I walked into the room filled with women I had yet to know. It was March. Outside the gray skies and cold wind encouraged me to quicken my steps.

We recently decided that Village Seven was going to be our home church. Being the extrovert that I am I was anxious to meet my new friends. Ladies Bible study seemed the perfect place to start. And it was.

I walked through the door leaving the cold outside and Marion immediately spotted me and walked toward me offering the warmth of a new friend. That was the first day of a friendship I’m so glad God gifted me with.

Several stories were shared at her memorial service earlier this month about Marion’s warmth and inviting nature. I experienced it that morning.

Hi, I’m Marion. I don’t think we’ve met.

A sigh of relief. Someone noticed. She asked about me. We realized we had lots in common. She introduced me to others. She led me to a small group of ladies who became my Bible study group for the rest of the year. That was the beginning of our 25 year friendship.

Marion continued reaching out. She and her husband Bill were the first to invite us for dinner. She included me when she hosted a few ladies for tea in the afternoon.

I soon learned that not only was Bible study important to Marion, her personal time with Jesus was the highlight of her day. That time flowed into our friendship. We often shared what we were studying and learning. Marion was a breath of fresh air.

Marion believed in me. I remember where we sat at that restaurant with her friend Beth and talked about Bible study. She asked, Sue how do you want to be involved? Her question communicated she trusted me and my walk with God. It led to a new involvement for me.

I loved learning from Marion and many others also noticed her contributions. Marion was the speaker for our women’s missionary luncheon one spring. I still remember her words from Psalm 23. She described God not only as our shepherd, but also as our host preparing for and attending to our needs. Psalm 23 continues to be a personal favorite. And it is one of the scriptures Marion requested as she lay in her hospital bed the last day of her life here on earth. It was read aloud at her memorial service. Tears. I remembered.

Marion was humble. She was quick to ask forgiveness. I too experienced this quality in her personally. It marked me.

Three significant lessons stand out to me from our last few years. Marion was then a widow and living in a senior living apartment. I always loved our time together.

1. Marion was generous. She often invited me to share lunch with her in the lovely dining room looking over Pikes Peak.

She was generous with her time and abilities. When my sister died a few years ago, Marion used her knitting skills to help me make gifts to give to my other sisters and my nieces. Those dishcloths were a reminder of God’s everlasting love with a heart knitted into them.

2. Marion continued to minister. We talked about her returning to the ladies Bible study at our church. Many wanted her to come back. But Marion saw where she was living as her place of ministry. She started a Bible study there with a few of the women. She attended church there. As she ministered where she lived in the past, she continued to minister where she lived. Her time there with her new friends will not be quickly forgotten. The chaplain from the senior living apartments led her memorial service.

3. Marion knew the importance of generations. She spent Tuesday mornings at her computer recording for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren their heritage. Not only sharing their past, also encouraging them with their legacies. I remember one day her showing me her desk and computer where she typed every Tuesday. Kind of like Jesus, she not only told me, she showed me.

I am so glad our lives intersected. Her influence has made a difference in who I am and our together stories will continue to influence me. I’m confident that many share this testimony.

“His master said to him [her],
‘Well done, good and faithful servant [and my friend] …
Enter into the joy of your master.'”
Matthew 25:21 (bolding mine)

 

Copyright: Sue Tell, October 2021

 

 

The Bible records over 3000 questions starting with the serpent, did God really say …?  Jesus alone asked over 300 questions; many never answered … at least in the written text. But I wonder, did his questions lead the hearers to an answer; or maybe to listen for the voice of God?

Questions clarify; questions lead; questions invite listening and reflecting; questions are good. An alert faith asks questions.

Last spring Bill and I hosted some recently graduated college students overnight. Eddie* came into the kitchen where I was unloading the dishwasher and asked, Sue, how has your whole life been?

I laughed. That question was much too big. Did he really want an answer?

When I was invited to be part of a writing workshop in Alaska, questions proliferated. I want to improve my writing. Alaska is one of the three states I’ve not visited. But …

The questions came quickly. I wanted God’s will.

Is merely asking for God’s will too big of a question? I think so.

I’m learning when I ask questions in smaller bites, it’s easier to hear answers.

As I thought about Alaska, one of my first questions was, is this good stewardship?  My wise friend asked me to break down that question even farther to discern what was I really asking. Was this being a good steward of my talents? Was this being a good financial steward? Was this good stewardship of my time? Her wisdom guided and helped.

Some other questions I’m asking as I discern God’s will are:

What is my husband’s (and other trusted others) counsel?
How does this opportunity fit with the overall direction of my life?
Does this opportunity offer a sense of life, peace, and freedom?
What scriptures has God brought to mind?
Is there an aspect of Jesus’ life that speak to this?
What would be a loving choice?
Is this good thing in good timing?
How would this decision fit with other’s observations about who I am?
What challenges does this choice open up?
Does this fit with the desires God has placed on my heart?
How does this fit with my heart to serve the local church?

We’re always looking for answers and often questions lead to listening more deeply to the heart of God. What other questions would you add to the above list?

                                                 Sometimes

Sometimes                                                                   Requests to stop what
if you move carefully                                                you are doing right now,
through the forest,                                                    and

breathing                                                                      to stop what you
like the ones                                                                are becoming
in the old stories,                                                       while you do it,

who could cross                                                         questions
a shimmering bed of leaves                                   that can make or unmake
without a sound,                                                        a life,

you come                                                                      questions
to a place                                                                      that have patiently
whose only task                                                          waited for you,

is to trouble you                                                          questions
with tiny                                                                         that have no right
but frightening requests,                                         to go away.

conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.                              David Whyte, 2003

 

“Now the Lord is the Spirit,
and where the Spirit of the Lord is,
there is freedom.”
II Corinthians 3:17

“Delight yourself in the LORD,
and he will give you
the desires of your heart.”
Psalm 37:4

I’m also discovering that listening to and asking my friends questions … instead of offering my advice … is the best way to help them hear from God. And when they (we) hear from God, his answers are truly transformative … not just good advice.

 

*fictitious name

Copyright: Sue Tell, May 2021

 

 

 

 

 

journal 2/18/21

My Alaska Series … (I encourage you to read these posts first.)
Wilderness Worship, posted September 16, 2021.
Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground, posted September 23, 2021.
Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace, posted September 30, 2021.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tucked safely in my pocket, my question traveled with me for years.

What is worship?
How do I worship?
What does it mean to worship?

I’m pretty sure I don’t have a complete answer yet.
And I’m also pretty sure that in Alaska, I almost touched a whale! A worship whale.

Fin Whales are the second largest aquatic marine mammal. They weigh as much as ten large elephants and consume up to 4000 pounds of food daily. They have two blow holes on the top of their head and when they break the surface of the water to let out the breath they have been holding, their water spout or blow can reach 30 feet into the air.***

Our morning writing class had concluded. We circled Leslie and Gary asking question after question of these two seasoned authors and phenomenal teachers.

As we talked, suddenly our attention diverted to Uyak Bay beyond the windows. Fin Whales with their tell-tale blows coming every few seconds put on a show for us.

A plan was quickly set in motion: eat lunch; grab our knee boots and life jackets; and get to the barge. Leslie piloted allowing those onboard to experience a very close encounter with these mammoth animals.

I pinched myself. Sue, pay attention; stay in the moment. This is real. This is amazing. These God-created creatures are swimming in the habitat God designed for them. This is not Sea World. This is worship.

“But though the dory rocked back and forth with the swell of them, the whales never came so close that the boat might capsize. Turner heard them ripping the surface all around him, and felt the diamond spray sprinkle down on him in the moonlight like a benediction. He knew he was in the middle of something much larger than himself, and not just larger in size.” (from Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy, Gary Schmidt. Emphasis mine) My thoughts exactly!

“Ascribe to the LORD glory and strength!
Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name;
bring an offering, and come into his courts!
Worship the LORD in the splendor of holiness;
tremble before him, all the earth!”
Psalm 96:7-9

Sue, be amazed by God’s creation.
Be awed.
Be invited to worship.
Bring an offering. Ascribe to the Lord the splendor of his creation this time lived out in whales.

These ginormous Fin Whales taught me about worship.
These ginormous Fin Whales are helping answer my question.

As I look back over the years, many pieces have fallen into my pocket offering an understanding of worship. The top three are …

1. Training myself to start my (almost) daily devotional time by sitting quietly and be captivated by and in wonder of God’s phenomenal, diverse, beautiful creation.

2. I am so thankful for our worship pastors at our church, Village Seven Presbyterian . Every Sunday service is designed to flow seamlessly from the prelude to the postlude, from participating with our voices to participating in listening. I’m experiencing worship.

3. My week in Alaska on Harvester Island was like almost touching a [worship] whale. I opened huge unexpected gifts of the island every day, with every experience. From the immature Eagle flying close, or the Sea Otter floating cradling their young to the huge Seals, Sea Lions, Orcas and Fin Whales; from Starfish to Jelly Fish to Sand dollars, each unique, each amazing; from the new friends who became family to sharing amazing meals with those friends; from words drawing tears to words almost dropping me to floor in laughter; from trust built through vulnerability; from the calm waters to the white caps; from the beauty of orange and yellow sunrises to the orange and yellow sunsets; from the experience of the skiff to the barge; the Beaver Float plane to the Cessna Bush plane. The memories – whale-sized. Metaphorically I almost touched that whale and God is teaching me worship.

Copyright, Sue Tell, October 2021

*** cimioutdoored.org

 

 

Do you see the rainbow? Leslie snapped this picture a few days after we left Harvester Island. I couldn’t help but remember God’s promise to Noah.

“I have set my bow in the cloud,
and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. (verse 13)
I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh. (verse 15)
When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember, the everlasting covenant.” (verse 16)
Genesis 9 (italics mine)

My week on Harvester Island was a week of remembering. Remembering God and the goodness of his grace. For a week I lived on an island of grace (Leslie’s name for Harvester Island) realizing after I was home, my experience was worship.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

I shared this picture with Leslie and told her I was feeling loved (hugged) and pointed to God.

I also shared with her that returning from vacation last January, I decided to pursue a possible new writing project which led to joining Leslie’s Your Story Matters class, and then to the Harvester Island Writing Workshop (HIWW).

I had spent those two weeks last January on another island meditating on the book of Jonah.

“Sue, those are bones from Fin Whales you’re standing under; the same species that swallowed Jonah”, Leslie responded. A God moment.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

Generosity, the grace of giving overflowed. Leslie offered us the gift of her writing studio for the week. She lived out these words … “But as you excel in everything – see that you excel in this act of grace also.” II Corinthians 8:7.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

Watching some of the men in our group in that 25 foot aluminum skiff one afternoon picking salmon enlarged my understanding of grace. Those row-boat shaped crafts have the capacity to hold 6000 pounds of salmon. God provides; God protects. “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me.” I Corinthians 15:10. (italics mine)

We watched from above on the edge of the island, at the same time enjoying the antics of the Bald Eagles and baby Matilda … or is it Matt … perched high on an Alder tree.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

Sharing meals with others is grace. Sharing meals with others leads to stories of grace. Tammy and Joleen created the atmosphere and shared their gifting with us twice every day. (Yup, I gained weight and it was worth every bite!)

Their abundant meals, beautifully presented, more than filled our stomachs, they filled our souls. Salmon in many different forms (Have you ever enjoyed Poke’?), Halibut, King Crab, and Venison (Sitka deer were plentiful on the island). Our beach picnic a fun diversion. I can’t wait for the recipe book they are promising. We circled, held hands, sang, and prayed before each meal acknowledging the God of grace.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace

God’s creativity, his grace offered by his creation, overflowed with gifts from the ocean. Before the tides rolled in in the early mornings, some walked out on the spit greeted by several varieties of Starfish.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

“See it for the fathomless mystery that it is.
In the boredom and pain of it no less the excitement and gladness:
touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it
because in the last analysis all moments and life itself is grace.”
(italics mine)

These words penned by Fredrich Beuchner in his book Listen to Your Life describe worship for me: the mystery, the hard, the excitement, the holy, the hidden. These words describe my week on Harvester Island (minus the boredom and pain).

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

One last thought …

I can’t recommend these books highly enough. Surviving the Island of Grace is one of Leslie’s memoirs written 13 years ago. Reading it before my Alaska experience was a bit scary until I read the afterword added in her second edition published earlier this summer.

Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy is a Gary Schmidt novel. Its story of identity, people-pleasing, and the worth and value of every individual kept me spell-bound as I read it on the plane flying home. Gary was Leslie’s writing teacher partner and our other teacher for our week.

Your Story Matters is the book (and the name of the online course) that started my journey to Harvester Island. Leslie is offering a free four week introduction to her YSM course starting mid-October. Please ask, I’ll give you the details.

Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.

“Return, O my soul, to your rest;
for the LORD
has dealt bountifully with you.”
Psalm 116:7 (italics mine)

Thursday, October 7 – Wilderness Worship – I Almost Touched a Whale!

Copyright: Sue Tell, September 2021

 

Reading last week’s Wilderness Worship sets the stage for today’s words. Scroll down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Writing classes filled our mornings; our classroom overlooking the bay of the North Pacific. Leslie Leyland Fields, our hostess and resident author, and Gary Schmidt, Calvin University professor and author skillfully and passionately helped hone our writing skills. Their wisdom and personalities perfectly blending causing the mornings to fly by.

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

Something fun, something special, something unique was offered each afternoon. The first afternoon a short skiff ride in our rain gear and knee boots to a nearby lagoon to hike and collect the gifts of the beach, sand dollars and clams. Sea Otters and Seals entertaining us on the way there and back.

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

Wednesday was the favorite. We loaded onto the barge and into the skiff and were gifted with Fin Whales eating their lunch, their water spraying high, Orcas breaching over and over again in their synchronized dance, their shiny black and white bodies breaking the surface of the water; a phenomenal show. A Harbor Seal, a Salmon Shark, a large group of Sea Lions squawking at us from their private rock (reminding us of junior high boys after gym class), a Puffin, Bald Eagles soaring, Sea Gulls floating, more Sea Otters, and oodles and oodles of spawning salmon layered deep in Telrod Cove headed with the beauty of a waterfall trapping them. We gazed into their watery home while simultaneously ducking to avoid being decapitated by the branches looming over our barge and the skiff. The cove was narrow.

Orca’s and Puffins and Sea Lions – Oh My!

Duncan, piloting our barge, grew up on Uyak Bay. The pod of 30 plus Orcas were close, very close. Duncan commented he has only seen that many once or twice in his more than 60 years living on the North Pacific.

As we reported our afternoon to Leslie, we amazed her with the large variety of wildlife we saw in just four hours on the water motoring down Spiridon Bay into Telrod Cove.

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

Thursday, I sat alone with Leslie and then Gary, my pre-sent writing between us. They asked; they critiqued; they mentored; they affirmed. Their strengths blending uniquely. It was good.

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

Each night there were readings. By Leslie, by Gary, by Dave. Dave is retiring from commercial fishing at the end of this season. Along with his crew,  he joined us Tuesday for dinner and the evening. Whereas Duncan and Leslie home-base on the island, Dave’s home is his boat. His scruffy appearance belying the beautiful words telling stories of his many long years of life on the water in poetry. Life is hard; he didn’t mince words. I wonder, had his crew ever heard his words before?

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

We were the readers the last night; we shared the pieces we wrote while on the island, honest stories, deep questions, hard journeys punctuated with fun readings – we cried hard; we laughed hard. I am so thankful for these new friends.

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground.

Remembering new friends and the gazillion pieces of my Alaska week, tears threaten again. Welcome tears testifying to the everythingness (we learned new words too) of God’s goodness.

As we started with the Doxology, we finished with the Doxology Friday evening. Voices harmonizing offering our gift back to God. We received abundantly; we gave from our hearts.

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen”

And then Saturday. The Doxology again sprung from our hearts through our voices, our thanks to God, our thanks to Leslie. We were loaded on the barge with all those 50 pound suitcases, or into the skiff sailing away from Harvester Island, leaving Leslie alone on the shore. We waved and we sang Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground!

Would I go again? I don’t know.

Exodus 3 recounts the narrative of Moses and the burning, not consumed bush. Moses was on the west side of the wilderness. (verse 1) As Moses turned to look at this unlikely site, God called to him. “Moses, Moses! Do not come near; take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” (verses 3-5)

Each time we entered one of the buildings on Harvester Island, we shed our shoes. Only once recorded, did God ask Moses to take off his shoes to acknowledge the holy ground of meeting with God.

That’s what Harvester Island was for me – holy ground, a place I experienced God.

“God has a place in his kingdom and service [holy ground] that no other could fill.”
Elizabeth Elliot, Becoming Elizabeth Elliot.

“who [Jesus] saved and called us to a holy calling,
not because of our works
but because of his own purpose and grace,
which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began,”
II Timothy 1:9 (italics mine)

Wilderness Worship – Holy ground!

PS – The barge with Duncan at the helm and the skiff, piloted by Tanner transported us to Larsen Bay at low tide that Saturday morning. In Larsen Bay, a cannery for fish, we unloaded into the water (thankful for knee boots again), walked ¼ mile to the runway meeting our bush planes. They flew us over amazing, very rugged Alaska wilderness. Thanks to the fog the week before we experienced both the float planes and the bush planes, an unexpected gift.

Coming September 30 – Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace.
And October 7 – Wilderness Worship – I Almost Touched a Whale!

 

Copyright: Sue Tell, September 2021

Harvester Island, Alaska. September 4-11, 2021.

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen”

The Doxology bookended our time in Alaska. Its message never more meaningful. My eyes moist once again remembering.

My home in Black Forest to Denver to Anchorage to Kodiak Island – would we make it to Harvester Island on that bush plane? A real question.

Kodiak, sunny and blue didn’t tell the story of the heavy fog shrouding the rugged terrain between us and Harvester Island in the Alaska wilderness. Yes, I was nervous.

The morning before leaving, I sat and watched the birds at my feeders. A Eurasian-collared Dove came for breakfast. A Dove – God whispered, “Peace I leave with you; … let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” John 14:27. A timely, needed message, a prelude of Wilderness Worship.

Sitting in Leslie’s great room overlooking the bay, Kent ministered to us with his by-memory playing of the great hymns of our faith on Leslie’s 1906 Steinway. John 14:27 came to mind; I remembered.

Wilderness Worship.

The fog grounded the bush planes, the Cessna and the Piper Cubs; flying over this piece of Alaska wilderness impossible that day.

Plan B. Leslie made a Walmart run cleaning them out of blow up mattresses and purchasing lunch for her unplanned-for-guests. We were readying for a big slumber party.

We circled, held hands and for the first time that week and sang The Doxology, our faith declaration of the blessings anticipated during the next seven days.

Wilderness Worship.

Plan C. Before even choosing sleeping spots, the phone rang. The bush planes might not be able to fly but float planes could. God’s provision, an answer to prayer I didn’t think to pray. Humbled.

Wilderness Worship.

Quickly we pulled our knee boots (an important accessory) from our luggage, re-zipped, and piled into pick-ups with our 50 pound suitcases stacked precariously (to my lower 48 eyes) in the bed of the truck.

A brief drive to the float planes. Soon, not only our luggage, we too stepped on a large scale. Our weight recorded in ink determining who flies with whom. Jennifer, Janet, Joan, and Karen were my flying partners.

Flying high over this gentler swath of Alaska wilderness in our Beaver Float plane, the beauty kept us wide-eyed and snapping pictures. A highlight … a momma bear and her two cubs searching the Alpine carpet, foraging for dinner. The bears heading my list of the wild and wonderful creatures God gifted us with in their own habitat.

Wilderness Worship.

Soon, too soon, we were landing in Uyak Bay, the home of Harvester Island. Harvester Island is a working fish camp; the Field’s family pull salmon from their nets three times each day; also our home for a week.

The pontoon floats of the Beaver cushioned our landing. Grabbing the hand of our pilot, we carefully walked down the float stepping into the shallow waters thankful for knee boots. Our luggage followed delivered by a Kubota tractor.

Myra, my roommate and I unpacked in our spacious barn dorm room complete with a view of Uyak Bay. Each morning gifted us with beautiful yellow and orange sunrises painted by the original artist, his color choices exquisite. And in the dark of night, the bright stars another gift. Joan and her husband on one side, Donna and Anne Marie on the other became more than new friends, they became encouragers. We partied every night talking far later than maybe was wise – balanced by sleeping in till eight (class didn’t start until nine).

Wilderness Worship.

Sunday morning began with communion. Tyler, the pastor among us, reminded us of Jesus inviting his disciples after a long night on the water to a breakfast of fish. John 21:9-14. So appropriate. Smoked salmon was added to our Pilot bread with its long shelf life, and Wine made from grapes and honey, the grapes local to Harvester Island. We feasted on the dried smoked salmon, a similar fish to what Jesus offered his disciples, as well as the bread and wine. We remembered.

Wilderness Worship.

For the continuing story …
Wilderness Worship – Holy Ground, Thursday, September 23.
Wilderness Worship on the Island of Grace – Thursday, September 30.

Copyright: Sue Tell, September 2021

In sitting and staring,
in savoring and soaking
the sights,
the sounds,
the scents
I meet my Savior at the start of the day.

Showcasing his love.
in the swaying of branches,
in the silliness of critters,
in birds swooping toward feeders serious about breakfast.
In birds soaring above.

On the stormy days bringing afternoon showers
in the scattering of the raindrops
falling from somber gray skies,
I sit and watch out my window.

On sun-saturated mornings with its splendid blue sky
I sit outside joining creation.

Invited by stillness
to the surety of God
saturating my story,
saturating my space with his sovereign love.

 

A surprise post from our Sanctuary. See you in September!

Copyright, Sue Tell, June 2021

 

You might remember every August Echoes of Grace goes on vacation. This is our cabin remotely tucked in the Wet Mountains where Bill and I will be living this month. We call it our Sanctuary. I’m trusting this poem will describe our days.

The Gentle Yoke
Stillness and simplicity create
Anticipation highlighting the
Nearness of God. His
“Come to Me” invitation offering rest with the
Time to respond, to enjoy, to soak, and to
Unplug (mostly). Once again the
Adventure of
Refreshing, of rejuvenating, of recharging, of experiencing the gift of the gentle
Yoke of Jesus.

The very first week of September I’m flying to Harvester Island off the coast of Kodiak Island in Alaska for a week of writing training with Leslie Leyland Fields. A big plane to Anchorage; a small plane to Kodiak; a bush plane to Harvester. YIKES! Yup, I’m excited and a bit nervous.

So Echoes is taking a bit of an extended break this year. I plan that it will return on Thursday, September 16. Mark your calendars.

SURPRISE!!! In two weeks, on August 19, a few brief words will give you a glimpse into our (my) Sanctuary Time. I hope you’ll mark your calendars and come by.

 

Copyright, Sue Tell, June 2021

One Thursday evening in writing class we were given the prompt feet. These are the words God brought. A light-hearted post with God-sized thoughts. Enjoy.

 

My youngest grand, precious Leah is just discovering her feet. Shod in white lace ups they take her places leaving her hands available to grab a homemade cookie off the kitchen table. I love watching her tenuous steps. Holding my hands out and inviting her into a hug, her steps quicken.

“Not yet Leah. Walk, don’t run. Gramma will wait.” But Leah tries to run. Oops!

She crosses the rest of the distance on her hands and knees scuffing the white toes of her new shoes.

 

My great grandma wore black lace-ups with just a bit of a heel, old lady shoes. They offered stability as she went about her day. Function over fashion.

Mom scorned old lady shoes and into her 90s wore stylish footwear appropriate for her day’s activities. I remember watching her descend the stairs holding my breath. Fashion over function.

I’m my mother’s daughter with a bit of great grandma in the mix.

“Mom, p-l-e-a-s-e, can I have new school shoes, the kind without laces?”

My eight year old me already noticing. Comparison starts young and sometimes is initiated by looking down at my feet. I perceived shoes as the ticket to where I wanted my feet to go.

Fashion over function.

Then the bunions and the botched surgeries. God intervened. Function taking first place.

“He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
making my steps secure.”
Psalm 40:2

About the same time as those bunions, God was whispering something else. Truths about my identity. Those feet he knit together in my mother’s womb were about to take me in a new direction, what they were shod in not all that important.

“You make known to me the path of life:”
Psalm 16:11

My path of life was not dependent on the shoes I wore, or even on my feet.

Summer, 2010.

“Honey, I’m thinking about starting a blog.” Me to my husband.
“No-one wants more grandma stories.” My husband to me.
“That’s not what I want to write about. I want my words to be a ministry to women.”

Echoes of Grace was born with my feet well hidden beneath my desk, probably wearing athletic shoes. Function over fashion.

“The church of which I became a minister
according to the stewardship from God that was given to me for you,
to make the word of God full known,”
Colossians 1:25,  the scripture I pray for Echoes.

I was not an English major in college.
I don’t remember wanting to be a writer.

Winter, 2021.

We’re returning the rental car after our two week vacation.

“Sweetheart, I’ve made two big decisions on our trip.”
“Oh?” I heard his question in the one word.
“I’m going to get serious about writing my book.”

My path is taking a new turn.
My feet are walking in a new direction.

Looking back and looking down, I see how my feet defined me.
Looking forward and looking up to God, I see how he is leading me.

In John 13, Jesus serves his disciples by washing their feet.

“If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet,
you also ought to wash one another’s feet.”
John 13:14

I pray that my written words will serve those who read them as Jesus served by washing feet.

And as Leah grows, I pray that she will follow her feet on the path that God has designed for her.

Copyright, Sue Tell, June 2021

We’re going through a mammoth bedroom swap at the moment. In a house we fill to the brim, at points this week it has felt as though we’re trapped in a giant game of Tetris, trying to work out where all the stuff can go. One particular cupboard has been requisitioned for a different use, and as such our generous collection of odd-socks and auxiliary pack of toilet rolls now find themselves homeless, bereft, and of no fixed abode. I’ve been mulling over these items all week, wondering where their new dwelling place could be. There’s nowhere obvious, so I’m facing the possibility that these ordinary household items may live in a state of perpetual disarray. It might not seem an obvious connection to make, but somehow these items in their state of perpetual disarray have spoken to me of the dis-ease we feel as humans with the guddle of our internal worlds. Further to that, how our drive to ‘sort ourselves out’ can lead to a small life, sapped of hope, where self-awareness is king. It’s something that’s especially obvious in younger people, perhaps in their twenties, who spend a fair amount of time and attention trying to work out who they are, and what they’re good at. Some of it softens as the decades go by, but the desire towards self-improvement or self-actualisation is common throughout the ages, especially in the West. Picture in your mind the rows of self-help literature you find in bookshops. Once relegated to the backwaters of psychology, in recent decades these books are now increasingly mainstream. The attention-grabbing titles lure us in to the idea that freedom and fulfilment come from working on your issues or owning your story. We are also drawn towards any of the gazillion personality profiling polls that promise, through self-analysis, new levels of understanding and flourishing. ‘Your unique set of letters hold the answer to every single question you’ve ever asked about yourself!’ (Disclaimer: I actually love all this stuff) But….. What if our enthusiastic drive towards self-knowledge is a thinly veiled attempt to be the masters of our own condition? What if all this self-improvement isn’t spiritual transformation, as we like to think of it as, but rather yet more human endeavour to work our way towards flawlessness? For, of course, if we achieve balance and inner harmony by ourselves, then functionally we have no need for God. There are parts of us that will always be akin to odd-socks. And we won’t know what to do with them. We feel apprehensive and frustrated at the mis-aligned parts of ourselves, the bits of us wounded by life or ‘glitched’ from birth. Or, in the opposite vein, we deny them altogether, intent on getting pretending everything is A-okay. Either way, it’s natural that we seek hiding places for these awkward parts, they’re uncomfortable; we feel shame. But what if our state of perpetual disarray wasn’t a problem to be solved, or even something we need strive to put words around, in order to understand? What if our state of perpetual disarray was in fact the very optimal state, the only state, in fact, that can lead us to a state of perpetual dependency. We all, 2 Corinthians 3:18 says, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. We only come to understand who we truly are as we turn our gaze off ourselves and onto the One in whose image we are made. Only the Lord, through the Spirit, can transform us, heal us, strengthen us and grow us. Only the Lord, through the Spirit, can bring the freedom to get past our jaggedy edges and mis-matched parts. It is his work, not ours. We are his, not our own. When we’re in charge of our own self-improvement, there’s pressure. We need to evaluate how well we’re doing, often reliant on others to give us the feedback we crave. If we relinquish ourselves to the Lord, in all the wondrous mystery of our clutter-filled selves, we’re released from that burden. We’re able to live free from the determined drive to fix ourselves (and others perhaps). We’re free to live in the fullness of hope. Not just hope that one day my temper will be subdued (although I do hope for that), but a life-enriching, expansive hopefulness that hopes in something far far greater than my own inner-equanimity. And so rather than being frustrated with the parts of ourselves that we don’t quite know where to place, may these inner odd-socks serve to remind us that our state of internal disarray isn’t to be feared, or sorted, rather submitted. For dependency is the only place disarray can really call home. Still don’t know what to do with the socks though. Thank you again to my friend Ros Boydell for sharing her wisdom so creatively. Besides appreciating her message, I always love learning new words, like guddle meaning “in a state of confusion or disorder …” (Dictionary of the Scots Language). Ros and her family are on Navigator staff and live in Scotland.