Dignifying Dirt

"...then the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature." Genesis 2:8

There we were: a million little pieces of crushed rocks and roots. We were what mother's now make their son's and daughter's wash off before they eat lunch. We were messy, we were nothing, we had not yet taken form or breathed our first breath... we were dirt. 

I don't know what made Him do it the way He did- the cosmos came from one word, the animals in similar fashion. And then there was us: man. We were made from particles already created, when He had gathered up the seas we were exposed. Soon we would tread upon the clay from whence we came, our newly fashioned feet, our gloriously beaming bodies. But first we had to be pieced together...from dust. 

I see the Ageless eyes looking at a heaping mound of dirt. Twinkling. Ecstatic. He saw something there in that red, brown, rocky powder. He saw fingers and toes, muscles and bones, more than a frame- He saw potential. He saw image bearers, He saw glorious dreamers and risk takers, He saw a declaration to the rest of creation of His goodness and nature. 

Yep, that was us...dirt. 

Wait, what else was there tangled within this soon to be living thing? Ah, yes...sin. It wasn't present in the moment we know that, but it loomed not far ahead. He wasn't oblivious, He knew. He knew we would choose self one day. It looked like pleasure and fulfillment, it looked harmless and sweet... and it would take us out. 

And He considered.

Undeterred by the shadow of death that He foreknew...He dug in. Tilling us up, spreading us out, fashioning, forming, molding. We laid there still- lifeless until He breathed into our deflated lungs. Our eyes opened, we were perfect, we were complete, we laid there and looked at Him and had no idea we would mess it up, and He didn't tell us, because that wasn't the point. 

He made us because out of every part of Him oozed perfect Wisdom and perfect Love. He sees how He wants to see, and with that does what He wants to do.

He saw this powdery substance, treaded on by beasts, home to roots and leaves, undignified... and in His wild creativity and fiery love He gave dignity to the dirt. What has been walked upon, what has been taken for granted, dismissed, and forgotten- He dignified. What was messy and undefined He brought life to, and I am convinced that He has asked us...post dirt, to do the same. 

While I cannot create something from nothing, and I have no ability to make humans from dust, I can see how He sees. I can give dignity to the undignified. They don't have to ask for it, I didn't... I was dirt, what did I know? But He gave it anyway, He pulled us up, brushed us off, breathed into our lungs, and called what was not as though it was.

I believe that I have been wrong in my views of humanity. In my own pain and experience of dirt, I have written people off. I have stereotyped. I have acted superior forgetting underneath my nails a distant home...dirt. 

I want to join His perspective, I want to dignify the "dirt". I want eyes to see what doesn't clearly present itself in my neighbor; regardless of what lies behind or before them, I want to love. Those who are just plain different than me, the ones I have brushed aside and looked down on; because I am still broken and my eyes are dim... I want to love. I don't want to come from over them, I want to dig in, side-by-side, tilling and sowing dignity into lives that need to know they are worth it, that they are seen, and they are loved.

We may have made excuses for our closed off hearts and our hands in our pockets, not so quick to reach out; uncomfortable with those a little messy, those not like us, muddied by life and even their own decisions. But I'm asking Him to help me change: because from the dust, He saw man...and He made man in His own image. 

Living in Yesterday

Time. How we measure life. Seconds build to minutes and then to hours. Soon enough (quite often too soon) the hours result in days passing by, months, and then years. I've heard it said we ought to "live in the present" and I think for the most part I've agreed. It's not a bad rule to follow after all, we're in the present right now. Right...now. Right now. But what about five hours ago or yesterday? What constitutes the present moment of our lives? When did last week become history, the past...not as important as right now?

I'm fighting against time. Actually in more ways than one, after all it is 2:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. Why? Because I have 9 days left of my life in Kansas City. I'm fighting to fit in the present, and reconcile my history here.  I read a quote this evening that said, "The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal." And that is the deal indeed. Without the joy and happiness attached to a person or a season of life, the level of sorrow is significantly lower. Have you ever left a place or a relationship with a sigh of relief? I have, and it wasn't because it was awesome that's for sure. But that sinking feeling in your chest as you see time closing in on you, that's because of joy, because of the people, the history, the journey. 

Now I'm not saying each and every season is solely bliss. Heaven knows my 3 years in Kansas City have been far from that alone. In my first 6 months I lost my step-dad, 18 months later my precious Daddy, and in-between I watched my sister from a computer screen as she laid in a hospital for months at a time fighting to keep her babies alive within her womb. Those my friends, were not joyful times. But I tell you what, from that pain I've been given eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart that has been expanded in my chest. I see starry nights differently, hear other people's stories with more empathy, and love with more gratitude than ever before. I did all that in Kansas City, away from my family, but leaning on a new one...

I've lived with my best friends. I've eaten more cookies than should be permitted in one's lifetime. I've had more living room sing-alongs, dance parties, and heart-to-hearts than I ever could have dreamed. I've talked-it-out, shook-it-off, and let-it-go. I've hugged longer, laughed until I cried from the other side of the wall, and sighed deep content sighs over my kitchen sink. I've cooked over a stove with at least 4 other girls at the same time, worked out and then went on a milkshake run, and power cleaned faster than I thought possible. I've learned their mannerisms, laughed at their quirks, and appreciated them more because of those very same things. I found Jesus in hidden spaces, worked my dream job, and dared to push that dream a little further.   

I've been loved. In-spite of myself, everyday. I've been celebrated, encouraged, and strengthened. I've been held up, understood, and challenged. These people have rallied around me, fought for my destiny, and cried over my losses. 

I could go on and on. I'm looking at my story and the one's who have helped the writing process. I want to make sense of it all, knowing deep down this season of life will continue to unfold in the chapters before me. Yet I'm still trying to take away all that I can right now. I'm taking in expressions from precious faces, listening to laughs and tucking them away, driving down streets and memorizing trees. I'm realizing that my present is made up of history. A big extravagant history. I've been written up to this point by many moments from my yesterday's. It's as though I've been chiseled away at by victories and embarrassments, by disagreements and compromises. I've been molded by dirty dishes, packed out schedules, and learning to say no. I'm shaped by other people's twinkling eyes, guitar melodies, and forgiveness. All of these things are making me, me. And right now...right now. Right now. I'm living in my yesterday's.

Letter to a Little Girl

If I could tell you one thing I would tell you that you are precious. Before you learned to do a single thing, you were more valuable than all the money in the world. You were priceless, worth more than jewels, success, and all my dreams multiplied by a million.

If I could continue on with my words, I would tell you that you make me smile, even when I can't see you. Before you could say my name I enjoyed you, probably more than you enjoyed me. You made me feel homesick when I was away, you made me not want to leave the room when I was near.

When I'm with you I see the flowers better and fall more in love with the water at our feet. You make it new again, you make it fun again. Every song sounds like one we should dance to, every tear you cry should be noticed and tended to. I want to taste everything you taste and smell all that you smell; wondering if we are experiencing the same thing. It's new to you, it's not for me, but afterwards I love it more than before.

With you, messy hair is cute and morning breath is sweet, at least for me. I want to show you the world and protect you from it all at the same time. I see you years from now full of beauty and destiny, and yet...you'll always be the quirky baby blonde that runs funny and talks with a lisp.

If I could tell you a little more, I would tell you that God is good and life is hard. But don't get discouraged with that equation, because where God is there is hope, and hope changes the way we see everything. Making even this often hard life... wonderful!

I would tell you to dream big, big dreams. I would also tell you that the small things matter. You will experience more small things than big, but it's those insignificant day to day's that make you great when the moments of greatness fall upon you.

I would tell you to ask questions and to search them out. Ask hard questions and don't give up finding out the truth. I would tell you to feel what is inside of you. When you are happy, feel it. When you feel sad, cry it out. When you are excited, shout really loud in your room, or your car, or in a park, anywhere...just please feel it. 

You have the cutest little voice now- singing songs only you understand, and I would tell you to keep on singing. You were made to sing. We were all made to sing. Nature likes to sing too, open your ears to hear her. 

Read books and tell yourself stories as you walk past giant trees and rushing rivers. 

I would tell you to look up at least once a day and give yourself permission to wonder, to be amazed, and once you find God, take the time to thank Him too. Jump in the leaves, play in the snow, run barefoot in the sand, lay down in fresh grass.  Look for beauty in unsuspected places, once you look you'll start to find it.

I don't know it all, I am still a long way from figuring it all out. But if I could tell you anything, I would tell you that you could never be loved more than you are right now. Long before school grades and sports teams. Right now when you love makeup only because your Mommy does, and your tiny feet shuffle around in my shoes. Right now when the only boy in your life is Daddy, and Mommy is your best friend.

Long before you ever felt like you deserved or didn't deserve it...

You are lovely.

You are worth fighting for.

You are loved.