Thursday, November 20, 2008 
This Morning

This morning I read Luke 17. On his way to Jerusalem, knowing what his mission there would require of him, Jesus nonetheless stops when 10 lepers cry for mercy from a distance. Jesus instructs them to go show themselves to the priests. This took amazing faith on their parts... the law of the land (not only Old Testament law) said they were to stay at a distance from uninfected people and to go about shouting "unclean, unclean." They did so to protect others from accidentally coming close to them. Yet before they were healed they were told to head off in the direction of the priests in order to receive a proclamation of good health and of acceptability. Their faith was rewarded: on the way to the priests they were healed. Now for those of us who have been hanging around churches and the Bible for awhile we know that only one of the ten turned around and thanked Jesus. All ten had had faith, only one had had gratitude.

This morning however something new popped out at me. Jesus instructed them to go to the priests because that was what Leviticus 13 required. Old Testament law gave explicit instructions what to do if somehow leprosy was healed. Leviticus 13 however did not give a cure because there was no known cure and there was no provision in Old Testament law for how to get healed. There was no magic incantation, no formula, no prescription. For centuries the word of God stood with the hope of being healed, but no way to achieve it. I wonder, were there loved ones of lepers anguishing in quiet misery, feeling mocked by these instructions in the word of God and yet no apparent means to get to that point? Were there lepers feeling not only condemned to a life of loneliness and rejection, enormous physical and emotional pain, but also feeling that God was playing some great cosmic joke on them? I might have been one of them. I, from time to time, feel despair and impatience with God and His Word... promises seem to mock me.

But this morning I see what I have really known all along: where God guides, God provides. Centuries before Nahum the Syrian (2 Kings 5) was told to dip seven times in the River Jordan, before Jesus had mercy on lepers (Matt 8, Mark 14, Luke 17), before medical science discovered antibiotics and a reliable cure for leprosy... centuries before all this... God, in mercy, had outlined a way back into society for those who had been living in shame and a command that those previously outcast were to be fully restored.

This morning I understand that long before I felt condemned by my own failings God intended for me to walk blameless and clean in His sight. But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us and to cleanse us from every wrong. 1 john 1:9. Long before I felt shame and before I yearned for freedom from shame, God made provisions for me to walk without shame. What God has cleansed, do not call common. Acts 10:15. The prescriptive of Leviticus 13 tell me that God intends for his people to live free.

This morning I know that if God spoke a promise in my ear, and even if I see no way to that fulfillment, He is even now leveling the path.

Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Ways of Prayer

It has been nearly a year since I last wrote here... I was surprised to see that...

"Don't fear, Zachariah. Your prayer has been heard. Elizabeth, your wife, will bear a son by you." luke  1:13

Zechariah was in the temple . He had waited his whole life for this moment. He was to offer prayers on behalf of the people and nation of Israel.  Zechariah was one of Aaron's descendants and he could offer incense at the daily temple sacrifice once in his lifetime and his time had come. His intercession would have assuredly included a prayer for the long awaited and promised messiah. Beth Moore writes, "he was a real man who sought to serve a real God even in the midst of unanswered prayers, mystifying disappointments, personal weakness, mundane daily rituals and anxiety causing responsibilities."

The Bible tells us, he was told, "Don't be afraid Zechariah your prayer has been heard." God promised Zechariah and Elizabeth a son. Beth Moore draws a connection between the corporate prayer for Israel's Messiah and Zechariah's personal prayer for a son. She  writes that probably Zechariah didn't realize how interconnected these two prayers would be. Beth Moore asks me what long standing prayer have I continued to to take to God's throne... as I answered the Holy Spirit brought to mind a long ago prayer... for Jenni to be healed. Remember I was a young woman, new to the faith, wandering around theologically, trying to come to grips with shattered dreams and despair.... and I prayed for Down syndrome to be taken away, for Jenni to be healed. Over the years God has certainly compassionately given me many reasons to be grateful for Jenni's life and the prayer was tucked away. Yet here this morning it comes out again. And odd as it may sound God never said no to that prayer... it just has not happened.

I prayed anew for Jenni today... I thanked God that she loved Him. I thanked God that Jenni had the mind of Christ. And that she would in eternity reside in his presence and that God would grant me my request and she would be with glorified body and mind at that time. Then I asked God to reveal to us in the days and weeks to come new ways for Jenni to blossom.

Our testimonies do not reside in the past... God is always at work in our lives... so I challenge you, look back at your prayers, is there one that you forgot about? Pick it up... dust it off, ask God what he thinks about it. See where it takes you.

Tuesday, November 20,  2007
Kindness

Then Joseph said to them, "Don't be afraid. Can I do what only God can do? You meant to hurt me. But God turned your evil into good. It was to save the lives of many people. And it is being done. So don't be afraid. I will take care of you and your children." So Joseph comforted his brothers and spoke kind words to them." Genesis 50:19-21

The book, Watchman on the Walls, has been guiding and informing my prayer life for over a decade now. Twelve character traits desirable for all of us, with appropriate Scripture verses, to pray over and meditate on. The book was designed for parents to pray for their children. I have found often that the book shines a beacon on areas of my own life that could use some sprucing up.

The verse above is for the "kindness" section...and the prayer that follows springs from the prayer included in the book and where the Holy Spirit went with it.

Father, I pray that I may become more sensitive to Your control of the events and people in my life. Show me, like You showed Joseph, how to handle the negative thoughts I have towards others, especially those people who have caused me pain or offended me. These negative thoughts often come from fears I have that You are not in control. Your perfect and sovereign control tells me that I don't have to be afraid. Your sovereignty frees me to relax and to be gentle towards others. I know that You use all things for good, and that good will spring forth into my life when I trust You. You do all the work so I can afford to be kind towards others. And Father, I fail all too often to follow through on this, so remind to look to You.

I am reminded that controlling the thoughts I have towards others is a choice of mine, and that I can always ask God how He would have me think of a situation. Katherine often asks me, "what should I do when this person....?" And I always answer her carefully. God certainly does the same and He doesn't give wrong advice as I sometimes do. Kindness is treating others as you want to be treated. And that includes controlling the negative thoughts we have about others... not letting those thoughts  become a runaway train of anger and bitterness. That train always derails in ungodly actions.

Thursday, November 8,  2007
These Things We Know

Some snow thoughts on this morning after the first real snow of Winter 2007:

It has been trying to really snow for a week or so... a few flakes here and there, and the adrenaline gets going, I am so excited and then *pout* no real snow that lasts more than an hour, or even snow that is visible on the ground. I complain when it does not deliver. Instead I should rejoice, as it is the first harbinger of the glorious snow I am waiting for. I should see it as the sign that it is, snow is around the corner. How often do we grumble when things fall a bit short of our expectations, instead of recognizing that God is on the move? That He has sent us the early rain so we will not lose heart... He will deliver on His promises.

Early this week, there was a light flurry in the night. Katherine and I were hopefully discussing what it could mean: will this be the snow that makes it the first of the season? will there be snow when Melinda and Earl are here? (Katherine was actually having a hard time staying focused as she was overcome with Heroes thinkings.) She ran to the kitchen door leading to the deck and then back to my bedroom window. She said, "It's snowing out back, but not in the front yard."  We chuckled because of course if it is snowing in the backyard, it is snowing in the front yard. We know that as a fact, even though we don't see it visibly. And when we see the hand of God in one area of our life, we can be sure (because we know His character) that He is working in all areas of our lives.

Last night, watching the snow fall through the light of street lights, we wished to share it with Melinda. This is a special beauty Katherine and I have come to treasure and our hearts were longing to share it with someone who did not have it regularly.  Beauty makes the heart bigger.

Katherine wrote " we tend to appreciate the things we have to wait for." As she wrote that, she was thinking of some precious gifts in her life, and of snow. The fact that I can't command the snow, that it does not follow my bidding makes it more special.

There is a whisper of God speaking even in snow. His character radiates all about.

Wednesday, July 4,  2007
Not On My Watch

The world lost a good man this week. Heaven rejoices as he has come home into the presence of the Lord, but we here have sustained a terrible loss. Bill Smoke died unexpectedly, suddenly and, we believe, accidentally. Our family first came to know him at Calvary Homestead. Since then we have moved here to Canada and he and his wife moved to North Carolina. Melinda called with the news and she had heard from Lynn. Yesterday, many tears were shed as we recollected the numerous ways Bill blessed our lives.

At a leadership conference at Calvary Ft. Lauderdale during some lean times, without knowing us, only that we were friends of Diego's, Bill quietly picked up the tab for every meal... he came to Mary's aid numerous times after I had already arrived in Canada and her car was in its death throes, he mowed our lawn, he moved us into a home, he and his wife encouraged Jenni at work so many times, he befriended Jenni and bestowed respect and gratitude upon her,  Bill inquired after us, and he felt responsibility for us as his sisters in the Lord, He had a delightful sense of humor, some might think irreverent, but in all that he spoke the truth, he loved the Lord and he showed it...

He had no title in the church, no fancy position, yet he served tirelessly...

Later in the day, I pondered why my heart was so heavy... naturally I am sorrowful for his wife and son, and the loss they feel now and will come to feel in years future... I am sorry for my friends, the Claunch family because I know he was a drink of cool water for them many times, but my sorrow, where was it coming from... because as I wrote earlier they had moved and we had moved...  

In the movie, A Few Good Men, Kevin Pollak's character and Demi Moore's character go at each other in argument about her vigorous defense of two soldiers  and his disdain for them. She screams, "Why do you hate them so much?" and he counters equally emotional, "Why do you like them so much?"  She answers:

"Because they stand upon a wall and say, "Nothing's going to hurt you tonight, not on my watch."

And that was Bill, and that is why I weep, because the world has lost someone who stood watch on a wall. Because during a time when I felt like everyone and everything was gunning for me, Bill Smoke kept us safer with his kindness, with his steadfastness

Tony and I named our website 20 birds for the line in Kevin Prosch's song.. "I Need to Sing,"... these are the things I need to sing about... like 20 birds searching for God, and a good man who did what he was supposed to do...

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.


enlarge image
credits here

 

 

Monday, April 30,  2007
Working Hard So You Don't Have To

About a week ago,  a neighbor introduced himself.. an older gentleman across the street. He had seen Emily, Amanda and Hannah playing in the tree hanging over the fence to the street, and called  out, "I say, I didn't know we 'ad any monkeys in the neighbor 'ood." Did I mention that George has the most charming British accent which Emily does perfectly? Tony and I met him and he regaled us with tales of rainbow trout spawning in the river, and fishing, and returning Canadian Geese, and of beavers living and working in the river.

The next day, in re-telling the story , it seemd the right thing to do, to go off in search of the beaver. We began with much expectation. We believed we would see either a beaver or a beaver dam. We saw neither, but we saw evidence of a beaver. We saw chewed up tree stumps, and trees  wrapped about the lower third of the trunk with chicken wire. We saw a patch of flattened grass like a flume from the bank leading down to the water. At the end of the walk, we had seen no beaver, but we did not doubt that beavers lived in that river. And along the way, I learned a lesson or two about faith and the Lord.

We began our walk confident that beavers existed. The question of faith was "did a beaver exist in our part of the river?"  Now George seemed  fairly reliable for us. He appeared trustworthy on this issue, not the sort who would imagine beavers, or make up tall tales, and he spoke with convincing detail about the life of the river, so much so we believed he was a student of the river.

We did not see a beaver this day. But we concluded the walk convinced beavers did indeed inhabit out part of the river. The reasons were: as I wrote above, George said there were and he seemed to be a solid witness, we saw tree trunks with beaver activity evident, we saw a swath of flattened grass that appeared as if a beaver had taken logs down to the river, and we saw that the city or someone protected various trees from damage to the lower third of their trunks.

In talking about this the next day, Tony pointed out that we drive by this stretch of the river daily. We never knew there was a beaver in the water, let alone that there were chewed up trees along the banks. These beavers are hard at work daily... and we don't notice because we don't look closely.

Now every day, we believe all sorts of things told us by people, television, books, etc (not always as reliable as our neighbor, George) with far less substantiating evidence. Again the question was not so much did beavers exist, but are they active in our world, our neck of the woods?... we knew a little bit what to look for as evidence... and that helped. Maybe we should familiarize ourselves with what the Lord's work looks like, so we can recognize the evidence of Him in our lives.

And like the beavers at work across the street, I believe that we miss so much of God hard at work in our lives, because we simply are not paying attention. The tail- end (pun intended) of the story is that, a week later, Tony and I were delightfully surprised to see a beaver in the water, but even before that... without seeing the beaver, I had so much joy from seeing the tree stump and other evidence.

Check out the photos here, and determine to stay closer to the river, bend down, walk right alongside the bank, and see the Lord at work in your life... you will be so blessed.

Thursday, April 19,  2007
 I will Not Fail You

Nothing original in this little thought,  snagged from the Beth Moore Bible study that I am apart of at church. Beth was speaking of a struggle she was having, and God's desire to stretch her courage in a particular area. In the midst of the struggle, she cries out, "I don't want to fail you, God." A few days later, at a Bible study that Kay Arthur was leading, teaching from Joshua 1, Kay  comes down off the platform and says, pointing directly at Beth,

"Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you."

And she realized, that  then important question was not whether or not she would fail God, but whether or not God would fail her. In the Hebrew, the word for fail translates to "be idle, to relax, to withdraw, to let drop." As Beth  Moore would say, "Beloved, is that not glorious?" .. God will not loosen his grip on us.

So despite my trying to wriggle free, or my not holding tight to Him, God will not relax his grasp of me. Feeling fairly blessed right about now.

Monday, March 19,  2007
 Eyes Fixed on the Author of my Faith

In the mid 80's I was reading  Calvin Miller... the Singer Trilogy and  The Table of Inwardness.  The Table of Inwardness long out of print describes a path to relationship with Jesus... relationship like you have with your spouse, your children, your best friend... what it is to know someone, and how we get to the knowing...

So of course Miller writes about listening to a person you seek relationship with, and proffers that we do not listen to God, we are often constantly speaking...  either in prayer directed towards God, or our minds are simply chattering with the business of the day. He suggested beginning quiet time with ten minutes of silence... and no thought... dusting away the thoughts as they crept into our mind.

And in the mid 80's I did this regularly...   not so simple, I might add. Try it. Sit there in a quiet spot and stop thinking for ten minutes... I guarantee thoughts will hammer at you... and as you perhaps successfully refuse to think about them, then they will slide in, slither in,  and you  wont even realize you are thinking about the noise your neighbor is presently making and how he always does that at 6 in the morning... This practice of silence was beneficial beyond expectations... I did hear God... felt the tangible presence of God... somewhere along the way I got out of this habit, I  would take it up form time to time...  in a time of great struggle I wrote The Keeper as a result of that listening...

all of this as backdrop to today...  anxiety seemed to be taking over...  and last week I began again... turning the thoughts off. I did this by focusing on a section out side our bedroom window, towards the tall pine in our front yard. Near the top of the tree there is a triangle of branches, and inside that triangle a myriad of other shapes. 

Lessons learned: We make false assumptions about people and about the Lord because we don't listen or look closely enough ... I spent the first couple of days thinking that the left side of my triangle was formed by an unusually thick branch, it was actually two branches nearly one in front of the other, nearly but not completely. (This came to me after watching a episode of Holmes on Homes... Mike was constructing a row of fencing, and he stated his aim of lining up the posts so perfectly that standing on the end you would only see the first post.) When I was back staring at the tree the next day, the wind rustled the branches a  bit.

Another Lesson: There is often more to a person that we think and  that we often miss because we see what we want and nothing else... inside my branches forming a triangle were other shapes, "negative space" in drawing terminology   ... including a primitive art dog shape, a lightning bolt, and a square. At first, I saw only my triangle, later in the week I saw it was actually more like an arrow pointed upwards, and then still later I began to see the many shapes inside.  (before you make yourself crazy trying to see these specific shapes... the photos were taken with our zoom lens much closer to the window, and a t much different angle than I usually spy the tree.)

Yet Another lesson:  a benefit of paying attention in  a relationship is you can gain comfort from the relationship even when not  physically present... after a week of looking at that space... today, looking in the early morning hours, in the darkness, it was difficult to see, but I knew what was there from the practice of the last week of looking and studying the branches... I knew that vague shadow in the middle was where smaller branches met to form yet another smaller arrowhead. Though the darkness obscured it, I knew it was there. And I could picture in my mind, the various facets of the my "arrow-triangle."  A satisfying thought as I prepare to leave Tony and the girls for a week... I carry them with me. And in moments of anxiety and stormy winds...  I am knowing Jesus better everyday.                                                                              

Wednesday, January 31 2007
 The Thread that Runs Through

Last night, at Bible study people shared prayer requests. There is discussion about people I know, and names of people I do not know, but the usual concerns... but from some of the older ladies... it is different.  One by one, these ladies bring forward people from the circle of their lives... their sister-in-law's neighbor's cousin with the re-energized threat of cancer, cousin's brother (although I did wonder, doesn't that make him your cousin also), neighbor's sister's husband,,, I felt this weariness and burden settle over me. As they spoke, I realized they cared about these people and their struggles. This was not idle chatter. And I am humbled.

These women remind me of the four friends of the paralytic man who go to great lengths to bring this man to the feet of Jesus. They push through crowds, they climb ladders, they carve out passageways, they work together, they give up the Super Bowl, don't fritter time away in front of the television, ... their choices reflected their priorities.

I thought later if these women did not spend time listening to others a connection would be lost. They form a thread that links all of us in this weave.

 

Thursday, January 25 2007
 Practice, Practice, Practice and the Lessons of Curling

As I tell Emily, even if you have to apologize a hundred times, you keep on doing it, when you blow it, apologize, fix it, make it right the best you can, and move on, doing it right this time... and when you blow it yet another time, start the whole thing over again... so I have this wonderful opportunity and space to write and I don't utilize it... shoot, I am not even blogging as much, ... I am sorry that I often waste this opportunity to offer up my poor man's devotional, or to borrow a phrase from Brennan Manning, my ragamuffin devotional. So forward on I trudge...

Curling... I don't get it, I admit it, but Hannah's teacher, Krista Scharf, is a champion curler... and champion teacher...she is much loved by her students... so Hannah loves curling... and tells me things about curling I never knew before... amazes me that my little Florida baby knows that "guard" is not a player's position rather an optimally placed stone. Curling is called by some, chess on ice: game of skillful execution of strategy.

A strategy of life... keeping in touch with God, and the execution of that strategy takes practice...

I was reading Genesis 18... where God comes to Abraham to reaffirm the promise of the son... God asks where Sarah is, and Abraham answers "in the tent." The next verse, it is restated, "Now Sarah was listening... from the tent.." And it struck me, Abraham arranged it so that Sarah could hear from God... he had previously sought out her help in serving, and he left her there where she could hear...

Here's the challenge for me, for you... first, are you putting yourself, arranging yourself and your life where you can hear from God? Do you leave quiet time, do you serve, do you say no to other diversions so that you can hear from God, do you go to where you likely can find Him?

And part two of the challenge... those for whom you are spiritually responsible (husbands ---your wives, parents--your kidlets, older brothers and sisters----annoying, pesky, not-so-bright, younger brothers and sisters, Paul's---your Timothy's) ... what can you do to arrange life so they can hear from God? By my example, I would guess is the most important and most powerful way to do this. It is the cry of my heart this morning, that my darling children, including those older two boys, would see that seeking the face of God is a priority for me. I  pray this morning that the thought preoccupies them...it all burns away, but today, have I been yearning for God?

Beyond my example, in thinking about Katherine, Emily and Hannah... Do I make available and encourage opportunities where they can be alone with God, serve God, worship God, fellowship with the family?  I attend to helping them develop habits such as brushing their teeth, and saying "please" and "thank you," picking up their clothes...Do I help them develop good habits in respect to their relationship with God?

Lately, life has been hurried and rushed and stuff has taken over... so the past few days, we have put back into our morning routine... devotional time and worship music... I have been missing out on moments such as this morning... Hannah reading in Proverbs, chapter 25, comes to tell me with this parcel of insight she has gained...

If you find honey, eat just enough—
too much of it, and you will vomit. proverbs 25:16

Hannah's practical life application went something like this... "if Emily keeps getting more clothes, chances are good that eventually she will throw up on them."

also I had the chance to pray with Hannah for her teacher, Ms. Scharf, who is in a Curling Tournament... I asked Hannah if there was anything she wanted to ask God this morning, what would it be... "that Ms. Scharf be the best curler in the world today."

ps. click here to see another article where Hannah and classmates are mentioned about 3/4 of the way down...

Monday, October 16, 2006
 The Choir Won the Day

Now most of us understand that life, events, stuff goes better, easier, smoother when we are thankful, when we carry gratitude with us. Yet sometimes when things press in we don't resort first to Thanksgiving do we? We find ourselves trapped in anxiety and resentment. Pastor Al's sermon two Sundays past, "Designated Thanks-Givers," spoke directly to this point. 

Worship needs to be intentional or it does not happen. Pastor Al pointed us to Scripture where people were chosen and designated by name to give thanks. There were those whose regular duties included giving thanks in the temple (the Levites: 1 Chronicles 23) and additionally on special occasions of crisis, or celebration, people were designated to give thanks.

In our house, Katherine is designated to put worship music on the stereo each morning. I find that we end up humming and singing the tunes that we hear early in the morning. Operating here is the basic principle that voids will be filled, one way or another. We choose intentionally to fill it with worship music. So when we have worship music on, the television  doesn't go on in the mornings. There is less bickering and less complaining. (not entirely erased though ).

By planning into our days worship and thanksgiving, we make it a habit. When thanksgiving is a habit,  in times of pressure, we naturally turn to worship. Warren Wiersbe said, "we often hear about 'praying our way through a crisis', but what about 'worshipping our way through a crisis. ' 

I usually make the ATC's about things God has spoken to my heart, but this time I did a layout. Angie posted a photo of her daughter, Caroline and it made me think of Pastor Al's reference to King Jehoshaphat's response to the vast army threatening his people...

After consulting the people, Jehoshaphat appointed men to sing to the Lord and to praise him for the splendor of his holiness as they went out at the head of the army, saying: "Give thanks to the Lord, for his love endures forever."
2 Chron. 20:21

Pastor Al said, "The choir won the day." I look at the photo of Caroline and the spirit of worship that exudes and I think yes, the choir will win the day."

 

Friday, September 15, 2006
 Boiling Water


We have been hearing these phrases  most of our lives. We have grown so weary of hearing them that we actually become patient, but more than likely we pretend we are patient.

In church, Chris Frey has been teaching on longsuffering. He discussed first, anger, and how we often choose expressions of anger over expressions of patience. “Expressions of patience” how can that be? Patience is inert.  It is staying still, isn’t it? Patience is after all, patient? Chris totally rocked my thinking and hopefully, my actions, by part two of longsuffering.  

Patience is not resignation. Patience is active. Active Patience requires and demands trust. To be actively patient  means since I am not worrying, nor fretting about the outcome, I am free to do the right thing at the right time.  

Chris pointed us to the sleeping disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus did not avoid this situation. He could have left them at home. He could have not expected anything from them. (far easier than being disappointed.) Yet Jesus chooses to take them despite the risk of being disappointed because it is the right thing to do. Later, they would have to know how vital they were to the new church, how Jesus valued them.  

So what do we do when we are faced with a patience-requiring situation? Generally, either we start looking for another solution, we try to escape it,  or we seek to dominate and rule the situation- to subjugate it, so to speak, to conquer it.  

To understand subjugating a situation you need only look at my history with computers. Thankfully, I can say that I have made remarkable strides in this area. My previous MO of responding to computer crashes, glitches, hiccups, hang-ups was to rush in with a hundred  different “solutions.” These solutions included things I had heard you could do when you had a computer problem, something I had tried previously with a different glitch, and advice from any one of the dubious web “experts”, or worse  yet one of their little software remedies. When those 8356 things did not work out in the first five minutes, I began to think about re-formatting the computer (which for those who don’t know what that means… I would wipe out the hard drive, scrub away all the information stored on computer in order to begin again.) The only competing solution was to buy a new computer.  

I still remember Christian Currasco telling me to  be methodical and bring order to the process of trying to fix the computer. “Don’t start doing every “fix” you can think of… you are likely to make it worse, or not know for the future how you resolved the problem. This disaster will be of no value to you.” Because that lesson has begun to take hold of me and become a habit… I now know a lot about fixing computers and can help others (sometimes… I am not that good) I know how to avoid many problems and I can quickly fix many problems. And I have, over the years and inevitability of computer glitches, saved a lot of data, precious photos, correspondence, records, money and time to do other things. 

Escaping the patience-requiring situation is another popular option. We find ourselves numbing ourselves with alcohol, drugs, shopping, busyness in pursuit of the pointless. We try to escape these situations  by creating diversions for ourselves and others. We have temper tantrums getting angry about other things. We attribute blame to people and circumstances. We help engineer dramatic situations  that take focus off the real situation provoking us. 

You know what I mean… we take up a new musical instrument or try to learn something new such as a software program or woodworking , and we aren’t good at it, or we aren’t fast enough. We are experiencing challenges to our pride and humility since generally you have to be bad at something before you can be good. And so we quit... The easiest way to quit is shift blame to a person or circumstance as they are impeding – blocking our pursuit of the goal, the dream, the learning….  

Of course we could also start looking for another solution (other than ideal one)… we are waiting for Christmas morning to arrive so we can open the presents and we sneak in and peak at the gifts,  we are waiting for a new MP3 player and we steal it, we get inappropriately angry trying to force someone who has no control over the situation to fix it, we want the new job so we sabotage the other person we believe is trying to get it also,  we are waiting for information, a situation to become clearer, waiting to know if we are on right track… and we spy on someone, we cross boundaries… we browbeat them to tell us, and thus miss the opportunity to have someone come to us, or we get into huge trouble with the press (as in the case of illegal wiretaps,) or we lose trust in a relationship. 

Missed opportunities… they haunt us don’t they? Missed opportunities are the huge price we pay because of impatience. What do I mean? Opportunities only exist in the present. And because impatience is "other- time" focused we miss the present, and so we lose opportunity. Gone forever is the very present opportunity to help someone, the present opportunity for pleasure, we miss the opportunity to prepare for the future blessing. (had the disciples stayed awake they might have gained understanding which would have strengthened them and given them solace in those horrific and terrorizing times leading up to, and immediately following the crucifixion. ) 

We stop becoming part of the solution and we start becoming part of the problem We lose accomplishing that dream, that job promotion, the joy of playing the instrument, being a benediction to others.

When I am being actively patient people can look to me for direction because I am not flailing about and people can gain comfort from me.  

Actually watched pots do boil, and good things come to impatient people… but ask yourself what happens when we focus on the pot? We are not doing anything else in the meantime and are playing catch-up after it begins to boil… did you get the pasta ready or set the table, or did you keep watching the pot…, or we begin to hinder the boiling process by taking the lid off the pot incessantly, or to beat this analogy to death we start over with new water and a new pot, or we short circuit the house inspecting the wiring to see if we can get stove hotter…

And while good things do sometimes come to impatient people, more than often than not, the best things come to people who wait. 

While waiting for the news, for the check in the mail, for the other person to straighten up and to see the light, for Christmas morning to come, for God to act, for the party to begin, for the ship to come in, for the pain to stop, for the line to move faster, for people at the government office to get more efficient… what are you doing to help the situation, to bring stability, to prepare for the outcome?

The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.  

Doing the right thing at the right time. Patience implies trust that when the mud settles and the waters clear God will have taken care of it… whatever it is.

ATC here.

Wednesday, August 9, 2006
 Paying Attention

I have been thinking about trials. Friends so dear and precious to me have been struggling as of late, illnesses, heartbreaks, disappointments... and some seem to do so well, and others not so well. My life is remarkably good, I see it, I feel it... I am aware of it. There are many things, mind you, that I wish God would attend to, but I have a peace.

These days the hardest thing is never knowing hour to hour, day to day whether I will have the energy the wherewithal to accomplish stuff. The stuff of life, the stuff of the heart and relationships, the creative stuff that is bubbling up and over all the day (William Carlos Williams' image of the fragment of poetry going down the drain with his shaving cream haunts me) . But as you can see, in comparison to the tragedies of life, losing the illusion of being able to plan (and that is all we ever have... the illusion) is slight.

Paying attention heals.  Paying attention to the expressions on faces, scents in the, the lilt of a voice, the stirring of the hear at odd moments... recognizing and identifying these details and others... making sure they don't  fade away... all of this heals. (Perhaps this is why people blog.) Julia Cameron brought this back to my attention when she wrote, "it may begin as the healing of a particular pain, the lost lover, the sickly child, the shattered dream. But what is healed finally, is the pain that underlies all pain the pain that we are all unutterably alone." Cameron goes on to say that attention is an act of connection. Rilke wrote in his letters to the young poet: "We are unutterably alone, essentially, especially in the things most intimate and most important to us."  When we pay attention and see the pain in this world about us, and desire to see God in the midst of it...we will not be disappointed. And we will lay hold of that elusive peace...and we will not be alone.

In my blog post I referenced the question... "What do you get when squeeze a lemon?" I like this so much more than the saying "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" because frankly sometimes I am so petulant that I am screaming inside, "BUT I WANT FRUIT PUNCH!" Sometimes, the sting of lemons hurts so much, and life is so ugly... what I am in need of is not a desire for lemonade, rather the knowledge that I am in a unique relationship with the living God.

Why does paying attention heal? Because it is truth. In a world of deception, truth brings light... light reveals God.

Saturday, June 17, 2006
 The Quality of Mercy

Tony and I went to see The Merchant of Venice last night (as performed by the Cambrian Players of the Lakehead ). I have so much to write about concerning this evening and the play itself. But I will try to confine myself to one purpose here (the blog exists for indulging my rambling.) As we walked out into the soft misty evening air, Tony said he was "brilliant." "He" being William Shakespeare.  Oh yes, he was brilliant. The sheer powerful truth smacked you. Tony and I could not stop talking about all that happened in the play, or about the qualities of mercy.

I had, for those who don't know, (in addition to the obligatory high school exposure to Shakespeare), at the University taken several semesters of Shakespeare. Then later I pursued my Masters in Literature and studied more Shakespeare. However, not the Merchant. And I had forgotten the story in its entirety. I will recap:

Bassanio, a Venetian gentleman wishes to court Portia, a wealthy and beautiful heiress on the island of Belmont, who in accordance with her father's will must marry the man who passes a test that her father set for her suitors.

However to pay for the voyage, Bassanio must borrow money from his friend Antonio, a merchant, who in turn must borrow it from Shylock, a moneylender. The penalty, if Antonio cannot repay Shylock, will be a pound of Antonio's flesh.

Antonio expects to be able to repay Shylock once his ships come in. But while Bassanio is in Belmont winning Portia's hand, those ships are wrecked and the bond expires. Antonio it seems will have to pay the penalty. Bassanio is now a wealthy man as Portia gives him half her fortune and insists that they pay whatever is necessary to pay the debt for Antonio. Shylock,  bitter because of many other circumstances in his life will not accept the payment. He would rather have the pound of flesh.

I wrote above that Tony and I could not stop talking about the many qualities, facets of mercy. The play is sprinkled at every turn with the nuances of mercy and forgiveness. Yet it is the courtroom scene where the choice of relying on the Law or relying upon mercy confronts each of us. I will not attempt here to provide an analysis of a Shakespearean play (he was after all brilliant.). But I want to talk about one thing: Shylock  insists upon the law because it serves his purposes and he sees no reason why he would need mercy. We don't ever, do we? It is our natural condition that we never see why we would need mercy. We conduct our lives in such a way so that we will not need mercy. But the truth is, the unavoidable truth is we all need mercy. We cannot conduct our lives, our matters, our business in such a way that we will not mercy. We cannot be careful enough. We cannot be good enough. We always end up in the place where we need mercy.

Shylock is trapped, despite not knowing it. Portia disguised as a Judge implores Shylock to extend mercy based on the argument that the "quality of mercy is not strained." Both the merciful and the forgiven are blessed when mercy is given. Shylock refuses... he, after all, "craves the Law."

At the very moment Shylock is about to cut Antonio with his knife, Portia points out a flaw in the contract. The bond only allows Shylock to remove the flesh, not blood, of Antonio. If Shylock were to shed any drop of Antonio's blood in doing so, his life will be forfeited under Venetian laws. There is always a trick ending, a twist. In life, there is always the unexpected.

Defeated, Shylock decides to accept monetary payment for the defaulted bond previously offered, but is denied. Portia pronounces that option is lost, and for his attempt to take the life of a citizen, Shylock's property and his life will be forfeit, half to the government and half to Antonio. Portia tells him... you chose the law, now that is all you have.

So the lesson is we will end up needing mercy, whether we think or not. Whether we plan for it or not, we will need mercy. We must choose now (ahead of that moment) to stake our hopes on mercy, and not on the Law.

Monday, June 4, 2006
 Read All About It!

No this is not a late Easter post. I have been wanting to tell this story for awhile now though. The house was full. Bethany, Sarah, Joel and Amanda were here. Bethany had a friend spending the night. Emily had a friend, Mariah, from school over for dinner. We were eating a dinner of make your own deli sandwiches (with three different breads, jalapeños, lettuce, cheeses, meats, all sorts of spreads and condiments), French fries (fried to perfection in my "Frybaby") and fresh baby carrots. Kids were everywhere with plates of food. Chatter filled every corner.

At the dining room table sat Joel, Emily, Hannah and Mariah. Emily turns to Mariah and says, (direct quote...no paraphrase) "Can you believe what Peter did?" Mariah's face displays horror, "Oh Emily I know. Ms. Redfern said he was swearing and everything." So it's a school story and I am listening. My attention has been caught. What bad student are the girls gossiping about, I wonder? And as we listen, we discover the girls are talking about Peter, the disciple of Jesus who in a moment of humanity and cowardice denied knowing his beloved friend, Jesus.

They are relating this story with such passion and immediacy and relevance as if it happened yesterday in the school yard. Joel chimes in... he has heard all about this incident also. Did we know for instance that as early as Easter morning... only a few days later... did we know "that Jesus forgave Peter already?"

And so my simple little point is... when we tell this "old, old story"... do we communicate it with that much passion that makes it new again? However the girls' teacher had told the story, it was as fresh and relevant as Brad and Angelina. So much so they had to share it with us at dinner. And when Joel asked if I remembered how quickly the forgiveness came, well,  gratitude and humility flooded my senses.

Tell someone the story today.

Friday, April 28, 2006
 Pouring into Lives

Yes it has taken me a long time to post this entry, but it is interesting that it has been percolating this entire time and I have continued to think about it. Way back on the ninth of April we went to Thunder Bay Christian Fellowship to hear Nikolas play the drums. He studies at Full Gospel Bible College in Eston and serves in a worship band with classmates. One preliminary detail to dispense with right off the bat: we were all unanimous, (especially the cousins) Nikolas was the best one up there.  No, not because you could make out the drums over everything else. (Katherine tells me that is not good when I say "I could hear you more than anyone else.) Rather, Nikolas played those drums and on his face and in his demeanor and through his carriage you could see a man.

Beyond that observation I was also impressed by a few other moments. The guitar player, Brad who shared his testimony reminded us of Earl. He was going to play football but somehow ended up in Bible College and then spent some time in Hawaii... besides being easy to imagine Earl sharing the same story, the shock of blond hair in his face and his relaxed conversational tone charmed Katherine and me. Even Emily noticed that he looked just like Earl, "sort of sleepy", while worshipping.

Then a young man from the Bible College, Derek, who calls TBCF, his church home began to speak . With humour and tears, he shared his gratitude for the mentoring he had received at the church.  His detailed moments and specifics mirrored many of my memories. I recalled the people who had poured into our lives and the lives of the girls over the years.

As a family, we  have never had to walk this road alone, not once. I reminded a friend recently that she had not stumbled to where she is these days... the Lord had led her there. She need not fear that she had, through mistakes or willfulness, brought herself to a place God did not know about. Every difficult journey , and the pleasant ones as well, God has provided us companionship and support. He has provided friends who have held our arms up when we were tired.

That Sunday, in church the love was tangible in that room. You know when you stand in the midst of hard-working and courageous love. And behind each of those students you could see church bodies and praying hearts. I think of that Dr. Seuss book, "Oh the Places You Will Go!" We don't get places alone. You don't get to good places by your own efforts without the love of others, and you don't have to face hard places alone. God knows where each of us are, and that is very good news.

Thursday, March 30, 2006
 My Heart and Quiet Little Girls

Eight years ago, Hannah slipped into our lives. Already then, we knew that to be Emily's little sister would be a unique calling. I imagined the only way to deal with that position would be to become more Emily-like than Emily. But Hannah knew another way. She would become Hannah. How anyone could so resolutely not speak when determined not to speak I will never know. As driven as Emily is to speak her mind on any and every topic, Hannah is equally driven not to be forced to speak. Those of us longtime Hannah-Watchers remember the days when her response to your speaking to her was to stare at you and blink. The untrained observer might think she was paralyzed and mute and this was the only form of communication available to her. You could speak to her for many minutes at a time, (you always gave up before she did), and that creepy, incessant blinking is all you received in return. But the eyes that were blinking were stunning and arresting.

So on our trip to Dryden this month, when Laurel came up the stairs at Tammy's house and said, "Riley has a friend in Hannah," I laughed, that laugh that comes from understanding. "Hannah's finally found someone quieter than she is." I had met Riley the year before, but had not drawn in the details. Youngest daughter of Tony's younger sister. This year, I watched Hannah and Riley, play together and not speak for over an hour. But their play was in concert, was interactive, was gleeful.

Later in the evening, Riley sat at the kitchen table and  drew intently.  She brought it to her father and spoke with him as she described it to him. To the rest of us, she merely presented it.  No words. But no words were needed. I wish I had that picture now to post on the site... there were three clouds, smiling. It was impossible to look at the picture and not smile, not feel happy yourself. There was a lifting inside. I wasn't unhappy before I saw the picture, but I was definitely happier after. 

A touch of envy and wonder preoccupies me thinking of Riley and of Hannah. They have this blessed economy of language. They are making their way in this world, moving people, impacting people, touching emotions, and grabbing hearts captive.

Friday, March 17, 2006
 The Colo(u)r of Love

"My yellow food," Tony whispered excitedly to me about his dinner plate at Tammy's house. Forget what food stylists might say regarding the presentation of a meal... Tony spoke those words with mighty anticipation and appetite. Laurel had  prepared a vegetable platter resembling a pirate's treasure chest of glistening red and orange peppers, broccoli, tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, carrots... some still with crystal drops of water... piled high and heaping over on the tray. Yet this is not what we were all anxious to dig into. Our eyes (and stomachs) concentrated instead upon the platters of crusty chicken that Laurel had just taken out of the oven at her home, Tammy's hash brown and cheddar casserole, the soft puffy rolls, the butter, the niblets of corn, and the ranch and dill pickle dips (ostensibly for the aforementioned vegetables, but really good mixed in with the other food).

We ate seconds and thirds and then the kids and Tony enjoyed a snack of chicken again at 10 PM, (Tammy and Morley washed a lot of dishes that night.) The meal stands as a visual emblem of the evening. I wore that evening the way you wear your favorite robe, not the fancy robe you got for Christmas last, or the silky slinky one.. rather the flannel robe that stands ready to keep you warm when you are down with a cold. The laughter around you, the crinkled eyes smiling at you as others catch up on the intervening days and weeks apart, kids running through the rooms, private conversations in the kitchen, photo albums passed around... this wraps about your shoulders and embraces you.

Tammy and Laurel love their little brother relentlessly. Their love, pressed down and spilling over towards me and all these many children, (I have a whole other journal entry regarding Riley... this petite girl with the big eyes brimming with wonder.) proves that love only grows in its capacity to include and connect. BUT their love for Tony, like the meal we savored, satisfies, delights, and provides oh so many leftovers. You see it in their eyes when they look at him, the glances they exchange with each other, the way they love me and his family, the fussing over him, the questions they ask... I think everyone should be loved this way by someone. This love for their younger brother is a meal prepared together. Nothing haphazard, rather it is planned and thought out...you never lose the sense that it is both their duty and their joy to do so. And such love, like good meals, leaves you refreshed and nourished... much the way Tony felt after leaving his sisters' homes.

Tuesday February 28, 2006
 Memories

I am making a wedding album for Melinda and Earl. There are bits and pieces of this album everywhere. The album is a combination of digital and paper design... so  on the computer and on my craft table in the basement, you can find scraps of their love story.

For this project I sent both Melinda and Earl separate sets of questions about their courtship, engagement, and wedding. Their answers delighted me, and led me to some insights. I was reminded, not surprisingly that she and I understand each other. She knew what I meant with each of my questions. Her answers flowed with my questions. His answers did not. While reading Earl's answers I kept re-reading my original question to discern what he meant. BUT, from his answers you can see... that man loves my girl.

Finally, the power of memories continues to astound me. As I composed the questions I really didn't reflect upon the wedding or their marriage. I had topics, themes I was including in the album and wanted them to provide me with some "grist" for the creative mill. Yet as I read Melinda's answers I began to cry. Her heart and her personality were tangible through her memories and recollections of that time. Earl's answers, (though completely different in approach,) achieved the same effect. It was as if they each reached through the miles and spent some time with me. Earl wrote at the end.... "this was actually pretty hard, but brought back some great memories."

We often avoid thinking about the past I think because we know the power of memories. Memories remind us how much we love people and how much more important the times we loved are than the times we were wounded into isolation.

Tuesday January 17, 2006
 Beauty

A few weeks ago Tony gently reminded me it had been quite awhile since I had written anything here... and for the same amount of time, Melinda had been not so gently reminding me that we had not posted photos nor had I had a journal entry in sometime. Where does the time go?

There has been quite a bit of life going on since the last entry. In no particular order, Jenni, Diego, and Mary came for the US Thanksgiving, we celebrated a few birthdays, we found a new  church, Amanda was chosen for an All-Stars hockey tournament, Tony was promoted at work, Mary and Jenni moved, Jenni and Mary returned to Thunder Bay for Christmas with my mom, there were band concerts and Christmas programs, and then there was simply the day to day life of families scattered near and far, as well as the holidays.

We took my mom to the airport today (actually we took her twice as the first flight was cancelled due to weather.) Before we left for the airport, I walked to Mac's (convenience store here) with the little girls to get some cash and returning to the house I was struck by the consummate beauty surrounding our yard and house. My mom delightedly told many people it was like an enchanted wonderland. An accurate description. Shimmering white and rich brown with hints of dark forest green... the landscape was like an artist's palette of colors.

Where does the time go? I don't know. I know today I wanted to slow time down. I didn't want my mother to go back: the time with her had been too sweet. But walking home through all that beauty with the girls,  time seemed to mercifully slow down for just a bit. That respite reminded me and inspired me to extend what is in our heart: wishes for a Happy New Year from us to you and a stated intention (no resolution, an intention here)... to write more regularly here.

Tuesday November 1, 2005
 I'll Sing for Candy

Okay to start with... we don't do Halloween...it's a long story, but we don't celebrate Halloween. (If you really want ... you can email me and I'll explain.) So let the story begin there.  Now I have been saying since the 1st of September, this country takes Halloween seriously. That's how long the stores have been selling the candy and elaborate decorations have been going up all around the neighborhood. Tony and I bought a bag of candy in the afternoon almost as an afterthought . When Emily and Hannah (and later on Katherine) came home from school they were delighted to see the candy and began tallying which were the most desirable choices. At dinner, we sampled from the giant bowl of candy on the table and I renewed my appreciation for chocolate covered raisins (Katherine's favorite also). Even better the Reese's!

Tony (at Emily's request) checked the front porch light to ensure visitors would know to come to our house. And Emily and Hannah, dressed in jeans and T-shirts, parked themselves on the front porch, where one could have built an igloo. (They are still catching on to the principle of dressing for the weather.) Frequent arguments broke out over whose turn it was to distribute candy and Katherine would go mediate.

I was frying donuts and pouring apple juice when Emily came running in... "there's an adult here... you need to come." Standing on the stoop was a young man dressed as a witch holding handfuls of candy. He introduced himself as Brandon. He and his family lived across the street and they saw Emily and Hannah on the porch, "looking cold," and they wanted to make sure the girls had candy. He was trying to explain Halloween to me. I assured him we did have Halloween in the US. I even had a daughter back in Florida dressed as a giant Whoopee Cushion. We chatted briefly and I gave him some donuts to take home.

A few minutes later, Jack, two houses down and owner of a really big dog named "Logan" brought huge goody bags for Katherine, Emily and Hannah. Still later, Brandon's Grandma returned with even more candy. The next half hour brought more neighbors to our door with candy. At one point I asked Katherine where the little ones were. She said, "Emily has figured out if she sings in the front yard, people will bring her candy."

At the end of the evening, we had an even bigger bowl of candy sitting on the table. We had shared homemade donuts with the neighborhood. The house smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. Hannah told me she liked the way people did trick or treating in Canada. And Emily declared it "the best day ever." Mostly I was thinking about how I wanted to share this story with all of you... the evening was rich and warm. All these gifts of kindness brought to our very door step... how fortunate can life get?

 

Wednesday  October 19, 2005
 The Gift of Fat Rain

“NO Emily that is just fat rain.” I said to Emily as she hopped up and down on the couch leaning out of the living room window proclaiming it is snowing , snowing, snowing. Last night, we had our first bit of snow since arriving in Canada. A few weeks ago the weather people had predicted snow and Emily did not want to go to sleep for fear of missing it. Well the snow never came and Emily pronounced the weathermen liars and believed firmly it would never snow. Tony tried to assure her that the snow would come and not go away. Finally last night a hint of snow arrived. The girls danced in the driveway, telephoned their sisters, and Hannah put a dirty handful of slush into the freezer.  Falling asleep last night some thoughts lingered in my mind… there are a few things you can count on in this world… it will snow in Canada, my girls will want to share any news (big and small) with each other, God loved me yesterday and He will love me today. 

God works out His love so often through his people and through the gifts they give us now that endure into the future in ways no one envisioned (certainly not the giver). In those lingering thoughts last night I thought of Isel Vazquez and the snow.  Isel is the wife of the Pastor who married Melinda and Earl.  She is the mother of Melinda’s best friend, an artist and among many other things... a student of God’s creation.  

A few summers ago the church hosted a ladies luncheon and the theme was (I believe) Christmas in July.  My task was to make “some” snowflakes. You remember those paper, cut-out, folded snowflakes from school… all lacy and delicate. My first attempts resembled paper plates with a few holes punched through. But gradually I got the technique wired and we were in the snowflake business. For close to a week the girls and I (even Emily and Hannah were helping somehow) folded, snipped and slit squares of white paper … a few in the morning before school, idle moments on the telephone, after school before homework, watching television, maybe a few at the dinner table and I always did “one last one” before bed when the house was quiet. As with all ministry at the church we prayed before, during and after snowflake creating. That Saturday morning at the church there were all these hundreds of snowflakes we had made ... all over the tables, napkins rings, cards… everywhere.  (And back at our house were all the innards of all those snowflakes, bits of white paper tucked into couch folds, sliding glass door tracks, corners of rooms… that I would continue to find months later…. much like after a craft project involving glitter.)  

The moment of sitting down as the teaching was about to begin stands out. I was content… the fellowship had been so delightful and the food ... well the best food in the world is at that church… the table buckling under the spread of Hispanic, Southern and Asian foods. Life was full and rich. I didn't think I needed more. Isel’s words changed my life. She spoke about the physical properties of snow and gave us a clearer and more intimate look at God that day. I knew God better after that lunch. I picked up one of the many paper snowflakes scattered on the table and wrote on each of the points of the snowflake one of the “points” Isel had made about God… things I could count on about snow and God. I tucked that snowflake  into my Bible and worked those points into my heart.

Some time later during a terribly rough time in life, I would recite those points over and over, fingering that worn, tattered snowflake and meditating on each of the points. The truths of it all comforted me. There were things that were true. Snow was a dimension of water… which exists as gas, liquid and solid. Life could tumble around me but some things are true and I could count on them. The poetry of it all comforted me. Snow did begin in the mountains and melt and rush home towards the ocean.   

This morning four thoughts wrap me up…

 

Monday  September 19, 2005
 Surfers and Worship

Now as a footnote to the last entry… or perhaps better said… an additional note… the bass player in the worship band last Sunday … reminded me of our Earl.  The similarities caught me off guard and melted my heart. The worship band had been much smaller over the summer and this was the first time I had seen the bass player. The bass player at church had Earl’s boyish good looks and that same charming, engaging smile. He also had Earl's surfer's tan. They appear to share the same wardrobe; in fact, I am sure that Earl owns the exact combination of shorts and plaid short-sleeved button down shirt. The prominent difference was their style of playing. We have long teased Earl; or rather, teased Melinda about Earl’s laid back bass playing. (This is partially Earl’s style and personality but also heavily influenced by the senior Pastor of their church). Only his fingers move when he is playing.  The bass player at church seemed to engage his entire body in constant motion.

But this difference served to highlight another similarity between the two men. There is no mistaking their shared passion in worship. The name of Earl's band is "Shachah", a Hebrew word for worship meaning "to bow down, to prostrate oneself, to crouch before God in worship." On Sunday,  this Canadian bass player offered his music as a gift. You could see there was no thought of self as he played. Psychologists use the term "flow" to describe an experience that is at once demanding and rewarding. The flow state ensues when one is engaged in self-controlled, goal-related, meaningful actions resulting in the suspension of time and a freedom from self-conscious thought. Flow is derived from complete absorption in activity. I have seen this in Earl many times even across the tiny image produced from internet live streaming video. My transplanted California surfer son-in-law does not "space-out", rather he completely dedicates himself to his music, and this dedication is the result of focused attention.

How can that be? To be able to be fully yourself, most authentically yourself... and yet your body, mind and will are fully in service to another. I recognize more and more that worship while directed away from myself allows me to be most authentically myself.

And as a proud mom-in-law I suggest the following link to the website of Earl's band... http://shachahmusic.com/.  Earl is the cute one in the middle.

 

Tuesday September 13, 2005
 Frisbees and Worship

The game seemed easy enough. We were to land the Frisbee into the camp chair, except no matter what we did the Frisbee landed on the blacktop of our driveway. (http://20birds.net/emilysbirthday.htm) Amanda made us laugh because she told us that she couldn't concentrate if anyone was standing by the chair. "That  distracts me." This was funny because the task was so hopelessly impossible that someone standing by the chair or someone blindfolding you... what difference did it make? But she paid no attention... she would insist that no one stand by the chair... and she would concentrate, aim, throw the Frisbee...and miss the chair by yards (or meters depending on whether you are speaking Canadian or American). Until the time that the Frisbee landed ever so briefly on the chair seat before sliding out the side and to the ground. And then we stopped laughing at Amanda.

(I should add that Tony picked up the Frisbee, seemingly oblivious to the chaos swirling about, and on his first attempt... nailed the chair with the Frisbee.)

On Sunday, at church I felt a lifting of my spirit as we walked in. We sang songs about freedom and celebration and I certainly felt that I was "trading in my sorrows" for the "joy of the Lord. We began communion and the sound of laughter began. Somewhere in the church near the front a woman was laughing. At first, I pushed it aside...but then it was louder and more noticeable and our children sitting in the row in front of us began to look at each other and back at us. I had never really contemplated the phenomenon of "holy laughter" before this, but I began to think ... I had walked in and felt a joy... and that joy had made me smile. So what was different here... communion should bring us joy. Yet, I was thinking (and so were the children) about the woman laughing (by now quite loud), and we were thinking about the other people giggling in response to her. I was not thinking so much about the "body broken for me".

Perhaps people feel that connecting with the living God is hopelessly impossible... and so what does it matter if someone is laughing or howling or talking during worship?  Perhaps people feel that worship is an individual matter and I should focus more on God and less on the distractions around me. But I look at this much the way I look at Amanda and the Frisbee.

She brings to the Frisbee what she brings to hockey. Watching Amanda play hockey is a moment of beauty ... you can't see her face but her body is fluid and moving with purpose... so distinct from the rest (the only girl with her blond hair poking out under her helmet and flying behind her) .... and yet so clearly a part of her team as she seamlessly glides with teammates.... there is a concert of unity. In the driveway, it was the same. She was taking turns...cheering on and encouraging the efforts of others (sad efforts)... and on her turn, she focused and did what she needed to do. She eventually mastered landing that Frisbee dead center in the chair.  And it never grew boring watching her hit the chair.

No rule book exists for worship or for sportsmanship... but we do know don't we... when an athlete is supporting the team ... or when the athlete has forgotten the team? Worship is not effortless. God takes time to reach us... and  He recognizes that this communication requires concentration.  But when we recognize that we are in His presence... it is a moment of beauty... and never boring. There is an individual concert of unity as we give all of our selves to this... but also a corporate unity... as we assist each other in worship.

 

Monday August 22, 2005
 blueberry picking, part I ... or...
"thars bars in dem der woods"

Tony had to go out of town for work.  The plan was we would drop him off and then we would pick blueberries for the six hours that he was working.  We packed sandwiches and chips and filled the jug with cold lemonade.   When we were a few miles away, Tony says… “Have I told you about my bear survival techniques?”  Now I knew he was serious, but I decided I would not need to know this.  I decided we would not run into bears. Although, “don’t corner the bear” seemed simple enough. 

While dropping him off, we went inside and the woman he was to be working with offered the advice...”stay together and make lots of noise.”   The lots of noise part seemed easy enough for us. At our first stop, we hop out of the car and cacophony ensues.  Emily begins singing a song she is composing as she goes along about bears and mauling skin.  Katherine is shouting gibberish. Hannah is praying. I am trying to corral us into a unified approach, as I am worried any nearby bears or humans will think we are crazy and/or molesting wildlife.

We did not see any bears that day despite Emily’s fervent wishes that we would.  The marvelous gift of a pair of moose along side the road presented itself and Katherine took some great photos [see http://20birds.net/blueberrypicking.htm].  It was near the end of the day and almost time to pick up Tony.  We were taking one last run down the mine access road in search of more berries.  On the right hand side of the road, in a  small pool of water... two moose refreshing themselves.  When they noticed us, they casually and slowly turned and then quickly scampered into the darkness of the woods.

In preparing to come to Canada, people handed us much advice... and many warnings about what to be careful for…or what to protect ourselves against. But not many people told us about the occurrence of shy moose just a few feet away.  Moose so close that you could take photos and moose so unexpected at the end of a hot and dusty day.  Only a few weeks before...we were in Florida, we had never seen a moose even in a zoo before.  Warnings are good… but we should also be expecting pleasant surprises.  God delights in giving us good and perfect gifts.

 

Saturday August 20, 2005
 reflections of a mail-order bride

This is not going to be a chronicle of events ... rather a drawstring bag keeping those memorial stones collected along the way. I glance back over my shoulder and see this marked path (wasn't it C.S.Lewis who said...God draws straight with a crooked line....). On the way to here, occasionally I had enough vision to recognize "important  moments"... or crossroads...but mostly I just kept one foot in front of the other and jotted down in the margins of my Bible (or on scraps of paper tucked into those same pages) dates and thoughts.

Now I have the luxury of internet access and a little carved out space right here (prepared by Tony) and so I will assemble my small (but growing) collection of thoughts thought and things seen.

At first this bag held mostly song lyrics... lyrics that Tony and I had found echoed these whispers in our lives... and then there were these moments cast in bass-relief against the flat backdrop of time ... moments that brought everything else to life when time seemed to be unrelentingly slow.  They were pointing towards this life we hoped for... and now I collect reflections of prayers answered and moments that give width, breadth and depth to the journey here. (Not that I have this "canada thing" wired). Life seems to unfold and define itself daily.

But it is the people of our lives that form the weave of our world... if I didn't have all of you to share these splendid riches with... there would not be much joy to it all.