Just Show Up.

About a year ago, I had the opportunity to walk alongside a woman who was legitimately seeking a change in her life.  She had been homeless for a number of years, and seen the rougher side, so to speak.  Drugs, prostitution, physical deterioration, emotional deterioration and the worst- alcohol.  It was the demon that still chased her.  I asked if I could drive her to detox, and one weekday found myself on I-5 heading to south Seattle to drop her off at detox.  In between slurs and what seemed like some hesitancy as to why I was helping her, I got pieces of her story.  It was riveting and heart-breaking to me.  It’s a life I’ve never known.

The one thing she kept saying to me was, “I can’t believe you showed up,” and “thank you for showing up.”  I couldn’t shake the thought.  I silently wondered how many people had “showed up” for her in life.  And how many times she’d been burned, disappointed, and had her trust broken.  I sat as a Midwestern girl from a healthy family, just walking with her, savoring every moment in this new experience of learning about the detox and addiction world.  Thanks for showing up…..it still reverberates in my being.

Fast forward to tonight.  Our church body hosted a memorial for a homeless man who died last Friday after falling back into some of his own addictions.  To some he was just a homeless man, a drunk.  To others, he was a man going through a radical transformation inside his heart.  To some, a person & life worth remembering, telling stories about.  To others, an event to skip (and this isn’t a judgment on priorities, I do realize people have lives, and aren’t as connected as I might be to this situation).  It wasn’t an easy situation to deal with.  There weren’t clean cut lines.  But there was a Gospel message to feed the soul, and there was chili & soup to feed the stomach.

For what it’s worth (and really, what it’s worth only to me) those of you who “showed up” tonight- you have my respect.

Your character was revealed in how you treated the “least of these.”

You just showed up.

Thank you…

when it hits

Sometimes when something hits you- a moment, a dream, a reality- it really hits you.  It knocks you down because it’s real, more real than you might have even wanted it to be.

And there it sits- a moment lying there, bare naked, with all of its truth.

And there you sit, ceasing to be a superhuman with everything put together.

And you remember the reality of your skin and bones.  The reality of your emotions.  Because yes, your armor, too, can suffer a chink.  You still get wounds.  You still break.  And there you sit.

And there you sit.

12am

Every once in a while, the 12am’s see a few tears because they’re just that hard.

Some Things My Wish List

Okay, so I have never written a blog post quite like this.  But the other day at my nannying job I was thinking/giggling about it, so here it is.  A wish list to make life & ministry awesome in Seattle  Maybe someday I’ll do a bucket list (that sounds fun!).

-IPhone 4 (I think it’s time to step up, gotta get off the big bro’s plan)

-MacBook Pro (Streamlined life? Synched calendars, reliable computer- I say yes!)

-Black Moleskin soft cover journals (New love)

-Flip camera (brilliant, I want one so badly when I’m out on Aurora with an “idea”)

-Lots of Black Sharpie Pens (Also a new love)

-Funding towards a new wardrobe (I’m pretty good at garage sales, even!)

-Chronological Study Bible (the NKJV seems to be the best, even full color)

-Loads of Starbucks gift cards (so I can take people out to coffee and make them feel loved)

-A plane ticket to go on an international adventure to somewhere warm & beautiful

-Seattle to have Sunny days 3/4 of the year (it is a dream)

Clearly some are more realistic than others, but there you go- another slice of pie in the life of Casey.

Cheers to Monday’s!

Beauty again.

Hello readers (if there are any of you left).  This blog is having a major identity crisis-that’s why you don’t see me on here much anymore.  I’ve been moving on to new writing horizons, so to speak.  Fresh air, new experiences, different audience.  Not that I am a big deal,  I just can’t be a hindered writer, and I feel a bit hindered here- a bit conflicted as to who I am writing for.  So, the few entries will be sweet ones.  I’m savoring them, and hope you will as well.

Beauty is in the essence of the feminine soul. She was created to radiate the unhindered beauty in the depths of the heart of God.  And it’s been messed with by the Evil One.  Manipulate and twisted to be so cheapened.  Yet, not without the possibility of redemption.

Beauty.  I can’t escape it.  I love the beauty of this world. Graphic design, nature, canvases, people, retaining walls in a garden- all of it.  The last two days have provided me a desperately needed break from the pace of the last 3 months.  And what I have found myself drawn to is creativity and beauty.  Fresh life is coming into my soul.  Just today I was walking in Lincoln Park, walking the dogs as  I am house-sitting.  I was talking to God about some difficult things in my life.  Some things I had screwed up in.  Some things I was confused about.  Mostly wanting to know God’s love.  Afraid my sin could make me step outside the reach of His love.  In the midst of straining, praying, confessing, I looked up and saw a beautifully blossoming cherry tree. It was perfect.  Delicate, vividly pink blossoms were pitted against the backdrop of the stormy gray Puget Sound. Wet, darkened bark reached out like strong arms supporting the inspiring color. The waves were gently crashing against the rocky, log-jammed beach.   I was amazed.  Amazed that my God continually shows me such beauty in my life, in the midst of sometimes what I feel is the messiness and utter imperfection of my life.  It spoke to my very soul. I was worshipping God for the beauty of the nature in Seattle.  How is it that I even get to live here?

How does such beauty still exist? At times, I feel so undeserving of any of it. How does beauty move me so? How do I even get eyes to take this in?  And why can’t I do it more consistently?  Beauty is very closely assimilated with grace and love in my life.  As I watch my Father God pursue me through these trees, this ocean, these people, I am reminded that I am loved beyond measure.  That is grace.  That is love.  I feel as though I am experiencing one of the very reasons I was created.  And I’m not “doing” anything.  I am simply responding to that which already exists.  Pausing, stopping, noticing something that I desperately desire to radiate.  Yes, I am worshipping.

A note to the men (if there are any) reading this:

Pursue her beauty.  When you are with her, pursue her beauty.  Pursue it holy and wholly.  Let is push you into intimate pieces of the heart of the Father. Ask her what she finds beautiful.  Ask her what she is experiencing as she stares at the flowers, the perfection of colors in the forest, the towering cedars, the gentle or powerful waves of the ocean, the faces of the broken, the colors of a canvas.

Be keenly aware, that as she experiencing beauty- as she is still & staring, as she is singing, as she is loving deeply, as she is giving of her time,  as she is wrapped up in beautiful environments- she is experiencing the very things she is created for.   She is fully worshipping.  And if you are involved in a relationship with her, do not worship her.  Don’t make her or her body the ending place of your affection.  Worship alongside her in these beautiful places.  Stand with her in awe of the heart of God who created it all.  Realize in these moments that she is completely star-struck.  Her experience of beauty is so transcendent, she feels almost perfectly complete.  She feels fully alive in those moments.  Her heart, mind, and even soul feel aligned and “right.”  So stand with her.  Hold her hand.  Listen. Worship.  Walk with her through this process of redeeming beauty.

“You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of the dust,  You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of us” -Gungor

that is a man

What impresses me most is not the man who is fearless,

(for I know none)

but the one who rises first

to step up, to step out, to lead,

to protect, to lay on hands,

despite his fears.

What impresses me most is not the man who feigns no insecurity

(for I know none)

but the man who is vulnerable in his admittance

his weakness, his openness

for that is real strength.

the one who is humble,

yet steps out

the one who is gentle,

yet fierce

the one who is only honest

the one who only Pursues

the one who is only full of character

the one who stands in front of her,

defending, absorbing the blows

and behind her

sustaining, catching fears

that one-

that is a man.

my favorite prayer

I know I’m only 26 years old, but I’ve made a discovery recently.  I’ve discovered my best prayer, my favorite prayer (which I think is going to continue for the rest of my life) is when I literally or metaphorically hit my knees and in the stillness of my being, say to God-

I’M MISERABLE WITHOUT YOU.

Somehow things feel figured out.

hemorrhage

I once heard a leader tell me

if you want people to bleed, you have to hemorrhage

I once heard a worship leader say that

70% of your leadership comes from the expression of your body movements

I like both concepts a lot.

Because sometimes the most passionate things, the most violent things resonate with us most

And I long to be a woman who resonates for Kingdom sake.

7,000 thoughts

….that’s about how many it feels like are rolling around in my brain right now.

The hard thing about blogging is that it’s hard for me to do it consistently (big surprise), but most of the time, the way I figure out life is by chewing on small chunks of information- quotes, pieces of conversation, observations for a long time, processing them in what I’ve come to realize is a very systematic way, then make a conclusion.  Then it has to come out to get it straight.  Writing, speaking, whatever form it takes.  Sometimes it’s just hard to track all of those thousands of things on a daily basis.  Yet, I believe that space is really where life is.  It’s this journey of working hard to process something, and make a decision that moves you forward.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a place in life where I’m more concerned with moving forward than I am right now.

Moving forward is a tough thing to intentionally do.  I mean, time is always moving forward, right?  We wear the lines on our faces, the rings on the fingers, and tell the new stories.  BUT ARE WE ACTUALLY GROWING?  Are we actually changing, developing, maturing, or are we moving through time and space just taking up space?  Finding comfort in what we used to, maybe under a new guise?

I ask these questions because I ask them to myself.  I’ll say it again- it takes a lot to actually move forward in life. We live in this existence that demands routine in some respects- the safety that comes from setting intentional boundaries with our time, our relationships, our bodies.  In fact, I once heard my pastor say that freedom comes as a result of strategic boundaries.  It doesn’t come from letting everything loose, letting emotions run the show, or “going with the flow.”  I’m starting to agree more and more.

Over the past few months (probably largely because of my moving into a dating relationship with a young man from Maine) I’ve realized a lot about boundaries in my own life.  I tend to push them.  While that in and of itself can lead to growth, it can also be detrimental.  It’s this awkward tension in my life where I have an almost violent fear of settling or getting wrapped up in “the dailies” (routine) because I think it can often breed complacency, especially spiritually. That’s something I don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole. And so often, I see the Spirit moving in my life in ways that are so “out of the box” and out of any kind of routine, that I’ve grown to love it.  But then I look at my time, my money, my relationships and see how much a lack of boundaries wrecks things- steals people’s destiny I’ve heard someone say.

So the tension exists.  Routine is good.  Routine can breed complacency.  I am trying to figure out how to live somewhere in between.  And inbetween is hard for me.  I guess I just have to admit it to myself, maybe that’s easier to do in a blog.  Inbetween is one of the hardest things for me to internally deal with.  It feels very lukewarm to me.  Unresolved. Kind of like a surface level conversation.  I’m a little more used to fire or ice. But I think I’m slowly and sometimes painfully coming around to something….some new ideas, some new realizations about the necessity of living a free life, an intentional life, and therefore a life with healthy routines and boundaries.  I’m really hoping my fears of “settling” throughout this process are absolved by the fruit of the changes that are made.  And I’m pretty sure I can’t do the process alone.  I’m trying to grow.  Sometimes scared, sometimes feeling the pain of the sheers from being pruned, sometimes enjoying what’s coming out as a result.

…some more

Fast forward a couple of months.  It was late August (my birthday) and I chose to celebrate it on Aurora, inside a community garden God has allowed us to begin to build (a future blog will explain this).  We simultaneously did a bit of a grand opening to the public that night.  Truth is, I wanted my birthday party there because I’m invested there.  I believe in it.  So, this plot of earth that once hosted a house that burned to the ground because someone was cooking drugs literally transformed for one night into a place from my dreams.

Soft white lights were strung, zig-zagging in the open air.  The last string were the most special. They were cafe style lights (reminding me of Italy, even though I’ve never been there), bigger than Christmas lights, half the size of a regular light bulb.  My friend Katie, from Minnesota, had sent them to me in one of the best mail packages I’ve ever received.  She had been out here visiting around the time we started meeting business owners for the block party I’ve spoken of in previous posts. While she was out here, I kept preaching at her about how important I believe beauty is to the power of the Gospel.

Here’s why.  I believe that when people see something beautiful, they are moved.  Period.  Since the dawn of creation, beautiful things have had this mysterious and very spiritual power to speak into the deepest places of human lives. So often when I am experiencing or staring at something I would call “beautiful” I am keenly aware that I am experiencing Something Divine.  Beauty transcends circumstances, difficulties, the hum-drum everyday life, the pavement we walk on-even our skin and bones.  Some of  the most influential people in my life are those who have brought beauty into my life, and opened my eyes to the humbling reality that beauty exists inside my own life.  Out of those circumstances, I began to understand a lot about my own worth.  So, I believe that when others experience beauty, they also have an opportunity to understand who they are & what they are worth- loved beings, treasured creations of Christ.  I want that for Aurora.  I want that for the people in my life.  I want that for the world.

Needless to say, the garden was a beautiful expression in and of itself that night.  I walked in to the soft white lights while a cd with the likes of Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Nat King Cole played classily in the background.  A stage was set up for future live music with a white canopy and my special lights underneath off to the side.  It was magical.  My prayer going into this night, and as I’ve walked the soil in the garden over and over has been that people would experience the love & beauty of Christ through this space.  There’s something special when the love of Christ invades an atmosphere of beauty- people change.

Some of the first people I ran into that night was-you guessed it- Bob & Sue.  They came to celebrate!  I walked up and hugged both of their tired, dirty yet very happy bodies.  That’s when Sue told me she had a present for me. First she handed me two coupons for a place to eat in Ballard.  I have no idea how she got them. Then, with shaky hands, she pulled a single red rose out of a recycled white plastic bag.  From fingernails filled with earth, hands with dirt & tobacco, breath with a little bit of alcohol, came this blood-red, perfect rose wrapped so it wouldn’t wither.  Talk about a humbling moment.  She whispered to me she had “stolen” it from the school- where they live outside every night.  I wasn’t worried.  School wasn’t in session.

I put the flower on display in a glass above the stage for everyone to see.  And that is where I stood perched for most of the night-  overlooking a crowd filled with love- real love.  Couples were hugging, some even danced, people were laughing that deep kind of sincere laugh from the soul.  I just swayed myself to the music from up above, so content.  Bob & Sue were in the crowd the whole night.  Transformed garden.  Beautiful atmosphere.  People lit up.

The most powerful moment of the night was towards the end.  My friend Dave had been singing the whole night and Bob & Sue wanted to know if I would go sing.  So, I announced to the crowd I had a song.  I asked Bob & Sue to come to the front of the stage.  And I started into the microphone telling them the story of the night I wrote the song after encountering Bob outside of Starbucks when he was crying.  I talked about how the power of love impacted me so deeply in that moment. Then, under a darkened summer sky with gentle white lights, I sang the song to them.  They stood at the front of the stage, the rest of the crowd in a semi-circle behind.  It was so soft and quiet, right next to Aurora which usually screams for all the attention.  Bob was crying, we all hugged.  Something about allowing them to experience such beauty and such dignity in that moment felt so right inside of me.

Beauty.  Images of beauty.