Christmas/Chanukah Beauty

I'm celebrating the artistry of God; how magical is His creation.  Today as I was walking a hiking trail I found a long patch of wild lavender and the aroma swept me away.  I wanted to lie down in it (the bees may not have apreciated that. haha)  Lavender not only has the sweet purple blooms, but the delicious calming aroma.  Just breathing in the lavender was like taking a journey into a place of sweet peace.  Then as I walked further I found wild fennel and wild rosemary.  I plucked a couple sprigs of rosemary and leaves of fennel and hiked carrying them under my nose breathing in their pungent freshness like someone intoxicated.  Even the scrub and the cactii seemed to glow in the shards of light between the barren branches of trees surrounding the trail.  I like hiking hills because I like the workout, but the real thrill is the splay of sun on my face, the perfumes of the wild, the sound of birds, wind and silence-- and the solitude with God.  The trail is my sanctuary. 

But then I could say wherever I am is my sanctuary-- the writing studio, the easel, the car, the gym, wherever, because where we are, God is, right?  Right.  How blessed we are to be able to tap into His wonders and experience His creation.

Of course, we're all stunned it's already the Christmas season, and you should see the decorations and lights on the homes around here.  Lighted reindeer with bobbing heads, giant blow-up snow men, forests of lighted plastic Christmas trees, santas on roofs, lights dripping from every eave and window ledge; singing mailboxes, oh it's a wonder.  Me, I usually get into the spirit with a wreath on the door, pointsettas on the steps, but it always seems the Christmas season happens when I'm in the middle of a writing deadline or else in the throes of school finals, and it takes me a while to get into the mode.  I love Jesus 365 days a year, and celebrate the glory and beauty of His birth 365 days a year, but Christmas involves a ton more  responsibilities and work, doesn't it?  I look forward to the day when December shows up on the calendar and I don't have a thing to do all month except prepare for, and enjoy Christmas (in another lifetime, right?).
Have you ever found yourself still shopping on Christmas Eve?  And then, don't forget Chanukah, December 1-9.  We light the first candles on Day One.  This is such a wonderful holy time, so much less stressful, and so beautiful.  We sing, we play the dreidel, we give gelt to the children (so they learn how give) and we dance-- and we EAT.  Oi vay, we eat very oily food, and also dairy food. 

I'd love to hear how you handle this season; I mean the stress of it.  Do you recognize Chanukah?  Ae you ready for Santa?  How is Jesus (Yeshua) treating you?  I'm sending you sweet peace and love--

Alone with God

   The Lord is doing a new thing and He wants His children in on it.  I am in a set-apart place, away from the mainstream, separate from the loudness of the world and its busy-ness.  It's a place of quiet and work.  I'm writing my new book, alone with God and my work-- but I'm not without trials.  Constant interruptions, problems surround me left and right, yet I feel in the midst of all storms I can create my own private sancutary and retreat.  We don't always need the bucolic bliss of solitude beside a mountain stream, or a month at the seashore-- we can create our own retreat in the midst of the storm, like the cleft of the rock.  I think I'd like to name my writing studio "Cleft of the Rock."  I've been calling it my Upper Room, but it's more than that.  My Upper Room has congealed to the size of a pocket cleft, yet by the Spirit of God, embraces the entire world. 
   I can do nothing without Him.  The truth is, I don't want to do anything without Him.  How foolsih would that be?  I'm accustomed to separating myself from the world and locking myself away with the Lord Jesus alone-- this is nothing new-- yet, somehow this time set apart from the world around me, it feels fresh and new, like it's the first time I ever fasted and prayed.  I miss the woods and the hills and the sunrises and sunsets, but up here in my attic studio, I am with Him, alone with Him, and that's better than anything.

I've been travelling this past weekend-- and I've seen enough of airplanes and airports to last me at least two weeks (when I travel again)--  I have been working off-and-on at a collection of travel stories and one of them deals with the way people eat when away from home.  Have you ever noticed the truck loads of junk food in airports and the hoards of people gobbling it up?  I wonder if we don't just lose our minds when we're between two points.  It's somewhat the same when when we're on vacation.  (not that I'm EVER on vacation!  I'm not sure what that means--)  But I've noticed when I'm in a town speaking or when tourists come to our town, anything goes in the food department.  "Pass the junk, I'm temporarily insane,"  seems to be the credo.  I can usually tell the locals because they're the ones eating salads and no dessert.  The tourists are packing away the deep fried fish and mud pie. 
I had long airport delays and lay-overs this trip, and when I realized I had to eat something I found myself in that vacant-head mode and ordered food I simply NEVER eat.  (I'm a sort of a quasi-health food guru-- you know, the carrot-carrying party-poop with celery in her ears and everything organic and whole grain?--)  So there I am in the Travers City airport with three hours to kill and I'm eating cherry pie.  (The last time I ate cherry pie was probably when I was four.)  I had to run to  find a mirror to see if I was the same person.   I had a sudden craving for french fries and I noticed everyone around me was wolfing in unhealthy, greasy, sugary, gluey food too-- faces empty, eyes stuck to screens of past football games on the many TV monitors.  I tell you, travel is not just about getting from here to there, it's about maintaining a sense of self and purpose.  I said no to the french fries, bought a bottle of water (a 10cent bottle of water is $3.49 in airports-- don't get bitter)  and found a seat in the boarding area to work on my book.
The book I'm currently working on is a true story-- heart-wrenching and shocking.  I'll tell you all about it as soon as I'm nearing its completion.  Please pray for me-- send up a "Help her, Jesus" as I plug away on it.
Here's sending you love and health and good choices--

     Who is a heroine?  As much as I'm impressed with Joan of Arc if I had a choice I'd probably choose to hang out with Mother Teresa.   And if you had a choice of who to live next door to-- Queen Esther,  Mother Angelica or Joyce Meyer, who do you think you'd run over to borrow a cup of sugar from?  Which one would answer the door, or invite you in for a cup of tea?  And if  you had a choice of who to sit next to on an airplane, would it be Amy Semple McPherson, Kathryn Kuhlman or Wendy Alec?  Which one would share her chips with you, engage in a conversation, ask about your family?  And if you had a serious problem you needed help with, which Bible character would you like to sit down with you?--  Miriam, the sister of Moses;  Sarah, the wife of Abraham; Mary Magdelene, or Priscilla?   Who do think could be a true gal pal or your best friend?--  Deborah, Elizabeth, Heidi Baker, Sarah Palin?
     I think of the famous women of faith who have made their mark in history and I wonder how many of them would want to know me.  When you name your favorite Bible heroine, do you think she'd want to  be your friend?  We admire them, but do you think she would admire us?  Is our favorite Bible heroine the kind of woman who would care about our lives as much as her own?
     How about our contemporaries?  I have the privilege of knowing and spending time with some of our most well-known female leaders, and there certain qualities they each share.  One: they're busy.  (It's a given.  Famous people are busy.)  Two:  they're vitally concerned with their own ministry and calling.  Three:  they're anointed with favor.  I could add a fourth quality because I've observed those who are the most genuine and pure-hearted in their life and work are blessed with a godly wisdom that is really wonderful. and refreshing.  I love being around people who are kind, caring and also wise.
     I'm truly thankful to know great women of faith who are not world famous, but who are huge influences in my life.  My personal Bible favorites like Deborah and Ruth, brave women, are treasured in my heart, but the true heroines in my life are my friends, the ones who pray for me, love me and actually care about me, my life, my family, my calling.  These are the ones I appreciate, want to honor and celebrate the most. 
     Being on the stage performing in plays and musicals is a wonderful career, but when the curtain comes down there needs to be a true friend waiting in the wings to walk home with.  When I was in the theatre I found that friend in the Lord Jesus, my true hero.  In every woman whom I consider a heroine I will always see His face, hear His heartbeat, and rejoice in the beauty of His presence.

Yom Kippur 2010

Happy New Year to us all!  There's a wonderful Jewish song that talks about things being better next year, which is kind of the DNA of Jewish thinking.  Things will always be better, God willing.  Oi.  Have some apple dipped in honey for a sweet New Year.  This is my favorite time of year because I absolutely love Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement.  To me it all speaks of what Jesus (Yeshua) did on the cross for us.  Late tonight I danced away in the kitchen to the beautiful, exhuberant Hebrew songs and my kids watched somewhat amazed (disinterested is more like it) -- but with my Jewish blood I can't help myself.  I love the Israeli dancing, love it, love it.  When I dance in the circle with other dancers it's like personifying the wind.  Jesus (Yeshua) is the Lord of Dance-- I imagine He must have loved to dance. I know He danced because all Jews all over the world at least dance the Hora.
Kol Nidre, which is sung on Yom Kippur, asks God to forgive us of the sins we may commit in the coming year. We bless one another with the words, Leshanah tovah tikateiv veteichateim, "May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year."   We toss from us the sins and shortcomings of the past year and start the new year with a clean slate.  The service of Tashlich has us off to the ocean, sea, lake or  river to recite the Tashlich prayers and symbolically cast our sins into the water, in evocation of the verse, "And You shall cast their sins into the depths of the sea."  This takes some serious honesty with onesself and the walk in holiness before the Lord.  To me the active practice of ridding ourselves of past defeats, sins, failures is quite beautiful.  In my former practice as a psychotherapist I would have certain patients physically engage in the act of writing out their faiures, sins, shameful deeds guilt-producing acts, thoughts -- on pieces of paper and then tossing them  into a fire ( I didn't have a lake or river in the office) -- and together with therapy and the Holy Spirit, miracles happened in these dear people's lives.  (We tend to remember experiences that we take an active part in.)
Placed under the blood of Jesus, the One who is our atonement, makes these ancient Jewish High Holy days rich and freeing-- makes forgiveness so incredibly beautiful.  I know that as followers of Jesus we are under Grace now -- and I know "religion" puts us under a sort of bondage-- but we would do good to look at the beauty of these High Holy Days, and indeed all the feasts and festivals, and feel their deep spiritual embrace.  
So what has Yom Kippur have to do with a life in the theatre, you may wonder.  My answer to that question? --Everything.  Yeshua, our Atonement, releases us to be all that we can be in Him on this earth.  You and I were destined for freedom, saved by His Grace-- no longer forced to carry the weight of the world on our backs.   Wow.  Leshanah tovah .  Happy New Year.  May you be inscribed and sealed for a truly good year.

Welcome Home

Welcome home. 
I knew I was home and okay with the Lord when I saw the fresh expansiveness of one Ethel Barrett.  She showed me I wasn't weird or outrageous even though I could sing and dance and act. God was okay with who I was!  I had tried hard to be what I thought the Lord preferred-- a girl in a high-buttoned shirt with head bowed, hopefully with some talent at the piano.  I took piano lessons, but after months of practicing six hours a day it became clear I'd never lead worship anwhere.  I wrote, of course; I always written poems and stories -- I wrote for magazines and Christian newspapers, I wrote children's church curriculum, I wrote a line of gift cards, I wrote radio and television scripts, but I never thought of myself as a writer -- that is, until my first book was published:  City Pslams (Moody Press),  a book of poetry that the Chicago News named Poetry Book of the Year.  I'd been writing poetry since I could remember-- and now here I was, published and recognized.  This was shocking.  I bought a pair of glasses to look more intellecutal and poet-y, and staggered around dizzy as a clock.  The glasses actually made me nauseous.
I put away my tap shoes and my toe shoes and pulled out the (gasp) typewriter!  (Yes, typewriter.  One of my young writing students asked me the other day if I knew how one of those things worked.  I laughed, shrugged-- how could this boy understand that I had actually composed two full-length 300-page books on a typewriter?)   You may not believe this, but our book & tape order department in my ministry offfice uses a typewriter to type labels.  The orders we send out go with love, let me tell you.
'Til next time--
 Dancing IN the stars--
Marie

A SURPRISE A DAY

Every day brings new surprises. I remember when I was in Bible college there was a woman named Ethel Barrett who recorded children’s stories, and since my ministry was focused on children, writing for children, performing for children, leading junior churches, child evangelism, etc., I listened to her tell Bible stories more than most kids. I loved Ethel Barrett and learned much from her. She said something in an interview that I have never forgotten. She said if she had one piece of advice to give it would be to find the adventure in every day. Well! Adventure! Every day! (That’s fine for you to say, Ethel, but the rest of us--) She said she looked for a surprise in every day. (So typical for a children’s story teller, right?) But because I was a good student, and because I loved children, and because I loved Ethel Barrett, I decided to show the Lord how much I loved Him by taking her advice.


It worked. I can’t think of a day in my life that hasn’t brought at least one surprise. I call them blessings, I call them adventures. I call them “interesting.” I’ve even managed a way to find depression interesting. (I write about it—I tell the story of Jonah—I dramatize – I mope around like Job wearing big sleeves—I think about scrounging up money for a taxi to the bridge—I re-consider and imagine a life tucked under the covers until Jesus comes.)  There’s a million ways to find depression amusing. – Have I told you I’m prone to depression? I mean, the clinical kind?

Okay.  Back to Ethel Barrett. She’s in her 80’s now, and her influence is still as strong as ever. She can never know how she inspired me. She was like my little beacon of hope in a male-dominated, grey, colorless world. She was feisty and smart and she wore colorful clothes and she loved God. I was coming from a lifetime in the theatre and suddenly I was implanted in a conservative Bible school where sin lurked behind every bush— Sin? They told me, a leotard-toting ballerina, that a skirt above the knee was sin. Goodness. I was accustomed to men in tights! I was born in a locker room with naked bodies rushing about looking for their revealing costumes. I played Irma in Irma La Duce. I was Lola in Damn Yankees! Okay, okay, I was now a born-again Christian and I was living to serve God and Him only, so be it. Off with the tap shoes and the toe shoes and on with the bonnet and the bow. I loved God. I was serious.

But then! Then! As I lavished my affection upon the children of Chicago and the Midwest, creating puppet shows and theatres, dancing and singing as Deborah and Moses and Martha and Mary—there appeared one Ethel Barrett.

She came to our school and spoke and in her presence I became electrified. My hair must have shot out from my head like florescent cactus fronds. I’m sure my skin turned bright neon. I was transfixed. My life was forever altered. God sent her just to me. Here before me stood a woman wearing RED and slapping our dean on the back with a “Hey, pal!” This was simply beyond my forced nun mentality. She laughed, she hooted, she guffawed – my God, there was hope for me.

She was the only woman on the platform with a gaggle of be-suited clergymen, and she was completely at home, holding her own, possessing the stage, enjoying herself and most of all, enjoying God—

And God said to me at that moment, “Welcome home.”

to be continued……