In the midst of all of this busyness and chaos, all my inadequacies have become glaringly obvious. It’s funny how when you’re job is to make things happen all of the things that you CAN’T make happen seem to rise to the surface. Suddenly it’s all of these things that matter most to me- all of the things that are out of my control.

This morning, for the first time in a while, I sat down to talk to God. I had so much to tell him, so much I needed to ask him for, and so much I needed to vent to him about. When I got it all out, and went to put my journal away a piece of paper fell out. It was the prayer given to me by Sister Jo Ann from my silence retreat. I remember her telling me that God gave her this prayer for me, that I needed it, and today I know she was right.

Prayer of Teilhard de Chardin

Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are, quite naturally, impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.

We would like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new; and yet, it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability – and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you; your ideas mature gradually – let them grow, let them shape themselves, without undue haste.

Don’t try to force them on, as though you could be today what time, (that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will) will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming in you will be.

Give our Lord the benefit of believing that his hand is leading you, and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself in suspense and incomplete. Amen.

I heard Dallas Willard say that silence and solitude is a discipline of abstinence- seeing what God does when I don’t.  I want to trust that deeply. I want to believe that God’s hand is leading me. I want to resist the temptation to run from the anxiety my incompleteness produces within me. I want to see the unknown path ahead as an adventure and the moments, days, and weeks of silence I’ll embark upon as clues that will help me to unlock all of the mysteries God has in store. I want to stop and trust. I just don’t know how.

But it’s rarely like that. Every time I’ve heard God’s voice (the loud and clear times) it’s been raw and unnerving. With laser-like precision he exposes heart-wrenching truths (and lies) hiding beneath the surface, revealing a new reality through which I must now see the world, and scarier yet, myself. He’s never left me to navigate these new realities on my own, but it’s painful and exhausting nonetheless, and to be honest- I’m not sure I can handle the latest revelation. It’s too close, too real, too much a part of who I am- too ingrained in every relationship and pursuit I have. I don’t know what will be left of me if I let God into this one.

Cryptic, I know- more to come later, I’m sure.

Looking back on the last 6 months it seems ridiculous how much I have received; how much God has given me without my grabbing or pushing or prying or trying.

I was burned out on my job and he gave me permission to quit.

I needed time and space to sort through all the crap that was coming to the surface- he gave me 6 months to travel and explore and create.

I needed clarity and he gave me a week of silence and solitude.

I needed to feel passion again and he gave me a job that excites and energizes me.

I needed to take risks and he surrounded me with people who push and challenge me.

I needed him to speak to me and he did.

It’s like everyday he’s saying, “Now do you believe me? Now will you trust me? NOW will you give me the rest?” But instead I keep looking for ways to take it all back. Starting conversations that I have no business having, worrying about matters that don’t concern me, GRABBING at the life I think I should have.

Brilliant. And so on we go with this game of tug-o-war. I hate that it takes me grabbing and failing to remember to release and receive. Someday I’ll give it up, pronounce God the winner. Realize that I actually want him to win- remember that I do win when he wins.

I know now, just 2 hours into the new year, that I will fail to keep this resolution. I am certain to forget, or cower down and cover my eyes and ears and pretend this resolution was never made, and even blatantly go against this resolution out of defiance or anger, but I must make it just the same.

So, for 2010 I resolve to keep going. To keep digging, to keep seeking, to keep growing; to keep putting one foot in front of the other. This journey of knowing God and myself is just beginning, and every day I want to call it quits. It’s difficult and unpleasant, and some days I hate God for opening my eyes to all of it. But there is no going back, and I certainly don’t want to stay where I am. So I am resolving to do the only thing that’s left; keep going.

Sure, there are some specific things that I have in mind that fall under the “keep going” category; regular solitude, intentional thanksgiving and surrender, practicing spiritual and physical disciplines, and finishing some long over-due projects (read school papers), but I am resolving to count 2010 a success if I can simply keep breathing. If in the midst of my fear and confusion and frustration I can make the choice to continue, to pray and surrender rather than pout and sabotage myself I know this will be the beginning of a great decade.

This morning I made my way through the rain and cold to Starbucks to meet my friend Cez anne and my favorite red-headed 3 year old, Nik. It’s amazing how loved I feel with just those tiny arms embracing me! We sat laughing and talking and playing with all of the new iphone apps Cez and I had downloaded since our last visit. As if our time together wasn’t enough to make my day, Cez gave me the greatest gift, and honor, I’ve ever been given. She asked me to be Nik’s godparent.

I didn’t have a moments hesitation in accepting. When Nik was just an infant I spent most nights praying for him as I rocked him to sleep. I remember thinking that this little baby, this precious creature that fit so snugly in my arms, would grow up to be a man one day. He would have his own ideas and dreams and make his own choices. I remember asking God to protect him and remind him how deeply loved he was by his family and by me.  I remember praying that he would make the choice to let Jesus into his life. That he would realize the power of God’s love for him and live his life in response to that love. I remember praying that God would keep me in his life, to be someone he could turn to and count on.

I have no doubt that regardless of the title “godmother,” I would have always played a significant role in his life. I’m his Guppie! But there’s something so special about knowing this role isn’t self-imposed; that Nik’s mom wants and expects me to play a part in his spiritual upbringing, and that she views me as someone worthy to hold that title. It means so much to know that she looks at my spiritual journey and my relationship with God and sees something there that she wants her son to know about.

I am so privileged to have 6 (and a 1/2) incredible kids in my life that know me as Guppie, and now 1 that will know me as a godmother.  I hope they all see my relationship with God and want that relationship for themselves. I pray they can learn from my mistakes, and come to trust and confide in me with their own. I pray I can be someone who models God’s unconditional love for them as someone who doesn’t have to love them, but chooses to anyway.

Christmas is a spiritually charged season, and being that the last 6 months have been particularly spiritually heavy, this Christmas proved no different for me. But while most Christmas messages center around themes of salvation and reconciliation, it was God’s work of restoration that was made most visible to me this December.

In the not too distant past I was spending Christmas Eve home, alone. While my faith in God remained intact (if only barely), any faith I had in the church, in family, and in community had been shattered over the months leading up to December. This festive season that used to fill my heart with so much joy and blissful anticipation had become dreaded; every Christmas song and tree, all of the lights and decorated houses reminded me of the tremendous loneliness and loss lurking in my heart. That familiar “Christmas feeling” was an unfortunate, added casualty. All of the things that had always signified Christmas to me were gone. Where would I find Christmas if not on stage, at church, singing my favorite Christmas songs? What would Christmas be without my family gathering to open gifts together? What would Christmas mean without my closest friends to watch cheezy claymation Christmas movies with? At that point I just gave up. I resolved to “get through it”any way I could. I knew there would be no restoring of this holiday; no rejoining of my family, no returning to said church, and no chance of reviving those friendships.

What I didn’t know then is that God’s ability to restore goes far beyond the limits of what my mind can conjure. He is far too creative to simply restore me to my former “glory,” He takes the best of the old and makes it new.

During the years my parents were together, my sister and I tolerated each other at best. Since their divorce, she and I have grown closer than I ever would have dreamed possible as a child. God has restored my sense of family through my relationship with my sister.

For years I believed my time singing (at church or anywhere else) was over. This Christmas I was so humbled to be a part of the Christmas Eve services at my new church. But it isn’t just the church location that has changed for me- it’s my heart. God has restored my sense of worship and given me an outlet and people who cultivate my creativity and my passion for singing.

And while I miss those who were a part of my old community most at this time of year, I can’t help but thank God for the way He has restored and renewed my understanding of what true friendship is, and surrounded me with people who have loved me through all of the grief and pain and loss of the last 4 years. The people who have really stuck by me.

My vision of restoration always involved a returning to the way things used to be. But God doesn’t care about restoring my circumstances, He cares about restoring my soul. He’s still restoring my soul. He’s restoring me to the Cathi He originally created. The Cathi that’s been covered up and bowled over by others, and by myself. I’m still having a difficult time understanding this whole concept, but I’m beginning to see glimpses. And I think the first glimpse was Christmas.

My 90 day journey of fearless living was fruitful, but proved to simply be a catalyst for what is sure to be a much longer journey. I’m learning that discovery of your true self and discovery of God are intimately linked; you can’t find One without the other. If I could have things my way I would take out discovery of myself all together. Mustering up the courage to dig around in the broken, ugly places is difficult. Theoretically beneath all of that crap I will find the unique, lovable, beautiful woman that God already sees, but right now the lies have the upper hand. I’ve spent 27 years with these lies; they’ve been my truth as long as I can remember. They’ve sustained me and brought me comfort when the truth was too much to bear. But things have changed. I’ve changed. The lies can’t contain all of who I am anymore, or all that I was created to be. The perfect world that I carefully crafted so long ago is crumbling around me. I feel exposed and vulnerable and lost. I don’t know how to navigate this new reality.

It would be easy for me to share part of my journey here. To share only the good parts, or the neat and tidy parts; the parts I have figured out. But I think that’s how I wound up here in the first place. I’ve spent the last 10 years coming up with ways to share only the neatly packaged parts of myself. I’ve mastered the art of false vulnerability. If I share my weaknesses and fears with you, but only those I’m sure you’ll identify with, or those I think I actually have a handle on, well, that’s not vulnerability at all. That’s self-protection. That’s me trying to get you to like me. That’s me creating a new mask. No. I can’t do that. It’s all or nothing (which is why there has been so much nothing lately). So, this will either be a place where I continue to be honest, or it will remain an empty space containing brief moments of honesty from the past few months. I hope it to be the former. Stay tuned.

I spent today at the beach; the small, warm waves lapping the eastern coast quite a change from the overhead surf in Southern California, not to mention how weird it was that North was to my left. I sat in my chair looking out over the vast expanse of blue and I waited. I contemplated the shapes of the clouds. I watched a family build a sand castle. I buried and unburied my feet in the sand a couple times, and I kept waiting.

“Where is he?” I kept thinking. “Something’s not working. Maybe, I need to get in the ocean.” So I did. I waded into the comfortable 70 degree water and let the waves envelop me. I shut my eyes, let my palms skip across the surface, and there, in the water I continued to wait and listen to the sound of… well, nothing.

True, I’ve only been here two days, but what’s the hold-up? I’ve done everything I know to do. I traveled far from home, I went out into nature, I was quiet and undistracted (well, when I wasn’t checking my Facebook and Twitter). I created the perfect scenario for God to speak; all the usual conditions were there. The only difference? This time I need him to speak.

This is the way it’s always worked. Sure, it’s never been intentional on my part, but logic would lead me to conclude that if I put myself in a similar situation, certainly I would hear from God, right? I have so many questions I’m need him to answer. So many fears I need him to calm. I need comforting! I need reassurance! I need provision! Feeling utterly defeated and discouraged I trekked back to the house where I sat on the back porch overlooking the lagoon for a good hour, hoping maybe I just had the wrong body of water. Apparently God wasn’t into lagoons today either.

I was quite a sorry sight. Pathetic, really, pouting my way through the rest of the day until I finally accepted the reality that I would not be hearing from God today. I resigned myself to a good book, and as good books often do this one was quick to point out the glaring flaw in my thinking. True, I may have a real need to hear from God, to be comforted, and to see his provision, but these needs are all secondary to my need to know him. To know him and experience who he is- I have no greater need! Had I not been busy whining about his silence I could have been reflecting on his beauty and greatness. Had I not been so busy trying to tune out the sounds of the ocean and the birds I could have listened to God’s creation singing peace over me, revealing more of his goodness and his presence. Instead I turned God into a commodity, there to fulfill my needs and wants in my time and in my way.

This is only the first leg of my journey, and I’m sure that in the midst of these many adventures I will, in fact, hear from God, but hopefully I won’t be so concerned with his voice that I miss the rest of him. Hopefully.

So I’m on pause.

Figuring out if I want it badly enough to risk losing it.

Or, more importantly, to risk actually getting it.

I’ve sat and stared at the lyrics and played through the chords, but I can’t seem to find a verse that fits. So much of me wants to shove it aside and forget about it. I’m tired of trying to find the words. My head hurts. My eyes are blurring from staring at the blank page. But there’s something about this song. I can’t shake it. It may be just a chorus, but it’s a chorus that plays in my mind all day, every day. It’s begging for the perfect verse to set it up, for a bridge that builds in anticipation until the chorus returns as a monumental exhale.

There are two things about this song that scare me. 1) That I NEVER find the verse. That these 6 lines haunt me for eternity, a constant reminder of my failure to complete them. 2) That I discover these perfect verses and the ideal bridge only to find that the song is really not that great after all. But there is a third possibility; this obscure notion that I really have something here! The song has so much potential. The chorus- it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to write in a worship chorus. It’s beautiful and simple and so, well, beyond me- I hardly feel right taking credit for it.

Now the inspiration is waning and I’m left to my own creative devices. Somehow songwriter’s block seems so much more difficult than plain old writer’s block. I can’t settle for an “ok” verse or a bridge that just “works.” Something about this song is demanding the very best; my very best. All of my fears are screaming that I don’t have it in me, that I should give up. But that’s what this whole 90 day experiment is about, right? Defying my fears, pushing myself beyond my limits, and exploring my creativity and gifts to become all that God made me to be. I don’t know what my next step in this process will be. I’ve never found myself at this point with a song, especially a song that reaches so deep within me. I think that’s what makes it so scary and so exciting- the idea that something truly great may actually lie within me, just waiting to be discovered.