thresh·old

thresh·old  noun \ˈthresh-ˌhōld, ˈthre-ˌshōld\

1:  the plank, stone, or piece of timber that lies under a door :  sill

2a :  gate, door;

b (1) :  end, boundary; specifically :  the end of a runway (2) :  the place or point of entering or beginning :  outset

3a :  the point at which a physiological or psychological effect begins to be produced

b :  a level, point, or value above which something is true or will take place and below which it is not or will not 

What does the word ‘threshold’ mean?

I was asked this question recently.  The woman was fluent in English, yet this word was new to her.  Understandably so.  I struggled to give an adequate definition.  I kept landing on the phrase “threshold of pain” (3. A: the point at which a physiological or psychological effect begins to be produced).  She asked because we both had walked through an art installation called…I’m sure you’ve guessed, “Threshold.”  It was recently installed at the retreat center I visited this past month.  It’s hard to describe the piece, so I’ll just post the photo for you to see.

The piece is constructed with Texas limestone and has three separate entrances (the piece was constructed using multiples of 3).  The entire piece plays on round shapes, evoking a maternal, womb-like feel at moments.  Its floor itself is also made of stone, staying true to the name threshold (1:  the plank, stone, or piece of timber that lies under a door), implying that the skies are a sort of door.

For me, the standout part of this installation was the tower.  To enter into the tower, one must bow to pass through the threshold (2.a: gate, door).  It is a humbling move to awkwardly bend the body to enter.  It was a tall, tiny space, yet I immediately felt safe, secure and held.  What a contrast to the tube of an MRI machine, which I found to be scary and confining.  I knew I had to return later when I could be there alone.  That afternoon I walked back and had a sacred moment there. The acoustics invited a song, so I softly sang “For the Beauty of the Earth.”  And then I just stood there.  Safe and at peace.  

Lord of all to thee we raise, this our hymn of grateful praise!

Lately, I’ve had the sense that God is moving and preparing me for changes.  I don’t know what those changes will be, but as I described it recently, I can feel his moves and bumps indicating that something is happening.  I realize how much I am at the threshold (2b : end, boundary; the place or point of entering or beginning) of something new.  

So, what does threshold mean for me?  It means both an ending and a beginning.  Yet, it also means I am surrounded and held in a set structure, the structure of a threshold.  The true threshold.  God my Father.

Hammocked

I’m emerging from a busy season at work.  Probably the busiest season I’ve ever experienced there.  And there was a moment when I realized that it was all too much.  I kept saying “I’m working myself to death,” which is absolutely an overstatement.  Yet, I also knew that I had hit the bottom of my well. 

As I finished this busy season I was able to step immediately into vacation.  I had a couple of days at home before leaving for Austin, Texas.  I enjoyed exploring a new city and discovering what made it tick.  My time and my main purpose in Texas though was to visit a retreat center out in a little town called Leakey.  It took me about 3 hours to drive there from Austin.  However, my rental car had satellite radio and I quickly found the Broadway station.  So yeah, I was singing my little heart out the entire way. 

As I entered the property I left paved roads for dusty, rocky paths.  I kept driving down further and further, eventually hitting the shallowest river I’ve ever seen.  “Yes, you drive across the river” the sign exclaimed to my right.  So, for a mile I slowly drove in the middle of a river.  This drive felt like part of the transition into retreat.  It was an official leaving the normal world for a new place.  No cell reception, radio turned off.  Just me, the car, and God. 

I arrived to the retreat center, to a place that I still struggle to give words to.  Words that adequately describe this piece of beauty.  For me, being at Laity Lodge was catching the tiniest glimpse of heaven.  In my journal I wrote that it was “Rivendell in reality.” 

I had arrived early, so I just walked around the property.  Fairly early on, I discovered a hammock.  When I was 10 my dad bought a hammock and I remember lying out in the back yard many an evening.  I specifically remember learning my lines for a play I was in.  I can’t completely explain why, but the hammock feels so safe for me and brings up such comforting memories.  Lying in one was like being a child again.  I floated on the air, gently rocking back and forth, cupped by the ropey cradle that held me. 

I suppose the image of being cradled in a hammock perfectly captures this vacation for me.  God held me as I rested, pondered, and discerned.  I do come back feeling refreshed, but also reminded that I cannot say yes to everything.  I cannot do all that is in my heart all at once.  Saying no is hard, but I know that I am not called to work myself to death.  Yet, I am called to work.  As I sit in this tension, I feel a little more secure that God cradles me in the tension.  That this puzzle is not puzzling to him. 

I couldn’t find words to describe Laity Lodge, so instead wrote on my experience of seeing this place:

Amen.

Amen to this place.

Amen to this place of Idyllic beauty.

I disrupt it with my clumsy stomps.

More fitting would be the composed sailing of an elf.

They would walk as if gently floating on water.

Me?  I stomp liltingly. 

Most inelegantly.

But perhaps such gloriousness is not meant to be left untouched.   

What is beauty, but to be beheld.

Enjoyed.

Directed

Towards he who made…

Ripples of heaven.

Amen.

Vacation Over

Hi All,

But if I did wear a hat, perhaps it would be this one.

I took a bit of a vacation from posting the last couple of weeks, while I was in fact on vacation.  I'm back now and have my writing hat on...metaphorically speaking.  I do not have an odd hat that I compulsively wear in order to get my writing juices flowing.  Although, at one point in "Little Women" Jo is mentioned to have a hat that she wears when her genius burns.


All that to say, I'm back.  New posts are coming your way Tuesday and Thursday this week.

Happy Reading!

Jen

Say My Name

Yup, I’ve gotten to the phase in online dating when the site just starts throwing out random folks at me.  You said you wanted a man between 28 and 38?  Well, how about this 25 year old (note: I’m 32 and those kind of age gaps are only socially acceptable when the genders are swapped – don’t get me started).  100 mile radius?  How about a coal miner from South Dakota?  And did I mention that some of these random guys have really odd names?  And not just names tied into other cultures.  I mean, just plain odd names. 

Windermere

Quadnatius

Tiberias

(Note: These are not actual names, but plays on names I have come across.)

I don’t mean to judge a person based on a name, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if these names are for real.  Really?  Your parents named you that?  Is this a fake profile?  I don’t know if I can take you seriously.  The strange thing is, these weird names didn’t start popping up until recently.  As if, when eHarmony gets to the bottom of the barrel, they start pulling out the guys with strange names.

I realize I’m an odd bird and I may be a challenging person to find matches for.  But I think I’d prefer eHarmony just to tell me that, instead of their charade of odd matches.  It’s like when a magician draws your attention so you miss the trickery that’s actually taking place.  Don’t distract me, just tell me the truth. \

So readers, what’s your experience with unusual matches?

Slamming into a Wall

Last Thursday I hit my wall.  You know.  The Wall.  The wall you hit when you just can’t keep going on at your current pace.  The wall that unleashes all your emotions, tears, and exhaustion like an avalanche.  Marathon runners talk about this wall they hit towards the end of a race.  Then their legs give out and they do a crazy dance of delirium as they collapse.  I hate running, so I don’t fully get this metaphor, but I do know the wall that you hit when life feels crazy.  I hit the wall while on the phone with my friend.  I was trying to listen and be present with what she was saying.  Then she asked what I thought and I stopped.  I had no idea what I thought.  All I knew was that I felt tired, frustrated, guilty for not tracking with my friend, and on the verge of tears.  Hello wall. 

I’m in the midst of a busy season at work.  And while it feels as though everything else in my life has been put on hold, I realize how much my life refuses to cooperate.  I can try to be streamlined, efficient, and on-task (blech, I hate these words).  Yet, that can only last for so long before I hit the wall.

I cried a lot that day.  And since I don’t know how to cry daintily, it was a messy cry (aren’t they all).  Let me tell you, that is not a fun time to have your Kleenex run out.  TP suffices, but it just doesn’t have that soft, cushiony feeling on your nose.  I cried with my friend.  I cried by myself.  I just cried.  I stopped eventually and watched some episodes of 30 Rock (season 7 just arrived on Netflix instant), staying in bed the rest of the night.  Plus, my arm hurt from getting a flu shot that day, so there was no chance I was recovering from all of that (mostly from aforementioned wall).      

A couple of days later I returned to the tears from Thursday and found myself…grateful.  Strange, huh?  I was grateful because this avalanche of emotions didn’t come out of nothing.  They may have been amplified, but they came from true feelings in my heart.  I’m not great at acknowledging what I feel in the moment.  So, my emotions can get back logged at times.  OK, a lot of the time.  But I don’t go as long as I used to without acknowledging where I am.  I wasn’t aware of how tired and frustrated I was feeling about life.  It took this wall to awaken me back to what was truly going on inside of me.  These feelings have brought me to a place of seeking with God.

What is my next step?

Do I continue on as is or does something need to shift?

Why is it so hard for me to trust you when I’ve hit my wall?

And the big one of late: How long oh Lord?

These questions have been on my mind lately and I seem to keep coming back to them.  I don’t have any answers, but I think these questions tie into what I feel.  These questions are part of my emotional response, my prayer to God.  I can try to ignore what I feel, but when I allow my feelings a place at the table, I can sit in God’s lap, look up into his eyes, and ask.  

Deal Breaker

Ok, so this was from a previous post, but it's just as true today as it was back then.

Last night I was looking at my matches and I started listing the things that elicit automatic no's from me, or as Liz Lemon would call it, a Dealbreaker. Enjoy!

Jen's Automatic Shut it Downs:

-Repeated grammatical mistakes (i.e. "Your" instead of "You're"). I'm not expecting perfect grammar and I realize we all have the occasional typo, but I can only overlook so much. I'm not perfect. Or if you list your profession as a surgeon, but misspell the word surgeon. Ugh.

-Blurry photo - and that's the only photo. In this age of digital technology, how hard is it to take another photo?

-Mentioning a Proverbs 31 woman. This one ticks me off. It feels like a cop out. Instead of listing what you are actually looking for in a woman, you just point to a chapter that paints the picture of a perfect woman. I get anxious when I read Proverbs 31. When I see a guy list that, I feel as though he's looking for a woman to do everything for him. And I get tired.

-Picture with a girl obviously cropped out of the photo. Just choose another photo. Are you trying to tell me that you're desirable? Instead, you look like a player.

-Makes fun of Harry Potter. Ridikulous! I heart Harry Potter, and while it's not a requirement for the guy I date to appreciate it, I don't like it when you look down on the book/movie.

-Writing in all caps. STOP SHOUTING AT ME!

-Wearing a cowboy hat in profile picture: This one’s specific to me.  I just don’t dig that culture. 

-I’m an open book.  And then the guy writes two vague sentences in his description.  Sorry, no, you’re not at “open book”.  That term means you actually communicate something about yourself. What's you're doing is called "phoning it in."

This list is not exhaustive. 

So, what makes you want to Shut it Down?

Feministly feminine?

I hate the term “feminist”.  I mean, what does that even mean?  Yes, I realize there is a definition of this

word, but I’m frustrated about the varied ways in which we use the word.  It can be praise or defamation, depending on the context.  I mean, I could be seen as a “raging femi-nazi” by one person, and then viewed as an “strong, proud woman” by another.  And the aspects that make one a “feminist” tie in to the person’s beliefs on femininity (which vary greatly, person to person). 

For this past year one of the issues I’ve had emerging clarity on is my being a strong woman.  I’ve suspected it for years, but I’ve always danced back and forth on the line of accepting this aspect of myself.  Some times I’ve responded by trying to deny it, even supporting unequal pay for women (gasp!).  And other times I’ve shouted my strong views to anyone with ears.  Lately, I’ve felt more settled in this part of myself.  I still am learning what this means, but I don’t feel the shame that I used to experience.  I also feel a deep interest in what it means to be a woman called to working in the church. 

Two interesting articles came to my attention this week, which peaked this interest of mine.  While they varied greatly, both mentioned the place of women in our theology.  The first comes from the recent (and first)interview with Pope Francis.  A.  You need to read this article.  It’s a long read, but absolutely worth it (in my humble opinion).  B. Pope Francis briefly mentions women in the church, identifying the lack of theology about women.  Now, I don’t want to read this interview with rose-colored glasses, ignoring the potentially political nature of his comments.  However, I appreciated that, at least to some extent, this is an issue he is considering.  I especially valued his comment on how women are a vital part of the church: 

Women are asking deep questions that must be addressed. The church cannot be herself without the woman and her role. The woman is essential for the church.

The other article was from Her-meunetics, one of my favorite blogs right now.  In this cleverly titled piece (The Christian “F” Word), the author explores the ideas of both men and women being seen equally in the eyes of God.  Both of these articles encouraged me.  It’s nice to feel that I’m not alone as I consider the implications of being a strong woman and how that ties into my faith.

Along my journey this year, two other written works have been immensely helpful for me.  The first is an article by Amy Simpson for the Qideas blog. In the article, Simpson took the economic principle of scarcity and competition and overlaid that onto church dynamics with women.  In scarcity, we are drawn to compete, whether it is for business, relationships or influence.  In the midst of the article, Simpson identifies the turning point for women:

So what happens when, instead, women stop focusing on scarcity, recognize their own abundance, decide to stop competing, and share? They find a kind of power they never would have otherwise: solidarity.

This is something I hope and pray for (solidarity amongst women), yet I know I so often fall prey to responding out of my scarcity.  My mom has continued to encourage me in my frustrations of scarcity, reminding me that God is the one who holds the ultimate power.  He can move barriers that humans cannot. 

The other helpful work is the book “A Year of Biblical Womanhood,” by Rachel Held Evans.  I must be honest.  I was completely skeptical of this book when it first came out.  I mean, the whole “literally living the Bible” thing has been done before.  This is old news.  However, upon the recommendation of a friend, I picked up the book.  Wow!  I loved the way Evans writes competently about her subject matter, while at the same time, learning humility along the way.  It’s a beautiful picture of wrestling through an idea with God and the book perfectly captures the experience.  I’m still chewing on the implications of this book in my life, but I actually think it was one of the things that really unlocked my freedom in femininity in a way I’ve not experienced before.

As for myself, I’ve come back to the creation account in Genesis throughout the year, specifically Genesis 1:27 (ESV): 

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.

Both men and women are created out of the image of God.  We each reflect different aspects of God, men and women.  If this is true, then wouldn’t we want both men and women to play a significant role in the life of the church?  This question has been what I’ve continued to return to.  We miss so much when women are excluded.  We miss so much when men are excluded.  What would it look like to welcome both?