This is the kind of work I want to make. Simple. Beautiful. Truthful. A visual feast. Elicits interaction and discovery. Delights. Conjures laughter. Contains within it the sacred and mysterious. Makes you cry with joy.

Not sure what form it will take, but I know it will first require that I get out of the way.

Video via RadioLab (watch this video big on itunes….it will knock your socks off)

I’ve been thinkin’ on love, lately.

Mostly because a post I wrote a couple months ago got me thinking a lot about the areas of my heart that are holding onto bad definitions….and maybe not even bad per se, but just…I don’t  know…limited.

My definitions tend to be one dimensional.  Focused on what would make me happy right now or what I think is fair.  When faced by reality, though, they don’t tend to hold up very well….or work out….or give joy.  And I keep running up against these walls I’ve designed – discovering the small space I have constructed speaks nothing of the “broad place” I have been set down in (psalm 18:19, 31:8). And since that first post, I would say not a week has gone by where the topic or the word “redefine” hasn’t popped up in one form or another.  So…I’d like to start exploring some of those areas and share the bits and pieces here on Rough Hewn.

I realize I picked kind of a doozy to start with….LOVE. Right?  Seems kind of like trying to find a definition for “good” art. Or trying to pick up something with oily hands.  Hard to grasp and it tends to slip out of your hands the moment you think you’ve got a good grip on it.

I think I’ll be surprised by what I find…love in different flavors. Real love. Complicated love.  The kind that gives life. The kind that allows death.  The kind that leaves us dissatisfied with anything less.  The kind that risks it all.  It will probably be something I’ve rarely, if ever, seen in a movie.  And it might not always involve a feeling.

I can’t help but think about other things that need life breathed into them.  Beautiful. Romantic. Weak. Significant. Safe. Forgiven. Meaningful. Right. Wrong. Blessed. Comfortable. Strong. Fair. Deserving. Clean. Full…..looks like I have a life’s worth of work ahead of me. Bring on the wrecking ball.

This morning I was going through my list of blogs I check on a regular basis, and unbeknownst to me, Victoria over at sfgirbybay mentioned my blog-it forward post on her site in a post sharing some of the posts she had been enjoying from the mash-ups.  My heart did a little toe touch and thought I would share a little shameless self-promotion!

Thursdays are my Fridays so I’m excited to get into this holiday weekend.  How will you be contemplating Good Friday?  What traditions do you look forward to on Easter?  Favorite Easter candy?

Look! It's rough hewn!

Some things need a little re:defining.

As I came into work on the bus this morning, I got to thinking about definitions.  Specifically the areas in my heart and mind that have definitive expectations for how particular things should look or more importantly feel like.  I had been thinking on the verses in Psalm 31 that say, “I will rejoice and be glad in your steadfast love, because you have seen my affliction; you have known the distress of my soul, and you have not delivered me into the hand of the enemy; you have set my feet in a broad place.” And I found myself struggling to receive more than an intellectual understanding of what His steadfast love was for me – especially on one of those days where my thoughts wouldn’t seem to settle and faith felt like the looks of a taffy pulling machine. Slow. Stretched.

And you know, I think deep down there, below all the right answers and verses was my own definition of steadfast love that I cared more about having than what real love may be.  My definition of his steadfast love would be that I am never in affliction and that there is no distress in my soul.

Later on in the morning I was reading my friend Paul’s blog and the cry of his night-shift weary heart was proclaiming God’s glory through his weakness, “May I receive the greatest joy in all of life knowing you are being glorified, and I get the privilege of giving you all glory.” Humbled, I was stopped short by the idea of “bringing God glory” suddenly seeming so illogical to me.  How could the taffy puller in my heart possibly be glorifying him?  I felt so stubborn.  Ungrateful. Confused. Lost.  My own definition of adequately glorifying him was a picture of me serving children in foreign countries, smiling, singing worship songs, okay with my job, content in my singleness, fulfilled by Christ fully and not anything or anyone else, feeling like I had and was pursuing my calling, totally selfless.

This morning I felt the opposite from that.  It’s hard to see any glory in that.

But maybe my definitions are wrong.

Jesus says that when we are weak he is strong.  And for as long or as hard as I fight against that weakness, trying to muster up the strength on my own – I have to concede that it is truly His strength that leads me moment to moment on those days, like today, where I don’t feel very “christian” at all and all my definitions seem to fail me.

And right there are a couple more re:definitions. Grace. Mercy.

Sometimes you have to mark the moment.

I never thought I’d find myself in a situation where I would be unpacking the boxes I found myself packing a few days before.  The by-product of a whirlwind “I’m moving/not moving” scenario that has unfolded in the last two weeks. It’s a good thing I was lazy and didn’t get too far, right? But nonetheless, I find myself unpacking and putting things back where they belong but also dreaming up new ways of looking at my living space and my collection of bits and pieces.

Somewhere in the mix are a couple of bags of stones that will eventually make their way back to a vase in my room.  One might wonder why I keep lugging around bags of rocks to each new home, but they are much more than just modern decoration.

These rocks are my altars.

Or as my Grandma P would say – my Ebenezers. And they are – literally that. I decided to follow the lead of my bro Abraham, collecting them as a way of marking conversations with the Lord.  Significant moments. Times of wrestling.  Many of them are specifically from a long season of unemployment I had just after graduating college, when I would walk down to the beach by my parents house and wrestle it all out before the Lord.  I said many things during those conversations with Him but they usually went a little like the lines so perfectly written by JJ Heller…

I am tryin’ to understand
how to walk this weary land
make straight the paths that crooked lie
Oh Lord before these feet of mine
Oh Lord before these feet of mine

And He would remind me that…

When my world is shaking
Heaven stands.
When my heart is breaking
I never leave [His} hands.

And for all the wrestling and questions – he would ultimately lead me by the hand to rest. To trust.

So as I daily pass my stack of altars, holding one in my hand.  Feeling the smoothness round and round – I’m reminded to selah.  Be Still.

When the waiting comes to an end.  What then?

My family and I celebrated Christmas early this year.

I’ll admit it was a little weird.  Driving home I half expected the rest of the world to be closed for business.  At home with their respective families celebrating, eating, tearing away at paper.  But they weren’t. They were experiencing December 19th.  Not faux December 25th, like me.

It’s left this week leading up to Christmas – the real one – to feel…well….like a normal week.  It got me thinking about what really makes Christmas feel like it does.  I know I’m supposed to say – Jesus – yes, Jesus is the reason for the season, but even in that I’ve discovered it all comes down to one thing.  Anticipation.

There is this painting of the angel visiting Mary by Henry Osawa Tanner and it’s probably the most down to earth and realistic depictions I have ever seen of this event.  She sits there, noticeably shaken and in awe, young in both age and  life experience, and yet there is this sense that she is willing to receive whatever it is that may be coming up next. However crazy it may seem.

She has been waiting for a savior to come.  She will wait nine months as he forms and grows inside her. She will rear him, teach him, hold him, feed him. Then she will look up one day, and he will be dying for her.  What then?  A lifetime of anticipation and there it is in one act.  What now?

Receive.

Which I’m realizing is harder than it might seem.  There are countless things that call out for my attention.  When will I be older?  What will high school be like?  When will I get my license? College? Who will that person be that I will marry?  My kids?  Will they be anything like me?  It ends up that once I’m done with one milestone, I’m off and on to the next thing.  That window of time where the act of receiving feels more like grace rather than the necessary result of all my striving starts becoming shorter and shorter.  And I think the reason is that in that space between wanting and receiving and then wanting again, I’m not really sure what to do.  And that’s it right there. I don’t have to do anything.  I can’t do anything.  I get to enjoy.  Delight in.  Revel.

I came across a beautiful poem by Anne Jackson yesterday – Holy, Restless Anticipation – and it’s words resonate with everything the Lord has been whispering to me lately…

Stay right here a little while

Stay right here my dear

Hear me whisper to your heart

And take away your fear

Two days from now we will all be in the weird space together.  Hungover from all the presents and gearing up to change the world – or at least our little one – in 2010.  And I guess before I make promises I may have no intention of keeping, I want to think about some promises that have always been kept and will never change.  May anticipation drive me forward this year, not to mindless work, or to discontent – but to rest and joy.

It’s HERE!

The Christmas (retail) Holiday Season, that is! Earlier and earlier every year, it seems.  I overheard a barista being asked this weekend if he had eggnog yet.  Which he didn’t.  He said to the guy, “Yeah, we’re getting it in a couple weeks.  Didn’t know that Christmas started after Halloween.”  He was totally serious about it, which made it awesome.

It’s interesting thinking about what is already here – Thanksgiving (next week!) -  and then what is not here anymore, namely a bunch of my gear, cause my house got tricked and treated Halloween night.  I’ve been robbed before, but I found myself getting really sad about the photo shoot I had done that day.  All of the conversations I had with business owners and cafe people, their generosity with their time, their hopeful expectations of the photos of their pride and joy.  All of it gone.

I’ve had a few weeks to let it all sink in, and somehow it helps to celebrate the holiday season ridiculously early as a way of softening the blow.  I find that without technology my nights and weekends have more time for knitting, writing, organizing photo albums….reading….cooking.  Not a bad upside, I’d say.

Thought I would share a couple of photos from the upcoming Comfort & Joy holiday campaign I’ve been shooting and designing over the past couple of weeks.  In my continuing effort to further my brothers modeling career, I put him smack dab on the cover (not to mention on banners hanging in store windows, and in the next few weeks – Public Television!).

The last few campaigns I’ve found that in my creative process  I will hit a wall and feel completely lost.  Then a few days later I will look out on the designs/images I have created and find that there is no logical explanation for how it all managed to come together.  Not from me, that’s for sure.  I have to give credit to my Savior. Seriously.  I find that it’s not logical because the creative process is so…other.  Spiritual? Maybe. But that sounds very…Oprah.  The video below is the closest I can come to the description of the emotional roller coaster creatives are on when they create work and the ultimate realization that we must make that we are merely co-conspirators in all of this.  I’m not sure of Gilbert’s belief in God, but I know that what she is saying is worth talking about and makes sense when you look at it from a Christian perspective.  My job is to show up.  Be faithful with the talents I’ve been given.  And marvel in the grace of getting to revel in the benefits of a job well done.

I could tell the weather on the street was completely different than the weather I had left at work.  The wind was whistling and moving and swirling through the deep staircase of the bus tunnel in a way that made me wonder if I’d end up like one of the nannies at the beginning of Mary Poppins.  Being alone on the staircase, I smiled and played along with it, pretending as if the wind had caught be by surprise and was pulling me up the winding staircase against my will.

The wind was still being mischeivous even as I walked to my bus stop.  It felt like it was playing tag between the tall buildings, alleyways, and dark corners – barrelling up from the Sound through the streets.  Would I be able to resist its pushes and pulls? Could it knock me over.  Running for shelter and safety under cover, the wind gave one more nudge to my purse – blowing it right off!

As I waited I began to notice the leaves.  One moment one would be on the ground, resting as it always had and the next moment – like a shot – it would be caught up in it.  The wind. The dance.

Think about it.  Imagine you’re a leaf.  Sitting there just minding your own business, resigned to the position in which you have ultimately fallen or come to rest.  Only to, in a second, be shot up into heights you never could have imagined existing, let alone, going.  It looked pretty fake – as if each leaf had a string attached – like bad special effects in an old movie.

But I wonder if my life might feel like that someday.  Soon even.  Everything going along seemingly normal until I find myself, in a flash, caught up by a strength much bigger than myself.  Batted around to and fro – so chaotic seeming – but in new heights I’d never would have thought I’d ever experience.

I try so hard to plan and calculate how I am going to get from point A to point B in my life.  But even if I succeed in my plans, do I ever get as far as I might if I’d allowed myself to get carried along? Making sure to enjoy the time in each place, however long I might be there, before getting picked up once again.

When there are no words – images take over.

Tuesday, I attended the service of a dear man and friend -  Andrew McConnell -  who died last Monday serving our country in Afghanistan.  I first met Andrew because he was dating my friend and roommate, Sarah. Right away I was drawn in by his energy, enthusiasm, and ability to be intensely interested in whatever you might be talking about.  His words were fast, but truly genuine.  I remember standing with Sarah in our kitchen, hearing about their budding romance and thinking – this is it.  This makes sense.  They are getting married.

And they did.  About a month and a half later.

This situation is something completely new to a lot of us who knew him – being confronted for the first time with the consequences and weight of war.  You think about what it’s really for.  You think about fairness and wonder why someone who was such a joy and gift to others had to leave us so soon.  Why he  didn’t get the opportunity to see his first child.  We are left here refashioning our previous definitions and trusting that God is leading us to better ones – ones that reflect more closely the truth that our ways of understanding life and Him are ultimately limiting.

Andrew is hanging out with Jesus, now.  Super jazzed and jumping around, I’m sure.  It will be memories of our talks about faith, his passion for leading men, and his love for Sarah and the Lord that I will string together and cherish.  I was blessed to know him – but know not to be sad too long because it is he who is now truly free.

Sgt. Andrew Harron McConnell

January 1, 1985 – September 14, 2009

TOP TEN FACTS ABOUT TODAY

1. The Great Moon Hoax (1835)
2. The Yellow Cab Company is started (1910)
3. Liberation of Paris (1944)
4. Mount Vesuvious erupts burying Pompeii (79 A.D.)
5. Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly nonstop across the United States. (1932)
6. The Nicene Creed establishes the doctrine of the trinity. (325 A.D.)
7. Countess Jacoba of Bavaria escapes from jail. (1425)
8. New Orleans founded by hundreds of French colonists. (1718)
9. Elton John’s first U.S. appearance. (1970)
10. My dear dear friend Alyssa is born! Happy Birthday! (1981)