Why I am so thankful I don't live in Regency England

     This woman has deceived a plethora of young ladies (including, at times, myself) into pinning after the Regency Era.  Such manners!  Such conversation!  Such lovely architecture, countryside, and top hats!  

     Ha.  No thank you, Jane Austen.  House/pet-sitting has taught me one thing: being stuck inside all day with no greater occupation than spoon-feeding cats and crocheting baby blankets is driving me MAD.  How, how did women spend their entire LIVES like this?!  No wonder so many were sent to insane asylums.  At least there's no yellow wallpaper in the house...

     But there are always things to be thankful for:

1. a "job"

2. no deadline stress

3. Gator Pop Tarts!!

Just LOOK at them!  What's not to love?!?

     And being trapped in a foreign house all day has allowed me MUCH time to think.  And, of course, I've been thinking about Ukraine.

     When I came back this summer, I thought I'd only stay long enough to prepare for something long term in Ukraine.  Well, God simply said, "no."  Not yet, at least.  

     As anyone who knows me could guess, I was NOT okay with this.  Why would God give me a passion for this country, this people, these orphans, and not allow me to go back?  I wasn't looking for a fun year long fling; I was ready to invest my LIFE there...

     And maybe that's still in my future.  I continue to hope, but God has opened my eyes to needs HERE.  I'm in the States at this particular moment for a reason and I don't want to miss it by looking to the future.  Chambers -yet again- convicted me:

    "We have to maintain our soul open to the fact of God's creative purpose, and not muddle it with our own intentions.  If we do, God will have to crush our intentions on one side however much it may hurt.  The purpose for which the missionary is created is that he may be God's servant, one in whom God is glorified."

     He crushed my intentions alright.  but there's sweetness in the crushing.  I'm beginning to see broken lives all around me, not just in Ukraine.  The Lord is my first love, not ministry.  I can give Him my desires and passion for Ukraine because He gave them to me in the first place.  I can "dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness," trusting He will give me the desires of my heart as I delight in Him.

     It's amazing.  Before Ukraine I lacked empathy and passion for the broken people in my community.  God sent me all the way to Ukraine, over and over again, to mold my heart into His, to teach me love and compassion and zeal.  He really is after my heart.... the God of the universe intimately and furiously pursues me and forms me into His likeness.  I am totally still a mess, but I'm humbled as I realize what God has done and is doing.

     Was the whole purpose of Ukraine in my life to break my heart for what breaks His so that I could come home and minister to broken people here?  

     I hope not.  But even if it was, it's enough.

Game Day

         Confession: I don't really love football.  I barely know anything about the game.  But, I LOVE the Gators-  

I was born in Gainesville.  

My Dad's a Gator.  

My uncle's a Gator.  

My brother's a Gator.

My grandfather has season game tickets.  

The Swap is the only place I've ever seen live football.  

      But this year, every time the Gators take the field, I think of Uncle Dougie.  Uncle Dougie didn't go to UF, but I don't think a more dedicated fan ever shouted "CHOMP 'EM!"  Every year or so, Uncle Dougie wore a different Gator hat, retiring last year's hat to a nail on the Lil' Swamp's wall.  Uncle Dougie’s Lil' Swamp (also called the Gator Shed) held more Gator paraphernalia than any place in Gainesville excepting Ben Hill Griffin Stadium itself!  The hand-built shed was filled with newspaper clippings, stadium seats, autographed pictures and footballs, jerseys, T-shirts, handmade signs, stuffed animals, orange and blue painted everything, soda cans, game cups, and rafters full of baseball caps.

      And he was Mr. Positive.  In the middle of the Gator’s worst game ever of their worst season ever, Uncle Dougie still found something positive to say about the players, the coach, or -if all else failed- next season.

      Uncle Doug's life and "positive" weren't always compatible.  Life was rough.  But you never would have guessed if you met him.  To me, he was my Easter egg hunting buddy, wrestling buddy, the person super enthusiastic about any new "talent" I developed, and the person who called me beautiful even when I knew I wasn't.

      He smiled a lot.  Smoked even more (though he tried to hide it from us "kids" for years by saying he was just going out on the porch).  He loved history and old bottles, and his little town, Lacrosse.  He even thought of running for mayor.  He was a good neighbor.  He wasn't perfect, but for a man with that much pain in his life, it's amazing how much he loved people.

      I’ll never forget standing in his front yard with him and my family when his neighbor drove by and paused for a chat.  

      “These your people?”  The neighbor asked Doug, nodding his head toward us from his red pick-up.

      “They sure are!” Uncle Doug beamed.

      “Well, if you’re Doug’s people, you’re good people.”

      I thought of Proverbs, “a good name is to be more desired than great wealth.”

    

      Uncle Doug died of liver cancer 5 months ago.  During his short battle, he gave his life to Jesus.  My dad told me (right after I got a speeding ticket) as I drove up to Shands Hospital in Gainesville.  I wanted to believe it, but doubt overwhelmed me.  Many people say things they don’t mean when they’re on their death bed.  Maybe he was just scared, or maybe he just pretended to give his heart to Jesus because he knew that’s what we wanted.  Lord, please, help me to really know.

        The first words I heard Uncle Doug say when I reached his room and gave his weak body a hug were, “Hey Beautiful.  Thank you, Jesus, for bringing my beautiful niece to see me.”

       I knew.

      

       Now Jesus is reaping part of the reward He paid for on the cross.  Uncle Doug is fully restored to Him. 

       And some of Uncle Doug’s ashes remain on Ben Hill Griffin Field.

    

Go Gators.

I swear I'm not a feminist....

but really, Irene Adler in Steven Moffat's Sherlock episode, "A Scandal in Belgravia," encompasses everything grotesque in patriarchal societies.
I'm serious.

At the beginning of the episode, Moriarty threatens Adler, "If you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich.  If not, I'll make you into shoes."
When Moriarty threatens Holmes at the end of the previous episode, he says, "If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you.  I will burn the heart out of you."
What do we have here?  Objectification.  Man = burned.  Woman = turned into an object- shoes.  What an appropriate way to introduce Irene Adler.

If one more person says she's a complex, independent, realistic character, heads will roll.  And Sherlock won't be there with a scimitar to save them.

Beyond the stereotypical bad-ass-tamed-into-damsel-in-distress, there's something deeper, and far more dangerous, communicated through Adler's character.  I can forgive stereotypes, they're created from an element of truth.  But Adler's character expresses an absolute fallacy about women, a fallacy that has blinded so many men and women in our culture with devastating results.  

Women gain agency through their sexuality.

The liberated woman, right?  Women are free to use sex as a power play, and Adler certainly does. She uses her sexuality to gain the upper hand over men, and the world believes this empowers her.

No woman can/does actually use sex as a power tool.  Real women get burned.  No woman can use her body as a tool like that and not be extremely hurt, jaded, and violated to the core of her being- physically and emotionally.  It makes no real difference if she's being violated by someone else or if she's violating herself.  It's all a facade.  Women objectify themselves as sex symbols because it gives them a false sense of control.  Either violate yourself or be violated.  It really isn't much of a choice.   

Moffat portrays Adler as the ultimate woman, "The Woman," literally.  She's man's ideal: a sex symbol with a brain, "brainy is the new sexy," who knows "what men like," and appears to like giving it to them.  It's not enough for her to be sexually powerful (that can be too intimidating), she also has to want Sherlock emotionally.  He's her weakness.  And in the end, she becomes the tame damsel in distress who is literally saved by her mighty, sword-wielding knight.

Sure we live in a gender equal society where men no longer objectify women.  They don't need to, we've taught women to objectify themselves.

Here's another fabulous article from The Guardian on this subject:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/jan/03/sherlock-sexist-steven-moffat

Hard to love

So it's a bit theologically unsound, but I'm pretty sure Lee Brice's song "Hard to Love" is actually about Jesus and me.
Just replace Lee with me
and the girl with Jesus.

It's pathetic, but I have the hardest time accepting the fact that God's love for me is utterly unmerited.  Either He loves me and has good reason to because I am awesome, or He realizes I'm a wreck and only loves me out of obligation to His goodness- so says my silly head.

Fact 1: I CANNOT earn God's love
Fact 2: but it's still authentic and transcends unfathomable depths.

Somehow, fact 1 and fact 2 are both true.
I just don't get it.


But I love that You love me good.

Beloved

He loves me.
It's incredible.

He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.

I've been beating on His chest for weeks now, bitter, angry, accusing Him of cruelty, blaming Him for my broken heart.  Didn't I ask Him to break my heart for what breaks His?
It didn't matter.
All I could see and know and feel and taste was suffering.  In the brokenness of my own heart I refused to see how greatly suffering pained Him.  His heart broke first.
As I struggle with trusting Him, He gently pulls me closer and closer into Him, letting me struggle, letting me hurt Him.
Oh, what kind of love is like this?
He looks at me, the one who should be named Condemned, and He calls me Redeemed.
I deserve wrath.
He gives me love.
.....

If the Titanic was made to sink
then so was my heart
for I made sure it was [{(impenetrable)}]...
So what then?
What good is a broken / heart to You?
Can you even hear my heart from {there}?

And like a father assuring his son to come home,
“Oh my son, it’s enough. 
It’s enough.”

So who am I to accept this grace that just falls like rain?
‘Cause we all know I chose to lay my head in this desert.
But like a fish out of water,
we only know then what it means to be --parched--.
So if Christ is alive,
the love,
and the groom
then take heed my friends
for chivalry is not dead! 
For I know no other lover who would have met me
[here in this place].

So I awake and I rise from my bed of complacency,
"Oh, my God, I’ve been sleeping with a corpse!
Oh, and these bed sores they still rest in my bones.
Oh, how I’ve made a beautiful dance with this cadaver,
but my audience is appalled.

Oh, how strong these tendons!
How they desperately need to ~rip~ from this ancient Adam.
So light up the sky
and set me a flame!
Burn this bone and tissue
for I no longer want to be [[entangled]] in this sinew
that ///hinders/// my reach
towards You
                                                   -"Tendons" by Bellarive


"Behold, it was for my welfare
    that I had great bitterness;
but in love you have delivered my life
    from the pit of destruction,
for you have cast all my sins
    behind your back."      Isaiah 38:17

“Come, let us return to the Lord;
    for He has torn us, that He may heal us;
    He has struck us down, and He will bind us up.
² After two days He will revive us;
    on the third day He will raise us up,
    that we may live before Him.
³ Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord;
    His going out is sure as the dawn;
He will come to us as the showers,
    as the spring rains that water the earth.”    Hosea 6:1-3

Restless and Worn

I know what you're probably thinking, "Abi finally blogged about Ukraine!"
nope.
Even I thought I was going to blog about Ukraine. I sat on the couch with my lap top, opened a new blog post..... and nope.
sorry.
It's not happening.
 I went to the east coast with Comrade for sunrise and soul-soothing in the ocean. But it wasn't enough. I was restless.
 I wanted to swim and swim and swim and swim until my heart gave out and my body succumbed to the waves. I needed so much space that my eyes couldn't rest on anything but an eternally blue horizon. I needed a boat.
Need is a relative term.
 All I really need is Christ. But a boat would've been nice.
 I will blog about Ukraine eventually, I'm just having trouble getting the words right. In the meantime, 10th Ave's words will have to explain what mine can't.

I'm tired 
 I'm worn 
 My heart is heavy 
 From the work it takes to keep on breathing 
 I've made mistakes 
 I've let my hope fail 
 My soul feels crushed 
 By the weight of this world 
 And I know that you can give me rest 
 So I cry out with all that I have left 
 Let me see redemption win 
 Let me know the struggle ends 
 That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn 
 I want to know a song can rise 
 From the ashes of a broken life 
 And all that's dead inside can be reborn 
 Cause I'm worn 
 I know I need To lift my eyes up 
 But I'm too week 
 Life just won't let up 
 And I know that You can give me rest 
 So I cry out with all that I have left 
 Let me see redemption win 
 Let me know the struggle ends 
 That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn 
 I want to know a song can rise 
 From the ashes of a broken life 
 And all that's dead inside can be reborn 
 Cause I'm worn And my prayers are wearing thin 
 I'm worn even before the day begins 
 I'm worn I've lost my will to fight 
 I'm worn so heaven come and flood my eyes 
 Let me see redemption win 
 Let me know the struggle ends 
 That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn 
 I want to know a song can rise 
 From the ashes of a broken life 
 And all that's dead inside can be reborn 
 Yes all that's dead inside will be reborn 
 Though I'm worn 
 Yeah I'm worn

Follow me?

I'm going back to Ukraine!  Which means I won't post anything here for the next few weeks, but you can follow my Ukraine journeys at http://restoreukraine.blogspot.com/ if you want to know what I'm up to!