“Read me a story….”

When I was very small, I remember begging my Dad to read me just one more story. He was good at making up stories. I especially remember one about a little black cat that was lost and a kind of spooky story about a green light. Makes me want to cry now because I can still hear his voice as he shared it. These were simple times before we knew any better that life had its share of sorrows as well as joys, and before we worried about the future. My Dad and Mom tried very hard to sew up a tight little circle of family. It was a place of security and we all drifted there in that safety net of our childhood years.

The 70’s, as I look back now were an incredibly innocent time. I remember on two occasions in our High School Assembly the song “Fairest Lord Jesus” was sung by two of my classmates, Patty Schaal and Connie Guntert. I don’t remember anyone jeering, or making noise, we just listened. Back then there was still a moral compass of some sort. Not all of the kids were church kids, but they had enough respect to listen, and applaud after. It was California, and we were in the height of the Jesus Revolution. Apparently enough of Jesus blew inland since our town was about two hours north of where that all started.

This morning I actually opened my actual Bible instead of the one on my phone App. I was surprised by the emotion that washed over me. I held it to my chest as I thought about all the times those living pages brought such comfort. Those words, those stories. As I closed my eyes, I heard the rustling of pages on a warm summer night in church. I heard my grandma’s rattling of Reeds candy cellophane and the embarrassed shushing my one of my aunt’s further down the pew. When you open a book, it comes alive. And we are all the embodiment of who went before us.

Sometimes I just sit quietly and think gratefully about those simpler times that wash over me like baptismal grace. I wonder where they went, and if I can have the fortitude to live them out and make them come alive again. Because you can tell a story, but it takes real courage to live a story in our actions, our thoughts, our lives.

I don’t think I will be using my phone App anymore, and I don’t know why I even started except laziness. I need to see the places I highlighted, and pages my Dad marked in his Book of Common Prayer. And remember how, when I moved from home the first time, how Mom cradled my old copy of The Way bible that I got back in those seemingly innocent times, tears streaming down her face. I didn’t know how much it meant to her back then. I do now Mom, I do now.

Our stories are who we are, and they are so important. Margaret Atwood says it like this, “In the end, we’ll all become stories.” And I found another quote that describes me perfectly, since I check out libraries in each town I travel through, “The only thing you absolutely have to know is the location of the library.” Albert Einstein

I asked God to read me a story and He said, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with me (God) and the Word was me (God). John 1:1

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.” 

Hang Onto the Good

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 107:1

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

Joy does not simply happen to us, we have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. Henry Nouwen

I had to dig myself out of a hole on Monday. I simply wasn’t ready to get up and do it all again. The way I described it to E. was a slow panic attack. I felt paralyzed by life. So, I just called in sick and rode it out. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen every now and then. The endless gray we’ve been having hasn’t helped. Add that to the fact of living in an even smaller space than usual, due to the awning on the slide-out being worn. It has to be fixed and the RV place will charge an arm and a leg for something that takes about 30 minutes.

We may try to do this ourselves. It can be done.

This is the valuable thing I have learned from depression. It is temporary. And there is no shame in medication if it’s needed. Some people of faith think that if you pray enough, or praise enough, or read the Bible enough, you won’t be depressed. One of my former Pastors got very exasperated at that. There is no shame in medication. I have taken Zoloft twice in my life and it has been just what I needed at the time.

That being said, each of us is different, and sometimes we have to find our own way out. We can help each other do this. Many things help me. Sometimes just a simple walk can do wonders. Getting out, seeing people, going to your favorite diner. Sometimes I use writing to write myself out of a hole. Going to the library for me is a simple but great outlet. Being around books has always leveled out my mind. When that fails, I know I’m in trouble.

The pictures above are some of my recent finds. One of them was a pet memorial bench. Later I went back left some flowers. And the drawing is a portrait of me by one of my “girls” at school. She was giggling as she drew it! And on a recent drive looking for the newest free library we found one built like a robot. When you open it, the lights flash. An engineer must live there.

And last week we went to the movie, Jesus Revolution. I highly recommend it. It is not shmaltzy or cheesy the way so many “faith” films can be. It’s a true story from an incredible time in history which I partly lived through growing up in the 70’s. It will make you laugh, cry, and cheer. People in the audience broke into spontaneous applause at the end. How often does that happen anymore?

Another thing that tremendously helps my mood is limited exposure to the news.

“The Good News” that Jesus brought us is still every bit as real as when he walked the earth! Sometimes I need to remind myself of the big thing that makes everything else worth it.

Peace and greetings from my little corner. Lori

Welcome February!

……..the way is cleared, and we can go on……(a snatch from my journal)

And it’s February!!!! That means my daffodils will make an appearance soon. The ones I take a picture of every year are popping up and I can see little bits of yellow poking through the magnificent green. Also, a dear friend has passed, and I still can’t believe she is gone. None of us can. She was ninety-three and she was done with life, but we were not done with her. I know this life is just a vapor of time, a slice of eternity, but Annie, you were just so darn alive. Today would be the day you would have driven here in your Prius to visit my aunt. Your absence is felt keenly.

We miss you so……

Here is a picture of her (on the right) along with my aunt and another friend, all of them 90 or older.

I’ve been reading the book of Job in the Message version. I have always loved that particular book, but the Message expresses it in such a clear and simple way.

God answering Job:

“Why do you confuse the issue? Why do you talk without knowing what you’re talking about? Pull yourself together Job! Up on your feet, stand tall! I have some questions for you, and I want some straight answers. Where were you when I created the earth? Tell me, since you know so much! Who decided on its size? Certainly, you’ll know that. Who came up with the blueprints and measurements? How was its foundation poured, and who set the cornerstone, while the morning stars sang in chorus and all the angels shouted praise?

At first it seems like God is very hard on Job but in the end, God sides with Job and not his friends. So much so that God addresses Eliphaz (bad friend) in exasperation. He turns to him and says:

“I’ve had it with you and your two friends. I’m fed up! You haven’t been honest either with me or about me–not the way my friend Job has. So, here’s what you must do. Take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my friend Job. Sacrifice a burnt offering on your own behalf. My friend Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer.”

Thank you, Jesus, that we are done with THAT messy business.

Death swallowed up by triumphant Life! (Jesus) Who got the last word, oh Death? Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now? 1 Corinthians 15:55

The World Can Swallow You

That is if you let it. The world can swallow you whole. It gets to be too much sometimes. And at times there are just no words. They simply will not come. Dry as a desert inside, that’s what it feels like. The start of this year was one for the books. California made the news and not for the bizarre reasons it usually does. This state can be downright embarrassing sometimes for many political and other ridiculous reasons. Or maybe you love all those reasons.

This time it was a massive storm. Series of storms, rather. The rain just wouldn’t stop. Coming from the Pacific Ocean there were about 9 storms one right after the other, producing what is called a Bomb Cyclone. I had never heard of that term, but we are all too familiar with it now. Whole communities were flooded, and freeways were shut down. In this town alone, we had around 100 plus very large and very old trees fall causing massive damage and in some cases loss of homes and lives. When the sun finally came out it was like a miracle. We are safely on the other side now, but the fallout continues in the aftermath.

The neighbor lost a huge Cottonwood, and my aunt had a tree guy come and eliminate a possible catastrophe. This was a 50–60-year-old tree that we have watched bend and sway from our vantage point in the Motorhome with no small sense of dread and panic. Its two massive neighbors fell over the last historic storm in 2017. My brother’s house also flooded and so did a good friend of mine’s.

In other news, I got a call from the Dr. right before Christmas that the spot I had removed came back as Malignant Melanoma. I was in the aisle of Walmart when I got the call and my world just shifted like it does when you get unexpected news like that. I have since had the diseased part removed (I hope enough) I get stitches out Tuesday. We also got a call from Elaine’s brother that two of his friends had passed away. One of them in these recent storms. He wandered away from his cabin and they found his body the next day, frozen.

My Aunt also had a terrible fall on Christmas morning that she is still recovering from. Nothing broken, miraculously so, since she is 90 now. And my current student at school (I am subbing for another aid that is absent) has had two seizures since coming back from Christmas break. It’s very upsetting to watch but I am thankful for our school nurses who are wonderful and were there in minutes. She usually recovers pretty fast but it’s harrowing. I can’t imagine what her parents go through.

All this to say, that this world can be a very hard place sometimes. And it can swallow you whole if you don’t have something to anchor your soul. But this is the good part.

Everything can change in an instant and we can be surprised by joy and wonder even though our circumstances themselves haven’t changed much.

Take this morning, for instance. I had nothing, no words at all. But as I read my Scripture in the quiet of dawn, a candle lit in the middle of my heart. It felt like JOY. And also, we got a new laptop, and I can finally have the luxury of sitting at the table posting this blog instead of having to go out to the garage where the main computer is. Amazing what you can get used to if you have to. I almost can’t believe it’s the eighth year we’ve been living in this box. It’s been hard and we are ready to be done with it. Few people get how hard it is. They think we have been on some kind of vacation. Well, I would suggest that they try using the laundromat every week, along with dumping the “shitter” and worry about propane and a million other things.

But I digress……Back to JOY. It’s what I’m feeling right now, and I am so very thankful for the Lord and His words that are living and sharper than anything and able to beat back any darkness this world and Satan can throw at us. I wonder things. Being in a state of wonder is not a bad thing. It’s how we learn. Why do we capitalize Satan, anyway? I personally don’t think he should get that “billing.”

To change the subject, is anyone watching the Chosen? It seems to be a global phenomenon and I’m glad for it. It seems to be turning people’s hearts and thoughts to the REAL Jesus and that’s very good.

Finally, if you, dear reader, have stuck with me this far, I thank you! There is still so much beauty and goodness in the world, and I sincerely hope this day finds you seeking the miraculous in each moment.

The Lord bless you and keep you…….Lori

*****I call the bird in the picture “Chocolate.” He visits me on the fence.

First Sunday of Advent

Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has dawned upon you. For behold, darkness covers the land; deep gloom enshrouds the people’s. But over you the Lord will rise, and his glory will appear upon you. 

Nations will stream to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawning. Your gates will always be open; by day or night they will never be shut. They will call you, The City of the Lord, The Zion of the Holy One of Israel. Violence will no more be heard in your land, ruin or destruction within your borders.  

You will call your walls Salvation, and all your portals, Praise. The sun will no more be your light by day; by night you will not need the brightness of the moon. 

Already, it’s the first Sunday of Advent. Another year drawing to a close. We had a restful Thanksgiving here camping on the California Delta. Today we will pack up and go home, back to the familiar routine, which can be comforting in its own way.

As I opened Dad’s prayer book this morning, a picture of the two of them came fluttering out. A picture of them both in front of a tent on one of their many camping trips. They are both beaming, happy. That’s how I think of them now, their souls basking in Heavenly light. 

The passing of time is keenly felt to all of us here below, but we are grateful for these times when we can pause briefly from our labor. From this time forth, let the crowds go crazy looking for the perfect gift spending money they may or may not have. 

I will seek God’s rest as much as I can.

Shalom

When Church Happens

He canceled the record of the charges against us and took it away by nailing it to the cross. Colossians 2:14

I went to church but I didn’t go all the way in. To be honest, I just didn’t feel like hearing another sermon. I have heard it all before. I have sat and filled in the blanks dutifully, like one more task I have to check off. Done. On to the next thing.

I miss the interaction. I miss how at my old church they would ask if anyone had a burden, a need. And then others standing by would surround them, touch them, hands like gentle doves lighting on shoulders, backs…….. and the Pastor would pray. Sometimes they would cry and we would want to cry too. There is something powerful about the laying on of hands…..passing the Spirit from one to another.

It unifies us all.

Somehow I can’t escape the feeling that we are leaving with our burdens intact. There might be a burning need right next to me, and I would never know it. An inner cry for help like a dial tone unanswered.

We leave as the islands we are. Untouched. Still carrying the heavy load.

I wonder and not for the first time if the Spirit is not quenched with all our organization. Just one Sunday I wish the Pastor would stop and say, “Now everyone turn to your neighbor, not the one you came with, the one you don’t know, and pray for each other for 15 minutes.”

And I miss the altar call. Some say it’s just not needed anymore. It makes people feel embarrassed, singled out. But I disagree. I feel like it’s what draws us all in, and holds us together. Makes us remember when we were the one propelled out of our seat, and how that aisle looked impossibly long.

And when it was just you and the Lord, and no one else. And somehow, you know that this one thing, this one moment will change the course of your eternal destiny. What in the world matters more than that? I believe churches are robbing their congregations when they take this Holy moment away.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the church more than ever. When I miss it, something is wrong. But I also think that church happens more often than not after we leave the building.

As we sat yesterday with old friends, listening to all they have been through since we had last seen them I felt church happen with the exchange of tears. When she said she was finally getting help in dealing with the death of their little boy. That little boy who was their whole world and in some ways still is.

I can see how that little boy is so alive to them still. And how if he knew what a shadow his death made on their marriage, how sad he would be. I wish I would have told her that if he knew his Mommy was finally getting help, that he would smile from Heaven.

We talked of how it will never go away, he will never go away. But you learn to make some kind of peace with it. And go on for others who still need you.

Church happens when love happens, and not just on Sunday. But over coffee, in between classes, in parking lots, in school buses, everywhere God is.

It happens when we remember the Cross and what was done on it, for us. And that every single thing we bear in this life, He already dealt with.

It was nailed to the cross when He was.

In light of that, we stand at the edge of eternity every day. And with each day, no matter what we have to handle, our gratitude can’t help but grow.

We just can’t stop counting the gifts. Join me today? And Ann at Holy Experience here.