A Thanksgiving Fast, with Abundance

A few months ago God brought to my attention a few things He considered to be urgent: conditions in my own heart He wanted to conquer, friends in situations dire whose hearts He wanted to heal and feet He wanted to free.  I looked at Him and said "Well, yes  Lord, I agree.  Urgent.  But Lord? These are things I do not know how to do, or I would have done them.  These are things that you have got to move in if you want anything to happen, and in which you have not yet moved.  These are things that reveal to me quite clearly:  I am desperate for you.  So what do you want me to do?"


His answer was, in that gentle insistent way that He has: 
Fast and pray. 


You see, the prayers I'd already been waging were in the right direction but needed a little umph, something to signify: 
Yes. I agree with you, I see what you want to do, I know what you can do,  I am asking you, and I. Am. Desperate.  


Fast and pray, in order to say: I am asking you for You.


And so, I fasted for a day and discovered: God showed up.  In ways I didn't expect, with His Presence and His Heart, with Clarity and Peace, with Sustenance for the waiting on these hard things He's working in.  In Abundance.


In that one day I learned that when you go without, 
you must rely on the power of God to get you through: 
That in your weakness, He is Strong, and Abundantly so.


I learned that when you deny yourself in order to honor God: 
He pours Himself out.


Fast forward to Thanksgiving week, after a few months of learning this lesson of Fasting Abundance.


I find myself in a bit of a desperate situation: Dissertation Proposal Deadline Looming.  And I realize: There's no way I can go to NJ for Thanksgiving and a) maintain my mental and emotional stability and b) get this dang thing done.


And so? I fast from Thanksgiving.


Sort of.

I fast from being with my family, 

and get drenched in the abundance of their love:

My mother sends flowers with a note that 

brings tears to my eyes and shows me: Loved.

My brother sends me a text that 

brings tears to my eyes and shows me: Loved.

My sister-in-law calls me to say they all understand: Loved.

On the day of, the whole gang calls me and yells into the phone how much they miss me: Loved.

Then, on that day, I fast from people and most food groups:

[Dang dissertation.]

until I arrive at Caleb's parents house in the evening for an abundance of love, 

warmth,

good conversation,

good laughs,

and delicious food.

I stood around this table with tears in my eyes, listened to the love and well-wishes in the air, felt the welcome just wrap me up in its arms.  Abundance, all the way around.

And I realized: 

Had I not gone without, 

I would not be aware of the Abundance of the receiving.

Just pouring Himself out,

saying:

I am desperate for you too, and I will show you what I can do.

Abundantly.

Dining room take over...

...and I fear it can only get worse...

It's a mess up in here...

Welcome to my dissertation disaster zone:

A disaster on the ground; a disaster in my head.

Until today, when I had a moment of realization.  

It went like this:

Oh! I can do this!

It might feel messy, and like there are a million jumbles in my head instead of words, and a million piles of papers other people have written on my floor instead of a million pages that I've written myself flowing gracefully out of my printer--but,

 as Anne Lamott writes,

'You start with where you are, and you flail around for awhile, and if you keep doing it, every day you get closer to something good.'

I've been flailing around for a long while now, but I've been keeping on,

and--I think it is safe to say--

I am getting closer! 

The girls come to town

On Friday last, my aunt and my mother made the trek from NJ to PA, in order to spend some time with yours truly, girling it up.

Upon their arrival I whipped us up some pumpkin waffles, before I whisked them away to Kiss Me Kate, being put on by the theater department on campus.  

I wish that I had a picture of the giggling that occurred as the night wore on, but I think it's safe to say: We enjoyed the show.

The next morning found us lounging in our pj's over NJ bagels, before we headed out to take in the town. 

 First, Way Fruit Farm, for delectable lunching,

donuts and cider,

and gift shop perusing.

The rest of the afternoon was spent leisurely shopping, 

giggles included,

until we returned home for an evening in.

We had us some white chicken chili (with much delight!),

before I put them to work making something 

soooooooo delicious!

Kelly and Sara were (undoubtedly) drawn in by the little song that accompanied the eating of these sausage and bean nachos that were sooooooooo delicious!

 and chatted a bit with us, helping us make a dent in the plethora of deliciousness before they went about their business.

We spent the rest of the night munching

and movie watching, glad to have some time to giggle and be, together.

The next morning came all too quickly, and, after church, their visit ended with a spontaneously fun Wegmans-sub lunch with Heather, Ash, Kate & Sarah around my dining room table.

Thanks for the visit girls; 

your giggles are one of  my favorite things,

and it was a treat to have some girl time with you!

He is here

My brother texts me this morning at 5:36,

'You ok? heard about the riots'

My aunt calls me two hours later, as I sit in a coffee shop near where those riots occurred, to ask me the same.

I look out on the street, and all is peaceful.

But in my heart?

All is riotous.  

A million words have been written, some more useful than others.

Even more have been spoken, as we go about our lives in the midst of the sadness that sits in the air, and as we try to make sense together of the hole that has been ripped open in the facade of our 'Happy Valley'.

Our conversations end with empty stares, failed attempts to close our thoughts with something meaningful,

because in the long run?

Words cannot be found.

We are a large campus, in a small town.

Everyone feels this.

And none of us, no matter how hard we try,
knows what to do with it.

I get on a bus and notice that we are all just a little nicer to each other, a little more gentle.

I walk down the street with tears in my eyes.

I ask myself why I feel so affected, when I would never have told you that 'I bleed blue and white', have never claimed to call this place anything other than where I happen to live in this season, and have never met those whose innocence will forever be lost.  I wonder at the depth of my own grief, when it is nowhere near those deeply inside this web of disappointment, destruction, damage and deceit.

In my asking, I find the place of my heart that is weeping
'This is not the way it was supposed to be', and I realize:

I am grieving all that has been stolen here, in so many ways.

In my asking, I look for the heart of God,
to find how to respond in the face of such darkness,
and I find Him in Isaiah 40:

'Comfort, comfort my people,

says your God.'

I read on, and am reminded that God knows what has been stolen from His people, as He tells Isaiah to speak tenderly to them, to remind them that His story is bigger than the latest breaking news.

I am reminded that His story is that He 

tends his hurting flock like a shepherd,
gathers the lambs in his arms, carries them close to His heart,
and that He is--at the end of the day--victorious.

In the words of the song I can't seem to stop singing this week:

He is victory, and He is here.


In this broken, grieving valley.