Author Archives: Lydia Floren

10,000 Words – Paris

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Andrew and I celebrated our 30th with a trip to Paris.

Sacre Couer, as seen from Musee D’Orsay

Eiffel at night, shadowed by a cross

Hall of Mirrors, Versailles

Notre Dame

From the top of Notre Dame

Swans at Versailles gardens

King’s Gardens, Versailles, at dusk

Bridges at night

Our lock of love

All photos by Lydia Floren

Stepping Back

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Stepping Back by Lydia Floren

There always seems to be a lot going on in my life. Yours too, probably. Until recently I was working on a book project (Beloved Adventure), blogging, practicing medicine, helping to lead a small group, and preparing for a major house renovation. But a few months ago, I felt God leading me to put a few of these projects on hold and take some time for deep healing from some things in my past.

This is not on my five-year plan. Anywhere.

Yes, I have a past. We all do. I’ve dealt with it, prayed over it, experienced healing from it. I really don’t want to go there again. Ever. “Besides,” I grumbled to God, “I’m too old for this.”

But God kept tapping me on my shoulder saying “You need to go here. It is important. It is your next step forward, for growth and healing. There are things that linger there, that now you have the strength and understanding to deal with. Things that still affect you, that cause you to be anxious, to over react in certain situations, to distrust. I want to perform a deeper healing, to give you a new perspective, to bless you with increased joy and freedom.”

It took a few such “conversations,” before I acquiesced. I reluctantly set aside (for the third time) the kitchen/bathroom project, the work on Beloved Adventure and a few other things. And I began cautiously following My Loving Father in a different direction.

It takes a lot more courage and energy for me to step back than it does to step forward. It’s scary. There is rejection and hurt and mistakes and regret back there. It is a place I only dare go with my Loving Father at my side. And He has stayed close, protecting, providing, encouraging. He led me to counselor that I trust, and a couple of friends I can decompress with. He has given me a husband who understands and friends who are praying.

So far, It’s been messy and revealing. And yes, freeing and healing. But it has not been easy.

We can always know that God’s way will be one of healing and growth, freedom and joy. But what’s hard to grasp is that, on occasion, His way may also take us in an unexpected direction, a retrospective—even painful—one. But He knows that difficult past experiences can seep through and stain our current perspective, despite many coats of paint-years layered on top. So, there are times God may (and probably will) ask us to dig deep. Unearth unpleasant memories. Allow Him to reprocess them in the light of His love.

Are you willing, no matter what your age or stage in life, for God to lead you to take a step back? To set aside some projects, so that you have the time and energy to follow Him there? Are you ready to trust Him to create a new frame of reference, one untainted by past hurts? Even if the healing process will be painful at times?

If/when you are, I think you will find that stepping back can be remarkably freeing. As God heals damaged emotions from the past, He enables us to claim more fully His loving embrace in the present.

You might find, as I have, that sometimes the best way–maybe even the only way—to move forward is by stepping back.

“Those who wait for the lord will gain new strength…” Isaiah 40:31

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my anxious thoughts; and see if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way.” Psalm 139:23-34

Getting Away

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Getting Away

by Lydia Floren

I remember first getting away by myself when I was a resident in Jacksonville, Florida. Medical training was pretty intense, and I found myself needing a true break. So, periodically, I would pack an overnight bag, and head to the nearby beach, where I’d rent a cheap mom-and-pop type hotel room for a night or two. Other than the usual essentials, I would take only my Bible and my journal. I’d sleep for long stretches, take walks by the ocean, praying to the sound of crashing waves. It was truly restorative.

A few years later, when I was married and mostly staying at home with little ones, I’d occasionally talk my husband into childcare duty and check into a nearby B and B. I was amazed at how different a night or two would make me feel—refreshed, renewed, settled. Resting and reconnecting with God (and myself) did that for me. My husband noticed the difference too, and started to encourage me to take some personal time, on occasion. In fact, just a couple of weeks ago he pulled me aside and asked “Hon, do you need to get away for a couple of days?”

The location and timespan of these little solo retreats has varied over the years, but some things have remained pretty constant. Rest. Solitude. Silence (including all electronics). Prayer (both talking and listening). Bible reading. Journaling.

Until recently, I’d never met anyone else who did this sort of thing. Well, Jesus did it. And while writers such as Henri Nouwen and Brennan Manning have mentioned their own such experiences in passing, I had never seen, much less read, a whole book dedicated to this topic.

Until now. My dear (and fairly new ☺) friend Tish just published a wonderful book about taking a personal retreat called Getaway with God. I met Tish at a writer’s conference (Write to Publish) a couple of years ago. I liked her immediately. Tish is a gentle, Godly woman, and her book reflects her heart. It also provides some great resources and insights into planning your own personal retreat.

Getting away with God–the Person who knows you best and loves you most. Doesn’t that sound amazing? Especially this time of year? Maybe it’s time to give yourself a gift. Mark your calendar and make your own plans for some personal rest and renewal. (And maybe pick up a copy of Getaway With God while you are at it.)

Best. Christmas present. Ever.

PS. For the chance for a free signed copy of Tish’s book, just respond to this post on the blog Belovedlove.org/reflections, message or post on our Facebook page @ Belovedlove, or on Twitter @bebelovedlove!

p.s. I took the above picture at my friend’s Northwoods cabin. The one below is from another friend’s low-country retreat in South Carolina.

Shoes At My Door

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by Lydia Floren

When we first moved to Wisconsin, I was surprised to find that, when people came to visit, they always left their shoes at my door. I soon learned that Wisconsinites shed their shoes, just like they do their coats, when they enter someone’s home. Children learn to do this almost before they begin to walk. In fact, around here, taking your shoes off when you cross a threshold ranks right up there with the “yes ma’am’s” and “no ma’am’s” of the South: good when you do it, really rude when you don’t.

At first this shoe-at-the-door thing didn’t make much sense. But that was because we moved up here in July. By December, the reason became obvious: snow. Well, not just snow – the sand and slush and salt and mud that accompany the winter months. Taking shoes off keeps everyone’s houses from being dirtied by the outside mess. This is such an ingrained habit in our Northwoods culture that, even when the weather is nice and the streets are clear, everyone still sheds their footwear when they come inside.

We each have some mud on our lives, especially this time of year.

Extra commitments, financial concerns, worry about family, renewed grief, loneliness. Some of the stuff is obvious while other parts – like the stirrings of old hurts – stay hidden beneath the surface.

As we step into each other’s lives, wouldn’t it be cool if we would remember to first take off our “muddy shoes”? That might mean setting aside happenings from earlier in the day: a difficult circumstance, or unpleasant encounter, or hurry or stress. Maybe it means withholding judgment, extending grace, forgiving, getting out of our own perspective and choosing to enter theirs.

This holiday season we are going to have many distractions.

And we are going to step into a lot of lives.

May we remember to set aside our stress and tread gently, giving others (and ourselves) extra grace.

BTW, wouldn’t it be wonderful if this “extra grace-giving” became a habit we practiced all year long?

But you, Lord, are a compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Psalm 86:15

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

Love is patient, love is kind. 1 Corinthians 13:4

A Summer’s Rain by Lydia Floren

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[Note: I wrote this in the summer (obviously). It is the intro to a book I am writing called “Beloved Adventure.” Hope you like it…]

It is raining outside. I am safe and dry, in our tree-house-like back porch, and it is raining. The water taps against the leaves, gurgles from the downspout. The moist breeze brushes coolness on my face, and tickles my nose. It rains, and I remember.

My first panic attack happened the day before I started my residency. I had struggled the first 2 years of med school, wrestling with a massive amount of material, never feeling like I mastered it very well. It finally started to make sense my last two years, and on the eve of beginning my residency, I was ready for a fresh start. I desperately wanted to make a good impression with my new colleagues.

On that eve before my first day as a “real doctor,” I was alone, sitting on the hand-me-down couch of my new apartment. It had started to rain, gently at first, and then with massive sheets pounding the pavement. I was fretting. Despite my prayers, my anxious thoughts multiplied. My skin broke out in a cold sweat. My heart raced. The room seemed to close in. I felt like I was suffocating.

In my panic, I jumped up, threw open the front door, and flung myself out into the storm. And stopped. I just stood there for I don’t know how long, soaked to the skin, water dripping down my face and limbs and puddling in my shoes. At some point I remember raising my hands to the sky and declaring “God, if You can do this – if You can make rain appear from the sky and water the earth – you can take care of me in this residency.”

As I stood there with my hands raised, God responded. He didn’t speak audibly, unless you count the drumbeat of the rain. Yet, He answered me clearly, as He settled His peace deep into my spirit, and gently washed my fears away.

Today, many years later, I am safe and dry on my back porch. And I am enjoying the sights and sounds of a summer shower watering the lush Wisconsin greenery. At moments like this, when I am quiet enough to notice the rain, I smile to myself. On that night long ago God met me at my point of need, and He has done so many times since. Each time I reach out to Him He meets me, and answers by raining His love and mercy down on me.

In Psalm 37:25, David said “Once I was young, and now I am old. Yet, I have never seen the Godly abandoned or their children begging for bread.” NLT

Like David, I’m older now. I have practiced medicine, married, raised a family. I’ve pulled up roots and put down new ones. I have experienced joy and pain – and yes, a few more panic attacks.

God has never left me. He has filled in the cracks of all my imperfections with His unfailing love. And I know from years of experience, that each time I step into His presence, God gently washes my fears away.

Gently

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by Lydia Floren

I’ve been avoiding God again. Well, to be honest, I’ve mostly been avoiding myself – what I might find when I slow down and get still enough to pay attention. Frankly, I don’t want to see the failure. The raw need. The fear. I skirt the edges of these feelings, afraid that, if I face them head on, I will get lost in depression and discouragement.

So, I stay busy. And keep God at arm’s length. But this is not a good long term plan. God is with me, within me, gently calling my name, ready to hear my concerns. I can’t ignore Him. And I miss Him.

So here I am, in the middle of the night, jolted awake by a bad dream. I reach for His comforting presence, before I remember not to. His kindness is startling. Gently He soothes. Embraces. Lifts away my burdens. Gently, He heals past wounds, still raw, gives insight into my pain, and offers perspective – on present events, and past ones.

Gently, He shares truth where I see lies. Gently, He reminds me that He is 100% good, and that I am 100% safe: nothing and no one can touch my identity, value, belonging and calling.

God meets me where I am. And ever so gently, ever so faithfully, He leads me out of my mess, and back into His joy.

Choosing Joy

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I am spending a few glorious (and warm) days at the beach visiting a dear friend. On the drive from the airport my friend told me about the island’s beach renovation project. The Corps of Engineers situated a big ship offshore a couple of miles north of us to suck sand from the ocean floor. They then push it through a pipe they progressively lay down close to the water. The Fresh sand is sifted and then deposited along the eroded shore, and then big trucks even it out. It is quite a production.

Unfortunately the crew set up shop right in front her place 3 days before my arrival. When they moved down the beach after a couple of days, they left a big pipe stretched across the sand in front of us, and– for a while– a plastic orange fence that kept us from approaching the ocean.

I had a decision to make.

This week I will choose:

Will I focus on the rusty pipe,

or the panorama of ocean and sky?

On the orange fence, or a shore free of beach walkers?

On an occasional beeping truck, or gull cries and crashing waves?

All through our lives we make decisions.

We choose.

To enjoy life’s beauty, or to be annoyed by its problems.

To appreciate what we have, or to wish for what we don’t.

To be content, or to be restless.

In our walk with God on this earth we choose

To trust, or to worry.

To be thankful, or to be dissatisfied.

To embrace joy, or to wallow in self-pity.

Thank you God, for

Your presence within and around me.

The magnificence creation before me.

The beauty of me – your ultimate design.

You – Your personality, intellect, creativity, compassion.

The incredible power you possess and restraint that you practice.

Thank you God,

For renovating my heart, just like this beach – restoring fresh sand, minus the debris.

For Your incomprehensible love, vast as the sea.

Thank you, that you have made it possible for me to choose You,

For me to choose Joy.

I Shall Not Want

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I Shall Not Want

by Lydia Floren

The Lord

Is my Shepherd,

I shall not want.

Next week…

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

[This picture courtesy of Frances Welch, taken in Colorado.]

Keep sharing your thoughts and photos! I will include them as we go. Thank you so much!

The Lord is my Shepherd

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the Lord is my shepherd I shall not want

The Lord is my Shepherd

by Lydia Floren

This week’s blog is the first in of a series of pictoral blogs on Psalm 23. Take a moment to think about this phrase this week. What does it mean for THE lord to be your shepherd? What pictures or scenes make you think of the phrase “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want”?

Snap a picture, or jot a few words down, and share it with the rest of us. It’s easy–simply post it on the Belovedlove Facebook page. (with photos, if you have time include a few words about your photo, such as why you chose it, or where you took it.)

Everyone’s eye is so different, and God speaks to each of us in special ways! Thank you for sharing part of your world with the rest of us!

Lydia

I thank God in all my remembrance of you!

An Invitation

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by Lydia Floren

Pictures are such a big part of our lives, aren’t they? In the last couple of years, I have enjoyed taking pictures, and then pairing them with a saying or verse. I call them “Sunrays” because they shine a little truth into my life. For example, this photo of a lava tunnel (basically, a big hole in a rock) I took in Maui, Hawaii, always speaks to me of how powerful God is. He really can make a way where there is no way.Over the next few weeks, I am planning to post pictures of various scenes (primarily in nature) illustrating phrases from Psalm 23. Would you be willing to help?

An Invitation: Share your photos of Psalm 23 with us!

Take some time to think about Psalm 23 (see below), maybe while spending time out in nature, and/or scrolling through old pictures.
Pick out one or more favorite photos that speak to you in some way about these wonderful words.
And then forward them to me via email, or simply post them on the Belovedlove Facebook page. (If you have time, include a few words about your photo, such as why you chose it, or where you took it.)

I look forward to hearing from you, and seeing a little of your world. And then passing that blessing along to many others.

Thank you! You are such a blessing to me!

Lydia Floren

“I thank God in all of my remembrance of you.”

Psalm 23

“The LORD is my shepherd,  I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;  He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;  He guides me in the paths of righteousness  for His name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,  I fear no evil, for You are with me;  Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You have anointed my head with oil;  my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and lovingkindness will follow me all the days of my life,  and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”