Getting Back to Life in the Kingdom

Life in the Kingdom includes kisses from Brooks-the-Wonder-Dog

I typically post a family Advent blog, but it didn’t happen last year.  My last post was for Nate’s Gotcha Day in September.  I try and post a New Year’s family blog.  But it didn’t happen this year.  I have to say I know something is off when I’m not writing in some form or fashion.  By that I mean the type of writing that brings me joy – the rambling in my journals, a blog for the Quan Family, the passing of a few chapters back and forth with my friend Cynthia.  But the only writing I’ve been doing has to do with appeal letters, website verbiage and promotional pieces.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at it and they are necessary parts of the job.  But, it doesn’t feed my soul.

We’ve been living in a bit of a black hole of late.  I’ve found that my little family is often overwhelmed by the tasks at hand.  Somehow, without knowing it, our family hopped back on the hamster wheel when we weren’t looking.   It’s like we’re bobble head dolls without our heads on.  We’ve lost our heads!  All that’s sitting on top of the necks is the spring where the heads are supposed to sit.  Not a good sight!

Life in the Kingdom is when Dave cooks!

In a conversation yesterday with a kindred spirit, I said these words:   “After tasting what life can be like when really lived in the Kingdom, you know when things are out of whack, and you desperately begin to try and re-calibrate to get back to that place of peace.”  The sad realization for me as I contemplated that statement last night was that around the Quan Household, we’ve known it’s been out of whack for a while.  So we’ve started using statements like:  “We just have to get through the holidays and then we’ll find our equilibrium,” or “Mom just has to finish traveling for the next three weeks and life will get back to normal.”  We think if we just get through the next season of busy-ness we can then can back to REAL life.  These statements are better known as Justification Statements.  As in, “we’re okay living here because we’re only going to live here for a while and then we’ll get back to what’s healthy and good for us.”  And, if I’m really honest with myself, my job and my pace have put us here.  So, what to do?

Here’s the conversation from yesterday with my dear friend, Chris Hall:  

Chris: You and I, we have similar job stresses and I know what you’re struggling with.  Do you know what God says to me about it?

Rachel:  Tell me what God says to you.

Chris:  He says ‘You know, Chris, there are only so many hours in a day and so many days in your life.  And, don’t you think I know how many there are?’

Ouch.  We live as if we have 48 hours in a day and that the days are ours to waste.  We live as if our jobs are more important than our families.  Or you do what I do.  I’m home, in the same space as my family, but not present. So even when I am acting like my family is important, my heart isn’t following. Because sadly, even as the leader of an organization that is all about Life WITH God, I spend most of my time performing FOR God.  In the midst of performing FOR God I have missed out on Life in the Kingdom.  And I know it. 

Being present!

The issue at hand is not that I know this.  It’s what I need to do about it.  We know what a beautiful rhythm in our family looks like.  We have to make the decisions that get us back there or keep us there.  We haven’t been making those decisions.   We know how to say “no.” But we haven’t.  We know when we’ve over-committed and need to go back and release ourselves from some of those commitments.  But we haven’t.  We’re afraid to disappoint others.  We don’t want to feel guilty about re-adjusting.  But living life out of obligation and guilt isn’t Life in the Kingdom.

It’s Spring Break week.  And, we’re completely recalibrating.  I don’t care if I work for a great ministry.  The ministry doesn’t own my family.  I can’t fret when a few folks are disappointed that we have to say ‘no’ and we’re going to stay home today instead of getting back in the spin cycle.  This week Life in the Kingdom is the rodeo carnival, chocolate fondue night with Nate, walks with the dog, a movie that just the three of us go to...  I’m going to let some folks know that although I had planned a work trip in the near future, I’m going to have to re-schedule it for another time.  

There are not 48 hours in a day and my days aren’t mine to waste anyway.  Living WITH God is not the hamster wheel or the headless bobble heads.  It is grace and rhythm.  It is being present - body, mind and spirit. It is relationship over tasks.  It’s planning our annual trek to Montana and already hearing the waters of the Yellowstone River flowing by.  It is sharing a piece of lemon sheet cake – one plate, three forks.  It is serving others together.  It is laughing together.  It is the quiet in the mornings when my boy is still sleeping and it’s just me with my cup of coffee.  It is Dave’s Saturday morning jaunt down to the bayou with the dog, sitting on the bench, watching the world go by and listening to NPR on his iPhone.  It is Nate chilling in his room and reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid just one more time.  It is deep breaths and reading a book for the simple pleasure of reading it and not because it has anything to do with my job. It is an evening with our young adult small group.  It is doing absolutely nothing but listening.  

It is the slow work of God in our lives because we have slowed down so that he can do the work. 

We’re getting back to REAL life.

What does living life WITH God look like for you?

Rachel for the Quan Clan

 

 

Gotcha Day 2012: I Hope You Love Well

There is something magnificent about 6:45AM, even on a Saturday morning.  It is quiet.  And this morning I am in the quiet, with the espresso brewing, dawn is breaking with a gentle light in the sky and big clouds are moving across the horizon because it is supposed to rain in Houston today.  This particular day I am reflecting on the two most important guys in my life who are sleeping upstairs.  You see, 12 years ago this weekend Dave and I were preparing to welcome Nate home.  I recently reflected on this marker moment a couple of posts ago (Walks With Nate).  I told my close girlfriends at lunch yesterday - "We are so blessed.  Nate is such a great kid, such an amazing human being."  And it's true.

So this is my letter to Nate on the occassion of his 12th Gotcha Day, who might someday decide to read this with fresh eyes, long after he's left my home and gone on to live life independently (sigh).  This blog, in so many ways already, has been my history for him.

Dear Nate,

Watching you dip your toes into the Pacific this summer

I am not sure you will ever fully understand how much my heart longed for you - even before I saw your face, or knew your personality or heard your cry for the first time.  No little boy could have been prayed for as much as you were prayed for - long before we knew who you were and when you were coming into our family.  But, I will never, ever forget the day your Auntie Sue placed you in my arms.  Never.  It was one of the best days of mine and Dad's life together.

You have been a gift far greater than I could have ever imagined when I was dreaming of being a mother.  You have always had this demeanor of quiet strength - and you needed it for all the time you spent in the hospital in those early days.  I love that you remind me of your dad's gracious, kind and mellow personality.  You are so much like him in that way.  And, like your dad, you smile at my passionate, fierce, push-hard ways.  You even laugh.  I love that you and I can laugh about what a quirky mom I can be - so different from you and your dad.

With Dad in Montana

I love that you love others so well.  I love that you care about how someone else feels and have an empathy for the rest of the world that I think is quite rare (again, this is your daddy in you... and your Heavenly Father at work in your soul).  I love that in spite of the fact that you are quite confused about some of the places I boycott eating at out of principle, you love me enough to go along with it and even go out of your way to honor it when I'm not around. 

I love that at 12 you still want to hang with your parents (although I understand that you are wanting to hang with your friends these days too).  I love that you tell me you love me every day after I hand you your sack lunch.  I love that you tell me you love me at random times when we're just padding around the house - and I love that you can say it in Chinese now.  I love that you love spending hours in the Yellowstone River picking up rocks and floating around.  I love that you have the drive and the patience to learn fly fishing and go on a float and encourage your dad even though he's caught the tiniest trout ever.  I love that you love adventure - rollercoasters, nerf gun wars, begging me for the day when you can go sky diving and bunjee jumping off of the Williams Tower in the Galleria (not yet, dear).  I love that you love college football as much as us and that, like your cousins, uncles and father, you know sports trivia in a way that I never will.

Hanging out in San Diego during our trip this past July/August.

And, I loved our trip, just the 2 of us, to California this summer.  I loved our stops at all the In-N-Out Burgers up and down the West Coast and I loved singing "Payphone" with you by Maroon 5 every time it played on our satellite radio (which was a lot this summer since it was apparently at the top of the charts).  I will never hear that song again without thinking of our road trip along the Pacific.  It was one of the best times ever with you and I am so glad you were willing to be my Wingman on that trip.  I'm also glad that because of that song I could tell you what a payphone was. :)

As always, I can't let a message from me slip by without continuing to speak into your life all the things I hope for you.  I hope you know how much Dad and I love you.  I hope you know how much your Chin and Quan families love you and the beautiful legacy each of these families leave for you in the people they are and the ways they have loved you.  I hope you know how much more God loves you - the deepest love you'll ever know is the Source of the love you've experienced in your family life.  I hope you know that whatever you decide to "be" when you grow up, that your heart leads you there and that you do something you love doing with all the love you can do it with.  Changing the world is a large task and I think parents leave their children with the impression that they are raising them to do something big - like be the President of the United States or start the next Apple - and I think you could do those things.  But when I say to you, "I hope you change the world," I mean that "I hope you love well and that the people who are blessed enough to be around you will be changed and bettered because you have loved them well."  I have no idea what that will look like for you.  But, I do know that I don't really care about you being a huge success story like Bill Gates.  I just care that you stay true to the soul that has been developing in you in this little house in Houston - the "kind Jesus heart" we've seen in you all these years and talked about non-stop.

Happy 12th Gotcha Day, Nate.  I could not be more proud of who you are and who you are becoming.  I am so glad I'm your mother. 

Love Always,

Mom



With your families:  The Chins and The Quans



Who I Want to Be When I Grow Up

Roger and Me

As I sat under the stars at the Franciscan Retreat Center in Colorado Springs, I took a deep breath.  Another Thin Place for me.  Roger Fredrikson sat a seat over from me, sharing a story about the time he and his wife Ruth flew to the Soviet Union, surprised they had received visas to go, and visited with the Baptist Church in Moscow.

There were ten of us gathered around the table on the patio.  The night air was perfect, a little warm with a cool breeze that rustled the leaves on the trees every few minutes.  There was red wine (not enough) and white wine (perfectly chilled), sweetly chosen and paid for by my husband.  We had to drink out of coffee cups because that's just what you do when you don't have wine glasses.  The laughter was loud.  The pauses of silence here and there were comfortable. 

The table was enraptured every time Roger spoke.  He spoke of times past, of churches he'd known, of people he loved, of stories about his grandchildren.  He shared a few of his favorite jokes. He choked up in some moments as he shared his heart. He laughed heartily when someone's comments tickled him.  At 91 years of age, Roger's eyes are still a sparkling blue.  His voice is deep and gentle, authoritative and graceful.  His mind is sharp and keen.  And most of all, his heart is pure gold.  My friend Richella likes to say that Roger reflects the glory of heaven.  Roger lives in the Kingdom and has for a long time.  I am certain that even when the man was in his 50s, something about his countenance told people that the veil between this world and the next is quite thin.  Roger has been living with that veil torn open most of his life.  It's what makes him magnetic.  People want to be with Roger.  They want to walk with Roger and talk with him.  They want to share their life with him.  They want to know about this life that has been and continues to be well-lived.

All I know is that I want to be like Roger when I finally grow up.

Roger will probably never see this post, because he has chosen to live simply in his later years.  No cell phone.  No email.  No computer.  Roger does handwritten notes and messages via fax.  Roger is about relationship and real connection.  This humble man is a legend in the American Baptist Community, but he has lived with quiet grace.  As a founding member of the Renovare Ministry Team, Roger has given his life away and in the short time I have known him I have learned much from him about reconciliation, loving people and being present.

Our culture throws age away.  It doesn't value wisdom.  It doesn't seek the counsel of those who have really known life.  It doesn't care to listen to the stories of times past where there is something deep and real to gain.  I will never understand that.  As I have gotten to know Roger these past few months, I have felt cheated.  I leaned over and told my friend, James Catford, that I had missed out on so much.  Why am I just meeting Roger now?  I am sad to think of the years of counsel and wisdom I have missed out on!

So, I told James:  "Remind me of this moment, years from now, when you and I are older.  Remind me of the time we sat under the summer stars with Roger, drinking wine from our coffee cups and hearing him speak of times past and present.  These are rare moments and I need to remember them..."  And James agreed that he would do that and that we would remember that moment shared together.

All I know is, this is real life together.  The kind that Bonhoeffer talked about:

“It is easily forgotten that the fellowship of Christian brethren is a gift of grace, a gift of the Kingdom of God that any day may be taken from us, that the time that still separates us from utter loneliness may be brief indeed.”

 — Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, page 20

My Thin Place

Emigrant Peak at sunset

No, this particular entry is not about weight - or at least about the kind that involves dieting and the shedding of pounds.  When I say "Thin Place" I mean a place, a space, a moment in time, a term first used by Celtic Christians - it's a space described as the place where heaven and earth meet, where the veil between the spiritual and physical world becomes very thin - so thin that you swear you have broken some barrier and are standing on holy ground.  It's a sacred place, one that is not oft experienced.  But, when it is experienced - you remember it, mark it.  You long to return to it.

So it is that the Paradise Valley in Montana is my Thin Place.  And it's the place I return to year after year.  The beauty of it all is that it isn't just my Thin Place - it is Dave's Thin Place and Nate's Thin Place.  And, for the friends and family who have joined us here each year, I would venture to say that they have had a similar experience here.

Brooks and Nate at the Lodge

This is the place where heaven and earth converge for me in a way that I cannot explain and have never been able to replicate in other spaces.  One cannot stand on the banks of the Yellowstone River, looking around at the Absaroka Mountain Range and not sense that something far greater than you has been at work, is at work and will be at work long after our footprints on the shore have been erased.  The veil between the spiritual and physical is always thin around here.  It's thin when the hard winds come down from Yankee Jim Canyon and whip through the cottonwoods.  It's thin when a storm descends on the valley and drops snow on Emigrant Peak.  It's thin as the river rises and falls with the time of year, flowing north, sometimes so swiftly it takes whole trees with it, sometimes lower, slower and clearer - perfect for fly fishing. 

I live in the city year-round - off of a busy street.  I love my home because it is the home I've built with Dave and Nate.  The love that goes in and out of that place throughout a calendar year is special.  And I have experienced a few Thin Places during my journey in the city - Christmas Eve and the lighting of the Christ Candle every year, memorable visits from friends, cuddling on the couch with my now 12-year-old boy (and these days, any cuddling is uncommon and therefore memorable).  But Thin Places are rare, which is why they are special, and in our case, why we leave our city home and come back to the same place summer after summer after summer.

The whole family on the swing at Riversbend Lodge

 Here in the Paradise Valley, when I wake up in the morning, throw open the curtains and the door to our bedroom... and I hear the water moving by, see Emigrant Peak rising above it, I step out on the deck and close my eyes and step into my Thin Place.    When the moon rises over the Absaroka Mountains, perfectly reflected in the river, and the pelicans floating with the current suddenly take flight - quiet, soft, majestic - the boundaries between heaven and earth simply vanish. 

It is our last full day in Montana before we head to Colorado for work.  But, we'll be back.  Because we have realized that without our Thin Place we have a hard time making it through the rest of the year.  As I write this blog and stare up at the mountain, watch the river flow by beneath it, I take every second of it in.  I smell it, breathe it and tuck it away to pull out on a particularly hard day when I can't find my bearings.  Life is meant to be lived this way all the time.  And, we're working on that plan.  In the meantime, we've deliberately slowed down the pace back home as best we can over the years.  We've said "no" to many a thing, we've committed to more of these Thin Place moments, even when we're outside of our favorite place on earth.

Tomorrow we'll pack up and drive out of the valley again - teary eyed and ready for next summer's visit.  I hate to give away our sacred place, but will do so anyway.  A "shout out" to Jeff, Pete and Carol Reed for sharing Riversbend Lodge with us each year.  You know the treasure you have in the lodge and the B&B, and the rest of us have enjoyed being the recipients of this Thin Place.  Of course, we're working on being your neighbors someday. :)

Wherever your Thin Place is - our prayer is that you would find it and live there as much as you can!

-Rachel for the Quan Clan

Walks with Nate

The first time I held Nate - at Hobby Airport

As Mother's Day approaches I am reflecting on one of the best days of my life... September 16, 2000, when the cutest little chubby-cheeked Korean baby boy with Don King hair was placed in my arms at Hobby Airport by my dear friend, Sue Gold.  For those of you in my life that were there, you know how precious this moment was for Dave and I.  It was an out-of-body experience.  Everyone who was there at the gate faded into the background on that beautiful day. I didn't hear much of what anyone said... what I remember from that day is how Nate smelled, how soft his hair was, how squishy his arms and legs were.  We had a stroller at the gate, but why would I have ever used it?  I was going to hold that baby boy all the way to the car because I had waited and waited and waited for that moment... the moment I officially became a mother.

Motherhood didn't come easy for me.  I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say, my journey looked a lot different from others - and since we've been in the realm of adoption, we have found many people who have had a similar journey.  Mothers love their children fiercely, passionately and whether you carried that child in your womb, or in my case, in my heart, this is something that is the same across the board.  I think my journey, however, has given me pause on many a day - because I have noted things in a way I might not have if it had come easy.  With the celebration of both Nate's birthday (in March) and his "Gotcha Day" (in September), we are reminded more often of the gift that he is and the wonder that he has brought to our lives.

On a walk at our favorite park

On this particular Mother's Day I am grateful for my walks with Nate.  On weekdays, it will be just the two of us and Brooks (the Wonder-Dog), sauntering through our neighborhood.  During those walks I try and listen carefully.  Since I am the mother of a boy, I have recognized that I oft don't get a story from him right away.  It comes out in bits and pieces in different conversations and I will string together the entire story from those small reflections he gives me on different occassions.  So I try very hard to listen, to be ready to engage in both silly and deeper conversations.  In spite of knowing this, I think there is always at least 5 minutes in the one hour walk wherein I lapse into lecturing him.  He has now gotten to the age where he can tell me I am doing so and graciously tells me he has heard me.  I didn't say I was perfect!

We have talked about everything under the sun through the years, and even more as he has gotten older.  The other day it was his silly game of "what if" and then the revelation at the end of the walk that he had given one of his "25 point math coupons" to a girl in class who needed it because she had gotten a bad grade and he had four such coupons in his possession from doing so well in class. Her name was Ruth, but he couldn't recall her last name.  I was impressed (and please, if what he did was not legal in the grand scheme of things, let's keep it a secret.  I just loved his heart on this one).    Another memorable walk entailed trying to figure out which Middle School he would go to of the three choices he had. 

The walk where we decided on what Middle School to go to

I always take away a little more about what he's thinking and who he is, how his heart is forming and what his dreams are.  These walks will always be some of my most precious memories as a mother - and I know that one day they won't come as easily when he goes off to college or begins a family of his own.  I can imagine someday in the future when he's all grown up, that we will still find some time to walk together... or I see myself walking with his daughter or son and trying to listen well, to find out more about who they are and what is important to them.

And there's the other side to that coin... the fact that he hears my heart and my dreams and my hopes, that he knows what makes his mom tick and what she feels passionately about, how her faith moves her and her community inspires her.  I hope that during these walks he carries away with him some of those things and perhaps comes to find that a few of those things are worth taking with him and passing on to the next generation.  Because, someday too, he'll have walks with his own children.

We came back from our walk the other day and I asked him - "Do you like walking with me?"  Because he is almost a teenager, his reply was this:  "I don't like walking sometimes because it's exercise.  But I like talking to you, Mom."

Be. Still. My. Heart.  

The Big Yellow Square

I keep all of my old "At a Glance" calendars from years gone by.  My schedule-keeping is quite the process.  Yes, I use Outlook and can track appointments via the little reminders that pop up.  But somewhere a long time ago, before the advent of tracking one's life on a computer, smart phone or the all-knowing "cloud," I started using the big black bound calendar where I could see an entire month at one time.  Those squares would be carefully filled in with all my appointments.  I still do it this way.  I fill in the paper calendar and transfer those appointments to my electronic one. 

For some reason this old fashioned method is necessary to keep me on track, even with electronic bells to remind me that in 15 minutes I have a phone call with someone.  There's something good about hand-writing an appointment down in one of those squares, or being able to easily grab my calendar and hold the entire week and month in one view as I make decisions about meetings or remember Nate and Dave's important dates and times.

I have a plethora of At a Glance calendars.  There are many years shoved on a shelf in my nightstand, and sometimes, when I'm having problems sleeping, I'll look through those old calendars and and have a look-see at past years.  Some months were packed with all sorts of appointments and I can hardly see any white space in there.  Some months have big giant lines running through a few weeks indicating a vacation.  Some months are carefully plotted out and my writing neatly takes me from one day to the next.  Some months are a big jumbled mess where I obviously lost any discipline in the area of time management.

Through the years, the boundaries in my life have shifted and the need and the priority for quiet and solitude, praying and walking, significant time to connect with my husband or my son - well, as you flip through the calendars you will see those times marked clearly in many of the squares that indicate a day.  You see, I have found that if I don't write it in, guard it, mark it - well, it doesn't happen.  Another day gets eaten up by appointments, more phone calls, a meeting that will go much longer than I can even bring myself to write down accurately.  What's the point of being that busy?  Somewhere along the way I will have lost my soul. 

Thus... the Big Yellow Square.  I take a whole calendar year and a yellow highlighter.  I just mark entire days with that yellow color.  I color in one a week and weekends are assumed to be yellow-highlighted days.  That's my one day.  No phone calls.  No appointments.  There is work to be done and I can do that.  But in that big yellow square is a long walk, a day of reflection, sometimes a day of visioning as I sit in Helen's Park with the dog, perhaps a lunch date with Dave and always, always an afternoon date with my son when I pick him up from school.  Of course, this works with my life with Renovare.  We are, after all, a ministry that is all about the balanced life.

But, it worked with the Final Four too.  I still had to go in the office.  But, I had my time to do the things I needed to do.  I wouldn't take phone calls.  I'd take a long walk in Reliant Center (which is two football fields long, so mind you, it was some good walking).  And, yes, one of the perks of being one of the bosses was to say - "hey, I'm leaving early to pick up my son."  Of course, you have to get to the point where people know you are a hard worker and drawing that boundary is one you have earned.  But, I did it.  I stuck to my Big Yellow Square.

A big, long week away from home is ahead for me.  It will be a good week of work in Denver.  But, it will be non-stop for the most part.  So, the following week there are some Big Yellow Squares already waiting for me.  They might entail the mundane errands necessary after being away from my home for awhile, but they will most certainly entail time alone, writing for my soul and serving my family.

We all need Big Yellow Squares on our calendar.  Because something is way off-balance if we are feeling good about the jumbled, over-crowded squares on our calendars.  Being that busy doesn't make us more important.  It doesn't make us better people.  I would argue it doesn't even make us richer.  It just makes us tired.  It causes us to miss some of the most important moments in life.  It pushes relationships to the side in favor of tasks we will never remember that we did.  It leaves our souls starving for the type of time and day that would remind us of who we are, why we're here and what we really ought to be doing.

So, join me!  Go get out your yellow highlighter and get those Big Yellow Square Days on your calendar!

BIG UPDATE:  I posted this on a day when I felt waaaaay out of balance.  The demands of my job have overtaken the space typically occupied by the more important part of my life - my family and my own soul. I've been working so hard to set the path for the ministry that I've taken two steps back, all with the excuse that this is for the "Kingdom."   I should have read my post more carefully... but instead, it took a wigged out talk with my hubby to set me back on the right path (I am grateful for his stern yet gentle ways).  So... I've postponed my work trip to Monday, and will use this weekend to try and regain my footing.  This is life.  We live... and we learn. 

I am not tied to time

Lent is coming to a close.  Holy Week will pause on Friday and then rejoice on Sunday.  The concept of time eludes me.  Here we are, another year, another Lenten Season passed, culminating in a Risen Savior on Easter.  How interesting that the Church is so tied to its calendar year.   As human beings time is everything to us.  We want more of it.  We want it to slow down.  We blink our eyes and our once-baby boy is now a young man and suddenly a father with children of his own.  Time is attached to everything we do and how we do it.  Sci-fi movies about time travel intrigue us, because if we could, we would go back and change things, we would go back and do something differently so that we might live into our futures with less regret.

But time is of no consequence to the Alpha and Omega - the Beginning and the End - the One who created time and holds time in his hands.  Three days in a tomb was a millisecond in heaven.  My own life is but a tiny, tiny spec on the time continuum.  That fact can make a person quite fearful in the grand scheme of things.  But, it can also be a strangely comforting truth.  Because, I belong to the One who is the Alpha and Omega.  My life is held in eternity because of the One who rose from the dead on the third day, who conquered death, who could not be held back by time.   During Advent we are awaiting his birth, during Ephiphany we celebrate that the Messiah was actually here and with us.   During Lent we walk with Jesus to the cross.  On Good Friday we see the sacrifice that is everything our faith is based upon.  And on Easter, we recognize that the sacrifice given could not be held back by any power - not even the power of death that would seem to bring time to a standstill.  At Jesus' Ascension we know that the One who lives will be back, to make all things new, to redeem all. 

Christ is coming.  Christ has come.  Christ will come again.  Time is lost in this truth, and I can rest in it.  Because I do not belong to the constraints of time that humanity has formed around a life. I belong to the One who lives far beyond time.  And I am so, so grateful for that.

Have a blessed Holy Week!

-Rachel