DOES GOD END?








love
love
A few springs ago I was driving on a stretch of Gary Avenue – right by Cosley Zoo. Buds were beginning to burst out of the branches and daffodils were sprouting sunshiny heads. As I drove by the petting zoo, I imagined the fluffy yellow chicks ready to break out of their vernal shells.

My five year old son, Ben, was enjoying the burst of air that blew in from his cracked window and the Kindermusic tunes on our car radio. In the middle of our springy day, and out of the blue, Ben asked, “Mama, does God end?”

I was tickled, delighted by his question. Kids come up with the most profound, insightful thoughts sometimes. Don’t they?

Does God end? I turned the question around in my mind several times, savoring its beauty and simplicity . . . not wanting to crack it; destroying its contemplative shell.

“Does God end?” Ben asked again, getting a bit impatient.

Instead of blurting out an emphatic “No . . .He goes on forever!” I began to think about the times in my life when I’d felt as if God had come to an end.

-During a seemingly endless string of lonely single years – when I longed for a husband but instead ate most of my meals alone, slept alone, and worried about my proverbially ticking biological clock.

-During a season in my early thirties when a degenerative disc caused so much pain in my lower back that I couldn’t sit, or lie down or even stand . . . but, had to pace in circles around my home in order to slightly remit the pain.

-AND, during the season of sadness that, due to the back degeneration, prohibited me from getting pregnant and adding a deeply longed-for third child to our family.

“MOHHHHM!” Ben interrupted my reminiscing, asking yet another persistent time, “Does God end?”

Through the car’s rearview mirror, I looked into my son’s inquisitive chocolate brown eyes, “Sometimes, when we go through tough times in our lives it can feel as if God has ended, Honey. Remember when snow was covering the ground and we were sledding down our favorite hill?”

“Yah,” he said.

“During the dead of winter, we couldn’t imagine that buds were hiding inside all the bare snow covered branches. Could we?!”

“Nope,” he agreed, shaking his head.

“But now that spring is here, we realize that Life goes on – just like God – even when things seem dead and frozen to us.”

Ben seemed satisfied with my answer and stuck his hand out the window to glide on some cool, fresh air.

As we drove I couldn’t help thinking about ways God had brought Life to my personal winters. He broke my winter of singleness through the gift of marriage to my hunk of a hubby, Bryan. Through physical therapy and mercies new each day, a Living God helps me manage chronic back pain. And, through the life giving gift of adoption; He has given me a precious, precocious, perfect daughter.

2000 years ago, I imagine that 12 stinky fishermen – Jesus’ best friends – were asking Ben’s question: DOES GOD END? On Easter, after three days of waiting, they got their answer. God does not end. Though He submitted to death; He lives on.

After Ben and I got home, in celebration, I wrote the following poem:

CHRISTSPRING

Eternity’s harbinger roots and stems
In the turning tulips, sunny daffodils
Forsythia, hyacinth, and vernal egg

Budding, bursting, bounding forth
He rises – born new from earth’s tomb
Crowned with seed jacked, clothed in green and purple perfection:
Heavensprung Champion

Sometimes we can feel as if we’re living in a frozen, cold winter. . . even then, we can keep our eyes on spring and a God who doesn't end!

A POEM FOR THE SEASON
love









A few years ago, during Lent, I heard a sermon that wed Numbers 21 and John 3. I remember the ideas being that God redeems everything, even the most hateful, despicable, evil things. Perfect Love undoes death and disease, abuse and abandonment, poverty of body and soul.

In the Numbers passage, God commands Moses to create a bronze serpent and put it on a pole and display it in a public place. Thereafter if a real snake bit anyone, injecting its deadly venom; and the victim later looked at the bronze serpent, their life was spared.

God could've picked a daisy, a cross, or a dove to be bronzed and stuck on that pole. Instead, it was a snake: the very thing that wounded and killed. I don't particularly like snakes. But, in God's paradoxical parameters even slimy, slithering, striking snakes saves lives.

At the time I heard this sermon, I was also reading one of my favorite books, Madeleine L'Engle's GENESIS TRILOGY. Those of you who read Madeleine know that one of the through-lines in her writing is that God will not fail creation. God will redeem, restore, refresh by Love. And, all that He said was good will be . . . is . . . good.

During this season of waiting and self-examination, what is God redeeming/healing in your life by Love? And what's being bronzed and put on a salvific pole for you?

Lent

In the beginning, Word spoken
Begets moons, stars, planet earth, sun
Universe perfect, now broken

By evil snake, bringer of death
Bending truth in his native tongue
Fouling lovely and stealing breath

Moving among us on the earth
Twisting, revealing, destroying good
Healer provoked to redeem birth

A curse to women is proclaimed
Pain in labor to bring forth kin
Secretly a gift is sustained

Eden’s garden lush and fruitful
God’s breath giving new breath: a gift
Of all things green and beautiful

The curse is turned inside out and
It is good – It is ALL so good
Remains and God won’t fail this land

Even the snake high is lifted
Healing cast in bronze by Moses
Icon of the Love that’s gifted

Breath in circles and cross is lent
Twisting, turning, reeling, sealing
Grace reigns down healing deepest rent
love

ON WRITING FOR A DEADLINE

I was elbow deep in marinara at 6:30 in the morning when I realized how absurd it was that I'd decided to make several pans of lasagna before getting the kids off to school. The insanity of it all got me thinking, Why am I chopping garlic while even the sun is still sacked out? Then, a maniacal, malevolent little voice whispered, “You’re procrastinating again!”

That’s when I started making a list, a list of all the ways I procrastinate when I'm writing for a deadline. We all have surreptitious distractions. I’d love it if you’d share yours with me. Make a list (it’s actually another great way to procrastinate if you’re writing for a deadline, too).

Here’s mine:

YOU KNOW YOU’RE WRITING FOR A DEADLINE WHEN

1. You decide to make pans of lasagna for the entire neighborhood; and actually like the smell of garlic that has infused all of the curtains in your house.

2. You write the thirty best poems you’ve ever written in your life (and you’re not working on a poetry compilation).

3. You visit every possible writing website in existence, print out articles, read them and try to convince yourself that you're in the process of 'feeding yourself a sustaining inspirational meal-of-words.'

4. You get excited when you hear the buzzer go off on the drier, coffee maker, or the stove . . . when the doorbell rings, the mail arrives, or your most obnoxious neighbor stops over for coffee.
(If any of my neighbors are reading this . . . I'm not talking about YOU!)

5. You talk to your friend on the phone for four hours, analyzing a dream she had about Steven King, an auburn horse and the End Times.

6. You blog, you respond to all of your old e-mails, you check your e-mail (again). You read your friends' blogs. You check your e-mail (again). You respond to new e-mails. You check your e-mail (again and again and again and again).

7. You find Oprah particularly sagacious in an interview she’s conducting with Jim Carrey. As you watch, you’re rapt and convince yourself that this show is part of your research/incubating/character blah, blah, blah and that the exact nugget you need for your plot will probably come from this consequential hour of TV.

8. You actually look forward to exercising. Cher and Richard Simmons tapes from the 80’s are inspiring you to lose the 10 pounds you gained while eating chocolate donuts and writing the first half of your book.

9. You are awakened by wolves howling in the night. When you fall asleep you dream that your editor has grown excessive amounts of facial hair and is howling at the moon, chasing you, growling and asking where your manuscript is.

10. You take up knitting, take a trip, take your time when you walk the dog.

11. You decide to organize every closet in your house, make plans for a kitchen remodel and order seeds for the garden you’ve always dreamed of planting.

12. You make a list called YOU KNOW YOU’RE WRITING FOR A DEADLINE WHEN . . . and submit it to your favorite writing magazine.

13. You break into an anxiety induced sweat, finally put your butt in a chair, and start writing. Keys start clicking, kinks in your cerebellum unwind, words begin to flow like faucet water. You’re actually enjoying yourself when . . . your three-year-old enters your office and asks you to play!

After I posted this morning, I took my daughter Emily to breakfast at our favorite spot, The Red Apple in Wheaton. As we ate, I was thinking, Life is what happens when we're procrastinating! Isn't it?! And, Thanks be to God for procrastinating, 'cause without it our days wouldn't be bursting with fun projects, conversations, ideas and off-the-beaten-path adventures; and we might not discover our hearts' true passions. Besides, without procrastination there wouldn't be a lot to write about!

A WORD FROM JULIAN

I'm in the throes of researching and writing my latest book, a piece of creative nonfiction, titled GOD'S GIRLS: 11 Women Who Have Encountered Divine Love & How You Can, Too. As I near the end of this project and my 40th year of life, I feel as though the women in my book (the likes of Joan of Arc, The Woman of Bleeding, Harriet Tubman, Gomer, Xiao Min, Pocahontas, etc) are ushering me in to middle age, ushering me in to maturity and mystery, faith and the phantasmagoria of being a woman.

One of the chapters in GOD'S GIRLS tells the story of Julian of Norwich, Christian mystic and anchorite (a woman who lived in a cell attached to the church for her entire life, eee gads!). Today I need to hear, once again, some of Julian's words. Perhaps you need to hear them, too:

We are so preciously loved by God that we cannot even comprehend it. No created being can ever know how much and how sweetly and tenderly God loves them.

- Jullian of Norwich, 1342-1412, British Christian Mystic

Maybe, over the coming months, I'll try to share inspiring words from some of the other women featured in GOD'S GIRLS. What do you think?

MY BOOK SHELF

I just discovered a new website, thanks to my sister-in-law:

http://www.shelfari.com/.




It's a site picturing shelf after shelf of virtual books. By joining one can place her books on a cyber-shelf so friends can peruse favorite titles in a cyber-library of sorts.

My shelves on that site are bare right now. Perhaps, after my June writing deadline for GOD'S GIRLS, I'll add some book selections. For now, here's a list of a few of my favorite reads:

A LIST OF SOME OF MY FAVORITE READS:

(By the way, if you're a librarian type, forgive me. The list is in no particular order and it's definitely not exhaustive. Fiction and nonfiction are scrambled like eggs; memoirs, creative nonfiction, novels are all stirred into one big literary soufflé .)

Compassion, Henri Nouwen
Range of Motion, Elizabeth Berg
The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingslover
Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, Lisa See
The Lost Daughters of China, Karin Evans
A Thousand Pieces of Gold, Adeline Yen Mah
A Circle of Quiet, Madeleine L'Engle
The Genesis Trilogy, Madeleine L'Engle
Friends for the Journey, Madeleine L'Engle & Luci Shaw
The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell
Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Anne Lamott
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Dave Eggers
When the Heart Waits, Sue Monk Kidd
The Secret Life of the Bees, Sue Monk Kidd
Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster
A Grace Disguised, Jerry Sittser
A New Kind of Christian, Brian McLaren
In Search of Grace, Kristin Hahn
The Bonesetter's Daughter, Amy Tan
Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott
If Grace Is True, Philip Gulley & James Mulholland
The Good Earth, Pearl S. Buck
Girl Meets God, Lauren F. Winner

Please feel free to share your list of favorite books, too! I'm always looking for a good read!

PONY TAILS!!!

Joy sneaks up on us and surprises us like pollen or summer seeds that stick to our socks or a pair of cut-off jeans. It grabs a hold of us, goes along for the journey until it sprouts a smile that's soul-deep and ineffably warming.

After waiting a life-time: through an inexorably long season of singleness, two pregnancies that resulted in the birth of two bouncing beautiful baby boys, chronic back-pain, and a rigorous paper-pregnancy . . . I finally have a longed-for little girl. It is fun, frustrating and fabulous having another girl in the house. It's also immeasurably joyful. The joys of having a daughter come at unexpected times, in surprising ways.

My soul smiles when she wants to help me 'make dinner' in the kitchen each night as the boys race 'round the house or sit transfixed by video games. Joy comes when she sees me crying and pats me on the back in a distinctly feminine gesture of healing care. It also bursts into being when she wants to help me wash my hair as we're bathing together. Or when we're at the Jewel and Emily says, "Mom, can I wear your purse? Then I can be the mommy and you can be the gorgeous girl."

On Valentine's Day, it was Em's pony tails that did it. Ribboned in red and pink, bouncing sassily with her every step the pony tails got me. Intoxicated me. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. I photographed them 500 times, tried to memorize the way they caught the sun, accentuated Emily's perfectly round and distinctly animated face like two quotation marks. Joy! Pure joy!

How has joy stuck to you today? In a note from a friend? A new word on the lips of your two-year-old? A verse from the bible that spoke straight to your heart? A kiss from your man? An unexpected e-mail? Pony tails?

If you feel lead, please share some of your joy and enlarge our circle of faith & friendship!

JOY UPON JOY TO YOU AND YOURS!

love

A STORY WITH NO END

This morning, I took my three littlest Valentines to Starbucks for hot chocolate and scones - a rare & extravagant treat - in celebration of this day honoring Love. They ate their pastries and savored the sweet, warm drinks in green-labeled designer cups as we drove to school; and I serenaded the trinity of kids with a bevy of songs holding the word LOVE in their lyrics. We started with a favorite, written by one of my college music professors, Dr. Funk. Yes, that was his real name, Dr. Funk. I love it!

The jazzy tune zips along with a playful, rhyming lyric:

Hey there, Sweetie lookin' so fine.
Won't you be my Valentine?
If you say no, what'll I do?
Find another 'sead of you!

One of the last tunes in car pool recital's repertoire was a folk tune that I sing almost every night before tucking Ben, Ayden and Emily into their beds. It's called THE RIDDLE SONG. It appeals to the kids because of the riddle. It appeals to me because it's simple, beautiful and sings of a story that has no end.

THE RIDDLE SONG

I gave my love a cherry that had no stone.
I gave my love a chicken that had no bone.
I gave my love a baby with no cryin' .
I gave my love a story that has no end.

How can there be a cherry that has no stone?
How can there be a chicken that has no bone?
How can there be a baby with no cryin'?
How can there be a story that has no end?

A cherry when it's bloomin' . . . it has no stone.
A chicken when it's pippin' . . . it has no bone.
A baby when he's sleepin' has no cryin'.
A story that, "I love you" . . . it has no end.

May you live The Story of I Love You today and forever! Happy Valentine's Day!

I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
love love love love love love love love Ephesians 3:16-19

A MAGICAL PRAYER

The other day I was leafing through pages of The Book of Common Prayer looking for just the prayer to pray for one of my dear friends. During this brief spiritual sojourn I discovered A Prayer of Self-Dedication that caught my heart and eye the way my husband does when he comes through the door smelling of freshly cut wood at the end of a long day.

What I love about the prayer is that it magically takes the mundane moments of my life and makes them meaningful. It gives the daily drudgery a dose of the divine. When I say the prayer, I, in all of my humanness, feel like I'm getting a holy hug.

I plan on memorizing the benison, making it a kind of breath prayer. Perhaps some of you will join me in this. Or, maybe, you'll want to share a prayer that has been meaningful, even magical, to you.

A Prayer of Self-Dedication
Almighty and eternal God, so draw my heart to you, so guide my mind, so fill my imagination, so control my will, that I may be wholly yours, utterly dedicated to you. And then use me, I pray, as you will, and always to your glory and the good of your people. Amen

A Letter from God

The envelope was robin's egg blue. Inside was a letter from God:

Dearest Sally,

My precious daughter . . . I am so proud of you and the ways you've walked with me, especially throughout these young-mommy years. You have done much with the creative gifts I've given. What a wonderful choice I made in the beginning - entrusting you with the gift of word and Word. Seeds of truth and beauty sprinkle around the globe because of My faithfulness (and yours!). The fruit from your life is an orchard of sweet sustenance for so many.

I am writing to bless you, and to remind you that I never leave my work unfinished. I created you with a rich imagination and a poetic way with words. Your writing journey will not be aborted for two simple reasons: 1) I do not destroy that which I have created; 2) I cannot leave things incomplete.

I am a writer, too, and I know how difficult it can be to loose word in a sin-soaked world. But, I have promised that my Word will not return to me empty. Please trust that the garden of your life will bloom and grow through the cycling, weather-blessed seasons. The next writing project given will be the right one, winded and sown at the right time, so that lives will be seasoned and strengthened. The harvest is plenty, the workers few. You are being used, my faithful seed-sower.

I am water. I am wine. I am manna and miracle-maker. I call you to an even deeper place of peace and promise. Trust that what I have said is true. You bless and encourage me, dear one. Do not grow weary, but instead be strengthened by my perfect provisions.

Your vine and forever inspiration,

God

The words, written by my dear friend, stuck in the azure envelope and mailed to me, were the utterances of God for me. They landed in my mailbox during a week when I was worried, exhausted, bedraggled because it seemed that the fruit of my writing labor was shriveling on the branch.

The funny thing is that earlier that morning, I had taken my daughter, Emily, to the library for storytime. At the children's desk, I grabbed the February copy of CHICAGO PARENT MAGAZINE. (They chose one of my stories as the cover feature and I wanted to check out the layout and photographic treatment.) I stuck the magazine in my bag, enjoyed stories with Em, and once home tossed the magazine on my kitchen counter. As it landed, the magazine's robin's egg blue cover collided with - really kissed - the envelope that held my Letter from God.

Touching, the two papers of promise proved to be the exact same shade of blue. The serendipity was undeniable. It was as if God was in my kitchen saying, "I am giving you work. I am using your words. They hold all the promise of spring's bright blue vernal eggs."

Have you ever imagined what God might say to you in a letter? Use the letter beautifully penned by my friend. Replace your name and personal circumstances. Receive God's love and graces and Good Words for your life.

Or, perhaps, you have a friend in need like I was. Maybe, over the next few days, you'll find inspiration to scribble a Letter from God to her. If you do, and want to share, feel free to add your letter as a comment. I'm sure your words - on behalf of God - will be an encouragement to others who need a Good Word . . . a GOD WORD!

The Word was first,
lovethe Word present to God,
loveGod present to the Word.
The Word was God,
lovein readiness for God from day one.

The Word became flesh and blood,
loveand moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
lovethe one-of-a-kind glory,
lovethe one-of-a-kind glory,
lovelike Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
lovetrue from start to finish.

John 1:1 & 14 MSG

GRANDPA'S WATCH

Last summer my mom and I embarked on the arduous journey of sorting through decades - really lifetimes - of photographs in an attempt to create a family portrait montage for my dining room wall. Each picture was pregnant with story, each story birthed another. We talked and snacked and organized until our sides and backs ached.

As Mom was pilfering through one of her boxes, she pulled out an old watch, battered by time and use. "This was Grandpa Norberg's. He was wearing it when he died." She turned the watch in her hand, obviously taken by memories of grief and the loss of time with her father because of his sudden and tragic death. "I probably should've gotten rid of this old thing long ago."

I reached for the watch. To her it was a reminder of tragedy. To me it was treasure. Mom looked up and me and put the old watch in the palm of my hand. Immediately, I stretched its gold band and wrapped it round my wrist. Despite my grandfather's demise, when I put the timepiece on, a force seemed to reach through the time-space continuum connecting me directly to Grandpa. "I'm glad you never got rid of this watch," I said. "If you don't want it, would it be O.K. if I kept it?"

"Sure," she said. We continued our sorting, grouping, storying. Me with the watch on my wrist; Mom with sadness on her sleeve.

Seconds after donning my grandfather's watch the phone rang. I checked the caller ID. It was the number of a huge publisher who I'd just sent a manuscript to the night before. Usually it takes months for editors with their paper-tower laden desks to get back to a writer. Why was he getting back to me so quickly? And why via phone & not just the typical e-mailed rejection letter?! I looked down at my wrist. A fleck of sun glinted off of my grandfather's watch. It was as if he were looking out for me; as if our new connectedness had connected me with this aloof, elusive, super-busy editor.

The machine picked up, I listened for a few seconds, "Sally, this is blah, blah, blah from blah, blah blah . . . I got your manuscript last night and wondered if you'd have a minute or two to talk with me about it . . . "

My heart racing, I picked up the phone and strange as it may sound, as I said, "Hi . . . this is Sally," I involuntarily dropped to my knees.

"Sally . . . thanks for sending your manuscript. I read it last night and sent it around the office for a few other editors to check out this morning. We all agree that you have a unique writing talent for creative nonfiction."

"Thanks," I said jumping up from the ground and then squeezing my lips into a lock-hold so I wouldn't start screaming into the guy's ear.

The conversation went on for a few more minutes. I mentioned that I had just put my daughter down for a nap; and that we'd adopted her from China. He shared that he, too, was an adoptive father. He asked about the sales of my last books. I did my best to give him figures. He mentioned that he'd been getting lots of creative nonfiction proposals lately, but that it seemed to be a difficult genre for writers to really master. I found that interesting and started dreaming about teaching a creative nonfiction course. He said that he'd get back to me soon. I floated back to the dining room and finished selecting pictures for the family picture wall.

I wore Grandpa's watch for a week straight after that. Then, set it on top of my jewelry box for several months. A couple days ago, on an impulse, I put the watch on again and wore it all day. After dinner I checked my e-mail. My heart dropped when I saw the name of one of my favorite editors - the publisher of a couple of my books, someone who has become to be a dear friend - in the subject heading of my first e-mail. The title of a recent book proposal in the subject heading. (If it was good news, a book deal, he would've called.) My heart dropped through my stomach, through the floor of my office, into our living room, then out the front door. In the coldest part of the night, my heart planted itself deeply beneath eight inches of snow that'd just stormed into our town.

Here's what I read.

Sally:

This is a difficult email for me to write because I REALLY like your latest book proposal. It feels like an important book and one that you should write…if not immediately, at least soon. But, I couldn’t generate a lot of enthusiasm for it with the team at ________. Everybody likes you and thinks you are a great writer, but they felt it was not a topic that ________ could sell easily. It is frustrating because our sales are down and that is causing even greater caution than usual, and less willingness to risk on a project simply because it is good.

The e-mail went on with friendly words that really meant a lot to me. As I walked down the stairs to our family room I was bummed that hopes for my next job had been dashed - or at least changed. Then, I felt Grandpa's watch gripping my wrist. That's strange, I thought. One of the last times I wore this heirloom I got the biggest book deal in my life. Today, I wrapped it round my wrist and got an unexpected literary rejection.

love
Believing that our lives are always ripe with messages, hidden truths, spiritual similes, metaphysical metaphors; I wondered what it might mean that I was wearing Grandpa's watch for both of these significant life events. When I put the watch on for the first time (and got the mind-blowing phone call) I remembered thinking that the sad memories of the watch had been redeemed by my new memory; and that somehow the trinket itself had been transformed.

Anyone looking at Grandpa's watch would agree that that old "T and C in jewels" is just as battered as the day Grandpa died wearing it, though. Nothing has changed about the scratches on the face, the patinaed gold plate, the worn winder, its tender and temperamental tick. It still stutters and needs to be tapped a few times to get ticking at proper time-keeping speed. My fortuitous life events haven't refurbished the watch inside or out.

Battered, unlucky and ordinary as the watch may be, it held on to Grandpa and me during treasured and tragic moments. It was with us counting, keeping track of our seconds, minutes, every single inexorable moment of our lives just like God does.

love

My times are in your hands. Psalm 31:15

Happy Chinese New Year!
Xīnnián kuàilè!
love
love
love
love
love

Chinese New Year's Eve is known as Chúxì (除夕). Chu literally means "change" and xi means "Eve".

On this Eve of Change I'm reminiscing about one of the biggest changes our family has undergone in quite some time: when we adopted Ling Xu Ran (aka Emily Grace Ling Miller) on November 20, 2005.

It is hard to believe that Emily has been part of our brimming brood for just over two years now. She and her sister-cousins (the eleven other girls who came home from JiangXi Provence with Emily) have all assimilated, adjusted, and are growing, thriving with their forever families. Below is a picture of a few these girls - lost daughters of China - who have been found.

love love love love Our Emily is the third from the right love love love love l love love love love(in the pink on pink striped dress).

In honor of Chinese New Year, I'm posting two excerpts relating to Emily and the Lost Daughters of China from Girl Talk . . . God Talk: What Your Friends Can Teach You About Prayer (Harvest House Publishers).

AN EXCERPT ABOUT THE LOST DAUGHTERS OF CHINA FROM
GIRL TALK . . . GOD TALK

The other day, I heard God, loud and clear, after watching Oprah. Her show was about the ‘lost baby girls of China.’ It explained that thousands of infant girls are abandoned in railroad stations, grocery markets, and parks in China each year. It noted that this occurs partly because of China’s population regulations, and partly because of a cultural preference for sons. Thus, orphanages in China are overflowing with female babies.

I was riveted by Oprah’s coverage of this issue because my husband, Bryan, and I are in the process of adopting a little girl from China. (By the time this book is in your hands, our daughter will be in ours.) I cried all day, after seeing graphic footage of a little orphan named, Mei Ming, which actually means ‘No Name,’ who was left alone in an orphanage ‘dying room’ to pass away.

I pictured my little lacquer-haired girl needing me for a bottle or diaper change. I imagined snuggling her or feeding her a meal. I wept for my daughter, now alive in China, waiting for me. I also cried for the others who’ll be left behind when my baby comes home.

The morning after seeing the Oprah show, I felt God nudging me to spend some time reading His word. To be honest, I was a little ticked at Him, wondering what He planned on doing for all of the precious, abandoned babes of the world. So, I resisted His invitation. I got out of bed at 5:30 a.m., as I usually do. But, instead of accepting His welcome to read, I made coffee, did two loads of laundry, made some notes for this book, and lit a fire.

God’s still, soft voice kept nudging me, “Read, Sally. Just pick up my word, and start reading where you left off last.” Finally, I flopped open my Bible to Ezekiel 16. I didn’t think I had any tears left in me. Still they poured out warm and saline as I read:

“On the day you were born . . . you were not washed with water to make you clean, nor were you . . . wrapped in cloths. Rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for on the day you were born you were despised.

I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there . . . I said to you, ‘Live!’ I made you grow like a plant of the field. You grew up . . . and became the most beautiful of jewel . . . I looked at you and saw that you were old enough for love, I spread the corner of my garment over you . . . I gave you my solemn oath and entered into a covenant with you, and you became mine.”

Immediately, I realized that these were God’s sentiments toward my daughter. As I read I couldn't believe I found a word for her in Ezekiel of all places! Through this prophesy for Israel, God’s warm, friendly voice promised to take care of the China’s lost daughters, and all the abandoned babies of the World.

Though I don’t know how He’ll keep His covenant; I believe He will, in His time and ways. He’ll not fail His covenant of Love with any orphans, including me.


AN EXCERPT ABOUT CHINA'S BIRTH MOTHERS FROM

GIRL TALK . . . GOD TALK

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep [her] memory green in our souls.
-Clement Clarke Moore

One of my dearest friends is a woman I’ve never met. I don’t know her name, the timbre of her voice, or her favorite foods. She may like spicy Sichuan; or perhaps she prefers Cantonese stir-fry. She may be boisterous and funny, or quiet and demure. She may be a farmer, a teacher, or a stay-at-home mom. She’s probably close to my age. But, she could be a few years older than I, or quite a bit younger.

All I definitely know about this woman is that she has lacquer hair, and almond eyes. She lives in China, and is about to give me one of the greatest gifts of my lifetime: a daughter. This faraway friend is the birthmother of a baby girl my husband and I are going to adopt from China this fall.

I’ve given my friend a name, Meiying, which means beautiful flower in Chinese. I use this name when I pray for her and the baby girl, Emily, that she carried. Lord, please carry Meiying as she carried Emily. Give her a healthy postpartum recovery, and a sweet, lasting connection to her daughter. Please be with Meiying during these tumultuous times for the family in China. Help her find grace and peace as she’s forced to make the difficult decision of placing her baby in a location where she’ll be found, placed in a welfare institution, and ultimately adopted – by us. Let Meiying know that when she cries, you cry; and that you care about her as much as she cares about Emily.

For about six months now, I’ve been preparing paperwork that was just mailed to the China Center for Adoption Affairs (CCAA) in Bejing. The collection of documents is called a dossier. It includes: a petition to adopt an orphan, our birth certificates, copies of passports, a home study, pictures of our family, etc. All of the documents are officially sealed by the Secretary of State, and the Chinese Consulate. I’d describe the process of preparing this package as a gestation of red tape: a paper pregnancy.

During my paper pregnancy, I was struck by a serendipitous occurrence. Almost every time I had to get my stack of growing papers signed, sealed, or notarized; it was usually a rainy, hazy, or misty day. Time and again, I remember cloaking the documents inside my jacket to prevent them from getting wet. Sheltering the bundle felt much like carrying a little baby. Often, I found myself tearing up as I cradled the valuable paperwork in my arms, under my heart. I imagined that Emily’s birthmother was probably crying a lot, too.

I thought about Meiying, and hoped she was receiving some comfort from her religion be it Confucianism or Buddhism. I tried to picture her in the temple praying and receiving grace. But, I didn’t know if Meiying even lived near a religious shrine, or of she participated in any kind of religious practice. I thought about my missionary friend who’s currently in China; and hoped, among the millions, that Meiying might’ve been one exposed to faith in Christ. No matter what her story, I found deep comfort in the image of God collecting Meiying’s tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8).

Also, as I reflect on many rainy trips to the Chinese Consulate in Chicago, and to my adoption agency, I realize that Meiying and I were not the only ones crying for Emily . . . for China. God was expressing His anguish, too. His tears over lost mothers and daughters of His beloved China symbolically fell in thunderstorms and showers, mists and heavy torrents of rain. The tears were numerous, and came throughout our entire adoption process.

In January our paperwork was complete. I put it all in a grand envelope. Noticing that the weather was a predictable grey, I put on my biggest, fluffiest winter parka. Like a mother bear, I was prepared to protect the documents that would ultimately link me to my daughter.

On my way to the adoption agency, the sky darkened. I thought about Meiying. I cried tears for her along with tears of personal joy, anticipation, and fear. By the time I pulled onto the long, tree lined drive leading to our social worker’s office; it wasn’t raining. It was snowing! Soft, large, white flakes floated from heaven, consecrating the moment as holy. Some of Jesus’ famous words came to mind.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
Luke 6:21

I parked my car, looked heavenward into flecks of freshly falling flakes. And, imagined the day I will meet Emily’s birth mother. I see her. She is as beautiful as an orchid, with long black hair, and a slender body. I bow to her. She bows in return. Jesus wipes tears from our eyes. Emily takes both of our hands, and we skip down a golden street, laughing.

THANKS, UNCLE GUS!










Uncle Gus on the day he met Emily for the first time.

Kung hei fat choi!
(Congratulations & be prosperous!)

Yesterday, I pulled into our driveway and noticed a parcel on our front porch. I parked the car and picked up the package. It had made its way to my home from Hawaii where my Uncle Gus lives. Eagerly, Emily and I opened the package. Inside was a round deep chocolate brown cake topped sesame seeds wearing a red cellophane dress and a cherry hat. There was also a note:

Aloha Sal,

Every Chinese New Year we always looked forward to my mom's special dessert: Gau. Hope you and the family enjoy the treat.

Kung hei fat choi!

Love,
Uncle Gus, Auntie Caryn and Bogie (the Golden Retriever)

In honor of this special gift, family ties that are tie closer than blood lines, and the coming Chinese New Year, I'd like to share a piece I wrote about my Uncle Gus
from my most recent book:

THE BIBLE IS A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND

Growing up Asian in a mainly Caucasian community was
not a miserable and gloomy existence . . . It was this constant
whirling of East and West that spun the threads of my identity.
At the time, I felt these different threads twisted my life into knots.
Now I know that the fabric of my life is richer for them.
-Grace Lin, The Year of the Dog, p. 135-136

UNCLE GUS' RED ENVELOPES

One of my favorite people on the planet is Uncle Gus, the husband of my mom’s sister, Caryn. With dark, smooth hair, skin the lovely color of a latte and smiling almond eyes, he is at once handsome, welcoming, and jovial. His Chinese and Pilipino roots have mingled wonderfully. Seeing him induces me to breathe a soul deep, “Aloha!” which isn’t surprising as he and Caryn live on Kauai. I just hope he’ll forgive me for including him in the Her Word section of a book primarily for women!

Childhood memories of Uncle Gus are as bold and resonant as his laugh. I vividly remember him at family gatherings in Grandma’s rolling ranch of Minnesota. Each morning he’d be clad in a blue striped terry robe; inevitably eating leftover dinner rice for breakfast (often right out of the serving bowl). Though slim, his ability to eat large quantities of food earned him the nickname, “The Chunk.” As a young girl, I remember thinking the moniker inexorably funny!

Uncle Gus took pity on me – the only girl cousin in a brood of boys. He often defended me from the ‘Little Devils’ (Robby, Jimmy, and Jonny, my brother and two cousins, respectively); taking me on trips to the seminary where he worked or into town on errands. One summer, he taught me an entire repertoire of new songs which we performed, accompanied by his guitar, for the entire family. He even gave me a special T-shirt for the occasion. I felt so special, like a superstar. I’ll never forget that night and the energy he expended making me feel like an important part of a family in which I was normally a butterfly amidst a bunch of bullfrogs.

History has a way of repeating itself. Now, our sweet little adopted daughter from China finds herself trying to fit in to a family full of boys. She also finds herself trying to sort out Chinese roots after being grafted into a predominately Caucasian family tree. Uncle Gus is helping. With the same hands that cradled me, he cradles her. With the same voice that taught me to sing, he sings to her. With the same love, and grace, and honor he includes her, identifies with her from a deep Chinese-American root.

When Bry and I told Uncle Gus we were adopting, he sent us a beautiful Christmas card. It was adorned with cardinals dancing in snow covered pines, and read:

Aloha Sally and Bryan,

When my siblings and I were kids, we always looked forward to receiving our Chinese “Good Fortune” gift from my mom. Tradition required the gift to be wrapped in red paper with a special coin or bill as a token wish for health, long life, and great wealth.

Auntie Caryn and I are happy to continue the tradition with your family now that you are part of the old legacy of Chinese culture.

Merry Christmas!

Love and Hugs,
Uncle Gus

Tucked inside the card was a shiny red envelope which held a silver dollar. Once again, ‘The Chunk’ embraced, included, welcomed with Aloha-love! Because of him, our daughter feels more deeply linked to our family. And, once again, so do I. This time, our family circle has been enlarged more than I ever could’ve imagined, all because of Uncle Gus.

On a recent trip to Chinatown I was standing in line to purchase some Chinese soaps. A man behind me heard me using limited Chinese with the clerk and asked if I was Chinese. I thought of my Uncle, looked directly into the stranger’s eyes, and confidently said, “Yes!” Thanks to Uncle Gus, I’ve been grafted in to the Chinese community! And, in my heart, I’m Chinese.

An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet,
regardless of time, place, or circumstance
the thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.
-Chinese Proverb

Jesus said, “. . . whoever welcomes a little child in my name welcomes me.”
Matthew 18:5


TIE A RED THREAD 'ROUND THE FAMILY TREE

Judaism and Christianity have something to do with each other. Judaism
and Christianity make a path. They make a path through the Bible, and through
history. -Lauren Winner, Girl Meets God, page 270

Just like Uncle Gus, the Bible is about making connections, enlarging family circles, inclusion. It has been said that there’s a red thread running through the Bible. This red thread is the blood of Christ – shed for those who need hope, a fresh start, a sense of belonging. It’s a thread linking Jews and Gentiles, Law and Grace, Old and New Testaments, History and Today. It connects, stitches together, broadens the cloth of God’s family.

It’s easy to read the Bible (especially the Old Testament), regard it as a Jewish book, and feel excluded. Scripture is written primarily by Jewish men. It’s filled with stories about Israel, promises for Israel, provisions for Israel, and laws for Israel’s people. After all, Israel is God’s chosen nation, a people beloved by God (Deuteronomy 10:15 and Exodus 19:6). And, tantamount to that, Jesus is Jewish.

The real ‘good news’ of the Bible, though, is that its red thread doesn’t end at the Red Sea. If we follow the thread, foretold by the prophets and foreshadowed in Old Testament narratives; we’ll see it weaving on the needle of a Divine Artist right through the New Testament. And, surprisingly, it continues beyond the pages of God’s book – through space and time – including anyone who desires to be tied in to the family of God. “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ” (Ephesians 2:13).

Just as Uncle Gus let me see my Chinese-heart; the Bible reveals that all of Christendom has Jewish roots. By God’s grace, he unites people, makes unpredictable family ties. His New Testament family is the quintessential blended family: an unlikely combination of Jews and Gentiles. “This mystery is that through the gospel the Gentiles are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 3:6).

Today, God continues to weave all of the children of the world together! I can’t wait to walk the streets of Heaven and see the diversity and surprising familial links woven together by the thread of God’s Love. Iranians and Pakistanis will embrace. Americans and Curds will hold hands. Wolves and lambs will live together (Isaiah 11:6). And, we’ll all be one shockingly happy, enormous, unexpected family!

It did not surprise me when I recently heard an ancient Chinese proverb about a connective red thread. The proverb tells that those destined to meet are bound by a red thread which stretches, but never breaks. I believe that God planted that proverb in the hearts of wise, ancient Chinese scholars; and that foretells the way all of God’s children are bound together in holy kinship.

Just as Uncle Gus has tied Emily and I more tightly into our family; the Bible makes it clear that Christ makes God’s people out of foreigners and aliens. He obliterates dividing walls, makes peace and, collects wandering strangers into an enormous family circle (Ephesians 2:11-22). It doesn’t matter if we’re Chinese or Caucasian, male or female, rich or poor. We can all be grafted in to God’s family tree, woven with His red thread of redemption.

APPLICATIONS

If the part of the dough offered as first fruits is holy
then the whole batch is holy; if the root is holy, so are the branches.
Romans 11:16

1. What are your familial roots? How have they effected, enriched, deepened your faith?

2. When you imagine the family of God what do we look like? How have we grafted each other in? How can we be weavers of the red thread God began knitting with His word? Perhaps take up knitting and think about it as your needles click an inspiring rhythm.

3. When you have time to study, read the following passages as a way of tracing the red thread through scripture: Genesis 9:6, Exodus 12:13 and 24:8, Leviticus 17:11, Ephesians 1:7, Hebrews 9:22, Revelation 5:9. (You may also want to use your concordance to do a word study on: blood, red, crimson, scarlet. Journal about what you discover.)

In days to come Jacob will take root, Israel will
bud and blossom and fill all the world with fruit.
Isaiah 27:6

SNOW DAY!

One of my favorite things about living in the Midwest is being able to experience the fullness of the four seasons: luminous indelible autumnal colors, winter's snows, shoots of green in spring, and the sprinkler days of summer. Since we're in the full blast of winter, I'm embracing all that comes with our coldest season: time by the fire, hot chocolates, walks in the snow, mornings sledding on a hill in the park by our house, reading lots and lots good books 'neath old quilts, getting an automated call from the school district at 5:30 a.m. with an announcement that we're having a SNOW DAY!!!!!!

This year, we had our first Snow Day on February 1st. The kids stayed in their PJs 'til noon, we took a friend sledding, and made Snow Ice Cream.
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SNOW ICE CREAM

2 eggs

1/2 teaspoon salt

Beat together until creamy.

1 cup sugar

2/3 cup milk (we use 1/2 and 1/2)
1 tablespoon vanilla

Add this to egg mixture and beat together.

Pour above combination mixture over 12 cups of fresh clean snow. Fold together and eat quickly! (If you're concerned about raw eggs; you can make the same recipe omitting the eggs.)

I think what I love the most about experiencing the seasons is that they're full with metaphor and symbol for the cycles of our lives. They speak so strongly, graphically, sensually of death, rebirth, love and loss, grace, and beauty that comes after pain. Shel Silverstein says it wondrously in his poem about a snowman who doesn't want to melt:

Chirped a robin, just arriving,

"Seasons come and seasons go,

And the greatest ice must crumble

When it's flowers' time to grow.

And as one thing is beginning

So another thing must die . . .

It isn't a coincidence that flowers come after the white frigid deep-freeze . . . that my second son was born the week my paternal grandmother died . . . that healing came in my family while I was suffering inexorable, incapacitating back pain . . . that "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies . . . "

How do you feel about the seasons? Do you have a story to share about the way seasons have symbolized the life and death cycles in your own experience? Feel free to share a story, poem, song, or idea as a comment!

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Perhaps Silverstein's entire poem and the glorious illustration by my second-grade son, Ben, will inspire you.

SNOWMAN

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love love 'Twas the first day of the springtime,

And the snowman stood alone

As the winter snows were melting,

And the pine trees seemed to groan,

"Ah, you poor sad smiling snowman,

You'll be melting by and by."Said the snowman, "What a pity,

For I'd like to see July.

Yes, I'd like to see July, and please don't ask me why.
But I'd like to, yes I'd like to, oh I'd like to see July."

Chirped a robin, just arriving,
"Seasons come and seasons go,
And the greatest ice must crumble
When it's flowers' time to grow.
And as one thing is beginning
So another thing must die,

And there's never been a snowman

Who has ever seen July.

No, they never see July, no matter how they try.

No, they never ever, never ever, never see July."

But the snowman sniffed his carrot nose

And said, "At least I'll try,

And he bravely smiled his frosty smile

And blinked his cola-black eye.

And there he stood and faced the sun

A blazin' from the sky -

And I really cannot tell you

If he ever saw July.

Did he ever see July? You can guess as well as I

If he ever, if he never, if he ever saw July.

February's Prayer

This month's prayer is one of my favorites. It is written by Saitn Francis of Assisi, A Roman Catholic Friar. The Patron Saint of animals, Saint Francis' likeness with bird liting on index finger, is readily and recognizable in gardens and other bucolic settings. Though the church calendar recognizes Saint Francis with a Feast Day in October; I thought his prayer, an homage to LOVE was fitting as February's Prayer!
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I remember singing a version of the Prayer of Saint Francis in mass as a little girl: inscence floating in St. Mary's of Lake Forest smelling almost as good as Jasmine in spring, guitar chords wafting and reverberating 'round vaulted sanctuary ceilings, Mrs. I-Forget-Her-Name's nasal soprano leading the congregation:

Today, as a writer and stay-at-home-mama, I find the prayer: a call, a summoning, a challenge! I'd be delighted if you'd join me in praying:

PRAYER OF SAINT FRANCIS

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
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O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.


For more on Saint Francis' famous prayer, check out Wikipedia's entry: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prayer_of_Saint_Francis

CONTEST WINNERS!!!
WHAT MAKES A FAITH-FILLED FRIEND?

THANKS, BETH & JEANNE
for posting the following comments about spiritual friendship:

BETH'S WORDS:

Faith-filled friends are forever friends. I remember telling a dear Christian friend who was living far away, "Maybe God will let us have rooms next to each other in heaven!"

Our friendship deepened when we realized the seeds we sow as friends now can continue to grow without end - even though we may never live close to each other here on earth.

Girlfriends, who are in essence "sisters" in God's family, can connect in deeper ways because of their faith. As we invite the Holy Spirit into our friendships, the blessings of friendship are multiplied. The Holy Spirit can even nudge us to pray for each other when the other one needs it. What an amazing connection!

Thank you, God, for providing us with soul sisters!


JEANNE'S WORDS:

The great difference between regular friendships and those with whom we have a spiritual kinship is that there is a third person in the relationship: God. His presence in the relationship brings it into the realm of the supernatural, and allows us to have supernatural forgiveness when we wrong one another, supernatural agreement on the most important things, and the spirit of truth in what we say to each other.

Having spiritual oneness allows us a freedom that just isn't there in an ordinary friendship--a freedom to be wholly and transparently ourselves. And there is a wisdom that a spiritual friend has, a wisdom that comes from above, that gives her objectivity when I'm having trouble seeing straight. I can trust that my spiritual friend will speak truth in love to me when I need it, not just agree with everything I say--and that, to me, is one of the greatest gifts of a spiritual friendship.

Another wonderful thing about spiritual friendships is that they can go from acquaintance to friendship very quickly. When we both know and are seeking to obey the same Person, we have a lot of important common ground already! And when you haven't seen a soul sister in awhile, it's easy to pick up where you left off, simply by asking: What has God been doing in your life? Again, that idea that there are three persons in the relationship: A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

You've both won a free copy of GIRL TALK . . . GOD TALK: What Your Friends Can Teach You About Prayer. Please contact my assistant, Julie MacManus, jmacmanus@tx.rr.com with your contact information and we'll stick the book in the mail to you in time for Valentine's Day!

Also - for those of you who've been waiting - and as promised, here's the article on Faith & Friendship that Cheri and I wrote for TODAY'S CHRISTIAN WOMAN. I've also included our fun FRIENDSHIP QUIZ. It's especially hilarious and illuminating if you take it with a friend who knows you well.


CHERI & SALLY's WORDS from TCW:

Soul Sisters:
4 Ways to Foster Spiritual Friendships

I love carrot cake and hate small talk. Cheri craves ice cream and works out religiously. Friends for more than 20 years, we're two Starbucks-drinking, Levi-wearing, munchkin-rearing friends.

But when Cheri and I mention we're on a "spiritual journey" together, people often give us blank stares. We suspect they're imagining us at Bible studies and weekend retreats. Some of those images ring true, but faith-filled friendship is more about sharing the rough-and-tumble of ordinary life than practicing spiritual piety.

Jesus and his twelve stinky fishermen friends spent more time at the beach than they did at a synagogue. Their hillside picnics probably felt more like church than most days at the temple. Every social gathering was a feast of friendship and faith. Even today, a circle of friends - with Christ at the center - is one of God's desires for his church. He continually sows seeds of community, whether we're scheduling play dates or coffee breaks, joining book clubs or Bible studies. Yet too often we rely more on our frenetic pace than on faith-inspiring friendships to serve our souls.
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In their book Friends for the Journey, Madeleine L'Engle and Luci Shaw describe friendship as a gift "given to you - holy, happy, tough, tender, wild, wacky, a sacrifice, and a sacrament." Finding soul sisters means being open to spiritual friendship. Cheri and I have discovered these important ways to foster this.
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1. CHERI: Open your heart and mind.

Start by asking God to put people in your life who'll inspire your faith and nourish your soul. And be persistent about putting yourself in the presence of people you want to learn from - even if they're different from you.

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When Sally and I first met as roommates at college, we were obvious opposites. Sally had jet-black hair and an operatic voice; I'm more introverted by nature. Though we shared little in common, we sensed there were things we could teach each other. So together we attended campus concerts and took train trips into the nearby city. Over that year - and the years that followed - God surprised us with the gift of being more than just sisters in Christ, but friends for the journey. It still surprises us how my introversion teaches Sally to live in the moment and wait on grace, and how her boisterous spirit nurtures my adventurous side. Together we're able to experience the full spectrum of a faith-filled life: stillness and movement, prayer and play.

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When you're open to the Spirit's work in your life, friendship can spark anywhere, anytime: at the grocery store, in a book club, or in a church small group.

2. SALLY: Honor and celebrate each other.

When my husband and I returned from China with our adopted daughter, Emily Grace, Cheri loaded her clan into a minivan to make the snow-laden trek to Illinois for a welcoming celebration.

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On antique hunts, my friend Rona and I hunt for pairs of brass candlesticks. I take one, Rona the other. The missing half reminds us we're not alone. When Cheri invites a girlfriend over, she lights a candle to remind her that friends reflect the glow of God's presence.

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Friends can celebrate spiritual realities in ordinary moments. Whether it's with a fiesta for 50 or a casual luncheon for 2, time with your friends is sacred. Matthew 18:20 says, "for where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." God invites you to share in a feast of friendship and faith even in the mundane. Marking moments as holy and meaningful opens your heart to God and each other.

3. CHERI: Share personal stories.

Learning to love and nourish other women, spiritually speaking, is also about finding the courage to exchange personal stories. Hearts engage when you invite others to share their joys, struggles, questions, and dreams.

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Sally and I were friends for 15 years when my move 400 miles away threatened to challenge the closeness of our friendship. Crippled with grief, I struggled with reaching out to new people. Sally and I began spending a lot of time together on the phone, unveiling parts of our hearts we'd guarded carefully before. Now, though geographically separated, we became closer than ever before.

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Trusting that authenticity is a God-given seed for spiritual friendship, I also joined a women's Bible study group. Every Friday morning I dragged myself to church only to cry, struggle to engage, worry what others thought of me, and promise that next week I'd actually finish the homework. But over time, God handpicked a circle of friends for me who wear the fragrance of Christ.

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Thankfully, friends don't have to be in crisis to take risks with each other. When you understand the power of sharing personal stories, you realize even a daily walk to the bus stop with your neighbor can open up opportunities for deeper sharing. The other day, as we awaited my son's big yellow bus, my neighbor shared that she's recently qualified for the Boston Marathon. Her story inspired me to share some writing accolades I may otherwise have kept hidden. Since then, we've been able to celebrate each other's successes and support each other during difficult times.

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With frequent open sharing, you can confess over coffee with a childhood friend that tangled knot in your chest over a recent argument with your spouse. Or as you work through a study guide with a support group, you can leave an answer blank and instead ask a question burning in your soul. Authenticity leads to intimacy. And it's through intimacy you experience God's embrace.

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4. SALLY: Pray for each other.

Intercession, the heart of prayer, means favorable entreaty. Anytime you give a gift to a friend, you express favorable desire for her. Anytime you write an encouraging note or e-mail, you express your desire for your friend's well-being. And God's always listening.

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Recently a dear friend, Lucy, lost her infant daughter to a reare immune deficiency disease. She and her husband kept an online journal, and I reviewed the posting daily, weeping tears of compassion when IVs wouldn't stay in, tests came back with scary results, or another holiday went by in the hospital, away from the comforts of home. Some days I felt I hadn't prayed enough or in the right ways for Lucy. But when I read Lucy's last journal entry about her baby's death and soaked my blouse with tears, I realized sobbing was my prayer. Later that day, I wrote a poem for my friend, which I framed and sent to her as memorial.

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When we walk in compassion and grace with our girlfriends, we're experiencing spiritual friendship. It's nothing we have to "add in" or "put on." It comes with the territory of loving deeply. And it turns things as simple as tears into prayers. In this way, the apostle Paul's admonition to pray without ceasing is transformed into the everyday details of our relational realities.

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Friendships are the heart and soul of God's church.

He invites us to join hands in an ever-growing circle of love and grace, enjoying the mysterious way he weds our humble humanity with his holiness. Sally and I are simply two friends on a spiritual journey together. As you too live with compassion, helping other while daring to reveal your heart in the process, you'll do what women do best: faith-filled friendship.

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To find your own style of friendship, take The Five Faces of Friendship: Find Your Face Quiz. While you’re at it, brew a pot of tea, invite over a group of friends and take the quiz together. As you gather – living with compassion and helping each other, while daring to reveal your hearts in the process – you’re doing what women do best: faith-filled friendship.

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The Five Faces of Friendship:
Find Your Face Quiz

To find the unique ways you relate as a friend, please circle one answer for each question. Because we’re understanding Soul Sisters, if you find yourself torn between two answers, go ahead and circle both. Instructions for compiling your friendship portrait can be found at the end of the test.

1) Do you tend to be more:
a) prayerful and faith-filled
b) hilarious and playful
c) loyal and compassionate
d) creative and inviting
e) wise and perceptive

2) A television show you’d most likely watch:
a) Touched by an Angel
b) Last Comic Standing
c) A Hallmark made-for-TV movie
d) The Art of French Cooking with Julia Childs
e) Dr. Phil

3) At a party, do you....
a) gently redirect a gossipy conversation
b) show up in costume
c) help remove a punch stain from a friend’s dress
d) bring hand-dipped candles as a hostess gift
e) break out the mini-book ‘If...’: Questions for the Game of Life

4) Which famous person is most like you?
a) Beth Moore
b) Lucille Ball
c) Lady Di
d) Martha Stewart
e) Ann Landers

5) What might you be overheard saying?
a) “How can I pray for you?”
b) “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
c) “You go, girl!”
d) “Can I borrow your bundt pan?”
e) “Now, the tornado in your dream means...”

6) What holiday-related activity would you most enjoy?
a) Encouraging your family to thank God on Thanksgiving
b) Spraying Silly String everywhere for someone’s Birthday
c) Delivering homemade cards to the senior center on Valentines Day
d) Baking 10 varieties of cookies for friends and family at Christmas
e) Reflecting on the past year and setting new goals for the New Year

7) What your friends might say about you:
a) “She sees me through God’s eyes.”
b) “She makes me laugh so hard I pee my pants.”
c) “When I feel bad, she cries too.”
d) “I’m at home when I’m with her.”
e) “She knows me better than I know myself.”

8) If you were a children’s book, what would your title be?
a) The Velveteen Rabbit
b) Cat in the Hat
c) The Giving Tree
d) Little House on the Prairie
e) The Secret Garden

9) How you might spend a Saturday afternoon:
a) calling your prayer chain
b) doing a high ropes course with a friend
c) serving at a soup kitchen
d) planning the neighborhood block party
e) writing in your journal

10) Your motto in life:
a) It is well with my soul
b) Laughter is the best medicine
c) A friend in need is a friend indeed
d) Home is where the heart is
e) Those who seek will find


Finding your Face:
Tally your number of a, b, c, d and e answers below. Your friendship profile is based on your two highest scores. Read the corresponding ‘faces’ for both of those letters. You will be a combination of the two different portraits.

a______ b______ c______ d_______ e_______



The Five Faces:
Your Friendship Portrait

(a) Soul Sister
You are a prayerful and faith-filled friend. By your example and encouragement, friends grow in their own faith journeys. You avoid coming off as “holier than thou” because you are honest and transparent about your own life. Friends come to you for spiritual guidance and prayer, knowing your concern for them is rooted in God’s love. At times you may grow weary of always being the anchor in your circle of friends. They are blessed by your spirit of strength.

(b) Playmate
You have a knack for finding humor in the ordinary. Friends call you when they need a good laugh. You spark up any gathering with your witty comments and prankster personality. Because you are a sensitive soul, it may be hard for you to trust others with deep feelings. Your sense of adventure inspires people to do things they might not otherwise do. The way you help others play is a gift. You truly understand that laughter is the best medicine.

(c) Midwife
You are a compassionate and generous friend. Others feel comfortable coming to you when they need a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Patience and understanding come naturally to you. You are sentimental and sincere. At times you may feel depleted because you give so freely from your time and resources. You have the heart of a servant, and know intuitively how to nurture those in need.

(d) Hostess
You are creative, fun, and often the bearer of tidings. Others feel at home in your presence. You know how to celebrate your friends, and cherish creating new traditions with them. You have a gift for seeing how ordinary things (candles, quilts, photographs, meals, letters) can reflect spiritual realities. It can be easy for you to get stuck in high gear, unable to find some solitude. Friends appreciate your creativity, and often look to you to coordinate the next meaningful party.

(e) Therapist
You are wise and perceptive friend, obsessed with finding meaning in life. You have valuable insights that others might miss on their own. People cherish your perspective on life and love, and often come to you for advice. Friends may need to remind you of your tendency to over- analyze. Journaling, reading and reflecting help strengthen your gifts of wisdom and intuition. Your friends benefit because you often know them better than they know themselves.

love love love love love Friends give nourishment of all kinds to one another.

love love love love love love love love We sustain one another.

love love love love In so many ways we offer to one another feasts of friendship.
love love love love love love love love love love love love– Madeleine L’Engle