Heaven

I got nothing


There are those days when I want so badly to write but nothing comes. Today was one. I started a whole blog post but felt as if I were digging into a place I didn’t want to have to dig out of. Mentally. It’s a beautiful Indian summer day. Can we still use that term? I used my fluffy blanket last night which makes me happy going to bed. Even if I have to throw them off during the night in a fit of clammy huffiness. Then I awoke with a feeling of the ground shifting (not an earthquake). It’s not quite fear, just uneasiness. I fished my phone out from under my pillow, pulled up You Tube, and found an Abide called, “Peaceful Night with God (Stories for Sleep) within about 15 minutes I was fast asleep. They don’t work for everyone, my friend tried it and she kept waiting for a story with a beginning, middle and end. They don’t do that, rather they meander around like some Jazz tunes do.

Anyway, I have felt uneasy the last few days, and I remember this morning that the second was the day my mom went to Heaven. The second was Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar; the Day of Atonement. Tradition holds that one’s fate for the coming year is sealed on Yom Kippur, which determines if their name is written in the Book of Life. That’s the really big most important book. This is how you can know you are there: https://bibletruths.org/is-your-name-written-in-the-lambs-book-of-life/

Yom Kippur commemorates the day when Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the 10 Commandments which God Himself wrote on with a finger of lightning. Of course, after praying and fasting, he came down and found that Israel had fashioned their own god (small g). They had got tired of waiting. Don’t be too judgmental, I can remember many times in my life when I got tired of waiting for answered prayer and I’m sure you can too. All I have to do is try to put my phone away for two hours and I realized just how close I come to worshiping something man-made.

Anyway, it’s a beautiful day. I’m going over to feed my aunt’s neighbors’ cats, then go to church and after that attend our local Fall Festival downtown. I asked God this morning in prayer if He would shift the insides to sunny instead of cloudy gloom and it seems like He’s done it. (Thank you God) The best thing we can do on any given day is to be thankful. Being thankful is the best way to Worship God. And don’t forget to thank God for your washer and dryer. Having to go to a Laundromat for 8 years is extremely humbling. Just now, a train blew through, and I thank God for that. I always pray that the conductor won’t have to worry about someone passed out on the tracks. (It’s happened many times) I remember how I missed trains in Arizona.

Well, so long for now. And have a blessed day.

Road Trip

A bus seen in San Diego

It’s gone…..and it was hard, and it was easy. Easy because it was time, hard because I know those times won’t be coming again. There are the memories though, lots of them. Those will be there forever, God willing, hidden and vibrant in the core of my being for a long time to come. I don’t have to work too hard to hear those sounds. Feel the excitement of getting ready, packing, shopping. I don’t know about you, but road trips usually mean getting treats you don’t usually allow yourself. For me, it’s Cherry Poptarts, only Cherry, no others will do. When I was a kid, it was Svenhardts packaged rolls and pancakes over the Coleman stove. Man, those were good. As long as I live, I will hear the noises of Lower Pines Campground waking up in Yosemite. The pounding of tent pegs echoing off those sheer granite cliffs. Stellars jays squawking from branch to branch. The promise of coffee which tasted of liquid gold as the finger of light crept over Sierra Point, warming the edge of the meadow.

Road trips are a special kind of magic because you never know what you might see on the road. We’ve rounded a bend on the Oregon coast to see a car overturned with a man standing outside of it scratching his head. A couch in the middle of the road. An elk the size of a small state just about to cross the road. A windshield wiper blowing off with a storm approaching. And you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a thunderstorm rolling across the desert. And all the anticipation of the arrival of your destination in the forefront of your mind.

Many years after the tent camping days of my childhood, the 2004 Fleetwood Flair was purchased. It was a brand-new era. It was more glamping than camping and it was wonderful. All the joy and freedom of camping out with a soft bed and as many shoes and boots as I wanted. Excuse me for a few minutes while I let my mind wander. How can you explain the freedom of hitting the road and finally reaching your destination? Waiting with bated breath as you find out where the camp host has parked you. And then, the setup, which was minimal in the Motorhome, that was the best part. As the camp chairs are finally dragged to the right spot you feel yourself exhale, knowing you’ll be here for a while. Cut off from the cares of jobs, responsibilities, and life. Freedom.

I guess you could say this life is one long road trip, full of good and bad, trial and error, mishaps, mistakes and then finally the times when you coast. Everything going right. You savor those times, and you enjoy the scenery. Maybe you even think about your destination. Not the immediate one, the final one. I think as we get older, we do more thinking along those lines, or maybe we try not to think about it at all. It’s there in the question that frames itself in conversations with others or thoughts before we drift off to sleep. But it’s there just the same.

Jesus had lots to say about our final destinations. Both of them. If you don’t believe in a final destination, you probably don’t think too much about it. As Christian believers, our faith, our life, is centered on the hope that only Jesus has the ticket for our final destination. But even more than a vain hope, it’s a knowledge based on His life, death and resurrection. He’s the One who paid our admission. The only One who can. So, know this:

Life is Good. But life with Jesus the life is everlasting. The most important Road Trip you will ever take.

“The Bus”

Beyond the Nails

Morning walk: My feet pounded a rhythm on the sidewalk and my mind at last freed itself from the usual bondage of useless thoughts. They come unbidden and unwelcome, springing from nowhere land, either from the murky depths of the past or from the distant future of worry land. I guess it’s normal, this overactive thinking. Writers have a term for it, it’s called “Monkey Mind.” It’s a Buddhist term describing a restless, unsettled, and easily distracted mind that jumps from thought to thought, similar to a monkey swinging from branch to branch. When you are sitting down to a creative task or even minding your business going about your day, these are the negative, deflating, harmful and useless thoughts that drive us to distraction.

For me, walking is a great way to quiet the “Monkey Mind.” I release my mind and start to observe things. Flowers, tree branches against the blue sky, Mothers wheeling strollers, people doing outdoor tasks. Much of the time I simply pray and thank God for everything under the sun. Today I was listening to “What a Beautiful Name it is” by Hillsong Worship. I started to sing along softly, and I got a vision of Jesus at the dawn of Creation. I thought of them, Father, Son and the Holy Spirit (they were all there) but it was Jesus I thought of. I love animals and nature, so I thought of Jesus creating something and then saying, “Just wait until Lori sees this!” It was so personal. I caught His excitement and then thought of all He had to go through, knowing how we would fail so miserably at obeying his One and only command in Eden.

And yet, they kept going and created it all for us. From the very beginning Jesus knew what we would do, and He knew what He would do to restore it all. And even now, as we observe the beauty around us, as wonderful as it is, we know it’s just a precursor of what’s to come. As Jesus called each star by name, I believe He was already looking ahead, beyond the Fall, beyond the Flood, beyond the Nails and the Cross, to the restoration and redemption of His creation.

Too often, we miss the thousand miracles that present themselves to our view every day because we are too worried about tomorrow or mulling over past mistakes. And too often we try to fix people instead of just loving them where they are. Only God can do the fixing anyway. Another thought while walking, that Church needs to be more like our favorite cafe where you are loved, and known, greeted (and maybe even hugged.) Church shouldn’t be a spectator sport, and I blame myself just as much as everyone else. Maybe it could be more like this:

“Hey friend, welcome in, find a spot wherever you want, either a booth or a table!

As I got closer to the end of my walk, I saw a woman by a church who had just unloaded a van full of kids and they were all spreading towels and blankets on the grass, having just gone swimming somewhere. They were all excited and happy, all talking at once, thrilled just to be in the moment.

Maybe I can practice that?

I should be in Church, but……

Yes, I should be in church but here I am at home. And sometimes it’s okay.

Shades still pulled against the half-light of dawn; I opened this little book that Mom had given me as I do from time to time. Sometimes it encourages me to read things she wrote. It helps to fill the gap she left. I miss the way back when of her, before others highjacked the person she was. Alzheimer’s for one. The others shall remain nameless, and it no longer matters because those have already been cleared up having been swept away when she left this earth. When you get older as I am now, you tend to think of Heaven more. At least I do. Of course, I imagine how physically perfect it will all be but the part I long for the most is that there will be no dissention. No disagreements, no misunderstandings, no suspicion, no lack of trust, no sin.

After all, it was a lie that first tipped the world off its axis. And it’s more lies that have continued to wreak havoc on our world today. Four little words…….”Did God really say?” There are lots of things our first mother could have done at that point. The most obvious one to me is she could have simply turned to God. (He was readily available at that point) “Hey, God a little help here, this creature is causing me to doubt what you said!” Or maybe the kind of arrow prayer many of us use on a daily basis, “Help me, Lord!!!” She could have done what I do when I need a refresher on what God actually did say in a certain situation. After all, I second guess myself all the time on what I thought I heard.

But no. She believed the slick beauty of who was speaking and doubted the fact that God had her best intensions at heart. Don’t blame her though, I think most of us would have done the very same thing. Maybe not Enoch, since the Bible says he walked with God, so much so that he didn’t actually die, God just beamed Him up.

This Sunday morning, I echo Jesus words. “Let not your hearts be troubled, believe in God, believe also in me.” John 14:1

I came across a sermon from my old Pastor in Arizona which encouraged me greatly, maybe it will you as well. I am posting the You Tube link here.

Be of good cheer, keep on praying for the President because that is what God calls us to do. I earnestly hope these words reach someone that needs to hear them. We all need comfort and healing of different kinds and grace, always grace. So far, no bombs from Iran in this direction. The world is in distress, but we know the answer. It’s always Jesus. Getting to know Him is the one thing you will never regret.

I end with Paul’s salutation from the book of Galatians, which I love: “Grace and peace to you from God our father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age. ” Galatians 1:3,4.

Reaching


Oh Lord, lead me through Your Psalms as I try to sleep. 

Let me find that green pasture and still my mind like those restful waters, instead of the churning thoughts that crash and swirl preventing sleep. 

Restore my soul to what it once was, let me find that unreachable place that just hovers out of sight. Remind me Lord that when I feel lost I don’t have to search for the path of righteousness on my own. 

You have already provided the Path in Yourself. You are the ram caught in Abrahams thicket once for all. We have everything we need in You Lord. My cup runneth over with Your Spirit even though right now You lay so quietly in my soul. 

I know you are there. And maybe this is the lesson you want to teach me. To trust even when my plate is empty. To hope even when shadows of death blow around me. To know that we have the victory. 

The grave is nothing but an April fools joke for believers. 

Selah

To Hear You Breathe

I come in just about every morning and listen, listen. You don’t know it but I come in so I can hear you breathe. It makes me feel a peace inside, a calm assurance that you are here. Then, on the heels of that, I feel the sting and loss of what it would be like if you weren’t. Like a cavern it grows inside me from some dark place that remains hidden. It nips at my soul’s heels like a reminder of how fleeting it all is. This waking life. I feel the whole creation longing for redemption……release from the curse we’ve put on ourselves. 

Every blade, every leaf, every tree whispers it through the air. Animals and humans alike, desperate for food in a parched land, orphans aching for the mother they once knew. So much suffering. Everyone knows something has gone terribly wrong and everyone pitches in their two cents, wondering what the fix is. Because we are human, and we don’t give up so easily we use different and ingenious ways to patch up the gaping hole in our maimed creation.

We wait for the wrongs to be righted. Because we know they must. We see the heartache flashing across our screens, snapshots of someone else’s grief. Our minds scarcely have time to deal with what we just saw and then comes the next, worse than the first. We live in a world that breathes in life and death, and sometimes in the same moment.

You told me how you prayed for the chicks at the Farm store. That they would have a good life. Oh my gosh it makes me cry and think how wonderful you are. How blessed I am beyond measure to have you. How much easier life would be if everyone had a best friend to soften the blows of this life.

Each morning, I long for that quiet place where I can hear from God again. I seek it but can’t quite find it against the backdrop of noise. But there is this. When I open your Book, I am comforted once again. I open it and feel eternity, life, wholeness there. I cling to the hope and knowledge of its rightness, for in between its pages there is the breath of the Holy Spirit. I don’t even have to flip to the back, I know the ending.

No matter what happens in this life, God already completed the master stroke when He said, “IT is finished.” The “It” in this instance is everything. The whole long story from creation to the end of all things. 

Redemption for creation happened in one terrible magnificent instant, making all things new when He rose from the grave. Breaking chains of all kinds forever. The old dead oak standing in the field laughs and starts to bud, the cows run out of the gate to fresh grass, no more slaughterhouse for them. Thorns grow soft and bloom. No humans or animals wake with hunger pains ever again. We all eat kale, except Heaven’s kale will taste like nothing we’ve ever had before. No one kills or dies ever again. And contagious laughter will forever ring through the halls of Heaven.

And the little will chicks peep for joy. 

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” Revelation 21:3,4

Stages…….

As writers, we always want to make sense of things by organizing the chaotic jumble of thoughts that are swimming around in our heads/and or hearts. Getting those onto the page is a different story. In our fantasies the words flow freely. Most of the time this doesn’t happen. My Dad used to paint watercolor, and I think probably the creative process of that is somewhat similar. I am sure he had an idea in his mind of what the finished product would look like. What my mom would think was beautiful many times ended up with a big black “X” across it, tossed in the garbage. Ending up with something not sounding ridiculous and trite to our inner ears is somewhat of a miracle. But I digress…..

I needed to get away for at least a few days and we made arrangements to stay right on the beach in Monterey, near Cannery Row, the inspiration of many of John Steinbeck’s writings. Usually, I find my rhythm of peace right away on the ocean. This time it took a day. It concerned me, because I felt maybe I just wouldn’t get there at all. The second day it all changed. Thankfully. We had 4 wonderful days of great meals, walking for miles and blessedly cool weather with the sun breaking through the coastal fog most days. We went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium which was packed with families and kids jockeying for position at the viewing windows, but it’s massive enough we saw everything we wanted to see. Once again, I was overwhelmed with God’s imagination. I mean, just the jellyfish alone!

It was just what we both needed.

I continue to deal with the stages of grief at the loss of my brother. I am still kind of in the disbelieving phase of settling into this new reality of being the last of my original family left standing. It’s a strange new world. Part of navigating through grief is the self-evaluation of asking the questions: Did I love enough……Did I love at all…..Did I tell them I did…..When was the last time I told them I loved them……or hugged them? Why can’t I remember? Part of that is normal. Endless recriminations about what I did or didn’t do is not. I rest in the many years of memories we all shared together. And there are many.

As I was writing this, I remembered a snatch of a Bible verse: “Strengthen what remains.” And right on the heels of that was another thought: “Love who remains.” That I can do. And who remains is God, who is always present, and that also includes myself and the loved ones around me. And the lessons we can all relearn from loss, (mine or anyone else’s.)

Call more, stop by more, pay attention more, help more, hug more, love more. Even if you get rebuffed or rejected. In essence, love more like Jesus loved. I want to get to the end of my life with as few regrets as possible. That’s my goal anyway.

All this blather to say. I am moving forward, I am sifting through feelings and thoughts and memories and learning to adjust to this new reality. The best thing we can all do is the best we can. Live life. This morning was peace. It was picking the neighbors’ tomatoes, watering before the heat sets in, watching E. work on the boat, feeding the cats double just because they will be very hot outside today. Breathing in the miracle that is life. I close with this thought, in Heaven there are no regrets. And Revelation 21:4, He will wipe every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning or crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Book recommendations: One of the books I am reading right now is called Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxes. It’s not a book you sail through, (there are 20 pages of notes alone) but it’s very inspirational. (And historically accurate) A brilliant theologian, Bonhoeffer should be as well-known as Anne Frank, or Schindler but sadly, he’s not. He died in prison after being arrested by the Nazis for among other things, trying to rid the world of Hitler. Another I’m just about to start is The Collected Regrets of Clover. Jury is still out on that one.

I continue to feed my brother’s two feral cats. They come out from their hiding places immediately and are very grateful to get the food. I know he would be happy to see that.

Until next time, thank you for the therapy, dear readers if you are still with me. I hope you know that I pray for every one of you. Lori

When you lose a sibling

I have been grappling with the right words to write for weeks. It’s been exactly 60 days since I heard the panic-stricken voice over the phone say, “Lori, Ron is dead.” It was my brother’s friend Margaret who went to check on him after he stopped replying to our texts and calls. 

There are moments that split the timeline in a life and that phone call was yet another one.

Three family members in two years, gone. I still pause several times a day and hear the whisper, like a breeze flowing through my soul that tells me he’s not here. And how can that be?

Death, the Bible says, is a mystery. How can people in your life be here, breathing, walking, talking, making decisions (or not); then simply disappear with a wake of a life left behind. I find comfort in knowing he is in Heaven. I was there the day he made his declaration of faith, Easter Sunday 81 or 82 if my memory is correct. 

I remember thinking he looked gallant and humble that day. Handsome and tan in a white shirt walking down the aisle like a lone male bride. My Aunt and I were in the choir that day singing selections from “The Messiah.” 

Flash forward 40 or so years. And time, and time and time, like the Steve Miller band song says, “slips into the future” and my brother’s soul flew like an eagle to his Heavenly home. 

In childhood, I idolized him. He looked after me when we were small. On family trips we slept together in the back of the Volkswagen with the seats folded down. I remember that. Other things stand out. The time we made a pact not to bicker and fight anymore. (Didn’t last) and the Birthday party where he and a friend attached prizes behind the sheet draped clothesline so my friends and I could “fish for prizes.” 

In high school, he was the star athlete, the popular one. I was the quiet book nerd. In the ebb and flow of life, we drifted apart over the years but came together at different times, usually when crisis hit. 

I had utmost respect for him as a caregiver when his first wife got cancer. He never left her side, caring for her until she passed away. And at the worst time of my life when my husband died on our honeymoon he flew to Mexico and stayed until we could bring his body back. 

He has left behind a special needs daughter who will be 21 this December. My brother could always make her laugh with his silliness. She also shares his love and compassion for animals. I’m so thankful she has such a great Mom.

There are mountains of stuff and mountains of decisions to sort through and I am still in somewhat of a state of disbelief. I see a gray Ford truck coming down the street and I still think it might be him. 

I was the first to hug him, all our lives. He never made a move to hug me first. That just wasn’t his way. I wish I would have grabbed him and hugged him the last time I saw him. But I didn’t know. We never know. I also didn’t know how depressed and lonely he was ever since our parents died in 2021. I wish he would have let me in. I wish I would have been more sensitive. 

It sounds like a Hallmark cliche to say that we never know when it will be our last moments but it’s also true. If there is any value, any lesson I can learn (or relearn) from loss going forward it’s this: 

“Do what you can live with after they are gone.” That is the best advice and it’s what my bestie Elaine always did and said while she was caregiving for her parents. 

I miss my brother. I know he is at peace and I am getting there. I will close with a letter he wrote his first wife shortly before she died, and these are his words: 

Your grace and courage in passing from this life cause me to fear death no longer. And, as you said to me one time before you departed, “Ron, I won’t just be waiting for you to arrive in Heaven, I’ll be waving you in.”