Memorable Treasures

What do you do when your life is going crazy in Pennsylvania, but there is a bridal shower in New Jersey for a good old friend on the same day that your brother--also in New Jersey--is having his 30th birthday party ?

You go to New Jersey.

Hence, last Saturday morning
I jumped in my car for a reunion with the road.

More importantly, 

a reunion with Karen, 

[my Princeton-years roommate]

whom I rarely get--but love--to see.

I joined with a crowd of her family and friends, 

as we showered Karen with treasures 

[such as these pots]-- 

tokens of our love and well-wishes 

in this memorable season of her life, 

because of the treasure that she is to us.

Sadly, however, I could not stay long! 

Two hours up the New Jersey Turnpike awaited my family,

gathered together to celebrate

our Keith.

Now, our Keith has a certain obsession with a certain game.  And, since it was the 30th anniversary of his birth, it was decided by our matriarchal decision maker that this particular gathering should be particularly memorable.

Hence, a large portion of the friends and family present 

found themselves playing a long [long] round of:

Monopoly,

in what turned out to be a Monopoly themed 

[and certainly memorable] event.

For evidence, I give you:

The Boardwalk food.

[Appetizers: Bags of popcorn, soft pretzels, nachos & cheese.

Main Course: Sausage & Pepper sandwiches, chili dogs, french fries, onion rings.]

The table decorations.

The cake.

[Serving the ulterior motive of apologizing
for the many years of heart cakes that
this Valentine's Baby has been subjected to ...]

And then?

The boy himself.

I don't know who won the treasures in that [long] game I mentioned,

[The benefit to going to a bridal shower first and walking in late? 

You miss the choosing of the players!]

but there is nothing more rewarding than celebrating memorable events in the lives of the people who fill your heart with the treasure of themselves.

A weekend to remember;

memories to treasure.

Even still...

...I miss...

...pink peppermints hidden in pockets
...me, hidden by his side, my arm through his, my head on his shoulder
...the laugh that began deep inside and inevitably ended with a snort and a shake of his head
...the reverence of prayer filled with Thy's and Thou's and the rolling of r's
...fighting with my brothers to sit next to him at Sunday dinner
...hands that swallowed mine, no matter how grown I'd gotten to be
...eyes full of absolute and unquestioned love
...him.

Arthur Knyfd, d. January 23, 2009
http://laurenkooistra.blogspot.com/2010/01/but-moment.html

Covenantal Living

Recently I found myself at the wedding ceremony of some lovely friends.  I sat in the congregation, unsuspecting, reflecting on the loveliness of the couple and the miracle that is marriage, when suddenly the word

"covenant"

leapt off the tongue of the minister and came catapulting through the air toward me, lodging itself--large, and etched in silver--on the frontal cortex of my brain.  I thought:

Buy a book.  You need to understand this.

So, buy a book I did.

Fast forward a few months to this past weekend, which found me in nyc with Lisa and Geoff for our yearly installment of "Lauren Lisa and Geoff Get Together and Hash Out Life".  This installment was similar to others: food, drink, hashing out life, food, movie, food, jazz at Dizzy's Club. Food.

[Yes, this statement--

uttered pretty early on in the weekend by a key member of the group--

encapsulates our time together: 

"I love food."  

Enough said.]

But. The real point of HOL? 

Be together.

Live life together.

Engage in real, deep, longterm relationship.

Together.

Now, you may be wondering what these two seemingly separate topics--covenant and the real relationship emphasized in HOL--have to do with each other. You may be wondering where I'm going, and if you are, I do not blame you.  I just ask you: 

Trust me, and walk with me for a moment.

Walk with me on the path that I have been walking over this past year, the path of learning:  

Walking in real relationship is difficult,

because we are all just walking wounded.

I have come to learn that with our wounds, we wound those around us, in the places that are often the most raw.

We hurt each other, and hurt leads to bells and whistles screaming in our heads "unsafe! get out!".

We try to protect our own hearts.  We hide.

We are human.  It is bound to happen.

But.

Speaking of being bound, did you know that a covenant is binding?

I found this out on Sunday morning when I walked into L & G's church to discover that the sermon topic for the day was--you guessed it--

covenant.

[Of course it was on covenant. I have walked with God long enough now to never be surprised by these seeming coincidences.]

And I learned: 

A covenant is a binding contract between two parties.  It says "I will do this and you will do that".

"But!," my little scrambling mind screams, 

"problem!"

If I am in covenant with you, I will let you down.  I will fail you.  I cannot hold up my side.

And here is where we intersect with another pathway I have been walking this year:

The pathway of learning to live in Grace.  

Abundant, extravagant, makes-no-sense kind of grace. 

The kind of grace that I can stand in and say: 

"God, I have no idea what the right answer is and I'm crazy in my head to boot, but I'm going to trust that your grace is sufficient.  That you will make right what I can't help but make wrong."

Because--did you know?  God's covenant is equal parts law and love.  It says there is something I'm being held to, but that His love will not let me go when I screw it all up.  He will not walk away from me, no matter what, because He knows I am just walking wounded.  And I am not bound in judgement or consequence--I am bound in freedom, because the purpose of His own wounds is that He loved me to the point where He took my wounds on Himself.  

And so, here is what I'm wondering:

What if I were to approach the relationships in my life covenantally?  

What if I were to say "I see your wounds, and I take them as my own, no matter the hurt they might inflict on me or the sacrifice they might ask of me.  I will allow myself to be vulnerable before you, and ask you for your grace.  I will fight the bells in my head pointing me toward my own safety.   I will not walk away from you.  No matter what."?

What if?

"But!"  my ever-present mind spins.  "Problem! I am human.  I can't.  I will fail you.  It is better if I walk away."

And, in my humanity, I turn around to do it.  To walk away.  To find:  Jesus, the Creator of the Covenant, waiting just behind me.

He takes my downcast face full of terrified shame-laced eyes, and turns it to His, with a tenderness I can barely endure.  

He says, 

"Take those wounds, add them to your own, 

and then give them to Me.  

I will take them, I will add them to my wounds.  

And by my wounds?  

You are healed."

Because--did you know?  

His wounds are covenantal.  They are equal parts law and love.  They bind me to Him, forever.  And, they give me the strength to stand, healed and armored with Grace, in otherwise impossible real relationship.

In covenantal living.

No matter what.

Good-bye Old Year, Hello New

I had never been a lover of New Year's Eve--

too much pressure to wear high heels and a silly hat, while balancing a glass filled with substances I don't particularly like--

until  "New Year's Eve" became synonymous with "Baxter Time".

Baxter Time in any capacity is time well spent.

(Baxter Time is also well planned, thank you Adam.)

The typical pressures are removed, 

since I can walk around in just my socks

while other people wear silly hats.

(Just kidding Nathan, you know I love that hat.)

There is, however, a little bit of pressure still involved:

The pressure to perform in activities slightly outside of my comfort zone.

Linked to the latest Christmas gifts, 

past years have included Guitar Hero and other various Wii activities designed for me to fail. 

This year's humiliation of choice?

Dance equal to (or much much less than) Michael Jackson.

Hm.

(If we are talking about humiliation, let's conveniently forget to mention the foosball tournament I lose in--less than or equal to--3 minutes).  

Fortunately, I am not the only one ever caught in situations that might come back to haunt,

and for evidence-- 

I give you:

and:

Really, the small pressures involved in embarrassing one another are worth it, in that they lead to much opportunity for hilarity.

You see, with games and movies (and endless quoting of movies, particularly by 3 younger males) and shopping and eating and tea and cookies and talking and teasing making up all of our time together,

we find ourselves just endlessly laughing.

And laughing--I have come to learn--cannot be genuinely performed if genuine pressure is involved.

So, now that the old year has passed gracefully away and the new one has dawned bright and fair in the company of these old and dear friends,

I only feel pressured to tell you:

I am one blessed girl.

(My glass runneth over--

with things I DO particularly enjoy, beyond what I deserve.)

Arise, Shine, the Light has come

At some point over the past few weeks, as I maneuvered through crowds of gift-purchasing people, I thought "What is it about Christmas that we as a people get all worked up about?"

What, after all, is the point?

And then, because I am who I am, I have spent the rest of my time trying to figure it out.

On Christmas Eve, I sat amongst my mother's family as they ogled over the thoughtfulness spread through the many gifts, and I thought "Is it the thoughtfulness?"

Perhaps it is the laughter?

 The abounding joy of being together?

[Because--can't you just taste the joy demonstrated here?]

I came to no conclusion.

The following day, I dwelt in the presence of my lovely siblings & parents as we gifted each other with gifts.

As we indicated that we have been watching each other's needs.

As we desired to make each other happy,

and as happy we were made.

We spent much of the evening looking forward to a new member's presence in the next year,

and laughing together over the things that no one outside of us would understand.

As I dwelt in these good things I thought more about that "point". 

I considered--

Is it found in any of these?

and I concluded--

Yes, in all of them.

And yet...

I was not satisfied.

I considered--

they can only be a shadow...

because here is the reality I have been numbingly aware of as I have watched the Christmas preparations unfold around me:

We are just a people, walking in darkness, looking for a break.

Looking for some light, to make our journey feel just a little easier.

And so I concluded:

Laughter, togetherness, thoughtfulness, and beautiful bows are merely indications that light exists.  They are reflections and reminders that leave me unsatisfied at the end of another Merry Christmas, still feeling the weight of my brokenness.

Still wondering.

Still looking for the Light that invades darkness to give me the strength to go forward, and that is only to be found in this Word:

Arise. Shine! 

The Light has come and is 

Immanuel: 

God-with-us.

Here is satisfaction.

And so I consider and conclude:

The point?

Arise, shine, reflect and remind:

The Light has come,

The Light is with us,

And in this Light we find our Point.

[For nothing is impossible with God.]

Kate Makes A Cake in 15 Easy Steps

Step 1: Glop frosting on top of cake.

Step 2: Wack it around a bit.

Step 3:  Accidentally slap yourself in the head with the spreader.

Step 4: Laugh.

Step 5: Make it worse.

Step 6: Look woeful at the condition you suddenly find yourself in.

Step 7: Ok.  Concentrate.

Step 8:  Add second layer.

Step 9: Add frosting.

Step 10: Attempt to look very professional this time.

Step 11: Find every single variety of sprinkle you possibly can.

Step 12: Try to get some on the cake.

Step 13: Bathe. 

Step 14: Attempt to remove your new chocolate layer of skin, 

not to mention the sprinkles that have inexplicably lodged themselves in your ears.

Step 15:  Have yourself a bed-time snack, projecting an attitude of

"Yes.  I know I'm good. And I know you want some too." 

to everyone else in the room.

(Our Kate--not only does she make it.  She downright takes it.)

What is a Sister?

Here's a glimpse into my life growing up:

 I was surrounded by boys.

Though I was a sister, 

I had no concept of what it meant to have a sister.

And it made me who I am.

But then....those boys went and got themselves some women,

and those women started calling me "sister",

and though at first it was odd,

I soon discovered: I liked it.

As it turns out, it is good to have sisters.

This one was the first.  When she came around--I will admit--I was a bit wary.  I held myself back, and watched to see who she was.  Gradually I discovered she was quality, and a woman worthy of our Keith.  Then she brought me pearl earrings from Portugal, and I was sold.  

The funny thing about family is--

you don't get to pick.

And yet--as I have learned--

you can still make out quite well.

Marisa, for instance, has loved me.  Unconditionally.

She has made me laugh, with warmth.

She has held me while I cried, and spoken truth when it was what I needed to hear.

She has encouraged and supported me at every twisty turn.

And she has asked for nothing in return.

Not to mention,  she's allowed me to engage in some authentic familial girly-ness:

If you've grown up without sisters, you understand the momentousness of this.

So, why this sudden little ode to Marisa?

Because today is the celebration of her birth,

and because she is so precious to us

(and not just because she's carrying 

our first next generation-er...).

She is precious because of who she is.

Because she loves and cares for our Keith.

Because she has embraced us as her own.

And because she has answered for me the looming question:

What is a Sister?

A Sister, Maris, is you.

Happiest of Birthdays, with much love, to you.