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

letting go

.....and here we have the breaking.......

words and images © copyright melody armstrong 2015

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

ways of seeing

I sit with my daughter at her orthodontic appointment.  There is nothing inherently special about this day. I'm just glad that we're together, even if it's for something as mundane as dental appliances.

From this vantage point, sitting and leaning against the window, I see the winter wind blowing cold, taunting and bending bare branches low.  Inside, I see kids and wires and wide open mouths...assistants with masks and pliers and brackets....and other waiting moms putting in time texting or flipping through out-dated magazines until whisking their metal-mouthed child off to the next committment.

And then I spot the art...a spark of beauty in the ordinary.  I pull out my camera and take some shots. I'm suddenly having fun. While other moms read articles on fitness and diet, I take pictures of a coffee cup and smile to myself, delighted at the irony of it all.  It's a boring old coffee cup with an orthodontic logo on the side, yet it reflects beauty.  It gives me a new way of seeing the world outside that isn't nearly as dreary or cold.  

I can't help but think that this ordinary life is laced with beauty and mystery that is so easy to miss.  I love the words crafted by Sue Monk Kidd in her novel The Secret Life of Bees:  

“I realized it for the first time in my life: there is nothing but mystery in the world, how it hides behind the fabric of our poor, browbeat days, shining brightly, and we don't even know it."

And I smile because it also gives me hope -- hope that even in the mundane circumstances of my life, when I'm used up and empty, and certainly in need of cleansing, that I can reflect beauty too.  I admit I don't always do this well.  There are times, two particular instances from this weekend alone, that I can reflect the downright ugly---- those tender, insecure places in me that can ooze ugly.  The hope comes in knowing that this is where God's tender mercy, healing, and forgiveness comes in.  He takes those places in me and transforms them with his lovingkindness, from ashes to beauty.   Eugene Peterson, in  Run with the Horses, insists that "no true spiritual life can be distilled from or abstracted out of this world of chemicals and molecules, paying your bills and taking out the garbage."  I'm being transformed and renewed right in the middle of my messy life.

If I am to shine, to reflect beauty in any way at all, I want it to be NOW --right here in this unremarkable moment.  What a shame it would be to keep waiting for some time way off in the future when I might finally have my stuff together and be rid of insecurity once and for all.  If I wait that long, I will never shine at all.  

Words and images (unless otherwise cited) Copyright © 2013 Melody Armstrong 

building character....

It's messy work this process of becoming me.  The stirring and churning and sloshing of things I thought I'd figured out, tips me right off balance sometimes...and I pour out.  

Is this what it takes to make a firm foundation?  It hurts making  something solid and lasting from the ingredients of my life.  It's labor intensive --this vigorous mixing of my emotions, my relationships, my questions, my certainties, my faith, till it becomes the right consistency for making rock.  

My soul reels and I'm off centre and everyone around me feels it too.

photos and text by melody armstrong © 2013

a hockey mom's laundry room

WHAT WAS I THINKING WHEN I  SAID "YES" TO CARING FOR THE JERSEYS?  REALLY????  Could no one have reminded me that my laundry room is a disaster at the best of times??  That I'm constantly tripping over misplaced shoes which suddenly went from a manageable size 6 (small trip) to a ridiculous men's size 11 (large trip and almost fall) and every other size in between??  That huge storage bins, ten gallon paint cans, smelly hockey jerseys and other assorted hockey equipment would occupy all floor space?  That the washer and dryer would become convenient although INaccessible storage for multiple random items such as Halloween makeup, 2 loaves of bread, recently worn hats, gloves and ski pants, toilet paper (?what), empty laundry detergent containers..... ???? 

Stuff is spilling out everywhere.

Oh.....isn't that the story of my life?  Of so many of our lives?  No matter how hard we work to pull it all together, contain it, control it, manage it........or AT LEAST TRY TO MAKE IT LOOK THAT WAY, so many of us are just one busy weekend away from having it spill out everywhere.

And it spills not just from our laundry rooms. If only it was that simple?  

Too often the spilling comes from a more private place --messier than my laundry room, at times, although much less obvious.  It's my soul I'm talking about.

I get overwhelmed by the schedule, sprinting to and from the car with arms full, and phones ringing, and kids hollaring "where's my....." and low gas tanks, and sticky-notes on my steering wheel, and printed schedules that were here a minute ago, and the whistle of incoming texts, and police with photo radar giddy at the thought of speeding moms just like me who are about to crest the next hill and help them meet their daily quota.

It's all a little too much at times......and when the spilling begins, it is ugly. My voice gets too loud.  My pitch gets too high.  And every wrong my children have ever committed replays through my mind in fullscreen, HD.  The long list of frustrations and wrongdoings (that were supposed to be forgiven long ago) begin spewing from my lips --lips that are meant to share encouragement, love, gentle correction, and healing kisses.  

I rant until their ears are closed and mine are suddenly open --open to the accusing voice that always follows, silently yelling words like "shame" and "failure." It is not the voice of my Soul's Savior, who loves and corrects me all in the same, gentle breath.  

So I have a choice.  Right there, in that moment.  I can slump my shoulders and sink into the miserable shame and guilt that steals joy, grace and second chances.  I can turn a sharp tongue to my own soul and batter it with those words we mother's often tell ourselves: "you're a brutal mom; what kind of example are you? When will you ever get it right?......."  

Or, I can choose Him....GRACE and TRUTH and LOVE.  Grace says that there is always forgiveness.  Truth says that I am broken, like the rest of the world, and need healing.  Love says that I can be free from guilt and start again.  

So today I choose well.  I take a deep breath, humble myself, and ask for forgiveness.  I'm convinced that my children are God's secret agents, for every time I humbly ask their forgiveness, they  throw wide their arms and embrace me with unconditional, unreserved love.  They promise me that I can make mistakes too, and that they will always love me, no matter what....Oh, they remember!  Could it be that I really have taught them well...that I really have modelled it to them, no matter how feebly?  That they've come to understand what God has whispered to me and I have whispered to them from their infancy: "I will always love you.  No matter what!"

Next time you are faced with the choice, I hope you choose Grace, Truth and Love.    xoxo

photos and text © melody armstrong

noticing...

Today I walk.  It's cool outside but I need to breathe -- deeply.   I huff and puff up the hill as fast as I can till my legs burn and I feel like I am coming alive again - rather than going into hibernation.

I crawl through a fence, an old habit that I haven't yet kicked of needing to explore the boundaries, and follow coyote tracks across fields to the edge of dense far-away woods.

As I make my way across the barren, ice-dusted praire grasses.....

I NOTICE   

this leaf

like me

so many colors

parts alive next to parts dead

sitting beautiful 

in an imperfect way

letting the snow melt

this tree

like me       

branches bare today

stripped of decoration

the shape of 

what was

what is

and what tomorrow 

will be 

this post

like me

wrapped in barbs

sometimes

old and new

rusty-sharp

piercing those close

this pretty weed 

in seed

like me

transforming, shedding

readying for winter

and spring

photos©Melody Armstong

giving or receiving, which do you prefer?

I read it in Donald Miller's book Blue Like Jazz (p. 84) and it smacked me right between the eyes:

"I love to give charity, but  I don't want to be charity."

I knew the moment I read it that his comment describes me too much of the time.  I would rather be the one giving.  I would rather be the hero.  I would rather think my way into believing that I don't need - that I have so much to give.

How foolish.

Whenever I consider myself to be in the "giving" role more than the "receiving" role, I have blinders on.  Not only is that perspective naive, it is arrogant, ugly and completely mistaken.

I am constantly in need.  Why is that so difficult to admit?  I am continually on the receiving end of grace, mercy, and love, every moment of every day.  How could I think otherwise?

I have not earned this life.  I have not earned the love of my family, friends or my Creator.  I have not earned my health.  I have not earned my birth place in Canada.  I have not earned my freedom.

All of these things have been GIVEN to me.

ALL THAT I HAVE TO GIVE, HAS FIRST BEEN GIVEN TO ME. 

ALL IS GIFT.

There is one specific instance where I distinctly remember REFUSING CHARITY....and ultimately refusing a chance at deeper friendship.  It is an occasion I have regretted ever since, and although I asked forgiveness of this friend, it remains to me a painful and powerful lesson about the importance of receiving.

I was a mess!!  I was flat on my back, hurting with back pain and trying to cope with a newborn baby, a 14 month old, and a 3 year old. My lovely neighbour arrived at my house one day with a meal in her hands and a casual "I've come to clean your house."  She was exuberant.  But instead of being overjoyed and  accepting her offer with gratefulness, I refused her with a sort-of joking but overly harsh: "You are not cleaning my house!"  And that was it.

Her countenance changed.  Her excitement fizzled into politeness.  In that moment, a budding friendship was halted because I refused her gift.  The joy that both of us could have experienced, her in giving and me in being super spoiled by such a caring gesture of friendship, was lost.  

I could spend all day trying to justify my refusal:  Why should she have to work so hard?  Her offer was too generous to accept.  Such a kind thought but I'd be fine on my own.  

THE TRUTH WAS,  I NEEDED TO DEAL WITH MY PRIDE. 

I didn't like that I was needy.  I didn't want someone else to have to do my dirty work.  

No, I wanted to be strong, capable and in control.  I didn't want to be laying on my back in pain....I DIDN'T WANT TO BE CHARITY. 

These days, I'm learning to say it out loud.......to caste aside my pride and declare:

I WANT GRACE.  I WANT CHARITY.  I WANT TO BE LOVED.  I WANT MERCY. 

I WANT GIFTS THAT I HAVEN'T EARNED.  I WANT TO RECEIVE. 

 I WANT TO BE FILLED TO OVERFLOWING.

And then, the outpouring of my love to others will be fragrant with humility and a beautiful understanding of ALL THAT HAS BEEN GIVEN TO ME.

THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR BEING THE ULTIMATE GIFT -------- I WANT ALL OF YOU, ALL DAY LONG, EVERY DAY.

(And Hope, if you read this.....please know that although I apologized to you long ago, I have never forgotten this lesson and I have worked very hard since then to remember that  IT IS JUST AS IMPORTANT TO GRACIOUSLY RECEIVE AS IT IS TO GENEROUSLY GIVE.  And I promise to accept if you should ever offer to clean my house again!!!  oxoxox) 

I invite your comments and reflections in the comment area below.

words and images © melody armstrong 2013

frosty joy

Delight is a wondrous thing.

this mornings frosty offerings

We had our first snowfall fly from the heavens last night around 9:00 pm.  We may be the only household that cheers and hollers when the air turns white with dancing, twirling coolness.  

Homework gets tossed aside, hand stands in the living room cease,  jackets are rummaged through and thrown on recklessly, and kids are high-tailing it out the door.  

Delight. It makes my heart soar.  

What a gift - this unique ability to celebrate the strangest things, to have a different perspective - a different way of seeing that allows for surprise and wonder.

This is a lesson my children teach me almost daily....and when they forget, I try to remember and teach them:  it is all in the seeing.  There is always another angle from which to view our circumstances.  

always another angle

Surely an icy snowfall on the 1st of October is only miserable, cold and a mournful loss of last week's 25 degree temperatures!  But, no.  Instead its a joyful indication of all that awaits for children who are eager to toboggan, ski, skate, shovel, build snowmen AND PLAY in the white wonder.

May you be delighted today as you seek and search and keep looking for new angles....whether your day is filled with summery green warmth, or white frosty cold like mine.  

If you wish to share a story when you have been surprised by joy, I welcome you to share your thoughts in the comment section below.  

Photos ©Melody Armstong

on being small

the mossy woods in Caroline, AB.

Have you ever laid down on a soft piece of moss in the middle of the woods and starred up into the trees?  Or laid on a cool patch of grass and been mesmerized by an endless shimmering of stars? Have you ever laid in the sand near the ocean and listened to the rushing, roaring, symphony of waves crashing on the shore?

have you ever felt incredibly small?

What about the times in your life when you've laid flat out - but not by choice?  When you've been completely broken -- in heart or in body?  When life has left you battered, crushed and powerless in a world where we are valued for our strength, power and independence?

My soul has been longing to understand what an abundant, successful life looks like in God's economy, where the first will be last, where if I lose my life - I will find it, and where when I am weak - I am actually strong in Christ. 

And what about my dreams, my grand hopes for the future, my longing to really be somebody one day--all in the name of "accomplishing something special for God"?  How do those secret places of my heart fit with God's perfect plans for me?  Do they have any resemblance at all?

I read the words of F.B. Meyer (in Ann Voskamps one thousand gifts. p. 171) and they tip me right upside down:  

"I used to think that God's gifts were on shelves one above the other, and that the taller we grew in Christian character the easier we should reach them.  I find now that God's gifts are on shelves one beneath the other, and that it is not a question of growing taller but of stooping lower, and that we have to go down, always, down, to get His best gifts."

wildflowers in Kananaskis 

I am so incredibly small, but can I accept that as a good thing?

Nothing in the world tells me that smallness is good.  That, in fact, that it might actually be true greatness.   Nothing I read in magazines or watch on TV tells me that if I want to be great, I need to learn to be the servant of all.  No self-help book that I know of has ever spent a chapter on being meek, reminding me that it is the meek who will inherit the earth.

This idea of "smallness equals greatness" seems only to be a God-thing, completely foreign to the confines of popular thought today.  And really, can God be trusted when the culture I am woven into applauds strength, success, independence, empowerment, and getting ahead at almost any cost?  

God or culture?  What am I willing to risk, to live a life of love and humility?

I'd like to end by retelling (and abbreviating) a story I read in Peter Scazzero's book The Emotionally Healthy Church (p. 119): 

There once lived a water carrier in India who made the same trip every day from the stream to his master's house, using two large pots attached at either end of a large pole he carried across his neck.  The one pot was perfect and became very proud that it always delivered a full load of water at the master's house.  The other pot had a large crack in it and became very discouraged that it only ever arrived at the master's house half full.  Finally the cracked pot spoke to the water carrier at the stream one day and apologized shamefully for its brokenness and for only ever delivering half its original load.  The water carrier smiled at the cracked pot and pointed to the beautiful flowers that lined one side of the path back to the master's house saying: "I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we passed these spots, you watered them.  Now for two years I have been able to pick those beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table.  Without you being just the way you are, I would not have this beauty to grace his house."

What gifts of beauty have grown from your brokenness?  What new perspectives have resulted from your smallness?  Is being strong, independent, and powerful really all it's "cracked up" to be? (pardon the pun!)

If you wish,  you may leave your thoughts and reflections in the comment section below.

photos © Melody Armstong

An Invitation to Read My Heart

a favorite rock i found while playing in the stream

I start this blog with a confession:  beginnings scare me.  I never begin a new journal on the first page.  I always save it for later when it will be "just perfect."  I'm a little stuck on the "perfect" part when it comes to beginning this blog. Since I can't leave the first page blank, I'm struggling with how to begin.  Should I introduce myself or just jump right in?  What should I write about?  Will it be interesting enough to bring you back for more?

So I've decided to let the whole perfection thing go.   I invite you to come and READ MY HEART on these pages.  My earnest and ongoing prayer is that you find rest, restoration, and replenishment for your soul as you join me here and we journey together.