Category Archives: strength

a Word for all seasons…

I remember the day he broke my heart. After a week long vacation of exploring his neck of the woods and getting to know his family, he told me we were “over.” The next morning he drove me to the airport and put me on a plane headed north, back to my parents. I was devastated. Nothing… no words, no Kleenex, not even the kind nun sitting next to me could absorb my grief.
Some pains need some time to work themselves out of a heart. Perhaps you understand.
This particular pain would be no different. I spent the rest of my summer licking my wounds, even having thoughts of transferring to another college. My parents were wonderfully supportive. I don’t think they’d ever seen their baby girl cry so many tears. They loved me back to functioning health, and when September rolled around I made the one mile trek back to college (a hometown school) with a stiff upper lip and a gaping wound.
Asbury College was and still is a relatively small campus. Everybody knew everybody, and everybody knew—almost before returning to the fall semester—that I was suffering with a broken heart. There was a huge “elephant in the room” walking through the campus grounds that semester; everywhere I turned, he was there… not the elephant, but the boy that I loved. He quickly moved on to loving someone else. My heart’s pace walked a bit more slowly. And I never thought my tears would end.
But they did, and now some twenty-seven years down the road, I reflect on that season of my first heartbreak and just exactly where the turnaround began.
It began with the Word of God.
I’ve been a church girl all of my life… loved Jesus, known Jesus from the cradle. I’ve heard his stories, sung his songs, claimed his love, and walked some faith from the earliest of articulations. Along the way, there have been strong moments of clarity regarding my commitment to Christ, and my sophomore year in college would prove to be one of them.
As a teenager I began to lightly study the Bible. My youth pastor and his wife beautifully depicted for me what it meant to walk in discipleship with Christ; as a youth, I memorized a lot of Scripture as a requirement for participation in various missions’ trips. But rigorous Bible study wouldn’t happen for me until my late thirties. Up until that time, it was a gradual “heating up” of my heart and my developing a rich appreciation for what God’s Word could do for me.
In the fall of 1984, God turned up the heat a notch, and I found a scripture (perhaps it found me) that would become my saving grace for that painful season. I don’t know how I happened upon it, but as I did, I was sure that God had penned it into holy writ as a postscript just for me. I didn’t know what to call it then—“it” being when the Word (Logos) of God becomes a personal, spoken word (Rhema) to my heart. Thankfully, my lack of understanding didn’t get in the way of my receiving. Instead, I let it wrap its blanketing warmth around my heart. I quoted it over and over again until it became my certainty, and today (ever time I think on it or hear it quoted by another), I cannot help but attach a memory or two from that season alongside it.
It was the anchor that held me…
“Therefore, we do not lose heart; though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. Therefore, we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Cor. 4:16-18)
Twenty-seven years ago, my heart was in trouble. At eighteen years of age, that break-up was the largest “momentary trouble” I’d ever faced. I’m so glad that God doesn’t weigh out our needs before giving us his Scripture… as if some verses are reserved for those more sorely troubled. We’re blessed to receive the entirety of God’s Word as a personal anchor for all seasons, whether the heartache is perceived to be big or small.
My heart has moved on from the summer of 1984. My light and momentary troubles have changed over the years. There were more heart “aches” to follow that initial one, and as they arrived, even more of God’s Word to comfort and anchor my weary soul. But I’ve never forgotten that beginning “word” that helped me through that rough patch, and friends, I don’t suppose I’ll ever forget the current “word” that has helped me through this recent rough one.
It “found” me in much the same way as 2 Cor. 4:16-18 did in 1984… almost as if God had penned a postscript into Scripture just for me. Even though I had read it before, I’d never read it through the eyes of personal suffering. It gripped me seven months ago. It grips me still. It has been and will continue to be the anchor that holds me in the days to come…
“And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.” (1 Peter 5:10-11).
God himself… restoring me. God using the best of what man has to offer me, but in the end, God himself… restoring me. Renewing me. Making me strong and firm in my footing and steadfast in my faith. Father God laying brick upon brick between mortar mixed by his own hands, making sure that the broken walls before him are restored to a beauty not yet seen. A loveliness not yet imagined.
Many doctors, nurses, friends, family members, and even strangers have held my hands in recent days, speeding me on toward my recovery. But only One has held my heart, making me his priority and making sure that I arrive safely there. Only God is capable of such healing. Only God knows when enough is enough. Only God holds the words, writes the words, and speaks the words that can truly tether a soul to eternity.
Perhaps today you need a word from God as well. Perhaps you’ve already claimed one as your personal postscript from his hand. Perhaps you’d like to use one of mine. God’s Word is a foothold for all seasons, including all manner of heartbreaks, heart “aches.” If your heart is filled with ample tears in this moment, then God’s Word is you answer. It’s filled with truth; it breathes everlasting. Dig in and take hold.
To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.
Peace for the journey,
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PS: A special thanks to Sheri for starting a scholarship fund for my attendance at She Speaks this year; I am humbled by her kindness.
Layers…

Layers…

This morning, I found myself wishing that I was anywhere else but there… in that sterile environment, awaiting my turn at the scan machine. The milky cocktail I was given to drink (at least a quart by my estimation) messed with my stomach, more so with my mind. The “IV”? Just another reminder to me that pricks and pokes and prods will be the order of the day for the season to come.
And it was cold. And I was shivering… even through the two layers of warm blankets kindly extended to me by the radiologist.
Tears found their way down my cheeks on several occasions, and when I went into the round doughnut to play “dead” for at least forty minutes, my arms were strapped to my side. I had to remind my radiologist of my recent double-mastectomy that currently limits my range of motion. Holding my arms in the normal posture (over my head) was out of the question, thus the large velcro binding that fastened them to my side. And while I know in my head that this is nothing compared to what is coming in just a few days, it all felt too much, too scary, too “out-of-the-way” for the path that I’m on.
And I wished that it was over. All of it. That, perhaps, I could skip this “layer” and let my heart “catch up with the last layer” before moving on. That what is would quickly morph into what was and that my life didn’t have to walk this particular bend in the road.
But then ten o’clock arrived. Needles were removed; warmth re-established; hunger abated by a cookie at the cancer lounge before my departure. And I was thankful for the finish, for completing this layer and for its finishing work in me. I’m not keen on repeating it, but something tells me it’s now woven into my story and should it require an encore somewhere down the road, it will hold less mystery and more normalcy for my pilgrim heart.
Thanks for your prayers. Thanks for allowing your heart to walk this layer with me. I want to leave you with a beautiful “gift” my Uncle Bill gave to me this week… another poem! Laura, I know you’re laughing out loud, because you know my penchant for poetry in general. But this one is special—written from a tenderness and depth of understanding that pulls at my pain while alleviating it… all in the same breath.
What layers are you living this day, my good, kind, and compassionate friends?
Live them with the end in mind. As always…
Peace for the journey,
~elaine
Layers –
whether it’s a cake
or a life,
layers.
Time takes time
to do its thing,
layers.
Chapters, changes,
just-around-the-corner
challenges,
layers.
Sometimes they stack up
too fast, too high,
and when we try to peel them back
the new ones get in the way,
layers.
Lord, please hold the next one –
I would like to catch up
with the last one.
I’m lost in the
layers.
From a far,
the strata of my life is textured
with beautiful pain
that cries me to sleep
into a perfect dream,
a dream of
layers,
of colors that will not quit,
of sound and scent
that usher me toward the Holy
and helps me lean into the morning,
into the
layers
of a new day
where awareness whispers
My gratitude is greater than my pain,
my attitude is whole, and I shall remain…
Elaine – now and forevermore –
layered with a joyous childhood,
enriched through study,
toughened by circumstance,
blessed with romance,
fulfilled by family,
and completed by faith –
yes, I am Faith Elaine Killian Woods Olsen,
and don’t you forget it!
In those five names,
there are enough
 
layers
 
to carry me for a thousand years.
{written by Bill Killian, Sr.
a poem for Elaine Olsen, my niece
Sunday, September 19, 2010}
enough…

enough…


I tucked her under my arm and drew her close to my heart as I whispered,

This is enough, God. This is enough. This is real love… true love; love not based on performance or preference but loved based on personhood… on the truth that I am her mother and that fact, alone, is enough to warrant her affection.

Thank God she doesn’t wait until I get it right—until I jump through enough hoops or stroke her ego in hopes of negotiating her favor. She gives me her favor regardless. She loves me, most days in spite of me, because God has put it in heart to do so. He’s put it in the hearts of my other children as well.

I am a well-loved mother. A well-loved wife. A well-loved daughter. God has surrounded me with a select circle of connections to remind me, in part, of his unconditional love toward me. Through them, I come to better understand God’s “enough.” His enough continually spills forth on my behalf because I am his child, his created delight, his joy and his crown. Never once has he forgotten me, neglected me, forsaken or abandoned me.

God’s love isn’t based on my performance or on his personal preferences, but rather based on my personhood… on the truth that I am his child and that fact, alone, is enough to warrant his everlasting affection toward me.

God loves me because it is in heart to do so, and tonight I am grateful for his unchanging nature and all-powerful ability to keep to the task of loving me, preferring me, especially on days when it seems that the world prefers otherwise. Today, I stand on the truth of who I am in Jesus Christ.

Loved.
Chosen.
Adored.
Preferred.
Royal.
Dear.
Heiress.
Forgiven.
Beautiful.
Righteous.
Needed.
Longed for.
Bride.

This is who you are as well. The world may beg to differ, may stand in line to voice otherwise. I understand. But rather than believing them, would you be willing, even as I am willing, to cast those lies into the pit of hell where they belong and, instead, cloak ourselves with the mantle of what our King has to say in the matter? His witness is the one that counts, friends, not the testimonies of those whose “love” for us is tainted by fleshly focus and personal preferences.

We will never be able to exceed people’s expectations of us. Most days, we’ll fall quite short of what they want, but with Jesus, we find our balance. We exceed human expectation because his expectations for us aren’t based on us, but rather on his Spirit living within us. And when we walk in cooperation with his Spirit, when we understand that “greater is he that is in us than he that is in the world,” then we are able to walk above and beyond the expectations that are being leveled in our direction.

True love comes from God. Every now and again, we taste it via humanity. Most often, though, we miss is because of humanity. If we’re not careful, we’ll “live” there… settle in there, instead of settling in the place of sacred understanding. This is a dismal response to the truth of what God intends for our lives.

I want to love truly. I want to be truly loved. I want to love God’s way; I want to be loved God’s way. And while I cannot control the loving responses of others, with God’s help, I can control mine. I want my love to be enough for my children, my spouse, my friends, my world. I want them and you to be able to tuck my love in tightly and voice it as enough—as comforting, as peaceful, as certain, and as re-assuring as you need it to be.

I don’t want to base my love for you on your performance or my personal preferences; instead, I want the fact of your personhood—your “created in the image of God” status—to be the basis for my affection. I’m not fully there, but I am working on it. By God’s grace and through his Spirit, true love will become my norm rather than my exception.

It’s been a hard day to love, friends. At this point, I’m not sure how to move beyond my feelings, but I am confident of this…

I’ve got a family who loves me, and a God who loves me all the more, and it is enough to carry me through the night. The sun will rise in the morning to bring its witness to the day, and the Son will rise in my heart to bring his witness to my authenticity.

And that is enough. He is enough.

Living in his enough this night…

PS: I need your help… ASAP… I scrolled back through some of my previous older posts (from August of this year backward and am noticing that my comments are being deleted by someone). I have a suspicion it’s coming from a URL in Mountainview, California. I’m not sure this is a blogger issue or not, but if this is coming from another hacker, I’m on to you and will continue to pursue this until I get an answer. Anyone else having this issue?

Copyright © December 2009 – Elaine Olsen

a noble hero

I want to tell you about a real hero tonight; not the one getting all the press in the media for his efforts at the peace-making process.

My hero sits alone this evening, on the front porch of her home in a rocking chair, reeling from the extreme after-effects of having been brutally attacked by a neighboring dog on Monday morning. After returning home from taking her two young children to school, she noticed the dog on her front porch. Normally, he was chained two doors down, but today he enjoyed open range in the neighborhood.

Wanting to help out her neighbors, my friend went inside to retrieve her rain coat with the idea of walking the dog back home. When she returned to the porch, the dog was gone. She continued down the sidewalk to knock on the owners’ door in order to inform them of their dog’s “loosened” estate.

She never made it. Instead, the dog leaped out from his hiddenness and began a ten-minute assault on her fragile frame. She was no match for his 130 pounds. He tossed her like a rag doll, mutilating her flesh while she screamed out her resistance. The owners of the dog emerged to their front porch, shouting out the dog’s name but never stepping a foot in her direction to help. Another neighboring man ran to her aid with shovel in hand and began to beat back the vicious animal.

When the police arrived, the dog aimed his attack in their direction. Fortunately, they were well armed and rectified the situation in swift order. His attacking days are over, but the wounds he inflicted remain. Long after her flesh has healed, long after the process of reconstructive surgery is over, the wounding my friend has received will write as scars into her history. I imagine the pain from Monday’s attack will live in her memory for a long season.

As I sat with her on the porch this evening, I saw her strength displayed through her words, despite the flowered memorial erected to the dog just feet away from her front lawn. It sickened me to see it and reminded me of how shaded the lenses have become in our society. How we prize self-preservation over another’s pain and suffering. How callous we sometimes are in our blatant disregard for our brothers and sisters who live next door, and who, occasionally need our shovels instead of our shouts.


Where are the hands that are willing to get dirty on behalf of someone in need? Where are the hearts that are willing to bleed so that a neighbor can go free from the vicious clenches of the enemy? How far are we willing to go to save the life of a human being? Is our shouting enough? Is our wishing it wouldn’t happen enough? When evil comes knocking at a neighbor’s door, do we retreat to the shadows of our dens and our morning talk shows, or do we launch an attack of our own despite the risks involved?

I don’t have to tell you what my friend would do. Time and again, she’s proven to these neighbors and others her kindness and her desire to live in community with them. As a single mom, life has sometimes been an uphill struggle. We share some common ground, and I know how hard these years can be. How challenging life can live while going it alone and being expected to do it all … to be it all, for everyone.

It’s a confusing mess, most days. A tireless reach into the deep storehouses of emotional, physical, and spiritual reserves in order to keep the wheels turning, the bills paid, and the lunches packed. There are countless hours of fretting over children, worrying over plumbing, and hoping beyond hope that the tires will last another thousand miles before needing replacements. The days start early and end late, and the doors stay locked … carefully guarded for fear of an unseen enemy who lurks just beyond the safety of a latch.

As single moms (and speaking as one who used to be one) we rarely score brownie points with society, church included. In fact, we mostly score their pity, or worse yet, their rejection. After all, we’re half of what we used to be. We blew it. We screwed it up and didn’t stay where we were supposed to stay. Never mind the other half who did his part in breaking the commitment. No, as single moms we carry it all, and it’s not fair; most days it hurts like crazy and calls for a strength beyond our capabilities.

Some days, like today, it calls for even more. A strength beyond that strength, and I am telling you I witnessed that strength tonight in my friend; I was moved to a place of awe and worship in my own spirit for the gift of God’s abiding presence and comfort despite man’s neglect along those lines. Tonight, my friend rocked on her porch while nursing the pains of her wounds that stretched from head to toe and back again. She’s got a rough road ahead of her, but she’s got an awesome God to carry her.

I don’t think she fully knows just how strong he can be, but I do, and he is already ministering to her in ways she never expected. Her faith is growing; she can’t see it now, but she’ll see it soon. And when she does, she’ll be in awe of the way she was able to endure her suffering and to emerge on the other side of it with a measure of grace and dignity that leaves, even her calloused neighbors, stunned and shamed with regret.

No one else may be handing her a prize tonight, but I, for one, think she deserves more than she’s been given. Her story is worthy of a headline (not the one printed in the local paper this past Tuesday morning). No, her story is worthy of far greater … a living memorial written by the very hand of her loving Savior. He’s writing it now, and one day soon, she’ll be the recipient of his commendation, and all of this mess that now serves as her life will make sense and will read as a masterpiece worthy of the throne room of heaven.

I love you friend. I love you single moms. You hang in there, and most importantly, you hold tightly to our Jesus. He loves you and has an extraordinary plan for your tomorrows. And should you ever need more than a shout, I’ve got my shovel ready and sitting on go. Together, with our God, we’ll fight the enemy, and we will win. It’s his promise to us. It’s my promise to you.

You are my noble hero this night, and your strength has called my heart to worship and to praise. Sleep well, brave friend, knowing that tomorrow awaits your courage. God created the morning for warriors like you. Go forth in the power that is yours because of your rightful inheritance as a daughter of the Most High God. Stand strong; remain vigilant, and fix your eyes on the horizon up ahead. Your salvation is closer now than he has ever been. As always…

peace for the journey,

~elaine

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