will you offer a vacancy?

The other evening, a few girlfriends I've been doing a study with had a little Christmas get together at my house.  Since we all came feeling frazzled, tired, and a bit overwhelmed with so much yet to do, I promised that they would leaved feeling pampered, loved and reminded of what really matters most about Christmas.

My one friend has a gift for finding the perfect song for any occasion, so I asked her to bring one to share that evening.  As expected, she chose a song that was just beautiful -- the kind of song that raises goosebumps and goes straight to the heart of you, leaving you speechless for a few long moments -- as if responding with words might ruin something.  

There was one line in particular that I have not stopped thinking about since:

"The only thing my heart can offer is a vacancy."

The song is called "Be Born in Me" and the speaker in the song is a young woman named Mary, chosen by God to receive the great blessing and great burden of bringing the long awaited Messiah, Jesus Christ, into this world. Her vacancy became the fullness of life offered to all humankind.   

What a strange and wonderful thing to offer of yourself -- a vacancy, some empty room in your heart and life. In a world that tells us we should always be fulFILLed, never lacking, never empty, personally satisfied at any cost, it is a strange thought that having a vacancy in your heart might be a good thing; that it might actually be a gift to offer.

But vacancy is a gift that comes with a price.  A heart that is able to offer a vacancy has been emptied of something, sometimes by choice but often not.  Perhaps we've intentionally chosen to give up or let go of something, in order to make room for something better.  Perhaps we've chosen to open our hearts wider, making space to actually feel more pain or more joy,  or to make room for new friendships, or to respond to a need.  But perhaps the vacancy we feel is a result of loss, not by our choice at all.  Maybe we've experienced a loss of someone dear to us or a loss of health.  Maybe it's been the loss of a career or a marriage or a dream,  or the loss of identity that results from such changes. Loss creates a vacancy, one that can feel extremely painful or lonely.  

But could it be possible that a heart-vacancy also allows for new possibilities, for an infilling that could not happen otherwise?  As the Christmas story is told, on the night of Jesus's birth, there was no room at the inn. There was no vacancy.  The world had not prepared a space to receive the Greatest Gift of all.

I can't help but wonder if much has changed since that first Christmas?  I can't help but wonder about myself. 

In all the blessings I've received, in a life abundant with love, family, friendship and grace, am I will to experience an emptiness?  Am I willing to offer a vacancy in my heart and life for Jesus to come and be born in me?

My hope for all of us this Christmas, is that we will make room.  That we will not be satisfied and over-filled with good things, at the risk of missing out on the Best thing, the Giver of Life Himself.


Merry Christmas.  Hugs and love to all of you.

P.S. If you have a few moments, make yourself a warm drink, snuggle into a quiet place and enjoy:  Link: "Be Born in Me" by Nichole Nordeman & sang by Francesca Battistelli

words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

aspiring to humility

I've been wanting to write about humility for several weeks now but have been stalling.  The truth is, thinking about humility theoretically is good, but it is not enough.  Writing about it is not enough.  Every moment I spend time pondering the extraordinary quality of humility, I feel called to turn my thoughts into action, to move from the cerebral to the practical.  And while humility is a quality I want my life to be defined by, I realize that there are no short cuts to becoming humble.  From my experience, the best opportunities to actually practice humility hurt.  We can practice humility when we've been wronged or treated unfairly, when we've been misunderstood, when we find ourselves clinging to the applause of some or shrinking at the disapproval of others, when we are faced with the choice to assert ourselves or put others first.  All of these opportunities and many more like them seem to have one thing in common: they come in times of difficulty.

hu-mil-i-ty 

noun        

a modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness

Humility is beautiful, but it is not weak.  Humility is not to be mistaken for low self esteem or an inferiority complex.  In fact, the portrait of humility I find in the Bible, especially in the person of Jesus, requires immense strength of character and an ongoing commitment to choose love every time. The bible issues a wild challenge to every follower of Christ:

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:  Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death --even death on a cross!  (Philippians 2: 5-8  NIV)

Humility requires of us.   

It requires forgiveness, mercy and kindness.  It requires self-control and a willingness to step down in order to elevate others.  It requires speaking softly or not at all, when it feels more natural to raise our voice and be heard.  It requires listening, caring and for most of us, it requires a lot of practice in consciously choosing to do the hard thing.  

I wish it were otherwise, but the practice of humility does not come naturally to me. I constantly struggle internally with things that work against humility:  insisting on my right to be heard; my over-concern with what others might think of me; my desire to set the record straight, to be understood and accepted; my tendency to put myself on centre stage rather than being content as supporting cast. 

And so.... I've been praying A LOT.  I've been asking God to help me change my mind, to help me choose to think and respond differently than what comes most natural.  The bible has a really cool term for this whole process, it is called the "renewing of your mind."  In Romans 12:2 Christ followers are encouraged in this way:

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is --his good, pleasing and perfect will. (NIV Romans 12:2)

There are different ways to understand the phrase "pattern of this world" but I think the easiest way is that it simply represents the road that most of us travel naturally and easily:  the ME-first road.  In this verse, I think believers are being challenged to choose the hard way -- the way that requires a different model of thinking, literally a new mind on the matter.  And as for what is God's "good, pleasing and perfect will," that can be answered easily:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.  And what does the Lord require of you?  To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8 NIV)

Oh goodness!!  Even as I read and write in this moment, I let out a heavy sigh.

I have such a long way to go in this process.  And the hardest part of all is that practicing is really hard.  Am I willing to commit to this kind of rigorous training?  Is the outcome, a life characterized by humility, something I am willing to keep in my sights?

If I truly want to walk daily in humility, I know it means facing difficult things.  It means summoning the courage to invite opportunities, submit to this growing process, and to remind myself:  Don't just think about it.   DO IT!

(come visit me on instagram at "whisperingsoulstreams" and please take a moment to share my blog with others by clicking one of the share icons below)

words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright melody armstrong 2016

life between the highlights

Stubbed toes.  Rusty ladders.  Slimy steps.  Chipped nail polish.  

There is so much living that happens between the highlights. We all know it's true, yet we sometimes believe that ours is the only life that is ordinary, mundane, uneventful or filled with heartache.  We are dazzled by the vast number of "likes" on our friend's Facebook pages or Instagram accounts.  We believe they are proof that everyone else in our circle is experiencing life more fully, taking more exotic vacations, accomplishing more items on their bucket list, eating healthier, raising all-star children, achieving their purpose-driven life........living the dream.

But what about all those in-between moments where some of the really important stuff happens --the ones we would never post for the world to see? Where disappointments stretch our character? Where misunderstandings give us opportunity to  forgive? Where we learn about humility through illness or injury? Where we struggle and strive and learn to dig deeper? Where our dependance on God grows moment by moment?

I want to share with you some of my in-between moments as a sort of sequel to the post before this one entitled Summer Sweetness and Seasons of the Soul [link here]  and one from last summer called Summer Gifts and Dreamy Spaces (link here).

I wrote my "Summer Sweetness" post over the course of a day and a half alone at the lake. Normally I just love the idea of a couple days alone in such a beautiful place with time to myself to do whatever I want: think, swim, walk, write, day-dream (and clean with no-one messing it up behind me.)  But what you won't know from reading my post is that I actually felt so lonely this time when my family was leaving.  I cried when they pulled away.   I just felt strange and weird and out of sorts -- with tears that seemed way too close to the surface.   I'd had a misunderstanding with my daughter that we hadn't really resolved well; I was feeling disconnected from my husband - sensing that his thoughts had shifted out of holiday mode and back onto work and real life; I'd felt disappointed earlier that morning that I was the only one who wanted to go for my "birthday"waterski  - when the lake was so glassy and it was our last opportunity before we took the boat out for the summer.

So that was how my "alone" time began -- kind of gross, but I knew it was just temporary weirdness.  It didn't take long before I settled into the peaceful solitude of my surroundings and sat down to write.

Then there was the rat. Yes, you heard right.  RAT!!  I won't go into all the gory details, but suffice it to say that later that night after I'd gone to bed with my bedroom doors open to the top floor deck, I'd heard a nighttime visitor scurrying just a few feet away.  Though I jumped up and flipped the light on, I didn't see anything.  But sure enough the next morning, (which also happened to be my birthday) I discovered evidence left by the critter that assured me it was bigger than a mouse.  YUCK!  It had also left evidence all over the main deck as well.

I am an Alberta girl who knows nothing about rats, but I do know about mice.  This was not a mouse.  So, I had a problem to solve.  As a result, I spent the morning of my birthday researching and looking at disgusting pictures to find out if I was actually dealing with a rat.  Then after lunch I drove into town to buy the only three rat traps I could find.  Which, by the way, are huge.  Again....yuck!!

To make a long story short, and to save you all the suspense that must be killing you, I set the traps with peanut butter, one on each level of the house, and by the next morning, I'd caught myself a pack- rat the size of my foot with a long hairy tail.

Life between the highlights.  Not glamorous.   Often not so humorous.

I guess one of the main reasons I write in this blog is simply to celebrate the grace that lines each of our moments - the highlights, lowlights and every bit of living in between.  It is a very precious gift to be able to see God at work in our lives, no matter how things appear.  This is what I ask for daily.  My earnest desire is ALWAYS to see and recognize God's grace and then to share that grace and hope with others.  This is what I love to do. Yet, you may be surprised to know that I experience a lot of angst about my writing.  Yet another part of my own story of life between the highlights.

Almost every time I sit down to write,  I worry that my posts will sound trite or cliché.  Most days, I agonize over every line; rarely does my writing happen effortlessly.  Instead, I grapple with wording and often scrap posts altogether because I am afraid of how my words will be taken.  At times, I find writing about joy and beauty the most difficult of all topics.  The whole time that I am trying to encourage and share beauty with my readers,  I am thinking about all the ugliness that so much of the world faces every single day.  I think about the secret heartache of people I rub shoulders with at the grocery store.  I think about the vast, indescribable suffering of people on every surface of the globe.  I worry that my words will make people scoff or feel even more cynical about the hurts and disappointments of life.  I worry that my joy will highlight someone else's pain.  Or if I write about hurt or sadness or struggles, I worry that I'm not qualified because I have such a good life overall.  I worry that I will sound like a princess who takes her own perfect life for granted and only obsesses over minuscule first-world problems.  I worry that I will sound completely naive or insensitive to the tragedies occurring all around me.  I worry.  And that gets in the way of me following my calling.

A dear friend recently challenged me when I shared these feelings with her.  She is the one who, back when I was a teenager, helped me fall in love with writing and poetry and who still encourages me to write from the heart today.  She said simply and pointedly:  "Try not to judge who needs it and who doesn't.  Let the Lord have his way with your writing.  There's a million message he can bring through your words. "

Let the Lord have his way.  If I believe that I'm following my calling when I sit down to write, then why can't I simply trust that my writing will land where it needs to and touch those it was meant for?

Trust.  I am learning to trust God with all of the in-between parts of my life.I want to practice noticing and celebrating God's gifts of grace that come during all the seasons, especially those between the highlights when life is tough, or ordinary, or confusing, or overwhelming.  I have a hunch that as grand as the highlight moments are, it's the in-between stuff that matters most in the end.

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

a difficult "yes"

You asked 

something important of me

and I said "yes"

not a thunderous kind of yes

that throws open doors

and reverberates through hallways

but a single

fragile

feather-kind of yes

one with almost no weight 

of confidence

at all

the kind of yes 

that might require some shelter

to keep it from wisping away

with my heavy exhales

i can only trust 

that even in its frailty

You hear it 

that it counts

somehow

it is mystery to me

that You are able 

to take one delicate yes

upon    another

upon           another

and create 

something warm enough

to cover me 

during the cold

winter

drift

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2016

my fall manifesto...revisited

i want to......

-laugh every day --no matter what
-let thanks to God be the first thoughts on my mind
-listen, really listen, to my kid's stories -- even when I'm trying to "get stuff done."
-make crabapple jelly and juice

-pay attention to my life (and read Buechner when i need reminding)

-sing loudly in the shower

-grumble less about busyness

-accept

-eat slower...savour more

-juice, juice, juice and love the art of it

-pull out recipe books when I get the cooking blahs

-remember that cooking blahs are an amazing problem to have

-make family opportunities to give

-get out with friends more as a couple (without kids)

-write often. whenever, wherever, whatever

-stop to write love notes...even if they are on plain paper :)

(this love note i wrote for my Dad was still stapled to the inside of a 

cupboard door in his garage, years after it was written...hmmmmm)

-give longer snuggles at bed times

-plant life (tulips and gladiolas)

-celebrate small victories and maybe losses too

-keep eyes wide open for beauty everywhere

-rediscover the Bible and let its life land fresh in my soul

-share it, share it, share it (whatever "it" it)

-less wine

-walk to the forest more (lay in moss &listen to stillness)

-lace up in these cooler mornings and get out in it

-say "yes" when the big kid wants to go for a drive

-cinnamon bun dates with boy in braces 

-make mall dates with preteen queen of the house

-watch net flix with hubbie (more TV? )

-play (especially if it's snowing in Sept!) (like mom, 87)

 -enjoy home days to the fullest

-read to the kids

-get more music (non 80's haha) on the family ipod

-find some great audio books for our long drives

-set aside days where a fleece onsie is full fashion

-bake with the kids and enjoy the mess

-create...create...share...

-be true to my creative self and indulge whenever I can

....and the list goes on.....but thought I'd share a few with you. 

hugs and love,

Melody

(p.s. I've included some links to older posts in case you're in the mood to kick back and read a few other related pieces.  Enjoy!)

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014 

sitting with sadness awhile....

I have finally agreed to allow my own Sadness a seat at the table of this great life banquet of mine -at least for the time being.

Sadness is rarely allowed to pull up a chair, much less have a voice in the conversation of my soul. I usually do a good job of pushing sadness back and squeezing the door tight to keep it out.  I think Sadness is a lousy guest.  It talks too slow.  It asks me awkward questions while looking me square in the eyes.  It takes a long time to make its point when it finally speaks.  I don't enjoy sitting with sadness, ever.

I much prefer to sit with Joy.  We're great friends and have so much to talk about as we laugh and savour life together.  Some of my other favourite guest are Happiness, Triumph, Strength and Success.  They are  always welcome to join the party whenever they show up.  While they are a lot less dependable than Joy and Sadness, they are so much fun and they really boost my self-confidence.  I admit that our conversations can get a little shallow at times, but at least they don't ask me uncomfortable questions about myself,  my character, or my faith the way Sadness does.

Sadness has been incessant lately, continuing to knock at the door of my heart.  It will not take "NO!" for an answer.  I've told Sadness time and again that there is no room at this soul table because the seats are already filled with Joy and the enormous Blessings' family.  But Sadness disagrees and insists that there is room at the table right next to Joy, maintaining that the two are comfortable together since they spend most of life side by side.   Not only that, Sadness is also pushing me to squeeze in and extra chair for Brokenness, --another guest that I find to be an intolerable party-wrecker.

So, I concede.  I have finally agreed to make room at my soul table and sit with these usually unwelcome guests.   Strength, Success and the rest of the rowdy and jovial bunch haven't shown up.  Joy is present and smiling as usual, but seems to be especially quiet today.  I'm feeling a little on my own with Sadness and Brokenness but have decided to engage as honestly as I can and see what they have to share with me.   I'm hoping that maybe we will find a way to be at peace with one another.

I'm pretty sure that the main course of this meal will be humility.   O, God, please also bring Courage to this soul banquet as I learn to quiet myself, listen, share and be nourished at this table. 

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

an open heart

“It takes courage to push yourself 

to places that you have never been before...

to test your limits...

to break through barriers.

And the day came when the risk it took 

to remain tight inside the bud 

was more painful 

than the risk it took to Blossom.” 

― Anaïs Nin

It's always safer being closed.  But is safer, better? 

My husband and I have been pondering the questions again....the ones that keep popping up when relationships get stretched and worn thin.  Is it really worth the pain to keep caring, to keep trying?  Is it possible to somehow be impermeable to hurt and disappointment, and still maintain an open, tender heart?  Or, should we just accept pain and hurt as the inevitable cost of choosing to maintain certain relationships? 

I've been watching this sunflower in its slow and careful unfurling to the world.  Its destiny is to bloom - to open up and boldly share its radiance.  I'm certain our hearts are destined for the same, regardless of how vulnerable it makes us feel.

There is no guarantee that our relationships will turn out the way we'd like, no matter how hard we try or how good our intentions may be.  Still, I think it is right to keep risking, regardless of the cost. The willingness to be tender and open in relationships, to share our truest selves with the world,  allows for the possibility of an amazing miracle to occur...the unfolding of something shockingly beautiful.  

words and images (unless otherwise cited) © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

the weeds in me....

My sister is a wonderful gardener, a real gardener, not just a wanna-be like me.  Last spring she gave me a truck load of transplants to kick start my new flower beds and I couldn't wait to put them in. 

But before the planting....before a flower bed can start to take shape, I know I've got my work cut out for me.  The ground is hard and full of weeds.  The soil isn't ready.  

For the record, weeding is hard.  It's tedious and pain-staking.  It's also critical to a beautiful garden.  So....I dig.  I bend and pull.  I turn soil and follow the roots right to their beginning.  I don't let one little weed go, because if I do, I know it will reproduce faster than anything good in that ground.  

That's the way it is with weeds.  If we don't deal with them, they take right over and choke out the beauty. 

Before long, my back aches and everything inside of me screams that there must be an easier way.  But no!!  There is never an easy way to true beauty.  So I keep on going, adding to the weedy pile of ugly but tenacious roots till the soil has all been turned and the weeds are gone.

Then comes the HOPE -- I can finally plant those seedlings of hope that become the BEAUTY I dream of all winter. 

Tender shoots finally have a place to be planted, nurtured and grow.  

But the hard stuff comes first.  That's spring for me -- that season of dealing with the hard stuff, even while glimpsing the gifts of new beginnings around me.  

So...I hope you will permit me a bit of a rant, just in case I'm not the only one who struggles in spring.....

Many people count spring as one of their favourite seasons.  Not me.  I don't mean to be a spring scrooge.  I am grateful for all the precious gifts that come with spring like longer daylight hours, kids playing later in the neighbourhood when I should be sending them to bed,  birdsong through newly opened doors, buds forming on every branch and crocuses scattered along the walking path.  I'll be the first to admit that something magical happens in me when those first shades of green begin spreading like blankets everywhere, and there's no question that the gentle fragrances of rain and apple tree blossoms and lilacs are some of life's most sensual gifts.  But for me, spring can still be hard.

Where I live, a good part of spring is brown and cold.  And, it's the season when all my running and rushing and commitments catch up with me and I feel dog tired.  Instead of spring cleaning and diving eagerly into new projects, I'm often scraping bottom -- dragging to complete what I've already started.

It's the season where all the weeds I've left unattended in my life, begin sprouting up everywhere and I'm forced to take a closer look at those things that need to be pulled up.  I know that I'm going to have to dig deep and feel the pain.

I don't want the beautiful things God is doing in my life to be choked out by deep-rooted weeds of sin.

So, I call out to the Master Creator, the Designer of my life, the Maker of my dreams, the One who calls me His own.  I know it's only His loving hands that can truly tend the garden of my soul.   

I come to the end of myself, to that place where I just can't do any more, that place where I'll just never be able to measure up and fix all the wrongs, that place where no matter how much I try, it's just not enough to pull out of the hole I've dug myself into -- and there I find Jesus.  There I find the One who saves!  

I grew up hearing the phrase "Jesus Saves."  And now I get it -- after all these years.  Yes,  there is One who saves, who rescues, who delights in making right from all the wrong....who heals my brokenness and turns my mourning into dancing, who lovingly breaks up the hard ground and digs deep enough to get the weedy roots while tenderly protecting the beauty He sees (even the stuff that's still to surface.)

When friends used to tell me that my christian faith was just a crutch, I used to disagree.  Not any more.  I've lived enough years now to realize that it doesn't take long to reach the end of myself, the end of my independence, the end of my own strength, the end of my own strivings.  Yes, do I ever need a Savior to lean on!  I really don't want to live any other way.

And so......please try to be patient with me, even as I try to be patient with myself.  No doubt, the weeding process can be a little ugly.  But join me in keeping a look-out for the flowers He's planted-- they'll be in full bloom before you know it.

With love,

Melody

words and images © copyright Melody Armstrong 2014

just one of those days.....

I don't know if any of you have had the rare experience of hearing and seeing your microwave door burst open in an explosion of spaghetti squash......but I have.  After the mild heart attack my kids and I had, we busted up laughing.  Half my kitchen was splattered with the stringy yellow stuff.  And my microwave....well the pictures say it all.  I don't know how I had the presence of mind to take pictures of it, but I'm glad I did.  It was just one of those days. 

So much of my life is like this - splattered, messy, yet still kind of beautiful in a totally weird way. 

I'm sure you've had days like this too when you're hanging by the skin of your teeth, trying to laugh instead of cry and reminding yourself how good you've got it compared to most everyone else on this planet?  (And you do!  Me too!)

The day before yesterday was another one of those days for me.  It began by spending 2.5 hours on the phone for technical support over someone repeatedly hacking into my apple ID.   A couple hours later, I wiped out on my friend's icy, concrete front steps and landed square on one butt cheek (at least one reason to be grateful for extra padding).  Then, after pulling my sorry butt up out of the snow, I hobbled over to my car, got in and proceeded to dump an entire container of granola mix I had just purchased, all over the floor and seat.  Finally, after arriving home and vacuuming up the mess in my car, I went to the kitchen to heat some store purchased soup (yes, another stellar effort at dinner) and spilled half it on the counter. Not a good day.  One might wonder at the wisdom of me cleaning out my china cabinet the next morning!!!

If, like me, you can also laugh at the craziness of your life -- then we both have so much to be thankful for.  

Just thought I'd share.  xo

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2013

still lovely......

 I saw this flower on an evening walk and loved it so much for all of it's glorious, ragged, half spent beauty.  

I wish I could have brought it home still preserved in it's luminous  sunset glow, and propped it up on the dresser beside my bed to remind me that HERE IS BEAUTY - IN ALL IT'S IMPERFECT PERFECTION. Then surely I wouldn't forget. Again.  

And all the days when I am so hard on myself and feel like I just can't get it right, I could see this piece of gorgeousness and remember what I KNOW WAAAYYYY DEEP DOWN IN THE FIBRES OF MY SOUL:  that I'm still lovely...covered in God's love and forgiveness. 

But I do forget.  Over and over and over.  I am still so hard on myself - even over small things.

I can be my own toughest critic.  Add to that the criticism of others, and it's a wind strong enough to send all my delicate petals flying right off the stem some days.

But God sees me so much differently than I see myself.  He is never hard on me the way I am....but instead, he favors me with his love and freedom.  He cherishes me unconditionally.  He calls me His own.  

One scripture from the Bible that speaks so tenderly to my soul in times like these is Zephaniah 3:17:

"The Lord your God in your midst, The Mighty One, will save;  He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." (NKJ Version)

He sees this wildflower that I am, this vision of frailty and beauty wrapped in one, and rejoices over me with singing.  He bursts into song at the sight of me.  Imagine!!

The crazy truth, so simple yet so mind-boggling, is that my sins aren't enough to diminish His love and my strengths aren't enough to earn it.  NEITHER MY SINS NOR MY STRENGTHS ARE ENOUGH.  

BUT GOD'S GRACE, that unearned gift of love that he offers every single, longing, wildflower-of-a-soul that turns to His gaze --IT IS ENOUGH.  ALWAYS.  

Words and text © copyright Melody Armstrong 2013.