Heather Holleman's Blog, page 225

All the Falling

Job Description from Jesus

I laughed and smiled with relief when a fellow Cru staff member sent me the professional “job descriptions” her Bible study wrote from an imagined perspective of Jesus, rooted in scripture.

Jesus is seeking surrendered person to rest in Him and enjoy Him. Position requires cooperation with the Holy Spirit to do the work for the day. Must love Bible. Singing on key not required. 

I think of performance all day long, even for God, even after learning I’m seated with Christ and abiding with Him to produce fruit. But what if my job description from God is rest, worship, enjoyment, and surrender? What if my job is getting out of the way so the Holy Spirit can speak and work?

Dappled Things

Low Tide in Okinawa

My friend in Okinawa posted a picture of low tide by the Sunabe Sea Wall. She says that she loves low tide because of what it reveals; the departing water leaves behind coral, shells, and sea glass too beautiful to even describe.

I immediately think of life’s more stark times: I think about times in my life that feel parched, dehydrated, a little empty–like the nourishing waters of a high tide have left, stranding me in an evaporating pool. But look what the empty times reveal! What beauty, what marvelous treasures of intimacy with God and wisdom that stay hidden unless the water recedes!

When You Don’t Try to Relate

Today I felt supremely frumpy and old-fashioned in my loafers, cardigan, and twisted up hair; I’m dressed exactly how I looked in the 90’s.

So I’m sitting in my office on campus, and it’s the kind of day when I feel so much older than my students. I’ve become increasingly aware of their particular expressions, music, and kinds of social interactions. (The older I grow, the younger they seem. I ask questions about shows they watch, technology they use, and words they say, and we laugh together when I appear out of touch).

It’s happening. I’m old.

Example: I had a student explain to me, with perfect clarity, the different tones of K (no period), Okay, K!, Okaaaay, and K. (with a period, apparently, it’s angry) in a text message. They all mean different things.

This predicament used to bother me greatly. I feared the very person I’m becoming: old, outdated, irrelevant.

But what is this? Students stream in for office hours, asking for advice about graduate school applications, papers for class, and even relationships. They sit and listen as I straighten my knee-high nylons and adjust my scarf (it’s that bad!), smoothing back a few grey hairs.

A spark flares in my heart. They’re here, listening. They’re here. Two students actually hug me after I talk to them. Of course, they had to maneuver beyond my steeping tea and my leftover chicken Alfredo that I packed in a responsible lunch sack. They had to endure a yawn because I felt like I needed a nap.

But they’re here.

I remember seeking the wisdom of elders precisely because they sat outside of my world. I remember wanting to spend time with older people because they offered an escape from the pressures of life, and they created a kind of breathing room by their slower, archaic ways.

So when students ask for advice, it’s because I don’t relate, not because I do.

In Praise of Morning Traffic

This morning, I drive across town to drop my oldest daughter, who normally takes the bus, off at high school. As we move through traffic in the crisp autumn air, we note the rising sun turning the tips of the trees golden. We note all the morning activity: crossing guards gesturing with authoritative hands, school bus drivers using their stop sign to halt drivers so small children can board their bus to elementary school, families hauling out garbage cans to the curb, morning joggers puffing out soft clouds of frozen breath, students walking briskly about with their backpacks secured, and construction workers bringing their machines to life.

“It’s just like Richard Scarry’s Busytown,” I laugh. “Do you remember Busytown?”

I find myself smiling at all the good citizens of our town. Here we are, working together, obeying traffic laws, living out our lives with the kind of togetherness that waits patiently as the smallest child boards his school bus for what must be kindergarten. It’s a good town. It’s a good life.

At the Table

I’ve been thinking more deeply about Ephesians 2:6 and being seated with Christ. Something I didn’t write about in Seated with Christ is the joy of the banquet and how much we read in scripture about the value of food and feasting together at the table.

I recently ordered the book, The Lifegiving Table, by Sally Clarkson, and it has reinvigorated my love of feasting with family and friends as a representation of something eternal, heavenly, and valued by God.

So I set out the wedding crystal that I never use. I arrange the happy bowls of crisp salad, warm rolls, and a pan of spinach lasagna. We gather together, share stories, and enjoy feasting. It’s a shadow of what’s to come. This feasting brings so much joy.

And we’ll do it again tonight.

Back to Autumn Spices on the Stove

I love warming the kitchen with a simmering pot of spices on the stove. The whole house smells of cinnamon, cloves, and apples.

To make your own simmering spices, fill a pot on the stove with water and add the following: sliced apples, sliced orange (peel on), two cinnamon sticks, a teaspoon of clove, pumpkin pie spice, and allspice. Bring to a boil and then turn to lowest setting to simmer for an hour or two. You’ll humidify your kitchen in the cold of late autumn and winter, and you’ll provide the best smelling welcome to weary family returning from school and work.

While we don’t drink this concoction, you can find similar recipes for mulled cider like this one: Mulled Apple Cider. 

Enjoy smelling the mulled spices and, if you wish, adding them to apple cider for a delicious warm beverage.

 

A Date

Last night, my husband and I wandered around downtown in the crisp autumn evening air. With 25 minutes before the start of the high school homecoming football game, we left one daughter with the marching band and another with her friends by the stadium.

We considered having a little snack of a gourmet hot dog, and we tasted some street-side samples of “gelato hot chocolate” offered by cheerful college girls outside of the hot dog restaurant. I pulled off my maroon knitted mittens to feel the warmth of the cup. While we waited for our hot dogs, we played speed scrabble with the tiles housed in little glass jars at each table. There we sat, playing scrabble, eating hot dogs, and dreaming of more gelato hot chocolate. It felt like the old days of dating in Ann Arbor, nearly 18 years ago.

And it was fun.

 

A Pressing On. A Bringing Through.

I read Psalm 66 and pause at verse 12: “We went through fire and water, but you brought us to a place of abundance.” For nearly thirty years, I’ve read that psalm figuratively, as if fire and water were symbols of any kind of hardship. But today, I think about the literal fire and water so many families have endured. I think of the destruction of property and homes in the California fires and those still reeling from the floodwaters of hurricanes.

I think of the despair. I think of the disorientation of having to start living from scratch.

I consider Isaiah 42 and the promise of God’s nearness in both flood and fire. I consider how, even in the midst of these things, God declares how precious we are, how He will rescue and deliver. One day–maybe soon, maybe in eternity–He brings us to a place of abundance. We press on with Jesus. We let Him bring us through.