Home

Home, where God is.

I was listening to the Gaither’s again this morning on the way to work. There is only one problem with that. When I like a song I speed up and that is not so good for driving. “We Shall Rise” was the only song I ever remember my old Pastor requesting we sing twice. I can still see his perfectly Brylcreamed hair as he turned to us in the choir as we stood once more to sing. We raised the roof that day. 

I was thinking about how certain kinds of music make you feel like home. Something in your soul finds rest in it. It stirs up memories, emotions. Nature makes me feel like home too, it’s like remembering our first home. Knowing that’s how it should be, hearing that wind sigh in the treetops.

Later at work as I settled myself in front of a computer, (on my break of course), I felt still another sense of home. I never realized just how much a part of my life this has become. This checking in with all of you, my online friends. It’s a bit like coming to your back kitchen door, and you getting out my favorite mug and pouring me a fresh brew. Exchanging news good and not so good, sharing laughter and tears as we reach across the table.

Fellowship. Community. Unity. Love. That’s the Kingdom of God.

I can already feel eternity lapping at my feet like waves. Some days it is easy to know that this world is just a precursor of Heaven. The joy of the Holy Spirit confirms it.

I think of what finally home means.

No more goodbyes, no more plane trips, no more endings, only beginnings…… forever. We will already be there. When I think about eternity it blows my mind. I can’t seem to come to grips with something that good lasting forever. I can’t help but think that something or someone will ruin it all.

But God’s promises are true, that we can count on. That’s the hope I bring you today.

I love you, friends. I really do.

“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 21:4

What makes a home

 
I never thought I would live in a “retirement” community. I had many preconceived notions, some of which were true. The high point of the day for some is getting the mail. When you walk at night the motion detector lights salute you all the way down the street. And if you leave the water running, there are always those who act as if they personally had to pay for that extra water running down the street.
 
And I complain because every time I want to use the treadmill someone has gotten to it first. I gave up and started running on the pavement, and that is probably why my back feels like it does now.
 
A plus side, if you could call it that, is that you are reminded of your mortality at least once a week when the firetruck or ambulance comes through. You learn who gets a regular visit….who is on oxygen, who is taking care of a terminally ill husband or wife.
 
You know Larry by the loud burst of song as he walks out the door to walk his dog Annie. Rosalee walks with sticks. And I hold the distinction of being the only “runner” in the park, though I use that term loosely. Now I am the crippled runner until I can find a spot on the treadmill.
 
There are plus sides to this life. Many times I don’t lock the door and I never lock the car. People watch your stuff. They let you know when someone has been there when your not at home. When I moved into this place, the motive was to get out of debt……..It is the best thing I ever did.
 
I had a beautiful custom home up in Payson, and I was in a very nice home before, and the two previously. But honestly, this manufactured home feels more like home than all the others.
 
Some people were downright upset at this decision. They thought we were “taking a step down.”
 
But I have felt closer to the Lord in this place than I have felt anywhere else. That is what makes me feel more at home here than any of those others. I am proud of what we’ve done to make it a place of warmth and invitation. A place that makes you want to stay awhile.
 
 
 
Home is where you feel at peace, wherever that is. Home tugs at your heart.
And if you don’t feel a warmth when you look through the windows at night? You are not home yet.
 
And for me, home always holds a bit of sorrow right along with the joy. The walls hold the good times but also the hard times. The times of sacrifice. But always, home is a refuge from the world outside. I never leave without carrying a bit of it with me.
 
And you see those stacks of wood I purposefully left against the side of the house? Those represent making a place even better than when you found it.
 
I think that makes God happy. After all, it’s what He is trying to do with me. And when I get to my permanent home? I will be much better off than when He found me.
 
I will finally be complete.
 
“……..being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

A Mama’s Prayers

See, I will bring them from the land of the north
    and gather them from the ends of the earth.
Among them will be the blind and the lame,
    expectant mothers and women in labor;
a great throng will return.
They will come with weeping;
    they will pray as I bring them back.
I will lead them beside streams of water
    on a level path where they will not stumble,
because I am Israel’s father,
    and Ephraim is my firstborn son.
 
Jeremiah 31:8,9
 
Ever feel like you’re in exile? I think we all do at some point in life. Maybe you are in a job you hate but you know you need to stay there until retirement. Maybe you are in school and you feel like that is exile. Maybe, God forbid, you are in jail or prison. Wherever or whatever that exile is, you are not where you want to be yet.
 
As I have been reading through Jeremiah, I have wanted to get to the “good part.” Israel rebelled as a nation, adopted other religious practices that went against everything God and everything He stands for, even going as far as sacrificing their own children on altars to foreign gods. It is painful to read, knowing what’s coming.
 
Knowing they will be exiled from their homeland, expelled, taken into captivity. Again.
 
And yet, when I read these words, I thought about Israel today. I think about all they have had to go through as a nation and how God was faithful to His word. None of the powerful nations that went against them are around anymore, and Israel is still standing as a nation, as a people.
 
Flash forward to my life right now. And my life up to this point. How like Israel I have been, ignoring God, thinking I knew best, thinking I didn’t need church, breaking my Mom and Dad’s heart when I decided to give up food. And yet……
 
God was so merciful. He never left me. He brought me out of exile, back home where I belong.
 
I am at a crossroads at work right now, and as I was praying this morning, I knew that I had to once again, give it up to the Lord. I am burned out. There is no spark left in this fire.
 
And yet in other parts of my life the fire is blazing.
 
And anytime someone invites me to write or says what I wrote helped them? I am saved a little bit more.
 
There was a time long ago. God brought it to me again as I was praying this morning, like a sweet balm to my soul. All at once I was back home in front of the fire with my Mom. Tears sprang to my eyes as I remembered how she would get up in the morning before I got ready for High School and start a fire. She and I would watch 700 Club together, just the two of us.
 
And she would take my hand in hers, voice trembling, and pray for me.
 
She knew High School was my exile. It was so hard for me in so many ways. My Dad would have prayed too, but he was in his own exile at that time. A job he hated. And yet God brought him out of that too. Because of his never taking sick leave, he was able to retire at 62. A free man.
 
And because of my Mama’s prayers, I graduated and was removed from my exile too. Through it all God taught me the lesson of faithfulness, and never giving up because someone else is believing in you. And that God is with me wherever I go. And He caused some good things to happen in those four years too.
 
I wrote a poem for my favorite teacher back then, my music teacher Wylie Moffat. Even then words were longing to break free in me. He had it framed and it hung in his house up until he died. And my words were used on the cover of his memorial service bulletin.
 
Today, I am thankful for fireside prayers. They are still working.
 
Thank you Mom, for being so faithful.
 

Remembering

“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.”  John Muir
I am missing the trailhead today…..I remember so vividly, the feel……the crunch of walking over the earth, scrambling over the rocks, the stab of the walking stick as each step measured, and the grand rhythm of it all. It is a constant ache in my soul that never goes away.
To get back there.
Some people say, I am a mountain person, or I am an ocean person. I am just a nature person, displaced into a town, a transplant. In some ways I think we all are, and forever trying to find our way back home.
We have this pattern we walk because we have to. And places we must go, and they are all good places, but we know it’s not the pattern God originally picked for us. Not this meaningless counting out of days we work, so we can be off.
And so we go the trailhead or the shore to remember the truth of how it is supposed to be, and how one day it will be again,  when He welcomes us back home for good.
I have been there, I have stood on the shore, and climbed to the top and felt the exhilaration of being Home. That place where we recapture our soul once more, let it find wings and fly home.
Click…….I can almost hear the missing piece snap back in place.
Even the trees and the waves whisper………Why have you waited so long?

“The grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never dried all at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls. ” John Muir

Home…….

Please enjoy this beautiful video and song by David Nevue…..the theme at church yesterday was “Homecoming,” and how God is always watching and waiting for us to come home to Him. Oh how He longs to welcome us with open arms, just as the father of that long lost son. I can just imagine how he went to that window every day and night, hoping to see a lone figure walking up the road, hoping that it was his lost son, and the joy when that day finally came…..Luke 15:11-32

And always, as you listen to this song, give a prayer of gratitude in your minds…..count the thanks along with me and Ann Voskamp, here……..



Coming and Going

“Love doesn’t hide. It stays and fights. It goes the distance, that’s why love is so strong. So it can carry you home.” Unknown

Somewhere in between longing and joy, regret and hardship, tears and laughter, there is a place we call home. When we go back we run into all that history, all those feelings, and in turn they run smack into everything that’s going on now. That’s why going home evokes so many powerful emotions for so many.

It’s the place and people you grew up with, the place you learned to sink or swim, or survive and thrive.

Somewhere in between the place we always seek to recreate and romanticize and the place we never want to see again lies that place we call home.

I go back to the place I spent all of my growing up years, so lots of memories come with it. The sorrows and the joys live there within its walls, along with those things that never seem to change.

The squeak in the porch step, the way the screen door sounds when it slams…….my Mom’s dryer that will never die, the one that never stops, all day long…….and that keeps spinning no matter if the door is open or not. I am convinced that God keeps all her appliances going.

And this time, the garage talked. The first time I heard it, it scared the daylights out of me. “Oh,” my Mom said, “Lauryn has a couple dolls out there that talk and it must be the motion that makes them go off.” I felt like I was in a horror movie where Chuckie the doll comes to life.

Everytime I go home I fry something. This time it was my Mom’s favorite hair dryer. I think it was going on its twentieth year. I looked up and the connection in the outlet was smoking. I caught it just in time.

My Mom constantly complains about not having enough electrical outlets, and it is a valid complaint. Back in the early sixties, they didn’t put outlets in every six feet, about two per bedroom was enough.

There was a new hood over the stove this time. I went to reach for something up in the cupboard and I almost needed a ladder. The new hood extended much further over the cupboard than the last one, but neither my Mom or Dad thought it was a problem when they bought it, they were just happy to have a new one.

The cat still loves to hang out in the sink. The first one liked it there, and so does the new one, amazingly enough!

My Mom still gives me the best of whatever she has. She insisted I have her new fan, not the one that rattles, and having body wash and lotion for me when I didn’t even think she heard me say I needed it. At eighty three she still seems to have everything everyone needs.

My Dad still says, “Everything is better when you’re here…..”

And when I close my eyes I still hear, “Watch me, Nori!” and it makes me happy but sad all at the same time.

My niece still has a problem saying her “L’s.” She was so thrilled that her Auntie was there with her, watching her swim. And she laughed and laughed at the video I made of her kitties getting into a tussle. Her favorite thing to do now is make videos of us when she thinks we aren’t watching and then laugh uproariously when we catch her at it.

I have found that going home teaches me lessons all over again. I learn things about myself and some of them don’t make me happy, yet I am thankful for them because without the realization, the change wouldn’t be possible.

Going home is made up of little hard and soft moments all strung out together.

I realized this, as Mom and I sat hand in hand watching Franklin Graham evangelize India. We each shed tears because how could you not, watching people who have nothing, suddenly gain everything? Part of mine were shed because everytime I am near them, I feel the weight of time pressing heavy.

We are a family in crisis mode, and aren’t we all? And sometimes, most times, I just don’t know to help.

One thing I do know to be true, the faith that has kept us together through so much still stands, will always stand. And always…..He keeps us.

And going home and coming home are both very good.

“The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.” Psalm 121:8

Why aren’t we working at our passion?

Make it your goal to live a quiet life, minding your own business and working with your hands, just as we instructed you before……1 Thessalonians 4:11

Maybe it is the line of work I am in, but everywhere I go I hear it, “If I won the lottery I would do such and such……” most of the time, they would not be doing what they are doing now. What they are doing now is putting in time, just like me. They work at something that is not their passion and yet due to economic reasons they can’t quit.

All over the world, there are hoards of us going to work already mentally exhausted. We want to get to the end of the week…..and why?  Because we are not working at something that gives us any true satisfaction. For that we have the weekend. We do the things we love on our days off.

Tomorrow, a co-worker and I will both return to work after being on vacation. I can speak for myself and I think for her as well when I say that we would both rather be somewhere else. We work in a highly competitive field, that of technology. The entire culture is built around being better, faster and cheaper than our competitors. And that ideology trickles down to us, the employees.

We feel we have lost our value. Our identity.

We can never be satisfied with what we were last year, last month, last week. That can really wreak havoc on your mental state. This is not to say that we don’t appreciate our jobs, we do. Each day I thank God for the job He has given me, and yet each day I ask myself,  how can I glorify God in my workplace when I am in the midst of burnout?

And why do so many work all their lives to retirement in jobs that they feel passionless about?

What is it about the American dream that is so alluring, so compelling, that we are willing to sacrifice what we love on its altar in order to get it? I have owned very beautiful homes, one of them in a pine forest on a custom lot with three stories reaching to the sky. But the truth is, this little two bedroom place has felt more like home.

I have learned to be content with less. I have grown close to the Lord here, it is a happy, peaceful place.

This week I will spend 48 hours of my life at work. It is 48 hours I will never get back. I think about all the people I have heard who have quit their day jobs and followed their passions. I remember the story of the big CEO who lost his job, went to work at Starbucks, found his life, and wrote a bestselling book about it.

By writing this post I am acting on my passion, but the challenge remains, how do I put that same passion into what I will be doing for 12 hours tomorrow?

Again I think, we were made for more than this.

We were made for abundant life…………….Jesus promised it.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full. John 10:10

Home Again

Sometimes the wellspring of thoughts and words dries up. The swirl of thoughts and words are there but they just wont settle and make any kind of sense. That’s when you wait…..and let a few pictures do the talking.
Going home is wonderful but so is coming home…..
I came home to a clean house and a clean car thanks to my dear friend who I know I don’t appreciate nearly enough…..thank you, Elaine.
Today I am enjoying a day off and trying to make the mental adjustment to go back to work.
It is hard trying to fit yourself back into something that feels so unnatural, something that’s not your passion. I haven’t yet figured out how to turn my work into passion, instead of just a means to an end.  
But God has given me this job so I know that somehow He will help me do it.
Just as He does every day.

Missing her……

I am missing her this morning….that’s my post today. This coming week she will be going to the beach with “Papa’s Mama” (my Mom) and “Papa” as she calls my Dad, and her Daddy. I heard how excited she sounded on the phone the other night. Sitting here at my desk at work, my heart squeezes and I am trying to keep tears from spilling, and failing. I know how she will shriek when she sees the ocean, just like I used to. She will be jumping up and down on one foot and I know my brother will not be moving nearly fast enough for her.

Wasn’t it only yesterday that she left the driveway in her car seat, shortly after she was born? That I collapsed in tears because I knew I wouldn’t be seeing her again for awhile? I saw all those moments I was going to miss. It’s preposterous, that her next Birthday she will be ten….and I shake my head in disbelief and how fast it all went.

Elaine was feeling much the same way last night……Her niece, and namesake, McKenna was in a school play. I saw and felt the pang of sadness in her voice and in her eyes as the pictures came through, knowing she wouldn’t be there to see her perform the part of Charlie Bucket’s mother onstage.

They are all so precious and time is flying by way too fast. Everything is monumental in their lives right now, every moment as big as eternity……I wish I could make a big bubble where we could all live close.

All those moments are magic, you know?

I feel unsettled this morning,  like the world is shifting a bit under my feet. The gravity of home was pulling me back. I even kept slowing down in the car, and for me that is unusual. I got to work and found they had moved my workstation. You would think I would be totally comfortable with change by now after being here 16 years.

Meanwhile, there is a little girl named Isabel still missing here in Arizona. She is only 6. I hope and pray she will have another Birthday,  yet after more than one week missing, I feel guilty in thinking there is little hope that she will…… that is a sorrow that I can’t even fathom. A bottomless grief.

Today I hold out hope along with her parents, that somewhere she is safe.

Please keep Isabel and her family in your prayers…..

When God writes a story……

We have a history, this girl and our family. It seems like forever ago that she came into our lives, and forever since I had seen her. Her folks lived right next door for a time, and my Mom having never met a stranger, got to know them. My Mom started to take care of Heather after her Mom went back to work…..She would arrive in the mornings like a little Anne Geddes baby, smelling as sweet as a rosebud. She grew into our hearts, this girl with the mischievous and independent spirit. She was part of our family.

When it came time for my wedding, I knew Heather just had to be in it.

When I look at this picture now, I see everything that came after for us both. But back then, it was as the Carpenter’s song said, a day of “white lace and promises.” Soon after, my brand new husband would be gone from this earth, leaving a chasm so deep I didn’t know how I would ever get over it. But God brought me through that. Brought us all through that.

As Heather got older, my Mom kept in touch…..saw her at the store every now and then. She went through that “all in black” stage when she hit her teens. Fell in with the wrong crowd as they say. We heard she was having some hard times, some struggles. And then she was lost to us. We heard snatches of things here and there from her Aunt, none of the news very good. Her Aunt would tell us to pray, so that is what we did.

Her Dad died, and after that it seemed we didn’t hear anything at all for a very long time. She was lost to us, and I am sure she would agree, lost to herself for those many years. My Mom worried and prayed, and I am sure her own Mom did too.

Mom persisted through the years, kept checking up, kept praying that some day the news would be good. And one day it was……It seemed that Heather had resurfaced. She had come out the other side of some hard times. She got away from some influences that were better left behind. She got a good job and kept it.

She was baptised into new life in the Puget Sound.

And what a joyous time it was, when she and Mom met again that first time after so long. She said, “I got my girl back….” I can only imagine the tears of joy that were shed that day. God closed a gap  for them on all those missing years.

I was thrilled at the news, and though I had contacted her on Facebook, I still hadn’t seen her in person.When I heard she was going to be in Phoenix, I knew there was no way I could let her go back home without seeing her, especially when I found out her Mom was with her.

And as I got ready, I was so nervous. I fussed about what to wear. I worried what she’d think of me now, no longer young, like she remembered me. And when did my teeth get so yellow? How blotchy my skin was. I critiqued myself before the mirror. Maybe we have nothing in common, I thought. Maybe she won’t even like me…….

As we waited in the lobby for her to come down, I paced. I chatted nervously with Elaine, who had last seen Heather the same time as me, around 1988 or 89. I saw her face change as she looked at something behind me, and suddenly I felt two hands covering my eyes, and a warm embrace from behind.

And all of a sudden, those years fell away, and so did all my worries. As I looked in her eyes, I saw love shining out. Our Heather was back.

We talked and laughed for 5 hours straight, the four of us. Her Mom and Elaine found they had some things in common, they compared notes on caretaking, since her husband is on the same medications as Elaine’s Mom for Dementia. I could see the stress, the weight of it in her eyes.

When we went to leave at the end of the night, Heather called me “Sis” and picked me up like I was the kid, I realized again, that family doesn’t neccesarily have to mean blood.

What it does mean is love unconditional no matter what. For better and for worse. 

Friends, family and prayer holds us over to the better parts of life. Life is a combo plate, no doubt about it. With its own mixture of happy and sad, sprinkled with tears of laughter and sorrow. When I looked at the four of us on Tuesday I saw everything we have gone through, all of us. I saw some strong women, and an even stronger God.

All these years I have carried a memory of a little girl, reading out loud from a book my Mom used to read to her as they sat close, about how God’s love will always find you. “Even if I sank deep, deep to the bottom of the ocean, Your love would find me.”  It did Heather, it did.

It found us all. When God weaves a story, the ending is always happy.

And didn’t she turn out beautifully? I am kicking myself ever since for not getting a photo of us together….but that is for next time, I guess.

A special thanks to my Mom who never gave up on bringing Heather back into our circle of life and to Heather’s Mom for inviting us back in.