Hope

Finally Home

Bless the Lord, O my soul and forget not all his benefits: who forgives all your iniquities, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from destruction, who crowns you with loving kindness and tender mercies……Psalm 103:2-4

The Rumba is working its way around the house, and I have two little kitties nearby. They have finally settled after wrestling and bouncing off the walls for the past 3 hours. One is sitting in the decorative bowl on the table and one right beside him. When we got them, they both fit! “They” are Atticus and Scout, respectively, and a constant source of joy, having been cat less since Briggs died in 2020. 

This is retirement, the first week in. Several times over the past few days, I have found myself in a state of wonder at how incredibly blessed I am, how at peace, how content. On my first walk around the park where our new (refurbished) home is situated I dug out my old iPod and selected the playlist I used to walk Desert Harbor in Arizona. It was like I was home, really home. 

Living in a very small space for the past 8 years really makes you appreciate the everyday things. A new washer and dryer that we almost worshipped the first few weeks. No more laundromat! Our own garbage can, for another. We never used the can at Aunt’s house because she was very fussy about her garbage. 

I’m home, I’m home, I’m home and I never have to move again. What a feeling……I can scarcely describe it. God is so good. At first, we kind of poo-pooed this park. It wasn’t as “perfect and pristine” as we liked. We had our eye on another in a neighboring town. It was well-kept and the space rent was lower. There were a few that came up for sale but inside repairs would have been costly. It just wasn’t meant to be.

Elaine wasn’t sold when we looked at this place, but I secretly thought “I could live here.” There was a kind of strange room off the living room. Back in the day it might have been called a “family room,” separating both sides of the house. Elaine turned in circles and exclaimed, “What is this room?” I am happy to say that it has become a beautiful library. (Pictures to follow in another post) Wayfair is our new best friend. Of course, you have to build whatever you buy and thankfully Elaine is very talented. I was the assistant handing tools and fetching screws and bolts.

First, we made an offer which they didn’t accept. Then it fell through twice more. We made another offer, with concessions and it was accepted. 

Here’s another strange thing. Over and over, I have had this dream for years of two big closets. I just go from one to the other with a sense of amazement in the dream. Well, yes, you guessed it. I have two walk-in closets. Thank you, Jesus! The second walk-in has become the litter box room and storage for Christmas.

Each day, I wake up so very, very thankful. Life is good on a Sunday morning in June. 

But I have trusted in your mercy; My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me. Psalm 13:5,6

Where there’s breath…..

“In the entire history of the universe, let alone in your own history, there has never been another day just like today, and there will never be another just like it again. Today is the point to which all your yesterdays have been leading since the hour of your birth. It is the point from which all your tomorrows will proceed until the hour of your death. If you were aware of how precious today is, you could hardly live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.”
— Frederick Buechner

Oh, how I miss this man’s words. His writing has been such a part of my life for so many years that it almost came as a shock that the biography was speaking of him in past tense. I had forgotten that he had died in 2022 at the age of 96. I have been enveloped in so many emotions since my brother’s death in April of this year and then both my parents before that in 2022, Buechner’s death slipped out of my consciousness. He had a way of capturing real life the way few writers can.

Lately, things have been better. Life is moving along the way it does, whether we are ready or not. And Christmas, (thank God) always comes. I don’t mean the Holiday and all the stuff, but the actual fact that is reality for us as Christian believers. That we have been redeemed. That God saw our sorry state and thought He needed to do something to bring us back from the brink. Bring us back to Him. We watched a movie last night, and it was really very sweet. It was about a group of British commuters on a train that saw each other every day but never really spoke to each other. One idealistic young man decided to announce that he wanted to throw a Christmas party for all the commuters (strangers really). Most thought he was crazy. The idea was slow to take off, and in the end, he was very discouraged and cancelled the party. But the miracle part of the story was when people actually started to talk and get to know one another.

Well, in true happy-ending Christmas movie magic, they all surprise him by luring him to his office and throwing the party anyway. It was a smashing success. One person on that train chose to take a risk and make a difference. It wasn’t easy but he was persistent. Until he wasn’t. It’s true of all of us. We give up on ourselves, we give up on each other. It seems the world is crazier than ever before. But one thing, well, one Person anyway, hasn’t changed. God still waits in the wings of our lives until we beckon Him in. What I always say is that:

Where there’s breath, there’s hope.

We don’t have to look far around here to see the hopelessness of humanity at every turn. The other day we were at the local post office and there was a woman wearing only a bra and skimpy leggings hugging the Christmas tree that was in the lobby. Everywhere we go we see encampments of desperation at every turn. The thought comes:

Christ came for a hopeless weary world such as this.

God didn’t wait until I cleaned up and made myself presentable to redeem me, He came when I was still a mess. A 13-year-old kid who nevertheless somehow knew that I needed saving. And I still do, every single day. We all do. I grasped my mom’s hand for strength back then, as I rose from the pew to walk the aisle down to the front to make my public declaration. Thankfully God doesn’t wait until we are good enough, because we never can be. He waits until we acknowledge our deep need to be redeemed of everything that is wrong within us that we are powerless to change.

And that’s the good news that is still good news to ALL the people. I love how the angels said to the Shepherds, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be for ALL people.” And all we have to do is believe it, embrace it, live it. And each day is another opportunity to start over. Yesterday might have been a disaster, but today is a new day. Chaos certainly reigns down here, but Christ came for this kind of world. And we can have His peace today.

Every year it seems like I miss the first two Advent Sundays and this year was no exception. I feel bad about it, but there it is. This has been a hard year. God knows my heart and he knows yours. He knows we are all just doing the best we can down here. Sometimes we just need to give ourselves a break. Slow down, breathe easy, especially this time of year. Things can be left undone, but people can’t.

Finally, Christmas means that we celebrate because there is always something worth celebrating. Even with all the conflicting evidence we see around us in the world today, our world was and is, redeemed once and for all. Starting with the Manger.

In His peace, Lori

Saving Cherie

This process of going through my brother’s belongings has been a long process and extremely difficult. After a few weeks of going through mountains of stuff, I discovered it would be an impossible task. It was with incredible feelings of relief and gratitude when my friend Teresa, along with her husband Hal graciously accepted the task of doing the estate sale. There were weeks of hard work and dump runs before the sale could even take place.

When our parents passed away my brother told me not to worry about the rest of their things. (I soon found out where they all ended up.) So that had to be gone through as well. Finally, it was the weekend of the sale.

I stayed away and let the experts handle it and handle it they did. Way beyond my expectations. We had agreed that what was left would be dumped or given away free. Ready to be taken out, amongst the box of my niece’s old dolls, I exclaimed to Elaine, “There’s my Cherie doll!” I had known she was there somewhere because I knew my mom had saved her for me. She was dirty and disheveled, her hair patchy and matted. The box was carried out along with all the other stuff with a “free” sign on it.

It was the next day, and I was in the shower getting ready for work. Grief can be irrational and sneaky and shows up at odd times. I thought of Cherie outside in that box and I remembered my long ago love for her. I remembered her two-piece blue outfit and her perfect short blonde hair and the words she said when I pulled her string. And I am crying all over again as I write this. And it makes no sense and yet it makes perfect sense. It’s kind of like when you lose someone you love and you are too busy to cry trying to be strong for everyone else, and then a year later your cat dies, and you are submerged in grief for weeks.

Elaine heard me crying and asked what was wrong. I said, “I’ve got to go get Cherie and I have to get to work!” Best friend that she is, she dragged herself out of bed and drove across town hoping and praying she’d still be there. And she was, on the very bottom of the box!

As I drove to work, I kept thinking about that little doll. And then I heard the Holy Spirit whisper six words……..“I have called you by name.” As tears rolled again, I thought of myself in the “free take it” box. And of the God who called me by name long ago and pulled dirty, disheveled forgotten me out of that box.

Isn’t that what God wants to do for every one of us if we will only let him? Isn’t the Christian life kind of like one long series of God reclaiming us when we’ve forgotten where we came from and who we truly belong to?

There was no question, saving Cherie was crucial. Saving her was about reclaiming a part of myself, a part of my life that seemed so innocent, so simple. Before all the adulting. Before all the misgivings, misunderstandings, and miscommunications that are all part of growing up and growing older. In remembering how I loved her; I remembered how God loves me still.

I received the text and a picture at work. Elaine had put Cherie next to her in the seatbelt and I had to laugh to myself. My day felt redeemed and so did I. That night Cherie got a bath, a new outfit and hat to hide the bad hair. It will always be a cherished memory now. Us at Walmart going through all the baby clothes and finding the right one. The Tutu was a must.

Someday soon she may on the “doll bench” in my aunt’s spare room, but for now, she has a place of honor in the driver’s seat of the motorhome. And if it’s a little crazy having a doll in here, so be it.

Life and grief can be extremely crazy at times.

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

365 Plus 1

“I just heard “She’s gone” in my sleep” 

“Mom passed on October 2nd, 2021, at 3:40 AM”

As I opened my iPad to write this post, these were the two statements I had recorded here 365 days ago yesterday. A whole year and millions of breaths since her soul passed into Heaven, taking a part of mine with it. I hadn’t remembered the day, but my sister-in-law did. For some odd reason I thought it was the 6th. 

Maybe somewhere inside I knew. I had chosen the morning to finally box up her photo albums and clothes she had saved of mine that I had in my car partly because I didn’t know where else to put them or maybe I just wasn’t quite ready to turn them loose. 

I’m still making a weekly pilgrimage to the cemetery to do the flowers and it’s weird because I never wanted or felt a need to do this with either Grandparents or even my husband. Then again, there are no rules in grieving and that’s okay. Even as I thoughtfully arrange my Hobby Lobby bouquet, I have to smile, because I can almost hear both of them say, “Give it a rest already……”

Life stops for some and keeps going for others. Inexplicably. This morning I came across a blog post someone else wrote that I had to share in the aftermath of hurricane Ivan, you can read it here. As I very well know, there are no guarantees we will get another day. That makes today the most important day. Inhale deeply, everyone! 

Don’t just walk, see things when you walk. If you are in good health, thank God. If you aren’t, thank Him even more that He is with you in it. He once walked this earth and felt all the things you are feeling right now. If you are feeling despised and rejected, remember He was too. 

I’ve been reading Ezekiel, talk about a crappy job assignment. None of us has the right to complain! Year after year, they didn’t listen to any of his warnings. I venture to say that none of our employers has ever had to lay on our left side for 390 days, and an additional 40 on our right (for the sin of Judah). And even when they finally did concede that he had been right all along in his prophecy, they still didn’t act on it. 

There is a message there for all of us. Basically, we Christians are all little Ezekiels. We know there is Something and Someone better after we leave this place we call home, but too often we remain silent and distracted by the world. Ezekiel warned and obeyed until it hurt. 

Sometimes I don’t know why or how I can keep a lid on my wonder at God and how good He is. But if these words can be a little leaking of hope and joy out into the world then there is redemption in that. 

I leave you with these words from Paul.

“Finally, brethren (sistren too), whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything is worthy of praise, dwell on these things.” Philippians 4:8

Do Words Still Matter?

What words could I add? 

In light of all the suffering going on in the world right now, what words could I possibly add that would make any difference at all? It’s a question that writers everywhere ask. The answer, thankfully, always comes back the same, and has throughout history. Words matter a great deal because the written (or spoken) word will always have tremendous power to change. Even if that change is a barely detectable shift in the heart or soul. And there will always be readers. In my formative years, there were no computers, no iPhones. We had each other. Real faces, real places. And the things we read in books. We had no choice but to use our imagination. 

Flash forward to 1996. I started work at Intel, Corp. For 20 years I worked alongside many others deep within the heartbeat of the technological age. Together, we built the chips that made it all go. I remember back then people said we would be living in a “paperless” world. And now, in 2022 we are drowning in more paper than ever before. And thankfully, bookstores have not become obsolete. Libraries are still being funded. All is not lost. 

When you look around at our current world situation, it would be easy to lose hope. Character seems scarce. Crime is off the charts. And yet, we honor a beloved Monarch who has passed into glory. We honor and pay tribute to Queen Elizabeth because she embodied great character and values not readily seen much anymore. She had the role thrust upon her in her youth, and instead of resenting it, she rose to the challenge and continued to do so for 70 years. Splendidly. 

Also as Americans, after 21 years we must pause, at least at some point in our waking moments today and remember 9/11. We all remember where we were that day. 

On a more personal note, we have just gone through a massive heat wave here in California and yesterday we were released at last and out from under the 100 plus temps for the first time in several days and weeks. For quite a few days we have been hotter than Arizona which is very rare. 

Just being able to take a walk without sweltering was like a miracle. There is something so redeeming in it. Getting out, off the phone, away from the barrage of voices that can so often cause unease and weariness of soul. Come away with Jesus on the mountain and pray. Even He, being God knew how important that was. 

And read. If you haven’t read Ray Bradbury’s “Dandelion Wine” I wholeheartedly recommend it. It will restore you to all things good, worthwhile, precious and true.  Most of all, read the Word that matters more than any others. His. Peace and Blessings, Lori

Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.

Psalm 119:105

Whispers

Mokelumne River: Lodi, California

It’s the day after we celebrated Independence Day as a nation. I took a walk, noticed things like you don’t notice in a car or even on a bike with the world flashing by. The reason I walk is not really for the exercise, but to be connected to our one humanity. To see people outside doing ordinary things. Puttering in their yards, digging up broken sprinklers, walking dogs. There is a wonder in that. E. followed me on the bike and due to tracker on these phones, caught up on California street where I paused. 

I went by 615 West Locust where Grandma and Grandpa C lived. That’s how they always signed our Birthday and Christmas cards. I think about who lives there now. They don’t know or care what went on there before. They don’t care about the rock collection behind the garage that I liked to rummage through, or Mabel the solid gray cat of theirs, or the ancient stove in the kitchen. That’s as it should be, the way of life, I guess. 

Walking along, I saw a kindred spirit taking photos of clouds, another cloud watcher, phone toward sky. 

Last night the bombs were bursting everywhere. Neighbor cats were in one of their secret places tucked away. This morning they were both at the door ready for breakfast. It’s a blessedly cool and quiet morning. The last few years, I find myself almost enjoying the day after a holiday more than the holiday itself. The next day holds no obligation, just presents itself in all its glory, unmarred, unmoored. 

I immediately walked down to the river because I had to capture this reflection in the water. On the path down, the wind held a whisper of fall. It happens sometimes in mid to late summer. I know there will be many days to swelter yet, but for now, I enjoyed the promise the universe had to offer. That another season will come. 

Nature always helps me say, “Wake up!” Makes me think that maybe we can put away all the petty stuff and maybe find some common denominator. I think that’s why God gave us babies, and cute animals and sometimes a scene that is so majestic and magnificent that it takes your breath. 

I pray today that maybe we all can find something to take our breath away. Just temporarily. Look to the left or right, maybe it’s the precious familiar person beside you. Maybe it’s just the sky. (And it’s never just sky.) Maybe it’s the promise that God said He will never leave us.

More than we need for our manna today.

Blessings, Lori

Miscellaneous

Lassoing thoughts, figuring out what to keep

What to release

The writing process, even the phrase 

Taunts. “As if,” my own voice echoes 

Mocks. 

If no one is there to read, is it still a story? 

Because some things are too beautiful 

Not to share. 

Summer will always be 

The cool of the garden hose held over our heads

And “Let’s make skeletons!” 

Plopping down to feel the warmth of the driveway

Getting up to compare imprints

Purple Koolaid when it was still innocent

Remnants of powder on the cold metal rim.

Summer deliciousness. 

The hope of a warped chime from two blocks away

Rushing inside to get a thin dime

Missiles and Dreamsicles

Stubbed toes and hard-baked plastic flipflops

(Called thongs in those days)

All innocence must be kept like a treasure. 

And not forgotten. 

Writers are the guardians of recorded time.

It’s morning, and it’s God’s day.

I sip coffee and it tastes like gratitude.

I recognize for the umpteenth time

this is a sacred moment.

I stoop over the keyboard, the cat having stolen my chair.

I grant her a moment too.

Just like God has granted me so many over the years.

And this is present day and I summon the past in the form of a real

book. I know there are plenty of people like me,

who shun electronic readers.

Who know that reading is a feast for the senses.

The feel….smell….sound…..of a page.

The look of a particular font

even the thickness of the paper, all conjured up to make it

an experience.

Even before the first word is read.

He is risen! (and so can we)

A motley crew. The rock band spelled it differently so I don’t think that will land me in copyright jail. It’s just really the perfect term for all of us. Jesus most trusted friends all scattered when He was arrested. Matthew 26:56 says: “Then all the disciples deserted Him and fled.” Each of us is gets to rise up this morning; we have another chance at life and a myriad of choices in one 12 hour day. 

Just getting up sometimes is hard, isn’t it? But we get to, today. And we will continue to have victories and failures, sometimes simultaneously. We will curse the driver in front of us and then apologize to God for our language and our anger flare ups. We will act like the disciples did when they gave up on Jesus. 

I went to place fresh flowers on Mom and Dad’s grave yesterday and I saw people laying on the ground next to their loved ones resting place. I saw Easter eggs scattered around graves, bottles of adult beverages (which always seems strange to me) and food. I saw sorrow. 

Then I thought of the words of the two Angels in Scripture here as described in Luke 24:

“While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; He is risen! Remember how He told you, while He was still with you in Galilee.” 

Why do we seek the living among the dead? It’s human nature, I guess. Why do we as a human race continue to choose things like war, addictions that wage war on our bodies and souls, death instead of life? 

But because of Jesus final victory over death, we too can rise to new life. PERMANENTLY. That is what makes Easter the most important event in human history. We have the victory because when Jesus rose from the grave He had the final word. Because of this, though our bodies may rest in the ground, our souls reside in eternal home with Jesus. 

Until the time God says enough is enough, and 1 Thessalonians 4:16 comes to pass, we rise. And because of Easter. We rise with hope! 

Letting Go

    It continues to feel strange, this new journey I’m on. In 2021, Dad passed on August 19, and then Mom passed 44 days later on October 2. At first, there was the flurry of activity involving the memorial for Dad, then we barely turned around and the same had to be done for Mom. We were taxed out emotionally and other ways too. We said our goodbyes with family and friends and things kind of leveled out. Then the house cleanup began…….(lots of buried emotions, plowing through and just getting it done.) 

    Now the house sale. More emotion. More tears at unexpected times. I recorded certain sounds on my phone that I will never hear again which I may keep or not down the road. The sound of the old door locking/unlocking, the funky doorbell that for 40 years has sounded the same, and the closet doors my Dad installed that have been off kilter (also for years). 

    But here is what I hear that can never be recorded except in my memory, and there they will stay. The sounds of hundreds of gatherings over the years. The October parties I used to plan with Mom, every backyard Birthday party with all the neighborhood “gaggle” of kids we played with. The fresh pot of coffee that was ever brewing for all kinds of friends and neighbors. Faces I still see so clearly: Mrs. Nystrom next door coming down the steps with a freshly made cake (from scratch of course). Mrs. Day from across the street with a loaf of something healthy and homemade. Ladies gathered around my Mom’s table, all strong women, each with their own heartaches and joys. I can see them, their faces aglow and the walls echoing their laughter. Praying hands in a circle. 

    So much love, so much grief, so much life. And now all is stripped bare, devoid of any life but flowing with memory. This little tract home was Mom and Dad’s pride and joy. It was the model home of the neighborhood complete with the ugliest rock wall anyone’s ever seen. My Mom used to curse those rocks because when she vacuumed, they would come loose. When my cousins came to say goodbye to the house, a couple of them wanted to take a pebble from the infamous wall. I told them, “Just get the vacuum out!” 

    The funny thing is, they had to find tools to pry them off, almost as if they too, were reluctant to say goodbye. And if those little stones could talk, I’d like to think they would whisper back all those prayers my Mom said for me as we held hands before the fireplace, when going to school was so, so hard for me. 

    I know walls, (and stones) can’t talk, but I do think they remember.