nokomis: cold glass of fresh water friend

my cold glass of fresh water friend Brielle is here!
She is sleeping, shhhh! All the way from a distant land of Eugene, Oregon.

She reminds me of Proverbs 25:25
'Like cold water to a weary soul is good news from a distant land'


Poncho came home from Nicaragua!
Diana will come from Pennsylvania/Uganda
Lindsey will come from Florida

What a reunion...refreshing water to a weary soul.

unsettled and reassigned

So, I sit here with my legs up on top of the computer tower, the blood is stagnant because my body is at a 90 sure 90 degree angle, my ankles are turning blue, but when I am focused on something, I forget how uncomfortable I am. Here goes Erika again, but I am so always learning things from stupid situations like this one. As I sit here, I know that my body is in pain, but I am either too lazy or too intense to do anything about it. What is that, just wierd. I am in an uncomfortable position in my heart too. But even though I know what to do about it, I still just sit here with slow blood and numb feet. Its like just because I know what to do, doesnt mean I will do it. That is an overstatement. I have been trying and trying and failing and failing to do what my heart really wants. Ever since I came home I ahve been so ready to just worship God and to jump into a new ministry and a renewed purpose, but I find myself engaging in rediculous things. I watched the WB for like 6 hours one day. I hate tv...or at least I thought I did. And especially the WB.
Many times my release is the discipline I have to get up in the morning. SOmething I took away from my DTS experience. I get up flippin' early and sometimes have no excuse and then just sit around waiting for the rest of the world to do something. That is the time that I am the most uncomfortable, because that is when God is speaking to me the most. In the quiet....where I can hear the noise of my heart and its like having a serious conversation at a noisy jazz bar. You know, the scrunched face and the shaking head, "I'm sorry I cant hear you, what did you say?" "God, can you repeat it...its hard to make out the words..." that is of course as I choose not to leave the jazz bar. I know my problem, I know the solution...I just guess I like having numb feet and slow blood.
What a great picture. I need to write more on this. The numb feet thing...has so many conotations and possibilities to talk about not doing the work of God...not going, not staying, not understanding...my mind is just going wild. And the slow blood thing is a bit of connecting the blood of Jesus to my hardened heart. The redemption blood and my lazy flesh. Yuck. Great picture, horrible reality.
So, i just put my feet on the floor. I really feel better already. Now, let me go do something--dance!

string dance

erika . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . bergen, norway

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her smile lit the room, fear fled

running for the valleys

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she closed her eyes

pulled and stroked the strings

dancing fingers up the wooden board

chasing His glory

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her breath was light

it was bright to hear the

sweet honey voice off her lips

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she stepped and swayed

giving room for the spirit

to swing dance her soul around

the room of her heart

waltzing in paths beyond tracing out

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she stepped and swayed

smiling, closed her eyes

and took a breath

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He thanked her for the dance

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elh mar2006

to climb rocks

erika . . . .hardangerfjord, norway

i wait for a break
through thickness
i know it comes slow
that's what you want
meanwhile

i must climb rocks
let many tell me of thier love for you
tuck me in, tickle my feet
sing songs of joy and sorrow
do handstands
weep

I must let you kiss my heavy
cold heart
melt me
humility of unrest
let our eyes meet
and smile

change
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elh apr2006

Crown of Creation

Crown of Creation . . . . . .

Erika Hydeen . . . . . . .

Acrylic on canvas . . . . . . .

Feb 2006 . . . . . . .

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Collection of Jon Magnus Etnan . . . . . . .

Oslo, Norway . . . . . . .

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Artist Notes

I will declare the Lord of creation and we are his crown, his passion. He gives us that passion. Man and woman were made in his image and to be joined together to complete the task of God's kingdom to come.

In this painting, the figure in the right bottom portion is a dual portrait of a man and a woman. They are sharing the image and the complete form of who God is an will be. We are all given different gifts and use them to an acceptable potential, but we must not believe that we were not 'saved to something'. The male (the right half of the image) is given the passion and the dreams from the mouth of the Lord (represented by the fire and the close arm toward the sky and the intimate communication with God). The woman (represented by the left half of the image) has a cooler tone and also has reaching out arms or branches which in this case represents how a woman is in a community and a family. As the man receives from the Lord and as a match for the woman, she is able to communicate that to the world with her outreaching arms of love and embrace.

She is a tree. He is a fire.

The tree has biblical representation as well as character relating to God. The color of the passion (the fire) extends from God to the male, then through the woman--to the people (seen on the far left side of the painting--the long verticals reaching down). These are people that are unsaved, or just others who have been searching, or are trying to ignite a dwindled passion. We are to love our neighbors as ourselves and encourage them. We are to extend the passion we have from God through the help of those with spiritual giftings and reach the suffering. We must extend our branches of passion, for He deserves it all.

This is a painting about creation.

We are the crown of that creation.

photo jounal to come

with thanks to my dearest Winnipeg-ian Janelle I have been thrust into a new level of blogging. Soon, my photos from this year will be available on my secondary blog www.thatopenwindow.blogspot.com

Meet my pal Janelle (& that's me)

from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada

YWAM Skien's 2006 DTS Staff

Open face sandwiches

YWAM DTS Class of 2006 Skien, Norway

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eirik & erika: you stole my name brother!

the rumor is: Indian men are reserved, I disagree.

ferrying the beautiful hardangerfjord

erika & daniel: a worshiping duo

Youth work in Norsjo, confirmant weekend retreat

The day that I turned 23, I began anew and learned to ski

just take a good look

i babysat some kids today. My mom went to Wisconsin because her 'like-a-mother' died, so I had the kids. I sat by the kitchen table with a child on my knee and my journal in the other hand. as I wrote I questioned to God, "what would it be like to serve you when I have a child on one knee and three others chasing their shadows throughout the house. I just took a good look at who I am now and wondered how much more change I will go through to even be prepared for such a lifestyle. I liked being the 'mom' I thought I was fun. We did normal things and I spoke in a normal way....not overly excited about the day, because I knew I could never keep that enthusiasm the rest of the summer if I started now. But a certain event sparked my conciousness...just read as it unfolds before you.

Yesterday, Colby..the little 6 year old said,
"Erika, dont you think we should make a list of what we are going to do tomorrow, and then when we do it we can cross it off?"
My slightly lazy, and intrigued comeback was,
"No, let's just let tomorrow be tomorrow....and there might be some suprises."
She was pacified with that for a while, then once again came to me and said,
"Maybe we could make that list now Erika!?
I again told her no and she went away-physically, but not in her heart. It was empty of something.

I got to thinking, what would it be like to have her ask me that question all day long. So exhausting. Perhaps if she would bring me a snack, rub my back, or pick up her toys I would consider something different.

What am I saying? This looks a lot like something I have been doing lately between me and God.

"God, you haven't told me what I am doing next year and what the next step is...don't you think you should sit down with me and make a list?
Since I have been home in Orange City, I have been waiting for words from God....Confirmations and signals of the next place he wants me...and I have hardly received anything. I am like a 6 year old child who knows that the fun is just around the corner, but is dying to put it in a box...just to look, sit there...listed.

But, God...when tomorrow comes, we need to know what we are doing--and dont you want to hear my ideas?

If I a correct, NO...God doesnt need our suggestions in his great plan for the world. I just want to stand out enough that when his searching eye comes through the fields looking for those genuine workers, that his gaze would fall upon me. I am still like a child, its just we never hear God's frustration like the babysitters'....and there is something about that difference that makes God, God.



stop living by lists
by boxes
by barriers of bondage

just take a good look
it's all there
tomorrow's suprises

ice cream cones

walking with God
is like eating an ice cream cone
it gets really messy
especially on your hands
when the summer is hot
thick with humid air
hanging on your lips like
a spoon to your nose
in fancy restaurants
or big family gathering
mom gives a look,
you smile
squirming

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drips of melted sweet
remind you
this difficulty
licking the cold fallen taste

leaves more stick to the stain
stretching across soft

flesh skinned finger
tongue covered in the mess
hand in the mess
the mess still on a stick
mess in the other hand
like a mocking friend
of love and hate
one hand deals
while
the other heals
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my mouth reaches
thirsting for that
everlasting taste
I bite, unprepared
for falling edges
as the world
slowly falls apart
when no one is looking
when left unattended

I realize my dismay
my fighting
hurting
I am revealed
I am relieved
soon my sticky tongue
layered thick with mercy
stretches down
slurping corners
between the cracks
fingers, webbed skin
wrinkled and perfect

a remembrance

the humid air
a vexon to my task
the ice cream tastes,
it is good

God is too

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elh june2006

Whistling on my bike

Oh, I was reminded of how my life was today. It is like a song, so beautiful and rich. Its like the song I sing when I ride my bike. I ride and sing--as if no one can hear. When I was in high school I used to write in people's yearbooks

"dance like nobody is watching, love like no one will ever notice, and sing like no on has ears to hear."

I think I was smarter back then, I believed simple truths of freedom that are hard to swallow now. I still recognize that freedom now, but it is different.

I ride my bike and pray before I go to waitress at the Nederlander Grille. Serving up french fries and encouragements. I sing on my bike too. When someone walks by I try to cover my song...and whistle. That is dumb. I am learning to sing and be free as the words flow from my tongue off my lips.

Today I cried in church. My dad played the song he wrote for me to be played and sung at my wedding...that will no longer happen. I cried not because of the non-wedding, but because I love my dad so much and he wrote me an amazing song. I leaned foward so people would be forced to feel sorry for me. The way they do when you see someone cry. Like there is anything you can do for them. I just want to cry. So I did. Unashamed. They were fresh tears, not the weeping kind that clog your nose and your face with red and snot..but fresh like a rain that fall straight down. They don't slither down your face like lingering snakes, but just drip. It tickles the lip and hangs off the edge of your nose like a silver spoon at a fancy restaurant.

Someday he will play and sing that song for me and my husband, whoever and wherever he is. But today June 18, 2006 I was married. Reunited with Christ. Pure, fresh, unashamed and beautiful.

So life is like a song. Sing. Unashamed

"Much love and thanks for listening to me sing," (Don Miller, Blue Like Jazz)

A new window to look out

When I came home from Norway just about a month ago my mom and dad had a surprise. They gave my bedroom a face lift. Mom was on her belly painting with a toothpick practically. From the way it sounded, she was sleeping and eating this room for weeks. All is appreciated, so appreciated. Its been a hard year in Norway and to come home to something new and fresh, just as new and fresh as myself. Something brand new will happen here in Orange City...who knows it could be a citywide sleep over. Bring your jammies! If you are in OC...feel free to come over and view the glorious masterpiece set before me. Thanks mom and dad!

The Golden Palace

sweet.

Streets of Cape Town

So I spent the last year in Norway taking a DTS at the YWAM base in Skien Norway. For 2 months of those 9 I spent in South Africa. There have been many wonderful experiences, and slowly I will share more.

But, there is one story that cannot go untold. It is the time when I was robbed with two Norsk friends (Annis and Daniel) in downtown Cape Town just weeks before we left for home.

These two hoodlums came up to us...took some money and Annis' camera without my real understanding of what was happening. Upon not reaizing there was a knife involved I was bold enough to bargain with the robber..who was a part of a street gang (ahem, nice move) and when he asked me for my ring on my finger I actually denied him. He was confused and just stumbled away. I think it was a successful robbery. I wonder if that guy ever considered someone telling him no. No Norwegians were hurt during this non-simmulation robbery--and no musical instruments were offered up as sacrafices for our lives. But, the experience was so amazing to us, that we were inspired to write a parady about it. If you know the song "Fields of Gold" by Eva Cassidy, just pop that in and sing these next words to its pursuading melody. And if you get to Cape Town in the next years of your life...dont look like a tourist. You are best if you dress and act like a street kid.

Streets of Cape Town
They'll remember us when the day is done
Along the streets of Cape Town
You can tell the cops they dont even care
As we walk away with crime
So I take some cash
Just to waste on drugs
Along the streets of Cape Town
In my coat I hide all the things I find
As I walk away with crime

Just give me your phone, you just give it now
Along the streets of Cape Town
You can tell the cops they dont even care
As we walk away with crime

I never make promises at all
And there have been windows I've broken
But I swear in this street gang life
I will walk away with crime
I will walk away with crime

(music interlude)

Many days have passed since that robbing day
Along the streets of Cape Town
See the street kids watch as the deal goes down
As we walk away with crime
They remembered us when the day was done
Along the streets of Cape Town
You can tell the cops they dont even care
As we walk away with crime
As we walk away with crime
As we walk away with crime
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elh may2006

restless

restless

i wait for you
to be born
from the warmed womb
of my heart

making complete a good work,
from faith
grace that's enough
at least
forever

for you

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elh dec. 2005