- enriching your affections for what is really yours.

Nothing that is truly ours, requires someone else's approval or permission. When we feel inspired and impelled by that deeper demand from within -- we are driven to find ways to live those desires moment-by-moment. We stop asking for permission.

I think that, for me, parenting has been one of the most powerful examples of this. For such a long time I thought that I needed to have a child to be a mother. But mothering is a verb. I could mother colleagues, nieces, neighbors, countries, causes. I didn't need to wait for the validation of a baby. I didn't need someone to choose me as the adoptive parent of their infant or child. I could mother -- nurture, encourage, support, cherish -- without hesitation, without apology.

Whatever it is yours to do, you know it in your heart. You don't have to think it into being.  You don't need to poll the opinions of others to find consensus.  Your purpose springs from that sacred place in you that is so deeply aligned with divine Love that nothing can extinguish its primordial fire. 

Are you impelled to heal -- then heal. Are you kept awake by a desire to write, to keep bees, to partner, to coach? Then do it -- even if the "doing" begins with simply and importunately  praying for the integrity and success of that industry, institution, activity in the world.

If you love the thought of being in a marriage and you have not met Mr. Right -- so? Love marriage. Love the office of husband so much that you would never criticize, demean, or undermine that office in any way. No matter how it is being carried out by those around you. 

 Uphold the best view of that office in your conversations, interactions, and in support of your family members and friends. Nothing can make you think of that office in any way that violates your highest sense of its potential to bless -- not even someone else's behavior. You own your right to uphold your highest sense of husband, boss, mother, friend, world leader, global citizen. Take possession of it and defend it.

Don't wait for the validation of the "right" person, place, or thing, to live your relationship with whatever God is impelling in you. Don't wait for permission from an employer's "hiring" to live your desire to do, what it is that you love -- whether it is to exercise a skill, share a talent, or support an organization's mission. Their "no," may just be your "yes" in finding a clearer, brighter path towards the realization of a deeper sense of what it means to fulfill your divinely-designed purpose, to answering your highest calling.

Mary Baker Eddy says, on the first page of her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, that:


"Desire is prayer, and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires…"


These desires -- which she clearly identifies as prayers -- are actually:

"God's gracious means for accomplishing whatever has been successfully done for the Christianization and health of mankind."

I'm learning to trust this truth. To act upon it without permission from anyone -- but God. I am discovering that when the eyes of my heart are fixed on Him, I cannot be disappointed. I am empowered by His reign in my heart -- enriching my affections and governing them.  

You may not be a big ocean liner - filled with folks lining up to party with you.  But, you may find that you are like a small deep-keeled boat, happy to do whatever it is that small boats do.  Perhaps you will carry the Christ, or hold those who are casting their nets -- within.

Offered with Love,

Kate

"Nor thorns infest the ground..."

"Joy to the world, the Lord is come.
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing.

No more let sin and sorrow grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
Where'er he comes, his blessings flow,
And hope and joy abound...."

It was a pretty benign moment.  Some time ago, a friend and I were sitting on the bleachers watching our daughters during a sporting event, when someone came up to us and made it clear that although my friend was someone they looked forward to seeing, and speaking with...I was not. 

I understood.  It was sad, but I didn't think she was wrong, or that her feelings were unwarranted. She had the right to her own perceptions and conclusions.  I'd learned to shut-down all hope of warm affection in those moments.   The wounds were no longer as raw, the scars no longer tender.  In fact, I was sure that I'd actually lost most of the sensation in that area of my heart.  But I could see that the dear friend, who'd been sitting next to me, wasn't insensitive to the wounding.  She was "feeling it" for me.  It actually pained her, to witness dismissiveness among her friends.

Outside of the gym there were flowers blooming, trees were lush with rich green leaves, and people were playing tennis in shorts and tank tops.  But in that moment of seeing the hurt on my friends face, all I could think of was the Christmas carol "Joy to the World."

It was as if snow had begun to drift softly over the earth and everything became suddenly very hushed and quiet in that noisy gym.  

In my heart there was a babe in the manger, kings with gifts, shepherds singing, and the hope of peace.  Angels were singing, and this carol became a "call to action."  I could no longer afford the luxury of letting any relationship become disfunctionally polite, and steeped in passivity and reproach. 

Just because I'd become inured to the sharpness of the hurt, didn't mean that the deeper roots of thorny words, looks, and feelings weren't infesting the larger community garden we all grew in.  Sin and sorrow needed to be rooted out and blessings needed to flow...like the healing waters of Meribah...through the rich soil of our shared landscape.

The carol sings:

"Where'er He comes,
His blessings flow...
And hope and joy abound..."

My family, my children, their friends, my friends, our neighbors...deserved better from me that just passive tolerance.  They deserved a wife, mom, sister, friend, neighbor who made room in her heart...EVERY MOMENT...for the birth of the Christ child, in the face of everyone I encountered.  No human history, no mistakes, no mentally-recorded moments where "he said, then she said."  Only this moment of "receiving Him still" (still:  nevertheless, as in I am still here, I am still good, I am still your friend).  Only this moment of reception...receiving the gift of the Christ child  -  the babe of healing...in the waiting room of my heart.  A room that I must...and only I could....keep prepared for the unexpected arrival of the blessed guest. 

My heart could no longer be a busy inn, with more than enough guests.  So many guests wanting to hang out in the lobby, or stay up late in the pub, that I thought I could afford to miss having the unexpected visitor...the birth of the infant Christ...at my door.  I could not be so distracted that I missed the opportunity to stand watch in the obscurity of a manger and see a miracle.

So I set to work preparing a room that day.  Knowing that the next time this person came to my thought...or across my path...there would be a warm fire burning, fresh linens on the bed, dog-eared copies of the Bible and Science & Health on the shelf , a freshly baked loaf of bread, a pot of soup, and a cup of cold water on the table...and they would be received...still.  

And they were.  And I was. 

"He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of his righteousness
And wonders of his love,
and wonders of His love,
and wonders, wonders, of His love."

Your grateful inn-keeper with many rooms left to prepare in her manger heart...

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[song credit: Casting Crowns 2008]

"...earth stood hard as iron..."

"In the bleak midwinter,
icy winds may moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
water like a stone...

What then can I give Him,
Empty as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I would bring a lamb.
If I were a Wise Man,
I would know my part.
What then can I give Him?
I must give my heart."
-Christina Rossetti

James Taylor's version of "In the Bleak Midwinter" is a sound that speaks more than all the words lined-up, ready to dance through the singer's lips and fall like gentle snow on the shoulder of its listener.  I've heard this song performed by other extraordinary singers, choirs, and recording artists, but few  match the sound of this one recording for me. 

This afternoon I went to find an earlier post that used a Corinne May recording, that is also quite lovely, and discovered that I have written a piece each year using this Christina Rossetti lyric as a keynote.  So I am including all three of those "In the Bleak Midwinter" posts here in case you would like to read them.

Now for this year's "In the Bleak Midwinter" story. 

It was a cold February morning and I was on crutches after severely injuring my ankle in "freak fall" earlier that month.  I'd found my peace the first day, while lying in bed struggling with pain that seemed to shatter my thoughts and send them splintering off in un-focused directions of terror and aloneness, when I picked up my Bible lesson and read the statement, "..and the Lord was with Joseph."  And it struck me immediately that if the Lord was with Joseph in prison, he was with me, right there in bed, and it became all that mattered...all that I cared, or wanted to think, about .  He'd been with Nelson Mandela in prison, Jesus in the sepulchre, Corrie Ten Boom in a concentration camp...their examples of finding a resonant peace and an unshaken dignity in the midst of bleak conditions gave me strength.

The same friend who'd called earlier that morning to check in, knowing that my husband was working out of state, got the girls to school, picked up our puppy, and brought food and crutches.  But once she'd left, I was alone...with God. The details of that story are found in a post from last February titled, "And he walks with me..."  (linked here). The next few weeks, once the girls were at school, were spent alone at home with my divine Parent.  I was able to "crutch" to the car and drive the girls to school and back, but once up the stairs and in the house again, I'd remain pretty non-ambulatory...at my desk or in bed taking calls, praying and writing.

After a few weeks however, I was still crutching around, unable to put any weight on the ankle, and the swelling was still quite evident.  I'd gotten down the icy front steps without incident one morning so that I could drive the girls to school, but when I pulled back into the driveway I hadn't noticed that short walk from the driveway to the steps was covered with black ice.  I placed my crutches on the ground and swung myself off the front seat and as I balanced on my "good foot" lifting the crutches to the next position forward, the rubber caps on the bottom of the crutches slipped on the ice and I lost my balance hitting the ground hard...ground that stood "hard as iron...water like a stone" covering its surface. 

The fall hurt, knocked the wind out of me, I wasn't sure how I would get to a standing position without crawling all the way up the steps and to be honest I just felt humiliated, tired, and as broken as the poor Nutcracker in Tchaikovsky's ballet.  But in my case there was no Sugar Plum fairy to spirit me off to the Land of Sweets and make me whole again.  There was no husband, there was no ...oh my gosh, there was no cell phone. 

That was when I started to panic.  My cell phone had flow out of my hand and was ringing from under the bushes that surround our front porch.  I felt helpless and hopeless.  I wanted to cry...I wanted to cry "uncle"...enough!

That was when I actually felt the first gentle touch of God's hand on my shoulder, "shshhing" me and asking me to "be still," and I stopped long enough to actually listen.  With my elbows in the dirt and my legs all akimbo under me on the hard ground of winter, the strains of "...earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone..." started singing through my heart. 

I rolled onto my back and looked up at the bleak gray winter sky and let the plaintive "sound" of the last verse speak to me of God's care for a baby in a cold manger, a man in a prison cell, and me on "earth as hard as iron".  I grasped the full weight of the last verse in my heart:

"What then can I give him
Empty as I am?
If I were a Shepherd
I would bring a lamb.
If I were a Wise man,
I would know my part.
What then can I give him?
I must give my heart.

I stayed there on my back letting the warm weight of those words sink into the core of my being.  I stared up though the moaning black fingers of the bare dogwood tree...and her overarching neighbor, the ancient prickly pod-decorated sweet gum tree...at a sky so gray and steely I could actually feel the word "bleak" with my eyes.  So I closed them and pushed my focus inward towards the space of my heart.  I wondered, "How could I give Christ my heart in that moment...crumpled on the walkway?"

And I realized it was simple.  I could be conscious.  I could be grateful.  I could love, and pray, and sing, and think, and "praise God"...Laus Deo! I could do all those things.  I was able-minded. I was fully capable of loving. And, I could make more of a difference in the world from a position of abject humility, rather than standing strong and hard as iron, anyway.  I was right where I needed to be in that moment...that was all I needed to know.  I could give my heart.

So I did.  I stayed focused on the space of my heart...the cold ground, the damp air, the gray sky lost their bleakness.  I let love pour out in radiant waves of affection...stronger and stronger... with each ripple spreading farther and farther out from its center.   Love for my husband, my children, my family, friends, colleagues, neighbors, community, the world, the universe...larger and larger, concentric circles of appreciation, respect, honor, blessing, peace reaching out from the living, breathing, glowing molten magma core of Love that abides in each of us.

I don't know how long I lay there.  I only know it was long enough to melt the ice I was lying on.  And when I opened my eyes, I saw that the mailman was approaching at a pretty good clip, with a look of genuine concern on his face.  I assured him that I was fine...and I was. 

He helped me right myself, find my bearings, brush myself off, retrieve my phone from under the bushes, get my books from the car, spryly crutch up the front steps, before handing me the mail...as I thanked him for all he had done.  He told me that he usually drove his truck through our neighborhood in the winter, delivering mail from the warmth of his vehicle, but that this morning he had felt almost pulled from his vehicle by the desire to go door-to-door hoping to run into someone and strike up a conversation.  So with that...we did.

We had a lovely conversation about his family, our neighborhood, my children, his parents, the schools, my husband's work, health care, and God.  I'd learned once again, as Mary Baker Eddy assures us, that:

"The very circumstance, which your suffering sense
deems wrathful and afflictive,
Love can make an angel entertained unawares."

It was a perfect morning for entertaining angels...in the bleak midwinter.

with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"As long as I have a heart..."

"…As long as I have a heart
You've a safe place to dream in
A tree to carve your name in
As long as I have a heart
As long as you need a love
That time won't take away
Baby you have it made
As long as I have a heart…"
-Henry/Wilson

I was talking to my daughter today.  She is on the other side of the world in  another hemisphere.  At night she looks up at the Southern Cross.  While we are shivering in the bitter cold of winter, she is enjoying a sunny beach.  But when I think of her, and especially when I am talking to her…and the sound of her voice is filling all the space within my heart and head…I am not in a place defined by geography.  There are no latitudes and longitudes mapping out our locations.  We are one.

Her laughter is the most beautiful place I have ever been.  Her thoughts…the expanse of her dreams, the simple undulating rhythms of her day…are the landscape of this mother's heaven.   When she speaks I can feel her small fingers entwined in mine as tangibly as when we crossed streets on our way to Kindergarten when she was five.

Today, this song from Kathy Matthea's 1987  "Untasted Honey" CD sang through my heart all day as I thought of her.  My heart became her homestead the moment she arrived…tiny, strong, beautiful, feisty, funny, alert, and full of questions from the very start…she was (and still is) all of my dreams come true.

This heart of mine stands ready to yield its resources, accept the seeds of her dreams, provide shelter from the winds of doubt and frustration, remind her that we both are under the sovereign governance of a supremely good God, and welcome her home…always.

Because of her, I have learned that there is no time in this land of Love.  I have discovered that Love knows no distance and cannot be defined by space.  Love has only one address…the heart.  This heart never tires, never plumbs the depth of its capacity to respond, never thinks in portions, never holds on to what doesn't bless, and never lets go of her child's hand.  This heart is the home she can never leave and will always be there to find respite and refreshment in.

As long as I have a heart….she, and her sisters, have a home that will never change.

"…My love will always hold you near
No matter where you go…you're here…"

Kate