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Coming Home

“Those who live in the shadow of the most high will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.’ Psalm 91:1-2

It’s been so long since I’ve been here that I feel as if I have crept into the back door of my childhood home, letting myself in with the spare key. I can almost hear the creak of the screen door. I actually did do a recording of that squeak once, not wanting to forget what it sounded like. I drive by there from time to time to check on my brother’s rental that was put in the trust when he died, since its about 3 doors down.

The explanation for why I haven’t been here. I guess it’s just that the words haven’t come, not for lack of things happening in and outside of my life but for lack of thinking that any of it matters to anyone else. I tell myself it’s all part of the journey of writing. I hear people talk about it, the silence. I guess there is a place for it, otherwise why the 400 years of silence between Isaiah and the New Testament?

I recently started a Bible Study that I’m really enjoying. My childhood friend invited me and it’s held at a small Baptist Church that reminds me of church the way it used to be. We gather together in the sanctuary with the leader ( a little 4’11” dynamo) with a sparkle in her eyes and her spirit and a humble heart. We sing a hymn (from an actual hymnal) then she prays for us and we are released into our small groups and work through our study with a leader. We then meet back in the main hall where Pam goes through all our questions with a final lecture. I find myself looking forward to each lesson. I feel it bubbling through me like living water.

Getting back to the theme of home, where I think this is all going. Anytime we delve into Scripture, it’s a bit like coming home all over again. That is, if we put a bit of work into it. And this actual home we moved into, oh my friends, we are enjoying it so much. Eight years of living in a very small space does a number on you. For those who forgot or didn’t know, when we moved back here, we lived on my aunt’s property on the Mokelumne River. (Click on link to see) It fed my nature loving soul and it was a beautiful setting for sure. That part of it I miss but it was so restrictive in many ways. (And tiny) Constant worry over maintenance of an older RV and 50-year-old trees falling among other things and we were done.

So, we are home. This is the final resting place this side of Heaven unless there is an earthly purgatory in the form of a care home (God forbid). Not being able to care for yourself is a real downside of getting older. As my aunt says (she’s 92 now) “It’s not for sissies.”

It’s kind of weird how God and life work if you pay attention. About 40 years ago I came to this very same mobile home park. I went out on a spiritual limb and said yes to God (it was actually my aunt and uncle) but the much bigger yes is the one I said to God when he asked me to sing with their small group. ( A solo with canned background music) To this day I’m not sure why I said yes. Singing a solo was about as far from my personality as it gets. But He came through for me then and He has never left my side. All these years later, here I am and here He is.

So thank you for anyone here still reading and caring. The kittens we got from the Balam Foundation in Mexico are thriving. Atticus has attached himself to me and Scout has made Elaine his mama. Of course, we love them both equally. Needless to say, there will be no Christmas trees inside this year. We got some decorations up and I found Santa on the ground this morning with a few small parts missing. So far that is the only casualty. And for the first time in 9 years, we are cooking a turkey for Thanksgiving. Life is good friends. Most importantly God is good.

If you are still here, thank you for slogging along with me. I hope you and yours have a very Blessed Thanksgiving this year from my humble Prayer Closet……Peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Lori

New Every Morning

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning. Lamentations 3:22

”It’s been a too long time, with no peace of mind and I’m waiting for the times to get better…….” Songwriter: Allen Reynolds

I was meditating on the Lamentations verse this morning and once again filled with thanksgiving that we have this living hope we can stand on. It’s a promise God offers us every single day. What a wonder, in this troubled world we live in. Where are the ready smiles on the street? It seems to me that people are burdened. Then, while watching the Olympics last night there was the commercial with that old Crystal Gayle song. Elaine said, “I Do Not Like that commercial, it’s so sad.” Yes it is, but it seems like an honest depiction of a lot of people’s lives right now. Nothing is getting cheaper, crime is everywhere. We have to really look to find the good. We open our phones in the morning and are assaulted with an endless barrage of whatever the media thinks we need to know.

When I get weary of it all, I usually go to YouTube funny animal videos to cleanse my mental palette.

This morning I prayed for the first time in the new shop. It was a short session but it was a breath of fresh air. I haven’t had a place of prayer in years. I know, we can pray anywhere and I do. Arrow prayers all day. But having a quiet place to go to without interruption is different. My prayer was one of gratitude that even though the world seems to be in chaos all around us. God’s mercies are new every morning. What a gift. I pray that it’s a reality in all our lives.

We thought we would never live here. In this park, I mean. We had another “senior” park all picked out but it just didn’t gel. And we got tired of waiting. When we moved in, our neighbor had quite a few negative things to say about the park and management in general. We thought at the time that he was being nit picky and ridiculous. Now he is gone (the park bought him out). By no means am I bragging when I say we have made this place gorgeous. And management has taken issue with some of our positive changes, while other resident’s places are falling down around them. Mind you, neither one of us has problems with rules, in fact that is part of why we moved here. But when the rules don’t apply equally across the board it doesn’t sit well.

But………we love our home, and we have no intentions of moving. Not to say it hasn’t been a bit discouraging. Oh well, we are living in a strange and broken world. So much is upside down. This is no surprise. The fact is, God knows it too. From the dawn of creation He knew everything that would happen. But He counted the cost and figured it was worth it. He saw that everything he made was good. Perfect in every way. But it was also no surprise to Him when we went after the one thing He told us not to. The lie just sounded so good.

One time long ago, Pilate asked Jesus, “What is truth?” Pilate didn’t even know truth when He was looking right at him. Do we? Anyway, the good news is still the good news. We can have that happy ending since Jesus didn’t back down from restoring all things, and us as well. The redemption that is restoring all things is alive. Because of Jesus, we can wake with hope every single day.

I remember that old hymn we used to sing long ago. “Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe, sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow.” We never should have stopped singing those songs.

Until next time, be blessed and keep looking up.

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

What we leave behind…..

I will bless the Lord who guides me; even at night my heart instructs me. I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me. No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice. My body rests in safety. For you will not leave my soul among the dead or allow your holy one to rot in the grave. You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever. Psalm 16:7-11

I found this note in Mom’s Bible the other day. I didn’t remember asking her to read it, but it gave me comfort to see it now that she is gone. It made me think of the title of this post today. Another thought struck me close behind that and it was, “Did I love enough?” When we end this life, it won’t matter:

If we bought enough…..

If we did enough…..

If we worried enough….

If we learned enough….

If we earned enough….

I just started a book called “From the Kitchen of Half-Truth” In it is the story of a mother who loved her daughter very, very much. She wove these fantastical stories that her daughter loved very much when she was little but one day at eight years of age, she shared some of them with her school friends and she was laughed at and labeled a liar and her mother, whom she loved was labeled a fruitcake thereafter. She came home and decided to put her past and all the stories her mother had told her far behind and grew into a scientifical person who only believed what she could prove. Years later her mom was dying of cancer, and she came home to care for her. Her Mom still clung to the old stories and the daughter was disgusted that she refused to face reality.

The part that made me cry was when the daughter finally remembered all the many ways her mom had loved her, made her feel safe throughout the years. How that was so much more important than anything else. I thought of my own mom and how she had done that for me. How many battles she fought for me, how many times she prayed with tears through the hard times of my adolescence and well into adulthood. I hope that I loved her enough. (I probably didn’t)

God calls us to love until it hurts just like He did.

I worry about who is right and who is wrong too much of the time. I need to just love and not worry about who is worthy. I am glad God that deemed us if not worthy, but worth it. The truth is, I don’t love enough. My best friend in the world just reminded me that I have never got up early and surprised her with her favorite beverage in the world, a Dutch Brothers coffee. I insisted that I had. I remember the day I did it, in fact. My conscience seared as I sit here, remembering all the many times she has done just that for me.

Like I always say, while there is breath, there is hope, and a chance to do better.

I will love better. And now, if you excuse me, I’m going to Dutch Bros. Have a blessed day and surround those in your circle with love.

In Jesus love, Lori

Mission Impossible

This is a very short story with the happiest possible ending for all mankind. It’s actually a story that began long ago and is still being lived, breathed and told. It’s a living story and we all have a part to play. 

All eternity holds its breath as each individual living on earth makes the choice to embrace the impossible. Our breaths are all numbered by Him who breathed life into us at the very beginning. Our beginning. 

The ending is up to us. Do we embrace what the Angel told Mary? That she being a virgin would conceive a Son that would bear the sin of us all. You see, we all fall short. Every single one of us. 

But God worked a miracle. And that miracle is you. If you are here, living, breathing on this earth it’s because God wanted you here. And now it’s Christmas once again. Christ came and continues to come. Continues to beckon us to joy. 

It’s Christmas every single day until we breathe our last. I am acquainted with death, in fact I’m far too familiar with it. But I’m also very acquainted with life, and that’s the most important part. 

Death is a mystery. No one gets out alive. But the Good News is still Good News indeed. The angel that came to the Shepherds on that cold hillside long ago is still giving us “Good Tidings of Great Joy,” and I love that the angel said which shall be to “all” people not some people. 

For as many as received Him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name. John 1:12 

This means you. Life is hard. Sometimes life is just about impossible. We get lost. We fail. We get back up again and again. And like I always say: 

Where there’s breath, there’s hope. 

To embrace the impossible, we have to embrace the impossible God. He loves you friends. He wants to meet you exactly where you are this Christmas morning. Thats my message of love today. 

Merry Christmas from my humble Prayer Closet, blessings and peace, Lori. 

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

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.” 

There really is Good News!

It’s been a long stretch of COVID and waiting and even though I didn’t feel bad I didn’t want to give it to anyone else. Then I gave it to Elaine, which made me feel terrible, and she had it longer, so we were both in the tube of seclusion. 

We did get to enjoy a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day corned beef dinner on the 17th. And a rousing game of Farkle that night! (Try not to be jealous.) We count all the small joys here. And we really do find things to laugh about. Lately we have had to look harder. 

Thankfully though, we have come out the other side. The elusive sun has broken through every now and again which has been the only thing keeping us just out of one after another “come-apart” moments (as they say in the South). A term I have only recently learned and now have happily adopted. It has truly been a winter like no other I’ve ever experienced here in California. 

The good news: the reservoirs are filling up and it does the heart good to see a physical manifestation of all that rain (and flooding). And another good thing yesterday, I was able to go prom dress shopping with my niece and her mom and after about 10 dresses, we found “The One.” 

And speaking of world news lately. Everywhere you look it seems the whole world is having a “Come Apart,” when what we really need is a “Come to Jesus.” As Christians we know that God has everything firmly in His grip, all evidence to the contrary when we look at the world and the news. It’s disheartening when we see our own communities affected by it all.

Our faith though, on a practical level rewards us, because there are moments when in the midst of slogging through life, we hear a song, or see something magnificent in nature and we know, that we know, that we know. The Good News that Jesus brought is still here. Still just as real.

It happened today. I heard a song on the radio and I felt Easter like a sunburst in my heart. You know that feeling when you want to shout it out and share it with the world? Like when you have that awesome church service you want to share so bad, and you invite a friend, and they actually say yes. Or when you see grownup people being baptized.

He hears you friend. Don’t despair, He’s got this. Just pray a small prayer like Anne Lamott talked about in her book, “Help, thanks, wow.” It’s all you need. He will hear you. 

I hope this is okay sharing these lyrics because this is the chorus of one of the songs I heard by “We Are Messengers” 

It’s in the empty tomb

It’s on the rugged cross

Your death defying love

Is written in Your scars

You’ll never quit on me

You’ll always hold my heart

‘Cause that’s the kind of God You are……

Yes, indeed. This Lent, we celebrate again that the Father gave the most precious thing He had to redeem us. To draw us close to Himself. And Jesus said, “Let’s do this.”