Finding Rest in the Terrain of Life

by Doreen Stelling, Spiritual Director

The hike promised amazing views of the Maine coastline.  That sounded good to me!  To get to the trail we first crossed a beautiful beach cove, took some pictures and stepped on the trail heading up.

My husband, Dave and I were on vacation last week celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary, and Acadia National Park was one of our stops.  We have hiked many mountain trails over the years.  Usually I enjoy the process of getting to the intended view, but this time I just wanted to get there!  The trail was labeled moderate, and I guess the other side was–but not the side we started on.  There was a lot of climbing and heaving yourself up rocks.  It has been a few years since I have hiked even a small mountain trail, and my 50-year-old joints were complaining.

This is supposed to be fun I told myself.  Why am I not enjoying this?  It’s an effort-filled hike, not a pleasant one.  I thought about how I should think about this as a metaphor for some aspect of life, or how I could lament my older, achier joints.  No, I just wanted it to be over with so we could get to the next stop on the map.

We finally caught a glimpse of the beach far below and took pictures.  Then we came upon some boulders that were made for sitting and taking in the view.  I was aware of the grumpiness building inside me and I didn’t want to ruin the hike for Dave, so I thought it wise to sit, catch my breath and nourish my body with a snack.  Slowly, I began to relax.  Slowly, my energy was being restored.  Slowly, I was reminded of the importance of stopping to rest.  But wasn’t the vacation our rest as we stopped from work and the daily routines at home?  Wasn’t this hike part of the stopping to take in nature? Well, yes and yes.  I realized in that moment the importance of taking the time to nourish one’s mind, body and or soul even in the midst of vacationing.  Five, 10 or 15 minutes can make a difference.  I can easily say that I had a refreshed perspective to continue the hike.  As we stood to hike on I thought about the importance of noticing what is stirring inside me.  When I do notice that I am about to make my life or someone else’s life more difficult, choosing a short break to be still, eat or close my eyes is a gift that I can give myself as well as those around me.

I guess the hike could be a metaphor if I want it to be.  Mostly, I am reminded simply to take breaks to be still, to be nourished, then continue to “hike” whatever “trail” I am on.

Breaking the Silence

by Erin Luginbuhl, M.A.

This week, millions of Americans will feel the pinch of the IRS on April 15th, if they haven’t already, while several politicians are slated to join the 2016 campaign field.  No doubt both topics will come up at the water cooler in passing small talk, despite the old adage which says it’s impolite to talk about sex, politics and money.  I often have sensed the awkward tension surrounding these culturally taboo topics.

Think of your own home for a moment.  Do you, as I sometimes have, inadvertently follow this adage, particularly in regards to sex and money?  Both carry much pleasure, pain, power and unfortunately shame.  According to author and researcher Brene Brown, shame needs three things to grow exponentially:  silence, secrecy, and judgment—the very things our cultural adage encourages.

Take, for instance, what Dr. John Chirban has to say in his book How to Talk with Your Kids About Sex: Help Your Children Develop a Positive, Healthy Attitude Toward Sex and Relationships.  In it, Chirban addresses the importance of having an ongoing conversation about sexuality with your children and notes most parents engage in “telegraphic exchanges”.  He provides an example of a father and child at a sporting event when the child notices a billboard for Viagra accompanied by a picture of a man smiling.

Chirban writes, “Your child asks, ‘What’s Va-gra? Vi-a-gra? What does that mean’ to which you probably can’t come up with a better response than ‘Let’s just watch the game!’  Though it may seem minor at the time, this communication essentially sends a telegram to your child that reads something like this:

DEAR CHILD—I’M UNCOMFORTABLE WITH TALKING ABOUT SEX (STOP)

PRETEND NOTHING HAPPENED (STOP)

DON’T ASK IN THE FUTURE (STOP)

SUPPRESS CURIOSITY (STOP)

XO—PARENT”

Though this seems like such a simple exchange, there truly are bigger ramifications—for silence and actions communicate just as profoundly as words.  In college, I recall reading one of Suze Orman’s many money management books and was struck by her words, “We all know that kids are sponges.  They don’t do as you say, they do as you do”.  Perhaps in your own home, your parents were silent on the topics of money and sex and, unknowingly, you have simply followed course.  Talking about sex and sexuality is hard, uncomfortable, and awkward, especially if you have yet to sort out your own understanding of its impact on you personally, but it’s not too late to offer your children and your family something different.

Dave Ramsey, financial guru, often praises individuals who call into his radio show for their debt free scream as they, specifically families with children, have chosen to change their family tree and offer an experience in which money now offers freedom instead of slavery.  In the same way, Chirbin offers suggestions and strategies to assist in creating comfortability and emotional safety as you engage your family in honest, healthy conversations about sex and sexuality.  For these very conversations can shatter the bonds of shame and secrecy and cultivate wholeness and life.

So, let’s lay to rest impropriety and rewrite that old adage which keeps us silent and offer something different to our children.  Let’s build open relationships that eradicate shame instead of encouraging it.  Let’s offer something different to our children that they might experience freedom as they move into the future.  Now that’s a topic worth talking about.

A Trip to Costco and a Lesson on Grace

by Rachel Blackston, M.A.

Our cupboards were bare.  I had just fed Hannah the heel on a loaf of bread with a small smidgen of peanut butter scraped from the bottom of the jar.  I was avoiding it…a trip to Costco.

We were on the brink of nap time so I knew the risks as I loaded Norah (7 months old) into the carrier and Hannah (age 2) in the large section of the cart.   “I’ll just run in and out in 30 minutes,” I said to myself as I gently tried to calm the part of myself that was overtaken by anxiety.

Once in the store, I knew I was headed for a danger zone when Hannah spotted the section of merchandise from Frozen.  “I’ll just let her out of the cart for a few minutes,” I thought to myself.  Fifteen minutes later, she was running up and down the toy aisle singing, “Let It Go” with a toy microphone.  I braced myself for the transition to move from the Frozen section to the frozen food section.   I attempted to share my rationale with my 2-year-old.  It was a total fail.  As I hoisted her back into the cart, she kicked and screamed, “I want Elsa, I want Elsa, I want Elsa.”  Being a good therapist, I tried to validate her emotions.  Her screaming only intensified.

With Hannah back in the cart, I began surrounding her with bulk items including a hot rotisserie chicken and an oversized box of diapers.   In my attempts to appease her, I opened an enormous package of animal crackers while I ran through the freezer section that felt like a walk into an arctic blast while my baby was dressed in a onesie.

I must have looked like a spectacle, and people weren’t shy in offering their comments.  Some just looked and said, “You have your hands full.”  Others offered parenting advice or looks of contempt.   Some people had nostalgia in their eyes.  One older gentleman said, “You are lucky.”  With Norah’s now overtired screams, I asked him more and he told me of his grandchildren that he’s never met because of an estrangement with his daughter.  I was touched by his openness, and my heart was moved as I saw the sadness in his eyes.

On a normal day, I would have felt shame when others looked at me in these moments when I wore my need and failures as a parent all over me.  However on this particular day, I decided to embrace my inadequacy.  I allowed myself to be present with others, taking in their kindness and practical help.  I had people offering to hold my baby and load items in my cart.  One particular interaction with a Costco employee brought me to tears.  Nearing the checkout line now 77 minutes into our trip, I mentioned to a man in a red Costco vest that I forgot the toilet paper and wondered where I could find it.   When he pointed to the back corner of the store, it felt like heading back there would be scaling Mt. Everest.  As he saw the look on my face, he nonchalantly asked my brand preference and proceeded to retrieve it for me.  I was stunned by his kindness.

Finally, as a stranger offered to help me load the van, my eyes welled with tears as I thought of the humility and love of Jesus.  I didn’t deserve kindness on that day.  My parenting was subpar, my boundaries were poor, my toddler wasn’t buckled into the appropriate section of the cart, and the trip was poorly planned.   I was a mess, but I left feeling loved and connected.  As I was reflecting on this story, I thought of words on a recent Lenten blog by Ann Voskamp,  And it all comes round like a circle — His grace that you accept for yourself — is the same grace you then extend to others — which then graciously circles back to you.”  God used these strangers to remind me of His radical grace and commitment to me, despite me.  

What’s In A Man?

by Lindsey Coates, M.A.

I’ve never been a man. That’s a pretty indisputable fact. I have found myself wondering often, though, what it is like to live in a man’s skin. I used to make gross assumptions based on cultural stereotypes and snide remarks from angry women, but I have come to realize those are pretty poor representations of men. Actually, seeing all men the same is a pretty poor representation. I would never tell someone to base their understanding of all women just by knowing me – that would be ludicrous!

Comedian Chelsea Peretti does a bit in her standup routine about what it must be like to wake up every day as a man. She wonders, out loud, if men just open their eyes in the morning and say, “I am awesome! People want to hear what I have to say!” That may be true for some men, but as I counsel men and get to know them on a deeper level, that seems to be another misconception. I like to read Esquire often because I feel like it gives me a glimpse into what men are being told to do. Men’s magazines are just as patronizing and ridiculous as women’s – sometimes even more so! I have felt so much more compassion towards men when I have seen that they are given the same cultural mandates that I am given as a woman, just with different packaging.

I recently re-watched the movie Nine. It is a brilliant film that received no press when it was released in 2010. Nine is the story of Guido (played by Daniel Day Lewis), an Italian movie director who is tortured by his own self as well as the women who have rotated in and out of his life. Throughout the film, Guido runs from every situation and into the arms of another woman to solve his problems. He is confident, witty, chic, and handsome on the outside, but insecure, terrified, and manic when he is alone. He can’t sleep, can’t work, and begins to drown in his own demons.

The character of Guido got me thinking…what is it like to be a man? What is it like to live in the image God created for man – to exude strength, compassion, leadership, servanthood, paternity, and childlike faith all at the same time? That seems like a pretty tall order to me. In a culture where we receive so many paradoxical messages about what it means to be a man – “Be sexy”, “Be tough”, “Be sensitive”, “Be in shape”, “Be resilient”, “Be anything and anyone but who you are…” – what is a man supposed to do?

In this new year, I have been challenged several times to focus on who I am becoming rather than what I have done. I wonder what that would feel like if I were a man. I know the challenges and gifts of femininity, but I can’t help but wonder if other men struggle like Guido – trying to be everything everyone wants them to be to the extent that they don’t even know who they are or what they are becoming. My prayer for all of the men I know this year, and even for the ones I don’t know, is that they are able to live into who they are becoming, and not what Esquire says they must become.

Living with Longing

by Sarah Born, M.A.

I didn’t grow up in a liturgical church, so a few years ago when friends started talking about Advent, I felt a little lost. Little did I know, I was already on a journey that would put me right in a church that is highly liturgical–in the Anglican tradition. That in itself is a story for another day, but the point is that the church calendar has been gaining a lot of significance in my life.

According to the church calendar, three Sundays ago we ushered in the New Year with the start of Advent. I’ve come to understand that Advent, a word that means “coming”, is a season of anticipation and longing. As the calendar plays out the story of Christ, this season provides anticipation of the day we celebrate his birth. It also reminds us that we are still longing for his second advent–the time when he comes again and all things are made right.

Anticipation and longing describe experiences that are so familiar to me. You see, as a counselor, I hear stories of suffering, pain and struggle that cry out in anticipation and longing for things to be made right. So this year, as we entered the season of Advent, I recognized those familiar “companions” that so many of us feel all year-round. It’s sort of like wondering if Christmas is every really going to come.

Anticipation and longing are really appropriate experiences of this time of year. We live in the middle of a story unfinished so we must anticipate and we must long for something more. Recognizing this has calmed my urge to avoid the discomfort of anticipating and longing. It is appropriate and belongs–and provides hope because it reveals the story isn’t over.

Be Still

by Doreen Stelling

My work hours have changed this fall.  Instead of a random part-time schedule set by me, I am working full-time, Monday through Friday.  This has changed my weekend experience significantly!  I have found that physically I am not too worn out, but rather, mentally and emotionally I am depleted.

I am blessed to have a husband who pitches in around the house a great deal.  As many of you know (especially if you have children at home) there is always laundry to be done, bathrooms to be cleaned, errands to catch up on, piles of “stuff” to sort through, and for a person like me, alone time, quiet time, self-care time to attend to.

If I don’t incorporate self-care I will surely implode!  My threshold for patience, empathy, love and capacity will be significantly lowered.  Self-care looks different for everyone.  It depends a lot on a person’s personality.  What refreshes one person doesn’t do a thing for another.  Most of us need exercise.  I need and crave alone time.  I want time to do my own thing.  BUT, I really need alone time with the Lord, Jesus.  I might sit down with a book about Jesus, or about spirituality or the Bible.  During this time I lay all the burdens and exhaustion I feel before him.  I tell him like it is, the good, the bad and the ugly.  He tells me like it is from his perspective.  I like to sit quietly to “listen” and just be still.  This is difficult for the human mind!  Thoughts fly in and out at rapid speed or we wander into a daydream.  This is okay though.  As my Spiritual Director once told me, “Jesus doesn’t condemn you for that, he just likes it when you turn your face back to him.”  Quoting from one of my favorite authors, Philip Yancy says in his book The Jesus I Never Knew, “We sometimes use the term “savior complex” to describe an unhealthy syndrome of obsession over curing other’s problems (or our own I might add).  The true Savior, however seemed remarkably free of such a complex.  He had no compulsion to convert the entire world in His lifetime or to cure people who were not ready to be cured.  In short, Jesus showed an incredible respect for human freedom.  ‘Take up your cross and follow me’ Jesus said, in the least manipulative invitation that has ever been given.”

Jesus is so kind and receptive to messy-minded people like me.  He doesn’t force his ways on us. He understands our humanity.  When I sit with people in spiritual direction I say that this is a time to hit the pause button, stop all the doing and practice just being.  This doesn’t have to happen just in spiritual direction, but can be practiced any time, any place.  It’s more important than ever for me on the weekends to take time to pause.  With the help of my spiritual director, I have learned to listen and to notice the movement of God in my life.  I have learned and am still learning to lay all things at his feet…everything from chores to relational conflict to self- doubt to celebrations.  This is good self-care!

“Be still and know that I am God,” says Psalm 46:10.  Be still my body, my mind, and my soul, and the true Spiritual Director, Jesus, will mysteriously give me perspective and moment-by-moment strength through his Holy Spirit.

The Parable of the Pornographer

by Lindsey Coates, M.A.

Last week, my brother sent me an email with a link to a sermon by Tim Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City. It may not seem odd that a brother would email his sister a sermon, but it may strike some people that the sermon was about sex or, more specifically about “Love and Lust” referencing Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5:27-30. To provide a little context: my brother and I are five years apart in age and we are both single. Over the past year or so, we have begun to open up to each other about the differences in being single as male and female, and in different stages of life. He had gleaned a lot from this sermon, so he shared it with me in hopes that I would be able to benefit as well.

On the same day that I listened to Keller’s powerful words about sex, I also happened to watch a documentary from my Netflix cue titled After Porn Ends, a film that follows some of the men and women who have left the adult entertainment industry and are now trying to live “normal” lives. Like many people, I have always had my own perceptions and assumptions about the people who have sex on camera, and I have worked with clients who have come out of prostitution. I have heard of the heartbreak, addiction cycle, and sometimes-fatal consequences of working in the pornography industry, but I have never heard the voices of the performers themselves.

I learned so much from this 90-minute film. I learned about the Pink Cross Foundation, which was developed by a former pornographic actress who now commits her time and resources to helping people get out of the industry that almost consumed her life. I learned that the women who were interviewed entered the adult entertainment industry either out of financial desperation or being tricked, and that the men who spoke got into it to “prove something” about themselves. I learned that one man’s estimate of the number of partners he had sex with on camera was “at least 3,000 women”. I also learned from another male interviewee that the porn industry seemingly offers men and women “immortality, validation, and credibility” for “one bright, shining moment” but it all actually turns out to be “a death wish”.

These facts just scratch the surface of what I learned about life in the pornography business, but what struck me most was how similar the actors’ and actresses’ words were to Tim Keller’s in his sermon on sex. Keller refers to sex as a creation of God, meant to be enjoyed and delighted within the context of a covenant. He notes that sex used as a marketing tool for relationship ends in debilitating shame and even in abuse. John Leslie, former adult entertainment “superstar” said that “sex loses its mystery” when staged and filmed. One former porn actress said that “porn is worse than prostitution” because it is publicly viewed and even the cameramen are engaged in the process, causing further shame for the actress.

On the surface, it may seem that Keller and those who were interviewed in the film were discussing very different topics: one talking about lust and sex and the others talking about an entire sex industry. But are the topics really that different? As I reflect on my own story and the stories of people whom I have worked with, I hear the same voices of shame, hopelessness, confusion, and pain. I think of spouses who have been rejected in the bedroom, single men and women who want to know what to do with their sexual desires, people who have been unfaithful or who have been cheated on, the spouse who has a sexually explicit past but is too scared to tell anyone, the sex addict, the spouse or partner of a sex addict, the person who judges the sex addict because they are afraid of their own sexual desires…the list is so long.

No matter what the struggle looks like, it is clear to me that there is a lot of pain and confusion around what, I believe, is the most intimate and vulnerable part of each of us. There is truth to be found in even the most unlikely of places, whether that is from the pulpit or in a film about former porn stars. What matters is that we keep talking so that shame does not continue to grow in the darkness of silence.

Colorful Perspectives

by Marcia Butcher, M.A.

It is quite amazing how even happy couples can sometimes see things so differently. I was reminded of this just the other day, when my husband and I were selecting paint for the living room of our new home. Or perhaps I should say trying to select paint.

We were excited about decorating together, and even though we had a shared desire and goal, it did not prove to be quite as simple as we had expected. As it turned out, we could look at the same paint sample and see things quite differently. To him, one shade looked blue-gray, while to me it was clearly very sky-blue!

I paused and thought about other occasions when couples look at the same issue–whether it be money, parenting, in-laws, sex–but see it from different perspectives. We might do well to consider that our partner is not (necessarily) just being obstinate! They may just truly see it differently.

In the same way that my husband’s eyes and brain interpreted the paint sample distinct from mine, a person’s life experiences and personality may allow them to look at something and process it entirely differently than you. I could not talk my husband’s eyes into seeing sky-blue instead of blue-gray!

But that wasn’t all that was revealed. No only did we see the same paint sample differently than each other, we also saw it differently ourselves! Depending on the light and the time of day, and even the other colors against which the sample was held, the color could look slightly different to us.

Not only is it important to remember that the content of an issue may be seen differently by other people, but also the context in which we view the issue can alter our perception. Many factors shape our perception–the stories of our lives, our inherent personality, our birth order in our family of origin, or even what we ate for breakfast that morning! No wonder communication can be so tricky at times. In the light of so many reasons for potential misunderstanding, it takes time, energy, and grace to work towards understanding one anothe

Living in the Ordinary

by Erin Luginbuhl, M.A.

I’m behind the times.  Hashtags aren’t a natural part of my vocabulary and I don’t typically peruse “trending topics” in my social media newsfeed, yet recently I stumbled upon a mother’s heartfelt letter as I clicked my way through a shared article on Facebook.

Written almost seven months ago, Renee Robinson’s “A Letter to My Sons (the real reason I say no to electronics)” explores being present in relationship, something many struggle with in this age of busyness and electronic stimulation.  More often than not, the events of every day get glossed over; yet, this idea of being present in them is not simply a trending topic.

Playwright Thorton Wilder captured such an idea in his work Our Town, written in the 1930s.  Touching on relationships and everyday life, the most notable lesson is displayed in the play’s final scenes.  After realizing she has the power to relive any day she desires, the deceased Emily Webb chooses to go back to her 12th birthday.  Before making this decision, her deceased mother-in-law exhorts her to choose any day, as it will be special enough.  Grieved by what she sees in her return, Emily asks the stage manager, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?” to which he responds, “saints and poets, maybe”.

Within Our Town, characters realize what was missed in the face of loss, and often it is only from this vantage point we find our perspective disrupted enough to enact change.  Author, speaker and researcher Brene Brown highlights a similar point in her work The Gifts of Imperfection, writing, “I think I learned the most about the value of ordinary from interviewing men and women who have experienced tremendous loss such as the loss of a child, violence, genocide, and trauma.  The memories that they held most sacred were the ordinary, everyday moments.  It was clear that their most precious memories forged from a collection of ordinary moments, and their hope for others is that they would stop long enough to be grateful for those moments and the joy they bring.”

And so, throughout the year iCalendar reminders, Facebook feeds or memories tell us to stop and remember certain people, places, or events in our past—all of which is good and right.  Yet, we have the opportunity to gather stories every day in our daily lives.  Little fragments of what seem to be merely mundane activities pieced together create a glorious story to be remembered and treasured.

Several years ago, I returned to the U.S. after spending time in China.  While attending a seminar geared to help individuals leave well, the speaker challenged how I’d been living life.  Too often I said no to casual get togethers because stacks of papers waited to be graded and lessons needed to be planned.  Even in the midst of being with people, to-do lists ran like a news ticker through my mind, causing me to miss relationships in front of my very eyes.

At the time, my counselor said, “We make time for the things that are important to us” and my conditioned internal response was “in theory”.  Obligations and responsibilities loomed large on my internal radar and crowded out these ordinary moments to rest in the comfort and companionship of my community of friends.  How often I was physically present, yet mentally and emotionally elsewhere.

In Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning writes, “it is through immersion in the ordinary—the apparently empty, trivial, and meaningless experiences of a routine day—that life/Life is encountered and lived.  Real living is not about words, concepts, and abstractions but about experience of who or what is immediately before us.”

How do you embrace these moments of the ordinary?  Perhaps that’s a hashtag to create.

Q & A with Sarah Born

by J. Michael Blackston, M.A.

This month Sarah Born joined our team after graduating from Reformed Theological Seminary.  She lives in the Lake Nona area and has a heart to provide soul care in this growing area of Central Florida.  I had a chance to ask her a few questions so you can get to know her more.

Michael: How did you become interested in becoming a counselor?

Sarah: I can think of a number of opportunities over a period of years that culminated in me pursuing this profession. Part of my interest grew while I was in college from a year of working in the Dean’s Office and another year as a Resident Advisor on campus. These opportunities really peaked my interest in working with people. After college I spent two years as a Professional Advisor for over 600 college students. Many of my conversations during this time revolved around their personal struggles, plans, hopes and disappointments in addition to academic planning. Additionally, significant people in my life encouraged my interest in becoming a counselor. But I think it was really my own personal counseling experience that solidified this as my own personal vocation. It is such an honor to sit with people, often during some of the most difficult seasons in their lives, and extend care and offer hope.

Michael: Congratulations on graduating with your Master’s degree last month. Share a highlight and a challenge from your two-year experience.

Sarah: One of the highlights from the past two years was working alongside my classmates in the clinic. There was always a sense of support and encouragement. The program was also challenging because it really threw off the routine that my husband and I were so used to. I spent many late nights in the clinic and I don’t think we ever quite adjusted to that change in our schedule.

Michael: How would you describe your counseling style and approach in working with your clients?

Sarah: I’m trained in a relational style of counseling. I believe the relationship between the counselor and the client is considerably important for contributing to therapeutic change. I am passionate about a counseling environment that provides the client space to begin to speak honestly about their life.

Michael: Tell me about your heart for the Lake Nona area.

Sarah: Three years ago my husband and I moved to the Lake Nona area to be close to my husband’s new employer, Wycliffe. We never imagined we would plant ourselves here long-term. However, three years have gone by and now we can’t imagine living anywhere else. As I started the counseling program I was aware that there were NO counselors on a full-time basis in the area. I was sure that by the time I graduated someone would have opened a counseling office, but no. This provides a really exciting opportunity for me to offer a needed service in Lake Nona. I value being connected to and contributing to the community where I live. I look forward to continuing to build partnerships with pastors, churches and other organizations in the area as we seek to serve Lake Nona together.

Michael: What do you enjoy doing for fun?

Sarah: I love cooking with my husband, beach trips or just an evening hanging out with friends and family. I also enjoy playing with my pup, Winston.

More Than Mud Pies

by Lindsey Coates, M.A.

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.  –C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory

I have never met anyone who did not find C.S. Lewis to be one of the most prolific writers to span generations. Even if you don’t agree with him, he will make you think, laugh, cry, and ponder the very essence of who we are and what we were meant to do, both in this world and in the next. Lewis’ quote comparing us as humans to ignorant children slapping together mud pies is one of my favorites, and it also describes, in a nutshell, my beliefs about counseling. The main reason I am so passionate about what I do is that I have experienced healing and redemption through counseling as well. Like many of my clients, my life has been full of great joy and profound tragedy. While I will never tell someone else I understand what he or she is going through (because I have never been in your shoes and I will not pretend I have), I truly believe that empathy is one of the most important ingredients in the counseling relationship. And it is a relationship. It is an odd one, for sure. Where else do you pour the most intimate details of your life into the hands of someone whom you just met?

This is why Lewis’ words drive home the core of what I believe. We are all capable of living “half-heartedly”, settling for the slums rather than fully recognizing and living into our God-given desires. I am not a woman who has it all figured out–far from it. I am a woman who is passionate about helping people discover what their “mud pies” are, whether they include addiction, sexual brokenness, abusive relationships, broken marriages, or trauma. Once we know where our hurts live, we can begin the process of healing. It takes time. No one becomes whole-hearted over night. But the process is worth the investment of time, resources, energy, and emotions. It gives me no greater joy than to introduce men and women to the freedom of hope. Hope is scary, because it leaves us yearning for more. But, like Lewis wrote so truthfully, we were all created for more.

The Ache of Goodbye

by J. Michael Blackston, M.A.

My 2-year-old daughter, Hannah, already has two boyfriends (cute now, not so cute in about 10 years)! When she sees them, she lights up. A morning full of meltdowns with mommy instantly changes to a glorious day of smiles and laughs in their presence. Bryce and Xander are their names, and in the first two years of their lives they have seen each other multiple times a week. When it’s been a few days without a play date, you’re bound to hear Hannah say something like “I want Bryce.”

Over the past month, and in particular over the last week, Rachel and I have found ourselves talking frequently about Bryce and Xander, but our conversations have been filled with heartache. You see, Bryce and Xander are both moving this summer to different parts of the country. Although we have known it’s been coming for quite some time, we’ve avoided thinking about it. The thought of Hannah not having her buddies around makes us so sad. Rachel and the moms have gotten so close to one another, sharing honestly about the joys and triumphs, as well as the agony and frustrations of motherhood. These women have been such a gift to Rachel.

But they’re leaving. In my attempts to make it better, to “fix it” if you will, I’ll say things to Rachel like, “We’ll still go and visit them,” or Rachel might say, “Hannah will bond with her other friends.” Both of which are true, but both are also attempts to avoid the agony of goodbye. The other night we were lying in bed, and Rachel said something so simple yet so profound. “We just need to name it as it is—a painstaking loss, a loss for us, for Hannah, for them.” It’s so true. No matter how we try to spin it, these relationships that have brought such joy and fullness will forever be changed.

I hate goodbyes. I always have. For years I wondered why, and then one of my seminary professors Chuck DeGroat put words to it: “We weren’t meant for goodbyes.” That statement resonates with me. Our hearts weren’t meant for separation. This is the essence of sin—separation from God, from others, from ourselves. We were made for union with God and one another. That’s why divorce or death or 2-year-olds saying goodbye at the park on their last play date hurts our hearts. It’s not the way it was meant to be.

We’re sad to announce that Redeemer Counseling is also saying goodbye to two of our therapists, Kim Trouten and Becky Valentine. Kim, who is actually Xander’s mom, gave birth to her second child, Zack, this month. She will be moving north with her husband who is pursuing a call to pastoral ministry within a church. They are looking forward to introducing their boys to the four seasons which they have missed while living in Orlando.

Becky is packing her bags next week and heading across country to Wenatchee, Washington. She is a mountain girl, and her heart has longed to be back on the west coast where she grew up. She will be joining a team of Christian counselors to continue providing soul care to individuals and couples.

While we are so excited for the new adventures God has for Kim and Becky, we will miss them dearly, both professionally and personally. They are good woman, who love God and care for others well. I am tempted to talk about the new therapists that will be joining us this summer (and they’re great, but more on that at a later time). Instead, I’ll take my wife’s advice and sit in the loss of these very fine therapists and two wild and adorable boys. By doing so, my heart hurts, but I also find my heart more expanded and grateful to the One who is the giver of every good gift.

Vulnerability: Beauty in the Midst of Adversity

by Kim Trouten, M.A.

I enjoy jewelry.  I especially like big, chunky and colorful necklaces that add a pop of color to my outfits.  But one of my favorite and most meaningful pieces is not big or chunky or colorful but is rather small and doesn’t make much of a statement.  It is a 1”x1” picture of red flowers on branch hung on a simple wire loop.

It is handmade by an artist in California utilizing Japanese art and techniques.  On its own it’s beautiful, but it carries a deeper meaning.   When I bought it, the artist shared with me that the tree branch with red flowers is called winter plum and to the Japanese it symbolizes beauty in the midst of adversity.  The tree blooms when the weather is hard and frigid.  The blooms thrive when the world seems dead, hostile, even.  There is no other sign of life around the tree but yet it blooms, its beauty sounding like a bell in a silent world.

Beauty in the midst of adversity has become a precious phrase to me.  It gives my heart a picture of what it means to flourish as a tender yet strong woman in an often harsh world.  But what is this beauty in a woman that can grow in the midst of adversity?  I believe it is the paradoxical strength of vulnerability.

In her book Strong Women, Soft Hearts Paula Rinehart defines vulnerability as “that paradoxical place where you discover the strength God has placed in you by actually risking the pain you would normally run from—especially in close relationships.”  Vulnerability literally means “able to be wounded,” which seems to have nothing to do with our usual ideas of strength.  We all have a difficult person or situation in our lives that causes us continued pain.  It could be a bank account that’s always hovering near zero, a lingering illness or health problem, a husband who is difficult or impossible to connect with, parents whom you only seem to disappoint, children who want nothing to do with you, a miscarriage or being left out of a group.

To be vulnerable in these situations means to “voluntarily place yourself, for the sake of a larger purpose, in a situation that could bring pain.  You see something at stake—your own spiritual growth or someone else’s—and you are willing to risk your heart in a vulnerable way.”  It takes courage to be vulnerable and share your heart.  It may mean telling a friend, co-worker or relative how they impact you.  It might mean interrupting your husband’s video game to share a low point in your day and hoping he listens and responds with care and sensitivity.

To do this requires us to be aware of our desires and feelings, which can be scary, excruciating even.  We have to ask ourselves such questions as What do I really feel about this situation?  What do I think?  We allow our dreams, fears, needs and losses to matter and this takes courage.  Taking time to know our own hearts isn’t selfish but part of a process that allows us to more wholly offer ourselves to others in love.  How can I deepen a relationship if I don’t know how I feel about it?  Your feelings may be the very instrument that God uses to draw someone closer to him as they see the impact of their sin or mistake.  Or by simply sharing your own need (sharing your heart isn’t always about telling others how they hurt you) you allow someone else the opportunity to give of themselves.

I wish I could tell you that if you become aware of how you feel in a difficult situation and then offer your feelings that the other person/people will respond with understanding, gentleness or a willingness to help.  I wish I could guarantee that for you.  Sometimes that does happen, but sometimes it doesn’t.  Sometimes it all blows up or falls flat and you feel worse than before.  You feel shame in your gut from their response.  How others receive our vulnerability feels huge.  And it is a big deal to our hearts at first.  But over time the response we get is secondary.  “Real success is measured only by the courage it takes to do and say what needs to be done or said.  Strength becomes the amount of vulnerability you can offer.  What it comes down to, essentially, is this: What will you do with your heart, even if no one understands or offers validation?  Will you honor your heart with the dignity God does—regardless of how you are met by others?”

Vulnerability is the beauty in the mist of adversity that we are called to.  It is tenderness, openness, courage and strength all combined in our hearts and offered to others in the face of daunting circumstances.  May God give us the grace to boldly pursue it.

Hope for the Guilt-Ridden Heart

by Becky Valentine, M.A.

We have all been there. We’ve said something we regret, made a thoughtless comment, or behaved badly. Afterward, the memory of our reproachable behavior rolls around in our heads in an unrelenting, repetitive loop. In an effort to alleviate our shame, we rework the event to create a different imaginary ending, a better ending—any ending other than the one we chose. But it does no good. We are buried under a landslide of guilt and appalled in the face of our profound failure.

Guilt is powerful. It can alert us to problems in our lives and relationships. It can provoke us to action. It can also hang on us like old Marley’s chains, send us into hiding, or even masquerade as remorse so the path to change and growth is obscured from sight.

So, what is the scoop with guilt? Is it good or bad? Is it from God? Maybe so, but I have a feeling it is not where God intends for us to live. Instead, I believe our Heavenly Father calls us to walk with him down a much more hopeful path—the unlikely path of godly sorrow.

What is the difference between guilt and godly sorrow? Drs. Henry Cloud and John Townsend differentiate the two in terms of four categories:

1. The Subject—on whom we are focused

2. Time—on what point in time we are concentrating

3. Resolution—how we solve our guilt problem

4. View of God—how we see God when we fail

Guilt

1. Guilt bends us inward. It keeps us focused on “me” and it functions to disconnect “me” from others. Like Adam and Eve, we hide and blame when faced with our own sin. Hiding and blaming always, always, always cut us off from relationship. It is impossible to experience forgiveness or offer love when we feel guilty. The very best we can do from this position is try to salvage our reputation.

2. Guilt keeps us locked in the past. In this place, we ruminate on a bad, unalterable thing we did. Our heart is like the Dead Sea—murky and void of fresh solutions. We marinate in the muck of past failures and wonder why can’t reinvent ourselves despite our sincere vows to do things differently.

3. Guilt leads us to believe we deserve punishment. When we feel guilty, our tendency is to beat ourselves up in hopes of evoking lasting change. Self-condemnation is a splendid way to find temporary relief from an accusing conscience. But it is not transformational.

4. Guilt sees God as a punitive judge who is waiting for us to screw up. We become adversarial, tight-fisted and defensive when we feel guilty. We may feel unlovable, beyond hope, or even self-righteous. It is very hard to receive forgiveness or experience joy in God’s presence when we are pounded by guilt. We are trying too hard to protect ourselves.

Godly Sorrow

1. Godly sorrow, on the other hand, focuses on “us” (you and me) and how our actions affect each other. This is a humble, vulnerable stance—and it is very unnatural. When we truly admit how we have hurt someone, we naturally feel shocked and ashamed. Godly sorrow reverses the effect of guilt by turning us outward to God and his great mercy. This heavenly sadness heightens our longing for reconciliation and calls us to deeper levels of healing. It awakens the ache in our hearts for things to be set right. We ache not merely because we are ashamed, but because we hurt another soul and relationship has been broken. 

2. Godly sorrow invites us to be mindful of the present. It also gives us hope for the future. When we grieve honestly over the damage we have caused, it frees us to admit our need for a new solution that comes from someplace outside ourselves. It prompts us to turn to God, open our hands, and ask his Spirit to transform us. We are not condemned to repeat the past. Instead, we have fresh hope for a different future.

3. Godly sorrow leads to grief over the pain we have inflicted. It is honest without being self-accusatory. Unlike guilt, which drives us to hide, blame or condemn ourselves, this divine sadness turns us outward to look into the eyes of Jesus and the person we have harmed. Godly sorrow opens the door for forgiveness, reconciliation, and inner healing.

4. Godly sorrow is our response to God when we know how dearly he loves us. It is hard to admit the full reality of our sinfulness until we feel safely held in love. Godly sorrow enables us to climb into the arms of our gracious Father, and then gives us the strength to hear his voice as divine Judge. We can open our clenched fists to receive forgiveness because we know his goal is not to shame us, but to heal our relationships and restore hope.

Choosing a Path

On what path do you tend to travel? Is your bent toward shame or sorrow? If you identify with the description of guilt, my guess is that you are feeling really guilty about your guilt right now. Take heart. You are not alone. Lift your head. There is hope! Beneath the shame, there is a beautiful desire to be fully known and wholly loved despite your faults and failings. Start by asking God to reveal his loving kindness toward you (Psalm 103). Enlist his help in answering the question: “How is guilt keeping me from being known and loved?” Lastly, take courage. The narrow path of godly sorrow doesn’t lead downward to infinite sadness. Rather, it leads up and outward to freedom and joy.

“Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.” (Ecclesiastes 7:3)

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4)

Q and A with Dave Stelling

by Rachel Blackston, M.A., M. Ed.

We are very excited to be adding Dave Stelling to our team of therapists at Redeemer Counseling.  Dave has a vast array of experience in ministry and counseling.  In 2004, he graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with his Master’s degree in Counseling.  Last week, I asked Dave a few questions so you can hear more of his heart.

Rachel: Tell me how you got into the field of counseling.

Dave:  After 15 years of working in campus ministry with Cru I recognized that getting some professional counseling training would help me in the work I was doing with college students and Cru staff.

R: What do you love about your job as a therapist?

D: I love helping families and marriages that are experiencing conflict.  I love it when change happens in people’s hearts and reconciliation occurs.

R: What are your specialty areas?

D: My first love is working with couples and families.  I also enjoy working with teenagers that are in conflict with their parents.

R: Tell us about your family.

D: I have been married to my wife Doreen for 23 years.  She is my best friend and partner in life and my work.  We both have similar values and calling for our lives.  We have 3 children.  My daughters are 21 and 18 and are college students and work jobs part time.  My son is 15 and now taller than me!  He is a very good football player and someday hopes to play college football.

R: What do you like to do with your free time?

D: I enjoy many sports both as an activity and as a fan.  I regularly play tennis, basketball and racquetball.  I also enjoy going to the gym with my wife and taking walks with her.  Because I work with people, I do like my alone time reading, reflecting and sitting out by the pool.

Helpless

by Kim Trouten, M.A.

Lately I find myself being “that woman” in public. That woman whose life seems a mess, and you either feel pity for her or wonder why she can’t get it together. That woman with a crying baby in one arm and the contents of her purse falling out in the other. That woman who looks like she hasn’t showered in a few days (and probably hasn’t).

Today it was a pretty small incident. I was at Chick-fil-a for lunch with my toddler. I had him on my right hip, and our tray of food in my left hand. As I wove through the lunch crowd to find a seat, my drink tipped over on the tray and spilled on me and the floor. I put the tray down on a random person’s table, attempting to grab my drink before it all came out. The mess had the potential to get even bigger within seconds. That is when I had that familiar feeling of being “that woman” again. Causing a mess. Out of control.

I was relieved and thankful when a man nearby grabbed my tray and asked, “Where would you like to sit?” Thank you, kind man. “We’ll sit over there by the window,” I replied. Thank you, kind man, for stepping into my small mess and helping me in a practical way. Thank you for not sitting there watching me struggle. Thank you for your kindness that blessed my usually overwhelmed heart.

Since having a kid I’ve had the opportunity to experience the kindness of strangers more than I ever have in my life. Being a mom means being vulnerable in countless ways. Each day my capacity reaches its limit, sometimes at home, sometimes in public, usually both. It’s made me appreciate the small kindnesses of an opened door, a hand to pick up something dropped or a pair of feet to fetch something I needed.

Before becoming a mom I carefully guarded against needing help from anyone, let alone strangers. I guess it’s God’s sense of loving irony that the blessing of having children means that I’m in a position to receive more than I ever would have been comfortable. Ironic because I think I’m supposed to be more competent than ever but find myself facing my incompetency every day. I’m still not comfortable being “that woman”, but I am thankful for the kindness I experience because of it penetrates all the more deeply.

Lazarus Moments

by Becky Valentine, M.A.

I awoke this morning to a horrible story in the news about a man who was swallowed by a sinkhole that opened beneath his bedroom before dawn while he slept. The interview with his brother who tried to rescue him was heartbreaking. The man could not be saved. His brother recounted the scene—the screams from within the vanishing earth, and the desperate, futile clawing at the soil and debris. I can hardly think of a more terrifying way to die, or to see one die.

Instantly, my thoughts turned inward, to potential sinkholes in my heart. I have dropped through the floor a few times in life. Each time, it felt like death. And, indeed, some parts of me did die. It is truly terrifying to experience the collapse of one’s own soul. When God seems absent at best, malicious at worst, but for all intents and purposes dangerous and untrustworthy, where do we go? In whom, or in what do we trust? Are we without hope as the dead man who disappeared while sleeping? It feels like it.

And yet, at the risk of spouting clichés, these descents into darkness have the potential to be our Lazarus moments. As believers in Christ, we can know that falling into a pit is not where the story ends. Whether the sinkhole is of our own making, or one caused by someone else, Jesus does not intend to leave us in the grave.

God is, in fact, at work in several ways. He “redeems us from the pit with love and compassion” (Psalm 103:4) when our worlds collapse. And he seeks to strengthen our relationship with him by “rooting and grounding us in love “(Ephesians 3:17) so we won’t fall through the floor the next time the earth moves.

When our foundations give way beneath us, it is a frightening and disorienting experience. Often, the circumstances cause us to doubt God’s tenderness and compassion toward us. We are easily disillusioned. But where there is disillusionment, there is hope! We don’t have to claw at the soil and debris with futility forever.

In his book The Lazarus Life, Stephen W. Smith says, “disillusionment is normally used in a negative context as in being disappointed and in despair about something. But disillusionment has the potential of being a positive experience.” He goes on to say that “illusions breed false hope and false life.” The man who died this morning went to sleep last night in his bedroom with the illusion that the ground beneath him was solid. That turned out to be a false hope. Disillusionment—in this case, learning the truth about the sinkhole before he went to sleep—would have saved his life.

The first time I recall really falling through the floor, I was in my late 20’s. The illusion by which I was living included a piece of a lie that seemed very much like truth when I first believed it as a child (i.e. a sinkhole waiting to happen). The illusion was this: I want to please God more than anything in the world. Obeying God pleases him. Even if I have to die a horrible death, I will choose to follow Jesus forever (I was very dramatic as a 7-year-old when I first made this vow). This will please God and he will certainly love me. However, as I grew, I encountered a big problem: No matter how hard I try, I cannot stop sinning. That is disobedience. I am unable to please God. I am disgusted with myself. God must be disgusted too. If God is disgusted, there is no hope. I am unlovable.

That is when the sinkhole of clinical depression opened up inside me. I was swallowed by a deep and pervasive despair that felt like death. But it was a death that ultimately led to life. My understanding of the Gospel was flawed. In an effort to please God, I missed knowing him. Had I known him, I would have realized that his love was unrelenting and did not hinge on my performance. There was a massive hole in my soul, void of God’s abiding love and presence. So, my life was sucked into blackness. Yet it was in the depths, when I felt the most unlovable, that I discovered God’s love. A Lazarus moment! I did not stay in the tomb.

Since that time, I have learned to tend to my soul more compassionately and to ask God to reveal hollow places in my heart where his love has not yet touched, changed or filled me. I am learning to welcome the Spirit’s probes as well as his renovation crew (my community, the body of Christ) as God works on strengthening my foundation. It can hurt. It can be scary. But the disruption is eventually welcomed because I know now that pain and disillusionment are doorways to a deeper, richer relationship with my Heavenly Father.

The news this morning was tragic. But through it, God offered a reminder: He loves us too much to sing us to sleep with the illusion of safety when we are actually in danger. He will risk our fury by awakening us to the threat of unaddressed sin that has the power to engulf us. He will allow us to experience the death of a false hope and even disrupt our sense of security so he can tend to unhealed wounds. He will dig around, poking at shaky spots in our foundation to unearth the ways we hide from his love or live shackled by fear. And even if (when) a sinkhole opens up and we fall inside, we are not lost. God’s love extends beneath the abyss. Just like Lazarus, we are brought from death to life.

What a Father Plants in His Son

by J. Michael Blackston, M.A.

“Every moment and every event of every man’s life on earth plants something in his soul.” –Thomas Merton

The other day I took my daughter to the park.  While on the swings, I noticed the arrival of a father with his two children, a girl around 8 years old and her brother a few years younger.  The kids excitedly ran to the swing set.  It was a different story for the dad, however.  He sat on a bench mostly talking on his cell phone.  His body language clearly communicated he didn’t want to be there. I could tell the boy really wanted to play with his dad.  The more the boy asked his dad to play, the more irritable the father became.  Eventually, the boy stopped asking.

As a therapist, I naturally began to wonder about the father.  Why was he so annoyed by the boy’s desire to connect?  Maybe it had been one of those long mornings where the children’s energy level was too much to handle, and he needed a break.  I get that.  It happens some days.

But maybe it was something more.  The boy eventually caught on.  He stopped asking from his dad and went about his play, seemingly unaffected.  I wondered what would become of that boy.  In twenty years, he most likely won’t have any memory of that interaction at the park with his father.  But, I think that event–and repeated events like it–plants something in his being.

He may land in a therapist’s office as an adult.  Maybe he’ll come because the pressure at work is impeding his ability to function, and he feels a constant level of anxiety.  As he processes the pressure, he shares that he lives with a nagging sense of inadequacy and fear that he will be exposed as incompetent.  The man has foggy memories about his father but clearly remembers never feeling his dad’s approval.

I believe more men than not carry around wounds from their fathers.  We ignore the wounds or minimize them or deny them altogether.  They are disguised, but they are there nonetheless.  The disguises are often very clever.  The wounds hide themselves in the empty bottle of beer or the vow to not look at pornography again.  They hide in the CEO’s need for constant success or a husband’s critical responses to his wife.

Acknowledging this father wound to yourself and others is a difficult but necessary step.  The goal is not to blame our fathers.  Many of them did the best they knew how.  We acknowledge our wounds so that we can heal.  Also, if we don’t do this critical inner work, we are likely to hurt others, particularly those closest to us.  But, if we do, a different seed will be planted in a man’s heart–one of courage and true masculinity that will set us free to live more fully, to love more boldly.

Treasures of Darkness

by Becky Valentine, M.A.

Take a moment to think about a seed. What comes to mind? Maybe you think of how it symbolizes the birth of a great idea. You may have a memory of a toothpick-pierced avocado pit sprouting from a cup in your kitchen window. The parable of the mustard seed may pop into your mind. Or, if you just ate a poppy-seed bagel, there is a good chance you are wondering if you successfully sucked all the tiny black specks out of your teeth.

All these seeds have something in common. Each holds the promise of life. And though not all seeds must be buried in soil in order to sprout, most require the dark embrace of a hidden place for life to take root and grow.

In his book, A Timbered Choir, The Sabbath Poems, poet and author Wendell Berry writes:

          The seed is in the ground.

          Now may we rest in hope

          While darkness does its work.

I love this little verse. I think it is my favorite in this whole collection because it so beautifully describes a part of the growth process that most of us desperately try to avoid—seasons of darkness.

We like to see where we are going. We like to know what’s going on. We really like the illusion of being in control. We tend to equate darkness with evil. And beside all that, we are terribly uncomfortable with waiting – especially when we are suffering, confused or afraid.

And yet God asks us to rest in hope, to rest in Him at all times including the times when our vision is obscured. When we do, we can actually welcome the Mystery knowing that God does some of his best work in the dark.

It’s true, you know. God really does do some of his best work in the dark. In Genesis we learn that God created the endless universe from “beneath the hovering darkness.” Pearls are shaped while hidden from light. A chrysalis conceals a squirmy caterpillar as it transforms and is reborn as a completely different creature. A child is conceived and grows within a mother’s womb and waits in darkness to be fully formed.

And then there is the tomb.

So how do we “rest in hope while darkness does its work?” Followers of God have wrestled with this question throughout the ages. There is no easy answer. I certainly don’t have the answer. But that is one reason for why I am drawn to the lines above by Wendell Berry. When the apostle Paul assures us that God will be faithful to complete the good work he has begun in our hearts (Philippians 1:6), I believe one of the things he longs for us to understand is that we have LIFE within us—the Seed, who is Christ in us. It is in Christ that we find rest and hope knowing that God cannot only see when we cannot (Psalm 139:11-12), but that at times his transformative work actually requires darkness.

When we are buried in the depths of our sorrow, anger, confusion or just plain uncertainty, he invites us to look inward with hope and certainty that his Seed is in our hearts. Life will return. His resurrection power is at work—especially in the dark.

Creating Beauty: The Heart of a Woman

by Kim Trouten, M.A.

A 2006 Time magazine poll reports that women own an average of 27 pairs of shoes, and men own an average of 12 pairs.  In our house, it is 23 and 5 respectively.  Is it just a coincidence that most women have more pairs of shoes than men, or is there something to this?  I believe this small feature of our wardrobes can provide a glimpse into the magnificent glory of God that’s present in women.

I often fall asleep at night composing my outfit for the next day in my head.  I like to think of new ways to combine shirts and pants to make a new and interesting outfit.  I get a thrill when I come up with a combination that I haven’t tried before.  The shoes I wear with the outfit are an essential part.  They often provide a pop of color or help pull the outfit together.  Today, I am wearing a navy shirt with white jeans and bright yellow necklace and sandals.  I enjoyed taking a few minutes to consider how to make a plain navy shirt special.  Our desire for beauty and creativity reflects God’s creativity and the delight that He takes in his creation.  “Walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers.  They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it?” Matthew 6:28-9.  “God looked over everything he had made; it was so good, so very good!” Genesis 1:31.

Consider just a few examples of God’s concern for beauty, variety and creativity.  There are over 350,000 known species of beetles and probably millions more to be discovered (Science Daily, Dec. 26, 2007).   Millions more to be discovered!  Are you kidding me?  The sheer variety of beetles is staggering.  Besides being found on every continent except Antarctica, in every shape and size, beetles come in every color of the rainbow.  They are not the only such creatures on the planet.  Butterflies and birds, flowers and figs all come in multitudes of hues, patterns and designs.  Each one uniquely designed by God.  His care for beauty and creativity are on display.  This enormous earth that God created is not monotonous.  I suppose he could have made 5 types of trees, birds, bugs and fish to cover the earth.  But he did not.  He went far beyond that.  He went so far as to create a staggering number of insects that most people will never even see in their lifetime.  God is that creative.

In one of my favorite movies, Sleepless in Seattle, the main character Sam, played by Tom Hanks is trying to describe what made his late wife special.  He says, “She made everything beautiful.”  I believe that the desire to make things beautiful lies within the heart of every woman and is at the core of what it means for women to reflect God’s image.  Deep within every woman is the desire to unleash her creativity to make something in her world beautiful. It is her desire to make something beautiful, lovely, attractive, or enticing that reflects the character of God.  It is an attention to beauty and details that gives people pleasure.  In her heart, a woman has tremendous capacity to see what is not and imagine what might become.  Every woman is a dreamer.  Women, what are your dreams?  What do you long to create?  I bet it’s beautiful.