The Promise

One piece of my heart was ripped away yesterday as Matthias and Karissa left , and another piece gets ripped off in a few hours as Anders flies away home. I hate goodbyes. I hate that my loved ones are scattered like stars across the universe. I just want them all near. It is one of my deepest desires, but one I can never have, except for brief interludes. Not until we gather in Heaven.

I know how the day will go. I will drop Anders at the airport and then weep violently as I drive home. Then I will walk in the house that instead of looking decorated, just looks dirty, remarkably cluttered and empty simultaneously. And I will put away Christmas, struggling not to keep crying.

Arvo, Asherel, and I went on a walk after Matt and Karissa left. Anders was resting and didn't want to go. When we returned and stepped onto the porch, we heard music. Glorious, beautiful, piano as only someone who understands and loves music from the depth of his soul can play it. We all stopped and listened.  It was a Chopin medley, and I recognized strains of the song, "I'm always Chasing Rainbows." We were afraid if we opened the door, it would stop.

"We can't just stand here in the cold," whispered Asherel.

Much as we hated to, we opened the door. We all crept in without speaking, and the music went on. I sat nearby, hoping he wouldn't notice we had arrived and that blessing, that gift from a creative God to a creative, but very private young man would continue. Anders played the piano, while the Christmas tree sparkled behind him. I don't know if he was purposefully offering a gift to me, but nonetheless it was a gift as he played for several minutes. I have missed the sound of the piano in our home. I would have stood in the cold a long time, had it been only me, so that the music wouldn't stop.

Jesus tells his grieving apostles that there will come a time when they will no longer see Him. They will be scattered, and for a time, feel utterly abandoned. They will also be abandoning Jesus to His fate, the crucifixion, which He must endure alone. But He reminds them that He is not alone, for His father is with Him, just as He is ultimately with all of us. Jesus reminds the broken hearted to take heart- in the end when we open the door, the music doesn't stop. That is when it begins.

John 16: 31-33
  ³¹ “Do you now believe?” Jesus replied. ³² “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.
   ³³ “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Thankful!

Thankful! My sister just found out her pancreatic cyst is fully drained on its own! Her pancreas is healthy and they do not expect any recurrence of the dangerous pancreatic attacks that had her in the hospital for almost a month off and on.
Thankful! My wonderful good friend Andi who has had a string of men unworthy of her just got engaged last night to one of the nicest people on earth.
Thankful! My son and new wife chose to spend Thanksgiving with us and took hours from studying law school finals to advise and design a new more professional cover for my book.
Thankful! I figured out all by myself how to pair my bluetooth keyboard with my replacement phone after nearly 5 hours of bashing my head against the wall.
Thankful! I am surrounded by God, husband, family, and friends who support and encourage and love me despite what a wretched person I can be.
Thankful! For the beauty of the sunset, the grandeur of creation, the affinity with all God's creatures (except of course snakes...but let's not get carried away)
Thankful! For a country where we are free to worship whomever we choose in any way we choose, educate our children at home if we so desire, live in peace and prosperity, and govern our own affairs with minimal intervention (for now...) .
Thankful for eyes that see, ears that hear, mouth that speaks, legs that walk, hands that reach out and can still grasp dreams or clasp in prayer.
Thankful for the atoning sacrifice of Jesus that saves me from the prison of my sin, and assures me that no matter how thankless my days ahead may feel, in the end, I will see God.
Happy Thanksgiving!

Isaiah 52:
⁹ Burst into songs of joy together,
   you ruins of Jerusalem,
for the LORD has comforted his people,
   he has redeemed Jerusalem.
¹⁰ The LORD will lay bare his holy arm
   in the sight of all the nations,
and all the ends of the earth will see
   the salvation of our God.

Shadow Lake

The swan is gone. The lake is just covered with Canada Geese and a few ducks...and probably lurking snapping turtles of the sort that attacked the poor swan. I walked along the little path at the edge of the lake. I saw an owl there a few days ago, peering at me with his great round eyes. I looked out over the lake. I had been calling it Swan Lake for months, though its real name is Shadow lake

"At least I went here almost every day to see the swans," I thought, "I felt like they would always be here, but still I came, because they were so beautiful. I enjoyed their presence as fully as I could while they were here. I'm glad of that, at least."

My dear friend, writing about missing her grown children said ," I never thought they might be living in a different state. But we did that to all our parents."

Another friend, reading the section of my book about the sadness of adult children growing distant lives, separate from me, told me she had to put the book down at that point. She has one child on the cusp of adulthood. She couldn't think about that, while the night in its dark forboding silence crept about her. Every parent of grown children feels the tormenting tug of time, I think. I thought of my sons in far away lands, and my parents, and sisters, and brother.

When the swans were still here, circling the lake, I loved to stand and watch them. There was almost never anyone else there. Why weren't the shores thronged with people wondering at the lovely white forms gliding so magically across the sparkling water? At first I would take lots of photographs. But then, I realized I couldn't capture what I felt watching the swans in a photograph. It was better to just stand there in silent awe and enjoy the ephemeral moment. Now, gazing at the still water, I thought that perhaps they had gone to a better place, a place where waters are still, and dangers no longer lurk below. Beauty and peace rest upon a New World.

So, I sighed, the swans are gone. Their beautiful S curved necks are just a shadow of a memory. I walked away wondering what I should turn my gaze upon now,  quickly, before it vanished too and entered the realm of Shadow.

Job 14: 1-2

 ¹ “Mortals, born of woman,
   are of few days and full of trouble.
² They spring up like flowers and wither away;
   like fleeting shadows, they do not endure.

James 1:16-18

 ¹⁶ Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. ¹⁷ Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. ¹⁸ He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.

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Melting to the Sea, but You Remain

"The code is 241," I whispered to the mother with the baby seat on her bike. The guard was not going to let her ride through the bike path gate without the code, and she was fumbling through her phone trying to find it. I was leaving the gate, where the code is written, to remind all the exclusive Sea Pine residents of the number sequence they would need to return. I see the point of gated communities, but something about it irks me to the core.

I had come by the code the way I always do. I ride up the beach, and when I have had enough of headwinds, I cut over to one of the paths that lead into Sea Pines from the beach. No code is required on the hundreds of beach access paths.

Yesterday, on the morning I came across the mother who couldn't remember the code, I had ridden all the way to the end of the island along the beach. It had been effortless biking, and I had been rewarded with a whole flotilla of dolphin just off shore. Then I headed back, and realized it had been effortless because I had had hurricane force tailwinds. I would never be able to return along the beach with the headwinds that were slowly removing my eyebrows and outer layer of skin.That's how I ended up on the Sea Pines bike paths.

And I was formulating my design plan for the sand sculpting that afternoon. It would be a surprise for Asherel.

When we got to the beach later that day, I had to race against the incoming tide. I had about two hours to build my creation before the tides engulfed it. I began shoveling piles of sand in the appropriate places.
"What are you making?" she asked.
"It's a surprise."
She watched for a few minutes as I began sculpting a nose on a submerged head. Then she glanced at the hourglass shaped pile of sand below the head.
"John Lennon playing guitar?"
The girl is good.

"Yes," I said, "And I have to hurry. The tide is coming in."
What kind of guitar?" She asked.
"His."
"Rickenbacker?"
"Sure."
"What year is this?"
"I don't know. The year he had long hair."
"The magical mystery tour album?"
"Sure. I need help on the guitar. I did the general shape but I don't know the details."
She went right to work, and left me to handle Lennon's face. Several people came with cameras and asked if they could take a picture.
"Of course," I said, "But it isn't nearly done. Do you even know who it is?"
"No."
"Come back in half an hour. You will."
"Do you want me to make his glasses out of reeds?" asked my husband, Arvo.
"Yes, please!"
The tide crept closer as all three of us worked on our assorted tasks. The photographers kept coming back, gazing a moment, and then returning to their chairs.

Asherel was carving detailed frets, pick ups, knobs and designs.
"Is that a Rickenbacker?" asked one man.
Arvo plopped the glasses on my nearly completed head.
"John Lennon!" cried the man.
Now a horde of photographers descended, and all agreed, the sand had become John Lennon. I drew a peace sign on his chest.
"Perfect!" said one man.

Within half an hour, the tide began to swirl around the Rickenbacker. Then John Lennon's hands began to melt into the sea.
"How sad," I said, "He is dying again."
"Nothing's gonna change my world," sang Arvo, as we remembered John Lennon's song and watched him slowly crumble away.

I had been humming that song all day. But I didn't agree with the message. Things change my world every day....every moment. A lost job, an alligator snout poking above the surface from a long ago history, a great blue heron with a neck gracefully curved, a word of encouragement, a stranger helping a stranger, a family building together in the sand, a God of mercy and grace who engineered a world of such exquisite beauty that sometimes I want nothing more than to melt into it with the glorious green blue tide.

Psalm 102:25-28 NIV

In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth,
and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you remain;
they will all wear out like a garment.
Like clothing you will change them
and they will be discarded. But you remain the same,
and your years will never end. The children of your servants will live in your presence;
their descendants will be established before you."

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The Day of Small Things

The little boy had been standing near, silently watching me as I labored in the sand. The sand dog was slowly taking form, more slowly than our usual family sculptures since certain unnamed members of the family were relaxing at the beach, rather than helping.

It was ok. The sand sculptures are my beach activity. I love being at the ocean, but not of the ocean. There are too many biting, stinging, sliming, and frightening creatures in the ocean to make swimming a relaxing experience for me. It would not be a vacation then...it would be more like paramilitary training camp.

So I was making my sand sculpture, happily safe from the sharks, jellyfish, blowfish, sea urchins, and genetically altered poisonous sponges. The little boy had wandered over and not even said Hi. He just watched me with big brown eyes. It became clear if there was to be any interaction, I would have to initiate it.
"Hi, do you like to build sand things?"
He nodded.
"Can tell what this is?"
"A dog."
"Yep."
More silence. As I patted the sand carefully on the dog's head, he followed me and leaned in, watching me with a serious scowl. I moved to the front paw, and he moved with me. As I crouched near, he crouched near, behind me, peering under my arm as the sand dog took shape.
"Do you want to build a sand creature?"
"It looks hard," he said.
"It's not. I'll teach you. Come over here."
We walked a few feet from my dog."
"Ok, first what do you want to build? Choose something simple, like a clam shell."
He looked at me, his face blank.
"How about a crab? They're pretty easy."
He nodded.
"Ok, first you draw an outline on the sand."
I used my sand shovel and drew the outline of a crab. He watched with furowed brow, and nodded.
I wondered where the child's mother was, and why she was letting him talk with a stranger.
"Then you dig a trench outside the outline like this and pile the sand on the shape. Later you will patt that sand smooth and in shape like you saw me do with the dog. Do you have a sand shovel?"
He nodded, looking at the crab.
I went back to work on my dog and he stood still. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mother appear with two shovels.
"Would you like me to help you build an animal?"she asked.
He nodded smiling and they hurried over to their own space of sand several yards away.

I'd been reading with Asherel about missionaries who had gone to Africa risking their lives and heads bringing the gospel to cannibals. I have never felt called to leave my own country. But I do pray every time I leave the house that God would open my eyes to the world of suffering, loneliness, and need around me and that perhaps, I could be a blessing to someone.

It seems that God has not gifted me with an ability to do large things, to do great things. But He has taught me never to despise the day of small things.

I carved the name of my book in the sand by my sculpture and wrote also, "available at amazon.com" in careful sand script. You just never know what might be used of God, I thought, glancing at the mother and boy busily building a creature in the sand together.

Zechariah 4:10 NIV

"Who dares despise the day of small things, since the seven eyes of the Lord that range throughout the earth will rejoice when they see the chosen capstone in the hand of Zerubbabel?"

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Seeking him with heart and soul

This year, our family beach trip is missing the sons. The oldest, Anders,is busy working for a new company, and the middle son,Matt, was heading back up north from his law internship in Florida. On the very same day we were heading to Hilton Head, travelling south, Matt was returning to his new bride, and law school, travelling north.

It occured to us that we would likely be intersecting in the universe right around lunch time. Through the miracles of cellphones, GPS, and UrbanSpoon Restaurant finder, we met at the only point in our respective trips that for a moment, would collide. We had a wonderful lunch with a wonderful young man that we cherish more and more as he grows into such a fine adult.

It amazed me that with all the infinite coordinates of space, we were fortunate enough to have engineered this meeting. We hadn't seen him for 6 weeks, and it could be another long stretch before we see him again. We recognize and honor the fact that his new wife has first dibs on him. So it was particularly wonderful to overcome time and chance and have the cosmic alignment cooperate. So often, people pass each other like ships in the night.

And it reminded me again that relationships must be intentional. If too much is left to spontaneity and chance, or even inspiration, they slowly die. It is true of human relationships, and it is true of our relationship with God. Sometimes meeting others half way is the hardest thing we are called upon to do. It is much easier to drive right on past, our own routes and goals clearly mapped out. It is easier not to find time to read the Bible, to Pray, or to sit in quiet,regular communion with the Father of all relationships.

"That was really nice," sighed Arvo, as we continued our journey southward and Matt headed on northward.
"It was," I agreed happily,"He is such a wonderful young man."

Deuteronomy 4:28-31 NIV

There you will worship man-made gods of wood and stone, which cannot see or hear or eat or smell. But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul. When you are in distress and all these things have happened to you, then in later days you will return to the Lord your God and obey him. For the Lord your God is a merciful God; he will not abandon or destroy you or forget the covenant with your ancestors, which he confirmed to them by oath.

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Good news and Bad news

Today's headline in our local paper was not encouraging to a family like ours, with the husband in finance laid off and looking for work- Bank of America to cut 3500 jobs!
Oh goody. Now the glut of jobs in finance that numbered about 0 last week will be negative 3500. The good news is, God specializes in impossible odds. The bad news is I was already a little worried.
Fortunately, our yearly beach vacation is locked in, and already paid for. We can run away and hide our heads in the sand for a week...in deep, white Hilton Head sand. Dog sitters are lined up, neighbors watching the house, car packed.... we run away tomorrow.

Fourteen years ago, we went to a free weekend on Hilton Head, with a little catch. We had to listen to a Time Share sales pitch. We thought it was worth a free weekend at the beach. The problem is, they were very convincing, and the weekend ended up being far from free. We bought the timeshare. This was so out of character for my conservative, frugal, careful husband that my sister, Holly , told me the timeshare buy was more of a shock than my news that at age 40, after 9 years of thinking babies were no longer in our future, I was pregnant.

But, for the past fourteen years, our family has had a guaranteed, glorious week at the beach, at a 3 bedroom palace. Back then, I had no idea that kids really did grow up and move away, and develop a life that was separate from Mommy and Daddy. They were always there, and it just seemed they always would be.

Of course, that is not how it works. Sadly, I know that now. But one of the most wonderful things we did together every year, as a family, was spend that week with each other on the beach. Financially, I am pretty sure it was not the smartest move we ever made. But in other ways, it gave our lives a common memory of joy that I hope will shore us up when times are not so merry, or when we are scattered far afield. We would have always found reasons why we should not have spent the money for such a wonderful vacation. Instead, we knew that no matter what else was going on in the world, we would have that week together watching the sun set over the ocean, the dolphin leap in the early morning surf, and the warm sand tickle our toes as we constructed giant sand sculptures together.

3500 jobs cut. I threw the paper aside. I have packing to do, and sometimes it is best to snatch joy while you can. It is the gift of God, and should not be disdained.

Ecclesiastes 8: 15
¹⁵ So I commend the enjoyment of life, because there is nothing better for a person under the sun than to eat and drink and be glad. Then joy will accompany them in their toil all the days of the life God has given them under the sun.

Hearing without sound

Well, ok, if we are going to the State Science Olympiad contest, I suppose it behooves me to try to figure out how we could make our trebuchet fling further. The trebuchet issue is like a tree- the trunk is solid but there are millions of limbs of variables that sway and flex and absorb energy. We have to find every one of those, and make it energy efficient. To that end, our partner's family called Asherel and me over last night. We live nearby. They had piled the treb in their car after the competition Saturday, and so it was currently at their house.

"We have a neighbor who is a genius type looking at the treb. Can you and Asherel come right away?"
We walked over to see a whole crowd of people in the driveway surrounding our treb. It takes a village to build a trebuchet.....

One of the neighbor kids standing with his chin in his hand, listening with complete absorption clearly had some sort of physical disability. He didn't say much, but his eyes bored into my face as I spoke and gave my analysis of what I thought was going wrong. Soon all 6 adults and 6 kids were waving arms, pointing, jabbing, suggesting, groaning, crouching, peering at it at different angles. I was making my case for chopping off the front end of the treb, but no one was listening as they were busy analyzing how to make the tracks for the wheels more efficient, when suddenly the young man with the disability leaned in, put his weight heavily on the treb, and began making sounds. My yearlong rule to the kids has been ,"Don't lean on the trebuchet!!! If any of the components buckle or bend, it throws off our data and we have to rebuild!"

But Josh's mom quickly said, "Josh, tell him in sign language to not lean on it."
Oh, I realized, I should have known. He's deaf!
"You know sign language?" I asked Josh, who continues to surprise me, as does this whole delightful family God plopped me in the presence of.
"We know our version of sign language," said his brother Alex.
They motioned to the boy, who backed off but then earnestly made chopping motions and pointed vigorously at me and at the treb. He understood me and agreed. Chop off the front and bring the dropping pivot point forward. I was totally with him on this, and wondered how he had understood this concept and why it was such a good idea. However, in the end, we decided it would be too much work to do that for now. We would alter easier limbs of our tree of problems first, and if the treb still wasn't flinging far, we would go to that rather drastic plan.

We all looked at our watches. 7:30!  We had spent two hours throwing out creative ideas about how to save our treb....even forgetting about dinner. A neighborhood had gathered to help us. Even the dog and cat came over to look at it, and the toddler crouched and gazed at it from her perspective. It is funny that my favorite moments in this year long journey of Science Olympiad have nothing to do with science.

1 Thessalonians 5:11

¹¹ Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.

A Holy Whiteness

An epic snowfall is predicted for Christmas day. It hasn't snowed here on xmas in something like a million years and then only a trace. In fact, it is proposed that dinosaurs once roamed the hot southern swamps of NC but they all died when it snowed on Christmas. The scientists believe this was not due to their inability to adapt to the unexpected cold, but actually due to their marked inept skills at  cross country skiing.Many, if not most, having never taken a single lesson, crashed into trees and each other leading to mass extinction.

But I am not a dinosaur, and I love cross country skiing. My skis and boots are all lined up, waiting..... A full foot of snow is forecast. It will be years before the one snow plow in Charlotte removes all that snow!!!

The snow is expected to commence around the time that dear almost daughter in law Karissa is due to fly off to see her parents. Anders is due to fly out a few days later. With luck, the snow may keep both her and Anders stuck with us a few more days. This is of course selfish of me and I am ashamed that I would even think such a thing so close to the holiday where unselfish behavior is the whole premise of the day. But there you have it. There is nothing I love more on earth than my family. I want them near me, even if they are buried in computers and games, and the only sounds I ever hear from them are, "When is dinner?"  I understand why God went to so much trouble to entice us all to return Home to Him. No matter what we are or what we become, the Parent loves us so much that life feels incomplete without His childrens' beloved presence.

I think God is mostly incomprehensible.... but the one part of Him that I think I really get is in His role as Father, in His angst over his children's suffering, growth, and righteousness. In His desire to hold them near, but His willingness to let them go. In His hopes that by granting them the freedom to choose NOT Him, they will ultimately choose FOR Him. I totally get His grief when one wanders, and His eternal hope as He waits and waits and waits, that every single one of them would return to Him in the end.

So forgive me as I pray for snow, snow to blanket the city long enough to let me cling to my loved ones an extra day or two.  And snow that lets me glide along streets emptied of cars and silenced with a holy whiteness reminding me of a time when life was a little slower and family members didn't venture so far away.

Proverbs 17:6

 ⁶ Children’s children are a crown to the aged,
   and parents are the pride of their children.

Fill your jars and not a few

Even running the dishwasher daily, we run out of cups, at least those suitable for adults. We still have reserves of Barney and Mickey Mouse plastic sippy cups. I don't know how my mother managed, especially at holidays having to shop, prepare, and clean up after 7 people. I am not complaining- I wouldn't trade this week of family here for all the clean cups in China, but it is a daunting job mothering a crew this size.

And then there are all the very different personalities with all their particular quirks to try to blend and keep happy together. They are as unique in their make up as different species....and we know zookeepers put bars up between different species. Nonetheless, the group seems happy, mostly because I throw them steaks and bourbon balls and fudge, I think.

But every morning while they are all still snoring in their caves, I unload the dishwasher full of cups to replenish the supply. And I gather cups left behind from the night before, most empty but some with remnants of hot cocoa, hot cider, or bizarre concoctions Matt is famous for. Cups. The Bible has alot to say about cups, and filling them.

When Elisha, the prophet was alive, Israel was in dire straits. There were hungry widows everywhere he turned. I love how he responded to one widow's cries for help when she was out of money and food and the creditors were about to drag her sons away as slaves.

He tells her to gather empty cups. She only has one. (I can relate as last night we didn't even have one). So Elisha, whose name FYI means saved, tells her to go get all the neighbors' jars and gather as many empty ones as she can. Now this seems a strange way to occupy your time when the creditors are on their way, but she obeys. When she returns with all the empty cups, Elisha tells her that now she is ready to invite Vicky's family to dinner as she now has enough cups. Nah! Had you going there for a minute, didn't I? Actually he tells her now she can pour her last drop of oil into the empty cups, and miraculously it keeps pouring until every cup is full. She can now sell the oil and save her sons. All because of empty cups gathered to be filled.

I didn't understand that story at first. I knew the superficial message, that if we obey God and His messengers, things tend not to result in being turned into pillars of salt...but the metaphor of the empty cup had not quite percolated into my awareness. Now I think I understand it a little more, at least from a different persprctive,the perspective of the cup.

I think we are all empty cups, waiting to be filled by God. We can be filled far beyond what is possible when we are gathered by the hand of God and His Messengers. Without Him, we remain scattered, and empty. With Him, even empty cups can save others from bondage.

Kind of makes me look at empty cups with new respect.

2 Kings 4:1-7 NIV

The wife of a man from the company of the prophets cried out to Elisha, "Your servant my husband is dead, and you know that he revered the Lord. But now his creditor is coming to take my two boys as his slaves." Elisha replied to her, "How can I help you? Tell me, what do you have in your house?"
"Your servant has nothing there at all," she said, "except a small jar of olive oil." Elisha said, "Go around and ask all your neighbors for empty jars. Don't ask for just a few. Then go inside and shut the door behind you and your sons. Pour oil into all the jars, and as each is filled, put it to one side." She left him and shut the door behind her and her sons. They brought the jars to her and she kept pouring. When all the jars were full, she said to her son, "Bring me another one."
But he replied, "There is not a jar left." Then the oil stopped flowing. She went and told the man of God, and he said, "Go, sell the oil and pay your debts. You and your sons can live on what is left."

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Hark the herald angels sing

Anders arrived last night and so the
full cotillion of precious progeny are now gathered. Now it will be fine if some picturesque snow begins to fall. I haven't had a white christmas in some 20 years. Sitting here with the dogs, waiting for snow to perfect the picture, the christmas tree is lit with beautifully wrapped gifts underneathe. The family is all still sleeping and I am alone with my thoughts.

I tried to remember my favorite christmas as a child, or my favorite gift. I could not immediately remember a single favorite. All I remember is a glow of anticipation, happiness, love, and excitement. The specific gifts or trees or whether it snowed or not all blur in my recollections. But I do remember feeling loved, and loving even my older sister who I usually tried to scratch the skin off of every other day of the year.

So the dogs and I are gathered in the stillness of the morning before the lit tree, watching the mist of hope and what could be rise gently.

Once, when I was a young woman, I was riding my bike down a long steep hill. The wind was rushing and swirling around me and if I turned my head just slightly, I could hear angels singing. I experimented various permuations of chin lift and head turn angle to see if the angels sang no matter what, but they did not. It was only if my head was turned at just the right angle that my ear would catch the angel's song.

Sitting here with my dogs, waiting for snow with my beloved family harmoniously snoring, if I cock my head at just the right angle, catching a glimpse of the little baby in my little creche, I hear the angels sing.

Psalm 104:33
I will sing to the lord all my life, I will sing praises to my God as long as I live.

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Is it real?

Even the tree was holding its breath in anticipation of the absent family members soon to arrive, to fill the holes in our hearts that they alone occupy. I was busily fussing to make everything clean and beautiful, though everyone knows that boys never notice such things.

Asherel was fulfilling a family tradition and lay sick on the couch with a cold coming on. I was always sick on christmas. She watched as I turned on the christmas lights and then placed battery operated tea light candles in the centerpiece, nestled into the real candle. To her horror, I turned it on.

"That Looks fake," she said.
"It Is fake," I told her.
"You Should just light the real candle."
"It doesn't stay lit,and besides,these fake candles won't burn down the house. "
I stepped back.
"From Far away it looks real."

She shrugged, not feeling well enough to argue.

But I paused to consider all the fake aspects of christmas - fake trees, fake garlands,fake reindeer, fake Santas....no wonder we often lose sight of what christmas is all about!

When the beloved ones bustled in, they didn't notice that the candles were fake. Noone was looking at candles real or otherwise. We were just happily holding close the dear ones we had missed so much.

Rummaging through old scrapbooks the week before, I had found a score of music my then 6 year old Anders had written. He had called it "Love is all you need." One line said,"big or small. Love is the greatest gift of all."

As I hugged my precious son and his exquisitely wonderful bride to be, I could not have agreed more with the sentiment of that line. And love is the one thing about christmas that should never be fake. As I snuffed out (eg- turned off the switch) of the fake candle, I glanced at the little clay creche Asherel had made me last christmas. Fake angels surrounded my little fake creche but somehow, it filled me with an emotion that felt suspiciously real, suspiciously like hope and faith, and unquenchable love.

2 Corinthians 9:15
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift

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Thanking God for the dishwasher

As I stood washing the sinkfull of dishes by hand while Asherel dried, I realized I had forgotten to thank God....ever.... for the dishwasher. But now it was too late. The dishwasher was dead.

As we washed the dishes, and the first real cold snap was settling its icy fingers around our city, I told Asherel how in the days before modern appliances and indoor plumbing, imagine what a typical evening was like.
"There was no time for Beatles Rock Band, I assure you...they had to carry a yoke of icy water either from a cold stream a mile away or a well if they were lucky, haul it home, heat it over the fire, wash the dishes...."
"What if the rags they had to dry them with were dirty?"
"Well of course they had to wash those first by hand also. And all their clothes, though of course they didn't have many clothes because they had to spin the wool to make the thread to make the cloth all by hand."

We went on in that vein, while washing the dishes, enumerating the harshness of life before Nintendo one thought after another. Strangely, I felt a camaraderie, and a peaceful joy standing in the kitchen with my daughter washing the dishes and recounting a time much more difficult than we had ever had to live.  We argued good naturedly about the most efficient way to dry the silverware, Asherel insisting it was better that she dry and I put away, and I insisting each person should dry and put away their own utensils.

"But they knew about the assembly line in the old days," she insisted, "And that each person does only one part and wastes less time."
"First of all, the assembly line came much later, and second of all, while what you say is true, with assembly line work, they also lost a great deal of satisfaction in their labor. I mean who can be proud of poking a hole in a widget a million times a day?"

Thus in one dishwashing session, we waltzed through a few centuries, from the frontier days, to the industrial revolution, and even onto musing about leisure time and its pitfalls and the value of pride in one's work. She probably learned more in that half hour than we had learned all day in "school".

When we put away the last dish, and she scurried off to her modern conveniences, I paused and felt something like peace in the pit of my stomach. And this morning I have remembered to thank God for the lack of a dishwasher....and for the coffee maker.

Jeremiah 6:16 (NIV)
This is what the Lord says: "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.

A Legacy to Covet

Yesterday morning I got an email that a friend's mom had died. In the inevitable pain and flurry of chaos and grief surrounding the death of a beloved soul, my dear friend had thought she'd emailed me earlier but had not. I shot back an email asking the time/place of the funeral. Asherel and I were in the midst of our school morning, and she had her dog walking job at noon. We had a couple of hours, though the funeral was an hour away.
"If we hurry, we can do this," I said, and we dashed off to walk dogs, eat lunch, and get dressed. Bless dear Karissa who had gone shopping with and talked Asherel into buying a lovely dress last week. She therefore actually had an appropriate dress to wear now.

As we headed to the funeral, I tried to prep Asherel who had never been to a funeral. I myself have been to very few. Maybe in fact, only two. I told her there really is nothing you can say that will help. The best thing you can do is just be there with them in their pain, and tell them how sorry you are. I told her about how when my good highschool friend's grandma had died, I had no idea what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just pretended it hadn't happened. My friend was understandably very hurt by that ignorant response.
"It will be sad and it will be hard," I told Asherel, "But it is very important that we are there, and that we hug our friends." (the granddaughter is one of Asherel's best friends, though since they moved an hour away, we see them rarely.)

I knew the grandmother. We called her Nana, like her family. Matt is good friends with one of the brilliant sons of the family, and we had traveled to math meets together for years. Nana always came along. She was unfailingly upbeat, and joyful, and smiling. She also was always knitting. She would knit little socks for premature babies. It was one of her little ministries to show God's love to a small part of His kingdom. Nana would often answer me, when I asked how she was doing, "As well as could be expected for 85....but God is good. I have my family all around me, and God loves me....what more do I need?" She said the same thing at age 86, and 87.... and so on til she died at age 91 Wednesday.(or just shy of 91... not certain of her age.)

Piece by piece, as the funeral progressed, the picture I had of Nana was embellished, beginning with her love of music. She had wanted her granddaughter, Asherel's beloved friend, to sing "Jesus Loves Me," at her funeral. So thin and grieving little Caroline stood before the full church, and with no musical accompaniment except her lovely voice, she sang those words that Nana had lived and believed for 91 years. It was then that I discovered I had packed no tissues in my purse.

Nana's last months had been bedridden, and wracked with pain and nausea. It had not been easy for her or the family. But her comfort was always that God was her friend and her family was near. It was all she wanted, and she recognized it was all she needed.

As I watched the family at the front, their arms all encircling each other, heads sometimes dipping to lie on the shoulder of the one next to them, I thought of what a tremendous legacy Nana had left. She had been a stalwart model of faith and love of God being poured out on others, and the immediate, palpable result was this family in front of me, holding each other up.
Her faith, simple and profound had been perfectly stated in the well known song "Jesus loves me, this I know" and poured over the people gathering to say goodbye.

It is the legacy I would want more than anything to leave in my wake. If God grants me 4o more years, I pray I could grow to be more like Nana.

John 15:10-11
Christ says, 'If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love,
just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. I
have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that
your joy may be complete.'

Matthew 25:23
²³"His master replied, 'Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master's happiness!'

Looking for Light

I was closing Asherel's door early this morning and glanced in the empty boy's room. Despite it being 6 years since Anders left and now Matt's been away to college for four, I always feel a momentary sob wanting to erupt when I walk in that room. My sister says I need medication, my boys feel I need a "life", and I feel a piece of my body is missing. It is not a pervasive, constant, or overwhelming grief.... it is just a little self-indulgent twinge. But this morning as I glanced in, I saw a little red light dancing in the air, near the curtains. It was like a little red Tinkerbell. I walked into the empty room. Mind you, I use the word "empty" as in empty of sons. It is hardly empty of "stuff" as it is currently housing 5 seven foot puppets. All those lifeless figures loomed in the darkness as I crept in, looking for the little light.

It must be some electronic device that was left on, I thought. So I gingerly tiptoed among the puppet giants searching. Hmmmm. Strange. Nothing plugged in over there.... no little red light. Perhaps it was something out the window, behind the blinds. I pull them aside to look out. Nothing there that might cause a little red light. The giant puppets all leer at me with their unseeing eyes and unfeeling hands. Lifeless mouths gape open, refusing to tell me the source of that light. Maybe it reflected off something in the hallway. I look at every wall, every corner. There is nothing that might have cast a little red light into their room.

So, I conclude, it must be God. This would drive my son nuts as he is brilliant and can't stand that anything I don't understand I instantly label God. Like gravity. I mean we all know what gravity feels like and everyone knows what you are talking about when you mention gravity....
but it is one of those things we feel so certain of, so basically convinced we understand.... and yet it is one of the baffling mysteries of the universe. Newton thought he understood and explained it perfectly while eating his apple pie, and then Einstein comes along with his theory of relativity and blows Newton's musings about gravity out of the water. But even Einstein couldn't explain some puzzling basics... like every other force on earth attracts and repels... why does gravity only attract? Of all the immensely powerful fundamental forces of the universe, gravity is inexplicably weak. And how did it become so fine tuned... if just a little weaker, or a little stronger, it would not exist! All life needs gravity to survive- just think of the rubber legged astronauts that have been in space very long and need to be carried off the spaceships. Quantum mechanics and relativity, the two best working theories we have so far seem to be at odds regarding gravity.

So I just conclude, Gravity is God. Now I am not saying that is all God is, but it is part of Him. The Bible supports me on this one.

"My own hand laid the foundations of the earth,
and my right hand spread out the heavens;
when I summon them,
they all stand up together." Isaiah 48:13

and Colossians 1:16-17
¹⁶For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. ¹⁷He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

Long before anyone had labeled or had a notion of gravity, or even of the gravitational forces of the universe, these simple Bible figures talked about how in God, the very universe holds together.

So back to that little red light in the boys' empty room. I think God was reminding me that it is not as empty as I feel. I think He was reminding me that He binds us all together, as He binds the universe together, and I may not see them but His hand is on them as solidly as it is on me and gravity never repels, it only pulls us closer....We all are being drawn back to Him.