spiritual osteopathy

{Tomorrow being Thanks-Giving Day, but us being overseas, I'm feeling a bit disconnected... which reminds me that every day is a day for giving thanks... and today I'm thankful for my loose, free shoulders and spirit!}

“Come through!” she says in a cheerful voice, bent over her computer between clients.  I put my bag down, slip off my shoes, take out my earrings, and lay down on her table, surrendered.  Trusting.  

Her hands are so gentle.  She slides them underneath my back, in between my shoulder blades, right where the ache has grown and lodged over six weeks of nursing my brand-new daughter.  Six weeks of cradling her ever-increasing plumpness, of bending my neck for hours every day, gazing down at my girl as she drinks, not wanting to miss a minute of her sweetness.  

The osteopath shifts her fingers slightly, increases pressure in one spot, releases it in another.  She moves my ribcage around, shakes me gently, wiggles me back and forth, looking for tense spots.  

While she works, we chat about having three children, about her youngest being a bare three months old, about going back to work full time and still continuing to breastfeed.  I marvel at her dedication, at her love for what she does and her love for who she leaves at home.  

She moves to my head, grasps it in both hands, taking its weight.  She changes the position of her fingers ever so gradually, shifting my head on my neck.  I breathe deep.  

The conversation, the touch, the easing of pain all combine to leave me feeling free.  

Refreshed.  

Refocused.  

My back doesn’t hurt anymore.  I leave smiling.  

The next morning, we drive down the road to a group of women who meet every Thursday to pray.  

“Come in!”  The hostess greets us at the door with a warm hug, and we step into a room full of smiles.  Each woman embraces us in turn, and my touch-loving soul drinks up their love.  I sit down on the couch, feeling safe and loved.  Surrendered.  Trusting.    

The hostess turns on worship music.  The room is bathed in peace.  Ruby sleeps peacefully in her carseat, and I sit with my hands open in front of me, and give myself up to the Holy Spirit’s presence.  

As we worship, I can feel the Holy Spirit’s hands on my heart.  Gentle hands.  He finds the tense spots, releases pressure.  Wiggles my heart around, jogs my memory gently to remind me of things I need to repent of.  Thoughts float to the surface one by one.  

I can feel Him realigning my soul.  

By the end of four or five songs, my spirit feels like my neck and shoulders: loose, and free.  

Spiritual osteopathy.  

sojourning with children...

{Caveat to this anecdote: My children do have enough clothes - maybe not as many daily options as other kids from their passport countries, but if we're trucking their stuff all around the world, I figure we only really need about 3 of everything... makes for frequent laundry but light suitcases!}


Yesterday I was asking Will about his recent switch to morning preschool instead of afternoons.

I asked him, "So, are the kids the same in the mornings?"

He replied, "Yes they're the same - they just wear different clothes!"

I laughed. so. hard.


(For those who might be unfamiliar, here's the definition of a TCK, or Third Culture Kid...)

"merge like a zip"

I feel like I'm about to have my second baby in the same space of time.  I said yes to God to make this album a couple months after we found out we were pregnant with Ruby.  The whole album was recorded during the last month of my pregnancy, and now we're racing toward completion, and Ruby will be one month old tomorrow... it's a weird feeling.

Most of my friends and family, while they're proud of me, are probably secretly thinking I'm insane for trying to do this.  And sometimes, while I'm frantically dashing off emails over Ruby's head while she's feeding (like right now), I do feel a little manic.  But I've just kept thinking to myself, over and over, my favorite New Zealand highway sign, "Merge like a zip":

(The New Zealand road rule for blending two or more lanes into one: 

a zip is a zipper, for you Americans out there)

And it does seem to help!

Each day is flowing together in a different pattern, but somehow the baby's schedule, boys' schedules, CD details, James' studies, dishes, laundry, sleeping, friends, emails... somehow they're all merging (blurring!)  together, and what doesn't get done today gets saved for tomorrow, and I am learning to release and receive, release and receive.  Release my own agenda, and receive God's.  Release my nap, and receive Ruby, whimpering in my arms, as a gift.  Release control, and receive... peace.  I have my freak-out moments, every several days, but they're like red pimply blips along the path and then things settle back down to the whir and rhythm of "merge like a zip, merge like a zip"... 

And we are just a few days away from final mixing, final editing, and then mastering... and the CD cover graphics came through yesterday and look beautiful... and we are gathering quotes for duplicating  this dream gift from God to me, through me, so that it can be broken bread and poured out wine, passed out to God's people for the nourishment of their souls... and in the breaking and pouring, I am somehow nourished too.

Would you pray with me, as I rock and shush and swaddle and sing and croon, for the completion of this collection of songs, that it would be shining and shimmering grace?  That all the details would slip into place, that the final product would be exactly how I dreamed it would be, that it would be a blessing?