Tag Archives: worth

Hope Full

Leave a reply

I’m tired this morning. I want to crawl back in bed like my daughter and husband, who have colds. But I find myself feeling grateful for physical tiredness, preferring it to mental or emotional tiredness. Michael and I are enjoying a season of peace and joy in our marriage. I’m soaking up the wonder and belonging of friendship with other women. I’m underprepared for Christmas, yet taking it all in stride, doing one thing at a time. (Michael’s comment on this atypical flexibility: “You’re not the woman I married.”) For the first time in my life, I am spending more time present to what is in front of me, and less time captive to what is behind or beyond me.

Sometimes I feel guilty for enjoying my life (because others have less) or I worry the other shoe is about to drop (it has to someday). What a rash way to live, devaluing what is in front of me because I don’t know what is behind it, or because someone else doesn’t have it.

What a privilege to be wife to Michael and mom to Kayt and Kyli, to belong in a family where we enjoy each other. Books are stacked high on my nightstand, and firewood is stacked high for cozy evenings. I have every kind of music at my fingertips through our music subscriptions and home speakers. I have comfortable clothes and slippers, warm children’s cheeks to press against and a stubbly masculine face to kiss. I am rich, rich, rich.

I am surprised as I rise on this fountain of abundance, knowing that if I fall it will be so worth it. I am full, and this moment is here, not threatening to squeeze me empty, but to stuff me even fuller.

Life will empty me too, and that’s okay. Not being defined by how full or empty I am is precisely what allows me to enjoy fullness more than I ever have, and to know that being empty will also be acceptable—receivable. My unshakeable center is not good fortune, but my own worth. The lyrics of “Oh Holy Night” capture me.

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth;
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
‘Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn;
Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices!

The soul felt its worth. This hope that finds us in our weariness is a miracle—for all times, places, and people. I’m more willing than ever to fall on my knees and hear the angel voices singing—in my daughters’ eyes, the falling snow, hot water rinsing dirty dishes, warm clothes out of the dryer, text messages and songs, Christmas shopping and sleep. The angel voices are everywhere.

That’s God

Leave a reply

Last evening my sister, my husband, and I attended a screening of the documentary Since I Been Down, which follows the lives of young men and boys from the Hilltop neighborhood in Tacoma, Washington, to prison. For more info, visit https://www.sinceibeendown.com. There’s also an excellent synopsis of the storyline here: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt14519366/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1. What follows is my musing after seeing the film.

When someone who has a 777-year prison sentence lives with purpose and hope, that’s God.

When a mother, whose innocent son was shot and killed, forgives—that’s God.

When tattooed men in a prison classroom understand justice as listening to the person next to them, that’s God.

When men who are quarantined from society, for life, choose to give of themselves to the people around them, that’s God.

When men of different races, from opposing gangs, covered with tattoos that censure each other, sit at the same table and joke together, that’s God.

When an older gang member slips $5 to a middle school gang member because he knows that kids’ parents aren’t putting food on the table, that’s God.

When a man who has been shown that he is worth nothing, finds that he is worth something, that’s God.

When fear and self-protection give way to curiosity, and then to the intimacy of shared humanity, that’s God.

When a grandmother forgives the mom who beat her three-year-old granddaughter to death, that’s God.

When a woman stands with the oppressed, and she voices that we are all perpetrators and we are all victims, that’s God.

When a lifer feels free for the brief moments he stands in front of his peers in a prison classroom, that’s God.

God was the Life in this film, though His name was never mentioned.

For where there is courage, compassion, and creativity, that’s God.

Where there is forgiveness, faithfulness, and friendship, that’s God.

Where there is hope, humility, and humor, that’s God.

In the movie It’s a Wonderful Life, George Bailey visits the richest man in town—Mr. Potter—and begs for help when he is at the end of his rope. After grilling George about his assets, and finding the only monetary asset he has is a $500 life insurance policy, Mr. Potter tells him, “You’re worth more dead than alive.” George Bailey stumbles from Mr. Potter’s office and finds his way to a bridge, where he would have ended his life, were it not for a tattered angel who showed him his worth without reference to money.

Many men and women have been told by those of us with money that they are worth more dead than alive.

When beauty and passion arise in a place where men are left for dead, that’s God.

God, who was tried, tortured, and killed, emerged from a guarded tomb, alive. And He stands with those who are tried, sentenced, locked away, and guarded, and—through them—shows us what it looks like to be alive.