The Great Equalizer

I was in the hospital yesterday getting a few tests done. The place was organized and bustling. And, being a people-watcher, I noticed the wide variety of people who had joined me in this busy environment for the morning.

I remember the woman curled up on a very large chair outside the clinic. She looked as though she could fall asleep at any moment. A ways down, an elderly couple were taking care of eachother in the sweetest way. I glanced away, wanting to watch, but not wanting to stare. A business woman had her phone in one hand, her purse in her lap and her sandwich in the other hand. She was multi-tasking.

I endured a series of bloodwork, and was sent on to have a scan of some sort done.
A sweet older lady pulled back a curtain, handed me a robe, and told me I could leave my belongings there.

I put down my purse, and prepared to dress. And, as I removed my carefully chosen turquoise blouse, I remembered how I'd dug through a drawerful of earrings to find the pair that would be the matchy-matchiest. It was a pair I'd bought on the ferry for $2 on discount. I'm thrifty that way.
I pulled on the powder blue robe I'd been handed. Fiddled with the tie strings a bit. Did my best to reduce the amount of bare-naked skin that could be visible. Images of sitcom robe mishaps kept me motivated. I was done. I checked and re-checked. Yep. I was covered. And, this blue was not my colour.

I left my things in a neat pile. You know, in case anyone peered in. I didn't want them to think I was messy individual. (Which I am.)
Deep breath in and I pulled back the curtain and looked across the room to find a place to sit. I nestled in on a row with two other women. We were wearing the same designer. And as I sat back and picked up the Maclean's magazine beside me I had a realization.

Hospital robes are an equalizer.

There we sat, three different women. Three different walks of life. The lovely lady next to me had a beautiful British accent. Gentle eyes, and an undying love for elephants. The lady next to her had limped in. And, there we all sat. Robed in blue. Waiting. I didn't know who was rich or poor. Healthiest. Dying. Important. Lonely. Full of life. I didn't know whose family would be supportive, and who would go home alone. All I knew is that we were three ladies at the mercy of our broken bodies, robed in a light-blue cotton shroud, preparing for a test. A test whose results would mean SOMETHING.

And then I pretended to flip through the magazine as she explained the horrors of the abuse of animals. I was shocked at the information she was telling me. How could people do this?

Sin.

Sin and ugliness. That's why.

I thought about the gospel. Sin, brokenness, failure, hardship. I remember that at one point I sat broken, robed in our my failure. I was trying so hard to conceal my sinful nakedness. Hoping I'd tied things up just right.

And I thought about that point in my life when I faced it. I had had enough. I had to deal with it. My mortality. My sin. My God.
The Great Physician. I took it to Him. And, He saw right through me. He called it what it was. I acknowledged that he was right to call it sin. And, many many years ago, and even today and tomorrow he's cleansed and purified me. And the important parts of me are whole again. Unbroken, unstained, unashamed. Nothing to hide. And since He is for me, I cannot be afraid.

And, now I enjoy a fellowship with believers. People who too, at one point sat, robed in sin, overcome by their personal hell. People who lifted their eyes and received in them the healing they desperately needed. The kind of healing only God can do.
We have all been equalized by sin, yes. And, we have all been equalized by Grace.

Still flipping pages, my name was called. And, I followed the young man to the designated room. And within minutes, I was scanned and dressed again.

Derek found me, and we waited for the last appointment as we shared a coffee in the cafe.
I was busy people-watching again. Tall, short, busy, tired. Professionals. Dudes. Elegant. Young. Old.
And then the British lady walked past. I smiled. She nodded.
We were dressed in our street clothes again. She looked lovely. I matched my earrings to my blouse.

We are equal. We live in bodies that betray us. We privately deal with sin that divides us.
And we all have access to that Grace that can save us from ourselves.
If we would just lay down our robe of sin. And take on His robes of righteousness.

"I am overwhelmed with joy in the LORD my God! For he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness..." Isaiah 61:10
"There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28

The mystery of the coffee grinder and the door.

I haven't committed to posting everyday, so don't get it twisted. It's just that this morning's cup of coffee is particularly good.
My husband is a reader. A committed self-educator. And, from time to time, he shares tidbits of his readings with me. A few days back, he told me that he read that the best way to start the day is to avoid social media, emails, answering messages - but instead to do a few things that were important to you, nourishing things, the things only you can do.
Every morning, I hear him leave the room and within minutes I hear the coffee grinder and the unmistakable sound of him trying to close the 100 year old door to our office/art studio. He will emerge a few hours later, ready to begin his work day. And, if I'm curious or not particularly sleepy, sometimes I'll follow a few minutes later, grab my laptop and mumble "good morning". (I try to be convincing.)
It used to be a mystery to me what he did in there. I thought he was just getting a head-start on his work. After all, his personal book pile and his work book pile look an awful lot alike.
But, over the last few years, I've solved the mystery of the coffee grinder and the door. He has developed a discipline that I lack: He takes care of his soul.
The man has a multitude of responsibilities. He works hard for our local congregation. He loves the church Canada-wide. He counsels. He prays. He preaches, he teaches. He lives to be interrupted by phone calls - some silly, some dire. But he takes them all. He writes, he reads, he hears, folds, washes, fixes, pays bills, coaches, instructs, cares, adores, romances, jokes, mentors, hurts, grieves...

And in the morning, he goes off alone to read and pray.

He tells me that the problem with starting the day with social media is that social media is an uninterrupted river for other peoples' problems to be poured right into your lap. (I became defensive right there. After all, aren't we "helpers"?) Then he finishes his thought.

"Social media brings other people's problems right to your lap. And, often - not always- there's nothing you can do about their struggles. Social media is a few minutes every morning of unfiltered problem-sharing."

Selfies, gossip, articles, quotes, recipes, weather, funny videos, relationships, break-ups, finger-pointing, amnesty, Harper, Obama, fiery deaths, beheadings, ISIS...

No wonder he starts the day shrouded in the mystery that is prayer.

I guess he would rather flip on the light, before he heads into a room of darkness.

"Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed." Mark 1:35

I suppose I should, too.

-Jennifer-

Pure and undefiled water

My mom told me I should be writing again.
Here's to hoping she doesn't regret that.

This morning I was reflecting on yesterday's work - my watercolours. And, I sat myself up to continue watercolouring today. Before me sat two glasses of water. One was still a murky green from the days' work before. The other was clearer... a lemon yellow. But I smiled to myself, because I knew the story of the two glasses.

Yesterday, I had completed a set of tasks that would set me up for the rest of the day. The usual morning routine... I brushed my hair and teeth. Washed the face. Took the vitamins. Sipped on breakfast. Poured myself the second tall glass of water for the morning. I've neglected myself too long. This is one thing in a series of small life-changing habits I've taken on. Small, but significant. I'd been doing it for months now. I brought it with me to my impromtpu living room art studio. I was on a roll. Health AND Art. Separate but equal. Well, mostly.

I had my work out before me. A glass of rinse water, paintbrushes, watercolours, watercolour pencils, paper, ideas, stories, quiet... My mind was swirling with ideas, concepts, interrupted by technique, and spurred on by moments of clarity. I was in the zone.

In the midst of my ideas, layers of paint, splashes of water and mixing of colours, I'd sip my drinking water and paint. And, with the second glass, I'd refresh my paintbrush, turning the water a moss green. Sipping, painting, rinsing. Colours, washes, composition. Sip. Paint. Rinse.

And for one brief moment, I was interrupted by my son who had a very deep religious question for me. Paintbrushes down, I reached for my drinking water and leaned back on the couch. This was important.

I lifted to sip, and the drinking water was yellow.

Somewhere along the way, I got my two glasses mixed up.

I didn't fuss. I put the glass down. I listened and coached when he asked. Dad joined in the conversation. I glanced at my work. Had another idea, but pushed it aside - my kid was asking good questions.

Questions, answers, ideas, relating. We were sipping on fellowship. More questions, challenges, thoughts, and art interruptions - was that wash too light? Do I need to go over it?

I picked up my paintbrush. I thought I could paint and listen.

I thought I did.

The conversation ended, and I had accomplished a little more. I mean, I thought it looked better? Sorta?

But here's the question. Did I do either very well? When my resolve was to listen, and I put the paintbrushes down, he had my full attention. When I picked them up again, my mind was divided. Washes, colour, splashing, philosophy, religion, human kindness, love, care, judgement, splash, wash, rinse.


I didn't do well. I rinsed in my drinking glass.


But this was just one incident right? This never happens any other time with anything else?


I'm starting to see the fault in multi-tasking.


And I just want pure water.


And speaking of pure:
"Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep onself unstained from the world." James 1:24


-Jennifer-