Significance

The email said: "We have to write a paper on our favorite artist. I picked you. Can you answer the following questions about yourself?"

This was a strong encouragement in my hectic day. My ex-student had to write a school paper on famous artists...and she chose me! I looked happily at the list of questions.
#1.  When were you born?
"That's easy," I said, typing in ,"Not yesterday."
#2. What style of art? What medium?
"Hmmm...eclectic, I guess...but probably would be most aligned with the expressionistic movement. (Google it- I'm not writing your paper for you!) However, I don't really have a single style. In fact, a major criticism I often hear is that I have no style...but you might not want to put that in your paper."
#3  What makes you significant?
"You mean other than being the only one in the family with green eyes?"

Now this is a hard question. It is the sort of answer that is engraved on tombstones. Living people rarely know their significance. Or if they do, they are a little self absorbed, don't you think? I suppose by significance, the teacher doesn't want to know what makes every human being significant, that she  has been created by a loving God who knew her before He knit her together in the womb and numbers every hair on her head? Or that I am part of the body of Christ and that if any part of the body does not be who she was designed to be, the whole body suffers?"
I paused and considered all the implications of this question.
Significance.....
We all yearn for significance. We all want to love and be loved. We all experience pain and suffering and despair and most of us find the strength to weather it one way or another. We all had mothers and fathers and most of us were the light of their life. Still, even beyond that, all of us want to have impacted the world in some important way.

On this day in 1895, physicist Wilhelm Rontgen observed xrays, forever changing medicine and disease detection, as well as pornographic machines at the airport screening gate. Now that is significance! Picasso changed the flavor of modern art, dabbling in so many different break-through styles, that he set the art world's heads spinning out of control. Rachel could have chosen Picasso....he was undoubtedly significant.

But the young girl that I had taught for years in my little art class chose me. I suppose, from her perspective, I was a great artist, in the same way that all parents are great until the child reaches age 13.

#3. Significance....com'on...you can answer this one!

I thought of Enoch, in Genesis Chapter 5, who has four sentences in the Bible about him. All we know of Enoch is that he was born, had some kids, and then:
^"24 Enoch walked faithfully with God; then he was no more, because God took him away."
In a litany of births and deaths recounted in that chapter, the refreshing significance of Enoch was that he didn't exactly die...he was no more, taken away by God. We presume it was because he was so faithful in his walk with God, that even God could not bear to see him die.
Now that's significance!

#3 Significance- the paper is due soon. Answer now, or I am moving on to some other second rate great artist wannabe.

"Ok, I am significant in that I am the world's foremost iPod artist. I draw at least one picture a day on my iPod, and have over 700 iPod masterpieces. I feel very confident no other artist can make this claim."

Oh, how I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Rachel's teacher reads her paper. Her teacher probably won't understand that my significance has nothing to do with my talent or my style or my medium. My significance was that a little girl who loved to draw lived nearby and came to my art classes. I loved her and I loved art, and a little of my passion must have spilled over into her heart. And perhaps that is as significant as I will ever be to anyone, but for today, it has made me glow with deep satisfaction.

Genesis 5:
 ²¹ When Enoch had lived 65 years, he became the father of Methuselah. ²² After he became the father of Methuselah, Enoch walked faithfully with God 300 years and had other sons and daughters. ²³ Altogether, Enoch lived a total of 365 years. ²⁴ Enoch walked faithfully with God; then he was no more, because God took him away.

Untying the tether

When I got home from the glorious wedding, the least favorite part of any journey awaited. The unpacking. I hate the unpacking so much that I am almost willing to just throw all the unpacked suitcases in the trash and begin the needed decluttering of our home. But instead, I began the rather depressing task of putting away the 95% clean items I packed and never needed, and the 5% that had to go in the wash which were all I needed to pack in the first place. As this always happens, you would think I'd learn, but no, "Be prepared" is one of my guiding principles and I pack accordingly. I thought of how my son, Matt and Karissa were now off to the honeymoon, to a new life, and I had to try to not interfere, ever. I wasn't even their Facebook friends, though I asked them a few weeks ago if I could be. They never answered. It is fine, I thought, it is the lot of mothers.

As I unpacked, I reflected on some of the highlights of the week. One of the unexpected joys had been towing my niece Caroline in a kayak.  At age 5, she was too young to paddle a kayak alone and I had no tandem kayaks. She watched the others from shore as we left on our kayak jaunts on Smith Mountain Lake, and told me one morning as she walked with me, "I'd like to go in a boat."  I realized that perhaps I could tow her in a kayak tied to mine, at least a little ways. I gave her a paddle and some lessons, and off we went. As it turned out, it was not nearly as hard as I thought it would be and Caroline became my faithful kayak buddy the whole week. We were able to kayak far and long. I gave her a duck caller we keep stashed with the kayak wet bags, and she would happily honk at geese as we chased them across the lake. Sometimes she would paddle. Often she would rest. On our last day of kayaking, she told me she was tired, and at first didn't think she would accompany me. Then, she changed her mind, and at the last moment, decided she would go. She never dipped her paddle in the lake. Instead she lay down in the kayak and I towed her around the lake while she rested her head on one arm and trailed the other in the water.

It is such a picture of motherhood. There is a season when the mother is putting forth all the effort. Saying all the words the child will one day utter, modeling all the behavior the child will someday adopt, guiding in all the life skills the child will one day need. At first, the child just lays back and watches. One day she will take a paddle and occasionally offer an independent stroke of the oar. Ultimately she will captain the kayak alone. That is the day the mother unties the tether, and watches prayerfully as the child paddles to the horizon, the sun casting rays of gold and sparkle across her shoulders.

I finished unpacking, tired and a little dispirited. You know how it is after the rush of adrenalin and joy at momentous events. I went to the computer to begin downloading the hundreds of photos I had taken. As the screen lit up, there was a message from Facebook. Matthias and Karissa Kaseorg had just accepted my request to be their friend on Facebook. They had done so early the morning after the marriage. They had taken the time and effort and thought to grant me this gift of love and acceptance on the break of their first full day of married life together.

Sometimes as children first paddle to the horizon, they wave an oar in the distance, and the mother waves back.

Genesis 40:14

¹⁴ But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness

It is Well

As I pulled up to the Senior Home in the van, our two elderly friends sat side by side holding hands on the porch bench. Evelyn wore a dazzling blazer with pants that picked up the  subtle rose tones of the jacket. She had sparkling silver shoes, and her make up and hair were perfect. Comer wore a suit, with shined shoes, and neatly combed hair.
"All dressed up to go for a ride in the car?" said Asherel to me later, incredulous. As you may recall, I had to hogtie her and threaten no dinner for the rest of her life if she did not dress nicely for church on Easter.
"And balancing fast food on their lap at that," I added, "But remember Asherel, this is the highlight of their week. This is their date every week."
I drive them around and get fast food to eat in the car because they are both so frail and have trouble walking. My preference would be much more exciting adventures but there is not much more they can do. They always tell me "no" when I ask if they want to get out of the car and go walk to the lovely bench on the lake shores we visit.
However, that poignant image of them all gussied up, holding hands with big expectant smiles on their faces as I drove up stuck to my conscience like flypaper.
We found a beautiful hidden lake and a gorgeous neighborhood where the rich hide out. I also got lost in the country, and we passed broken down trailers and pre-fab homes with rusted cars dotting the front yard.
"I'm showing you how the po' folk live," I called back to them.
"I know how the po' folk live , " said Comer.
"How's the banana shake? Is it good?" I asked Evelyn, hoping it wasn't spilling on her beautiful outfit.
"The banana shake is good," she answered, in between humming with the old 50's music playing on the CD.
"Music, banana shakes..... all we need is candlelight!" I said.
"Yes," she laughed, "candlelight...."
"How's the chicken , Comer?"
"Oh it was fine!"
"But what you really want is a steak, right?"
"Oh that would be a treat!"

As I helped them out of the car, I held Evelyn's hands and said, "I think we need to get Comer a steak next time. He is a meat man."
"He is," she laughed, "He sure is a meat man."
"Comer, do you think you and Evelyn could walk to the back of a restaurant along the water? We could eat at that steak place on Lake Wylie next time if you would like."
"Oh, I think we could!" he said happily, brushing chicken sandwich crumbs off his fine suit.
"How does that sound Evelyn, eating while sitting outside watching the ducks float by?"
"That sounds.....," she struggled to come up with the word on her own, ".....good!"

Jim, my brother in law, texted me from the hospital this morning.
"Amy's blood work is normal! She can start on a liquid diet today! She walked in the hallway with me...it is so nice to hear her talk again."


My boy Matt called today. From the depths of despair with no first year law school internships knocking at his door and a marriage in July that he hoped to have some sort of income to support....he got two job offers last night! Both good, both wonderful experience, both fantastic well-paid opportunities, and he can do both. He accepted both of them.
"So I will need you for one favor, Mom.... I'll need you to drive my car down to Florida cause Karissa and I will be flying straight from the honeymoon to Florida. How does that sound?"

"That sounds.....," I struggled to find the word to express what was overflowing from my heart, "....good."

Psalm 34:8

 ⁸ Taste and see that the LORD is good;
   blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.

Waiting

As I sat in the car waiting for Asherel, I started to add up the hours I have sat in the car waiting for my kids over the years. I am pretty sure I could not calculate them all without the use of logarithms, and since I am still a little shaky on my logarithm skill, suffice it to say, it adds up to at least half my life. Back in the days when I would wait for Anders, I would watch Matthias and Asherel climb on the modern art at UNCC. Then while waiting for Matthias once Anders was off on his own, I would walk with Asherel and point out all the bugs and other small creatures we could find. When Matt went off on his own, and I wait now for Asherel, I bring my iPod and sketch, memorializing these days. It will be just a turn of the page, and I will have no one left to wait for.

So I spend time now as I sit in the car looking at the world around me and fill the pockets of my soul with the beautiful blessings of God's creation. Yesterday I sketched the clouds, and realized most of the summer there were no clouds in NC. Just wide open blue sky. There is always something to draw. Always something left to wonder about, to love, to explore, to honor.

It doesn't feel like waiting. It never really did. It always felt like joyful expectation of being reunited, with excited voices and flushed cheeks crashing down beside me and saying, "That was fun!".  Each of us had had our own adventures to recount- theirs often much more exciting than mine, but mine were maybe more precious in some ways. Their adventures were of dashing off into a world they didn't yet know that would carry them ultimately away for a time. Mine were of reconnecting with a world that had always been there, right under my feet and beside my hand, waiting to be caressed, waiting to be noticed.

Waiting is one of the supreme characteristics of God. He watches as we scurry about exploring all the new places we think we need to go to find abundant life. And He waits, knowing that the world is finite, as is our strength. Ultimately we plop down and look around, and if we are weary enough, finally look right at Him.
"That was fun," we say, as we crawl into His embrace,"Thanks for waiting."

Psalm 130:5-7 (New International Version)

 ⁵ I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
       and in his word I put my hope.
 ⁶ My soul waits for the Lord
       more than watchmen wait for the morning,
       more than watchmen wait for the morning.
 ⁷ O Israel, put your hope in the LORD,
       for with the LORD is unfailing love
       and with him is full redemption.

When Did This Happen?

I know I am not alone in looking at a neighbor's kid and saying, "When did you stop wearing diapers?" as they stand before you, 6 feet tall, with car keys in their hands.

Asherel and I were doing a fundraiser for her Global competition in DI next month going door to door selling car wash tickets. It was a fortuitous weekend to be doing so, as the yellow pollen that has laid a layer like paint on everything in the city has transformed every car to a yellow sneeze-inducing powder puff on wheels. The tickets sold within minutes. Some people who don't even own cars bought tickets so they could walk themselves through the wash and get out of the pollen, thick as mustard.

But the young lady who opened one door could not possibly be the toddler I remembered who was born around the same time as Asherel. What are these kids... kudzu? One minute they are babies and then the next thing you know they are looming over you big as trees.

Today is Anders birthday. He is my oldest and also the furthest away, in Boston. I remember as though it were yesterday carrying him in a front pack and taking long walks to the mall where we would share a cinnamon roll. Technically since he was too young to eat a cinnamon roll, he would share it vicariously, as would I. I remember details from his youth with surprising clarity, particularly surprising in light of the fact that I cannot remember what I ate for dinner last night, or the name of the capitol of most of my neighboring states....

And of course, I miss those days, and wish I could have them back. I want them back with some minor alterations. I want unlimited patience and energy, time that I could stretch or compact as necessary depending on how well the day was going, and the ability to see beyond the moment to the eternal perspective on where that moment was leading.

But I didn't have those things. So I did the best I could with the little I had. But for all you young mothers out there, I am going to give you an incomparable gift- a glimpse into that eternal perspective from someone who has lived half an eternity now. Everything adds up to create the person you send off to his life someday. Every smile, every frown, every encouraging or discouraging word.... all of it. So when you can, choose patience, choose encouragement, choose gentleness, choose forgiveness. All those things build a pile that becomes character. If I could do it all over again with all I know now, I would. But since I can't, I will trust that God has covered my deficiencies and pray that today my birthday boy will remember only the best we offered.

Job 4:4
Your words have supported those who stumbled; you have strengthened faltering knees.